We know nothing of M. Emile de Girardin, except that, in a duel, he shot the best man in France, Armand Carrel; and in Girardin’s favour it must be said, that he had no other alternative; but was right in provoking the duel, seeing that the whole Republican party had vowed his destruction, and that he fought and killed their champion, as it were. We know nothing of M. Girardin’s private character; but, as far as we can judge from the French public prints, he seems to be the most speculative of speculators, and, of course, a fair butt for the malice of the caricaturists. His one great crime, in the eyes of the French Republicans and Republican newspaper proprietors, was, that Girardin set up a journal, as he called it, ‘franchement monarchique,’--a journal in the pay of the monarchy, that is,--and a journal that cost only forty francs by the year. The _National_ costs twice as much; the _Charivari_ itself costs half as much again; and though all newspapers, of all parties, concurred in ‘snubbing’ poor M. Girardin and his journal, the Republican prints were by far the most bitter against him, thundering daily accusations and personalities; whether the abuse was well or ill founded, we know not. Hence arose the duel with Carrel; after the termination of which, Girardin put by his pistol, and vowed, very properly, to assist in the shedding of no more blood. Girardin had been the originator of numerous other speculations besides the journal: the capital of these, like that of the journal, was raised by shares, and the shareholders, by some fatality, have found themselves woefully in the lurch; while Girardin carries on the war gaily, is, or was, a _member of_ the Chamber of Deputies, has money, goes to Court, and possesses a certain kind of reputation. He invented, we believe, the ‘Institution Agronome de Coetbo,’[6] the ‘Physionotype,’ the ‘Journal des Connaissances Utiles,’ the ‘Panthéon Littéraire,’ and the system of ‘Primes’--premiums, that is--to be given, by lottery, to certain subscribers in these institutions. Could Robert Macaire see such things going on, and have no hand in them? Accordingly Messrs. Macaire and Bertrand are made the heroes of many speculations of the kind. In almost the first print of our collection, Robert discourses to Bertrand of his projects. ‘Bertrand,’ says the disinterested admirer of talent and enterprise, ‘j’adore l’industrie. Si tu veux, nous créons une banque, mais là, une vraie banque: capital, cent millions de millions, cent milliards de milliards d’actions. Nous enfonçons la banque de France, les banquiers, les banquistes; nous enfonçons tout le monde.’ ‘Oui,’ says Bertrand, very calm and stupid, ‘mais les gendarmes?’ ‘Que tu es bête, Bertrand: est-ce qu’on arrête un millionnaire?’ Such is the key to M. Macaire’s philosophy; and a wise creed too, as times go.