When Dumas actually did write scenic descriptions, they were exceedingly graphic,—though not verbose,—and exceedingly picturesque,—though not sentimental,—as witness the following lines which open the tale—though he does make use a little farther on of the now trite tag, “See Naples and die.”
“Every morning on awakening I was in the habit of resting my elbows on the window-sill and gazing far out over the limpid and sparkling mirror of the Tyrrhenian Sea.... At night the bay is so intensely blue that, under more favourable conditions, it resembles those leaden-hued lakes, such as Avernus, the Fucine Lake, or Lake Agnano,—all in the neighbourhood of Naples, which cover the craters of extinct volcanoes.”
The story gives further a wonderful pen-portrait of Ladislas I. of Hungary, of Jerusalem, and of Sicily, and of the barbaric torture of “The Question,” which was performed upon the aspiring lover of Joanna of Naples.
Rome figures chiefly in “The Count of Monte Cristo,” wherein half a dozen chapters are devoted to the “Eternal City.” Here it is that Monte Cristo first meets Albert de Morcerf, son of one of that trio of enemies on whom the count has sworn revenge. De Morcerf, enjoying the pleasures of the Roman carnival, is captured by bandits, from whom he is rescued by the count, who, in saving the son, makes the first move of vengeance against the father.
Various interesting parts of Rome are described and touched upon,—the Teatro Argentino, the Colosseum, the Plaza del Popolo—scene of the public executions of that time,—the catacombs of San Sebastian, and many others. The characteristic and picturesque manners and customs of the Romans, from noblesse to peasants, are set down here in vivid and graphic style; and it is clearly plain that when Dumas sojourned in Rome he “did as the Romans do.”
Dumas’ familiarity with Switzerland was no greater or no less than his knowledge of Spain, of Italy, of Russia, or of Corsica. In his volumes of travel, “Impressions du Voyage,” are many charming bits of narrative which might well be extracted and elaborated into what is otherwise known as fiction. With regard to “Pauline,” this is exactly what did happen, or, rather, the relationship between the Pauline of the novelette and the Pauline of “La Voyage en Suisse” is one based upon a common parentage.
Switzerland early attracted Dumas’ attention. He took his first tour in the cantons in 1832, partly as a means of convalescing from a severe illness, and partly because he was in danger of arrest for the too active part taken by him in the public funeral of General Lamarque and the riots that followed. No sooner was Dumas en route than the leaves of his note-book were torn asunder and despatched forthwith to the then newly founded Revue des Deux Mondes.
At Flüelen, that high Alpine pass, the mysterious veiled Pauline de Meulien and her cavalier, Alfred de N——, make their first appearance. One feels intuitively that here are the elements of a drama, of which the author will avail himself before long. The voyages continue, however, and the veiled lady fails to reappear until the end of the journey, when another transitory glimpse of her is had at Pfeffers.
This Pauline’s adventures evidently demanded more space than the travels could afford, and became ultimately a novelette.
“Pauline” is one of Dumas’ early attempts at fiction, and is told with originality, and a very considerable skill. Nearly twenty years after “Pauline” was written, Dumas told us that he met the counterpart of the villain of the story, Horace de Beuzeval, who consigned the beautiful Pauline to a living burial in the old abbey vault on the coast of Normandy, near Trouville.