In
October we know he wrote to Dickens in London, proposing to pay him a
visit, not necessarily to stay in the English novelist's own home.
Though in reply he was given a hearty and pressing invitation, this
apparently fell through, may be because Dickens was just then changing
his residence and did not expect to be free of the resulting
derangement before the 1st of December.
It
was in December that Dumas finally determined to seek for quiet and the
opportunity for continuous work in Brussels. There he settled on the
11th of the month, remaining in the Belgian capital, save for flying
visits to Paris, for just over two years.
Such then is the background for Vn Gil Bias en Californie, showing
us a more than usually harassed Alexandre Dumas. Plays and romances,
though written, now returned a seriously diminished income, and that
just at the time when money was more than ever in demand. The few
glimpses we get show us the man seeking constantly for an escape from
galling restrictions and hampering details.
Is
it not likely that here lies the cause of sudden departure for Enghien
on that 11th of July, only to come instead, by force of circumstances,
to the near-by neglected village of Montmorency?
What
was the purpose of the journey? Almost certainly merely the search for
a few days' peace. Yet there was seldom such a condition in the life of
Dumas without the use of his pen, without which he experienced the
tortures of frustration. He was now at the very peak of his versatile
vigour and his literary productivity. In what way would he be likely to
amuse himself during this week of truant-playing? Doubtless Dumas fils answers
this question for us when he relates that in middle-life his father was
subject to occasional bouts of severe intestinal pain. On such
occasions, when the suffering became too acute, he would take up a book
and read; if it became worse, he would pace the room; but should it
continue to increase, he would return to his desk and work! Yes, beyond
question it was to his pen he turned when he found himself ensconced in
the quiet backwater of Montmorency.
Always
there would be behind him the spectre of needed money, and this may
have induced the thought of a "travel volume" in place of a romance
proper and definite, with the hope that an editor would trust it might
evade the sharp eyes of the gatherer of the tax centimes, and so bring
in a quick return. At least he would be looking for something different
from the works already in course of production, and in some
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