Dumas, at least in the latter part of his life, "wrote for money."
This is a loose phrase, and we must distinguish. Most authors write for money. "Intimate" biographies show that in private life all writers not born to affluence have valued the work of their brains in filthy lucre; that they have demanded—and quite rightly—the market price for their work. The questions which really touch the quick of the subject are: Did Dumas pander to the public for gain? Did he consciously lower and debase his abilities for money? Was money the prime object of his labours? We deny all these possible charges. Granted, that Dumas, like many another artist, turned out bad work at times; that he spoke of his books on occasion in commercial terms; that he was generally pressed for money, and obliged to turn to his desk to satisfy a dun, or fulfil a contract, and that in the last few years he resorted to shifts unbecoming in a man of genius. He never parted company with his literary conscience. A score of examples of this could be given: how he destroyed bad work; how he delayed or refused to commence work for which he had not found in his brain the plan of adequate treatment; and how he deplored the bad stuff which he had been coerced or persuaded into doing. He never
