I cannot doubt that by now my innocence is established in the eyes of the reader; I even venture to believe that I may have won his, or her, sympathy. In this long statement of facts I have all through based my remarks on documents, and those documents are, of course, undeniable.
But my own vindication and full rehabilitation were not my sole objects. Others have suffered, and are suffering, as I have suffered; others may suffer and will suffer so long as certain methods remain in use in France, so long as certain French prisons remain what they are, and certain examining magistrates are allowed to deal with prisoners as one of them did with me; so long as the procedure at trials for murder remains what it is; lastly, so long as a law making Contempt of Court a grave offence is not passed in the country from which I come, and which I love passionately.
I have described Saint-Lazare: the sooner that dilapidated, insanitary prison, with its poisoned atmosphere—poisoned in every sense of the term—is pulled down, the better.
I have described my Instruction: the sooner such "examinations" become public; the sooner examining magistrates are forbidden to have preconceived ideas about the guilt of the accused persons who are brought before them, and the sooner they are forbidden to threaten, intimidate, bully, and torture them to gain their doubtful ends—the better.
I have described at length my 353 days in prison: the sooner the French law realises that it has no right to keep a human being who is supposed to have or is suspected of having committed a crime, within the four walls of a cell for months and months, awaiting his or her trial—the better.
I have described my eleven days' trial—my eleven days' agony—for after nearly a year in prison a human being is nothing but a lump of suffering flesh and nerves: the sooner the procedure is altered, the sooner the judge's interrogatory —inevitably partial and misleading—is suppressed, the sooner an overwhelmingly more important part is given to the cross-examination of the prisoner and all the witnesses, and the sooner the jury at a trial for murder is kept together and prevented, as it is in England, from having any communication with the outside world—the better.
I have described the amazing part the French Press—or rather a section of it—played in the "Impasse Ronsin affair," how it roused Public Opinion against me, and used the worst conceivable methods of coercion and intimidation, how it made my life and that of my daughter an unendurable martyrdom: the sooner the French Press is forbidden to assume the role of so-called Justice, to publish the most indiscriminating, arbitrary, imaginary, and damaging articles against beings who are merely "accused," and this not only before, but actually during the trial of those beings—the better.
Let the reader ponder, if only for one moment, over these facts, for instance: day after day, during my trial, a number of newspapers published long articles in which I was clearly and emphatically treated as a murderess, as a "Red Widow," as a "Black Panther"! Day by day, the twelve men who were to decide my fate—and indirectly that of my daughter—went home after the hearings in the Court of Assize: they discussed the trial, my attitude, the evidence of the witnesses, the questions asked of me, and the answers I made to those questions, with their wives and their friends; they went to their cafés, where they talked and listened; they read the newspapers, and the next morning, before going into Court they talked and listened again, read the morning papers, and were once more exposed to influences.
I do not for one moment believe that French jurors allow their consciences to be misled in matters of life and death—and I have had a splendid proof of this, since the jury acquitted me—but, is it stretching probabilities to admit that, among the twelve members of a jury, one may be influenced by what he hears or reads, and in his turn influence his colleagues at the solemn pregnant hour, when they are sent to a room to deliberate over the fate of a human being?
That this book may prove useful to others is my most fervent wish.