Chapter L: Dreyfus (12)

“It is in a counterfeited handwriting, a note not authenticated in any way, the card being a puerile device for lending an appearance of truth to the note. But, gentlemen, I ask you: Is it likely, is it possible, that two military _attachés_ would feel any necessity of recommending to each other the policy of silence concerning this matter? Why? Who is going to question them? To whom must they render accounts? Have not their governments known the whole truth about this matter ever since 1894? _A propos_ of what do they thus write in 1896? And why add to this anonymous note a card, and an authentic card, upon which an insignificant _rendezvous_ is made? It was not difficult to procure such a card. You can pick up the card of a military _attaché_--or of an ambassador, for that matter--anywhere. Would it not have been an easy matter for a police spy to procure it? Among the police spies there are sometimes sharpers. Policemen, you know, are not the finest flower of humanity. I refer, not to their chiefs, but to the subordinates who necessarily make a trade of treason. Do you not suppose that, when a public trouble like this comes up, they are too glad to find an opportunity of making money out of anybody? There are police spies--and, if the department of foreign affairs wants more complete information, I will furnish it,--there are police spies who imitate, who forge, the handwriting of military _attachés_. What has the forger done? He has placed upon the card of the military _attaché_ the false signature ‘Claude,’ and then, imitating the writing or not imitating it, he has affixed the name ‘Claude’ to the anonymous paper. That, gentlemen, is the whole swindle.

“Is it likely that military _attachés_ would write on such a question, after the famous history of the _bordereau_, which is said to have been found in a waste-basket in 1894? Whether it was so found or not, it was a warning to military _attachés_.

“And at what moment is this said to have been written? In November, 1896, on the return from the grand manœuvres which they attended,--a time, when, as the entire diplomatic world knows, the three military _attachés_ of the Triple Alliance were seeing one another every day, to come to a common agreement upon the reports to be sent by each to his government.

“Was not Colonel Picquart,--from whom I do not get these facts--was not Colonel Picquart justified, then, in saying at this bar, not that his superiors had committed a forgery, not that they had dishonestly made use of a forgery, but that the document to which they appealed in good faith is a forgery?

“If these documents had had any value, do you believe that Colonel Picquart would have been sent on a mission in November, 1896? Do you believe that the minister of war and the president of the cabinet would have been silent regarding them, when the country was so profoundly stirred? If they had done so, gentlemen, and if the document was a serious one, they would have been the greatest of wretches. They would have allowed the anguish to continue, when they might have put a stop to it. They did not do so, because the document was not serious; because, shrewd political men as they are, accustomed to deal with forgeries and intrigues, they gauged its significance at once. This brave General de Pellieux has acted in good faith in the matter, but he was mistaken.

“The attorney-general forces us to plead here, in order to secure our acquittal, that the verdict of the council of war was rendered in obedience to orders. I will come to that. But right here let me ask what General de Pellieux and General de Boisdeffre, with the countenance of the court, and with the best faith in the world, have asked of you here, if not a verdict in obedience to orders? What was their mission in this court, if not to repeat the _coup_ of the secret document? I use the familiar word, because there is none that better expresses my thought.

“And now, gentlemen, that the ground is cleared, let us come back to the basis of the accusation, the _bordereau_, the letter of 1894. In the first place, I must point out that the charge was incomplete, because the origin of the document was not established. You have heard all the experts say that expert examination in handwriting signifies nothing in itself; it is to be considered only in connection with the full knowledge of the facts in a given case. Well, gentlemen, what is more important in a trial of this character than to know the source of such a paper as the _bordereau_, to know where it was seized? Is not such knowledge indispensable, in order to enable the accused to establish, perhaps, that the _bordereau_, seized where it was, could not have emanated from him, because he had been in no sort of relations with the persons on whose premises it was found, and in no way connected with the place where it was found? A man is not to be confronted with a document, unless it be said to him: ‘This document comes from such a spot; it was addressed to such a person, with whom you are in relations.’ Otherwise, a terrible blunder may be committed, as all the experts have told you. Now listen to the report of Major d’Ormescheville.

The basis of the accusation against Captain Dreyfus is a letter-missive written on onion-skin paper, not signed or dated, which is in the file, and which establishes the fact that confidential military documents have been delivered to an agent of a foreign power. General Gonse, sub-chief of general staff, into whose hands this letter came, delivered it on October 15 last to Major du Paty de Clam, delegated October 14, 1894, by the minister of war, as a judicial officer of police to conduct an examination concerning Captain Dreyfus. General Gonse declared to the aforesaid judicial officer of police that the letter had been addressed to a foreign power, and that it had reached his hands, but that, by the formal orders of the minister of war, ...

“Remember that this minister of war was General Mercier.

But that, by the formal orders of the minister of war, he was prevented from saying by what means the document had come into his possession.

“I know what the answer will be. It will be the eternal pretext of national security. But how was that concerned in view of the fact that the doors were closed? I say to the audacious apostles of the _raison d’Etat_, which might have had its justification under Louis XIV or under Napoleon, but which has no justification today,--I answer to these archaic apostles of an idea henceforth destroyed: If you invoke the _raison d’Etat_, invoke it to the end, but do not try people. If, General Mercier, you were sure of the guilt of the traitor, and if you felt sufficient firmness of heart to assume the responsibility of prosecution under conditions so lamentable, it was not even necessary to carry out the prosecution. You should have struck this man on your own responsibility, ruined him definitively, plunged him into I know not what abyss or what dungeon, that he might never more have been heard of; but you should not have given us the spectacle of a lamentable and audacious judicial comedy.

“But let us go on, gentlemen. The question, here, then, is one of writing, pure and simple; that is the charge. Since then, a fact of great importance has come to light; writing identical with that of the _bordereau_ has been discovered. We will not ask at this moment in whose hand this document has been written? The very subtle distinction of the experts has not escaped you. The writing of a document may be the writing of a certain person, and yet the document may not be of this person’s hand, because it may be forged or traced. There may be room for discussion as to whether the _bordereau_ was forged, as to whether it was traced, but there is no room for discussion as to the identity of handwritings, and the proof is that Major Esterhazy admitted it from the first day, even before he was denounced. And it is an interesting fact in this case that, on the eve of every new development, from whatever direction, Major Esterhazy foretold it, and, even before the documents were published, he announced a plot woven by a certain Colonel X or Y, which was intended to ruin him, and in the course of which would be produced a writing frightfully like his own. Then, gentlemen, there is no doubt. I do not say that the _bordereau_ is of the hand of Major Esterhazy. I will come to that later. I say the writing of the _bordereau_, is the writing of Major Esterhazy. Well, confining myself to that for the moment, there is a contradiction between this and the conclusions of the experts in 1894. We know very well that, if the _bordereau_ is in a handwriting identical with that of Major Esterhazy, it is not the writing of Dreyfus. The hypothesis of a tracing by Dreyfus is inadmissible. If Dreyfus has imitated any handwriting, it is, M. Bertillon tells us, his own. Never has it been supposed that he imitated Major Esterhazy’s handwriting, and, if he had done so, it would have been with some design. And then, being accused, he would have denounced Major Esterhazy, or made it known, by some more or less ingenious method, that the writing was that of Major Esterhazy. Gentlemen, I am going now to make a remark which, so far as I know, has not been made before, and which seems to me to be of considerable interest. I read first from the report of the examination of 1894.

Every interrogatory to which the accused was submitted before the judicial officer of police is full of the persistent denials and protests of Captain Dreyfus regarding the crime charged. At first Captain Dreyfus said that he seemed to recognize vaguely in the incriminated document the writing of an officer employed in the staff offices. Later he withdrew this allegation, which, moreover, was bound to fall of itself, in view of the complete dissimilarity between the writing of the officer mentioned and that of the incriminated document.

“Consequently you see that it occurred to Dreyfus, crushed under the weight of this undecipherable enigma, to say: ‘The _bordereau_ is not my work, but the writing resembles certain other handwritings.’ He designated some one. This some one was not the author of the _bordereau_. He did not designate Major Esterhazy. Now, if he had traced the handwriting of Major Esterhazy, he would have attributed to Major Esterhazy the authorship of the document. But he said nothing of the kind. Consequently, whatever may be the truth as to the hand that traced the _bordereau_, and as to the circumstances under which it was traced, one thing is certain,--that, given the handwriting of Major Esterhazy, the _bordereau_ cannot be in the handwriting of Dreyfus, and that it could not have been traced by Dreyfus, since it has never been pretended that Dreyfus traced any handwriting but his own. So, concerning the _bordereau_, I am perfectly easy. Whatever its source, it did not come from Dreyfus.

“The council of war of 1894, which was not acquainted with Major Esterhazy’s handwriting, and to which it had not been submitted, did not have before it those elements of information that we have today. It had nothing before it but a simple question of handwriting; and you understand what I mean by those words, since I have shown you that they knew nothing of the _bordereau_,--that its origin had not been revealed to the judges. Well, never would any court have condemned a man on this handwriting alone.

“I have among my documents some very interesting and curious ones. First, a treatise on handwriting by M. Bertillon. It had been my intention, before I realized that my argument would assume such proportions, to read you the whole of this treatise, but, desiring to spare your time, I will read only the beginning.

When our criminologists are questioned regarding the way in which expert testimony is generally conducted in France, they either avoid the question, or take refuge in generalities. If you only knew, they say, how unimportant the matter is, and how little belief we have in the pretended science of the handwriting experts. This scepticism, however, does not prevent them from obeying the instructions of the law to take and follow the advice of appointed experts. Among the members of the bar this insufficiency of belief becomes atheism, and there is no end to the jokes and legends which you will hear at the Palace regarding the handwriting experts, who, if we may believe the lawyers, know less about their specialty than the first-comer. Let us add, moreover, that with the exception of the recent aid supplied by photography and the microscope, the art of the expert does not seem to have taken a forward step since Raveneau, the expert of the time of Louis XIV. Consequently it is not astonishing if public opinion, in spite of its proneness to allow itself to be imposed upon by specialists of all sorts, shares the incredulity concerning handwriting which has been consecrated by centuries.

And yet the comparison of handwritings, considered as one of the elements of proof by writing,--first of proofs according to the code,--cannot be systematically set aside. Expert examination of handwriting is a decisive weapon in the hands of the defence, where the presumption of innocence carries with it the right of acquittal, but, in the hands of the prosecution, where nothing less than certainty will suffice, it constitutes only an indispensable precaution, one of those numerous verifications to which every thesis must be submitted.

“I should like, gentlemen, to read the whole article. It appeared in ‘La Revue Scientifique’ of December 18, 1897, and I assure you that it had seemed to me of great value from the standpoint of my discussion, before I had witnessed these confrontations of experts, which, as a living picture, are more powerful than any reading. I had brought also an article by M. des Houx,--I have told you that I would borrow weapons only from our enemies,--an article entitled ‘The Graphologists,’ which is often read in the assize court, and which sums up in a delightfully humorous way some of the characteristics of the experts. This article, too, I should have liked to read you in full, but let this amusing bit suffice.

Once an expert was discussing before the presiding judge Bérard des Glasjeux the similarity in writing between an anonymous document and other documents introduced for comparison.

“The writing of the anonymous documents,” said he, “in no way resembles that of the other documents, but in one corner of the paper there is a marginal note in pencil. This is clearly in the hand of the accused. There is no doubt about it.”

“Then,” said the judge, “I am the forger. I am the author of the marginal note.”

The Attorney-General.--“What expert was it who said that?”

M. Labori.--“_Mon Dieu_, Monsieur Attorney-General, his name is not given. But the anecdote is famous. My _confrère_, M. Hild, who had a case here some time ago, cited it as a classic, and I add that it was welcomed as a classic by the honorable organ of the public ministry.”

The Attorney-General.--“It was one of yours. Then keep him.”

M. Labori.--“One of ours? Let us say, then, that one expert is as good as another; that is all I ask. For my part, I have no need for any of these experts, and I assure you that, in a trial of this character, it is always a joy to provoke any remark whatever from an adversary, especially when it is his habit to be as sparing of his words as you are.

“To continue, gentlemen. I say, then, that, having nothing but this writing to go upon, conviction was impossible, especially as there were two of the five experts who did not attribute the writing to Dreyfus; and I may add that the first expert consulted, who was no other than he who is considered of the highest authority in his science, M. Gobert, expert of the Bank of France, declared, when the _bordereau_ was submitted to him, that it was not in the handwriting of Dreyfus, whereupon the accusers, instead of seeking another traitor, sought another expert, and found him.

“Then, things presenting themselves as they did, acquittal was about to follow, because the members of the council of war, though susceptible of being influenced by the words of a superior, could not, as honest men, convict upon such evidence. Then, gentlemen, there intervened this fact, of which we have already spoken, but which now must be recalled and stated more precisely,--this fact which in itself alone would justify any wrath in a good citizen and the revolt of any conscience,--the fact that, outside of the trial, without the knowledge of the accused or his counsel, and by a violation of one of the most elementary and sacred rules, a document, or documents, as you please, was placed under the eyes of the members of the council. Supposing that they were not so placed,--though they were, as I shall show you,--even had a man’s word guaranteed the existence of such documents before the president of the council of war, who is bound to believe the words of his superior,--even such a declaration would have been enough to secure a conviction illegally and irregularly.

“But the documents were communicated, gentlemen. The fact is established. Let us summarize the proofs.

“In the first place, there is the article that appeared in ‘L’Eclair’ September 15, 1896, which was reproduced everywhere and never contradicted. Then there was a pamphlet spread by thousands of copies, written by Bernard Lazare, in answer to the article, and this pamphlet also has never been contradicted. Several times, and especially on January 9, 1897, ‘L’Echo de Paris’ has spoken, not only of a secret document, but of a secret file of documents, concerning which it has given details, saying that it was called the B file, in contrast to the A file, or judicial file. Then there is the Ravary report, in which this passage occurs:

One evening, when Lieutenant-Colonel Henry, on returning to Paris, suddenly entered M. Picquart’s office, he found M. Leblois, the lawyer, who paid the colonel long and frequent visits, sitting near the desk and searching with him the secret file. A photograph bearing the words ‘That scoundrel D----’ had been taken from the file and spread upon the desk.

“The existence is official, and you understand, gentlemen, that its simple existence suffices, for the whole country is opposed to any discussion of this matter. Why? For no other reason than this,--that it has been told that there is a secret file. It has been told only that, and that has sufficed to close all mouths, eyes, and ears, so that nobody wishes to see or hear anything. Consequently, from the simple fact that the secret file is thus publicly confessed, it weighs on the consciences of the judges of 1894, it has weighed on the consciences of the judges of 1898, and here again, be it said in passing, is what we may call a verdict rendered in obedience to orders.

“But this is not enough, gentlemen. ‘Le Siècle,’ of January 14, 1898, published on its first page a very long article, with all possible developments, as to the existence of the secret document. The article has not been contradicted. Better still, there has been an interpellation in the chamber. M. Jaurès, on January 24, 1898, quoted the passage that I have just read from the Ravary report, and then commented upon it as follows:

Well, gentlemen, when such a doubt is raised, when such a question is put before the public conscience, I find it unworthy of all, to whatever party we may belong, unworthy of France herself, that this question should not be met by an explicit and decisive declaration. I ask the government: Yes or no, were the members of the council of war that passed upon the Dreyfus case confronted with documents tending to establish or confirm the guilt of the accused, which had not been communicated to the accused and his counsel?

“Now listen, gentlemen, to the reply of M. Jules Méline, president of the cabinet.

I answer you that we are unwilling to discuss this matter from the tribune, and that I am unwilling to serve your designs.

“Then, a few moments later, M. Méline added:

Only one word, gentlemen, to say that I have already answered those points in the remarks of M. Jaurès upon which it is permissible for the government to make answer. I refuse to follow him upon the ground where he has just placed himself, because the government, I repeat, has no right to discuss from the tribune a regularly-rendered verdict.

“Is that, gentlemen, the answer of a government careful of the public interest, having no mysterious infamy to conceal? ‘Refuse to discuss the case from the tribune,’ when, to quiet the anxiety of all, and perhaps to close my mouth and prevent me from standing at this bar, it would have been enough to say: ‘No, no secret documents were communicated.’

“I go farther, and declare that the president of the cabinet was bound to say this. He said, in the closing lines of his answer, that the verdict had been regularly rendered. Well, it is not true. It had not been regularly rendered. It had not been, because there had been a communication of secret documents. The president of the cabinet, as an honest man after his own fashion, was incapable of so violating the truth as to say that no such communication had been made.

“Then, gentlemen, we have the testimony of a man respected by all, M. Salle, who has appeared at this bar, and whose eloquent silence has been completed by the declarations of M. Demange. We have the interview of M. Demange in ‘Le Matin,’ which he has confirmed in this court. And we have, finally, and above all, the answer, or the silence, as you prefer, of General Mercier. The truth is that General Mercier, interpret his act as you please, is incapable, as a loyal soldier and an honest man, of dodging a responsibility by a lie. In doing what he has done,--and I frankly reprove his conduct,--he did what he thought he had a right to do, and even today I have no fear that he will retract or contradict. But it is well understood that the proof is complete, that the secret document was communicated. Then, gentlemen, we may ask ourselves what mean all the declarations of the president of the cabinet, of the minister of war, of the generals, and of the council of war of 1898, that Dreyfus was legally and justly convicted? I have tried to prove to you that it is not exact to say that he was justly convicted. As for the statement that he was legally convicted, it is a lie.

“And all this, gentlemen, is the work of General Mercier, for he takes everything upon himself. He has such confidence in his light that, fearing an acquittal when the council of war was about to begin its deliberations, he intervened with his personal authority, with his word and his documents,--at the very least with his word,--and thus he tore from the council the verdict which he may believe to be just, but which is none the less illegal, and consequently iniquitous. Is this, then, justice? And remember that the matter is especially serious, in view of the fact that the court was a military one. When declarations of the same sort are made here, I am not disturbed, because you are independent men. But reflect, then, what the word of a minister of war must mean to military judges, whatever their good faith. The superior pledges his word, and they take it. But what an abyss of iniquity! If, again, such things were to occur amid the storms of war, it would be a different thing. What then matters one man’s life, or a little more or less of justice? But these things took place in a state of peace, when the country was perfectly secure. Or, again, if our army were an army of mercenaries, soldiers only, accepting the responsibilities of the military trade, which in that case is only a trade, perhaps then I would bow. But this is a matter of the national army; a matter that concerns all the young men of the nation, who are liable to have to appear before a military tribunal; a matter that concerns your sons, gentlemen. [Murmurs of protest.] I should much like to know who interrupts.”

The Judge.--“Permit me; I am forced to repeat what I have already said at previous sessions,--if these manifestations continue, I shall be forced to clear the court-room. There must be no manifestation, either in favor of the accused or against them.”

M. Labori.--“Yes, gentlemen, your sons, innocent or guilty, are liable to be summoned before a military tribunal. You see that we introduce no venom into the debate. You see that the rights of the nation, the liberty of all, civilization itself, is at stake; and, if the country, when it shall know the truth and its full significance, does not revolt in indignation, I shall be unable to understand it.

“That, gentlemen, is why it is necessary that those who understand and measure the gravity of this affair should take the floor, why it is necessary that all men of good will, all true liberals, those who believe in the innocence of Dreyfus and those who do not, those who know and those who do not know, should unite in a sort of sacred phalanx to protest in the name of eternal morality; and that is what M. Zola has done.

“In spite of closed doors, gentlemen, and by the great mass of Frenchmen who could not know at what price the verdict had been secured, Dreyfus might have been forgotten. But there was a little fireside in mourning, where memory remained, and with memory hope. This fireside was that of the Dreyfus family, in regard to which so many calumnies have been spread; and, since this court refused to hear M. Lalance, let me read you what he has just said and published in the newspapers. I read from ‘Le Journal des Débats.’

The Dreyfus family consists of four brothers,--Jacques, Léon, Mathieu, and Alfred. They are closely united,--one soul in four bodies. In 1872 Alsatians were called upon to choose their nationality. Those who desired to remain Frenchmen had to make a declaration and leave the country. The three younger so chose, and left. The eldest, Jacques, who was past the age of military service, and who, moreover, had served during the war in the Legion of Alsace-Lorraine, did not so choose, and was declared a German. He sacrificed himself, in order to be able, without fear of expulsion, to manage the important manufacturing establishment which constituted the family estate. But he promised himself that, if he had any sons, they should all be Frenchmen. The German law, in fact, permits a father to take out a permit of emigration for a son who has reached the age of seventeen. This son loses his German nationality, and cannot reenter the country until he is forty-five years old. Jacques Dreyfus had six sons. In 1894 the two elder were preparing for the Polytechnic school and Saint Cyr. After the trial they had to go away; their career was broken. Two other brothers were in the Belfort school. They were driven out. What was the father to do, knowing that his young brother had been unjustly and illegally condemned? Was he to change his name, as other Dreyfuses have done? Should he abandon his projects, and resolve to have his sons serve in the German army for a year, that they might then reenter the paternal house, and live in a city where the family was respected, and where everybody pitied and esteemed it? Had he done that, no one would have thrown a stone at him. In 1895 and 1896 his third and fourth sons reached the age of seventeen. He said to them: ‘My children, you are now to leave your father’s house, never more to come back to it. Go to that country where your name is cursed and despised. It is your duty. Go.’ And finally, in 1897, the father left his house, his business, and all his friends, and went to establish himself at Belfort, the city of which they wanted to make a fortress. He demanded French naturalization for himself and his two younger sons.

“There you have a document to oppose to the floods of calumny and falsehood. In this family there were two members whose convictions could not be shaken, M. Mathieu Dreyfus and Mme. Dreyfus, whose fidelity is perhaps the most striking evidence of the innocence of her husband, for she, indeed, must know the truth. Mme. Dreyfus had lived beside this man; she knew his daily life; she saw his attitude throughout the trial; she knew the absence of proof; she knew what you yourselves know now, gentlemen. And she had seen the perseverance and firmness of her husband in ascending this Calvary; his courage at the moment of degradation; his attitude, always the same, even up to the present moment. I should like to read you many of his letters, but, to save time, I will read only two,--almost the latest. One is not exactly the next to the last, but the other is the last, and I think it is indispensable that you should hear this cry, always the same, as strong as ever, in spite of the prolongation of the torture. I read you a letter from the Iles du Salut, dated September 4, 1897.

_Dear Lucie_:

I have just received the July mail. You tell me again that you are certain of complete light. This certainly is in my soul. It is inspired by the rights that every man has to ask it, when he wants but one thing,--the truth. As long as I shall have the strength to live in a situation as inhuman as it is undeserved, I shall write you to animate you with my indomitable will. Moreover, the late letters that I have written you are my moral testament, so to speak. In these I spoke to you first of our affection; I confessed also my physical and mental deterioration; but I pointed out to you no less energetically your duty. The grandeur of soul that we have all shown should make us neither weak or vainglorious. On the contrary, it should ally itself to a determination to go on to the end, until all France shall know the truth and the whole truth. To be sure, sometimes the wound bleeds too freely, and the heart revolts. Sometimes, exhausted as I am, I sink under the heavy blows, and then I am but a poor human creature in agony and suffering. But my unconquered soul rises again, vibrating with grief, energy, and implacable will, in view of that which to us is the most precious thing in the world, our honor and that of our children. And I straighten up once more to utter to all the thrilling appeal of a man who asks only justice in order to kindle in you all the ardent fire that animates my soul, and that will be extinguished only with my life.

I live only on my fever, proud when I have passed through a long day of twenty-four hours. As for you, you have not to consider what they say or what they think. It is for you to do your duty inflexibly, and to insist no less inflexibly on your right, the right of justice and truth. If in this horrible affair there are other interests than ours, which we have never failed to recognize, there are also the imprescriptible rights of justice and truth. There is the duty of all to put an end to a situation so atrocious, so undeserved. Then I can wish for us both and for all only that this frightful, horrible, and unmerited martyrdom may come to an end.

What can I add to express again my profound affection for you, for our children, for your dear parents, for all our dear brothers and sisters, for all who suffer through this long and frightful martyrdom? It is useless to tell you in detail of myself and all my petty matters. I do it sometimes in spite of myself, for the heart has irresistible revolts. Bitterness rises to the lips when one sees everything that makes life noble and beautiful misunderstood. Certainly, if it were a question only of my own person, long ago would I have sought in the peace of the grave forgetfulness of what I have seen, of what I have heard, of what I continue to see every day. I have continued to live in order to sustain you all with my indomitable will; for it was no longer a question of my life, it was a question of my honor, of the honor of us all, of the lives of our children. I have endured everything without bending, without lowering my head; I repress every day my feelings of revolt, calling always for the truth, without weariness and without pride. I wish, nevertheless, for both of us, my poor friend, and for all, that our efforts may soon end, and that the day of justice may dawn at last for all who have been so long awaiting it. Every time that I write to you, I find it almost impossible to drop my pen, not because of what I have to say to you, but because thus I part with you again for so long a time, living only in your thought, in the thought of the children, in the thought of you all. Nevertheless, I conclude by embracing you as well as our dear children, your dear parents, and all our dear brothers and sisters, pressing you in my arms with all my strength, and repeating to you, with an energy that nothing can shake and as long as I shall retain a breath of life: Courage! courage and determination!

“In addition, I read to you some short extracts from the last letter, received at Paris, and dated December 25, 1897.

_My dear Lucie_:

More than ever I have tragic movements, in which my brain weakens. That is why I desire to write to you, not to speak to you of myself, but to give you again the counsel that I believe I owe to you. All through this month I have continued my numerous and warm appeals for you and for our children. I desire that this frightful martyrdom may come to an end, that we may at last emerge from the terrible nightmare in which we have so long been living. But what I cannot doubt, and what I have no right to doubt, is that all possible aid will be extended to you that this work of justice and reparation may be accomplished. In short, my darling, what I would like to say to you, in a supreme effort in which I wholly put aside my own person, is that you should maintain your right energetically, for it is frightful to see so many human beings suffer thus, and to think of our unhappy children growing up. But with this should be mingled no irritating question, no question of persons. I wish I could press you in my arms with all the strength of my love, and I beg you to embrace long and tenderly for me my dear and adored children, my dear parents, all my dear brothers and sisters, with a thousand kisses more.

“And beneath are these tragic words, which I must read to you, for they add to the horror:

Read in accordance with orders, the Chief of the Penitentiary Administration.

“It should have been added, ‘copied in accordance with orders,’ for of the authenticity of these letters you can have no doubt, since they are copied in the hand of an employee of the administration. The handwriting of Dreyfus himself does not reach his wife.

“I wish I could read you also, as I intended, a letter from M. Gabriel Monod, for it is an admirable psychological document, a testimonial of the respect in which the writer holds the Dreyfus family, an expert study of handwritings. But I must not detain you.

“It is absolutely necessary, however, that I should read to you an article from ‘Le Jour,’ our most implacable opponent, and an article from the pen of M. Paul de Cassagnac, who this morning in his paper does not exactly shower compliments upon us. ‘Le Jour’ and ‘L’Autorité’ were the instigators of the campaign that is now going on. The article from ‘Le Jour’ that I shall read to you appeared September 11, 1896, over the signature of Adolphe Possien.

Since the Dreyfus question has come up again, and since the discussion now begun can end only in a series of inquiries, we desire to contribute our share to the search for the causes that brought about the arrest and conviction of the prisoner of Devil’s Island. It is known that the doors were closed during the trial, and that during the preliminary incarceration nothing of what the prisoner did or said transpired. Furthermore, little was known of the motives that determined General Mercier to order the arrest of Dreyfus. It is known that the ex-captain was accused of having been in relations with a neighboring power, and of having delivered to it documents concerning the national defence. But what was the nature of these documents? No official communication has made that known; so that at the present hour it seems to be rather generally believed that it was a matter of the general mobilization time-table. Now, that is false, just as it is false in the last degree that the ex-captain was questioned by General de Boisdeffre or by General Gonse.

“I stop here to make an observation that I might have made elsewhere. It has been said in many places that Dreyfus denounced to the enemy the French officers who went on a mission to Germany. It has been said that he denounced Captain Degouy. Now, Captain Degouy’s brother, M. Paul Degouy, has come to this bar to say to me: ‘My brother is not with you in this matter. He is of those who believe that his superiors could not have taken the course that they have in the absence of striking proofs. Nevertheless, I authorize you to say, in my name and in the name of my brother, that never, and for all sorts of reasons which I need not develop, has Dreyfus been suspected of having denounced him.’ I add, in passing, that there have been many other lies told as false as this one, and, when we shall have contradicted them all, you will still find, three months or three years hence, people to tell you that Dreyfus denounced Captain Degouy, etc.

The only person who was ever in communication with Captain Dreyfus after his imprisonment was Major du Paty de Clam, who, after this, affair, was promoted to the office of lieutenant-colonel. The document on the strength of which Dreyfus was condemned is an unsigned _bordereau_, containing no information confidential in its significance. Furthermore, of the five experts to whom this document was submitted, only two, MM. Charavay and Bertillon, recognized the ex-officer’s handwriting, while three others, one of whom was M. Gobert, the expert of the Bank of France, did not recognize it.

“This is an error. There were three experts who recognized it, and two who did not.

It has been said that this document was found, torn up, in the waste-basket of a military _attaché_ of a great neighboring power, from which it was taken by an agent in our pay. Later it was pretended that this was not the case at all. It has been said since that the document was found in the war department itself.

To be brief, thanks to the exaggerated discretion of the government, a double current of opinion set in regarding the Dreyfus case. In a matter as delicate as this, since his treason reawakened all the anti-Semitic passions, and since it was a reminder of the fact that another Jew, Cornelius Herz, had shown dishonor wherever he had passed, Dreyfus should have been tried as his counsel demanded. If this was impossible, at least it was necessary to avoid useless petty mysteries, and to declare frankly everything that was not compromising to the interests of the national defence. Thus acting, they would have avoided the discussions which, though put to sleep for a moment, were bound to reawaken. No honest man would then have been found to make an appeal of pity in favor of one who perhaps is not guilty. It is with the greatest impartiality that I have made an inquiry into the events that brought about the arrest of Dreyfus, and the events that followed, up to the time of his embarkation for Devil’s Island. I do not pretend to prove his innocence; my purpose is to establish that his guilt is not demonstrated.

“Let me ask, in passing, how the innocence of any man can be demonstrated, except by demonstrating that his guilt is not established. Is not innocence a negative thing? If you, gentlemen, were to ask me to prove that you are neither thieves or traitors, I should be quite incapable of it. All that I could say would be that there is no evidence against you, and that consequently it is impossible to demonstrate your guilt. Therefore all those who are shouting for proof are indulging in mere childish clamor.

“Now I read to you what M. de Cassagnac wrote on September 14, 1896:

Our _confrère_, “Le Jour,” pretends, not to prove the innocence of Dreyfus, but to show that his guilt is not demonstrated. This is already too much. Not that we reproach our _confrère_ for pursuing such a demonstration, but that this demonstration is impossible. Like most of our fellow-citizens, we believe Dreyfus guilty, but, like our _confrère_, we are not sure of it. And, like our _confrère_ also, we have the courage to say so, since we cannot be suspected of being favorable to the Jews, whom we combat here as persistently as we combat the Free Masons. The real question is: Can there be any doubt as to the guilt of Dreyfus? Now, thanks to the stupidity and the cowardice of the government of the republic, this question, far from being closed, remains perpetually open. Why? Because the government did not dare to conduct the trial in the open, so that public opinion might be settled.

Now, nothing is more contrary to justice than obscurity. It is only truth that has no fear of the blinding daylight. We are the implacable adversaries of every verdict rendered in the depths of a cave, whether it emanates from Sainte Vehme, from the King of the Mountain, or from the council of war. And we are so, because a verdict so rendered can never be revised.

But, you will tell me, those who declared Captain Dreyfus guilty were French officers, the incarnation of honor and of patriotism. It is true. Only, whatever my esteem and respect for French officers, I must point out that they are not more enlightened or more honorable than their brothers, cousins, and friends who, as jurors, distribute justice in the assize courts in the name of the French people. The very recent Cauvin case, and many others, have sadly demonstrated that error is a human thing, and that judicial errors are already much too frequent, now that the machinery of justice is illuminated by all possible torches. I add that it is only the publicity of a trial that makes a revision possible, and that there can be no revision of any trial of which we know nothing but the brutal result. That is shocking to good sense and equity, and my illustrious friend, the lawyer Demange, was absolutely right when he insisted on a public trial. Juries are often mistaken, and it is by no means proved that councils of war are fallible, especially as it is now said, and without contradiction, that Dreyfus was condemned on the strength of a document which but two out of five experts found to be in his handwriting. Moreover, we know the value and the weight of expert testimony regarding handwriting. Nothing is more uncertain, and sometimes more grotesque.

So that nobody in the world except the judges and the prosecuting attorney can know exactly why and on what Dreyfus was convicted. Unhappily, they are bound by professional secrecy, and so I do not see how our _confrère_, “Le Jour,” will be able to give any interest to its investigation.

Yes, traitors are abominable beings, who should be pitilessly shot like wild beasts; but, for the very reason that the punishment incurred is the more frightful and the more deserved, and carries with it no pity, it should not have been possible for the cowardice of the government with reference to Germany to have left us in a horrible doubt which authorizes us to ask ourselves sometimes if really there is not on Devil’s Island a human being undergoing in innocence a superhuman torture. Such doubt is a frightful thing, and it will continue, because publicity of trial furnishes the only basis for a revision. Now there is no revision. There is no appeal from a sentence wrapped in artificial and deliberate darkness.

“That is what M. de Cassagnac said, and, when he wrote it, he did not know what you have learned during the last fortnight. You see, then, the source of the campaign to which Colonel Picquart alluded in one of his letters to General Gonse. It is not the article in ‘L’Eclair,’ for those letters appeared before September 15. It is these articles that I have just read you; the Dreyfusian campaign, there you have it. The article in ‘L’Eclair,’ in which the name of Dreyfus was falsely written in full, was simply an infamy resorted to to stop that campaign.

“But, whatever the energy and the devotion of the men who undertook this work, it would have come to nothing, if in the staff which has played so prominent a part in the case there had not been found an admirable man,--a soldier, he too, like the others. He has been treated shamefully. Insults have been heaped upon him here which seem to me unworthy of the eminent soldiers whence they came. But the purity of his soul has enabled him to rise above interests, above mere _esprit de corps_, to the more elevated regions of the ideal and of humanity. I refer to Colonel Picquart. He has remained calm; he has remained silent. He has not violated the iron countersign which he, as a soldier, respects. But I know well that, from the broader and more general standpoint of humanity, he will come out of this case increased in stature. I must say a word to you, gentlemen, of his military antecedents and his life. He is now in command of the Fourth Algerian; he is forty-three years of age; at thirty-two he was in command of a battalion; he left the war school a breveted officer; he is a knight of the legion of honor; he was formerly a professor in the war school; he was chief of the third bureau of the staff office, then chief of the bureau of information, and, finally, in April, 1896, was made a lieutenant-colonel. And a fact that makes it vain for his superior officers to try to ruin him is that he was especially appointed, and is the youngest lieutenant-colonel in the French army. Moreover, gentlemen, Colonel Picquart was delegated by his superiors to follow the Dreyfus trial before the council of war of 1894. That will tell you whether he knows the case or not. He too,--at least, I imagine so,--believed in the guilt of Dreyfus. But after the departure of Dreyfus what has been picturesquely called the ‘flights’--that is, the disappearances, the departures, the thefts of documents--continued. Then, gentlemen, his suspicion was aroused.

“In May, 1896, or, at any rate, in the spring of 1896, he discovered the famous dispatch that has been mentioned here. Certain agents bring to the war department--and here, if I commit errors of detail, it will be due solely to the fact that complete explanations have not been given at this bar; if my errors should now provoke them, I should congratulate myself upon it, and accept the corrections,--certain agents bring to the war department cornucopias or packages containing fragments of papers, taken wherever documents coming from the enemy are liable to be found, papers some of which are without interest, but others of which are of value, mixed up by the agents, who take them _en masse_ and deliver them to one of their superiors, who sorts them, in order to find out if there is anything of value among them. The important point is the origin of these packages. What gives them their value is their source, the fact that they are taken on territory where everything that is found, really or fictitiously, has a special value. Before Colonel Picquart became chief of the information service, as we have been given to understand, these packages were handed to Colonel Henry, then major, who, in turn, after sorting them, transmitted them, because he did not know foreign languages, to Captain Lauth, now major. When Colonel Picquart became chief of the bureau, he changed his method of procedure. He asked that these packages be given to him. It was his right. Colonel Sandherr died of general paralysis. He had already been a victim of it for sometime, when Colonel Picquart succeeded him. Colonel Picquart was chosen for this eminent post because they had the fullest confidence in him. And, if he took it upon himself to conduct the services a little more strictly than had been the custom, it was because he intended to give it the closest personal attention.

“You know, gentlemen, what happened in this special matter of the dispatch, addressed to Major Esterhazy. One day a package of documents was handed to Colonel Picquart, and, some days after, Colonel Picquart gave this dispatch to Major Lauth that he might reassemble the fifty-nine or sixty pieces into which it was torn. It was very natural that this document should be given to Major Lauth, for operations of this character were one of his duties.

“What was this dispatch, and what was its value? In itself--and this is a very important point--it had no value at all. Here is the text, with which you are as yet unfamiliar. The document was publicly read during the Esterhazy trial.

I await, first of all, an explanation more detailed than that which you gave me the other day regarding the question at issue. Consequently I beg you to give it to me in writing, in order that I may judge whether I should continue my relations with the R establishment or not.

“This little document, taken from the mails, is of value only on condition that its source is the same as that of the documents in the package of which I have just spoken, that source being a foreign embassy, an enemy’s territory. Coming from that source, the document at once takes on a special importance, for it shows that the embassy in question is in relations with the person to whom it is addressed.”

The Judge.--“Make no reference to that.”

M. Labori.--“_Monsieur le Président_, all this has been told at length in the newspapers.”

The Judge.--“It cannot be very useful in your argument.”