Napoleon on one occasion, in the Isle of Elba, said to an officer who was conversing with him about France, “You believe, then; that the police agents foresee everything and know everything?  They invent more than they discover.  Mine, I believe, was better than that they have got now, and yet it was often only by mere chance, the imprudence of the parties implicated, or the treachery of some of them, that something was discovered after a week or fortnight’s exertion.”  Napoleon, in directing this officer to transmit letters to him under the cover of a commercial correspondence, to quiet his apprehensions that the correspondence might be discovered, said, “Do you think, then, that all letters are opened at the post office?  They would never be able to do so.  I have often endeavoured to discover what the correspondence was that passed under mercantile forms, but I never succeeded.  The post office, like the police, catches only fools.”

Since I am on the subject of political police, that leprosy of modern society, perhaps I may be allowed to overstep the order of time, and advert to its state even in the present day.

The Minister of Police, to give his prince a favourable idea of his activity, contrives great conspiracies, which he is pretty sure to discover in time, because he is their originator.  The inferior agents, to find favour in the eyes of the Minister, contrive small plots.  It would be difficult to mention a conspiracy which has been discovered, except when the police agents took part in it, or were its promoters.  It is difficult to conceive how those agents can feed a little intrigue, the result at first, perhaps, of some petty ill-humour and discontent which, thanks to their skill, soon becomes a great affair.  How many conspiracies have escaped the boasted activity and vigilance of the police when none of its agents were parties.  I may instance Babeuf’s conspiracy, the attempt at the camp at Grenelle, the 18th Brumaire, the infernal machine, Mallet, the 20th of March, the affair of Grenoble, and many others.

The political police, the result of the troubles of the Revolution, has survived them.  The civil police for the security of property, health, and order, is only made a secondary object, and has been, therefore, neglected.  There are times in which it is thought of more consequence to discover whether a citizen goes to mass or confession than to defeat the designs of a band of robbers.  Such a state of things is unfortunate for a country; and the money expended on a system of superintendence over persons alleged to be suspected, in domestic inquisitions, in the corruption of the friends, relations, and servants of the man marked out for destruction might be much better employed.  The espionage of opinion, created, as I have said, by the revolutionary troubles, is suspicious, restless, officious, inquisitorial, vexatious, and tyrannical.  Indifferent to crimes and real offences, it is totally absorbed in the inquisition of thoughts.  Who has not heard it said in company, to some one speaking warmly, “Be moderate, M------ is supposed to belong to the police.”  This police enthralled Bonaparte himself in its snares, and held him a long time under the influence of its power.