seven o’clock he appeared before Commissioner Lardin, who informed him of his timetable. His lessons with the magistrate Monsieur de Noblecourt, a small kindly old man, and a keen chess player and flautist, were enjoyable moments of relaxation. Thanks to his teacher’s knowledgeable advice he became a keen concert-goer.
Nicolas continued to explore Paris and the faubourgs. Never, not even in Guérande, had he walked so much.
On Sundays, he went to concerts of sacred music that were given then in the great hall of the Louvre. One day he found himself sitting next to a young seminarist. Pierre Pigneau, a native of Origny in the diocese of Laon, longed to join the Society of Foreign Missionaries. He explained to an admiring Nicolas his vow to dispel the darkness of idolatry with the light of the Gospels. He wished to join the mission in Cochin China, which for the past few years had been subject to terrible persecution. The young man, a tall, ruddy-faced lad with a sharp sense of humour, agreed with Nicolas about the poor performance of an Exaudi Deus given by the celebrated Madame Philidor. So indignant were they at the audience’s applause that they got up together and left. Nicolas accompanied his new-found friend to the Seminary of the Thirty-Three. After arranging to meet up again the following week, they went their separate ways
The two young men soon took to ending their outings at Stohrer’s, pastry-cook to the King. His shop in Rue Montorgueil had been a fashionable meeting place ever since its owner had supplied the court with cakes of his own creation that were especially to the liking of the Queen, Marie Leszczyn´ska. Nicolas greatly enjoyed the young priest’s company.
In the beginning, Lardin, whose duties were not confined to a particular district, instructed him to accompany him on his assignments. Nicolas experienced the early morning routine of sealing up property, confiscating goods, making reports or merely settling the disputes between neighbours that were so common in faubourg tenements where the poorest people crowded together. He made the acquaintance of inspectors, men of the watch, guards on the ramparts, gaolers and even executioners. He had to steel himself for the horrendous spectacles of the torture chamber and the great morgue. Nothing was kept from him and he soon learnt that in order to function properly the police had to rely on a host of informers, spies and prostitutes, a twilight world that enabled the Lieutenant General of Police to know more about the secrets of the capital than anyone else in France. Nicolas also realised that, through his control of the postal service and all private correspondence, Monsieur de Sartine had at his disposal a precious network for penetrating people’s innermost thoughts. As a result, he himself was suitably cautious and remained guarded in the letters he regularly sent to Brittany.
Nicolas’s relations with the commissioner had barely changed, either for better or for worse. Lardin’s cold, authoritarian manner was met by the young man’s silent obedience. For lengthy periods, the policeman seemed to forget all about him. Monsieur de Sartine, on the other hand, did not hesitate to remind Nicolas of his existence. From time to time a little Savoyard chimney sweep would bring him a laconic note summoning him to the Châtelet or to Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin. These encounters were brief affairs. The Lieutenant General would question Nicolas, who noticed that certain questions revolved oddly around Lardin. Sartine made him describe in minute detail the commissioner’s house and the family’s habits, even going so far as to ask about what they ate. Nicolas was sometimes a little embarrassed at being interrogated in this way and puzzled as to the meaning of it.
The Lieutenant General of Police ordered him to attend criminal hearings and to give him a written summary of the sessions. One day, he instructed him to report back on the arrest of a man who had circulated letters of exchange with disputed signatures. Nicolas saw the officers of the watch grab an individual in the middle of the street. He had bright eyes and a striking face, and he spoke French with a strong Italian accent. The man called out to him:
‘Monsieur, you look like an honest person, look how they treat a citizen of Venice. They are seizing the noble Casanova. Bear witness to the injustice being done. It’s a crime against someone who lives and writes as a philosopher.’
Nicolas followed him as far as For-l’Evêque prison. When he gave Sartine his report the Lieutenant General began to swear under his breath and exclaimed:
‘He’ll be free by tomorrow: Monsieur de Choiseul protects this scoundrel. He’s an agreeable fellow, for all that.’
The apprentice policeman drew various conclusions from this episode.
On another occasion he had to offer to purchase some jewellery from a dealer in clocks and watches. The man was awaiting delivery of a large number of precious items before reselling them but he was also expected to go bankrupt. Nicolas was to pass himself off as an envoy of Monsieur Dudoit, a police commissioner from the district of Sainte-Marguerite, whom Monsieur de Sartine suspected of being in league with the dealer. The Paris Chief of Police kept his staff closely in check, wishing to avoid a repeat of the popular unrest of 1750, when there had been protests against the dishonesty of some commissioners. Even the world of gambling was no longer a mystery to Nicolas and he was soon able to distinguish between its recruiters, procurers, keepers, touts and lottery receivers, and the whole world of betting and card sharps.
Everything in Paris, in the world of crime, revolved around gaming, prostitution and theft, and these three worlds were interconnected in countless ways.
*
In fifteen months Nicolas learnt his trade. He knew the price of silence and of secrecy. He had matured and was now better able to control his feelings by restraining his imagination, which was still too wild for his liking. He was no longer the adolescent whom Père Grégoire had welcomed on his arrival in Paris. It was a different Nicolas who received a letter from Guérande informing him of the desperate state of health of his guardian. The sombre and stern silhouette standing at the prow of the barge, facing the raging Loire, on this cold January morning in 1761 was already that of a man.
Passion da Vener
Maro dar Zadorn
Interramant d’ar Zul
Dar baradoz hec’h ei zur.
Dying on Friday
Dead on Saturday
Buried on Sunday
Going to paradise certainly.
SAYING FROM LOWER BRITTANY
Wednesday 24 January 1761
The Loire was kind as far as Angers. Rain which sometimes turned to snow had fallen incessantly and during the overnight stay in Tours the river level had continued to rise. Sometimes, through a break in the fog, a ghost town emerged, grey and lifeless. The banks slipped by unseen. On reaching Angers the barge was caught up in an eddying current. It struck the pier of a bridge, spun around several times and then, out of control and breaking up, it ran aground on a sand bank. The passengers and crew were able to reach the riverbank in a punt.
After reviving himself with some mulled wine at an inn for boatmen, Nicolas made enquiries about possible ways of getting to Nantes. He had been on the barge for several days. Would he reach Guérande in
