J, Bourn.

Euvres d' ALEXANDRE DUMAS.

Bruxelles :

Meline, Cans, et Compagnie. 1838-40. 4 Tomes.

ALEXANDER DUMAS is one of the most lively and popular writers in that new school of French literature and politics, which has attained its chief triumphs since the Revolution of 1830, though its origin may be traced a few years further back. The members of it are numerous and active, and the number and rapid succession of their publications show with what favor they are greeted by the public. In a recent number of this Journal,* we had occasion to sketch some of the characteristics of this school, when speaking particularly of the writings of George Sand. Our present subject is not equally attractive, for Dumas falls far short of Madame Dudevant in inventive genius and mastery of style. But his plays and novels show much talent, and afford very striking illustrations of the extraordinary bouleversement of taste and opinion, which is now exhibited by the reading public of France. The fertility of his pen, and the variety of subjects which he has treated, show a very ready and productive mind, stimulated by the public demand, and bent on reaping a present harvest from his popularity, rather than establishing a permanent reputation. The four ponderous octavo volumes, that lie before us, of about seven hundred pages each, printed in double columns, do not comprise the whole of his publications. Materials for a fifth volume have appeared since 1840, and still there are no signs of weariness on the part of the author or satiety on that of his readers. He appears in various characters, and writes on the most dissimilar topics, with equal liveliness and success. Novels, tragedies in prose and rhyme, history, political essays, and books of travels come from the same pen, and the family likeness betrays their common origin. His powers of invention appear to as much advantage in history as in romance, and the scenes and personages that he describes as a traveller, are very like the off-hand creations of the playwright and novelist.

France is not the only country in which literature begins to assume the aspect and undergo the mutations of trade.

*North American Review, Vol. LIII. pp. 103 et seq.

The author's profession is becoming as mechanical as that of the printer and the bookseller, being created by the same causes, and subject to the same laws. The nature of the supply seems likely to be as strictly proportioned to the demand, as in any other commercial operation. The public appetite will not be sated with the food, which the caprice of writers and the irregular distribution of natural genius may create. It must be gratified with its peculiar delicacies, its favorite cates; and the means of satisfying it, in one way or another, are sure to be discovered. The publisher, in the name of his customers, calls for a particular kind of authorship, just as he would bespeak a dinner at a restaurant; and, in preparing the required article, the cooks at the desk show as much versatility and readiness as their brethren in the kitchen. The great increase of the reading public, consequent on the diffusion of education and the cheapness of paper and print, is the great cause of this extraordinary cultivation of the art of book-making. The writer's profession becomes a lucrative one, when he ministers to the pleasures of so large a circle, who are willing to pay for the amusement and gratification, which he affords them. He no longer looks for his reward to the judgment of the judicious few, or the united voice of different countries and ages. He finds a more immediate recompense in the accounts of his bookseller and the applause of the multitude. And he is able to direct his course with a view to the attainment of this reward, and to disregard the higher motive. The mind is not so irresistibly inclined towards one pursuit or one kind of exertion, that it cannot be forced out of its channel. Successive efforts by different individuals, urged on by the popular voice and eager for gain, will be sure to create the desired product, however foreign it may be to their original taste or previously acquired habits.

The present literature of France seems to have grown up under influences of this character. It is not that the literary habits and preferences of individuals have changed, for it is impossible that the same persons at one period should relish the formal literature of the age of Louis the Fourteenth, and at another the extravagant Romanticism of the present day. But the changes in the constitution of society, and the improvements in the mechanical arts, have brought forward a new community of readers, whose taste differs from that of

the higher classes not more widely now, than it did a century ago, when it had not the power of manifesting itself and creating the appropriate means for its gratification. In a word, the democratic principle is now exerting as visible an influence in literature as in politics, the change being accompanied, in the beginning, with as much turmoil and as many ill effects in the one case as in the other, but destined in the end, as we may trust, to be productive of much good. A literature created for the people, if not by them, must always be characterized by greater energy and simplicity, by more excitement and a broader license, and by less polish and refinement, than one which is destined for a learned and aristocratic class. If it consist only of songs and ballads, these qualities will yet be manifested, though in a narrow sphere. But, when the progress of society has extended a certain degree of instruction to all classes, and rendered books accessible to all by cheapening their price, and when, moreover, it has lessened the weight of the authority and example of the few, removed the attachment to old established principles, and diminished the reverence for antiquity, we may expect that these characteristics will appear on a larger scale, and overpower for a time those laws of taste, which formerly enjoyed an undisputed supremacy. New sources of interest and amusement will be opened, and new fields of literary exertion entered, by men, who attach more importance to the number of their admirers, than to the basis on which the admiration rests. They will look to the quantity, and not the quality, of the praise obtained, and will measure their reputation by their substantial profits. Their productions will bear the popular stamp, will represent the feelings and tastes, and be suited to the prejudices, of the multitude to whom they are addressed.

France has now been in an agitated, and at short intervals a revolutionary state, for more than half a century. A people very excitable by nature have had their enthusiasm kindled to the highest degree by great and rapid changes effected in their social and political condition. The sense of their own power has been animated by brilliant successes, checkered by sudden alternations of fortune, and resulting, to the mass of the people, in bitter disappointment. Great events have passed before their eyes with the rapidity with which the scenes shift upon the stage, and the mutability of

private fortunes has outdone in real life the wonders of romance. Religion, since it lost its hold on the minds of the people, has been at times taken up and again laid aside as an implement of state, a part of the political machine. Moral restraints were swept away in the current of exciting passions, when the laws for the punishment of crime were involved in the downfall of political institutions, or their execution was forgotten in the hurry of those passing events, which absorbed the attention, as they involved the safety, of the government and the people. And these exciting changes, these convulsions in state affairs and in social life, have all occurred within a single lifetime. Many are still living who witnessed the opening scenes of the first revolution, who assisted in the destruction of the Bastille, and took the oath to support the constitution of 1789.

"A revolution in letters," says Victor Hugo, "is the necessary consequence of a political revolution." As applied to the recent history of France, the remark is certain ly true, though it will not hold, if, by a revolution, we understand a mere change in the form of government, which often occurs without any great alteration in the habits or feelings of the people. But, when the change has affected all classes and conditions in the state, when their opinions as well as their circumstances have been modified and shaped by the course of political events, it is only a truism to say, that the literature of the people will also be revolutionized. It will undergo as rapid a metamorphosis, it will exhibit as strange features, as have appeared in the political aspect and condition of the country. Among the various branches of letters, prose fiction, poetry, and the drama will naturally be the first to show the influence of external events, and to appear under the most striking transformations. According as the writer's sphere of effort lies near to life and manners, or as his work pretends to display a copy or a shadow of real events and things, or to embody personal or national feelings, so will it contain the visible impress of those great occurrences, which have been operating upon the character of the people. After such a troublous period, as the last half-century has been for France, we might well expect that the imaginative and fanciful department of her literature would display more license, energy, and extravagance, than before; that more improbable fictions would be conceived, more fantastic poetry be

written, and a struggle of wilder passions be exhibited on the stage. It was impossible, that the old principles of taste, the stiff laws of a rather pedantic school of criticism, should any longer retain their supremacy. They were swept away with as much hurry and enthusiasm, as the National Assembly showed when they abrogated the remains of the Feudal system. In both these cases, a temporary anarchy succeeds. The nation was so eager to do away with the old law, that it is content for a time to remain without any substitute for it, to be guided only by passion and impulse. When the novelty of such a state of things has ceased to charm, and its practical inconveniences begin to be felt, an attempt will be made to erect a new system, and once more to draw order and method out of chaos. French Romanticism is too violent and convulsive in its character to show much promise of long life or lasting effort. Its present fever heat will most probably be followed by a severe chill.

We have already hinted that Alexander Dumas, though at times a pleasing, and even a brilliant writer, and certainly a very acceptable one to his countrymen, is not the ablest or the most distinguished representative of the new school of prose fiction and the drama in France. He is too much of a hack author, adapting his works with great readiness and skill to the popular taste, but leaving upon them no strong and distinct image of his individual character. He is much inferior to Victor Hugo in invention, variety, picturesque description, and all the higher attributes of a poet and a dramatist; and to George Sand in the intense conception of passion and in eloquence of style. But he is very lively and graphic in manner, is often successful in the exhibition of character, and shows himself a thorough student of effect. His great aim apparently is to startle the reader, and his contrivances for this end are frequently happy, though sometimes they flash in the pan. But he is not capable of exciting the deeper passions, or of keeping up a strong emotion, while the effort to do so is very apparent. The influence of his dramatic experience is quite visible, even when he is occupied with prose fiction, history, or the medley which he calls travels; he is continually making points, that remind one strongly of the clap-traps of a third-rate tragedian. His figures are bold, and sometimes magnificent; but they are often marred by bad taste, and not unfrequently sink into bathos.