Alfred Dreyfus in His Own Words: Chapter 2 "The Arrest"
(Source: Five Years of My Life: The Diary of Captain Alfred Dreyfus)
THE YEAR 1893 PASSED without incidents. My daughter Jeanne came to shed a new ray of sunshine in our home.
The year 1894 was to be the last of my service in the Second 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 tenue bourgeoise (civilian dress). The hour 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 Commandant Picquart, 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 Commandant Picquart 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 Commandant du Paty de Clam, who was in uniform. Three persons in civilian dress, who were utterly unknown to me, were also there. These three persons were M. Cochefert, Chef de la Surete (the head of the secret police), his secretary, and the Keeper of the Records, M. Gribelin.
Commandant du Paty de Clam 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 Commandant du Paty 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 border eau. In the course of his dictation the Commandant 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; believing 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 Commandant du Paty. But as all suspicion was far from my mind I though t 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, Commandant du Paty 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. T hereupon Commandant du Paty, 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, Commandant du Paty a rose 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. Cochefert 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 rue du Cherchemidi by Commandant Henry, accompanied by one of the detectives. On the way, Commandant Henry, 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 Commandant Henry, 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 convicts' 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 afterward 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. Commandant Forzinetti, 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 Commandant Forzinetti, 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 Commandant du Paty, who acted as officer of judicial police. He always came in very late in the evening, accompanied by Gribelin, 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 Commandant du Paty. I had neither paper nor ink with which to fix my ideas; I was ever y 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 un err ingly dictated my duty to me. "If you die," it said to me, "the 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 Commandant du Paty showed me a photograph of the accusing letter since called the bordereau.
I did not write this letter, nor was I in any way responsible for it.