Eugène Sue's début in journalism--_l'Homme-Mouche_--The merino
sheep--Eugène Sue in the Navy--He takes part in the battle of
Navarino--He furnishes a house--The last foil of youth--Another _Fils
de l'Homme_--Bossange and Desforges
Towards the end of 1825, Eugène Sue returned from Toulon. He found
_La Nouveauté_ in a most prosperous state. As his friend Ferdinand
Langlé was the manager; as Sue had just had an _à-propos_ played at
Toulon of which he was the author, he naturally became editor of the
paper. They asked him for articles, and he did four, a series entitled
_L'Homme-Mouche._
These were the first items by the author of _Mathilde_ and of the
_Mystères de Paris,_ which had been printed; it seems strange we
should give them here. Our Memoirs, as we have said, are the literary
archives of the first half of the nineteenth century; besides, it is
always interesting to artists to study the early start of men who have
attained to the height of our illustrious confrère.
The four articles which he wrote appeared on Monday, 23 January 1826,
Wednesday 25, Sunday 29, Tuesday 31.[1] We can see that the opposition
of our friend Eugène Sue does not date from yesterday.
Meantime, _La Nouveauté_ did not pay its contributors very well. On
the other hand, Dr. Sue remained inflexible: he had taken to heart not
only the wine drunk, but, still more, the wine they had spoiled! There
remained one source, of which they only availed themselves on great
occasions; this was a Louis XVI. enamel-backed watch, given by his
good godmother, the Empress Joséphine. In extreme cases, they took it
to the pawnshop and got 150 francs on it. This defrayed the expenses
of the Shrove Tuesday of 1826; but then, after holding out as long
as possible, he had to take the step of going away into the country.
Bouqueval offered the young men rural and frugal hospitality, so they
went there.
Easter arrived, and with it some guests; each had promised to bring his
share of food: one a lobster, another a meat pie, etc.; but, as ill
luck would have it, each counted on his neighbour, and, all of them
probably being short of money, none of them brought anything. They
went straight to the stables and killed a sheep: it was a magnificent
merino, which Dr. Sue was keeping for show purposes! It was skinned,
roasted and eaten up to the very last cutlet. When the doctor learnt
this fresh misdeed he got into an abominable temper! Happily, Eugène
Sue confronted these paternal outbreaks with admirable serenity. The
good lad had a charming nature, he was ever gay, joyous and laughing.
Is he still the same, now that he is a man? Care has lined his face,
and exile weighs heavily on his heart! Orders were given for Eugène
Sue to leave Paris. He went into the navy, and made two voyages to the
Antilles--hence, his novel _Atar Gull_ and his magnificent landscape
passages, which read like fairyland, seen through the fissures of a
stage curtain. Then he returned to France. A decisive battle was to be
fought against the Turks: Eugène Sue embarked in his official capacity
as adjutant on board the _Breslau,_ Captain la Bretonnière; he was
present at the battle of Navarino, and brought back as _spolia opima_
a magnificent Turkish costume--which, on his return, was eaten up to
the last bit of lace--a sabre and a Koran. Whilst living on the Turkish
costume, Eugène Sue, who by degrees was picking up the taste for
literature, had acted, with Desforges, _Monsieur le Marquis._ Finally,
about the same time, _Flick et Flock_, his first departure in the way
of a novel, appeared in _La Mode._
Meanwhile, Eugène's maternal grandfather died, leaving him nearly
75,000 francs. Here was an inexhaustible fortune! So the young poet,
who was then twenty-four, sent in his resignation to the ministre
de la marine, and furnished his house. We say that he furnished his
house, because Eugène Sue, artist by custom and instinct was the first
to furnish a suite of rooms in the modern fashion; he was the first
to have all those charming knick-knacks which no one then wanted, but
which everybody snatches at nowadays: coloured glasses, china plates,
Saxe china, renaissance chests, Turkish sabres Malayan daggers, etc.
Then he went to Gudin's studio and began to paint. We have said that
Eugène Sue drew or rather sketched, quite cleverly. He had, I remember,
brought an album from Navarino of twofold curiosity, both from the
illustrations, and from the artistic point of view. It was while
with the famous sea painter that the last of Eugène Sue's escapades
happened, and this closed the list of those youthful follies which had
made the society of Rousseau, Romieu and Eugène Sue notorious. We have
related in connection with the parody of _Henry IV._, the famous attack
made on the porter in the rue du Mont-Blanc, known by the nickname
of _Portier je veux de tes cheveux_, which found its way into _Les
Mystères de Paris_.
Gudin, who was then thirty, was already in the full tide of his talent
and the splendour of his renown; amateurs snatched at his works, women
quarrelled over the man Gudin, like all artists of a certain standing,
received letters from unknown women from time to time, desiring to make
his acquaintance, and making appointments with him for that purpose.
One day, he received two such both letters fixing the same hour. Gudin
could not break himself in two, and he spoke of his difficulty to
Eugène Sue. So Eugène Sue offered to take his place. It is but a step
from pupil to master; besides, there was a great physical resemblance
between the two men: they were the same height, both wore beards, had
dark hair, fine eyes, and splendid teeth; one was twenty-seven, and
the other thirty; the worst treated of the two unknown women could not
have cried out against the thief. Furthermore, they put the two letters
in a hat, and each took his out. From that moment, and during the rest
of the day, there were two Gudins and no Eugène Sue. Each went to his
appointed place that night; next day, both returned enchanted. The
thing might have lasted for ever, but inquisitiveness always destroys
women--witness Eve and Psyche. The lady who had obtained the false
Gudin as her share had artistic tastes; when she had made the painter's
acquaintance, she would insist upon visiting the studio to see Gudin
work, palette and paint-brush in hand. Among the number of inquisitive
women, we have forgotten Semele, who wanted to see her lover Jupiter in
all his splendour, and who was burned alive by a flash of lightning.
The false Gudin could not withstand the many pleadings, and consented
to grant a rendezvous to the beauteous _curieuse_ on the morrow. She
was to come at two o'clock in the afternoon, the most favourable time
of day for light on painting. At a quarter to two, Eugène Sue, clad in
magnificent livery, waited in Gudin's antechamber; at a few minutes
to two, the bell was tremulously rung by the happy visitor. Eugène
Sue went to open the door. The lady, eager to see everything, began
by casting her glances on the servant, who looked a smart, strapping
youth, and who bowed humbly before her. Her examination was followed by
a terrible cry. "Horrors! A lackey!..." The lady hid her face in her
handkerchief and ran precipitately down the stairs. At a masked ball
soon after, Eugène Sue met her again, and tried to renew acquaintance
with her; but she persisted in believing that he was still disguised,
and Eugène Sue could not get anything from her but the words he had
heard before--"Horrors! a lackey!..."
The campaign of Algiers arrived, and Gudin went with the expedition;
the two friends became separated. Eugène Sue took to literature.
_Atar Gull_ was begun at this period. Then came the July Revolution.
Eugène Sue and Desforges together wrote a comedy entitled _Le Fils de
l'Homme._ Barthélemy's poem will be recollected upon the same subject:
the King of Rome, a poetic figure, lonely and imprisoned at Schönbrünn,
as Napoleon had been at St. Helena. Youthful memories awoke in Eugène
Sue; he remembered that Joséphine had been his godmother, and that he
bore the name of Prince Eugène.
The comedy was written, but got no further. Not only had the Orleanist
reaction been rapid, but Desforges, one of its authors, had become
secretary to Maréchal Soult. But an author's conceit is a most
venturesome passion, just as poor girls may be seen to betray their
maternity through their maternal love. One day, when Desforges had
been breakfasting with Volnys, he drew the incendiary play from his
portfolio and read it to his host. Volnys is the son of a general of
the Empire. Volny's heart was melted with the reading.
"Leave me the manuscript," he said; "I want to read it again."
So Desforges left it him. Six weeks went by. A rumour went abroad
secretly in the literary world that a great excitement was being
prepared at the _Nouveautés._ People questioned what that event could
be.
Bossange was then the manager of the theatre; he collaborated with
Frédéric Soulié in two or three dramas, and was one of the cleverest
men in Paris. Bossange we say, was manager, and included our dear
Déjazet among the number of his staff. The two of them together were
known to be capable of doing anything. The rumour of this literary
event, which was to turn Paris upside down, reached the ears of
Desforges, buried away though he was in the recesses of his office. He
trembled, and a revelation came to him. Suppose the dramatic sensation
was to be the first performance of the _Fils de l'Homme!_ He decided
to go that very night to the Nouveautés, and to find out about it from
Bossange. Accordingly, by eight o'clock, Desforges was behind the wings.
"Oh! do not discuss your business with me to-night, my dear Desforges!"
said the manager to him. "I am in a state of despair! Such and such a
man (I forget who) has failed us with his play, and we are obliged at
the very last moment to give a play that was under rehearsal and not
properly learnt. Come, stage manager, is Déjazet ready?"
"Yes, Monsieur Bossange."
"Well, give the three raps and announce what we have arranged."
They did so; shouts went up of "Take your places on the stage!" and
Desforges was obliged to sit down like the others behind a wing.
The stage manager in a white collar and black coat went on the stage,
and after the usual three bows he said--
"Gentlemen, one of our actors having fallen ill at the last moment,
we are obliged to give you, instead of the second piece, a new comedy
which was to have been put on in three or four days' time. We beg you
to accept the exchange."
The audience to whom a new play was being offered instead of an old
drowned the manager's words with applause. The curtain fell, and rose
almost immediately afterwards. At this moment, Déjazet came down out of
his dressing-room in the uniform of an Austrian colonel.
"Ah! good heavens!" exclaimed Desforges, stopping him, "what are you
going to play?"
"To play? Why _le Fils del'Homme_ ... Come, let me pass, monsieur
author!"
Desforges' arms fell and Déjazet passed on.
The great event of the Théâtre des Nouveautés was in fact the
representation of _le Fils de l'Homme_; only, Bossange, who feared
some hindrance from the Government, had preserved the profoundest
secrecy and, as we see, played the comedy suddenly.[2]
"But, you may say, was there a censorship in 1830?"
"D'Artagnan, my good friend, take your hat off to the person who has
honoured us by putting that question to us, and salute profoundly, then
reply:
"Ah! monsieur, worse luck, there is always a censorship."
[Footnote 1: See Appendix.]
[Footnote 2: See the complete biography of Eugène Sue, in _Les Morts
vont vite,_ tome II. p. 1.]