THE SPEECH FOR THE PROSECUTION--THE SPEECH FOR THE DEFENCE
Dusk has fallen. An attendant clicks the switches on, one after the
other, with a sharp, dry sound of rattling bones, and the Court is
flooded with light. That little noise and the sudden light jar my nerves
and hurt me.... I am no longer a normal human being. I do not know, at
times, who I am or where I am, or what is going on around me.... Still,
I know this tall man opposite, and I can read in his bloodshot eyes that
he means to do me all the harm he can. I hold tight to the wooden
partition before me; if I let go, I feel I shall fall.... And I must
not, I will not, fall, at this supreme hour. I think of Marthe....
In a deep, harsh voice, M. Trouard-Riolle begins:
"Gentlemen of the jury, you have sat throughout eight hearings with the
utmost patience. You have heard eighty witnesses. You have heard the
experts. The voluminous dossier has been gone through by the President
exhaustively.... The work and the strain have been truly terrible...."
Now he reviews my life story.... Every fact, every incident, from the
days when I was a little girl of five, is turned and twisted into
something damaging to my cause. Murmurs of disapproval punctuate this
monstrous speech by the Public Prosecutor, but he goes on, implacably;
and as he flings out his accusations as if they were personal attacks,
as if he loathed me and wished the whole world to know it, his eyes
blaze more and more fiercely....
There exist _no proofs whatever_ of my guilt, but, like M. André, M.
Trouard-Riolle is convinced that I am guilty, and this is enough. He is
there to prosecute, to accuse, to call for the heaviest sentence, and he
does so relentlessly, scornfully, wildly. And he seems to enjoy his
"great" task.
He has not spoken for five minutes before he brands me--he is dealing
with my childhood--as a consummate coquette, and a liar!
According to him, the parents of M. Sheffer must have had good reasons
to object to the union of their son with the dangerous Marguerite!...
According to him, I married M. Steinheil because he had distinguished
connections and resided in Paris, and because I was anxious to shine in
society.... "To shine, indeed, has ever been her great ambition, and she
did not stop at anything to achieve her ends!"... Now he deals with my
love-affairs. I am not only a _comédienne_ and a dangerous _liar_, I am
not only an immoral, but a _mercenary_ woman! M. Trouard-Riolle quite
forgets that M. de Valles paid a glowing tribute, a day or two ago, to
my "absolute disinterestedness," and thunders forth that I am a low,
shrewd, calculating business-woman!...
While M. Trouard-Riolle goes on criticising my home-life, I wonder how
_he_ dare judge _me_!... I want to speak, to cry out what I feel, but my
three counsel entreat me once more to be calm, and Maître Aubin, with
that shrewd _bonhomie_ so typical of him, whispers to me: "Let him
blindly accuse you... he is merely making my task easier!"
M. Trouard-Riolle explains that there are two women in "that creature!":
the woman with the musical, enchanting, caressing voice, who conquers
and deceives, and the woman who threatens, attacks, and stops at
nothing.
"The motive of the crime was the anxiety of Mme. Steinheil to make a
rich marriage, because she hated her husband and was in financial
distress," and then comes this dramatic and unexpected declaration:
"Mme. Steinheil has murdered her husband with or without the assistance
of an accomplice. _But that the accusation of matricide it not
sufficiently established...._
_Friday, November 12._ M. Trouard-Riolle continues his speech for the
Prosecution. I have reached the extreme limit of physical and mental
endurance. I breathe with the greatest difficulty, and can hardly open
my eyes. During the night, I have suffered from a terrible nervous
attack, and time after time, doctors have come to my assistance. I
clutch the partition in front of me, but cannot feel it. My senses are
numb, all except my hearing, alas....
M. Trouard-Riolle, speaks, speaks, speaks--his speech lasts altogether
for nearly seven hours.
...There was no struggle, no violence; the whole affair was a sham... he
explains. The lock of the door was not tampered with, and a false key
could not have been used since the real key was found in the lock on the
inside.... Therefore, Mme. Steinheil herself opened the door to admit
her accomplice!... Pay no attention to M. Bdl's. attitude, gentlemen of
the jury... you cannot expect a man who has been a lover of a woman to
give evidence against her.... To clear herself, she accuses people right
and left, anybody and everybody.... Why did she resuscitate a case which
was almost forgotten? On account of M. Bdl's. attitude. Her husband
objected to divorce. She was in financial difficulties. M. Bdl. was
rich.... She killed her husband.... When she accused others of the crime
she committed, she was in a nervous state, and it was the paroxysms of
frenzy due to the pitiless and maddening questions of some journalists
which, she says, caused her to make false accusations.... And yet in
this Court, gentlemen of the jury, you have seen her self-controlled,
fearless, impudent, answering all questions readily, unhesitatingly....
Remember that this woman lies as she breathes....
"... The men in black gowns, the red-haired woman? A fable!... A
political side to the mystery? Nonsense!... Burglary? There was none!...
Why did those who killed M. Steinheil and Mme. Japy not murder Mme.
Steinheil as well? She claims that it is because they took her for her
daughter.... But I say that murderers can be as well recognised by a
girl of sixteen as by a woman of thirty-nine.... In either case they
would have had no pity.... The fact that she was spared proves that she
took part in the crime....
"She was bound so loosely that she could easily have freed herself,
rushed to the window, and shouted for help.... But she had to play a
part, and she did so.... She was ill when they found her the next
morning? Of course she was! Any woman would be upset after having
murdered her husband and witnessed the death of her mother....
"... What extraordinary burglars, gentlemen of the jury. They had
revolvers, but committed the crime with cords and wadding!...
"How did the crime take place? It is quite clear:
"Mme. Steinheil hates her husband and wants to get rid of him because,
on the one hand, there is a husband whom she despises, and, on the
other, a wealthy lover whose wife she aspires to become. She tells
herself that if she is found one night bound, near the body of her
husband, everybody will believe her guilty. Then, with her perfidious
temperament, she summons her mother to Paris to the house in the Impasse
Ronsin, not to kill her, but to have her there as a witness of the
simulated attack. She devises that both her mother and herself are to be
bound.
"Mme. Steinheil goes down and opens the door to a man or woman, but
probably a woman.
"We had not sufficient proof to effect an arrest.... Then Mme. Steinheil
and that woman, or Mme. Steinheil and that man, go upstairs after having
taken the cord in the kitchen. It was not intended to murder Mme. Japy,
but an unforeseen event occurs while she is being fastened and the
wadding forced into her mouth.... M. Steinheil is awakened by her cries,
and the two women, or the woman and the man, rush at him. One holds his
body, the other strangles him. The painter falls dead....
"Meanwhile, Mme. Japy's false teeth have become unfastened, and she died
by suffocation; but, to make sure of her death, they strangled her. At
first I did not believe that Mme. Steinheil was guilty. But now my
conviction is established. If I had had the slightest doubt I would have
told you so, but, on the contrary, I say that the work betrays its
author, and the author is there."
I looked up at M. Trouard-Riolle and see him pointing to me. An
extraordinary incident then occurs: the Advocate-General, turning to the
jury, adds: "She was the author of the crime; and finding some one,
rather a woman than a man, in her more or less immediate _entourage_,
she summoned that woman, or she summoned that man, relying on his or her
silence. If it had been possible for the law to seize the one or the
other, we should have had them arrested. But we do not think we had
enough proofs to know and to say: 'It is this, or that one....'
Gentlemen, you must accept the responsibility of a sentence as I accept
that of accusing, I hand you the sword of justice, trusting that you
will return a verdict both wise and firm."
I am bewildered.... There is a general uproar. The whole court rises....
I can see Mariette gesticulating frantically, at one end of the room. It
is clear that the Advocate-General meant Mariette and Alexandra, her
son.... But both have been called as witnesses, both have been fully
exonerated by M. Leydet and afterwards by M. André. Is all this a
ghastly farce, then!
Maître Aubin rises as if shot up by a spring, and thunders: "You are too
honest, _Monsieur l'Avocat-Général_, not to reply to the question I am
now going to ask you: I wish to know whether in the suggestions you have
just made, you were hinting at Mariette Wolff or her son?"
The court rings with applause; barristers and journalists climb on the
benches and tables. I look at M. Trouard-Riolle.... He does not reply to
my counsel, but makes a wide, evasive gesture, and turns to the
President, who adjourns the sitting....
Hands seize my arms, and helped by the guards, I leave the Court.
_Saturday, November 13th_, 1909, Noon. The final hearing, the end of my
trial; at least, I hope so, as I stumble into the dock assisted by the
guards who softly whisper words of encouragement. The atmosphere is
stifling. I can hardly see, but I can feel that the Court contains far
more people than usual. I sink on to my bench. The President notices
that the foreman of the jury, M. Poupard, is not there, and inquires as
to the cause of his absence. One of the jurors says he has heard that
the foreman is ill. The sitting is adjourned.
1 P.M. I am led back to my bench. M. de Valles reads a telegram from the
absent foreman: "I am ill. Have me replaced. Poupard." Doctor Socquet is
sent to see whether the foreman will soon be well enough to come, and
once more the sitting is adjourned.
2.30 P.M. The bell again. For the third time I enter the dock. The
judges appear. Doctor Socquet says that the foreman was taken ill on the
previous night and is suffering from bronchitis, he is unable to serve
on the jury. A new juror who has been present at all hearings is sworn.
And now dead silence pervades the Court. Mariette walks to the
witnesses' bar: "I have heard," she says, in a loud blunt manner, "that
my son and I have been called murderers.... I demand an apology."
The President answers that she has not been formally designated by the
Advocate-General, declares the incident closed, and tells Mariette to
withdraw.
Maître Aubin rises and begins his speech for the defence.
"Gentlemen of the Court, gentlemen of the jury, after long hesitation,
after scruples and doubts which yesterday he admitted to you, the
Advocate-General has hardened in his conviction of Mme. Steinheil's
guilt."
This is all I hear. There is not one atom of strength left in me. I fall
forward with my head on my hands, which rest on the wooden partition...
and I wait. Three times my counsel's speech is interrupted by
adjournments; three times I am dragged away from my seat to the guards'
room; three times I am dragged back to it, wondering when the
unspeakable agony will end....
As I write, I have before me, the _Plaidoirie_ of Maître Antony Aubin,
extracted from the "Review of Great Contemporary Trials," and I will
quote from it a few pages, those dealing with facts which have not yet
been fully explained to the reader, and also certain passages containing
remarks, which, for reasons that will no doubt appear obvious, I could
not have made myself....
"... I am only seeking the truth. Mme. Steinheil does not altogether
deserve praise; but still less does she deserve the severe way in which
you have been treating her. No pedestal, no pillory!... The
Advocate-General exhausted himself during the past five months in the
study of the dossier, but he has passed by Mme. Steinheil. He has not
studied her.... To speak plainly he knows nothing about her.
"Mme. Steinheil was kind, obliging, attentive, devoted to all... and
what is most important of all: to her husband himself.
"Let us prove it.
"To show that she was goodness itself to her family--to Mme. Seyrig, to
her brother Julien, and to Mme. Herr--nothing is easier. As regards Mme.
Seyrig, one example will be sufficient--the following letter which Mme.
Seyrig sent to her sister from Bizerte on September 23rd, 1903.
"'MY DEAR MEG,--I hope that you are better.... My husband has been
foolish enough to place money in real estate.... I am sorry to
trouble you when you are ill, but I think that you will not
hesitate, you who saved Julien, to save us. I don't know how I
shall go on. I feel I shall be ill if Henri has not those 20,000
francs.'...
"The money was sent to Mme. Seyrig....
"Here is a recent letter from Mme. Japy to her daughter:
"'MY DARLING LITTLE MEG,--How you must need a less tiring life, my
dear child, and how I should love to see you have the strength to
give up other people, and to think a little more of yourself and of
the care which your health absolutely demands. Try to learn, my
adored one, to think of yourself, and to forget wanting always to
please others....'
"What does the Prosecution think of this? This woman, always so
devoted--nay, too devoted--who knew her? Ignoring the reality,
welcoming the most terribly untruthful rumours, never hesitating before
inexcusable calumnies, and carried away by the frenzy of writing...
journalists have printed the statement that 'Mme. Steinheil detested,
abominated her mother.'... I have read and re-read this atrocious libel!
And I, who knew the horror of it, have remained silent; yes, during that
long _Instruction_ I have allowed the mud to flow, I said nothing. I
didn't protest, not even by a gesture, because, not to speak of the
professional rule which imposed silence on me, I knew that a solemn hour
would come when at last I should have the right to speak to you--the joy
to speak to you and to convince you. And it is for such a woman that the
penalty of death is tacitly, implicitly, evasively demanded. The penalty
of death! What supreme irony! Perhaps you think that the Prosecution
wanted to put it on one side by talking to you of the prisoner rather as
an accomplice than as the chief author of the crime. Don't be misled: an
affirmative verdict on either of these questions means death. Death?
But, Monsieur l'Avocat-General, if you had proposed it to the jury,
every one in this Court would have revolted....
"To return to this unfortunate and tortured woman. Opinion, which has
been misled, has raised a barrier between Mme. Steinheil and the poor
and humble. Well, let this barrier be broken down. The prisoner was only
too anxious to assist them. Who says so? Marie Boucard, who was her maid
for ten years, declared at the _Instruction_ on December 12th, 1908:
'Mme. Steinheil was devoted to the poor.' A former valet, Duclerc,
stated: 'She was extremely kind to her servants and all those around
her, rendered services to all, and nursed the poor of the district!...
In Cote 3040 it is said that: 'Of her old dresses she made with her own
hands clothes which were sent afterwards to a charity organisation in
Beaucourt.'
"... In the painter's studio the able Mme. Steinheil is ever active. Are
costumes needed for her husband's models? As an expert needlewoman she
cuts and sews, and under her deft fingers the various materials soon
become doublets and hose in the Henry IV. or Louis XIII. style. She
works without respite. Sometimes she replaces a model, and for long
hours she sits for her husband. Sometimes when a painting has to be
completed she handles the brushes, for she is an able artist.... She is
the useful collaborator who is ever assisting and completing her
husband--that timid, easily depressed, and weak-willed husband....
"But what you wish to know is not only whether the husband was helped as
an artist--although that has some importance--but also, and above all,
whether as a man and a husband he was abandoned, left aside, and
despised. You have heard on this point Mme. Steinheil's two
brothers-in-law, M. Geoffroy, and Monsieur Bonnot.... You have at once
felt that those witnesses, bitter and hostile, spoke with animosity, and
violently took part against their sister-in-law. It was they who stated
that she took no care whatever of her husband and left him for three or
four months at a time: 'To go on one knows where,' taking no interest
whatever in his life or his health. Every word an inaccuracy! It was
Mme. Steinheil who bought everything for the house, and even her
husband's clothes. That three or four months' journey? It was only an
absence of a few weeks in 1907, when Mme. Steinheil went to England with
her daughter and the Buisson family. 'To go no one knows where!' Could
any words be more misleading? When people don't know, they should remain
silent. Messieurs Geoffroy et Bonnot! The way of living and the health
of her husband were indifferent to her? True, Steinheil lived as he
pleased, but it cannot possibly be said that until his last hour he
wasn't cared for by his wife. Doctor Acheray has strongly denied the
statements of the brother-in-law, and M. Courtois-Suffit himself told
you that at the end of 1907 he was summoned by Mme. Steinheil to examine
M. Steinheil.... As for Mme. Buisson, a witness who surely cannot be
called partial, she stated that: 'Mme. Steinheil was extremely kind and
attentive to her husband, and cared about his health, seeing to it that
he followed the diet prescribed for him.'
"... When Mme. Steinheil sang, it was an unforgettable delight. Oh!
those hours of artistic beauty which have vanished!... The emotion, the
genius of the composer possessed her, overwhelmed her--and carried away
by her temperament, she was moved to tears, to anguish.... The guests
have lost her salon. They have hardly turned the corner of the street,
and she has hardly dried her tears before the poor nervous woman buries
her head in her hands and thinks. Of what? Of her power? Of the
magnetism of her voice? Her success must make her believe that people
are easily conquered by her! Alas! However great her fascination, it is
really she, after all, who is dominated by mysterious and invisible
forces. How easily it is when one sees how quickly she is
self-hypnotised, to realise how easily others may hypnotise her.... Is
it possible then that this woman, who has been represented as so strong,
was after all but a toy of men and events!
"... The Indictment said to Mme. Steinheil: 'You wanted to get rid of
your husband in order to marry M. Bdl.' And M. Bdl. replied: 'There was
no thought in me of marrying again, and these are the reasons why: I had
a daughter of twelve, and I wish to bring her up before thinking of
marriage--and even then it isn't certain that I should have thought of
it. Besides, I had absolutely decided not to give a step-mother to my
daughter, aged eighteen, who might marry soon....'
"... I wished M. Bdl. to let you hear the whole truth, and M. Bdl.,
asked by me in this Court whether he had given Mme. Steinheil reasons to
hope that he would marry her, told you that she could not possibly have
conceived any. I pressed the question, and he was firm in his reply:
'Mme. Steinheil on this matter of marriage did not and could not have
had any illusion.'
"... Let us then put aside the so-called motive of the crime.
"... The accusation of matricide has been abandoned; the prosecution
rightly feared your common sense; but, for a whole year public opinion
believed her guilty because the newspapers printed these atrocious
words, borrowed from the _Instruction_: 'She hated her mother.' And now
that the unfortunate Mme. Steinheil, represented as an unnatural
daughter, has been despised and loathed; now that, under the cover of
this monstrous accusation of matricide, has grown up that other
accusation, that of the murder of her husband, your conviction and your
sense of justice, Monsieur l'Avocat Général, make a curtsey to her and
depart. It is all very well for you, but it isn't enough for her. No, it
is not enough for this poor woman, yesterday accused of two murders, to
be accused to-day of one only--and I may say that later on, when people
think over this trial, they will pity her profoundly, and feel indignant
at the accumulation of errors against her....
... "Ceasing to regard Mme. Japy as a 'victim,' the Advocate-General has
imagined her as a 'witness.'... I have my own version, quite a new one,
concerning the death of Mme. Japy, the Advocate-General gravely
declares. I have studied, I have searched, and doubted; then, finally, I
have reached an explanation, a version....
... "And here is this strange version: the husband alone was to die; his
death was premeditated. He was to be killed by two persons--the
accomplice, Alexandre Wolff perhaps, but more likely Mariette Wolff....
As for Mme. Japy, she was to live to see, and later on be a 'witness'
who would confirm the breaking in of the murderers. Only, by forcing a
gag into her mouth, the aggressors acted too brutally; they only aimed
at a 'sham,' but they went as far as reality--that is, suffocation,
asphyxia. Instead of a living witness: a corpse.
... "Why have I called this version a strange one? Merely because it
supposes that the criminals wanted to let Mme. Japy live. Now,
investigations show that, on the contrary, the death of Mme. Japy was a
decided thing, and that almost certainly the murderers began by killing
her. In order to kill her, the miscreants did not only force into her
mouth a large gag with such violence that one false tooth, pushed back
into the throat, was broken; they strangled her with a cord fastened
twice round her neck. Thus with this death, wilfully caused by
strangulation, it is impossible to speak of a 'witness' whom Mme.
Steinheil and her accomplice needed for their scheme. And then would not
Mme. Steinheil really have been compromising and giving herself away if
she had thus prepared, as it were, the evidence of her mother against
Mariette or her son? But the Advocate-General means that Mme. Japy
would have remained silent! But in that case, instead of a 'witness,'
she would have become an accomplice herself. As you see, gentlemen of
the jury, this version is but one more fable to add to all the fables in
this affair. And would you like to know whence it comes? It is very
simple. There is a newspaper, the _Matin_, of which we must speak here
without complacency or fear. It was in the _Matin_, Monsieur l'Avocat
General, that you found this gruesome remark: '_My mother, the was the
alibi._' A pitiful joke that you have twisted in a different but no more
successful form. For in the _Matin_ this sentence, 'My mother, that was
the alibi,' meant that Mme. Steinheil, in order not to have been accused
of having killed her husband, had thought it necessary to kill her
mother. Nothing more or less! Only, the _Matin_ was too precise. It
stated that Mme. Steinheil had made that statement to some one who, to
relieve her conscience, had rushed to the newspaper's office. It was
easy to annihilate that tale. I went to the prison and showed the
_Matin_ article to Mme. Steinheil. Without hesitation she wrote at once
to Judge André, asking to be confronted with the person who it was said
had heard the confession. Then came a difficulty: it was impossible to
find that person; she had vanished into space."...
My counsel proceeded to refute the theory of the Prosecution, who stated
that there were no burglars, because entrance had not been _forced_ into
the house, because no weapons had been brought in from outside... and
for other reasons which have already been discussed at length such as:
No jewels stolen, no money taken, no real disorder, &c.
Maître Aubin had no difficulty in showing that the burglars needed no
skeleton keys since the doors were open. They had placed a ladder near a
window of the kitchen, but finding that the kitchen door was open, they
entered that way. As for the statement that no "instruments of the
crime" were brought in from outside, how did the prosecution know that?
All that was known was that the murderers used cords and wadding gags.
It was proved that the cord with which M. Steinheil was strangled came
from the kitchen cupboard, open, and opposite the door. But the cords
with which Mme. Japy was strangled and Mme. Steinheil bound did not
come from the house. As for the gags, what could be more natural than
that the murderers would use some of the wadding which they found in my
mother's room.
My counsel's next task was to answer the statements that there had been
no serious binding, no gag in my mouth, and that I had never been
seriously ill.
Concerning the last point I may mention that it was chiefly based on the
statement made by Mlle. Vogler, who from June 5th to July 5th, 1908,
nursed me first at the d'Arlon's and afterwards at my Bellevue villa.
Although I was kept alive by sea-water and morphia injections, this
nurse did not hesitate to state that my illness was "pure comedy," that
my temperature was always normal, and further that "every night at the
same hour--between midnight and 1 A.M. Mme. Steinheil used to jump out
of bed and wail: 'I am afraid.' Her eyes were dry. I felt her pulse and
found it as steady as my own."
(_Dossier_ Cote 3225-3250)
* * * * *
My counsel merely remarked: "One cannot think of everything: Mlle.
Vogler forgot this letter sent by her to Mme. Steinheil.
"Friday, _November 6th_.
"DEAR MADAM,--What martyrdom you are still enduring! Have they not
made you suffer enough! This morning I read in the _Matin_ of the
dreadful day you spent at Boulogne. How you must suffer when you
think of that awful day of torture. _If, however, it is ever
necessary to prove how much you have suffered through fever and
what horrible nights of delirium you went through_, don't forget
that I am at your disposal to testify to it. I follow your affair
daily. How glad I should be for your sake if the murderers were
found. If you have enemies, dear Madame, remember that there are
also persons who share your sorrow. Accept, dear Madame, all my
wishes for a speedy recovery and my sincere greetings.
"Your Nurse,
"MARGUERITE."
This letter was written on November 6th, 1908. The evidence from which I
have quoted was given before M. André on December 8th, 1908, and on
January 18th, 1909. I was in prison at the time, and Mlle. Vogler
evidently feared no contradiction....
I must in all fairness add here that this most important letter was
handed, at the time of the trial, by M. de Labruyère to my counsel, and
it does him great credit.
M. de Labruyère happened to be with me when the letter reached me, and,
having read it, he realised its importance and asked for it, saying he
would have it published in the _Matin_. This was never done, and later,
when I asked M. de Labruyère to return the letter to me, he was unable
to find it. He discovered it, however, in time, and, as I have just
stated, loyally handed it to Maître Aubin at my trial.
Three more brief quotations from Maître Aubin's speech:
"... Ah, how many errors and shufflings would have been avoided if this
fact, ascertained by Dr. Balthazard had been better interpreted: The
mother was killed first and the husband afterwards; they both left their
beds of their own free will, and the husband was undoubtedly strangled
whilst he went to the assistance of his mother-in-law.
"How in such circumstances, can one imagine that Mme. Steinheil is
guilty? If she had premeditated committing the crime alone or with an
accomplice, would she not have been on the watch in those bed-rooms
where she could have easily moved about without arousing suspicions?
Would she not have acted with perfidy and trickery in order to deal
death or to have death dealt, so that it might be the more certain and
the more rapid? Would she not have gone treacherously to the bed of her
mother or of her husband in order to make sure that they were asleep and
to take advantage of the fact?... But they were both killed, not only
when awake, but when out of their beds? Well, then, I say that according
to this it is impossible to eliminate the miscreants, for, cannot you
see that if Mme. Steinheil were guilty of the murder of her husband
alone, as it is said to-day, or of the murder of her husband and mother
as it was thought before, they would not have gone to meet death, but
rather death would have come to them."
[Illustration:
I. MY COUNSEL, MAITRE A. AUBIN
II. THE JUDGE, M. DE VALLES
III. THE ADVOCATE-GENERAL, M. TROUARD RIOLLE
Sketches by Mme. Steinheil]
Maître Aubin then fully explained the all-importance of the "stolen
black gowns," and the part certain journalists had played in the Impasse
Ronsin affair. His last words referred to my love for my Marthe.
"... I call to my side this pure and noble child; I want her close to
me, stretching her arms appealingly towards you and defending her
mother! These two unfortunate beings, how many tears they have already
shed, how many tears they will still shed! Ah, gentlemen of the jury,
give them the means to console one another and to forget together...
whilst blessing your justice."
* * * * *
My counsel has ceased speaking. There is a moment of silence, and that
silence drags me out of my torpor. I raised my head with a last effort,
and I see hundreds of eager faces all turned towards the judge... M. de
Valles is now speaking. I can hardly hear, but from a few words: "did
the prisoner... on May 30th-31st, 1908... murder...." I realise that he
is reading to the jury the question to which they will have to reply.
I do not understand, I do not know... the Judge rises, the jurors file
out... I am sobbing, sobbing....
I am carried away from the dock. The cooler air in the guards' room
refreshes me. I am made to drink some tea and all kinds of men stand
before me speaking words of encouragement... I have been told that I
laughed and chatted.... Everything is possible....
I remember that the guards handed me post-card after post-card of
myself--begging me to sign them. I could hardly hold the pen, and the
number of cards was endless. Poor soldiers; they had been good to me in
their own simple way, and they said that they could get quite a deal of
money for cards with my autograph.... How happy they all looked.
Everybody says I shall be acquitted in a moment. Doctor Socquet tells
me: "When the jury give their verdict, I will listen and then rush to
you. If you see me, that'll mean that you are acquitted; if I don't
come, well, you will know. If things go wrong, I shall not have the
courage to come."
Some one tells me that it is eleven o'clock. The jury has been away
fifteen minutes already. Fifteen minutes, and they have not yet found
that I am innocent. How is it possible?
A bell rings.
I rise as if electrified.... And then some one tells me that the jury
have summoned the President and Maître Aubin. They want to be
enlightened on some point.... The guards were whispering, and suddenly
an unspeakable terror seizes me. They have talked aloud and cheerfully
until now; they do not want me to hear the dreadful truth....
A quarter past eleven. Half-past eleven. A quarter to twelve.
Midnight.... Still nothing!
Will this martyrdom never end? What right has any one to make me suffer
so? And where is Marthe, my own child. If she were only here, perhaps I
could bear this agony.... How she must suffer, if she knows....
More people enter the guards' room. The two old ushers, who have seen
many, many such trials, come to see me. One hails from my own province,
the other acts at night as _maître d'hôtel_ and has seen me at many
important dinners. One of them mutters in my ear: "Madame, don't you
worry about anything. I am used to all this. Those jurors are all right;
as sure as I stand here you will be acquitted, they can't help knowing
that you are innocent.... Look here! The minute the verdict is known,
I'll come to the door there and say, 'Hoo!' Then raise your head, enter
bravely in the dock, for the last time and show them all who you are."
Then I hear two men discussing in the corridor: "I tell you," says one
of them, "that she is done for. If the jury wanted to acquit her, they
would not summon the President, and the whole thing would have been over
long ago!"
A guard tells me: "It's no longer the 13th of November now, but the
14th. There's luck for you!" and he hands me a few more cards to
sign....
A quarter past twelve.... Half-past twelve. The bell again.
No, the time has not yet come. The jurors want more explanations. This
second shock has a merciful effect. It takes out of me the last spark of
vitality. Everything is blank. I wait for hours, for days, now, for I no
longer know what I am waiting for. There is a small crowd around me, and
they all say, "Courage, have courage." Of course, I have courage. I have
had courage for the past eighteen months; what does anything matter!
A quarter to one.... One o'clock.... A quarter past one. Now I feel it.
Something is going to happen!...
The bell rings twice.
I see Doctor Socquet, quite pale; I hear some one cry, "Hoo!" and then I
hear the most terrible, the most awe-inspiring, the most maddening storm
I have ever heard.... I realised afterwards that what I heard at that
unforgettable moment were the screams of enthusiasm and the frantic
applause of hundreds of people who had heard the verdict: I was
acquitted.... But I did not know. How could I understand anything!...
Guards rushed to me and carried me to the Court. The light dazzled me,
and the storm rose again, more overwhelming than before. I vaguely saw
hundreds of hands raised towards me... I saw hundreds of radiant faces
shouting: "Bravo... Bravo... Acquitted... Acquitted...." Still I didn't
understand. I took those cries for threats, and believed all those hands
wanted to seize me, to tear me to pieces.... And then I looked at the
jury, and among all those faces I saw one smiling, and then at last, I
understood, and fell back.
Alas, alas. The one face in the world I had so longed to see was not
there....
* * * * *
A room.... People are pressing my hand, kissing it, and I see tears in
many eyes... and I hear the words, repeated over and over again: "What a
trial. What a trial...."
A triumph! Good God!... Marthe is not there.
* * * * *
Never mind what happened afterwards. Doctor Socquet helped me once more,
and others too. There were discussions, endless discussions as to how I
was to be smuggled away. And there were journalists clambering for my
"impressions...." I asked for my daughter to every one... then I begged
to be taken home, but was told it was impossible.... The daughter of the
Director of the _Dépôt_ most generously consented to "escape" in a
motor-car, and thus to "draw" the journalists, whilst in another
motor-car I was taken, with Maître Steinhardt, and I believe a Press
photographer, to a hotel I have been told that I was extremely bright
and gay on the way.... At the hotel, I was told to sit whilst my
photograph was being taken, hurriedly, and then I lay on a bed for a
short time.... Early in the morning I was taken by motor-car to a
nursing home at Le Vésinet, and on the way, I was bright and gay again,
and I was photographed again!
I have heard that the photographer was well paid for his work, and that
he even sold for a substantial sum a series of articles--to the _Matin_,
of course--about that drive from the Palace of Justice to the Terminus
Hotel, and the drive from the Terminus Hotel to Le Vésinet, in which he
described at length and in fluent and sensational style, all the bright
and gay things he imagined I had said and done....
But why, God of Mercy, was not my Marthe near me?
* * * * *
The reader must wonder, as I have long done myself, what exactly took
place during the two hundred minutes that the jury deliberated.
In a quite indirect way, which, for obvious reasons I cannot divulge
here, I have been able to ascertain the details of the long-drawn
deliberation. These details are irrefutable:
An overwhelming majority of the jurors had decided that I was guilty,
but the two or three who were in favour of an acquittal fought so
strongly that long discussions ensued.
When the foreman rang the bell to summon the President, it was to ask
questions about the murder of Mme. Japy, for the majority was of opinion
that I had strangled not only my husband, but had also done my mother to
death!... And this although the Advocate General himself, in his speech
for the Prosecution, had withdrawn the charge of matricide.
Another discussion ensued, and one or two jurors wavered. Then, after an
hour, the President, M. Trouard-Riolle and Maître Aubin were once more
summoned about the eventual wording of the verdict. After a fierce
discussion, in which the stolen black gowns were the chief subject, my
innocence appeared evident to one or two more jurors, and finally there
were seven for an acquittal and five for a conviction. And thus I was
acquitted after being for so long, without knowing it, so near to...
the scaffold!