Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume II

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XI. A SALLE DE POLICE

  When I entered the breakfast-room the following morning, I foundDuchesne stretched before the fire in an easy-chair, busily engagedin reading the "Moniteur" of that day, where a long list of imperial_ordonnances_ filled nearly three columns.

  "Here have I been," said he, "conning over this catalogue of princelyfavor these twenty minutes, and yet cannot discern one word of ourwell-beloved cousins Captains Burke and Duchesne. And yet there seems tobe a hailstorm of promotions. Some of them have got grand duchies; someprincipalities; some have the cross of the Legion; and here, byJove! are some endowed with wives. Now that his Majesty has taken tochristening and marrying, I suppose we shall soon see him administeringall the succors of Holy Church. Have you much interest in hearingthat Talleyrand is to be called Prince of Benevente, and Murat is nowGrand-Duke of Berg,--that Sebastiani is to be married to Mademoiselle deCoigny, and Monsieur Decazes, _fils de_ M. Decazes, has taken some oneelse to wife? Oh dear, oh dear! It's all very tiresome, and not even thefete of Saint Napoleon--"

  "Of whom?" said I, laughing.

  "Saint Napoleon, _parbleu!_ It's no joking matter, I assure you. Hereis the letter of the cardinal legate to the arch-bishops and bishopsof France, commanding that the first Sunday in the August of each yearshould be set apart to celebrate his saintship, with an account of theprocessions to take place, and various plenary indulgences to the piouswho shall present themselves on the occasion. Fouche could tell you thenames of some people who bled freely to get rid of all this trumpery;and, in good sooth, it's rather hard, if we could not endure SaintLouis, to be obliged to tolerate Saint Napoleon,--saints, like Bordeauxwine, being all the more palatable when they have age to mellow them. Icould forgive anything, however, but this system of forced marriages;it smacks too much of old Frederick for my taste. And one cannot alwayshave the luck of your friend General d'Auvergne."

  I felt my cheek grow burning hot at the words. Duchesne did not noticemy confusion, but continued,--

  "And yet, of all the ill-assorted unions for which his sainted Majestywill have to account hereafter, that was unquestionably the mostextraordinary."

  "But I have heard, and I believe too, that the marriage was not of theEmperor's making; it was purely a matter of liking."

  "Come, come, Burke," said he, laughing, "you will not tell me that thehandsomest girl at the Court, with a large dowry, an ancient name, andevery advantage of position, marries an old weather-beaten soldier--thesenior officer of her own father once--of her own free will and choice.The thing is absurd. No, no; these are the Imperial recompenses, whengrand duchies are scarce and confiscations few. The Emperor does nottravel for nothing. He brought back with him from Egypt somethingbesides his Mameluke Guard: that clever trick the pachas have ofproviding a favorite with an ex-sultana. There, there! don't look soangrily. We shall both be marshals of France one of these days, and thatmay reconcile one to a great deal."

  "You are determined to owe nothing of your promotion to a blind devotionto Napoleon,--that's certain," said I, annoyed at the tone of insolentdisparagement in which he spoke.

  "You are right,--perfectly right there," replied he, in a quiet tone ofvoice. "No man would rather hug himself up in an illusion, if he couldbut make it minister to his pleasure or his enjoyment; but when it doesneither,--when the material is so flimsy as to be seen through at everyminute,--I throw it from me as a worthless garment, unfit to wear."

  "Can you, then, deem Napoleon's glory such?"

  "Of course, to me it is. How am I a sharer in his triumphs, save as thecharger that marches in the cavalcade? You don't perceive that I, as thedescendant of an old Loyalist family, would have fared far better withthe Bourbons, from reasons of blood and kindred; and a hundred timesbetter with the Jacobins, from very recklessness."

  "How then came it--"

  "I will spare you the question. I liked neither emigration nor theguillotine, and preferred the slow suffering of ennui to the quick deathof the scaffold. There has been but one career in France for many a daypast. I adopted it as much from necessity as choice; I followed it morefrom habit than either."

  "But you cannot be insensible to the greatness of your country, nor hersuccess in arms."

  "Nor am I; but these things are a small ingredient in patriotism. You,the stranger, share with us all our triumphs in the field. But theinherent features of a nation,--the distinctive traits of which everyson of the soil feels proud,--where are they now? What is France to memore than to you? One half my kindred are exiled; of those who remain,many regard me as a renegade. Their properties confiscated, themselvessuspected, what tie binds them to this country? You are not more analien here than I am."

  "And yet, Duchesne, you shed your blood freely for this same cause youcondemn. You charged the Pratzen, some days ago, with four squadrons,against a whole column of Russian cavalry."

  "Ay, and would again to-morrow, boy. Had you been a gambler, I need n'thave told you that it is the game, not the stake, that interests thereal gamester. But come, do not fancy I want to make you a convert tothese tiresome theories of mine. What say you to the pretty MademoisellePauline? Did you admire her much?"

  "She is unquestionably very handsome; but, if I must confess it, hermanner towards me was too ungracious to make me loud in her praise."

  "I like that, I vow," said Duchesne; "that saucy air has anindescribable charm for me. I don't know if it is not the very thingwhich pleases me most about her. She has been spoiled by flattery andadmiration; for her beauty and her fortune are prizes in the greatwheel. And that she is aware of the fact is nothing wonderful,considering that she hears it repeated every evening of her life, byevery-rank in the service, from a marshal of France down to--a captainin the _chasseurs a cheval_," said he, laughing.

  "Who, probably, was one of the last to tell her so," said I, looking athim slyly.

  "What have we here?" said he, suddenly, without paying any attention tomy remark, as he again took up the "Moniteur." "'It is rumored that theRussian Prince, Drobretski, was dangerously wounded this morning in anaffair of honor. The names of the other party and the seconds arestill unknown; but the efforts of the police, stimulated by the expresscommand of the Emperor, will, it is to be hoped, succeed in discoveringthem ere long.'"

  "Is not that the name of your Russian friend of last night, Duchesne?"

  "Yes. And the same person, too, formerly Russian minister at Madrid, andlatterly residing on his parole at Paris," continued he, reading fromthe paper. "'The very decided part his Majesty has taken against thepractice of duelling is strengthened on this occasion by a recent orderof council respecting the prisoners on parole.' _Diable!_ Burke, whata scrupulous turn Napoleon seems to have taken in regard to theseCossacks! And here follows a long list of witnesses who have seennothing, and suspicious circumstances that occur every morning in theweek without remark. After all, I don't think the Empire has advancedus much on the score of police,--the same threadbare jests, the sameold practical jokes, amused the _bourgeoisie_ in the time of Louis theFourteenth."

  "I don't clearly understand your meaning."

  "It is simply this,--that every Government of France, from Pepindownwards, has understood the value of throwing public interest, fromtime to time, on a false scent, and to this end has maintained a police.Now, if for any cause his Majesty thought proper to incarcerate thatRussian prince in the Temple or La Force, the affair would cause atremendous sensation in Paris, and soon would ring over the whole ofGermany and the rest of Europe, with every variation of despotism,tyranny, and all that, attached to it, long before any advantages to bederived from the step could be realized. Whereas see the effect of anopposite policy. By this report of a duel, for instance,--I don'tmean to assert it false, here,--the whole object is attained, andan admirable subject of Imperial praise obtained into the bargain.Governments have learned wisdom from the cuttlefish, and can muddythe water on their enemies at the moment of danger. I should not besurprised if the affairs of the Bank
looked badly this morning."

  "It is evident, then, you disbelieve the whole statement about theduel."

  "My dear friend," said he, smiling, "who is there in all Paris, fromMontmartre to St. Denis, believes, or disbelieves, any one thing in thetimes we live in? Have we not trusted so implicitly for years past tothe light of our reason that we have actually injured our eyesight withils brilliancy. Little reproach, indeed, to our minds, when our verysenses seem to mislead us; when one sees the people who enter theTuileries now with embroidered coats, who in our father's days nevercame nearer to it than the Place de Carrousel. _Helas!_ it's no time forincredulity, that's certain. But to conclude," said he, turning to thepaper once more: "'The _commissaires de police_ throughout Paris havereceived orders to spare no effort to unravel the mystery and detect theother parties in this unhappy affair.' Military tribunal; prisonerson parole; rights of hospitality; honor of France; and the oldperoration,--the usual compliment on the wisdom which presides overevery department of state. How weary I do become of all this! Let yourbarber puff his dye for the whiskers, or your bootmaker the incomparableeffulgence of his blacking,--the thing is in keeping, no one objects toit. I don't find fault with my old friend, Pigault Lebrun, if he now andthen plays the critic on himself, and shows the world the beauties theyneglectfully slurred over. But, Burke, have you ever seen a _bureau depolice?_"

  "Never; and I have the greatest curiosity to do so."

  "Come, then, I 'll be your guide. The _commissaire_ of this quarterhas a very extended jurisdiction, stretching away towards the Bois deBoulogne, and if there be anything in this report, he is certain toknow it; and assuredly, no other topic will be talked of till to-morrowevening, for it's not Opera night, and Talma does not play either."

  I willingly accepted this proposition; and when our breakfast was over,we mounted our horses, and set out for the place in question.

  "If the forms of justice where we are now going," said Duchesne,"be divested of much of their pomp and ceremony, be assured of onething,--it is not at the expense of the more material essence. Of allthe police tribunals about Paris, this obscure den in the Bue de DixSous is the most effective. Situated in a quarter where crime is asrife as fever in the Pontine Marshes, it has become acquainted withthe haunts and habits of the lowest class in Paris,--the lowest class,probably, in any city of Europe. Watching with parental solicitude,it tracks the criminal from his first step in vice to his last deed incrime; from his petty theft to his murder. Knowing the necessities towhich poverty impels men, and studying with attention the impulsesthat grow up amid despair and hunger, it sees motives through a mist ofintervening circumstances that would baffle less subtle observers, andcan trace the tortuous windings of crime where no other sight couldfind the clew. Is it not strange to think with what ingenuity men willinvestigate the minute anatomy of vice, and how little they will do toapply this knowledge to its remedy? Like the surgeon, enamored ofhis operating skill, he would rather exhibit his dexterity in theamputation, than his science in the saving, of the limb. Such is thebureau of the police in the poorer quarters. In the more fashionableones it takes a higher flight; amusing the world with its scenes,alternately humorous and pathetic, it forms a kind of feature in theliterature of the period, and is the only reading of thousands. In theseplaces the _commissaire_ is usually a _bon vivant_ and a wit; despisingthe miserable function of administering the law, he takes his seat uponthe bench to cap jokes with the witnesses, puzzle the complainant,and embarrass the prisoner. To the reporters alone is he civil; and inreturn, his poor witticisms appear in the morning papers, with the usual'loud laughter' that never existed save in type."

  As we thus chatted, we entered a quarter of dirty and narrow streets,inhabited by a poor-looking, squalid population. The women, with littleto mark their sex in their coarse, heavy countenances, wore coloredkerchiefs on their heads in lieu of a cap, and were for the most partwithout shoes or stockings. The men, a brutalized, stupid race, satsmoking in the doorways, scarcely lifting their eyes as we passed; orsome were eating a coarse morsel of black rye bread, which, by theireagerness in devouring it, seemed an unusual delicacy.

  "You scarcely believed there was such poverty in Paris," said he; "butthis is by no means the worst of the quarter. Though M. de Champagny, inhis late report, makes no mention of these 'signs of prosperity,' we arenow entering the region where, even in noonday, the passage is deemedperilous; but the number of police agents on duty to-day will make thejourney a safe one."

  The street we entered at the moment consisted of a mass of tall houses,almost falling from decay and neglect,--scarcely a window remained inmany of them; while in front, a row of miserable booths, formed of rudeplanks, narrowed the passage to a mere path, scarce wide enough forthree people abreast. There, vice of every description, and drunkenness,waited not for the dark hours to shroud them, but came forth in thesunlight,--the ruffian shouts of intoxication mingling with the almostmaniacal laugh of misery or the reckless chorus of some degrading song.Half-naked wretches leaned from the windows as we passed along,--somestaring in stupid wonderment at our appearance; others saluting us withmockery and grimace, or even calling out to us in the slang dialect ofthe place.

  "Yes," said Duchesne, as he saw the expression of horror and disgustthe scene impressed on me, "here are the rotting seeds of revolutionsputrefying, to germinate at some future day. Starvation and vice,misery, even to despair, inhabit every den around you. The furiousand bloodthirsty wretch of '92, the Chouan, the Jacobite, the escapedgalley-slave, the untaken murderer, are here side by side,--crime theirgreat bond of union. To this place men come for an assassin or a falsewitness, as to a market. Such are the wrecks the retiring waves of aRevolution have left us. So long as the trade of blood lasted, openly,like vultures, they fattened on it; but once the reign of orderrestored, they were driven to murder and outrage as a livelihood."

  While he was speaking, we approached a narrow arched passage, withinwhich a flight of stone steps arose. "We dismount here," said he.

  At the same moment a group of ragged creatures, of every age, surroundedus to hold our horses, not noticing the orderly who rode at somedistance behind us. I followed Duchesne up the steps, and along a gloomycorridor, to a little courtyard, where several dismounted gendarmeswere standing in a circle, chatting. Passing through this, we entered adirty, mean-looking house, around the door of which several people werecollected, some of whom saluted the chevalier as he came up.

  "Who are these fellows?" said I. "They seem to know you."

  "Oh! nothing but the common police spies," said he, carelessly; "thefellows who lounge about the cabarets and the low gambling-houses. Buthere comes one of higher mark."

  As he spoke, he laid his hand on the arm of a tall, powerful-lookingman, in a blouse; he wore immense whiskers, and a great beard,descending far below his chin. "Ah! Bocquin, what have we got goingforward to-day? I came to show a young friend here the interior of your_salle_."

  "Monsieur le Capitaine, your most obedient," said the man, in a deepvoice, as he removed his casquette, and bowed ceremoniously to us; "andyours also, Monsieur," added he, turning to me. "Why, there is nothingto speak of, save that duel, Capitaine."

  "Come, come, Bocquin; no nonsense with me. What was that story got upfor?"

  "Ah! you mistake there," said Bocquin. "By Jove! there's a man badlywounded, shot through the neck, and no one to tell a word about it. Noseconds present, the thing done quite privately; the wounded man left athis own door, and the other off,--Heaven knows where."

  "And you believe this tale, Bocquin?" said Duchesne, superciliously.

  "Believe it!--that I do. I have been to see the place where the man lay;and by tracking the wheel marks, I have discovered they came from theChamps Elysees. The cabriolet, too, was a private one; no _fiacre_ hasgot so narrow a tire to the wheel."

  "Closely followed up,--eh, Burke?" said the chevalier, turning towardsme with a smile of admiration at his sagacity. "Go on, Bocquin."

  "W
ell, I followed the scent to the Barriere de l'Etoile, where I learnedthat one cabriolet passed towards the Bois de Boulogne, and returned inabout half an hour. As the pace was a sharp one, I guessed they couldnot have gone far, and so I turned into the wood at the first road tothe right, where there is least recourse of people; and, by Jove! I wasall correct. There, in a small open space between the trees, I saw themarks of recent footsteps, and a little farther on found the grass allcovered with blood."

  "Monsieur Bocquin! Monsieur Bocquin! the _commissaire_ wants you," crieda voice from the landing of the stair; and with an apology for leavingthus suddenly, he turned away.

  We followed, however, curious to hear the remainder of this singularhistory; and, after some difficulty, succeeded in gaining admittance toa small room, now densely crowded with people, the most of whom wereof the very lowest class. The _commissaire_ speedily made place forus beside him on the bench; for, like every one else in a conspicuousposition, he also was an acquaintance of Duchesne.

  While the _commissaire_ conversed with Bocquin in a low tone, we hadtime to observe the _salle_ and its occupants. Except the witnesses,two or three of whom were respectable persons, they were thesqualid-looking, ragged wretches of the quarter, listening with thegreedy appetite of crime to any tale of bloodshed. The surgeon, who hadjust returned from visiting the wounded man, was waiting to be examined.To him now the _commissaire_ directed his attention. It appeared thatthe wound was by no means of the dangerous character described, beingmerely through the fleshy portion of the neck, without injuring anypart of importance. Having described circumstantially the extent ofthe injury and its probable cause, he replied to a question of the_commissaire_, that no entreaty could persuade the wounded man togive any explanation of the occurrence, nor mention the name of hisadversary. Duchesne paid little apparent attention to the evidence, andbefore it was concluded, asked me if I were satisfied with my policeexperience, and disposed to move away.

  Just at this moment there was a stir among the people round the door,and we heard the officers of the court cry out, "Room! make waythere!" and the same moment General Duroc entered, accompanied by anaide-de-camp. He had been sent specially by the Emperor to ascertainwhat progress the investigation had made. His Majesty had determined topush the inquiry to its utmost limits. The general appeared dissatisfiedwith the little prospect there appeared of elucidation; and turning toDuchesne, remarked,--

  "This is peculiarly ill-timed just now, as negotiations are pending withRussia, and the prince's family are about the person of the Czar."

  "But as the wound would seem of little consequence, in a few daysperhaps the whole thing may blow over," said Duchesne.

  "It is for that very reason," replied Duroc, earnestly, "that we arepressed for time. The object is to mark the sentiments of his Majesty_now_. Should the prince be once pronounced out of danger, it will betoo late for sympathy."

  "Oh! I perceive," said Duchesne, smiling; "your observation is mostjust. If my friend here, however, cannot put you on the track, I fearyou have little to hope for elsewhere."

  "I am aware of that; and Monsieur Cauchois knows the great reliance hisMajesty reposes in his skill and activity."

  Monsieur Cauchois, the _commissaire_, bowed with a most respectful airat the compliment, probably of all others the highest that could be paidhim.

  "A brilliant soiree we had last evening, Duchesne," said the general. "Ihope this unhappy affair will not close that house at present; you areaware the prince is the suitor of mademoiselle?"

  "I only suspected as much," said the chevalier, with a peculiar smile;"it was my first evening there."

  As General Duroc addressed a few words in a low tone to the_commissaire_, the man called Bocquin approached the bench, and handedup a small slip of paper to Duchesne. The chevalier opened it, andhaving thrown his eyes over it, passed it into my hand. All I could seewere two words, written coarsely with the pencil,--"How much?"

  The chevalier turned the back of the paper, and wrote, "Fiftynapoleons."

  On reading which the large man tore the scrap, and nodding slightlywith his head, sauntered from the room. We rose a few moments after,and having taken a formal leave of the general and the _commissaire_,proceeded towards the street, where we had left our horses. As we passedalong the corridor, however, we found Bocquin awaiting us. He openeda door into a small, mean-looking apartment, of which he appeared theowner. Having ushered us in, and cautiously closed it behind him, hedrew from his pocket a piece of cloth, to which a button and a piece ofgold embroidery were attached.

  "Your jacket would be spoiled without this morsel, Captain," said he,laughing, in a low, dry laugh.

  "So it would, Bocquin," said Duchesne, examining his coat, which I nowperceived was torn on the shoulder, and a small piece--the exact one inhis hand--wanting, but which had escaped my attention from the mass ofgold lace and embroidery with which it was covered.

  "Do you know, Bocquin," said Duchesne, in a tone much graver than he hadused before, "I never noticed that?"

  "_Parbleu!_ I believe you," said he, laughing; "nor did I, till you saton the bench, when I was so pleased with your coolness, I could not forthe life of me interrupt you."

  "Have you got any money, Burke?" said the chevalier; "some twenty goldpieces--"

  "No, no, Captain," said Bocquin, "not now; another time. I must callupon you one of these mornings about another affair, and it will be timeenough then."

  "As you please, Bocquin," said the chevalier, putting up his purseagain; "and so, till we meet."

  "Till we meet, gentlemen," replied the other, as he bowed usrespectfully to the door.

  "You seem to have but a very faint comprehension of all this, Burke,"said Duchesne, as he took my arm; "you look confoundedly puzzled, I mustsay."

  "If I didn't, I should be an admirable actor, that's all," said I.

  "Why, I think the thing is plain enough, in all conscience; Bocquinfound that piece of my jacket on the ground, and, of course, the affairwas in his hands."

  "Why, do you mean to say--"

  "That I shot Monsieur le Prince this morning, at a quarter past seveno'clock, and felt devilish uncomfortable about it till the last tenminutes, my boy. If I did not confide the matter to you before, itwas because that until all chance of detection was passed, I could notexpose you to the risk of an examination before the _prefet de police_.Happily, now these dangers are all over. Bocquin is too clever a fellownot to throw all the other spies on a wrong scent, so that we need haveno fear of the result."

  I could scarcely credit the evidence of my senses at the coolness andduplicity of the chevalier throughout an affair of such imminentrisk, nor was I less astonished at the account he gave of the wholeproceeding.

  One word, on leaving the soiree, had decided there should be a meetingthe following day; and as the Russian well knew the danger of hisadventure, from the law which was recently passed regarding prisonerson parole, he proposed they should meet without seconds on either side.Duchesne acceded; and it was arranged that the chevalier should drivealong the Bue de Rivoli at seven the next morning, where the Russianwould join him, and they should drive together to the Bois de Boulogne.

  "To do my Cossack justice," said Duchesne, "he behaved admirablythroughout the whole affair; and on taking his place beside me in thecab, entered into conversation freely and easily on the topics ofthe day. We chatted of the campaign; of the cavalry; of the Russianservice,--their size and equipment, only needing a higher organizationto make them first-rate troops. We spoke of the Emperor Alexander, ofwhom he was evidently proud, and much pleased to hear the favorableopinion Napoleon entertained of his ability and capacity; and it was inthe middle of an anecdote about Savary and the Czar we arrived at theBois de Boulogne.

  "I need not tell you the details of the affair, save that we loadedour own pistols, and stepped the ground ourselves. They were like otherthings of the same sort,--the first shot concluded the matter. I aimedat his shoulder, but the pistol threw high. As t
o his bullet, it wasonly awhile ago I knew it went so near me. It was nervous work passingthe _barriere_; for had he not made an effort to sit up straight in thecab, the sentry might have detained and examined us. All that you heardabout his being left at his own door, covered with blood and fainting, Ineed not tell you has no truth. I never left the spot till the door wasopened, and I saw him in the hands of a servant. Of course I concealedmy face, and then drove off at full speed."

  By this time we arrived at the Luxembourg, and Duchesne, with all thecoolness in the world, joined a knot of persons engaged in discussingthe duel, and endeavoring, by sundry clever and ingenious explanations,to account for the circumstance.

  As I sauntered along to my quarters, I pondered over the adventure andthe character of the chevalier; and however I might turn the matter inmy mind, one thought was ever uppermost,--a sincere wish that I had notbeen made his confidant in the secret.