ith the
memory of his crime. In the 'Wreckers' Stevenson and his young
collaborator attempted that "form of police novel or mystery-story which
consisted in beginning your yarn anywhere but at the beginning, and
finishing it anywhere but at the end." They were attracted by its
"peculiar interest when done, and the peculiar difficulties that attend
its execution." They were "repelled by that appearance of insincerity
and shallowness of tone which seems its inevitable drawback," because
"the mind of the reader always bent to pick up clews receives no
impression of reality or life, rather of an airless, elaborate
mechanism; and the book remains enthralling, but insignificant, like a
game of chess, not a work of human art." They hoped to find a new way of
handling the old tale of mystery, so that they might get the profit
without paying the price. But already in his criticism of 'Barnaby
Rudge' had Poe showed why disappointment was unavoidable, because the
more artfully the dark intimations of horror are held out, the more
certain it is that the anticipation must surpass the reality. No matter
how terrific the circumstances may be which shall appear to have
occasioned the mystery, "still they will not be able to satisfy the mind
of the reader. He will surely be disappointed."

Even Balzac, with all his mastery of the novelist's art, lost more than
he gained when he strove to arouse the interest of his readers by an
appeal to their curiosity. His mystery-mongering is sometimes perilously
close to blatant sensationalism and overt charlatanry; and he seems to
be seeking the bald effect for its own sake. In the 'Chouans,' and again
in the 'Tenebreuse Affaire,' he has complicated plots and counterplots
entangled almost to confusion, but the reader "receives no impression of
reality or life" even if these novels cannot be dismist as empty
examples of "airless, elaborate mechanism."

The members of the secret police appearing in these stories have all a
vague likeness to Vidocq, whose alleged memoirs were published in 1828,
a few years before the author of the 'Human Comedy' began to deal with
the scheming of the underworld. Balzac's spies and his detectives are
not convincing, despite his utmost effort; and we do not believe in
their preternatural acuteness. Even in the conduct of their intrigues
we are lost in a murky mistiness. Balzac is at his best when he is
arousing the emotions of recognition; and he is at his worst when h