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.
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.
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 thebordereau, 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 thebordereau. 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 thebordereauwas 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 thebordereau, 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 thetroupes 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 thebordereausent, 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 thebordereau. 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 militaryattachéssee 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 envelopingthe 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!’”
M. Labori was followed by M. Georges Clemenceau, representing thegérantof “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.
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 thecouncil 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.
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 thecouncil 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 thebordereau? 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 amongyou 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 thebordereaureproduced 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 ColonelSandherr, 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 thebordereauwas found, torn as thebordereauwas torn, without a stamp as thebordereauwas without a stamp, and which yet was deemed of no force against Major Esterhazy, while against Dreyfus so much was made of thebordereau. 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 Generalde 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 saidthat 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 thebordereaugave 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 Cassagnacwrote 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.”
M. Zola.—“And he is an anti-Semite.”
M. Clemenceau.—“M. Zola tells me that he is an anti-Semite. I did not know it, and it does not matter. It was Colonel Picquart who submitted his doubts to his superior,General Gonse, and it is out of the scruples of those two men, expressed in the letters with which you are now familiar, that the whole matter which brings us here today has grown.
“Now, gentlemen, what is the question before us? For my part, I consider it at once most simple and most complex. Most simple, for it is a question of legality, a question whether the law which is the guarantee of all of us, the law which protects us against the temptations of judges, the law which protects us against exterior passions, the law which safeguards all of us from the highest to the lowest,—it is a question whether the guarantees which this law furnishes have been observed in the case of Dreyfus. No, they have not. And that is all I want to know. I do not examine the presumptions of innocence, which are enormous, especially now that the present trial has shed full light upon them. I consider only the question of legality. And, the question being so simple, why has it aroused so many passions against it? It is because justice, while undoubtedly the most beautiful ideal to sing and to celebrate, is also the most difficult to realize.
“The social organization is theoretically admirable. The people send to parliament men whose mission it is to represent their will. This will is formulated under the forms of law. The judges apply it, the police execute it. But it comes about that men invested with public power suffer themselves, because they are men, because they are weak, to be abused by the idea that they are more or less necessary men. Having some power, they want more. They confuse their own interests, individually and as a body, with the general interest, and, when it is pointed out to them that they have made an error, their first impulse is to resisten masse. Their entire profession is at stake.
“May I be permitted this respectful criticism? They say to us: ‘You insult the army.’ No, we do not insult the army. The army exists only through the law. We desire it to be great through the law, for we have duties toward it. But it has duties toward us, and there must be an understanding between military and civil society on the very ground of law and justice. Gentlemen, France for twenty-five years has been carrying on a double enterprise, which seems contradictory. We are a vanquished nation,—gloriously vanquished, it is true, but vanquished none the less,—and it has been our thought to re-establish the power of France. That is a matter of necessity. It must be, becausethere is no civil law, there is no means of doing right and justice, if we are not, in the first place, masters in our own house. And our second thought has been that of ridding ourselves of all personal despotisms, of every vestige of oligarchy, and founding in our own country a democracy of liberty and justice.
“Then the question arose whether these two views are not contradictory. The principle of civil society is right, liberty, justice. The principle of military society is discipline, countersign, obedience. And, as each is led by the consciousness of the utility of his function to try to encroach upon his neighbor, military society, which has force at its disposal, tends to encroach on civil authority, and to look upon civil society sometimes from a somewhat lofty standpoint. It is a wrong. Soldiers have noraison d’êtreexcept as defenders of the principle which civil society represents. A reconciliation between these two institutions is necessary. The professional army no longer exists. The universal army, the army of all, must be penetrated with the ideas of all, with the universal ideas of right, since it is made up of the universality of citizens. If, absorbed by the thought of defence, which is of the first legitimacy, civil society were to rush into military servitude, we should still have a soil to defend, it is true; but the moral country would be lost, because, abandoning the ideas of justice and liberty, we should have abandoned all that has been done hitherto in this world by the glory and renown of France. These two societies must come to an understanding. Military society must enjoy all its rights, in order to do all its duties. Civil society, conscious of its duties toward the country and the army, must maintain its rights inflexibly, not only in the higher interest of the principle which it represents, but to insure a maximum of efficiency in the military institution. Yes, indeed, the army must be strong, but, as the abnegation of some and the absolute command of others are destined to fuse in one immense effort of life and death for the defence of the territory, it is necessary that civil society, by the superiority of its principle, should preserve its full power of control.
“Gentlemen, you belong to the army. At what moment will the army be most admirable? At the moment when, running to the frontier, it will have all our heart and all our hope. Suppose that a hundred thousand Frenchmen fall in the first battles. Ninety thousand of these will be men who today are not wearing the uniform, and only ten thousand ofthem will be men who call themselves soldiers. Will these men lie in two heaps? Will it be said that there is one honor belonging to the ten thousand military men, and another belonging to the ninety thousand civilians? No. There is but one honor for all, the honor that consists in the fulfillment of the supreme duty, total duty toward the country. Then let us not abuse a word which no longer has the significance that it had in the days of professional armies. The honor of the army today is the honor of all. The army has but one honor,—that it is potent for the national defence, that in peace it is always respectful of the law.
“General de Pellieux asked us for confidence the other day. And, while he spoke, I reflected that, during the twenty-five years of the empire, we had full confidence in the commanders of the army. We never criticised them, we never controlled them. The men whom I saw start were full of confidence. You know to what disasters they ran. M. Zola has been reproached for having written ‘La Débâcle.’ Alas! gentlemen,—and I say it very low,—if he wrote it, it was because before him there had been men of war to organize it and to bring it about. It is a return of that that is to be avoided, and patriotism does not consist in admiring, whether or no, everything that is done in the army, but in submitting the army to the discipline of the law. When General de Boisdeffre came to this bar, after General de Pellieux, to use toward this jury language that was threatening, he revealed to you what must have taken place before the council of war, and from what we have seen of the trial in the open day we may judge of the trial behind closed doors. The language of General Billot at the tribune was clear enough. It was the equivalent of an order; and did not Colonel Picquart say, to explain the insufficiency of the Ravary report: ‘General de Pellieux had concluded that there was no ground for a prosecution; Major Ravary could not do otherwise than come to the conclusion of his superior?’ It is not necessary to conclude therefrom that the generals have wilfully failed in their duty. Nothing more than their own words is necessary to show us how, without intending it, without realizing it, they have stepped aside from the clear path of right and justice. General de Boisdeffre would have proved it superabundantly, if that had been necessary. He was asked for the proof, or, rather, he was not asked for it, for we were not allowed to ask it, but at the bottom of our hearts we wanted it revealed. If he had brought a decisive proof that would have compelled everybody to bow, for mypart, I swear to you, I would have left this court-room with a sense of relief. But what sort of proof did they bring us? A document later by two years than the Dreyfus verdict. What sort of justice is it, gentlemen, that discovers proofs of a just verdict two years after the verdict was rendered, and which produces, as convincing, documents that were never submitted to the accused? That is the philosophy of these closed doors. Behind them everything was known, even the secret documents, known to all except to him whom these documents were to condemn. They hide from us documents the revelation of which they say would be harmful to the national defence, and these documents, which they refuse to M. Scheurer-Kestner and to the chamber, traverse the highways in Major Esterhazy’s pocket. M. Méline, to whom Jaurès said: ‘Yes or no, did you communicate secret documents?’ replied to him: ‘We will answer you elsewhere.’ Elsewhere is here, and here they have not answered us, for I cannot consider as an answer the assertion that two years after the verdict they discovered a proof against the prisoner. M. Labori has told you that this document is a forgery. I tell you that, even if it is true, it is the first duty of all of us to see that this document is submitted to Dreyfus, whether he is a traitor or not,—to Dreyfus and to his lawyer; and, if you say that, because he is a Jew, he is not to be tried as others are tried, I tell you that the day will come when you will be similarly treated because you are a Protestant or a Freethinker. This is a denial of the French idea born of the Revolution, the idea of liberty for all, the idea of tolerance for all, the idea of equality of guarantees, equality of rights, equality of justice. If you once condemn a man without the forms of justice, some day the forms of justice will be abrogated by others to your harm. How justly the historians have cried out against the abominable law of the 22d of Prairial, made by Robespierre to rid himself of his enemies! All thinkers have handed over to the execration of mankind this abominable law that abolished the right of defence. It is odious, it is infamous; but at least it allowed the prisoner to know the charge against him. Why do you not do as much, you in times which are not of revolutionary violence, in peace, in tranquillity, when all the machinery of the public powers is operating freely? Yes, we condemn a man, a French officer, for he is a French officer, and not of the least distinguished, belonging to a family which has given proofs of patriotism. I do not know the Dreyfus family. I only reproduce the testimony of M. Lalance, which M. Labori has read to you.
“Even if Dreyfus is a traitor, I do not see what interest we can have in refusing to honor people who are not responsible for the crime committed, and who have given manifest proofs of love for the French country. I cannot suffer the error of one to become a burden on all. If Dreyfus is guilty, let him be punished as severely as you will. You have my article, in which I say that I ask no pity for him. But, if he has brothers, children, parents, who have behaved themselves as good Frenchmen, I hold it a point of honor to do them justice. It is the misfortune of the times, in which all passions are furiously unchained, that we will not listen to the voice of reason; that we insult each other, that we accuse each other. You have even seen here officers who are old comrades, who tomorrow will vie with each other in deeds of valor and self-sacrifice, if the country is threatened,—you have seen them accuse each other, defy each other, and exchange retorts as if they were sword-thrusts. Tomorrow Colonel Picquart will cross swords with a companion in arms whom at the bottom of his heart perhaps he loves. And we, who do not wear the uniform, who are Frenchmen all the same, and who intend also that France shall be effectively defended, what do we do? A few of us assert that perhaps a judicial error has been committed. Then goes up a great cry from the crowd: ‘Traitor! Scoundrel! Renegade! Agent of the Jews!’ And these are Frenchmen, gentlemen, who think to serve France by pointing her out as a den of people who sell themselves; these are Frenchmen, to whom it never occurs to suppose that their fellow-citizens are capable of French generosity. They hurl insults, they betray hatred, and it is thus that they pretend to serve the country.
“Gentlemen, if our enemies do not understand us, it is our duty to ourselves and to our country to understand them, in order that the prevailing obscurity may be dissipated. For my part, I consider that the worst treason, perhaps because it is the most common, is treason to the French spirit, that spirit of tolerance and justice which has made us beloved by the peoples of the earth. Even if France were to disappear tomorrow, we should leave behind us one thing eternal, the sentiments of liberty and human justice that France unchained upon the world in 1789. Gentlemen, when the hour of insults is past, when they have finished outraging us, it will be necessary to reply. And then what will they offer us? The thing judged. Gentlemen, look above your heads. See that Christ upon the cross. There isthe thing judged, and it has been put above the judge’s head that the sight of it may not disturb him. It ought to be placed at the other end of the room, in order that, before rendering his verdict, the judge might have before his eyes the greatest example of a judicial error, held up for the shame of humanity. Oh! I am not one of the worshippers of Christ, in the sense in which many among you are, perhaps. But, after all, perhaps I love him more, and certainly I respect him more than do many of those who preach massacre in the name of the religion of love.
“They also tell us of the honor of the army. On that point I have answered, but I wanted to cite to you, so odious are these words of treason, and so revolting is it to me to see them flung so freely about,—I wanted to cite to you the case of Marshal Bazaine. He was really a traitor, was he not? He betrayed French soldiers by hundreds of thousands, at the critical moment when it depended upon him to change the fortune of our arms and save his country. I wish to indulge in no declamation here, but I declare, and I defy any man to rise to contradict me, that Bazaine committed the greatest act of treason known to the world. Condemned to military degradation and to death, they spared him both. Tell me, do you think that the responsibility of commanders is greater than the responsibility of soldiers? Yes, undoubtedly. Well, if this responsibility is greater, why every day do they punish simple soldiers so pitilessly, and why do they pardon the traitorpar excellence, the traitor who had no excuse, the traitor whose outstretched hand France awaited on the day of her supreme disaster. To whatrégimedid they submit him? Let me read you a few words from a pamphlet by M. Marchi, keeper of the prison of the Sainte Marguerite Islands. Here are his instructions:
You will treat the prisoner with the greatest regard; in short, at Sainte Marguerite one must be a man of the world, and not a jailer.
You will treat the prisoner with the greatest regard; in short, at Sainte Marguerite one must be a man of the world, and not a jailer.
“M. Marchi arrives at Sainte Marguerite. The temporary superintendent makes him familiar with the service, and informs him, among other things, that, supposing it to be his duty to watch the condemned man whenever he went to walk upon the terrace, Lieutenant-Colonel Valley went to Paris to protest against the conduct of the keeper, wherefore the keeper had been reprimanded? It would take too long to tell you of all the instructions. Suffice it to know that cabinet ministers wrote to Bazaine, that they addressed him as Monsieur the Marshal, and that there was a question of pensioning him. Boats were allowed to come to the edge ofthe terrace, whence he conversed with visitors. On the eve of his escape he had obtained permission to go out with a guardian. Well, really, when I compare this tolerance, which is an outrage upon France and upon the army, with the hatred unchained against the prisoner on Devil’s Island; when I remember that an artillery officer named Triponé, who had not only delivered documents, but had delivered the Bourges detonator, of which we were the only possessors in Europe, by the complicity of the sub-officer Fessler, to the house of Armstrong, which then gave the benefit of it to Germany; when I see that Triponé was sentenced to five years in prison, and was pardoned after two years and a half, though his crime was certainly not less than that of Dreyfus,—I say that there is no equality of punishment between these Christians and this Jew.
“Again, there is another fact. Adjutant Chatelain, who is now in New Caledonia, perhaps is farming there and raising cattle; his crime, if I remember rightly, consisted in the sale of certain documents to Italy. He was not less guilty than Dreyfus. But what a difference in treatment! They talk of equality before the law. It is a phrase. We await the reality. They tell us that we have violated the law. I maintain, on the contrary, that we appear here in the interest of the law, and I say that we were unable to do otherwise. For the rectification of a judicial error application was made to the war department, to the executive power. You know how General Billot received the application; he refused to act. M. Trarieux applied to M. Méline; M. Scheurer-Kestner did the same; M. Méline would not even talk with them. In the senate, discussion, leading to nothing. In the chamber, discussion, leading to nothing. And similarly with the council of war, with the investigation by General de Pellieux, with the investigation by Major Ravary. Now, when all the powers that are the organs of the law fail in their legal duty, what was left for those who, like M. Zola, have undertaken the work of justice from which the powers of justice shrank? M. Zola’s idea is an appeal to the people, an appeal to the people represented by twelve jurors whom he does not know, whose opinions none of us know, to pass upon his act, and say whether they will allow him to bring out the light. If he must be struck, he is very proud to be struck for this confession of justice and truth.
“If the jury gives him its aid, the pacification of minds may be accomplished, and the agitation of this day finishedby the legal reparation due to all who have been deprived of the guarantees of the law. Without truth, M. Zola can do nothing; he is powerless; he will be baffled on every hand. With a bit of the truth, M. Zola is invincible. It is for the jurors to answer to the appeal of truth.
“I have said that the government is fallible. The jurors also have no higher light. They are men. They do their best. They have the advantage of being for a time unbiased byesprit de corps, and of being able thus, in perfect liberty of mind, to act in accordance with that need of superior justice which we all feel. We are before you, gentlemen. Shortly you will pass judgment. I hope that you may not be governed by the argument which now controls too many minds. How many Frenchmen there are who say: ‘Possibly Dreyfus was condemned illegally, but he was condemned justly, and that is sufficient; so let us say no more about it.’ Sophism of theraison d’Etat, which has done us so much harm,—which hampered the magnificent movement of the French revolution by the guillotine and all sorts of violence. Ah! we have torn down the Bastille. Every 14th of July we dance to celebrate the abolition of theraison d’Etat. But a Bastille still remains within us, and, when we question ourselves, an illegality committed to the detriment of others seems to us acceptable, and we say, and we think, that this may be a little evil for a great good. Profound error. An illegality is a form of iniquity, since the law is guarantee of justice.
“Gentlemen, all the generals together have no right to say that the illegality which comes from a certain form of justice, since it is a denial of it; all the magistrates together,—have no right to say that illegality can be justice, because the law is nothing but the guarantee of justice. To do justice outside of the law no one has either the right or the power. If you wish to render the supreme service to the country under the present circumstances, establish the supremacy of the law, the supremacy of justice. Cause to disappear from our souls that respect for theraison d’Etatso absurd in a democracy. With Louis XIV, with Napoleon, with men who hold a people in their hands and govern according to their good pleasure, theraison d’Etatis intelligible. In a democracy theraison d’Etatis only a contradiction, a vestige of the past. ‘France is a high moral person,’ said Gambetta. I do not deny it, monarchy or republic. But I say that the tradition of theraison d’Etathas had its day, and that the hour has come for us to attach ourselves to the modern ideaof liberty and justice. After the original duty of defence of the soil, nothing can be more urgent than to establish among us arégimeof liberty and justice, which shall be in accordance with the ambition of our fathers, an example to all civilized nations.
“At the present hour, I admit, the problem presents itself to you in a bitter and sorrowful form. Oh! it is very sorrowful to sincere people to find themselves in hostility with brave soldiers who intended to do well, who wished to do well, and who, thinking to do well, have not done well. That happens to civilians not in uniform; that happens to civilians in uniform,—for soldiers are nothing else.
“From this point of view you are at a turning-point in our history, and you must submit military society to the control of the civil law, or abandon to it our most precious conquests. We have not to pass upon General de Boisdeffre or upon General de Pellieux. They will explain themselves to their superiors. It is not our affair. They have nothing to ask of us. But, however painful it may be to find ourselves for a day in conflict with them, take your course, since no danger can result, unless you yourselves abandon the cause of the law of justice which you represent. Thus you will render us the grand service, the inestimable service, of extinguishing at the beginning the religious war that threatens to dishonor this country. [Murmurs of protest.]
“Since you protest, so much the better. I am willing to believe that it is your intention to renew the wars of religion; but, when I see in France, in our France of Algeria, a pillaging of warehouses; when I see it boasted in the newspapers that safes have been thrown into the sea, and that contracts have been torn up; when I see that Jews, while going to get bread for their families, have been massacred,—I have a right to say that religious warfare offered no other aspect in the middle ages; and I say that the jurors of today, in rendering a verdict in favor of liberty and justice for all, even for Jews, will signify their intention of putting an end to these excesses by saying to those who have committed these barbarities: ‘In the name of the French people, you shall go no farther.’
“Gentlemen, we are the law; we are toleration; we are the defenders of the army, for we do not separate justice from patriotism, and the army will not be strong, it will not be respected, unless it derives its power from respect for the law. I add that we are the defenders of the army, when we ask you to drive Esterhazy from it. You have driven outPicquart, and kept Esterhazy. And, gentlemen of the jury, since there has been reference to your children, tell me who would like to belong to the same battalion that Esterhazy belongs to? Tell me if you will trust this officer to lead your children against the enemy? I need only ask the question. No one will dare reply.
“Gentlemen, we have known terrible shocks in this century. We have experienced all glories and all disasters. We are now confronted with the unknown, between all fears and all hopes. Seize the occasion, as we have seized it, and determine your destinies. It is an august thing, this judgment of the people upon itself. It is a terrible thing also, this decision by the people of its future. Your verdict, gentlemen, will not decide our fates as much as your own. We appear before you. You appear before history.”
It was six o’clock when M. Clemenceau took his seat and Attorney-General Van Cassel rose to reply.
“I am obliged to place the question before you anew. M. Zola has declared that the council of war condemned in obedience to orders. Has he given the slightest proof of this? He has not even attempted it. For twelve days we have heard nothing here but insults to the army; and now, for the last two days, in order that they might be tolerated here, they have done nothing but repeat that the staff is made up of brave generals, and that the council of war rendered its verdict in good faith. The insulters have been forced to hide themselves behind the army, shouting: ‘Long live the army!’”
To this address M. Labori made rejoinder. Facing the audience, which was crying “Enough! enough! Down with Labori!” he said:
“This last incident was necessary, in order to show the two parties to this debate,—those, on the one hand, who plead for justice and right, and those who shout ‘Enough!’ when, in the name of the accused, the counsel takes the floor, as is his right.”
Then, turning to the attorney-general, he continued:
“You call me an insulter of the army; for it was at me that your words were aimed, since it was I who spoke for two days. I am not of those who are accustomed to such attacks, and I am not of those who are disposed to submit to them. I do not accept this insult that rises to me from your seat, Monsieur Attorney-General, however high your position. From the standpoint of talent you and I are equals. You have no lesson to give me. I refuse you the right, andI say that you rose to utter these brief words because you knew that they would let loose a manifestation which you had a right to expect from a hall packed against us.”
Then, turning to the jury, he concluded:
“There are two ways of understanding right, gentlemen of the jury. The question before you is this: Is Zola guilty? Let these clamors dictate to you, gentlemen, the duty of firmness that is incumbent upon you. You are the sovereign arbiters. You are higher than the army, higher than the judicial power. You are the justice of the people, which only the judgment of history will judge. If you have the courage, declare Zola guilty of having struggled against all hatreds in behalf of right, justice, and liberty.”
The session was then suspended, and the jury retired for deliberation. After thirty-five minutes, it returned. The court came in again. Then the foreman of the jury rose and said:
“On my honor and my conscience the declaration of the jury is: as concerns Perrenx,yes, by a majority vote. As concerns Zola,yes, by a majority vote.”
Then the air was filled with cries of ‘Long live the army! Long live France! Down with the insulters! To the door with Jews! Death to Zola!’ amid which Zola sadly cried: ‘These people are cannibals.’
The court then retired to deliberate upon the sentence. Returning a few minutes later, it condemned M. Perrenx, thegérantof “L’Aurore,” to an imprisonment of four months and the payment of a fine of three thousand francs; upon M. Emile Zola it inflicted the maximum penalty of one year’s imprisonment and a fine of three thousand francs.
The trial thus being ended, the court adjourned; but a day or two later the council for the accused appealed from the verdict to the higher court.