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Vidocq. The name strikes terror in the Parisian underworld of 1818. As founder and chief of a newly created plainclothes police force, Vidocq has used his mastery of disguise and surveillance to capture some of France’s most notorious and elusive criminals. Now he is hot on the trail of a tantalizing mystery—the fate of the young dauphin Louis-Charles, son of Marie-Antoinette and King Louis XVI.
Hector Carpentier, a medical student, lives with his widowed mother in her once-genteel home, now a boardinghouse, in Paris’s Latin Quarter, helping the family make ends meet in the politically perilous days of the restoration. Three blocks away, a man has been murdered, and Hector’s name has been found on a scrap of paper in the dead man’s pocket: a case for the unparalleled deductive skills of Eugène François Vidocq, the most feared man in the Paris police. At first suspicious of Hector’s role in the murder, Vidocq gradually draws him into an exhilarating—and dangerous—search that leads them to the true story of what happened to the son of the murdered royal family.
Officially, the Dauphin died a brutal death in Paris’s dreaded Temple—a menacing black tower from which there could have been no escape—but speculation has long persisted that the ten-year-old heir may have been smuggled out of his prison cell. When Hector and Vidocq stumble across a man with no memory of who he is, they begin to wonder if he is the Dauphin himself, come back from the dead. Their suspicions deepen with the discovery of a diary that reveals Hector’s own shocking link to the boy in the tower—and leaves him bound and determined to see justice done, no matter the cost.
In The Black Tower, Bayard deftly interweaves political intrigue, epic treachery, cover-ups, and conspiracies into a gripping portrait of family redemption—and brings to life an indelible portrait of the mighty and profane Eugène François Vidocq, history’s first great detective.
For Vidocq, the high-flying, outsized founder of the Sûreté Nationale, arguably the first formal police service, is a slippery figure. His transformation from petty criminal to detective grew out of a need to escape a life on the run and inform on other criminals. His contributions to detection are legion, from making plaster casts of shoe impressions to ballistics examination, contrasting his philandering nature and enigmatic personality. Vidocq came off so larger-than-life in his 1827 autobiography (helped by the embellishments of his ghost writer) that it's little wonder he served as the inspiration for Poe's landmark detective protagonist C. Auguste Dupin -- and possibly warded off writers aspiring to make something of his exploits.
Just as Bayard relegated Poe to a supporting role in The Pale Blue Eye, he makes the same smart decision about Vidocq. As seen through the eyes of young medical student Hector Carpentier, The Black Tower's seemingly naïve, unformed narrator, Vidocq circa 1818 is a man of many facets, but his investigative acumen is in sharp focus:
Legend has it that if you give Vidocq two or three details surrounding a given crime, he will give you back the man who did it -- before you've had time to blink. More than that, he'll describe the man for you, give you his most recent address, name all his known conspirators, tell you his favorite cheese. So compendious is his memory that a full half of Paris imagines him to be omniscient and wonders if his powers weren't given to him by Satan...
And yet he is doing God's work, is he not? To hear the papers tell it, Vidocq, in the space of a few years, has sent hundreds of malefactors to prison. The ones that remain abroad cross themselves at the sound of his name. If a robbery falls apart at the last minute, it's Vidocq's doing. If a credulous old widow manages, against all odds, to keep her jewels, blame it on the scoundrel Vidocq. If an innocent man lives to see another morrow, who's behind it? The accursed Vidocq, that's who.
Carpentier's first encounter with Vidocq arises out of a hard-earned lesson: "never let your name be found in a dead man's trousers." The dead man in question is one Monsieur Leblanc, a man Carpentier never met; he was murdered before he could pass on a startling bit of news to the young man. Vidocq picks up the scent early and co-opts Carpentier into his fledgling investigation, teaching the young man a second lesson when he dares to make inquiries on his own: "in the act of being caught, he manages to catch you."
The inauspicious start gives way to genuine teamwork as Vidocq and Carpentier follow the clues of Leblanc's murder to the home of a baroness, where they discover a watch with missing letters and uncover the startling news that Louis-Charles, the young son of guillotined monarchs Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette, may not have died at the Bastille after all. Such news would throw the fate of France, current and future, into chaos, especially at a time, post-Revolution, post-Napoleon, that Carpentier refers to as a "great forgetting."
The weight of its subject might have plunged a lesser novel into the quagmire of the political conspiracy thriller, but Bayard keeps a light hand, choosing character over exposition at every moment. Supporting players -- including Carpentier's mother; her buffoon-like boarders, with evocative names like Rosbif and Lapin; and Vidocq's love interest, Jeanne-Victoire -- are rendered with care, minimal description providing maximum insight into their flaws and how they help or hinder the mystery at hand. Even the seeming villains are graced with morally ambiguous natures, mirroring Vidocq's transition from criminal to detective.
Naturally, Bayard focuses Vidocq with the most care, emphasizing not only the man's formidable skills but his growing acceptance of Carpentier's own improving prospects. "You're thinking like a policeman," Vidocq says approvingly, "When I remember what a timid little sod you were just a couple of weeks back, scared of your own voice, and now look at you, with your grand, beautiful theories!" The praise is cut mercifully short, as Vidocq retreats to enigmatic baseline (when the subject of heart comes up, he replies, "I've got one of those myself. I keep it in a box somewhere") but the point is made: through partnership and complementary skills the duo is more likely to uncover the truth about what really happened to the Dauphin -- even if that very knowledge forces them to question assumptions about the country, those they care about, and each other.
Once the twists are revealed -- Bayard has a special knack for surprising the reader at a book's close -- and the shocks fade away, giving way to mordant humor (one of the closing images is of a middle-aged Carpentier subjecting an older Vidocq to a rectal examination, provoking a host of layered significance for the reader), The Black Tower remains haunted by the specter of memory and why total erasure is impossible. "In the end," Carpentier ruminates, "there is no forgetting. History lies low but always rises up." To neglect history is to ignore it and suffer the consequences. But to write about it, to take salient points about a particular time and place and character and create both an engaging mystery that provokes the reader, is to ensure a positive feedback loop of remembering that solves the problem posed at the beginning of this review. The make-believe world of The Black Tower succeeds by broadcasting larger truths that might otherwise elude us. --Sarah Weinman
Sarah Weinman reviews crime fiction for the Los Angeles Times and the Baltimore Sun and blogs about the genre at Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind (http://www.sarahweinman.com).
Chapter One
The Beggar at the Corner
I'm a man of a certain age—old enough to have been every kind of fool—and I find to my surprise that the only counsel I have to pass on is this: Never let your name be found in a dead man's trousers.
Name, yes. Mine is Hector Carpentier. These days, Professor Carpentier, of the École de Médecine. My specialty is venereology, which is a reliable source of amusement for my students. "Come with us," they say. "Carpentier's going to tell all about the second stage of syphilis. You'll never screw again."
I live on the Rue du Helder, with an orange tabby named Baptiste. My parents are dead, I have no brother or sister and haven't yet been blessed with children. In short, I'm the only family I've got, and at certain intervals of calm, my mind drifts toward those people, not strictly related, who took on all the trappings, all the meaning of family—for a time, anyway. If you were to pin me down, for instance, I'd have to say I recall the lads I went to medical school with better than I recall my own father. And Mother . . . well, she's present enough after all these years, but from some angles, she's not quite as real as Charles. Who was perhaps not real at all but who was, for a time, like family.
I think about him every time I see a penta. One glance is allit takes, and I'm standing once more in the Luxembourg Gardens, somewhere in May. I'm watching a pretty girl pass (the angle of her parasol, yes, the butter brightness of her gloves), and Charles is brooding over flowers. He is always brooding over flowers. This time, though, he actually plucks one and holds it up to me: an Egyptian star cluster.
Five arms, hence its name. Smaller than a whisper. Imagine a starfish dragged from the ocean bottom and . . . never mind, I can't do it justice. And, really, it's not so remarkable, but sitting there in the cup of his hand, it lays some claim on me, and so does everything else: the Scottish terrier snoring on a bench; the swan cleaning its rump feathers in the fountain; the moss-blackened statue of Leonidas. I am the measure of those things and they of me, and we are all—sufficient, I suppose.
Of course, nothing about our situation has shifted. We are still marked men, he and I. But at this moment, I can imagine a sliver of grace—the possibility, I mean, that we might be marked for other things. And all because of this silly flower, which on any other day, I would have stepped on like so much carpet.
He's been on my mind of late, because just last week, I received a letter from the Duchesse d'Angoulême. (She is staying at Count Coronini's estate in Slovenia.) The envelope was girt round with stamps, and the letter, written in her usual shy hand, was mostly an essay on rain, sealed off by prayers. I found it comforting. Word has it that the Duchess is penning her memoirs, but I don't believe it. No woman has clutched her own life more closely to her bosom. She'll hold it there, I expect, until the coroner assures her she's dead.
Which may be a long time coming. God's funny that way. The more his servants pine for his presence—and make no mistake, the Duchess does—the longer he keeps them shackled to the old mortal coil. No, it's the blasphemers he's aching to get his hands on. Take Monsieur Robespierre. At the very height of the Terror, Robespierre decided that the name "God" had too much of an ancien régime color to it. In his capacity as head of the Committee of Public Safety, he declared that God would henceforward be known as the Supreme Being. There was some kind of festival, I believe, to celebrate God's promotion. A parade, maybe. I was only two.
A few months later, with half his jaw shot off, groaning toward the scaffold, was Robespierre already composing apologies? We'll never know. There was no time for memoirs.
Me, I have acres of time, but if I were to write up my life, I don't think I could start with the usual genuflections—all those ancestors in halberds, I mean, the midwives catching you in their calloused mitts. No, I'd have to start with Vidocq. And maybe end with him, too.
A strange admission, I know, given that I spent no more than a few weeks in his company. Fifteen years have passed with virtually no word from him. Why, then, should I bother revisiting the terrible business that brought us together?
Not from any hope of being believed. If anything, I write so that I may believe. Did it really happen? In quite that way? Nothing to do but set everything down, as exactly as I can, and see what stares back at me.
And how easily the time slips away, after all. I need but shut my eyes, and two decades vanish in a breath, and I am standing once more in . . .
The year 1818. Which, according to official records, is the twenty-third year in the reign of King Louis XVIII. For all but three of those years, however, his majesty has been reigning somewhere else entirely—hiding, an unkind soul might say, while a certain Corsican made a footstool of Europe. None of that matters now. The Corsican has been locked away (again); the Bourbons are back; the fighting is done; the future is cloudless.
This curious interregnum in French history goes by the name of "the Restoration," the implication being that, after senseless experiments with democracy and empire, the French people have been restored to their senses and have invited the Bourbons back to the Tuileries. The old unpleasantness is never alluded to. We have all seen enough politics to last us a lifetime, and we know now: to take a hard line is to take a hard fall.
Excerpted from The Black Tower by Louis Bayard
Copyright © 2008 by Louis Bayard. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
MarilynHS
Posted December 26, 2010
The reader is drawn into the early 19th century world of France. It's a wonderful story about the "sudden" emergence of Louis-Charles, son of Marie-Antoinette and Louis XVI. Could this dirty and unkempt prson with amnesia be thetrue heir apparent? Very interesting and uncommon character who is the detective trying to unravel the mystery. Very good!
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Posted February 24, 2009
For all Mystery and Historical fiction addicts.
Bayard's research is authentic, and his historical detective, that Hugo used in Les Miserables, gives a stunning glimpse in his methods and what dwells deep within his personna.
Bayard in Revolutionary France has his place like Phillippa Gregory during the reign of Henry VIII.
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Posted February 9, 2009
This book was a little predictable in the middle, with an interesting twist at the end. Not sure how historically accurate it was. This would not fall into my Must Read category, but it would make a good beach read.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Really enjoyed this book. Thought it was a very entertaining mixture of fiction and history with a great cast of characters and a mystery that kept me interested right to the end. This was the first book I read by Louis Bayard and I immediately purchased The Pale Blue Eye after finishing The Black Tower. I would definitely recommend this book.
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Posted September 18, 2008
Take my word for it, this is a very entertaining read . The mystery, the humor, the emotion, all make this one enjoyable experience . It will have you guessing right up to the last page....and then some .
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Posted August 31, 2008
Carve out some free time. You won't want to put this one down for a minute. I was fortunate to not have missed work due to lack of sleep, albeit I did miss a good part of Labor Day weekend reading 'The Black Tower' cover to cover! It's a great mystery, but Bayard has such a human quality and gives such depth to his characters. Best I've read since Pearl's debut novel 'The Dante Club'.
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Posted June 5, 2008
For anyone who loves a great historical mystery this is the series for you! Louis Bayard has a distinctive form of writing bringing the early 19th Century France alive & filled with quirky characters such as Vidocq who has just iniciated the plainclothes force called the Sureté. He reminds me of Colombo who appear to be rumpled & annoying but highly intelligent & Sherlock Holmes who is also a master of disguise. You are drawn into the plot immediately & you won't be able to put this book down until you have finished the very last page. Then, you have this incredible desire to pick the book up & read it again! The mystery continues to the very last page! An amazing read! Louis Bayard is now my #1 favorite historical mystery writer! This series is a must read.....
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Posted February 6, 2012
Louis Bayard is a lovely writer. My wife and I heard the audio book The Pale Blue Eye and were hooked. The Black Tower is a different type of book but similar in its attention to history. However, it would be equally satisfying without the historical references. Fun for readers from teens to seniors.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.I have to admit that I bought this book for the sole reason I had seen it before and it was cheap, but after reading it I might just make this author one of my regulars. The story is a dark historical fiction about France (mainly Paris) after the Napoleonic era. It was a bit of a struggle for me at first, getting along with the authentic names and places that were obviously french, but it did get easier as the book progressed. I found the book enchanting and difficult to put down. The twist at the end is fantastic, and I really like the tone that Bayard leaves off with. An excellent read.
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Posted February 10, 2009
Moved well, and I particularly enjoyed the twist at the end. Keeps you wondering - or does it?
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Posted July 28, 2008
Hector Carpentier, a Parisian medical student recounts his strange unexpected encounter with Vidocq, a former convict turned head of a mysterious police force and unusual informants known for its unusual luck in capturing some of Paris's most elusive criminals. When a murdered man shows up blocks from Hector's home with the name Dr. Carpentier on a slip of paper, Vidocq intends to do everything within his power to ferret out the truth. As the trial of clues unfold, the past comes back to haunt Hector and indeed Paris itself. Working together yet perhaps also trying to hide the truth, Hector's examination of medical records unveils a mystery ---- what if the young dauphin Louis-Charles, son of Marie-Antoinette and King Louis XVI had not died and somehow survived or even escaped from his imprisonment in the notorious Black Tower? In the meantime, a mysterious man with no memory has surfaced, a man with mysterious links to Hector and the past. Could he be the dauphin? Who might want this man dead badly enough to commit murder?// Louis Bayard's THE BLACK TOWER gives the reader a fascinating look into the Bourbon Restoration as well as the French Revolution's violence and excess that haunt his characters. The journals of the assistant to the doctor attending the dauphin surface, detailing the brutal results of abuse forced on a child in the anti-monarchy fervor of the Revolution. Louis Bayard gives reader a fascinating glimpse into characters and indeed a culture that seeks to erase the past and the origins in the name of justice. History and its effects are seen in the lives of his characters, a city and a country that struggles with its past origins. The changes in the lives of his characters as the past glory fades to a shadow of the past, a more sparse detached life creates a beautiful insight into the way history might have been experienced by people living it. THE BLACK TOWER brings forward the figure of the dauphin, not just as a tie to the monarchy, but as a little boy and a hope in the hearts of those who have lived through the Revolution.// With this beautifully crafted portrait of the times, Louis Bayard adds a riveting tale of suspense and mystery. Picking up in the character some credit as the inspiration for Edgar Allen Poe's Dupin, Louis Bayard takes the reader on a journey to discover the historical and literary origins of detective work itself in the enigmatic Vidocq, a man who would later found the first known private detective agency in 1833. Vidocq is a man with amazing cunning, a man who can twist a confession out of anyone and strike fear into the most hardened criminals. As Hector and Vidocq make a thrilling hunt for the truth, the confrontation of their personalities, the emerging suspects, and plots of conspiracy merge to create a mystery that keeps readers guessing to shocking conclusion. Louis Bayard's THE BLACK TOWER is a delightful mix of literary and detective historical fiction blended with an exquisite fictional imagination, creating a historical 'what if' suspense tale that thrills while it also moves the heart. THE BLACK TOWER is a must read book for all lovers of historical fiction and suspense! THE BLACK TOWER is the kind of book that that demonstrates the best of literary fiction, a book that continues to elicit even more after the last page is read in the hearts and imagination of avid historical readers.
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Overview
Vidocq. The name strikes terror in the Parisian underworld of 1818. As founder and chief of a newly created plainclothes police force, Vidocq has used his mastery of disguise and surveillance to capture some of France’s most notorious and elusive criminals. Now he is hot on the trail of a tantalizing mystery—the fate of the young dauphin Louis-Charles, son of Marie-Antoinette and King Louis XVI.
Hector Carpentier, a medical student, lives with his widowed mother in her once-genteel home, now a boardinghouse, in Paris’s Latin Quarter, helping the family make ends meet in the politically perilous days of the restoration. Three blocks away, a man has been ...