Talleyrand shrugged and took a drink of wine. ' Stranger things have happened, and only Sieyes is more adept than Fouche at turning his coat. This, of course, occurred in the summer of '97, when there came the great reaction to the Right led by the Clichiens. To uninformed people, as Fouche then was, it must have looked quite likely that Pichegru and his friends would succeed in restoring the Monarchy. No doubt our wily friend thought that by a stitch in time he might at least earn a pardon. But you are right. The Royalists would have nothing to do with him.'
Again scanning the dossier, Talleyrand went on, ' '' His reaction to this rebuff was to throw himself heart and soul into the movement of the Left, which culminated in the coup of Fructidor by which General Augereau swept away the Royalist elements in the Legislature. It was Fouche's activities at this time that earned him the approbation of the Directory and led to his Order of Banishment being rescinded. In September, '98, he was sent as Ambassador to the Cisalpine Republic. While there, he saw the folly of seeking to dictate to the Italians rather than win them as willing allies and, in this, he had the support of General Joubert. The
Directory did not approve this policy and he was recalled."'
Breaking off for a moment, Talleyrand remarked, ' It was I who urged that policy upon him. Because the Directory countermanded it France has since paid the penalty. Had we not oppressed the Italians they might have sided with us against Suvoroff's Russians. But no matter. '' On his return he was sent as Ambassador to the Batavian Republic. Its Government, owing to French oppression, was toying with the idea of coming to terms with the Orange Party, which was under the influence of England. By skilful diplomacy he prevented that. This resulted in the Dutch Army under General Daendles siding with France when the Anglo-Russian force landed in Holland a month later. In July he was recalled and made Minister of Police. On August 13th, he closed the Jacobin Club.'
'What!' exclaimed Roger. 'Is it possible? Next you'll be teiling me that he has gone to Mass in Notre Dame.'
' Os, he will, sooner or later,' Talleyrand replied. It is no longer the fashion to feed donkeys on the Host and tie Bibles to their tails, as he did when representing the Committee of Public Safety in Lyons. It is simply that, now he has become a Minister, he wants to remain one. He is, therefore, prepared to use repressive measures against either side, if it looks like making trouble. He has courage, you know, as well as brains.'
They talked for a while longer and finished the champagne. Then, as Talleyrand accompanied Roger out into the hall, he said:
' You and I have always held the same views about what is best for Europe and events in the next few weeks may decide the future of Europe for many years to come. You are both Bonaparte's friend and mine. Since we both trust you, I had hoped that you would act as a contact between us at times when it would be wiser for neither of us to call upon the other. That apart, such an evil chance having beset you distresses me greatly. I would give much to be able to protect you from Fouche. As that is beyond my power, I can only wish you well and promise that, should your worst fears be realized, I will do my utmost to have you brought to trial and see that you get a fair hearing.'
This was cold comfort, for Roger knew that should he be brought to trial he would, for ever afterwards, remain suspect, even if he were acquitted, so he would be finished as a secret agent. But at least Talleyrand would provide a life-line which would prevent his being spirited away and dealt with summarily before his friends had had time to start wondering what had become of him.
He found his two chairmen curled up asleep beside a brazier under the porte-cocheur. As he roused them, Talleyrand came down the steps from the house and said, '1 see that, not realizing that your return would be at such a late hour, you brought no link-man. I will send my night-watchman to light you on your way. He can lock the courtyard gate behind him.'
'I thank you for the thought,' Roger replied, ' but this is a public chair. I am sure the bearers must know Paris well and will have no difficulty in finding their way back to my inn.'
' It is not a question of finding the way. You must have light, to shine upon your sword or a pistol held so that it can be seen through the window of the chair; otherwise you will be attacked.'
' Attacked! By whom? Why should I be? '
Talleyrand gave a cynical laugh. ' My friend, you are a stranger in Paris. Otherwise you would know that our Government is much too occupied with other matters to prevent a thousand footpads roaming the streets every night. Why, the banker who finances the gaming rooms at the Palais Royal has to hire a troop of cavalry to escort his cashier's barouche to the bank with each day's takings. Did he not, he would soon find it hard to get cashiers, for, night after night, their throats would be cut.'
Roger made no further protest about accepting the services of the watchman. He reached home without incident, a little afer two o'clock in the morning. In spite of his anxiety, he dropped off to sleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.
By half past nine next morning he was at the Ministry of Police. On his producing Fouche's letter a bearded official, wearing a seedy overcoat, wrote his name in a book then took him to a bare, chilly waiting room. His nerves taut with apprehension about the coming interview, he paced to and fro between the window and the door. Ten minutes passed, fifteen, but nobody came for him; so he sat down on a wooden bench. The only printed matter in the room was police notices on the walls. Inevitably, his mind drifted to Joseph Fouche and what he knew of that strange, devious-minded man.
Fouche had been born in Nantes, of middle-class parents. The family were merchants and shipowners and owned a plantation in the West Indies, but Joseph was put into the Church. He never actually took Orders, but for ten years wore the tonsure as a lay brother of the Oratorian Fathers and taught in their seminaries. From his teens, he had taken an interest in police work and one of his hobbies was playing the amateur detective. The other was science, with special interest in balloon ascents such as those of the Montgolfier brothers, which were then arousing great interest.
In '89, still as an Oratorian schoolteacher, he was living in Arras. There he became friendly with Robespierre and his family. So close was the friendship that he had contemplated marrying Robespierre's sister Charlotte and, when Robespierre had been elected as a Deputy to the Third Estate, it was Fouche who had lent the impecunious lawyer the money to go to Paris.
Imbued with the revolutionary ideas of the Arras circle of which Carnot, then stationed there as an Officer of Engineers, had also been a member, he had returned to Nantes, left the Oratorians and became a professional agitator. In September, '92, he had been elected as a Deputy for Loire Inferure. In the same month he had married a Mademoiselle Coignaud, the daughter of a local official. She had red hair and eyebrows, a pale, pimply face and was terribly ugly. Yet Fouche adored her. His love for her and the children he had by her was the one constant and decent emotion he displayed in his whole life.
In Paris, as a member of the Convention, he had soon made his mark. In '93, the Committee of Public Safety had sent him as Representant en Mission to Nevers. With unlimited powers, he had given free rein to a fanatical atheism, sacked all the churches, sent all their sacred vessels to Paris to be melted down and made the Archbishop wear the Red Cap of Liberty. Transferred to Moulins, he had carried out similar desecrations. But it was in Lyons that he had made his name for ever infamous.