"Posted near the house of the suspected dealer in stolen property, I watched for his going out; and, following him when he had gone a few steps down the street, addressed him by a different name to his own. He assured me I was mistaken; I protested to the contrary; he insisted upon it I was deceived; and I affected to be equally satisfied of his identity, declaring my perfect recognition of his person, as that of a man who, for some time, had been sought after by the police throughout Paris and its environs. 'You are grossly mistaken,' replied he warmly; 'my name is so and so, and I live in such a street.' 'Come, come, friend,' said I, 'excuses are useless; I know you too well to part with you so easily.' 'This is too much,' cried he, 'but, at the next police station, I shall probably be able to meet with those who can convince you, that I know my own name better than you seem to do.' This was exactly the point at which I wished to arrive. 'Agreed,' said I, and we bent our steps to the neighbouring guard-house. We entered, and I requested him to show me his papers; he had none about him. I then insisted upon his being searched, and, on his person, were found three watches, and twenty-five double Napoleons, which I caused to be laid aside till he should be examined before a magistrate. These things had been wrapped in a handkerchief, which I contrived to secure, and, after having disguised myself as a messenger, I hastened to the house of this receiver of stolen goods, and demanded to speak with his wife. She, of course, had no idea of my business, or knowledge of my person, and seeing several persons besides herself present, I signified to her, that my business being of a private nature, it was important that I should speak to her alone; and in token of my claims to her confidence, produced the handkerchief, and inquired whether she recognised it? Although still ignorant of the cause of my visit, her countenance became troubled, and her whole person was much agitated, as she begged me to let her hear my business. 'I am concerned,' replied I, 'to be the bearer of unpleasant news; but the fact is, your husband has just been arrested, every thing found on his person has been seized, and, from some words which he happened to overhear, he suspects he has been betrayed; he therefore wishes you to remove out of the house certain things, you are aware would be dangerous to his safety if found on the premises. If you please, I will lend you a helping hand, but I must forewarn you that you have not one moment to lose.' The information was of the first importance. The sight of the handkerchief, and the description of the objects it had served to envelope, removed from her mind every doubt as to the truth of the message I had brought her; and she easily fell into the snare I had laid to entrap her. She thanked me for the trouble I had taken, and begged I would go and engage three hackney coaches, and return to her with as little delay as possible. I left the house to execute my commission, but on the road, I stopped to give one of my people instructions to keep the coaches in sight, and to seize them, with their contents, directly I should give the signal. The vehicles drew up to the door, and, upon re-entering the house, I found things in a high state of preparation for removing. The floor was strewed with articles of every description; time-pieces, candelabra, Etruscan vases, cloths, cachemires, linen, muslin, &c. All these things had been taken from a closet, the entrance to which was cleverly concealed by a large press, so skilfully contrived, that the most practised eye could not have discovered the deception. I assisted in the removal, and, when it was completed, the press having been carefully replaced, the woman begged of me to accompany her, which I did; and no sooner was she in one of the coaches, ready to start, than I suddenly pulled up the window, and, at this previously concerted signal, we were immediately surrounded by the police. The husband and wife were tried at the assizes, and, as may be easily conceived, were overwhelmed beneath the weight of an accusation, in support of which there existed a formidable mass of convicting testimony."
We must extract one more account from Vidocq, to show the desperate hazards which police-officers sometimes run, in capturing criminals; hazards which, when surmounted, they naturally exult in. Information had been received at the police-office, that one Fossard, who had several times effected escapes from jail, was living with his mistress in a certain district of Paris; that the windows of his apartment had yellow curtains; and that a hump-backed seamstress lived in the same house. This was very indefinite; for neither the street, nor the number of the house was known, and curtains might be changed. However, Vidocq was not deterred from undertaking a search; accordingly, disguised as an old-fashioned gentleman, he began the enterprise. He went from street to street; ascended staircase after staircase till his limbs ached; called at the doors of scores of seamstresses, but no hump-backed damsel appeared;—all were as straight as arrows! Not more ardently, he says, did Don Quixote pant for Dulcinea, than he for Humpina. Days rolled on unsuccessfully: he began to despair. At length he resolved to change his measures, and, instead of clambering up flights of steps, to station himself near the stand of a gossiping milk-woman, and watch her customers. Numbers of women came to buy their milk in the morning, but not one adorned with the delectable hump. At length, in the evening, he caught sight of one whose back had the desired ornament. He followed her from the milk-woman's to the grocer's, from the grocer's to the tripe-shop, and, finally, to her home; but when he got there, no yellow curtains were to be seen. What was to be done? He resolved to speak to her at all events; so, feigning himself to be a deserted husband, he inquired of her whether Fossard and his mistress were occupants of any part of the house? Her reply was disheartening:—they had quitted their lodgings, and were gone, she knew not where. Still, the case did not appear hopeless. He had employed a porter to carry his goods, and might not that porter be found? A new search was requisite, and it terminated successfully, by his tracing Fossard to a vintner's. Considering, then, that it was advisable to have the vintner on his side, he called on him in his usual dress, and informed him, from the police, that his lodgers meditated robbing him. He and his wife were in consternation at the intelligence; but Vidocq having pacified them, arranged his plans. The grand difficulty to be overcome, arose from Fossard's always carrying a loaded pistol in his hand, and which, they knew from his character, he would assuredly discharge at the first man that laid hands on him. Here Vidocq must tell his own tale, we premising, that Fossard's mistress styled herself Madame Hazard.—
"At an early hour, on the 29th of December, I betook myself to my station. It was desperately cold; the watch was a protracted one, and the more painful as we had no fire. Motionless, however, and my eyes fixed against a small hole in the shutter, I kept my post. At last, about three o'clock, he went out. I followed gladly, and recognised him; for, up to that period, I had my doubts. Certain now of his identity, I wished, at that moment, to put into execution the order for his apprehension; but the officer who was with me, said he saw the terrible pistol. That I might authenticate the fact, I walked quickly and passed Fossard, and then returning, saw clearly that the agent was right. To attempt to arrest him would have been useless, and I resolved to defer it. On the 31st of December, at eleven o'clock, when all my batteries were charged and my plans perfect, Fossard returned, and, without distrust, ascended the staircase shaking with cold; and, twenty minutes after, the disappearance of the light indicated that he was in bed. The moment had now arrived. The commissary and gend'armes, summoned by me, were waiting at the nearest guard-house until I should call them, and then enter quietly. We deliberated on the most effectual mode of seizing Fossard, without running the risk of being killed or wounded; for they were persuaded, that, unless surprised, this robber would defend himself desperately. My first thought was, to do nothing till daybreak, as I had been told that Fossard's companion went down very early to get the milk; we should then seize her, and, after having taken the key from her, we should enter the room of her lover; but might it not happen that, contrary to his usual custom, he might go out first? This reflection led me to adopt another expedient. The vintner's wife, in whose favour, as I was told, M. Hazard was much prepossessed, had one of her nephews at her house, a lad about ten years of age, intelligent beyond his years, and the more desirous of getting money, as he was a Norman. I promised him a reward, on condition that, under pretence of his aunt's being taken suddenly ill, he should go and beg Madame Hazard to give him some Eau de Cologne. I desired the little chap to assume the most piteous tone he could; and was so well satisfied with the specimen he gave me, that I began to distribute the parts to my performers. The dénouement was near at hand. I made all my party take off their shoes, doing the same myself, that we might not be heard whilst going up stairs. The little snivelling pilot was in his shirt; he rang the bell;—no one answered: again he rang;—'Who's there,' was heard.—'It is I Madame Hazard; it is Louis: my poor aunt is very bad, and begs you will be so very obliging as to give her a little Eau de Cologne.—Oh! she is dying!—I have got a light.' The door was opened; and scarcely had Madame Hazard presented herself, when two powerful gend'armes seized on her, and fastened a napkin over her mouth to prevent her crying out. At the same instant, with more rapidity than the lion when darting on his prey, I threw myself upon Fossard; who, stupified by what was doing, and already fast bound and confined in his bed, was my prisoner before he could make a single movement, or utter a single word. So great was his amazement, that it was nearly an hour before he could articulate even a few words. When a light was brought, and he saw my black face and garb of a coalman, he experienced such an increase of terror, that I really believe he imagined himself in the devil's clutches. On coming to himself, he thought of his arms,—his pistols and dagger,—which were upon the table; and, turning his eyes towards them, he made a struggle, but that was all; for, reduced to the impossibility of doing any mischief, he was passive."
From the above extracts, a tolerably correct idea may be formed of thieves and police-officers;—men who co-exist in every civilized community, but who lead lives requiring the cunning and personal bravery of savages. The thief exults in the success of a daring exploit, and prides himself on his skill in avoiding the meshes of magistrates and lawyers: the police-officer is no less vain of his skill, in detecting and dragging to justice the man who boasts of his superiority in artifice, while he almost defies the arm of vengeance. In order that the number of such characters may be reduced, all reasonable attempts should be made to reclaim juvenile delinquents; prisons should be not only places of terror, but places where the spread of corruption is effectually prevented, by the prohibition of intercourse amongst the inmates; and, above all, education, founded on a moral and religious basis, should be extended throughout society. Facts bear us out in asserting, that crimes of the greatest magnitude, such as murder, burglary, and arson, considerably diminish with the spread of civilization, which operates, like the circle formed by the pebble thrown into water, in extending its influence in proportion to its circumference. As philanthropists in many different countries are labouring simultaneously to promote this great end, we are justified in considering the present age as the harbinger of a better; and we may rejoice in the anticipation. The progressive improvement of the human family is a delightful subject for meditation, giving us, perhaps, a prelibation of the joys of futurity, and animating us to contribute our aid, trifling as it may be, to the melioration of the condition of our country.
Before closing this article, we can scarcely forbear remarking, that the translator of Vidocq has used various words which have been considered by English writers as Americanisms; such as to progress, to approbate, and lengthy; also chicken-fighting for cock-fighting. Whether he is an American or an Englishman we know not; but certain we are, that nearly every one of the alleged peculiarities in language, adopted by Americans, may be found either in old English authors, or are known to have been used in one or other of the provincial brogues of England. Captain Basil Hall notices the substitution of fall for Autumn; but he might have known, that though nearly obsolete in England, it is still current in the west of England amongst the vulgar.[15] Even the much laughed at I guess, is in vogue in Lancashire; so that with the exception of to tote for to carry, which, as Dr. Webster remarks, was introduced by the negroes into the southern states, we do not know whether a single word or expression supposed to be peculiar to the United States, may be found, which cannot be traced to Great Britain or Ireland. In the volume on Insect Architecture, issued by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, we notice the word sparse, which, till then, we had supposed to be of American formation; and a late writer in Blackwood's Magazine says, that the New-England word tarnation, is current in the county of Suffolk in old England. The probability of its being introduced into Massachusetts from that part of England, is confirmed by the great number of towns in Massachusetts bearing the same names as towns in the counties of Suffolk and Essex, and by the correspondence remarked by travellers between the dialects of the two districts. Every one may have observed, that the New-Englanders,—many even of the educated amongst them,—pronounce the participle been, as if written ben; and this peculiarity, we are assured, is prevalent in the part of England just mentioned.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] See the second series of Tales of a Grandfather.
[13] Since the above was written, we have met with an old schoolfellow of Vaux's, and who also knew him in after life; and from him we have learnt that Vaux's Memoirs have strong claim to credence, from the circumstance that the account of his early life appears to be correctly given, as also that part of his subsequent career which is known to our informant. He added, that his manners were quite fascinating.
[14] As many of our readers may not recollect it, we here insert it. Cibber, it should be borne in mind, was poet-laureate.
"In merry old England, it once was a rule,
That the king had his poet, and also his fool;
But the times are so altered, I'd have you to know it,
That Cibber will serve both for fool and for poet!"