I quote his answer from the Petit Parisien, a paper which has made every effort to try the case in its columns with impartiality, and without political bias. I quote it as a sidelight on the inherent peculiarities of the conduct of a criminal trial in France, quite irrespective of the impropriety of its being published at all. “Do not let us go back to a discussion on this point,” answered the magistrate. “You will make nobody believe that when you went to get your letters back or to obtain a promise that they should not be published you lost all power of speech, and lost your head at the same time, to the extent of saying nothing and using your revolver.” “Madame Caillaux had been in the magistrate’s office for six hours,” says the Petit Parisien. “She appeared very tired.” [Pg 289]

Some weeks before this extract from the examination of Madame Caillaux had appeared Excelsior published (on March 25, 1914) an extract from the letter Madame Caillaux had written to her husband and left with Miss Baxter, her daughter’s English governess, to be given to her husband on the evening of March 16 in case she did not return home before him. In this letter Madame Caillaux is said to have written, in reference to her conversation with her husband that same morning, “you told me that you were going to smash his face. I do not want you to sacrifice yourself. France and the Republic need you. I will do it for you.”

The mere fact that such details of the examination of a prisoner by the magistrate appointed to instruct the court which is to try her should be made known in the public Press and should be free for comment weeks before, and even months before the trial of her case in the assize court, calls for no remark. It speaks for itself. A prisoner in France who has been accused of any crime is tried by the public before the trial of the case begins. The jury cannot possibly come into court with impartial minds owing to this system, they cannot listen with open [Pg 290] minds to the evidence which is laid before them in the court room, for they have read it all before, they have thought over it, they have discussed it with their families and with their friends, and with the best will in the world they have been unable to help forming an opinion of one kind or another. And there is another vice of French procedure which is well worthy of note. In a sensational case such as the trial of Madame Caillaux, the jury is subjected to direct influence. After it has been empanelled at the beginning of the trial the members of the jury return to their homes every evening. They are therefore, during the actual hearing of the case, liable to outside influence. Even more than this, the names of the twelve jurymen and of the two supplementary jurymen will certainly be published in the French newspapers with details about the men themselves and their professions, before the trial begins, and this of itself forms an abuse which must inevitably react on the absolute impartiality of a jury, which should be a first necessity of any criminal trial in any country, for numbers of newspapers will tell them what they ought to do and what their verdict ought to be. [Pg 291]

The procedure of a French criminal trial in the court of assizes in Paris is attended with considerable pomp. In the Caillaux case as in the cases of a sensational nature which have preceded it, the rush for tickets of admission to the trial will be enormous. Response to this demand for tickets to hear and to witness the trial rests entirely in the hands of the judge who presides over the proceedings. He is able to admit, to standing room behind the bench, such friends of his own as he cares to admit, and he decides on the number of tickets of admission to the body of the court, which are distributed to the Press. The body of the court is supposed to be reserved for the Press and for the witnesses. In actual fact, as every barrister in robes is by reason of his profession entitled to admission to the court, barristers overflow from the seats reserved for the Bar and crowd the Press benches and the witnesses terribly, and far too many tickets are invariably distributed to members of the detective force in plain clothes who become “journalists” for the occasion. The public who have no particular privileges are admitted to a small space at the back of the court, through a small door in the Palace of Justice which is set apart for the purpose. [Pg 292]

In the trial of Madame Steinheil long queues waited all night for admission to this small enclosure, although the hundreds who waited knew beforehand that very few of them would get in, and in the Caillaux case we are likely to see similar strings of well dressed society folk subjecting themselves to the hardships of waiting all night in the streets for a few hours’ sensation. The assize court is presided over by the President and two assistant judges. These three men in all the medi?val glories of their red robes and quaint brimless caps, trimmed with ermine, sit at a long table on a platform at the upper end. The court-room is a long parallelogram with beautiful dark oak panelling and ugly green paper above it. The top half of the room, which is reserved for the court, the table with the pièces à conviction (Madame Caillaux’s revolver, for instance), the jury, and the Bar, behind which is the dock, is divided from the lower half of the room where the witnesses, the Press, and the public sit or stand, by an oaken barrier with a gate in the middle of it. Immediately in front of [Pg 293] this gate, plumb in the centre and facing the table at which the judges sit, is the bar to which witnesses are called. Witnesses, after they have given evidence, go and sit on the seats beyond the barrier till the end of the trial. A witness stands facing the judge, and has on his immediate right the prisoner’s lawyers and above them the dock in which the prisoner stands. This dock has no door leading into the body of the court. The only entrance to it or exit from it is a door leading out to a room and the passage which conducts to the stairway leading down to the dep?t or prison in the Palace of Justice. To the witness’s left is the box with the jury, and on a level with the judge’s bench and with the jury’s box is the desk occupied by the Public Prosecutor, who wears the same imposing red, ermine-trimmed robes as those worn by the judges, and who prosecutes on behalf of the Government of France. As a matter of fact, however, in every French criminal trial there are two prosecutors. The French criminal system considers this right, but to any foreigner who has been present at a trial in France it must appear anything but that. For the presiding judge in a French trial is really [Pg 294] a prosecutor as well. Before the case comes into court he has spent many hours over the opinion provided for him, in a lengthy document with countless appendices of evidence, by the examining magistrate, and from the very start of the trial the presiding judge takes the lead in the examination of the prisoner.

I was present in the Paris Court of Assizes throughout the Steinheil trial, and I shall always remember the painful impression which was made on me then by the judge’s methods. I remember now the picture I saw of the eager little woman, dressed in black, pleading, protesting, discussing, admitting and contradicting by turn, and of the man in his judge’s robes who argued hotly with her, told her, downright, time after time that she was guilty of the crime for which she was on trial, thundered out accusations, tried to wheedle her into damaging admissions, and thundered out the statement that she was not telling the truth. The judge in a French trial is not only a prosecuting counsel—he is rather a brutal one at that. Any impartial onlooker, if he be not a Frenchman, and be not therefore accustomed to the methods [Pg 295] of the French court, cannot help realizing that the judge uses his power and his prestige as Brennus used his sword, and frequently hurls it into the scales of justice to the detriment of the prisoner. On the other hand, a French judge, who is enjoined by law on his honour and his conscience to use his best efforts to bring out truth at the trial, undoubtedly does so within the limits of human possibility.

But the work which a French judge has to do at a criminal trial is more than any one man should be allowed to do, for no man can both judge and prosecute. To begin with, his own opinion has been prejudiced, must have been prejudiced, by the opinion of the examining magistrate, which, whether he will or not, has influenced him. He examines all the witnesses, he examines the prisoner, and he cross-examines them. On the other hand he is forbidden to discuss the arguments after the counsel’s speeches, either for the prosecution or for the defence (if he did so the whole proceedings would be void), and he does not sum up as an English judge is allowed to sum up. But the French judge in a criminal [Pg 296] trial sums up at the beginning of the trial instead of after it. He has made a complete study of the dossier, which is to all intents and purposes a complete study of the brief for the prosecution and of the brief for the defence, he tells the jury the whole story of the crime with which the prisoner is charged, and tells them the facts on which the prosecution and the defence rely. The judge tells the jury, before it is given, of the evidence which will be called in support of the prosecution, and of the evidence which will be called by the defence in answer to it. He goes the length of explaining why the prosecution believes the prisoner to be guilty, and explains the facts and deductions on which prisoner’s counsel base their defence.

The amount of apparently irrelevant argument which is permitted in a French criminal trial is enormous. The code does not allow it, for by Article 270 the presiding judge is ordered to exclude from the hearing anything that will prolong the trial without adding to the certainty of the result. In any trial which has aroused general interest this article of the code usually becomes a dead letter. The judge himself, [Pg 297] the Public Prosecutor, the prisoner’s counsel, the prisoner and the witnesses are all allowed immense latitude, are all encouraged to say all that they care to say at enormous length. The only people in court who do not talk are the members of the jury, and from the very beginning of the trial these men go to their homes every night, discuss the case with their friends and their wives, and read the newspapers daily, and the newspaper comment on the case which they are trying. Jurymen are not necessarily possessed of legal minds, and under such circumstances how can twelve ordinary men, however hon............