The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1889-12-13
DUMAS, THE ELDER.
His Egotism Paied Before His Great Big
Tender Heart.

His Egotism Paied Before His Great Big
Tender Heart.
A speech of Alexandra Dumas has
often been repeated, perhaps for the
reason that he probably often used it,
for / heard him say: ''The tripod Of
French literature today rests on Hugo,
Lamartine and me-" That he did say
it can attest to, and he was in dead
earnest. 1t was spoken outright in a
company where the literary element
was conspicuous, and was received
with hearty, good natured laugh.
For a moment M. Dumas seemed
taken aback at the way this speech
was received. He did not reiterate lit,
but stood still looking at the laughers
with an air Of amused conviction on
his face.
Let me put aside all the egotism in
Alexandra Dumas, declaring that for
special style of romance nothing
was ever written equal to his ''Trois
Mousquetaires. Those four gallant
swordsmen, Harthos, Athos, d'Artag-
nan, Aramis, stand side by side in de-
Tense of their creator If they were sim
ply DULLES, or spadassins, they would
have lowered their blades long ago.
The sparkle of their steel, the merry
clink of their rapiers, are continued in
their talk. Take page of dialogue
in this wonderful novel, and even the
outs and mons have their merit
There never is superhuous word. 1t
has all the eloquence of brevity. In
the half dozen plots that run through
the story there is no muddling; each
strand has its own distinct color, and
yet subordinate to the whole. It is
the joyousness, yet the devil-may-
care way it is done, which is SO pleas
ing. I think that more oil, candles
and gas have been consumed over
''The Musketeers" and Monte Girls
to" than any other romance ever
written.
A king of Spain, seeing a man
laughing with a book in his hand, said:
''That fellow is either reading Don
Quixote' or he is crazy" II you are
told that your son or your daughter is
caught in the act of reading some book
or other all night, you may be quite
certain it is either "The Musketeers"
or monte Cristo." AS to the latter
book, am inclined to believe it has
helped to perpetuate the idea Of treas
uro trove. Thackeray may have made
one of his characters, Maj. Pendennis,
read Paul de Kock, but the great
novelist loved his Alexandra Dumas,
and am quite certain Thackerays
taste was pure, his critical judgment
the soundest, and SO l believe what
this Frenchman wrote, twill always
delight mankind, and for the sorrow
of prigs," as Mr.. Lang neatly puts it.
Mr.. Andrew Lang, with nice appre-
citation of Dumas, has done him full
justice. What I should most like to
bring into prominence was Dumas
goodness of heart-or was it his weak
ness2 He was the most charitable
man I ever met. 1t was not half his
cloak he would have given to poor
man, but all his clothes Poverty did
not come to him; he sought It out. He
may have been lavish, but he indulg-
ed in extravagances for others, and
not for himself. All his emotional
instincts were concentrated in his SUI
preme pity. Even in the height of
his literary career, when his writings
were in eager demand and handsome
~ SdICu LUZ, haNo huoWu hliu w olt
up all night writing, not for himself,
but for the benefit of others.
Once l met him a bright spring
morning walking head up. erect,
along the Marty high road.
''You look happy, M. Dumas" ]
said.
II am. l have been up all night,
and am going to dispatch this parcel
to Paris" He tapped a good sized
packet under his arm.
'But why should you burn your
candle at both ends, M. Dumasa You
will break DOWN.
"Ah! bah Do I look SO frailY" he
asked, with merry laugh. Certain
ly he did not, for he was built like
Bagdad porter. 1.-The fact is, poor s. 3
wife was confined yesterday, and he
is clever and deserving man, but
without a sou to bless himself. He is
one of the few who never complain,
but know he pledged all his books a
week ago. Nine. S. and the child
might suffer. There must be no
gloom in that household. 1t struck
me last evening at about 10 o'clock
when / had finished a certain bit of
work, and then his and her position
and the baby inspired me. Inside the
package is an order on my publishers
to send S. at once 500 francs. That is
what a half dozen hours are worth,
not much to me, maybe good deal
to them. They will never know who
sent it, and remember you are my
conidant, and no peaching."
And with happy laugh he strobe
along.
To give to others was the passion OF
this mans life, and he gave and gave
until he impoverished himself p. in
New York Times.
Story of Violin.
Waldemar Meyer, q we'll known vi
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