something of sadness. It is given to those tribunals before which is arraigned the crime of France. It recalls incests, and parricides, and all dark deeds in a number and atrocity that have no parallel. Of these courts there are eighty-six in the kingdom. As already stated, they are organized out of the royal courts, three or four judges being selected therefrom to perform the duties. An attendance upon them will, to the philosophical observer, lay far more widely open than any other single agent can do, one of the moral aspects of France. At the time I entered, a man was on the prisoners' bench, accused of the murder of his wife. The witnesses were all questioned by the judge. Their examination was not in the presence of each other. One feature in this part of the proceedings I was pleased with. After each witness had made his declaration, the judge asked the prisoner if he had any thing to say respecting that testimony. Whereupon the accused, if he pleased, arose, and either contradicted, or confirmed, or explained it. The judge listened patiently, pointing out familiarly any contradictions, and sometimes even argued the matter with the prisoner. I am sure, that in several instances explanations of the accused threw an illumination over passages that otherwise would have remained dark and inexplicable. The testimony having been heard, the jury were, -by the officer of the government and the prisoner's counsel, addressed. These are the only courts of the kingdom in which juries are known. Their number is twelve, of whom seven are sufficient to convict an offender. In this case their verdict was Guilty, "mais avec des circonstances attenuantes." Now, under this mais is contained a very important qualification. When a jury find an accused guilty, but with "extenuating circumstances," the court has no right to deliver the culprit over to the penalty which the law has made a consequence of his act; they are bound to sentence him to some punishment less severe. How much less severe, lies within the discretion of the judge. Leaving this tribunal, I returned to the Salle des pas-perdus, and reading upon a door, over which was a winged figure, in bas relief, of Justice with her scales" Cour de Cassation," I entered, and found myself in a circular antiroom. Here my companion paused to give me a few words of information about the court I was soon to visit. "Its origin," said he, "goes no farther back than 1790. It is the highest tribunal in France. It is composed of a premier president, three presidents, and forty-five judges, appointed for life by the king. To it belong one procureur general du roi, six general advocates, a chief clerk, and four deputies, eight bailiffs, three interpreters of foreign languages; and in it a college of sixty advocates has the exclusive right to practise." "Another in stance," interrupted I, " of vast machinery in your judicial organization.” "Yes," replied he; "our system, though simple to comprehend, demands for its service a large quantity of heads and hands. We have nearly four thousand judges and about three thousand justices of the peace. The system, however, works pretty well. We find it far preferable to the bailliages and the parlemens which existed previously to the great Revolution. Nor do we pay very high salaries. Our lowest officers, justices of the peace, receive 2400 francs per annum; and our highest, the judges of the Cour de Cassation, but 15000. The presidents receive each 20,000 francs, and the premier president 40,000. This court, as I was about to observe," continued he, " does not take cognizance du fond des affaires, but only of cases brought up from inferior jurisdictions, and involving informality, or some misapplication of the law. Elle casse les jugements et arrets. It quashes or breaks judgments, and hence its name. It is divided into three chambers, called Sections of Requests, of civil and of criminal cassation. When these chambers are assembled, they may, among other things, censure the judges of the royal courts, and even suspend them from their functions." I chanced to be now present at one of these general and solemn sessions. The scene was to me not uninteresting. The room is spacious, and most richly gilded and carpeted. Over the chair occupied, when he presides, by the Minister of Justice is a portrait, large as life, of Louis Phillipe. At the opposite end of the apart. ment are two seated statues of D'Aguesseau and L'Hopital, names illustrious in the jurisprudence of France, and on the latter of whom I had very recently heard an admirable eulogy. This room is that in which were held the parlemens of Paris from the time of St. Louis till the Revolution of '89. Before me, ranged around one half the large apartment, were forty-five judges. Each was clad in a black robe of silk, with a wide crimson sash encircling his breast, whose down-hanging extremities were adorned with golden tassels, and over all was thrown a large red mantle, richly embroidered. Some in their velvet caps looked senatorial, some half-slumbered, and some occasionally exchanged whispers. I heard a faint, monotonous voice. It came from an individual at the farther end of the room, almost concealed in folds of particolored ermine, with a toque encircled by two golden bands upon his head, and a large star, the badge of the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor, suspended from his left breast. He was flanked by three venerable men in similar costume. This was Count Portalis, peer of France, and premier president of the Cour de Cassation. He was reading a report. When he had concluded, he descended into the open space, assembled VOL. X. 15 around him one half the judges, asked their judgment for or against the principles advocated in the report just read, and then called up. on the remaining half for a similar purpose. This body, of which many were peers of the realm, and all of whom were eminent in the law, impressed me by their elevated bearing and their amiable and intellectual expressions. The court soon rose. Each section retired to its apartment. I remained with that of criminal cassation. An appeal of interest had been brought up to it. An avocat had, for exceptionable language, been, by the Cour d'Assisses, suspended from his functions for one year. The Cour de Cassation was now to decide upon the justice of that suspension. Mr. Scribe, his defender, having spoken one hour, concluded thus :-"I now close. A voice long dear to all the Bar will soon be heard. That voice has seldom failed. I sincerely hope and trust in God, that on this solemn occasion it will be triumphant." A man aged about fifty arose. There was nothing striking in his features. His forehead was rather low, his eyes small and grayish, and his mouth was any thing but intellectual. This man, nevertheless, was the most profound, the most comprehensive, the most renowned lawyer in all France. It was Charles Dupin, procureur general du roi before this tribunal, and president of the Chamber of Deputies. I heard Dupin for two hours. I compared his with the highest specimens of judicial ora. tory I had heard in my own country. He had not the finished, Corinthian, illuminated eloquence which characterized Wirt, nor yet the Doric massiveness which belongs to the voice, and manner, and thought of Webster. He has, however, something which doubtless subserves his ends far better than either-an elastic and quick vivacity, a fire that seems momently to set his little eyes and countenance in a blaze, with a vigor and nerve in his action which proclaim that there is power within. The man enchains your eye and thought. His voice, however, wants tone. Indeed, uttering a language having so much of the nasal twang about it as the French, I hardly perceive how it could have tone, as that word is understood with us. Those full, round, solemn notes, those rich swells, those impressive cadenzas, which are heard in good pronunciation of the English, I have seldom found in French speakers. Charles Dupin makes use of the same wide and squeaking transitions that charac. terize all the Parisian lawyers whom I have heard. His gesticu. lation, too, is of the common kind. The fingers play their usual conspicuous part. Now and then he smote loudly his hands together; and several times he folded, swiftly and spasmodically, his arms, and as suddenly outthrust them from their fold. The listening Frenchmen liked all this. The crowd to hear the great lawyer was immense. There were several "prolonged sensations." I observed an individual taking frequent notes, continually exclaiming "parfaitement," and bowing his head, in assenting admiration, to every sentence the speaker uttered; and a man at my elbow pronounced it all a most brilliant improvisation. The speech being concluded, the court retired to the council chamber for consultation. I departed to visit the Cour des Comptes, and the adjacent prison of the Conciergerie, a prison sanctified in my imagination by the memory of Marie Antoinette, who passed from its dungeons to her scaffold. The day, however, was too far advanced, and I reserve these visits for some future occasion.. J. J. J. There, ever since that fiery globe hath hung High in blue ether's boundlessness, hath Light Held her fair Court, and, when old Time was young, Four gentle spirits, beautiful and bright ; Two of the softer sex,-the other two Stood forth in manly grace and mauly height, Ready and prompt their sovereign's will to do, To pierce night's darkest shades, or Heaven's own boundless blue. The four primitive colors-violet, blue, yellow, and red. The other three are secondary, being formed by a mixture of some two of the primitive. * Violet. III. The dark-eyed Viola, and fairer still, Flavia the golden haired ;-gentle and pure, The pleasing cares they grieved not to endure;— The subtle tints they sought to grace the pride IV. Rubil and Azurim § their names,-both bold, Active, and free ;-youth's bright and vermeil glow V. Nor was it theirs alone to skim the blue Unbounded sea of space, or deck the seat Of changing color in assemblage sweet;— The sunbeams to the earth,-and, adding heat, VI. So close the union, that the piercing eye Of Genius and Philosophy but late Through glassy bars, three-sided, smooth and straight, VII. Gentle their tasks, and gaily flew their hours,— But brief their bliss, and pitiless the showers The seven prismatic colors, when blended in due proportion, produce white. |