Old Bestseller: The Perfume of the Lady in
Black, by Gaston Leroux
A review by Rich Horton
Back to the original focus of this blog
with a true Old Bestseller, though this book’s best sales might have been in
France. Gaston Leroux (1868-1927) was a native of Paris who inherited a lot of
money and earned a law degree. But by about 1890 he was broke and working in
journalism. He became an international correspondent for Le Matin, most significantly covering the 1905 Russian Revolution
(one that didn’t stick). He began publishing fiction as early as 1887, and his
first novel appeared in 1904 (La Double Vie de
Théophraste Longuet, known as The
Double Life in English). He quit journalism in 1907, more or less
simultaneously with his first major novelistic success, The Mystery of the
Yellow Room. That was the first of ultimately seven novels about a young
journalist who acts as a detective, Joseph Rouletabille. He is of course best
known for his 1910 novel Le Fantôme de l’Opéra (The Phantom of the
Opera), which has been made into numerous films and one very famous
musical.
The Mystery of the Yellow Room was a locked-room
story, and is still regarded as one of the best locked room mysteries of all
time. The book at hand, La Parfum de la Dame en Noir (The Perfume of
the Lady in Black), from 1909, is a direct sequel to The Mystery of the
Yellow Room, and it is also a locked-room mystery. Of necessity, the
following will involve spoilers for the first book.
The
novel is narrated by M. Sainclair, an older friend of Joseph Rouletabille, who
seems fairly openly a Watson figure. We begin in a shabby church in Paris, as
Mlle. Mathilde Stangerson marries M. Robert Darzac. We gather that Mlle.
Stangerson and M. Darzac were involved in the events of the previous book.
Mathilde’s father, Professor Stangerson, had been accused of a murder,
investigated by a detective, Frederic Larsan, with the assistance of Joseph
Rouletabille. At the end, Rouletabille proved that the actual killer was in
fact Larsan, a master of disguise who was also known as Ballmyer and as Jean
Roussel, under which name he had married Mlle. Stangerson in America. She had a
child with him, who died young, but had become estranged, and fell in love with
M. Darzac. After Larsan is convicted of murder, he escapes, and flees to
America, but falls overboard and drowns on the way there, freeing his ex-wife
to marry M. Darzac.
The
book is interrupted for some extended exposition about the childhood of Joseph
Rouletabille, where we learn that he was actually the supposedly dead son of
Frederic Larsan and Mathilde, who ended up at a strict boarding school, before
he was expelled on a false charge of theft. Living on his own, he managed
eventually to work his way into journalism.
The
scene thus set, the newly married couple head off on their honeymoon to the
South of France. But on the way, Mme. Darzac is shocked to see Larsan.
Sainclair and Rouletabille follow them to their destination, a curious
castle/island just on the Italian side of the Riviera, owned by Mr. Arthur
Rance, an American, and his wife Edith. Mr. Rance, it seems, was once
desperately in love with Mlle. Stangerson, and Edith is terribly jealous of
her. Their party consists, then, of the Rances, the Darzacs, Sainclair,
Rouletabille, Edith’s uncle, Old Bob, an anthropologist who believes he has
discovered the oldest human skull of all time, and occasionally a neighbor,
Prince Galitch, a Russian who is a rival
of Old Bob, and who also seems inappropriately close to Mme. Edith.
Other players are several servants, and, all fear, the mysterious specter of
the apparently not really dead M. Larsan – whose continued survival would
invalidate the marriage of the Darzacs.
All
this takes a long, and frankly tedious, time to set up. Then the action
commences, with strange behavior by Old Bob, flirtation and jealousy from
Edith, and eventually a shooting, and the apparent disposal of the victim in a
potato sack. But is he really dead? And, despite all Rouletabille’s efforts to
make the castle impregnable, has Larsan found a way in? And how did the “extra
body” somehow make his way into the Darzac chambers? And who was actually shot?
And who is responsible for the death of one of the servants?
The
whole thing is kind of convoluted and, as I suggested, often tedious. The
characters never really come to life – it’s hard to much like any of them.
(Part of this, to be sure, is because each character – even the narrator,
Sainclair -- has to be presented as plausibly Larsan in disguise.) Leroux
painstakingly describes, with diagrams!, the layout of the castle and of some
key interiors. Things eventually come to a head, leading to a traditional
wrapping up, with the detective gathering everyone in a room and explaining who
is guilty – and with the bad guy, as is traditional, removing him- or herself from an inconvenient potential trial by some precipitate
actions …
The
mystery, I suppose, is nicely enough solved, if it does depend rather too much
on Larsan’s incredible ability to disguise himself. But beyond that, the novel
just doesn’t work – it’s too long, too boring, with an uninteresting set of
characters. Some of this, I suppose, might possibly be laid at the door of the
translator. My edition, I should add, is a 1909 edition, probably a first
American, from Brentano’s (I assume possibly related to the bookseller). There
are numerous illustrations (including the diagrams). The illustrator and
translator are both uncredited. (I note that the science fiction writer Brian
Stableford, who had translated an immense amount of French popular fiction from
the 19th and early 20th Century, has translated at least one
of the Rouletabille books.)
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