THE FIRE BRIGADE AND THE POLICE.
The _Sapeurs-pompiers_--The Prefect of Police--The _Garde
Républicaine_--The Spy System.
The Tribunal of Commerce, standing north of the Rue de Lutèce, has for
pendant on its south side (that is to say, between the Rue de Lutèce and
the quay) the barrack of the Republican Guard and two houses adjoining
it, one of which is the private residence of the Prefect of Police:
where, moreover, he has his private office; while the second contains
the station of the firemen of the town of Paris.
The Fire Brigade, or corps of Sapeurs-pompiers, is partly under the
direction of the Prefect of Police, partly under that of the Minister
of War, who takes charge of its organisation, its recruitment, and its
internal administration. Much was said at the time of the terrible fire
at the Opéra Comique in 1887 of the evils of this dual system; the chief
of the corps, an officer appointed by the War Minister, being often an
experienced soldier, but never before his appointment a skilled fireman.
There is a reason, however, for placing the Sapeurs-pompiers under the
orders of the Minister of War. During the campaign of 1870 and 1871 the
Germans refused to recognise the military character of corps not holding
their commission from this minister. Thus the National Guards, as a
purely civic body, were not looked upon as soldiers, and were threatened
with the penalties inflicted on persons taking up arms without authority
from the central military power. In the next war against Germany the
French propose to call out the whole of their available forces; and
to be recognised as regular troops the Sapeurs-pompiers must have a
military organisation and act under military chiefs formally appointed
and responsible to a superior officer. All this, however, could surely
be accomplished without rendering the corps unfit for the special duties
assigned to it.
The Sapeurs-pompiers are organised in twelve companies, forming two
battalions, and are distributed among the 150 barracks, stations, and
watch-houses comprised in the twenty districts, or _arrondissements_, of
Paris.
The Magistracy of the Prefect of Police was created under the Consulate
of the 1st of July, 1800, when the Central Power took over the general
police duties entrusted under the Monarchy to the Lieutenant-General of
Police, and which had been transferred by the Revolution to the Commune
of Paris. The Prefect is specially empowered to take, personally,
every step necessary for the discovery and repression of crime and
for the punishment of criminals. He is charged, moreover, under the
authority of the Minister of the Interior, with all that relates to
the administrative and economic government of the prisons and houses
of detention and correction, not only in Paris, but throughout the
department of the Seine, as well as in the communes of Saint-Cloud,
Sèvres, Meudon, and Enghien, suburbs of Paris belonging to the
department of Seine-et-Oise.
The Prefect of Police has beneath his orders all the police of the
capital, or rather of the department to which the capital belongs. This
service is divided into two special organisations: Municipal Police
and Agents of Security. The "Security" force consists of three hundred
agents with the title of inspector, commanded by five chief inspectors,
ten brigadiers, and twenty sub-brigadiers. These agents are employed
in arresting malefactors, and are viewed with intense hatred by the
criminal class generally. The Municipal Police counts an effective of
about 8,000 men, commanded by 38 peace officers, 25 chief inspectors,
100 brigadiers, and 700 sub-brigadiers. The entire expenditure of the
Prefecture of the Police Service amounts to twenty-five million francs
a year, of which eleven millions are put down for pay and the remainder
for uniforms, office expenses, and all kinds of extras.
"If," says a French writer who knows London as well as Paris, "our
police is not always so clear-sighted and so clever as it might be,
it is, at any rate, more tolerant than vexatious. Our 'keepers of the
peace' do not impose on the Paris population all the respect that the
English people feels for its policemen; nor have they the same rigid
bearing or the same herculean aspect. But, on the other hand, they are
without their brutality--quite incredible to anyone who has not lived
in London. Nearly all have been in the army, and they preserve the
familiar aspect of the French soldier; while of the rules laid down
by the Prefecture, the one they least observe is that which forbids
them to talk in the street with servant maids and cooks. But they are
intelligent, ingenious, possessed of a certain tact, and brave to the
point of self-sacrifice. They are at present more appreciated and more
popular, with their tunic, their military cap, their high boots, and
their little cloak, which give them the look of troops on a campaign,
than were the Sergents de Ville whose swallow-tail coat and black cocked
hat were so much feared by rioters under the reign of Louis Philippe."
The Barracks of the Prefecture are occupied by the Garde Républicaine,
which succeeds the Garde de Paris, the latter having itself succeeded
the Garde Municipale, which was simply the Gendarmerie Royale of the
Town of Paris, created under the Restoration. After the Revolution
of 1848 the name of the Garde Municipale was changed, as after the
Revolution of 1830 the title of Gendarmerie Royale was abolished.
Notwithstanding alterations of name and certain slight modifications
of uniform, the Republican Guard is a legion of gendarmerie like
the different corps that preceded it. Commanded by a colonel, the
Republican Guard is divided into two detachments or brigades, each
under a lieutenant-colonel; the first consisting of three battalions
of infantry, the second of three squadrons of cavalry. The whole force
comprises 118 officers, with 2,800 men beneath their orders--2,200
infantry, and 600 cavalry.
The Republican Guard, one of the finest corps that can be seen, belongs
to the cadres of the regular army; and it served brilliantly in the war
of 1870 and 1871. Its special duties, however, are to keep order in the
City of Paris; though, in consideration of its mixed character, the pay
assigned to it is furnished, half by the State, half by the Town of
Paris. Among other merits it possesses an admirable band, in which may
be found some of the finest orchestral players in a capital possessing
an abundance of fine orchestras. The evidence of a Garde Républicaine,
or gendarme, is accepted at the police courts as unimpeachable. The
written statement drawn up by a gendarme may be denied by the accused,
but it cannot be set aside.
"As a matter of fact," says M. Auguste Vitu, in his work on "Paris,"
"very few evil results are caused by this rule; for the gendarme is
honest. But he may make a mistake. In London, the magistrate, having
generally to deal only with policemen of his own district, knows them
personally, can judge of their intelligence and disposition, and is
able in certain cases to see whether they are obscuring or altering
the truth. He exercises over them, in case of negligence or error,
accidental or intentional, the right of reprimanding and of suspending
them. In Paris the 'judges of correction,' before whom, at one time or
another, every one of the 'keepers of the peace' or of the Republican
Guards (altogether about 10,000 men) may appear, can only accept their
evidence. It is doubtless sincere, but there is no way of testing it."
Of the spy system in connection with police administration it is
difficult to speak with accurate knowledge, for the simple reason that
it is not until long afterwards that secret arrangements of this kind
are divulged. But in principle the system described by Mercier more than
a hundred years ago still exists.
"This," writes that faithful chronicler, "may be termed the second part
of Parisian grievances. Yet, like even the most poisonous reptile, these
bloodhounds are of some service to the community: they form a mass of
corruption which the police distil, as it were, with equal art and
judgment, and, by mixing it with a few salutary ingredients, soften its
baneful nature, and turn it to public advantage. The dregs that remain
at the bottom of the still are the spies of whom I have just spoken; for
these also belong to the police. The distilled matter itself consists
of the thief-catchers, etc. They, like other spies, have persons to
watch over them; each is foremost to impeach the other, and a base
lucre is the bone of contention amongst those wretches, who are, of all
evils, the most necessary. Such are the admirable regulations of the
Paris police that a man, if suspected, is so closely watched that the
most minute transaction in which he is concerned is treasured up till
it is fit time to arrest him. The police does not confine its care to
the capital only. Droves of its runners are sent to the principal towns
and cities in this kingdom, where, by mixing with those whose character
is suspicious, they insinuate themselves into their confidence, and
by pretending to join in their mischievous schemes, get sufficient
information to prevent their being carried into execution. The mere
narrative of the following fact, which happened when M. de Sartine was
at the head of this department, will give the reader an idea of the
watchfulness of the police. A gentleman travelling from Bordeaux to
Paris with only one servant in his company was stopped at the turnpike
by the Custom House officer, who, having inquired his name, told him he
must go directly to M. de Sartine. The traveller was both astonished
and frightened at this peremptory command, which, however, it would
have been imprudent to disobey. He went, and his fears soon subsided at
the civil reception he met with; but his surprise was greatly increased
when the magistrate, whom, to his knowledge, he had never seen before,
calling him by his name, gave him an account of every transaction that
had taken place previous to the gentleman's departure from Bordeaux,
and even minutely described the full contents of his portmanteau. 'Now,
sir,' continued the Lieutenant de Police, 'to show that I am well
informed I have a trifle more to disclose to you. You are going to such
and such an hotel, and a scheme is laid by your servant to murder you
by ten o'clock.' 'Then, my lord, I must shift my quarters to defeat his
wicked intention.' 'By no means, sir; you must not even take notice of
what I have said. Retire to bed at your usual hour, and leave the rest
to me.' The gentleman followed the advice of the magistrate and went to
the hotel. About an hour after he had lain down, when, no doubt, he was
but little inclined to compose himself to rest, the servant, armed with
a clasp-knife, entered the room on tip-toe, drew near the bed, and was
about to fulfil his murderous intention. Then four men, rushing from
behind the hangings, seized the wretch, who confessed all, and soon
afterwards paid to the injured laws of humanity the forfeit of his life."
[Illustration: A POMPIER.]
Since the Revolution the number of spies employed in France has
doubtless diminished. But they have existed in that country, as in
others, from time immemorial. A French writer, dealing with this
subject, traces the history of espionage to the remotest antiquity;
the first spies being, according to his view, the brothers of Joseph,
who were for that reason detained when they visited him in Egypt as
Pharaoh's minister. The Romans employed spies in their armies, and both
Nero and Caligula had an immense number of secret agents. Alfred the
Great was a spy of the chivalrous, self-sacrificing kind; for, risking
his life on behalf of his own people he would assuredly, had he been
recognised in the Danish camp, have been put to death. The spy system
was first established in France on a large, widely organised scale by
Richelieu, under whose orders the notorious Father Joseph became the
director of a network of spies which included not only all the religious
orders of France, but many persons belonging to the nobility and middle
classes. This sort of conspiracy had, moreover, its correspondents
abroad.
The Police, strongly organised under Louis XIV., included a numerous
body of spies. But all that had before been known in the way of
espionage was eclipsed in Louis XV.'s reign, when the too famous De
Sartine, Lieutenant of Police, gave to his spy system a prodigious
extension. Under the administration of De Sartine spies were employed
to follow the Court; and the Minister of Foreign Affairs maintained a
subdivision of spies to watch the doings of all foreigners arriving in
Paris, and to ascertain, in particular, the object of their visit. This
course of action is followed to the present day in Russia, not only
secretly, but in the first instance openly. Thus the chief of a bureau
connected with the Foreign Office questions the stranger in the politest
manner as to his motive in coming to Russia, the friends, if any, that
he has there, his occupation, and his pecuniary resources.
A report is attributed to the above-named Lieutenant of Police in which
it is set forth that to watch thoroughly a family of twenty persons
forty spies would be necessary. This, however, was an ideal calculation,
for, in reality, the cost of the spy system under Louis XV., as set down
in the official registers of the police, did not amount annually to
more than 20,000 francs. The Government had, however, at its disposal
much larger sums received for licences from the gambling houses, and as
fines and ransoms from evil-doers of all kinds. Berryer, the successor
of De Sartine--bearer of a name which, in the nineteenth century, was
to be rendered honourable--conceived the idea, inspired, perhaps, by
a familiar proverb, of employing as spies criminals of various kinds,
principally thieves who had escaped from prison or from the pursuit
of the police. These wretches, banded together in a secret army of
observation, were only too zealous in the performance of the work
assigned to them; for, on the slightest negligence or prevarication,
they were sent back to the hulks or to gaol, where a hot reception
awaited them from their former comrades in crime. Hackney-coachmen,
innkeepers, and lodging-house keepers were also engaged as spies, not to
speak of domestic servants, who, through secret agencies, were sometimes
supplied to householders by the police themselves. Many a person was
sent to the Bastille in virtue of a _lettre de cachet_ issued on the
representation of some valet before whom his master had uttered an
imprudent word.
[Illustration: A GUARDIAN OF THE PEACE.]
Mercier's picture of the spy system in Paris a few years before the
Revolution is, to judge from other contemporary accounts, in no way
exaggerated. The Revolution did not think even of suppressing espionage,
but it endeavoured to moralise this essentially immoral, if sometimes
necessary, institution. In a report on this subject dated November 30,
1789, only a few months after the taking of the Bastille, the following
significant passage occurs:--"We have been deprived of a sufficient
number of observers, a sort of army operating under the orders of the
old police, which made considerable use of it. If all the districts
were well organised, if their committees were wisely chosen and not too
numerous, we should apparently have no reason to regret the suppression
of that odious institution which our oppressors employed so long against
us." The writer of the report was, in fact, recommending, without being
apparently aware of it, a system of open denunciation necessitating
previously that secret espionage which he found so hateful; for before
denouncing it would be necessary to observe and watch. Nevertheless,
the Police of the Revolution employed no regular spies, registered,
organised, and paid, until 1793; though this did not prevent wholesale
denunciation on the part of officious volunteers. Robespierre, however,
maintained a spy system more or less on the ancient pattern; and when
the Empire was established, Napoleon's famous Prefect of Police, Fouché,
made of espionage a perfect science. Fouché had at his service spies
of all classes and kinds; and the ingenious Mme. de Bawr has, in one
of her best tales, imagined the case of a poor curé, who, after the
suppression of churches and religious services, calls upon Fouché, an
old schoolfellow of his, to ask for some employment; when the crafty
police minister assigns a certain salary to his simple-minded friend and
tells him not to do any serious work for the present, but to go about
Paris amusing himself in various cafés and places of entertainment,
after which he can look in from time to time and say what has chiefly
struck him in the persons he has seen and the conversations he has
heard. At last the innocent curé finds that he has been doing the work
of a spy. Fortunately, when he discovers to what a base purpose he has
been turned, Napoleon has just restored public worship; whereupon, by
way of amends, Fouché uses his influence with the Emperor to get the
poor man re-appointed to his old parish.
[Illustration: AN ORDERLY OF THE GARDE DE PARIS.]
Under the Restoration the spy system was maintained as under the Empire,
but with additional intricacies. Fouché had been replaced by Vidocq,
who, among other strange devices for getting at the thoughts of the
public, obtained from the Government permission to establish a public
bowling alley, which collected crowds of people, whose conversations
were listened to and reported by agents employed for the purpose. The
bowling alley brought in some 4,000 to 5,000 francs a year, which
was spent on additional spies. The Prefect Delavau, with Vidocq as
his lieutenant, went back to the system of Berryer under the ancient
_régime_, taking into the State service escaped criminals, who for the
slightest fault were sent back to gaol. An attempt was made by the same
Delavau, in humble imitation of Berryer, to get into his service all
the domestics of Paris; and in this way he renewed an old regulation by
which each servant was to keep a book and bring it to the Prefecture
of Police on entering or leaving a situation. To their credit, be it
recorded, most of the servants abstained from obeying this discreditable
order. Finding that his plan for watching private families through their
servants did not answer, Delavau multiplied the number of agents charged
with attending places of public entertainment.
"The Police," writes M. Peuchet in his "Mémoires tirés des Archives
de la Police," "will never learn to respect an order so long as its
superintendents are taken from the hulks and feel that they have their
revenge to take on the society which has punished them." The justice
of this remark has since been recognised. The first care of Delavau's
successor, the honourable and much regretted M. de Belleyme, was to
dismiss, and even to send back to their prisons, the army of cut-throat
spies employed by the Prefect he replaced. At present, though his
occupation stands no higher in public opinion than of old, the spy is
not the outcast that he formerly was. Without being an honest man in the
full sense of the word, he is not literally and legally a criminal. It
is even asserted that the French spy of our own time is a man of some
character; by which is probably meant that he has never been convicted
of any offence, that he does not drink, that he has no depraved tastes,
and that in a general way he can be depended upon. "Espionage," says
Montesquieu, "is never tolerable. Otherwise the trade would be exercised
by honourable men. From the necessary infamy of the person must be
inferred the infamy of the thing." This, in effect, is just what the
Minister d'Argenson said when he was reproached with engaging none but
rogues and knaves as spies. "Find me," he replied, "decent men to do
such work!" The decent men have now, it appears, been found. So much the
better.
As, however, there is said to be honour among thieves, so there
is sometimes honesty among spies. Witness the case of the Abbé
Lenglet-Dufresnoy, simultaneously employed by Louis XIV. to keep watch
over Prince Eugène, and by Prince Eugène to report all that was done by
Louis XIV., and who is said to have given the most exact information to
both his employers.
[Illustration]