Mated from the Morgue: A Tale of the Second Empire

In Short

Set against the vibrant, turbulent backdrop of the Second Empire in Paris, Mated from the Morgue follows O'Hara, an impecunious expatriate who drifts through the Latin Quarter, encounters a shocking tragedy at the Morgue involving a woman named Marguerite, and becomes entangled in the lives of a colorful circle that includes a Napoleonic captain, a young grisette, and local duelists. John Augustus O'Shea's novel endures as a vivid, on-the-spot study of French manners, street life, and bohemian camaraderie, eschewing conventional romance for a brisk, observational look at human nature.

The Story

The story opens in the bustling, impoverished Latin Quarter of Paris, where O'Hara and his loyal dog roam the streets on meager funds before drifting toward the public Morgue. There, amidst a morbid crowd, O'Hara witnesses the body of a young, striking woman named Marguerite, who has evidently taken her own life. The spectacle causes a young grisette named Berthe to faint into O'Hara's arms. A passing stranger in a frieze coat assists them, guiding Berthe back to her street near the Pantheon, where she is joyfully greeted by her friend Caroline.

Buoyed by an unexpected remittance of twenty pounds from Ireland, O'Hara transforms from a shivering lodger into a comfortable dandy, spending his evenings in animated discussion with Captain Chauvin, an old Bonapartist who recounts campaigns and past duels with fierce nostalgia. Meanwhile, O'Hara becomes involved in a delicate crisis when a boasting student named Eugène Siraudin challenges a rival over an ivory paper-knife, threatening a fatal encounter. O'Hara neatly defuses the situation by substituting leadless pistols for a duel at Clamart, ending the hostile posturing in a wave of universal laughter.

Romance and domesticity follow as O'Hara and his companions settle into the rhythms of Parisian life, culminating in a wedding celebration that rejects ostentatious display in favor of genuine fellowship and a modest honeymoon spent close to home. The characters tour the Louvre, gazing upon an idealized statue of Napoleon in his youth. Yet time and distance prove unsentimental; a letter from a cousin in London eventually shatters old illusions regarding past attachments, revealing that a tress of hair once kept warm at O'Hara's heart belonged to a woman now far removed from her humble Parisian beginnings. The narrative closes on a note of wry, reflective detachment, leaving the turbulent memories of the Second Empire behind.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins O'Hara wanders the buoyant, slovenly alleys of the Latin Quarter with his canine companion, balancing a precarious budget of sous between bread and tobacco. Their stroll leads them to the open space before the Morgue, where street mountebanks entertain the passing crowds with songs and acrobatics.

A gruesome discovery Pushing through the morbid throngs inside the Morgue, O'Hara identifies the body of a self-drowned woman lying upon a cold slab. The sight causes a sensitive young grisette to collapse in a dead faint, thrusting O'Hara into an awkward public scene resolved only by a stranger's timely intervention.

The transformation A sudden twenty-pound remittance from Ireland rescues O'Hara from his chilly hotel room and restores him to luxurious comfort before a blazing hearth. He cultivates the friendship of Captain Chauvin, listening spellbound to reminiscences of the Napoleonic wars and old duels fought under the moon.

The bloodless field Threatened by a foolish quarrel over an ivory paper-knife, the Latin Quarter youths prepare for a fatal morning meeting at Clamart. O'Hara secretly extracts the bullets from the weapons, turning a potentially tragic duel into a harmless farce that ends in shared wine and laughter.

The final disillusionment Following quiet wedding festivities and an excursion to view early imperial relics at the Louvre, O'Hara receives a blunt letter from his cousin in London. The correspondence shatters old romantic memories with news of a former acquaintance now glittering under a false name in Mayfair.

The People

O'Hara is a buoyant, impoverished young Irishman in Paris who desires freedom and intellectual fellowship, though his lack of funds constantly threatens his comfort until an unexpected remittance restores his fortunes and leaves him wiser about the fickle nature of affection. Captain Chauvin is an aging veteran of the Grande Armée whose life is anchored in fierce devotion to Napoleon; he seeks to pass on his memories of past glories, remaining remarkably youthful in spirit despite deep wrinkles and white hair. Berthe is a sensitive, delicate grisette who wants security and simple affection, though her fragile nerves and sudden swoons expose her to the emotional tempests of the Latin Quarter. Caroline is a slender, dark-haired brunette of mercurial energy who fiercely protects her friends and looks upon strangers with chilling surprise. Eugène Siraudin is a swaggering French student whose pride and penchant for grand gestures land him in a absurdly theatrical duel that tests his bravado. Hyacinth Blake is an observant Irish cousin in London who writes with sharp, irreverent humor, puncturing romantic illusions with unvarnished reports from abroad.

In Its Own Voice

Describing the unique atmosphere of the Latin Quarter where the narrative begins, the author writes: "The quarter of frolic and genius, of vaulting ambition and limp money-bags, of generosity and meanness, of truth and hypocrisy; the quarter which supplies the France of the future with its mighty thinkers, the France of the passing with the forlorn hopes of its revolutions, the world--and the demi monde too--very often with its most brilliant and erratic meteors."

Reflecting on the sensory impact of a Parisian spring morning prior to the planned duel, the text notes: "It was a rosy, odorous, appetizing morn; a morn for a pleasant woodland walk under the branches where small birds chavished; a morn to drop gently down the river and ply the indolent rod; a morn for a canter on a brisk cob across the sweet-scented meadows; a morn for plucking flowers, smoking choice cigars, love-dreaming, or poetic musing--for anything, in fact, but thoughts of sudden and violent death."

What It's Really About

The novel examines the tension between romantic illusion and stark reality, particularly how memory, poverty, and social ambition shape human behavior. Through O'Hara's wanderings and Captain Chauvin's fireside stories, O'Shea questions the true worth of human actions, contrasting the grandiose worship of political and military figures like Napoleon with the mundane struggle for daily bread. The text explores whether youthful ideals can survive the practical compromises of life in Paris, ultimately suggesting that sentimentality must yield to a humorous, unpretentious acceptance of human weakness.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate leisurely, atmospheric nineteenth-century prose, rich with historical local color and dry wit, will find much to enjoy here. It feels like stepping into a crowded Parisian café or walking the cobblestones of the Latin Quarter alongside eccentric expatriates, offering a genuine, unromanticized slice of bohemian existence. However, modern readers should be prepared for period attitudes, digressive pacing, and occasional period slang that require patience. Those who stay with it will be rewarded by a sharp, unsentimental portrait of a vanished era that lingers in the mind long after the final page.