Napoleon's Police

by Michele McGrath

  We rode into Paris: myself, Fouché, two servants and a few of his retainers. When we crossed the Place Vendôme, we saw a huge sign hanging between the trees. It said “From Napoleon to Louis XVIII: my dear brother, it is not necessary to send me more troops, I already have enough of them!” Even Fouché stopped to laugh at that.

  “As I predicted,” he said to me in a quiet voice. “Louis will never keep him out of Paris. Whether he can keep it forever is another matter.”

  We reached the city before the Emperor. After a quick stop at his hôtel, where several people were waiting to see him, Fouché and I went straight to the Tuileries. We waited there for Napoleon’s arrival, even though it was almost midnight.

  “I might need you,” he said. “Stay with me.”

  Rumour said that the Emperor was even now approaching the city gate. We stood in the entrance to the palace with some other people, including Queen Hortense, who was shivering with cold and anticipation. We were in time to watch the Emperor galloping along the street, lit by flickering torches. He came straight towards us, his men trailing behind him as usual, trying to keep up. The crowd was roaring their support,

  “Vive l’Empéreur!”

  The noise seemed to echo off the surrounding buildings and the din was deafening. At that instant I thought the Emperor would succeed. I forgot about the other nations surrounding us and lost myself in that strange and never to be repeated moment when Napoleon was cheered home through Paris. I would have shouted also, but Fouché did not make a sound. He stood there with his lips pressed together and a deep frown on his face.

  The Emperor came to the bottom of the steps, dismounted and the people surged around him. They boosted him to their shoulders and carried him into the palace and up the grand staircase. Fouché and I were brushed aside in the crush. The last time I saw Fouché, he was fighting his way out of the mêlée towards one of the side rooms. Then I lost sight of him and did not see him any more that night.

  I had no particular wish to stay. It would certainly be many hours before the crowd dispersed and Napoleon turned to business, if at all. I would not be needed immediately and I was tired. I sidled into the back passages and found one of the doors that led out onto the Rue de Rivoli. I thanked heaven for the fact that I knew the Tuileries so well. This was just one in a series of adventures in the building. I hurried outside, crossed the river and sought out Fournier.

  I wasn’t sure he would be at home with all the excitement going on and he wasn’t. His wife, Berthe, greeted me with hugs and squeals.

  “Why aren’t you out with him?” I asked after I answered her questions about Eugénie and why I had come back so soon.

  “I’m too old to go out into that mob, to be pummelled and bruised for no good reason. More fool Claude! He’s too nosey for his own good.”

  She made me sit by the fire while she brewed me some coffee and fed me on soup and bread.

  I had barely satisfied her curiosity about my new home and what was happening in the Tuileries, when Fournier arrived. Then I had to start the whole story all over again.

  “Fat Louis bolted last night, good riddance to him,” Fournier told me when I finished. “And you’ll like this – Laurent’s vanished as well.”

  “Good riddance to him also. Who’s left?”

  “Rollin, as you might expect; he’s too wily to be caught taking sides in any quarrel.” I nodded. “Réal, but for how much longer I don’t know. The usual crowd in fact.”

  “Lefebvre?”

  “Haven’t seen much of him since you left. Not sure where he is now.”

  “I’ll look for him tomorrow.”

  Berthe Fournier insisted I stay with them, until we knew what was happening and I was happy to accept her invitation. Indeed, I came here hoping she would make the offer. Our apartment had been given up when we left and it was late to be trying to find a lodging for the night. Not that I had much time to sleep. Fournier and I stayed up talking over old times and this new adventure, while we finished a bottle or two of red wine. We both dozed off beside the fire.

  Next day I awoke cramped and still tired. It was not until I had eaten and drunk some coffee that I could get some of the knots out of my spine and my legs.

  “It’s the price of you,” Berthe muttered over the noise of Fournier’s groaning. “You both had good beds to go to. Pair of drunken sots.”

  I decided not to go into the Ministry immediately. Everything was sure to be at sixes and sevens and I did not want any part in the chaos. Fouché had told me on our journey that Napoleon had appointed him Minister of Police again and he was going to accept the position. He would be confirmed in his role by now and who better than a sly old fox in times of trouble? The fox would have to stay loyal, of course, and that was the problem.

  Fouché wanted me to work for him for the present. He did not know how many of the present staff he could trust. I had no option but to accept. Fouché is even better at bearing grudges than Napoleon. In return, he promised to release me as soon as he could.

  I had something far more important to do this morning than waiting around in the Ministry, kicking my heels.

  “If anyone asks for me, tell them I’ll be in this afternoon. I don’t want to get caught up in all the panic,” I told Fournier. “I’m going to find Lefebvre.”

  “I thought you’d want to watch them squirm, wondering if they were safe or for the chop,” he said.

  “I can live without it,” I replied.

  “You’ve gone soft, mon ami, a little revenge is a sweet thing,” he said as I went out. I wondered. Perhaps he was right, but I no longer cared. Maybe those peaceful months in Grenoble changed something inside me.

  Lefebvre, my closest friend, also welcomed me with glee. “I’ve missed you, mon brave,” he said with a grin. “More than I expected to.”

  “I’ve missed you too, you old rogue,” I said, giving him a hug. “Come with me. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “Certainly. If you’re buying.”

  We went to one of our favourite haunts, where we were well known. The landlord greeted us with acclaim. So he should. We had spent enough money in his tavern over the years.

  “I thought you’d gone away,” he said to me.

  “I did but I’m back.”

  “Good,” he said and brought us a bottle. “On the house, this one. Welcome back.”

  “Why are you back?” Lefebvre asked. “Your Papa throw you out? Or is it something else?”

  “Something else. The Emperor to be precise.”

  “The Emperor? Didn’t think you were a supporter of his.”

  “I am and I’m not, as you know well. I haven’t changed my mind about him, but he’s better than those fools we’ve had for a year. I wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t been unlucky.”

  “Oh? How?” he asked, so I told him the story.

  “Trust you,” he said, with a laugh, “to fall off a wall at the wrong time. So Fouché’s back too, is he?” I nodded. “Surprised he came.”

  “He thinks the Emperor’s more likely to win than Louis.”

  “It’s what Austria, Russia and England do that matters. They’re unlikely to do nothing while France rearms.”

  “I agree with you.” I said. “The Emperor’s taking a huge risk; God knows where it will all end.”

  “Glory or destruction. Isn’t that always the way with him? What are you going to do?”

  “Obey orders and return to my old job, for a little while at least. I could use your help.”

  “As always. Where would you be without me, Soldier?”

  “Nowhere.” I gave him a friendly clout.

  Later on, I said, “Fournier told me you hadn’t been back at the Ministry for a while.”

  “He’s right. I couldn’t stand the place with Laurent giving himself airs and toadying up to our new masters. I also have a distaste for harassing people who are innocent of anything but refraining from rejoicing over the return of King Louis.”

  “Ti
mes change and things will go back as they were before, for the present at least.”

  “How long will that last though? All these changes make me reel.”

  “Who knows? Forever, if Napoleon defeats our enemies, months if he doesn’t. Can you spare me some time, old friend?”

  “For you, certainly. Not like you to be pessimistic though. Months, indeed.”

  “I’m no general to calculate the odds with any certainty. But whatever happens, I have a wife and a business in Grenoble. I’m going home as soon as I can and you with me if I have to kidnap you and take you there!”

  Lefebvre laughed. “Try it and see what happens. I’m still a match for you. I fight dirty and you don’t.”

  When we arrived at the Ministry of Police, a lot of the excitement had died down. People were just standing around waiting for orders, looking lost. It must have been very disconcerting for them. One day they were out looking for Jacobins or the Emperor’s supporters. Next day, they were likely to be ordered to start chasing Royalists instead. No wonder most of them were puzzled and uneasy. It looked like the line outside the confessional in church, with everyone trying to remember their sins.

  My return was greeted with the expected mixture of smiles and frowns. A few of my friends were still there, but so were my enemies. I sighed as the familiar depression blackened my spirits again. I had almost forgotten it in Grenoble, in spite of my father. The sooner I could go back home, the better I would feel.

  All of us were summoned to the Grande Salle where Fouché addressed us. He was the Minister again, with all his old aura of authority. Yet there was a look on his face like a man who might have backed the wrong horse. He gave us the usual exhortations, though his heart did not seem to be in them and he did not keep us long.

  I returned to the bureau with the rest. Fournier, who had worked there the longest, took it on himself to organise the work, now Laurent had departed. Lefebvre and I were given the job of checking on some of the numerous émigrés and supporters of the King, who had not yet left Paris. It was a fairly pointless task and designed more to get us out of the bureau and doing something rather than serious work.

  Most of the people we watched were not capable of causing trouble. Those that were hurriedly packed their bags and made for the nearest frontier, just as the King had done before them. We kept watching these so-called agents, finding little evidence of anything except their folly. Lefebvre and I spent the next two weeks chasing shadows, with almost nothing to report.

  Looking back, those days were full of boredom for me but they were also fast and furious as armies gathered and spies supposedly plotted everywhere. The cheers had gone now, drowned out by the feet of marching men, as recruits flocked through the city, heading north. They included men from the Customs Service and the Navy as well as some of the provincial police. All had come to fight for the Emperor and for France. I half thought of joining them myself, until Lefebvre talked me out of it.

  “With your leg?” Lefebvre laughed when I mentioned the subject.

  “It’s better than it was,” I protested, somewhat annoyed with him. “I can mange to do most things now. I almost won a few bouts of fencing before I left Grenoble.” Indeed the old wound had never been better since the day an artillery wagon ran over me and crushed my shin, a small lifetime ago.

  “It’s one thing to play around with swords when the other fellow isn’t trying to kill you; another thing on a battlefield, as you should remember. You still limp. What good would you be if you needed to move quickly over broken ground? You wouldn’t last two minutes in a real fight. I’m no soldier but even I know that. Don’t be a fool.”

  He was right, damn him! So I didn’t follow the eagles, even though my old regiment was one of those that marched through Paris. My former colonel still rode at the head of the column. I was glad he had survived, although his moustache was white now and he held his back stiffly as he sat on his horse. I only caught a glimpse of him by chance. He passed down the road in the direction of the huge camp which had been set up on the north side of the city. We had no time to talk and he did not even see me when I waved to him. I couldn’t leave it like that; our paths might never cross again. We had never met since the day he left me in a convent in Germany, clutching the letter to Fouché he had given me. Most senior officers would have dismissed me without a thought. No wonder I always liked and respected him. I also owed him my career.

  So I finished up my business quickly and, instead of going back to the bureau, I hired a horse and rode out to the camp. The regiment was camped on the furthest edge of the site and one of the men directed me to the colonel’s tent. He was writing at a small folding table when I entered. He looked up when he saw me and frowned. It seemed natural for me to salute him, so I did. He returned the salute with surprise, no doubt wondering who this civilian was. Then, suddenly, his brow cleared. He stood up and held out his hand.

  “Duval! I didn’t recognise you for a moment. You’ve changed.”

  “A long time since we’ve met, Sir.”

  “Don’t stand about, man, sit down, sit down.” The colonel turned to a small chest and took out a bottle of brandy and two fine glasses. My eyebrows rose. The old man had never bothered much about the luxuries or even the necessities of life when I served under him. He saw my face and smiled.

  “We’ve all changed, Duval, even me. Drink up. This may be the last bottle of brandy I ever down, so I’m going to enjoy it. Drinking with a friend, met unexpectedly, is even better.”

  I did as he ordered and the fineness of the spirit struck me immediately and almost took my breath away.

  “Good stuff,” the colonel said, pouring us both another one and then corking the bottle, as if to put away temptation. “Have to save the rest. Likely to need it.” He put the bottle back into his chest. “What have you been doing with yourself since I left you in Germany?”

  “I joined the Police. You remember you gave me a letter for your cousin, Fouché? He hired me and I have been employed there ever since, until this spring. I left and returned to Grenoble, where I was born. I was there when the Emperor arrived in the town.”

  “You were, were you? So you saw him arrive and all the fanfare that surrounded him? And now you’re here. Have you come to join us?”

  “My leg’s still not right, Sir, although I’m much better than I was. I couldn’t keep up with you on a march. I thought about it, but a friend told me I was mad and that I might hinder you.”

  “Pity. You were a good soldier and an intelligent aide at a time when we had the best troops in the world. This present lot are the sweepings up. Half of them have never seen a battle and the other half are untrained. We’re an army of schoolboys and grandfathers.” He sighed.

  “What do you think our chances of winning are, Sir?”

  “Difficult to say. Few of the foreign regiments who used to join us have appeared. They often bore the brunt of the fight, whatever the Moniteur said. We took the credit, but they did the dirty work, so we lived to fight again another day. Fine fellows, the Saxons and the Dutch. This army’s poor stuff, except for the veterans, but the Emperor’s won battles against greater odds before. He’s a genius and he might be lucky, but if I were a betting man I wouldn’t wager too much on his chances. Don’t tell anyone you heard me say so though. I’ll deny it if you do.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Sir, and my thoughts match your own. Why do you stay, if you think we could be beaten? Surely you’re old enough to retire and wait out this campaign?”

  He laughed. “You were never tactful, Duval. In that you haven’t changed. I’m an old warhorse, snorting at the sound of the guns. My wife begged me not to go, but I couldn’t keep away and the men still wanted me to lead them. So here I am, back again and ready for what might be my last battle. The regiment is setting off in the morning. Do you want to come with us, gammy leg and all?”

  I stood up. Pictures of Eugénie and the children filled my mind. Other pictures too – pictures of batt
lefields heaped with the bodies of men and horses.

  “Let me think about it, Sir. I’ve returned to the Police since the Emperor came back. I would have to tell them and clear up my affairs before I could join you.”

  “Don’t take too long. Our enemies are marching and this battle won’t be long delayed, or I’m no judge of these things. The Emperor wants to win this campaign and get back to governing the country, once he’s secure on his throne. He won’t waste time and neither will the English or the Prussians. We could horse you, if you decide to join us. You can even have your old job back, running my errands.”

  I laughed. “You tempt me, Sir. If I come, I’ll join you somewhere on the march. In any event, I’m happy to have seen you again.”

  “Me too, boy.” He patted my shoulder. “Glad to have you if you come. No hard feelings if you don’t.”

  “It’s more likely to be ‘can’t’ rather than ‘don’t’, Sir. I’ll think about it and I’ll try, I promise you that. Good luck for the future.”

  “God bless you, Alain.”

  I rode away, back to the bureau, with my mind in a whirl. On the one hand, I had fond memories of the old man and of my comrades. On the other hand, I was sixteen years older than I had been, wounded, married and a father. If anything happened to me, I was confident that Eugénie and the children would be all right. Emile had promised me that. My work for the Police was trivial and useless at the moment. If I wanted to help the Emperor, perhaps it would be better to join the colonel and fight for him. Did I want to help him? I disagreed with him over many things, but the Bourbons were unfit to rule my country. If I did fight, I would be fighting to keep our enemies away from the soil of France. I found myself humming the tune I had once marched to as a youth,

  Allons enfants de la Patrie,

  Le jour de gloire est arrivé!

  Contre nous de la tyrannie,

  L’étandand sanglant est levé.

  Napoleon had played the Marseillaise so incessantly, most people ceased to think about the words, which had once carried us forward to victory. Now they came back to me. The armies of France would again be marching against tyranny. The bloody standard had to be raised, but whether the day would be glorious or not remained to be seen.