Mysteries of Paris

Joseph Marie Sue, known as Eugene 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 Debats.”  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, or 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.”