The Judge.--“M. Labori, you have the floor to continue your argument.”
M. Labori.--“I have shown you the value of all the lies scattered
through the trial. I have endeavored also to establish the value
of the famous secret document. Before entering into the heart of
the discussion, it remains for me to speak to you of the pretended
proofs--absolute this time, they declare--of which General de
Pellieux and General de Boisdeffre have spoken at one of the later
sessions. No more importance attaches to this proof than to the rest,
as I shall prove to you irrefutably, though I have not the document
before my eyes. I would not have complained of General de Pellieux’s
sensational declaration, if I had been permitted, not to answer him,
but to question the witnesses. But I was not permitted, and that is
the saddest incident of this trial,--an incident which threatened
for a moment to turn aside the course of the trial by a species of
moral violence practised upon the defence. We asked ourselves what we
should do, and then we said to ourselves that, whatever might happen,
it was necessary to go to the end,--sadly, but courageously. If we
could have asked General de Pellieux and General de Boisdeffre to
explain themselves more in detail, the proof of the emptiness of their
statements would have been made on the spot. We should have asked the
original of the pretended documents. Now I am going to prove to you
that, while one of the two documents, the visiting-card, is authentic,
the note that accompanied it is a forgery.
“What are these two documents? There is, first, the visiting-card of
a military _attaché_;--I will name him, if I am obliged to;--it is
authentic. It makes a _rendezvous_ with another military _attaché_.
Only, at the bottom of this visiting-card, there is a borrowed
name,--no matter what; call it Claude, if you like,--whereas the
visiting-card is that of M. de X----. We will say that the _rendezvous_
is signed ‘Claude’; then, beside this card, there is a note, which
says: ‘We have nothing in common with this Jew.’ Or perhaps this:
‘There is to be an interpellation concerning the Dreyfus case. It
is always understood, of course, that, even _vis-à-vis_ of our
governments, we have never had dealings with this Jewry,’ signed
‘Claude,’ like the card.
“It is in a counterfeited handwriting, a note not authenticated in any
way, the card being a puerile device for lending an appearance of truth
to the note. But, gentlemen, I ask you: Is it likely, is it possible,
that two military _attachés_ would feel any necessity of recommending
to each other the policy of silence concerning this matter? Why? Who
is going to question them? To whom must they render accounts? Have
not their governments known the whole truth about this matter ever
since 1894? _A propos_ of what do they thus write in 1896? And why add
to this anonymous note a card, and an authentic card, upon which an
insignificant _rendezvous_ is made? It was not difficult to procure
such a card. You can pick up the card of a military _attaché_--or of an
ambassador, for that matter--anywhere. Would it not have been an easy
matter for a police spy to procure it? Among the police spies there
are sometimes sharpers. Policemen, you know, are not the finest flower
of humanity. I refer, not to their chiefs, but to the subordinates
who necessarily make a trade of treason. Do you not suppose that,
when a public trouble like this comes up, they are too glad to find
an opportunity of making money out of anybody? There are police
spies--and, if the department of foreign affairs wants more complete
information, I will furnish it,--there are police spies who imitate,
who forge, the handwriting of military _attachés_. What has the forger
done? He has placed upon the card of the military _attaché_ the false
signature ‘Claude,’ and then, imitating the writing or not imitating
it, he has affixed the name ‘Claude’ to the anonymous paper. That,
gentlemen, is the whole swindle.
“Is it likely that military _attachés_ would write on such a question,
after the famous history of the _bordereau_, which is said to have been
found in a waste-basket in 1894? Whether it was so found or not, it was
a warning to military _attachés_.
“And at what moment is this said to have been written? In November,
1896, on the return from the grand manœuvres which they attended,--a
time, when, as the entire diplomatic world knows, the three military
_attachés_ of the Triple Alliance were seeing one another every day, to
come to a common agreement upon the reports to be sent by each to his
government.
“Was not Colonel Picquart,--from whom I do not get these facts--was not
Colonel Picquart justified, then, in saying at this bar, not that his
superiors had committed a forgery, not that they had dishonestly made
use of a forgery, but that the document to which they appealed in good
faith is a forgery?
“If these documents had had any value, do you believe that Colonel
Picquart would have been sent on a mission in November, 1896? Do you
believe that the minister of war and the president of the cabinet would
have been silent regarding them, when the country was so profoundly
stirred? If they had done so, gentlemen, and if the document was a
serious one, they would have been the greatest of wretches. They would
have allowed the anguish to continue, when they might have put a stop
to it. They did not do so, because the document was not serious;
because, shrewd political men as they are, accustomed to deal with
forgeries and intrigues, they gauged its significance at once. This
brave General de Pellieux has acted in good faith in the matter, but he
was mistaken.
“The attorney-general forces us to plead here, in order to secure
our acquittal, that the verdict of the council of war was rendered
in obedience to orders. I will come to that. But right here let me
ask what General de Pellieux and General de Boisdeffre, with the
countenance of the court, and with the best faith in the world, have
asked of you here, if not a verdict in obedience to orders? What was
their mission in this court, if not to repeat the _coup_ of the secret
document? I use the familiar word, because there is none that better
expresses my thought.
“And now, gentlemen, that the ground is cleared, let us come back to
the basis of the accusation, the _bordereau_, the letter of 1894. In
the first place, I must point out that the charge was incomplete,
because the origin of the document was not established. You have heard
all the experts say that expert examination in handwriting signifies
nothing in itself; it is to be considered only in connection with the
full knowledge of the facts in a given case. Well, gentlemen, what is
more important in a trial of this character than to know the source
of such a paper as the _bordereau_, to know where it was seized? Is
not such knowledge indispensable, in order to enable the accused
to establish, perhaps, that the _bordereau_, seized where it was,
could not have emanated from him, because he had been in no sort of
relations with the persons on whose premises it was found, and in no
way connected with the place where it was found? A man is not to be
confronted with a document, unless it be said to him: ‘This document
comes from such a spot; it was addressed to such a person, with whom
you are in relations.’ Otherwise, a terrible blunder may be committed,
as all the experts have told you. Now listen to the report of Major
d’Ormescheville.
The basis of the accusation against Captain Dreyfus is a
letter-missive written on onion-skin paper, not signed or dated, which
is in the file, and which establishes the fact that confidential
military documents have been delivered to an agent of a foreign power.
General Gonse, sub-chief of general staff, into whose hands this
letter came, delivered it on October 15 last to Major du Paty de Clam,
delegated October 14, 1894, by the minister of war, as a judicial
officer of police to conduct an examination concerning Captain
Dreyfus. General Gonse declared to the aforesaid judicial officer of
police that the letter had been addressed to a foreign power, and
that it had reached his hands, but that, by the formal orders of the
minister of war, ...
“Remember that this minister of war was General Mercier.
But that, by the formal orders of the minister of war, he was
prevented from saying by what means the document had come into his
possession.
“I know what the answer will be. It will be the eternal pretext of
national security. But how was that concerned in view of the fact that
the doors were closed? I say to the audacious apostles of the _raison
d’Etat_, which might have had its justification under Louis XIV or
under Napoleon, but which has no justification today,--I answer to
these archaic apostles of an idea henceforth destroyed: If you invoke
the _raison d’Etat_, invoke it to the end, but do not try people. If,
General Mercier, you were sure of the guilt of the traitor, and if
you felt sufficient firmness of heart to assume the responsibility of
prosecution under conditions so lamentable, it was not even necessary
to carry out the prosecution. You should have struck this man on
your own responsibility, ruined him definitively, plunged him into I
know not what abyss or what dungeon, that he might never more have
been heard of; but you should not have given us the spectacle of a
lamentable and audacious judicial comedy.
“But let us go on, gentlemen. The question, here, then, is one of
writing, pure and simple; that is the charge. Since then, a fact of
great importance has come to light; writing identical with that of the
_bordereau_ has been discovered. We will not ask at this moment in
whose hand this document has been written? The very subtle distinction
of the experts has not escaped you. The writing of a document may be
the writing of a certain person, and yet the document may not be of
this person’s hand, because it may be forged or traced. There may
be room for discussion as to whether the _bordereau_ was forged, as
to whether it was traced, but there is no room for discussion as to
the identity of handwritings, and the proof is that Major Esterhazy
admitted it from the first day, even before he was denounced. And it
is an interesting fact in this case that, on the eve of every new
development, from whatever direction, Major Esterhazy foretold it, and,
even before the documents were published, he announced a plot woven by
a certain Colonel X or Y, which was intended to ruin him, and in the
course of which would be produced a writing frightfully like his own.
Then, gentlemen, there is no doubt. I do not say that the _bordereau_
is of the hand of Major Esterhazy. I will come to that later. I say
the writing of the _bordereau_, is the writing of Major Esterhazy.
Well, confining myself to that for the moment, there is a contradiction
between this and the conclusions of the experts in 1894. We know very
well that, if the _bordereau_ is in a handwriting identical with that
of Major Esterhazy, it is not the writing of Dreyfus. The hypothesis
of a tracing by Dreyfus is inadmissible. If Dreyfus has imitated any
handwriting, it is, M. Bertillon tells us, his own. Never has it been
supposed that he imitated Major Esterhazy’s handwriting, and, if he had
done so, it would have been with some design. And then, being accused,
he would have denounced Major Esterhazy, or made it known, by some more
or less ingenious method, that the writing was that of Major Esterhazy.
Gentlemen, I am going now to make a remark which, so far as I know,
has not been made before, and which seems to me to be of considerable
interest. I read first from the report of the examination of 1894.
Every interrogatory to which the accused was submitted before the
judicial officer of police is full of the persistent denials and
protests of Captain Dreyfus regarding the crime charged. At first
Captain Dreyfus said that he seemed to recognize vaguely in the
incriminated document the writing of an officer employed in the staff
offices. Later he withdrew this allegation, which, moreover, was bound
to fall of itself, in view of the complete dissimilarity between the
writing of the officer mentioned and that of the incriminated document.
“Consequently you see that it occurred to Dreyfus, crushed under the
weight of this undecipherable enigma, to say: ‘The _bordereau_ is
not my work, but the writing resembles certain other handwritings.’
He designated some one. This some one was not the author of the
_bordereau_. He did not designate Major Esterhazy. Now, if he had
traced the handwriting of Major Esterhazy, he would have attributed to
Major Esterhazy the authorship of the document. But he said nothing of
the kind. Consequently, whatever may be the truth as to the hand that
traced the _bordereau_, and as to the circumstances under which it was
traced, one thing is certain,--that, given the handwriting of Major
Esterhazy, the _bordereau_ cannot be in the handwriting of Dreyfus,
and that it could not have been traced by Dreyfus, since it has never
been pretended that Dreyfus traced any handwriting but his own. So,
concerning the _bordereau_, I am perfectly easy. Whatever its source,
it did not come from Dreyfus.
“The council of war of 1894, which was not acquainted with Major
Esterhazy’s handwriting, and to which it had not been submitted, did
not have before it those elements of information that we have today.
It had nothing before it but a simple question of handwriting; and you
understand what I mean by those words, since I have shown you that they
knew nothing of the _bordereau_,--that its origin had not been revealed
to the judges. Well, never would any court have condemned a man on this
handwriting alone.
“I have among my documents some very interesting and curious ones.
First, a treatise on handwriting by M. Bertillon. It had been my
intention, before I realized that my argument would assume such
proportions, to read you the whole of this treatise, but, desiring to
spare your time, I will read only the beginning.
When our criminologists are questioned regarding the way in which
expert testimony is generally conducted in France, they either avoid
the question, or take refuge in generalities. If you only knew, they
say, how unimportant the matter is, and how little belief we have in
the pretended science of the handwriting experts. This scepticism,
however, does not prevent them from obeying the instructions of the
law to take and follow the advice of appointed experts. Among the
members of the bar this insufficiency of belief becomes atheism, and
there is no end to the jokes and legends which you will hear at the
Palace regarding the handwriting experts, who, if we may believe the
lawyers, know less about their specialty than the first-comer. Let
us add, moreover, that with the exception of the recent aid supplied
by photography and the microscope, the art of the expert does not
seem to have taken a forward step since Raveneau, the expert of the
time of Louis XIV. Consequently it is not astonishing if public
opinion, in spite of its proneness to allow itself to be imposed
upon by specialists of all sorts, shares the incredulity concerning
handwriting which has been consecrated by centuries.
And yet the comparison of handwritings, considered as one of the
elements of proof by writing,--first of proofs according to the
code,--cannot be systematically set aside. Expert examination of
handwriting is a decisive weapon in the hands of the defence,
where the presumption of innocence carries with it the right of
acquittal, but, in the hands of the prosecution, where nothing less
than certainty will suffice, it constitutes only an indispensable
precaution, one of those numerous verifications to which every thesis
must be submitted.
“I should like, gentlemen, to read the whole article. It appeared in
‘La Revue Scientifique’ of December 18, 1897, and I assure you that it
had seemed to me of great value from the standpoint of my discussion,
before I had witnessed these confrontations of experts, which, as a
living picture, are more powerful than any reading. I had brought also
an article by M. des Houx,--I have told you that I would borrow weapons
only from our enemies,--an article entitled ‘The Graphologists,’ which
is often read in the assize court, and which sums up in a delightfully
humorous way some of the characteristics of the experts. This article,
too, I should have liked to read you in full, but let this amusing bit
suffice.
Once an expert was discussing before the presiding judge Bérard des
Glasjeux the similarity in writing between an anonymous document and
other documents introduced for comparison.
“The writing of the anonymous documents,” said he, “in no way
resembles that of the other documents, but in one corner of the paper
there is a marginal note in pencil. This is clearly in the hand of the
accused. There is no doubt about it.”
“Then,” said the judge, “I am the forger. I am the author of the
marginal note.”
The Attorney-General.--“What expert was it who said that?”
M. Labori.--“_Mon Dieu_, Monsieur Attorney-General, his name is not
given. But the anecdote is famous. My _confrère_, M. Hild, who had a
case here some time ago, cited it as a classic, and I add that it was
welcomed as a classic by the honorable organ of the public ministry.”
The Attorney-General.--“It was one of yours. Then keep him.”
M. Labori.--“One of ours? Let us say, then, that one expert is as good
as another; that is all I ask. For my part, I have no need for any of
these experts, and I assure you that, in a trial of this character,
it is always a joy to provoke any remark whatever from an adversary,
especially when it is his habit to be as sparing of his words as you
are.
“To continue, gentlemen. I say, then, that, having nothing but this
writing to go upon, conviction was impossible, especially as there were
two of the five experts who did not attribute the writing to Dreyfus;
and I may add that the first expert consulted, who was no other than
he who is considered of the highest authority in his science, M.
Gobert, expert of the Bank of France, declared, when the _bordereau_
was submitted to him, that it was not in the handwriting of Dreyfus,
whereupon the accusers, instead of seeking another traitor, sought
another expert, and found him.
“Then, things presenting themselves as they did, acquittal was about to
follow, because the members of the council of war, though susceptible
of being influenced by the words of a superior, could not, as honest
men, convict upon such evidence. Then, gentlemen, there intervened
this fact, of which we have already spoken, but which now must be
recalled and stated more precisely,--this fact which in itself alone
would justify any wrath in a good citizen and the revolt of any
conscience,--the fact that, outside of the trial, without the knowledge
of the accused or his counsel, and by a violation of one of the most
elementary and sacred rules, a document, or documents, as you please,
was placed under the eyes of the members of the council. Supposing that
they were not so placed,--though they were, as I shall show you,--even
had a man’s word guaranteed the existence of such documents before the
president of the council of war, who is bound to believe the words of
his superior,--even such a declaration would have been enough to secure
a conviction illegally and irregularly.
“But the documents were communicated, gentlemen. The fact is
established. Let us summarize the proofs.
“In the first place, there is the article that appeared in ‘L’Eclair’
September 15, 1896, which was reproduced everywhere and never
contradicted. Then there was a pamphlet spread by thousands of copies,
written by Bernard Lazare, in answer to the article, and this pamphlet
also has never been contradicted. Several times, and especially on
January 9, 1897, ‘L’Echo de Paris’ has spoken, not only of a secret
document, but of a secret file of documents, concerning which it has
given details, saying that it was called the B file, in contrast to the
A file, or judicial file. Then there is the Ravary report, in which
this passage occurs:
One evening, when Lieutenant-Colonel Henry, on returning to Paris,
suddenly entered M. Picquart’s office, he found M. Leblois, the
lawyer, who paid the colonel long and frequent visits, sitting near
the desk and searching with him the secret file. A photograph bearing
the words ‘That scoundrel D----’ had been taken from the file and
spread upon the desk.
“The existence is official, and you understand, gentlemen, that its
simple existence suffices, for the whole country is opposed to any
discussion of this matter. Why? For no other reason than this,--that it
has been told that there is a secret file. It has been told only that,
and that has sufficed to close all mouths, eyes, and ears, so that
nobody wishes to see or hear anything. Consequently, from the simple
fact that the secret file is thus publicly confessed, it weighs on the
consciences of the judges of 1894, it has weighed on the consciences of
the judges of 1898, and here again, be it said in passing, is what we
may call a verdict rendered in obedience to orders.
“But this is not enough, gentlemen. ‘Le Siècle,’ of January 14, 1898,
published on its first page a very long article, with all possible
developments, as to the existence of the secret document. The
article has not been contradicted. Better still, there has been an
interpellation in the chamber. M. Jaurès, on January 24, 1898, quoted
the passage that I have just read from the Ravary report, and then
commented upon it as follows:
Well, gentlemen, when such a doubt is raised, when such a question
is put before the public conscience, I find it unworthy of all, to
whatever party we may belong, unworthy of France herself, that this
question should not be met by an explicit and decisive declaration. I
ask the government: Yes or no, were the members of the council of war
that passed upon the Dreyfus case confronted with documents tending
to establish or confirm the guilt of the accused, which had not been
communicated to the accused and his counsel?
“Now listen, gentlemen, to the reply of M. Jules Méline, president of
the cabinet.
I answer you that we are unwilling to discuss this matter from the
tribune, and that I am unwilling to serve your designs.
“Then, a few moments later, M. Méline added:
Only one word, gentlemen, to say that I have already answered those
points in the remarks of M. Jaurès upon which it is permissible for
the government to make answer. I refuse to follow him upon the ground
where he has just placed himself, because the government, I repeat,
has no right to discuss from the tribune a regularly-rendered verdict.
“Is that, gentlemen, the answer of a government careful of the public
interest, having no mysterious infamy to conceal? ‘Refuse to discuss
the case from the tribune,’ when, to quiet the anxiety of all, and
perhaps to close my mouth and prevent me from standing at this bar,
it would have been enough to say: ‘No, no secret documents were
communicated.’
“I go farther, and declare that the president of the cabinet was bound
to say this. He said, in the closing lines of his answer, that the
verdict had been regularly rendered. Well, it is not true. It had not
been regularly rendered. It had not been, because there had been a
communication of secret documents. The president of the cabinet, as an
honest man after his own fashion, was incapable of so violating the
truth as to say that no such communication had been made.
“Then, gentlemen, we have the testimony of a man respected by all, M.
Salle, who has appeared at this bar, and whose eloquent silence has
been completed by the declarations of M. Demange. We have the interview
of M. Demange in ‘Le Matin,’ which he has confirmed in this court.
And we have, finally, and above all, the answer, or the silence, as
you prefer, of General Mercier. The truth is that General Mercier,
interpret his act as you please, is incapable, as a loyal soldier and
an honest man, of dodging a responsibility by a lie. In doing what he
has done,--and I frankly reprove his conduct,--he did what he thought
he had a right to do, and even today I have no fear that he will
retract or contradict. But it is well understood that the proof is
complete, that the secret document was communicated. Then, gentlemen,
we may ask ourselves what mean all the declarations of the president
of the cabinet, of the minister of war, of the generals, and of the
council of war of 1898, that Dreyfus was legally and justly convicted?
I have tried to prove to you that it is not exact to say that he was
justly convicted. As for the statement that he was legally convicted,
it is a lie.
“And all this, gentlemen, is the work of General Mercier, for he takes
everything upon himself. He has such confidence in his light that,
fearing an acquittal when the council of war was about to begin its
deliberations, he intervened with his personal authority, with his
word and his documents,--at the very least with his word,--and thus he
tore from the council the verdict which he may believe to be just, but
which is none the less illegal, and consequently iniquitous. Is this,
then, justice? And remember that the matter is especially serious, in
view of the fact that the court was a military one. When declarations
of the same sort are made here, I am not disturbed, because you are
independent men. But reflect, then, what the word of a minister of war
must mean to military judges, whatever their good faith. The superior
pledges his word, and they take it. But what an abyss of iniquity! If,
again, such things were to occur amid the storms of war, it would be
a different thing. What then matters one man’s life, or a little more
or less of justice? But these things took place in a state of peace,
when the country was perfectly secure. Or, again, if our army were an
army of mercenaries, soldiers only, accepting the responsibilities
of the military trade, which in that case is only a trade, perhaps
then I would bow. But this is a matter of the national army; a matter
that concerns all the young men of the nation, who are liable to have
to appear before a military tribunal; a matter that concerns your
sons, gentlemen. [Murmurs of protest.] I should much like to know who
interrupts.”
The Judge.--“Permit me; I am forced to repeat what I have already said
at previous sessions,--if these manifestations continue, I shall be
forced to clear the court-room. There must be no manifestation, either
in favor of the accused or against them.”
M. Labori.--“Yes, gentlemen, your sons, innocent or guilty, are liable
to be summoned before a military tribunal. You see that we introduce
no venom into the debate. You see that the rights of the nation, the
liberty of all, civilization itself, is at stake; and, if the country,
when it shall know the truth and its full significance, does not revolt
in indignation, I shall be unable to understand it.
“That, gentlemen, is why it is necessary that those who understand
and measure the gravity of this affair should take the floor, why
it is necessary that all men of good will, all true liberals, those
who believe in the innocence of Dreyfus and those who do not, those
who know and those who do not know, should unite in a sort of sacred
phalanx to protest in the name of eternal morality; and that is what M.
Zola has done.
“In spite of closed doors, gentlemen, and by the great mass of
Frenchmen who could not know at what price the verdict had been
secured, Dreyfus might have been forgotten. But there was a little
fireside in mourning, where memory remained, and with memory hope. This
fireside was that of the Dreyfus family, in regard to which so many
calumnies have been spread; and, since this court refused to hear M.
Lalance, let me read you what he has just said and published in the
newspapers. I read from ‘Le Journal des Débats.’
The Dreyfus family consists of four brothers,--Jacques, Léon, Mathieu,
and Alfred. They are closely united,--one soul in four bodies. In 1872
Alsatians were called upon to choose their nationality. Those who
desired to remain Frenchmen had to make a declaration and leave the
country. The three younger so chose, and left. The eldest, Jacques,
who was past the age of military service, and who, moreover, had
served during the war in the Legion of Alsace-Lorraine, did not so
choose, and was declared a German. He sacrificed himself, in order
to be able, without fear of expulsion, to manage the important
manufacturing establishment which constituted the family estate. But
he promised himself that, if he had any sons, they should all be
Frenchmen. The German law, in fact, permits a father to take out a
permit of emigration for a son who has reached the age of seventeen.
This son loses his German nationality, and cannot reenter the country
until he is forty-five years old. Jacques Dreyfus had six sons. In
1894 the two elder were preparing for the Polytechnic school and Saint
Cyr. After the trial they had to go away; their career was broken.
Two other brothers were in the Belfort school. They were driven out.
What was the father to do, knowing that his young brother had been
unjustly and illegally condemned? Was he to change his name, as other
Dreyfuses have done? Should he abandon his projects, and resolve to
have his sons serve in the German army for a year, that they might
then reenter the paternal house, and live in a city where the family
was respected, and where everybody pitied and esteemed it? Had he done
that, no one would have thrown a stone at him. In 1895 and 1896 his
third and fourth sons reached the age of seventeen. He said to them:
‘My children, you are now to leave your father’s house, never more
to come back to it. Go to that country where your name is cursed and
despised. It is your duty. Go.’ And finally, in 1897, the father left
his house, his business, and all his friends, and went to establish
himself at Belfort, the city of which they wanted to make a fortress.
He demanded French naturalization for himself and his two younger sons.
“There you have a document to oppose to the floods of calumny and
falsehood. In this family there were two members whose convictions
could not be shaken, M. Mathieu Dreyfus and Mme. Dreyfus, whose
fidelity is perhaps the most striking evidence of the innocence of
her husband, for she, indeed, must know the truth. Mme. Dreyfus had
lived beside this man; she knew his daily life; she saw his attitude
throughout the trial; she knew the absence of proof; she knew what you
yourselves know now, gentlemen. And she had seen the perseverance and
firmness of her husband in ascending this Calvary; his courage at the
moment of degradation; his attitude, always the same, even up to the
present moment. I should like to read you many of his letters, but,
to save time, I will read only two,--almost the latest. One is not
exactly the next to the last, but the other is the last, and I think
it is indispensable that you should hear this cry, always the same, as
strong as ever, in spite of the prolongation of the torture. I read you
a letter from the Iles du Salut, dated September 4, 1897.
_Dear Lucie_:
I have just received the July mail. You tell me again that you are
certain of complete light. This certainly is in my soul. It is
inspired by the rights that every man has to ask it, when he wants but
one thing,--the truth. As long as I shall have the strength to live
in a situation as inhuman as it is undeserved, I shall write you to
animate you with my indomitable will. Moreover, the late letters that
I have written you are my moral testament, so to speak. In these I
spoke to you first of our affection; I confessed also my physical and
mental deterioration; but I pointed out to you no less energetically
your duty. The grandeur of soul that we have all shown should make us
neither weak or vainglorious. On the contrary, it should ally itself
to a determination to go on to the end, until all France shall know
the truth and the whole truth. To be sure, sometimes the wound bleeds
too freely, and the heart revolts. Sometimes, exhausted as I am, I
sink under the heavy blows, and then I am but a poor human creature in
agony and suffering. But my unconquered soul rises again, vibrating
with grief, energy, and implacable will, in view of that which to us
is the most precious thing in the world, our honor and that of our
children. And I straighten up once more to utter to all the thrilling
appeal of a man who asks only justice in order to kindle in you all
the ardent fire that animates my soul, and that will be extinguished
only with my life.
I live only on my fever, proud when I have passed through a long day
of twenty-four hours. As for you, you have not to consider what they
say or what they think. It is for you to do your duty inflexibly,
and to insist no less inflexibly on your right, the right of justice
and truth. If in this horrible affair there are other interests than
ours, which we have never failed to recognize, there are also the
imprescriptible rights of justice and truth. There is the duty of all
to put an end to a situation so atrocious, so undeserved. Then I can
wish for us both and for all only that this frightful, horrible, and
unmerited martyrdom may come to an end.
What can I add to express again my profound affection for you,
for our children, for your dear parents, for all our dear brothers
and sisters, for all who suffer through this long and frightful
martyrdom? It is useless to tell you in detail of myself and all my
petty matters. I do it sometimes in spite of myself, for the heart
has irresistible revolts. Bitterness rises to the lips when one
sees everything that makes life noble and beautiful misunderstood.
Certainly, if it were a question only of my own person, long ago would
I have sought in the peace of the grave forgetfulness of what I have
seen, of what I have heard, of what I continue to see every day. I
have continued to live in order to sustain you all with my indomitable
will; for it was no longer a question of my life, it was a question
of my honor, of the honor of us all, of the lives of our children. I
have endured everything without bending, without lowering my head; I
repress every day my feelings of revolt, calling always for the truth,
without weariness and without pride. I wish, nevertheless, for both
of us, my poor friend, and for all, that our efforts may soon end,
and that the day of justice may dawn at last for all who have been so
long awaiting it. Every time that I write to you, I find it almost
impossible to drop my pen, not because of what I have to say to you,
but because thus I part with you again for so long a time, living only
in your thought, in the thought of the children, in the thought of you
all. Nevertheless, I conclude by embracing you as well as our dear
children, your dear parents, and all our dear brothers and sisters,
pressing you in my arms with all my strength, and repeating to you,
with an energy that nothing can shake and as long as I shall retain a
breath of life: Courage! courage and determination!
“In addition, I read to you some short extracts from the last letter,
received at Paris, and dated December 25, 1897.
_My dear Lucie_:
More than ever I have tragic movements, in which my brain weakens.
That is why I desire to write to you, not to speak to you of myself,
but to give you again the counsel that I believe I owe to you. All
through this month I have continued my numerous and warm appeals for
you and for our children. I desire that this frightful martyrdom
may come to an end, that we may at last emerge from the terrible
nightmare in which we have so long been living. But what I cannot
doubt, and what I have no right to doubt, is that all possible aid
will be extended to you that this work of justice and reparation may
be accomplished. In short, my darling, what I would like to say to
you, in a supreme effort in which I wholly put aside my own person, is
that you should maintain your right energetically, for it is frightful
to see so many human beings suffer thus, and to think of our unhappy
children growing up. But with this should be mingled no irritating
question, no question of persons. I wish I could press you in my arms
with all the strength of my love, and I beg you to embrace long and
tenderly for me my dear and adored children, my dear parents, all my
dear brothers and sisters, with a thousand kisses more.
“And beneath are these tragic words, which I must read to you, for they
add to the horror:
Read in accordance with orders, the Chief of the Penitentiary
Administration.
“It should have been added, ‘copied in accordance with orders,’ for
of the authenticity of these letters you can have no doubt, since
they are copied in the hand of an employee of the administration. The
handwriting of Dreyfus himself does not reach his wife.
“I wish I could read you also, as I intended, a letter from M. Gabriel
Monod, for it is an admirable psychological document, a testimonial of
the respect in which the writer holds the Dreyfus family, an expert
study of handwritings. But I must not detain you.
“It is absolutely necessary, however, that I should read to you an
article from ‘Le Jour,’ our most implacable opponent, and an article
from the pen of M. Paul de Cassagnac, who this morning in his paper
does not exactly shower compliments upon us. ‘Le Jour’ and ‘L’Autorité’
were the instigators of the campaign that is now going on. The article
from ‘Le Jour’ that I shall read to you appeared September 11, 1896,
over the signature of Adolphe Possien.
Since the Dreyfus question has come up again, and since the discussion
now begun can end only in a series of inquiries, we desire to
contribute our share to the search for the causes that brought about
the arrest and conviction of the prisoner of Devil’s Island. It is
known that the doors were closed during the trial, and that during
the preliminary incarceration nothing of what the prisoner did or
said transpired. Furthermore, little was known of the motives that
determined General Mercier to order the arrest of Dreyfus. It is known
that the ex-captain was accused of having been in relations with a
neighboring power, and of having delivered to it documents concerning
the national defence. But what was the nature of these documents? No
official communication has made that known; so that at the present
hour it seems to be rather generally believed that it was a matter of
the general mobilization time-table. Now, that is false, just as it is
false in the last degree that the ex-captain was questioned by General
de Boisdeffre or by General Gonse.
“I stop here to make an observation that I might have made elsewhere.
It has been said in many places that Dreyfus denounced to the enemy the
French officers who went on a mission to Germany. It has been said that
he denounced Captain Degouy. Now, Captain Degouy’s brother, M. Paul
Degouy, has come to this bar to say to me: ‘My brother is not with you
in this matter. He is of those who believe that his superiors could
not have taken the course that they have in the absence of striking
proofs. Nevertheless, I authorize you to say, in my name and in the
name of my brother, that never, and for all sorts of reasons which I
need not develop, has Dreyfus been suspected of having denounced him.’
I add, in passing, that there have been many other lies told as false
as this one, and, when we shall have contradicted them all, you will
still find, three months or three years hence, people to tell you that
Dreyfus denounced Captain Degouy, etc.
The only person who was ever in communication with Captain Dreyfus
after his imprisonment was Major du Paty de Clam, who, after
this, affair, was promoted to the office of lieutenant-colonel.
The document on the strength of which Dreyfus was condemned is an
unsigned _bordereau_, containing no information confidential in its
significance. Furthermore, of the five experts to whom this document
was submitted, only two, MM. Charavay and Bertillon, recognized the
ex-officer’s handwriting, while three others, one of whom was M.
Gobert, the expert of the Bank of France, did not recognize it.
“This is an error. There were three experts who recognized it, and two
who did not.
It has been said that this document was found, torn up, in the
waste-basket of a military _attaché_ of a great neighboring power,
from which it was taken by an agent in our pay. Later it was pretended
that this was not the case at all. It has been said since that the
document was found in the war department itself.
To be brief, thanks to the exaggerated discretion of the government,
a double current of opinion set in regarding the Dreyfus case. In
a matter as delicate as this, since his treason reawakened all the
anti-Semitic passions, and since it was a reminder of the fact that
another Jew, Cornelius Herz, had shown dishonor wherever he had
passed, Dreyfus should have been tried as his counsel demanded. If
this was impossible, at least it was necessary to avoid useless petty
mysteries, and to declare frankly everything that was not compromising
to the interests of the national defence. Thus acting, they would have
avoided the discussions which, though put to sleep for a moment, were
bound to reawaken. No honest man would then have been found to make
an appeal of pity in favor of one who perhaps is not guilty. It is
with the greatest impartiality that I have made an inquiry into the
events that brought about the arrest of Dreyfus, and the events that
followed, up to the time of his embarkation for Devil’s Island. I do
not pretend to prove his innocence; my purpose is to establish that
his guilt is not demonstrated.
“Let me ask, in passing, how the innocence of any man can be
demonstrated, except by demonstrating that his guilt is not
established. Is not innocence a negative thing? If you, gentlemen, were
to ask me to prove that you are neither thieves or traitors, I should
be quite incapable of it. All that I could say would be that there is
no evidence against you, and that consequently it is impossible to
demonstrate your guilt. Therefore all those who are shouting for proof
are indulging in mere childish clamor.
“Now I read to you what M. de Cassagnac wrote on September 14, 1896:
Our _confrère_, “Le Jour,” pretends, not to prove the innocence of
Dreyfus, but to show that his guilt is not demonstrated. This is
already too much. Not that we reproach our _confrère_ for pursuing
such a demonstration, but that this demonstration is impossible.
Like most of our fellow-citizens, we believe Dreyfus guilty, but,
like our _confrère_, we are not sure of it. And, like our _confrère_
also, we have the courage to say so, since we cannot be suspected of
being favorable to the Jews, whom we combat here as persistently as
we combat the Free Masons. The real question is: Can there be any
doubt as to the guilt of Dreyfus? Now, thanks to the stupidity and the
cowardice of the government of the republic, this question, far from
being closed, remains perpetually open. Why? Because the government
did not dare to conduct the trial in the open, so that public opinion
might be settled.
Now, nothing is more contrary to justice than obscurity. It is only
truth that has no fear of the blinding daylight. We are the implacable
adversaries of every verdict rendered in the depths of a cave, whether
it emanates from Sainte Vehme, from the King of the Mountain, or from
the council of war. And we are so, because a verdict so rendered can
never be revised.
But, you will tell me, those who declared Captain Dreyfus guilty
were French officers, the incarnation of honor and of patriotism. It
is true. Only, whatever my esteem and respect for French officers, I
must point out that they are not more enlightened or more honorable
than their brothers, cousins, and friends who, as jurors, distribute
justice in the assize courts in the name of the French people. The
very recent Cauvin case, and many others, have sadly demonstrated that
error is a human thing, and that judicial errors are already much
too frequent, now that the machinery of justice is illuminated by
all possible torches. I add that it is only the publicity of a trial
that makes a revision possible, and that there can be no revision of
any trial of which we know nothing but the brutal result. That is
shocking to good sense and equity, and my illustrious friend, the
lawyer Demange, was absolutely right when he insisted on a public
trial. Juries are often mistaken, and it is by no means proved that
councils of war are fallible, especially as it is now said, and
without contradiction, that Dreyfus was condemned on the strength
of a document which but two out of five experts found to be in his
handwriting. Moreover, we know the value and the weight of expert
testimony regarding handwriting. Nothing is more uncertain, and
sometimes more grotesque.
So that nobody in the world except the judges and the prosecuting
attorney can know exactly why and on what Dreyfus was convicted.
Unhappily, they are bound by professional secrecy, and so I do not see
how our _confrère_, “Le Jour,” will be able to give any interest to
its investigation.
Yes, traitors are abominable beings, who should be pitilessly shot
like wild beasts; but, for the very reason that the punishment
incurred is the more frightful and the more deserved, and carries with
it no pity, it should not have been possible for the cowardice of the
government with reference to Germany to have left us in a horrible
doubt which authorizes us to ask ourselves sometimes if really there
is not on Devil’s Island a human being undergoing in innocence a
superhuman torture. Such doubt is a frightful thing, and it will
continue, because publicity of trial furnishes the only basis for a
revision. Now there is no revision. There is no appeal from a sentence
wrapped in artificial and deliberate darkness.
“That is what M. de Cassagnac said, and, when he wrote it, he did not
know what you have learned during the last fortnight. You see, then,
the source of the campaign to which Colonel Picquart alluded in one of
his letters to General Gonse. It is not the article in ‘L’Eclair,’ for
those letters appeared before September 15. It is these articles that
I have just read you; the Dreyfusian campaign, there you have it. The
article in ‘L’Eclair,’ in which the name of Dreyfus was falsely written
in full, was simply an infamy resorted to to stop that campaign.
“But, whatever the energy and the devotion of the men who undertook
this work, it would have come to nothing, if in the staff which has
played so prominent a part in the case there had not been found an
admirable man,--a soldier, he too, like the others. He has been treated
shamefully. Insults have been heaped upon him here which seem to me
unworthy of the eminent soldiers whence they came. But the purity of
his soul has enabled him to rise above interests, above mere _esprit
de corps_, to the more elevated regions of the ideal and of humanity.
I refer to Colonel Picquart. He has remained calm; he has remained
silent. He has not violated the iron countersign which he, as a
soldier, respects. But I know well that, from the broader and more
general standpoint of humanity, he will come out of this case increased
in stature. I must say a word to you, gentlemen, of his military
antecedents and his life. He is now in command of the Fourth Algerian;
he is forty-three years of age; at thirty-two he was in command of a
battalion; he left the war school a breveted officer; he is a knight
of the legion of honor; he was formerly a professor in the war school;
he was chief of the third bureau of the staff office, then chief of
the bureau of information, and, finally, in April, 1896, was made a
lieutenant-colonel. And a fact that makes it vain for his superior
officers to try to ruin him is that he was especially appointed, and
is the youngest lieutenant-colonel in the French army. Moreover,
gentlemen, Colonel Picquart was delegated by his superiors to follow
the Dreyfus trial before the council of war of 1894. That will tell
you whether he knows the case or not. He too,--at least, I imagine
so,--believed in the guilt of Dreyfus. But after the departure of
Dreyfus what has been picturesquely called the ‘flights’--that is, the
disappearances, the departures, the thefts of documents--continued.
Then, gentlemen, his suspicion was aroused.
“In May, 1896, or, at any rate, in the spring of 1896, he discovered
the famous dispatch that has been mentioned here. Certain agents bring
to the war department--and here, if I commit errors of detail, it will
be due solely to the fact that complete explanations have not been
given at this bar; if my errors should now provoke them, I should
congratulate myself upon it, and accept the corrections,--certain
agents bring to the war department cornucopias or packages containing
fragments of papers, taken wherever documents coming from the enemy
are liable to be found, papers some of which are without interest, but
others of which are of value, mixed up by the agents, who take them
_en masse_ and deliver them to one of their superiors, who sorts them,
in order to find out if there is anything of value among them. The
important point is the origin of these packages. What gives them their
value is their source, the fact that they are taken on territory where
everything that is found, really or fictitiously, has a special value.
Before Colonel Picquart became chief of the information service, as we
have been given to understand, these packages were handed to Colonel
Henry, then major, who, in turn, after sorting them, transmitted them,
because he did not know foreign languages, to Captain Lauth, now major.
When Colonel Picquart became chief of the bureau, he changed his method
of procedure. He asked that these packages be given to him. It was
his right. Colonel Sandherr died of general paralysis. He had already
been a victim of it for sometime, when Colonel Picquart succeeded him.
Colonel Picquart was chosen for this eminent post because they had the
fullest confidence in him. And, if he took it upon himself to conduct
the services a little more strictly than had been the custom, it was
because he intended to give it the closest personal attention.
“You know, gentlemen, what happened in this special matter of the
dispatch, addressed to Major Esterhazy. One day a package of documents
was handed to Colonel Picquart, and, some days after, Colonel Picquart
gave this dispatch to Major Lauth that he might reassemble the
fifty-nine or sixty pieces into which it was torn. It was very natural
that this document should be given to Major Lauth, for operations of
this character were one of his duties.
“What was this dispatch, and what was its value? In itself--and this is
a very important point--it had no value at all. Here is the text, with
which you are as yet unfamiliar. The document was publicly read during
the Esterhazy trial.
I await, first of all, an explanation more detailed than that
which you gave me the other day regarding the question at issue.
Consequently I beg you to give it to me in writing, in order that
I may judge whether I should continue my relations with the R
establishment or not.
“This little document, taken from the mails, is of value only on
condition that its source is the same as that of the documents in
the package of which I have just spoken, that source being a foreign
embassy, an enemy’s territory. Coming from that source, the document at
once takes on a special importance, for it shows that the embassy in
question is in relations with the person to whom it is addressed.”
The Judge.--“Make no reference to that.”
M. Labori.--“_Monsieur le Président_, all this has been told at length
in the newspapers.”
The Judge.--“It cannot be very useful in your argument.”
M. Labori.--“I do not see why we should not explain ourselves on a
matter with which everybody is familiar, and which the jurors ought
to understand, in order to be able to judge with a full knowledge of
the cause. Therefore I resume my argument. The dispatch is valuable
only because it awakened the suspicion of the chief of the service of
information, who said to himself: the place whence this dispatch comes
is in correspondence with Major Esterhazy. Then Colonel Picquart began
an investigation, at first a moral investigation, as he has told you,
the results of which he has made known to you; then an investigation of
another order, an investigation concerning handwriting. At that moment
was he thinking of the Dreyfus case? Not at all. That was buried. It
had nothing to do with this new matter. He began his investigation
concerning handwriting, because it is customary to do so, whenever
any trace of spying is observed. Then he went to find M. Bertillon,
who said to him: ‘This time the forgers have attained identity.’ And
thus, gentlemen, Colonel Picquart was confronted with the undeniable
resemblance between the _bordereau_ and Major Esterhazy’s writing. He
spoke to his superiors about the matter, and I have a right to say, in
view of his correspondence with General Gonse, that they encouraged
him. Since then, they have made him the object of the most odious
attacks. But these attacks have a single source, which is enough to
ruin them at their foundation. That source is the major whom the army
prefers to him, whom the army opposes to him, to whom it extends
ovations while Colonel Picquart is put in a fortress--Major Esterhazy.
“Do you ask for proof that he was the source of these attacks? ‘La
Libre Parole’ published on November 15, 1897, an article entitled ‘The
Conspiracy,’ in which no name was mentioned, but in which everything
was related in advance, and in which the _rôle_ of Colonel Picquart
was presented by Major Esterhazy, the author of the article, as it was
presented afterward without change by Major Ravary himself before the
council of war of 1898. You certainly did not fail to notice that, when
the question of the famous searches of Major Esterhazy’s premises, and
the circumstances under which they were made, came up here, General
de Pellieux, summoned here by us, was obliged to say: ‘But I accepted
the story of Major Esterhazy.’ Consequently no investigation on this
point, no verification, no contradiction of any sort. The accuser of
Colonel Picquart, he whose word they take, is he whom Colonel Picquart
denounced, whether wrongly or rightly, as a traitor. And, if we examine
the matter closely, gentlemen, what remains of the attacks upon Colonel
Picquart? I have already done justice to that concerning the pretended
communication of the secret file to M. Leblois. I have shown you that
here the contradictions were such that it is absolutely impossible to
accept the fact as having occurred in November, 1896. Indeed, Colonel
Picquart addressed himself to M. Leblois in 1897, and he did so because
he was threatened, as you know. For in June, 1897, he received from
Colonel Henry a letter which I may now qualify as a threatening letter.
At that time Colonel Picquart, who was on a mission, precisely for
what reason he did not know, returned to Paris, and sought the advice,
not of the first lawyer that he met, but of a lawyer who had been
his friend from childhood. And it was in the course of conversations
with this lawyer that, too reserved, too prudent,--I say it to you
very respectfully, Colonel Picquart,--he made known to M. Leblois the
reasons why he was attacked, and placed in his hands the documents that
constituted his defence--that is, not only the two letters from General
Gonse which you know, and his two replies, but another and later
correspondence, of which we are not yet in possession, Colonel Picquart
being unwilling to give it up, because of his excessive reserve and
discretion.
“And then M. Leblois does this thing,--some may blame him for it,
but, for my part, I salute him,--agitated by what he had learned, and
without Colonel Picquart’s consent, he went to M. Scheurer-Kestner, who
was no other than the vice-president of the senate, and in whom he had
the most absolute confidence, and said to him: ‘Here is what I have
learned through certain special events and circumstances.’
“Now we come to the complaint of the searching of Major Esterhazy’s
premises. The only thing done was this. A police agent presented
himself twice at Major Esterhazy’s under a pretext of looking at an
apartment to let. He brought back a visiting-card of no importance,
which Colonel Picquart told him to return; and he noticed that a
considerable quantity of papers had been burned in the chimney. Here,
in the first place, it is necessary to notice that Major Esterhazy is
detected in flagrant inaccuracies of statement. He had declared that
his apartments had been robbed several times under extremely serious
circumstances, which he related before the council of war. I wish
to call your attention to what Major Esterhazy said in his public
examination in January, 1898.”
M. Labori then read the Esterhazy examination, in which, in answer to
General de Luxer, he spoke of the robberies, and attributed them to
Mathieu Dreyfus.
“Well, at what time did these searches take place? It was when Colonel
Picquart was in Paris,--that is, before November, 1896. Was there any
question at that time of M. Mathieu Dreyfus, who did not make his
denunciation until November, 1897, a year later? Was there then any
question of suspicion attaching to Major Esterhazy? Nothing of the kind
was spoken of. But we know that, when the _bordereau_ appeared in ‘Le
Matin’ on November 10, 1896, Major Esterhazy was seen in a condition
of extraordinary excitement. Why did he consider himself in danger?
How could he then attribute the searches made in 1896 to Mathieu
Dreyfus? He adds: ‘I could not believe that a French officer could go
to such excesses.’ I ask you, gentlemen, if robbers were to visit your
houses, or had visited them before this trial, would you attribute the
robberies to Mathieu Dreyfus? Certainly not. Consequently it must have
escaped the president of the council of war when Major Esterhazy said:
‘The first time I attributed it to servants, but afterward I attributed
it to Mathieu Dreyfus.’ I should have liked to press him on this
point at this bar. You remember that I asked him if he had not been
robbed, and what he had to say thereupon. He took refuge in a policy of
silence, the value and the prudence of which you can now understand.
And at any rate, the fact remains that the charges made against Colonel
Picquart in the Ravary report are nothing but the exact and faithful
reproduction of the accusations of Major Esterhazy. General de Pellieux
himself was obliged to admit it.
“But how did Colonel Picquart act? They have told you that he acted
without a warrant. Without a warrant? Why, he had a permanent warrant.
It is like saying that the prefect of police, when he proceeds to
certain operations made necessary by the public safety, acts without a
warrant. Do not his very functions confer a warrant upon him?
“You know how Colonel Picquart’s superiors were made familiar with
his investigations. You remember that I asked General de Pellieux if
he considered that a chief of the information service could conduct it
usefully without the right to resort to such measures. He answered:
‘No, absolutely no; but he must have a warrant.’ Well, gentlemen, the
proof that Colonel Picquart acted in a regular manner is that in the
months of October and November, 1896, everybody at the staff offices
was aware of the situation, as the Ravary report shows. No one in the
bureau of information, M. Ravary tells us, was unaware that, on Colonel
Picquart’s orders, Major Esterhazy’s correspondence had been seized in
the mails, and that for many months; nor was anyone unaware that he
had employed an agent to search without a legal warrant the premises
of the accused during his absence. Well, gentlemen, of two things one:
either this was irregular, and in that case it was necessary there and
then to criticise Colonel Picquart’s attitude, and not cover him with
congratulations and kindly words in the correspondence that was then
going on between him and General Gonse; or else it must be confessed
that it was not until later, and from the necessities of the situation,
that they perceived the irregularity of the steps which were then known
to the superiors and approved by all. Here again, then, as soon as we
look and discuss, there is nothing left.
“Now for the two points in the testimony of Major Lauth that require
an answer. You remember that Major Lauth explained to you that Colonel
Picquart at a certain moment asked him if he recognized the handwriting
of the dispatch. Well, gentlemen, that is not denied. I have explained
to you that the dispatch gained importance only from its source.
Obviously then, this importance was enhanced, if that evidence of its
origin which consisted in its discovery in the packages brought by the
agents was confirmed by the further discovery of an identity between
the writing of the dispatch and that of a certain person. One of the
witnesses here has explained that generally it is not the chief of the
information service, who, in spying cases, is summoned as a witness
before the council of war, but one of his subordinates. Thus, in 1894,
if I am well informed, Colonel Sandherr did not testify, but one of
his subordinates. And it is very probable, that, if the prosecution
had continued in the way in which Colonel Picquart expected, Major
Lauth would have been called upon to testify. So Colonel Picquart asked
Major Lauth whether he knows the writing or not. Major Lauth answered:
‘No.’ And there the matter rested, very naturally. Consequently, there
is nothing here of which we have to take note. There remains but one
question, upon which it may be said that two officers are squarely
in contradiction,--the question of the post-office stamps, which, it
is said, Colonel Picquart desired to have placed upon the dispatch.
Exactly, what does Major Lauth say? He says that Colonel Picquart said
to him: ‘Do you think the post-office would put a stamp on this?’
Now, were those words uttered, gentlemen? For my part, I consider
Major Lauth a very honest man, and, consequently I cannot consider his
statement unworthy of belief. But what I know well is that, if these
words were really spoken--and they may well not have been, because
sometimes, when one has a certain idea, this idea, especially in its
later developments, makes one hear things that he really did not hear,
and that were never said [Murmurs of protest]. I am not addressing
people who do not understand that here I am explaining mental
operations with which everybody is familiar, and that I do not go at
all outside the bounds of probability. But, admitting that these words
were uttered, it is sufficient for me to say that, even then, they have
absolutely no significance.
“We come now to the correspondence with General Gonse, which shows that
Colonel Picquart, in all his proceedings, was followed, authorized,
and encouraged by his superiors. You recall the constant interest that
General Gonse has taken in this trial. The purpose of that interest was
to make it known that he was familiar with the operations of Colonel
Picquart in the Esterhazy case, but that he has steadily refused to
examine and consider the Dreyfus case. I asked General Gonse how he
explained this passage in his first letter:
To the continuation of the inquiry from the standpoint of the
handwritings there is the grave objection that it compels us to take
new people into our confidence under bad conditions, and it seems to
me better to wait until we are more firmly settled in our opinions,
before going further in this rather delicate path.
“The investigation, then, had been begun, and was now to be abandoned,
not because it would yield uncertain results, but because it would
necessitate the consultation of new experts and the taking of third
persons into confidence. The meaning of this is that it was the
_bordereau_ that was in question; that the _bordereau_ had left its
closet; that consequently the Dreyfus case was open; and that it was
with full knowledge of this that General Gonse encouraged Colonel
Picquart, to whom he wrote in the most kindly terms: ‘I shake your
hand most affectionately, my dear Picquart.’ And then, gentlemen, you
remember that admirable letter from Colonel Picquart, in which he seems
to have foreseen all the unfortunate events of which this country is
now a victim.
I believe that I have done all that was necessary to give ourselves
the opportunity of initiative. If too much time is lost, that
initiative will be taken by others, which, to say nothing of higher
considerations, will not leave us in a pleasant position.... There
will be a sad and useless crisis, which we could avoid by doing
justice in season.
“And General Gonse replies:
At the point at which you have arrived in your investigation there is
no question, of course, of avoiding the light, but we must ascertain
what course should be taken in order to arrive at a manifestation of
the truth.
“Consequently, you see, the light is not to be stopped. General Gonse
says in so many words that there is no question of avoiding it. Now,
what do these letters prove? In the presence of reasonable men like
yourselves, it is not necessary to ask things to prove more than they
do prove, but it is necessary to ask them to prove all that they prove.
I will not say that General Gonse was then convinced of the guilt of
Esterhazy and the innocence of Dreyfus, but I say that the Dreyfus
case was open, that the Esterhazy case seemed to him to be inseparably
connected with the Dreyfus case because of the handwritings, and that
he was much disturbed, and felt that it was necessary to get at the
light, which, moreover, could not be prevented. In short, gentlemen,
this correspondence proves three things of equally great importance:
(1) that there was never any confession serious enough to convince
honorable people; (2) that the secret file is of no value so far as its
bearing on Dreyfus is concerned, for otherwise General Gonse would not
have said to Colonel Picquart: ‘Prudence, prudence,’ adding. ‘You are
not lacking in that virtue, so my mind is easy,’ for, if there had been
a secret file containing a document overwhelming to Dreyfus, General
Gonse would have said to Colonel Picquart: ‘My dear friend, you are
mad; so don’t disturb yourself; you know that we have the proof’; (3)
that Colonel Picquart acted with the knowledge and encouragement of his
superiors.
“Well, gentlemen, what was it that changed all this? What dealt the
terrible blow that dragged this country so far from the truth, and
into the storms by which it is now shaken? Was it the ridiculous
documents that reached the war department on the eve of the Castelin
interpellation? I have done justice to those. And I add that, in such
a case, they would have shown them to Colonel Picquart first of all,
saying: ‘My dear Picquart, you see that it is necessary to stop.’ Then
it was not those documents that produced the change of mind. But I know
what did produce it. It was the Castelin interpellation, and nothing
else. I have called your attention to the beginning of the campaign by
‘Le Jour’ and ‘L’Autorité.’ Well, those for whom the Dreyfus case is a
matter not to be touched, for whom a revision would involve too heavy
responsibilities to be accepted without resistance, all these said to
themselves: ‘Ah! there is going to be an interpellation; the country
is going to be stirred up; the mouths of the traitor’s friends must be
closed.’
“For a moment, gentlemen, it was the intention of the war department
to let the light shine. But, when the interpellation was announced, it
failed in courage. That is the truth. And so, when M. Castelin asked
for information concerning the pretended escape of the traitor and the
campaign that was beginning, General Billot ascended the tribune and
pronounced for the first time these words, which were the beginning of
the events which you are now witnessing.
Gentlemen, the question submitted to the chamber by the honorable M.
Castelin is serious. It concerns the justice of the country and the
security of the State. This sad affair two years ago was the subject
of a verdict brought about by one of my predecessors in the war
department. Justice was then done. The examination, the trial, and the
verdict took place in conformity with the rules of military procedure.
The council of war, regularly constituted, deliberated regularly, and,
in full knowledge of the cause, rendered a unanimous verdict. The
council of revision unanimously rejected the appeal. The thing, then,
is judged, and it is allowable for no one to question it. Since the
conviction, all precautions have been taken to prevent any attempt at
escape. But the higher reasons which in 1894 necessitated a closing
of the doors have lost nothing of their gravity. So the government
appeals to the patriotism of the chamber for the avoidance of a
discussion which may prevent many embarrassments, and, at any rate,
for a closing of the discussion as soon as possible.
“Well, gentlemen, note this reply of General Billot. It is the heart of
the question, and it is here that begins the fault, or, if you prefer,
the error, of the government. It is easy to accuse law-abiding citizens
of inciting odious campaigns in their country; but, if we go back to
the sources, it is easy to see where the responsibility lies, and here
I have put my finger upon it. We are told confidently of the wrong done
by the defenders of the traitor in not demanding either a revision or
a nullification of the verdict of 1894. Nullification? Why, it is the
business of the minister of justice to demand that. Listen to article
441 of the code of criminal examination, applicable in military matters.
When, upon the exhibition of a formal order given to him by the
minister of justice, the prosecuting attorney before the court of
appeals shall denounce in the criminal branch of that court judicial
acts, decrees, or verdicts contrary to the law, these acts, decrees,
or verdicts may be annulled, and the police officials or the judge
prosecuted, if there is occasion, in the manner provided in Chapter 3
of Title 4 of the present book.
“Well, the secret document, gentlemen, was known in September,
1896. The article in ‘L’Eclair’ appeared September 15; the Castellin
interpellation was heard on November 16; a petition from Mme. Dreyfus
was laid before the chamber, and is still unanswered, as is also a
letter from M. Demange to the president of the chamber on the same
subject. Now, what was the government’s duty when this question first
arose? Unquestionably to deny the secret document from the tribune,
if it had not been communicated; and, if it had been, to declare that
the procedure was in contempt of all law, and should lead to the
nullification of the verdict. That is what a free government would have
done.
“Now I wish to say a word of the difficulty of procuring the documents
mentioned in the _bordereau_, upon which so much stress has been
laid in order to exculpate Major Esterhazy. I will not dwell on the
Madagascar note, which was of February, 1894, and not of August, as
has been said, and which consequently was not the important note of
which General Gonse spoke. I wish to emphasize only one point, because
it is the only one which, in the absence of the questions that I
was not permitted to ask, has not been made perfectly clear by the
confrontations of the witnesses, and which yet has a considerable
significance. General de Pellieux spoke to you of the piece 120 and
its hydraulic check. I believe it is the first item mentioned in the
_bordereau_. This check, said General Gonse, is important. I asked
him at what date it figured in the military regulations, and at what
date the official regulation had been known to the army. General Gonse
answered that he was unable to give information on that point. Well,
gentlemen, the truth is this. The official regulations concerning
siege pieces were put on sale at the house of Berger-Lebrault & Co.,
military book-sellers, and they bear the date--do not smile, gentlemen,
remembering that the _bordereau_ was written in 1894,--they bear the
date 1889. On page 21 you will find mention of the hydraulic check.
‘The purpose of the hydraulic check,’ it says, ‘is to limit the recoil
of the piece.’ In 1895 a new check was adopted for the piece 120, and
this new check, as appears from the official regulations bearing date
of 1895, is not known as a hydraulic check, but as the hydro-pneumatic
check. Either the author of the _bordereau_, speculating on the
innocence of foreigners, sent them in 1894 a note on the hydraulic
check of the piece 120, which had been a public matter since 1889,
and then really it is not worth while to say that Major Esterhazy
could not have procured it; or else he sent them in 1894 a note on the
hydro-pneumatic check, and then--there is no doubt about it,--he could
not have been an artilleryman.
“You have been spoken to also concerning the _troupes de couverture_.
Well, there are cards on sale in the most official manner, which appear
annually, and which show in the clearest way the distribution of the
troops of the entire French army for the current year. I do not know at
all what the author of the _bordereau_ sent, and General Gonse knows
no better than I do. When he sends a document like the firing manual,
he is very careful to say that it is a document difficult to procure,
and he says it in a French that seems a little singular to one who
remembers the French that Dreyfus writes in his letters. But, when he
gives notes, he says nothing. So I infer that these notes are without
interest and without importance.
“Furthermore, the impossibilities were no less great for Dreyfus. For
instance, it is impossible that a staff officer should speak of the
firing manual in the way in which it is spoken of in the _bordereau_.
They say the writer must have been an artilleryman. Well, that is not
my opinion, for all the officers will tell you that there is not one
of them who would refuse to lend his manual to an officer of infantry,
especially if the request were made by a superior officer. General
Mercier himself, in an interview, has declared that the documents have
not the importance that is attributed to them; and it is true that they
have not, for a firing manual that is new in April or in August is no
longer new in November or December. The foreign military _attachés_ see
these things at the grand manœuvres, and get all the information that
they want.”
After reviewing rapidly the testimony of the experts, the charges
against Esterhazy, his letters to Mme. de Boulancy, and his sorry
reputation in the army, M. Labori concluded his argument as follows:
“I desire to place myself, gentlemen, exclusively on the ground chosen
by the minister of war, and on that ground we find that in 1894, the
charge against Dreyfus being about to fall to the ground for want of
proof, a man who was not a dictator, but simply an ephemeral cabinet
minister in a democracy where the law alone is sovereign, dared to take
it upon himself to judge one of his officers and hand him over to a
court-martial, not for trial, but for a veritable execution. We find
that, since then, nothing has been left undone in order to cover up
this illegality. We find that men interested in deceiving themselves
have heaped inexact declarations upon incomplete declarations. We find
that all the power of the government has been employed in enveloping
the affair in darkness, even compelling the members of the council of
war, whatever their loyalty, to give to the trial which they conducted
the appearance of a judicial farce.
“Well, all this, gentlemen, was bound to fill sincere men with
indignation, and the letter of M. Emile Zola was nothing but the cry of
the public conscience. He has rallied around him the grandest and most
illustrious men in France. Do not be embarrassed, gentlemen, by the
sophism with which they try to blind you, in telling you that the honor
of the army is at stake. It is not at stake. It does not follow that
the entire army is involved, because some have shown too much zeal and
haste, and others too much credulity; because there has been a serious
forgetfulness of right, on the part of one, or of several; What is
really of interest to the French army, gentlemen, is that it should not
be burdened in history by an irreparable iniquity.
“Gentlemen of the jury, by your verdict of acquittal set an example of
firmness. You feel unmistakably that this man is the honor of France.
Zola struck, France strikes herself. And, in conclusion, I have but
one word to say. Let your verdict signify several things: first, ‘Long
live the army!’ I too cry ‘Long live the army!’ but also ‘Long live the
republic!’ and ‘Long live France!’ That is, gentlemen, ‘Long live the
right! Long live the eternal ideal!’”
_Speech of M. Georges Clemenceau._
M. Labori was followed by M. Georges Clemenceau, representing the
_gérant_ of “L’Aurore.” He spoke as follows:
“Gentlemen of the jury, we are nearing the end of this exciting trial.
After the magnificent summing-up of the young orator, whom we all
have applauded, I have no demonstration to add, and I should reproach
myself for keeping you here longer, were it not absolutely necessary.
M. Labori has told you the story of a great tragedy. Far away a man
is in confinement who perhaps is the worst criminal conceivable, and
who perhaps is a martyr, a victim of human fallibility. All the powers
that are established to secure justice M. Labori has pictured to you
in combination against justice. And he has appealed to you for the
revision of a great trial. Yes, it is a great drama that has been
developed in your presence. You, the judges, have seen the actors
appear at this bar, and, after you shall have judged, you, in turn,
will be judged by the public opinion of France. It was to obtain the
verdict of that public opinion that M. Emile Zola voluntarily committed
the act that brings him before you. After having reviewed with M. Zola
all the phases of this drama, there remains still one thing to be
done,--to try to free our minds from all impressions, and to inquire
what we have thought and felt in order to determine our judgment.
“To that end, gentlemen, would it not be well first to go back to the
state of mind in which all Frenchmen, without exception, were when
ex-Captain Dreyfus was convicted unanimously by a council of war. And,
if you will permit me, I will begin my brief explanations by reading an
article of mine with which I am confronted today, and which I wrote on
the morrow of the conviction of Dreyfus. It seems to me that at that
time all Frenchmen must have thought as I did, and, when I shall have
shown that, I will inquire how a minority of Frenchmen have arrived at
a different opinion. Here, gentlemen, is what I wrote on the day after
the conviction of Dreyfus. The article is entitled ‘The Traitor.’
Unanimously a council of war has declared Captain Alfred Dreyfus
guilty of treason. The crime is so frightful that there has been an
effort to entertain doubt to the very last moment. That a man brought
up in the religion of the flag, a soldier honored with the protection
of the secrets of the national defence, should betray,--frightful
word,--should deliver to the foreigner all that can help him in his
preparations for a new invasion,--that seemed impossible. How could
a man be found to do such a thing? How can a human being so disgrace
himself that he can expect only to be spat upon by those whom he
has served? Such a man must have no relatives, no wife, no child,
no love of anything, no tie of humanity, or even of animality,--for
the animal in the herd instinctively defends his own. He must have
been an unclean soul, an abject heart. Nobody wanted to believe it.
Every chance for doubt was eagerly seized. Then they caviled; they
calculated all the chances of error; they constructed romances on the
bits of information that reached the public ear. They wanted complete
light. They protested in advance against closed doors.
In such trials, it must be admitted, publicity, with the comments that
it involves, is liable to aggravate the evil that treason does. The
liberty to say everything, undeterred by any consideration of public
order, may even be of advantage to the defence.
“You see, gentlemen, that I then recognized that there are
circumstances when closed doors may be necessary. I have not changed
my opinion. I said that closed doors might even be favorable to the
defence, for then the defence would have the liberty to say everything;
but on one condition,--that all the documents should be submitted to
it. You know that that condition was not fulfilled. I continue.
Consequently those who had most earnestly called for a public trial
accepted without protest the statement of the president of the council
of war that there are interests higher than all personal interests.
The trial lasted four days. The accused was defended by one of the
first lawyers at the Paris bar. By the unanimous decision of his
judges, Alfred Dreyfus has been sentenced to the maximum penalty. Such
a decree is not rendered without a poignant examination of conscience,
and, if any doubt could have remained for the benefit of the accused,
we should surely have found a trace of it in the sentence. But the
judge has said: Death! But for Article 5 of the constitution of 1848,
which abolished the death penalty for political offences, Dreyfus
would be shot tomorrow.
Here a formidable question arises.
Can the crime of Dreyfus be likened to a political crime? I answer
boldly, No. Men entertaining different conceptions of the interests of
the common country may struggle with all their might for a monarchy
or for a republic, for despotism or for liberty; they may struggle
against each other; they may kill each other; but they are not to be
confounded with the public enemy who betrays the very thing that each
of them pretends to defend. How is it that jurists have been able to
establish an identity between two acts which contradict each other? I
do not know, and I do not congratulate them on their discovery.
Undoubtedly I am as firmly opposed as ever to the death penalty. But
the public can never be made to understand why, a few weeks ago, an
unfortunate boy of twenty was shot for having thrown a button from
his cloak at the head of the president of the council of war, whereas
the traitor Dreyfus soon will start for L’Ile Nou, where the garden
of Candide awaits him. Yesterday, at Bordeaux, the soldier Brevert
appeared before the council of war of la Gironde for having broken
certain articles in the barracks. At the trial he threw his cap at
the representative of the government. Death. And for the man who
helps the enemy to invade his country, who summons the Bavarians of
Bazeilles to fresh massacres, who paves the way for incendiaries,
and land-stealers, and executioners of the country, a peaceful life
given up to the joys of cocoanut-tree cultivation. There is nothing so
revolting.
Truly, I wish that the death penalty might disappear from our codes.
But who does not understand that the military code will of necessity
be its last asylum? As long as armies shall exist, it probably will be
difficult to govern them otherwise than by a law of violence. But, if,
in the scale of punishments, the death penalty is the last degree, it
seems to me that it must be reserved for the greatest crime, which,
without any doubt, is treason. To kill a dazed unfortunate who insults
his judges is madness when we allow a tranquil life to the traitor.
Since unfortunately there are beings who are capable of treason, this
crime must be made to appear in the eyes of all as the most execrable
that can be committed. Unhappily, in our present state of mind, the
sinister incident which has so deeply stirred opinion is for many but
a pretext for declamation. It is so convenient to put the trumpet to
the mouth and assume the attitudes of a disheveled patriot, while
having treasures of indulgence for generals who indulge openly in
anti-patriotic language. We were not capable of shooting Bazaine. A
marshal of France who had the highest duties toward the army of which
he was the commander-in-chief pardoned the traitor, and relieved him
of the penalty of degradation, after which they allowed him to escape.
What excuse had he,--an army commander who had betrayed his army to
the enemy? Strange patriotism that permitted this scandal. No less
strange the tolerance that recently protected the abominable language
used by another army commander in talking to two reporters.
Alfred Dreyfus is a traitor, and I offer no soldier the insult of
putting him on a level with this wretch. But what weakness in regard
to the high officer; and what severity toward a mere act of insolence
before the council of war. Strike the traitor, but let the discipline
be equal for all. To tolerate disorder in high places would end in
the same result as treason. The privilege of some causes the revolt
of others. That the army may be united and strong, there must be one
law for all. That was formerly one of the promises of the republic. We
await its realization.
“Gentlemen, I told you just now that I believe that I then expressed
the sentiments which animated all Frenchmen; and yet, when today they
confront me with this article, I pretend that it contains my complete
justification. What! We are to be suspected of desiring to outrage
the army, when, on the day when it declared its verdict, we showed
confidence in its justice? Yes, a council of war unanimously decided
that a man was guilty of treason. How could Frenchmen, on the day of
the verdict, knowing nothing of the facts, doubt that the council had
done its duty?
“But, after the long, laborious, and luminous argument of M. Labori,
have we not occasion to ask whether, since the day when I wrote this
article, serious events have not occurred? These events M. Labori
had put before you. He has discussed them, and it now seems to me
impossible that your minds should not be flooded with a light almost
complete. For, gentlemen, I confess that my ambition, since French
opinion was unanimous on the day of the verdict, is that French opinion
may be unanimous also in admitting that the most honest judges may have
been mistaken, seeing that they are men.
“Yes, gentlemen, many events have taken place since 1894. Did we then
know the _bordereau_? Did we know the secret document of ‘L’Eclair’?
Did I know of them when I wrote the article that I have just read? Did
I know that a secret document had been communicated to the judges in
the council-chamber? I do not know, gentlemen, whether M. Labori has
sufficiently insisted on this idea, but it is of a nature to so strike
the opinion of all men, without exception, that I ask myself how we can
help arriving at a unanimous opinion concerning it.
“You are told that a document was communicated in the council-chamber.
Do you realize what that means? It means that we judge a man, condemn
him, brand him, dishonor his name forever, that of his wife, that of
his children, that of his father, the names of all whom he loves, on
the strength of a document that has not been shown to him. Gentlemen,
who among you would not revolt at the thought of being condemned under
such conditions? Who among you would not cry out to us to ask justice,
if, dragged before the courts of his country after a mere pretence at
examination, after a purely formal trial, his honor and his life were
to be passed upon by judges assembled in his absence to condemn him on
the strength of a document with which he had not been made acquainted?
Is there one of us that would willingly submit to such a verdict? If
that is true, gentlemen, I say that it devolves upon all of us to see
that such a trial should be reviewed. I do not care to consider at this
moment whether or not there are any reasons for presuming innocence. I
have listened to M. Labori’s argument, and I do not conceal from you
the fact that I am now inclined to think that there are strong reasons
for believing Dreyfus innocent. I cannot affirm it absolutely; I have
not the authority. And you, gentlemen, have not to pronounce upon the
innocence of Dreyfus. All that you say is that there has been a verdict
which was not rendered legally. In this case, in truth, form is of more
importance than substance. When the right of a single individual is
injured, the right of all is in peril,--the right of the nation itself.
We love our country. That love no one monopolizes. But our country is
not simply the territory on which we live. It is the home of right
and justice, to which all men are attached, however different their
opinions, be they friends or enemies. It is the common hearth of all,
a guarantee of security, of equal justice for all. You cannot conceive
of country without justice. The governors who represent it, the judges,
the soldiers, however loyal they may be, are liable to err, and the
whole question here is whether in this instance they have committed an
error.
“When I wrote the article which I have read to you, I knew nothing of
the secret document first spoken of by ‘L’Eclair.’ I was unacquainted
with the _bordereau_ reproduced by ‘Le Matin’; I had not heard the
testimony of M. Salle, or its confirmation by M. Demange; I had been
furnished no key to the reticence of General Mercier; I had not been
informed of the prejudices of Colonel Sandherr against the Jews.
[Murmurs of protest.] I am surprised to hear these protests. I have no
desire to say anything that can wound anybody. A man came to this bar
who, I regret to say, left the court-room amid the silence of all. I
wish that he had been hailed with our unanimous applause. I refer to M.
Lalance, former protesting deputy in the reichstag, who carried into
the German assembly the protests of French patriotism. He came here to
tell us that Colonel Sandherr, whom I never had the honor to know, and
against whom I have absolutely nothing to say, had prejudices against
the Jews,--prejudices which he shares with a very great number of very
honest people. Therefore I have no intention of outraging Colonel
Sandherr. I simply cite the testimony of a witness.”
The Judge.--“M. Clemenceau, will you turn toward the jury?”
M. Clemenceau.--“I beg you to excuse me, _Monsieur le Président_; I do
so willingly. M. Lalance told us that in Alsace patriotic Jews voted
for the protesting bishops, which honors them. He told us that at a
military manifestation--at Bussang, I believe--a Jew wept, and that
Colonel Sandherr, on his attention being called to it, remarked: ‘I
distrust those tears.’ Now, it was Colonel Sandherr who prepared the
Dreyfus trial.
“I had no knowledge of the accusation against Major Esterhazy founded
on this frightful similarity of handwriting; I had no knowledge of
the indictment of Dreyfus; I did not know of the discovery by Colonel
Picquart of a dispatch found in the basket where the _bordereau_
was found, torn as the _bordereau_ was torn, without a stamp as the
_bordereau_ was without a stamp, and which yet was deemed of no force
against Major Esterhazy, while against Dreyfus so much was made of the
_bordereau_. And yet, gentlemen, this dispatch contains the name of
Major Esterhazy in full.
“I had no knowledge of the first investigation made by General de
Pellieux, which was concluded without any expert examination of
handwritings, General de Pellieux alleging that M. Mathieu Dreyfus
offered no proofs, although the only proof possible was to be looked
for in the expert examination of handwritings. I had no knowledge of
the examination conducted by Major Ravary. I did not know that Colonel
Picquart had insisted in vain that an inquiry should be opened with
a view to ascertaining who conveyed to ‘L’Eclair’ the information
concerning the secret document. I did not know that Colonel Picquart
had asked an investigation concerning the Speranza and Blanche
forgeries, and that this investigation was refused, so that he was
finally obliged to carry the matter into the civil courts. I did not
know, and I could not know, that the proceeding instigated against a
man accused of treason by the chief of the bureau of information was
going to be turned into a proceeding against this chief of the bureau
of information. I could not foresee that a man of the importance of
General de Pellieux would come to tell us that the closing of the doors
was useless. I could not suppose that the archives of the minister
of war were so kept that the retention of a file of documents by M.
Teyssonnière could pass unnoticed. I did not know that men would be
struck on the threshold of this palace for shouting ‘Long live the
republic!’ And there were many other things of which I was unaware.
How could I have divined that a secret document, the document which
they did not dare to show to M. Demange, the document that General
Billot refused to show to his old friend, M. Scheurer-Kestner, could be
stolen from the most secret drawer of the minister of war, and carried
about Paris in the hands of a veiled lady, finally falling into the
hands of a man suspected of treason? How could I have believed that
a man suspected of treason, or even any man whomsoever, you, or I,
or anybody, could present himself with impunity at the war offices,
in possession of a secret document of which the chief of the bureau
of information was supposed to have sole care? And, finally, how
could I believe, when they tell us that we insult the army, that I
should witness here the extension of a welcome to the only man who,
beyond the possibility of dispute, has insulted France and the army,
Major Esterhazy? It matters little that he denies a letter whose
authenticity will be proved later. I take those which he admits. They
are sufficient, and they prove beyond a doubt that Major Esterhazy, who
still wears the uniform--I know not why--is an abominable insulter of
France and of the army. I could not suspect that I should hear, as he
left this court-room, cries of ‘Long live Esterhazy!’ and ‘Long live
the army!’ Shall I offend honorable officers here present, if I say to
them that it is high time to distinguish the army from Major Esterhazy?
“M. Labori just now shouted: ‘Long live the army!’ Why should we not
shout: ‘Long live the army!’ when three-fourths of us here, lawyers
or not, are soldiers. Yes, Long live the army! but by what aberration
of mind, when a man speaks of the French army as Major Esterhazy has
spoken of it, do the people dare to associate the two cries: ‘Long live
Esterhazy!’ and ‘Long live the army!’
“But, gentlemen, we have seen a still more unexpected spectacle. Two
eminent commanders of the French army, General de Pellieux and General
de Boisdeffre, have come here, and, perhaps without fully realizing
what it means, have used threatening language. The attorney-general,
in his summing-up, recalling the fact that M. Zola had said that the
council of war had condemned in obedience to orders, asked: ‘Where are
the orders? Show us the orders.’ Well, I show them to you, Monsieur
Attorney-General. They have come to this bar in uniform, and have said:
‘I order you to convict M. Emile Zola.’ And I do not suppose that M.
Emile Zola thought for a moment that some one appeared before the
council of war and said to the judges: I order you to condemn Dreyfus.
I order you to acquit Esterhazy. There are different ways of saying a
thing, and the state of mind of the speaker, and the state of mind of
those to whom he speaks, create circumstances that must be taken into
consideration. General de Pellieux, addressing the jurors directly,
said to them; ‘Gentlemen, the crime--’ he did not say the word,
but that was certainly what he meant,--‘the crime of M. Emile Zola
consists in taking away from the soldiers their confidence in their
commanders.’ Assuming an approaching war, he said to you: ‘Without this
confidence we lead your children to butchery.’ What directer threat
could they have used? And the next day General de Boisdeffre stood at
this bar, and told you that, if you ventured to acquit M. Emile Zola,
he would not remain at the head of the staff. That manifestation was
anti-military in the first degree, for you did not appoint General de
Boisdeffre, and it is not for you to receive his resignation. General
de Boisdeffre is a commander, but a subordinate commander. We know
nothing of his military capacities; until we know more, we are bound
to assume them to be good, and we have not to decide his fate. That
is a matter between him and the minister of war, or parliament. Thus,
to prove that no orders were given to the council of war, they have
publicly dictated orders to this jury.
“Well, since the first suspicions to which the publication of
the _bordereau_ gave rise, since the secret document spoken of
by ‘L’Eclair,’ since the indictments, and down to these last
manifestations of the staff, have you not seen the light continually
increasing regarding the Dreyfus case? For my part, as I told you, I
at first thought Dreyfus guilty, _a priori_, without knowing anything
about it; and I have nothing to eliminate from the expressions of my
article. I even confess to you that I was much slower to harbor doubt
than certain men who are not to be suspected of not loving the army.
Articles from the pen of M. Paul de Cassagnac, written in 1896, have
been read to you, which more than hint that the verdict needs revision.
M. de Cassagnac wrote several articles; I read them; they did not
convince me; I remained silent; and not until the very late events, not
until the day when I went to see M. Scheurer-Kestner, will you find a
line from me in reference to the Dreyfus case.
“I went to see M. Scheurer-Kestner under circumstances which I
have publicly related. Although he is an old friend of mine, I was
absolutely ignorant of the fact that he was taking an interest in the
Dreyfus case. He had never said a word to me about it. When I learned
through the newspapers that he was in possession of special information
concerning it, and that he believed in the innocence of Dreyfus, I
went to see him. He did not mention the name of Major Esterhazy; he
showed me handwritings. I am not an expert, and these writings did not
convince me at once. I said so the next day in my newspaper, and I
continued to believe that Dreyfus was a traitor. I did more. I asked
‘L’Aurore’ to insert extracts from articles that had appeared in
‘L’Intransigeant’ containing arguments against Dreyfus. I said: ‘The
truth must be known. Let us not hesitate to give the arguments for and
against.’ You see, then, that I was slow in making up my mind. I should
have only to show you the sequence of my articles to convince you that
I long resisted the idea that Dreyfus could be innocent. But how was it
possible to resist always, when the light was growing brighter every
day, and when all the powers established for the doing of justice were
combining to deny justice?
“Gentlemen, I know that it has been said that this is a Jewish
movement, and that many who do not say it think it. Well, what are the
facts appearing from the testimony given at this bar as to the origin
of the movement in favor of, Dreyfus? I do not refer to his family,
which believes in his innocence, and which naturally would move heaven
and earth to prove it. But who were the first, outside of the Dreyfus
family, to give body to this thought? Gentlemen, you know that it was
in the army that doubt was given birth. It was Colonel Picquart, whom
I did not know until I saw him here, and who seems to me worthy of all
respect, and for whom I am glad to testify my sincere affection,--it
was Colonel Picquart who designated Major Esterhazy. It was Colonel
Picquart who first conceived doubt.”