Memoirs of Vidocq, Volume III/Chapter 43
The noise of our arrival was quickly spread abroad, and the inhabitants flocked to have a view of the assassins of the butcher, whose story had excited so much commiseration. I was equally an object of curiosity to them, and was pleased with the present opportunity of learning the opinion entertained of me at the distance of six leagues from Paris. I hastened to mingle in the crowd assembled before the prison gates, from whence I could easily overhear the most amusing observations: "There he is, that is he," exclaimed the spectators, raising themselves on tip toe every time the wicket opened to allow ingress or egress to any of my agents.
"Look look, do you see him?" said one of them, "that little hop o' my thumb there, scarcely five feet high."
"Stuff! a shrimp like that! I could put fifty such in my pocket."
"Shrimp as you call him, he is more than a match for you; he is a first-rate boxer, and has a sort of a back throw that would astonish you."
"All fudge, I dare say; do you suppose he is the only one that knows a good thing?"
"No no!" bawled out a second spectator, "this is he, this tall slender fellow with the red hair."
"What a lath!" cried out the next bystander, "why with one hand in my pocket I could double him in two."
"You could?"
"Yes, I could!"
"And do you fancy that he would allow you to lay your fingers upon him? No, no! you have mistaken your man;—he comes sometimes as if meaning to speak amicably to one, and just the moment you least expect it comes a dig in the bread basket, or, as he may happen to prefer, a pelt of the conk, which will make you see fifty candles at once."
"The gentleman who spoke last is perfectly right," said an old citizen, eyeing me through his spectacles; "this Vidocq is a most extraordinary character; I have been told that when he wishes to seize a man, he has a certain blow, which once aimed never fails to deprive the person against whom it is directed of all power of resistance."
"And I have been told," said a carman, joining in the conversation, "that he never goes without large clouts in the soles of his shoes, and whilst he is giving you a punch of the head, he breaks your shins with a kick a thousand times heavier than any horse."
"Mind where you are walking, you great clod-hopper," exclaimed a young girl, whose corns the clumsy carman had been most unceremoniously stamping on.
"Just a little treat for you, my pretty one," replied the rustic; "Never mind trifles like that, you are not quite killed. I dare say if Vidocq were to give you a gentle taste of the heel of his boot upon your favourite toe you might indeed call out."
"Indeed, I should like to see him dare to do so."
"Ah! he would spoil your dancing, I can promise you—but who is that coming from the prison? look."
At this instant I addressed the carman. "I hope," said I, "that the sparkling eyes of my pretty neighbour here would ensure her safety from Vidocq, wicked as he may be."
"Yes, yes!" rejoined the carman, "I believe he is vastly civil to the women. I have been told that he is a merry fellow enough with them, and bears an excellent reputation. Although many a pretty girl has lost hers through the honour of his good company." These words were accompanied by a loud horse-laugh, in which the rest of the company joined.
"What is the matter there?" cried some who were not sufficiently nigh the scene of action to understand the cause of the burst of voices which assailed their ears.
"Hats off."
"Do you observe that man in the wig?"
"Are those the murderers?"
"There he is, there he is!"
"Who? who?"
"Do not crowd so dreadfully."
"Take your hands off, you blackguard."
"Knock him down! down with him!"
"How wrong of females to risk their lives by coming to a scene like this."
"Here, climb up on my shoulder."
"Down there, you are not made of glass."
"Are they all mad to make such a noise?"
"Oh, it is nobody after all, only a guardsman!"
"Are any of the spies amongst them?"
"Spies? Yes, four I have been told."
By the time these different exclamations were ended, the flux and reflux of the multitude had borne me away to the midst of a fresh group, where a dozen gossips were busily conversing of me in the following manner:—
First gossip. (This speaker appeared, by his silvery locks, of venerable age.) "Yes, sir, he was condemned to the galleys for a hundred and one years—commuted from sentence of death."
Second gossip. "A hundred and one years! bless me, why that is more than an age!"
An old woman. "The lord be good unto me, what is that you favoured me by saying? A hundred and one years! indeed, as the other gentleman observed, that is rather more than a day!"
Third gossip. "No, no; something more than at day indeed; upon my credit, a tolerably long lease of it."
Fourth gossip. "And so he had committed murder, had he?"
Fifth gossip. "Why did not you know that? bless you, he is a villain loaded with every sort of crime, he has been guilty of every enormity by turns, each of which has merited the guillotine; but be is a deep rascal, and has managed to keep his head on his shoulders to the surprise of every one."
Another gossip. (In what order his speech was made I do not now remember, I recollect only that he was dressed in black, and from the style of his dress and hair I concluded him to be one of the churchwardens of the parish).
The fleur de lis. "No, better still! I am informed by my friend the commissary, that this Vidocq always accustoms himself to wear a ring round his leg—is it not strange?"
Myself. "Come, do not seek to gammon us with your stories of rings, do you suppose we could not perceive it, if it were worn as you say."
The gossip in black. (Gravely.) "No, sir, you could not see it; in the first place, you are not to imagine it an iron ring of four or five pounds weight. No, it is a golden ring, as light as possible, and nearly imperceptible. Ah! indeed, if like me he wore short knee breeches, you would soon discover it, but those trowsers bide every thing.—Trowsers indeed! an absurd fashion. We may thank the revolution for that introduction as well as for cropped heads, hair à la Titus as they term it, which no longer leave it possible to discover a gentleman from one who has tugged at the galleys. I only ask you, gentlemen, whether if this Vidocq were to introduce himself amongst you, you would feel particularly flattered by his company?"
"Pray," asked the old woman who had before spoken, "is it true that he was publicly branded?"
"Certainly, madam; that too with a red hot iron on both shoulders. I will answer for it that if he were stripped, you would read the mark in all its brightness. I ask you once more, my friends, what would you say were this fellow to presume to show himself here?"
A Chevalier of Saint Louis. "I can't say I should particularly desire the honour of his company; what think you, M. de la Potonière?"
M. de la Potonière. "Upon the word of a gentleman, my only wish would be to rid myself of it as soon as possible. A galley-slave, and, what is still worse, a spy of the police! If he only employed himself in arresting villains similar to those he has brought to our town to-day, he would be earning honourable bread; but do you know on what condition he was removed from the Bagne? To obtain his liberty he has engaged to deliver up to justice a hundred individuals a month; whether guilty or innocent matters little to him; the number must be made up, or he would speedily be reconducted from whence he came. On the other hand, should he exceed his engagement, he receives a premium for each one above the required quantity. Is this the way these things are managed in England, Sir Wilson?"
Sir Wilson.[1] "No, the British government has not yet adopted a similar commutation of punishment. I do not know this M. Vidocq; but in my opinion, however great a villain he may be, he is still preferable to those who merely suspend the sword of justice over his head, that it may fall with redoubled violence directly he finds it impossible to fulfil his disgraceful bargain. O'Meara, who is no greater friend than myself to our ministry, will attest that it has not yet reached this point of degradation. You are silent, doctor; why don't you speak?"
Doctor O'Meara. "They would only have had to select from amongst the heroes of Tyburn and Botany Bay fit agents to undertake to preserve London in safety; but when a thief is set to catch a thief, who can answer for it that they may not join trades? and then what becomes of your system?"
The Chevalier St. Louis. "A very just observation. It is, indeed, an inconceivable thing why the police have never employed any but men of blemished character. Surely a sufficient number of honest ones might be found!"
Myself. "Perhaps you, sir, would not object to fill the post now occupied by Vidocq!"
The Chevalier. "I, sir! God preserve me from such an employment."
Myself. "Then, my good sir, why propose impossibilities?"
Sir Wilson. "And impossibilities they will remain, till the police of France, which is now nothing but a gloomy institution, a series of continual devices and plots, shall have ceased to encourage spies, and shall have adopted other means than those at present employed to preserve public order and general safety."
An English Lady (surrounded by a host of half-pay officers, who appeared most anxious to pay their court to her, and who, I believe, was Lady Owenson.[2]) "Ah, general, you know few people understand these things as well as you do."
One of the Officers. "See! yonder is General Beaufort, with the Picard family!"
Lady Owenson. "Good day to you, general. I beg to condole with you upon the affair of your snuff-box, of which I have just heard the history. We have an old proverb in our language which signifies, 'That it is wiser to keep ourselves awake over our cups, than to expose oneself to a long nap in the nearest ditch!'"
The General (with bitterness.) "That proverb might have been taught with profit to the unfortunate butcher every person seems talking so much about."
Lady Owenson. "And not have come amiss to you either, general; but, joking apart, why do you not apply to Vidocq to recover your snuff-box for you?"
The General. "To Vidocq! a thief! a scamp! a beggarly scoundrel! If I only fancied I had ever breathed the same air with him, I should hang myself the moment I discovered it. Me apply to Vidocq!"
Captain Picard. "And why not, if he could procure the restitution of your lost property?"
The General (with a tone of assumed consequence.) "That is exactly like your advice. You!—but really, friend Picard, you have a monstrously odd way of beating about the bush."
Captain Picard. "General, I am at a loss to comprehend your meaning."
The General. "Why, I mean that you have such a roundabout way of going to work, 'tis like your telling a story. There is no getting you to proceed in a straight line. Now in that account you have begun at least fifty times of your father having arrested the famous Poulailler."
Lady Owenson. "The famous Poulailler! Oh! M. Picard, tell us all about it; do, there is a dear entertaining man. The famous Poulailler! pray begin; I am all curiosity to hear your amusing account of it."
M. Picard. "At your desire, madam, certainly; although 'tis an old story, and I fear you will find it somewhat too lengthy for a lady's patience."
Lady Owenson. "Nay, M. Picard, I entreat the favour, of your relating it."
M. Picard. "Well then, madam, you must first understand that this Poulailler was the most adroit robber that had appeared since the time of Cartouche. I should never have finished were I to relate only the fourth part of what I have heard my mother repeat concerning him; for though my parent is nearly four-score years of age, she has a famous memory."
The General. "Come, come, captain, don't lose the thread of your discourse already."
Lady Owenson. "Now pray, general, do not interrupt us. Go on, M. Picard—I am all attention."
M. Picard. "To make the story as brief as possible, I will just proceed to inform you that, at the time in which my story happened, the court was at Fontainebleau, celebrating, with more than usual splendour, a royal marriage which had just taken place. My father, who was a police officer, received one night an express, announcing to him that one night, at the close of a ball, several individuals, dressed as noblemen, had disappeared, carrying with them the greater part of the diamond ornaments belonging to the ladies who had figured in the quadrilles. These thefts amounted to a very considerable sum; they had been effected with so much audacity, subtilty, and precision, that it was unanimously decided none but the bold and daring Poulailler could have been the author of them. He had been seen at the head of six men, superbly equipped, taking the road to Paris. These were presumed to have been the thieves, and that they would pass on to Essonne. My father lost no time in repairing thither, and there he learnt that the whole cavalcade had alighted at the sign of the Grand Cerf, that deserted house now known by the name of the Farm. When my father reached the auberge I have been speaking of, they had retired to bed, leaving their fine horses carefully locked in the stable. My father determined, as a first step, to seize the horses, which he found ready saddled and bridled. They were shod the reverse way, so as to lead any person pursuing them into the idea of their having gone by a directly opposite road to that they had in reality taken."
Lady Owenson. "What a deep trick! These robbers appear to have been a match for even your respected father, M. Picard."
M. Picard. "My father caused the girths to be cut, and then ascended to the chamber of Poulailler; but this latter, warned by one of his spies, had already flown, and the rest of the band were dispersed about the country: nor could he at present spare the necessary time for their pursuit. My father hastened to the Cour de France, where he learnt that a smart gentleman, dressed in a coat covered with gold, and having fine waving plumes in his hat, had been seen to enter a little roadside public-house. Doubtlessly this was Poulailler, at least so thought my father; when, upon entering the cottage, he perceived the object of his search. 'In the king's name, I arrest you,' exclaimed my father. 'Ah, my good sir,' replied his prisoner, 'for mercy's sake do not arrest me; I am not the person you are in search of, but a poor devil going to Paris with a flock of turkeys. On my road I met a gentleman, who bought them of me, and exchanged his coat for mine. I did not lose by the bargain, without reckoning the fifteen bright Louis d'ors he paid me for my turkeys. Pray, sir, if you are looking for him, do not harm him, for he is a charming gentleman; he spoke so gently and scholar-like about his being tired of living with the great, and how he meant to have a taste of rural simplicity, I think he called it. If you should meet him on the road, you would fancy he had been a turkey-driver all his life; he dabs among them with his long pole. My conscience! the poor birds have never had so strict a master. Little fear, I think, of their being lost on the way for want of being looked after.' My father had no sooner received these particulars, than he galloped after the pretended turkey-merchant, whom he quickly overtook. Poulailler, finding himself discovered, endeavoured to fly; but my father was more than his equal in speed. The robber then fired off a brace of pistols; but my father, not in the least intimidated, leaped from his horse, seized Poulailler by the throat, threw him on the ground, and succeeded in fastening his hands behind him. I can assure you that it required no small strength, as well as courage, to effect all this, for Poulailler was a most powerful man; however, in the present instance he had met with his match."
General Beaufort. "Well, Captain Picard, have you finished? Your way of telling a story is just what I have heard called spinning a long yarn."
Myself, (addressing General Beaufort.) "Genera, I ask your pardon; but the more I look at you, the more I feel assured that I have had the honour of knowing you. Allow me to inquire whether you did not command the gendarmes at Mons?"
The General. "Yes, friend, in 1793. We were with Dumouriez and the then duke of Orleans."
Myself. "There it was then, general, that I had the honour to serve under you."
The General (extending his hand to me with enthusiasm.) "Ah, my noble comrade, come, to my arms. You must positively eat your dinner with me. Gentlemen, I beg to present to you one of my old soldiers; he is tolerably strong built, is he not? Ah, I had many fine fellows under me; but never mind. I say, M. Picard, I think my friend here could have arrested even your gigantic M. Poulailler."
Whilst the worthy general was pressing my hands in his, and reiterating his request that I should dine with him, a gendarme, who had been seeking me amongst the spectators, approached me, and, gently touching my shoulder, said, "M. Vidocq, the king's solicitor has been inquiring for you, and wishes to see you immediately." It was really ludicrous to see how every countenance changed at these words. "What! can it be Vidocq?" exclaimed my late audience, with lengthened faces. "Vidocq! Vidocq!" shouted out others, and immediately all was fighting, struggling, and confusion, to endeavour to force a passage for the eager looks of those who were not sufficiently near to gratify their eye-sight with a view of the so much coveted monster, for such they certainly expected to find me. Some even climbed on the shoulders of their neighbours, to satisfy themselves as to whether I really was a human creature or not; of this I had convincing proofs by the following flying remarks which reached my ears:—
"Bless me! light complexion! I fancied him quite dark. I heard he was ill-looking. I see nothing so very ugly about him. What a strange manner of walking he has!"
These and similar observations were made by the crowd, whose sole interest now seemed centered in noting down every particular relative to my personal appearance. So great was the concourse of gazers, that I had much difficulty in forcing my way along to the procureur. This magistrate wished me to conduct the accused persons before the interrogating judge. Court, whom I first led thither, appeared intimidated at finding himself in the presence of so many persons, I exhorted him to keep up his courage, and to confirm his confessions. This he did without any great difficulty, as far as related to the assassination of the butcher; but when questioned on the subject of the poulterer he retracted all his previous declarations, and it was impossible to lead him to confess that he had had any other accomplices than Raoul. This latter when introduced into the chamber, unhesitatingly confirmed every fact mentioned in the procès verbal, which had been drawn up after his arrest. He related in full detail, and with the most imperturbable sang froid, all that had passed between the unfortunate Fontaine and his murderers, up to the moment of his striking the first blow at his victim.
"The man," said he, "was only stunned by the two blows he received from a stick; when I saw that they had not sufficed to bring him to the ground, I drew near, as if to support him, holding in my hand the knife which is lying upon that table;" pronouncing these words, he sprang towards the desk, abruptly seized the instrument of his crime, made two steps backwards, and rolling his eyes, sparkling with fury, he assumed a menacing attitude. This movement, which was wholly unexpected, filled with terror all who were present; the sous préfet was nearly fainting, and I myself underwent some alarm. Nevertheless, I felt the necessity of concealing from Raoul the effect he had produced, and I even sought to attribute his violent gestures to a good motive. "Gentlemen!" cried I, smiling, what is it you fear? Raoul is incapable of acting like a coward, and abusing the confidence reposed in him; he merely took up the knife, the better to explain his share in the business." "Thanks, M. Jules!" cried he, delighted with my explanation, and quietly laying down the knife on the table, he added, "I only wished to show you how I made use of it."
To complete the preliminaries it only remained to confront the accused with Fontaine; the surgeon was applied to, to ascertain whether the sick man was sufficiently recovered to bear so trying a scene, and he having replied in the affirmative. Court and Raoul were taken to the hospital. Introduced into the apartment occupied by the butcher, their eyes eagerly sought their victim. Fontaine with his head and face nearly covered with bandages, and his whole person wrapped in linen cloths, was indeed scarcely to be recognised; but beside him were displayed the clothes and shirt worn by him on the night he was so cruelly assaulted. "Ah! poor Fontaine!" cried Court, falling on his knees at the foot of the bed, decorated by these bloody trophies; "forgive the miserable wretches who have reduced you to this condition; that you still survive is a striking interposition of Providence, who has been pleased to preserve you the better to punish us as our crimes deserve."
Whilst he was expressing himself thus, Raoul, who had likewise knelt down, preserved a deep silence, and appeared plunged in the deepest affliction.
"Stand up, both of you, and look the sick man in the face;" said the judge who accompanied them. They rose up—
"Take those murderers from my sight!" shrieked Fontaine, "their countenances and voice are but too familiar to me."
This recognition, and the manner of the culprits, was more than sufficient to establish the fact of Court and Raoul having been the actors in this frightful tragedy; but, I was firmly persuaded that they had other crimes besides this, with which to reproach themselves, and that, in order to commit them, they must have been more than two in number. This was a secret of the greatest importance. I determined to exert myself to the utmost to come at the truth; and not to quit them till I induced them to unload their consciences by a full confession of their past misdeeds. On our return to the prison after this meeting, I caused supper to be served for the accused and myself. The porter inquired whether he should place knives on the table.
"Yes, yes!" cried I, "set knives to each gentleman, by all means."
My two guests eat their meals with as great an appearance of appetite, as though they had been the most honest men breathing. When they had drunk a few glasses of wine, I dexterously brought back the conversation to the subject of their crime.
"You are not naturally bad fellows," said I to them, "I'll engage that you have been led into all this by some scoundrel or other; why not own it? From the confession and repentance you displayed at the sight of Fontaine, it is easily seen that you would willingly recall, at the price of your own blood, the violence he received at your hands. And do you not consider that by concealing your accomplices you are responsible for all the crimes they may commit. Many persons who have come forward to depose against you, have declared that you were at least four in number in all your expeditions."
"They were mistaken then," exclaimed Raoul; "I give you my word of honour, M. Jules, that they were; we were never more than three, the other is an old officer of the customs, named Pons Gerard; he lives just on the frontier, in a little village between Capelle and Hirson in the department of the Aisne; but if you think to catch him, I must warn you that he is not to be caught napping, he always sleeps with one eye open whilst the other is shut."
"No!" said Court, "it would be no easy job to nab him, and if you do not set your wits to work you will only get your labour for your pains."
"Oh, he is a queer hand indeed," cried Raoul; "you are no bungler yourself, M. Jules, but ten like you would not frighten him; at any rate you must be on your guard if he gets scent of your being in search of him; he is not far from Belgium, and will soon be off; if you surprise him he will make a desperate resistance, so try if you cannot manage to take him asleep."
"Yes, if you could find out that he ever does sleep," added Court.
I made strict inquiries as to the usual habits of Pons Gérard, and obtained a full description both of them and his person. As soon as I had learned every particular requisite for being secure of identifying my man, thinking to stamp the confession I had just elicited with all possible authenticity, I proposed to the two prisoners to write off immediately for a magistrate to receive their depositions. Raoul instantly took up his pen, and when his letter was completed, I carried the letter myself to the king's solicitor, it was conceived in the following terms:—
"Sir,—Being now in a frame of mind more suitable to our unhappy condition, and resolving to profit by the advice you bestowed upon us, we have come to the resolution of acknowledging to you every crime of which we are guilty, and to point out to you a sharer in them, whose name is at present unknown to you. We entreat of you, therefore, to have the kindness to visit us in our prison, in order to receive our depositions."
The magistrate lost no time in acceding to their request, and Court as well as Raoul repeated before him all that they had previously told me of Pons Gérard.
This latter now occupied all my thoughts, and as it would not do to allow him time to learn the destruction of his comrade's schemes, I instantly obtained an order to arrest him.