"SIRE:--In 1830, and, indeed, even to-day, there are three men at the head of French literature. These three men are Victor Hugo, Lamartine, and myself. Although I am the least of the three, the five continents have made me the most popular, probably because the one was a thinker, the other a dreamer, while I am merely a writer of commonplace tales." This letter goes on to plead the cause of his play, and from this circumstance the censorship was afterward removed. A story is told of an incident which occurred at a rehearsal of "Les Trois Mousquetaires" at the "Ambigu." This story is strangely reminiscent of another incident which happened at a rehearsal of Halévy's "Guido et Génevra," but it is still worth recounting here, if only to emphasize the indomitable energy and perspicacity of Dumas. It appears that a _pompier_--that gaudy, glistening fireman who is always present at functions of all sorts on the continent of Europe--who was watching the rehearsal, was observed by Dumas to suddenly leave his point of vantage and retire. Dumas followed him and inquired his reason for withdrawing. "What made you go away?" Dumas asked of him. "Because that last act did not interest me so much as the others," was the answer. Whereupon Dumas sent for the prompt-book and threw that portion relating to that particular tableau into the fire, and forthwith set about to rewrite it on the spot. "It does not amuse the _pompier_," said Dumas, "but I know what it wants." An hour and a half later, at the finish of the rehearsal, the actors were given their new words for the seventh tableau. In spite of the varied success with which his plays met, Dumas was, we may say, first of all a dramatist, if construction of plot and the moving about of dashing and splendid figures counts for anything; and it most assuredly does. This very same qualification is what makes the romances so vivid and thrilling; and they do not falter either in accessory or fact. The cloaks of his swashbucklering heroes are always the correct shade of scarlet; their rapiers, their swords, or their pistols are always rightly tuned, and their entrances and their exits correctly and most appropriately timed. When his characters represent the poverty of a tatterdemalion, they do it with a sincerity that is inimitable, and the lusty throatings of a D'Artagnan are never a hollow mockery of something they are not. Dumas drew his characters of the stage and his personages of the romances with the brilliance and assurance of a Velasquez, rather than with the finesse of a Praxiteles, and for that reason they live and introduce themselves as cosmopolitans, and are to be appreciated only as one studies or acquires something of the spirit from which they have been evolved.