Testimony of M. Trarieux.
His deposition was as follows:
“I did not follow the details of the Dreyfus trial of 1894. But in 1895 and 1896 serious matters leaked out that much disturbed my mind. The first concerned the existence of secret documents that were said to have played a part. Much more light has been thrown upon that matter since, but I was profoundly agitated by what was said even then. If other documents than those communicated to the accused and his counsel had indeed been submitted to the judges and had influenced their decisions, there was, at least in my opinion, no State reason that could justify it. The first principle and the essential basis of our penal law is that an accused person cannot appear before justice without knowing of what he is accused and concerning what he is to be called upon for an explanation. Nevertheless, gentlemen, I was not certain of the fact, and so I kept the secret to myself. Afterward my trouble was increased by the reading of the testimony of one of the experts in the Dreyfus case, which chance had placed in my hands. Thus I became acquainted with the document that determined the condemnation, and the bordereau of which so much has been said. Resemblances in the details of certain letters were pointed out; but a serious observation was made, which I found later in the indictment when the indictment was made public. It was admitted that the bordereau showed important differences from the documents with which it was compared. To explain these differences, it was said that undoubtedly they were intentional on the part of Dreyfus. I was much struck by this remark. It was the observation of a moralist rather than the affirmation of an expert; so I could reason with these gentlemen. I asked myself if their explanations were not in a certain measure—let us say in a large measure—shockingly against the probabilities. I asked myself if it was possible that a person, fearing that he might be compromised by his handwriting, and wishing to disguise it, had been so stupid as not to make it absolutely unrecognizable; if it was possible, in short, that this condemned man would have been so stupid, in spite of his intention to disarm suspicion, as to leave apparent traces of similarity in the document. I confess, gentlemen, I was infinitely more struck by the dissimilarities that could not be explained than by certain resemblances that are to be found in documents of this sort. I kept my secret, gentlemen, but my agitation increased. Serene persons about me asked: ‘Why do you concern yourself with the matter?’ I could not help it. It is the honor of a land of liberty to concern itself with questions of justice, for, if a people wishes to be free, it must first of all be just. It is justice that guarantees liberty to all.
“But, after M. Scheurer-Kestner’s interpellation, I asked him to relieve my conscience, and to tell me all that he knew. His statements tore the veil from my eyes. He enabled me to properly compare Esterhazy’s writing with that of the bordereau. It was no longer a matter of dissimilarities to explain; it was evidence itself; and I found no difference that was astonishing. Since then I have repeated the comparison many times, not for myself and alone, but with the aid of friends. Never have I found a dissenting voice. All who have been willing to examine have been impressed by the same evidence, and I may say now, anticipating the chronological order of facts, that later the experts themselves who contributed to the preparation of the Esterhazy case had to recognize in it a large measure, although they concluded that the bordereau is not the material work of Major Esterhazy. As everybody knows, they have affirmed that the bordereau bears a striking resemblance to Major Esterhazy’s writing. Only they set up the hypothesis that this writing must be the work of a skilful forger. At any rate, these conclusions, made by the experts as well as by myself, absolutely overturned the conclusions of 1894. M. Scheurer-Kestner placed in my hands the correspondence between Lieutenant-Colonel Picquart and his superior, General Gonse, adding a series of other letters—thirteen, if I am not mistaken—that passed between the same persons after the departure of Lieutenant-Colonel Picquart from the war department. I have read them and reread them, and have often reviewed them since in my mind. They left me in no doubt, but I must declare in what measure they enlightened me. I did not find in them certain proof that General Gonse had arrived at a fixed decision to open a revision of the Dreyfus case at a certain date, but I did find in them indisputable proof that this officer admitted the possibility of revision, and gave instructions for its preparation, covering all the acts of Lieutenant-Colonel Picquart with his entire approbation. General Gonse did not say to his subordinate: ‘You are mistaken; you know it well; you have a secret file in your hands.’ He did not say to him: ‘Calm yourself; this is madness.’ No. He said: ‘Act with prudence. No irreparable steps. Do not proceed recklessly. The question is one of the highest gravity. You must conduct all your negotiations with the greatest circumspection.’ Then, on the question of expert examination, he added. ‘To submit the question to experts at this moment is to mix up third parties with the examination of the affair, under unfavorable conditions. I advise other steps.’ And he indicated these. He called attention notably to the necessity of ascertaining under what conditions the documents enumerated in the bordereau could have been communicated by the man who was suspected of being its author, and then the letter finished with recommendations of prudence and the expression of affectionate sentiments.
“M. Picquart’s reply laid down the question of revision in terms as express as possible. It was not possible, indeed, to speak in clearer and more prudent language. What did General Gonse reply? His reply was formal. He said that, in spite of the disturbing information contained in the letter, he still advised most careful procedure. But he added a declaration which to me is absolutely decisive concerning his state of mind: ‘It is not a question, of course, of stopping the light. It is a question of preparing the conditions under which the truth may be manifested.’ That was the language of a man who had not in his hands certain proof of the treason of Dreyfus. It was the language of a man whose conscience and heart were disturbed by the fears that had already invaded the mind of Colonel Picquart, and that with the latter had become absolute convictions.
“That settled the matter for me, and, when they talk of proof of judicial error, I say that it is almost absolutely acquired. Similarity of handwritings; proof that there was no certain demonstration of the guilt of Dreyfus; demonstration that our military officers were familiar with the facts, and had given their approval to investigations,—all these circumstances removed from my mind the last vestige of doubt.
“General Gonse returned from Cormeilles-en-Parisis on September 15, the day after the letter of the 14th written to him by Colonel Picquart. The same day ‘L’Eclair’ published an article in which it was said, I believe, that all veils must be torn off. ‘L’Eclair’ published a document which until then had remained a secret, and which, it said, had been produced at the deliberations of the council of war without the knowledge of Dreyfus or his counsel. This document, said ‘L’Eclair,’ had determined the condemnation. It was a letter exchanged between the military attachés of two embassies, at the foot of which were these words: ‘That animal D—— is really becoming too exacting.’ But ‘L’Eclair’ published it as follows: ‘That animal Dreyfus is really becoming too exacting.’ This, M. Scheurer-Kestner told me, was like a train of powder through the whole press. A formidable movement of opinion rose against the few persons who could still speak of what had happened in 1894. The clear proof of guilt had been found. At last timid consciences could hope; there was no longer anything to fear. Dreyfus was really a traitor, since his relations with attachés of a foreign embassy were confessed by a foreign attaché himself.
“Gentlemen, who could have communicated this document? A few days later another article was published in ‘Le Matin,’ which reproduced the bordereau and some bits of the writing of Dreyfus. Violent discussions ensued. There was a renewal of the report of attempts at escape. The government was called on to keep careful guard, and an interpellation was announced by deputy Castelin, who had collected these various rumors and intended to ask the government for an explanation as soon as the chamber should reconvene. Then, gentlemen, came a radical change in the dispositions of the minister of war. Not only was Colonel Picquart requested to cool his ardor, but it was deemed necessary to send him away from the war department. It was announced that there would be no resistance to M. Castelin’s interpellation. It was deemed impossible to make head against such a storm. And so, on the 14th, two days before the interpellation, Colonel Picquart was sent away from the department on a mission, in the course of which he finally reached Tunis. That is the explanation of this sudden about-face.
“But who had communicated the document? Not Colonel Picquart. That was impossible, for he was after a revision of the Dreyfus case, and this communication was clearly made by some one opposed to such revision. The communication to ‘L’Eclair’ was not made out of kindness for Dreyfus; it was a final blow at the condemned man, the last word that was to arch his tomb. It could not have been Dreyfus’s counsel, for his counsel did not know the document. It could not have been the experts, for they had never had it in their hands. No journalist could have obtained it, except from some one in a position to be acquainted with it. The persons in such a position were not numerous. There were six, or eight, or ten, in the department who had it at their disposal. There was certainly one of these, perhaps several, whose interest it was to thwart Colonel Picquart, and who, to this end committed this indiscretion, this criminal indiscretion, for a crime had to be committed in order to communicate the document under the circumstances in which it was reproduced by the newspaper. This newspaper, in fact, had printed the passage in the terms that I have just stated, but it is now known that the document did not say ‘That animal Dreyfus.’ It said ‘That animal D....’ It had been necessary to alter the document in order to make it more decisive. Evidently some one was bent on laying a trap for Colonel Picquart, bent on threatening him in order to make the production of his testimony impossible; some one wanted to close his mouth, and threatened to ruin him if he dared to speak. Colonel Picquart desired an investigation to determine the author, or authors, of the plots against him, and, indeed, if they had succeeded in discovering the guilty party, the whole case might have been cleared up. On December 18, 1897, I went to the minister of justice to lay the facts before him, finding, moreover, that he was not at all familiar with the situation. He promised to consult the prime minister. On December 23 he notified me that the prime minister had had an interview with the minister of war, who had promised to send to Colonel Picquart for the text of the dispatches, and compare them with the writing of an officer whom Colonel Picquart suspected. He told me that the minister of war had promised to examine these writings himself, and that later he would let me know the result. This he did on the 28th. The answer of the minister of war was that he did not consider Colonel Picquart’s suspicions well founded, and that he did not see sufficient similarity in the handwritings to warrant suspicion. I have not to inquire, gentlemen, whether he was mistaken; it is too delicate a question to be examined by me. But it is certain that, though the author of these documents could not be designated with certainty, a crime had been three times repeated in the Speranza letter of 1896 and in the two dispatches of 1897. So I expected that a supplementary investigation would be undertaken. But nothing of the kind. There was silence for several days, and then in despair Colonel Picquart decided to lodge with the public prosecutor on January 4, 1898, a formal complaint that these four documents were forged. Another week went by, and nothing was done. Major Ravary continued to think that these facts did not call for the examination solicited. Undoubtedly they had not, in his eyes, the importance that Colonel Picquart attached to them, and so on January 10, six days later, the council of war met, and, before it, was read the indictment with which you are familiar,—an indictment, astounding to say, which made not the slightest allusion to the facts which Colonel Picquart considered so serious.
“It is certain—Major Esterhazy confesses it—that a document was withdrawn from the war department,—the document which he says was delivered to him by a veiled lady. Who took away that document? What was done in the course of investigation to find out who took it away? Nothing. I pointed out to the minister of war that letters and dispatches had been sent to Colonel Picquart in order to close his mouth, telling him not to come back from Tunis, and that his future would be destroyed, if he should come back. Who sent these letters and dispatches? No attempt has been made to find out.