Evening star., 1901-02-16
Slum Districts of Paris as Seen at
Their Worst,
Vice AND POVERTY side BY Side
Bands of Youthful Thugs Organ
lied on Dime Novel Lines.
LOW DRINK1NG DIVE S
Special Correspondence of The Evening Star.


ana IN its worst aspects. The helpless poor
and the criminal classes are herded to.
gether In filthy lanes and squalid courts
| fouler and more dangerous than the worst
| tenements of New York or Chicago These
| are the "bas-fonds," the terrible and dreary
places where brutalizing poverty reigns
where crime broods and breeds 1t is in the
picturesque relies of Old Paris. the Paris
of the days when the second empire had
not vet reformed the main lines of the city
| that such spots are found. An old arch
| way, richly sculptured, which artists love
to paint will lead you, If you venture
| through 1t, to a confused network Of wind
| Ing 'ruelles," where the crooked hellying
! housetops lean across the Slender cobble-
| stone path in the most bewildering dis
order. 1t is all very mediaeval, stepped in
quaint Od-world charm But II is none
the. less the fetid lurking place of the mis-
| erably poor and deSperadoes who drink
away the day in the dirty cabarets that oc-
| cupy the ground floor of every second
| mousse, and whose work is all done at night
| with knife in hand. There are in Paris
many such charming spots, whose popula-
tion Is more than half criminal. where the
very children have the air of having been
marked for crime from their cradles
In the populous Faubourg ST. Antoine,
IN the cluster of dingy courts and i'm
pc9Seo near lHe fOrte SAINT Denis, among
the side streets Of Batignolles, there are
Whole colonies whose population is divided
by the imperceptible but hard and fast
line which marks off the enemies of So
ciety from its victims. In the same house
there will be on one story families of de-
cent. hard-driven workers, while on the
stories above and below crime may be
Matching night and day. The poor get en-
tirely callous to the character of the shady
persons they brush against on the dirty
dark staircases all day long.
Crime as a Profession.
"They SEEM" said police inspector of
the Quarter st. Antoine the other day,
they seem to look upon crime as a trade
like their own, but a trade for which they
do not feel any inclination. A little boy
committed suicide the other day because
his parents apprenticed him to a sausage
maker He hadn't any scruples against
the pursuit; 1t was just that he didn't like
1t. That seems to be the way these mser-
able, poverty-stricken wretches in the Grim
inal quarter feel about crime as a profess
sion. They would end their days rather
than adopt 1t, just because they don't like
it; though perhaps they wish they didT'
1t is a curious fact that the criminal
class, on their side of the wall are gen.
orally well disposed toward their honest
neighbors though a little inclined to treat
them with good-humored contempt. There
can be no intimacy between thieves and
consider themselves the aristocracy of the
quarter. But there is an attitude of re-
served good feeling as a rule. This, in
fact is one of the greatest msfortunes the
poor have to endure, for 1T inevitably means
the perversion of a certain proportion of
their children, who are Initiated into the
ways Of dishonesty and violence from an
early age and form with their young pro-
fessors those bands Of juvenile criminals
that have lately become one of the most
alarming features Of Paris life. These
companies of youthful ruffians, of whom
the oldest is often only fifteen or sixteen,
consist generally of some ten or a dozen
precocious desperadoes. They assume fan
tastic names culled from the Juvenile libra
ries at cents volume.
Bands of Youthful Criminals.
Some bands that have been broken up of
late have proudly declared themselves the
"Terrors of Montparnasse," the "Brigands
Of the Batignolles," the "Apaches of st.
Antoine" the Red Skins Of the Fortiffca-
tions." For, by way of parenthesis, Feni-
more Cooper's Indian stories are much
read here in translation. imagining them
selves Partisan reincarnations of the braves
of pioneer days in America. the infantile
ruffians become the scourge of the desolate
quarters of the city holding up belated
pedestrians on the distant or eccentric
boulevards close by the city limits, or even
descending after midnight to the boulevards
of Batignolles and to the dark side streets
near the quays
Burglaries, organized and executed
tirely by boys in their teens. have also
been alarmingly frequent within the past
year or so, and the problem of the increase
Of juvenile crime Is one OF the most dls-
uuieting questions that the authorities have
to consider 1t has it's roots in the terrible
poverty hidden away in the obscure corners
of this city of wealth and pleasure.
Even as l write three young scoundrels
are on their trial for the dastardly murder
of an old woman who kept miserable
wine shop, the resort of thieves and bad
characters generally. in one of the cut
throat side streets in the northeastern end
of the city. The police evidence shows that
the sassins belonged to a regularly or
ganized band, working In almost military
discipline and subordination under the cap
taincy of one Levy, called Milo, who Is
now on trial as the actual dealer of the
murderous blow in the case mentioned. He
was the supreme boss of the gang, and
laid his plans with the minutest attention
to detail. assigning to each crime contem-
plated the number of hands he judged
necessary and arranging where each man
was to stand, what he was to do, and how
he was to make his exit when the work
was done. Most of his merry men We're
very young-from sixteen to twenty-five.
His trial is exciting the liveliest interest in
the city, from the new light it throws on
the extraordinary organization and method
which prevails in the criminal gangs of
Paris.
Human Wrecks.
In the neghborhood of Halles, famous
for its markets. Of which M. Zola has
written so forcibly, one can see in the night
time the most pitiable collection of human
wrecks that it is possible to conceive. There
degraded creatures flock down in hundreds
from every slum district in the city, hoping
to get job at unloading the great wagons
full of vegetables that come in from the
country to supply the city's dinner tables.
And if luck does not throw that chance
their way, there is always the hope of
eluding the vigilance of the police and iay-
ing hands on bundle of carrots or other
food from the stacks several feet high tina:
block the streets all around the market.
AS day begins to draw near the wretched
prowlers shuttle away to the low, all-n1ght
cafes of the quarter to spend a sou or two
on drink which by long custom gives the
right to remain on the premises till in
the morning.
These cafes, which are often in cellars,
are not counted as night lodging houses.
and may, therefore, harbor just as many
beings can squeeze an entrance. In the
winter there will sometimes be In one foul
subterranean den as many as eighty miser-
able, ill-clad, dirty people, men and women
and children huddled together on the floor.
He is counted happy who can rest his head
against the wall out of reach of later COM
ers and so get a surer sleep. At 8 o'clock
firth &c oil ok o,,tt 10