AUTHOR'S PREFACE

    In which it
        is proved that,
           notwithstanding their names'
              ending in OS and IS,
         the heroes
               of the story which
             we are about
                  to have the honor
                      to relate to our readers
                    have nothing mythological about them.

    A short time ago,
           while making
            researches in the Royal Library
                   for my History
                       of Louis XIV,
         I stumbled
               by chance
                   upon the Memoirs
                       of M. D'Artagnan,
           printed
         --as were
               most of the works of
             that period,
               in which authors
                could not tell the truth
                 without the risk
                       of a residence,
             more or less long,
               in the Bastille--
           at Amsterdam,
         by Pierre Rouge.

    The title attracted me;
        I took them home
               with me,
           with the permission
               of the guardian,
         and devoured them.

    It is
           not my intention here
          to enter
               into an analysis
                   of this curious work;
        and I
            shall satisfy myself with
                  referring such
                       of my readers as
                  appreciate the pictures
                       of the period
                     to its pages.

    They will therein find portraits
          penciled by the hand
               of a master;
        and although these squibs
            may be,
           for the most part,
         traced upon the doors
               of barracks
             and the walls of cabarets,
           they will not
              find the likenesses
                   of Louis XIII,
         Anne of Austria,
           Richelieu,
         Mazarin,
           and the courtiers
               of the period,
         less faithful
               than in the history
                   of M. Anquetil.

    But,
           it is well known,
         what strikes the capricious mind
               of the poet
            is not always
             what affects
                   the mass of readers.

    Now,
           while admiring,
         as others doubtless will admire,
           the details
             we have to relate,
         our main preoccupation
              concerned a matter
             to which no one
               before ourselves
                had given a thought.

    D'Artagnan relates
         that on his first visit
               to M. de Treville,
           captain of the king's Musketeers,
         he met
               in the antechamber
                   three young men,
           serving in the illustrious corps
               into which
             he was
                 soliciting the honor of
                being received,
         bearing the names of Athos,
           Porthos,
         and Aramis.

    We must confess
           these three strange names
         struck us;
        and it immediately
            occurred to us
             that they were
               but pseudonyms,
           under which D'Artagnan had disguised
             names perhaps illustrious,
         or else
             that the bearers
                   of these borrowed names
                had themselves
                      chosen them
                           on the day
                         in which,
           from caprice,
         discontent,
           or want of fortune,
         they had donned
               the simple Musketeer's uniform.

    From the moment
         we had no rest
           till we
            could find some trace
                   in contemporary works of these
                     extraordinary
                        names
              which had so strongly
                  awakened our curiosity.

    The catalogue alone
           of the books
         we read with this object
            would fill a whole chapter,
           which,
         although it
            might be very instructive,
           would certainly afford our readers
             but little amusement.

    It will suffice,
           then,
         to tell them
             that at
                   the moment at which,
           discouraged by so
               many fruitless investigations,
         we were about
              to abandon our search,
           we at length found,
         guided by the
            counsels of
                   our illustrious friend Paulin Paris,
           a manuscript in folio,
         endorsed 4772 or 4773,
           we do not recollect which,
         having for title,
           "Memoirs of
               the Comte de la Fere,
             Touching Some Events Which Passed
                   in France Toward the End
                       of the Reign
                     of King Louis XIII
                       and the
                         Commencement
                            of the Reign
                               of King Louis XIV."

    It may be easily imagined
         how great
            was our joy when,
           in turning over this manuscript,
         our last hope,
           we found
               at the
                   twentieth page the name
                 of Athos,
         at the twenty-seventh the name
               of Porthos,
           and at
               the thirty-first
             the name of Aramis.