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Updated: May 18, 2025
He looked rather un-English, rather cunning, cruel and unpleasant quite different somehow, from his ordinary cheery, bright English self. "Old" Brigadier General Miltiades Murger was unique among British Generals in that he sometimes resorted to alcoholic stimulants beyond reasonable necessity and had a roving and a lifting eye for a pretty woman.
On the arrival of General Miltiades Murger he sat at his feet as soon as, and whenever, possible; only to discover that he was not only uninterested in, but obviously contemptuous of, volunteers and volunteering.
A more comprehensive study would not have been out of place in his volume. To those who may be interested in writers like Murger, Feydeau, Houssaye, and Brifaut, the book is full of interesting matter. To the general reader it may be of value as characterizing with fidelity some of the tendencies of French thought.
The Mimi of Murger often passed before him, but less melancholy than the creation of the poet, and the ex-seminarist found his Sunday evening idylls in the woods surrounding Paris.
In ten minutes the permanent staff had largely re-sorted it and, to a great extent, re-formed the original companies. Captain José offered his subaltern, Lieutenant Bylegharicontractor, a hundred rupees to change places with him. Offer refused, with genuine and deep regret, but firmly. "Shall we have another try, Colonel," inquired General Murger silkily.
Then he published a novel in "Le Moniteur," after which he was decorated. Nothing was now heard from or of him for a long time. Not a line by Henry Murger appeared anywhere. I never heard that any piece by him was received, or even refused, by a single one of the eighteen theatres in Paris. At last I met him one day before the Variétés Theatre.
It is remarkable that the excellence of the first group has been maintained by a new generation, Murger, About, Feuillet, Flaubert, Erckmann-Chatrian, Droz, Daudet, Cherbulliez, Gaboriau, Dumas fils, and others. During this period the romance-writing of France has taken two different directions.
The PETIT CENACLE was dead and buried; Murger and his crew of sponging vagabonds were all at rest from their expedients; the tradition of their real life was nearly lost; and the petrified legend of the VIE DE BOHEME had become a sort of gospel, and still gave the cue to zealous imitators.
He interested one or two fine ladies greatly, and they were extremely gracious to him. Artists that is, young and unknown artists in the Quartier are more or less pleasant to read about in the pages of Mürger and others, but they are too often beggarly and quite impossible persons in real life.
Yet that can hardly be the reason, for even in Murger or Paul de Kock, at their worst, the hero is still a gentleman, and even when he borrows a friend's coat, it is to go to a great house and among people of rank.
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