ritual and commanding part
of our nature, goes to sleep in dreams. The animal terror asserts itself
unchecked. It is a theory not without exceptions. In dreams one has
plenty of conscience (at least that is my experience), though it usually
takes the form of remorse. And in dreams one often affronts dangers
which, in waking hours, one might probably avoid if one could.

* * * * *

Dumas' first play, an unimportant vaudeville, was acted in 1825. His
first novels were also published then; he took part of the risk, and only
four copies were sold. He afterward used the ideas in more mature works,
as Mr. Sheridan Le Fanu employed three or four times (with perfect
candour and fairness) the most curious incident in "Uncle Silas." Like
Mr. Arthur Pendennis, Dumas at this time wrote poetry "up to" pictures
and illustrations. It is easy, but seldom lucrative work. He translated
a play of Schiller's into French verse, chiefly to gain command of that
vehicle, for his heart was fixed on dramatic success. Then came the
visit of Kean and other English actors to Paris. He saw the true
_Hamlet_, and, for the first time on any stage, "the play of real
passions." Emulation woke in him: a casual work of art led him to the
story of Christina of Sweden, he wrote his play _Christine_ (afterward
reconstructed); he read it to Baron Taylor, who applauded; the Comedie
Francaise accepted it, but a series of intrigues disappointed him, after
all. His energy at this moment was extraordinary, for he was very poor,
his mother had a stroke of paralysis, his bureau was always bullying and
interfering with him. But nothing could snub this "force of nature," and
he immediately produced his _Henri Trois_, the first romantic drama of
France. This had an instant and noisy success, and the first night of
the play he spent at the theatre, and at the bedside of his unconscious
mother. The poor lady could not even understand whence the flowers came
that he laid on her couch, the flowers thrown to the young man--yesterday
unknown, and to-day the most famous of contemporary names. All this tale
of triumph, checkered by enmities and diversified by duels, Dumas tells
with the vigour and wit of his novels. He is his own hero, and loses
nothing in the process; but the other characters--Taylor, Nodier, the Duc
d'Orleans, the spiteful press-men, the crabbed old officials--all live
like the best of the persons in his tales. They call Dumas vain: he had