Joseph Marie Sue, known as Eugène Sue, is the most notable
French exponent of the melodramatic style in fiction. Sue was
born in Paris on December 10, 1804 He was the son of a
physician in the household of Napoleon, and followed his
father's profession for a number of years. The death of his
father brought him a handsome fortune, upon the receipt of
which he devoted himself exclusively to literature. His first
novel, "Kernock, the Pirate," which appeared in 1830, was only
in a small measure successful. It was followed in quick
succession by four others, but with like results. His next
attempt was the quasi-historical "Jean Cavalier." About this
time Sue became imbued with the socialistic ideas that were
then spreading through France, and his attempt to express
these in fiction produced his most famous work, "The Mysteries
of Paris," which was published in 1842. The story first
appeared as a feuilleton in the "Journal des Débats." Its
success was remarkable, exceeded only by its tremendous
popularity in book form. "The Mysteries of Paris" is partly
melodrama; it has faults both in construction and in art; its
characters are mere puppets, dancing hither and thither at the
end of their creator's string. Yet withal the novel brought
about many legislative changes in Paris through the light
which it cast on existing legal abuses. Sue died on August 3,
1859.
_I_
One cold, rainy evening towards the end of October 1838, a man of
athletic build wearing an old straw hat and ragged serge shirt and
trousers dived into the City ward of Paris, a maze of dark, crooked
streets which spreads from the Palace of Justice Notre Dame. This
district is the Mint, the haunt of a great number of low malefactors who
swarm in the low drinking-dens.
The man we noticed slackened his pace, feeling that he was "on his own
ground." It was very dark and gusts of rain lashed the walls.
"Good arternoon, La Goualeuse (Sweet-Throat)" said he to one of a group
of girls sheltering under a projecting window. "You're the very girl to
stand some brandy."
"I'm out of money, Slasher," said the girl trembling; for the man was
the terror of the neighbourhood.
He grasped her arm, but she wrenched herself loose and fled down a dark
alley, pursued by the ruffian.
"I'll have you," he exclaimed after a few seconds as he seized in his
powerful hand one altogether as soft and slight.
"You shall dance for it," a masculine voice broke in, and under the soft
delicate skin of the hand the Slasher felt himself grasped by muscles of
iron. For some seconds nothing was heard save the sounds of a deadly
strife.
The struggle was short, for the ruffian, although of athletic make and
of first rate ability in rough and tumble fights, found he had met his
master; he measured his length on the ground.
Burning with rage the Slasher returned to the charge, whereupon the
defender of La Goualeuse showered upon the cut-throat's head a
succession of blows so weighty and crushing and so completely out of the
French mode of fighting that the Slasher was mentally as well as bodily
stunned by them and gave up, muttering, "I'm floored. Except the
Skeleton with his iron bones and the Schoolmaster, no one till now could
brag of having set his foot on my neck."
"Well, come and drink a glass and you shall know who I am," said the
Unknown. "Come, don't nurse a grudge against me."
"Bear malice? Not a bit of it! You're best man, make no mistake!"
The three, now upon the best terms, directed their steps towards a
tavern. As the Unknown followed his companions a charcoal-seller
approached him and whispered in German, "Be on your guard, _Your
Highness_!" The Unknown waved his hand carelessly and entered the
tavern.
Over their drinks the three related to each other their histories.
The Slasher was a man of tall stature, with light hair and enormous red
whiskers. Notwithstanding his terrible surname his features expressed
rather brutal hardihood and unconquerable boldness, than ferocity. In
his childhood he had strolled about with an old rag and bone picker, who
almost knocked the life out of him. He had never known his parents. His
first employment was to help knockers cut horses' throats at Montfauçon
till cutting and slashing became a rage with him and he was turned out
of the slaughter-house for spoiling the hides. Later he enlisted and
served three years. Then one day the bullying of the sergeant roused the
old rage and he turned on him and cut and slashed as if he had been in
the slaughter-house. That got him fifteen years in the hulks. Now he was
a lighterman on the Seine rafts.
Sweet-Throat was not over sixteen and a half. A forehead of the whitest
surmounted a face perfectly oval and of angelic expression, such as we
see in Raphael's beauties. She was also called "Fleur-de-Marie,"
doubtless on account of the maiden purity of her countenance. She, too,
had never known her parents. When she was about seven years of age she
lived with an old and one-eyed woman, called Screech-Owl because her
hooked nose and round green eye made her resemble an owl that had lost
its eye. She taunted the child with being picked up from the streets and
sent her out begging, rewarding her with beatings if she did not bring
her at least six pence at night, until at last she ran away from
Screech-Owl and hid in a wood-yard for the night. Next day she was
found, taken before a magistrate and sent to a reformatory as a vagrant
until she was sixteen. It was a perfect paradise compared to
Screech-Owl's miserable roost. But when she came out she fell into the
hands of the Ogress who kept the inn they were now in. The clothes she
stood in belonged to the Ogress, she owed her for board and lodgings and
could not stir from her or she must be taken up as a thief.
Rudolph (for so we shall call the defender of La Goualeuse) listened
with deep interest to her recital, made with touching frankness. Misery,
destitution, ignorance of the world, had destroyed this wretched girl,
cast alone and unprotected on the immensity of Paris. He involuntarily
thought of a beloved child whom he had lost, who had died at six, and
would have been, had she lived, like Fleur-de-Marie, sixteen and a half
years old.
Rudolph appeared to be about thirty-six, tall, graceful, of a
contemplative air, yet with a haughty and imperious carriage of the
head. In other respects he sported with ease the language and manners
which gave him a perfect resemblance to the Ogress's other guests. He
represented himself as a painter of fans.
Presently the Schoolmaster entered the inn, with a woman. He was a
powerful, fleshy fellow with a face mutilated and scarred in a most
horribly repugnant fashion. The woman was old and her green eye, hooked
nose, and countenance, at once reminded Rudolph of the horrible woman of
whom Goualeuse had been the victim. Suddenly seizing his arm, Goualeuse
whispered "Oh! The Owl! The one-eyed woman!"
At this moment the Schoolmaster approached the table and said to Rudolph
"If you don't hand the wench over to me, I'll smash you."
"For the love of heaven, defend me," cried Goualeuse to Rudolph.
He rose and was about to attack the Schoolmaster when the
charcoal-dealer rushed into the inn, and coming up to him whispered in
German, "Your Highness, the countess and her brother are at the end of
the street."
At these words, Rudolph threw a louis on the counter and hurried towards
the door. The Schoolmaster attempted to stop him but fell heavily under
two or three blows straight from the shoulder.
Soon after he had gone two strangers entered, one in a military
frock-coat, the other easily detected as a woman in male attire. She was
the Countess Sarah Macgregor. They ordered drinks and proceeded to make
inquiries after Rudolph. When they left, the Schoolmaster and the
Screech-Owl followed them and robbed them in a dark street. But they
suffered the robbery quietly and even offered the ruffian and his woman
more to lay a trap for M. Rudolph. They parted, but an invisible
witness--the Slasher--had been present. Alarmed at the perils which
threatened his new friend, he resolved to warn him.
_II_
On the morrow Rudolph again made his way to the tavern and met the
Ogress, with whom he had a short conversation which resulted in his
paying La Goualeuse's debts to the old hag and taking the girl for a
drive in the country. They spent the day roaming about the fields.
Towards evening the carriage stopped at a farm near a pretty village and
to her amazed delight Rudolph told Fleur-de-Marie that she might stay
there with Mrs. George, the mistress of the farm. He explained his
sympathy for her in the loss of the child who would have been her age.
Fleur-de-Marie could not reply. She seized his hand, and before he could
prevent her, raised it to her lips with an air of modest submission;
then she followed Mrs. George, who was to play the character of her
aunt.
Before he left, Rudolph said to Mrs. George, "Marie will at least find a
corner in your heart?"
"Yes, I shall devote my time to her as I should be giving it to _him_,"
she said with emotion.
"Come, do not be again discouraged. If our search has been unsuccessful
hitherto, perhaps--"
"May the good God help you, M. Rudolph. My son would now be twenty. His
father would never reveal whether he lives. Since he was condemned to
the galleys, entreaties, prayers and letters have all been unanswered."
The next day Rudolph heard from the Slasher of the plot against him and
arranged to meet the Schoolmaster on the pretext of having a profitable
business on hand. The prospect of gain overcame the Schoolmaster's
suspicions and he and Screech-Owl met Rudolph in an inn. Rudolph
unfolded his scheme of entering a house in the Allee des Veuves, the
residence of a doctor gone into the country. The Schoolmaster agreed,
but insisted on their remaining together till the evening. On leaving
the inn Rudolph dropped a note, which he saw picked up by the
pseudo-charcoal-dealer, now attired as a gentleman.
The three retired to an inn of evil appearance, while Screech-Owl went
out to reconnoitre the house and grounds. She returned to the inn with a
favourable report. Suddenly the Schoolmaster threw himself on Rudolph
and hurled him into the cellar, locking the door behind him.
Rudolph's efforts to free himself were in vain. For hours he lay there,
gasping for breath. Suddenly, when he was about to suffocate, the door
was broken open, and he found himself fainting in the arms of the
Slasher.
When Rudolph recovered consciousness he was in his house, attended by
his doctor, a negro and the Slasher.
The Schoolmaster and the Screech-Owl had come to enter the house. The
Screech-Owl had remained at the gate to watch, but the Slasher, who had
observed all, had silenced her with a blow. Following the Schoolmaster
in, he came upon him as he was overcoming one of Rudolph's men and
downed him with another blow. Then the two robbers, being bound, were
carried in.
"Order them to bring him here," said Rudolph calmly, and the
Schoolmaster was carried in, bound with ropes. Rudolph addressed him.
"Escaped from the hulks, to which you were sentenced for life, you are
the husband of Mrs. George. What have you done with her son?"
Believing his hour was come he trembled and whimpered "mercy." He
confessed all, even his crimes, his murders, speaking now in the
grammatical French of his guiltless days.
"He lived in the Rue du Temple, where he passed as François Germain. He
left there; now I do not know where he is."
"Good; your life shall be spared. But I will paralyse the strength you
have criminally abused. Doctor David, do as I have told you."
The Schoolmaster was seized by two servants and carried into another
room. A few minutes later he was brought back.
"You are free," said Rudolph. "Go and repent. Here are five thousand
francs. You are harmless."
The two men loosened the cords which bound him, then took a bandage from
his eyes. He sprang up in rage and terror; then falling back, cried in
agony and fury, "I am blind!"
_III_
Rudolph was the reigning Duke of the German State of Gerolstein. While
he was a boy a Scotch adventuress, Lady Sarah MacGregor, and her
brother, Sir Thomas Seyton, had appeared in the little German court and
begun an intrigue that resulted in a secret marriage between Sarah and
Rudolph. The old duke, then alive, on hearing of this annulled the
marriage. To his son he gave a letter from Sarah to her brother,
betraying her cold-blooded ambitions. The young prince's love had
frozen. Sarah gave birth to a child in England, whither she had fled. To
all Rudolph's appeals for this child she gave no answer. She had turned
it over to Jacques Ferrand, a notary in Paris. Six years later he
reported the child's death, and both parents believed their unhappy
daughter to be dead, though she was, in fact, the unfortunate
Fleur-de-Marie.
It was Sarah who now, having learned of Rudolph's presence in Paris, had
hurried hither to seek an interview with him, hoping to effect a
reconciliation, now that the old Grand Duke was dead and Rudolph
sovereign Prince of Gerolstein. Rudolph was known for his fondness for
strange adventures, and Lady Sarah had hoped to catch him during one of
his visits to the lower quarters of the city, seeking any aid, however
low.
Rudolph, grateful to the Slasher for saving his life, presented him with
an estate in Algiers; and the following day he set out for Algeria.
Rudolph was determined to find the son of Mrs. George, the unfortunate
wife of the Schoolmaster. He had saved her from starvation and he meant
to satisfy the great longing that still possessed her, but for some
while he had no real success.
Meanwhile, unknown to Rudolph, a misfortune had come to Fleur-de-Marie.
While on a visit to a neighbouring farm one evening she was suddenly
seized by Screech-Owl and the blind Schoolmaster and carried off to
Paris. They forced an oath of secrecy from her and liberated her near a
police station. Screech-Owl then informed the police that a vagrant had
passed down the street, and Fleur-de-Marie was arrested and sent to St
Lazare. A forged note was sent to Mrs. George, appearing to be signed by
Rudolph. Fleur-de-Marie's abduction had been caused by Sarah, who,
believing Rudolph too much interested in her, decided to rid herself of
a possible rival. Screech-Owl was her tool.
Rudolph learned of Germain's address through a second-hand dealer who
had bought his furniture. He was employed as cashier in the office of a
notary, Jacques Ferrand. Rudolph had heard evil reports of this man,
though he was highly respected and known as a pious man. When Rudolph
finally attempted to communicate with Germain he learned that the young
man had been accused of theft from notary Ferrand and imprisoned.
Screech-Owl conceived of a scheme to blackmail the notary Ferrand. His
housekeeper, ten years before, had turned over to her a child which she
was to care for in consideration of one thousand francs. She obtained an
interview with Ferrand, but he denied all knowledge of the child.
Ferrand was, in fact, thoroughly frightened. He learned that
Fleur-de-Marie was in St. Lazare, and determined to paralyse
Screech-Owl's threats by removing Fleur-de-Marie.
On an island in the Seine lived a criminal family, the Martials, who
throve by thieving and murder. With Nicholas Martial, Ferrand arranged
that Marie was to be conducted across the river and upset. His
housekeeper met the girl at the prison door after the notary had
procured her release and, pretending she had come from Mrs. George,
brought her down to the river.
Once on the shore, the old woman signalled, and two boats came from the
island. Fleur-de-Marie felt an instinctive uneasiness on beholding the
foul face of Nicholas Martial. But she seated herself in the boat with
the old woman, and they shot out into the stream.
Half an hour later two gentlemen strolling along the opposite river-bank
saw the body of a young girl floating by and rescued it. One was a
doctor. Discovering signs of life, he set to work and presently a faint
glow of vitality revived. Then she was carried to his home.
That same night Screech-Owl appeared at the home of Countess Sarah,
keeping an appointment. Lady Sarah took the creature into her private
room and locked the door, leaving open only the passage from the garden
whence they had entered.
"Listen," said the Countess, "I want you to find me a girl of about
seventeen, one who has lost her parents very early, of agreeable face,
and a sweet temper."
Screech-Owl showed her astonishment.
"My little lady, have you forgotten La Goualeuse?"
"I have nothing to do with her," said Lady Sarah impatiently.
"But listen a moment. Take La Goualeuse; she was only six years old when
Jacques Ferrand gave her to me, with a thousand francs, to get rid of
her."
"Jacques Ferrand!" cried Sarah, "the notary?"
"Yes, what of it?"
"Ten years ago? Fair? With blue eyes?
"Yes."
"Ah, Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" cried Sarah, falling on her knees. Suddenly
she rose. Hastily opening a secretary, she took from it an ebony casket,
which she opened. She took from it diamond necklaces and bracelets,
throwing them on the table in her hurry to reach the bottom.
"Is this she?" she cried, producing a small miniature.
"Yes."
Sarah took out paper and pen and began writing.
"Come," she said, "as you dictate, so I write. A written declaration--"
She did not finish. Screech-Owl brought down her arm and her dagger
entered Sarah's back between the shoulder-blades. She threw out her
hands and fell forward on the table.
Hastily gathering the jewels, the murderess slipped through the door
into the garden and escaped into the dark streets.
That night the police made one of the most notable hauls of the year;
they captured a group of notorious criminals in the act of murdering a
diamond-agent in a low-class resort on the banks of the Seine, among
them all the Martial family. In the cellar they found the blind
Schoolmaster chained to a pillar. He had been confined there by his
former comrades, who feared that in his helpless state he might fall
under the care of honest people and reveal to them the habits of his
associates. He was mad; in his arms he gripped, almost crushed, the dead
and mangled body of Screech-Owl, who, seeking to escape down the cellar,
had stumbled within the captive's reach.
_IV_
For some days Jacques Ferrand's clerks noticed in the notary a curious
change. He denied admission to his clients, though they knew his
interests suffered heavily thereby. His face thinned, his temples
hollowed, his complexion became ghastly yellow. In constant company with
him was a red-bearded man, known as Brodamonte.
Then came the announcement that Germain had been freed from prison, the
charges against him being dropped. Also that Monsieur Ferrand gave a
million francs to found a workingmen's bank where the poor could borrow
without paying interest. Germain was to be cashier.
Ferrand's sufferings were intense. Brodamonte, discovered in a criminal
act by Rudolph, was now his slave, and acted as his agent. Both were
watched by a well-concealed circle of spies. Brodamonte forced Ferrand's
system of restitution, under Rudolph's directions, who had succeeded in
obtaining from the notary by a trick papers which proved his crimes and
guilt. This was his punishment. A miser, he must give; and, always a
pious fraud, he was now compelled to place all his money in trust with
the good, simple old abbé he had long deceived.
By chance Rudolph now learned of the absence of the girl and the
deception that had caused Madame George to make no inquiries. He
suspected truly that La Goualeuse's abduction had been instigated by
Sarah.
Suddenly an idea burst upon him. Looking over the papers taken from
Ferrand, he saw that the notary had reason to fear the existence of a
certain child he had turned over to Screech-Owl ten years previously.
These suspicions changed to conviction when e learned that on the day of
Marie's release a woman had been drowned in the Seine. So great was his
rage that he now determined to revenge himself doubly on the criminal
notary.
The Countess Sarah was recovering slowly. Rudolph, believing her to be
dying, consented to visit her. He found her dressed and decked in her
jewels, but pale and weak.
"Rudolph, I am dying," she said; "I have something of great importance
to tell you." Her agitation was intense.
"Our child is not dead!" burst from her suddenly.
"Our child!"
"I tell you, she lives!"
"Enough, madame, you cannot deceive me. I know your schemes."
"But listen, I have proof!" she cried eagerly. "I have told you the
truth. You remember I had left the child with my notary to superintend
her education. He was false to me. She had not died, but was disposed of
to a woman known as the Screech-Owl, and----"
"No! No! I do not believe you--I do not wish to believe you!"
"See," she continued, "here is her portrait."
He seized the miniature. Yes, in the child's face were recognizable the
blue eyes, the oval face, the fair hair, so familiar to him in
Fleur-de-Marie.
"God!" he cried, "you wretched woman! La Goualeuse our daughter! Found,
only to lose her again. Dead!"
"No, she lives, Rudolph. Pity! I die!"
"Your child is dead, murdered. May the knowledge curse your last
moments!" And he rushed from the house, leaving Sarah in a fainting
condition.
Meanwhile, the Marquise d'Harville, a friend of Rudolph's, learned by
chance of the presence of La Goualeuse in the house of the doctor who
had rescued her from the Seine. Knowing Rudolph's keen interest in La
Goualeuse, Madame d'Harville determined to take her with her in her
carriage to convey the good news to Rudolph in person.
Some days later she appeared at Rudolph's magnificent apartments and
announced to him that Fleur-de-Marie was below in the carriage. Rudolph
rose, pale, supporting himself by the table. Madame d'Harville's
surprise restrained him.
"Ah, Clemence," he murmured, "you do not know what you have done for me.
Fleur-de-Marie is--my daughter!"
"Your daughter, your Highness?"
Then suddenly she understood. Fleur-de-Marie was brought up, and it
required Clemence to restrain Rudolph so that he broke the news gently.
Fleur-de-Marie was even then overcome, for she had loved Rudolph as she
would have loved her god.
Sarah died soon afterward. Rudolph asked Clemence d'Harville to become
mother to Marie, now the Princess Amelia, and they returned to Germany.
On setting out they passed in their carriage through a crowd attending
an execution. Several criminals in the crowd, recognising Rudolph,
attempted to attack him. Suddenly a man sprang forward in his defence,
but was stabbed by one of the crowd and fell dying. It was the Slasher.
"I could not go to Algiers," he murmured. "I wished to be near you,
Monsieur Rudolph."
A noble prince sought the hand of the Princess Amelia, but she, feeling
her past degradation, retired to a convent, where she died, beloved by
all, mourned deeply by Rudolph and Clemence.
Ferrand, the notary, died in convulsions, killing Brodamonte with a
poisoned dagger. Germain, restored to his mother, married happily, his
wife's dowry coming from the prince.
* * * * *