Chapter L: Dreyfus (14)

“Then the question arose whether these two views are not contradictory. The principle of civil society is right, liberty, justice. The principle of military society is discipline, countersign, obedience. And, as each is led by the consciousness of the utility of his function to try to encroach upon his neighbor, military society, which has force at its disposal, tends to encroach on civil authority, and to look upon civil society sometimes from a somewhat lofty standpoint. It is a wrong. Soldiers have no _raison d’être_ except as defenders of the principle which civil society represents. A reconciliation between these two institutions is necessary. The professional army no longer exists. The universal army, the army of all, must be penetrated with the ideas of all, with the universal ideas of right, since it is made up of the universality of citizens. If, absorbed by the thought of defence, which is of the first legitimacy, civil society were to rush into military servitude, we should still have a soil to defend, it is true; but the moral country would be lost, because, abandoning the ideas of justice and liberty, we should have abandoned all that has been done hitherto in this world by the glory and renown of France. These two societies must come to an understanding. Military society must enjoy all its rights, in order to do all its duties. Civil society, conscious of its duties toward the country and the army, must maintain its rights inflexibly, not only in the higher interest of the principle which it represents, but to insure a maximum of efficiency in the military institution. Yes, indeed, the army must be strong, but, as the abnegation of some and the absolute command of others are destined to fuse in one immense effort of life and death for the defence of the territory, it is necessary that civil society, by the superiority of its principle, should preserve its full power of control.

“Gentlemen, you belong to the army. At what moment will the army be most admirable? At the moment when, running to the frontier, it will have all our heart and all our hope. Suppose that a hundred thousand Frenchmen fall in the first battles. Ninety thousand of these will be men who today are not wearing the uniform, and only ten thousand of them will be men who call themselves soldiers. Will these men lie in two heaps? Will it be said that there is one honor belonging to the ten thousand military men, and another belonging to the ninety thousand civilians? No. There is but one honor for all, the honor that consists in the fulfillment of the supreme duty, total duty toward the country. Then let us not abuse a word which no longer has the significance that it had in the days of professional armies. The honor of the army today is the honor of all. The army has but one honor,--that it is potent for the national defence, that in peace it is always respectful of the law.

“General de Pellieux asked us for confidence the other day. And, while he spoke, I reflected that, during the twenty-five years of the empire, we had full confidence in the commanders of the army. We never criticised them, we never controlled them. The men whom I saw start were full of confidence. You know to what disasters they ran. M. Zola has been reproached for having written ‘La Débâcle.’ Alas! gentlemen,--and I say it very low,--if he wrote it, it was because before him there had been men of war to organize it and to bring it about. It is a return of that that is to be avoided, and patriotism does not consist in admiring, whether or no, everything that is done in the army, but in submitting the army to the discipline of the law. When General de Boisdeffre came to this bar, after General de Pellieux, to use toward this jury language that was threatening, he revealed to you what must have taken place before the council of war, and from what we have seen of the trial in the open day we may judge of the trial behind closed doors. The language of General Billot at the tribune was clear enough. It was the equivalent of an order; and did not Colonel Picquart say, to explain the insufficiency of the Ravary report: ‘General de Pellieux had concluded that there was no ground for a prosecution; Major Ravary could not do otherwise than come to the conclusion of his superior?’ It is not necessary to conclude therefrom that the generals have wilfully failed in their duty. Nothing more than their own words is necessary to show us how, without intending it, without realizing it, they have stepped aside from the clear path of right and justice. General de Boisdeffre would have proved it superabundantly, if that had been necessary. He was asked for the proof, or, rather, he was not asked for it, for we were not allowed to ask it, but at the bottom of our hearts we wanted it revealed. If he had brought a decisive proof that would have compelled everybody to bow, for my part, I swear to you, I would have left this court-room with a sense of relief. But what sort of proof did they bring us? A document later by two years than the Dreyfus verdict. What sort of justice is it, gentlemen, that discovers proofs of a just verdict two years after the verdict was rendered, and which produces, as convincing, documents that were never submitted to the accused? That is the philosophy of these closed doors. Behind them everything was known, even the secret documents, known to all except to him whom these documents were to condemn. They hide from us documents the revelation of which they say would be harmful to the national defence, and these documents, which they refuse to M. Scheurer-Kestner and to the chamber, traverse the highways in Major Esterhazy’s pocket. M. Méline, to whom Jaurès said: ‘Yes or no, did you communicate secret documents?’ replied to him: ‘We will answer you elsewhere.’ Elsewhere is here, and here they have not answered us, for I cannot consider as an answer the assertion that two years after the verdict they discovered a proof against the prisoner. M. Labori has told you that this document is a forgery. I tell you that, even if it is true, it is the first duty of all of us to see that this document is submitted to Dreyfus, whether he is a traitor or not,--to Dreyfus and to his lawyer; and, if you say that, because he is a Jew, he is not to be tried as others are tried, I tell you that the day will come when you will be similarly treated because you are a Protestant or a Freethinker. This is a denial of the French idea born of the Revolution, the idea of liberty for all, the idea of tolerance for all, the idea of equality of guarantees, equality of rights, equality of justice. If you once condemn a man without the forms of justice, some day the forms of justice will be abrogated by others to your harm. How justly the historians have cried out against the abominable law of the 22d of Prairial, made by Robespierre to rid himself of his enemies! All thinkers have handed over to the execration of mankind this abominable law that abolished the right of defence. It is odious, it is infamous; but at least it allowed the prisoner to know the charge against him. Why do you not do as much, you in times which are not of revolutionary violence, in peace, in tranquillity, when all the machinery of the public powers is operating freely? Yes, we condemn a man, a French officer, for he is a French officer, and not of the least distinguished, belonging to a family which has given proofs of patriotism. I do not know the Dreyfus family. I only reproduce the testimony of M. Lalance, which M. Labori has read to you.

“Even if Dreyfus is a traitor, I do not see what interest we can have in refusing to honor people who are not responsible for the crime committed, and who have given manifest proofs of love for the French country. I cannot suffer the error of one to become a burden on all. If Dreyfus is guilty, let him be punished as severely as you will. You have my article, in which I say that I ask no pity for him. But, if he has brothers, children, parents, who have behaved themselves as good Frenchmen, I hold it a point of honor to do them justice. It is the misfortune of the times, in which all passions are furiously unchained, that we will not listen to the voice of reason; that we insult each other, that we accuse each other. You have even seen here officers who are old comrades, who tomorrow will vie with each other in deeds of valor and self-sacrifice, if the country is threatened,--you have seen them accuse each other, defy each other, and exchange retorts as if they were sword-thrusts. Tomorrow Colonel Picquart will cross swords with a companion in arms whom at the bottom of his heart perhaps he loves. And we, who do not wear the uniform, who are Frenchmen all the same, and who intend also that France shall be effectively defended, what do we do? A few of us assert that perhaps a judicial error has been committed. Then goes up a great cry from the crowd: ‘Traitor! Scoundrel! Renegade! Agent of the Jews!’ And these are Frenchmen, gentlemen, who think to serve France by pointing her out as a den of people who sell themselves; these are Frenchmen, to whom it never occurs to suppose that their fellow-citizens are capable of French generosity. They hurl insults, they betray hatred, and it is thus that they pretend to serve the country.

“Gentlemen, if our enemies do not understand us, it is our duty to ourselves and to our country to understand them, in order that the prevailing obscurity may be dissipated. For my part, I consider that the worst treason, perhaps because it is the most common, is treason to the French spirit, that spirit of tolerance and justice which has made us beloved by the peoples of the earth. Even if France were to disappear tomorrow, we should leave behind us one thing eternal, the sentiments of liberty and human justice that France unchained upon the world in 1789. Gentlemen, when the hour of insults is past, when they have finished outraging us, it will be necessary to reply. And then what will they offer us? The thing judged. Gentlemen, look above your heads. See that Christ upon the cross. There is the thing judged, and it has been put above the judge’s head that the sight of it may not disturb him. It ought to be placed at the other end of the room, in order that, before rendering his verdict, the judge might have before his eyes the greatest example of a judicial error, held up for the shame of humanity. Oh! I am not one of the worshippers of Christ, in the sense in which many among you are, perhaps. But, after all, perhaps I love him more, and certainly I respect him more than do many of those who preach massacre in the name of the religion of love.

“They also tell us of the honor of the army. On that point I have answered, but I wanted to cite to you, so odious are these words of treason, and so revolting is it to me to see them flung so freely about,--I wanted to cite to you the case of Marshal Bazaine. He was really a traitor, was he not? He betrayed French soldiers by hundreds of thousands, at the critical moment when it depended upon him to change the fortune of our arms and save his country. I wish to indulge in no declamation here, but I declare, and I defy any man to rise to contradict me, that Bazaine committed the greatest act of treason known to the world. Condemned to military degradation and to death, they spared him both. Tell me, do you think that the responsibility of commanders is greater than the responsibility of soldiers? Yes, undoubtedly. Well, if this responsibility is greater, why every day do they punish simple soldiers so pitilessly, and why do they pardon the traitor _par excellence_, the traitor who had no excuse, the traitor whose outstretched hand France awaited on the day of her supreme disaster. To what _régime_ did they submit him? Let me read you a few words from a pamphlet by M. Marchi, keeper of the prison of the Sainte Marguerite Islands. Here are his instructions:

You will treat the prisoner with the greatest regard; in short, at Sainte Marguerite one must be a man of the world, and not a jailer.

“M. Marchi arrives at Sainte Marguerite. The temporary superintendent makes him familiar with the service, and informs him, among other things, that, supposing it to be his duty to watch the condemned man whenever he went to walk upon the terrace, Lieutenant-Colonel Valley went to Paris to protest against the conduct of the keeper, wherefore the keeper had been reprimanded? It would take too long to tell you of all the instructions. Suffice it to know that cabinet ministers wrote to Bazaine, that they addressed him as Monsieur the Marshal, and that there was a question of pensioning him. Boats were allowed to come to the edge of the terrace, whence he conversed with visitors. On the eve of his escape he had obtained permission to go out with a guardian. Well, really, when I compare this tolerance, which is an outrage upon France and upon the army, with the hatred unchained against the prisoner on Devil’s Island; when I remember that an artillery officer named Triponé, who had not only delivered documents, but had delivered the Bourges detonator, of which we were the only possessors in Europe, by the complicity of the sub-officer Fessler, to the house of Armstrong, which then gave the benefit of it to Germany; when I see that Triponé was sentenced to five years in prison, and was pardoned after two years and a half, though his crime was certainly not less than that of Dreyfus,--I say that there is no equality of punishment between these Christians and this Jew.

“Again, there is another fact. Adjutant Chatelain, who is now in New Caledonia, perhaps is farming there and raising cattle; his crime, if I remember rightly, consisted in the sale of certain documents to Italy. He was not less guilty than Dreyfus. But what a difference in treatment! They talk of equality before the law. It is a phrase. We await the reality. They tell us that we have violated the law. I maintain, on the contrary, that we appear here in the interest of the law, and I say that we were unable to do otherwise. For the rectification of a judicial error application was made to the war department, to the executive power. You know how General Billot received the application; he refused to act. M. Trarieux applied to M. Méline; M. Scheurer-Kestner did the same; M. Méline would not even talk with them. In the senate, discussion, leading to nothing. In the chamber, discussion, leading to nothing. And similarly with the council of war, with the investigation by General de Pellieux, with the investigation by Major Ravary. Now, when all the powers that are the organs of the law fail in their legal duty, what was left for those who, like M. Zola, have undertaken the work of justice from which the powers of justice shrank? M. Zola’s idea is an appeal to the people, an appeal to the people represented by twelve jurors whom he does not know, whose opinions none of us know, to pass upon his act, and say whether they will allow him to bring out the light. If he must be struck, he is very proud to be struck for this confession of justice and truth.

“If the jury gives him its aid, the pacification of minds may be accomplished, and the agitation of this day finished by the legal reparation due to all who have been deprived of the guarantees of the law. Without truth, M. Zola can do nothing; he is powerless; he will be baffled on every hand. With a bit of the truth, M. Zola is invincible. It is for the jurors to answer to the appeal of truth.

“I have said that the government is fallible. The jurors also have no higher light. They are men. They do their best. They have the advantage of being for a time unbiased by _esprit de corps_, and of being able thus, in perfect liberty of mind, to act in accordance with that need of superior justice which we all feel. We are before you, gentlemen. Shortly you will pass judgment. I hope that you may not be governed by the argument which now controls too many minds. How many Frenchmen there are who say: ‘Possibly Dreyfus was condemned illegally, but he was condemned justly, and that is sufficient; so let us say no more about it.’ Sophism of the _raison d’Etat_, which has done us so much harm,--which hampered the magnificent movement of the French revolution by the guillotine and all sorts of violence. Ah! we have torn down the Bastille. Every 14th of July we dance to celebrate the abolition of the _raison d’Etat_. But a Bastille still remains within us, and, when we question ourselves, an illegality committed to the detriment of others seems to us acceptable, and we say, and we think, that this may be a little evil for a great good. Profound error. An illegality is a form of iniquity, since the law is guarantee of justice.

“Gentlemen, all the generals together have no right to say that the illegality which comes from a certain form of justice, since it is a denial of it; all the magistrates together,--have no right to say that illegality can be justice, because the law is nothing but the guarantee of justice. To do justice outside of the law no one has either the right or the power. If you wish to render the supreme service to the country under the present circumstances, establish the supremacy of the law, the supremacy of justice. Cause to disappear from our souls that respect for the _raison d’Etat_ so absurd in a democracy. With Louis XIV, with Napoleon, with men who hold a people in their hands and govern according to their good pleasure, the _raison d’Etat_ is intelligible. In a democracy the _raison d’Etat_ is only a contradiction, a vestige of the past. ‘France is a high moral person,’ said Gambetta. I do not deny it, monarchy or republic. But I say that the tradition of the _raison d’Etat_ has had its day, and that the hour has come for us to attach ourselves to the modern idea of liberty and justice. After the original duty of defence of the soil, nothing can be more urgent than to establish among us a _régime_ of liberty and justice, which shall be in accordance with the ambition of our fathers, an example to all civilized nations.

“At the present hour, I admit, the problem presents itself to you in a bitter and sorrowful form. Oh! it is very sorrowful to sincere people to find themselves in hostility with brave soldiers who intended to do well, who wished to do well, and who, thinking to do well, have not done well. That happens to civilians not in uniform; that happens to civilians in uniform,--for soldiers are nothing else.

“From this point of view you are at a turning-point in our history, and you must submit military society to the control of the civil law, or abandon to it our most precious conquests. We have not to pass upon General de Boisdeffre or upon General de Pellieux. They will explain themselves to their superiors. It is not our affair. They have nothing to ask of us. But, however painful it may be to find ourselves for a day in conflict with them, take your course, since no danger can result, unless you yourselves abandon the cause of the law of justice which you represent. Thus you will render us the grand service, the inestimable service, of extinguishing at the beginning the religious war that threatens to dishonor this country. [Murmurs of protest.]

“Since you protest, so much the better. I am willing to believe that it is your intention to renew the wars of religion; but, when I see in France, in our France of Algeria, a pillaging of warehouses; when I see it boasted in the newspapers that safes have been thrown into the sea, and that contracts have been torn up; when I see that Jews, while going to get bread for their families, have been massacred,--I have a right to say that religious warfare offered no other aspect in the middle ages; and I say that the jurors of today, in rendering a verdict in favor of liberty and justice for all, even for Jews, will signify their intention of putting an end to these excesses by saying to those who have committed these barbarities: ‘In the name of the French people, you shall go no farther.’

“Gentlemen, we are the law; we are toleration; we are the defenders of the army, for we do not separate justice from patriotism, and the army will not be strong, it will not be respected, unless it derives its power from respect for the law. I add that we are the defenders of the army, when we ask you to drive Esterhazy from it. You have driven out Picquart, and kept Esterhazy. And, gentlemen of the jury, since there has been reference to your children, tell me who would like to belong to the same battalion that Esterhazy belongs to? Tell me if you will trust this officer to lead your children against the enemy? I need only ask the question. No one will dare reply.

“Gentlemen, we have known terrible shocks in this century. We have experienced all glories and all disasters. We are now confronted with the unknown, between all fears and all hopes. Seize the occasion, as we have seized it, and determine your destinies. It is an august thing, this judgment of the people upon itself. It is a terrible thing also, this decision by the people of its future. Your verdict, gentlemen, will not decide our fates as much as your own. We appear before you. You appear before history.”

It was six o’clock when M. Clemenceau took his seat and Attorney-General Van Cassel rose to reply.

“I am obliged to place the question before you anew. M. Zola has declared that the council of war condemned in obedience to orders. Has he given the slightest proof of this? He has not even attempted it. For twelve days we have heard nothing here but insults to the army; and now, for the last two days, in order that they might be tolerated here, they have done nothing but repeat that the staff is made up of brave generals, and that the council of war rendered its verdict in good faith. The insulters have been forced to hide themselves behind the army, shouting: ‘Long live the army!’”

To this address M. Labori made rejoinder. Facing the audience, which was crying “Enough! enough! Down with Labori!” he said:

“This last incident was necessary, in order to show the two parties to this debate,--those, on the one hand, who plead for justice and right, and those who shout ‘Enough!’ when, in the name of the accused, the counsel takes the floor, as is his right.”

Then, turning to the attorney-general, he continued:

“You call me an insulter of the army; for it was at me that your words were aimed, since it was I who spoke for two days. I am not of those who are accustomed to such attacks, and I am not of those who are disposed to submit to them. I do not accept this insult that rises to me from your seat, Monsieur Attorney-General, however high your position. From the standpoint of talent you and I are equals. You have no lesson to give me. I refuse you the right, and I say that you rose to utter these brief words because you knew that they would let loose a manifestation which you had a right to expect from a hall packed against us.”

Then, turning to the jury, he concluded:

“There are two ways of understanding right, gentlemen of the jury. The question before you is this: Is Zola guilty? Let these clamors dictate to you, gentlemen, the duty of firmness that is incumbent upon you. You are the sovereign arbiters. You are higher than the army, higher than the judicial power. You are the justice of the people, which only the judgment of history will judge. If you have the courage, declare Zola guilty of having struggled against all hatreds in behalf of right, justice, and liberty.”

The session was then suspended, and the jury retired for deliberation. After thirty-five minutes, it returned. The court came in again. Then the foreman of the jury rose and said:

“On my honor and my conscience the declaration of the jury is: as concerns Perrenx, _yes_, by a majority vote. As concerns Zola, _yes_, by a majority vote.”

Then the air was filled with cries of ‘Long live the army! Long live France! Down with the insulters! To the door with Jews! Death to Zola!’ amid which Zola sadly cried: ‘These people are cannibals.’

The court then retired to deliberate upon the sentence. Returning a few minutes later, it condemned M. Perrenx, the _gérant_ of “L’Aurore,” to an imprisonment of four months and the payment of a fine of three thousand francs; upon M. Emile Zola it inflicted the maximum penalty of one year’s imprisonment and a fine of three thousand francs.

The trial thus being ended, the court adjourned; but a day or two later the council for the accused appealed from the verdict to the higher court.

Transcriber’s Note

Printer’s errors have been corrected by the transcriber where they could be clearly identified. Otherwise, as far as possible, original spelling and punctuation have been preserved.

In this file, text in _italics_ is indicated by underscores.