Life and Writings Of

Home , La Dame de Monsoreau, La guerre des femmes

T H E LI F E A N D WRI T I N G S OF

A LE X A N D RE DUM AS

T H E

LI FE A N D W R IT I N G S

A LE XA N D RE DUM A S

( 1 802 4 870)

RR H A RRY A . S PU

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WITH MKN‘ Y ILLUSTRATION S

N E W Y ORK RE DE CK A STOK E S COM P NY F RI . , A

P UBLISH E R S

T E O COM E O F M A N Y YE A RS OF LOV I N G

I S R E SPE CT F U LLY D E DICATE D

V GRA T E FU L R EC OGN IT ION O F H

’ " SY M PA I H Y A N D H E LP.

P R E F A C E

T H E centenary of the birth of Alexandre D umas ‘ ere ﬁ occurred in J uly of this year. As no satis factory “ Life of the great Frenchman exists in

English , this was thought an appropriate moment

for giving the public, with whom his romances are so ’ D u mas s p opular , an account of life , character, and

u writings , which sho ld be both interesting to the

r r o dinary reader , and trustwo thy as a book of

r reference . The autho has endeavoured to tell the general reader the man in the public library

D u w who mas was , hat he did , which books he did w w w write and hich he did not rite , and ﬁnally , hat

‘ c n reres his o f and the great critics have said of him .

t wo One or points may be dealt with here , by

way of anticipating obvious criticism . The ﬁrst relates to the omission from the following pages of

M a s M M . C the spiteful libels of de irecourt , de

s a nac . g , etc I t is almost impossible at this date for any one , particularly an Englishman , to take the circumstantial allegations of these gentlemen and It refute them in detail . is now over sixty years since they were made : they had their sou rce in y admitted enmity , and their medium was equall

vii viii PR E FACE

contemptible . Dumas ignored them his colleagues in the higher ranks of literature discredited them ; w his enemies accepted them illingly, without de M " M . manding proof. de irecourt was sentenced to imprisonment for publishing his statements ; but their improbability is still stronger proof of their ' “ W Du mas s falseness . hen collaborators denied “ ” “ M . the allegations made on their behalf, de M irecourt ” impudently accused them of having allowed Dumas to dictate their denials ; when he “ ' D a proved mas s illiteracy , by an anecdote in M M . which he cited aquet in support, that gentle man promptly gave the libeller the lie !

We make no apology for dwelling on this point , M for the charges of this . J acquot have been

u ér accepted almost universally as the truth . O ard ‘cites the gentleman with obvious complacency ; Larousse in his Dictionnaire quotes him con ’ stantl M r z y, and Fit gerald condemns the man s testimony almost as often as he makes use of it ’ ’ M r Henley s article in Cha mbers s Encyclopae dia is probably the only biographical account of Dumas

which is trustworthy . That in the ninth edition of

a M r z the Encyclop edia Britannica is by Fit gerald . “ Of M . u é rard S e Q , who in his uperch ries proves to his own satisfaction that with one or two i nsig niﬁcant exceptions Dumas never wrote anything at

all , it is sufﬁcient to point out that he considered PREFA CE that author as merely “ a clever arranger of the ” thoughts of others . When a ne w edition of the “ e ‘ M ez oses . Superch ries was i ssued , the ﬁ of

u érard ( 8 8 w Q , which stopped at 4 , ere not con tinu e d , and the editors formally expressed their regret that the great writer had received such treat ment from the critic . They further hinted that only a determination to use the material of the fi rst edition of the work i n its entirety prevented them M ’ u r rd s . from dealing with . O é a accusations W e have referred to M r Fitz gerald H is Life and Adventures of Alexander Dumas was written

’ shortly after the novelist s death , is now forgotten ,

u s and is probably out of print . This relieves from the necessity of saying more than that M r Lang “ " M r M in his Essays in Little , Brander atthews “

M r W . in his French Novelists , . H Pollock in

' t /z r N zne eenZ Centu M r . W in the y, A . B alkley “ ” Playhouse I mpressions , and others , have all con de mne d the book as being inaccurate and u nworthy of the subject and the writer . A great change has taken place in the literary estimation of Dumas d u ring the past thirty years ; and it is o ur aim to convey this desirable revolution in Opinion to the mind of the ordinary reader . C onsistent with the declaration made above , we have ignored the charges brought against Dumas with reference to his attitude toward Louis Philippe x PR E FACE

The ex-employee of the D uke of Orleans is accused of having alternately abused and fawned upon that

W e dignitary when he became king. p refer to take the responsibility of suppressing the allegations ’ respecting this episode in D u mas s career as utterly

at variance with his practice and his nature .

W e Another omission requires explanation . D have dealt with the plays of umas , so far as they I f . af ected his career, in Part ; we have touched on them in general terms in other portions of the book ; but have refrained from dealing with them

at all extensively . The general reader of the ’ English - speaking p ublic does not know D u mas s plays, and has had no opportunity of seeing them

or of reading them , therefore one cannot hope to interest him in them and at the risk of throwing the subject out of its proper proportion we have omitted to treat the m fully . To those who do

w ca n kno and appreciate him as a dramatist , we “ ' A r D r d . D a M . ecommend Le ame um s by H .

Cal mann- e Parigot , published by L vy . There is a general confusion in books of reference ’ concerni ng the year of D u mas s birth . As Gl ine l

w u sho s , by reprod cing the certiﬁcate of birth , the

rn 2 author wa s bo in 1 8 0 . The author has tried to make his book as accurate f as possible , but the task has been di ﬁcult , as no D impartial and complete biography of umas exists , PR E FA CE

even in French . H e will therefore be grateful to a n y critic , friendly or otherwise, who will point out any errors of fact in the text .

— N ol a M y thanks are due to M adame Dumas ’

/s M . D H au te rive ﬁ for her kind assistance ; to , her

- in - M r M r son law, for similar kindness ; to Lang, \V R M . M r . ossetti and Swinburne for courteous replies to inquiries ; to M r Robert Garnett for

M M Calmann - e valuable advice and help ; to . . L vy

M r M . D for information given ; to F . uncan for his photographs of illustrations in the British M useum M R Library ; and to . E . och , secretary of the

-C C e Villers otterets entenary F tes Committee .

C O N T E N T S

rA cz

PRE FACE

LIST or I LLUST RAl' l-ON S

PART I .

H IS LIF E A N D CH A RACT ER

H D E B IRT , M AI N HOO A N D A R I A S U sssas 1802

T H E REI GN or D' UM'A S I

W A N D E R IN GS. D E CLIN I: A ND D EATH

PART II.

H IS GEN IUS xiv CO NTE N TS

A PPE N D ICE S.

A H ISTORY AN D ICT I N A COM PA R I SON . F O :

’ B. CH RONOLOGY OF DU M A S S LI F E

’ C. TABULA R A N ALY SI S OF D UM A S S W R IT I N GS

D . LIST OF BOOK S CON SU LT E D

IN DEX

P A RT I

— BIRTH M AN H OOD A N D E A R LY SUCCE SSE S ( 1 802 -3O) T HE R E IGN

- - OF D UMA S I . 1 : A N E ND ( 830 48) W N DE R IN GS, D ECLI A DEATH

I 8 3é 0 —CH RA TER ( 4 7 ) A, C

F \ \ N II N - RO M B I RT H TO l I . OOD A D F A M E ( 1 80 2 3 0 )

I F D f , like efoe , we were about to of er ﬁction in the guise of biography , instead of biography in a more

u re or less romantic form , we sho ld be tempted to p face the story o f D u mas with o ne of those elaborate su b -titles in which the author of Robinson C ru s oe w w delighted . I t ould probably run some hat in

we w this fashion , if allo ed ourselves to prepare

w we one , hich of course do not

’ 7 0 l n t re -1 D 71 if e a d a dven u s of /c-ra na rc a ’ ’ nza s o t/ze PVorl a w/zo wa s bot/z a bl a ck a na f ,

' ’ a w/zzte ma n a R o a l zst a n d a R e u bl i ca n y p , ' ’ a n a r zstof z’ a t a no a sans-c u lott e ; w/zo tool e

a rt m t/z m’o 7f w ol zzt zo7zs a n d ma de t/M ' oe p , ’ a zf oz' ont rep u ta ti ons w/zo w rote more booles ’ ’ t/za n a n ot/ s nza n l i vi n or a ca a w/zo y g ,

“ " ' ( rot ted two zlf on to CV’ Z Sl OS one o w/z zc/z , f ’ ' ’ ma a o /z zs f ort u n e a na t/zo ot/zwf of w/z zk/z ’ ' ’ ’ n n ma a e zt m/l o e n mk/zea t/ze woz l a a nd wa s

' poor a l l lzzs l if e tog ot/zor w i t/z a n a ccon n t

o lz zs ex l oi ts a s dra ma ti st ronza na ’ r t ra v f p , ,

' a’ l l or ol i ti ci a n w zt on nn a l zst di l oma t /st , p , , j , p , ’ ’ ' ' ” la lzzs torza n oet ctr s ol a z rr l cctn w r z oo . , , , , p , 4 LI FE A N D W R I TI NG S OF

Before this Alexander entered the world he was about to conquer, much was already his own by inheritance. H e was born into the atmosphere of ﬁery light and ﬁerce heat which the Revolution

was had left behind it. H e destined to possess a good share of blue and of black blood , for his grand father was no other than the M arquis Antoine

D Paill ete rie Alexandre avy de la , a French noble - D man , self exiled to San omingo , and his grand

a - -Ce sse tte mother was negro woman , Louise

D - umas . I t was a romantically ill assorted match , full of interesting possibilities . The son of this marriage threw over parentage and aristocracy , enlisted in the French army as a private under ’ - his mother s name , and at thirty one years of age n had risen to the ra k of general . Times and cir cu mstance s were both fru itful and portentous for they were leading up to the birth of o u r hero .

1 0 swarth ou n R I n 79 the yy g epublican H ercules ,

-C being stationed at Villers otterets , a little town on r w the high road from Pa is to Laon , fell in love ith ’ an innkeeper s daughter there , and duly married

2 8th 1 2 her on the of November, 79 . Thus when

Alexandre was born , ten years later (on the 2 4th 1 80 2 ) w as J uly , , to be exact , he a quadroon , and dowered at birth with many of the characteristics — , , good and bad of the African race the ardent . ALEXAN D RE DUM AS 5

imaginative temperament , the levity of nature , the — impulsive soul a host of qualities which were strange to the comprehension of both friends and enemies i n after-life ; because side by side with them were all the native characteristics of the

Frenchman , existent in full vigour . All his life Dumas was taunted with his negro descent ; the caricaturists and lampooners , with

execrable taste , made the crisp hair and lean calves of the quadroon the subject of innumerable gibes . Blackwood tells us that a person more remarkable for inquisitiveness than for correct breeding once took the liberty to question the romancer rather closely concerning his ge ne a logical tree . “ D M . ? a . You are quadroon , umas he began

1 am , sir , replied the author , who had sense enough not to be ashamed of a descent he could

not conceal . And your father ? " W as a mulatto . And your grandfather ? D A negro , hastily answered umas , whose patience was waning fast—too fast for him to trouble about accuracy . “ And may I enquire what your great-grand father was ! An ape , sir thundered the great man 6 LI F E A N D W R I T I N G S O F

a e M p , sir . y pedigree commences where yours terminates

’ D u mas s title of M arqu is was another favourite

was topic for the malice of his enemies . I t asserted

D e Pa ill e te rie that he was not truly la , because

M r z r r . his grandparents were not mar ied . Fit ge ald

repeated this assertion b u t M . Parigot refutes it . “ ’ Son grandpere paternel avait épou s é une négresse M a rie-Ce sse tte (s n ) D u mas dé cé d é e en

A me ri u e a G u ino dé e 1 2 . q , la , en 7 7 Although the legitimate holder of the title after his father ' s

D u death , umas never but once in his life all ded publicly to it ; that indiscretion was absurdly mag

iﬁ d u n e . , and the truth of the statement was do bted w M Yet (says j anin) hen . Theodore Anne , in his

researches concerning the cross of St . Louis , dis

Pa ille te rie s covered the origin of the La , and proved D them to be indisputably noble , umas said simply,

w fo r I kne it . H is son his part said , I did not w know it . Such as the pride of the father and the

son . But to return .

—M r The ﬁrst of three Alexanders . A . B . \V alkl e yhas d u bbed him Alexandre the greatest

was R a true Frenchman , an ardent epublican , a brilliant soldier, and an honest man . The son , who

a t was p , at times , to decorate his facts with a gorgeous edge of appropriate ﬁction , seems to have

A lexandre D umas Pé re Le s G rands Ecrivains F rancais

8 LI FE A N D W R I T I NG S OF

, thralling one, and inclines one to believe in heredity for it is told with all that artless art of which the

. son , in after years, became such a master Our readers may think that we are as u nco n

i n s c o ably tedious in getting our hero born , as C e harles I I . could possibly have been in a com plis h ing the opposite process and we will th erefore hasten to quote the following historic document a letter written by General D umas to his brother G eneral , Brune

I am glad to tell you that my wife gave birth yesterday morning to a ﬁne boy , who weighs nine pounds , and is eighteen inches long. You can guess that if he continues to grow in the outer world in the same proportion as he has done in the inner, he promises to be a good si z e

But a sad , brief fatherhood was in store for the ’ proud parent . The effects of his two years struggle

e rse cu in a Neapolitan prison , against poison and p ’ S tion , began to how themselves in the soldier s constitution . H e took a journey to Paris to consult a specialist , and learning his fate , set to work to secure the good-will Of his comrades there on behalf

- - of the future widow. The little three year old

- M went too , rode cock horse with the sword of arshal

Bru e M d , whilst wearing the hat of urat, King of

u Naples . At last even the boy became conscio s

ALEXAN DR E DUM A S 9

S of the hadow that had fallen on the household . “ M f w y ather, he wrote in after years , gre very f weak , went out less o ten , more rarely mounted his horse , kept his room for longer periods , took me more sadly on his knees .

- G Then the broken hearted eneral , refused all redress by his old colleague the Emperor, died,

u s ffering, and in poverty , and greatly troubling for w those he left behind . The wido , in spite of her ’ prayers and tears , in spite of her husband s brilliant services to France, in spite of the intercession of — ’ soldiers as brilliant D u mas s own friends and colleagues—failed to obtain a pension from the w Emperor . Not a sou ould Napoleon grant , to keep from starvation the widow of the man who had once dared to foresee and condemn the ambiti “

G . ous Emperor , in the patriot , eneral Bonaparte And now there began for both widow and son a life of cruel poverty, a time of humiliation sweetened only by the affection of the mothe r for

. the son , and the son for the mother The widow went back to her father’s house with

- u her children , and Alexandre began his life ed ca

tion . Of these early days he has gossipped very w pleasantly , telling us of the three houses hich he r M Darcou t , visited , that of adame where he rejoiced f his heart with an illustrated copy of Buf on , and C of M . ollard , who owned two treasures , a big 1 L) LI FE A N D W R I T I N G S O F

Bible and a little park , both of which the youthful

Alexandre learnt almost by heart . For mythology, R too , the boy had a childish passion and obinson “ Cru soe ( I) gave him his geography . And so , “ w I oss e ss e d he writes , hen ﬁve or six years of age , p w these two accomplishments (reading and riting) w in a superior degree , a fact hich made me wondro u sly conceited . I can still see myself, about

- the height of a jack boot , and in a little cotton w jacket , taking part , ith the utmost precocity , i n

w -u the conversation of gro n p people , and con w tributing thereto my store of kno ledge , profane and sacred . The memory of these early days was always

ou r D u dear to umas , and he loved to dwell pon them , and introduce them and reintroduce them into his books . H e tell us that the places , sur roundings , people and events of these days all w had their inﬂuence on his ritings and character, and those who care to p u rsue the subject will ﬁnd " “ C traces of these times in Ange Pitou , atherine

" ' C l E nfa nt Blum , onscience , and other books .

The descriptions of these early days , as given

M é u in the moires , are f ll of delicate humour and D charm . umas tells us of the old chateau , and w its park , in hich he revelled , and draws a lifelike

u M D vi la . e o i ne portrait of his a gust relative , a man “ " wh o r b u t had indeed a ste n look a gentle heart . A LEXAND R E DUM AS 1 1

’ u C That gentleman s da ghter , ecilia , was one of ’ D the boy s favourite playmates . umas , then as always, had a great tendency to vertigo , and the mischievous girl delighted in trapping him into some such peril . Once during their rompings the youth

ful Alexandre fell into a pond , and ran the risk of

: mot drowning the occasion prompted his ﬁrst , w hich if it was not very witty , at least showed the

d s n la coolness and gaiety. H e tells an amusi g story of an adventure which befell him about this

time . H e and a companion were ﬁghting outside ’ D a grocer s shop , and umas was unluckily pushed

to . in a tub of honey The grocer, who was busy

a ran at work inside , with knife in his hand , after

the terriﬁed boy, who imagined that something worse than the fate of the blind mice was about T h . e to happen to him grocer overtook his victim , w threw him do n , raised his knife and care

’ fully scraped the honey off the trembling youngster s

trousers . ’ Alexandre s ﬁrst day at school was an e ventful

one . According to the brutal custom of the times he was subject to a series of practical jokes of a

rough and painful nature . The schoolmaster found the new boy crying, and guessing the truth , punished

s the boys for uch cruelty to a newcomer . Alexandre foresaw a warm reception ou tside when school was

o s t. ver, and his heart ank at the prospec H e 1 2 L I FE AND W R I TI NG S OF

determined to face the situation , since there was n no help for it, and assumi g a boldness which he

certainly did not feel , he accosted the ﬁrst boy he ’ D u ma Ss met and challenged him to ﬁght . Young impetuosity soon carried all before it ; his opponent

was thoroughly beaten , and ever after that little

Alexandre was respected and let alone . I n due course the boy was prepared to receive

his ﬁrst communion, and there naturally followed

for him a period of religious exaltation . He tells us that when the time came he swooned from

excess of emotion . But Dumas was never one on whom religion in the narrow sense obtained any hold , and he soon recovered from this morbid — M state of ultra piety. ore lasting was the love of sport which he acquired in his boyhood . He

s was friendly with all the keepers and poacher , and -when at last he possessed a gun of his own did a little sly shooting on his own account. H is adventures at the boar-hunts and other sporting expeditions in which he was allowed to take part D are told by umas with much gaiety and relish , and his character - sketches of his companions are drawn to the life.

a Alexandre was not by any me ns a studious boy, and he watched with anxiety the various vain efforts made to get him into colleges set apart for the sons of ofﬁcers . When a vacancy occurred in the

14 L I FE A N D OF

former career , under the new monarchy of Louis

XVI I I . , were frankly pointed out to him . “ Other indications of the nature of the child , “ w s who a to be father of the man , were not want

bl e t M . O ing. A certain , one of those who strove

vainly to teach the volatile Alexandre mathematics, gave his pupil an accomplishment inval u able to him

— - throughout his life a beautiful writing hand . ’ The ﬁrst indication of the boy s future career, the f ﬁrst promptings towards it , were af orded by the

-C visit to Villers otterets of the son of a neighbour,

r a youth named Auguste Lafarge , who was a cle k

- S in Paris . This city mouse tirred the deep but “ slumbering ambitions of his poor country cousin , f and when , on his departure , the young visitor le t

behind him an epigram , levelled against a cruel D inamorata of the neighbourhood , umas was ﬁred

with a desire to write French verse also . H owever,

bout-rime! his tutor gave him some to complete , w ff hich , for the moment , e ectually quenched the

' student s ardour . Then came the thrilling drama of the Hundred D Days . umas had the good fortune to see the Emperor pass through the little town of Villers C W otterets on his way to aterloo , and on his r eturn from that fatal ﬁeld , and his description of the

two episodes is most vivid . H is passionate admira

n w - w m d n tio for ill po er and genius a e him the , as he A LEXAND R E D UM AS 1 5

s — alway remained , a Bonapartist that is an indi vidual is t—in sentiment and ﬁction , though a staunch R epublican in practice and politics . H e has given us a pen—picture of himself at this “ - period . I was rather a good looking young “ r monkey , he says . I had long, curling hai , which fell over my shoulders , and which did not crispen until I was ﬁfteen . I had big blue eyes , which are still the best feature of my face, a straight

- m nose, small and rather well shaped , big and obile lips, and white and rather regular teeth . Lastly, add a startlingly pale complexion , which turned ” darker at the time that my hair became crisp. “ He was a lad of spirit , without knowledge and " f - without ear, and his roving. out door life was building up his frame with the strength to face the

- enormous life work before him . ” At sixteen a calf love-affair gave a necessary

’ D u mas s ﬁnishing touch to education . H e was stricken with admiration for one of two somewhat disdainful damsels who came on a visit from Paris . At that time our shabby- genteel hero dressed in

rather an antiquated fashion , and the girls and his

rivals made sly fun of the boy . On one occasion , anxious to “ show off ” before the “ fair in his gala attire, the impetuous Alexandre sprang across a

en wide ditch. T—he feat was skilful, but not parti larly impressive for the jumper split his tight knee 1 6 L I FE A N D W R IT IN G S O F

breeches in the effort . I n the end the girls bade the love-sick but ga nc/ze you ng gentleman return to

his marbles ! But he had learnt something, for he

f . had loved , and su fered in pride and heart And now there entered upon the scene an im ’ portant actor in the drama of D umas s life . Our hero was at this time only the junior clerk of M .

M e nne s so n , the notary , with little more than clerkly prospects and ambitions , when there came to Villers C otterets an elegant young aristocrat , the Vicomte

Adolphe Ribbing de Leuven by name . De Leuven

z z da led his young friend completely . H e could make amorous verse ; he had written plays , he had G even read one of them , at the ymnase Theatre , at Paris ; and being admitted behind the scenes of the theatres , could talk airily and familiarly to his M envious friend of ars and of Talma . The call to Paris —the call to London —what young and aspiring heart does not know it ? The summons that was at ﬁrst a whisper became to the soul of the ardent young Alexandre a call , ever ’ u now a lo der and more imperative ; and , a d y s holi day at Soissons brought Dumas into contact with

. D Shakespeare I t was Shakespeare diluted by ucis ,

D u it is true , but even cis could not entirely spoil “ wh o Hamlet ; and the young provincial , entered the theatre ignorant of all three names , came out e n

— — s r raptured daz z led tran fo med . de Leuven AL EXAND R E D UM AS 1 7

was exciting the ambition of his friend, another e comrade , Amed e de la Ponce , assisted to equip

D th e umas for coming ﬁght, by teaching him I talian , so that he might read Dante and Ariosto in the G original , and erman , enough to read Schiller .

Better still, he gave him this priceless advice , “ which Dumas gratefully records : Be sure that there is something else in life besides pleasure , love , sport , dancing, and all the wild dreams of youth .

r \ : work— rn The e is Vork learn to lea , that is, to be happy ' D umas s blood and parentage had important inﬂuences on his character ; and a third factor to be remembered is the atmosphere of the times into which he was born . Even in his village seclusion , D young umas could , as it were , feel the hot breath

- of Romanticism on his brow. The literary political revolution was then commencing a moderate “ Romantic ” like Casimir Delavigne was conquer “ ” ing Paris with his V épres Siciliennes ; Beranger was thrilling France with his songs ; and the popular — feeling against the Bou rbons the old Republican

modiﬁe d— spirit expressed itself now in songs, plays , D d . squibs an pamphlets These umas read greedily, and the seed fell on fertile ground . Furthermore , de Leuven condescended to collaborate with the k young cler in some vaudevilles and other plays, and when the aristocrat retu rned with his father to

B 1 8 L I FE A N D W R ITI NG S OF

’ he Dumas s Paris , carried heart and hopes with

him .

The months passed , and doleful news came from

' - headquarters to the would be dramatist . The Parisian managers seemed strangely bli nd to their

own D best interests . At this juncture umas was

M . e promoted to a clerkship with one Lef vre , a C e w r py notary, and it was from this to n that he

entered, with his accustomed impetuosity, into one of those rash enterprises of which youth is

so commonly guilty, and which so often appear afterwards in the light of inspirations . A comrade named Paillet came one day to Dumas

M . e and proposed that in the absence of Lef vre, ’ a who was about to p y a three days visit to Paris ,

they , too, should take a holiday in that city . I t was w w one of those mad , impossible schemes hich al ays w d D . T o recommen ed themselves to umas clerks ,

r -ﬁve with thi ty francs between them , were to set ou t to do the forty or ﬁfty miles to Paris , enjoy

—in -two themselves in the city , and return seventy ’ hours ! But D u mas s i ngenuity was equal to the

. u problem Paillet had a horse, and the two yo ths used it alternately . That halved the walking distance . The one on foot carried the gun , and the game that they shot on the way was to pay

h r W for t eir food in Pa is . henever they S ighted th a keeper , one rode off with the game and gun , e A LEXAN D R E DUM AS 19

other stayed behind to demonstrate his innocence, “ to propitiate and, if necessary, tip the keeper. Paillet explained to the landlord of the little hotel they patronised that they had wagered with some E nglishmen to visit Paris without spendi ng a sou and so persuaded the landlord to supply them with d food, lo ging and beds, in exchange for the game . ’ Needless to say , this plan was young Alexandre s . At Paris the’ ﬁrst ambition of the budding author

se for was reali d ; , thanks to his friend de Leuven , he “ saw Talma, the tragedian , in Sylla, and had the overwhelming joy of being admitted into the great ’ — D was l man s dressing room . umas du y questioned w as to his profession , and had to confess , ith deep “ ’ h . umiliation , that he was only a notary s clerk ” the You need not despair on that account, said “ ’ C n l kindly actor orneille was an attor ey s c erk . G entlemen , he went on, turning to the brilliant “ C company, let me present to you a future orneille ' a Then , at the young man s earnest request, Talm ’ D u mas s laid his hand on crisp locks , saying D e Alexandre umas , I baptise thee Po t , in the n C ! ame of Shakespeare , of orneille , and of Schiller — Return to the country go back to your ofﬁce and

W i if you have a true call , the Angel of Poetry ll be ! ” sure to ﬁnd you , wherever you are t After such a benediction , the momen when Dumas should come to close quarters with his fate 20 L I FE A N D WR I TI NG S OF

in Paris was but a matter of time , and, to the ardent

’ young man s mind , the sooner the better M e The opportunity came sooner . . Lef vre had returned to Crepy before his truant clerk , and Dumas answered the inevitable reproof with a rash resignation . This fertile brain had already begun ’ to grow its ﬁrst crop of ideas . The notary s clerk resolved to attack Paris at once . He co u ld scarcely have chosen a more inoppor ’ n tune mome t, for his mother s resources had

w 2 . d indled to a capital of 53 francs Nevertheless, Dumas contrived to sell some old engravings ; won his coach -fare to Paris from the proprietor of the

- u posting ho se , by means of his skill at billiards ; G and then , armed with letters written to eneral D ’ M umas by his father s old friends,—arshals J ourdan , Victor, Sebastiani , and the rest tokens which he believed to be better than any letters of introduc — tion h e set out for Paris . H e had ﬁrst knelt and w prayed ith his mother, who , with many fears and sighs, let him go on his audacious quest . At this point in the life of Alexandre Dumas

- there is a sharp dividing line . Until now he had been a boy , living an aimless life , without ambition and without prospects . H e himself has confessed to the imperfect nature of his education , adding, “ w s I possessed , ho ever, all the physical advantage which a rustic life gives : I could ride any horse ;

22 L I FE A N D W R IT I N G S OF

. G was poor in money and infl uence eneral Foy , D d however , received umas kin ly, but found the n you g provincial woefully ignorant . Nevertheless, W he bade the youth write down his address . hen ’ he saw the clerk s exquisite p e nmanship the General cried out W e are saved ! W hy You write such a good hand !

Dumas felt profou ndly humiliated . H e resolved

then and there to earn his living one day , not by his penmanship , but by his pen . This skill in caligraphy obtained for the despair ’ ing young man a clerkship in the Secretary s depart

D r ment of the uke of Orleans , with a sala y of about

ﬁfty pounds a year . Fifty pounds a year ! It was the riches of M onte Cristo ! Dumas hurried home

-C full of joy , reached Villers otterets at midnight, ’ and rushed into his mother s bedroom , shouting Victory ! Victory H e had indeed drawn ﬁrst blood

. 1 e Once installed in his modest lodgings , No Pat

S des Italiens , Dumas set himself to tudy. The ’ days were his noble master s , and from seven till ten every evening he ret u rned to the b u reau to work ; but half the night he spe n t readi ng

Juvenal , Tacitus , Suetonius ; or in studying geo l graphy and phvsio ogy. H e also followed with a A L EXAND RE DUM A S 23 certain curiosity the theatrical productions of the period ; but as he was not in sympathy with the

style , the dialogue , the construction of those plays,

- R n which were of the pre oma tic type , he felt no

. he desire to imitate them So steadily did work, however , that when two months later his mother

: joined him , she scarcely knew her son again he had become so serious ! M R eanwhile the omantics, like a crowd without

w . leaders , gro led and threatened inarticulately Their growing power was greatly augmented by

d G wh o the stupi ity of the overnment , persecuted C D that very moderate innovator asimir elavigne,

A nce lot R . and ennobled , his oyalist rival The

1 8 2 wa s year 3 indeed a year of revolution , literary and political . Hugo and Lamartine had already w “ begun the attack in poetry , ith the Odes and ” “ Ballades and the M editations N odie r had

em/ e published his g romances . Then came the turn of the painters ; and the Salon of 1 8 2 4was — ’ full of pictures of a new type Sch e ffe r s Death G ” D ’ “ M of aston de Foix , elacroix s assacre of ” ’ “ Chios and Coignie t s M assacre of the Inno

G er was u cents . icault, too , at work on his famo s ” e u a W reck of the M d s .

From abroad came winds to fan the ﬂames .

Byron , who died in this year, was deeply impressing “ the future author of Antony Scott , who was 24 L I FE A N D W R I T I NG S OF

eagerly read by the men of the rising generation , had revol u tionised the old ideas of ro mance in ’ Du mas s general , and notions in particular ; and

C - ooper, the now forgotten , found in the country of Chateaubriand and Rou sseau a congenial home for

his poetic romances of the prairies .

u All this time the yo ng collaborators , de Leuven

D . and umas, had not been idle I n spite of his

content with his modest salary , young Alexandre

r had spent more than double that income , du ing the h ’ ﬁrst year, and his mot er s little store was almost e gone . At this crisis a third p rson was taken — into the flourishing dramatic partnership a clever drunkard named Rousseau ; and the little play ’ ”— which resulted La Chasse e t l A mour though ea G rejected at the Th tre ymnase , was accepted at

1 8 2 . the Ambigu , and played with success in 5 This lightened the poverty which was weighing upon the ’ D author s household , and thus emboldened, umas

put together three little stories which he had written , and persuaded a foolish publisher to go halves with

him in the risk of producing them . This little v C ” olume , Nouvelles ontemporaines , of which we shall treat at greater length later on , was published

1 8 2 6 D in , but was not a success . umas tells us variously that four and again that six copies only were sold. I t was favourably reviewed, however ,

-of by Etienne Arago , and proved a species of letter A L EXAND R E D UM AS 25

’ d z R evue aes Deux intro uction to Bulo , when the ’ M ouaes came into existence . I n the midst of these ever -growi ng interests and possibilities—for Alexandre had now the privilege of contributing (without pay) to a monthly magaz ine

L e P s cke called y , and was interested, along with a

Lassa ne colleague named g , in the fortunes of a “ ’ second play called La Noce e t l E nte rre me nt w ’ a blow fell upon him . Ne s of this employee s frivolous dallying with the M uses had reached the

Lass a ne was ears of the authorities, and g forbidden

u to encourage such evil practices for the f ture . Dumas was so alarmed at this threatened stoppage

- of his life work , that he found courage to beard his

M Ou dard f superior , . , in his den . That o ﬁcial , it appeared , would be pleased to permit the young clerk his literary pranks, if he strove to emulate D D elavigne ; but umas replied , with more honesty than prudence , that if he did not hope to do some

in r f M thing the futu e very dif erent from what . D elavigne had done , he would then and there renounce all his ambitions . This answer was treated as an impertinence by the chiefs of the

u bureau , and la ghed at as the drollest of jokes by the rest of the staff. From this time dated the series of petty persecutions which in the end cost the youth his salary, and nearly lost him his place . W D on i hilst umas was struggling , more or less n 26 L I FE AND WR IT INGS OF the dark as to the nature and direction of his own abilities, two events of great importance happened .

Louis XVI I I . had died , and had been succeeded by

C n X . i harles , whose career some respects resembled C that of our James I I . harles had pledged himself on his accession to abolish the censorship ; but he

- - soon attempted to re impose it . A political literary agitation followed, and after a struggle the obnoxious threat was withdrawn . The other event was the arrival in Paris of Kean and an English company of

Shakespearean actors . Not so long before, English players had been pelted from the pit of the Porte St M 1 8 2 artin , but at this moment ( 7 ) the French had

- been sei z ed with Anglo mania . Scott was being read and dramatised on all hands ; Gui z ot was

a l i studying the British constitution , for future pp cation to French politics , and Byron was a literary D fashion . umas was even more prepared to wel come Shakespeare than were the majority of his ” - R . fellow omantics H e saw Hamlet, and it electriﬁed him . He knew every word of the play beforehand , and strange as he found the E nglish style of acting, he saw light for the ﬁrst time on the path of his future . But let him speak for him self

Ah , this was what my soul had been seeking after this was what I had lacked , and which had come at last ! Here were actors forgetting that they were A L EXAND R E D UM A S 27 — acting here was mock life become real life, by the power of art ; here was truth of speech and action , which transformed the players into human beings , with their virtues , passions , and weaknesses ,

- instead of into cold blooded posers , unnatural , de — clamatory , sententious . I read nay, devoured not only the repertory of Shakespeare but that of d every other foreign ramatic poet, and I came to recognise that in the world of the theatre everything emanates from Shakespeare, as in the real world all

S emanates from the sun . I recognised , in hort, that he was the one who had created most , after d G o . “ From that moment my career was decided I felt that the special call which is sent to every

man had come to me , then ; I felt a conﬁdence

n which has ever since failed me. Nevertheless I did not disguise from myself the difﬁcu lties which

- k w s u ch a life work would involve . I ne that above all other professio ns this o ne demanded deep and

special study, and that, to operate with success upon

u living life , I should ﬁrst need to st dy dead nature C M . e long and earnestly Shakespeare, orneille , oli re, G e —I Calderon , o the , and Schiller laid their works ’ before me , like bodies on the surgeon s table , and with scalpel in hand , long nights through , I probed them to the heart to discover the secret of their

saw s life . I by what admirable mechanism the e 28 L I FE A ND WR IT ING S OF authors set the nerves and muscles of their crea tures moving and working, and noted with what — skill they clothed and re clothed with different ﬂesh ” that framework which was always the same. " Dumas had translated the Fiesco of Schiller, m w e and vainly atte pted to dramatise Scott ith Souli , but Shakespeare ﬁlled his heart and brain with new o n . thoughts , greater ambitio s No s oner had the E nglish actors gone than the Salon opened , and im the young author, paying an early visit, was mediately impressed by a picture representing the murder of M onalde sch i by order of Queen Chris tine of Sweden. D umas sei z ed upon the incident then and there as a subject for a poetic drama ; he found the details of the tragedy in an article M in the Biographie ichaud , and set to work . C hristine was soon written . I t was only half classical in style, for although it observed some of “ ” was u the unities , it thoro ghly romantic in form . “ was What, then , to be done with the bastard f in ant, born outside the pale of the I nstitute and ? D k the Academy umas as ed himself. The C é - om die Francaise, a State endowed theatre, ruled G by the overnment and a committee of its actors, and bound by tradition to the classic school of C R w orneille and acine , ould not be likely to tolerate any suspicion of vulgarity, in the shape of plays s ca t in the mould of Shakespeare . But this very

3 0 L I FE A N D WR ITING S OF

e of the classic school , and he smilingly bad the young iconoclast go back to his desk—and stay there . Yet again the play was read , and once more set aside for revision ; and this time D umas took the opportunity of remodelling and entirely altering the motive of the play . Poor “ Christine ” ! No sooner was she clad in her new robe, than bureaucratic and social intrigues forced D umas to consent to the indefinite postpone ment of its production, in favour of another version of the subject by a more influential writer. But he m was far fro being daunted, and a chance occur rence set him on the road to success by another path . One day the office cupboard from which Dumas

- was usually got his writing paper was locked , and he

n f obliged to go i to another o ﬁce to fetch some . As he passed throu gh the room his eyes fell on a book

w s which a lying on a desk . I t was a volume of

A n u etil q , open at the passage which describes the ’ D G M é rin uke de uise s jealousy of St g , and the trick which he played upon the Duchess in cons e qu e nce Guise gave her a dose of what he called

bu t poison, which turned out to be harmless soup . The incident seemed so dramatic that it excited ’ Dumas s n i terest , and he sought for and read the

M é rin story of the murder of St g , and of Bussy ’ “ ’ ” d A mboise M é d E stoil in the moires e . From

A L EXAND RE D UM A S 3 1

c these, he tells us , he onstructed his play of H enri

et sa C Trois our .

-ﬁve I was then twenty years of age , he writes ; ’ Henri Trois was my second serious work . Let a conscientious critic take it and submit it to the — most searching examination h e will ﬁnd in the matter of style everything to censure ; in the matter

of plot , nothing. I have written ﬁfty dramas since

and none of them is more skilfully constructed .

These are bold words , and would be boastful if

good critics did not conﬁrm them . ’ The young author s superiors were equally busy

during this time . They piled the work upon him for fear that he should use a minute of their “ ” time in writing his trashy dramas ; they took D away his salary , and if umas had not been able ﬁ to borrow from La tte , the famous banker and

politician , he and his mother would have starved .

D r Finally, the uke of O leans withheld from our author the customary yearly bonus given to his “ ” staff. But for all that, Henri Trois was written ,

wa s read privately, and greeted with enthusiasm

was C é ra n a ise ao read before the om die F c , and

cepted by acclamation . — Soon the news got about that a new play a play — which wo u ld revolutionise the French stage had

w man a nd been ritten by an obscure young , little

by little the public excitement grew. The produc 32 L I FE A ND WR IT I N GS O F

u 1 0th 1 8 2 and tion was ﬁxed for Febr ary , 9 , rehearsals went forward more or less smoothly . Firmin (the leading actor since Talma ’s death) and M M dlle . ars were to play the chief parts , and D umas was full of joy and hope and pride, when n news came to him that his mother was dyi g. Madame Dumas had never possessed the bu oyant spirits, the hopeful temperament , the love of daring which characterised her quadroon son . She would probably have b—orne the anxieties which his am bi tions caused her for she loved him and believed in — him if her friends and neighbours had not aggra vate d her trouble with their croaking, spiteful ’ tongues . On the eve of the production of her son s play, the poor widow, coming away after a more or less trying interview of this nature, fell down in an apoplectic ﬁt. Alexandre , struck with despair, rendered his mother all the help which devotion

u and intelligence could give , but the fatef l night n came , and found her still unconscious and in da ger . “ ” Of all ﬁrst nights on record , probably that of

Henri I I I . was the most eventful and strange .

- was As an epoch making event , as a triumph , it greater even than H ernani a year later, and

Antony, which afterwards made such a sensa

’‘ tional aeéut. The accounts of those who witnessed

’ ’ this pmmzére have assured us that the author s description does the scene no more than justice . A LEXANDRE D UM AS 3 3

’ I passed the whole day by my mother s bed d “ s . S i e, he says She was till unconscious . At

a nd a quarter to eight I left her , entered my box as the curtain rose .

The ﬁrst act was received complacently, although the exposition of the plot was long, stiff and tedious .

As the curtain fell I ran out to revisit my mother . “ On my return I had just time to cast a glance

th e round auditorium . Those who were present

’ ' will recollect what a magnificent coup d cezl it pre sented . The first tier was crowded with men resplendent with the Orders of five or six cou ntries on their breasts ; the whole aristocracy was massed

the together in the boxes , and ladies glistened with diamonds .

The second act , containing the sarbacane episode , about which I had been so nervous , passed with n f out opposition , and the curtai ell in the midst ” of applause . “ the t to the From hird act, the close play was

: no longer a success it was a growing delirium . w Everyone applauded , even the omen and amongst M them M adame alibran , leaning far out of a box and clinging with both hands to a column to keep herself from falling. n n m f th e The , whe Firmin ca e orward to name

he author, t enthusiasm was so unanimous that the e Duke of Orleans himself ros and listened , stand 3 4 L I FE A N D W R I TI NG S OF

’ ing, to the announcement of his talented employee s

name . That night D umas received an effusive

u f letter of congrat lation , from the very o ﬁcial who had deprived him of his salary ! Next morning the successful young playwright ’s

w u room was crowded ith bo quets , which he proudly ’ D placed on his mother s bed . umas had sold the

manuscript of his play for francs , and repaid

w r Laﬁtte, when ne s came that H en i Trois was

u M s spended by the inister of the I nterior . Happ ily, Dumas straightway obtained a revocation of the

bu t order, during the interim the young author could scarcely be said to breathe !

a H e began immediately to p y for his success . An anonymous attack in one of the papers brought

a challenge from the ﬁery young author, and greater honour still —seven classical ” playwrights

drew up a pompous address to the K ing , imploring him to save the national theatre from despicable ” mountebanks , and to keep to the orthodox writers — C . e that is , themselves. Happily harles X repli d

S h ad as imply , that he only his place in the pit,

other Frenchmen had , and could not interfere .

N odie r we About this time , of whom have spoken ,

sa l on D was holding his at the Arsenal , and umas had the good fortu ne to be admitted to that brilliant ’ N odie r s M M . e nn literary circle daughter, arie e ss ier

N odie r , tells in her recollections of her father an

3 6 L I FE AND WR I T I NG S OF

- assistant librarian to the Duke of Orleans , under D 1 00 ! elavigne, at the princely salary of £ a year The author of “ Henri Trois ” was the lion of Paris for the winter of 1 8 2 9 ; Deveria made a n engraving of him ; David of Angers a medallion . “ n D Nothi g was wanting to my glory, says umas f rankly, not even that little shade of the ridiculous ” which always accompanies literary reputations . “ ” W S w ild tories ere repeated in classic circles, of th e R — triumphant orgies of the omantics , how they R had danced about a bust of acine , crying exultantly that they had “ done for him how they were call ing for the heads of the Academicians on chargers, and so forth . No wonder the Seven appealed to the K ing ! “ ” a n Henri Trois, indeed, was revelatio and a revolution . I t was a romance drawn from French t history ; its characters were real in origin , and rue to life in their words and deeds ; instead of dull declamatory couplets, and a tawdry, meaningless plot, the audience was enthralled by the rapid , S h merciless development of a tory of uman passion . M é rin D G The love of St g for the uchess of uise , ’ D M é rin the uke s jealousy of St g , both private a the and politic l , vivid picture of H enri I I I . and his mignons and the everyday life of the French — court the series of dramatic scenes which develop

u M é rin the intrigue, ntil St g goes to the assigna

A LEXAND R E D UM A S 3 7 tion which Guise forces his wife to make—all this

so was so novel , so congenial , startling, that for the moment Paris talked of nothing else .

Our author, with characteristic tact, determined to follow up this success with another as soon as he “ possibly could . He withdrew Christine from the

C é ran a ise om die F c , where it was receiving luke é warm treatment, and took it to the Od on . H e “ had reconstructed the play , to make it more ” modern and more dramatic ; and for this purpose

n had taken coach to Havre and back , worki g out the remodelled play in his brain , to the jolting of coach ! But this time the “ classicists were not to be

was : taken by surprise . The play forbidden then , when the mandate was withdrawn and the rehearsals went forward , an opposition was organised . Fortun “ ” ately the you ng romantics rallied round Dumas ; his friendly rival Soulie brought in a number of his workmen to form a claque , and the forces were about l M oth 1 8 0 equa . On arch 3 , 3 , the battle of the

Odéon was fought. The theatre resounded alter “ nately with applau se and hissing roars of delight and of disgust succeeded each other . This terrible battle lasted seven hours . Ten times overthrown , the play sprang to its feet after each reverse, and at

th e two in the morning it ﬁnished , having thrown ”

and , ! public, panting, thrilled terriﬁed on its knees 3 8 L I FE A N D WR ITI NG S OF

“ Yet the success of Christine was still undecide d

D u when the curtain fell , and mas and his backers retired to supper , jubilant but exhausted . The author had seen that many parts of the dialogue urgently required to be altered or omitted , and had arranged that the revisions should be sent to the actors next morning ; but how was it possible for the host of that joyous company to ﬁnd the time to do the work ? Hugo and Alfred de Vigny grasped the situation , and came to the rescue . Bidding

D u mas entertain his guests , they retired to another room and wrought at the play for the rest of the

w -i n- night , and at da n walked away , arm arm , leaving the revised M S . on the mantelpiece in the room where the revellers were snoring . W ith the change c onseq uent on his achievement D of fame and (in a less degree) of fortune, umas closed a chapter in his life which had an im po rtant inﬂuence on his future . W hen he ﬁrst took

d - lo gings in Paris , he was not quite twenty one . H e

m fa lived in a garret, drea ed of me , and was happy, like Beranger’s hero

’ ” D ans une renier u on e st ien a in t ans 1 g , q b v g The handsome lad had for neighbour one Madame

-C r M arie atherine Lebay, a young and p etty seam

s . tress , amicably separated from her husband She brightened the life of the young playwright with A LE XAND R E D UM AS 3 9

her cheerful society , and the pair fell in love . When M adame Dumas followed her son to Paris, he found

D l s her rooms elsewhere , and Alexandre umas ﬁ was 7 1 8 2 . “ born of this intimacy, in 4 hen worldly temptations came upon the vain young genius he separated from his mistress , and little by little lost sight of her. Although the object of jealous rivalry and of a struggle for possession between father and

mother , and although alternately under the control

r D m u of each , the younge u as grew p to love his two

ff r n parents, so strangely di e e t in nature and position , f with almost equal af ection . As long as the father

n possessed a fra c the son was welcome to it , and th is affection was repaid to the full in the last sad ’ days of the elder man s life .

Dumas might have been , had he remained

true to his ﬁrst love , we can only conjecture . That

it would have been for the good of his genius , his

happiness, and his success , those who have read the story of this sweet and able woman’s life cannot

doubt. Although at ﬁrst there was a bitterness

the She between them after separation , remained through life proud of the s u ccess of her famous

lover, and during the last years was reconciled to

1 868 him . Her death in was one of the sorrows w n of the old Dumas , hen he himself was neari g

his end . 40 LIFE AND WR ITIN GS OF

T HE REIGN OF DUMAS I ( 1 830-1 848)

The successful young dramatist was preparing to

visit Algiers , which had just been captured by the

French , and which, (with that instinct which he D a developed in later years , umas was nxious to

R of explore and exploit), when the evolution J uly

1 830 broke out. I t is not our intention to describe the political

n l C X and crisis which led to the dow fa l of harles . , the accession of the younger branch of the Bourbons D in the person of Louis Philippe , uke of Orleans , but sufﬁcient must be told to explain the part which

- our hero played in the strange tragic farce .

C . harles X had done much , during his brief reign , to rouse the old revolutionary spirit by his auto

. 2 th 1 8 0 cratic measures On the 5 J uly 3 , he caused “ ” “ the famous Ordonnances to be issued , putting f an end to the reedom of the press, already largely

curtailed , appointing a new mode of election , and " - t dissolving the recently elec ed chamber . Once more Paris saw the old familiar barricades rise in a single night ; faded ﬂags were brought forth, old w - atch words were revived , and old veterans re appeared ; the roll of the drums, and the thrilling notes of the “ Marseillaise resounded once more in the streets of the city. The revolutionaries, to

42 L I FE A N D W R ITI NG S OF was one who had the courage to lash the ‘ com ’ - fortabl e middle classes for their politic opportunism .

u n They kept sec rely indoors , duri g the fray, but were quite ready to take advantage of the popular

e the movement, after the danger . H e denounc d d timorous and underhan conduct of these people , and the wo rk of reaction which they insidiously h w accomplis ed , even at the moment hen the people ” were triumphing.

’ Alexandre s share in the Revol ution was chiefly — conﬁned to two e xploits the saving of precious

e r military relics , during the sacking of the artill y m museum , and the fetching of the powder fro

Soissons . This latter episode , though it had no very important bearing on the fate of the re vol u

cou wa w of tion , was a brilliant p in its y, orthy , the

' a ole on s son of N p brave general , and of the creator ’ D A rta nan of g .

Charles X . had ﬂed from Paris in the ﬁrst days of the tumult , but remained outside the city at C Saint loud , with an imposing army , awaiting the turn of events , and in particular the action of his D representatives in Paris . umas heard Lafayette (who was informally the M i nister of W a r of the insurgents) remark that if the King advance d on Paris the revolutionaries would have no powder wherewith to defend themselves ; and he at once f o fered to go to Soissons , a town some sixty miles A LEXAND R E DUM A S 43

w n e er a ay , and in his ativ department, wh e, as

- z and he knew , a powder maga ine was located, to bring the ammunition back . H is wild proposal was laughed at ; but by his persistence D umas

w recom obtained an order for the po der, and a me ndation to the people of Soissons ; and with these credentials (which he boldly took upon him self to strengthen by interpolation) he prepared for his daring expedition . “ The bold young red posted for Soissons on

oth w n m the afternoon of J uly 3 , ith a comrade a ed

wa re Bard . On the y, as one of the postillions fused to keep his horses u p to the pace of the ’ D young adventurer s impatience , umas ﬁred a

a man wh o blank c rtridge at the , fell from the horse in affright. Young Alexandre promptly donned the posting-boots and took the coach for

- Cot ward himself. At his own beloved Villers t e re ts the hero halted and—supped hastily , in the midst of enthusiastic fellow townsmen ; and having recruited a young friend named Hutin , whose mother lived in Soissons and wh o was a native of the place , the party drove forward and entered the

' w n gates of that to n at one o clock in the mor ing. All the rest of the night M adame Hutin and w her household worked to make a tricolour, hich was to ﬂoat from the ﬂagstaff of the ca thedral

r s that morning. Ba d and H utin set out to muggle 44 LI F E A N D W R ITIN GS OF

o the h to the ﬂag int c urch , overpower the sacristan and exchange the Bourbon white for republican red-white-and-blue ; and Dumas himself lingered about a small pavilion at the Fort St J ean, which

z u r was used as a maga ine, ntil he saw the t icolour ﬂoating where a minute before the Royalist flag had waved . Then he climbed the wall of the n n pavilion , and droppi g into the garden , co fronted with his gun two soldiers who were peacefully hoeing the beds, and announced his errand. After a parley the three guardians of the magaz ine agreed

as n u n to remain indoors, and behave eutrals, til some decisive order came from headquarters , and Dumas went off to accomplish the second and f more di ﬁcult part of his enterprise. C o ommandant Liniers, in charge of the dep t at Soissons , found himself that morning confronted by a swarthy and very earnest young man with a m gun , who demanded the a munition in his keeping. f n H e scof ed at the youth and his writte order, and denied that there was any quantity of powder

z in the maga ine . Dumas retired to assure himself of the truth or untruth of this statement , and on his return found that Liniers was reinforced by

or three other ofﬁcers, and therefore still more sc nful and incredulous. h saw Dumas did not esitate, for he that he “ or . I must act promptly, he was lost had gone A LEXAND R E DUMAS 45

“ too far to withdraw, he says ; I was almost m f alone , in the idst of o ﬁcials hostile to the ne w r gove nment . I t was a question of life or death

- for me. H e pulled out a pair of double barrelled pistols , and swore that unless he received an order

th e s for p owder in ﬁve econds, he would blow out the brains of the whole party ! At this critical . ’ moment the commandant s wife, who had evidently got wind of the affair, rushed in , and ﬂung herself

into the midst of the company , imploring her hus

band to yield . Liniers was now willing to give if “ “ ” D way, his face could be saved . umas took

the hint , sent for two or three of his comrades to

the n assemble in court outside, threw ope the

window, and bade them ﬁre when he gave the

al . sign . Liniers sat down and wrote the order Then followed denials and delays on the part D f the mayor and other authorities . At last umas

e z in anger brok open the maga ine himself, pro w cured carts and loaded them with the po der, and at ﬁve o’clock the adventurous little band were n on their way back to Paris . At nine next morni g

e r r Dumas deliver d his p ecious convoy, so da ingly ” at the H Otel procured, the rebel headquarters,

de Ville. But even while the young Dumas was bl u fﬁng

the Soissons garrison so gloriously, the cause

of Republicanism was being betrayed . Between 46 L I FE A N D W R IT ING S OF

the alternatives of Charles X. and an elected President a compromise was made ; and the Duke

e of Orleans , having abandon d his K ing and pro

mise d all things democratic , entered Paris , and was presently chosen lieu tenant - general of the

kingdom, and then monarch by the will of the ” “ people . A moderate party , who believed in

constitutional government , acting with the very

best intentions , had given away in reality all that “ their extremist allies had fought and died for ;

and Louis Philippe began to reign , the revolution ff having made a distinction without a di erence . f The new ruler, all af ability , congratulated his em “ l o e e S ' p y on his return from Soissons , ing , You have just written your best drama !

f a e The a f ir of Soissons , and the excited stat of

f S D public af airs unsettled our usceptible umas .

C . harles X had taken refuge in England , but there had been for a moment a fear that he might ﬂee e R n to La Vend e , the oyalist provi ces , and let D nc . loose upon Fra e the horrors of civil war umas , knowing that the late king had renounced the throne C in favour of his grandson H enri V . (the omte de C w D hambord) hose mother , the uchesse de Berri , was a woman of much courage and determination , suggested that to prevent the possibility of any n a future risi g, a national guard should be org nised R m in the oyalist depart ent , and that he should A L EXA ND RE D UM AS 47 be sent as a special commissioner to consult the responsible ofﬁcial s upon the subject Lafayette D gave umas the required mandate, and on August 1 th 0 he set out. E xcept that by his intercession a poor wretch of a

was v e D n coiner sa ed from the gall ys , umas did nothi g notable during his S ix weeks in La Vendee ; and w t r the hen on his re u n Louis Philippe sent for him . envoy declared very frankl y that it was useless to attempt to orga nise the nati onal guard in La Vendee h but t at if the were opened up , by means

- h w al l of high roads , so t at communication bet een

s l part of it might be rapid and easy , this wou d decrease th e chances of a second o u tbreak of guerilla

“ ' ” w r —So —a fare. The poet prophesied he tells us n h e u e a other , t ough a less s rio s , La Vend e , if

a ff . l y two y occ sion o ered I ndeed , on ears later,

' the D u ch esse de Berri aroused the Chouans once more a nd created a little Vendean rising on behalf of her son.

But the King did not like the prophecy .

a re w and You a poet rite poetry . leave politics

a nd r w t to kings ministe s . he said i h a frown .

S r D th e a al ire, answe ed umas, ncients c led ’ thei r poets seers . The vou ng author was dismissed from the Royal t w presence , and sent in his resigna ion forth ith . The dramatist in D umas was S till subservient 48 L I FE A ND W R ITI N G S OF

to -be his the would politician , when he wrote next “ a olé on play N p , which , if we may believe the M é ” moires, was produced under novel and comic cir f cu ms ta nce s . o For some time Harel , the manager é D the Od on theatre, had been pressing umas to write him a play on this subject ; but the young republican

- could not give his mind to desk work , and moreover ,

the theme did not appeal to him . One night, after a ‘ remiere é D p at the Od on , umas and several other f guests went to sup with Harel , and after the east M ademoiselle Georges led the unsuspecting play ” S wright into another room , to how him something . On their return Dumas found that the guests had f disappeared , and the smiling Harel in ormed his coy D young author that he was a prisoner. umas was

startled , but took his imprisonment in good part . H e was fed sumptuously and treated like a lord all the books which he req uired to consult were at his

elbow , and in eight days this enormous play was

ready . I ts author confesses frankly that it is a bad piece of work ; but under the circumstances the im blame can scarcely be laid upon h , for with him the quality of his work depended entirely upon his m r inspiration , which in turn was a atte of his own

initiative . One of the causes of the failure of N apoleon

’ as a work of stagecraft was possibly the author s

preoccupation, for his mind was full of the prospects

5 0 L I FE A N D W R IT I NG S OF

W to whom Dumas was presented (as he tells “ M C us in Le Testament de . hauvelin at the

- in - house of her father law, the bibliophile Villenave ,

in 1 8 2 7 . The conquest of a lady of position and of some pretentions to learni ng evidently ﬂattered the young man ’s vanity “ there was something of the air of Villers—Cotterets about him still —and

the young lover vowed, cursed , adored , despaired , and “ rhapsodised for three years . Then Antony was written the intimacy had unconsciously fulﬁlled its

u M p rpose , and came to an end accordingly. ean w while this amorous heart, overﬂo ing with passion , had found opportunity to fall in love with another

M M - D u elanie (the mother of arie Alexandre mas) , M D with arie orval , and others . The need for love had for the time possessed this ardent nature as

with a fever.

-in— I t was of this experiment love, in which he

took himself and his passion in such tragic earnest , that D umas was thinking when he wrote these ” verses , with which he prefaced Antony

’ ue de oi s tu m as dit aux h eure s du dé ire Q f , l , Q uand mon front tout a coup deve nait s ou ci eux ' Sur ta b ouch e p ourqu oI cet eﬁrayant souri re ? ” Pourq uoi ces larme s dans te s ye ux ?

’ our uoi ? C e s ue mon coeur au mi ieu des dé ices P q t q , l l , ’ D un sou e nir a ou cons ammen O re ssé v j l x t t pp , roid au onh eur rese nt va ch erch er ses su ices F b p , ppl , ’ a nir t l D ans l ve e e p assé. A LEXAN D R E D UMAS 5 1

J usque dans tes bai sers je re trou ve des peines ’ ’ ’ ’ T u m accabl es d amour amour e m en sou iens l , j v , ’ our l a remier foi s issé dans t s eines P p e s est gl e v , ’ Sous d autres baisers que les miens.

’ D u feu des voluptés va inement tu m enivre s Com i ur un eau our de ris e s endemai ns b en po b ~j t t l ’ Ce s ch arm es u ame s mains en a i an tu res q p lp t t liv , ’ Palpiteront sous d e ntre mains .

E t e ne ourrai as dan s ma ureur a ouse j p p , f j l , ’ D e l inﬁdél ité te réserver Ie prix ! ’ ’ ue ues mo s a au e on ai e son é ouse Q lq t l t l t t f t p ,

E t te sauvent de mon mépri s .

Car ces mo s our ou ours ont endu tes caresses t p t j v , ’ L amour ne l es doit plus donner ni rece voir ’ L usages des époux a réglé l e s tendresses E t leurs baisers sont un devoir l

M alh eur? Malh eur amoi que l e cie l en cc monde A j eté comme umh Ote a ses loi s étranger A moi qui ne sais pas dans ma doul eur profonde m s sans me en er Souffrir longte p v g .

’ M alheur ! Car une voix qui n a rien de l a terre ’ ’ ’ M a dit Pou r ton bonh eur c e st sa mort qu il te fau t ’ E t ce tte voix m a fai t comprendre l e mystere ’ u r t de l éch afa ud E t du me rt e e .

iens donc A n e du M al don l a oi me con ie V , , g , t v x v Car il e st des ins an s on si e te o ai s t t , j v y , ’ ourrais our son san t ab andonner ma vie Je p p g , ’ E t mon ame S l jy croyais

M é s f e Years after, in his moire , Dumas con ess d that the verses were poor, the sentiment was f o ne af ected, and the blasphemy was a wanton

s s prompted , his son has hrewdly uggested, by the r hyme. 5 2 L I FE A N D W R IT ING S OF

Once set at liberty by the tyrannical H arel , D umas hastened to the Comédie Francaise, where “ Antony had been accepted and placed in re

h ar e sal . M But ars and Firmin , the leading actor

and actress of the national theatre at that time , were accustomed to more orthodox rOle s than those e of the weak , fascinated Ad le, and Antony , the masterful Ishmael - o f- society ; and the Comédie

Francaise itself, as our author confesses , was not

the frame for such a picture . The two artists ,

losing faith in their parts , hinted as much to the

difﬁde nce M author, Firmin with , ars with a bold

pretext . Dumas astonished them by demanding

the manuscript from the prompter, and walking out

of the theatre .

I M r snie r t . C o so happened that , of the Porte M ’ “ M D ” St artin , had received Hugo s arion elorme, when that poet had also abandoned the stiﬂing atmosphere of the Francaise to breathe freer air

elsewhere . The young dramatist, although pro fou ndly discouraged concerning the merits of his M D latest born , went forthwith to arie orval , the M leading lady of the Porte St artin , a clever actress ,

-w i ready itted , na ve , and full of nervous energy .

H e read the play to her , and her trained and recep tive intelligence at once saw the possibilities of the piece . She shut the young author into a room ,

to spend the night in rewriting the last act , which A LEXAND R E D UM AS 5 3 did not appeal to her in its original form ; and next da y negotiations began . The play was duly read to the manager of the Porte St M artin and accepted ; but it was something of a blow to the ’ M Cros nie r author s vanity when . politely struggled

r with slumber during the thi d act , slept comfortably in the fourth , and snored unrestrainedly through the ﬁfth “ ’ ” At length the night of Antony s birth arrived ,

now and the miserable infant , which had been wait ing two years for its delivery , had given its parent D much anxiety. For once umas had lost that magniﬁcent conﬁdence in himself which aided him

w r u so po e f lly in his career. But if the moment for producing the play was — inopportune appearing as it did in the midst of — distracting political ferment the social atmosphere was charged with a feverish electricity, which the story of “ Antony ” attracted irresistibly to

itself. H ow is a social outlaw like Antony to win for himself the lovely wife of a man in high

— u and r society how is he to break thro gh , pe suade

- her to break through , all the bars to self abandon ment which society has erected ? By will - power by the strength of an unscru pulous individu ality ! For such a story of power and passion the Parisian of that day was fully ripe .

the As the play progressed , the emotion of 54 L I FE A N D W R I TI NG S OF

The ﬁ audience mounted to a painful height. rst act ended in applause ; and the s econd was as

warmly received . I n the midst of the play the

C G author, unconsciously opying oldsmith, rushed

out for a time and paced the boulevards, unable to

face his fate. The startling climax to the third act took away the breath ; and for a moment th e fate of the play hung in suspense : then the theatre

shook with a rushing storm of applause. The ” r z curtain fell on the fou th act amid fren ied bravos . “ ” A hundred francs , cried the excited author to “ - if the scene shifters , the curtain goes up again before they stop applauding ! ” And the ﬁfth act actually commenced before the audience had ﬁnished acclaiming the fourth .

’ We have already indicated the denouement of ” d Antony. That hero, surprise by the husband , e stabs Ad le, and throws the dagger at the wronged ’ man s feet, saying, She resisted me ; and I killed her ! ” 1 “ ” Dumas tells a story respecting th i s famous tag wh ich we cannot mi At a re i a of th e a some ea rs a er th e rom er h rou o . h t v v l pl y, y l t , p pt , t g i norance ran down the cur ain immedia e A n on h ad s a d g , g t t ly t y t bbe Th e u ic urious at ein ch ea ed of th e amous in Ade e . e l p bl , f b g t f l , “ ” clamoured Le denouement ! l e dtnou ement f B ocage sulked in h i s dre s n -room and wou d n ot re urn b ut M arie Dor a ood si g , l t ; v l g na ured remai ned on the s a e and th e cur ain was run u a ai n t ly t g , t g p g , i o r urn In the h ope th at A ntony would fee l obl ged t et .

di o r d de ad i n h e r ch air. Th ere was a si en A de e was sc e e ce. l v , , l A t as Dor a rose s ow a nd comin down to th e oo i h s re l t v l l ly, g f tl g t , “ ” is h im and h e i mark ed easan Gen e men I res ed ed me. pl tly, tl , t , k ll r d mids ran ic a Then sh ma e h er es bow and re i e a ause . e d b t , t , t f t ppl A LEXAND R E DUM AS 5 5

im The curtain down , the audience in a fury of

a C patience demanded sight of the author . alls and

a D rec lls followed . umas , in rushing behind the

S scenes from his box, took a hort cut through the

was n corridors ; he recog ised, and chased by a crowd of young enthusiasts , and his coat was torn to ribbons . Antony excited much enthusiasm and oppo

was sition . I t a daring, provocative play , de stined to set the fashion in French society dramas

r 7 u for th e est of the centu ry . “hen it was abo t to

v be re ived , three years later, this time at the

’ Come die ran a ise F c , one of the many journals hostile “ D u for to mas attacked Antony its immorality. The denu nciation came from such a powerful quarter

r that Thiers, who had a ranged not only for the ’ en was revival , but for new plays from its author s p , forced to forbid the performance . Dumas went to

00 law , and obtained 4 damages, and an order that

u a the piece should be prod ced within a cert in time . But even “ Antony failed to bring its author

u w fort ne, so greatly ere the public preoccupied by things political ; and to avoid the unsettling atmo

of D sphere Paris , umas went for a holiday to Trou

w was ville, hich in those days a quiet and charming

al little N ormandy seas ide village. As usu with ’ D u mas s f n him , holiday meant a dif erent worki g l p ace , for here he was busy evolving his most 5 6 L I FE A N D W R IT ING S OF

“

C . ac poetical play, harles V I I , inspired , as he ’ ” w D e M M au kno ledges , by usset s arrons feu , and “ ” by The Cid and Andromaque . H ere also one

Beu din M . came to him with the prologue of a play

w r R D hich afte wards became ichard arlington . ’

I t was on our author s return from Trouville, to ’ M D ” witness the ﬁrst night of Hugo s arion elorme , that D u mas encountered a kind friend who told him

that he was too late , and informed him of the com

v - parati e failure of the play . The critic friend was astounded to hear a detailed and eloquent eulogy of ” M r C a ion from the lips of the author of hristine . D When umas had ﬁnished , the critic shrugged

S his houlders with an air of profound amaz ement .

‘

con rere . A f he said Further words failed him . “

C . harles V I I , like H enri Trois and ”

Antony, was , in spite of its historical setting, a — play of the times a challenge to the old social régime ; a part of the romantic movement ; a power ful plea for individuality . This Dumas himself declared , in the lines which he preﬁxed to his ” Comme je devins auteur dramatique (the ﬁrst “ ” draft of his M émoires ) in 1 833

Umj our on connaitra quelle lutte obstinée A fait sou s mon genou ph er l a destInée ’ A quelle source amere e n mon ame j ai pris ’ T out cc qu e lle conti ent de h ai ne et de mépri s ue ora e eu ai re e n assan sur l a e e Q l g p t f , p t t t , ’ ’ ’ u on renne our l e our ec air d un em e e Q p p j l l t p t ,

5 8 L I FE A N D WRI T ING S OF

An incident which we ﬁnd in the M émoires ’ gives us an interesting insight into the author s skill — W D and knowledge of stage craft. hilst umas was

R d D G oubau d busy writing ichar arlington with ,

he stopped short at one point, unable to advance . R I t was at the crisis when the ambitious ichard,

u w anxio s to get rid of Jenny , his plebeian ife , so

r that he may ma ry into higher society, determines to

w u make a ay with her. Someone is coming p the stairs ; if the existence of this wife is discovered by D ’ the newcomer, all arlington s plans will be over

thrown . The only obvious resource is to throw J enny out of the W indow into the rushing torrent

w th e S below. This is here killed d—ramatist dis covers and resolves a problem of stage management.

It wou ld , revolt the audience to see a woman struggling for life every in ch of the way to that

u window ; it would make them la gh , if the husband ,

S in lifting his victim to hurl her to death , hould

expose her ankles . D At length the idea came , and umas like C olumbus with the egg, broke the end , and made it stand , thus Darlington threatens J enny ; she rushes towards the balcony , crying for help . H e follows her, closing “ n the foldi g doors of the recess behind them . A R cry pierces the silence . ichard strikes the doors w th th i his ﬁst, they ﬂy open and disclose him on e A LEXAND R E D UM AS 5 9

th e a balcony , pale , wiping swe t from his brow, and alone.

' ‘ J enny has disappeared Vozl a tou t !

wa s r u w was I t at this period of his fo t nes , hen he “ w a w riting with Anicet Bourgeois Teres , hich he ” “ A e ” describes as one of my worst, and ng le, w hich he considered one of his best plays , that

D s w uma gave his famous ball . As he ished to

i r inv te three hundred guests , and had only fou

w an rooms in hich to receive them , he hired other suite from his landlord . Three days before the

f D s f event ul night, uma turned ten of the oremost painters of France into these empty rooms to deco

r of rate them, and as the great men were all f iends

n the young author , this was at once an eco omy , an

y attraction , and a novelt . the same object of

D r saving expense , umas took some f iends out of w w o n . to n , and they shot their game for the feast

r ff was I t was a b illiant a air, for it a costume ball ,

‘ and Boh e mia~ inall Paris gathered in the little rooms , which by midnight were crowded with daz z ling

l . dresses , and ﬁlled with aughter and music Here ,

R D e M u among others , came Lafayette , ossini , sset ,

i M G D e az e t D Sue , —Lema tre , ars, eorges , j and ela croix who had painted the panel all otted to him in

! M . two or three hours Tissot, of the Academy , “ n went made up as a sick man , whereupon Jadi

- u - followed him as a long faced , f nereal looking under 60 L I FE A N D WR I TI N G S OF

’ f taker, and dogged the other s ootsteps , croaking out “ ’ lugubriously every other minute , I m waiting for ’ ” you ! I m waiting for you ! The party broke up at nine in the morning, with a wild galop in the street . And now events conspired to work an important ’ s far Du ma s . change in life So , the author of “ ” u G e Antony, under the inﬂ ence of o the and “ ” M Byron , had posed in his writings, as a anfred or a M ephistopheles ; and with folded arms and f cynic laugh had a fected to deny, and disdain ,

. B the virtues and pleasures of —the world ut one day Dumas wrote a begging letter for his friend

LaSsaill y, who , on reading the note, turned to its fi author with a stu pe e d air. W ” “ ! ell , he said , this is comical W hat is ! Why , you have wit ’ ” Why shouldn t I Envious fellow ! ’ five f Well , you re probably the first man of eet nine who has ever been witty ! D umas has himself defined and described his “ “ b . e own gaiety Some folk , he says, are gay ’ or cause they re well , have a good digestion, or have nothing to worry about—that is the ordinary gaiety. But mine is invariable gaiety, which shines through disturbing influences , through troubles, ” through danger itself. The young writer had been unconscious of the A LEXANDRE D UM A S 6 1 existence of this unfashionable quality ; but it was — destined to S how itself henceforth first in his books of travel , and afterwards in his comedies and romances ; and , in short, more or less in everything w he rote or spoke . ’ D u mas s gaiety does not, perhaps , appear in his — — “ first romance if we can call it so of Isabel de ” Baviere . Four of his friends had previously

scraped together a little money , and started the ’ w - R evu e a es D eux M ondes orld famous , and

D - n umas agreed to assist the new born with his pe . The H istoire des D ucs de Bourgoyne of Barante made a powerful impression upon him at this time “ ” “ ﬁnishing, he says , the work begun by Scott .

Still , the young author did not feel strong enough to write an entirely original romance ; and he there

u u fore put into a picturesq e form , and into dialog e ,

n w selected sce es from Barante , hich he ﬁrst called “ e Sc nes H istoriques, and which proved a great

R evu success in the pages of the e. This decided the ambitious author to write forthwith the history

r wn . of France from the days of Cha les V I . to his o I t is hardly credible—and yet Dumas confesses to — it his ignorance of history at this period wa s so profound that he was studying it by the aid of poetic tags !

’ E n l an ua re-cen - in h aramond remier roi q t t v gt , P , p , r a s i ue lOI E st connu seu leme nt pa l al q . 62 L IF E A N D WR IT ING S OF

The novelist was delivered from this school -book thraldom by a more learned friend, and introduced ’ ” n u é e to Thierry s Co q t des Normands . H istory became a passion with him , and the days of that tremendous historic-romance-cycle grew nearer and nearer .

1 8 2 I n 3 the cholera swept over Paris, emptying n the theatres, ﬁlli g the cemeteries, and carrying terror everywhere. Nevertheless it could not ’ — daunt our author s new found gaiety : he wrote the dialogue of one of his wittiest plays Le M ari de ” — la Veuve for an actress who was about to take

s s m a beneﬁt, and who begged from Duma o e novelty to put on the bills . Every night a group ’ “ D u ma s s of friends forgathered in rooms. We chatted sometimes Hugo decided to recite us some of his poetry ; Lis z t thumped hard on a wretched piano, and the evening passed by without one of us thinking any more of the cholera than if it ” had been at Pekin .

But one evening, immediately after Dumas had watched his joyous friends depart, he himself was

z sei ed with the cholera . For ﬁve or six days he n was prostrate and in great da ger, but his wonder ful physique withstood the attack of the terrible Th disease . e ﬁrst person to greet him in his was the r convalescence Harel , manage of the

O é . d on The cholera , he cheerfully declared , had A L EXA ND R E D U MA S 63

gone away without even making its expenses , and he pressed the fever-ridden author to set about

ne w a play . This was destined to be La Tour de

Nesle . The plot of that drama was common pro ’ perty ; from Villon s day all French readers had M known of the vile Queen arguerite of Burgundy , of her foul , nightly revels in the terrible Tower, and of the bodies which were found in the Seine next morning. I t may be added that there is not a

r w horro , or an incredible incident in the play, hich

r u histo y has not only j stiﬁed , but asserted . The authorship of the play led to a long and

u acrimonious disp te, which is best described in the words of M r W alter H erries Pollock “ I t seems to me that no one who devotes a moderate attention to his dramatic works can reasonably doubt that in the celebrated quarrel

‘ ’ about the play called the Tour de Nesle , right D w was on the side of umas . This quarrel is orth

u some attention . The story takes p some four ’ ’ D u mas s M é chapters of moires but brieﬂy, the main facts were these

re Harel , the great theatrical manager, had ce ive d a play in manuscript from a young au thor

lar H e u named G ail de t . tho ght there was capital stuff in it ; but as it was written it was qu ite u nﬁtte d

’ for stage representation on account of the author s inexperience . J ules Janin had tried to do something 64 L I FE A N D W RI T IN G S OF

. with it , and had failed Harel then came to Dumas,

n who , accordi g to his own account , which I for one believe , entirely remodelled it, and made of it one of the most impressive melodramas ever put on the stage . He had previously written a somewhat

- f imprudently self ef acing letter to the young author, wh o n , instead of being grateful , was furious at havi g, as he said , a collaborator thrust upon him , and ended by writing to the papers to assert that he was the sole author of the piece . “ The matter Went through all kinds of intricacies into which it would be tedious to go ; but the last word which ought to be said about it is found in a letter written by Gaillardet in 1 86 1 to the manager of M the Porte St artin theatre . The letter runs thus

“ ‘ A judgment of the courts in 1 83 2 decreed that the “ Tour de Nesle should be printed and announced under my name alone ; and this was done up to the date of its being forbidden by the

1 8 1 censorship in 5 . N ow that you are going to put it on the stage — again , I give you permission nay , more , I beg — n D m you to join to my ame that of Alexandre u as , m him y collaborator . I wish to prove to that I have forgotten our old quarrel , and that I remember only our later pleasant relations , and the great share which his incomparable talent had in the success of “ ” the Tour de N esle .

66 L I FE A N D W R IT ING S OF

if n hol era But he had not bee shot, and if the c

f D wa s had ailed to kill him , umas still in some ’ - - danger. One of the king s aides de camp gave the literary politician a hint that the question of his

te m or arrest was being considered, and advised a p D ary absence from Paris . Accordingly umas set

1 8 2 w z . out in J uly, 3 for S it erland w h This tour, the account of hich delig ted the public by its freshness , gaiety and picturesque style, W possessed one or two notable features . ith true D C journalistic instinct umas called on hateaubriand, - R the self exiled oyalist poet, and chatted to him of politics ; he interviewed Jacques Balmat, and heard from the lips of the guide his narrative of the ﬁrst ascent of M ont Blanc ; and he wrote the famous ” - fable of the bear beefsteak , which he pretended to have eaten at a certain inn . Thenceforth travellers by the score stopped at that inn and called for bear steak , and the unhappy landlord, quite unable to satisfy the guests either with his explanations or with the required dish , went nearly mad , and cursed the very name of D umas . “ The most interesting portion of the Impressions ” de V w Voyage en Suisse , from a serious point of ie , ’ is the account of D u mas s interview at A re ne nbu rg

- with Hortense Bonaparte , ex Queen of Holland ,

of and mother Louis Napoleon , afterwards Napoleon

Th e R h I I I . young epublican philosopher did not old A L EXAND R E D UM AS 67 out any hopes to the royal exile of a restoration by f or t orce, by the power of the Napoleonic radition for alone. I n reply to a request from the queen advice as to the means by which one of her family

re - : might establish the dynasty , Dumas replied

a I would say to him, obt in the revocation of your exile ; buy a home in France ; cause yourself to be elected deputy ; and try by force of your talent i n to secure a majority the chamber, and make use

of it to overthrow Louis Philippe, and get yourself

” ' chosen king in his stead . Sixteen years later Louis w Napoleon follo ed this advice pretty closely, and his

success is a matter of history. The Swiss holiday was followed by a brief visit to E 1 8 ngland in 3 3 , and a tour in the South of France,

which was much more lengthy. The following year D umas started for Italy, with his friend Jadin , and ” “ - M . ylord , the bull dog He was arrested at Naples ” as a dangerous red, and it was only when he pro duce d papers proving that he was entrusted with a private mission by the French Government that he

was released . I n November of the following year the traveller was privileged to have an interview with G — Pope regory XV I . after which he was arrested a second time ! The next year or two passed in the most delight ful way ; Dumas enjoyed himself like a schoolboy in - holiday time , sailing round Sicily, exploiting 68 L I FE A N D W R ITI NG S OF

“ Naples and Florence , and earning his keep by

writing most entertaining accounts of his adventures . “ C Don On his return atherine H oward , “ J uan and Kean were prod u ced in successive ” i . r years Kean , as played by F ederick Lema tre ,

S made a trong impression on H eine and others ,

mi l ieu but in spite of its English , the play is so French in spirit as to appeal most to our sense

of humour . Thackeray, who was visiting Paris

about this period , was terribly shocked by the “ nai ve and earnest irreverence of D on J uan “ ” “ ” C - and aligula . I n his Paris Sketch book he “ has denounced them both , in that bluff damn — ’ - - everything that isn t English style , so cheap , yet so dear to the public . Dumas had been on familiar terms with the D C young uke of hartres , who succeeded to the “ ” title of Duke of O rleans (which co rresponded “ to ou r P rince of whe n his father ob

1 8 6 u had taine d the throne . I n 3 our a thor stayed C e with the prince at ompi gne , and when the heir

1 8 e was married in 3 7 , and f tes were held at

Versailles in honour of the occasion, four crosses of the Legion of Honour were placed at the dis D posal of the young prince . umas received one — ’ a k r . of them night s c oss Seven years before , “ ” rr w C n u on the mo o of hristi e , Lo is Philippe ’ e hims lf, at his son s request , had asked for the A LEXAND R E D UM AS 69

s for C X cros his young employee from harles . , but ’ D u mas s had been refused . name was on this ’ occasion removed from the list by the K ing s own

re order ; upon which H ugo , who was about to ’ ce ive f in an o ﬁcer s cross , declined the promotion di nantl f was l g y. The of ending name according y re - two entered on the list, and the friends went

-in- u e . B t to the f te together , and left it arm arm

Alexandre felt that the honour came too late . f o - u t I nstead fastening it to his button hole , he p

it in his fob . By this time Dumas had become so famous

that, with his artless vanity , his outspoken ways ,

- and his unbusiness like methods , he had earned a

u host of enemies , mockers , detractors , den nciators “ C ” and the like . H is aligula failed , although it was p roduced at the Comédie Francaise in the most costly fashion ; and its au thor discovered that the leader of the claque (or organised gang of applauders) had been bribed by a number of

actors, who were not performing in the play, to do all he could to damn the piece ! I n 1 8 38 Dumas suffered the great misfortune w of his life . H is mother, to hom he had been

so passionately attached , died suddenly . Friends brought him the news that M adame Dumas had

been seiz ed with a second apoplectic stroke . T he

f r d ﬁrst attack , eight years be o e , had partly disable 70 L I FE A N D W R I T ING S OF

ff i the su erer, and this one proved almost mme diately fatal . The dying woman was able to open her eyes and look on her son once more W D and that was all . ith a choking heart umas sent word of the event to his young patron , and an hour later the kindly duke was at the street door in his carriage . The mourner ran out, at this sign of friendly sympathy , and kneeling at ’

. re the prince s feet, burst into tears There was morse mingled with grief in this passion of regret for the life that was passing away in the room above , for although Alexandre had usually visited his mother constantly, and shown her every loving ff mark of a ection , there had also been periods of

e abs nce and neglect, which now he regretted only too keenly.

At the foot of the sketch of his dead mother, D D which uval drew , umas wrote these lines

Oh mon Die u I D ans cc monde oil ou e ouch e nie , t t b , OiI ch acun oul e a u x i e ds l e s T a e s de l a Loi f p bl , ’ ous m ave z e n end u enda n son a onie V t , p t g ,

PrIer a de u e nou le cce ur arden de foi . x g x, t ’ us m avez vu mon D i e u sur la une re rou e Vo , , f b t , Oil la mor me cour ai de an nu cruc1ﬁx t b t v t , E t ous a e z com é l es e urs ui ou e a ou e v v pt pl q , g tt g tt , R ui sse ai en de me s eu aux ieds de o re F i s l t y x p V t l . e demandai s mon D i e u ue moms i e ra 1e J , , q v t v , ’ Vous reta rdie z l i nsta nt de son dern i e r adieu Pour rach e ter se s j ours je vous offrai s ma vie ’ ’” ous n a e / a s ou u so e z éni mon D l CLl l V v p v l y b ,

1 Oh m G od i n h is wor d wh e re all men den Th e e wh ere th e , y , t l , y , n S urn th e T a e s of T h Laws Th ou h as h e ard me as I feet of me p bl y , t , A LEXAN D R E DUM A S 7 1

It D was in the next few years that umas, in the n i terval of travels and foreign residence , wrote the three comedies which seem destined to out live his dramas , and to prove in the future the

sole support of his reputation as a playwright . “ ” M - These were ademoiselle de Belle Isle , Un “ M z D ariage sous Louis Quin e, and Les e moi

C r. selles de St y These plays , which sparkle h wit wit and are alive with interest, are still in

C é r the repertoire of the om die F ancaise. The “ M ariage was commanded ” by the responsible M inister (fancy the H ome Secretary ordering a

M r G for play from rundy the Lyceum l) , was written On in Italy, and sent in to the theatre . the

' r autho s return , his enemies in the company told e him gleefully that the comedy had been r jected . D M ’ umas quietly produced the inister s letter, and informed the dismayed actors that they had no

O it w ption but to play , hether they liked it or ’ ! they didn t . Tableau

1 8 8 Dumas now led a roving life . I n 3 he had visited Belgium and the Rhine ; two years later

kne at h er ee h rou h ou h er a on ra in wi h a h ear u of lt f t, t g t g y, p y g, t t f ll n m h God o wi h h e r on h a as sad ai h . T h ou h as see e o f t t , , g t t t l t ’ ou rne wh e n D ea h s h and owed m ack and en m az e on th e j y, t b y b b t y g cruci and Th ou d i ds coun th e ears ha one one s reame d ﬁx, t t t t t by t h G od h T r m m e es on th e ee of Th S on. I asked o a h ou f o y y f t y , , t t ou ds d a for a wh i e h owe er ri e th e as ar in of mo h er w l t el y l , v b f, l t p t g t

T o urch ase i e for h e r I wou d h a e so d m own. It was and son. p l f l v l y not Th wi : be Th ou e s oh m God y ll bl t, y 7 2 L I FE A N D WR ITI NG S OF

1 8 1 he went to Italy , returning there in 4 and again M 2 1 8 0 . in 1 84 . I n 4 he married dlle Ida Ferrier,

- a fascinating woman but a second rate actress , who ’ “ appeared in her husband s tragedy - drama Cali ” gula, and other subsequent plays . The marriage

wa s - a very ill advised one , and ﬁnally extravagance and irreconcilable differences of character combined caused the lady to leave her husband and go to

live in Florence. She never returned to France ,

1 8 and died in I taly in 59 . C D ” The omtesse ash , an intimate friend of D umas and his wife , has given us , if not the real “ ” excuse for his immorality, at least the true ex planation of it : “ A woman W ho would have loved him enough to love him as he wished to be loved (she writes ’ in her M émoires d A u tre s a woman who would

have had the tact to close her eyes to his pranks,

e and make home comfortable , so that he could invit

wou ld n ot his friends there ; and above all , who ’' ’ ' — /za ve a zstu roea ni ne i n azs zoomé that woman would

r have been pe fectly and eternally happy with him . The character of M adame Dumas has been “ ” r wn clearly d a for us by the same pen . Ida was a beautiful woman of mediocre abilities and

w u w n . ith a jealo s , narro and contemptible ature ’ a M D u mas s b u t She toler ted little arie , daughter ,

u hated young Alexandre, beca se of the love his

74 L I FE A N D W R ITI NG S OF

f l u . h himself was ooked pon as immoral T ere ore, when the opportunity came to him to play a prac

mu f/ ere not tical joke on his f he could resist . W hilst Dumas was staying in Florence a bout

- Doli n this time an actor friend of his, named g y, came to him and asked permission to play some

- of his best known dramas . The author gave his consent willingly, but warned the actor that the u a thorities would refuse him permission to perform. When Dol igny returned he confessed that his friend was right—the censor had rejected the plays by “ that immoral writer” —but Dumas came to the rescue . H e took Doligny with him to the f new o ﬁce of a friendly printer, and ordered covers

u for the four plays in q estion . I t was very simple R I n place of ichard Darlington , by A . Dumas, “ E ’ was printed Ambition, or the xecutioner s Son, ” by E ugene Scribe. “ D e . I n place of Ang le, by A umas, was printed ” u e A Ladder of Petticoats , by E g ne Scribe . “ D I nstead of Antony , by A . umas, was printed ’ ”

e . Love s Victim , by Eug ne Scribe “ “ M M I nstead of La Tour de Nesle , by . " “ Gaillardet . D and A umas , was printed Adultery ”

Pu E e . nished, by ug ne Scribe — The old play—s with the new coats if we may believe Dumas duly passed the censor without A LEXAND R E D UM A S 7 5 comment ; the public found the plays masterpieces

- of improving literature, and the grand duke applauded them furiously ! I n J uly of the same year Dumas heard of the sudden and shocking death of the young Duke wh o of Orleans , was thrown from his carriage ,

u n thro gh his horses taking fright, and mortally i

- jured . Full of grief, the author hurried post haste to Paris , and arrived just in time for the funeral D ceremonies, and the interment at reux . H is

w u sorro for the promising yo ng prince , of which there is no reason for doubting the sincerity, was

u f artless and nrestrained , and af orded his enemies ample scope for mockery.

‘ D umas like a e , most French uthors , had a desir to be judged Immortal whilst he lived , and had already more than once put himself forward for

u election to the Academy, and in partic lar to the seat vacant by the death of his old colleague and “ C D . rival asimir elavigne , the author of Louis XI

1 8 t e But in 43 , as on previous occasions , he was

e cte d j by the Forty , whose orthodoxy was shocked “ by the audacious methods of this W icked Romantic . On one occasion H ugo would have n ominated Dumas

bu t r . for a vacant chair , there we e only thirteen Academicians present and twenty - one votes were D necessary for ele ction . umas consoled himself “ with the fact that be occupied th e forty-ﬁrst 76 L I FE A N D W R I TI NG S OF

” f in auteuil good company, and recollecting the treatment which the Academy had meted out to C M e great Frenchmen , from orneille and oli re , w R down ard . epulsed once more , he returned “ e a to Florence, saying to himself, J demande

' ‘ ’ e l e uara ntzeme il i tre g , mais para t qu on me faire ' ” “ faire gu a ranta zne ! ( I ask to be made the fortieth , but it appears they wish to keep me in quarantine ! The year 1 844 was one of the great years in “ M ” the life of Dumas . Les Trois ousquetaires “ M C and onte risto both appeared at that time , and were welcomed enthusiastically by the public .

' D u eu zl l eton m ring their progress in f for , people ’ had discussed the sayings and doings of D A rtagnan

D e me n e w or ant s as if the were aliv , and kno n to

— V ill e m s n . e sa t everybody as , indeed , they were tells us how he woke his wife in the night to tell her of the escape in the sack from the Chateau ’ d If ; and Gautier has described amusingly enough the grip which the two books obtained on the

r u D imagination of the Pa isian p blic . umas had f achieved a second ame . “ M I n his preface to Les Trois ousquetaires, Alexandre Dumas ﬁl s has left us a charmi ng picture of his father at the time these great romances were

e w written . Their author was th n orking in some t modes lodgings , overlooking the courtyard of the

7 8 L I FE A N D WR IT I N G S OF

C . risto , in his presence, on the ﬁfteenth page

the Not wishing to depart from his rule, romancer “ took a fresh sheet , wrote at the top Les Trois ” M S ousquetaires , and completed ﬁve heets of the new story before ﬁnishing for the day ! I t will be readily understood that with his 60n ’ lzomie and contagious wit D umas s social popularity

V ille me ssa nt was enormous . , whose stories of ” “ the master were always amusing and sometimes trustworthy, tells us “ W hen he spoke , the most celebrated guests were silent , in order to listen to him ; when he wit entered a salon , the of the men and the beauty of the women—all that makes for the joy of life

one were eclipsed by the glory of this man. H e

r was really the K ing of Pa is , sovereign by virtue — of intelligence and wit the only man for a whole century, who had made himself adored by all classes of society. Janin relates that on the occasion of the Duke

’ of M ontpe nsie rs wedding with the I nfanta of Spain e M . a grand f te was given at adrid An old diplomat, arriving late , was astonished to see there a man m dressed si ply in black , and a perfect stranger, to whom the greatest lords of Spain were listening with all their ears , forgetting the queen and the royal bridal pair in their enjoyment . He asked who the attraction was . A LEXAND RE DUM AS 7 9

’ “ ’ Pam i eu re , answered his friend, that s Alexand Dumas—who else do you think it would be M -C n A certain Parisian named . Pitre hevalier, bei g

- V ill e me ssant a sort of Lyon H unter, was (so declares) anxious to obtain the presence of all the social cele britie s -of f at his salons , and made unheard ef orts to sec u re the lion of the hour for one of his evenings . D umas chose his salons , as he chose his theatre , or

eu il l etons w the newspaper for his f , and hen it was “ ’ known in Paris Dumas will be at S o-and-so s to night ! society attacked the lucky host’s house as if it had been the doors of a theatre, on the night of a

remiere u p ; all the company stood p as he entered , and his journey towards his host was a sort of

r - w triumphal procession . Pit e Chevalier had his ay; but the next day the gossips of the boulevards ’ talked of nothi ng but D u mas s latest mot. Asked by a friend whether he had enjoyed the evening

- D u M . with Lyon H unter , mas replied , “ W ’ ell , I should have been very bored, if it hadn t — been for myself At one of these soirées Dumas was wearing the

n ribbon of a certain order , havi g recently been made

a commandant, and an envious friend remarked

upon it. “ M w “ y dear fello , he said , that cordon is a wretched colour ! One would think it was your woollen vest that was showing ! 80 L I FE A N D W R I TI NG S OF

d ’E D Oh no , my dear replied umas with “ ’ ’ : a smile, you re mistaken ; it s not a bad colour it

is exactly the shade of the sour grapes in the fable . ’ G oz l an one day asked Dumas why a certain oete

u oi r of his had received the Legion of Honour . “ D ’ on t you know answered the author , look w ing ise , and as if he had some State secret to

reveal . ’ — ’ Certainly I don t know you don t know e ither ! ! Ah , but I do, though — ! Then , tell me ’ — — ’ They ve given him a cross becau se h e hadn t one ! ” This is as severe as M ark Twain’s comment that ” few escape that distinction .

W at a riting furiously his rom nces, our author

exiled himself from society as much as possible , and for that purpose retired to some rented rooms in the

Henry IV . pavilion at St Germain but even n there he was constantly disturbed by frie ds , para

and sites duns , and in despair found it necessary to D . G move further aﬁeld riven from St ermain , he discovered between that town and M arly a S ite which

for u n re seemed to him to be an ideal one a quiet , p

n w own—h e tentio s house , hich should be his was

’ tired of living in other peoples houses . He arranged

- with an architect for a two or three roomed cottage, where he could work in peace . But as he discu ssed

8 2 L I FE A N D IV R IT I N G S OF

condemning him for keeping “ a literary factory

“ ’ ” for setting up as a eoi j/p/i ee of shame ; a n d for “ R - laying his hand on eputation , that white winged

maiden, dragging her through the mire , and violat

z m ing her before the public ga e , with uch more D ff . r to the same e ect Unfo tunately umas himself,

- calling in unexpectedly , interrupted the back biting

w h e process ; and hen left, after a ﬁerce encounter w ith his circle of enemies , they passed a mild , emas

cul ate d u w resol tion hich , coming from so unimportant ff a body , had little e ect . “ F u na mbu Theodore de Banville , in his Odes

les u e s bu t q , has some amusing quite untranslatable D . w verse on this episode umas is passing by , hen “ u a mirecourt darts out of the crowd , and ab ses

u the . great man in the fo lest manner. After the D thing has exhausted its bag of spleen , umas

replies .

D oci e au mire cour il l ui ai ssa ou di re l t , l t t , ench a son ron re e u r ui s a e c u h sourire P f t v p , v , ' ’ " 1 F it A s -tu de ezi ne ac uo ? j , J q t

Thwarted thus , Jacquot published his venomous “ M D e t Cie pamphlet, aison umas , by which he

- got little credit or proﬁt . There was a half truth w in this lie , and if it had been told ith mod e ration a nd r n l a nd r wa in a f ie d y app eciative y, it might

1 D um i h v r as pol tely all owe d t e mire c o t to say i ts say ; th en i ncl i ned - h i s h o u h u ro w owa rd s th e crc. . ui e and as ke d W i th a smi e t g tf l b t l , H as h ou unch ed to-da a c uo t t l y, J q t A LEXAND R E D UM A S 83

have had a salutary effect . As it was, both the squib and the motive for it were alike contemptible . One of the “ workmen attacked challenged the D slanderer, who , at the instance of umas , was ’ Du sentenced to ﬁfteen days imprisonment . mas ’ l s u l ﬁ took p his father s cause , and cha lenged Jac

r t quot also ; but that gentleman , with cha ac eristic cowardice , shirked the encounter. Yet this con tractor for the gu tter press of Paris had no t written

u D u in vain ; for most s bsequent biographies of mas,

n whether in E glish or in French , seem to have ’ been founded on J acquot s statements , and to be actuated by his spirit .

1 8 6 D M I n 4 the uke of ontpensier , younger

- was r brother of the ill fated Orleans, bet othed by

s t Louis Philippe to the I nfanta of Spain , and e out

M r . G for ad id , for the wedding The French overn ment invited D umas to accompany the prince and act as ofﬁcial histriograph e r on this impo rtant

r r occasion . Further, he was instructed to go fo wa d to Algiers , and , in his gay , informative and incisive “ w n e . way , to teach France all about its colony A friendship had sprung up between the young D D uke and umas , and the arrangement was a pleasant one for all parties . The writer , his vanity

ﬂattered by the commission , accepted , although at n the very shortest otice , and without for a moment considering the consequences to himself. 8 4 L I FE A N D W R ITI NG S OF

The Royal party arrived at M adrid in October ;

v u , D the wedding d ly . took place and umas recei ed

the cordon of Charles I I I . on the occasion of the

au spicious ceremony . I n due course he visited

L e Vel oee Tangiers , in the State vessel , called at G ibraltar, crossed again to Tetuan , and took an honourable share in the delivery of some French

M . men , captured by the oors Although he did not

' — M make a lo ng stay at Algiers where — arshal B u geaud failed to meet him as arranged Dumas

S C sailed on to Tunis and the ite of ancient arthage , and duly embodied his adventures in two series of ” “ ‘ ” “ De C impressions Paris a adix, and Le

’ ” Veloce . ’ All this was wormwood to Du mas s enemies in

Paris , and they were numerous and inﬂuential . On his return his travels were made the subject of a savage attack on the Government and their D C . envoy, in the press, and in the hamber of eputies

N o w M S al vand ,although . y had expressly charged D umas with the mission to Algiers, and although

M . G z M th ui ot , the Foreign inister, had given e

author special instructions , as well as a passport, h im n placing under national protection , the mi isters made a discreditable attempt to explain away their

w ce connection ith monsieur , as he was insol ently called , and to pacify their enemies at the expense D ’ umas s . e of reputation I t is pl asant, by way of

86 L I FE AND WR IT I NG S OF

h h i embroiled wit the t eatres, and in particular w th — the Comédie Francaise h e gives an amusing account of his “ Odyssey at the Francaise in the “ ” — Souvenirs Dramatiques ; and now that fame and

r b e fo tune had come to him determined , with his

usual magniﬁcence of ideas, to have not only his h l own c ateau , but a so his own theatre , where no jealousies should come between his genius and the

D of M success of his plays . The young uke ont pensier secured for the dramatist a patent for the w “ ea new theatre , hich was to be called the Th tre ” M H Otel ontpensier ; the Foulon, on the Boule

du vard Temple , was bought and—pulled down , and in its place the new theatre rose a splendid build ing costing over decorated most artistically and dedicated by its founder to the dramatic art of — . for D D Europe Unfortunately umas, the uke at f —the instance of his ather, Louis Philippe , it is said withdrew this permission for the use of his name, and accordi ngly the new playhouse was christened the H istoriqu e . On the Z ! St of February 1 847 the ﬁrst performance was given ; the duke and his suite being present . The play chosen was a - r R M dramatised ve sion of La eine argot .

There is an anecdote told in this connection , which is truly illustrative of the characters of prince and

u . R a thor respectively When , after the evolution of ’ 8 D 4, the uke went into exile, his box was religiously

8 8 L I FE A N D W R I TI N G S OF

e the lake rose an exquisite littl Norman building, t intended as a sor of kiosk, covered with exquisite

M ansson carvings, the designs being by , a decora tor of great eminence . Blended with the sound of falling waters—for an artiﬁcial torrent had been contrived , that tumbled over rocks as artiﬁcially

—was of arranged heard the chattering monkeys, w and the screaming of parrots, hile huge barbaric dogs of strange shapes and colour ranged through ’ ‘ M C the groves . Such was onte risto, which was ” now the talk of Paris . ’ D u mas s u i Here hospitality was princely, nlim ted . At his Abbotsford ‘ M onte M r Lang “ O reminds us, the gates were pen to everybody f but bailif s . H is dog asked other dogs to come n T a nd . h stay ; twelve came, making thirtee in all e

m a D s old butler wanted to turn the drift, and uma consented and repented.

’ ‘ M e are s e e n s ichel , he said , ther om xpe se ’ which a man s social position and the character which he has had th e ill -luck to receive from ’ n f n t l heave orce upon him . I do be ieve these

e in h . t e dogs ruin me L t them bide. But ,

l c see interests of their own g ood u k , that they " are not thirteen, an unfortunate number

‘ ’ ’ M a onsieur , I ll drive one of them way.

M h c No , no , ichel ; let a fourteent ome. ’ me a m s These dogs cost some £3 onth , aid A L EXA ND R E D UM AS 89

u s S ix D ma . A dinner to ﬁve or friends would cost t thrice as much , and, when they went home, hey

was would say my wine good, but certainly that ’ my books were bad . The owner himself retired to the pavilion to

i s work , whilst his paras te enjoyed the unbounded hospitality of the establishment , and roamed at will n throughout the sple did mansion . I t will readily be understood that under the irresistible inﬂuence G of this man , St ermain became a new place ; it

nd D s was ﬁlled with life a gaiety . uma rented the local theatre , hired a company of actors , and “ u prod ced the translation of Hamlet, for which

M . eurice and himself were responsible I ndeed, t so ransformed was this suburb of Paris , that

t e th e Louis Philippe , we are old , wond red at change ; and wished the same process to be applied to Versailles, which was certainly dull enough . t However, when it was sugges ed to him by Montalivet that Dumas should be brought to

Versailles , the king turned his back on the mala droit courtier ! “ In 1 847 the reform agitation broke out in

the France, and ended following February in the 1 downfall of the house of Orleans . Louis Philippe

i si en concernin h i s Re o u ion and andam e s u s D umas s l t g t v l t , V t ll It i s th e o ini on of th e au h or of th at h e neve r wou ld di scuss it. p t ” “ m o A n E ngli sh man in Pa ris th a t th e romancer was a tri ﬂe ash a ed f r uers of h a ime th e Republi can int i g t t t . 90 L I FE A N D \VR IT I N GS O F

ﬂed to E ngland ; and Louis Napoleon became R President of the French epublic , making him

m in 1 8 1 m self E peror, 5 , by eans of the infamous

cou d etat. p And from this epoch onward, the ’ D u mas s meteoric brilliance of star began to fade . Several causes contrib u ted to this sudden and w over helming change of fortune . Our author was,

as Ferry says, a man of independence of character “ and opinion , and this opinion manifested itself

in an originality as rare as it was disinterested .

W D u hen mas had known a prince in private life, w or in exile , he broke ith him as soon as he

- became K ing or Emperor, as in the cases of “ n M Louis Philippe and Napoleo I I I . isfortune and exile found Dumas friendly and respectful

r triumph rendered him p udent , even antagonistic . “ Thus , when he joined with his brother liberals

1 8 in commencing the agitation of 47 , he acted f with a difference . H e ounded a journal (Le M oi s) in order to give publicity to his political views ; and he protested indignantly against the destru ction of the statue of the Duke of Orleans ’ (Lou is Philippe s son) as a wanton and disgrace

u r ful act. H e went f ther, and dedicated one of his books to the exiled young M ontpensier ; and D by the time that the elections came on , umas had achieved the reputation of being an Orleanist ! d ff Still , he ecided to o er himself as a candi

92 L I FE A N D W R ITI N G S OF

’ M z I n . Bla e de Bury s study of our author there is a witty account, which we wish we could repro duce in full , of a visit to Joigny paid by the writer,

M du Chaffau l t D a certain . , with umas , during the

’ n ovelist s electoral campaign .

Du Chaffau lt wh o , lived at Sens , was awakened “ one morning, he tells us , to ﬁnd a horrible big ” devil standing by his bedside . The apparition D laughingly introduced himself as Alexandre umas , who had heard that this you ng man was a good ” fellow, and would be of use to him at J oigny . Whilst the host hurriedly and be wilderedly dressed D n w himself, umas cha ged his orn boots for a new ’ n n pair of his you g friend s , and , adds the arrator,

those he left are now in my library . I show them to visitors as the thousand -and - ﬁrs t volume of

D r Alexandre umas . By the time they had sta ted for Joigny the pair were like old friends , and ’ D umas s chat en rou te made the time ﬂy wonder

u f lly . At the second stage the candidate borrowed

r twenty f ancs from his new acquaintance , for the

D u Ch affau lt postillion , and the ingenuous young “ u - D d ly entered in his note book , Alexandre umas , w t enty francs . The same thing occurred at Joigny, where everyone came to the young man for money ; and as Dumas invited everyone who accosted him

a s i x to dine with them th t evening , the hundred francs which D u Chaffa ul t had take n with him ALEXAN D R E DUM AS 93

were gone by the following morning . I returned “ to Sens , he says , my heart full of joy at having seen and heard a man of genius . I still preserve the accounts I paid , which recall to me my two days ‘ M C ’ passed in fairyland with onte risto . I regret only one thing—that I had not had the good sense

u t to p ten thousand francs into my pocket , so that I might have prolonged this incomparable e x pe ri ” ence for a week or two . Of co u rse this pol itical failure brought social

s . consequence , but worse remained behind The f papers , being ﬁlled with public af airs , required no “ eu i l l etons ea more f , and the Th tre H istorique ,

b ad which at ﬁrst had succeeded , did terribly busi

ness, and eventually closed its doors . I t was after wards pulled down to make room for one of the M boulevards of the Second Empire . eanwhile M onte Cristo required an enormous income to maintain it , and it will easily be understood that ” this literary cigale , who had saved no store for the winter of misfortune , soon came to grief. H e was obliged in the end to abandon the scarcely ﬁnish e d palace and the newly-opened theatre to

u w his creditors . I t was a cr el blo to the great

’ man s hopes and vanities ; but he bore it well .

He had reigned , like his old employer Louis

. Philippe , from revolution to revolution 94 LI FE A N D W R I T I N G S OF

W A N D E RI N GS D E CLI N E A N D D E A T H 1 8 8 , ( 4

D umas had not given way without a struggle . “ He had p rod u ced M onte Cristo at his ill -fated theatre , and tried the extraordinary experiment of playing it , half one night and the other half the

U next ; and he had mortgaged his palace heavily .

1 8 I n 49 , at the H istorique , he brought out his “ C ” play of omte Hermann , the tone of which is in striking contrast with that of “ Antony ” and “ R ichard Darlington ; and its preface contains “ a sincere disavowal of the criminal -passionate “ w themes of t enty years before . I n the same year D u mas attended the wedding of the Prince of Orange at Amsterdam and was also summoned w to a council of state , composed of play rights and others , seven in all , to consider the question of the censorship . Unhappily , nothing came of the dis cu ssi o n w . I t was probably o ing to his increasing M D embarrassments that when poor arie orval died ,

was during this year, her old friend able to do little more than stru ggle to collect from others

u the necessary f nds to bury her decently .

1 8 1 w e R I n 5 , as have already said , the epublic ’ D u mas s fell , and buried future in the ruins . H e ﬂed

to Brussels , whither H ugo had already gone , and

D 1 8 1 1 8 there , from ecember 5 to J anuary 53 , the

96 LI FE A N D W R I T I N G S OF

’ R e ade s account of this rupture is probably the

: most truthful , as it is the most charitable D umas, if I understand rightly, used to treat w h ith the publishers and managers , and settle wit his collaborator. Dumas fell into arrears with him ,

r a rears which , if his heart alone had been to be

u cons lted, would have been paid to the centime

‘ but unfortunately he had other creditors , who in

r w t e ose d . p with legal po ers I n short , the situation was so desperate that M aquet had no course open to him but to withdraw from the conn—ection he did so , leaving francs behind him say I n 1 856-8 M aquet brought an action against D umas , but although his share of the authorship of several of the most famous romances was declared, the court awarded him no further funds a signiﬁcant fact . I n 1 853 the exile wearied to see his beloved f Paris again , and as public af airs had quieted

u down , and as no do bt pressing invitations were D issued by his friends, umas returned to Paris u f ll of a new enthusiasm . At the establishment “ ’ ” M D Or R u e of the aison , in the Laﬁtte , rooms were allotted to the great man , and a paper was issued under his editorship . This was the

M ou s u eta i re q , which started with the most brilliant prospects . The circulation throve exceedingly the master slaved at his desk ; and his name, and ALEXAN D R E DUM AS 9 7

his kindly treatment of the young and aspiring, brought a group of clever young writers about him . But the paper was never managed on business D principles , umas himself being the chief sinner in this respect all was goodwill , confusion , gaiety and “ f ” improvidence . The staf were innumerable and the noise of the many journalists crowded into the “ ’ ” M D Or little rooms of the aison was alarming . A u de b ra nd tells us that the neighbour on one side would cry to his valet “ They must be strangling some one next door ! and the neighbour on the

other side would overhear the remark , and laugh in l g y reply , There must be a woman in labour in the house I n the same volume are some amusing stories of ’ — the great man s m é nage h ow he had a triple

wh o defence i n the shape of three servants , struggled to keep duns and beggars from their ’ G w master s presence . A certain erman , ho ever,

w u called one day, sat down on the step and o ld not leave ; and D umas was eventually aroused

by the perpetual assaults on the door. I t ended as it always did ; the man was starving and M D would throw himself into the Seine if . umas

did not take pity on him . The great man pushed ﬁfty francs into the beggar ’s hands—and found himself with only two francs with which to buy eggs for the omelette for his dinner ! G 98 LI FE A N D W R I T I NG S OF W hilst the journalist worked , the dramatist was not idle . No less than four pieces were produced in

1 8 R - C é 54, omulus , a one act play , at the om die

La e u ne s se . Francaise J de Louis XI V , a comedy , ’ fu ll of M oliere and Louis s ﬁrst love M arie de M “ M ancini (played at Brussels) ; Le arbrier, a C powerful play (at the Vaudeville) , and onscience,

é . at the Od on Of the two dramas , highly moral , not to say didactic, in tone , the latter was dedicated

was D u to Hugo . I t a daring act , but mas was as imprudent in this friendship as in all others .

M z a v ivid To . Bla e de Bury we are indebted for

D [neg l u i w sketch of umas , about this time , hich he compares with the mournful home of H eine who was then also living in Paris “ ” w “ You passed , he rites , from the shades of death to the brilliant light of day to loud voices and all the stir and bustle of a manufactory The air was ﬁlled with voices in debate you trampled

oon mots upon , in the progress of your conversa tion . Then , in the brief intervals of silence, you

u : heard a pen q ietly, lightly , scratch the paper it was w W D u . mas , seated at his daily ork ithout pausing in his writing, he held out his left hand to you

u with a smile . No tum lt disturbed him and a word thrown into the discourse here and there ” was told you that he taking part in it .

u Twenty times interr pted in one morning, adds

100 LI FE A N D W R I TI N G S OF

C “ D loud , says Vandam , I ran against umas in the ’ é d A ntin Chauss e .

“ ‘ ’ ‘ W I s aid ell , you ought to be pleased , ; it appears that not only has the Queen asked to see

your piece , which she has already seen in London , b u t that she enjoyed it even better the second time ’ ﬁrst than the .

‘ ’ Yes, it is like its author, he replied the m ore

one knows him the more one loves him . But I know what would—have amused her still more than seeing my play to see me also H onestly , it - would have amused me too ! ’ ‘ Then why did you not ask for an audience ? ’ re I am certain it would have been granted , I M marked , because I felt convinced that H er ajesty would have been only too pleased to confer an honour upon such a man . ‘ W ’ ‘ ell , I did think of it , came the reply ; a woman as remarkable as she is , who will probably

u remain the ﬁrst woman of the century, o ght to have met the greatest man in France I t is a pity , for she will go away—without having seen the best sight in France Alexandre , King of the world of Romance—Dumas the I gnorant l Then he roared with laughter, and went away .

1 D umas th e ro essor of ch e mis r was ca ed D umas le sa an p f t y ll v t . " ’ mas l i - Donc au h ed th e no e is e suis D u norant. N o e , l g v l t , J g t by A . V. A L EXA N D R E D UM AS 101

The romancer was still full of energy, physical and M mental . . About , in his oration at the unveiling

D 1 88 of the umas statue in 3 , told an anecdote illus ’ trative M r of this, which we give in Lang s words “ M r D He met the great man at a seilles . umas M picked up . About , literally lifted him in his em

off w brace, and carried him to see a play hich he had written in t hree days . The play was a success the supper was prolonged till three in the morning . M w . About was almost asleep as he alked home , but Dumas was as fresh as if he had j ust got out of bed

’ ‘

Go to . sleep , old man , he said I , who am

ﬁft - ﬁve eu i l l etons w only y , have three f to rite , which

- must be posted to morrow . I f I have time I shall — knock u p a little piece for M ontigny the idea is ’

. M running in my head So next morning . About saw eu i l l etons u the three f made p for the post , and

M M : another packet addressed to . ontigny it was

’ ’ ’ ” the L Inv itation a ene -d oeu vre 1 play la Valse, a f

M ous u eta i re 1 8 D u The q died in 57 , but mas at once started another journal on the same lines , called

t sta i ll on e Cri . This year he crossed the Channel C ” with his son , and he has given us, in his auseries ,

eli ea n u an account of his brief visit o s . The pair crossed from Calais to Dover one M on

1 umas himse f s a es h a he wro e his i D l t t t t t t play n London in 1 833 (see Causeries 102 L I F E A ND W R I T I NG S OF

s day night towards the close of M ay. On the Tue ’ day Dumas pere visited Madame Tussau d s (he was

curious to see the guillotine of Louis XV I . about

h S w ich he had written so much) , and pent an hour or

so in Hyde Park . Then the party took a trip down

r the river to Blackwall , dined the e , and returned to ’ witness the illuminations in honour of the Q u een s

bu t birthday , and to see that fascinating saddening

S . ight, the Haymarket at midnight Next day the ’ party drove down to Epsom to witness Blinkbonny s D D D erby. uring Thursday and Friday umas at

’ tended Gordon - Cumming s panoramic lecture on his

hunting adventures in South Africa , and had a chat C with that explorer afterwards , visited the rystal

u Palace , and witnessed that c rious entertainment of “ C oses Lord hief J ustice N icholson , the p

l a sti e — - u s C . p q and mock trial , at the oal hole On Saturday he hurried back across the Channel to

avoid the British Sunday , of which he had had a most satisfying experience during his previous visit

in 1 8 3 3 . The brief papers on these topics are full of gaiety

and shrewd observation , and we can only regret that “ this prince of travellers did not do England on a

and larger scale , make it the subject of I mpressions ” de Voyage in several volumes . When a writer of one nation attempts to repro duce th e racial character of the people of another

104 L IFE A N D W R I T I NGS OF

“ wh the aristocrat o travelled Europe , following in the track of Byron , during the ﬁrst half of the last century ; but certainly he is a gentleman , and could never have been drawn by a hater of our people .

D re I t may further be pointed out , that umas ce ive d his inspiration as a dramatist from Shake W speare , and as a romancer , from Scott, both of hom “ W he fully and gratefully admired . henever he ” met an Englishman , says Vandam , he considered it his particular duty to make himself agreeable to him as part of the debt he owed to Shakespeare and — Walter Scott . I f Dumas has made fun many — may think legitimate fun of some of our English characteristics and customs, he has at least known how to admire our beautiful women . The S ight of

R Ro w a bevy of fair girls in otten , he tells us , caused him to realise in a ﬂash that native quality in the heroines of Shakespeare , which until that moment he had never quite understood . Some of the remarks in his chapters on Eng “ u land are worth q oting here . The English , the

‘ ’ least artistic and most industrial (I say industrial ,

‘ ’ e not industrious ) of peopl s , have almost achieved ” “ art by force of industry . I n Hyde Park you ﬁnd the ﬁnest horses and the prettiest women in

London , and therefore in the whole world . But to do the Englishmen justice, their ﬁrst glance is for t the horse, and , one might almost add , their ﬁrs ALEXAND R E D UM AS 105

desire . The English think that the bigger a ” u thing is , the greater it is . England f lly de

of serves the title a great nation , if power implies “ n greatness. Everything is forbidden in Engla d on a Sunday ; after having worked six days one ’ on s ennui e ! does not rest on the seventh , there , London on a Sunday gives one an idea of what the kingdom of the Sleeping Beauty was like before the “ Princess was awakened . The Englishman generally has the spleen in November. You may fancy that that is because of the fog, which com

' menees in November and doesn t go away until ! M ay. Not at all They have the spleen because they have been deprived of the fog for four months . You may ask me what the English make their fogs ? of Of coal , I suppose , but that is a detail . I t was

God was not the good who made the fog , it the

English .

Posterity commences at the frontier. So said “ D s . old umas, a little adly The order had changed , and ﬁckle Paris, Paris of the Second Empire , turned a contemptuous shoulder on its old favourite . France had cooled down after th e Revolution ; analytic ﬁction had superseded the romantic . Partly

- to rest from desk work , partly to warm his genius in the admiration of those strange lands where his w D works were so well known and so elcome , umas

mo e e In took to travel more and r r adily. the 1 06 L I FE A ND WR IT ING S OF winter of 1 858 he started for a Russian tour ; and the reason for this sudden abandonment of his

r journal , his contracts and his f iends , as given by M — . Ferry, is very curious and characteristic .

S was H ome , the piritualist, who then in Paris, and with W hom Dumas was at that time very R friendly, introduced the author to a ussian count and countess . Home was about to marry the ’ — lady s sister th—e wedding was to take place in St Pe te rsbu rga and the count and his wife pe r s uade d the impulsive Dumas to leave Paris with “ ” u them in ﬁve days , to be best man . Such a to r h ad been one of the dreams of his life , and was to

l- Ie n prove one of his pleasantest memories . hu ted wolves ; he visited the prisons and prisoners of R the ussian government ; he crossed Ladoga, and x e plored Finland he encountered a burning forest , in which his train ran a winning race with death ; he saw the world - famous fair of Nijni Novgorod ;

e f K al iasine he was uproariously f ted by o ﬁcers at , who broke their leave to see him on his journey ; he became the guest of a Kalmuck prince in the

C r rue aucasus, and was royally ente tained in t ,

u tho gh somewhat terrifying, Tartar fashion ; he

u R crossed savage so th ussia in a tarantass, and

n vi a T iﬂis z C retur ed , Trebi ond and onstantinople, e having thoroughly njoyed himself. And no n wonder, for his ame was known , and excited

108 L I FE A N D W R I T I N GS OF

the conquering nations the dark nationalities have

had only brief periods of reactionary success . Then R ussia will break , not into two parts, but into four It is impossible that an empire which to -day covers a seventh part of the globe should

remain under one hand . I f it grips too hard , the hand itself will break ; if it holds its prey too

s loosely, it will be forced to open its ﬁnger and

release its charge . “ I n 1 859 Dumas made the acquaintance of that ” Gline l charming woman , as calls her, Emilie “ ’ C L A miral ordier , better known in those days as , partly because she was accustomed to dress en

ar on th e g p , and partly because she accompanied romancer during his maritime adventures of th e

f a ollowing year. The intim cy, indeed, lasted until

1 86 misu nde r 4. I f we may say so without being

stood, there was something paternal in the love of D umas for the young girl , something ﬁlial in her affection for him ; and yet a child was born of this 8 l i a i son 1 60. , at the close of The news of the w D event dre from umas two charming letters, which

are worth quoting, not only because they are so

characteristic of the man , but because very few “ n letters from this livi g pen are extant . I n his introduction to “ Um Gil Blas en Californie he laughingly proclaims hi mself the literary man who

writes the most books and the fewest letters . On

1 1 0 L I FE A N D W R I TI N G S OF

: in r me to c through short, ely on herish mother and child.

A u revoi r ma eti te enerie e for , p ; mbrace me — ’ the Donna M icaella who is no bigger than one s M C. . thumb , so adame de writes I will answer ’ w s hers by the next mail , as ell as your mother ,

‘ ’

toi et l n nt . whom I embrace . A a e f a “ D M LE X . U A S A . To think that I have only got thy letter tod ay

I st (the ) , and that thou wilt not get this , perhaps , before the 1 6th ! “ ' j e t a ime The second letter is—to the baby M ON C H E R BEBE As thy good grandmother

u whom tho must love dearly , as well as thy little — mother writes me that you have need of money , I ’ 1 0 send thee 5 francs for thy new year s gift . “ I shall try to send thee also a little hamper of good thi ngs . “ There will be nothing to pay to the messenger who brings it . — I embrace thee very tenderly Thy father who ”

A LE x. D M U A S . loves thee ,

W e make no apology for adding here three letters which have no strict historical value , so far as our subject is concerned , but are too characteristic of - i their author, with his large heartedness , his r A L EXAND R E D UM AS 1 1 1 reverence (which it wou ld be foolish to take a n

éri eux s . ), and above all , his gaiety , to be omitted

C N odie r The ﬁrst is to harles , and is dated

2 nd 1 8 6 : September , 3

M y G OOD CH A RLE s —M , y great idler, my illus triou s e confr re, you who know the Past and the — ’ Present better than G od himself I don t Speak of — the future lest I h u miliate H im too m u ch be good enough to tell me wh o originated this fatal mania of

r - n autog aph hu ting of which you and I are victims . Someone has asked me this and I didn ' t know what C to say ; or rather I replied that I had my harles, who v knew e erything, and that I would write to him . “ m N odie r Ten lines , I beg, y good ; I will come

n and tha k you for them on Sunday next . You see that you do not get rid of me easily ! “ u ! Adie I reverence you as a master , I love you

r ou . as a b other , and respect y as a son

LE X . A D UM AS.

1 8 r The second letter, dated 49 , is to the c itic

n and i ﬂuential journalist , J ules Janin

M Y D E A R A N I N —Y 0u w J , kno of the death of ‘ poor little M aillet ! W e have buried her this morning. She leaves a mother and a young child . “ 8 The mother is 7 . H elp us to the best of your 1 12 L I FE A N D WR I T IN G S OF — w . po er with subscriptions , theatrical beneﬁts , etc

to get her into a hospital for the aged . if As for the child , the father does not come

forward I will take charge of it myself. I t is only ’ et three years old , and it doesn t eat much y . I will

a h work an hour day longer, and t at will be all ’ “ — D UMA t A vous LE X . S. righ , A

The third , which is in our possession , is no more

b ut than an invitation to supper, is interesting as

’ giving a list of the novelist s intimate friends . I t bears no date

— - M Y D E A R M ERY C M , ome to night ( onday) and

6 Ru R e . sup with me, 4 utier, at in the evening

e — I will take no excus Yours ,

A L. D MA U S.

1 u C s. . H go. harle Brohan

D e n Lacroix . Toto . Leuve . élin M u e . . Janin . Les g Person M i M G . o . eurice . Les uyons

V ri aque e .

“ f m R the d On his return ro ussia , wan ering J ew of

literature , as he called himself with sad signiﬁcance ,

1 Th e ues s inc ude M er th e i n i ed a M arsei es oe -au h or g t l y, v t , ll p t t , ’ and in i ma e riend of D umas s i c or H u o au La croi th e t t f ; V t g ; P l x, ’ a u h or u e s a nin th e c ri i c au M e uri ce D uma s s co a ora or t J l J , t P l , ll b t ; A u us e V a ue i i e th e au h or a nd dra ma i s Ch a r es H u o D u mas g t q , t t t l g ; /s M él in ue th e comedi an and h is W i e G u ons and h is wi ﬁ ; g , , f ; y fe ; A u us ine B roh an th e ac ress : and A d o h e D e Leu en th e ri e nd g t , t lp v , f ’ h of D umas s yout .

11 4 L I FE A N D WR I T I NG S O F

d D Imme iately he heard the news , umas set sail

for G in his little craft Sicily, joined aribaldi and his “ band of redshirts, marched across the island with them and shared their fortunes . After his con quering journey along the north of Sicily from west G M to east, aribaldi prepared to cross essina Straits and begin his campaign on the mainland at Reggio but he needed arms for the recruits who ﬂocked to D — join him . umas had francs with him the money which was to have bought h im his year of M in . pleasure classic lands H e sailed from arseilles , “ ” R after running the blockade of a oyalist ship , bought the guns with his money, and returned to G ’ I taly . At Naples he acted as aribaldi s envoy, stimulating the agitation there, and was expelled by the king for his bold , seditious conduct. ” M du C Everywhere (says axime amp , who was G ’ “ with aribaldi s staff as a volunteer), he gave the word of command, and worked to prepare for ” Italian unity . W G hen aribaldi was at length master of Naples , he made D umas the only return the author asked “ gave him the appointment of director of l ect u re ” t wa s a r s . This an honorary post, involving the spending of much time and trouble but the F re uch man had set his heart upon carryi ng o u t we ll and thoroughly the excavations at Pompeii , which had been neglected by the late government . H e was A LEXA ND RE D UM A S 1 1 5 now a l az z o installed in a little plainly furnished p , bent upon devoting all his energies to the service of arch ae ology and the discovery of priceless art ; treasures but the Neapolita—ns , learning that a stranger had been appointed to some post or other — “ M r z waxed indignant. This job , as Fit gerald

Du elegantly calls it , excited the rabble, and mas , in m the idst of his gaiety and his unselﬁsh labours , was hooted and mobbed by the people for whom he ‘ had worked so hard . For a time , the ingratitude of

was u the populace stunned him , and he undisg isedly pained ; but by degrees his spirits returned . This

’ experience was probably still fresh in D u mas s mind ’ when, on the occasion of Victor Emmanuel s

a D u triumphal entry into N ples , he pointed out to Camp that there were no Garibaldians in the

A S w procession . ( a matter of fact we kno how the

n G u ki g had insulted the aribaldians , and ca sed them

[l ut a i re l e bi en d u ne to absent themselves . ) j a f ‘ a on a ostra ite et ne a ma i s enser a l a recom ense f p , j p p , ’ was our author s philosophic comment .

Nevertheless he stayed in Naples for four years , i “ occas onally paying ﬂying visits to Paris , to have

I ndi a chat, as he laughingly tells us . But the

endant G p , the journal which aribaldi had named D f and which umas conducted, so aithfully fulﬁlled

was its title, that the editor continually in collision

’ w f 1 86 h ith Victor Emmanuel s o ﬁcials , and in 4 e 1 1 6 L I FE A N D W R IT ING S O F

u returned to Paris, where the usual ﬂattering chor s of welcome greeted him . “ u H e was j st the same as ever, says Ferry .

- big, powerful , robust , and yet so well proportioned that he could not be accused of stoutness . H is head , so firmly set upon that massive neck , was w crowned ith a forest of crisp , grey hair ; the face, with its vivacious eyes, and mobile mouth , shone with almost perpetu al gaiety . Never have good f humour, cordiality , af ability and contagious good spirits S hown themselves in a human face with such ” x e pressive fidelity . The s u mmer of that year was spent at the Villa C atinat , a charming country house on the borders of lake E nghien , where our author had for neigh M G Un bour his old friend adame de irardin . fortunately his parasites found him out once more, “ ” and his Sundays were the talk of Paris . On one occasion , when the servants , after a quarrel ’ Du mas s with mistress , had all departed summarily, leaving the larder bare , the host , who was almost as famous a cook as a writer, discovered some C rice and tomatoes , and prepared for his rowd of uns uspecting guests a regal and gigantic dish which entirely satisfied their appetites and palates .

1 86 M I n 4, the artins tell us in their interesting “ book The Stones of Paris, the American

1 18 L I FE A N D W R ITI NG S O F

Chamblay ready for production ; but not a manager in Paris deigned even to send for the “ e of manuscript of the author of Antony . Som M the Porte St artin company , however, being at ’ D their wits end for employment , appealed to umas to give them the manuscript, as they had hired the ea n Th tre Ventadour , and wished to ope with a new play . No sooner had he lent the drama to

- t the poverty stricken actors , than a representa ive é of the Com die Francaise itself, came to open

D : negotiations with him . umas refused he had given his word . The play was produced , but the hot weather and the cold critics killed it , although w hen revived later on , it proved a success in spite of the press . ’ Du mas s enemies were now gaining the upper hand of their old antagonist, and they did not spare

’ him . H e had occasion at this time to write to his old companion of the trip to M onte Cristo . One of our author’s plays had been forbidden by

r —o r was— the censor, and in France the e is no ’ t w limi to the extent of the censor s po er. H e wrote a public letter to the Emperor , pointing out that this was the seventh of his plays or books — which had been thus prohibited and that on almost every occasion it was a revi va l of the play which was condemned , and not a new play at all ! The order was revoked . A LEXAN D RE D UM AS 1 1 9

Still another rOle was reserved for this Protean — man that of lecturer. Dumas was persuaded into giving a chatty, vivid talk on the paintings of his D old friend elacroix . These lectures , which were “ ” - given at the Fantaisies Parisiens , were packed , as they deserved to be . I t was probably this success which aroused one of the lecturer ’s sleep

e n ing ambitions , for early in the next year he “ gaged the Grand -Theatre Parisiens in the R u e “ C de Lyon , and produced his version of atherine ’ D um s s Blum there . But the play was a failure a secretary , who was nominally the lessee of the

u z z building, turned out to be a rog e and embe led 1 the money, and the scheme came to naught. I n the following year, still clinging to his belief that the sons of his old patrons would inherit the tastes of their fathers , the dramatist appealed to his “ unknown friends the public, to subscribe to a

co- - ea species of operative play house, a new Th tre H ” w istorique, ith an eminent banker for treasurer and himself as the manager . The very slight and

1 Dumas owin h is com an arrears of sa ar met th e si ua i on i n , g p y l y, t t a ch arac eri s i and i n i u w H e a e th e mem e rs co ec i e t t c gen o s ay. g v b ll t v ly th e ri h to a th e i e ce and romi sed h a wh en e er i t was e r g t pl y p , p t t v p ormed Wi h i n re ach of a i h d a f no i e r s e wou e nd i du d . On one f t P , l tt ly t ﬁ occa sion th e au h or mi ssed h i s rai n a nd did not reach th e h e a re t t , t t i h t e second act. Th e audi ence wh o e ore h is arri a h ad een t ll , b f v l b too u roarious and di s rac e d to o ow th e a in sis ed a s soon a p t t f ll pl y, t , s h eir dar in a e are d a nd e ace wa s re s ore d h a th e ac ors sh ou t l g pp p t , t t t ld begin all over again whi ch th ey were obli ged to do 1 20 L I FE A N D W R I TI N G S OF

quite inadequate response to this invitation gave the dramatist another painful shock of self- revela

tion . I n 1 866 the war between Austria and Prussia D broke out , and umas , his love of history and of f travel both urging him , set out for Frank ort, to study the crisis presented by the growi ng power of

u Pr ssia in mid Europe , and to traverse the yet

warm battleﬁelds of the campaign . The result

was La Terreur Prussienne , in which the author,

re domin ﬁlled with disquietude , sees in Prussian p

ance a menace to other nations , and to France

above an. m D Forced to earn oney as best he could , umas

1 868 went down to the Havre Exhibition of , and C R lectured there , and at aen , ouen and other towns , on his way back . Two or three of his plays were revived about this time , but the old spirit of hostility was again shown by the critics , who managed to

now wound the enfeebled playwright . To the last he was ridiculed , abused and slandered . Lamartine , for whom the romancer had always felt a warm

1 86 w admiration , died in 9 , worn out ith the struggle against his debts and his enemies ; and the news D saddened umas , for it gave him a foreboding of his own end . This brilliant and illustrious life was itself draw i n g very near to a close , amidst humiliating

122 L I FE A N D WRI TI NGS OF standing on the pedestal of a monument which d t trembles, as though it were base on shif ing " sands . “ “ Be at peace , answered his son ; the pillar is ” well built , and the base will stand ﬁrm . w The dying father dre his son toward him , and the two met in a silent embrace . I t was the cry of the soul doubting its own genius ; the agony of doubt which sei z ed Keats when he bade them

e write as his epitaph, H ere lies one whose nam ” was writ in water . I n his introd uction to Les Trois M ou squ e taires D l e , umas ﬁ tells this anecdote , and adds, by way of supporting his prophecy , that from 1 8 70 to 1 893 no less than ’ v olumes of his father s books had been sold in

a Fr nce alone, not counting of illus trate d parts .

The dying man doubted everything. The world, he fancied , had not advanced as it had promised to do in the days of the glorious revolutions, politi

- cal and social , of the mid century . Such an age of agitation , he prophesied , would end in an era of disillusionment . And truly for France the out look was dark, for the Prussians had overthrown w Napoleon and ere invading France . I n his early days Dumas had seen the Prussians at the gates of Paris ; in his last days he would have A LEXAND R E D UM A S 1 23

witnessed a like spectacle had he stayed there . But all such news was mercifully kept from him . “ “ One day, wrote his son , the pen dropped from his hands , and he began to sleep . Like his D own Porthos , the child of his virile brain , umas was struggling with all a Titan ’s strength against the forces of nature which weighed upon him and which were slowly crushing and stiﬂing the life from his giant frame and his great heart. All

S night, and almost all the day , he lept ; and if,

e n with his old desire for work, he took p in hand , no responsive thought nerved the ﬁngers ; the weapon with which he had once wrought such wonders fell from his nerveless ﬁngers . Excess of labour, far more than excess of pleasure, had made the brain mute at last . I n his brief moments of light Dumas would ’ play with his son s children , or would sit where

z his nurses placed him on the beach , ga ing,

n motionless , at the sea , thinking long, lo g thoughts . th 1 8 0 On the morning of December s , 7 , a priest was sent for . H e found son and daughter on their

n ma n knees by the side of the dyi g . The good

é and D cur called his penitent by name , umas slowly

. H e opened his eyes . H e could not speak died that afternoon 124 L I FE A ND WR I TI NG S OF

Two years later, when the Prussians had de

parted, Alexandre Dumas was able to take his

- C father home to Villers otterets , where he had

a wished to lie . A host of distinguished uthors e and actors came to bid their old confr re farewell , but the simple reverence and affection shown by the dead man ’s old village friends was a far truer

token of the love that he had won . When the

f the train arrived with the co ﬁn, people were

quietly waiting in the streets to greet it, and young and old pressed forward to contend with the bearers for the honour of carrying the body

of their lost, dear friend . There , with the father

r of whom he was so p oud , with the mother whom he so tenderly loved, he lies, in the little town from which he set out on the pilgrimage of life , and to which he so often looked wistfully back . I n the words of the man whom he reverenced most,

“ ’ ” Af er i e s ﬁtful e er h e s ee s t l f f v , l p well .

126 L I FE AND WR I TI NG S OF

- magniﬁcent constitution , an unclouded self con

ﬁde nce , a kind, generous heart, and brilliant social , “ H cu l e d . er s on dramatic , and literary successes en a nt M D u C f , axime amp called him, adding “ Like a giant who knows his strength and fears to take advantage of it, he was gentle . I have — never seen in him I will not say a S ign of anger but not even a movement of impatience . I f ever

was r a man lovable, in the o iginal sense of the ’ ‘ D word , that is made to be loved , umas was that man . He had so much wit himself that every ” one who was with him believed they had it too .

He seems to have created , as it were , an atmo sphere of espri t which was breathed by all who came within its inﬂuence . ’ R L E coli r oger de Beauvoir, the author of e C ’ de luny , one day visited the great man s rooms in his absence , and was shown into the kitchen W “ instead of the study . ishing to leave his card , ’ - he p icked up his friend s account book, and wrote this quatrain on one of the pages

Sur ce carne D uma s écri t, t, ’ our ar our ou ce u i dé ense J p j , t t q l p , ’ Il n ourrai me re e ense y p t tt , j p ’ ’ ” 1 T out cc qu i l dépense d e sprit M any of the best stories told of Dumas naturally

1 “ In th is book D umas h as writ All th a t h e spends from day to day ’ T wou d ne er h o d I dare to sa l v l , y, ” H is great expenditure of wit 1 A L EXAND RE DUM AS 127

l re ate to the theatre , of which he was such an é habitu , and the drama , of which he was such a “ ” master. Before telling one of the best of these , “

M r . re (says W H . Pollock), it is necessary to C member that Pierre orneille , the great dramatist, had a younger brother named Thomas, who had a considerable talent which was completely over shadowed by the greater genius of his brother . ’ There was also in the height of Du mas s success another playwright—no relation of his—who bore the name of Dumas . This writer produced a play which is forgotten now , but which on the night of its production had enough success to intoxicate f the author with joy. After the curtain had allen, the obscure D umas came into the box of the giaeat Dumas and said

‘ Ah ! after to -night people will talk of the two Dumas as they talk of the two Corneilles H ’m said the great man , looking at him from

e h ad to foot adieu , Thomas The ph rase “ the French Sheridan occurs irre s istibl y to the mind , when one remembers the ’ M aster s wit and improvidence . There is some “ thing very like th e author o f the School for

Scandal about the hero of the following story . One evening at the Theatre Francais Dumas saw one of the audience asleep in his stall during th e representation of a play by Soumet . 1 28 L I FE A N D WR I T I NG S O F

‘ “ ’ con re re See, said the dramatist to his f , that s the effect that your plays produce ! ’ D u ma s s The next day a comedy of was played ,

and the author was present . Suddenly Soumet

’ sh ou lde i' tapped his friend s , and pointed out a n gentleman asleep in the orchestra , sayi g in bitter sweet accents “ You see, my dear friend , that one falls asleep just the same when listening to your prose . ? That W hy that is the gentleman who went ’ ” ! re to sleep yesterday, and hasn t woke up yet torted the other. I n spite of his social rank Dumas was just as much at home in the boulevards , with the gamins , an d the populace , who loved him and whom he loved, as with the wits and peers . H e was walking

Pi fte au one day with his secretary , and looking for

- - ofﬁce . a cab , when a post mail omnibus rolled by “

! . Stop he cried to the driver , give us a lift ’ ” W men l etters ! e re of , too The postman grinned as he whipped up his horses . The mots uttered by Dumas or attributed to him “ tou t a sse tou t were numberless . The saying p , ” l asse tout casse to , , is said have been originated by t him . The witty u terances in his books have all

the ﬂavour , and unexpectedness of spoken jests . Heaven has made but one drama for man—the

1 3 0 L I FE A N D W R I TIN G S O F that his man had booked for him one seat in the coupé and the other inside ! The other story may be entitled the episode of ’ D m ﬁ ’ Colonel Bro s macaw. u as called at that of cer s

- house one day , went into the drawing room to wait, and seeing a yellow re d and blue macaw on its perch , he went up to it familiarly and commenced to scratch its head . The bird , it appeared , was in

v w a vile temper that morning , and ga e the un elcome w visitor a murderous peck . Dumas withdre his

ﬁnger, staunched the blood, and then , returning to the bird , wrung its neck, and quietly put the body out of sight under some of the furniture . Later on w n he left ithout anythi g having been noticed . Some weeks afterwards Dumas dined with Colonel

r Bro , and the conversation turned on natu al history. R eference was made to the habits of elephants, who kneel to say their prayers, and get out of sight to die secretly . “ C ’ As for that last trait, said the olonel s wife, ” it must be common to all animals . Then turning D “ to umas she added , You remember my beautiful blue yellow and red macaw ?

Perfectly. Has some misfortune happened to

! — Alas the poor thing is dead, and would you M believe it , onsieur Dumas , we found it in a corner

- e ? of the drawing room , und r the couch That proves A LEXANDRE DUM AS 1 3 1 that this modesty before death is an instinct common to all animals in creation , and that our domestic

as n parrots have it, just strongly as the ki gs of the forest.

Dumas was duly impressed . m ’ D u as s v . Take , with his gaiety and wit, anity ’ Here is M r Lang s Opinion of the worth of the reproach “ They call Dumas vain : he had reason to be

n vain, and no candid or ge erous reader will be shocked by his pleasant, frank , and artless enjoy ment of himself and of his adventures . Oddly

u - - eno gh , they are small minded and small hearted people who are most shocked by what they call

‘ ’ ’ D u mas s vanity in the great . delight in himself and his doings is only the ﬂower of his vigorou s ‘ M é ’ existence , and in his moires , at least, it is as happy and encouraging as his laugh , or the laugh h of Porthos ; it is a kind of radiance , in w ich

n others , too , may bask and e joy themselves . And

z yet it is resented by tiny scribblers , fro en in their

- o wn chill self conceit. There is an amusing story told of how this vanity

u D was very neatly sn bbed on one occasion . umas

R u was giving evidence in a trial , at o en , and was f asked his pro essi o n . ’ “ ‘ w I should say dramatic author, if I ere not ”

C w . in the city of orneille , he ans ered 1 3 2 L I FE A N D W R ITI N G S OF

’ “ M sie u Oh , , replied the judge , there are degrees . W e cannot resist quoting here h ow D umas took

n R his reve ge on the ouen folk , who it appears “ ” “ had also hissed his plays . One day , he says , a N eapolitan boasted to me of having hissed Rossini ’ ‘ ’ M a n d D . and alibran , the Barbiere esdemona ’ “ ‘ ‘ u That must be tr e, I answered , because R M ossini and alibran boast, on their part, of having been hissed by the Neapolitans . So I boast of being hissed by the Ro ue ne se . The

’ ‘ R o uen people , he added , hiss me because they b IVh ’ ? o ject to me . y shouldn t they They objected to J oan of Arc !

V ille messa nt Vanity, says , was a part of his talent ; just as a balloon cannot rise , until it is “ w D u C ﬁlled ith air . The public, adds amp , are too exacting : they expect a ma n to have n w every talent in the world , and not to k o it .

’ D u mas s artless self-admi ration was made the moral

u of a h ndred malicio us sto ries . I t is said that his “ son remarked of him he is so vain that he would like to get up behind his o wn coach to make

a people think he owned . black footman . W e

S bu t have not traced this peech to its source , we

D i l s w shall not believe that umas f said it, ithout

h w \ r r . the st ongest p oof There is , o e er, a story wh M r . . told by W H Pollock , ich is more pro

1 3 4 L I FE A N D W R I T I NG S OF

incredulous about invisible and inaudible genius . So little gall had D umas in his dispositio n that

—h e he fo u nd ability everywhere praised heartily,

- gladly . H is good nature often led him to fancy that there was talent in people who possessed none .

’ M all eﬁll e I can t make out what lacks , in order ” to be a man of talent, he said one day .

su Perhaps he lacks the talent , some one g gested . By Jove ! That ’s it ! I never thought of that ! answered Dumas ingenuously . With all his failings—and we will admit them in due time—Dumas had one splendid quality which might well outweigh a host of sins heavier than his .

He wa s charity itself. H is was indeed a voice of comfort and an open hand of help . He was like

n e i c tu all r a cornucopia , sheddi g bounty p p y f om his ” D u C outstretched hands , says amp . Half, if w not more , of the money he earned he gave a ay .

Anothe r great writer has told us how Dumas wo u ld w take his ork and sit by the dying, would tend them and help them in their need . H is heart was

O u r u e pen to the s ffe ing, his p rse to the ne dy , his

u ho se to the homeless . I was S ick a nd ye visited ” W e me . can fancy the Preacher of Galilee wo uld have found something in Alexandre D umas which th e s w world never a .

D du One day, when umas and Cha ffault were A LEXAN D R E D UM AS 1 3 5

talking together , a poor I talian was shown in , beg ging for help . The author was, as usual , at the end of his resources , but that did not check his charitable desire . “ “ M ou y friend , he said , I am no richer than y are ; I have nothing, but I can never send away with empty hands a man who is in want . Take down one of those pistols from the mantelpiece go and sell it , and leave me the other for the next poor ” devil that the good G od may send to me for relief. Theodore de Banville tells us in his Souvenirs M how a poor starving devil , ontjoye by name , was w ready to take his life in despair , hen the thought D of umas came to him like an inspiration —from heaven . H e found the great man deserted all — the servants had gone a - holidaying b u t the host

r hur ied into the kitchen , and prepared with his own

t n It hands a feast for the gods, for his stra ger . —is a pleasant picture that the poet sets before u s the

r penniless beggar eating, and making witty rema ks

D u s on the dishes as he attacked them , and ma

w u e beaming with delight and roaring ith la ght r , ’ as he heaped the strange guest s plate with good

things . But the charity which gives money only is not

’ complete in the great apostle s sense , and happily D u mas had his fu ll share of that other and greater M generosity . Of such was his surprise for aquet, 1 3 6 L I FE A N D WR I T IN G S OF

“ on the ﬁrst night of the Trois M ousquetaires . M aquet was the artisan and Dumas the artist of that collaboration , and the henchman had no thou ght of any public acknowledgment of his share

u M élin u e of the work . But at the fall of the c rtain g , “ ' the famous D A rtagna n came forward and named M M essieurs Alexandre Dumas and August aquet.

M u and aq et gave a cry of joy and pride , fell sobbing

’ on his master s neck . The young and ambitious author always found D a kind , genial , helpful friend in umas. One day a novice came to ask the great man a favour. ? W u D o ld he listen to a play in verse umas, w - hose time was golden , nevertheless good naturedly agreed . After the ﬁrst act the great man remarked thoughtlessly “ M y boy , your verses are not very rich in poetry . Not rich the young man exclaimed in dismay , letting the manuscript fall from his hands. D umas , regretting that he had given such pain

u to a beginner , picked p the play and handed it

: back to the youth , saying hurriedly D ’ on t be discouraged by such a little thing, my

1 “ ” Th - e word rich e h ere implies a ce rta in form of line ending in rench e rse b ut for th e ur ose s of thmstor ou r u se o F v , p p y f i t i s as a rO i i ate and more com re h ensi e . pp p , p bl

1 3 8 L I FE A N D W R I T I NG S OF

d V w goo from the point of ie of humanity , and the b rotherhood of art.

H is delicacy was equal to his kind n ess . One day he found an old friend wh o wa s in needy cir ff cu ms tance s o to . , and bore him dinner As they parted the host said casually : “ w —I Thou kno est, old comrade expect thee

- here again to morrow . — The friend came agai n and for ten or twelve

w D u . w years dined ith mas At last , overcome ith remorse at eating the bread he did not earn , the guest declared that he must make some retu rn for

. D his dinners , or he would not come again umas thought a moment . “ You can do me a great service , he said at

G o length . to the Pont Neuf every day at noon , and note the temp e ratu re of the Chevalier ther

mome ter . for me That is very important, in con ne ction with the receipts at the theatre . you ” ? r e oblige me The f iend agreed delight dly, and “ was the situation saved . Both men were happy once more . On another occasion a man entered the master’s D r . oom , begging umas , without waiting to hear w of his particular need , dre ﬁfteen francs from a drawer. I t appeared that the caller was collecting

’ /zu iss ie r f to raise funds to bury a (or sheriff s o ﬁcer . ) ” nu i ssi er ! D u To bury a cried mas , who knew A LEXAND R E D UM AS 1 3 9

“ — those gentry only too well . Here here are — ” another ﬁfteen francs go and bury another ! ’ The many stories which are told of D u mas s shifts to get money , and of his prodigality , are some

n . of them amusing, but most of them u trustworthy

H e himself was conscious of his failing, but was “ W never able to cure himself of it . hen my hand closes on anything it can grip , he said laughing , “ ! anything but money . Ah money is so smooth ,

' t S lips through my ﬁngers ! One evening Dumas promised his theatrical com

oa l mas u e . pany a q , followed by a supper “ ! ” Ah cried a young and pert actress, who will pay ? “ “ ’ P a re/en D S , I shall , answered umas , han t I be disguised

I n later years , when the struggle to keep his

revenue up to his expenditure became very keen , Dumas was almost as great at borrowing as at giving, and showed the same magniﬁcent careless

ness as to the sequel . Frequently he brought his wit to the service of his needs , as , for instance , w D hen Porcher, who had advanced umas money on th e prospects of his ﬁrst play , and always been of

service to the dramatist on similar occasions, begged

the great man to tutoyer him . This form of the

- - second person singular implies , with the French ,

familiarity in frie ndliness . 140 L I FE A N D W R IT I NG S OF

Very good, answered Dumas , amused at ’ i i t/zou Porcher s na ve request. W lt lend me ﬁfty ? ” louis, Porcher “ ” V ill nt was Nothing, says e me ssa , more odious to him than avarice , which was entirely repugnant to his own nature . Leaving a soiré e one evening Dumas found himself side by side in the cloak

an - room with archi millionaire who , in exchange for his pa l etot gave ﬁfty centimes (ﬁvepe nce ) to the servant .

The writer, blushing with shame for the ﬁnancier, drew ou t his purse and threw down a hundred -franc note . ? Pardon , sir , you have made a mistake , I think f e . said the lackey, of ering to return the not ” D No , no, friend , answered umas casting a dis dainful glance at the millionaire ; it is the other

n wh o gentlema has made the mistake . ’ B u t D u mas s extravagance , so far as his own

r pleasure and glo iﬁcation were concerned , has been

u . W e m ch exaggerated have seen , ourselves , that “ M C ” the palace of onte risto was neither so big,

so gaudy , nor so costly as has been represented .

M du C Again , axime amp refutes the charge that

D u u mas lived in l xury at Naples , declaring that l the great man worked there in modest rooms , poor y “ furnished People, he adds , spread false reports ” because slander is the ﬁrst need of fools .

142 L I FE A N D WR I T IN GS OF

I n the matter of morals it is impossible to judge Dumas on general principles and by ordinary

standards, and still more unfair to let British d prej u ice distort our judgment . H is lax code of vi rtu e in this re spect must be considered simply in

own connection with his nature and training .

Except for a brief period , love of women never ’ played the important and disastrous part in D u mas s life which it did in the case of so many of his D M r e . contempora ies , like usset, for example

- Bu H e was too sane minded for that . t his

- ardent , semi tropical temperament felt the over whelming need of femi nine society and the sensu ous charms which fair women possess . H is gallantry , good nature , and artless vanity rendered him a prey to the siren type of womanhood ; although we have ample proof that he cou ld appreciate the higher qualities of the other sex , as witness his honest, friendly admiration for M G d G adame de irar in and eorge Sand , and the “ chivalric way in which (as we see in Une ’ Aventure d A mou r he co u ld treat a young and charming woman wh o tru sted him completely and

u t p herself under the protection of his honour. W e have spoken of the love of Dumas father for D umas son They were , indeed , the complement of f ” each other not like in like , but like in dif erence . I k now of no two ch aracters more opposite than A L EXAND R E DUM AS 1 43

’ d da Alexan re s and mine , said the father one y,

W e and yet they go together excellently . certainly have some very good times when we are far away from each other , but I fancy we are never ” happier than when we are together .

They loved each other madly , and yet lived such different lives that sometimes they entirely lost

e . sight of each oth r At these periods , if the old

D u n mas saw a frie d, he would stop his carriage n w and hold out his hand , aski g for ne s of his son W hat has become of Alexandre ? D o you ever ? m see him For y part I never come across him ,

‘ ’ except to say good - day when I meet him at

u n f erals . On another occasion he added half “ ’ r - bitte ly , half jestingly , Perhaps I shan t meet him again until my own !

‘ The passionate love between Dumas pere and Dumas ﬁls began with the birth of the one and did

z n ot end with the death of the other. Bla e de

u r n e B y tells a pretty anecdote, showi g how d eply

: rooted was this feeling, even in early childhood One day the young Alexandre fell from the top

of the staircase . The accident seemed to be very

: serious the child fainted , and the mother , thinking

him dead , was quite overcome . She sent at once

D u for umas , who was out on g ard , and also for the

doctor, who arrived ﬁrst . The child , however , had

he regained consciousness , but was very pale and 1 44 L I FE A N D WR ITI N G S OF

faint, and when the father saw him in this state he fainted too ! “ re The doctor ordered leeches , but the child sisted strongly . The father implored and besought

G od the boy to obey , vowing before that it should

‘ v not hurt him , to which the child replied, Oh , ery w u t ell then , p them on yourself, and then I will let ’ D them put them on me afterwards . umas con sented and put the leeches in the hollow of his left hand . After the first natural pang of jealousy the elder playwright not only recognised , but acclaimed his ’ 1 ” son s dramatic powers . At the first night of one of the successful plays of D u mas fil s the proud w father wept ith joy and happiness . H e took my

“ ‘ h V ill e me ssant and , writes , saying, H e is my ’ ’ ! D u mas s best work Even wittier was reply , on n a similar occasion , to a frie d who remarked that

was the play was so good , it surprising the father had no share in it . Oh , but I had , said the “ ! veteran dramatist, the author is by me The light - hearted gaiety of the father and the

the son sardonic gravity of , offered a contrast too

s marked to be mi sed by the wits . Alexandre is

1 ’ Th e latter h as left a very ch a rming accou nt of h i s fath e i s a tti tude ” D a me aux Caméh a s H d towards La . e d i not th i nk i t wo uld h i h ui drama i se but ca c n t e ou h wi h th e M S . unde r h is arm t , t g g lty y t t , h e insi s ed on h e arin i t. Th e e l der drama i s ecame i n eres ed t g t t b t t , sor ed mo ed de i h ed enra ured ! ab b , v , l g t , pt

1 46 L I F E A N D WR IT I NG S OF

M ON CH E R N F A N T —E nC0re u n s E , an de plu

’ ’

e u n a t a ime r. que j t aime , encore an de moins

Voilal e cOté triste . M ce ais en attendant, sans calculer qui nous en

- u . 1 reste , aimons no s tant que nous pourrons ’ —A t i . o J anvier ,

D UM A . A . S W e have been led away by seductive paths into a tardy recognition of one of the great facts about — our author his energy . Henley tells us that at times he wrote for sixteen or eighteen hours a day ; and it is quite credible in the case of a physique so magniﬁcently healthy , and a brain so greedy of work . Yet, until his ﬁnal decline , the great writer never suffered from this abnormal devotion to the desk , except in one way .

D z d umas , says Bla e de Bury, woul never rest except when fatigued ; consequently a curious

u phenomenon came pon him . Almost every year a fever sei z ed him for two or three days ; he was not simply ill , he was vanquished . K nowing this,

z he went to bed , and do ed there ; from time to time

u he opened his eyes , and hastily taking p the glass of lemonade which the occasion required , he drank it, and then lay back with his face to the wall , and

r gave himself up to his feve . This was his violent manner of taking rest . The crisis lasted about

D a nd three days , at the end of which umas arose A LEXANDR E DUM A S 1 47

returned to work . The overtaxed organs had insisted upon a halt. M E . dmond About gives an interesting account ’ “ which describes Du ma s s method of working. I “ fi can still see on our hotel table , he says , the rst ’ draft of the Compagnons de J ehu . I t was a thick — pile of school aper , cut in four, and covered with p — a neat little writing an excellent rough sketch drawn up by a skilled assistant accordi ng to the ’ master s original design . Dumas worked at it in — his own manner scattering wit broadcast thro ugh the pages as he wrote , each little slip of white

pasted) on a great sheet of blue . “ I f it can be tr uly said of Dumas that panting ” Time toiled after him in vain , it is just as true that he was ever toiling in the arrears of his own work ever striving to keep pace with the demand for ” —ir copy . To be continued in our next was the ’ slave s warning cry at the classic feast . I n his ’ “ G ris ie r s Du e ] amusing preface to Arms and the , Dumas confesses that there were certain extra ordinary pledges which he could not fulﬁl unless

r forcibly detached from his regular wo k . This pressure on his time , coupled with a dislike of

z i n ridicule, made him , like Bal ac, shun his days uniform , on duty as a National guard , and accord ingly the hours of guard -room imprisonment due

M o n e ou from him mounted up enormously . p the L I FE A N D W R IT ING S OF

composer, struggling vainly to get from the busy writer an opera -comique libretto which our good

natured author had undertaken to do , heard of the D facts of the case . H e learnt, moreover , that umas was dodging his military pursuers by sleeping in

- different houses , entering by side doors , and depart “ ing by windows , as if he wanted to be a fairy , and ” M on e ou own was rehearsing the part . p , for his “ base ends , gave information which led to the

capture of the criminal . (It appeared that Dumas had aggravated his offence by an answer which he

fﬁc r— gave —to a superior o e one of his own trades men who, with more feeling than culture, declared ” that it was very pain ible and terrible for him to be obliged to arrest Dumas ; to wh ich that gentle

’ Do man promptly replied , you think it wouldn t be painful and t e rrifu l to me to M onpeou begged that D umas should have a private room to

work in , and a piano , and when the prisoner arrived to undergo his punishment he found the traitorous musician busy composing the overture to the comic ! opera The result was Piquillo . “ One last touch to complete the picture of Dumas

at work , not forgetting the invariable companion of his labours - the tea of which he drank such

. M r inordinate quantities Albert Vandam , in his “ ” d Englishman in Paris, escribes a call which he D made on his friend umas .

1 5 0 L I FE A N D W E IT IN E S OF

in my memories ; I am like one of those trees , crowned with bushy foliage, which at noon is full of silent birds , that wake up towards the close of the day . Then , when evening has come , they will ﬁll my old age with the beating of W ings and with songs ; with their joy , their loves , and their clamour they will enliven it until death , in its turn , lays its h hand upon their hospitable ome ; and the tree , in falling, frightens away all these merry singers , of f ’ which each is simply an hour of my li e . I t is this man whom most of his critics denounced ! as an idler I n his boyhood , the peasants , with m ore reason and less malice , said the same of him .

H e tells us as much , and overhears in imagination the neighbours shaking their heads over him , mu ttering “ See the idler ; he prefers rambling along the

- high roads to going to college . He will never do anything !

’

I don t know that I have done much , comments “ our author, but I know that I have worked deuced hard since then “ Truly , this work has had no brilliant result ; I I should have done better, believe , instead of piling up volume on volume , if I had bought a corner of land , and put pebble upon pebble , there . At any

s - rate I hould have had a house of my own , to day . Bah ! Have I not the house of the good God A LEXAND R E DUM AS 1 5 1

the ﬁelds , the air, the wide world and nature which are denied to those who do not possess the power of seeing what I see ? ”

u The most striking, most int itive intellectual quality which D umas possessed was what is known “ ” as the drama tic instinct . H e seems from the

ﬁrst to have seen life from the vivid , picturesque point of view . As a lad , ignorant of the stage , and

me n collaborating with much more experienced , his “ cockney sportsman was the successful feature of ’ C e t l A mou r La hasse , the first piece performed in which he had any share . H is method of preparing his plays was interesting and characteristic . W hen I am engaged upon a work which ” occupies all my thoughts , he says, I feel the need of narrating it aloud ; in reciting thus I invent ; and at the end of one or other of these narrations I find some fine morning that the play is completed . But — it often happens that this method o f working that

is to say , not beginning a piece until I have ﬁnished — w the plot is a very slo one . I n this way I kept M ade moiselle de Belle—Isle ’ in my head for nearly ” ﬁve years .

W e may add that ﬁnally the piece was not read, but described to the committee of the Comédie ’ Du mas s Francaise , and at the end of vivid recital ,

acclarnation ! was accepted by The fact was , it was 1 5 2 L IF E A ND W R ITI N G S OF already composed ; it only required to be set on paper. An anecdote told in connection with the drama “ tis e d version of the Trois M ousquetaires shows h ow o thor ughly Dumas knew his public, and trusted his natural critics . “ /s Behind one of the scenes , says Dumas ﬁ ,

we had seen the helmet of a fireman . who listened to the play very attentively during the first six tableaux . I n the middle of the seventh , however, ” the helmet disappeared . ’ ’ Do you see that fire man s he lmet ? asked my father. ’

i t . No , s not there now After the act the author went in search of the ﬁreman (who did not know him) and said W hy are you no longer listening to the piece ? ’ Because that act didn ’t interest me as much as ’ the others . This reply was enough for my father ; he went straight to the ofﬁce of Director Beraud he took off

frockcoat his , his tie, his waistcoat, his braces , opened the collar of his shirt, j ust as he did when he sat down to work at home, and asked for the copy of the seventh tableau . I t was given to him , and he w ” tore it up and thre it into the ﬁre . W ? ’ hat on earth are you doing cried Beraud .

1 5 4 L I F E A N D W R IT IN G S OF

’ ’ away and have a good sleep ; I m tired , I ve done

’ e noughf “ s s H e brought down his thirtieth partridge, ay “ z de h im Bla e Bury , and we saw making his way W towards the farm . hen we returned at ﬁve

’ o clock , he was sitting before the ﬁre in the kitchen, gaz ing at the fl ames and twirling his thumbs .

u Whatever are yo doing there asked his son .

‘ ’ As you see , I am resting. ? ’ Have you had any sleep ! No , impossible There is such an abominable — — ’ uproar in this farm , sheep , cows, labourers, it s

’ ’ impossible to close one s eyes . ’ “ ‘ Then all this time you ve been twirling your thumbs ? ’ ’

t . No, I have wri ten a play in one act As a matter of fact he had just written Romu ’ h e R lus , which amused himself by getting egnier to C é ‘ read at the om die Francaise as being by a young , ’ ” unknown writer . I t was accepted with unanimity. (The version which D umas himself gives in Bric-a ” brac of the origin of this play differs only in u m m ’ important details fro his friend s account . ) The father ’s analysis of the son ’s play “ La Dame aux Camélias shows his knowledge of stage n D craft i a striking light . The elder umas added to his criticism his opinion that the co u rtesan on d whose career the play and book were base , was A L EXAND RE D UM AS 1 5 5

h immoral by heredity . Subsequent researc proved the soundness of this deduction . ’ Du mas s talent was not conﬁned to exertions on

f. z his own behal H ow often , says Bla e de Bury , has he served as the anonymous collaborator of his confreres 1 I have seen him thus deny himself any credit for a score of plays which have been w signed ith other names , but of which he had written

- In D two thirds . one case a friend brought umas a play which had been sent back from a theatre to be cut down , as they considered it too long . The great man read the piece , which was a short one , and told

far his friend that from being too long, it was not long

h ow enough . H e pointed out the theme should be

u - z developed and extended , and made into a f ll si ed

re play . The author followed the advice he had ce iv e d ; and the piece thus remodelled was duly accepted and performed . But “ the dramatic instinct is not without its D disadvantages , as umas has amusingly shown . “ “ At a ﬁrst night , he mourns , I am the worst spectator in the world . I f it is an imaginative piece that is being played , the characters have scarcely ’ appe ared before they are no longer the author s , but

’ entr a cte a mine . I n the ﬁrst I take them ; I p propriate them . I nstead of their unknown future

of the next four acts , I introduce them into four of

1 ’ r Inconnu d A . li See the Theat e by G ne l . 1 5 6 L I FE A N D WR I TI NG S OF m y own composition ; I enter into their characters ,

I utilise their originality. If the interval lasts only

r u ten minutes , it is more than I eq ire to build for them the house of cards in which I instal them , and my own particular paste-board house is scarcely ever ’ t the same as the author s . With his orical pieces it is much worse . I bring my play , of course , built upon the title, and as it is written with all my natural — defects that is to say , with abundance of details, absolute rigidity of characters , and double, triple , — quadruple intrigue it is very seldom that my play resembles in the least the one which is being

is played . This a real trouble to me , although to ” other people it is a source of amusement. ’ The great romancer s frank confession as to his lack of education as a youth has prompted his detractors to pronounce him ignorant . They pre ” tend that the author of Antony wished to destroy

’ the fame of Corneille and Racine ; because D u mas s sentiments toward s the two national poets was a discriminating admiration rather than blind worship . I n reality be admired the highest in literature ;

n and and as a rule instinctively recog ised it , W judiciously proclaimed it. e know him as yield in ing to no Frenchman , not even Hugo , his

for veneration Shakespeare ; Andrew Lang, no ’ Dumas s mean authority, testiﬁes to sound ap preciation of the greatness of H omer ; and this

1 5 8 L I FE A N D WR ITIN G S OF

the literary sphere . On one occasion these ex

b - tremes did meet, being invited y a well meaning

bu t z c friend , the result was not happy . Bal a had spoken contemptuously of his rival in popularity

D u as a nigger , and mas was not disposed to ’ forget it . I t was a Quaker s meeting, for neither guest spoke until they were both leaving. Then al z ac said “ ’ W e hen I am written out, I ll tak to writing ” dramas . And Dumas replied

’ You d better begin at once , then .

. z D And they parted Yet Bal ac saw that umas, G like eorge Sand , had none of the low j ealousy and littlenesses which obscured so many contemporary

D w a talents , and umas , who al ays wrote with p ’ z f preciation of Bal ac s talents , followed his co ﬁn to the grave when the author of Pere Goriot died in 1 8 50.

' ' ’ ééze-nozre D u mas s z A still greater of was Bulo , ’ R evue aes D eux M enzi es the editor of the , for which periodical the “ Isabel de Baviere chroniques were written . The pair had quarrelled over the production of “ Caligula at the Comédie Fran

aise z c , for at that time Bulo was commissary of the national theatre . For some months afterward D “ umas , who was witty even in his dislikes , em ” broidered his correspondence with varying but A LEXAND R E DUM AS 1 5 9

z consistently uncomplimentary references to Bulo .

For instance, he would address a letter “ T O

Havre,

S ixty kilometres from that idiot of a Buloz .

Or again , would begin a letter “ M y D E A R ORCH E R —Y 0u P , , who are in every ”

z . respect superior to that idiot, Bulo ’ There was a third exception to D umas s general ” al l friendly relations with the other powers .

M . This was jules Lecomte, and the circumstances “ of the case are worth recording, as being sig

niﬁca nt . of many things Lecomte , when a young D man , was recommended to umas by a mutual h friend , and the author of course opened his ouse d to the poor and frien less fugitive . I n return for this kindness Lecomte ordered costly clothes, and left his host to pay the bill , sponged on the generous author in various ways , and ﬁnally disgusted him M altogether by masquerading as Alfred de usset, ’ L . e also at his benefactor s expense Further ,

d wa comte, un er a pseudonym , sent to Paris by y of Brussels articles containing references to Dumas and I da Ferrier which were not in the best of taste. t When the grea man was staying in Florence , Lecomte had the impudence to call once more on 160 L I FE A N D WR I T ING S O F

his old host. The authorities had required some par ticul ars n concerni g Lecomte , and he had given them ’ Du mas s name as a reference . The novelist duly furnished the ofﬁcials with such facts about the gentleman in question that he was ordered to leave the city at once . Then the other , foreseeing a public disturbance, armed himself with a stout cane .

The precaution was a wise one . As the ro

o man er was standing by the door of a carriage, chatting with a lady friend , i n a public avenue “ ” da one y, Lecomte, accompanied by a backer, strode up , and without a word of warning struck D at his old patron . umas parried the blow, and cut the rogue across the face with his cane . Then, ’ “ turning to his assailant s second , one Prince

Korsakoff, he declared that he would not cross h swords wit a creature like Lecomte, but would willingly meet the Prince, if he chose to take up ’ his companion s quarrel .

b ut f Korsakoff at once accepted , be ore the duel came about he wrote to Dumas stating that he had h M eard certain truths about . Lecomte, and now refused either to ﬁght for him or to continue his acquaintance . i There are several morals to this ncident, which ’ — have their bearing on Du mas s success and failure

in life .

1 62 L I FE A ND WR I TI NG S O F

Scribe, and H ugo . Towards Scribe his attitude

was one of admiration , mingled with a little good — natured tolerance the smile of the gay grasshopper , as he watched the industrious ant toiling through a ’ hot summer s day to get in his winter stock . The one had talent and amassed a fortune ; the other

z had genius , made half a do en fortunes , and died poon W ith the bulk of his fellow-writers Dumas was

on excellent terms, and numbered amongst his C G friends hateaubriand , Lamartine , Lafayette, eorge

R De M e Sand , ossini , H ugo, usset, Heine , Souli , M e e N odier. W B ranger , erim e , and ith Janin , it “ is true , he engaged in a wordy duel over Les ” 1 M r Demoiselles de St Cyr. Swinburne thinks “ that one of the poems in Toute Ia Lyre was

d u a dressed by H go to his two friends , suggesting

W e reconciliation . have seen that D umas and

a 1 8 janin were on good terms gain in 49 , and at

’ the former s death the latter wrote a little appre ” of f ciation him , full of sincere af ection and admiration .

We have mentioned Victor H ugo, and the friend w ship bet een these two men , so strangely unlike ’ i n D u mas s character , played an important part in

1 “ o nour Th e pa ir e ve n met on th e fi e ld f h o . J ani n wou ld not figh t W i th s words (so th e s tory went) be cause h e k new an i nfallible th ru st ; D umas refused pi stols be cause h e cou ld kill a fly at forty raced paces . So th e foes emb A LEXANDRE DUMA S 1 63

u n life , although the genius of each was quite affected by his admiration and affection for his

‘ con rere f . I t is true that the plays of one suggested i deas to the other , but the inﬂuence went no deeper . Dumas ﬁrst met H ugo about the time of th e pro “ ” —in duction of H enri Trois , a show on the

du us !— Boulevard Temple , he tells and H ugo invited his new acquaintance to attend the private “ M D ” reading of arion elorme. The two young R ” D omantics became instant friends , and umas never wearied of singing the praises of the poet , who on his part, although of a less demonstrative nature, seems to have remained a loyal friend througho u t . ’ We have referred to D umas s eulogy of M arion ” ’ Delorme, and H ugo s noble championship of his comrade, on the occasion when the Legion of H onour was conferred on him and then with

a D drawn . Unfortunately, bitter attack on umas ,

Cassa nac 1 8 written by Granier de g , appeared in 3 3 , ’ against H ugo s wishes , in a j ournal with which the poet was known to be connected . An attempt was made by ill -advised partisans to set the rival dramatists in opposition to each other. I t may have been this which caused the coolness to exist

1 8 -8 between the two friends in 37 , but in the latter M year adame Dumas died, and her sorrowing son forgot the old enmity and invited H ugo to the

’ funeral . This was the poet s reply 1 64 L I FE A N D WR I T IN G S OF

I could have wished a less mo u rnful reason for

u clasping yo r hand once more . You will see me

- to morrow , and with the ﬁrst glance which we ex

a ou w ch nge , y ill know that you did wrong ever to doubt me . “ You were right in counting on me . I t is a

u ret rn to a state of noble trust worthy of you , and f o me .

’ ‘ I t is a matter of history that after the coup d efa t n H ugo we t into exile . The other soon followed his e friend to Brussels , and we hav already spoken of their intimacy during this period . On his return D to Paris , umas proclaimed his admiration for Hugo in the very ﬁrst number of his ﬁl au sgue fa i re — a bold thing to do , when one remembers that the author of “ The H istory of a Crime was “ ” anathema to the soul of Napoleon the Little . The following year our author dedicated his play of “ La Conscience to Hugo as “ a proof of a friendship which has survived exile , and which ” will , I hope , outlive even death . The compli

’ ment is acknowledged in the ﬁfth book of the poet s “ C ontemplations , in which H ugo recalls their

' parting on the quay at Antwerp , and adds

Tu ren ra s dans ton ceuvre é c a a n e i nnom ra e t , l t t , b bl , u i e é oui ssan e h e u reuse ouIe our u i M lt pl bl t , j l t, ’ E t moi dan s l unite smi stre de l a nu i t

When M ademoiselle Au gustine Brohan attacked

1 66 L I FE A ND W R ITI NG S OF man : a Swiss mercenary in the royalist pay shoots a him , and he dies . I t t kes six or eight centuries to colour ’ a cathedral an architect with taste ’ ! wh comes on the scene, and scrapes it Oh , y ’ w doesn t the S iss shoot the architect, or the archi tect scrape the Swiss

I f his enemies had not insisted on the contrary, one would hardly have thought it necessary to claim courage for a man who was in the streets of Paris

u 1 8 0 during the days of J ly 3 , who chose to be out G with aribaldi , and who fought two or three duels m and sent goodness knows how any challenges . As ’ Du mas s a fact , courage was of the best quality . ” o M r I n manho d his earliest impulse , Lang tells

r us, was to rush at dange ; if he had to wait he felt

z his courage oo ing out at the tips of his ﬁngers , like

Bob Acres , but in the moment of peril he was him ” self again . H is bravery greatly resembled that of Henri Quatre in Les Quarante Cinq it was a f ea r ear of f , which overmastered any fear of the event that menaced him .

Once , when serving in the National guard, Dumas was summoned to help to arrest the Chamber of De puties ! H e and another comrade met at the

: doors they waited , but no one joined them . The false alarm appears to have been in the nature of a test , which the author passed successfully . The great man ’s disdain of danger was partly due A LEXAND RE DUM AS 1 6 7

to his superb health and strength . He was truly the son of the general who choked a horse with his knees ; it was veritably the father of Porthos who tackled the leader of a crowd which threatened to ” M D u . C mob . him H e turned round , says haf “ z o n fault, sei ed the biggest , carried him to the parapet of the bridge as if he ’d been a bundle of

’ straw , and cried , Beg my pardon , or I ll throw you into the water ! ’ H is conﬁdence rested also on his perfect familiarity with all kinds of weapons . He fenced admirably , and was an excellent shot , as m beca e an ardent sportsman , for in all the pleasures

’ of D umas s life sport took a commanding place . As a boy we have seen him companion of keepers and poachers ; as a man he loved the chase from the spearing of trout by midnight to the h u nting of wolves . H is travels contain the stories of his own “ exploits : his Causeries tell of the triumphs of others ; everywhere in his books you may read of

[a cﬁasse C some form of ; in one it is harles IX . chasing the boar , in another Ferdinand of Naples

' u eu r breaking up a Cou ncil at the call of his pzg s .

- W hen wearied of desk work , or intent on thinking

D u out a new romance or play , umas wo ld disappear from Paris for a fe w days . H is old friends at Villers - Cotterets would be rejoiced to see their “ you ng friend (he was al ways young to them) k ﬁne n wal in unexpectedly one day , looki g gay and 168 L I FE A ND WR ITI N GS OF

n hearty , and orderi g his dinner even as he shouted a greeting ! Then would follow the jolliest of

- dinner parties, everyone crowding round the table to exchange banter and chaff with the K ing of ” - Paris, who was happy and content to be hail fellow well - met wi th the poorest peasant in Villers

C s otteret . I t has been made a subject of reproach against Dumas—and which of his qualities has not been made use of in that way —that he knew how to cook his hare after he had caught it. This prej udice is n especially strong in Engla d, where the word ’ ou rmet ou rmamz g is confused with g , and popularly “ ” translated to mean glutton . Ordinarily, the writer lived simply, and if he knew how food could best be cooked , if he liked it cooked well instead of badly, f and if he had the skill to cook it himsel , there is u s rely no need to think any the worse of him . H e “ ” was not (f ace Stevenson) a great eater in the sense of eating much ; he boasted of his appetite , it is true , but there is no reason to believe that it was out of proportion to his giant frame and the enor mous amount of work he got through . So much of “ ” our D a glutton , in short, was umas, that when engrossed in his writing he refused to stop to take food ; whatever his servant chose to prepare for him was placed at his elbow, and he ate mechanically as he wrote on and on

1 7 0 L I FE A N D WR I TI NG S O F

M - adem—oiselle de Belle Isle was founded , sold a roﬁts— 00 his share third of the p for 3 francs ,

- W a re D u . to friend , who sold it to mas hen the

v play was written and produced , and pro ed a u s ccess , Brunswick hinted to the author that the sum was not adequate . The other replied

I heartily thank you , my dear friend , for wishing to ha ve your slav e in the good fortune that has just befallen me . I fancy I am more skilful in putting dialogue together than ﬁgures. I left out an ’ ’ ‘ ought in the sum we agreed upon for ‘ your

. 00 piece I t is worth , my dear Brunswick , not 3 , but francs . The description given by Dumas of the last days and the last moments of M arie Dorval is full of

ff . pathos , and most feelingly , una ectedly told The dying actress begged her old friend to see that she ’ u r was not laid in a pa pe s grave , and he promised . H e had only 2 00 francs of his own ; H ugo and

F ll u x 00 M . a o between them supplied another 3 ; “ and the vain few/pea r pawned a cherished

u n decoration to make p the ecessary balance . H e struggled vainly to obtain pardon for M arie C M apelle ( adame Lafarge) , niece of his playmate C ollard , whose crime was one of the tragic mysteries

h ad f of the day . H e better ortune in the case of a

- C hussar named Bruyant , a native of Villers otterets, who was condemned to death for killing a superior A LEXAND RE D UM AS 1 7 1

ﬁ . of cer, in an attempt to desert By energetically attacking ﬁrst his young patron the Duke de

C z D M . G hartres , and then ui ot, umas obtained a commutation of the sentence, for, as he had fore seen , the man proved to be mad , and was ﬁnally taken care of. I n his epilogue to “ Comte H ermann the author pleaded , with much earnestness and good sense , that executions should not be held semi

wa publicly , a y which summons false pride to the heart of the condemned and hardens him to die unrepentant . H e asked that the sentence should

r be car ied out in the prison cell itself, and should be w accomplished , more s iftly and painlessly , by elec tricity. Since the words were written the French ’ have advanced somewhat towards D umas s ideal ; the Americans have realised it to the full . As in

was private life our author a friend of the poor , f ’ the sorrowing and the suf ering, so in the world s history he invariably championed the cause of the “ fallen . I n his stories , says Ferry , he never lost

re — an opportunity of crowning the vanquished , of

u raising p fallen causes , and of asking the pity of posterity for those men who had sacriﬁced them selves for it . Dumas passed through that evolution of the soul

re — — so f quent with thinkers , dogmatism , doubt a nd a new faith , based on reason , and the divine 17 2 LI FE A N D WR I TI NG S O F

a intuition within man . As boy he passed through a period of religious ecstacy ; yet in his yo u th

o f when he was in the depths Byronic gloom , he “ f e s pre aced his play of Antony, as we hav een , with what was intended to be a very wicked in r vocation to the Spirit of E vil , in which he decla ed l he would give up to it his ife, and his soul too, ” ! - if he believed in it Twenty four years later, “ m he wrote to Victor H ugo, I believe in the i ” mortality of the soul . I n the verses which he ’ composed on his mother s death , he shows a passionate piety. All these conflictin—g sentiments were uttered with perfect sincerity they were really felt at the time they were expressed . But his true confession of faith , the conclusions of his ” M é - a . m turer years, is given in the moires H ere, “ after protesting a great respect for holy things , a

God great faith in Providence and a great love for , h e continues “ Never in the course of a somewhat long life e have I f lt, in the most wretched hours of that n ’ life, one mome t of doubt, one instant s despair. I will not dare to say that I am sure of the im

of m s a mortality y soul ; I will simply y, I hope ” for it. At a certain dinner-party given by an opulent banker the company discussed the existenc e of d the Go , over walnuts and wine, and a certain

1 7 4 L I FE A ND WR I T I NG S OF

son f window, chatting with his , when his eye ell

on the gold piece .

A recollection of the past crossed his mind . “ ‘ w ’ Fifty years ago , when I ent to Paris , he ‘ h . W said , I had a louis y have people accused ? me of prodigality I have always kept that louis . See —there it is ! “ And he showed his son the coin, smiling feebly as he did so .

W e may add , by way of appendices, three character-sketches which will supplement the im

n pression given by our o w . They present by way ’ Dumas s of contrast, a view of character, which

is , as it were , focussed and compact . The ﬁrst is a phrenological description given

Dr C - by astle , a professor of that pseudo science, which purports to be a cold—blooded estimate of ’ its s ubject s virtues and vices * Frank in the expression of all that he feels and thinks , he is loath by nature to take any roundabout way of attaini ng his end : his is the

n very opposite of the intrigui g instinct . “ f e i H e is expansive , a f ctionate , and caressing n manner ; and his affection is of that kind which extends itself in all directions, being in fact, the confession of his need for comradeship . This te ndency to make friends of all whom he meets A LEXA NDRE DUMA S 1 7 5 means practically an absence of exclusiveness in f af ection . ff H e has a natural love for the weak, the su er ing, and the young, and by a logical antithesis, a love , too, for the aged . “ H e possesses conﬁdence in himself, and yet needs the approbation of others ; he has a desire to please , coupled with a respect for others . “ a As one may see, such a char cter is subject to a great number of opposing impulses. These contradictory instincts will have an effect on our f writer, a subtle inward ef ect , which is more apparent to Dumas himself than to any of his friends , however well they know him . “ He feels the need of love , of loving and being

: loved this need is elemental in him , and is felt perhaps the more strongly by the sensuous than by the spiritual side of his nature . b r H e is subject to irrita le , ather than to iras

on a cible moments , and capable, rare occ sions, of v iolent and blind passion . Also he is liable to show himself vindictive, or, more often , stubborn , in controversy or quarrel . This obstinacy is prone to seem like vindictiveness, because our subj ect will probably be infuriated by resistance to his desires, although he feels no hatred towards the cau se of his anger. “ There is a tendency towards covetousness , very 1 7 6 L I FE A N D W R ITI NG S OF

slightly indicated , but present. H e is generally inclined to see the best side of everything, and ’ view all things through sou /ea r ae rose spectacles .

H e is p ious by instinct and religious by intelligence, more brave than courageous, and more resolute ” than brave. D The second is a portrait of umas in his thirties,

con rere M . by a f and a contemporary, H ippolyte R omand , who looks upon the author from a more human point of view :

Passionate by temperament, subtle by instinct, and courageous by vanity , he has a good heart and bad j udgment , and is a spendthrift by nature . He ‘ ’ m ‘ is a veritable Antony for love , al ost a Dar

’ ‘ lington for ambition : he never will be a Sen ’ 1 2 tinelli for vengeance . Superstitious when he thinks , religious when he writes, sceptical when he speaks , light even in his most ﬁery passions , his blood is a lava, his thought a spark. H is per sonalit y is as illogical as it is possible to conceive, and the most unmusical that we know ; he is a liar in his capacity as poet ; generous , because he

1 Th e ch arac er in Ch ris ine wh o im e ed ri a e h a e i s t t , p ll by p v t t , k ll ’ M onalde sch i ueen Chri s ine s order. , by Q t 2 “ ” Piftea u e s u s h a Dumas h ad a e ie in th e e i e e and a t ll t t b l f v l y , oo d i s ru s of monks as h ar in e rs of r ted t t b g e vil . Vandam te ll s us th at “ ” a h ou h far rom e i n su e i sti t i ous th e roman r lt g f b g p , cer p oph e sied th a t i u s Lo a on es wou d ri n i l - th e notor o l M t l b g l luck to all wh o Jomed th eir des inie s to h ers and the a er career of h a cour esan r t , ft t t t p oved h im to h be rig t .

1 7 8 L I FE A N D W RITING S OF

blood , that she moulded him of whom you were

R u born , and who, soldier and general of the ep blic, strangled a horse between his legs , broke a helmet with his teeth , and , alone , defended the bridge of Brixen against a vanguard of twenty men ! Rome would have bestowed the honours of a triumph

: upon him and made him consul France, calmer and more economical , shut the doors of the college upon his son . That son , growing to manhood in — ’ the wide forests in th e ope n air and under the — blue heavens urged on by want and by his genius , fl ung himself, one ﬁne day , into the great city , and marched into literature by the breach he made , as his father marched into the camp of the enemy . “ Then commenced that cyclopean work which lasted for forty years . Tragedy , dramas , history,

o u romance , comedy, travel , y cast all of them in

u the furnace and the mould of yo r brain , and you peopled the world of ﬁction with ne w creations .

The newspaper , the book , the theatre , burst asunder, too narrow for your puissant sho u lders ; you fed w France, Europe, America , with your orks ; you made the wealth of publishers, translators , plagi a rists ; printers and copyists toiled after you in vain . I n the fever of production you did not always try to prove the metal you employed , and sometimes you tossed into the furnace whatever came to you r hand . The ﬁre made the selection what was your own is A L EXANDR E DUM AS 1 7 9 b z h ron e , what was not yours vanis ed in smoke. You have turned out some bad work thus ; but on r h m the othe and , how any amongst those who would have remained obscure have been lightened and warmed at the forge of your genius ; and if the w hour of restoration sounded , how immensely ould

ou y gain , simply by taking back what you have

ou ! given , and what has been taken from y Sometimes you placed your heavy hammer upon

r your g eat anvil , and rested on the threshold of

n the glittering grotto , your sleeves tur ed back ,

. W l your chest open to the air ith smi ing face , you w z iped your forehead ; you ga ed at the calm stars ,

o r breathing the freshness of the night , perhaps you rushed off upon the ﬁrst path you met , hailing your freedom as a prisoner would ; you crossed C the ocean , you climbed the aucasians , you scaled —it ! Etna was always something colossal Then , your lungs ﬁlled anew , you returned to your cave . Seeing you r big shadow outlined in black against the glowing hearth , the mob clapped their hands ; for at heart they love fertility in work , elegance in strength , simplicity in genius , and you have — fertility , simplicity , elegance and generosity, which

I had forgotten , but which has made you a million aire for others and poor for yourself. — Then one day there came a change indiffer

z n ence , ingratitude , sei ed the crowd , whom till ow 1 80 A L EXAND R E D UM AS

ou y had swayed and dominated . They went else

where , wishing to see something fresh ; you had

whis given them too much . You even heard it

‘ ’ pered, I declare the son has far more talent .

bu t You well might laugh at that , you did not ;

you were merely proud of me, like some ordinary

father , and perhaps you thought that they were

right . You would have given me all your glory , j ust as you used to give me all your money when

I was an idle boy . Let others of my time claim

: to be your equals as they do not bear your name , that is their own affair ; but I wish those who come

after me to know, when they shall see our two names one above the other on the scroll of this

century, that whatever people may say , I have

t never felt you other han my father , my friend ,

and my teacher ; and that , thanks to you , I have w never become conceited , al ays considering myself ” a mere pigmy by the side of you . R eading this ﬁlial tribute , in which the regret for the father ’s lost popularity seems to be sin ’ ce rely greater than the writer s o wn pleasure in his success , one may well agree with H ugo , when he wrote to the younger Dumas on the death of his father “ That soul was capable of all the miracles , even

that of bequeathing itself, even of surviving itself. ” Your father lives in you .

H I S W R I T I N G S

“ U PPOSE S , wrote Victor Hugo , that in place of the romance of narrative , and the romance epis tol ar y, a creative brain produced the romance dramatic , wherein the action should unfold itself in a series of faithful and varied pictures , just as the events of real life occur ; which should know no other division than that which the changi ng — scenes demanded which should be , in short , a

n h lo g drama , in w ich the description supplies the scenery and the costumes ? Dumas was destined to realise this ideal much more extensively and closely than H ugo himself.

H e possessed , in the first place , the constructive , dramatic skill ; he only needed the impetus . H e found it in the love of history ; but it was needfu l that he should first find the historians who would reconcile him to the task . “ W hat France is looking for , is the historical ” Lassa ne D novel , said g to umas once , in the early ’ r days of the w iter s career . But the history of France is so dull and tedious ! answered the ignorant young dramatist dogmatically . 1 84 L I FE A N D WR I T I NG S O F

I ndeed—how do you know that ? ’ I ve been told so . ! R Poor boy ead it yourself, ﬁrst, and then ’ u yo ll change your mind . D ’ umas took his friend s advice , and read Thierry , and a high ambition possessed him . “ One day , he tells us, Lamartine asked me to what I attributed the success of his H istoire ’ des Girondins . “ ‘ To the fact that you raised history to the ’

t. . heigh of the romance, I replied “ D ” “ I n umas , says Swinburne , the novelist and the dramatist were thoroughly at one . We are told , and can well believe, that when the immense success of “ Les Trois M ousquetaires called for a dramatised version of the book, little more than scissors and paste , some skill in selection , and a change of form , were needed to turn the romance into a “ . e t sa play On the other hand , H enri Trois Cour and “ La Tour de Nesle read like cape

- and sword romances in stage dress . W e know that in Dumas a desire to write fiction had -always l u rked behind the lust for theatrical fame . About the time that his first vaudeville was performed , the first book , a little collection of short stories , appeared . These , as we have said , were “ C 1 8 2 6 the Nouvelles ontemporaines of , after “ ’ wards included in the So uvenirs d A nto ny of

ALEXAND R E D UM AS 1 85

’ was D uma s 1 8 . s 3 5 As this ﬁrst book , and is now a great rarity, we may give it a little attention . “ The ﬁrst of these stories , he tells us , was

‘ ’ ‘ entitled Laurette , the second Blanche de Beau ’ lieu , and the name of the third I have utterly ’ afte fwards forgotten . Blanche de Beaulieu I ‘ R R ’ utilised in writing La ose ouge , and the third n (the one of which I cannot remember the ame), I subsequently reconstructed into ‘ Le Cocher de ’ Cabriolet . We may add that the third story “ ” M the was named arie , and that book was dedi ’ — ca te d to the author s mother in Homage love ” — u gratitude . Of the fo r (or six) copies sold , R G one is now in the possession of obert arnett,

E s - q , and the title page is here reproduced with his p ermission . “ Of the three (later the ﬁve) stories , Blanche ” de Beaulieu was the most striking. I t is note worthy that in this sombre but powerful little G D ’ story eneral umas , the author s father, appears , though in its ﬁrst form he was alluded to without “ C C ” being named . Le ocher de abriolet (after wards destined to form the basis of the author’s

a drama of is a pretty story, of kind differing strongly from the terrible poignancy of “ ” Um mas u e its companion , bal q , which is in the “ true Antony vein . This last, indeed , is the 1 86 L I FE AND WR IT I N G S OF sole excuse for connecting these stories with the famous play, as it is supposed to be told by that

n Byronic personage himself. The remai ing story,

C e t C herubino elestini , appeared as one of “ C - e t-u n 1 8 the ent Nouvelles in 3 3 , under the “ ” “ title of Les Enfants de la M adone ( The o Foundlings The main incidents contained in “ this nouvelle were told to Sir W alter Scott as

s local history , when he vi ited Naples shortly before “ ” “ i n u he died , and are given his J o rnal as The ” z ve rs iﬁe d Death of Bi arro . Tennyson it from that source in “ The Bandit ’s W ife ” H ow cleverly

in the theme has been elaborated , and how its te re st has been heightened , by the skill of the

Frenchman , may be seen by those who will com ’ “ pare the outline in Scott s journal with Cheru bino e t Celestini . The novelist in Dumas lay dormant for nine — years his period of dramatic triumphs . Then , ’ an acquaintance with Scott s novels , and an intro duction to history picturesquely told , in the shape ’ of Barante s H istoire des Ducs de Bourgoyne combined to excite his imagination , and gave di rection to the ambitions called forth by Thierry . I n his fine preface to “ I sabel de Baviere he faces the diffic ulties and exults over the glories of the career which he foresees for himself : “ One of the most magnificent privileges of the

1 88 L I FE AND W R ITING S OF

only way to steer clear of both these mistakes ’ will be , then , immediately one has chosen one s

historical epoch , to study thoroughly the interests which moved the three classes of society —the

o —at people , the nobility and r yalty that time ; to choose from among the principal personages of those classes such as took an active part in the events to be comprised in the narrative ; and to

u enquire min tely concerning their appearance, char

acter and temperament, so that, whilst making them

live , speak, and act in this triple unity , one may

show the development in these historical types , of the passions which brought about those catastrophes which are recorded in the pages of the century by dates and facts and in which one can only interest ’ one s public by showing them the actual li ving manner in which the same deeds were added to ” history .

’ Such was D u mas s view of the romance in the e C days of I sabel de Bavi re , and La omtesse de

Salisbury . W e have already explained how the “ ’ r D former ch onique came to be written . umas f selected the most ef ective portions of Barante , and v iviﬁ d e them . H e was destined in the future to make a brilliant success by the way in which he painted romance on a foundation of history ; but on “ M r this occasion , as Saintsbury pithily puts it , the ” canvas shows through . There is a want of coher A LEXAN DR E D UM A S 1 89

: ence in the book it is absorbingly interesting, but “ C it is neither romance nor history . La omtesse

1 8 de Salisbury , published four years later , in 39 , is less readable . An admirable opening chapter is succeeded by long tracts of history , and only at f brief intervals do th e characters take li e . This is the more to be regretted , as the episode of Edward

’ ’ I II s f . guilty passion for his vassal s wi e was a

- e x e ri subject of which , in after years , our more p e nce d r autho , emancipated from history, would probably have made much . The preface , which treats of the inﬂuence of Scott on the author and

- his fellow romancers in France , is by far the most valuable part of the book .

Absorbed in travel and the drama , once again

' our romancer neglected the historical me/zer. “ in Pauline , a powerful little novel , some ﬁrst “ dications of which appeared in his Impressions ” 1 8 8 de Voyage en Suisse , was published in 3 , “ u and was m ch praised ; and Pascal Bruno , an M episode of the days of urat , was also suggested ’ by the author s travels in Italy , and was coupled with “ Pauline ” in a volume entitled “ La Salle

’ ” d A rmes . D “ C When umas produced his drama of aligula, he said to himself, to study the corpse it is best to ” visit the tomb. He therefore went to Italy , and also “ ” read up the epoch , and the result was a romance IOO ' S L I FE A N D \V R. IT IN G OF

“ as . A cté a s u e well as a drama , which p blish d

1 8 a E s e in 39 , is not tr nslated into ngli h , but in som “ o respects it is a most notable bo k . Scott could

d re a e never have written the ﬁrst two hun d p g s , says Parigot truly ; Renan would not hav e b e e n

D u mas t a asha med of th e m . Every step that kes — ' his foot rests on a document N e ro s e ntry into the

o f b e e n city over the its walls , which had

the e s the a e s at levelled in his honour, sup p r , g m

c G w the the ircus , the letters from aul hich interrupt — spectacle the whol e s to ry is taken fro m authentic

' t n s f a nd de a sources , not forget i g Nero lig ht , his th ’

l la ncus . a i a e at the house of And with wh t g c , with what im agin ative fa cility is this p ro dig i o u s e poch

ti v e o re e e ! conjured p, li ing and breathing, b f our y s

T o o f u s o n e o e these marvels ill i , gath red t g ther by the D a s re a f a nd artist in um with g t ef ort skill , he

th e v s o h is adds ivid illu i n of own story . I t is a pity that such e xcellent work should in the end d r ag its e lf to de ath in plagi a ri s m and prolixity ’ bu t th e fact w as that D u mas s moth e r di e d whilst the

be n e a cc o u n s book was i g writt n , and this probably t for the f ac t that the novel vari e s so markedly

E h is in merit . ither the writer , absorbed in

e e e r to o s sorrow, l ft som oth author ﬁnish it , or he l t

e n re s s e interest in the romance , and b i g as usual p d ’ “ u se o f C e M for time , made hat aubriand s artyrs

a e o f s r o to supply the pl c his vanished in pi ati n .

1 92 L I FE A N D WR I TI NG S OF

n E glish . Of these perhaps the most noteworthy is ” M i l e C a tre Adam , alabrais , which is unknown to many of the admirers of the romancer , even to those who pursue him in the huge list of Calmann D e . c L vy Ac ording to his witty epilogue , umas ﬁrst heard the story from the lips of a peasant at M ugnano but the intimate knowledge of Calabrian

a nd life , customs , superstitions displayed suggests the ’

D umas s . assistance of Fiorentino, I talian assistant

The result is an admirable story, told in most humorous fashion . ’ M i d A rme s The a tre , the second book of this “ M r trio, Saintsbury has pronounced very poor f f. stu Yet it was translated by a peer of the realm,

W e and has been issued also for the use of schools . fancy that on this occasion our author is to be taken more literally than usual in his explanation of the ’ D story s origin . umas supplied an introductory ’ page to his friend G ris ier s journal of a visit to St

re Petersburg, and possibly selected passages and “ wrote them . The public are warned that nothing D of what follows is mine , writes umas , not even the title . That is plain enough , and the internal evi dence proves it. The story of the exiling of a Russian noble for complicity in the plot of 1 8 2 and of the devotion of the mistress who followed him to far Siberia , forms only a minor portion of

’ “ ms h e su e c of okai s romance Th e Gr n B Th e o or t ee oo . pl t f bj t J , k ALEXAN D RE DUM AS 1 93

D the book , and is not developed , as umas would have fo u nd himself forced to develop anything of his own . I t may be added , that during his travels

Ru 1 8 8 i n ssia in 5 , our author was introduced to the hero and heroine of the adventure . The book had the honour of being forbidden in Russia The remaining work of this year was Le Capi ” tai ne Pamphile, which narrates the adventures of a C sort of nautical rusoe in northern America . I t should appeal particularly to children , for whom it

di re s was written , and if the entertaining g sions respecting the author ’s pets be forgiven or skipped , the rest of the book will be found capital D reading . The note of humour in umas , which M i ” appears ﬁrst in this book and in a tre Adam , is not too frequently present in his later works . Yet it is rather gaiety than any other quality which pervades the only attempt at story-telling

D 1 1 1 8 2 made by umas during 84 and 4. I t may be remembered that he was busy writing his three ea comedies for the Th tre Francais at this time , ” and also his I mpressions de Voyage in the sou th

M ars e ill e s D u ma M . s of France and editerranean At , and his friend M ery enjoyed an experience which w u a . each tilised in his own y H ayward , in his essay on our author, says , One of the most amus ing stories composed by Dumas is La Chasse au C ’ hastre , in which he dep icts the trials and perils 1 94 LI FE A N D W R I T I N G S OF

of mu s ic into which a worthy professor is hurried , by ” - G u the reckless p u rs u it of a ﬁe ld fare . a tier in one

c/za st re adve n of his books refers to that , whose ” D u w tures mas has told so vivaciously and ittily . The two au thors heard the story from the lips of “ u n u M the fortunate m sician himself, and de ire court ’s assertion that Dumas stole the tale from M ery is disproved by that writer in the preface to

own his version . “ ’ “ Le Chateau d E ppste in or Albine was the

1 8 1 outcome of a social gathering at Florence in 4 , and was told to Dumas and the company by one ’ u ou r u of the g ests . That is a thor s explanation his commentators declare Albine to be a story R of the hineland (title and author not given) .

u — J acq ot sans Oreilles not , one is disappointed M “ M —w . as to ﬁnd , a pillorying of de irecourt “ similarly s u pplied to D umas by an ofﬁcer whose acqu aintance he made during his R ussian travels

1 L de ric in 858 . The Aventures de y which

1 8 2 appeared in 4 , is the story of Siegfried , made W familiar to the public by agner. W e now enter upon the most important period of ’ e r our author s career as a writ of romance . Up to this time he has possessed some very praiseworthy

u — ideals , but has failed to devote m ch care except , “ e ” — perhaps , in the case of Act to the realisation

W e him of them . have seen displaying wit and

LIFE A N D W R I T I N G S OF tual alliance to which the world owes the most bril liant romances of the century . “ The episode of The good-man Buvat will be remembered by readers of this romance (known also “ as The Consp irators I t is a clever p iece of

- character drawing, but has only a slight connection w Ce ll e mare ith the main plot . The conspiracy has provided the principal theme . ’ D u mas s This is one of the best of stories , and is not yet fully appreciated . Thackeray refers to it “ ” r admiringly in his Roundabou t Papers and M . Saintsbury commends it as the most perfect of its ’ — autho r s novels in form for unhapp ily D umas was w not al ays particular about unity and completeness .

w u The contrast bet een the witty, vol ptuous society R n of the egency and the fresh , innoce t life of C Bathilde , is admirable in taste and effect . aptain R oqu e ﬁne tt e is the ﬁrst (off the stage) of the ad venturers who occupy such a large place in D u

’ mas s gallery of portraits . H e dies ﬁnely , too , as — wh o do his comrades come after him Porthos , ’ “ D A rta na n M -R M M g , aison ouge , La ole , organ ,

e . Banni re , and the rest

du Re e nt C Une Fille g , a sequel to the heva ” two lier, was published or three years later by the same collaborators . I t contains one entertaining C episode (treating of the ellamare conspirators , and their life in the Bastille) ; b u t it is the plot of ALEXAN D R E DUM AS 1 97

’ D H n l arme th a . again , with judicious variations W orse still , there is a gloomy note of fatalism

w . throughout the hole story Nevertheless , Une

du Re e nt w Fille g is ell worth reading, if only for ’ D u R the study of bois , the egent s minister, which ’ shows D u ma s s talent for intrigue at its best . “ G 1 8 eorges , which also dates from 43 , is a “ ” M u story of auriti s , or the I le de France , and is probably the work of our author in combination ’ w with some prentice who kne the colony . This

M all e ﬁll e w may or may not have been , to hom the w w credit of the hole ork has charitably been given .

wh o But the hero , suffers social ostracism for the w black blood in his veins ; the hero , who allo s nothing to stand between himself and his desires ” D u - — in short , mas Antony , betrays his origin

W u w unmistakably . ith the str ggle bet een the French and E nglish for that tropical paradise the w novelist has inter oven a revolt of the slaves , told

r with great dramatic force and truth , and a love sto y . “ Ce R ch i e ﬂ i nte r cile , or La obe de Noce , is y f ’ esting as af ording a ﬁrst glimpse , in the author s R w writings , of the days of evolution , after ards to be

f u turned to such fu ll and ef ective acco nt . So popu lar was this pathetic story that two p irated editions were issued in Belgium in the course of a fe w Ce months cile dates from the great year,

1 8 44, as does Fernande , which has been claimed 1 98 LI F E A N D W R I T I N G S OF

M w o n. by . H ippolyte Auger as at least half his ’ I t is impossible to test the tru th of that author s

assertions at this remote date , so that the degree of blame—if any—which can attach to Dumas cannot

we now be measured , but we may add that believe w ’ the story is not the great riter s . Amaury was

D u also published about this time , and mas gives an account of its origin in which he disavows the

authorship but it may or may not be genuine , for

m s t iﬁca tio n he always delighted in this form of y .

M r I t is probably true that M . Paul eurice w ote the

’ D u story with umas , for the style is not our a thor s .

He has told us , however, that it was suggested by

D e v i ol aine the case of his friend Felix , who was

wh o b u t consumptive , and , happily , recovered ’ M D A v ri n u in the story adeleine g y is not c red , and so faithful and poignant was the de scrip ’ M tion of the malady s progress that one . N oailles , w hose daughter was also suffering from the disease , appealed to the author to su spend the serial publica ” M tion of Amaury , if adeleine was meant to die .

' T h ef e zz zl l efou was therefore suspended until after the ’ - D poor girl s death , and the kind hearted umas went so fa r as to improvise in manuscript a miraculous recovery and happy fate for the poor heroine , for the

especial beneﬁt of the doomed girl and her husband . ’ One of the best of D u mas s minor romances is

S l va ndire that of y , at one time known in England

200 L I FE A N D W R I T I N G S OF

That boy would almost seem to have been the C young astelar, the great Spanish orator, statesman , and author, for he has written of the famous story in manner quite as fervent I can never forget the impression left upon my mind by the reading of that book . The characters

- are life like , and stand out in such high relief, that

I seemed to see them , to speak to them , to dis tin u ish g their features and manners , and even to compare them with real persons among my acquaint

a nce s . r So absorbing was my interest in the sto y , that I watched for each new n u mber with feverish impatience , to read the end of these adventures , as if they were intimately connected with some one beloved , with my former friends , with my nearest

own relations , with my soul . That exciting narrative that ﬂashing style those characters , so boldly described ; those scenes , so marvellously woven together that ever-increasing interest in the — story all this worked upon my imagination , and by the magic of art the ﬁctitious world was changed w into the orld of truth and poetry , and became as real as society or as nature . “ I s there any man wh o has not read The Three M usketeers ” ? I t has become one of the world ’s ’ M e D u mas s books . As ry , fast friend , jestingly put it , If th ere exists a second R obinson Crusoe in any part of the world at this moment , be sure that the A LEXAND R E D UM A S 201 exile is whiling away his solitude reading ‘ Les M ’ Trois ousquetaires , under the shade of his parrot ” feathered umbrella . D I n his preface to the romance, umas has con fessed the chief source of his inspiration - Courtils ’ ’ ” S andraz s Mé D A rta nan de moires de g , which in

- ﬁction turn was probably more than half , although , t of course, a soldier of tha name lived , fought, “

e . sinn d , and died in those times I think I like

’ ‘ ’ D A rta nan M é g in his own moires best, wrote

M r Thackeray . Lang does not agree with him , nor, if we may add our testimony, do we . To read the “ M émoires ” and then the romance is to undergo

M s a revelation . ingled with this ordid story of

- - D closet intrigue and kitchen amours , umas , with his keen scent for the picturesque , found excellent material for a splendid story ; and his admirable n taste is shown not only in what has bee utilised, but in what has been omitted . O nly one question able incident has been employed, and that because it has an important bearing on the plot of the “ romance and its sequel . I t has passed through

u Du a medi m , as mas himself declared, of natural ” delicacy and good taste . These chapters about

M M a K itty and iladi , S ir H erbert xwell reminds “ ’ ” in R D A rta nan us, his article on The eal g , did ’ not escape their author s criticism . I t is told that Dumas in after-life expressed 202 L I FE A N D WR ITI NGS O F bitter regret that the said episode had not been n omitted, with the rest of like ature ; and there is G evidence given by M . E . de oncourt of how greatly Dumas differed in taste on these matters

m M G u fro less scrupulous French writers. . de onco rt tells us that he once heard Victor Hugo declare

ﬁlchin that, had he not been above g from other

authors , he must have yielded to the temptation

’ ‘ et de l u i domzer to appropriate the story of Ketty, ’ ’ ‘ ’ ‘ e me d a r u u or t. f Think , exclaimed H ugo , of

’‘ deu ozemeu t the marvellously human , far finer than ' ’ 1 any deu ozi meu t of the utmost realism ! I t is not difficult to imagine to what luxuriance these d materials might have blossomed , under the flori

touch of Victor H ugo . M D . Parigot recommends students of umas to make the comparison between the romance and “ ” M é d h ow the moires, and ju ge for themselves the man of imagination has gloriﬁed the material “ D D he worked on . umas borrowed , but umas ” selected , he adds . We may supplement this opinion with a short D comparison of our own . Brieﬂy, umas owes

’ ﬁrst, the facts of the hero s l ife, so far as they concern history . All these are m retained , and the fa ous character goes through the

1 Th i s i nciden i s not to b e ound as th e reader wi in e r i n t f , ll f , ’ D umas s romance.

204 L I F E A N D WR ITI NG S OF

’ ’ D A rta nan s describing the intrigue , g rivalry with “ ” D e W f ardes, his subterfuges , and af air with the chambermaid , are mostly fact but strange to D say, umas entirely ignored the real beginning of D ’ ’ A rta nan s . this, g greatest passion

The story is interesting. The musketeer had just returned from England (where he had fought with C harles at the battle of Newbury) , when he was sent for by the exiled Queen , and questioned con

- cerning his visit . The too candid youth declared , w “ in the course of the intervie , that he would as soon live with bears as with the English and this ’ so deeply provoked one of the Q ueen s maids - o f ’ s D A rta na n w honour, that she ent g , after the for ard

a fashion of the time , an invitation to p y court to her .

The soldier readily responded , and fell straightway W w in love . hen , ho ever, he at length avowed his M m passion , iladi coolly infor ed him that she had acted thus in order to punish him for his abuse

r of her countrymen , and p oceeded to mock him pitilessly . The story of his revenge is told by

D w du e umas , to hose imagination , however, is ’ ' eu r-ae- Zzs the incident of the ﬂ , and all the tragic s equel ma b These detailed comparisons y, perhaps, e

u more interestingly summed p in a few words .

From the loose , casual jottings of a soldier , telling of his amours , his campaigns , and the politics of his A LEXA ND R E DUMA S 205

D day, umas extracted , by some wonderful mental process , a stirring and dramatic story , full of incident and character . Of the spiteful wanton M iladi he made a powerful and tragic ﬁgure ; and the three names

Athos, Porthos , and Aramis , in his hands, assumed individualities and became immortal . The whole ’ plot concerning the Queen s studs , the sad story of C onstance Bonacieux , the tragedy of Fenton and Buckingham—all these were either devised in the ’

French novelist s fertile brain , or skilfully introduced by him into the framework provided for him by the M é moires . After the ﬁrst six chapters (of which

u - w w the dialog e , wit , and character dra ing were holly

own D his ), umas launched out for himself, and the plot begins .

Our author, too , makes use in this and subsequent M ’ “ romances , of adame de la Fayette s H istoire

’ ’ d H e nrie tte d A n l e te rre g , and also of the court n chroniques of the time , omitti g to avail himself of their most scandalous passages . H e borrows from ’ ’ La Porte s memoirs the incident of Bonacie u x s abduction ; he ﬁnds the faint ou tline of his episode G of the Bastion St ervais , in an account of a scene

M r at the siege o f Casal in 1 6 30 . To aquet p obably belo ngs the credit of discovering these picturesqu e incidents ; to Dumas the glory of giving them

. colour , shape , and life on his great canvas — “ Of the othe r sou rce o f informat ion ﬂ th e M émoires 206 L I FE AND WR IT I N G S O F

M l . e C e de omte de la F re , nothing can be said here , W D for a very excellent reason . hen umas had the audacity to ask at the Bibliothequ e Royale for that “ book , the librarian retorted , You know that it

’ u doesn t exist, beca se you yourself have said it ! ’ does I ndeed , the good man s sharpness was “ natural ; since the publication of the M ou squ e ” ta ire s he had been appealed to perpetually for the book , by readers eager for more M r Saintsbury complains that there is no central M idea in Les Trois ousquetaires, and indeed there C are at least two mai n plots . Professor arpenter even analyses the story into

A series of smaller tales (they are more like plays) , each a hundred pages or so in length . I n Les M Trois ousquetaires the main problem is this ,

How can four adventurers , by their combined force ,

T/ze Ca rdi na l outwit and all his powers , temporal

? V z I and spiritual i . ( ) H ow can a friendless and awkward but dashing young Gascon become in three days the talk of Paris and a sworn companion of the best three blades in the city ? (2 ) The ’ Queen s honour is at stake ; how can this band of brothers fetch her j ewels from ' England in time ?

’ ' (3 ) D A rtag u a u is fascinated by M zl ady : how can his reckless passion be turned to hate and fear ?

' M zl ad (4) y, with good reason, is determined on ’ ’ ’ D A rm u uu s [fir/rel i ef; B ueh u /zam s g death , on g as

208 L I FE A N D WR I T I N G S O F

M e sl er B l ack A rrow ou , and the , y may be sure, and I should think my life not lost for mankind if half a doz en more of my volumes must be thrown

i n . D h n . umas himself s ared this feeli g The great, strong, vain hero was a child after his own heart. n One afternoon his son , seeing him looki g careworn , wretched , overwhelmed , asked him , What has happened to you Are you ill ? ” No . ? Well , what is it then

I am miserable . ? Why

— os ! This morning, I killed Porthos poor Porth m Oh what trouble I have had , to make up y mind to do it ! But there must be an end to all things .

Yet when I saw him sink beneath the ruins , crying ’ ‘ It ! is too heavy , too heavy for me I swear to you ” that I cried . And he wiped away a tear with the sleev e of his

- dressing gown . We have glided insensibly into “ Vingt Ans

e Bra e lonne Apr s and the Vicomte de g , for it is ’ the D A rtagnan of this last of the series whom

Stevenson has so eloquently proclaimed as his hero . “ ’ ” In his essay On a Romance of D u mas s in “ M ” w emories and Portraits , he rites of him thus ’ D A rta nan I t is in the character of g , that we

21 0 L I FE A N D WR I T I NG S OF

One secret of the charm of the four musketeers is perhaps to be found in the fact that they stand for types of the great national characteristics . Says Parigot “ ’ D A rta nan G g , the adroit ascon , caressing his moustache ; Porthos , the muscular and foolish ; Athos , ’ ‘ the somewhat romantic grand seigneur , Aramis , — who pinches his ear to make it red , Aramis , the discreet Aramis , who hides his religion and his — amours , able pupil of the good fathers these four

r C friends , and not four brothe s as ourtils imagined ,

u typify the four cardinal qualities of our co ntry . I f Danton and Napoleon were the prototypes of

‘ D M ou s u e French energy , umas , in Les Trois q ’ taire s r is its national histo ian . H is romance is

r quite as d amatic as theirs , but more pleasant, and

u with a more contin ous charm . The origin of the two sequels has already been D / . s partly indicated I t is said that umas ﬁ , frightened at the thought of the prodigious task

u which the rash a thor set himself, asked his father “ M I n spite of the help of adame de La Fayette , who furnishes you with the name and ﬁrst- love of ’ A thos s how ou u son , will y manage to keep p the interest through these innumerable volumes ? ” “ ” “ Oh , well , answered his father, all that happened to Athos will happen over again to his son . A LEXANDR E DUMAS 21 1

But (not for the ﬁrst time) Dumas did himself an injustice . One has no feeling of repetition about “ l nn Bra e o e . g I f it is , as some critics assert, full ” of improbabilities , it is yet very faithful to the chronicles of the court “ Those who rage about “ - M . the far fetched incidents , writes Parigot , with which these romances of Dumas are simply crammed , make us smile . Have they never read the history written by M adame de La Fayette ? ’ ? And Gu ich e i n the chimney And the women spies ? And the caskets of M alicorne ? And the plots of de Wardes

r The T ilogy of the Four is , after all , one great — prose epic on friendship the love of man for man . C Professor arpenter has seen this clearly , and expressed it well So far as I am concerned there is no more w poignant scene in literature than that in hich ,

who after twenty years of separation , the four — once were but a single will and a single force hence, — dauntless and invincible fo u nd in the gloom of battle their swords clash on those of their peers , and realised that they were arrayed against each ’ other. How paltry beside this seem lovers quarrels ! And yet there is nothing of the mock ’ heroic in Du mas s treatment of the famous friend f . o ship These were men clay , prone to vice and error, redeemed only by their sense of the sacred 21 2 L I FE A N D WR IT IN GS OF

e ness of the strongest human tie, sav that of ” family. The same writer also notices with what un conscious skill the characters of the musketeers are developed “ ’ t rs set These men grow, not of the au ho f n a purpose, in the ordinary ashion , accordi g to

f . rule of logic, but as men grow in li e, naturally H e (Dumas) could not have planned it ; at th e w A t/zos proper time he simply kne it. The , the ’ P ortﬁos A ra mis D A rta na u , the , and the g of Le Vicomte de Bragel onne are not those of Les M ’ ‘ Trois ousquetaires , or even of Vingt Ans ’

e . it Apr s But the author does not inform us of ,

as except in a single case , and then he is evidently surprised as we are . They grow, and if they are

w - honest men they gro better, on stepping stones of their own baser selves . These novels show more than the growth of man . They represent the slow development of a race and nation. Like G M D ibbon or ichelet, umas had a genius for C history . France under harles I X . and H enry

I I I . , France under Louis XI V . , France in the

R —h e evolution knew them , and felt them to the core. H is chronology may be weak and his facts faulty , the young doctor of p hilosophy may ﬁnd

ﬂaws in every chapter, but the great laws he

e are . follows , so far as I can see the typ s sound

. 214 L I FE A ND WR I T INGS OF

e nd n a draws e r and is welcome . To read this well is n n to a ticipate experience . Ah , if only, whe these hours of the long shadows fall for us in reality and not f m in ﬁgure, we may hope to ace the with a m ” ind as quiet . f his e One day, about two years be ore d ath, ’ Damas s son found him with a book. “ ? ” What are you reading he asked . M ’ Les Trois ousquetaires . I always promised m yself that I would read it when I was an old man , ” so that I might be able to judge of its merit . ? ” Well, what do you think of it

I t is good .

Some days later the same thing occurred again , only this time it was another of his own books M C ” onte risto . ? What do you think of it asked the son once

more . ’ Pah I t isn t as good as the

e M C Nev rtheless onte risto, published in the M same year as the ousquetaires, rivalled , and still

1 It is in eres in to no e h a h ere was announced in th t t g t t t t , e " “ ” ous ue aire I 8 a romance Le aréch a erran in M q t 5 , M l F t, 4 “ ’ ” o s a se ue to th e D A rta nan C c e. W e now h a in h os v l ., q l g y l k t t t e days it was a frequent practice to announce books before th e y were M b e wor h no Wh wou not such an S . w if wri en. a d it cou d b tt t l t , l e “ discovered ? The so-called Stori es by Dumas Monte Crist o ” — and h i s Wi e and Th e Son of or h os are of course or erie f , P t , , f g s ’ m n - e s au h orise di and ﬁnd no place in Cal a n L vy t d e tion. ALEXAND RE DUM AS 21 5

rivals the other in popularity . The two romances were in point of fact written with great rapidity . ’ Charles Re ade s comment on the fact is amusing ; “ This phenomenon astounded costive writers ,

old and set them uttering, by way of solution , wives ’ fables that turned the wonder into an im possibility . The account the authors themselves (Dumas and M aquet) gave was the only credible one . These works were flung off by even col l abora tion of two most inventive and rapid writers . Some of the work was written in almost less time than a single hand could have transcribed it. I ’ fish e rman s believe they still show at Trouville, in a cottage , the chamber and table where the pair wrote the first four volumes of M onte Cristo ’ in sixteen

According to the amiable Q uérard (inspired by the equally kindly de M ireco urt M onte Cristo

iore ntino was written , the ﬁrst half by F , the second “ by M aquet . I t was so simple to believe I was

r the autho , that they never even thought of it , says

Du mas banteringly. H e has given us his own account of the genesis of the book , in his “ W e h w Causeries . know already o the story got its “ local habitation and its name and the evolution of the plot is no less interesting. Towards 1 843 Dumas had agreed with a ﬁrm of publishers to supply them with eight volumes of 21 6 L IFE A ND W R I TING S O F

Impressions de Voyage through Paris , the idea being a perambulatory tour of the city from barrier

archmolo ical to barrier, anecdotic, historic, g and above all , picturesque . But Sue had just written

M s his y teries of Paris, and the publishers , anxious to imitate the success of that book, modiﬁed their idea and demanded a story in which Paris should D be the background merely. umas bethought him

e of an an cdote, twenty pages long, from the Police ” devoilée Pe uch et e t of , entitled , La Diamant La ” Vengeance , of which he had made a mental note .

’ The story itself he declares was tou t szmpl emeut idi ot , but it contained the germ of an idea. The ﬁrst outline of the book was no more than — n R this that a very rich nobleman , livi g in ome , C M C and called the ount of onte risto , should

render a great service to a young French traveller,

and should beg him, when that gentleman desires C ’ to repay the kindness, to act as the ount s guide

when he, in his turn , should visit Paris . Vengeance M C had inspired this thought, and when onte risto ” did the French capital he—was to discover enemies who were hidden there his enemies , who had condemned him in his youth to ten years of

captivity . H is fortune was to furnish the Count

with the means of revenge .

this oint D M At p umas acquainted aquet (who ,

e as we know, was his literary partner at the tim )

21 8 L I FE A ND W R I T I NGS OF

M ’ C M de ’ show you orel s house on the ours , erce s C D e house at the atalans , and the dungeons of ant s ’I W and Faria at the Chatea u D f. hen brought out ‘ M onte Cristo ’ at the Theatre H istorique I wrote M w C D ’If to arseilles for a dra ing of the hateau , which they sent me I wanted it for the scene painter . The artist to whom I had written not only sent me the sketch , but he did more than I had ventured to ask of him ; he wrote u nderneath

‘ ’ : w C D If it Vie of the hateau , on the side from ’ which Dantes was ﬂung. I have heard since that w C a worthy fello , a guide attached to the hateau ’ D If ﬁsh - é , sells pens of bones made by the Abb ” Faria himself.

One anecdote among many , will illustrate the fascination which this book possesses for its readers . Tue A ca demy not so long ago quoted a n amusing passage from a speech made by Lord Salisbury M at a literary gathering . The Prime inister

u humoro sly told how once at Sandringham , he was

- r surprised by his host, at half past four one mo ning, “ ” n M C readi g his favourite book onte risto . The prince wished to know the name of the book which had dragged the Premier from his bed at such an hour . Three weeks after he confessed to his guest that the same romance had l u red him from his bed that morning half- an-hour earlier still

‘ “ M M r h a s th e e onte says Lang , b st A LEXANDR E DUM AS 2 1 9

— h beginning and loses itself in the sands . T ere is a good deal of truth in this : some of us believe ’ that D umas s reputation suffers rather than gains by being so prominently associated with a romance ,

M r parts of which are undeniably dull . Saintsbury

z - declares the second part to be too Bal ac like .

But even admitting this , admitting also that the omnipresent count is not altogether the perfect gentleman his creator seems to have thought him ; and that his appearances and disappearances

- are ultra theatrical at times yet , there is a grandeur of conception about “ M onte Cristo ” which more than redeems it from these drawbacks . I t is

’ D u mas s M iserable s a nd , the lesson it teaches “ — Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord is taught f so ef ectively , so honestly , and on so great a scale , that the book has a moral val u e which should preserve it from oblivion for generations to come . “ Ascanio ” is variously said to date from this year or the previous one . I t was suggested ’ b Ce llini s y Benvenuto autobiography, wherein one or two of the most improbable incidents of the story are to be found , notably the employ ment of the head of the sculptor’s gigantic statue

- d as a hiding place . The reader is intro uced to

I. Francois , the monarch of Pavia, and the D intrigues of his court , which as usual with umas are cleverly manipulated to attract and absorb the 220 L I FE AND WR ITIN GS OF

reader . I t should be added that our author in his “ Causeries tells of a ﬂattering and unexpected sequel to this book . I t so inspired a poor potter of Bourg-en~b re sse with an ambition to emulate f its hero, that he studied and worked until rom M e artisan h e develop ed into an artist. euric is said to have been the collaborator in this instance . “ Gabriel Lambert ” is the last chief product of D this extraordinary year. umas professes that this

a nd h e story is true, that has met and spoken “ G ” with the chief personages . abriel Lambert “ R D ff recalls ichard arlington , with a di erence , for this novel is less a story of unscrupulous ambition , w than a study of co ardice , made with a touch of that poignant realism which has since become so popular . The “ forties proved the most brilliant and most

D 1 8 productive period of umas the novelist . I n 45, the year following his great double triumph, the author produced (in addition to “ Une Fille Ré e ” de gent and Vingt Ans Apr s, already “ R M ” “ G mentioned) La eine argot . La uerre des

réres C Femmes (or Nanon and Les F orses . First of the Valois romances as was La Reine M ” argot, we must not forget that the success of ” et sa C Henri Trois our many years before, had

given the author a love for this historical period . The fatal passion of St M egrim is repeated in the

222 L I FE AND WR IT I N G S OF his “ Letters to Dead Authors notes this judicious quality in our author. I n these romances , he says, “ D how e apostrophising umas , easy it would hav

ou been for y to burn incense to that great goddess ,

Lubricity, whom our critic says your people worship .

Branté me T alle mant You had , you had , you had

R z for etif, and a do en others , to furnish materials scenes of voluptuousness and of blood that would

’ u a l u r l z have outdone even present a stes. From ‘ D G ’ these alcoves of Les ames alantes , from the

M Z v torture chambers ( . ola would not ha e spared us one starting sinew of brave La M ole on the rack) you turned, as Scott would have turned , without a thought of their proﬁtable literary uses . You had other metal to work on : you gave us M ’ that superstitious and tragical true love of La ole s , — — that devotion how tender and h ow pure of Bussy

D de M for the ame ontsoreau . You gave us the

’ D A rta na n valour of g , the strength of Porthos , the

: C melancholy nobility of Athos Honour, hivalry, ” and Friendship. G La uerre des Femmes , a story of the “ Fronde , and therefore contemporary with Vingt e " Ans Apr s , is easily recognised as another of the M romances in which aquet had his share . Pro bably it owes its position in the second class to its sad , its fatalistic atmosphere . But La Guerre des

: Femmes has many merits it develops rapidly, ALEXANDR E DUM AS 223

and C Canoll e s neatly , to its end , avagnac and , like

M Coconnas La ole and , are worthy of a place not

u - - - far below those famo s friends to the death , the M usketeers . ’ D u mas s admiration for the historical plays of Shakespeare was chieﬂy owing to the skill with which the dramatist fused history into ﬁction and

ﬁction into history , so that only the most expert eye could tell where the one ended and the other began . “ e C The little novel , Les Fr res orses , possesses

u this virtue . I t is obviously , as its a thor asserts, the result of his travels in Corsica ; but it is equally certain that the supernatural element is beyond the credible and actual . Althou gh the story forms a strikingly dramatic episode it hardly possesses the merits to which its popularity in England would

n D u seem to e title it . umas himself, tho gh much given to staging his novels , never made a play of “ e C ” 1 ff the Fr res orses , but two or three di erent versions were played simultaneously in London , and the craz e gave rise to various burlesqu es on the theme . ’ 1 8 6 D u mas s I n the following year, 4, publishers issued a remarkable advertisement respecting our

w M r z w adva nc author , hich Fit gerald asserts ( ithout ing proof) to be written by the novelist himself. ’ “ I t offers the public D umas s works in a new shape

1 S e A e ppendix C. 224 L I FE A N D W R I TIN G S OF and at a uniformly low price It proclaims the author as still young and in wonderfully good health and declares that his unceasing ﬂow of invention and esp rit will in all probability add forty volumes a year to his already large library .

There seemed , indeed, every prospect that this extraordinary pledge would be fulﬁlled . The next fe w years brought their quota of lengthy and m ore f “ C or less amous romances , and Le hevalier de ” M R 1 aison ouge dates from 846 . This epilogue to the series of novels dealing with the French Revolution was in reality the ﬁrst to

' ra zsou (f i l m appear. The of the book , which is fti ll of revolutionary spirit , is easily explained in this instance , for France was beginning to feel the throes of that political upheaval , which was destined two years later to result in the Second R epublic .

M z . Bla e de Bury tells an anecdote respecting

s torv this , which explains the rapidity with which our author worked “ Dumas asserted that the actual writing of a — book or a play was nothing to him the conception ,

form , arrangement, and development of the theme , f . comprised all the di ﬁculties These once settled ,

‘ ’ the hand could go forward by itself. One day

' some one avowed the very opposite . T h e ro ma n ‘ M R ’ cist , who was preparing aison ouge at this

226 L I FE A N D WR I T I N G S OF

” M R n aison ouge is the second Valois roma ce , “ which appeared the same year La Dame de ” M onsore au E , commonly known in ngland as “ C ” D hicot the J ester . umas had already made

’ D A mbo ise u ou acquaintance with Bussy , the n ’ D u e d A l n on in of the e e in the old chroniclers , “ ” trodu ce d him into Henri Trois , and utilised the s A n u etil tory of his assassination , as given in q , for

den u the o meu t of his tragedy . But in history the lady was on th e side of the husband ; our story f weaver turned her af ections in the other direction , and the romance became at once sympathetic and moving . (A writer has taken the trouble to com pile a book on the “ historical inaccuracies of this D romance . umas knew quite well when it was wise to reconvey the spirit of the age , and ignore

C fe w the form . ) ritics have agreed that there are ﬁner historical portraits in ﬁction than that o f

Henri I I I . , the effeminate , superstitious king, de voted to luxury and the most trivial pleasures . C R G The sardonic hicot, the abelaisian monk oren

ﬂot , the chivalrous and devoted Bussy , are three ’ D u mas s - splendid additions to picture gallery . For the truth or untruth of detail in these stories it is

M e probably only fair to praise or blame aquet . W learn that a descendant of St Luc (one of the mi nor characters of the book) took umbrage at

u the description of that courtier , and bro ght an A LEX ANDRE DUM AS 227

t action , to prove hat his ancestor was not one of

’ H enri s mignons . The trial showed the collabo rators ! to be right, even in this triﬂing respect The closing scene of the book—the death of — Bussy draws this warm tribute from M r Lang : “ I know four good ﬁghts of one against a multit u de . These are the Death of G re tir the

D G Lith e nd Strong , the eath of unnar of , the D W D eath of Hereward the ake , and the eath of D ’A mb ” Bussy oise . “ “ a M u e Le B tard de a l on , or The Half ’ w Brothers , was written , as we kno by a passage e a in the H istoire de mes B tes , in the ch teau M C D M of onte risto , by umas and aquet ; and the dog M outon a new recruit for the menagerie of “ the palace, was woven into the story by his master. The scene on this occasion is laid in

i n Du G u e sclin Spain , the days of and the Black P rince ; and those interested in comparing the ’ methods of ro mancis ts should read D r Doyle s “ W C hite ompany, which is of the same period , and into which many of the same characters are

’ u F roi s sart s introd ced . chronicles formed the base

’ D umas s e M e for story , and even Ag nor de aul on himself is to be found in the pages of the old chronicler . I n spite of some purple passages , — ' however M r Saintsbury instances D u G u e sclin s C negotiations with the Free ompanies, and the 228 L I FE AND WR IT I NG S OF

— D o n battle of N ajara this story of the days of f Pedro the Cruel has not the best qualities o its author , for which , perhaps, we may blame the

n uérard unco genial time and place . Q states that ’ the end is wholly M aqu et s . “ D D There remains for 1 846 Les eux iane, w m D a hich , if a certain letter fro umas be not

M . th e M . forgery , was entirely work of Paul eurice “ I t is probable , however, that the plot is the ’ ” ’ D umas s master s . The style is certainly not , being entirely sentimental , and the romance is said

ature lle to have been suggested by Une Fille N , by one Félix Davin . Our readers will remember that in the autumn M of this year Dumas departed hurriedly for adrid , M accompanied , it is true , by aquet, but bent upon pleasure -seeking and the pursuit of material for “ further I mpressions de Voyage . J oseph Bal samo ” (“ The M emoirs of a which was appearing serially , suddenly suspended pub l ication G , leaving young ilbert, the hero , lying senseless in the road whilst his thoughtless creator “ l did Spain and A geria . The unfortunate youth remained in this inconvenient position until D umas

su s n restored him to life on his return . This pe sion of consciousness s uggests the magnetic trances of which o u r author so frequently makes use in “ ” - a- this story . H e has told us (in Bric Brac )

23 0 L I FE A N D W R I TI N G S O F

a tte ntionﬂ th e closing chapters are dull ; but , on the whole , Balsamo contains some of his best work .

1 8 -C I n 47 came Les Quarante inq , the sequel “ to La Dame de M onsore au . I t tells chieﬂy of that lady ’s revenge upon the treacherous

’ ’ D A le n o n D A n ou a e (now j ) , who has c used the death of her beloved Bussy . The part of the book in which Chicot goes on an embassy to

H enri Quatre is excellent , but the last volume b e is unsatisfactory . This year , it remembered , f was a stormy one in public af airs , and disastrous to Dumas personally . H e dictated the last chapters to his son , being probably ill in bed . “ Q Notwithstanding this blemish , the uarante Cinq ” was a favourite with one of our author ’s

firm —G M e st admirers eorge Sand . . Victor Borie has told us that he chanced to visit the famous novelist just before her death , and found the romance lying on her table . H e expressed his wonder that she was reading it for the first time . “ “ For the first time , she exclaimed , why , this is the fifth or sixth time I have read Les Q uarante ’

C . W a m inq , and the others hen I ill , anxious,

u melancholy , tired , disco raged , nothing helps me against moral or physical troubles like a book of

’ ” ma s D u s . A LEXANDR E DUM A S 23 1

During the next two years—troublous ones for — our novelist the rate of production slackened. ” W Bra e lonne ith the very notable exception of g ,

u im and some historical st dies, the chief work of “ ” portance in 1 849 was Le Collier de la Reine ( “ The Queen ’s a continuation of the

- - history in romance of the Louis XVI . period . So C much has been written by arlyle , by Funck

Brentano and others , about this famous episode in M the career of arie Antoinette, that there is no D need to describe it here . umas (still with the v aluable assistance of M aquet) tells the story of that extraordinary scandal in his own fashion , carry w “ ” ing for ard , as he does so , the other motifs

- mentioned already . The comparative non success of this book is probably due to the fact that history “ M -e t- u n left so little to the imagination . Les ille

F a nt0me s , said by some to have been written “ with Paul Bocage, by others with Bibliophile

Jacob , appeared this year . It is in great part a gru esome debate as to whether a severed head can speak, or retains knowledge of itself after parting from the body , and dwells on other similar matters , — “ being, in short , a book calculated to make your

ﬂesh creep . “ Of a very different nature was La Tulipe ”

1 8 0 . as Noire , which appeared in 5 This book M d w modest as a story by iss E ge orth , Thackeray 23 2 L I FE AND WR I TI NG S OF declared enthusiastically—has recently been issued

’ as D u mas s contribution to the series of translations “ ” C R . known —as a entury of French omance T—he s ubject or at least the historical part of it is said to have been suggested to D umas by the K ing of H olland . (The novelist visited Amsterdam in 1 849 to be present at the wedding of the Prince of Orange , who had recently ascended the throne, and with whom he had a corresponding acquaint ance . ) The tale , as Flotow used to relate it , is as follows . When the author of “ M onte Cristo was ﬁrst presented to the king at Amsterdam , the royal host said M . Dumas, you have written many brilliant stories dealing with distinguished Frenchmen ; have you not fo u nd any D utchmen worthy of your con sideration “ M e had to m Your ajesty , I hav not time ake the necessary researches . “ ! Oh you need not trouble about that, replied

n the king, whose own life and courtship had ti ges “ of romance , I will tell you a story . And so the

1 6 2 1 6 king related the incidents of 7 and 7 3 , of D e W m the murder of the itts, and the imprison ent — of Cornelius Van Baerle all upon wicked and shamefully wrong charges . At the end of the de D scription , umas exclaimed ,

23 4 L I FE A N D WR I TI NG S OF

N ’ Tulipe oire . He was also vastly amused with ’ D u mas s

The tale, which purports to have been conﬁded

D Olifu s to umas by himself, is too strange not to have had some such origin . As we read it , it is told with as much reticence as the exigencies of the story and the promptings of humour allow but the “ adventures of the seaman with his sea - wife too closely resemble the style of the narratives of “ The “ ” Arabian Nights or Boccaccio , to recommend themselves to a prudish translator. For his next story Dumas went to German w history, and chose the time hen the patriotic ” secret society of the T uge ndbu nd was conspiring to assassi nate Napoleon and to throw off the French w ’ yoke . Probably ith the help of a prentice who “ w G D u kne his ermany , mas wrote Le Trou de ’ l E nfe r , a powerful , poignant story, of how a young ‘ ’ “ cz l a R Antony living, Schiller s obber , a life

u u sufﬁcient nto himself, strove successf lly to possess

e a young goath rdess, and the wife of his best

w - friend , for hom he had conceived a self willed

D M r passion . ieu dispose , which Swinburne considers to possess great merit, was written in

Brussels in i 8 5 2 . I t tells of the retribution which gradually overtakes the seducer , and the reader follows the sure thou gh tortuous course of N emesis with the interest which Dumas himself rarely fails A LEXANDR E D UM AS 23 5

8 w . R 1 0 to arouse and re ard The evolution of 3 , and the secret “ freemasonry agitations connected therewith , are touched upon ; but the dramatic effect of the story is borrowed from the author’s “ own C play of omte Hermann , produced three

W e years before . have indicated the sources of the ’ ’ story s strength ; its weakness lies in a husband s

- non recognition of his wife , after years of separation .

au C La Femme ollier de Velours , which also

1 8 1 wa u dates from 5 , contains by y of introd ction an ’ Du mas s interesting account of literary patron ,

di r C N o e . harles , and the society at the Arsenal w The tale itself, hich purports to have been told

N odie r to the narrator by the dying , and of which “ ” C u Hoffmann , the author of ontes Fantastiq es , is G the hero , is as weird as any story by the erman

Poe . I ncidentally it introduces the guillotining of M D adame ubarry the mistress of Louis XV . , and ’ presents a realistic picture of life in Paris in 93 . This story is associated by Calma nn- Levy with —“ another essay into the supernatural Le Testa ”

M . C ment de hauvelin That noble , who was ’ u X V s é w historically one of Lo is . rou s , makes a ill w w for the protection of his ife and children , hich he neglects to sign . H e dies suddenly , but is seen to return to his chateau , and the will is found , duly completed . Powerful as the story is , its chief value

a lies in the introduction , which gives us glimpse 23 6 L I FE A N D WR I T IN G S OF

’ s and in i of the writer youth, the full and viv d description of the last days of Louis Quinz e . One of the books of Dumas which is destined to become more appreciated in the future than it has “ ” is de C e been in the past, Olympe l ves, which

' re dates from 1 85 2 . I t was written before he M tired to Brussels, and aquet is credited with a share in the work . We, for our part , believe that the extent of that writer’s connection with this story — — begins if it begins at all and ends with the dis ’ cove ry of Le ma z urie r s biographies of the French the e actors, from which career of Banni re is taken , and with the preparation of the historical material re e ctin p g the debauching of the young king, Louis

Quinz e . The charm of the story lies for once in the characters of the lovable hero and heroine , and

s the the unhistorical part of book , describing the life of a strolling company of French actors , in the early eighteenth century. We s hould like to echo

M r . h E . w o the sentiments of W H enley , proclaims

Olympe de Cleves a masterpiece . Probably most readers of “ Ange Pitou (also known as “ Taking the Bastille published in

1 8 53 , will have noticed that the story ends abruptly — that , in fact , it cannot be said to end at all . An M f anecdote told by . Parigot of ers an explanation of M this . One day, it appears , aquet, reader and ex lore r p of the obscure , burst in upon Dumas with an

23 8 L I FE A N D WR I TI N G S OF care to compare the early chapters of “ Ange Pitou with the ﬁrst volumes of the M émoires will ﬁnd that the hero and his author possess many interesting points of resemblance and dissimilarity .

H ere , so far as we can trace , ended the connec tion between Dumas and his best collaborator. It has been said that without M aquet our author was helpless . I t is tr ue that he was at his best with

’ that admirable prentice ; but it is none the less true D that both before and after him , umas wrote books which none but he could have produced , whilst M aquet never achieved anything like the same degree of merit or success under his own name .

D 1 8 1 - D uring his exile in Brussels ( 5 3) umas, as e G he tells us in the preface to P re igogne , was far ’ ” from idle . H e instances Conscience l Innoce nt “ ’ “ ” “ L E nfant C C (or La omtesse de harny , Le ’ ” “ ” “ d A shbou rn La u ede m C n Pasteur , Isaac q , atheri e “ M é ” Blum , and a portion of his moires as the ’ “ t wo w result of years ork , and adds it will one day be a so u rce of trouble for my biographers to dis cover the ‘ anonymous collaborators ’ who have written those books ! ” I t was about this time that the novelist turned

- - from the romance of cap and sword , and devoted fl - himself chie y to semi pastoral stories , to tales of contemporary , and often humble , life . I n the open “ C ing passages of onscience he dwells on this . A LEXAN D R E D UM AS 23 9

As one gets on in life , he writes, and , losing m sight of the cradle , draws nigh to the tomb , it see s as if the invisible ties which bind one to one ’s birthplace grow stronger and more irresistible . ’ A man s life i s div ided into two distinct parts : the ﬁrst thirty -ﬁve years are for hope ; the second

-ﬁ ve . thirty , for memory That is why , instead of always breaking fresh ground in literary work ,

u re cons lting solely the caprices of my fancy, the

of t sources my imagina ion , ever seeking new

- of characters and conceiving new, unheard situa tions, I return at times , at least in thought , to that beaten track, my childhood , retracing those days to their earliest hours , looking back along the path

s e e I have trodden , back until I my little feet as

’ they kept pace with my dearly loved mother s which have traversed life side by side with mine

O from the day when my eyes ﬁrst pened , to the day when hers closed for ever . “ W e D have seen how umas made use , in Ange

Pitou , of his recollections of childhood . The pre pa ration of the M é moires probably further s timu lated him to utilise his recollections of life at Villers “ ” C - otterets , as a milieu for these semi pastoral stories .

r Therefo e , when he read a little story by H endrik

C n ve n onscience , the Flemish o list, called Le Co ” “ a scrit, in which a young pe sant is drawn for the war , is blinded in action , is brought home by his 240 L I FE AND W R I T I N G S O F

sweetheart, and is ﬁnally restored to sight , Dumas “ saw in this novelette (as he tells us in Bri e - a ” brac ) the outline of a story after his own heart. C H e wrote to onscience, asking permission to use this story as a basis , and this the ﬂattered author i n readily granted . I n order to acknowledge his de bte dness publicly D umas gave the name of C onscience to the hero of his own story, which is a considerable elaboration on the original . Our author changed the locale to

-C Villers otterets, introduced his boyish recollections

’ of Napoleon s flying visits to that village , indulged in a little contemporary history , made the love of the peasant for the land a powerful factor in the story, created Bastien , one of the leading characters , and gave to the new Conscrit ” many times the length and strength of the original . ” C 1 8 atherine Blum , published in 54, had a similar origin. I t is said to have been suggested ’ ” Iffland s G by ardes Forestiers, but its charm lies in the description of the people and atmosphere of —C Villers otterets , and in the simple art with which i t is told . There is a pleasant portrait of Abbé G e ’ r goire, one of the boy Alexandre s preceptors . ’ M r Swinburne tells us that amongst Du mas s minor works he admires chie fly this pair of pastoral pic

‘ ” “ , ﬁC C tures onscience and atherine Blum , and we believe that if they were known to the E nglish

242 L I FE A N D W R IT IN G S O F

’ D u ma s s countess herself, who develops into one of

- . most life like heroines , is not very engrossing W e regret to ﬁnd that in some English tra nsla “ C C tions the epilogue to La omtesse de harny , in which Ange Pitou and Catherine are satisfactorily brought together , is omitted .

In this cycle of revolutionary romance , which begins with the M émoires du M éde cm and ends “ C M o R with Le hevalier de ais n ouge, there are several unsatisfactory gaps . The reader will ﬁnd a consecutive and vivid panorama of the events of

1 2 1 1 th e 79 , 7 93 , and 7 94, from battles of Valmy R “ and J emappes to the fall of obespierre , in Le “ Docteur M yste rie ux and La Fille du M arquis . ’ These volumes bear evident traces of D umas s hand , touching as they do upon the restoration of “ w ” reason to the imbecile, the use of magnetic po er, and the sense of life after death, in the case of a guillotined head (see Le M ille -e t-u ne F a ntOme s

r The e is an interesting thread of ﬁction , and a translation of scenes from “ Romeo and J uliet

Chi nch oll e may attract the curious . tells us that

1 86 when he visited the author in 9 , he was com

l e tin p g the dictation of these volumes , which were

- not published in book form until after his death . Ever since Dumas tells us in one of his “ I m frequent bursts of conﬁdence , have had in y

‘ ’ u mind the outline of a J if errant , to which I shall A LEXAND R E DUM AS 243

devote myself at the ﬁrst leisure moment I get, and

o f which will be—one my best books . I ndeed , I have only one fear that I may die without having written ” i t .

’ l a uteur ro e l o os censeu r dis ose. I n this case, p p , p

Parigot is facetious, but misleading, when he writes ’ D n La u e de m h umas, in commenci g I saac q , t ought ’ to write the romance of the world s history . H e soon f ” stopped , as there did not seem su ﬁcient material . The story was interdicted by the censor of the

Second Empire, probably as profane . I t promised, ’ says Henley, to fulﬁl its author s pledge , and be one of his best romances . M . de Bury devotes con s ide rabl e D space to it in his study of umas . I t was, “ : in truth , a gigantic task to undertake Isaac ” La qu e de m was telling us the story of the early days of the world and of the Bible with all sincerity ’ D u mas s e n and reverence , and in most vivid and

n thralling man er. The trial of J esus H is encounter with the Je w and the terrible curse H e laid u pon — w him all was as po erful as it was audacious . But the idea of the Passion told en f eu il l eton was too

we much for the authorities, and all that possess of “ — I saac Laqu e de m is a fragment a fe w scattered col u mns of one of the most daring literary ediﬁces M S — ever mortal man designed to erect. The . all ’ — ' in D umas s own handwriting was p resented by his

- son to the town of Villers Cotterets. 244 L I FE A N D WR ITIN G S OF

x The last of the romances of e ile , the Pasteur ’ ” d A s hbou rn , is said to have been drawn from an

English source . On the other hand , Parran , who made considerable researches into the dates and ’ D u mas s origins of works , believed both in its gen “ u ine ne ss ne w e and its merit . I t reveals a sid to ” we his talent, he declares . To this are regret fully unable to subscribe . Apart from the story of “ D G la ame rise which it contains , and which may

’ have been s u ggested by M arie D orva l s passionate and unconquerable grief for her dead child , the novel would seem to have originally been a German at tempt to copy Goldsmith or Richardson . Probably something in this story attracted Dumas and caused f him to translate and trans orm it . The novel is obviously incomplete as it stands , but we can ﬁnd no trace of a sequel , which perhaps its lack of success did not encourage the author to supply. La Boule ” de Neige (or M oullah - Nour is also a transla

M arlinsk tion or adaptation of a story by y, but the humour with which it is told makes it our author’s own , if not by right of ownership , then by right of

conquest. The year 1 854saw Dumas back in Paris and in

in M us ueca i re stalled the editorial chair of the o q . “ Salteador (or The Brigand which appeared in ’ u the great man s jo rnal , was announced in the ’ master s introductory note as by another hand ; but,

246 L IF E A N D \V R IT I N G S OF

better quality , and we are surprised that the E nglish translations of it have been allowed to go out of W t print . e ﬁnd ourselves once more in the mids of R the evolution , the leading character of the story

e M b ing arat, to whom a love romance of his youth

dau h bri ngs a strange sequel . The heroine is the g Ré ter of tif de la Bretonne , a literary character of the time but his descendants resented the freedom with which their ancestors were treated , and warned ' D u mas s the public no t to accept the story as true . w sincere apology , and declaration that he was una are of the existence of any survivors of the family were accepted . A sequel to Les D e ux D iane also belongs to ” 1 8 du D u e obvi 5 5 Le Page de Savoie , and is ousl —M y from the same pens eurice , instructed by his master . ’ W e now come to another of our author s very best romances Les Compagnons de J ehu . This

1 8 story, which appeared in 5 7 , was suggested (as

’ we learn from the preface) by a page in N odie rs “ Revol u n tio . D Souvenirs de la umas , in accord

-e u - ance with his practice , visited Bourg Bresse to study the locality , and gives an instructive and amusing account of his visit , in the introduction to the book . At the time when he set off on the track of the young Royalist highwaymen he was preparing to write a serial to be called “ René A LEXANDR E DUM AS 247

’ d A r onne g , and was studying Varennes for that

u n p rpose , along with Paul Bocage , so that the eat d raft of the Compagnons which About saw on ’ ’ w s D u mas s table a probably by that young prentice . I n our j udgment this story of the days of the D irc e ~ toirc is one of th e most dramatic and skilfully con

’ D u ma s s structed of all romances , and excels most D of its more famous rivals in unity and form . umas

l s o ﬁ to k an interest in the story, and is said to have suggested to his father the characters of Roland de M R ontrevel , the young epublican , and Sir J ohn

r Tanlay , the English aristoc at . “ -C ! M Once more , Villers otterets I n Le eneur " r de Loups , which dates from this year, the nar ator

M oc u e t is q , the friend of the boy Alexandre , keeper

G D u to eneral umas , and hero of a wonderf l trip to

D ho w the moon . umas recalls in his childhood

M oc ue t q told him the tale of Thibaut, the man who became a wolf ; and the weird adventures of the l ozt - a rou p g are told engrossingly enough , not to say

- in - - enthrallingly . But their chronicler after years modestly disclaims the credit . He speaks of the “ story as his , it is true , adding very sensibly , when one has sat on an egg for thirty - two years one ' — ﬁnishes by thinki ng one has laid it one s self ! “ C R Le apitaine ichard , known to the last generation of E nglish readers as “ The Twin

s is C a r . apt in , a good story spoilt by histo y For 248 L I FE A N D WR I TI N G S O F once D umas did not give sufﬁcient attention to the fusing process, and story and history could almost be disentangled W ithout damage to either.

The plot, as we learn in the epilogue , was given to D umas by Schlegel , the great critic, whom the “ former met when he was doing the Rhine in

1 83 8 . The period of the story is that of the Trou ’ de l E nfer Napoleon is in Germany ; and the account of the attempted assassination of the M w Emperor by Staps, and of the osco campaign , ’ Th are both of the author s best. e tale ﬁnishes with such a dramatic situation that one is tempted to regret the evident haste with which “ Le Capitaine R ichard was written , a haste which compressed matter for a full -siz ed drama into the last few pages of a novel . “ ’ W e L H orosco e a pass by p , fragment of the

- l l history of the short lived Francois . , husband of M ary Queen of Scots, a piece of work of which the little we possess makes us ask vainly for more ; ” Black , a pretty story , based on the idea of the transmigration of souls into the bodies of animals ; “ " “ and A mmalat Beg (or S ultane tta rewritten by Dumas from a translation of a story in Russian

linsk 1 M ar , 1 8 by y This was published in 59 , being, ’ D umas s C of course , the result of visit to the aucasus

1 A n E n i sh e rsion of h is s or one of th e es known in Ru ssian gl v t t y, b t ’ r r a eared i n B l a ckwood s 1 8 i e a u e . l t t , pp , 43

25 0 L I FE A N D W R I TI NG S O F

f M r be ore the outbreak . Saintsbury remarks that “ ” the episode of E wan of Briggl ands in Rob Roy “ ” is calmly translated verbatim into this romance . This is some what of an exaggeration ; the incident “ ” is undoubtedly conveyed , it is true , but is retold in more graphic style . The character of J ean Ou llier alone should give this book life : he is a — ﬁne study of the Breton peasant cunning, dogged , — devoted , pious one of the best portraits from the hands of the master . “ M G La aison de lace , known to us in the “ R G 1 8 sixties as The ussian ipsy, published in 59 , was another outcome of the visit to Russia two years before . I t is a romance of the court of the

Empress Anna , in the early half of the eighteenth

. W e century, full of intrigue and passion incline to M believe , with aurel , that the story is a translation . Another excursion into unfamiliar regions was

’ ” L Ile w de Feu , kno n to a past generation in D England as octor Basilius . This was probably written with an assistant who knew J ava well , for it is a weird story of that island , the interest afforded by the people and customs of that s emi barbarous spot being heightened by a suggestion “ of the supernatural . Truly one of the gems of D the collection , writes a deep student of umas , “ th e concluding volume being perhaps among his ” ﬁnest work . A LEXA ND R E D UM AS 25 1

Pére R Le la uine , which dates from this period , C ” “ resembles Le hasseur de Sauvagine , Le Fils “ du e t Forcat , and Parisiens Provinciaux, so much as to suggest Dumas in collaboration with de Cher ville once more . I t is a pretty but sad story, in “ C c which , as in ons ience , the love of the French peasant for the soil is powerfully shown . ’ “ A translation of T re la wne y s Adventures of a ” ’ e D u mas s Younger Son , made und r orders , and “ Um C known as adet de Famille , and one of ’ “ G -C ordon umming s Adventures of a Lion H unter , “ ” k au D nown as La Vie esert, were also issued in

1 860 w D u w , hen umas set out on that to r hich r ended in the camp of Ga ibaldi . For some time the romancer was busy following the fortunes of “ — ” w the red shirts , editing a paper at Naples , riting “ M é G the moires de aribaldi , his own diary as m a ateur war correspondent, and the rest ; and it was not until 1 863 that he published another romance of any importance “ M adame de Cham ” blay . According to the circumstantial account given in the introduction , the manuscript of this D story was sent to umas by a friend , whom he

C e 1 8 6 had met at ompi gne in 3 , when on a visit ’ u c D l to the young D Or eans . The novel tells of a young wife, an unworthy husband , a lover, a

d [a w potion J uliet , by hich the lady escapes from bondage , and promises a happy life for lover and 25 2 L I FE A N D WR I TIN G S O F

t mistress in a distant land . I n spite of his testi

w M r mony, ho ever , Saintsbury believes Octave Feuillet to be the author of “ M adame de Cham blay Be that as it may, we have seen that D h umas does not claim t e authorship for himself. “ ” a 1 86 1 Une Nuit Florence , published in , is a story based on the life - history of the M edicis a favourite topic with D umas . The night in question is the 2 nd or grd J anuary and concerns the adventure of the Duke Alexander de

M z edici , who is ﬁnally killed by his cousin Loren ino, “ the Brutus of his day . I t would be interesting M ’ to compare this story with de usset s play,

Lor nz i e acc o w . , hich it closely resembles About this time ( 1 86 2 ) appeared Une Aventure ’ d A mou r , which is more an autobiographical sketch and a record of the author’s visit to Austria in 1 8 6 D 5 , than ﬁction . I ncidentally it shows umas as the chivalrous friend of a beautiful woman in

u a risky and eq ivocal position . H erminie or “ z Une Ama one , which is bound with the same v — 1 8 olume , is of earlier date about 45 . It is a

5a! ma s u é short story of a q intrigue , a sort of “ ’ d A nton belated Souvenir y, and is considered a model short story in its way . — — ’ I n the following year 1 8 64 came D u mas s last

1 Th i h d A u h s is t e ate given by D umas . t orities disagree as to th e da and e e n as to th e e ar y, v y .

25 4 L I FE A ND WR I TI NG S O F

the author during the past twenty years . The “ ” pace , is now comparatively slow ; one is no longer ’ “ ” o ff M . swept one s feet, as with the ousquetaires

The author unfolds his tale deliberately , but with

u much of his old charm , stepping caref lly from document to document, and weaving half a score of threads together with a patience and dignity of “ style akin to Scott. La San Felice was followed “ ” m L onna by Em a y , in which is told the story of ’ i c Lady Hamilton s career , being a p turesque version , ’ M ” it is said, of that fascinating woman s emoirs. ’ A supplementary sequel , Les Souvenirs d une 8 1 6 . t Favorite , appeared in 5 Lady H amil on played a prominent part in the events described “ in La San Felice , and Dumas was evidently led on by his interest in that picturesque person ality to make her the central figure in succeeding volumes . ’ Readers wh o are inclined to disparage D u mas s ” w r later o k , particularly the products of the sixties, ” e t are advised to try Parisiens Provinciaux , issued C C this year, written with the omte de herville. The scene shifts from Paris to the neighbourhood ’ -C of the author s beloved Villers otterets, and is in fact a humorous comparison of the city cockney M (typified in the delightful person of . Peluche) and the “ rustic M adeleine The story might have taken the title of the author ' s first little play La A LEXAND R E DUM AS 25 5

’ C e t l A mou r hasse , for the humours of the chase and a slight but pretty love -story are the chief attractions of this book , which is one of the best of that class of novels written by Dumas and yet so — neglected by his admirers , the slight, humorous story of modern humble life. I t is not generally known that in the closing years of his life Dumas tried his hand once more “ - - at a romance of cape and sword . The reader

M M Calmann will search the comprehensive list of .

Levy in vain for any record of it . I n the early — — part of 1 866 so Ferry asserts the editor of Les N ou vel les appealed to Dumas for an historical D romance in his famous style , and umas agreed

an to think the matter over. H e found excellent “ C M subject in the career of Le omte de oret , that illegitimate son of Henri Quatre who dis appeared so mysteriously during the battle of C astelnaudary , and whose body was never found . He had already treated this s ubject in that charm “ ” C u i ng story , La olombe . The ﬁrst n mber of

a il /d on n the ﬂ , Ferry tells us , promised an engrossi g story ; but unhappily other preoccupations , other ’ D u mas s work , took attention from the romance , which ﬂagged . H e lost the thread of the narra

' c/zrom u e n tive , which became merely a g , full of lo g

s f D extract rom the memoirs of Pontis , elaporte, and from other historical documents of the seventeenth 25 6 L I FE A N D WR IT I N G S OF

It c . d to century suddenly ease appear, and was

never heard of more . But although the romance

transla is not now accessible , a wretched American

tion published at the time, and happily preserved , b shows that the story has been underrated y M .

no Ferry . Some of it, indeed, is excellent, tably the chapter in which Corneille is introduced to the

‘ ' ’ p rerzeu ses ridi cu l es of the day ; and Richelieu s “ ” intrigues, and the incident of the day of dupes,

are Dumas as we know him best . The period of “ Le Comte de M oret ” just precedes that of the

M ousquetaires . Two of the last volumes of ﬁction from the pen of the fast-ageing writer were of the revolutionary “ ” 1 e t 1 86 period . Les Blancs les Bleus ( 7 ) like “ ” ’ C N odie r s the ompagnons , was suggested by “ ” Ré n D ac Souvenirs de la volutio , and umas in knowledgme nt introduces his old friend into the n story . I t is i teresting chieﬂy for the dramatic “ episode of Euloge Schneider the red, who bar R gained for the hand of a oyalist maiden , as the ’ “ price of her father s life . Les Blancs e t les

Bleus, the scene of which is laid in Strasbourg in

D 1 ecember 79 3 , was dedicated , with a gleam of ’ N odie r the author s old wit, to the memory of , his

1 ” La T erreur russienne a h ou h ech nica a no e deri es P , lt g t lly v l, v i ts ch i e in e res and a ue rom its h i s ori ca ma er and is h ere ore f t t v l f t l tt , t f dea W i h i n h a ca aci lt t t t p ty .

25 8 L I FE AND WR I TI NGS OF

de Pierrot . This verdict also disposes of the tales “ ’ “ ’ ’ in L H omme aux Contes L H istoire d un ” - w a casse noisette, is, we kno , an adapt tion of ’ H offmann s story of the same name . N ext to the plays , with which we have not dealt

a for re sons already given , and to the romances , —if come the travels not in importance , at least in

r o iginality. These volumes abound in gaiety , in

s a rchze ol o brief sketche of dialogue , of history, of gy, —in of p ersonal adventure short, they make a mél a n e w ! g , a savoury ste , with Dumas for cook Parigot suggests that they should be called Im D pressions produites par umas en Voyage , and declares “ he is charming thus though with a “ touch of satire he adds , one scarcely exaggerates when one says that the beauty of a country was to D umas in proportion to the native admiration for ” ” E n his books. Of the ﬁrst trip , Suisse we have already given some account then followed those on La M idi de la France and Les Bords du Rhin the former containing La Chasse au

C ro hastre and other excellent reading ; the latter , p w G bably ritten with the help of erard de N erval , telling, amongst other matter , of Waterloo and

M R - arceau , of ubens , and the devil tempted archi

e d te t of Cologne cathedral . I taly and the M e i “ ” terranean yielded the ﬁnest crop of impressions , and there appeared in rapid succession Une Année A LEXAN DR E D UM AS 25 9

31 Florence (in and Le Capitaine Arena followed by Le Corricolo and Le Speronare “ ” in the next two years . I t must be said , admits

“ ‘ ’ z Corricolo Fit gerald, that the , an account of ‘ S ’ Naples , and the peronare , an account of Florence — ’ both written by Du ma s s friend F iore ntin under his direction—are as spirited and amusing books of ” travels as can be found . La Villa Palmieri is another volume of souvenirs of Florence .

1 8 6 D I n 4 , as will be remembered , umas set out M for adrid , to be present at the royal wedding , and the followi ng year his description of Spain was ” “ in aC . issued , in Paris adix Spain had had little “ fluence on his genius , it is true , says Parigot, but what impressions he has left us ! The very custom house ofﬁcers respected the baggage of the illus ’ trions Frenchman ; the author of M onte Cristo was received with open arms ; the French school masters left their work to escort him hither and

thither , and the great hidalgos paid him homage of a C ” courtesy . As a consequence , Paris adix is

verve -ﬁ hts full of and gaiety , bull g , dances , and the “ é rest. Le V loce , issued two years later, is a ’ description of D uma s s adventu res in that state f vessel along the coast of North A rica . Of the

1 “ ” Le Capitai ne A rena tells of a t our rou nd Si ci ly i n a ve sse l ” a m n S r nare i i h coas i n commanded by th at se a . A pe o s a l g t t g ” u sed th e I a ians a corri col o a carria e e vesse l by t l , g u sed by th — “ N eapolitans a sort of ti lbury . 260 L I FE A N D W R IT I NG S OF

“ “ travels E n Russie ( 1 865 ) and Le Ca u ca s e

1 8 ( 59) we have already spoken , and there only ” z a i w r 1 8 remains Quin e jours Sina , itten in 39 , a book remarkable for the fact that althou gh D umas was never in Palestine (he wrote the volume from ’ D au z ats the drawings of and Baron Taylor s notes), it was declared by a Caliph to be the most faithful description of the H oly Land that he had ever read !

u I ts a thor, we can believe , was delighted to ﬁnd he had revealed the East to the Orientals . “ W e U n u 1 86 must not omit Pays I nconn , 5 (an account of a visit to the land of the Az tecs in South w M r America, and ritten from the notes of a certain

M - iddleton Payne of New York) , if only because of the incidental assertion , unmistakably made , that

vi si ted Me Uni ted S l a l es in Dumas had . I t seems

a man credible that who travelled in the public eye ,

i t w invari as were , and hose j ourneys abroad were

u ably turned to delightful acco nt , could have gone to America unnoticed , and returned to leave his

W e w D wi sked visit unrecorded . kno that umas to cross the Atlantic , but was restrained by a natural fear that his negro descent might lay him open f D to humiliating rebuf s . Probably, either umas “ f bluf ed his readers more hardily than usual , or else the introduction and notes were written by a ’ wh o prentice had had the desired experience . Not ye t have we exhausted the catalogue of this

262 L I FE A N D W R IT I N G S O F

cess , we shall try to go backward as far as Alex

, . ander and forward as far as Napoleon Evidently . ’ D u m s the series did not appeal to a s public . Of one of these books its author tells an amusing anecdote . H e was chatting with a somewhat super

‘ c iliou s sa va m , and incidentally mentioned that he had written a history of Cmsar. You have written a history of Cae sar ? repeated the incredulous listener with a smile . " Yes . You ? W hy not Pardon ' But it has not been spoken of amongst scholars

Oh , the scholars never speak of me . But a history of Cae sar should have caused some sensation ? “ ’ M a ine c used none ; people read it , that s all . I t is the u nreadable histories which make sensa

’ tions ; they are like the dinners which one do e sn t

does digest ; the dinners which one digest, one has

o forg tten by next day . Of these excursions into history “ La Route de “ Varennes ( t 86o) and La Terreur Prussienne

1 86 ( 7 ) are two of the most valuable . The former ’ X V I s was an attempt to write the story of Louis .

m h r ﬂight fro Paris , of which isto ical accounts seemed D confusing and contradictory . umas followed the A LEXAND R E D UM AS 263

course of the royal fugitive step by step , and

M D u C axime amp , who had himself studied the ’ h D u mas s epoc carefully, testiﬁed to accuracy and skill in the revision of the work of trusted historians . ” ﬁction- ra cti The Terreur , in spite of its form , is p

Prusso- cally a study of the Austrian war, made on d the spot , and full of shrew observation and dis

W e u . q ieting forebodings , soon to be justiﬁed ’ G D u mas s should add here Les aribaldiens , diary as amateu r and volunteer war correspondent in

1 860— a crisp , intelligent , restrained account of the

Sicilian campaign . ’ Certainly not the least attractive of D u mas s writings are those i n which he writes frankly of himself, his friends , his pets , and all that concerns his life and work . Of these , the ﬁrst in order and importance is M e s M émoires commenced in the “ 1 8 2 - forties, but written in exile in 5 54, when leisure allowed the advent u rous author to look back

D r G upon his early life . arnett speaks of them as

“ ‘ ’ M é incon those wondrous moires which, as it is ce iva bl e that anyone but himself sho u ld have written ” u them , alone s fﬁce to establish his genius . The ten volumes cover the period of childhood, the early

R 1 8 0 struggles and triumphs , the evolution of 3 , and

w 1 8 2 - end abruptly at the time of the S iss tour, 3 3 3 . But the M é moires ” contain much more than

’ D u ma s s own history ; he chronicles the political ' [Tra ml a l zon. ]

M Y F AT H E R

M Y a h er wh o h as a read e en men ioned wice in th e ore f t , l y b t t f oin ch a er ﬁrstl e? ro er of m cer i ca e of i r h a nd g g pt , y, p p y t ﬁ t b t , a a i n i n connec i on W i h h i s own marri a e -con rac was g , t t g t t,

- Gene ra l Th omas A le xandre D umas Da vy de l a Paill e te ri e . H e was as we h a e sh own i n th e documen s ci ed us , v t t by son of th e M ar u is A n oi ne -A e andre D a de l a Pa i ll e terie q t l x vy , Co one and Commi ssar —Ge nera of A r i e r wh o owned l l y l t ll y, by inh eri a nce th e e s a e of La Paill eterie rai sed to a ar uisa e t t t , M q t

L X I i n 1 0 . by ouis V . 7 7 “ ’ ’ (2 ”wk e a es d or Th e arms of th e ami were . d a z u r l f ly g , ' ’ ’ a ux v ol s e l o es our deux et mi a vec u n a nnea u d a r e7zt fi y p , g ’ ’ ‘ l a ce en ewur embrasses a r l es r zs dex tres et seneszres des p , p g gfi ’ ” ( mg /es da eke] ,et refiose mt su r [a ti l e de Z a zlg/e de poi nte. M a h e r wh en en i s i n a s a sim e so dier or ra h er y f t , l t g pl l , t , whe n renouncm o h i e and coa -of-arms ado ed ins ead g b t t tl t , pt t — th e simple devi ce De us ded i t D e us dah it a device wh i ch wou d h a e sounded am i ious i f God h i mse h ad not coun e r l v b t , lf t signed it. I do not k now wh at secre t discontent or specul a tive pl an de ermi n ed m rand a h e r to ui F rance a ou 1 60 se h is t y g f t q t , b t 7 , ll s a e nd o off to a ke u h i a od i e t t a g t p s b e n San D omingo. A s a re sult of th is re solution h e bough t a n imme nse s tre tch of land situated on th e weste rn side of th e i s land n ear Ca pe R ose and kno wn a s La Gu i n odée or th e T rou d er , e J emi e . It was h ere h a m a h er wa s orn of Lou i se -Ce ssette t t t y f t b , D uma a nd th e M a r u is de l a Pa i ll e te rie on r h h s a c 2 t 1 62 . q , M 5 , 7 Th e M a r u i s was h en fift -two e ars of a e h avm e en orn q t y y g , g b b 0 in 1 7 1 . M y fath er first saw th e l i gh t i n th e most b eau tifu l spot in th at ma ni cen i s and uee n of th e u i n wh i ch i t i s si ua ed g fi t l , q g lf t t , a nd of wh i ch th e air i s so pure th at no venomous reptile can h re exist t e .

266 L I FE A N D WR IT I N G S OF

Gli ne l in the library of the Vatican , and is , tells us , “ ” une grande fantaisie sur Rome ancienne . I t “ M é is not now accessible . The moires de

Talma , on the other hand , were written by D u mas from memoranda left by the great trage dian , and have been recognised by Fournel , J . Che rbu l ie z , and others , to be practically a bio graphy of the actor, written by his young admirer, in after years .

One other work also stands in a class by itself. “ C Cé e This is rimes l bres , which appeared in “ 1 839 - 40 The series was founded on the Causes Célebres of G ayot de Pith aval ; the excellent material afforded by that industrious person was divested of formality and tediousness , and rewritten with all the animation and dramatic effect for which the novelist was noted . The records were com pared by Dumas with the best authorities ou the f w subject, and the romances of real li e ritten with

. ournie r scrupulous attention to accuracy Arnould , F ,

l M all e ﬁlle F orentino, and were responsible for some “ : chapters , which consisted of the following Les ” C Ge ” “ Borgia , La omtesse de St ran , J eanne de ” “ ” “ N is ida M Bri nvill ie rs Naples, , La arquise de , C ” “ M G ” “ Les enci , La arquise de anges , Karl “ z Ludwig Sand (the murderer of Kot ebue), Van “ ra ndie r inka and Urbain G . (This last was dramatised by the author . ) The whole scheme of t E X rXN D R E D U hI r\ S 267

’ D umas s the book is of course , and some of the chapters appeared in his different I mpressions de

Voyage . Dumas th e poet is perhaps best represented by

C . e t harles V I I ses grands Vassaux , and by

M Gline l Christine but . has collected a con s ide rabl e w number of fugitive poems , most of hich

“ ” l appeared in the Psyche . They prove what , ’ D umas s d - indeed , trage y dramas show , that he had ’ l a mouvemeu t [a rou l eu r et I m/a e d , g , and expresse passion with a rare vigour and warmth “ Although

o f lacking a sure knowledge syntax , says Parigot ,

and deﬁcient in mastery of form , he sparkled with wh . o gaiety and youth , even in verse The man w rote the lion chase , the dream of the desert, and

C V I I u the ﬁfth act of harles . the spirituel co plets

‘ ’

L . v e in and , abo all , the prologue to C ’ aligula is not a poet to be despised . indeed , did this marvellous man attempt, that he did not in some degree achieve ? Of the thirty or forty poems thus preserved , the elegy on the death

G al C of ener Foy , the dithyrambe anaris , in praise G of that heroic reek , and the verses to H ugo and

- . e Sainte Beuve , deserve mention I n s lecting one of ’ D u mas s poems for quotation , we have chosen what we believe to be one of the best and most typical .

1 D umas translate d a numbe r of poems from German an d R ussian wri e rs but h e se are not now accessi e . t , t bl 268 L I FE A N D WR I T I NG S OF

I t is La Sylphe, one of the fairy race which we m e et in the Rape of the Lock

u i u ms h e u ne om re un rien un réve Je s s ylp , b , , , ’ H oe de ai r e s ri m s érieu t l , p t y t x, e er ar um ue l e z e h ir en e e L g p f , q p l v , ’ A nne au i an ui oin h omme et l e s dieu v v t, q j t l x

D e mon corps pur l es ra yons diaph anes Flottent meles a l a vapeur da soir m cach e aux re ards d e s ro anes Ma i s je e g p f , ’ E t l ame seule en songe pe ut me voi r.

Rasant du lac l a nappe étince l ante ’ ’ D un vol légerjefﬂe ure l es rose aux E t a ancé su r mon a i e ri an e , b l l b ll t , ’ ri d a J a ime a me voi r dans l e c sta l es e ux.

D ans vos j ardins quelque fOi s je voltige ’ E t m enivrant de sua e s odeurs , v , ns ue mon ied asse i nc i ner eur i e Sa q p f l l t g ,

Je me suspends a u cali ce de s ﬂe urs.

’ D ans vos o ers en re a ec conﬁance f y j t v , E t récréan son oei c os a de mi , t l l , ’ ’ J aime a verser de s songe s d i nnocence ’ S ur l e front pur d un e nfa nt endormi .

Lorsque sur vou s l a nuit j e tte son voile ’ sse a ux Ci e u comme u n on ﬁlet d or Je gl i x l g , ’ E t l e s morta ls di sent C e st une étoile ’ ” u mi r r Q ui d n a vous p ésage l a mo t .

We are far from pretending that the foregoing is a complete review of its subject . The task is an almost endless one , and there are limits to time and space and the patience of readers . We submit ,

w in ho ever, that this analytical description is advance of pu blic knowledge in England and

27 0 L I FE A N D WR I TI N G S OF

“ th e publishers of his day who sent it forth as the ’ ” 1 . G D master s Like oldsmith , umas became a bondman to his publishers , and yielded weakly to them . H is reputation has suffered accordingly , as was only right but we believe that when the wheat

own w f of his gro ing is sifted from the cha f, as one w d day it will be , and hen the truth has prevaile D over slander , umas , as a man and as a writer, will stand higher than he has ever done .

1 W e ne ed h ardly say th a t th is i n no way reﬂects on th e present i h e - u mann . s rs of D umas M M . Cal Le p bl , vy

274 L I FE A N D WR I T I N G S O F

two - instead of , our puppy dogs , drunk with moon shine, would manage to look at them all and not see any of them ! I t was the fashion to treat our author as the chief

- of a school of second rate writers of popular stories, w “ hich were turned out hastily, and which there D ” fore possessed no claim to criticism . umas , Dr G adds arnett, exceptionally passed for long as an example of this inferior grade of authorship . At one time it would have been thought absurd to

z parallel him with deep thinkers like Bal ac, or M C ’ exquisite artists like George Sand . onte risto ’ and the ‘ Three M usketeers were ranged along with ‘ The Mysteries of Paris ’ and ‘ The Wandering ’ u J ew, and the circumstances of their reprod ction in E ngland showed that they were expected to appeal to readers of the same class . Yet as time passed , and mere cle ver melodrama gave place to other clever melodrama but D umas retained his power and popularity , it became clear that his work really

u belonged to the domain of literature . I n adj sting D the relations between umas and his critics , it must be remembered that he did not, like some of the literary heroes of his age , take the world by storm

D u with his earliest writings . But mas had acquired a good sound reputation as a second - rate ’ w M C and romancer before riting onte risto , criticism h im ” was naturally slow to accept as a genius . A LEXANDR E D UM AS 27 5

8 1 80 and M r . . We come down to , ﬁnd W H Pollock asserting in the N ineteenth Century ” that Dumas has perhaps been more persistently under in rated , England at least, than any modern writer

z of his calibre ; and ﬁve years later Bla e de Bury,

re O in his study of our subject , fers to public pinion “ w ' D in France , hen he writes umas is popular ;

n he is not k own . H is method of life and his occasional worthless books greatly damaged his literary position . He is usually looked upon

‘ ’ simply as an amuser, and yet, like others, and more than many others , he had his moments of “ lofty thought and philosophy . Even to be

‘ “ amusing, as Parigot drily remarks , is not, when

one looks round the world of literature , so common place and contemptible a merit , after all .

Nevertheless , in one province of literary opinion there has been a striking change during the past

twenty or thirty years . The English literary

we critics and essayists of the romantic school , as

shall see , have more and more loudly proclaimed

their admiration of Dumas . Still the public at

Its large remains ignorant and unco nverted . attitude towards the romance -writer is thirty years

behind the times , and dates from the days when

’ ’ Chambe rs s Encyclopae dia treated our author in this summary fashion I t may be said that the appearance in literature 27 6 L I FE A N D WR ITING S OF

D of a writer like umas is a portentous phenomenon , and the avidity with which his invariably immoral and generally licentious ﬁctions are devoured is the most severe condemnation of modern , and especially ” of French society, that could well be pronounced . r That is prettywell , and one is rather elieved , for ’ D u mas s sake, to ﬁnd that the biographer has previously declared that the novelist did not write “ his own books at all W e read further of the “ savage voluptuousness of his books (the savage voluptuousness of the Tulipe Noire is good) , of “ ” “ his astounding quackery, and of his sweating system of production . Need we add that the “ brief biography ” refers us to “ De M irecourt ” ? ” Happily the Encyclopaedia has retrieved f itsel , and its latest edition contains a sketch of ’ D u mas s f r m M r . . li e, f o the pen of W E H enley,

- which, in the old fashioned language of our fathers, ’ ” does equal honour to that writer s head and heart. R ’ “ We learn from . L . Stevenson s Letters that his collaborator in “ Beau Austin was contem

l a D p ating book on umas some years ago . There M ” is, indeed , a passage in emories and Portraits which was written a t H enley something about ” Dumas still waiting his biographer. I t is truly a pity that the author of “ V iews and Reviews

not never wrote this book , and did obviate the necessity for the present work by giving the public

27 8 L I FE A ND W R I T I NGS OF

wind is blowing in certain quarters . I n a recent 1 M . work G . Pellissier complacently remarks that Dumas sacriﬁced his literary conscience to the vulgar taste of the public , and the necessities of the purse prevailed more and more over his work . ” W e he was only the most popular of amusers . are not surprised that this book was “ crowned by the ”

é . G e Acad mie . Brand s has repeated the same w statement, hich Parigot , who certainly possesses e som knowledge of the subject, ﬂatly denies “ G . Brandes has declared that Dumas wrote

’ en romantz ue en i ndustri el ﬁrstly g , and then ’ a doubly false estimate . I ndustriel Dumas never

‘ ’ ceased to be ; romantic he was also , if by the word we imply revolutionary ; but dramatic he

can a ware remained always , , and by right of conquest.

M e . Lanson, in his voluminous and compr hensive n D history of Fre ch literature , acknowledges umas

r to be a skilled stage c aftsman , but no more ; he ignore s Dumas the novelist altogether ! These criticisms could only exercise a very dis E tant inﬂuence on the ordinary nglish reader , and we need not concern ourselves with them further . But unhappily they seem to have fur nish e d the sole sources of reference for Professor D owden in his book on French literature . This

1 “ ° La ou emen Li érai re au XIX Si c M v t tt e le. A LEXAND R E DUM AS 27 9 famous scholar confesses in his preface that “ an adequate history of a great literature can be written only by collaboration . I n this small volume I too have had my collaborators who have written each a part of my book . The list of authorities which the professor quotes includes the three critics we have mentioned , and contains no record D of any direct study of umas himself. H ence we are not surprised to ﬁnd that he “ admits ”

’ h u r our author s istory to be nt ue , his characters ’

. Du mas s superﬁcial , his action incredible work “ ceased to be literature and became mere ‘ com ’ merce his money was ‘ recklessly squan ’

. s dered Half genius , half charlatan , his geniu decayed and his charlatanry grew to enormous " 1 - . w proportions H alf kno ledge , at second hand , gives currency to those half- tr u ths concerning which

r It re Tennyson held st ong opinions . is to be gre tte d that a great scholar meaning to deal fai rly and eve n kindly with a personality should be misled into a ﬂagrant under - estimate which is certain to be accepted by the public at large , who have a natural conﬁdence in the professor ’s ability and

1 regre t to ﬁnd th a t D r Garne tt (i n th e introducti on to th e la te st e di t i on of th e B lack re peats th i s ch arge i n almost “ " n i d wri th e same word s . Th e e i h e ch ar a a a s a e to a er p t t l t , ppl t , can su re ly only b e ta k en to imply th a t h e wrote W i th out conscience and lowe re d h i s standard of l i terary production to ca tch th e p ublic T h i s im i e d ch ar e we e i e e an i m ar i a re adi n of ta s te . pl g b l v p t l g ’ D umas s works at any peri od W l l l disprove . 280 L I FE A N D W R I T IN G S OF

honesty of purpose . I t is a relief to turn to ’ “ Professor Saintsbury s Short H istory of French Literature and ﬁnd our author dealt with more j ustly and sympathetically by one who has a fuller and more direct knowledge of his subject. The attit ude of the orthodox French critic to wards Dumas is even more severe and contemp

t uou s . , and this is easily explained A man of such irregular origin , who led such an irregular life , who produced his works in such an irregular way , was bound to shock the critics of the nation which takes pride in that triumph of literary con v ention é and snobbery , the Acad mie Francaise .

D re If umas had been content to live a quiet, ” spectable life , to stick to one class of writing, and conform to tradition in that branch of litera ture ; if in addition he had refrained from dis respectful witticism—s respecting the I nstitut , and maintained a non aggressive attitude towards the

a u teu i l world, a f might have been his . H e would have gained the praise of the con ventional and won , if not Immortality, at least an Academic fame . — — D e cc n But he remained umas himself, and an e tric individuality ; and so we ﬁnd Sainte - Beuve writing of him ' All that he has written is fairly

d wai tze bright , engrossing and amusing, , but spoilt

, by incompleteness negligence and vulgarity . Still , elsewhere the same writer condescends to say

282 L I FE A N D W R I T I N G S O F

W e have admitted the many faults to be found in Dumas as a man and a writer ; we have re corded , and shall continue to record , hard things said of him by expert and impartial critics . We ’ do this not only for honesty s sake , but because we believe that the shoulders of his talent are

M r broad enough to bear the burden . Henley is

- by no means a mealy mouthed witness , and this is how h e faces the point

He is one of the heroes of modern art. Envy and scandal have done their worst now . The libeller has said his say ; the detectives who make a speciality of literary forgeries have proved their cases one and all ; the judges of matter have spoken , and so have the critics of style ; the dis

‘ ’ tingu ishe d author of Nana has taken us into his conﬁdence on the subject ; we have heard from the lamented Granier (de Cassagnac) and others as much as was to be heard on the question of plagiarism in general and the plagiarisms of Dumas in particular ; and M r Percy Fitz gerald has done

’ ‘ what he is pleased to designate the nightman s

’ ‘ ’ ‘ ’ work of analysing Antony and K ean , and of collecting everything that spite has said about ’ ’ their author s life , their author s habits , their ’ author s manners and customs and character : of a whose vanity , mendacity , immor lity , and a score of e improper qualiti s besides , enough has been A LEXAND R E D UM A S 28 3

- z written to furnish a good si ed library . And the result of it all is that Dumas is recognised for a force in modern art and for one of the greatest

r r inventors and amusers the centu y has p oduced . Before proceeding to the counts in our defence “ ’ it may be as well to pu t into court D uma s s own opinion of his place in and value to literature . “ From the vain f ew/pea r something pompous and w ridiculously big ill be anticipated . “ ” “ Lamartine , he writes, is a dreamer ; Hugo

u . is a thinker ; as for myself, I am a pop lariser I take possession of both : I give substance to the dream of one , I throw light upon the thought of

u the other , and I serve p to the public this ex ce lle nt w dish , hich , from the hand of the ﬁrst would have lacked nourishment, being too light , and from the second , would have caused indigestion , being too heavy ; but which when seaso ned and intro du ce d by me , will agree with almost any stomach , the weakest as well as the strongest . ’ D u mas s This passage , of course , refers to

R bu t i t ma position in the ranks of the omantics , y fairly be taken as representing his general opinion w of his own worth . The reader ill be able to

we o u r j udge for himself as proceed , whether author

- wh is correct in this self estimation , or ether he falls below it or rises above it . w D The ﬁrst attack hich was made upon umas, 284 L I FE A ND W R I TIN GS OF

is and the ﬁrst therefore which we have to meet, “ " h . that his plays were orrible, and immoral The “ chief plays to be pilloried were Henri Trois , “ ” “ ” “ Don M C Antony , J uan de arana, aligula, and La Tour de Nesle . Each of these received its due share of ridicule from the wits of the rival school , the classicists . The ﬁrst , in which the intrigues of the Valois court were exposed, was the subject of an epigram which made fun of the “ handkerchief incident , (which no doubt was borrowed from “ Othello

essieurs et me sdames ce e iece e st mora e M , tt p l ’ E e rou e au ourd h u i san s a ire de scanda e ll p v j , f l , ’ ue ch e z un aman l ors u on va l e soir Q t, q 1 On pe ut oublier tout e xce pté son mouch oir “ Similarly, Antony , the society drama which set the fashion in “ foundling or illegitimate heroes, and heroines fair and frail , inspired the couplet

on ne oi d n os rues A croire ces MM . v t a s n ” 2 ue l es en an s trouvcs et l es emmes erdue s . Q f t , f p

’ The author s classic tragedy-drama gave rise to “ cali ul ate the slangy word g , meaning to bore

1 “ Ladies and en eme n h is a i s mora it ro e s h a now g tl , t pl y l p v t t ’ a-da s when meetin one s o er ni h one ma wi h ou scanda y , g l v by g t y t t l ’ ’ ” or e one s se b ut not one s h andkerch ie A udin o h f g t lf, f ! ( ll g t t e ’ ’ ac h a th e D uch esse de Guise s h and erch ie e in R u ieri s f t t —t k f, —l ft gg rooms wh ere sh e h as met St M e rin h er o er is ound th g , l v , f by e D uc and arousin h is e a ous e d h ra a s on to t e ed . , , by g j l y, l t g y ) 2 “ If we can believe th e se ge n tlemen (Dumas and oth ers of th e “ m s er wh e r on ” R omantics) one ee t e v y e ly women who are lost and ” hi dre wh ar ound c l n o e f .

28 6 L I FE A N D WR IT ING S O F

M onalde schi Ou e e n M ar of , the unholy love of “ ” u f g erite in La Tour de Nesle , and the pro anity “ " ” of D on J uan forget not only the horrors of D the old classic tragedies , which umas duly studied , “ but also the passages in Titus Andronicus , in M ” “ R acbeth, in ichard and other plays, which no stage - manager would dare to present to ? the pu blic to -day For in more than one respect R the omantic movement in France , in the early part

u z of last cent ry , corresponds with the Eli abethan era in our literature . W e have neither the desire nor the ability to present an elaborate comparison here it is su fﬁcient to note that political and social con ditio ns favoured a reaction towards passion and action in poetry , drama , and romance and this has been well shown by Dumas himself i n his preface “ C H i n w to omte ermann , hich our author explains and defe nds the outcomes of his ﬁrst dramatic

. C period H e had taken part, as astelar truly says ,

h war a in t at of gi nts , the struggle for the poetry

A cademic of nature against the poetry of the , breaking the chains of all literary codes , and loudly proclaiming liberty ; ardent and daring even to folly , like a hero in the war of his age against past ” age s Wh y, we may fairly ask, should critics take eager note of the e xcesses of the young dramatist and

n ig ore his second and last periods , when experience A LEXAND R E D UM AS 28 7 had taught a nature instinctively sane the folly of that Byronic mood i n which it had copied perhaps ? ’ not the best qual i ties of Shakespeare D u ma s s three famous comedies are all “ on the side of “ C ” “ M the angels and onscience , Le arbrier, and “ Comte H ermann are almost sermons in their didactic presentment of moral truths .

ma y leave this point in our case, then ,

u M quoting in s pport the words of Brander atthews , the A merican c ritic The horrible is not necessarily immoral

is a n f morality af air , not of subject but of treat

’

D u mas s . ment , and is not insidious or vicious No sooner had the orthodox French classicists

’ found D u mas s plays startlingly successful than they set themselves to discover the sources of his plots ,

r and to thei great delight , ascertained that he had “ G a nd stolen right and left, from English , erman “ c r ! other writers . I n reply to this y of Thief

n ! u , thief the a thor , in boldly characteristic fashio stated his theory of defence in respect of pl a giarism :

u wh o a nd . It is men invent , not the individ al Each in his turn and in his time lays hands on

- something accomplished by his fore runners , makes

ne w wa y use of it in a , and then dies , after having added some small share to the sum of human

u , knowledge . This he beq eaths to his successors f a new sta r in the M ilky “a y. As for the 2 88 L I FE A N D W R I T ING S OF

t t creative completion of a thing, I believe ha to be impossible . After having quoted Shakespeare and M oliere in D support of his practice , umas adds

The man of genius does not steal , he conquers ; he makes th e province which he annexes a part of his own empire , peoples it with his own subjects, and imposes his own laws upon it . H e extends o n his g lde sceptre over it , and no one dares to say, n ‘ as they look upon his fair ki gdom , That piece of ground was not part of his patrimony. One delightful sample of the knowledge and spirit with which D umas was attacked by his de “ in tractors is recorded the M émoires . Isabel e de Bavi re was , as we know , published serially in

R evue des deux M ondes the ﬁrst numbers of , which was at that time little known and read by few. Bourgeois and Lockroy j oined some of the most

’ striking scenes of the ekromqu e together and made them into a play called Perrinet Leclerc, which was very successful . At that time D umas had collaborated with Bourgeois in a drama Le Fils é ” Emigr , which our author confesses to have been “ " an execrable play . One of the leading critics of the day reviled D umas as if he were the sole author of the latter drama, but praised the other c to the skies ; and not ontent with this, the journalist emphasised his own fatuity by calling attention to

290 LI FE A N D WR I T I N G S OF

e was heard in the land ; and this tim the plays , “ with the exception of La Tour de Nesle, of which we have spoken , were let off lightly, partly

’ because D umas s earliest plays were inconte stibly

own his , partly because he did not dispute the M share of aquet, Bourgeois and the rest, in the later productions. A new charge , therefore, was

ih levelled at the romancer, whose second fame furiat d e his enemies . H e was represented as a rich , prosperous (l) spider who lured the starving “ ﬂies into his web, and sucked their brains , swell

wisibl w ing y thus , whilst they d elt in darkness,

m . enduring an obscure , not to say e pty , existence

’ Du mas s reply to thi s terrible indictment was a challenge , which we need hardly say was never accepted . He informed these unknown but talented authors that he was supplying the f eu d /el m to one

Paris journal only, and that therefore the rest of the press was Open to them . This was their

: opportunity now they could vindicate themselves, and win a reputation that was their own undis

“ ‘ ’ ‘ u te dl W M C p y. rite a onte risto or a Trois M “ ’ ousquetaires , he pleaded ; don t wait until I am dead- let me in turn have the pleasure of ” — reading your books ! The answer was silence . D umas was always the man of genius, whoever

co- s his worker may have been , and thi is asserted “ by all critics of any standing . That he was the A LEXA NDR E DUM A S 29 1

and moving spirit still, the actual author of what is best and most peculiar in the works which go ” “ M r by his name , says Saintsbury , is sufﬁciently proved by the fact that none of his assistants , w whose names are in many cases kno n , and who in not a few instances subsequently attained eminence

e ve n . re on their own account , has equalled or “ u W D sembled his pec liar style . hereas umas could turn out books that live , whoever his assistants

M r were, adds Lang, could any of his assistants ? write books that li ve without Dumas One might as well call any barrister in good practice a thief and an impostor because he has juniors to devil for him as make charges of this kind against D G th e umas . Theophile autier employs same “ ’ l A rt D . argument, in his H istoire de ramatique “ H e has been reproach ed with having h ad colla ” “

C . borators , writes astelar I declare that all these collaborators lost their brilliancy when they separated from Dumas ; and I must add , that all of them united do not weigh in the literary balances of Europe half as much as Dumas weighed alone. The implied accusation that D umas injured and debauched his “ assistants ” has been ruthlessly spoilt “ ” M . , , by . Edmond About The master he declared

took from them neither their money , for they

, are rich , nor their reputation for they are cele 292 L I FE A N D W R IT ING S OF brate d h for , nor t eir merit , they have it still , and in

. h plenty For the rest , they ave never pitied them

: o n selves the contrary , the proudest of them have congratulated themselves on having been to such a good school , and it is with a true veneration that the M M . greatest of them , aquet, speaks of his old ” friend . The great romancer frequently protested against “ wa s the word collaborators , and he right , for it implies an equality in quantity and quality of the “ ’ D u mas s work done which was not justiﬁed . “ M r method , says Lang, apparently was ﬁrst to

- — talk the subject over with his a ide de ca mp . This is an excellent practice, as ideas are knocked out , like sparks (an elderly illustration) , by the contact of r minds . Then the young man probably made e searches , put a rough sketch on paper, and supplied D ‘ ’ D umas , as it were , with his brief. Then umas

‘ ’ took the brief and wrote the novel . He gave it — life h e gave it the spark and the story lived and moved . The testimony of one of the great man ’s best

v collaborators is aluable evidence on this point . ” Comedie s e t C é Fiorentino , in his om diens , writes H ow many believed themselves his collaborators who conﬁdants ! were only his I n his books , but above all , in his plays , his collaborators had only the smallest share . H e remodelled the scenarios,

’ 294 LI FE A N D W R I T I N G S OF surely those who recognise the existence of such a study as the Art of Narrative will admit that Scott the poetic novelist was often terribly hampered by

I n Scott the antiquarian and arch aeologist . searching o u t details , in verifying references , and the other work of preparation the imagination is naturally restrained , the fancy is deadened , the mental t energies urn in the direction of the trivial , the pre C R cise , the formal . harles eade , a master of narra R tive , too frequently gives us a glimpse of eade the

- D compiler of cuttings books . umas himself offers a “ still more glaring example for when preparing La San Felice ” he made his own researches into the original documents , and , seeing the historical and picturesque importance of each , he wrote a story full of detail and long parentheses , which only his

m -o u t great skill saved fro being dull and drawn . If the facts had been brought to him already ferreted

w z out , he ould have seen and sei ed on the salient w points , and have ritten a romance half the length , but with ten times the brilliance and engrossing charm .

I t frequently proclaimed , by p eople imperfectly ’ D u mas s im acquainted with novels , that they are

i n u moral nat re and tendency . I t must be con fessed that this is true—ii books dealing with pitch

u s de ﬁl e d m t of necessity be themselves . He attempted to teach his fellow- Frenchmen the history ALEXAN D RE DUM AS 29 5

e a e s o c of th ir nation , and the history of Fr nc , ial and

- political , is full of improperly behaved personages . \Ve can quit e unde rsta nd th e attitude of those peo pl e wh o w e e fa e s ish to ignor gr at cts , such as the s n ual as w e ll as the e th e re al sid e of lo ve between the c \ c s th e s s , passionate love which laugh at priests a nd aw e s e l y r , and oth r objectionable traits of human

t u rc \Ve a v e e ade D na . d is these r rs to avoid umas , ”

s M r. \V. th e e a . and all other gr t writers If, say “ w e H . Pollock , his riting is not intend d for boys

de o ne u and mai ns , that is q ality which he has in

w la writc rs common ith such p y as for instance ,

S a e s e e R M e e h k p ar , acine , and oli r , and such

Le a e o v e as G e F e . n lists o the, i lding , and S g H is

‘ ’ m e thod was at any rate an hon e st method ; he did no t al tc r a s th e e s c p , mod rn French hool of

a w do e s w e e e o ne pl y riting , ith vice and virtu , k p ing fo d e a ch a nd ot in the omain of , casting a false ” glamour of splendour aro u nd corruption . wn But h e a r the dc fe ndant i n his o cause .

G o d a a I had , thank , n tural sentiment of

e cac as u s i x d li y ( a boy) , and th s, out of my hundred " vo lumes th e re a re not fo u r which the most s cru pu ” e D u a s lous moth e r may not gi v e to h e r dau ght r . m repe a te d this as s e rt i o n in a l e tte r to Napol e on I I I

1 3 6 we ve e a rs , in 4, t l y later adding I am as fatherly as Sir S cott are afraid that

1 Sce no e 2 : t , 296 LIFE A N D W R IT IN G S O F

Dumas gave mothers credit for too much breadth W and independence of mind . hen Stevenson , in defence of our romancer wrote that the world is wide and so are morals , he did not hope to win ’

M r M r. s . G . rundy s approval of the sentiment Lang, ’ “ D u mas s re l adds dealing more directly with p y, his

u w enormo s popularity , the widest in the orld of letters , owes absolutely nothing to prurience or w curiosity . The air hich he breathes is a healthy air, is the open air, and that by his own choice , for he had every temptation to seek another kind of vogue , and every opportunity. Hayward , again , notices the difference between D umas and so many other of the French writers with whom he is igno r “ a ntl y and indiscriminately classed . H is best romances says the author of “ Biographical

tran re ss Essays , rarely g propriety , and are entirely free—from that hard , cold , sceptical , materia list , illusion destroying tone which is so rep elling in Bal z ac and many others of the most popular ” French novelists . Professor Carpenter lifts the subject to a higher plane of thought . I w ﬁnd it impossible , he rites , to admit that ’ D u mas s l ow ideals were , unﬁt for common use .

I t is of honour that he tells most willingly—of ’ man s honour and the constancy of men to men ; of man ’s striving against the powders of the world

298 LIFE A N D W R I T I N G S OF

su the past , has distorted or ignored history . I n p port o f this indictment the critics have quoted the “ ” passages in Vingt Ans Apres relating to our — Civil W ar and the execution of Charles together w “ G M ith the eneral onk episode , in Brage “ C lonne , and the plot of the plays atherine

H oward and Kean . As he has expressed it in

w - w D a ell kno n sentence , umas deliberately violated

w u history, hen he had some set p rpose to achieve “ which rendered it necessary . The word ﬁction

implies something , even in historical romance , and the writer who has not the nerve to make a little

own history for his purposes , and to take liberties

u with great personages , may contrive very acc rate w history, but we are afraid he ill write a very dull w D romance . On the other hand, hen umas set himself to reprodu ce a certain period in the past t centuries , he was full of precise detail and his oric

was w fact . And he supreme in hat , after all , was the essential : he cau ght and re viviﬁe d the atmos

h e re b - p of those y gone days with a ﬁdelity , a power of conviction , a charm , and a subtle skill which no one before or since has excelled . The warfare between the classicists and roman tics i n French literature was waged ﬁercely through ’ N i rd w D u mas s . sa e out prime , of whom have D “ spoken , fastened on umas the stigma of easy ” composition . To this our author replied with his AL EXAN D RE DUM AS 299

- customary good humoured banter, behind which lurked a good deal of sense and power “ W ou w hen one is a real romancer, y kno , it is as easy to produce a romance as for an apple-tree to produce apples . This is how it is done . ’ One gets one s paper , pen and ink ; one sits down , as comfortably as possible , at a table not too

f u high , not to low one re lects for half an ho r, one

C I . writes a little . After the title , comes hapter ;

-ﬁve then one writes thirty lines to a page , ﬁfty

— two letters to a line for hundred pages , if it is to — be a romance in two volumes for four hundred — pages if in four volumes for eight hundred pages ,

if in eight volumes , and so on . And after ten or w w t enty or forty days, supposing that one rites w w t enty pages between morning and evening, hich means seven hundred lines , or letters daily, the romance is ﬁnished .

That is the way I work , say most of the critics who are good enough to concern themselves about me ; and these gentlemen only forget one thing. “ I t is this that before preparing the ink, the pens and the paper which must serve for the

ne w material in the development of a romance ,

- u before drawing my arm chair p to the table , before writing the title and those two very simple words ‘ Chapter I have sometimes thought for six 300 LI F E A N D W R I T I N G S OF

months , a year, ten years , about the subject

on which I am going to write . I owe to this

way of working the clearness of my intrigue, the

simplicity of my methods , the naturalness of my

effects . As a rule I do not begin a book until it ” is ﬁ nished .

of M G A women talent, adame de irardin , who

D u t knew and admired umas, p the case for her friend even more forcibly T his rapidity of composition , is like the swift ness of a railway train : both work on the same

—w s e an principles , from the ame caus s extreme

f u facility obtained by di ﬁc lties overcome . You cover sixty leagues i n three hours : it is nothing

you laugh at the swiftness of your travelling. But to what do you owe this marvel of transportation ?

To years of daunting toil , to money spent like water, all along your way, and to thousands of pairs

of arms which have prepared the way for you , day after weary day . You ﬂash past so swiftly that one can scarcely see you but to gain that freedom of speed for you , how men have slaved , and grown ! old, bending over the pick and shovel What plans have been made, and baulked what cares, what struggles has it not cost , to whirl you from this spot to that , so smoothly and easefully, and without a care or a fear ! ’ Blaz e de Bury further explains Du mas s facility

3 02 L I FE AND W R I T ING S OF

a of his old friend, which has been excellently p ra phrased and elaborated by M r Lang. “ the A writer so fertile , so rap id , so masterly in w ease ith which he worked , could not escape the

“ reproaches of barren envy. Because you overflowed

‘ ’ with wit , you could not be serious ; because you created with a word , you were said to scamp your work ; because you were never dull , never pedantic , incapable of greed , you were to be censured as

u des ltory, inaccurate , and prodigal . Having assured themselves that D umas wrote rapidly and therefore badly , the critics proceeded quite conﬁdently to dower that author with another literary vice . I n theology there is a sin so terrible as to be unmentionable ; in literature there is a sin so awful ind ﬁn bl e a e . as to be Therefore, it was decided, in order to dispose once and for all of the French

’ he - romancer s claims on t tender hearted public , that “ ” he should be declared to have no style . There is only one thing certain about this mysterious quality—that those who do not possess it cannot belong to the elect . Far be it from us to dare to attempt to indicate the nature and habits of this mythical creation : we can only attempt to win a place for Dumas among the “ stylists (for we must conform to this creed in the literary religion) by putting forward the A LE XAND R E D UM AS 3 03

testimony of such as are within the pale . I f a sufﬁcient number of these haloed great can be per suade d to gather round our sinner , perhaps it may never be noticed that he himself wears no such symbol of intellectual sanctity .

Our ﬁrst witness (we grieve to betray his identity , R but we must give chapter and verse), is . L .

Stevenson , whose manner of composition was the ’ D u mas s very opposite of . H e is allowed to “ possess style , and truly he laboured hard and it— w nobly to win the quality itself, not the ackno ledgment of it . ’ Du mas s There is no style so untranslatable (as ), “ he wrote ; light as a whipped trifle ; strong as ’ silk ; wordy like a village tale ; pat like a general s w despatch ; ith every fault, yet never tedious, with no merit , yet inimitably right .

Next we have M r Lang. I n addition to his fame as scholar and critic was he not the priz e stylist of an “ Academy competition ? That is as good as a degree at a University , it is an

’ unofﬁcial election to a f a u l e u z! and I mmortality

(with a capital I ) . Then note with respect this evidence “ When I read the maunderings , the stilted and staggering sentences , the hesitating phrases , the far sought and dear—bought and worthless word -j uggles ; the sham scientiﬁc verbiage, the native pedantries 3 04 L I FE A N D W R ITI NG S OF

‘ ’ so- of many modern called stylists , I rejoice that D umas was not one of these . H e told a plain tale, in the language suited to a plain tale , with abun

of w dance wit and gaiety . but he did not gna the end of his pen in search of some word that nobody had ever used in this or that connection f be ore . The right word came to him , the simple

- straightforward phrase . Epithet hunting may be a

- pretty sport , and the bag of the epithet hunter may contain some agreeable epigrams and rare specimens n of style but a plain tale of adve ture , of love and war , needs none of this industry, and is even spoiled by inopportune diligence . This misguided critic involves himself more

’ D u mas s deeply still . H e praises dialogue for its unsurpassed excellence , and dares to claim for some

' of D u mas s phrases that they are unconsciously Homeric ! “ I n your works we hear the H omeric M use again , rejoicing in the clash of steel ; and even , at times, your very phrases are unconsciously H omeric .

Look at these men of murder , on the Eve of St

’ Bartholomew, who ﬂee in terror from the Queen s

‘ chamber , and ﬁnd the door too narrow for their ’ ﬂight : the very words were anticipated in a line of the ‘ Odyssey ’ concerning the massacre of the C M W . ooers And the picture of atherine de edicis, prowling ‘ like a w olf a mong the bodies and the

3 06 L I FE A N D WR I T ING S OF

before scholars as models of French composition we may rest assured that there is some suspicion of

’ style about our author s writing, after all . We may return to the point touched upon by ’ M r D u mas s —we Lang, that style use the word in — ’ its uncanonical sense was ﬁtted to its author s “ u purpose . Of art , of caref l choice, of laborious adaptation of words and phrases and paragraphs ” “ . is there is none, says Professor Saintsbury I t

even capable of being argued whether, consistently

with his peculiar plan and object, there could , or

ought to be , any . A novel of incident, if it be

good, must be read as rapidly the seventh time as ’ it is the ﬁrst . Quite so the romancer s desire was to tell you a story in a way that would enthral you from beginning to end ; if you stopped to admire

u the exq isiteness of a phrase , or to ponder over the

w u possibilities hich a thought suggested, you wo ld

lose the thread of the story , the charm that its

n narrator had woven about you would be broke , w and his aim ould be defeated . D Even when umas seems wordy there is , as

- another great story teller saw clearly, an artistic reason for it . Stevenson , writing to one of his “ friends , touched on this point , and declared if there is anywhere a thing said in two sentences that could have been as clearly and as engagingly

’ o ne m and as forcibly said in , then it s a ateur work . A L EXAND R E D UM AS 3 07

“ But he added : Then you will bring me up with

D u . old mas Nay , the object of a story is to be ’ - long, to ﬁll up hours ; the story teller s art of w to riting is water out by continual invention , w historical and technical , and yet not seem to ater

o d seem , on the ther han , to practise that same wit of conspicuous and declaratory condensation whi c h ” is the proper art of writing .

W e One last word on this point. have taken a solemn vow not to blaspheme by attempting to deﬁne the occult word, but if style can be said to imply distinction and individuality in a writer , and w that in a praise orthy sense , then we claim it for D w umas . Once the reader is acquainted ith his

r style (in the French) he can ha dly mistake it . And if it is justiﬁed in narrative by its artistic subservience to the story , it justiﬁes itself in the

u lighter writi ngs of its author. Unfort nately these are practically unknown to the general British reading public . I n the slightest and loosest work of his vainest mood or his idlest moment D u mas is f ” w m at least unaf ected and unpretentious , says S i burne ; and we may add that in the best of his

occasional writings he exhibits qualities of wit , humour , and neatness of expression in a high degree . The last count in this lengthy indictment is perhaps the most serious . I t is asserted that 3 08 L I FE AN D WR I T ING S OF

D his l umas , at least in the latter part of ife, “ ” wrote for money . t This is a loose phrase , and we mus dis

in u ish M . t g . ost authors write for money I nti mate ” biographies show that in private life all writers not born to afﬂuence have valued the work of their brains in ﬁlthy lucre ; that they have demanded—and quite rightly—the market price for their work . The questions which really touch the quick of the subject are : Did Dumas pander to the public for gain ? D id he consciously lower and debase his abilities for ? money W as money the prime object of his ? labours W e deny all these possible charges . G D ranted , that umas , like many another artist, turned out bad work at times ; that he spoke of his books on occasion in commercial terms ; that he was generally pressed for money , and obliged to turn to his desk to satisfy a dun , or

fe w fulﬁl a contract , and that in the last years he resorted to shifts unbecoming in a man of genius. H e never parted company with his literary con science A score of examples of this could be given how he destroyed bad work how he delayed or refused to commence work for which he had not found in his b rain the plan of adequate treatment ; and how he deplored the bad stuff which he had been coerced or persuaded into doing . H e never

3 10 L I FE A N D \VR I T IN G S OF

D upon umas simply as a writer of ﬁction , and are

ignorant of his plays , the French regard him almost “ z exclusively as a dramatist. This , says Bla e de “ Bury shrewdly , is because the imperturbable

l s w entomological public ove classiﬁcation , and ill ” only j udge a man from one point of view . ’ Unable as we are to prove D umas s merits as a

playwright by instance and reminder, to readers

his unacquainted with stage triumphs , we must ” again have recourse to expert opinion, and show

indirectly , and as concisely as possible, the high position which Dumas occupies in the ranks of the ’ world s dramatists . H e possessed the “ dramatic instinct to the

full . H e is not a dramatic author ; he is the ” D drama incarnate ! cried Fiorentino . umas has

told us , with a pride which is justiﬁable, that

u all he needed was the bare apparat s of a stage , “

. h e two actors , and a passion I n this is held to — — h ave been superior as a craftsman to his frie nd

. \N hate ve r and rival , Victor H ugo Heine was as a

dramatic critic , he was a man of piercing insight where his prejudices did not obscure his view , and

further , a keen student of the literature of his time ; and this is what he says of the two authors , in his letters on the F rench stage “ The best tragic poets in France are still D Alexandre umas and V ictor H ugo . I put the A LEXAND R E D UM A S 3 1 1 latter in the second place because his efﬁciency as regards the theatre is not so great or productive of result. Dumas is not so great a poet — — as H ugo far from it but he has qualities which go much further, as regards the theatre . H e has at command that prompt, straightforward expression of

verve passion which the French call , and therein he is more French than H ugo ; he sympathises with all vices and virtues, daily needs and restless fancies

- of his fellow countrymen he is by turns enthusiastic ,

m - co edian like, noble , frivolous , swaggering, a real

G . son of France , that ascony of Europe H e speaks to heart with heart, and is understood and applauded . N 0 one has such a talent for the dramatic as

u —h e Dumas . The theatre is his tr e calling is a born stage poet , and all materials for the drama belong to him wherever he ﬁnds them , in nature

C . or in Schiller, Shakespeare or alderon A very unjust criticism on art which appeared long ago under most deplorable circumstances in the j ou rna l ’ aes D eéa fs greatly injured our poor poet among the ignorant multitude . I n it was shown that many s cenes in his plays had the most striking resemblance to others in former dramas . But there is nothing so foolish as this reproach of plagiarism ; the poet may grasp and grab boldly wherever he ﬁnds material for his works ; he may even appropriate 3 1 2 L I FE A N D W R IT IN G S OF w all hole columns , carved capitals and , so that the G e temple which they support be magni ﬁcent . o the

re understood this very well , as did Shakespea long before him . Professor Brander M atthews in his consideration of our author as playwright cannot avoid the “ two coupling of the great names . There is but ’ one dramatist of D u mas s generation who will stand ” “ comparison with him , he says ; and even Victor n Hugo , master as he is of many thi gs , is less a master of the theatre than D umas . “ Dumas ﬁl s wrote of his father as one who was and is the master of the modern stage , whose prodigious imagination touched the four cardinal — points of our art , tragedy , historic drama , the dramas of manners , and the comedy of anecdote ,

h faul t ‘ was w ose only to lack solemnity , and to have ff genius without pride , and fecundity without e ort ,

wh o as he had youth and health and (to conclude) ,

Shakespeare being taken as the culminating point ,

n n by i vention , power and variety, approached amo g ” us most closely to Shakespeare . And Professor ’ M : Du e atthews adds , of the son s opinion allow ” ance made , he is not so very far out . “ D M r “ umas broke ground , writes H enley , with the ease , the assurance , the insight into essentials, and a technical accomplishment of a master , and he reta i ned these qualities to the last . H e was the

3 1 4 L I FE A N I) WR I TI NG S OF

w n and else here ; but we are incli ed to suspect , by D the choice of masters here prescribed for umas, that the sage neither comprehended the nature of ’ w our author s talent , nor foresa its tendencies . C nl ertai y the drama of passion and intrigue , of ’ h D u mas s are w ich own plays the ﬁrst great examples , developed extremes for which the originator cannot G fairly be blamed . eorge Sand saw this , when , in dedicati ng her play on M oliere to her friend and con rére w f , she pleaded for psychology as ell as movement and action , as an element in the drama .

She protested against the idea that her play , illus tratin n g this theory , was in any way a challe ge levelled against the school of which Dumas was the chief. “ “ I love your works too well , she continued, I read them , I listen to them with too much emotion and appreciation to wish to cast th e slightest slur on your triumphs . You have lifted dramatic action to the highest power, without any desire to sacriﬁce

i psychological nterest to it, but your imitators have abandoned this second essential , for one must be of strong calibre to keep both ideals equally to the fore . I n his expositions of the hidden motives of his ’ plays , in his skilful analysis of his son s great play La Dame aux Camélias and in various “ D ” D chapters of his Souvenirs ramatiques , umas A LEXAN D R E DUM AS 3 1 5 showed that he was something more than the teller of a stage story, something better than a clever manipulator of incident and intrigue , plot and “ ? ” . M passion A man cried ichelet , no , an

x u element, like an ine ting ishable volcano or a great American river . H e remains the most

u l i vi n powerf l craftsman , the most g dramatist since

Shakespeare .

’ Of D umas s inﬂ uence on the modern French

M . u drama , Parigot has written f lly and learnedly ’ D d A l e x andre D w in his rame umas , sho ing the effec t produced in varying ways and degrees by

— o n the playwright on the later nineteenth century ,

Sa nde au D i r his son , on Augier , , audet , Lema t e ,

M r e . eilhac and Hal vy , Sardou , and othe s H e exercised a continuous and profo u nd inﬂuence on ” the drama of the nineteenth century, adds the writer , and we need only supplement his verdict by calling attention to the case of the “ latest discovery R in French dramatic literature , Edmond ostand , whose success with “ Cyrano de Bergerac so closely “ recalls the triumphs of the a u tho r of Les Trois ” Mousquetaires and H enri Trois . On ou r English drama the plays of D u mas have f had only a subtly indirect ef ect . As the founder ” of the society drama he has much to answer for ;

W - but for o ur sterile est End fashion plays , and the modern French school which has been evolved 3 1 6 L I FE AND WR I T IN G S OF

“ and from Antony his successors , the old play wright cannot fairly be held responsible. H e was f the ﬁrst to vivify the melodrama in its higher orm ,

- and the history drama , at present so popular with “ u us , owes its true birth to the a thor of La Tour de Nesle . H is three comedies have each been adapted and produced in London within recent years , but without much success ; and we may predict , without going into the grounds for our m belief, that his books may be dra atised from time to time , but that his plays themselves will never take root with us . I t is with a very judicious fear of our entomo logical public that we claim for Dumas a supreme place as a master of the art of narrative True, “ him the Swinburne goes further, and acclaims king of story-tellers ; and a poet -critic in many respects akin in taste to the author of “ Atalanta M in Calydon held a similar opinion . Oliver adox Brown once wrote to his father in great perturbation R G . as (D . ) ossetti h had several long dis

- eussions with me on the subject of novel writing. Thackeray he will hardly hear the name of George Eliot is v ulgarity personiﬁed ; Bal z ac is

- melodramatic in plot, conceited , wishy washy , and

D e man dull . umas is the one great and suprem , ” the sole descendant of Shakespeare .

M r M . I n reply to a letter from ourselves , W.

3 1 8 L I FE A N D WR I TI N G S OF fu rther delay to face a comparison as inevitable in D the case of umas the novelist, as was that with

Hugo in the case of Dumas the playwright. The — — t wo names in the ﬁeld of romance are linked together inseparably by talents , time , and circum stance ; but until recent years the ordinary English critic would not admit of any degree of equality

n between the two . I t is no doubt an act of dari g on our part to presume to disc uss the relative

two merits of the men , as if the Frenchman could

’ seriously challenge the Scotsman s supremacy . Yet

u we venture to s bmit that, generally speaking, the two writers , as masters of the historical romance , W stand on a level , and that Sir alter, superior as he is in some respects , has been excelled by his pupil

- in the art of story telling . I n claiming this point for our client we own

’ n that we should have no e of that client s sympathy .

’ we D u ma s s Scott , as have said , was teacher, and

u the j nior never wearied of expressing his praise , his gratitude , and reverence for the older writer. “ ” “ h e w M é a Scott , rote in his moires , had a gre t inﬂuen ce on me in the early days of my literary life ” I n another book he analysed the causes of ’ u : e his master s s ccess , thus To the natural qualiti s of his predecessors Scott added knowledge specially acquired ; to his study of the hearts of men , he added that of the science of popular history ; A LEXAN D R E D UM AS 3 19 d re a z n owe d with arch eological eal , a quick discer ing eye, and the power to reanimate , his genius conjured into a new existence a past epoch , with all its manners , interests and emotions . ’ D saw umas one of Scott s weak points , but dealt with it very pleasantly and tenderly . “ “ Scott, (he says in his H istoire de mes “ Béte s had his own way of creating interest in his characters , which , though with a few ex ce tio ns w p al ays the same , and though at ﬁrst a little disconcerting, succeeded none the less . This method was , to be wearisome , mortally wearisome, often for half a volume , sometimes for a whole volume But duri ng this volume he placed his characters , and gave such a minute description of their appearance , of their mental status , of the traits of their individuality ; one knew so well how they walked , dressed , and spoke , that when at the beginning of the second volume one of these characters found himself in some danger, you ex

‘ ’ claimed Ah , here s this poor limping chap in Lincoln green—how on earth is he going to get out of And then our author goes on to set his own f ’ method o narrative by the side of Scott s , of course to the advantage of the latter, declaring that Sir W alter gives you the best dishes last

o and the worst ones ﬁrst , so that one rises fr m 3 20 L I FE A N D W R ITIN G S OF the table delighted ; but that he himself reverses the process , leaving the guests to go out on the ’ - house tops and revile the stupid cﬁef s bill of fare . w D But it was another thing entirely , hen umas thought of Scott as a possible pattern for himself, in the self- imposed task of writing the history of

France in romance . I n two important respects the genius of the younger man broke away from ’ his teacher s style . “ The qualities of Walter Scott are not dramatic “ qualities , he declared . Admirable in the por tra al o' f y manners , costumes and characters , he was completely unable to paint passions . The only ’ ' romance of passion amongst his novels is K e nil ’ ’ worth . M y analysis of Scott s books taught me to see the romance from another point of view to that familiar to us in those days . The same w ﬁdelity to manners , costumes , and characters , ith

r a brighter , more natu al dialogue , and with passions

- — that were more life like these appeared to me to be what we needed . I n course of time Dumas applied these beliefs of his , enormously aided by the experience and

f - Th e discipline of ﬁ teen years of play writing. w result we kno . ’ M r One of Sir Walter s most fervent admirers ,

Lang, has underlined much that we have already i u r mplied , and tho gh he probably ranks Scott highe

3 22 L I FE A N D WR I TIN GS OF

D although treating umas critically, as becomes one ’ sitting on the judge s bench, does not hesitate to set the Frenchman , in his peculiar talent, above

Scott and all others . ” “ His best work , the professor declares, has remarkable and almost unique merits . The style is not more remarkable as such than that of the dramas ; there is not often or alw ays a well -de ﬁne d t plot, and the charac ers are drawn only in the

u broadest outline . But the peculiar admixt re of incident and dialogue by which Dumas carries on the interest of his gigantic narrations without weary

h is n ing the reader is a secret of own , and has ever been thoroughly mastered by anyone else .

An American critic, emancipated from any super stitiou s n feeling concerni g Scott, has put his opinion f “ in blunt and unmistakable orm . What is it, C “ D to asks Professor arpenter, that endears umas ? n us The conve tional answer would be , the ex

of citing character his plots . And his plots may — well be called exciting . No other author except

z — Sienkiewic , who learned the art from him can match him there . H e is better reading than Scott ; for there are , as a rule , no elaborate essays, no dull dialogues, no stupid characters, satisfactory only to the antiquary . The characters act and talk ; but they talk only to make the act more

. telling The whole moves quietly, rapidly, but A LEXAND RE DUM A S 3 23 withou t unnecessary haste ; every scene is to be enjoyed as it passes ; and one is impressed through out by the power that the author keeps in reserve ” for each of his climaxes . D I n short, although umas found his inspiration ’ e in S cott, the style of the Fr nchman s romances f was essentially dif erent. H e wrote with a lighter, bolder touch . H e got rid of all the impedimenta h ’ whic baulked the Scotsman s speed . H is books contain little or no background ; he is not con cerned with scenery ; still -life h as no attraction for hi m. Nor do his heroes indulge in the torments of mind which assail the old - fashioned E nglish hero : they simply speak and act .

Nothing, however, can be so instructive as a test -comparison of novels by the two romancers “ say Waverley a nd Les Trois M ousquetaires . Take it as granted that it is a story’s ﬁrst h ’ duty to be readable, and t at one s attention should be sei z ed as quickly as possible ; and

- a with this common sense f ct in mind , dip ﬁrst into the Scottish and then into the French romance . “ Waverley ’s ﬁrst nine chapters are devoted suc ’ i l t ce ss ve y to an in roduction , the hero s birth, his

- education , his day dreams , his appointment to the

army , and his departure from home, with a de ” “ - scription of a Scottish horse quarter, a manor - h . e ouse , and again , the manor house You hav 3 24 L I FE A N D WR I T IN G S OF now 0 et reached page 4, and you have not y “ M begun the story . Turn then to the ous

u q e ta ire s . You have a couple of pages of

u introd ction , which go to paint the character — of the hero ; and on the third the story the — plot begins , and with it the interest . Your sympathies are at once enlisted on the side of ’ ’ D A rtagnan by the Unknown s cruel behaviour toward him ; your curiosity is aroused by the ap parent mystery surrounding this same Unknown , by the theft of the letter , and by the vision of M iladi . The political intrigue has begun , also and all in the ﬁrst chapter . D f umas saw clearly that dialogue was the li e , the vitality of this style of story—the dramatic romance . I t seems a truism now to say that the best insight into the characters of a book is gained by hearing them speak but the old - fashion e d novel relied upo n description to convey these impressions ’ to the reader s mind . Now we live in an era of “ suggestion something is left to one ’s imagina “ ” - - tion , and the old steel plate engraving style is dying out in ﬁction as in art . I t would be foolish to carry the comparison any u f rther . Scott possessed powers beyond the reach D of umas , and each writer must be judged accord i n g to his aims and nature , and the materials at

n his comma d . Few can appreciate both writers,

3 26 L I FE A N D \VR ITIN G S OF — S cott succeeded in spite of his style or lack of i — t . but his successors , one and all , died of theirs

u There is no need , we think , to labo r the point

’ as to the Frenchman s inﬂue nce on present-day romance , if our readers will apply a simple test, and R keep one or two dates in mind . ead ﬁrstly one of Scott’s imitators—some romance of the thirties or l forties, and note the rare and stilted dia ogue , the

inte re st~ the padding, the lack of ﬁre , of human tawdry dreariness of it . Then , after half an hour “ M at the ousquetaires , let the reader take up

’ sa M r W e man s some modern romance , y one of y ,

” ’ Th e R D r D efugees , by oyle , or Anthony H ope s ”

D . de Simon ale This subject , we are aware,

a w serves hole essay , but for all practical purposes the object lesson we have suggested will be su fﬁ

n w cient to carry convictio ith it . W e are told that the inﬂuence of Dumas can be E “ traced back as far as smond , the scene of the breaking of the sword being suggested by more ’ de than one like inci nt in the Frenchman s romances . Of the many au thors who have beneﬁted by a study

con tvmf w of the great , one has ackno ledged his indebtedness . This is Bret Harte , whom one would scarcely have expected to experience such an i n “ fl uence . He testiﬁes to having received the sacred spark whilst reading D umas—the burial

D e a k r of ant s in the s c , in particula , having power A LEX AND R E DUM AS 3 27'

ff “ . ff fully a ected him The grandeur of e ect, the

a simplicity of the means, the absence of all p ff ” parent e ort , caused me an unspeakable joy . In after years he gratefully took the opportunity w D of proclaiming how much he o ed to umas.

The spirit of our author lives to this day , if M ’ M r . . W A E ason s recently published story , C lementina , be any criterion ; and a more recent and more striking example is that of M axime G orki , who , though a sombre realist in tempera G D ment , was led on to read ogol and umas when all other literature was distasteful to him . Forth with the Russian was sei z ed with an ambition to

h O write . The fact t at the ptimistic romancer could awaken emulation i n a nature so widely different is a strong proof of the vital power of his talents . But the modern writer whom Dumas most stro ngly impressed was Robert Louis Stevenson . C n k f This Sidney olvi ac nowledges, in his pre ace

’ ” to his friend s Letters . “ The debate , before his place in literature is settled , must rather turn on other points , as whether the genial essayist and egoist or the romantic in ve ntor and narrator was the stronger in him whether the M ontaigne and Pepys elements pre vailed i n his literary composition , or the Scott and

— a s D u mas elements que tion , indeed , which among 3 28 L I FE AND W R I TI NG S OF those who care for him most has always been at issue . Although Stevenson could not fail to make use of his great knowledge of D umas for his own ends , being a man of originality in talent , we seem to ﬁnd traces of the great Frenchman here , ’ there , and everywhere in his admirer s stories ff subtle e ects , twists of the plot, picturesque situa

z tions , chivalric touches , gusts of bree y freshness — all Stevenson , and yet instinctively familiar to the lover of Dumas .

To our master of narrative , those literary adorn ments of which nowadays we are so dispropor ti nate l o y proud were not entirely lacking. He — possessed in supreme degree a third quality wit. I t was this which rendered his dialogue “ brilliant and “ unapproachable —dialogue “ of which the quantity would be the most remarkable point , if its quality were not equally remarkable . Echo M w ing Professor Saintsbury , Brander atthe s adds, D dialogue such as none but umas could write . ” H e was witty without effort and without end .

This gift, as we have seen , made the quadroon the king of Paris and the most delightful com

m useu r a r excel l ence panion, the p in print ; it made

- comedy writing easy to him , and the telling of short stories a delight to reader and writer.

But the companion quality of wit, which is yet so

’ f n D u mas s rarely ou d in conjunction with it , was

3 3 0 L I FE A N D W R I TI NG S OF

f are almost orgotten , even in France . H is travels , “ which discovered Europe to the million , have been imitated so often that they have paid the

- penalty of their s u ccess and become common place . The literary pendulum swings from romance to realism and back from realism to romance ; at Z present ola and his school prevail in France , and to a great extent throughout Europe and America . “ ” G on Dumas heartily disliked naturalism . The “ courts tell us that when he read M adame “ Matt de Bovary he cried , I f is good , all that

’ ” we ve written since 1 83 0 is wo rthless ' But the “ ” - novel to day is , on the whole , better written “ a dve n than the romance , and even in ﬁction of ture psychology plays an increasingly important part.

B ut with the mass of readers these changes, these fashions of the moment, have little weight . I n the h igher strata of society Dickens and Dumas are as d ’ ead as last year s novels ; amongst the people ,

u - u untroubled by ltra intellectual q alms , those de s is d s p e author ﬂourish shamelessly. As the stress of daily life grows more acute , as the great primitive instincts of our nature s become more and mc re obscured in the complex duties of civilised society , the more likely shall we be to t u rn with relief and

O s gratitude to the welcome ptimi m , the refreshing

s n simplicity , the engros i g charm of the two great A LEXAND R E DUM AS 3 3 1

a nd th e for writers , books which they devised our delight. I t is acknowledged that Dumas is one of the amusers of the world , even by his detractors , who appear to think that to amuse is easy work , requiring

n neither skill nor effort , deservi g neither recognition

. i s nor praise (I f the amuser born , not made , the rarity of the species is perhaps accounted for . ) I s this power so small a thing ? “ They say that D ” umas has amused three or four generations , “ said jules Clare tie ; he has done better : he has

u s consoled them . I f he has shown humanity more it generous than is , do not reproach him for that “ he has painted it in his own image . Old folk “ blessed him , wrote jules janin , for he made easy the path to the grave ; the women called upon him to aid them against their sadness , and the young ” “ men swore by the romances of their poet . All our hospital patients recove r or die with one

’ of your father s books under their pillow, said / “ a surgeon to Alexandre Dumas ﬁ s . When we wish to make them forget the terror of an approaching operation , the tediousness of con valesce nce , or the dread of death , we prescribe

’ one of your father s novels , and they are able to forget . One great poet and great sufferer has left his appreciative gratitude on record 3 32 L I FE A N D W R I T IN G S OF

“ f an 72m For six years , wrote H eine to his / , I

- D have been bed ridden . uring the worst part of the time, when I was suffering the greatest tor ment , my wife read your romances to me , and that was the only way in which I was enabled to forget my pains. Thus I have devoured them all , and sometimes during the reading I have exclaimed What an ingenious poet ! W hat a grand fellow this D umas is ! ’ Certainly after Cervantes and

M S cha ria z adame , better known as the sultana

z Schehera ade , you are the most amusing story teller I know . W hat fluency ! what ease ! and h ! what a good c ap you are Truly , I can find but one fault in you : that is modesty . You are too G ! modest . ood gracious those who accuse you of boasting and swaggering have no notion of the greatness of your talent ! Nor are these “ amusing books ephemeral in their charm ; there is , in despite of critics , some thing more than merely an hour’s entertainment ’ i n Du mas s romances . Their particular qualities h ave been thus defined by D r Garnett : “ Dumas stands out as the first among the truly e minent novelists of the world for exuberance of prod u ction To class him thus is to assign him

a a high place . Exuber nce implies a vast

n fertility of invention ; animated , impassio ed style ; and more particularly great facility in dialogue

3 3 4 L I FE A N D WR ITI NG S OF mere scene - painting for a background and mere

-ﬁ u re s lay g for actors . Professor Carpenter sees evidence of the “ stay ing power in these books , and does not hesitate to sa y so . I ﬁnd one explanation of the deeper effe ct these “ volumes make on me , he writes, in the fact that D umas , recklessly as he apparently wrote, and in w headlong haste , has someho managed to build his characters out of genu inely human material . He seems to tre at them like the veriest puppets ; they wear their hearts on their sleeves ; and yet neither the creations of Scott nor of Shakespeare are more

W u truly alive . ith women he was less successf l ; h u M a r u eri te t o gh g , the queen of folly , the gracious ’ D i a ne d e Al onsorea u Comtesse de , and the proud

C/za rn y, are wonderful types of womanhood . But ’ D A ta na n A tka Pa té are . r s r os his men men g , , ,

A ra i t L a M l m s Ch ea H enri l V . o e and ; , , , ” ’ ' ' ’ Coconnas B u ss a A méozse B al sa mo P/zzl z e d e , y ; , pp ’ — Ta verna Gzl éert y, and not to mention others these are as solidly and ﬁnely imagined as any characters in literature . H ow the author could have produced them we may never cease to

r wonde ; but they do exist . He lived a foolish life ; and he wrote in haste ; but he wrote from his ” cl a i rvo a nt heart , and his heart was by nature y . And he adds in concl u sion A LEXA N D R E D UMA S 3 3 5

m t Such are the considerations , in y judgmen , which raise Duma s above the ho rde of vulgar

e . romanc rs H is fame, like his genius , is not

c r academic , and the criti s may p aise him with onl y

al a a h f a he rt, but his gre t public will be none the w orse . One who reads him will pas s the word to another ; and ea ch wh o knows him will be a better m a n .

inall M r v, w F Lang sees, beyond the mere po er

s D u of amusement posse sed by mas , a p hilosophy t and an e hical inﬂuence .

In h is C all he does , at best , as in the hevalier

’ ’ d H arme nth al h as a , he movement, kindness, cour ge , and gaiety. H is philosophy of life is that old philo

a sophy of the s gas and of H omer . Let us enjoy

t he the movement of the fray , faces of fair women , the tas te of good w i ne ; let us welcome life like a m s istre s , let us welcome death like a friend , and — w with a jest if death comes ith honour . That his works (his best works) should be e v en still more widely circulated than they are ; that the

n u n n you g sho ld read them , and learn frank ess , ki d

—s ness , generosity hould esteem the tender heart , wit and the gay , invincible ; that the old should

a ﬁnd or e of u read them gain , and f g tfulness tro ble ,

r i s w we and taste the anodyne of d eams , that hat d ” esire .

V ” \ e h a m h e u D s a ve ore t an onc d bbed uma gre t, 3 3 6 L I FE AND WR I T I NG S OF

and possibly the reader has smiled to himself, or registered an inward protest at the time . And yet a threefold proof can be presented in support of

s the tremendou adjective .

To our thinking, the very reason advanced by many critics for refusing greatness to Dumas offers one of the strongest presumptions in favour of that “ claim . There is perhaps hardly such another “ D r G instance , says arnett, of a man with so little moral or intellectual claim to rank among ’ ’ el zi e n the of letters , taki g so high a place upon ” m W e the literary Oly pus . ( have neither time nor space to do more than register a strong protest “ ’ respecting the immorality of D u mas s claim to “ f . intelle c literary rank , and pass on ) I n erior in tual power to his principal contemporaries, his instinct is often truer than their reason .

R s n oughly peaki g, great writers may be divided into two classes—those whose work is based on reason and process of thought , and those whose u tterances are prompted by instinct and inspira tion . We refrain from suggesting instances of what we may call the “ intellectual ” writers and the spiritual writers ; neither quality can claim to

th e be higher in itself than other , and some great men , like Shakespeare , possess both . The one type of mind tends to produce logicians , political

- economists , problem novelists and playwrights , poli

3 3 8 L I FE A N D WR I T I N G S OF

? natured scorn . Will it be believed When the standard authorities were consulted on the ques ’ ! tion , they conﬁrmed the romancer s view Dr G I t would seem that, according to arnett , D “ umas was great in some respect , and by virtue

w W e D of some high po er . presume that if umas is “ high on Olympus ” he has some right to be

: there and if his is not the greatness of intellect , what form does his genius take ? I t must surely be a quality equal in calibre to that of brain power , and there we are content to leave the matter . ’ Another of D u mas s claims to the rank of

great is pithily put by Hayward . “ A title to fame , like a chain of proofs , may be cumulative . I t may rest on the multiplicity and universality of production and capacity . Dumas will thus take rank as one of the three or four most popular and gifted writers that the

France of the nineteenth century produced . Brander “ M atthews takes the same view Even more re ’ markable than the range of D u mas s work is its general level of merit . H e had at least one element — of greatness an inexhaustible fecundity . H e adds “ regretfully W ith his great powers one feels that he ought to have done something higher and

: no nobler that he had great powers , admits of D cavil . All who love umas and appreciate his ALEXA NDRE D UM AS 3 39

h work will ec o this sentiment . Dr Garnett makes the same point when attributing to the Frenchman “ a v t fecundity rivalled by ery few novelis s, and a standard of meri t equalled by none who have ’ Du mas s approached productiveness . \V e ﬁnd a thi rd reas on for the faith that is in u s in the fact that so many great writers have proclaimed

i n so u n Dumas great, if not many words, still , a mist kably. I t is not simply the ordinary reader ’ who is astounded at the romancer s charm and resourc—e , wit and skill ; the front row of the stall s —the principal men and women writers of u as \ his day applauded him j st heartily . Ve could W ish noth ing better than that the rea der

th e cal should compare respective ibre, and worth, ’ of our author s eulogi sts and detractors . For in addition to the great names we ha ve al ready quoted “ there were others as loyal in their acclamatio n “ as Charles Reade himself. I have an opinion of ” human things , wrote Lamartine , poet and historian

o I have none on miracles : y u are superhuman . — — M y opinion o f you it is a note of exclamation ! People have tried to discover perpetual moti on you hav e done better : you have created p erpetual astonishment “ ’ ’ w s was E r e s H e as not France , he not u op ,

’ he was the world s ! crie d H ugo ; and he “ ’ ’ ’ ’ ' ’ Ce u z! se me e est Z zaee it was who wrote g , 3 40 L I FE A N D \VR IT IN G S OF

' ra n F pa zse. H e has indeed taught French Swin and the French to the whole world . ’ “ burne writes of D umas s excellent heart and ” “ b rilliant genius ; Stevenson would not give a chapter of old Dumas for the whole boiling of Z ” s. z ac ola Bla e de Bury, a sober critic , well q uainted with the literature of his nation and the t “ grea writers of his time , declared that if there

can be said to have been a French Shakespeare, D it was umas . H ugo , who imagined that he was descended from the Eliz abethan poet in a direct

line , had far less claim to such parentage than D umas . The most illuminating tribute to our ’ author s geni u s was without doubt that of M ichelet “ ’ M zrne . e vou s a the historian onsieur , he wrote , j ’ ' ‘ ’ et e vou s a a mzre a ree ue vou s el es u ne aes orces j , p q f ” de [ n tu re a a . This is strikingly true : there was

something great, something primitive , elemental ,

D n about umas, which explains at once his stre gth “

w . and his eaknesses H is virtues were colossal , “ Dr G says arnett , and he had the defects of his “ “ qualities . The mixture of white and black blood produced a phenomenon of physical strength and energy in General D umas ; a combination of physical and mental energy and strength in Dumas “ pere ; and the strain survived to give us a re markable instance of intellectual capacity in Dumas

3 42 L I FE A ND W R I TI N GS OF

ﬁnish , but they are highly interesting . H is novels

u . contain nothing ideal , but m ch that is enchanting

Had he taken time for reﬂection , he would have W produced some perfect work . ith such great

rapidity this was impossible . H is creations are

meteors when they might have been stars . Here

we ﬁnd a poet of a wonderful imagination , of an

extraordinary power , fallen in the mire of the Parisian streets ; punished for not having con

s ide re d life as a reality, art as a religion , genius as

a ministry, the world as a tribunal , and history , that ” conscience of humanity , as a j udge . M I n an oration full of feeling and eloquence , . Edmond About pronounced a formal eulogy on Dumas at the unveiling of the statue in Place

M r aleshe bes in Paris , in “ M This statue, said . About, is that of a

wh o great madman, , into all his good humour and

u t r astonishing gaiety , p mo e true wisdom than there

u n i n r all o f is to be fo d the hea ts of us here .

I t is the likeness of a prodigal who , after having

1 Thi s monument owed its origin and completion t o th e loving admira ion wh ich th e rea romancer h as so en era ins ir d t g t g lly p e .

A . M . i ard a ra e e r h ad ch eered so man of h is h ours of en or d V ll , t v ll , y f ce ’ idlene ss with th e compa ny of d A rtagnan and h is innumerable com rades ha h e set on oo a sch eme to reco ni se u i , t t f t g p bl clyand per ’ etuall th e a u h ors ame and wor \Vh — p y t f th . —en th e commi tte e a re resen a i e one u of i us rious name s was s i a k i n p t t v , f ll ll t t ll l c g th e ’ mone for the scu or s a our Gus a e Doré th e a r is offered o y lpt l b , t v , t t, t “ ” o th e work i era for o e. d , l t lly l v

3 44 L I FE A ND W R ITI NG S OF

of his is o ne ible . And the lesson greater books

a v fi e e o . e by which the world may well h pr t d Lov .

e o a v a l u the a c honour,—fri ndship , l y lty , o r , old chiv lri virtues these were his da rling th e me s ; a nd h e tre ate d them with a combination of e ne rgy and

o f e a nd o fe e a e s s insight, good sens g od ling . of m nlin

e a a ha s a e of mind and beauty of h rt . th t r nk d him " h a e s e fa o rs th e ce with t e gre t t ben ct of ra . “ ]! ma V ille me s sa nt a if We y we add , with , th t ’ during Dumas s long ca re e r th e re a re som e ih cide nts which one ought to judge . se verely we sho uld p as s them by in s il e n ce no t only out of respect for the g re a t name wh i ch he ha s l eft to

e u e a s o a French lit rat r , but l out of sym p thy with

e e e e d id t e a and the xc ll nt h art which so li tl h rm ,

s o o o wrought such an e normou am u nt o f g d .

o u r e a e It has been aim throughout . to l v the praise we fain would spe a k to come from the

s e the e a a as mouth of oth rs , who would do pl s nt t k

a nd be to the e s e c more skilfully, listened with r p t

e u We a re which their r p tations can command . aware that as a re s ult c ritics may dub us co m “ - e o r a e r. a s e n tlu pil r, book m k l l d we tol " o u r a r e ackno wle d thunder of utho iti s , omitting g

o a o - we m a s e d ment and qu t ti n marks , ight have p s

e e ve e e e d o r e dis for b ing very cl r, v ry conc it v ry

e e fe r e o s e honest . W pr r d t p a k by the mouths o f ’ e s t a s D u ma s s e a o n others, the better to bli h r put ti , A LEXAND R E D UM A S 3 45

and to let the captious say what they choose. “ it What matters to the artist, so that the work be done ? ”

Yet we , too , have a word to say . The great me n have spoken their glowing periods by the

- grave side , and turned away . Before it is too e late we, who hav lingered behind, crave the right

a to come forward , take last leave of our old r f iend, and

” cas at h is fee one ﬂower h a ad t t t t f es away.

- - Stevenson has said , . half stoically, half bitterly, that an author must look to his pleasure in writing as the only reward for his work . I f this be

we have true , , already received our best pay for our labours . Nothing that may happen to this book can give the author the pleasure which he has found in the preparation of it . With every d ’ ay s research his wonder, respect and love grew “W ! " and deepened . hat a man to love he thought ; ! and then , How this man was loved ’ Du mas s That , we believe , was the secret of success , of his lasting popularity, and of his great G ness . H e was , like Fielding and oldsmith , a man f “ who won affection without ef ort . I f any man could be Ioveable , in the true sense of the word ,

—h e that is , made to be loved was that man, so wrote one who knew him well and intimately ; and 3 46 L I FE A N D WR I T I N G S OF indeed all who knew him seem to speak of him with full hearts , almost with tears in their eyes , so fond and affectionate is their remembrance of the man . From the famous great ones who treated him as their equal , to the servants who strove to save him from his generosity, to the very dogs he D rescued , umas earned love from all , by giving it , A generously and without thought of return . heart such as his will outlive many a cleverer brain . “ e su is tou t en al e/i 07 3 j , he once declared , in laughing self disparagement . True , most of his vices , and some of his virtues , were on the surface , easy to be seen . But it would be truer to say of him that his was so transparent a nature that the sun of life shone through it, and that l ike a precious

n sto e, its rays were reﬂected in myriad sparkling

ﬂashes of joy , gaiety, kindliness and generosity . The ﬂaws were there ; but there is no doubt this was a genuine diamond “ ’ ' ’ ’ a zme u i m a zme l j q . I t was his motto, that ine “ 5 ° from the Proverb I love them that love me . n Lovi g the world , cheering it in its wretchedness , brightening its hours of leisure , giving to it fully of his wealth of gaiety and wit , he failed at times

n to keep the respect of the more prosaic, a d was delivered over to the mercy of the envious . But

who those have loved the people , the people never

3 48 L I FE A N D WR I TI NG S

Be i t so hen —h ou th e corn e d rich in ﬂowin o den rain , t t , ﬁ l g g l g

S i mus se th e d s ason come a ain t ll t e gla dened reapers i n th e e g , R eap th e h arvest th ou h as t grown

B e h ou s i th e ri h th e wondrous s ar wh ose i h al l men t t ll, b g t, t , l g t sh r a e,

Sh inin on su reme ma es i c in th e s udded h ea ens h ere g , p , j t t v t , — — Di stant splendid and unknown 1

W or hen for th e comi n a e s h a sh a h o d th da s so dear k, t , g g , t t ll l y y

S ri e and e s i a nd suffer i ke some a ncien ro h e —seer! t v , t t fy, , l t p p t Th ou th y onward course sh alt keep

Ca m and eace u i ke th e Rh ine h a rand ol d ri er. To th ri n l p f l , l , t t g v y b k

Let al l na ions come and ra e u of th ﬂowin curren drink t , , g t f l , y g t , ’ Twill be sti ll as clear and deep

W or h en ree wor u nce asin . I wi wa ch e side th e a e k, t , f ly k g ll t b g t ’ W h a care I wh a o h ers h ink me ? F or I know h a s i e h eirh a t t t t t t, p t t te,

Soon or a e ame wi be mi ne . l t , f ll But to day my place i s h ere for I th e pious duty claim ’ H ere to s and to uard rom wron a a h ers or and ai r nam t , g f g f t gl y f e, A s i t were a sacred sh ri ne

F rom the F rench o A l ex andre D umas ( f ﬁl s.)

3 5 2 A PP EN D IX A

— “ 1 har ani sh i i Le Batard de au eon. 3 64C l es V . Sp C v l M l — War French interposition un r u s li de d Gue c n. — V e de Ba iere. 1 389 Charles I . H is i nsanity Isab l v The feuds of th e Burgundians an A rma na d g cs. i ur 1 41 5 Ag nco t . “ h z s s ] harl es V I I . c e e 1 2 2 Char es V I I . and A nes Sore C 4 l g , " rands assau tra e tc. g V x (

gedy) . - n f e hanne 1a uce e 1 42 9 3 1 Joa o Arc. J P ll r i (ch on que) . 1 L ui X I 46 1 o s . “ 1 47 7 Charl es the Bold of Burgundy Charles l e T emerai re

s ain th e i i o ra h . l by Sw ss. (b g p y)

r483 Charles VIII .

1 498 Louis XII . i I “ i h r5 Franc s . F eld of t e Cloth of Gold -The R efor

mati on etc. is 1 s r and ranc . A canio. 1 540 Cha les V. —F - Ca ais a en L s D ux i 547 59 H enri I I . l t k e e Diane and — “ from th e E ngl i sh War in Le Page du Due de

- th e LOW countries. Savoie ( 1 555 5 7) ’ ” - is I I an 60 ran o . d ar L H orosc0 e 1 559 F c M y p . f (Quee n o Scots).

1 560 Charles IX . 1 1 5 7 2 h assacre of St Barth olomew s La Reine r Ma got . ijve .

r 1 5 74Death of Cha l es. — “ - m 1 5 7489 H enri I II A ssassinati on La Da e de M onsoreau ’ — of D uc D A njo—u Death of and Les Q uarante m c H u i n nri St e ri et . u eno C H e Trois M g , g t q i War t Sa our dram a h o c s. e C a C t l ( ) . “ ” - V —Th war f n i I . e s o H e ri I V i r h 1 0 H e nr . o a 1 89 1 6 (b g p y) . 5 — the H oly League E dic t of c N antes, et . A PPE ND IX A 3 5 3

1 6 1 0- 2 8 Loui — s XI II . Richelie u Lc Com e de ore t M t, ” Ca tur of La R “ “ e och e e etc. La Co om e Les p ll , l b , ” T roi us ir s Mo queta es. “ (See also Les Grands H ommes en Robe-de

- — 1 6 60 Louis XIV 43 . Mazarin La Guerre de s Femme s — “ The war of th e Fronde Col ( 1 650) and Vingt ans — ’ ” b ert and Fouque t T h e king s Apres (th e Fronde ) l “ oves (De la—Valliere and d e Le Vicomte de Brage Montespan) Th e M an in l onne ( 1 660) La ” th e Iron as tc. s d LOUIS X IV e eune se e . M k, J i (come dy) ; Lou s X IV . ” et son Siécl e (his r to y) . 1 08 Old a f i — l n ir 7 ge o Lou s Marriage Sy va d e. —with Mada me de M aintenon De a h of L uis X IV t o . ’ 1 7 1 7 Th e R egency of the Due Ch evalierd H armenthal ’ D rean am r o l s. (Ce ll a e conspi racy) and U ne Fill e du ” “ R ent La R é ence eg . g h is r ( to y) . - m 1 2 2 Th h f ui O e de C e es. 7 7 9 e yout o Lo s XV. ly p l v ’ 1 6 h L uis 7 5 T e Se ven Y ears War o XV. et Sa Cour n c his r Ca ada won from Fran e by ( to y). th e E nglish ’ - s m 1 7 70 74Last y ea rs of Louis XV. Le M é oires d un M e ” r i n ri u cin Cou t e s e tc . de . t g , “ 1 Dea h f oui T am t o L s . Le es ent de 7 74 XV t M . ” h au in C ve l . “ i XV I —Th o i r de l a i n 1 u e affair f h Le e R e e . 7 74Lo s . o t e C ll ’ q uee n s nec klace ” 1 8 T he R e o u i on I n énue Louis XV I et 7 9 v l t . g , . l a Revol uti on hi s or ( t y) . 1 8 Ta in of th e Bastill e A n e i ou Th e 7 9 k g . g P t Taking of th e 3 5 4 APPEND I X A

’ “ 1 1 The Ro a amil s attem ted La Com esse de Ch arn 7 9 y l F y p t y, ﬂi h r m r a R oute V a t o ance e tc. L de g f F , h r renne s ( isto y) . “ 1 E ecu ion of i and Le Ch e a ie r d e aison 793 x t Lou s XV I . v l M — “ M arie A ntoine tte R eign of R ouge 5 Les Blancs Terror Th e R e o uti on et l e s B e us and v l , l from Valmy and Jemappes Blanch e de Beau lieu to th e a f R s i rr Le Doc eur M stéri f ll o ob e p e e. t y ” “ eux an d La Fille du M arquis N inety ” three (h istory) - — “ 8 r n La an e ice 1 7 9 9 F e ch in Ital y Conquest S F l . and s f lo s o N aple s. 1 799- 1 800 T he Di rectoire La Le s Compagnons de — “ Ve ndee R ise of N apoleon Jehu and Les Blancs — l us R o a ist cons iracies et e s B e . y l p . l — 1 80 1 N apole on in Egypt Siege of Le s B lancs et l es Bleus

A cr tc s c nd ri s . e e . e o se e , ( ) ’ ’ r nf r 1 80 5 N apole on s Continental Cam Le T ou de l E e . ai n and p g s.

8 1 2 Th e R ussian E i i n Le a i aine Ri chard. 1 xped t o . C p t — “ ” “ ” u i I a r 1 8 1 4 Lo s I I . Th e H undred B c on e C isto. XV— l k, M t Days R e turn of N apoleon

r m f o E lba. Wa N a o éon histor 1 8 1 5 terl oo. p l ( y)

N apoleon (drama) . a h of L i X and De t ou s VIII .

A ccession of Charles X . u i n f u i is Th e R e v ol t o o J ly D eu d pose. r e s f i e s t E n an ha . o d C l X l gl ,

Loui s h i i e in . P l pp , k g ’ “ The Duch esse de Berri s Les Loaves de Mache n couL Second Ve dee .

3 5 6 APPEND IX B

arria e wi h d e I a rri M g t M ll . d Fe er Residence i n I taly roduc ion of n aria XV P t U e M ge sous Loui s . Voyage with Loui s Napoleon Production of Les Demoiselles de St Cyr Finally reje ct ed by th e A cadémie " “ P ublication of Le s Trois Mousquetaires and Monte Cri sto 1 844 T ra e s in S ai n and a n h coas of A rica 1 6- v l p lo g t e N . t f 84 7 ’ O enin of Dumas s Th ea re the H is ori ue e ruar 1 8 p g t , t q F b y 47 “ Ope ni ng of th e Pal ace of M onte Cristo J uly 1 847 S econd Republic : D umas a Candidate for th e Chamber of Depu ties ’ Cou p d etat Dumas leaves Paris for Brusse ls “ ” R e urn to ari s : the ou s ue aire ounded wi h t P M q t f , t um s i r n hi n ri u N 1 8 D a as E d o a d C e Co or ov. 1 2 t f t b t , 53

isi to E n and M a - une 1 8 V t gl y J , 5 7 T ravels in R ussia and th e Caucasus 1 8 5 8 - 9 ’ Jo ms Garibaldi s Sicilian E xpedition M ay 1 860 Stay in N apl e s 1 860 -64 Ret urn to Paris 1 864

Tra e s i n G e rman ran or e tc. : a er the Prusso v l y (F kf t) , ft A ustri an War 1 8 66 Lectures at th e H avre E xh ibition 1 8 68 Se iz ed with ill ness 1 869 T a en to u s near Di e e liis Son 1 8 0 k P y , pp , by 7 Dea h he re Decem er 1 8 0 t t b 5 , 7 B r o e i r — r h is on a 8 2 ody e m v d to V lle s Cotte e ts by S M y 1 7 . Un e i i n of th e S a ue to Dumas in th e ace v l g t t , Pl a esherbes Pari s N o e m er 1 88 M l , v b 4, 3 APPEN DIX C

‘ ‘ ‘ ' s o r xs i w Di n a/i s on 1\ I I R IB l . l 1 Boo UTED ro l l l M , wm i TH E IR

‘ ‘ i l A ’l ‘ l -S o r l u i i u cA ri oN AND REM A RK S on

- ' ‘ T l l E l R \ u ru ru ri c n v.

11‘ is al most impossi bl e for any stude nt of Dumas to compile a i l e ctl c \ hausti \‘ e and acc bib i o r h r pc v urat e l g ap ical list of his wo ks. ' ‘ l h e v u ish ed some in Pa ris some in Brusse s in ar in p bl , , l , v y g ’ orms and ith di tl crcnt i e s and the woi ks of re e re nce a ai a e f t tl . f v l bl fo rour m ose are inc m i e n th l i iblioth u i n e o e e . e c e N a o a p p pl t l v q t l , ‘ m r .u is h as not a co e e se t of h i s n o s. But forthe use o h e l . pl t k f t o r iuai t nde r h o o win tab Wi b ua It is d ) e t e f ll g l e ll e found adeq t e . ’ ‘ ase d on the i s of l l ui nas s n orks as i e n t a mann-l ev b l t g v by l y, 1 the au th oi i sed u i shers wi h one or two addi ions and is p bl , t t , ‘ ‘ re p e d h u nt the no es a tl orde d b G linel airan a nd ne nu d p p t ) , l Q , ' n o i i n io n s 1 1 i supple me nted by th e i f nt su pplied in Duma s v. ous auto io ra h ica wri in s and i n th e bi o ra h ica s e ches o n Dumas b g p l t g g p l k t , d b our ou n research e s a nd in orma ion ri a e su i ed e tc . an y , f t p v t ly ppl s For th e comme n s re s e c i n the e nuinc ncss or o her to u . t p t g g t “isc of the bo oks the wri er is o f c ou rse solcl v res o nsib e t , , p l , although in most cases h is opinio n is that of the majou ty o f the d a wi h th su ec F r th ii n i sn tia l c u t i e s wh o h av e e lt t e bj t . o e con

‘ ' a d i a i t s \ en i e nce o f those book s m r or n r ly ac cs i ble i n E ngl i sh are printed f" {ra i n s! and to faci l i t at e rcfc i e n ce th e i c h wo i ks are given in alphabet a l rat er than cli ronolOgical

o rde r.

h ee n ind s i d era of th da es a e u e M . M Se v l e t v b k ly ppl by .

- Cal inann l m .

o s the on ones not i nc ude d T h o s e b o k s i n rtxl thus are ly l in th e ( alumna l N ) s et tes 3 5 8 A PPE N D IX C

H I A W K ROM A N CE S AN D AUTOBIOGRAP C L OR S.

A Y E R O F ' N A M E OF BOOK . R E M A R K S re A um z u rl crrv, E TC. PUBLI CA T ION

’ ain Dumas s b ut ro a M ly , p b bly ni h e an assis an ﬁ s d by t t.

A ma m P Wri tten . eurice jy ( ) by P M , ’ probably u nder D umas s

supervision. “ A nge Pitou (or Tak For explana tion of the abrupt W i ing th e Bastille end see Part I II . e bel eve that thi s b ook i s sole ly ’ ma D u s s.

A scmio D umas in co a ora i on wi h , ll b t t r c M eu i e . ’ tur d ur Dumas T his o ume a so con Ufze /Iwn e A mo . v l l “ ” “ tains H erminie or Une ”

A maz one .

Les A ventures ti e /01 m Stated by Th ackeray to b e h alf D av : Ori ina h a deri ed rom an y g l, lf v f r anonymou s wo k . ’ h r f Sie frie A ventures ae Lyderi c T e sto y o g d. See “ La B oui ie e tc ll , . Le Baard de au eon I n co a ora ion wi h a uet t M l ll b t t M q , h wh o ﬁnish ed t e romance. Bl ack 1 8 58 ’ s 1 86 -8 - D mas a or on ain Les Blancs e t l e 7 9 P u s l st w k . C t s “ ” e Th i h h rusad Bl us e E g t C e . La B ouil lie ti e [a 1 8 air ta e for ch i dre n 44 A f y l l . Cam/usse B ert/w o owed in Cal mann- Le F ll , vy, “ ” A n ures de L d ri c by ve t y e . La Bou le de Neige 1 853 Written by D umas from M ar h n l in T e S owbal l sky . ’ - — B rzc d B rac I 86 I Fugi tive pape rs and autobio “ ra hica mems g p l . UmCadet de Famill e 1 860 rans a ion at th e direc ion of A t l t , t ’ D umas of T rel a wn , eys Ad ven ures of a Y oun er S n t g o .

3 60 APPEND I X C

' ' N E r RE A R S re A urnrzurxcrrv ETC. A M o Boox . M K , * umas N ot a ai a e ei h er Le Com/e de M ore! 1 866 D . v l bl t i h i n French or E ngl s . “ - mas a one See Mémori es La Comtesse de 1 853 5 Du l . ’ ” u cin Charny d n Méde . La Comtesse de Sa lis 1 83 9 First chapt erﬁ ction ; the rest a r m re c/zrorzi zce of histor bu y e g y . Les Conf essi ons de [a 1 85 7 Part of a version of th e “ [Marquise Mémoires de M adame d u ‘ ” D e fl an N o D um s t a . d. by ’ Conscience l I mzocent 1 853 Written by Dumas on the basis ” or [E n/ant of some chapters i n H endrik ’ ‘ ” Conscience s onscri fC t. * Crimes Cé e res 1 8 - 0 Underth e editorshi of Dumas l b 39 4 p , and most of th e article s wri en him S ar tt by . ( ee P t

6 Dumas La Dame de M on 1 84 , with the assistance of “ “ hic th e a uet See Les uaran e soreau ( C ot M q . Q t ” “ Jester Cinq . N ot a se q uel to La ” R ein r e Ma got. ro h La D ame de Vol upté 1 863 F m t e Mémoires de M dlle . " de Lu n s n i t y e . U l kely o be D m by u as. ux Diane 1 8 6- It i s said at m Les De 4 7 th Du as, in a l etter wri tten to M eurice in 1 8 6 i es that ex-c o a 5, g v ll b oratorthe entire h onours of thi i s h storical romance . H e probably dictated th e ot h ow r h am e e . T e s e pl , v “ no doubt applies to Le a e dc Due a P g de S voie . “ 1 864 Seque l to La Dame de ” o u t V l p é. “ 1 8 2 Dumas Se u 5 . q el to Le Trou ’ ” de l Enfer. {PPE N D IX C 3 61

N a m; OF Boox. RE M AR K S re A urnrtxrrcm , in c.

Dumas u ish ed in oo . P bl b k rm See fo posth umously. “ ” M r La Fille d u a quis . “ 1 86 ue La San e ic 5 Seq l to F l e. E mma is Lad H ami on y lt , on wh ose rep uted M e moirs D umas i s said to ha ve based th e wor k . “ emm i 1 8 1 Dumas . er H La F e au Coll er 5 Aft offmann. de Ve lou rs

aim H . N ot D umas . Cl ed by u r A ge . “ Seq ue l to Le Docteur M ys ” téri eux.

’ Une Fill e du Regent Du mas with H aque t s assist

an ce.

’ f ' t [6 E YS d” E i a Dumas in coll abora ti on with

s a n anonymous a sis ta nt. Les r es “i th F er Corses Undoubted ly D umas .

- L. is ound th is (i n C . ) b ’ ” Oth o l Arch er.

Gabriel La mbert E i her as ed on act as all e ed t b f g , or o n a story su pplied to D u mas . A ttri bu ted by some to M al le l uch more ro a fil e. M p b bly ’ by Dumas wi th M all efil le s assi s a nc t e. ’ La Guerre des Pem 1 8 4q-6 Dumas wi th M aquet s assist n an ce mes (N ano ) . 1 868 Du mas cha tin on ets ser t g p , ant tc wi h me au o s e . so v , t t i ra h i ca isod b og p l ep es. ’ H istoi re d tm Casse 1 844 Tran slated and adapted fi' om i . ' ’ H ofimann book of Jl l /15 5 178 s that

name. 3 62 APPEND IX C

E A R O F ' Y RE A R S re A ue N rrcrrv. E TC. N A M E o r Boox . M K Puau ca r i ou . ’ ions of L H omme aux Conte s 1 858 Collecti on of translat fairy-tales from other l an

guages. ’ L H orosco 1 8 8 Li e more han a ra men pe 5 ttl t f g t, um b ut undisputably D as. 1 8 0 D umas ro ab i n co a ora 7 , p b ly ll b “ ” tion with an assistant wh o knew J uma Said to h a e een 1 8 54 D s. v b wri en W i h a ue but th i s tt t M q t,

i s unli ke ly . a a m 1 8 Li e more han a ra m n I sa c L quede 53 ttl t f g e t. S o ed " th ens t pp b e C or. ' D u mas s wn o work . I sabel de B aviere 1 8 6 series of scene s se ec ed 3 A l t , dramatised and vitalise d with ’ dialogue from B arante s H i stoire de s D ucs de Bour ” n r n a io goy e. T a sl t n out of rin p t . 1 8 rans ation said to be 39 A t l , by iorentino of a wor U o F , k by g s Fo colo . 1 859-60 Said to have b e e n gi ven to Dumas : ce rtainly n ot by him .

1 86 rom th e R ussian of M arl insk 3 F y. “ Contains also U ri coup de “ feu and Le faise ur de ” cerceuils (both also from th e R ussian ). a 1 Dum r Les Louves de M che 859 as. P obably with an l assi st cou ant. adame de Clza mb/a 1 8 6 Dou u M y 3 btf l . A ttributed to Octave e ui e F ll t.

La M aison de Gl a ce 1 860 Trans a e d rom th e Russi n l t f a .

3 64 APPEND IX C

' A T H E N rtcrrv arc. N A M F o r Boox . R E A R S re U M K , Olympe de Cleves It is asserted that Maquet was a coll aboratorwith Dumas in

this wor . If so h is share k ,

was small .

Le Page du Due de 1 855 See Les Deux Diane . Sav oie P a risi ens et P ro in D u mas i n co a ora ion with v , ll b t

f i a t/x th e Comte de Ch ervill e . “ un Pascal Bruno Dumas. Bo d with Paul

ine (C. ’ m t r Le P asteur d A s/zbourn N ot Dumas . At os e by , writt en by hi m from an E n ish s or or a German gl t y , s r wi h an E n ish l oca le to y t gl . i rs indica i n a Pauli ne D umas. F t t o s p peared in h is Swiss Impres ” a sions de Voy ge . Le P are 1 860 Chicﬁ if not en ire transla y, t ly, tions of fairy tales from orei n au h ors in roduced f g t , t “ by Le Li evre de mon rand ere o d to D umas g p , t l h r i ne s or by de C e v lle . O t y which bears the undoubt ed ’ stamp of ou r authors styl e is ” La J e unesse de Pierrot . Le Pere [a R ai ne 1 860 Probably written with de Cher V i lle . a Le Pri nce des Vol eurs N ot Dumas . Prob bly trans and R obi n H ood [e l ations of some E ngl i sh

[ 1 05 67 17 stories. n o La Pri ncesse de Al o N t by Dumas . Th e title a co page announces the book as ” recueilli par A lexandre Dum as.

La P rincesse H ora T rans ated rom M arlinsk l f y. APPEN DIX C 3 65

‘ ' Rmu n xs re A UT HEN H CI IT , 1 1: Pvu uca n ou . ’ Les uaran e Cin 1 8 8 Dumas wi h M a ue t s assist Q t q 4 , t q T h e ort - iv Th c udin or F y F e ance. e con l g p ” uardsm G en ) tion d i ctated to his son. La R eine m This ar ot 1 8 D u as with a ue . M g 45 , M q t ar ueri e of oo has no se u M g t b k q el . Val ois El Sal téador In a prefatory note to th is ’ “ (In Dent s edi ti on romance in th e M ousque ” Th e Bri and tai re Dumas disa ows th e g , v rth e ess i t au th orship. N e ve l is probably by him and one ’ of his prentices

Dumas wi h Boca e. See , t g " Les M ohicans de Paris. r H is La Sa n F elix P oved to be by Dumas . onl y long untrans la te d l owed romance. Fol by Emma Lyonna and ’ Souvenirs d un Fa ” vorite. A coll ection of short stories by Du mas revi ous u l ish ed — , p ly p b 4:alled after the he ro of the M ons la An on p y, t y urin in one of h e m ﬁg g t , “ ” Le B a ! Al as ué T h e g . Oth ers are Le Cor/ter dc ” “ abr Blan che de C iolet, " “ Be au li eu (or Le R ose Rouge Cﬁem éi no et ” “ ” “ Cel e B erna rd D om sti ni, ,

“ ” Le Curl Cba mﬁard. Of the

un translated ones Ch ry

' ' ” bzno ct Cel estim is th e most 3 66 A PPE ND I X C

Y E A R ‘ N a m; or Boon. R an/rank s re Auru mrrrcrrv. e rr. Puau ca r tou .

' Souvemrs D ramafigues 1 8 68 Colle cti on ofarticl es by Dumas dra matic criticisms essa s on , y th e theatre and the Sta e t , “ i ncl udin Wi iam e tc. , g ll ” “ Sh a es eare M on Od s k p , y ” m die Fran aise see al a Co é c , “ and a report of th e special ” commi ssion of 1 849 (of which Dumas was a mem b er) on th e questi on of th e c ens shi or p. ’ Souvenirs d un Favori te 1 865 See La San Felice and ” n E mma Lyon a. ’ Sultane tta 1 859 Du m: s s version of a Russian s or rlin k t y by M a s y. ’ uma i h nc Syl vandire 1 844 D sw t M aquet sassista e. ' La Terreur Pr usszmne 1 86 7 Th e th read of ﬁction i s only s i ht Dumas treats chi eﬂ l g . y of Frankfort during the Pruss -A ustri n War f 1 866 o a o .

Le T estamen de . 1 86 1 D umas and art autobio t M , p ly ra hica This o ume in Chauvelin g p l . v l - . L a so contains D C . l on ” Bernardo de Z uni ga. ’ L s Trois M ous ue 1 8 Dumas with M a uet s assis e q 44 , q t it ance unded on our i s ta es . Fo C t l ’ “ d e Sandraz s Mémoires de ’ ” D Arta n n Se ue s g a . q l “ ” Vingt Ans Apres and Le c m Br l nn Vi o te de age o e. ’ Le Trou de ZE n er 1 8 0-1 Dumas ossi wi h Gérard f 5 , p bly t - de N erval or some other ’ prentice acquainted with m “ G er an . Se ue Dieu y q l, ” ’ di s ose ro a Dumas s p , p b bly

al one.

3 68 APPENDIX C

‘l ’ N A E A R S re AUT H E N T C T Y , E TC. or BOOK. RE M M g u K I I Puii fig ic . for a series Les Gra nds H ommes en Part of a sch eme R obe-dee ﬁambre biographi es of great men 1 857 -8 from th e earliest to the latest i d wri en rom a new H enri I V. 1 6 er o 86 p , tt f

' Lams XII ] et 1 866 oin of iew. , p t v ' ' R zeizel zeu

' kl ozre des B ourbom 1 86 ri ina wri en in Ita ian E 3 O g lly tt l , a o i I Borboni di N p l . ’ ' ’ ' “ E irzozre ae Lams 1 852 or H ist oire de Dix-H uit Ans ( 1 83 0 publ i shed in 1 853 “ a ain L e De rni r 1 and g , e R0 . l es H ommes de F er 1 867 A republi shed collection of studies of é in Charl ~ P p , e

ne e tc. mag , ’ [ta/tens e! Fl amanas 1 846 Appreciative sk etches of ain ers—Andrea del Sarto p t , Bot icel i H o ein Dii rer t l , lb , ,

etc. e tc.

e/zamze 1a P ucell e 1 8 2 A chroni ue of oan of r j 4 q J A c. “ et - rs of a seri f l ouis XI V. Son 1 8445 The ﬁ t es o bistori cal eras which ended with “ ’ ’ th e Drame de 9 D umas s most important historical

work . is X et sa Cour 1 8 The series ontinued l ou V. 49 c La

R nc r nin ége e i nte ve g). ' Lam X V et l a 1 8 0-1 Ditto : o owed th e as s ] . 5 f ll by l t of evol u t on th s ri R i e e e s, 1 845 Should be read i n connection “ ” with Trois Maitre s and I a ie ns t amand t l e Fl s. ’ ’ ’ Memazres dc Garibaldi 1 860 A n account of Garibaldi s ex loits i n A meric p S. a, written by Dumas from materials ‘ aﬂorded Gari aldi hims by b elf. Mémoi res de Tal ma 1 850 Written by Dumas from ma eria s e t Ta m t l l f by l a. APP EN D I X C 3 69

E A R 0? - N A E or BOO . Y R E r Auri rm rcrrv are . M K MA R K S e , PUB LICA T ION . ’ M émoi res J H oraee 1 860 N ot now accessibl e in English or r ch F en . N a oleon 1 i p 83 9 A p cturesque biograph y . “ l a R é m ee s n Sibcl e . g 1 849 See Louis X IV . et o ’ R o te de a e 6 or i V s ﬂi h t i n La u V renn s 1 8 0 St y of Lou s X I . g 1 1 7 9 . 1 0 N ot r tw r wor Con 84 a t us o th y k . tains l ength y extrac ts from ’ “ ” Scott s A ot etc . bb ,

' Trozs M a itres 1 862 Th e th ree mas t ers are Mich a e l

A n e o Ti ian and Ra hae . g l , t p l See I ta liens et Flamands ” and Les M edicis .

T RAV ELS

’ a Une A aee aH orenec See Le Midi de l a France . ’ ' ' r b r a B i L A a ze H ai c re y H aji abd el H am d B e y. ’ P ubl i she d by Du mas s assi s t

ance.

' ' l es B a l ezmers Th e trave ls of Dr Fe lix M ay nard u lish ed m D u as . , p b by

' ' [ e Cap zta zne A rena Account of a voyage ro und

Sici etc. See Le S eron ly , p

are.

Le Ca uease Sequel to the R ussian I m

pressi ons.

' Im r n f Wri e n l e Corrzeol o p essio s o Naples. tt wi h i r nti n t F o e o.

‘ ' a r x Le t ers rom S ain descri i n D e P i s a Cadt t f p , b g ’ Dumas s our i n 1 8 6 See t 4 . ” Le Véloce . Bel iu and th hin E xcu rsions sur l es g m e R e . Pos

rd: da R /zi n sibl wi th Gerard de N er a B o y v l , ’ D umas s companion. 3 7 0 APPEND I X C

Y E A R or N A E or Boox. RE A R S re A UT H E N T C T Y E T C. M B M K I I , PU LICA T ION . Un Gil B l as en Cali 1 8 2 u ished Dumas with an 5 P bl by , o f introduction by him.

m re w Le u I p ssions de 1 860 Follo ed by Ca case. ’ en R ussi e and 65

’ ’ I m ressi ons ae Vo a e 1 8 Dumas s rst oo of tra el p y g 3 3 ﬁ b k v ,

' en S uzsse th ought by many to be his est b . ' ’ ’ M emozres azm M aitre 1 840 Classiﬁed by Cal mann-Levy ’ “ ” s r umas i d A rmes a t avels. D ed ted ’ his friend Grisier s impres

sions of St e ers ur etc. P t b g, Th ere i s a sligh t element of narrati ve. ' ’ “ Le jlﬁ az de Ia F rance 1 841 Fol lowed by Une Année a ” “ Florence and La Villa i ri This oo c n Palm e . b k o “ cl udes with La Chasse au ” Chastre.

D m s N otes on B raz i ian Un Pays I neomzu 1 865 N ot u a . l ra h e r h an t ve l by anot d. Qui nz e /ours ou Si m : 1 839 Written by D umas from notes Baron Ta or and draw by yl , i n s a g by D uz ats.

e S erona re 2 Im ressi n i i Wri en L p 1 84 p o s of S c ly . tt wi h th e h e of ioren ino t lp F t . “ Followed by Capitaine ” ” Ar n L orri l e a and e C co o.

’ Le Véloee 1 848 Account of Dumas s vi sit to T an iers A iers and T unis g , lg , “ c u to D e aris a et . Seq e l P i ” Cad x . i G La V e au D s r 1 60 im l i n f R . é e t 8 S p y a transl at o o . ’ Gordon-Cumming s book on the adventures of a lion h unter in ri a Af c .

3 7 2 APPEND IX C

— - T m I arri r ich L am ire . La B e e de . e o e X I I . C p V — — l y V — T m I mu u a un Louis X IV . Le o Ro s. L e esse de e X X . l J ar ri r M b e . —’ int T om . L n r i La Tour Sa e XX a Co science. L O est e.

c ues Ja q . ’ m XX — l n —L In i n al a va se To rr u vi tat o . e L Le Ve o de a Rei e. l Les ore stiers F . —’ — ’ l i Tom X xI l L H nn u i i L Roman d E v re . e . o e r est sat s a t e f . ’ ’ L E nvers d une conspiration. T —L n i h mm la nta u —La Dam ome XX II I . e Ge t l o e de M o g e e M n de o sore au . — — T m I . L hi n i a ri am er o e XX V es M o ca s de Par s G b e l L b t . m XX — — T o e V adame e ham a Le s B ancs et l es B e us. M d C bl y . l l — ’ Sim e s e res sur l A rt dr ma i u pl l tt a t q e . ” ” aure adds : Les rere s Corses and au ine b ut here i s (M l F , P l , t f i r i r no record o th e publ c p oduction . ) E DI A PP N X D .

Li sT OF BOOK S CON SU LT E D m TH E PREPA RATION O F T H IS WORK

— T i i E following list gives only the names of those authorities from ' m n orm l who i ation has een o a ined t .e re resen s a out h a f b bt , . p t b f the books actually consulted

o m n ma A ut Ed ond see onume t aA . Du s b , ( M “ ’ " ’ A sso ino A Courrier d autrefois L l nde ﬁenda aee B ei e N ov. l , . , ( y g ,

“ udeb rand P . Dumas al a aison D r. A . A O , , M “ Ban i e The odore de M es Sou enirs. v ll , , v ” des unam ul cs u s O F b q e . ‘ " Beau o i r R o e r de Sou eurs de M on T em s wi h re ace v , g , p p , t p f by A umas . D . ’ - B l ackwood s l l/ a asi ﬂ c 1 8 2 i nc usi e. g , 3 5 7 l v ”

wn i r ado . H In ram B ro O e . , l v M x , by J g . “ de A Dumas sa i t m s son oeu r B ur H e nr B az e . v e son e e . y , y l , , , p , v “ ’ m une 1 8 n Wi Dumas s no ar en er G. C. F oru o e s C p t , , , J 99, ll v l ” last ? “ ” “ aste ar E mi io B ron and oth erE ssa s A exandre Dumas. C l , l , y y ( l ’ ” hambers s E nc c o aedia e dition of 1 868 . C y l p , m E ar ic e on Du as r W. H en e . N ew edition ( t l pe e by . l y) ’ Dumas has es Philaréte ortrai d A . . C l , , P t ’ ' ‘ - herbul iez oe Ii evue Cri ti ue oer Lzvres N ouvell es 1 8 o 0. C , J l, q , 3 5 “ ’ m u our h ui l e Du as a d . Ch incho l , C. , j ume n aA Dumas Claretie . see on , J ( M t

i . nscience H . Le Conscr Co , , t ’ ” Arta nan emoirs of Cour i s de Sandraz . D g , M , t l ’ m aris n f h o D Auriac . Co o o t e r mance wi E . p th r the Mémoi es. 3 7 4 APP ENDI X D

’ kwood s D Arta nan Th e R ea Sir H . a we Bart. B l ac g , l, M x ll, ( M a az i ne une g , J ’ Dash Com esse émoire s d autres. , t , M “

A i d t en W n . Deschane E . e e a o l, , p g h Li r ure D owde n ro . E . renc e a . , P f , F t t “ ” D u Cam a ime Sou e nirs Lit éraires. p, M x , v t “ D umas l e Le i l s N aturel reface I n roductor l et er to ﬁ , F (p ) ; t y t ” Le's Trois ous ue aires e dition de u e 1 8 see a so M q t , l x , 94; ( l n m n a A Dumas Mo u e t . “ ” “ D umas are A u o io ra hica wor s— M e s émoires Sou p , t b g p l k M , ” " — ” “ veni rs Drama i ues Cau series Bric a-Brac Les t q , , , ” “ or s ont i e Les Gari a diens etc. M t v v t , b l , m nc R o a es.

r T ave ls. H i rica u i s sto l St d e .

Plays. ’ m e rr Ga rie Les D ernieres Années d Al exandre Du as. F y, b l , ” i m i n A . om d es et o d e s. ioren ino . C é C é F t , P , i ra i ur f A an r d Ad en es o e de D m s. z e d P. L e an u a F t g l , , f v t l x Garne t Dr Ri ch ard I ntroduc ion to T h e B ack T u i t , , t l l p “ ’ ” Gau ier T heo hi e H is oire de ar Drama i u e t , p l , t l t t q ; ” ” man ism B e s mm s ari du Ro t e ; lle Fe e de P s.

l i ne l A . Du mas : N o es i o ra hi ue e i i ra hi u G C t o e . , t b g p q b bl g p q “ mun an u rn Goncour E d d d es ou a . t, J l , J l “ - mmin R h Gordon Cu . C. T e Ad en ures of a Lion H unter in g, , v t ” Sou th A frica . “ m n mi 1 8 Goz l an L. Al a ach Co ue 8 : ar ic e on th e Cha eau , q , 4 t l t i ” M onte Cr sto. “ m l D i r L s Ar e s e t e u . r ac A m e e Du as. Gr sie e e . , l (P f by ) “ ” A rah am Bio a hic E s H a ward r a sa s D uma . . A . s y , b , g p l y ” r h e r nch a H e ine H . Le e s on t e S e . , , tt F t g “ ” i an . w W. E e s d R e iews H e n e . l y, , V v ’ Les h ommes d l xil ” u o C. e E . H g , , m i ” . u H ugo V a Té o ns. Les on e m i n H u o V . C at o s. g , , t pl ’ ' - r n 1 8 6 . L l ll ast a tzo , 4 7 “ A andr Dumas. anin . e e J , J , l x

8 7 6 I I ’I ’E N D IX D

“ s h s mm ni i n Swin urne A . C. E sa s C ar e Reade Co u cat o b , , y ( l r to th e write . ” “ W - M . aris h R un u rs Thac era . S e c Boo o da o t a e k y, , P k t k b P p “ ' ’ A ea of Be s Let ers to the R evue B n ta mu ue ( P l ll t q , 8 1 47 . “ Trelawri e A d en ures of a Youn er Son. y, v t g ” n m m a da A . An E n ish an in aris V , , gl P . ’ V m ssant il le e émoires d un ourna is e. , M J l t “ ” Wa . m r si . e A B . a h ouse I es ons lkl y, , Pl y p “ W i s h e s . T a r l Le e e et es Mmurs. , 1 J t I NDEX

’ ’ For ( D umas s dramati c Worles ree Pl ays for Ms ot/zer Wrztzngr " War/cs see .

Ch a eau riand 66 1 62 1 0 26 t b , , , 9 , 5 Ch r e bul i ez . 1 1 2 6 , J , 9 , 6

A BOUT E . 1 0 1 1 1 2 2 1 Ch e rvrl l e C o mte de 2 2 1 2 , , , 47 , 99, 47 , 9 , , , 49, 5 , 54 hinch o l l C e , C . , 242 ' L A mi ra l E mi ie Cordier 108-1 0 C ho e ra vm tation 62 ( l ) , l , ,

A sse line A . 1 lare tie C . 1 , , 37 , J , 33 - A udebrand P. Comédie F i a n aise 2 8 1 2 , , 97 c , 9 , 3 , 37 , 5 ,

A u er H . 1 8 6 86 1 18 1 2 g , , 9 551 9 1 1 1 7 1

“ Conscie nce 11 Le Conscri 2 , . ( t 39 B Coo e r F e nimo re 2 1 1 1 p , , 4, 57 , 9 Cornei e 1 2 -8 6 1 2 1 1 1 6 ll , 9 , 7 , 7 , 7 , 3 , 5 BA LZ AC 1 1 -8 1 6 1 2 1 2 , 47 , 57 , , 9, 74,

Ban i e T de 82 1 v ll , . , , 35 Baran e 6 1 1 86 1 88 t , , Be i um D umas s our i n 1 D A M E A UX CA M ELi As LA 1 lg , t , 7 , , 44 Beran e r 1 1 2 1 62 2 6 1 1 g , 7 , 9 , , 5 , 3 3 3 4 ’ Be rri D uchesse d c 6- D A rta na n M a we o n 2 0 1 , , 4 7 g , x ll , ’ ’ ” D A rl a nan M t mu i res dc 2 0 1 - g , , 5

Bi andes ( i . 2 8 Dash Com esse 2 , , 7 , t , 7

Bre H a r e 26 Da de l a Paillete rie M ar uis A . t t , 3 vy , q ,

Brohan M d e . 1 1 2 1 6 6 ( ll , 4 4, ' Brusse s D umas s s a i n - De acro i 2 1 1 l ( t y ), 945 l x , 3 , 59 , 9 ‘ Br ce l rof. De a i ne C. 2 6 1 y , , 333 l v g , , 5, 3 , 7 5, 3 3 - Bu oz 2 1 8 D e Le u e n A . 1 6 1 2 1 1 2 l , 5, 5 9 v , , 7 , 9 , 4, A 1 1 M lb b d 0 6 1 2 Bur B . d e 2 8 1 1 6 De 1 y, , 9 , 9 , 4 , 43 , 4, r 1 35! 5 ) 591 42 59 1 l l 2 2 ' 2 2 6 1 49v 57 , 45r 43 1 1

00 ° D escha ne E . 3 ; 337 , 34 l , , 95

B ron 2 2 6 60 1 0 D ick e ns C . 1 0 y , 3 , , , 4 , , 57 , 33 Dor a M arie 0 2 a 1 0 v l , , 5 , 5 , 54 , 94, 7 5

C Dowde n Pro . E . 2 8 , f , 7

Do l e 8 11 A . C 2 2 2 6 y , 7 , 3 - - 1 Du Cam M . 1 1 1 2 6 1 2 1 R PE N T E R C . 206 2 1 1 2 0 CA , G . , , , 4, p, , 45 , , 3 4, 4, 2 6 2 2 9 , 3 : 334 Cassa nac G d e 1 6 2 82 vu D umas g , . , 3 , , f Cas e ar E 2 00 2 86 2 1 1 1 [ l /5 2 6 8 [0 t l , . , , , 9 , 3 3 , 34 1 351 39 1 57 1 7 ; 7 ) 3 7 9 1 hafTau It ( 111 2 - 1 1 6 1 1 2 1 2 1 - 1 2 - 1 2 -6 1 2 - C , , 9 3 , 34, 7 , 3 , 3 3 , 4 , 5 4, ' Ch ambe rs s E nc clo i mdi a 2 -6 iii 1 6 I l ' 80 2 08 2 1 0 2 y l , 7 5 , v 5 1 7 3 1 77 1 ) 1 47 1

Char es X . 2 6 0 2 6 6 1 2 1 1 l , , 34, 4, 4, 4, 9 3 ; 3 51 33 , 877 3 7 8 IN D E X — Dum t risier as con i nued G , 1 92 Genera 6- 20 1 6 1 8 1 8 G uiz o 8 1 1 l , 4, 9, , 9, 7 , 5, t, 4, 7 247 ! 34° - Louise Cessette , 4, 6 M adame m‘e La oure 1 2 1 ( b t) , 4, 3 , , 2 6 - 0 1 6 1 8 H A RE L 8 62 - 3 ! 39) 9 7 , 3 , 5 , 4 , 5 ‘ - Madame m e Ferrier 2 1 H a wa rd A . 2 2 6 2 8 ( ) , 7 3 , 59 y , , 99, 73 , 9 , 3 9, 33

m H . 8 2 0 2 Madame lr 1 and dad. H e e 6 16 1 (ﬁ ), 45, , , , , 3 , 3 3 - W 6 2 M arie Al e andre 0 2 1 0 1 2 1 H en e . E . 1 6 2 2 6 x , 5 , 7 , 9, , l y, , 4 , 3 , 43 , 7 , 1 2 2 8 2 1 2 1 iii 3 , 3 , 3 7 , 343, v Pet e his aren a e ir h 8 H omer 1 6 , p t g , 4 b t , 4, , 5 , 335 d - h -2 u o 2 6 o h oo 1 ou 1 1 H C . 1 1 1 b y , 9 5 y t , 5 g , , , 5

oes to Pari s 2 1 ear dramatic H u o V . 2 8 2 62 6 g , ly g , , 3 ' 35a 3 , 5 » , 9' 75» successes 2 -8 ﬁrs o e -affai r - 8 1 1 2 1 1 6 1 62 - 1 0 , 3 ; t l v , 945 , 9 , , 35, 5 , 5, 7 , 8- marri a e - T rois 1 2 1 80 1 8 202 2 6 8 3 9 g , 7 2 3 7 , , 3, , 7 , 2 3, ” M ous ue ai res and M on e 1 0-1 2 1 8 - 0 q t t 3 , 3 , 339 4 " Cris o 6 -8 his hea re 86 t , 7 ; t t , , - his ch a eau 80 8 - 93 4; t , , 7 , 93 4 i - e e i n Brusse s, 945 ; Le x l ” l ous uetaire 6 isi to q , 9 , 97 v t “ gu and 1 0 1 - wi h Gari a di I N D I PE N DA N T ourna 1 1 gl , 5 t b l , (J l) , 5 1 1 -1 i ness 1 20- d ea h I a ra e s i n 6 3 5 ; ll , 3 ; t , t ly , t v l , 7 1 2 uria at i iers-Cotteréts 3 b l V ll ,

1 2 . S a ue to 2 2: 3 t t , 34 J

- A C UOT E . de M i recour 8 1 J Q t 3 , 1 2 1 2 1 2 6 1 vii iii 5, 94, 5, 7 , 34, , v - ani n . 6 8 1 1 1 2 162 1 J , J , 3 , 7 , , , 33

F E RR C . 0 106 1 1 6 1 1 1 Y, , 9 , , , 7 , 7 3 , 25 5-6

F eui e O. 2 2 K ll t, , 5

Fioren i no P A . 1 6 1 1 2 t , . , 77 , , 9 ,

2 1 2 2 2 2 10 K A R R A . Les ue es 1 1 5, 59, 66, 9 , 3 , G p 9

Fi z era d P. 6 8 1 8 1 1 1 6 K ean E . 2 6 t g l , , , , 7 , 5 , 9, , , 2 2 2 2 82 i ii i x 3 , 59 , , v , F orence isi to 6 l (v t ), 73, 7 Fo Genera 2 2 2 6 y, l, , 7 F rance ra e s i n the sou h of 6 LA F A ETTE Gem 1 -2 162 , t v l t , 7 Y , , 4 , 47 , 59, F rank or i si to 1 20 La F a e e Madame de 2 0 2 10-1 1 f t (v t ), y tt ( ) , 5, Lamar ine 2 1 20 1 62 1 8 2 8 t , 3 , , , 4, 3 , 339

Lan A . 88 101 1 1 1 1 6 1 66 G g, , , , 3 , 33 , 5 , , 1 2 0 1 2 1 2 2 1 2 2 2 1 -2 99, , 5, , 7 , 9 , IL ET - 2 6 02 - 20 ix GA LARD , 63 4 9 . 3 3 . 3 . 335. - Gari a di 1 1 1 2 1 Lanson C . 2 8 b l , 3 5, 5 , , 7 Garne D r 26 2 2 n 2 Lassa ne 2 1 8 tt, , 3, 74, 79 , 33 , g , 5, 3 5 8- 0 Le a M adame 8- 335, 33 9, 34 b y, , 3 9 L m e - Gau i er T . 6 1 2 1 e co . 1 60 t , , 7 , 94, 9 t , J , 59 Girardin M adame de 8 1 1 6 1 2 00 Lec u res 1 1 -20 , , 5, , 4 , 3 t 9 ’ 8 i n 2 66- 2 x Le ion o f H onour D umas s 68 Glinel , C . , 1 0 , ss , 7 , 7 7 , g , , Goe he 2 60 1 2 1 2 -1 Le mai re 68 t , 7 , , 57 , 95, 3 3 t 59, Goncourts Th e 2 02 0 Letters fro rn D umas 10 -1 2 1 -6 , , , 33 ( ) , 9 , 45

r 2 Lou i s X V III . 1 2 6 Go ki, M . , 3 7 , 4,

3 80 I ND EX — P a s conti n u ed Sco Sir W . 2 2 6 2 8 6 1 10 l y tt, , 3 , , , , 4, Romu us 8 1 1 1 1 86 1 0 2 2 2 2 l , 9 , 54 33 , 57 . . 9 , , 54, T ui ésa 2 6 1 2 - - 1 1 -2 6 2 , 59 . 93 45, 3 3 , 3 7 , 3 7 , 334 - - La T our de N es e 6 1 8 Scri e E . 1 1 62 l , 3 4, 74, 4, b , , 7 3 5, 33 , 2 8 2 86 2 0 1 6 Shakes eare 1 6 1 2 6 2 -8 0 4, , 9 , 3 p , , 9, , 7 , 1 4,

Les T 1015 M ous ue aires 1 6 1 2 I 1 6“' 2 0 2 2 2 6 2 8 2 8 ' q t , 3 , 5 S3 ; 5 7 , 9 , 3 1 5, 5 , 7 t 1 2 (For/a l l [w of pl ays see Appendzx C . ) 3 1 1 3 340 ‘ - l oll ock W . H . 6 1 2 1 2 2 Sici D umas i n 1 1 , , 3 4, 7 , 3 , 7 5, ly ( ) , 4 2 i x Sienk i ewicz H 95, , , ’ Poe r D umas 0-1 6- 0 Soissons Dumas s e oi at 2 -6 t y by , 5 , 5 7 , 7 , ( xpl t ) , 4 2 6 -8 Son of Por h os The 2 1 22 7 t , , 4 i Po rch e r 1 1 Sou e F . 2 8 1 62 , 39 , 59 l , , , 37 , ” ' Ps ch e Le 2 2 6 S ain D umas s V i si to 8 - y , , 5, 7 p , t , 3 4 - - Pu s 1 2 1 e ens n R. L 1 2 S o . 1 68 20 8 y , 3 t v , , 5 , , 7 , 2 1 2 6 2 6 0 06 2 0 3 , 7 , 9 , 3 3 , 3 , 3 7 , 34, 345 S ones of Pari s 1 1 6 and a D t , pp.

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R ine Dumas s rave s on 1 T h acke ra \N . M . 68 1 h , t l , 7 y, , , 57 , Romand H on D umas 1 6 1 6 2 0 1 2 0 2 1 6 2 6 , . ( ) , 7 9 . . 7 , 93, 3 , 3 - - - R osse i ) . G 2 1 6 1 Thea re 86 tt , l 33 , 3 7 t 7 , 93 4, 2 8 W M . 2 1 1 Rosse i . tt , , 33, 3 7

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Rousseau , 1 29 ' Russi a D amas s our i n 106-8 ( t ),

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La F e mme au co i e r de e ours 2 ll v l , 35 " \Vaverl e 2 - F ernand I y, 3 3 4 e, 97 W M él a ni e Une F i e du Ré en 1 6 , 49 ll g t , 9 \V orks Dumas or a ri u ed to Le F i s du F or a 2 by , tt b t l c t, 49 h im Le s F reres C orses 2 2 0 2 2 , , 3 A cté 1 0 1 Gab ri e Lam er 2 2 0 , 9 , 94 l b t , A maur 1 8 Le s Ga ri a diens 2 6 y , 9 b l , 3 A n e Pi ou 1 0 2 6-8 Ga u e e t F rance 2 6 1 g t , , 3 l , A scani o 2 1 Geor es 1 , 9 g , 97 Une A maz one 2 2 UmGi l -B as e n Ca ifornie 1 08 , 5 l l , ’ Une A en ure d amour 1 2 2 2 Les Grands H ommes en ro e de v t , 4 , 5 b A e n u res de L d eric 1 Cham re v t y , 94 b A e n ures de oh n D a s 1 1 César 2 6 1 v t J vy , 9 , Le Bata rd H I V de M au eon 2 2 e nri . 2 61 l , 7 , B ack 2 8 Lo ui s X II I . e t Rich e i eu 2 6 1 l , 4 l , Le s B ancs et l es B eus 2 6 La Guerre des F emmes 2 2 0 2 2 2 l l , 5 , , La Boui ie de l a Com esse Ber h e H is oire des Bour ons 2 ll t t , t b , 53 2 H is oi re de Loui s Ph i i e 2 6 1 57 t l pp , ’ La Bou e de N ei e 2 H i s oire d u n cas se -noise e 2 8 l g , 44 t tt , 5 Bric-a-Brac 1 2 2 8 2 6 H i s oi re de mes Bétes 2 2 2 6 1 , 54, , 5 t , 7 , 5, 3 9 ’ UmCade de ami e 2 1 L H omme au x con es 2 8 t f ll , 5 t , 5 ' Le Ca i a i ne Pam h i e 1 L H orosco e 2 8 p t p l , 93 p , 4 ’ Le a i ai ne Pau 1 1 L Il e de F e u 2 0 C p t l , 9 , 5 Le Ca i ai ne R i chard 2 Im ressions d e V o a e p t , 47 p y g Ca h erine B um 2 8 2 0 E n S ui sse 1 8 2 8 t l , 3 , 4 , 9, 5 Cause ries 1 0 1 1 0 1 6 2 1 2 20 Une A nnée 1 F orence 2 , , 9 , 7 , 5, , l , 59 Les Bords d u Rh i n 2 8 2 65 , 5 Ceci e 1 Le Ca i ai ne A rena 2 l , 97 p t , 59 La Chasse au Ch as re 1 2 8 Le Caucase 260 t , 93, 5 , Le Ch asseur de S au a i ne 2 Le Corricol o 2 2 v g , 49 , 53 , 59 ’ Le Cha ea u d E ste i n 1 Le M i di d e l a F ra nce 1 2 8 t pp , 94 , 93 , 5 ’ Le Che a i erd H armental 1 D e Pari s at Cadi 8 2 v l , 95, 335 x , 4, 59 Le Che a ier de M aison -Rou e 2 2 uinz e ours au Si nai 2 60 v l g , 4 Q j , Le Co i er de l a Reine 2 1 E n Ru5 5 1e 2 60 ll , 3 , L ro nare 2 La. Co om e 2 e S e l b , 55 p , 59 m n ns de ehu 1 0 1 Le V é o ce 8 2 Le s Co pag o J , 3 , 47 , l , 4, 59 V mi e ri 2 La i a. Pa ll l , 59 Le Com e de M on e -Cri s o 6-8 In énu e 2 2 4 t t t , 7 , g , 3 3 , 5 2 2 2 Isaac La ue de m 2 8 2 33 1 45 1 74 q , 3 , 43 I sa e d e Ba i ere 6 1 1 8 1 86 Le Com e de M ore 2 b , , 5 , t t, 55 — l v La Com e s se de C a rn 2 8 2 1 t h y , 37 , 4 ac u o ns rei La Co m esse de S a i s ur 1 88 sa O es , 1 t l b y, J q t ll 94 ’ l I nnocent 1 0 2 8 - 0 e h anne l a Pu ce e 2 61 Conscience , , 3 4 J ll , ’ t Rede m ti on Le Lou i s X IV . et son Siec e 2 6 1 Cre ation e p ( l , V éri eu et La F i e Lou i s X . e t sa Cour 2 61 D octeu r myst x ll , V u is 2 2 Lo ui s X I . e t l a Revol uti on 2 6 1 du M arq ) , 4 , Les L u e d a Cri me s Cé e res 2 66 o s e M ch ecou , 2 l b , v l 49 M onsoreau 2 2 6 M ada me de Ch amb a 2 1 La Dame de , l y, 5 D i ane 2 2 8 La M a i son d e G ace 2 0 Les De ux , l , 5 - dis ose 2 M ai re A da m, l e Ca ab rais 1 2 D ie u p , 34 t l , 9 3 ' ' d e 2 6 ! Le M ai re d arme s 1 2 Le D rame 93 , t , 9 o nna 2 Les M aria es du Pére Ol ifus 2 E mma Ly , 54 g , 33 3 82 IN D EX

' ' — \V ork s —f antzu u ea W orks conti nued ’ Les Medici s 2 6 1 Sou eni rs d A nton 1 8 , v y, 45 ' M es M émoires 1 0 1 8 1 8 Sou eni rs d une F a ori e 2 , , 4 , 4, 5 , 5 , v v t , 54 6 8 I 2 1 1 2 2 Sou e ni rs drama i ues 86 1 61 3 1 51 91 57 1 7 1 341 v t q , , , 2 8 2 6 2 8 2 88 1 8 26 1 3 , 3 , 5, , 3 5, 3 4 M émoires de G ari a di 2 1 Les S uar s 2 6 1 b l , 5 t t , M émoi res de T a ma 2 66 Sul tanetta 2 8 l , , 4 ’ M émoi res d H orace 2 6 lvandi re 1 8 , 5 Sy , 9 ' M émoi res d un M édecm 8 2 28 La Te rreur Prussienne -20 2 611 , 5, , , 5 , Le M eneur de ou s 2 2 62 l p , 47 - - m 2 1 2 L T s amen d M au in Les M i l Ie et un F anté es 2 e e e . Ch e 0 , 3 , 4 t t v l , 5 Les M oh i cans de Paris 2 2 , 45 35 - M on e -Cri s o see Com e de Les T rois M ous ue ai res 6 8 1 2 2 t t ( t ) q t , 7 , , Les M or s vo n i e 2 6 1 1 8 1 -208 2 1 2 2 1 2 1 t t v t , 5 73 , 4, 99 , , 4, 7, N a oleon 2 6 1 2 2 2 6 p , 33 1 741 3 1 333 ’ N ou e l es Co n em oraines 2 1 8 Le Trou de l E nfe r 2 2 8 v l t p , 4, 4 , 34. 4 Une N ui aF lmence 2 2 La T u i e N on e 2 1 2 2 6 t , 5 l p , 3 , 34, 7 O m e de Cl éx es 2 6 Le V i com e de Bra elonne 2 0 -8 ly p , 3 t g , 7 , Le Pa e da D uc de S a oie 2 6 2 1 1 - 1 g v , 4 3 , Pa risi ens e t Pro i nciau 2 La V i e au Déser 2 1 v x , 54 t, 5 ’ ’ Le Pa s e ur d A shbourne 2 8 2 Une V i e d A rti ste 2 t , 3 , 44 , 45 Pau i ne 1 8 V i n A ns A res 2 08 2 1 2 2 8 l , 9 gt p , , , 9 Pasca Bruno 1 8 F or oth er works see A endi x C l , 9 ( , pp ) Un Pa s i nconnu 2 60 We man 2 2 1 26 y , y , , 3 2 Le Pere G i gogne , 2 38 , 57

Le Pere La Ri ti ne , 2 5 1 o La Prince sse d e M onac , 2 45 Les uaran e -Cin 1 66 2 0 2 Q t q, , 3 , 33 ’ La Ré e nce 2 6 1 Y onne Dumas s candida ure in the g , ( t ), La Reine M ar o 2 2 0-2 0 1 - g t, , 3 4 9 3 La Rou e de V arenne s 2 62 t , Le Sa eador 2 lt , 44 Sa a or 2 lv t , 45 La San F e i ce 1 0 2 2 Z o a 2 0 0 l , 3 , 53, 94 l , 97 , 33 , 34