CASE OF THE DUKE DE PRASLIN.

Auckland Star, Volume LVIII, Issue 154, 2 July 1927, Page 23

CASE OF THE DUKE DE PRASLIN.

n, HORACE WYNDHAM, author of "The Mayfair Calendar," etc.)

There are crimes, that, for stark, staring stand out with special prominence Ke'annak of human turpitude. It was ? „?,* a one as this that, on an August b} 'w in the year 1847, the Duchess de & was'barbarously done to death |nd her husband covered himself with ""SShSTfek. was only w*en when he married lanny, daughter TaSnKuisbed veteran, Marshal Horace US The bride brought the. brideSroom a substantial dowry, and, in due Srorse, she also brought him ten children. Tor eighteen years the couple lived on Apparently the best of terms. But unfaown to their relatives and friends, a rift had begun to manifest itself early between the pair. As time passed it .Became more and more pronounced, possibly, and in the first instance, it was the f» ult °* tne I* loll6Bß ' for ner disposition was undoubtedly a jealous one. She ■res devoted to her husband, but the fact |hat she was a couple of years his elder was perhaps, not unconnected with their Incompatibility of temperament. The main cause, however, of the tragb happenings that were to follow was the introdnction into the de Praslin family of a certain: Mile. Henriette Deluzy, a young woman of twenty-three, as governess for the children. In addition to her various accomplishments, she appears to have been .endowed with personal attractions above <■ the averageFor a rather faded and admittedly jealous woman of forty to bring the possessor of these attributes into contact with her husband—especially since he was credited with a somewhat amorous disposition—was a dangerous experiment. She was given frkndly warnings, but she ignored them. Hhe inevitable results followed. The Duke openly cultivated the society of the :governesß—spending more of his time in the schoolroom than in the salon—and the fvernsss responded to his advances. The lchess de Praslin was a proud woman, '; |rat there were limits to what she was •prepared to endure. They were reached when the Duke deliberately set himself -fto alienate her daughters from her. As. JSHe. Deluzy appeared to be furthering his •efforts in this direction, she demanded her •dismissal. The Duke, however, peremptorily, vetoed any such proposal. ""If Henriette leaves, I leave as well," . .|e declared. Just how far Henriette Deluzy responded i <o the ducal advances is not very clear. ; llhe statement of an imaginative journalist that she eloped with him to Corsica is, kowever, unfounded. Still, her employer was obviously infatuated, for his next step was to give her entire charge of the children.. Thereupon his unhappy wife, wounded to the quick, wrote him a series •of piteous letters. They were letters that nave moved a heart of stone. Yet they did not move that of their recipient. At last things reached such a nitch that, proud woman though she was, the Duchess actually, contemplated proceedings for divorce.. Such a step in the de Praslin household would have been a public scandal. Yet; living unloved and slighted was a stiO worse one. As a preliminary, • family council" was held, at which the position was discussed by representatives of either party. Marshal Sebastiani, swallowing the insult to which his son-in-law had subjected him, made a fresh effort to smooth over the situation. This time he ::";' was apparently successful, for his daughter 0 and her husband adjusted their differences. As Mile. Deluzy, the cause of all the domestic upheaval, had to be got rid of, the marshal undertook to allow her an annuity of 1500 francs. Thereupon the thus, compensated- for. tin* '■Wmyemployment, packed her boxes &jL*g£M& i *** fresh work elsewhere. oThyßneness had got her way,'but the .*Kto>Mjsa' ah empty-One, for the depar-1 tare of Henriette Deluzy did not mend s>ttew .Jit anything, it had the opposite ■■■ : ' : her dismissal as. a grievance, rand was furious with •■• **£nfe'"-'": "He tsays he will never forgive ff*£-*2OW the poor Woman. '1 tremble to thmk of /what may happen to me.'-" It something.very terrible. Fori Wf«W* however,,the future was hidden* V togetherwith her husband and chilin July,: 1847, she left for the country. . the middle' of August, the ;V'S?^W"- , ™»"he* children returned with H '-nMinißion in the rue «nbourg-Baint-Honore.' Directly they •^ : 'lS2?'- , s^ l *' :ttt *'i Do ke-- visited Mile. J £^ ;^Q a *hia occasion she told him that nhe-conld not get employment without a character" from the Duches3. Pro;nusing. that she should have one, he :$P*» for: it ,the next afterreturned horns' the retired for the night. Her which was on the ground no^Was' separated from that of her jSfSJ » Passage, with a bathroom rTheudoorof this latter «" Jock,,but as the hinges were damaged :fSl?»j Protection.. Still this fact .■' : -' : '"Sp?s^r , tf? , ?-' t)lM: - ,1,8 * i,, « woman. She side; the house was full "v 2?!? -; a ? d the Duke was within call. t it was by this unguarded door that - fflM22&f** *° h «r before another ■par should have passed.

"«.' Most Foul." £«■» .broke,and the big barrack-like wrapped in stillness. Not a anywhere.. Suddenly, "''3&<h£n. — Tr four ', a P ierc ">B scream, and another, followed by the ■■■- of a bell in the bedroom Ejtne jtochess, and a strangled cry for and still louder scream. ' SVif ? udderin « «Uence. ■ftSRiT d * J A ?P te Charpentier, '23*iwb flprang from their beda in ■SELL i^F on *° me clothes, they fS&&* he haU - Obviously, burglaS WdSsS t? CTept along the Passage, Str2?T f SL a momea , t m hont 0{ the* •-^•'tgS?^fc om --■■■*»»*. Something K-TW hap ?f^ ng on the other side ■totett^fc 011 ? bear faint moans, the S^arKcl^ 4 " 6 ' and the cra< * of ttttcles-bemg upset. >Waa m a«S ,gh *»**»»" that the lock me d f^ Bcfe the ■'SB-JSPWP A PParen%, a wedge P / , L under the sill. ' 6 JS*"- " tairCaßC " & there!" va iet. The assassins may 31^* 0 £etch the °* the ? men servants rushed There they were had been" the - doOT v^Mer^was^,* 8 !' c ]? Bed a few minutes *6 the Vuchess' bedroom. Sein* ted hfe^ 0 they pußhed it ope g **«»iffiw 1 e * B , ufc the y had °ot for a le K, met i hem ' 'The room ■'-£38«&£W*"- , Blood everywhere. <"****; splashes; i ot A ers on the wainscot-! % S?™. nd t abl «* overturned; pic- : SeSeoS '■■'&&*■' a * d the bel > :-lhsdia-lS!i • great « at &"*• « omiuously stfll. , 1« u our P°°r mißtress!" : concierge, starting back in fPPaWnrsWsf ,; S 6 i offered an |»ood. «Sd£h in a wdt «- of btttcher^^y n «^ unat t woman had been > ' moßt fashion \£ 4y*3f was a hnge ; w Jer face m her breast; and ** ?5 d Ottered, as if it WW »* th?fa ? J^^ h * heavy weapon. •Jilinrag W-b! g j ?ened servants were ex- *« were dead at the sound, T they "« ««» •ttnding on the threshold.

MURDER AND MYSTERY.

"What is all this?" he demanded. "Tell me - ,L hea j£ a "pise Has anything bappened?' Then, his glance fallmg~on the motionless figure, he uttered a scream oi terror. "Oh. God in heaven! Some monster has murdered my beloved Fanny. Quick' fetch a doctor." When a medical man arrived, his first care was for the stricken Duchess. But although her heart still fluttered faintly she was beyond his help; and she was dead before the blood could be washed from hei wounds. Probing the Mystery. More police and more doctors were quickly summoned. The latter, of course could do nothing; but two commissaries M. M. Bruzelin and Prosper Truy, whe arrived from the adjacent Champs-Elyseei police office, soon had. their hands full They began by asking questions of every body present, and taking copious notes ol the replies. The theory they advanced wai that the murder had been committed bj burglars. It sounded feasible, until th< Duchess' maid declared that none of th« jewels were missing. The burglary theorj collapsing, the police proceeded to carrj out a very thorough examination of th< room. The first thing they noticed wai that, apparently with a view to preventing an alarm being given, the bell-pull abov< the bed had been cut. Still, from th< bloodstained imprints on' the walls am door panels, it was clear that the Duchesi had made a desperate effort to escape whei she was first attacked. Underneath a sofa one of the detectives found a pistol, mattei with blood and hair. Obviously, it wai the weapon with which the victim's heac had been beaten in, either before or aftei she had been stabbed. "Does this belong to anybody here?' inquired the magistrate, not for oih moment imagining the ownership would lx acknowledged.. "It belongs- to me," said the Dukt calmly. "To you, M. le Due? But how did il come here?" demanded the astonishec official. "Very simply. I will tell you just what happened. At daybreak this morning 1 heard cries for help. Thinking robbers were in the house, I seized this pistol, and hurried here. I found the Duchess lying on the floor, having evidently been at tacked. In attempting to lift her, mj slothes got stained with her blood. I wenl hack to my room to wash it off, for fear my children should be frightened. On re turning, I found the'servants here, and told them to fetch a doctor. That was my first anxiety." "And what did you do with the pistol?" "I dropped it behind the sofa, and forgot it." "And can you also explain how it comes to be covered with blood and hair." "I am a Peer of France," was the haughty response. "I do not give 'explanations.' M. Allard, on whom had fallen the mantle of the great Vidocq, then had a few questions of his own to put. "Can you tell us," he began, "why the hell pull has been cut" "I do not know." "Then, perhaps, you can tell us something else that puzzles me. How is it that the stains of blood on the floor lead to your rooms?" "Simply enough. When I attempted to lift my poor wife from the couch, my clothing got covered with her blood." "I see. And how was it you hurt yourself." "Hurt myself? I do not understand." "Well, M. le Due, I notice that you [imp. Is your leg injured?" "Yes. I injured it a week ago, getting out of my carriage." "So? And that scratch on your hand? Bow did "that happen?" "I must have knocked it against something." rk "Against the teeth of the Duchess, by any chance?" inquired M. Broussais, putting into words what everybody had been thinking. "We would like to have a look at your, leg," The suggestion was resented but to no purpose. A doctor declared that the mark on his hand was that of a bite, and that the- injury to the leg was caused by a bruise inflicted within the last three hours. Still more significant was the discovery of the severed end of the bell-pull hidden under his shirt. It seemed an odd place for it, and the Duke could offer no explanation as to how it got there. Arrest and Sslcide. After this, the ' magistrates had no choice but to instruct M. Allard to keep the Duke under observation. It was impossible to do.more just then, for in 1847 the privileges of a Peer of France were such as prevent one of their number being actually arrested without the sanction of the Court of Peers.' "If the Duke is not lodged in prison at Once," said the chief of police, "he is certain to be lynched." This argument prevailed, and the royal signature having been secured, a warrant was issued, committing the Duke to the Luxembourg Prison. But, before it could be carried into effect, M. Allard reported that his charge and swallowed a dose of poison, and was seriously ill. However, with a doctor in attendance, he was transferred there the next evening. On arriving at the prison, the examination of the Duke was commenced without delay. It was carried out by Baron Pasqnier, the Chancellor. Although he had been an intimate friend of his, and, as such, had signed the register at his wedding, he did not permit this to interfere with what he conceived to be the course of justice. The result was, the proceedings were carried out on the approved French lines. That is, the Duke's guilt was taken for granted, and a determined effort was made to extract from him an admission to this effect. As, however, the wretched man was obviously on the verge of collapse, the prison doctor had to be summoned to attend to him. This official declared him to be suffering from cholera. A faulty diagnosis. What the Duke was really suffering from was the poison he had swallowed. It must have been a powerful one, for he only lived another three days. Just before the end, the Dnke Decazes visited him in his cell,-to see if he could extract a confession. "You suffer much, my dear friend,".he said. "Yet, this is a fittingtime when, for your name, for your family, memory and for your children you should make an effort to speak. Consider, to poison oneself is to admit's one's guilt. An innocent person, whose nine children have just been deprived of their mother, would not destroy himself. The least you can now do is to express regret for your crime." "I do regret it," murmured the-other. • "Then, will you confess your guilt to the chancellor? "Not to-day," was the feeble response. "I am- too. ill. Tell him 4to tomorrow. I will speak to him them." But, when Baron Pasquier came "back the next morning, it was too late. The Duke de ..Praslin would never speak to anyone again. ■■■ , At midnight on August 26, the remains of the Duke de Praslin. were roughly coffined, and then, as those of a suicide, furtively buried in unebnsecrated ground. Bnt, as might have been expected, the very furtiveness of the funeral, defeated its object. An any- rate, a story ■prang up that, with the connivance of the authorities, the ceremony was . a mock one and that, so far from dying in prison, the Duke recovered and Vended his days peacefully in England. -He was also said to have lived (after being buried) for some years in America and a lady journalist declared that she met him in Brussels in H*7o.\ ;', '.■ ■ ,■.* .-, , r :.y> - .;•# While these stories were ridiculous and unfounded, there did happen to be one significant matter on which the de Praslin family always observed the utmost secrecy. This' was that the marriage contracts of the Duke's children contained a clause binding them to pay an annuity to "an unknown person living in England."