Here a formidable question arises.
Can the crime of Dreyfus be likened to a political crime? I answer boldly, No. Men entertaining different conceptions of the interests of the common country may struggle with all their might for a monarchy or for a republic, for despotism or for liberty; they may struggle against each other; they may kill each other; but they are not to be confounded with the public enemy who betrays the very thing that each of them pretends to defend. How is it that jurists have been able to establish an identity between two acts which contradict each other? I do not know, and I do not congratulate them on their discovery.
Undoubtedly I am as firmly opposed as ever to the death penalty. But the public can never be made to understand why, a few weeks ago, an unfortunate boy of twenty was shot for having thrown a button from his cloak at the head of the president of the council of war, whereas the traitor Dreyfus soon will start for L’Ile Nou, where the garden of Candide awaits him. Yesterday, at Bordeaux, the soldier Brevert appeared before the council of war of la Gironde for having broken certain articles in the barracks. At the trial he threw his cap at the representative of the government. Death. And for the man who helps the enemy to invade his country, who summons the Bavarians of Bazeilles to fresh massacres, who paves the way for incendiaries, and land-stealers, and executioners of the country, a peaceful life given up to the joys of cocoanut-tree cultivation. There is nothing so revolting.
Truly, I wish that the death penalty might disappear from our codes. But who does not understand that the military code will of necessity be its last asylum? As long as armies shall exist, it probably will be difficult to govern them otherwise than by a law of violence. But, if, in the scale of punishments, the death penalty is the last degree, it seems to me that it must be reserved for the greatest crime, which, without any doubt, is treason. To kill a dazed unfortunate who insults his judges is madness when we allow a tranquil life to the traitor. Since unfortunately there are beings who are capable of treason, this crime must be made to appear in the eyes of all as the most execrable that can be committed. Unhappily, in our present state of mind, the sinister incident which has so deeply stirred opinion is for many but a pretext for declamation. It is so convenient to put the trumpet to the mouth and assume the attitudes of a disheveled patriot, while having treasures of indulgence for generals who indulge openly in anti-patriotic language. We were not capable of shooting Bazaine. A marshal of France who had the highest duties toward the army of which he was the commander-in-chief pardoned the traitor, and relieved him of the penalty of degradation, after which they allowed him to escape. What excuse had he,—an army commander who had betrayed his army to the enemy? Strange patriotism that permitted this scandal. No less strange the tolerance that recently protected the abominable language used by another army commander in talking to two reporters.
Alfred Dreyfus is a traitor, and I offer no soldier the insult of putting him on a level with this wretch. But what weakness in regard to the high officer; and what severity toward a mere act of insolence before the council of war. Strike the traitor, but let the discipline be equal for all. To tolerate disorder in high places would end in the same result as treason. The privilege of some causes the revolt of others. That the army may be united and strong, there must be one law for all. That was formerly one of the promises of the republic. We await its realization.
“Gentlemen, I told you just now that I believe that I then expressed the sentiments which animated all Frenchmen; and yet, when today they confront me with this article, I pretend that it contains my complete justification. What! We are to be suspected of desiring to outrage the army, when, on the day when it declared its verdict, we showed confidence in its justice? Yes, a council of war unanimously decided that a man was guilty of treason. How could Frenchmen, on the day of the verdict, knowing nothing of the facts, doubt that the council had done its duty?
“But, after the long, laborious, and luminous argument of M. Labori, have we not occasion to ask whether, since the day when I wrote this article, serious events have not occurred? These events M. Labori had put before you. He has discussed them, and it now seems to me impossible that your minds should not be flooded with a light almost complete. For, gentlemen, I confess that my ambition, since French opinion was unanimous on the day of the verdict, is that French opinion may be unanimous also in admitting that the most honest judges may have been mistaken, seeing that they are men.
“Yes, gentlemen, many events have taken place since 1894. Did we then know the bordereau? Did we know the secret document of ‘L’Eclair’? Did I know of them when I wrote the article that I have just read? Did I know that a secret document had been communicated to the judges in the council-chamber? I do not know, gentlemen, whether M. Labori has sufficiently insisted on this idea, but it is of a nature to so strike the opinion of all men, without exception, that I ask myself how we can help arriving at a unanimous opinion concerning it.
“You are told that a document was communicated in the council-chamber. Do you realize what that means? It means that we judge a man, condemn him, brand him, dishonor his name forever, that of his wife, that of his children, that of his father, the names of all whom he loves, on the strength of a document that has not been shown to him. Gentlemen, who among you would not revolt at the thought of being condemned under such conditions? Who among you would not cry out to us to ask justice, if, dragged before the courts of his country after a mere pretence at examination, after a purely formal trial, his honor and his life were to be passed upon by judges assembled in his absence to condemn him on the strength of a document with which he had not been made acquainted? Is there one of us that would willingly submit to such a verdict? If that is true, gentlemen, I say that it devolves upon all of us to see that such a trial should be reviewed. I do not care to consider at this moment whether or not there are any reasons for presuming innocence. I have listened to M. Labori’s argument, and I do not conceal from you the fact that I am now inclined to think that there are strong reasons for believing Dreyfus innocent. I cannot affirm it absolutely; I have not the authority. And you, gentlemen, have not to pronounce upon the innocence of Dreyfus. All that you say is that there has been a verdict which was not rendered legally. In this case, in truth, form is of more importance than substance. When the right of a single individual is injured, the right of all is in peril,—the right of the nation itself. We love our country. That love no one monopolizes. But our country is not simply the territory on which we live. It is the home of right and justice, to which all men are attached, however different their opinions, be they friends or enemies. It is the common hearth of all, a guarantee of security, of equal justice for all. You cannot conceive of country without justice. The governors who represent it, the judges, the soldiers, however loyal they may be, are liable to err, and the whole question here is whether in this instance they have committed an error.
“When I wrote the article which I have read to you, I knew nothing of the secret document first spoken of by ‘L’Eclair.’ I was unacquainted with the bordereau reproduced by ‘Le Matin’; I had not heard the testimony of M. Salle, or its confirmation by M. Demange; I had been furnished no key to the reticence of General Mercier; I had not been informed of the prejudices of Colonel Sandherr against the Jews. [Murmurs of protest.] I am surprised to hear these protests. I have no desire to say anything that can wound anybody. A man came to this bar who, I regret to say, left the court-room amid the silence of all. I wish that he had been hailed with our unanimous applause. I refer to M. Lalance, former protesting deputy in the reichstag, who carried into the German assembly the protests of French patriotism. He came here to tell us that Colonel Sandherr, whom I never had the honor to know, and against whom I have absolutely nothing to say, had prejudices against the Jews,—prejudices which he shares with a very great number of very honest people. Therefore I have no intention of outraging Colonel Sandherr. I simply cite the testimony of a witness.”