Such was the result of an inquiry that scarcely occupied a month. It was so complete that the celebrated Lord Cockburn, who was at that time counsel for the Bank, declared “nothing could exceed Denovan’s skill, and that the investigation had the great merit of being amply sustained by evidence in all its important parts.” When the trial of the cause came on in February, and Denovan appeared in court with all the principal witnesses, Johnson, Cunnington, Scoltop, and Mrs. Mackoull, the defendant—it was only a civil suit—was unable to conceal his emotion, and fainted away. This was, practically, the throwing up of the sponge. Soon afterwards he was indicted for the robbery of the bank, and on conviction sentenced to death. He was greatly cast down at first, but soon recovered his spirits, and while awaiting execution received a number of visitors in the condemned cell. Among them was his wife, who provided him with the means of purchasing every luxury. She also applied for and obtained a reprieve for him. But though he might escape the gallows, he could not evade death. Within a couple of months of his sentence he fell into imbecility, his hitherto jet-black hair grew white, and his physical faculties failed him. Before the year was ended he had gone to his account.
VIDOCQ.
The first regular organisation of detective police may be said to have been created by Vidocq, the famous French thief, who, having turned his own coat, found his best assistants in other converted criminals. Vidocq’s personal reminiscences have been read all the world over, and need hardly be recounted here. It was at the end of a long career of crime, of warfare with justice, in which he had been perpetually worsted, that he elected to go over to the other side. He would cease to be the hare, and would, if permitted, in future hunt with the hounds. So he offered his services to the authorities, who at first bluntly refused them. M. Henri, the functionary at the head of the criminal department of the Prefecture, sent him about his business without even asking his name.
This was in 1809, during the ministry of Fouché. Vidocq, rebuffed, joined a band of coiners, who betrayed him to the police, and he was arrested, nearly naked, on the roof as he was trying to escape. He was taken before M. Henri, whom he reminded of his application and renewed his offers, which were now accepted, but coldly and distrustfully. The only condition he had made was that he should not be relegated to the galleys, but held in any
Parisian prison the authorities might choose. So he was committed to La Force, and the entry appears on the registry of that prison that he was nominally sentenced to eight years in chains; it was part of his compact that he should associate freely with other prisoners and secretly inform the police of all that was going on. He betrayed a number of his unsuspecting companions, and seems to have been very proud of his treacherous achievements. No prisoner had the slightest suspicion that he was a police spy, nor had any of the officials, except the gate-keeper. In this way he earned the gratitude of the authorities, who thought he might be more useful at large. In order to give a plausible explanation of his release, it was arranged that he should be sent from the prison of La Force to Bicêtre and permitted to escape by the way. Vidocq has given his own account of his escape: “I was fetched from La Force and taken off with the most rigorous precaution, handcuffed, and lodged in the prison van; but I was let out on the road.” The report of this daring escape, as it was supposed, was the talk of all Paris, and the cause of great rejoicing in criminal circles, where Vidocq’s health was drunk with many wishes for his continued good fortune.
Vidocq made excellent use of his freedom. He entered freely into all the low haunts of the city, and was received with absolute confidence by every miscreant abroad. Through him, although he kept carefully in the background, innumerable arrests were made; one of the most important was that of the head of a gang of robbers named Guenvive, whose acquaintance he made at a cabaret, where they exchanged some curious confidences. Guenvive was very anxious to put him on his guard against “that villain Vidocq,” who had turned traitor to his old friends. But Guenvive assured Vidocq that he knew him intimately and there was nothing to be feared while he was by. Together they went to attack Vidocq, each carrying handkerchiefs loaded with two-sous pieces, and watched for him at his front door. For obvious reasons Vidocq did not come out, but his ready concurrence in the scheme made him Guenvive’s most intimate friend. The robber was willing to enrol Vidocq in his band, and proposed that he should join in a grand affair in the Rue Cassette. Vidocq agreed, but took no part in the actual robbery on the pretence that he could not safely be out in the streets, as he had no papers. When the party, having successfully accomplished their coup, carried their plunder home to Guenvive’s quarters, they were surprised by a visit of the police, during which Vidocq, who was present, concealed himself under the bed. The end of this business was the conviction of the robbers and their condemnation to travaux forcés, but they appear to have succeeded in discovering how and by whom they had been betrayed.
Vidocq brought about another important arrest in the person of Fossard, a notorious criminal, who was to become yet more famous by his celebrated theft of medals from the Bibliothèque Royale. Fossard was a man of athletic proportions and desperately brave; he had escaped from the Bagne of Brest and was supposed to be prepared to go any lengths rather than return there; he was always armed to the teeth, and swore he would blow out the brains of anyone who attempted to take him. He lived somewhere near the Rue Poissonnière; the neighbourhood was known, but not the house or the floor; the windows were said to have yellow silk blinds, but many other windows had the same; another indication was that Fossard’s servant was a little humpbacked woman, who also worked as a milliner. Vidocq found the hunchback, but not her master, who had moved into another residence over a wineshop at the corner of the Rue Duphot and the Rue St. Honoré. He at once assumed the disguise of a charcoal-seller, and verified the lodging, but waited for an opportunity to take the criminal. Although he was armed and no coward, he realised that the only safe way to secure Fossard would be in his bed.
