The process of arrest and treatment at the _violon_ has been graphically described by one who has been through it. “As soon as my name had been inscribed on the register, the brigadier in charge promptly ordered me to empty my pockets, and not to forget anything. After this, to make quite sure, I was personally searched, and everything of value, and much that was not, was taken from me; my collar, my necktie, one cigar, my penknife, watch, purse and even my braces, were all put into my pocket handkerchief and tied up. As they were taking me away to the cell I begged that my braces and pocket handkerchief might be returned. The rude answer was, ‘You must hold up your trousers with your hand, and blow your nose as best you can. That’s enough;’ and I was very summarily locked up in one of three cells at the end of the passage; a dirty looking place, smelling like a rabbit hole, and already occupied by a ragged creature, who immediately demanded tobacco; and, on my saying I had none, asked me to stand treat for some food as he had not eaten since the day before. I ordered this out of compassion, and he devoured it voraciously, then went soundly to sleep upon the wooden guard bed. It was bitterly cold, and towards morning my companion, saying that he was half frozen, battered at the door, and asked permission to go out into the large room and warm himself by the stove, a privilege accorded to me also.
“At an early hour the omnibus came, and I was taken to the depot, where I was registered in the outer office, and then passed in to undergo the ordeal of the _petit parquet_, where I was subjected to the interrogations of one of the substitutes of the Procureur of the Republic. The work is done quickly. Time presses. There are many cases to be examined and disposed of.”
The plan of procedure is the same for all. Where the offence is venial the culprit is speedily set at large. Others whose guilt is clearly proved, or who make a clean breast of it, are passed on without a moment’s delay to the correctional police. It is only for those who are charged with grave crimes, with robbery, forgery, murderous assaults, and the like; whose cases are surrounded with doubt, or who obstinately refuse to confess, that the whole machinery of the French law is set in motion. The accused is then handed over to the tender mercies of one of the _juges d’instruction_, in order that, at all costs, the ends of justice may be assured. The examination was conducted until recently in a manner abhorrent to all ideas of fair play. It is the rule in a free country that no man need incriminate himself. In France the accused was fully expected to do so. He was, indeed, forced into it if he would not do it of his own accord. Under the system which prevailed till quite recently the judge in turn cajoled, beguiled and hectored the accused. He set pitfalls and wove snares; he repeated his questions in a dozen different forms; he had recourse to _coups de théâtre_, and openly produced the _piéces de convictions_, the weapons used in a murder to confront a supposed criminal, or brought him face to face with the reeking and revolting remains of the victim. Sometimes judge and accused were fairly matched, and there was as much fence and finesse, as much patient cunning and persistency on the one side as on the other. Sometimes the moral torture was more than the prisoner could bear, and he abandoned his defence. It is of record that a murderer, maddened by the assiduity of the interrogating judge, cried suddenly: “Yes, I did it. I can deny it no longer. I’d rather be guillotined than be bullied like this.” But in most cases the process of investigation ordinarily extended over many days. The prisoner was brought up again and again before he was finally arraigned. Even then there was a further delay before he was convicted and received sentence. All this time he spent at Mazas, the old _maison d’arrêt cellulaire_. He now goes, after sentence, to Fresnes, on the outskirts of Paris, the imposing prison recently erected to replace Mazas.