The army was one thing: the General Staff another. General de Bonnefond was known to have said that ‘he didn’t want a Jew in the General Staff’, and another Jewish intern, Captain Picard, had also been marked down. Dreyfus therefore filed a complaint with the Commandant of the École de Guerre, General Lebelin de Dionne. His complaint was rejected.41 That rejection has also been ascribed to a reflex anti-Semitism in Lebelin de Dionne; however, it is a judgement that might have been unaffected by prejudice, given what is known of Dreyfus’s temperament – his view of his fellow officers as ‘tiresome . . . disagreeable, often spiteful and envious men’; his disdain for barracks life and the officers’ mess; his aloof manner, his intellectual arrogance, his inflexibility and undisguised exasperation at the inefficiencies caused by the ‘old spirit’ in the army, contrasting it unfavourably with the professionalism of the German Army.42 A senior officer must have a rapport with his men and his fellow officers. Intellectual brilliance is not the sole quality, or even the most important quality, by which to judge a candidate’s suitability for high command.
Even after being marked down on côte d’amour, Dreyfus still qualified for a place as an intern on the General Staff; and here his progress did not falter until he reached the Fourth Bureau where his immediate superior, Commandant Bertin-Mourot, criticised him for pursuing his own studies at the expense of more mundane duties. Another assessor, Colonel Roget, judged Dreyfus to be ‘a very intelligent officer with many gifts, an impressive memory, a great facility for the assimilation of facts, but without a character that inspires great confidence and who therefore it would be better not to keep on the General Staff after he has completed his studies’.43 Colonel Fabre, the chief of the Bureau, wrote in his final report that Dreyfus was ‘an incomplete officer, very intelligent and very gifted but undeveloped when it comes to character, awareness and attitude required for a place on the Army General Staff’.44
As with the zero for côte d’amour in the École de Guerre, biographers such as Vincent Duclert believe that this marking down came from the determination of the chiefs of the Fourth Bureau to keep a man who was both a Jew and a moderniser out of the General Staff. However, even these senior officers had to proceed with caution. Since the death of Captain Mayer, and the War Minister de Freycinet’s warning that anti-Semitism in the army would not be tolerated, a career could be jeopardised by an open expression of antipathy towards a Jew. No professional soldier would give a quote or put his name to an article in Drumont’s La Libre Parole. There were few open expressions of anti-Semitism, and even those made in private were rare. Even du Paty de Clam thought it ‘severe’ when General Alfred-Louis Delanne, head of the Third Bureau of the General Staff, said ‘No Jews here’. At the time, wrote du Paty, ‘I was imbued with the humanitarian prejudices and had good relations with intelligent Jews who were artists or scholars . . . But there are situations when it is preferable not to have people [in sensitive posts] who are not indisputably Frenchmen from France.’45
Many French officers from a conservative and Catholic background shared du Paty’s view that Alsatian Jews were not wholly trustworthy, but it could never be said openly that a promotion should be blocked because an officer was a Jew. Instead, what were seen as Jewish traits would be ascribed to a candidate without reference to their source: he was over-confident, his formation was incomplete, his manner was off-hand. To Vincent Duclert, these ‘subtle and perverse means of discrimination’ were driven by ‘a visceral and dogmatic anti-Semitism’;46 but was this true in the case of Dreyfus? Joseph Reinach admitted in his history of the Affair that Dreyfus was disliked by his fellow officers, and it is not absurd to speculate that, if Alfred had had the warm and open personality of his brother Mathieu, he might have achieved his ambition of gaining entry to the General Staff.
* Cf. Jean-Paul Sartre in Anti-Semite and Jew, pp. 130–1: ‘The love of a Jew for a Jewess is not of the same nature as the love he may feel for an “Aryan” woman. There is a basic doubling of Jewish sensibility concealed beneath the exterior of a universal humanism.’
† His brother Jacques had married an American, but she was a Jewish American.
6
Dreyfus Condemned
1: Arrest
At nine in the morning of Monday, 15 October 1894, Captain Alfred Dreyfus turned up as instructed for a general inspection at the headquarters of the General Staff on rue Saint-Dominique; he had walked in the autumn sunshine from his flat on the other side of the Seine. He was met by Commandant Georges Picquart, whom he knew from the École de Guerre, and was escorted by him to the office of General de Boisdeffre. In the ante-room he was presented by Picquart to another uniformed officer whom he had not met before: this was Commandant du Paty de Clam. Also in the room were three other men in civilian clothes – Félix Gribelin, the archivist from the Statistical Section; Armand Cochefert, head of the CID at the Prefecture of Police; and Cochefert’s deputy, Henri-François Boussard. Hidden behind a screen was Commandant Henry from the Statistical Section.
Commandant du Paty de Clam handed Captain Dreyfus a form and asked him to fill it in. Puzzled by the presence of the three civilians, and by the absence of General de Boisdeffre, Dreyfus nonetheless did what was asked of him: he sat down at a small table and filled in the form. Du Paty then asked him, as a favour, if he would write a letter at his dictation which was to be signed by General de Boisdeffre. He said he could not write it himself because of an injury to a finger, holding up his right hand encased in a black glove to prove his point. Still more perplexed, Dreyfus took up pen and paper and du Paty started his dictation.
Paris, 15 October 1894.
Having the best of reasons, sir, for temporarily retrieving the documents I sent to you before I left on manoeuvres, I now ask for their return at the hands of the bearer of this letter, who is someone to be trusted.
I remind you that it is a matter of the utmost importance:
1. A note on the hydraulic brake of the 120 cannon and the way in which it performs—
Du Paty now broke off his dictation and asked Dreyfus aggressively: ‘What is the matter? Your hands are trembling.’
Dreyfus replied that his fingers were cold.
‘Pay attention,’ said du Paty in the same aggressive tone of voice. ‘This is a serious matter.’ The dictation continued.
2. A note on covering troops.
3. A note relating to Madagascar—
Du Paty had had enough. He stood up, laid his hand on Dreyfus’s shoulders and said, in a booming voice, ‘In the name of the law, I arrest you. You are accused of the crime of high treason!’
As soon as du Paty had said these words, the two policemen, Cochefert and Boussard, came forward, grabbed Dreyfus and searched him. Dreyfus was dumbfounded. He made no physical resistance but loudly insisted upon the absurdity of what had just been said. ‘I have never had any relations with a foreign agent. I have a wife and children. I have a private income of thirty thousand francs. Here are my keys. Take them. Search my home. You’ll find nothing.’ Then: ‘At least show me the evidence for the crimes you say I have committed . . .’
‘The evidence is overwhelming,’ said Cochefert.
The search of Dreyfus’s person completed, du Paty began a vigorous interrogation, hoping that the shock of his sudden arrest might induce a confession. He produced a copy of the Penal Code and read out Article 76 which stated that the punishment due to those who ‘have engaged in machinations or shared information with foreign powers’ was death. He then put further questions about Dreyfus’s time as an intern, trying to match the date of his departure on a tour of inspection with the ‘manoeuvres’ mentioned in the bordereau.
After du Paty came Cochefert: the interrogation continued for more than three hours. Dreyfus repeated over and over again that he had had no contact with a foreign power. Cochefert advised him to tell the truth because they had ‘indisputable evidence’ against him – including documents written in his own hand. ‘Are you telling me that
you have never given to a foreigner notes and documents of the kind we are talking about, and which could be used against our country?’
‘Never,’ said Dreyfus. ‘I say it again. I have never done anything of the kind you are suggesting.’
Du Paty took up the refrain, repeating over and over again that Dreyfus was a traitor.
‘Kill me,’ Dreyfus shouted. ‘I’d rather have a bullet in the head . . .’
‘It is not for us to kill you,’ said du Paty, removing the file that concealed a loaded revolver.
‘Ah, no,’ said Dreyfus, realising what was expected of him. ‘I am not going to kill myself. I want to live to establish my innocence.’1
Commandant Henry, the thickset officer of peasant stock who ran the dirty tricks department of the Statistical Section, now appeared from behind the screen where he had been hiding. ‘Commandant,’ said du Paty to Henry. ‘All you have to do is take Captain Dreyfus to the Cherche-Midi. He is already under arrest.’
Henry escorted his prisoner out into the rue Saint-Dominique where they took a horse-drawn cab to the military prison. Dreyfus, not knowing of Henry’s role in his arrest, poured out a torrent of anguished thoughts. ‘This is terrible, mon commandant. I am accused of something dreadful! I’m accused of the crime of high treason!’
‘The devil, but why?’ asked Henry.
‘I have no idea! It’s as if I’ve gone mad. I’d prefer a bullet in my head! I am not guilty! This charge will ruin my life . . . It’s a dreadful accusation, and completely false . . . I can see that the Ministry would not have proceeded against me without some evidence; it must have seemed convincing to them and damning for me, but it must be false . . . I can’t believe that I have enemies who would pursue me with such enmity . . . I don’t understand it. I demand justice.’2
At the Cherche-Midi military prison, Dreyfus was handed over to the Governor, Commandant Ferdinand Forzinetti, and locked up in a cell. No one was informed of his detention. He was allowed no contact with the outside world. It was now that he became demented – possessed by fury and despair. He paced up and down in his cell, overturned the bed and table, hit his head against the walls, screamed with pain. Forzinetti came to try and calm this ‘true madman, with eyes shot through with blood’.3 Dreyfus would not be calmed. He wished he had shot himself when given the chance and asked Forzinetti to bring him a revolver. The Governor refused. He remained with Dreyfus until three in the morning. He had no idea why Dreyfus had been arrested but, witnessing his distress, he felt sure that his prisoner must be innocent. Before leaving the cell, Forzinetti made Dreyfus promise that he would not try to kill himself because suicide would be taken as an admission of guilt.
As soon as Dreyfus had left with Henry for the Cherche-Midi prison, Commandant du Paty de Clam had gone with Commissaire Cochefert and Félix Gribelin, the archivist from the Statistical Section, to the apartment of Alfred and Lucie Dreyfus on the avenue du Trocadéro. Although they had Alfred’s keys, they rang the bell and were admitted by a maid. The maid informed Lucie Dreyfus of their presence. Lucie sent word that her husband would be back shortly: he had to change into his uniform to return to his regiment. Du Paty sent the maid back with the message that they had to come to see Mme Dreyfus, not her husband.
Lucie joined the three men in her living room.
‘Madame,’ du Paty said, ‘I have a very sad task to perform.’
‘My husband is dead!’ cried Lucie.
‘No, worse than that,’ said du Paty.
‘He fell off his horse?’
‘No, madame. He is in prison.’
Lucie was aghast. ‘Where is he? In which prison?’
Du Paty refused to expand on what he had said. He told Lucie that the whole matter must remain secret. Lucie said that she could surely inform her husband’s brothers. ‘One word to anyone,’ said du Paty, ‘one single word from you will be disastrous for him. The only way to save him is to say nothing.’
Lucie accepted what she had been told, but nonetheless protested to du Paty that her husband was undoubtedly the victim of some terrible misunderstanding, and was certainly innnocent of any wrongdoing. She told them of her husband’s righteousness, his loyalty, his devotion to duty, his love of his country. This cut no ice with du Paty. He and Cochefert proceeded to search the apartment, taking anything they thought relevant – Dreyfus’s private correspondence, his account books, the files he had brought home from work. They then left and went to the apartment of the Hadamards on the rue de Châteaudun, to see if their suspect had concealed incriminating material with his parents-in-law: they might even have been their son-in-law’s accomplices. Du Paty and Cochefert seized Alfred’s letters written to Lucie at the time of their engagement. Nothing incriminating was found in either of the two apartments, but so convinced was du Paty that Dreyfus was a traitor that he decided this merely revealed his cunning. ‘We found nothing,’ du Paty told Commandant Picquart when he got back to the Ministry. ‘He has got rid of everything! There’s nothing left!’4
For the two days following his arrest and imprisonment, Dreyfus was left alone in his cell. It was only on 18 October that du Paty came to continue his interrogation. Again, he was accompanied by the archivist Gribelin, who took notes. Du Paty’s main objective was to obtain a confession. There was no question of torture: Forzinetti, the prison Governor, turned down a request made by du Paty for a bright light to disorientate the prisoner. However, du Paty used a number of ploys of his own invention to break down the stubborn resistance of the accused. He made Dreyfus write, over and over again, the phrase ‘I am off on manoeuvres’, and by repetitive questioning tried to get him to admit that he had had access to the documents mentioned in the bordereau. Du Paty cut up photographs of Dreyfus’s letters and photographs of the memorandum, mixed them together in his cap, and had Dreyfus pick them out and identify them. Dreyfus never once made a mistake. Du Paty asked him a series of leading and, to Dreyfus nonsensical, questions but resolutely refused to tell him the precise reason for his arrest.5
While du Paty continued with his interrogation of Dreyfus in the Cherche-Midi prison, François Guénée, a former undercover police officer then working for the Statistical Section, was sent by Colonel Sandherr to rummage around in Dreyfus’s private life to see if he could find some corroborative evidence against him. He clutched at straws. Just as du Paty had decided that the absence of any evidence found in Dreyfus’s flat merely confirmed his deviousness, so Guénée interpreted everything he discovered as evidence against him: Dreyfus was said to have ‘a louche manner very similar to that found among those who practise espionage’; his fluency in German and Italian was suspicious; and his courtesy betrayed ‘the obsequiousness of his character, well suited to dealing with agents of foreign powers’.6
Guénée’s mission was to find a motive for Dreyfus’s crime. At first a need for money seemed unlikely because Dreyfus was rich, but Guénée picked up rumours that Dreyfus gambled and had run up huge debts. It was said that Louise Hadamard, Alfred’s mother-in-law, had complained to the Chief Rabbi about his gambling,7 but when this was put to Dreyfus in the Cherche-Midi prison, he vehemently denied that he had ever gambled outside the family circle – a few francs on a game of bridge.
More damaging was the discovery of his liaisons with demi-mondaines. At first Dreyfus had disowned the ladies in question, hoping to hide his infidelities from Lucie, but he was forced to admit that he knew the ladies in question when given their names. The uncovering of Dreyfus’s past – a recent past in the case of Suzanne Cron – confirmed to the priggish du Paty that he was not a man of honour: ‘anyone who commits adultery is capable of betraying his country,’ du Paty would tell Dreyfus’s nephew Paul. ‘I would never wish to touch a woman other than my wife, anyone who does is a wretch.’8 But it did not furnish a motive. Could something be made of the fact that the Dreyfuses employed an Alsatian cook who hardly spoke French, had never applied for French nationality and had an illegitimate child? More promisin
g was the discovery that a Dutchwoman, a Mme van Delden, lived in the same apartment block as Dreyfus. But it turned out that she was on bad terms with the Dreyfuses, and that the soldier who visited her from time to time was not Captain Dreyfus but General de Boisdeffre.9
The best du Paty could come up with in his search for a motive was the admission by Lucie Dreyfus, when questioned further, that ‘Dreyfus had been made ill by his disappointment at being marked down on graduating from the École de Guerre’; that he had had nightmares, and had said over and over again: ‘What is the point of serving in this army when, however hard one tries, one’s merit will not be rewarded?’ When confronted with this, Dreyfus admitted that ‘perhaps on leaving the École, I had a moment of discontent which I shared with my wife. There is nothing more natural than that.’10 It was no doubt natural, but the idea of taking revenge on an army that had spurned him was not just the most plausible but the only motive du Paty could suggest.
The Dreyfus Affair: The Scandal That Tore France in Two Page 10