 Dedication, Introductory Note, and Editor's Preface to Five Years of My Life, 1894-1899, by Alfred Dreyfus, translated from the French. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Sue Anderson. Five Years of My Life, 1894-1899, by Alfred Dreyfus, translated from the French. Dedication, To My Children, Introductory Note, by Alfred Dreyfus. In the following pages I tell the story of my life during those five years in which I was cut off from the world of the living, the events which took place in France in connection with the trial of 1894, and, during the following years, remained entirely unknown to me until the trial at Renna, signed with initials A, D. Editor's Preface For the full understanding of the frequent references made by Captain Dreyfus to circumstances of his trial and the events consequent upon it, it is necessary that the reader should have in mind the principal features of the far-reaching and involved of Fair Dreyfus. For this reason it has seemed best to give the following brief synopsis of the case in its salient features. In September, 1894, the fragments of a document said to have been found in the overcoat pocket of Colonel Schwarzkoppen, German military attaché in Paris, were brought to the Intelligence Department of the French War Office. On being fitted together they constituted a report, obviously written by a spy who had access to French Army secrets. War and tactical plans of the French Army made up its substance. This was the famous Baudirot, which was the basis of the entire Dreyfus case. Captain Dreyfus was arrested and tried on a charge of treason, based on testimony that it was he who wrote the Baudirot. On the evidence of Major Dupati Duclem, who swore that Dreyfus turned pale when ordered to write excerpts from the document of two handwriting experts, one of whom, Monsieur Bertillon, head of the Criminal Identification Bureau in Paris, said that the handwriting of the Baudirot could be by no one but the prisoner, and, on the strength of certain documents, the secret dossier secretly and illegally presented as evidence unknown to the prisoner or his counsel, and vouched for by the unsupported oath of commandant Henri, Dreyfus was convicted and sentenced to solitary confinement for life. Early in January 1895, Captain Dreyfus was stripped of his insignia of rank and his punishment began. In May 1896 there came to the Intelligence Department of the War Office, over which Lieutenant Colonel Picard then presided, a special delivery card, Petit Ble, torn as the Baudirot had been into fragments, and, like the previous document, filched from the German Embassy. This was written by Colonel Schwarzkoppen and, bore the name and address of Major Esther Hazy, a soldier of fortune who had entered the French military service. Picard secured specimens of Esther Hazy's handwriting, which, he compared with that of the Baudirot, the chirography seemed the same. Petition was made about this time for a revision of Dreyfus's court-martial. Picard convinced that Esther Hazy was guilty of the crime for which Dreyfus was undergoing servitude, espoused the Dreyfus cause, and, thus brought upon himself the persecution which culminated in his imprisonment and final dismissal from the army. Then followed the Esther Hazy court-martial, the first clash of legal arms in the battle of Dreyfusards against anti-Dreyfusards, which convulsed all France. Mysterious documents and accusations of forgery on both sides played a conspicuous part in the proceedings. Esther Hazy was acquitted in January 1898 by a complacent court-martial. For two days the army and its partisans rejoiced. Then Zola's famous Jacuz letter turned their jubilation into fury. The author was arrested on a charge of libel, and eventually convicted, but in the course of his two trials, the secret dossier which played so important a part in the conviction of Captain Dreyfus was produced and read. Picard promptly declared the one document of the dossier, which was at all relevant to the case a forgery, and later offered to prove what he had said. The mercier Picard, who had been implicated in the forgery of that document, was found strangled in the cell where he had been incarcerated. Shortly after Zola's conviction, Comandant Henri was arrested on his confession of having forged that secret document. On the day following his arrest he was found in his cell with his throat cut. Suicide was the verdict. Esther Hazy was now openly charged in the newspapers with having been the author of the Bauderot, a charge which he never refuted, but he escaped punishment by fleeing to England, where he has since remained, not with standing efforts by the French courts to secure his testimony. Though Picard was in prison and other officers who had dared to express the belief that Captain Dreyfus had been illegally and unjustly convicted were cashiered for this offense, the movement for revision was steadfastly pressed. But not until 1899, after many changes of cabinets, all anti-Dreyfus-sards and made up of those who were violent partisans of the army, either by inclination or from fear of consequences, was the order for revision given by the Waldeck Grousseau ministry. The last evidence of importance adduced in the hearing of the revision was from a member of the court-martial of 1894, who testified that the secret dossier on which Captain Dreyfus was convicted was shown to the jury in the jury room while the court was in adjournment. The return of Captain Dreyfus, the final court-martial, and the conviction with extenuating circumstances followed by the pardon in the fall of 1899 were the final acts of the drama in a preliminary case. Section 1 of 5 years of my life, 1894, 1899. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Sue Anderson. 5 years of my life, 1894, 1899, by Alfred Dreyfus, translated from the French. Section 1, consisting of three parts, a sketch of my life, the arrest, and the first court-martial of 1894. Part 1, a sketch of my life. I was born at Malus in Alsace, October 9, 1859. My childhood passed happily amid the gentle influences of mother and sisters, a kind father devoted to his children, and the companionship of older brothers. My first sorrow was the Franco-Prussian War. It has never faded from my memory. When peace was concluded, my father chose the French nationality, and we had to leave Alsace. I went to Paris to continue my studies. In 1878 I was received at the Ecole Polytechnique, which in the usual order of things, I left in 1880 to enter as cadet of artillery the Ecole des Applications of Fontainebleau, where I spent the regulation two years. After graduating, on the 1st of October, 1882, I was breveted lieutenant in the 31st Regiment of Artillery in the garrison at Le Molle. At the end of the year 1883 I was transferred to the horse-batteries of the 1st Independent Cavalry Division at Paris. On the 12th of September, 1889, I received my commission of captain in the 21st Regiment of Artillery and was appointed on special service at the Ecole Centrale de Pyrotechnique militaire at Bourges. It was in the course of the following winter that I became engaged to Manmoselle Lucie Audemars, my devoted and heroic wife. During my engagement I prepared myself for the Ecole Supérieure de Guerre School for Staff Officers, where I was received the 20th of April 1890. The next day, April 21st, I was married. I left the Ecole Supérieure de Guerre in 1892 with the degree Very Good and the Brevet of Staff Officer. My rank number on leaving the Ecole entitled me to be detailed as Stagiaire, probationer, on the General Staff of the Army. I took service in the 2nd Bureau of the General Staff, the Intelligence Bureau, on the 1st of January, 1893. A brilliant and easy career was open to me. The future appeared under the most promising auspices. After my day's work I found rest and delight at home. Every manifestation of the human mind was a profound interest to me. I found pleasure in reading aloud during the long evenings passed at my wife's side. We were perfectly happy, and our first child, a boy, brightened our home. I had no material cares, and the same deep affection united me to the family of my wife as to the members of my own family. Everything in life seemed to smile on me. Part 2 The Arrest The year 1893 passed without incidents. My daughter Jean came to shed a new ray of sunshine in our home. The year 1894 was to be the last of my service in the 2nd Bureau of the General Staff of the Army. During the last quarter of the year I was named for the regulation term of service in an infantry regiment stationed in Paris. I began my term on the 1st of October. Saturday, the 13th of October, 1894, I received a service note directing me to go the following Monday at nine o'clock in the morning to the Ministry of War for the General Inspection. It was expressly stated that I should be in Tendu bourgeois civilian dress. The hours seemed to me very early for the General Inspection, which is usually passed late in the day. The mention of civilian dress surprised me as well. Still, after making these remarks while reading the note, I soon forgot them, as the matter appeared unimportant. As was our custom, my wife and I dined on Sunday evening with her parents. We came away gay and light-hearted, as we always did after these family gatherings. On Monday morning I left my family. My son Pierre, who was then three and a half years old, and was accustomed to accompany me to the door when I went out, came with me that morning as usual. That was one of my keenest remembrances through all my misfortunes. Very often in my nights of sorrow and despair I lived over the moment when I held my child in my arms for the last time. In this recollection I always found renewed strength of purpose. The morning was bright and cool, the rising sun driving away the thin mist. Everything foretold a beautiful day. As I was a little ahead of time I walked back and forth before the ministry building for a few minutes, then went upstairs. On entering the office I was received by Comandant Picard, who seemed to be waiting for me, and who took me at once into his room. I was somewhat surprised at finding none of my comrades, as officers are always called in groups to the general inspection. After a few minutes of commonplace conversation, Comandant Picard conducted me to the private office of the Chief of General Staff. I was greatly amazed to find myself received, not by the Chief of General Staff, but by Comandant Tupati Duclem, who was in uniform. Three persons in civilian dress who were utterly unknown to me were also there. These three persons were Monsieur Cauchfer, chef de la Sorote, the head of the secret police, his secretary, and the keeper of the records, Monsieur Gréblanc. Comandant Tupati Duclem came directly toward me and, said in a choking voice, the general is coming. While waiting I have a letter to write, and as my finger is sore will you write it for me? Strange as the request was under the circumstances I at once complied. I sat down at a little table, while Comandant Tupati placed himself at my side and, very near me, following my hand with his eye. After first requiring me to fill up an inspection form, he dictated to me a letter of which certain passages recalled the accusing letter that I knew afterward and which was called the Bauderot. In the course of his dictation the Comandant interrupted me sharply, saying you tremble. I was not trembling. At the court-martial of 1894 he explained his brusque interruption by saying that he had perceived I was not trembling under the dictation, leaving therefore that he had to do with one who was simulating. He had tried in this way to shake my assurance. This vehement remark surprised me greatly, as did the hostile attitude of Comandant Tupati. But, as all suspicion was far from my mind, I thought only that he was displeased at my writing it badly. My fingers were cold, for the temperature outside was chilly, and I had been only a few minutes in the warm room, so I answered, my fingers are cold. As I continued writing without any sign of perturbation, Comandant Tupati tried a new interruption and said violently, pay attention, it is a grave matter. Whatever may have been my surprise at a procedure as rude as it was uncommon, I said nothing and simply applied myself to writing more carefully. Thereupon, Comandant Tupati, as he explained to the court-martial of 1894, concluded that my self-possession being unshakable, it was useless to push the experiment further. The scene of the dictation had been prepared in every detail, but it had not answered the expectations of those who had arranged it. As soon as the dictation was over, Comandant Tupati arose, and, placing his hand on my shoulder, cried out in a loud voice, in the name of the law I arrest you, you are accused of the crime of high treason. A thunderbolt falling at my feet would not have produced in me a more violent emotion. I blurted out disconnected sentences, protesting against so infamous an accusation which nothing in my life could have given rise to. Next M. Colchfair and his secretary threw themselves on me and searched me. I did not offer the slightest resistance, but cried to them, take my keys, open everything in my house, I am innocent. Then I added, show me at least the proofs of the infamous act you pretend I have committed. They answered that the accusations were overwhelming, but refused to state what they were or who had made them. I was then taken to the military prison on the Houdesh-Medhi by Comandant Henri, accompanied by one of the detectives. On the way Comandant Henri, who knew perfectly well what had passed, for he was hidden behind a curtain during the whole scene, asked me of what I was accused. My reply was made the substance of a report by Comandant Henri, a report whose falsity was evident from the very questioning to which I had been subjected and which I was again to undergo in a few days. On my arrival in the prison I was incarcerated in a cell whose solitary grated window looked on the convict's yard. I was placed in the strictest solitary confinement and all communication with my people was forbidden me. I had at my disposal neither paper, pen, and ink nor pencil. During the first days I was subjected to the regime of the convicts, but this illegal measure was afterwards done away with. The men who brought me my food were always accompanied by the sergeant on guard and the chief guard, who had the only key of my cell constantly in his possession. To speak to me was absolutely forbidden to anyone but the director of the prison. When I found myself in that gloomy cell, still under the terrific influence of the scene I had just gone through, and of the monstrous accusation brought against me, when I thought of all those whom I had left at home but a few hours before in the fullness of happiness, I fell into a state of fearful excitement and raved from grief. I walked back and forth in the narrow space, knocking my head against the walls. Comandant Forcinetti, director of the prison, came to see me, accompanied by the chief guard, and calmed me for a little while. I am happy to be able to give here expression to my deep gratitude to Comandant Forcinetti, who found means to unite with his strict duty as a soldier the highest sentiments of humanity. During the seventeen days which followed, I was subjected to frequent cross examination by Comandant Dupati, who acted as officer of judicial police. He always came in very late in the evening, accompanied by Grable, who was acting as his clerk. He dictated to me bits of sentences taken from the incriminating letter, or passed rapidly under my eyes in the light words or fragments of words taken from the same letter, asking me whether or not I recognized the handwriting. Besides all that has been recorded of these examinations, he made all sorts of veiled, mysterious allusions to facts unknown to me, and would finally go away theatrically, leaving my brain bewildered by the tangle of insoluble riddles. During all this time I was ignorant of the basis of the accusation, and in spite of most urgent demands I could obtain no light on the monstrous charge brought against me, I was fighting the empty air. That my brain did not give way during these endless days and nights was not the fault of Comandant Dupati. I had neither paper nor ink with which to fix my ideas. I was every moment turning over in my head fragments of sentences which I had drawn from him, and which only led me further astray. But no matter what my tortures may have been, my conscience was awake and unerringly dictated my duty to me. If you die, it said to me, they will believe you guilty. Whatever happens, you must live to cry aloud your innocence in the face of the world. It was only on the fifteenth day after my arrest that Comandant Dupati showed me a photograph of the accusing letter since called the Bodaro. I did not write this letter, nor was I in any way responsible for it. When my examination by Comandant Dupati had been closed, the order was given by General Mercier, Minister of War, to open a regular instruction, a general investigation, chiefly conducted by the secret military police of my past life. My conduct, however, was beyond reproach. There was nothing in my life, actions or relations on which to base any ignoble suspicion. On the third of November, General Mercier, military governor of Paris, signed the order for an official preliminary investigation of the case for the court. This preliminary investigation was entrusted to Comandant d'Orme Cheville, rapporteur or examining judge of the first court-martial of Paris. He was unable to bring an exact charge. His report was a tissue of illusions and lying insinuations. Justice was done to it even by the members of the court-martial of 1894. For at the last session, the commissaire du gouvernement, Judge Advocate, wound up his speech for the prosecution by acknowledging that there remained no charge of any kind. Everything had disappeared except the border row. The prefecture of police, having made investigations concerning my private life, handed in an official report that was favorable in every respect. The detective Guerni, who was attached to the information service of the Ministry of War, produced, on the other side, an anonymous report made up exclusively of Columbia's stories. Only his last report was produced at the trial of 1894. The official report of the prefecture of police, which had been entrusted to Henri, had disappeared. The magistrates of the Supreme Court found the minutes of it in the records of the prefecture and made the truth known in 1899. After seven weeks of the investigation, during which I remained, as before, in the strictest solitary confinement, the Judge Advocate, Comandant Brzee, moved on the third of December, 1894, for an indictment, the presumption being sufficiently established. These presumptions were based on the contradictory reports of the handwriting experts, two of whom, Monsieur Gaubert, expert of the Bank of France, and Monsieur Peltier, pronounced in my favor. The other two, Monsieur's Tessonneur and Charovay, decided against me, while admitting the numerous points of dissimilarity between the handwriting of the Baudirot and my own. Monsieur Bertillon, who was not an expert, pronounced against me on the ground of pretended scientific reasons. Everyone knows that at the trial of Renna in 1899, Monsieur Charovay publicly and with solemnity acknowledged his error. On the fourth of December, 1894, General Sacier, military governor of Paris, signed the order for the trial. I was then put in communication with Maître de Mange, whose admirable devotion remained unchanged to the end. All this time they refused me the right of seeing my wife. On the fifth of December, I at last received permission to write her an open letter. Tuesday, December 5, 1894. My dear Lucy, at last I can send you word. I have just been told that my trial is set for the nineteenth of this month. I am denied the right to see you. I will not tell you all that I have suffered. There are not in the world words strong enough to give expression to it. Do you remember when I used to tell you how happy we were? Everything in life smiled on us. Then, of a sudden, came a thunderbolt which left my brain reeling, to be accused of the most monstrous crime that a soldier can commit. Even today I feel that I must be the victim of some frightful nightmare. But I trust in God's justice. In the end truth must prevail. My conscience does not reproach me. I have always done my duty. Never have I turned from it. Crushed down in this somber cell, alone with my reeling brain, I have had moments when I have been beside myself. But even then my conscience was on guard. Hold up thy head, it said to me. Look the world in the face. Strong in thy consciousness of right. Rise up. Go straight on. This trial is frightfully bitter, but it must be endured. I embrace you a thousand times, as I love you, as I adore you, my darling Lucy. A thousand kisses to the children. I dare not say more about them to you. The tears come into my eyes when I think of them. The day before the trial opened I wrote her the following letter, which expresses the entire confidence I had in the loyalty and conscientiousness of the judges. Quote, I am come at last to the end of my sufferings. Tomorrow I shall appear before my judges, my head high, my sole tranquil. I am ready to appear before soldiers as a soldier who has nothing with which to reproach himself. They will see in my face, they will read in my soul, they will know that I am innocent, as all will know who know me. The trial I have undergone, terrible as it has been, has purified my soul. I shall return to you better than I was before. I want to consecrate to you, to my children, to our dear families, all that remains of life to me. Devoted to my country, to which I have consecrated all my strength, all my intellect, I have nothing to fear. Sleep quietly then, my darling, and do not give way to any apprehension. Think only of our joy when we are once more in each other's arms. On the 19th of December, 1894, began the trial which, in spite of the strong protests of my lawyer, took place behind closed doors. I ardently desired that sitting should be public in order that my innocence might shine forth in the full light of day. When I was brought into the courtroom accompanied by a lieutenant of the Republican Guard, I saw hardly anything and understood nothing. Unmindful of all that was passing around me, my mind was completely taken up with the frightful nightmare which had been weighing on me for so many long weeks, with that monstrous accusation of treason, the inane emptiness of which I was to prove. My only conscious impression was that on the platform at the end of the room were the members of the court-martial, officers like myself, comrades before whom I was at last to be able to make plain my innocence. Behind them against the walls stood the substitute judges and Comandante Picard, who represented the minister of war. Monsieur Le Pen, prefect of police, was there also, and, facing the judges on the opposite side of the room from me, sat Comandante Prisé, judge advocate, and the clerk Valkal. After taking a seat in front of my counsel, made to Dimage, I looked at my judges. They were impassive. Made to Dimage's fight to obtain from the court a public hearing, the violent interruptions of the president of the court-martial, the clearing of the courtroom, all these first incidents of the trial never turned my mind from the sole aim to which it was directed. I wanted to be brought face to face with my accusers. I was on fire with impatience to defend my honour and destroy the wretched arguments of an infamous accusation. I heard the false and hateful testimony of Comandante du Partidu-Clem and the lies of Comandante Henri in regard to the conversation we had had on the way from the ministry of war to the Chershmidi prison on the day of my arrest. I energetically, though calmly, refuted their accusations. But when the latter returned a second time to the witness stand, when he said that he knew, from a most honourable personage, that an officer of the second bureau was a traitor, I arose in indignation and passionately demanded that the person, whose language he was quoting, should be made to appear in court. Thereupon, striking his breast with a theatrical gesture, Henri added, when an officer has such a secret in his head he does not confide it, even to his cap. Then, turning to me, as to the traitor he said, there he is. Notwithstanding my vehement protests, I could obtain no explanation of his words, and consequently I was powerless to show their utter falsity. I heard the contradictory reports of the handwriting experts, two testifying in my favour, and the other two against me, at the same time bearing witness to the numerous points of difference between the handwriting of the Baudirot and my own. I attached no importance to the testimony of Bertillon, for his so-called scientific mathematical demonstrations seemed to me the work of a crazy man. All charges were refuted during these sessions. No motif could be found to explain so abominable a crime. In the fourth and last session, the judge advocate abandoned all minor charges, retaining for the accusation only the Baudirot. This document he waved aloft, shouting, nothing remains but the Baudirot, but that is enough. Let the judges take up their magnifying glasses. Maitre-Dommage, in his eloquent speech for the defense, refuted the reports of the experts, showed all their contradictions, and ended by asking how it was possible that such an accusation could have been built up without any motive having been produced. To me, it all seemed certain. I was found guilty. I learned, four and a half years later, that the good faith of the judges had been abused by the testimony of Henri, he who afterward became a forgerer, as well as by the communication in the courtroom of secret documents unknown to the accused and his counsel, documents of which some did not apply to him while the rest were forgeries. The secret communication of these documents to the members of the court marshal in the counsel chamber was ordered by General Mercier. End of part three, end of section one. Section two of five years of my life, 1894-1899. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Sue Anderson. Five years of my life, 1894-1899, by Alfred Dreyfus, translated from the French, section two, consisting of two parts, after the condemnation by Alfred Dreyfus, and Captain Dreyfus at the Chershmidi prison, a note by Comandant Forcinetti. Part one, after the condemnation. My despair knew no bounds. The night which followed my condemnation was one of the bitterest of my embittered existence. I revolved in my mind the most extravagant plans. I was stunned by the iniquity, revolted by the atrocity of the case. But the memory of my wife and children prevented my killing myself, and I resolved to wait. The next day I wrote the following letter to my wife. My darling, I suffer much, but I pity you still more than I pity myself. I know how much you love me. Your heart must bleed. On my side, my beloved, my thought has always been of you, day and night, to have lived a stainless life and then to be condemned for the most hateful crime a soldier can commit. What could be more terrible, to have had to bear all that was said to me when I knew in my soul and conscience that I had never failed, that was atrocious torture. It is for you alone that I have resisted until today. It is for you alone, my beloved, that I have borne my long agony. I would air this have ended this sad life, if thoughts of you, if the fear of augmenting your grief had not stayed my hand. Will my strength hold out until the end? I cannot tell. No one but you can give me courage. It is your love alone that inspires my fortitude. I have signed my appeal for a revision. No matter what may become of me, search for the truth. Move earth and heaven to discover it. Sink all our fortune, if need be, in the effort to restore my good name, now dragged in the mud. No matter what may be the cost, we must rid ourselves of this unmerited infamy. I have not the courage to write more. I dare not speak to you of the children. The thought of them rends my heart. Tell me about them. May they be your consolation. Embrace them, and our dear relatives, everyone, for me. Alfred. Try to obtain permission to see me. It seems to me that it cannot be denied you now. On the same day my wife wrote me, December 23, 1894, what wretchedness, what torture what ignomy. We are all terrified, utterly crushed. I know how courageous you are, you unhappy martyr. I beseech you. Continue to endure valiantly these new tortures. Our fortune, our lives all shall be devoted to seeking out the guilty ones. We shall find them. It must be done. You shall be rehabilitated. We have passed together nearly five years of perfect happiness. Let us live in the remembrance of them. Someday justice will be done, and we shall be happy together and our children will love you the more. We shall make of your son a man like yourself. I could not choose a better example for him. I hope I shall be permitted to see you. In any event, be certain of one thing. I shall follow, no matter how far away they may send you. I do not know if the law allows me to accompany you, but it cannot prevent my joining you, and I shall do so. Once again be brave. You must live for our children, and for me. December 23 evening. I have just had, in the midst of my immense sorrow, the joy of receiving news from you and of hearing Maitre Demange speak, in terms so warm and heartfelt, that my poor heart has been comforted. You know how much I love you, my dear husband. Our great unhappiness, the infamy and disgrace of which we are the victims, only bind closer the ties of our affection. Wherever you go, wherever they send you, I will follow. Together we shall endure more easily our exile. We shall live each for the other. We shall bring up our children and give them souls well tempered against the vicissitudes of life. I cannot go on without you. You are my comfort, the only hope of forgiveness, which remains to me is to end my life beside you. You are a martyr, and you have still to suffer the infliction of a hateful punishment. Promise me that you will endure it with courage. You are strong in your innocence. Imagine that some other than yourself is suffering the disgrace, except the undeserved punishment. Do it for me, for your wife who thinks only of you. Give me this testimony of your affection. Do it for our children. Someday they will bless you for it. They embrace you and ask often for their father. Poor little ones. Lucy. It was without hope that I had signed my appeal for a new trial before the military court of appeal. Revision could be demanded of this tribunal only on the ground of flaws in the legal formalities of the court-martial that had condemned me. I was not then aware that the commission had been illegally procured. I learned of it only in 1899. The days passed in anguish and suspense. I was tossed to and fro between my duty and the horror with which a punishment as disgraceful as it was undeserved inspired me. My wife, who had been unable as yet to obtain permission to see me, wrote long letters encouraging me to support the coming, frightful ordeal of the military degradation. December 24, 1894 I suffer beyond all that can be imagined from the horrid tortures you are undergoing. My thoughts do not leave you for a moment. I see you alone in your prison. I pray to the gloomiest thoughts. I compare our years of happiness, the dear days we have passed together with this present time. How happy we were! How good and devoted you have been to me! With what beautiful devotion you cared for me when I was ill! What a father you were to our little ones! All this passes and repasses before my mind. I am wretched not to have you near me, to feel that we are separated. Dear heart, it must be, it must absolutely be, that we shall find ourselves together again, that we shall live each for the other, for we cannot exist apart. It must be that you will resign yourself to everything, that you will endure the terrible trials which await you, that you will be steadfast and proud in misfortune. December 25 I weep and weep and cannot cease weeping. Your letters alone bear comfort to me in the extremity of my grief. Alone they uphold and console me. Live for me, I beseech you, dear heart, summon all your strength and determination. Together we will maintain the struggle till the guilty one is found. What will become of me without you? Nothing else binds me to the world. I should die of grief if I had not the hope of finding myself near you once again, and passing long, happy years of the future at your side. Our children are delightful. Your poor little peer asks for you so often, and I can answer him only by my tears. Again this morning he asked if you would come back tonight. I am so tired of waiting for my papa, he said to me. Jean is changing wonderfully. She talks so much better, makes sentences, and is going prettier. Courage, you shall have us all back some day. December 26, 1894 I went myself to bring your things to the prison. When I entered the place where you are undergoing your martyrdom, I felt better for a moment at the thought of being nearer to you. I should have liked to break through the cold walls that separated us, that I might see and embrace you. Unhappily there are obstacles before which the spirit is powerless. Situations which neither physical nor moral strength can master. I am waiting very impatiently for the moment when they will permit us to throw ourselves into each other's arms. I ask of you the sacrifice of living for me, for our children, and to struggle until you are rehabilitated. I should die of grief if you were to die. I should not have the strength to keep up a battle in which you only of all the world can strengthen me. December 27, 1894 I never worry of writing and talking to you. These are my only good moments. I can only do that and weep. Your letters do me so much good. I bless you for them. Continue to spoil me. I shall give the children playthings as coming from you, yet they do not need these to make them think of you. You were so good to them that the little ones did not forget you. Pierre always asks after you, and in the morning they both come to my room to look at your picture. Poor boy, how you must suffer not to see them. But be of good cheer. The day will come when we shall be all together, all happy, and you shall be able to be with and caress them again. I beseech you not to worry about what the public thinks. You know how opinions change. Let it be enough for you to know that all your friends, all those who know you, are on your side. Many intelligent persons realize that there is a mystery and are trying to unravel it. December 31, 1894 I see that you have renewed your courage. By so doing you have given some of it to me. Undergo bravely the bitter ordeal. Hold up your head and cry aloud your innocence in the face of your executioners. Once this horrible punishment is over, I shall devote to you all my love and tenderness and gratitude to help you to undergo what remains. A man whose conscience is absolutely clear, and who is strengthened by the conviction that he has always, at all times, done his duty, cannot but have hope in the future. Such a man is able to endure all things. Lucy On the 31st of December, 1894, I learned that my appeal for a new trial had been refused. That very evening, commandant to Partidu Clem presented himself at the prison. He came to question me once more and to ask if I had not committed an actiom or a massage, some imprudent deed, some action for drawing others on. My only answer was to protest with the same energy as ever that I was innocent. As soon as he was gone I wrote the following letter to the minister of war. I have received the call you have ordered commandant to Partidu Clem to make on me, and have again told him that I am innocent, and that I have never committed the slightest imprudence of any sort. I am condemned, I have no favors of any kind to ask, but in the name of my honor, which I hope will be given back to me some day, it is my duty to ask you to continue your researches. After my departure, let the search continue. That is the only favor I solicit. I next wrote to Maitre Demage to give him an account of the visit. I had already informed my wife that my petition was refused. Monday, December 31st, 1894. My dear Lucy, my appeal is rejected as might have been expected. I have just been told of it. Ask immediately for permission to see me. The cruel and horrible anguish is approaching. I am going to meet it with the dignity of a pure conscience. To tell you that I do not suffer would be to lie. But I shall not weaken, Alfred. My wife answered. January 1st, 1895. I sent yesterday afternoon to the office of the military governor of Paris my request. The reply has been waited for in vain. If my permit to see you only come to-morrow, what reason can they have for refusing it now, except cruelty and barbarity? My poor husband, to have a noble soul like yours with such feelings of lofty patriotism, and then to see yourself fiercely tortured and compelled, though innocent, to pay the penalty for the coward who hides himself behind his infamy. If there is such a thing as justice, it must surely be that the traitor will be discovered and the truth known some day. Lucy. At last my wife was allowed to see me. The interview took place in the prison parlor. It was a dark room divided in the middle by two parallel, lattice gradings. On the further side of one of these gradings stood my wife, while I was forced to remain behind the second grading. It was under such painful conditions that, after so many sourful weeks, we looked into each other's eyes. I was unable to embrace her, to hold her in my arms. We had to talk at a distance. Yet how great was my joy at seeing again her beloved face. I tried to read it and to decipher the traces left there by suffering and grief. When she had gone, unable to resist the desire to talk with her again, I wrote her as follows. Wednesday, five o'clock. My darling, I must write these few words that you may find them tomorrow on awakening. Our talk, even through the prison bars, has done me good. Such was my emotion when we parted that my trembling knees would barely sustain me. Even now my hand is far from steady. That interview has so shaken me. If I did not insist that you should stay longer, it was because I had reached the limit of my self-control and was obliged to go away to hide my tears. Do not infer from this that my soul is the less strong. It is only that my body is somewhat weakened by the three months of imprisonment. What has done me the most good is to feel that you are so courageous, so full of affection for me. Keep up, my dear wife. Let us compel the respect of the world by our attitude. As to me you must have felt that I am ready for everything. I want my honor and will have it. No obstacle can stop me. Express my thanks to everyone. Thank Maitre Dommage for all he has done for an innocent man. Tell him what infinite gratitude I have for him. I have been unable to express it myself. Tell him I look forward to his help in the coming fight for my honor, Alfred. The first interview had taken place in the parlor of the prison. The circumstances gave it so tragic a character that Comandant for Sinetti asked and obtained permission to let me see my wife in his own office in his presence. Lucy came to see me a second time. It was then I gave her the promise to live and to face with courage the agony of that terrible ceremony which awaited me. I also saw for a few moments my brother Matthew, whose admirable devotion I knew. On Thursday, the third of January, 1895, I learned that the degradation was set for the fifth. Thursday morning, my dearest, I am told that the culminating humiliation is set for the day after tomorrow. I had been looking for that news. I was prepared for it, but the blow was terrible nevertheless. I shall endure it as I promised you I would. I shall draw the force I need for that awful day from the deep well of your love, from the affection of you all, from the memory of our little ones, from the supreme hope that, someday, the truth will be known. But on every side I need the warmth of the affection that you all bear me. I must feel that you are struggling with me. Search always. Let there be no cessation, no falterings. Alfred. End of Part 1. Part 2. Captain Dreyfus at the Shersh-Midi Prison. Editor's Note. The following note by Commandant Forcinetti, the head of the Shersh-Midi Prison, shows Captain Dreyfus as he appeared to un-prejudiced eyes during the trying times of his indictment and conviction. Captain Dreyfus at the Shersh-Midi Prison. On October 14, 1894, I received a secret message from the Minister of War, informing me that on the morrow, at 7 p.m., a superior officer would arrive at the prison to make a confidential communication. Lieutenant Colonel Diabboville arrived in the morning and handed me a message dated the 14th, informing me that Captain Dreyfus of the 14th artillery, probationer on the general staff, would be incarcerated in the morning, charged with a crime of high treason, and that I was to be held responsible for him. Colonel Diabboville asked me to give him my word of honor to execute the orders both verbal and written of the Minister. One of the communications ordered me to place the prisoner in the most complete secrecy and not to allow him to have by him either paper, ink, pens, penknife, or pencil. He was likewise to be fed like an ordinary criminal, but this measure was annulled later on as I pointed out that it was irregular. The Colonel ordered me to take whatever precautions I might think necessary for keeping the fact of Captain Dreyfus's presence there secret. He asked me to visit the apartment's destine for officers at the prison and select the room to be occupied by Captain Dreyfus. He put me on my guard against the probable efforts of the upper judom as soon as they should hear of the imprisonment. I saw no one, and no such efforts were made in my case at all events. I may add that all the time the prisoner was in the Shershmadi prison, I never entered or remained in his cell without being accompanied by the chief military police officer at the prison, who alone had the key in his possession. Toward noon Captain Dreyfus arrived in civilian clothes, accompanied by Comandant Henri and an agent of the secret police. Comandant Henri gave the order of imprisonment, which was signed by the minister himself, and the fact that it was dated the 14th proves that the arrest had been decided upon before the captain had been called to the ministry of war and charged with the crime of high treason. The chief military police officer of the prison, to whom I had given my instructions, took the captain to the cell which had been selected for him. From that moment Dreyfus was entombed alive between its four walls. No one could see him. The door of his cell could be opened only in my presence during the entire length of his stay in the Shershmadi prison. Shortly afterward I went to see Captain Dreyfus. He was in a state of extraordinary excitement. He looked like a madman. His eyes were bloodshot and the things in his room had been upset. I had great difficulty in calming him. I had then the intuition that this officer was innocent. He begged me to give him writing materials or to write myself to ask the minister of war for an audience, either of him or of one of the staff officers. He told me the details of his arrest, which were neither dignified nor military. Between the 18th and 24th of October Major Dupattidu Clem, who had arrested Dreyfus at the office, came twice with a special authorization from the minister to examine him. Before seeing Dreyfus he asked me if he could not enter his cell softly, carrying a lamp powerful enough to throw a blaze of light on the face of the prisoner, whom he wished to surprise and embarrass. I said this was impossible. He had two sittings with him and each time dictated to him passages from the incriminating document with the object of comparing the handwriting. Captain Dreyfus was still frightfully excited. From the corridor he was heard to groan, to talk in loud tones and to protest his innocence. He struck against the furniture and the walls and appeared not to know when he had injured himself. He had not a moment's rest, nor his sufferings. He flung himself, dressed upon the bed. His sleep was haunted by horrible nightmares. In fact, he struggled so in his sleep that he often fell out of bed. During these nine days of agony he took nothing but beef, tea, and sweetened wine. On the morning of the twenty-fourth his mental state bordering on madness appeared to me so grave in his face. In the afternoon I went to see General de Bois-Defra, having been ordered to do so, and accompanied him to the minister. In response to the general's question, I replied unhesitatingly, you are off the track, this officer is not guilty. This was my conviction then, and it has only been confirmed since. The general went in alone to see the minister, but came out shortly afterward, looking much annoyed, and said, the minister is off to his niece's wedding, and gives me carte blanche, try to manage with Dreyfus until he gets back, then he will deal with the question himself. I was inclined to think that General de Bois-Defra had nothing to do with the matter, but, nevertheless, ordered me to have the captain secretly visited by the prison doctor, who prescribed calming potions and recommended that constant watch be kept over him. From the twenty-seventh on, Major de Partidu-Clem came almost daily to examine him, and to obtain copies of his handwriting, his one object now tested. Up to the day when the poor man was handed over to the judge-reporter of the court-martial, he knew that he was accused of high treason, but had no idea of the specific nature of the charge. The preparation of the indictment was long and minute, and all the wild Dreyfus so little believed that he would be sent up for trial, much less condemned, that more than once asked for, I shall solicit a declaration and resign. This is what I said to Major Dupati, who put it into his report. He could not find a single proof against me, for there can be none any more than could the reporter who proceeds by inductions and suppositions without saying anything precise or definite. A few moments before appearing in court, he said, I hope that finally my case will end, and that I shall soon be back in the bosom of my family. Unfortunately, this was not to be. After the verdict, Dreyfus was taken back at about midnight to his room where I awaited him. Unseen me, he exclaimed, my only crime is to have been born a Jew. To this life of work and toil has brought me great heavens, why do I have to resign as my people wished? Such was his despair that, fearing a fatal ending, I had to redouble my vigilance. On the morrow his counsel came to see him. On entering the room, Major Dimage opened his arms, and in tears embracing him said, my poor boy, your condemnation is the greatest infamy of the century. I was quite upset. From this moment on I had heard nothing from his family, was authorized to correspond with them, but under the supervision of the judge advocate. I was present at the only two interviews which he had with his wife, and at that with his mother-in-law. They were affecting. After Dreyfus's appeal Major Dupati came back with a special authorization from the minister, allowing inquired as to the prisoner's Itadam, he went into his room ordering the chief policeman of the prison service to remain within call in case of necessity. In this last interview, as is shown by a letter written immediately by Dreyfus to the minister of war, Major Dupati sought to obtain a confession of guilt, or at least of an imprudent act of laying a trap. Dreyfus replied that never had he made any such attempt and that he was innocent. On the fourth of January 1895 I was relieved of the heavy responsibility that had been laid upon me. After having shaken hands with Captain Dreyfus, I handed him over to the gendarmes, who led him away, handcuffed to the military school, where he underwent while proclaiming his innocence the degradation, a torture more terrible than death or exile. I have had to fulfill a mission that was extremely painful, having lived, so to speak, for nearly three months the very existence of this poor man, for I had received formal orders to be present at all his meals, which I was to watch over most carefully, lest any writing reach him from outside, hidden in his food. During the years I have spent as the head of various military prisons, I have acquired a great experience of prisoners, and I do not fear to say and to say deliberately that a terrible mistake has been made. I have never regarded Captain Dreyfus as a trader to his country and uniform. From the very first my immediate chiefs and others knew my opinion, I affirmed it in the presence of political personages, as well as of numerous officers of every rank, of journalists and of men of letters. I will go even further. The government as well knew my opinion, for on the eve of the ceremony of the degradation, the head of one of the departments of the home office came to see me, sent by his minister, Monsieur Dupuis, to ask me for the same reply. This official certainly repeated it to his chiefs. Now I assert that up to the fifth of last November, never did I receive from any of my chiefs the slightest intimation or order to keep silent, and that I have always continued to proclaim the innocence of Dreyfus, who is the victim either of an inexplicable fatality or of imagination or of imagination. I must say also that if Dreyfus did not commit suicide it was not from cowardice, but because he was so placed as to be absolutely incapable of doing so, and because he yielded to my exhortations and the supplications of his despairing family. All convictions are worthy of respect when they are disinterested and sincere, and it will be admitted that if there are people convinced of the guilt, there are also as I can affirm a very great number in the upper civil and military circles who, like me, and to the same extent, are convinced of the innocence of Dreyfus, but fear of consequences has prevented them from saying so publicly. I have not cared to be of any use. An eminent politician, still a member of parliament whom I must not name said to me, the Dreyfus trial is an anti-Semite trial grafted upon a political trial. This is my opinion. God grant that the poor man who is wearing out his life in agony on a rocky isle may one day be rehabilitated for the honor of his family, of his children, and also for the honor of our army, for Zanetti, commandant, retired, ex-governor of the Paris military prisons. End of part two. End of section two. Section three of five years of my life, 1894, 1899. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public section. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Sue Anderson. Five years of my life, 1894, 1899 by Alfred Dreyfus, translated from the French. Section three the degradation consisting of two parts the degradation by Alfred Dreyfus and a newspaper account of the degradation. Part one, the degradation. The degradation took place Saturday, the fifth of January. I underwent the horrible torture without weakness. Before the ceremony, I waited for an hour in the hall of the garrison adjutant at the Ecole Militaire, guarded by the captain of gendarmes, Libra Renaud. During these days, I gathered up all the forces of my being. The memory of the dreadful months which I had just passed came back to me. And in broken sentences, I recalled to the captain, the last visit which commandant to Petit du Clem had made me in my prison. I protested against the vile accusation which had been brought against me. I recalled that I had written again to the minister to tell me the majesty of these words that Libra Renaud, with singular lack of conscience, created or allowed to be created, that legend of confession of which I learned the existence only in January, 1899. If they had spoken to me about it before my departure from France, which did not take place until February, 1895, that is, more than seven weeks after the degradation, I should have tried to strangle this calumny in its infancy. After this, I was marched to the center of the square under a guard of four men and a corporal. Nine o'clock struck. General Deraud, commanding the parade, gave the order to carry arms. I suffered agonizingly, but held myself erect with all my strength. To sustain me, I called up the memory of my wife and children. As soon as the sentence had been read out, I cried aloud, addressing myself to the troops. Soldiers, they are degrading an innocent man. Soldiers, they are dishonoring an innocent man. Vive la France. Long live France. Long live the army. A sergeant of the Republican guard came up to me. He tore off rapidly, buttons, trouser stripes, the signs I ranked from cap and sleeves, and then broke my sword across his knee. I saw all these material emblems of my honor fall at my feet. Then my whole being wracked by a fearful paroxysm. But with body erect and head high, I shouted again and again to the soldiers and to the assembled crowd, the cry of my soul, I am innocent. The parade continued. I was compelled to make the whole round of the square. I heard the howls of a deluded mob. I felt the thrill which I knew must be running through these people, since they believed that before them was a convicted traitor to France, and I struggled to transmit to their hearts another thrill, belief in my life. The round of the square made the torture would be over, I believed. But the agony of that long day was only beginning. They tied my hands in a prison van took me to the depot, central prison of Paris, passing over the Alma Bridge. On coming to the end of the bridge, I saw through the tiny grating of my hands spent, where I was leaving all my happiness behind me. My grief bowed me down. At the central prison, in my torn and stripped uniform, I was dragged from hall to hall, searched, photographed, and measured. At last, toward noon, I was taken to the Sante prison, and shut up in a convict cell. My wife was permitted to rise a week in the private office of the prison director. The latter, by the way, showed himself strictly just and fair during my whole stay. Nothing can better give the impressions of my wife and myself during the sad days I passed in the Sante prison than our correspondence, of which I give a few extracts. January 5, 1895 My darling, in promising you to live until my name is rehabilitated, I have made the greatest sacrifice that can be made by an honest man. Sometime, when we are reunited, I will tell you what I have suffered today, as I went through, one after another, those ignominious stations of my calvary. Again and again, I wondered to myself, why are you here? I seemed to myself to be the victim of an hallucination. Then my torn, dishonored garments would bring me brutally back to reality. The looks of hate and scorn told me only too plainly why I was there. Oh, why could not my heart have been laid open, so that all may have read it, so that all those poor people along my route would have this is a man of honor. How well I understood them. In their place I could not have restrained my contempt for an officer branded a traitor to his country. But alas, here is the pitiful tragedy. There is a traitor, but it is not I. January 5, 1895, Saturday evening, seven o'clock. I have just had a spasm of tears and sobs with my whole body shaken by a violent chill. It was the reaction from the tortures of the day. It had to come. But alas, instead of crying in your arms, my head buried in your breast, my sobs have resounded in the emptiness of my prison. It is over. Bear up my heart. I owe myself to my family. I owe myself to my name. I have not the right to give up. While there remains a breath of life I will struggle. Alfred. From my wife, Saturday evening, January 5, 1895. What a horrible morning. What fearful moments. No, I cannot think of them. It makes me suffer too much. My poor husband, that you, a man of honor, you who adore France, who have so high a sense of duty, should undergo the most disgraceful punishment that can be inflicted on a Frenchman, it is unendurable. You promised me to be courageous. You have kept your word and I bless you for it. The dignity of your attitude has impressed many. And when the hour of rehabilitation comes, the sufferings you have endured will be engraved upon the memories of men. I should so have wished to have been near you, to give you strength and comfort. I had so much hope to see you, my beloved one. My heart bleeds at the thought that my permit has not yet come and that I must perhaps wait a while before having the delight of clasping you in my arms. Our darling children are very, very good. They are very happy. It is a comfort in our measureless misfortune to have them so young and unconscious of the events that surround them. Pierre speaks of you with such wistful ardor that I cannot help breaking down sometimes. Lucy. From the Santé prison, January 6th, 1895, Sunday, 5 o'clock. Forgive me, my beloved, if in my letters yesterday I poured the display of my torture. I had to convide them to someone. And what heart is better prepared than yours to receive the outpouring of my grief? It is your love that gives me courage to live. I must feel the thrill of your love close to my heart. Courage, then, my darling, do not think too much of me. You have other duties to fulfill. If you preserve your strength, you will discharge them all. You must therefore struggle against yourself, summon up all your energy, think only of your duties. Alfred. From my wife, Sunday, January 6th, 1895, I am greatly distressed at not having yet received news from you. I am anxious to know how you bore up under these fearful moments. Your two letters have just come. They are so consoling. I feel in them all your rectitude and tenderness of heart. You spoil me, and I thank you for it. I must not tell you how the thought of this last ordeal has tormented me, and what excruciating pangs I have felt at the thought of you. My God, what a life! I expected you to have that moment of reaction, that uncontrollable spasm of grief. I am sure that it has done you good to weep. Poor boy, we were so happy. We lived so peacefully and only for each other. We thought but of the happiness of our parents and children. If only I could be with you, remaining in your cell and living your life, I should be almost happy. I should at least have the great solace of helping to comfort you a little. My boundless affection would console you, and I would surround you with every care a loving wife can bestow. But I beseech you, keep up your courage, do not allow yourself to be cast down. Monday, January 7th, 1895 My first concern as soon as I rise is to come and talk with you for a little and try to send a wee ray of warmth into your gloomy cell. I suffer so much at knowing that while you are so unhappy, I am unable to comfort you. Everything about and all that passes before me which is not of you is to me as if it did not exist. I can think but of you. I wish to live only for you and in the hope of being with you soon again. Ah, if I could but see you, remain with and help you to forget a little adversity, what would I not give for that? January 7th, evening What can I say but that I think only of you, that I speak only of you, that all my soul and all my mind reach out to you? Do not let grief destroy you but bend all your force of character to retain your health. We all are convinced there is no error but will be discovered some day and the guilty one will be found and our efforts crowned with success. Lucy From the Prison of the Santé Tuesday, January 8th, 1895 In the moments of my deepest sadness, in my moments of violent crisis a star comes suddenly to shine upon my mind and beam upon me. It is your image, my darling for me, I shall find patients to wait till they give me back my honor, Alfred. From my wife Tuesday, January 8th, 1895 wildly agitated at having no news from you I passed a miserable night. This morning I received your dear letter of Saturday and it has done me good. I do not at all understand how your letters take so long a time to reach me. I have just received permission to see you Wednesday and Friday at 2 p.m. Think how happy I am, Lucy. From the Santé Prison Wednesday, January 9th, 1895 My good darling Truly, as I keep thinking of it again I wonder how I could have dared to promise you to live on after my condemnation. That day that Saturday is stamped into my mind in burning letters. I have the courage of the soldier who goes forward gladly to meet death face to face but alas, have I the soul of the martyr? It is because I hope that I live because I am convinced that it is impossible the truth will not someday be made clear because I believe innocence will be recognized. Thursday, January 10th, 1895 Since 2 o'clock this morning I have been unable to close my eyes for the thought that today I should see you. It seems that even now I hear your sweet voice speaking to me of our dear children of our dear families and I am not ashamed to weep for the torture that I endure for the innocent man Alfred from my wife Thursday, January 10th, 1895 Yesterday evening I received your Tuesday's letter and read and re-read it I wept alone in my chamber and this morning again when I awoke last night I had a calmer sleep I dreamed we were talking together but what an awakening Lucy From the Santé prison Friday, January 11th, 1895 Forgive me if I sometimes complain how can I help it at times my heart is so swollen with grief that I must pour its overflow into your heart we have always understood one another so well that I am sure your strong and generous heart throbs with the same indignation as mine and well excuse this rage of a patriotic people who have been told that there is a traitor but I want to live that they may know that traitor is not I upheld by your love by the devotion of our entire family I shall overcome fate I do not say that I shall not have moments of despondency perhaps absolute despair but I shall live one because I want you to bear my name as you have borne it until now with honor, joy, and love and because I want to transmit it stainless to our children do not be weakened in your purpose by adversity search ever for the truth Alfred from my wife Friday January 11th, 1895 how glad I am to have passed a few minutes with you and how short they seem to me I was so moved that I could not speak to you as I had wished and exhort you to have courage my dearest one did I tell you what I think of you how much I love and admire you and the gratitude I feel for the heroism with which you are enduring this moral mental and physical torture how I appreciate your doing it for my sake and for that of our children I am remorseful at not having spoken enough of the hope we have of discovering the truth we are absolutely convinced that we shall succeed in doing it to tell you when that will be is impossible but have patience and never despair for as I told you a while ago we have but one thought from morning to evening the sleepless hours of the night we rack our brains to find some sign some guiding thread which will help us to find the infamous wretch who has destroyed our good name do not be uneasy about your children they are both of them stout little hearts Saturday January 12th 1895 I am thrilled still by yesterday's interview I was deeply moved in seeing you and experienced such joy that I have been unable to close my eyes all the night long it is wonderful that in spite of your sufferings you should keep up your courage yes we must hope the day is soon coming when your innocence shall be recognized when France shall acknowledge her error and see in you one of her noblest sons you shall yet know happiness we shall pass happy years together I know who are making so many plans and dreamed of making your son a man shall still have this joy your little Pierre is very good and his sister is pretty as well as good I was always strict with him you remember but I confess that now while demanding their obedience I rarely can resist indulging them let the poor little things profit by it before learning the tribulations of life Sunday January 13th 1895 what patience and courage you have to bear up under these continued humiliations I am proud to bear your name and when the children are old enough they will understand as I do that you have endured this interminable harrowing agony for their sake Monday January 14th 1895 what a pity the minutes of our meeting and so longed for should be already passed how protracted the minutes of weariness are but how quickly the happy ones fly this interview like the first one passed away like a dream I went to the prison with the joy of expectancy and came back very sad the sight of you has done me good I could not cease looking at and listening to you but it is horrible to have to leave you alone in your bare cell a prey to such fearful mental torture undeserved Lucy for a time after this my wife worn out by the uninterrupted succession of violent emotions was obliged to keep her bed Wednesday January 18th 1895 what a sad day I am passing worse than the others it is impossible for the one shadow of happiness that is granted us has been refused me today I have been able to rise but I am not yet strong enough to go out and in spite of my yearning to see and embrace you the doctor fearing I might take cold insisted that I should keep my room today and tomorrow this filled me with grief and I must confess to you I hid away that I might weep Lucy this letter reached me only at the Ildare my wife did not at the time of writing know of my departure end of part one part two a newspaper account of the degradation editors note the following account of this ceremony appeared the next morning in one of the papers most hostile to Dreyfus the newspaper account the first stroke of nine sounds from the school clock General Daraugh lifts his sword and gives the command which is repeated at the head of each company Porte Arm the troops obey a complete silence ensues hearts stop beating and all eyes are turned toward the corner of the vast square where Dreyfus has been set up in a small building soon a little group appears it is Alfred Dreyfus who is advancing between four artillerymen accompanied by a lieutenant of the republican guard and the oldest non-commissioned officer of the regiment between the dark dolmens of the gunners we see distinctly the gold of the three stripes and the gold of the cap bands the sword glitters and even the distance would behold the black sword-knot on the hilt of the sword Dreyfus marches with a steady step look see how straight the wretches carrying himself someone says the group advances toward General Daraugh with whom is the clerk of the court-martial Monsieur Valkal there are cries now in the crowd but the group halts a sign from the officer in command the drums beat and the trumpets roll and then again all is still a tragic silence now the artillerymen with Dreyfus drop back a few steps and the condemned man stands well out in full view of us all the clerk salutes the general and turning towards Dreyfus reads distinctly the verdict the said Dreyfus is condemned to military degradation and to deportation to a fortress the clerk turns to the general and salutes Dreyfus has listened in silence the voice of General Daraugh is then heard and although it is slightly tremulous with emotion we catch distinctly this phrase Dreyfus you are unworthy to wear the uniform in the name of the French people we deprive you of your rank thereupon we behold Dreyfus lift his arms in air and his head well up exclaim in a loud voice in which there is not the slightest tremor I am innocent I swear that I am innocent in reply the immense throng without clamors death to the traitor but the noise is instantly hushed already the adjutant whose melancholy duty it is to strip from the prisoner his stripes and arms they have begun his work and they now begin to stew the ground Dreyfus makes this the occasion of a fresh protest and his cries carried distinctly even to the crowd outside in the name of my wife and children I swear that I am innocent I swear it viv la France but the work has been rapid the adjutant has torn quickly the stripes from the hat the embroideries from the cuffs from the dolmen the numbers from the collar and ripped off the red stripe worn by the prisoner ever since his entrance into the polytechnic school the saber remains the adjutant draws it from its scabbard and breaks it across his knee there is a dry click and the two portions are flung with the insignia upon the ground then the belt is detached and in its turn this is the end these few seconds have seemed to us ages never was there a more terrible sensation of anguish and once more clear and passionless comes the voice of the prisoner you are degrading an innocent man he must now pass along the line in front of his former comrades and subordinates for another the torture would have been horrible dryfuss does not seem to be affected however for he leaps over the insignia of his rank which two gendarmes are shortly to gather up and takes his place between the four gunners who with drawn swords have led him before general Daraugh the little group led by two officers of the republican guard moves toward the band of music in front of the prison van and begins its march along the front of the troops three feet distant from them dryfuss holds his head well up the public cries death to the traitor soon he reaches the great gateway and the crowd has a better side of him the cries increase thousands of voices demanding the death of the wretch who still exclaims I am innocent vive la France the crowd has not heard but it has seen dryfuss turn toward it and speak the burst of hisses replies to him then an immense shout which rolls like a tempest across the vast courtyard death to the traitor kill him and then outside the mob heaves forward in a murderous surge only by a mighty effort can the police restrain the people from breaking through into the yard to wreak their swift and just vengeance upon dryfuss for his infamy dryfuss continues his march he reaches the group made up of the press representatives you will say to the whole of France he cries that I am innocent silence wretches the reply coward traitor Judas under the insult the abject dryfuss pulls himself up he flings at us a glance full of fierce hatred you have no right to insult me a clear voice issues from the group you know well that you are not innocent viva la France dirty Jew dryfuss continues his route his clothing is pitiably disheveled in the place of his stripes hang long dangling threads and his cap has no shape dryfuss pulls himself up once more but the cries of the crowd are beginning to affect him though the head of the wretch is still insolently turned toward the troops his legs are beginning to give way the march round the square is ended dryfuss is handed over to the two gendarmes who have gathered up his stripes and they conduct him to the prison van dryfuss completely silent now is placed once more in prison but there again he protests his innocence end of part 2 end of section 3