The spaniel Fidele became the cherished pet of the true count; Romain never could account how the letter of his sister, which he treasured carefully as the means of domineering over his nephew in case his attempt on the title of de Coucy should prove successful, had been taken from a casket in which he had placed it, as a most important possession; how it was transferred to the portfolio he could never conjecture. But the police received, in the course of their investigations, some statements from which they were led to believe that Romain was occasionally a somnambulist.
DUMAS.
Dumas, in the construction of the plots of some of his novels, seems to have availed himself of facts derived from the Police Memoirs, over which, however, he spreads a very ample drapery of fiction. In "The Three Musketeers" he ascribed to a Gascon gentleman, d'Artagnan, a clearness of perception, a promptitude of action, and a personal intrepidity which were really exhibited by one who was born much nearer to the Shannon than to the Garonne, and who was a confidential attendant in the household of the Duke of Buckingham, and is mentioned by Bois-Robert, one of Richelieu's spies, in the following terms:—
"I shall first state to his Eminence, that chance having enabled me again to meet an Irishman whom I had known in Paris, when he was pursuing his studies; I then rendered him some service, and he, from that moment, manifested to me the most ardent gratitude. On leaving Paris, he proceeded to England, where, very luckily, he became the valet-de-chambre of his grace the Duke of Buckingham. Although the emoluments of that situation must be considerable, Patrick O'Reilly (which is the name of this Irishman) is always without a halfpenny. In this respect he imitates his noble master. I have received him kindly whenever he came to see me; and such is my zeal in the service of Monseigneur, that I have submitted to associate with this valet, hoping to obtain some useful information respecting his master. It was also for this purpose that I advanced him some money."
Dumas does not entirely ignore the name of Patrick O'Reilly, but he gives it to a jeweller, whom he mentions as the wealthiest and most skilful of all then following that trade in London. In his novel of the Count of Monte Cristo, he introduces the hero as the chief officer of a fine merchant ship. It would have been more true, though perhaps rather vulgar, to have presented to his readers, a shoemaker, of the description called chamber masters, whose name was François Picaud, and who, through motives of jealousy or envy, was represented to Savary, duc de Rovigo, as an agent or spy for the English and the royalists of La Vendee. He was imprisoned, his intended marriage having been prevented by his arrest, and continued incarcerated at Fenestrelle from 1807 to 1814. In the prison he was appropriated as a personal attendant to a Milanese ecclesiastic, of high rank, who died in January, 1814, having confided to Picaud full information as to his immense property, and the places where the documents necessary to it were to be found. He also gave him a brief testamentary grant of all he possessed or was entitled to. There was a very great value accruing to the legatee in diamonds and hidden coin, but that treasure was in the vicinity of Milan, and the statements respecting the Chateau d'If, and the island of Monte Cristo, were complete fictions.
As to the last novel to which I have adverted, I am tempted into finding very great fault with one of its incidents, which appears most unnatural, and therefore most improbable. I refer to the scene between the ruined merchant and his son, in which a father acknowledges his intention to commit suicide, and ultimately persuades his son to acquiesce in such a crime; nay, even to use to his parent, with the pistols lying before him prepared for the catastrophe, the expression, "Die in peace, my father, I will live." This is, I repeat, unnatural and improbable. The English are said to be a suicidal people, amongst whom a November day produces throat-cutting, pistoling, and poisoning; but in England was there ever an instance of suicide being the subject of consultation between parent and child? Oh! never; nor do we believe that such could appear to our continental neighbours more consistent with the state and feelings of society amongst them than it is amongst ourselves.
A THREATENED SUICIDE.
I may mention, in reference to suicidal attempts, that I witnessed what I at first considered a dreadful attempt on the part of a Frenchman to terminate his existence before some hundreds of spectators, and in the immediate presence of a handsome young woman whose frigid indifference to his ardent passion for her he loudly declared had rendered his life insupportable. It was during my visit to Paris in 1853, and occurred on a Sunday, in the grounds adjoining the palace of St. Cloud, where there were numerous tables occupied fully by parties enjoying the viands and wine, beer, or coffee, procured from two restaurants, which were also well supplied with the choicest confections. The demented lover, who was very well-looking, and seemed to be about five and twenty years of age, declared, unless Mademoiselle would agree to marry him in the ensuing week, he was determined to die there, and shed his blood at her feet. She appeared worse than indifferent to his entreaties and to the fatal intentions which he expressed, for she laughed most heartlessly at his expressions of hopeless despair. Leaving the table, he threw an overcoat across his arm, and hurried to one of the restaurants, from which he very quickly returned, and made a final demand that Mademoiselle should decide his fate. She continued inexorable, and I felt great surprise that none of those who heard him interfered either by expostulation or actual restraint. With frantic gesticulations he drew a pocket-pistol from under the folds of his overcoat, and thrust it into his mouth. It produced, however, no explosion. The pistol gave way between his closing teeth, and the barrel was soon lodged in his stomach. The apparently deadly weapon was made of chocolate, of which the obdurate damsel, still laughing, insisted on getting a portion.