Starting from the 27th, Major du Paty de Clam came almost daily to submit him to new examinations and comparisons of handwriting, the sole purpose of which was to obtain a confession, which Dreyfus never would make. Up to the day when this unfortunate was handed over to the reporter of the council of war, he knew nothing more than that he was accused of the crime of high treason. The examination was long and detailed, and, while it was in progress, Dreyfus had so little expectation that he would be put on trial, and still less that he would be convicted, that he said several times: “What compensation shall I ask? I will apply for the cross, and give my resignation. I told Major du Paty that I would do so, and he has embodied the statement in his report to the minister. He could find no proof against me,—for there was none,—any more than could the reporter-magistrate, who confines himself to inferences and suppositions, without making any precise assertions.”
A few moments before appearing before his judges, he said: “I hope that my martyrdom is nearing its end, and that I shall soon be in the arms of my family.” Unfortunately it was to be otherwise. After the verdict, Dreyfus was taken back to his room, where I awaited him. At sight of me he cried out, sobbing: “My only crime is that I was born a Jew. To this point has my life of labor led me. Why did I enter the war school? Why did I not hand in my resignation, as my family so desired me to do?” Such was his despair that, fearing a fatal ending, I had to redouble my vigilance. The next day his counsel came to see him. M. Demange, entering his room, approached him with open arms, and, in tears, said to him, as he pressed him to his breast: “My child, your condemnation is the greatest infamy of the century.” I was completely upset.
From that day Dreyfus, who all this time had been without news from his family,—for so far he had not been allowed to write to them,—was authorized to correspond with them under the eye of the commissioner of the government, to whom all letters sent or received were delivered. I witnessed the only two authorized interviews that he had with his wife and his mother-in-law. They were very touching.
As soon as the appeal was taken, Major du Paty came again, with a special permit from the minister for free communication with Dreyfus. After making inquiries concerning the state of mind of the condemned man, he went to him, telling the principal agent to remain within call in case of need. In this last interview, as appears from a letter written immediately by Dreyfus to the minister of war, Major du Paty endeavored to obtain a confession of guilt, or, at least, a confession of an impudent act of bribery. Dreyfus answered that he had never bribed anyone,—that he was innocent.
On January 4, 1895, I was relieved of my heavy responsibility. After shaking hands with Captain Dreyfus, I gave him over to the gendarmes, who took him, handcuffed, to the military school, where, proclaiming his innocence, he underwent his degradation,—a torture more terrible than death,—and was then sent into exile. My mission was an extremely sad and painful one, having lived on terms of intimacy with this unfortunate for three months, my formal orders being to be present at all his meals and watch him narrowly, in order that no written communication from without might reach him, hidden in his food. During all the long years that, by a choice which has honored me, I have been at the head of various penitentiary establishments, I have had much experience with prisoners, and I do not fear to declare openly that a terrible error has been committed. I have never considered Captain Dreyfus as a traitor to his country, to his uniform. My immediate superiors knew my opinion from the first. I declared it in presence of high official and political personages, as well as before numerous officers of all grades, journalists, and men of letters. Moreover, the government knew my opinion, for, on the eve of the degradation, the head of a bureau in the interior department came to me, sent by his chief, M. Dupuy, to ask me for information concerning Dreyfus. I answered to the same effect. This official must have repeated it to his superiors. Now, I declare that up to November 5 last I had never received from any of my superiors any order or hint to keep silent, and that I have steadily proclaimed the innocence of Dreyfus, who is the victim either of one of those fatalities which are inexplicable and impenetrable, or else of an unfathomable conspiracy, deliberately concocted.
“What I desired to make known to you, gentlemen, was not only the personal impression of Major Forzinetti,—who, since this campaign entered upon its acute stage, has been relieved of his position, but who, until then, had held it, though his superiors knew his opinion,—but also the singular, bizarre, and mysterious processes to which they resorted during this examination.
“A secret examination, a romantic examination, followed by closed doors, closed doors declared under circumstances which I am going to point out to you by showing you how M. Demange was interrupted during the public hearing, doors closed in spite of the protests of the press, which was of one voice in demanding publicity. Picture to yourselves now the falsehoods that the press circulated, the mystery that hovered over the affair, the semi-revelations that, from one direction and another, reveal this prison in the Rue de Cherche-Midi as one of those fantastic prisons in which go on I know not what frightful and mysterious things. People necessarily came to the conclusion that Dreyfus had been caught in direct relations with an ambassador, or with an ambassador’s secretary, or a military attaché. This was the starting-point of the convictions against which now all argument is powerless, because, from the first, thanks to all these lies, there has been effected in many sincere minds one of those crystallizations which have the character of permanency. To justify so much mystery two things were necessary: first, absolute respect for the law; second, a complete knowledge of the case by all who played a part in it,—examining magistrates, minister’s counsel, prisoner, and judges. I spoke to you yesterday of the arguments of those honest people who say: ‘We cannot believe that the judges wilfully erred.’ Upon what does this argument rest? Upon the conviction that the judges rendered their verdict in perfect conformity to the law, and in full knowledge of the cause. Is not this the basis today of the sentiments of those who talk to us of the thing judged? Would the simple argument that Captain Dreyfus is a Jew be accepted by anyone? I do not believe it. Yesterday I spoke severely of anti-Semitism, because I consider it a doctrine which one should have the courage to combat. Yet I do not offer a single one of the anti-Semites the insult of believing that they would accept the argument: ‘Captain Dreyfus is a Jew; therefore his conviction was justified, whether he was innocent or guilty.’ Then I am right in saying that that which constitutes the strength of my honest adversaries is the double idea that everything took place in accordance with law, and that everybody concerned was in full possession of the facts. Well, gentlemen, nothing of all this is true. The basis of these honest convictions has no real existence. Saying nothing at present of the violation of law, the gravity of the facts was not established, their materiality was not proved. Pressing visits of Dreyfus to Belgium or Germany,—none. Relations with an ambassador, or with an ambassador’s secretary, or even with a military attaché, directly proven,—none. For the present, I am obliged to confine myself to this. We shall come to the rest later. But I must add that, if there was in the department a photograph of a document that represented a letter exchanged between two military attachés of the Triple Alliance,—a letter which they tried later to use as a document in the Dreyfus trial,—this photograph was in the war department eight months before the arrest of Dreyfus, eight months before they thought of him. It does not apply to Dreyfus, as I shall show you presently. Relations of Dreyfus with the enemy, civil accomplices? Nothing of the sort; and I speak here according to the indictment, on the strength of the d’Ormescheville report, to which alone they have a right to appeal. There is a single document, the bordereau, whose origin is not declared, but is said by General Gonse to tell against the accused, though they refuse to put him in a position to contradict it. This writing and the expert opinions upon it,—opinions which I shall discuss, but which for the moment I refer to only as contradictory,—these comprise the entire evidence communicated to the defence. Outside of these, the government knows nothing. One man alone, General Mercier, who may be a brave soldier, but who surely knows more of military tactics than of great cases like this, took everything upon himself. For the absent documents he substituted his impression, his arbitrary impression, the result of a naive confidence, of an incredible credulity, in the puerile processes of the examination, processes which are nothing but the fruit of the imagination—honest, I admit, but really childish—of his subordinates. In using the word childish, do I go too far, gentlemen? What, then, is to be thought of that dictation from the bordereau which was made to Captain Dreyfus at the moment of his arrest?”
Here M. Labori read the passage from the d’Ormescheville indictment, describing the dictation from the bordereau to Dreyfus by M. du Paty de Clam, who notes the agitation of the accused. Then he continued:
“I have a right to say that these are puerile methods of judicial examination.
“There is the accusation! So far, there is no question of the secret document. Now for the proof of my statement that General Mercier substituted his arbitrary impression for absent documents. Does he speak of other documents to the cabinet? Were any other charges made known to M. Guérin or to M. Dupuy, who was then a cabinet minister? No. They had nothing but the minister’s word to determine them to follow him in the path leading to the dishonor and civil death of an officer. Listen to an interview with M. Guérin, the authenticity of which will not be disputed,—an interview reported by M. Marcel Hutin in ‘Le Gaulois.’ In presence of the jury the cabinet ministers shelter themselves behind professional secrecy. Not so in the press, and it is so much the better. Hear, then, what they said before this trial. M. Guérin, says the author of the article, explained that M. Charles Dupuy and himself were the only cabinet ministers whom General Mercier made familiar with the case. Says the former keeper of the seals: