course, as the best way out of the difficulty. I did so, and kept the appointment. We had an excellent breakfast and much general conversation. As I did not refer to the suit, the judge himself introduced the subject. He had examined the papers, understood the questions which the case presented, and took the position of an ad versary, prepared to controvert our right to maintain the action. I declined the discus sion, explained how I was drawn into the situation, and my strong sense of its impro priety. He rather ridiculed my views, and explained why such discussions were not regarded as improper. It was " the theory of the civil law," he said, " that the judge should be able to decide an action in con formity with right' and justice after hearing all that the parties wished to say about it, and that there was no possibility that a judge should be improperly influenced, and that there was sometimes an advantage in having a party state his own case." I still persisted that I should leave the argument of our case to the avocat, the conversation turned to other topics, and we had a pleasant interview. The observations of the judge explained why the judges received hearsay, everything which the parties offered as evidence, with out objection. It was the theory of the civil law that the judges would be able to separate the wheat from the chaff, and that irrelevant testimony could do no harm, as they would consider nothing which had not a legitimate bearing upon the issues. This theory was well enough, but the final decision in our case did not support it. The trial came on; our property in the trade mark was substantially admitted — the in feriority of the French counterfeit to the American machine was clearly proved. Our case seemed to be clear, but the judgment of the court was against the foreigner and in favor of the French pirate, or as the judges called him, the French ouvrier. There was a French patent upon one part of the machine protected by the trade-mark.
The law of France for the protection of the French workmen required that patented machines must be manufactured in France. Our client had established a factory in Paris, in which many thousands of these machines had been made. The hook referred to was of an irregular and peculiar shape, which could not be well shown in a drawing. Under the advice of counsel, that it in volved no violation of the French law, our client had imported one of these hooks through the Custom-House to serve as a pattern. As soon as another hook could be made, and within forty-eight hours, the im ported hook was exported and sent to the United States. There was no doubt about its identity, or the fact of its exportation, but the French court decided that the bring ing of this hook into France, and its use as a pattern, was such a violation of the law of France as forfeited not only the right to the trade-mark, but also all rights secured by the letters-patent; and that the French pi rates could use the trade-mark, and impose a worthless manufacture as the genuine upon the French public with impunity. Our action was therefore dismissed with costs. With this experience in French justice my client was satisfied; it never went after any more, and I have never since advised an American to attempt to enforce his pat ent or trade-mark in France. This same ex perience brought to my mind an incident in Charles Reade's novel " Hard Cash" : Captain Fullalove, the former master of a merchant ship, had undertaken to educate and develop the intellect of a colored bro ther named Vespasian. As they were pass ing Westminster Hall, the captain pointed to the venerable pile, and observed to his pupil, "There's where you can buy British justice. It comes high, but it's prime!" While I agree with Captain Fullalove, I might make a similar observation about the Palais de Justice, with an amendment: "There 's where you get French justice. It comes high, and it is not prime! "
