these, he tells us, he constructed his play of "Henri Trois et sa Cour."
"I was then twenty-five years of age," he writes; "'Henri Trois' was my second scrious work. Let a conscientious critic take it and submit it to the most searching examination—he will find in the matter of style everything to censure; in the matter of plot, nothing. I have written fifty dramas since, and none of them is more skilfully constructed." These are bold words, and would be boastful if good critics did not confirm them.
The young author's superiors were equally busy during this time. They piled the work upon him for fear that he should use a minute of their time in writing his "trashy" dramas; they took away his salary, and if Dumas had not been able to borrow from Lafitte, the famous banker and politician, he and his mother would have starved. Finally, the Duke of Orleans withheld from our author the customary yearly bonus given to his staff. But for all that, "Henri Trois" was written, was read privately, and greeted with enthusiasm—was read before the Comédie Française, and accepted by acclamation.
Soon the news got about that a new play—a play which would revolutionise the French stage—had been written by an obscure young man, and little by little the public excitement grew. The produc-
