Lola Montez Part 5

XI

DUJARIER

As an _artiste_, Lola was naturally anxious to conciliate the Press, which had not spoken too kindly of her first performance on the Paris stage.

Gautier's unflattering notice had appeared in one of the most influential newspapers--_La Presse_. This journal was under the direction of the famous De Girardin, the Harmsworth of his generation. Till 1st July 1836 the lowest annual subscription to any newspaper in Paris was eighty francs; on that day De Girardin issued the first number of _La Presse_ at a subscription of forty francs a year. This startling reduction in the price of news excited, of course, no little animosity, but its successful results were immediately manifest. The daring journalist's next innovation was the creation of the _feuilleton_. The new paper prospered exceedingly, though it represented the views of the editor rather than those of any large section of the public. In 1840 De Girardin acquired a half of the property, the other being held by Monsieur Dujarier, who a.s.sumed the functions of literary editor.

In 1845 Dujarier was a young man of twenty-nine, a writer of no mean ability, and a smart journalist. He was well known to all the Olympians of the Boulevard, and entered with zest into the gay life of Paris. Lola became acquainted with him soon after her arrival in the capital, probably in an effort to win the paper over to her side. He spent, she tells us, almost every hour he could spare from his editorial duties with her, and in his society she rapidly ripened in a knowledge of politics. But before her political education had proceeded far, the woman's beauty and the man's wit had produced the effect that might have been looked for. "They read no more that day"--Lola and Dujarier loved each other.

"This," continues our heroine, "was in autumn [the autumn of '44], and the following spring the marriage was to take place." I fancy the word "marriage" is introduced here out of respect for the susceptibilities of the American public. The Old Guard of the Boulevard, in Louis Philippe's golden reign, _se fianca mais ne se maria pas_. Besides, Lola was still legally the wife of that remote and forgotten officer, Captain James. "It was arranged that Alexandre Dumas and the celebrated poet, Mery, should accompany them on their marriage tour through Spain." Dumas, Mery, and Lola, to say nothing of Dujarier, travelling together through Andalusia--here would have been a gallant company indeed, with which one would have gladly made a voyage even to Tartarus and back! The narrative, too, of the journey would have permanently enriched literature. But the scheme has gone, these sixty years, to the cloudy nether-world of glorious dreams unrealized.

The success of De Girardin's newspaper had intensely embittered his compet.i.tors, who made it the object of venomous attack. The founder dipped his pen in gall and acid, and his sword in the blood of his enemies. He fought four duels, and having killed Armand Carrel, sheathed his rapier.

But he did not lay aside his pen, which was even more dreaded. Dujarier proved an apt pupil, and by his command of irony and sarcasm at last attracted to himself as much hatred and jealousy as his senior. The special rival of his paper was the _Globe_, edited by Monsieur Granier de Ca.s.sagnac, a journalist of the type we now denominate yellow. He had at one time been on the staff of _La Presse_, to which he remained financially indebted. Dujarier came across the debit notes signed by him, and obtained a judgment against him. The exasperation of the _Globe_ knew no bounds. The editor may be conceived addressing to his satellites the reproaches used by Henry II.: "Of those that eat my bread, is there none that will rid me of this pestilent journalist?" The appeal was responded to by his wife's brother, Monsieur Jean Baptiste Rosemond de Beauvallon, a Creole from Guadeloupe, then in his twenty-fifth year. He was dramatic critic to the _Globe_, and in this capacity his acquaintance was sought by Lola. Dujarier naturally objected to this, and his interference was not forgiven by his journalist rival. The two men seemed doomed to cross each other's path. There was a certain Madame Albert, with whom Dujarier had been on terms of intimacy for some years. In December 1844 he ceased to visit her, probably for no other reason than that he had transferred his affections to Lola. As it happened, however, De Beauvallon made the lady's acquaintance at this moment, and she spitefully suggested that Dujarier had discontinued relations with her in order not to meet him. The Creole's score against the literary editor of _La Presse_ was now a high one, and he embraced his brother-in-law's quarrel with enthusiasm.

XII

THE SUPPER AT THE FReRES PROVENcAUX

At the beginning of March (1845), Lola, despite her failure at the Opera, obtained an engagement at the Porte-St.-Martin Theatre for the musical comedy _La b.i.+.c.he au Bois_. While she was rehearsing, she and her lover received an invitation to supper at the Freres Provencaux, a fas.h.i.+onable restaurant in the Palais Royal. The party was to be composed of some of the liveliest men and women in Paris, and none of those invited were over thirty-five years of age. Lola was keen to accept, but Dujarier would not hear of her being seen in such a company. In spite of her protests he decided, however, to go himself. It was the evening of 11th March.

He found himself the only guest, for all the others paid their shares in the cost of the entertainment. The nominal hostess was Mademoiselle Lievenne: "a splendid person, with abundant black hair, black eyes like a Moorish woman or Arlesienne, dazzling skin, and opulent figure." There were also at the table Mademoiselle Atila Beauchene, Mademoiselle Alice Ozy, Mademoiselle Virginie Capon, and other charming ladies, all styling themselves actresses, and spending a thousand francs a week out of a salary of twenty-five. In attendance on this bevy of beauty were some of the jolliest fellows in Paris. The oldest and most distinguished was Roger de Beauvoir, whose curly black hair, wonderful waistcoats, and pearl-grey pantaloons made him the delight of the fair s.e.x, and the envy of his fellow-boulevardiers. De Beauvallon was also present, but he and Dujarier were not openly on bad terms, and nothing seemed likely to cloud the general gaiety.

The fun waxed fast and furious. Champagne corks popped in all directions, toasts were drunk to everybody and everything. Dujarier proposed "Monsieur de Beauvoir's waistcoat," followed by "Monsieur de Beauvoir's raven locks." The jovial Roger responded with the toast "Friend Dujarier's bald head," and evoked roars of laughter by drinking to the Memoirs of Count Montholon, with which _La Presse_ had promised to entertain its readers for the last five years. Dujarier laughed as loudly as the others; the champagne had risen to his head. He began to fondle the girls, and became a little too bold even for their taste. "Anas," he murmured in an audible whisper to Mademoiselle Lievenne, "je coucherai avec toi en six mois." The next moment he realised he had gone too far. Recollecting himself, he apologised, was forgiven, and the incident seemed to be forgotten by all.

The remains of the supper were removed, curtains drawn back, and one side of the room left free for dancing, while a card-table occupied the other.

More people dropped in. De Beauvoir, finding the literary editor in such a good humour, thought the moment opportune to remind him of one of his romances which _La Presse_ had accepted but seemed in no hurry to publish.

To worry an editor about such a matter at such a moment is to court a rebuff. Dujarier replied sharply that Dumas's novel would be running for some time, adding that it was likely to prove more profitable to the paper than De Beauvoir's serial would be. Roger, the best-humoured of men, was nettled at this reply, and said so. "Good! do you seek an affair with me?"

retorted the editor. "No, I don't look for affairs, but I sometimes find them," answered the author.

It is clear that Dujarier, like his mistress, seldom had his temper under perfect control. He took a hand at _lansquenet_, and complained of the low limit imposed by the banker, Monsieur de St. Aignan. He and De Beauvallon offered to share the bank's risks and winnings. This being agreed to, Dujarier threw down twenty-five louis, De Beauvallon five and a half. The bank won twice, and Dujarier was ent.i.tled to a hundred louis. But St.

Aignan had made the mistake of understating the amount in the bank before the cards were dealt, and now, therefore, found that the winnings were not sufficient to satisfy him and his partners. He was about to make good the deficit at his own expense, when De Beauvallon generously suggested to Dujarier that they should share the loss in proportion to their stakes.

The literary editor preferred to stand upon his rights, and seems to have been backed up by the bystanders. De Beauvallon said nothing more at the time, but as the candles were flickering low and the party was preparing to break up, he reminded his rival that he owed him (on some other score) eighty-four louis. Dujarier replied tartly, but handed him the seventy-five louis he had won, borrowed the odd nine louis from Collot, the restaurant-keeper, and thus discharged the debt. He had lost on the whole evening two thousand five hundred francs. In the grey March dawn his head became clearer. He vaguely realised he had given deep offence to two, at least, of his fellow revellers. He returned, anxious and haggard to his lodgings in the Rue Laffitte, where Lola was eagerly awaiting him.

She guessed at once that something was amiss, and endeavoured in vain to extract from him the cause of his evident agitation. Returning evasive answers, the journalist hurried off to the office of _La Presse_.

XIII

THE CHALLENGE

Whether or not Dujarier had used offensive expressions to De Beauvallon on this particular occasion, the opportunity for bringing to a head the long-standing feud between the two newspapers was too good to be missed.

That afternoon the literary editor was waited upon at his office by two gentlemen--the Vicomte d'Ecquevillez, a French officer in the Spanish service, and the Comte de Flers. They informed him that they came upon behalf of Monsieur de Beauvallon, who considered himself insulted by the tone of his remarks the previous evening, and required an apology or satisfaction. Dujarier affected contempt for his rival, making a point of misp.r.o.nouncing his name. He had no apology to offer, and referred his visitors to Monsieur Arthur Berrand, and Monsieur de Boigne. As the seconds withdrew D'Ecquevillez mentioned that Monsieur de Beauvoir also considered himself ent.i.tled to satisfaction.

The rest of that day Lola could not but remark the intense pre-occupation of her lover--that concentration of mind that all men experience at the near menace of death. On the battle-field it may last for a minute or an hour; in other circ.u.mstances it may last for days together. Dujarier felt himself already a dead man. He had hardly handled a pistol in his life. He envied his mistress, who had often given him an exhibition of her powers as a shot. De Beauvallon, on the other hand, was known to be skilled in all the arts of attack and defence. Nor could Dujarier doubt that he wished to see him dead. In the evening Bertrand and De Boigne arrived.

Lola was with difficulty persuaded to leave them to attend her rehearsal.

Dujarier, pale and nervous, discussed the matter with his friends. "C'est une querelle de boutique!" he exclaimed bitterly, but expressed his determination to proceed with the affair if it cost him his life.

Bertrand, fully alive to the gravity of the situation, sought De Beauvallon's seconds, and argued that nothing said by his princ.i.p.al could be considered ground for an encounter. His efforts at a reconciliation were useless. De Boigne tried to give precedence to De Beauvoir, who was accounted an indifferent shot; but that easily placable author had just lost his mother, and displayed no anxiety to defraud De Beauvallon of his vengeance. Seeing the encounter was inevitable, Bertrand and De Boigne exacted from the other side this written statement:--

"We, the undersigned, declare that in consequence of a disagreement, Monsieur Dujarier has been challenged by Monsieur de Beauvallon in terms which render it impossible for him to decline the encounter. We have done everything possible to conciliate these gentlemen, and it is only upon Monsieur de Beauvallon insisting that we have consented to a.s.sist them."

This statement was signed by all four seconds. It left Dujarier, as the injured party, the choice of arms. He chose the pistol, thinking, it is to be presumed, that as his adversary was equally experienced in the use of the rapier and firearms, chance might possibly favour him with the latter.

Lola, while these negotiations were proceeding, was a prey to the most painful apprehensions. Pressed by her, Dujarier admitted that he was about to engage in an affair of honour, but gave her to understand that his opponent would be Roger de Beauvoir. Her alarm at once subsided. No one feared Roger. "You know I am a woman of courage," she said; "if the duel is just, I will not prevent it."

"Oh, what after all is a duel!" said her lover lightly, but she noticed that his smile was forced.

She drove to the Porte-St.-Martin; Dujarier, at three in the afternoon, paid a visit to Alexandre Dumas. He picked up a sword that stood in a corner of the room, and made a few pa.s.ses. "You don't know how to wield the sword, I can see," observed the novelist. "Can you use any other weapon?"

"Well, I _must_ use the pistol," replied the journalist significantly.

"You mean you are going to fight?"

"Yes, to-morrow, with De Beauvallon."

Dumas looked grave. "Your adversary is a very good swordsman," he said.

"You had better choose swords. When De Beauvallon sees how you handle the weapon, the duel will be at an end."

He told Dujarier that Alexandre, junior, practised at the same fencing-cla.s.s as De Beauvallon, and he strongly urged him to reconsider the choice of weapons. But the journalist was obstinate. He had no confidence in his opponent's clemency, and he feared his skill with the rapier. With the pistol there was always a chance; with cold steel he was bound to be killed. In vain Dumas argued that the sword could spare, while the pistol could slay, even if the trigger were pulled by the least experienced hand. Dujarier dined with father and son. The friends parted at nine in the evening. The journalist, in company with Bertrand, went to a shooting gallery, where he tried his hand at the pistol. He hit a figure as large as a man only twice in twenty shots! Dumas strolled into the Varietes. He was ill at ease. Finally he took a cab and drove to the Rue Laffitte. He found Dujarier seated at his bureau, writing his will, as it afterwards proved.

Dumas returned to the question of weapons. Dujarier showed a disposition to avoid the whole subject. "You are only losing your time," he said, "and that is valuable. I don't want you to arrange this affair, mind. It is my first duel. It is astonis.h.i.+ng that I have not had one before. It's a sort of baptism that I must undergo."

His friend questioned him as to the cause of the proposed encounter. "Lord knows!" was the reply, "I can recollect no particular reason. I don't know what I am fighting about. It's a duel between the _Globe_ and _La Presse_," he added, "not between Monsieur Dujarier and Monsieur de Beauvallon."

Seeing him determined both to fight and to choose fire-arms, Dumas recommended him at least not to use the hair-trigger pistol. To the novelist's astonishment, Dujarier admitted he did not know the difference between one kind of pistol and another. Alexandre said he would show him, and drove off to his house for the purpose. As he descended the stairs, he pa.s.sed Lola, who noticed his agitation. Dujarier was again writing when she entered his room. He was very pale. Dissimulating his preoccupation, he invited his mistress to read a flattering notice on her performance from the pen of Monsieur de Boigne. But Lola was not to be thus diverted from her purpose. She implored her lover to tell her more about the proposed encounter, to reveal the cause of his evident anxiety. He merely replied that he was extremely busy, that there was nothing to worry about.

He insisted on her returning to her own apartments. "I'll come and see you to-morrow," he promised, "and, Lola!--if--if I should leave Paris for any reason, I don't want you to lose sight of my friends. Promise that. They are good sorts."

He almost forced Lola out of the house, only to admit Dumas a few minutes later. The novelist had brought a brand-new pair of pistols. "Use these,"

he said; "I'll give you a written statement that they have not been used before. That ought to satisfy the seconds." Dujarier shook his head. "Look here," said Dumas solemnly, "your luck has endured a long time. Take care that it does not fail you now."

His friend's well-meant pertinacity irritated the journalist. He replied brusquely: "What would you? Do you want me to pa.s.s for a coward? If I don't accept this challenge, I shall have others. De Beauvallon is determined to fasten a quarrel on me. One of his seconds told me so. He said my face displeased him. However, this affair over, I shall be left in peace."

It was one o'clock in the morning. Dumas, having exhausted all the resources of argument and persuasion, rose to depart. "At least," he counselled his friend, "don't fight till two in the afternoon. It is no use getting up early for so unpleasant an affair. Besides, I know you.

You are always at your worst--nervous and fidgety--between ten and eleven."

"You know that," said Dujarier eagerly, "you won't think it fear? And, Dumas," ... he went to his desk, and wrote a cheque on Laffitte's for a thousand crowns. "I owe you this. Now this is drawn on my private account, and as the duel takes place at eleven, go there before eleven, for you don't know what may happen. Go there _before eleven_, for after that my credit may be dead. I beg of you, go before eleven."

The two friends wrung each other's hand, and Dumas, heavy at heart, went downstairs. Dujarier was left to his thoughts. The reflections of a man who is practically sure that he will be dead next day are quite peculiar.

The sensation is not fear in the ordinary acceptation of the term. It is an effort to realise what no man ever can properly realise--that the world around you, which in one (and a very true) sense has no existence except as it is perceived by you, will, notwithstanding, be existing to-morrow evening, while you will not exist. Intellectually you know this, but you cannot realise it.

At such moments men turn with relief to the pen. With ink and paper you can project yourself beyond your own grave. Dujarier signed his will, which began with these words:--