“General de Pellieux undoubtedly took no account of them,” said the witness, “for neither M. Autant or myself was called before him. At that time Major Esterhazy said to M. Autant: ‘You must deny having received these letters; you must deny that I am your tenant; you must deny any acquaintance with me; and, if questioned about the letters, you must say that they are forgeries.’ M. Autant refused, saying that that was contrary to the truth. Moreover, it was childish, for there were two registered leases, and everybody in the house knew Major Esterhazy. Later the letters found their way into the hands of Major Ravary, and M. Autant and I were called before him. He was very courteous, but my testimony did not seem to please him. He asked me why the letters had been photographed. I did not know. He said that he considered it very strange that M. Autant should have given up Major Esterhazy’s letters without his consent. I found it very curious that this examining magistrate should tell a witness to ask the opinion of the accused before deciding what to do.”
M. Labori.—“Does the witness know anything concerning M. Zola’s good faith?”
M. Stock.—“To me, as to everybody, it is absolutely evident. Furthermore, I know, through the indiscretion of a member of the council of war, that not simply one secret document, but several, were communicated to that body. I can enumerate them.”
The Judge.—“No, it is useless. We have no right to say anything about the Dreyfus case.”
M. Stock.—“I can enumerate four of these documents, if you like.”
The Judge.—“We are not concerned with the Dreyfus case.”
The next witness was M. Lalance, who formerly sat in the German reichstag representing Alsace-Lorraine, as protesting deputy.
“I would like,” said the witness, “to tell the jury something about the origins of this affair. I was acquainted with the Sandherr and Dreyfus families,—that is, with the family of the accuser and the family of the accused. I have lived with them and seen them very closely. The elder Sandherr was a Protestant who became a Catholic and showed the intolerance of all neophytes. In 1870, the time of the war, bands of people said to be directed by him ran through the streets of Mulhouse, crying: ‘Down with the Prussians of the interior!’ These Prussians were the Protestants and Jews. These cries found no echo. Protestants, Jews, and Catholics all did their duty during the war and after it. When in 1874 the provinces were called upon to send deputies to Berlin, it was a Jew who nominated the bishop of Metz, and the Protestant deputies were nominated by the priests. The younger Sandherr, the colonel, whom I knew from childhood, was a good soldier and a brave and loyal citizen, but he had inherited his father’s intolerance. Furthermore, in 1893 he fell a victim to the brain disease of which he was to die three years later. In that year he was sent to Bussang to be cured. During his stay there, there was a patriotic ceremony,—the return of the flag to the regiment of light infantry. All the bathers went to see it. Near them was a Jew, undoubtedly an Alsatian, who wept with emotion. Colonel Sandherr turned to his neighbors, and said to them: ‘I distrust those tears.’ His neighbors asked him to explain, saying to him: ‘We know that there were Jewish officers in the army who were patriotic and intelligent and did their duty.’ Colonel Sandherr answered:‘I distrust them all.’ Such was the man, gentlemen of the jury, who proffered the accusation. It is legitimate to suppose that he was governed by his feelings rather than by justice. As for the Dreyfus family” ...
The Judge.—“Say nothing of Dreyfus.”
M. Lalance.—“The family,Monsieur le Président.”
The Judge.—“No, it is useless.”
M. Lalance.—“I desist, in obedience to your orders. But I thought it might be useful for the jury to know what the elder brother did.”
M. Labori then read the following letter received from M. Gabriel Séailles, professor of philosophy at the Sorbonne, who had been summoned, but was kept at home by illness.
Why did I sign the protest?A man of the study. I can bring here only the testimony of my free and sincere conscience. After the Dreyfus trial it never occurred to me for a moment to call in question the legality of the verdict. I do not wish to lessen the initiative of M. Zola, but it is not he who opened this debate. It was opened by the unknown person who transmitted to ‘Le Matin’ thefac-simileof the famousbordereau. On that day the question was submitted to public opinion; an appeal was taken to the conscience of each of us. There is no escape from the logic of events. Other things occurred, other documents have been presented to us. We have seen a bit of writing which, by the confession of its author, bears a frightful resemblance to the handwriting of thebordereau. We have witnessed a trial the conduct of which astonished us,—a trial where the witnesses were transformed into the accused. We have read an indictment which disconcerted us, because we sought in it in vain for what we expected to find there. We may be condemned to silence, but we cannot prevent ourselves from thinking. So my mind worked on the data that had been furnished, and my ideas concentrated themselves in the following dilemma: of two things one; either Dreyfus was convicted on the strength of thebordereau,—that is, without proof,—or he was convicted on secret documents not communicated to the defence,—that is, illegally. This almost involuntary conclusion fell heavily upon my heart. If the law, which is the security of all of us, and which we may have to invoke tomorrow, should be always respected, should it not be especially respected when in one individual there are thousands of individuals whom they pretend to condemn and dishonor?How was I led to sign a protest?I had just corrected a lesson in morals, the work of a student. I had said to these young people what all of you I am sure would wish me to say to them: that the human person is sacred; that justice is inviolable: that it cannot be sacrificed to passion or to interest, with whatever name they may be decorated. I had told them that justice is not a servant whom we ring for when we need its service; that it is the grand image which should hover over all conflicts of passions and interests, because it alone can be the peacemaker. I returned to my study. A student brought me a petition. I signed it. Our teaching would have no authority, if we were not ready to confirm it by our acts. I have no authority to speak in the name of the university. The painful conflict of duties that has disturbed so many consciences has divided us, but we too highly esteem one another, we hold sincere thought in too great respect, to treat each other as knaves or fools. If you have found on the lists of thoseprotesting so many names of people connected with the university, it is not because of any spirit of revolt. It is because these brave people who, should occasion arise, would hasten to defend the integrity of the national territory consider it their professional duty to maintain another integrity no less precious,—the integrity of the national conscience. But, since the name of the university has been uttered, let us have an understanding. We respect and we love the army. In that we are unanimous. We consider ourselves as workers in the same work, servants of the same cause, soldiers in the same fight. The army of France, the army of mutilated France, is force in the service of right. Never have we separated the cause of right from the cause of the army. Please God that we may soon find ourselves reconciled in the superior thought of the country, and that at last we may be spared the continuance of the painful spectacle of so many French hands withdrawing from one another, when all ought to join in a common and fraternal action. As for M. Zola’s good faith, the very experiences that he is undergoing are sufficient to attest it. He has acted in accordance with his temperament, after the fashion of a man who, shut up in a room where the air is becoming stifling, rushes to the window, and, at the risk of covering himself with blood, breaks the glass to let in a little air and light.Gabriel Séailles.
Why did I sign the protest?
A man of the study. I can bring here only the testimony of my free and sincere conscience. After the Dreyfus trial it never occurred to me for a moment to call in question the legality of the verdict. I do not wish to lessen the initiative of M. Zola, but it is not he who opened this debate. It was opened by the unknown person who transmitted to ‘Le Matin’ thefac-simileof the famousbordereau. On that day the question was submitted to public opinion; an appeal was taken to the conscience of each of us. There is no escape from the logic of events. Other things occurred, other documents have been presented to us. We have seen a bit of writing which, by the confession of its author, bears a frightful resemblance to the handwriting of thebordereau. We have witnessed a trial the conduct of which astonished us,—a trial where the witnesses were transformed into the accused. We have read an indictment which disconcerted us, because we sought in it in vain for what we expected to find there. We may be condemned to silence, but we cannot prevent ourselves from thinking. So my mind worked on the data that had been furnished, and my ideas concentrated themselves in the following dilemma: of two things one; either Dreyfus was convicted on the strength of thebordereau,—that is, without proof,—or he was convicted on secret documents not communicated to the defence,—that is, illegally. This almost involuntary conclusion fell heavily upon my heart. If the law, which is the security of all of us, and which we may have to invoke tomorrow, should be always respected, should it not be especially respected when in one individual there are thousands of individuals whom they pretend to condemn and dishonor?
How was I led to sign a protest?
I had just corrected a lesson in morals, the work of a student. I had said to these young people what all of you I am sure would wish me to say to them: that the human person is sacred; that justice is inviolable: that it cannot be sacrificed to passion or to interest, with whatever name they may be decorated. I had told them that justice is not a servant whom we ring for when we need its service; that it is the grand image which should hover over all conflicts of passions and interests, because it alone can be the peacemaker. I returned to my study. A student brought me a petition. I signed it. Our teaching would have no authority, if we were not ready to confirm it by our acts. I have no authority to speak in the name of the university. The painful conflict of duties that has disturbed so many consciences has divided us, but we too highly esteem one another, we hold sincere thought in too great respect, to treat each other as knaves or fools. If you have found on the lists of thoseprotesting so many names of people connected with the university, it is not because of any spirit of revolt. It is because these brave people who, should occasion arise, would hasten to defend the integrity of the national territory consider it their professional duty to maintain another integrity no less precious,—the integrity of the national conscience. But, since the name of the university has been uttered, let us have an understanding. We respect and we love the army. In that we are unanimous. We consider ourselves as workers in the same work, servants of the same cause, soldiers in the same fight. The army of France, the army of mutilated France, is force in the service of right. Never have we separated the cause of right from the cause of the army. Please God that we may soon find ourselves reconciled in the superior thought of the country, and that at last we may be spared the continuance of the painful spectacle of so many French hands withdrawing from one another, when all ought to join in a common and fraternal action. As for M. Zola’s good faith, the very experiences that he is undergoing are sufficient to attest it. He has acted in accordance with his temperament, after the fashion of a man who, shut up in a room where the air is becoming stifling, rushes to the window, and, at the risk of covering himself with blood, breaks the glass to let in a little air and light.
Gabriel Séailles.
The witness-stand was then taken by M. Duclaux, director of the Pasteur Institute, who testified that he signed the protest because it seemed to him that it would be a good thing for a group of men to declare to the public that the Esterhazy trial had not dissipated the obscurity of the Dreyfus trial. His testimony was followed by that of M. Anatole France, member of the French Academy, who, after explaining why he had signed the protest, was asked his opinion of M. Zola’s good faith.
M. France.—“Having spent some hours with M. Zola last December, and having been, so to speak, the witness of his thought, I can testify here to his admirable good faith and his absolute sincerity. But the sincerity of M. Zola needs no guarantee; so I will simply say that he is acting, under these circumstances, with courage, according to his temperament, in behalf of justice and truth, inspired by the most generous sentiments.”
General Billot, who had been appealed to to authorize the production of the Uhlan letter, having written to the judge that he would leave the matter to the decision of the court, the court now rendered a decree that it should not be produced, since by a previous decree all matters “relating to the Dreyfus and Esterhazy trials, judged, in whole or in part, behind closed doors, had been excluded from the debate.”
This ended the testimony, and, the attorney-general not being ready to begin his argument, an adjournment was taken until Monday, February 21.
With the opening of the session, Attorney-General Van Cassel began his summing-up.
“Gentlemen of the jury, a man well known in letters goes in search of a militant newspaper, comes to an understanding with it, and publishes an article which shows either irresponsibility or shamelessness. He declares that a council of war has rendered a verdict in obedience to orders. ‘Let them prosecute me in the assize court, if they dare.’ Well, here we are. But where are your proofs, those precise and irrefutable proofs that the council of war has rendered a verdict in obedience to orders? During the twelve sessions which you have just passed through not once has this question, the only one before us, been posited. But, though you have attempted no proof, you have shrunk from no violence. How intolerable the situation in which you have placed the generals whom you have brought to this bar! The attitude of the insulters has been on a level with the insults. You have drawn upon yourselves the eloquent reply of General de Boisdeffre, who said to you: ‘My officers are brave people. They began by submitting without reply to sustained attacks. If they have been drawn from their silence, you have only yourselves to blame,—you and the odious provocations of which you made them the object.’
“The experts in the Esterhazy case worked separately, and arrived by different methods at identical conclusions. They had the originals before them. The experts cited by the defence had examined only doubtful copies,—doubtful as to their origin, doubtful as to their authenticity. M. Paul Meyer, director of the Ecole des Chartes, who advises his pupils to study nothing but originals, should have followed his own teaching. I say nothing of the international experts that gravitate around M. Bernard Lazare, undertaker of revision. They are surrounded by too much money and too much mystery to warrant me in dwelling on their testimony. I attach the same authority to the declaration of M. Stock, who has declared here that not one, but numerous secret documents were communicated to the council of war. As M. Bernard Lazare’s publisher, he has too plain an interest in the multiplication of documents.
“Alfred Dreyfus alone was in a position to procure the documents concerning the national defence which are enumerated in thebordereau. General de Pellieux andGeneral Gonse are in a position to know more about that than anybody else. After what they have told you, it is impossible to doubt. But I shall say no more about the Dreyfus case. It would be a violation of the authority of the thing judged.
“Dreyfus belongs to a rich and powerful family, which continues to keenly feel the deep sorrow of having seen one of its members convicted of high treason. This campaign has been carefully prepared. It began in the press before ending in parliamentary incidents and judicial proceedings.
“Never has the government varied in its declarations. General Billot has always declared that Dreyfus was legally and justly condemned. The government did not obstruct the investigation. General de Pellieux’s examination was an open one, and was conducted freely. Major Ravary acted with the same independence. The judges who acquitted Major Esterhazy came to their decision in full liberty of conscience. In short, the behavior of the government demonstrates its respect for law and the dignity of justice.
“‘L’Aurore’ accuses it of being influenced by political considerations. Only this morning that newspaper had the audacity to say that France is given over to the sabre, that the republic is in danger. General Billot has already replied to it from the tribune of the chamber. ‘Who dares,’ he asked, ‘to pretend that there is a single officer in the ranks of the army who contemplates an attack on the republic? There has never been found but one, and he was forced to take refuge in suicide.’ Such is the legal attitude of the government, which I contrast with your revolutionary method. You have done nothing here but open an audacious discussion on the thing judged. But it is not permissible to relapse into judicial anarchy. The legal method of revision was open to you. Why did you not apply to the keeper of the seals?
“What do the ‘intellectual revisionists’ know of the trial of 1894, that they can pretend that it was irregular? Nothing. The public has no element of proof, so far as the Dreyfus case is concerned. All cases of spying are decided behind closed doors. Twenty-seven accused persons have appeared since 1885 before the police courts, charged with this abominable crime; four before the councils of war; one before the assize court. In every case closed doors, for reasons of a superior order, have been declared. One of the accused was acquitted.
“M. Demange was the first to render homage to theperfect honesty of the judges of Alfred Dreyfus. The accused appeared, surrounded by all desirable guarantees. He was protected by his uniform itself. Before the minister of war will consent to bring one of his officers to trial for high treason, his guilt must be perfectly clear. So I ask yourself on what grounds honorable men like M. Scheurer-Kestner and M. Trarieux can take their stand, to maintain that an irregularity has been committed. They must have the gift of double sight, which permits them to look at once into the secret documents belonging to the minister of war and into those belonging to the Dreyfus family.
“Colonel Picquart obeyed an unfortunate inspiration when he opened the doors of the war department to his friend Leblois, who had no business there, and showed him secret documents which he ought never to have read. In vain does Colonel Picquart try to dispute this illicit communication. You have heard here the respectful, but firm, denial of his testimony, given by Adjutant Gribelin, who, General Gonse tells you, is a model servant. I add that the mysterious telegrams signed ‘Speranza’ and ‘Blanche,’ addressed to Colonel Picquart at Tunis, could have come only from his own acquaintances. The same signature, ‘Speranza,’ appears in letters sent to him in 1896 and opened at the war department.
“Major Esterhazy has been the object of two judicial examinations. They have resulted in nothing. If he appeared before the council of war, it was on the formal order of General Saussier, who, although Major Esterhazy’s innocence had been recognized, was desirous of a public trial because of the notoriety that the matter had gained. Contrary to the usual practice, only a part of the trial took place behind closed doors. M. Mathieu Dreyfus was invited to produce his proofs in public. He did not produce a single one. Nor did M. Scheurer-Kestner, who also testified in public. Under these circumstances, what could the representative of the government do? Public prosecutor and accuser are not always synonymous terms. For my part, I have many times abandoned accusations that were not established. And do not claim either that the trial was one-sided. The council of war listened to persevering and convinced accusers,—Colonel Picquart and M. Leblois. The acquittal was regular, deliberate, legal, pronounced unanimously by judges belonging to different branches of the army, designated according to priority of service, and under no other obligation than that of their honesty and their conscience.
“As for Major Esterhazy, the letters published, after they were procured by indirect and censurable methods, and perhaps tampered with, created a deplorable atmosphere about him. It is not fitting that I should dwell upon that matter here, after the examination undergone at this bar by a patient mute, who broke his silence only to cry his suffering, while they tortured him with questions as if applying red-hot irons to living flesh. The victim had been judiciously chosen as a substitute for the condemned man of 1894.
“It is not true, as certain newspapers have declared, that after the acquittal Major Esterhazy was the object of a manifestation on the part of the members of the council of war. This is proved by the following letter, which General de Luxer has just addressed to General Billot.
M. le Ministre:Several newspapers have said that the members of the council of war, after the session, surrounded Major Esterhazy, shook hands with him, and congratulated him. I have the honor to report to you that no such manifestation occurred. According to the provisions of the law, the verdict was rendered in the absence of the accused, and was read to him afterward by the clerk, before the assembled guard, in the absence of the members of the council. The judges of the council of war have all told me that they did not see Major Esterhazy afterward, either in the court-room, or out of it, or in the street. Be good enough to accept, etc.General de Luxer.
M. le Ministre:
Several newspapers have said that the members of the council of war, after the session, surrounded Major Esterhazy, shook hands with him, and congratulated him. I have the honor to report to you that no such manifestation occurred. According to the provisions of the law, the verdict was rendered in the absence of the accused, and was read to him afterward by the clerk, before the assembled guard, in the absence of the members of the council. The judges of the council of war have all told me that they did not see Major Esterhazy afterward, either in the court-room, or out of it, or in the street. Be good enough to accept, etc.
General de Luxer.
“You remember, gentlemen of the jury, that an attempt was made to show that Major Esterhazy secured a false entry upon his record of service, and that General Guerrier was called by the defence to testify on this point. Now this is what happened: In 1881 Captain Esterhazy accomplished a brilliant feat, in consequence of which he was proposed as an officer of the legion of honor. His act was brought to the knowledge of the regiment by the following order: ‘The camp having been attacked by the Arabs, Captain Esterhazy, while other officers were attacking them on the flanks, attacked them in front, leading his men with a dash and a courage beyond all praise.’ Now, according to certain regulations of 1889 and 1895, this matter should be set forth in the order of the day of the regiment, and not in the order of the day of the army.
“Is not the misinterpretation of so simple a matter identical with calumny?
“As for Colonel Picquart, who endeavored to maintain here that the documents seized after the condemnation of Dreyfus are forgeries, he has been contradicted by his inferiors and by his equals, and you have heard in what terms his superior, General de Pellieux, expressed himselfregarding him. And finally he contradicted himself. The scene was so saddening that I have not the courage to dwell upon it.
“Gentlemen of the jury, the judges of the council of war are invested with a double character. They are at once magistrates and jurors. It seems to me that I see them, hesitating first, then stiffening their will in face of the duty to be done, far from all influence, solely concerned with the rendering of an honest and loyal verdict. You have the same honorable mission, gentlemen of the jury. You are to do the same justice. The prime minister has declared from the tribune of the chamber his high confidence in the twelve free citizens to whom the government has entrusted the defence of justice and of the honor of the army. The revolutionary manifestation of M. Emile Zola has met its counter-shock in the street. Persons and property are no longer respected. Violence breeds violence. But what cares ‘L’Aurore,’ which has its sensational trial? What difference does that make to M. Emile Zola? He has lifted himself to therôleof a great man, which he easily assumes. He has realized his dream. He has brought to this court-room cabinet ministers, foreign diplomats, generals. He would have summoned all Europe. It was the necessary stage-setting for the novel that he announces. ‘L’Aurore’ tells us that he has entered into glory in his lifetime. His ‘Letter to France’ is literature; it savors of the Academy. His ‘Letter to Youth’ has enjoyed a success only in Berlin, and here is a translation sent to me from Germany. For the sake of his personal vanity he has imposed upon you these twelve sessions that have made the heart of the country bleed. And beyond the frontier what lamentable echoes! They have not hesitated to attack the staff, to compromise the national defence. They have overwhelmed with outrages the obedient and silent army, in which every Frenchman sees the image of his country. They have put upon it the outrageous insult of casting suspicion on its commanders, who are endeavoring, respectful of the laws, to make it worthy of its task on the day when it shall be necessary to lead it against the enemy. No more violent insult could be offered. No more anti-patriotic campaign could be conceived. You have listened here to M. Jaurès. For my part, I value talent only in the ratio of the good that it does, not in the ratio of the ruins that it accumulates. No, it is not true that a council of war has rendered a verdict in obedience to orders. It is not true that seven officers have been found to obey any other thanthe order of their free and honest conscience. You will condemn those who have outraged them, gentlemen of the jury. France awaits your verdict with confidence.”
At the conclusion of the attorney-general’s address, M. Zola read the following declaration to the jury:
“In the chamber, at its session of January 22, M. Méline, president of the cabinet, declared, amid the frantic applause of his obliging majority, that he had confidence in the twelve citizens to whose hands he entrusted the defence of the army. It was of you, gentlemen, that he spoke. And, just as General Billot dictated his decree to the council of war which was charged with the acquittal of Major Esterhazy, uttering from the tribune for the instruction of his subordinates the military countersign of unquestionable respect for the thing judged, so M. Méline has endeavored to give you an order to sentence me in the name of respect for the army, which he accuses me of having outraged. I denounce to the conscience of honest people this pressure of public power on the justice of the country. These are abominable political practices, dishonoring to a free nation.
“We shall see, gentlemen, if you will obey. But it is not true that I am here before you by the will of M. Méline. He yielded to the necessity of prosecuting me only in great agitation, in terror of the new step that truth in its march might take. That is known to everybody. If I am before you, it is by my own will. I alone have decided that the obscure, the monstrous matter should be brought before your jurisdiction, and I alone, in the full exercise of my will, have chosen you, the highest and most direct emanation of French justice, that France at last may know all, and decide. My act had no other object, and my person is nothing; I have sacrificed it, satisfied simply to have placed in your hands, not only the honor of the army, but the endangered honor of the entire nation.
“You will pardon me, then, if your consciences have not been thoroughly enlightened. It is not my fault. It seems that I was dreaming in expecting to bring you all the proofs,—in considering you alone worthy, alone competent. They began by taking from you with the left hand what they seemed to give you with the right. They made a pretence of accepting your jurisdiction, but, though they trusted you to avenge the members of one council of war, certain other officers remained unassailable, superior even toyour justice. Understand it who can. It is absurdity in hypocrisy, and furnishes striking proof that they feared your good sense, and did not dare to run the risk of allowing us to say everything, and of allowing you to judge everything. They pretend that they desired to limit the scandal. And what do you think of this scandal, of my act, which consisted in laying the case before you, in desiring that the people, incarnate in you, should pass judgment upon it? They pretend, further, that they could not accept a disguised revision, thus confessing that they have only one fear at bottom,—that of your sovereign control. The law has in you its total representation, and it is this chosen law of the people that I have longed for, that I profoundly respect, as a good citizen, and not the equivocal procedure by which they have hoped to baffle you.
“Thus am I excused, gentlemen, for having turned you aside from your occupations without succeeding in flooding you with the total light of which I dreamed. Light, complete light, that has been my sole, my passionate desire. And this trial has just proved it to you; we have had to struggle step by step against a desire for darkness extraordinary in its obstinacy. For each shred of truth torn from the unwilling a fight has been necessary; they have disputed about everything, they have refused us everything, they have terrorized our witnesses in the hope of preventing us from proving our case. And it is for you alone that we have fought; that this proof might be submitted to you in its entirety, so that you could pass judgment without remorse and in your conscience. Therefore I am certain that you will take our efforts into consideration, and that, moreover, enough of light has been shed. You have heard the witnesses, you are going to hear my counsel, who will tell you the true story, the story that maddens everybody and that everybody knows. So I am at ease; the truth is now with you; it will do its work.
“M. Méline thought, then, to dictate your verdict in entrusting to you the honor of the army, and it is in the name of this honor of the army that I myself appeal to your justice. I deny M. Méline’s statement in the most formal manner; I have never insulted the army. On the contrary, I have expressed my tenderness, my respect, for the nation in arms, for our dear soldiers of France who would rise at the first threat, in defence of the French soil. And it is equally false that I have attacked the commanders, the generals who would lead them to victory. If certain individualsin the war offices have compromised the army by their conduct, is it an insult to the entire army to say so? Is it not, rather, the work of a good citizen to free the army from all compromise, to sound the alarm, in order that the misdeeds which have forced us to this fight may not be repeated and lead us to new defeats. However, I do not defend myself. I leave to history the judgment of my act, which was a necessary act. But I declare that they dishonor the army when they allow thegendarmesto embrace Major Esterhazy after the abominable letters that he has written. I declare that this valiant army is insulted daily by the bandits who, pretending to defend it, sully it with their base complicity, dragging in the mud everything good and great that France still has. I declare it is they who dishonor this great national army, when they mingle the cry of ‘Long live the Army!’ with the cry of ‘Death to the Jews!’ And they have cried ‘Long live Esterhazy!’ Great God! The people of St. Louis, of Bayard, of Condé, and of Hoche, the people that have won a hundred giant victories, the people of the great wars of the republic and the empire, the people whose strength, grace, and generosity have dazzled the universe, crying ‘Long live Esterhazy!’ It is a shame that only our effort in behalf of truth and justice can wipe out.
“You know the legend that has been created. Dreyfus was condemned justly and legally by seven infallible officers, whom it is impossible even to suspect of error without insulting the entire army. In an avenging torture he is expiating his abominable misdeed. And, as he is a Jew, a Jewish syndicate has been created, an international syndicate of people without a country, with hundreds of millions at their disposal for the purpose of saving the traitor at the cost of the most shameless manœuvres. Then this syndicate began to heap up crimes, buying consciences, throwing France into a murderous tumult, determined to sell her to the enemy, to set Europe on fire with a general war, rather than abandon this frightful design. It is very simple, even puerile and imbecile, as you see. But it is upon this poisoned bread that an unclean press has been feeding our people for months, and we should not be astonished at the spectacle of a disastrous crisis, for, when stupidity and lies are sown at such a rate, a crop of madness is sure to be harvested.
“Certainly, gentlemen, I do not offer you the insult of believing that you have been caught by this nursery tale. Iknow you. I know who you are. You are the heart and reason of Paris, of my great Paris, where I was born, which I love with an infinite tenderness, which I have been studying and singing for forty years. And I know too now what is going on in your brains, for, before sitting here as an accused, I sat in the seats which you occupy. You represent average opinion; you aim to be wisdom and justiceen masse. Presently I shall be with you in thought in your deliberations in the jury-room, and I am convinced that you will endeavor to guard your interests as citizens, which naturally are, according to you, the interests of the whole nation. You may be mistaken, but your purpose will be to insure your own welfare and the welfare of all.
“I see you at your homes, at night, under the lamp; I hear you talking with your friends; I accompany you to your shops and stores. You are all workers, some merchants, others manufacturers, and a few professional men. And you are filled with a perfectly legitimate anxiety concerning the deplorable state into which business has fallen. Everywhere the existing crisis threatens to become a disaster, receipts are falling off, transactions are becoming more and more difficult. So that the thought that you have brought here, the thought that I read on your faces, is that there has been enough of this, and that it must come to an end. You do not say, as many do: ‘What difference does it make to us whether an innocent man is on Devil’s Island? Is the interest of an individual sufficient to warrant the agitation of a great country?’ But you do say, nevertheless, that the agitation which we are carrying on, in our hunger for truth and justice, is paid for too dearly by all the evil that they accuse us of doing. And, if you convict me, gentlemen, the sole foundation of your verdict will be the desire to quiet your families, the need of a resumption of business, the belief that, in striking me, you will put an end to a campaign of vindication that is harmful to the interests of France.
“Well, gentlemen, you would be utterly mistaken. Do me the honor to believe that I am not defending here my liberty. In striking me, you will only add to my stature. Whoever suffers for truth and justice becomes august and sacred. Look at me, gentlemen. Have I the appearance of one who has sold himself? Do I look like a liar and a traitor? Why, then, should I act as I do? I have behind me neither political ambition or sectarian passions. I am a free writer, who has given his life to toil, who tomorrowwill again take his place in the ranks, and will resume his interrupted task. And how stupid are they who call me an Italian! I who was born of a French mother, brought up by Beauce grandparents, peasants in that robust region; I who lost my father at the age of seven, and never went to Italy until I was fifty-four, and then only to get material for a book. Which does not prevent me from being very proud that my father was of Venice, that resplendent city whose ancient glory sings in all memories. And, even if I were not French, would not the forty volumes in the French language which I have scattered by millions throughout the entire world suffice to make me a Frenchman, useful to the glory of France?
“So I do not defend myself. But what an error would be yours, if you were convinced that, in striking me, you would re-establish order in our unhappy country. Do you not understand that that of which the nation is dying is the darkness in which they are bent upon leaving her, the equivocations in which she is agonizing? The mistakes of our governors are piled up on mistakes; one lie necessitates another, so that the mass becomes frightful. A judicial error has been committed, and then to hide it it has been necessary to commit each day a new attack on good sense and equity. The conviction of an innocent man has involved the acquittal of a guilty man; and now today you are asked to convict me in my turn, because I have cried out in my anguish at the sight of the progress of the country in this frightful path. Convict me, then. It will be one error more added to the others, an error the burden of which you will bear in history. And my conviction, instead of bringing about the peace that you desire, and that we all desire, will only sow the seed of a new crop of passion and disorder. The measure is full, I tell you; do not make it overflow.
“Why do you not exactly estimate the terrible crisis through which the country is passing? They say that we are the authors of the scandal, that it is the lovers of truth and justice who are leading the nation astray and urging it to riot. Really, this is mockery. To speak only of General Billot, was he not warned eighteen months ago? Did not Colonel Picquart insist that he should take in hand the matter of revision, if he did not wish the storm to burst and overturn everything? Did not M. Scheurer-Kestner, with tears in his eyes, beg him to think of France, and save her such a catastrophe? No, no! our desire has been to facilitate everything, to allay everything, and, if the country isnow in trouble, the responsibility lies with power, which, to cover the guilty, and in the furtherance of political interests, has denied everything, hoping to be strong enough to prevent the light from being shed. It has manœuvred in the shadow in behalf of darkness, and it alone is responsible for the present distraction of consciences.
“The Dreyfus case, ah! gentlemen, that has become a very small matter now. It is lost and far away, in view of the terrifying questions to which it has given rise. There is no longer any Dreyfus case. The question now is whether France is still the France of the rights of man, the France that gave liberty to the world, and that ought to give it justice. Are we still the most noble, the most fraternal, the most generous nation? Shall we preserve our reputation in Europe for equity and humanity? Are not all the victories that we have won called in question? Open your eyes, and understand that, to be in such confusion, the French soul must have been stirred to its depths in face of a terrible danger. A nation cannot be thus upset without imperiling its moral existence. This is an exceptionally serious hour; the safety of the nation is at stake.
“And, when you shall have understood that, gentlemen, you will feel that but one remedy is possible,—to tell the truth, to do justice. Anything that keeps back the light, anything that adds darkness to darkness, will only prolong and aggravate the crisis. Therôleof good citizens, of those who feel it to be imperatively necessary to put an end to this matter, is to demand broad daylight. There are already many of them who think so. The men of literature, philosophy, and science are rising on every hand, in the name of intelligence and reason. And I do not speak of the foreigner, of the shudder that has run through all Europe. Yet the foreigner is not necessarily the enemy. Let us not speak of the nations that may be our adversaries tomorrow. But great Russia, our ally; little and generous Holland; all the sympathetic nations of the north; those countries of the French language, Switzerland and Belgium,—why are their hearts so heavy, so overflowing with fraternal suffering? Do you dream, then, of an isolated France? Do you prefer, when you pass the frontier, not to meet the approving smile upon your legendary fame for equity and humanity?
“Alas! gentlemen, like so many others, you perhaps expect the thunderbolt, the descent from heaven of the proof of the innocence of Dreyfus. Truth does not generally come in that way. It requires research and intelligence. We knowvery well where the truth is, where it could be found. But we dream of that only in the secrecy of our souls, and we feel patriotic anguish lest we expose ourselves to the danger of having this proof some day flung in our face after having involved the honor of the army in a lie. I wish also to declare squarely that, though, in the official notice of our list of witnesses, we included certain ambassadors, we had formally decided in advance not to summon them. Our audacity has provoked smiles. But I do not think that there was any smiling in our foreign office, for there they must have understood. We simply intended to say to those who know the whole truth that we also know it. This truth is bandied about at the embassies; tomorrow it will be known to all, and, if it is now impossible for us to seek it where it is protected by formalities that cannot be overstepped, the government which is not ignorant, the government which is convinced, as we are, of the innocence of Dreyfus, will be able, when it likes, and without risk, to find witnesses who will make everything clear.
“Dreyfus is innocent; I swear it. I stake my life upon it; I stake my honor upon it. At this solemn hour, before this tribunal that represents human justice, before you, gentlemen of the jury, who are the emanation of the nation, before all France, before the entire world, I swear that Dreyfus is innocent. And by my forty years of toil, and by the authority that this labor has given me, I swear that Dreyfus is innocent. Let it all fall to the ground, let my works perish, if Dreyfus is not innocent. He is innocent.
“Everything seems to be against me,—the two chambers, the civil power, the military power, the journals of large circulation, the public opinion that they have poisoned. And with me there is but an idea, an ideal of truth and justice. And I am perfectly at ease; I shall triumph.
“I did not wish my country to remain in falsehood and injustice. Here I may be condemned; but some day France will thank me for having helped to save her honor.”
M. Zola was followed by his counsel, M. Labori, who summed up his case with the following elaborate argument:
“Gentlemen of the jury, though this trial has already lasted more than two weeks, I have still to call upon you for a last, and perhaps, alas! a long, effort. I feel that you appreciate, and perhaps better than ever after the words that have just been spoken, the grandeur of this trial, andthat you will forgive me for counting on your devotion as citizens and on your kindly and impartial attention as judges. I do not think that there was ever an affair that more deeply stirred the public conscience. None has caused more clamor, the excuse of which, in the case of many, is that they who utter it know not what they do. None has given rise to more decided courage and conviction. Between the determination of some and the outcry of others the mass of the people, insufficiently enlightened, but of good faith (and it is on this good faith that I rely), still hesitates in uncertainty before the unchained passions, on the one hand, which uselessly invoke, though neither is involved, the honor of the army and the safety of the country, and, on the other, before all that France possesses of independence and elevation of mind. It suffices, gentlemen, to take at hazard from the list the names of those whose thought accompanies the great citizen here before you,—Anatole France, Duclaux, Gabriel Monod, Michel Bréal, Jean Psichari, Réville, Frédéric Passy, de Pressensé, Havet, Séailles, and that admirable Grimaux whom the army cannot deny. For years he has been the teacher of a great number of its most brilliant officers. But M. Grimaux, in spite of all threats, came here to proclaim, with an eloquence that moved us all, his conviction that we are in the path of truth, justice, and right.
“Ah! gentlemen, between these two parties, not equal yet in numbers, I know in which direction this great people would lean, if the public powers, misled by their temporary interest, sustained by those who were yesterday, who will be tomorrow, who are even today, their worst adversaries, did not disconcert the country by their attitude and unproved declarations. Everybody says everywhere that there are three hundred deputies in the chamber, and one hundred and fifty or two hundred senators in the senate, who consider revision a necessary thing, but will not say so until after the elections. But it is not enough, gentlemen, that our governors, who ought to be the nation’s guides, separate themselves from this phalanx of chosen men, some of whom I have just named. It is necessary also that these chosen men, every day and twice a day, should be insulted and defamed, I do not say only by the newspapers that make a trade of calumny, but even by those organs of public opinion from which we are accustomed to expect a little more moderation and a little more justice.
“The insult that is thrown in their face may be summedup in one word: they are members of that syndicate formed to sustain the Jews and ruin the country. Syndicate! an ingenious word, an invention of talented pamphleteers,—whose excuse is that at bottom they are too often children through the very puerility of their credulity. An ingenious word, but an infamous word for those who launch it, hoping that it will make its way. And, gentlemen, has it not made its way, when we see it approved here by the attorney-general? An infamous word for those, a childish word for those others who believe that such things are possible. Oh! if they simply mean that a family will spend all that it possesses, will sacrifice not the immense fortune which has been spoken of, but its abundant ease, to save the man whom it knows to be innocent, and if they mean that some friends will help them, I say quite frankly that I see nothing in that which is not respectable. But, if they mean that M. Zola has sold himself, I say as frankly: it is a lie, or, rather, it is childishness. Sold? Let them say it; it is a matter of indifference to him. If he defends himself, if those who assist him defend him and themselves with him, it is in the interest of the cause that they represent. No, gentlemen, there are no money syndicates that can produce movements like those which you have witnessed, or powers of resistance such as those which we endeavor to display. It is not money that brings here citizens like Scheurer-Kestner, Trarieux, Jaurès; politicians—I take them from all parties—like Charles Longuet and—I say it, though I raise a protest in the court-room—like Joseph Reinach himself, whom we should not be afraid to mention here in praise of his perseverance and the dignity of his attitude; artists like Clairin, Eugène Carrière, Claude Monet, Bruneau, Desmoulins, who accompany M. Zola to this court every day, in spite of the threats with which he is surrounded; and publicists like Quillard, Ajalbert, Victor Bérard, Lucien Victor-Meunier, Ranc, Sigismond Lacroix, Yves Guyot, and Séverine, who said to us: ‘Do not call me as a witness; proclaim loudly what I think; I serve you better where I am.’ She is right, for do you know what she assures us with her articles in ‘La Fronde’? The support of a cohort of French women, who are with us, and will remain with us, and who instil at the fireside the ideas that we have scattered through the country.
“Well, gentlemen, all those whom I have enumerated, all those whom I forget, we must thank and salute, not in the name of M. Zola,—for his personality, however eminent itmay be, disappears from the case,—but in the name of something higher, for they will be entitled some day to the country’s gratitude. And do you know why? Because in a moment when it required some courage these men placed truth and right above everything. Belonging, most of them, to the educational world,—and it is to the honor of the French university,—they understood that, teaching the eternal ideal, they had no right, in the hour of danger, to pursue a line of conduct not in harmony with their teachings. Defending liberty and the eternal rules of justice, they were bound to practise both.
“The truth is, whatever may be said, that the verdict against Dreyfus in 1894 has never ceased to weigh upon the public conscience. I do not mean by that that the majority of citizens suspect the legitimacy of the sentence. How could I say it, when I very well know that at the present hour the majority is against us, or seems to be, for many timid consciences are silenced by the uproar which is mistaken for an expression of the general sentiment. But I grant that at present the majority is still against us.
“Many, nevertheless, have been disturbed, disturbed from the very first by the darkness of the prosecution, by the moving scene of the degradation, by the persistence of the condemned man in proclaiming his innocence. When the verdict was rendered, the majority, knowing nothing, were moved for a moment by the obscurities in which the case was wrapped. But their emotion was soon smothered in the floods of lies that were poured forth, and all rested in the confidence that the verdict necessarily inspired.
“I find no better proof of this than an article furnished me this morning by ‘L’Intransigeant.’ The article is from the pen of M. Clemenceau. It was hoped to embarrass him by showing that in December, 1894, or in January, 1895, he was one of those who showed the greatest irritation against the man whom they called the traitor. I fancy that it gives him no embarrassment; for my part, I note only this,—that, like many people then, like many people even today, he believed in the justice and the legality of the verdict rendered, and that his contrary opinion of today has for me, and should have for you, only the greater value. But, if the majority doubted, some who had approached this family which they despise when they are not acquainted with it, and which they respect when they approach it,—some who had approached this family, or its counsel who has never wavered in his conviction of his client’s innocence, harboreda doubt, yes, cherished a hope. And, in uttering this word hope, do you know under what authority I place myself? Under the authority of a man who for many days has spared us neither accusations or insults, but whom I regard as an honest man. I mean M. Paul de Cassagnac, director of ‘L’Autorité.’
“Hear, gentlemen, what he says, and in admirable language. For my part, I cannot believe that a man who writes thus is really an enemy of truth and justice. Hear what he said of the sadness which must have invaded all French hearts on the day after the conviction of Dreyfus.