Posted under: Essays
The Dreyfus Affair was a political scandal that erupted in France in the 1890s and paralyzed French political and social life for more than a decade. The Affair revolved around the conviction of a French army officer, Captain Alfred Dreyfus, for selling military secrets to the Germans. During the time of the Affair, the two camps, the Dreyfusards (those who supported Dreyfus’ innocence) and the anti-Dreyfusards (those who considered Dreyfus guilty) would argue to the point of “families being disunited, oldest friendships broken, people arguing […] on trolley platforms, in cafés, theatres, clubs, and at tables.” [1] Due in part to the French writer Emile Zola’s impassioned open letters, which were published in the Paris newspapers, Dreyfus was eventually exonerated of the charges against him. But what was the true role of Zola’s work in actually freeing Dreyfus during the 12-year life of the Affair? Was he merely a figurehead for the Dreyfusards, writing impassioned calls-to-arms aimed at a group who already believed in his cause? Or was he a heroic figure who inspired France to live up to the liberté, égalité and fraternité [2] it promised for all of its citizens?
The evidence in the trial revolves around a letter, hereafter known as the bordereau, that was stolen from the German embassy by the French intelligence service on September 26, 1894. It was a list of classified French military documents and an assurance that they would soon be sent to the Germans.
The bordereau was brought to the Deputy Chief of the Fourth Bureau of the French military, and as he described during the court proceedings, he “attempted to remember all the names of artillery officers assigned to the bureau. The name Dreyfus was the only one [he] could think of who had not made a good impression and who had received a bad report [3].” After this, a cursory comparison of Dreyfus’ handwriting and the bordereau were all that was needed for the officers to assume Dreyfus’ guilt. However, in reality, Dreyfus’ handwriting looked very different than that of the bordereau [4]. There were also many other inconsistencies, such as the fact that the bordereau mentions leaving shortly for military exercises (Dreyfus never was deployed abroad) and the fact that the note contained many inaccuracies that would be unthinkable to someone whose specialty was in artillery [5]. However, the officers were convinced of Dreyfus’ guilt, many due to the fact that he was a Jew. On November 1, 1894, the anti-Semitic newspaper La Libre Parole reported the story “High Treason; Arrest of the Jewish Officer, Alfred Dreyfus [6].” Dreyfus was convicted in a court-martial and exiled to Devil’s Island in South America. It had begun. The actual author of the bordereau was a French Army major named Ferdinand Walsin Esterhazy, who had a reputation as a “dissolute spender [7].” When his guilt became obvious, the military forged three more documents as evidence against Dreyfus, which further impeded the wheels of justice.
The French writer Emile Zola is remembered as the foremost of those who led the call to free Dreyfus. Over the course of the Affair, he wrote thirteen open letters published in newspapers to various people associated with the affair. The most famous of these open letters, “J’Accuse,” was published January 13, 1898 [8], in the newspaper L’Aurore.
Zola was brought into the Affair through the efforts of Bernard-Lazare, a poet, who urged Zola to attend a meeting at the home of the vice-president of the French senate, Auguste Scheurer-Kestner. During the meeting, Scheurer-Kestner showed Zola some of the documents relating to the affair and described the political machinations taking place within the military at that time. The director of the newspaper Le Figaro asked Zola to write regarding the affair, which resulted in the publication of an open letter to M. Scheurer-Kestner, published November 25, 1897 [9].
It is worth noting that Bernard-Lazare visited Zola the year before, but Zola was unconvinced. However, at that time the scope of what was to become the affair was limited and consisted mainly of Alfred Dreyfus’ brother attempting to protest his brother’s innocence and call for a new trial. But why, exactly, did he join? Zola had written an article published in May 1896 (well before the Affair) entitled A Plea For the Jews, which attempts to refute the anti-Semitic rhetoric of the time and to defuse the notion of a global Jewish conspiracy. However, a devotion to eradicate anti-Semitism alone did not bring them into the affair, which ran the risk of jeopardizing his relatively peaceful life.
However, his reasons for joining are unclear. When asked by a Russian journalist whether he would use the Affair in a future novel, he replied: “‘I have made up my mind to use it, of course. But how or why, I do not know yet myself. So much passion is involved! So much human psychology! So many conflicting interests! Why not put it into dialogue form — certainly not for the stage, not for money, certainly not for its ‘scandal’ value, but to create a work in which everything would hinge on the struggle for truth and justice [10].’” So it seems Zola was attracted to the affair not purely from a dispassionate interest in truth and justice, but in the interest of incorporating it into his work. Though this imagined work about the Affair never materialized (he did, however, expand on the theme of justice in his later works) it shows that Zola’s interest in the Affair was more than a simple interest in justice.
He published five more open letters during various stages of the affair, culminating with J’Accuse, which blatantly accused specific government officials of manufacturing the affair, and also called out the military for their misguided attempts to protect Esterhazy, and by extension their own institution. This was the most brazen of all of his letters. In J’Accuse, he states “in making these accusations, I am fully aware that my action comes under Articles 30 and 31 of the law of 29 July 1881 on the press, which makes libel a punishable offense. I deliberately expose myself to that law.”[11] It seems that he was hoping that the publication of the letter would drag those government officials named in the letter out into the light. In addition to being a call-to-arms for those who believed in the rule of law, J’Accuse provided the public with the clearest view of the sordid details of the Affair that were known by the Dreyfusards up to until that time, and to the largest audience. That issue of L’Aurore sold 10 times the normal circulation, and caused a massive uproar in Paris [12]. The movement to free Dreyfus had been given a new lease on life.
As a result of the publication of J’Accuse, the government sued Zola and the manager of L’Aurore for libel[13]. There was a two-week trial, which led to a guilty verdict for both of them, delivered July 18, 1898[14]. Zola was sentenced to one year in prison and a fine of 3,000 francs [15]. After this, the courts bickered over who had the correct jurisdiction, and a new trial was held which on Feb. 23, 1898 gave the same sentence as the first. That night, Zola boarded a boat to England.
Zola used his time in exile to work on his newest novel, Fecondité. He still kept in touch with his friends and family in Paris with letters sent through third parties, but as he was isolated his influence on the Affair became limited. As he wrote in his diary, “As it has so many times already, amidst the most unbearable moral suffering, my work will keep me on my feet [16].”
However, the climate in Paris was about to change. First, Esterhazy, who had avoided prosecution during the entire length of the Affair despite multiple court-martials, fled to England Sept. 1, 1899[17]. Second, Colonel Henry, who had been imprisoned for forging one of the documents used to convict Dreyfus, committed suicide August 31, 1898 [18]. Zola was ecstatic as he thought that this would be the end of the Affair. However, the Paris press spun Henry into a hero, whose “patriotic forgery [19]” had been intended to save the Army.
Oddly enough, the event that led the most to Dreyfus’ eventual exoneration was the death of the French president Félix Faure on Feb. 16, 1899. Émile Loubet was elected President of the French Republic two days after Faure’s death, and supported a revision. The session of the Court of Cassation lasted eight months, delivering its verdict on June 3, 1899 [20], that there was merit in an appeal, and referred the matter to a second court-martial. Le Matin, on the day the Court of Cassation ordered the new court-martial, published an interview with Esterhazy where he admitted to writing the bordereau. He said, “There was on the General Staff an officer who committed treason. That offer was named Dreyfus. He had to be caught. And that is why I wrote the bordereau.”
On June 5, 1899, Zola returned to France. He had received a coded letter from his wife that Dreyfus’s earlier verdict had been annulled and that the new trial was starting. He wrote another article for L’Aurore describing his 11 months in exile and asserted that his return coincided with the establishment of justice in France yet again. He dared the French authorities to arrest him, but it never happened. The trial was delayed again and again, and eventually was rendered moot by a law of general amnesty regarding those involved with the Affair, which was passed in 1900 [21].
Dreyfus was brought back from Devil’s Island in June 1899 for the second court-martial, which captivated the world audience for two months. Testimony was heard from many generals asserting his guilt. One general even produced a document supposedly written by an Austrian military official confirming Dreyfus’s guilt, but it was immediately declared a forgery [22]. The defense mounted a valiant effort, which proved many of the other documents that the prosecutions used as evidence were in fact forgeries. The defense also mentioned that the military exercises and employment mentioned in the bordereau coincided exactly with Esterhazy’s deployment record [23].
One would think that this would be the perfect opportunity for Zola to write another impassioned defense of Dreyfus’s innocence. However, during the entire retrial Zola retreated from Paris to his country home in Médan. Perhaps he wished to not repeat his experience in exile, or perhaps he had said all he wanted to on the affair? In his diaries, it is very clear that he despised being in England and deprived from contact with his friends in Paris [24]. He must have known that had he written another incendiary piece, he would be right back on the boat to the England. Perhaps he thought that after all his polemics justice was assured. Whatever his reasons for retreating from Paris, he dusted off his pen once the verdict was announced.
On September 9, Dreyfus was found guilty for the second time. Zola was outraged. Writing in an article published in L’Aurore, “A ludicrous public prosecutor, raising idiocy to new heights, bequeathing to future historians a final summing up so vapid, so silly and so lethal that it will forever be a source of wonderment, of such senile and stubborn cruelty that it seems senseless, the brainchild of some human animal that has never yet been classified. [25]”
However, the new legislature was eager to put the affair behind them, and the President signed Dreyfus’ pardon on Sept. 19, 1899 [26]. In the beginning, Dreyfus was loath to accept a pardon (he wanted exoneration), but his brother reminded him of his duties to his family. The condition for the pardon was that Dreyfus withdraw his request for an appeal, which he did.
Unlike many of the diehard Dreyfusards, Zola refused to criticize Dreyfus for accepting the pardon. He must have seen that the pardon was the only real way to put the matter behind the nation without giving either side of decisive victory. Although Dreyfus recognized the political expediency of the pardon, he did support the reopening of the case and his exoneration. He writes, “[m]y heart will not be at rest until there is no longer a Frenchman who imputes to me the abominable crime which another has committed.” In 1902, Zola died in a home accident, well before Dreyfus’ name was cleared. Four years later, the Court of Cassation voted unanimously to set aside the verdict of the second court-martial and reinstate Dreyfus in the army.
So, after all of the polemics, the public tête-à-tête, the lies, the distortions—what was the true extent of Zola’s ability to truly exonerate Dreyfus? He provided the intellectual and moral backbone for the movement, but as for actually turning the wheels of justice, he did not hold enough power. The unexpected death of the French president was almost a more decisive event than the publication of J’Accuse, in terms of bringing the necessary stars into alignment for the second trial to proceed.
J’Accuse, while it did have a few factual errors,[27] was an important call to arms in the movement. His many other letters during the affair helped guide public opinion into supporting his positions. However, overwhelming public support isn’t necessarily enough to get the wheels of justice moving or even to scuttle an unpopular law. True, Zola was courageous, fighting through throngs of angry Parisians to testify at the first trial. However, his protestations fell on deaf ears both times.
In the second trial, as the military’s case looked flimsier and flimsier, public opinion was seething. There was even an attempt on the life of Dreyfus’ lawyer. All of the impassioned polemics in the world would not force the Army to embarrass itself. As the Chief Of Staff Gen. De Boisdeffre threatened during the first trial, “you are the jury; you are the nation. If the nation has no confidence in the chiefs of its army, and the men who are responsible for the nation’s defense, those men are prepared to hand over that great task to others…” [28] which was the decisive moment of that trial.
However, the Affair cannot only be seen in the context of a trial with a specific outcome of guilt or innocence. If this were so, the Affair would not still be discussed with such gravity. The issue on trial was the rule of law and the doctrine of equality before the law. This was the principle that Zola espoused above all. In terms of assuring the eventual clearing of Dreyfus’ name, he may have done the most of anyone. However, in terms of actually greasing the wheels of justice he had precious little power.
1. Zola, Emile. The Dreyfus Affair: “J’Accuse” and Other Writings. Translator: Elanor Levieux. Editor: Alain Pagés. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1996.
2. Henri G. Franco and Mary (Hrenchuk) Pankiw. The Dreyfus Affair: The Clique of Saint-Dominique Street. Montreal, Canada: Editions Naaman, 1986.
3. Derfler, Leslie (Editor). The Dreyfus Affair: Tragedy of Errors? Lexington, Mass: D.C. Heath and Company, 1963.
4. Snyder, Louis Leo. The Dreyfus Case: A Documentary History. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1973.