Reminiscences of Prince Talleyrand, Volume 2 (of 2)

by active 19th century M. Colmache

Is this a wise institution? Is it beneficial to the country? I would answer in the affirmative. But these points are not for me to determine. The Charter has decreed, and that is sufficient.

Now, in what does this extraordinary tribunal resemble the ordinary tribunals? Can it be tied down to the same forms of procedure? I find that the law—the faithful guardian of the interests of society, whilst it declares that crime must not escape punishment, is, nevertheless, more watchful in protecting the innocent than in punishing the guilty. It has therefore wisely established hierarchical degrees in the judiciary organization. It separates the accusation from the judgment, and even after judgment the condemned is empowered to appeal for its annulment, if, in the long course of proceedings, a single one of the prescribed tutelary forms shall have been violated or disavowed.

But in the Court of Peers there are no hierarchic degrees; there is not, and cannot be, a chamber of accusation distinct from the court of judgment, where the accusers are themselves the judges. When the Court of Peers has pronounced, the condemned party has no appeal, either on the score of form or fact. The mercy of the king alone can save him. The justice of the Court of Peers is one and indivisible; its action is prompt and irreformable, and against its decisions there is no appeal. It must not be supposed that public feeling rises in alarm against a tribunal which, by its inflexible rapidity, promptly terminates the most important affairs. On the contrary, innocence will always appeal for its protection, and guilt itself will seek refuge in the august sanctuary. The reason is, that the guarantee afforded by the tardy forms of the ordinary courts, is abundantly atoned for by the vast number of the judges in the Court of Peers—by the importance attached to their elevated position—and by the sort of religious awe which takes possession of them, when, at distant intervals, the law calls them from the peaceful habits of their lives, and arms them with the sword of justice.

Thus it is shown that ordinary justice is hierarchical and successive, whilst, that of the Peers is indivisible and instantaneous. Ordinary justice, by reason of its hierarchical character, is susceptible of change both in its nature and in its forms; the justice of the Peers, inasmuch as it is indivisible, is incapable of change.

But this is not the only difference existing between ordinary justice and that which the Charter has confided to our administration. The course of ordinary justice commences in secrecy and ends in publicity. Over the proceedings of the Court of Peers publicity presides, from their commencement to their close.

When ordinary justice conceives suspicions against a private individual, it silently takes measures for repressing the crime or the offence. Even in cases in which it is deemed necessary to deprive the accused of his liberty, the accusation may remain a secret between the magistrate and the accused. Should the suspicion prove unfounded, and the accused be restored to liberty by the Chamber of Accusation, (the first degree in the judicial hierarchy,) that liberation sufficiently repairs the injury sustained by personal honour in the sphere of society to which the accused belongs. But, gentlemen, is it so when the Peers are called upon to render justice in the case of any one of those accused persons whom the law consigns to their judgment? Is not a discussion in the Chamber of Peers an important event in itself? Does not the matter to which it refers immediately become the subject of general conversation? and, if the names compromised should include those of men whose services to the State have long rendered them objects of public esteem, or even of national pride, what a sensation is excited! what conjectures are afloat! what a fine field is opened for calumny, for the outpourings of envy, hatred, and every vile passion! And, in the face of all this, are we to acquit clandestinely and without publicity, our colleagues, so injuriously compromised; and, by a silent absolution, to deprive them of the atonement they are entitled to expect from your courageous and just impartiality?

A serious affair has been submitted to our deliberation by the crown. Our duty is to judge it as a Court of Peers. In this chamber accusations have been uttered, more or less grave. We cannot forget that the names of several noble Peers have, from base motives, been compromised in this affair. It is our duty to render them full and complete justice. By what means shall we do so?

In my endeavours to solve this question, I had almost arrived at the conclusion, that the proper course would be to arraign the accused before the court, to hear the sentence pronounced on them. But further consideration soon convinced me that we had entered on a mistaken and perilous course, and that our first duty is to end the scandalous controversy, in which virtue and honour have been exposed to the vilest attacks. What, in reality, is the question at issue? Great errors have been committed. French treasure has been improvidently wasted. But improvidence cannot be made amenable to the law. On looking over the list of the accused, I perceive only the names of men more or less obscure, suspected of acts more or less mean and contemptible—acts for the commission of which war ever has and ever will afford ample opportunity.

Three hundred millions have been expended in the Spanish war. Of that enormous sum scarcely the sixth part has been absorbed by the victorious army; and yet, inconceivable as it may appear, that army has been made to bear the whole responsibility.

However painful the recollection, it is nevertheless necessary to bear in mind the dismay which prevailed throughout Paris when, shortly after the departure of the Prince Generalissimo, the Moniteur officially announced the existence of a military conspiracy. The nucleus of that conspiracy was alleged to be in the Staff of His Royal Highness. But the descendant of Henry IV. was not intimidated; he showed that he could trust to the honour of French officers, and victory was the reward of his confidence. Thus were the intrigues of the past defeated; and in like manner will be thwarted the intrigues of the present. All has been intrigue throughout this affair. It has already occupied too much of our attention; and it were to be wished that we should never hear more of it either in the Chamber of Peers or in any other court. I can vote only for the full and complete acquittal of all the accused, and I recommend that the verdict be accompanied by the declaration that our colleagues have forfeited none of our esteem.