nd still have plenty. And they never bewailed their fate: the
reverse! The proudest congratulate themselves on having been at so good
a school; and M. Auguste Maquet, the chief of them, speaks with real
reverence and affection of his great friend." And M. About writes "as
one who had taken the master red-handed, and in the act of
collaboration." Dumas has a curious note on collaboration in his
"Souvenirs Dramatiques." Of the two men at work together, "one is always
the dupe, and _he_ is the man of talent."

There is no biography of Dumas, but the small change of a biography
exists in abundance. There are the many volumes of his "Memoires," there
are all the tomes he wrote on his travels and adventures in Africa,
Spain, Italy, Russia; the book he wrote on his beasts; the romance of
_Ange Pitou_, partly autobiographical; and there are plenty of little
studies by people who knew him. As to his "Memoires," as to all he wrote
about himself, of course his imagination entered into the narrative. Like
Scott, when he had a good story he liked to dress it up with a cocked hat
and a sword. Did he perform all those astonishing and innumerable feats
of strength, skill, courage, address, in revolutions, in voyages, in
love, in war, in cookery? The narrative need not be taken "at the foot
of the letter"; great as was his force and his courage, his fancy was
greater still. There is no room for a biography of him here. His
descent was noble on one side, with or without the bend sinister, which
he said he would never have disclaimed, had it been his, but which he did
not happen to inherit. On the other side he _may_ have descended from
kings; but, as in the case of "The Fair Cuban," he must have added,
"African, unfortunately." Did his father perform these mythical feats of
strength? did he lift up a horse between his legs while clutching a
rafter with his hands? did he throw his regiment before him over a wall,
as Guy Heavistone threw the mare which refused the leap ("Memoires," i.
122)? No doubt Dumas believed what he heard about this ancestor--in
whom, perhaps, one may see a hint of the giant Porthos. In the
Revolution and in the wars his father won the name of Monsieur de
l'Humanite, because he made a bonfire of a guillotine; and of Horatius
Cocles, because he held a pass as bravely as the Roman "in the brave days
of old."

This was a father to be proud of; and pluck, tenderness, generosity,
strength, remained the fa