“Gentlemen of the jury, by your verdict of acquittal set an example of firmness. You feel unmistakably that this man is the honor of France. Zola struck, France strikes herself. And, in conclusion, I have but one word to say. Let your verdict signify several things: first, ‘Long live the army!’ I too cry ‘Long live the army!’ but also ‘Long live the republic!’ and ‘Long live France!’ That is, gentlemen, ‘Long live the right! Long live the eternal ideal!’”
Speech of M. Georges Clemenceau.
M. Labori was followed by M. Georges Clemenceau, representing the gérant of “L’Aurore.” He spoke as follows:
“Gentlemen of the jury, we are nearing the end of this exciting trial. After the magnificent summing-up of the young orator, whom we all have applauded, I have no demonstration to add, and I should reproach myself for keeping you here longer, were it not absolutely necessary. M. Labori has told you the story of a great tragedy. Far away a man is in confinement who perhaps is the worst criminal conceivable, and who perhaps is a martyr, a victim of human fallibility. All the powers that are established to secure justice M. Labori has pictured to you in combination against justice. And he has appealed to you for the revision of a great trial. Yes, it is a great drama that has been developed in your presence. You, the judges, have seen the actors appear at this bar, and, after you shall have judged, you, in turn, will be judged by the public opinion of France. It was to obtain the verdict of that public opinion that M. Emile Zola voluntarily committed the act that brings him before you. After having reviewed with M. Zola all the phases of this drama, there remains still one thing to be done,—to try to free our minds from all impressions, and to inquire what we have thought and felt in order to determine our judgment.
“To that end, gentlemen, would it not be well first to go back to the state of mind in which all Frenchmen, without exception, were when ex-Captain Dreyfus was convicted unanimously by a council of war. And, if you will permit me, I will begin my brief explanations by reading an article of mine with which I am confronted today, and which I wrote on the morrow of the conviction of Dreyfus. It seems to me that at that time all Frenchmen must have thought as I did, and, when I shall have shown that, I will inquire how a minority of Frenchmen have arrived at a different opinion. Here, gentlemen, is what I wrote on the day after the conviction of Dreyfus. The article is entitled ‘The Traitor.’
Unanimously a council of war has declared Captain Alfred Dreyfus guilty of treason. The crime is so frightful that there has been an effort to entertain doubt to the very last moment. That a man brought up in the religion of the flag, a soldier honored with the protection of the secrets of the national defence, should betray,—frightful word,—should deliver to the foreigner all that can help him in his preparations for a new invasion,—that seemed impossible. How could a man be found to do such a thing? How can a human being so disgrace himself that he can expect only to be spat upon by those whom he has served? Such a man must have no relatives, no wife, no child, no love of anything, no tie of humanity, or even of animality,—for the animal in the herd instinctively defends his own. He must have been an unclean soul, an abject heart. Nobody wanted to believe it. Every chance for doubt was eagerly seized. Then they caviled; they calculated all the chances of error; they constructed romances on the bits of information that reached the public ear. They wanted complete light. They protested in advance against closed doors.
In such trials, it must be admitted, publicity, with the comments that it involves, is liable to aggravate the evil that treason does. The liberty to say everything, undeterred by any consideration of public order, may even be of advantage to the defence.
“You see, gentlemen, that I then recognized that there are circumstances when closed doors may be necessary. I have not changed my opinion. I said that closed doors might even be favorable to the defence, for then the defence would have the liberty to say everything; but on one condition,—that all the documents should be submitted to it. You know that that condition was not fulfilled. I continue.
Consequently those who had most earnestly called for a public trial accepted without protest the statement of the president of the council of war that there are interests higher than all personal interests.
The trial lasted four days. The accused was defended by one of the first lawyers at the Paris bar. By the unanimous decision of his judges, Alfred Dreyfus has been sentenced to the maximum penalty. Such a decree is not rendered without a poignant examination of conscience, and, if any doubt could have remained for the benefit of the accused, we should surely have found a trace of it in the sentence. But the judge has said: Death! But for Article 5 of the constitution of 1848, which abolished the death penalty for political offences, Dreyfus would be shot tomorrow.