costermonger and the coalheaver, and leave the
case of the small clerk and the well-to-do
journeyman for future consideration.

EXAMINE THE PRISONER!

WHEN Mr. Jonathan Wild and Monsieur
Robert Macaire are placed in the dock in their
respective countries, on trial—the one, say for
downright "murder," or for "burglariously
breaking and entering certain premises;" the
other, for murder too—there is a very remarkable
difference in the manner in which the two gentlemen
are dealt with during the investigation.
Mr. Wild, though actually present, is, practically,
no more than a mere stock or stone, or caput
mortuum; and for any assistance that his
presence affords to the inquiry, he might as well
be in the prison-yard or condemned cell. He
is stolidly ignored; he is spoken of persistently,
as though he were absent; motives are assigned
for his actions; his course of conduct is
derived from pure speculation, as though he were
a hundred miles away; efforts are made to
reason out what was passing in his mind at a
particular moment. In short, an unaccountable
fiction is kept up that he who is present, is
absent.

M. Macaire, on the contrary, placed between
two gendarmes, is the very essence of vitality.
He is the centre actor of the whole piece.
M. le Premier Président is always asking him
questions, and he himself is always answering
those questions, or making little speeches, or
interrupting witnesses, or being interrupted.
Sometimes, indeed, he grows hot and violent,
and gets into personal altercation with M. le
Premier Président, with the result of being
dragged a little roughly from the room by his
two gendarmes. But, on the whole, it is
certain that M. Macaire is regularly tried as M.
Macaire, and that he has such a trial as could
not take place in the absence of M. Macaire;
whereas, the other gentleman, his fellow-creature
in misfortune, Mr. Wild, is merely a puppet
on trial, ornamenting the vacuity of the
dock.

This is rather a curious difference, and the
result is no less curious. This opposite treatment
in our country arises from a certain sacredness
with which the character of criminal is
invested. That every man is presumed innocent
until proved to be guilty, is the grand maxim:
which is yet developed further, into Every guilty
man is presumed innocent, until his neighbour
shall prove him guilty. The law watches over
him tenderly and affectionately, checks him if
he would speak, pretends not to hear him if
he has spoken, sets him free if he has been
adroit enough to commit his crime in the
absence of witnesses, or what may be called the
dumb testimony of circumstances.

With M. Macaire, on the contrary, there is
no such tenderness. At every damning piece of
evidence the president asks him, "Accused,
what do you say to that?" If accused be
innocent, he will thankfully accept the opportunity,
and will probably give a satisfactory
explanation. If he be guilty, and the statement
be really embarrassing, he will invent
a lie on the spot, which will be inconsistent
with some other part of his statement, and will
have the effect of entangling him still further.
He will be allowed, eventually, to explain whatever
share he took in the transaction. On
the supposition of M. Macaire's being innocent,
such a statement, however unsupported, will be
satisfactory so far as it goes; and, if it be fair
and candid and straightforward, will be very
welcome to a jury. If he be guilty, such a
statement must necessarily be an artificial view
of the case, and being sure to be full of
contradiction, will only become a further proof of
guilt.

It being notorious that a large per-centage of
criminals escape justice through the working of
this too lenient rule, thinking men have latterly
turned their attention to the question, and it
has been seriously discussed whether the French
system might not be introduced into England
with advantage. The objections are, of course,
old platitudes, based on the maxim just given,
that The law presumes every man innocent
until proved guilty: that it is better that ninety-
nine guilty men should escape than that one
innocent man should be punished; with a final
appeal to that spirit of British fair play and
liberty of subject which is imperishably planted
in every Briton's heart. Finally, it would be
subversive of the grand spirit and practice of
British law, bequeathed to us by our forefathers,
and imperishably, &c. &c.

Without controverting these noble sentiments,
it may be said, in the first place, that so perfect
are the arrangements, so accurate the investigations,
which precede a trial, that, practically
speaking, an innocent person is very rarely
placed in the dock. Or, if he be so placed, he
is still more rarely found guilty. We must,
therefore, amend the noble sentiment given
above. No guilty person is presumed to be
guilty until he be proved to be so by the testimony
of others.

The "perfection of human wisdom" is,
however, full of inconsistency. It will shut its ears
carefully to any verbal explanation Mr. Wild
may wish to offer, and yet, at the same time,
will send policemen to rifle Mr. Wild's trunks,
drawers, letters, and written diaries. These
private memorials of Mr. Wild, as strictly
personal to Mr. Wild as any parole statement he
might make, there is no scruple of using against
him. Also, the police-officer who arrests Mr.
Wild, will caution him in an unintelligible
formula, that any statement he may make will be
used in evidence against him. Thus, if Mr.
Wild in a fit of honest indignation blurt out
some admission damaging to his interest, that
is carefully registered and reproduced on his
trial.

Formerly the self-same objections were made
against the introduction of personal evidence in
civil trials: until eighteen hundred and fifty
no plaintiff or defendant could be examined.