Product Description

Selected as a Top Ten Book of the Year by The Washington Post: the newly discovered last novel by the author of The Three Musketeers.

Rousing, big, spirited, its action sweeping across oceans and continents, its hero gloriously indomitable, the last novel of Alexandre Dumas—lost for 125 years in the archives of the National Library in Paris—completes the oeuvre that Dumas imagined at the outset of his literary career.

Indeed, the story of France from the Renaissance to the nineteenth century, as Dumas vibrantly retold it in his numerous enormously popular novels, has long been absent one vital, richly historical era: the Age of Napoleon. But no longer. Now, dynamically, in a tale of family honor and undying vengeance, of high adventure and heroic derring-do, The Last Cavalier fills that gap.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #607485 in Books
• Published on: 2008-10-07
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 864 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. This first English translation of the last, previously unknown novel by Dumas (1802–1870) offers a stunning completion to his fictional mapping of French history. The plot centers on Compte Hector de Sainte Hermine, a royalist captured and imprisoned by Bonaparte. Part one finds him caught in the political intrigue of 1801–1804, as Napoleon moves from first consul to emperor. In part two, Hector, now known as René, is released from jail; he signs onto a French corsair as a common seaman, but his noble birth, superb education and martial abilities soon elevate him in rank. The next 300 pages slosh with swashbuckling sea adventure, casting heroic romance against the background of Napoleon's ultimate fall. It's Dumas at his best, but alloyed: asides; minibiographies; commentaries on fashion, manners, geography and history; and flashbacks pile up unendingly, leavened with farcical humor and witty punditry. Although it lacks the polish of The Three Musketeers and the concision of The Count of Monte Cristo, this capacious, rambling, unfinished account of the Napoleonic era represents vintage Dumas and an intensely personal vision of the time. (Nov.)
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From The New Yorker
This long-lost novel by the nineteenth-century master of the swashbuckler was discovered in decidedly twentieth-century fashion, on microfilm in the National Library in Paris. A breathless seven hundred and fifty pages, the unfinished manuscript nominally concerns a young velvet-suited nobleman "whose pallor bespoke a strange destiny": to redeem his family’s Royalist past, he must serve as a common sailor on a corsair. But Dumas seems only intermittently interested in his hero, lingering instead on Napoleon, still an emperor-in-waiting, bemoaning his marriage to spendthrift Josephine ("I shall keep divorce legal in France, if only so I can leave that woman"). Amid stagecoach heists, assassination attempts, and the occasional tiger hunt, sudden details gleam: a condemned aristocrat requests the services of a barber en route to the scaffold; a lovelorn girl conspires to commit suicide by snakebite.
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From The Washington Post
Reviewed by Muchael Dirda

Back when I was about 11 or 12, I read The Count of Monte Cristo in a highly abridged children's edition. This "Golden Picture Classic" -- which lies before me, somewhat tattered, as I write -- was (and is) an oversized paperback, priced at 50 cents. Though little more than a précis of the actual novel, which in my French edition requires 1,500 dense pages and two fat volumes, this cheap throwaway, printed on the pulpiest of papers, marked a watershed in my young life. The Hound of the Baskervilles might have been more spookily atmospheric, Journey to the Center of the Earth more wondrous, and King Solomon's Mines arguably more adventure-filled, but for page-turning narrative excitement The Count of Monte Cristo was unbeatable. I read the book over and over. I have never forgotten it.

But then, no one ever does. Its theme -- self-transformation -- is particulary appealing to the American psyche. A simple sailor, Edmond Dantès, is framed by those he trusted and sentenced to life in solitary confinement on the Château d'If. There he unexpectedly encounters a fellow prisoner, the Abbé Faria, who instructs him in languages, manners, swordsmanship and all that a gentleman needs to know. Then, after 15 years, Dantès finally escapes, retrieves a fabulous treasure and spends yet another nine years further preparing himself for his revenge. When he re-emerges on the stage of Europe after nearly 25 years, it is no longer as a naive young innocent but as the mysterious and implacable Count of Monte Cristo.

This basic plot -- the stuff of night-school classes and daydreams -- can be seen everywhere, in the lives of self-made men ("I will prepare myself and some day my chance will come" -- Abraham Lincoln), in literary classics such as The Great Gatsby and in Hollywood blockbusters such as "The Mask of Zorro." Yet this novel may not even be Dumas's finest work. That honor arguably belongs to The Three Musketeers, the greatest swashbuckler of them all, packed with political intrigue, derring-do, hell-for-leather horse rides and flashing swords. Its heroes -- Athos, Porthos and Aramis -- soar above the petty concerns of this corrupt and contemptible world: They are pure spirits of the masculine, full of bawdy, gorgeous life, eating, drinking, fighting and making love with Rabelaisian gusto and no thought of the morrow. Just as they enchanted young d'Artagnan, so they enchant us to this day.

Alexandre Dumas (1802-1870) was himself just such a larger-than-life figure -- as was his father. An illegitimate mulatto of Herculean strength, Thomas-Alexandre Dumas rose from the ranks to become a general and, for a time, Napoleon's rival. But he died relatively young, leaving his family destitute. Despite only the most elementary education, Alexandre nonetheless made the Dumas name world-famous, first as the most popular French playwright of the early 19th century and then as a novelist to rival Walter Scott. With the help of research assistants, this literary dynamo produced an astonishing 300 volumes, many of them historical novels intended to convey the sweep of French history from the Renaissance to the 19th century. Oddly, though, Dumas never seems to have written a full-fledged work covering the crucial Napoleonic era.

Or so it was believed until Claude Schopp -- France's pre-eminent Dumas scholar -- discovered that, during the very last year of his life, the novelist, though ill, suffering and out of critical favor, had somehow turned out a daily newspaper serial about "the adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the age of Napoleon." Because of Dumas's death, the novel was never finished and consequently never published in book form. So Schopp assembled all the newspaper installments and edited them. Le Chevalier de Sainte-Hermine appeared in France in 2005 and is now brought out in an excellent English translation by Lauren Yoder as The Last Cavalier. It's absolutely wonderful.

Yes, it's full of melodrama and coincidence, shamelessly studded with every possible romantic cliché and period flourish, and old-fashioned enough in its storytelling to wander into lengthy historical and biographical digressions. What's more, we only possess the first third or so of the original mammoth saga envisioned by its author. (A letter exists outlining the entire plot.) No matter. As a boy I could never stop reading Dumas, and, despite the intervening decades, that's still the case: I finished The Last Cavalier in a day.

Because of its scope, the book actually incorporates a handful of short novels and stories, some told in flashbacks. The first several hundred pages focus on Napoleon's consolidation of power, from just after the Egyptian campaign of 1799 to the discovery of the Cadoudal conspiracy in 1804. The novel announces this theme in its very opening sentence: " 'Now that we are in the Tuileries,' Bonaparte, the First Consul, said to Bourrienne, his secretary, as they entered the palace where Louis XVI had made his next-to-last stop between Versailles and the scaffold, 'we must try to stay.' "

At first The Last Cavalier seems almost light-hearted -- Josephine is so embarrassed by her shopping bills that she's afraid to tell Bonaparte -- but it darkens soon enough. In particular, we learn about the Saint-Hermine family of Bourbon loyalists. During the 1790s, first the father, and then his two eldest sons, die combating the new regime. The second son actually becomes a kind of Robin Hood, leader of the Companions of Jehu, who rob the government and support those fighting for the royal family, especially the Chouans. These native Bretons act like Indians out of James Fenimore Cooper: They snipe at the army regiments, fade away into the forests and communicate with owl hoots and bird whistles. Their leader, George Cadoudal, is courageous, noble, a true man of honor. But he is ultimately entangled in the webs of Napoleon's spymaster, Joseph Fouché, perhaps the most intriguing figure in The Last Cavalier -- ugly, coldly intelligent, ruthless and the only man Napoleon fears. Yet while his incessant plotting recalls Cardinal Richelieu in The Three Musketeers, he sometimes functions as a kind of Abbé Faria in his worldly-wise counsel to the young Hector de Sainte-Hermine.

Hector, the third and last son of his family, is oath-bound to carry on the battle for the Bourbon restoration. But circumstances lead to his being temporarily released from this vow, and he begins to dream of a happy, peaceful life. Deeply in love with Claire de Sourdis, he finds his love returned, and their marriage is soon planned. But at the very moment when Hector is to sign the marriage certificate, a messenger bursts into the room and insists that he step outside for a moment. The bridegroom never reappears. The Companions of Jehu have been unexpectedly reactivated. Hector, as honorable as his namesake, must obey their summons. And so, the witch's dread prophecy to Claire begins its fulfillment: "For fourteen years you will be the widow of a man who is still alive, and the rest of your life the wife of a dead man."

If it seems I've told a lot of the novel, trust me that I have merely described the arc of its action. There are dramatic individual stories galore -- the heroic martyrdoms of the Saint-Hermines, a magnificent battle between the Chouans and their enemies, the patient revenge of a beautiful woman, the shrewd detective work of the spy called Le Limousin who inexorably tracks down the would-be assassins of Napoleon and, best of all, the close-up portrait of the First Consul himself, a man utterly sure of his destiny.

At the cliff-hanger end of the first half of The Last Cavalier, Hector is awaiting execution. But Fouché, for reasons that puzzle even the spymaster, decides to save the young man. Imprisoned like Edmond Dantès, our hero reads and studies, exercises and develops his mind and body to perfection. After three years, Fouché then releases him but only on condition that he become a common sailor or soldier. Hector, taking the arch-romantic name of René, agrees to fight for France and ships out on a corsair that preys on English ships. He hopes only to die in action.

After adventures with storms, Malay pirates, tigers and pythons, not to overlook the battle of Trafalgar and a romantic interlude as tearful and overwrought as any in Chateaubriand, the Comte Sainte-Hermine again falls from grace. In the third part of the novel, he reappears as a soldier in Italy, where he tracks down bandits, wins the esteem of officers and peasants and captures the heart of every woman who sees him. And here, apart from a short fragment, The Last Cavalier breaks off.

As is fairly evident, Dumas intended Hector to be our viewpoint figure at many of the major theaters of war during the Napoleonic era. In this respect, he is a Gallic equivalent to Sharpe, the English soldier in Bernard Cornwell's admired modern novels about this same period. Though The Last Cavalier may be corny at times and is obviously padded in places (it includes a complete short biography of Gen. Hugo, the father of the poet Victor Hugo), such flaws hardly matter: These 800 pages almost turn themselves. Alexandre Dumas remains, now as ever, the Napoleon of storytellers.

Copyright 2007, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

Customer Reviews

Read only after Dumas' other Works
If you have read my reivews of Dumas' other works, you will see that I have said in the past that "Dumas never disappoints". However, I think that this book comes as close to that as ever. Although I say that, I still give the book 4 stars because I just like how Dumas writes. However, there is no question in my mind that his other works are much better. I will list them in order of my preference: 1) The Count of Monte Cristo; 2) The Three Musketeers; 3) 20 Years After; 4) The Knight of Maison Rouge; 5) Le Reine Margot; 6)The Vicomte de Bragelonne. I have not read the Black Tulip or the other 2 Musketeers books.

This book does have its good points. The history of the Count's family is very good. The wedding scene is also very good. The fencing parts of the stories are good. The history of the times is good but it takes a long time to get through. The part of the story in Burma is also a long part that has nothing to do with Nepolean. It was a little slow during these times. The other problem with the book is that it was not finished at the time of Dumas' death. However, that did not take too much away from the book. I also found that there was nothing that the Court could not do. He tries to get himself killed on many occasions so he can die an honorable death but only comes out smelling like a rose. It is as if he is super-human - which is fine for a little bit but not the whole story.

Overall, I was glad that I read it but I would rather have taken the time to read his other works first. If you have not read Dumas then you are really missing out on a great writer. If you have not read him and want to start, begin with his other works. I would suggest the unabridged version of the Count of Monte Cristo. It is long but well worth the read. When you have read many of his other works, then pick this one up. It is a good read but not as good as his other major works.

Given the above review, I can still say that Dumas does not disappoint.

Difficult to slog through. Unlike all other Dumas.
If you're a Dumas fanatic like me, you'll probably want to read this book just for closure, regardless of what I say! But I'll write a review anyway. The problem with a novel like this is that I don't know what flaws are attributable to Dumas and the possibility that he was slipping, or cutting corners, as he got older, and what's attributable to the person who finished writing the novel.

It could have been much better if it were written as two separate volumes: one, the general history of the Napoleonic era which is presented in the book, and the other, the history of the Comte de Sainte-Hermine. So much of this very large book has nothing at all to do with the titular character. In fact we are well into the book before the man ever shows up. Then in a chaperoned tete-a-tete with the woman he loves, he divulges the entire history of the Sainte-Hermine family to date. (So we don't learn about his previous history as it's happening, as with Edmond Dantes in "The Count of Monte Cristo"; we're simply given several pages of Sainte-Hermine hitting the highlights for his intended. They become engaged, and at the betrothal dinner he mysteriously vanishes before signing the wedding contract.

Then we have another huge section about Napoleon, the Royalist rebels, etc. A very long section! It was a very GOOD section but I'd totally forgotten about Sainte-Hermine when suddenly we learn he is in prison and begging Fouche to execute him rather than keep him a prisoner. This brief scene takes a few pages...then it's back to a whole big, big section about Napoleon and his troubles. It made me wonder why this book was titled after Sainte-Hermine, since up to about the midpoint of the book, he's a completely minor character...almost a glorified extra.

At the approximate middle of the book, however, the Comte gets out of prison (legally) and the narrative switches to actually being about his life as he is living it. From here to the end it's mostly a very entertaining story of Sainte-Hermine and what's happening in his life, with a few sprinkles of the regular history in the background. This is how I expected the book to be from the start. So it sort of evened out in the middle and got better as it went along.

This also suffers from comparisons to the similar Monte Cristo. In the latter, we know that Edmond has spent his jail time learning from the Abbe Faria and then that he spent the next X years undercover, learning things to create his Monte Cristo persona. Sainte-Hermine, by comparison, spends three years in prison, during which we are told that his hobby is reading. Afterwards, though, he comes directly out of prison and into the narrative, where he shows himself to be an expert at just about everything, including (!) chugging three bottles of champagne that have been poured into a big bowl, and showing no ill effects. Don't you thimk a man just out of a 3-year prison stint would have some difficulty holding his liquor?

So, as a Dumas fanatic I'm glad I read this, but I'd have to rank it absolute last on the Dumas list. If he had stuck to a plain historical novel of the time of Napoleon, then, well, it would probably still be last on the list, but not by as wide a margin.

Dumas' Last Stand
I haven't read Alexandre Dumas since I was a teen (a long time ago), but I remember "The Three Musketeers" and "The Count of Monte Cristo" quite well. Then again, what I remember best may be the movie versions I watched again and again as a kid. When I saw that a "lost" novel had been published for the first time, I thought it was time to revisit Dumas' work. I'm glad that I did.

As a finished unfinished novel, "The Last Cavalier" is fair and worth three "stars." It was originally published as a newspaper serial and Dumas never had the chance to re-edit/rewrite it for book publication as he did his other works. Dumas was paid by the word, and there are thousands here that would surely have been cut. The titular hero, Hector (René, Comte Leo) de Sainte-Hermine, is over the top invincible and incomparable. He has no flaws (in a Doc Savage, pulp fiction, sort of way), so it's hard to identify with him; and Dumas interrupts Hector's story too often with what's happening elsewhere in history. Did I mention he was paid by the word? Still, Hector's panache and romp through Napoleonic history is a tour de force worth reading. Characters like George Cadoudal, the corsair (privateer) Surcouf, Napoleon, Nelson at Trafalgar, and Minister of Police Fouché come alive with idiosyncrasies and feats of personal codes of honor to delight any swashbuckling fan.

For me, as a writer, what was even more fascinating was the book's preface by Claude Schopp, who found and reconstructed the novel. In it, Dumas is quoted as saying that he is "more a novelizing historian than a historical novelist." In this light, I look at the book as more of a history than a novel and am interested in re-exploring Dumas' other books from that perspective. Also, in the preface is a letter from Dumas outlining his complete plan for the novel. It is as complete a synopsis of the whole story as any editor could wish for. So it was great to be able to refer to that and see where and how Dumas added and changed the story line (Hector's entire time as a seaman and in India are not in the outline). This alone was worth the extra "star."

I highly recommend this book to any reader, Dumas fan or not.