The Judge.--“In view of the demand of the defence, the council will
retire for deliberation.”
M. Demange.--“One word more. If we ask publicity, let it be well
understood that we do not do so from any belief that your decision
will be governed by publicity. We know that you will decide according
to your conscience, and that your impartiality will not be affected by
a closing of the doors. But no one will contradict me, if I declare
that for the last seven weeks the honor of an officer of the French
army has been exposed to all sorts of rumors.”
At these words the presiding judge rises abruptly and says:
“By virtue of my discretionary power, I order that the council now
retire.”
M. Demange.--“I ask a record of the interruption to which my remarks
are thus subjected.”
“Yes, I give you the record,” said the judge, as he withdrew.
And the council retired amid much excitement.
“You see, gentlemen, that everything was done to make the darkness
complete. I do not say that the members of the council of war are to
be suspected of bad faith. I do not say that, knowing Dreyfus to be
innocent, they were determined to convict him at any rate. But I do say
that, having entered upon a certain path, a little lightly and almost
unconsciously, these men of good faith worked upon themselves by a
phenomenon of auto-suggestion which it is very easy to understand. In
this respect nothing is more characteristic than the exhibition that M.
Bertillon made of himself here. So convinced that he had become as deaf
as a stone to the truth, he said: ‘Though I should be shown a hundred
officers in the French army who could have written the _bordereau_, I
would declare nevertheless that Dreyfus wrote it, because I have the
proof.’
“I add, gentlemen, that it was with the best faith in the world that
Colonel Maurel, who presided over the council of war, exhibited the
brutality and rudeness of which I have just given you the proof,
unaware that he was thus rushing into error perhaps, and at any rate
into the illegality that was to come.
“Such, gentlemen, was the position of the Dreyfus case at the opening
of the trial before the council of war. Do not think that the trial
added anything to the charges. The minister of war, speaking from the
tribune of the chamber, has referred to the fact that twenty-seven
officers were called as witnesses. In the first place, it is to be
noted that these twenty-seven officers included witnesses in favor of
Dreyfus as well as witnesses against him. But, for or against, it is
now plain that their evidence amounted to nothing. If there existed any
serious facts regarding this matter of spying; if there existed between
Dreyfus and any foreigner designated by name, between Dreyfus and
specified spying agencies, between Dreyfus and definite international
agencies, suspicious and intimate relations; if there had been any
suspicious journeys or any guilty connections,--they would have been
proclaimed before this. Perhaps they would not have been spoken of to
M. Trarieux or to M. Scheurer-Kestner, and, when the latter went to
see his old friend General Billot, perhaps his old friend would not
have taken him into his confidence. But it would have been printed
baldly in ‘Le Jour,’ in ‘L’Echo de Paris,’ in ‘L’Eclair,’ which are the
recipients of the confidential declarations of the staff. And, if they
had not done that, they certainly would have proclaimed them here; and
General de Pellieux, if he had been in possession of serious proofs
of an earlier date than that of the conviction, would not have been
reduced to the introduction into this trial of pretended proofs of a
later date, of no more significance than the others.
“Such, then, was the position of the prosecution at the beginning
of the trial before the council of war. And, before approaching the
capital fact that led to the condemnation,--I mean the communication
to the council of one or more secret documents,--I desire to say a
word of a certain method that has been employed on several occasions
during the last few months to close the mouths of those who champion
Dreyfus’s cause. I refer to the confessions said to have been made
by him to Captain Lebrun-Renault, on the day of his degradation. If
you had been allowed to hear testimony on this matter, you would
know what these confessions amount to. You would have seen Captain
Lebrun-Renault at this bar. If he had been the first witness to be
heard on this point, perhaps they would have allowed him to say that
he had received confessions; after which they would have closed the
mouths of any witnesses that might have come to contradict him, on
the ground that they were talking of the Dreyfus case, and we should
have been prohibited from asking any questions. He did not come, but
be sure that, if he had come, he would have told a story of pretended
confessions. Only, if I had been allowed to question him, I should have
asked: ‘At what date did you record these confessions?’ And, if I am
not greatly mistaken, he would have answered me that he recorded them
at a very recent date,--November, 1897. Then I would have answered him,
gentlemen, by a succession of witnesses. We should have seen at this
bar M. Clisson, who, in ‘Le Figaro,’ on the day after the degradation,
told a story in which, though he had received the confidences of M.
Lebrun-Renault, he did not say a word of any confession. His story
would have been confirmed by M. Dumont and M. Fontbrune; and finally
we should have called to the stand various other persons, notably the
baron de Vaux and Mme. Chapelon. I speak of Mme. Chapelon, because
in her case no sort of doubt is possible. She gave an interview to
‘L’Aurore,’ which appeared in that journal on January 25, 1898. That
interview concludes thus:
“Do you assert that Captain Lebrun-Renault has always declared that
ex-Captain Dreyfus made him no confession?”
“I assert it on my honor.”
And solemnly Mme. Chapelon added, as we took our departure: ‘I swear
it.’
“Would Mme. Chapelon have come here to maintain her declaration under
oath? There is reason to doubt it, since she afterward went to the
office of ‘L’Aurore’ to declare that she was anxious, that threats had
been made to her, and that, yielding to these threats, she would not
testify. Here, indeed, is the account given by M. Philippe Dubois,
which I read from ‘Le Temps’ of February 12, 1898.
M. Dubois was summoned regarding the pretended confessions of Dreyfus.
The judge having refused to put to Major Forzinetti the question
relating to the confessions, M. Labori abandoned the hearing of all
the witnesses who were to testify on this point. M. Dubois says that
he desired to tell the court that a certain Mme. Chapelon, whose
husband was intimately connected with M. Lebrun-Renault, had declared
to one of his collaborators on ‘L’Aurore’ that, not once only, but a
hundred times, Captain Lebrun-Renault had said to his associates that
he never had received any important confidence from the ex-captain.
“L’Aurore” having reproduced these declarations, M. Dubois received
a visit from Mme. Chapelon, who expressed a fear that she might lose
her situation, and that her son might not obtain the scholarship
at Chaptal which he was seeking. Mme. Chapelon was taken into the
office of M. Clemenceau. In his presence and in the presence of M.
Gohier, she confirmed the remarks that had been attributed to her by
“L’Aurore,” and again expressed her fears, adding that, to save her
situation, she would refuse to speak before the assize court.
“If Mme. Chapelon had not come, we should have heard MM. Dubois and
Gohier, in whose presence she made her declaration. Since then,
an incident has occurred between Major Forzinetti and Captain
Lebrun-Renault, of which you undoubtedly know through the newspapers,
and which seems to me sufficiently serious to make it indispensable
that I recall it to you. The story is told in ‘Le Temps’ of February
12, 1898, in the following language:
M. Dubois, one of the editors of “L’Aurore,” who was summoned as a
witness in the Zola trial, relates an incident that occurred yesterday
afternoon in the witnesses’ corridor between Major Forzinetti and
Captain Lebrun-Renault. “During the last recess,” says M. Dubois,
“Captain Lebrun-Renault was walking up and down the room, when, in my
presence, Major Forzinetti approached him and said:
‘A newspaper pretends that you have declared to a deputy, whose
name I do not remember, that you have never said anything regarding
Dreyfus. Now, you know very well that, when, six months ago, I asked
you a precise question, you told me that Dreyfus had never made any
confession to you.’
“Visibly embarrassed, Captain Lebrun-Renault sought to evade the
question, but Major Forzinetti followed him up.
“‘Come, let me refresh your memory. You even added that you had been
very much annoyed by this matter, and that, in consequence of the
newspaper stories, you had been summoned before the minister of war,
and then before the president of the republic.’
“As Captain Lebrun-Renault still did not answer, but tried to escape,
Major Forzinetti seized his cloak, and shouted:
“‘If you used the language that is attributed to you, you are an
infamous liar.’
“The witnesses of this scene intervened. General Gonse, who was
present, said to M. Forzinetti:
“‘In these things we get too much excited. Come, Major, calm yourself.’
“And that was all. Captain Lebrun-Renault went into the room assigned
to the witnesses for the prosecution, and General Gonse shook hands
with the former superintendent of Cherche-Midi.”
This morning we asked Major Forzinetti ...
“And it is because of this concluding paragraph that I read the extract.
This morning we asked Major Forzinetti if the story in “L’Aurore”
was true. “Absolutely,” he answered. “I add that there is no trace
of any confession on the part of Dreyfus in the report addressed,
according to custom, by the captain to his corps commander, concerning
his mission as a chief of escort, entrusted to him on the day of
degradation. If there is any report from Captain Lebrun-Renault in
which such confessions are mentioned, it was made afterward.”
“That, gentlemen, is the point that I desired to establish. If any
confessions exist, or, rather, any record of pretended confessions,
this record was made long afterward. But we may judge of this matter,
not by the declarations of any witnesses whatsoever, but by the
attitude of the government, and by that of the prime minister himself.
You remember, gentlemen, that a few weeks ago certain members of the
Left invited the government to publish these confessions. Whereupon the
government published this singular note, officially communicated to the
newspapers.
Several journals ask the minister of war to publish the declarations
made to Captain Lebrun-Renault by Dreyfus on the day of the execution
of the sentence of the council of war. Were the government to publish
these, it would call in question, and seem to throw doubt upon,
the authority of the thing judged. We are in a position to know,
moreover, that the government thinks it has no right to make such a
communication, for reasons analogous to those which determined the
council of 1894 to order closed doors.
“This note, gentlemen, was followed by an interpellation. M. Godefroy
Cavaignac insisted that the government should communicate the document,
and the attitude taken by the president is very interesting. Answering
M. Cavaignac, M. Méline said:
We are asked the reasons why the government thinks that it may not
publish the declaration of Captain Lebrun-Renault, received on the day
of the execution of the Dreyfus trial. I admit--and everyone knows
it--that there is such a declaration. It seems to me that the note of
L’Agence Havas, concerning which M. Cavaignac questions me, said so
with sufficient clearness. The first reason why the government thinks
that it should not repeat this declaration from the tribune is that
the chamber, the parliament, the government, have so far steadily
refused--and rightly, in my view--to discuss the matter. From the
first we have declared that this affair was of a judicial nature ...
“And when an affair is of a judicial nature, you know the pretence that
they make is that it is of a political nature, and that considerations
of national defence do not allow the bringing out of the light.
From the first we have declared that this affair was of a judicial
nature, and must preserve this character; that the public powers, in
handing it over to parliamentary discussion, would completely change
its nature, and effect a veritable confusion of powers. Yet to such a
discussion M. Cavaignac invites us today. He has proved it by trying
to enter into the substance of the matter, and by reading certain
pamphlets relating to the case. It is not to be doubted that, if the
declaration of Captain Lebrun-Renault were read from the tribune, it
would be discussed, for, everything is discussed in this case. The
discussion once opened, you could not stop it, and we should soon
be involved in a debate concerning the question of revision. The
tendency would be to encourage the belief that, without this document,
the verdict could not stand. Now we have always proclaimed,--and we
repeat it,--that the verdict is sufficient unto itself. It is the
legal truth. Nobody has a right to discuss it. This said, I give
the last reasons, which are but supplementary to the others, for
they are not needed. We consider that the publication would involve
serious embarrassments, and the same reasons that determined the
judges to order closed doors forbid us to publish this document, the
significance of which, however, I do not wish to exaggerate.
“Well, gentlemen, I ask you if we can be content with such reasons.
What is, then, this excessive respect for form? The thing judged, the
thing judged, even illegally judged? Would they thus appeal to form,
if, by a word, by a decisive document, they could close the mouths
of those whom they accuse of agitating the public by a pernicious
campaign? The government, gentlemen, is not bound to respect the thing
judged. It is its duty, when it can, to quiet the public conscience.
Then, if M. Lebrun-Renault’s declaration has any value, what is the
meaning of the government’s reserve? The truth is that it has no value,
and I shall tell you why.
“I do not look at the matter solely from the standpoint of the
evidence that M. Lebrun-Renault would have given, and of the
contradictions with which we should have met him. I take the ground
that the attitude of Dreyfus throughout is a protest against these
pretended confessions. And here pardon me for reading once more. My
longest quotations come in this first part of the argument; and, when
we shall have finished with them, we shall go on faster; but they are
indispensable to enable you to travel this long road, step by step, as
it has been travelled by all who have arrived at our opinion.
“There is a scene, gentlemen, which it is necessary for you to
review,--the degradation. I know none of more grandeur, none that,
from a moral point of view, could have greater influence in a trial
like this. Again from ‘L’Autorité’ I borrow the story,--a journal that
entertains a hostility towards Dreyfus that amounts to hatred. I might
read you also ‘La Libre Parole’s’ version; it is almost the same thing.
If you listen as judges, you will see how things can be distorted by
prejudice and passion. You will see how this man’s proclamations of
his innocence, which tell me that he is innocent, are received as
indications of cynicism, and are met by a clamor of wrath and hatred.
I want you to see that, gentlemen; and do not forget that I read the
story as told by an enemy.
The School clock strikes the first stroke of the hour of nine. General
Darras lifts his sword and utters the command, repeated from company
to company: “Carry arms!”
The troops execute the movement. Absolute silence follows. Hearts
cease to beat, and all eyes are directed toward the right-hand corner
of the square, where Dreyfus has been confined in a small building.
Soon a little group appears. It consists of Alfred Dreyfus, surrounded
by four artillerymen, accompanied by a lieutenant of the republican
guard. Between the forms of the artillerymen may be seen very clearly
the gilt stripes and glittering sword of the captain, and one may
distinguish at a distance the black sword-knot at the hilt of the
sword. Dreyfus walks with a firm step.
“See how erect the scoundrel is,” they say.
The group starts toward General Darras, in front of whom is the clerk
of the council of war, M. Vallecalle. A clamor goes up from the crowd.
But the group stops. Again there is silence, this time tragic. The
cannoneers accompanying Dreyfus step back a little; the condemned man
appears, detached from the group. The clerk salutes the general in
military fashion, and, turning to Dreyfus, reads in a very distinct
voice the sentence condemning him to exile and imprisonment in a
fortified spot, and to military degradation. Then the clerk turns to
the general again, and makes the military salute. Dreyfus has listened
in silence. Then is heard the voice of General Darras, and, although
there is a touch of emotion in it, this phrase is distinctly heard:
“Dreyfus, you are unworthy to bear arms. In the name of the French
people, we degrade you.”
Then Dreyfus is seen to raise both his arms, and, holding his head
high, cry in a loud voice, in which there is not the slightest trace
of tremor:
“I am innocent. I swear that I am innocent. Long live France!”
“Death to him!” is the immense shout that goes up from the crowd.
But immediately the noise subsides. The adjutant entrusted with the
sad mission of taking off his stripes has laid hand upon Dreyfus,
and already the first stripes, which had been loosened in advance,
have been torn off by him and thrown upon the ground. Again Dreyfus
protests against his condemnation, and his cries reach the crowd very
distinctly.
“On the head of my wife and the heads of my children I swear that I am
innocent. I swear it. Long live France!”
Meanwhile the adjutant has very swiftly torn the bands from his cap,
the stripes from his sleeves, the buttons from his dolman, the numbers
from his collar, and from his pantaloons the red band which the
condemned man has worn since he entered the Polytechnic school. There
remains the sword. The adjutant draws it, and breaks it across his
knee. A snapping sound, and the two pieces lie with the rest upon the
ground. Then the sword-belt is detached, and the scabbard falls in its
turn.
It is finished. These seconds have seemed a century. Never was there
an impression of acuter anguish. And again, clear, without sign
of emotion, the voice of the condemned man rises: “You degrade an
innocent man.”
Now he has to pass before his former comrades and subordinates. For
any other it would have been a frightful torture.
“You are listening to his enemies, gentlemen of the jury.
Dreyfus, however, does not seem embarrassed. He strides over what
were the insignia of his office, which two _gendarmes_ will presently
pick up, and places himself before the four cannoneers, who lead him
before General Darras. The little group, with the two officers of the
republican guard at the head, starts toward the band placed before
the prison vehicle, and begins to march along the line of troops, at
a distance of about a yard. Still Dreyfus walks with head erect. The
public shout “Death to him!” Soon he nears the railing; the crowd has
a better view of him; the shouts increase. Thousands of lungs call for
the death of the wretch, who shouts again: “I am innocent. Long live
France!” The crowd does not understand, but it has seen Dreyfus turn
toward it and shout. A storm of hisses answers him; then a clamor that
traverses the vast court-yard like a tempest. “Death to him! Death to
him!” And outside there is a terrible swaying of the dark mass, and
the agents have the greatest difficulty in preventing the people from
rushing upon the Military School and taking the place by storm, in
order to do swifter and more rational justice to the infamy of Dreyfus.
Dreyfus continues his march. He reaches the group of journalists.
“You will say to entire France,” he says, “that I am innocent.”
“Silence, wretch!” answer some, while others shout: “Coward! Traitor!
Judas!”
Under the insult the abject personage straightens up. He casts at us a
glance of ferocious hatred.
“You have no right to insult me.”
A clear voice comes from the group, answering:
“You know well that you are not innocent.”
“Long live France! Dirty Jew!” they shout again, and Dreyfus goes on
his way.
His garments have a pitiful look. In place of the stripes hang long
bits of thread, and the cap has lost its shape. Dreyfus straightens
up again, but he has now passed only half the line of troops, and it
is evident that the continual shouts of the crowd and the various
incidents of the parade are beginning to tell upon him. Though the
head of the wretch is turned insolently toward the troops, whom he
seems to defy, his legs are beginning to weaken, and his gait seems
heavier. The group makes slow progress. Now it passes before the
“Blues.” The tour of the square is finished. Dreyfus is handed over
to the two _gendarmes_ who picked up his stripes and the remnants of
his sword. They put him in the prison vehicle. The coachman whips up
his horses and the wagon starts off, surrounded by a detachment of
republican guards, preceded by two with drawn revolvers. The parade
has lasted just ten minutes.
After the parade Dreyfus was taken to the anthropometric department.
The operation of measuring lasted another ten minutes. From beginning
to end the condemned man was perfectly calm, and maintained an
absolute silence. Then several photographs were taken, after which he
was returned to his cell, where he again protested his innocence.
“Such, gentlemen, was the attitude of Dreyfus. You are to judge of it
for yourselves. It is tragic to reread such a recital after an interval
of three years, and under the present dramatic circumstances, but it
was necessary for you to hear it. And after the degradation? After
and before, rather? Let me read you the letters that he wrote to the
minister of war and to his counsel.
_Monsieur le Ministre_:
I have received by your orders the visit of Major du Paty de Clam, to
whom I have again declared that I am innocent, and have never been
guilty of the slightest imprudence. I am condemned. I have no pardon
to ask. But, in the name of my honor, which, I hope, will one day be
restored, it is my duty to beg you to continue your investigations.
After I am gone, let the search go on. That is the only favor that I
ask.
“And here is the letter that he wrote to M. Demange on the eve of his
degradation: