“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. I know 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 justice en 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 tomorrow will 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 is now 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. The rôle of 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 know very 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.