Volume II: Filmography

M. LECOQ

Production still courtesy Dominick Bruzzese. (F-863)

a.k.a. MONS. LECOQ

a.k.a. MONSIEUR LECOQ

August 26, 1915 (Thursday)

Length: 4 reels

Character: Drama; Mutual Masterpicture

Scenario: Based upon Émile Gaboriau's detective stories

Cast: William Morris (M. Lecoq, detective), Alphonse Ethier (Duke of Sairmuse), Florence LaBadie (his wife, Duchess of Sairmuse), Reginald Barlow (Otto, the duke's valet), Julia Blanc (Mother Chupin), Morgan Jones (the first judge)

Notes: 1. The title was given in various forms, as noted, with the style Mons. Lecoq appearing in several Thanhouser advertisements. 2. The surname Sairmuse also appeared in print as de Sairmuse and DeSairmuse. The pronunciation of this surname was close to that of Arthur P. DeSormeaux, who had a business connection with the Thanhouser Film Corporation at one time.

BACKGROUND OF THE SCENARIO: M. Lecoq, a detective story published in 1869 and translated into English the same year, was from the pen of Émile Gaboriau (1832-1839). Gaboriau's fictional character of M. Lecoq was based upon the life of Eugene Francois Vidocq, a criminal who later became a detective and, ultimately, was in charge of the investigative branch of the Paris Sureté. Vidocq's first of four volumes of memoirs was published in 1828. His writing inspired a later generation of detective fiction writers, including Gaboriau. Born in Saujon, France, Gaboriau was known in France as the father of the modern detective story. Most of his works were first published in newspaper supplements. Another of his stories, Other People's Money, was made into a Thanhouser film released on June 1, 1916.

SYNOPSIS, Reel Life, August 14, 1915:

"Monsieur Lecoq, the famous detective, while sauntering about Paris one evening, heard a succession of shots coming from the 'Pepperbox,' an ill-favored inn kept by old Mother Chupin. Several gendarmes were within call and Lecoq reached the spot in time to capture the man whose revolver had laid lifeless at his feet two notorious criminals. Their slayer did not attempt to deny his guilt. 'But,' he insisted, 'I shot those blackguards in self-defense.'

"'And so he did, so he did,' mumbled Mother Chupin. 'In my house, gentlemen shoot only that they may defend themselves.' Lecoq's keen eye roved over the man before him. Despite his rough clothes bearing out the prisoner's own story that he was a laborer out of work, the detective observed the ineffaceable marks of good breeding. He was convinced that his mysterious captive was a person of rank and distinction. When the man had been marched off by the gendarmes, Lecoq lingered in the inn, looking over the premises carefully. The gleam of a valuable jewel caught his eye. Picking from the floor a diamond earring, the detective hurried out of doors. The dainty footprints of a woman were traceable for some distance. Then they became coupled with the heavy, uneven prints of a man. Apparently her companion limped. A patch of brown wool, caught in the rough bark of a tree where he had been leaning, furnished further evidence. But by the time Lecoq reached headquarters, he learned that a lame man in a brown overcoat, who had been locked into the same room with the slayer on a charge of drunkenness, only a few minutes before had regained his senses and been set at liberty.

"'The accomplice, without doubt,' Lecoq told himself. 'He deliberately plotted a means of getting himself locked up, in order to map out with the prisoner a line of defense which the latter should follow. The first step is to hunt down the man in the brown overcoat.' But this mysterious character successfully evaded the best laid traps of the cleverest sleuth in Paris. Lecoq changed his tactics. He spied upon the prisoner, and soon satisfied himself that the slayer was in communication with someone outside. A note in book cipher was intercepted. As there was but one book in the cell, Lecoq had no difficulty in working out the message. The prisoner asked for tools with which to make his escape. The detective, adopting desperate measures, persuaded the authorities to let the man get away, assuring them that he, Lecoq, would always be at his heels. A few weeks later, Lecoq succeeded in cornering both the slayer and the man in the brown overcoat.

"From the low dive where he had found them conspiring, he shadowed them to the walls of the garden surrounding the ancient palace of the Duc de Sairmuse. Suddenly, the overcoated man lifted the other and dropped him over the wall. Lecoq grappled with the accomplice. By the time help had come, an investigation of the Sairmuse estate yielded nothing. The Duke, just home from abroad, rendered every assistance possible. But Lecoq had formed a definite suspicion - he believed that the Duke and the slayer were one and the same.

"At the same time Lecoq knew that it would be useless to make such a charge against a powerful nobleman. He pondered the situation. A clue presented itself in the conduct of Maurice d'Escorval, the first judge, who, immediately after seeing the prisoner, had been mysteriously stricken ill, and had handed over the case to one of his colleagues. The following day, Lecoq played his last card. A messenger, who insisted upon delivering a letter to the Duke in person, was received by de Sairmuse. The note was signed M. d'Escorval. It stated that the judge, on recognizing His Grace, had shielded him. It also requested a loan of money, and the grateful Duke sat down immediately to pen a reply. He had written some dozen lines when the letter was snatched from him. Lecoq removed his disguise. 'I now have all the evidence I need,' said Lecoq.

"The nobleman broke down completely. He pleaded with Lecoq. The de Sairmuse name had been at stake. He had risked his life, his honor, for his house, one of the oldest and proudest in France. The Duchess Cecile was a woman of humble birth, but their marriage had been happy until de Sairmuse had come upon a blackmail letter commanding her to bring a large sum of money to Mother Chupin's inn, under penalty that her husband 'learn all.' He had followed his wife on the appointed night, reaching the inn just in time to see two rough characters attack her and drag from her ear one of her diamond earrings. The Duke had gone to Cecile's rescue, and in defending her and himself, he had shot down the two blackguards, one of whom he then learned was his wife's brother, a convict. 'So, the honor of the de Sairmuse name now rests with me?' said Lecoq, as His Grace finished speaking. Then the detective turned, and throwing the incriminating letters into the fire, held out his hand to the Duke."

REVIEW, The Morning Telegraph, August 22, 1915:

"This play, adapted from the famous detective story of the same name by Émile Gaboriau, lacks most of the faults that brand the ordinary tale of this sort. The action is swift, and the play holds its secret till very near the end, while the unraveling causes no let down. The acting is adequate throughout. William Morris did the part of M. Lecoq without the usual detective tricks. Alphonse Ethier as the Duke showed a good deal of subtlety and made the character appealing even as a convict. The unattractive part of Mother Chupin was done with great effect by Julia Blanc.

"The story traces the unwinding of a murder mystery discovered by M. Lecoq in an unsavory inn near Paris. The detective catches the murderer practically red-handed, but the man protests he shot in self-defense. A woman's ring and small footsteps outside the inn assure M. Lecoq that his prisoner is lying. Through clever spying in the jail the detective finds out a plot to help the murderer escape. He lets the plan go through and then tracks the convict as he slips away from the jail. In disguise he follows him through backways and taverns, and finally sees him dart into the house of the Duke Sairmuse. He gets permission to search the house, but finds nothing, although the Duke helps in the hunt. Gradually the Duke's features sink into Lecoq's mind, and the solution of the mystery occurs to him. By a clever trap he leads the Duke to confess himself the murderer. The Duchess, he says, was of humble birth. Her brother was a convict, and, to conceal this fact from her husband, she went to the inn and he followed her, and the murder was committed in an effort to save her from an assault by the blackmailers. The play ends with an assurance from Lecoq that the Duke's honor will be safe in his keeping.

"The details of the story were careful and convincing. When the Duke read a paper it was a French paper, and the whole atmosphere was entirely French. The cipher used by the Duke in his escape from jail was clever and not as impossible to translate as most. Of its kind the film is distinctly a good one, and ought to take with all lovers of detective stories - who make up a large section of the public."

REVIEW by Louis Reeves Harrison, The Moving Picture World, August 28, 1915: This review is reprinted in the narrative section of the present work.

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