However superior too our rogues may be in boldness, I apprehend that,
in dexterity, they are far inferior to those to be met with among our
neighbours. To elude a more vigilant inspection, the latter are
compelled to exert more art and cunning. In this dissipated capital,
which is a grand theatre where they can display all their talent, and
find a greater number of dupes, adventurers and swindlers of every
description have long been famous; but it should seem that the
females here of that stamp deserve to be no less celebrated.
Not many years ago, I heard of an English lady of quality being
detected in the very act of secreting a quantity of valuable lace, to
which she had taken a particular fancy at a great haberdasher's in
Pall-Mall. It was said that she endeavoured to exculpate herself for
this inadvertency on the ground of being in a pregnant state, which
had produced an irrisistible longing. However this may be, she might
here have got a lesson, as will appear from the following instance of
ingenuity very lately practised by one of her own sex.
In the _ci-devant Palais Royal_, a haberdasher of note keeps a shop
where the highest-priced articles of female wear are exhibited,
immediately on coming from the hands of the manufacturer or inventor.
The other day, a lady somewhat turned of thirty, of genteel
appearance and engaging address, entered this shop, and asked to see
some white lace veils. Several were shewn to her at the price of from
twenty-five to fifty louis each. These not being sufficiently rich to
please her taste, others more costly were produced, and she fixed on
one of eighty louis in value. Standing before a glass, she
immediately put on this veil _à la réligieuse_, that is, in the form
of the hood of a nun's dress. Then taking from her bosom her little
purse, she found it to contain no more than twenty louis in
bankpaper, which she paid to the haberdasher as a deposit for the
veil, at the same time desiring him to send one of his men with her
to her _homme d'affaires_ or agent, in order that he might bring back
the other sixty.
As a Parisian tradesman is always extremely glad to get rid of his
goods, she had no difficulty in carrying her point; and, having
selected from among the shopmen a shamefaced youth of eighteen, took
him with her in the hackney-coach which she had kept in waiting. She
gave the coachman her orders, and away he drove to a famous
apothecary's, in the _Rue St. Honoré_. "This," said she to the
shopman, "is the residence of my _homme d'affaires_: follow me, and
you shall have your money." She accordingly alighted, and, after
saying a few words in the ear of the doctor, on whose credulity she
had already exercised her genius, desired him to take the young man
to his private room, and settle the business, while she remained to
chat with his wife.
The unsuspecting youth, seeing the lady on such terms of intimacy in
the family, made no hesitation to follow the doctor to a
back-parlour, where, to his extreme surprise, he was closely
questioned as to his present state of health, and the rise and
progress of the disorder which he had caught through his own
imprudence. The more he denied the circumstance, the more the
doctor persisted in his endeavours to procure ocular demonstration.
The latter had previously locked the door, having been apprized by
the lady that her son was exceedingly bashful, and that stratagem,
and even a certain degree of violence, perhaps, must be employed
to obtain evidence of a complaint, which, as it injured her
_dear boy's_ constitution, disturbed her own happiness and peace
of mind. The doctor was proceeding to act on this information,
when the young shopman, finding his retreat cut off, vociferously
demanded the sixty louis which he was come to receive in payment
for the veil. "Sixty louis in payment for a veil!" re-echoed the
doctor. "Your mother begged me to examine you for a complaint which
you have inconsiderately contracted in the pursuit of pleasure." The
_dénouement_ now taking place, the two dupes hastened back to the
shop, when they found that the lady had decamped, having previously
discharged the coach, in order that she might not be traced by the
number.
The art of purloining a watch, a snuff-box, or a purse, unperceived
by the owner, may, no doubt, be acquired by constant practice, till
the novice becomes expert in his profession: but the admirable
presence of mind displayed by Parisian sharpers must, in a great
measure, be inherited from nature. What can well surpass an example
of this kind mentioned by a celebrated French writer?
A certain person who had been to receive a sum of money at a
banker's, was returning home with it in a hired carriage. The
coachman, not remembering the name of the street whither he had been
ordered to drive, got off his box, and opened the coach-door to ask
it. He found the person dead and cold. At his first exclamation,
several people collected. A sharper who was passing by, suddenly
forced his way through the crowd, and, in a lamentable and pathetic
voice, called out: "'Tis my father! What a miserable wretch am I!"
Then, exhibiting every mark of the most poignant grief, he got into
the coach, and, crying and sobbing, kissed the dead man's face. The
bystanders were affected, and dispersed, saying, one to another,
"What an affectionate son!" The sharper drove on in the coach, where
he found the bags of money, which were an unexpected booty, and,
stopping it at a door, told the coachman that he wished to apprize
his sister of the melancholy accident that had just happened. He
alighted, and shut the coach-door, leaving the corpse as naked as it
came into the world. The coachman, having waited a long time,
inquired in vain at the house for the young man and his sister; no
one had any knowledge of her, him, or the deceased.
I remember when I was last in Paris, at the beginning of the
revolution, being shewn a silversmith's shop, whence a few articles
having been stolen, the master was induced to examine in what manner
the thieves gained admittance. Discovering an aperture where he
conjectured that a man's hand might be introduced, he prepared a
noose with a proper cord, and remained in waiting the following night
to see if they would repeat their visit. At a late hour, when all was
quiet, he perceived a man's hand thrust through the aperture;
instantly he drew tight the noose, and thought he had effectually
secured the culprit; but he was mistaken. The fellow's accomplices,
fearing that the apprehension of one of them would lead to the
discovery of all, on finding it impossible to extricate him by any
other means, cut off his wrist. When the patrole arrived at the spot,
on the call of the silversmith, he was not a little astonished to
find that his prisoner had escaped, though with the loss of a hand,
which remained fast in the noose.
With respect to these more daring classes of rogues, every year
almost produces some new race of them. Since the revolution, the
criminal code having condemned to death none but those guilty of
murder, housebreakers, to avoid the penalty of the law, had recourse
to a practice, which put the persons whom they subjected to it to the
most severe pain. This was to hold their feet to the fire till they
declared where all their moveable property was to be found. Hence
these villains obtained the name of _chauffeurs_. Notwithstanding the
vigilance of the Police, they still occasionally exercise their
cruelties in some of the departments, as may be seen by the
proceedings of the criminal tribunals. I have also heard of another
species of assassins, who trained blood-hounds to seize a man by the
throat in certain solitary places, and then came afterwards, and
plundered him at their ease. When apprehended, they coolly said: "We
did not kill the man, but found him dead."
As in former times, all sentences passed on criminals, tried in
Paris, whether condemned to die or not, are put into execution on the