Chapter 86
"You are right,--perfectly right there," replied he, in a quiet tone of voice. "No man would rather hug himself up in an illusion, if he could but make it minister to his pleasure or his enjoyment; but when it does neither,--when the material is so flimsy as to be seen through at every minute,--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 the charger that marches in the cavalcade? You don't perceive that I, as the descendant of an old Loyalist family, would have fared far better with the Bourbons, from reasons of blood and kindred; and a hundred times better with the Jacobins, from very recklessness."
"How then came it--"
"I will spare you the question. I liked neither emigration nor the guillotine, and preferred the slow suffering of ennui to the quick death of the scaffold. There has been but one career in France for many a day past. I adopted it as much from necessity as choice; I followed it more from habit than either."
"But you cannot be insensible to the greatness of your country, nor her success 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 the inherent features of a nation,--the distinctive traits of which every son of the soil feels proud,--where are they now? What is France to me more than to you? One half my kindred are exiled; of those who remain, many regard me as a renegade. Their properties confiscated, themselves suspected, what tie binds them to this country? You are not more an alien here than I am."
"And yet, d.u.c.h.esne, you shed your blood freely for this same cause you condemn. 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't have told you that it is the game, not the stake, that interests the real gamester. But come, do not fancy I want to make you a convert to these tiresome theories of mine. What say you to the pretty Mademoiselle Pauline? Did you admire her much?"
"She is unquestionably very handsome; but, if I must confess it, her manner towards me was too ungracious to make me loud in her praise."
"I like that, I vow," said d.u.c.h.esne; "that saucy air has an indescribable charm for me. I don't know if it is not the very thing which pleases me most about her. She has been spoiled by flattery and admiration; for her beauty and her fortune are prizes in the great wheel. And that she is aware of the fact is nothing wonderful, considering that she hears it repeated every evening of her life, by every-rank in the service, from a marshal of France down to--a captain in the _cha.s.seurs a cheval_," said he, laughing.
"Who, probably, was one of the last to tell her so," said I, looking at him slyly.
"What have we here?" said he, suddenly, without paying any attention to my remark, as he again took up the "Moniteur." "'It is rumored that the Russian Prince, Drobretski, was dangerously wounded this morning in an affair of honor. The names of the other party and the seconds are still unknown; but the efforts of the police, stimulated by the express command of the Emperor, will, it is to be hoped, succeed in discovering them ere long.'"
"Is not that the name of your Russian friend of last night, d.u.c.h.esne?"
"Yes. And the same person, too, formerly Russian minister at Madrid, and latterly residing on his parole at Paris," continued he, reading from the paper. "'The very decided part his Majesty has taken against the practice of duelling is strengthened on this occasion by a recent order of council respecting the prisoners on parole.' _Diable!_ Burke, what a scrupulous turn Napoleon seems to have taken in regard to these Cossacks! And here follows a long list of witnesses who have seen nothing, and suspicious circ.u.mstances that occur every morning in the week without remark. After all, I don't think the Empire has advanced us much on the score of police,--the same threadbare jests, the same old practical jokes, amused the _bourgeoisie_ in the time of Louis the Fourteenth."
"I don't clearly understand your meaning."
"It is simply this,--that every Government of France, from Pepin downwards, has understood the value of throwing public interest, from time 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 that Russian prince in the Temple or La Force, the affair would cause a tremendous sensation in Paris, and soon would ring over the whole of Germany and the rest of Europe, with every variation of despotism, tyranny, and all that, attached to it, long before any advantages to be derived from the step could be realized. Whereas see the effect of an opposite policy. By this report of a duel, for instance,--I don't mean to a.s.sert it false, here,--the whole object is attained, and an admirable subject of Imperial praise obtained into the bargain.
Governments have learned wisdom from the cuttlefish, and can muddy the water on their enemies at the moment of danger. I should not be surprised if the affairs of the Bank looked badly this morning."
"It is evident, then, you disbelieve the whole statement about the duel."
"My dear friend," said he, smiling, "who is there in all Paris, from Montmartre to St. Denis, believes, or disbelieves, any one thing in the times we live in? Have we not trusted so implicitly for years past to the light of our reason that we have actually injured our eyesight with ils brilliancy. Little reproach, indeed, to our minds, when our very senses seem to mislead us; when one sees the people who enter the Tuileries now with embroidered coats, who in our father's days never came nearer to it than the Place de Carrousel. _Helas!_ it's no time for incredulity, that's certain. But to conclude," said he, turning to the paper once more: "'The _commissaires de police_ throughout Paris have received orders to spare no effort to unravel the mystery and detect the other parties in this unhappy affair.' Military tribunal; prisoners on parole; rights of hospitality; honor of France; and the old peroration,--the usual compliment on the wisdom which presides over every department
"Never; and I have the greatest curiosity to do so."
"Come, then, I 'll be your guide. The _commissaire_ of this quarter has a very extended jurisdiction, stretching away towards the Bois de Boulogne, and if there be anything in this report, he is certain to know it; and a.s.suredly, no other topic will be talked of till to-morrow evening, 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 d.u.c.h.esne, "be divested of much of their pomp and ceremony, be a.s.sured of one thing,--it is not at the expense of the more material essence. Of all the police tribunals about Paris, this obscure den in the Bue de Dix Sous is the most effective. Situated in a quarter where crime is as rife as fever in the Pontine Marshes, it has become acquainted with the haunts and habits of the lowest cla.s.s in Paris,--the lowest cla.s.s, probably, in any city of Europe. Watching with parental solicitude, it tracks the criminal from his first step in vice to his last deed in crime; from his petty theft to his murder. Knowing the necessities to which poverty impels men, and studying with attention the impulses that grow up amid despair and hunger, it sees motives through a mist of intervening circ.u.mstances that would baffle less subtle observers, and can trace the tortuous windings of crime where no other sight could find the clew. Is it not strange to think with what ingenuity men will investigate the minute anatomy of vice, and how little they will do to apply this knowledge to its remedy? Like the surgeon, enamored of his operating skill, he would rather exhibit his dexterity in the amputation, than his science in the saving, of the limb. Such is the bureau of the police in the poorer quarters. In the more fas.h.i.+onable ones it takes a higher flight; amusing the world with its scenes, alternately humorous and pathetic, it forms a kind of feature in the literature of the period, and is the only reading of thousands. In these places the _commissaire_ is usually a _bon vivant_ and a wit; despising the miserable function of administering the law, he takes his seat upon the bench to cap jokes with the witnesses, puzzle the complainant, and embarra.s.s the prisoner. To the reporters alone is he civil; and in return, 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 little to mark their s.e.x in their coa.r.s.e, heavy countenances, wore colored kerchiefs on their heads in lieu of a cap, and were for the most part without shoes or stockings. The men, a brutalized, stupid race, sat smoking in the doorways, scarcely lifting their eyes as we pa.s.sed; or some were eating a coa.r.s.e morsel of black rye bread, which, by their eagerness in devouring it, seemed an unusual delicacy.
"You scarcely believed there was such poverty in Paris," said he; "but this is by no means the worst of the quarter. Though M. de Champagny, in his late report, makes no mention of these 'signs of prosperity,' we are now entering the region where, even in noonday, the pa.s.sage is deemed perilous; but the number of police agents on duty to-day will make the journey a safe one."
The street we entered at the moment consisted of a ma.s.s of tall houses, almost falling from decay and neglect,--scarcely a window remained in many of them; while in front, a row of miserable booths, formed of rude planks, narrowed the pa.s.sage to a mere path, scarce wide enough for three people abreast. There, vice of every description, and drunkenness, waited not for the dark hours to shroud them, but came forth in the sunlight,--the ruffian shouts of intoxication mingling with the almost maniacal laugh of misery or the reckless chorus of some degrading song.
Half-naked wretches leaned from the windows as we pa.s.sed along,--some staring in stupid wonderment at our appearance; others saluting us with mockery and grimace, or even calling out to us in the slang dialect of the place.
"Yes," said d.u.c.h.esne, as he saw the expression of horror and disgust the scene impressed on me, "here are the rotting seeds of revolutions putrefying, to germinate at some future day. Starvation and vice, misery, even to despair, inhabit every den around you. The furious and bloodthirsty wretch of '92, the Chouan, the Jacobite, the escaped galley-slave, the untaken murderer, are here side by side,--crime their great bond of union. To this place men come for an a.s.sa.s.sin or a false witness, as to a market. Such are the wrecks the retiring waves of a Revolution have left us. So long as the trade of blood lasted, openly, like vultures, they fattened on it; but once the reign of order restored, they were driven to murder and outrage as a livelihood."
While he was speaking, we approached a narrow arched pa.s.sage, within which a flight of stone steps arose. "We dismount here," said he.
At the same moment a group of ragged creatures, of every age, surrounded us to hold our horses, not noticing the orderly who rode at some distance behind us. I followed d.u.c.h.esne up the steps, and along a gloomy corridor, to a little courtyard, where several dismounted gendarmes were standing in a circle, chatting. Pa.s.sing through this, we entered a dirty, mean-looking house, around the door of which several people were collected, 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; "the fellows who lounge about the cabarets and the low gambling-houses. But here comes one of higher mark."
As he spoke, he laid his hand on the arm of a tall, powerful-looking man, in a blouse; he wore immense whiskers, and a great beard, descending far below his chin. "Ah! Bocquin, what have we got going forward 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 deep voice, as he removed his casquette, and bowed ceremoniously to us; "and yours also, Monsieur," added he, turning to me. "Why, there is nothing to speak of, save that duel, Capitaine."
"Come, come, Bocquin; no nonsense with me. What was that story got up for?"
"Ah! you mistake there," said Bocquin. "By Jove! there's a man badly wounded, shot through the neck, and no one to tell a word about it. No seconds present, the thing done quite privately; the wounded man left at his own door, and the other off,--Heaven knows where."
"And you believe this tale, Bocquin?" said d.u.c.h.esne, 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 the Champs elysees. The cabriolet, too, was a private one; no _fiacre_ has got so narrow a tire to the wheel."
"Closely followed up,--eh, Burke?" said the chevalier, turning towards me with a smile of admiration at his sagacity. "Go on, Bocquin."
"Well, I followed the scent to the Barriere de l'etoile, where I learned that one cabriolet pa.s.sed towards the Bois de Boulogne, and returned in about half an hour. As the pace was a sharp one, I guessed they could not have gone far, and so I turned into the wood at the first road to the right, where there is least recourse of people; and, by Jove! I was all correct. There, in a small open s.p.a.ce between the trees, I saw the marks of recent footsteps, and a little farther on found the gra.s.s all covered with blood."
"Monsieur Bocquin! Monsieur Bocquin! the _commissaire_ wants you," cried a voice from the landing of the stair; and with an apology for leaving thus suddenly, he turned away.
We followed, however, curious to hear the remainder of this singular history; and, after some difficulty, succeeded in gaining admittance to a small room, now densely crowded with people, the most of whom were of the very lowest cla.s.s. The _commissaire_ speedily made place for us beside him on the bench; for, like every one else in a conspicuous position, he also was an acquaintance of d.u.c.h.esne.
While the _commissaire_ conversed with Bocquin in a low tone, we had time to observe the _salle_ and its occupants. Except the witnesses, two or three of whom were respectable persons, they were the squalid-looking, ragged wretches of the quarter, listening with the greedy appet.i.te of crime to any tale of bloodshed. The surgeon, who had just returned from visiting the wounded man, was waiting to be examined.
To him now the _commissaire_ directed his attention. It appeared that the wound was by no means of the dangerous character described, being merely through the fleshy portion of the neck, without injuring any part of importance. Having described circ.u.mstantially the extent of the injury and its probable cause, he replied to a question of the _commissaire_, that no entreaty could persuade the wounded man to give any explanation of the occurrence, nor mention the name of his adversary. d.u.c.h.esne paid little apparent attention to the evidence, and before it was concluded, asked me if I were satisfied with my police experience, 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 way there!" and the same moment General Duroc entered, accompanied by an aide-de-camp. He had been sent specially by the Emperor to ascertain what progress the investigation had made. His Majesty had determined to push the inquiry to its utmost limits. The general appeared dissatisfied with the little prospect there appeared of elucidation; and turning to d.u.c.h.esne, remarked,--
"This is peculiarly ill-timed just now, as negotiations are pending with Russia, and the prince's family are about the person of the Czar."
"But as the wound would seem of little consequence, in a few days perhaps the whole thing may blow over," said d.u.c.h.esne.
"It is for that very reason," replied Duroc, earnestly, "that we are pressed for time. The object is to mark the sentiments of his Majesty _now_. Should the prince be once p.r.o.nounced out of danger, it will be too late for sympathy."
"Oh! I perceive," said d.u.c.h.esne, smiling; "your observation is most just. If my friend here, however, cannot put you on the track, I fear you have little to hope for elsewhere."
"I am aware of that; and Monsieur Cauchois knows the great reliance his Majesty reposes in his skill and activity."