# Memoirs of Vidocq, Volume III/Chapter 39

When an individual of passable intellect bends all his faculties to one point, it out 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 myself as to the sort of success of which I was ambitious, and I had not the folly to think that I could effectually extirpate robbery; but by carrying on a war à l'outrance against offenders, 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 estimation, my reputation increased with too much rapidity; for reputation betrayed the mystery of my employ, and from the moment I was known, it was necessary 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 ​daunted me not, and, as I lacked neither zeal nor devotion, I thought it still possible not to destroy the good opinion which the authorities had conceived 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 services 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 police 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 latitude 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 committed 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 Bicêtre, only a statement was necessary whether true or false. Those particularly, who had been already in the hands of justice, were more exposed to the consequences of such denouncements, as no one took the trouble of minute inquiry: 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 a large ​concourse of strangers to Paris, that the streets might be somewhat cleared, it was very convenient to have what was called a raffle; 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 coarse of life, had returned to an honest mode of existence, was compulsorily 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 conduct, 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 planned 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 particular branch of the profession that each followed, 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 prevailed over considerations purely moral.
"If I speak," I said to myself, when I had business with a spy of this sort, "I shall convict a rogue, but if ​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 hostilities were not less lasting; I only allowed the enemy certain terms, and tacitly granted safeguards, safe-conducts, 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 method, and it was excellent; the proof is, that in less than seven years, I placed in the hands 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 attempt, which was nearly fatal to me. I can never forget M. Henry's remark on this occasion: "It is not doing well only, but you must also give proof that you have done well."
Two of the most daring rouletiers, named Gosnet and Doré, alarmed at my efforts to put a stop to their depredations, came to a resolution to devote their services 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 particularly 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. ​I believed them, and as I saw in them my future colleagues, I evinced a confidence almost boundless; we shall see how they deserved it.
For some months two or three particularly adroit rouletiers had arrived at Paris, where they did not sleep. Declarations poured in upon the prefecture; they committed 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, they were always armed to the teeth. The capture of such brigands must confer honour 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 nocturnal explorations together on the route which Mayer and the two Marquets generally frequented. We frequently 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' domicile something which gave me cause of disquiet. There was somewhat of constraint in their conduct towards me, and they might (I thought) be 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 knowledge.
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 ​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 person knew our retreat. One of my companions arose, I 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 chamber, did not stir. The knocking continued, and as a precautionary measure, I made haste to put on my drawers and waistcoat. Doré having done the same, returned to his post, but, whilst he was listening, his mistress gave me a look so expressive, that I had no difficulty in understanding it; I lifted up my mattress at the feet, and what did I see? a large bunch of skeleton 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!" 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 ​an inspector named Spiquette, belonging to the staff of the juge d'instruction, who instantly recognised me.
"Why do you follow me?"
"Oh, for nothing; it is M. Vigny, the juge d'instruction, who desires to see you, and speak to you."
"If that be all, I will put on my breeches and follow you."
"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 disappointment 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 importance, 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 Souricière, (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 ​at the prison gate. Although I bad 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 difficulty 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 mistress, and my own presence of mind, I should certainly have fallen once more under the jurisdiction of the argousins. With thieves' tools about me, I should have been overpowered by a fresh sentence, of which my situation 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 Gosnet and Doré prosecuted their plan a little more skilfully? 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 maturely considered the probable result, and before you risk any important step in future, come and consult 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, ​conceived a means of vengeance, which did not succeed. 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 pretended 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 fête of the emperor, or any other ceremony, 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 apprehending all individuals reputed robbers, it was who should be first to furnish the police with useful information. 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 battues, it was impossible to prevent a multitude of abuses: most iniquitous breaches of justice occurred, and frequently without chance of reparation. Unfortunate mechanics, who, at the expiration of a simple correctional punishment, returned to their trade, and endea​voured, by their good conduct, to efface 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 next day before the terrible Limodin, who compelled them to undergo an interrogatory. Such an interrogatory, gracious heaven!
"Your name, your residence? You have been under sentence before?"
"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 him.
"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 Bicêtre, 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 always. 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, ​since, once again, having returned to the right road, we are not allowed to pursue it."
I have heard a thousand complaints of this 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 Bicêtre, 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 robber, 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 infringements 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 number, 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 compelled to bear them company.
No idea can be formed of the number of individuals whom these detentions have driven into lapses from honesty, which they would have avoided if this abominable 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 ​for becoming thieves again. Some freed convicts (this is an exception) obtained, at the expiration of their sentence, leave not to be sent to Bicêtre 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 plundered, and most frequently plundered and denounced at the same time.
This rage for turning spy made incredible progress; the facts that prove it are so abundant, that I have no difficulty in selecting them. Frequently, in a scarcity 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 instances.
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 so exact, that I believed I had nothing to do but to perform my promise. But, on reflection on the various circumstances which she had narrated, I was somewhat astonished at the accuracy of her information. She had told me the persons robbed, one of whom was a Sieur Frederic, Rue St. Honore, passage Virginie; I went immediately 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 ​confessions, which led to a sentence of eight years' confinement. She had all the time to say "Meâ culpâ." This woman had accused two of her companions of her robberies, and their suspected conduct might have led to their convictions. Another female robber, called La Belle Bouchère, having made similar disclosures to me as Bailly had done, was not more fortunate.
One Ouasse, whose father was subsequently implicated in the affair of Poulain, the grocer, pointed out to me three individuals as the perpetrators of a robbery, committed at nightfall, in the Rue Saint Germain l'Auxerrois, at a tobacco-dealer's. I went to the spot to acquire information, and soon obtained incontestable proof that Ouasse, recently liberated, was no stranger to the crime; I dissembled with him; but in making use of him I managed so well, that he was apprehended as an accomplice, and sentenced to close confinement. This mishap should have checked his mania for denouncements; but anxious at all risks to turn spy, he made, to the attorney-general of Versailles, several lying informations, which cost him two or three years' imprisonment.
I have already observed that thieves nourish no rancour; and scarcely had Ouasse been liberated, than he came to me, and again gave me information concerning a robbery. I went to verify the information, and found it true. But will it be believed? Ouasse himself was the thief, who, apprehended and convicted, was again sentenced. During his detention, this wretched man, having learnt the arrest of his father, hastened to address to me information in support of the accusation against his parent. It was my duty to transmit it to the authorities; and I did so, but not without experiencing all the indignation which the conduct of so denaturalized a son could create.
In my situation, I should have deprived myself of a most efficacious system of police, had I come to open rupture with the thieves. I therefore did not entirely keep aloof from them; and sometimes, when in full cry ​after them, I appeared still to take an interest in their fate. Was I dog or wolf? 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 business I did, and yet they themselves aided me in transacting 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 remember, 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.) I was alone, and he was in .a large company. To attempt to seize him ex 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 specimen of my craft. On entering the cabaret, I went directly 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."
​"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?"
"Yes, yes, a little fat, short chap, who was in the second string, wasn't he?"
"Exactly so, at least so I think. Should you know him again?"
"As well as if I saw my own father. I think I see him now, on Bench No. 13, making straps for the covies' darbies."
"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 go, 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 instantly."
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?"
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 chaffing me. I see only you and myself in the glass; but the man, the arrested man, where is he?"
"You must know that there is no man arrested ​here but yourself. See the order for your apprehension."
"Ah! this is a villainous trick."
"Don't you know that the most crafty man is he who prospers best in this world?"
"The most crafty, certainly; but it will do you no good to trap honest fellows in this way."
When the path to reach a discovery of importance was full of difficulties, 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 perseverance which leads them to the end desired. They 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 understand well how to establish communications, and to chatter without being indiscreet. Apparently communicative, even when they are most reserved, they excel in exciting confidence. In fine, strength excepted, they have in the highest degree all the qualities which constitute 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 police faithfully. They had already given proofs of their skill in this way; but employed without salary, and compelled to plunder ​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 women; 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 imposture, and promised to accompany them to their rendezvous. I went accordingly, but as may be supposed, no Tominot appeared up to ten o'clock, when Sophie, pretending impatience, asked the waiter if a gentleman had not inquired for them.
"Him you breakfasted with?" 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, sometimes 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 contrary, 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 offer, and we went to the Petit Broc, in the Rue de la Verrerie. We drew for king and queen, ​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 gaiety by a few bumpers of 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 emptied in a twinkling. The flask being dried, I exclaimed, "Come, I have been a good boy to you—you must now do me a service."
"Both, my friend Jules," cried 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 work 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 if it 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 remained 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, said,—
​"All right, here you both are. Corporal, take four men with you, and conduct these ladies to the prefecture." 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."
These 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 Sophie, "not bad; we had not stolen though." Then addressing Lise, "It is your fault; why did you pretend to seek for a man who was already caught?"
"Did I know it? Ah, if I 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?'*
"Six months at least."
"Only that?" 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 remarkable 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 a third 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 ​two years' imprisonment. It was principally in furnished 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 sleeping, no matter how lightly, Sophie had a hand still lighter, and in no time watches, jewels, money, all found their way to her gibecière, (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.—What 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 baffle, so completely was she on her guard. But what I could not effect by my utmost ​efforts, to take her flagrante delicto, I owed to a circumstance 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 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. I 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 off towards the Pont-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 stained 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 ensconced 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 ​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 my life; but some minutes afterwards she came to the office 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 manœuvred 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, carrying a large washerwoman's basket, which seemed heavy. She walked, however, very fast, and soon reached the Rue Mathurins-Saint-Jacques, and then that of Mâçons Sorbonne. Unfortunately for Sophie, there is a passage which communicates with the Rue de la Harpe and the Rue des Mâçons, 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:—
"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——, but what do I hear?"
​Sophie and I stood thunderstruck 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?"
"Well, I am caught again. I shall remember this, and if ever I am asked why, I shall answer, oh nothing, a childish affair. Another time when I steal linen I will first look at it."
"And this umbrella, whose is it?"
"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 office was in the neighbourhood. The umbrella was kept as a convicting evidence. As to the child, whom she had unwittingly carried off, it was instantly returned to its mother. The thief had a sentence 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 surprised if she remains at Lazare for life. Sophie thought the trade she carried on a very natural one, and its repression, when unavoidable, she looked upon as an accident. Prison had no horrors for her, far from it; she was, in a manner, in her sphere. Sophie had contracted 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 frequent; it was not without 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​caped, 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.