Fourteenth Day—February 22.

This judgment is going to fill the country with profound sadness and bitter disappointment. In the first place, profound sadness. For the great mass of the French people, in spite of their hostility to the Jews, do not carry the blindness of religious hatred so far as to wish that a traitor may be found in the ranks of our officers, though this traitor should be a Jew. They would have welcomed with joy a complete, absolute acquittal, establishing indisputably that it was a cruel blunder to have believed, on the strength of false indications, that a French officer had betrayed his country. For the love of country, in its grand and holy solidarity, knows neither Jew or Christian. France is a mother, and necessarily suffers atrociously at the public dishonor of any of her sons.

“You see that I was not wrong in saying that those who harbored a doubt cherished also a hope; and this doubt continued in the minds of all who knew anything of the matter, however little. Others, knowing nothing, but accustomed to observe, harbored at least an anxiety. Why? Because there was too much darkness and too much light as well. For the trouble in this matter has been that, while the proof remained hidden in obscurity, public opinion took possession of the affair, determined to know all. Never from the first has there been complete silence; the discussion continued, assertions were made, falsehoods were spread, or suffered to spread, thus creating that anxiety and anguish the fruit of which the country now is reaping. Am I wrong in saying that? Again I place myself under the authority to which I appealed just now. On the eve of the trial of 1894 the entire press, even the press of M. Drumont himself, called for a public trial. Listen to what M. Paul de Cassagnac said in ‘L’Autorité’ on December 8, 1894.

Must I say it? The farther I go, the more perplexed I feel, and I ask myself if perchance Captain Dreyfus is not innocent. Do not cry out, friendly readers, but reflect. Is not this solution, if it result from the trial itself, the solution to be desired? For my part, from the beginning I have been unable to reconcile myself to the idea that a French officer could have sold his country to the enemy. And no hatred that I feel for the Jews can make me prefer to find a guilty man in the uniform of a soldier, rather than an innocent man. What fills me with doubt iswhat they say about the document on which this charge rests. The document in question is one said to have been written by Dreyfus. It was found, they say, by a secret agent, in the waste-basket of a foreign militaryattaché, into which it had fallen. Dreyfus denies that the writing is his, and four experts have examined it. Three say that he wrote it; the fourth holds the contrary opinion.

“This is an error. The document was examined by five experts, three of whom declared Dreyfus the writer, the two others dissenting.

If this had been the only proof, the charge against Dreyfus would have been an imprudent one. Who does not know, in fact, that, even when experts are agreed, it is far from sure that they are right? And the public, very incredulous in regard to this pretended science, has not forgotten the famous trial of la Boussinière at Angers, in which the experts in handwriting made anything but a brilliant spectacle. Now, two of the experts who were so unfortunate in that case are of the three who declare that this document was written by Dreyfus.Unhappily for Dreyfus, there seems to be something else. There is talk of another document found in the office of the same militaryattaché, which is said to be overwhelming. But the government, it seems, has not the courage to publicly confess how and where it procured this document, and so they hesitate to produce it. Then what remains of the charge? Is it because the government does not feel sufficiently well armed that it proposes to call for closed doors. Is it because it fears the foreign power whose militaryattachéhas played an ignoblerôle? We do not know. But what we do know is that public opinion will not tolerate concealment, and will insist on an open trial. It would be really strange, were France, after her indignation at the closed doors behind which the Italians strangled the Romani case, were to use the same wretched means toward Captain Dreyfus. A French officer in France must have the right to publicly defend his honor, and the government which accuses him is bound to grant him the favor of the open day. Let the government have a care. The people will not be satisfied with a minimum sentence based on presumptions, and formulated behind doors closed to stifle the affair. Somebody here is guilty. If it is not Captain Dreyfus, it is the government. And what a terrible responsibility would weigh upon the government of the republic if it were proved that, without proofs convincing to the most sceptical, it had committed the horrible crime of sullying the whole French army in accusing an officer of the most frightful of misdeeds, of having sold his country to the enemy. If Captain Dreyfus is acquitted, the minister of war becomes the traitor. Dreyfus acquitted, Mercier must be driven in shame, not only from the war department, but from the ranks of the army, for having cast suspicion upon an innocent officer.Though perplexed today, I believe in the guilt of Dreyfus. For I cannot imagine that they would have arrested this officer, that they would have preferred such a charge against him, that they would have submitted him for months to the frightful torture of the nation’s censure, to suffer which is a hundred times worse than to be shot,—I cannot imagine that they would have so tortured this living man, unless they were absolutely certain of his guilt. So a public trial is indispensable. Acquittal in the darkness would leave Dreyfus under the stain of suspicion. It would look as if he had been acquitted through fear of a foreign power. Or it would be said that the Jews bought the consciences of the judges. An acquittal behind closed doors is not an acquittal; it is a sort of hypocritical and shameful condemnation. As for condemnation,who would dare to hope for it in the absence of those irrefutable proofs that in our day society is obliged to spread before the eyes of everybody, before mortally and materially killing one of its children. To take from a man, from a soldier, his honor and his life without saying why? Nonsense! It is impossible. Human reason forbids such a return to the darkest traditions of the secret tribunals of Spain and the Netherlands. The government of the republic renewing and aggravating the mysterious and unavowable processes of the Inquisition and of St. Vehme when the fate of a French officer is in the balance! And from pusillanimity! I repeat, it is impossible, for it would be too ignominious.

Unhappily for Dreyfus, there seems to be something else. There is talk of another document found in the office of the same militaryattaché, which is said to be overwhelming. But the government, it seems, has not the courage to publicly confess how and where it procured this document, and so they hesitate to produce it. Then what remains of the charge? Is it because the government does not feel sufficiently well armed that it proposes to call for closed doors. Is it because it fears the foreign power whose militaryattachéhas played an ignoblerôle? We do not know. But what we do know is that public opinion will not tolerate concealment, and will insist on an open trial. It would be really strange, were France, after her indignation at the closed doors behind which the Italians strangled the Romani case, were to use the same wretched means toward Captain Dreyfus. A French officer in France must have the right to publicly defend his honor, and the government which accuses him is bound to grant him the favor of the open day. Let the government have a care. The people will not be satisfied with a minimum sentence based on presumptions, and formulated behind doors closed to stifle the affair. Somebody here is guilty. If it is not Captain Dreyfus, it is the government. And what a terrible responsibility would weigh upon the government of the republic if it were proved that, without proofs convincing to the most sceptical, it had committed the horrible crime of sullying the whole French army in accusing an officer of the most frightful of misdeeds, of having sold his country to the enemy. If Captain Dreyfus is acquitted, the minister of war becomes the traitor. Dreyfus acquitted, Mercier must be driven in shame, not only from the war department, but from the ranks of the army, for having cast suspicion upon an innocent officer.

Though perplexed today, I believe in the guilt of Dreyfus. For I cannot imagine that they would have arrested this officer, that they would have preferred such a charge against him, that they would have submitted him for months to the frightful torture of the nation’s censure, to suffer which is a hundred times worse than to be shot,—I cannot imagine that they would have so tortured this living man, unless they were absolutely certain of his guilt. So a public trial is indispensable. Acquittal in the darkness would leave Dreyfus under the stain of suspicion. It would look as if he had been acquitted through fear of a foreign power. Or it would be said that the Jews bought the consciences of the judges. An acquittal behind closed doors is not an acquittal; it is a sort of hypocritical and shameful condemnation. As for condemnation,who would dare to hope for it in the absence of those irrefutable proofs that in our day society is obliged to spread before the eyes of everybody, before mortally and materially killing one of its children. To take from a man, from a soldier, his honor and his life without saying why? Nonsense! It is impossible. Human reason forbids such a return to the darkest traditions of the secret tribunals of Spain and the Netherlands. The government of the republic renewing and aggravating the mysterious and unavowable processes of the Inquisition and of St. Vehme when the fate of a French officer is in the balance! And from pusillanimity! I repeat, it is impossible, for it would be too ignominious.

“It is impossible, and yet, gentlemen of the jury, it happened. The doors were closed, and the doubt continued. It continued even in the mind of M. Paul de Cassagnac, as I shall show you presently; you will not be astonished, then, if it continued in the minds of others.

“At first, gentlemen, this was only a preoccupation, but it became a source of anguish for some, of whom I was one, when there appeared in ‘L’Eclair,’ of September 15, 1896, an article that seemed almost official, a mixture of revelation and falsehood, which did not seem to cause even a moment’s indignation among those in whom this country places the care of right and justice. The attorney-general has spoken to you of this article, and has attempted to attribute it to Colonel Picquart. We shall see presently whether it is difficult to answer him on that point. But, first, I am going to read to you, not the whole article, for it is too long, but a part of it. And you will see at once, now that you know what Colonel Picquart’s sentiments have been since September, 1896, whether the publication of this article can be attributed either to him or to his friends. Remember the name of this newspaper, ‘L’Eclair,’ gentlemen. We shall meet it frequently. It is among those that carry on today the most violent and unjust campaign against the defenders of M. Zola. It began long ago. I read from the article in question.

A French officer is expiating in imprisonment the crime of high treason. That his expiation may be absolute, not a single conscience must grant the traitor the benefit of a doubt. But such doubt is being manifested in repeated articles, and, if some one does not intervene to say frankly and courageously that which has been hidden, it will finally create around Dreyfus a scandalous legend.

“The fact to which the attorney-general alluded in his address, the serious fact that disturbed Colonel Picquart and led him to write to General Gonse that ‘perhaps it will soon be too late for us to do justice,’—was this fact, as has just been insinuated, the article that appeared in ‘L’Eclair’ of September 5, 1896? That cannot be maintained. Thearticles that raised the doubt of which I have just spoken to you were favorable articles, articles that marked the beginning of a very legitimate campaign, which ‘L’Eclair’ answers with a tissue of lies. Let it not be said that friends of the Dreyfus family could have originated such a story. Presently I will tell you why, but the article itself demonstrates it irrefutably.

That his guilt, attested by the verdict of his peers after a trial held behind closed doors, may appear clear to those minds which are readiest to believe in the possibility of error the entire truth must be known. We have asked the government to tell it. The government does not think that it can depart from the reserve dictated to it by a diplomatic prudence. We are not bound to be equally circumspect. Convinced that the reasons which militated in favor of silence no longer exist, we are persuaded that the proof may be spread before the public.

“Note the process, gentlemen! I do not know exactly from whom the article emanated, though I shall show you that it must have had its source with the staff. Was it given out by an officer or by a subordinate? I do not know, but compare these processes. When doubts spring up, when a campaign is beginning, they strike a blow resembling that which was struck at one of these sessions. We shall return to it; we shall examine its significance. At present I simply ask: Why this resemblance? For there certainly is a resemblance between the way in which they came here to try to close our mouths by declarations that we were not permitted to discuss or to verify, and the insertion in ‘L’Eclair’ of a pretended proof, of which we shall speak again, but which no longer weighs in the balance, because it is ridiculous, as are also those which are brought forward today,—brought forward in the same manner, at a similar moment, with the same intentions.

Irrefutable proof, proof in black and white of the treason, the proof that resulted in the unanimous verdict of the council of war made up of officers who have too long suffered under the cruel suspicion cast upon them by the skilfully-sustained legend of the innocence of Dreyfus. In our opinion, it is patriotic to break with the policy of reticence, and to produce all the documents which rigorously show that the judges of the military court declared their verdict with full knowledge of the facts, and that Dreyfus, in spite of his denials, was guilty, accused by numerous moral presumptions and by formal proofs, one of which bore his name.

“It is a lie, and yet they make the declaration. I pass over very long passages, and come to the essential part of the article. They tell the story of the circumstances under which the prosecution of M. Dreyfus in 1894 was undertaken, the discovery of thebordereau, and then they come to this matter which it is indispensable that I should make known to you.

They were not slow, however, in putting their hands on a document of exceptional importance, a document which later compelled the unanimous decision of the judges. In September the militaryattachésof the German embassy addressed to their colleagues of the Italian embassy a letter in cipher.

“This is another lie. The letter was not in cipher.

This letter left the hands of its authors to pass into the hands of those for whom it was destined. But between the point of departure and the point of arrival it was prudently photographed. It was a letter in the cipher of the German embassy. About September 20 Colonel Sandherr, chief of the statistical division, communicated to General Mercier this letter, which had been deciphered. It related to the spying service of Paris, and contained this phrase: “Decidedly, that animal Dreyfus is becoming too exacting.”

“You know this document. We can speak of it. It has been referred to in an official document which has been published—the report of Major Ravary. It is the famous document that Colonel Henry and M. Gribelin claim to have seen between Colonel Picquart and M. Leblois. But it is a distorted document, and the author of this article, convinced that he would thus fix public opinion forever, did not fear to write: ‘That scoundrel Dreyfus,’ spelling the name out, when really the name Dreyfus does not appear in the document. I come to the end of the article.

As soon as the file of documents had been delivered to the military prosecuting officer, the examination began—an absolutely secret examination. Dreyfus, who had again become master of himself....

“Yes, again become master of himself, because somewhere in the article—and this is another lie—it is said that he had made confessions.

Dreyfus, who had again become master of himself, persisted throughout the trial, in spite of the overwhelming charges, in protesting his innocence. It is true that Dreyfus did not know, and perhaps does not yet know, that the minister of war was in possession of a photograph of the letter exchanged between the German and Italian militaryattachés, the only document in which his name appeared. The letter which he had written, and which he had been careful not to sign, could be only a moral element in the case.

“The reference here is to thebordereau.

In fact, though two of the experts in handwriting, Charavay and Bertillon, declared that it was Dreyfus, the three others were in doubt. But there was one proof that did not admit of doubt,—the document in which Dreyfus was named. This document could settle the opinion of the court, and it was important that the traitor should not escape his punishment. But this so serious document was essentially confidential. The minister of war could not give it up in the absence of a demand from the courts. It was necessary, then, for a search to be made in the war department itself. It took place, but, in order to save the agent of the government from having to go through so many secret files, it was so placed as to be the first to come under his hand. It was stipulated,nevertheless, that, though thus regularly seized, it should not be put in as evidence. Therefore it was communicated to the judges alone in the consultation chamber. An irrefutable proof, it settled all doubts in the minds of the members of the council. They were unanimous in their decision as to the prisoner’s guilt, and as to the punishment to be inflicted upon him.

“Such is the article, in substance. Three days after its appearance, M. Demange, counsel of Dreyfus, meeting his old friend Salle, was greeted thus:

“‘Ah! my good Demange, I am very glad to see you. I am very glad to relieve myself of a secret that is on my conscience.’

“‘What do you mean?’ said Demange.

“‘Well, since it is published, I can tell you.’

“‘Published? What? What are you talking about?’

“‘Why, the article in “L’Eclair”! what it says about the secret document is the truth. A few days after the verdict of the council of war I was dining with a few friends, among whom was one of the officers who had convicted Dreyfus. I said to him: “How is it that you were unanimous in your condemnation? How do you explain such a sentence, when Demange, whom I consider an honest man, tells me that there is nothing in the file, that there has not been a moment when he was not perfectly at ease regarding the innocence of his client, and that up to the last moment he was confident of an acquittal? How do you explain that?” “Oh!” answered the officer, “the reconciliation is easy. Demange had not seen what we have seen. If he had, he would think as we do. He would be convinced.”’

“There you have, then, what the article in ‘L’Eclair’ represented, so far as the practical fact is concerned; such is the truth that is at the bottom of it. The details are all lies, but the certain point is that, at the council of war, without the knowledge of the accused or his counsel, there was a communication of one or more secret documents, and that, on the strength of these, a verdict was arrived at which could not otherwise have been obtained. Was I right, then, in saying to you that what was at first a preoccupation became in the minds of some a source of anguish? Was such a communication possible, gentlemen? I have just told you it was only too true. At first, it seemed beyond belief, but the article was so well sustained! And, the declaration of Demange coming on top of it, doubt was no longer possible. A feeling of revolt was born in disturbed consciences. It was but a germ, yet this germ was going to grow. The anguish was on the point of changing into indignation whenfurther confirmation came in ‘Le Matin’s’ publication of thebordereau, in no way resembling the writing of Dreyfus. And the indignation changed into stupefaction upon the appearance of the indictment with which you must be familiar—I mean the d’Ormescheville report, which astonished by its puerility all people who reason and think, allsavantslike M. Duclaux, like M. Paul Meyer, like M. Grimaux, who have come here to tell you of a scientific spirit that they expected to find in such a document, and which they did not find at all.

“Since then, gentlemen, we have witnessed the daily growth of the number of men who do not believe it their duty, I do not say before the army, but before certain commanders of the army, to abdicate their liberty of judgment. These think that no institution is above the law. They are convinced that, a right having been violated, Dreyfus having been illegally convicted, he must be tried again, whether he be guilty or not,—a question which we shall discuss presently. They are convinced that, in presence of such circumstances, no one is justified in keeping silence, because it is a concern, not of an individual interest, but of civilization itself. And, if I must tell you, gentlemen, theraison d’êtreof what is called the syndicate is this. The common purpose of the syndicate, regardless of the belief that one may entertain in the innocence of Dreyfus, at which one arrives only gradually, at which you will have arrived day after tomorrow,—regardless of that, the common object of the syndicate is justice, right, the wounded ideal which we, in our turn, take in our hands, and which, in spite of all furies, is our strength and our protection. Syndicate, yes, but a syndicate of faith, a syndicate of disinterestedness, a syndicate of hope. [A voice—“For money”.] If we had paid you, perhaps you would shout in our favor.”

The Judge.—“M. Labori, do not address the public.”

M. Labori.—“Monsieur le Président, I ask your pardon, but I am obliged to be my own policeman. And that astonishes me, gentlemen of the jury, for the people who raise these protests fail in respect for you, a group of judges, you who have had your anxieties, but who feel the grandeur of your mission. But I know that, after a certain time, threats will only strengthen you in your resolution to judge with impartiality. So I resume, leaving those who murmur when I speak of hope and disinterestedness to make such manifestations as they choose.

“Try, then, to explain otherwise what this man is doinghere. What is he? I should lower him, and lower myself, and lower you also, in trying to represent him to you. He is not only a creative man of genius; he is, for those who are capable of understanding, for those who penetrate to the heart and substance of his works,—and his act of today is a sure proof of it,—he is a poet, in spite of all violences of form; and, as for his glory, it is not among these blind men that we must seek his measure, but throughout Europe. What had he to gain here? He had to gain a loss of time, a tempest of insults and outrages. Read the newspapers, and you will know what one gains by such an act. What moves him, then, if not the imperative necessity of acting in accordance with his convictions? Admirably conscious of the power of the pen and of the power of thought, he was determined, by a tremendous act, a violent act, if you will, to harmonize his conduct with the inmost conviction of his soul. That is what he wanted to do,—act.

“And action was necessary, gentlemen, on the morrow of the acquittal of Major Esterhazy. On the morrow of that singular prosecution, which ended in a verdict demanded from the tribune by the minister of war, who, proclaiming Dreyfus justly and legally condemned, was unwilling that another should be pronounced the author of thebordereau,—on the morrow of this judicial decision which fell like a second stone on the condemned man buried alive on Devil’s Island,—on the morrow of that prosecution, all who had doubted, all who had been anxious, all who had gradually arrived at certainty, all were struck with stupefaction. There had to be some one to feel enough confidence in himself, and enough authority over his fellow-citizens, to dare, in consciousness of his power, which I admire and which was not ill-founded, to proclaim loudly what many felt in secret, and to act. For it was an act, gentlemen,—that letter that burst like a terrible bomb. A revolutionary act, he called it; it was from him that the attorney-general got the word. Revolutionary, yes, in the sphere of thought. Nothing less than a revolution in this sphere was needed to recall men’s minds to common sense and truth. M. Zola has begun the revolution. It has not yet done much harm. You will finish it, gentlemen, finish it peacefully, finish it by the verdict of acquittal which I am going to ask of you, but not without first having a thorough understanding with you as to its value and significance.

“How was it received, this act of M. Emile Zola? Some, a few, saw in it a rallying-cry, and marched as at the soundof the cannon. The demoniacs, struck down by an attack so crushing, and feeling that they had no rivals in the art of insult, falsehood, and calumny, answered by deafening clamor. The majority, of good faith, but indifferent, suddenly aroused from their apathy by an act so unexpected, drew back in astonishment. Their reasoning was twofold, and I must do justice to it. They considered M. Zola’s letter too violent. They mistakenly saw in it insults to the army. Dreyfus, they say, was condemned by his peers. Esterhazy was acquitted by his. Behind all stands the staff. We can never admit that an entire staff is guilty; rather admit that Dreyfus is guilty than accept the conclusion that the others are guilty. That is their argument; they have no other. But it has another branch, which is this: There are men in the cabinet whom we can trust. They know the truth. They do not ask for a revision. Therefore the Dreyfus verdict was well rendered. Therefore Dreyfus is guilty, and was justly condemned. That is their whole case.

“They forget, gentlemen, that things do not present themselves so simply; that questions generally do not take the form of a dilemma; that Dreyfus may be innocent, and yet they who condemn him may not have been knowingly responsible and really guilty of any infamy. They do not remember that their reasoning would apply to all judicial errors, from the conviction of Jesus Christ to that of Pierre Vaux, including that of Jeanne d’Arc herself. They forget that theraison d’Etatcan be pleaded in behalf of the worst acts of government, from the massacre of St. Bartholomew to the massacre of the hostages, including the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, the reign of terror, and the legal murder of the duc d’Enghien, also committed by a military tribunal.

“This reasoning, gentlemen, is terrible; it is cruel, false, absurd. But that is not to say that with those who reason thus I am unwilling to discuss. On the contrary, I believe them of good faith, I believe them sincere; that is enough for me. I am convinced that, when they understand the real truth, they will be with us; they will join the great number of those who are coming to us daily, because they are beginning to understand a matter upon which hitherto they have passed in ignorance. And their ignorance we can easily understand, for we see how difficult, not to say how impossible, it is for us to get at even a part of the truth here in this court. So a word at first in answer to their objections. They talk of insults to the army.

“Insults to the army? But, in the first place, what is thearmy? Does it consist of a few personalities, however high they may be? Is it not the entire nation, with a considerable number of officers, all of whom, whether belonging to the staff or not, are worthy of the stripes that they have won by their courage and their loyalty? And then, at their head, a small number of permanent, experienced commanders, fallible, as all men are,—and I do not insult them in saying so,—but surely worthy of the respect of all, by reason of the lofty mission with which they are invested. How, gentlemen, could Frenchmen be lacking in respect for them, especially such a Frenchman as M. Emile Zola? Is he not one of those who owe most to the French country, just as the French country owes most to them? Is he not one of those who place the highest value on French citizenship? And is he not, therefore, one of those who must have the highest respect for the personification of France in the French army itself?

“But does respect for the army mean that everything is permissible, I do not say to the army, but to a few commanders of the army? Does it mean that they form a caste apart, which, above other citizens, as M. Méline said in the chamber on January 22, 1898, must not be submitted to the jury? I am not inventing, gentlemen of the jury; here are his words, uttered in answer to M. Paschal Grousset:

“‘I understand the significance of your interruption. You say: “You have prosecuted, but you have not prosecuted everything.’” The matter in question, you will understand, was M. Zola’s letter. ‘“You have left out of the prosecution a part of the author’s charges.” Well, yes, we did not think it our duty to submit the honor of the commanders of the army to the decision of the jury.’

“And why? Is there in this country any citizen, whosoever he may be, who is indispensable to the public welfare? No. There is not even a necessary soldier. And, if, in execution of its threat, the staff were to resign on the day after your verdict of acquittal, I am convinced that in this admirable army hands would not be lacking to take up the baton of command, and assure us the same safety from foreign attack. So no vain threats. There are no necessary individuals in this country, no men who escape the jurisdiction of the jury; and M. Méline, though he is a prudent man,—M. Méline, who has the reputation of being a moderate,—launched a bold word, which perhaps betrayed the deplorable state of his mind, when he said: ‘We will not submit the honor of the commanders of the army to a jury.’ Noone here wishes to wound anyone whomsoever. There is nothing in my words that can be offensive to loyalty. And, as for you, gentlemen, I can only repeat the admirable expression of M. Jaurès, much more exact than that of General de Boisdeffre when he said: ‘You are France.’ You are not France, but you are the legal conscience of France. M. Jaurès was right in saying so. It is an admirable phrase, because it expresses an admirable idea, and consequently everybody and all institutions in this country must be respectfully submissive to you. Was I wrong, then, in saying that one may respect the army without being obliged to abdicate his judgment before certain army commanders? In our day, under therégimewhich still is, and which may remain, arégimeof liberty, no free mind can admit that.

“And do you know why it must not be admitted, especially in this country, and at this hour when democracy has made its way? Because, if a military supremacy were to arise under these conditions, it would be the most oppressive of all, more oppressive than therégimeof the Turks or the Tartars, for in those countries, or rather among those peoples, where an absolute military power reigns, there is a responsibility,—the responsibility of the chief to his people, to history, to his dynasty, to God sometimes (in the countries of divine right), while in a country like ours, where there is no sole and personal responsibility, military dictatorship, which would be the dictatorship, not of a man, but of a bureau or a staff, would very quickly degenerate into an anonymous oligarchy, without counterpoise, without responsibility, a hundred times more cruel than any oppression ever known. And, finishing, I say, gentlemen, that there is in France, and that tomorrow there still will be in France, something more powerful, something more respectable, than the army itself,—the law.

“Did M. Zola ever intend to say anything else? Has he insulted the army? Permit me to remind you of a passage in his letter, which cannot be reread too often.

They talk to us of the honor of the army. They want us to love it, to respect it. Ah! certainly, yes, the army which would rise at the first threat, which would defend French soil; that army is the whole people, and we have for it nothing but tenderness and respect. But it is not a question of that army, whose dignity is our special desire in our need of justice. It is the sword that is in question, the master that they may give us tomorrow. And piously kiss the sword-hilt, the god? No.

“Well, the sword is the exact symbol of that political state which I have just tried to picture to you, and I havemet from the audience in this court-room, which is not, you will admit, made up by me, only manifestations of sympathy at the expression of these ideas.

“So much for the matter of insults to the army. Now for the second point. They have said to M. Zola: ‘Your letter is violent. It exceeds its purpose. To justify such language, what proofs do you offer?’

“Before answering, gentlemen, we must understand each other. As I have already said, M. Zola’s letter is an act, a resounding act, a brilliant act; but it was committed deliberately. From what everybody has known, from what everybody has seen and from what they have not seen, and also from what he knows and has been able to tell you, as well as from what he knows but has been prevented by his patriotism from telling you, he has come to a conclusion which forced itself upon his mind. And what is this conclusion? Does it fill him with a feeling of anger towards certain army commanders? No, gentlemen. That he leaves to the friends, to the actual supporters, I do not say of the army, for they insult the army, but of the staff. Listen to what ‘L’Intransigeant’ said on March 3, 1897. I quote from a letter attributed to a superior officer in active service, to ‘a person well informed,’ as they say of people to whom they wish to attribute certain infamies, to give them credit and authority. This article says:

It is monstrous to see the chief command of the army in the hands of a septuagenarian....

“The reference here is to General Saussier, and it reminds one of the opinions of Major Esterhazy.

A septuagenarian who, in peace as in war, was long ago judged at his true value,—nothing. As for Boisdeffre, stupidly tainted with a nobility which has not even the merit of being serious, he is, as you say so precisely, a loafer, an ignoramus, full of assurance, sorossardthat he has never had the courage to learn a word of German, wherefore the chief of staff of the army, in order to read the slightest note in this language, is obliged to summon an interpreter. How the Prussians must laugh at us! Moreover, thanks to these commanders,—like masters, like subordinates,—this staff is so singular that the superior officer at the head of the famous S. R. [Service de Renseignements, Service of Information]—the reference here must be to Colonel Henry—knows not a word of any foreign language. As for the generalissimo, Saussier, he was a brave captain in the old African army, who afterwards became a general and a detestable tactician, today completely foundered. From these chief commanders we may not judge of all the others,—for fortunately there are some good ones,—but we may judge of the new and terrible wasps’ nest in which we should find ourselves, in case of acoup de torchon.

“If you continue, you will find the same language and thesame expressions. Here is an unsigned article that appeared in ‘L’Intransigeant’ October 3, 1897.

Military justice, as lame as the other justice, but blinder and more crying. These crying injustices are revolting, and create revolt in the minds of the soldiers,—moreover, a legitimate revolt.

“And, on July 14, 1896, we find this, over the signature of M. Rochefort:

One embraces the military profession only in the hope of killing men, and, when one is not strong enough to kill those of the others, one exterminates his own. The grand belief of the idiots who have succeeded one another in the war department is that, if we were beaten in 1870, it is because our troops were insufficiently disciplined.

“And in the same newspaper, on September 7, 1897, I find this:

Passive obedience, ferocious egoism and brutality, those are the great principles that they try to beat into the hearts and brains of the soldiers. If the army were really a great family; if it were the school of honor, dignity, and duty; if it were the democratic institution which befits the French people,—it would be invincible, and there would be no deserters from it. But the truth is that they try to make mercenaries of our soldiers, and that the proudest, the most enlightened, the most ardent, the best among them, are those who feel the most imperative need of avoiding so odious arôle.

“And there is one more passage that I wish to read, also by M. Rochefort, which appeared on Friday, April 12, 1894.

The people regret to see that this famous military spirit succeeds in a very short time in reducing the finest minds to a state of atrophy. Recent verdicts rendered by councils of war show that there is a real national danger in leaving longer to judges so ill prepared for judicial functions the right of life and death over accused persons whose guilt they are not capable of passing upon.

“And, if, gentlemen, we open ‘La Libre Parole’ of November 5, 1894, we find this from the pen of M. Drumont:

Look at that ministry of war which ought to be the sanctuary of patriotism, and which is a place of perpetual scandal, a cloaca that cannot be compared to the Augean stables, for as yet no Hercules has tried to clean it. In such an establishment honor and truth ought to be embalmed, but, in reality, there is always something there that stinks.

“And, finally, gentlemen, I read to you a letter that appears in ‘L’Autorité’ of this morning under the title ‘Billot.’

Paris, February 20, 1898.Monsieur le Directeur:You must be distressed by all the basenesses of the present hour. But once more let your voice be heard in the name of this poor France, who defends her last honor in the hands of those who betray her. A certain man is at this moment the target of public contempt. This man is the minister of war, a sinister figure, whose personality appears at the saddest hours in our history. If the Méline cabinet associates its cause with that of the minister of war, it is irrevocably lost in the esteem of the country and the army. Not a single one of the 27,000 officers would dareto defend the minister of war. You cannot imagine the contempt that his lies and empty declarations have engendered. How guilty, then, is this government that seeks out such men, knowing what they were and what they are. Every step of this man is marked by an injustice. Regular promotion no longer exists. Of the rights consecrated by the committees of classification he takes no heed. The promotion lists are modified in the office of the minister, who inserts or erases as he sees fit.

Paris, February 20, 1898.

Monsieur le Directeur:

You must be distressed by all the basenesses of the present hour. But once more let your voice be heard in the name of this poor France, who defends her last honor in the hands of those who betray her. A certain man is at this moment the target of public contempt. This man is the minister of war, a sinister figure, whose personality appears at the saddest hours in our history. If the Méline cabinet associates its cause with that of the minister of war, it is irrevocably lost in the esteem of the country and the army. Not a single one of the 27,000 officers would dareto defend the minister of war. You cannot imagine the contempt that his lies and empty declarations have engendered. How guilty, then, is this government that seeks out such men, knowing what they were and what they are. Every step of this man is marked by an injustice. Regular promotion no longer exists. Of the rights consecrated by the committees of classification he takes no heed. The promotion lists are modified in the office of the minister, who inserts or erases as he sees fit.

“Well, gentlemen, these are the supporters of the army. These are the patriots. I point them out to you.

“Did Emile Zola ever use such language? Undoubtedly he has spoken strongly, and, if, instead of being here in this echoing trial, we were in some parlor or some office, we might ask him perhaps to soften some corners of his letter. But he wanted it to go far; he wanted it to be heard. It has been heard, as he wished; and he was right. But at bottom what was his thought? He had arrived at the conclusion that a judicial error had been committed; that this judicial error was not criminal in its origin, but grew out of the credulity of a few: that it was confirmed by the malice and the blindness of a few others, as well as by the solidarity of brothers in arms; and that it was finally sealed by a violation of law. Well, gentlemen, this being the case, it was necessary, in the first place, to fix the limits of our proofs. Even in the strangulation to which we have been subjected, we have been treated with some regard, made necessary, I fancy, by the processes of justice, for here, it seems, outside of the Zola case, there are two other cases,—the Dreyfus case and the Esterhazy case. Of the Esterhazy case we may say everything. Of the Dreyfus case we may say nothing. Why this distinction? Is it based on the thing judged? Ah! I confess, gentlemen, that, when I first asked myself the explanation of this singular restriction upon a trial which M. Zola wished to be so open, I said to myself: ‘It is very simple; we shall be permitted to say nothing. In fact, there are decrees which prohibit all attack on the thing judged, even by demonstrating that the judges are liars. So, as we have to deal here with two things judged, the Dreyfus case and the Esterhazy case, they will strangle us in silence.’ Well, they have not done it. I know not why, because, in truth, in the path upon which they have entered they had the means. But they did not dare to use them, and in this affair, as in so many others in this country, they took half-measures, partial closed doors, partial explanations, partial thing judged.

“True, gentlemen, it would not have been easy to entirely close my mouth. I should have risen just the same afterthe shorter trial, and made my argument, simply telling you what others have told you. If I had not been contradicted, it would have been necessary to extend the scope of the debate.

“Now, gentlemen, I want to sum up for you chronologically the facts in this case, to sum them up in spite of all the obstacles that have been placed in my path. And it is the object of my argument to try to show, by reasoning and by induction, in all cases where the light has not been complete, the necessary answers to the questions that I have been forbidden to ask,—answers that result inevitably from the study, or, to be more exact, from the silence, of our adversaries.”

At this point the court interrupted M. Labori, declaring an adjournment until the following day.

Resuming his argument at the point at which he had dropped it the day before, M. Labori continued as follows:

“Let us go back to the autumn of 1894. Dreyfus, who was then Captain Dreyfus, was arrested on October 14, 1894, but neither the public or his family, Mme. Dreyfus excepted, knew of his arrest. On October 29 the news leaked out in a rather indefinite way, through ‘La Libre Parole,’ and on November 1 a more exact account was given in ‘L’Eclair.’ I beg you, gentlemen, to note that the two newspapers which alone were well informed at the beginning of this case are the two newspapers that have carried on the most violent and most unjust campaign in the years that have since elapsed. ‘L’Eclair’ having given a more precise account, ‘La Libre Parole’ of November 1 published a very short article, of which I shall read to you but an extract.

“Is it true that recently a very important arrest has been made by order of the military authority? Is the individual arrested accused of spying? If the news is true, why does the military authority maintain a silence so absolute? A reply is necessary.” Such was the question that we asked on Monday, and the minister of war has carefully refrained from replying. We had been notified of the arrest on Sunday, ...

“At once we may ask by whom ‘La Libre Parole’ had been notified. I questioned General Mercier to find out to whom this indiscretion should be attributed, and whether any inquiry was made. He answered that he knew nothing about it, hinting that he attributed it to the Dreyfus family That theory cannot be accepted. The Dreyfus family knew nothing about the matter. Major du Paty de Clam, employing threats toward Mme. Dreyfus, had forbidden her tospeak; and, supposing that she had spoken, you can well imagine that she would not have carried her secrets to ‘La Libre Parole.’ Consequently, here at the beginning we find the hand of some one who is in relations both with the newspapers of which I speak and with the war offices. Who is he? Is he a superior officer or a subordinate? I do not know, but the relation is indisputable.

We had been notified of the arrest on Sunday, but, in view of the gravity of the charge, and the name and position of the guilty party, we desired to await the result of the examination. Today these reasons do not hold. Here, in fact, is what ourconfrère, “L’Eclair.” says concerning our questions: “Several newspapers have published a note of a few lines, asking if there had been an important arrest for a crime of high treason. The arrest has been kept secret. The facts, unhappily, are exact, and much more serious than the question led us to believe. An officer, not however, a superior officer, is at this moment in prison at Cherche-Midi; he has committed the most abominable crime that an officer can commit. He has betrayed his country, and for venal motives. The examination, which was conducted in secret, is finished, and the proof materially established.”

“This is an inaccuracy, perhaps a falsehood. Certainly it was the starting-point of all the stories, each more false than the other, which from that moment began to fill the columns of the newspapers, finding no contradiction and spreading error through the public opinion of the entire country. If I did not wish to save your time, gentlemen, I could read you extracts from a thousand newspapers of all parties, affirming most energetically that Dreyfus had relations with German and Italian spies which had been materially proved; that he had made suspicious journeys to Belgium or Alsace, in the course of which he was detected in the act of spying; that he broke open a vault in the war department, and took therefrom secrets of the most vital interest to the national defence; that he delivered important documents to the enemy; and that he had numerous civil accomplices.

“It must be said that the mystery which surrounded the arrest of Captain Dreyfus opened the way for all these lies, which served as a foundation for public opinion. On October 13 Dreyfus was summoned to the war department, and there invited to appear, in civil dress, on October 15. You understand why. He was to be arrested. The arrest had already been decided upon, and it was not desirable that he should be taken in uniform to Cherche-Midi between policemen. That would have aroused public opinion, and the policy of mystery had already been resolved upon.

“On the morning of October 15 Dreyfus appeared at the war department. There he was arrested by Major du Patyde Clam, after an examination which I shall refer to again hereafter. Then a search was made. Absolute silence was imposed upon Mme. Dreyfus by reference to the Iron Mask and assertions that her husband’s life depended upon it. This silence was maintained for a fortnight. Meanwhile what was happening at the prison of Cherche-Midi? I had hoped that a man who could speak to you with authority upon this point would testify here under oath; I mean Major Forzinetti. He was not allowed to testify, but, thank God! he has published in ‘Le Figaro’ over his own signature a story with which undoubtedly you are not familiar, but with which you must be made familiar, for it is nothing else than his deposition. I am going to read it to you. I am sure that he is now in this court-room. If it does not represent his thought at every point, if it is not what he would have declared under oath, he will contradict me. Here is his story:

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