A true Parisian that holds himself worthy keeps contacts with the criminal court, in order to be admitted to the big legal proceedings. It’s thought of to be “in” to spend the whole day at the entrance hall of the Justice palace, instead of smiling and chitchatting in the Boulevards, the Salons, or Boudoirs. In the waiting room, with his empty steps, the young women and men wait with persistence for the admission to the sensational trials. Especially if a head of an important person is at stake, or the airing of dirty laundry. One has to experience the way of ogling, toying, and flirting of the sweetest girls, so that the white bearded Major will have mercy and give them access to the confined smelly spaces. They will stay for hours and wait for a scandal or the excitement of a court drama. It is always amusing, when it comes to the honor, liberty or head of a person. There is a funny contrast between the measured ceremonies and the jokes of the audience. There are always pranksters between the onlookers. Every word between the judge and the lawyers is caught and turned into cheerfulness. Each incident becomes a brilliant remark which gets lost like the steps outside the hall. When the 12 French men of the jury box finally retreat to the consulting room, one forgets food and drink and waits in wonderful tension for their decision.
The same is probably happening right now in the fortress of Justice, on the shore of the Seine, where a single person challenges the institutions of his country by bravely sitting on the bench of the accused. From a distance it seems more pathetic then in reality. In a French trial there are always a few jokers which don’t let the seriousness of the case rise. It is in the character of the Parisians to have a perpetual tendency for jokes and merry-making. When the festivities reach their climax, the turn into foolishness seems to be the nearest. Not that the tools for a great atmosphere are lacking, a French courtroom is richer endowed the any other in the world.