# Memoirs of Vidocq, Volume III/Chapter 38

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 previously to my admission into the police, came to offer his services to me for the fête 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, pickpockets assemble there in large bodies. It was on Friday 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 ​had led to his being brought before the court of assises. 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 proffers 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. On 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 park, he returned and told me that he could not find Hotot. The moment afterwards I saw my man himself running towards me bathed in perspiration, "You do not know," said he to us, "that I had just got hold of six prigs, but they saw you and instantly mizzled; I am sorry, for they swallowed the bait, but what is deferred is not lost, and I shall have them yet."
I pretended to take all this for gospel, and Hotot ​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 peace officers told me that many watches had been stolen to a direction precisely 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 Gaffré 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 Bœuf, where he resided. I proposed to my comrade of the watch to accompany me, and, on his assenting, we went to Hotot's, where, on knocking, he opened the door and appeared surprised to see us; "what a wonder at this early hour."
"Are you astonished?" said I; "we come to have a glass with you."
"Oh! you are welcome;" and then jumping into bed, "Where is the liquor?"
"Gaffré will be so kind as to fetch it."
I put my hand into my pocket, and as Gaffré, 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 a very extraor​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 spoke of the rain and the fine weather, but more of the fine weather than the rain, and when we had nothing left to drink we went away.
Once out of the house, I communicated to Gaffré 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?" we inquired of each other; perhaps he has joined some gang. Gaffré 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 contents. Ah! 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."
​"During the heavy shower! parbleu!" I cried, "you know one of the robbers."
"Who is he?"
"Hotot."
"He who served the police, and who asked leave again to enter it?"
"The same."
I told M. Henry my suspicions and remarks, and as he was convinced that I was correct, I went out instantly, 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 afford precise indications; and precautions were taken that they should not be effaced. 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 thus executed. On getting to Hotot's residence we made a tremendous noise et 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!" 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!" he cried, "it is a turkey."
"Yes, a brother of yours, and, as you see, it is by ​its feet that we know this sort of animal: do you understand me now?"
"What does he say?"
"I say it is roasted."
"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, Gaffré stooped down, picked up his shoes, and put them in his hat.
"Well, and what did you give for this bit of hollow?"
"Seven bob, a hick, 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 1s perfectly tempting! We will soon settle his business."
"Who carves? I cannot."
"Well, then, we will help you; is there & knife in the box?"
"Yes, look in the drawer."
I found a knife, and then sought an excuse to send Gaffré out. "Oh, by the way," said I, whist I laid the cloth, "you can oblige me by going to my house, and saying, that they need not wait diner for me."
"Very well, and then you will be off without me; that is no go; I shall not cut my stick until I have had some grubbery."
"But we cannot cut 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."
Gaffré was like the majority of police agents, and, except being treacherous, a good enough fellow; but a perfect gourmand. With him the belly superseded all other business; and thus, although he had obtained ​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 hastened, therefore, to cut up the bird, and when the wine arrived, "Come to table," I cried to my gastronomist, "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 Gaffré, "I can toddle. 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. O."
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?"
"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; Gaffré will not escape, for we have not sent in our report these two days."
This lie was not without its purpose; it was not necessary that Hotot should think I had been informed of the robbery in which I believed him a participator; he was without mistrust, and I kept him in that 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!" he said, sighing, "if I were certain of entering the police again, with a pay of twelve or fifteen bob a day, I could give such information! I know now of a burglary, which would be a welcome disclosure to M. Henry."
​"Do you?"
"Yes, three robbers, Berchier called Bicêtre, Caffin, and Linois, whom I will give up to him in the actual fact, as sure as you and I make two."
"If you can, why don't you? That would be an excellent beginning."
"I know it, but—"
"Are you afraid to make yourself seem visible in the business? If you perform services, I will do my best to ensure your admission."
"Ah, my friend, you pour balm into my mind; you will procure my admission."
"Oh that will be easily effected."
"Come then, a bumper to luck," cried Hotot, transborted with joy.
"Yes, let us drink to your approaching reception."
"And the sooner the better."
Hotot was enchanted, and already laid down a line of conduct; he had his dreams of happiness, and there was in his very legs those inquietudes of hope which are produced by the prospect of coming pleasure. I was afraid lest he should quit his bed, when at length some person knocked at the door; it was Gaffré, holding in his hand a small bottle of brandy, which Annette had given to him. "Traiffe," said my Israelitish colleague as he entered, in that Hebrew slang, which was doubtless the favourite language of our patron, Monsieur Judas. Traiffe and maron are one and the same thing. As I pique myself on being a Hebraist of the first order, I instantly comprehended him, and saw how to play my cards. Whilst I was pouring out for the neophyte the nectar of a policeman, Gaffré replaced the shoes. We continued to chat and drink, and before we parted, I learnt that the plunder of the lead was that of which Hotot proposed to point out the perpetrators. The father Bellemont, a blacksmith of the Rue de la Tannerie, was the fence whom he mentioned to me.
As these details were interesting, I told Hotot that I ​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 separated. Gaffré had not left me. "Well!" 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 traiffe; and now I had only to take measures accordingly. I had already explained Hotot's conduct to myself, and I readily conceited 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 rèestablisbed 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 recompense of his crime, and if the unhappy creatures who have 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 Simonet, 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 ​flambeau 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 apprehended and taken to prison, where you must pump a cove that we shall nab this evening. As you will be in quod before him, he will not take you for a sneak, and when he in brought in you can easily plant yourself 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 pavé for the amorously disposed, was nigh, she was not angry with him for leaving her so soon.
"Now you have got rid of the mot, I will give you instructions. You know the little ken on the boulevard Montmartre in front of the Theatre des Variétés?"
"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."
​"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 depot."
"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 experienced was dissipated never to return. He gave me his hand, and we parted; he walked with all the velocity of eager satisfaction; the earth seemed scarcely to bear 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 Bicêtre; I told them what they were to do and followed them. They entered the house.
Scarcely had they crossed the threshold, when Hotot, faithful to the orders I had given him, pointed to himself 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 Artabanes, 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 inclined, 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: be blessed his bonds: he contemplated them almost with love, for, as he believed, all this preparation was but a ceremonious form; and in fact, like some philosopher of antiquity, he could boast of being free in his chains; ​and he said in a low voice to the inspectors, "Devil fetch me if I run! The mauleys 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 confessed. 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 supper now," he added, with the comico-serio accent of that lachrymose gaiety which is less touching than laughable;—"they are making sport of me, perhaps they are stuffing 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 purpose?"
Unfortunately, the officer, who told us all these particulars 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 any power to act for himself, however desirous of so doing, he drew the bolt upon Hotot, who, unable ​to obtain anything from the inspectors, made his moan in the following broken and interrupted soliloquy, which, heard through the door, excited 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!—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 unlucky go for me!—It plays the deuce with my stomach; I want to eat, and have nothing.—How my belly cries cupboard.—This is a nice new year's present, I must confess.—Do they want to try my appetite?—A very excellent method, certainly—fasting is good for young people.—Never mind, never mind, it will not kill me the time, and I shall breakfast all the better in the morning.—I will wager they are guzzling 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 calendar!—Well, why put yourself out, my boy?—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 streets in the neighbourhood of the place du Châtelet, had joined Emilie Simonet, in one of those low haunts where, to ​suit light purses, a landlady keeps liquors and lasses, both tending to 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 philosophes, (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 convened her to Bagatelle. 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 palled, find a relish in the pota​toes of La Grève. 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 liberalities 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 debauched beings who infest these places in double capacities; 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 Laïs, 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, alternating between a prison and a hospital, exhausts, in her own 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 Temple: and she who, during the ephemeral triumph of her attractions scarcely budded, disdained the first fruits of the fashion, finds still wherewithal to deck herself in that faded finery, which, falling lower and lower, has, at length, reached the wardrobe of mother Bariole. Thus we see a broken-down prad of the hackney drag assume, with ​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 profitable to morality, to have the narrative of some of mother Bariole's nymphs: it might be to the purpose to add to it the biography of this venerable matron, who, placed for fifty years in the very centre of blows from fists, kicks 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 cup of comfort. This dear mother Bariole, how often she sent to the Mont-de-Piété for the militia of good conduct, (bureau de mœurs,) to regale them with oysters and white wine! How generous the inspectors found her, and how compassionate the thieves! The confidence of the latter ​she never betrayed. With what interest did she listen to the wailings of those who were out of work, and, tending 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. "Work, 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 pleasure, 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 epaulettes; but then she doated on worsted lace, and nothing could equal her affection for subalterns in general, and particularly those who were well-looking: she was a mother to them all. "Ah, my darling!" 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 establishment be supported 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 favourite. Mother Bariole thought I was about to throw the handkerchief in her harem.
"You cannot ask me for any one whom I would more readily give to you."
"Is she, then, your favourite?"
"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 Christians have as much natural affection as animals? ​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 do 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 believe in nothing."
"You have some religion, then, mother Bariole."
"I hope I have: I do not like priests, but that is all this same. It is not eight days since I had a nine days' devotion made at Sainte-Geneviève 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-head."
"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."
​"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."
"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 vintner'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 give her 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 Magdalenes; 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 griefs, 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 ​at 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 buttering me down. You are trying it on! I know well enough that Félicité 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 scran to Lorcefé; (La Force;) that is the time to judge if one is true or not.
"That is true, you took every care of him, I was witness 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 injury of my trade. I am sure that no one could say a word 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 quod 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 undergone, 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! It was not Félicité, then, who gave them to him?"
"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 Simonet, 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 ​when easing the next cull 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 washerwoman's daughter sworn by the ashes of her mother,-but by the ashes of my father! The words are even more formidably than the prophetic nebulæ which alarmed Fontenelle: they comprise an entire monography. In the mouth of a woman who would seem to be honest, they are always a bad augury, whatever be her appearance or real situation; without running 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 nothing. May I be the greatest wretch under the canopy of heaven; by all that I hold dearest in life; by the life of my 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 righthand, 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 Hotot ​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 I can keep nothing from you; but I forewarn you, do not nose, if so, take care of yourself. I 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 Bœufs. He 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 be parsed the night before last with Félicité at the Place du Palais Royal."
"Oh, then, you're wrong, for he was with his friends."
"With Caffin, Bicêtre, and Linois; Hotot 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; if I am a spy, I have my feelings about me still!"
"I know, my dear Jules, that you were compelled to enter the police, or else return to the Bagne."
"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 upon comrades: and now, my lad of mettle, tell me, where did he go with the mot?"
"Do you wish to know? They went to roost at ​Bicêtre's. I cannot give you the address, for I did not ask for it.'
"Oh! gone to Bicêtre! 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?"
"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 Bicêtre was in his lair, I rejoined Emilie, whose brain was actually turned by wine and jealousy.
"Well, now, see how unlucky we are! they have just left with Bicêtre and his wife, to go and sup at Linois's. I asked where, but they could not inform me."
"P'r'aps they would not; but that is of no consequence, 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!"
"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."
​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?" "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 Caffin to stand some wine. Where does Caffin pitch his tent?"
"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 refusal. I went with Emilie to the Place aux Veaux, and, from ken to ken, taking draughts of courage in each cabaret, 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 Caffin, when a girl named Louison la Blagueuse, 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.
​"It is just so," she continued, "Bicêtre is with his wife, Linois and Caffin are with theirs, Hotot is with Felicité, every Jack has his Jill: the wretch! 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!"
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?" grunted out a harsh voice, and a female approached us. "It is the petite Madelon," cried Emilie.
"Ah my lass! how are you? I am on the look out: have you seen Caffin this evening?"
"Caffin, do you say?"
"Yes, Caffin."
"They are at mother Bariole's."
No hour is unfitting that can be turned to its purpose. Besides Emilie was one of the house. We went in and learnt that Caffin was there, but that Hotot had not made his appearance. On this intelligence, Madame 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 upon her, but there was, for a quarter of an hour, an incessant firing, supported by a succession of glasses of tape poured 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 man! 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! Such fellows as he are to be picked up—. You think he is with Caffin, 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?"
​"There is no one there but Caffin."
"Did I not tell you so?"
"Where is the brute, where is the monster?"
"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'Angleterre."
"Do you think he is there?"
"I am sure of it; he went to pass an hour or two and wait until Félicité has finished her evening, and then he will go and meet her in the Rue Froid Manteau."
Emilie did not doubt but that I had exactly guessed the fact and would not delay a moment; she was bursting 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 carrying 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 tête-à-têtes, 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 epileptic, a demoniac; with dishevelled hair, pale, her features frightfully and spasmodically contracted, and the sinews of her neck stretched by passion, she presented the hideous appearance of one of those corpses to whom galvanism gas restored motion. Terrible effects of love and brandy, jealousy and wine! Yet in the crisis which thus agitated her, Emilie did not lose sight of me, but clinging to my arm, swo e never to quit me until she had unkennelled the ingrate who had thus tormented her. ​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 complaisance from me, could but be pleased with my offer, and I went 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 Château 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 further, it may not be useless to say why I 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 Caffin on his guard? It may be objected that she was not in a state even to keep herself upright; I will not dispute that; but the reader must remember that, from the experience of children and drunkards, certain philosophers have been induced to think that men (and women of course included) were originally quadrupeds. 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.
​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!" 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?" 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. "I am obliged to hide it, or with these girls—ah! people are much to be pitied who have to deal with women. I vow, if ever I can get a means of living—how happy they are who have an income to live upon! See, I have not enough to provide myself with an arm-chair. Here is one like a skeleton, we can see its bones."
"Oh! come, tell us about your sofa; it has beautiful hair, and one leg in the air most gracefully," said a young girl, who, when we entered, was sleeping on a table in the corner of the room; "it is like Philemon and Baucis?"
"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 arm-chair; you shall not say so of it any longer. I will have it new stuffed. You see she has had an education, and is not an ignorant beast like us: see what it is to have parents. 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."
​The glass was poured out, and a double row of pearls was formed on the surface of the Coignac.
"It is delicious; I say it is in the Costico Barbaro," 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! It is so pleasant to agree when friends meet! Ah! 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 pass 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 reproach me with wronging them of the value of a pin's head. 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?"
"I'll tell you presently; give us a candle."
"I will bet you want Caffin. Good riddance; I assure you he is a regular fancy man."
"And a woman thumper, too!" 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." 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?" said he, waking; "what, is it you, Jules, who have nabbed me?"
"What do you mean? I am no conjuror, and if you had not been snitched, I should not have come to disturb your sleep."
​"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."
"Well 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 filched 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 gaff, guess the nose and I will tell you."
Caffin 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 compulsion, for I know that if you could make a good 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?"
"To the station of the Place du Châtelet, and if you will tell the facts, I will inform the commissary."
"Yes, tell him to come, I will trap that ——— Hotot, 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​parately, they could not do otherwise than confess their guilt. Hotot, whom they accused of their misfortune, 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 accompanied 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 recollection 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!" she exclaimed, "what had he to do with taking lead from roofs, had he not all that man could wish for with me?" 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 Petronius which add fuel to the already inflamed imagination, and make proselytes to impurity. I describe immorality, not to extend its influences, but to make them ​abominated. Who that has read this chapter, is not horrified at the vices it depicts, since they produce the last degree of brutalization?