Napoleon's Police

by Michele McGrath

  It was still dark when we got out of the hack but torches had been lit along the route, so we could see where we were walking. We picked our way carefully, avoiding patches of slush which had not yet been swept away. We hurried to the door of the church. None of us bothered to stop and examine the wonderful carving or the glistening draperies that billowed as the cold air followed us. We were too chilled.

  One of the imperial lackeys came forward. He wore a green jacket, the colour of Corsica, embroidered all over with golden bees, Napoléon’s new symbol. I look more closely at embroidery now since Eugénie does so much of it. Those insects would take a long time to complete even for someone skilled. The seamstress must have put hours of work into one of his sleeves alone. The lackey was holding a sheaf of papers.

  “Your names, please?” he asked us, obviously ready to search for our places.

  “I doubt we will be your list,” I said and the man seemed to draw himself up, as he prepared to deny us entry.

  “Then I am sorry, you cannot come in.” He made waving motions with his hands as if he would sweep us out of the building.

  “Indeed we can,” I replied, in my most authoritative tone. “Your list has been superseded by the Emperor himself.” I thrust the paper which was our ticket into his hand. “Read that!”

  He took a step backwards and did not even look at our authorisation. His face reddened and he opened his mouth to shout at me. Before he said another word, Lefebvre stepped close to him, thrusting his nose to within an inch of the man’s face.

  “Read it, if you know what’s good for you,” Lefebvre hissed menacingly and his hand moved. The lackey gasped and shrank away from him. Obediently his eyes dropped to the paper and I thought that they almost bulged as he read it.

  “I will have to ask my superior about this,” he said and started to turn into the cathedral.

  “Not with our ticket you don’t,” Lefebvre said, twitching it from his fingers.

  The man hurried off and we were left inside the door in the fragrant darkness. The scent of flowers and incense wafted in the candlelit air. So few people had yet arrived that the perfume had not yet been sullied by the smell of tightly packed humanity.

  “What did you do to him?” I asked Lefebvre. “He jumped as if he had been poked in the stomach.”

  “He had,” Lefebvre replied with a grin. “Be grateful I only used my fingers and not my dagger.”

  “Well, he’ll do nothing for us now, you idiot,” Fournier murmured. “Can you imagine what would have happened to us if you’d stabbed him? We wouldn’t be in the cathedral, we’d be in gaol!”

  In the end the lackey fetched his superior to us and hurried away as if the devil himself was after him. The superior, a toplofty man covered in gold braid, examined our paper closely, in particular the signature.

  “Where did you get this?” he asked suspiciously.

  “From the hand of the Emperor himself.”

  “It is dated last night.”

  “We received it last night. We completed a task for him and this is his way of thanking us.”

  “I must go and ask.”

  “No you must not,” I said. “There isn’t time before the other guests arrive. Three of us are Police agents. Are you really going to challenge the Emperor’s word? What is your name? Fournier make a note so we can report him. Monsieur Fouché will be most interested to learn how the Emperor’s instructions are ignored.”

  Fournier pretended to draw his notebook and pencil from his pocket but it was not necessary. The man’s face had paled at the mention of Fouché. He only raised one more objection.

  “No need for any unpleasantness. I will do my best for you but I can’t think where to put you,” he wailed. “All the seats are allocated and people will even have to stand in the aisles. The cathedral is full.”

  “Surely there are some persons you dislike that you would be glad to displace,” Lefebvre suggested slyly. “Mistakes happen and this is a good time to pay off old scores. If anyone questions you, you have the Emperor’s authorisation in your hand.”

  The man’s frown lightened for a moment as he pondered Lefebvre’s words. Then he seemed to make up his mind. “Come with me,” he said. “I will do what I can, but you will be squeezed in tight when everybody arrives.”

  “That does not matter as long as we can see the Emperor and Empress crowned.”

  He led us towards a side chapel, where scaffolding had been erected with tiers of seats, reaching almost to the roof.

  “I hope you don’t mind heights,” he said as he showed us to the top row of all. Berthe Fournier needed to be helped up by François and her husband. She had closed her eyes, so she should not see the drop below. The two men between them shuffled her up to her place. Fortunately neither Eugénie, Lefebvre nor I suffer in that way. In fact I was rather pleased with our position. Once seated, we would be able to look over the heads of all the people below to the altar itself. We thanked the lackey who had followed us. He looked relieved as he left us there.

  Cold air was blowing round the church but more and more people were trickling in. A buzz of noise announced the arrival of the musicians and singers. There seemed to be thousands of them, all milling around, taking out their instruments and tuning them. Indeed we found out later there was over five hundred present.

  We were still alone in our section and there was, as yet, nothing to see. Lefebvre had started to fidget. He is never content to sit still unless there is a good reason for it. To pass the time, I said to Eugénie,

  “You did not tell me what happened after Lefebvre left you last night. Will you tell us the story now?”

  “Very well,” she said with a smile, “I was surprised when Jean arrived at the door at Leroy’s. Dénis, our porter was trying to prevent him coming into the workroom.”

  “Poor man. I hope you did not hurt him?” I asked Lefebvre.

  “Of course not. Eugénie has to work there. What do you take me for?”

  Diplomatically I did not answer him and Eugénie continued.

  “Anyway, Jean stopped pushing forward as soon as he saw me. He called out to me instead. As it happened, his timing could not have been better, because I had just finished the last piece I was working on. I was putting my coat on, ready to go home. I thought he looked worried and you must have sent him to me for a reason. I went over to Jean. If I hadn’t, he would have pushed poor Dénis aside to speak to me wouldn’t you, Jean?” Lefebvre shook his head but grinned. “Tomas had come over by then, wanting to know who Jean was and why he had barged into the workroom like that.”

  “I shoved the Emperor’s authorisation under his nose and I thought he was going to faint,” Lefebvre said, still grinning.

  “Tomas asked what he could do to help and Jean said he wanted me to take a package to the Emperor at the Tuileries. He did not want to take it himself because you were in trouble and he had to go back to find you. At that point I started to panic and told him to go at once.”

  “I gave Eugénie the parcel. I told her that it was vital she give it to no one except the Emperor. The authorisation should be enough to ensure that she reached him. The old man Tomas said that it must be important, to interrupt the Emperor on the night before his coronation. He would go with Eugénie himself to make sure that she got there safely.”

  “Good man!” I said.

  “Tomas has always been my friend,” Eugénie agreed. “Jean thanked him and hurried off. I was a bit dazed, knowing you were in trouble but not what sort of danger. I could hardly think what I was doing. Tomas was wonderful. He told Dénis to fetch a hack and to come with us as well. Bless the two of them. Tomas picked up a stout pole and gave one to Dénis, in case someone tried to stop us. Jean was right, though. I lost count of the number of people we spoke to at the palace, but the authorisation worked as if it was magic. The Emperor’s aide was fetched out of his office to talk to us. ‘The Emperor cannot see anyone,’ he told us. ‘He is still working and has given orders that he
is not to be disturbed.’

  ‘Believe me; the Emperor will want to be disturbed by this,’ I told him. ‘I have brought something he greatly desires. I must give to him now; it cannot wait until morning. Tell him that Alain Duval, my husband, works at the Ministry of Police. He cannot come himself so he has entrusted me with an item that is needed for the coronation ceremony tomorrow.’

  ‘Give it to me, I will take it to His Majesty,’ he said.

  ‘Certainly not. I must only give it to the Emperor himself. You have his authorisation in your hand. Take me to him. You will be extremely sorry if you do not,’ I warned him.

  ‘On your head be it then’, he muttered as he left us in an anteroom. I had indeed spoken enchanted words and we were admitted to the Emperor’s study. It is such a big room and so long a walk, for he did not come forward to greet us. He had obviously been still pouring over the books piled up beside him as his aide said. It is rumoured that he rarely sleeps and I can believe that now. Who else would choose to work on the night before his coronation when he might have had his choice of all the celebrations in Paris? I was terrified. Tomas took hold of my arm and led me up to his desk. Napoléon was looking straight at me as if he could see inside my mind. Then he stood up. I curtseyed and Tomas bowed.

  ‘Madame Duval,’ the Emperor said, ‘I do not believe I have met you. My aide said you had something important for me, which will be needed for the coronation.’

  ‘Indeed I do, Sire. I am here on behalf of my husband, Alain Duval, who works for the Ministry of Police,’ I told him. ‘You tasked him with finding an item that had gone missing. I was given this to bring to you.’ I had hidden Lefebvre’s bag beneath my clothing, to keep it safe. Now I untied the string of my cloak and took out the parcel. I held it out to him.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, watching me closely.

  ‘I have not opened it. I was told only that it is the thing that you have been searching for.’

  ‘Is it indeed?’ Napoléon put the package onto his desk and it gave a clunk as if there was metal inside. That it was heavy I already knew, from carrying it.

  He opened the bag with his back to us and then turned around so we saw what it contained. I gasped as I looked at the glorious thing, all gold with precious gems sparkling in the candlelight.

  ‘The Empress’s crown,’ Napoléon said softly. ‘It has been lost and now it is recovered. Tell Duval that I am very grateful it has been returned unharmed and my thanks to you for bringing it to me. Where is your husband and why did not he bring it himself?’

  ‘In danger,’ I told him and suddenly I felt very giddy. The next thing I knew, I was lying back in a chair in front of the fire. Tomas fanned me and a lackey held a glass of water to my lips. The Emperor asked Tomas how the crown had come into my possession. When he described Jean, the Emperor said,

  ‘Lefebvre! Of course, it would be. Where one goes, so does the other with that pair. Do you know where either of them is now?’

  Tomas did not. The Emperor asked some more questions but we had already told him all we knew. So he dismissed us, saying that he would speak to Fouché and send a troop of soldiers after you, once he had found out where to send them. He told us not to speak of the crown to anyone. We were to bring him word if we received any further communication from you. Then he sent us to our homes in one of his own beautiful carriages with outriders to protect us.”

  “Thank you my love, for the story and for delivering the crown.”

  By this time our section of the cathedral was starting to fill up and we could not speak about the case any more, in case we should be overheard. I looked around me, watching for people that I knew. There were very few of them at first, a couple of Policemen and a general.

  “Oh, there is Madame de Herlay and her daughter.” Eugénie pointed to an elegant woman in black velvet some rows in front of us. “I knew they would be here.” Eugénie started to wave, but Madame de Herlay did not see her; she was looking in a different direction.

  Soft music had started to play as the musicians took turns to entertain the crowds. There was a great rustle of conversation as people found their seats or stood chatting with their friends. The air was scented with a hundred perfumes through which the tangy scent of incense cut its path. With more people in the church and our elevated position, the air around us had become warmer. When I next looked at Eugénie, I found that she had taken off her cloak. She now showed off the antique lace that ornamented from the bodice and sleeves of her grey velvet dress. She looked slightly flushed with excitement as she gazed eagerly over the throng. She could have stepped from the pages of a fairytale. I had a sudden pang. Ever since I fell in love with her, I have wanted to deck her out in fine dresses, but the salary of a Police agent does not allow such frivolities. Now she looked like a princess in her borrowed clothes which were sadly not of my providing. I smiled, though, when I saw that she wore the small string of pearls that I had given her on our wedding day, all that I could afford. The pearls in her ears I had never seen before.

  “Where did you get your earrings?” I asked curiously.

  “Maman lent them to me. Didn’t you see her give them to me when we left Aimée with her?”

  “No. I wondered what you were doing but I was concerned, thinking we’d be late.”

  “Silly. When I told her we had been invited to the coronation, Maman wanted me to wear them. Papa gave them to her many years ago so I must take great care of them,” she said with a smile.

  “One day I will buy you a pair of your own,” I promised her.

  As time passed, most of the seats had been taken and many people clustered in the side aisles. The main aisle, down which the imperial procession would enter the building, had been kept clear by a combination of soldiers of the Guard and the imperial lackeys. We had been sitting for hours, occasionally rising, when the trumpeters sounded a blast which brought everybody in the cathedral to their feet. Various processions entered the cathedral, deputations from the cities of France, the Army and Navy and the Legislative Assemblies. They were followed by the judiciary, the administrative corps, the Legion of Honour and chambers of commerce. One of our well informed neighbours identified each of them for us. With each group of people, the buzzing noise and the excitement increased.

  Gradually the guests filled the more important seats in the cathedral. I had a strange fancy that a magnificent stained-glass window had been shattered, its fragments coating the nave and the pews with sparkling colours. Red-robed judges sat next to ladies in white or pale colours, glittering with gold embroidery. The green uniforms of the chasseurs mingled with the blue of the Old Guards. Medals and sashes were everywhere. The members of the Legislative Assembly made a splash of dark colour amid all the splendour. Certain individuals stood out from the others. The envoy from the Ottoman Empire wore a vivid emerald and cream turban. A lady in the front row was all in scarlet, from the plumes nodding on her head to the tips of her shoes. From our vantage point, above her head, she looked like a huge red ball. A black soldier was obviously a person of some importance because of the number of people clustered around him. He sparkled, dressed in shimmering silver except for his cloth-of-gold sash.

  A small interval occurred and then the sound of cheering outside sounded again before the trumpeters blew another fanfare. The cheering, though, seemed too muted to be for the Emperor.

  “It cannot be Napoléon yet,” Eugénie agreed, clinging to my arm as she peered over the crowd towards the doorway. The orchestra played an introduction and then the choir sang,

  “Tu es Petrus.”

  “It isn’t the Emperor, it’s the Pope,” I replied, grasping at the remnants of my schoolboy Latin.

  Proceeded by attendants bearing lighted candles and a long-handled cross, the white robed Pope Pius VII, the cardinals, and grand officers of the Curia walked down the aisle. The elderly Pope looked tired and strained; an old man who had been forced to make an unwanted journey in winter weather. He had experienced many dif
ficulties along the way and arrived late, much to Napoléon’s annoyance. The Pope raised his hand to bless the crowd, turning from side to side as he walked. Some of the older women crossed themselves and dropped to their knees as he did so. Most of the men did not even bow their heads for his blessing. Eugénie, who has always been devout, made the sign of the cross but fortunately did not try to kneel. If she had, we would have had difficulty in getting her to her feet again because by now, we were packed into the stand with barely room to breathe. I had a thought that she might have fallen onto the row below if she had tried to move. I had the greatest difficulty avoiding the elbows of my companions, in case they touched my ribs.

  The Pope took a seat to the left side of the altar with his attendants clustered round him. Then we waited and waited and waited. We had become cramped, hot and very uncomfortable. Fortunately the excitement sustained us. Not that we could have got out if we had wanted to.

  It seemed an eternity before we heard the sound of cheering outside again, much louder cheering this time. Indeed it was so noisy, that it could only be the Emperor at last. The trumpets rang out, calling us all to stand. We did, eventually, although Berthe Fournier had to be helped to her feet. Her legs would not work; we had all been sitting still for so long.

  The doors opened wide and a man in a marshal’s uniform, ablaze with gold braid entered. I recognised him immediately, Maréchal Murat, the governor of Paris and husband of Napoléon’s sister, Caroline. Soldiers from different regiments followed him. They marched in and took positions on each side of the aisle. A group of ministers followed wearing their gala uniforms. Amongst them I saw the Foreign Minister, Tallyrand, walking with Fouché, who looked rather uncomfortable in elaborate formal dress instead of his usual plain black coat.

  The procession of the Empress followed. This was led by ladies in shell pink dresses carrying cushions bearing various items of her regalia, her crown amongst them. I could not help nudging Lefebvre when I saw it far below me. Then Joséphine herself appeared in a white gown embroidered with gold. Diamonds sparkled from her neck and her tiara. Her red velvet coronation robe, lined with ermine, trailed after her, held up at the edges by her daughter, the Princess Hortense, and the Emperor’s sisters.