ormation I can glean
and from what I can remember hearing at the time, is absolutely true and
a perfect illustration of thousands of similar cases.

A poacher, aged nineteen, first outraged and then strangled in the woods
a peasant woman, the mother of a family. On this occasion there could be
no question of a miscarriage of justice or even of any suggestion of
such a thing, because the prisoner pleaded guilty. That is a great
point. In France every conviction that is not based upon the prisoner's
confession is a miscarriage of justice; but when the prisoner pleads
guilty there can be no incriminations of this sort, although there might
be, for false confessions are not unknown, but nothing of the sort is
ever put forward, and the case seemed to be quite straightforward.

But the magistrates were terrified that the prisoner would be condemned
to death. The crime was horrible, particularly in the eyes of a village
jury, whose wives and daughters were often obliged to work some distance
from the village. Moreover, there was a tiresome man, the widower of the
victim, thirsting for vengeance, who sang the praises of his wife and
brought his weeping son into court while he gave his evidence. The
president and the public prosecutor were in despair.

"I have done all I can," said the president to the public prosecutor. "I
have made the most of his youth. I have repeated 'only nineteen years of
age.' I have indeed done all I can."

"I have done all I can," said the public prosecutor to the president. "I
have not said a word about the punishment. I merely accused. I could not
plead for the defence. I have done my best."

At the close of the hearing the chief constable was very reassuring to
these gentlemen. "He is under twenty and he looked so respectable at
the enquiry. It is quite impossible that he should be condemned to death
in this quiet village. You will see, he will not be sentenced to capital
punishment."

He was not. The jury brought in a verdict of guilty with extenuating
circumstances. The magistrates recovered their tranquillity.

M. Lestranger's facts are supported by figures. Those who commit crimes
which excite pity, such as infanticide and abortion, are less and less
likely to be prosecuted, and if they are, they are frequently let off,
however flagrant the offence. The average number of acquittals during
the last twelve years is twenty-six per cent. A magistrate nowadays is a
St. Francis of Assize.

Ei