the plans, the love of splendour with which his African descent had cursed or blessed him, came uppermost, and at the tempting suggestions of others his ideas expanded at such a pace that from a few hundred francs, Dumas found himself paying—or owing—tens of thousands. In July he gave a breakfast on the site of the future palace, inviting his guests to meet him there, three years later, to see his new home. As Mr Fitzgerald says, "this was like one of the dramatic appointments given in 'Monte Cristo.'"
From this period in particular, dated that system of collaboration which lasted for some years, and of which so much too much has been made. The editors who urged this ardent, insouciant worker to undertake twice or three times as much as any ordinary mortal could produce, were the first to attack him, either for non-fulfilment of contract, or for his "workshop" methods, as they were pleased to call them.
Inevitably Dumas, in the full blaze of success, was the butt of the envious, for envy is the shadow thrown by the sun of fame. A young gentleman of the name of Jacquot (who, like a kitchen-rogue, dubbed himself "Eugène de Mirecourt"), choosing to consider himself offended by the great man, brought before the "Société des Gens de Lettres," a resolution levelled at our author (during his absence),
