By universal consent Alexandre Dumas (1802-1870), also known as Dumas pere, is now acknowledged the most entertaining of the French writers of romance. For variety of incidents, sprightliness of dialogue, and vividness of narrative no tales of adventure can compete with such works as The Three Musketeers or the Count of Monte Cristo. It is doubtful also, whether the life of any novelist comes as near as the life of Alexandre Dumas to what is expected of an entertaining work of fiction. Viewed as a hero of romance, the great novelist is almost as striking a figure as his picturesque and fascinating D'Artagnan, so that his Memoirs and the numerous volumes in which he relates the story of his travels seem to differ from his other narrative works only in the use, for the hero, of the first instead of the third person of the verb. But whether Dumas takes us through the halls and corridors of the Louvre, at the time of Catherine of Medici, Charles IX. or Henry III., to some treasure cave under the waters of the Mediterranean, to the Palais Royal, with Richelieu, or to the walls of Janina, with the terrible Ali-Pasha, he always holds us, wistfully listening to his wonderful story-telling, even with the look of the child carried away to fairy-land by the old tales of the nursery. What sort of works did Dumas bring out during this eventful life, in which so much time was given to pleasure, to passion, to outside activity, that none seemed to be left for the intense labor of literary production? As has already been remarked, it is as a dramatist that Dumas first won distinction, and it is to be here noticed that he is one of the very few writers who attained a very high rank both as authors of novels and of dramatic works. In France itself, Balzac, George Sand, Daudet, Zola, the great rivals of Dumas on the field of romance, have done comparatively little for the stage, and that little is not of such high excellence as to add very much to the fame that they justly possess as novelists. Hugo alone towers above all, and his magnificent poetical gifts shine no less in Les Miserables and in Ninety-Three than in Hernani or Ruy Blas. Outside of France we know the novels of Thackeray, Dickens, George Eliot, Freytag, Sienkiewicz, Tolstoy, D'Annunzio; their names owe nothing, or next to nothing, to dramatic activity. Not so with Dumas. His dramas stand out by themselves, and his place in the literary history of France would be a conspicuous one, even if not a single romance had ever come from his pen. The twenty volumes of his Theater are filled with thrilling dramas, some of which, indeed, are simply dramatized romances, but the most striking of which were conceived by him originally as dramatic works, and have not been treated by him in the more extended form of the novel. In fact, Dumas conceived life as a the conflict of human desires as expressed in human speech and revealed in human deeds; such is the all-absorbing theme of his thoughts, and in his hurried life he quite naturally chose for its manifestations, first the shorter, more condensed, and, let us add, more quickly remunerative form of the play. No wonder, therefore, that action, which is the chief element of the drama, should also be the main source of interest in his romance
This note regards Alexandre Dumas, père, the father of Alexandre Dumas, fils (son). For the son, see Alexandre Dumas fils.
Alexandre Dumas père, born Alexandre Dumas Davy de la Pailleterie, was a towering figure of 19th-century French literature whose historical novels and adventure tales earned global renown. Best known for The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and other swashbuckling epics, Dumas crafted stories filled with daring heroes, dramatic twists, and vivid historical backdrops. His works, often serialized and immensely popular with the public, helped shape the modern adventure genre and remain enduring staples of world literature. Dumas was the son of Thomas-Alexandre Dumas, a celebrated general in Revolutionary France and the highest-ranking man of African descent in a European army at the time. His father’s early death left the family in poverty, but Dumas’s upbringing was nonetheless marked by strong personal ambition and a deep admiration for his father’s achievements. He moved to Paris as a young man and began his literary career writing for the theatre, quickly rising to prominence in the Romantic movement with successful plays like Henri III et sa cour and Antony. In the 1840s, Dumas turned increasingly toward prose fiction, particularly serialized novels, which reached vast audiences through French newspapers. His collaboration with Auguste Maquet, a skilled plotter and historian, proved fruitful. While Maquet drafted outlines and conducted research, Dumas infused the narratives with flair, dialogue, and color. The result was a string of literary triumphs, including The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, both published in 1844. These novels exemplified Dumas’s flair for suspenseful pacing, memorable characters, and grand themes of justice, loyalty, and revenge. The D’Artagnan Romances—The Three Musketeers, Twenty Years After, and The Vicomte of Bragelonne—cemented his fame. They follow the adventures of the titular Gascon hero and his comrades Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, blending historical fact and fiction into richly imagined narratives. The Count of Monte Cristo offered a darker, more introspective tale of betrayal and retribution, with intricate plotting and a deeply philosophical core. Dumas was also active in journalism and theater. He founded the Théâtre Historique in Paris, which staged dramatizations of his own novels. A prolific and energetic writer, he is estimated to have written or co-written over 100,000 pages of fiction, plays, memoirs, travel books, and essays. He also had a strong interest in food and published a massive culinary encyclopedia, Le Grand Dictionnaire de cuisine, filled with recipes, anecdotes, and reflections on gastronomy. Despite his enormous success, Dumas was frequently plagued by financial troubles. He led a lavish lifestyle, building the ornate Château de Monte-Cristo near Paris, employing large staffs, and supporting many friends and relatives. His generosity and appetite for life often outpaced his income, leading to mounting debts. Still, his creative drive rarely waned. Dumas’s mixed-race background was a source of both pride and tension in his life. He was outspoken about his heritage and used his platform to address race and injustice. In his novel Georges, he explored issues of colonialism and identity through a Creole protagonist. Though he encountered racism, he refused to be silenced, famously replying to a racial insult by pointing to his ancestry and achievements with dignity and wit. Later in life, Dumas continued writing and traveling, spending time in Belgium, Italy, and Russia. He supported nationalist causes, particularly Italian unification, and even founded a newspaper to advocate for Giuseppe Garibaldi. Though his popularity waned somewhat in his final years, his literary legacy grew steadily. He wrote in a style that was accessible, entertaining, and emotionally reso
No podría decir de qué va la trama a cabalidad, puesto que no le presté mucha atención. Tampoco puedo decir que me haya interesado, a pesar de que involucra algunos pasajes con bastante acción. Mi gran problema aquí, que se extiende a muchos otros libros también, es que es ficción histórica con personajes reales en un rol prominente. No hay nada intrínsecamente malo en ello (al contrario, hay algunos libros así estupendos), pero no sólo muchos libros de ficción histórica no son buenos, sino que tratan a personas reales como ficticios, adjudicándoles pensamientos que no necesariamente corresponden con los verdaderos. Es como si el autor no tuviera suficiente confianza en su capacidad de crear personajes fuertes, y en lugar de eso va y dice "oigan, aquí hay personas de la vida reales, metamos las narices en cómo eran sus vidas privadas, ¿les parece?". Es hacer fanficción de personas de la vida real, y es de igual mal gusto. Aquí el protagonista es Manuel Filiberto, duque de Saboya durante las guerra italianas. El paje titular esconde un secreto que no llamaría spoiler como tal, ya que lo revela en el noveno capítulo (de casi sesenta), pero aun así no lo revelaré. No es realmente importante para la trama, de cualquier modo, y a pesar de que el paje en cuestión y otros personajes inventados parecen prometer, la narrativa los encaja en el rol de secundarios en favor de personas reales como el ya mencionado duque o Enrique II, rey de Francia. Así que no, no me gustó. A otros tal vez podría, pero el problema es que no logró agarrar mi atención y me forzó a leer rápido sólo para terminarlo, sin absorber la lectura.
Most people never read much Dumas beyond The Three Musketeers and possibly its sequels or The Count of Monte Cristo. There is a reason for this: some Dumas is really badly written.
Actually, the book has a lot of good elements. But I can’t see anyone getting away with the structure these days.
The book opens with a large group of adventurers. We spend a few chapters finding out about them and trying to keep them straight. And then the book suddenly jumps to the character Emmanuel Philibert, and we don’t hear a thing about the adventurers for nearly half the book. As far as I can tell, they’re only there to give the viewpoint of the besiged in the Saint Quentin chapters; several of them disappear along the way, and several story threads are left hanging. Unlike Count of Monte Cristo, where the disparate characters and story lines finally link up in the end, Page never quite brings them together into a whole.
I like Emanuel Philibert, and some of the incidents are interesting; I also found the character of Queen Catherine interesting, having gotten a different view of her from Roessner's The Stars Dispose. But overall, the only reason I can see rereading this book is if I ever volunteered to scan it for Gutenberg or some such.
Daggers, Dukes, and Dumas: The Page of the Duke of Savoy Is a Swashbuckling Surprise
I went into The Page of the Duke of Savoy thinking I’d get a standard historical adventure. What I got instead was classic Alexandre Dumas chaos—in the best possible way. This isn’t just a tale about royal courts and secret plans. It’s about courage, betrayal, ambition, and yes—romance—with a generous splash of intrigue.
We follow young Emmanuel Philibert, the Duke of Savoy, during the tangled politics of 16th-century Europe. But the real star? The page. Mysterious, sharp, loyal, and not what they seem at all. And trust me, when the truth comes out, it’s delicious.
Dumas, as always, knows how to move a story. There are duels in dark alleys, whispered conspiracies in candlelit halls, and characters who speak like they were born to monologue dramatically. I loved every bit of it.
And while there’s plenty of cloak-and-dagger action, the heart of the story is loyalty—what it means to serve, to protect, and to choose honor over safety. The page’s devotion to the Duke is both touching and fierce, and that emotional thread kept me turning pages long after midnight.
The writing is fast, bold, and full of charm. You don’t read Dumas to analyze. You read him to feel the thrill of history dressed in velvet and danger.
The Page of the Duke of Savoy isn’t his most famous work, but it might be one of his most enjoyable. It’s vivid, heartfelt, and unapologetically fun. I didn’t just read it—I lived it.
Să strămutăm dintr-o dată, fără prefaţă, fără prealabile consideraţii, pe acei dintre cititorii noştri care nu se tem să facă, împreună cu noi, un salt de trei secole În trecut, pentru a-i pune În prezenţa unor oameni cu care trebuie să le facem cunoştinţă şi În mijlocul unor evenimente la care îi vom face să asiste.
Suntem În 5 mai, anul 1555.
Henric al II-lea domneşte În Franţa;
Maria Tudor, în Anglia;
Carol-Quintul stăpâneste Spania, Germania, Flandra, Italia şi cele două Indii, adică a şasea parte a lumii.
Scena se deschide În apropierea orăşelului Hesdin- Fert, pe care îl termină de reclădit Emmanuel-Philibert, prinţul de Piemont, pe temeliile fostului Hesdin-leVieux, cucerit de el şi ras de pe suprafaţa pământului cu un an înainte.
― Deci, călătorim În acea regiune a vechii Franţe care se chema pe atunci Artois şi care astăzi se numeşte deparmentul Pas-de-Calais.
Am spus a vechii Franţe, deoarece pentru un moment Artois-ul a fost alipit la patrimoniul regilor noştri de către Philippe-Auguste, învingătorul de la Saint-Jean-d’Acre şi de la Bouvines; dar după ce a fost ataşat, în 1180, domeniului regal al Franţei şi dăruit apoi de Ludovic cel sfânt În 1237 fratelui său mezin Robert, se înstrăinează În mâinile a trei femei, Mahaud, Ioana I-a şi Ioana a II-a, trecând la trei case diferite. Apoi, cu Margareta sora Ioanei a II-a şi fiica Ioanei I-a, ajunge În stăpânirea contelui Ludovic de Mâle, a cărui fiică îl trece odată cu comitatele Flandrei şi Nevers, casei ducilor de Burgundia. În sfârşit, Carol Temerarul murind, Maria de Burgundia, ultimă moştenitoare a numelui colosal şi a avuţiilor imense ale tatălui ei, avea să adauge În ziua căsătoriei sale cu Maximilian, fiul împăratului Frederic al III-lea, renume şi bogăţii domeniului casei de Austria, unde dispărură mistuindu-se asemeni unui fluviu ce se pierde În apele oceanului.
Asta însemna o mare pierdere pentru Franţa, căci Artois-ul era o provincie frumoasă şi bogată. Aşa că, de trei ani de zile, cu noroc schimbător şi soartă capricioasă, Henric al II-lea şi Carol-Quintul luptau într-o vajnică încleştare corp la corp, picior la picior, frunte la frunte; Carol-Quintul ca s-o păstreze, Henric al II-lea ca s-o recucerească.
În timpul acestui război înverşunat, în care fiul regăsea pe vechiul duşman al tatălui său şi, la fel ca acesta, avea să aibă Marignanul şi Pavia sa, fiecare avusese parte de zile bune şi zile rele, victorii şi înfrângeri. Franţa văzuse armata lui Carol-Quintul părăsind În dezordine Metz-ul asediat şi cucerise Marienbourg, Bouvines şi Dinant; Imperiul, la rândul său, luase cu asalt Thérouanne şi Hesdin şi furios de înfrângerea suferită la Metz dăduse foc unuia şi răsese de pe suprafaţa pământului pe celălalt.
Am comparat Metz-ul cu Marignan-ul şi nu exagerăm. O armată de cincizeci de mii de infanterişti, paisprezece mii de cai, decimată de frig, de molime şi, să mai adăugăm, de curajul ducelui Francisc de Guise şi a garnizoanei franceze, se mistui ca un abur, dispăru ca un fum, lăsând drept singură urmă a existenţei sale zece mii de morţi, două mii de corturi şi o sută douăzeci de tunuri.
Taking both books together as a whole to review is tough. Volume 1 is that of ‘The Borgias’, an anthology and history of French/ Italian Wars. Both books had little to do with ‘The Two Dianas’ and the same can be said by the title. There was no plot ‘overall’ for “a page” and “duke”. It came to materialise in parts in volume 1 and that was it.
Having said that, Volume 2 was most definitely the superior of the two books, not amazing but better but overall, not Dumas’ best work(s)
Alexandre Dumas is one of the greatest writers that ever lived, IMHO. This book is one of his finest and should not be missed by Dumas fans.
Reading novels for a brief outline of a story has no place for Dumas. Yet he is enjoyable and fulfilling. Each time I finish a book, I am left with awe and admiration. Why I wasn't introduced to his works earlier in life, I don't know.
Author of Count of Monte Cristo and the Three Musketeers is in top form.