“Well, gentlemen, I ask you if we can be content with such reasons. What is, then, this excessive respect for form? The thing judged, the thing judged, even illegally judged? Would they thus appeal to form, if, by a word, by a decisive document, they could close the mouths of those whom they accuse of agitating the public by a pernicious campaign? The government, gentlemen, is not bound to respect the thing judged. It is its duty, when it can, to quiet the public conscience. Then, if M. Lebrun-Renault’s declaration has any value, what is the meaning of the government’s reserve? The truth is that it has no value, and I shall tell you why.
“I do not look at the matter solely from the standpoint of the evidence that M. Lebrun-Renault would have given, and of the contradictions with which we should have met him. I take the ground that the attitude of Dreyfus throughout is a protest against these pretended confessions. And here pardon me for reading once more. My longest quotations come in this first part of the argument; and, when we shall have finished with them, we shall go on faster; but they are indispensable to enable you to travel this long road, step by step, as it has been travelled by all who have arrived at our opinion.
“There is a scene, gentlemen, which it is necessary for you to review,—the degradation. I know none of more grandeur, none that, from a moral point of view, could have greater influence in a trial like this. Again from ‘L’Autorité’ I borrow the story,—a journal that entertains a hostility towards Dreyfus that amounts to hatred. I might read you also ‘La Libre Parole’s’ version; it is almost the same thing. If you listen as judges, you will see how things can be distorted by prejudice and passion. You will see how this man’s proclamations of his innocence, which tell me that he is innocent, are received as indications of cynicism, and are met by a clamor of wrath and hatred. I want you to see that, gentlemen; and do not forget that I read the story as told by an enemy.
The School clock strikes the first stroke of the hour of nine. General Darras lifts his sword and utters the command, repeated from company to company: “Carry arms!”
The troops execute the movement. Absolute silence follows. Hearts cease to beat, and all eyes are directed toward the right-hand corner of the square, where Dreyfus has been confined in a small building. Soon a little group appears. It consists of Alfred Dreyfus, surrounded by four artillerymen, accompanied by a lieutenant of the republican guard. Between the forms of the artillerymen may be seen very clearly the gilt stripes and glittering sword of the captain, and one may distinguish at a distance the black sword-knot at the hilt of the sword. Dreyfus walks with a firm step.
“See how erect the scoundrel is,” they say.
The group starts toward General Darras, in front of whom is the clerk of the council of war, M. Vallecalle. A clamor goes up from the crowd.
But the group stops. Again there is silence, this time tragic. The cannoneers accompanying Dreyfus step back a little; the condemned man appears, detached from the group. The clerk salutes the general in military fashion, and, turning to Dreyfus, reads in a very distinct voice the sentence condemning him to exile and imprisonment in a fortified spot, and to military degradation. Then the clerk turns to the general again, and makes the military salute. Dreyfus has listened in silence. Then is heard the voice of General Darras, and, although there is a touch of emotion in it, this phrase is distinctly heard:
“Dreyfus, you are unworthy to bear arms. In the name of the French people, we degrade you.”
Then Dreyfus is seen to raise both his arms, and, holding his head high, cry in a loud voice, in which there is not the slightest trace of tremor: