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M EMOIRS-
OI"
VIDOCQ,
4
PRINCIPAL AGENT OF THE FRENCH POLICE
I 
nl 1827 :
AND NOW PRUPRlETOR OF
THE PAPER MANUFAFYIURY AT 51' MANUE.
WRITTEN BY HiMSELF.
"TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.
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l. I . “may ;., M .nmuu», VOL. 11!.
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IN FOUR VOLUMES.
VOL. 1".
LONDON :
WHHTAKER, TREACHER, AND ARNOT.
AVE—MARIA-LAH E.

MDCCCXXIX-





Mréé
5Yéé£
v,l5"“/~
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXX".
Page
I. de Sartines and M. Lenoir—The thieves before the
Revolution—The occupation of a lieutenant-general of
police—Formerly and now—The dumb pupils of the
abhé Sicard and the cutpurses—The death of Car-
touehe— Robbers formerly agents of police—The vm
luntary enrolments and colonial battalions-The
hump-backed made straight, and the lame made to
walk—The celebrated Flambard and the beautiful
Jewess—History of a chaufl'eur become spy; his ad-
vancement in the Parisian national guard—It is com-
patible to be a patriot and a prigger—I trip Gafl'ré—
The best friends in the world—l mistrust myself—
Two hours at Saint-Roche—I have no eyes in my
pocket—An old man in an embarrassment—The spoils
of the faithful—Thief and spy two trades too many
—The danger of passing before a corps de garde—
Another trip for Gafi’ré—Goupil takes me for a. dentist
——Anattitude .............. .......-.......... 1
CHAPTER XXXllI.
The biter bit—Provocation—Wolves, lambs, and robbers
—My profession of faith—The band of Vidocq and the
old man of the mountain—No morality in the police—


vi
CONTENTS.
My calumniated agente—“A cat in glove: calcite: no
mice"-—The fishing-rod—Put on gloves—Desplanques,
or the love of independence: or where the devil has
he hid himself P—The regulation of MM. Delaveau
and Duplessis—The movable roulette tables and the
ultra philanthropist—Proper manners, proper bearing,
proper studies—Long and short gowned Jesuits—The
reign of under-petticoats—Obstinacy of robbers called
reformed—Coco-Lacour, and an old frieml—Caotigat
ridendo more: ...... . . . . . .
CHAPTER XXKlV.
Gad bleu you !—-The conciliabules—The inheritance of
Alexander—The rumours and prophecies—Grand con-
spiracy—Inquiry—Discoveries on the subject of a
Momeigneur Ie dauphin—l am innocent—The fable
often reproduced—The Plutarch of the literary pillar,
and Tiger the printer—The wonderful and well-authen-
ticated history of the famous Vidocq—His death in
1875
CHAPTER XXXV.
The newsmongers of mishaps—The echo of the street of
Jerusalem and the circumjacent places—Nothing but
"' Vidocq”—The Athenians and Aristides—Ostracism
and shells—The cat’s paw—I create robbers—The two
Guillotins—The cloaca of Desnoyers-Chaos and
creation—Monsieur Double-creche and the chicken-
coop—A genteel appearance—The supreme bon ton—
War with the greenhorns—Le Cadran bleu de la Ca-
'naiIle-——A well-compacted society—The Orientalists
and the Argonauts—The mutton of the salt-marshes—
Page
17
32


CONTENTS.
vii
The cat’s-tail—The quids and the Chahut—Riboulet
and Manon la Blonde—The triumphal entry—The
little black father—Two ballads—Hospitality—The
college friend—The Children of the Sun ...... . . . .
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A freq uenter of La Petite Chaise—A room to rob—Father
Masson's oranges—The heap of stones—No compro-
mise—A nocturnal carrying off—The jolly thief—
Every man to his liking—My first visit to Bicétre—
Down with Vidocq! Superb discourse—A matter of
fear—The storm is appeased—They will not kill me .
CHAPTER XXXVII. .
Utility of a good stomach—The suspicious occurrence—
The procession of bundles—The swallows of La Gréve
—The convenience of a hackney-coach—The swag of
these gentlemen—The shipwright’s man—There is no
Page
46
63
my
trusting every body—Madame Bras, or the scrupulous .
shopkeeper-Annette, or the good woman—People do
not always eat—The first who was king—Vidocq
caught, a new piece of ,which the last act is passed in
a guard-house—l play. the part of Vidocq—Repre-
sen'tation at my benefit—Unanimous applause—Famine
Rouge—Le grand Camel—The inspection of papers
—I let a robber escape—The veteran who takes his
broth—The author of the Pied-du-Moutow—The ae-
cusing stockings and oravat—I lose my five-franc piece
—The fight with the viutner—I am apprehended—
The commissary’s round—My deliverance—The hand-
age falls—Vidocq the Catcher recognised in Vidocq
the Caught—Do you wish for a piece of good advice?
-—Mind how the nail is driven! . . . . . . . . . . . .
73


viii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXVI“.
Now for Saint Cloud—The aspiring spy—The scheme of
diversion, or the deceitful stratagem—An early visit—
The disorder of a sleeping chamber—Singular com-
ments—No report—They are honest fellows in the
fanbourg Saint Marceau—The turkey’s claws—Take
care of your shoes—Sacrifice to the god of fat paunches
—Dm est in nobis—Judas’ language—The police-
man's nectar—Explanation of the word Traifl'e—The
two mistresses—The man who arrests himself—Con-
tent gives wings—The new Epictetus—A monologue
—Despairing incredulity—Change from a tilbury to
wooden shoes—A tradition—The mistress of a Russian
prince—Brown bread and the tit-bits of Tortoni—Mo-
ther Bariole—-The old seraglio, or the hell of a. kept
woman—Prostitutes and haokney-coach horses—T he
friend of all the world—The invulnerable—The picture
of the Sabines—The holy arch—The money-box—
Infandum rcgina jubes—Hatred to epsulettes—Good
sentiments—A strange religion—The lottery ticket
and the ofi‘ering to Sainte-Geneviéve—Example of re-
markable fidelity—Penelope—The oath—I know the
beautiful mask—Journey through Paris—Louison la
Blagueuse—The monster—A fury—Cruel duty—-
Emilie in the guard-house—Return to Bariole’s—The
friend's bottle—The Sybil’s tripod—Philemon and
Bands—Josephine Real, or the fruits of a good educa-
tion—Philosophical reflections on concord and death—
Tliree arrests-The traitor punished—A trait of active
morality—A liberation—Answer to critics ..... . . . . .
Page
90


CONTENTS.v
CHAPTER XXXIX.
I am fearful of my own renown—The approach ofa
Page
grand féte—The classes of robbers—The rouletlers at .
the last gasp—A deluge of denunciations—I am nearly
caught—The mattress, the false keys, and the crow-
bar—The revengeful confession—The terrible Limodia
-The mania for turning spy—The female thief who
denounces herself—The good son—The unlucky fugi-
tive—The twelfth-night king and queen—The trea-
cherous kiss—The difficult-y overcome—The washer-
woman’s basket—The stolen child—The umbrella
which affords n0 shelter—The modern Sappho—Liberty
is not the first of blessings—T he inseparables—The
heroism of friendship—Vice has its virtues. . . . .. .. .
CHAPTER XL.
Our friends our enemies—The jeweller and the clergy-
man—The honest man—The hiding place and the
cofl'er—The blessing from heaven and the finger of
God—Fatal intelligence—We are undone—The love
of our neighbour—The Cossacks are innocent—100,000
francs, 50,000 francs, 10,000 francs, or recompense in
abatement—The false'soldier—The pretended sprain
—'l‘ he cooper’s wife at Livry—Local reputation—
121
I am a Jew—My pilgrimage with the nun of Dour- -
dams—The phoenix of women—My metamorphosis
into a German servant—My arrest—I am imprisoned
_The straw cutter—My entrance to prison—Strangers
have friends every where—The church rat—The flesh-
coloured coat —The buttons of my great coat—A
drunkard's meaning—My history—The battle of Mon-
tereau—I have rubbed my master—Projects of escape
—Journey to Germany—The black hen—Confidence


CONTENTS.
in the attorney-general—My release—Flight with an
unfortunate companion—A hundred thousand crowns
worth of diamonds—The minimum . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER XLI.
The stolen looking-glasses—A fine young man—My four
trades—The connoisseur—The Turk who had sold his
odalisques—No accomplices—General Boucher—The
inconvenience of good wines-The little Saint Jean—
The soundest sleeper in France—The grand uniform,
and the bank notes—The credulity of a fence..-
Twenty-five thousand francs burnt—The meddler—-
Capture of twenty-two thieves—The adorable cavalier
—The father of all the world—What it is to be know-
ing—The Lovelace—The almoner of the regiment-—
Surprise at the (Jafé Hardi—The Anacreon of the gal-
leys—Another little song—I go to the Tuileries—A
great lord—The director of the police of the Chateau—
Explanations on the subject of the assassination of the
Due de Berri—The giant of robbers—Appear and dis-
appear—A scene by Madame de Genlis—I am ac-
coucheur—Synonymes—The mother and child are
well—A matter of form—Baptism—No sugar plums
—My gossip at St. Lazare—A suicide—The thieves’
alley—The dangerous doctor—Fear benefits—l see
old friends—A dinner at Capucin—The trap, the B0-
hémiens—An exploit at a d-uchess’s—l recover the
property—Two mountains never meet —The moral
hump-backed lady—The fair of Versailles—The dis-
turbed rest of a milliner—The bug bites and bug hunts
—-Love and tyranny—The window and the green cur-
tain—Scenes ofjealousy—I vanish . . . .. . . .
Page
144
158


CONTENTS. [I
CHAPTER XL".
Page
Thejolly butcher—A still tongue shows a wise head—
The harmlessness of light wines—A murder—The ma-
gistrates of Corbeil—The removal of the body—The
accusing address—Tis either he, or his brother—The
criminating wound—l hit upon the right man—The
mark of Cain—The morning’s alarm—Arrest of a sus-
pected pair—One culprit taken—A second sought
after—he is accused of being a liberaL-The goguettes,
or the bards of the Quai du Nerd—A pretext—Sedi-
tious songse—I become an assistant in the kitchen—
Genuine wine—The man of principle-—-A removal to
the prefecture—Confession—Resurrection of a. dealer
in poultry, &c.—A scene of somnambulism—The
guilty parties confronted—Habemu: confitenles reas—
A friendly embrace—A supper unde'l' lock and key——
Departure from Paris ......... '. . . . . . . . ........ 194
CHAPTER XLIII.
Arrival at Corbeil—Popular legends—A crowd—The
gossips — Good company—Poulailler and Captain
Picord—A disgust for grandeur—The dealer in turkeys
—General Beaufort—Public opinion of myself—Ex-
treme terror of a sous préfet—Assassins and their
victim—Repentance—Another supper—Place the
knives—Important discoveries, &c. &c.. . .. . . . . . ., . 218
CHAPTER XLIV.
A journey to the frontiers—A robber—Mother Bardou—
Assisted by a child—A deliberation—I address the
object of my search—A feigned recognition—A plea-
sant fellow—The two make a pair—The false smuggler


xii CONTENTS.
Page
—-False advice—A brigand astonished—We should
not tempt the devil—l deliver the country from a
scourge—Hercules with 'the skin of a bear—A great
devourer of tobacco ................ . .......... 232
CHAPTER XLV.
A visit to Versailles—Great talking and little doing——
Resignation—A criminal’s agony—We make our own
fate—The sleep of a. murderen—New converts—They
invite me to witness their execution—Reflections on a
gold box—A Supreme Being—Nothing to be ashamed
of—The fatal hour—We shall meet again—The Car-
line—The crucifixes—l embrace two death’s heads—
The spirit of vengeance—A last adieu—Eternin . . . . '242


MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ.
CHAPTER XXXII.
M. de Sartlues and M. Lenoir—The thieves before the Revolution-—
The ocrnpation of a lieutenant-general of police—Formerly and
now—The dumb pupils of the abbé Sicard and the outpurses-—'l‘he
death of Cartouche—Robbers formerly agents of police—The volun-
tary enrolments and colonial battalions—The hump-backed made
straight, and the lame made to walk—~The celebrated Flambard and
the beautiful JewesséHis-tory of a chautfeur become spy; his ad-
vancement in the Parisian national guard—It is compatible to be a
triot and a prizger—I trip Gafi'ré—The best friends in the World—
mistrust myself—Two hours at Saint-Roch—I have no e es in my
pocket—An old man in an embarrassment—The spoils o the faith-
u — Thief and spy two trades too many—The danger of passing
before a carp: de yards—Another trip for Gafiré—Goupil takes me
for a dentist—An attitude.
I KNOW not what species of individuals they were
whom MM. de Sartines and Lenoir employed to cou~
stitute the police, but I know very well that under their
administration thieves were privileged, and there were
a great number of them in Paris. Monsieur the
lieutenant-general took little care about checking their
enterprises, that was not his business; he was not sorry
to know them, and from time to time, when he found
them to be clever, he amused himself with them.
If a stranger of distinction came to the capital, M.
the lieutenant-general soon set the most expert robbers
to work upon him, and an honourable recompense was
promised to him amongst them who should be suffi-
ciently skilful to rob him of his watch or any valuable
trinket. ‘ |
VOL. m. n '


umtoms OF vroocq. 3
without compromising themselves, admit them into
their society. I have read, in the memoirs (f the reign
of Louis XV. that they besought them “ to give them
an evening,” as, in our time, we pray, cash in Land, for a
similar favour from M. Comte, the celebrated Preatidi-
gitateur (sleight-of-hand man), or some first rate prima.
donna of the Opera.
More than once, at the solicitation of a duchess, a
renowned robber was released from the cells of Bicétre;
and if, when put to the proof, his talents equalled the ut-
most expectation which the lady had formed of them, it
was seldom that M. the lieutenant-general (whether to
keep up his credit or to aid his gallantry) refused freedom
to so valuable amember of society. At a period in
which there were pardons and lettres de cachet in
every person’s pocket, the gravity of a magistrate, how-
ever severe, was not opposed to the knavery of a
scoundrel, if he were at all comical or adroit. As soon
as he had excited admiration or astonishment he was
pardoned. Our ancestors were indulgent and much more
easily amused than ourselves ; they were also much
more simple and much more candid; this is no doubt
the reason why they thought so much of whatever was
neither simple nor candid. In their eyes, a man who
for his exploits was condemned to the wheel, was the
ne plat; ultra of all that was admirable, they felicitated,
they exalted, they loved him, and related or listened
with pleasure to the relation of his deeds of prowess.
Poor Cartonche, when he was led to the Greve (place
of execution) all the ladies of the court shed tears-,—-it
was a perfect desolation.
Under the ancien régime, the police had not thought
of all the benefits they might reap from robbers ; it
only considered them as a species of amusement; and
it was only at a subsequent period that a plan was
devised for placing in their hands a portion of the
charge of watching for the common security. Naturally
the preference was due to the most famous robbers,
because they were most probably the most intelligent.
B 2


4 mmroms or vrnocq.
Some were selected as private agents: they were not
required to give up their lucrative profession of plun-
dering, but only expected to denounce their comrades
who seconded them in these expeditions : on these
terms, they were to remain possessors of all the booty
they obtained, and never brought to justice for the
crimes in which they had participated. Such were the
conditional agreements made by the police ; as to salary
they had none, it was a sufficient favour to be allowed to
give themselves up to rapine with impunity. This im-
punity was only terminated by the commission of some
flagrant crime, when the judicial authority intervened,
which was but rare.
For along period none were admitted to the police
of safety but robbers not sentenced or liberated : about
the year six of the Republic, a certain number of fu-
gitive galley-slaves were added, who solicited the em-
ployment of secret agents, whereby they could support
themselves in the metropolis. They were edgetools
to handle, and, as such, used with much distrust; and the
moment they ceased to be useful, they were got rid of.
They usually set some other agent to watch them, who,
leading them on by false manoeuvres, compromised
them, and thus furnished a pretext for their arrest.
The Richards, Cliquets, Mouille-Farine, Beaumonts,
and many others who had been police spies, were all
conducted again to the Hague, where they terminated
their narcel', broken down by the ill usage of their an-
cient companions whom they had betrayed; again, it
was customary for agent to plot against agent, and the
most crafty was left in possession of the field.
A hundred of these individuals, whom I have already
cited, Compere, Cesar Viocque, Longueville, Simon,
Bouthey, Goupil, Coco-Lacour, Henri Lami, Doré,
Guillet, called Bombance, Cadet Pomrné, Mingot, Da-
lisson, Edouard Goreau, Isaac, Mayer, Cavin, Bernard
Lazarre, Lanlaire, Florentin, Cadet, Herries, Gafi‘ré,
Manigant, N azory Levesque, Bordarie, were, in a mea-
sure, the purveyors to the prisons, to which they sent


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 5
each other by turns, mutually accusing each other, and
certainly not unjustly; for they all robbed, and they
were all privy to the deeds each performed: for how
could they have lived without robbery, as the police
allowed them nothing for subsistence?
In the beginning those robbers, who wished to have
two strings to their bow, were very few in number;
the reception given by the other prisoners to any one
that had turned nose, (informer,) was a cause why the
numbers did not increase. To suppose that they were
actuated by any feeling of loyalty, would be to form a.
wrong estimate of these robbers: if the majority of
them did not denounce others, it was from a fear of as-
sassination. But it was with this dread as with the
apprehension of every danger which must be faced,
it gradually disappeared. At a later period the neces-
sity of escaping the arbitrary power with which the po-
lice was armed, contributed to render the custom of
informations more common amongst the robbers.
When, without any other form of process, and only
because it was the gracious pleasure of the police, they
put into the stone jug (prison) the individuals re-
puted incorrigible robbers, (a ridiculous denomination
in a country in which nothing was ever tried to amend
them,) many of these wretched beings, worn out by a
detention which had no prospect of termination, de-
vised a singular expedient for obtaining their liberty.
These incorrigibles were also in their generation in
some way suspected: reduced to a state which made
them even envy the fate of the condemned, since they
were at least freed at the expiration of their sentence;
that they might be brought to trial they resolved to
have themselves denounced for some petty robbery
which they had oftentimes never committed; sometimes
the crime for which they wished to be betrayed was
allowed to them for a small payment by their comrade
the denouncer, and happy even they who, had crimes
to sell! They emptied more than one can at the tap-
room to the health of the deer of their crime. It Was
a
a 3


6 MEMOle or vmocq
a lucky day for the voluntary de'nonot when he was
led from Bicétre to La Force, but not so fortunate as that
in which, when led before the judge, he heard the sen-
tence pronounced, by virtue of which his term of incar-
ceration was limited to a few months only. This‘period
having elapsed, his liberation, which he awaite with
the utmost impatience, was at length announced to
him ; but between the two gates tipstafi's were placed,
who seized on his person; and he fell, as before, under
the jurisdiction of the préfet of police, who sent him
again to Bicétre for an indefinite term.
The women were not better treated, and the prison
of St. Lazare was crammed with these unfortunates,
whom illegal rigour reduced to despair.
The préfet was never tired with these incarcerations;
but a moment did arrive, when, from absolute want of
room, it was necessary to think of thinning the dun-
geons, those at least in which the prisoners were lite-
rally Cpiled in heaps. He, in consequence, had it sug-
geste to these “ incorrigibles,” that it depended on them-
selves to put a termination to their captivity, and that
they would deliver immediately lines of route to all
those who would volunteer into the colonial battalions,
All were persuaded that they were to be allowed to
Join freely : it had been promised them ; but what was
their surprise, when the gendarmerie appeared to con-
duct them in separate brigades to their point of desti-
nation. Thenceforward the prisoners did not appear -
over anxious to put on the uniform; the préfet, per-
ceiving that their zeal had marvellously cooled, ordered
the gaoler to solicit them to enter, and if they would
not, to have recourse to compulsory measures. It may
be relied on that a jailor, under such circumstances,
would even exceed his orders. He of the Bicétre
not only solicited the prisoners who were in health, but
even those who were not so ; no infirmity, however se-
vere, was a ground of exemption in his eyes: they Were
all fitting,in his opinion,—hump-backed, one-eyed,lame,
and old. In vain did they remonstrate ; the pre’fet had


MEMOIRS or vtnocq. 7
decided that they were soldiers, and, willing or unwill-
ing, they were transported to the isles of ()leron or lté,
Where officers, selected from amongst the most brutal
in the army, treated them like negroes. ' The atrocity
of this measure was the cause that many young men,
who would not submit to such treatment, offered them-
selves to the police as auxiliaries: Coco-Lacour was
one of the first to try this path of safety, the only one
open to him. At first, some difficulties were raised
against his admission ; but at length, ersuaded that a
man who had dwelt amongst robbers rom his earliest
infancy would be an admirable acquisition, the préfet
consented to enrol him amongst the secret agents.
Lacour made a formal engagement to become an honest
man, but could he keep such an undertaking? He
was without pay, and when the appetite is keen, the
stomach sometimes prevails over the conscience.
To be a spy without. pay, what a situation! it is to be
aspy and thief at the same time ; and thus, the evidence
of the necessity established against the secret agents
8 prejudice which always told against them, whether
innocent or guilty. Ifa brigand, to be revenged upon
them, should determine to inculpate them as his accom-
' The colonial battalions, at a period when France had no
colonies, were destined to be the scum of our land force. The
otiicers were almost all swindlers and cheats, dishonoured
from misconduct, and rather intended to carry a constable’s
Stad than a soldier's sword. W'hen imperial despotism existed
in all its vigour, the colonial battalions recruited amongst a
Crowd of respectable citizens, military or otherwise, whom
Fouché, Rovigo, Clarke, &c. immolated to their caprices, or
those ofthe master whose slaves they were. Generals. colonels,
adjntant-commanders, magistrates, and priests, were used as
Common soldiers in the isles of Re and Oleron. The police
had united in this exile royalistS and patriots with grey hairs,
_Who were compelled to submit to the same discipline as the
incorrigible robbers. The Commandant Latapie made them
march side by side without distinction.


8 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
plices, with or without proof it was impossible for
them to clear themselves.
I could state a volume of circumstances, in which,
although strangers to the crimes with which they are
charged, secret agents have been condemned by the
tribunals, but I shall confine myself to the two follow-
ing facts.
M. Hémart, the first president, went into the country ;
on alighting from his carriage, he saw that the port-
manteau containing his pro erty was carried ofl'. En-
raged with the authors 0 this deed he determined
to use all means to detect them, and bring down on
their heads all the severity of the laws. They had only
incurred a correctional punishment, but M. Hémart
could not resolve on considering as a simple larceny
a robbery which was effected to his individual loss;
chastisement would be too lenient, it was a crime
which he wished to make it, and, with this intent, be pre-
sented a petition to the chief judge, that he might decide
the question, if the breaking Open after committing the
robbery did not constitute an aggravation of the case ?
M. Hémart sought an affirmative decision, and as he
desired so was the judge’s sentence. Thereupon the rob-
bers, whose audacity had roused the anger of the presi-
dent, were discovered and apprehended. They had been
found with the property, and it was difficult to deny
'it; but they suspected an old pal of having denounced
them, named Bonnet, a secret agent; they pointed him
out as their accomplice, and Bonnet, although innocent,
was sentenced with them to twelve years’ imprisonment
and fetters.
At a subsequent period two other secret agents,
Herrioz the younger, and Ledran, his brother-in-law,
had stolen some portrnanteaus, and having emptied
them to divide the spoil, deposited them with two col_
leagues, Tormel the father and son, who, afterwards
denounced by them, were tried and convicted of a rob-
bery of which the perpetrators alone had the booty.
Whether at the Btcetre or La Force, not a day arrived


MEMOXRS or vruocq. 9
that I did not see some of these worthies arrive, and
hear them mutually reproach each other with their bad
conduct. From morn till eve these supernumerary
spies were quarrelling, and their violent debates un-
folded to me how perilous was the path which I had
chalked out for myself. But I did not despair of
avoiding the dangers of the profession, and all the mis-
haps of which I was witness were so many examples
to me, from which I formed my own line of conduct,
which would render my fate less precarious than that
of my predecessors.
In the second volume of these memoirs I have spoken
of the Jew Gaffré, under whose control I was, in some
measure, placed at the moment of my entering the po-
lice. Gafl'ré was the only secret agent with a salary.
I was no sooner united with him than he tried to get
rid of me; I pretended not to see through his inten-
tion, and if he contemplated my destruction, I resolved,
on my side, to defeat his plans. I had a dangerous
game to play: Gafi‘ré was wily as a snake. When I
knew him he was called the high-priest of thieves. He
had begun at eight years of age, at eighteen he was
whipped and marked on the Place du Vieux-Marché,
at Rowen. His mother, who was mistress of the famous
Flambard, chief of the police in that city, had endea_
voured to save him: but although one of the hand-
somest Jewesses of her time, the magistrates would
grant nothing to her charms: Gatfré was too culpable;
Venus in person could not have prevailed upon his
judges. He was banished. However, he did not quit
France, and when the revolution burst forth, he was nct
slow in resuming the old course of his exploits in a
band of chauffeurs, amongst whom he figured under
the name of Caille.
Like the majority of his confederates, Gafi‘ré hadv
completed his education in the prisons, and then he
had become an universal genius, that is to say, there
was no species of prigging in which he was not
fully expert. Contrary to custom, he adopted no special


lO manorns or vrnocq.
or peculiar line of conduct; he was essentially the
man of the moment; nothing came amiss to him,
from cutting a weasand, to drawing a wipe (assassi-
nation to pocket-picking). This general aptitude, this
variety of contrivance, had enabled him to amass a small
sum. He had, as they say, shot in the locker, and
could live without working; but people of Gatfré's
profession are industrious, and although he was libe-
rally paid by the police, he kept on adding to his accu~
mutations the produce of some unlawful exactions,
which did not prevent him from being much considered
in his quarter, (then the Martin,) when, with his acolyte
Francfort, another Jew, he had been named captain of
the national guard.
Gatfrc’ was afraid that I should sup lant him, but
the old fox was not cunning enough to hide his a(ppre-
hensions; I watched him, and was not slow in isco-
vering that he was manoeuvring to get me into a snare,
I appeared to be blindly led by him, and he chuckled
internally at his anticipated victory; when, wishing to
catch me in a plot which I saw through, he was himseli
taken in the net, and in the end shut up for eight
months in the depot.
I never allowed Gafl'ré to surmise that I had sus-
pected his treachery, and he continued to dissemhle the
hatred which he bore towards me, and that so well,
that we were apparently the best friends in the world.
I was on the same terms with many robbers who were
secret agents, and with whom I had associated during
my detention. These latter detested me heartily, and
although we kept smiling countenances towards each
other, they flattered themselves that they should pay
me off some day. Goupil, the Saint George of pugilism,
was amongst those who afforded me their friendship,
and, constantly attached to my person, filled the office
of tempter; but he was not more fortunate nor more
adroit than Gaffré. Compere, Manigant, Corvet, Bou-
they, Leloutre also tried to catch me tripping: but I
was invulnerable, thanks to the advice of M. Henry.


memoras or vrnoco. ll
Gatl'ré having recovered his liberty, did not renounce
his design of mining me. With Manigant and Com-
pere be plotted' to get me condemned ; but, persuaded
that having once defeated him he would not leave me,
but return to the charge with vigour, I was incessantly
on my guard. I awaited him firmly, when one day
that a religious solemnity had attracted a vast crowd to
Saint Roch, he announced to me that he had orders to
attend there with me. “I shall take Compere and
Manigant with us,” he added, “ as we learn that at
this moment there are many strange robbers in Paris,
and they will point out to us all they know.” “ Take
whom you please,” I answered, and we set out. When
we reached our destination, there was a considerable
crowd ; the service we were upon did not require that
we should all unite at one point. Manigant and Game
went first. Suddenly, in the place they were, I re-
marked an old man, who, by being pressed against a
pillar, did not know where to put his head; he did not
cry out, from respect to the sacred place, but his whole
person was disarranged and his wig knocked awry;
be lost his footing; his hat, which fell off, and which he
anxiously followed with his eyes, was rolled from place
to place, sometimes from and sometimes towards him.
“ Gentlemen, I beseech you, I beg of you,” 'were
the only words which he pronounced in a most piteous
tone ; and holding in one hand a gold-headed cane
and in the other his snuff-box and pocket handkerchief,
he shook his hands in the air, as if he would have
reached the ceiling with them. I found he had lost his
watch, but what could I do? I was too far distant from
the old gentleman; besides, my advice would be too
late ; and then GatTré, was he not also a witness of the
scene? and although he said nothing, he doubtless had
some motive for it. I adopted the wisest plan, and
was silent to see what would ensue, and during the
Space of two hours, the duration of the ceremony, I had
an opportunity of observing five or six of these concerted
squeezes, and saw Gatfré and Manigant always in


12 mamorns or vmocq.
them. The latter, who is now in the Bagne at Brest,
under a sentence of twelve years’ fetters, was at this
period the most expert pick-pocket in the capital ; he
excelled in extracting the money from aperson's pocket
and transferring it into his own; with him the transmu-
tation of metals was reduced to a simple displacing,
which he effected with incredible talent.
The short stay in the church of St. Roch was not
particularly‘productive; however, without including the
oid man’s watch, he had stolen two purses and some
other articles of value.
After the ceremony had terminated, we went to dine
at a coffee-house; the worthies paid the expenses, and
nothing was spared; we drank deeply, and at the
dessert they confided to me what I could not fail to have
known. At first they only mentioned the purses, in
which they found a hundred and seventy-five francs in
hard cash. The bill paid, there remained a surplus of
one hundred francs, of which they handed me over
twenty as my portion, counselling me to be silent and
discreet. As money has no name, I thought there was
no reason for a refusal.
The party appeared enchanted at having thus ini-
tiated me, and two flasks of Beaune were emptied to
celebrate the occasion. No mention was made of the
watch, nor didI allude to it; not only that I might
appear ignorant of it, butI was also all eyes and
ears, and was not slow in learning that it was in Gafl'ré’s
possession. I then began to assume the appearance
of a drunken man, and shamming a call of necessity,
I desired the waiter to lead-me where I wished to
go. He conducted me out, and when alone I wrote
with a pencil this note :—
“ Gaffré and Manigant have just stolen a watch in
the church of Saint Roch; in an hour, unless they
change their intention, they will cross the market of
St. Jean. Gaffré carries the spoil.”
I hastily descended, and whilst_ Gafi‘ré and his
confederate thought me engaged up five pair of stairs,


nrrorns or vinocq. 18 '
Igot into the street and despatched a messenger to M.
Henry. I went back again without loss of time, and
my absence had not been of long duration. When I
enteredI was out of breath, and as red as a turkey
cock. They asked me ifI felt better!
“Yes, a great deal," I stammered out, and falling
nearly under the table.
“Steady boys, steady," says Manigant.
“ He sees double,” observed Gafl‘ré.
“He is done up,” added Compere, “ quite done up,
but the air will revive him."
They gave me some sugar and water. “ Go
l0 T” I cried out, “ What! water for me, water for
me "
“ Yes, it will do you good."
“ Do you think so ?"
I extended my hand, but instead of seizing the glass
I upset and broke it. I then played a few silly drunken
tricks which amused the party, and when I judged that
M. Henry had received my despatch, and taken mea-
sures accordingly, I insensibly came to myself.
On going out, I saw with pleasure that our route was
not changed. \Ve went towards the market of St.
Jean, and there saw a file of soldiers. When I saw
them sitting at the door, I did not doubt but that they
were there in consequence of my message, and the
less so as I observed Ménager the inspector following
US. When we passed they approached us, and, taking
Us politely by the arm, invited us to enter the guard-
house. Gafi'ré could not imagine what this meant, but
lupposed the soldiers were in error. He wished to
argue the point. They desired him to obey, and he
was com elled quietly to submit. They began with
1118, but ibund nothing; when it came to Galfré‘s turn
be was not at all easy. At length the fatal watch was
Produced from his fob: he was a little disconcerted,
but at the moment of his examination, and particularly
When he heard the commissary say, “ Write: a watch
act with brilliant:,” he turned pale and looked at me.
voL. 111. c


l4 narrows or' vrnocq.
Had be any suspicion of what had passed? I do not
think so, for he was convinced that I did not know of
the robbery of the watch; and, besides, he was sure
that, if I had known it, as I had not left them, I could
not have turned nose.
Gafiré, on being questioned, pretended that he had
bought the watch; they were persuaded that this was
a lie, but the person who was robbed not being present
to claim his property, it was not possible to condemn
it. He was, however, confined for a time in Bicétre,
and then sent under surveillance to Tours, whence at
a. later period he returned to Paris. This villain died
there in 1822.
At this period, the police had so little confidence in
their agents, that there was no kind of expedient to
which they had not recourse to prove them. One day
Goupil was let loose upon me, and came with a singular
proposal.
“ You know Francois, the publican,” said he to me.
“ Yes, and what of that l" i -_
“ If you will help me, we will draw a tooth or two
from him.” ‘
“ How?”
“ Why he has very frequently addressed the prefec-
ture, to obtain permission to keep open house during
part of the night, which request has always been de@
nied ; and I have given him to understand that it only
depends on you to procure what he is so anxious to
have."
“ You are wrong, for I can do nothing.”
“ You can do nothing! very true, certainly! Oh you
can do nothing, but you can buoy him up with the
hope that you can do it.”
“ Thatis true, but wherein would be the benefit tohiru T”
“ Say the benefit to us. Francois, if well managed,
would bleed well. He is already told that you are the
man who is ‘ all in all’ in the administration : he
has a good opinion of you, and so no doubt he will tip
freely on the first requisition.”


unmoms or VlDOCQ l5
“ Do you think he will part with the blunt s,"
“ I am sure, my boy, he will shell out six hundred
francs as easily as a penny; we shall handle the ready,
that is the main thing, and we can afterwards leave him
to his reflections."
“ Well, but he will be enraged."
“ Never mind, let him do his worst; but give your-
self no tronble, I will provide for all. No black and
white work (writing) mind; you know the proverb,
‘ Writings are men, words but women.‘ ”
“ True as gospel; no receipt for cash in hand, and
yet we can safely pocket."
“ Certainly, he who sows should reap; and no la-
bour no profit. Meanwhile I will go and see how the
land lies, and sound the old boy."
Goupil then took my hand, and, shaking it heartily,
added, “ i am now going straight to Francois, I will
tell him you will call in the evening; I shall fix the hour
for eight o'clock, but do not you come till eleven,
because (as you must say) you will have been delayed;
at midnight we shall be told to go out, you must appear
to comply with this formality, and Francois will seize
the opportunity of urging his request. You are aman
of experience, and know how to play your cards. Fare-
well for the present.”
“ Adieu," I replied,‘ and we separated. Scarcely,
however, had we turned our backs on each other than
Goupil returned.
“ Oh !" said he, “you know that very frequently
the feathers are more valuable than the bird; I want a
pluck at the feathers, otherwise ” and he as—
sumed a eculiar attitude, opening his enormous
mouth, hol ing his hands about six inches from the
ground, as if he was about to scrape the pavement, and
completing the menace by drawing back his body and
advancing his legs, in which the mobility of his feet
were not the least comical part of his attitude.
“ All's right,” said I to Goupil, “ you shall not
swallow me. We will divide,--it is a bargain."
4v
c 2


16 memoms 0F vmoco.
“ On the word of a thief."
“ Yes, make yourself easy.” '
Gou il immediately took the road to the Courtille,
where he very frequentlywent, and I that of the prefec-
ture of police, when I informed M. Henry of the pro-
posal made to me. “ I hope,” said he, “ that you will
not lend yourself to the plot.” I protested that I was
not at all inclined to do so, and he evinced his pleasure
at my free communication. “ Now,” he added, “ I
will give you a proofof the interest that [take in you ;”
and he arose to reach from his chest a packet of papers,
which he opened. “You see it is full, and they are
all reports against you: they are in abundance, but
yet I employ you, because I do not believe one word
of what they say.”
These reports were the production of the inspectors
and peace officers, who, through a spirit of jealousy,
continually accused me of robbery. That was the
burden of their song, as well as that of the robbers whom
I had detected in the very act: they denounced me as
their accomplice, but when I was on every side ex.
posed to unfavourable representations, I defied calumuy,
braved its assaults, and its teeth were broken against
the brazen buckler of truth, which, by the means of
incontestable alibis, or impossibilities of another nature,
became resplendent by the evidence of facts. Accused
daily for sixteen years, I was never betrayed by it:
once only I was interrogated by M. Vigny the judge.
The complaint laid before him had some colouring of
truth, but I had only to appear before him and the
whole was proved false, and I was instantly freed from
all suspicion.


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. [7
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The biter bit—Provocation—Wolves, lambs, and robbers—My profes-
sinn of faith—17w band of Vidocq and the old man of the mountain
—No morality in the police—My calumniated agents—“ A cut in
gloves catches no mice"—The fishing rod—Put on gloves—Desplan-
ques, or the love of independence: or where the devil has he laid
himself ?—The regulation of KM. Delsveau and Du lessis—The
movable roulette tables and the .ultra philanthropist—I’m r man-
ners, proper bearing, proper studies—Long and short gowned esuits—
The reign of under petticonts—Obstinacy of robbers called reformed—
Coco-Imour. and an old friend—Custigat ridendo mores.
Gut-“mi and Goupil having failed in their plans for my
destruction, Corvet resolved to try his success in the
same way. One morning, when I was in want of some
particular information, I went to the house of this agent,
whose wife was also attached to the police. I found
both man and wife at their lodging, and although I
only knew them from having once or twice cooperated
with them in some unimportant discoveries, they gave
me the information I required with so much good will,
that, like a man who has the feelings of good fellowship
towards those with whom he is associated, I oflered to
regale them with a bottle of wine at the nearest cabaret.
Corvet alone accepted the proffer, and we went together
and seated ourselves in a private room.
The wine was excellent; we drank one, two, three
bottles. A private room and three bottles of wine leads
on to confidence. About an hour afterwards, I thought
I perceived that Corvet had some proposal to make,
and at length he somewhat suddenly said, “ Listen,
Vidocq, (and he knocked his glass on the table with
some emphasis,) you are a jolly lad, but you are not
Open amongst friends; we know well enough that
you are a fellow workman, but you're a deep file : we
two might do a fine stroke of business."
I pretended not to comprehend him.
“ Nonsense, come, come," he replied, “ no gammon,
that will not go down with me, I know you are a
‘ c 3


18 msmoms or VIDOCQ.
cunning fellow although I don’t know your place of work
I will speak to you as I would to my own brother, if I
think I may depend upon you, It is all very well to
serve the police, but there is nothing to be made out 0|
it, and a crown changed is a crown spent and gone.
Now if you will keep counsel, there is a job or two
which I have in my eye which we will do together,
and which will not hinder us from doing our friends a
good turn.”
“ How," said I, “ would you abuse the confidence
placed in you? that is not right, and I am sure that if it
were known at the prefecture they would give you two
or three years of it at Bicetre.”
“ Ah ! you are like all the rest,” replied Corvet, “ you
are going to be mealy-mouthed and squeamish; you
are delicate, are you ; come, come, we know one
another.
I testified much astonishment at his holding such
language to me, and added that I was fully persuaded
that he only said so to try me, or perhaps lay a snare
for me. I
“ A snare l” cried he, “ a snare! I bring you into
trouble, I had rather put my own neck in jeopardy;
you must be mad to suppose it. I do not beat about
the bush; when I say anything it is blunt and straight-
forward ; with me there is no back door, and asa proor
that all is not as you believe, I will tell you that no
later than this evening I am going to work. I have
already laid my plan, the keys are made, and if you
will come with me, you shall see how I will do the job."
“ I doubt you have either lost your senses, or you
wish to entangle me in your net."
“ What, do you not give me any credit for better
feelings? (Elevating his voice.) I tell you then you
shall not have a finger in the pie. What more would
you have? I shall take my wife with me, it will not
be the first time, but it will be the last if you choose
to make it so. With two men there is always a resource
at hand. The business of to-day regards you nothing ;


menoms or vrnocq. 19
you will wait for us in the coffee-house at the corner of
the Rue de la Tabletterie. It is almost facing where
we are going to work, and as soon as you see us come
out do you follow; we will sell the booty, and we will
go snacks. After that you will no longer distrust us.
What think you 2”
There was so much appearance of sincerity in this
discourse, that I really hardly knew how to act with
Corvet. Did he want an accomplice, or did he seek a
means of destroying me? I have still my doubts on
this point; but in either case Corvet was a manifest
rogue.
By his own confession, his wife and he committed
robberies. If he had spoken the truth, it was my duty
to deliver him up to justice; if, on the contrary, he had
lied, in the hope of entrapping me into a criminal action
to denounce me, it was only right to prosecute the plot
to its termination, that I might show to the authorities
that to tempt me was labour in vain.
I had endeavoured to dissuade Corvet from his de-
sign, but when I saw that he persisted,I feigned to
allow myself to be seduced.
“ Well then,” I said, “ since it must be so, I accept
the proposal.”
He instantly embraced me, and the rendezvous was
fixed for four o'clock, at a Vintner’s. Corvet returned
home, and as soon as he had left me I wrote to M.
Allemain, commissary of police, in the Rue Cimetiére
St. Nicolas, to inform him of the robbery which was
to be perpetrated in the evening. I gave him, at the
same time, all the necessary information for seizing on
the culprits in the very commission of their crime.
I was at my post at the agreed hour; Corvet and his
wife Were not long after me, and after drinking a bottle-
or two of wine to cheer them in their work they pro-
ceeded on their enterprise. A moment afterwards,
and I saw them enter a court-yard in the Rue de la
Haumerie. The commissary had so well contrived
that he apprehended the two at the moment when,laden


20 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
with booty, they left the apartment they had ransacked.
This couple were condemned to ten years’ confinement.
During the trial Corvet and his wife asserted that I
had tempted them to the robbery. Certainly in the
line I had pursued, there was nothing that could be
construed into such a temptation ; besides in a robbery
I do not see how there can be any provocation possi-
ble. A man is honest or he is not : if he be honest, no
consideration can be sufiiciently powerful to determine
him on committing a crime: if he be not, he only wants
the opportunity, and is it not evident that it will offer
itself sooner or later?
And if this opportunity makes a rogue, may not the
robber become an assassin? Certainly he who labour:
to demoralize a frail being, and to inculcate pernicious
rinciples, for the horrid pleasure of ultimately deliver_
mg him up afterwards to the executioner, must be the
most infamous of scoundrels. But when a man is per-
verted, when he declares himself in a state of hostility
with his equals, to draw him intoa snare; to attract him
by hopes of booty which yet he is prevented from
gaining; to hold out to him the bait, which eventually
takes him ;-is not this rendering a real service to so-
ciety ? It is not the sheep. which is placed in the
wolf’s trap which creates his depredatory instinct. He
has the same inclination for robbing; he is predisposed
to the action, and the action will be infallibly accom-
plished; for, at one time or other, the robber will go
any lengths to perfect his crime. What is important
is, when an attempt is made and the authors detected,
the eye of the police is upon them, and the body of
society thus guarded and benefitted. In fact I see no
harm, but quite the reverse, in casting before the viper
the piece of cloth on which he may exhaust his venom.
In a large city like Paris, gangrened hearts are never
wanting, nor minds criminally perverted ; but every
robber who infests the metropolis has not the mark of
crime upon his brow. Some are skilfnl enough to go
on a long career of guilt before they are detected.


MBMOIRS or VlDOCQ. 21
They are culpable, and should be brought to justice and
convicted, that is to say, if taken with booty in hand.
Well, when individuals of this kind have been inted
out to me, whether because their connections an . habits
rendered them suspected, or because they led a free
life without any ostensible means of existence. to cut
short their exploits I held out a snare for them; and, I
confess it without shame, I did not make the least hesi-
tation in doing so. Robbers are persons whose nature
is to appropriate to themselves the property of another,
just as the wolves are voracious animals whose nature
is to attack the herds. We can scarcely confound the
Wolves with the lambs; but if it were possible that the
one was concealed in the skin of the other, would a
shepherd, when he saw the mark of their teeth, be to
blame, if, to prevent future attempts, he tempted the
veracity of all those whom he thought capable of biting?
We may be certain that the one that ites is the one
who has always been inclined to bite. If Corvet and
his wife have robbed, it is that already, by fact or in-
tent, they were robbers. On the other hand, I had
never provoked them; I had only simply adhered to
their proposition. It may be objected towards me, that
by threatening them I could prevent them from com-
mitting the robbery which they had premeditated; but
to threaten them was not to correct them : to-day they
might have abstained, to-morrow they would have car-
ried off a new booty: and certainly to have done so,
they would not have called for my aid. What would
have been the result? That the moral responsibility of
the crime committed would have fallen on me with all
its onus. And then if Corvet had any intention of
implicating me in an affair of the kind, with any kind
of promise from the préfet of police, after the event,
did not my own personal safety prescribe the necessity
of precaution, so as to undermine any trap which might
be laid to ensnare me, and thus defeat those who in-
vented and those who Were the agents of it. This was
the result I arrived at by denouncing Corvet to the


22 mzmoras or vrnocq
commissary of the quarter in which his operations were
to be carried on, instead of denouncing him to the pré-
fet. By following this plan, I was assured that if he
had been set on they would disavow it, and justice
would be done.
If I have insisted on the fact of provocation in this
affair, it is because it was the general assertion and
means of defence of the majority of those whom I was
the cause of apprehending in the actual commission of
robbery. We shall find, in the next chapter, that the
idea of resorting to so pitiful an excuse was often sug-
gested to them by my enemies. The recital of a plot
of four agents of my brigade, Utinet, Chrestien, Decos-
tard, and Coco-Lacour, will show how coutemptible
were the strongest imputations against me.
I will not here repeat what I have elsewhere said on
the provocation of political measures. The discontent,
legitimate or not, the superciliousness, the exasperation,
nay, the fanaticism, do not constitute a state of per-
verseness ; but they may produce a sort of momentary
blindness, under the influence of which the most ho-
nourable man, the most virtuous citizen, will be easily
misled. Captions reasonings, perfidious combinations,
an intrigue to which he has no clue, may lead him to
the abyss. Satan comes and carries him to the top of
a mountain, whence he shows him the kingdoms of the
world; he shows him the whole of a chimerical arse-
nal of armies, cannons, soldiers, and people ready to
rise against oppression. He seduces him by impossi-
bilities, and for impossibilities salutes him by the title of
liberator; and the wretch, whose imagination gives
birth to speculative ideas, thinks that he has at last
found a point of strength and a lever to shake the
world. Impelled by the most execrable of demons, he
dares to utter his dreams: hell has its witnesses, its
judges, and the delirium terminates at the scaffold's
foot : such is, in a few words, the history of the patriots
of 1816, excited by the infamous Schilkin. But let us
return to the “ brigade de shreté.”


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 28
Alter the formation of this brigade, the peace.oflicen
Ind their agents, who bore me no love, cried out,
“shame on't :” it was they who spread about the most
absurd tales of me; they coined the phrase of the
“band of Vidocq,” which was 'applied to the persons
composing the police of safety: they said that it con-
sisted' only of freed galleydslaves, or of skilful old pick-
pockets, who knew all the rigs of prigging a reader
or fogle.
" Can,” said they, “ such a man be allowed to have
such a band? Is it not placing at his control the life
and money of the citizens ?” At another time they com-
d me to the Old Man of the Mountain ; “ When
e likes he will cut all our throats," said the respectable
M.Yvrier; “has he not his Seids'! It is infamous;
in what times do we live l“ he added, “ there is no
morality, not even amongst the police." The worthy
old fellow, with his morality! But it was not that
which disquieted him ; these gentlemen, vulgarly called
peace-officers, would willingly have forgiven us for
string been at the galleys, if the préfet had not, when
he wished to detect or apprehend a robber, had more
reliance on us than on them. Our address and our err-
perieuce had the preference with the magistracy: and
thus, when it was shown to them that all their efforts to
effect my disgrace were useless, they changed their
batteries; they did not attack me more directly, but
they assailed my agents, and all the means possible of
making them odious to the authorities seemed good.
If a robbery were committed, either at the doors of the
theatre or within the walls, they drew up a report, and
the members of the terrible bri ade were designated as
the presumed authors of it. ’ t was the same every
time there was any large meeting, the peace-officers
did not allow one occasion to escape of attacking the
brigade. Not a cat was lost but they were accused of
the robbery.
Fatigued at ‘ast with these perpetual inculpation‘s,
Idetermined to put an end to them. To reduce these


2,4 manoms or VIDOCQ.
respectable gentlemen to silence,I could not cut off the
arms of my agents, for they were absolutely needful to
them: but to conciliate all, I told them that in future
they must constantly wear leather gloves, and I declared
that if I met any one of them ungloved I would in-
stantly dismiss him.
This entirely disconcerted the malevolents; hence-
forward it was impossible to reproach my agents for
working in the crowd. The peace-officers, who well
knew that the hand cannot act adroitly when covered,
kept their mouths closed, remembering the proverb, “ a
cat in gloves catches no mice." One morning I gave
this order to my agents as one which I had hit upon to
put a stop to all the tattle of which they were the object.
“ Gentlemen," said I, “they will no more credit your
probin than they will the chastity of priests. Well,
then, to prove how wrong they are, have thought
that nothing would be so natural as, in any case, to
paralyze the limb which is the instrument of sin; in
this instance, gentlemen, it is your hands; I know you
are incapable of making improlper use of them, but to
avoid a shadow of suspicion, expect that hencefor-
ward you will not appear abroad without gloves."
This precaution, I must say, was not called for by any
conduct of my agents, for no robber, or galley-slave,
whom I employed ever compromised himself as long
as he formed one of my brigade; some have fallen
again into evil ways, but their return to guilt was after
having been dismissed from my band. Knowing the
former course and situ‘ation of these men my power
p over them was arbitrarily exercised; to keep them to
their duty, a will of iron and most determined resolu-
tion was required. My ascendancy over them arose
from their not having any acquaintance with me pre-
vious to my entering into the police service 1' many had
seen me at La Force or Bicetre; but Ihad never been
otherwise than a brother prisoner, and I could defy them
to produce one affair in which I had participated, either
with others or with themselves.


nenroms or vroocq. 25
It must be stated that the majority of my agents were
freed convicts, whom I had myself apprehended when
they had been sinning against justice. At the expiry
of their sentence they came to beg me to enrol them,
and when I found them intelligent, I made use of them
in my brigade of safety. Once in the brigade they
became instantly reformed, but only in one particular,—
they robbed no more: as to the rest, they were always
debauched, addicted to wine, women, and play; many
of them lost their monthly pay at gaming instead of
paying their lodging, or the tailor who provided them
with clothes. In vain did I devise means of giving
them the least possible leisure, they always contrived
to find time enough to indulge in their vicious habits.
Compelled to devote eighteen hours per day to the
police they were less debauched than if they had been
entirely at leisure, but yet they committed various
follies, which, when they were but trifling, I usually
rWerlooked. To treat them with less indulgence would
have been to show my ignorance of the old adage,
which says, “it is impossible to stop the flow of the
river.” So long as their excesses were not connected
with their duties, I confined myself to a reprimand,
and those reprimands were frequently but so many
strokes of a sword in water, but yet sometimes, accord-
ing to the men I had to deal with, the due effect was
produced. Besides, all the agents under my orders were
persuaded that I watched them closely and incessantly;
and they were not mistaken, for I had my spies, and
through them learnt all they did: in fact, whether far
or near, I never lost sight of them, and any infraction
of the rules and regulations laid down for them was im-
mediately punished. What will appear surprising is,
that under every circumstance in which the service re-
quired it, these men, so ill disciplined in other
respects, conformed to my will, even when there was a
matter of danger to be performed. No man but my-
self, I may say, could have commanded equal devo-
tron.
VOIL- rrr. n


26 neurons or vroorzq.
I insert my regulations for the information of my
readers, who may see that without mingling in politics
I had occupation enough.
PBEFECTURE or Ponce.
Regulations for the private brigade de sfirete’.
Art. 1. “The private brigade de shreté is divided
into four detachments. Each of the agents command-
ing one detachment receives his instructions from his
chief, and he receives his orders of surveillance and
manoeuvre from the chief of the second division of the
prefecture of police ; with whom he must consult every
day, and whenever it may be necessary for the main-
tenance of order and the security of persons and pro-
perty. He shall make a return to him every morning
of the result of the surveillance of the preceding eve-
ning and night of his brigade, and every chief of a
detachment shall bring his private report.
2. “The private agents shall exercise a severe and
active surveillance to prevent olTences; they shall arrest,
as well on the public way as at the cabarets, and other
public places, persons escaped from fetters and prisons;
the freed galley-slaves who cannot show any permission
for residing in Paris; those who have been sent away
from the capital to their own homes, to remain there
under the surveillance of the local authorities, conform-
ably to the penal code, and who have returned to Paris
unauthorized ; as well as those apprehended in the very
act of robbery. They shall conduct these latter before
the commissary of police of the quarter, to whom they
shall make their report, to inform him of the reasons
for apprehending these suspected persons. In case
this public functionary should be absent, they shall
leave them at the nearest station, and carefully search
them in presence of the commandant then on duty,
that it may be correctly stated as to what property was
found upon them. They shall always ask of these sus‘
pected persons their abode, to verify subsequently, and '


MEMOIRS or vinocq. 27
in case of a false residence being given, they shall in-
form the commissary of police, who will testify con-
cerning the same. They shall point out also the wit-
nesses who may be heard, and of whom they shall take
care to procure the names and residences.
3. “The private agents can only confine in the stations
the individuals before mentioned. They shall not take
them thence without an order from the chief of the bri-
gade, to whom they must give an account of their
operations, or by virtue of a superior order.
4. “The police agents may not enter any private
house to apprehend a person suspected of crime with_
out being provided with an order, and without being
accompanied by a commissary of police, if there be a
search to be made in the house.
5. “The police agents must always walk alone, that
they may the more easily observe the persons assing
on the public way, and shall make occasional alts in
the most populous thoroughfares.
6. “Circumspection, veracity, and discretion, being
indispensable qualities for every police agent, any de-
fection in these will be severely punished.
7. “The police agents are prohibited, da or night,
from extending their surveillance to any ot er quarter
0f the city than that appointed for them by their chief,
unless some extraordinary event 'shall imperatively
summon them, and of which they shall give an exact
report.
8. “ The police agents are also forbidden from enter-
ing the cabarets and other public places, to sit at table
and drink with common women, or other individuals
who may compromise them. Those who tipple, have
secret and habitual connections with female thieves or
common women, or live with one of them, shall be
severely punished. _ _ t
9' 8‘ Gaming, being the vrce which most particularly
leads a man to commit base actions, is expressly for-
bidden to the police agents. Those who are found
D 2


28 mamoms or vrnocq.
playin for money in any place shall be instantly sus'
pende from their station.
10. “The police agents are required to give in to
their chief of brigade an account of how their time is
passed.
11. “ The first infringement of the regulations herein
laid down will be punished by a mulct of two days'
a : in case of a recurrence of the offence this mulct
shall be doubled, besides the addition of a severe
punishment should that be judged requisite.
12. “ The chief of the brigade is especially charged
to watch over the execution of these regulations. This
is also particularly recommended to the chiefs of de-
tachments who receive his orders, and should make
their reports daily, as to what they have done con-
formably therewith, as well as of those they may have
given to those agents under them.
“ Given at the prefecture of police. 1818.
“ The Minister of State and Préfet of Police.
(Signed) “ COMTE ANGLES."
“ By his Excellency, the Secretary-general of the
Prefecture.
(Signed) “ Fonrrs.”
Under M. Delaveau, I wished to add a few articles
to the above ; but the rigid préfet, who filled Paris and
the suburbs with his ambulatory roulette tables, refused
to give his sanction to a regulation which anathematized
gambling. I had also classed amongst the duties of
my agents, the right of sending away from the Quai
de l‘Ecole, the Champs Elysées, and all public places,
those herds of wretches, of all ranks and ages, who
abandon and prostitute themselves to a shameful and
disgusting purpose, which seems to have in some mea-
sure emigrated with the jesuits. I often begged for the
repression of these disorders, but Messrs. Delaveau
and Duplessis constantly turned a deaf ear to it; in


MEMOIRS OF vrnocq. 29
fact it was impossible for me to make them understand
that the law whicn punishes the offence against good
manners is applicable to these ultra philanthropists,
whenever they sin so grossly. I have not yet been able
to explain why such hideous depravities were in some
measure privileged ; erhaps there existed a sect who,
to detach itself from t e world on the one hand, and to
withhold itself from its most delicious influences, had
worn hatred to the loveliest half of the human species;
perhaps, like the society of homes lettres, and that of
bonnetémdea, they formed a society of bonnes minus—
jesuitical manners. I know nothing of it, but in a few
years the crime has made so much progress that I
counsel our ladies to be on their guard ; if it continue,
farewell to the empire of the petticoat, the long or
short gown; the jesuits only love their own.
I have generally found that amongst the members
Pomposing the brigade, those who went heart and hand
into its duties became at length tolerable members of
society, that is to say, that leaving one trade to enter
upon another, they pursued their path steadily. Those,
on the contrary, who did not go readin to work, fell~
into irregular habits, which invariably led to an unhappy
termination. I had particularly occasion to make
an observation of this nature with reference to a man
named Desplanques, who was my secretary.
This Desplanques was a Well-bred young fellow; he
had talent, good style in writing, was a fine penman,
and had several other qualifications which might have
ltd him to an honourable rank in the world. Unfor-
tunately he had an addiction to robbery, and to perfect
his disgrace he was most superlatively idle. He was a
robber with the soul of a pick-pocket, which is tanta-
mount to saying, that he was unfitting for anything re-
quiring assiduity and energy. As he was not punctual,
and acquitted himself very ill in his department, it
happened that I frequently scolded him: “ You are
always complaining of my negligence,” he replied,.
"with you one must be a slave: on my faith, I am
n 3


30 menoms or VIDOCQ.
not accustomed to be so used.” Desplanques had just
left the Bagne, where he had passed SIX years.
In admitting him into the brigade, I thought I had
made an admirable acquisition, but I was not slow in
being convinced that he was incorrigible, and I found
myself compelled to dismiss him. Being then without
resource, he betook himself to the only mode of ex-
istence which in such a situation can be reconciled with
the love of ease. Passing one evening through the Rue
du Bac, he broke a square of glass in a money changer’s
shop, and ran off with a wooden bowl full of mono .
At the same moment he heard a cry of “ stop thie ,"
and was warmly pursued. At the words “ stop, stop,”
ofiiciously repeated from all quarters, Desplanques
redoubled his speed, and would soon have been out of
reach, but at a turning in the street, he fell completely
into the arms of two agents, his old comrades: the
rencontre was fatal. He tried to escape, but his efforts
were useless; the agents fastened on him and dragged
him to the commissary, where the positive commission
was immediately sworn to. Desplanques was an old
offender, and condemned to the galleys for life: he is
now at Toulon, where he is undergoing his sentence.
People who judge of all without having any know-
ledge of individual facts, have asserted that agents
who have been originally robbers, must, necessarily,
have an understanding with them, or at least tem-
porize with them as long as they are sufficiently
adroit as not to expose themselves. I can attest that
robbers have no more cruel enemies than the freed
convicts who have assembled under the banner of the
police; and that they, following the usual examples
in such cases, never exert more zeal than when they are
serving a friend; that is to say, seeking to apprehend
an ex-comrade. In general, a robber who thinks himself
reformed is without pity for his ancient comrades; the
more he has been intrepid in his time, the rrore im-
placable he will be.
One day, Cerf, Macolein, and Dorlc' were brought


msmoms or vrnoco. 31
to the bureau charged with robbery. On seeing them,
Coco-Lacour, who had long been their companion and
intimate friend, was apparently overpowered with indig-
nation ; he rose and apostrophized Dorlé in these terms.
chotm. Well, sir, what are you still incorrigible?
DORLE. I do not understand you, M. Coco, with
your morality !
LACuUIt (in a rage.) Who do you call Coco? Learn
that that name is not mine; I call myself Lacour ; yes,
Lacour, do you hear?
DORLE. Ahl my God! I know it too well, you are
Lacour; but you have not, I dare say, forgotten that
when we were comrades you had no other name but
Coco, and all the friends you have call you by that
name, and no other. I say, Cerf, have you ever seen a
cocoa of such strength?
CERF (shrugging his shoulders.) There are no chil-
dren left, all the world is mingled, :nonsieur Lacour!
anorm. It is good, good, very good, other times,
other manners; castigat ridendo more: ; I know that
in my youth I may have committed some little venial
offences, but
Lacour tried to arrange some words, in which the
word honour was distinguishable ; but Dorlé who was
not in a humour to listen to his remonstrance, closed
his mouth by recalling to him all the various times
when they had worked together. A thousand times
Lacour has experienced disagreeables of this kind:
and if ever he reproached the robbers with their
tenacity for sticking to business, his good intentions were
always recompensed by similar impertinences.


3'2 MEMOIRS or vmocq.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
God bleu you I—The conciliabules—The inheritance of Alandep—
The rumours and pro ihecies—Grand conspiracy—Inquiry—Disco-
veries on the subject ofla Monaeigneur lo dau kin—I am innocent—
The fable often reproduced—The Plntarch o the literary pillar, and
Tiger the printer—The wonderful and well-authenticated history of
the famous Vidocq—His death in 1875.
Once attaining the p0st of chief of the police of safety,
I no longer cared for the snares with which they so
often sought to encompass me. The time of trial was
past; but still I was compelled to keep on my guard
against the base jealousies of some of my subalterns,
who envied my appointment, and did their utmost to
endeavour to supplant me. Coco-Lacour was a leader
amongst the malcontents, who endeavoured to caress and
injure me at the same time. At the moment when this
rogue was at fifty paces from me and would have over-
turned all the chairs in a church to come and salute
me with a- honeyed “ God bless you,” when, by chance
he heard me sneeze, I was well assured that he was a
snake in the grass. No one despises more than my-
self those petty attentions of a man who is servile, even
when civility is scarcely requisite. But as I had a
conscience which told me that I had done my duty, I
cared very little as to whether these demonstrations
were false or true. Scarcely a day passed without my ‘
spies informing me that Lacour was the soul of certain
meetings, (conciliabules,) where all matters relating to
me were discussed. They said that be projected my
downfall; that there was a party formed against me,
the aim of whose conspiracy was to destroy the tyrant
Vidocq. At first, the conspirators contented themselves
with clamours; and as they had my destruction per-
petually in perspective, that they might mutually please
each other, they universally predicted it, and each of


memoms or vrnocq. 83
them partook beforehand of the inheritance of Alex-
ander. I am ignorant whether the inheritance devolved
on “ the most worthy,” but I know very well that my
successor did not hesitate to have recourse to every
stratagem, more or less skilful, to succeed in getting it
adjudged [0 him previously to my abdication.
From clamours and scandal-meetings Lacour and his
partisans passed to more decided measures ; and on the
approach of the sitting, during which Peyois, Leblanc,
Bedhelet, and Lefebvre, who were accused of robbery,
by the aid of a crow-bar, or monseignenr le dauphin,
they spread a report that I was on the eve of a cata-
strophe, and that, in all probability, I should not get off
with clean hands.
This prophecy, delivered at all the vintners in the
environs of the palace of justice, was soon brought
to me, but I did not disquiet myself any more than
at so many others which were not realized; only, I
thought, I perceived that Lacour redoubled his at-
tentions and snppleness towards me; he saluted me
more respectfully and with more ceremony than usual;
his eyes, aided by the spiral movement of his head,
when he sought to give himself the graces of a man of
good breeding, sedulonsly avoided all contact with mine.
At the same time, I remarked with three other of my
agents, Chrestien, Utinet, and Decostard, an increase
of zeal for the service, and a. complaisance which as-
tonished me. I was instructed that these gentlemen
had frequent conferences with Lacour; as for myself,
without thinking the least in the world of watching
their steps for my personal interest, I had surprised
them chattering and talking of me. One evening, par-
ticularly, passing into the court of la Sainte-Chapelle,
(for they had plotted even in the sanctuary,)l had
heard one of them rejoicing that I should not parry
the thrust about to be made at me. What did this
mean Z I had not the least idea. When Peyois and his
accomplices had been tried, the judicial examination.
developed a most atrocious 'machination, tending to


34 uenoms or vrnocq.
rove that l was the instigate: of the crime which had
ed them to the galleys.
Peyois said, “ that having addressed me, to ask me if
I knew a recruiter who wanted a substitute, I had pro-
posed that he should rob on my account, and that I had
even given him three francs to buy the crow-bar, with
which he had been taken when forcibly entering the
house of Sienr Labatty.” Berthelet and Lefebvre con-
firmed Peyois’s statement ; and a vintner named Leblanc
who, implicated as well as they, appeared to have been
the real provider of funds for procuring the instrument,
encouraged them to persevere in a system of defence,
which, if allowed, would have the effect of clearing him.
The advocates who pleaded in this cause, did not fail
to draw all possible argument from this imputation
against me, and as they spoke from conviction, if they
did not determine the jury to come to adecision favour-
able to their clients, at least they contrived to insinuate
into the minds of the judges and the public most ter-
rible prejudices against me. I therefore felt it incum-
bent on me to exculpate myself, and, sure of my inno-
cence, I begged M. the préfet of police to grant me an
inquiry, that the truth might be made evident.
Peyois, Berthelet, and Lefebvre were condemned,
and I imagined that not having henceforward any mo-
tive for persisting in falsehood, they would confess that
they had calumniated me; I presumed, besides, that in
case their conduct should have been the result of sug-
gestion, they would not make much difficulty in naming
the advisers of the imposture which they had so impu-
dently supported in the presence of justice. The préfet
aliowed the inquiry I solicited, and at the moment when
he confided the care of directing it to M. Fleuriais,
commissary of police for that quarter of the city, a
previous document, on which I had not counted, pre-
ceded my justification ; it was a letter of Berthelet to
the vintner Leblanc, who had been declared not guilty;
I transcribe it here, because it shows to what are re-
duced the accusations which were perpetually made


MEMOIRS OS VIDoC Q.
35
against me, the whole time I was attached to the police,
and since I have belonged to it. It follows, and I have
preserved even the exact orthography.
* A MoNsIEUR,
* Monsieur le Blanc, maître marchand de vin, demeu-
rant barrière du Combat, boulvard de la Chopinette,
au signe de la Crois, à proche Paris.
* Monsieur, je vous Ecris cette lettre Cest pour
m'enformer de l'état de votre santée Et an même teimps
pour vous prevenir que nous sommes pourvus an grace
de notre jugement. Vous ne doutez pas de ma malheu-
reuse position. C'est pourquoi que je vous previens
que si vous m'abandonné je ferais de nouvelle Revela-
tion de la peince que vous avez fourny et qui a deplus
êté trouvée chez vous, dont vous n'ignores pas ce que
nous avons caché a la justice a cette Egard, et dont un
chef de la police a êté cités dans cette affaire qui était
innocent Et qu'on a cherché a rendre victime, vous
n'ignores pas les promesse que vous m'aves faite dans
votre chambre pour vous soutenir dans le tribunal, vous
n'ignores pas que j'ai vendu le suc et de la chandelle
a votre femme C'est pourquoi si vous m'abandonne je
ne vous regarderes pas pour un nomme dapres toutes
vos belles promesses.
* Rappeles vous que la justice ne pert pas ces droit
et qui je pourés vous faire appelles en
* Vous navés Rien à craindre cette a passer secrette-
ment.
* BERTHELET "
And lower down, * j'aprouve l'ecriture ci desus."
(TRANSLATIoN.)
** To MoNsIEUR,
* Monsieur le Blanc, master vintner, living at the
barriere du Combat, boulevard de la Chopinette, at the
sign of the Cross, near Paris.
* SIR,
* I write you this letter to inform myself of the state


36 MEMOIRS or vruocq.
of your health, and, at the same time, to let you know
that we are about to seek a reversal of our sentence.
You cannot doubt my wretched situation. I therefore
warn you that if you forsake me, I will make a fresh
discovery of the crow-bar which you furnished, and which
has been found at your house, which you well know we
have not told to justice, and with which a chief of
police has been charged in this affair, who is entirely
innocent, and who has been singled out as a victim';
you are not ignorant of the promises that you made in
your room, on condition that we supported you before
the tribunal; you are not ignorant that I sold the
sugar and candles to your wife, and, therefore, if you
abandon me, I shall think no more of you and your
fine promises.
“ Remember that justice will not lose her rights, and
that I can have you summoned to .
'“ You have nothing to fear, this passes out secretly.

“ BERTHELET.”
“ I approve the above."
According to custom, this letter, which was to pass
so secretly, was given up to the jailor, wlto, having
read it, forwarded it to the prefecture of police. Le-
blanc, consequently, being unable to reply or come to
Berthelet, he lost his patience, and to put in execution
the menaees he had held out, he wrote to me from the
Conciergerie another letter thus conceived :—
“ Ce 29 Septembre, 1823,
“ Mousrsrm,
" Dapres les debats de la cour d'assise et le resumée
du president qui porte a charge Dapres la Declaration
du Nomrné'Peyois qui par une Fosse declaration faite
par lui au tribunal d'un Ecul de 3 fr. que vous lui
aviez donnés pour acheté linstrument qui a Casses la
porte a Monsieur Labbaty.
“ Moi Berthelet En presence des autoritées veux


menorns or vrnocQ. 37
faire Reconnoitre la veritée Et votre innocence je de-
clare 1'. savoir ou la peince aeté achetée. 2°. de la
maison dou elle est sorty. 3'. et le nom de celui qui la
fourny avec veritée.
“ BERTnELET.”
And lower down, “ J’approuve lecriture ci Dessus."
Still lower, the seal of the house of justice and the
notice from the hand of the chiefof the employés of
the Conciergerie.
“ L‘e'criture ci-dessus et la signature est celle de Ber-
lhelct. “ Eon."
(TRANSLATION.)
“ 2921: September, 182 3.
“ Sm,
“ After the examination of the Court of Assize and
the sentence of the president after the declaration of
Peyois, who, by a false declaration made by him at the
tribunal, of a three franc piece that you had given him,
:10 buy the instrument which broke open M. Labatty‘s
oor.
“ I, Berthelet, in presence of the authorities, wish to
confess the truth and your innocence. I declare, first,
when the crow-bar was bought; secondly, the house
whence it came; thirdly, the name of him who fur-
nished it, with truth.
“ Ben-mum."
“ I approve the above.”
Berthelet, being interrogated by M. F leuriais, declared
that the crow-bar had cost forty-five sous; that it was
bought at the faubourg du temple, at abroker’s, and that
Leblanc, knowing the use to which it was to be applied,
had advanced the money to pay forit. “. The bargain
concluded," continued Berthelet, “ Leblanc, who was a
little behind, said to me; “ If any person should ask you
what you are going to do with the crow-bar, you must
lay that you are a stone-cutter, and that you want the
von. in. l'.


38 usuoms or vrnocq.
bar to work your turning-wheel. If they ask for your
papers, come to me, and I will say that you are my ap-
prentice.” I went on with the crow-bar in my hand, and
he told me to give it to him, that he might carry it
under his great coat, lest I should meet any of the
agents. Leblanc then conducted me to his house, and
on arriving, his first care was to go down into his cellar
to hide the crow-bar. I went u stairs and found Le-
febvre there, to whom I said that fhad bought the tool.
The same evenin , after having sat drinking till ten
o’clock, Lefebvre, eyois, and myself went round the
temple to a small street, the name of which I forget;
Peyois, whilst I and Lefebvre were on the watch, made
thirty-three holes by means of a centre-bit, in the shut-
ter of a milliner’s shop. The knife he used to enlarge
the holes having broken, and our attempt thus failing,
we retired, and went then to the market at the corner of
St. Eustache, when Peyois, using the crow-bar, tried to
force the door of a silk-mercer. Some one within hav-
ing asked what we wanted, we tied; it was then half.
past two o’clock in the morning. \Ve went all then to
the hotel tl’Angleterre, when Perjois left with the
woman of the house, whom he knew, an umbrella
which he had with him.
“ Before he entered, Peyois had lett the crow-bar,
which was wrapped up, with a coffee-seller in the
street. We left the hotel d‘Angleterre about five o'clock,
and Peyois again took the bar from the woman in
whose charge he had left it. I must say that woman
knew nothing of what it was. Peyois went then to
Leblanc's, and carried the bar with him. Let'ebvre
and I did not part company, but returned to Leblanc’s
at five o’clock in the evening, and remained there till
tea. Leblanc gave me a phosphorus light-box in case
we should need one, and also a piece of candle. I '
amused myself with tracing on this light-box, which was
of lead, with my knife, the letter L, which is Leblanc's
initial. Peyois, Lefebvre, and I went out together.
Peyois, having taken the bar with him, passed the bar-


mauoms or vinocQ. 39
rier with it, and then left it with us. He stopped
on the road, to call at a house with Victoire Bigan, and
Lefebvre and I went to commit (at Labatty‘s) the rob-
bery for which we were subsequently apprehended.
The crow-bar and a part of the booty stolen were con-
veyed to Leblanc’s by Lefebvre.
“ Leblanc, who was tried with us, had engaged us
not to accuse him, and not to contradict Peyois, who
was to say that it was M. Vidocq who had given him
three francs to buy the crow-bar; and he has promised
' to give me a sum of money if I would consent to assert
the same thing. I did consent, fearing that if I told
the truth my situation would be still worse.”
(Declaration of 3d October, 1823.)
Lefebvre, who afterwards confessed, without having
any communication with Berthelet, confirmed his con-
fession, as far as concerned Leblanc. “ If I did not
say,” he added, " that it was he who furnished Berthelet
with the money for the purchase of the crow-bar, it is
because Peyois had engaged me to say that it was he,
Peyois, who had bought it. Peyois being compromised
in this robbery, was unwilling to charge Leblanc, who
was friendly to him and would serve him again.” A
Monsieur Egly, chief of the employés at the Concier-
gerie, and Lecomte and Vermont, confined in that pri-
son, having been heard by M. Fleuriais, related many
conversations, in which Berthelet, Lefebvre, and Pe-
yois had arranged, in their presence, how they would
incul ate me. In their evidence all the convicts agreed
that had endeavoured to dissuade them from doing
wrong. Vermont related, besides, that one day be
having blamed them because they had compromised me
without any motive, they replied: “ Stuff l we will do
the trick ; we would have compromised the eternal
Father to save ourselves ; but it has not turned out so
well as might be.” '
Peyois, who was the youngest of the party, was less
free in his replies: his friendship for Leblanc induced
1-; 2


40 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
him to conceal a part of the affair, but he confessed
that I knew nothing of the purchase of the crow-bar.
“ During," said he, “all the time that preceded our
trial, and before the court of assizes, I have affirmed
and declared that M. Vidocq gave me the three francs
to buy the crow-bar, by the aid of which the robbery
has been committed, which caused the apprehension of
myself, Berthelet, Leblanc, Lefebvre, and others. I
have persisted in saying the same thing, hoping that it
might defer or diminish my term of sentence. I had
thought of this plan because some prisoners had told
me that it might be of use to me. I will now truly
declare that M. Vidocq gave me no money to buy
the crow-bar, and I purchased it with my own money :
this bar cost me forty-eight sous, and I bought it at a
smith’s shop in the first street on the right hand, on en-
tering the Rue des Arcis on the side of the bridge of
Notre-Dame. I do not know the name of the smith,
but I could easily point out the shop, which is the
second on the right on going down the street. It was
on the eighth or ninth of March last that I made the
purchase ; the smith and his wife were in the shop; it
was the first time I ever bought any thing of them.”
Three days afterwards Peyois, having been transferred
to Bicétre, wrote to the chief of the second division of the
prefecture of police a letter, in which he confessed that he
ad constantly imposed on justice, and testified a wish to
make sincere disclosures: this time the whole truth did
really come to light. Utinet, Chrestien, Decostard,
and Coco-Lacour, who had come to the court to depose
in favour of the imposture, were at once dragged to
light: it became evident that Chrestien had planned
the whole intrigue, which was to lead to my expulsion
from the police. A declaration which the mayor of Gen-
tilly received, exposed the whole infamy of the machi-
nation, from which Lacour, Chrestien, Decostard, and
Utinet, had promised themselves the greatest success.
This declaration, to which I could add a great many


mnaroms or vrnoco. 41
others, comprises a complete justification, and I here
subjoin it word for word.
DECLARATION
Of Peyois and Let'ebvre, relative to Sieur Vidocq,
falsely accused of having furnished money to buy a
crow-bar, by help of which a robbery was committed.
“ Second Division, First Oflice, No. 70,466.
“This day, the 13th ofOctober, 1823, at ten o'clock
in the morning, we, Guillaume Recodere, mayor of the
commune of Gentilly, after the order of M. the councillor
of state, préfet of police, we went to the central house
of detention of Bicetre, when we caused to appear be-
fore us, in the room of the said prison, André Peyois,
detained under a sentence condemning him to confine-
ment in irons, whom, after having presented a letter
addressed to the chief of the second division of the pre-
fecture of police, beginning with these words, ‘ pardon
lite liberty,’ and finishing with these, ‘of which in
another has informed me,’ the said letter, dated the tent
current, and signed Peyois, we asked to tell us if he
knew it to be that which he had subscribed and signed,
and if he avowed the whole contents.
“ His reply was, that he perfectly knew this letter to
be the same which he addressed to M. Parisot, chief of
the second division of the prefecture of police, it was
Signed by him. The body of the letter was not written
by him, as he could not write well enough for that, but
that what it contained had been dictated by him to the
writer, (named Lemaitre, a fellow- risoner,) and as a
proof of what he stated, he is rea y to declare to us
orally all the facts and circumstances contained in the
same, without requiring to have his memory assisted by
any hints from us, by reading its contents : he, conse-
quently, declared, that after the affair which led to his
condemnation and sentence to fetters, when he publicly
stated that the Sieur Vidocq had given him the sum of
three francs to buy the crow bar, by aid of which he
committed the robbery which led to his condemnation,
E 3


42 MEMOIRS OF vrnoco.
he told a thin not only incorrect but actually untrue,
for no such 0 er or suggestion was made to him by that
functionary, and that never, at this or any other time,
did he receive money from this individual: he stated
this falsehood in public court ; he did it from the bad
advice given to him by Utinet and Chrestien, who per-
suaded him that by this means only his affair would
take a favourable turn, and that he would not be con-
demned ; and so much the more, as if he called on them
as witnesses of what he stated they would support his
assertion, and they would depose exactly as he did, and
that they would even say that they had seen the sum of
three francs given; they went even further, they per-
suaded him that they had much influence with some
powerful ersonage whose authority would secure him
from con emnation, or, if a sentence was past, would
exercise his influence in reversing his judgment.
“It was also by the advice of these two individuals
that he called Lacour and Decostard as witnesses, who
deposed the same facts as himself, declaring that Sieur
Vidocq had done so, although such statement was posi-
tively false.
“After his sentence these same individuals required
of him that he should appeal, romising to pay the ex-
penses of acounse] and all t e costs of such appeal.
As to the latter circumstance, the mother may be
examined, who received from Lacour and Decostard
the same promises and same advances : they were made
to her at a Vintner’s, in the place du Palais de Justice,
named M. Bazile. His mother lives with her husband,
Rue du Faubourg Saint Denis, No. 143, at a M. Res-
tauret’s.
“ Thus he must, for the satisfaction of his Conscience,
and to pay homage to justice and truth, disavow what
he said in open court to the prejudice of Sieur Vidocq,
against his morality and his honour, and he humbly
asks his pardon.
“ To corroborate this confession he requests us to
examine Lefebvre. his accomplice, sentenced With him-


usruorns or vinoco. 43
self in the same affair, who is in this prison, and
knows by whom and with whose money the crow-bar
was bought, which he said had been paid for by the
money oi Vidocq.
“This was read over to him, and he confirms the
forth of it, in which he persists, and has signed it.
(Signed) “ PEYOIS."
“Afterwards, having summoned before us Lefebvre,
who was above alluded to as a prisoner in the same
prison, we asked him if he knew Peyois, and how he
procured the crow-bar, by the aid of which the robbery
was effected, which led to their mutual conviction.
“He answered, that two or three days before the
robbery was committed he had seen this instrument in
the hands of Peyois, who, before the affair, had always
told him that he bought it for three francs, but never
said that M. Vidocq had given him the money. It
was on the trial, and during the arraignment previously,
that he le'trnt that it was M. Vidocq who had supplied
the funds which bought it.
“ Which is all he knew of the matter, and his decla-
ration being read over to him, he said that it was all
true, he persisted in the assertion, and signed it.
(Signed) “ Lernnvae.”
“ From which, and of all which, the present prove:
verbal has been drawn, to be transmitted to M. the coun-
cillor of state, préfet of police, on the day, month, and
year, above-mentioned.
(Signed) “ Reconnae."
It was these four agents (Lacour, Chrestien, Decos-
tard and Utinet) who had sent Peyois to me, when
he came under pretence of asking me if I could not tell
him of some recruits who wanted a substitute : it was
also they who persuaded Berthelet to come to my
office, to give me information on acertain robbery about
to be perpetrated. They had thus prepared to support
the accusation, under the weight of which they hoped to


44 various or vrnocQ.
crush me, an assemblage of apparent truths resulting
from my intercourse with robbers previously to their
apprehension. According to all appearances it was not
impossible but that they had, for some time, winked at
the exploits of Peyois and his gang, on condition that
if they were apprehended in the act, they should adopt
a system of defence conformable to their interest. Not
atrace of such an understanding could be made out, but
it is most probable; and the measures of my agents, both
during the proceedings and after the conviction of the
culprits, do not allow any doubt on the point. Peyois
is arrested, and instantly Utinet and Chrestien go to
La Force and have a conversation with him, in which
they persuade him that it is only by accusing me that
he can give a favourable turn to his affair: that if he
Would escape a sentence he must call them both as wit-
nesses of what they agreed that he should assert : that
they will support his assertion, and will depose exactly
the same as he did: that they will even state that they
have seen me give him the sum ofthree francs.
The two agents do not confine themselves to this
only; but to make assurance doubly sure of the non-
retraction of Peyois, they tell him that they have a
powerful protector at their disposal, whose influence
will preserve them from every kind of sentence, and
who, if by chance a sentence was inevitable, would still
have arms long enough to overturn the sentence.
The pleadings opened, Utinet, Chrestien, Lacour,
and Decostard hastened to attest the facts which were
imputed to me by Peyois. But this young man, to
whom they promised impunity, was overwhelmed by
the verdict: then apprehending that, now seeing his
fate, he would make them repent having deceived him,
by exposing their treachery, they hastened to animate
his hope, and not only required of him that he should
appeal to the court of cassation, but, still more, they
offered to give him a counsel at their own expense, and
engaged to pay all expenses of the appeal. The mo-
ther of Peyois was equally assailed by these intrigues :


HBMOIRS or vrnocq. 45
they made her the same offers of service, the same pro-
mises; Laconr, Decostard, and Chrestien took her to
M. Bazile's, the Vintner's, place du Palais de Justice ;
and there, in the presence of Leblanc‘s wife and a
bottle of wine, exerted all their eloquence to prove to
the mother of Peyois that if she seconded them, and her
son was obedient to their orders, it would be easy to
save him: “ Be quiet,” said Chrestien, “and we will
do all that is requisite."
Such were the facts elucidated by the inquiry ; it be-
came evident to the magistrates that the incident of the
crow-bar furnished by Vidocq was an invention of my
agents; and, subsequently, on this foundation, a thou-
sand and one tales were made more or less ridiculous;
which the Plntarchs of the literary pillar will not fail to
give as authentic, if ever Tiger, the printer, or his suc-
cessor, should take a fancy to add to their collection of
wonderful books, “ The wonderfid, but yet molt true his-
tory of the deeds, actions, and adventures, memorable, e1-
tmordinury, and surprising, of the celebrated Vidocq ,-
with a portrait of that great spy, as he appeared when
living, just before his death, which happened without
accident, on the day of his deceare, in his home at Saint
Mande’, at midnight, on the 22d July, in the year of
grace, 1875."


46 mnmoms or vrnocq
CHAPTER. XXXV.
The newsmongers of mishaps—The echo of the street of Jerusalem
and the circumj scent placer—Nothing but “ Vidocq"-—The Athenians
and Aristides—Ostracism and shells—The cat‘s-puw—I create
robbers—The two Guillotins—The cloaca of Desnoyers—Chaos and
creation—Monsieur Double-croche and the chicken-coop—A genteel
appearance—The supreme bou ton—War with the greenhorns—Le
Cadran bleu de la Canaille—A well-compacted society—The
Orientalists'and the Ar onauts—The mutton of the salt-marshes—
Ths cat’s tail—The ui s and the Chahut—Rihoulet and Manon la
Blonde——The trium al entry—The little black father—Two bal-
lads—Hospitality— be college friend—The Children of the Sun.
I as: pardon of the reader for having expatiated at
so much length on my OWn tribulations and the
petty spite of my agents: I could well desire to have
spared him a chapter which only concerns my reputa-
tion ; but, before I proceeded, I was anxious to show that
it is not always right to give ear to the tales of enemies.
What have not the spies, the robbers, and the pick-
pockets endeavoured by every means in their power,
as well as many others, to get me dismissed from the
police '2
“ Such a one is grabbed," said a knight of the post
to his wife, on returning at evening to his lair.
“ Impossible l"
“ No, by heaven ’tis as I tell you.”
“ By whom l"
“ Why need you ask ? by that Vidocq."
Two of those gossips so numerous on the pave' of
Paris meet ;—
“ Have you heard the news? Poor Harrison is at
La Force.”
“ Monsieur, you are joking.”
“ I wish it was ajoke; he was just ready to receive
a quantity of merchandise. 1 should have had my


MEMOIRS or vroocq. 47
commission; well! the devil mingled in the dance,
just as he had received the notice of delivery he was
apprehended.”
“ And by whom ?”
“ By Vidocq.”
“ The wretch l”
A capture of the highest importance was announced
at the police-ofiice; If I had seized any great criminal,
of whom the most cunning agents had a hundred times
lost scent, instantly all the flies began buzzing, “ It is
that cursed Vidocq who has nabbed him at last.” It
was then that recrimination followed recrimination
without end: along the streets of Jerusalem and Sainte-
Anne, from cabaret to cabaret, echo repeated in the
accents of malice, “ Vidocq again! always Vidocql"
and this name sounded more harshly in the ears of the
cabal, than did that of the Just on the ears of the
ancient Athenians, as applied to Aristides.
How great would have been the hapfpiness of the
gangs of robbers, vagabonds, and spies, i , expressly to
offer them a chance of getting rid of me, they had
revived the old law of Ostracisml How shells would
then have accumulated! But, except by plots like
those from which M. Coco and his accomplices expected
so fortunate a result, what could they do'! In the hive
they silenced the drones. “ Look at Vidocq,” said the
chief, “take example from him; what activity he
exerts! always on the alert, day and night, he never
sleeps; with four such men as he, the safety of the
capital would be ensured."
These encominms irritated the sluggards, but they
did not follow the advice given: if they were awake,
they always had a glass in their hands; and instead of
going on wings to the place where duty summoned,
they formed themselves into small parties, and amused
themselves by picking my coat to pieces.
“ No, it is not possible," said one, “ to take these
expert cracksmen, unless he has some understanding
with them.”


48 MEMOIRS or vmocQ.
“ Parbleu !" replied another, “ he sets them on, and
makes a cat's-paw ” -
“ Oh, he is a malicious brute," added a third.
Then a fourth, placing a copestone upon the whole,
cried out with a stentorian voice, “ When there are no
robbers, he makes them."
Now, see how I made robbers.
I do not think that amongst the readers of these
Memoirs one will be found who, even by chance, has
set foot at Guillotin’s.
“ Eh l what 1'“ some one will exclaim, “ Guillotin !"

Ce savant médecin
Que l'amour du prochain
Fit mourir de chagrin.
“ You are mistaken, we all know the celebrated
doctor, who— ;” but the Guillotin of whom I am speak-
ing is an unsophisticated adulterator of wines, whose
establishment, well known to the most degraded classes
of robbers, is situate opposite to the Cloaque Des-
noyers, which the raff of the Barribre call the drawing-
room of la Courtille. A workman may be honest to
a certain extent and venture in, en passant, to papa
Desnoyers‘. If he be awake, and keep his eye on
the company, although a row should commence, he may,
by the aid of the gendarmes,eseape with only a few
blows, and pay no one’s scot but his own. At Guillotin's
he will not come off so well, particularly if his toggery
be over spruce, and his pouch has drink in it.
Picture to yourself, reader, a square room of con-
siderable magnitude, the walls of which, once white,
have been blackened by every species of exhalation,
Such is, in all its simple modesty, the aspect of a
temple consecrated to the worship of Bacchus and
Terpsichore. At first, by a very natural optical illusion,
we are struck by the confined space before us, but the
eye, after a time, piercing through the thick atmosphere
of a thousand vapours which are most inodorous, the
extent becomes visible by details which escape in the


MEMOle or vroocq. 49
first chaotic glimpse. It is the moment of creation, all
is bright, the fog disappears, becomes peopled, is
animated, forms appear, they move, they are agitated,
they are no illusory shadows, but, on the contrary,
essentially material, which cross and recross at every
moment. \Vhat beatitudes! what a joyous life!
Never, even for the Epicureans, were so many felicities
assembled together. Those who like to wallow in filth,
can find it here to their heart’s content: many seated
at tables, on which, without ever being wiped away,
are renewed a hundred times a day the most disgusting
libations, close in a square space reserved for what
they call the dancers. At the further end of this infected
cave there is, supported by four worm-eaten pillars,
a sort of alcove, constructed from broken-up ship-
timber, which is graced by the appearance of two or
three rags of old tapestry. It is on this chicken coop
that the music is perched: two clarinets, a hurdy-
gurdy, a cracked trumpet, and a grumbling bassoon—
five instruments whose harmonious movements are
regulated by the crutch of Monsieur Double-Croche,
a lame dwarf, who is called the leader of the orchestra.
Here all is in harmony—the faces, costumes, the food
that is prepared; a genteel appearance is scouted.
There is no closet in which walking-sticks, umbrellas,
and cloaks are deposited; the women have their hair
all in confusion like a poodle dog, and the kerchief
perched on the top of the head, or in a knot tied in
front, with the corners in a rosette, or, if you prefer it, a
cockade, which threatens the eye in the same manner
as those of the country mules. As for the men, it is
a waistcoat with a cap and falling collar, if they have a
shirt, which is the regulated costume ; breeches are not
insisted on ; the supreme bon ton would be an artillery-
man’s cap, the frock of an hussar, the pantaloon of a
lancer, the boots of a guardsman, in fact the cast-oil
attire of three or four regiments, or the wardrobe of a
field of battle; and there is L0 out and outer thus
attired but is the fancy man of these ladies, who
VOL. In. t7


50 MEMOIRS or vroocq.
adore the cavalry, and have a decided taste for the dress
of the whole army ; but nothing so much leases them
as mustachios, and a broad red cap adorne with leather
of the same colour.
In this assembly, a beaver hat, unless napless and
brimless, would be very rare ; no one ever remembers
to have seen a coat there, and should any one dare to
present himself in a great coat, unless a family man,
e woulibe sure to depart skirtless, or only in his waist-
coat. In vain would he ask pardon for those flaps
which had offended the eyes of the noble assembly;
too happy would he be if, after having been bandied
and knocked about with the utmost unanimity as a.
greenhorn, only one skirt should be left in the hands
of these youthful beauties, who, in the fervour of gaiety,
rather roar out than sing these characteristic words :—
Laissez-moi donc, i’veux m’en aller
Tout débiné z'a la Courtille.
Laissez-mni donc, j’veux m‘en aller
Tout débiné chez Destroyers l
Desnoyers' is the Cadran bleu de la Canaille, (the
resort of the lower orders ;) but before stepping over the
threshold of the cabaret of Guillotin, even the canaille
themselves look twice, as in this repository are only to
be seen prostitutes with their bullies, pick-pockets and.
thieves of all classes, some priga' of the lowest
grade, and many of those nocturnal marauders who
divide their existence into two parts, consecrating it to
the duties of theft and riot. It may be supposed that
slang is the only language of this delightful society: it:
is generally in French, but so perverted from its pri-
mitive signification, that there is not a member of the
distinguished “ company of forty" who can flatter him-
self with a full knowledge of it, and yet the “ dons of
Guillotin’s” have their purists: those who assert that
slang took its rise in the East, and without thinking
for a moment of disputing their talent as Orientalists,
they take that title to themselves without any ceremony;


Minions or vmocQ. bl
as also that of Argonauts, when they have com-
pleted their studies under the direction of the galley-
serjeants, in working, in the port of Toulon, the dormant
navigation on board a vessel in dock. If notes were
pleasing to me, I could here seize the opportunity of
making some very learned remarks. I should, perhaps,
go into a profound disquisition, but I am about to
paint the paradise of these bacchanalians ; the colours
are prepared,—let us finish the picture.
If they drink at Guillotin’s they eat also, and the mys-
teries of the kitchen of this place of delights are well
worthy of being known. The little father Guillotin
has no butcher, but he has a purveyor; and in his brass
stewpans, the verdigrise of which never (poisons, the dead
horse is transformed into beef a-la-mo e; the thighs oi
the dead dogs found in Rue Guénegaud become legs
of mutton from the salt-marshes; and the magic of a
piquant sauce gives to the staggering bob (dead born
veal) of the cow-feeder the appetizing look of that of
Pontoise. We are told that the cheer in winter is ex-
cellent, when the rot prevails; and if ever (during M.
Delaveau‘s administration) bread were scarce in sum-
mer during the “ massacre of the innocents," mutton
was to be had here at a very cheap rate.
In this country of _metamorphoses the hare never
had the right of citizenship; it was compelled to yield
to the rabbit, and the rabbit—how happy the rats
are!
,“ Ofortunati nimium—si nth-int."
It was the Domine of St. Mandé who taught me this
quotation ; he told me it was Latin, perhaps it may be
Greek or Hebrew ;—-no matter, I leave it, cornewhat may,
to the will of God; but still, if the rats could ever have
seen what I have seen, unless they had been an ingrate
and perverse race, they would have opened a subscrip-
tion for the erection of a statue to the Liberator, little
father Guillotin.
One evening, led by my inclination, which a good
r 2
USRARY I ‘
UNi'VERSlTY OF lLLil‘tOlS


52 rrmroms 0e vrnocq.
Frenchman always follows, I went out; in my road I
accidentally pushed against a door, it gave way, and,
by the freshness of the air, I found I was in a court ;
the place was propitious, and I groped along, until
I made a trip over some paving stones which had
been left in the way. I stretched out my arms to re—
cover myself, and whilst with one hand I grasped hold
of a post, I seized with the other something very soft
and very long. I was in darkness, but fancied I saw
several sparks shining, and by the touch I thought I
recognised a certain velvet appendage of a quadruped’s
vertebral column. I kept hold of a bunch of it, and
drawing it through my hand, there remained a packet
of spoils, with which I entered the room at the very mo_
ment when M. Double-Creche, pointing out the figures
to the dancers, was howling out “ la queue du chat.”
It needs not to be asked how very apropos this was ;
there was throughout the assembly a general mewing,
but it was only a joke; the lovers of fricassee mewed
like the rest, and, after having taken their caps off, they
said, “ Come on, here is the good stuff 1 Covered by
cat-skin, and fed on cats, we shall not soon be in want ;
the mother of tom-cats is not yet dead.h
Father Guillotin consumed generally more oil than
cotton, but I can, nevertheless, affirm, that, in my time,
some banquets have been spread at his cabaret, which,
subtracting the liquids, could not have cost more at the
café Riche or at Grignon’s. I remember six individuals,
named Driancourt, Vilattes, Pitroux, and three others,
who found means to spend 166 francs there in one night_
In fact, each of them had with him his favourite bella.
The citizen no doubt pretty well fleeced them, but they
did not complain, and that quarter of an hour which
Rabelais had so much difficulty in passing, caused them
no trouble ; they paid like grandees, without forgetting
the waiter. I apprehended them whilst they were
paying the bill, which they had not even taken the
trouble of examining. Thieves are generous when they
are caught “ i’ the vein.” They had just committed


merrorns or vinocq. 53
many considerable robberies, which they are now re-
penting in the bagnes of France.
It can scarcely be believed that in the centre of civi-
lization, there can exist a den so hideous as the cave
of Guillotin; it must be seen, as I have seen it, to be
believed. Men or women all smoked as they danced,
the pipe passed from mouth to mouth, and the most re-
fined gallantry that could be ofl'ered to the nymphs
who came to this rendezvous, to display their graces
iu the postures and attitudes of the indecent Chahut, was,
to offer them the pruneau, that is, the quid of tobacco,
submitted or not, according to the degree of familiarity,
to the test of a previous mastication. The peace-officers
and inspectors were characters too greatly distinguished
to appear amongst such an assemblage, they kept them-
selves most scrupulously aloof, to avoid so repugnant a
contact; I myself was much disgusted with it, but at
the same time was persuaded,that to discover and ap-
prehend malefactors it would not do to wait until
they should come and throw themselves into my arms;
I therefore determined to seek them out, and that
my searches might not be fruitless, I endeavoured to
find out their haunts, and then, like a fisherman who
has found a reserve,I cast my line out with a certainty
of abite. {did not lose my time in searching for a
needle in a bottle of hay, as the saying is; when we
lack water, it is useless to go to the source of a dried-
up stream and wait for a shower of rain; but to quit all
metaphor, and speak plainly,-—-the spy who really
means to ferret out the robbers, ought, as much as pos-
sible, to dwell amongst them, that he may grasp at
every opportunity which presents itself of drawing down
upon their heads the sentence of the laws. Upon this
principle I acted, and this caused my recruits to say
that I made men robbers ; I certainly have, in this way,
made a vast many, particularly on my first connection
with the police.
On a particular afternoon of the winter of 1811, I had
a presentiment that a visit to Guillotin's would not be
r 3


54 MEMOIRS or vrnoco.
without its results. Without being superstitious, I
know not why,I have always followed these inspirations ;
I put my wardrobe in requisition, and, after having
suited myself so as not to bear any appearance ofbeing
a greenhorn, I left my house with another secret agent,
named Riboulet,a downy cove, (arsouille consommé,)
whom all the houris of the boozing ken (quinche)
claimed as their chevalier, as did also the milliners’
girls, who considered him as a complete hiddy. For
such an excursion, a woman was an indispensable por.
tion of the baggage, and Riboulet had one who just
suited us; she passed as his mistress, and wasa common
woman, called Manon la Blonde, on whom he assured
me that reliance could be placed. In two seconds she
rent her woollen stockings in twenty places, tore the
edges of her red cloak, begrimed her shawl, trod her
shoes down at heel, dishevelledher locks, and gave to the
kerchiefwith which she graced her brows that indescrib-
able appearance which was necessary. She was highly
delighted with the character she had to perform.
Thus attired and prepared, we set out together, arm_
in-arm, towards la Courtille. On reaching the cabaret,
we seated ourselves at atable in the corner, that we might
the more easily watch whatever should pass. Riboulet
was one ofthose men whose very appearance commanded
instant attention : he had not spoken nor had I, but yet
we were instantly attended to.
“ You see,” said lie, “ the cove knows the time o‘day,
the lush (wine), meat, and salad."
I asked if we could not have a matelote of eels.
“ Snakes," cried Manon, “ do you want ; cog-mag
and snivellers (stinking meat and onions) would be as
good.”
I said no more, and we began to eat with as much
appetite as if we had never been initiated into the mys-
teries of papa Guillotin’s cookery.
During the repast, a noise at the door attracted our
attention. It proceeded from some conquerors who
made their triumphal entry: men and women six in


memorns or vrnocq. 55
number, forming three couples of individuals whose
“ human face divine” was most tremendously disfigured :
they all had scratched countenances and black eyes;
by the bloody disorder of their attire, and the freshness
of their dilapidations in face and garments, it was easy
to perceive that they were the heroes of some spree, in
which on both sides the quarrel had been decided by
fisty-cuifs. They approached our table.
One or ran Henorzs. “ By your leave, my trumps, is
there room for us on this here seat ?”
I. “ We shall be squeezed a little, but never mind.”
(making room.)
anovuzr (addressing me.) “ Come, my covey, make
room for the gentlemen."
MANOR (to the fresh arrivals.) “ Are these ladies
with you 1”
ONE or THEHEROINES. “ Vat is it you say ? (turning
to her friends) vat does she say ?”
HER PAL. “ Hold your jaw, Titine, (Celestine,) the.
lady said nothing to alfront you."
The whole party seated themselves.
A Heno. “ Halloo! come here daddy Guillotin; a
little black father, four year old, for eight mag," (A
four quart jug for eight sous.)
GUILLOTIN. “ Coming, coming.“
Tue 
VAITER (with the in his hand.) Thirty-
two mag, if you please.”
“ I’ll give you two and thirty kicks of the -——,
yon're chaffing us my rum ’un.
WAITER. “ No, my knowing ones, but. it‘s the cus-
tom, or, if you like, the way of this here house.”
The wine was poured into all the glasses, and they
also filled ours. “ Excuse the liberty,” said the Gany-
mede of the party.
“ Oh, there’s no harm done,” replied Riboulet.
“ You know one politeness requires another.”
“ But you are too polite.”
“ Oh no, drink away, nunky pays for all."
“ You are right, my boys, so push the wine about.”


56 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
We did push it about, and so well that about ten
o’clock in the evening all the sympathy left between us
was manifested by protestations, sight being lost ; and
by those explosions of drunken tenderness which de-
velo e all the infinnities of the human heart.
hen the hour of parting had arrived, our new ac-
quaintances, and particularly the softer sex, were com-
pletely drunk. Riboulet and his mistress were only
somewhat elevated, as well as myself; they had pre-
served their senses, but to appear all in unison we pre-
tended to be so tipsy as to be unable to walk; formed
into a phalanx, because in that way the gusts of wind
are less to be feared,we left the theatre of our pleasures.
Then, that we might neutralize, by the aid of a chant,
the reeling tendencies of our troop, Riboulet, with a
Voice whose echoes vibrated in every court and alley,
began to sing, in the most finished slang of his time,
one of those ballads with a chorus, which are as long
as to-day and to-rnorrow.
En roulant de vergne en vergne *
Pour apprendre a goupiner, 1'
J'ai rencontre la mercandiére, 1
Lonfa malura dondaine,
Qui du pivois solisait, §
Lonfa malura dondé.
J’ai rencontré la mercaudiére,
Qui du pivois solisait.
Je lui jaspine en bigorne,
Lonfa malura dondaine,
Qu'as-tu done a morfiller'lqll
Lonfa malura dondé.
Je lui jaspine en bigorne
Qu’as-tu done a morfiller ?
J’ai du chenu pivois sans lance **
Lonfa malura dondaine,
Et du larton savonné, 1-1-
Lonfa malura dondé.
' Cit to city. + To work.- 1 The shopkeeper,
9 Suit wine. II I ask him in slang. {I To eat.
" Good wine without water. 1-1 White bread.


IEMOIRB or vroocQ. b7
Ja'i du chenn pivois sans lance
Et du larton savonné
Une lourde, une tournante "
Lonfa malura dontiairieY
Et un pieu pour ronpiller 1‘
Lonfa malura dondé.
Une lourde, une tournante
Et un pieu pour roupiller,
J'enquille dans sa camhriole:
Lonfa malura dondaine,
Espérant de l’entifler§
Lonfa malura dondé.
J’enquille dans sa cambriole
Espérant de l’entifler
Je rembroque au coin du rifle
Lonfa malura dondaine,
Un messiere qui pioncait 1'
Lonl'a malura dondé.
Je rembroque an coin du rifle
Un messiére qui pioncait;
J ’ai sondé dans ses vallades, ‘"
Lonl'a malura dondaine,
Son carle j'ai pessigué ‘
Lonfa malura dondé.
J’ai sondé dans ses vallades,
Son carle j‘ai pessigué
Son carle, aussi sa tocquante n
Lonfa malura dondaine,
Et ses attaches de cé
Lonfa malura dondé.
Son carle, aussi sa tocquante
Et ses attaches de cé,
' A door and a key. f A bed tosleep upon. 1 I enter her chamber.
9 To make myself agreeable to her.
I I observe in the corner of the room. ,IA minhlying asleep
” .kets. 1+ too 15 mnne .
seal-eh h‘s POE M His silver buckliss.
11 His money and watch.


58 mmoms or vmocq.
Son coulant et sa montante "
Lonla malura dondaine,
Et son combre galuché-l-
Lonfa malura dondé.
Son coulant et sa montante
Et son combre galuché,
Son frusque, aussi sa lisette 1
Lonfa malura dondaine,
Et ses tirants brodanchés §
Lonfa-malura doudé.
Son frusque, aussi sa lisette
Et ses tirants brodanchés,
Crompe, crompe, mercandiére ll
Lonl‘a malura dondaine,
Car nous nous serious bequillésq
Lonfa malura doudé.
Crompe, crompe, mercandiére,
Car nous serions bequillés
Sur la placarde de vergue **
Lonl‘a malura dondaine,
I] nous faudrait gambiller 1 {-
Lonfa malura dondé.
Sur la placarde de vergne
Il nous faudrait gambiller
Allumés de toutes ces larguesfl
Lonfa malura dondaine,
Et du trepe rassemblé §§
Lonfa malura dondé.
Allumés de toutes ces largues
Et du trepe rassemblé, ‘
Et de ces oharlats bons drilles,
Lonfa malura dondaine,
Tous aboulant goupiner {I
Lonfa. malura dondé.
" His chain and breeches. + Gold edged hat.
; His coat and waistcoat. § Embroidered stockings
I Take care of yourself. shopkeeper. Hanged.
' 0n the Place de Ville. f To dance.
it Looked at by all these women. 9§ People.
I] Thieves; good fellows. {[1 All coming to rob.


MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ.
59
Riboulet having been safely delivered of his fourteen
couplets, Manon la Blonde was desirous of evincing
the powers of her lungs. * Now for another !"said she;
* attend to one I learnt at Lazarre; open your listeners,
and repeat after me"
Un jour à la Croix-Rouge
Nous étions dix à douze.
(She interrupted herself with * just as we now are.")
Nous étions dix à douze
Tous grinches de renom, *
Nous attendions la sorgue r
Voulant poisser des bogues :
Pour faire du billon. § (bis)
Partage ou non partage
Tout est à notre usage ;
N'épargnons le poitou |
Poissons avec adresse 4T
Messières et gonzesses **
Sans faire de regout. tt (bis)
Dessus le pont au change
Certain argent-de-change
Se criblait au charron, ::
J'engantai sa toquante §
Ses attaches brillantes |
Avec ses billemonts. II (bis)
Quand douze plombes crossent,***
Ses pegres s'en retournant ++
Au tapis de Montron :::
Montron ouvre ta lourde, §§§
Si tu veux que j'aboule,|
Et piausse en ton bocsin. qqq (bis)
* Thievres.
† Night.
t Watches.
§ Money.
| Let us be cautious.
q[ Let us rob.
** Citizen and wife.
++ Awaken suspicion. : Cried ** thief" 55 l took his watch.
| His diamond buckles.
*II His bank notes,
*** Twelve o'clock strikes.
tt The thieves.
ttt At the cabaret.
55 Your door.
lll Give money.
* II Sleep at your house.


60 memoms or vmocq.
Montron drogue fl. sa larque, "
Bounis-moi donc girofle 't‘
Qui sont ces pegres-la ?1
Des grinchisseurs de bogues, §
Esquinteur de boutoques, [\
Les connobres tu pas 1 1i (bis)
Et vile ma culbute; *'
Quand je vois mon aifure
Je suis toujours paré
Du plus grand coeur du monde
Je vais a la profonde
Pour vous donner du frais. (bis)
Mais déja la patrarque, HH
Au clair de la mouchardefll'ql'
Nous reluque (1e loin."‘"
L’aventure est étrange,
C’était l‘argent-de-change,
Que suivait les roussins. (his)
A des fois l’on rigolc
Ou bien l’on pavillonne §§§
Qu’on devrait lansquinerllllll
Raille, griviers, et cogues {H‘Hl
Nous ont pour la cigogne ****
Tretons marrons paumés. (bis)
This chorus, which we took up, as it were, from
Manon‘s mouth, before she had finished uttering them,
was repeated eight or ten times, in a manner which
almost broke the windows of the house about us.
After this burst of bacchanalian hilarity, the first fumes
of Wine, which are usually most potent, beginning
somewhat to dissipate, we entered into conversation.
The chapter of confidences, according to custom, opened
° Asks his wife. i Say, my love. 1 These thieves.
§Watch stealers. I Burglars. {I Do you not know them?
0“ Breeches. H refit. :1 Ready. #5 Cellar.
|||| Patrol. {W The moon. "“ looks at us.
Hf Spies. 1:: Laughs. §§§ Jokes. l|||ll To weep.
111W Exempt. soldiers, and gendarmes. "" Palace of justice.
11-11 Taken in the act.


MBXOIIS OP VIDOCQ.
by interrogatories. I did not require to be much ques-
tioned. but went beyond the communications which
they desired to know : a stranger in Paris, I had only
known Riboulet in prison at Valenciennes, when he
was sent back to his regiment as a deserter; he was
a college chum, (a fellow-prisoner,) whom I had met
again. As to the rest, I took care to represent my-
self in colours which charmed them: I was a tho-
rough out-and-outer (sactipan fini.) I know not what
Ihad not done, and was ready to do any thing. I
unbosomed myself that they might unbosom as freely
in their turn ; it is a tactic which has often been success-
ful with me: the party soon chattered like magpies, and
I became as well acquainted with all their doings as if
I had never been separated from them. They told me
their names, residences, exploits, misfortunes, hopes;
they had met a man who was really worthy of their
confidence: I returned it, I suited them, and all was
said.
Such explanations always make a man thirsty, more
or less: all the liquor-shops in our road were visited:
more than a hundred toasts were drank in honour of
our new convention, and We were not to separate
again. “ Come along with us, come," they said, and
they were so pressing, that, quite unable to refuse their
importunities, I agreed to go to their abode, Rue
ties Filles-Dieu, No. 14, where they lodged in a fur-
nished house. Once in their abode, it was impossible
to refuse a share of their bed: it is difficult to
describe what good fellows they were; and so was I,
and they were the better convinced of it, as, during an
hour, whilst I pretended to be sleeping, my friend
Riboulet passed an eulogy on me, in a low tone of
voice, of which not even half was true, or I should
have richly merited a sentence for ten times the term
of my natural life. I was not born coifi‘eur, like a
certain personage whom the witty Figaro ridicules,
I was born coifl'é, and had the happiness of killing a
generation of honest men with vexation. At last
voc. Ill. 0


62 unmoms or vmoco.
Riboulet had so completely placed me in good odour
with our hosts, that about break of day they proposed
to me to go out upon ajob with them, a robbery which
they had planned in the Rue de la Verrerie.
1 had only just time to warn the chief of the second
division, who made his arrangements so well, that they
were apprehended with the property about their
persons. Riboulet and I remained on the look out, to
give alarm in case of danger, as the thieves believed,
but, in fact, to see if the police were on their posts.
When they passed near us, all three in a coach, whence
they could not see us, “ Well l" said Riboulet, “ there
they are, like Manon's song, tretons marrons paumés,”
(taken in the very act.) They were also condemned,
and if the names of Debuire, Role, and Hippolyte,
called la Biche, are still on the muster-roll at the Bagnes,
it is the result of an evening passed at Guillotin’s
amongst the children of the sun, (aux enfants du soleil.)
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A frequenter of la Petite Chaise—A room to rob—Father Masson‘s
oranges—The heap of stones—No compromise—A nocturnal can in
elf—The jolly thief—Every man to his liking—My first visit to ice,-
tre—Down with Vidocql Superb discourse—A matter of fear—The
storm is nppeased—They will not kill me.
ansvns frequently fell into my clutches when I least
expected them; it was said that their evil genius im-
elled them to come and find me. It must be con-
essed that those who thus flung themselves into the
wolf s throat were horribly unlucky or internally stu-
pid. When I saw with what facility the majority of
them gave themselves up, I was really astonished that
they should have chosen a profession in which, to avoid
perils, so many precautions are necessary: some of


MEMOIRS OF ‘vrnocq. 63
them were such good-natured fellows, that I considered
as almost miraculous the impunity which they had en-
joyed up to the moment when they met me, and paid
the reckoning of their crimes. It is incredible that any
individuals created expressly to fall into any plot or
snare, should have awaited my coming to the police to
be caught. Before my time the police was either most
clumsily arranged, or else I was singularly fortunate:
under any circumstances it is, as they say, “ give a man
luck and fling him into the sea.” The following recital
is in point. One day, towards twilight, dressed like a
workman of the dock-yards, I was seated on the para-
pet of the Quai de Gevres, when I saw, coming towards
me, an individual whom I knew to be one of the fre-
quenters of the Petite Chaise and the Bon Puits, two
cabarets of renOWn for robbers.
“ Good evening, Jean Leuis,” said this person,
accosting me.
“ Good evening, my lad.“
"‘ What the devil are you doing there? You look as
if you were funking l”
“ What do you mean, my boy? When the belly
grumbles the mouth mnmbles.”
“What, the cupboard empty, that is not right for
you, who are one of the family."
“ Very true, but ’tis so."
“Come along, then, let us have a quart at Nigue-v
nac’s: I have twenty browns left, and we will see how
far they will go.”
He conducted me to a vintner’s, and called for a
bottle, and then, leaving me for an instant, returned with
two pounds of potatoes. “Here,” he said, putting
them smoking hot upon the table, “ here ' are some
gudgeons caught with a spade in the fields of Sablons ;
they are not fried though.’
“ These are oranges, but we want some salt.”
“ Salt, my lad, that will not ruin us."
The salt was brought, and, although an hour before I
had made an excellent dinner at Martin’s, I fell on the
G 2


64 MEMOIRS OF vrnocQ.
potatoes, and devoured them as ifI had not tasted food
for a couple of days.
“You peg away," said he, “as if you would crash
your ivories. (teeth;) one would think that you were
tucking in at a regular spread."
“ Oh, my lad, all that goes down the gullet fills the
bell ."
“yVery true, very true.”
Mouthful followed mouthful with prodigious rapi-
dity, and I did nothing but peel and swallow: I cannot
tell how it was that I was not literally crammed, but
my stomach had never been more complaisant. At
last my task was done, my comrade offered me a quid,
and thus addressed me.
“ On the word of a man, and as true as my name is
Masson, and is the same as my father's, I have always
considered you a hearty blade; I know you have been
unfortunate, I have been told so, but the devil's hoof is
not always at the our man's door, and if you like I can
put you on a go scent."
“ That would not, perhaps, suit me, for my rigging
is not over and above excellent.”
“True! I see, I see, (looking at my clothes, which
were rather tattered,) it seems that at this moment you
are not the luckiest cone in the world."
“ Very right: I have most urgent need of a new fit
out.”
“ In that case come with me, I have a locksmith’s
daughter with which I shall clear out an apartment
[his evening.”
“ Tell me all about it, for I must learn the particu-
lars before I can join you in it."
“ What a flat you are, there is no occasion for you to
be fly.
“ Oh! that is all true as gospel, and I am your man,
only you can explain in two words ."
“ Now, hold your gab, I tell you my plan is settled,
and the booty sure: the fence's ken (receiver’s house)
is only a stone’s throw off. As soon as prigged, so


mmroras or VIDOCQ. 65
soon disposed of; it is a good haul, and you shall have
your whack.”
“ Come, then, let us be ofl'.”
Masson conducted me to the boulevard Saint Denis,
which we traversed until we came to a heap of stones.
There he stopped, looked about him to see that no one
was watching, and then going up to the pile, he took
off several lumps, put his hand into the cavity and
fished up a bunch 0 keys.
“ I have now all the herbs of Saint John,” said he,
“ and we will go together to the corn-market."
On reaching the place, he pointed out to me, at
a small distance, and almost opposite the guard-house,
the house which he intended to enter.
“ Now, my boy," said he, “do not go far distant,
wait for me, and keep your weather-eye open ; I am
going to see if the mot as mizzled, (if the woman of
the house has gone out.)”
Masson opened the side-door, but no sooner had he
shut it after him than I ran to the post, where making
myself known to the chief, I hastily told him that a
robbery was then committing, and that no time was to
be lost, if they would secure the robber with the pro-
perty in his possession. Having done this, I returned
to the place where Masson had left me. Hardly had I
got there when some person, advancing towards me, said,
“Is it you, Jean Louis?"
“Yes, it is me," was my reply, testifying my as-
tonishment that he had returned empty-handed.
“ Oh, say nothing about it; a devil of a neighbour
came up the staircase and deranged my plans; but
what is deferred is not lost. Minute follows minute
and the mutton is boiled at last, as you will see; one
must not compromise oneself."
He then left me again, and was not long in reap-
pearing with a very large bundle, under the weight of
which he was almost sinking. He passed me without
uttering a word : I followed, and walking in close
8 3


66 manoms or vmocq.
tiles, two guards, armed only with the bayonet, followed
him also, making the least possible noise.
It was necessary to know where he deposited his
booty. He entered ashopkeeper‘s at the Rue du Tour,
‘ (the death’s head,) where he only stopped a moment.
“ It was heavy," said he, on coming out, “ and I
have still a good cast to haul in."
I allowed him to go on, and returning again to the
room he had before entered he completed the gutting
of it; and scarcely had ten minutes elapsed before he
descended the second time, carrying on his head a bed,
mattresses, quilts, curtains, and sheets. He had not
had time to make a good bundle of them, and on cross-
ing the threshold, being stopped by the narrowness of
the door, and unwilling to drop his prey, he stumbled
and almost fell, but, recovering himself, he began his
journey, beckoning me to follow him. At a turn of the
street he came up to me, and said, in a low voice,
" I think I shall go back the third time, if you will
go up with me, as we can then get down the window-
curtains and blinds."
“ Agreed,” said I; “ when one sleeps on straw cut--
tajns are a luxury."
“ A luxury, indeed,” said he, smiling; “but no time
must be lost in chatter, do not go far away and I will
hail you as I pass.”
Masson went on his way, but at a short distance
from where we had met we were both stopped. We
were first conducted to the guard-house, and afterwards
to the commissary, who interrogated us.
“There are two of you,” said the public officer to
Masson, (pointing at me,) “who is this man? I sup—
pose a thief like yourself.”
“Who is this man? Do I know him? Ask him-
self; when I shall have seen him once more, that will
be the second time.”
“ You must not tell me that there is no collusion
between you, for you were met together.”


mnmoms or vrnocq. 67
“ There is no collusion, my worthy commissary: he
was going on one side of the way, I was coming on
the other, just as he was passing close beside me,
something slid from me, it was a pillow ; I told him of
it, and he stooped to pick it up, and just then the guard
came up and nabbed us both: this is why I am now
before you, and I wish I may die if it is not the actual
truth. Ask him if it is not.”
The story was not badly imagined, and I took care
not to deny what Masson said, but follow in his track :_
at length the commissary appeared convinced. “ Have
you any papers ?" he inquired. I showed a permission
of residence, which was pronounced correct, and my
dismissal was instantly ordered. An evident satisfac—
tion pervaded the features of Masson, when he heard
the words, allez-vous coucher, (go to bed,) addressed to
me: it was the formula of my liberty, and he was so
much rejoiced at it, that any person must have been
blind not to perceive it.
The robber was still kept, and nothing remained but
to lay hands on the female receiver before she had dis-
posed of the property intrusted to her. An immediate
search was made, and, surprised in the midst of most
material evidence which condemned her, the death's
head was carried off from her trade at the moment
when she least expected it.
Masson was taken to the prefecture of police, and the
next day, according to the custom of thieves, from time
immemorial, when a brother labourer is grabbed, I sent
him a twopenny brown loaf, a hock of bacon, and a
franc. I was told that he felt obliged by the attention,
but had not the slightest suspicion that he who sent him
the tribute of the fraternity was the cause of his mis-
hap. It was only at La Force that he learnt that Jean
Louis and Vidocq were the same person, and then he
devised a singular means of defence; he asserted that I
was the author of the robbery with which he was charged,
and that, wanting his aid to remove the property, I had
gone to seek him: but this long story stated to the


68 menoms or vrnoco.
court would not hear him out, and Masson in vain
pleaded his innocence: he was sentenced to incarcera-
tion.
A short time afterwards I was assisting at the prepa-
rations for the departure of the chain of galley-slaves,
when Masson, whom I had not seen since his appre-
hension, saw me through the grating.
“ Ha!" said he to me, “ Monsieur Jean Louis : arid
so it was you who got me into the stone jug. Oh I if I
had known that you were Vidocq I would have made
you ay for the oranges l“
“ on are a well-wisher of mine, then; you who
made me the proposal of accompanying you I"
“ Very true, but you never told me that you were a
now.” i
“If I had told you so I should have betrayed my
trust, and that would not have prevented you from
doing the job; you would only have chosen another
(11.”
p “ But you are not the less a rascal; I, who was so
kind to you! Now, I would rather remain here as
long as my life continued in my body, than be free, as
you are, and equally dishonoured."
“ Every man to his taste.”
“ That is very line! your taste-a none, a spy—very
fine, trulyl”
“ Why, it is as respectable a trade as thieving; be-
sides, but for us what would the honest men do 1"
At these words he burst into a loud fit of laughter.
“ Honest menl honest men l" he repeated, “you
really make me laugh when I am in no grinning mood.
Honest men! what would become of them? do not
trouble yourself, for it cannot concern you; when you
are at the meadow (Bagne) again you will sing to a
different tune."
" Oh ! he will return there,” said one of the prisoners
who was listening to us.
“He,” cried out Masson, “we do not want him;
luck to the jolly boys! that’s the thing.”


mamoms or vtnocq. 69
Every time that my duties called me to Bicétre I was
sure that I should have to put up with such reproaches
as I received from Masson. I seldom entered into
discussion with the prisoner who apostrophized me:
but I was not always silent, for fear that he might
Suppose, not that I despised him, but that I was afraid
of him. Being in the presence of some hundreds of
malefactors who had all, more or less, to complain of
me, since they had all been apprehended by me, it may
be supposed that it was necessary to evince some firm-
ness, but this firmness was never more requisite than
on the day whenI first made my appearance in the
midst of this horrible population.
I was no sooner the principal agent of the police of
safety, than, most jealous of the proper fulfilment of the
duty confided to me, I devoted myself seriously to
acquire the necessary information. It seemed to me
an excellent method to class, as accurately as os-
sible, the descriptions of all the individuals at w om
the finger of justice was pointed. I could thereby
more readily recognise them if they should escape,
and at the expiration of the sentence it became
more easy for me to have that surveillance over them
that was required of me. I then solicited from M.
Henry authority to go to Bicétre with my auxiliaries,
that I might examine, during the operation of fettering,
both the convicts of Paris and those from the provinces,
who generally assemble on the same chain. M. Henry
made many observations to turn me from a step, cf
which the advantages did not seem to him pro ortioned
to the imminent danger to which I shoul thereby
expose myself.
“I am informed," said he to me, “ that the prisoners
have conspired to play you some mischievous trick. If
you persist—if you go at the departure of the chain,
you will afford them an opportunity which they have
long anxiously awaited : and, by my honour, whatever
recaution you may take, I will not insure your safety,”
Ithanked this gentleman for the interest which he te=lL<


70 MIMOIRB or vinocq.
tied for me, but at the same time insisted that he should
accord me the permission I asked for, and he at length
gave me the order which it was necessary for me to
obtain.
On the day of fettering I went to Bicétre with some
of my agents; I entered the court, and instantly a most
tumultuous uproar ensued, mingled with cries: “ Down
with the spies! down with the villain! down with
Vidocq l” were heard from all the windows, where the
prisoners, mounted on each other's shoulders, with faces
pressed against the bars, were collected in groups. I
advanced a few paces, and the vociferations redoubled ;
the whole place resounded with invectives and threats
of destruction, uttered with accents of fury; it was a.
most infernal sight to look at the visages of these
cannibals, on which were manifested, by horrible con-
tortions, the thirst of blood and the desire of vengeance.
There was throughout the whole prison a most frightful
uproar; I could not restrain an impulse of terror, and
reproaching myself with my imprudence, was almost
tempted to beat a retreat; but suddenly my courage
mounted. “ What 2" said I to myself, “ thou hast
not trembled when thou hast attacked the villains in
their dens: they are here under bolts and bars, and
art thou now scared? Courage; if thou must perish, at
least make head against the storm, and let them not
think they have intimidated thee !"
This return to a resolution more suited to the opinion
which should really be formed of me, was so rapid as
to leave no opportunity for any person to remark my
weakness; I soon recovered all my courage, and, no
longer burthened by a shadow of fear, walked boldly
forward with my eyes fixed on the windows, and ad-
vanced to those of the lower story. At this moment a
new burst of rage was evinced by the prisoners. They
were not men, but ferocious beasts who were roaring:
it was a tumult, a noise; it might have been thought
that Bicétre was about to be rent from its foundations,
and that the walls of its cells were actually gaping


MEMOJRS or VIDOCQ. 71
open. In the midst of this outrageous din, I made a
signal that I wished to speak: a dead silence ensued
after the tempest, and they listened. “ Scum of the
mob,” I said, “ why do you howl thus? It was when
I grabbed you that you should, not have cried out, but
defended yourselves. Shall you be any better for thus
reproaching me? You treat me as a spy; well! I am
a spy, but so are you also, for there is not one amongst
you who has not offered to sell his comrade to me, in
the hopes of thereby obtaining an impunity which I
would not grant you ; I rendered you to justice because
you were culpable. I have not spared you I know;
what motives have I for doing so'! Is there any one
here whom I ever knew when a freeman who can
reproach me with ever having been his accomplice?
Besides, even if I have been a thief, tell me what does
it prove but that I am more skilful or fortunate than
you, since I have not been caught in the fact. I defy the
most malicious to show a tittle of evidence to prove
that I have been accused of robbery or swindling. It
is useless to seek for twelve o’clock at three in the
morning; oppose me by a single fact, one solitary truth,
and I will confess myself the greatest rogue amongst
you all. Is it the profession that you disapprove '.' ‘ let
those who blame me most for this tell me frankly,
whether they do not a hundred times a day desire to be
in my place ?”
This harangue, during which no one interrupted me,
was followed by hooting and shouting. Soon after-
wards vociferations and roarings began again, but I felt
no sensation but that of indignation, and, transported
with anger, I became bold even beyond my strength.
They announced that the convicts were about to he
led into the court of fetters; I went to post myself in
the passage, at the moment when they came to the call;
and, determined on selling my life dearly, I awaited until
they should try to accomplish their threats. I confess
that, in my mind, I desired much that one of them
should attempt to lay hands upon me, so greatly did


72 rrrzrrorns or vrnocq.
the desire of vengeance animate me. Ill fated was
the man who would have dared to assail me! but not
one of these wretches made the least attempt, and I had
only to endure the scowling look, to which I responded
with that assurance which always disconcerts the
enemy. The call terminated, at low murmur was the
prelude to a fresh uproar: they vomited forth im pre-
cations against me; “ Let him come on then, he remains
at the gate,” the convicts bellowed forth, adding to my
name the grossest epithets. Driven to extremity by
this insolent defiance, I entered with one of my agents,
and went 'into the midst of two hundred robbers, the
majority of whom were arrested by me : “ Come on, my
friends l courage," cried they in the cells in which they
were shut up, “look at the pig, kill him, and let us
hear no more about him."
Now or never was the the time ;—“ Now, gentlemen,“
said I to the galley slaves,“ kill him, you see that
they advise you well; try." I do not know what re-
volution of opinion actuated them, but the more I was
'in their power, the more they became appeased. At
the termination of the fettering, those men, who had
sworn 'to exterminate me, were so much softened that
many of them begged me to render them slight services.
They had no reason to repent of having taxed my
kindness, and the next day, at the hour of departure,
after having thanked me, they bade me a cordial fare-
well. All was changed from black to white; the most
mutinous of the previous evening had become supple,
respectful at least in appearance, and almost over.
poweringly so.
This was an experimental lesson of which I never
lost the remembrance. It proved to me that, With
persons of this stamp, we can only be potent when
resolute : to keep them respectful, it is enough to have
awed them once. From this period, I never allowed
the chain to quit unless I attended the fettering of the
convicts, and, with very few exceptions, I was never
afterwards insulted. The convicts were accustomed t6


MEMOIRB 0F vrnoco. 73
see me; if I did not go, it seemed as if they missed
something, and in fact, nearly all of them had some
commission to give me. From the moment they fell
under the control of civil death, I was, in a measure,
their testamentary executor. With a small portion
resentments were not obliterated, but a thiel‘s ven-
geance is not lasting. For eighteen years that I have
carried on the war with thieves, little or great, I have
often been menaced; many galley slaves, celebrated for
their intrepidity, have made oaths to assassinate me as
soon as they should be at liberty ;—they have all
erjured themselves, and will continue to do so. Am
fasked why? It is, that, at first, the only aflair for a
robber is to rob: that alone occupies him. If he
cannot do otherwise, he will kill me to get my purse,
that is his “ vocation ;"—-he will kill me to do away
with a testimony which would destroy him, this is
again a part of his business ;—he will kill me to avoid
punishment ;—but when the punishment is inflicted,
what purpose would it answer? Robbers do not lose
time in assassination.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
Utility of a good stomach—The snsgicious occurrence—The procession
of bundles—The swallows of La Eve—The convenience of a hack-
ney-coach—The swag of these gentlemen—The shipwright's man-
There is no trusting every bod ~Madarne Bras, or the scrupulous
sh$keeper—Anr.ette, or the good'woman—People do not always eat
— he hrst who was king—Vidocq caught, a new piece of which the
last act is passed in a guard-house—l play the part of Vidocq—
Representetion at my benefit—Unanimous npplause—Pumme Rouge
—Le grand Camel—The inspection of papers—l let a robber escape
—The veteran who takes his broth—The author of the Pied~du-
Mouton—The accusing stockings and cravat—I_ lose my five-franc
piece—The fight with the vintner—I am a prehended—The com-
missary‘s round—My deliverance—The ban age falls—Vidocq the
Catcher recognised in Vidocq the Caught—Do you wish for a piece
of good advice F—Mind how the nail is driven l
Om: night, half of which had been spent in the
obscure lurking places of the Halle, hoping to fall in
VOL. III. a '


74 _ msmorns or vrooco.
with some thieves who, in the overflow of that good“.
nature which two or three glasses of liquor, offered at
a fitting time, produces, allow themselves to be
pumped, as to their past doings, those now in hand,
and those meditated,—I was retiring, very much discom-
posed at, having, to the detriment of my stomach,
swallowed from pure vexation a good number of small
glasses of that diluted spirit to which vitriol gives the
strength and flavour, when, at the corner of the Rue
des Coutures Saint-Gervais, I saw several individuals
squatted in the embrasures of the doors. By the light
of the lamps, I easily distinguished beside them packets
which they were endeavouring to squeeze into a
smaller compass, but the suspicious whiteness of which
could not fail to attract attention. Bundles at this
hour of the night, and men who seek an obscure shelter,
when no water was falling ;—a prodigious portion of
perspicuity was not wantingto find, in such a combination
of circumstances, all the characteristics of a suspicious
occurrence. ' I made up my mind that they were
thieves, and the bundles the booty which they had just
obtained. “ Good,” said I to myself, “ let us evince
no suspicions, but follow the procession when it sets
forth, and if it passes by the corps de garde, catch is the
.word ; on the other hand I will see them to their homes,
take the address, and send the police after them.” I
thereupon made up my mind, without appearing to be
troubled with what was behind me, but scarcely had I
advanced ten paces when some one calls, “ Jean Louis l”
it was the voice of a man named Richelot, whom I
had often met at the various thieves' haunts. I stopped
naturally.
“ Ah! good evening, Richelot,” said I, “ what the
devil are you doing here at this time of the morning?
Are you alone? You look frightened.” '
“ Well I may be, I have narrowly escaped being
'nabbed on the boulevar du Temple."
“ Nabbed ! and why ."


marmms or vroocq. 75
“ Why ? here, come this way; do you see our friends
with the bundles?”
“ I am awake; you are loaded with swag,” (plun-
der.)
I approached them ; and the whole party instantly
rising, as soon as they were on their feet I recognised
Lapierre, Commery, Lenoir, and Dubuisson; they all
four hastened to assure me how glad they were to see
me, and to extend the hand of friendship to me.
COMMERY. “ Ahl we narrowly escaped; my heart
still thumps, put your hand upon it, feel how it goes
tick-tack.“
Vrnoco. “ That is nothing."
LAPIERRE. “ Oh ! we have had a fright in real earnest :
I know very well that when I saw the greens,’ my
heart jumped bang into my mouth."
DUBUISSON. “ And just above the market-place were
the hirondelles de la Gréve, (dragoons of Paris,) whom
we met nose to nose on horseback just by la Gaité"
(the theatre.)
Vrnoco. “ What spoonies you are ! you should have
had a drag to whisk ofl the swag in. You are but
greenhorns.“
chuanor. “ Greenhorns if you like; but we had no
means of conveyance, and we have therefore chosen the
back streets."
Vrnoco. “ And where are you now going? If I can
assist you in any way “
RICHELOT. “ If you will pilot us, and give us your
company as far as the Rue Saint-Sebastien,where we
are going to deposit the swag, you shall~ have your
whack.”
Vrnoco. “ With leasure, my boys."
RICHELOT. “ Weii, then, go first, and spy if you
twig any cone: or beaks."
Richelot and his companions took up their bundles
and I went forward. Our progress was fortunate and

* The Parisian guard, whose uniform was green,
H 2


76 unmorns or vrnocQ.
we reached the door of the house without interruption,
each of us taking off our shoes to make no norse as
we went up stairs. We reached the landing-place on
the third story ; they were awaiting us. A door opened
softly, and we entered a vast chamber dimly lighted, of
which the tenant was a shipwright's man, who had
already been before the police. Although he did not
know me, my presence seemed to trouble him, and
whilst he was helping to conceal the bundles under the
bed, I heard him ask a question in a low voice, which
I could ‘guess by the reply, which was spoken in a
louder tone.
RICHELOT. “ It is Jean-Louis, a good fellow; be
quiet, he is staunch.”
Tm: TEN ANT. “ That's all right ; there are now-adays
so many noses and sneaks, that we should be fly to
every cove.
LAPIERRE. “ Oh be easy! be easy! I can answer
for him as for myself: he is a friend and aFrenchman.”
THE TENANT. “ Since it is all right, I will trust him,
and upon the strength of it we will have a shove in the
mouth all round.” '
He got on a sort of stool, and lifting his hand up to
the shelf of an old cupboard, he took out a full bladder,
“ Here‘s the stuff, brandy and nothing but some of
my own prigging. Come, Jean, you shall begin.”
Vrnoco. “ With all my heart, (pouring forth into a
green glass and drinking.) It is capital out and out
tipple, which cheers as it goes down—now it is your turn,
La'pierre; come, sluice your i'vo'ries.” ‘
he glass and bladder passed from hand to hand,
and. when each had drank enough we threw ourselves
on the bed until the morning. At daybreak we heard in
the streets theory of the sweep, (in Paris we know that the
savoyards are the cocks of the least frequented quarters.)
RlcnsLo'r, (jogging his neighbour.) “ Ah! Lapierrc,
we must go to the flmce."
LAPIERRE. “ Let me sleep, do."
RianLoT. “ Come, come, stir your stumps.


unuoms or VIDOCQ- 77
- LAPIERRE. F‘ Go by yourself, or take Lenoir."
RICHELOT. “ You had better come, as you have
already dealt with the old woman, and can make a surer
bargain.”
Laereann. “ Let me alone, I am sleepy.“
Vmoco. “ My G—, what sluggards you are, I wrll
go if you will tell me where.”
RICHELOT. “ You are right, Jean Louis, but the
fence has never seen you and will not deal for the
mag but with us. But if you like we will go to—
gether."
V1 noco. “ Yes, we two, and then another time she
will know my phiz.”
We went. The fence lived in Rue de Bretagne,
No. 14, in the house of a sausage-maker, who appeared
the owner of it. Richelot entered, and asked if
Madame Bras was at home. Yes, was the answer; and
after having gone through the passage we went up the
stairs to the three pair. Madame Bras had not gone
out, but, actuated by a principle of honour, she would
not take in any property by daylight. “ At least,"
said Richelot to er, “ if you cannot take the goods
now, give us earnest; come, it is a good haul, and you
know we deal all upon the square."
“ You say very true, but I cannot allow myself to be
compromised by a pair of good eyes; come in the
evening, then all cats are grey." Richelot tried by
every effort to extract some coin from her, but she was
inexorable, and we retired without having obtained any
thing. My companion cursed, swore, stormed, till it
did one’s heart good to hear him.
“ Well,” said I to him, “ one would imagine that you
had lost every thing. Why vex yourself '! If she will
not, another will; come with me to my fence, I am
sure she will lend us four or five crowns.”
We went to the Rue Neuve-Saint-Francois, where I
had fixed my domicile. By a low whistle, I made
Annette understand that I wgmted her, and she quickly
it


78 mnnorns or vrnoco.
descended and came to us at the corner of the old Rue
du Temple.
“ Good day, Madame.”
“ Good day, Jean Louis.”
“ If you are inclined to be obliging, lend me twenty
francs, and this evening you shall have them again.”
“ Yes, this evening! if you gain anv thing yon will
go to la Courtille.”
“ No, I assure you I will be punctual."
“ May I believe you 1 I will not refuse you then ;
come with me, whilst your friend waits for you at the
cabaret at the corner of the Rue de l’Oseille."
On being alone with Annette I gave her the re-
quisite instructions, and when I found that she clearly
understood them, I rejoined Richelot in the cabaret;
“ Here,” said I to him, showing the twenty francs,
“ is ’what you may call a mat, and nothing but a good
one. ’
“ Parbleu, wo’n’t she post the blunt for the whole of
the swag.” 1
“ I think not. She is only a fence for metal, tickers,
and fripperg." v'
“ It is a pity, for she is an out and out mot, and just
such a one as would suit us well,”
After finishing our bottle, we set out to regain the
lodging, where we found ready a Normandy goose of
first-rate quality, and some other prog. I produced
the money, and as it was intended for further supplies
for the victualling oflice, our host went out forv a
dozen of wine and some bread. We were all so sharp-
set that the provisions seemed only to appear and then
vanish instantly. The bladder of brandy was drained
to the last drop. Our meal terminated, it was pro-
posed to open the packets. They contained most beau~
tiful linen, sheets, shirts of extraordinary fineness, gowns
with superbly worked borders, cravats, stockings, &c.
all damp and wet. The thieves told me that they had
taken the booty from one of the largest houses in the


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 79
Rue de l’Echiquier, where they had introduced them-
selves by a Window, of which they had broken the bars.
The inventory concluded, I proposed that we should
make different lots, and not sell them all in the same
place. I insinuated that they would give as much f0r
each lot as for the whole in a lump, and that two sales
were better than one. My comrades were of the same
opinion, and made two divisions of the booty. It then
became a matter of ‘question as to how to get rid of
them; they were sure of the sale of one lot, but wanted
a purchaser for the second. A clothes-seller, called
Pomme Rouge, in the Rue de la J uiverie, was the man
whom I pointed out to them. v He had long been
pointed out to me as a regular fence,—goods taken in
and no questions asked. Here was an opportunity of
putting him to the test, and I was unwilling that it
should escape, for if he were caught, the result of my
plans was infinitely more agreeable ; for instead of only
one fence, I should cause the arrest of two, and thus
I should kill three birds with one stone.
It was agreed that they should make an offer to my
man, but nothing could be done till the darkey, and
what was to keep us from ennui till then? What could
we converse about? Amongst robbers the communion
of martyrs has not mental resources sufficient to keep
up conversation for more than a quarter of an hour.
What can be done'! priga do nothing, unless at work,
and when at work they do nothing. But yet it was
necessary to kill time; we had still some money before
us, wine was voted for by acclamation, and we again
commenced our libations to Bacchus. The sons of
Mercury drink fast and long, but yet one cannot always
be drinking. If, indeed,-topers were like the buckets
of the Dana'ides, open at one end and'with holes at
the other, disgust would not proceed from plenitudel
Unfortunately, each man has his capacity, and when,
between the bladder and the brain, the wave, whose
place of exit is too narrow, remounts towards its source,
there is no need to say, my worthy friend, that if we


50 mauoms or vrnocq.
would avoid unpleasant consequences we must stop :
this our com anions did. As they thought they had
need of their head for some later period, and as a thick
cloud already began to spread over the osseous vault
which covers the potent ruler of all our actions, that
they might not lose all guidance, the insensibly ceased
to make a funnel of their mouths, an only opened them
to talk. What was the nature of their conversation?
The talk, which they would have been much posed to
keep up on any other subject, turned on their comrades
who were at the Bagne, or in prison. They also spoke
about spies.
“ Talking of spies," said the shipwright, “ you must
have heard of the celebrated rogue who has turned nose,
that Vidocq; do any of you fellows know him 2”
~ ALL 'roorzrnen. (myself in chorus.) “ Yes, yes, but
only by name.”
mersson. “ I know they talk a good deal about
him. They say he comes from the Bagne, where he
was sentenced for twenty-four years."
THE'SHIPWRIOHT. “ You are wrong, you flat. This
Vidocq is a prig, who was sentenced for life for his
many escapes. He was allowed to be set at liberty be-
cause he romised to blow the gaf, and that is the rea.-
son that ye stops at Paris. He is a deep file; when
he wants to trap a covey he tries to make friends with
him, and, as soon as he has done that, he sli 5 some
swag into his cly and then all is done; or else e leads
him on to some job that he may be caught at work.
He it was who floored Bailli, Jacquet, and Martinet.
Oh G—, yes it was he! let me tell you how he did
them.”
ALL roe-muss. (myself in chorus.) “ Did them, well
said, my lad." ,
Tm: SHIPWRIGHT. “ Whilst drinking together with
another like himself, you know him, the rip Ri-
boulet, Manon’s fancy man.”
ALL. “ Manon la Blonde’s 1'"
Tu: Survwruonr. “ Yes, she. They were speaking


mruoms or vrnor-Q. SI
of one thing and another, Vidocq says, as he had just
left the Bagne, he wanted to find some friends to prig.
The others are caught in the net. He tickled them so
well, that he leads them to a spot of work, in the Rue
Grand Zurleur. It was thought that he would blow
the gaf to the police, and so he did. They were all
taken, and in the mean time the rascal escapes with
his comrade. ‘ This is his plan for catching good fel-
lows. It was he who brought all the chauifevrs to he
kissed by the headsman’: daughter after having been
their leader." \
Every time the narrator aused we refreshed ourselves
with a glass of wine. fapierre, profiting by one of
these pauses, spoke thus. -
“ What, is it that cock and bull story ? He talks like
a magpie. He is chafing us. Do you think such
gammon amuses us? vI like to amuse myself.”
Tin: SHIPwnron'r. “ What the deuce will you do,
then? If we had any books, (cards,) we might handle
them a bit.”
LAPIERRE. “ I'll tell you what we will do, act a play.”
Tm: SaIPwmon'r. “ Go it then, M. Tarma(Talma.)"
LAPIERRE. “ Do you think I can play by myself i"
_chunr.or. “ We will help you, but what shall be the
piece!"
DUBUISSON. “ The play of Caesar; you know there is
one of that name, who says, the first who was king had
a happy lot."
APIERRE. “ Oh, none of that blarney ; let us play
the piece of Vidocq caught, after having sold his bre-
thren like Joseph."
I scarcely knew what to think of this singular busi-
“e_§81 however, without being at all disconcerted, I
cried out suddenly, “ I will play Vidocq ; they say he is
a stout chap, and it will suit me.”
“ You’re stout," said Lenoir, “ but he is much
“Outer.” 4
“That is no matter,“ observed Lapierre, “ Jean
uis is not a. bad representation, he weighs his weight."


82 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
- “ Come, then, we don't want so much jaw about it,"
said ltichelot, lifting a table into one corner of the
room. “ You Jean Louis, and you Lapierre stand
there; Lenoir, Dubuisson, and Etienne, (the ship-
wright) go to the other end: they shall be the.
friends, and I will seat myself on the bed and be the
people.” -
“ What people?" inquired Etienne. “ Why the au-
dience if you like. The shipwright is a booby."
“ I am a spectator too.”
“ No, you stupid ass, I am. You are a friend, take
your place, the play is going to begin.”
We imagine ourselves in a public-house at la Cour-
tille; each talks. I get up, and, under a pretext of
asking for some tobacco, enter into conversation
with the friends at the other table, I speak a little
slang, they find me a downy cove, and give me a know-
ing look, which I return, and it is found we are all lads
of the same profession. They follow the customary
usages of society,—a glass more than necessary. I
complain of being without a job of work. They com-
plain, and we all complain together. We commence to
be very full of mutual compassion and sympathy ; I curse
the beaks, they curse them too ; I swear at the big wigs
of my quarter who persecute me; my friends look at
each other, consult each other’s e es, and deliberate
upon the opportunity offered by, or t e disadvantages of,
my acquaintance. They take my hand, they press it,
I consent; it is agreed that they may rely on me.
Then comes the proposal—the character I play is
that which, with but few variations, '1 always have
played—I only alter a little, by putting the stolen goods
into the pockets of my friends. Then was heard the
unanimous applause, accompanied by shouts of laughter,
“ Well done, well done," cried the actors and the wit-.
ness of this scene.
“ Well done, certainly,” said Richelot, “but see the
sun is setting and it is time to trump,- the play can
finish in the drag, or elsewhere, when we have done


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 83
with the fence; I will go and get a jarvey, if you
fellrrws like 1"
“ Yes, yes, let us be off.”
The drama was progressing well, we were approach-
ing the climax, but it was doomed to be a very differ-
ent one from that anticipated by these gentlemen, for
the catastrophe was not in accordance with the title of
the piece. We all got into a hackney-coach, and desired
the coachman to stop at the corner of the Rue de Bre-
tagne, and the Rue de Tourraine. Bras, one of the
fences, was waiting at a short distance. Dubuisson,
Commery, and Lenoir alighted, taking with them the
portion of the merchandise which we had agreed to
sell. Whilst they were agreeing about the price, I saw,
on looking from the window, that Annette had fulfilled
my intention. Persons whom I saw, some with their
noses in the air, as if seeking for some number, others
walking about like idlers, were not in this quarter, I
thought, without some motive.
After ten minutes of expectation, we were rejoined by
our comrades who had been to Bras. They had
brought away ne hundred and twenty-five francs for
things worth a least six times as much ; but it was of
no consequence, they were not sorry to realize what
they were in haste to enjoy.
There remained those bundles which we had reserved
for Pomme Rouge. On reaching Rue de la Juiverie,
Richelot said to me, “ Come, you must go and bargain,
you know the downy fence ,
“That will not do,“ I replied, “I owe him money,
and we have had a row about it."
I owed Pomme Rouge nothing, but we had seen
each other, and he knew that I was Vidocq. It would,
therefore, have been imprudent to show myself, and I
left my friends to arrange these matters, and on their
return, as the appearance of Annette in the vicinity of
the shop gave me the certainty that the police was on the
qui vivc, I proposed to discharge the coach and go and


84 MEMOIRS or vrnoco.
sup in the cabaret of the Grand Casuel, on the Quai
Pelletier, at the corner of the Rue l’lanche Mibray.
After the visit to Pomme Rouge we were richer by
eighty francs. and the sum at our disposal was so con-
siderable, that we might give way to some excess with-
out fear of distressing ourselves, but we had no time to
expend it, for scarcely had we got our glasses in hand
when the guard entered, followed by a posse of inspec-
tors. At the sight of the veterans and the spies all
their countenances fell, and the general feeling was
“we are caught.” Thibault, the peace-officer, asked
us for our papers, some had none, and others were not
correct, mine were amongst these latter. “ For the
charge of all these sparks," said the peace-officer,
“safe bind, safe find.” We were tied two and two,
and conducted to the commissary. Lapierre was
coupled with me. “ Have you good legs?’ I said to
him in a low tone. “Yes,” was his reply, and when
we reached the top of the Rue de la Tannerie, taking
out a knife I had concealed up my sleeve, I cut the
cord. “ Courage, Lapierre, courage l" I cried. With
a blow of my elbow I prostrated the veteran who had
taken me by the arm; perhaps it was the very man
who has since become food for Martin the bear;
whether or not I darted away, and with a few leaps
reached a small alley leading to the Seine. Lapierre
followed me, and we reached the Quai des Ormes
together.
They lost all traces of us, and I was very glad to
have escaped without being recognised. Lapierre was
equally rejoiced, for not having had any time for reflec~
tion, he was far from suspecting any sinister motives in
me; but, in fact, if I favoured his escape, it was in the
hope of introducing myself, under his auspices, into
some other band of thieves. By fleeing with him I
removed all suspicions that himself or his companions
might have conceived, and kept up the good opinion
which they had of me. In this way I hoped to make


msmoms or vwocq. 85
new discoveries, for as I was a secret agent I was
desirous of acting as quietly as possible.
Lapierre was free, but I kept him in sight, and was
ready to give him up the moment he was no longer
useful to me.
We continued running towards the hospital, where
at length we stopped, and entered a cabaret to recover
breath and rest ourselves. I ordered a measure of wine
to refresh us; “ Here, lad,” said I to Lapierre, “ here is
a comforter."
“ Oh yes, it is hard work.‘
“ And difficult to keep up, is it not ?"
“ Nothing can drive the idea from my mind
“ What ?”
“ Here, let us drink.”
And no sooner had be emptied his glass than he
became more pensive; “No, no," he repeated, “no-
thing can drive the idea from my mind."
“ What do you mean? tell me.”
“ “'ell, then, I will tell you."
“ You are right; but first you will do well to take 08'
the stockings you have on your feet, and the cravat
about your neck.”
Lapierre was nearly in the same condition as the
celebrated author of the Pied du Mouton, when, to de-
scend in the garden of the Palais Royal, he had no other
covering on his feet than the dress-stockings and white
satin slippers of his mistress. As it seemed to me that
I perceived in the eyes of my friend that dark scowl of
mistrust which, if one does not take care, increases so
rapidly, I was glad to testify one of those marks of
interest, the effect of which is to reassure a suspicious
mind: such was my aim in advising him to remove
from his attire some articles of small value, which,
during the overhauling of the booty, his associates and
himself had immediately applied to their own use.
“What shall I do with them ?" said Lapierre.
F‘ Throw them into the river.”
VOL. In. I
’7
u


86 MEMOIRS or vroocq.
“ I’ll not be such a fool! the silk stockings are quite
new, and the cravat has never been hemmed.”
“ Silly nonsense.”
“ You want to laugh at me, my boy; throw away
your own first.”
I begged him to observe that I had nothing on that
could compromise me. “ You are like the hares,"
I added, “ you lose your memory as you run; do you
not remember that there was no cravat for me, and
with trowsers like these (touching those I wore) would
you have me wear women’s stockings T'
Y He took off the stockings which, folding up, he
enveloped in the cravat.
Thieves are at the same time misers and spendthrifts:
he felt the necessity of removing these convicting
'articles out of sight, but his heart bled at the thoughts
of not making a profit by them. It is because the pro-
duce of robbery is often so dearly paid for, that the
sacrifice of it is always painful.
Lapierre was most anxious to sell his stockings and
cravat, and we went together to the Rue de la Bticherie
to offer them to a shopkeeper, who gave us forty-five
sons for them. Lapierre appeared to have made up his
determination since the catastrophe of Grand Casuel;
yet he was constrained in his manners, and if I am any
judge of what was passing in his mind, in spite of my
efforts to reestablish myself in his opinion, I was
strongly suspected. Such feelings were not very
favourable to my projects, and persuaded that hencefor-
ward I must not temporize, but bring matters to a
speedy termination, I said to Lapierre, “If you like
we will go and sup at Place Maubert."
“ I will, if you please,” was the reply. '
I took him to the Dem: Freres, where I called for
wine, pork chops, and cheese. At eleven o’clock we
were still at table, every body had retired, and they
brought us in a bill which came to four francs fifteen
centimes. I immediately cried out, “ My five-franc


unuorns or VIDOCQ. 87
piece, my five-franc piece! where can it be?" I rum_
maged all my pockets and searched myself from head to
feet. “ My God! I must have lost it in running:
look, Iapierre, if you have it 'l"
“ No, I have only my forty-five sous, and not a
dump besides."
“Look for it, I am going to try and arrange with the
people.” I olTered the cabaretier two francs fifty cen-
times, promising to bring him the remainder on the
marrow; but he would not listen to me. “Ahl you
think,” said he, “ that you may come and have all you
want here, and then ay me with monkey’s allowance.“
“ But,” I observe to him, “ it is an accident which
might happen to the most honest man."
“ That’s all my eye! When one is low in cash
we are trickish or so; a. cup of wine, or so, one would
not mind, but it is ’no go to have a whole supper on
tic .”
“Oh, never mind, old lad; if it accommodates good
fellows, never mind.”
“ Come, come, not so much jaw; pay me, or I‘ll fetch
the guard.”
“ The guard! that for the guard and you too ;”
accompanying the words with a gesture of contempt
much used by common people.
“ Ah, you vagabondl is it not enough to carry
off my property 1'” cried he, doubling his fist and thrust-
ing it in my face. “ Do not strike me,” I replied to his
apostrophe, “do not strike me, or '
He advanced towards me, and I instantly hit him a
blow. A quarrel and uproar followed, which Lapierre
thinking would come to serious consequences, judged it
best to mizzle; but on the very moment when he was
about to make off and leave me to extricate myself as
best I might, the waiter seized him by the throat and
cried out “ thieves."
The guard-house was nigh, the soldiers came in, and,
for the second time in that day, we were placed between
two ranges of those candles of Maubeuge whose wicks

' i 2


88 nremoms or erocQ.
have a smell of gunpowder. My comrade endeavoured
to prove to the corporal that he was not in fault, but
the veteran was immovable, and we were shut up in the
guard-house. Lapierre became silent and sad as a
brother of La Trappe, he did not even unclose his
teeth. At length, about two o'clock in the morning,
the commissary went his round, and asked to see the
persons in confinement. Lapierre first appeared, and
was told he might go if he would pay the bill. I was
called in my turn, and on entering the room recognised
M. Legoix. The recognition was mutual, and in two
words I explained to him what I had done; I told him
the place where the stockings and cravat had been sold,
and whilst he hastened to seize on these articles, which
were requisite to convict Lapierre, I returned to him.
He was no longer silent.
“The bandage has fallen," said he, “ I see what lS
done, it was all a plot.” y _
“ What! you are laughing at me, but Iwill speak
frankly. Yes, it is done, and it is a plot, but it was
you who got us into the trap."
“ No, my friend, it was not me; I do not know who,
but I suspect you more than any one else."
At these words I grew angry, he furious: to threats
succeeded blows, and we proceeded to fight until we
were separated. As soon as we were parted I found
my five-franc piece; and as the cabaretier had not
reckoned the thump I gave him, it was enough for me
not only to satisfy all his demands, but also to ofl‘er to
the corps de garde, I will not say the stirrup-cup, but
that small drop of farewell token which the snob always
pays willingly. This tribute paid, there was no further
reasons for my detention, and I started off without pay-
ing my adieu to Lapierre, who was now known; and the
next day I learnt that the most complete success had
crowned my efforts. The two fences, Bras and Pomme
Rouge, had been surprised in the midst of ample
proofs of the nefarious traffic which they carried on;
the robbers had been apprehended with theproperty


unmoms or vrnocq. 89
which they had instantly applied to their use, and they
were compelled to confess; Lapierre alone had tried
denial of the facts, but, confronted with the shopkeeper
of Rue de la Bucherie, he was decidedly and positively
recognised—the stockings and cravat were his ac-
cusers. The whole gang, robbers and receivers, were
sent to La Force, in the expectation of judgment;
there they soon learnt that the comrade who had played
the part of “Vidocq caught,” was, in fact, “Vidocq
the catcher.” Great was their surprise; how they must
have commended the admirable talents of the comedianl
The sentence confirmed, all were ordered to the Bagne.
The evening before their departure l was present when
they were fettered, and, on seeing me, they could not
forbear smiling.
“ Behold your work, you villain,” said Lapierre,
“ you are content, no doubt.”
“ I have, at least, no reproach to make against my-
self, I did not advise you to steal. Did you not make
up to me? Why be so confiding'.’ When a man
exercises a rofession like yours, he ought to be more
on his guard?"
“It is all well,” said Commery, “ you are sure to be
at the galleys again yourself.“
“In the mean time a good journey to yourself.
Keep my place for me, and if ever you return to Pantin
(Paris) do not play at such dangerous games again.”
After this reply they conversed together, and
Richelot said, “ Well, well! I owe him a turn.”
“ As for you,” replied the shipwright, “ you brought
him amongst us. Since you knew him, you ought to
have known that he was a nose.“
“ Ah, yes! it was Richelot who brought it upon us,"
sighed Pomme Rouge, who was being fettered, and
nearly had his head broken by the hammer which was
rivetting his collar.
“ Do not move," said the smith roughly. “ It
was be, it was he," replied the fence, “ who floored
us, and'but for him --—.”
r 3


90 Mnmoms or vrnocq.
I.
“ Stand steady, you fool, and mind your eye." These
were the last words I heard, but as I went away I saw,
by certain gestures, that the colloquy grew warmer.
What are they saying? I know not.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Now for Saint Cloud—The aspiring spy—The scheme of diversion, or
the deceitful stratagem—An earl Visit—The disorder of a sleeping
chamber—Singular comments— 0 report—They are honest fellows
in the faubonrg Saint Marceau—The turkey's claws—Take care of
our shoes—Sacrifice to the god of fat paunches—Deus est in nobis—
udas’ lan nage—The policemnn's nectar—Explanation of the word
Trm' e— he two mistresses—The man who arrests himself—Content
'ves wings—The new Epictetus—A monologue—Dospairing incredu-
fi‘ty-Change from n tilhur to wooden shoes—A tradition—The unis~
tress of a Russian rince— rown bread and the tit-bits of Tortoni—
Mother Barioli.h he 01d seraalio, or the hell of is kept woman—
Prostltutes and hackney-coach orses—The friend of all the world—
The invulnerable—The picture of the Sabines—The holy arch—The
money-box—Infandum reginajubes—Hfitred to epanlettes—Good sen-
timents—A strange religion—The lottery ticket and the nt'feriu to
Sninte-Genevieve—Exnni le of remarkn le fidelity—Penelopth he
oath—l know the benuti ul mask—Journey through Paris—Louison
la Blagueuse—The monster—A fur —-Crue1 duty—Emilie in the
guard-house—Return to Bariole’s— I‘he friend’s bottle—The Syhil'l
tripod—Philemon and Barrels—Josephine Real, or the fruits .of 5
00d education—Philosophical reflections on concord and death—
hree arrests—The traitor punished—A trait of active morality—A
liberation—Answer to critics.
IN the summer of 1812, a professed thief, named
Hotot, who had long sought to be reinstated as a secret
agent, in which employment he had been engaged pre-
viously to my admission into the police, came to offer
his services to me for the féte of Saint Cloud. It is
known as one of the most celebrated of the environs of
Paris, and that, led by the concourse of persons, pick-
ockets assemble there in large bodies. It was on
‘riday that Hotot was brought to me by a comrade.
This step appeared to me the more extraordinary, as I
had previously given information against him which


IEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 91
had led to his being brought before the court of assims.
Perhaps he only desired to connect himself with me
that he might the more readily play me some ill turn:
such was my first thought, but I received him kindly,
and even testified my satisfaction that he had not
doubted my wish to be of service to him. I evinced so
much apparent sincerity in my profl'ers of good-will
towards him, that it was impossible for him to conceal
his intentions from my penetration. A sudden change,
which overspread his whole face, convinced me
instantly, that, in accepting his offer, I was favouring
some plans which he was not willing to confide to me.
I saw his internal congratulations at having duped me.
But be that as it might, I feigned to have the utmost
confidence in him, and it. was agreed that, on the
following Sunday, he should go, at two o'clock, and
post himself near the principal basin, that he might
point out the thieves of his acquaintance, who, he told
me, would come to work at that spot.
On the day appointed, I went to Saint-Cloud with
the only two agents I then had under my command.
0n arriving at the destined place, I looked out for
Hotot; I walked backwards and forwards, looked about
me on all sides, but no Hotot. At length, after waiting
for at least an hour and a half, my patience being worn
nearly threadbare, I despatched one of my staff to the
principal walk, desiring him‘ to endeavour to find an
auxiliary whose want of punctuality was as suspicious
as his zeal.
My agent searched for an entire hour, when wearied
with exploring every hole and corner of the garden and
gtrk, he returned and told me that he could not find
Otot. The moment afterwards I saw my man him-
self running towards me bathed in perspiration, “ You
do not know,” said he to us, “ that I had just got hold
of 'six priga', but they saw you and instantly mizzled ,-
I am sorry, for they swallowed the bait, but what is de-
ferred is not: lost, and I shall'have them yet.”
I pretended to take all this'for gospel, and Hotot


92 mrmoms or vmocq.
was convinced that I had not any doubt of his veracity.
We spent the greater portion of the day together, and.
only separated about twilight. I then went to the
gendarmes’ station, where the- eace officers told me
that many watches had been sto en in a direction pre-
cisely opposite to that in which, by the advice of
Hotot, our watch was kept. It was then plain to me
that he attracted us to one point, that he might the
more easily work in another. It is an old stratagem in
the tactics of diversion and false information given by
thieves that they may have less fear of the police.
‘ Hotot, whom I took good care not to reproach in any
way, imagined that he had completely gulled me; but if
I said nothing, I did not think the less, and increasing
my show of friendship towards him, whilst he was
meditating a renewal of his Saint Cloud trickery, I was
on the alert to catch him tripping at the first opportunity.
Our friendship being still very close, the opportunity
presented itself earlier than I had even dared to hope.
- One morning, when returning with Gafi'ré from the
faubourg Saint Marceau, where we had passed the
night, I suddenly determined to make a visit to Hotot.
We were near the Rue Saint Pierre aux Boauf, where he
resided. I proposed to my comrade of the watch to
accompany me, and, on his assenting, we went to Ho-
tot's, where, on knocking, he opened the door and ap-
peared surprised to see us ; “ what a wonder at this
early hour.’
“ Are you astonished '2” said I; " we come to have a
glass with you.” '
“ Oh! you are welcome ;“ and then jumping into
bed, “ Where is the liquor T’
“ Gafi‘ré will be so kind as to fetch it.”
I put my hand into my pocket, and as Gafl‘ré, as a
Jew, was less careful of his trouble than his money, he
willingly undertook the commission, and went out for
that purpose. During his absence I remarked that
Hotot had the air of a man who has gone to bed later
than usual; the room was, besides, in avery extraor-


Mimoms or vrnocQ. 93
dinary state of disorder. His clothes, rather torn
than taken off, seemed'to have had a heavy soaking;
and his shoes were covered with white clay, which
was still wet. Not to have concluded from all these
indications that Hotot had but recently returned, would
not have been Vidocq. For the moment I thought
nothing more of it, but my fancy soon wandered into
the wide field of conjecture, and I conceived suspicions
which I took care not to evince; I would not even
appear curious, that is to say indiscreet, and, for fear of
disquieting my worthy friend, I did not ask him a
single question. We s ke of the rain and the fine
weather, but more of t e fine weather than the rain,
and when we had nothing left to drink we went away.
Once out of the house, I communicated to Gafi'ré
the remarks I had made; “ I am much deceived,” I
added, “ or he has been abroad all night; there has
been something in the wind.”
“ I think so too, for his clothes are still wet, and his
shoes covered with mud! He has not been walking
in the dust.”
Hotot hardly thought that we were talking of him,
but yet his ears must have tingled. “ Where has he
been? What has he done i" we inquired of each other;
perhaps he has joined some gang. Gafl'ré was no less
puzzled than myself, and we were compelled to think
that Hotot might be honest after all.
At twelve o’clock, we went to make our report on
the transactions of the night; our account was not very
interesting; nothing has occurred was the whole con-
tents. 'Ahl said M. Henry to us, the people in the
faubourg Saint Marceau are all honest! I had much
better have sent you to the boulevard Saint Martin ; it
appears that the lead robbers (voleurs de plomb) have
renewed their work; they carried off more than four
hundred and fifty pounds from a house newly built.
The watchman, who pursued without catching them,
says, they were four in number. The robbery was
effected during the heavy shower of last night.”


94 unmoins or vrnocq.
“ During the heavy shower! parbleu l” I cried,
“ you know one of the robbers."
“ Who is he '5"
“ Hotot."
“ He who served the police, and who asked leave
again to enter it i"
“ The same."
I told M. Henry my suspicious and remarks, and as
he was convinced that I was correct, I went out in-
stantly, that I might with all possible speed convert
what was at present but presumptive evidence into
proof positive. The commissary of ~ the quarter in
which the robbery had been effected, went with me to
the spot, and we found in one place on the ground the
deep imprint of two nailed shoes, and the earth had
been indented by the weight of a man. These traces
could afl‘ord precise indications ; and precautions were
taken that they should not be efi‘aced. I felt perfectly
assured that they were exactly fitted to Hotot s shoes,
and taking Gaffré with me to him, that I might verify
my suspicions without alarming the culprit, I devised
the plan, which was this executed. On getting to
Hotot‘s residence we made a tremendous noise at the
door.
“ Get up, get up, we have brought the poultry.” He
arose, turned the key, and we stumbled into the room
like men somewhat stupid with liquor.
“‘ Hallo 1" said Hotot, “ allow me to pay my respects
to you. You have been warming the oven early this
morning.” '
" Yes, and we have come to you,” I replied, “ to
finish the baking. You are very cunning,’ I added,
showing him in its covering a purchase which we
had made as we came along, “ guess what we have in
here.” -
“ How can I guess?" Then, tearing the corner of the
paper, I exposed the claws of a bird.
“- Ah! sacre dieu l?’ he cried, “ it is a turkey.”
“ Yes, a brother of yours, and, as you see, it is by


MEMOIRS or viuocq. 95
its feet that we know this sort of animal: do you un-
derstand me now 3"
“ What does he sa 1“
“ I say it is wasted.”
“ Oh ! it should be baked with venison fat."
“ Venison fat ! here look at it."
I handed the bird to him, and whilst he examined
and turned it over and over, Gafi'ré stooped down,
picked up his shoes, and put them in his hat.
“ Well, and what did you give for this bit of hol-
low P”
“ Seven bob, a kick, and eight mag."
“ The d ! Seven shillings and tenpence. That
is the price of a pair of shoes.”
“ Exactly so, my boy,” said the pilferer, rubbing his
hands.
“ Here is plenty to bite at; and how well it smells,
quite deliciously, it lS perfectly tempting! We will soon
settle his business.”
“ Who carves? I cannot.”
“ Well, then, we will help you; is there a knife in
the box?”
“ Yes, look in the drawer."
I found a knife, and then sought an excuse to send
Gafl'ré out. “ Oh, by the way,“ said I, whilst I
laid the cloth, “ you can oblige me by going to my
house, and saying, that they need not wait dinner for
me."
“ Very well, and then you will be off without me;
that is no go ,- I shall not cut my dick until I have had
some grubbery.” .
“ But we cannot eat without drinking."
“ Well, then, I will have the liquor produced."
He opened the window, and called to a vintner,
“ And now,” he added, “ you cannot play me any trick.”
Gafli'é was like the majority of police agents, and,
except being treacherous, a good enough fellow; but a
perfectgourmand. With-'him the belly superseded all
other business; and thus, although he had obtained


96 usmoms or vrnoco.
possession of the shoes, which was the main point in
the affair, I saw I could not induce him to leave the
place until he had had his share of the eatables. I
astened, therefore, to cut u the bird, and when the
wine arrived, “ Come to ta le,” I cried to my gastro-
nomist, “ make haste, and cram your fill." '
Hotot’s bed was his table, and without any forks
but those of father Adam, we made to the god who is
within us, that is the god of Ventrus, a sacrifice in the
manner of the ancients. We ate like ogres, and the
repast was quickly terminated. “Now,” said Gafi'ré,
“ 1 can Ioddle. I know not if you are like me, but
when the sun shines in my stomach, I am good for
nothing; when the chest is full it is a. different matter."
“ Well, then, mizzle."
“ D. I. 0.”
He took his hat, and disappeared.
“ Now he is gone," said Hotot, with the tone of a
man who is not sorry to be left alone with another for
some time. “ Well, my friend Jules, is there never to
be a vacancy for Hotot T’
“ Patience, patience, all will come in good time."
“ It is only for you to say a good word for me, and
M. Henry would listen, if you would ”
“ It must not be to-day, then, for I expect a good
rowing; Gafi'ré will not escape, for we have not sent
in our report these two days."
This lie was not without its purpose; it was not no-
cessary that Hotot should think I had been informed
of the robbery in which I believed him a articipator;
he was without mistrust, and I kept him in t at security ;
and, for fear he should think of getting up, I led the
conversation to those points which most interested him.
He spoke to me successively of many affairs. "“ Ah 1"
he said, sighing, “ if I were certain of enterinithe po-
lice again, with a pay of twelve or fifteen bob day, I
could give such information! I know now of a bur-
glary, which would be a welcome disclosure to M.
Henrylf V


98 measures or VIDOCQ.
should instantly communicate them to M. Henry, and
recommended him to find out the place where the
three thieves slept. He promised to point out the house,
and when we had agreed upon preliminaries, we sepa.
rated. Gatfré had not left me. “ Well l“ said he, “ it
is he, the shoes fit precisely, and the impression is very
deep. In leaping from the window he must have
fallen with all his weight." This was the signification
of the word traifl'e ,- and now I had only to take mea-
sures accordingly. I had already explained Hotot‘s
conduct to myself, and I readily conceived the part he
wished to play. In the first place, it was clear that he
committed the robbery with the intention of making
his profit by it, ‘but he was chasing two hares at once ;
by pointing out his accomplices he attained his second
object, that of making himself of consequence in the
eyes of the police, that he might thereby be reesta~
blished in their employ. I trembled to think of the
consequences of such a combination. Wretch, said I
to myself, I will contrive that he may have the recom-
pense of his crime, and if the unhappy creatures who
ave aided him in his expedition are convicted, it is
but just that he should be a partaker of their sentence.
I did not hesitate to believe him the most guilty of the
whole, and from what I knew of his character, it seemed
most probable to me that he had led them on to it,
only to contrive a job; I even went so far as to think
that it was possible that he alone had committed the
robbery, but thought it advisable to accuse of his own
crime those individuals whose misconduct made them
suspected characters. In each of these suppositions,
Hotot was a great rogue, and I determined to rid
society of him.
I knew that he had two mistresses, one Emilie Si-
rmonet, who had several children by him, and with whom
he lived as a husband; the other Félicité Renaud, a
common girl, who doated upon him. I thought I could
contrive to attain my ends by setting these rivals at
loggerheads, and by their mutual jealousy light the


MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ- 99
fiarnbeau that was to show him to justice. Hotot was
watched, and in the afternoon I learned that he was in
the Champs Elysées with Félicité. I went to him there,
and taking him aside, told him that I required him on
an affair of extreme importance.
> “ You must know," I said, " you are to be appre-
hended and taken to prison, where you must pump a
cave that we shall nab this evening. As you will be
in quad before him, he will not take you for a sneak,
and when he is brought in you can easily plant your-
self upon him.“
Hotot accepted the proposition with joy. “ Ah !“
he exclaimed, “ I am then a spy once more! You may
rely on me, but I must first take leave of Félicité.“
He went towards her, and as the hour of nocturnal
seductions, or padding the pave' for the amorously dis-
osed, was nigh, she was not angry with him for leaving
er so soon.
“ Now you have got rid of the mat, I will give you
instructions. You know the little ken on the boulevard
Montmartre in front of the Theatre des Variétés T'
“ Yes, Brunet's."
“ Well, go there and seat yourself at the further end
of the room with a bottle of beer, and when you see
two of the inspectors of the officer of peace, Mercier,
enter—you know them ?”
“ Know them! do you ask me such a question, who
am an old trooper?“
“ Well, as you know them it will be all right : when
they come in, make them a sign that it is you, that they
may not mistake you for any other person.“
“ You be easy, they will not mistake me.“
“ You know it will be disagreeable if they should
lay hands on some unlucky citizen.“ ,
“ Oh! there shall be no mistake, I' shall be there,
and then the signal agreed on; The signal will do all.”
“ You understand clearly?"
“ Yes, do you take me for a fool? I will not give
them the trouble to take a second glance.” '
x 2


100 meuoms or vrnocq.
“ All right, they shall have the countersign, and as
soon as they perceive you, they will know what they are
to do: they will arrest and convey you to the station
'of Lycée, where you will stay two or three hours, and
then the youth you are to pump, having already seen you
there, will not be surprised to meet you again at'the
de 0t."
2 Give yourself no uneasiness; I will do the trick so
well, that I will defy the most downy cove to discover
that I am not situated exactly like-himself. Besides,
you will see how cleverly I do my work, to the very
letter.“
He seemed so hearty in the business, that I was
really sorry at being compelled to deceive him thus,
but, reflecting on his conduct .towards his comrades,
the feeling of pity which I had momentarily expe-
rienced was dissipated never to return. He gave me
his hand, and we parted; he walked with all the ve-
locity of eager satisfaction; the earth seemed scarcely
to hear him. On my part, no less swift than he, I flew
to the prefecture, where I found the inspectors I had
mentioned to him; one of them was named Cochois,
now a watchman at Bicétre ; I told them what they
were to do and followed them. They entered the house,
Searcer had they crossed the threshold, when Hotot,
faithful to the orders I had given him, pointed to him-
self with his finger, like a man who says, “ It is me."
At this signal the inspectors went up to him, and asked
for his letters of protection. Hotot, as proud as Arta~
banes, answered that he had none. “ Then you must
come with us,” was the immediate rejoinder, and to
prevent him from running away, if he should be so in-
clined, they secured his hands with cords. During
this operation, a sort of internal content overspread the
face of Hotot: he was happy to find himself caught:
he blessed his bonds : he contemplated them almostwith
love, for, as he believed,'ail this preparation was but a
ceremonious form ; and in fact, like some philosopher
of antiquity, he could boast of being free in his chains;


mamoras or vmoco. 101
and he saidv in a low voice to the inspectors, “ Devil
fetch me if I run! The mauleyc and trotters are tied ;
you could not do more to secure a regular workman.“ '
It was about eight in the evening when Hotot was
brought to the guard-house: at eleven o‘clock they had
not brought in the person from whom he was to extract
confession, and the delay began to appear extraordinary
to him. Perhaps the individual might have escaped
the pursuit of justice, or, perhaps, he had already con-1
fessed. In that case the aid of a sneak was useless; I
know not what conjectures the prisoner formed, I only
know that at length, tired with waiting, and thinking
they had forgotten him, he asked the serjeant of the
guard to inform the commissary of police that he was
still there. “ If he be there, let him remain there,"
said the commissary, “it is no business of mine."
This answer transmitted to Hotot awakened no other
idea than that of a negligence of 'the inspectors. “ If I
had my su per now," he added, with the comico-seria
accent of t at lachrymose gaiety which is less touching
than laughable;—“ they are making sport of me, perhaps
they are stnfling away in some comfortable corner, whilst
I am supping here with Duke Humphrey." Twice or
thrice he called, sometimes the corporal, sometimes the
serjeant, to relate his griefs to them; he did not even
leave the officer of the guard alone, but‘supplicated him
to allow of his being set at liberty. “ I will return, if
necessary," he added ; “ what do you risk, since I was
only grabbed for a particular urpose 2"
Unfortunately, the ofi-icer,‘w o'told us all these parti-
culars next day, was one of those incredulous personages
whose obstinacy is not to be shaken. Hotot was only
tormented by his appetite; now, with persons who
think there is such a thing as remorse, this might have
been construed into presumptive innocence, but with
those who trust only to lock and key—fatality had
included this officer in the number; and, besides, not
having anyrpower to act for himself, however desirous
of so doing, he drew the bolt upon Hotot, who, unable
K 3


102 rrsnoms or vrnocq.
4
to obtain anything from the inspectors, made his moan
in the following broken and interru ted soliloquy,
which, heard through the door, excite .mirth, by his
alternatives of grotesque resignation and impatience.
“ Oh! I say, though, it is coming it a little too
strong to keep me here all night l—impossible—they are
coming—no; no more an inspector than I am a king
—what the deuce keeps the brutes ?—If I were behind
them I would apply a quickener—if it is not their fault,
to be sure, nothing can be said—They certainly planted
me for the purpose—yet, why don’t they bring in the
cove—perhaps he has done them—If he be not caught
in the fact they can do nothing with him.-—There is no
fun in all this, though, to me, who have not tasted food
since I arose—Come, gentlemen, as soon as you please,
at your earliest convenience—I am quite ready—but we
can’t always have our own way.—What a devil of an
unluck go for me i—It plays the deuce with my
Stomac ; I want to eat, and have nothing.-—How my
belly cries cupboard.--This is a nice new year's pre-
sent, I must confess.-Do they want to try my appetite '9
—A very excellent method, certainly—fasting is good
for young people.—Never mind, never mind, it will not
kill me this time, and I shall breakfast all the better in
the morning—I will wager they are guuling away at
some cabaret,the brutes!—If I were near them-this is
a good joke, certainly, an admirable farce.—In the name
of all the devils in h , and the saints in the calen~
dar !—Well, why put yourself out, my boy 'f—Hunger
makes the wolf leave the woods—get out, get out
yourself, boy, it is easy enough—if I had but my,
turkey of this morning—if my friend Jules were here
—he does not know, ah! if he knew."
Hotot said, as the people say, “ if the king knew ;"
but whilst he was deploring my ignorance, and so very
far from foreseeing the consequences of an arrest, which
he supposed pretended, I, exploring the little streetsrin
the neighbourhood of the lace du Chatelet, had joined
Emilie Simonet, in one of) those low haunts where, to


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 103
suit light purses, a landlady keeps liquors and lasses'
both tendingto the same end and serving for the same
purposes. Here the liquors are like the secret entrance
of the lottery-office, a means of deceiving the spy: the
shamefaced lover enters, under the pretext of taking a
glass of wine, and is doubly poisoned. It is to this
sort of blind coffee-shop that the refuse of prostitutes
crowd, and heap their favours on the beastly drunkard,
or make terms with the poverty of their customer.
More than one ci-devant beauty, now reduced to her
calico petticoat, her coarse apron, and wooden shoes,—
unless she prefer philosopher, (shoes of fifteen, twenty,
or twenty-five pence,) here boasts of the tradition,
almost forgotten, though recent, of those charms which
procured for her the cachemere and splendid veil which
she displayed in the cavalcades of Montmorency, or
else in the elegant tilbury which conveyed her to Bagat-
telle. I have seen many of these vicissitudes, and to
give one of the million examples, there was a friend of
Emilie, named Caroline, who had been the mistress of a
Russian prince. In her days of splendour, a hundred
thousand crowns a year did not pay the expenses of her
establishment ; she had equipages, horses, lackeys,
courtiers; she had been very handsome, but her beauty
had entirely faded. She was Emilie‘s companion, and
even more degraded than her. Constantly muddled
by liquor, she never had a lucid interval. The lady
of the house, who provided her attire, for Caroline had
no longer a rag of her own, watched her as closely
as a cat does a mouse, lest she should sell her clothes.
A hundred times she had been found at some low hole
of vice naked as a worm; she had drank away every
article of dress, even to her chemise. Such is the sad
condition of these wretched creatures, almost all of
whom have had, at one time of their lives, a run of
good luck: after having the means of literally rolling
in money, they feel the want of a crust to stop the
cravings of hunger, and those palates, on which the
delicacies of Tortoni pulled, find a relish in the pota-


104 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
toes of La Grove. it is in this catalogue of courtesans~
that are to be found those damsels who form the delight.-
of the paviors, messengers, and water-bearers: kept
by the libertines of this laborious class, whose libe-
ralities form their main chance, they, in their turns,
when not smitten by some fencing-master, or street~
singer, support the thieves, or, at least, if they are in
good keeping, by way of return, they comfort them-
during their dungeon woes, and in the dead season of
the year.
The comrade of the princess Caroline, Emilie
Simonet, or madame Hotot, was one of this stamp :
hers was a kind heart perverted; I met her at mother
Bariole‘s. Mother Bariole, a good woman, if there
ever was one, and as honest as it was possible in her
profession, had a sort of consideration amongst the de-
bauched beings who infest these places in double capa_
'cities; these revolting porticoes of a sanctuary, where,
braving all disgust, lust and misery caress each other
by turns. For nearly half a century her establishment
was the providence and last refuge of those daughters
of Luis, whom the consequences of their fall from
-virtue, and time, so swift in his outrages, have cast
headlong under the same control as the stream and
the bank: it is the old seraglio, where no one must
penetrate who desires to rejoice his mind by delightful
images: here is no enchantress! The Armida of the
Chaussée d’Antin is but a hideous trull, who, alternat.
ing between a prison 'and a hospital, exhausts, in her
-0wn person, the vicissitudes of a career—whose last
hope must be to die on a dunghill. In this asylum,
the luxury of the Rue Vivienne is superseded by the
trumpery of the Tem 1e: and she who, during the
ephemeral triumph 0 her attractions scarcely bud-
ded, disdained the first fruits of the fashion, finds
still wherewithal to deck herself in that faded finery,
'whi‘ch, falling lower and lower, has, at length, reached
'the wardrobe of mother Bariole. Thus vwe see a
broken-down prad of the hackney drag assume, with


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 105
pride, the harness which humiliated him in the days
when his well-fed carcass formed the glory of a splendid
equipage. If the comparison fails in nobleness of idea,
it is just in fact.
It would be a curious history, and rofitable to mo-
rality, to have the narrative of some 0 mother Bariole's
nymphs: it might be to the purpose to add to it the
biography of this venerable matron, who, laced for
fifty years in the very centre of blows from sts, tricks
from feet, thrusts from swords, &c., has passed through
the whole period without a single scratch; the friend of
the police, the friend of the thieves, the friend of the
soldiery, in fact, every body’s friend, she has preserved
herself invulnerable in the midst of storms innumerable,
and of the thousand and one battles of which she has
been spectatress. Sabine or Roman when the combat
commenced, woe to him who touched a hair of the
mother’s head! Her counter was like the holy arch,
it was the neutral territory _which even the flying bottles
respected. This is, indeed, being loved! not one of
the Sabines who would not have shed her blood for
her. It was a glorious sight to see her in the morning,
as they were all thronging round her to tell their
dreams about the lottery; and at the approach of
quarter-day, when the savings destined to pay the rent
was insufficient, because the money-box had been
broken open, the poor girls would work themselves ill
to make up the deficit! What misery if the abbess, to
satisfy her landlord, was compelled to spout her silver
mugs! In what could she then warm the little sugared
wine which she drank with her Swiss, or her gossip,
When, chatting together, and deploring the hardship of
the times, nose to nose, and with elbows on the table,
they soothed their sorrows with a cu of comfort,
This dear mother Bariole, how often s e sent to the
Mont-de-Piété for the militia of good conduct, (bureau
demwurs,) to_regale them with oysters and white wine!
llow generous the inspectors found her, and how com-
passionate the thieves! The confidence of the latter


106 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
she never betrayed. With what interest did she listen
to the wailings of those who were out of work, and,
sending a sprat to catch a herring, if she augured
well of the fortune of any one of them, under the guise
of friendship she handed over the cup of consolation ;
nay, even the creature on tick, if the unemployed
cracksman was likely soon to be flush. “ lVork, my
children,“ she said to the labourers of all classes, “ to
be welcome to me you must always be doing." She
did not advise the soldiery in the same way, but gained
their affections by attentions that were endless; she
cursed the police with them, and to perfect their plea-
sure, in case of a disturbance, she never sent for the
guard until the last extremity. She detested colonels,
captains, adjutants, sub-lieutenants, in fact, all epau-
iettes ; but then she doated on worsted lace, and no-
thing could equal her afl'ection for subalterns in general,
and particularly those who were well-looking : she was
a mother to them all. “ Ah, my darling l" I have heard
her often say, “ when you return with the serjeant you
will be a major.” ' ‘
‘ “Yes, mother Bariole, and between the hours of
parade the house shall be merry.” '
Maman Bariole is still alive, but since I am not
now called on to visit her, I know not if her establish-
ment be sup orted on 'the same system. At the time I
knew her, she had all the love for me which a spy
could ever have expected from her. She was delighted
when I asked for Emilie Simonet, who was her favour;
ite. Mother Bariole thought I was about to throw the
handkerchief in her harem. 1'
“You cannot ask me for any one whom I would
more readily give to you.” -
' “ Is she, then, your favourite?" I
“ What do you mean? I like women who take care
of their children : if she had put them out of the way, I
would never have looked at her again. Those poor
little things did not ask to ‘be born: why should not
ChriSt'ians have as much natural 'afl'ection as animals?


marrorns 0F vrnocq. 107
Her last is my godchild,—-the very image of Hotot, the
very spit of him. I wish you could see her, she grows
like a mushroom; she will be no fool: there will be no
occasion to teach her any thing; she will know every
thing."
“She is forward, indeed.”
“ Yes, and pretty: a little love! let her only be
until she is as old as a fifteen sous piece, and I know
she will bring her mother in as much money as she can
carry. With a daughter one always has a resource,”
“ Certainly.”
“ Yes, yes, the good God will bless her, Emilie; and
then she has not, for a long time, had any mishap with
the men.” , . , ' _
“ Does the good God meddle with these things?"
“ Ah, certainly, you chaps are unbelievers, you be-
lieve in nothing."
“ You have some religion, then, mother Bariole.“ ‘
“ I hope I have: I do not like priests, but that is all
the same. It is not eight days since I had a nine days’
devotion made at Sainte-Genevieve for a safe passage
of some liquor from Brussels, and the butt arrived
safe and sound."
“ And the end of the wax candle, have you burnt
that?”
“ Hold your tongue, you heathen."
“ I will lay a bet that you have some Easter cake at
your bed-hea ."
“ A little, my boy! people should not live like
brutes.” -
Bariole, who did not like to be thwarted about her
creed, began to call to Emilie.
“ Come, make haste,” she cried; “ wait, my son, I
am going to see if she has finished.”
“That's right, for I am in a hurry.” Emilie soon
appeared with a corporal of artillery, who, without
looking behind him, immediately took leave of her.
“ Since he did not ask for his dram," observed
Bariole, “ we will put it back into the bottle."


108 MEMoms or vmocq.
“ I will drink it,” said Emilie.
“ No, no, Lisette.”
“ You joke, it is paid for.” (drinking)
“ Ah! there are flies in it."
“ That will make your heart gay,” I cried.
“ So it will, well said. Is it you, Jules, what are you ,
doing in this quarter?"
“ I heard you were here, and said to myself, I must
see Hotot's wife, I will have a drop with her.” 7
“ Agathe,” called Bariole, “bring a pint ;” and
Agathe, according to custom, pretending to go down
into the cellar, went out by the back door to the vint-
ner’s, whence she brought a flask, of which she reserved
three parts, and, by baptizing the rest, obtained the
quantity required.
"‘ This is not adulterated,” said Emilie to me, whilst
I poured it out into her glass, “ see, it makes bubbles
on the top, which is a good sign; I will drink again.“
I pleased her much by giving her plenty of drink,
but that was only the first step towards gaining her
confidence; and wishing to reach, insensibly, to the
catalogue of her complaints against Hotot, I managed
so skilfully, that the change of conversation did not:
giveher any suspicion. I first began by deploring my
own lot, and these girls, when lamentations are made
which have any relation to their own, are never slow in
joining chorus: I have seen many of them, before the
second pint has been emptied, burst into tears and
'weep like Magdale'nes; at the third, I became their
best friend; then there was no further restraint, all
that was heaviest upon their hearts came forth with a.
sudden explosion; it was that moment of overflowing
confidence, when the exordium is always, “ The world is
full of troubles, every one has his own." Emilie, who
'had, during the day, tolerably well washed down her
gricfs, was not slow in commencing her tale of woe on
the subject of her rival and Hotot's infidelities.
“Is he such a rover, your Hotot? fellows like him
do not deserve to have wives. To leave such 'a woman


MEMOIRS or vwoco. 109
as you for a Félicité! between ourselves that Félicité
is a ; if I had to make a choice, I give you my
word that I would give you the preference.“
“ Come, Jules, you are battering me down. You
are trying it on! I know well enough that Félieité is
the better looking ; but if I am not so swell, I have my
heart in the right place. You saw it when I used to
take the :cran to Lorcefé ; (La Force ;) that is the time
tOjudgedf one is true or not.
“ That is true, you took every care of him, I was wit-
ness to that."
“ Now, Jules, have I not done all a woman could do
for him? The blackguard, one can scarcely keep one's
temper! I did it to the inju of my trade. I am sure
that no one could say a war against me; a married
wife and all could not have done more.”
'“ What is it you say? she would not have done so
much.“
“To be sure not, but it is not only that, he knows
how disposed I am to have children—whilst he had been
fifteen months in quad did I have a young one without
him? Is not that virtue'! and now he would deprive
me altogether. My shoe knows what I have under-
gone, and would tell long tales if it could speak; did
it not have those ten sous pieces which passed under
the very nose of Bariole? He ought to remember
them ; but cut ' off the rope from a rogue‘s neck
and —-."
“You are right I" It. was not Fe’licité, then, who
gave them to him 1'“
“Félicité! she would sooner have eaten him. But
it is always those that they love best,“ (she sighed and
drank, sighed and drank, sighed, and drank again.)
“Since we two are together, tell me have you seen
them together lately? tell me the truth, and on the word
of Emilie SimonetI which is my real name, may every
drop which has entered, and shall enter my lips turn to
poison, may I die on the spot, or may I be nabbed
VOL. rxr. L


110 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
when easing the next rull I make a plant upon, if I
open my mouth to him about it.“
“ Why should I tell you? you women are all
blabs.”
“ On my word and honour," (assuming a solemn air
and tone,) “by the ashes of my father, who is as dead
as you are alive .”
This Homeric form of speech is no longer in use,
except amongst the priestesses of Venus-Cloacina.
Whence it came to them, I know not. Had some
washer-woman's daughter sworn by the ashes of her
mother,—but by the ashes of my father! The words
are even more formidable than the propheticnebulas
which alarmed Fontenelle : they comprise an entire
monography. In the mouth of awoman who would
seem to be honest, they are always a bad augury, what-
ever be her appearance or real situation; without run-
ning the risk of deceiving her, one can say, “ I know you,
beautiful mask.” This oath, considering the quality of
the persons who use it, has always appeared to me so
burlesque, that it has never been uttered in my presence
without exciting in me an irresistible impulse to
laugh.
“ Laugh away, laugh away,” said Emilie to me, “ it
is laughable enough, is it not? Come, now, be quiet :
it is true, there is no pleasure with him, he believes no-
thing. May I be the greatest wretch under the canopy of
heaven ; by all that I hold dearest in life; by the life of
toy child, which is an oath I never make; may all the
miseries of life befall me if I speak of you to him.” At
the same time pulling forward the thumb of her right_
hand, the- nail of which, scraping against her upper
teeth, escaped with a slight noise,-—she added, crossing
herself as she spoke, “now, Jules, it is sacred: now it
is all as right as if a notary had signed articles between
us.”
During this conversation our pint measure had been
frequently filled, and the more the Penelope of Motor


MEMDIRS or vrnoeq. lll
drank, the more pressing she became, and the more
solemnly pledged herself to silence.
“ Indeed, my boy Jules, you should tell me, when I
promise you that he shall know nothing of it."
“Ah! you are such a good wench that loan keep
nothing from you; but I forewarn you, do not nose,
if so, take care of yourself. 1 would not be the death
of you, but Hotot is my friend, you know."
“There is no danger, and when any one tells me a
thing (pointing to her breast) it is there—it is death.“
“ Well, then, I went this evening to the Champs
Elysées and there saw your man with Félicité; they
were quarrelling at first; she declared that he had you
in his room in the Rue Saint Pierre aux Bteufs. Ile
swore that he had not, and that he no longer kept up
any connection with you. You know that when she
was by I could not do otherwise than say as he did.
They made it up, and, afterwards, from some words
they let fall, I think he passed the night before last with
Félicité at the Place du Palais Royal."
“ Oh, then, you’re wrong, for he was with his
friends."
“With Cafi‘in, Bicétre, and Linois; Ilotot told me
that.“
“ What, did he tell you? He forbade my speaking of
it: that is just like him, and then afterwards, if any
accident should happen to him, he would fan me well."
“ Oh, don‘t be alarmed; I am not the man to bring
a friend into a scrape ; ifI am a spy, I have my feelings
about me still l"
“ I know, my dear Jules, that you were compelled to
enter the police, or else return to the Hague.“
“It is all the same, police or not, I am all right still;
and if I had any one to lay my clutches on, Hotot is
not the man.“
“You are right, my boy, never snitch uprm com-
rades: and now, my lad of mettle, tellme, where did he
go with the mat .9"
“ Do you wish to know? They went to roost at
L 2


112 MEMOIRS or VlDOCQ.
Bicétre's. I cannot give you the address, for I did not
ask for it.’
" Oh ! gone to Bicetrel right as my hand, right as
a trivet—I will go and stir them up.”
" I will go with you—is it far off?
“ You know the Rue du Bon Puits ?"
1‘ Yes.”
“ Well! it is then at Lahire’s, on the fourth pair of
stairs. Now she shall carry my ten commandments
in her face. Jules, have you a six liard piece? let me
have it, that I may mark the soles of her feet with it."
“I have not one." ‘
-“ Never mind, I have my key in my handkerchief ;_
Oh I’ll kick up a h— of a row. I thought something
would turn up this morning, for I had three knaves in
my hand of cards.”
“ Listen to me, don't be too much in haste. That
will not be the plan to find if they be there or not.
You can trust to me, let me have my way : if I ,remain,
you will know what it means,-—that I have found the
birds at roost.”
" That‘s a good idea, let us be sure before we begin
to make an uproar.”
We reached the Rue du Bon Puits, and I entered,
when having assured myself that Bicétre was in his
lair, I rejoined Emilie, whose brain was actually turned
by wine and jealous .
“ Well, now, see how unlucky we are l they have just
'left with Bicétre and his wife, to go and sup at Linois’s .
I asked where, but they could not inform me.”
F‘ P’r’aps they would not; but that is of no conse-
quence, none at all. I know where Linois hangs- out,
at his mother’s. Come with me, you shall go and ask
her, that they may have no suspicion of anything."
“ Oh! you will take me from place to place till
morning i"
“ What, Jules, do you refuse me? Ah, my dear boy,
don't refuse, don‘t refuse, you shall have no reason to
repent it—I will give you as many kisses as you like."


neurons or VIDOCQ. I [3
How could a kiss, and such a kiss, be resisted? I
went to the Rue Jocquelot, and then I climbed to the
sixth story, where I saw Linois, who did not know my
name.
“ I am looking for Hotot,“ I said to him, “ have you
seen him 7“ “ No,“ was the reply, and as he was in
bed, I retired, after having wished him good-night,
“ We have the luck of it! I have again been thrown
off my scent : they have been here, but are now gone to
seek for Caflin to stand some wine. Where does Caflin
pitch his tent i”
“ Why I should be puzzled to tell you, but as he is
a petticoat hunter, I am sure we shall find him amongst
the women in the Place aux Veaux. Come along.“
“ Why we shall traverse the four corners of Paris.
It is getting late, and I have no time to spare."
“ Pray, Jules, do not leave me, the inspectors will
perhaps grab me."
As compliance was useful, I did not persist in my re-
fusal. I went with Emilie to the Place aux Veaux, and,
from ken to Iran, taking draughts of courage in each oa-
baret, we flew onwards to the place where I hoped to
perfect my informations. We flew, I say, though the
expression is somewhat strong, in spite of the weight
on my arm ; Emilie, very much intoxicated, had much
difficulty to put her feet on the ground. But the more
she staggered, the more communicative she became, so
that she disclosed to me the most secret thoughts of her
faithless swain. I learnt from her all that I required
to know concerning Hotot, and I had the satisfaction
of convincing myself that I was not deceived in judging
him capable of directing the thieves whom he proposed
to give up to the police. Emilie hoping to find Hotot,
and I to discover Cafiin, when a girl named Louison
la Blagneuse, whom we met, told us that he was with
Emilie Taquet, and that he would pass the night either
at Bariole‘s or at Blondin's, who was also an encourager
of loves. “ Thank ye, my little one,“ said Simonet to
the sister cyprian, who gave us this welcome information.
L 3


114 MEMOIRS or vinocQ.
“ It is just so,“ she continued, “ Bicétre is with his
wife, Linois and Caflin are with theirs, Hotot is with
Felicité, every Jack has his Jill: the wretchl he shall
have my life or I will have his; I don’t mind being'
killed; (grinding her teeth and tearing her hair ;) Jules,
do not leave me, I will massacre them, my friend, I will
massacre them i"
During this ebullition of vengeance, we were still
going forward, until at length we reached the corner of
the Rue des Arcis. “ What are you doing, Melie 1'”
grunted out a harsh voice, and a female approached us.
“ It is the petite Madelon," cried Emilie. ,
“ Ah my lassl how are you? I am on the look out:
have on seen Caffin this evening 2“
“ aflin, do you say T‘
“ Yes, Catlin.” e
“ They are at mother Bariole‘s.“
No hour is unfitting that can be turned to its pur.
pose. Besides Emilie was one of the house. We went
in and learnt that Catfin was there, but that Hotot had
not made his appearance. On this intelligence, Ma-
dame Hotot imagined that they wished to deceive her.
“ Yes, you encourage his vice," she said to Bariole,
“ give me my man, you old
I do not remember the epithets she heaped uponher,
but there was, for a quarter of an hour, an incessant
firing, supported by a succession of glasses of tape
oured upon the wine which had already fermented
Jealousy to its height. “ Will you cease with your
bullying ?" interrupted Bariole, who was an excellent
trumpeter. “ Your manl your man! he is at the mill,
and the devil may fetch him. Did you put him into
my keeping? He is a fine kiddy ! Every body’s man 1
Such fellows as he are to be picked up—. You think
he is with Cafiin, then go and see: go to Taquet‘s
chamber."
Emilie did not allow her to say so twice, but went
to convince herself, and returned. “ Well,“ said Bariole,
“ are you satisfied now ?“


mnnroms or vroocq. 115
“ There is no one there but Caflin.“
“ Did I not tell you so 2"
“ Where is the brute, where is the monster 1'"
“ If you like,” I said to her, “ I will take you to
him.”
“ Oh pray do, I beg of you, Jules.”
“ It is a long distance from here, at the Hotel d'An'
gleterre.”
“ Do you think he is there 1'"
“ I am sure of it; he went to pass an hour or two
and wait until Felicité has finished her evening, and
then he will go and meet her in the Rue F roid Man-
teau."
Emilie did not doubt but that I had exactly guessed
the fact, and would not delay a moment; she was burst-
ing with rage, but would give me 'neither peace nor
quiet until I had consented to undertake to go with her
to the Hotel d’Angleterre. The transit appeared long,
for I was the knight of a lady, whose centre of gravity,
vacillating excessively, gave me much trouble to keep
my own equilibrium ; however, half dragging, half car-
rying the belle, I reached the Rue St. Honoré, and the
very door of the haunt where she trusted to find her
man, We went through the rooms, and without fear
of disturbing the amorous téte-d-tetes, glanced our
eyes over each closet which was ranged on both sides
of the corridor. Hotot was not there, and the rival of
Félicité was transported beyond bounds, her eyes were
starting from their orbits, her lips covered with foam;
she wept, she stormed, she was an e ileptic, a demo-
niac; with dishevelled hair, pale, her eatures frightfully
and spasmodically contracted, and the sinews of her
neck stretched by passion, she presented the hideous ap-
pearance of one of those corpses to whom galvanism
has restored motion. Terrible effects of love and brandy,
jealousy and wine! Yet in the crisis which thus agi-
tated her, Emilie did not lose sight of me, but clinging
to my arm, swo e never to quit me until she had un-
kennelled the ingrate who had thus tormented her.


116 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
But there was now no more that I wished to learn,
and for some time I had' been endeavouring to' rid
myself of her, and make her understand that I was
going to inquire if Félicité had returned, which was
soon done, as she lived in a house where there was a
doorkeeper. Emilie, who had received so much com-
plaisance from me, could but be pleased with my offer,
and Iwent out without any attempt on her part to
follow me; but instead of performing the commission I
had undertaken, I went to the corps de garde of the
Chateau d'Eau, when making myself known to the
chief officer, I begged him to arrest and keep her in the
closest confinement. It certainly pained me to push
matters to this extremity, for after all she had evinced
it will be agreed that Emilie deserved a better fate, but
this night she certainly passed in the guard-house. How
painful it is sometimes to perform strict duty! No
one knew better than myself where was the beloved
whom she was cursing; was I not necessarily deprived
of the satisfaction of proving him innocent when she
supposed him guilty? Perhaps, before I proceed fur-
ther, it may not be useless to say whyI had caused
Hotot to be apprehended. It was that he might not
have time to exculpate himself by the removal of all
traces of his share in the robbery, or in bargaining
for his safety with the police. But the tender Emilie,
why imprison her? Had I not to dread her return to
Bariole’s, where, in the loquacity of intoxication, she
might utter reminiscences which would put Cafl‘in on
his guard? It may be objected that she was not in a.
state even to keep herself upright-l I will not dispute
that; but the reader must remember that, from the
experience of children and drunkards, certain phi-
losophers have been induced to think that men (and
women of course included) were originally quadru-
peds. Emilie, even on four paws, could have regained
her domicile, and then her tongue would soon have
returned, and my measures must infallibly have been
betrayed. -


unions or vrnocQ. 117
After all these precautions, Hotot being already in
my clutch, I had only to secure his three accomplices,
and I knew where to prick for them all. I took two
agents with me, and soon afterwards presented myself
at Bariole’s in the name of the law.
“Ah 2” said the mother, “ when I saw you bring
your body here, I feared all was not right. What will
these gentlemen take?" she added, addressing my two
aide-de-camps. “ You will take something to be sure,
what shall it be? from the small bottle that I keep for
friends 3" and whilst speaking, she stooped to rummage
in her counter-drawer, whence she took, from amongst
a parcel of millinery, an old gilt flask which contained
the precious liquid. “ 1 am obliged to hide it, or with
these girls—ah! people are much to be itied who
have to deal with women. I vow, it ever can get a
means of living—how happy they are who have an
income to live upon I See, I have not enough to pro-
vide myself with an arm-chair. Here is one like a
skeleton, we can see its bones.”
“Ohl come, tell us about your sofa; it has beau-
tiful hair, and one leg in the air most gracefully,“ said
a young girl, who, when we entered, was slee ing on a
table in the corner of the room; “ it is like hilemon
and Baucis Z”
“ What, is that you, little Real? I did not see you.
What are you chattering about with your Philemus and
Baucou ? What are you talking about ?”
“ I said,” replied Fifine, “ that it is like the Sybil’s
tripod."
“ Good, good, it is the tripeman's armwhair; you
shall not say so of it any longer. I will have it new
stufl‘ed. You see she has had an education, and is not
an ignorant beast like us: see what it is to have pa-
rents. But I know enough to enable me to carry on
the war. Come come, Fifine, draw the cork of this
bottle and have a drop." ‘ '
“ You are very kind, ma‘am."
“ Do not tell any of the others."


ll8 rumours or vrnocq.
The glass was poured out, and adouble row of pearls
was formed on the surface of the Coignac.
“ It is delicious; I say it is in the Coatico Barbara,”
observed Fifine.
“ Well, gentlemen,” resumed Bariole, “ shall we
leave a drop for the Capuchins'! Fill, I drink to
you. Here’s to you my men; here we are all in
perfect harmony, and yet we must die some day i It
is so pleasant to agree when friends meet! Ahl my
God, yes we must die, and that pains me, and yet we
have all toil and trouble on this earth; it is too much
for me, there is not a minute when the idea does not
ass through my mind; but let us live honestly, that
is the main thing, and then we can always walk with
our heads up.-—Let us not be led into temptation. In
my case, die when I may, no one can re roach me
with wronging them of the value of a pin’s ead. But
what leads you here at this hour, my children? Not
for my girls; they are all quiet; if you want a sample,
look at her (pointing to Fifine.) But, by the by, Jules,
what have you done with Melie Z"
“ I'll tell you presently ; give us a candle."
“ I will bet you want Caflin. Good riddance ; I
assure you he is a regular fancy man.”
“ And a woman thumper, too i” added Fifine.
“ We don’t often see the colour of his blunt," said
Bariole. “ See, Jules, on this slate is the expense and
earnings of his wife; she cannot get enough for the
fellow. If Paris could be cleared of such vagabonds,
we should be better off." I She offered to lead me to the
pensioner’s chamber, but as I knew the way as well as
she did, I declined the offer. “ The second door," she
said, “ with the key in it.“ I could not mistake, and
entering the room told Caffin he was my prisoner.
“ Well! well! what’s the row 1'" said he, waking;
“what, is it you, Jules, who have nabbed me 1"
“ What do you mean? I am no conjuror, and if you
had not been snitched, I should not have come to dis-
turb your sleep."


arr-moms or vrnocq. H9
“ What, at the old game, but it won't do; old birds
are not caught with such chaff."
“ Just as you please, it is your own affair; but if
what they say be true your fortune is told—you are
bound for a trip to the Bagne.“
“ Yes, believe that and drink water, you will never
be full." -
“ “'ell then, if you must have it all to convince you,
listen. I have no interest in pumping you. I repeat
that I could not have guessed your haunt had I not
been told that you flicked some double tripe (lead) on
the boulevard Saint-Martin, when you narrowly escaped
the watch, or you would not have needed my visit.
Are you fly now? Out of the quartette that made the
gang, one has blown the gulf, guess the nose and I will
tell you.“
Catlin reflected for a moment, and then, lifting his
head up like a horse who rears, “ Jules, " he said, “ I
perceive one of the party has started, take me to the
big-wig and I’ll make a clean breast on‘t too. There
is no harm in peaching when others have nosed first.
It is another thing with you, who are a spy by com-
pulsion, for I know that if you could make agood hit
you would give the police the go-by."
“ As you observe, my boy, if I had known what I
now know, I should not have been amongst them, but
when our senses leave us we do many things we cannot
undo.”
“ Where are you going to take me to l“
“ To the station of the Place du Chatelet, and if you
will tell the facts, I will inform the commissary."
“ Yes, tell'him to come, I will trap that
tot, for it is only he who could have blown us.“
The commissary came. Caffin confessed the crime,
but at the same time did not fail to accuse Hotot,whom
he pointed out as his only accomplice. He was not
a false brother. His two friends showed the same
friendship ; surprised in bed, and interrogated se-
Ho~


I20 narrows or vrnocq
parately, they could not do otherwise than confess
their guilt. Hotot, whom they accused of their mis-
fortune, was the only one whom each inculpated. In
spite of this nobility of feeling, worthy of being cited
with the fine traits of “ Active Morality," this generous
trio were sent to the galleys, and the traitor Hotot ac-
companied them. He is now at the Bagne,where,,
most probably, he does but talk about the most curious
particulars of his apprehension.
Emelie Simonet was released after six hours' captivity.
When set free, she was half paralyzed by the bumpers
she had quaffed; she could no longer understand,
speak, or see, nor had she preserved the least recollec-
tion of what had passed. When the first ray of light
broke in upon her, she asked for her lover, and on the
reply of one of her companions that he was at La.
Force, “ Miserable man l" she exclaimed, “ what had
he to do with taking lead from roofs, had he not all
that man could wish for with me 2" Afterwards, the
unfortunate Emelie showed herself inconsolable, and
the exemplary model of a grief that was daily poisoned ;
if in the morning she was only maudlin, by evening
she was dead—drunk. Terrible effects of love and
brandy, of brandy and love !
A theft of small extent has supplied me with an
opportunity of sketching a hideous picture; and yet
the sketch is but very imperfect and far from the
abominable reality, from which the powers that be, who
are bound to promote all that is good and civilized,
will deliver us, when to them it seemeth best. To
permit these sinks of corruption wherein the people
plunge body and soul, and which are never closed, is
an insult to morality, an outrage upon nature, and a.
crime against humanity. Let not these pages be
accused as licentious ; they are not the recitals of Petro~
nius which add fuel to the already inflamed imagination,
and make proselytes to impurity. I describe immo-
rality, not to extend its influences, but to make them


unuoms or vrooco. l2l
abominated. Who that has read this chapter, is not
horrified at the vices it depicts, since they produce the
last degree of brutalization?

CHAPTER XXXIX.
I am fearful of my own renown—The approach of a grand fete—The
classes of robbers—The muletiers at the last gasp—A deluge of de-
nunciations—l am nearly caught—The mattress. the false keys, and
the crow-bar—The revengefnl confession—The terrible Limotlin—
The mania for turning spy—The female thief who denounces herself
—The good son—The unlucky fugitive—The twelfth-night king and
queen—The treacherous kiss—The diflicnlty overcome—The washer-
woman’s basket—The stolen child—The umbrella which nfl'ords no
shelter—The modern Sappho—Liberty is not the first of blessing!—
The inseparables—The heroism of friendship—Vice has its virtues.
WHEN an individual of passable intellect bends all his
faculties to one point, it but seldom occurs that he does
not become expert in his profession. This is the whole
secret of my great aptitude for detecting thieves. The
moment I became a secret agent, I had but one thought,
and all my efforts tended to reduce to inaction as
speedily as possible the wretches, who, desirous of
perverting the resources of labour, seek a subsistence
In a series of outrages on the right of property, more or
less criminal. I did not delude myselfas to the sort of
success of which I was amoitious, and I had not the
folly to think that I could effectually extirpate robbery ;
but by carrying on a war it l'outrance against ofi'enders,
I hoped to render them less numerous, I may say,
that the success of my first attempts surpassed the
expectation of myself and M. Henry. In my own es-
timation, my reputation increased with too much ra-
pidity; for reputation betrayed the mystery of my em-
ploy, and from the moment I was known, it was neces-
sary either that I should renounce the service of the
police, or else belong to it ostensibly, Thenceforward,
my task became much more difficult, but obstacles
VOL. 111. u


122 MBMOIRB or VIDOCQ.
daunted me not, and, as I lacked neither zeal nor devo-
tion, I thought it still possible not to destroy the good
opinion which the authorities had conceit/ed of me. I
had now no chance of feigning with malefactors. The
mask fallen, I was in their eyes a spy, and nothing but
a spy. Yet I was a spy under better circumstances
than the majority of my colleagues; and when I could
not do otherwise than appear openly, yet my secret ser-
vices of former periods profited me much, either by
the connections I had formed, or by the vast number of
facts and descriptions of all sorts that I had arranged
and stored in my memory. I could then, like a certain
king of Portugal, (but with more certainty than he,)
judge of men by their looks, and point out to the po-
lice those dangerous persons who should be removed
from society. The arbitrary power of the police at this
period, and the faculty of administrative detentions,
which formed its strong hold, left me a prodigious lati-
tude for the exercise of my physiognomical knowledge,
founded on positive experience. But,I thought that as
it so greatly regarded the public welfare, I must not act
with levity. Certainly, nothing would have been easier
to me than to have filled the prisons; the thieves, and
by this title all were denominated who had been com-
mitted for trial for any act contrary to honesty, were
not ignorant that their fate was in the hands of the first
as well as the last agent; and that to bring upon them
a sentence of indefinite, imprisonment at Bicétre, only
a statement was necessary whether true or false. Those
particularly,who had been already in the hands of jus-
tice, were more exposed to the consequences of such de-
nouncements, as no one took the trouble of minute in-
quiry : there Were, besides, in the capital, a multitude of
noted characters, of bad repute, whether merited or not,
who were not treated with any greater consideration.
This method of repression had serious consequences,
since the innocent might be condemned as well as the
guilty, the reformed confounded with the incorrigible.
Certainly, when any feast or solemnity attracted alarge


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 123
concourse of strangers to Paris, that the streets might
be somewhat cleared, it was very convenient to have
what was called a raflie ; but the ceremony over, of
course. they set at liberty those prisoners against whom
there was nothing but presumptive evidence,'and thus
associations of_crime were formed during incarceration,
by the very means adopted to prevent it. He who,
having withdrawn from his former course of life, had
returned to an honest mode of existence, was compul-
sorin driven to vicious habits, and relapsed, in spite of
himself, into his former ways. Another with a bad
reputation, just about to adopt a different line of con-
duct, by being cast amongst these vile characters, and
confounded with them, was lost without hope of return.
The system adopted was most deplorable, and I plan-
ned another, which consisted not in apprehending the
suspected, but catching in the very act those who were
justly suspected. For this purpose, I classed the thieves
according to the dparticular; branch of the profession
that each followe , and in each catalogue I took care
so “to arrange my information, that I might learn how
they were severally engaged; so that not one robbery
was committed but I was informed of it, and learnt
the names of the perpetrators. Very frequently my
spies, men or women, for I had them of both sexes, had
shared in the crime; I knew it; but with a persuasion
that they would, in their turn, be pointed out to me by
some other false comrade, who would denounce them,
I consented to their remaining behind the curtain, under
a certain proviso.
Justice lost nothing from this tolerance; denounced
or denouncers all‘ reached the same termination—the
Bagne ; there was impunity for none. I certainly felt a
repugnance at employing such agents, and particularly
at being bound to keep silence concerning them, when
I was convinced of their culpability, but the security of
Paris tprevailed over considerations purely moral.
“ I I speak,“ I said to myself, when I bad business
with a spy of this sort, “ I shall convict a rogue, but if
M 2


124 usuorns or vrnocQ.
I do not now spare him, fifty of his comrades, whom he
is about to betray to me, will escape the punishment of
the laws ;" and this calculation prescribed a line of
conduct to me, which I followed up as long as it was
useful to society. Between the thieves and myself hos-
tilities were not less lasting ; I only allowed the enemy
certain terms, and tacitly granted safeguards, safe-con-
ducts, and truces, which died a natural death on the
least infraction thereof. The false comrade becoming
the victim of another false comrade, I had no power to
interpose between the crime and the repression of it,
and the perfidious delinquent fell, betrayed by a rogue
not less treacherous than himself. I thus made thieves
serve for the destruction of thieves; that was my me-
thod, and it was excellent; the roof is, that in less
than seven years, I placed in the ands of justice more
than four thousand malefactors. Whole classes of
thieves were at bay, and amongst the number was
those called the rouletiers, (who plunder baggage from
travelling carriages ;) I was anxious to reduce them
all to inaction ; I made the attem t, which was nearly
fatal to me. I can never for et . Henry’s remark on
this occasion: “ It is not oing well only, but you
must also give proof that you have done well."
Two of the most daring rouletiers, named Gosnet
and Doré, alar_med at my efforts to put a stop to their
'depredations, came to a resolution to devote their ser-
vices to the police, and in a short time they procured
the arrest of a great many of their comrades, who were
all convicted. They appeared zealous; I owed to their
informations some most important discoveries, and par-
ticularly of several fences; the more dangerous, as in
business they enjoyed a reputation for honesty. After
services of this nature I thought I could trust them; I
asked for their admission as secret agents, with an
allowance of one hundred and fifty francs per month.
They wished nothing more, they said ; their ambition
was limited to the hundred and fifty francs per month.


NEMOIRS or vroocq. . 125
I believed them, and as I saw in them my future col-
leagues, I evinced a confidence almost boundless; we
shall see how they deserved it.
For some months two or three particularly admit
rouletiers had arrived at Paris, where they did not sleep.
Declarations poured in upon the prefecture ; they com-
mitted robberies with incredible audacity, and it was
the more difficult to catch them in the fact, as they only
went out at night, and as, in their expeditions on the
roads round the capital, the were always armed to the
teeth. The capture of suc brigands must confer ho-
nour upon me; to effect it, I was ready to confront
all peril, when one day Gosnet, with whom I had often
conversed on the subject, said to me, “ Jules, if you
wish to catch Mayer, Victor Marquet, and his brother
in the fact, there is but one way; you must come and
sleep at our house, and then we shall be better able
to go out at the proper hours." -
I believed Gosnet was sincere, and agreed to go and
instal myself immediately in the apartment which he
shared with Doré, and we soon began to make our noc-
turnal explorations together on the route which Mayer
and the two Mnrquets generally frequented. We fre-
quently met them, but unwilling to seize them, except
in the commission of some robbery, or at least with the
spoil in their possession, we were compelled to let them
pass. We had already made several of these fruitless
tours, when I began to remark at my companions’ do,-
rnicile something which gave me cause of disquiet.
There was somewhat of constraint in their conduct to-
wards me, and they might (I thought) he plotting
against me. I could not read their thoughts, but at
all risks, I was never with them without being armed
with a brace of pistols, of which they had no know-
ledge.
One night that we were going out, Doré suddenly
complained of an attack of colic, which tormented him
most excruciatingly ; the pains became more and more
severe, he was torn and bent double by them, and it was
M 3


126 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
evident that he could not go out in such a condition.
The party was consequently postponed until next day,
and as there was nothing to be done, I laid down again
and fell asleep. A few moments afterwards I awoke
and jumped up, thinking I heard a noise at the door,
and repeated blows proved that I was not mistaken.
What did they want? Was their business with us?
That was not probable, for no erson knew our retreat.
One of my companions arose, made him a signal to
be still, but he got out of bed ; then, in a low voice, I
recommended him to listen, but not open; he went to
the door, whilst Gosnet, who was in an adjacent cham-
ber, did not stir. The knocking continued, and as a
precautionary measure, I made haste to put on my
drawers and walstcoat. Doré having done the same,
returned to his post, but, whilst he was listening, his
mistress gave me a look so ex ressive, that I had no
difficulty in understanding it; lifted up my mattress
at the feet, and what did I see? a large bunch of ske-
leton keys and a crow-bar. All was now apparent, I
saw at once through the plot, and to frustrate it, I
hastened to place the keys in my hat, and the crow-bar
in my drawers; then 'going to the door I listened in
my turn ; they were talking in a low tone, and I could
not hear a word that passed; however, I conceived that
so early a visit was not without its motive, and taking
Doré into the second room, told him I would endeavour
to ascertain who it was.
“ As you like,” was the reply.
Some person knocking again, I asked who was there ?
“ Is not M. Gosnet here 2" some one inquired in a low
tone of voice.
“ M. Gosnet is below stairs, the door underneath.”
“ Thank’ye, excuse our disturbing you.”
“ Oh, there is no harm done.”
They went down; I opened the door without any
noise, and at two jumps reached the privy, into which I
flung the crow-bar, and was about to throw the keys
also, but some person entered behind, and I recognised


lemons or vrnoco. 127
an inspector named Spiquette, belonging to the stall of
the juge d’instruction, who instantly recognised me.
“ Why do you follow me T"
“ Oh, for nothing; it is M. Vigny, the juge d'instruc-
tion, who desires to see you, and speak to you."
“ If that be all, I Will put on my breeches and follow
on!)
y “ Make haste, let me take your place, and wait for
me."
I awaited the inspector, and we went down together.
The chamber was filled with gendarmes and spies; M.
Vigny was in the midst of them, who instantly read to
me a mandate, issued against me as well as against my
hosts and their wives ; then, to fulfil the instruction of his
commission, he ordered the most exact search. It was
not difficult to see through the whole affair, particularly
when Spiquette, lifting up the mattress, and astonished
at finding nothing, cast a peculiar look at Gosnet, who
appeared stupified with amazement. His disappoint-
ment did not escape me. I saw that he was completely
upset, and being myself quite reassured, I said to the
magistrate,—
' “ Sir, I see, with the hope of making himself of im-
portance, some person has overshot his mark. You
have been deceived; there is nothing here to suspect;
besides, M. Gosnet could not allow it. _Would you, M.
Gosnet? Answer to the judge.”
He could not do otherwise than confirm my assertion,
but only muttered out his words, and it required no
conjuration to penetrate the bottom of his soul.
The search concluded, we were tied, put into two
coaches, and conducted to the Palais, where we were
placed in a small room called the Souricie‘re, (rat-
trap.) Shut up with Gosnet and Doré, I took care
how I expressed my suspicions of them. At noon we
were interrogated, and at evening were transferred, my
two companions to La Force, and I to Sainte-Pelagie. I
know not how it was, but the bunch of keys, which I
kept in my hat, Was not observed by any of the persons


128 mamorns or vrnocq.
at the prison gate. Although I had been searched,
they were not found, and I was not sorry for it. I
wrote instantly to M. Henry to tell him of the plot
laid for me, and having no diflioulty in convincing him
of my innocence, I recovered my liberty two days
afterwards. I repaired to the prefecture With the keys,
so fortunately concealed from all investigation. I
deemed myself lucky in having escaped the peril, for I
was within an ace of destruction. But for Doré's mis-
tress, and my own presence of mind, I should certainly
have fallen once more under the jurisdiction of the ar-
gousins, With tltieves’ tools about me, I should have
been overpowered by a fresh sentence, of which my si-
tuation as a fugitive would have supplied the motives,
and I should have been sent again to the Bagne. M.
Henry reprimanded me for an imprudence which had
nearly been fatal to me.
“ Where,” said he, “ would you have been had Gos-
net and Doré prosecuted their plan a little more skil-
fully? Vidocq," he added, “ mind yourself, do not carry
your devotion to such an extent, above all do not put
yourself into the power of these thieves; you have
many enemies. Undertake nothing of which you have
not maturer considered the probable result, and before
you risk any important step in future, come and con-
sult me.” I profited by this advice, and reaped the
benefit of it.
Gosnet and Doré did not remain long at La Force,
and on their dismissal, I went to see them ; I did not
allow them to see that I suspected their treachery, but
determined to have my revenge for a game which I
had not lost. I let loose a spy upon them, and soon
learnt that they had committed a robbery, of which all
the proofs were easily producible. Apprehended and
convicted, they had four years‘ leisure to think of me.
When their sentence was passed, I took care to visit
them, and when I told them how I had known and
thwarted their plot, they wept with rage. Gosnet, taken
back to the prison of Auray, whence'he had escaped,


unnorns or vmocQ. 129
conceived a means of vengeance, which did not suc-
ceed. Feigning repentance, he sent for a priest, and
under the pretence of a general confession, avowed the
commission of various robberies, in which I was (of
course) implicated. The confessor, to whom my pre-
tended participation had not been communicated under
the seal of secresy, addressed the prefecture by letter,
in which I was violently inculpated ; but Gosnet’s
confession had not the hoped‘for result.
It was the despotism exercised over the thieves which
propagated amongst them the system of denouncing
each other, and to thrust them (if I may be allowed the
expression) to the height of demoralization. Formerly
they composed, in the bosom of society, a society apart,
which included neither traitors nor deserters ; but when
they were proscribed en masse, instead of closing their
ranks, they in their fright gave a cry of. alarm, which
rendered every expedient for personal safety legitimate,
even to the injury of ancient faith. The chain which
united the family of \malefactors once broken, each
made no scruple of denouncing his comrades to ensure
his own safety. At the approach of particular periods,
which were marked as convicting epochs, such as new
year's day, the fite of the emperor, or any other cere-
mony, denunciations poured thick as hail upon the
second division. To escape what the agents termed
the sweeping order, that is to say, the order for appre-
hending all individuals reputed robbers, it was who
should be first to furnish the police with useful informa-
tion. There was no lack of suspected persons, who
hastened to prove themselves liege subjects by turning
spies upon their comrades, whose abodes were not
known ; and thus, ere long, the prisons were completely
filled. We may justly imagine, that in these general bat-
tues, it was impossible to prevent a multitude of abuses :
most iniquitous breaches of justice occurred, and fre-
quently without chance of reparation. Unfortunate
mechanics, who, at the expiration of a simple correc-
tional punishment, returned to their trade, and endea<


130 unuoms or vinocQ.
voured, by their good conduct, to efl‘ace the remembrance
of past wrongs, were enveloped in the meshes, and
confounded with thieves by profession : there was not
the least chance of reclaiming them, for, confined in the
depot, they were led the ncxt day before the terrible
Limodin, who compelled them to undergo an inter-
rogatory. Such an interrogatory, gracious heaven l
“ Your name, your residence? You have been under
sentence before 2'
“ Yes, sir, but I have been at my trade since, and—”
“ Enough—bring up another." .
" But, Monsieur Limodin, I beg
“ Silence! another; I am understood, I hope.”
The man on whom silence was imposed was about to
allege reasons in his favour. Liberated for several
years, he could produce testimonies of his honesty, and
prove, by a thousand testimonies, that he had returned
to laborious habits ; in fact, that he was irreproachable
in every way : but M. Limodin had not leisure to hear
1m.
“ I should never have done,” he said, “ if I am to
have my time taken up by such chattering."
Sometimes in a morning this brutal interrogatory was
carried on with such speed, that a hundred persons,
men or women, were sent off, some to Bicetre, and the
others to Saint-Lazare. It was pitiless: in his eyes
nothing could atone for a momentary error. How many
poor devils, who had forsaken the paths of vice, have
been thrown into them again by him! Many of the
victims of this implacable severity repented that they had
ever betaken themselves to honest modes of life, and
swore, in their rage, to become determined robbers.
“ Of what use," said these unfortunates, “ has been
our return to the paths of rectitude? See how we are
treated: it would be better to have been a rogue al-
ways. Why make laws, if they are not observed?
Why were we condemned for a time, if they will not
allow that we can be reformed? It would have been
better for us to have received sentence for life or death,
,7


memoms or vrnocq. 13l
since, once again, having returned to the right road, we
are not allowed to pursue it."
I have heard a thousand complaints ofthis kind, and
all generally but too well founded. “ I have been four
years out of Sainte-Pelagie,” said one of these prisoners
to me' " Since my liberation, I have always worked
at the same shop, which proves how steady I must
have been, and yet they are not satisfied with me.
Well! they have sent me to Bicétre, although I have
done no wrong, and only because I have undergone
two years’ imprisonment."
This infamous tyranny was doubtless unknown to the
préfet, at least I would fain believe so, and yet it was
done in his name. Open or secret, the agents were
certainly very redoubtable personages, for their reports
were received as true : if they arrested a popular man,
and described him as a dangerous and incorrigible rob-
her, which was the constant formula, all was settled;
the man was convicted to a certainty. It was the
golden age for the spies, since every one of these in-
fringements on individual liberty was a prize to them :
although this prize was not very extensive. They had a
crown for each capture; but what will not a spy do
for a crown piece, if there be no danger in the doing?
Again, if the sum was small, they looked at the num-
ber, and endeavoured to repeat it. On the other hand,
those thieves who desired to purchase liberty by their
services, denounced equally, whether right or wrong,
all those they had known. This was the condition on
which they were allowed to remain at Paris; but the
prisoners recriminating, they were in their turn com-
pelled to bear them com any. '
No idea can be forme of the number of individuals
whom these detentions have driven into lapses from
honesty, which they would have avoided if this abomi-
nable system of persecution had been sooner renounced.
If they had been left unmolested, they would never
have done wrong ; but whatever might have been their
intentions, they were compulsorily placed in situations


132‘ MEMOIRS OF vinocq.
for becoming thieves again. Some freed convicts (this
is an exception) obtained, at the expiration of their
sentence, leave not to be sent to Bicétre on suspicion ;
but even then they had no testimonials given to them,
so that it was impossible for them to procure work.
They had the resource of dying from hunger; but people
do not voluntarily resign themselves to so cruel a
punishment: they could not die, and therefore plun-
dered, and most frequently plundered and denounced
at the same time.
This rage for turning spy made incredible rogress ;
the facts that prove it are so abundant, that have no
difficulty in selecting them. Frequently, in a scar-
city of thefts to denounce to me, the spies revealed,
whilst imputing them to others, crimes which should
have led to their own condemnation. I will give in-
stances.
A female named Bailly, an old thief confined at St,
Lazare, sent for me to give information. I went to.
her, and she told me that if I would undertake to set
her at liberty, she-would point out to me the authors of
five robberies, two of which were forcible burglaries.
I agreed; and the details she gave me were sc exact,
that I believed I had nothing todo but to perform my
promise. But, on reflection on the various circumf
stances which she had narrated, I was somewhat asto-
nished at the accuracy of her information. She had told
me the persons robbed, one of whom was a Sieur F re-
deric, Rue St. Honore, passage Virginie ; I went im-.
mediately to him, and, in the course of conversation,
learned that the .denouncer was the sole perpetrator of
the robbery committed on this man. I followed up my
inquiry and was still more assured of my woman.
I had then only to proceed to the verification of the
whole. The plaintiffs were taken to Saint Lazare;:
when, without being seen by the woman Bailly, whom.
I showed them in the midst of her companions, they
recognised her instantly. A legal confrontation then;
followed; and Bailly, overwhelmed by evidence, made


134 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
after them, I appeared still to take an interest in their
fate. Was I dog or wolf Z This was the doubt which I
left in their minds; and this doubt, so favourable to
calumny whenever I was accused of connivance, which
in reality did not exist, was never manifest to them.
This accounts for why the thieves were in some measure
the contributors to that renown which I have acquired;
they imagined that I was openly their enemy, but in
fact only wished to protect them; and they sometimes
even pitied me for being compelled to follow the busi-
ness did, and yet they themselves aided me in trans.
acting it.
Amongst professed robbers, there were but few who
did not consider it fortunate to be consulted by the
police for information, or employed in some enterprise.
Nearly the whole of them would have been cut into
quarters to evince their zeal, under the persuasion that
they thereby obtained, if not entire immunity, at least
some little allowance. Those who most feared its
powers were always most ready to serve it. I remem-
her, as a case in point, the adventure of a liberated
galley-slave, called Boucher, alias Cadet Poignon. For
more than three weeks I had been on the look out for
him, when by chance I met him at a cabaret in the Rue
Saint Antoine, at the sign of the Bras d'Or (Golden
Arm.) Iwas alone, and he was in a large company,
To attempt to seize him ea: abrupto would have been to
risk a failure, for he could have defended himself, and
ensured assistance. Boucher had been an agent of
police. I had known him as such, and we were on very
good terms together. It occurred to me that I would
accost him in a friendly manner, and give him a speci-
men of my craft. On entering the cabaret, I went di-
rectly up to the table where he was sitting, and offered
him my hand, saying, “ Good day, friend Cadet."
“ Ah, Jules, my boy, will you have any thing? call
for a glass, or take mine.”
“ Yours is good; there is no gall on your lips. (I
drank.) I want to say a word in your ear."


MEMOIRS or vrooce. 135
“ With pleasure, old fellow; I am with you.”
He rose, and, taking him by the arm, I said, “ Do
you remember the little sailor who was in the chain
with you 2”
“ Yes, yes, a little fat, short chap, who was in the
second string, wasn’t he 2”
“ Exactly so, at least so I think. Should you know
him again T’
“ As well as if I saw my own father. I think I see
him now, on Bench No. 13, making straps for the covies‘
darbiea."
“ I have just apprehended a chap, who I think is
he, but am not sure. By chance I went to the guard-
house at Birague, and as I went out saw you enter
here. Parbleu! said I to myself, that is lucky; here’s
Cadet, and he will tell me if I am right or not.”
“ I am quite ready, my boy, if I can oblige you; but
before we gc, we will have a glass or two. My friends,
(to his companions,) do not be impatient; it is only the
affair of a minute, and I will be with you again in-
s‘antly."
We started, and on reaching the guard-house door,
politeness required that I should go first, and I did the
honours. He went to the bottom of the room, looked
sharply about him, but sought in vain for the individual
of whom I had spoken to him.
“ Where," said he, “is this fagot (galley-slave) that
I am to look at?" v
I was then near the door, and saw placed against
the wall the fragments of a looking-glass, such as is
usually found in most guard-houses for the use of the
dandies of the garrison, and calling to Boucher, I
showed him the shattered reflector.
“ Here," I said, “look here.”
He looked, and turning towards me, said,
“ Ah, Jules, you are chafing me. I see only you
and myself in the glass; but the man, the arrested man,
where is he I"
“ You must know that there is no man arrested
N 2


186 mauoms or vrnocQ.
here but yourself. See the order for your appre-
hension."
“ Ah! this is a villainous trick."
“ Don’t you know that the most crafty man is he who
pros ers best in this world l"
“ he most crafty, certainly; but it will do you no
good to trap honest fellows in this way."
When the ath to reach a discovery of importance was
full of diflicu ties, female robbers were perhaps of more
assistance to me than the males. Women generally find
means of insinuating themselves, which, for the service of
the police, is much more useful than the aid of males.
Allying tact with finesse, they are besides endowed
with a erseverance which leads them to the end de_
sired. hey inspire less distrust, and can introduce
themselves every where without awakening suspicion.
They have, moreover, a particular facility of introducing
themselves amongst servants and portresses ; they un-
derstand well how to establish communications, and to
chatter without being indiscreet. Apparently commu-
- nicative, even when they are most reserved, they excel
in exciting confidence. In fine, strength excepted, they
have in the highest degree all the ualities which con-
stitute a fitness for being spies ; and when they are in
earnest, the police can have no better agents.
M. Henry, who was a clever man, often employed
them in the most intricate affairs, and but rarely failed
to have fortunate results. Following his example,
whenever I have had occasion for the services of female
spies, I have generally been satisfied with them. But
as they are generally most corrupt beings, and more
treacherous than the men, that they might not deceive
me, I was compelled to be perpetually on my guard.
The following anecdote will show that we must not
always trust their zeal, of which they make great parade.
I had obtained the liberty of two celebrated female
thieves, on condition of their serving the olice faithfully.
They had already given proofs of their 5 ill in this way;
'but employed without salary, and compelled to plunder


MEMOIRS or vinocq. 137
for an existence, they were taken again in the very act of
robbery. The sentence they underwent was that of
which I abridged the duration.
Sophie Lambert and the girl Domer, alias La Belle
Lise, were thenceforward in direct communication with
me. One morning they came to tell me that they were
certain of procuring the apprehension of one Tominot,
a dangerous fellow, whom we had long been searching
for. They were going, they declared, to breakfast with
him, and he was to rejoin them in the evening at
a vintner’s in the Rue Saint-Antoine. Under other
circumstances I might have been duped by these wo-
men ; but Tominot had been arrested by me the
previous evening, and it was a rather difficult matter
for them to breakfast with him. I was nevertheless
determined to try how far they would push the impos-
ture, and promised to accompany them to their rendez-
vous. I went accordingly, but as may be supposed, no
Tominot appeared up to ten o’clock, when Sophie, pre-
tending impatience, asked the waiter if a gentleman
had not inquired for them.
“ Him you breakfasted with 1'" said he. “ He came at
dusk, and desired me to say that he could not be with
you this evening, but would not fail in the morning.”
I had no doubt that the waiter was an accomplice,
who had received his instructions; but I evinced no
suspicion, and determined on seeing what these ladies
would do next. For an entire week they took me
sometimes to one place, sometirnes to another, where
we were always to find Tominot, but who of course
never appeared. At length, on the 6th of January, they
swore they would lead me to him. I waited for them,
but they appeared without him, and gave me such
good reasons, that I could not be angry; on the con-
trary, I evinced much satisfaction at the measures they
had adopted; and to prove how well contented I was
with them, I offered to give them a twelfth cake. They
accepted the ofl'er, and we went to the Petit Broc, in
the Rue de la Verrerie. We drew for king and queen,
. N 3


138 usnrorns or vroocq
and the royalty fell to Sophie's share, who was a queen
in all her glory. We eat, drank, laughed, and when
the moment of separation approached, it was ‘proposed
to consummate our gaier by afew bumpers o brandy ;
but a Vintner’s brandy, stuff ! It was good enough for
the ladies of the fish-market; but I scorned to use my
queen in that way. At this period I was established as
a distiller in the Tourniquet Saint-Jean, and I offered
to go to my house and fetch them a drop of the right sort,
At this offer the party jumped for joy, and desiring me
to return as quickly as possible, I set out, and two
minutes afterwards I appeared with a half bottle of
Coignac, which was em tied in a twinkling. The flask
being dried, I exclaime , “ Come, I have been a good
boy to you—you must now do me a service."
“ Both, my friend J ules,” oried Sophie; “ let us see
what it is." ‘
“ Why this it is. One of my agents has apprehended
two lady thieves: it is thought they have at home a
great many stolen articles; but to make the search we
must find their abode, and they refuse to give it. They
are now at the guard-house of Saint-Jean; if you go
there you must try and pump them. An hour or two
will suffice for you to draw them, and it will be easy
vvork to two such deep baggages as you.’ '
“ Be easy, my dear Jules," said Sophie to me; “ we
will perform the commission. You know you can trust
to us, and you might send us to the world‘s end ifit
could serve you ; at least I can speak for myself."
“ And for me too," said La Belle Lise.
“ Well, then, you must convey a line to the officer on
guard, that he may know you."
I wrote a note, which I sealed, gave it to them, and
we went out together. At a short distance from the
market of Saint-Jean we separated, and whilst I re-
mained on the watch, the queen and her companion
went to the guard-house. Sophie entered first, and
presented the billet to the serjeant, who, on reading it,
sat ,—


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 139
“ All right, here you both are. Corporal, take four
men with you, and conduct these ladies to the prefec-
ture." This order was given conformably to a note I
had sent to the serjeant on going out to get the brandy;
it was thus written :—
“ Monsieur the officer on guard will send under sure
and good escort, to the prefecture of police, the females
Sophie Lambert and Lise Domer, apprehended by order
of M. le Préfet.”
'Ihese ladies must have made singular reflections,
and doubtless guessed that I was wearied with being
made their plaything. Be that as it may, I went to see
them at the depot next day, and asked them what they
thought of the trick?
“ Not bad,” replied So hie, “ not bad; we had not
stolen thong ." Then a dressing Lise, “ It is your
fault ; why did you pretend to seek for a man who was
already caught?"
“ Did I know it? Ah, ifI had, I promise you
besides, what do you mean? he is caught, and they can
accuse him.”
“ That is all very fine: but tell us, Jules, how long
will they keep us at Saint Lazare '2"
“ Six months at least."
“ Only that '1" they cried out together,
“ Six months is nothing,” added Sophie ; “ it is soon
passed. Well, my sweet lad, we are at the disposal of
the préfet.”
They had a month less than I had told them, and as
soon as they were at liberty, came to bring me fresh
informations; and this time they were true. One re-
markable peculiarity is, that female thieves are usually
more incorrigible than males. Sophie Lambert could
never persuade herself to renounce her habitual crime.
From the age of ten she had entered on the career of
theft; and when only twenty-five years of age had spent
more than athird of her life in prison.
A short time after my entrance into the service of the
police I apprehended her, and she was sentenced to


140 HEMOIRS OP VIDOCQ.
two years’ imprisonment. It was principally in fur-
nished houses that she exercised her culpable industry:
no one was more skilful in deceiving the vigilance of
the porters, nor more fruitful in expedients to escape
their questions. Once introduced, she halted at each
landing to make a survey. If she saw a key in any
door, she turned it without noise; and if the person
who occupied the apartment was slee ing, no matter
how lightly, Sophie had a hand still lig ter, and in no
time watches, jewels, money, all found their way to her
gibeciére, (game-bag,) the name she gave to a secret
pocket under her apron. If the tenant of the room was
awake, Sophie had excuses enough ready, declaring that
she had made a mistake. Then if he awoke during the
operation, without being at all disconcerted, she ran to
the bed, and embracing him, exclaimed, “ Ah, my poor
little Mim, let me kiss you! Ah! Sir, I ask pardon.
What! is not this Number 17? I thought I was at my
lover's.” '
One morning a person, whose apartment she was
ransacking, having suddenly opened his eyes, perceived
her near his drawers. He made an exclamation of
surprise, and Sophie immediately began to play her
scene; but the gentleman was not to be deceived, and
was determined to profit by the pretended mistake;
if Sophie resisted, a sound of money produced by the
struggle, might betray the motive of her visit ;—if she
yielded, the peril might be still greater.—\Vhat was to
be done? for any other than herself the conjuncture
would have been very embarrassing. Sophie was not
cruel, and by the aid of a lie removed all difficulty, and
the individual, satisfied with what passed, allowed her
to retire, He only lost at this game his watch, his
purse, and six spoons.
This woman was a daring creature: twice she ran
headlong into my snares, but, after her liberation, in
vain did I try to entrap her; there was no watching
which she did not bafile, so completely was she on her
guard. But what I could not effect by my utmost


MEMOIRS or vrnoco. 141
efforts, to take her fiagnmte delicto, I owed to a circum-
stance entirely fortuitous.
Having left my home at daybreak, I was crossing the
Place du Chatelet, when I' met Sophie face to face.
She accosted me with much ease. “ Good day, Jules,
whither are you bound so early I I will wager that you
are going to catch some poor rook.”
“ Perhaps so; but certainly you are not the person;
but where are you going ?”
“ I am going to Corbeil to see my sister, who is
about to establish me in a house. I am weary of the
stone jug. 1 am getting reformed ; will you have a
drop of short ?"
“ Willingly; I will stand treat, and we will have it
at Leprétre's.”
“ Well, do as you like, but make haste, lest I lose
the diligence; you will go with me, wo'n’t you? it is
only in the Rue Dauphine.”
“ Impossible, I have business at La Chapelle, and
am already late. All I can do, is to take a small glass
standing.”
We went to Leprétre, and after a word or two, and a
glass, I took my leave.
“ Adieu, Jules, good luck!"
Whilst Sophie trudged away from me, I turned down
the Rue de la Haumerie, and ran to hide myself in the
corner of the Rue planche Mibray; there, I saw her file
011' towards the Pout-au-Change, walking very fast, and
looking behind her at every instant. I felt assured that
she feared being followed, and thereupon determined
to pursue her. I gained the bridge of Notre Dame, and,
crossing it rapidly, reached the quai in time not to
lose sight of her. On reaching the Rue Dauphine, she
actually entered the office of the Corbeil coaches; but,
persuaded that her departure was but a ruse to deceive
me as to the intention of her early appearance, I en-
sconced myself in a corner, whence I could observe
her motions. Whilst thus on the watch, a coach
passed, in which I installed myself, and promised an


I42 memoms or vrnoaq.
extra fee to the coachman if he would follow a female
whom I should point out to him. For the moment we
were stationary; the diligence started, but there was
no Sophie there I would have betted in life ; but some
minutes afterwards she came to the 0 cc door, looked
about on all sides, and then started off towards the Rue
Christine. She entered into several furnished houses,
and by her air I could perceive that no opportunity had
offered, but as she persisted in exploring the same
quarter, I drew the natural inference that she had not
manoeuvred successfully, and as I was persuaded that
she had not yet finished, I took care not to interrupt
her. At length she entered (in the Rue de la Harpe)
a fruiterer’s, and a moment afterwards appeared, carry-
ing a large washerWoman's basket, wnich seemed heavy.
She walked, however, very fast, and soon reached the
Rue Mathurins-Saint-Jacques, and then that of Mag-ens
Sorbonne. Unfortunately for Sophie, there is a passage
which communicates with the Rue de la Harpe and the
Rue des Macons, and there, after having alighted,'I
hastened to hide myself, and when she reached the end
of the alley I came forth, and we met face to face. On
seeing me she changed colour, and attempted to speak,
but was so much agitated that she could not utter a
word. However, she came to herself gradually, and
pretending to be in a great rage, said to me 2—-
“ You see a woman in a passion; my laundress. who
was to have brought my linen to the diligence, failed
in her promise, I have just fetched it from her, and
am going to convey it to a friend; that has prevented
me from going to Corbeil."
“ Just my case ; on going to La Chapelle, I met a
person who told me that my man was in this quarter,
and that brought me here.“
“ So much the better; wait for me, I am going a few
~steps hence with my basket, and we will have a chop
together.”
“ That I have no objection to; I
I»‘ hear 2"

, but what do


Msuouts or vmocq. 148
Sophie and I stood thunderstruclr at hearing piercing
cries issue from the basket; I lifted up the linen that
covered it, and saw—a child of two or three months
old, whose roaring would have split the tympanum of
a dead man.
“ Well!” said I to Sophie, “ the brat is yours, I
suppose. Tell me, is it a girl, or a boy 3”
“ Well, I am caught again. I shall remember this,
and if ever I am asked why, I shall answer, oh nothing,
achildish afl‘air. Another time when I steal linen I
will first look at it."
" And this umbrella, whose is it 2”
“ Oh ! my God,yes—. As you see ; I had, however,
wherewithal to shelter myself; but when chance is
against you it is in vain to attempt it.”
I conducted Sophie to M. de Fresne's, commissary
of police, whose oflice was in the neighbourhood. The
umbrella was kept as aconvicting evidence. As to the
child, whom she had unwittingly carried off, it was in-
stantly returned to its mother. The thief had a sen-
tence of five years' imprisonment. It was, I believe,
the fifth or sixth sentence she had undergone; she is
still in the hands of justice, and I should not be sur-
prised if she remains at. Lazare for life. Sophie thought
the trade she carried on a very natural one, and its re-
pression, when unavoidable, she looked upon as an ac-
cident. Prison had no horrors for her, far from it; she
was, in a manner, in her sphere. Sophie had con-
tracted those inclinations, more than strange, which are
not justified by the example of Sappho of old, and
under lock and key the opportunities of abandoning
herself to these shameful depravities were more fre-
quent; it was not witlmut a motive, as we see, that she
had so little liberty. If she were apprehended, it
caused her but trifling pain, as she consoled herself by
perspective pleasures. This woman was a strange
character, as we may judge. A woman named Gillion,
with whom she lived in culpable intimacy, was taken
whilst committing a theft. Sophie, who aided her, es-


144 rumours or vrnocq.
caper], and had nothing to fear; but unable to endure a
separation from her friend, she had herself denounced,
and was not happy until she heard the sentence read
which was to reunite them for two years. The majority
of these creatures make a sport of prison; I have seen
many, sentenced for a crime which they had committed
alone, accuse a comrade, and she, although innocent,
make a merit of resigning herself to her sentence.

CHA PTER XL.
Our friends our enemies—The jeweller and the clergyman—The honest
man—The hidin place and the calico—The hlessin from heaven and
the finger of G —Fatal intelligence—We are un one—The love of
our neighbour—The cossacks are innocent—100,000 francs, 50.000
francs, l0,000 francs, or recompense in abatement—The false soldier '
—Tl pretended sprain—The cooper's wife at Livr -—Loca1 reputa-
tion—l am a Jew—My pilgrimage with the nun o Dourdans—Tho
phmnix of women—My metamorphosis into a German servant—My
arrest—I am imprisoned—The straw cutter—My entrance to prison
*Strangers have friends everv where—Tho church rat—Tho flesh.
colonred coat-The buttons of my great cost—A drunkard’s mean-
ing—My histor —The battle of Monterean—l have robbed my mm
ter—Projects o escape—Journey to Germany—The black hen—Con-
fidence in the attorney-genernh—My release—Flight with an unfortu-
nate companion—A hundred thousand crowns worth of diamonds—
The minimum. '
A srrorvr time before the first invasion M. Senard, one
of the richest jewellers of the Palais Royal, having gone
to pay a visit to his friend the Curé of Livry, found him
in one of those perplexities which are generally caused
by the approach of our good friends the enemy. He
was anxious to secrete from the rapacity of the cossacks
first the consecrated vessels, and then his Own little
treasures. After much hesitation, although in his situ-
ation he must have been used to interments, monsieur
-le Curé decided on burying the objects which he was
anxious to save, and M, Senard, who, like the other
gossips and misers, imagined that Paris would be given
over to pillage, determined to cover up, in a similar


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. [45
way, the most precious articles in his shop. It was
agreed that the riches of the pastor and those of the
jeweller should be de osited in the same hole. But,
then, who was to dig e said hole? One of the singers
in church was the very pearl of honest fellows, father
Mpiselet, and in him every confidence could be reposed.
He would not touch a penny that did not belong to him.
For thirty years, in his capacity of cooper, he had the
exclusive privilege of bottling off the wine of the pres-
bytery, which was the best that could be procured.
Churchwarden, sexton, butler, ringer, factotum of the
church, and devoted to his vicegerent, for whom he
would have risen at any hour of the night, he had all
the qualities of an excellent servant, without including
his discretion, intelligence, and piety. In so serious a
conjuncture it was plain that they could not fix better
than on Moiselet, and he was the chosen man. The
hole, made with much skill, was soon ready to receive
the treasure which it was intended to preserve, and six
feet of earth were cast on the specie of the Cure’, to
which were united diamondsworth 100,000 crowns, be-
longing to M. Senard, and enclosed in a small box.
The hollow filled up, the ground was so well flattened,
that one would have betted with the devil that it had
not been stirred since the creation. “This good Moise-
let," said M. Senard, rubbing his hands, “ has done it
all admirably. Now, gentlemen cossacks, you must
have fine noses if you find it out !" At the end of a few
days the allied armies made further progress, and clouds
of Kirguiz, Kalmucs, and Tartars, of all hordes and all
colours, appeared in the environs of Paris. ' These un-
pleasant guests are, it is well known, very greedy for
plunder: they made, every where, great ravages; they
passed no habitation without exacting tribute: 'but in
their ardour for pillage they did not confine themselves
to the surface, all belonged to them to the centre of the
globe; and that they might not be frustrated in their
pretensions, these intrepid geologists made a thousand
excavations, which, to the. regret of the naturalists of
vct. Ill. 0


I46 mnuoms or VIDOCQ.
the country, proved to them, that in France the mine!
of gold or silver are not so deep as in Peru. Such a
discovery was well calculated to give them additional
energy; they dug with unparalleled activity, and the
spoil they found in many places of concealment threw
the Crcesuses of many cantons into perfect despair. The
cursed cossacksl But yet the instinct which so surely
led them to the spot where treasure was hidden, did not
guide them to the hiding place of the Cure. It was like
the blessing of heaven, each morning the sun rose and
nothing new; nothing new when it set.
Most decidedly the finger of God must be recognised
in the impenetrability of the mysterious inhumation
performed by Moiselet. M. Seuard was so fully con-
vinced of it, that he actually mingled thanksgivings
with the prayers which he made for the preservation.
and repose of his diamonds. Persuaded that his vows-
would be heard, in growing security he began to sleep
more soundly, when one fine day, which was, of all
days in the week, a Friday, Moiselet, more dead than
alive, ran to the Curés.
‘ “ Ah, sir, I can scarcely speak."
“ What’s the matter, Moiselet T”
“I dare not tell you. Poor M. le Curé, this afl‘ects
me deeply, I am paralyzed. If my veins were opened
not a drop of blood would flow."
“What is the matter? You alarm me."
“ The hole.”
“Mercy! I want to learn no more. Oh, what a
terrible scourge is war! Jeanneton, Jeanneton, come
quickly, my shoes and hat."
“ But, sir, you have not breakfasted."
“ Oh, never mind breakfast."
“ You know, sir, when you go out fasting you have
such spasms ——-.” 4
“ My shoes, I tell you.“ 7
“ And then you complain of your stomach."
“ I shall have no want of a stomach again all my life.-
Never any more—n0, never—ruined."


msuoms or VIDOCQ. 147
“ Ruined—Jesus Maria! Is it possible? Ah! sir,
run then—run—."
Whilst the Curé dressed himself in haste, and, im a-
tient' to buckle the strap, could scarcely put on is
shoes, Moiselet. in a most lamentable tone, told him
what he had seen.
“ Are you sure of it ?“ said the Cure, “ perhaps they
did not take all.“
“ Ah. sir, God grant it, but I had not courage enough
to look.”
They went together towards the old barn, when they
found that the spoliation had been complete. Reflect-
ing on the extent of his loss, the Cure nearly fell to the
ground. Moiselet was in a most pitiable state; the
dear man afflicted himself more than if the loss had
been his own. It was terrific to hear his sighs and
groans. This was the result of a love to one's neigh-
bour. M. Senard little thought how great was the
desolation at Livry. What was his despair on receiv-
ing the news of the event! In Paris the police is the
providence of people who have lost any thing. The first
idea, and the most natural one, that occurred to M.
Senard was, that the robbery had been committed by
the cossacks, and, in such a case, the police could not
avail him materially ; .but M. Senard took care not to
sus eat the cossacks.
ne Monday that I was in the office of M. Henry,
I saw one of those. little abrupt, brisk nien enter,
who, at the first glance, we are convinced are interested
and distrustful; it was M. Senard, who briefly related
his mishap, and concluded by saying, that he had
strong suspicions of Moiselet. M. Henry thought also
that he was the author of the robbery, and I agreed
with both. “ It is very well," he said, “ but still our
opinion is only founded on conjecture, and if Moiselet
keeps his own counsel we shall have no chance of con-
victing him. It will be impossible.”
“Impossible?” cried M. Senard, “ what will become
of me? No, no, I shall not vainly implore your suca
0 2


148 unmoms or vrnocq.
cour. Do not you know all? can you not do all when
you choose? My diamonds! my poor diamonds! I
will give one hundred thousand francs to get them back
a ain.”
g“ You may safely offer double, for if the robber has
taken due precautions, we can do nothing in the
business.”
“ Ahl sir, you drive me to despair," replied the
jeweller, weeping warm tears, and throwing himself on
his knees before the chief of the division. " A hundred
thousand crowns' worth of diamondsl if I must lose
them, I shall die with grief. I beseech you to have pity
upon me."
“ Have pity,--that is easy for you to ask : but if your
man is not excessively crafty, by setting some skilful
agent to watch and circumvent him, we may perhaps
obtain the secret from him."
“ How shall I evince my gratitude to you? I care
not for money: fifty thousand francs shall be the re-
ward of him who succeeds."
“ Well, Vidocq, what think you of it?"
“ The affair is difficult,” I answered to M. Henry,
“ but I will undertake it, and shall not be surprised if
I come out of it with honour."
“ Ah l" said M. Senard, squeezing my hand afl'ec-
tionately, “ you restore me to life; spare nothing, I
beseech you, Monsieur Vidocq; go to any expense re-
quisite to arrive at a fortunate result. My purse is open
to you, whatever he the sacrifice. Well, do you think
you will succeed i”
“ Yes, Sir, I do.“
“Well, recover my casket, and there are ten thousand
francs for you, yes, ten thousand francs. I have said
it, and will not recede from my word.“
In spite of the successive abatements of M. Senard,
in proportion as he believed the discovery probable, I
promised to exert every effort in my power to effect the
desired result. But before any thing could be under-
taken, it was necessary that a formal complaint should ‘


unmoms or vwocQ. 149
be made ; and M. Senard and the curé, thereupon, went
to Pontoise, and the declaration being consequently
made, and the robbery stated, Moiselet was taken up
and interrogated. They tried every means to make
him confess his guilt ; but he persisted in avowing him-
self innocent, and, for lack of proof to the contrary, the
charge was about to be dropped altogether, when, to
preserve- it for a time, I set an agent of mine to work.
He, clothed in a military uniform, with his left arm in
a sling, went with a billet to the house where Moiselet's
wife lived. He was supposed to have just left the
hospital, and was only to stay at Livry for forty-eight
hours; but a few moments after his arrival, he had a
fall, and a pretended sprain suddenly occurred, which
put it out of his power to continue his route. It was
then indispensable for him to delay, and the mayor de-
cided that he should remain with the cooper's wife until
further orders.
Madame Moiselet was one of those good, jolly, fat
personages, who have no objection to living under the
same roof with a wounded conscript, and bore all the
joking about the accident which delayed the young
soldier at her house; besides, he could console her in
her husband‘s absence, and, as she was not thirty-six
years of age, she was still at that time of life when a
woman does not despise consolation. This was not all
—evil tongues reproached Madame Moiselet with not
liking wine—after it had been drank; that was her local
reputation ! The pretended soldier did not fail to
caress all the weak points by which she was accessible :
at first he made himself useful, and then, to complete
the conciliation of the good graces of his hostess, from
time to time he loosened the strings of his tolerably
well-filled purse to pay for his bottle of wine.
The cooper’s wife was charmed with so many little
attentions. The soldier could write, and became her
secretary; but the letters which she addressed to her
dear husband were of a nature not to compromise her-
not the “least. expression that can have a twofold con-
0 3


150 MEMOIRS or VlDOCQ.
struction—it was innocence corres onding with inno-
cence. The secretary pities Ma ame Moiselet and
commiserates the risoner, and, to provoke disclosures,
he makes a parade of that extensive morality, which
allows of every means of enriching oneself; but Madame
was too deep to be duped by such language, and con-
stantly on her guard. At length, after a few days’ ex-
perience, l was convinced that my agent, in spite of his
talent, would draw no profit from his mission. I then
resolved to manceuvre in person, and, disguised as a.
travelling hawker, I began to visit the environs of
Livry. I was one of those Jews who deal in every
thing—clothes, jewels, Sac. Sac. ; and I took in ex-
change gold, silver, jewels, in fact, all that was offered
me. An old female robber, who knew the neighbour-
hood perfectly, accompanied me in my tour: she was
the widow of a celebrated thief, Germain Boudier, called
Father Latuil, who, after having undergone half-a.-
dozen sentences, died at last at Saint Pelagie. She
had been confined for sixteen years in the prison of
Dourdans, where the semblance of modesty and devo-
tion which she assumed had caused her to be called the
Nun. No one wasabetter spy over women,or could easier
tempt them by the lures of ornaments and gewgaws.
She had what is called the gift of the gab in the highest
degree. I flattered myself that Madame Moiselet, se-
duced by her eloquence, and by our merchandise, would
bring out the store of the curé’s crowns, some brilliant
of the purest Water, nay, even the chalice or paten, in
case the bargain should be to her liking. My calcu-
lation was not verified; the cooper’s wife was in no
haste to make a bargain, and her coquetry did not get
the better of her. Madame Moiselet was'the phmnix
of women. I admired her, and, as there was no tern ~
tation which she did not resist, convinced that I shou d
lose my time by attempting to play any stratagem ofl‘
vupon her, I resolved to try my chance with her husband.
The Jew hawker was soon metamorphosed into a.
German servant; and under this disguise I began to


rumours or VIDOCQ. 151
ramble about the vicinit of Pontoise, with a design of
being apprehended. Iy sought out the. gendarmes,
whilst I pretended to avoid them; but they, thinking I
wished to get away from them, demanded a sight of my
papers. Of course I had none, and they d‘esired me to
accompany them to a magistrate, who, knowing nothing
of the jargon in which I replied to his questions, de-
sired to know what money I had; and a search was
forthwith commenced in his presence. My pockets
contained some money and valuables, the possession of
which seemed to astonish him. The magistrate, as
curious as a commissary, wished to know how they
came into my hands; and I sent him to the devil with
two or three Teutonic oaths, of the most polished kind ;
and he, to teach me better manners another time, sent
me to prison.
Once more the iron bolts were drawn upon me. At
the moment of my arrival, the prisoners were playing
in the prison-yard, and thejailor introduced me amongst
them in these terms, “ I bring you a murderer of the
parts of speech; understand him if you can.”
They immediately flocked about me, and I was ac-
costed with salutations of Landsmmi and Mct'nheer
without end. During this reception, I looked out for
the cooper of Livry. I thought he must be a sort of
clownish looking tradesman, who,joining in the concert
of salutes which were addressed to me, had called me
Landsmrm in that soft silky tone, which is always ac-
quired by those church rats who are wont to live on the
meats of the altar. He was not over fat ; but that was .
constitutional with him, and, his leanness apart, he was
glowing with health : he had a narrow forehead, small
brown eyes sunk in his head, an enormous mouth, and
although, in detailing his characteristics, some of a very
sinister kind might be seen, the whole had that gentle
air which would tempt the Devil to open the gates of
Paradise; besides, to complete the portrait, this per-
sonage was at least four or five generations behindhand
in costume, a circumstance which, in a country where


152 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
the Gerontes can make reputation for honesty, always
establishes a presumption in favour of the individual,
I know not why I had pictured to myself that Moiselet
should have the refinement of roguery, which, to give
itself the ap earance of honesty, and to conciliate the
confidence 0 old men, dresses itself like them. In the
absence of other more characteristic signs, a pair“ of
spectacles on a prominent nose, large buttons on a coat
of light hue and square cut, short breeches, a three-
cornered hat of the old school, and clocked stockings,
would have instantly attracted my attention. The air
and face were correspondent, and I had every reason
to believe that I had guessed correctly. I wished to
assure myself.
“ Mossié, Mossié,” I said, addressing the prisoner,
who seemed to think I said Moiselet, “ now, Mossié
Fine Hapit, (not knowing his name, I so designated him,
because his coat was the colour of flesh,) sacrement,
ter teufie, no tongue to me; yer F rancois, I miseraple,
1 trink vine; faut trink for gelt, plack vine.”
I pointed to his hat, which was black; he did not
understand me ; but on making agesture that I wanted
-to drink, he found me perfectly intelligible. All the
buttons of my great coat were twenty-franc pieces; I
gave him one: he asked if they had brought the wine,
and soon afterwards I heard a turnkey say,
“Father Moiselet, I have taken up two bottles for
you.” The flesh-coloured coat was then Moiselet. I
followed him into his room, and we began to drink with
all our might. Two other bottles arrived; we only
went on in couples. Moiselet, in his capacity of
chorister, cooper, sexton, 8w. &c. was no less a sot than
gossip; he got tipsy with great good-will, and inces-
santly spoke to me in the jargon I had assumed.
“ I like the German much,” said he' ; “ you can remain
here, my jolly Kinserlique." And the jailor coming in
to drink with us 'he desired him to make me abed
beside his.
“ Are you content, Kinserlique'!”


aremoms or vwocq. 158
“ As content as you.”
“ Do you trink much 7"
“ I trink altimes."
“ Altimes! a good comrade ;” and more wine was
ordered in.
Matters progressed well; after’two or three hours
such as these, I pretended to get stupid. Moiselet,
to set me to rights, gave me a cup of coffee withou'
sugar; after coffee came glasses of water, No one can
conceive the care which my new friend took of me ; but
when drunkenness is of such a nature it is like death—-
all care is useless. Drunkenness overpowered me. I
went to bed and slept, at least Moiselet thought so;
but I saw him many times fill my glass and his own,
and gulp them both down. The next day, when I
awoke, he paid me the balance, three francs and fifty
centimes, which, according to him, remained from the
twenty-franc piece. I was an excellent companion;
Moiselet found me so, and never quitted me. I finished
the twenty-franc piece with him, and then produced
one of forty francs, which vanished as quickly. When
he saw it drunk out also, he feared it was the last.
“ Your button again," said he to me, in atone of
extreme anxiety, and yet very comical.
I showed him another coin. “ Ah, your large button
again,” he shouted out, jumping for joy.
This button went the same way as all the other but-
tons, until at length, by dint of drinking together,
Moiselet understood and spoke my language almost as
well as I did myself, and we could then disclose our
troubles to each other. Moiselet was very curious to
know my history, and that which 1 trumped up was
exactly adapted to inspire the confidence I wished to
create.
“ My master and I come to France—I was tomestic
—ma.ster of mein Austrian marechal—Austrian with de
gelt in family. Master always roving, always gay,
goint regiment at Montreau. Montreau, oh, mein Gott,
great, great pattle—many sleep no more but in death.


154 unmoms or vroocq.
Napoleon coom—poum, poum go gannon. Prusse,
Austrian, Rousse all disturb. I, too, much disturb.
Go on my ways with master mein, with my havresac
on mein horse—poor teufel was I-but there was gelt
- in it. Master mein say, ‘ Galop, Fritz.’ I called Fritz
in home mein. Fritz galop to Pondi—there halt Fritz
—place havresac not visible ; and if I get again to Yar-
many with havresac, me rich becomen, mistress mein
rich, father mein rich, you too rich."
Although the narrative was not the cleverest in the
world, father Moiselet swallowed it all as gospel; he
saw well that, during the battle of Montereau, I had fled
with my master’s portmanteau, and hidden it in the
forest of Bondy. The confidence did not astonish him,
and had the effect of acquiring for me an increase of his
affection. This augmentation of friendship, after a
confession which exposed me as a thief, proved to me
that he had an accommodating conscience. I thence-
forward remained convinced that he knew better than
any other erson what had become of the diamonds of
M. Senar , and that it only depended on him to give
me full and accurate information.
One evening, after a good dinner, I was boasting to
him of the delicacies of the Rhine: he heaved a deep
sigh, and then asked me if there were good wine in that
country.
“ Yes, yes,” I answered, “ goot vine and charmong
1r ."
g “ Charming girls too l"
“Ya, a!”
“ Landsman, shall I go with you 2”
Ya, ya, me grat content.”
“ Ah, you content, well! I quit France, yield the
old woman, (he showed me by his fingers that Madame
Moiselet was three-and-thirty,) and in your land I take
little girl no more as fifteen years."
“ Ya, bien,a girl no infant: a! you is a brave lad.”
Moiselet returned more than once to his project of
emigration : he thought seriously of it, but to emigrate


MEMOIRS or vrnocQ. liifi
liberty was requisite, and they were not inclined to let
us go out. I suggested to him that he should escape
with me on the first opportunity—and when he had
promised me that we would not separate, not even to
take a last adieu of his wife, I was certain that I should
soon have him in my toils. This certainty was the re~
sult of very simple reasoning. Moiselet, said I to my-
self, will t'ollow me to Germany : people do not travel
or live on air: he relies on living well there: he is old,
and, like king Solomon, proposes to tickle his fancy
with some little Abishag of Sunem. Uh, father Moise-
let has found the black hen; here he has no money.
therefore his black hen is not here ; but where is she?
We shall soon learn, for we are to be henceforward
inseparable.
As soon as my man had made all his reflections, and
that, with his head full of his castles in Germany, he had
so soon resolved to expatriate himself, I addressed to
the king’s attorney-general a letter, in which, making
myself known as the superior agent of the Police de
Sfireté, I begged him to give an order that I should be
ifnt away with Moiselet, he to go to Livry, and I to
HHS.
We did not wait long for the order, and the jailor
announced it to us, on the eve of its being put into ex-
ecution; and I had the night before me to fortify
Moiselet in his resolutions. He persisted in them more
strongly than ever, and acceded with rapture to the
proposition I made him of our effecting an escape from
our escort as soon as it was feasible.
So anxious was he to commence his journey, that
he could not sleep. At daybreak, I gave him to
understand that- I took him for a thief as well as
myself. -
“ Ah, ah, grip also,“ said I to him, “ deep, deep
Frans‘ois, you not spoken, but tief all as vou.”
He made me no answer; but when, with my fingers
squeezed together a la Normande, he saw me make a
gesture of grasping something, he could not prevent


1‘56 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
himself from smiling, with that bashful expression of
Yes, which he had not courage to utter. The hypocrite
had some shame about him, the shame ofa devotee. I
am understood.
At length the wished-for moment of departure came,
which was to enable us to accomplish our designs.
Moiselet was ready three whole hours beforehand, and
to give him courage, I had not neglected to push about
the wine and brandy, and he did not leave the prison
until after having received all his sacraments.
We were tied with a very thin cord, and on our way
he made me a signal that there would be no difficulty
in breaking it. He did not think that he should then
break the charm which had till then preserved him.
The further we went, the more he testified that he placed
his hopes of Safety in me: at each minute he reiterated a
prayer that I would not abandon him; and I as often re-
plied, “ Ya, Francois, ya, I not leave you." At length the
decisive moment came, the cord was broken. I leaped
a ditch, which separated us from a thicket. Moiselet,
who seemed young again, jumped after me: one of the
gendarmes alighted to follow us, but to run and jump
in jack-boots and with a heavy sword was difficult;
and whilst he made a circuit 'to join us, we disappeared
in a hollow, and were soon lost to view.
A path into which we struck led us to the wood of
Vaujours. There Moiselet stopped, and having looked
carefully about him, went towards some bushes. I saw
him then stoop, plunge his arm into athick tuft, whence
he took out a spade : arising quickly, he went on some
paces without saying a word ; and when we reached a
birch tree, several of the boughs of which I observed
were broken, he took ofl" his hat and coat, and began to
dig. He went to work with so much good-will, that his
labour rapidly advanced. Suddenly he stooped down,
and then escaped from him that ha! which betokens
satisfaction, and which informed me, without the use'
of aconjuror's rod, that he had found his treasure. I
thought the cooper would have fainted ; but recovering


mmoms on vroocq. 157
himself, he made two or three more strokes with his
spade, and the box was exposed to view. I seized on
the instrument of his toil, and suddenly changing my
language, declared, in very good French, that he was
my prisoner.
“ No resistance,“ I said, " or I will cleave your skull
in two.”
At this threat he seemed in a dream; but when he
knew that he was gripped by that iron hand which has
subdued the most vigorous malefactors, he was con-
vinced that it was no vision. Moiselet was as quiet as
a lamb. I had sworn not to leave him, and kept my
word. During the journey to the station of the brigade
0i gendarmerie, where I deposited him, he frequently
cried out, ‘
“ I am done—who could have thought it? and he
had such a simple look too !"
At the assizes of Versailles, Moiselet was sentenced
to six months' solitary confinement.
M. Senard was overpowered with joy at having re-
covered his hundred thousand crowns worth of dia-
monds. Faithful to his system of abatement, he reduced
the reward one half; and still 'there was difficulty in
getting five thousand francs from him, out of which I
had been compelled to eirpend more than two thousand :
In fact, at one moment I really thought I should have
been compelled to bear the expenses myself.


158 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
CHAPTER XLI.
The stolen looking-glasses—A fine young man—My four trades—The
connoisseur—The Turk who had sold his odnlisquas—No accom-
lices—General Boucher—The inconvenience of good wines—The
ittle Saint Jean—The soundest slbeper in France—The grand uni-
form, and the bank notes—The credulily of a fence—Twenty-five
thousand francs burnt—The meddler—Capture of twenty-two thieves
—-Tlie adorable cavalier—The father of all the world—What it:
is to be knowing—The Lovelace—The almoner of the regiment—
Su rise at the Cafe Hardi—The Anscreon of the galleys—Another
litt e song—I go to the Tuileries~A great lord—The director of the
police of the Chateau—Explanations on the subject of the assassi-
nation of the Due de Berri—The giant of robbers—Appear and
disappear—A scene by Madame de Genlis—I am accoucheur—Sy-
non ymes—The mother and child are well—A matter of form—Bap-
tism—No su nr plums—My gossi at St. Lazare—A suicide—
The thieves“ a ley—The dangerous actor—Fear benefits—l see old
friends—A dinner at Capucin—T he trap. the Bohémiens—An exploit
at a duchess's—I recover the property—Two mountains never meet
The moral hump-bucked lad —'I‘he fair of Versailles—The disturbed
rest of n milliner—The bug hires and hug hunts—Love and tyranny
-—Tho window and the green curtain—Scenes of jealousy—I vanish.
A soon-r time after the difficult affair which proved so
fatal to the cooper, I was employed to detect the
authors of a nocturnal robbery, committed by climbing
and forcible entry in the apartments of the Prince de
Condé, in the Palais Bourbon. Glasses of a vast size
had disappeared, and their abstraction was effected with
so much precaution, that the sleep of two Cerberi, who
supplied the place of a watchman, had not been for a
moment disturbed. The frames in which these glasses
had been were not at all injured; and I was at first
tempted to believe that they had been taken out by
looking-glass makers or cabinet makers; but in Paris
these workmen are so numerous, that I could not pitch
on any one of them whom I knew with any certainty of
suspicion. Yet I was resolved to detect the guilty, and.
to effect this I commenced my inquiries.
The keeper of a sculpture-gallery, near the quincaux
of the invalids, gave me the first information by which


160 uzuonts or vtnocq.
gestures, and language, which, united to his appearance,
convinced me in an instant with whom my business
lay. I instantly assumed the tone of an initiate in the
mysteries of the ultra-philanthropists, and after some
signs which he perfectly understood, I told him how
very sorry I was that he did not want me.
“ Ah sir," I said to him, “ I would rather remain
with you, even if you only gave me half what I should
get elsewhere ; if you only knew how miserable I am ;
I have been six months out of place, and I do not get a
dinner every day. Would you believe that thirty-six
hours have elapsed, and I have not taken anything 1'"
“ You pain me, my good fellow; what, are you still
fasting? Come, come, you shall dine here."
I had really an appetite capable of giving the lie I
had just uttered all t e semblance of truth ; a two-pound
loaf, half a fowl, cheese, and a bottle of wine, which
he produced, did not make long sojourn on the table.
Once filled, I began again to talk of my unfortunate
condition.
“ See sir," said I, “ if it be possible to be in amore
pitiable situation, I know four trades, and out of the
whole four cannot get employ in one, tailor, hatter,
cook; I know a little of all, and yet cannot get on.
My first start was as a looking-glass setter."
“ A looking-glass setter l” said he abruptly ; and
without giving him time to reflect on the imprudence of
such an exclamation, I went on.
“ Yes, a looking-glass setter, and I know that trade
the best of the four; but business is so dead, that there
is really nothing now stirring in it."
“ Here my friend," said the young man, presenting
to me a small glass,“ this is brandy, it will do you
good ; you know not how much you interest me, I can
give you work for several days."
“ Ah ! sir, you are too good, you restore me to life:
how, if you please, do you intend to employ me '1”
“ As a looking-glass framer.”
“ If you have glasses to fit, pier, Psyche, light of day,


MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ. 16]
fl't
joy of Narcissus, or any others, you have only to in
trust me with them, and I will give you a cast of my
craft.”
“ I have glasses of great beauty, they were at my
country-house, whence I sent for them, lest the gentle-
men Cossacks should take a fancy to break them,”
“ You did quite right; but may I see them 1"
“ Yes, my friend. "
He took me into a room, and at the first glance I
recognised the glasses of the Palais Bourbon. I was
ecstatic in their praise, their size, &0. ; and after having
examined them with the minute attention of a man
who understands what he is about, I praised the skill-
of the workman who unframed them, without injury to
the silvering.
“ The workman, my friend,” said he, “ the work-
man was myself; I would not allow any other person
to touch them, not even to load them in the carriage.”
“ Ah! sir, I am sorry to give you the lie, but what
you tell me is impossible ; a man must have been a
workman to undertake such work, and even the best he
of the craft might not have succeeded.” -
In spite of my observation, he persisted in assertin
that he had no help, and as it would not have answered
my purpose to have contradicted him, I dropped the
subject.
A lie was an accusation at which he might have been
angry, but he did not' speak with less amenity, and
after having given me his instructions, desired me to
come early next day, and begin my work as early as
possible.
“ Do not forget to bring your diamond, as I wish
you to remove those arches, which are no longer fashion-
able."
He had no more to say to me, and I had no more to
learn. I left him, and went to join my two agents, to
whom I gave the description of his person, and desired
them to follow him if he should go out. A warrant
was necessary to effect his apprehension, which I pm-
P 3


162 MEMOIRS or vrnocq-
cured, and soon afterwards, having changed my dress,
I returned with the commissary of police and my
agents to the house of the amateur of glasses, who did
not expect me so soon. He did not know me at first,
and it was only at the termination of our search, that,
examining me more closely, he said to me :—
“ I think I recognise on, are you nota cook "I"
“ Yes, sir,“ I replie ; “ I am cook, tailor, hatter,
looking-glass setter, and, moreover, a spy, at your ser-
vice."
My coolness so much disconcerted him, that he could
not utter another word.
This gentleman was named Alexandre Paruitte.
Besides the two glasses, and two chimeras in gilt bronze,
which he had stolen from the Palais Bourbon, many
other articles were found in his apartments, the pro-
duce of various robberies. The inspectors who had
accompanied me in this expedition undertook to con-
duct Paruitte to the depot, but, on the way, were care-
less enough to allow him to escape, nor was it until ten
days afterwards that I contrived to get sight of him,
at the gate of the ambassador of his highness the Sul-
tan Mahmoud, and I apprehended him at the moment
he got into the carriage of a Turk, who apparently had
sold his odalisques.
I am still at a loss to explain how, in spite of ob-
stacles, which the most expert robbers judged insur-
mountable, Paruitte effected the robbery which twice
compelled me to see him. He was steadfastin his as-
sertion of having no companions, for on his trial, when
sentenced to irons and imprisonment, no indication,
not even the slightest, could be elicited, encouraging
the idea that he had any participators.
About the time when Paruitte carried off the glasses
from the Palais Bourbon, some thieves effected an en-
trance in the Rue de Richelieu, No. 17, in the hotel
de Valois, when the‘ carried off considerable property,
belonging to Marec ial Boucher, valued at thirty thou-
sand francs. All was fish that came to net, from the


MEMOIRS OF vmocq. 163
plain cotton-handkerchief to the glittering uniform of
the general. These gentlemen, accustomed to clear off
all before them, had even carried off the linen intended
for the laundress. This system, which has its rise in a
desire not to leave a fraction of any thing to the person
robbed, is very dangerous for the thieves, for it compels
them to make minute researches, and occasions delays
which sometimes terminate most unpropitiously. But
on this occasion they had worked with perfect security;
the presence of the general in his apartment had been
a guarantee that they would not be troubled in their
enterprise, and they had emptied the wardrobes and
trunks with the same security as a broker who is making
an inventory after a death. How, I shall be asked,
could the general be present? Alas! he was—but
when one plays an active part at a good dinner, can
the result be doubted! Without hatred, without fear,
without suspicion, we pass gaily from Beaune to Cham-
bertin, from Chambertin to Clos-Vougeot, from Clos-
Vougeot to Romanée ; then after having thus overrun
all the, wines of Burgundy and discussing their various
merits, we come to Champagne and the flatulent Ai,
and but too happy is that guest, who, full of the joys
of the delicious pilgrimage, does not get so far mud-
dled as to be unable to find his way home. The ge-
neral, after a banquet of this kind, had still preserved
his reasoning powers entire, at least I think so, but he
had returned excessively sleepy; and as in that state
one is more anxious to tumble into bed, than to close a
window, he had left his open for the convenience of
comers and goers. What imprudence! I know not
if he had agreeable dreams, but I remember, that in
his statement of the transaction, he deposed that he had
awakened from his sleep like a little St. John.
Who were the persons that had committed the de-
predation? It was not easy to discover them, and at
the moment all that could be done or said with cer-
tainty was, that they had what is called the toupet, since
they had disgracefully profaned the brevets of the go-


164 menoms or vrooco.
neral, in a way that must be guessed at, but cannot be
mentioned, but which proved that they took him for the
most profound sleeper in France.
I was very desirous of detecting the insolents who
had perpetrated a robbery attended with circumstances
so aggravating. In the absence of all indications by
which I might endeavour to trace a path for myself, I
allowed myself to be led by that inspiration which has
so seldom deceived me. The idea suddenly struck me,
that the thieves who had introduced themselves at the
general’s, might belong to the gang of one Perrin, a
blacksmith, who had long been pointed out to me as a
most audacious fence. I began by surveying the ap-
roaches to Perrin's domicile, which was in the Rue de
a Sonnerie, No. 1; but after several days’ watching,
nothing occurred to guide me, and I felt convinced
that to arrive at any satisfactory result, I must have re~
course to stratagem.
I could not go direct to Perrin as he knew me, but I
instructed one of my agents, who would not be suspected.
He went to see him, and they conversed on various
topics ; at length, touching on robberies,—
“ 1’ faith," said Perrin, “ no bold hits are now made.”
“ What do you mean ?" replied the agent. “ I think
those who were at the general‘s, in the hotel de Valois,
have no cause for complaint; when I learn that in his
full-dress uniform there was concealed a sum of twenty-
five thousand francs in bank notes."
Perrin had so much cupidity and avarice, that if he
had been ossessor of the dress, this lie, which revealed
to him ric es of which he had not dreamt, would ne-
cessarily make an impression of joy, which he would be
unable to dissemble; if the uniform had passed into
other hands, and he had already disposed of it, a contrary
feeling would betray itself. I had foreseen the alterna-
tive. Perrin‘s eyes did not sparkle, no smile was seen
upon his lips ; in vain did he seek to disguise his trouble,
the feeling of his loss so sorely smote him, that he began
to dash the floor with his foot, and tear his' hair most


MBMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 165
furiously : “ Ah mon Dieu, mon Dieu l" he cried,
“ these events always befall me, must I be for ever
wretched ?"
“ Well, what do you mean? Did you buy it 2"
“ Yes, yes, I bought it, as you ask me, but I sold it
again.
“ Do you know to whom ?" I
“ Certainly I do: to a man in the Rue Feydeau, that
he might burn the lace."
“ Oh, do not despair, there is a remedy still left, if
the melter be an honest man."
Perrin gave ajump. “ Twenty-five thousand francs
humt ! Twenty-five thousand francs 1 That is not
picked up every day; why was I in such haste about
it I"
“ Well, if I were you, I should try to get back the
embroidery before it is put in the melting-pot. If you
like, I will go to the melter, and tell him that having
had a good offer for it from one of the theatres, you are
desirous of buying it back again. I will offer him a
premium, and probably he will not make any difficulty
about it."
Perrin thought the plan admirable, accepted the pro-
position with eagerness, and the agent, desirous of ren-
dering him a service, ran to give me an account of what
had passed. Then, taking search warrants, I made a
descent upon the melter. The embroidery was un-
touched ; I gave them to the agent to convey to Perrin,
and at the instant when he, impatient to seize on the
notes, gave the first cut with his scissors to release the
presumed treasure, I appeared with the commissary.
We found at Perrin’s evidences of the illicit trade which
he carried on ; an abundance of stolen property was
found in his stores. Conducted to the depot, he was
examined; but, at first, only gave very vague replies,
whence no intelligence could be collected.
After his imprisonment in La Force, I went to see
him, and ask him for information, but could only get
from him some few indications; he knew. not, he asserted,


166 mamoms or vinocq.
the names of the persons who constantly dealt with
him. However, the little he told me aided me in
forming suspicions that were plausible, and in convert-
ing my suspicions to realities. I had a considerable
number of suspicious characters marched out before
him, and, on his detection of them, they were put on
their trials. Twenty-two were sentenced to irons, and
amongst them was one of the authors of the robbery on
general Boucher. Perrin was tried and convicted of
receiving the stolen booty, but in consequence of the
utility of the information he had given, only the mini-
mum of punishment was ronounced agaist him.
A short time afterwar s, two other fences, the bro-
thers Perrot, in the hopes of clemency from the judge,
followed the example of Perrin, not only in making
confessions, but deciding several other prisoners on
pointing out their accomplices. From their statements
brought into the power of justice two famous robbers,
named Valentin and Rigaudi, alias Grindesi.
Never, perhaps, were there so many of those gentry,
who unite the professions of thief and' chevalier d‘in-
dustrie, as in the year of the first restoration. One of
the most skilful and most enterprising was Winter de
Sarre-Louis.
Winter was only twenty-six, and was one of those
handsome brown fellows, whose arched eye-brows, long
lashes, prominent nose, and rakish air, have such
charms for a certain class of females. Winter had,
moreover, that good carriage, and peculiar look, which
belongs to an officer of light cavalry, and he, therefore,
assumed a military costume, which best displayed the
graces of his person. One day he was an hussar, the
next a lancer, and then again in some fancy uniform,
At will he was chief of a squadron, commandant, aide-
de-camp, colonel, Sac; and to command more consider-
ation, he did not fail to give himself a reSpectable pa-
rentage; he was by turns the son of the valiant Lasalle,
of the gallant Winter, colonel of the grenadiers of the
imperial horse-guard; nephew of the general Comte


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 167
de Lagrange, and cousin-german to Rapp; in fact, there
was no name which he did not borrow, no illustrious
family to which he did not belong. Born of parents
in a decent situation of life, Winter had received an
education sufl‘iciently brilliant to enable him to as‘
pire to all these metamorphoses; the elegance of his
manner, and a most gentlemanly appearance, completed
the illusion.
Few men had made a better début than Winter.
Thrown early into the career of arms, he obtained very
rapid promotion; but when an officer he soon lost the
esteem of his superiors ; who, to punish his misconduct,
sent him to the Isle of Re, to one of the colonial bat-
talions. There he so conducted himself as to inspire a
belief that he had entirely reformed. But no sooner
Was he raised a step, than committing some fresh pecca-
dillo, he was compelled to desert in order to avoid pu-
nishment. He came thence to Paris, where his ex-
ploits as swindler and pickpocket procured him the
unenviable distinction of being pointed out to the po.
lice as one of the most skilful in is twofold profession.
Winter, who was what is termed a downy one,
plucked a multitude of gulpim' even in the most ele-
vated classes of society. He visited princes, dukes, the
sons of ancient senators, and it was on them or the ladies
of their circle that he made the experiments of his mis-
applied talents. The females, particularly, however
squeamish they were, were never sufficiently so to pre-
vent themselves from being plundered by him. For
several months the police were on the look out for
this seducing young man, who, changing his dress and
abode incessantly, escaped from their clutch at the mo-
ment when they thought they had him securely, when
I received orders to commence the chase after him, to
attempt his capture.
Winter was one of those Lovelaces who never deceive
a woman without robbing her. I thought that amongst
his victims I could find at least one, who, from a spi-
rit of revenge, would be disposed to put me on the


168 MEMOIRS or vrnocQ.
scent of this monster. By dint of searching, I thought
I had met with a willing auxiliary, but as these Ariadnes,
however ill used or forsaken they may be, yet shrink
from the immolation of their betrayer, I determined to
accost the damsel I met with cautiously. It was ne-
cessary, before I ventured my bark, to take soundings,
and I took care not to manifest any hostility towards
Winter, and not to alarm that residue of tenderness,
which, despite ill usage, always remains in a sensitive
heart. I made my appearance in the character of almoner
of the regiment of which he was thought to command,
and as such introduced to the ci-devant mistress of the
pretended colonel. The costume, the language, the man-
‘ net' I assumed were in perfect unison with the charac-
ter I was about to play, and I obtained to my wish the
confidence of the fair forsaken one, who gave me unwit.
tingly all the information I required. She pointed
out to me her favoured rival, who, already ill-treated by
Winter, had still the weakness to see him, and could
not forbear making fresh sacrifices for him.
I became acquainted with this charming lady, and to
obtain favour in her eyes, announced myself as a friend
of her lover‘s family. The relatives of the young giddy
pate had empowered me to pay his debts; and if she
could contrive an interview with him for me, she might
rely on being satisfied with the result of the first. Ma-
dame * * * was not sorry to have an opportunity of re-
pairing the dilapidations made on her property, and one
morning sent me a note, stating that she was going to
dine with her lover the next day at the Boulevard du
Temple, at La Galiote. At four o‘clock I went, dis-
guised as a messenger, and stationed myself at the door
of the restaurant‘s ; and after tWO hours' watch, I saw a
colonel of hussars approach. It was Winter, attended
by two servants. I went up to him, and offered to take
care of the horses, which proffer was accepted. Winter
alighted, he could not escape me, but his eyes met mine,
and with one jump he flung himself on his horse,
spurred him, and disappeared. .


unuorns or vroocQ. 169
[thought I had him, and my disappointment was
great; but I did not despair of catching my gentleman.
Some time afterwards I learnt that he was to be at the
Café Hardi, in the Boulevard des ltaliens. I went
thither with some of my agents, and when he arrived
all was so well arranged, that he had only to get into a
hackney-coach, of which Ipaid the fare. Led before
a commissary of police, he asserted that he was not
Winter; but, despite the insignia of the rank he had
conferred on himself, and the long string of orders
hanging on his breast, he was properly and officially
identified as the individual mentioned in the warrant
which I had for his apprehension.
Winter was sentenced to eight years' imprisonment,
and would now be at liberty but for a forgery which he
committed while at Bicétre, which, bringing on him a
fresh sentence of eight years at the galleys, he was con-
ducted to the Bagne at the expiration of his original
sentence, and is there at present.
This adventurer does not want wit : he is, I am told,
the author ofa vast many songs, much in fashion with
the galley-slaves, who consider him as their Anacreon.
I append one of his productions :—
Ala.— L’ Heureur Pilots.
Travaillant d'ordinaire,
La sorgue dans Pantin,‘t
Dans mainte et mainte afl'aire
Faisant trés-bou choppin,1~
Ma gente cambriote,1
Rendoublée de camelotte,§
De la dalle an flaquet ;H
Je vivais sans disgrace,
Sans regout ni moracefll'
Sans tatf et sans regret."
° Evening in Paris. t A good booty. _ 1 Chamber.
§ Full of goods. _ [1 Money in the pocket.
1 ‘Vithout fear or unelsmess. " Without care.
Q


170
MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ.
J'ai fait par comblance*
Gironde larguecapé,|
Soiffant picton sans lance,t
Pivois non maquillé,$
Iirants, passe à la rousse,|
Attachés de gratouse,*I
Combriot galuchée *
Cheminant en bon drille,
Un jour à la Courtille
Je m'en étais enganté.H
En faisant nos gambades,
Un grand messière franc,:
Voulant faire parade,
Serre un bogue d'orient §
Après la gambriade,|
Le filant sur l'estrade,II
D'esbrouf je l'estourbis,**
J'enflaque sa limace,tt
Son bogue, ses frusques, ses passes,tit
Je m'en fus au fourallis.$§§
Par contretemps, ma largue,
Voulant se piquer d'honneur,
Craignant que je la nargue
Moi que n'suis pas taffeur,|
Pour gonfler ses valades
Encasque dans un rade,III
Sert des sigues a foison***
On la crible à la grive,|||
Je m' la donne et m'esquive,:
Elle est pommée maron.§§
Le quart d'œil lui jabotte |
Mange sur tes nonneurs,I|
* An increase.
t A handsome mistress,
t Drinking wine without water.
Unadulterated wine.
| Stockings. I Lace. * Lacedhat. + Clad. tt Citizen.
A gold watch. II Dance. *II Following him in the boulevard.
* I stun him,
tf t I take off his shirt.
iit I steal his watch, clothes, and shoes.
3,he
receiving house.
| Coward.
* Steals money. fitt They cahl for the guard. tttt I fly.
Taken in the fact.
*
The commissary questions him.
** Denounces his accomplices.


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. l7l
Lui tire une carotte.
Lui montant la couleur!
L‘on vient, on me ligotte,-|-
Adieu, ma cambriote,
Mon beau pieu, mes dardants}
Je monte a la cigogne,§
On me gerbe a la grotte.||
Au tap et pour douze ansll
Ma largue n’ sera plus gironde,
Jo serais vioc aussi ;"
Faudra pour plaire au monde,
Clinquant, frusque, maquiskf
Tout puss dans la tigne,11
El quoiqu'on en juspine.§§
C'est un f flanchet,|l|l
Douze longes de tiradefllql'
Pour un rigoladef"
Pour un moment d’attrait.
Winter, when I apprehended him, had many asso-
ciates in Paris, and the Tuileries was the notorious
place where the most daring and celebrated thieves as-
sembled, who recommended themselves to public vene-
ration by impudently bedecking themselves with all the
crosses of the orders of knighthood. In the eyes of an
observer who can discern accurately, the Chateau was
then less a royal residence than a haunt infested by
these thieves. There congregated a crowd of galley-
slaves, pickpockets, and swindlers of every class, who
presented themselves as the old companions in arms of
harette, La Roche-Jaquelin, Stoflet, Cadoudal, &c.
The days of review and court assemblies witnessed the
gathering of these pretended heroes. In my office of
superior agent of police, I judged it my duty to keep a
strict look-out after these royalists of circumstances. I

° Tell a falsehood. 1' They tie me.
My fine bed, my loves. The dock.
They condemn me to the galleys. Tn exposure.
" Old “H- Rouge. I: In this world.
Whatever people say.
in Log-
Twelve years of fetters. '" I‘oo
l.
02


172 memoras or vrnocQ.
stationed myself in their way, either in or out of the
apartments, and was soon fortunate enough to restore
several of them to the Bagne.
One Sunday, accompanied by one of my auxiliaries,
I was on the watch on the Place du Carousel; we saw,
going out from the Pavillon de Flore, a person whose
costume, not less rich than elegant, attracted the atten-
tion of every person. This personage must be a great
lord: had he not been covered with orders, he would
have been recognised by the delicacy of his embroidery,
the grace of his feather, the sparkling knot of his sword;
but in the eyes of a police otficer all is not gold that
glitters. The agent with me, in drawing my attention
to this s lendid signer, observed that- there was a
striking li eness between him and one Chambreuil, with
whom he had been at the Bagne at Toulon. I had seen
Chambreuil, and I went to station myself so as to see
this person face to face; and in spite of the dress (‘1 la
Franqaise, the breeches it I'Angleterre, the laced necker-
chief and ruffles, I instantly recognised the ex-galley-
slave : it was, in fact, Chambreuil, a notorious forger,
who had obtained much celebrity by his escapes from
the galleys. His first sentence was about the period of
the successful campaigns in Italy. At this time he fol-
lowed the army, that he might the more easily imitate
the signatures of the purveyors. He had a decided
talent for this kind of imitation; but having been too
prodigal of his abilities in this way, he had ended by
procuring for himself three years’ imprisonment. Three
years soon pass away. Chambreuil could not, how-
ever, reconcile himself to his prison; he escaped, and
fled to Paris, where he put into circulation a vast many
notes of his own fabrication. This industry was con-
verted into a crime; and, again placed on his trial, he
was found guilty, and sent to Brest, where, by virtue
of his sentence, he should have passed eight years.
Chambreuil again escaped; but as forgery was his con-
stant resource, he was apprehended a third time, and
appended to the chain, which was sent to Toulon.


MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ. 173
Scarcely had he arrived'there,-when he again endea-
voured to elude the vigilance of his keepers ; but appre-
hended and sent back to the Bagne, he was placed in
the too celebrated room, No. 3, where he passed his
time, increased by three years.
During this detention, he endeavoured to amuse him-
self by dividing his leisure between denouncement and
swindling, which were no less to his taste than his other
pursuit. His choice, however, was forged letters,
which, on his leaving the Bagne, brought on him two
years’ imprisonment in the prison of Embrun.
Chambreuil had just arrived there, when S. A. R. le
duc d'Angouleme passing through this city, he caused
a petition to be presented to this prince, in which he
stated that he was an old Vendean, a devoted servant,
whose royalism had drawn down persecution upon him.
Chambreuil was immediately set at liberty, and soon
afterwards began to use his freedom as heretofore.
When we recognised him, it was easy to judge by
the figure he cut that he was in a good vein of fortune.
We followed him an instant, to convince ourselves that
it was indeed he; and as soon as all doubt was removed,
I accosted him, declaring that he was my prisoner.
Chambreuil thought then to impose upon me, by spit-
ting in my face a tremendous series of qualities and
titles, which he asserted belonged to him. He was
nothing less than director of the police of the Chateau,
and chief of the royal stud of France; whilst I was an in-
solent scoundrel, whom he was to punish instantly. In
spite of threats, I (persisted in making him get into a
hackrney-coach; an as he made some difficulty about
it, we compelled him by main force.
In presence of M. Henry, M. le director of the police
of the Chateau was not at all disconcerted; on the con-
trary, he assumed a tone of arrogant superiority, which
actually alarmed the chief of the prefecture. They all
thought that I had committed a blunder.
“ I will never put up with such an audacious insult,"
tried Chambreuil; “ it is an outrage for which I will
a
Qo


174 MEMOIRS or vroocq.
have ample reparation. I Will let you know who I am,
and we will see if you will dare to use towards me
those arbitrary measures, which even the minister would
not venture to employ."
I actually thought the moment had arrived when they
would apologize to him, and reprimand me. They did
not doubt but that Chambreuil was an old galley-slave,
but they were afraid they had offended in him some
owerful man, on whom court favours were lavished.
Iowever, I asserted, with so much energy, that he was
only an impdstor, that they could not avoid giving a.
warrant to search his residence. I was to assist the
commissary in this operation, at which Chambreuil was
to be present; and on the road he whispered to me,—
“ My dear Vidocq, there are in my secretary some
papers, which it is important to me to keep from in-
spection; promise me that you will get them, and you
s all have no cause to repent it."
“ I promise you.”
“ You will find them under a double lock, of which
I will tell you the secret."
He told me how I was to proceed; and I found the
papers in the place he had pointed out, which I kept to
add to those which confirmed the propriety of his ap-
prehension. Never had a forger so carefully arranged
the materials of his swindling. There were found at
his house a quantity of printed papers, some with this
inscription, Hams de France, others with the Police
du Roi; sheets 4) la Telliére bearing the titles of the
minister of war, statements of services, brevets, diplo-
mas, and a register of correspondence, always open
as if by accident, that any looker-in might the more
easily be deceived,—were among the documents, prov-
ing the high functions which Chambreuil took upon
himself. He was supposed to be on terms of intimacy
with the most distinguished personages; princes and
princesses wrote to him: their letters and his were
transcribed beside each other, and what appears very
strange is, that he was in correspondence with the


MBMOHIS or vrnocq. I75
préfet of police, whose reply was to be found in his
lying register, on the margin of one of his missives.
The light afforded by the search so well corroborated
my assertions respecting Chambreuil, that they did not
hesitate sending him to La Fome, there to await his
trial.
Before the tribunal it was impossible to induce him
to confess that he was a galley-slave, which 1 persisted
in calling him. He produced, on the contrary, authentic
certificates, which stated that he had not left La Vende'e
since the year 2. The judges were for a time in doubt
how to decide between him and me, but I added so
many and such powerful proofs in support of my asser-
tions, that, his identity being recognised, he was sen-
tenced to hard labour for life, and imprisoned in the
Bagne of L’Orient, where he was not slow in resuming
his old profession of denouncer. At the period of the
assassination of the Due de Berry, in concert with one
Gerard Carette, he wrote to the police that he had in-
formation to give respecting this fearful transaction.
Chambreuil was known, and not credited; but some
persons, absurd enough to believe that Louvel had ac-
complices, demanded that Carette should be brought
to Paris. This was complied with, and Carette came,
but nothing was elicited from him which threw any
additional light on the subject.
The year 1814 was one of the most remarkable of my
life, principally on account of the important captures
which followed one another. Some of them gave rise
to most whimsical incidents, and as I am in a vein I
will relate one or two.
During a period of three years, a man of almost
gigantic stature had been pointed out as the author of
a vast many robberies committed in Paris. By the
portraits which the sufferers drew of this individual, he
could be no other than Sablin, an excessively skilful
and enterprising thief, who, freed from many successive
sentences, (two of which were in fetters,) had resumed
his old trade with all the experience of the prisons.


I76 marroms or VIDOCQ.
Many warrants were issued against Sablin, and the
cleverest agents of police set upon him, but in vain; he
escaped all pursuit, and if they had notice that he had
appeared in any spot, by the time they arrived no trace
of him remained. All the police officers, being wearied
by the useless pursuit of this invisible rson, the task
devolved on me to seek out and secure im, if possible.
For fifteen months I neglected no opportunity of en-
deavouring to meet him, but he never made his appear-
ance in Paris for more than a few hours at a time, and
as soon as the robbery was effected he was away again
without our being able in any way to trace him.
Sablin was in a manner known only to me, and I,
therefore, was the person whom he most feared to meet.
As he could see me afar off, he took good care to keep
out of my way, and I never once got sight even of his
shadow.
However, as lack of perseverance is not my fault, I at
length learnt that Sablin had just taken up his residence
at Saint Cloud, where he had hired an apartment. At
this news, I set out from Paris so as not to reach there
until nightfall. It was in the month of November, and
the weather very bad. When I entered Saint Cloud,
all my clothes were wringing wet : I did not take the
trouble of drying them, and in my impatience to learn
if I had been put on a false scent, I obtained, on talking
about new comers, some news, which was that a fe-
male, whose husband, a foreign merchant, was five feet
ten inches, (French measure,) had recently occupied a
certain house pointed out to me. -
Five feet ten inches (French) is not a common height
even for Patagonians; and I no longer doubted but
that I had at last found the actual domicile of Sablin.
But, as it was too late to present myself, I deferred my
V1sit until the next day; and that I might be certain
that my man did not escape me, I resolved, in spite of
the rain, to pass the night before his house. I was in
ambuscade with one of my agents, and at break of day,
the door being opened, I glided quickly into the house


mmoms or vroocQ. 177
that I might take a survey, and see if it were time to
commence work. Searcer had I put a foot on the
first stair, when I paused,—some one was descending.
It was a woman whose features and painful step be-
toleened a state of suffering. On seeing me, she shrieked
and went back again: I followed, and entering with
her into an apartment of which she had a key, heard
myself announced in these words, pronounced in ac-
cents of horror, “ Here is Vidocq." The bed was in
an inner room, towards which I darted. A man was
in bed—he raised his head—'twas Sablin ;—I flung
myself upon him, and before he could recognise me I
had handcufi‘ed him.
During this operation the lady, having fallen into a
chair, groaned very bitterly ; she writhed, and appeared
tormented by horrid pains. ~-
“ What is the matter with your wife 7” I inquired of
Sablin.
“ Do you not see that she is in labour'.' All night
she has been in the same state. When you met her,
She was going out to mother Tire-monde's (the mid-
wife)!’ ‘ .
At that moment the groans redoubled.
“ My God ! my God! I can move no longer, I am
dying“, pray have pity on me: relieve my sufferings!
Ewe me hel 2”
Soon only half-choked sounds were heard. Not to
be touched at such'a situation would have evinced a
heart of marble. But what could I do? It was evident
that a midwife was needed, but who was to go in search
Of her? Two were not too many to guard a fellow of
Sablin’s strength. I could not go out, nor could I de-
termine on leaving a woman to die ; and between hu-
manity and duty, I was the most embarrassed man in
the world. Suddenly an historical anecdote, well told
by Madame de Genlis, occurred to me: I recalled to
mind the “ Grand Monarque" performing the office of
accoucheur to Lavalliere. Why, said I, should I be
more delicate than he? Come quick a doctor: I am


I78 neurons or vwocq.
one. I immediately took off my coat, and in less than
twenty-five minutes Madame Sablin was delivered : it
was a boy,a fine boy, to which she gave birth. I
swaddled the infant, after having made this toilet of his
first ingress or first egress, for I believe that in this in-
stance the two expressions are synonymous; and when
the ceremony was over, on looking at my work, I had
the satisfaction to find that both mother and child were
doing “ as well as could be expected."
Then I had to fulfil a form, the entry of the little
newcome on the register of the civil magistrates; we
were all anxious : I offered to be subscribing witness ;
and when I had signed, Madame Sablin said to me,
“ Ah I Monsieur Jules, since you are here, there is
another seqice you could render us."
“ What?”
“ I dare scarcely name it."
“ Speak, if it be in my power .
“ We have no godfather; would you be kind enough
to stand for the boy?"
“ Certainly, as well as another; where is the god-
mother 1'"
Madame Sablin begged us to call in one of her
neighbours; and as soon as all was in readiness, we
went to church, accompanied by Sablin, whose escape
I had rendered impossible. The honours of this spon-
sorship did not cost me less than fifty francs, and yet
there was no christening feast.
In spite of the vexation which Sablin necessarily
experienced, he was so deeply penetrated by my pro-
ceedings, that he could not t'orbear testifying his gra-
titude.
After a good breakfast, which was brought to us in
the chamber of the lying-in lady, I conducted her hus-
band to Paris, where he was sentenced to five years‘
imprisonment. Being master turnkey at. La Force,
where he underwent his sentence, Sablin found in this
employment, not only a means of living well, but also
that of saving, at the expense of the prisoners and the
”


srsmorns or VIDQCQ- 179
persons who visited them, a small fortune, which he
roposed to share with his wife; but at the period of
his liberation, my friend Madame Sablirr, who also had
a partiality for the property of others, was expiating her
crime at Saint-Lazare. In the isolation consequent on
the incarceration of his mate, Sablin, like many others,
turned to evil courses, that is, having one evening in
his pocket the fruits of his savings, which he had turned
into specie, he went to the gambling table and lost the
whole. Two days afterwards, he was found suspended
in the wood of Boulogne: he had selected as the in-
strument of his death one of the trees in the Allée des
Voleurs.
It was not, as may have been seen, without much
trouble that I was able to render Sablin up to justice.
Certainly if all my searches had been of necessity as
tedious and difiicult, I could not have accomplished
them: but success generally attended me, and some-
times was so close at hand, that I myself was amazed
at it.
A few days after my adventure in Saint-Cloud, the
Sieur Sebillotte, a vintner in the Rue de Charenton,
No. 145,4 complained of having been robbed. Accord-
ing to his statement, the thieves had effected an en-
trance by climbing, between seven and eight o’clock in
the evening; had carried of!" twelve thousand francs in
cash, two gold watches, and six silver spoons. There
had been force used externally and internally. All the
circumstances were so extraordinary, that the veracity
of M. Sebillotte was somewhat doubted, and I was
ordered to clear the afl'air up. A conversation I had
with him convinced me that his complaint compre-
hended only plain facts.
M. Sebillotte was a landlord; he was in easy circum-
stances, and out of debt; consequently I could not
detect in his situation a shadow of a motive which
might lead me to believe that the robbery of which he
complained was false; and yet it was of such a nature,
that, to commit it, the persons of the house must have


180 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
been perfectly well known to the thieves. I asked M.
Sebillotte what persons frequented his cabaret; and
when he had mentioned some, he said,
“ That is nearly all, except chance customers, and
those strangers who cured my wife: on my word
we were very lucky to have met with them! the poor
thing had been sufl‘ering these three years, and they
have given her a remedy which has done her much
good."
“ Do you often see these strangers 1“
“They used to come here, but since my wife is
better, we only see them occasionally."
“ Do you know what they are? Perhaps they may
have observed —-"
“ Ah ! Sir,” cried Madame Sebillotte, who joined in.
the conversation, “ do not suspect them, they are ho-
nest, I have proof of that."
~ “ Yes, yes i” added the husband, “ she has proof,
which she will tell you: you will hear. Tell the gen-
tleman, my dear."
Then Madame Sebillotte began her recital in these
terms 2—-
“ Yes, sir, they are honest, or I will be burnt alive.
Well, you must know, it is not more than a fortnight
ago, it was just a week after the term, I was counting
out some money, when one of the females who is with
them came in; it was she who had given me the re-
medy, from which I have had so much relief; and, I
must tell you, she would not accept a sous for it,'quite
the contrary. You must suppose that I was very much
pleased at seeing her; I made her sit down beside me,
and whilst I was laying out the money in parcels of a
hundred francs, she saw one on which was a large
man leaning on two young ones, with a skin on his
shoulders like a savage, holding a club: ‘ Ah !' said
she, ‘have you many.like these 1" ‘ Why 3’ said I.
‘ Because, you must know, that is worth a hundred
and four sons. As many as you have, my husband
will take at that price, if you will lay them aside.’


MEMOIRS or vroocq. 18]
I thought she was jesting; but in the evening I
was never more surprised than to see her return with
her husband. We looked over the money together,
and as we found amongst it three hundred pieces of a
hundred sous, like those she had pointed out, I let him
have them, and he gave me a premium of sixty francs.
You may judge after that if they are honest ople or
not, since they might, if they had liked, have ad them
coin for coin. ’
By the work we know the workmen. The last sen-
tence of Madame Sebillotte informed me what sort of
people were those honest creatures whose eulogy she
made; nor did I need more to be assured, that the
robbery, the authors of which I sought to detect, had
been committed by the Bohémiens. The matter of
exchange was quite in their way; and then Madame
Sebillotte, in describing them, only confirmed me more
and more in my preconceived opinion.
I soon left the couple, and from that moment all dark
cornplexions were looked at by me with suspicion. I
was thinking how and where 1 should be most likely to
fall in with some of the persons I wanted, when, passing
along the Boulevard du Temple, I saw, seated in a
cabaret, called La Maison Rustique, two persons, whose
copper-hued skin and foreign look awoke in my mind
reminiscences of my sojourn at Malines. I entered;
who should I see but Christian, with one of his pals,
whom I also knew. I went up to them, and presenting
my hand to Christian, saluted him by the name of
Coroin. He looked at me for a moment, and then, my
features becoming known to him, “ Ah," he cried,
jumping on my neck with transport, “ my old friend.”
_ So long a period had passed since we met, that, of
course, after the customary compliments, we had many
questions to ask and reply to mutually. He wanted to
know why I left Malines ;.and without intimating my
intention to him, I trumped up a story which passed
current.
“All right, all right,” said he; “ whether true or
VOL. III. R '


182 memoms or VanCQ.
not, I credit it: besides, I find you again, and that is
the main point. Ah! all our old cronies will rejoice to
see you. They are all in Paris. Caron, Langarin,
Rufiier, Martin, Sisque, Mich, Litle; even old mother
Lavio is with us ; and Betche too, little Betche."
“ Ah, yes, your wife.“
“ How pleased she will be to see you. If you will
be here at six o‘clock the union will be complete ; we
are to meet here, and go to the theatre together. You
shall be of the party; but we will not part now. You
have not dined ?"
“ No.”
“ Nor I either; we will go to Capucin.”
“ If you like; it is close at hand.”
“ Yes, only two steps, at the corner of the Rue
d‘Angouléme.”
This vintner and cook, whose establishment bears a
grotesque image of a disciple of Saint Francis as a sign,
then enjoyed the favour of the public, in whose eyes
quantity is always more valued than qualiti ; and then
for the holiday keepers on Sunday and Saint Monday,—
for those jolly fellows, who carry on the war the whole
week, is it not very pleasant to have a place where,
without faring badly or offending any person, they ma
appear in all sorts of garbs, with any growth of beard,
and in every state of intoxication?
Such were the advantages which offered themselves
at Capucin's, without mentioning the large snuff-box
always open on the citizen‘s counter, at the service of
whosoever, in passing, wished to refresh his nostrils
with a pinch. It was four o'clock when we installed
ourselves in this spot of liberty and joy. The space
was long till six o'clock. I was impatient to return to
the Maison Rustique, where Christian’s companions
were to meet. After the repast we rejoined them;
there were six, in accosting whom Christian spoke in
their peculiar language. They instantly surrounded,
hailed, embraced, welcomed me with acclamation ;
pleasure sparkled in their eyes.


MEMulRS 0F vmocq. 183
“ No play, no play," cried the wanderers, with una-
nlmous VOICE.
“ You are right,” said Christian, “ no play; we will
go to the theatre another time; let us drink, my boys,
let us drink."
" Let us drink,“ echoed the Bohémiens. Wine and
punch circulated freely. I drank, laughed, talked,
and carried on my trade. I watched their counte-
nances, motions, actions, and nothing escaped me. I
recalled to myself some indications furnished by Mon-
sieur and Madame Sebillotte; and the history of the
hundred sous pieces, which had only been the first
slight groundwork of a conjecture, became the basis of
confirmed nviction.
Christian, or his mates, I could no longer doubt were
the authors of the robbery announced to the police.
How did I commend the casual glance made so a propos
at the interior of La. Maison Rustique! But it was
not all to have detected the guilty ; I waited until their
brains were properly heated by the alcoholic applica-
tions; and when the whole party was in a state when
one candle was enough to show two persons, I went
out, and, running hastily to the Theatre de la Gaité,
informed the officer on duty that I was with some
thieves, and arranged with him that in an hour or two
at latest he should apprehend us all, men and women.
These instructions given, I returned quickly. My
absence had not been remarked ; but at ten o'clock the
house was visited, the peace-ofiicer presented himself,
and with him a formidable body of gendarmes and
agents. They secured each of us separately, and then
conducted us to the guard-house.
The commissary had preceded us; he ordered a
general search. Christian, who called himself Hirch,
in vain endeavoured to conceal M. Sebillotte’s six silver
spoons; and his companion, Madame Villemain, (the
title the lady gave herself,) could not preserve in secret,
from the rigid search she underwent, the two gold
watches mentioned in the complaint. The others were
it 2


184 umrorns or vrnocq.
also compelled to produce money and jewels, which
were taken from them.
I was anxious to know the opinion of my ancient
comrades on this matter. I thought I read in their
eyes that the did not in the least distrust me; nor was
I mistaken, or scarcely had we reached the violon,(the
watch-house,) than they made me excuses for having
been the involuntary cause of my arrest.
“ It was not purposely done,” said Christian, “ but
who the devil could have expected such a thing? You
were quite right to say you knew nothing about us:
be quiet, and we will not say a word to the contrary;
and, as nothing has been found on your person to put
you in any danger, you may be certain they will not
long detain you.”
Christian then recommended discretion to me, as to
his real name, as well as those of his companions,-
“ Although," he added, “ the recommendation is su-
perfluous, since you are not less interested than we, in
keeping silence on this score."
“ I offered to the gipsies to use the first moments of
my liberty in their service; and in the hope that I should
not be kept long in durance, they told me their domi-
cile, so that in getting out I might inform their com-
rades. About midnight the commissary sent for me,
under retence of examining me, and we instantly went
to the arché Lenoir, where dwelt the famous Duchesse
and three other pals of Christian, whom we appre-
hended by virtue of a warrant, and after a search, which
produced all necessary proofs for their conviction.
This band consisted of twelve persons, six men and
six women; they were all condemned, the former to
irons, the latter to close confinement. The vintner of
the Rue de Charenton recovered his jewellery, plate,
and the greater portion of his money.
Madame Sebillotte was overjoyed. The specific of
the Bohémiens had the effect of rendering her health less
precarious, the information of the twelve thousand
francs regained perfectly restored it, and doubtless the


traumas or vrnocq. 185
experience she had was not lost upon her; she remem-
bered that, once in her life, she had nearly been agreat
loser, by having sold five-franc ieces for a hundred
and four sous. “ A burnt child reads the fire."
This meeting with the Bohémiens was almost miracu-
lous ; but in the course of eighteen years that I have
been attached to the police, it has happened more than
once that I have been casually brought in contact with
persons whom in my early days I had known.
A propos of occurrences ofthis kind, I cannot resist
the desire of mentioning in this chapter one of the
thousand absurd complaints which it was my lot to re-
ceive daily; this in particular procured for me a very
singular renewal of acquaintance.
One morning whilst I was occupied in drawing up a
report, I was told that a lady of respectable appearance
desired to see me; she has, was added, to speak with
you on an affair of importance. I ordered that she
should be admitted instantly. She entered.
“ I have to beg pardon t'or disturbing you; you are
Monsieur Vidocq? It is to Monsieur Vidocq that I
have the honour of addressing myself .7”
“ Yes, madame; and in what can I be of service to
you 1'”
“ Oh, you can aid me materially, sir ; you can restore
to me appetite and sleep. I neither rest nor eat.—Ah,
how wretched is it to be gifted with excessive sensibi-
lity. Ah! sir, how I pity persons of our sentiment!
I swear to you that it is the most distressing qualifica-
tion that Heaven can bestow l—He was so well brought
up, so interesting—If you had known him you could
not have forborne loving him— Poor dear!
“ But, madame, condescend to explain : you may per-
haps sufl'er by a causeless delay, and lose precious time.”
“ He was my only comfort—”
“ Well, madame, what is it?”
“ I have not power to tell you.”
She put her hand into her reticule, and thence pro-
n 3


186 usuoms or vroocq.
duced a paper which she gave me with averted eyes,
saying, “ Read, read," _
“ These are printed papers you have given me ; you
must have made some mistake.”
“ Would that I did, sir; would to heaven that I did.
I beseech you to cast your eyes over the number 32,740;
my grief forbids me to utter more! Ah! how cruel is
my fate—(Tears fell from her eyes, the word expired
upon her lips, she was convulsed by sobs, and could
with apparent difficulty prevent them suffocating her.)
I am strangledl I am choking! I feel something swell-
ing in my throat—Ah! ah! ah! ah i"
I handed a seat to the lady, and whilst she aban-
doned herself to her sorrow, I turned over two or three
leaves, until I reached No. 32,740, under the head of
lost property; the page was moist with tears ; I read :
“A small s aniel, with long silvery silky hair, drop-
“ ping ears; he is perfectly trimmed; a mark of fire
“ above each eye: physiognomy excessively animated,
“ the tail trum et-fashion, forming the bird of paradise.
“ His natural isposition is very endearing ; will eat no-
“ thing but the white of a chicken, and answers to the
“ name of Garcon, pronounced with mildness. His mis-
“ tress is in despair; fifty francs reward will be given to
“whosoever will bring him to the Rue de Turenne,
“ N0. 23."
“ Well, madame! what am I to do for Garcon? Dogs
are not under my control. I see that he was a most
amiable creature.’
“ Ah! sir, amiable! that is the exact word," sighed
the lady, in accents that penetrated the very heart ;
“ and his intelligence could not be surpassed ; he never
left me.-—Dearest Garcon l Would you believe it, that
during the holy exercises, be had a more devout look
than myself? In truth, be was generally admired, his
appearance alone was a lesson to mankind.—Alas !
alas! on Sunday last we were going together to the sa¢
crament, I was carrying him under my arm; you know


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 187
these little creatures have perpetual wants—at the mo-
ment we were entering the church, I put him on the
ground, that he might do as he wished; I went on-
wards, not to disturb him, and when I returned—no
Garcon.—I called Garcon, Garcon l—he had disap-
peared. I left the Benedictine to run after him ; and—
judge of my misery—I could not find him. This is the
business that has induced me to trouble you to day, to
entreat that you wculo have the excessive kindness to
have a search made for him. I will pay all that is need-
ful; but take care he is not ill used. I am sure the
fault has not been his."
“ Indeed, madame, whether he is in fault or not is
no concern of mine; your complaint is not of that na-
ture to which I am allowed to attend; if we were to
give our time to dogs, cats, and birds, there would be
endless work.”
“ Well, sir; since you take that tone, I shall address
his excellency. If there is no respect shown to persons
who think well—Do you know I belong to the congre-
gation, and that—"
“ You may belong to the devil for me—”
I could not finish my speech: a deformity which I
observed suddenly in the devout mistress of Garcon,
produced from me a sudden fit of laughter, which en-
tirely disconcerted her.
“ Am not I an object of mirth?” said she, “ laugh
away, sir, laugh away."
When my sudden gaiety had a little abated, I said :—
“ Forgive, madame,_this impulse, which I could not
control; I did not know at first with whom I was con-
versing, but now I know how I should behave. Do
you really deplore the loss of Garcon ?"
“ Ah! sir, I cannot survive it,”
“ You have never then experienced a loss which
more sensibly afl‘ected you 1"
“ No, sir.“
“ Yet you have had a husband in this world, you had
a son, you have had lovers—"


188 MBMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
“ l, sir! how dare you—”
“ Yes, Madame Dutlos, you have had lovers; you
have really had them. Do you remember a certain
night at Versailles?"
At these words she looked at me attentively for a
moment ; the colour came to her cheek.
“ Eugene!“ she cried, and instantly hastened from
the room.
Madame Duflos was a milliner whose clerk I had
been for some time, when, to hide from the search of
the police at Arras, I had concealed myself in Paris.
She was a droll sort of woman; she had a fine
head, bold eye, good eyebrow, majestic forehead; her
mouth, elevated at the corners, was large, but adorned
with thirty-two teeth of dazzling whiteness; hair of a
beautiful black, and aquiline nose, above a tolerably
well-furnished moustache, gave to her physiognomy an
air which would have been imposing, if her bosom
placed between two humps, and her neck plunged into
these double shoulders had not suggested the idea of a
female Punch.
She was about forty when I first saw her: her ap-
pearance was most studiously attended to, and she gave
erself the airs of a queen; but from the height of the
chair whereon she was perched, so that her knees were
elevated above the counter, she seemed less like a Se-
miramis than the grotesque idol of some Indian pa-
goda. When I saw her on this species of throne,I had
much difliculty to be serious; but I preserved the gra-
vity which circumstances demanded, and had just suf-
ficient command over myself to convert into salutations
of the most respectful kind a strong disposition to do
entirely otherwise. Madame Duflos took from her bo-
som a large eye-glass, through which she viewed me, and
when she had taken my dimensions from head to foot,
“ What is your pleasure, sir '.'“ she said.
I was about to reply, but aclerk who had undertaken
to present me, having told her that [was the young
man of whom he had spoken, she looked at me again,


190 memoms or vrnoco.
fortune; a young man should have some person who
can assist him, some person of sense and reason,”
During this moral lesson, Madame Duflos, carelessly
extended on an easy couch, rolled about her eyes in a
way that would infallibly have led to an overpowering
burst of laughter from me, had not her head-woman
entered very opportunely to tell her that she was wanted
in the work-room.
Thus terminated this interview, which proved to me
the necessity of being on my guard. Without renounc-
ing my intentions, I only appeared to look on the young
women with indifference, and was skilful enough to
set her penetration at default; she watched me inces-
santly, spied my gestures, my words, my looks ; but she
was only astonished at one thing,-—the rapidity of my
progress. I had only passed one month‘s apprenticeship
and could already sell a shawl, a fancy gown, a cap, or
a bonnet, as well as the most experienced hand. Ma-
dame was delighted, and had even the kindness to say,
that, if I continued as attentive to her lessons, she did
not despair of making me the cock of the mode, (le
coq de la nouveauté.)
“ But,“ she added, “ mind, no familiarity with the
pullets; you understand me, M. Eugene; you under-
stand me. And I have also another thing to recom-
mend to you, that is, not to neglect your personal ap-
earance, nothing is so genteel as a well-dressed man.
esides, I will undertake to provide your dress for' the
present; let me do so, and you will see if I will not
make a little Love of you.”
I thanked Madame Duflos, but as I feared that with
_ her extraordinary taste she might make of me some
such a Cupid as she was herself a Venus,I told her
that I wished to spare her the care of a metamorphosis
which appeared to me impossible; but, that if she
would confine herself to her kind advice, I should re-
ceive it with gratitude, and seek to profit by it.
Some time afterwards, (four days before Saint Louis,)
Madame Duflos told me, that intending as usual to go


MEMOIRS or vrnocQ. 191
to the fair of Versailles with some goods, she had dc-
cided that I should attend her. We started the next
day, and forty-eight hours afterwards were established
at the Champ-de-Foire. A servant who had attended
us slept in the shop; as for me, I lodged with madame,
at the auberge; we had ordered two rooms, but in con-
sequence of the influx of strangers, we could only have
one : resignation was compulsory. In the evening,
madame had a large screen brought, with which she
divided the room into two, so that we each had our
own apartment. Before we went to bed, she preached
to me for an hour. Afterwards, we went up stairs;
madame entered her division, I wished her good
evening, and in two minutes was in bed. Soon sighs
began to escape her, doubtless caused by the fatigue
which she had experienced during the day; she sighed
again, but the candle was out, and I went to sleep.
Suddenly, I was interrupted in my first nap, I thought
some one pronounced my name; I listened.
“ Eugene."
It was the voice of Madame Duflos. I made no reply.
' “ Eugene," she called again, “ have you closed the
door properly '2"
“ Yes, madame."
“ I think you mistake; ,look I beg of you, and see
if the bolt is properly secured; we cannot be too careful
in these auberges."
I did as desired, and returned to my bed. Scarcer
was I laid once more on my left side than madame
began to complain.
“ What a miserable bed! I am eaten up by the
bugs, it is impossible to close an eye l And you, Eu-
gene, have you any of these insupportable insects ?"
I turned a deaf ear to the question.
“ Eugene, answer me; have you any of these bugs,
as I have?
“ On my word, madame, I have not yet found any."
“ You are very fortunate then, and I congratulate you ;
~ as for me, I am devoured by them, I have bites of such


nemoms or vrnocq. 198
From this time I had the job of watching every night
that madame was not tormented by bugs. My service
by day was rendered much easier. Considerations,
anticipations, little presents—nothing was spared; I
was, like the conscript of Charlet, nourished, shod,
clothed, and put to bed at the expense of the princess.
Unfortunately, the princess was somewhat jealous, and
her rule a little despotic. Madame Duflos asked no-
thing more but that, in more senses than one, I should
amuse myself like a hump-backed man ; but she went
into most tremendous fits of rage if I even glanced at
another woman. At last, worn out by this tyranny, I
declared one evening that I would free myself from it.
“ Ah ! you will leave me then," said she, “ we will
see about that."
Then arming herself with a knife, she darted at me
to plunge it in my heart. I seized her arm, and her
rage being appeased, I agreed to remain, on con~
dition that she would be more reasonable. She pro-
mised ; but, from the next day, curtains of green tafTety
were placed over the windows of the room in which I
was placed, as madame had thought it fit to intrust me
exclusively with keeping her books. This proceeding
was the more vexatious, as I had then no prospect of
any control over the work-room.
Madame Dufios was most ingenious in isolating me
from the rest of the world; every day there was a new
precaution for my security. At last my slavery was so
rigorous, that every person saw through the tenderness
of which I was the object. The shop girls, who liked
nothing better than teasing madame, came to speak to
me every instant, sometimes with one excuse, some-
times another; poor Madame Dufios was tormented to
death by it! how pitiablel Every hour in the day she
poured forth her reproaches on me, and never gave
one instant’s intermission. I could not for any length
of time remain easy under such a despotism. To avoid
a burst, which, in my situation, might have involved
VOL. In 5


194 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
me (I had then just escaped from the Bagne) I secretly
took a place by the diligence, and absconded.
How little did I then think, that, after a lapse of
twenty years, I should meet again in the police ofiice,
my little llumpina of the Rue Saint Martin : the pro-
verb would have it so: two mountains never meet.

CHAPTER XLII.
The joll butcher—A still tongue shows a wise hend—fhe harmless.
ness oiylight wines—A murder—The magistrates of Corbeil—The
removal of the body—The accusing address—'Tis either he, or his
brother—The criminating wound—I hit upon the right man—Tho
mark of Cain—The morning‘s alarm—Arrest of a suspected pair—
One culprit taken—A second sought after—he is accused of being
a liberal—The goguettes. or the herds of the quai du Nerd—A pres
toxt—Seditious sou s—I become an assistant in lllt' kitchen—Genuine
wine—The man of principle—A removal to the prefecture—Con-
fession—Resurrection of a dealer in poultry, 8w —A scene of som_
nambulism—Jl‘he guilty parties confronted—Haber“: cunfitenln
reus—A friendly embrace—A supper under lock and key—De-
parture from Paris.
FOR. upwards of four months a great number of mur~
ders and highway robberies had been committed on all
the roads conducting to the capital, without its having
been possible to discover the perpetrators of these
crimes. In vain had the police kept a strict watch upon
the actions of all suspected persons—their utmost dili-
gence was fruitless; when a fresh attempt, attended
with circumstances of the most horrible nature, supplied
them with hints from which they could at length antici-
pate bringing the culprits to justice. A man named
ontaine, a butcher, living at la Courtille, was going
to a fair in the district of Corbeil, carrying with him
his leather bag, in which was safely deposited the sum
of 1,500 francs; he had passed the Cour de France,
and was walking on in the direction of Essonne, when,
at a trifling distance from an auberge where he had


mmouts or vrnoco. 195
had stopped to take some refreshment, he came up with
two very well-dressed men. As evening was ap-
proaching, Fontaine was not sorry to obtain fellow
travellers ; he therefore addressed the two strangers,
who were not slow in returning his salutation, and a
conversation soon arose between them. “ Good even-
ing, gentlemen," said he to them.-“ The same to you ,"
replied they. “ We shall soon have night overtake us,”
resumed the butcher. “ We shall indeed, sir," an-
swered one of the two pedestrians, “ and at this season
of the year we must not reckon upon much assistance
from the twilight.”
“ I should care very little about it," added Fontaine,
“ but, unfortunately, I have still a considerable distance
to walk to-night."
“ And where may you be proceeding to, if it be not
too impertinent a question ?“
.“ Where am I going? Why, to Milly, to purchase
shee
“ n that case, if agreeable to you, we may as well
join company; my friend and‘self are proceeding to
Corbeil on business, so that chance has been most
favourable to us."
“ Agreed!” exelaimed the butcher, “ things could
not have fallen out better; nor shall I be slow in pro-
fiting by it; for, in my humble opinion, when one has
money about one,_travelling in good company is far
more pleasant than being quite alone."
“ You have money about you, then T‘
“ You are right there, my friend, and a pretty con-
siderable sum too."
“ Well, we likewise have large sums ; but we were
informed that we ran no risk, as this part of the country
was considered perfectly safe."
“ Indeed l I am glad to hear it; but, were it other-
wise, I.have something here (showing a huge stick)
that would make a tolerable resistance ; besides, I
think, the most daring thieves would hardly have the
s 2


196 msuorns or vrnocQ.
courage to attack three such formidable antagonists as
we should make."
“ No, no ; they would not dare to medd-le with us."
Conversing thus, the trio reached the door of a small
house, which the branch of juniper, decorating the
entrance, designated as a cabaret. Fontaine pro-
posed to his companions to take a bottle together.
They entered; procured some Beaugency at eight sols
the flask, and seated themselves to enjoy it. The cheap-
ness of the wine—its harmless nature—their meeting
with it at a time when weariness had begun to steal
over at least one of the party—were so many reasons
for lengthening their stay.—At last they rose to depart;
and a general emulation arose as to who should defray
the reckoning. Nearly an hour, during which more
than one fresh bottle was discussed, passed in this
amicable dispute ; which, being at last yielded in favour
of Fontaine, completed the elevation of his spirits, and
raised him to the highest pitch of gaiety. Under similar
circumstances, what man could have harboured sus-
picion '.'
Poor Fontaine, delighted at having met with such
agreeable companions, thought he could not do better
than take them as guides for the remaining part of his
journey ; and in full confidence of their integrity, aban-
doned himself to their guidance along the by-road
they were then travelling. He walked on, therefore,
with one of his newly found friends, whilst the second
followed close behind. The night was very dark,
scarcely allowing the travellers to distinguish one step
before the other; but guilt, with its lynx-like eye, can
penetrate the thickest gloom; and while Fontaine was
unsuspectingly following the path recommended by
his companion, the one who remained behind him
struck him over the head a violent blow with his cudgel,
which made him reel : surprised, but not intimidated,
he was about to turn round to defend himself, when a
second blow, more fatal than the first, brought him to


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 197
the ground : immediately the other robber, armed with
a short dagger, threw himself upon him, and ceased
not to deal out murderous wounds, till he believed his
victim had ceased to exist.
Fontaine had yielded after a long and desperate
struggle, and lay as apparently lifeless as his assassins
would have had him. They quickly stripped him of
the contents of his money-bag, with which they made
off, leaving him weltering in his blood. Happily, it
was not long before a passenger, attracted b his
groans, came to his succour, and discovere the
wretched man, whom the freshness of the night air had
recalled to his senses. After having rendered him what
assistance was in his power, the stranger hastened to
the nearest hamlet in search of further aid—informa-
tion was immediately despatched to the magistrates of
Corbeil—the attorney-general arrived without delay at
the place of crime, and commenced the most diligent
inquiries respecting the slightest circumstances attend-
ing it. Eight and twenty wounds, more or less deep,
bore ample testimony how much the murderers had
feared that their victim should escape them. Spite of
the cruelty of their intention, Fontaine was yet able to
utter a few words, although his extreme exhaustion
from loss of blood rendered him unable to give all the
particulars which were necessary for the ends of justice.
He was removed to the hospital, and at the end of two
days, so favourable a change took place, that he was
pronounced out of danger.
The most minute exactitude had been observed in
removing the body. Nothing had been neglected which
might lead to the discovery of the assassins. Accu-
rate impressions were taken of the footmarks; buttons,
fragments of paper dyed in blood were carefully col-
lected : on one of these pieces, which appeared to have
been hastily torn off to wipe the blade of a knife found
at no great distance from it, was observed some written
characters, but they were without any connecting sense.
and, consequently, unable to afford any information
5


198 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
' likely to throw a light on the affair. Nevertheless, the
attorney-general attached a great importance to the ex-
planation of these fragments ; and, upon more narrowly
exploring the spot where Fontaine had been found
lying, a second morsel was picked up, which presented
every appearance of being part of a torn address: by
dint of close examination, the following words were
deciphered :—
A Monsieur Rao—
Marchand de vins, bar——
Roche—
Cli—
This piece of paper seemed to have once formed part
ofa printed address; but of whose address? It was at
present wholly impossible to make out. However that
might be, as no circumstance is too slight to deserve
notice in the absence of more substantial proofs, notes
Were carefully made of every thing that might be here-
after available information. The magistrates assembled
on this occasion received the thanks their extreme zeal
and ability so fully merited. So soon as they had ful-
filled this part of their mission, they returned with all.
haste to Paris, in order to concert further plans with
the judicial and administrative authority. At their
‘desire, I had immediate conference with them, and,
furnished with a procés verbal prepared by them, I
opened the campaign against the assassins. Their vic-
tim had sufficiently described them; but how could I
place implicit reliance on information proceeding from
such a source? Few men in imminent danger can
preserve sufficient presence of mind to take accurate
views of all that is passing; and upon the present
occasion I was the more inclined to doubt the testimony
of Fontaine, from the extreme nicety with which he
detailed the most trifling particulars; he related, that
, during the long struggle he had with the assailants, one
of them had fallen on- his knees, uttering a cry of pain;
and that he heard him moaning and complaining to his
accomplice of suffering extreme pain. Similar remarks


msmorns or VIDOCQ. 199
to this which he pretended to have made, appeared to
me very extraordinary, considering the state in which
he was found. I could not bring myself to believe that
he himself felt quite assured of the correctness of his
reminiscences. I determined, nevertheless, to trrrn them
to the best account I could ; but still I required a more
definite point to start from. The torn address was, in
my estimation, an enigma, which must first be solved ;
and, to elfect this, I racked my brains day and night,
and at last felt satisfied, that, exce ting the name, (re-
specting which I had but few oubts,) the perfect
address would run thus :— .
A Monsieur ,
Marcltand de vins,
Barriere Rochechouart.
Chausae'e de Ch'gnancourl.
It. was therefore evident that the assassins were in
league with a wine-merchant of that neighbourhood ;-
perhaps the wine-merchant himself was one of the per-
petrators of the crime. I set my plans to work, so as
to know the truth as quickly as possible; and before
the end of the day I was satisfied that I had been right
in directing my suspicions towards an individual named
Raoul. This man had become known to me under
very unfavourable auspices ; he passed for one of the
most daring traffickers in contraband goods, and the
cabaret kept by him had long been marked out as the
rendezvous where a crowd of suspicious persons nightly
celebrated their riotous orgies. Raoul had moreover
married the sister of a liberated galley-slave; and I was
informed that he was linked in with persons of both
sexes, of characters as desperate as their fortunes. In
a word, his reputation was that of a loose and pro-
fligate man; and whenever a crime was denounced, if
he had not positively participated in it, all thought
themselves warranted in saying to him, “ [fit were not
done by yourself, at least it was the work of your bro-
ther, or some of your relations.”
Raoul, however, contrived to anticipate every scheme


200 MEMOXRS or vrooco.
laid for entrapping him, either through his own saga-
city, or the hints of his associates. I resolved, as a first
step, to keep a careful watch over all the approaches to
the cabaret ; and I charged my agents to o serve, with
a scrutinizing eye, the different persons who frequented
it, in order to ascertain whether, amongst the number,
there might not be found one who was wounded in the
knee, While my spies were at the post I had assigned
to them, my own observations soon informed me that
Raoul was in the constant habit of receiving at his
house one or two persons of infamous character, with
whom he seemed upon terms of the closest intimacy,
The neighbours atfirmed that they were frequently seen
going out together, that they made long absences, and
that it was universally believed that the greater part of
honest Raoul’s profits were those drawn from his deal~
ings in contraband goods. A wine-merchant, who pos-
sessed the greatest facility of observing what was going-
on in Raoul‘s domicile, told me that he had often ob-
served these worthy friends stealing from the house in
the gloom of the evening, and returning at an early
hour the following morning, apparently exhausted with
fatigue, and splashed up to the neck. I further learned
that he had set up a target in his garden, and was con-
stantly practising firing with a pistol. Such were the
particulars I gathered respecting this notable character
rom all who knew any thing of him. At the same
time my agents brought me the intelligence of their
having observed at the house of Raoul a man, whom, for
many reasons, they surmised to be one of the assassins
we were in search of. This person had first attracted
their suspicions by a halt in his gait, proceeding not so
much from habitual lameness, as from recent injury;
and upon further examination of his person and dress,
both were found in close agreement with the description
given by Fontaine of one of the robbers. My agents
further informed me that the man in question was gene-
rally accompanied by his wife; and that both appeared
on the best possible terms with Raoul. My emissaries


uzuoms or vinocq. 201
had succeeded in tracing their abode, which was in the
first floor of a house situated in the Rue Coquenard;
and here, in the apprehension of giving the slightest
hint of their sus icions to the suspected pally, their
investigations ha rested.
These particulars strengthened all my conjectures,
and I was no sooner in possession of them, than I de-
termined to go myself, and watch near the house which
had been described to me. It was now night, and I
was compelled to defer my purpose till the coming
morn ; however, before the sun had risen, I was on the
look-out in the Rue Coquenard. I remained there
without perceiving any thing worthy of notice till four
o'clock in the afternoon, and was beginning to grow
impatient of the little success our plans seemed likely
to realize, when my agents pointed out to me an indi_
vidual, whose features and name suddenly occurred to
my memory. “ See! there he is,” cried they; and
scarcely had my eyes glanced over him, than I recog-
nised a person named Court, whom, from previous cir-
cumstances fresh in my recollection, I instantly set
down as one of the assassins I was in search of. His
principles, which were of the most abandoned nature,
had drawn down upon him, on many important occa-
sions, severe consequences. He had just been punished
by a six months‘ imprisonment for some fraudulent
act, and I well remembered having arrested him once
before for a highway robbery. In a word, he was one
of those degraded beings who, like Cain, bore on his
forehead the stamp of shame and death.
Without being much ofa prophet, one might boldly
have predicted that this man was destined to a scaffold.
One of those resentiments, which have never deceived
me, told me that he had at length reached the term of
that perilous career to which a blind fatality had con-
ducted him. However, not wishing to hazard success
by precipitancy, I inquired, with all possible caution,
what were his means of procuring a subsistence. No
one could satisfy me; and it appeared a notorious


202 menoms or vmoco.
truth, that he was never known either to possess a
shilling, or to have any ostensible method of earning
one. The neighbours, when questioned, assured me
that he led a most dissolute life, and, in fact, was con-
sidered as a person of extremely bad connexions and
pursuits; his very look would have condemned him in
a court of justice; and for my ownself, who had such
powerful reasons for concluding both himself and his
confederate Raoul to be finished rogues and highway-
men, it may be readily supposed I lost no time in
applying for warrants for their apprehension. The
necessary papers were no sooner as ed for than given ;
and the very next morning, almost before daylight ap-
peared, I repaired to the house where Court lodged;
aving ascended the stairs till I reached the landing-
place on the first floor, I knocked at his door.
“ Who is there T" asked a voice from within.
“Who should it be but Raoul i” said I, imitating
the voice of the latter; “ come, come, friend, open the
door.”
“ Well, don’t be in a hurry then," answered he; and,
listening, I could distinctly hear the hasty movements
of some one preparing to unfasten the door, which was
no sooner unclosed, than, believing he was speaking to
his friend Raoul, “ Well,” exclaimed he, “ what news?
any thing fresh turned up?”
“ Yes, yes,” replied I, “ I have a thousand things to
say to you ;" but by this, through the glimmer of morn-
ing twilight, he discovered his error, and cried out, in
a voice expressive of the greatest alarm, “ Bless me,
if it is not Monsieur Jules i" (This was the name
which I was generally called by common women and
thieves.)
“ M. Jules l” repeated the wife of Court, still more
alarmed than her husband.
‘ Suppose it is M. Jules,“ said I, “ why should that
frighten you? The devil is never so black as he is
painted."
“ To be sure,” observed the husband; “ M. Jules is


nrmrorns or vrnocq. 203
a good fellow; and although he nabbed me once, never
mind, I owe him no ill~will for it."
“ I know that, my regular," said I; “ besides, why
should you be angry with me? is it my fault ifyou do
a bit of moonlight 7"
“ Moonlight! Ah l" replied Court, with the accent of
a man who felt himself all at once relieved of the weight
of a mountain; “ moonlight, 0h, M. Jules, if it were so,
you know very well I should make no secret of it with
you; however, you are welcome to look about you, and
see what is to be seen."
\Vhilst he was every moment becoming more tran-
quil as to the nature of my visit, I proceeded to turn
over every thing in the apartment, in which I found a
pair of pistols ready loaded and primed; some knives;
clothes, which appeared to have been recently washed ;
with several other articles, all of which I seized.
There now only remained to put the finishing stroke
to my expedition, by arresting both husband and wife;
for, to have allowed either of them to remain at large.
would have ensured the destruction of my plan for en-
trapping Raoul, who would have learned from them
sufficient to defeat my schemes. 1 therefore conducted
them both to the station in the Place Cadet. Court,
whom I had pinioned, relapsed all of a sudden into his
original terror, and became gloomy and pensive. The
precautions taken by me rendered him uneasy, and his
wife appeared to participate in his terrible reflections.
Theirconsternation was complete, when, upon our arrival
at the guard-house, they heard me give orders that they
should be kept apart and carefully watched. I directed
that they should be plentii'ully supplied with food ; but
they were neither hungry nor thirsty.
Whenever Court was questioned on the subject, a
mournful shake of the head was the only answer re-
turned ; and eighteen hours elapsed without his opening
his lips. His eye was fixed and heavy, and his whole
countenance rigid and immovable. ‘This impassability
convinced me but too well that he 'was guilty. Under


204 MEMOIRS or \lDOCQ.
similar circumstances I have almost always observed the
two extremes, a profound silence,or an extreme volubility.
Court and his wife being in a place of safety, my
next business was to seize Raoul. I immediately re—
paired to his cabaret; he was not at home. The waiter
left in charge of the house told me that he had slept at
Paris, where he possessed a small country seat; but.
that being Sunday, he would be sure to return home
quite early.
This absence of Raoul was a mischance I had not
calculated upon, and I trembled, least on his way home
the whim might have seized him of calling upon his
friend Court. In that case he would of course have
learned his arrest; and the knowledge of that might
put him too much on his guard to enable me to lay
hold of him. I feared likewise that he might have had
a view of our expedition from the Rue Coquenard ; and
my apprehensions were redoubled when the waiter told
me that his master's country house was in the Fauxbourg
Montmartre. He had never been at it, and could not
point out the road to me, but he believed it was in the
close vicinity of the Place Cadet. Every additional
particular 1 derived from him redoubled my fears, and
led me to attribute the unusual absence of Raoul from
his business to his having got scent of my intentions
towards him.
At nine o'clock he had not returned; and the waiter,
whom I questioned as closely as I could do, without
allowing him to see into my designs, appeared all
wonder and uneasiness that his master should thus
delay his return upon so busy a day as Sunday inva-
riably was with them. Even the servant, who was
husied in preparing the breakfast I had ordered for
myself and my agents, expressed her surprise at her
master, and still more her mistress, being so much less
exact to their usual hour for appearing than she had
ever known them. “ If I only knew where to send to,"
said the poor woman, “I would certainly inquire
whether any accident can have befallen them." Al-


runmoms 0F vrnonq. 205
though fully persuaded that her fears were without
foundation, I felt as much at a loss as the whole house-
hold to guess the true reason of his non-appearance.
Twelve o'clock struck, still no tidings had reached
us, and I began really to believe that the train had
blovm up, when the waiter, who had for the last
half hour been posted sentry before the door, came
running towards me, crying out, “ Here he is, here he
comes l"
“ Who wants me ?” asked Raoul as he entered. But
scarcely had his foot crossed the threshold, than, recog-
nising me, he exclaimed, “ Bless me, M. Jules! why,
what brings you in our neighbourhood this morning ?"
He had evidently not the slightest sus icion that it was
on his account I had come, and I en eavoured to lead
him still further from guessing the true nature of my
visit. “ So, friend l" said I, “ so you are a liberal, are
you 2”
“ A liberal!"
“ Yes, even so; and you are further accused but
this is no place for conversation. Can I speak to you
alone?”
“ Certainly; step up to the room on the first floor,
and I will follow you in a minute."
I did so, after having by signs instructed my agents
to keep a strict eye over Raoul, and to take him into
custody if he discovered the least disposition to quit
the house. However, the unhappy man had no inten-
tion of escape, for in a very few minutes he joined me,
and, with a look and manner expressive of jovial con-
tent, desired I would let him into the mighty mystery
of my proceedings.
“ Well, then,” said I, “ now that we can converse
without interruption, I will frankly explain the cause of
my present visit. But tell me first, can you not partly
guess it 1'"
“ Not I, upon my honour."
“ You have already experienced great inconveniences
VOL. in. 'r


206 MEMOle or vroocq.
on account of those goguettes“ which you have per.
sisted in holding in your cabaret, spite of the formal
prohibition issued by the police against'them. Infor-
mation has been given that every Sunday there are
meetings held in your house, at which seditious toasts
and songs libelling government are permitted. Not
only is it known that you countenance the assembling
of a mass of suspicious characters, but it is understood
that this very day a more than usual number is ex-
pected to collect within these walls from twelve to
four o’clock. You see there is no blinding the police
as to your goings on. This is not all ; you are further
accused of having in your possession a vast quantity of
disloyal and immoral songs, which are so carefully con-
* In the years 1815 and 1816, there were in Paris a great
number of singing ciubs, called gogueltes. This species of
political rat-trap was at first formed under the auspices of the
police, who peopled it with their agents. There it was, that,
whilst drinking with mechanics and persons composing the
inferior class, these spies of government worked upon them in
order to involve them in false conspiracies. l have witnessed
several of these mock patriotic meetings, at which those who
pretended to the greatest share of enthusiasm were the tools
of the police, and were easily distinguished by the gross and
vulgar hatred expressed in their songs against the royal family.
These intemperate rhapsodies were the productions of the
same authors as the hymns of Saint Louis and Saint Charles,
and were paid for out of the secret fund: of the Rue de JBru-
salem. Since the time of the late Chevalier Pi'r's, M. Esmé-
hard, and M. Chaget, it has been well understood that the
bards of the Quai du Nord possess the privilege of contradic-
tor inspirations. The police has its laureates, its minstrels,
and' its troubadours; it is, as may be seen, an institution of
great gaiety and hilarity, but unfortunately not always in a.
state sufficiently harmonious to bear celebrating in verse.
Three heads were by these machinations brought to the scaf-
fold,—those of Carbouneau, Pleignier, and Tolleron ; after
which the gogueiles were closed—there was no further occa-
sion for them—suflicient blood had been shed.


uxuorns or vrnocq. 207
cealed by you, that my orders were not to appear before
you except in a disguise, that would have prevented
your recognising my person, and to defer my operations
till the gentlemen of the goguette should have opened
their meeting. I am truly concerned to be charged
with so very unpleasant a mission. Had I been ap-
prized that you were the person alluded to, I shou d
most certainly have declined the otiice ; for with you,
what would a disguise avail me ?"
Raoul smiled, “ I think, master J ules," said he, “ I
should have been much amused at seeing you attempt
to deceive me that way.”
“ Still,“ continued I, “it is better for you that I
should be employed on this business than a stranger;
you know very well that I have no ill will against you.
So take my advice, and give me up every song in your
possession; and further, to dispel the present doubts
against you, refuse admission to every person whose
presence here might, in the most trifling degree, com-
promise your safety."
“ Upon my word," said Raoul, “ I had no notion
before how deep a politician you were.”
“ Why, as to that, friend," cried I, “ a little of every
thing is a useful trade, and I for one, find that if I de-
sire to get on in this world, I must be able to ride on
any saddle.”
“ Well,” replied Raoul, “ you can't help it, Master
Jules, but as true as my name is Clair Raoul, I swear
to you that I am wrongly accused. People have surely
gone mad ! I, who think of nothing but just how
to earn a bit of honest bread! What a world is
this! Nothing but envy and spite against those who
seem likely to meet with any thing like success l—how-
ever, M. Jules, if you doubt my word, you can easily
judge for yourself—just make up your mind to stay
here with your people; observe us well throughout the
day, and form your own opinion of our principles and
loyalty.”
“ Agreed,” said I, “ but hark ye, friend Raoul, no
r 2 '


208 unmoms or vrnocq.
gammon if you please; you are just the chap to destroy
all these objectionable songs, and nothing would be
easier than for you to give a hint to your corn any, that
would efi'ectually silence the goguette singers rorn com-
mitting themselves in my hearing.”
“ Who do you take me for, sir 1'" exclaimed Raoul
with quickness. “ I am incapable of such conduct; if
I promise you to let every thing proceed as if you were
not present, nothing could induce me to deviate from
it; you can either believe me or not, at your pleasure,
but to convince you of my honour in the business, you
shall remain by my side the whole of the day ; I pledge
myself not to breathe one word respecting you to a
living soul, not even to my wife when she comes home,
so that you may be very sure;—however, you will, I
hope, see no objection to my attending to my customers
as usual.“
“ Assuredly not; let every thing go on as usual, and
tr lull all suspicion I don’t care if I lend you a helping
hand.”
“ Your offer is too agreeable to be refused,” replied
Raoul; “ so if you please, M. Jules, we will proceed to
work at once.“ ,
“ Come on then," said I, and we descended the
stairs together. Raoul prepared his huge carving-knife,
and, with my sleeves tucked u , and a napkin fastened
before me, I aided him in carving the veal, which, with
the accompaniment of sorrel sauce, was destined for
the banquet of the Luculluses of the cabaret. From
the veal we roceeded to the mutton; we set out some
dozens of cliops in the most tempting manner, and
trimmed up the leg, that delicate morsel so generally
relished and longed for. I next assisted in preparing
some turkeys for the spit, after which we cleared away
the litter, and repaired to the wine cellar, where I made
myself equally useful, by helping my companion to ma-
nufacture genuine wine at six sols the flask.
During this operation I was quite alone with Raoul,
who passed me off to every one as his most intimate


mnrorns or VIDOCQ. 209
friend. I stuck as close to him as his very shadow, and
he himself appeared as unable to dispense with me as
with his large carving knife. I must confess that se-
veral times 1 trembled lest he should suspect the mo-
tive of my watching him so closely; had he done so,
he would certainly have murdered me, and I must have
perished beneath his violence, without any human
creature being able to assist me; happily he saw in me
only a familiar of the political inquisition, and as to the
seditious imputations urged against him, he was per-
fectly at his ease.
Up to four o’clock I continued my assistance as se-
cond in office, when the commissary of police, (now
head of the second division,) whom I had informed of
the affair, arrived. I was on the ground floor, when I
perceived him at a distance, and hastening to him, I
begged he would not make his appearance for a few
minutes. I then returned to Raoul, and affecting to be
exceedingly angry, “ The devil take them l” cried I,
“the police have just sent to me to say that our bu-
siness lies at your house in Paris, and that we must
remove thither instantly."
“ Oh, if that be all,” said Raoul, “ let us go there at
once."
“ Yes," replied I, “ and when we are there we shall
be ordered back again here; faith, they do not stand
very nice as to the trouble they give us with the con-
tradictory orders ! if I were in your place, since we are
in your house, I would send to request the commissary
of police to allow your premises to be searched; it would
be a convincing argument that you were wrongly ac-
cused."
Raoul applauded this advice as most excellent, did
as I recommended, and having obtained the commis-
sary‘s consent, the strictest search took place, without,
however, its producing anything to criminate him.
“ Well," cried he, (when the whole was concluded,)
with that tone of exultation which might have sprung
from a man of conscious integrity; “ Well, gentlemen,


2lt' MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ
hope you are now satisfied. Upon my word, I do not
think myself at all well used to be suspected and
searched in this manner. Why you could not have
done more had I committed murder l"
The assurance with which the latter part of the sen-
tence was pronounced really startled me, and for a mo-
ment I repented of having ever suspected him, but the
many reasons I had for concluding him guilty quickly
effaced my regret. Still it was frightful to consider that a
robber and murderer like himself, whose hands were yet
reeking with the blood of his victim, could, without a
shudder, utter words which thus recalled his guilt.
Raoul was calm and almost triumphant in his manner ;
and when we were seated in the hackney-coach which
was to transport as to Paris, an indifferent s ectator
might have supposed he was proceeding to a estival;
he rubbed his hands, and said with all the glee imagi-
nable, “ I am thinking how my wife will be astonished
at seeing me return to 'her in such good company.”
It happened to be his wife who opened the door; at
the sight of us her countenance underwent not the
slightest alteration; she presented us with seats, but as
we had but little time to lose, the commissary and my-
self immediately set to work to perform our task of'
examining the house. Raoul did not appear desirous
of quitting us for a moment, but guided us through our
search with the utmost complaisance.
In order to give a colouring to the story I had first
told him, we affected the greatest solicitude respecting
his papers; he gave me the key‘ of his escritoire. I
seized upon a bundle of papers, and the first upon
which I cast my eyes was a direction, part of which
had been torn off. Instantly the shape of the torn
fragment, on which was written the address found on
the place of murder, and affixed by the magistrates
of Corbeil to their pracés verbal, occurred to my ie-
collection. The piece now before me had evidently
formed part of it. The commissary to whom I com-
municated my opinion coincided with me in it. Raoul


MEMOIRS or vrnoco. 211
had at first seen us take up the note and examine it,
with perfect indifl‘erence : possibly, he might not him-
self recollect, just at that moment, its fatal signification ;
but as he observed our scrutiny more and more directed
to it, his memory evidently refreshed him with its full
force: his countenance changed in an instant; the
muscles of his face contracted ; a ghastly paleness
came over him; and springing towards a drawer in
which were his loaded pistols, he endeavoured to seize
them ; when,by an equally rapid movement, my agents
and myself threw ourselves upon him, and soon de-
prived him of all power of resistance.
It was nearly midnight when Raoul and his wife
were conducted to the prefecture ;—Court arrived there
a quarter of an hour afterwards. The two accomplices
were separately confined. Up to this period there had
been nothing but presumptive evidence against them ;
I therefore undertook to obtain their own confession
whilst they remained in their first stupor. It was on
Court that I first employed my eloquence. I worked
him, as it is called, in every possible way. I used
every species of argument to convince him that it was
to his own interest to make a full avowal.
“ Take my advice," said I to him, “ declare the truth of
the matter; why should your persist in endeavouring to
conceal what is known to every one? you will find, by
the very first question put to you at your examination,
that your judges are much better informed than you
think fen—death has not sealed the lips of all the per-
sons you have attacked. Many of those you believed
your victims will produce overwhelming proofs against
you ; you may be silent if you please, but your silence
will not prevent your condemnation ; public execution
is not all you expose yourself to; think of the punish-
ments and severity with which your obstinacy will be
visited ; justly irritated against you, the magistrates
will show you no mercy up to the hour of your execu~
tion ; you will be watched, tormented, worse even than
by the tortures of a slow consuming fire: ifyou persist in


212 MEMOHIS or vroocq.
your obstinate refusal to make a full confession, your
rison will be a perfect hell to you. On the contrary,
y avowing your past iniquities, expressing sorrow and
contrition for them, and meeting your fate with resig-
nation, (since you cannot hope to escape from it,) you
will at least have a chance 0 exciting the pity of man-
kind, and the humane consideration of those appointed
to try you."
I had carefully foreborne mentioning to Court of
what murder he was accused ; fully impressed with the
idea of his having been accessary to more than one, I
avoided s ecifying that of which he then stood charged.
I hoped that, by using only vague words, and refraining
from every precise detail, I might be enabled to draw
him on to the confession of other crimes besides the one
for which he was then in custody. Court reflected for
a moment—
" Well, then,” said he, “ since you advise it, I will
acknowledge that it was I who murdered the travelling
poulterer.—-Why, his soul must have stuck faster to
is body than I guessed it could—poor devil ! and did
he really come back to life after such a dressing as I
gave him? I’ll tell you, M. Jules, how the thing hap-
pened, and Iwish I may die ifI tell a lie about it :-——A
number of Normans were returning home, after having
sold their wares at Paris. I fancied they must be
loaded with money, and in consequence lay in wait for
them. I stopped the two first who came by, but found
little or nothing upon them. I was at that time in the
most extreme necessity : want drove me on to the
deed, for my wife was destitute of every thing, and the
thoughts of her wretched state wrung my heart. At
last, whilst I was giving myself up to despair, I heard
the noise of wheels: I hastened to meet it; it was a
poulterer’s cart ; the poor wretch was half asleep when
called to him to deliver up his purse. He emptied
his pockets. I felt in them myself, but his whole pos-
sessions were 80 francs !—80 francs ! what was that
to me who was in debt to every one? I owed two


memoms or VIDOCQ. 2l3
quarters’ rent, and my landlord was hourly threatening
to turn us out of doors. To heighten my misery,
I was donned by other creditors equally merciless.
What was I to do with this paltry supply of 80 francs?
Rage took possession of me. I seized my istols, and,
without one moment's reflection, discharge them both
at my gentleman’s heart. A fortnight afterwards I
learned that he still lived ! you may imagine, therefore,
that my present situation does not surprise me; for,
since the moment I have been describing to you, I
have never enjoyed one hour’s peace, in the fear of his
paying me ofi‘ sooner or later.”
“ Your fears were well founded,” said I, “ but this
unfortunate dealer in poultry is not your only victim ;
what do you ex ect from the butcher whom you pierced
through and t rough with your knife, after having
carried off his purse?”
“ Oh, as to that,“ exclaimed the villain, “ may God
receive his soul! I will answer for it, that if he wrt-
nesses against me, it can only be at the last judg-
ment.”
“ You are mistaken, the butcher did not die of his
wounds, any more than the former victim you were
speaking of."
“ Ah ! so much the better,“ cried Court.
“ No, he lives; and I must warn you that he has
pointed out both you and your accomplices, in a man-
ner too distinct to admit of any mistake.”
Court endeavoured to persist in affirming that he
had no accomplices; but he became weary of his own
falsehood, and at length admitted that Clair Raoul had
participated in the crime for which he was accused. I
urged him (but in vain) to name others as well: he
maintained the same story, and I was compelled to
content myself with what I had already drawn from
him; however, in the fear of his retracting, I sum-
moned the commissary, in whose presence Court re-
peated, and even enlarged upon, what he had previously
told me.


214 memoras or vrnocq.
To have brought Court to an acknowledgment of
his crime, and to obtain from him a written declaration
of it, was no doubt an important point gained ; but a
more difficult battle remained to e fought ere Raoul
could be persuaded to follow his example. To effect
this, I stole softly to the room in which he was con-
fined. He was sleeping; and, stepping cautiously in
the fear of awaking him, I placed myself beside him,
and whispered gently in his ear, in the hope of leading
him, as under the influence of a dream, to answer the
questions thus put to him. Without raising the low
tone in which I had first addressed him, I interrogated
him as to the particulars of the murder. Some unin-
telligible words esca ed him, but it was impossible to
make any sense of t em. This scene lasted for nearly
a quarter of an hour, when, at my asking him “ What
became of the knife with which you murdered your
Victim ?" he gave a sudden start, uttered some in-
articulate sounds, and, flinging himself from the bed on
which he was lying, opened his wild and glaring eyes
full upon me, as if he dreaded the apparition of some
horrid vision.
From the terror and astonishment with which he
continued to regard me, even after he had recognised
my person, it might easily be perceived that he dreaded
my having been the witness to his late severe internal
truggle, and I could readily see in his eyes the eager-
ness with which he sought to divine how far his restless
guilty conscience had betrayed him during his unquiet
slumbers. A cold perspiration covered his face, he
was deathly pale, and whilst he endeavoured to force a
smile, his teeth chattered and ground together in spite
of him; he presented an exact representation of a
damned spirit in all the tortures of an agonizing con-
science—a second Orestes pursued by the furies. Ere
the last vapours of his uneasy dreams had passed away,
I wished to turn the circumstance to account; it was
not the first time Ihad called the night-mare to my
aid. ‘


manoms or VIDOCQ. 215
" You appear," said I to Raoul, “ to have had a.
frightful dream ; you have been talking a great deal,
and seemed to be in great pain: I could not bear to
see you suffer so much, and woke you to dispel the
anguish and remorse to which you seemed a prey. Do
not feel displeased at this language—it is in vain to
dissimulate further; the confessions of your friend,
Court, have informed us of every thing—justice is in
full possession of every circumstance relative to the
crime whereof you are accused. Do not seek to palliate
your participation in it,—the evidence of your accom-
plice cannot be invalidated by any thing you can say;
if you seek to save yourself by a system of denial, the
voice of your unhappy associate will confound you in
the presence of your judges; and if that be not suffi-
cient, the butcher whom you murdered near Milly will
appear as your accuser."
At these words I steadily examined the countenance
of Raoul ; a slight discomposure was observable in his
features, but it soon passed away, and recovering him-
self, he replied with firmness :—
“ M. Jules, you are trying to entrap me ; you only
throw away your time ; you are deep and cunning, but
I know my own innocence. As to what you say of
Court, you will not persuade me that he is guilty; still
less do I believe that he can have implicated my name,
when there exists not the slightest appearance of pro-
bability of his doing so.”
I again declared to Raoul that it was useless for him
to seek to conceal the truth from me—“ \Vell, then,”
said I, “ if nothing else will do, you shall be confronted
with your friend ; we shall then see whether you will
venture to persist in denying the facts he has sworn to."
“ Let him come," cried Raoul, “ I do not ask for any
thing better ;.I am confident that Court is incapable of
a bad or disbonourable action.—Why should he accuse
himself of a crime he has not committed, and implicate
me in it for mere wantonness'! unless indeed he has lost
his senses, which is not very likely.--Hark ye, M.


2l6 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
Jules ; I am so certain of what I assert, that if he says
he committed this murder, and that I had a share in it,
I consent to pass for the greatest scoundrel that ever
walked the earth.—I will acknowledge, as true, what-
ever he may say; and, I further engage, either to clear
my innocence through his means, or to ascend the
same scaffold with him.—I do not dread the guillotine,
whether its blow descend for this or any other offence ;
if Court confirms what you have said, be it so—all is
over—the veil is raised, and two heads will fall at
once."
I quitted him in these dispositions, and went to pro-
pose the interview to his comrade : this latter, however,
refused, declaring that, after the confession he had
made, he had not the courage to encounter Raoul.—
“ Since I have regularly signed and attested my de-
position," said he, “ let it be read to him, it will suf-
fice to convince him; besides, he will recognise my
writing."
This repugnance. which I was far from expecting,
vexed me so much the more, as I have frequently known
the thoughts of a man arraigned of crime to change in
an instant from one opinion to the opposite extreme.
I exerted all my influence to overcome Court’s objec-
tions, and at length succeeded in deciding him to act
as I wished. After a trifling delay, the two friends
found themselves in each other’s presence: they em-
braced ; and the ingenuity of Court suggested to him a
ruse by which to palliate his having involved his co-
adjutor in his acknowledgment of guilt; and this,
without having originated in my advice, materially as-
sisted my plans :—“ Friend Raoul," cried Court, “ I
am informed you have followed my example, and made
a full confession of our unfortunate crime. It was the
very best thing we could either of us do; for, as M.
Jules observes, there are too many convincing proofs
against us, to make further denial of any avail.”
The person to whom these words were addressed
stood for an instant as if petrified with astonishment;


Manorns or VIDOCQ. 217
but, quickly gathering his spirits,—“ Faith, M. J ules l”
exclaimed he, “ you have managed well——we are both
completely drawn! Now, then, as I am a man of my
word, I will keep that I gave you, by concealing no_
thing ;“ and immediately he began a recital which fully
confirmed that of his associate. These new revelations
having received the usual forms of law, I remained in
conversation with the two assassins, who bore their part
init with inexhaustible mirth and hilarity, the general ef-
fect of confession with the greatest criminals. I supped
with them, and although they ate heartily they drank
very moderately. Their countenances had resumed
their usual calmness, and no vestige was perceptible of
the ‘rate catastrophe; they looked upon it as a settled
thing, that by their confession they had undertaken to
pay their debt to ofiended justice.
After supper I informed them that we should set
out in the night for Corbeil. “ In that case,” said
Raoul, “ it is not worth while going to bed ;" and he
begged of me to procure him a pack of cards. When
the vehicle which was to convey us was ready, they
were as deeply engaged with their game of piquet, as
any two peaceful citizens of Paris could have been.
They ascended the carriage without appearing to
suffer the least emotion at so doing, and we had scarcely
reached the Barricre d’Italie, when they were happily
asleep and snoring; nor had they aroused themselves,
when, at eight o'clock in the morning, we entered
Corbeil.
VOL. III. II


2l8 MEMOIRS or vinocq.
CHAPTER XLIII.
Arrival at Corbeil—Popnlnr legends—A crowd—J'he slip—Good
company—Poulailler and Captain Picard—A disgust or grandeurh-
The dealer in turkeys—General Beaufort—Public 'nion of myself
—Extreme terror of a lous Bféch—Alllisinl and t eir victim—M
finance—Another lupper— lace the knives—Important discoveries
c. c.
Tar: noise of our arrival was quickly spread abroad,
and the inhabitants flocked to have a view of the as-
sassins of the butcher, whose story had excited so much
commiseration. I was equally an object of curiosity
to them, and was pleased with the lpresent opportunity
of learning the opinion entertaine of me at the dis-
tance of six leagues from Paris. I hastened to mingle
in the crowd assembled before the prison gates. from
whence I could easily overhear the most amusing ob-
servations: “ There he is, that is he,” exclaimed the
spectators, raising themselves on tip toe every time the
wicket opened to allow ingress or egress to any of my
agents.
“ Look look, do you see him 2“ said one of them,
“that little hop 0’ my thumb there, scarcely five feet
high." '
“ Stufi‘ ! a shrimp like that! I could put fifty such in
my pocket.“
“ Shrimp as you call him, he is more than a match
for you ; he is a first-rate boxer, and has asort of a back
throw that would astonish you.”
“ All fudge, I dare say; do you suppose he is the
only one that knows a good thing ?"
“ No no !" bawled out a second spectator, “ this is
he, this tall slender fellow with the red hair."
“ What a lath i” cried out the next bystander, “ why
with one hand in my pocket I could double him in two.”
“ You could ?“
" Yes, I could I"


nations or vioocQ. 219
“ And do you fancy that he would allow you to lay
your fingers upon him? No, no! you have mistaken
your man ;—he comes sometimes as if meaning to speak
amicably to one, and just the moment you least expect
it comes a dig in the bread basket, or, as he may happen
to prefer, apelt of the conk, which will make you see
fifty candles at once."
“The gentleman who spoke last is perfectly right,"
said an old citizen, eyeing me through his spectacles;
“ this Vidocq is a most extraordinary character; I have
been told that when he wishes to seize a man, he has a
certain blow, which once aimed never fails to deprive
the person against whom it is directed of all power of
resistance.”
“ And I have been told,“ said a carman, joining in
the conversation, “ that he never goes without large l‘luull
m the soles of his shoes, and whilst he is giving you a
punch of the head, he breaks your shins with a kick a
thousand times heavier than any horse."
“ Mind where you are walking, you great clod-
hopper,“ exclaimed a young girl, whose corns the clumsy
cannan had been most unceremoniously stamping on.
“ Just a little treat for you, my pretty one," replied
the rustic; “ Never mind trifles like that, you are
not quite killed. I dare say if Vidocq were to give
~ you a gentle taste of the heel of his boot upon your fa-
vourite toe you might indeed call out.”
“ Indeed, I should like to see him dare to do so.“
“ Ah! he would spoil your dancing, I can promise
you—but who is that coming from the prison? look."
At this instant I addressed the carman, “ I hope,"
said I, “ that the sparkling eyes of my pretty neighbour
here would ensure her safety from Vidocq, wicked as
he may be.”
“ Yes, yes l" rejoined the carman, “ I believe he is
vastly civil to the women. I have been told that he is
a merry fellow enough with them, and bears an excellent
reputation. Although many a pretty girl has lost hers
through the honour of his good company.” These
1: 2


220 memoms or vrnocq.
words were accompanied by a loud horse-laugh, in whic
the rest of the company joined. \
" What is the matter there 'I" cried some who were not
sufficiently nigh the scene of action to understand the
cause of the burst of voices which assailed their ears.
“ Hats off." >
“ Do you observe that man in the wig ’2”
“ Are those the murderers T“
“ There he is, there he is l”
“ Who? who ?”
“ Do not crowd so dreadfully.“
“ Take your hands off, you blackguard."
“ Knock him down l down with him l"
“ How wrong of females to risk their lives by coming
to a scene like this.“
“ Here, climb up on my shoulder."
“ Down there, you are not made of glass.”
“ Are they all mad to make such a noise T'
“ Oh, it is nobody after all, only a guardsman l”
“ Are any of the spies amongst them T‘
“ Spies? Yes, four I have been told."
By the time these different exclamations were ended,
the flux and reflux of the multitude had borne me away
to the midst of a fresh group, where a dozen gossips
were busily conversing of me in the following manner :—
Frnsr GOSSIP. (This speaker appeared, by his silvery
locks, of venerable age.) “ Yes, sir, he was condemned
to the galleys for a hundred and one years—commuted
from sentence of death.” .
Seconn oossrP. “A hundred and one years! bless
me, why that is more than an age !"
AN OLD WOMAN. “ The lord be good unto me, what
is that you favoured me by saying? A hundred and one
years ! indeed, as the other gentleman observed, that
is rather more than a day l”
Tum) oossnr. “ No, no; something more than a
day indeed ; upon my credit, a tolerably long lease of it.“
Fovnru oossrr. “ And so he had committed murder,
had he 1”


memoms or vtnocq. 221
Film oossrr. “ Why did not you know that?
bless you, he is a villain loaded with every sort of
crime, he has been guilty of every enormity by turns,
each of which has merited the guillotine; but he is a
deep rascal, and has managed to keep his head on his
shoulders to the surprise of every one.’
ANOTHER- oossrr. (In what order his speech was
made I do not now remember, I recollect onl that he
was dressed in black, and from the style of his dress
and hair I concluded him to be one of the church-
wardens'of the parish).
Tun FLEUR on us. “ No, better still ! I am informed
by my friend the commissary, that this Vidocq always
accustoms himself to wear a ring round his leg—is it
not strange 1'”
Mrseu. “ Come, do not seek to gammon us with
your stories of rings, do you suppose we could not per-
ceive it, if it were worn as you say.”
Tar: 00551? IN BLACK. (Gravely.) “ No, sir, you
could not see it; in the first place, you are not to
imagine it an iron ring of four or five pounds weight.
No, it is a golden ring, as light as possible, and nearly
imperceptible. Ah! indeed, if like me he were short
, knee breeches, you would soon discover it, but those
trowsers hide every thing.—Trowsers indeed ! an absurd
fashion. We may thank the revolution for that intro-
duction as well as for cropped heads, hair [1 la Titus as
they term it, which no longer leave it possible to discover
a gentleman from one who has tugged at the galleys. I
only ask you, gentlemen, whether if this Vidocq were to
introduce himself amongst you, you would feel par-
ticularly flattered by his company?”
“ Pray," asked the old woman who had before spoken,
“ is it true that he was publicly branded ?" '
“ Certainly, madam; that too with a red hot iron
on both shoulders, I will answer for it that if he were
stripped, you would read the mark in all its brightness.
I ask you once more, my friends, what would you say
were this fellow to presume to show himself here T"
U 3


222 MEMOIRS or vrnocQ.
A Cunvsuen or SAINT Lows. “ I can't say I
should particularly desire the honour of his company';
what think you, M. de la Potoniere 1'”
M. or: LA Pororuuuz. “ Upon the word of a gentle-
man, my only wish would be to rid myself of it as soon
as possible. A galley-slave, and, what is still worse, a
spy of the police! If he only employed himself in
arresting villains similar to those he has brought to our
town to-day, he would be earning honourable bread;
but do you know on what condition he was removed
from the Hague? To obtain his liberty he has engaged
to deliver up tojustice a hundred individuals a month ;
whether guilty or innocent matters little to him; the
number must be made up, or he would speedily be re-
conducted from whence he came. On the other hand,
should he exceed his engagement, he receives a pre_
minm for each one above the required quantity. Is
this the way these things are managed in England, Sir
Wilson ?”
Sm Wnsos." “No, the British government has not
yet adepted a similar commutation of punishment. 1
do not know this M. Vidocq; but in my opinion, how-
ever great a villain he may be, he is still preferable to
those who merely suspend the sword of justice over his
head, that it may fall with redoubled violence directly
he finds it impossible to fulfil his disgraceful bargain.
O'Meara, who is no greater friend than myself to our
ministry, will attest that it has not yet reached this
point of degradation. You are silent, doctor; why
don't you speak 1"
Dacron O‘MEARA. “ They would only have had to
select from amongst the heroes of Tyburn and Botany
Bay fit agents to undertake to preserve London in
safety; but when a thief is set to catch a thief, who
can answer for it that they may not join trades? and
then what becomes of your system ?"
" Most probably M. Vidocq means Sir Robert Wilson.—
Tessa.


MEMOIRS or vrnocQ. 2'23
Tan Cusvauen ST. LOUIS. “ A very just observa-
tion. It is, indeed, an inconceivable thing why the
police have never employed any but men of blemished
character. Surely a suflicient number of honest ones
might be found !"
MYSELF. “ Perhaps you, sir, would not object to fill
the post now occupied by Vidocq l"
Tut-1 CHEVALIER. “I, sir! God preserve me from
such an employment.”
MYSELF. “ Then, my good sir, why propose impos-
sibilities 2“
SIR WILSON. “ And impossibilities they will remain,
till the police of France, which is now nothing but a
gloomy institution, a series of continual devices and
plots, shall have ceased to encourage spies, and shall
ave adopted other means than those at present em-
ploy ed to preserve public order and general satety."
AN ENGLISH LADY (surrounded by a host of half-pay
officers, who appeared most anxious to pay their court
to her, and who, I believe, was Lady Owensonf") “ Ah,
general, you know few people understand these things
as well as you do.”
Our; or THE Osrrczns. “ See! yonder is General
Beaufort, with the Picard family l"
LADY Ownnson. “ Good day to you, general. I
beg to condole with you upon the affair of your snuff-
box, of which I have just heard the history. We have
an old proverb in our language which signifies, ‘ That
it is wiser to keep ourselves awake over our cups, than
to expose oneself to a long nap in the nearest ditch l‘ “
THE GENERAL (with bitterness.) “ That proverb
might have been taught with profit to the unfortunate
butcher every person seems talking so much about.”
LADY Owenson. “And not have come amiss to you
either, general; but, joking apart, why do you not
apply to Vidocq to recover your snuff-box for you T"
" Possibly meant for Lady Morgan, formerly Miss Owen-
son—Truss.


224 MEthle or VIDOCQ.
Tn: GENERAL. “ 'l‘o Vidocq! a thief! a scamp! a
beggarly scoundrel l If I only fancied I had ever
breathed the same air with him, I should hang myself
the moment I discovered it. Me apply to Vidocq
CAPTAIN PICARD. “ And why not, if he could pro-
cure the restitution of your lost property 7"
Tu: GENERAL (with atone of assumed consequence.)
" That is exactly like your advice. You l—but really,
friend Picard, you have a monstroust odd way of heat-
ing about the bush."
CAPTAIN PICARD. “ General, I am at a loss to com-
prehend your meaning."
Tar. GENERAL. “ Why, I mean that you have such
a roundabout way of going to work, 'tislike your telling
a Story. There is no getting you to proceed in a
straight line. Now in that account you have begun at
least fifty times of your father having arrested the fa-
mous Poulailler "
LADY Ownusoa'. “ The famous Poulaillerl Oh i
M. Picard, tell us all about it ; do, there is a dear
entertaining man. The famous Poulailler! pray begin ;
I am all curiosity to hear your amusing account of it."
M. PICARD- “ At your desire, madam, certainly;
although ’tis an old story, and I fear you will find it
somewhat too lengthy for a lady‘s patience.”
LADY Owensou. “ Nay, M. Picard, I entreat the fa-
vour of your relating it."
M. PICARD. “ Well then, madam, you must first
understand that this Poulailler was the most adroit
robber that had appeared since the time of Cartouche.
I should never have finished were I to relate only the
fourth part of what I have heard my mother re eat con-
cerning him; for though my parent is nearly our-score
years of age, she has a famous memory."
Tm: GENERAL. “ Come, come, captain, don't lose
the thread of your discourse already.”
LADY Owrmsou. “ Now pray, general, do not inter-
rupt us. Go on, M. Picard‘—-I am all attention.”
M. PIOARD. “ To make the story as brief as possible,


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 225
I willjust proceed to inform you that, at the time in
which my story happened, the court was at Fontaine-
bleau, celebrating, with more than usual splendour, a
royal marriage which had just taken place. My father,
who was a police officer, received one night an ex-
press, announcing to him that one night, at the close
of a ball, several individuals, dressed as noblemen,
had disappeared, carrying with them the greater part of
the diamond ornaments belonging to the ladies who had
figured in the quadrilles. These thefts amounted to a
very considerable sum; they had been effected with so
much audacity, subtilty, and precision, that it was
unanimously decided none but the bold and daring
Poulailler could have been the author of them. He
had been seen at the head of six men, superbly equipped,
taking the road to Paris. These were presumed to
have been the thieves, and that they would pass on to
Essonne. My father lost no time in repairing thither,
and there he learnt that the whole cavalcade had alighted
at the sign of the Grand Cerf, that deserted house now
known by the name of the Farm. \Vhen my father
reached the auberge I have been speaking of, they had
retired to bed, leaving their fine horses carefully locked
in the stable. My father determined, as a first step, to
seize the horses, which he found ready saddled and
bridled. They were shod the reverse way, so as to lead
any person pursuing them into the idea of their having
gone by a directly opposite road to that they had in
reality taken.”
LADY ()wnnsou. “ What a deep trickl These rob-
bers appear to have been a match for even your re-
spected father, M. Picard.”
M. PICARD. "' My father caused the girths to be cut,
and then ascended to the chamber of Poulailler; but
this latter, warned by one of his spies, had already
flown, and the rest of the band were dispersed about
the country: nor could he at present spare the neces-
sary time for their pursuit. My father hastened to the
Cour de France, where he learnt that a smart gentle_


226 nanoms or vrnocq.
man, dressed in a coat covered with gold, and having
fine waving lumes in his hat, had been seen to enter a
little roadsi e public-house. Doubtlessly this was
Poulailler, at least so thought my father; when, upon
entering the cottage, he perceived the object of his
search. ‘ In the king‘s name, I arrest you,‘ exclaimed
my father. ‘Ah, my good sir,‘ replied his prisoner,
‘ for mercy's sake do not arrest me; I am not the per.
son you are in search of, but a poor devil going to Paris
with a flock of turkeys. On my road I met a gentle-
man, who bought them of me, and exchanged his coat
for mine. I did not lose by the bargain, without
reckoning the fifteen bright Louis d'ors he paid me for
my turkeys. Pray, sir, if you are looking for him, do
not harm him, for he is a charming gentleman; he
spoke so gently and scholar-like about his being tired
of livin with the great, and how he meant to have a
taste 0? rural simplicity, 1 think he called it. If you
should meet him on the road, you would fancy he had
been a. turkey-driver all his life; he dahs among them
with his long pole. My conscience! the poor birds
have never had so strict a master. Little fear, I think,
of their being lost on the way for want of being looked
after.’ My father had no sooner received these parti-
culars, than he galloped after the pretended turkey-
merchant, whom he quickly overtook. Poulailler,
finding himself discovered, endeavoured to fly ; but my
father was. more than his equal in speed. The robber
then fired off a brace of pistols; but my father, not in
the least intimidated, leaped from his horse, seized
Poulailler by the throat, threw him on the ground, and
succeeded in fastening his hands behind him. I can
assure you that it required no small strength, as well as
courage, to effect all this, for Poulailler was a most
powerful man; however, in the present instance he
had met with his match.”
GENERAL BEAUFORT. “ Well, Captain Picard, have
you finished ? Your way of telling a story is just what
I have heard called spinning a long yarn."


MEMOLRS or vroocq. 227
MYSELF, (addressing General Beaufort.) “ Genera , I
ask your pardon; but the more I look at you, the more
I feel assured that I have had the honour of knowing
you. Allow me to inquire whether you did not com-
mand the gendarmes at Mons ?"
THE GENERAL. “Yes, friend, in 1793. We were with
Dumouriez and the then duke of Orleans.”
MYSELF. “ There it was then, general, that I had
the honour to serve under you.”
Tun Gertemr. (extending his hand to me with en-
thusiasm.) " Ah, my noble comrade, come to my arms.
You must positively eat your dinner with me. Gentle-
men, I beg to present to you one of my old soldiers ; he
is tolerably strong built, is he not? Ah, I had man
fine fellows under me; but never mind. I say, My
Picard, I think my friend here could have arrested even
your gigantic M. Poulailier."
Whilst the worthy general was pressing my hands in
his, and reiterating his request that I should dine with
him, a gendarme, who had been seeking me amongst
the spectators, approached me, and, gently touching
my shoulder, said, “ M. Vidocq, the king‘s solicitor has
been inquiring for you, and wishes to see you imme-
diately." It was really ludicrous to see how every
countenance changed at these words. “ What! can it
be Vidocq 1'" exclaimed my late audience, with length-
ened faces. “ Vidocq! Vidocq!“ shouted out others,
and immediately all was fighting, struggling, and con-
fusion, to endeavour to force a passage for the eager
looks of those who were not sufficiently near to gratify
their eye-sight with a view of the so much coveted
monster, for such they certainly expected to find me.
Some even climbed on the shoulders of their neighbours,
to satisfy themselves as to whether I really was a hu-
man creature or not; of this I had convincing proofs by
the following flying remarks which reached my ears :—
“ Bless me! light complexion! I fancied him quite
dark. I heard he was ill-looking. I see nothing so


228 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
very ugly about him. What a strange manner of walk-
ing he has l" '
These and similar observations were made by the
crowd, whose sole interest now seemed centered in not-
ing down every particular relative to my personal ap-
earance. So great was the concourse of gazers, that
Y had much difficulty in forcing my way along to the
procureur. This magistrate wished me to conduct the
accused persons before the interrogating judge. Court,
whom I first led thither, appeared intimidated at finding
himself in the presence of so many persons, I exhorted
him to keep up his courage, and to confirm his con-
fessions. This he did without any great difficulty, as
far as related to the assassination of the butcher; but
when questioned on the subject of the poulterer he
retracted all his previous declarations, and it was im-
possible to lead him to confess that he had had any
other accomplices than Raoul. This latter when intro-
duced into the chamber, unhesitatingly confirmed every
fact mentioned in the proce‘r verbal, which had been
drawn up after his arrest. He related in full detail,
and with the most imperturbable sang froid, all that had
passed between the unfortunate Fontaine and his mur-
derers, up to the moment of his striking the first blow
at his victim.
“ The man,” said he, “ was only stunned by the two
blows he received from a stick ; when I saw that they
had not sufficed to bring him to the ground, I drew
near as if to support him, holding in my hand the knife
whic is lying upon that table ;”' pronouncing these
words, he sprang towards the desk, abruptly seized the
instrument of his crime, made two steps backwards, and
rolling his eyes, sparkling with fury, he assumed a me-
nacing attitude. This movement, which was wholly
unexpected, filled with terror all who were present;
the sous préfet was nearly fainting, and I myself under-
went some alarm. Nevertheless, I felt the necessity of
concealing from Raoul the effect he had produced, and


nrnsroms or vrnorq. 229
I even sought to attribute his violcnt gestures to a gocd
motive. “ Gentlemen !" cried I, smiling, “ what is it
you fear? Raoul is incapable of acting like a coward,
and abusing the confidence reposed in him; he merely
took up the knife, the better to explain his share in the
business.“ “ Thanks, M. Jules l“ cried be, delighted
with my explanation, and quietly laying down the knife
on the table, he added, “I only wished to show you
how I made use of it.”
To complete the preliminaries it only remained to
confront the accused with Fontaine; the surgeon was
applied to, to ascertain whether the sick man was suffi-
ciently recovered to bear so trying a scene, and he
having replied in the affirmative, Court and Raoul
were taken to the hospital. Introduced into the apart-
ment Occupied by the butcher, their eyes eagerly sought
their victim. Fontaine with his head and face nearly
covered with bandages, and his whole person wrapped
in linen cloths, was indeed scarcely to be recognised;
but beside him were displayed the clothes and shirt
worn by him on the night he was so cruelly assaulu d.
“ Ah ! poor Fontaine l” cried Court, falling on his
knees at the foot of the bed, decorated by these bloody
trophies ; “ forgive the miserable wretches who have re-
duced you to this condition; that you still survive is a
striking interposition of Providence, who has been
pleased to preserve you the better to punish us as our
crimes deserve." .
Whilst he was expressing himself thus, Raoul, who
had likewise knelt down, preserved a deep silence, and
appeared plunged in the deepest afiliction.
“ Stand up, both of you, and look the sick man in
the face ;" said the judge who accompanied them. They
rose u
“ Take those murderers from my sight l" shrieked
Fontaine, “ their countenances and voice are but too fa-
miliar to me.“
1 This recognition, and the manner of the culprits, was
VOL. III. x


230 MEMOIRB or vrnocq.
more than sufficient to establish the fact of Court and
Raoul having been the actors in this frightful tragedy ;
but, I was firmly persuaded that they had other crimes
besides this, With which to reproach themselves, and
that, in order to commit them, they must have been
more than two in number. This was a secret of the
greatest importance. Idetermined to exert myself to
the utmost to come at the truth ; and not to quit them
till I induced them to unload their consciences by a full
confession of their past. misdeeds. On our return to
the prison after this meeting, I caused supper to be
served for the accused and myself. The porter in-
quired whether he should place knives on the table.
“ Yes, yes l" cried I, “ set knives to each gentleman,
by all means.”
My two guests eat their meals with as great an ap-
pearance of appetite, as though they had been the most
honest men breathing. When they had drunk a few
glasses of wine,I dexterously brought back the con-
versation to the subject of their crime.
“ You are not naturally bad fellows," said I to them,
“ I‘ll engage that you have been led into all this by
some scoundrel or other; why not own it? From the
confession and repentance you displayed at the sight of
Fontaine, it is easily seen that you would willingly
recall, at the price of your own blood, the violence he
received at your hands. And do you not consider that
by concealing your accomplices you are responsible for
.all the crimes they may commit. Many persons who
have come forward to depose against you, have declared
that you were at least four in number in all your cxpe-
ditions." .
“ They were mistaken then," exclaimed Raoul; “ I
give you my word of honour, M. Jules, that they were;
we were never ,more than three, the other is an old
officer of the customs, named Pons Gerard; he lives
just on the frontier, in a little village between Capelle
and Hirson in the department of the Aisne; but if


unnoins or VIDOCQ. 231
you think to catch him, I must warn you that he is not
to be caught napping, he always sleeps with one eye
open whilst the other is shut.“
“ No!” said Court, “ it would be no easy job to
nab him, and if you do not set your wits to work you
will only get your labour for your pains.”
“ Oh, he is a queer hand indeed," cried Raoul;
“ you are no bungler yourself, M. Jules, but ten like
you would not frighten him; at any rate you must
be on your guard if he gets scent of your being in
search of him; he is not far from Belgium, and will
soon be off; if you surprise him he will make a des-
rate resistance, so try if you cannot manage to take
im asleep."
“ Yes, if you could find out that he ever does sleep,"
added Court.
I made strict inquiries as to the usual habits of
Pons Gérard, and obtained a full description both of
them and his person. As soon as 1 had learned every
particular requisite for being secure of identifying my
man, thinking to stamp the confession I had just elicited
with all possible authenticity, Iproposed to the two
prisoners to write off immediately for a magistrate to
receive their depositions. Raoul instantly took up his
pen, and when his letter was completed, I carried the
letter myself to the king’s solicitor, it was conceived in
the following terms :—
“ Snt,—Being now in a frame of mind more suitable
to our unhappy condition, and resolving to profit by the
advice you bestowed upon us, we have come to the
resolution of acknowledging to you every crime of
which we are guilty, and to point out to you a sharer
in them, whose name is at present unknown to you.
We entreat of you, therefore, to have the kindness to
visit us in our prison, in order to receive our deposi-
tions.”
The magistrate lost no time in acceding to their re-
quest, and Court as well as Raoul repeated before him
all that they had previously told me of Pons Gerard.
x 2


232 MEMOIRS or vmoco
This latter now occupied all my thoughts, and as it
would not do to allow him time to learn the destruc-
tion of his comrade's schemes, I instantly obtained an
order to arrest him.

CHAPTER XLIV.
Ajonrne to the frontiers—A robber—Mother Bordon—Assisted by
is child—A deliberation—l address the object of my search—A
feigned reco nition—A pleasant fellow—The two make a pair~Thc
false smugg er—F'alse advice—A hrigand astonished—We should
not tempt the devil—l deliver the country from a scourge—Hercules
with the skin of a bear—A great devourer of tobacco.
DISGUISED as a dealer in horses, I set out with my
agents Clement and Goury, who passed for my ostlers;
and such was the diligence used by us, that, spite of
the severity of the season and the badness of the roads,
(for it was in the midst of winter,) we arrived at La
Capelle on the evening of the following day, which
happened,. fortunately for my purpose, to be the eve of
a large fair. Having traversed the country more than
once during my military career, I required but a very
short time to arrange my plan of action, and to assume
the dialect of the place. All the inhabitants to whom
I spoke of Pons Gérard described him to me as a
robber, who subsisted only by fraud and rapine; his
very name was sufficient to excite universal terror,
and the authorities of the place, although daily fur-
nished with proofs of his enormities, durst take no
steps to repress them. In a word, he was one of those
terrible beings who compel obedience from all who
summoned them; for my own part, little accustomed
to draw back from a perilous enterprise, these parti-
culars only stimulated me the more to enter upon the
undertaking. My vanity was piqued to accomplish a
task which appeared to vie in difliculty with the laboms
of Hercules, but did I know that success would attend
my arduous attempt? As yet I was ignorant of many


narroms or vrooco. 238
essential points, but trusting for the best, I sat down
to breakfast with my agents, and when we had stifli-
ciently fortified our stomachs, we set out in search of
the hardened accomplice of Court and Raoul. These
latter had pointed out to me a lone auberge as the fa-
vourite haunt of Pons. This house was the rendezvous
of a nest ofsmugglers, and the woman who kept it, con-
sidering Pons as one of her best customers, felt great
interest in all that concerned him. So well had this
auberge been described to me, that I required no fur-
ther directions to find it; I therefore repaired thither
with my two companions, and entering, seated myself
without any ceremony, assuming the tone and manner
of one well used to the ways of the house.
“ Good day to you, Mother Bardou, how goes all
with you 1'"
“ The same to you, my good friends, and many of
them. You are welcome to my poor place; thank
God, we are all pretty comfortable, thanks for your
inquiry. What would you please to have, gentle-
men ?" .
“ Dinner, dinner! my good soul; we are starving
with hunger.”
. “ You shall have it directly, sir-s;—please to step into
the next room, where you will find a good fire.”
Whilst she was employed in laying the cloth, I drew
her into the following conversation :—
“ I begin to fancy, my good hostess, that you have
forgotten my features."
“ Wait a little till I have time to look well at you."
“ Why what a memory you must have to forget how
I used to come with Pons to your house last winter,
many a time have we paid you a moonshine visit.
“ Bless me! now I begin to recollect."
“ To be sure you do, look again."
“ Oh! nowI remember you perfectly.”
“ Well, how is our jolly cove Ge'rard, how is he
getting on '.' quite strong and hearty, eh T”
t “ I’faith is he, he was here only this morning, and
x 3


234 MEMOIRS or vroncq
took a glass or two on his way to Lamare house, where
he had employment." .
Of this h0use,or of its situation,I was utterly ignorant,
nevertheless as I had given myself out as a person well
acquainted with the neighbourhood, I was careful not
to betray myself by risking any inquiry. Still I
trusted that, without directly asking the question, I
should be enabled to lead my voluble friend, by indirect
means, to the point at which I wished to arrive. Ac~
cident favoured me, for scarcely had we swallowed a
few mouthfuls of our dinner, than Mother Bardou en-
tered the room, “ You were talking of Gerard just
now," said she, “ his daughter has just called in.”
“ Indeed l which of the daughters l”
“ The youngest.”
I rose immediately, and running up to the child erm
braced her before she nad time even to look at me;
and rapidly naming each member of her family, made
many and warm inquiries after their health. ‘Nhen she
had replied to them,l cut short the parley by giving
her a trifle of money, and recommending her to hasten
home whither I would accompany her, as I was ex-
tremely anxious to present myself to her excellent mo-'
ther; beckoning to my companions, we left the house,
following the footsteps of our little guide, who, surprised
at the novelty of the rencontre, was making with all
speed for the dwelling of her mother. No sooner, how-
ever, had we got out of sight of the auberge, than I
called to the girl, “ Hark ye, my little one, do you know
the place they call Lamare house ?"
“ It standsjust down there,” said she, pointing with
her finger to the other side of Hirson.
“ Well, then, I’ll tell you what you shall do; just
run on and let your mother know that you have met
three particular friends of your father‘s, and that we
shall return to sup with him. So that she may as well
have it all ready for four of us.-—That‘s right—make
the best of your way ; good evening, my pretty maid.”
The daughter of Gerard pursued her way, and-we


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 235
‘were not slow in following the road she had described
to us, which brought us nearly facing the house we
sought, but no persons were to be seen about, and upon
questioning a countryman whom we met, he informed
us that Pons was at work with a number of labourers
at a short distance from thence; we proceeded onwards,
and having gained an eminence, obtained a view of
about thirty men employed in repairing the high road.
Gérard, by virtue of his office of overseer, was in the
midst of this group. We advanced within fifty steps of
the workmen, when 1 made my agents observe an in-
dividual whose countenance and general appearance
exactly corresponded with the description we had re-
ceived of the ferocious Pons ; although we entertained
no doubt of his being the man, we durst not attempt
to seize him, for should his companions undertake his
rescue, we, of course, should come off but badly, and
even his single arm, when impelled by the fear of being
taken prisoner, might be more than a match for my
small party. Our situation was embarrassing enough,
yet had we displayed the least symptom of it, Gérard
would either have made us pay dearly for our temerity
in daring to attack him, or he would escape our grasp
by a hasty retreat to the frontier. Never had I felt a
greater need of prudence and self-possession. I con-
sulted with my agents, two firm and intrepid men.
“ Act as you think proper,” said they, “ and rest assured
of our seconding you in whatever steps you may take."
“ \Vell then,” cried I, “follow me, and do nothing till
a fit opportunity arrives; perhaps we may turn out the
more cunning party of the two, although the enemy
may have the advantage of superior strength."
I walked directly up to the individual whom I sup-
posed to be Gérard, my two companions keeping at a
little distance. The nearer I approached the more as-
sured did I feel that I had not mistaken my man ; thus
convinced, and without further hesitation, I hurried up
to Pens, and embracing him with every demonstration
of regard, exclaimed, “ Pons, my good fellow, how are


236 unmoms or vrooco.
you ? how is your excellent wife, and all your family!
quite well, I trust ?”
Astonished at this unexpected salutation, Pons re-
mained in silent examination of my face for some
minutes; “ Devil take me,” said he at last, “ ifI know
who or what you are; where the deuce did you spring
from T".
“ What !" said I, “ not recollect me? am I then
indeed so much altered T‘
“ Not I, I do not remember ever seeing you in all
my life; can‘t you just tell me your name? Stay, now I
look again, I feel certain that I have met that face of
yours somewhere or other, although where I have seen
you is more than I can tell.”
“ I am a friend of Raoul and Court,“ said I, whisper-
ing in his ear, “ and am sent to you by them."
“ Ah l" cried he, pressing my hands warmly in both of
his, and turning to the workmen who were gazing in
wonder at this unexpected change of his reception of
me, “ I must have lost my senses, I think, not to re-
member one of my best friends! Not to recognise my
dear friend! the devil must have flown away with my
memory. My dear fellow l let me embrace you ;" and,
'suiting the action to the word, he gave me such an em-
phatic hug as well nigh stifled me.
During this scene my agents had insensibly advanced
nearer to the spot where we stood. Pons perceiving
them, inquired if they belonged to me? “ They are
two of my ostlers,” said I.
“ I thought so, but you must stand greatly in need
of refreshment, and those gentlemen yonder would, I dare
say, have no objection to a glass of something good ;-
what say you i”
“ With all my heart. A bottle of your best wine will
do us no harm."
“ Well, then, let us go; but in this cursed place,
which produces nothing but wolves, there is nothing to
be had; however, if you don’t mind walking over to
Hirson, (which, to be sure, is a good league from hence)


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 237
we shall get as good a bottle of wine as ever was
uncorked.”
“ Come along then, let us go to Hirson.“
Pons bade adieu to his comrades, and we set out
together. As we walked along I could not hel con-
fessing that the immense strength of this man id not
appear to have been at all exaggerated by Raoul or
.Court; he was but of middling height, probably not
more than five feet four inches at the utmost, but square
built,and exhibiting every indication ofmuscular power.
His swarthy face, embrowned still more by a constant
exposure to the sun and wind, was distinguished by
deeply-marked features, expressive of energy and deter-
mination; he had enormous limbs, and a strong, sinewy
throat, in strict accordance with the whole of his robust
frame; in addition to this he wore immense whiskers,
and a more than usual quantity of heard; his hands
were short, thick, and covered with hair, even to the
fingers‘ ends; his harsh and pitiless air seemed to be~
long to a countenance which might exhibit a mechanical
relaxation of the risible muscles, but had never once
smiled from an internal feeling of benevolence or
good-will.
Whilst I was intently occupied in making these ob-
servations, I could perceive that Pons was regarding
me with equal attention; at last stopping suddenly, as
if to take a closer view, he exclaimed, “ Why you really
are a very fine fellow, and fill out your clothes as well
as I have ever seen a man l I think you and I should
make an excellent pair, for I am none of the slightest
figures any more than yourself; not like that little hop-
o'-my-thumb,“ added be, pointing to Clement, (who was
the smallest man amongst my agents ;) “why I could
swallow a dozen such as he at my breakfast."
“ Don‘t flatter yourself,” said I; “ you might not
find it so easy a task as you may fancy."
_ “ Very possibly," replied he; “ these undersized
chaps are frequently all nerve and muscle."


288 MEMOIBS or vmocq.
After these trifling remarks, Pons inquired after his
friends. I told him that they were quite well ; but that
not having seen him since the affair of Avesnes, I had
left them very uneasy as to what had become of him.
(The affair of Avesnes was a murder. When I alluded to
it, his countenance exhibited not the slightest emotion.)
“ Well, and what brings you to this part of the
country ?” asked he; “ are you after a bit of moon-
shine, eh ?"
“ You have just hit it, my friend,” said I. “My
business here is to endeavour to dispose of a string of
broken-down horses, which are famously doctored up
for taking-in the knowing ones. Our friends told me
that you could lend me a helping hand."
P “ Ah, to be sure, you may depend on me,” protested
ons.
With this sort of conversation we reached Hirson,
where we halted at the house of a clock-maker who sold
wine. We were soon placed round a table; our wine
was brought, and, whilst we were drinking it, I led the
conversation back to Court and Raoul. “ Poor fel-
lows,” said I, “ I fear that at this present moment they
are very queerly situated."
“ How so 7” asked he.
“ Why I did not wish to tell you all at once; but
the fact is, they are in considerable trouble; they have
been arrested, and I greatly fear that they are now in
prison." ‘
“ On what account ?‘
“ Of that I am ignorant; all I know is, that I was
breakfasting with Court and Raoul, when the police
broke in upon us, and, after closely interrogating us all
three, they allowed me to go about my business. As
for our two poor friends, they were detained in solitary
confinement; nor would you have learned their mis-
fortune, had not Raoul, in returning from his examina_
tion, managed to whisper a few words to me unobserved,
begging of me to warn you to be on your guard, for


unuorns or vinocq. 239
that they had been closely questioned as to their ac-
quaintance with you. I cannot give you any further
particulars."
“ And who arrested you 1'" inquired Pons, who
seemed thunderstruck at the intelligence.
“ Vidocq."
“ Oh! the scoundrel, the scampl But who is this
Vidocq, of whom we hear so much 3 I have never been
able to meet him face to face; once only I perceived
him following an individual into the house of Causette.
I was told it was him, but I forget all about him; and I
would cheerfully give half-a_dozen bottles of wine to
any one who would procure me a good stare at him.”
“ Bless you, it is easy enough to meet with him,”
replied I ; “ he is always about in one place or another.”
“ Well, I would advise him to keep out of my reach,"
exclaimed Pons. “ If he were here, I‘ll engage he
would pass the worst quarter of an hour he ever expe-
rienced in his life."
“ Oh! you are like all the rest of them, talking of
what you would ‘do; and yet if he were before you at
this moment, you would sit perfectly still, and be the
first to offer him a glass of wine." (At the time I was
saying this I held out my glass, which he filled.)
“ I l I offer him wine! May a thousand devils seize
me first !”
“ Yes, you, _I say, would invite him to drink with
ou.’
" I tell you I would die sooner."
“ Then you may die as soon as you please, for I arr.
Vidocq, and I arrest you l"
“ How, how ; what is this?
“ Yes, I arrest you l” and approaching my face to
his, “ I tell you, villain, I arrest you, you are done;
and if you dare to stir one step, I will tweak off your
rascally nose. Clement, handcufl' this worthy gentle-
man.
The astonishment of Pons defies description. Every
feature appeared distorted, his eyes starting from their


240 murmurs or vrnocq.
sockets, his cheeks quivering, his teeth chattered, and
his hair stood on end; by degrees these symptoms of a
general convulsion, which had affected only the upper
part of his frame, gave way to a fresh revulsion of na_
ture. After his arms were fastened, he remained for
nearly half an hour motionless, and as though petrified.
His lips were apart, and his tongue glued to the palate
of his mouth; and it was only after repeated efforts that
he succeeded in detaching it; in vain his parched and
swollen tongue sought a moisture, which the dried up
lips were unable to afibrd, and the countenance of the
ruffian exhibited alternately the pale, livid, cadaverous
hues of a corpse; at last, recovering from his lethargy,
Pons articulated these words :—
“ What, are you Vidoch ah, had I but known it,
when you first spoke to me, I would have rid the earth
of such a sneaking beggar."
. “ Well,” said I, “ I thank you all the same for your
kind intentions; meanwhile, as you have. fallen into the
trap, you owe me the six bottles of wine you pro-
mised to whoever would show you Vidocq, and you
cannot deny my having done so. Another time I ad-
vise you not to tempt the devil." ‘
The gendarmes who were called in after the arrest
of Pons, could scarcely credit their eyes; during the
search we had been directed to make throughout his.
house, the mayor of the place begged to see us, that he
might express his grateful sense of the service we had
rendered to the whole province.
“ You have," said he, “ delivered us from a frightful
scourge, from a wretch who was our torment and dread.“
All the inhabitants joined in expressing their joy at
the capture of their late foe, as well as their astonish-
ment at the ease with which it had been effected.
The search over, we removed to sleep at La Capelle.
Eons was closely handcuffed to one of my agents, who
had orders not to quit him night or day; at our first
halt, I caused him to be undressed, in order to ascertain
whether or not he had any concealed arms about him.v


marroras or vrnocQ. 241
When he was stripped I really doubted his belonging
to the human race; the whole of his body was covered
with a thick bushy glossy hair; he might; indeed, have
been mistaken for the Hercules Farnese, enveloped in
the skin of a bear.
Pons appeared perfectly tranquil, nor did anything
more than common arise till the following day, when I
ascertained that, during the night, he had eaten more
than a quarter of a pound of tobacco. I had, from pre-
vious observation, noticed, that men who are greatly
accustomed to the use of either tobacco or snuff, make
an immoderate use of it in times of great peril or emer-
gency. I knew well that a pipe is never more quickly
consumed than when in the hands of a condemned cri-
minal, whether it be immediately after receiving his
sentence, or on the eve of its being put into execution ;
but I had never yet seen a prisoner, situated as Pons
was, introduce into his stomach a substance, which,
taken in so large a quantity, might produce the most
fatal effects. I very much feared that he would suffer
from his excess, and even suspected he had committed
it in the hope of its acting as poison. I, therefore, took
from him what tobacco he had remaining, and gave
orders that it should only be dealt out to him in small
doses, and this on condition that he would engage only
to chew it. Pons yielded with a tolerably good grace
to this regulation; he ceased to devour his tobacco,
although I never had any reason to suppose he had ex-
perienced the slightest inconvenience from what he had
previously taken.
VOL Ill“- Y


242 unstoms or vrnocq.
CHAPTER XLV.
A visit to Versailles—Great talking and little doing—Resignation—A
criminal’s agony—We make our own fate—The sleep of a murderer
—New converts—They invite me to witness their execution—Re-
flections on a gold box—A Supreme Being—Nothing to be ashamed
of—The fatal hour—We shall meet a ain—The Carline—The cruci-
fixes—l embrace two death's heads— he spirit of vengeance—A last
adieu—Eternity.
I nn'runnen directly to Paris, and then proceeded with
Pons to Versailles, where Court and Raoul were con-
fined ; immediately upon my arrival I went to see them.
“ Well,“ said I to them, “ our man is taken!”
“ You have caught him !" exclaimed Court, “ so
much the better."
“ But," inquired Raoul, “ tell us how you managed
to cage him, you must have had a fine business to tame
so fierce a creature.”
“ He fierce !" said I, “ on the contrary, he has been
gentle as a lamb."
“ What, did he make no defence? ha! hal Raoul,
do you hear that? he did not even defend himself!“ '
“ The particulars you gave me of him,“ said I,
“ were not thrown away upon me."
Before quitting Versailles, I wished to show my
sense of the kindness of the prisoners in thus aiding
me in the capture of the ferocious Pens, and, accord-
ingly, invited, them to dine with me. My invitation
was accepted with the most lively satisfaction, and
during the remainder of the time we passed together,
not the least gloom or sadness could be observed on
their countenances; they appeared entirely resigned to
their fate, and even their language seemed to have an.
dergone some change, indicative of better feelings
having resumed their empire over their minds.
“ It must he confessed, my friend,” said Court, “ that
we were following a rascally trade."


mazuoras or vinocQ. 243
“ Oh !" returned the other, “ do not mention it; it
makes no one rich in the end but the executioner."
“ And that is not the worst part of it—to be in conti-
- nual misery from constant alarm—never to know one mo-
ment‘s tranquillity—to tremble at the sight of a stranger."
“ True, indeed! I used to fancy I saw spies or dis-
guised gendarmes in all who approached me, and the
least noise, nay, my own shadow, would sometimes
frighten me out of my senses."
“ And, for my part, if I perceived myself an object
of notice to any person, I instantly supposed he was
taking down the description of my erson, and the
blood would rush to my face with such impetuosity as
to sufihse my eyeballs with a guilty blush.“
“ Little, indeed, are the pangs of remorse and the
terrors of a guilty conscience guessed by those who are
innocent of crime; for my own part, rather than endure
them as I have done for years past, I would blow out
my brains."
“I have two children, but if I thought they were
likely to tread in the steps of their unhappy father, I
would implore of their mother to strangle them."
“ Ah, my friend l had we but employed half the care
and reflection in doing well it has cost us to prosecute
our wicked schemes, we might now be enjoying a very
different lot, and anticipating far brighter prospects
than those before us.”
" Well, well! ’tis useless repining, I suppose it was
'our fate.”
“ Don’t tell me that, there is no such thing as fate;
we are the workers of our own destinies, depend upon
it; and I do not seek such a weak excuse for my crimes ;
no, I acknowledge that to a love of bad company alone
I may attribute my being the wretch I am : do you not
remember how, after every fresh act of wickedness, I
sought to drown the whispers of a reproachful con
science by drunken excess? I felt as though the weight
of a mountain were upon me, and had I swallowed
gallons it would have been insufficient to remove it."
Y 2


244 MEMOIBB or VXDO'JQ.
“ And, for my part, I used to feel as though I had
a hot iron gnawing my very vitals; if I fell into a.
short sleep, a thousand devils seemed dancing around
me ; sometimes I fancied myself discovered in clothes
dyed in blooo, burying the corpse of a victim; or
stopped whilst in the act of conveying it away on my
shoulders: shuddering I have awoke, bathed in per-
spiration, wrung from me by the horrid visions of my
tortured spirit; drops of agony, which might have been
gathered in spoonsful, stood upon my aching brow ; in
vain have I sought by any change of position to taste
a quiet sleep ; turning upon my pillow, which seemed
filled with thorns, even the pressure of my nightcap
has appeared to my throbbing brain like the sharp
points of an iron band, which drove its rugged teeth
through my tern les."
“ Ah! I know well what all that is, I have felt as
though a thousand needles were piercing every nerve."
“ Possibly, what you have described, may be what is
generally styled remorse."
“ Remorse or not, it has been a fiery torment—a
torment, M. Jules, which I am weary of ;-—I can bear it
no longer, and it is time to end my misery. Some
persons might owe you a grudge for the part you have
acted towards us, but for my part I consider that you
have done us a service; what say you, Raoul?
“ Since our confession, I feel as though I were in
paradise in comparison with my former sufferings. I
know that we have at trying scene to go through, but‘
our poor victims suffered as much at our hands, and it
is but fair that we should serve as examples to others.”
At the moment of separating from them, Raoul and
Court begged of me to do them the kindness to come
and see them directly they had received their sentence ;
this I promised, and I kept my word. Two days after
they had been condemned to death, I went to them.
When I entered their dungeon, they both uttered a cry
of joy, and made its gloomy walls echo with the joyful
welcome of their “ liberator,” as they termed me. _They‘


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 245
assured me that my visit afforded them the greatest
pleasure they were capable of receiving, and entreated
me to bestow on them one friendly embrace, in
token of my forgiveness of their past, and satisfaction
at their present, conduct. I had not the heart to re-
fuse them. They were fastened to a camp bed, with
their hands and feet heavily fettered. I advanced to-
wards them, and they pressed me in their arms with
all the warmth and enthusiasm with which the sin-
cerest friends would welcome each other after a long
separation. A. friend of mine, who was present at
this interview, experienced considerable alarm at seeing
me in a manner entirely at the mercy of two assassins.
“ Fear nothing," said I.
“ No, no," exclaimed Raoul, “ fear nothing, there is
little chance of our wishing to injure our good friend
M. Jules."
“ M. Jules l" cried Court, “ no, indeed, he 15 our
only friend, and what is more, he does not forsake us
now l"
As I was leaving them, I perceived two small books
lying beside them, one of which was half open, and
was entitled “ Christian Meditations.”
“ You have been reading, my friends," said I, “ is
religion a favourite study with you ?”
“ Oh no," said Raoul, “ I know very little about it;
these books were left us this morning by a clergyman
who has been to visit us. I have just opened them,
and certainly if people would follow the precepts they
contain, the world would be better than it now is.”
“ Yes, so I think," said Court, “ I am beginning to
see that religion is not such a humbug as I once thought
it ; depend upon it we were not sent into the world to
live and die like brutes.”
I congratulated the new converts upon the happy
change which had taken place in them.
“ Who would have thought, two months back," re-
sumed Court, “ that I should suffer myself to be
noodled by a priest!"
Y 3


246 memorns or vmocq.
“ And you know," rejoined Raoul, “ my contempt
for them and their sermons, but when men stand in our
present awful extremity, it becomes them to look well
about them; not that death alarms me; I care as little
for it, as I do for this cup of water. You will see
whether I dread merely leaving this world, M. Jules."
“ Ah yes l" said Court to me, “ you must come.“
“ I will do so, I promise you.”
“ Honour."
“ I pledge you my honour, I will be present."
The day appointed for the execution I repaired
to Versailles, it was ten o'clock in the morning when I
entered the prison, the two unhappy men were deeply
engaged with their confessors. They no sooner per-
ceived me, than precipitately rising, they approached me.
RnovL, (taking my hand.) “ You do not know what
pleasure the sight of you affords me, my friend; we
were just preparing to leave this world with a clear
conscience."
IVIYSl-JLF. “ Pray do not let me interfere with so
sacred and important a duty.”
COURT. “ You disturb us, M. Jules! surely you are
jestiug.”
RnovL. “ Our time draws to a close, we have but a
poor ten minutes before us. (Turning to the ministers.)
These gentlemen will excuse us.“
RAOUL’s conenssox. “ Proceed, my son, proceed !"
COURT. “ There are but very few in the world
like M. Jules; nevertheless he it was who caged us—
but that is nothing."
RAOUL. “ If he had not done so, some one else
would.“
COURT. “ Yes, and some person, in all probability,
who would not have treated us half so well.”
RAUUL. “Ah! M. Jules, I shall never forget all
your kindness to me.”
Coum. “ No friend‘could have done more.”
RAOUL. “ And to come and witness the, last con-.
eluding scene into the bargain."


M EMOIRS or vrnocq. 247
MYSELF, (offering some snuff in the hope of chang-
ing the conversation.) " Come my friend, take a pinch,
you will find it very good.”
RAOUL, (taking a hearty pinch.) “ Not so bad; (he
sneezes several times ;) this is native to quit, is it not
M. Jules 2'“
MYSELF. “ I fear you may, indeed, look upon it as
such.”
At this moment Raoul opened the box, which he
had taken into his own hands, looked at it attentively,
and offering it to Court, inquired his opinion of it.
“ It is a fine thing of the sort, is it not, Court? tell me
of what material it is composed 2”
Courvr, (turning away and shuddering.) “ It is gold."
RAOUL. “ You are right to avert your eyes from the
sight of that fatal metal, which has caused the ruin of
man since its first introduction; alas! we are melan-
choly instances of the pernicious effects it has pro-
duced.”
COURT. “ To say that for such trash we should draw
dovvri so much trouble and suffering upon ourselves;
how much better had we devoted our time to honest
labour. We had both of us excellent parents; what are
we now but a disgrace to them and our families ?”
RAOUL. “ That is not my greatest grief at this awful
moment. Think of the gentlemen whose wearands we
have cut! the unfortunate beings! my heart bitterly
repreaches me for their sufferings."
Covn'r, (embracing him.) “ But you sincerely repent
of your past offences, and are about to pay with your
own life for those lives you have taken.—‘ He who
sheddeth man‘s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.’
I think that was what the worthy father here was read-
to me as M. Jules entered."
Conar's conresson. “ Come, my children, time is
hastening on."
RAOUL. “ 'Tis all in vain ; the Supreme Being (if
there really be one) can never pardon such guilty
wretches as we are.”


248 M EMOIRS or vrnocq.
Court'r's couresson. “ God‘s mercy is inexhaustible.
Jesus Christ dying on the cross interceded with his
father for the penitent thief.“
Conn-r. “ May he be pleased to intercede for us
likewise."
ONE or THE conrsssoas. “ Raise your soul to God,
my children, prostrate yourselves in humble prayer be-
fore him.”
The two sufferers looked at me as if to discover what
they ought to do. They appeared to fear my ridiculing
any devotional feelings as the result of cowardice or
weakness.
MYSELF. “ Let no false shame prevent your obeying
the reverend father.”
Raoun, (to his comrade.) “ My friend, let us recom-
mend our souls to our Maker.”
Both Raoul and Court kneeled down, and remained
for about a quarter of an hour in that position. They
seemed rather collected than absorbed. The clock
struck half past eleven, they looked at each other, and
both speaking together, exclaimed, “ In half an hour it
will be all over with us.” As they pronounced these
words they rose; I saw that they wished to speak with
me, I therefore drew aside, and they approached me.
“ M.Jules,” said Court, “ we would beg a last favour
in addition to those we already owe you."
“ What is it? depend upon my readiness to perform
whatever you may require."
“We have each of us awife in Paris—My kind
wife! the thoughts of her breaks my heart—it over-
comes me l”—tears filled his eyes, his voice became
inarticnlate, and he could not proceed.
“Come, Court,” said Raoul, “ what is the matter
with you? Come, never play the baby; after all, you
astonish me! can you be the brave fellow I took you
for? Have not I a wife as well as you? Come, my
boy, courage, courage l" '
“ ‘Tis over now," resumed Court, “ what I had
to say to M. Jules was respecting some commis-


nanoms or vmoco. 249
sions we would fain intrust him with for our poor wi-
dows.”
I pledged my word for the exact fulfilment of their
desires; and when they had made known their wishes,
I renewed the assurance of their being strictly per-
formed.
Rsovn. “ I was quite sure that you would not re-
fuse us.”
Conny. “ Ah, M. Jules, how can we hope to repay
your kindness 'l"
RAOUL. “ If what our ghostly friend here asserts be
true, we shall meet in another and a better world.”
MYSELF. “ I trust so; and sooner perhaps than we
at present think for.”
Counr. “ Ah, ’tis a journey that must be taken
sooner or later. We are upon the eve of our departure.”
Raoun. “ M. Jules, is your watch correct ?”
MYSELF. “ I believe it is too fast.” (I drew it from
my pocket.)
RAOUL. “ Let us see—twelve o’clock.”
Court'r, “ The hour for our execution; heavens!
how the time gallops on i"
RAOUL. “ Look, the large hand is just about to over-
take the small one i We shall never be weary of talk-
ing with you, M. Jules, but still we must part ;—here,
take these prattlers, we have no further need of them."
(The pmttlers were the books I have before described.)
Connr. “ And these two crucifixes, take them also;
they will at least serve to remind you of us.”
A noise of carriages was heard, the two culprits
turned pale.
RAOUL. “ It is a wrse plan to repent of our sins,but'
what if I determine to die gamei—No ; let me not turn
bravado as many have done, but meet my fate with the
courage of a man, and the resignation of a sinner.”
COURT. “ Well said, my friend, let us be firm, yet
contrite.”
The executioner arrived at the moment for ascending
the fatal cart, and the sufferers bade me adieu.


250 MEMOIBS or VIDOCQ.
“ You have just embraced two death's heads,“ said
Raoul, as he followed his friend.
The procession moved on towards the place of pu-
nishment. Raoul and Court were intently listening to
their confessor, when, all at once, I saw them start ;—a
voice, never to be forgotten, had struck upon their ear;
it was that of Fontaine, who, recovered from his
wounds, had mingled with the spectators ; animated by
the spirit of vengeance, be abandoned himself to the
most ferocious expressions of joy. Raoul recognised
him, and casting a look towards me, full of contempt
and pity for the unmanly exultation displayed by the
man to whom he was making all the atonement in his
power, he seemed to exPress that the presence of Fon-
taine was unpleasant and painful to him. As the vin.
dictive butcher had taken his station close by me, I lost
not an instant in compelling him to withdraw, and by
a slight movement of the head, both Raoul and his com-
panion testified their grateful sense of this attention to
their wishes.
Court was first executed; even when he had ascended
the scaffold his eye sought mine, as if to inquire whe-
ther I was satisfied with him. Raoul displayed equal
firmness, he was in the very prime of life; twice did
his head rebound upon the fatal plank, and the blood
spirted out with so much violence as to cOver the spec_
tators even at the distance of twenty paces !
Such was the end of these two men, whose villany
was less the effect of natural depravity than the con-
Sequence of having associated with dissolute characters,
who in the very bosom of society form a distinct race,
possessing their own principles, virtues, and vices.
Raoul was only thirty-eight years of age, tall, active,
agile, and vigorous ; his eyebrows were high and arched,
his eye small, lively, and of a sparkling black; his
forehead, without being depressed, retreated backwards
a little, and his ears, which stood out from his head, ap-
peared as though grafted upon two protuberances,iike
the generality of the Italians, whom he likewise re.


uenroms or vrnocq. 251
sembled in the olive tint of his complexion. Court
possessed one of those countenances which defy the
rules of physiognomy; he had a half squint with one
eye, and the whole of his features could be said to boast
of neither a good nor a bad expression; unless the sharp
angles and projecting cheek bones might be construed
into an indication of ferocity. Probably these symp-
toms of a bloodthirsty disposition had developed them-
selves through the constant murders and other atrocious
acts in which he was constantly engaged. Court was
forty-five years of age, and from his youth had been
continually involved in guilty courses ;—to have gone on
so long with impunity must have required a more than
ordinary supply of boldness and cunning.
The commissions intrusted to me by the two mur-
derers were of a nature to prove that their hearts were
yet accessible to good feeling. I discharged them with
punctuality ; as to the presents which they made me, I
ave preserved them and can still show the books and
the two crucifixes.
Pons Gérard, whom it was impossible to convict of
the murder, was sentenced to perpetual hard labour.
END OF VOL. I'll"
LONDON = '
PRINTED BY ‘V. CLGWES, STAMFORD STREET-





M[ E M O I R, S
op
VIDOCQ,
pRINCIPAL AGENT OF THE FRENCH POLICE
uNTIL 1817 ;
AND NOVV PROPRIETOR OF
THE PAPER MANUFACTORY AT ST. MANDE,
W RITTEN BY HIMSEL F.
TRANSLATED FROM THIE - FRENCH.
La profession de voleur n'existerait pas, en tant que profession, si
les malheureux contre lesquels la justice a sévi une fois n'étaient pas
honnis, vilipendés, maltraités ; la société les contraint à se rassembler :
elle crée leur réunion, leurs mœurs, leur volonté et leur force.
IN FOUR VOLUMES.
VOL. IV.
LONDON :
WHITTAKER, TREACHER, AND ARNOT,
AVE-MARIA-LANE,
MDCCCXXIX.





CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XLVI-
PAGE
The three categories—Science advances—Crimes and
punishments—Expiration without end—Roberto cre-
dile experlo—The absurd penalty—The gouache: and
the voltigeuns—The purse—The classic and romantic
-—The Rococo—Moral toxicology—Good and bad
mushrooms—Monacography—The system of Linnmus
-~Monstrosities—Researches of a classification—A
nomenclature—The Saladomates and the Balanliolo-
mister—Chemical analysis—The visit of the sage and
the treatise De famosis—Pockets a la Boulard—An
astrological receipt—Argus and Briareus—Faith alone
can save us—M. Prunaud, or the unexpected dis‘
covery—I can get 50 per Cent.-—-The claim of the
emigre—A domestic robbery—The watch—The lady
carried off—M. Becoot and the Due de Modéne—The
English lady who flies away—Return to the catego-
ries—Let us begin with the Cambrioleur.. . . . . - . . . - 1
CHAPTER XLVII.
THE CAMBRIOLEUR.
The costume of the city—The habitual quid—Houses
without a. porter—Curiosity of the lodgers—The mid-
wives’ messengers—Waistcoats and cravats—The
trophy of love—Baskets and scuttles—New faces-
Tremble for Sunday—Good advice—Take a stick-—
Houses with a porter—Pay your watchmen—Cam-
brioleurs d lafian—The fire-work and the nosegay—
The caroubleur—A short list of suspicious gentry-


n coN'rsN'rs.
spies—The nourriueura—Conceal the openings—
Perfidious neighbours—Oh ! my fine fellow, you are
known in spite of your handsome mask. . . . . .
n-Iv..
CHAPTER XLVlll.
The rendezvous—Two notorious thieves—The placard
—-Speaking too much is injurious—The danger of a
local memory—A juridical mistake—M. Delaveau and
M. de Belleyme, or the evil genius and the good
genius—Horrible consequences—One reputation is as
good as another—There is a mean path . . . .
CHAPTER XLIX.
I arrive from Brest—The good woman—Pity is not love
-—My first meal—The father-in-law—The Harlequin
and the persillade—Suppers in the Rue Grenétat—
My cambrioleure—I ally myself to ‘ clean out’ a pawn-
broker—Annette appears in the horizon—Great dis-
comfiture—I fall sick—A theft to pay the apothecary
—Henriette pays for the broken pots—l see her
again—A fugitive—He gets the assistance of the guard
to carry off the treasure of the police—Unjust suspi-
cions—The fugitive is betrayed—Memorable words—-
A colossal reputation—The chef~d’ueuvre of the kind
—Hang yourself, brave Crillon l—Go to England
and they will hang you. .
u---.--~---n-..------~|
QHAPTER L.‘
Capdeville, or Monsieur Proteus-The false farmer-
general—Simplicity of M. Seguin—‘ Hay in the boots'
-—-T he widow well guarded—Perseverance—Monsieur
Fierval—A walk—The lover of nature—The fortu-
nate country—The universal panacea—The fountain
of Jouvence—One pinch, two pinches; how to make
use of them—Miraculous virtues of the ionic bonne—
Great herborization—‘ Culling of simples’—l shall be
RosiEre—The Circé of St. Germain—Stop thief!
murder! guard! fire {—A hole—A great discovery—
Disappointment of a broker—The candid avowal—
Look to yourarm—chairs ......--...-....,...,.--
1
PAGE
46
53
55
64
4


comes-rs. vii
Edd!
CHAPTER Ll..
A visit to Rouen—Disgust of the world—Whims of a
misanthrope—Choicc of a solitude—Poets and her-
mits, nam recesrum et otr'a quwrunt—Plan of an ex-
cursion—Strange scruple—The love of patrimony—
The feigned departure—The danger of dining at Paris
——The impressions and false keys—He returns not—
In whom can we place confidence?... . . .. 71
CHAPTER LII.
Adele d’Escars—The first step—Borrowed name—Fatal
inscription—The ofiice of manners and the crown-
piece—The ladies of the house and the resting-place—
Honour is like an island—The measure of the prefect
and the claws of Satan—A public avovval-'—The de-
spair of parents—M. de Belleyme—The thieves en
fierbefThe chapter of cambrioleurs_Good head and
good heart—Liberal allowances—A privation . . . . . . . 74
CHAPTER LIII.
The pangs of solitude—Love—Living as man and wife-
The excellent-pupil—A first attempt—The breaking
in—Where the devil is the money P—Compensation—
A scene of enthusiasm—Life is a bed of eiderdown,
full of pleasure—The danger of opposite windows—
The perfidious curtains—The reflection-A bed-room
hussar—The crusade—The window blinds of curiosity
-~The judge’s beard—A chance occurrence—Sixteen
years’imprisonment........................... 80
C HAPTER LIV.
The fruits of economy—Plan of amendment—The skilful
workwoman-Precarious existence-Consequences of
prejudice—The Mont de Piété—Despair—Shemust
die—Cruel punishment—The instruments of crime—
Resistance totemptation.................---.-. 86


viii conrnurl.
PAGE
CHAPTER LV.
The bureau of charity—The door of the philanthropist-
The dowager’s equipage_An accident—The good
coalheaver—The committee of succour—The mob in
action—The basket woman’s collection—Little people
have great virtues—Like master like man—The shirt-
sleeve—Victory proclaimed too soon—The grand
figure—The exempts—Unheard of brutality—The car-
rying oE-The carriage departs. .... ... . . . . . . t 89
CHAPTER LVI.
The inside of a coach—Two wretches—La Morgue and
the corps-de-garde—False humanity—The compas-
sionate soldiers—The invincible Eighteenth—The
good captain—Who gives what he has, gives what he
can—The return home—A straw bed—A delirium—
The candle end-—Gratitude. . .... .... .. .... . . . .. 99
CHAPTER LVll.
The kettle empty—The audience and reading la Quoti-
diennc—Break your arms and legs l—Have you a
curate ?—Justice is there—The tall figure again—The
secondbrcakfast.... .- . . U“... . -....... _ 107
CHAPTER LVIII.
A priest should be humane—The parsonage-house—The
preparations for a gala—The devotees—Curiosity—
The Abhé Tatillon, or the major-domo—Tc Deum
laudamus—Regrets Li la coméIe—An indiscretion—
Meddle with your own atfairs ................... . .......... 110
CHAPTER LIX.
The Sacristan—Demoiselle Marie, or the pass-word—
The two Vicars, or the parallel—The old and the new
-—Well-ordered charity—The representation—Regis-
ters _of the civil_state—-Picture of deep misery—No


CONTENTS.
ix
I‘AGE
one dies of hunger—Malediction-A general confes-
sion—The tall figure again—Impertinent allusion~
Baptism and burial—The charitable actor ...............
CHAPTER LX.
The month too soon passed away—Visit to benefactors—
They have gone—The mourning coaches—The attend-
ants on funerals——The apostrophes—The lackeys—
The chapel—We owe truth to the dead—The director
of the quadrilles—The plain of Virtues—The drum
beats—Atrocious jestings—A brawl—The excommu-
nicant—God! it is he—ls it a vision ?—The vanities
of an impious creature—The funeral-knell—The two
folding-doors—The clergy—The corners of the pall—
The tall figure appears again—Hatred of the world. .
CHAPTER LXI.
A rambling brain—Despair—The charcoal-vender—A
surprise—Every one for himself—There is no longer
a God—Final determination--The closed door—Pre-
caution—The chafing-dish._Unanimity—Mind the
bomb—Conscience—the mouth utters, but the heart
has no participation—An ‘ attain-the life of the holy.
CHAPTER LXII.
The morning~walk—-Ill-gotten gains bring nothing but
pains-—Castle in the air—Gaiety—The storm is pre-
paring—Two keys—The new-laid eggs and the fruit-
woman—The unkind landlord—A good deed brings
happiness—Precautions . ..................................
CHAPTER LXIII.
The treasure—Anxious moments—M. and Madame
Lombard—The capricious lock—The whale and the
elephant—The knitting-needle—Thieves—The couple
rolled heels over head—The locksmith—The ring taken
out—The apron-.Send for the Commissary.............
115
123
135
150
156


CONTINTL
CHAPTER LXIV.
PAGE
Great joy in the house—A cloud-the work of benevo-
lence—Preparations fora. breakfast-The larder re-
plenished—Honest projects-The salt-cellar upset—
The Commissary—The search—A visit from a. lady—
A recognition—Return to St. Laure—Sentence for
life. ..... ............ . .......... .........
CHAPTER LXV.
Tun CHEVALIERS GRIMPANTs.
The dormeurl dc bonjoum—The library of a bonjoun'er—
The thin shoes—The sins of families—Perpetuallaugh-
ter—The goupineur A la desserte—The mistaken
forgers-Advice to the reader.
C H AFTER LXVI .
Tm: BONCARDIERS.
The boncardier on the look-out—Keep a good dog—
Advanlages of disorder—Children‘s playthings and
crockery—The extended cord—Detonating peas—Re-
gular passports.......... -...
.---.u---.------|
CHAPTER LXVII.
THE DETOURNEURS AND DETOURNEUSES.
The good hiding-place—The customer in a. hurry—Ma-
gic words—The préparateurs—Boxes with double
bottoms—Secret pockets—The child on the counter
—A woman who knew how to handle her feet—Ad-
vice to jewellers—The mendicant—The chipeurs of
distinction......-............................
CHAPTER LXVIII.
Vonvns ET Von-:uszs sous COMPTOXR.
Both sides of the way—The watchmaker and the hatter
-—Dupes and accomplices—La Connarde—The dis-
pute................. ...................-..
163
171
177
182
186


CONTENT&
CHAPTER LXIX.
Lzs CAREURS.
PAGE
Take care of your money—The \yoman Caron again—
The liquor-merchant robbed—The baker of the Rue
Martiuville—The pretended widowe—The priests of
Saint Gervais and Saint Medard—The height of wick-
edness—The gypsies...........................
CHAPTER LXX.
Lns Rouuznzas.
The obedient driver—The bold robber—The diadem of
the Queen of Naples—The diamonds and the ball in
the Rue Frépillon—The preservatives. . . . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER LXXI.
LES TIREURS.
The owner of the learned ass—The Englishman at the
parade—The Norma—Eyes at the fingers’ ends—
Cllicane—The daring pickpocket—The fog and the
repeater—The man of busineu—Efiicacy of the pu-
nishment of death.............
1-.----.-..'.--
CHAPTER LXXII.
LEs FLOUBURS.
The money finders—A good bottle of wine—The Saint-
J ean—Le verre en fleurs—The money-balance and
lalnbmplle.....................i..-.....
CHAPTER LXXIII.
Les Emron'rnuns.
The gentlemen who lose themselves—The curiosities of
Paris—The two cradles—The ofl'icious Cicerone—The
member of the university and the rattle-snake . . - - . .
189
195
193
203
206


xii courts-rs.
CHAPTER LXXlV.
Les Emrnun'rsuns.
PME
Travelling post—Portmanteau given in charge—The ex-
ordium—The aristocrats—The ingots—Splendid ope-
ration—What cmbarrasses, harasses—The deposit—
The Little Soldier, and the madman of Cette—Bril-
liants and sapphires—M. Fromager—The twin sisters 210
CHAPTER LXXV.
Lss Games on Soumssss.
The pigeon—The pieces of gold—The case—The forgot-
tonkey—Thebullets.................. ....... .234
CHAPTER LXXVI.
Les Rnnnsrmues.
(Halves)——The reader of posting bills—The accommoda-
ting man—Mishap to a cordon-bleu—The husband and
wife, or the watch and chaIn—A domestic breeze—-
Pickpocket and forget—The will of the law. . . . . . . . 238
CHAPTER LXXVIl.
Lss Escasrss, on Gaseous on Carmen.
Insinuating manners—Good people—The Cornu family
~The prepared alibi—The peripatetics—The cripple 244
CHAPTER LXXVlll.
Salambier—The Mayor’s order—The false allies—Dogs
at fault—A fortunate occurrence—A fugue—The Zero
of life—The Alpha, Omega, and Beta—1816. . . . . . . 248


MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ.
CHAPTER XLVI.
The three categories—Science advances—Crimes and punishments
—-Expiation without end—Roberto credit: experts—The absurd
penalty—The panache: and the voltigeurs—The purse—The classic
and romantic—The Rococo—Moral toxicology—Good and bad mush-
rooms—Monacogrnp‘ny—The system of Linnmus—Monstrositiex—
Researches of sol " tion—A ‘ tore—The “ ' -' ‘n
and the Balnntiotomister—Chemical analysis—The visit of the sage
and the treatise De Famous—Pockets a la Boulard—An astrolo icnl
(receipt—Argus and Briareus—Faith alone can save us—M. rue
naud or the unexpected discovery—I can get 50 per Cent—The
claim of the emigre—A domestic robbery—The watch—The lad
carried oE—M. Becoot and the Due de Modéne—The English lady
who files away—Return to the categories—Let us begin with the
Cambrioleur.
l
Turnvss form three great categories or classes, in which
may be found many divisions and subdivisions.
To the first of these categories belong thieves by pro-
fession, who are reputed incorrigible, although the
almost perpetual efficacy of the system which the North
Americans adopt towards their prisoners, proves that
there is no rogue so hardened but that he may be
brought to repentance and an honest mode of life.
A life of constant crime is ordinarily the result of a
first fault; impunity encourages and incites, and pu-
nishment does not correct nor divert it. Impunity
may long favourthe criminal, but sooner or later it has
its termination. Happy would it be, thrice happy, if
punishment (whatever be the nature of the crime) did
VOL. W, B


2 ' MBMOXRS or vrnoco.
not leave behind an indelible brand of disgrace. But:
our European societies are so organized that inexpe-
rience has every means and temptation to become per-
verted. Does it succumb? Justice is at work. Justice l
rather legislation. It strikes the blow, and whom does
it strike? The poor, the ignorant, the unfortunate, to
whom the bread of education has been denied; him in
whom no moral principle has been inculcated ;—him to
whom the law has not been promulgated ;—him who
could have no rules of conduct but those lessons of a
catechism so soon forgotten, because the child did not
understand it, and the man only finds in it, beneath a
mass of religious ceremonies, and formulae too little ex-
lained to be put in practice. Let us not be deceived:
in spite of the diffusion of light, the education of the
people is not yet completed, it is still to do. Science
is abroad, but she walks alone; she advances for the
privileged classes ; she progresses for the rich. She
illumines only the upper regions, the lower are still in
darkness ; the poor go on hap-hazard and blindly : woe
to him who errs and mistakes the right roadl At each
step there are abysses, gulphs, barrier-obstacles, so much
the worse! They have not the benefit of a beacon to
guide them. Find out your road, ye poor and humble !
if you do not find the proper one, your lives are the
forfeiture. _
Have you wandered from the line? would you retrace
your steps? do you wish to do so in all sincerity and
earnestness? Vain desire—your lives are forfeited-
so wills the prejudiced. You are outcasts ; you are in-
com'gible; Parias ; hope is no longer yours. The so-
ciety which condemns you, which excommunicates you,
has uttered its anathema against you. The judge has
sentenced you, and you shall have no more bread.
When the expiation is indefinite, why speak of tem-
porary punishment? The tribunal inflicts a punish-
ment, the duration of this chastisement is fixed ; but
when the sentence ceases to be in force, opinion still
exists, and always strikes, right or wrong, right and left,


4 rumours or vmoco.
scribed, if he has not the courage to perish, it is neces-
sary that he take refuge somewhere; an interdict is laid
on his return to your society, you repulse him, and whi-
ther can he betake himself? Into his own, and his own
is the enemy ofyours. It is you then who increase the
number of malefactors : for the principle of all society
is mutuall to assist each other. His peers will first
extend to him the hand of succour, but if they nourish
him to-day, it is on condition that to-morrow he will
rob you. It is you who have reduced him to this ex-
tremity; do not complain, do not pity yourselves, but
ifyou retain any good feeling, pity him.
The business of a thief would not exist, not as a pro-
fession certainly, if the unhappy creatures against whom
justice has directed her power once, were not disgraced,
vilipended, ill-used ; society compels them to herd
together; she constrains their re-union, their manners,
their will, and their power.
Let it not be thought that this thrusting out, this ex-
clusion of the freed convict is the result of a delicacy of
conventional feeling; this system is but the consequence
of hypocrisy. Is the liberated man rich? All the
world receives him with open arms; there is no door
that is not open to him; he is received everywhere.
Roberto credite ez'perte. I can speak from positive
knowledge. If he have a good table, and particularly a
well stocked cellar, he may calculate amongst his guests
magistrates, bankers, money-brokers, counsellors, nota_
ries : they will not blush to appear with him in public;
they will call him their friend, he will be their very
good associate and companion, and the commissary, with
hat in hand, will not deem it a dishonour to take
him by the hand, quite the reverse.
The second class of robbers consists of a multitude of
weak creatures, who, placed on a rapid declivity, between
their passions and their wants, have not the power of
resisting those dangerous seductions that beset them and
lure them on to ruin by bad example. It is, for the most
part, amongst gamblers, that recruits are found to fill up


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 5
this distressing list, the members of which are on the
high way that leads to the scaffold. A crown thrown
of the green table is the overt act for him who does so;
circumstances follow, he is compelled to become a forger,
thief, assassin, parricide ; those who authorize gambling
are accomplices and provokers to crime : the blood of
the infatuated being, and that which he sheds, is on your
head.
The individuals who range themselves in the third
class are the necessitous, whom misery alone has ren-
dered guilty. Society ought to be indulgent towards
them. The whole, with very few exceptions, only ask
to be at peace with the laws; but formerly it was indis-
pensable that they should be at peace with their stomach.
opulation is certainly too much narrowed, or rather
those who have the means are too egotistical as to their
appetite.
Should not punishment he graduated by necessity,
in proportion to the greater or inferior understanding
of the delinquent, in proportion to his situation? The
extent of his intellect, his abilities, cultivated or not, and
a crowd of other powerful motives which always more
or less destroy the free action of what comes afterwards ;
-—-should they not be taken into consideration? Punish-
ments are proportioned to crimes: true, but the same
crime is atrocious or excusable according as it is com-
mitted by a doctor of law, or a wild rustic of Basse-
Bretague,
In a state of civilization with which we are not all
equally sharers, laws, that they may not be unjust in
their application, should be made like the soldiers’
dress, of three sizes, with a great latitude to the judges'
discretion to decide according to the circumstances of
the case. .
Thieves by profession are all those who, voluntarily
or not, have contracted a habit of appropriating to
themselves the property of another: they have but one
word, one thought—plunder, This class includes from
the pickpocket to the highway robber; from the usurer
B 3


6 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
to the dealer who deals in apalace, in the provisions of
an army.
We will not mention those who are not accused.
The others form ten or twelve quite distinct species
without counting the varieties; then come the passers
from city to city. As to the object they propose to
themselves, thieves are everywhere pretty generally
alike : but it is not everywhere that they operate simi-
larly, they progress with the age they live in. Cartouche
now would only be a daring fellow, (gouache renforce'e,)
and Coignard out of the Bagne would pass for an active
light-horseman (voltigeur). The moving world has not,
to my knowledge, an academy, but yet possesses, like
the literary world its classics and romances; the scheme
which formerly was “ deep and knowing” is now but a
poor device. The purse covered with bells, whence
the tatler was to be prigged without one of the bells
sounding, this purse, which to our ancestors seemed a
trial so ingenious and dexterous, this purse is as Cor-
neille, as Racine, as Voltaire—Rococo 1!!
It is to the living that our moderns address 'them-
selves; it is in nature that they make their first essays.
At their very first debfit they do some master-stroke;
in their estimation the ancients are as if they had never
been. There are no more models, no more copies, no
more routes traced out, no one imitates. The contest
is, who shall strike out for himself some novel mode of
proceeding. However, he is in a circle in which the
originals themselves must move. I have observed them,
I have seen their point of departure, I km )7 how they
go, and whatever may be their evolutions or their
genius, all the sinuosities of their progress are known to
me beforehand. Through the thousand and one trans-
formations which are produced daily by the necessity
of escaping a searching surveillance, 1 have been able
to distinguish the character proper to each species;
the physiognomy, language, habits, manners, dress,
arrangement, and details; I have studied all, remem-
bered all: and if an individual pass before me, if he he


‘MEMOIRS or vmocq. 7
a robber by profession, I will point him out, I will even
tell his line of business. Frequently from the inspection
of a single article of clothing I would more quickly de_
scribe a thief from head to heel than our celebrated
Cuvier, with two maxillaries and half-a-dozen vertebrae,
can distinguish an antidiluvian animal or a fossil man.
There is in the garb of a rogue hieroglyphics which can
be decyphered with more certainty than those of which
M. de Figeac boasts of having given as the interpreta-
tion ad aperturam librt'. There are equally in manners
tokens which are by no means equivocal ;—I ask par-
don of Lavater as well as of the renowned doctors
Gall and Spurzheim, in fact of all physiognomists or
phrenologists, past, present, and to come; for, in the
monography that I am about to trace, I shall not heed
the irregularities of countenance, nor frontal protube-
rances, nor occipital bumps: the indications I shall fur-
nish will be more precise, and certainly more ascer-
tained and positive, guarding carefully against that
spirit in the system which only generates errors. A
good toxicology is not based on hypotheses: see that
of M. Orfila. \Ve do not play with poisons ; and when
we desire to have a sure way of distinguishing between
good and bad mushrooms, between the poisonous
species and those which are not so, we must have
proofs of an evidence so constant and palpable, that no
person can mistake. That we may find a support in
comparison, I quote the learned Doctor Rocques, whose
excellent work on this subject is so justly estimated.
Since by this series of approximatives which the
reader doubtless did not anticipate, I have reached the
confines of natural history, I am not sorry of the coinci-
dence to declare that it is only by my method that I
have undertaken to class thieves. During my search a
work fell into my hands, with pictures, and for men as
well as children illustrations have attractions. Whilst
the commissary was actively engaged in discovering a
pamphlet, (one, I think, by Paul Louis Courier,) I was
amusing myself with the prints it contained. The


8 MEMorns or vroocq.
book which afforded me this innocent amusement, was
a Monacologie or Monacographie, in which all the
orders of monks and nuns were classed and described
after the system of Linnaeus. The idea was ingenious:
I confess that it made me smile, and afterwards when
thinking of drawing up a classification of thieves, I was
almost tempted to make a profit of it; but when I re-
flected again, I was soon convinced that there would be
a great deal too much to do to detect in a robber the
stamina, petals, pistils, corolla, capsules : certainly
with a little stretch of imagination we can see all that
is written down so humorously; to make it appear, in'
spite of the phantasmagoria and conjurations of Ca-
gliostro, is entirely another thing l—The capsules of a
Minor friar and the pistil of a visiting nun may be
imagined without much effort. But although robbers
propagate their species, and increase and multiply one
amongst the other according to the commandment, they
increase and multiply no more nor less than plants and
animals; as it is not that which essentially distinguishes
them, I must renounce the Linnean system, and resolve
to state only my plain and simple remarks, without
troubling myself by inquiring if it would be more ad-
vantageous to arrange them very learnedly by adapting
to the individuals who are the subject of it the more
recent denominations of zoology.
Perhaps in considering the treatise of Monstrosities
of M. Geofi'roy Saint Hilaire, I might contrive to en-
graft my mode on his ; but the analogy between mon-
strosities, with which both of us are occupied, have not
appeared to me sufliciently striking to induce me to
take the trouble of consulting him. Besides, who dares
affirm that the inclination to rob is an anomaly ?—and
granting that it is urgent to repress it, it is still a ques-
tion of inquiry, if it be not instinct. This is not all.
Morality and physics do not always dovetail: when
the latter is right, the former wrong, and vice versii,
would it not, be an'extravagance to wish to establish
parallels? ' t


msmoms or vrnocQ. 9
i
I am not one of those who recede from innovation ;
but in offering a nomenclature of thieves, I act con-
formably to ancient usage. I have preserved to them
the denominations under which they are known to one
another and to the police, since Paris has been suffi-
ciently vast and populated for all species and varieties
to be able to work simultaneously in its circle. I have
been counselled to give, em professo, a nomenclature of
my own, with a terminology either Greek or Latin. I
should then have trodden in the steps of Lavoisier and
Fourcroi; it would have been a path to celebrity; but
all that would have been only Hebrew for the common.
What do I mean by Hebrew? What ails my head?
I was not thinking of the Jews; it is a mother-tongue
this said Hebrew. On consideration, Hebrew would
have done, and Greek also; there are great Greeks
amongst thieves; so there are every where! However,
if it had done me no other service, to call the Cambria-
leurs, for instance, Saladomates (house-breakers), the
the Floueurs, Balantiot‘omistes (cutpurses), I. might have
passed for a Hellenist. The late M. Gail would not
have been a greater than I, by good fortune! But even
then, if I had, like the great chemist, analyzed, or
caused to be analyzed, one of these gentlemen, would
any person have been the wiser, because, aping Messrs.
Gay-Lussac and Thenard, I should have said thus :—
a cambrioleur is composed, sinking evaporated atoms,
of 53.360 of carbon, 19.685 of oxygen, 7.021 of hydro-
gen, 19.934 of azote, so much gelatine, albumen,
osmazome, 8m. Good heavens ! -let us not go look for
noon at two o’clock in the afternoon; and, without
caring for reputation, let us not use words that signify
nothing; let us call things by their right names. I
have found the thieves already christened: I will not
be their godfather. It is sufficient for me to be their
historiographer. -
It is not long since I was visited .by a learned' per-
sonage. A learned personage l—and why not? Have
not I entered on a literary career? Since I commenced


10 neurons or vroocq.
the publication of my Memoirs, I have been visited by
grammarians even, who have offered to teach me
French, on condition that I would teach them slang.
Perhaps they were philologists? Be that as it may;
the learned gentleman came to my house. What did
he want? We shall see. -
He accosted me : “ Are you M. Vidocq T’
“ Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"
“ I have made avaluable discovery, which must inte-
rest you very much."
“ What may it be, sir?"
“ A book, sir—the first, the most useful of books for
you; and which, in duties so painful as those you have
fulfilled, would have saved you infinite trouble."
“ This is mustard after dinner.”
“ It comes somewhat late I own ; but then it has not
seen light these fifty years."
“ And who has kept it so'long under a bushel?"
“ Who? do you ask l—the most terrible of our book-
worms, the late M. Boulard. He used to carry old
books about in his pockets, which were as long and as
large as ahearse. He invented the pockets 5 la Bou-
lard. Ten houses, which he had in Paris, were like the
cemeteries of the dead, in which all that fell into his
hands were pitilessly interred.” -
“ What an amateur of burials l”
“ Ah, sir, it were time he died ! W'hat treasures he
had withdrawn from the world !—what unique copies
did he keep in his hidden stores! This one also is
unique; it is not without some difficulty that I have
exhumed it; but at last I have succeeded, and here it
is—a small tome: De famosis Latronibus. Merlin
and Renouard bid for it like inadmen; but I was at
the sale; I was there, and headed them. It is now
mine! I have it in quarto, as you see. It is thus
entitled, De famosis Lutronibus investigandis, a
Godefrido *. This Godefroid was a knowing person-
"‘ Concerning the finding out of famous Robbers, by Godefrid.


memoms or vmoce. 11
age l—he knew them all, sir! Ah 1 it was a nice busi-
ness for him to smell out a thief! It is in this learned
treatise that he has noted down the fruits ofhis labours.
Your successor, M. Lacour, would give the world to
know his secret l—But it is yours; to you alone that I
will pay due homage; and I have come expressly to
Saint Maudé to offer it to you l"
“ I accept it, sir, and thank you much. But would
you be so kind as to inform me who this Godefroid
was 't"
“ Who he was! Doctor in utroque, contemporary
with the illustrious Pie de la Mirandole, and professor
of judicial astrology in the most distinguished universi-
ties of Germany; judge whether or no he was capable
of writing!"
“ These are high sounding titles, certainly, and very
honourable, but was he ever at the gallies ?"
“ No : but that did not prevent him from knowing
every robber from the time of Eve, who stole the apple,
to the rogue, Ti—ta-pa—prufl‘, who cribbed the car-
buncle of the prophet; there was not a thief whose
prowess and deeds he had not at his fingers’ ends.”
“ And he related them to his scholars, this peda-
ague ?”
“ Related them, certainly : one must be very potent
when possessing all the experience of past ages."
“ Your Godefroid appears to me to have been only
an amateur; besides, if it were not abusing your com-
plaisancc, I would beg you to translate me some por-
tions of the admirable treatise De famosis.”
“ Willingly, my dear sir, very willingly. Teneo
lupum anribus, I have the wolf by this ears. You
will be satisfied, ravished, astonished."
“ We shall soon see.”
We seated ourselves on a bench at the entrance
of my sitting room. I silenced my dogs who were
barking, and the “ learned pundit," began his version,
and I paid the utmost attention.
At first it was necessary to listen to the curriculum


12 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
vita of all the mythological prig-r, Mercury, Poly~
phemus, Cacus; then came the heroic period, filled
with robbers and robberies ; these carried off the trea-
sures of Diana of Ephesus, the flocks of this person,
the heifer of that, and the horse of another. Then, in
the midst of a deluge of quotations, were enumerated
all the larcenies mentioned in Genesis ; the Medes,
the Assyrians, the Romans, the Carthaginians, ap-
peared by turns on the scene of action in due order as
chronology allowed of it. When‘I saw that there never
would be an end of this I interrupted the translator.—
“ Enough, enough," said I.‘_ I,
“ No, no, par Dieu, you must‘hear this. Here is a
dissertation of a very curious nature; it relates to the
two thieves between whom Jesus Christ was crucified."
The author was making a research as to what might
be their names. ’
“ But what avails their names T‘
“ Ah, sir! when we turn to the past, there is no small
research. Do you know that if they could contrive to
learn the name of one of the two, of the good one for
instance, it would create a great commotion at Rome;
for he is, of course, in heaven, the Saviour has told us.
There would be' a canonization. an upsetting of the
legend,a revolution in the calendar, the pope would
never have canonized with greater certainty; he
would have the word of him whom he represents;
what work ! it would be infallible this time."
“ All this is possible ; but I will tell you frankly that
I care not a straw about it.”
“ Ah! I see it; the historical part fatigues you;
you are a man of deeds, M.Vidocq ; let us pass to the
practical part.”
“ Yes, let us pass to the practical part, here I expect
much."
“ You will be content with him."
“ What says your doctor '2"
“ I have it here ; attention. ‘ If you‘ have been
robbed, and would really desire to discover'the author
D


14 nations or vrnocq- .
sary as to the disciples of M. Cousin; faith is still
alive, very lively and robust! After the burning of the
Bazaar Boufllers, did I not see a nosegay of violets on
the walls, to discover whether or not the premises had
been wilfully set on fire? if there had been malice in
the case, the nosegay would catch fire the moment it was
presented to the place where the fire had commenced ;
some witnesses saw the flame, the nosegay was con-
sumed; the fact is authenticated,—it was like the ap-
parition of the cross of Migné.
The pope, cardinals, bishops, archbishops, God himself
uniting with the hilosophers of the age, would not extir-
pate credulity; t e Prince of Hohenlohe would still per-
form miracles, there would be still conjurers,they would
still cast nativities, consultcotfee-grounds, whites of eggs,
dreams, signs,marks, sounds, and wonders. Old Mother
Lenormand, Mad.Mathurin, Fortuné,and all the sorcerers
and sorceresses of Paris, the magnetisers inclusive, would
not be the less resorted to, whenever a robbery was
committed, and most frequently before any declaration
had been made to the police. What is the consequence?
Whilst they have recourse to supernatural means, the
stolen property is lost past recovery; the thief has had
time to take all precautions to avoid detection, and
when, after having exhausted the resources of magic
and divination, they present themselves at the office,
in the little Rue Sainte Anne, to invoke the ministry and
aid of the “ Chef de la S'ureté,” as there is no trace
of the misdemeanour, the investigation is fruitless, and
the plunderer is the only one who can apply, whilst
laughing in his sleeve, that favourite proverb of the
weak and silly, “ Faith alone can save us.”
Ifthe multitude had a little more confidence in my
reliques, than in those of my successor, it was that I
was sometimes incomprehensible to them. On how
many occasions have I not overwhelmed with amaze- '
ment the persons who came to complain of any robbery!
Scarcely had they related two or three circumstances,
when I was immediately in possession of the whole


neurons or vrnocq. 15
facts; I concluded their story; or without waiting for
more explanations, I said, “ the thief is so and so.”
They were thunderstruck; were they grateful? I think
not, for generally the complainant remained persuaded
either thatI had committed the robbery, or that I had
made a compact withthe devil. Such was the belief of
my worthy applicants, that they could not suppose my
information erived from any other sources. The opi-
nion that I was an operative, or rather the instigator,
of a great many robberies, was most general and widely
extended. They asserted that I was in direct relation
with the most expert thieves in Paris; that I had my
information from them beforehand of the robberies they
contemplated; and that if they had been prevented
from informing me previously, for fear of losing a good
opportunity, they did not fail, after a successful opera-
tion, to give me a share of the spoil.
They added, that I was associated in the profits of
their industry, and only allowed them to be appre-
hended at the moment when their activity was no
longer productive to me. They were, it must be con-
fessed, admirable fellows, thus to sacrifice to a man
who, sooner or later, would give them up to justice!
But there is no excess of absurdity which is not ima-
gined in this nether world; but as in the most absurd
idea there may be a faint idea of truth, this brings us to
the point whence we started. Interested, from duty,
to know, as well as possible, all the professed thieves,
male and female, I endeavoured to be informed exactly
as to the state of their finances, and ifI learned that an
advantageous change had occurred lace in their affairs,
I naturally concluded that they had) been levying a tax
somewhere. If the amelioration of their condition
accorded with any notice left at the office, the conclu-
sion was more probable still. Still it was but conjec-
ture; but I had an account rendered to me of the
smallest particular that could in any way enlighten me
on the method of execution adopted to consummate the
crime. I went _to the place myself, and frequently,
c 2


16 usnroms or vrnocQ.
before any search was commenced, I said to the party
aggrieved, “ Be still, I am sure of discovering the
plunderers, as well as their booty." The following
fact, the only one I will adduce, will prove this :—
Monsieur Prunaud. a dealer in curiosities and fashion_
able trinkets, in the Rue Saint Denis, had been robbed
during the night. They had effected an entrance by
force into his warehouse, whence they had carried off
fifty pieces ofIndia muslin, and many valuable shawls.
The next morning M. Prunaud came in haste to my
office, and had not finished the account of his loss, when
I named to him the authors of it: “ It can only have
been done," said I, “ by Bertha, Mongadurt, and their
gang.”
I instantly set my agents to work, to whom I gave
orders to learn if they were spending money in a lavish
manner. A few hours afterwards they came to tell me
that the two individuals on whom my suspicions had
fallen had been met at a notorious place, in company
with Toulouse and Riveraud, alias Morosini; that they
were newly dressed, and that, by all appearance, they
had full pockets, as they had been seen in company
with some girls. I knew who was their fence, ordered
that a search should be made at his house, and the pro-
perty was discovered. The fence could not avoid his
fate—he was sent to the gallies. As for the thieves,
that they might be brought to trial, it was necessary to
obtain evidence by means of a stratagem of my concoc-
tion, which succeeding, they were apprehended and
convicted.
To be at the height of my employment, it was abso-
lutely necessary that I should be able to conjecture
with some justice; frequently I was so sure of my men,
that I not only gave their names and residences off-
hand, butI detailed their precise mode of action, and
indicated the way in which they had proceeded to
complete the robbery. The vulgar, who are ignorant
of the resources of the police, cannot conceive how any
one can be innocent, and yet have so much perspicuity.


mnmorns or vrnooQ. 17
For those who never reflect, the illusion is such that,
without the least malevolence towards me, it was pro-
bable to suppose aconnivance and understanding which
did not exist; but a good half of the inhabitants of
Paris believed that I had the gift of seeing every thing,
hearing every thing, of knowing every thing: and it is
not exaggeration to say that I was, in their eyes, like
the Solitary, and therefore they invoked my assistance on
every emergency, and three-fourths of the times in mat-
ters concerning which it was impossible that I could
afford them the least assistance. No idea can be formed
of the whimsical and ridiculous requests and statements
which were sent to me. It would be necessary to be pre-
sent at one of those audiences, during which the public
were admitted into the Bureau de Sfireté. A coun-
tryman enters.
“ Sir, I was walking in the Jardin des Plantes, and
whilst I was a-looking at the beastes, up comes a gen-
tleman, dressed for all the world as fine as a lord, and
says he to me, says he, A‘nt you from Bourgogne? So I
says, says I, that I be sure enough. Well, he told me
that he was from Joigny, where he dealt in wood. We
found that we were fellow-countrymen, and then he
said we would go and see Ia téte du mort (the death's
head). I assure you he was uncommon civil; I didn't
think there was nothing wrong, and away I goes with
him; and as we were going out of the garden who
should we meet at the gate but some others as he
knowed. One was a dealer in linen."
“ Two of them, were there not? A young and old
man."
“ Yes, sir."
“ The old man had been taking wine at the depot l”
“ Yes, sir.”
“ I see your business; they trapped you 2"
“ “Faith, you are right; three thousand francs they
got from me! a thousand crowns, in beautiful twenty-
franc pieces.”
“Ah, it was gold! Did they not bid you conceal
c 3
it 2"


18 MEMOIRS or vrnoco..
J
“ ’Deed did they, and conceal it» so well that, dash
my buttons, ifl could find it again."
“ Ah ! I know your men. Goury, (one of my agents
to whom I addressed myself,) these must be Hermelle,
Desplanquas, and the Pare de famille, (Family man.)”
Aoenr. “ It has all the appearance of being them.”
“ Had not one of them along nose L“
“ Yes, a precious long ’un."
“ I see I am not mistaken."
“ Oh no l you have clapt your finger on the chap at
the very first time: some people would guess twice first.
A long nosel Ah Monsieur Vidocq! you are a good
fellow, Now I am no longer uneasy.“ -
“ Why r'
“ Since they are your friends who have robbed me, it
will be easy for you to recover my money: only let it
be soon—if possible this very day."
“ We do not go to work so quickly."
“ Why it is, you see, because I must return home.
My house will not go on well whilst I am away: I
have left my wife quite alone; and then, you must know,
the fair of Attxerre is in four days from this."
“ Oh! you are in a hurry, my good man."
“ Yes I am; but listen, we can manage: only give
me fifteen hundred francs now down on the nail, and I
will let you off free for all the rest. That's coming to
the point, an’t it? I think nobody can be more at:-
commodating."
“ True; but I do not make my bargains in this
wa ."
“ But yet it all can be done, if you will agree.”
The Bourguignon having been heard, it was the turn
of a Chevalier de Malta, who had apparently obtained
a dispensation of marriage; for he was accompanied by
his noble spouse, who brought her Bonne with her.
The CHEVALIER. “ Sir, I am the Marquis Dubai's-
velez, an old emigré, and have given unequivocal testi-
monies of my attachment to the Bourbon family."


memoms or vmocq. 19
VrDoco. “ That does you honour, sir; but what may
be your business with me T“
The CHEVALIER. “ I come here to beg you will be so
kind as to have a search set on foot for my servant, who
has made off from my house with a sum of three thou-
sand seven hundred and fifty francs, and a gold chased
watch on which I set a very considerable value."
VIDOCQ. “ Is this all that has been stolen from you ?"
The Cunuuen. “ I believe so.”
The LADY. “ No doubt he has taken other property.
You know very well, Marquis, that for a long time not
aday has passed but you have missed sometimes one
thing, sometimes another."
The Cnnvsuen. “ True, Madamela Marquise ; but
at present let us only talk of the three thousand seven
hundred and fifty francs and the watch. The watch
must be had, whatever it cost me. It suffices to say,
that it was given me by the late Madame de Vellerhil,
my mother-in-law : you know that I would notlose it."
Vrnoco. “ It is possible, sir, that you will not lose it:
but, in the first place, I shall be obliged to you to give
me the names, surname and christian, and the descrip-
tion of your servant."
The CHEVALIER. “ His name! That is not difficult.
His name is Laurent.”
VInoco. " What country does he come from?”
The CHEVALIER. “ I think from Normandy."
The LADY. “ You are wrong, my friend. Laurent is
a Champenois. I have heard him say twenty times that
he was born at Saint Quentin. Besides Cunégonde can
clear up this point.—(Turning towards the Hanna)—
Cunégonde, was not Laurent a Champeriois 'l”
CUNEGONDE. “I beg pardon of Madame la Marquise,
but I think he came from Lorraine. When he had a
letter, it always had the post-mark of Dijon."
VIDOCQ. “ You do not seem unanimous on the place
of his birth; and besides, Laurent is probably only his
baptismal name: and there is 'more than one ass at the
fair called Martin! It will be necessary for you to tell


20 mamoms or vmocq.
me his family name, or at least that you give me so ac-
curate a description of his person that he must be re-
cognized."
The CHEVALIER- “ His family name I I do not know
if he ever had one: those persons seldom have any:
they have usually only what is given to them. I called
him Laurent, because it suited me, and because it was
the name of his predecessor: names are transmitted
with the livery. As to his country, have I not told you
he comes either from Normandy, Champagne, Picardy,
or Lorraine? As to his person, his stature is of the
common size. His eyes—good heaven! he has eyes
like everybody else in the world—like—like you, like
me, like the lady. His nose has nothing remarkable.
His mouth is—-— I have never looked particularly at
his mouth. Ifwe have a servant, it is to wait upon us:
you must know that no one thinks of looking at him.
As well as I remember, he was brown or deep chesnut
colour." ,
MADAME. “ My dear Marquis, Ihave some idea that
he was fair.”
CUNEGONDE. “ Fair as a gypsey, then. He was as
red as a carrot."
The CHEVALIER. “ Possibly; but that is ofvery little
consequence. What M. Vidocq needs to_kn0w, is, that
before the robbery, I called him Laurent, and he must
still answer to that name, unless he may have assumed
another."
VIDOCQ. “Very true: M. de Lapalisse could not
have spoken more oracularly. However, you will agree
with me that to guide me in my search, some details
rather more errplicit and less vague are indispensable to
me.”
The CHEVALIER. “ I know not how to give you any
more accurate. But in my estimation, these should suf-
fice : with a little address, your men will soon lay hands
on the fellow; and they wrll speedily learn where he is
spending my money,’


mamoms or vrnocQ. 21
Vrnoco. “ I should be greatly flattered if I could be
of any service to you; but with such indefinite descrip-
tions how do you suppose I can set out in the affair 2"
The Cnnvsuna. “ Yet I come here with descri -
tion so positive, that you have only, in my idea, to wish,
and you will get hold of the man; it is a job half
finished which I bring to you. Perhaps I have not
told you his age, he may be thirty or forty.”
CUNEGONDE. “ He was not so old, Monsieur le Mar-
quis, he was not more than twenty-four or twenty-five
years of age.”
The Caravan mt. “Twenty-four, twenty-eight, thirty,
forty, it is indifferent.”
VIDOCQ. “ Not so much so as you may imagi‘ne.
But, sir, this servant came to you from some where or
some place. of course he was recommended to you by
somebody 3”
The Cruzvaurza. “By nobody, sir; a driver of a
cabriolet sent him to me, that‘s all.“
VInoco. “ Had he a character 1'”
The Cur-wanna. “ Certainly not, he had none."
Vrnoco. “ He had some recommendation, testimo-
nials ?”
The CHEVALIER. “ He showed me some papers,
but that is all nothing, I did not pay any attention to
them."
VIDOCQ. “ In that case how can you imagine that I
can find the thief? You offer me nothing, absolutely
nothing, which can give me the smallest clue to the
affair.“
The CHEVALIER. “ You are joking, surely, I offer
you nothing! Why for a quarter of an hour I have
been at the trouble 0ftalking to you. I have answered
all your questions. If it be necessary to put the thieves
into your hands, what need is there of police? Ah! it
was not so with M. de Sartines. I need not have told
him the hundredth part of what I have just communi-
cated to you and my servant, my watch, and my money
would have been all forthcoming instantly."


22 MEIOIEB or vmocq.
VIDOCQ. “ He was a great man, M. de Sartines. But
as for me, I do not undertake to work miracles.”
The CHEVALIER. “ Well, sir, I shall go immediately
to the prefect to complain of your careless conduct.
Since you refuse to act, my friends on the right side,
the deputies of my province, shall know that the police
is good for nothing, and they will utter it in the tri-
bune : I have credit, influence, and 1 will exercise
them and then we shall see."
Vrnoco. “ Well, Monsieur le Marquis, go, a pleasant
walk to you.”
To this enraged elderly succeeded a man in a fustian
I coat, who thus spake:
“ Be this here the master of the spies, the chap what
ketches they thieves in such style, eh 1'"
“ Well, my friend, what do you want '9”
“ Why I wants this here, a silver watch which some-
body has done me out on, in a place where I was.”
“ Well, my lad, how did it happen? tell me all that
occurred.”
“ Why then d’ y‘ see, my name's Louis Virlouvet,
a farmer, and vine dresser in Conflans-Sainte-Honorine,
lawfully married to my missus, a father of a family,
with four young ’uns, of which my wife is mother.
She and Icom'd to Paris to buy some tubs, and as I was
a-walking along a-doing nor a-thinking 0‘ nothing, I
comes to a place not far from here, when, saving your
presence, I felt hard pressed to . I stopped before
a wall, y’see, and I unbuttons my smalls, and just as I
was easing 0’ myself, somebody hits me a douse on the
back. I turns round, and who should I see' but a young
lass, who says, says she, What! my lad Theodore! what
is that you, my lad? Come and lets ha’ a buss o'thy
cheek, my darling; and so before you could cry pars-
nips, she kisses me, and then axes me if I’ll go and have
a drop 0’ summut wi’ her. Now, as I am a vine-dresser
ye know, and we vine-dressers are always ready for a
drop, I was quite willing. She tells me she has a
young friend that she‘wants to fetch. Well, says I, go


neurons or vmoco. 23
and fetch ' he, but stir yer stumps and make haste
back d’ye see. Away trots madam and I waits; but as
she did not come back, I got a-tired a-waiting for she,
and a-going to pull out my watch to see what’s o’clock,
I’m d if there was e’er a watch left in my fob!
It had melted like butter in a hot hand. Then, says I
to myself, I'm done, and my watch is gone without
saying good bye. 1 runs as hard as I could the same
way she had gone, but no sight of madam; and the
chaps I asked, told me as how I had best come here,
and that your men would find my watch of silver what
cost fifty-five francs, what I bought at Pontoise, at a
watchmaking man’s, what went like a angel, a-pointing
out the days of the month, with a lock of my daugh-
ter’s hair all done up by herself, nothing was ever more
beautifuller.”
“ Did you look what sort of a woman she was ?"
“ What she that robbed me '2”
“ Why, yes."
“ She is rather old, her youth has past; she is like
the gammon of bacon, neither too fat, nor too lean; she
is between stoutish and thinnish ; she is p'raps about
five feet (French measure) all but eight or nine inches,
thick about her size, with a lace cap, cocked up nose
rather a biggish ’un. Let’s see how big's her nose?
why I’ll tell you; here as big as this weight like a
pear on your papers, to hinder the wind from blowing
them away, or within the size of it by a herse hair, with
a red petticoat, blue eyes, a shell snuff-box of a rose
colour, which was full." '
“ You give me a very singular account ; these are all
false details which you have given me : Iarn convinced
that you were not robbed on the highway; for to have
observed all these details you must have seen the woman
for some time, and that pretty closelg. Come, come,
instead of giving us long stories not founded on com-
mon sense, confess that you allowed yourself to be
tempted into a bad house, and that whilst you were
there, your watch disappeared.”


24 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
“ I see as it is no manner of use to conceal anything
from you. Yes, you are quite right."
“ Then why tell me a false account."
“ Because I was bid to tell you what I did to get
my silver watch back, as cost me fifty-five francs."
“ Can you point out the house where you went with
this woman “I”
“ Certainly; it's a house on the first floor, in a room
with a table, at the corner of the street."
“ Well i’faith you give a very precise account to '
enable us to discover the place.”
“ Ah, so much the better_; I shall get my watch back
again, shall I not sir T’
“ I did not say so, for you have given too vague a
description."
“ What! did I not just tell you that she had red
eyes; I mean a red petticoat and blue eyes, and a
lace cap; is not that clear enough—lace? I do not re-
member the colour of her stockings, but I know that
she had packthread garters, and her shoes tied with the
same; after this you don’t want no dots to your i's;
you know how to go to work. As soon as you give me
my silver watch of fifty-five francs, I will give you a
bottle and ten francs for your comrades to drink."
“ I am mttch obliged to you, but I never work inter-
estedly,”
“ Ah that's all very good and very fine, but the priest
must live by the altar, and every one does by his trade,
you know.”
“ I ask you for nothing.”
“ Yes, yes, but you will get back my watch of fifty-
five francs ?“
“ Yes, if she bring it to me I will send it to you."
“ I rely on you, at least do not go to put me in the
box with the forgotten you know.”
“ Be easy."
“ Well I wish you a very good day, master.”
“ Farewell."
" Good bye till I see you again.“


rrmroms or vrnoco. 25
The vine dresser being dismissed with all the hopes
which his violation of the marriage contract could sug-
gest, I saw one of those good shopkeepers of the Rue
Saint Denis, whose forehead, however insignificant it
may he, reminds one perpetually of poor Acteon.
“ Sir, (said the citizen,) I have come to ask you to
commence a search for my wife, who decamped yester-
day with my clerk. I know not the route they have
taken, but they cannot be far on the road. For they
have carried off booty with them; money and goods,
they have carried off everything, and they may escape!
Oh, if they are not taken, I would rather lose my latin.
I am sure they are still in Paris, and if you commence
a search forthwith we shall catch them.“
“ I must observe to you that we do not commence
our operations without some arrangement; we require
an order for marching: begin by making against
madame your wife and the ravisher, a complaint of
adultery, in which you must accuse the latter of having
carried off your effects and goods.“
“ Oh yes I will lodge a complaint, and whilst I am
losing my time the traitors will get away."
“ That is probable."
“ Such delays when there is danger so near! My
wife is my wife: every day, every night her fault is of
more consequence. I am a husband, I am outraged;
I am in my own right. She will only have children,
and who will be the father? he will not be the father,
I shall. No, since there is no divorce, the law ought
to have foreseen”—
“ Well, sir, the law has foreseen nothing, there is a
prescribed form, and it cannot be dispensed with."
“ Very fine, truly, form and ceremony! if it be so,
well may we say, that forms empty our pockets. Poor
husbands l”
“ I know very well that you are much to be pitied,
butI can do nothing in the affair; besides you are not
a solitary sufferer.“
" Ah, Monsieur Jules, you who are so obliging: do
D


26 marroms or vrnocq.
be so good as to have them apprehended this very day;
take that upon yourself; Ibeseech you do not refuse
me, and you shall find that I am not ungrateful."
“ I repeat to you, sir, that to do what you desire, I
must have a mandate from the judicial authority "
“ Well well; I see but too plainly that they will
deprive me of wife and fortune! Who will they pro-
tect ?—Vice. It is very worthy of the police, certainly I
If it were the arrest of a Bonapartist you would be all
at work : but it is a deceived husband, and no one stirs
a step. It is delightful to see how the police conduct
themselves; so when you see me again it shall be good
for your eyes. My wife may return when she chooses,
and if she is carried ofi" again it will not be to you that
I shall address myself: God protect me from such l”
The husband withdrew, very discontented, and it
was announced to me that an original solicited a
moment’s conversation. He appeared. He had a long
body, long coat, long waistcoat, long arms, long legs, a
face—long, pale, icy, deathly, emaciated face, rising from
a long stiff neck, like the rest of the long figure which
belonged to him. The whole seemed to move on
springs. At the sight of this automaton, his pigtail,
which reached dOWn to his loins, his loose gaiters, his
rumpled shirt, his broad collar, his enormous sleeves,
4 his large umbrella, and his small silk hat, I was con-
strained to do my utmost to avoid laughing in the face
of this personage, so much did his comic air tally with
his grotesque attire,
“ Deign, sir,” said I to him, “ to be seated, and in-
form me of the motive which brings you hither."
“ Mounseer, I hintroduce myself to you from Mister
Lowender *, constable in Bowe street in the capital of
Great Britain ; he recommended me to you, Mounseer,
to find my vife, who is making me a here in Paris
with von Mounseer Gaviani, a Hitalian hoflicer, what
lodged in the public ouse."

* Query Lavender P—TnAusL.


nranrorns or vrnoco. 27
“ I am in despair, sir, to be compelled to refuse my'
aid in such a search. If it be only a search of this na-
ture, I can tell you of a person who, for a certain sum,
will do all that is requisite under these circumstances."
“ Yes yes ; a search varrant—I hunderstands you ;
you make me werry satisfied."
“ Give me, if you please, the name of your wife, her
description, and all the details which appear to you
proper to direct our search."
“ To direct you, I tell you my vife‘s name is Missus
Becoot, ’cause I’m Muster Becoot, of the same family
as my brother who is called Becoot, and our father be-
fore us was called Becoot. My vife and I vas married
in Lunnun in eighteen hundred and fifteen : she vas
andsome; she vas fair; her heyes vas black, her nose
vas helegant, her teeth vite and little ; she had a good
deal of—-front—bussom, and spoke French better than
I do.—-If you find vhere she is, I vill take possession
on her, and conduct her back to Lunnun by the first
wessel."
“ I think I told you, sir, that it was not I who would
undertake the charge of this search; but I will put you
in a way to do it effectually, by introducing you forth-
with to a person who will enter fully into your views.
Givet, go and request the Due de Modene to come
here at his earliest convenience with ‘ 1e Pere Martin.“ "
(The Due de Modene was the nickname ofa secret agent,
a man of good conduct and air, whom I sent to the
gambling houses.)
“ Oh oh i you are a-going to hintroduce me to a
duke. I am henchantedl a duke! a real live duke! If
he can surprise my vife with this here hofl'icer, and git
me the diworce I vants, he is my man of vax.”
“ I will engage that he shall find them together; I
will even undertake that you shall surprise them in
bed, if you like."
“ Oh oh! in bed! that vould be better than the di-
worce. For anrim. con. hevidence nothing is better_than
o 2


28 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
finding in bed together—Ah, Mounseer, I am much
hindebted to you."
The Due de Modene was not long in making his
appearance, and as soon as he entered M. Becoot having
arisen and saluted him with a triple reverence, spoke to
him in these terms :—
“ Mounseer Duke, I vants you to render a service
to a misfortunate husband, who has bin forsaken by his
vife."
The agent, who was not free of contempt towards
the English, did not fail to assume the air of importance
which accorded with the title which had been bestowed
on him. After having arranged with all dignity the
terms for his services, and taken notes of the indications
which M. Becoot furnished, he promised to open the
campaign instantly, that he might the sooner attain
the desired result. The conversation was on this point,
when I was requested by a messenger to attend at the
ofiice of the Attorney-General (Procureur du Roi). I
consequently left M. Becoot, and the audience was
closed until next day. Since I am in the mood for
digressing, before I return to the categories, the reader
may not be displeased to learn the conclusion of this
affair with M. Becoot.
Forty-eight hours had scarcely elapsed, when the
Due de Modéne came to tell me that he had discovered
the retreat of the unfaithful she; she was with her
Italian; and although they were on their guard, be-
cause they had learnt the arrival of the husband, he
was certain that he could detect them in his presence
in the midst of proofs of that horizontal intimacy which,
as far as conviction is concerned, leaves nothing to be
desired. Whilst the due was explaining to me the
stratagem which he proposed to make use of, 'enter
M. Becoot, and, as I had anticipated, he was accom-
panied by his brother, another Britannic caricature.
“ Two make a pair,” observed my agent, aside.
“ Good day, Mounseer Védoc—ah, here is mister
the Duke, 1 hoffer him my politeness."


tumours or vrnocQ 29
“ Monsieur le Duc has great news for you."
“ Ah, ahl great news! You’ve found ’em, eh ?—
You may speak out afore mounseer; mounseer is a
Becoot ; he was my twin-brother. You've found ‘em,
really—found ’em, eh?”
“ Come, Monsieur le Duc, tell these gentlemen what
you have to say."
“ Yes, yes; tell us, Mounseer le Duke."
“ Well, then, Ihave found them; and as you wish
it, I will shew them to you both in the same bed."
“ In the same bed l“ cried M. Becoot's brother,
“ that vill be a vonder of nater! a miracle! You're a
conjurer, mounseer duke."
“ I swear to you, that there is no conjuration in the
matter! It is all a matter of physics."
“ Yes, yes, physic (laughing), ah, ah, ah! rummish
physic, I reckon."
“ Since they sleep together."
“ Yes, yes; nateral, wery nateral, in the same bed;
charming cohabitation! charming!" -
“ Charming!" re-echoed the brother-in law of Ma-
dame Becoot, whose husband, laughing with all his
might, evinced his delight at the fact by contorticns
and grimaces; the most burlesque..
Mrs. Becoot and her lover had lodged for some
months in the Rue Feydeau, at the house of one of
those ladies, who, for their own particular profit, and
the accommodation of strangers, keep a table d’hbte
and an ecarté table; but anticipating persecutions, on
the news of the arrival of the twin brothers, the adul-
terous couple took refuge at Belleville, where a general
known to the lady gave them shelter. It was decided
that they should seek them at this asylum; and as
M. Becoot was in haste, it was decided that they
should hurry on the dénouement.
The next day was Sunday, and there was to be a
grand dinner at the general's, after which, according to
the custom of the house, play would be introduced.
The Due de Modéne, long known as a thorough leg,
1) 3


30 art-moms or vmocq.
had a good pretext for introducing himself at a meet-
ing where the Greeks were admitted without difficulty.
Going to Belleville when the evening drew on, he went
to the salon of the general, and staid there till two
o’clock in the morning, when he went out to rejoin
the two brothers, who were in a hired carriage not far
from thence.
“ Now for it,” said the due; “the couple are be-
tween the sheets."
“ Between the sheets l" cried M. Becoot.
“ Yes, sir, between the sheets; I have almost as-
sisted in putting them to bed; and if you have courage
enough to dare to climb, I will undertake to lead you
to the alcove, when you will only have to draw the
curtain."
“ Vat d‘ye say I—climb! What do you mean 2"
“ We must get over the garden wall."
“ Goddem.’ Get over the wall! Now you see if ve
climbs, the servants will call out thief—No, no; no
climbing for me; and the guns and pistols bang, bang,
pop, pop, over head and heels I shall pitch—and
Mounseer Gaviani will rejoice ! No, no !-—no climb-
ing, my hearty l“
“ Yet you must, if you would have the offence de-
cidedly proved."
“The Becoots, Mounseer 1e Duke, are not fond 0’
running risks.”
“ Then we must seize on the delinquents out of the
general‘s house; that is the only way to incur no risk.
I know that after the breakfast, they will get into a
coach, which will take them to Paris ; what say you to
apprehending them in the coach?"
“ In the coach t—yes, yes, for prudence' sake.”
The Due de Modene, his auxiliary, le Pe‘re Martin,
and the two islanders, placed themselves as sentinels
to watch the departure. M. Becoot asked a thousand
questions, and made a thousand and one reflexions,
more ridiculous each than the other. At length, about
two-o'clock in the aftemoon, a coach stopped at the


narrows or vrnocq. 31
door'; a moment afterwards it was open to Madame
Becoot and her cavalier. We may suppose that at
this sight M. Becoot could no longer restrain his
indignation ;—he did not even frown. Your English
husbands are marvellous men.
“ You see, you see," he said to his brother, “ my vife
with her hinamurato.”
“ Yes, yes, I see. He was in the coac
They found that the vehicle was directed to the Rue
Feydeau. The Englishmen ordered their coachman to
whip along, that they might get there first ; and when
they had reached the Porte Saint Denis, at the spot
where a staircase leads to the Boulevard Bonne Nou-
velle, they alighted. They soon perceived the coach,
which was advancing at a gentle pace. The agents
walked forward to stop it; and M .Becoot, having opened
the door, said, with inconceivable phlegm,—
“ Ah! good day, Mounseer. I beg your pardon,
I've come for my vife, that you have been pleased to
valk off with.”
“ Come, ma'am,” added the brother, “ don’t go to
make him a no more; come along.”
Gaviani and Madame Becoot were perfectly terri-
fied. Without any reply, they both alighted; and
whilst the Italian gave up the contested prize, com-
pelled to obey, the unfortunate lady was pitilessly in-
stalled in the other coach between the two Becoots,
facing the two otlicers. Everybody was silent; when
Madame Becoot, a little recovered from her alarm,cried
from the widow—
“ Gaviani! Gaviani, my friend! he tranquil and
assured that I will only abandon you with life."
“ ’Old yer tongue, Mrs Becoot," said her husband
coolly, “ I border you to be silent, ma’am. You are a
faithless voman, you are a bad voman. Are you so
shame-faced as to call Mounseer Gaviani'! You are a
felon, ma’am, a great felon: I will ’ave you put in the
black-'ole.”
“ You will do nothing.”


82 MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ.
“ I will! I will 2" he stammered out balancing his
head between the handles of two umbrellas, which,
made of bucks‘ horn, formed a singular accompaniment
to his brow.“
“ M. Becoot, all you can do will be useless. Ah!
my dear Gaviani."
“ Gaviani again! Gaviani for ever i"
“I Yes, for ever. I detest you ; I abhor you."
“ You are my vife."
“ But answer me, M. Becoot, are you fitted to have
a wife? You are ugly, you are old, you are ridiculous,
and you are jealous.“
“ I am good reason to be jealous.“
“ You wish to have a divorce, have I not given you
full opportunity? I fly you ; and what more would
you have '.'“
" I want to be a — legally."
“ Would you have the scandal of it ?”
" You vant to—-— me in your own vay: I vant it
to be done in a satisfactory manner in my own vay: I
vant to be a --, with justice and publicly, so as to
get a sentence.” ‘
“ You are a monster in my eyes; you are a tyrant:
I will never stay with you."
“ You shall stay for the present.“
“ You shall not have me alive then ;" and thus me-
nacing, she made a gesture as though to tear her face
with her hands.
“ Ketch ’old on her ‘ands, brother.“ The brother did
hold her hands ; and then, after a brief struggle, she be-
came more composed; but the sparkle of her eye be-
trayed the anger and fire that was within.
Roused, enraged, but handsome withal as much as
passion can be, neat these heteroclite beings—these im-
moveable and vacant faces—she looked like the Queen
of Bacchantes between two baboons, or rather a volcano
of love between two peaks of ice. But, notwithstanding,
the return of M. Becoot to the hotel where he was lodg-
z.


mmoms or vrnocq. 33
ing was a triumph. His first care was to shut her up in
a room, the key of which he entrusted to none: but
when a husband becomes his wife‘s gaoler, it is so
agreeable to her to deceive his vigilance . We know the
song—Malgre’ lea verroum et les grille-r, &c. Spite of
bolts and iron bars, 3w. -
The third day of this conjugal captivity, Madame
Becoot grew tired of her cage. The fourth, I called on
M. Becoot: it was not twelve o‘clock: I found him at
table with his brother facing a plum-pudding, and ado-
zen bottles of Champagne, the corks of which they had
already taken out.
“ A good day, bonnejor. mounseer Vaidoc, you are
werry purlite to come and give us a call. Vat say you
to a drop 0' Champayne i"
“ Thank you ; I never drink fasting."
“ You are not an Englishman then."
“ Well,you are now as happy as possible ; the Due de
Modene has restored you your wife. I compliment
you on it."
“ Compliment ! Goddem, she's hoff agen !"
“ What ! could you not keep her i"
“ She was carried hofl', I tell you, the felon l"
“ Since it is so, do not let us say any more about it."
“ No, say no more about it, drink champagne ; he is
no felon.” '
These gentlemen again insisted that I should keep
them company, but as I was compelled to preserve my
head cool and clear, I begged them to excuse me, and,
after congratulating them, took leave. They certainly
were soon afterwards under the table.
In this way does your genuine Englishman cool his
anger and slake his animosity; they are drowned in
pint bumpers and brimming goblets, and if, when he
sleeps, they call him coucou, and at his waking, point-
ing to him with the finger, say, All, there lie is, he laughs
angrily, and rather than hide. his head, the tipler grows
enraged. He will have an inquiry—gets a divorce.
Whose is the fault? Gaviani‘s? Bergatni’s? the Prin-


84 unmoms or VIDOCQ.
cess's? to the gods who made her so handsome '.' No:
To whom then? To porter, port, burgundy, cham.
pagne—in fact, to Bacchus, under every disguise, form,
shape, and colour.
But why should I seek to penetrate the fog which
envelopes manners not our own? We live on the banks
of the Seine—why trouble ourselves as to what passes
on the banks of the Thames? Perhaps some English
Vidocq will one day teach us. Until then, I confine
myself to the episode of M. Bec00t, whom I never saw
again.
But I return to mes moutons, that is, to my gate-
gories.
The distinction of thieves, according to the line of
business they follow, would be of little import if, at the
same time that I unveil the means exercised by them
to live at our ex ease, I did not point out what pre-
cautions should e taken to place ourselves out of the
reach of their attempts.
If they carried off but a tenth of the superfluities,
perhaps there might be some cruelty in seeking to pre-
vent them from procuring the necessary means of exist-
ence; but as considering the hazard of their mode of
subsistence, between Irus and Croesus (the beggar and
the king,) they do not always choose, but take indiffer-
ently from where there is too much, and where there is
not enough; and as ;besides, they take also to lavish
profusely, I will, without mercy, open my battery upon
them with all my skill, so as to beat down and make a
breach in their industry, and, if it be possible, to put it an
sac, according to the expression of our old Polyarcetes,
I mean the old chroniclers, or rather romancers.
No capital in the world, London excepted, has with-
in it so many thieves as Paris. The pavement of the
modern Lutetic is incessantly trodden by rogues. It is
not surprising; for the facility of hiding them in the
crowd makes all that are badly disposed resort thither,
whether Hench or foreign. The greater number are
fixediconstantly inzthis vast city; some only come like
I


usuoms on vrnocq. 35
birds of passage, at the approach of great occasions, or
during'the summer season. Besides these exotics, there
are indigenous plants, which make a fraction in the po-
pulation, of which the denominator is tolerany high.
I leave to the great calculator, M. Charles Dupin, the
task of enumerating them in decimals, and telling us if
the sum that it amounts to should not be taken into
consideration in the application of the black list.
Parisian robbers in general hate the provincial thieves;
they have, and justly, the character of making no diffi-
culty in selling their comrades to preserve their 1i.
berty. Thus, when by such a circumstance they are
thrown out of their sphere, they do not easily find any
person to associate with; besides, they have a great
predilection for the place of their birth. The children
of Paris cannot separate themselves from their mother;
they have for her a depth of inexhaustible tenderness:
A tau: [as occurs bier: nés, que la patrie est chEre!
Transported to a department, a Parisian thief is com_
pletely out of his latitude. Had he been flung from the
moon like an a'érolite, he could not be more bewildered,
more awkward—he is a cockney, a thorough cockney in
way sense of the word; at every moment he fears to
take a dog for a fox. It is terrible when a man does
not feel his way and know his ground l he knows not
where nor how to put hands or feet, and is, perhaps,
walking on burning coals, ceneri doloso. He dares
not advance a step, because he has a bandeau over his
eyes, and if he should get into a difficulty, no one is at
hand to cry “ Take care ;” on the contrary, they are
amused to see him in peril, because they think him a
coward. If he embark in any plot, they leave him to
finish it; or if in his road he meet a gendarme, never
mind, ill luck to him, bad fortune befal him.
In a small town a thief is completely out of his ele-
ment; he is like a hen with only one chick, like a
fish in a net, 2. fish in a frying-pan; it is not his na-
tural place ; there is too much quiet in a circumscribed
city, too much tranquillity, circulation goes on much


36 manoms or vrnoco.
too regularly, too clearly, much more is he at his ease
in the midst of tumult, confusion, bustle, embarrass-
ment, disorder, and a troubled and muddy stream of
affairs. All these advantages are concentrated in Paris,
in the limited but well-filled department of the (Seine,
inapleriphery of from five to six leagues, in a space
whic would scarcely suffice for the formation of a park
for a great man. Paris is but a point, a dot, a speck
on the globe, but that point is a cloaca. At this point
rally all sorts; at this point myriads of possessors of life
par excellence meet, pass, repass, cross, jostle, disturb,
and live. The Parisian thief is habituated to this hurly
burly, this assemblage; and out of its sphere of action
he wanders vaguely, and his talent is lost, extinct. He
knows it very well, and what proves it incontestably is,
that if he can only contrive to escape from the Bagne.
it is always to the capital that he flies on outstretched
wing ; he will soon again be caught—but what then?
He will have once more worked in his own way, and in
his peculiar element.
Provincial thieves soon enough come to Paris, not
that the climate suits them better than any other, but
they are a species of cosmopolites, who find that place
their home, and that country their fatherland, where
there is any thing to be stolen. Ubi beneibi patria,
(where there are the means of subsistence, there is my
country,) is their motto ; they will accommodate them-
selves equally well when resident at Rome as at Pekin,
if there be plunder attainable. They have neither
agreeable exterior, nor the subtle plans, nor the lofty
demeanour of the Parisian plunderer, and were they to
live for an age in Paris they would always be clowns,
(yokels). Les amis de Pantin (the men of Paris) would
always reproach them with being made of a hand-
ful of blunders, and without resemblance to any
thing that has a human appearance. Their conduct
and manners are their weak and failing points; they
have no urbanity ; and do what they can or will, they
will never be perfumed by that Attic flower whose


memorns or vrnocq. 87
charming odour delights and overcomes the brilliant
and frivolous world, which can only be duped after it
has been seduced. They are destitute of that sharp
wit which, under certain circumstances, gives to the
indigenous thief a decided superiority; but yet they
have more capacity. Beneath a rough unpolished ex-
terior they conceal a share of astuteness and finesse
which, in first-rate enterprises, make them competent
to surmount obstacles opposed to them, and to acquire
the confidence of reflective persons. Consult the ar-
chives of crime, of all extensive robberies, all daring
and deeply-planned plundering, and they will be found
the work and deed of provincial robbers. They are
not timorous, but bold,.persevering, reflective. They
plan well, they execute still better.
The original robbers by profession in the capital are
seldom assassins; they have a horror of blood, and
when theydo shed it, it is always with regret,and under
circumstances unforeseen and unprovided for, into
which they have been involuntarily urged. It is very
rare that they are provided with arms, and they only
use them to escape, in case they are in danger of being
apprehended in the commission of some act of robbery.
The great crimes of which Paris is occasionally the
theatre, are generally perpetrated by strangers. One
particularity is very singular: it is that assassinations
are generally committed by some novice, in the com-
mencement of his career. This is true, perfectly true,
although it may displease those observing moralists
who repeat after the poet :—
Ainsi que la verlu 1e crime a les degrés*.
Before the commission of a bad action, experienced
thieves calculate the consequences of the enterprise
which they are about to undertake. They know the
difficulties they have to encounter, they play because
they must cast the dice; but if it be a question, whether
" Crime has its degrees, as well as virtue.
VOL. IV. ‘ 1;


38 mmroms or vrnocq.
they shall set their “ all" u on the cast, they consider
twice. The code which t ey study, perpetually re-
minds them, “ Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther,”
and a great proportion of them recede before solitary
imprisonment, before seclusion for life, before death.
It is not without intention, that in this enumeration I
place death in the last place; it is the least of dreads.
will prove it so, and then let any one decide how far
our penal laws are properly and fittingly graduated.
Provincial thieves, generally less 'civilized than those
whose education has been carried on in Paris, expe-
rience no repugnance in committing murder; they do
not confine themselves to self-defence, they attack, and
frequently in their expeditions, are not only rash, but
also testify a cruel and sanguinary feeling carried to the
greatest extent. A thousand barbarous traits, noted
down in the judicial journals, can prove what I here
assert.
The wisdom of nations has long proclaimed it as
a truth,that wolves do not devour each other ,- and that
the proverb, though somewhat “ musty,” may not be
belied, thieves have a vast idea of the sentiments of
confratemity. They all regard each other as the mem-
bers of one large family; and although the provincial
thieves and the Parisian thieves are usually but little
disposed to give each other any assistance, antipathy
or prejudice is not carried to any injurious extent.
There is always an understanding which is observed and
respected in these generalities: “ the beast," as would
say a philosopher of the Upper Rhine, “ has a kindly
feeling to the beast of his own race ; the brother likes
to find a brother.” T husthieves have signs whereby they
recognize each other, and a language peculiarly their
own. To possess this language, to be initiated into the
signs, even when you are not of their profession, is
already a claim to their sympathy, and is, at any event,
a presumption that they are with friends. But these,
though more valuable and useful under certain circum-
stances than those of freemasonry, are not an infallible


rumours or vmooo. 89.
guarantee of security, and even if we knew slang as
well as a certain young lord whom I abstain from men-
tioning by his ignoble name, I would advise that no,
exceeding confidence should be placed in such an ac-
quisition. I will tell a short adventure, which I fancy
will prove what I now state: I ask pardon of my
reader if I again interrupt the continuous thread of my
Memoirs to tell a tale, but it is soon said. ,
Pere Bailly, an old gatekeeper of Sainte Pelagic, had
for some months changed his employment for that of
kee er of the De 6t of Mendicity at Saint Denis. Pete
Bai ly was an ol boy, who liked very well the juice of
the grape ; but where is the jailer who does not drink,
particu arly when in good fellowship, and some one
else pays for the liquor? For twenty-five years that
he was in the prison, Pere Bailly had seen many
thieves,. he knew them almost all, and they all had a
regard for him, because he behaved kindly towards
them; he never took advantage of his station, to worry
them as much as possible. Towards those whose purse
chinked well, he aid many little attentions, and we
know what a jaile s “ little attentions” are.
One day the old man had come to Paris to get a
small sum in the way of dividend, which he had ’
amassed by economy during long service. It was the
subsidize senectutis (provision for old age), the ant‘s
provender, the wherewithal to procure the morning's
whet and the dail quid. Payday had arrived, and
Pete Bailly touchedy the money, two hundred francs;
he had it, but going and coming he had swallowed a
few drams, so that when he returned to his post he
was rather gay; that was so much the better, it gave
him vigour, and strengthened his legs.
‘ As he was .walking along in a very happy mood,
delighted at having settled his business so comfortably,
under, the Gate Saint Denis two of his old boarders
accosted him, smacking him on the back.
‘ “ Ah, good day, Pere Bailly l"
“ (Turning round) Good day, my lads!" ‘
' ' ' r: 2


40 nations or vrnocq.
“ Willyou have a drop of any thing standing?"
“ Standing '!—oh,yes, for I have no time to sit down
and take it."
They entered the Deur Boulez.
“ A quartern and three outs, quick and good."
“ Well, my sons, what are you doing 2—how go
matters, eh? Well, I imagine, for you seem flush of
blunt and in good feather."
“ Why, asfor that, we have not much to complain
of; since we left the ‘ Stone Pitcher' business has been
briskish."
“ I am glad on’t; I like to see you happy; but take
care how you get into Queer-street, it is an awkward
lace."
p He had emptied his glass, and put out his hand to
bid adieu ;—
“ What, already '!—we do not meet so often ; and we
will have another go ;—another quartern l"
“ No, no; another time ; I am in a hurry, and must
toddle; and then I am footsore, I haVe run about so
much this morning, and I have a good walk yet before
me to Saint Tenaille (Saint Denis)”
“ A minute more or less," said one of the coves,
“ that won‘t hinder you. Let us go and sit down in
the tap-room; shall we, Pére Bailly 1'" I
“ Why, I can’t refuse you; come, I will go with
you, but tell them to bring in the liquor quickly; one
quartern, and no more; I declare I will not have a
drop beyond that—I make an oath l"
The quartern was emptied; a third was called for,
and entered, and went by the same channel; as did a
fourth, fifth, sixth, and Pére Bailly did not discover
that he had perjured himself. At last he was com-
pletely drunk, and kept saying between every draught:
“ Well, it’s no use talking, I must toddle; it is
getting dark, and that is not all. I have two hundred
francs in my parcel; and if I should be robbed on the
road 3" I
“ What do you fear? therelis not a prig who would


msuoms or vrnocq. 41
do so to you; they know you too well to do that, Papa
Bailly! he can go free any where, Papa Baillyj”
“ I know that ; you are right. If they were the lads
of the Pantin (Paris), I should be known; but green
prigs, country bumpkins, new at the business, I should
in vain make the argon *.
“ Oh, there’s no danger ;—your health, Pére
Baill l“
“ ours ;—-ah, now I am not at all tired, but go I
must; there is no preventing it. Good night, take
care of yourselves.’ '
“Well, well, we are not ambitious to get to your
house in Key street.”
They then helped him to put his stick over his
shoulder, at the end of which was- the parcel contain-
ing the money. Then Pete Bailly, who was careful
about it, takes his departure.
He reached the Faubourg, puffing, stumbling, rolling,
_ balancing, reeling, like a two-penny postman who has
business on both sides of the way, and went by sinu-
osities along, -zig-zag. Whilst he was al habetizing,
and making the letters S Z, and all the ot er crooked
ones in the alphabet, and some nondescript and hiero-
glyphical, the two “ prigs" were consulting as to the plan
they should adopt.
-“ If you take my advice,” said one, “ we will take
the two hundred bob from the old hunks.“
"‘ You are right, his cltink is as good as another's."
“ To'be sure, let‘s follow him.”
“ Agreed.” .
In despite of his losing much ground,Pbre Bailly had
already reached the barrier, and they followed close
astern. Still overpowered by wine he sailed against
3" The arg-on is a sign of recognizance, which corresponds
with what is called the grip in masonic language. It is made
by drawing the thumb vertically down the face on one side of
the nose to the lips. This is accompanied with a peculiar
noise or cracking.
a 8
1


42 mamoras or vrnocq.‘
wind and wave: he had too much sail—more sail than
ballast ; he stumbled, heaved, retrograded, went: crab-
fashion sideways, so much so, that all the coachmen in-
vited him to have a cabriolet.
“ Be off with you, fellows,” said the gracious turn-
key to this offer, “ Pére Bailly has a firm foot and a
good eye.”
He soon had reason to be less proud, for on reaching
the plain of Vertus, he found himself much embar-
rassed. Figure to yourself this worthy of a Gaul in the
clutches of the two thieves, who instantly seizing his
throat, took away his parcel. In vain did he make
the sign which should have served him; du maigre, du
maigre, he bawled out lustily, (password which he
wished them to understand ;) he told them his name:
it is the Pére Bailly; but neither to signs, words, nor
name, would they give ear. “ There is neither fat nor
lean maigre,” (said the thieves, altering the sound of
their voices) “ let go the parcel," and so saying, they
disappeared. .
“ That is rude, very rude,” murmured the victim,
“ but they will not carry it to paradise.”
This prophetic menace was very nearly accomplished.
but between them and justice there was in the brain of
the old man anti-nmemotechnic vapours, and in his
hemisphere, the thick gloom of profound night. Pere
Bailly is dead. I resume the thread of my discourse:
attention! » i I:
It would be impossible to class thieves if they did
not class themselves. First, an individual obeys his
inclination to plunder: he robs right and left; all that
presents itself is fish for-his net; on the principle, the
proverb, “ Opportunity makes the thief,” but your 1e-
gular prig, your downy cracksman, makes the oppor-
tunity for himself, and it is only in prison that he ac-
quires what he requires to accomplish him as a perfect
master of his profession. After having undergone one
or two short punishments, for there is no beginner who
does not ‘ go to school,’ he knows, and is made'to know


MEMOIRS or vrnocc. 48
his own adequacy and aptitude; then, enlightened on
his means, he resolves to adopt a decided class and
branch, and never leave it but ‘ on compulsion.’
Thieves by extraction are, for the most part, Jews or
Gipsies ; encouraged by their parents, they practise in
a measure from their cradle. Scarcely able to use their
legs and feet, they accustom their hands to picking and
stealing, and all mal-practices. They are young Spartans
in whom from ‘ night till morn, from morn till dewy eve’,
is instilled the admirable system of allowing nothing to
escape their clutch. Their vocation is marked ont he-
forehand: they will follow the oblique paths of their
race; guides and lessons will not fail them, but they
arethieves in every department; and that they may not
be ignorant of their peculiar turn of mind and disposi-
tion, they try their hands in every line, and as soon as
they have discovered that in which they excel, they
confine themselves to that, it is their regular and de-
termined pursuit : they have adopted a special business,
and do not wander from it.
Since the deluge, there has been but one Voltaire, he
was a universal man. From the creation of the world,
there has never, perhaps, been found amongst thieves
one with an encyclopedic head: with but few eXcep-
tions, these are very circumscribed beings, and conse-
quently the least eccentric I have ever known. In
fine, each limits himself to collecting the fruits from the
branch to which he appertains: when the branch yields '
but poorly, they glean ; when it is entirely barren, they
pass on to another, but they do not pluck from two
branches at once, and perhaps they would not be
gainers if they did, since each branch is a monopoly;
and monopolists, whatever be their rank, station, or ob-
ject, are too jealous of their prerogatives to allow of any
One’s infringing thereon. Some thieves, however, have
two strings to their bow—two stems'to their tree—as
a certain actress of the Porte Saint Martin would say.
She would be right; these privileged gentry were ge-
nerally married men; the man worked in his departs


44 Manama or vrnocoe
ment, the wife in hers; or else, to make a comfortable
house, they each, with mutual accord, contribute to their
mutual labours.
Some of these worthy professors have adegree of pride.
The swindler, who is a man of the world, despises the
piclrpocket ; the pickpocket, who confines himself to
the practice of adroitly abstracting a purse or a watch,
would conceive himself offended, if it were proposed to
him to ransack a room; and he who makes use of false
keys to procure access to an apartment which does not
appertain unto himself, considers the highway robber
as an infamous and ungentlemanly character".
On the ladder of crime, whether he be high or low,
whether he ascend or descend, man has his vanity—his
disdain. Everywhere, in the most abject conditions of
life, that his I MYSELF may not suffer from vexation
and humiliation, he takes care to ersuade himself that
he is a better man than the one be ore or the one behind
him. That he may inflate himself the more, he reflects,
as concerns the exterior world, solely on the very lowest
class of it. That, at least, does not put him to shame :
he is steeped in mud; but if he raises his head above
the mire—if he sees another dee er in than himself—he
thinks he is on lain ground; t at he governs his des-
tiny, regulates iiis steps, and goes on his way with a
rejoicing heart. This is the cause why- all the rogues
who have not overleaped this mean region of perversity,
in which probity exists but as a reminiscence, have als
ways pride in being less criminal than some others;
this is the cause why, above this sphere, it is, von the
contrary, who shall make the most parade of their in-
famy and crime ; this is, in fine, the cause why, in each
species, even above that mean region in which disho-
‘l' This feeling is not new, nor is the expression of it original.
In our admirable “ Boggars’ Opera," Peachum tells us, in
his opening song, that
“ Through all the conditions of life, -
Each neighbour abuses his brother,” &0.—TBANSL,


rumours or vrnocq. 45
near is more or less considered, there is not a rogue
who does not aspire to be the first of his class,—that is
to say, the most skilful, the most successful, or, what
amounts to the same thing, the greatest knave.
It is well understood that I here allude only to pro-
fessed robbers, who are the regular Cossacks of our ci-
vilization. As to the countryman who steals a truss of
hay, the cobbler who makes false money, the notary who
lends himself to a false signature, or writes a will under
the dictation of a corpse,——they are irregular Cossacks,
from pure chance, who cannot be classed. It is the
same with regard to isolated authors of all deeds to
which they are urged by the turmoil of passion,—hatred,
anger, jealousy, love, avarice, and the fury of frantic de-
pravity. Assassins by profession are the only ones
whom I have given myself the trouble to describe in my
categories: but first, I will “show up” those whose
manners, habits, and hearing are more gentle. The
session commences—show in the Cambrioleur.


46 unions-or vrnocq.
CHAPTER XLVII.
T HE CAMBRIOLEUR.
The costume of the city—The habitual quid—Houses without a. porter
—Curiosity of the lodgers—The midwives' messengers—Waistcoats
and nravats—The trophy of love—Baskets and scuttles—New faea
-—Tremble forSunday—Good advice—Take a stick—Houses with a
porter—Pay your watchmen—Cambrialeun d Iafiun—The fire-work
and the nnsegay—The carouhleur—A short list of suspicious gentry
—Spies~—-Ths naurriueurl—Concesl the openings—Perfidions neigh-
bours—Ohl my line fellow, you are known in spite of your hand-
some mask.
mennrouauns are plunderers of rooms either by
force or with false keys. In the city, that is to say,
out of their habitual profession, it is not difiicult to re-
cognize them. They are, for the greater part, young
_men, the eldest of whom are not thirty years of age:
from eighteen to thirty is the age of a Cambrioleur,
They are ordinarily well-dressed. But be their costume
what it may, if they have donned waist-coat, great-coat,
or close-coat, they cannot divest themselves of a plebeian
air; and at the first glance it may be decided that they
are not gentlemen. They generally have dirty hands;
and the presence of an enormous quid of tobacco, which
they roll about in the mouth incessantly, distorts their
features in a very peculiar manner. They seldom
carrya stick or cane, still more unfrequently do they
wear gloves, although they sometimes have them.
The cambrioleurs do not attempt to clear out a
room before they are in some way acquainted with the
habits of the person who occupies it. They must dis-
cover when he is absent, and if there be adequate
booty. Those houses which have no porters are most
favourable to their enterprises ; when they contemplate
a stroke they go three or four together, who enter and
go up stairs successively. One knocks at the door to
ascertain whether any one be within. If no answer
be given, it_ is a good sign, and they commence opera-


traumas or Vmoco. 4’7
tions; and to be guarded against a surprise whilst they
are breaking the lock or using the centrebit, one of
the gang stations himself on the upper, and another on
the lower staircase.
Whilst they are going on with the opening it may
happen that the tenant goes up or down stairs, and
if he be inquisitive enough to inquire what these
strangers want, he is told that they are going to the lieu
d’aisance, or ask for some name which they know is an
unknown one; sometimes they want a washerwoman,
a nurse, a shoemaker, or a midwife newly established.
We must notice in this case, the questioned thief
stammers rather than speaks; that he avoids looking
in the face of the interrogator, and that, in haste to give
him space to pass by, he squeezes himself against the
wall with his ac]: to the staircase.
A very strange peculiarity is that when a cambrim
leur of renown adopts a style of cravat and waistcoat,
all the confratemity take him for their ‘ mould of
fashion,’ as regards these two vestments; the prevail-
ing colours, are red, yellow, &c.
In 1814, I apprehended a band of twenty-two
thieves, twenty of whom had waistcoats of the same
cut and material; they seemed cut from the same stuff,
and made by the same hand. In general, thieves are
like rostitutes, there is always a something about them
whic betrays their profession : they are fond of a med-
ley of fine colours, and whatever care they take to ape
people of respectability or fashion, the most distinguished
air and demeanour they can assume is that of Sunday-
dressed mechanics. It is to no purpose that they have
their ears pierced, small rings, and a hair chain decked
with gold ornaments, and other gewgaws pressed into
the service; the chain is too obtrusively placed on the
Waistcoat; it is always atrophy of love, and they make
too much parade of it! a velvet hat, with the pile half
standing, half lying down, has much value in their
eyes: I am here speaking only of thieves who are
faithful to the traditions of their trade; as to those


48 neuorns or vrnocq.
who discard it, we can guess at them by manners in
which there is something constrained which is not to be
found in an honest man. This results from the timi-
dity of guilt; it is the awkwardness of an apprehension
of betraying themselves; they see that they are ob-
served, and dread to be so; if they speak, there is in
their conversation a stifl'ness, a shyness, an assumption
of language, frequently comic, as well from the quan-
tity of false concords, as from malapropic burlesque of
words, of which they do not know the meaning; they
do not converse; they chatter, incessantly shifting the
topic, going on at random, diverging from the subject
at every moment, profiting by every opportunity of
changing ground, and ail chances of turning the theme
of colloquy.
Some cambrioleurs are accompanied on their enter-
prises by women, who carry panniers and baskets like
washerwomen, in which they put the stolen property.
The appearance of a woman descending a staircase, or
going through a passage in such guise, is a circum-
stance which excites no curiosity or suspicion, par-
ticularly if we see the female for the first time. The
frequent entrances and exits of individuals whom we
are in the habit of seeing in a particular place, denote
always bad designs.
The most productive days for cambrioleurs are those
fine Sundays in summer, during which the laborious
population of Paris go abroad without the barriers, to
taste the pleasures of the country. The cambrioleurs
will be reduced to a nonplus as soon as we wish.
Let but the persons who have no porters at their house
door leave some one in the room when they go out;
let the tenants, in fact, renounce the fatal system of
isolation, which is favourable only to malefactors; let
them consider themselves as co-interested, and let the
neighbour watch for his neighbour ; let every stranger
that enters, goes out, goes up-stairs or down, be sus-
pected, compelled to give some account of himself, and
if he testify the least hesitation, let him be detained


neurons or vrnoCQ. 49
until he have given all necessary certainty that no rob-
bery has been committed. Let each tenant, in whom
the appearance of the unknown person had inspired
distrust, warn all the other lodgers forthwith that they
may be on their guard; let the person at whose apart-
ment the suspicious he, she, or they has or have knocked
to ask for some name unknown, not content himself
with shutting his door in a rage, but follow the inquirer
and not lose sight of him until he knows that he has
left the premises: let the inquirer, if he have introduced
himself without having knocked or rung the bell, or
without having waited until it was opened to him, be
considered as an evil designing person and treated as
such; in this case the use of a stick is very much to the
purpose—employ it effectually.
Would you rout out and root out the catnbrioleurs ?—
always have the key of your apartment in a safe place,
never leave it in the door within side or without. Are
you going out '.'—do not hang it up any where; lend it
to no one on any account, not even to stop a bleeding at
the "088 *. If you are compelled to be from home some
time, think of some place of concealment, where you
can hide your choicest valuables; the place most ex-
posed is frequently that which is not searched. I would
most willingly put my reader in the safe way, but I fear
that I may give indications to the thieves. It is prudent
not to have always the same hiding-place.
If you have taken the precautions I advise, you can
do nothing better than leave all your keys about on
your tables. If thieves come, you will save them the
trouble of using violence and putting you to consider-
able expense. If there be secret drawers to your secre-
tary, or wardrobes, leave them open, otherwise you will
be exposed to the ravages of Momet'gneur, the powerful
crow-bar, which no locks can resist. Open, open, but
hide, hide, that is the real secret of not being robbed.
Houses with porters would be completely protected
_* Vr'de vol. i. page 199, et seq.-Transl.
r


60 usuoms or vmocQ;
from the species of robbery which I am describing, if
the porters were more employed in fulfilling their duties
than levying a tax on persons who will fee them; but
these porters are a terrible set. In the first place they
are provided with a vast deal of useless curiosity which
is often dangerous; the trum ets of all slanders and
lies ; great improvisatores, cack ers, and blabs, they only
concern themselves about circumstances true or false
which may turn to rofit their m'ania for blackening
characters. Thus w en we wish to deceive their vigi-
lance it is very easy to get or send them away from their
lodge. I have frequently thought of a means of render-
ing porters exclusively attentive to their duties, and this
means I believe I have discovered. It is, in the first
place, to pay them at a mere liberal rate than is now
used ; then to expect from them a security, which, except
by climbing, and one or two other ways, should be an-
swerable for the robbery committed in the houses of
which they were the guardians“
I return to the cambrioleurs, of whom there are two
very distinct varieties; the first is the cambrioleurs (I la
flan (robbers of apartments by chance), who introduce
themselves into rooms without any previous plan or
arrangement. These improvisatores are those who go
knocking from door to door; they are sure of nothing;
when there is spoil they take it; when there is none the
thief loses his time and chance.
' The trade of cambrioleur a la flan is very hazardous
without being lucrative: three-fourths of the time the
play does not pay for the candles. They live at the ex-
pense of the Sunday holiday makers, feast-goers, and
diners out by profession; and whilst to repay himself
for the labour of the week, the honest hard-working
artificer, surrounded by his little family, goes to see the
sight on the water, the distribution of provisions, fire.
works, betakes himself to the admirable representation
of the “Galley Slave," the “ False Key,” the “ Thieving
Magpie," whilst the play seems to him_admirable, or the
thieves excite his laughter, at his housebrigands more


unnoms or vmooq. 51
substantial are doing a bit of business, and after the
pleasures of the day, it is at home that he finds the real
thing has been acted.
The second variety of cambrioleurs is that of carou-
bleurs: they adventure nothing. They procure infor-
mation from the servants, the room-cleaners, bed-makers,
painters, paper-hangers, carpet-makers ; and learning
perfectly the places which can be of use to them, they
go straight to the point. Furnished as they are with
the most accurate information, and most precise indica~
tions, they are never deceived. The greater portion of
their time they use false keys only, which they make
from the impressions they procure from the spies their
accomplices.
The third variety is that of nourrisseurs, so called beq
cause they nurse or nourish their afl'ain. To nourish
an affair is to have it in perspective, and await the
moment for perpetration. The nourrisseurs premeditate
their enter rises long beforehand, and do not attempt
to gather the pear until it be fully ripe. When they
have an affair in view which they themselves have ar'
ranged, or which has been pointed out to them, they
proceed with certainty that they are not entering on a
nullity. If they propose to operate on a man whose
roperty is in the funds, they learn the period at which
> e receives his dividend. Do they determine on making
a descent on a retail shopkeeper; they choose as the time
of paying him and his cash a visit the end of the month
or the first days in January. Under any circumstances
they have positive information, at least as far as con.
cerns their modes of getting access. , _
The nourrisseurs are generally men of mature age;
their appearance, without being precisely elegant, yet
announces ease. They are insinuating and skilful in
contriving to procure access to those houses where they
wish to make a capture. When there are many occu-
pants, they form an acquaintance with a shoemaker, a
washerwoman, or some mechanic near, at whose abode
they present themselves and hold conversations. The
P 2


52 unuortts or vrnoco.
workman doubts nothing; the pretence ofseeing him i:
the cause of the frequent comings and goings.-
There are nourrisseurs who, aving contemplated :
robbery in a house, hire an a artment there. Ther
they are in no hurry; and if a ne op ortunity should
present itself, they do not attem t any t ing before they
ave acquired in their new neig bourhood the conside-
ration necessary to quell all suspicion.. They assume
vast condescension and politeness; the have nothing
on credit; they go to market cash in and; if there
be any noise, it is never in their apartment; they come
home and go to bed early; their conduct is extremely
regular; at a inch they affect great devotion ; the
mother and chiiilren, if there be any, go to mass. In
every country devotion is employed as a mask, but at
Paris, more than any where else, it frequently conceals
evil designs.
Many months pass away; at length comes the m0-
mentw en reputation is established; the nourrisseur has
had leisure to take all his measures; he commences
operations, and suddenly one da it is found that oneof
the lodgers, or perhaps the lan lord himself, has been
plundered of his most valuable property. The rumour
is great, every body is indignant at it, every one is
astonished: the thief must have known the persons.
The cambrioleur is the first to say so. As he has not
failed to send away the stolen goods, and is quite cer-
tain that they will not be found, he advises, he invites
a general search. The next quarter he moves his
quarters, and every body is sorry, he was such a nice
man !


manorns or vrnoco. 53
CHAPTER XLVIII.
The rendezvous—Two notorious thieves—The placard—Speaking too
- much is injurious—The danger of a local memory—A juridical
mistake—M. Delaveau and M. de Belleyme, or the evil genius and
the good genius—Horrible consequences—One reputation is as good
as another—There is a mean path.
To judge by the multitude of robberies, the perpetrators
of which cannot be detected, we are at first tempted to
think that the number of haunts of the kind we have
Spoken of in the preceding chapter is very Considerable,
and besides that, it is a dificult matter to convince
them. However, he who has not discovered it to-day
may to-morrow, for sooner or later impunity has its
termination. I could quote a thousand cases to prove
it, but confine myself to the following :—
M. Tardif, a notary at the corner of Rue de la Vieille
Draperie, was for a long time the point of action of
a band of robbers, amongst whom were the celebrated
cambrioleurs Baudry and Robé. They, passing one
morning before a notary's, saw a bill stuck up, which on
perusal they found to be notice of a room to let; it
suited them, but was not in proper trim. A new paper
was indispensable, and the wainscoat wanted painting,
and to whom should they confide the care of this neces-
sary embellishment? a young painter had been working
in the apartments of the notary, and they sent for him,
and whilst he was pasting the paper and ornamenting
the wainscoat, they talk with him. Unfortunately he
ossessed a memory for localities, and there was not at
I. Tardif's a single arrangement that he did not fully
remember, not a chink or corner escaped him, not
a piece of furniture of which he could not accu-
rately point out the use and situation in the apart-
ment. Without thinking further of it, he supplied all
the requisite information. Six weeks afterwards M,
' ' ' F 3


54 MEMOIRS or vrnoco.
Tardit' was robbed : who were the guilty perpetrators?
no one know! anything about it, and can scarcely form
a conjecture, but people are never betrayed but by some
one concerned about them. One of the thieves, after
having had his share of the plunder, sold his accom-
lices. They were all apprehended and condemned.
hey deserved their fate, and the sentence passed
against them would only have been just, if it had not
included the young painter, whose indiscretion was at
the utmost only imprudence. He received first fourteen
years in irons, which he underwent in the Hague at
Brest.
Afterwards liberated, this man, whom I shall not
name, although the world must declare him innocent,
lives now in Paris. Head of a prosperous establish-
ment, excellent citizen, husband, and father, he lives
happily, and yet it very nearly happened, that the in-
justice, of which he was the victim, was not extended
through the effect of a surveillance contrary to the
spirit of the code, under the control of which he was
sentenced. This surveillance I received the com-
mand to put into execution, but I did not lend my aid
to an abuse of power, which, under my successor, has
nearly arrived at its accomplishment. An arbitrary
power so revolting may suit M. Delaveau to whom it
was so agreeable to act up to the extremest severity of
the laws. Under M. de elleyme, whose accession to
the prefecture has produced so much good, it deserved
to be proscribed, and it has been. Surveillance, I shall
take every opportunity of saying, is a most atrocious
hardship, because a perpetual mark of infamy. Su
pose the liberated prisoner here mentioned had not re-
solved to free himself from it, what would have been
the result? At first he would have been compelled to
come and present himself periodically at my office, then
to have made his appearance once a month at the
commissary of police of his quarter who is his neigh-
bour. From that, persons, who would never have be-
lie ved him to be an old galley-slave, would have thought


MEMOIRS or vrnoco. 55
him a spy in actual work; one character is as good as
the other. Disgraced, despised, abandoned by all the
world, he would have been reduced to die of hunger,
or devote himself to crime for asubsistence. Such are,
for a condemned man, innocent or guilty, the frightful
consequences‘of a state of surveillance; they are in-
evitable: I mistake—between hunger and the scaffold
there is a mean path—Solemn.
CHAPTER XLIX.
arrive from Brest—The good woman-Pity is not love—My first
meal—The father~in-law—The Hrtrle in and the penillade—Sup-
pers in the Rue Grenétat—My cambn'a cure—I ally myself to ‘ clean
out‘ a pawnhroker—Annette appears in the horizon—Great discom-
fitnre—I fall sick—A theft to pay the apothecary—Henriette pays
for the broken pots—I see her ngain—A fugitivehHe gets the as-
sistance of the guer to carrv off the treasure of the police—Unjust
srispicionw—The fugitive is betrayed—Memorable words—A colos-
ual reputntion—The chef-d'muvre of the kind—Hang yourself, bravo
Crillonl—Go to England and they will hang you.
it
Tun mistress of a thief named Charpentier, but better
known by two nicknames, La tache de vin, and the Tru-
meauax, had been betrayed with him, as guilty of rob-
beries by the help of false keys. Although her lover,
of whom she was the accomplice, had been sentenced
to the gallies, she, for want of proof, was acquitted.
Henriette, for that was her name, was connected with
Rosalie Dubost, and no sooner had she recovered her
liberty, than she associated with her to commit fresh
robberies in chambers. But many declarations made
to the police, soon attracted its attention to the two
friends. Henriette lived in the Rue Grand Hurleur.
I received a command to watch her, and having ar-
ranged my method of making acquaintance with her,
I met her one day at the door of her house and thus
accosted her.
“Ah, stop," said'I; “well met, nothing could be bet-
ter, I was going to meet you,”


56 unmoms or vrnocg.
“ But I do not know you.” ' .
“ Do you not remember that I have seen you with
Charpentier at the lie dAmour P"
“ Possibly."
“ Well! I have just arrived from Brest, your man
sends remembrances; he would willingly have joined
you, but the poor devil is amongst the suspected, and
it is more difficult to escape than ever.“ . v .
“ Ah mordié! I remember you well now: I per-
fectly recollect that we were together at La Chapelle
at Duchesne’s when we were having a lark with our
friends." _ '
, After this recognition, which was all I wished, I
asked Henriette if she had any “job in view.’ She
promised me marvels and miracles; and to prove to me
how desirous she was of being useful to me, she pressed
me with a great earnestness to instal myself at her
house. The offer of partaking her domicile was made
so heartily that I could not but accept it, Henriette
lodged in a small room, the whole furniture of which
consisted of one chair and a flock bed, with a woollen
mattress, the‘appearance of which did not invite one
to repose. She instantly led me to this retreat.
“ Sit down," she said, “ I shall not be out long: if
any person knocks,do_not answer."
it fact, she had not long been absent, when I saw
'her enter carrying a bottle in one hand, and in the
other two pieces of bacon and a loaf. It was but a
sorry repast that she offered, but no matter, I pretended
to eat with appetite. The meal ended, she told me
that she was going to see her man’s father, and begged
me to sleep until she returned. As it was necessary to
appear in want of sleep, I cast myself on the bed, which
was so hard that it appeared like a sack of nails.
Two hours afterwards, the father Charpentier ar-
rived, who embraced me, wept, and spoke of his boy.
“ When shall I see him again?" said he, and his
tears flowed again.
But how deep soever‘grief may be, it is necessary


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 57
sometimes to dry our tears; the father Charpentier
dried up his, and proposed that I should go and sup with
him at the Sauvage, at the barrier de la Vilette. “ I
will go and get some cash,” said he, “ and we will
start."
But people have not always at hand the money
they want. Father Charpentier, who, doubtless, had
been mistaken in his hopes, did not return till evening,
when he brought the moderate sum of three francs,
fifty centimes, and an arleq'uin‘, which he had purchased
as he came along in the Rue Saint-Jean. It was in a
handkerchief begrimed with snufl‘ that he had placed
this disgusting gallimaufry, and laying it at the foot of
the bed, he said to Henriette, “ Here, my girl, take it,
cash is low to-day, we will not go to the barrier, but
go and get us two quarts of wine at sixteen sous, a
loaf, two sous worth of oil, ditto vinegar, to make a
perrillade, (at the same time looking at the arlequin
with the eyes of a sensualist): there are some famous
cuts of beef there, he observed; “ come, run my lass,
and return quickly.”
Henriette was active, and did not keep us waiting.
The vinaigrette was soon ready, and I pretended to
lick my fingers at the sight of it. When we return from
there, we must not be hard to lease, so whilst we
were dispatching it, the father sai to me:
“ Well, my lad, if thou hadst had such at the pré,
(Bagne) every day would have been a Sunday with
thee.”
With cocks of the same feather, a quarter of an
hour roduces close intimacy. Before we opened the
second bottle, I was with Henriette and her father-in-
law, as if we had not been separated for ten years.
' They call arlequi'nr small lumps of mixed meats, which
they sell in the market for the cats, dogs, and poor. 'They
are the relics collected from the plates of the rich, and from
the restaurateurs.


68 MINORS or vrnoco.
The man was an old scoundrel, a fellow for any thing,
had he still been capable of doing. I agreed with him
that he should put me on terms with some friends, and
the next day he brought me one Martinot, called the
Estomac de Poulet. He came to the point with me,
and talked of a little affair which would help to start
me again.
“ Ah !" said I, “I will not expose mySelf for such
trifling booty : I think this is not worth the risk.”
“ In that case," replied Martinot, “ I have what
will suit you, but it will not be ripe for a few days; the
keys are not made ; as soon as we have them, you shall
join us, you may rely on it.”
I thanked Martinot, and he brought to me three
other “ prigs" who were to work with us. I began to
be somewhat fearful, lest I might be brought in con-
tact with some one who would disconcert my projects,
and I took care not to go out with my new party. I
remained with Henriette during the greater part of the
day, and in the eVening we went together to the cor-
ner of the Rue Grenétat, to a vintner's, where we spent
thirty sous, which she had earned at glove making.
,_ Annette could serve me in this intrigue in which I
had embarked, and I resolved to give her a part to play,
,if need might be. I went secretly to tell her, and in the
evening when we entered the cabaret, we saw seated
alone, at a table, a female who was just about to su .
It was Annette. I looked at her with a kind of curi-
osity. She did the same. I asked Henriette if she
knew the person who examined us so attentively.
“ I know nothing of her,” she replied. “ It is at me
then she is looking: I have some idea of having seen
_her somewhere, but do not remember where.” _ .
That I might ascertain the point, I acmsted the
stranger with “ Pardon me, madame, but I think I
have the pleasure of knowing you.“
_ “ Really, sir, I was thinking who you could be,
That, said I to myself, is a face I have seen somewhere.
Have you ever lived at Rouen 2"


stations or vrnoco. 59
1
' “ Good heavens l" I exclaimed, “is it you, Jose-
phine I—and your man, dear Romain?"
“ Alas 1" said she sobbing, “ he is sick at Canelle,"
(in confinement at Caen).
“ How long 1’”
“ Three months, and I am afraid he will not soon
get away ; he has 'a high fear, (imprisoned on a serious
affair); and you are well, (free) it appears?"
“ Yes, well, but who knows how soon I may fall
sick again '.'“ a
i “ Let us hope-not."
' Henriette was enchanted at the amiable appearance
of the lady, and was desirous of her company. At last
we all agreed so well, that we resolved to be hence-
forward like the fingers on a hand, like three heads in
one cap, or three bodies in one shirt, The pretended
Josephine, at the conclusion of an affecting tale which
drew tears from Henriette, told us that she was lodging
in a furnished house in the Rue Guerin, Boisseau.
After we had exehanged addresses, she said to me,
“ Ah! now hear me. You know that once you obliged
my lad with a twenty franc piece, and it is but just
that I should now return it to you."
I made some difficulty about accepting the twenty
francs, but at length consented, and Henriette, whom
this proceeding'touched more than even the tale she
had heard, entered into a long conversation with the
honest moiety of my friend; the conversation turned on
myself.
“ Such as you see him,” said the ci-devant spouse of
Charpentier, pointing to me, “ I would not exchange
him for another, though he were ten times handsomer.
He is my poor rabbit: we have been together these
ten years, and, would you believe it, we have never had
the slightest word 1'"
Annette played her portion of this comedy to admi-
ration. Every evening she was punctual to the ren-
dezvous, and we supped together. At length the mos
'ment arrived when we were to perpetrate the robbery;


60 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
in which I was to join. All was ready. Martinot and
his friends were prepared. It was the room of a money-
vender which they proposed to empty. They told me
the s ot, in the Rue Montorgueil, and the very house
they had fixed on to make their entrance. I gave Annette
the requisite instructions, that she might warn the
police ; and that I might be sure they attempted nothing
without me, I neither quitted them nor my dear Hen-
riette. -
We started on the expedition. Martinot went up,
opened the door, and came down again.
“ We have nothing to do but to enter," said he; and
whilst he and I remained on the look out, his comrades
ran up to get the booty for themselves and us, at the
expense of the usurer. But the agents were at their
heels; I saw them, and at the moment determined to
do something which would distract Martinot's atten-
tion, and make him turn his head another way.
The three thieves, surprised whilst they were break-
ing open the locks, cried out, and we took to our heels.
Martinot having carried off the keys, his companions
thus escaped the punishment of fetters, for it was pro-
bable, according to their custom, they would allege they
had found the door open ; it was necessary therefore to
have Martinotapprehended with the keys on him, as well
as to establish his connexion with the criminals they had
already apprehended. It was to effect this that An-
nette was of the greatest use to me. Martinot was esized
with all the necessary proofs for his conviction, without
Henriette’s conceiving the slightest suspicion; she only
saw thatI was very happy, and that gave me an additional
title to her love. When the sentiment with whichlin-
spired her was at its highest, I had to put it to the test by
an illness at command. I could not recover my health
but by the purchase of medicines, the price of which
were not proportioned to our pecuniary means. Hen-
riette insisted on procuring them, and, “ on hospitable
thoughts intent,“ premeditated a little bit of priggery,
(t In cambrioleuse, which she_entrusted to me. Rosalie


merroms or vrnocq. 61
Dubost was to aid her; the robbery was attempted,
and the execution of itjwas commenced. But I had
quenched the match. Henriette and her friend under-
went the consequences of being caught in the very fact,
and were both sentenced to ten years of hard labour.
At the expiry of her sentence, Henriette came to my
house en surveillance; she might with justice have re-
proached me, but never did so.
Henriette, Rosalie Dubost, and Martinot were poor
cambrioleurs, but there are of this class thieves of in-
credible efl'rontery; that of one Beaumont almost sur-
passes belief. Escaped f'rom the Bagne at Rochefort,
where he was sentenced to pass twelve years of his life,
he came to Paris, and scarcely had he arrived there, where
he had already practised, when, bylway of getting his hand
in, he committed several trifling robberies, and when by
these preliminary steps he had proceeded to exploits
more worthy of his ancient renown, be conceived the
project of stealing a treasure. No one will imagine
that this treasure was that of the Bureau Central (Central
Office), now the Prefecture of' Police ll It was already
pretty difficult to procure impressions of the keys, but
e achieved this first difficulty, and soon had in his pos-
session all the means of effecting an opening; but to
open was nothing, it was necessary to open without
being perceived, to introduce himself without fear of
being disturbed, to work without witnesses, and go
out again freely. Beaumont, who had calculated all
the difficulties that opposed him, was not dismayed.
He had remarked that the private room of the chief
officer, M. Henri, was nigh to the spot where he‘ pro-
posed to effect his entrance; he espied the propitious
moment, and wished sincerely that some circumstance
would call away so dangerous a neighbour for some
time, and chance was subservient to his wishes.
One morning, M. Henri was obliged to go out.
Beaumont, sure that he would not return that day, ran
to his house, put on a black coat, and in that costume,
which, in those days, always announced a magistrate,
G


62 msuonts or vmocq.
or public functionary, presents himself at the entrance
of the Bureau Central. The officer to whom be ad-
dressed himself supposed, of course,that he was at least
a commissary. On the invitation of Beaumont, he gave
him a soldier, whom he placed as sentinel at the en-
trance to the narrow passage which leads to the depot,
and commanded not to allow any person to pass. N 0
better expedient could be found for preventing surprise.
Thus Beaumont, in the midst of a crowd of valuable
objects, could, at his leisure, and in perfect security,
choose what best pleased him: watches, jewels, dia-
monds, precious stones, &c. He chose those which be
deemed most valuable, most ortable, and as soon as
he had made his selection, he ismissed the sentinel, and
disa peared.
T is robbery could not be long concealed, and the
following day was discovered. Had thunder fallen on
the police, they would have been less astonished than
at this event. To penetrate to the very sanctuary !—
the holy of holies! The fact appeared so very extraor-
dinary, that it was doubted. Yet it was evident that a
robbery had taken place, and to whom was it to be
attributed? All the suspicions fell on the clerks, some-
times on one, sometimes on another, when Beaumont,
betrayed by a friend, was apprehended, and sentenced
a second time.
The robbery he had 'committed might be estimated
at some hundred thousand francs, the greater part of
which were found on him.
“ There was wherewithal," he said, “ to become an
honest man; I should have become so; it is so easy
when rich! yet how many rich men are only scoun-
drels 1"
These words were the only ones he uttered, when he
was apprehended. This surprising thief was conducted
to Brest; where, after half a dozen escapes, which only
served to make his subsequent confinement more rigo-
rous, he died in a frightful state of exhaustion.
. Beaumont enjoyed amongst his confraternity a


.MEMOIRS or vmocq. 68
colossal reputation; and even now, when a rogue boasts
of his lofty exploits—
“ Hold your tongue,” they say, “ you are not worthy
to untie the shoe-strings of Beaumont l"
In effect, to have robbed the police was the height of
address. Is not a robbery of this nature the chef-
d'wuure of its kind, and can it do otherwise than make
its perpetrator a hero in the eyes of his admirers?
Who should dare to compare with him? Beaumont
had robbed the police!!! Hang yourself, brave Cril-
lon! hang yourself, Coignard! hang yourself, Per-
truisard! hang yourself, Callet l—to him, you are but
of Saint-Jean. What is it to have robbed states of
service? to have carried off the treasure of the army of
the Rhine? to have carried 06‘ the military chest?—
Beaumont had robbed the police! Hang yourselves l—
or go to England, they will hang you there.


64 memoms or vinocq.
CHAPTER L.
Capdeville, or Monsieur Proteus—The false farmer-general—Sim li<
. city of M. Seguin—‘ Hay in the boots’—The widow well guarde ~—
Pnrsevernnce—Monsieur Fimal—A walk—The lover of nature—-
The fortunate country l—The universal panacea—The fountain of
jonvence—One pinch, two pinches ; how to make use of them—Mirn-
culous virtues of the taute-bonno—Great herborization—‘ Culling of
simples'—l lhallhe ROIlél'hThe Circé of Saint Germain—Stop
thiefl murder! gunrdl firel—A hole—A greet disoovery—Disap»
pointment of a broker—The candid avownl—Look to your arm-
chairs.
ONE of the most adroit cambrioleurs was Le petit
Godet, alias the Marquis, alias Durand, alias Capde-
ville; and it would be an endless undertaking were I
to recapitulate here all the names and all the forms he
has assumed in the course of his long career. He was
by tums,merchant, rivateer, emigrant, remit-1"”, &c.&,c.
After having playe one of the most prominent charac-
ters in the bands that so long infested the south of
France, he had betaken himself for refuge to Rouen,
where, in consequence of a robbery attributed to him,
he was recognized, and sentenced to the gallies for life.
It was the seventh or eighth time he had been con-
demned.
Capdeville had, as his principal henchmen, three
other thieves, Delsone, Fiancettc, and Colonge, whose
names deserve to be cited in the general history of
arrant knaves.
He had embarked very young in his profession; and
nearly sixty, he still carried it on. He was a respect-
able looking man: large stomach, good face, expe-
rience of the world; nothing failed him that could
inspire confidence at first sight. He had, moreover,
considerable tact; and knew well the power of habit.
* A person possessing an income arising from the renter
orfunds.


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 65
To say that his appearance was that of a farmer-general
or tax-contractor, I ought not to have seen the illus-
trious M. Seguin in all the simplicity of his costume.
That I may lead no person into error, I renounce the
comparison, and imagine that I shall be understood
when I have related that this crafty rogue had all the
satisfactory appearance of those particular, elderly
worthies, whose neat and precise dress leads us to
believe that they have made the most of their oppor-
tunities,-—qu’ils ont dufoin dune Ieurs batter.
Few cambrioleurs were more enterprising, or en-
dowed with greater perseverance. One day the idea
occurred to him of robbing a rich widow, who lived at
Saint Germaine-en-Laye, Rue du Pateau Juré. He
first explored the approaches of the place, and in vain
attempted to get access. He excelled in making false
keys; but false keys are not chance work, and he
could not by any mode procure the shadow of the im.
pression of the keys. Two months elapsed in fruitless
attempts; any other man but Capdeville would have
abandoned in despair an enterprise which presented
so many apparently insurmountable difficulties; but
Capdeville had said, ‘ I will succeed,‘ and he would
not have it said that he lied. A house contiguous to
that of the widow was occupied by a lodger; he con—
trived to get him sent away, and soon installed himself
in his place.
, Monsieur Fie'rval was the new neighbour of the
widow. By Jove! say the people in the vicinity, he is
not like his predecessor; he has magnificent furniture;
and it is easy to see that he is somebody. He had dwelt
there about three weeks, when his lady neighbour, who
had not taken the air for a long time, determined 'on
taking a walk, and went into the Park, accompanied
by Marie, her faithful servant. Just as she had ten
minated this pastoral excursion, she was met by a
stranger in the attire of a disciple of Linnaus and
Tournefort, who accosted her, holding in one hand his
at, in the other a plant. ._ , _ v . .-
' o 3


66 neuorns or vmocq.
“ You see, madam, before you a lover of nature, of
that lovely nature with which all noble and tender souls
have been captivated; botany, madam, botany is my
passion l—it was also that of the sensible Jean Jacques;
of the virtuous Bernardin Saint Pierre. After the
exam le of those great philosophers, I ‘ cull simples ;’
and ifJ I do not deceive myself, I shall be fortunate
enough to meet with some in this province extremely
valuable. Ah, madam, it would be indeed desirable
for the benefit of humanity that all the world knew
the virtues of this. Do you know this herb ?"
“ Really, sir, it is not very rare inthe environs ; but
I confess my ignorance of it: I neither know its name
nor its qualities.” -
“ It is not very rare, do you say? Oh fortunate
country! It is really not scarce? Would you be so
very obliging as to tell me the places where it grows in
the greatest plenty T"
“ Willingly, sir ; but be so kind as to tell me the use
of this herb ?”
“ Its use, madam I For every thing—it is a real trea-
sure, an universal panacea. With this herb there is no
occasion to make medicines : taken as a decoction, the
root purifies the mass of the blood, drives away evil
humours, promotes circulation, dissipates melancholy,
gives supp eness to the limbs, play to the muscles, and
cures all complaints to a hundred years old. As an in-
fusion, the stalk performs wonders: a handful in a bath,
and continue the use of it, you will have discovered the
fountain of Jouvence; the leaf on a wound cicatrizes it
instantly.”
“ And its flower?"
“ Ah, its flower! Here, madam, is reason to bless
Providence, if ladies but knew its powers: it is a flower
of virginity, and with it there are no widows.”
“ It would make me find a husband l”
“ Better than that, madam; it would make you as
though you never had one : one pinch, two pinches,
three pinches, and the thing is done,"


. MIMOIRS or vrnocq. 6’7
" What a wonderful flower !"
“ You have reason to call it so: but in addition, it
is possible to make a philtre of it of a most powerful
nature against indifference in the matter of marriage." ,
“ You are joking, sirT'
“ No', madam; Heaven preserve me from so doing!
A lotion on the one hand, a beverage: the whole secret
consists in the mode of preparation, and the manner of
using it.”
“ Would it be an improper or rude request to ask you
for the receipt 1"
“ Not at all, madam : ask, and I will with pleasure
tell you all you desire to know."
“ Ah! first tell me the name of this valuable simple."
“ The name, madam, is simply the touts-bonus,
which we call also the bonne 1‘1 tout." _
“ Marie, the bonne d tout, do you hear? You must
remember it—the bonne d taut. If we conduct this
gentleman to the further end of the park, I think they
grow there in abundance.”
“ If it were not so far, I would take you where it
grows in abundance—there are quantities, large quan-
tities of it. It is like dog’s grass: I have sometimes
gathered large armfuls. See how little one knows: it is
that perhaps which rabbits—— But, sir, perhaps you
would not like to go so far 2”
“ I would go to the end of the world, only that Iam
fearful of abusing your complaisance."
“ Oh ! do not fear that, sir,—do not fear. I shall be
sufficiently paid, since you will consent to go."
“ Oh yes ! that'is right. I did not think "
Marie guided the culler of simples ; who on the road
explained tothe lady how to make infusions, decoc-
tions, applications, lotions, and the sublime matrimonial
essence. At length they reach the spot : never did
botanist behold in such quantities the plant whose
merits he had so greatly expatiated upon. He was
transported with joy, enthusiasm, pleasure; and when
he had been in extacies for a pretty-considerable time,


68 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
he began to gather it. The lady made her collection
too, of which Marie took charge. They herborized to
such an extreme, that in less than twenty minutes the
poor girl bent under her burden, but did not complain.
he proposed to herself even to return then; for Marie had
not lost a word of the pharmaceutical lesson, and was
not less desirous of trying its virtues than her mistress.
Deceived by two soldiers, one after the other, she was
looking out for a third ; and then they talked of having
arosiere at the next fete of the patron saint, and the
choice should fall on her. Under these circumstances,
if Marie is not crowned, she might certainly, without
blushing, have got her hat ready, and have formed the
happiness of her lover by a marriage without precedents.
This hope gave her strength. Madame exerts herself
amazingly, and the herborization is quickly terminated ;
then the botanist and the widow separated, after having
exchanged compliments. The botanist flew away'with
new discoveries; and the Circé of Saint Germain en
Laye regained her home with her servant,-—proud of
bearing, for the first time, abundle of hay full of beauty,
health, wisdom, charms, enchantments, Szc.
They reached the house. So long a walk had created
an appetite in the lady.
“ Quick, quick, Marie, bring in the tray and let us
have dinner.”
_“ But, madam, there is nothing ready.”
“ Never mind, we will eat some cold meat. Bring
the cold chickens of yesterday, and fry me a whiting or
two." .
Marie, who was no less hungry than her mistress,
hastened to execute her orders.
“ Ali 1 Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu !" -,
“’Marie, do not cry out in that way : you quite startle
me.“
“ Ah, madame l" '
l “ What, ails you, Marie? Have you broken your
e 2?,
gf‘ The plate—--"


unuoms or vinocQ. 69
“ Well, the plate.”
“ We have been robbed!”
“ You are mad l”
“ I swear it.”
“ Hold your tongue, you careless girl. When wash-
ing your silver, you left a spoon behind you in the
water. If I come, I will be bound I will lay my hand
upon it."
“ Ah, madam l they have all been taken.”
" What say you 1'”
“ Can you believe it? They have all been carried
off!”
“ All carried off! Are you sure of it—all carried off“!
You are crazy, my poor Marie !"
On saying this, the widow rose angrily, ran to the
drawer, and, pushing Marie away somewhat roughly—-
“ Get away, you foolish thing. Good heaven ! what
a misfortune! Oh, the wretches! oh, the villains! oh,
the infamous creatures! But stir yourself, Marie! stir
yourself! you stand there like a mummy. So she won’t
move, the stupid wench ! what! does nothing but milk
run in your veins!"
“ Yes, madam, but what would you have me do '!”
“ This is one of your stupid doings. I told you fifty
times to shut the door, and whilst you just turned your
back they entered at the dining-room. That is the
way. On our return the safety-bolt was not as when
we left it. As for me, I will undertake that no one
shall ever rob me. It should never be my fault. When
I go out or when I come in, my keys never leave my
side; but you !—Six thousand francs value of plate !—
a pretty day‘s work you have made of it. I cannot
think what has come to you. There, get out of my
sight, get out of my sight, you dolt, when I tell you.”
Marie, thunderstruck, went into the next apartment,
but returned in an instant, crying out—“ Good heavens !
your room has been forced, the secretary is broken
open, and every thing is topsy turvy."
The widow hastened to see if Marie had not, deceived


unmoms or vrnocq. 71
“ What is that?"
“ It is, that I did not put four times as much more in
his arm-chairs: but they may open the cushions, and
if they find a single hair ” '
From this regret springs 21 great truth ;-—that all cul-
lers of simples are not in the park of Saint-Germain.
If our horses have short tails, it is not owing to the
brokers in the Rue de Cléry; if they have long and
sharp teeth, it is another thing. These gentlemen have
raised the price of forage.

CHAPTER LI.
A visit to Rouen—Dis st of the world—Whims of a misanthrope—
Choice of a solitu e—Poets and hermits, 1mm :eczlmm et otia
qwnmt.—Plan of an excursion-Strauge scruplo—TThe love of ya-
trimony—The feigned departure—The danger of drum at Paris—
The impressions and false keys—He returns not—In w om can we
place confidence ?
CAPDEVILLE, after having despoiled the widow, went
direct to Rouen, but speedily returned to Paris. How-
ever, he did not fix his residence there. A prey to
domestic vexations, disgusted with the world and its
.perfidies, discontented with his health, himself, and
others, Capdeville was a misanthrope, who anxiously
desired to bury himself in the country, and with this
intent traversed the environs of the capital. At Belle-
ville he saw a house, whose insulated situation suited
his love of solitude. It was in the shades of this place
that henceforward he would seek to feed his melancholy,
and breathe forth the sighs of a stiflering and oppressed
soul.
Capdeville hired an apartment in the house on which
his looks had so affectionately reposed : but a misan-
thrope cannot long preserve his solitude under the
I
I


72 summons 01" vrnocQ;
same roof with other human beings. He needs ahouse
where he can be in ignorance that any living being is on
earth‘s surface but himself. This he felt,and in conse-
quence felt a desire to procure it at any rate: no mat-
ter how high the price, provided that he sees no vestige
of that society of which he has so much reason to com-
plain. He will put up with any thing,—a castle or a
cot.
Capdeville published his intention of going out to
discover an hermitage where he could pass his latter
days in peace. He inquired of all the country ro-
rietors who had places for sale within a circuit 0 six
eagues, and it was soon known through the country
that he was on the look-out for a lace of the kind.
Everybody knew, of course, something that would suit
him, but he would have only a patrimonial estate.
“ Well, well," said they, “ since he is so scrupulous,
let him look out for himself.” This, in fact, he did.
Determined to make a tour, to examine what was
most likely to suit him, he employed himself osten-
sibly in preparations for his de arture ; he was only to
be absent three or four days, but before he departed,
he was anxious to know if there was no danger in
leaving a secretary, in which were ten thousand francs,
which he did not wish to take with him. Being
assured on this point, and full of security, he did'not
hesitate to set out on his proposed journey.
Capdeville did not go to a very great distance.
During his sojourn in the house he had just left, he had
had time to take impressions of all the keys which
were requisite for his entrance into the dwelling of the
landlord, who he knew was in the habit of dining in
Paris, and did not return very early in the evening.
By being there at dusk, Capdeville ,was certain of
having before him all the time necessary for carrying-
on his operations. The sun had set, and, favoured by
the darkness, he passed unperceived through Belleville,
and having entered the house by help of false keys,
.he entered the abode of the landlord, which be cleared
out even to the linen.


_MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 73
Towards the end of the fifth day they began to be
uneasy at the non-appearance of the misanthrope;
the next day a suspicion arose. Twenty-four hours
later, and there was but one opinion respecting him;
he was the. thief. After such a trick mistrust all mis-
anthropes. To whom then shall we trust, in whom
place confidence? In philanthropists? By no means,
VL. IV. ‘ n


’74 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
CHAPTER LII.
Adkle d'Escars.—'I'he first step—Borrowed name—Fatal inscription.
-The ofice of manners and the crown-piece—The ladies of the
house and the resting- lace—Honour is like an island—The mea-
sure of the prefect an the claws of Satan—A public avowal.-—The
despair of parents—M. de Belleyme.—The thieves en herbe.—The
chapter of cambrioleurs.—Good head and good beam—Liberal al-
lowancem—A privation.
ONE of the most daring cambrioleuses was named
Adele d’Escars. I never saw a handsomer woman.
She seemed to have been formed on the model of one
of those divine Madonnas glowing from the pencil of
Rafaello. Splendid fair locks, large blue eyes, which
expressed all the sweetness of the soul; a delicious
mouth; features beaming with candour; a graceful
carriage, and an elegance almost a'érial; such were the
beauties which concentrated in Adele. In mind, she
was an accomplished woman—in morals, whether it
was from the effect of bad dis osition, or of chance,
she did not shine with such pe ection.
Adele belonged to a family honest, but confined in
means. Scarcer had she attained her fourteenth year
when, decoyed from her parents by one of those har-
ridans who infest Paris, she was put in a notorious
brothel. Without reference to those finished perigee-
tions of her form calculated to inspire voluptuous de'
sires, it might be said of Adele that she was a woman ;
she was a child as far as that primitive naiveté which
knows not the distinction between -vice and virtue, and
thus it was no difiicult matter to lead her into the
abyss. That she might elude the search of her family,
she first consented to change her name; and that her
extreme youth might not throw obstacles in the way of
the infamous wretch who was about to make a sale of
her charms. she made herself older than she was.
Adele, taken to the prefecture of police, was then


MEMOIRS or vmocq. 75
inscribed according to custom, without the gentlemen
of the Bureau den maeurs making any other remarks
than those which are ordinarily made by shameless
libertines. .
For a crown-piece, and doubtless the usual dram
which, under such circumstances, the regulators of
corruption do not fail to claim, she was provided with
the privilege of prostituting herself. Will it be be-
lieved that it was in the hotel of a magistrate charged
with the office of repressing social depravities, that this
Bureau de: maeurs existed, where a young girl whom
frequently the least remonstrance would have awa.
kened to a sense of modesty, could at any and at all
times obtain authority for exercising the most infamous
of practices .and trades? A Bureau des mwure where
they gave a licence for setting all decorum and pro-
priety at defiance; a prefect, under whose auspices
this licence was granted—what morality! and yet this
prefect was generally one of your pious men I
A young creature misled by corrupt advice, by of-
fended feeling, by a momenta despair, flung herself
headlong into lamentable reso utions; it was the im-
pulse of a hot head, an inspiration of the deviL Re-
flection, time, difficulties would have changed the cur-
rent of her ideas, but the Bureau dee mwura was close
at hand._ To be sure it was necessary for the pleasure
of the police agents, their protectors, or their tyrants,
that the ladies ofthe house should acquire a settlement
in the country; that they should be rich enough to
treat them and purchase their good offices by bribes:
therefore was it necessary to collect novelty, for that .
only makes these establishments prosperous. Had
there been any considerations, formalities, delays, ques-
tions to be asked of the aspirants who presented them-
selves, they might have been turned from the paths of
evil; but in France there are no painful or repulsive
intermediary modes, only to reach or return to well
doing. . _
The young femalqpresented herself at the Bureau
. . . H 2 .


7 6 uzuorns or vioocQ.
dea mmm, a register was open, and without any pre-
vious information, she was entered therein b name,
and the age which they leased to assign to er: de-
scribed, measured, visite , she was from that instant
irrevocably rendered up to prostitution; and hoWever
great her subsequent repentance, she was not admitted
to abjure her error, or separate herself from the foul
opprobrium which clung to her.
The gentlemen inspectors of manners, who had
granted her the. leave and liberty to dishonour and de-
grade herself, did not permit her to amend ; her dis_
honour was their work. To escape theirjurisdiction and
leave the claws of Satan, there were so many formali-
ties to undergo, so many persons were to be summoned
to attest and guarantee continuance of good conduct,
that the return to a proper and correct mode of life
was next to impossible.
The unfortunate woman who had once enrolled her-
self, could not extricate herself but by being surrounded ~
with the confidents of her shame, and in society whi-
ther she returned, at each moment, at each step, she
Was exposed to the chance of meeting with remini-
scences of her avowal. The entry was easy, secret, the
parents or guardians were not consulted; the avowal
was public, accorded by established citizens, and pro-
nounced after proofs entirely incompatible with the
torments of that arbitrary power which does not cease
to menace a courtezan, even when in fact and with her
full wish she has renounced the habits and paths of
prostitution.
Here the simple declaration of a woman, who is
anxious no longer to devote herself to the wretched
infamy of a life of prostitution, should be suflicient; for
to procure the means of work, it is necessary that the
course of her past life should be concealed; the police,
on the contrary, requires that it should be blazoned
forth to the noonday sun; it insists that her disgrace
shall be perpetual, the leprous spot indelible.- It
favoured, it courted her perversion; does not justice say


unmorss 0F vrnocm ' '71
that she must oppose, by every means in her power,
any modes which tend to diminish the number of the
subjects '.'
I say it is Satan who furiously rages to hold his prey.
I have seen the savage way in which the inspectors of
prostitutes drag forth, even from the workshops, those
who, without giving the formal notice required, had
determined on forsaking their flag; the prettier, the
younger they were, the more bent were these fellows
on claiming them. I have seen the eagerness with
which anew comer was accepted at this execrable
Bureau de: mwurr, when paternal authority was the
most contemned of all.
The neophyte appeared alone, or only with the
“ abbess."
“ Your name 1'”
“ Adele."
“ Your age t"
“ Eighteen."
“ Good! Ah, Mother Chauvin, you are the woman
to get hold of the girls. The young one is pretty! I
see she casts her eye down. That is all well. You
know the bureau must have its rights. No nonsense,
you know, manner: before anything! the commissary
next; he has the time. Do you observe, gents, the bril-
liancy, the bloom, the fall of the loins, the graceful air?
Oh, when she is polished up a little, she will be a tit-
bit.”
During this address, and many others equally unsuited
to the place and circumstances, a father and mother,
with their hearts bursting with grief, were at the second
division, beseeching the chief to institute a search for
their daughter, who had run away from them. They
thought their child far off : it was she whom, under a
borrowed name, the Bureau des mmurs had for ever ren-
dered an outcast from home and from society. Poor
parents l how did they jest at your sorrow l
M. de Belleyme has now effected many reforms.
The tax on prostitutes no longer forms a portion of the
‘ ' u 3


mmoms or vrnocq. 79
mirable head-piece : some accidents more or less severe
that had befallen her friends, gave her the opportunity
of proving that her heart was equally good: all recog-
nized in her that virtue in their line of life which they
term probity. She never abandoned him amongst
them who underwent the robber’s fate.
If a sentence separated her from a lover, she always
chose one of his most tried and faithful comrades to re-
place his loss, but he only became her knight on con-
dition that he would not prevent her from assisting the
unfortunate prisoner. Adele had thus a string of at-
tachments, the objects of which, equally cherished and
beloved, 'at length were sent to the Bagnes, or at least
cast into prison. To comfort their lot, she redoubled
her courage and skill. However, the number of these
pensioners increased so rapidly, that, not to be com-
pelled to suppress their allowances, which would have
detracted from her reputation for probity, she was
dompelled to submit to a very cruel privation. A lover
is an associate to whom it is necessary in a division of
prey to adjudge the lion‘s share. She had no more
lovers. Adele had sufficient experience to get rid of
a fellow-labourer. She then flew with her own wings,
and worked alone for two years with incredible good
fortune; everything succeeded to her wish. At length
the moment arrived when a lucky hit, surpassing all her
hopes, made her experience for the first time the em-
barrassment of wealth.


80 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ;
CHAPTER LIII.
The_ angs of solitude—Love—Living as mart and. wife~The ex.
cel ent pupil—A first attempt—The breaking in—Where the
Devil is the moneyP—Compensation—A scene of enthusiasm~
Life is a bed of eiderdown,full of pleasure—The danger of opposite
windows—The perfidious curtains—The reflection—A bedroom
hussar--The crusade—The window blinds of curiosity—The
judge's beard—A chance occurrence—Sixteen year‘s imprison.
ment.
ADELE seeing herself uppish in the world, felt all the
pangs of the solitude to which she had resigned her-
self. She experienced a void which she could not ac-
count for, or, rather, which she defined so well, and
thus she determined on listening to the first gallant
who should come and declare his passion to her, pro-.
vided always and nevertheless that this said gallant
should be a man to her taste. The one who pleased
her 'most, to whom she was equally pleasing, was one
Rigottier, the most amiable of billiard swindlers.
It was after a pool, in which he came off conqueror,
that he put in her hands a love-letter, stuffed with the
errpressions which love had inspired, for Rigottier was
really enamoured of her. Adhle, who before was dying
with fear lest she should be compelled to make the first
advances, received his declaration, and the joy of her_
triumph took care not to let her swain sigh out his life
in useless and pitiable lamentations. By pitying her-
self she pitied him, and as sympathy was manifest,
their coming together took place immediately, without
the intervention of any officer of the civil law.
Adele could not be ignorant that a woman ought to
have nothing concealed from her husband, and had no
sooner united her lot with Rigottier, than she~hastened
to evince to him her little talents, and all the profit she
drew from them. He was enchanted at the skill with
which she handled the file. He wished to try if he


Menoms 'or yroo'cq. 81 '
had any talents that way. Adele found that he had,
and cultivated them; and as lessons never are profit-
able or more quickly learnt, than when communicated
by one we adore, in a very short time Itigottier knew
how to make a key with as much perfection as the
most expert of locksmiths. Most certainly, in follow-
ing on a green cloth the chance of a cue, to which for-
tune is too frequently unfaithful, Rigottier had not
worked at his vocation ; Adele undertook to direct him
into it, and the most perfect success crowned his efforts.
Nevertheless she would not allow him to venture before
he was perfectly master of his craft, so much did she
fear that some clumsy trick might ruin him. At first she
only took him with her to keep watch, but afterwards,
at some expeditions at which he had only looked on with
folded arms, it was agreed that he should have hence-
forward a finger in the pie.
' A lady,who was reckoned rich, resided in the Rue de
la Feronnerie._ She had a good deal of money, her
maid said, and Adkle projected to make it change
owners. The keys were already made, and operated
magically; to make a right use of them it was only ne-
cessary to seize on the propitious moment. The maid had
promised to let Adcle know when her mistress went out,
and she kept her word. One day she came and told
her that her mistress would go out in the evening, and
forthwith they concerted the plan of operation.
“ Come,” said Adele to her pupil, “ we cannot
recedenow; you shall go in with me, I wish to see
how you will begin ; it is a splendid affair; no better
could be chosen for your first attempt."
' Rigottier did not recede; he went with Adele, and
as soon as they were certain that the lady had gone
out, they went up to her apartment, which they
entered without difficulty, and once within, that they
might feel themselves at home, they fastened the bolts,
and then leisurely proceeded to open all the places
which they supposed contained the money: a secre-
tary, two chests, a wardrobe, a bookcase, and many other


82 MEMOIRS or vrnocQ.
pieces of furniture were broken open, but nowhere did
they find the cash mentioned by the female servant.
Where could it be? A note which met their eyes in-
formed them that it had gone to the notary's. This was
enough to make them tear their hair and rend their gar-
ments; but far from abandoning themselves to despair
that was fruitless, the deceived pair, surveying with a
glance the many valuables around them, judged that
from the bosom of this disorder there might arise a mass
- of objects that could comfort and even compensate them;
and there being still wherewithal to recompense, they
selected some jewellery, plate, lace, and linen.
In an instant they arranged all, and bad carefully col-
lected everything that was valuable, and made packets
of them ; the bolt was drawn back, and they were about
to depart. Adele, transported with satisfaction, threw
her arms around her lover's neck and embraced him.
Rigottier was worthy of her ;_ she had admired his cool-
ness, and could not sufficiently praise the steadiness
with which he had seconded her. In her enthusiasm
she embraced him again ; one kiss called for another-
Rigottier repaid her tenfold; the exchange was rapid,
it was a rolling fire, it intoxicates them, they abandon
themselves to it, they forget themselves. They are not
on earth ; there were no more gendarmes, no more spies,
no more laws, tribunals, remembrances, cautions; love
dispels all dangers—the thunder may fall, the ceiling
may crush them, the house may give way, the universe
may be swallowed up, the pair see, hear nothing.
Et sifractm illabatur orbis implvirlumferieni ruimz.
Adele and Rigottier were no longer of this world; for
them life had no thorns, no asperities, no bitterness,
life is of eiderdown, and filled with delights. This may
be so ; but in Paris the streets have two sides of the
way, and it is sometimes prudent to think of the incon-
venience of opposite neighbours. The lady whose ab-
sence caused so profound a security, had not gone far
away. Opposite to her own apartment, and exactly on;


Msmoms or vrnocQ. - '88
the same story, lived one of her friends. She had gone
to see her, and make one at a party of Boston, when
suddenly, whilst somebody was shuffling the cards, her
eyes were mechanically directed towards one of her
own windows.
“ Ah, ladies," she cried, “ something very extraordi-
nary is going on in my bed-room."
“ What’s the matter? What’s the matter 1"
“ Do you perceive that there is a light?"
“ You are mistaken, it is only the reflection."
“ What do you say, reflection? _ I am not blind, I
see it moving."
“ Yes, stirring; that is always your way."
“ Oh, indeed! this time you will say it is no illusion.
There, there, M. Planard, look; do you see the curtain
at the window near my bed dancing 1'"
“ You are right, I certainly see a peculiar move-
ment.”
“ It increases—the fringes, the valance, all tremble,
all is agitated; if it continues, the canopy will fall
down.” i '
“ It does not cease; what the devil can it be? they
may be thieves.
“ Thieves! ah, my dear M.Planard, you open my
eyes. Good God, they are thieves; quick, quick, let
us go down.”
“ Let us go down, let us go down," repeated all the
company, and each, according to his or her respective
degrees of agility, jumped down the stairs by twos,
by threes, and even by fours, to get down quickly.
The lady whose apartment had been visited without
her knowledge was more trembling, more agitated than
her curtains. She pushed open the small door of her
porter’s lodge.
“ My flambeau, my flambeau,” she exclaimed with
' impatience, mingled with trouble; “ pray make haste,
you will get a light to-morrow."
“ Do you wish it to run 2” '
“ I tell' you there are thieves in the house." -


84 mauorns or vrnocq.
“ Thieves.”
“ Yes, thieves !”
“ Where are they?
“ In my apartment.”
5 “In your apartment, Madame Bourgeois? in your
apartment ? you are joking."
“ No, indeed, I do not joke; run quickly and call
the principal.”
“ M. Desloyers? Iwill."
“ Beg him to be so good as to come as soon as pos-
sible."
The porter hastened to fulfil his mission, and was not
slow in returning accompanied by M. Desloyers, who,
at the single word thief, had already taken his measures
of attack. Like a regular bed-room hussar, he had
not put off his night-gown or cotton cap; his spectacles
had replaced the protectors of green gauze; he had
slipped on his stockings, and tied his garters, and was
armed with a spit which he, had seized as became
through the kitchen.
“ Ah, ah i" my friends, said he, “ prudence and no
noise. We must go up, must we not? Chut, chut!
I think I hear—it is a carriage. A moment: do no-
thing hastily. Everybody must take their shoes off.
Chut, chutl You, Monsieur Tripot, (he addressed the
porter,) as there may be numbers to oppose, take your
stick; Madame Tripot, take your broom handle; and
mademoiselle had better get the frying-pan; the ladies
canhave a chair each to attack the enemy. Now for
the avant guard. I will undertake to protect the re-
treat; and if there be any resistance, I will betake my-
self wherever it may be best for me to take refuge. I
am understood; and let the arrangements thus pro.
ceed : come, precede me, I will follow.”
' The whole party huddled together, and went up the
staircase. On reaching the second flight, they pause—
Chut, there they are .' The porter, who formed the
avant guard, quietly introduced the key, and the door
yielded. Ah .' was the general cry of surprise. ; astonish-


mmoms or vrnocq. 85
ment and indignation succeeded: a man and woman,
broken furniture and parcels, one on the other. What
a picture! The ladies, as by aspontaneous movement,
placed before their visual organs that discreet hand—that
officious screen, which permits curiosity to be satisfied
whilst consulting modesty. Outside and inside, all
was motionless. Even the active curtains, the perform-
ers, the spectators, remain as if petrified: no person
spoke, no person said a word, so much were all dumb-
founded, so greatly did stupefaction seize on all. The
porter was mute also; but he could keep so no longer;
and, breaking silence, he said—
“ Ah! this is a new go, indeed. The commissary
must, come, and the beard of the judge must smell it
out.’
The commissary, exempts, and guard, whom a neigh-
bour had fetched, were not long in appearing. They
seized the two lovers. Adele, the first interrogated, was
not at all disconcerted. She protested that her appear-
ance in the “room, when she was surprised, was only the
effect of a fortuitous accident: she knew nothing of the
man with whom she was found in company: she had
only seen him once in her life; that as she was a com-
mon woman, he had accosted her in the street, and they
had entered the house together, believing it was a house
of accommodation. A door was open on the staircase,
and the opportunity, the time, &c.; besides, she was
an utter stranger to the making up of the parcels, and if,
a robbery was committed she was as innocent of it as
the babeunborn, and washed her hands of the affair.
This falsehood was well devised ; but Rigottier, with
whom Adele could concert no plan, did not keep to
the same text; and from the difference of their state-
ments, resulted a sentence of sixteen years' confinement
in irons. - Rigottier went with the chain in 1802.
Ten years later, I met him on the quays; he 'had
escaped. [apprehended him; and he afterwards died
M the Hague.


_ 86 BEHOIRS ' or vmoco‘.
CHAPTER. LIV.
The fruits of economy—Plan of amendment—The.skilful work-
woman.—Precnrious existence—Consequences of prejudice—The
Mont de Piété—Dcspuir—She must die—Cruel punishment—Tho
instruments of crime—Resistance to temptation.
AT the termination of her sentence, Adele left Saint
Lazare with a sum of nine hundred francs (nearly 38l.
English money), the profits of her labour whilst con-
fined. She was completely reformed, and had determined
on leading an irrreproachable life. Her first care was
to procure a small apartment, which she furnished, and
decent apparel. This done, she had one hundred and
fifty francs left. This was enough to keep the wolffrom
the door for a brief space, and yet was but a sorry pros-
pect. She went out in quest of work; and as she was
an admirable needle-woman, she found 'employment
very readily. Employed in an establishment for several
months, she had every reason to be content with her
lot; but the existence of a liberated convict, male or
female, is precarious. It was found that she had been
shut up in Saint Lazare; and then commenced those
troubles fromwhich it is so difficult to escape when once
branded with the mark of justice. Adéle, without
having in any other way given offence, was unfeelingly
dismissed. She changed her quarters, and succeeded
in getting again engaged. Placed in charge of the
linen at a furnished house, that she might avoid the
least chance of committing any indiscretion, she de-
termined to have no fellowship with any persons but
those whose confidence she had gained. - But in spite
of this precaution she could not avoid the reminis-
cences of past life. Recognised and pointed out, she
was again thrust out from home and shelter on a
pitiless world. From this day she had no resoure,
no chance of doing any thing without experiencing the


memorize or vmocq. 87 -
effects of that reproach which results from infamy per.
petuated by prejudice.
Adele had no resource but her needle. In vain did
she seek to turn it to account: three months elapsed,
and she did not meet with one charitable soul who,
availing themselves of her skill, would compassionate
her situation.
The moment arrived when, to subsist, she was com_
pelted to have recourse to her few goods, and, by a
series of petty pledges and pawnings, all the garments
in her wardrobe went to the Mont de Piété, that gulf
0f iniquity, dug by the usurious hypocrite under the'
feet of the necessitous. Reduced to the most absolute
nakedness, Adele determined on ending her woes by
suicide, and she ran to throw herself into the Seine,
when on the Pont Neuf she met Suzanne Golier, one of
the companions of her confinement. Adele related her
troubles to this friend, who dissuaded her from the re-
solution she had taken.
“ Come now, come now,” said Suzanne; “ shall we
do ill when another is doing well? Come to the house;
my sister and I have opened an embroidery shop; wev
have work and'you shall help us, and we will live to-
gether. If We have only bread, well! we shall only
have bread to eat.”
The proposal could not come more propitiously:
Adele accepted it.
It was then the commencement of winter, embroidery
was in great request; but at the end of the carnival the
dead season set in. At the end of six weeks Adele and
her friends were plunged into the most horrible distress.
Frederic, the husband of one of them, was established
as a locksmith. Had he been in full business he might
have aided them; but unfortunately he did not earn
even enough to pay his way, and defray the expenses
of his shop : greater penury could not be imagined.
One day Adéle was in the shop of this 'man, who,
for more than forty-eight hours, had not any more than
herself taken any sort of nourishment.
r 2


88 MEMOIRS 'or vrnooQ.
“ Well," said the locksmith, affecting to joke, whilst
lie uttered words of the most sinister import,—“ we
must die, little dears, there is no more prog. Yes,
we must die," he repeated; and, whilst he forced a
smile, his features were convulsed, and the cold sweat
started to his brow. Adele, silent, and her face over-
spread with a mortal paleness, was leaning on the shop-
board. She suddenly arose, and experienced a vast
emotion. “ We must die—must we,” she breathed
out, looking with inconceivable feeling at the tools with
which she was surrounded. It was the light of a horrid
hope which came across her. Adele was convulsed
and trembling ; a burning fever shot through her frame,
consumed her: between the cravings of hunger and the
terrors of conscience, she endured agony that almost rent
her heartstrings. During these tortures,with her hand
on a bunch of keys, she thrust them from her.
“ Good God," she cried, “take away these instru-
ments of crime! When I have so much desire to do
right, shall, must these be my last resource."
And that she might not fall into temptation, the un-
fortunate creature sought safety by hastily running out.


tummoms or vrnocQ. 89
CHAPTER LV.
The bureau of charity—The door of the philanthropist—The dowsger'a
equipage—An accident—The good coalheaver—The committee of
succour—The mob in action—The basket-woman's collection—Little
people have great virtues—Like master like man—The shirt-sleeve—
Victory proclaimed too soon—The grand figure—The exempts—
Unbeard-of brutality—The carrying elf—The carriage departs.
ADELE had heard that in the division where she lived
there was an office of charity; there, if benevolence be
not a vain name, the poor ought to be relieved and
comforted instantly. The desire of maintaining herself
honestly reanimated her courage; she summoned all
the strength that was left, and dragged herself to the
donr of the philanthropist, who had been pointed out to
her as the dispenser ofthe alms of her division. Adele
asked to speak to him.
“ Monsieur cannot be seen."
“ I am dying with hunger."
“ Monsieur is at dinner, and will not allow himself
to be disturbed durincr meal times.” '
“ Gracious heaven .—will he soon have finished?
When can I return and see him ?”
“ Oh, to-morrow.”
“ T o-morrow l“ ' .
“ Not before twelve o’clock, do you understand ;'
Monsieur receives no person sooner.“
“ Ah, do allow me to see him at least this evening;
you will restore me to life!" ‘
“ I have already told you it is impossible; go away,‘
and don't tease me or yourself any more about it."
Adele turned away, and scarcely had she passed
over the threshold of the door, which was shut upon
her with violence, when her knees sinking under her,
she endeavoured to go a few paces, her sight grew:
feeble, she stumbled, she fell, and in her fall her
temple struck against a sharp stone. \ I i 3 ' _


9U mnuoms or vrnocq.
“ Stop, coacltman ! stop l—you will crush her."
“ Whip away, I tell you! Who ordered you to at-
tend to these plebeians? Whip on, I desire you l" or-
dered the shrill loud voice of an old crabbed dowager,
whose equipage was rattling over the stones.
“The plebeians are in your skin l” replied a coal-
heaver; “ won’t you stop, you old bundle of feathers T'
and darting at the horse’s head, he stopped them with
his powerful hand, whilst some of the passers by,
summoned by the noise of the circumstance, dragged
from under the wheel of the carriage a female bathed
in blood.
The old dowager vowed fire and faggot against the
wretches who had dared to intercept her course. She
will be too late for the ‘ Comité den Secoun ;’-—that was
most provoking ;-the sitting will have commenced.
There is not now in Paris any safety for people of
consequence; the passages are all stopped.
“ Landau, do your duty, and punish these insolent
creatures! Landau, you do not hear me : I am losing
time of the utmost consequence, and for whom l—for a
wretch—a drunken woman !”
“ Does not Madame la Comtesse see that I cannot
get forward ?”
“ Tell the chasseur to take the number of that man's
ticket: I will complain to the police, and he shall rot
in gaol. Take me to the minister this instant l"
At this threat, the terrified coal-beaver let go the
reins, and the carriage of‘ Madame la Comtesse,‘ more
rapid than lightning, more terrible than thunder, dis-
appeared in the midst of hootings and maledictions,
the impotent clamours of which only excited in her
mind rage and contempt. i
Adele was laid on a bench near the door which but
the moment before had been shut with so much bru—
tality. Her swoon continued, and she had not reco-
vered the use of her senses; two mechanics supported
her. Amongst the spectators whom the event had
assembled each tried who could be of most setlvice to


mmrorns or vrnocq. 91
her, or soonest lend her aid. A fishwoman pierced the
crowd, tore her chemise to staunch the blood and heal
the wound; the fruit-woman at the corner ran with
some broth; an errand-boy ran for some wine; and a
young milliner hastened to lend her the aid of her bot-
tle ofsalts. The crowd had become very considerable.
“ What‘s the matter? what's it all about?"
“ A woman is taken ill."
“ Then send some of the crowd away, make a larger
circle round about her; would you stifle her ?“ and the
circle was immediately extended.
Adele gave no signs of life; she was motionless:
some person opened her eye-lid. “ The eye looks well!
it is only a fainting fit."
“ Does her pulse beat 1"
“ No l"
“ Then she is dead. Put your hand on her heart."
“ I feel nothing.“
“ Perhaps something is too tight about her, out the
strings of her clothes.”
“ She is not cold." .
“ If there were a doctor he would know what to do."
“ They have been to fetch one, but thatM. Durpetriu
would not come."
There was only a little way for him to come either.
“ Oh! if it had been for a rich patient he ‘would soon
have been here.”
“ Let's try again if she will take any broth."
“ That’s right, mother, try and make her drink a few
drops."
“ Throw some water in her face."
“ There- is nothing so dangerous as that, give her
some wine rather ;' that will bring her to."
They put the spoon to Adele's lips, and the broth
passed down her throat. “ Ah! so much the better, she
will recover ;" said the helpers and lockers on with
marked satisfaction.
Adele let fall one of her hands which were lying on
her knees, and then breathing the long sigh which


92 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
comes from a person whom death oppresses, she opened
her eyes widely, but, oppressed with the glare of light,
their haggard and sunken looks wandered vaguely
about without distinguishing any fixed object. At
length a flood of tears flowed down her pallid cheeks.—
“ How is it with you, my child 1" inquired those standing
by; butjust then Adele caught sight of the cup which
was offered to her, and seizing it with eagerness she
greedin lifted it to her parched lips, but her weakened
powers refused to aid the longing desire she felt to
drain its contents at one draught, and in the fruitless
endeavour to fix the glass against her lips, the chattering
and convulsive grinding of her teeth overpowered her
feeble efforts, and the cup fell from her/feeble hands.
“ Poor soul! she is dying of want," cried one compasi
sionate voice. “ She is expiring from mere starvation,"
exclaimed a second. “ Heavens ! to think that while so
many are revelling in luxury', a poor fellow-creature
should die like a dog l“
However, by degrees poor Adéle recovered the use
of her scattered senses, and her first attempt was to
break apiece of bread which awater-carrier had slipped
into her hand; but when conveyed to her mouth, her
parched palate refused to lend its aid, and after vainly,
endeavouring to masticate the aliment so necessary to
recruit her failing strength, her head dropped again
upon her breast, a cold perspiration stood on her brow,
and exhaustion appeared to have claimed its victim.
“ Come, friends,” let us make a collection for the
unfortunate girl, said an old woman, who, forgetting in,
the contemplation of another's misery the weight of the
huge basket beneath which she was bending, handed
round to each individual a sort of fur cap, in which, by
way of example, she first placed aforty-sous piece, and'
varying the mode of her address according as the ap-_
pearance of those she addressed seenth to require it,
she appealed to the benevolence of all. “ Pray, Sir,
pity the young creature, and put in something, as little‘
as you please, but pray don I; throw away this oppor-


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 93
tunity of helping a fellow-creature. Come, my good
lad, see if there is a trifle still left in the corner of your
waistcoat pocket. Oh! my noble soldier, throw in a
franc just for luck—you will be never the poorer for
helping a poor girl.
“ That’s right, my worthy old gentleman, let your
purse-strings crack; it will be all the same fifty years
hence, and you will be neither the richer nor' the poorer
for it: now then, my good man, throw in a few of those
louis which have been burning a hole in your pocket so
long.—Pray remember the cap," continued she shaking
it in the face of an old lady who seemed anxious to
escape her eye. “ I beg pardon, butI fancy my lady has
not been able to put in on acc0unt of the crowd.
Stand back all of you, and let this kind lady give her
assistance—Many thanks, my kind madam," added
she, when her oratory was crowned with success, “ may
God bless you—’tis a charity well placed."
The indefatigable basket-woman completed her
round without having experienced a refusal from one
of those to whom she had applied ; all had gladly seized
the opportunity of performing a kind action, purchased,
as it was by several, at the price of many a privation.
“ There,“ cried a clear-starcher, throwing in a' half
franc, previously destined to procure for her the treat
of a luxurious supper, “there it goes, and I shall fast to
night; but I would rather go without'a day‘s food than
see yonder poor creature in the state she is."
When the lower order of people perform a praise-
worthy action, they are not ashamed to give public
vent to their feelings, and to express aloud the sacrifice
they have imposed upon themselves ; and this from no
spirit of ostentation, which would lead them to extol
their own act; far from it, no after-regrets disturb their
enjoyment of having thus aided a fellow-creature.
What virtue and self-denial may be found in such
exclamations as the following: “ Well, it. Will be all
the same six hours hence, and I shall just have to deny
myself the pleasure of going to the barriere, as I had


94 anMoms or vmocQ.
romised." “I hadv intended to have put into the
ottery; well, I must just wait till next time." “ Ah to
be sure, we ought to help one another."
“Pooh! pooh, wife, I know what I’m giving. I
must go without my pint a day for a little while, that
won't hurt me; here, mother with the cup, come this
way; only to think of what poor destitute souls are
exposed to l"
“ I shall make up what I now give by some fortu_
nate bargain, and if I do not even take handscl, I can't
help it; bad luck to day, better to-morrow. Good bye
to my smart new handkerchief, I must wait a little
longer before I buy it, that’s all.“ “ True, my pretty
one, so youbut feed the hungry and pity those who
need it, heaven will reward you, never fear."
“ Francoise, do you observeI have actually parted
with what I have been saving up to redeem my ear-rings."
“ Oh, I see ! well, I have done the same thing; and
now my bracelets must stay where they are till good
luck comes again.” ‘
“ Pray, good people, do not push so dreadfully ;—-if
you cannot help the poor creature, you had better go
your ways, and leave room for those who will."
> The persevering basket-woman continued her rounds,
renewing her entreaties to each fresh comer whom curi-
osity instigated to approach the assembly. Undaunted
by silence, or even direct refusal, she still kept up her
tone of supplication.
“ See,” cried she, “ here come some smart ladies ;
let‘s see what they will do for us.“ She hurried towards
them, but the females she alluded to, who had just
quilted the house before which the whole scene had
taken place, just turned their heads, and then redoubled
their speed to escape her importunities.
“ Holloa there, you people l" exclaimed a fat over_
fed footman, with powdered head and gaudy livery—
“IIolloa, I say,” continued he, advancing carelessly,
leaning upon a broom : “ what are you all about, block-
ing up the door-way in this manner?”


MEMOIRS OF innocq. 95
" What does the man say T' asked one.
“ Why, I say that if you do not take yourselves of
pretty quickly, I will make you; that is all."
“ And pray, my worthy sir, does not the street belong
to us as well as to you 7" '
“ God bless you, my friend,” replied one amongst
the crowd, “the fool only echoes the whim or selfish
command of his mistress." I
“Hold your pert tongue !“ vociferated the enraged
lacquey, “or I will let you know who I am and who
my mistress is too, in a way you will not like: how-
ever, l‘ll soon turn that impostor off the bench where
she is lying, playing off her tricks :"-—so saying, he
sought to break through the crowd, but in vain ; he
was driven back with a thousand hisses, cries, groans,
and execrations.
“ Well,” cried he, foaming with rage, “we'll soon
see who‘s master, however; you shall just have a bene-
fit from my slop-pail."
“ Ha, ha, ha ! you rinsing of the waste-butt;
oh, oh, oh!"
“ You won‘t stir? Well, then, here goes : remember,
he laughs best who laughs the last.”
He stepped a few paces backwards, and pushed the
door gently. “ Molly,” said he, “ bring me a pail of
water here, and see me christen all these rascals.
“ Oh, oh, that is what you are after, you blackguard,
is it? We hear you. Come here and see how clean
we will wash your sneaking face !—Now I have you,
you unfeeling brute !—hurral hurral—Roll the fellow
in the kennel!" '
“ Let me go, let me go, or I’ll"—
“ Ah! so you think to bully a bit, do you? Take care
what you say, or we will serve you out.—-Bravo! bravo!
-—go it, go it !—give it him well !—serve him out!"
“ Fair play ! fair play !" cried the frightened domes-
tic. “ Really, gentlemen, this is unjust :-—I am not to
blame—I but fulfil my orders—stay where you are all
night—’tis all one to me, but the servant must yield to


96 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
the master, and when master ordered me to drive you
away, how could I help it '.'"
“ Who is your master? he seems to have very little
pity for the unfortunate."
“ Faith, ifall those whose occupation and conditions
renders them familiar with the poor, were not of the
same way of thinking, their dwellings would be as much
beset as the doors ofa mendicity society.“
Whilst the servant was speaking, he continued, like
a prudent general, to keep up a skilful retreat; and
whilst be amused his enemies by a feigned capitula—
tion, he reached, by one quick step, the street door;
by asecond movement, as abrupt and unexpected, he
managed to shake off his enemies, and make good his
exit into the house, leaving one of his sleeves behind
him as a trophy of victory, at the sight of which a
general burst of riotous exhilaration was heard.
“ Let the hang-dog hide his rascally face l" cried
they. “ we“ done, sneak; ask friend Molly to hide
you in her slop-pail you wished to borrow a few minutes
ago."
However, these victorial rejoicings were soon inter-
rupted by the sight of two individuals, whose scantily
cut great-coats, black cravats, long canes, and vulgar ap-
pearance auguted ill for the triumphant party. From
the velocity with which they moved along, it mighthave
been conjectured that they were hastening to lend their
aid to extinguish a fire.
“This way, gentlemen, this way.” Such at least
was the meaning to be gathered from the gesture of a
tall figure clad in a thick-waddcd wrapping coat, and
who seemed to be the leader ofthe party. This tall figure
proceeded onwards to about forty paces from the group ;
and after having bestowed on them a gracious inclina-
tion of the head, and a last sign with his finger, at the
turning of astreet, he disappeared,—-or, rather more
conformably to decorum, the silent gentleman en-
sconced himself from whence he could plainly observe
all} that was passing.


98 mmoms or vrnocQ.
nothing to do but to listen to your whinings? Troop
I say."
The wretched girl endeavoured to stand; but a fresh
giddiness seized her, and she fell at their feet.
With a volley of oaths and threats, one of the ex-
empts seized her as though she had been a wild beast.
“ I’ll be hanged,“ said he, “ if you shall not come,
or you shall give agood reason why. Do you hear me,
you baggage? March, Isay." And again bestowing
on her a violent snatch, he tore her apron from her
waist, and the money which had been so kindly collect-
ed for her fell to the ground and rolled in all directions.
Some children, who perceived the accident, brought
back some few pieces; but before half of the number
dropped could be recovered, a hackney-coach passed
by, and was immediatel ordered to stop. The ex-
empts dragged the body 0 the insensible Adhle towards
it, who looked, indeed, like a corpse whom' assassins
Were hurrying to the grave, in order to conceal their
crime, and threw her roughly on one of the seats.
“ What are you all staring at so curiously," cried
they to the spectators of this savage scene; “ did you
never see a Woman drunk before 2"
Scandalous! infamous! disgustingl murmured the
bystanders, who were not [0 be duped by this shallow
artifice. However, the coach door was shut; the coach-
man mounted his box. “ To the depot, to the prefec-
ture, if you understand that better ;“ and so saying, the
vehicle rolled on. '


MEMOIRS OF vrnocq. 99
CHAPTER LVI.
The inside of a coach—Two wretches~La Morgue and the corps-
de-garrle—False humanity—The compassionate soldiers—The in'
. vincible Eighteenth—The good captain—Who gives what he has.
gives what he can—The return home—~A straw bed—A delirium—
The candle end—Gratitude.
ADELE had lost all consciousness. The two policemen,
who had placed her between them, rubbed her hard,
and chafed her hands in the hope of reviving her: the
coachman, who was listening, heard them say, in words
which denoted their embarrassment,—
“ Is she acting a farce, or is she not ?"
“ Let us see, but don't play the fool."
“ Hold your jaw."
“ Well, I think that it is no joke."
“ Pinch her.”
“ Well, it's no use to pinch her, she does not move
nor stir.”
“ What! does not her eyelid even twinkle l"
“ On my word, I think she is done for.——(Laughing.) v
Ha, ha, ha! What a gol what a farce l“
“ What! -do you think she would play us such a
trick 2“
“ ’Pon my soul, there's nothing to laugh at; we‘re in
a nice concern with this lamp of carrion l“
“ Stufl', stuff! There is no difficulty in the thing;
let’s leave her at La Morgue“,—that wall be the short-
est and only way.--(He calls)—Coachee l“
“ No, no; let‘s go to the nearest guard-house.“
“ Very right: we can say we picked her up in the
streets through humanity. They may then do what
they like with her, it will be no business of ours."
1' La Morgue is a species of charnel-housein Paris, where
all corpses found and unknown are deposited until owned by
relatives or friends—Truss!“ -
K 2


tremoms or VIDOCQ. 101
Con. (Who approached the bench and sent out a
long pufl' of smoke.) “ It seems to do famously.”
CAPT. “ That's well, that's well ; do so again."
The return to life was announced by a slight con-
traction of the countenance, and by a convulsive move-
ment of the limbs. Ad‘cle breathed again, coughed,
and by an effort raised herself on the seat, where she
had been recumbent.
The CAPT. (in an under-tone to the sergeant,)
“ She looks like a spectre.“
Sen. “ Exactly like a body dug up from the grave."
A CONSCRIPT. “ If I were not here I should be
frightened, and think I saw a ghost."
Adele looked about her, and after some moments,
with those accents expressive of a soul full of sweet-
ness, said, “I was so well." Her horizon cleared,
darkness was dissipated. “ Where am I? (with emo-
tion) the guard! in prison! good God, in prison!”
OFF. “ Cheer up, my good woman, you are with
those who will not harm you."
ADELE. .“ Ah, Sir! Holy Virgin! what have I
done ’.'"
Sen. “ As long as you are with us, there is
no fear of any person harming you; are we not the
invincible eighteenth 1'" (He handed his canteen to
her.) " Drink, that will do you good—it's good ; at
least it cost six sons the half int, so it ought to be." >
An. “ Ah, good sir, Sergeant,I thank you,'
excuse "
Sen. “ I will not, you shall drink, or tell me why
not. Come, come, it will revive you." i
The persuasions of the sergeant were so powerful
and pressing, that Adéle dared no longer refuse, and
soon recovered sufficient strength to be able to answer
the questions which the ofiicer addressed to her. She
did not complain, she related the truth; and in her
mouth, truth was so eloquent, that the vieillus mou-
stac/zes(hardened veterans), enraged at first with the
brutality of the police men, were surprised afterwards
to find a tear starting to their eyes. K 3


102 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
CAPT. “ Well, sergeant, what‘s the matter with
you? I thought you as tough as a hog’s hide."
Sen. “ I am ; but injustice is abhorrent to me; and
then, captain, to own the truth, I could not prevent
its coming."
Con. “ I am not mighty soft and sensitive, but
it is too much for me, I cannot bear to see a woman
weep. It gives me so much uneasiness, that for
nothing I would give her all my ‘ chink,‘ (taking from
his pocket an old glove which had served him for a
purse.) I have twenty-two sous and a half, and I am
d—d ifI don't give them all to her. Why make any
ado about it? Why shouldn’t I? with the allowance
bread to-day—Well, who collects the cash? Let him
have all, the small and large pieces, from a liard to six
francs." '
Sen. “ I should like to make , it forty, but the
thing‘s impossible; thirty-five, and the bag is empty :
if I were skinned alive, they could not get another
dump out of me.”
A SOL. “ Here are my twenty-five centimes and
my ration. Comrades, come, shell out, you who have
got any. There are some chaps under the bed. (He
‘ pulled one out by the leg.) It‘s Lorrain—I would
have bet a wager of that."
ALL. “Ah! we may well say ‘ villain Lorrain,
traitor to God and his neighbour.‘ ”
LORRAIN- “ I am asleep.”
SoL. “ Five sous."
Lon. “ Leave me alone.”
SOL. “ Tip, and sleep afterward.”
‘ Lon. “ I a'nt got no blunt." >
SEE. “ You can't comb the devil if he has no
hair.”
CAPT. (Taking tenfrancs from his purse.) “Leave
him alone, I will pay for him and the sentinels.”
An. “ Captain, you are too good.”
CAPT. “ Your situation demands care: if you like
I will have you conveyed to the Hotel Diet! 1'"


memoras 0P vmocq. 103
COR. “ There is an hospital nearer; La Pitié
is not two steps distance."
SER- “ You can't get in at night there, or anywhere
else."
CAPT. “ Yet accidents may happen at night as well
as in the day; and for an hospital to fulfil all the
purposes of its establishment, it should be open at all
hours.”
San. “ I beg your pardon, captain, but you are in
error."
CAPT. “ If that be the case, she must be conducted.
to her home. (To Adele) You have ahome ?"
AD. “ I had one to-day; I was there with some
friends, who are, perhaps, at this moment even worse
than myself.”
CAPT. “ Do you feel capable of walking ?“
An. (getting up and staggering). “ Oh, yes; I am
not so weak as I was."
CAPT. “ Well, then, some person shall accom-
pany you. Numbers seven and eight, leave your
cartridge-boxes, take the lantern, and go with this
female; lead her gently, stop as often as it may be
necessary, and mind that she does not lose her
money."
Sen. “ Mind, my good woman; remember ten
francs the captain gave you; ten, eleven, twelve,
fourteen, seventeen; seven francs eleven sous that you
had in your pockets: in all, twenty-four francs fifty-
five centimes. Now look, I tie them up in the corner
of your apron: twenty-four francs eleven sous tied up
in that knot. Can you now say that soldiers are the
scum of the earth, and that there are no good fellows
in the Invincibles ?” ‘
Adele would have uttered every testimony that gra-
titude could suggest : “ You are kind, very kind."
“ Thank them another time,” said the captain; “ go
now and sleep, you must need repose.”
“ I think so,” exclaimed number seven, “ after a
thump like that she has received. Cheer up, my hm?


104 manoms or vinocq.
woman; lean on us. Don't be afraid ;',I am stout and
strong, and so is my comrade."
" Yes, yes; lean as heavy as you like." ,-
It was nearly two o‘clock in the morning when
Adele reached her abode. They knocked at the door,
which Frederic opened. On enetratingr the retreat
which Adele pointed out as her domicile, the two
soldiers were actually frightened : not the smallest por-
tion of furniture; the four walls; some trusses of
straw, and on them were lying two women, without
sheets or coverlids, without the least covering of any
kind to shield them.
“ Where shall we lay her down '.'" said one of the
soldiers.
“ Give me thatl give me that!" said Frederic,
snatching from their hands a loaf, which he hit with
eagerness.
“ By Mars! he is hungry. Come, ladies, rise; we
bring you some provisions. Come, Parisian, divide
this ration ; have you a knife 2"
THE PARISIAN- “ What do we want with that 2"
After having broken the bread, he approached one
of the women, and taking her by the hand, said—
“ Well, are you dead 1”
She turned on one side : “ Ah, is it you, man dour
Jam .3" Then, seeing the morsel of bread, she seized
and devoured it. ,
Susanne, whom Adele a proached, raised herself up
without answering her, an after having looked at the
light with a smile which made one shudder, she extends
her arm—“ How beautiful the angels are! Do you see,
my sister? they have not deceived me; it is Adele!
She is with them! I should like to devour a wing! I
knew that they would ask me to the wedding! She
is all in white! She had a hat on! No, sir, I don’t
dance after supper. The goose ! the goose !—yes, yes,
the goose !—ah, certainly! I like it very much? Be
so kind as to pass those pigeons to me!"
A SOL. “ She is at supper; but it is evident to me
that her cupboard’s empt . I ~ ‘


MEMOIRS on vrnocq. 105
Anew. “ Take this, my dearest girl; it is bread."
Susanne. “ Bread! for shame! Do you eat
.bread? These brains are excellent. The dessert! the
dessert is magnificent! I shall put some of that in my
bav l" '
Zn. “ She is delirious.“
Sus. “ Oysters! oh, I could eat twenty dozen!
Make haste l Come, come, open them quickly!
Quicker, quicker! you are tiresomer slow."
An. “ Excuse her; her mind wanders."
Tm; PARIMAN.) “/It does, indeed; her little wits are
wool-gathering.”
An. “ Susanne, dear Susanne, hear me; it is I.
Don’t you know me? I am Adéle!
Sus. “ Ah, your husband is very gentlemanly."
Ao. “ Do not wander so wildly; here is bread,
take it and eat it." '
SUs. “ It is for me, is it not 2”
An. “ Yes, yes, it is for you."
Sns. (She took the bread,‘ examined it, tasted
it.) “ Pie, excellent pie, one of Lesage‘s make; the
crust is admirable, delicions." (She ate voraciously.) ‘
ONE or THE SOL. (to his comrade). “ I wish I was
a rich man."
Tan PAR; “ And so do I, were it only that I'
might be kind to people like these! It breaks my heartt
here, come away; have you a lamp or candle that I
can light for you ?"
FREDERIC. ‘_‘ Candle '.' lamp? when we have not
a morsel of bread in the house.’
Tan PAR. “ Suppose we leave them an end of
candle 1'"
Tan OTHER SoL. “ Yes, do; the corporal will say
nothing about it."
Tm: PAR. “ Well, then, leave the candle end.
Adieu, my friends, I trust you will be more fortunate,
' and see better days.”
An. “ Ah, I shall never_forget what you have done
for me."


106 summits or vrnocq.
Tan Part.“ “ Adieu, adieu, good luck to you until
15% you again."
~ THE omen $01.. “ Ah, take care of yourselves,
miserable, unhappy creatures."
Tun Pan. “ Chut, chut, wait till we get outside."
For A'dele and her companions this was a fortu- '
nate day that was about to beam on them. The sun
rose on twenty-four francs fifty-five centimes that be-
longed to ‘them. What blessings did they call down
on the heads of the brave fellows of the invincible
Eighteenth. Adele was hurt, crushed, by the accident of
the preceding evening, but yet was so happy, because
she had brought plenty to the house, that scarcely bad
day dawned when she began to sing. As for Susanne,
her brain was no longer occupied with deceitful hallu-
cinations. Sleep had restored her to reason, and the
phantom of a splendid banquet no longer irritated her
ap etite, satisfied by a less seducing reality, although
in nitely more solid and satisfactory.
“ I remember nothing of it," said she. “ What! did
the soldiers do all this? For a trifle, now, I would go
and kiss the captain."
An. “ And the sergeant, and the corporal, in fact,
all of them behaved like deities.”
F man. “ Then they may rely on it, that, go wher-
ever I may, and meet their regiment, it will be that
I have not a farthing in my pocket if I do not treat
them to drink. Don't you think, Henriette, that they
richly deserve a kind return for their feeling conduct."
HENRIETTE. “ Yes, my dear fellow, we ought to
vow a candle for their safety; but for them this day
had been our finale."


MEMOIRS or vmocq. 107
CHAPTER LVII.
The kettle empty—The audience and reading In Quotidienne—Brenk
your arms and legs l—Have you a. curate ?-—Justice is there—Th8
tall figure again—The second breakfast.
A sum of twenty-four francs fifty-five centimes is not
an inexhaustible fund, and the party who knew it well
did all their endeavours to procure work, but there was
no possibility of getting any. The eleventh day, in the
morning, the kettle was again empty.
“ Now,” said Frederic, “ we may hang our teeth up
on a hook. What do you think of it, Adele Z“
“ I do not know. I have a presentiment and wish
to satisfy myself on one particular point; if I do not
succeed I shall have the less to reproach myself with.”
“ You will not succeed. When any one is in ill luck,
all exertion is useless, he may drown imself in his own
spittle."
“Be that as it may, I shall have a clear conscience."
Adele went out and hastened to the house of the
commissary of bimfaimnce. At the sight of the fatal
bench on which she had lain in so wretched a situation,
she trembled, hesitated, and almost retreated. It was
not twelve of the clock, they could not refuse to intro-
duce her. She summoned up her courage and stepped
over the threshold.
“ Oh I where are you going?” said the surly porter.
“ To monsieur."
“ It is not the hour,—you must come again at eleven
o‘cloek."
Adele did not fail to appear when the clock struck
the hour.
“ You may go up stairs."
She went up, and after awaiting the delays and sub-
mitting to the impertinent curiosity of the antechamber
she_0btained the audience she solicited.


108 MEMOIRS or vmocq.,
The commissary received her. He was seated in a
lounging attitude in an arm-chair, with his eyes fixed
on the ‘ Quotidienne *,‘ an article in which made him
smile.
“ What do you want 2" he inquired.
Adele stated her situation and that of her friends
The picture she drew was distressing, but he did not
condescend to suspend the perusal of his newspaper,
and she had ceased speaking at least twenty minutes,
when, throwing the journal down on a small side-table,
he broke silence with this singular aside speech.
' “ Well, all things duly considered, I shall make up
my mind to go to the Variétésrl- this evening. Oh!
what you are there, woman? You say that “
“ Sir, I come to implore—--"
“ Yes, I see all about it. Have you any family '.'"
“ No, sir."
“ You are not sixty, I can see. Have you any infir-
mities 2" ' -
“ No, sir."
“You are young and well; you have strong arms;
what more would you have? Do you think ‘the bureau
de charité‘ will support you in idleness ?"
“I am a workwoman, and ask only the means of
procuring employ."
“ Can we give you work T“
“ Ah! sir, if I could procure any through your
means ; 1am in the lowest depths of distress.”
“ If we succoured all those who come here like you,
the bureau could not suffice for the multitudinous claims
we have. Have you any recommendations? Do you
know any body ?“
“ No, sir."
“ Have your application hacked, and then we shall
see." '
" But, sir, by whom shall I get it backed i"

. A newspaper so called—TRANs.
1- A theatre in PRFlS.—-TRANS-


unmorns or vmocq. 109
“ Have you not a curate in your parish ’! It is simple
enough : bring me a letter from him."
“ That will take some time to do, and I am without
bread."
“So much the worse for you. I cannot act other-
wise."
“ [n the mean time what will become of me? I must
turn thief, and rob some one."
“ As you like; but justice is at hand. Well, you
have nothing more to say to me ;—good day, good
day."
He then arose, and rang for his servant.
“ What, do you still remain there? Did you not
hear me 2"
“ Pardon me," stammered out Adele, who, under
the long folds ofa dressing gown in which he was en-
veloped, thought she recognised the tall figure whose
orders the policemen had obeyed. At this momenta
servant entered.
“ What do you please to want, sir ?“
“ Tell the cook to bring up my second breakfast, and
make haste, for I am dying wtth hunger. Order'the
horses to be put in the carriage at three o'clock.“
“ Will you go to the Exchange, sir Z"
“ Yes ; go, make haste.“
Adele was mute and motionless.
“ lfyou look at me till this time to-morrow what
benefit would it be to you? Will you compel me to
turn you out by the shoulders? I tell you once more,
see the clergyman ofyour parish."
Adele could not make any objection; and half in-
dignant, half confounded, she said to the commissary,
taking her leave,-—“ I thank you, and shall follow your
advice.“
VOL. 1V, L


'110 mnmoras or vrnoco.
CHAPTER LVIII.
A priest should be humane—The parsonage-house—The preparations
for a gala—The devotees—Cnriosity—The Abbé Tatillon, or the
majordomo—Te Deum laudamus—Regrets ii Ia comets—An indie-
cretion—Meddle with your own affairs.
ADELE went towards the residence of the clergyman:
“ IfI am repulsed here," she thought,—“ well, I will
not be repulsed: if fate rages so desperately against
me, it shall not be said that my faults are of my own
seeking. I will try all means ofattaining success. But
how to accost the clergyman? I do not go to church; he
has never seen me, and perhaps will reprimand me; but
he will not eat me up alive; he is a priest, priests ought
to be humane, charitable; their religion tells them to
be kind to every body. Then what do I ask? a letter ; it
costs but very little to write a letter; I would rather
die than supplicate that cruel wretch the commissary
again. To die! it is very cruel at my age. Once I felt
the necessity of it, but never shall again. I will tell
the clergyman all my misfortunes, those of my friends,
he shall know all, from Pater t0 Amen, (from beginning
to end ;) and if he have the bowels of charity, if he be a
Christian, he cannot help' feeling compassion for our
sufi'erings, and giving us the succour we so greatly
need.”
Whilst cogitating all this over in her mind, Adele
arrived at the clergyman’s residence. The porter, of
whom she inquired if the pastor could be seen, pointed ,
out to her a pavilion at the bottom of the court yard.
‘LEnt’er that,‘ said he, “ and you will find M. l’Abbé
t ere.’
Adele followed his directions, and after having
knocked for some time, pushed the door, and saw before
her a large room, where, on a sideboard shining with
gold and silver, were spread out all the delicacies and
dainties of terrestrial paradise. Women were bustling


nmoms or vmocq. 111
about in all directions. “ That will do better this way,
this will do better that way. The appearance of the
whole is charming, delightful! this cream is delicious!
What do you think of my dish of sweetmeats I”
All the women were so busied, that she entered
without being perceived.
“ Now, put these plates a little in order; you spoil
the look of the whole service. Mind, now ; you very
nearly broke my dish."
Then came the question, “ What do you want here 1“
addressed to Adele by a sister of Visitation.
“ What does that woman want 2" was asked in the
same breath by a nun of Sacre' Cmur.
“ Does Madame want anything?" inquired a Ca-
noness, who seemed to preside over these preparations.
“ Demoiselle Marie, just see what the person wants."
Demoiselle Marie approached Adele, “ What is your
wish, Madame?"
" I wish to have the honour of speaking to M.
the vicar."
“ If you have anything very particular to say to him,
you can communicate it to me; it is just the same as
speaking to himself; I will tell him faithfully all you
have to say; is it a public or private matter that you
wish to see him upon 1"
“ I wish to speak with him in private."
“ In private, my dear! oh, we don‘t speak to the
vicar in that way."
“ Ask him in writing to give you an audience, and
if he thinks proper he will reply to you, and fix a time
when he can conveniently see you.”
“ He will reply to me to-morrow, perhaps, and then
it will be too late.“
“ Ifyou are so much in haste, it seems to me that
you might just as well state to me what brought you
hither."
“ I can only tell it to the vicar."
“ Ah, that is different, I have no wish to know it:
if I have asked you any questions, it was for your own
L 2


112 memores or vrnoco.
sake and interest; you have your secrets, Madame, and
pray keep them, keep them by all means, 1 am too
good to occupy myself with you in this way."
“ Since Demoiselle Marie is the superintendent of
this gala," said a sister aide-de-camp, who, with fine
herbs and anchovies, amuses herself in drawing on the
plate the instruments of the passion, “ why make with
her a mystery of your proceedings?"
“ We all have our reasons, sister."
“ Heaven protect us from seeking to penetrate yours,
my dear child, it is not curiosity [that induces us; we
curious indeed, oh! Jesus, no, that is not our failing :
but I like better that people should clearly and pro-
perly explain themselves."
“ But pray cease to solicit the lady,” cried the Ca-
noness ironically, “ she is not compelled to tell you
every thing.“
“ Oh, I know what it is," replied the Demoiselle Marie,
" she is some mumper: they literally swarm here, no-
thing but beggars to be seen; we might say that, we have
nothing to do but to stoop and pick them. up,-alms,
alms, they are not so very abundant, we have never been
more pestered, and we have 'our own poor, and— ”
“ Do not put yourself so much out of the way to no
purpose; you do not know what I want, and it was not
to you that I addressed myself.“
“ Do you mark the insolent creature 1'"
“ Proud heart and humble fortune," observed the
Canoness, “they are all alike.”
“ People ought to be humble when theyare not
rich," remarked the Sister of Visitation.
“ Nobody is more charitable than I am," said the
Sister of Sacré Cmur; “ but I like to see people
humble. Ah! humility is afine virtue. If this lady
had told us what she wanted, we might perhaps have
had pleasure in lending her our assistance."
At this moment, the staff-major of this troop of gou-
vernantes, servants, nuns, canonesses, mid devotees of
all ages and all colours, surrounded the mumper.
1


unmorns or vrnocq. 113
“ Tell us ; intrust to us ,- confide in us,” they cried ;
and a thousand other interpellations, more or less irn-
perative, were simultaneously uttered.
“ Whilst you surround me like a parcel of bailiffs,"
cried Adele, who did not know amidst the multitude
.whom to answer, “ I have nothing to tell you.“
Whilst she was thus enduring the pitiless pelting of
the storm of inquiries, the atmosphere was suddenly
filled with the most delicious perfumes. Oh what
agreeable odourl it is exhaled from a delicate cam-
bric handkerchief used by ayounz abbé, fresh and gay,
who came with a candlestick in his hand, wiping his
forehead.
“ Pancrace, mind where you put your feet,” said
this major-domo to a fat fellow whose arms and loins
were both wearied with the weight of forty bottles
miraculously packed in a hamper.
“ Take care," added the abbé, “there is a step.
There, mind. Ahl now our chambertin is all right;
but not without trouble, was it brother? Te Deum lau-
damur.”
“ Monsieur l’Abbé, where did you take it from?“
asked Demoiselle Marie, “ from the bottom of the cel¢
lar l"
“ Yes ; the comet cellar."
“ That‘s perfectly right.“
“ Do you know that it diminishes from being drunk?
Ah ! if it pleased the Lord to send us another star."
He drew himself'up suddenly, as if surprised at the
sight' of a strange face; and, looking at Adele, said—
“ I do not know this lady l"
“ She wants the vicar.”
“ The vicar. Oh! he has other fish to fry.-(To
Adéle.)—You could not. madam, have selected your
time more unpropitionsly. The vicar will not he at
liberty all day. We have coming to dinner, MM. de
la Fabrique and the Fathers of the Mission; and you
know that, at festival times, (with an amiable air,) we
know when they begin, but cannot tell when they will
‘ L 3


114 mmorns or vmocq.
terminate. Besides, what do you want with the vicar?
Are you one of his sheep?"
“ 1 do not know, sir."
“ And who knows, ifyou do not? Diantre,diantre!
Yes, yes, (he stamruered.) Ah! l see, lsee: it is only
with him that you have business; so I should not
have the leisure to hear you. I have plenty of work
before me. I advise you not to go out again where
you entered : the vicar will be much fatigued, and glad
to throw himself on his bed for a moment: then he
will sit down to table—. No : upon consideration,
write to him."
“ That is what we have already advised madame to
do,” observed Mademoiselle Marie.
“ Well, then,” replied the abbé, “ there is another
wa —-—"
‘3‘, Pray, M. l’ Abbé," cried the Gouvernante, “ meddle
'with your own concerns. Your way! do you think I
could not have told her as well you, if I had thought
proper to do so? But you know how displeased the
vicar is, when any one goes to him in the vestry."
“ The vestry'.“ murmured Adele, in a low voice; to
whom the word was as a new light: and instantly
making a courtesy, which was not returned, she went
out and ran towards the church.


neurons or vmocq. 115
CHAPTER LIX.
The Sacristnn—Demniselle Marie, or the password—The two Vicars,
or the parallel—'l'he old and the new—Well-ordnred charity—Tho
representation—Registers of tho cinl state—Picture of deep misery
--No one dies of hunger—Malediction— \ general confession—The
tall figure sgain—lmpertinent illusion—Baptism and burial—Tho
charitable actor.
Sun soon reached the cloisters of the sanctuary, and
was looking about for the vestry.
“ Behind the choir to the left, you will see the in-
scription in gold letters," said one of the givers of holy
water.
Adele read the inscription. “ It is here, then," she
said, as she entered.
“ Well, what do you want? where are you going so
fast 1'" cried a man in a large black gown, whom the
skull-cap on his head denoted to be one of the servitors
of the temple: _“ is it a baptism, a marriage, a burial,
masses, the holy viaticum? This is the sacrament
bell.”
“ M. the Vicar.”
“ From whom i"
“ The Demoiselle Marie."
“ The Demoiselle Marie. Theu welcome, my dear
madame. You will see the vicar; but at this moment
he is still in pontificalibus, and you must wait until he
be unrobed. Pray be seated there on the seat near the
window : do you see, you had better watch for his leav-
ing the robing-room, and then you can say what you
wish. Ah ! the vicar is a most worthy man."
“ You instil life into me.“
“ Generous and compassionate, how happy are those
who live around him ! The parish oweshim much. In the
first place, he has had the tabernacle and choir-window
regilt. Twenty thousand francs have been expended


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 117
managed, Iknow—May the Holy Spirit lend them his
lights; they do not want them, I know, but they will
do no harm.
“ Ah! whilst we are talking, here is the Vicar; if I
had not watched, he would have passed. Make haste,
make haste; that is he with the rosy face and large
stomach. How plumpl I have not misrepresented him,
at all events. So he is going to the entry otfice ; he is
going to put his seal to the register of the civil state;
that is another robbery they are committing on us. Do
not disturb him, but as soon as he is done there will be
no harm in accosting him. You will see how affable
he is when any one pleases him."
“ Oh, that I may please him l“ sighed Adele, quitting
the sacristan; and, that she might be in readiness to
accost the Vicar when he laid aside his pen, she sta-
tioned herself behind the chair in which he was seated.
After having looked over a few pages, the pastor turned
round, and casting on Adéle one ofthose looksin which
the feeling of self-importance was scarcely concealed
beneath an assumed benevolence:
“ You have something to say to me ?“ he asked, in
that mild tone which was acquired in the days of his
apprenticeship.
“ Yes, reverend sir.“
“ What is it about T‘
“ You see before you a wretched female, who knows not
where to lay her head ; but what most distresses me is,
that I am not alone in my misery—there are four of
us. Yes, sir, four, three females and a man—all un-
fortunate together, with not a morsel of food to place
between ourlips, not the smallest particle of furniture or
clothing to sell and 'purchase a meal's victuals. Could
you but enter the hole in which we live, you would
shudder. But even now you can judge for yourself,
you have evldence before your eyes; it freezes enough
to pierce a stone, and, cold as it is, I have only this
cotton garment, and that tattered and torn, and you
see I have only my flesh and blood to walk on."


118 unmoms or vrnocq.
“ Yes, unfortunately, I see it; but how can I help
it 1' The apostles walked barefoot.“
“In the name of God, sir, do not abandon me; if
you refuse us aid we must perish.“
" Here is another; they think we roll in riches; by
the way they open their batteries, every one would
suppose we are made of money. We are besieged,
overwhelmed, stunned; we ought to have the income
of Lafitte, and that would not suffice. There is the
Comite’de bienfai'aance, why don‘t you apply there?"
“ Ah, sir, the comité, when I am perishing of
hunger,"
“ That’s all fudge, nobody dies of hunger in Paris l"
“ Just heaven! there is then a condition more
wretched than misery! a misery of which I had not
thought.”
“ I do not doubt what you tell me of your situation,
but no one will believe impossibllities; besides, what
are your claims to the bouiities of the faithful? I am
the dispenser of them, it is true, but I must render an
account of the alms I bestow, Who sent you to me?
do you take the sacraments—who is your director '.'"
Adele hid her face, and was silent.
“ You are silent, you do not speak; I see how it is,
you are an impious creature, an atheist, a heretic, an
unbeliever 1"
She attempted to speak, but the heaving sobs of her
bosom prevented her.
“ What answer can you make, damned soul? It is
not for you that the manna will fall from heaven."
Adele prostrated herself at his feet, and embraced
his knees, saying,
“ Sir, father, I am a great sinner—I deserve all your
reproaches—I have forgotten all religious duties—yes,
I am culpable."
“ Rise, you are devoted to Satan—I say so.”
“ ()h, forgive me, I will do all that you order; I
will submit to any penance you may please to inflict."
“ It is time: you ask to be reconciled with the Lord,


neurons or vrnocq. ‘119
becauseiyou have need of him. The Lord casts you ofl'
because you are accursed.”
“ I will pray and appease him.”
“ Yes, pray to him, ofier' up to him your afiictions,
expiate by perpetual repentance the indiflerente in
which you have lived ; but as long as you are unworthy
I can hope for nothing."
“ Oh! misery, misery." ~ '
“ You are tall, strong, well made, why don't you
work ?”
“ Work! I am avoided, shunned, driven out every-
where. Oh! you are right to say so! we are cursed;
the curse clings to us, follows us everywhere. Why
cannot I begin my life again! Coquetry should not
tempt me again. When we are young, why can we
not foresee what results from it! Better would it have
been for me to break my neck than to have listened to
the Sorcery which tem ted me from my arental home!
She tempted me with nery,the seducer and I thought
she meant me well! she is the cause of all: she has
involved me in this abyss; but for her I never should
have known the police men—never.”
She covered her eyes with her hands and continued:
“ My father and mother died of grief, and! their
daughter—shall! confess it Y—instead of reforming,
have put the copestone on my ingratitude and mis-
conduct! Oh ! l have been cruelly punished for it,and
am still, although I have passed sixteen years of my
life at Saint Lazare! Yes, sir, sixteen years 1"
“ What, have you undergone a sentence of justice!
begone from me, infamous creature! you horrorize me!"
“ You drive me from you, you treat me like the
most degraded of the human race: is it not then true
that the Saviour took Mary Magdalene to his pity? is
it not true that he ardoned the adulterous woman!
Has there been no VFincent de Paule? The almoner of
the prison, when he said that the mercy of God is in-
exhaustible? No, he did not. deceive us: he did not
6 put forth a lie from that mouth so pure, and whence


120 MEMOIRS OF vmoco.
issued only the words of consolation ! Great and holy
Vincent de Paule, you of whom he so often spoke to
us; you who, to convert evil doers, attached yourself
to their chain; you, whose virtues he imitated, inter-
cede for me. Are you not still on this earth! You
would be touched by my tears, you would not repulse
me I"
“ Saint Vincent would do as he thought best; I do
as I can, and can do nothing. I repeat to you,l can do
nothing; it is very sad for you, but you understand
me, therefore importune me no further.“
Adele arose. -
“ Hear me, sir, I conjure you.“
“ It is useless."
“ Une word, only one single word."
“ This woman is insupportable! Well, what is this
word? Do not keep me in suspense; you see I am
sent for.“
He turned towards the door, and made with his
head many inclinations, accompanied with that smile
full of amenity which, on a practised physingnomy,
can ally itself to a contrary expression; he made also
with his hand an amiable and courtier-like wave of
recognition and salute.
“ One moment, my dear churchwarden, the business
is settled, and I follow you."
Adele was again struck with the appearance of the
tall figure, for the churchwarden was also the commi-
sary of bicirfaisance. Her tongue cleaved to the roof
of her mouth. The vicar desired her to speak.
“ Is it for to-day 1"
“ I am without bread 1" in the midst of sobs and
tears was ail she could utter.
“ Still the same song! You have told me so already.
Now, if you would have me take any interest in you,
begin by making your peace with heaven—Endeavour
to obtain remission of your sins—make a general con-
fession, and bring me a written testimony of your having
performed these acts of Catholicity—theu give some


MEMOIRS on VIDOCQ. 123
CHAPTER LX.
The month too soon passed away—Visit to benefactors—They have
gone—The mourning coaches—The attendants on funerals—The
apostro hes—The lackeys—The chapel—We owe truth to the dead
—The irectnr of the quadrilles——'l'he lain of Virtues—The drum
beats—Atrocious jestings—A hrawl- he excommunicnnt—Godl it
is he--ls it a vision ?-—-The vanities of an impious creature—The
'funeral-knell—The two folding-doors—-The clergy—The corners of
the pull—The tall figure Bppeurs again—Hatred of the world.
Tun month glided away but too rapidly; it expired
before the termination of the dead season. The party,
after having in vain tramped up and down soliciting
employ, saw themselves again threatened by famine.
It was the end of March.
“Thirty-one, and now a day without bread, distress
in the land," such were the first words which the lock-
smith uttered on awaking.
“ 0h, fate, that deprived me of my father !“ cried
Susanne.
“ ’Tis but too true, empty cupboard and empty sto-
machs," sighed her sister.
“ Yes,“ returned Frederic, “we have returned to
the point from which we started yesterday month, day
for day. If Mameselle Adkle could but meet again
some one of the invincibles of the eighteenth, who are
such good fellows, or only that worthy actor!“
“ Oh, I cannot anticipate any such luck as that; I
shall rather stumble over some stone, and break my
neck."
“ But yet it is you, Mam‘selle, who have always had
the best luck, and extricated us from our embarrass-
ments. I am sure that if you would reflect a little on
the best way of going to work, you would not return
empty-handed."
“ Days follow each other, but bear no similarity, and
I. have no idea which way or how to betake myself."-
M 2


124 armrorrts or VIDOCQ.
9
“ Why throw the handle away after the blade ? 'You
have been seasonany inspired, and why may not that
again occur T"
“ What would you have me do 1'”
“The officer and the soldiers who saved our lives,
the worthy player who was so generous—they are not
dead.“
“ Yes, but where can I go to seek them? The sol-
diers, perhaps, I might find; but as for the comedian,
I do not know his name, and to go in search of him
would be seeking for a needle in a bottle of hay.“
“ You know his parish?"
“ I do, myfriends, certainly; you are right. I must
find them out, there is no other hope or resource for
me; I must find them, and they will not allow us to
erish."
“ Well, I like that.“
Adele was not long in preparing herself; she ran,
quite out of breath, to the barracks, and then learnt that
the regiment had been ordered away the previous even-
ing. This information fell on her like a thunderbolt,
for then her sole remaining hope was in discovering the
abode of the comedian, her last benefactor. Sombre,
pensive, and agitated by divers presentiments, she cal-
culated the fatal and inevitable consequences of a new
disappointment. A noise, of which she did not know
the cause, was the first thing that aroused her from her
reverie. A long train '.of mourning coaches were ad-
vancing slowly, at the head of which, drawn by four
horses, covered with plumes and decorated housings,
was the funeral car, completely covered with trophies.
Twenty-four carriages followed closely after.
It could be only for some grandee that all these
pompous decorations and imposing show could be pro-
duced. Adéle remembered that, on these occasions, the
vanity of the relatives of the deceased purchased by.
alms the regrets of the poor, whom the dead never
knew when living. “ There will be mourners," she
said to herself, “ I will be of the nmbuer, and they will
pay me."


MEMOIRS or vrnoco. 125
"'In this persuasion she preceded the car, and soon
perceived, on the front of a large house those lugubri-
ous suits of hangings, &c., the profusion of which be-
token the opulence of the owner who has just left them.
Not far off was a groupe of ill-dressed persons, both
men and women, who paraded the street, some heating
with their feet, others striking their breasts vehemently
with their hands; others again, to warm themselves in
another way, were swallowing down, at the nearest
public'house, that glass of consolation, according to the
usual custom under these circumstances made and
provided.
Adéle‘s was a new face to them; she had not yet
opened her mouth, yet not one of them was mistaken
as to her intentions; she gave them umbrage, and with-
out having in anyway conspired against her previously,
they all united to drive her away.
“ Do not hurry yourself so much," cried one of the
mendicants, “ we are complete in number.“
“ Where is this ‘ere voman a coming to T“ saida
halfdrunken creature of the female sex, attempting to
block her progress.
Then came a fish-wife of the true Billingsgate cut.
“ I say my young ‘un, be off with your hungry phiz;
the three livres, the grub, and the lush, are not for you,
my lady, they will go out of your reach; if you wants
to come in time you should get up sooner in the morn~
ing. Oh, my tidy vun, you vants a yard 0' crape, I
suppose, to make you like as you should ; give her vat
she vants, of course 1 Bah l is she down in the list to
have the black clothes and things i"
“ Oh, yes," said another; “ Madame wants to be
very fine; she don't care much for the frippery, but she
wants the blunt."
In spite of these apostrophes, Adele went on her
way, and passing the porter's lodge without being per-
ceived, directed her steps to a sort of open peristyle,
under which was a troop of lackeys, some talking in a
loud voice, others playing at cards, whilst at. some
n 3
4


126 MEMOIRS or vrnoco.
paces distance, under the vestibule, transformed'into a
temporary chapel, tWQ priests were at vigils near the
coffin, reciting the litanies of the dead.
“ Well, it is a club '.'"
“ Who marks 1'"
“ You."
“ I collect and deal the cards.“
“ Give them to me to shufl'le."
“ I demand four.“
“ Are you content 7“
“ I demand again.“ .
“ My lads, we must drink to-day; they drink well,
they have drank well that
“ Chut, chut."
“ Do they hear us ?"
“ Don’t you see that one of them is asleep? How he
snores l"
“ He is playing the serpent a little, whilst the other
says his prayers."
" It is the accompaniment?"
“ Yes, the bagpipe drone.“
“ I don‘t care who comes; I have done well, for I
have got hold of the keys of the cellar, and that‘s the
main thing."
“ And I those of the larder." ~
“ Oh !' we‘ll go, and have a feast then, there's
no reason why we should not. What say you, Chas-
seur 2" Y
“ Me! I am like the coachman, only make me the
least sign, and, by Jove, if we do not take care of our-
selves, there is nobody to take care of us; and then,
you know, We don’t bury a duke every day in the
week. He plagued and worried himself enough when
living, and we should rejoice and comfort ourselves
a little after his death."
The Miserere mei Deus was heard.
“ Is that a pipe bursting? I say, my boys, the
other is waking: listen, he has got something in his
throat, he would rather have a bottle of Burgundy."


MEMOIRS or vrooco. 127
“ Good heavens, what a horrid smell ! Don't you find
it so? Has any gentleman in company got a snuff-box '!"
“ Here, I have one.“
" Will you make use ofit 'I"
“ He is already in a state of putrefaction."
“ That is no wonder; for he led such an irregular,
dissipated life."
“ They say he died ofhaving taken cantharides."
“ Vy, he’s dead enough,no doubt on‘t. These here
rich fellows thinks they may just do as they likes. They
even has little things 0‘ girls brought to 'em not ten
years old—little babies almost. Vy, it makes von‘s
hair stand on end to think 0' sich things.“
“ Ah! be seduced many a one who, but for him,
would never have been any thing but virtuous. What
a shame! quite a disgrace. These sort of men are the
.pest of society.":
“ They are so vicious, these debauched great men,
that. when all means of satisfying their desires have left
them, they are still devoted to their passions. Don't
you remember when you drove him to his house at
Mont Rouge, that he left you on the road with you;
carriage? It makes one shudder to think of the hor-
rors they did with father 'what’s his name?
The name is no consequence; butifI had any thing to
do in the government, I would burn alive such mon-
sters as these. They deserve any death."
“ Yes; but that did not hinder him from taking the
sacrament (manger le bon Dieu) every Sunday, and
carrying a wax light in the procession."
“ If that takes him to heaven: but when will they
come for the body? I think they are very slow about
it. Chasseur, go and see if they are on the road.
Quick, quick, here are the mutes.“
At this signal, the bevy of valets dispersed. Fare
time well, Jilonsieur le Comte. Adieu, Monsieur le
Marquis. Good day, duke: we shall meet again by
and by, my dear ambassador. Chevalier, in thy after-
noon let me see you again.


I28 unuotns or vrnocq.
Such were the parting salutes and the speeches, ac-
companied by shakings of hands and many flourishing
compliments of these gentlemen‘s gentlemen on part-
ing with each other. -
Adele, who, on pushing open the door, had entered
without being observed by these gentry, had not even
dared to breathe hard, lest she should draw down upon
herself some rebuff for her untimely and impertinent
interruption. Concealed by a corner of the pall, the
jest and joke and play of these liveried puppies hav-
ing ceased, she appeared suddenly amongst them like
an apparition.
“ Where did she come from? Did she fall from the
clouds ?"
“ Mind, mind, what do you want here 2"
Each looked at her as ‘if something marvellous had
happened. Many spoke to her as they passed by, but
no one awaited to hear her reply to the question they
put to her. To see the precipitation with which they
raised the siege, it might have been supposed that a
pulk of Cossacks had been surprised in their bivouac
by a French avant-guard. They were flitting about
like shadows, appearing and disappearing.
Adele went from one to the other, and said, in the
most supplicating tone,—
“ Monsieur ——"
“ I have not time," said the passer by; who pushed
her rudely to convince himself that she had a real
body.
“ Monsieur
“ I don‘t belong to the house."
“ Monsieur le Chasseur, to whom do the poor apply 1'"
“ The poor? I don't know. Ask that lad." (The
lad was a jockey boy.)
“ My little fellow, who has charge of the distribu-
tion 1"
“ Monsieur Euler, this woman asks who has charge
of the distribution T’
Monsieur Euler was the Swiss.
u


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 129
' “ Oh! there is not much trouble in finding that out.
Follow that gentleman with a plume in his hat on the
steps there, with white shoes and a black cloak."
“ The gentleman with the rufl' and the sword 2"
“ Yes ; the master of the ceremonies."
“ Yes ; the director of the quadrille figures," said a
negro, striking the porter on the shoulder.
" Hold your tongue, you saucy fellow—you ebony-
faced gentleman. Ah ! the quadrilles are pretty things.
Go, woman; you can't make any mistake: that man
who is now moving away—who looks very grand, as
grand as the Pope's almoner.“
“ I am much obliged to you, gentlemen."
Adele approached the arranger of funeral ceremonies,
and told him, in two words, the object of her request.
“ Your name?" said he, drawing a list from his
pocket. -
“ Adéle d‘Escars."
“ You are not down here in my list: are you only
amongst the petitioners? Have you been to the admi-
nistration ?“
“ No ; but I am as poor as it is possible to be."
“That I can’t help. Are you entered? Do you be-
long to the establishment T'
“No, sir."
“ Well, then, what can yon expect? The adminis-
tration supplies the poor, supplies the cloth, supplies
the torches, the administration supplies every thing." I
“ I see it but too well, there is nothing here for me,"
sighed Adele; and she was about to retire, but the
crowd blocked up the passages, and, without power to
advance or recede, she was fixed in the centre of a
groupe, the divers parties composing which pronounced
these singular panegyrics :—
“ Well, at last, thank God, they are going to bury
this —-— “
“ He deserves no more honour than a dog."
“ They say he has left ten thousand francs to the
poor."_


130 unuoras or vroocq.
“ Oh! much use they will be when they pass through
so many hands."
“They call it a gift, but it's only a restitution: he
will never give them as much as he has robbed them
of."
“ Did he never rob them in his life-time? Did he
never drive them to beggary'! a hard-hearted brute : he
would not care if you had dropped dead at his feet.
If all the persons he has made unhappy were present,
they would reach from hence to Pontoise l"
“He was a perfect weather-cock; sometimes red,
sometimes white."
“ It is such camelions that borrow colours: who
serve God and devil, and betray them both."
“ They say he refused a confessor, and yet he was a
hypocrite."
“A hypocrite! oh! that answered his purpose; but
he felt his end approaching, and as there was nothing
to be gained by feigning any longer, he threw off the
mask. I hope that he made amends for his false oaths.“
“ Sup ose he had recovered, would they have made
a peer 0 him I"
“ I will answer for that: but now they will pronounce
over his tomb aeulogistic discourse of the most brilliant
kind."
“ All lies; and I will wager that they will talk about
his faith." '
“And on the inscription we shall have it in large
letters l The marble is like paper, and bears every
thing." ~
“ Pére la Chaise ’* is the plain of virtues."
“ The plain of virtues ! yes, to those whose pyramids
point to heaven. But we poor devils! they carry us
to the common ditch; a lump of earth, and all is said
neither seen nor known, we leave no trace behind us]:
* Pére la Chaise is a celebrated cemetery in the immediate
vicinity of Paris, where many celebrated persons have been
interred, and whence many album-writers have collected epi-
taphs. Tums!“ '


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 131
“ But we leave regrets, and that is better; and be-
sides, we have never injured any person.“
“ That I agree to; but yet, it may be a weakness,
but I don‘t like to be thrown in the great hole.“
' “Why, what consequence is it when once I have
ceased to be? They may do with me as they will,
fling me in any place, cast me in the first hole.“
“ I am of this gentleman‘s opinion, and don‘t mind
what‘s done to me a wink of the eye. To be sure this
duke will have a monument; but it will be of frail
material at best, and even if it were a diamond, what
avails it.“
“ Listen; the drum beats,“
“ What! will there be any soldiers?"
“ See! they are the veterans.“
“ The same that shot the maréchal 1“
“ The Moskwa! the brave des brave: !"
“ Yes, Ney. They did not, however, sentence him."
“ I know it: they all wept like children."
“ How droll they charge arms."
“ Don’t you see that it is to pay honours ?"
There was a dull roll, which announced the moment
for the procession to move.
“ Come, poor, to your stations,“ said the master of
the ceremonies.
The march began, and the crowd of assistants mixed
in the procession.
Adele, with a bursting heart, went away from the
crowd of mendicants, whose satisfaction at seeing a
rival defeated testified itselfby a satanic burst of laugh-
ter. Forgetful of the duty prescribed to them, these
privileged wretches of the funeral magnificence trampled
and made a great noise with their feet : they all agitated
themselves with most horrible contortions, shaking their
torches which they soon contrived to extinguish that they
might get the greater profit from them. Their joy was
atrocious, it was like that which the devils in hell feel
at the torments of a condemned reprobate and sinner.
Adele, whom they abused, redoubled her pace, without
daring to cast a look behind her.


132 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
“ She has had her allowance,“ roared out one of the
furies who had saluted her when she came.
“ That‘s plain enough," said another, “ but she
wouldn‘t believe us."
“ Butshe has got served out for it," observed a third.
“ What, here you are,“ shouted out another fury,
“ little Mother Spider, with your throat dry, and your
eyes shut."
Atthis direct attack, Adele, who till then had pa-
tiently endured the gross railleries of these women,
turned round with a sort of dignity. ,
“ Oh,that's mighty grand, my princess,“ cried out
several voices.
“ Take care of yourself,“ cried the men.
Pushed about, she attempted to expostulate, but an
old man approaching her, said, “ You are only getting
yourselfinto fresh difficulties with such blackguards as
these; the best way is to treat them with silent contempt.
Do you not see that they are but feigned paupers 7"
“ Yes," said a passer by, “ but they are real mis-
creams."
“ And, moreover, downright drunkards," added one
of the soldiers, “ we know that well enough.“
Atthe height of adversity there is not light so feeble
that does not shine like a lighthouse of safety. Adele
still clung‘to the illusion, that she should discover the
player who had already extended to her the hand of
succour. This hope transported her; she went again
vto the church; she walked through the churchyard,
hoping to find some person who could tell her the hous
of her benefactor. >
“ Don‘t make any disturbance."
“ What do you mean 1“
“ He shall enter."
“ He shall not enter.“
“ Blows with a halbert T that‘s too much."
“ Down with the gendarmes, down with them."
“Hold your tongue, unless you would have your
brains knocked out.“


MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ
“ It is a shame, a disgrace.“
“ Because he is an actor.“
“ Is not an actor as good a man as another?“
“ Because they are excommunicated, they cannot be
interred in holy'ground."
“ Hold your tongue, you excommunicatists!"
“ They only had to refuse the consecrated bread
when he offered it."
“ And then, when he had his child baptised, they did
not take his money, perhaps T‘
“ God! it is he 1"
Anguish produced this exclamation from Adele.
Staggering, bewildered, she attempted to go some steps
forward ; the vociferations ceased, the tumult was ap-
peased, swords leap from their scabbards, the horse-
men mounted, and, under the escort of a troop, the
hearse was taken away.
With an eye dry and dim, Adele gazed at it as it de-
parted. She could not shed a tear. It was all a desert
around her, all had fled, all was dissipated. The circle
grew larger, the buildings themselves, moving- on their
bases, seemed to reach the confines of the immense
horizon. Adele was oppressed, the silence of nothing-
ness weighed on her soul like the massive pressure of a
horrible nightmare; the earth turned with her, and
she moved in it—was it a vision of death she saw?
The toll of the bell was heard—it was the knell, the
dreadful knell—the vision ceased—that which had fled
returned. The doors turned on their massive hinges,
and were thrown wide open. In the long perspective
ol'unusual mourning were displayed the vanities of the
atheist; the temple was converted into a sepulchre,
the mortuary veil extends on all sides the galleries, the
confessionals, the consecrated elements, the worship of
the divine Lord ofall, his pulpit of truth, his altar, his
altars, his saints—the curtain of pride covers all. On
a black tressel armorial bearings, escutcheons, cyphers,
devices, and ornaments of silver, were seen vacillating,
as do the stars of the expansive heavens in a night of
N


134 mamoms or vrnocq.
darkness. The coflin stopped-the cross was elevated,
and then appeared all the clergy of the parish, priests,
deacons, sub-deacons, having at their head the vicar
and his curates. The corpse was laid down, the cho-
risters and chaunters began the lamentations of Dies irce.
Three friends of the deceased pressed forward to take
the ends of the pall; a. fourth advances-they salute
him with deference—they give way to him ; this per-
son, before whom all bow with so much respect, is—
the tall figure again ! Adele recognised him, and said,
“ It is too much! everywhere 1 meet him, and every
where honour is paid him. This world is all deception
—-a lie—an injustice! I abhor the world—I detest it
—I execrate it l----—-—"


memorns or VIDOCQ. 137
An. “No, no; once more I tell you, you have
nothing to look for or expect."
Sus. “ But this charcoal—it is that which puzzles
me. We cannot eat charcoal."
An. “ Listen to me, Susanne! Listen, my friends
all! I have all my senses perfectly, as well as you
have them; and my determination is made. I will
sufi'er no longer. It is not existing to live as we
do. I had forty sous left; I kept them concealed; I
had my motives for so doing. The moment has ar-
rived. This is the use I intend to make of it.“
Sos. \“ Charcoal l—instead of buying bread 1'"
AD. “ Bread !—that would only be to protraet
uselessly.--No, my friends—I ant weary of life! If
you are like me,I know what we will do.”
FRED. “ Say, what T“
An. “ We will light the brasier."
Svs. “ Well, what then ?"
An. “ When it has become sufficiently hot, we
will shut the door, close up all the entrances and
openings, and place it in the middle of the room."
HEN. (weeping) “ What! would you have us all
perish '1"
Sos. “ Shall we see each other die 1'"
Faun. “ Don't snlvel, you women ;--Ma’amselle
Adkle is right; that is the only thing left to us.
. You may believa me or not as you like, ma’amselle,
but I have a hundred times thought of proposing it to
you, but I have always found you so courageous, that
I have said to myself, this should never come from a
man. Now you make the reposition to me, and I
will not refuse to join you. ut each for himself; we
do not compel others; every body is a free agent."
Hen. “ You too !-—how could such ideas enter
your head 1“ -
Far-:1). “ I'faith, when there is no longer any
hope—I went to the scavenger, and offered myself as
a sweeper, raker of kennels; I went to the ‘ spice
islands ’ (force: inodores), but there was no room for
N 3


138 memorns or vrnoco.
me; no work, however dirty, that I have not solicited,
sued for, even to offer myself at Montfaucon and the
knackers, to work at half-price ; I learnt that there was
a white lead manufactory at Clichy, where the work-
men died like flies! well, to get admission there, they
asked me for certificates. In the same way, at the
glass manufactory, to be qualified to poison oneself
by the vapour of mercury, you must have protectives.
They told me I might get employment on the port as
a ship breaker; or on the canal, wheeling the barrow
for the navigators, and I did not succeed there better
than any where else. It is shocking to see the number
of persons applying for work daily. At the Hotel Dieu,
the Wilde-Grace, where there is an infirmary-keeper
to replace, they would not receive me, because I was
not recommended by a medical man. They told me
that the. executioner at Versailles wanted an assist-
ant "
HEN. (with a movement of horror.) “ And did you
offer yourself?" _ .
FRED. “ Quiet yourself, I have not even thought
of such a thing—but only to prove how difficult it
is to get any employment, there were actually more
than three hundred applicants for the situation—and
quite certain that they would not take a discharged
prisoner. There were plenty to choose from, so if it
had tempted me, I should have been ashamed of my-
self—when we are reduced to that! "
HEN. “ Ahl that comforts me."
Sus. “ And me too.” ‘
AD. “ I feared.”
Fun. “I an executioner's helper! You should
know me, Ma‘amselle Adele. Any other' profession,
I do not say—But rather than mount in that way I
would scrape the puddles. Well, only yesterday and
no later, I had hopes that I should get employment
with those who draw the wood sledges. \Vell, this
morningI went to see about it—some one 'else had
got the berth—so I was once again floored.”


manbms or vinocQ. 139-
' HEN. “ Good Heavens ! it is sometimes when
least expected, that the water comes to the mill."
Fnen. “ Oh, as to that, it’s all chance; but with us,
when we are born under an inauspicious star, it is
in vain for us to contend against it. Itis only Ma'am-
selle Adele who has discovered the remedy."
HEN. “ To destroy oneself! Her remedy is a des-
perate, an useless one.”
Svs. “ Let her kill herself if she will, she was well
put to it to put such a notion into his head.”
FRED. “What will become of you? Susanne, I
particularly ask what will become of you ?"
Sns. “ I do not know, but—"
Fain. “ I believe so, they promised you some
stockings to mend; you would have earned a few sous;
we have lived on in hopes of getting them; when you
went to seek for them, what did they say to you? that
you had been you know where, and they would not
trust you with them."
$05. “ What a misfortune l"
HEN. “ Let each of us get a basket and go and sell
it."
Faun. “ Sell what? To get yourself taken up—
have you a permit? We must buy it, and where‘s the
money to get the goods to sell, if it were nothing but
tinder; what do you think you would get? Notas
much as the hair of my beard." .
Sus. “ I have a great mind to propose myself in
the posting bills, although it should only be as nurse to
a child.“
Farm. “ The posting bills! Still obstacles, unless
you can carry them half-a-crown ; and then, dressed as
you are, what master or mistress would take you into
their family? Suppose even, that they were to take
you, why, sooner or later, they would learn who you
were, and what you had been, and if there were any
robbery in the house. whom would they accuse? Su-
sanne of course; and other persons may and _willsteal
with impunity when a discharged convict IS in the


140 mnmoms or vmocq.‘
house, for all the imputation is cast of course on them :_
the more I reflect, the more fully I am convinced that it
is best for you as well as for me.—-It is finishing our
torments.“
Svs. “ He will not be turned from his intentions.—
Oh, how much better would it have been had I al-
lowed her to fling herself into the water !"
HEN. “If you had not ersuaded her to give up
the idea of drowning hersel —it was nothing to her,
only a yes, or a no." ~
An. “ Yes—it costs me something—it does, and I
should lie were I to say otherwise—nothing is dearer to
us than existence, and how I have clung to it; what I
have done to prolong it should testify for me, having
sufl‘ered all I have sutTered. What resource have you
that I have not? If you were younger, I would say to
on, cling to life and get it as a fate, a lottery.--You
ave an example before your eyes.-—I have been hand~
some, I may say it without flattery, and whither has
rny beauty led me? When we are advanced in life,
there can be nothing to hesitate about. Would you
prefer dying of hunger? Remember the night of the
soldiers, and all that you then endured—Now there are
no soldiers."
Sus. " No soldiers !”
AD. “ They have gone.”
Hen. “ And the comedian?"
' An. “ You must seek him in his coffin."
HEN. “ Is he dead?" -
An. “ I was at the church when they refused ad.
mittance to his body.”
Fast). “ You hear what she says, my clears—You
see Henriette—there is no actor, no soldiers for us."
An. “[There is no more well doing; there is no more
humanity; there is no more religion there is no more
God." '
Sus. “ Say not so, Adele. Would you draw down
his malediction on us 1"
An. “ His maledictionl—How long, I would ask
you, has it not fallen on_us? But now I mock at it."


MEMOIRS or vrnoco. 141
HEN. “ Do not blaspheme, lest he should punish
01
us.
An. “ Well, are we not punished beforehand? Why
make yourselfuneasy? Our hell has commenced."
FRED. “ Let us make haste, or else the fire will go
out."
An. (putting the fire on the charcoal, and blowing
it.) “ Never fear, it is burning up again. I will light it
very spedily. Are you resolved?" '
Svs. “ It will stifle us !—Help! Oh, wretches that
we are—Henriette, take the bellows from her."
HEN. (weeping, shrieking loudly and sobbing by
turns) “ Murder, guard—They are trying to kill us.—
Ah! how am I to be pitied—Oh Lord Jesus, have
mercy upon us! Good God! Good Lord! Oh, Sa-
viour !”
FRED. (darting towards the door, which was ajar,
closed it, and turning it on the double lock, put the
key in his pocket.) “ Now, cry as long as you like.
With their lamentations they will call up the neigh-
bours. The women, the women, they can do nothing
with the women. I’ ask your pardon Ma'amselle Adele,
it is not you I mean, but these poor chicken-hearted
things, who can onlycry and do nothing else, and par-
bleu. Death! why it is not swallowing the sea. Death
--when one is dead !-"
HEN. (throwing herself on Frederic‘s neck, whilst
Susanne, who had seized his hands, bathed them with
tears.) “ Frederic, dearest Frederic, I beseech you, am
not I your Henriette 1'“
FRED. “ What would you have me say T‘
HEN. “ Could you have the courage to see me die
before your eyes T“
FRED. (with emotion and making an effort to get
rid of his feelings.) “ Oh, leave me! I cannot say
anything.“
HEN. “ Would you see my corpse ?"
FRED. “ That would hurt me 1“
HEN. “ You turn away your face—you do not an_
swer me—look at me, dearest.“ , _


142 memonts or vrnoco.
Fun. (with feeling.) " \Vell!"
An. (apart.) “ They will overpower him. How
much do I regret that I did not do this alone !"
HEN. (embracing Frederic.) " You will not die,
will you 'l"
Fnrn. “ How can I resist her? oh, woman, woman !
when a man loves! I consent to every thing, we will
not die."
An. “ And bread "t"
" FRED. “ We will have some. You have heard of
Vidocq's band ?"
An. “ But too much."
Faro. “ I have the option of entering it: I shall
have three francs a day, and we will share them."
HEN. “ And you will be Oh! dear Frederic,
let us die. I propose it now."
Svs. “ And I do not oppose it.“
HEN. “ We will die together in each other's arms;
at least, I shall be sure that, after me, Frederic will
belong to no one else.“
Sus. “ Now, Adele, you are content 3"
AD. “ Yes, I am."
FRED. “ How inflexible she is! she does not change
from her purpose—the gulf must be leaped, and the
sooner that is done, the sooner will our embarrassments
terminate.“
HEN. (blowing the charcoal.) “ How slow it is to
light l"
Ar). “ Blow, blow, it will soon kindle."
Fnen. “ Don't set the place on fire, for we are not
in our own house, and there are children up stairs."
HEN. “ Poor little dears, We must not burn them."
An. “ It would be doing them a service perhaps.“
805, “ There are enough of us, four persons, that
is not often the case. It will be mentioned in the
papers." .
FRED. “ They will insert it in the journals."
AD, “ We shall be a theme of conversation in
Paris,‘_and that will be a vast consolation."


usuoms or vroocQ. 148
Hart. “ Perhaps it may be of service to others,
who knows ?"
An. “ All the charcoal is in flame."
Sus. “ We might roast an ox. And is this then
our last day 1'“
An. “ Ah! that is not all. You do not look, they
may see us from opposite, we must put the quilt
against the window."
Freer). “ That is useless, there are only the masons
there, they are on the roof, which is very high ;
besides, I think it is their dinner hour, and before they
return "
Herr. “ It will be all over with us. We must stop
up the chimney."
AD. “ Most assuredly.“
HEN. (placing the quilt there.) “ Frederic, I have
a favour to ask ofyou."
FRED. “ What is it 1'“
HEN. (lifting up an handiron.) “ A woman is
never so strong as a man, she has not the same
strength ofmindl I mistrust myself; you see this hand-
iron.— If I should change my mind, (squeezing his
hand affectionately) you understand me ."
FRED. “ I do, I do .7 Horrible situation!”
Sus. “ All is ready, what must we do 1'"
AD. “ Nothing, but lie down and await.” She
threw herselfon the floor; Susanne, Henriette, and Fre-
deric followed her example, the two latter embracing.
Sus. “ Death, death! If I cover my face, I think
I should have less fear. I cannot see it come.” (She
covers herself with a handkerchief.)
HEN. “ Frederic, put my apron over my eyes, the
light is fearful to me."
An. “ I will gaze on it to the last.“
HEN. “ I cannot draw my breath.”
Svs. “ My stomach swells. I am suffocating."
An. “ And I too, my head whirls."
HEN. “ My brain seems to boil.“


144 MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ.
Sus. “Do you feel as I do, in a cold perspiration,
and sick, oh, so sick?"
An. “ I have a tight bandage over my brows, and
a weight oppresses my limbs.“
FRED. “ It is strange, but I feel nothing uncommon.
It is, perhaps, the effect of habit.“ _
An. “ My vision is disturbed. A cloth seems to
pass over my eyes, they swell, I am giddy to excess."
Svs. “ What an 'oppression !“
Fnen. “ Well, then, I must be made of iron.”
An. “ My blood freezes.“
FRED. “ And I shall survive them !"
HEN. “ Frederic, my own Frederic, my heart is
bursting! Oh, what pain; it tears my breast open; take
away that serpent that gnaws my heart; where do you
caqy me? Who lifts me? Is it you”.I I am better now.
I am well. Ah! how delightful! I am light. I am in
paradise. Adieu, Frederic! my friends, pray for me."
An. “ My head !—what an insupportable weight !-
my heart! I can hear it beat !—it beats !-—it swells !--
what a brilliant sight l—the_ sun shines !—what a beau-
tiful light! Ah! they are thrusting needles into my
breast. Frederic, do you hear a buzzing sound? It is
there at my ear.“ '
Sus. (contracting her muscles, and beating on the
floor.) “ They will break the drum of my ear with
their hammer ; cruel, cruel creatures! they tear my
bosom—they are quiet—‘tis well, ‘tis well! Ah, am I
here, then is my soul made perfect !-a cloud—it passes
—it is extinguished—it escapes me—[ cannot retain it
—-mercy, great God, mercy.“
FRED. “ Henriette! Henriette ; (shaking her) she is'no
more, and I! Her teeth are clenched—How white
they are !—Henriette, dear Henriette, do you not hear
me? Oh! that I had a pistol, some weapon." (He
rose quickly, and opening a drawer, took out a knife.)
“ Thank God! I can join them now—I can stab myself!
there, on her body— my blood shall flow! between these


146 MEMOIRS on VIDOCQ.
Henriette was slowly reviving, her mouth was half
opened : at last her eyelid was raised, but beneath the
light of day, which dauled her, it speedily closed
a am.
g“ Dearest Henriette," said Frederic again, “ it is I,
don’t you know Frederic ?-—it is your husband."
The purple tints which were shed over the counte-
nance of Henriette disappeared. “ Ah i" said she,
(the words expiring on her lips) in a sepulchrai tone,
“ the storm is over—how it thundered l"-(and then,
recovering herself a little,) “ Frederic, is it you? It
does not thunder now, does it? The cold—ah! how
cold, very, very cold: my feet are like icicles; chafe
them, I am so cold. Shut the window . . . . are you
mad? What fire is this I!“
As well as being astonished at what she experienced,
Henriette was not in a condition to attach the least
remembrance of what she saw. Adele and Susanne,
who had recovered more speedily, gazed with dry and
:ack-lustre eyes on the brazier by which they were
ytng.
, An. “ Is it possible? You see we cannot die
though we wish it."
Sos. “ Heaven is a witness . . . ”
FRED. “ Our hour was not come."
An. “ We must think so. A dog would die,
sooner."
Svs. “ A mother who wrongs her children."
FRED. “ We leave none behind us—no brats.“
HEN. “ Seeds of misery ! That would have com-
pleted our wretchedness.”
FRED. “Well, we're advanced very far, certainly.
What has been the use of all these precautions T’
An. “ Don‘t say a word about it to me, I am in a
rage."
FRED. “ The charcoal is lost.”
_AD- “ LOSE say you! No, no, it is not lost: it
Wlll not kill us ; let us make it give us life,”
Fnao. f‘ What do you mean."


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 147
An. “ Let us forge some keys,—we will do as
others do."
Svs. “Speak lower, girl, do: if any person heard
us !“
An. “ Let them hear or not hear, what matters it?
If we are denounced, well, they will take us before the
judge, there will only be this; if all the world did
right, the judges would have nothing to do. Come,
come, henceforward I will not be such a fool as to en-
dure hunger: the good shall suffer for the bad, so
much the worse for those on whom it may fall : they
will not give us, they will not allow us to earn, then
we must take. Since they compel us, since they will
not let us be honest, I will become the greatest thief
that the earth has on its surface. If they catch me, the
fall will be at the end of the ditch: I shall still have
had some agreeable moments. Now, I do not know
myself any longer; it seems to me that at present, I
should make no more scruple of cutting a man's throat
than of wringing the neck ofa chicken."
Hen. “ Don‘t say so, Adele, it is offending God.
It is against conscience."
An. “ God! God! He would not have given us
a conscience to make us die of hunger.--Godl I re.
nounce him. Conscience! what is conscience? Have,
then, your conscience, your probity; you have expe.
rienced its worth; it is fine, very fine!"
Faun. “ Do you know, ma‘amselle Adele, that it
is not'right to use such language. I am not pleased
with you now. But if you wish us to die I am no
longer agreeable."
SUS. “ Oh, she is not so wicked any longer; what
she says falls from her lips, but does not come from
her heart."
HEN. “ It is anger, but far from her real feelings."
An. “ True, true, we will kill no person. But hear
me; we nfust eat, I return always to that starting-
place, and we have but one path before usé Hunger
o


148 mamoms or vmocq.
makes the wolf quit the woods ; if you will trust to me,
we will look out for an ‘affair,‘ and as soon as it occurs
we will put the irons in the fire: what say you, my
friends 2"
Fnrn. “ An afiair—a robbery?”
HEN. “ A robbery l"
Sus. “ Why not?”
FRED. “ I am _ the wood. they make flutes of: I
bend ,any way, and may be cooked with any sauce;
but——
Au. “ Do you want courage?”
Faun. “ Do you ask me ?-—well, a robbery then !"
An, “ But nothing more; a theft, and a theft alone
simply to acquire a positive and actual subsistence.“ ,
8115. “That is understood: after that we will be
honest again."
FRED. “ Shall we 'l—who knows 'l"
HEN, “Let us first get something to boil in the
ot, and then wherewithal to new dress us—not before
we want both. When I think that my poor man has
only a pair of trowsers to put on, and no shirt, no hat -
and he must ask long enough before he could gei
another to change . . . "
Sus. “ It is not enough to be provided just for the
moment, we must have some cash in hand, a hundred
sous apiece, to rub against another."
HEN, “ Very true ; we must try not to become
again as we now are. If we had money we might
carry on a little business; I w0uld make braces, they
say they sell well, and turn in a good profit.”
An. “Gently, gently: for the time present let us
do all we can, my children. The life of the saints be-
fore everything.”
ALL. “ Yes, the life of the saints and the rest after-
wards.”
The friends 'undertook to make a tour; and three
hours had not elapsed after this desperate ’resolution
before they had taken several impressions; keys made:


IEIOIRS or vrnocq. I49
and two rooms cleared out; but this expedition was so
little productive, that four days afterwards famine was
again in the house. It was necessary to begin again, or
to perish. They resolved on a second essay, then a
thirdhtwenty were effected in less than two months, and.
yet the party was nearly as badly off as before. They
had flung themselve into the torrent, and the torrent
hurried them headlong from crime to crime.
03


150 _ MEMOIRS or Vinocq.
CHAPTER LXIl'.
The morning walk—Ill gotten gain! bring nothing but pains—Cut“.
in the air—Gaiety—T 0 storm in preparing—1W0 keyl—Tho new.
laid egg! and the fruit-woman—The unkind landlord—A good deal
brings happiness—Precautions.
ONE Sunday morning Adele had gone out at day-
break: Frederic, his wife, and sister, were still asleep,
but awoke soon afterwards.
$115. “It seems that Adele has taken wing early
this morning ; I did not hear her go out.“
Faun. “ Nor 1, poor devil! if we do nothing, the
fault is not hers.”
HEN. “ Oh, no, certainly not; she does all the mis-
chief she can.”
Faun. “ She has all her trouble for nothing, for the
gains do not recompense the pains. Have we any
bad luck think ye."
Sus. “ Faith it's hardly worth while to be thieves."
FRED. “ They say that profit acquired by bad
means avails nobody; we don't know whether it will
be profitable or not, we have never met with a good
chance yet.”
HEN. “ Oh, it will come; we only want the op-
portunity.”
FRED. “ And whilst it is coming we are starving."
HEN. “ Oh, you have no patience.”
FRED. “ It is not being gay enough to talk, and
do nothing else all day; but that becomes tiresome."
HEN. “ Even if your senses were to leave you, we
should rub on.”
FRED. “ Yes, but very poorly."
HEN. “ Leave off complaining, and if we once get in
he veiu "
Sns. “ If ever that happens, I will make up for lost
time—I will have such breakfasts!"


neurons or vmoco. . 151
HEN. “ So will I: I will pay niyself for past depri-
vations by the choicest tit bits in the world !“
Fun. “And I tool Do you think I will throw my
share to the dogs ? I‘ll pay myself for past losses ! but
I don‘t expect it."
Sus. “He who formerly used to be so merry, and
laughed at every thing, is now the first to inspire us
with fear and apprehension.“
HEN. “ He was a careless, reckless fellow; a Roger
bon temps, (a lively, merry person) who laughed and
jested at every thing: I do not recognise him to be the
same man.“ .
Far-m. “ It is; you must know that people change:
every day we get a day older, and reflect upon it with
more seriousness."
HEN. “ Reflect! that does a great deal of good;
here, listen ! somebody comes who does not reflect
much. Do you hear her singing on the staircase 7“
$115. “It is Adele's voice. What can it be, I won-
'der, that makes her so merry ?"
FRED. “ Most certainly it is not the fine weather;
for the sky is overcast, and there is over Mont Martre
a cloud which will descend like a deluge.“
HEN. “It looks like heavy rain."
FRED. “It is a bath in preparation."
An. (entering quickly, and putting two keys 'on the
chimney place) “ My friends, no more misery ! I have -
just tried them, they work like angels ; we are masters
now and will go to work at once, no later than this
very day.“
Lifting up her gown behind, she looked at the dila-
pidation of her shoes and stockings, and sang and
danced at the same time :—
Tu ne vois pas, ma chere,
Elle a, elle a
Des trons a ses has,
Et moi je n’en ai guére;
Elle a, elle a


152 neurons or VIDOCQ.
Des trous a ses has,
Et moi je n’en ai pas *.
FRED. “ I never saw her in such a mood.”
Sus. “Nor I either: she jumps and dances about.
Oh! we shall most assuredly have some rain."
Fern. “ Well, well, you are as gay asa lark ; what’s
the meaning of all this l"
An. “Why, the meaning is, that whilst you were
sleeping I was at work, quietly but surely. Be easy,
my dears, we will have plenty of grist for the mill!
There’s " swag,’ my children! You see these keys, they
open a door, and——-”
Svs. “ But do not keep us on the rack, we are on
thorns; you see very plainly that Frederic is dying to
know—"
An. “Yourself you mean, you sly thing; he said
nothing."
SUS. “ Well, then, say it is myself if you like."
An. “I will tell you all about it (feeling in the
pocket of her apron) ; here are some new-laid eggs: I
had eight for our breakfast: I have eaten mine—."
Sus. “ That’s well; you can speak of that after-
wards.” .
An. “ I got them at the fruit-woman‘s, in the Rue
des Gobelins. You know the little humpbacked
woman whom I like to gossip with 2”
Sus. “ What nonsense she talks about her fruit-wo-
man. What is the fruit-woman to us?"
An. “ What is the fruit-woman to you! Why, if
* Look at her, my dear, and you’ll see
That she, that she
Has holes in her stockings ; but look at me,
I am as neat as neat can be;
Whilst she, whilst she
Has holes in her stockings ; you will not see
A single one if you look at me.
Tmst.


manorns or vmoco. 153
you’ll let me tellyou, you will find; if you do not wish
me to tell you “
Sus. “ Speak, speak ; go on your own way, you will
be delivered at last.”
FRED. “ Do not interru ther."
Au. “ In the fruiterer's house lives her landlord, who
is as great a miser as ever lived. He is so rich that
he cannot count his money : his wife and he have more
than a hundred francs a-day to spend, and have only a
dog in their service. The fruit-seller told me all this.
You must knothave chatted with her to some pur_
pose, and not for useless gossip. I wanted to ‘ draw’
her, and have succeeded. Then, whilst talking with her,
I kept my eyes open : without appearing to take notice
of any thing, I have seen the bags which contained the
crowns! With only half, I swear to you, that all
our life, as long as we have to live, we should not be
in want of any thing, nor be compelled to plunder.
How it would turn to profit in our hands! But fortune
always attends those who do not know how to make
use of her. This miserly old fellow of a landlord, only
think, because number eight, one of his lodgers,has not
paid his rent on the day fixed, he has made him turn
out, goods and all. I saw it: it was a wretched thing
to see: a father of a family, six children, and the wife,
who was brought to bed the previous evening. They
burst into tears, unhappy wretches ; they begged, they
implored, they supplicated; they might as easily have
softened a stone; he thrust them out into the street:
the whole neighbourhood were up in arms about it.
Well, said I to myself, old rogue, I will not lose sight
ofyou ; I will pay you off for this: to those who do ill,
ill happens; and if I cannot treat you to a turn of my
craft, the fault shall not be mine.
“ From that moment I have watched for the opportu-
nity, and to-day it presents itself. I have taken all my
measures, and he shall not escape us. He is a skin-
fiint, an usurer : there are enough who have been robbed
by him, and when his turn comes——-”


154 mauorns or VIDOCQ.
Svs. “One thief robbing another is fun for the devil
to laugh at."
A0. “ Then the devil shall laugh, depend upon it;
before night this miserly landlord shall be handled;
and without including ourselves, there are others who
shall feel the effects of it."
FRED. “ I do not clearly understand you; the tenant
will have a share."
An. “A woman just confined ! and thrust her out at
the door l It is abominable ! If it were only ten francs,
I would carry her the half of it."
Fasn. “ Ahl ma'amselle, that would give me great
pleasure ; you have an excellent heart!"
An. “ I ho e so. I should be so happy if I could do
all the good would l"
HEN. “You are right : a good action confers happi-
ness.”
AD. “ It is not to embarrass one’s self—well-regulated
charity begins at home; but to solace another, seems to
be comforting one’s self. I suffer when I see another
suffering. Thus we agree: we will send assistance to
the family; you all agree to it ?"
ALL. “Yes, yes.”
Sus. “Let us do to those who deserve it; what we
would have them do to us.”
Faro. “ But they must not know who it comes from,
that would betray us completely,"
An. “Certainly, they must know nothing about it.
Now, my dears, I will explain my plan to you: the
usurer goes to Saint Maur with his wife, and they go
on foot. They are not to return before to-morrow, so
that we have plenty of time before us. However, as
in these sorts of matters it is best to be as soon as pos-
sible, I shall start at once, you will follow me. Hen-
riette must keep watch in the street; and whilst I draw
the fruiteress to the bottom of her shop, Frederic and
Susanne must get into the passage. It is the second
pair. of stairs at the back facing the stair-case as you
ascend: there is a wicket at the door, and a stag’s


156 manorns or vrnocq.
CHAPTER LXIII.
The treasure—Anxious moments-M. and Madame Lombard—The
capricious lock—The whale and the elephant—The knitting needle
—Thieves—Tlie cou 1e rolled heels over head—The locksmith—
The ring taken out— he apron—Send for the Commissary.
BUT a very short time was requisite for the family to
dress themselves and make preparations for the ex-
pedition. When all was ready, they directed their
steps towards the Rue des Gobelins: an half hour
afterwards, and Frederic, aided by Susanne, was in a
train for working. Never had so much riches appeared
before their eyes. There were drawers filled to the
top with guineas, ducats,napoleons, and louis of all
times and periods, in sacks and parcels whose arrange-
ment betokened their contents; and moreover there was
a pocket-book filled with orders for money and bank-
notes. How many virtues, how much consideration,
how much probity, how much sterling honour was
here! Susanne and Frederic opened a casket, it was
filled with watches, necklaces, bracelets, trinkets, pre-
cious stones. They would fain have exhausted Pacto~
lus ; with their eyes they overran the treasures of Gol-
conda, but where were they first to begin? Whilst they
were hesitating, they heard a noise, and distinguished
foot-steps.
“ _Do not stir,” said Frederic, “ I think some one is
coming up.”
They both stood, without daring even to breathe.
Some one stopped at the door and tried a key—what
an amnous moment i
“We did well to return: you see what a storm was
preparing."
“ Come make haste, Madame Lombard, you are so
very slow."
“ Can't you give me time to introduce the key 2"


msmoms or vrnocq. 157
“ I think I could have opened it ten times already,“
“ Oh yes, you are vastly expeditious. I advise you
to boast about it, when you are two hours finding the
hole, and then ifI did not put a hand to it—“
“ That you often do. Give it to me, for you make
me all in a fidget with your fumbling—"
“ Fumbling! I don‘t fumble; don't you see that I
push, but it will not go in,“
“ Perhaps it has taken a whim."
“ A whim l—say rather that the pipe is stopped up.
It is your ridiculous custom to have crumbs in your
pockets, and some of them have got in, and—“
“ You shall see whether that is my fault, in a few
minutes. Give it to me, and let me blow in it a
little."
“ Here, M. Lombard, do what you like with it; (she
gives him the key.)“
“ Ah, that is right. (He blowed in the pipe, knocked
the wards, and after having alternately knocked and
whistled in it,) It whistles perfectly well, and now
ought to enter without any difficulty.“
MAD. Lou. (Trying a second time.) “ Without
any difficulty! why it goes worse than ever." ,
“ You don't turn it the right way, perhaps."
“ I turn it neither on one side, nor the other, for it
does not go in at all.“
“ Here, take my umbrella, women are so clumsy."
“ Well, I give the place up to you, now let's see
your cleverness l“
“ As clever as you. (He tries to push it.) The
devil, something prevents it! If I had anything to clean
the pipe out: call the fruitwoman.”
“ Oh you are so much cleverer than I am."
She called—“ Madame Bouleau !"
FRUITWOMAN. “ What do you want, madame ?"
MAD.'LOM. “ Have you anything you can lend us
to clean the pipe of our key? Be so kind as to come
up stairs."
FR. won. “ Will this do for you?"


15S mnmorns on vmocq.
M. Lon. “ What is it that you have brought me?
the wire that you cut your butter with 1'“
Man. Lon. “ It is too weak, my dear."
FRUITWOMAN- “ If Monsieur would put it in
double."
M. Lon. “ She is right.”
MAD. Lon. “ Double and double again, and it will
not do 1"
FR. won. “I will go and get you a match.”
M. Lon. “ A matchi that will be of less use, for
if it should break in, what should we do then T‘
FR. WOM. “ Well, will a piece of birch do out of the
broom, will that be better i”
M. Lon. “ Bring me a branch of it, the strongest
ou can find." _
The fruiteress went down and soon returned with a
twig of birch which she gave to M. Lombard.
M. LOM. “It is a faggot stick you have brought
us l"
Fa. wom. “There are none thinner; by forcing it,
you will be able to manage."
M. LOM. “ Ah, now you have made me do a nice
job: the branch has broken, and how can I get it out
again i"
F R. won. “ Do you think that a nail?"
MAD. Lou. “ It would be too short.“
FR. woM, “ Wait, and I will go and see if I can
find in my drawers some whalebone."
M. Lon. “ Whalebone l—why not oHer me an ele-
phant‘s bone 2”
FR. WOM. “ Why, what the deuce would you
have! the most willing wench can only offer what she
has.“
M. LOM. “ Have you not got a knitting needle 1'“
Fa. WOM. “ A knitting needle! let me see, who
makes stockings that I know? Ah! I remember!
the invalid who is in love with the porteress at number
17 :—-perhaps he will lend me one if I run and ask.“
MAD. Lou. ‘f Run quickly—how tiresome l“


160 MEMOIRS or vmoco.
quick, quick, Madame Bouleau, go and call the lock-
smith; that will be by far the cheaper way.“
The fruit-woman went down stairs as speedily as
ossible, but had scarcely reached the street when the
olt was pulled violently from the staple that confined
1!.
Man. Lom. “ What ails the lock 2"
M. 1.0M. “ Someone is within: we are robbed !
thieves, thieves l“
On a sudden the door opened, two persons dashed out;
knocked doWn, driven backwards, upset, Monsieur and
Madame Lombard rolled over and over. Were they
ghosts? or was it a hurricane, or a thunder-clap? The
impetus was so great, the shock so violent, that they
could not tell to what they must attribute the brutal im_
pulse they had received. The cause had disappeared,
hutthe effect remained, and the couple, so completely
levelled with the ground, deplored the catastrophe most
bitterly.
M. Lou. “ Ah, ah! I am killed outright; I am
murdered,ground to powder; every limb is dislocated;
I am massacred, smashed to death! help, help l"
Man. LoM. “ Murder, assassination! Help, help,
help ! I have got hold of him ; help me, M. Lombard,
help me."
“ M. LOM. “ Ahl mon Dieu! help! I have broken
my loins, they are beaten and mashed to a pulp ; the
wretches ! the glass of my watch is broken too, so are
my spectacles, and my limbs.“
Man. LOM. “ If you don’t come,I must let him go.
Guard, guard l" r
The fruit-woman returned, accompanied by the lock-
smith whom she had gone in quest of.
“ Ah, what do I see? The citizen on one side, and
the lady on the other; what has happened to them?
What l is the apartment opened l“
Tun Locxsrurrn. “ They have been trying to pull
the door open, and have tumbled down on all fours.“
Man. Lon. (rising up.) “ Oh, my legs are broken.“
/


Mimorns or vrnoco. ' 161
M. Lou; “ My back is all a jelly."
MAD. Lou. “ If you had not lost your senses we
should have caught them; look, I seized the apron of
one of them T‘
“ M. Lou. “ There were a dozen at least, and it
was done so suddenly and so quickly, that I only saw
five."
MAD. Lou. “ My dear Madame Bouleau, they
trampled all over my body 1 What an assault 1 grand
Dieu, I am wounded all over. Support me, pray; I
beseech you !"
M. Lou. (to the locksmith.) “My'friend,lend me
your assistance to crawl to my secretary."
MAD. Lorvr. (who had first entered.) “ Ah, the
room is in a fine plight l We have been robbed!
stripped l" '
M.Lou. (falling into an arm-chair.) “The wretchesl
they have left us nothing but our eyes to weep with."
THE LOCKS.—“ I could make a very good'shift with
what they have left behind.“
FR. WOM. “ And so could I." ‘
MAD. Loun- “ We must go and inform the Com-
missary, and get him to draw up a proces verbal,a
statement." ‘
M. Lorvr. “ But how could they contrive to get in T"
THE Locus. “ That‘s no difficult matter: with ske-
leton keys. There are so many rogues."
He examined the lock, and taking from within it a
small ring of iron, which had been put on the stern of
the lock, he added,
“ I am not astonished that you were unable to open
it, they had arranged every thing well; this must be
one of the trade who made this ring. Where is the
apron that was left in the lady‘s hands 1"
MAD. LOM. “ This is it l"
Tne Locxs. (with much surprise.) “ Can I credit my
eyesight? A comrade! I thought him an honest fel-
low—I would have laid my life upon it. Whom can
we trust, if he’s a rogue 'l” 3
P


162 stations or vrnooq.
M. Lon. “ What do you mean 1“
Tirr. LOCKS. “ I was speaking to myself. Unfortu-
nate fellow!"
M. Lou. “ I am the unfortunate.“
Tar-1 Locus. “ There are many, too many, more un-
fortunate than you (pointing to the clap of the apron.)
You see this buckle, it is my workmanship. About
eleven months since I was at La Courtille, with some
friends, one of whom, taking a great liking to it, asked
me ifI would sell it. I told him thatl would not, but
that if he was so much in love with it, I would willingly
make him a presentof it. He accepted it, we drank a
bottle or two together, and from that time the clasp has
been his, unless it has changed masters.“
M. Lon. “ And how do you call him? What is his
name, eh 1'"
Tan Locus. “ Frederic ; he is a brother workman."
M. LOM. “ A very clear account. Madame B0“-
lean, go instantly to the Commissary; tell him we have
nearly been assassinated, myself and wife, and beg him
from us to come here immediately, to receive my state-
ment, and the evidence of the locksmith; go, go."


msmoms or vroocql 163
CHAPTER LXlV.
Great joy in the house—A cloud—The work of benevolence—Prepara-
tions for a breakfast~The larder replenished—Honest projects—The
salt-cellar upset—The Commissary—The search—A visit from a
lady—A recognition—Return to St. Laure—Sentence for life.
IN spite of the most imminent danger, Frederic and
Susanne had preserved sufiicieut presence of mind to
carry off the pocket-book of M. Lombard, and put into
their pockets two or three bags of gold. On their return
to the lodging, they only required a moment to breathe,
and divest themselves of the fear they had experienced.
At the sight of the brilliant results of a capture which
had nearly entailed on them such a sad termination, all
the friends jumped for joy. Frederic then perceived
that he had no apron ; a cloud ofdisquietude appeared
on his brow, but it soon (passed away, and his gaiety
returned. They employe themselves in counting the
money, which exceeded in amount their utmost wishes
or hopes.
FBEDERIC. “ Well, come, this time we have made a
pretty good booty. We shall have no occasion to visit
the fences.”
SUSANNE. “ We must steer our boat so as to live
comfortably and happily.”
ADELE. “ And honestly ; I must return to that."
HENRIETTA. “ That of course is included. Can
we be happy unless we are honest ?”
An. “ There is nothing in the world like being able
to walk along erect, and without owing anything, or
having injured any body. Apropos, my clears, you are
not ignorant that we have a debt to pay, and a sacred
one. The first thing to-morrow morning I will go and
discharge it.. I will take them an order for a thousand
francs.”


164 MEMOIRS or vrnooo.
FRED. “ To whom ?“
An. “ You do not remember, then, what we have
promised ?"
HEN. “ Do you not remember, Frederic, the woman
in the straw ?"
FRED. “ The father of the family whom our banker
has thrust so inhumanly out into the streets—I do not
oppose your intentions. Yes, let us give a thousand
francs to these poor people, it is not too much."
The remainder of the day and the following night
passed in building castles in the air; they did not close
an eye all night. At four in the morning Adele arose
to go and perform the work of benevolence, to which
all the party had so freely subscribed. Susanne and
Henriette dressed themselves, and went out to market
to make purchases for breakfast, which was to be a
splendid one. 'Ilwo hours afterwards they returned
with abundant supplies and some domestic utensils,
such as plates, fire-irons, several stew-pans, a gridiron,
a spit, and a walnut-wood table.
Sus. “Put it down there, my good fellow; here’s.
something for your trouble. Are you satisfied ?”
PORTER. “ Forty sous! If the rich paid as gene-
rously, bread would not be so dear; any other time
when you want me ”
HEN. “ Stop, and have something to refresh you;
they are going to bring up some wine, and I am sure
he has deserved to have a drop of something to
drink." i
PORT. “ You are very good, ma‘am.”
A VINTNER'S MAN. “ Here‘s the twelve bottles of
wine you asked for; there is not a drop of waterin it :
all neat,and good measure, like yourself.”
FRED. “ Have you got your corkscrew 1'”
V. MAN. “ I never go without it."
Fnrzn. “ Draw six corks for us then to begin with."-
V. MAN. “ Will you have any more whilst I am
liege? It will give me no trouble if you wish me to do
1t.’


166 MEMoms 0F vrnocq.
Fun. “I see that you understand these matters
perfectly.”
Sus. " Who now would venture to call us any thing
but gentlefolks ?“ .
FRED. “Who would venture to do anything of the
sort but slanderers 2"
Sus. “ Does not this look well?"
FRED. Capital !"
Svs. “ Ah, now we want some plate; but Paris was
not built in a day !”
FRED, “ Oh, we can eat our partridges without
orange sauce.”
HEN. “ Never mind, I like to have it though; it does
no harm in an establishment; (she seated herself on
Frederic's knee) we shall have some; sha‘nt we? It is
so genteel (embracing him). Would you like to be dead
now ?" .
FRED. “ No, i'faith."
HEN. “ How kind was the charcoal not to destroy
us!" '
Svs. “ I should be very sorry not to find myself in
this world. It proves that, however wretched or mise-
rable we may be, we ought never to destroy our-
selves."
HEN. “ But for the masons, but for the plaster and
rubbish which fell so opportunely, the worms would
have eaten us very soon."
F mm. “ Can't we find some other topic of conver-
sation? What is past, let it be past; there is no occa-
sion to think further upon it."
Sus. “ Yes, speak of something else: mirth f0
ever! long live jollity!" -
FRED. “ I have a devil of an appetite."
HEN. “ And so have I: there will be no occasion to
press me to eat; I shall play a famous knife and
fork."
Sus. “ If Adele were but here, we might begin at
once."
I HEN, “ She cannot be long. Is it she who is mak-
ing all that noise outside 2"


MEMOlRS or vrnocq. 167
FRED. “ I should think not, unless she is bringing
the family with her.”
Svs. “ And she is quite silly enough to do such a
thing : Henriette, go and see."
HEN. “ How curious you are."
In crossing the room she ran against the table.
>SUS.‘ “ The giddy girl! she has upset the'salt-
cellar!"
“ Oh, never mind,- I will throw a little over
my left shoulder.”
She then went to the passage; and returned with
looks of fear.
“ My friends, we are lost l"
The room was instantly filled by a troop of gen-
darmes and police officers, headed by a commissary.
“ In the name of the law," said the magistrate, “ I
command you to give me all your keys. Gendarmes,
whilst we make the search, do you watch this man and
that woman; I shall look for them at your hands.”
A BRIGADIER. “ Well, they shall not escape.”
The Comrrssaav. “ It appears that they have a
festival here.‘ (Observing a snuf-boz) If I am not
mistaken, here is one of the' objects specified in the
declaration. Let us see: a tortoiseshell box with a
gold rim; on the lid, the portrait of Madame Lombard,
chased on a medallion; on the reverse, the united
cyphers of the two, in hair, with the date, and a heart
in flames, with a hearts-ease in a knot of love. TttiS
answers the description precisely. Gentlemen, Ma-
dame Lombard is here; you can judge as well as
myself, if you look at this, which perfectly coincides
with the description given.”
One of the Assrsranrs. “ There can be no doubt
of it."
COM. “Then we have detected the thieves. (to
Frederic) Do you know one Jacques Richard, of the
Rue des Gobelins?
FRED. “ I had a com anion named Richard, but he
resided in the faubourg oissonniere."


168 MEMOIRS or vroocq.
COM. “The same. Have you never had any thing
that was his T“
FRED. (Aside) “The apron he sold me.—-I see, Mon-
sieur le Commissaire, that all denial will be useless, I
committed the robbery.“
CoM. “ We did not require your confession: we
had abundance of proof.—(He produced the apron,
which he showed him.)—-Do you recognize this as
belonging to you T"
FRED, “ I recognize it but too well."
COM. “ Are you not a freed convict T"
FRED. “ Yes, I was.“
Con. “ These ladies, too—we have some accounts
of them. Gendarmes, confine this youth, and put
the handcuffs on the women. Do not spare them."
FRED. “ They are not guilty." '
Corr. “ Gendarmes, do your duty."
Whilst they were executing the orders of the Com-
missary, some one knocked gently at the door. A
police officer opened it, and a lady entered whose al-
most elegant appearance and decent exterior raised a
prejudice in her favour.
COM. “ What is the lady’s pleasure? The lady
does not 100k like a thief; but, under existing circum-
stances, I cannot do otherwise than inquire what may
be her errand here 1'”
LADY. “ What I want to do here? I came to bring
some work.”
CoM. “ You came, you say, to bring some
work?"
The LADY. (Opening her basket.) “ Here, look,
there is no occasion for mystery. These are muslin
bands which I have brought to be embroidered.
There are thirty-four ells : must I unfold it 2"
Com. “ No, no;~that is not necessary: but since
you work, of course you are in business T’
LADY. “ I keep articles of embroidery, and have
an assortment of the newest kind. You are married,
sir, I presume: if your lady should wish to make a


170 MEMOIRS on 'VIDOCQ.
F. LAG. “You are right, Coco: it is Adele! It is
she as surely as I shall die in day."
C. Lac. (putting his hand into the lady‘s basket and
feeling in it) “ I will wager that there is a bit of smug-
gling here; it sounds like iron."
“ Let me be sure what it is.”
LADY. “ I will spare you the trouble." She opened
the basket, and taking out a bunch of keys with a
bundle of receipts, which she threw into the middle
of the room.
“ Yes, I am Adhle, and what then ?”
COM. “ She will make the quartette.”
BRIGADIER. “The country dance is then complete."
CoM. “ This young lady must be strictly watched.
Keep an eye on her." I
Before the tribunal Adele confessed all her crimes;
but to extenuate her misdeeds she joined to the avowal
a recital of her troubles. The jury groaned to hear
them; but the narration did not alter a sentence to per-
petual confinement. It was the first time that so ter-
rible a sentence was carried into execution against a
female.
When she came to have her head shaved, and to put
on the gray frock, Adele shed a torrent of tears: “ After
having strived by every means to be honest or to die,
to be thrown alive into the tomb ! These gates of Saint
Lazare, which I have seen close upon me, will never
open again. Never! never! for perpetuity! for per-
petuity !" she repeated incessantly, and in the most
heart-rending tones, and her words half stifled with
sobs. These sorrows have not yet terminated—ADELE
suffers yet.


mnmoms or vrnocq. 171
CHAPTER LXV.
THE CHEVALIERS GRIMPANTS.
The donncurs de bonjoars—The librar of a bonjourier—The thin shoes
—-The sins of families—Perpetua laughter—The gonpineur a la
desserte—The mistaken forgers—Advice to the reader.
Tun Chevaliers Grimpanta, called also voleurs au bon-
jour, donneurs dc bonjours, bonjouriers, are those who
introduce themselves into a house and carry off in an
instant the first movable commodity that falls in their
way, The first bonjouriers were, I am assured, servants
out of place. They were at first few in number, but,
soon acquiring pupils, their industry increased so
rapidly, that from 1800 to 1812, there was scarcely a
day that robberies were not committed in Paris of from
a dozen to fifteen baskets of plate. Coco Lacour, from
whom I have this fact, has told me that, at the com-
mencement, all the bonjouriers made a common purse;
but at a later period, when they found amongst them
idlers, who, without taking the least trouble, or making
the slightest exertion, were desirous of sharing in the
common spoil and general produce, this co-fraternal
combination ceased to exist, and each began to work
solitarily, and on his own account.
The most famous bonjouriers, at least those who were
pointed out to me on my entrance into office, were
Dalessan, Florent, Salomon, Gorot, Coco Lacom',
Fraanort, Cheinaux. Hauteuille, Mayer, Isaac, Levi,
Michel, Tétu, and some others whose names do not
at this moment occur to me.
The Almanach du commerce, I’Almanach royal, and
that with twenty-five thousand addresses in it, are, for
a bonjourier, the most interesting works that can be
published. Every morning, before they go out, they
consult them; and when they purpose visiting any
\
Q 2


172 MEMOIRS or vroocq.
particular house, it is very seldom that they are not
acquainted with the names of at least two persons in
it; and that they may effect an entrance, they inquire
for one when they see the porter, and endeavour to rob
the other.
A boujourier has always a gentlemanly appearance,
and his shoes always well made and thin. He gives
the preference to kid before any other leather, and takes
care to bruise and break the sole that it may not creak
or make any noise ; sometimes the sole is made of felt;
at other times, and especially in winter, the kid slipper,
or dogskin shoe, is replaced by list shoes, with which
they can walk, go up stairs, or descend a Staircase,
without any noise. The theft au boujour, is effected
without violence, without skeleton keys, without bur-
glariously entering. If the thief sees a key in a door of
a room, he first knocks very gently, then a little harder,
then very loudly; if no person answers, he turns the
handle, and thus enters the antecharnber. He then
advances to the eating-room, penetrates even to the
adjoining apartments, to see if there be any person
there; returns, and if the key of the sideboard is not to
be seen, he looks in all the places in which he knows it
is generally deposited, and if he finds it, he instantly
uses it to open the drawers, and taking out the plate,
he places it generally in his hat, after which, he covers
it with a napkin, or fine cambric handkerchief,which,
by its texture and whiteness, announces the gentleman.
Should the boujourier, whilst on his enterprise, hear
any person coming, he goes straight towards him, and
accosting him, wishes him good morning (le bonjour) "
with a smiling and almost familiar air, and inquires ifit
be not Monsieur “ such an one," to whom he has the
honour of addressing himself. He is directed to the
story higher or lower, and, then still smiling, evincing
the utmost politeness and making a thousand excuses
and affected bows, he withdraws. It may so happen,
* Whence the name of “ bonjourier," &cr—TnAnsL.


174 MBMOIRS or vrnocq.
until the police arrive, but when that has occurred, he
resumes his pristine serenity, and the muscles, pregnant
of a smile, return to their accustomed laxity.
The majority of the thieves in this particular line -
commence their incursions with morning, at the hour
when the housekeepers go out for their cream, or have,
a gossip whilst their masters and mistresses are in bed.
Other banjouriers do not open the campaign until near
dinner time; they pitch upon the moment when the
plate is laid upon the table. They enter, and in the
twinkling of an eye, they cause spoons, forks, ladles,
&c. to vanish. This is technically termed goupz'ner d
In desserts, (clearing the cloth).
One day one of these goupineurs (‘1 la desserte was on
the look out in a dining room, when a servant entered
carrying two silver dishes, between which were some
fish. Without being at all disconcerted, he went up to .
her, and said,—“ Well, go and bring up the soup, the
gentlemen are in a hurry."
“ Yes, sir," said the maid, taking him for one of the
guests, “ it is quite ready, and if you please you can
announce the dinner."
At the same time she ran to the kitchen, and the
goupineur, after having hastily emptied the dishes, thrust
them between his waistcoat and shirt. The girl re-
turned with the hroth, the pretended guest had retired,
and there was not a single piece of silver left on the
table. They denounced this theft to me, and from the
statement given, as well as the description of the person
committing the robbery, I thought I had recognised my
man. He was called Cheinaua', alias Bag/er, and was
discovered and apprehended in Saint Catherine’s mar-
ket. His shirt was marked with the circumference of
the dishes, in consequence of the remains of the sauce
left in them.
Another body of bonjouriers more particularly direct
their talents to furnished houses.
The individuals forming this class are on foot from
the dawn of day. Their talent is evinced by the adroit


176 uzuoms or vmocQ.
Distrust all hawkers of glass, sellers of wooden
spoons, menders of crockery, savoyards, and that
roving army of men and women who carry about mus-
lins, linen, calico, &c. &c. Follow the milliners who
go up stairs with their cards and boxes, sellers of deco-
rations for toilettes, and others who come to offer you
goods: all these trotters and trampers are thieves, or
in alliance with thieves, to whom they give all re-
qhuisite information. Always be on your guard when
t ere are, or after there have been, workmen in the
house you inhabit. Most frequently one or more rob-
beries are committed after the departure of masons,
tilers, whitewashers, bricklayers, &c. Never deal with
old clothes' men, old lace buyers, but in the street. If
you can do otherwise, never lodge in the same house
with a washerwoman, a medical man, a midwife, a
commissary of charity, 21 pawnbroker, a justice of the
peace, or commissary of police, a lawyer, or a con-
stable. Avoid houses where there is much bustle, and
perpetual ingress and egress of people.


zumrorns or vrnoco. 177
CHAPTER LXVI.
THE BONCARDIERS.
The boncardier on the look-tint-—Keep a good dog—Advantages of
disorder—Children's- playthings and crockery—The extended cord—
Deronatlng peas—Regn ar passports.
Tar: BONCARDIE'RS are thieves who rob shops during
the night. Boncardierr never plunder from a shop-
keeper without having first reconnoitred the obstacles
that may be in the way of their enterprise. When
they have projected an entrance into any particular
shop, morning and evening, for several successive days,
they lurk about in the neighbourhood, to assist at the
opening or shutting up of the place. They then re-
mark how the fastenings are made, if they are difficult
or not to draw back : they endeavour to ascertain whe-
ther or not there be a dog on the premises, or if any
person sleeps there. Frequently, to be more assured
and to obtain all the information they require from the
fountain head, they go to the shopkeeper under a pre-
tence of purchasing; sometimes they do actually buy,
but always mere trifles, which they are as long in de-
ciding upon as possible. No one is so indecisive as a.
boncardier on the look out: he comes, he goes, comes
again, goes again, returns—and when the price is
agreed upon he still wavers as to his choice.
The shopkeeper who happens to perceive the same
individual espying the approach to his establishment,
or has a visit from one of those purchasers who bate
him down, “ chisel" him down. penny after penny, will
do well to be on his guard. Let him procure a good
dog : the largest are the best for defence; but for
watching, I decidedly give the preference to a small
one, that breed which has the finest ear and sleeps the
lightest. The custom of having some person to sleep


178 nnmoms or vrnocq.
in the shop is one that cannot be too strongly insisted
on or commended. ,
The boncardierr are generally well known thieves,
already marked by the police, and, therefore, but sel-
dom go out by day, for fear of meeting the police-
agents.
cMost generally a shopkeeper, before he retires to
rest, desires his clerk or shop girls to put every thing
in its place: chairs, stools, ladders, and all the move-
able furniture. He would act more wisely were he
to desire them to do precisely the contrary, for the
greater the confusion the more thieves are perplexed
and embarrassed. He would do much better were he
to leave his shop in disorder, a chair upset, a stool
well placed for any one to tumble over; the least noise,
and consequently the slightest fall, leads to inevitable
detection. Boneardierr seldom visit crockery sellers,
or dealers in children’s playthings and toys; at the
shops of the former breakage is to be feared; at the
latter, the incumbrances are dangerous. What perils
to encounter in traversing in darkness amongst legions
of animals! a hand touches them, a foot is awkwardl
placed on one, snap they go: a shepherd is knocked
in two, or a lamb bleats. Flight is inevitable—the
alarm is given.
The country boncardiers are for the most part osten-
sibly tradespeople who travel. They never arrive but
at night at the place where they intend to levy con-
tributions. A few moments afterwards they commence
their operations, and the goods, as fast as they are
stolen, are deposited in their travelling cart. The job
finished, they proceed to another place, where they sell
piecemeal what they stole wholesale. If they have
appropriated to themselves articles of gold or silver
easily recognized, they convert them into ingots.
One of the first cares ofa bonem-dier is to alter the
appearance of the booty they have acquired. If they
be silks, or woollens, or cambrics, &c., they take off
the end of each piece, and cut out, or in some way de-


MnMoms or eroco. 179
stroy, the mark or number that can [indicate that they
procured them not in the regular way of trade,although
they sometimes visit the manufacturers themselves.
The fall of a few light planks placed on a very slight
cord extended across the shop about four or five feet
from the ground, is the best trap that can be laid for
the detection of a boncardier, particularly when they
have commenced their expedition without a dark lan_
tern. When they walk groping along, their hands are
thrust forwards, and it may happen that they touch
the cord; but then the thieves gain nothing, for the
slightest motion communicated to the string will cause
the planks to fall, and considerable noise is produced;
the thieves fear that some persons will come, and as they
have no inclination to be caught in the very act, fia-
grante delicto, however bold or determined they may
be, they make ofl‘ as fast as possible. Detonating
peas thrown on the floor may also cause a timely ex-
plosion and alarm. 1
There are not means wanting whereby to protect per
sons and their property from the attempts of the bon-
oardiers ; but these methods are only efficacious whilst
kept secret, and it would not be prudent to divulge
them here. A German proverb says that “ a good
lock maker a skilful thiqff' that is, because a good
lock is not a mystery, but I fear to explain myself fully.
I think these thieves might be reduced to complete
inaction if honest folks would be advised to reflect on
the circumstances which have thwarted the best pos-
sible devised plans for effecting a robbery. During
some years, working locksmiths have imagined amnlti-
tude of secrets, traps, and surprises; but all these in-
ventions, so very expensive, are not within the reach
of the community at large. Let those persons who
wish to be in security at a small expense, and protect
themselves and property, come and consult me, and
I will, with pleasure, initiate them into plans of but
trifling cost. Robbery is like swindling, we can
annihilate it when we will; but it is only confi-


180 unuoms or vrnocq.
dentially that I can reveal to the parties interested the
system which must infallibly lead to this result without
the vigilance of the police, which is so frequently
eluded.
Whilst mentioning the country boncardiers, I have
forgotten to remark, that, as well as the escarpes or
assassins by profession, they are always furnished with
regular pass iorts, very correctly examined by the au-
thorities of t e districts through which they chance to
pass. It must be remarked, that it ' is in France only,
that honest persons incur any risk in travelling without
apers: rogues, on the contrary, take care how they
bring themselves under the law and ordinances, by vir-
tue of which a. brevet de circulation is required for the
least change of place. If I were a gendarme, the per-
son bearing a passport that had undergone the visa
should always be suspected by me. Dangerous vaga-
bonds and ramblers have great care how they have it
noticed, and set down, as it were, at every step, that
they are not in a state of vagabondism, or wandering
about without end, purpose, or business. The man of
irreproachable character gives himself but little uneasi-
ness respecting these formalities; he passes them by,
either because he is negligent, or because he has an ob-
jection to placing himself in contact with anything that
bears the name of police. As he has a consciousness
of his own innocence, both as respects his motions, his
intents, and his actions, he does not think that every
body in the world should have a right to say to him,
“W here areyougoing to? lVIiere do you come from 1'" If
he loves his dignity,his liberty, his independence, 3. pass-
port is to him a real humiliation, because the necessity
of pulling it out whenever and wherever it is asked for,
exposes him to the inquiries, to the impertinent obser-
vations ofa gendarme, who can scarcely read, or of a
patrol who is no better informed. The gendarmes
themselves are so well persuaded to ask any person for
his passport is to afi‘ront him, that they very seldom
nquire o well-dressed persons: they generally content


mmoms or vmocq. 181
themselves with looking at them, and saluting them as
they pass.
A well-dressed man is perhaps a friend of the attor-
ney-general, the sous preffet, or the mayor; a well-
dressed man is perhaps a man in otfice, whom it is best
not to disturb. The injunction to show a passport is
always more or less offensive; it is an order which
ofl'ends self-love, because it comes from so low a source,
and there is no citizen who does not esteem himself,
and think himself, higher in rank and consideration
than a gendarme. I say that this injunction is an order.
I add that it is a most imperative order, because it is
impossible not to obey it: and then, by a very natural
susceptibility, the feelings revolt at the thoughts of a
motiveless suspicion. The law prescribes, that the
gendarme should consider as suspected every individual
whose countenance is not familiar to him. Thus, I am
suspected, not because my conduct has legalized this
species of precaution, but from the sole fact of my exist-
ence; the law insults me. '
This is not all; according to political circumstances,
or the caprices of local authorities, a passport applied
for has more than once been refused. A passport, then,
is a permission, it is moreover a tax. Let us hopethat,
in future, all the inconveniences that I have described
will disappear. I do not presume that they will en-
tirely do away with passports, but that they will sup-
press the abuses and vexations to which they give birth,
and that they will impose on us no longer those super-
fluous posting-bills, in which the vagueness of a de-
scription that suits every person, exposes us to perpe-
tual suspicion and impertinence. Remember the un-
fortunate Chauvet, the victim of a mistake of M. the
king’s attorney-general of Saint Quentin.
VOL. 1v. 1‘


182 MEMOIRS or vrnocq.
CHAPTER LXVII.
THE DETOURNEURS AND DETOURNEUSES.
The good hiding-place—The customer in a hurry—Magic words—The
pre aratem's—Boxes with double bottoms— Secret pockets—The
chi d on the counter—A woman who knew how to handle her feet—-
Advice to jewellers—The mendicnnt-The chipeun of distinction.
Tun robbery (‘1 la detoume is that which is effected whilst
making purchases at a shop. This species of plunder is
practised by individuals of both sexes; but the detour-
neuses, or lady prigs, are generally esteemed more ex-
pert than the detourneurs, or gentlemen pn'ga. The
reason of this superiority consists entirely in the differ-
ence of dress; women can easily conceal a very large
parcel. I have followed detourneuses who, having be-
tween their thighs a piece of stuff twenty-five or thirty-
ells in length, walked without letting it fall, and went
in‘this way for a considerable distance without appear;
ing the least encumbered.
This is the mode adopted by the thieves, male and
female, a la detoume. One of the gang goes to a shop
and asks for several descriptions of goods, which he has
opened, and whilst he appears occupied with choosing,
one or two accomplices come in to purchase other goods.
They always ask for the articles which are kept in the
upper shelves, and behind the shopkeeper; and whilst
he is turning his back to seek for the goods asked for,
one of the thieves takes up what is most convenient and
nearest, and immediately makes ofi‘.
Robberies it la detourne are very frequent both in
Paris and in the country; they are committed in great
numbers at the fairs of St. Denis, Beauca'ire, Guibray,
Rheirns, Metz, and Montmerle, near Lyons.
The detoumeusea are always elegantly attired, unless
they are dressed like countrywomen, and then their


MEMOIRS or vmoco. 188
garb'is rich: they have what they call good and hand-
some, and for the most part represent themselves to be
shopkeepers.
,' The best way to escape their clutches is not to show
them any new articles until you have put away that first
produced. Thus it is easy to count what is put
on the counter. In retail shops it would be an advi-
sable plan, when there are many customers to serve,
that from time to time the shopmen should say to each
other, deua: sur diz- (two on ten), or else, allumez Ies
gonzesses (twig the prigs). I will beat a thousand to
one that, on hearing these words, the thieves, who have
very fine ears, will make haste to take themselves away.
Detourneurs and (letourneuser employ all sons of
expedients to attain their object, and rob the shop-
keeper. They who usually fill the character of prepa-
rateurs select before hand and lay aside on the counter
the articles they wish to appropriate to themselves; as
soon as all is ready, and the moment is opportune, they
make a signal to their accomplices who are outside,
They enter, wish to be served, and are in a great ap-
parent hurry; the shopkeeper, not to lose a customer.
divides his attention, and whilst he is puzzled what and
who to answer, the goods disappear. Thieves who
prig clear muslin lace, napkins, or other light and small
articles, have with them boxes made of pasteboard, and
apparently carefully tied up, but which have a false
bottom which is moveable, and gives a facility of in-
troducing underneath those articles on which they lay
them down.
The detourneuses have pelisses or mantles, the lining
of which form a pocket large enough to contain many
articles; when they have not cloaks they have shawls,
of a size to favour their projects ; the petticoats of those
who vare dressed like peasants are, in fact, game bags,
with secret pockets and divisions.
Some detourneuses are attended by a nurse, who car~
ries a child, dressed in a very long frock. The nurse
places the child on the counter, and, on liféiug it up,
a


184 r _ MEMOIRS or vmocq.
secretes also those articles which her mistress has placed
conveniently in the way. Detourneuses of an inferior
grade have baskets with a double bottom. I knew a
celebrated plunderer of lace, named Dumaz, who to
attain her ends acquired a singular knack. They showed
her Mechlin or English point lace, and, on examining it,
she endeavoured to drop a piece, and, if it were not
perceived, with her right foot, the toes of which were at
liberty, she placed the lace cleverly in her shoe, which
was made large enough to receive it. Sometimes, be-
fore Madame Dumaz left the shop, the Shopkeeper
missed the lace ; she insisted on being searched, no one
would ever think of a receiving shoe, and as they found
nothing, they were compelled to apologise to her, and
to think that the piece of lace had disappeared before
she came in. Who the deuce would have imagined
that it was requisite to examine her feet as well as
hands? The catechism only alludes to the picking and
stealing of the hands.
Jewellers are very subject to visits from detourneurs.
One named Velu, alias Henri, an officer of the free
company of Simeon, passed his time in considering
the jewels and watches exposed to view, and when-
ever he discovered a mass of rings, or other valuaJ
ble ornaments, which, according to custom, are laid out
in cases placed in the exterior window, he observed
them with attention, and the next day went to the
identical shop to purchase a ring. According to their
usual practice they presented to him several to choose
from, and whilst appearing to try one on, he abstracted
some articles from the groupe of gold ornaments, and
substituted one similar in appearance, but unfortunately
only of brass. If the rogue had not purchased, they
might have suspected the fraud, but he did not try to
bate them down, and paying the price demanded, the
brass was placed in the shop front to await the coming
of another customer.
One Florentin was one day at a jeweller's, purchas-
ing brilliants, unset; a man came to the door asking for


MEMOIRS or erocQ. 185
charity. Florentin took a piece of money from his
purse and gave it to him; the piece of money slipped
from his fingers, the beggar stooping down, picked it up
and went away. ,
This circumstance was scarcely remarked. The ur-
chase concluded, Florentin laid down four hun red
francs, and had a bill of parcels given to him. All was
settled, when at the moment he had closed the parcels,
the jeweller perceived that he missed a gem valued at
from five to six thousand francs; they looked every-
where for it ; the paper containing it could not be found.
F lorentin said that he would not go out until they had
searched him. That they might not disoblige him, they
did search, but nothing was found on him but the pur-
chase he had just completed; he had excellent papers
and testimonials with him, and everything tended to
rove that he was a man of integrity and good conduct.
hey lethim go, and whither did he bend his steps?
to rejoin the mendicant called Tormel, alias Franz, his
accomplice, who, with the piece of money, had also
picked up the parcel of diamonds which F lorentin had
expertly let fall.
Shopkeepers of what class soever, particularly re-
tailers, cannot be too much on their guard: they should
never forget that in Paris there are thousands of male and
female thieves o la detourne. I here only speak of robbers
by profession; but there are also amateurs, who, beneath
the cover of'a welLestablished reputation, make small
acquisitions slyly and unsuspectedly. They are very
honest people they say, who with little scruple indulge
their propensity for a rare book, a miniature, a. cameo,
a mosaic, a manuscript, a print, a medal, or a jewel
that pleases them; they are called Chipeurs. If the
Chipeur be rich, no heed is paid to him, he is too much
above such a larceny to impute it to him as a crime; if
he be poor, he is denounced to the attorney-general, and
sent to the gallies, because be robbed from necessity.
It must be owned that we have strange ideas as to
honesty and dishonesty. 3
n


mmoms 0F vmoco. 187
thirty francs ; I am going a little way to carry a bonnet
home, and when I return I will come and settle with
you, but you must take otf something.”
“ Well, well, we shall see," says the watchmaker.
One hour, two,—-three pass away, no one returns;
he then determines on going over to the hatter‘s, when
the whole affair is explained.
It frequently occurs that two shopkeepers are robbed
by the same person. One of the female practitioners
in this line, named Connartle, went to a linendraper's,
and asked for some cards of lace for the wife of the
goldsmith opposite: the draper did not hesitate to
give them; la Connarde with abandbox in her hand
went to the goldsmith's, and asked for two gold chains
for her mistress who was opposite; then going out
~ immediately, without leaving the bandbox, she returned
to the linendraper‘s.
“ Madame,” she said to her, “ my mistress wishes
to show the lace to one of her friends.”
“ As she pleases, we are in no hurry about it."
She then returned to the goldsmith’s: “ Madame," she
said, “ will examine the chains, and when I have re-
turned from my errand, I will try and agree with you
for a small one for myself."
The servant disappeared ; on both sides of the way it
was thought that all was right; at last the linendraper
was the first who became impatient, and she went over
to see her neighbour.
“ Well, what do you think of the lace? You can‘t
do better than keep them all.“
“ Do you think I would take lace for my chains 1'"
“ Did I not send you abandbox full this morning by
your servant '.'"
“ You mean to say that your nurse came to ask for
two fashionable chains for you."
“ Neighbour you are dreaming most certainly.“
“ I think you are."
“ Nonsense, I did not come to joke, but inquire
about the lace.“


190 mnmoms or vroooQ.
tise this species of robbery have taken the name of
Careurs.
There are no expedients to which these rogues do
not have recourse to dupe the tradesmen : to-day they
employ one stratagem, to-morrow they have another;
but there is always some exchange in the afl'air; and
thus, whatever he the pretext under which a stranger,
man, woman, or child, present themselves with and
offer to exchange money, it is prudent to turn a deaf
ear, and dangerous to yield to the temptation. How
many money-changers, lottery-office keepers, tobacco-
dealers, bakers, vintners, grocers, butchers, 8m. have
been duped by these adroit cheats, who most particu-
larly address themselves to extensive retail dealers!
The Careers are easily known, for as soon as the
till is opened to select the money that they pretend to
want, they infalliny plunge their hands into the drawer
as if to help in the selection, or point out the particular
pieces they require. If, by chance, the shopkeeper has
occasion to go into his back shop to get the change for
the piece of gold tendered in payment, they follow him,
and arrange so well, that they contrive to get their
fingers into the bag.
Nearly all the Careurs are gypsies, Italians, or Jews.
The woman Caron, bf whom we have heard in the pre-
ceding volumes, was a most expert Careuse. One
day she entered a liquor-shop,kept by the Sieur Carlier,
in the market Saint Jacques. Madame Carlier was
alone. The woman Caron called for a glass of aniseed,
paid with gold, and made her “ plant" so well, that, after
ten minutes conversation, the mistress went into the
room to get a bag containing seven hundred and fifty
francs. At the end of a quarter of an hour Caron went
away, but scarcely had she departed when Madame
Carlier, who can attest the fact, as she is still living,
counted her money, which she found reduced to
half its original amount. The Careuse had so com-
pletely wheedled her, that in her presence she really saw
double. This robbery having been denounced to me,
I


MEMOIRS or vrnoco. 191
by the skill displayed I felt convinced I knew the
authoress of it, who was apprehended, convicted, and
sentenced.
;There is not, I believe, any presti-digitator (slight-of-
hand-man) {in the world who can compete with the
famous Duchess mentioned in these Memoirs *. One
day, whilst a baker's wife, in the Rue Martinvillefat
Rouen, was examining a sum of two thousand francs
which she was carrying in her apron, she took from her
nearly half. The baker's wife, feeling that her load was
so much lighter, found that she was robbed, and was
going to have the Duchess apprehended; but she would
not give her the chance ofdoing so, saying to her :— M
“ Look, ma'am; count your money.”
The baker's rib counted, and found it right to penny.
v The male and female purloiners d la care are also
very expert in effecting a substitution of one article for
another. A jeweller shows a gold ornament or precious
stone ; they purchase a trifle, and leave crystal or
paste in lieu of some valuable trinket or gem.
The woman Caron, the Duchess, and another gypsey
called la Gaspard, had devised a singular means of
robbing priests. Clothed in mourning, (to imitate,
as much as possible, the widows of a rich farmer,) they
went to church, and endeavoured to draw into conver-
sation the letter-out of chairs or the candle-lighter.
They know that these inferior persons like to gossip.
The pretended widows questioned them on the subject
of the pecuniary situation of each of the ecclesiastics of
the parish, and as soon as one of them seemed worth
“ powder and shot" (valoir le coup defusil, that was their
expression,) to obtain access to them, they desired them
to say masses, or else, poor frightened souls, they sub-
mitted to them some case of conscience, and testified
a desire to accomplish good works. It was their inten-
tion to give alms, and they besought the priest to point
out to them the unhappy and indigent whom they
* Vol. i. p. 59 8:0; and vol..iii. p. 184.


192 memoras or vrnoco.
could solace in their misery. The priest did not fail to
tell. them of several poor wretches who wars in deep
distress, and fitting objects of their bounty ;. and they
instantly hastened to visit the necessitous paupers men-
tioned to them, either giving them money or clothing.
“ It is to the recommendation of M. Such-an-one,”
they told them, “ that you are indebted for the interest
we take in your unfortunate situation.“
These indigent parishioners ran to thank M. Such-an-
one, who was enchanted at his penitents. He was
their ghostly adviser‘ and spiritual director; he knew
their inmost hearts, they were all virtue ;he would have
administered the sacrament to them without confession.
But once thus established, this confidence which he had
in the pious relicts cost him dear. One morning, or
one evening, the time of day is not of much moment,
the ecclesiastic was completely plundered, and the
pious women disappeared, and were seen no more.
They robbed in this way a priest of St. Gervais,
whose watch, purse of gold, and other valuables they
took; and a priest of St. Medard was in a similar
manner laid under contributions by these gypsies.
When they had thus reduced the servant of God 'to a
nakedness perfectly apostolic, they put the copestone on
their wickedness, by robbing the unfortunate creatures
whom they had assisted. They went to their house,
inquired into their wants, made them open the cup
boards, drawers, examined every article in their ward-
robe, under pretence of seeing what they most needed,
and if, during the operation, they saw a watch, buckles,
chain, or anything of value, they secreted it, and then
manifesting a desire to go away, “ It is well, my
children,” said mother Caron; “ I know what you want
better than yourselves ;" and at the same moment she
went out, taking care, to prevent an .immediate disco-
very, to make them accompany her to the bottom of
the staircase. The people whom these wretches plun-
dered with such atrocity were usually poor creatures,
who, even in the depths of the greatest distress, have


mmoms or vrnocq. 198
preserved still some relics of former days and original
ease.
WhilstI was at the police, more than sixty com-
plaints, in which were described such acts, were de-
nounced against the woman Caron or her daughter.
At length I contrived to arrest these abominable crea-
tures, who are still in prison. The gypsies do not con-
fine themselves to these means of appropriating to them-
selves the property of another: they frequently commit
murder, and they have the less objection tocommitamur-
der, because they have no feeling of any kind of remorse;
and they have a peculiar kind of expiation whereby
they purify themselves. For a year they wear a coarse
woollen shirt, and abstain from “ work“ (robbing).
This period elapsed, they believe themselves as white as
snow. In France, the majority of the persons of this
caste call themselves Catholics, and have every external
show of great devotion. They always carry about
them rosaries and a crucifix; they say their prayers
night and morning, and follow the service with much
attention and precision. In Germany, they seldom
exercise any other calling than that of horse doctor, or
herbalist: some addict themselves to medicine, that is
to say, profess to be in possession of secret means of
effecting cures. A vast number of them travel in
bodies, some tell fortunes, others mend glass, china,
pots, and pans; woe to the inhabitants of the country
overrun by these vagabondsi There will infalhbly be
a mortality amongst the cattle, for the gypsies are very
clever in killing them, without leaving any traces which
can be converted into a charge of malevolence against
them. They kill the cows by piercing them to the
heart with along and very fine needle, so that the
blood flowing inwardly, it may be supposed that the
animal died of disease. They stifle poultry with
brimstone; they know that then they will give them
the dead birds; and whilst they imagine that they have
a taste for carrion, they make good cheer, and eat
delicious meat. Sometimes they want hams, and then
s


194 MBMOIRS or vrnocq.
they take a red herring and hold it under the nose of a
pig, which, allured by the smell, would follow them to
the world’s end.
I shall not ex tiate more fully on the manners of
the gypsies, con ning myself to referring the curious
reader, to make the most ample acquaintance with these
wanderers, to the interesting history published in Ger-
many by the learned Grellmann,‘ in which they will
find an exact account of this people, the individuals of
whose species have been introduced with so little truth
by the first romance writer of our time.
* Hilloire den Bohemian; or, Picture of the Manners,
Usages, and Customs, of this wandering Tribe, with historical
researches on their Origin, Language, and first appearance in
Europe. By H. M.G. Grellmann. Translated from the Ger-
man. Second Edition in 8vo. Paris: Chaumont, Bookseller,
Palais Royal.


MEMOIRS or VIDOGQ. 195
CHAPTER LXX.
LES ROULE_TIERS.
The obedient driver—The bold robber—The diadem of the Queen of
' Naples—The diamonds and the ball in the Rue Frépillon -The pre-
servatives.
THE Rouletiers are those who plunder portmanteaus,
imperials, and other property from carriages, on which
they are placed. The majority of rouletiers are of the
working class, and usually dressed as porters, messen-
gers, or waggoners. At one time they existed in con-
siderable numbers, and had their stations in various
parts of the city, where the arrival of coaches, carriages,
&c. were most frequent, and afforded the best facility
for the prosecution of their designs. The Rue d’Enfer,
the Fauxbourgs Saint-Honore, Saint-Martin, Saint-
Denis, the Boulevards, the Place Louis XV., the Rues
des Bourdonnais and des Lavandieres, the Rues Tire-
Chappe and Montorgueil, were incessantly infested by
Rouletiers.
When robbers of this class had cast their eyes on an
errand cart or other vehicle containing luggage, they
followed them, and at the first halt accomplished their
design, and but few carriages are used which have not
paid something like a contribution to them. The first
who excelled in this department, were Fanfan Maison,
the brothers Servier, Jean, Goupi, Herriez, Cadet, Nis-
sel, Dubois l’Insolent, Roblot, Lafrance, Ligny, Dore,
See. all men as daring as expert. Postchaises, berlins,
taxed carts, diligences, no sort of vehicle came amiss
to them, and they plundered with incredible audacity.
One of the gang accosted the waggoner, and detained
him at the head of his horses, whilst the others opened
.the waggon and took out the bales, boxes, 8m.
I have been told, that the brothers Serviei; and two
5


196 usuoms or vmocq.
other rouletiers, being at nightfall on the Champs
Elysées, the elder,having entered into conversation with
acoachman, endeavoured to distract his attention whilst
his comrades were at work. Suddenly the driver, per-
ceiving by a. motion at the back part of the coach that
his vehicle was weighed down by some persons behind,
wanted to see what occasioned this movement; “ I
command you not to look back," said Servier to him,
and the charioteer obeyed.
I have been assured, that very frequently it has oc-
curred that Goupi has got on a coach in the market-
place, and taken down trunks as if belonging to him-
self.
Oue day I followed a famous rouletier named Gos-
net. On reaching the Rue Saint Denis, he jumped up
on a coach, put on a cloak and cotton cap which he
found lying close to his hand, and in this dress got
down again with a portmanteau under his arm. It
was not later than two o‘clock in the afternoon; but to
elude all suspicion, Gosnet, on alighting, went straight
to the conducteur (guard), and after having spoken
to him, turned down a street close at hand. I was in
waiting for him, he was apprehended and sentenced.
The rouletiers are not the best informed peo le in
the world, and thus sometimes in their expe itions
they carry off booty of considerable value, but the
worth of which they are completely ignorant of. One
of them, whom the robbery of a trunk belonging to the
Queen of Naples had made possessor of a diadem,
made a present of it to a common girl with whom he
lived, wishing to spare himself the expense of an orna-
mental comb which he had long promised her. For
want of a better, she condescended to wear the
royal ornament, and appeared decked with it at a
ball in the Rue Frépillon in the Cour St. Martin. It
was no doubt the 'first time that diamonds had ever
been seen there.
Would you set all the rouletiers at defiance? Do not
fasten on your travelling trunks, nor your imperials,


MEMOIRS or vrnocq. 199
proprietor of the learned ass, which must be remembered
by all Paris, was the father ofa gang of pickpockets;
when the ass began his tricks, the tireurs did not put
their hands in their own pockets.
Ballad-singers, mountebanks, out-door conjurers,
have nearly all alliances with these cut-purses, and
participate in the profits of the spoil. In Paris there is
not the smallest congregation of persons, or the most
trifling disturbance, but the pickpockets throng there.
These gentlemen are everywhere.
One day, whilst,with his hands in his pocket, an En-
glishman was observing the soldiers exercising on the
parade, a little pickpocket named Duluc cut his watch
riband. A minute afterwards the gentleman discovered
that he had lost something, looked on the ground, then
examined the watch riband, and although it was easy
to perceive that he had been deprived of his seals, he
searched his pockets and felt all about him from head to
foot; at length, astonished at not finding what he had
lost, he exclaimed, “ Goddem, the devil has carried ofl‘
my seals ;“ and whilst, from a carelessness of manner, he
laughed as loud as his neighbours; the thief, with some
of his comrades and accomplices, stood a few paces
from him, imitating and mocking him.
Nothing is more easy to detect than a pickpocket ; he
never stands for a moment in any one place, he
must be perpetually on the move, always coming and
going. This mobility is necessary for him, because it
increases his opportunities of looking persons in the
face, and also to assure himself whether or no there is
any booty. When a pickpocket approaches a crowd,
he swings his hands about as if by chance, but con-
trives to strike them against the pocket or fob, that he
may ascertain if they contain anything. If he thinks
that it is worth the trouble of his emptying it, the two
accomplices, whom the prig calls his normes or non-
neurs,-each take their post, that is to say as near as
possible to the person-who is to be draam. They press
and squeeze against him as if he were in a vice, whilst


200 usuoms or vmocq.
endeavouring to conceal the hand of the operator. A
watch or a purse may be the result of the attempt, and
if so, it is instantly passed into the hands of an accom-
plice, the coqueur, who makes off with the booty as
quickly as possible, carefully avoiding any appearance
of hurry or anxiety.
One remark is very essential to make, namely, that
at the end of any spectacle, after church, or at the ter-
mination of any meeting that has drawn together a
large assemblage of persons, pickpockets seem desirous
.of returning against the stream of the crowd which is
going out. Readers, you are warned; when you see
one or more individuals attempting such a manreuvre,
looking up in the air and pushing hard, be on your
guard. It is neither on the safety-chain, nor the button
of your fob that your dependence can or should be
placed ; they present no obstacles. Thieves are, on the
contrary, quite contented that precautions of this kind
should be adopted: they are the security of the citizen,
he has a chain, his fob is thereby protected, he fears
nothing, he does not think of attending to the safety of
his watch, that would be a superfluous care; what can
happen to it ? The chain is cut, the button twisted 06',
and the watch disappears. Pickpockets have not the
appearance even of touching it, but they have eyes at
their fingers’ ends.
However, there is a mode of setting at defiance all
their art and subtlety; turn, that is to say, twist your
watch fob; one or two turns are enough, and then you
may set at naught the arts of the most downy drawer,
however skilled in abstracts, and the talent of approe
priating to himself the purse, watch, or snuff-box of
another.
There was in Paris a thief of such incredible dexterity
that he robbed without an accomplice. He placed
himself in front of a person, put his hand behind him,
and took either a watch or some other valuable. This
species of thievery is called the vol :1 la chicane. ‘
A fellow named Molin, alias Mouh'n ;le Chapgh'gr,


, mnuorns or vrnocq. 201
being under the portico de's Franpais * was desirous of
stealing a gentleman’s purse: the sufferer, who was
near the wall, thought he felt some one picking his
pocket ; Molin, full of presence of mind, effected his ob-
ject in an instant, the .purse was torn from the pocket,
he opened it, and taking out a coin, asked for a ticket
for the play. At the same moment the person robbed
said to him,—
“ But, Sir, you have taken my urse, give it to me."
F “ The devil I have,” replied olin with an air of
affected surprise, “ are you quite sure 1" Then looking
attentively at it, “ By heavens ! I thought it was nyine.
Oh! sir, I ask your pardon.”
At the same time he returned the purse, and all the
bystanders were persuaded that he had done it involun-
tarily. This is beingfly, or I know nothing about it.
At the time of the great fog, Molin and a pal named
Dorlé were stationed at the environs of the Place des
Italiens. An old gentleman passed, and Dorlé
stole his watch which he passed to Molin. The dark-
ness was so great that he could not discern if it were a
repeateror not, and to ascertain this, Molin pressed
down the spring : the hammer instantly struck on the
bell, and by the sound the old man knew his watch,
and instantly cried out,—
“ My watch! my watch! pray restore me my watch,
it belonged to my grandfather, and is a family piece.”
Whilst uttering these lamentations, he endeavoured
to go in the direction whence the sound had proceeded,
to get his watch again as he ex ected and hoped to do.
He came close up to Molin, w 0, under cover of the
dense fog, put his hand with the watch in it close to
the old gentleman‘s ear, and pushing the spring again,
said, whilst the watch was striking—
“ Listen then to its sounds for the last time;" and
with this cruel advice the two thieves then went away,
leaving the worthy undone elderly to bewail his loss. J
‘l‘ A theatre at Paris—TB.


202 mnmoms or vrooco.
The ancient ooleurs a la tire cite still, as amongst the
celebrated personages of their profession, two Italians,
the brothers V erdure, the eldest of whom, convicted of
forming one of a band of chauffeurs, was sentenced to
death. On the day of execution, the younger, who was
at liberty, wished to see his brother as he left the prison,
and with several of his comrades took his station on
the road. When thieves go out in the evening into a
crowd they generally have a preconcerted word of
alarm or summons, by which to call or distinguish their
accomplices. Young Verdure, on seeing the fatal car,
uttered his, which was large, to which the criminal,
looking about him, replied large. This singular salute
given and returned, it may be imagined that young
Verdure retired. On his road he had already stolen
two watches; he saw his brother's head fall from the
block, and either before or afterwards he was deter-
mined to carry matters to their utmost.
The crowd having dispersed, he returned to the
cabaret with his comrades. “ Well, well,“ said he,
laying down on the table four watches and a purse, “ I
think I have not played my cards amiss. I never
thought to have made such a haul at my frater‘s death;
I am only sorry he‘s not here to have his share of the
swag."
What will the advocates for the punishment of death
say to this? That it is efiicacious, salutary? This is
a powerful proof, certainly.


MEMOIRS or vmocq. 203
CHAPTER LXXII.
LES FLOUEURS *.
\
The money-finders—A ood bottle of winch—The Saint-Jenn—Lc verre
enjlzun—T e money-balance and la triumphs.
THE floueu'rr, who should rather be termed the jougun,
go generally two or three together. One of them goes
first, holding in his hand a twenty or forty-sous piece;
and when he sees a man whose appearance bespeaks
him a stranger—the cut of whose clothes, boots, and hat,
the mode of whose hair, a complexion more or less
hale, a gaping and inquisitive look, are the indices by
which a “yoke!” is easily distinguished ; when, I say,
afloueur, who is in advance, perceives these marks of
rusticity, he lets the piece of money fall cleverly from
his hand, and then stooping, picks it up in a way that
the passenger must observe. _
“ Sir," says the rascal, on rising up, “ has this piece
of money fallen accidentally from your pocket 2"
“ No, Sir," is the reply of the stranger.
“ Really, Sir, if it were worth more,” the swindler
says, “ I would offer you the half; but for such a trifle
it is not worth while; if you will allow me, I will offer
you a bottle of wine.“
If the stranger accepts the proposal, the thief puts
his hand on his cravat, or else takes off his hat as if
he were saluting some person. At this signal, which is
called the Saint Jean, the accomplices precede him,
and running forward, instal themselves in a cabaret,
where they begin playing at cards.
An instant afterwards, the individual who is sup-
posed to have found the piece arrives, with the stranger
* Anglice, fing-droppersan.


206 unmoms or vrnocQ.~
CHAPTER LXXIII.
LES EMPORTEURS.
The gentlemen who lose themselves—The curiosities of Paris—The
two cradles—The ot’tieious Cicerone—'1‘ he member of the university
1 and the rattle-snake.
THERE are in Paris individuals whom we see from
morning till evening in the public way; they have no
determined object, but yet are continually promenading
up and down the principal streets. They may also be
frequently met in public places and at meetings of all
sorts; such as the Tuileries, the Palais Royal, the
Jardiu des Plantes, that of the Luxembourg, the
Louvre, the Carousel, or the Place Vendome, at the
time of parade, the galleries of the Musée, and, in fact,
everywhere that there are a great number of strangers
and country people.
The sharpers I allude to are always clothed, if not
elegantly, yet very neatly. They might be taken for
merchants, or at least for men of business. These
worthies hunt in leashes; one of them goes on first,
and on perceiving a stranger, (and with a little tact a
stranger may be known at one glimpse,) he accosts
him, inquiring very politely for some street which he
knows to be in the immediate vicinity of the place in
which he is.
The stranger of course replies, that he is not a resi-
dent in Paris; then the swindler, taking the ball at
the bound, says-—
“ Nor am I; it is, in fact, so very long since I was
in the capital, that I am completely lost in the midst
of the manifold changes that have been made here.”
On reaching the corner of the street, the “ lost gen-
tleman " reads the inscription, and cries out, “ Oh, this
is the street; I remember now."


MEMOIRS or vmocq. 207
Whilst walking on beside the stranger, he enters into
conversation ; and leading the subject to what is most
curious at the moment in the way of sights, talks some-
times of the wardrobe, sometimes of the king’s apart-
ments ; at another period the theme is pictures, or some
interesting exhibition; at one time it was the corona-
tion costume of Napoleon, at another the cradle of the
King of Rome; subsequently that of the Due de Bor-
deaux; again, the stage, the giraffe, the Algerine am-
bassador, or perchance the Chinese. In fact, whatever
the bait may be, the sharper is going to procure a
ticket for two persons, and not having any friend with
him, he makes an offer to the stranger to accompany
him.
It is either an officer of the guards, or a person of
the Chitteau, or some personage of consideration or
rank, who has promised this ticket; he is to meet him
in a coffee-house close at hand, as appointed; and he
requests the stranger to go with him. Should consent
be given, a preconcerted signal is forthwith made to
the two accomplices, who formed the rear-guard, to go
forward. The coHee-house is not very distant; the
stranger and his companion speedily arrive there; the
latter goes to the bar, as if to inquire of the person
whom he expected had arrived, and when he has done
this, he invites the stranger to go up stairs into the
billiard-room; he soon follows, and says that his friend
will very shortly arrive.
“ In the mean time,” he adds, “ let me offer you a
small glass of something.”
The small glass is accepted, and they continue
looking at the billiard players.
One of the players makes a fine stroke, which the
Cicerone points out to the stranger, the game goes on,
and chance strokes are made every moment. The
player who ought to win loses the game; he does not
care a rush, he says; he would as soon lose as win ; his
uncle‘s estates will pay for all ;. besides, although he
haslost some, there are others left behind quite as good,
T 2


210 ‘menroms or vrnocq.
CHAPTER. LXXIV.
LE S EMPRUNTEURS.
Travelling post—Portmantem given in charge—The exordium—The
aristocrats—The ingots—Splendid operation—What embarrasses,
harasses—The depOSit—The little soldier, and the madman of Cette
-Brillitmts and sapphires—M. Fromager—The twin sisters.
Bonnowmo, in a way that partakes of swindling and
robbery, is one of the most ingenious modes of appro-
priating to one‘s self the goods of another. Never did
the emprunteurs make so much booty, as during the
troubles of the Revolution, it was the season of their
propitious industry, which they exercised in the follow-
mg manner.
Two men of mature age travelled post, taking with
them a third individual, who passed for their servant.
These gentlemen had all the external appearance of
opulence, elegant and gentlemanly look, polite man-
ners, appropriate language, and the demeanour of
noblemen. It was impossible not to believe them to
be personages of consequence, and, moreover, persons
of wealth, to judge by the way in which they lived,
They only alighted at the first rate inns, or best lodging-
houses; what most imported them was, that the land-
lord should be one of the reputed rich men of the coun-
try, and thus they always knew before hand the situa-
tion of his finances, and if he had not much ready
money, they could at least build their hopes and form
their plans on his credit. Under these considerations,
the post-masters suited them to a turn.
Arrived at the place they had pitched upon, the two
travellers ordered the best room; and whilst the house
resounded with the orders given by these high and
mighty dons, the pretended servant was employed in
unloading the carriage and carrying his master‘s lug-


arr-:nroms or vrnocQ. 211
gage into the house. This operation was seldom
efl'ected but in presence of all the servants of the hotel :
master, mistress, servants, stable-boy, cook, and even
scullions, all are glad on such an occasion to have
a look; all have a tolerable sprinkling of curiosity,
and these spectators aiding in the unpacking and un-
loading do not allow a single opportunity to escape
them, by which they can obtain favourable or unfavour-
able conjectures of the new comers.
They assist to carry in the trunks that they may
ascertain their weight ; they would not be sorry to lend
a hand at the opening, and every portmanteau which
they are forbidden not to touch, is for them a subject
of mortal curiosity and inquietude; they measure and
weigh it with their eyes, and if it should seem heavy,
or is it removed with any appearance of mystery, then
is there a wide field open to conjecture. The new
comers are wealthy as Crmsus, and have treasures in
their train. Confidence of a boundless nature, com-
plaisance, little attention, all is bestowed on them :
for them, they would one and all cut themselves into
quarters. Cellar, lritchen, stable, and the whole house
is revolutionized.
The travellers, whose habits I am about to describe,
were not ignorant of how much importance and con-
sideration might be a portmanteau, well secured and
fastened. Their servant, who was the practical man in
the business, and aided materially in forwarding their
plans, pulls out with much difficulty from the boot or
imperial, a sort of chest, whose size contrasted greatly
with his efl'orts to lift it out.
“ By Gemini ! it does not contain feathers," say the
gazers.
“ I believe you," replies the servant; then turning to
the host, hostess, or some one of the family, he stretches
out his neck, adding, in a confidential tone, but so as to
be clearly understood by every body, “ It is the cash!"
' “ Let me help you, let me help you," repeat five or
six officious persons.


memoras or vinocq. 213
i This was the preamble, or exordium. After having
stated it with all the solemnity of misfortune, the tra-
veller made a pause, in the expectation that one of those
questions would he asked which evince the degree of
interest which the interrogator takes in your situation.
If this was satisfactory, he resumed :—
“.You are not ignorant that cash and sterling money
have disappeared from circulation, and that whosoever
has any, conceals'lit with the greatest care, for fear of be-
ing apprehended and treated like an aristocrat. We pos-
sess aquantity of s pecie, as much as fifty thousand francs.
Such a sum is embarrassing, and, the more easily to
conceal it from inquiry, we have melted itourselves,'and
made it into ingots. At this epoch we did not foresee
that we should be compelled to exile ourselves instantly,
so that at the moment of a precipitous departure we
find ourselves almost without money. Up to this pe-
riod a few louis from a reserve we made, has been suf-
ficient for us, but we have not reached the termination
of our journey by a great deal, and who knows how
longa time may elapse during our absence! In this
situation lriends are indispensable to us, and ready
money, for we cannot pay postboys with ingots. We
could address ourselves to a goldsmith, but who will
undertake to say that he will not denounce us? This
fear has determined us on applying to you; you can
serve us so far as to lend us on one or two ingots a sum
of five or six thousand francs."
It must here be noticed, that the sum asked for was
always one that squared with the pecuniary means of
the landlord.
“ It is not necessary to say that in paying you back
your capital, we will also add the interest. That is a
matter of course. As to the period of this reimburse-
ment, you shall fix it at your own convenience, and the
time elapsed, if you want to make use of the ingots, do
so without scruple or hesitation. We will give you a
written authority, which shall entitle and empower you
to act in ;this respect with full and perfect liberty." I


220 mnuoms or vmocq.
to the reader to learn how much profit these sharpers,
who feed on the credulity of the human race, can
realize by a feigned originality of conduct.
Figure to yourself, reader, a gentleman and his
French or Italian servant, whom he calls John, in that
tone at once solemn, brief, harsh, and with that im-
periousness of a master who allies to despotic manners
a well evinced disgust of life. The gentleman alights
from his post-chariot. The rim of his black cap care-
fully folded down below his ears, ,he appears suffering
and morose, and scarcely condescends to make a sign.
He crosses the yard without looking at anything; and
in his total carelessness does not even perceive that
the long furred cloak in which he is enveloped brushes
along the pavement, and that the female servants
ranged along the passage are nice looking girls. All
is indifferent, uncomfortable, insupportable ;—he does
not turn back to look, but once, and that is to ascertain
whether John follows with the bottle of soda-water,
and the precious necessary of health, namely the
New London Poi-tative Apothecary *, without which
no man of consequence, unless he would be a self-
slaughterer, can go from home even for a distance of
four miles. His conduct is already a little singular;
but added to his costume, his manners, and a variety of
other particulars, he quickly becomes ridiculous; and
three hours have not elapsed from the arrival of the
v * We copy literally from the literal M. Vidocq, who seems
rather at fault, not only in his caricature but his orthography.
His knowledge of the English character is about as correct as
his acquaintance with the language. John, with a “ new por-
tatioe apotbecary” under his arm, must indeed be a sight in
Paris ; we should stare somewhat even in London. M, V. has
forgotten to say whether the“ portative apothecary " was
labelled round the neck with “ Before taken to be well
shaken," or any other appropriate direction. The “homme
comme il faut" described in the text, was doubtless what
Theodore Hook calls a “ Buccaneer,” in every sense of the
Word.--TR.


MEMOIRS or vrnooq. 221
gentleman until the whole household consider him as
an amusing character.
“ Who is your master?” says the landlord to John;
“ he is a regular Ostrogoth; he is more sad than
passion-week, says nothing, and roars like a bull. I
have seen many of your Englishmen, but never had
one who exacted so much. Why, we are always
obliged to be running after him. He wants, and he
don't want; he orders, and counter-orders. Is he sick
or mad ?”
“ Do not talk to me of it," says John, who is an
egregious chatterer; “ my master, such as you see him,
is the best man in the world, but you must know how
to take him. I have travelled about with him for these
four years; before he never could kee a servant with
him, but I have contrived to stay, an ’faith I am not
sorry for it, now that I know his ways and how to please
him.“
“ Ah, on have travelled with him these four years,
eh ?—-ang where the deuce are you now going 2”
“ Where are we going '!—ask him where he is going;
why he does not know himself 1 We go to-day here;
to-morrow there. He says he means to settle himself,
and we are moving about every day."
“ By this account, then, it must cost him a great
deal of money '.'"
“ Oh, yes! I would wish no better fortune than
the pour boirer that I have given to the postilions."
“ He is rich, then 1'”
“ Rich l—why he does not know his wealth! I do
not remember how many thousand pounds sterling he
has to spend every day."
“ The devil l—you should get him to stay here; the
country is delightful; besides, he will meet with ad-
mirable company. Then we want for nothing: woods
for hunting; if he likes fishing, we have a river full of
fish; meadows, fields, vineyards, orchards; the theatre
all the year round; we have assembly-rooms, excellent
actors, and a most delightful ball very often. M. the
U 3


222 MEMOIRS or “none.
Maréchal ‘ has a chateau in the environs; Ma-
dame the Comtesse do has her’s quite near! the
Due de ——-- generally passes the summer months
here; then the Marquis de , General , Che—
valier , not mentioning M. the Mayor, and Ma-
dame his lady, where there is a conversazione twice
a-week at least. Oh, there are innumerable amuse-
ments! The literary circle, where they discuss and
read all the newspapers; the society of agriculture
and emulation, which has the honour of including
amongst its members the most talented men in the
country; most magnificent walks ; a vaccine establish-
ment; one of the most beautiful churches in the king-
dom; concerts; most splendid winter balls; a Tivoli
and serenade in summer ; a musical mass all the year
round, and on grand fetes, processions in which no one
can be weary with admiring the beauty of our young
girls. There's amusement enough, I hope. We have,
moreover, most extensive barracks, large enough to
contain at least two thousand cavalry; forage of the
best quality; brilliant coffee-houses; adorable lemon-
ade malfers; and billiards as at Paris. For an ama-
teur, or any one that knows how to handle a cue, I
assure you it is not to be despised : we have first-rate
crack-players. I forgot to tell you that the officers of
the garrison are the most amiable cavaliers that can be
met with. During the four years you have travelled,
have you met with many towns like this? Let me
add, that it is 'the chief city of the department, and
that we have everything within ourselves: a police-
oflice, tribunal of the premi‘ere instance, justice of
peace, court of assize, executions; a bishopric, a col-
lege, mutual instruction, school of industry, elections,
an hospital equalled but by few, capuchins, penitents,
jesuits, a fair that lasts fifteen days, and a thousand
other amusements of the same kind, which, to detail
at length, would be fatiguing to me and tiresome to
on.
“_The picture you present is very attractive, and if


MEMOIRS or vmooq. 223
my master were like other men, I have no doubt but
that it would suit him to make some stay here. But
you must know that master is perpetually complaining
of his health.”
“Is that all? our doctors practise on the plan of
Broussais, and we have most delicious leeches.”
“Delicious leeches! Ah, but the air! it’s always
the air that my master is talking about."
“The air is excellent: we never have any persons
sick.”
“ I thought you had an hospital 1"
“Yes, for the poor, but else we should never die
unless we were killed."
“ Your doctors follow the plan of Broussais—the
leeches are delicious—the air is excellent. Now, let
us talk of the water. Oh! the water! the water! that
is my master’s deity."
“ Well, then, I defy the whole world to produce
finer, clearer, purer,"
“ And the wine l”
“ Exquisite l"
“ You have fresh eggs t”
“ We have pullets and fowls of our own that lay
whenever they are hidden."
“ Milk, and butter '2”
“’To be sure, in abundance, and of the very finest
sort.
“ Roast-beef, (ms-61f) and beef-steak, (btfhstek)
are they also among the produce of the country?"
“ Our oxen are enormous!" ‘
“Really, your country is a little earthly paradise.
You inspire me with a desire of remaining here. Ah!
if monsieur could partake of my enthusiasm! But we
must not think of such a_ thing. Every thing wearies,
every thing fags, every thing annoys him, We have
traversed together the four corners of the globe; Eu-
rope, Asia, Africa, America. No picturesque situation,
no mountain, torrent, lake, abyss, volcano, cascade
which we have _not visited. Not a horror of nature


224 arr-moms or vrnocq;
which has not had the privilege of attracting us; he
arrived, looked, yawned, and said—‘ Let us go on to
another, John,‘ and we went."
After this conversation, John goes to inquire if his
master wants him. Instantly rumour, with her hundred
tongues, spreads through the hotel that the traveller is a
milord—that he possesses incalculable riches, but is a
most eccentric personage. The host, however, would
not be sorry to retain him as his guest: he gives every
one their lesson, and the hostess has constantly on her
lips a smile, and on her tongue, veneration.
An universal increase of respect and attention is
prescribed, and the domestics have orders to have ears
and legs only for milord. This order given, John was
not slow in descending.
“ I think,” said he, “ that to-mori'ow we shall
take a short walk round the vicinity. My master
has desired me to awake him early : he is not so
melancholy as usual: if these blue devils would but
leave him! but no; it is a spectre that haunts him, and
in five minutes, perha s, be will change his mind :
there is no reliance on Him." '
~, In the evening milord has for his supper two fresh
eggs and a glass of water. Next morning he breakfasts
on a glass of water and two fresh eggs. He is sober,
and the least eater in the world; but then he is on a
regimen. As for John, it is another matter. He eats
cuts of mutton, and dispatches bottles of wine in a
twinkling.
The repast terminated, they go out for the excursion
projected the previous evening, and do not return till
after sunset. Milord, wonderful to relate, salutes the
hostess; he appears less atrabilarious than in the morning;
he utters two other words of compliment with surprising
afl‘ability: he is a bear commencing his lesson in hu-
manity. Some of the wrinkles are efl'aced from his
brow, the black cap is not pulled so completely over
his eyes. Happy effect! incontestable evidence of the
lalubrious influence of the place on the hypocondriasis


MEMOIRS or VIDOCQ. 227
The innkeeper did not know what reply to make, but
John, who saw his embarrassment, stood forward as in-
terpreter to his master. ‘
“ My master inquires how much it will cost him per
annum at your house for the'board and lodging, first
of his lordship, then for five servants, four horses, and
bocop rejoissante por ein anclaise: matame i‘t vo charmante
ein verity, petite l'enfantimatame, interessante family; bocop
espiegle, ché lé aimais bocop ; ah—mo-a aussi petite l'es-
piegle dans mon jonesse, vo riez mossio l'auperche. Ah! vo
michantes ne pas rire.”
“ V0 ave: encore des femmes de chambre dontlé acacery,
les oill black et lé pomme roge de figoure et les gros ma-
melles me plaissent veridiqnement. Votre departement il mé a
enchanté; cholis collines, cholis cfiteaux, cholis boccages,
cholis rifages, cholis qui coule, cholis sorces, le eau était onne,
bonne potache. V0 ave: en v0 city oun society dé hytrophiles ?”
“ Ah! dommaiche,dommaiche! v0 francaisse pas connaitre
richesse de son contry—dans la Ancleterre, les hytrophiles i!
étaitlé piveurs de l’eau—— ; mo-a président souperior de
sociéty des hytrophiles—, ché vol faire vo hytrophile."
“ Pertonnez, partonnez vo bun hytrophile, John, rappelez 3,
1110-2. por faire hytrophile mossio: savez v0, mossio l'auperche,
que v0 avez oun soleil tot-a-faita mon fantasie, oune molt
plaisant naturalité de situachen 501' 1a terre, oun zephir tres
appétissante per la dijérement, avec dans le but none perpe-
toualle agréabiliti de perspective dé séchour dé pienhoreux.
Por tote ces ravissemente qui guérirai a mo-a mon melancoli,
ché donne a vo vingt cinque mille francs, repondez, vo prénez
vingt cinque mille francs ?”
“ Ah, vo acceptez."
“ Vo volez faire contente mo-a? ah, John, donnez mon tré-
sory dé voyage."
“ Vo avez oune armoire.”
“ Ah,vo avez oune armoire! mo-a ché 1e casquette de la
coton, ché metté dans lé interne de loui mille et encore cinque
cent franque, vo por egality dans le meme interne mettez aussi
franque cinque cent at encore mille, en motoual security, dans
lé armoire a v0 ché mette en pre'ison casquette a mo-a, 1e
pre'ison il demeure avec v0, et le clé il marche avec mo-s: MM


mnnoms or vmocq. 229
fulfor' an Englishman; your wife is a charming woman,
and so is the little infant, and your interesting family,
clean, lively children; I like them much. Ah, I was
lively in my younger days; you laugh, landlord—ah,
you may ! Don’t laugh."
“ Milord, I will not take so great a liberty."
_ “ You have two maid servants, whose little winning
ways, black eyes, red cheeks,&c., please me very much.
Your department has perfectly enchanted me; fine hills,
fine seats, fine woods, fine banks, fine streams, fine
fountains, the water is a real treat. Have you in your
town a society of water-lovers (hydrophilists) 2"
“ I do not think, milord, that there are any hierogly-
phics in the country."
“ Ah, what a pity, what a pity! You Frenchmen
do not know the worth of your own country. In Eng-
land the hydrophilists, who are water-drinkers I am
president of the society of hydrophilists. I will make
you a hydrophilist."
“ Milord,;l do not deserve so much honour from
your lordship’s hands."
“ Pardon me, pardon me, my excellent hydrophilist;
John, remind me that I make a hydrophilist. Do you
know, innkeeper, that you have a sun precisely to my
mind; one of the most pleasant situations on earth, an
air extremely beneficial for digestion, and from the hills
there is a perpetually agreeable prospect, which will
make my residence here comfortable. For all these
charms, which will cure my melancholy, I give you
twenty-five thousand francs. Tell me, will you take
twenty-five thousand francs T‘
“ Your generosity, milord, exceeds my pretensions."
“ Oh, you accept my ofl'er,_then l“
“I will do all in my power to make your lordship
contented.“
“ You will make me contented, ah! John, give me
my travelling money-bag."
John takes from the secretary an enormous bag, and
gives it to his master, who takes from ita handful of

x


280 marroms or vrnocQ.
gold pieces, which he piles in heaps of ahundred francs
on the table, and when fifteen piles are made, milord
gives the bag to John, and asks him for a cotton cap.
This is the finale which denotes a fine stroke of origi-
nality. Certainly the landlord asks no better than to
have at his house a boarder who pays as generously as
milord; however, his lordship requires not only that
the bargain, by virtue of which he and his people are
to be fed and boarded for a year, should be put down
in writing, but also wishes that a penalty should be
added, as guarantee of the execution.
“ You have a strong box?" he inquires of the host?"
“ Yes, milord."
“ Ah, you have a strong box! I have a cotton ca in
which I have put, in louis, a thousand and five hun red
francs, for your part put also within it five hundred
francs and a thousand in louis, as a mutual security;
put the cotton cap containing the two amounts into
your strong box, and give me the key; to-day I shall
go away for a week, you will keep on the lodging at
my expense, and if, when the end of the next month
comes, and the second day of the following month, I
am not returned, break open the prison and set at li-
berty the mutual indemnity for your own private ad~
vantage. If we return, you will of course restore me
the cap with the indemnity, and John will have some
little consideration out of it.“ ‘
The proposal was not very clear, but John undertook
to be the interpreter.
“ Milord," he says, making signals to the innkeeper
to give full and entire consent, “ milord will deposit
fifteen hundred francs in this cap; you must deposit
an equal sum, and the three thousand francs will be
shut up in a strong box, of which milord will keep the
key. Milord is going away for a week on some indis-‘
pensable business, but you will not dispose of his
apartment before the third of the next month; if at this
time we are not here again, you can have the box
opened, and the three thousand francs will be yours. If,“


.uznoms or vinoco. , 281
on the contrary, we do return, and you do not wish to
be held to your bargain, you will return the cap and
contents, and the affair is settled. I presume that you
‘will not object to place your share in the cap; but mi-
lord is in the habit of taking such precautions.”
“ Since it is milord‘s way,I am ready to comply.”
“ Ah, you will do what I wish,"
. “Yes, milord, I only wish to have permission to go
and get the money."
“ Go, go, landlord, and oblige me in what I ask."
The aubergiste descends, and John, going after him,
catechises him well : he advises him to strike while the
iron is hot, and so well plays be his cards, that in-
stead of fifteen hundred francs the innkeeper would
give double. Either from his own hoards or from his
neighbours he procures the sum in a very short time,
and then going quickly up stairs, carrying the pieces
of gold according to John’s advice, he sees milord
with his cloak on, walking up and down.
“ Well, have you got the requisite sum ?"
“ Yes, milord, I have come to put it in the cap."
“ You will ut it in the cap; oh,very good, very good."
He takes t e cotton cap, and holding it open with
both his hands, says, “ Throw in first my gold.”
The landlord throws in successively the fifteen piles
that are on the table, and that done, he sets about
proving that he does not fail in an obolus of his quota.
“ Ah, landlord, you give me much pain, you do me
an injury by your manifestation of the confidence
which I have placed in your integrity; throw in your
amount without counting them one by one."
The landlord, faithful to the private instructions
given to him by John, depOsits his gold in the cap,
and as soon as the WM sums are placed together,
milord ties them up with a riband, then walking
gravely towards the strong box, he says,—
“ Landlord, bring the double de osit."
The landlord obeys, and milor mounts a chair to
x 2


232 MEMOIRS or vmocq.
reach the top shelf, “ Give me the de osit,” and with
his eyes elevated to the top place in t e cupboard, the
host gives the cap to milord ; but whilst, with a shrug
of the shoulders, John gives the good man a smile of
approbation, by an expert manoeuvre of his right
hand the master puts the bag into his left hand, and
instantly seizes from under his cloak a second cap,
exactly like that which he has caused to disappear.
The exchange made, the ascensional movement (the in-
terruption of which has not been perceived) continues,
and, when effected, the landlord is quite sure that his
fifteen hundred francs are with those of milord. Mi-
lord is quite sure of the same thing.
“ Now the embargo is laid on the money."
He gives a double turn with the key, descends from
the chair, asks for his purse, pays without a murmur
at the bill, bids every body farewell, and gets into his
carriage with his faithful John.
“ Drive away a good pace, postilion; never mind
the horse, but do not break my neck : I will pay you."
“ Take milord over the best sides of the road,"
shrieks out the innkeeper, who trembles lest any acci-
dent should happen to milord.
“ Good heavens," said his wife, “ I hope milord
will not perceive the bad state of the roads! fortunately
they are dry."
“ Yes, but the dust."
“ Why did you not put in the carriage a bottle of
your syrup of lemon T’ .
“ Never thought of it."
“What a woman you are, you never do anything
like another woman. Postilion, postilion! Mr. John,
milord ; bah! they are off like shot. Heaven,” says in
petto the complaisant landlord, “ guide the coursers
that carry Caesar and my fortune ! l 1“
At length, at the end of three months the aubergiste
for fear of ofiending milord, waits for him six weeks
longer ; this lapse of time passed away he resolves to


unions or vrnocq. 283
take 05 the embargo; the door of the strong box is
forced, there is the cap, he takes it down, unties the
string, and finds—whet P—forged coin.
Sablin, who played the Englishman to perfection ',
was a master of this kind of robbery. One day he
carried off in this way five thousand francs from an
innkeeper: this latter was not a Greek, although he
lived at Troyes: his Troyes was in Champagne.
‘ ' Certainly, if the above be a specimen of his talents! Ta.
33


unmoms or vrnocq. 235
after hour, the bulletin of his actions, and when he
thinks that it is time to, be up and doing, he warns
.them to be in readiness to second his plans.
The moment fixed for the perpetration of the scheme
having arrived, under some pretext or other the gri'ce
induces the pigeon to go out with him: they go into
the streets together, but _scarcely have they advanced
a few paces, when a man, whose accent denotes him to
be a stranger, accosts them, and makes them compre-
hend that he wants to find his way to the Palais
Royal.
“ What do you want there T’ inquires the ng-ce.
The man shows several pieces of money, generally
large coin, or Italian pieces of forty-francs, and, mani-
festing a desire to getthem changed, he gives an ac-
count, of which this is the sum and substance :—
He was in the service of a. very rich man, who died
arid left him a vast number of these pieces, the value
of which he is ignorant of; all he knows is, that, when
he changes it, they give him five white pieces. Imme-
diately, to show the sort of white pieces, he pulls out
a hundred sous piece. At the same moment, the
grece, taking from his pocket six pieces of five francs
each, proposes to the domestic that he shall give him
the gold coin for them; to which he assents, apparently
very well satisfied, and in his language gives him to
understand, that he should not be sorry to have more
white money.
A money-changer's shop cannot be established in
the open air, they therefore enter a cabaret, and there
the stranger, with pieces of gold, opens a case con-
taining a hundred, which he offers for thirty francs
each. .
The grece, aside to the pigeon, does not fail to remark
how advantageous it would be to them to make such
a bargain, adding,--“ But, before we conclude the
bargain, I think it only cautious to show the pieces
to a goldsmith, in order to ascertain if they be good."
The pigeon thinks with his companion. He 8°"


measures or vrnocQ. 239‘v
to pick it up, his new acquaintance cries “ halves."
They stop to see in what consists the treasure—it
is generally a precious jewel, a ring richly set, brilliant
shirt buttons, ear-rings, Ste. A writing always accom-
panies the gem; what does it contain? The yoke!
seldom knows how _to read, and of course his “ new
fledged comrade" knows no better than himself, and
yet the paper may contain some necessary and useful
information, but to whom to address it? they fear to
commit any indiscretion. In the mean time they con-
tinue walking, and suddenly, at a corner of a street,
they see a man reading the posting bills, and nothing-
could be better for their purpose,
- “ Parbleu," says the comrade, “ we could not have
met with a better person; here is a gentleman who will
relieve us from our embarrassment, show him the paper,
he will tell us the meaning of it; but let us be particu-
larly careful not to speak to him of what we have
found, for he might put in his claim to a share.“
The stranger is delighted, promises prudence, and
they go up to the reader, who, with much complaisance,
complys with the request, and reads:
“ Sir,-—I send your ring set with fresh brilliants, for
which your servant has paid me two thousand seven
hundred and twenty-five francs, for which this is a
receipt. “ BRISEBARD, Jeweller."
Two thousand seven hundred and twenty-five francs!
We may judge how the sound of such a sum, the halfof
which was to come to him, sounds musically in the
rustic’s ear. The obliging reader (who is the third
accomplice) does not fail to emphatize the figures;
they thank him for his complaisance and go on their
way.
The next step to be taken is on the subject of
the jewel. Shall they return it'! certainly not. If it
belonged to a poor devil, all very well; but whoever
can purchase diamonds is a rich man, and what to a
rich man are two thousand seven hundred and twenty-
five francs 'l—a trifle, which he cares nothing about


246 neurons or vrnocq.
eacarpe : no one more charitable: all the beggars are
their friends, because beggars can furnish useful indica-
tions; and being always on the road and on the tramp,
are the natural spies of the high road. The female
escarpes carry their hypocrisy. to such an extent, as to
assume all the outward marks of deep devotion. They
wear rosaries, scapularies, crucifixes, &c. They assist
regularly at the holy offices, and occasionally take the
Sacrament at the Holy Table.
The men generally wear a fustian or stufi‘ smock-
frock of a blue colour, intended to keep their clothes
from the spots of blood. A murder committed, they
make away with the frock, bury it, burn it, or some-
times wash it, according as they have more or less time
before them. A stick, with a kind of hand-whip, a hat
covered with gummed tafi'ety, under which is a red or
blue handkerchief enveloping the head, complete the
appearance of these hell-hounds, who are skilled in pre-
paring circumstances, which, in time of need, can be
adduced as proving an alibi. It is, in fact, for this
purpose that they have their passports visé in all the
towns through which they pass.
Happily for society, the escarpes are now very few in
number except some of the southern departments. How-
ever, I do not fear to affirm that they cannot be effectu-
ally extirpated, and assassination prevented, so long as
France shall be traversed in all directions by peripatetic
glass-sellers, umbrella-sellers, ballad-singers, ettle-
menders, mountebanks, jugglers, puppet-show men, or-
gan-players, leaders of bears and camels, showers of
magic lanterns, coblers, slight-of-hand men at fairs,
cripples false or real, &c. Apropos of these latter,it is
not superfluous to advise travellers to mistrust those men
who, fallen into a ditch, and pretending inability to
extricate themselves, call to them for help ; let them
remember the destiny of the cul-diqjatte , who thus
attracted passengers to their assassination. Those who
* One who goes with his sitting part in a bowl.


MEMOIRS orlvmocq. 247
were unfortunate enough to yield to a feeling of com-
passion he stabbed to the heart with a dagger the mo.
ment they stooped to aid him. It is dangerous to sleep
in road-side houses, particularly if lonely. The ,land-
lords may be honest, but those who frequent the house
are not always so, and the least harm that may happen
to a poor devil who passes the night there, is to be
plundered of all he has during the night.
The safety of the kingdom requires that we should
free our soil from the roving population that infests it :
they are a real scourge, and itis impossible to surveiller
them. At the present day, in the smallest village, there
are professions for all wants, and we cannot imagine
why measures have not been taken to compel to a
residence those peripatetics of every kind. These
ambulatory modes of life of individuals who hawk
about a trade, can only be suffered in times of bar-
barism orlarnongst a people whose civilization is scarcely
at its commencement.


'248 Iluorns or vrnocQ.
CHAPTER LXXVIII,
Salambler—The Mayor’s order—Tho fulw allies—J)on at fault—A
fortunate oceu rrence—A fugue -Ths Zero of life—The Alpha, Omega
v| and Bow—1316.
In the same manner as the Gargons de Cam agne, the
,Rifl'audeun generally assumed the garb 0 country.
dealers or travelling hawkers. ltiffaudeurs were a
species of thieves who sought to wring from their vic-
1th a confession of where they had concealed their
treasure, by applying fire to the soles of the feet.
‘When they had selected a fit object for their purpose,
they contrived to introduce themselves to his notice
.under pretence of disposing of their merchandise, and
during the course of their bargaining, managed to make
ihemselves acquainted with all_the localities of his
dwelling, as well as its modes of egress or ingress.
When it occurred that a house resented great difficul-
ties in the way of obtaining a mittance according to
their usual plans, an emissary, disguised in the rags of
poverty, was dispatched to seek a night's lodging “ for
the love of charity,“ beneath the roof against which
their machinations were directed. Such artful masters
of their trade seldom failed to work upon the benevo-
lent feelings to which they addressed themselves, and
once admitted to the rights of hospitality they never
failed to reward their abused host by rising when all
was still, and opening the door for the admission of
their comrades. When, as it frequently happened, a
watchful dog kept guard over the house, the false
tnendicant easily reduced him to silence by delighting
his olfactory nerves with the odour of a sponge dipped
in a peculiar kind of liquor, or by the enticing smell of
fresh-boiled horse's liver. These seductions were
invariably found sufficient to allay the fury of every
species of dog, from the yelp'mg our to the deep growl


'250 stations or vrnocq.
ing hue for their countenance, generally carried it
about them in a box made with two divisions, in one
-of which was contained the black dye and in the other
-the means of removing it.
Before starting upon any of their expeditions they
-'took care to furnish themselves with strong cords of
from four to five feet in length, for the purpose of bind-
ing their victims.
These wretches always departed singly, having first
appointed a general rendezvous, to which they all re-
paired by different roads and at different intervals of
time, travelling thither by the least frequented paths.
One piece of their tact consisted in never absenting
~themselves from home till the shades of night con-
cealed them, and without having first taken the re-
rcaution of drawing upon themselves the notice of their
neighbours just before they started. The same method
observed upon their return had the effect of destroying
-all suspicion or idea of their having been away from
the place even for an hour ; and enabled them, in any
case which required it, even to prove an alibi.
The riifaudeurs disdained to burthen themselves
'with property less valuable or less portable than gold
or diamonds; and as the latter articles were but seldom
to be obtained in the country, their usual search was
for what current coin they could extract from the un-
fortunate inhabitants.
The famous Salambier had for a long time projected
’the constraining a rich farmer of the neighbourhood of
Perpignan to give him an account of his money bags;
-but this scheme was much sconer devised than exe-
cuted, for the farmer kept a strict guard over his pre.
mises; indeed, in the general terror excited by the
continual depredations of the chauffeurs, it would have
been strange had he not partaken of the general panic.
In addition to every security that could be thought of
to exclude these formidable robbers from intruding
upon his property, the prudent master had placed two
"vigilant dogs to guard the approaches to it. Salambier


MEMOIRS or vmocq.v 251
had already reconnoitred the possibility of his enter-
prise; but the more he reflected upon it, the greater
and more insurmountable did the difficulties it pre-
sented appear. Nevertheless, as the result of his in~
quiries proved that the farmer kept a very considerable
sum in the house, his covetous propensities were only
more keenly excited to obtain it—but how l—tliat
indeed was a problem it required all the ingenuity of
his brain to solve. At length, however, he hit upon
the following expedient.
, Having obtained from some of the inhabitants to
whom he was known a certificate of good conduct, Etc.
he carried it to the Mayor de Poperingue in order to
obtain his signature. This important oint achieved,
he contrived to wash the paper over wit muriatic acid
in such a manner as to preserve only the attestation
of the mayor and the seal of the corporation. On the
sheet thus rendered blank, he then caused one of his
troop, named Louis Lemaire, to write the following
order:—
“ Monsieur ie Commandant,
“ I am given to understand that on the coming night
some ten or twelve chauffeurs will attempt to break
into the farm d‘Oermaille; you will therefore disguise
ten of your boldest men, and send them under the
command of a subaltern officer to the said farm,’in
order that they may, in case of necessity, be at hand
to assist the farmer, and secure those depredators who
may present themselves into his dwelling to levy con-
tributions therein. The magistrate of the corporation
of Lebel, to whom you will communicate this order
will serve as a guide to your detachment, and intro-
duce the party to the worthy farmer, by whom he is
well known.“
Salambier having thus fabricated the order, lost no
time in putting himself at the head of ten of his ac-
complices, and presenting himself at the house of the
functionary, who was thus unknowingly to aid him in
his criminal projects. This latter, recognizing the signa-


254 rumours or vmoco.
you may do as you like, but before you are five minutes
older you will be glad enough to tell us the secret of
your money bags,—(a large fire was blazing on the
hearth). “ Comrades,” exclaimed the hardened villain,
“ singe this headstrong fellow."
But whilst the most horrible of tortures was thus
being inflicted on the hapless farmer, piercing cries
were heard, evidently proceeding from some one who
was vainly striving to escape from the violence of an
enraged dog, whose yellings and angry barkings came
mingled with the agonized cry of the distressed person.
This unexpected uproar arrested the fiery persecution of
the brigands; they listened, and discovered in the per-
son on whom the furious beast was satiating his frenzied
rage, one of the helpers of the farm, who, having con-
trived to escape from bondage, had crept out by a back
door, in order to bring succour to the rest of the
wretched family. By some inconceivable fatality the
dogs had not recognised his voice.
Surprised at this unexpected occurrence, Salambier
commanded one of his men to go and silence a com-
motion so likely to attract unpleasant notice ; but
scarcely had the Chauffeur reached the court-yard, than
he in his turn became the object of the dog’s fury, and
with such determined hatred did the beast fix his teeth
into his flesh that, to save his life, be rushed back to the
room he had just before quitted, exclaiming, in the most
piteous accents, “ Save yourselves—save yourselves.”
This cry, uttered with the expression of the most
excessive terror, filled the whole band with the greatest
alarm, and scarcely knowing the nature of the danger
from which they fled, they precipitated themselves
through a window which looked out upon the country,
and were soon out of sight. Meanwhile, the farmer,
accompanied by the man (who had at length succeeded
in silencing the noise of the dog, who now recollected
him and was busily licking his hand), descended to the
cellar and delivered all his afiiighted household from
their state of tenor. He lost no time in setting off in


256 MIMOIIB or vrnocq.
fling a ballad to the seventh story of a house by the aid
of a half enny, so cleverly placed, that having served to
convey t 1e song to the destined window, the copper fell
again at its master's feet.
He certainly had strong claims to notoriety, for he
was accused of having taken part in the massacres of
September, 1793 ; and in November, 1828, he was
seen at the head of a possé of window smashers in the
Rue St. Denis.
Franchet the police agent, and the Jesuitical party to
which he was devoted, cherished great projects, but to
bring them to perfection they would have required the
aid of assassins, and they actually kept a number in
their pay. '
Since the year 1816, the Chauffeurs appear to have
been condemned to a life of inaction. Their last ex-
ploits had for their theatre the south of France, princi-
pally the environs of Nismes, Marseilles, and Mont-
elier, during the dictatorship of Monsieur Trestaillon.
hen, both Protestants and Buonapartists who pos-
sessed sufficient to tempt their cupidity; became the
objects of the Chauffeurs’ attacks, and that worthy repre-
sentative of the Verdeta, the chamber of “ incompa-
rubles,” relished the joke, and thought it “fine nut; to
crack."





APPENDIX.
WE add, for the benefit of the uninitiated, translations
of the three songs that have appeared in Vol. III. of these
Memoirs, at the respective pages 56, 59, and 169. The
first we have taken from the Noctes Ambrosianaa of
Blackwood’s Magazine for Jul'y, 1829 ; the other two,
with “ all their faults and all their errors," are to be
added to the list of the translator’s sins, who would
apologise to the Muse, did he but know which of the nine
presides over slang poetry '.
I.
ODOHERTY— Cantat.
“ As from ken (l) to ken I was going,
Doing a bit on the prigging lay (2);
Who should I meet, but a jolly blowen (3),
Tel 101, lol lol, tol derol, ay;
Who should I meet, but a jolly blowen,
Who was fly (4) to the time o’ day(5).
. Quere CIy-o ?-Printer‘s Devil.
(1) Ken—shop, house. (2) Prigging lay-thieving business.
(3) Blowen—girl, strumpet, sweetheart.
(4) Fly, [contraction of flash] awake—up to, practised in.
(5) Time o'dey—knowledge of business, thieving, 62c.


262 APPENDIX.
“ ‘ Tramp it, tramp it, my jolly blowen,
Or he grabbed by the beaks we may ;
And we shall caper a-heel-and-toeing,
To] 101, &c.
A Newgate hornpipe some fine day.
“ ‘And we shall caper a-heel-and-toeing,
A Newgate hornpipe some fine day;
With the mots (25), their ogles (26) throwing,
Tol 101, due.
And old Cotton (27) humming his pray (28),
“ ‘ With the mots their ogles throwing,
And old Cotton humming his pray;
And the fogle—hunters (29) doing,
Tol 101, &c.
Their morning fake (30) in the prigging lay.’ ”
(25) Mots-Girls- (26) Ogles-eyes.
(27) Old Cotton—the Ordinary of Newgate.
(28) Humming his pray—saylng hls prayers.
(29) Fogle hunters—pickpockets.
(30) Morning fake—morning thievery.
II.
Ten or a dozen ‘ cocks of the game'
On the prigging lay (l) to the flash-house (2) came,
Lushing blue ruin and heavy wet (3)
Till the darkey (4), when the downy (5) set.
All toddled (6), and began the hunt
For readers, tatlers, fogles, or blunt (7).
(l) Thievlng. (2) House frequented by thieves and prostitutes.
(.1) Drinking gin and porter. (4) Night. (5) Knowing.
(6) Went. (7) Pocket-books, watches, handkerchiefs, and money.


APPENDIX. 263
thatever swag (8) we chance for to get,
Allis fish what comes to net :
Mind your eye, and draw the yokel (9),
Don’t disturb or use the folk ill.
Keep a look out, if the beaks (10) are nigh,
And out your stick (1] ), before they’re fly (12).
As I’vas a crossing St. James’s Park
I met a swell, a well-tugged (l3) spark.
I stops a bit : then toddles quicker,
For I’d prigged his reader, drawn his ticker (l4) ;
Then he calls—“ Stop thief !” Thinks I, my master,
That‘s a hint to me to mizzle (15) faster.
When twelve bells chime the prigs (16) return,
And rap at the ken of Uncle -———— :
Uncle open the door of your crib (17)
If you’d share the swag, or have one dib (18).
Quickly draw the bolt of your ken,
Or we'll not shell out a mag (19), old .

Then, says Uncle, says he to his blowen, I
‘ Dy'e twig (20) these coves, my mot (21) so knowing?
Are they out and outers (22), deary?
Are they {Ogle-hunters, or cracksmen leery (23) P
Are they coves of the ken (24), d'ye know ?
Shall I let 'em in, or tell ’em to go?
“ Oh ! I knows ’em now; hand over my breaches—
I always looks out for business—vich is
A reason vy a man should rouse
At any hour for the good of his house.
(8) Booty. (9) Rob the unguarded. (l0) Oflieers.
(ll) Run away. (12‘ Find it out. (13) Well dressed.
(14) Watch. (15) Run. (16) Thieves-
(l7) House. (18) The least share. (19) Give you a halfpenny.
(20) Know- (21) Woman. (22) Celebrated characters.
(23) Daring burglars. (24) Frequenters ot' the house.


264 APPENDIX.
The top o'the morning, gemmen all,
And for vot you vants I begs you’ll call."
But now the beaks were on the scent,
And watched by moonlight where we went ;—
Stagged (25) us a toddling into the ken,
And were down (26) upon us all; and then
Who should I spy but the slap-up spark
What 'I eased of the swag in St. James’s Park.
There’s a time, says King Sol (27), to dance and sing ;
I know there’s a. time for another thing :
There’s a time to pipe and a time to snivel—
I wish all Charlies (28) and Beaks at the Devil:
For they grabbed (29) me on the prigging lay (30),
And I know I’m booked for Botny Bay (3l).’

(25) Watched. (26) Surprised.
(27) King Solomon, we presume. (28) Watchmen.
(‘29) Seized. (30) Thieving. (31) Sentenced;
III.
“ Happy the days vhen I vorked avay,
In my usual line in the prigging lay;
Making from this and that and t’other,
A tidy living without no bother.
When my little crib vas stored vith swag,
And my cly vas (l) a veil-lined money bag,
Jolly vas I, for I feared no evil,
Fuuked (2) at nought, and pitched care to the devil-
“ I had, beside my blunt, my blowen
‘ So gay, no nutty (3), and so knowing; ’
(1) Packet. (2) Feared. (3) Fond.


270 SEQUEL.
earliest days a professed and expert thief, and, we presume,
was promoted to his present station on the strength of
the old proverb, “ set a thief to calch a thief.” Now
Vidocq has not used very measured: terms in his
mention of Coco, and were his statements impeachable,
it is not probable that Lacour would have allowed them
to pass unnoticed. But it is not our province or inten-
tion to enter into a discussion of the veracity of Vidocq's
Memoirs : be they true or false, were they purely fiction
from the first chapterIto the last, they would, from fer-
tility of invention, knowledge of human nature, and ease
of style, rank only second to the novels of Le Sage. The
two first volumes are perhaps more replete with interest,
because the hero is the leading actor in every scene; but
in the subsequent portions, when he gives the narrative
of others, we cannot but admire the power and graphic
talent of the author. Serjeant Bellerose is scarcely in-
ferior to the Serjeant Kite of Farquhar; and the episodes
of Court and Raoul, in the third volume, and that of
Adele d’Escars, in the fourth, are surpassed in description,
depth of feeling and pathos, by no work of romance with
which we are acquainted.
,Since the commencement of these Memoirs, M.~Vidocq
has given up his paper manufactory at St. Mandé, and
has been subsequently confined in Sainte Pelagic for debt.
His embarrassments are stated to have arisen from a
passion for gambling, a propensity which, once indulged,
takes deep root in the human mind; and few indeed,
lamentably few, are those who can effectually eradicate the
fatal passion. Vidocq, who could assume all shapes like a
second Proteus, who underwent bitter hardships, and un-
sparingly jeopardised his life at any time, could not resist
the fell temptation which has brought him to distress
and a prison.
It must be painful to one, whose peace of mind seems


SEQUEL. 271
so greatly to depend on the enjoyment of freedom, and
all whose exertions and success resulted from an anxiety
to secure his liberty, to be immured in a gaol. To him-
self it must be a galling chain, to his enemies an im-
portant triumph, The Dalilah has at length appeared
who could reduce Sampson's strength to weakness; the
locks have been shorn; he has succumbed beneath the
power of the Philistines. Poor human nature !
It has been stated in some of the Journals that Vidocq
has a son named Julius, who was condemned to the gal-
lies, and when liberated was employed by his father at
St. Mandé. This must be another bitter in life’s cup,
which Vidocq seems condemned to drain to the very dregs.
At the end of the Second Volume we were told by the
autobiographer, that we were to have ample information
on all points connected with the police of France ; he was
to untwist all the “ hidden links” of the system, so efl'ec-
tually carried into action, and whereby, as he tells us, he
has rendered Paris the safest residence in the world.
He thus continues—
“ I will display to the glare of noon-day, the faults of
our criminal informations, and the still greater errors of
our penal code, so absurd in many of its enactments. I will
ask for alterations, revisions, and what I ask will be con-
ceded; because reason, come from where she may, is
always sooner or later understood. I will ofl'er important
ameliorations in the regulations of prisons and bagnes;
and as I compassionate more deeply than another can, the
sufl'erings of my old companions in misery, condemned or
pardoned, I will probe the wound to the bottom; and
shall, perhaps, be the happy man, who will ofi'er to a
philanthropic legislator, the only remedies which it is
possible to apply, and which alone will not be temporising
but effective. In delineations as varied as new], I will
give the original traits of many classes of soniety, destitute


272 BEQUEL.
as yet of all civilization, or rather which have emanated
from her, and infest her, attended by all that is hideous
and infamous !"
Vidocq continues in this strain from page 260 of vol. II.
to the end of that volume ; and yet, how far has he per-
formed this promise? He has given us a nomenclature
of the assassins, thieves, and swindlers of France, and no
more. He has interspersed the list with brief anecdotes
and trite advice; he has told us nothing with which we
were not previously acquainted, as far as concerns the
modes adopted by miscreants of all denominations to at.
tain their ends, whether by robbery only, or by plunder,
wedded to murder.
Where are “ his important ameliorations "P Where
his “ only remedies which it is possible to apply, and
which alone will be not temporising, but effective ”?
Where his “ institutions, to purify and regulate the
manners of the people "P Where are his accounts “ of all
police now existing, from that of the Jesuit to that of the
court ; from the police of the Bureau des Mneurs to the
diplomatic police ”? Where is the show-up of all the
wheel-work, great and small, of those machines, which
are always in motion ? Where is the “ developement of
all those things (and more), without disguise, without
fear, without temper"? Where, we ask, are all these
details,._all these revelations,—all this information,—all
this counsel ”?——And Echo answers—“ Where 2 ”
Sieur Eugene-Franqois Vidocq, you are weighed in the
cale of your own erection, and are found wanting ! And
do your omissions, repressious, result from fear P—We
believe not. Do they result from incapabilit-y, from in.
competency to undertake, from inadequacy to fulfil your
promised task 'i—‘Ve believe not. \Vas it that you were
compelled to silence by the powers that be P Was it that
you wished to pufi your_work into a more extensive sale?


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_ LONDON:
f f. PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLQWES,
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