Chapter Fifty-Four: Cherchez La Femme…Or May The Bridges That She Burns Light The Way
I've had this chapter mostly complete for a while, to be honest, but I didn't post it because I simply don't like it much. The inclusion of character-driven narration made me realize that I hadn't really given this enough room for the characters to breathe or to have a proper fleshed-out arc. In the end I decided to just accept this as a flawed experiment, and something to keep in mind when I plot future story arcs later on. I have been writing almost 2,000 words for the next chapter already, but it's shaping up to be a really long one depending on how I conclude some of the subplots in Poland. In the meantime, enjoy.
The Devil of Roubaix’s attack on the Braderie gripped the city of Lille with fear, but it also gave the authorities their first solid lead in the case. A public notice was put out for anyone struck ill by the killer’s arsenic products to come forward for police interviews, with the aim of identifying which street vendor had been the source of the poisoned food.
And there was no time to waste as far as the police prefecture was concerned. Police Prefect Benoît Augustin faced pressure from above and below to apprehend a suspect as quickly as possible. La Presse had brought the Devil’s existence to national attention even before 6 September, and in the wake of the Braderie attack, the paper naturally intensified his coverage alongside France’s other major publications.
To make matters worse, Editor Émile de Girardin took umbrage with Augustin’s refusal to provide information about the ongoing investigation, and decided to fill the void of official pronouncements with lurid speculation as to the killer’s identity and their potential future targets. [2]
Of course, the public dissemination of the police’s search alerted the Devil to the looming exposure of their identity. But rather than fleeing the city as a common criminal would have, they instead decided to stake everything on one spectacular gamble, one that would cement their legend in victory or in defeat.
Int. Lille Police Headquarters – Evening
Guillaume Dubois: That doesn’t look like one of the witness interviews we’re supposed to be transcribing, Florent.
Florent Bourdouleix: It isn’t, but if my hunch is correct, it might be even more important.
Guillaume Dubois: Oh?
Florent Bourdouleix: It’s a letter from Blaise, a friend of mine from the academy. He was assigned to Morbihan after graduation.
Guillaume Dubois: Is that so? Who did he upset to get consigned to that backwater?
Florent Bourdouleix: Blaise didn’t exactly graduate at the top of his class, but he’s sharper than people give him credit for. In any case, he wrote to me a week ago after the nuns at St. Catherine were murdered, telling me that the news reminded one of his colleagues about some unsolved cases from way back. He said the two of them would look into the department’s records for more information and that he’d write back once they found something.
Guillaume Dubois: So you hope to glean some insights into the Devil’s mindset by learning more about similar cases in the past?
Florent Bourdouleix: Exactly. To catch this criminal, we need to be able to think as he does. That’s what Vidocq says, is it not?
Guillaume Dubois: Vidocq would advocate the approach that suits him best, I suppose. But that hardly seems like an adequate substitute for diligent investigation of the matters at hand. If you try too hard to make the existing problem fit into the model of past cases, you’ll overlook the things that make each case unique. Cleverness is its own worst enemy.
Florent Bourdouleix: Cleverness is the only way we can get out in front of this case instead of just reacting to the Devil’s last move. We won’t get anywhere by recording the same half-remembered details from all ten thousand or so people who attended the Braderie this year. I’d rather be out there doing-
Police Prefect Benoît Augustin enters. Bourdouleix’s papers are scattered across the floor, and he quickly scrambles to gather them all up.
Benoît Augustin: Out there doing what, exactly?
Guillaume Dubois: Monsieur, we have some progress to –
Benoît Augustin: I should certainly hope you’ve some progress to report after three days of speaking with witnesses. Name the street vendor so we can bring them in for questioning. If the Devil was a hired hand for one of the merchants, then they’ve had all the time in the world to escape by now.
Guillaume Dubois: The festivalgoers frequented a number of places before the Braderie closed, but nearly all accounts mentioned –
Benoît Augustin: Did I stutter, detective? The name.
The detective takes a deep breath to recompose himself.
Guillaume Dubois: The victims all purchased confectionaries from Madame Lucille Gauthier, who normally maintains a bakery on Rue de l’Épinette.
Benoît Augustin: Then don’t let me keep you here. Find Madame Gauthier and bring her back here posthaste. I’ve more than enough scrutiny from higher up to deal with, but Girardin insists on complicating matters further with his sensationalist drivel.
Augustin produces a crumpled-up copy of La Presse from his coat pocket for emphasis.
Benoît Augustin: Oh good, it seems the jackals have moved on from their obsession with mad physicians. Now the Devil is a recent immigrant to Lille, “likely of German origin,” they say. I’ll admit it’s more plausible than their last theory, but they still haven’t a shred of evidence to speak of. So remember: don’t be like them, detective. Also -
An officer bursts into the room, scattering papers from the table nearest the door.
Officer: Monsieur, a fire has started on Faubourg-de-Béthune! Three buildings are already ablaze!
Benoît Augustin: Merde. What of the pompiers?
Officer: They reached the site just before I left. They fight the blaze with the help of volunteers, but the fire continues to spread! [3]
Benoît Augustin: Understaffed as always. Very well, I’ll bring the gendarmes to assist with the fire. Dubois, Bourdouleix, you both know what this likely is. Try to intercept the Devil before he escapes the city. If he slips away, we’ll all wish we’d died in the flames.
Guillaume Dubois: We won’t fail you, Monsieur. Come Florent, we may beat them to the Porte-
Dubois makes for the door, but Bourdouleix catches his arm to stop him.
Florent Bourdouleix: No, not the gates. There’s somewhere else we need to be right now. Let’s hurry, I can explain on the way.
Int. Church of St. Catherine – Evening
Parish Priest Philippe Andruet is alone, kneeling in prayer at the foot of the altar. The Devil of Roubaix enters, their face concealed by shadow as they take cover behind a column.
Devil of Roubaix: You can hear the screams of the dying from here, Father, and yet you still take the time to beg for help from a God who never answers. Old habits die hard, do they not?
Philippe Andruet: I pray for the salvation of the suffering, yes. For deliverance from the flames for those who can be saved, and for peace in the next life for those who cannot. My great regret is that I failed to help you understand this, Helene.
He finally turns to face the Devil, as Hélène Jégado steps forward from the shadows, a knife in hand.
Hélène Jégado: Oh, but I understood, old man. If you stepped out of this ivory tower and opened your eyes, you would see how little I’ve accomplished…and how much. More citizens die from simple street muggings in Lille every year than I’ve slain in five. All I have done is cast my shadow, forcing the city to see the connections between these random acts of violence. And in doing so, to recognize the truth.
Philippe Andruet: And what do you care for truth? The letter received by the newspaper was not yours.
Hélène Jégado: Of course it wasn’t. But it spoke the truth nonetheless. I’ve already won – scarred this city with a knife, a match, and a few fistfuls of arsenic. [4] I’ve shown them how little the love of the Lord or the wisdom of the Emperor is worth. The Devil’s reign over Lille will never be forgotten. But Hélène Jégado? Her memory dies with you tonight. God is not here to save you.
Guillaume Dubois: But I am.
Guillaume Dubois, emerged from his hiding place, opens fire on Jégado with his pistol, sending her sprawling. Florent Bourdouleix appears from a separate alcove to restrain her.
Philippe Andruet: Is she-?
Florent Bourdouleix: She’ll live. Probably.
Guillaume Dubois: I was trying not to kill, although that wasn’t exactly a skill I learned in the Grande Armée.
Philippe Andruet: Well, I cannot thank the two of you enough. But how did you know Hélène would come here?
Florent Bourdouleix: It was the change in modus operandi. If she had simply wanted to silence the baker who hired her to help with the Braderie, then her usual poison or knife would have sufficed. The fire suggested a twin purpose: to erase the evidence of her employment and to divert our attention from another target.
Guillaume Dubois: And for her to have targeted the three nuns who lived at this church, it was likely she had done so as well, which meant you were the only person remaining in Lille who could identify her.
Florent Bourdouleix: With Andruet dead, you could leave the city and start all over again elsewhere, isn’t that right?
Hélène Jégado: (chuckles weakly) Why not? It worked once before.
Florent Bourdouleix: In Brittany, no?
Hélène Jégado: How do you-? (breaks off, coughing)
Florent Bourdouleix: A friend did some digging and found records of a few unsolved cases of poisoning near Lorient from a few years ago. The primary suspect was not charged and disappeared shortly thereafter. That was your work, wasn’t it? [5]
Guillaume Dubois: So Blaise’s letter was fruitful after all. Perhaps Minister Vidocq is right to encourage our…criminal intuition, as it were.
Florent Bourdouleix: I think he is, but the Sûreté’s hard work and diligence also played their part. The Devil had to resort to drastic measures and got sloppy because we were closing in on her, and it took careful investigation by Blaise in Lorient to make the proper connection with the cases in Morbihan.
Guillaume Dubois: So hard work and cleverness work best hand in hand.
Florent Bourdouleix: Exactly, and that’s why I’m glad you’ve been here to guide me, Guillaume.
Guillaume Dubois: Give me no credit, I simply follow my instincts, the same as you.
Florent Bourdouleix: To good instincts, then.
Guillaume Dubois: To good instincts.
The capture of Hélène Jégado marked an end to the Devil’s grip on Lille. Jégado was remarkably forthcoming about her crimes, including the three murders she had committed in rural Brittany where she had grown up. Having lost her mother at a young age, she was sent to work with two aunts at the rectory of Bubry. Jégado attributed her resentment of organized religion and existential nihilism on the harsh upbringing she had known since childhood.
The one secret Jégado ultimately took to her grave was the true author of her infamous manifesto. She admitted to illiteracy at trial, and claimed that the letter had been dictated by her to an unnamed confederate, refusing to provide any further specifics when pressed. Since her death, there has been ample speculation that the Devil had no involvement with the writing of the manifesto at all, with the most cynical observers theorizing that the hoax had been perpetrated by a sensationalist newspaper writer to draw a wider audience to the goings-on in Lille. [6]
The repercussions of the Devil’s actions would also outlive her. Eight citizens died in the fire Jégado set, including the unfortunate Lucille Gauthier. The difficulty faced by the pompiers in quelling the blaze also underscored the shortcomings in Lille’s nascent professional firefighting service, which lagged behind the Parisian pompiers in both funding and organization. The following year, the city government raised property taxes to help pay for a complete overhaul of Lille’s fire department with little of the resistance that typically accompanies tax hikes in local politics.
The matter of Jégado’s arsenic attacks on the Braderie was harder to resolve. Inspecting the wares of the multitude of vendors that lined the streets during the festival was infeasible. Beyond stationing gendarmes to stand watch during the festivities, there was little the city government could do, so the visible show of force by the police became a part of the Braderie’s traditions. This was far from enough to assuage the lingering insecurity of the city, however, and attendance at the festival remained sparse for several years afterwards.
But in the end, the most damaging legacy of the Devil of Roubaix came about in a remote village on the banks of the Meuse. The village’s resident lector of dogmatic theology had been following the case obsessively since it appeared in La Presse, and once Jégado’s trial was over, he decided to leave the village to start a new life in Paris.
[1] I just couldn’t decide between two different titles this time, so I went with both.
[2] As a serial killer who taunts the authorities with a letter and whose activities spark a media frenzy, I was clearly taking a lot of cues from Jack the Ripper without even thinking about it. In any case, La Presse was a pro-government publication, so sensationalism about who the killer is and their motives provides an outlet to milk the story without criticizing the authorities even as they stonewall reporters.
[3] The firefighters in Paris became steadily more professional and effective over the 18th century, but as late as 1820 IOTL soldiers and ordinary citizens still wound up pitching in to help combat a particularly bad fire in Bercy, and one would expect smaller cities like Lille to lag behind in terms of the resources they could spare for their departments.
[4] Because the narration is from a play, I don’t feel as self-conscious over how stylized the dialogue and action can get. Suffice to say the actual confrontation with Jégado was less dramatic and eloquent.
[5] For background, IOTL Jégado was a serial poisoner who operated in Brittany from the 1833 to 1841, lying low for several years before going on one last spree in 1851. The move to northeastern France and the misotheism are mostly butterfly-induced weirdness, although she did get thrown out of a convent IOTL for vandalism and sacrilege, so not much reverence for religion to begin with.
[6] Apart from the Ripper parallels, I also want the timeline to have stuff that just remains mysterious because the people ITTL don’t have all the answers either. Some information gets lost to time even now.
Chapter Fifty-Four: Cherchez La Femme…Or May The Bridges That She Burns Light The Way [1]
Excerpted from Angels and Demons: The Shadow War for the Soul of France by Mathias Gaspard, 2004.
Excerpted from Angels and Demons: The Shadow War for the Soul of France by Mathias Gaspard, 2004.
The Devil of Roubaix’s attack on the Braderie gripped the city of Lille with fear, but it also gave the authorities their first solid lead in the case. A public notice was put out for anyone struck ill by the killer’s arsenic products to come forward for police interviews, with the aim of identifying which street vendor had been the source of the poisoned food.
And there was no time to waste as far as the police prefecture was concerned. Police Prefect Benoît Augustin faced pressure from above and below to apprehend a suspect as quickly as possible. La Presse had brought the Devil’s existence to national attention even before 6 September, and in the wake of the Braderie attack, the paper naturally intensified his coverage alongside France’s other major publications.
To make matters worse, Editor Émile de Girardin took umbrage with Augustin’s refusal to provide information about the ongoing investigation, and decided to fill the void of official pronouncements with lurid speculation as to the killer’s identity and their potential future targets. [2]
Of course, the public dissemination of the police’s search alerted the Devil to the looming exposure of their identity. But rather than fleeing the city as a common criminal would have, they instead decided to stake everything on one spectacular gamble, one that would cement their legend in victory or in defeat.
Excerpted from The Devil’s Hand by Thibault Monet, 1912.
Int. Lille Police Headquarters – Evening
Guillaume Dubois: That doesn’t look like one of the witness interviews we’re supposed to be transcribing, Florent.
Florent Bourdouleix: It isn’t, but if my hunch is correct, it might be even more important.
Guillaume Dubois: Oh?
Florent Bourdouleix: It’s a letter from Blaise, a friend of mine from the academy. He was assigned to Morbihan after graduation.
Guillaume Dubois: Is that so? Who did he upset to get consigned to that backwater?
Florent Bourdouleix: Blaise didn’t exactly graduate at the top of his class, but he’s sharper than people give him credit for. In any case, he wrote to me a week ago after the nuns at St. Catherine were murdered, telling me that the news reminded one of his colleagues about some unsolved cases from way back. He said the two of them would look into the department’s records for more information and that he’d write back once they found something.
Guillaume Dubois: So you hope to glean some insights into the Devil’s mindset by learning more about similar cases in the past?
Florent Bourdouleix: Exactly. To catch this criminal, we need to be able to think as he does. That’s what Vidocq says, is it not?
Guillaume Dubois: Vidocq would advocate the approach that suits him best, I suppose. But that hardly seems like an adequate substitute for diligent investigation of the matters at hand. If you try too hard to make the existing problem fit into the model of past cases, you’ll overlook the things that make each case unique. Cleverness is its own worst enemy.
Florent Bourdouleix: Cleverness is the only way we can get out in front of this case instead of just reacting to the Devil’s last move. We won’t get anywhere by recording the same half-remembered details from all ten thousand or so people who attended the Braderie this year. I’d rather be out there doing-
Police Prefect Benoît Augustin enters. Bourdouleix’s papers are scattered across the floor, and he quickly scrambles to gather them all up.
Benoît Augustin: Out there doing what, exactly?
Guillaume Dubois: Monsieur, we have some progress to –
Benoît Augustin: I should certainly hope you’ve some progress to report after three days of speaking with witnesses. Name the street vendor so we can bring them in for questioning. If the Devil was a hired hand for one of the merchants, then they’ve had all the time in the world to escape by now.
Guillaume Dubois: The festivalgoers frequented a number of places before the Braderie closed, but nearly all accounts mentioned –
Benoît Augustin: Did I stutter, detective? The name.
The detective takes a deep breath to recompose himself.
Guillaume Dubois: The victims all purchased confectionaries from Madame Lucille Gauthier, who normally maintains a bakery on Rue de l’Épinette.
Benoît Augustin: Then don’t let me keep you here. Find Madame Gauthier and bring her back here posthaste. I’ve more than enough scrutiny from higher up to deal with, but Girardin insists on complicating matters further with his sensationalist drivel.
Augustin produces a crumpled-up copy of La Presse from his coat pocket for emphasis.
Benoît Augustin: Oh good, it seems the jackals have moved on from their obsession with mad physicians. Now the Devil is a recent immigrant to Lille, “likely of German origin,” they say. I’ll admit it’s more plausible than their last theory, but they still haven’t a shred of evidence to speak of. So remember: don’t be like them, detective. Also -
An officer bursts into the room, scattering papers from the table nearest the door.
Officer: Monsieur, a fire has started on Faubourg-de-Béthune! Three buildings are already ablaze!
Benoît Augustin: Merde. What of the pompiers?
Officer: They reached the site just before I left. They fight the blaze with the help of volunteers, but the fire continues to spread! [3]
Benoît Augustin: Understaffed as always. Very well, I’ll bring the gendarmes to assist with the fire. Dubois, Bourdouleix, you both know what this likely is. Try to intercept the Devil before he escapes the city. If he slips away, we’ll all wish we’d died in the flames.
Guillaume Dubois: We won’t fail you, Monsieur. Come Florent, we may beat them to the Porte-
Dubois makes for the door, but Bourdouleix catches his arm to stop him.
Florent Bourdouleix: No, not the gates. There’s somewhere else we need to be right now. Let’s hurry, I can explain on the way.
Int. Church of St. Catherine – Evening
Parish Priest Philippe Andruet is alone, kneeling in prayer at the foot of the altar. The Devil of Roubaix enters, their face concealed by shadow as they take cover behind a column.
Devil of Roubaix: You can hear the screams of the dying from here, Father, and yet you still take the time to beg for help from a God who never answers. Old habits die hard, do they not?
Philippe Andruet: I pray for the salvation of the suffering, yes. For deliverance from the flames for those who can be saved, and for peace in the next life for those who cannot. My great regret is that I failed to help you understand this, Helene.
He finally turns to face the Devil, as Hélène Jégado steps forward from the shadows, a knife in hand.
Hélène Jégado: Oh, but I understood, old man. If you stepped out of this ivory tower and opened your eyes, you would see how little I’ve accomplished…and how much. More citizens die from simple street muggings in Lille every year than I’ve slain in five. All I have done is cast my shadow, forcing the city to see the connections between these random acts of violence. And in doing so, to recognize the truth.
Philippe Andruet: And what do you care for truth? The letter received by the newspaper was not yours.
Hélène Jégado: Of course it wasn’t. But it spoke the truth nonetheless. I’ve already won – scarred this city with a knife, a match, and a few fistfuls of arsenic. [4] I’ve shown them how little the love of the Lord or the wisdom of the Emperor is worth. The Devil’s reign over Lille will never be forgotten. But Hélène Jégado? Her memory dies with you tonight. God is not here to save you.
Guillaume Dubois: But I am.
Guillaume Dubois, emerged from his hiding place, opens fire on Jégado with his pistol, sending her sprawling. Florent Bourdouleix appears from a separate alcove to restrain her.
Philippe Andruet: Is she-?
Florent Bourdouleix: She’ll live. Probably.
Guillaume Dubois: I was trying not to kill, although that wasn’t exactly a skill I learned in the Grande Armée.
Philippe Andruet: Well, I cannot thank the two of you enough. But how did you know Hélène would come here?
Florent Bourdouleix: It was the change in modus operandi. If she had simply wanted to silence the baker who hired her to help with the Braderie, then her usual poison or knife would have sufficed. The fire suggested a twin purpose: to erase the evidence of her employment and to divert our attention from another target.
Guillaume Dubois: And for her to have targeted the three nuns who lived at this church, it was likely she had done so as well, which meant you were the only person remaining in Lille who could identify her.
Florent Bourdouleix: With Andruet dead, you could leave the city and start all over again elsewhere, isn’t that right?
Hélène Jégado: (chuckles weakly) Why not? It worked once before.
Florent Bourdouleix: In Brittany, no?
Hélène Jégado: How do you-? (breaks off, coughing)
Florent Bourdouleix: A friend did some digging and found records of a few unsolved cases of poisoning near Lorient from a few years ago. The primary suspect was not charged and disappeared shortly thereafter. That was your work, wasn’t it? [5]
Guillaume Dubois: So Blaise’s letter was fruitful after all. Perhaps Minister Vidocq is right to encourage our…criminal intuition, as it were.
Florent Bourdouleix: I think he is, but the Sûreté’s hard work and diligence also played their part. The Devil had to resort to drastic measures and got sloppy because we were closing in on her, and it took careful investigation by Blaise in Lorient to make the proper connection with the cases in Morbihan.
Guillaume Dubois: So hard work and cleverness work best hand in hand.
Florent Bourdouleix: Exactly, and that’s why I’m glad you’ve been here to guide me, Guillaume.
Guillaume Dubois: Give me no credit, I simply follow my instincts, the same as you.
Florent Bourdouleix: To good instincts, then.
Guillaume Dubois: To good instincts.
Excerpted from Angels and Demons: The Shadow War for the Soul of France by Mathias Gaspard, 2004.
The capture of Hélène Jégado marked an end to the Devil’s grip on Lille. Jégado was remarkably forthcoming about her crimes, including the three murders she had committed in rural Brittany where she had grown up. Having lost her mother at a young age, she was sent to work with two aunts at the rectory of Bubry. Jégado attributed her resentment of organized religion and existential nihilism on the harsh upbringing she had known since childhood.
The one secret Jégado ultimately took to her grave was the true author of her infamous manifesto. She admitted to illiteracy at trial, and claimed that the letter had been dictated by her to an unnamed confederate, refusing to provide any further specifics when pressed. Since her death, there has been ample speculation that the Devil had no involvement with the writing of the manifesto at all, with the most cynical observers theorizing that the hoax had been perpetrated by a sensationalist newspaper writer to draw a wider audience to the goings-on in Lille. [6]
The repercussions of the Devil’s actions would also outlive her. Eight citizens died in the fire Jégado set, including the unfortunate Lucille Gauthier. The difficulty faced by the pompiers in quelling the blaze also underscored the shortcomings in Lille’s nascent professional firefighting service, which lagged behind the Parisian pompiers in both funding and organization. The following year, the city government raised property taxes to help pay for a complete overhaul of Lille’s fire department with little of the resistance that typically accompanies tax hikes in local politics.
The matter of Jégado’s arsenic attacks on the Braderie was harder to resolve. Inspecting the wares of the multitude of vendors that lined the streets during the festival was infeasible. Beyond stationing gendarmes to stand watch during the festivities, there was little the city government could do, so the visible show of force by the police became a part of the Braderie’s traditions. This was far from enough to assuage the lingering insecurity of the city, however, and attendance at the festival remained sparse for several years afterwards.
But in the end, the most damaging legacy of the Devil of Roubaix came about in a remote village on the banks of the Meuse. The village’s resident lector of dogmatic theology had been following the case obsessively since it appeared in La Presse, and once Jégado’s trial was over, he decided to leave the village to start a new life in Paris.
[1] I just couldn’t decide between two different titles this time, so I went with both.
[2] As a serial killer who taunts the authorities with a letter and whose activities spark a media frenzy, I was clearly taking a lot of cues from Jack the Ripper without even thinking about it. In any case, La Presse was a pro-government publication, so sensationalism about who the killer is and their motives provides an outlet to milk the story without criticizing the authorities even as they stonewall reporters.
[3] The firefighters in Paris became steadily more professional and effective over the 18th century, but as late as 1820 IOTL soldiers and ordinary citizens still wound up pitching in to help combat a particularly bad fire in Bercy, and one would expect smaller cities like Lille to lag behind in terms of the resources they could spare for their departments.
[4] Because the narration is from a play, I don’t feel as self-conscious over how stylized the dialogue and action can get. Suffice to say the actual confrontation with Jégado was less dramatic and eloquent.
[5] For background, IOTL Jégado was a serial poisoner who operated in Brittany from the 1833 to 1841, lying low for several years before going on one last spree in 1851. The move to northeastern France and the misotheism are mostly butterfly-induced weirdness, although she did get thrown out of a convent IOTL for vandalism and sacrilege, so not much reverence for religion to begin with.
[6] Apart from the Ripper parallels, I also want the timeline to have stuff that just remains mysterious because the people ITTL don’t have all the answers either. Some information gets lost to time even now.