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