A RECENT morning paper contained the following item in its column of “Crimes and Casualties”:—
“La Littérature qui Tue.
“Enamoured of art and persuaded that he would quickly win a name in Paris, Louis M——, a young man of twenty-five, left some six months ago the little provincial city where he was born.
“Like Balzac’s hero, Lucien de Rubempré, who entered the Latin Quarter with two hundred and forty francs in money and the manuscripts of L’Archer de Charles IX. and Les Marguerites, this young provincial arrived in Paris with a light purse and the bulky manuscript of a drama in five acts, which he expected to get performed immediately. Unfortunately, the purse was quickly emptied, and the drama was refused by all the theatre managers.
“As his father was not rich, Louis M—— was unwilling to appeal to him, and suffered without complaining.
“One day, however, he confessed his desperate situation to Mme. C——, a friend of his family, who inhabits a comfortable apartment, rue ——. Mme. C—— promised to see what she could do for him. In the midst of a conversation with her yesterday he drew a revolver from his pocket, and before she could catch his arm fired a bullet into his heart.
“Death was instantaneous.”
Emile Goudeau, in his Dix Ans de Bohème, tells of the picturesque suicide of a young Latin Quarter poet of his acquaintance:—
“D——, arrayed in a new suit and with his hands full of bouquets, went up to the cashier’s desk and graciously adorned the counter and corsage of the cashier. Then, turning to a medical student, he said to him nonchalantly, ‘My dear fellow, I have made a bet that the little point of the heart is here between these two ribs’; and he designated a spot on his vest. ‘Not at all,’ corrected the other, ‘it is lower down. There!’ ‘I have lost then,’ D—— replied.
“He called a cab, and ordered the cocher to drive him to the Arc de Triomphe.