Читать книгу The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 389, September 12, 1829 - Various - Страница 3

VIDOCQ. (Concluded.)

We have a vulgar book called Frauds of London laid open, and Vidocq's fourth volume will serve for Paris, since he defines the nomenclature—nay the very craft of thieves with great minuteness: thus—

The Chevaliers Grimpants

"The Chevaliers Grimpants, called also voleurs au bonjour, donneurs de bonjours, bonjouriers, are those who introduce themselves into a house and carry off in an instant the first movable commodity that falls in their way. The first bonjouriers were I am assured, servants out of place. They were at first few in number, but, soon acquiring pupils, their industry increased so rapidly, that from 1800 to 1812, there was scarcely a day that robberies were not committed in Paris of from a dozen to fifteen baskets of plate.

"The Almanach du commerce, l'Almanach royal, and that with twenty-five thousand addresses in it, are, for bonjouriers, the most interesting works that can be published. Every morning, before they go out, they consult them; and when they propose visiting any particular house, it is very seldom that they are not acquainted with the names of at least two persons in it; and that they may effect an entrance, they inquire for one when they see the porter, and endeavour to rob the other.

"A bonjourier has always a gentlemanly appearance, and his shoes always well made and thin. He gives the preference to kid before any other leather, and takes care to bruise and break the sole that it may not creak or make any noise; sometimes the sole is made of felt; at other times, and especially in winter, the kid slipper, or dogskin shoe, is replaced by list shoes, with which they can walk, go up stairs, or descend a staircase, without any noise. The theft au bonjour, is effected without violence, without skeleton keys, without burglariously entering. If a thief sees a key in a door of a room, he first knocks very gently, then a little harder, then very loudly; if no person answers, he turns the handle, and thus enters the antechamber. He then advances to the eating-room, penetrates even to the adjoining apartments, to see if there be any person there; returns, and if the key of the sideboard is not to be seen, he looks in all the places in which he knows it is generally deposited, and if he finds it, he instantly uses it to open the drawers, and taking out the plate, he places it generally in his hat, after which, he covers it with a napkin, or fine cambric handkerchief, which, by its texture and whiteness, announces the gentleman. Should the bonjourier, whilst on his enterprise, hear any person coming, he goes straight towards him, and accosting him, wishes him good morning (le bonjour) with a smiling and almost familiar air, and inquires if it be not Monsieur 'such a one,' to whom he has the honour of addressing himself. He is directed to the story higher or lower, and, then still smiling, evincing the utmost politeness and making a thousand excuses and affected bows, he withdraws. It may so happen, that he has not had time to consummate his larceny, but most frequently the business is perfected, and the discovery of loss only made too late to remedy it.

"The majority of the thieves in this particular line commence their incursions with morning, at the hour when the housekeepers go out for their cream, or have a gossip whilst their masters and mistresses are in bed. Other bonjouriers do not open the campaign until near dinner time; they pitch upon the moment when the plate is laid upon the table. They enter, and in the twinkling of an eye, they cause spoons, forks, ladles, &c. to vanish. This is technically termed goupiner à la desserte, (clearing the cloth).

"One day one of these goupineurs à la desserte was on the look out in a dining room, when a servant entered carrying two silver dishes, between which were some fish. Without being at all disconcerted, he went up to her, and said—'Well, go and bring up the soup, the gentlemen are in a hurry.'

"'Yes, sir,' said the maid, taking him for one of the guests, 'it is quite ready, and if you please you can announce the dinner.'

"At the same time she ran to the kitchen, and the goupineur, after having hastily emptied the dishes, thrust them between his waistcoat and shirt. The girl returned with the broth, the pretended guest had retired, and there was not a single piece of silver left on the table. They denounced this theft to me, and from the statement given, as well as the description of the person committing the robbery, I thought I had recognised my man. He was called Cheinaux, alias Bayer, and was discovered and apprehended in Saint Catherine's market. His shirt was marked with the circumference of the dishes, in consequence of the remains of the sauce left in them.