Part 6 (1/2)
In the Steinheil case in the same month and year, the jury's verdict involved (1) that no one had been a.s.sa.s.sinated in the Steinheils' house, and (2) that Mme Steinheil was not the daughter of Mme j.a.py. If a verdict were a judgment this would have put an end to all attempts to discover the a.s.sa.s.sins of M. Steinheil and Mme j.a.py, and on the other hand there would have been terrible social complications.
But the verdict of a jury is not a judgment. Why? Because the legislator foresaw the alarming absurdity of verdicts. It is presumed in law that all juries' verdicts are absurd, and experience proves that this is often the case. Juries' verdicts always seem to have been decided by lot like those of the famous judge in Rabelais, and it is proverbial at the law courts that it is impossible to foresee the issue of any case that comes before a jury. It looks as if the jury reasoned thus: ”I am a chance judge, and it is only right that my judgment should be dictated by chance.”
Voltaire was in favour of the jury system, princ.i.p.ally because he had such a very low opinion of the magistrates of his day, whom he used to compare to Busiris. But, with his usual inconsequence, he takes no pains to conceal the fact that the populations of Abbeville and its neighbourhood were unanimously exasperated against La Barre and D'Etalonde, and the people of Toulouse against Calas, and all of them would have been condemned by juries summoned from those districts as surely as they were by the magisterial Busiris.
The jury system is nothing but a refined example of the cult of incompetence. Society, having to defend itself against thieves and murderers, lays the duty of defending it on some of its citizens, and arms them with the weapon of the law. Unfortunately it chooses for the purpose citizens who do not know how to use the weapon. It then fondly imagines that it is adequately protected. The jury is like an unskilled gladiator entangled in the meshes of his own net.
I need hardly say that democracy with its usual pertinacity is now trying to reduce the jury a step lower, and draw it from the lower instead of the lower middle cla.s.ses. I see no harm in this myself, for in the matter of law the ignorance and inexperience of the lower middle cla.s.s and the ignorance of the working cla.s.s are much the same. I have only mentioned it to show the tendency of democracy towards what is presumably greater incompetence.
Now comes the turn of the _juges de paix_. At present we still have _juges de paix_. Here we have a most interesting example of the way democracy strives after incompetence in matters judicial.
Owing to the expense entailed by an appeal the jurisdiction of a _juge de paix_ is very often final. He ought to be an instructed person with some knowledge of law and jurisprudence. He is therefore usually chosen from men who have a degree in law or from lawyers' clerks who have a certificate of ability. To be quite honest this is but a feeble guarantee.
By the law of July 12th, 1905, the French Senate, anxious to find men of still grosser incompetence, decided that _juges de paix_ might be nominated from those, who, not having the required degree or certificate, had occupied the posts of mayor, deputy-mayor or councillor for ten years.
The object of this decision was the very honest and legitimate one of giving senators and deputies the opportunity of rewarding the electoral services of the village mayors and their a.s.sistants. And remember senators especially are nominated by these officials. Further it was an opportunity not to be missed for applying our principle--and our principle is this: we ask, where is absolute incompetence to be found, for to him who can lay indisputable claim to it we must confide authority.
Now mayors and their a.s.sistants answer this description exactly. They must be able to sign their names, but they are not obliged to know how to read, and eighty per cent. of them are totally illiterate. Their work is done for them very usually by the local schoolmaster. The Senate, therefore, was quite sure of finding among them men absolutely incompetent for the post of _juge de paix_, and it has found what it wanted. Incompetence so colossal deserved an appointment, and an appointment has been given to it.
The magistrature and the powers that be, seem to have been somewhat disturbed by certain consequences of this highly democratic inst.i.tution.
M. Barthou, the Minister of Justice, complained bitterly of the work which this new inst.i.tution caused him. He made the following speech in the Chamber of Deputies: ”We are here to tell each other the truth, and, with all the due moderation and prudence that is fitting, I feel it my duty to warn the chamber against the results of the law of 1905. At the present moment I am besieged with applications for the post of _juge de paix_. I need hardly mention that there are some 9,000 of them in my office, because a certain number are not eligible for consideration, but there are in round numbers 5,500 applications which are recommended and examined.” (What he means to say is, that these are examined because they have been recommended, for, as is only right, those that are not backed by some political personage are not looked at.) ”As the average annual number of vacancies is a hundred and eighty, you will readily see what a quandary I am in. Some of these applications are made with the most extraordinary persistency, I might even call it ferocity, and these invariably come from men who have held the office of mayor or deputy-mayor for ten years, often in the most insignificant places.”
The Minister of Justice then read a report made on the subject by a _procureur-general_.
”In this department there are forty-seven _juges de paix_, twenty of whom, as I learn from an enquiry, were mayors at the time of their appointment. It is not to be wondered at that the number of provincial magnates who aspire to the post is on the increase, for it seems to be generally recognised in this department that elective office irrespective of all professional apt.i.tude is the normal means of access to a paid appointment, more especially to that of _juge de paix_. Once they are appointed, the mayors combine both their munic.i.p.al and judicial duties, and their interests lie far more in the commune which they administer than in the district in which they dispense justice and which, without permission, they should never leave. Sometimes these district magistrates will go to any length to obtain moral support from the politicians of the neighbourhood. They extort this as a sort of blackmail given in exchange for the electoral influence which they can bring to bear in their munic.i.p.al capacity. They attach far less importance to being quashed by the bench, than to the eventual support of the deputy. Those who come into their courts are the unfortunate victims of these compromising arrangements which are giving the Republican system a bad name.”
I think the Minister of Justice and his _procureur-general_ have very little ground for these lamentations. After all the minister only complains of having 9,000 applications for office. It would surely be quite easy for him, in compliance with the generally recognised principle, to choose those whose incompetence seems to be most thorough, or those who are most influentially supported, according to the prevailing custom.
As for the _procureur-general's_ sarcasms, which he thinks so witty, they are quite delightfully diverting and ingenuous. ”It seems to be generally recognised that elective office, irrespective of all professional apt.i.tude, is the normal means of access to a paid appointment.” What else does he expect? It is eminently democratic that the marked absence of professional capacity should single a man out for employment. That is the very spirit of democracy. He surely does not think that a man is an elector by reason of his legislative and administrative capacity?
It is likewise essentially democratic that elective office should lead to paid appointments, for the democratic theory is that all office, paid and unpaid, should be elective. Why, this _procureur-general_ must be an aristocrat!
As for the mutual services rendered by the justice, as mayor, to the deputy, and by the deputy to the justice, this is democracy pure and simple. The deputies distribute favours that they may be returned to power; the influential electors put all their interest, both personal and official, at the service of the deputies in order to obtain those favours. They are hand in glove with each other, and form a solid union of interests.
What more does the _procureur-general_ want? Does he want a different system? If he wants another system, whatever else it may be, it will not be democracy, or at least it will not be a democratic democracy. Nor have I any idea what he means when he says the Republican system will get a bad name. The good name of the Republic depends upon its putting into practice every democratic principle; and democratic principles have certainly never been more precisely realised than in the preceding example, which I have had great pleasure in rescuing from oblivion and presenting to the notice of sociologists.
CHAPTER VIII.
EXAMPLES OF INCOMPETENCE.
I have already compared this, our desire to wors.h.i.+p incompetence, to an infectious disease. It has attacked the State at the very core, in its const.i.tution, and it is not surprising that it is spreading rapidly to the customs and to the morals of the country.
The stage, we know, is an imitation of life. Life also, to perhaps an even greater extent, is an imitation of the stage. Similarly laws spring from morals, and morals spring from law. ”Men are governed by many things,” said Montesquieu, ”by climate, religion, laws, precept, example, morals and manners, which act and react upon each other and all combine to form a general temperament.”
Morals, more often than not, determine the nature of our laws, particularly in a democracy, which is deplorable, but Montesquieu was right in saying: ”Morals take their colour from laws, and manners from morals,” for laws certainly ”help to form morals, manners” and even ”national character.” For instance in Rome under the Empire the code of morals was to some extent the result of arbitrary power, as to-day the moral character of the English is to some extent due to the laws and const.i.tution of their country.
We know that by his laws Peter the Great changed if not the character at least the manners and customs of his people.
Custom is the offspring of law, and morals are the offspring of custom.
National character is not really changed, for character, I believe, is a thing incapable of change, but it appears to be changed, and it certainly undergoes some modifications; one set of tendencies is checked, while others are encouraged.