“You remember, gentlemen of the jury, that an attempt was made to
show that Major Esterhazy secured a false entry upon his record of
service, and that General Guerrier was called by the defence to testify
on this point. Now this is what happened: In 1881 Captain Esterhazy
accomplished a brilliant feat, in consequence of which he was proposed
as an officer of the legion of honor. His act was brought to the
knowledge of the regiment by the following order: ‘The camp having been
attacked by the Arabs, Captain Esterhazy, while other officers were
attacking them on the flanks, attacked them in front, leading his men
with a dash and a courage beyond all praise.’ Now, according to certain
regulations of 1889 and 1895, this matter should be set forth in the
order of the day of the regiment, and not in the order of the day of
the army.
“Is not the misinterpretation of so simple a matter identical with
calumny?
“As for Colonel Picquart, who endeavored to maintain here that the
documents seized after the condemnation of Dreyfus are forgeries, he
has been contradicted by his inferiors and by his equals, and you
have heard in what terms his superior, General de Pellieux, expressed
himself regarding him. And finally he contradicted himself. The scene
was so saddening that I have not the courage to dwell upon it.
“Gentlemen of the jury, the judges of the council of war are invested
with a double character. They are at once magistrates and jurors. It
seems to me that I see them, hesitating first, then stiffening their
will in face of the duty to be done, far from all influence, solely
concerned with the rendering of an honest and loyal verdict. You have
the same honorable mission, gentlemen of the jury. You are to do the
same justice. The prime minister has declared from the tribune of the
chamber his high confidence in the twelve free citizens to whom the
government has entrusted the defence of justice and of the honor of
the army. The revolutionary manifestation of M. Emile Zola has met
its counter-shock in the street. Persons and property are no longer
respected. Violence breeds violence. But what cares ‘L’Aurore,’ which
has its sensational trial? What difference does that make to M. Emile
Zola? He has lifted himself to the _rôle_ of a great man, which he
easily assumes. He has realized his dream. He has brought to this
court-room cabinet ministers, foreign diplomats, generals. He would
have summoned all Europe. It was the necessary stage-setting for the
novel that he announces. ‘L’Aurore’ tells us that he has entered
into glory in his lifetime. His ‘Letter to France’ is literature; it
savors of the Academy. His ‘Letter to Youth’ has enjoyed a success
only in Berlin, and here is a translation sent to me from Germany. For
the sake of his personal vanity he has imposed upon you these twelve
sessions that have made the heart of the country bleed. And beyond the
frontier what lamentable echoes! They have not hesitated to attack the
staff, to compromise the national defence. They have overwhelmed with
outrages the obedient and silent army, in which every Frenchman sees
the image of his country. They have put upon it the outrageous insult
of casting suspicion on its commanders, who are endeavoring, respectful
of the laws, to make it worthy of its task on the day when it shall be
necessary to lead it against the enemy. No more violent insult could be
offered. No more anti-patriotic campaign could be conceived. You have
listened here to M. Jaurès. For my part, I value talent only in the
ratio of the good that it does, not in the ratio of the ruins that it
accumulates. No, it is not true that a council of war has rendered a
verdict in obedience to orders. It is not true that seven officers have
been found to obey any other than the order of their free and honest
conscience. You will condemn those who have outraged them, gentlemen of
the jury. France awaits your verdict with confidence.”
_Speech of M. Emile Zola._
At the conclusion of the attorney-general’s address, M. Zola read the
following declaration to the jury:
“In the chamber, at its session of January 22, M. Méline, president
of the cabinet, declared, amid the frantic applause of his obliging
majority, that he had confidence in the twelve citizens to whose
hands he entrusted the defence of the army. It was of you, gentlemen,
that he spoke. And, just as General Billot dictated his decree to the
council of war which was charged with the acquittal of Major Esterhazy,
uttering from the tribune for the instruction of his subordinates the
military countersign of unquestionable respect for the thing judged,
so M. Méline has endeavored to give you an order to sentence me in the
name of respect for the army, which he accuses me of having outraged.
I denounce to the conscience of honest people this pressure of public
power on the justice of the country. These are abominable political
practices, dishonoring to a free nation.
“We shall see, gentlemen, if you will obey. But it is not true that
I am here before you by the will of M. Méline. He yielded to the
necessity of prosecuting me only in great agitation, in terror of
the new step that truth in its march might take. That is known to
everybody. If I am before you, it is by my own will. I alone have
decided that the obscure, the monstrous matter should be brought before
your jurisdiction, and I alone, in the full exercise of my will, have
chosen you, the highest and most direct emanation of French justice,
that France at last may know all, and decide. My act had no other
object, and my person is nothing; I have sacrificed it, satisfied
simply to have placed in your hands, not only the honor of the army,
but the endangered honor of the entire nation.
“You will pardon me, then, if your consciences have not been
thoroughly enlightened. It is not my fault. It seems that I was
dreaming in expecting to bring you all the proofs,--in considering you
alone worthy, alone competent. They began by taking from you with the
left hand what they seemed to give you with the right. They made a
pretence of accepting your jurisdiction, but, though they trusted you
to avenge the members of one council of war, certain other officers
remained unassailable, superior even to your justice. Understand it
who can. It is absurdity in hypocrisy, and furnishes striking proof
that they feared your good sense, and did not dare to run the risk of
allowing us to say everything, and of allowing you to judge everything.
They pretend that they desired to limit the scandal. And what do you
think of this scandal, of my act, which consisted in laying the case
before you, in desiring that the people, incarnate in you, should pass
judgment upon it? They pretend, further, that they could not accept a
disguised revision, thus confessing that they have only one fear at
bottom,--that of your sovereign control. The law has in you its total
representation, and it is this chosen law of the people that I have
longed for, that I profoundly respect, as a good citizen, and not the
equivocal procedure by which they have hoped to baffle you.
“Thus am I excused, gentlemen, for having turned you aside from your
occupations without succeeding in flooding you with the total light
of which I dreamed. Light, complete light, that has been my sole,
my passionate desire. And this trial has just proved it to you; we
have had to struggle step by step against a desire for darkness
extraordinary in its obstinacy. For each shred of truth torn from
the unwilling a fight has been necessary; they have disputed about
everything, they have refused us everything, they have terrorized our
witnesses in the hope of preventing us from proving our case. And it is
for you alone that we have fought; that this proof might be submitted
to you in its entirety, so that you could pass judgment without remorse
and in your conscience. Therefore I am certain that you will take
our efforts into consideration, and that, moreover, enough of light
has been shed. You have heard the witnesses, you are going to hear
my counsel, who will tell you the true story, the story that maddens
everybody and that everybody knows. So I am at ease; the truth is now
with you; it will do its work.
“M. Méline thought, then, to dictate your verdict in entrusting to
you the honor of the army, and it is in the name of this honor of the
army that I myself appeal to your justice. I deny M. Méline’s statement
in the most formal manner; I have never insulted the army. On the
contrary, I have expressed my tenderness, my respect, for the nation
in arms, for our dear soldiers of France who would rise at the first
threat, in defence of the French soil. And it is equally false that
I have attacked the commanders, the generals who would lead them to
victory. If certain individuals in the war offices have compromised
the army by their conduct, is it an insult to the entire army to say
so? Is it not, rather, the work of a good citizen to free the army
from all compromise, to sound the alarm, in order that the misdeeds
which have forced us to this fight may not be repeated and lead us to
new defeats. However, I do not defend myself. I leave to history the
judgment of my act, which was a necessary act. But I declare that they
dishonor the army when they allow the _gendarmes_ to embrace Major
Esterhazy after the abominable letters that he has written. I declare
that this valiant army is insulted daily by the bandits who, pretending
to defend it, sully it with their base complicity, dragging in the
mud everything good and great that France still has. I declare it is
they who dishonor this great national army, when they mingle the cry
of ‘Long live the Army!’ with the cry of ‘Death to the Jews!’ And they
have cried ‘Long live Esterhazy!’ Great God! The people of St. Louis,
of Bayard, of Condé, and of Hoche, the people that have won a hundred
giant victories, the people of the great wars of the republic and the
empire, the people whose strength, grace, and generosity have dazzled
the universe, crying ‘Long live Esterhazy!’ It is a shame that only our
effort in behalf of truth and justice can wipe out.
“You know the legend that has been created. Dreyfus was condemned
justly and legally by seven infallible officers, whom it is impossible
even to suspect of error without insulting the entire army. In an
avenging torture he is expiating his abominable misdeed. And, as
he is a Jew, a Jewish syndicate has been created, an international
syndicate of people without a country, with hundreds of millions at
their disposal for the purpose of saving the traitor at the cost of the
most shameless manœuvres. Then this syndicate began to heap up crimes,
buying consciences, throwing France into a murderous tumult, determined
to sell her to the enemy, to set Europe on fire with a general war,
rather than abandon this frightful design. It is very simple, even
puerile and imbecile, as you see. But it is upon this poisoned bread
that an unclean press has been feeding our people for months, and we
should not be astonished at the spectacle of a disastrous crisis, for,
when stupidity and lies are sown at such a rate, a crop of madness is
sure to be harvested.
“Certainly, gentlemen, I do not offer you the insult of believing that
you have been caught by this nursery tale. I know you. I know who you
are. You are the heart and reason of Paris, of my great Paris, where
I was born, which I love with an infinite tenderness, which I have
been studying and singing for forty years. And I know too now what is
going on in your brains, for, before sitting here as an accused, I sat
in the seats which you occupy. You represent average opinion; you aim
to be wisdom and justice _en masse_. Presently I shall be with you in
thought in your deliberations in the jury-room, and I am convinced that
you will endeavor to guard your interests as citizens, which naturally
are, according to you, the interests of the whole nation. You may be
mistaken, but your purpose will be to insure your own welfare and the
welfare of all.
“I see you at your homes, at night, under the lamp; I hear you talking
with your friends; I accompany you to your shops and stores. You
are all workers, some merchants, others manufacturers, and a few
professional men. And you are filled with a perfectly legitimate
anxiety concerning the deplorable state into which business has fallen.
Everywhere the existing crisis threatens to become a disaster, receipts
are falling off, transactions are becoming more and more difficult.
So that the thought that you have brought here, the thought that I
read on your faces, is that there has been enough of this, and that
it must come to an end. You do not say, as many do: ‘What difference
does it make to us whether an innocent man is on Devil’s Island? Is
the interest of an individual sufficient to warrant the agitation of a
great country?’ But you do say, nevertheless, that the agitation which
we are carrying on, in our hunger for truth and justice, is paid for
too dearly by all the evil that they accuse us of doing. And, if you
convict me, gentlemen, the sole foundation of your verdict will be the
desire to quiet your families, the need of a resumption of business,
the belief that, in striking me, you will put an end to a campaign of
vindication that is harmful to the interests of France.
“Well, gentlemen, you would be utterly mistaken. Do me the honor to
believe that I am not defending here my liberty. In striking me, you
will only add to my stature. Whoever suffers for truth and justice
becomes august and sacred. Look at me, gentlemen. Have I the appearance
of one who has sold himself? Do I look like a liar and a traitor?
Why, then, should I act as I do? I have behind me neither political
ambition or sectarian passions. I am a free writer, who has given his
life to toil, who tomorrow will again take his place in the ranks, and
will resume his interrupted task. And how stupid are they who call me
an Italian! I who was born of a French mother, brought up by Beauce
grandparents, peasants in that robust region; I who lost my father at
the age of seven, and never went to Italy until I was fifty-four, and
then only to get material for a book. Which does not prevent me from
being very proud that my father was of Venice, that resplendent city
whose ancient glory sings in all memories. And, even if I were not
French, would not the forty volumes in the French language which I have
scattered by millions throughout the entire world suffice to make me a
Frenchman, useful to the glory of France?
“So I do not defend myself. But what an error would be yours, if you
were convinced that, in striking me, you would re-establish order in
our unhappy country. Do you not understand that that of which the
nation is dying is the darkness in which they are bent upon leaving
her, the equivocations in which she is agonizing? The mistakes of our
governors are piled up on mistakes; one lie necessitates another, so
that the mass becomes frightful. A judicial error has been committed,
and then to hide it it has been necessary to commit each day a new
attack on good sense and equity. The conviction of an innocent man has
involved the acquittal of a guilty man; and now today you are asked to
convict me in my turn, because I have cried out in my anguish at the
sight of the progress of the country in this frightful path. Convict
me, then. It will be one error more added to the others, an error the
burden of which you will bear in history. And my conviction, instead of
bringing about the peace that you desire, and that we all desire, will
only sow the seed of a new crop of passion and disorder. The measure is
full, I tell you; do not make it overflow.
“Why do you not exactly estimate the terrible crisis through which the
country is passing? They say that we are the authors of the scandal,
that it is the lovers of truth and justice who are leading the nation
astray and urging it to riot. Really, this is mockery. To speak only of
General Billot, was he not warned eighteen months ago? Did not Colonel
Picquart insist that he should take in hand the matter of revision,
if he did not wish the storm to burst and overturn everything? Did
not M. Scheurer-Kestner, with tears in his eyes, beg him to think of
France, and save her such a catastrophe? No, no! our desire has been
to facilitate everything, to allay everything, and, if the country is
now in trouble, the responsibility lies with power, which, to cover
the guilty, and in the furtherance of political interests, has denied
everything, hoping to be strong enough to prevent the light from being
shed. It has manœuvred in the shadow in behalf of darkness, and it
alone is responsible for the present distraction of consciences.
“The Dreyfus case, ah! gentlemen, that has become a very small matter
now. It is lost and far away, in view of the terrifying questions to
which it has given rise. There is no longer any Dreyfus case. The
question now is whether France is still the France of the rights of
man, the France that gave liberty to the world, and that ought to give
it justice. Are we still the most noble, the most fraternal, the most
generous nation? Shall we preserve our reputation in Europe for equity
and humanity? Are not all the victories that we have won called in
question? Open your eyes, and understand that, to be in such confusion,
the French soul must have been stirred to its depths in face of a
terrible danger. A nation cannot be thus upset without imperiling its
moral existence. This is an exceptionally serious hour; the safety of
the nation is at stake.
“And, when you shall have understood that, gentlemen, you will feel
that but one remedy is possible,--to tell the truth, to do justice.
Anything that keeps back the light, anything that adds darkness to
darkness, will only prolong and aggravate the crisis. The _rôle_ of
good citizens, of those who feel it to be imperatively necessary to
put an end to this matter, is to demand broad daylight. There are
already many of them who think so. The men of literature, philosophy,
and science are rising on every hand, in the name of intelligence
and reason. And I do not speak of the foreigner, of the shudder that
has run through all Europe. Yet the foreigner is not necessarily the
enemy. Let us not speak of the nations that may be our adversaries
tomorrow. But great Russia, our ally; little and generous Holland; all
the sympathetic nations of the north; those countries of the French
language, Switzerland and Belgium,--why are their hearts so heavy,
so overflowing with fraternal suffering? Do you dream, then, of an
isolated France? Do you prefer, when you pass the frontier, not to meet
the approving smile upon your legendary fame for equity and humanity?
“Alas! gentlemen, like so many others, you perhaps expect the
thunderbolt, the descent from heaven of the proof of the innocence
of Dreyfus. Truth does not generally come in that way. It requires
research and intelligence. We know very well where the truth is,
where it could be found. But we dream of that only in the secrecy of
our souls, and we feel patriotic anguish lest we expose ourselves
to the danger of having this proof some day flung in our face after
having involved the honor of the army in a lie. I wish also to declare
squarely that, though, in the official notice of our list of witnesses,
we included certain ambassadors, we had formally decided in advance
not to summon them. Our audacity has provoked smiles. But I do not
think that there was any smiling in our foreign office, for there they
must have understood. We simply intended to say to those who know
the whole truth that we also know it. This truth is bandied about at
the embassies; tomorrow it will be known to all, and, if it is now
impossible for us to seek it where it is protected by formalities
that cannot be overstepped, the government which is not ignorant, the
government which is convinced, as we are, of the innocence of Dreyfus,
will be able, when it likes, and without risk, to find witnesses who
will make everything clear.
“Dreyfus is innocent; I swear it. I stake my life upon it; I stake
my honor upon it. At this solemn hour, before this tribunal that
represents human justice, before you, gentlemen of the jury, who are
the emanation of the nation, before all France, before the entire
world, I swear that Dreyfus is innocent. And by my forty years of toil,
and by the authority that this labor has given me, I swear that Dreyfus
is innocent. Let it all fall to the ground, let my works perish, if
Dreyfus is not innocent. He is innocent.
“Everything seems to be against me,--the two chambers, the civil power,
the military power, the journals of large circulation, the public
opinion that they have poisoned. And with me there is but an idea, an
ideal of truth and justice. And I am perfectly at ease; I shall triumph.
“I did not wish my country to remain in falsehood and injustice. Here I
may be condemned; but some day France will thank me for having helped
to save her honor.”
_Speech of M. Labori._
M. Zola was followed by his counsel, M. Labori, who summed up his case
with the following elaborate argument:
“Gentlemen of the jury, though this trial has already lasted more
than two weeks, I have still to call upon you for a last, and perhaps,
alas! a long, effort. I feel that you appreciate, and perhaps better
than ever after the words that have just been spoken, the grandeur of
this trial, and that you will forgive me for counting on your devotion
as citizens and on your kindly and impartial attention as judges. I do
not think that there was ever an affair that more deeply stirred the
public conscience. None has caused more clamor, the excuse of which,
in the case of many, is that they who utter it know not what they do.
None has given rise to more decided courage and conviction. Between the
determination of some and the outcry of others the mass of the people,
insufficiently enlightened, but of good faith (and it is on this good
faith that I rely), still hesitates in uncertainty before the unchained
passions, on the one hand, which uselessly invoke, though neither is
involved, the honor of the army and the safety of the country, and,
on the other, before all that France possesses of independence and
elevation of mind. It suffices, gentlemen, to take at hazard from the
list the names of those whose thought accompanies the great citizen
here before you,--Anatole France, Duclaux, Gabriel Monod, Michel Bréal,
Jean Psichari, Réville, Frédéric Passy, de Pressensé, Havet, Séailles,
and that admirable Grimaux whom the army cannot deny. For years he has
been the teacher of a great number of its most brilliant officers. But
M. Grimaux, in spite of all threats, came here to proclaim, with an
eloquence that moved us all, his conviction that we are in the path of
truth, justice, and right.
“Ah! gentlemen, between these two parties, not equal yet in numbers,
I know in which direction this great people would lean, if the public
powers, misled by their temporary interest, sustained by those who
were yesterday, who will be tomorrow, who are even today, their worst
adversaries, did not disconcert the country by their attitude and
unproved declarations. Everybody says everywhere that there are three
hundred deputies in the chamber, and one hundred and fifty or two
hundred senators in the senate, who consider revision a necessary
thing, but will not say so until after the elections. But it is not
enough, gentlemen, that our governors, who ought to be the nation’s
guides, separate themselves from this phalanx of chosen men, some of
whom I have just named. It is necessary also that these chosen men,
every day and twice a day, should be insulted and defamed, I do not
say only by the newspapers that make a trade of calumny, but even by
those organs of public opinion from which we are accustomed to expect a
little more moderation and a little more justice.
“The insult that is thrown in their face may be summed up in one
word: they are members of that syndicate formed to sustain the Jews
and ruin the country. Syndicate! an ingenious word, an invention of
talented pamphleteers,--whose excuse is that at bottom they are too
often children through the very puerility of their credulity. An
ingenious word, but an infamous word for those who launch it, hoping
that it will make its way. And, gentlemen, has it not made its way,
when we see it approved here by the attorney-general? An infamous
word for those, a childish word for those others who believe that
such things are possible. Oh! if they simply mean that a family will
spend all that it possesses, will sacrifice not the immense fortune
which has been spoken of, but its abundant ease, to save the man whom
it knows to be innocent, and if they mean that some friends will help
them, I say quite frankly that I see nothing in that which is not
respectable. But, if they mean that M. Zola has sold himself, I say as
frankly: it is a lie, or, rather, it is childishness. Sold? Let them
say it; it is a matter of indifference to him. If he defends himself,
if those who assist him defend him and themselves with him, it is in
the interest of the cause that they represent. No, gentlemen, there
are no money syndicates that can produce movements like those which
you have witnessed, or powers of resistance such as those which we
endeavor to display. It is not money that brings here citizens like
Scheurer-Kestner, Trarieux, Jaurès; politicians--I take them from all
parties--like Charles Longuet and--I say it, though I raise a protest
in the court-room--like Joseph Reinach himself, whom we should not be
afraid to mention here in praise of his perseverance and the dignity
of his attitude; artists like Clairin, Eugène Carrière, Claude Monet,
Bruneau, Desmoulins, who accompany M. Zola to this court every day,
in spite of the threats with which he is surrounded; and publicists
like Quillard, Ajalbert, Victor Bérard, Lucien Victor-Meunier, Ranc,
Sigismond Lacroix, Yves Guyot, and Séverine, who said to us: ‘Do not
call me as a witness; proclaim loudly what I think; I serve you better
where I am.’ She is right, for do you know what she assures us with her
articles in ‘La Fronde’? The support of a cohort of French women, who
are with us, and will remain with us, and who instil at the fireside
the ideas that we have scattered through the country.
“Well, gentlemen, all those whom I have enumerated, all those whom I
forget, we must thank and salute, not in the name of M. Zola,--for his
personality, however eminent it may be, disappears from the case,--but
in the name of something higher, for they will be entitled some day
to the country’s gratitude. And do you know why? Because in a moment
when it required some courage these men placed truth and right above
everything. Belonging, most of them, to the educational world,--and
it is to the honor of the French university,--they understood that,
teaching the eternal ideal, they had no right, in the hour of danger,
to pursue a line of conduct not in harmony with their teachings.
Defending liberty and the eternal rules of justice, they were bound to
practise both.
“The truth is, whatever may be said, that the verdict against Dreyfus
in 1894 has never ceased to weigh upon the public conscience. I do
not mean by that that the majority of citizens suspect the legitimacy
of the sentence. How could I say it, when I very well know that at
the present hour the majority is against us, or seems to be, for many
timid consciences are silenced by the uproar which is mistaken for an
expression of the general sentiment. But I grant that at present the
majority is still against us.
“Many, nevertheless, have been disturbed, disturbed from the very
first by the darkness of the prosecution, by the moving scene of the
degradation, by the persistence of the condemned man in proclaiming
his innocence. When the verdict was rendered, the majority, knowing
nothing, were moved for a moment by the obscurities in which the case
was wrapped. But their emotion was soon smothered in the floods of
lies that were poured forth, and all rested in the confidence that the
verdict necessarily inspired.
“I find no better proof of this than an article furnished me this
morning by ‘L’Intransigeant.’ The article is from the pen of M.
Clemenceau. It was hoped to embarrass him by showing that in December,
1894, or in January, 1895, he was one of those who showed the greatest
irritation against the man whom they called the traitor. I fancy that
it gives him no embarrassment; for my part, I note only this,--that,
like many people then, like many people even today, he believed in
the justice and the legality of the verdict rendered, and that his
contrary opinion of today has for me, and should have for you, only the
greater value. But, if the majority doubted, some who had approached
this family which they despise when they are not acquainted with it,
and which they respect when they approach it,--some who had approached
this family, or its counsel who has never wavered in his conviction of
his client’s innocence, harbored a doubt, yes, cherished a hope. And,
in uttering this word hope, do you know under what authority I place
myself? Under the authority of a man who for many days has spared us
neither accusations or insults, but whom I regard as an honest man. I
mean M. Paul de Cassagnac, director of ‘L’Autorité.’
“Hear, gentlemen, what he says, and in admirable language. For my part,
I cannot believe that a man who writes thus is really an enemy of truth
and justice. Hear what he said of the sadness which must have invaded
all French hearts on the day after the conviction of Dreyfus.
This judgment is going to fill the country with profound sadness and
bitter disappointment. In the first place, profound sadness. For the
great mass of the French people, in spite of their hostility to the
Jews, do not carry the blindness of religious hatred so far as to wish
that a traitor may be found in the ranks of our officers, though this
traitor should be a Jew. They would have welcomed with joy a complete,
absolute acquittal, establishing indisputably that it was a cruel
blunder to have believed, on the strength of false indications, that
a French officer had betrayed his country. For the love of country,
in its grand and holy solidarity, knows neither Jew or Christian.
France is a mother, and necessarily suffers atrociously at the public
dishonor of any of her sons.
“You see that I was not wrong in saying that those who harbored a
doubt cherished also a hope; and this doubt continued in the minds of
all who knew anything of the matter, however little. Others, knowing
nothing, but accustomed to observe, harbored at least an anxiety. Why?
Because there was too much darkness and too much light as well. For the
trouble in this matter has been that, while the proof remained hidden
in obscurity, public opinion took possession of the affair, determined
to know all. Never from the first has there been complete silence; the
discussion continued, assertions were made, falsehoods were spread, or
suffered to spread, thus creating that anxiety and anguish the fruit of
which the country now is reaping. Am I wrong in saying that? Again I
place myself under the authority to which I appealed just now. On the
eve of the trial of 1894 the entire press, even the press of M. Drumont
himself, called for a public trial. Listen to what M. Paul de Cassagnac
said in ‘L’Autorité’ on December 8, 1894.
Must I say it? The farther I go, the more perplexed I feel, and I ask
myself if perchance Captain Dreyfus is not innocent. Do not cry out,
friendly readers, but reflect. Is not this solution, if it result
from the trial itself, the solution to be desired? For my part, from
the beginning I have been unable to reconcile myself to the idea that
a French officer could have sold his country to the enemy. And no
hatred that I feel for the Jews can make me prefer to find a guilty
man in the uniform of a soldier, rather than an innocent man. What
fills me with doubt is what they say about the document on which
this charge rests. The document in question is one said to have been
written by Dreyfus. It was found, they say, by a secret agent, in
the waste-basket of a foreign military _attaché_, into which it had
fallen. Dreyfus denies that the writing is his, and four experts have
examined it. Three say that he wrote it; the fourth holds the contrary
opinion.
“This is an error. The document was examined by five experts, three of
whom declared Dreyfus the writer, the two others dissenting.
If this had been the only proof, the charge against Dreyfus would have
been an imprudent one. Who does not know, in fact, that, even when
experts are agreed, it is far from sure that they are right? And the
public, very incredulous in regard to this pretended science, has not
forgotten the famous trial of la Boussinière at Angers, in which the
experts in handwriting made anything but a brilliant spectacle. Now,
two of the experts who were so unfortunate in that case are of the
three who declare that this document was written by Dreyfus.
Unhappily for Dreyfus, there seems to be something else. There is
talk of another document found in the office of the same military
_attaché_, which is said to be overwhelming. But the government,
it seems, has not the courage to publicly confess how and where it
procured this document, and so they hesitate to produce it. Then what
remains of the charge? Is it because the government does not feel
sufficiently well armed that it proposes to call for closed doors.
Is it because it fears the foreign power whose military _attaché_
has played an ignoble _rôle_? We do not know. But what we do know is
that public opinion will not tolerate concealment, and will insist
on an open trial. It would be really strange, were France, after her
indignation at the closed doors behind which the Italians strangled
the Romani case, were to use the same wretched means toward Captain
Dreyfus. A French officer in France must have the right to publicly
defend his honor, and the government which accuses him is bound to
grant him the favor of the open day. Let the government have a care.
The people will not be satisfied with a minimum sentence based on
presumptions, and formulated behind doors closed to stifle the affair.
Somebody here is guilty. If it is not Captain Dreyfus, it is the
government. And what a terrible responsibility would weigh upon the
government of the republic if it were proved that, without proofs
convincing to the most sceptical, it had committed the horrible crime
of sullying the whole French army in accusing an officer of the most
frightful of misdeeds, of having sold his country to the enemy. If
Captain Dreyfus is acquitted, the minister of war becomes the traitor.
Dreyfus acquitted, Mercier must be driven in shame, not only from
the war department, but from the ranks of the army, for having cast
suspicion upon an innocent officer.
Though perplexed today, I believe in the guilt of Dreyfus. For I
cannot imagine that they would have arrested this officer, that they
would have preferred such a charge against him, that they would have
submitted him for months to the frightful torture of the nation’s
censure, to suffer which is a hundred times worse than to be shot,--I
cannot imagine that they would have so tortured this living man,
unless they were absolutely certain of his guilt. So a public trial is
indispensable. Acquittal in the darkness would leave Dreyfus under the
stain of suspicion. It would look as if he had been acquitted through
fear of a foreign power. Or it would be said that the Jews bought the
consciences of the judges. An acquittal behind closed doors is not an
acquittal; it is a sort of hypocritical and shameful condemnation.
As for condemnation, who would dare to hope for it in the absence of
those irrefutable proofs that in our day society is obliged to spread
before the eyes of everybody, before mortally and materially killing
one of its children. To take from a man, from a soldier, his honor
and his life without saying why? Nonsense! It is impossible. Human
reason forbids such a return to the darkest traditions of the secret
tribunals of Spain and the Netherlands. The government of the republic
renewing and aggravating the mysterious and unavowable processes of
the Inquisition and of St. Vehme when the fate of a French officer is
in the balance! And from pusillanimity! I repeat, it is impossible,
for it would be too ignominious.
“It is impossible, and yet, gentlemen of the jury, it happened. The
doors were closed, and the doubt continued. It continued even in the
mind of M. Paul de Cassagnac, as I shall show you presently; you will
not be astonished, then, if it continued in the minds of others.
“At first, gentlemen, this was only a preoccupation, but it became a
source of anguish for some, of whom I was one, when there appeared
in ‘L’Eclair,’ of September 15, 1896, an article that seemed almost
official, a mixture of revelation and falsehood, which did not seem
to cause even a moment’s indignation among those in whom this country
places the care of right and justice. The attorney-general has spoken
to you of this article, and has attempted to attribute it to Colonel
Picquart. We shall see presently whether it is difficult to answer him
on that point. But, first, I am going to read to you, not the whole
article, for it is too long, but a part of it. And you will see at
once, now that you know what Colonel Picquart’s sentiments have been
since September, 1896, whether the publication of this article can be
attributed either to him or to his friends. Remember the name of this
newspaper, ‘L’Eclair,’ gentlemen. We shall meet it frequently. It is
among those that carry on today the most violent and unjust campaign
against the defenders of M. Zola. It began long ago. I read from the
article in question.
A French officer is expiating in imprisonment the crime of high
treason. That his expiation may be absolute, not a single conscience
must grant the traitor the benefit of a doubt. But such doubt is being
manifested in repeated articles, and, if some one does not intervene
to say frankly and courageously that which has been hidden, it will
finally create around Dreyfus a scandalous legend.
“The fact to which the attorney-general alluded in his address, the
serious fact that disturbed Colonel Picquart and led him to write to
General Gonse that ‘perhaps it will soon be too late for us to do
justice,’--was this fact, as has just been insinuated, the article that
appeared in ‘L’Eclair’ of September 5, 1896? That cannot be maintained.
The articles that raised the doubt of which I have just spoken to
you were favorable articles, articles that marked the beginning of a
very legitimate campaign, which ‘L’Eclair’ answers with a tissue of
lies. Let it not be said that friends of the Dreyfus family could have
originated such a story. Presently I will tell you why, but the article
itself demonstrates it irrefutably.
That his guilt, attested by the verdict of his peers after a trial
held behind closed doors, may appear clear to those minds which are
readiest to believe in the possibility of error the entire truth must
be known. We have asked the government to tell it. The government
does not think that it can depart from the reserve dictated to it by
a diplomatic prudence. We are not bound to be equally circumspect.
Convinced that the reasons which militated in favor of silence no
longer exist, we are persuaded that the proof may be spread before the
public.
“Note the process, gentlemen! I do not know exactly from whom the
article emanated, though I shall show you that it must have had
its source with the staff. Was it given out by an officer or by a
subordinate? I do not know, but compare these processes. When doubts
spring up, when a campaign is beginning, they strike a blow resembling
that which was struck at one of these sessions. We shall return to it;
we shall examine its significance. At present I simply ask: Why this
resemblance? For there certainly is a resemblance between the way in
which they came here to try to close our mouths by declarations that
we were not permitted to discuss or to verify, and the insertion in
‘L’Eclair’ of a pretended proof, of which we shall speak again, but
which no longer weighs in the balance, because it is ridiculous, as are
also those which are brought forward today,--brought forward in the
same manner, at a similar moment, with the same intentions.
Irrefutable proof, proof in black and white of the treason, the proof
that resulted in the unanimous verdict of the council of war made
up of officers who have too long suffered under the cruel suspicion
cast upon them by the skilfully-sustained legend of the innocence of
Dreyfus. In our opinion, it is patriotic to break with the policy of
reticence, and to produce all the documents which rigorously show that
the judges of the military court declared their verdict with full
knowledge of the facts, and that Dreyfus, in spite of his denials, was
guilty, accused by numerous moral presumptions and by formal proofs,
one of which bore his name.
“It is a lie, and yet they make the declaration. I pass over very long
passages, and come to the essential part of the article. They tell the
story of the circumstances under which the prosecution of M. Dreyfus in
1894 was undertaken, the discovery of the _bordereau_, and then they
come to this matter which it is indispensable that I should make known
to you.
They were not slow, however, in putting their hands on a document of
exceptional importance, a document which later compelled the unanimous
decision of the judges. In September the military _attachés_ of the
German embassy addressed to their colleagues of the Italian embassy a
letter in cipher.
“This is another lie. The letter was not in cipher.
This letter left the hands of its authors to pass into the hands of
those for whom it was destined. But between the point of departure and
the point of arrival it was prudently photographed. It was a letter in
the cipher of the German embassy. About September 20 Colonel Sandherr,
chief of the statistical division, communicated to General Mercier
this letter, which had been deciphered. It related to the spying
service of Paris, and contained this phrase: “Decidedly, that animal
Dreyfus is becoming too exacting.”
“You know this document. We can speak of it. It has been referred to
in an official document which has been published--the report of Major
Ravary. It is the famous document that Colonel Henry and M. Gribelin
claim to have seen between Colonel Picquart and M. Leblois. But it is
a distorted document, and the author of this article, convinced that
he would thus fix public opinion forever, did not fear to write: ‘That
scoundrel Dreyfus,’ spelling the name out, when really the name Dreyfus
does not appear in the document. I come to the end of the article.
As soon as the file of documents had been delivered to the military
prosecuting officer, the examination began--an absolutely secret
examination. Dreyfus, who had again become master of himself....
“Yes, again become master of himself, because somewhere in the
article--and this is another lie--it is said that he had made
confessions.
Dreyfus, who had again become master of himself, persisted throughout
the trial, in spite of the overwhelming charges, in protesting his
innocence. It is true that Dreyfus did not know, and perhaps does not
yet know, that the minister of war was in possession of a photograph
of the letter exchanged between the German and Italian military
_attachés_, the only document in which his name appeared. The letter
which he had written, and which he had been careful not to sign, could
be only a moral element in the case.
“The reference here is to the _bordereau_.
In fact, though two of the experts in handwriting, Charavay and
Bertillon, declared that it was Dreyfus, the three others were in
doubt. But there was one proof that did not admit of doubt,--the
document in which Dreyfus was named. This document could settle the
opinion of the court, and it was important that the traitor should not
escape his punishment. But this so serious document was essentially
confidential. The minister of war could not give it up in the absence
of a demand from the courts. It was necessary, then, for a search
to be made in the war department itself. It took place, but, in
order to save the agent of the government from having to go through
so many secret files, it was so placed as to be the first to come
under his hand. It was stipulated, nevertheless, that, though thus
regularly seized, it should not be put in as evidence. Therefore it
was communicated to the judges alone in the consultation chamber. An
irrefutable proof, it settled all doubts in the minds of the members
of the council. They were unanimous in their decision as to the
prisoner’s guilt, and as to the punishment to be inflicted upon him.
“Such is the article, in substance. Three days after its appearance, M.
Demange, counsel of Dreyfus, meeting his old friend Salle, was greeted
thus:
“‘Ah! my good Demange, I am very glad to see you. I am very glad to
relieve myself of a secret that is on my conscience.’
“‘What do you mean?’ said Demange.
“‘Well, since it is published, I can tell you.’
“‘Published? What? What are you talking about?’
“‘Why, the article in “L’Eclair”! what it says about the secret
document is the truth. A few days after the verdict of the council of
war I was dining with a few friends, among whom was one of the officers
who had convicted Dreyfus. I said to him: “How is it that you were
unanimous in your condemnation? How do you explain such a sentence,
when Demange, whom I consider an honest man, tells me that there is
nothing in the file, that there has not been a moment when he was not
perfectly at ease regarding the innocence of his client, and that up to
the last moment he was confident of an acquittal? How do you explain
that?” “Oh!” answered the officer, “the reconciliation is easy. Demange
had not seen what we have seen. If he had, he would think as we do. He
would be convinced.”’
“There you have, then, what the article in ‘L’Eclair’ represented, so
far as the practical fact is concerned; such is the truth that is at
the bottom of it. The details are all lies, but the certain point is
that, at the council of war, without the knowledge of the accused or
his counsel, there was a communication of one or more secret documents,
and that, on the strength of these, a verdict was arrived at which
could not otherwise have been obtained. Was I right, then, in saying
to you that what was at first a preoccupation became in the minds of
some a source of anguish? Was such a communication possible, gentlemen?
I have just told you it was only too true. At first, it seemed beyond
belief, but the article was so well sustained! And, the declaration of
Demange coming on top of it, doubt was no longer possible. A feeling of
revolt was born in disturbed consciences. It was but a germ, yet this
germ was going to grow. The anguish was on the point of changing into
indignation when further confirmation came in ‘Le Matin’s’ publication
of the _bordereau_, in no way resembling the writing of Dreyfus. And
the indignation changed into stupefaction upon the appearance of the
indictment with which you must be familiar--I mean the d’Ormescheville
report, which astonished by its puerility all people who reason and
think, all _savants_ like M. Duclaux, like M. Paul Meyer, like M.
Grimaux, who have come here to tell you of a scientific spirit that
they expected to find in such a document, and which they did not find
at all.
“Since then, gentlemen, we have witnessed the daily growth of the
number of men who do not believe it their duty, I do not say before
the army, but before certain commanders of the army, to abdicate their
liberty of judgment. These think that no institution is above the
law. They are convinced that, a right having been violated, Dreyfus
having been illegally convicted, he must be tried again, whether
he be guilty or not,--a question which we shall discuss presently.
They are convinced that, in presence of such circumstances, no one
is justified in keeping silence, because it is a concern, not of an
individual interest, but of civilization itself. And, if I must tell
you, gentlemen, the _raison d’être_ of what is called the syndicate
is this. The common purpose of the syndicate, regardless of the
belief that one may entertain in the innocence of Dreyfus, at which
one arrives only gradually, at which you will have arrived day after
tomorrow,--regardless of that, the common object of the syndicate is
justice, right, the wounded ideal which we, in our turn, take in our
hands, and which, in spite of all furies, is our strength and our
protection. Syndicate, yes, but a syndicate of faith, a syndicate of
disinterestedness, a syndicate of hope. [A voice--“For money”.] If we
had paid you, perhaps you would shout in our favor.”
The Judge.--“M. Labori, do not address the public.”
M. Labori.--“_Monsieur le Président_, I ask your pardon, but I am
obliged to be my own policeman. And that astonishes me, gentlemen of
the jury, for the people who raise these protests fail in respect for
you, a group of judges, you who have had your anxieties, but who feel
the grandeur of your mission. But I know that, after a certain time,
threats will only strengthen you in your resolution to judge with
impartiality. So I resume, leaving those who murmur when I speak of
hope and disinterestedness to make such manifestations as they choose.
“Try, then, to explain otherwise what this man is doing here. What is
he? I should lower him, and lower myself, and lower you also, in trying
to represent him to you. He is not only a creative man of genius; he
is, for those who are capable of understanding, for those who penetrate
to the heart and substance of his works,--and his act of today is a
sure proof of it,--he is a poet, in spite of all violences of form;
and, as for his glory, it is not among these blind men that we must
seek his measure, but throughout Europe. What had he to gain here? He
had to gain a loss of time, a tempest of insults and outrages. Read the
newspapers, and you will know what one gains by such an act. What moves
him, then, if not the imperative necessity of acting in accordance with
his convictions? Admirably conscious of the power of the pen and of the
power of thought, he was determined, by a tremendous act, a violent
act, if you will, to harmonize his conduct with the inmost conviction
of his soul. That is what he wanted to do,--act.
“And action was necessary, gentlemen, on the morrow of the acquittal
of Major Esterhazy. On the morrow of that singular prosecution, which
ended in a verdict demanded from the tribune by the minister of war,
who, proclaiming Dreyfus justly and legally condemned, was unwilling
that another should be pronounced the author of the _bordereau_,--on
the morrow of this judicial decision which fell like a second stone
on the condemned man buried alive on Devil’s Island,--on the morrow
of that prosecution, all who had doubted, all who had been anxious,
all who had gradually arrived at certainty, all were struck with
stupefaction. There had to be some one to feel enough confidence in
himself, and enough authority over his fellow-citizens, to dare,
in consciousness of his power, which I admire and which was not
ill-founded, to proclaim loudly what many felt in secret, and to act.
For it was an act, gentlemen,--that letter that burst like a terrible
bomb. A revolutionary act, he called it; it was from him that the
attorney-general got the word. Revolutionary, yes, in the sphere of
thought. Nothing less than a revolution in this sphere was needed
to recall men’s minds to common sense and truth. M. Zola has begun
the revolution. It has not yet done much harm. You will finish it,
gentlemen, finish it peacefully, finish it by the verdict of acquittal
which I am going to ask of you, but not without first having a thorough
understanding with you as to its value and significance.
“How was it received, this act of M. Emile Zola? Some, a few, saw
in it a rallying-cry, and marched as at the sound of the cannon. The
demoniacs, struck down by an attack so crushing, and feeling that they
had no rivals in the art of insult, falsehood, and calumny, answered
by deafening clamor. The majority, of good faith, but indifferent,
suddenly aroused from their apathy by an act so unexpected, drew back
in astonishment. Their reasoning was twofold, and I must do justice
to it. They considered M. Zola’s letter too violent. They mistakenly
saw in it insults to the army. Dreyfus, they say, was condemned by his
peers. Esterhazy was acquitted by his. Behind all stands the staff.
We can never admit that an entire staff is guilty; rather admit that
Dreyfus is guilty than accept the conclusion that the others are
guilty. That is their argument; they have no other. But it has another
branch, which is this: There are men in the cabinet whom we can trust.
They know the truth. They do not ask for a revision. Therefore the
Dreyfus verdict was well rendered. Therefore Dreyfus is guilty, and was
justly condemned. That is their whole case.
“They forget, gentlemen, that things do not present themselves so
simply; that questions generally do not take the form of a dilemma;
that Dreyfus may be innocent, and yet they who condemn him may not have
been knowingly responsible and really guilty of any infamy. They do not
remember that their reasoning would apply to all judicial errors, from
the conviction of Jesus Christ to that of Pierre Vaux, including that
of Jeanne d’Arc herself. They forget that the _raison d’Etat_ can be
pleaded in behalf of the worst acts of government, from the massacre
of St. Bartholomew to the massacre of the hostages, including the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes, the reign of terror, and the legal
murder of the duc d’Enghien, also committed by a military tribunal.
“This reasoning, gentlemen, is terrible; it is cruel, false, absurd.
But that is not to say that with those who reason thus I am unwilling
to discuss. On the contrary, I believe them of good faith, I believe
them sincere; that is enough for me. I am convinced that, when they
understand the real truth, they will be with us; they will join the
great number of those who are coming to us daily, because they are
beginning to understand a matter upon which hitherto they have passed
in ignorance. And their ignorance we can easily understand, for we see
how difficult, not to say how impossible, it is for us to get at even a
part of the truth here in this court. So a word at first in answer to
their objections. They talk of insults to the army.
“Insults to the army? But, in the first place, what is the army? Does
it consist of a few personalities, however high they may be? Is it not
the entire nation, with a considerable number of officers, all of whom,
whether belonging to the staff or not, are worthy of the stripes that
they have won by their courage and their loyalty? And then, at their
head, a small number of permanent, experienced commanders, fallible, as
all men are,--and I do not insult them in saying so,--but surely worthy
of the respect of all, by reason of the lofty mission with which they
are invested. How, gentlemen, could Frenchmen be lacking in respect for
them, especially such a Frenchman as M. Emile Zola? Is he not one of
those who owe most to the French country, just as the French country
owes most to them? Is he not one of those who place the highest value
on French citizenship? And is he not, therefore, one of those who must
have the highest respect for the personification of France in the
French army itself?
“But does respect for the army mean that everything is permissible, I
do not say to the army, but to a few commanders of the army? Does it
mean that they form a caste apart, which, above other citizens, as M.
Méline said in the chamber on January 22, 1898, must not be submitted
to the jury? I am not inventing, gentlemen of the jury; here are his
words, uttered in answer to M. Paschal Grousset:
“‘I understand the significance of your interruption. You say: “You
have prosecuted, but you have not prosecuted everything.’” The matter
in question, you will understand, was M. Zola’s letter. ‘“You have left
out of the prosecution a part of the author’s charges.” Well, yes, we
did not think it our duty to submit the honor of the commanders of the
army to the decision of the jury.’
“And why? Is there in this country any citizen, whosoever he may be,
who is indispensable to the public welfare? No. There is not even a
necessary soldier. And, if, in execution of its threat, the staff were
to resign on the day after your verdict of acquittal, I am convinced
that in this admirable army hands would not be lacking to take up the
baton of command, and assure us the same safety from foreign attack. So
no vain threats. There are no necessary individuals in this country,
no men who escape the jurisdiction of the jury; and M. Méline, though
he is a prudent man,--M. Méline, who has the reputation of being a
moderate,--launched a bold word, which perhaps betrayed the deplorable
state of his mind, when he said: ‘We will not submit the honor of the
commanders of the army to a jury.’ No one here wishes to wound anyone
whomsoever. There is nothing in my words that can be offensive to
loyalty. And, as for you, gentlemen, I can only repeat the admirable
expression of M. Jaurès, much more exact than that of General de
Boisdeffre when he said: ‘You are France.’ You are not France, but you
are the legal conscience of France. M. Jaurès was right in saying so.
It is an admirable phrase, because it expresses an admirable idea, and
consequently everybody and all institutions in this country must be
respectfully submissive to you. Was I wrong, then, in saying that one
may respect the army without being obliged to abdicate his judgment
before certain army commanders? In our day, under the _régime_ which
still is, and which may remain, a _régime_ of liberty, no free mind can
admit that.
“And do you know why it must not be admitted, especially in this
country, and at this hour when democracy has made its way? Because, if
a military supremacy were to arise under these conditions, it would
be the most oppressive of all, more oppressive than the _régime_ of
the Turks or the Tartars, for in those countries, or rather among
those peoples, where an absolute military power reigns, there is a
responsibility,--the responsibility of the chief to his people, to
history, to his dynasty, to God sometimes (in the countries of divine
right), while in a country like ours, where there is no sole and
personal responsibility, military dictatorship, which would be the
dictatorship, not of a man, but of a bureau or a staff, would very
quickly degenerate into an anonymous oligarchy, without counterpoise,
without responsibility, a hundred times more cruel than any oppression
ever known. And, finishing, I say, gentlemen, that there is in France,
and that tomorrow there still will be in France, something more
powerful, something more respectable, than the army itself,--the law.
“Did M. Zola ever intend to say anything else? Has he insulted the
army? Permit me to remind you of a passage in his letter, which cannot
be reread too often.
They talk to us of the honor of the army. They want us to love it, to
respect it. Ah! certainly, yes, the army which would rise at the first
threat, which would defend French soil; that army is the whole people,
and we have for it nothing but tenderness and respect. But it is not a
question of that army, whose dignity is our special desire in our need
of justice. It is the sword that is in question, the master that they
may give us tomorrow. And piously kiss the sword-hilt, the god? No.
“Well, the sword is the exact symbol of that political state which I
have just tried to picture to you, and I have met from the audience
in this court-room, which is not, you will admit, made up by me, only
manifestations of sympathy at the expression of these ideas.
“So much for the matter of insults to the army. Now for the second
point. They have said to M. Zola: ‘Your letter is violent. It exceeds
its purpose. To justify such language, what proofs do you offer?’
“Before answering, gentlemen, we must understand each other. As I have
already said, M. Zola’s letter is an act, a resounding act, a brilliant
act; but it was committed deliberately. From what everybody has known,
from what everybody has seen and from what they have not seen, and also
from what he knows and has been able to tell you, as well as from what
he knows but has been prevented by his patriotism from telling you, he
has come to a conclusion which forced itself upon his mind. And what
is this conclusion? Does it fill him with a feeling of anger towards
certain army commanders? No, gentlemen. That he leaves to the friends,
to the actual supporters, I do not say of the army, for they insult the
army, but of the staff. Listen to what ‘L’Intransigeant’ said on March
3, 1897. I quote from a letter attributed to a superior officer in
active service, to ‘a person well informed,’ as they say of people to
whom they wish to attribute certain infamies, to give them credit and
authority. This article says:
It is monstrous to see the chief command of the army in the hands of a
septuagenarian....
“The reference here is to General Saussier, and it reminds one of the
opinions of Major Esterhazy.
A septuagenarian who, in peace as in war, was long ago judged at
his true value,--nothing. As for Boisdeffre, stupidly tainted with
a nobility which has not even the merit of being serious, he is, as
you say so precisely, a loafer, an ignoramus, full of assurance,
so _rossard_ that he has never had the courage to learn a word
of German, wherefore the chief of staff of the army, in order to
read the slightest note in this language, is obliged to summon an
interpreter. How the Prussians must laugh at us! Moreover, thanks
to these commanders,--like masters, like subordinates,--this staff
is so singular that the superior officer at the head of the famous
S. R. [_Service de Renseignements_, Service of Information]--the
reference here must be to Colonel Henry--knows not a word of any
foreign language. As for the generalissimo, Saussier, he was a brave
captain in the old African army, who afterwards became a general and
a detestable tactician, today completely foundered. From these chief
commanders we may not judge of all the others,--for fortunately there
are some good ones,--but we may judge of the new and terrible wasps’
nest in which we should find ourselves, in case of a _coup de torchon_.
“If you continue, you will find the same language and the
same expressions. Here is an unsigned article that appeared in
‘L’Intransigeant’ October 3, 1897.
Military justice, as lame as the other justice, but blinder and more
crying. These crying injustices are revolting, and create revolt in
the minds of the soldiers,--moreover, a legitimate revolt.
“And, on July 14, 1896, we find this, over the signature of M.
Rochefort:
One embraces the military profession only in the hope of killing
men, and, when one is not strong enough to kill those of the others,
one exterminates his own. The grand belief of the idiots who have
succeeded one another in the war department is that, if we were beaten
in 1870, it is because our troops were insufficiently disciplined.
“And in the same newspaper, on September 7, 1897, I find this:
Passive obedience, ferocious egoism and brutality, those are the
great principles that they try to beat into the hearts and brains
of the soldiers. If the army were really a great family; if it were
the school of honor, dignity, and duty; if it were the democratic
institution which befits the French people,--it would be invincible,
and there would be no deserters from it. But the truth is that they
try to make mercenaries of our soldiers, and that the proudest, the
most enlightened, the most ardent, the best among them, are those who
feel the most imperative need of avoiding so odious a _rôle_.
“And there is one more passage that I wish to read, also by M.
Rochefort, which appeared on Friday, April 12, 1894.
The people regret to see that this famous military spirit succeeds in
a very short time in reducing the finest minds to a state of atrophy.
Recent verdicts rendered by councils of war show that there is a
real national danger in leaving longer to judges so ill prepared for
judicial functions the right of life and death over accused persons
whose guilt they are not capable of passing upon.
“And, if, gentlemen, we open ‘La Libre Parole’ of November 5, 1894, we
find this from the pen of M. Drumont:
Look at that ministry of war which ought to be the sanctuary of
patriotism, and which is a place of perpetual scandal, a cloaca that
cannot be compared to the Augean stables, for as yet no Hercules has
tried to clean it. In such an establishment honor and truth ought to
be embalmed, but, in reality, there is always something there that
stinks.
“And, finally, gentlemen, I read to you a letter that appears in
‘L’Autorité’ of this morning under the title ‘Billot.’