condemning him for keeping "a literary factory"; for "setting up as a coryphée of shame"; and for "laying his hand on Reputation, that white-winged maiden, dragging her through the mire, and violating her before the public gaze," with much more to the same effect. Unfortunately Dumas himself, calling in unexpectedly, interrupted the back-biting process; and when he left, after a fierce encounter with his circle of enemies, they passed a mild, emasculated resolution which, coming from so unimportant a body, had little effect.
Theodore de Banville, in his "Odes Funambulesques," has some amusing but quite untranslatable verse on this episode. Dumas is passing by, when "mirecourt" darts out of the crowd, and abuses the great man in the foulest manner. After the thing has exhausted its bag of spleen, Dumas replies,
Docile au mirecourt, il lui laissa tout dire,
Pencha son front rêveur ... puis, avec un sourire,
Fit: 'As-tu déjeuné, Jacquot?'[1]
Thwarted thus, Jacquot published his venomous pamphlet, "Maison Dumas et Cie," by which he got little credit or profit. There was a half-truth in this lie, and if it had been told with moderation and in a friendly and appreciative way, it might
- ↑ Dumas politely allowed the mirecourt to say its say; then inclined his thoughtful brow towards the creature and asked with a smile, "Hast thou lunched to-day, Jacquot?"
