"As one gets on in life," he writes, "and, losing sight of the cradle, draws nigh to the tomb, it seems as if the invisible ties which bind one to one's birthplace grow stronger and more irresistible.... A man's life is divided into two distinct parts: the first thirty-five years are for hope; the second thirty-five, for memory.... That is why, instead of always breaking fresh ground in literary work, consulting solely the caprices of my fancy, the resources of my imagination, ever seeking new characters and conceiving new, unheard-of situations, I return at times, at least in thought, to that beaten track, my childhood, retracing those days to their earliest hours, looking back along the path I have trodden, back until I see my little feet as they kept pace with my dearly loved mother's—which have traversed life side by side with mine from the day when my eyes first opened, to the day when hers closed for ever."
We have seen how Dumas made use, in "Ange Pitou," of his recollections of childhood. The preparation of the "Mémoires" probably further stimulated him to utilise his recollections of life at Villers—Cotterets, as a "milieu" for these semi-pastoral stories. Therefore, when he read a little story by Hendrik Conscience, the Flemish novelist, called "Le Conscrit," in which a young peasant is "drawn" for the war, is blinded in action, is brought home by his
