poetical play, "Charles VII.," inspired, as he acknowledges, by De Musset's "Marrons au feu," and by "The Cid" and "Andromaque." Here also one M. Beudin came to him with the prologue of a play which afterwards became "Richard Darlington."
It was on our author's return from Trouville, to witness the first night of Hugo's "Marion Delorme," that Dumas encountered a kind friend who told him that he was too late, and informed him of the comparative failure of the play. The critic-friend was astounded to hear a detailed and eloquent eulogy of "Marion" from the lips of the author of "Christine."
When Dumas had finished, the critic shrugged his shoulders with an air of profound amazement. "A confrère!" he said. Further words failed him.
"Charles VII.," like "Henri Trois" and "Antony," was, in spite of its historical setting, a play of the times—a challenge to the old social régime; a part of the romantic movement; a powerful plea for individuality. This Dumas himself declared, in the lines which he prefixed to his "Comme je devins auteur dramatique" (the first draft of his "Mémoires") in 1833—
"Un jour on connaîtra quelle lutte obstinée
A fait sous mon genou plier la destinée;
A quelle source amère en mon âme j'ai pris
Tout ce qu'elle contient de haine et de mépris:
Quel orage peut faire, en passant sur la tête,
Qu'on prenne pour le jour l'éclair d'un tempête,
