bane of French literature, which Mérimée, as a rule, has so successfully eluded or vanquished. Her hapless lover is much more of an individual, and it is more her office, baneful or not, to bring out his individuality than to display her own. It may even seem to some that the great chagrin of Mérimée's life—his jilting by an unlawful love of many years' standing—has reflected itself too closely for art in his delineation of Carmen's character. It is quite naturally possible that Carmen, after years of faithful infidelity and false truth to José, should suddenly lose all fancy for him; but it is not so possible artistically or rather (for perhaps everything is possible artistically) it is not quite made probable in the story. Yet even here the slip (if slip it be) is redeemed by the girl's blend of fatalism] and recklessness, her refusal even to deprecate the punishment which she has provoked.
If, however, the character-painting on one side be a little "out," it is flawless on the other; and the action, the description, and the rest throughout are incomparable. For a good deal of the "local colour" which he laughed at, loved and used so victoriously, Mérimée is no doubt indebted to Borrow, but he knew Spain intimately enough to make the borrowing (this pun is entirely unintentional) his own, and the
