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.
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?
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.
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.
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 councilof 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.
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. Andshe 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 loweringmy 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!
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 loweringmy 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.
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.
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 complimentsupon 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.
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 unsignedbordereau, 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.
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 unsignedbordereau, 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 militaryattachéof a great neighboring power, from which it was taken by an agent in our pay. Later it was pretended that this wasnot 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.
It has been said that this document was found, torn up, in the waste-basket of a militaryattachéof a great neighboring power, from which it was taken by an agent in our pay. Later it was pretended that this wasnot 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:
Ourconfrère, “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 ourconfrèrefor pursuing such a demonstration, but that this demonstration is impossible. Like most of our fellow-citizens, we believe Dreyfus guilty, but, like ourconfrère, we are not sure of it. And, like ourconfrèrealso, 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 Cauvincase, 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 ourconfrère, “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.
Ourconfrère, “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 ourconfrèrefor pursuing such a demonstration, but that this demonstration is impossible. Like most of our fellow-citizens, we believe Dreyfus guilty, but, like ourconfrère, we are not sure of it. And, like ourconfrèrealso, 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 Cauvincase, 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 ourconfrère, “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 mereesprit 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 themen masseand 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. WhenColonel 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.
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 thebordereauand 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 therôleof 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 factas 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 thebordereauappeared 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 withouta 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 certainidea, 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.
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 thebordereauthat was in question; that thebordereauhad 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.
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.
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.