This is another magnificent edifice. It is enclosed within a gate 120
feet in length, which forms the boundary of a large area. The façade
presents a very dignified appearance, at the middle of which, after
ascending a flight of steps, the people enter through a vast opening.
Among the different courts there is one which can never fail to attract
a foreigner--the hall where the Revolutionary Tribunal assembled to
murder innocents by wholesale. It is now called the Chamber of the
Court of Appeal, and is completely altered since I last saw it in
1793, when a set of drunken cannibals, selected from the filthiest
styes of the Metropolis, with red caps upon their heads, made human
nature tremble, inundated France with blood, and caused every honest
man to envy the days of Nero and Caracalla. The person who was with me
gave me a very minute account of the trials of the Queen and Princess
Elizabeth, where they were stationed, and how calm and dignified was
their behaviour.
In the Criminal Court four young men were being tried for their lives.
The room, the seats of the judges, advocates, jury and spectators, made
me think I was in one of the circuit courts of our own country. Every
person was uncovered. The judge politely invited us to sit within the
tribunal, so we saw and heard all that passed distinctly.
There were three judges, who wore the same gowns as our Masters of
Arts. The prisoners were seated on their left, attended by two _gens
d’armes_ and their counsel on a seat below them; to the right the
jury and public prosecutor were stationed. This latter official was
habited like the judges.
One of the prisoners completely established an _alibi_, the others
succeeded so far as to render the evidence against them all ambiguous,
so in consequence they were acquitted.
The Revolution caused such havoc among the corps of lawyers that the
profession is scarcely deemed reputable. Every advocate of the old
Monarchy, who entered into the spirit of the times, is now either a
member of the Tribunate or the Conservative Senate.
The most lamentable circumstance in the interests of justice is the
mean salaries granted to the judges, the principal of whom do not
receive more than £400 sterling a year; and when the importance of
their functions and their relative rank in society are contrasted
with their pay, one cannot avoid thinking that there is a deliberate
intention to degrade the name of Justice in this country, by rendering
it infinitely below the scale of military authority.
This opinion is corroborated by what took place a short time ago at the
Tuileries, when the Civil Code was under discussion. Cambacères, the
Second Consul, had actually persuaded Bonaparte that in England there
were _no juries_ in _civil causes_. Upon further inquiry St. Jean d’
Angely assured him of the contrary. “How is this, Cambacères,” said
the First Consul, “I am now told that the English always have juries
in civil as well as criminal causes?” The latter still persisting,
Blackstone was appealed to, but as no one present understood enough
English to read this law book, Bonaparte extricated himself from the
dilemma by saying: “Oh! as to these matters, one says one thing and
another another; there appears to be no certainty at all about what is
the practice in England, nor is it of any consequence whatever, but
I decide there shall be no juries in France in civil causes!” _Ainsi
soit-il!_
With this stupendous effort of human judgment I finish my account of
the mode in which justice is administered in this enlightened Republic.