CHAPTER IV

The use of friends--_Le Musée des Familles_--An article by M. Gaillardet--My reply to it--Challenge from M. Gaillardet--I accept it with effusion--My adversary demands a first respite of a week--I summon him before the Commission of Dramatic Authors--He declines that arbitration--I send him my seconds--He asks a delay of two months--Janin's letter to the newspapers

Although great events were gathering like a dreadful storm on the horizon, and were about to take place in the midst of the miserable controversy about which we are writing, I think it is better, as we have begun it, to follow it to the end, rather than to return to it later.

M. Gaillardet persisted in his lawsuit and won it. I have mentioned that I had completely refused to second Harel in his defence. The ill-advised stars which had stolen a march upon M. Gaillardet's name were obliged to fall behind it; but, as Harel had wished, all Paris knew that I was the real author of _La Tour de Nesle._

Did this do the drama much good? I have my doubts about it; I have already expressed my opinion upon the pleasure the public takes in making the reputation of an unknown young man at the expense of established reputations. Two years went by, during which _La Tour de Nesle_ ran its two to three hundred performances. I thought no more about the old quarrel; I had only published _Gaule et France_ during those two years--a very incomplete work, from the point of view of science, but singularly noteworthy from the point of view of the prediction with which it ends--and had _Angèle_ performed, when, one morning, a friend of mine (friends are very useful sometimes, as we are about to see), came into my room when I was still in bed, and, after a few preliminary words, asked me if I had read _Le Musée des Familles._ I looked at him with an obviously astonished air.

"_Le Musée des Familles_?" I asked. "On what grounds should I have read that paper?"

"Because it contains an article by M. Gaillardet."

"So much the better for _Le Musée des Familles."_

"An article on _La Tour de Nesle_."

"Ah! an article on the drama?"

"No, on the tower."

"Well, how does that affect me?"

"Because in M. Gaillardet's article on the tower he speaks of the play."

"Well, what does he say? Come to the point."

"He says it is his best drama."

"He ought to be ashamed of himself. It is one of my best, he means."

"You ought to read it."

"What is the good?"

"Because it may perhaps have to be replied to."

"M. Gaillardet's article?"

"Yes."

"Do you think so?..."

"Good heavens! Read it."

I called Louis. The servant I then had was called Louis; he was a droll fellow whom I found drunk from time to time, when I returned home at night, and who gave as an excuse that as he had to fight a duel the next morning he must drown his thoughts. I hurried him away to Henry Berthoud, the publisher of _Le Musée des Familles,_ with a message asking him to send me the number which contained M. Gaillardet's article. Louis returned with the required number, and this is what I read

"LA TOUR DE NESLE

"One evening the setting sun lit up the sky with a purple red colour, and bordered the horizon that lay between Sèvres and Saint Cloud with a ribbon of fire; I was on the Pont des Arts, with M. de Jouy's _L'Ermite_ in my hand. Guided by the Academician, I had come there as an observer to the centre of a bird's-eye view; for this particular place is a focus where a thousand rays meet and converge. Opposite to me, the city, the cradle of Paris, with its houses piled up in the shape of a triangle, and as close to one another as a battle corps; at the head of the city, the Pont Neuf, with its ancient arches and its nine adjoining streets. To the left, the Louvre, which is no longer the old Louvre, with its heavy tower and belfry; the Tuileries, that royal _pied-à-terre,_ whose name is ennobled with the dignity of time and of the revolutions which have passed over its head; a monument of which can be said, as Milton said of Satan: 'Lightning has struck it and marked its face!' To the right, the Mint, the sole building in Paris which, together with the Timbre-Royal and the Morgue, possess a physiognomy of their own, and, so to speak, show the nature of their existence. Below, the Institut and the Bibliothèque Mazarine.

"I had reached thus far in my _circumspection,_ when my _cicerone_ (I still refer to M. de Jouy) informed me, in a footnote, that at this place formerly stood the tower of Nesle, from the top of which, according to the chroniclers, several queens or princes were forced to fling themselves into the Seine, to get rid the more surely and swiftly of the misfortune they had drawn down upon themselves. I was much struck by this anecdote. When still young and at college, I had read Brantôme and what it contained about the tower of Nesle; but the recollection of it had been effaced from my memory: it now returned to me vividly and suddenly. Assuming a twofold power from the hour and the place where I stood, it returned with redoubled force and impressiveness; it completely took possession of me.... For the first time, I detected the drama, and my first and best drama was conceived!

"There is something both attractive and terrible in this story of debauchery and of princely slaughters, consummated in the night, at midnight, between the thick walls of a tower, with no witnesses but the burning lamps, the attendant assassins, and God watching all! Something which takes possession of the soul, in the hutchery of these young men (they were all young and beautiful!) who had come there weaponless and without mistrust,... a truly royal quarry, which hyænas and tigers might envy! But I am letting myself run away in these poetical reflections, and I forget that I am, and only desire to be, a story-teller.

"Let us first speak of the building, then, afterwards, I will speak of its mysteries. At the time of King Philip, the Beautiful, and his sons, the boundaries of Paris were limited, on the left bank of the Seine going down, by an enclosure made by Philippe-Auguste, who gave his name to it. That enclosure, the walls of which correspond pretty nearly to the later towers of the Louvre, had, for their outer defence, a moat which communicated with the Seine, and took the water to the Gate of Bussy. Beyond the enclosure, were the great and little pré-aux-Clercs, so called because they were used on fête days as a promenade by the students of the university. They covered the space now occupied by the rues des Petits-Augustins, Marais-Saint-Germain, Colombier, Jacob, Verneuil, de l'Université and of Saints-Pères, etc. On this space, and adjoining the enclosure, was the hôtel de Nesle, which had a façade of eleven great arcades, with a close which was planted with trees, the end of which, on the quayside, was close to the Church of the Augustines. This mansion occupied the situation of the College Mazarin, the hôtel de la Monnaie and other contiguous sites: its spacious court, its buildings and its gardens were almost bounded by the rues Mazarine and Nevers and the quai Conti, formerly called quai de Nesle.

"Amaury de Nesle, the owner of the mansion, sold it, in 1308, to Philippe le Bel for the sum of 5000 livres; Philippe le Long gave it to Jeanne de Bourgogne, his wife, and she, in her will, ordered it to be sold, and the money applied to the foundation of a college which was called the Collège de Bourgogne. In 1381, Charles VI. sold it to his uncle, the due de Berry. Finding the gardens too small, the latter, in 1385, added seven acres of land to them, situated outside the town moats, and, in order to establish communication, he had a bridge built over the moat. This outer portion was called the _petit séjour de Nesle._ From the hands of the Duc de Berry, the mansion passed into those of several other princes and, finally, was sold outright by Henri II. and Charles IX. in 1552 and 1570. Upon its ground various constructions rose up, such as the hôtel de Nevers, the hôtel de Guénégaud, which has since taken the name of Conti; later again still, what remained of this mansion was pulled down to make room for the Collège Mazarin, now the Palais de l'Institut. At the western end of the mansion, in the angle made by the course of the Seine and the moat of the enclosure de Philippe-Auguste, were the gate and tower of Nesle, the only ones which were represented on the engraving placed at the head of this account. The gate was a kind of fortress comprised of a building flanked by two round towers, between which was the entrance from the town. This was reached by a stone bridge supported on four arches, and re-establishing the communication intercepted by the moat, which was very wide at this spot.

"It appears that, for a long time, this gate had been closed to the public; for I read letters patent of 13 April 1550, addressed to the provost and aldermen, authorising them to 'cause the gate of Nesle to be opened, for the convenience of the neighbourhood, and for foot passengers and horses only, not for the use of waggons or pack horses subject to the payment of toll.' I further read in these letters that 'the faubourg had been ruined by the wars, and reduced to arable land; and, having begun to be rebuilt under François I., who had allowed it to be done, it was one of the finest suburbs of any of the towns of France. Whereupon, request being made by the town, the opening of the said gate is allowed.'[1]

"It was by this gate of Nesle that Henri IV. entered Paris, after having besieged that side of the city, in 1589. It was still in existence under the reign of Louis XIV. Now as to the tower; it was situated some few feet to the north of the gate, on the point of land which was formed by the moat where it reunited itself to the Seine: the river bathing it at its foot. It was round in shape, was about a hundred and twenty feet in height, and overlooked the roof of the gallery of the Louvre. It was yoked to a second tower containing the spiral staircase, and was not so large in diameter, but still higher. At first sight, one would have said they were like two sisters, one of whom had the heritage of the strength and the maturity of age, and the other the lightness and graces of youth. More pointed and slender, this tower was the look-out one; more _solid_ and _staid,_ the former trusted to its strength and waited. Both were joined to the neighbouring gate by a wall, their ally, these three forming a complete whole, which faced south-west, and was continued by ramparts which, together with several other works, completed the defence.

"On the other bank, opposite these, rose the Louvre, and, in the angle between the Louvre and the Wall of Paris, was a tower similar to them, which they called the _tour du Coin._ In times of danger, an iron chain, one end of which was fixed to the _tour de Nesle,_ stretched across the Seine, and, held up at various distances by boats, was fastened to the _tour du Coin,_ and barred from that side of the river the entrance from the city of Paris.

"Originally, the door and gate of Nesle bore the name of Philippe Hamelin, their builder or their first owner, I do not know which. Later, they derived their name from the mansion, which had become important. The windows of the tower and one terrace of the mansion looked over the river.

"Brantôme (I now return to him), in the second paragraph, art. Ier of his _Femmes Galantes,_ relates that a Queen of France, whom he does not name, ordinarily lived there, 'who was on the watch there for passers-by, calling out to them and making them come to her; and throwing them from the top of the tower, _which still stands,_ to the water below to drown them.... I do not wish to say, he adds, that this was true; but the common people, the greater portion of Paris, at least, declare this; and no man so simple but who, if you showed him the tower alone, and questioned him concerning it, would say it was so.'

"Jean Second, a Dutch poet, who died in 1536, supported Brantôme's assertion in a piece of Latin verse which he composed about the tower of Nesle.[2]

"Mayeme mentions it in his _History of Spain_, vol. I, p. 560. Villon, who wrote his poems in the fifteenth century, at a still nearer date to the event, adds his testimony to it. Giving several new details, he informs us that the wretched victims were shut into sacks before being flung into the river. In the second strophe of his _Ballade des_ _Dames du temps jadis,_ he asks--

"... Où la royne Qui commanda que Buridan Fût jeté, en ung sac, en Seine?"

"This Buridan, of whom Villon speaks, escaped from the trap, we know not how. He retired to Vienna, in Austria, where he founded a university, and his name became famous in the schools of Paris in the fifteenth century.

"In 1471, a Master of Arts of the University of Leipzig wrote a small work entitled _Commentaire historique sur les jeunes écoliers parisiens que Buridan,_ etc. It will be seen that the story of the tower of Nesle had become of European fame. The queen, of whom Brantôme, Jean Second, Mayeme and Villon, all speak, was taken to be, successively, Jeanne de Navarre, wife of Philippe le Bel; next, Marguerite de Bourgogne, first wife of Louis X., as well as his two sisters, Jeanne and Blanche, all three daughters-in-law of Philippe le Bel.

But Robert Gaguin, a historian of the fifteenth century, comes forward in defence of Jeanne de Navarre. After speaking of the conduct of the three princesses, wives of the three sons of Philippe le Bel and of their punishment, he adds: 'These disorders and their frightful consequences gave birth to a tradition injurious to the memory of Jeanne de Navarre, wife of Philippe le Bel. According to that tradition, she caused students whom she attracted to her to be thrown into the river from the window of her room. Only one single student, Jean Buridan, had the good luck to escape the penalty he had incurred; this is why he published this epigram (before his self-exilement): _Ne craignez pas de tuer une royne; cela est quelquefois bon_ (Reginam interficere nolite timere; bonum est).'

"Thus, Gaguin does not contest the fact; on the contrary, he confirms it and develops it, only complaining--and not without reason--that it was attributed to Jeanne de Navarre, who did not live at the same time as Buridan. As regards Margaret of Burgundy and her sisters Jeanne and Blanche, they have not the safeguard or the protection of a date, nor of the verdict of history. All the world knows, on the other hand, that the three sisters were in other ways guilty of the most scandalous conduct; two of them had their two brothers, Philippe and Gaultier d'Aulnay as their lovers; the tower of Nesle then belonged to the Princess Jeanne, and was their meeting-place. But, one day, says Geoffrey of Paris--

"'Tout chant et baudor et leesce Tornés furent à grand destrèce, Du cas qui lors en France avint: Dont escorcher il eu convint, Deux chevaliers joli et gaie, Gaultier et Philippe d'Aulnay.'

"In fact, these two young men were suddenly arrested as well as the queen and her sisters, the princesses. Philippe confessed that he was the lover of Margaret, wife of Louis x., and Gaultier that of Blanche, Comtesse de la Marche. This confession made, says Geoffrey--

"'L'eure ne fut pas moult retraite Que donnée fut la sentence; Si furent jugiés sans doutance Les deux chevaliers de leur _paire._ D'une sentence si amère Por leur traison et péchié, Que ils furent escorchié, . . . . . Et puis entrainé et pendu!'

"Margaret and Blanche were taken to the Andelys, where they were flung, says Geoffrey, into a kind of underground dungeon.

"'Longuement en prison là furent, Et de confort moult petit urent. L'une ne l'autre ni ot aise; Mais toutes voies plus à mal aise Fut la royne de Navarre, En haut estoit; et à la terre La comtesse fut plus aval, Dont elle souffroit moins de mal, Car elle estoit plus chaudement. Ce fut justice voirement, Car la royne cause estoit, Du péché que elle avoit fait.'

"From this prison they were transferred to the Château-Gaillard, a Normandy fortress. There, by order of Louis x., Margaret was strangled with a towel, according to some, and with her own hair, according to others. Blanche was spared and divorced, and took the veil at the Abbey of Maubisson, where she ended her life. But Jeanne was even more fortunate; she had been arrested, like her sisters--

"'Et, quand la comtesse ce vit, Hautement s'écria et dit: Por Dieu, oiez moi, sire Roi; Qui est qui parle contre moi? Je dis que je suis preude fame, Sans nul crisme, sans nul diffame; Et sé nul ne veut contre dire, Gentil Roy, je vous réquier. Sire, Que vous m'oiez en deffendant Sé nul ou nulle demandant Me fait chose de mauvestie, Mon cuer sens si pur, si traitie, Que bonnement me détiendrai, Ou tel champion baillerai, Qui bien saura mon droit deffendre, S'il ovus pies à mon gage prendre.'

She succeeded, indeed, in justifying herself more or less, and her husband Philippe le Long took her back again.

"FRÉDÉRICK GAILLARDET"

There was nothing in all this particularly offensive to me; but I had been so greatly annoyed over the whole business, that I had promised myself, on the very first opportunity that presented itself, to be disagreeable to M. Gaillardet, and I did not intend to let this opportunity slip by. The occasion appeared and I seized it. I wrote, _ab irato,_ the following letter, and I did wrong. I cannot do more than confess it, I hope.

"TO M. S.--HENRY BERTHOUD

"MONSIEUR LE DIRECTEUR,--In turning over one of your back numbers, I chanced upon an article in which M. Gaillardet relates how he wrote his drama of _La Tour de Nesle._ I should never have believed that such details were of sufficiently lively an interest to the public; but, as M. Gaillardet thinks otherwise, I will submit to his opinion, and I will relate, in my turn, how I wrote mine.

"I must first of all admit that its birth or, rather, its incarnation, its earliest idea, dawned on my mind in a less sudden and inspired and, consequently, less poetical, a manner than in his case. It did not strike me on the Pont des Arts, towards the evening of a beautiful summer day, at that hour when the ray of the western sun purples the horizon of the great city; it did not come to me, indeed, while I was gazing at the Mazarin Palace, vulgarly known as the Institut. That is why my _Tour de Nesle_ is so unacademic. No; but you will, perhaps, recollect the disastrous time when the cholera leapt from St. Petersburg to London, and from London to Paris, and fell upon the Hôtel-Dieu, spreading its wings over the doomed city like a black pall. The rich man in his selfishness, first of all, hoped that the plague-laden breath of this demon would restrict itself to a mortality among the poor; that the aristocratic scourge would only decimate the dwellers in lodgings or garrets, and that it would think twice before it knocked with its trailing shroud at the doors of the mansions of the opulent Chaussée or the noble Faubourg. He thought it had gone mad I He shut the padded shutters of his windows so that no sound should reach him; he ordered his valets to fight fresh candles, to bring in more bottles of wine, to sing more songs. Then, at the close of the orgy, he heard the shout at his door:--It was the Asiatic angel come, like the Commander after Don Juan's feast, to seize him by the hair, saying: 'Repent thee and die!'

"Oh I then there was universal desolation, indeed I and it was curious to see how the rumour of the first cry of death from a rich household went resounding through the faubourg Saint-Honoré to the Luxembourg, and from the Luxembourg to la Nouvelle-Athènes; how, suddenly, all who lived encircled within that elegant triangle were stirred by a growing terror, and thought of nothing but flight, and shut themselves in their carriages emblazoned with the arms of Crécy, of Marengo or of the Bourse. More than one of these carriages, before it reached the end of the street, came into collision with a waggon covered with black on its way to the cemetery, and more than one fugitive met Death, the incorruptible Customs' officer, who forbade him to go beyond the frontier, recognising him as his, and having marked him for the tomb beforehand.

"Then, to the noise of these barouches, berlins and post-chaises, which increased in every direction, and tore along the roads, there succeeded a dull and continuous sound. A long file of hearses of all descriptions, from a simple black curtain converted into one (for these funeral equipages were soon insufficient for the number of guests invited), followed incessantly, at a walking pace, in a triple line, and before them yawned the jaws of a cemetery. Then, by another route, the carriages returned, empty and impatient to be refilled. All things disappear before the incessant fear of death: the Bourse was mute; the walks became solitary; the places of entertainment deserted; the theatre Porte-Saint-Martin, that king of money-makers, took 9000 francs only during the whole month of April.

"One of the bomb-shells which had burst over Paris struck me. I was still laid on my bed, feverish, but convalescent when M. Harel came and sat by my bedside. The disease from which his theatre was suffering was following the reverse course from mine. M. Harel is one of those gladiators who, if not the strongest, are, at least, the most agile I know: a man of calculated cool-headedness, clever by nature, eloquent from necessity. For five years, I believe, fortune and he wrestled with one another and struggled in the lists that go by the name of the pit of a theatre; certainly, more than once, he bit the dust, but, more than once, he also floored his adversary and, each time the thing happened, the goddess did not rise except with empty pockets. Nevertheless, this time, he himself confessed she had her dagger at his throat!

"With a man like M. Harel, circumstances may change from ill to good, and from good to ill ten times in one day; but, in either case, it is always a pleasure to see him because he is always amusing to listen to: Give him Mascarille and Figaro for _valets de chambre_ and, if he does not get the better of them, I wish I may be a Georges Dandin. It was, then, with the usual pleasure which his presence gave me, no matter, as I have previously said, what the position I might be in with respect to him, that I saw M. Harel come in. This time, moreover, I thought we were on friendly terms, and his visit was a real bit of good luck to a convalescent. He recounted to me, in the wittiest manner imaginable, all the tribulations the theatre was undergoing, enough to drive an ordinary man mad, and ended by saying that if my brains were as empty at that moment as his theatre he was a ruined man.

"An author's head is rarely quite dried up; he has always, in one of the drawers of that marvellous piece of furniture which we call the brain, two or three ideas which are awaiting the period of incubation necessary for each of them before they can come forth alive. Unfortunately, or, perhaps, fortunately, none of these ideas was, at the moment, ready to be born from me, and they each needed several more months of gestation unless they were to come forth into the world still-born. M. Harel gave me a week.

"There are two ways of working at literary work as a whole and dramatic work in particular: one is conscientious, the other pecuniary; the first artistic, the second bourgeois. In the first method, one works thinking only of oneself; in the second, thinking only of the public, and the great evil of our profession is that it is very often the pecuniary work which prevails over the conscientious, and the bourgeois upholding itself over the artistic scheme. Which means that, when one works for oneself, one sacrifices all public requirements to personal, whilst, if one works for others, one sacrifices all personal demands to public; and this does not prevent, whatever their fate, an author having works to which he is indifferent and those for which he has a predilection. Now, it is useless to say that works of predilection are not created in a week. I stuck to it, then, not to give up any of the ideas I had in my head at that moment; and, M. Harel seeing this, he incontinently mentioned one of those which he had in his MSS. boxes at his theatre.

"'_Pardieu!_' he said to me, 'there is in one of the three or four hundred dramas received at the Porte-Saint-Martin a subject which would suit your style of work admirably, and in which Mademoiselle Georges would have a fine part.'

"'What is it?'

"'A Margaret of Burgundy.'

"'I cannot take it: I refused to deal with it the other day when some one suggested it to me.'[3]

"'But why?'

"'Because a friend of mine, who, I think, has much more cleverness than you, which is saying a good deal, is doing a drama on it.'

"'Who is he?'

"'Roger de Beauvoir?'

"'You are mistaken! It is a novel entitled, _L'Écolier de Cluny.'_

'Oh! then another difficulty is removed! I am all the more pleased to plunge into the stream of the fourteenth century at the time when cholera has come to pay me a call, for I know my Louis le Hutin to my finger-tips.'

"'So it is understood I send you the MS. to-morrow.'

"'But the author! Will it suit his ideas?'

"'The play belongs to me; mine by fair and square contract: I have the right to have it rewritten at my own pleasure, by whomsoever I think fit. And, believe me, I feel sure the author will prefer that you should touch it up rather than any one else.... Besides, let me tell you everything frankly.'

"'I warn you that, after that declaration, I shall be on my guard!'

"'Exactly so ... You know Janin is rather friendly towards me?'

"'Yes.'

"'Very well, I begged him to rewrite this play, as it is unactable as it is, and I only took it after he had consented to overhaul it ...'

"'Then you do not need me?'

"'On the contrary, for it was Janin himself who told me to come to you. He has toiled and moiled at it; he has put marvellous style into it; "I have Janin's MS. in my possession; it is, indeed, perhaps the work on which he best displayed the wealth and flamboyant versatility of his pen. This is so true, that when my drama was done I made use of his work as the gold dust with which to besprinkle my own," but, finally, he was the first to realise that there was no play in what he had done. This morning, he came into my room with an armful of papers, which he flung at me, telling me that you were the only one who could put it into shape, that I should kill him with worry, that he had the cholera and that he was going to apply a score of leeches.'

"'Very well, send me all these old papers to-morrow?'

"'Will you set at it immediately?'

"'I will try; but on one condition.'

"'What is it?'

"'That I shall not appear at the rehearsals, and that my name shall not figure on the bills; because I am doing this for you and not for myself. So give me your word of honour?'

"'My word of honour!'"

"I have already mentioned that, at the time M. Harel came to hunt me up, I was suffering from fever, a state of mind, as every one knows, extremely favourable to the concoction of works of the imagination. Therefore, the very same day, my character of Margaret of Burgundy was decided upon, my rôle of Buridan drawn out and part of the plot contrived. Next day M. Harel arrived with his manuscript.

"'Here the thing is,' he said.

"'What a pity! it comes too late.'

"'How is that?'

"'Your drama is finished.'

"'Bah!'

"'Send me your secretary to-night; he shall have the first scene.'

"'Ah! my dear friend! You are ...'

"' One moment! Let us concern ourselves with business matters now.'

"'But you know that, between us ...'

"'Ah! it is not of my own I wish to speak; it is of those of your young man.... You have made the young man sign a contract, you told me?'

"'Yes.'

"'On what conditions?'

"'Why, according to the usual Porte-Saint-Martin terms: 2 louis per performance, I for himself, I for Janin, and 12 francs' worth of tickets.[4]

"'As Janin renounced his part in the collaboration, does he give up his rights?'

"'There is no doubt on that head; he was the first to say so to me.' 'Then, your young man enjoys the benefit of Janin's withdrawal, and has the treaty entirely to himself?'

"'Nothing of the kind!'

"'Why?'

"'Because, with your rights, which are in addition to the ordinary arrangements, that would cost me a ruinous sum per night. Besides, he only claims one louis; he expects to have a collaborator: he will get his louis and his collaborator; only, the latter, instead of being named Janin, will be called Dumas, and, instead of being named, will not hear of it.'

"'Yes; but I would like this young man to be satisfied with me, all the same.'

"'There is a way; let him deduct his second louis from your rights.'

"'Yes, but then, you, on your side, will take the sum of 20 francs' worth of tickets; that will make even money for him.'

"'I am anxious it should.'

"'Do you agree to that?'

"'Perfectly.'

"'Let us draw it up.'

"I took up pen and paper and the treaty was drawn up and signed.

"'Is there anything besides to take over in what you have brought there?' I continued, pointing to the manuscript lying on my bed.

"'Why, yes, in the first act ... Understand clearly that this MS. is Janin's; I have not brought you the other, which is illegible.' 'I will see that after I have written mine.'

"'Then I shall have something to-night?'

"'Yes, the first scene.'

"'That is well; Verteuil shall be with you at ten o'clock.'[5]

"I spent the day scratching the nib of a pen on paper. Verteuil came that night at the appointed hour; I was dead tired, but the scene was done; it was the tavern scene.

"'At what time must I return?' said Verteuil to me.

"' To-morrow, at four.'

"'And shall I have the second scene?'

"'You shall have it.'

"'Wonderful!...'

"'Only, leave me in peace.'

"'I will take myself off at once.'

"'Verteuil took his leave. I then remembered what M. Harel had said to me of the beauties of style, which, according to him, existed in the beginning of the work. The first thing I caught sight of, on looking at the names of the characters, was that the principal hero was called _Anatole,_ a name which seemed to me singularly modern for a fourteenth century drama; but I went on with my reading undiscouraged. There was a suggestion of plot, of which I took advantage, and, as I have said, admirable things in the way of style. However, I only took the tirade of the _grandes_ _dames._ Thus, it is at Janin, and not at me, that the marquises of the faubourg Saint-Germain ought to throw stones. As far as the second, third, fourth and fifth acts were concerned, they diverged so greatly from ordinary theatrical rules, that it was impossible to extract anything from them; nevertheless, the magic of the style made me read them right to the end; but, when I had read the manuscript, I laid it down and did not open it again.

"Next day, Verteuil was prompt and I was punctual, and he carried off his second scene. When the first three acts were done, they were read to the actors without waiting for the last two. According to our compact, my name was not uttered, I never appeared at the reading, and M. Harel took the place of the presumed author, who was still absent from Paris.

"In a week's time, M. Harel had his drama completely finished. I then wrote to the young man to tell him that his first performance was going to take place. He never favoured me with an answer; but took carriage, came to Paris and found his rehearsal tickets at his rooms. He rushed to the Porte-Saint-Martin, came in as they began the second act, listened to it quite quietly, also to the third; but, at last, losing patience after the prison scene, he came up on to the stage and asked if they were soon going to begin the rehearsal of his play, or if they had made him come solely and simply to listen to somebody else's drama. The actors began to laugh. The resemblance in the names suddenly occurred to his mind, and he saw clearly that he had said a foolish thing.

"'What,' said Bocage to him, 'do you not recognise your child, or has it been changed at nurse?'

"The young man did not know what to reply.

"'Are you dissatisfied with the prison scene?' continued Bocage.

"'Not at all,' said the young man, who began to regain his self-possession; 'on the contrary, it seems to me very effective.'

"'Very well, but you shall see your second act,' resumed Bocage; 'that will please you indeed!'

"The young man saw his second act, and declared it to be exactly to his taste. Only, he seemed much to regret that the name of Anatole had been exchanged for that of Gaultier d'Aulnay.

"The young man followed the rehearsals of _his drama_ most carefully, making objections at random to which nobody listened, and corrections which they took good care not to follow.

"The day of the representation arrived. Carefully though I had kept the secret on my side, the indiscreet interest of the manager, the jokes of the actors, even the complaints let slip as to the _author,_ had denounced me to the public as the real culprit; a certain way of handling, in the construction of the play, and qualities of style impressed with an individual stamp of its own, at each moment rose up to accuse me more and more; in short, there was not one single person in the theatre but who expected to hear my name pronounced by the lips of Bocage, when he came to announce, according to custom, that the play they had had the honour of performing was by Monsieur * * * He named the young man.

"I had just fulfilled the last engagement that I had set myself, and, certainly, it was the most difficult. To hear a whole theatre stamping, applauding with hundreds of hands, demanding with the frenzy of triumph your name as the author, which is equivalent to your person, your life and your renown, and to give up instead of your own an unknown name to the halo of publicity; and all this when one might have done otherwise, since no sort of promise binds you, since no engagement whatever has been entered into, this is, believe me, the philosophy of delicacy pushed to the extremest limit.[6]

"When the performance was over, I caught sight of our young man as I was going downstairs with the audience. He modestly received the compliments of all his friends and was riding the high horse in the centre of a group of them. Janin was going down at the same time as I. We exchanged one of those looks which nobody could understand; then we went away arm in arm, laughing all along the boulevard, at the young man, at the public and, most of all, at ourselves. Next day, M. Harel, who made out that the absence of my name on the bills was prejudicial to him, invented one of those methods which were peculiar to himself, of telling the public, tacitly, what it was impossible to tell it outright, and he drew up his bill in these terms--

"LA TOUR DE NESLE "_Drame en cinq actes, en prose_ "DE MM. *** ET GAILLARDET

"He had, as we see, reversed the rules of algebra, which lay down that one should proceed from the known to the unknown, and not from the unknown to the known. It was impossible to give proof, I think, of a more knowing ignorance and of a more ingenious blunder. Which seeing, the young man wrote the following letter to the editor of the _Corsaire...._.

We are acquainted with that letter as well as with Harel's answer: I have quoted them previously.

"That answer did not hinder the young man, who was a barrister, from bringing an action against M. Harel, but it was a singular action, as you shall see. He never dreamt of taking the asterisks from the bill altogether; it was a question, therefore, solely, of changing the position of them. A request was, consequently, presented by the young man to the Tribunal de Commerce, to have the things re-established in algebraical position; this request asked for a decree which should authorise the young man to put himself first. Until then all went well, and the young man had not completely forgotten the small service I had just done him, and the way in which I had done it; witness the following letter which he had written me when starting his lawsuit--

'MY DEAR MASTER,--I wish to renew my thanks for your good and loyal conduct in my affairs yesterday; but, since Harel is intractable, I will not yield him an inch of ground, and I am going to fight him. If, indeed, as he says, the honour of his management is imperilled, so is my word compromised; and _I am too far pledged with the public and with my friends to remain quiet._

"'Do not let this business worry you, my dear master, and particularly do not let it prevent you from going away when you wish; only, in that case, I would ask you of your goodness to make one trivial declaration,[7] so that Harel may be brought to trial, and made to overcome his obstinacy by the certain prospect of a conviction against him. A thousand pardons for all the upset these miserable, wretched quarrels are causing you. A thousand cordial thanks.

"'4 _June_ 1832'

"Owing to my declaration, the sentence was pronounced and the unlucky asterisks were condemned to be put last. Meanwhile, a singular idea had presented itself to the young man: namely, to sell the MS. without my knowledge. Consequently, he went in search of Duvernoy and told him that he was the author of _La Tour de Nesle,_ and that he had come to do business with him.

"Duvernoy, who knew how things had been going, came in search of me, and warned me of the action of my _collaborator._ We settled there and then the conditions of the sale. It was fixed at 1400 francs, 700 of which were to be handed to the young man. Doubtless, this sum did not appear to the young man proportionate to the merit of _his drama_; for he threatened Duvernoy and me with a second lawsuit if we fixed the basis of terms on these conditions. At the end of a fortnight he signed a contract of sale for a sum total of 500 francs. The young man would have done better, you see, to go on letting me look after his business affairs. It is needless to say that only one single name appeared on the pamphlet, as was the case on the bills. You will, perhaps, think that in consideration of this last deed of division my young man held me discharged?

"At the time I was occupied with the publication of my complete works I received a letter from him. What do you think he told me in that letter? He told me that he had just learnt with the greatest surprise that I had the presumption to put _his drama_ amongst mine. As one sees, the matter had degenerated into buffoonery. I replied to the young man that, if he continued to bother me with his nonsense, I should print his manuscript in the preface of my own. This intimation was a genuine thunderbolt to the poor devil. He did not know that M. Harel had made me a present, as a kind of premium, of the autograph MS. after the signing of my agreement for _Angèle._

"Next day I received, by a sheriff's officer, an invitation to place my manuscript in its author's hands, because, he said, he had just negotiated its _sale._ The thing will at first appear odd, but it will be understood, when one reflects that, with the exception of one scene, the drama was entirely unrevised; the publisher, then, could not have been in his right senses, but the author was well within his rights.

"M. Philippe Dupin, to whom I sent both the MSS., and who still has them in his possession, replied to our adversary that we were ready to surrender the said autograph, but that we would only do so in exchange for a copy collated under the inspection of three dramatic authors and certified conformable to them. The young man reflected for a fortnight, then withdrew his demand. This was the third lawsuit he had begun against me, in order to gain for himself 12,000 francs. Since that time I have heard no further mention of the young man, and I do not at the present day know if he be dead or alive. That is how my _Tour de Nesle_ was composed. As for M. Gaillardet's, I am not aware if it is, as he says, his best drama; I still only know it from reading it, and I shall wait until he has it played before deciding if it be better than _George_ and _Struensee._--Faithfully, etc.,

"ALEX. DUMAS"

The days rolled by, and I knew that my future adversary went shooting every morning, and I was kept informed of the progress which he made. Finally, appeared the famous answer. Let me be permitted to reproduce it in full, with the insults it contains. It is probable that M. Gaillardet to-day regrets his insults towards me, as I regret my violence towards him.[8]

"TO M. S.--HENRY BERTHOUD

"MONSIEUR LE DIRECTEUR,--I published an article in the twenty-first number of _Le Musée des Families_ which you did me the honour to ask from me on the ancient tower of Nesle. In that article, I related cursorily, and under the form of a chat without any sort of pretension, how the idea had come to me to write a drama, the first conception of which no one has contested with me; a drama printed and published over two years ago, and performed to-day for the two hundredth time under my name, by the consent of M. Dumas himself. I did not say a word of M. Dumas; I did not make any allusion to the judicial and literary discussion which arose formerly between him and me. Anyone can be convinced of this by reading my article. I should have a scruple, indeed, against reviving a quarrel long since extinguished, and to which an amicable transaction put an end; a transaction proposed by M. Dumas himself, as I shall tell in due course, by which the public controversy that I had then desired and provoked was settled in its earliest stages. However that may be, to-day M. Dumas returns to the affair; he rekindles the cold and scattered ashes, piling them up with his hands and stirring them to life with his breath, and relights the fire, at the risk of burning his own fingers at it. Since he has thrown down the glove, I pick it up. He has incited me, I reply to him. So much the worse for him if he be wounded in this game, if his reputation chances to be compromised thereby: it does not rest with me to avoid the fight.... I am the offended, the insulted one I and, if ever retaliation be permissible, it is to him who has not sought the attack.... To such an one, vengeance is sacred and reprisals holy, he employs the right of natural and legitimate defence!

"I come, then, to the _complete and true story of La Tour de Nesle._ I will base my recital on proofs _written and signed_ by the actual personages in this story, and, when proofs shall fail me, I will put before the readers' eyes the suppositions and probabilities of the case, and say to him: 'Consider and judge!' But, in a lawsuit like this, where _honour_ is everything, where the written proof of many of the general facts cannot be set forth (for that, the future would need to have been foreseen and divined as to what would happen), where each of the litigants in certain circumstances must be _believed,_ because he has always told the truth in others, where he who has once lied, on the contrary, is no more worthy of credence; in an affair, in fact, where good faith ought to prevail over lying, when both have nothing to show beyond _their word,_--I must, and I will, before all else, convince my adversary of _inaccuracy_ (I will be polite in expression), and, that _inaccuracy_ proved, I will bind it on his forehead like the inscription of a brand at the head of a standard, so that the stigma may survive and hover incessantly over the guilty one, before the eyes of the judges in this suit.

"M. Dumas declares (I begin with the first sentence of his article relative to _La Tour de Nesle),_ that, having received a visit from M. Harel, the latter said to him, 'The play belongs to me; mine by fair and square contract; I have the right to have it rewritten at my own pleasure, by whomsoever I think fit....' And, further: 'You have made the young man sign a contract, you told me?' 'Yes.' 'On what conditions?' 'Why, according to the usual terms of the Porte-Saint-Martin: 2 louis per performance, 1 for himself, 1 for Janin and 12 francs' worth of tickets.' Then, in a note, M. Dumas adds: 'This treaty is still in the possession of M. Harel.' Very well, the more words the more _inaccuracies._ Here is the only treaty which ever existed between me and M. Harel; it is the one they made me sign, by what manœuvre I will tell later, when they made me accept the collaboration of M. Janin."

Then followed the text of that treaty, which the reader knows.

"'The drama was played,' says M. Dumas; 'they gave the name of the _young man._ (M. Dumas has throughout used _that expression_ to designate me.) To hear a whole theatre clapping, demanding your name and, instead of one's own, an unknown name given up to the halo of publicity; and all this _when one might have done otherwise, since no sort of promise binds you, since no engagement whatever has been entered into,_ this is the philosophy of delicacy pushed to the extremest limit.'

"Well, here is the letter I received from M. Dumas before the performance, and the _conditions_ on which alone I consented to allow the play to be acted."

That letter, the first that I wrote to M. Gaillardet, will not have been forgotten.

"Now, reader, decide. In the case of M. Dumas, which holds its head highest, the _philosophy_ of delicacy, or, indeed, that of _assurance_? 'Duvemoy came in search of me,' continues M. Dumas, 'and we _settled_ there and then the conditions of the sale. It was _fixed_ at 1400 francs, 700 of which were to be handed to the _young man._ Doubtless this sum did not appear to the _young man_ proportionate to the merit of his drama.... In a fortnight's time, he signed a contract of sale for a sum total of 500 francs. The _young man_ would have done better, you see, to go on letting me look after his business affairs.'

"Here is a declaration signed by M. Duvemoy.

"'By the same impartial spirit which made me give a declaration to M. Alexandre Dumas in which I acknowledged that M. Gaillardet had offered me the MS. of _La Tour de Nesle_ (we shall see this later), I assert that _there was never any question_ of 1400 francs for the price of the said MS., but of a sum which, I believe, was to be 1000 francs. DUVERNOY

"'PARIS, 8 _Septembre_ 1834'

"I have much more to say and all the _philosophies_ to quote! but they will find room in my narrative; for, now, yes,--now, I feel myself quite strong enough to undertake them!

"It was on 27 March that I read my drama _La Tour de Nesle_ to M. Harel in the presence of M. Janin and of Mademoiselle Georges. The drama was received. 'Dumas could not have done better!' exclaimed the manager, enthusiastically. 'There is, however, something to touch up in the style, which is not at all dramatic; but do not worry yourself about that; begin another drama, and Janin will do us both the favour of revising some pages.' I did not quite comprehend how M. Janin, who had never written a play, could have a dramatic style, to use the manager's expression. 'But, if he has not written one,' I said to myself, 'he has heard a great many, which, perhaps, comes to the same thing.'

"I therefore professed that I should be extremely flattered and most grateful if M. Janin would indeed _smooth down_ a few sentences. M. Janin consented with ready willingness, and I left M. Janin and Mademoiselle Georges joyfully. I was in the seventh heaven.... My rapture did not last long.

"Two days later, 29 March, I went to see what my _Janinised_ drama had become. What was my surprise to see a whole act _rewritten_! 'It is a big piece of work,' I said aside to the manager. 'M. Janin did much more than I had desired; but I do not think my style so bad that he need ...' 'No, no, certainly,' replied M. Harel; 'but Janin has thrown himself thoroughly into it, he will at least want his share.' 'What! his share?' 'Yes, his half.' 'But it is a collaboration then?--there is some _misunderstanding_; I will go and tell M. Janin.' 'Ah! what are you going to do? You will offend Janin, Janin the most influential of the critics! You will make an enemy for life.' 'Bah!' 'I tell you it is so. You do not know what the theatre is! But ... besides they have set to work on it! It is not intact. You are bound on both sides! etc., etc.,' to such an extent that M. Harel, seeing me quite stunned, took a sheet of paper, scrawled upon it the agreement that I have transcribed above, and made me sign it.... And that is how I got my first collaborator.

"Then, I attributed that occurrence to a misunderstanding; now, I attribute it to a _very good understanding_: ideas change with time!

"Then the day came for M. Janin to read us his work. I said nothing, for, as far as I can, I exercise charity, even towards my enemies!... Let it be known only that, by common accord, the work was judged null and void. Janin withdrew and gave up the task (I will give the written proof), and M. Harel returned purely and simply to my drama. Now, since the day upon which I read my play, I had conceived new ideas and improvements, due as much to discussion and to the criticisms of the manager as to my own reflections. But, in order to enlighten the public as to the true mysteries of the birth of _La Tour de Nesle,_ and, as it were, to initiate it into the phases and developments of the work by which this drama was conceived, abnormal in its success and by reason of the quarrels which it raised, I am about to establish succinctly what the drama was, _as a whole,_ and in comparison with the drama performed, which I read to M. Harel, and which was returned to me at the epoch of which I am speaking. It will be easy to all to understand me at once (who has not seen _La Tour de Nesle_?), and to _verify_ me afterwards, M. Dumas having the original MS. in his possession, and able to show it to whomsoever desires to see it; also, people may be confident that I shall say _less_ rather than _more._ I quote from memory and my adversary has the book!"

Here, M. Gaillardet gave the résumé of his first MS.; then he continued thus--

"The reader has already gathered at what points the _two_ dramas coincide. Are not these points, in the small portion I have quoted, and quoted faithfully (for if I were the man to make up an audacious lie, my adversary would hold in his hands the means of exposing me!)--are not _those points already_ the fundamental basis of the _acted_ drama? Are they not the bones and marrow, the substance and framework?... Indeed I I venture to say that had I done _only that_ in the play, I should have done more than half the drama, consequently ten, twenty times more than M. Dumas allows me, since he allows me _nothing. Very well!_ he has dared to write and to print it in all his letters! But, after what we know of him, of what can we and should we be surprised?

"M. Harel had expressed much regret to me; first, because the drama was not _en tableaux_; that style suited the ways of his theatre better, and the success of _Richard_ supported the opinion; secondly, that I had not made Buridan the father of Gaultier and of Philippe, whose mother (Marguerite) was alone known. 'That would complicate the plot,' he said to me. Finally, he thought it improbable that Marguerite, a queen and all-powerful, would not have had Buridan arrested and got rid of, at the first words of his revelation. At the juxtaposition of these two latter objections a sudden ray of light sprang up in me. Let Buridan be the _father_ indeed, by means of a pre-existing intrigue, and let him be arrested by Marguerite, who wanted to rid herself of him; then, at the moment of his greatest peril, let him make himself known, and there would be the opportunity for a magnificent scene--capital! The prison scene was hit upon.

"Two days after that on which Janin had given up the drama, like an athlete, exhausted by a task too heavy for him, I took to M. Harel, the manager of the Porte-Saint-Martin, a _scenario_ which was pretty nearly that of _La Tour de Nesle._ I am, however, going to point out the differences.

"Orsini was not a tavern-keeper; that was Landry, although both were men belonging to the tower of Nesle. As for Orsini, he was one of those magicians extremely feared in his time under the name of _envoûteurs._ A confidant of Marguerite, he receives at his house the courtiers, a part very much like that of Ruggieri in _Henri III._; it is on that account, I think, that M. Dumas has made him a tavern-keeper instead of Landry.

"Secondly, the prison scene was arranged like this so that Buridan might finish his part holding Marguerite's hands, and say to her, 'Délie ces cordes!' Marguerite, falling on her knees obediently, and freeing him with _one single cut._ M. Dumas has _tripled_ that action by causing Buridan only to be unbound after _three attempts._

"He is miles beyond me, as tried talent far exceeds feeble inexperienced effort, as attainment exceeds inexperience.

"As far as the truth of what I advance is concerned, it will be detected by all impartial readers, first, in the accuracy and faithfulness of its details, if I may so express it; I do not merely relate what is in the actual _Tour de Nesle,_ but things that _are not to be found in that,_ among others, one scene in the fourth act. Buridan comes as a gipsy, and not as a captain, to visit the _wizard_ Orsini. The latter wants to overawe the gipsy, who revealed to him the murders of the tower of Nesle as he had revealed them to Marguerite; and soon the magician falls at the gipsy's feet, seized with the very superstitions he himself instils into the vulgar-minded, to enquire if, perhaps, there be true sorcerers! This scene was bound to disappear directly Orsini was made an inn-keeper.

"Finally, as to probability, I might say concerning the _proof_ of my word, that I have the actual words of M. Dumas in the letter in which he says to me: 'Harel has come to ask my _advice_ about a drama by _you_ which he wishes to put on the stage. _Your play ..._ that which I have been happy to have been able to _add_ to it ... etc.' Nobody speaks like this of a work in which he has done _everything._

"Next, a line from M. Harel, which I received before my departure (_after Janin's withdrawal,_) in which he says to me: 'Write to me; take care of your health and, above all, _work_! 'There were then, modifications, changes decided upon, a _work to be done_!... They deny it; I assert it and assert it with proof!... It is for the reader to decide the matter.[9]

"So, now, you will perceive that it will matter little to me whether M. Dumas either had or had not my _first_ MS. in his possession. I have proved that he has had my second plan; from another source, he himself confesses to have possessed and partly copied Janin's MS. which was mine _spoilt...._ What more do I need?

"I will, therefore, resume my story from where I left off. _Felonies_ were about to succeed one another like file-firing. It was on 8 April when I took my _scenario_ to M. Harel. My father died on the 9th; he had come to Paris on purpose to fetch me away from the contagion which reigned over the city, and his joy in being present at my first play induced him to remain with me! This recollection breaks my heart!... On the 10th, as a messenger of death, I went to console my poor mother. This was the night of the same day on which M. Harel wrote me the note wherein he said, '_Take care of your health_!' Wretched irony, flung at me between a misfortune which had come upon me and an act of robbery which was about to overtake me! 'Go,' he had said to me; 'I have a play before yours: you have three months before you. Take it easy and write to me!'

"I had scarcely been gone a month before I had to write to M. Janin to ask him about an announcement relative to _La Tour de Nesle._ A book had just appeared upon the same subject (_L'Écolier de Cluny),_ and I did not wish it to be thought that my play was taken from the book. Janin replied--

"'I will willingly do what you ask me: but what is the good? I announce the approaching performance of your play. I say _your_ and not _our,_ because I count for _absolutely_ nothing in it; you know the matter rests between you and M. Harel; that was agreed upon a long time ago, etc. JULES JANIN'

"'10 _May_ 1832'

"After that, not a word further. I wrote to Paris, and I learnt that M. Dumas _has been made and has constituted himself_ my collaborator. I leave the reader to imagine what my feelings were!...

"Beside myself, trembling with rage and indignation, I wrote to M. Harel to forbid him to act the play; to M. Dumas to beg him to prevent it. 'You have doubtless been misinformed,' I said to him; 'the play belongs to me and to me alone; I do not wish to have collaborators at all, certainly not clandestine ones, imposed upon me; I therefore appeal to you, for your own honour's sake, and I point out to you the necessity for stopping the rehearsals, etc.'

"No answer either from M. Harel or M. Dumas!... I set off, and, before going to my home, I went in travelling garb, as I was, straight to M. Harel. 'I am ruined!' he said to me; 'it is true I have deceived you.... Now, what are you going to do?... Stop the play!--You will not succeed in doing that; I shall change the title of it and play it. You can attack me for forgery, theft, plagiarism, what you like: you would obtain 1200 francs damages. Ask a lawyer! If, however, you let it be played you will gain 12,000 francs, etc.' He spoke the truth, for such is the protection ordinarily granted by our judges to the author who is robbed!... I returned home, pale with rage, and it was then I found the grandiloquent letter from M. Dumas, quoted by me at the beginning of this article. Such are the principal facts.

"Now, what do you say to those lines of M. Dumas? 'I wrote to the young man, and the young man _never favoured me with an answer_!' This time it is the philosophy of _truthfulness,_ with a vengeance! Nobody would have believed it, if I had not held the _evidence_ and the _means_ of proving what I am stating! M. Dumas not having yielded to the request or to the summons that I sent him to stop the rehearsals of the play (which was the first, if not the second, of his _mistakes,_ from which he will never clear himself, because it proves his _complicity),_ and M. Harel threatening to play in spite of me--which, both morally and physically, he was capable of doing,--there was nothing else left for me to do but to let my drama be performed, and according to the _conditions_ stipulated in M. Dumas's letter, in which he stated that _his name would not be given,_ that I should be the _sole author,_ that he wished to _tender_ me a service and not to _sell_ it me.

"Very well, then, the day following the first performance, _asterisks_ appeared on the playbills _before_ my name, and now, M. Dumas wants to replace _my name_ by his: it will be seen what encroachments these were! This is not all. When it came to payment, they would not give me more than _one share._ Now, listen carefully: during the current April, the Commission of Authors had made an agreement with M. Harel, before the performance of my play, which stipulated for a fee of ten per cent, for the authors, in the performances _to come on_ at the Porte-Saint-Martin. I had, then, the right to the benefit of this agreement. M. Dumas enjoyed it, and more beside; he also received two and three hundred francs per night. What did they leave me? Forty-eight francs, the price of an old agreement! and M. Dumas took _half_ of it from me--that is the service he wished to _tender_ me, and not to _sell_!!!

"There was nothing for it but to go to law to protest against such deeds, as there is nothing but the police station against theft and pickpocketting. I therefore had recourse to the law courts.

"If more proof _still_ be needed, I have it at hand, drawn up and set forth in the legal deeds, _properly attested,_ which began the examination of this trial. But it would seem that the trial a little alarmed M. Dumas's public conscience, for he suggested to me to stop it by a compromise.

"In that compromise--First, we both acknowledged each other as _joint_ authors of _La Tour de Nesle;_ second, it was specified that this play should always be published and acted under _my name,_ followed by asterisks; third, M. Dumas guaranteed me a settled sum of 48 francs per performance, and _half_ of his tickets. 'To what sum do they amount?' I asked him in all good faith. 'To 36 francs, upon my honour!' he replied, glancing at M. Harel; so I accepted 18 francs' worth of tickets. Next day, M. Harel would not fulfil the above-mentioned compromise, as far as it concerned himself, although he had been the instigator of, and witness to, it. It needed a _trial_ to compel him to do it, and M. Dumas blamed him on that occasion.... I had that to thank him for ... it was the _first_ and _last_ time. He also quoted my letter.

"A little while later, I learnt that M. Dumas, who had declared to me upon his honour that there would only be 36 francs' worth of tickets, had over 50! But, while taking the oath, he had looked at M. Harel. The MS. was still for sale. Barba, who had offered 1000 francs for it, and never 1400, would give no more than 500 francs. Half that sum should have been paid down to each of us there and then, and the remainder in six months from that date. In a few days' time, when I went to M. Barba to get my 125 francs, I learnt that M. Dumas had come and taken my share of the cash _payable_ down with his own, _saying he was authorised to do so by me_!

"There is something so incredible in such an act, so petty, so degrading to the _man of letters,_ that I should not have dared to cite it, had I not possessed the proof, written by M. Dumas himself. Indeed, when Barba informed me of _that,_ not venturing to believe it, I wrote to M. Dumas, who replied that he had, indeed, received 250 francs; but Barba had said he had special arrangements with me (did they not say that it was Barba who had wished to pay there and then?); that, moreover, he had enabled me to exact the same advantage for myself as for him ... that I could make use of his letter to get myself also paid at once, that he authorised me, etc. This was making use of a first _fraud_ in order to commit a second, two _indelicacies_ instead of one! I should have preferred to be settled by a six months' bill.[10] Now, Monsieur Dumas, what do you suppose I should reply to you--you who treated me in your letter as though I were a _poor devil_ of a fellow?... I am too well-bred for you to guess. Now, in order to escape the sooner out of these unworthy details, which present so ill a picture, I will state that I should never oppose the insertion of _La Tour de Nesle_ among M. Dumas's complete works (although that right resulted strictly as mine from the terms of our transaction together), if M. Dumas had consented to make a simple mention of my collaboration in that play. That is the method followed nowadays by M. Scribe. But, to a polite