France overrun with fugitive galley-slaves—Life and property constantly in danger—Vidocq offers his services to the cause of law and order—M. Henri refuses to accept his cooperation—Vidocq taken again, and again offers M. Henri his services—A compact finally made with him—Becomes a “mouton” and renders very useful service—Brings about the capture of the notorious receiver—Routs out a robbers’ home kept by Mother Noel—Does good work in the discovery and arrest of Fossard and others who robbed the Royal Library of a great collection of old coins and medals—Vidocq, the father of the French Detective Police—His portrait—A man of unexampled courage, fertility of resource and great physical strength—The “police provocative,” an invention of the day—The so-called conspiracy of Colmar—Saumur and the betrayal of La BÉdoyÈre.
The state of France during the period which has just been described was deplorable. There was little security for property, and life was constantly in danger. Whole bands of fugitive galley-slaves were at large, pursuing their evil courses with the utmost daring and effrontery. They were apprehended from time to time, but were acquitted, when arraigned, for want of evidence; witnesses as to identity were not forthcoming, and unless caught red-handed there were no proofs of guilt. To surprise them and take them into custody knowledge of their domicile was essential; and they were so cunning and evasive that it was not easy to ascertain this fact. It was under these circumstances that justice in France, in its eagerness to check these depredations and to protect the deserving, industrious population, secretly sought the aid of spies and informers willing to work against the criminal fraternity. Vidocq was one of the first to go over. He was weary of the life he led, the unceasing anxiety, the constant fear of recognition by old associates, the incessant blackmail to which he was subjected; and to escape re-arrest he was driven in self-defence to retaliate and offer his services to the cause of order. Matters were brought to a crisis when he was called upon to participate in a series of robberies to be perpetrated by old convicts, whose hands were already bloodstained. Vidocq, realising that whether he refused this proposal or not he must be compromised sooner or later in other infamous deeds, resolved to go in person to the Chief of Police, at that time a M. Henri, an excellent officer, who rendered eminent service in his day. Vidocq confided in the Chief, and explained his situation, saying, if his presence in Paris was tolerated and he was assured immunity from arrest, he could promise much valuable information. He could lay his hands upon great numbers of convicts at large, knowing precisely their places of residence and many of their plans. M. Henri at once declined to enter into any compact of the kind. All he would say was: “I have no objection to receiving any information. We will test it and use it for what it is worth; perhaps we may accept your services in the long run, but we can make no promises and agree to no antecedent conditions. You must take your chance.” “Under these circumstances I may consider myself already a dead man,” replied Vidocq; “for it might come out that I had given information, and my life would be forfeited.” M. Henri would not alter his decision, and dismissed Vidocq without even asking his name.
His overtures thus rejected, and himself still closely pressed by his evil associates, Vidocq passed several anxious months. His fears were verified by the certainty that the suspicions of the police were aroused, and that his house was watched. His arrest seemed imminent, and he was resolved to leave Paris without delay. But he was too late. One morning, in the small hours, a light knock came at the street door. Vidocq felt sure that he was immediately to be arrested. He dressed, and ran quickly up-stairs, got out upon the roof and hid himself behind a stack of chimneys. His surmises were correct, for the house was speedily invested by police agents, who hunted for him high and low, and found him where escape was hopeless except at the risk of breaking his neck. He was carried at once to the Prefecture and into the presence of M. Henri, who remembered him perfectly. The chief, in the interval, had changed his mind. The increase in crime had led him to believe that Vidocq might be usefully employed in laying his hands upon the worst offenders at large. Nothing was said, however, and Vidocq was removed for a third time to BicÊtre, to take his departure with the next chain gang. At BicÊtre, Vidocq wrote privately to the Chief of Police, offering his services afresh. He made no condition but that he should not be sent back to a bagne, and expressed his willingness to complete his sentence in any prison in France. M. Henri still hesitated. One argument militated against accepting Vidocq’s proposal. This was the barrenness of the results achieved by others who had promised largely and performed little. Vidocq in his own defence appealed to his good conduct when at large, his continuous efforts to earn an honest livelihood, the production of his books and correspondence and many letters, bearing witness to his probity and good character.
Vidocq was detained between BicÊtre and La Force for nearly two years, and no doubt rendered useful service as mouton, the French slang word for a spy who worms himself into the confidence of his fellow prisoners and denounces them. In this way he came upon the addresses of numbers of escaped convicts who were in prison under false names, and was able to give constant information of plots in progress for carrying out new crimes. His reports were closely examined and compared with others, so as to obtain corroboration or the reverse. They were so generally accurate that M. Henri realised the value of this unofficial assistant, and came to the conclusion that such a man would be more useful when free. He was at length released from his probationary detention. To keep up the deception and to screen him from possible suspicion and discovery by the comrades he had betrayed, he was removed from La Force in the ordinary way, handcuffed and under escort, but en route to BicÊtre was permitted to escape. He went at once into hiding, and posed amongst his friends as extraordinarily successful in avoiding recapture. Of course, he carried his life in his hands and would have been instantly sacrificed to the vengeance of those he betrayed, had he been found out. But no one doubted him. He enjoyed unlimited confidence, and was always in high favor with the thieves and bandits, among whom he constantly lived. He was at home in all the lowest dens of Paris, and was a trusted member of the criminal fraternity, all of whom he knew intimately, their favorite haunts and whereabouts and the schemes in which they were engaged. He was frequently invited to join in their depredations and seldom refused, but always carefully avoided taking part in them by failing at the appointed rendezvous or inventing some flimsy excuse for holding aloof. The strange fact is emphasised by Vidocq, that the dangerous classes are singularly simple and unsuspicious. They seemed to take arrest almost as a matter of course, and seldom paused to inquire, when once in custody, how or through whom they had been taken. No one blamed Vidocq, who was their friend, often their hero and model for imitation.
Meanwhile robberies of every description continued to be perpetrated, and Vidocq was more and more in demand. He made it his business to undertake a series of rounds through Paris and the immediate neighborhood, and regularly visited the worst quarters, ever on the alert to discover and check projected crimes. He was taken on by the Prefecture as a salaried agent at the rate of 100 francs per month, with a specially apportioned reward for every arrest, according to its importance. This salary was saddled with a condition that he should produce a certain number of criminals at regular intervals; and his enemies declared that he was capable of any base perfidy in order to make up his required quota of arrests, and that he heartlessly betrayed people, to whom he was under obligation—as in the case of the tanner with whom he lodged, and whom he secretly denounced as a fabricator of false money. A medical man who attended him was implicated in this charge, and both were arrested and sent to travaux forcÉs. He was accused also of instigating crimes of which he gave information, and saw to it that their perpetrators were taken in the act or with clear evidence. It may be claimed that in criminal matters all is fair that may conduce to arrest, although this savors of the argument that “the end justifies the means.” Vidocq, at least, had no scruples, and would lay traps and be guilty of any treachery in order to bring an offender to justice. He had no reason to be proud of the manner in which he routed out the house of Madame Noel—commonly known as the mother of the robbers—which was a certain refuge and receptacle, where they could always find shelter and assistance. Mother Noel provided for all their wants. She always knew where they could find work, each one on his particular “lay.” She had blank passports on hand, and could fabricate papers for any one in want of them. Vidocq visited the house and acted the part of a convict recently escaped, still bearing the marks of his chains, with closely cropped hair, worn out and wearied, his feet lacerated, his whole air that of one hunted and proscribed. He won the woman’s sympathy instantly, and was made warmly welcome. He was given a bath, his wounds were dressed and he was put to bed in a very private room. He soon wormed himself into her confidence, gained all the knowledge he required, and eventually broke up this refuge and receptacle so useful to the thieves of Paris.
The way by which he contrived to come upon the secret store of a notorious receiver of stolen goods was more excusable. This man’s operations were well known to the police, but they had failed to bring his crime home to him. Vidocq met him one day and claimed his acquaintance, calling him by a name different from his own. The receiver declared it was all a mistake, but Vidocq persisted, adding that he knew the man was wanted by the police. Whereupon the other said: “Let us go to the nearest police station, where I shall easily find someone who can speak positively upon my identity as a resident of this quarter.” It was an incautious move, for Vidocq, on reaching the station, still refused to believe that the man was not the person he had declared him to be, and called upon him with an air of authority to produce his papers. None were forthcoming, and Vidocq begged that he might be searched, when twenty-five double napoleons and three gold watches were found upon his person, somewhat suspicious property. The man was now detained until he could be taken before a magistrate, and the articles found in his pockets were wrapped in his own handkerchief. Vidocq, armed with this, visited the receiver’s house, saw his wife and showed the handkerchief, which she recognised at once. “I thought you ought to know,” went on Vidocq, noticing that she was greatly perturbed, “that your husband has been arrested. Everything found on him has been seized, and he believes that he has been betrayed. I come from him to beg you to have all the property, you know what I mean, removed, as these premises are to be searched immediately, and something compromising may be found.” The woman, thoroughly alarmed, begged Vidocq, whom she looked upon as a friend, to go out and bring back three hackney coaches. When they arrived they were loaded up with articles of every description, timepieces, candelabra, Etruscan vases, cloths, cashmeres, linens, muslins, etc. At the proper moment the police surrounded the coaches, and more than enough was at once found to convict the receiver.
One of the most remarkable robberies in Paris was that of the collection of old coins and medals from the Royal Library, now known as the National Library in the rue Richelieu. This collection is reputed one of the finest in the world, and, besides a couple of hundred thousand coins, contains a great number of cut gems and antiques, dating back into the earliest times. Cameos, crystals, agate goblets, bronzes, ivories, sacrificial cups of massive gold, choice medallions, tankards richly chased by artists whose names have not survived, and so on, are among its treasures. The news of the robbery was received with dismay at the Prefecture. An immediate inspection made by the police showed how cleverly the thieves had gained admission to the cabinet containing the collection of medals. They gained access to a neighboring house, and ascended to the roof and slid over the slates to a garret window in the library. They broke through this, reached the back stairs and slipped down into the principal salon. A solid oak door at the north end of the salon shut off the medal room, but the thieves sawed through it, and entered the inner room, which was lighted by a large window opening on to the rue Richelieu. It was easy enough to break into the cases, sweep up a large number of the precious coins and lower them to the confederates in the street below.
With close examination of the premises the detectives were satisfied that only one of three famous burglars could have accomplished the theft. The work had been executed most cleverly. The panel in the door had been cut out by a skilled hand. The saw, left behind, was a very perfect tool. The candle in the dark lantern, also abandoned, was of the finest wax, and the rope used was of the best quality. Only the most expert thief would have expended so much care and capital upon the enterprise. The three men indicated were Fossard, a notorious convict, who should have been in the bagne of Brest, but had recently escaped and was at large; a friend of his, Drouillet by name, ex-convict at liberty, and Toupriant, believed to be then in England.
Light was suddenly thrown upon the mystery of the theft by the arrest of the first of these men. Vidocq met him in the street, and remembered his face, as of one who had passed through his hands on a previous occasion. This was hardly enough to justify arrest, but the astute police officer whom Vidocq informed took the responsibility. The man seemed so confused, and his replies were so unsatisfactory, that he was carried at once to the Prefecture, where he was at last definitely recognised by various officials. The fact that this man, Fossard, was in Paris strengthened the suspicion that he had been concerned in the robbery of the medals, and he was at once questioned, after the French manner, to extract some confession. It was all to no purpose. Fossard stoutly denied all knowledge of the theft. The police next tried to bribe him in hope of recovering at least a part of the stolen property, the intrinsic worth of which was nothing to its sentimental value, which was estimated at a million francs. Fossard persisted in his denials, and was at length committed to BicÊtre to take his place in the next chain departing for Brest. He waited there for several months, in such an abject condition and so destitute of means that his comrades subscribed a sum to provide him with sabots and a pair of trousers for his long march. But a clandestine letter of his was intercepted, in which he begged a friend to forward him 25,000 francs ($5,000) to Brest, for his use on arrival at the bagne. He was therefore clearly in funds.
The effrontery of a woman who posed as the Vicomtesse de Nays paved the way to further discovery. This pretended great lady, who was really the associate of thieves and the wife of one of Fossard’s friends, was on the best of terms with the Prefecture, and quite an intimate friend of the Prefect. She passed as a charitable person with many protÉgÉs, whom she was eager to befriend by obtaining places for them and supplying them with funds when temporarily in distress. At one of her visits to the Prefecture she pressed the prefect to honor her with his company at dinner, and it was quite by accident that he discovered that his fellow guests included some of the most notorious criminals in the capital. Happily for his reputation he discovered that she was well acquainted with Fossard; and, yet more, that she had taken places for herself and maid in the diligence for Brest, where, no doubt, she was to carry him substantial aid. Other valuable news was forthcoming, namely; that a number of the stolen medals had been melted down into ingots, and that some of them were in the possession of the so-called Vicomtesse de Nays. Others were traced to the Drouillet above mentioned as a possible thief, and others to Fossard’s brother, a clockmaker of Paris. Arrests followed, and the clockmaker confessed that his brother and Drouillet had committed the robbery and had melted down a portion of the booty and thrown the rest into the Seine—where, as a matter of fact, it was subsequently fished out. More stolen property was unearthed in the clockmaker’s cellars.
When the case came up for trial both the Fossards were sentenced, the elder Etienne, to travaux forcÉs for life, the younger to ten years. Drouillet was sentenced to twenty years. Madame de Nays was brought to Paris and her domicile searched, but no fresh proofs of her complicity in the robbery were forthcoming, and she was released; but it was clear that her kindness to the young men she patronised was repaid, both in the shape of information and assistance in the planning of robberies. A pretty incident is related of the recovery of these valuable treasures. A well-known savant who was called in by the Prefecture to identify them was so overcome by emotion when he saw them again that he burst into tears and kissed them repeatedly, especially the seal of Michael Angelo, the cup of the Ptolemies and the “Apotheosis of Augustus,” the largest cameo in the world.
Before leaving Fossard it may be interesting to note that he had been a long time at large in Paris, and was the author of innumerable thefts. His capture was a difficult matter, for he was a reckless character, who had frequently been sent to the bagnes and as frequently escaped therefrom. The police report said of him: “Unequalled for intrepidity and always armed to the teeth, he must be attacked with caution.” He declared that he would blow out the brains of any police agent who attempted to apprehend him. Vidocq obtained great credit for making the arrest. Fossard lived in great retirement at the shop of a vintner, who was secretly warned by Vidocq that Fossard intended to rob him, and, if necessary, to cut his throat in doing so. The vintner, alarmed, was willing enough to admit the police, and Fossard was overpowered by the gensdarmes and taken in his bed. Fossard’s history was curious. He had embarked early upon a career of crime. He came of decent people, and had received a good education, but his nature was vicious and he speedily lapsed into evil courses. One peculiar characteristic was useful to him in his nefarious business. He had a natural taste for the fabrication of keys, and was known as one of the most skilful locksmiths of his time. He died at Brest, two or three years after his conviction of the robbery of the medals.
Vidocq, with all his shrewdness and insight into criminal human nature, was himself capable of being deceived. Later on, when he had secured a firm foothold in the police and was actually director of the newly created detective department, a man unknown to him came to offer his services as an indicateur. When asked what he could do he answered, “Anything.” “Well,” said Vidocq, “take these two five-franc pieces, and bring me the best two fowls you can find in the market.” The man returned with the fowls and the money also. “How did you do it?” asked Vidocq. “I went to the market,” said the messenger, “carrying the basket on my shoulders, which I had filled with stones with straw on the top. I also bought some vegetables, which were placed on top of the straw. When I bought the fowls, I begged the woman, as I stood before her, to place them on the basket; in doing this her hands were occupied and mine free, the pockets of her apron were close in front of me and I soon recovered my two five-franc pieces and thirty francs besides.” “That was clever,” cried Vidocq, “do you often work like that? Come again to-morrow. I daresay I shall find you a job.” The would-be agent went off delighted, taking with him Vidocq’s gold watch and the contents of his pockets. The thief had made the most of his time, and, while explaining his action in robbing the woman who had sold him the fowls, had repeated the trick upon Vidocq as he stood before him.
Vidocq was no doubt the father of the now famous French detective police, and its unsavory origin has been often quoted against it. The authorities themselves were ashamed of using such means for the repression of crime, and after ten or a dozen years Vidocq was dismissed from his employment, only to resume it, after the Revolution of 1830, in a private and unofficial character, secretly approved of by the authorities. He still hoped to return to the PrÉfecture, and sought to bring it about by proving his value. One of his agents concerted with several old convicts to carry out a burglary in a rich man’s house. Vidocq was able to give early information, and the police were in a position to capture the burglars in the act. Such an arrest brought much credit to Vidocq, who was reinstated in his old office. But the thieves were in due course arraigned for trial, and one of them informed against Vidocq’s agent, as having suggested the crime. The judge ordered the arrest of the agent. Vidocq reported that he had left Paris, and was not to be found. Again the thieves accused. The judge now learned that the agent was actually employed under Vidocq, and the agent was then taken, tried and sentenced. Vidocq was again discredited, and the detective office or bureau, now known as the “Police de la SÛretÉ,” was re-organised on a new and perfectly straightforward basis.
The character of Vidocq looms large in the annals of French crime. His was a strange personality, and he did some wonderful, although unworthy, not to say infamous, things. A good picture of him is preserved by M. Moreau Christophe, long Inspector General of French prisons. Vidocq, he tells us, was gifted with extraordinary audacity. His courage was almost unexampled. He had an amazing fertility of resource, and was endowed with remarkable physical strength. He belonged in turn to the two extremes of society. He might late in life be called an honest man, but he certainly had been a thief. His nature was strangely contradictory and had two sides, both in manners and in conduct. He was garrulous yet discreet; always a boaster, yet cunning and secretive. Although prompt to execute, he was much given to thought before action; when he seemed to make a chance stroke it was the result of careful previous calculation. His appearance was peculiar. Of middle height, but built like a small Hercules, he had a large head, carried on a short, sinewy neck. His yellow hair was thick and close grown; he had a flat nose, open nostrils and a large humorous mouth, fleshy cheeks with salient cheek-bones, small, piercing green eyes, which glittered under prominent thick eyebrows. A phrenologist was called in to examine his head without knowing his name, and reported on his cranium as combining three types: “that of a liar, a diplomatist and a sister of charity.” To this M. Moreau Christophe adds the suggestion that he would have been better described as “an ape, a fox and an old humbug.”
Vidocq’s character was despicable, but his underground methods, exercised for the protection of society, were largely adopted by the police of the day. If the ex-thief thief-taker betrayed his old associates, his action contributed to the reduction of crime; but there was no such excuse for the official guardians of law and order who encouraged, indeed actually manufactured, crime. Men who had come into power at the Restoration stooped to support their authority by seeking to prove that the monarchy was still threatened by conspirators, eager to reËstablish the fallen rÉgime. Rumors of dangerous plots were constantly current, and, as they were mostly insignificant or imaginary, it was necessary to invent them. For this purpose a special police was called into existence, known at the time as the Police provocative. Agents were employed to instigate and incite those who were unguarded in the expression of their Bonapartist leanings to join in some combination against existing authority. Traps were laid, sham conspiracies started and simple folk drawn into them, only to be betrayed and denounced by the treacherous agents, who had led them on. Often enough honest workmen were persuaded, by specious counsels and unlimited drink, to band themselves together to overthrow the government; and when committed beyond explanation or avowal they were arrested and thrown into gaol. This system of provocation largely prevailed under the Bourbons. A very shabby trick was played upon Colonel Caron, who was concerned in the so-called conspiracy of Colmar. He had been arrested on suspicion, but was released and was living quietly at Colmar, when a secret agent came to him, pretending to be in trouble with the police for his known political leanings. Colonel Caron opened his heart to this traitor, revealed particulars of a plot in progress, all of which were duly carried to the Prefect, who gave the agent orders to lead his victim on. A rising was planned, and everything was ready. Colonel Caron put on his uniform to head the conspirators, and when he rode out with cries of “Vive l’Empereur,” he was arrested by his own supposed followers, who were agents in disguise. For this he lost his head, while the police agents were handsomely rewarded.
The Saumur conspiracy was similarly fatal to General Berton. He had long been more than suspected of heading a conspiracy centred at Saumur, for the necessary evidence had been gained through the abominable practice then in force of tampering with private correspondence in the post. The warrant for his arrest had been issued, but he saw the officers approaching from his window and escaped through a door leading into the garden. The authorities were determined to take him and sent a secret agent to hunt him up. The agent ran into him at length at Thouars, where he was in hiding with a supposed fellow conspirator, an ex-sergeant Wolfen, who was in reality another agent of the police. The general was presently arrested and tried as a traitor, and in due course suffered death.
Another case on all fours with these was that of Colonel La BÉdoyÈre, who, to make the story blacker, was denounced by a police officer under the greatest obligation to him. This Colonel La BÉdoyÈre was an ardent adherent of the Emperor Napoleon, whom he had joined on his return from Elba. He was engaged at Waterloo, and found it advisable to disappear after the Hundred Days. He took refuge in the country, and was safely concealed for some months; but then, in the teeth of the strong protests of his friends, came back to Paris, where he was arrested and thrown into the Conciergerie. Some devoted friends arranged for his escape from prison, but they could not see their way to passing him out of Paris. Release from the prison was to be effected by buying over an employÉ with a bribe of 10,000 francs, but the rest was not easy, and there were no generous English officers to offer the same help that had been given to La Valette. When the agent, above mentioned as being under obligation to La BÉdoyÈre, was found, he promised to see the Colonel safely through the barrier. When all had been satisfactorily arranged, the scoundrel went straight to the Prefect, and gave information, both of the intended escape and the persons who were to assist in it. Shortly after this La BÉdoyÈre was sentenced to death and was shot, while the agent received promotion and a considerable sum as a reward. The sequel is worth telling as a proof that Nemesis waits on such contemptible conduct. The man was looked upon with disfavor even by the police, retired into private life and became engaged in a commercial undertaking, which presently failed. His misfortunes deepened. He was constantly a prey to remorse, and eventually he took his own life.
Whatever the faults of the system of police espionage and criminal detection, of which Vidocq was the first to make systematic use, it was the premier attempt at anything like a well equipped detective organisation ever made; and as such it must be regarded as the foundation of the whole detective establishment of the police system of to-day.
