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Five Years of My Life
^
5i
Alfred Dreyfus.
Five Years of My Life
\lfred Dreyfus
Translated from the French by
James Mortimer
^/M Portraits and Illustrations
Toronto George N. Morang & Co., Limited
1901
m
Five Years of My Life
By Alfred Dreyfus
Translated from the French by
James Mortimer
With Portraits and Illustrations
Toronto George N. Morang & Co., Limited
1901
Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canadaj^in the year nineteen hundred and one, by George N. Morang & Company, Limited, at the Department of Agriculture.
S09475
TO MV CHILDREN
PREFACE
I only recount in these pages my life in the five years during which I was cut off from the world of the living.
The events which occurred in connection with the trial of i8g4f and in the following yearSf in France, remained unknown to me
until the trial of Rennes*
A. D.
List of Illustrations
PAGE
Portrait of Captain Dreyfus - - Frontispiece Dreyfus after his Degradation - - - 44 Outline Sketch of Devil's Island - - 94 Plan of Dreyfus' Hut ----- 95 Facsimile of Inscription on Copy Book - 99 Facsimile from the Diary - - - - loi Facsimile of Quotation from "Hamlet" 195 Plan of Hut and Enclosure - - - 239 Plan of Additional Palisades - - - 241 View of Devil's Island, Prison, etc. - - 296 Dreyfus on his Way Back - - - -330 Dreyfus and his Family .... 341
Five Years of My Life
I
I WAS born at Mulhouse, in Alsace, the 9th of October, 1859. My childhood passed quietly under the gentle influence of my mother and my sisters, and of a father deeply devoted to his children, and under the careful protection of brothers older than myself.
My first sad impression, of which the painful souvenir has never faded from my memory, wasjhe war of^rH^Q- On the conclusion of peace, my father chose to remain a French- man, and we were obliged to leave Alsace. I went to Paris to continue my studies, i In 1878 1 entered the Ecole Polytechnique,
Five Years of My Life
which I left in 1880 lo enter as pupil L=5ub- lieutenant of artillery at the Military Sch ool of Fontainebleau. The ist of October, i8<S2, I was appointed lieutenant in the 31st Regi- ment of Artillery, in garrison at Le Mans. At the end of the year 1883 I was classed in the horse batteries of the first division of Independent Cavalry at Paris.
On the 12th of September, 1889, I was promoted captain in the 21st Regiment of Artillery, detached as assistant at the Central School of Military Pyrotechny at Bourges. In the course of the winter I became engaged to be married to Mdlle. Lucie Hadamard, who became my devoted and heroic wife.
During my engagement I prepared myself for the Ecole Superieure de Guerre, which I entered on the 20th of April, 1890. The next day I was married. I left the Ecole Supe- rieure de Guerre m 1892 with the note *' very good " and the brevet of staff officer. My class-number on leaving the school en- titled me to a subordinate place on the \
Five Years of My Life
General Staff, which I entered on the ist of January, 1893.
A brilHant and facile career was opened to me; the future appeared under bright auspices. After the day's labours I tasted the repose and the charms of family life. Interested in all the manifestations of the human mind, I delighted in reading during the pleasant evenings passed at my own fireside. My wife and I were perfectly happy, and our first child enlivened our home. I had no worldly anxieties; the same profound affection united me with the members of my own and my wife's family. All that renders life happy seemed to smile upon me.
II
The year 1893 passed without any occur- rence of note; my daughter Jeanne came to shed a new ray of sunshine in our home.
The year 1894 was to be the last of my 3
Five Years of My Life
service on the General Staff of the army. During the last quarter of that year I was designated for the regulation period of service in a regiment of infantry stationed at Paris.
I commenced my duties on October ist ; on Saturday, the 13th of October, 1894, I received an official note requesting me to go on the following Monday morning at nine o'clock to the War Department, to be present at the general inspection, it being expressly enjoined upon me to appear in mufti. The hour named seemed to me very early for the general inspection, which ordinarily takes place in the evening, and the order to appear in civilian dress also surprised me. But after remarking these singularities when I read the official note, I attached little impor- tance to them and forgot them speedily.
On Sunday evening my wife and I dined as usual at the house of her parents, which we left full of gaiety, and light-hearted as we always were after an evening passed in the family circle.
4
Five Years of My Life
On Monday morning I took leave of those dear to me. My little son Pierre, then three and a half years old, who was accustomed to go with me to the door when I went out, accompanied me that morning as usual. This circumstance became one of my keenest remembrances m my misfortunes. Often in my nights of agony and despair I have re- called the moment when I had clasped my child in my arms for the last time, and that recollection seemed to endow me with re- newed strength and will.
The morning was fine and cool, the sun had risen above the horizon, dissipating the thin, hght fog, and everything indicated a splendid day. As I arrived at the War Office a short time in advance, I strolled for some moments before the building, and then went up to the offices. Up;on entering I was received by Commandant Picquart, who seemed to be waiting for me, and who at once took me into his private room. I was surprised to see none of my comrades, as officers are always assembled in groups at
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the general inspection, j After a few minutes of trivial conversation. Commandant Pic- quart conducted me to the private office^ the Chief of the General Staff. My surprise was great upon entering. Instead of meet- irrg the Chief of the Generar^taH7"T~was received by Commandant du Paty de Clanij jn uniform. Three persons in civilian dress, who were completely unknown to me, were also present. These three men were M. CocEetert, Chief of the Secret Police, liis secretary, and M. Gribelin, Keeper of ^he Records. Commandant du Paty came up to me and said in a tremblmg voice, "The general is coming ; whilst you are waiting, as 1 have a letter to write and have a sore finger, will you kindly write it for me ? " However singular this request, made in such circumstances, I at once assented. I sat down at a little table already prepared, and Commandant du Paty seated himself close to me, following my hand with his eye. After first directing me to fill up an inspec- tion form, he dictated to me a letter in which 6
Five Years of My Life
certain passages recalled the letter of accu- sation, which I heard of afterwards, and which was known by the name of the " Bor- dereau." In the course of the dictation the commandant said sharply, "You tremble." I did not tremble. At the court-martial of 1894 he explained this brusque exclamation, saying that he had noticed that I did not tremble during the dictation, and that he had consequently thought I was playing a part, and had ihei'efore endeavoured to shake my self-assurance. This vehement remark surprised me greatly, as well as the hostile attitude of Commandant du Paty. But as there was no suspicion in my mind, I supposed he was finding fault with my handwriting. My fingers were cold, as the temperature outside was chilly, and I had only been for a few moments in a warm room. I therefore replied to him, " My fingers are half frozen."
As I continued to write without emotion. Commandant du Paty tried a fresh manoeuvre, and said to me violently, " Pay attention ; it 7
Five Years of My Life
is a serious matter." Though surprised at conduct as rude as it was unexpected, I said nothing, and simply endeavoured to write better. From that moment Com- mandant du Paty, as he stated before the court-martial of 1894, considered that I had all my presence of mind, and that it was useless to continue the experiment any further. The scene of the dictation had been arranged in advance in every detail, but the result had not answered the expec- tations of those who had devised it.
As soon as the dictation was finished Commandant du Paty rose, and, placing his hand on my shoulder, exclaimed in a loud voice, " In the name of the law, I arrest you. You are accused of the crime of high treason 1 " Had a thunderbolt fallen at my feet the effect produced upon me could not have been more violent. I stammered a few disconnected words, protesting against an infamous accusation which nothing in my life could justify.
Then M. Cochefert and his secretary 8
Five Years of My Life
,' rushed upon me and searched me ; I did jnot 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 which you pretend I have committed." f " The charges are overwhelm- ing," they replied, but refused to give me any information concerning their precise nature.
I was then taken to the military prison in the Rue du Cherche-Midi, by Commandant Henry, accompanied by an officer of the Secret Police. On the way Commandant Henry, who was fully informed of what had just taken place, as he had been present hidden behind a curtain during the entire scene, asked me of what I was accused. My reply was made the subject of a report of Commandant Henry, of which the false- hood was made evident by the interrogatory itself to which I had just been subjected, and which was subsequently renewed during several days. On my arrival at the prison
Five Years of My Life
I was locked in a cell whose grated wind I looked upon the yard used by convic | felons. I was placed in solitary confi ment, no communication with even my family being permitted. I had at my dis- posal neither paper, pen, ink, nor pencil. During the first days I was placed on the diet of convicted criminals, but this rigorous measure was afterwards cancelled.
The men who brought me my food were always accompanied by the sergeant of the guard and the warder, who alone possessed the key of my cell, and even they were for- bidden to speak to me. When I found myself in that gloomy cell, under the atro- cious impression of the ordeal to which I had been subjected, and the monstrous accusation brought against me— when I thought of the dear ones I had left full of joy and happiness only a few hours before, 1 fell into a state of terrible excitement, and wept with despair. I walked up and down my dungeon, beating my head against the walls. The governor of the prison came *o
Five Years of My Life
see me, accompanied by the warder, and quieted me for a short time. ^__
I am glad to be able to give expression here to the gratitude with which Com- mandant Forzinetti, Governor of the Military Prisons, inspired me- I found in him, allied with a strict sense of a soldier's duty, the highest feelings of humanity.
During the seventeen days that followed I underwent numerous interrogatories by Commandant du Paty, who was invested with the functions of officer of Judicial Police. He always came late in the even- ing, accompanied by his clerk, the Record- Keeper Gribelin He dictated to me frag- ments of sentences quoted from the in- criminating letter, showing me rapidly, in the uncertain light, words or fractions of words taken from the same letter, asking me at the same time if I recog- nised my handwriting. Apart from that which has been recorded in my various examinations, he made all sorts of veiled allusions to facts concerning which 1 under- II
Five Years of My Life
stood nothing, and then withdrew with a theatrical flourish, leaving my brain filled with insoluble riddles. I was still in igno- rance of the basis of the accusation brought against me, notwithstanding my reiterated demands. I could obtain no light upon the monstrous charge brought against me. I was simply struggling in a vacuum.
If my brain did not give way during those interminable days and nights, it was not the fault of Commandant du Paly. I possessed neither pen nor ink with which to record my ideas. At every instant I turned over and over in my memory the fragments of phrases which I dragged from him, and which only served to increase my bewilder- ment ; but however acutely I was tortured, my conscience never failed to dictate to me my duty. " If you die," said the silent monitor, " you will be thought guilty ; whatever happens, you must live to shout your innocence in the face of the world. "
At last, on the fifteenth day after my arrest, Commandant du Paty showed me a
12
Five Years of My Life
photograph of the incriminatory letter, since known as the "Bordereau."
I had not written this letter ; I was not its author.
Ill
When the examination of Commandant du
Paty was closed, the order was given by General Mercier. Minister of War, to open a regular inquiry^ My conduct, however, was irreproachable ; nothing in my life, my actions, or my communications with others could be impeached. kpca/ /
The 3rd of November, General Saussier, Governor of JPaijs, signed the order of inquiry.
The conduct of the investigation was confided to Commandant d'Ormescheville, Judge Advocate of No. i Court Martial of Paris, who was unable to find any precise offence imputed to my charge. His report was a tissue of mendacious allusions and 13
Five Years of My Life
insinuations. Justice was done to this document at the court-martial of 1894. At the last hearing the Government com- missioner terminated his mdictment by recognising that everything had disappeared except the Bordereau. The Prefecture of Police, having investigated my private life, had made an absolutely favourable official report. The detective Guenee, who was attached to the bureau of the War Office, produced, on the other hand, an anonymous report made up entirely of calumnious stories. This latter report was the only one which figured in the court-martial of 1894. The official report of the Prefecture of Police, which had been placed in Com- mandant Henry's hands, had disappeared. The magistrates of the Supreme Court found the minutes of it in the dockets of the Prefecture, and caused the truth to be made known in 1899.
After seven weeks of inquiry, during which I remained as before in solitary con- finement, the Commissary of the Govern- 14
I Five Years of My Life
inent, Commandant Brisset, on December 3, 1894, proposed the indictment, ^* the pre- sumptions being sufficiently well founded." As a matter of fact the presumptions in question were founded upon the contra- dictory reports of experts in handwriting. Two of these, M. Gobert, expert of the Bank of France, and M. Pelletier, concluded in my favour ; two other experts, MM. Teys- sonnieres and Charavay, concluded against me, though at the same time pointing out numerous differences between the ha,nd- writing of the Bordereau and mine. M. Bertillon, who was not an expert, pro- nounced against me for pretended scientific reasons. It is well known that at the court- martial at Rennes, in 1899, M. Charavay publicly recognised his mistake.
Qn__thg^4th of December, i8q4, General
_SaUSSier. Military <^r>^7<^rnor nf Paris^ signgH
the order of Jrial.
I was then placed in communication "^ru]^ Maitre Demange, whose devotedness -^istained me in the midst of all my troubles.
I 15
i
Five Years of My Life ^j
I was still refused the privilege of seeing my wife. At last, on the 5th of December, 1 received permission to write to her an open letter.
•' Tuesday, ^th December t 1894.
"My dear Lucie,
" At last I am able to write you a word. I have just been informed that my trial takes place on the 19th of this month. I am not allowed to see you.
" I will not describe to you all that I have suffered ; there are no terms in the world strong enough in which to do so.
" Do you remember when I used to say to you how happy we were ? All life smiled upon us. Then suddenly came a terrible thunderclap, from which my brain is still reeling. I, accused of the most monstrous crime that a soldier could com- mit 1 Even now I think I am the victim of a terrible nightmare.
"The truth will come to light at \^_ My conscience is cahn and tranquil, ^. 16
Five Years of My Life
reproaches me with nothing, I have always done my duty ; 1 have never wavered. I have been overwhelmed, prostrated in my dark prison, alone with my thoughts. I have had moments of wild madness, I have been light- headed even, but my conscience kept watch. It said to me : ' Lift up your head and look the world in the face. Supported by your conscience, walk straight on and right your- self. This is a terrible experience, but you must submit to it.'
" I will not write at greater length, for I want this letter to leave this evening.
•^ I embrace you a thousand times, for I lOve you, I adore you.
"A thousand kisses to the children. I dare not speak more to you of them ; tears come to my eyes when I think of them.
"Alfred."
The day before the trial commenced 1 wrote my wife the following letter ; it ex- ';>resses all the confidence I had in the -oyalty and conscientiousness of the judges.
17 B
Five Years of My Life
"At last I have reached the end of my sufferings, the end of my martyrdom. To- morrow I shall appear before my judges, my head held high, my soul at rest.
" The experience I have just gone through, a terrible experience though it was, has purified my soul. I shall return to you better than I used to be. I want to conse- crate all that remains to me of life to you, to my children, to our dear relatives.
"As I told you, I have gone through terrible crises. I have had moments of real, wild madness, at the thought of being accused of such a monstrous crime.
" I am ready to appear before soldiers as^ a soldier who has nothing to reproach him-^ self^jwith.^^ They will see my face, they will read my soul, they will gain the conviction of my innocence, like all those who know_ me.
" Devoted to my country, to which I have consecrated all my strength, all my intell[-_ gence, I have nothing to fear. Sleep peace- fully, then, my darling, and have no care. x8
4 Five Years of My Life
liink only of the joy which will be ours Kvhen we find ourselves shortly in one [mother's arms, quickly forgetting these sad and sombre days. .
" Awaiting that happy moment, a thousand
kisses.
"Alfred."
On December 19, 1894, the trial began, and was conducted with closed doors, in spite of the strenuous opposition of my counsel. I earnestly desired the publicity of the proceedings, in order that my innocence should be proclaimed in broad daylight.
When I entered the court, accompanied by a lieutenant of the Republican Guard, I could see nothing, hear nothing. I knew nothing of what was going on around me. My mind was completely engrossed by the frightful nightmare that had weighed upon me for so many long weeks, the monstrous accusation of treason, the inanity, the empti- ness of which I was about to demonstrate.
I could only distinguish, at the back, 19
Five Years of My Life
on the platform, the judges of the court | martial, officers like myself, comrades before whom I was at last going to completely prove my innocence. When at length I was seated in front of my counsel, M. Demange, I looked at my judges. They were im- passive.
Behind them were the deputy judges, Commandant Picquart, the Ministry of War delegate, and M Lepine, the Prefect of Police. Opposite me was Commandant Brisset, the Government commissary, and Valecalle, the clerk.
The first incidents, the battle fought by Demange to obtain the publicity of the pro- ceedings, the violent interruptions of the President of the court-martial, the clearing of the court, did not turn my mind from the aim towards which it was strained.)!^ I was anxious to come face to face with my accusers. I was anxious to destroy the miserable evidence of an infamous accusa- tion, and to defend my honour
I heard the false and heinous deposition 20
Five Years of My Life
of Commandant du Paty de Clam, the lying deposition of Commandant Henry, on the subject of the conversation between us on the way from the Mmistry of War to the prison of the Rue du Cherche-Midi on the day of my arrest. I refuted them both energetically and calmly. But when the latter came back a second time to the bar, when he said that he had it from an honourable person that an officer of the Second Bureau was a traitor, I rose in indignation and violently demanded that the person whose words he quoted should be brought forward. Then, striking a theatrical attitude and beating his breast, he added : '' When an officer has a secret in his head, he does not tell it even to his cap." Then, turning to me : " And there is the traitor \" In spite of my violent protestations, I could not get the meaning of these words made clear ; therefore I could not prove the falseness of them.
I heard the contradictory reports of the experts ; two of them gave evidence in my favour, two against me, though at the same
Five Years of My Life
time pointing out numerous dissimilariti< between the writing of the Bordereau an< mine. I attached no importance to Ber- tillon's evidence, for it seemed to me to be the ravings of a madman.
All the secondary allegations were refuted at the sittings. No incentive could be brought forward to explain such an abomin- able crime.
At the fourth and last sitting, the Govern- ment commissary abandoned all the secon- dary counts, retaining only the Bordereau as evidence against me ; he took up this document and flourished it, crying :
** There only remains the Bordereau ; but that is enough. Let the judges take their magnifying-glasses."
M. Demange, in his eloquent speech, refuted the reports of the experts, pointed out all their contradictory statements, and concluded by asking how they could attach so much importance to such an accusation without the production of any evidence.
2a
Five Years of My Life
An acquittal seemed to me to be certain.
I was found guilty.
I learned, four years and a half later, that the uprightness of the judges had been over- come by the deposition of Henry as much as by the production, in the Council Chamber, of the secret and unknown documents of the prosecution, documents some of which were irrelevant and others forged.
The production of these documents in the Council Chamber was ordered by General Mercier.
IV
My despair was intense ; the night which followed my condemnation was one of the most tragic in my tragic existence. I turned over the most extravagant projects in my mind. I was tired of all these atrocities, revolted at so much wickedness. But the thought of my wife, of my children, pre-
Five Years of My Life
vented me from makmg any definite de- cision, and I resolved to wait.
The next day I wrote the following letter :
" 2zrd December, 1894.
" My Darling,
"I suffer much, but I pity you more than I do myself. I know how you love me ; your heart must bleed. On my side, my loved one, my thoughts are always with you, day and night.
" To be innocent, to have led a blameless life, and to be convicted of the most mon- strous crime that a soldier can commit — what can be more dreadful ? It sometimes seems to me that I am the plaything of a horrible nightmare.
"It is for you alone that I have borne it until now ; it is for you alone, my loved one, that I have endured this long martyrdom. Will my strength allow me to continue until the end ? I know not. You alone can give me courage ; it is from your love that I hope to derive it. . . • 24
Five Years of My Life
" I have signed my petition for a revision.
" I dare not speak to you of the children ; the thought of them breaks my heart. Tell me about them ; let them be your consola- tion.
" My bitterness is so great, my heart so envenomed, that I should have already rid myself of this sad life if the thought of you had not stayed me, if the fear of increasing your grief still more had not withheld my hand.
" It is the most shocking moral torture for a man to have heard all that has been said to me, when he knows in his soul and con- science that he has never faltered, that he has never committed even the slightest imprudence.
" I will try, then, to live for you, but I need your aid.
" What is of the first importance is, no matter what becomes of me, to seek out the truth, to move heaven and earth to discover it, to expend, if need be, our fortune, to re- habilitate my name that has been dragged 25
Five Years of My Life
in the mire. The undeserved stain must be washed out at all costs.
" I have not the courage to write to you at greater length. Embrace your dear parents, our children, and every one for me.
" Alfred."
"Try to get permission to see me. It seems to me they cannot refuse it to you
On December 23, the same day, my wife wrote to me :
" 2S^d December, 1894.
" What a misfortune, what torture, what disgrace 1 We are all terrified, crushed by it. I know how brave you are, I admire you. You are an unhappy martyr. I en- treat you, bear these new tortures bravely still. Our life, the fortune of all of us, shall be devoted to seeking out the guilty. We will find them — we must I You shall be rehabilitated.
" We have spent nearly five years of abso- 26
Five Years of My Life
lute happiness ; we must live on the remembrance of it ; one day justice will be done and we shall be happy again ; the children will love you. We will make of your son a man like yourself ; I could not choose a better example for him. I trust I shall be allowed to see you. In any case, be certain of one thing, that, however far away they send you, I shall follow you. I do not know whether the law allows me to accom- pany you, but it cannot prevent my joining you, and I will do so.
*' Once more, courage ! you must live for our children, for me."
" 2zrd December, evening.
" I have just had, in my intense grief, the joy of having news of you, of hearing Me. Demange speak of you in terms so warm, so cordial, that my poor heart was comforted.
" You know that I love you, that I adore you, my own dear husband ; our intense grief, the horrible infamy of which we are 27
Five Years of My Life
the object, do nothing but tighten the links of my affection.
" Wherever you go, wherever they send you, I will follow you ; we shall bear exile more easily together, we will live for each other . . . ; we will educate our children, we will give them a soul well fortified against the vicissitudes of life.
" I cannot do without you, you are my consolation ; the only gleam of happiness that is left me is to finish my days by your side. You have been a martyr, and you have still to suffer horribly. The punishment which will be inflicted on you is odious. Promise me that you will bear it bravely.
" You are strong in your innocence ; imagine that it is some one other than your- self who is being dishonoured ; accept the unmerited punishment ; do it for me, for the wife who loves you. Give her this proof of affection, do it for your children ; they will be grateful to you one day. The poor children embrace you, and often ask for their papa.
" Lucie." 28
Five Years of My Life
I had signed, without hope, my appeal for revision before the Court of MiHtary Re- vision. As a matter of fact, a revision could not be referred to this tribunal except for an mformality ; I did not then know that my conviction had been illegally declared.
Days passed in agonising suspense ; I vacillated between my duty and the horror which a punishment as infamous as it was undeserved inspired in me. My wife, who had not yet been able to obtain permission to visit me, wrote me long letters to sustain me and help me to bear the punishment of degradation.
**2^th December, 1894.
" I suffer beyond anything that you can imagine on account of the horrible tortures that you are undergoing ; my thoughts do not leave you for a moment. I see you alone in your sad prison, a prey to the most gloomy reflections ; I compare our years of happiness, the sweet days we spent together, 29
Five Years of My Life
with the present time. How happy we were, how good and devoted you were to me ! With what perfect devotion you cared for me when I was ill, what a father you have been to our poor darlings ! All this passes and repasses in my mind ; I am unhappy at not having you with me, at being alone. My dear loved one, we must, we absolutely must, be together again ; we must live for each other, for we cannot exist without each other. You must resign yourself to everything, you must bear the terrible trials that are in store for you ; you must be strong and proud in your mis- fortune . • •"
" 25th December, 1 894.
" I weep and weep, and then weep again. Your letters alone bring me consolation in my great grief ; they alone sustain me and comfort me. Live for me, I entreat you, my dear friend ; gather up your strength, and strive — we will strive together until the guilty man is found. What will become of me 30
Five Years of My Life
without you ? I shall have nothing to link me with the w^orld, I should die of grief if I did not hope to be with you once more and to spend many happy years by your side. . . ^' Our children are charming. Your poor little Pierre often asks after you ; I can only answer him with tears. This very morning he asked me if you were coming back this evening. * I am worried, very worried, about my papa/ he told me. Jeanne changes enor- mously ; she speak well, makes sentences, and improves very much. Take courage, you will see them again one day; our dreams, our plans will be renewed, and we shall be able to carry them out."
**26th December^ 1894.
" I have been myself to take your thmgs to the prison office ; I have been in the sad prison where you are undergoing such a horrible martyrdom. For a moment I had the feeling that 1 was nearer to you ; I should have liked to pull down the cold walls that 31
Five Years of My Life
separated us and go to you and embrace you. Unfortunately, that is one of the things that the will is powerless to accom- plish, one of the cases in which all one's physical and moral strength are not strong enough to conquer. I am waiting very im- patiently for the moment when we shall be allowed at last to throw ourselves into
each other's arms
" I am asking an enormous sacrifice of you, that of living for me, for our children, of
striving for reinstatement I should
die of grief if you were no more, I should not have the strength to contmue a struggle for which you alone of all the world can strengthen me."
*' 2'jth December.
**l am never tired of writing to you, of talking to you; they are my sole happy moments ; I can only do this and weep. Your letters do me so much good ; thank you. Continue to spoil me. I will give the children the toys from you ; there is no need 33
Five Years of My Life
of that to make them think of you. You were so good to them that the Httle ones do not forget you. Pierre asks after you often, and in the morning they both come to my
room to admire your photograph
Poor friend, how you must suffer through not seeing them. But keep up your courage ; the day will come when we shall all be to- gether again, all happy, when you can caress and love them.
" I beg you will not trouble yourself about what the crowd thinks. You know how opinions change. . . . Let it suffice you to know that all your friends, all those who know you, are on your side ; intelligent people are trying to solve the mystery."
" 2ist December, 1894.
" I see that you have gathered courage again, and you have given it to me also. . . . Go through the sad ceremony bravely, raise your head and proclaim your innocence, your martyrdom, in the faces of your executioners.
33 C
Five Years of My Life
" When this horrible punishment is over, I will give all my love, all my tenderness, all my gratitude, to help you to bear the rest. When one's conscience is free, with the con- viction that one has done one's duty always and through everything, and with hope in the future, one can bear everything. . . .
" Lucie."
On December 31, 1894, I learned that the appeal for revision had been refused.
The same evening Commandant Du Paty de Clam presented himself at the prison. He came to ask me if I had not committed some act of imprudence, some act of enticement to others. I answered him, earnestly protesting my innocence.
Directly after he had left, I wrote the following letter to the Minister of War :
"Monsieur le Ministre,
" I have received, by your ordei-, the visit of Commandant Du Paty de Clam, to whom I have again declared that I am 34
Five Years of My Life
innocent, and that I have never com- mitted even the least imprudence. I have been found guilty ; I have no favour to ask. But for the sake of my honour, which I hope will one day be restored to me, it is my duty to beg you to be good enough to continue your researches. When I am gone, let them still continue to search ; that is the only favour I beg."
I wrote afterwards to Maitre Demange, to inform him of this visit.
I had previously informed my wife of the rejection of the petition.
^ist December, 1894.
"My dear Lucie,
" The petition has been rejected, as was to be expected. I have just been in- formed of it. Ask again for permission to see me.
"The cruel and disgraceful punishment is close at hand ; I shall face it with the dignity of a pure and calm conscience. If 35.
Five Years of My Life
I were to say that I shall not suffer, it would be to tell an untruth ; but 1 shall not falter. . , .
" Alfred/'
My wife replied :
" 1st January, 1895.
" I sent yesterday afternoon to the Place with my request, and the answer was waited for in vain. Perhaps permission to see you will come to me to-morrow. For what reason can they refuse now ? It would only be cruelty, barbarism. Poor, poor friend . . . How I long to embrace you, console you, and comfort you. My heart bleeds at the thought of the tortures that you have to undergo.
"To think of a beautiful soul like yours, with such lofty ideals, such unchanging good- ness, such exalted patriotism, being tortured with such cruelty, such persistence, and having to pay the penalty — though innocent —for another who is basely hiding himself behind his villainy. It is not possible, it 36
Five Years of My Life
there be any justice, that this traitor should not be discovered, that the truth should not be brought to light.
" Lucie."
At last my wife was allowed to see me.
The interview took place in the prison parlour. This is a grey room, divided in the middle by two parallel latticed gratings ; my wife was on one side of one of the gratings, I was on the other side of the second one.
It was under these dreary conditions that I was allowed to see my wife after all these sad weeks. I was not even allowed to em- brace her, to clasp her in my arms ; we were forced to talk from a distance. Never- theless the joy of seeing her dear face again was great ; I tried to read it, and to see the traces that suffering and grief had left on it.
After she had gone I wrote to her : 37
Five Years of My Life
** Wednesday f 5 o'clock.
" My Darling,
" I want to write you these few words, so that you may find them to-morrow when y6u wake.
*' Our conversation, even through the prison bars, did me good. When going down, my legs trembled under me, but I stiffened myself, so that I might not sink to the ground with emotion. Even at the present moment my hand is not very steady ; this interview has shaken me greatly. If I did not insist upon your remaining longer, it was because my strength was exhausted ; I wanted to go and hide myself and cry a little. Do not think by this that my heart is less courageous or less strong, but my body is rather weak after three months of prison . . .
" What did me most good was to feel that
you are so courageous and so brave, so full
of affection for me. Let us continue, my
dear wife ; we will force the world's respect
38
Five Years of My Life
by our attitude and our courage. As for me, you must have felt that I have made up my mind to everything ; I want my honour and I mean to have it ; no obstacle shall stop me.
'^ Thank everybody ; thank Maitre De- mange in my name for all he has done for an innocent man. Tell him how grateful I am to him ; I was not able to say so myself. Tell him I count upon him in the struggle for my honour.
" Alfred."
The first interview had taken place in the prison parlour. Events had endowed it with such a tragic character that Com- mandant Forzinetti asked and obtained permission to allow me to see my wife in his study, he being present.
My wife came to see me a second time ; it was then that I made her a promise to live and to face bravely the affliction of the lugubrious ceremony that was awaiting me. After her visit I wrote to her : 39
Five Years of My Life
" I am calm ; the sight of you has done me good. The pleasure of embracing you, openly and fully, did me an immense amount of good.
" I could hardly wait for this moment. Thank you for the joy you have given me.
" How I love you, my good darling 1 Let us hope that all this will come to an end some time. I must husband all my strength/
I saw for a few moments also my brother Mathieu, of whose admirable devotion I was fully conscious.
On Thursday, January 3, 1895, ^ learned that the punishment was to take place the next day but one.
•* Thursday morning.
" I am told that the supreme degradation takes place the day after to-morrow. I was expecting it, I was prepared ; nevertheless, the shock was great. I will resist, as I promised you. I will derive the strength that is still necessary for me from your love, 40
Five Years of My Life
from the affection of all of you, from the thought of my darling children, from the supreme hope that the truth will be brought to light. But I must feel that your affection is radiating all around me, I must feel that you are striving with me. So continue your researches without truce or rest . • .
"Alfred."
The degradation took place on Saturday, the 5th of January. I underwent the horrible torture without breaking down.
Previously to the terrible ordeal I waited for an hour in the garrison adjutant's room at the Ecole Militaire. During those trying moments I summoned all my strength ; the remembrance of the fearful months which I had just passed came back to me. In broken accents I recalled the last visit which Com- mandant du Paty de Clam had made to me at the prison. I protested against the 41
Five Years of My Life
vile accusation which had been brought against me. I reminded those around me that I had again written to the Minister to assure him of my innocence. By distorting the words I then uttered, Captain Le-Brun Renault, with a strange lack of conscientious scruples, afterwards gave currency to the story of a so-called confession, of which I first learned even the existence only in January 1899. If I had been informed of it before my departure from France, which took place in February 1895, that is to say more than seven weeks after my public degradation had taken place, I should have endeavoured to stifle this fable at the outset.
After the interval of waiting, I was conducted by an officer and four men to the centre of the square.
Nine o'clock struck. General Barras, who commanded the squad of execution, gave the order to shoulder arms.
I was suffering martyrdom, but I straight- ened myself and made a supreme effort to rally my strength, trying to sustain myself 42
Five Years of My Life
by the remembrance of my wife and children. Immediately after the formal reading of the sentence I exclaimed to the troops :
" Soldiers, an innocent man is degraded. Soldiers, an innocent man is dishonoured ! Vive la France ! Vive I'armee 1 '*
An adjutant of the Republican Guard came up to me and rapidly tore the buttons from my coat, the stripes from my trousers, and the marks of my rank from my cap and coat-sleeves, and then broke my sword across his knee. ... I saw all these emblems of honour fall at my feet. Then, in the midst of my agony, but with head erect, I shouted again and again to the soldiers and the assembled people, " I am inno- cent ! " >
The parade continued. I was compelled to march round the entire square. 1 heard the howls of a deluded mob ; I could feel the shudder with which it looked upon me in the belief that the condemned man in their presence was a traitor to his country, and I made a superhuman effort to create 43
Five Years of My Life
in their hearts the commiseration due to an innocent man unjustly condemned.
The march round the square was at last completed, the torture was over as I thought, but in truth the agony of that memorable day had only just begun.
I was handcuffed, and was taken in the prison van to the common lock-up on the other side of the Alma bridge. . . .
On reaching the end of the bridge I saw through the grated ventilator of the van the windows of the house where many pleasant years of my life had been passed, and where all my happiness was centred. My anguish at this pathetic sight was unspeakable.
On arriving at the lock-up, in my torn and ragged uniform, I was dragged from room to room, searched, photographed, and mea- sured. At length, towards noon, I was taken to the Sante prison and locked in a convict's cell.
My wife was permitted to see me twice a week, in the private office of the governor of the prison, who at all times during my stay 44
Five Years of My Life
under his charge treated me with great kind- ness and consideration.
My wife and I continued to exchange numerous letters during this period.
" Prison de La Sant6, " January 5, 1895.
"My Darling,
"I will not tell you what I have suffered to-day ; your grief is great enough already. I will not augment it.
"In promising you to try to live, in pro- mising you to struggle until my name is rehabilitated, I have made the greatest sacri- fice that a man of upright and sensitive nature, who has been robbed of his honour, can possibly make. I pray to God that my strength may not abandon me ; my mental power is unshaken ; a conscience that has nothing with which to reproach itself sus- tains me, but my patience and physical resources are nearly exhausted.
" I will tell you later, when we are happy 45
Five Years of My Life
again, what I have undergone to-day ; how, in all my tribulations, surrounded by truly guilty men, my heart has bled. I have asked myself what I was domg there. I seemed the victim of hallucination, but alas ! my torn and sullied clothing brought me back rudely to the reality of my situation. The glances of scorn cast on me told me only too well why I was there.
"Alas! why cannot the human heart be laid open by a knife so that the truth it contains may be read. Then all the honest, worthy people who have crossed my path would have said to themselves, 'This is a man of honour ! ' But it is easy to under- stand their feelings; in their place, I could not have restrained my contempt for an officer who, I was assured, was a traitor. But alas ! that is the pity of it ; there is a traitor, but I am not the man."
" January 5, 1895, 7 p.m.
" I have just had a moment of terrible weakness, of tears mingled with sobs, my 46
Five Years of My Life
whole body trembling with fever. It was the reaction after the terrible tortures of the day. It was to be, I felt it ; but alas ! in- stead of being allowed to weep in your arms, to lay my head upon your breast, my sobs have echoed only in the emptiness of my prison. It is over now ; He lifted up my heart. I gather together all my energy. Strong in my conscience, pure and unsullied, I owe myself to my family and to the vindi- cation of my name. I have not the right to falter ; while there remains in me a breath of life I will struggle, hoping that light may soon make manifest the truth. And you also must not relax your efforts to penetrate the mystery. . • •
"Alfred."
From my wife :
" Saturday evening, January 5, 1895.
" What a horrible morning ; what atrocious moments ! No, I cannot think of it ; it causes me too much suffering. I 47
Five Years of My Life
cannot realise that you, my poor friend, a man of honour, you who adore France, you whose soul is so good, whose sentiments are so noble, should suffer the most in- famous punishment that can be inflicted on mortal man. It is abominable.
"You promised me that you would be courageous, and you have kept your word. I thank you for it. The dignity of your demeanour made a deep impression upon many hearts ; and when the hour of rehabili- tation comes, as it will come, the remem- brance of the sufferings that you endured on that terrible day will be graven in the memory of mankind.
" I yearn to be near you, to comfort you, to give you strength. I had so fondly hoped to see you, my poor friend, and my heart bleeds to think that my permit has not yet come, and that I may still have to wait for the happiness of embracing you.
" Our darlings behave well, they are so gay, so happy ; it is a consolation in our terrible misfortune that they should be so 48
Five Years of My Life
young, so unconscious of what is passing around them. Pierre often speaks of you, and with such childlike affection that I cannot restrain my tears.
" Lucie."
• Prison de La Sante, " Sunday, January 6, 1895, 5 p.m.
" Forgive me, my loved one, if in my letters yesterday I poured out my grief and laid bare my torture. I must confide my suffer- ings to some one. What heart is better prepared than yours to receive the overflow- ing grief of mine ? It is your love that gives me courage to live. I cannot help feeling 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 fulfil. You owe yourself to our dear children, to our name, which must be restored to honour. Think, then, of all the noble duties which devolve upon you ; they are onerous, but I know that you will be capable of under- taking and accomplishing them all, if you do 49 »
Five Years of My Life
not permit yourself to be discouraged, and if you preserve your strength.
*' You must struggle, therefore, with your- self ; summon all your energy, think only of
your duties
" Alfred."
From my wife :
" Sunday, January 6, 1895.
" I am much worried at not hearing from you. I am anxious to know how you have borne these horrible moments.
"Two letters from you have just been brought to me. It is a great consolation to receive them, and I thank you. I cannot tell you how grief-stricken I am at the thought of your sufferings. O, heaven ! what martyr- dom. I anticipated that a time would come when you would give way. I am sure it has done you good to weep. My poor dear, we were so happy, so tranquil, we lived only for ourselves and for our children. If only I could be near you to share your sorrow, your sufferings, stay in the same cell, and 50
Five Years of My Life
live the same life as you, I would be almost happy. I should at least have the privilege to console you a little, to comfort you with my affection, and to bestow upon you the attentions which only a woman who loves can give. But I entreat you, keep up your courage. Do not be cast down."
" Monday, January 7, 1895.
" My first occupation this morning is to have a little chat with you, to try to send you a ray of sunshine in your dark cell. 1 suffer so much at the thought of your misery, which I am forbidden to solace, that everything around me which does not remind me of you seems utterly indifferent to me.
" I think only of you, 1 will live only for you, and in the hope that we may soon be re- united. Tell me, I entreat you, all you feel, and the state of your health. I have terrible fears that you will break down ; oh, if I ■could only see you, if I could be with you, to try to make you forget a little your misfortune. What would I not give for such a boon ! " 51
Five Years of My Life
»* January 7, evening.
" What could I say to you, except that I think only of you, that I speak only of you, that my whole soul, my whole mind, are stretched out towards you. I beg, I entreat you to have courage, not to be downcast, not to let grief wear you out, and to keep up your physical strength. We must succeed in re- habilitating you ; we are doing everj^thing, and will do everything, with that object. What is our fortune compared with the honour of a man, of children, of two families ? I shall feel happy to have devoted all that we have to this noble task
" We are all convinced that the mistake will be found out some day, that the guilty person will be discovered, and that our efforts will
be crowned with success
*' Lucie/'
"La Sante Prison, " Tuesday, January 8, 1895.
"... In my saddest moments, in the midst of my attacks of despair, a star
Five Years of My Life
suddenly shines into my brain and smiles upon me. It is yourself, my darling, your loved self, whom I hope soon to see again, and by whose side I will wait patiently until I have restored to me what I hold dearest in this world, my honour, which has never been stained. . . .
"Alfred."
From my wife :
** Tuesday, January 8, 1895.
" I was terribly anxious at not hearing from you, and passed a horrible night ; but I received your dear letter this morning, and it did me good. I cannot understand at all why your letters are so long in coming ; a letter written by you on Sunday does not reach me until Tuesday. . . .
" I have just received permission to see you on Monday and Wednesday, at two o'clock, in the governor's study. You may imagine my happiness 1 . . •
" Lucie." 53
Five Years of My Life
From La Sante Prison :
" Wednesday, January 9, 1895.
"... Really, now that I come to think over it, I wonder how I could have had the courage to promise you to live after my conviction. That Saturday is stamped on my memory in letters of fire. I have the courage of the soldier who can look a danger in the face, but alas ! shall I have the soul of the martyr ? . . .
" I live in hope, I live in the conviction that it is impossible that the truth should not come to light, that my innocence shall not be recognised and proclaimed by this dear France, my native land. . . ."
" Thursday, January 10, 1895.
" I have not slept since two o'clock this morning, for looking forward to seeing you to-day. I fancy I can already hear your beloved voice speaking to me of our dear children, of our dear relatives . . . and I am not ashamed to weep, for it is indeed cruel 54
Five Years of My Life
that an innocent man should suffer the martyrdom that I endure. . . ,
" Alfred/'
From my wife :
" Thursday, January lo, 1895.
" I received last evening your letter of Tuesday, and I have read and re-read it ; I cried when I was alone in my room, and again this morning when I awoke. Last night I enjoyed a little rest ; I dreamed that we were talking together. But what an awakening ! what agony to find myself once more a prey to dark grief ! If I suffer so much, it is for you, who are enduring heroic- ally the most terrible of martyrdoms, for you, who have been morally tortured in the most awful and most undeserved way.
" Lucie."
From La Sante Prison :
"Friday, January 11, 1895.
*' Forgive me if I sometimes complain . . . but I cannot help it. My thoughts of the 55
Five Years of My Life
past are so bitter that I feel the need of pouring the overflow of my heart into yours. We have always understood one another so well, my loved one, that I am sure that your strong and generous heart beats with indig- nation, like mine.
" We were so happy ! All life smiled upon us. Do you remember when I said to you that we could envy nobody anything ? Position, fortune, mutual love, adorable children ... in a word, we had everything.
"Not a cloud in the sky . . . then an awful, unexpected thunderbolt, so incredible, indeed, that even now I sometimes think that I am the victim of a horrible nightmare.
" I do not complain of my physical suffer- ings— you know that I treat such things with contempt ; but to think that a terrible, in- famous accusation is attached to my name, and that I am innocent. . . . Oh, not that ! I have endured all these tortures, all these indignities, because I am convinced that soon or late the truth will be discovered and justice will be done me ! 56
Five Years of My Life
" I can well excuse the anger, the rage of this noble nation when they learned that there was a traitor among them . . . but I am going to live, so that they may know that this traitor is not I.
"Sustained by your love, by the bound- less affection of all our relatives, I will conquer Fate. I do not say that I shall never again have moments of depression, even of despair. Indeed, to submit without complaint to such a monstrous error would need a greatness of soul to which I cannot lay claim, but my heart will remain firm and strong. . . .
" I will live, my loved one, because I want you to be able to bear my name, as you have done up to the present, with honour, with joy, and with love, because, in a word, I want to hand it down intact to our children.
"You must none of you be cast down by adversity ; seek for the truth without intermission or rest. . • •
"Alfred."
57
Five Years of My Life
From my wife :
** Friday f January ii, 1895.
" How pleased I was to spend a few moments with you, and how short they seemed. I was so overcome by emotion that I could not speak to you or exhort you to courage ; poor friend^ how I should have liked to tell you what I think of you, how much I admire you, how I love you, and how grateful I am for the immense sacrifice that you have made for me and for our children. I regretted that I had not spoken to you more of the hope we had of discovering the truth ; we are absolutely convinced of doing so. It is impossible to say how long it will be ; but you must have patience and not despair. As I told you then, we have only one thought, from morning till evening, and all night we are racking our brains to find a clue, some thread to help us to find the villain, the infamous wretch who has destroyed our honour.
58
Five Years of My Life
*' We are uniting intelligence and all our will ; and with all the elements and the perseverance which we add to them, it is im- possible that we should fail to vindicate you.
'^Do not worry yourself about the children ; they have both brave little hearts. . . ."
** Saturday, January 12, 1895.
" I am still shaken by yesterday's inter- view ; I was terribly upset at seeing and talking to you ; it gave me such pleasure that I could not close my eyes all night. It is splendid of you, in spite of all your sufferings, to keep such a valiant heart, such noble and lofty ideals. Yes, we must indeed hope that the day will come when the darkness will break, when your inno- cence will be recognised, when France will rectify her error and see in you one of her bravest, most noble sons. You will be happy once more ; we will spend joyful years together ; you, who made so many plans, who meant to make a man of your son, will still have that joy. Your little 59
Five Years of My Life
Pierre is very good, and his sister is equally so. I used to be very strict with them, you remember, but I confess that now, although always exacting obedience from them, I am often inclined to spoil them. Let the poor children have some pleasure before learning the sadness of life. . . ."
" Sunday, January 13, 1895.
"What patience, what self-denial, what courage you must have to bear this long humiliation ! I cannot express the profound admiration I have for you. The dignity and the willingness with which you accept martyrdom, for my sake and the sake of our children, are superhuman ; I am proud of bearing your name, and when the children are old enough to understand, they will be grateful to you for the sufferings that you have endured for them. . . ."
" Monday, January 14, 1895.
" How sad it is that the short and longed- for moments of our interview have already 60
Five Years of My Life
passed. How long moments of sadness are, and how quickly moments of happiness pass ! Again this interview passed like a dream ; I arrived at the prison happy, and returned from it overwhelmed by sadness. The sight of you did me good ; I could not take my eyes from you, or cease to listen to you, but I suffered horribly at leaving you alone in that gloomy prison, a prey to your grief, to horrible moral torture, to unmerited suffer- ing. . . .
"Lucie."
My wife, worn out by this uninterrupted succession of agitating events, was obliged to take to her bed.
** Friday, January i8, 1895.
"What a sad day I am spending — worse than the others, if possible, for the only shadow of happiness which was granted us was refused to-day. I have been able to get up, but I am not yet strong enough to 61
Five Years of My Life
go out ;• the doctor, in spite of my intense desire to see you and embrace you, feared that I should catch a chill ; he wants me to keep my room until to-morrow. This grieved me very much, and I must confess that I was not very reasonable ; I hid myself and cried.
" Lucie."
This letter reached me only at the lie de Re ; my wife did not yet know of my departure.
VI
^ I left the Sant6 prison on January 17, 1895. As usual in the evening, I had put my cell in order and lowered my couch, and I went to bed at the regular hour, nothing having transpired to give me the slightest hint of my impending removal. I had even been told during the day that my wife had received permission to see me two days later,
Five Years of My Life
as she had not been able to come for nearly a week.
Between ten and eleven o'clock at night I was suddenly awakened and told to prepare at once for my departure. I had only time to dress myself hastily. The delegate of the Minister of the Interior, who, with three warders, had charge of the transfer, showed revolting brutality. He had me hurriedly handcuffed while I was scarcely dressed, and gave me no time even to pick up my eye- glasses. The cold that night was terrible. 1 was taken to the Orleans railway station in a prison van, and then brought in a round- about way to the freight entrance, where were waiting the cars built specially for the transportation of convicts on their way to the penal colonies of Guiana or New Cale- donia. The cars are divided into narrow cells, each barely accommodating a man in sitting posture, and when the door is closed it is impossible to stretch one's legs. I was locked up in one of these cells, my wrists handcuffed, and with irons on my ankles. 63
Five Years of My Life
The night was horribly long ; all my limbs were benumbed. The next morning I was trembling with fever, and able to obtain only, after many demands, a little black coffee with some bread and cheese.
At last, towards noon, the train arrived at La Rochelie. Our departure from Paris was not publicly known, and if on arriving the authorities had embarked me at once for the lie de Re, I should have passed unrecog- nised.
But there were at the station a few loungers who were in the habit of coming to see the arrival of the convicts on their way to the lie de R6. The warders thought it best to wait until the onlookers had gone. But every few minutes the chief warder was called away from the train by the dele- gate of the Ministry of the Interior, and then would return to give mysterious orders to the other guards.
Each of these warders went out in his turn and came back bustlingly, now closing one grating and now another, and whispering 64
Five Years of My Life
in each other's ears. It was clear that this singular manoeuvring would end by attract- ing the attention of the curious, who would say, " There must be an important prisoner in the van, and as he has not been taken out, let us wait and see him." Then once the warders and delegate lost their heads. It seemed that some one had been indiscreet, that my name was pronounced. The news spread abroad and the crowd increased rapidly. I had to remain all the afternoon in the car, hearing the crowd outside, which was becoming more turbulent as time went on. At last, at nightfall, I was taken from the car, and as soon as I appeared the clamour redoubled and blows fell on and around me. The crowd made sudden and angry rushes. I stood impassive in the midst of this throng, for a moment even almost alone, ready to deliver up my body to the fury of the mob. But my soul was my own, and I understood only too well the outraged feelings of these poor deluded people. I should have wished only, in
65 E
Five Years of My Life
leaving my body to their mercy, to have cried out to them their pitiful error. I pushed away the warders who came to my assistance, but they answered that they were responsible for me. How heavy, then, is the responsibility weighing on those others, who, torturing a man, have also abused the con- fidence of an entire nation.
At last I got to the carriage which was to take me away, and after an exciting journey we came to the port of La Palice, where I was embarked in a longboat. The intense cold had continued and my body was benumbed, my head on fire, and my hands and ankles bruised by the irons. The trip lasted an hour.
On my arrival at the lie de R6 in the black night, I was marched through the snow to the prison, where I was received brutally by the governor. At the bureau of registry they stripped and searched me. Finally, towards nine o'clock, crushed in body and soul, I was led to the cell which I was to occupy. A guard-room adjoined my 66
Five Years of My Life
cell, with which it communicated by means of a large grated transom opening above my bed. Night and day, two warders, relieved every two hours, were on guard at this window, and had strict orders not to lose sight of my slightest movement.
The governor of the prison notified me the same evening that when I had inter- views with my wife they would take place at the bureau of registry, in his presence, that he would be placed between my wife and myself, separating one from the other, and that I should not have the right to embrace her, nor even to approach her.
Each day during my stay at the lie de Re, after the walk I was allowed to take in the yard adjoining my cell, I was stripped and searched. A high wall completely separated the yard from the buildings and courtyards occupied by convicts.
But when I went to the yard for my daily walk, all the guards were stationed as sentries along its walls.
The letters exchanged between my wife 67
Five Years of My Life
and myself convey our impressions of this period. The following are a few extracts :
"ILE DE Re,
*^ January 19, 1895.
" On Thursday evening I was roused from my sleep to set out for this place, where 1 only arrived last evening. I will not tell you about my journey for fear of breaking your heart ; suffice it to say that I have heard the justifiable cries of a nation against one whom it thinks a traitor, that is to say, the basest of the base. I no longer know whether I have a heart. . . .
" Will you be good enough to ask, or get some one to ask, the Minister for the follow- ing favours, which he alone can grant : (i) the permission to write to all the members of my family, father, mother, brothers, and sisters ; (2) permission to write and work in my cell. . . .
^* Ai the present moment I have neither pen, ink, nor paper ! They give me the 68
Five Years of My Life
single sheet of paper on which I write to you, and then they take away my pen and ink.
" I do not advise you to come until you are perfectly well. The climate is very severe, and you need all your strength for our dear children in the first instance, and for the object you have in view in the second. As to my routine here, I am for- bidden to speak of it.
" I remind you again that before coming here you must furnish yourself with all necessary permits to see me, you must ask for permission to embrace me, &c. . . ."
"Ile de Re,
"January 21, 1895.
"The other day, when I was insulted at La Rochelle, I wanted to escape from my warders, to present my naked breast to those to whom I was a just object of indignation, and say to them : ' Do not insult me ; my soul, which you cannot know, is free from all stain ; but if you think I am guilty, 69
Five Years of My Life
come, take my body, I give it up to you without regret.' Then, perhaps, when under the stinging bite of physical pain, I had cried * Vive la France ! ' they might have believed in my innocence !
*^ But what am I asking for night and day ? Justice ! justice ! Is this the nine- teenth century, or have we gone back some hundred years ? Is it possible that inno- cence is not recognised in an age of en- lightenment and truth ? Let them search. I ask no favour, but I ask the justice that is the right of every human being. Let them continue to search ; let those who possess powerful means of investigation use them towards this object ; it is for them a sacred duty of humanity and justice. It is impossible then that light should not be thrown upon this mysterious and tragic affair. . . .
^' I have only two happy moments in the
day, but they are so short ! The first is
when they bring me this sheet of paper
that I may write to you ; then I spend a
70
Five Years of My Life
few moments talking to you. The second is when they bring me your daily letter. . . . " I dare not speak of our children. When I look at their photographs, when I see their sweet, gentle eyes, sobs rise from my heart to my lips. , . ."
" Ile de Re,
"January 23, 1895.
" I receive your letters every day, but 1 have not yet received one from any member of the family ; and I, on my side, have not received permission to write to them. I have written to you every day since Saturday ; I hope you have received my letters.
"When I think of what I was only a few months ago, and compare my present miserable condition with it, I confess that I falter, I give way to fierce tirades against the injustice of fate. As a matter of fact, I am the victim of the most terrible mistake of our time. At times my reason refuses to believe it; I feel I am the plaything of a horrible hallucination, that it will all 71
Five Years of My Life
vanish . . . but, alas ! the reaUty is all around me. . . .
From my wife :
'^ Alfred/
" Paris, "January 20, 1895.
"I am in a stupor of terror at not yet having news from you. I suffer horribly ; it seems to me that as they go on torturing you they tear pieces out of my flesh. It is atrocious.
"How I wish I could be near you now, to sustain you with the depth of my affection, to speak some gentle words that might warm again a little your poor heart. . . ."
" Paris,
"January 1895.
". . . . Very fortunately I had not read the newspapers yesterday morning ; my people had tried to conceal from me the knowledge of the ignoble scene at La Rochelle, otherwise I should have gone 72
Five Years of My Life
mad with despair. . . . What unspeakable anguish you must have endured. . . . But the conduct of the mob does not astonish me ; it is the result of reading those wicked journals which live only by defamation scandal, and which have published so and many lies. . . . But be assured, among people who reason, a great change has taken place.
" Lucie."
*^ January 22, 1895.
'' Still no letter from you ; since Thursday I am without news. If I had not been reassured as to your health I should be bitterly anxious. . . .
" I think of you unceasingly ; not a second passes without my suffering with you, and my suffering is so much the more terrible that I am far away from you without news, and that to this torture of every moment there is added such poignant anxiety. It seems as if I could not wait for the permit to rejoin 73
Five Years of My Life
you and hold you in my arms. How many
things I shall have to say to you. First the
news of us all, of our poor children, of the
whole family ; then the superhuman efforts
we are making to discover the key of the
enigma. . . .
" Lucie."
" Paris, " January 23, 1895.
" I have just telegraphed to the director of the prison to request news of you, for I can no longer control my anxiety. I have not received a single letter from you since you left Paris ; I do not understand at all what has happened, and I am so dreadfully worried. I feel sure you must have written me each day, but if so, what is the reason of this delay ? I am unable to find an answer. If only you have received my letters, so that you shall not be uneasy about us. It is fearful to be so far from each other and to be deprived of news. I should like to know that you are strong and coura- geous, to be reassured about your health, 74
Five Years of My Life
and to know that you are less rigorously
treated.
" Lucie."
From the He de R^ :
" January 24, 1895.
" After your letter dated Tuesday, you will have received none from me. How you must be suffering, my poor darling 1 What horrible martyrdom for us both 1 • • ."
" Ile de Re, ''January 25, 1895.
^' Your letter of yesterday has crushed me; grief was written in every word. . . ."
" I do not know on whom or what to fix my ideas. When I review the past, anger rushes to my brain ; it seems so impossible that 1 should have been bereft of everything ; when I think of the present my situation is so miserable that I look upon death as on the forgetfulness of everything ; it is only when I turn towards the future that I have a moment of consolation. . . . 75
Five Years of My Life
"Just now I was looking for several moments at the portraits of our dear chil- dren, but I could not bear the sight of them for long ; sobs almost choked me. Yes, my darling, I must live, I must endure my mar- tyrdom until the end, for the sake of the name that the dear little ones bear. They must learn one day that that name is worthy to be honoured, to be respected ; they must know that if I esteem the honour of many people below mine, I set none above it. . . .
" Henceforth I shall only be able to write to you twice a week."
" Ile de Re,
" January 28, 1895.
"This is one of the happy days of my sad life, for I may spend half an hour with you, chatting and talking. . . .
" Every time they bring me a letter from you, a gleam of joy penetrates my deeply- wounded heart.
" I can no longer look back. Tears over- come me when I think of our past happiness. 76
Five Years ot My Life
I can only look forward, with the supreme hope that soon the great day of light and truth will dawn."
"ILE DE Re,
** January 31, 1895.
" Here at last is another happy day, when I can write to you. I count them, alas ! as happy days ! I have received no letters from you since the one that was handed to me on Sunday last. What overpowering suffering ! Up to now I had every day one moment of happiness — when I received your letter. It was an echo of all of you, an echo of all your sympathies to warm my poor frozen heart. I read over your letter four or five times, I drank in every word ; little by little the written words transformed themselves into spoken words ; I soon seemed to hear you speaking to me, quite close to me. Oh ! delicious music that went to my soul ! Then, for the last four days, nothing more, gloomy sadness, over- powering solitude. . . /' 77
Five Years of My Life
From my wife :
" Paris,
" January 24, 1895.
" At last I have received a letter from you. It reached me only this morning. I was wildly anxious. Oh, the tears I have shed over this poor little letter, which comes to me after so many days of misery ! Even now the news I receive is only from the 19th, the day after your arrival, and this does not reach me till five days later. How little pity they must have to thus maltreat and torture two poor beings who adore each other, and who have in their hearts only upright and honourable feelings, with but one aim and one dream — to find the guilty one, and thus to vindicate their name, the name of their children, which has been un- justly dishonoured. . . ." "
" Paris, ^^ January 27, 1895.
*' This morning I received your dear, kind letter ; it gave me a moment's joy. Forgive 78
Five Years of My Life
me my first letters, which were so despairing. 1 was discouraged for an instant, it is true. I was without news of you and ill with anxiety.
"That time is past, my will has regained its sway once more. I am strong again for the fight. We must both of us live, we must strive for your rehabilitation ; the light must break forth irresistibly. We shall only have the right to die when our task is accom- plished, when our name has been cleared of this stain. Then happy days will return ; I shall love you so much ; your grateful children will love you so tenderly, that all your sufferings, frightful as they may have been, will be forgotten.
" I know that all these letters do not alleviate the fearful sufferings of the present, but you have a noble soul, a will of iron, and a conscience absolutely pure. With such safeguards you must resist, we must both resist together.
" Pierre employed himself this morning in looking at all my photographs of you, on 79
Five Years of My Life
horseback, on your travels, at Bourges. He was happy at showing them to his little sister and prattling about everything that entered his mind. Jeanne listened to him with grave attention.
" Lucie."
" Paris, *^ January 31, 1895.
" No news this morning, as I had hoped. Oh, what a life from day to day, in the hope of a brighter to-morrow.
'' Lucie."
From the lie de Re :
" February 3, 1895
**I have just spent a horrible week. I have been without news from you since Sunday last, that is to say, for eight days. I have imagined that you were ill, then that one of the children was ... I have had all sorts of ideas in my fevered brain ... I have invented all sorts of chimeras. 80
Five Years of My Life
" You may imagine, my darling, all I have suffered, all that I still suffer. In my horrible solitude, in the tragic position in which events as strange as they are incom- prehensible have placed me, I had at least this single consolation — that your heart was near me, beating in unison with mine, sharing all my tortures. . , ."
•' Ile de Re, " February 7, 1895.
" I have been without news of you for ten days. It is impossible to say how I suffer.
*'As to you, you must keep up all your courage and all your strength. I ask it in the name of our deep love, for you must be there to wash from my name the stain that has been put upon it, you must be there to make brave and honest people of our children. You must be there to tell them one day that their father, a brave and loyal soldier, was crushed beneath an overwhelm- ing fatality.
*' Shall I have news of you to-day ? When
81 F
Five Years of My Life
shall I hear that I may have the pleasure and joy of embracing you ? Every day I hope to do so, and nothing comes to break my horrible martyrdom.
" Take courage, my darling ; you will have need of much, much ; you will all need it, both our families. You have not the right to allow yourself to be cast down, for you have a great mission to fulfil, no matter what becomes of me.
" Alfred."
From my wife ;
*• Paris, " February 3, 1895.
" Every morning I suffer a fresh disap- pointment, for the post brings me nothing. What am I to think ? At times 1 ask myself if you are ill, what is happening to you. I fancy to myself everything dreadful, and during the long nights I am a prey to terrible dreams. If I could only be near you to console you and care for you, to help you lo get back your strength. ... I 82
Five Years of My Life
have not yet obtained permission to come and see you. It is so long ; it will soon be three weeks since you left for the lie de Re, without any one of your family being allowed to embrace you.
" Lucie."
''February 4, 1895.
" I have had the happiness of receiving your kind letter. Think a little how happy I am to have news of you, although it has been so long coming, and is dated a week ago Monday. A long week for your gentle words to come to me.
'. • • •
" Paris, "February 6, 1895.
"... I feel such sorrow when I look at our poor children, to think what happiness would be yours to have them near you, and to see them grow up, to watch over their education, and I cannot sometimes keep back the tears that fill my eyes. 83
Five Years of My Life
" It is now nearly four months since you saw the poor darUngs, and they have greatly changed. . . •
"Lucie."
" Paris, " February 7, 1895.
" Your last letter was dated January 28. It took eight days to reach me, and since then I have had no news. It is very hard. I hoped with all my heart to be able to speak with you, if not by word of mouth, at least by letter. And now the scanty bits of news, which take so long a time to come, seem to reach me more and more seldom.
" I am still waiting impatiently for my permit to visit you, and hope to have it soon. I feel the greatest impatience to see you and embrace you, and to read in your eyes your courage, your patience, and your admirable self-denial and devotion to our children. . , ,
" Lucie." 34
Five Years of My Life
" Paris, " February g, 1895.
"This morning I received your letter of January 31. Your sufferings break my heart. I have wept and wept long hours, with my aching head between my hands, and the caresses of my little Pierre were needful to bring back a smile to my lips ; and yet my sufferings are as nothing com- pared with yours. . . .
" Do not be anxious when you receive no letters from me. I write to you every day. It is the only good hour I have. I would not for worlds deprive myself of it.
" Lucie."
" Paris, " February 10, 1895.
" I felt all the glee of a child yesterday evening when at last I received permission to see you twice a week.
" At last the time is coming when I shall have the joy of pressing you to my heart 85
Five Years of My Life
and giving you new strength by my pre- sence.
" I am distressed at your not receiving my letters ; I have not failed a single day in writing to you. I cannot understand the reason of this harsh treatment ; my letters expressed nothing but honourable and natural feelings — bitter grief for a situation so frightfully unjust, and hope that the wrong may soon be redressed.
" Lucie."
My wife had been authorised to see me twice a week, for one hour at a time, on two consecutive days. I saw her the first time on January 13, without having been notified of her arrival. I was brought into the register office of the prison, which was a few steps from the door leading out to the court- yard. The office is a small, long, narrow room, whitewashed and almost bare. My wife was seated at one end, and the governor of the prison in the centre of the apartment, midway between my wife and myself. I 86
Fhe Years of My Life
was required to remain near the door, at the opposite end of the room. In front of the door outside were posted several warders.
The governor notified us that we were forbidden to speak of anything concerning my trial.
Cruelly wounded as we were by the igno- minious conditions under which we were allowed to see each other, and anxious as we were at feeling the minutes slip by with dizzy speed, we still experienced great inward joy at being again together.
Our greatest comfort was to feel acutely that our two souls henceforth were but one, that the intelligence and will of both would henceforth be directed towards the accom- plishment of a single purpose — the detection of the truth and of the guilty one.
My wife came back to see me the follow- ing day, the 14th of February, and then returned to Paris.
The 20th of February she came again to the He de Re j our last two interviews took place on February 20 and 21. 87
Five Years of My I ife
From my wife after her return lo Paris :
" Paris, "February i6, 1895.
'* What emotion, what a fearful shock we both felt at seeing each other again, especially you, my poor, beloved husband. You must have been terribly shaken, not having been warned of my arrival .... The conditions under which they allowed me to see you were really too heartrending. Now that we have been separated so cruelly for four months, to have the right to speak to each other only at a distance is atrocious. How I longed to press you to my heart, to clasp your hands in mine, to be able to console you with my love, poor, dear, lonely one ! My soul was rent asunder when I left Saint Martin, going
away from you '
" Lucie."
A ^
" Ile de Re, " February 14, 1895.
"The few moments I passed with you were full of joy ta~^e, though it was
Five Years of My Life
impossible to tell you all that was in my heart.
" I spent the time in gazing at you, in filling my mind with the remembrance of your face, and in asking myself through what unheard-of fatality I was thus separated from you."
From lie de Re, after having seen my wife:
" ILE DE Re,
^* February 21, 1895. (The day of my departure, though I did not know it.)
** When I see you, the time is so short, I am so anxious for an hour to pass rapidly (which is now so strange to me, for all other hours seem to me so horribly long), that I forget to tell you half of what I had intended
^^ I wanted to ask you whether the voyage
fatigued you, and if the sea had been smooth
I wanted to tell you all the admiration I feel
for your noble character, for your admirable
89
Five Years of My Life
devotion 1 More than one woman would have lost her reason under the repeated attacks of a fate so cruel and so unmerited.
^' I wanted to speak to you at length of the children
" As I told you, I will do my best to still the beating of my wounded heart, to bear this horrible and long martyrdom, that I may witness with you the happy day of my rehabilitation.
" Alfred."
My wife, at the second interview, begged in vain that they should tie her hands behind her back and let her approach me and kiss me ; the governor returned a rude refusal.
On February 21 I saw my wife for the last time. After the interview, which was from two to three o'clock, without either of us having been informed, I was suddenly told that I must get ready for my departure. The preparations consisted in making a bundle of my clothing.
Before the departure I was again stripped 90
I
Five Years of My Life
and searched, and then led between six warders to the dock. There I was embarked on a steam-launch which brought me in the evening to the roadstead of Rochefort. I was taken directly from the launch to the transport Saint-Nazaire. Not a word had been spoken to me. Not a hint had been given as to the place to which I was to be transported. As soon as I reached the Saint- Nazaire they placed me in a condemned prisoner's cell; closed by a simple grating, and situated on the fore deck ; the part of the deck in front of the convict cells was uncovered. The night was dark and the cold fearful, nearly fourteen degrees Centi- grade (about seven degrees Fahrenheit). But only a hammock was given to me, and I was left without food.
The remembrance of my wife, whom I had left a few hours before in complete ignorance of my departure, and whom I had not even been permitted to embrace, the remembrance of my children and all the dear friends whom I had left behind me in sorrow and 91
Five Years of My Life
despair, my uncertainty as to the place whither they were taking me, the situation in which I found myself — all these reflections plunged me into a state which cannot be described ; I could only fling myself upon the floor in a corner of my cell and weep through the dark, cold night.
The next day the Saint-N azaire weighed anchor.
VII
The first days of the voyage were very stormy ; the cold in my open cell was frightful, and sleep in the hammock was well-nigh impossible. For food I had the rations of condemned prisoners handed me in old preserved-meat cans. I was watched by one warder during the day, and at night by two, having their revolvers beside them and being absolutely forbidden to speak to me.
After the fifth day, I was allowed to go 93
Five Years of My Life
on deck one hour each day, accompanied by two warders.
After the eighth day the weather grew gradually warmer, and then became torrid. 1 comprehended that we were nearing the equator ; but I remained in ignorance of the place of my transportation.
After fifteen days of this terrible voyage we arrived, on March 12, 189c;, in the roadstead of the lies du Salut. I had a hint of the place from bits of conver- sation among the warders, when speaking among themselves of places to which they might be sent ; the names of the posts I re- cognised as belonging to localities in Guiana.
I hoped that 1 should be landed at once, but I had to wait nearly four days without going upon deck in this tropical heat and shut close in my cell. In fact nothing had been prepared for receiving me, and every- thing had to be hurried.
On March 15 I was landed and locked in a cell in the prison of the lie Royale ; this strictly close confinement lasted nearly 93
Five Years of My Life
a month. On April 13 I was taken to the He du Diable, a barren rock used previously for the isolation of lepers. The lies du Salut form a group of three
'fl^
^i^i-
^A-C-
CAPTAIN DREYFUS'S OUTLINE SKETCH OF DEVIL'S ISLAND
small islands — the lie Royale, where the commander-in-chief of the prisons of the three islands has his dwelling, the lie Saint- Joseph, and the lie du Diable.
On my arrival at the lie du Diable the following arrangements were adopted con- cerning me; they lasted until 1896. 94
Five Years of My Life
The hut for my occupation was built of stone, and measured four metres square (about thirteen feet). The windows were
95
Five Years of My Life
barred ; the door was a lattice-work of simple iron bars. This door opened out on an entrance two metres square, which was attached to the front of the hut ; the entrance was closed by a solid door of wood. In this entrance was stationed the warder on guard. These warders were re- lieved every two hours ; they were not to lose sight of me, day or night. To facilitate the carrying out of this latter part of their service, the hut was lighted during the night.
By night the door of the entrance was closed inside and out, so that every two hours, when the guard was relieved, there was an infernal racket of keys and chains.
Five warders and their chief were em- ployed in performing the duties of the service and in guarding me.
By day I was allowed to go about only in that part of the island comprised between the landing-place and the little valley where the lepers' camp had been, a space of about two hundred metres (two hundred and twenty yards), and utterly bare ; I was absolutely for- 96
Five Years of My Life
bidden to leave these limits^ under penalty of being confined to my hut. The moment I went out I was accompanied by the warder, who was not to lose sight of a single one of my movements. The warder was armed with a revolver ; later on there was added to this a rifle and a cartridge-belt. I was expressly forbidden to speak to any one whomsoever.
At the beginning my rations w^ere those of a soldier in the colonies, with no wine. I had to do my own cooking, and, in fact, to rely only upon myself.
The following pages are the exact repro- duction of the diary which I wrote from the month of April 1895, until the autumn of 1896 ; it was destined for my wife. This diary was seized with all my papers in 1896, and was never handed over to my wife. I was able to obtain possession of it only at the Rennes trial, in 1899.
97
MY DIARY
(To be placed in the possession of my wife)
Sunday, April 14, 1895.
To-day I begin the diary of my miserable and terrible life. Indeed, it is only' to-day that I have had paper at my disposal ; every sheet is numbered and initialed, so that I cannot conceal or abstract any portion of it. I am responsible for the use made of it ! But what could I do with it ? Of what use could it be to me ? To whom should I give it ? What secret have I to confide to paper ? Each of these questions is an enigma !
Until now I have had faith in reason, I have believed in the logic of things and 98
^ ^
R>
^
N
) ^
Five Years of My Life
events, I have trusted in human justice ! Nothing strange or extravagant has found an abiding place in my mind. Oh, what a crumbling away of all my beliefs and all sound reason 1
What fearful months I have passed, what sorrowful months still await me !
I had decided to kill myself after my iniquitous condemnation. To be convicted of the most infamous crime a man ,can commit, on the strength of a doubtful piece of paper, the handwriting of which was an imitation of my own, or which resembled it — this certainly is enough to drive to despair a man who holds honour to be above all else. My dear wife, so devoted and courageous, has taught me in this time of disaster that, since I am innocent, I have no right to abandon her or voluntarily give up the struggle. I feel that she is right and that my duty is clearly indicated ; but yet 1 am afraid — yes, afraid — of the terrible moral sulTerings I shall have to endure. Physi- cally, I felt myself strong, my conscience
Five Years of My Life
was pure and unsullied, and endowed me with more than human strength ; but my physical and mental tortures have been greater even than I expected, and to-day I am bowed down in body and soul.
However, I have yielded to my wife's entreaties, and have the courage to live I I have undergone the most horrible ordeal that can be inflicted on a soldier — an ordeal worse than any death ; then, step by step, I have traversed the hideous path which has brought me hither, passing through the Sante prison.and the convict depot of the lie de R^, enduring without flinching the insults and cries of the mob, but leaving a fragment of my heart at every turn of the road.
My conscience bore me up ; my reason told me each day that the truth at last must burst forth triumphant ; in a century like ours the light cannot long be suppressed ; but alas 1 each day brought with it a fresh disappointment. The light not only did not break forth, but everything was done to prevent it from appearing.
I09
Five Years of My Life
I was, and am still, kept in the strictest close confinement ; all my correspondence is read and closely examined at the Ministry of the Interior in Paris, and often not for- warded. I have even been forbidden to write to my wife of the investigations which I wished to advise her to have made. It was impossible for me to defend myself.
I thought that, once in my exile, I might find, if not rest — that never can be mine until my honour has been vindicated — at least some tranquillity of mind and body which might permit me to wait for the day of rehabilitation. What a new and bitter disappointment !
After a voyage of fifteen days, shut up in a cage, I first spent four days in the roadstead of the lies du Salut, without going on deck, under a tropical sun. My brain nearly gave way with suffering and despair.
When I was landed, I was locked in a cell of the prison, with closed shutters, pro- hibited from speaking to any one, alone with my thoughts, subjected to the regimen 103
Five Years of My Life
of a convict. My letters had first to be sent to Cayenne. I do not know if they have yet been forwarded.
I remained thus for a month, locked in my cell; without once leaving it, in spite of all the bodily fatigues of my painful journey. Several times I nearly lost my reason ; I had congestion of the brain, and my horror of life was such that the thought came to me to refuse medical aid, and thus court the welcome death which would end my martyr- dom. This would indeed have been deliverance and the cessation of my long agony, for I should not have broken my promise, and my death would have been only natural.
The remembrance of my wife and of my duty towards my children has given me the strength to nerve myself once more. I must not counteract her efforts and abandon her in her mission of seeking out the truth and the true culprit. For this reason I asked to see the doctor, in spite of my strong repugnance to every new face. 104
Five Years of My Life
At last, after thirty days of close confine- ment, they came to remove me to the He du Diable, where I shall enjoy a semblance of liberty. By day, I shall be able to walk about in a space a few hundred yards square, followed at every step by the warders ; at nightfall (between six and half -past six o'clock) I shall be locked in my hut, four yards square, closed by an iron door, before which relays of warders watch me all the night long.
A chief and five warders have been charged with this service and with guarding me ; my rations are half a loaf of bread a day, two-thirds of a pound of meat three times a week, and on other days tinned bacon or spiced meats. To drink I have water.
What a terrible existence of constant suspicion, of ceaseless vigilance, endured by a man who cherishes his honour as dearly as does any man in the world !
And still I never receive any news of my wife and children, though I have learnt that since March 9, nearly three weeks ago, there 105
Five Years of My Life
have been letters for me at Cayenne. 1 have asked thai telegrams may be sent to Cayenne and to France for news of my dear ones. There is no answer.
Oh, how I long to live until the day of rehabilitation, to let the world know my sufferings and give peace to my aching heart. Shall I bear up until that day dawns ? I often have doubts, my heart is so broken and my health so shaken.
^unday night, April 14-15, 1895.
It is impossible for me to sleep. This cage, before which the guard walks up and down like a phantom in my dreams, the torment of the vermin which infest me, the smouldering in my heart that I, who have always and everywhere done my duty, should be in this horrible place — all this excites and agitates my nerves, which are already shattered, and drives away sleep. When shall I again pass a calm and tranquil night ? Perhaps not until I am in the grave,
3
Five Years of My Life
when I shall sleep the sleep that is ever- lasting. How sweet it will be to think no longer of human vileness and cowardice !
The ocean, which I hear moaning beneath my little window, has always for me a strange fascination. It soothes my thoughts as it did before, but now they are very bitter and sombre. It recalls dear memories to mind, the happy days I have passed at the sea-side, with my wife and darling children.
I have again the violent sensation which I felt on the ship, of being drawn almost irre- sistibly towards the sea, whose murmuring waves seem to call to me, like some great comforter. This mysterious influence of the sea over me is powerful ; on the voyage from France I had to close my eyes and call up the image of my wife to avoid yield- ing to it.
Where are the bright dreams of my youth and the ambitions of my manhood? Nothing longer lives within me ; my brain w^anders under the stress of my thoughts. What is the hidden mystery of this drama ? Even now 107
Five Years of My Life
I comprehend nothing of what has passed. To be condemned without palpable proof, on the strength of a forged scrap of hand- writing ! Whatever the soul and conscience of a man may be, is there not more than enough here to demoralise him ?
The sensitiveness of my nerves, after all this torture, has become so acute that each new impression, even from without, produces on me the effect of a deep wound.
The same night,
I have just tried to sleep, but after dozing for a few minutes I awoke with burning fever ; and it has been so every night for six months. How has my body been able to resist such a combination of torments, phy- sical as well as moral ? It seems to me that a clear conscience, assured of itself, must impart invincible strength.
I open the blind which closes my little window and look again upon the sea. The sky is full of great clouds, but the moonlight io8
Five Years of My Life
filters through, tinging certain portions of the sea with silver. The waves break power- less at the foot of the rocks which define the form of the island. There is a constant lapping of the water as it plays on the beach, with a rude staccato rhythm that soothes my wounded soul.
And in this night, in the deep calm, there come back to my memory the dear images of my wife and children. How my poor Lucie must suffer from so undeserved a fate, after having possessed everything to make her happy ! And happy she so well deserves to be, by her noble uprightness and loftiness of character, by her tender and devoted heart. Poor, poor dear wife ! I cannot think of her and of my children without being stirred in every fibre of my being. I can only sob. My thoughts of them ako inspire me to do my duty.
I am going to try to study English. Per- haps the work will help me to forget awhile my sorrows.
icg
Five Years of My Life
Monday y April 15, 1895.
There was a deluge of rain this morning. No breakfast was sent me. The warders took pity on me and gave me a Httle black coffee and bread.
When there was an interval in the storm, I made the round of the small portion of the little island which is reserved to me. It is a barren place ; there are a few banana-trees and cocca-palms, and dry soil from which basaltic rocks emerge everywhere.
At ten o'clock they bring me my day's food ; a bit of canned bacon, a few grains of rice, a few green coffee berries, and a little brown sugar. I throw it all into the sea * and then try to make a fire. After several fruitless efforts I succeed. I heat water for my tea. My luncheon consists of bread and tea.
♦ I threw it all into the sea because the canned bacon was not eatable, the rice, which was brought to me in a filthy state, was offensive, and I had nothing with which to roast the coffee berries, which, in bitter derision, were given me raw. no
Five Years of My Life
What endless agony I am compelled to endure ! What a sacrifice I have made in consenting to live ! Nothing will be spared me, neither moral torture nor physical suffering.
Oh, that restles«5 ocean, which is always muttering and howling at my feet ! What an echo to my soul 1 The foam of the waves which break upon the rocks is so milky white that I could roll myself away with it and be lulled to rest.
Monday y April 15, evening,
I narrowly escaped having once more only a scrap of bread for my dinner, and I was fainting. The warders, seeing my bodily weakness, passed in to me a bowl of their broth.
Then I smoked, smoked to calm both my brain and the gnawing of my stomach. I again sent to ask the Governor of Guiana, as I had already done a fortnight ago, that I might live at my own expense, obtaining III
Five Years of My Life
canned food from Cayenne, as the law allows me to do.
Dear wife, at this very moment perhaps your thoughts echo my own. Have you any conception of the horrible martyrdom I am undergoing ? Yes, you must feel all that I suffer from such a lamentable misfortune.
How the thought cuts me to the heart, that I have been condemned for so hateful a crime without comprehending anything about it ! If there is justice in the world, my honour must be given back to me and the guilty wretch, the monster, must suffer the punish- ment that his crime deserves.
Tuesday, April i6, 1895.
At last I have been able to sleep, thanks to extreme exhaustion.
My first thought as I woke was of you, my dear and beloved wife. I asked myself what you were doing at the same moment. You must have been occupied wdth our darling children. May they be your solace and 112
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inspire you with your duty if I give way before the end.
I have been out to cut firewood. After two hours of effort, I succeeded in getting together enough for my needs. At eight o'clock they bring me a piece of raw meat and a little bread. I kindle my fire, but the smoke is blown in my face by the sea-breeze, and my eyes are smarting. As soon as I have embers enough I put the meat on a few bits of iron which I have gathered together here and there, and cook it as well as I can. I breakfast a little better than yesterday, but the meat is tough and dry. As to my bill of fare for dinner, it was very simple — bread and water. The labours of the day have worn out my strength,
Friday, April 19, 1895.
I have not written anything for some days. All my time has been spent in the struggle for life, for I will resist to the last drop of my blood, no matter what punishments they inflict on me. The diet has not
113 H
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changed ; they tell me they are still waiting for orders.
To-day I boiled my meat with salt, and flavoured it with the wild peppers I had found in the island. This lasted three hours, during which my eyes suffered atrociously. How miserable !
And still I am kept without any news from my wife and my dear ones. Are the letters intentionally withheld from me ?
Exhausted as I feel, it occurs to me that I may quiet my nerves by splitting the wood for to-morrow. I go to look for the hatchet in the kitchen. "You cannot enter the kitchen ! " shouts the guard. And I turn back silently, but with head erect. Oh, if I could only live in my hut without ever leav- ing it ! But I am compelled to take some food or die of starvation.
From time to time I try to study English, to write translations, and to forget myself in my work. But my brain is so utterly shaken that it refuses to labour ; after a quarter of an hour I am forced to give up the task. 114
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And then what appears to me so unheard- of and inhuman is that they intercept all my correspondence. I am fully aware that they are enjoined to take every possible and ima- ginable precaution to prevent any escape ; that is the right, and I will even say the strict duty of the prison administration. But that they should thus bury me alive, prevent any communication, even by open letter, with my family — that is contrary to all justice. 0[n£« might ijmagine the world had gone back to Jhe MiddleAges J For six months I am kept in close confinement, without the power of assisting those who are working for the vin- dication of my honour.
Saturday f April 20, 1895 5 1 1 o'clock in the morning.
I have finished my cooking for the day. This morning I cut my portion of meat in two ; one piece is to boil, the other is for a steak. To cook the latter I have manufactured a grill with an old piece of sheet iron which I 115
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picked np in the island. For drink I have water. And all my kitchen utensils are pots of old rusty iron without anything to clean them with, and without plates. I must summon all my courage to live under such conditions, with the further drawback of acute mental torture.
Utterly exhausted, I am going to seek rest on my miserable pallet.
Next day ; i o'clock a.m.
To think that in the nineteenth century, in a country like France, imbued with ideas of justice and truth, such incredible wrongs can be inflicted ! I have written to the President of the Republic, I have written to the Ministers, always asking them to search for the truth. They have not the right thus to allow the honour of an officer and his family to be overthrown with no other proof of culpability than a bit of hand- writing, when the Government possesses the means of investigation necessary to elicit ii6
Five Years of My Life
the truth. It is justice that I demand aloud, in the name of my honour.
I was so hungry this afternoon that, to stifle the gnawings of my appetite, I de- voured, raw, ten tomatoes which I found in the island.*
Night of the Saturday to Sunday y April 25, 1895.
The night was feverish. I dreamed of you, dear Lucie, and of our dear children, as I do every night.
How you must suffer, my poor love 1
Happily, our children are still too young to know, else what an apprenticeship to life would be theirs ! As for me, no matter what my martyrdom, my duty is to go to the end of my strength without faltering. I shall not fail.
I have just written to Commandant Du Paty to remind him of the two promises he
* The lepers had cultivated the island a little, and there are still traces of their work. The tomatoes, which now grow wild, were very numerous. 117
Five Years of My Life
made me after sentence was pronounced : (i) In the name of the Minister to continue the investigations ; (2) in his own person- ahty to inform me as soon as there should be new leakages at the Ministry.
The wretched man who is the real author of the crime is on a fatal downward path, and will not be able to pause.
Sunday, April 21, 1895,
The chief commandant of the islands was kind enough to send me, this morning, along with my meat, two tins of condensed milk. Each tin holds about three quarts ; by drink- ing a quart and a half a day, I shall have enough milk for four days.
I stop boiUng the meat, which I could not make eatable. This morning I have cut it into two slices, and shall broil one of them for the morning meal, and one for the evening.
In the intervals of providing for my living, I continually think of my darling wife and 118
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all my dear ones, and of all they must suffer !
Will the day of justice soon dawn ?
The days are long, and so are the minutes of each hour. I am incapable of any serious physical work ; moreover, from ten o'clock in the morning until three o'clock in the afternoon, the heat is so great that it is not possible to go out. I cannot work at English the whole day ; my head will not allow of it. And I have nothing to read. I am always alone with my thoughts !
I was in the midst of lighting a fire to make my tea. The boat arrives from the ile Royale ; I have to retire into my hut ; these are my instructions. Are they afraid I shall communicate with the convicts ?
Monday f April 22, 1895.
I rose at daybreak, to wash my linen, and to dry my cloth garments immediately after- wards in the sun. Everything here becomes damp, owing to the mixture of humidity and 119
Five Years of My Life
heat. We have continual short torrential rain stormS; followed by tropical heat.
Yesterday I asked the commandant of the islands for one or two plates, no matter of what sort ; he replied that he had none. I am obliged to tax my ingenuity to find some- thing to eat from ; sometimes it is paper, sometimes it is old pieces of sheet iron, picked up on the island. The amount of filth I eat in this way is incredible. But I always make an effort to bear up against everything, for the sake of my wife and my children. And always alone, thrown back upon myself, with my thoughts. What martyrdom for an innocent man ; certainly greater than that of any of the Christian martyrs.
Still no news of my family, in spite of my repeated requests ; I have been without letters for two months.
Just now I received some dried vegetables in some old preserved-meat tins. In making use of these tins, in washing them and trying to turn them into plates, I cut my fingers. 1 20
Five Years of My Life
I have just been informed, too, that I shall have to wash my linen myself. Now, I have nothing to do this with. I worked at that for two hours, but the result is not very satisfactory. The linen will always have to be soaked in water.
I am worn out. Shall I be able to sleep ? I fear not. I am such a mixture of physical weakness and extreme nervousness that when I am in bed my nerves get the upper hand of me, and my anxious thoughts turn to my family,
Tuesday, April 23, 1895.
Still the same struggle for life. I have never perspired so much as I did this morning, when I was out cutting wood. I have simplified my meals still more. This morning I made a kind of stew with beef and white beans ; I ate half of it this morning ; the rest is for this evening. Thus, I shall have to cook only once a day.
But this food, cooked in old rusty iron 121
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utensils, gives me violent pains in the stomach.
Wednesday, April 24, 1895.
To-day canned bacon : I threw it away. I am going to make myself a stew of dried peas ; this will be my food for the day. Internal pains almost continually.
Thursday, April 25, 1895
They dole me out boxes of matches one by one — I cannot understand why, as they are safety-matches — and I have always to return the empty box. This morning I could not find the empty box ; a scene and threats ensued. I found it at last in one of my pockets.
Night of Thursday-Friday,
These sleepless nights are awful. I get through the days somehow, with the help of my thousand domestic duties. I am, as a matter of fact, obliged to clean out my
133
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hut, do my cooking, look for and cut up wood, and wash my linen.
But as soon as I lie down, however ex- hausted I may be, my nerves get the upper hand of me, and my brain begins to work. I think of my wife, of the sufferings that she must be enduring ; I think of my dear children, of their gay and thoughtless prattling.
Friday y April 26, 1895.
To-day, canned bacon : I threw it away. The commandant of the islands came after- wards and brought me some tobacco and tea. I should have preferred condensed milk to tea ; I had applied for it, too, from Cayenne, for the internal pains are con- tinuous. They have lent me four flat plates, two deep ones, and two saucepans, but nothing to put in them.
They brought me, too, some reviews, sent me by my wife. But still no letters ; it is really too inhuman.
I am writing to my wife; this is one of 123
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my rare tranquil moments. I always exhort her to courage, to energy ; for it must be made apparent to all the world, without exception, that our honour is, as it has always been, pure and stainless.
This terrible heat saps all one's strength and physical energy.
Saturday y April 27, 1895.
On account of the great heat at ten o'clock m the morning, I have planned out my time differently. I rise at daybreak (5.30) ; I light a fire to make my coffee or tea. Then I put the dried vegetables on the fire ; afterwards I make my bed, clean my room, and begin dressing.
At eight o'clock they bring me my rations for the day. I finish cooking the dried vegetables ; on meat days I cook the meat. In this way all my cooking is done by ten o'clock, for I eat cold in the evening what is left of the morning meal^ as I do not care to spend another three hours in front of the fire in the afternoon.
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Five Years of My Life
At ten o'clock I breakfast. I read, I work, I dream, and, above all, I suffer, until three o'clock. Then I complete my toilet. When the hottest part of the day is over, that is to say, about five o'clock, I go out and cut v^ood, draw water from the well, wash my linen, &c. At six o'clock I eat cold what remains from breakfast. Then I am locked up. This is when time hangs most heavily. I have not been able to per- suade them to let me have a lamp in my hut. Of course the warders have a watch- lamp, but its light is not strong enough for me to be able to work by it for long. So there is nothing left for me but to go to bed; and then it is that my brain begins to work, that all my thoughts turn towards the fright- ful drama of which I am the victim, and to my wife and children, and all who are dear to me. How they must be suffering also 1
Sunday, April 28, 1895.
It is blowing a hurricane. Squalls come up one after the other, and make a lottd, 125
Five Years of My Life
sonorous noise, things collide and dash against one another ! How like my state of mind in its attacks of violence ! I should like to be strong and powerful like the wind which is shaking the trees and tearing them up by the roots, that I might hurl from my path all the obstacles which bar the way to truth.
I want to fling aside all my sufferings, to cry aloud all the rebellion that is in my heart against the ignominy which has been heaped upon an innocent man and his family ! Ah ! what punishment does not the man deserve who has committed this crime ! Guilty to- wards his country, towards an innocent man, towards a whole family given over to despair — that man must be unlike anything in nature.
I learned to-day how to wash cooking utensils. Hitherto I have been cleaning them simply with hot water, using my hand- kerchiefs for dish-cloths. In spite of all my efforts, they remained dirty and greasy. 1 thought of ashes, which contain a large pro- 126
Five Years of My Life
portion of potash. This succeeded admirably, but what a state my hands and my handker- chiefs are in !
I have just been told that, until further orders, my linen will be washed at the in- firmary. This is a good thing, for I perspire so freely that my flannels are completely saturated and want a thorough cleansing. Let us hope that this temporary order will become final.
Same day, 7 o'clock in the evening,
I have been thinking much of you, my dear wife, and of our children. We used to spend the whole of Sunday together. The time has passed slowly, very slowly, my thoughts darkening in proportion as the day advanced.
Monday^ April 29, 10 A.M.
Never have I been so tired as I was this morning. I have had to make several jour- neys for wood and water. In addition to this, the breakfast that is waiting for me
127
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consists of stale beans, which have already been on the fire for four hours, and refuse to cook, a little tinned beef, and water for drink. In spite of all my mental energy, my physical strength will give way if this regimen continues much longer, especially in a climate which is so enervating in itself.
Midday.
I have been trying to sleep a little, but in vain. I am worn out with fatigue, but as soon as I lie down the remembrance of all my troubles comes back to me, all the bitterness of so unmerited a fate rises from my heart to my lips. My nerves are too tightly strained for me to be able to enjoy a refreshing sleep.
In addition to this, the weather is stormy, the sky is overcast, the heat heavy and stifling.
I should like to see the rain come down
and refresh this everlastingly humid climate.
The sea is of a glaucous green, the waves
seem heavy and massive, as if concentrating
128
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themselves for a great upheaval. How pre- ferable death would be to this slowjaggny,,, this n.ever-ceasin_g^. moral, mar^ But
this is denied me ; for the sake of Lucie and my children I am obliged to struggle on to the end of my strength.
Wednesday, May i, 1895.
Ah, these dreadful nights ! Nevertheless I rose yesterday morning as usual at half-past five, I worked hard all day, I took no siesta, towards evening I sawed wood for nearly an hour, until my arms and legs were trembHng, and in spite of all this I did not fall asleep until midnight.
If I could only read or work in the evening, but they lock me up without a light, about six or half-past ; my hut is simply and insuf- ficiently lighted by the warders' watch-light, yet when I am in bed even this is too much.
Thursday f May 2, 11 o'clock.
The post from Cayenne arrived last even- ing. Has it brought me letters, news of my 129 I
Five Years of My Life
family ? This is the question I have been asking myself the whole morning. But I have been so often deceived during these last months, I have learnt so many things about the human conscience, that I doubt every- thing and everybody except my own family. I have great hope, I am sure, that they will clear up the mystery, such high ideals of honour have they ; they will take neither truce nor rest until their object has been attained.
I wonder, too, whether my letters reach my wife. What a sad and terrible martyrdom is this for both of us, for all of us I
But I must be strong ; I must have my honour, and that of my children.
My isolation is so complete that it often seems to me that I have been buried alive.
Same day^ 5 P.M.
The boat is in sight, coming from the lie Royale. My heart beats as if it would break. Is it bringing me at last the letters from my 130
Five Years of My Life
wife that have been at Cayenne for more than a month ? Shall I at last read her deai thoughts, shall I receive the echo of her affection ?
I experienced an overwhelming joy on being told there were letters for me at last, which was followed immediately by a cruel, horrible reaction, on finding out that they were letters addressed to the lie de Re, and previous to my leaving France. Can they be intercepting the letters that are sent to me here ? Or are they sent back to France, that they may be read first ? Could they not at least inform my family, if this were so, so that they might take the letters straight to the Ministry ?
Nevertheless, I sobbed bitterly over these letters dated more than two months and a half ago. Is it possible to imagine a parallel case ? All night I shall dream of Lucie, of my beloved children, for whom I must live.
No news, either, of the things I ordered from Cayenne, such as cooking utensils or food ; nothing has reached me. 131
Five Years of My Life
Saturday, May 4, 1895.
How long the days are, spent all by myself, without news of any of my people. All day long I ask myself what they are doing, how they are getting on, what is the state of their health, how are the researches progressing ? The date of the last letter I received was February 18.
The mornings slip away, so busy am I with the struggle for existence, from half-past five in the morning until ten o'clock. But the food I take does little towards keeping up my strength. To-day, canned bacon. I breakfasted on dried peas and bread. Menu of dinner, the same.
I jot down here and there the petty worries of my daily life, but they disappear very quickly before a far greater trouble — that of my honour.
I suffer not only from my personal tor- tures, but on Lucie's account and that of my family. If they only get my letters I How 132
Five Years of My Life
anxious they must be on my account; in addition to all their other worries.
Same day, evening.
In the silence which reigns around me, broken only by the beating of the waves Against the rocks, I recollected the letters that I wrote to Lucie when first I came here, in which I described all my sufferings to her. And my poor wife must be suffering enough from this terrible state of affairs without my breaking her heart with my complaints. I must overcome my feelings by sheer force of will ; by my example I must give my wife the strength necessary for her to accomplish her mission.
Monday, May 6, 1895.
Always alone with my thoughts, without news of my family. And I must live with my troubles, and I must endure my horrible martyrdom with dignity, to inspire my wife, all my family, with courage, for assuredly 133
Five Years of My Life
they are suffering as much as I am. Accept your fate until the day of light shall dawn ; you must, for the sake of your children.
I try in vain to quiet my nerves by physical work, but neither the climate nor my strength allow me to do so.
Tuesday y May 7, 1895.
A torrential downpour since yesterday. In the intervals, a hot and oppressive damp- ness.
Wednesday f May 8, 1895.
I have been so unnerved to day by this deathlike silence, and being without news of my family for nearly three months, that I tried to quiet my nerves by sawing and chopping wood for nearly two hours.
By sheer dint of will I forced myself to work at my English again ; I do so for two or three hours a day.
Thursday, May 9, 1895.
This morning, after rising as usual at day- break and making my coffee, I had a fainting 134
Five Years of My Life
fit, followed by a profuse perspiration. I had to lie down on my bed.
I must struggle against my weakness ; I must not break down until my honour had been restored. Then only shall I have the right to have fainting fits.
In spite of all my resolutions I had a violent attack of weeping when I thought of my wife and my children. Oh I the day must come, my honour must be restored to us 1 Otherwise I would rather know that both my children had died.
A terrible day. An attack of weeping, an attack of nerves ; nothing was wanting. But the mind must dominate the body.
Friday f May lo, 1895. A violent fever last night. The portable medicine-chest given to me by my wife has not been sent to me.
Saturday, May 11, Sunday, 12, Monday, 13. Bad days. Fever, gastric troubles, disgust of everything. What is going on in France 135
Five Years of My Life
all this time ? How are the researches pro- gressing ?
Thursday f May i6, 1895.
Continued fever. A worse attack yester- day evening, followed by congestion of the brain. I got them to send for the doctor, for I must not lose ground in this way.
Friday y May 17, 1895.
The doctor came yesterday evening. He ordered me forty centigrammes of quinine a day, and is going to send me twelve boxes of condensed milk and some bicarbonate of soda. So I shall be able to put myself on a milk diet, and shall not have to eat the food that is so repugnant to me that I have taken nothing for four days. I should never have believed that the human body had such power of resistance.
Saturday y May 18, 1895.
The boxes of condensed milk from the infirmary are not very fresh, but at any rate 1^.6
Five Years of My Life
they are better than nothing. A few minutes ago I took forty centigrammes of quinine.
Sunday, May 19, 1895.
A wretched day. Unintermittent tropical rain. The fever has abated, thanks to the quinine.
That I may have them always under my eyes, I have placed the portraits of my wife and my children on my table. I must use all my energy, all my will, in their behalf.
Monday, May 27, 1895.
One day is like another, dull and mono- tonous. I have just written to my wife to tell her that my moral energy is greater than ever.
I must, I will, have the broad light of day thrown upon this miserable business.
Ah, my children ! I resemble a wild animal, over whose dead body the hunter must pass in order to reach its young. 137
Five Years of My Life
Wednesday f May 29, 1895.
The rain continues ; the weather is heavy, stifling, enervating. Oh, my nerves ! how I suffer with them. And to think that I cannot even expend my tremendous energy, my will-power, in vegetating, to say nothing of hving.
But every dog has his day 1 The wretch who committed this infamous crime will be unmasked. Oh, if I only had him here for five minutes, I would make him undergo all the torments that he has been the means of making me suffer ; I would tear out his heart and his entrails without pity,
Saturday, June i, 1895.
The mail from Cayenne has just passed under my eyes. Shall I get recent news of my wife and my children ? Since I left France, that is, since February 20, I have had no news of my family. Ah ! I shall soon have run the whole gamut of suffering and torture.
138
Five Years of My Life
Sunday y June 2, 1895.
Nothing, nothing I Neither letters nor instructions on my behalf ; always the silence of the tomb.
But I will bear up, supported by my con- science and the knowledge that I am right.
Monday f June 3, 1895.
The mail, on its way to France, has just passed. My heart palpitated and beat as if it would break.
The mail is carrying you my last letters, my dear Lucie, in which I always entreat you to have courage, courage. The whole of France must learn that I am a victim and not a culprit.
A traitor I At the mere word, my blood rushes to my brain, my whole being trembles with rage and indignation. A traitor ! the basest of scoundrels ! Ah, no I I must live, I must conquer my sufferings, that I may witness the day of triumph when my inno- cence shall be fully recognised 1 139
Five Years of My Life
Wednesday, June 5, 1895.
How long the hours are ! No more paper on which to write, to work, in spite of my repeated requests for the last three weeks ; nothing to read ; no means of escaping from my thoughts.
No news of my family for three months and a half.
Friday y June 7, 1895.
I have just received some paper and some reviews.
It is pouring in torrents to-day.
My brain pains me terribly as soon as I begin to think.
Sunday, June 9, 1895.
My heart is so bruised that everything wounds me. Death would be a dehver- ance ; but I must not think of that.
Still no news of my dear ones. 140
Five Years of My Life
Wednesday J June 12, 1895.
At last I have received letters from my wife and family. They are some that arrived at the end of March ; they have most certainly been sent back to France. It takes more than three months, then, for letters to reach me.
How clearly I can see sorrow, the over- whelming sorrow of them all, in every line. I reproach myself more than ever for writ- ing, when first I, came here, those harrowing letters to my wife. I should have borne my sufferings alone, without allowing others, who have troubles enough of their own to bear, to share my cruel torments.
Then there is always this constant, un- heard-of, incomprehensible suspicion, which adds still more to the wounds of my already lacerated heart.
When he brought my letters, the com- mandant of the islands said to me :
** They ask at Paris whether you and your 141
Five Years of My Life
family have not agreed on a secret corre- spondence code."
" Search for it," I said. *' What else do they think?"
" Oh ! " he repHed, " they do not appear to beUeve in your innocence."
" Ah ! I hope to live long enough to answer all the infamous calumnies which have sprung from the imagination of people blinded by hate, passion, and prejudice."
So, for all of us, the light must be com- plete and dazzling, not only concerning my condemnation, but also in reference to every- thing that has been said and done since.
I have received my kitchen utensils, and, for the first time, canned food from Cayenne. Material life is indifferent to me, but in sustaining it with care I shall be better able to keep up my strength.
The convict labourers are to come in a few days to do some work on the island. So I am locked in my hut for fear that 1 shall communicate with them. Oh, the repulsiveness of mankind ! 142
Five Years of My Life
Here I interrupt my diary to give a few extracts from my wife's letters, which I received June 12. These letters had really reached Cayenne at the end of March, and had then been sent back to France to be read at the Colonial Ministry, as well as at the Ministry of War. Later on, my wife was told that she would have to deposit at the Colonial Ministry, on the 25th of each month, the letters which she wished forwarded to me. She was forbidden to write about my case or of events relating to it, and which were well known, even in public. Her letters were read, studied, passed through many hands, and often did not reach me at all. Of course they could have no feature of privacy. At last, on account of the surveillance of which she was the object, she had to refrain from mentioning any of the efforts made to discover the truth, for fear that those who were interested in our ruin and in smother- ing the facts should take advantage of them.
143
Five Years of My Life
" Paris, " February 23, 1895.
" My dear Alfred.
" I was deeply moved when I learned, directly after I returned, that you had left the He de Re. You were very far from me, it is true, and yet I could see you every week, and I waited longingly for those meetings. I read your fearful sufferings in your eyes, and dreamed only of lessening them for you a little. Now I have only a single hope, one desire, to come to join you and exhort you to patience, and, by dint of my affection and tenderness, to make you await calmly the hour of rehabilitation. This is now the final stage of your suffer- ings ; I hope, at least, that on the ship, during the long voyage, you met humane persons, touched at the spectacle of an innocent man and a martyr. ...
"Not a second passes, my adored husband, without my thoughts being with you. My days and nights df^ on in continual 144,
Five Years of My Life
anxiety for your health and your strength of will. Only think ! I am in total ignorance about yoU; and shall know nothing until you arrive I . • ."
" Paris, ** February 26, 1895.
'* Day and night I think of you, I share your sufferings ; my anxiety is dreadful at feeling that you are going so far away, sailing on the sea, where storms may come to add to your moral torture by physical suffering. What fatality is it that we should be so cruelly tried ?
" I am filled with yearning to be near you, and, by my affection and tenderness, to be able to calm your immense sorrow a little. I have asked the Colonial Minister for per- mission to rejoin you, and as the law allows the wives and children of those who are transported to accompany them, I do not see what objection there can be urged to this. So I am waiting for the answer with feverish impatience. . . ."
Five Years of My Life
" Paris,
** February 28, 1895.
'M cannot tell you the sadness and the grief I feel while you are going farther and farther away ; my days pass in anxious thoughts, my nights in frightful dreams ; only the children, with their pretty ways and the pure innocence of their souls, succeed in reminding me of the one compelling duty I must fulfil, and that I have no right to give way ; so I gather strength and put my whole heart into bringing them up as you always desired, following your good counsels, and endeavouring to make them noble in heart, so that, when you come back, you shall find your children worthy of their father, and as you would have moulded them."
" Paris, " March 5, 1895.
" With my last letter I forwarded to you a packet of reviews of every kind that may interevSt you, and which will help you, as far 146
Five Years of My Life
as possible, to make the hours a little less long while waiting for the good tidings of the discovery of the guilty one.
" Provided; O God ! that the existence awaiting you there be not too terrible, that you may not be deprived of what is abso- lutely necessary, and that you may be able to endure the rigorous treatment inflicted on you. . . .
"Since your departure from France my suffering is doubled ; nothing can equal the fearful anxiety which tortures me. I should be a thousand times less wretched if I could be with you. I should at least know how you are, the state of your health and your energy, and on this score my anxiety would be at rest.
" Lucie."
continuation of my diary
Saturday f June 15, 1895.
The whole week I have been locked up in my hut on account of the presence of the 147
Five Years of My Life
convicts who came to work at the warders' quarters.
Nothing but suffering.
Wednesday, June 19, 1895.
Dry heat ; the rainy season is near its end. I am covered with sores from the stings of mosquitoes and other insects. But all this is nothing ! What are my physical sufferings as compared with the horrible tortures of the soul ? Only infinitesimal. It is the aching head and heart which cry aloud with grief. When will the guilty one be discovered, when shall I know at last the truth of this tragic history ? Shall I live until then ? Sometimes I doubt it, I do so feel my whole being dissolving in terrible despair. And my poor, dear Lucie and my children! No; I will not abandon them. I will cling to my dear ones with all the energy of my being so long as 1 have a shadow of vitality. I must recover all my honour and all the honour of my children. 148
Five Years of My Life
Saturday y J^une 22, 11 P.M.
Impossible to sleep. I have been shut up since half-past six in the evening, my hut lighted only by the lantern of the guard- room. Besides, 1 cannot work at English all night, and the few Reviews which reach me are quickly read.
Then all night long there is a constant going and coming in the guard-room, a ceaseless noise of doors roughly opened and then bolted. First the guard is relieved every two hours ; besides this, the warder who makes the round comes to sign the book at the guard-room every hour. These constant movements, this rattling of locks, have come to be part of my nightmares.
When will the end come to so painful and undeserved a martyrdom ?
Tuesday, June 25, 1895.
Again the convicts have come to work on the island, and I am shut up in my hut. 149
Five Years of My Life
Friday f June 28, 1895.
Still shut in because the convicts are here.
By sheer force of will and straining my nerves, I succeed in studying English three or four hours a day ; but the rest of the time my thoughts are continually going back to the horrible tragedy. It often seems that my heart and brain must burst.
Saturday J June 29, 1895.
I have just seen the mail boat for France saihng by. How the thought of France thrills through my soul ! To think that my country, to which I had devoted all my strength and all my intelligence, can believe me to be so vile ! Ah ! my burden is some- times too heavy for human shoulders to bear.
Thursday y July 4, 1895.
I have not had strength enough to write for some days past ; I have been so agitated by receiving, at last, after long days of 150
Five Years of My Life
waiting, fairly recent letters from my wife and the entire family. The latest letters were dated the 25th of May. The authori- ties have at last notified my family that all letters must pass through the hands of the officials.
There is nothing new ; the guilty man has not been discovered. I suffer on account of my family's distress, as if it were all my own. I do not speak of my thousand and one daily miseries, which are like so many wounds to a lacerated heart.
But I will not give up ; I must communi- cate my own energy to my wife ; I will succeed in vindicating the honour of my name and my children's.
Here are a few extracts from the letters which came recently from my wife.
** Paris, " March 25, 1895.
" I hope this letter will find you in good
health For my part, I am waiting
151
Five Years of My Life
with the greatest impatience for news of your arrival. It cannot belong delayed, for it is three weeks since you sailed. What a Calvary you have endured, and what awful moments you still must pass before we discover the truth 1
Mathieu cannot make up his mind to leave me. I know how much you always loved him, and how you admire his noble character.
" Paris, "March 27, 1895.
"My heart is rent asunder when I think of your sufferings and of your grief, alone and in exile, having not one soul near that can uphold you and give you hope and courage. I long so much to be near you, to share your grief and to assuage it a little by my presence. I assure you my thoughts are much oftener in the lies de Salut than here ; I picture to myself that I am there with you, I try to look upon you in that forlorn island and to
imagine to myself your life
152
Five Years of My Life
" Paris, "April 6, 1895.
" I read this morning, not without emotion, the story of your arrival at the Isles du Salut ; according to the newspapers, the He du Diable has been allotted to you alone. But although the news of your arrival has reached France, I have so far received abso- lutely nothing from you. I cannot tell you what my sufferings are, thus separated com- pletely from the husband whom I so love, totally deprived of news, and not knowing how you are bearing up.
^^Your wonderful self-sacrifice, your heroic courage, and the energy of your soul give us strength to persevere in the task which is incumbent on us ; that we shall accomplish it successfully I feel certain. , , ,"
" Paris, "April 12, 1895.
" Still no news from you ; it is terrible. It will soon be two months since I last saw 153
Five Years of My Life
you, and there has been nothing, absolutely nothing. Not a line of your hand- writing, to bring me something of yourself. It is very hard ! . . .
" It is terrible to think of your misery ; my heart, my whole being, is tortured by the thought of it. . . •"
** Paris, "April 21, 1895.
"The 2ist April I This date reminds me of pleasant memories. Five years ago to- day we were happy ; four years and a half of a perfectly contented and peaceful existence had gone by and we had known only happi- ness. Then all at once the thunderbolt fell and shattered all our hopes. I often told you, did I not, that I had nothing to wish for, that I possessed all ? And now I can only ask one boon. It is a supplication, a constant prayer that I address to God, that this year may bring our happiness back to us, that our dearly prized honour, which has been taken away from us, may be restored, 154
Five Years of My Life
and that you may find once more, joy, happiness, and strength of heaUh. . . ."
" Paris,
^^ April 24, 1895.
" So far I have received nothing from you, and I am broken-hearted. Each morning 1 hope and wait. Each evening I lie down filled with the same disappointment. Ah I my poor heart, how it is tortured. . • ."
" Paris,
"April 25, 1895.
"... I have just passed the most terrible day of my life. A newspaper has announced that you were ill. The torments I endured after reading this are beyond all description. To feel that you were far away, ill and alone, not to have even the comfort of nursing you and of doing you good, it was atrocious ! My heart, my whole being, gave me acute pain. I, who had entreated you to live, who had but one hope, that of seeing you happy
Five Years of My Life
again and of contributing to your happiness — every gloomy idea passed through my head. Distracted as I was, I appealed to the Ministry of the Colonies. The news was false. . . . When will your first letter reach me ? I wait for it with childish im- patience. . . ."
" Paris,
"Mflj/5, 1895.
" The letter I am expecting from you with such great impatience ever since your arrival has not yet come. Ever since I have known that the French mail arrived a fortnight ago (the 23rd April), my heart beats each time the postman comes, and each time I meet with disappointment. It is the same thing as regards the permission I have asked for to join you ; the Minister of the Colonies has not yet answered my two successive appli- cations, which date from the month of February. What am I to do, what to think ?
"Your little Pierre every morning lisps an 156
Five Years of My Life
ardent prayer for your prompt return. The poor little fellow is accustomed to have everything in life smile on him ; he does not understand why his wishes are not heard ; he repeats his prayer twice, for fear that he has not said it well enough. , , ,"
" Paris, " May 9, 1895.
^' At last I have received a letter from you. I cannot tell you what joy I felt, and how my heart beat at seeing your dear hand- writing, and reading the^ first lines which have reached me from you since your arrival, two months ago. I share you suffer- ing and your anguish. . . ,
" Lucie."
continuation of my diary
Saturday, July 6, 1895.
Still, still this atrocious life of suspicion, of continual surveillance, of a thousand daily pin-pricks ! My blood boils with anger and 157
Five Years of My Life
indignation, and I am obliged, for my own sake, for the sake of my dignity, to conceal my feelings.
Sunday, July 7, 1895.
The convicts have finished their work at last. So yesterday and to-day I have washed my towels, cleaned my dishes with hot water, and mended my linen, which was in a pitiable state.
Wednesday J July 10, 1895.
Every kind of vexation is again inflicted on me. I am no longer allowed to walk around my hut ; I cannot sit down behind it, in front of the sea — the only place where it was a little cool and where there was shade. Finally, I am put on convict's diet, that is to say, I am deprived of coffee and sugar ; a ration of bread of inferior quality is given me every day, and twice a week half a pound of meat ; the other days, pre- served beef or tinned bacon. Possibly this new regimen will also bring with it the 158
Five Years of My Life
suppression of the canned provisions I received from Cayenne.
I shall no longer leave my hut ; I shall live on bread and water ; let this state of things last as long as it may.
Friday f June 12, 1895.
It seems that it is not the convicts' rations which are given me, but special rations for myself. Nor does this new arrangement entail the suppression of the tinned pro- visions which I receive from Cayenne.
But all this amounts to little.
It is my nerves, my brain, my heart that suffer I I am debarred from going to sit in the only place where there was a little shade in the day, where the sea-breeze fanned my face, and seemed to echo the vibrations of my soul.
Same day ; evening.
I have just received my tinned provisions from Cayenne. But what does the food of the body matter ? the martyrdom they make 159
Five Years of My Life
me endure is so fearful. It is their duty to guard me, to prevent my escaping — if so be that I have ever shown the intention, for the only thing I seek and wish is the restoration of my honour — but I am followed every- where ; all I do is closely watched and a subject of suspicion. When I walk too fast, they say I am tiring out the guard, who must accompany me ; and when I answer that I will no longer leave my hut, they threaten to punish me ! But the day of light will end by coming I
Sunday, July 14, 1895.*
I have gazed at the tricolour flag floating everywhere on the island, the flag I have served with honour and loyalty. My grief is so great that my pen falls from my fingers; there are feelings that cannot be expressed in words.
* This is the F6te day of the Republic, the French national holiday.
160
I
Five Years of My Life
Tuesday, July i6, 1895.
The heat is becoming terrible. The part of the island reserved to me is completely bare. The cocoa-palms grow only in the other portion.
I pass the greater part of my days in my hut. And nothing to read ! Last month's Reviews have not reached me.
During this time, what is becoming of my wife and children ?
And this silence of the tomb ever around me I
Saturday, July 20, 1895,
The days pass by terribly monotonously, and I am ever anxiously waiting for a better morrow.
My sole occupation is to work a little at English.
This is the tomb, to which is added the pain of having a living heart.
Torrents of rain in the afternoon, foUowecJ by a hot, stifling mist, I am very feverish. 161 L
Five Years of My Life
Sunday, July 21, 1895.
I had fever all last night, with a constant inclination to vomit. The guards seem to be as much depressed as myself by the climate.
Tuesday, July 23, 1895.
Again a bad night. Rheumatic, or rather nervous pains, constantly shifting about, sometimes between my ribs, and sometimes across my shoulders. But I shall struggle also against my body ; I wish to live and see the end.
Wednesday, July 24, 1895.
Spleen takes hold of me also. I never see a pleasant face ; I can never open my mouth to speak to any human being; night and day I must suppress heart and brain in an eternal silence.
Sunday, July 28, 1895.
The mail from France has just come. But my letters go first to Cayenne, and then i6s
Five Years of My Life
come back here, although they have already been read and countersigned in France.
Monday, July 29, 1895.
Always the same thing, alas ! Days and nights pass in struggling with myself, in trying to quench the boiling of my brain, in stifling my heart's impatience, in rising above all the wretchedness of my life.
Evening.
A heavy, stifling day, irritating to the nerves in the highest degree. My nerves are stretched like violin strings. It is the dry season, and may last until January. Let us hope that all will be over by that time.
Tuesday, July 30, 1895.
A warder has just left, worn out by the fevers of the place. This is the second man who has been forced to leave since I have been here. I am sorry he is gone, for he was an honest man, fulfilling strictly the 163
Five Years of My Life
duties confided to him, but loyally, with tact and moderation.
Wednesday, July 31, 1895.
All last night I dreamed of you, my dear Lucie, and of our children. I wait with feverish impatience for the mail that is coming from Cayenne. I hope it will bring me my letters. Can the news be good ? Are they at last on the track of the wretch who committed the infamous deed ?
Thursday f August 1 ; noon.
The mail coming from Cayenne arrived this morning at a quarter past seven.
Does it bring any letters, and what news ? Up to now I have received nothing.
Half-past four o'clock. Still nothing. Terrible hours of waiting.
Nine o'clock in the evening.
Nothing has come. What a bitter disap- pointment !
164
Five Years of My Life
Friday, August 2, 1895. Morning.
What a terrible night I have passed I And I must struggle on, always and ever. I have sometimes a mad desire to sob, sob aloud, my sorrow is so overwhelming ; but I must swallow my tears ; I should be ashamed of my weakness before the warders who guard me night and day.
Not even for an instant am I alone with my grief.
These shocks wear me out, and to-day I am broken in body and soul. But I am going to write to Lucie, hiding my condition from her, to tell her to have courage. Our children must enter life holding their heads high and proudly, whatever happens to me.
Seven o'clock ; evening
My letters had come ; they have only now brought them to me. No new developments as yet. But I shall have the necessary patience ; the machinations of which 1 am
165
Five Years of My Life
the victim must be traced to their source. It must be so.
I must bear my sufferings till then 1
Here are a few extracts from my wife's letters, which I received the 2nd August, in the evening.
** Paris, " June 6, 1895.
" I am waiting with the keenest anxiety for some kind letters from you, to reassure me about your health, of which I hope you are taking care. The mail steamer arrived on May 23 ; to-day is the 6th of June, and your letters have not yet reached me. Each time the postman comes gives me a new hope, doomed to disappointment. My thoughts are all for you, my life for you. , . /'
"Paris, «* June 7, 1895.
"While writing you, I have just been interrupted by the arrival of your dear letters. . . . From your energy 1 imbibe 166
Five Years of My Life
renewed strength. It is you who sustain me. . . . On the other hand, if I can hve thus separated from you and tortured by cruel suffering, it is because my faith is boundless and my confidence in the future absolute. But I suffer so much from being separated from you that I have made another appeal to go and share your exile. I shall at least have the happiness of living the same life as you, of being near you, and showing you how much I love you.
" I pass hours in reading and re-reading your dear letters ; they are my consolation while waiting for the happiness of meeting you again. . . •
" Lucie."
When I realised the rigours of my life at the lies du Salut, I had no illusion as to the answer which would be given to my wife's requests to be permitted to come and join me. I knew they would be steadfastly refused.
167
Five Years of My Life
CONTINUATION OF MY DIARY
Saturday f August 3, 1895.
I did not close my eyes all night. All these emotions exhaust me.
To see so many sorows accumulated so unjustly round one, and to be unable to do anything to mitigate them I
Sunday f August 4, 1895.
I have just passed two hours, from half- past five to half-past seven, in washing my clothes, towels, and dishes. The work fatigues me greatly, but it does me good all the same. Ah ! I struggle as much as I can against the climate and against my tortures. For, before giving up, I must know that my honour has been restored.
But how long the days and nights are I I have received no Reviews for two months; I have nothing to read. 168
Five Years of My Life
I never open my mouth ; I am more silent than a Trappist.*
I sent to Cayenne to ask for a box of carpenter's tools, that I might occupy myself a little in manual labour. This has been refused me. Why ? Another riddle which I will not try to solve. For nine months I find myself face to face with so many enigmas which upset my reason, that I prefer to rest my weary brain and live unconsciously.
Monday f August 5, 1895.
The heat is becoming terrific, and I feel utterly crushed and exhausted by these nine months of frightful martyrdom that I have endured.
Saturday J August 10, 1895.
I do not know how far I can go, my heart and brain make me suffer so much, and this lamentable tragedy disturbs my reason so
* The Trappists are an order of monks who have taken a vow of strict silence. — J. M. i6g
Five Years of My Life
much. All my faith in human justice, honesty, and righteousness have so completely crumbled in face of the horrible facts I
If, then, I succumb, and these lines ever reach you, my dear Lucie, I beg you to believe that I have done all that was humanly possible to bear up so long. . . .
Be courageous and strong ; may oui children become your comfort ; may they inspire you with the strength to do your duty.
When a man's conscience assures him that he has at all times and in all places done his duty, he can bear himself with head erect and claim his birthright, which is honour.
Monday y September 2, 1895.
For a long time I have added nothing to my diary.
What is the use of it ? I struggle to live, no matter how atrocious my situation, how lacerated my heart, because I wish, in the 170
Five Years of My Life
midst of my cherished ones, to witness that day when our honour shall be restored to us.
Let us hope the time will soon come. I am so utterly weary.
Yesterday I had a fainting fit; my heart all at once seemed to cease to beat, and I felt myself unconsciously drifting away without pain. What it was exactly I am not able to explain.
I am waiting for my letters.
Friday f September 6, 1895.
Still I have no letters. Are there words to express the torture of such suspense ? Happy are the dead I
And to be compelled to live on, so long as the heart shall beat 1
Saturday y September 7, 1895.
My letters have this moment come. The guilty one has not yet been discovered. 171
Five Years of My Life
A few extracts from my wife's letters, received at this time :
••Paris, ••>/y 8, 1895.
" Your letters of May and of June 3 have reached me. They have done me immense good. I seem to hear you speak, your dear voice is ringing in my ears ; something of yourself had come to me at last, your noble and beautiful thoughts were reflected in my mind. To say that I did not weep when I received letters so impatiently waited for would be a falsehood ; but I saw with intense happiness that you had become master of yourself again ; your courage gives us all strength. Your example fortifies us in the task that we have set ourselves. . . .
" I was touched to the depths of my soul by the letter you wrote to our Pierre ; he was enchanted, and his child's face lighted up when I read your lines to him; he knows them by heart. When he speaks of you he is all aflame."
172
Five Years of My Life
" Paris,
**July lo, 1895.
" I come again to urge courage and patience to you; with one unflagging purpose we shall overcome all difficulties and soon grasp the key of the lamentable mystery of which we are the unhappy victims. It is my aim, my sole desire and fixed idea, the idea of Mathieu, of all of us, to give you the supreme happiness of beholding your inno- cence blazoned forth to the world in the light of day. I am resolved to succeed in unmasking those who have been guilty of so unexampled and monstrous an iniquity. If we were not ourselves the victims of this horrible crime, I would not admit that there could exist men so base, cow^ardly, and per- verse as to snatch from a family its pride in its stainless name, and to allow an officer without reproach to be condemned without their consciences dragging from them at the final moment a cry of confession.
" Lucie." 173
Five Years of My Life
CONTINUATION OF MY DIARY
September 22, 1895.
I had palpitation of the heart all last night. Consequently I am very tired this morning.
Truly the mind is in a sea of perplexity in face of such deeds.
Condemned on the sole evidence of hand- writing, it will soon be a year since I asked for justice ; and the justice I demand is not a dispute about the handwriting, but the search for and discovery of the wretch who wrote the infamous letter. The Government possesses every means for such a search. We are not in the presence of a common- place crime, of which we know neither the particulars nor the ramifications. The sources in this case are known, and thus the truth can be discovered whenever they choose to search for it.
However, the means matters nothing to me. What my mind and reason stand 174
Five Years of My Life
bewildered before is that they have not as yet succeeded in clearing up this horrible tragedy.
Ah ! the justice which I ask I must have, for my children and my family ; and no matter how horrible my sufferings may be, I shall demand it with my last breath.
But what a life for a man who esteemed no one's integrity to be above his own !
Death certainly would have been a blessing and I have not even the right to think of it I
September 27, 1895.
Such a martyrdom ends by going beyond the bounds of human strength. It renews each day the poignancy of the agony. It / compels an innocent man to go down living j into the tomb.
Ah 1 I leave their own consciences to judge the men who have condemned me on the sole evidence of a suspected hand- writing, without any tangible proofs, without 175
Five Years of My Life
witnesses, without a motive to make so in- famous an act conceivable.
If even, after my condemnation, as they promised me in the name of the Minister of War, they had resolutely and actively followed up the steps taken to unmask the guilty one I
And then, there is a way, through diplo- matic channels !
A government possesses all the machinery necessary to penetrate such a mystery ; and to do so is its strict and positive duty.
Oh, humanity with its passions and hatreds, with its moral ugliness !
Oh, men with their own selfish interests alone to guide them I To such, all the rest matters but little !
Justice ? it is a good thing when you have the time, when it does not bother you nor injure others !
Sometimes I am so disheartened, so worn out, that I long to stretch myself out, let myself go, and thus passively finish with life. I cannot do anything active to that end ; for I have not, I shall never have, that right, 176
Five Years of My Life
My misery is becoming unbearable.
There must be an end to all this. My wife must make her voice heard — the voice of the innocent ones crying out for justice.
If I had only my own life to struggle for I should certainly not struggle any longer ; but it is for honour that I live, and I shall struggle inch by inch to the end.
Bodily pains are nothing, the heart-ache is the one terrible thing.
September 29, 1895.
I had violent palpitations of the heart this morning. I was suffocating. The machine struggles ; how long has it still to run ?
Last night also I had a fearful nightmare, in which I called out to you for help, my poor, dear Lucie.
Ah ! if there were only myself, my disgust for men and things is so deep that I should look forward only to the great rest, to eternal repose.
177 II
Five Years of My Life
October i, 1895.
I no longer know how to write down my feelings ; the hours seem centuries to me.
October 5, 1895.
I have received letters from home. Still nothing done ! From all these letters there rises such a cry of suffering that my whole being is shaken to its depths. /"'"I have just written the following letter to the President of the Republic :
I
^ "Accused and then found guilty on the sole evidence of handwriting, of the most infamous crime which a soldier can commit, I have declared, and I declare once again, that I did not write the letter which was im- puted to me, and that I have never forfeited my honour.
** For a year I have been struggling alone, with a clear conscience, against the most terrible calamity which can befall a man.
" I do not speak of physical sufferings ; 178
Five Years of My Life
they are nothing ; the sorrows of the heart are everything.
" To suffer thus is dreadful in itself, but to feel those who are dear to me suffering with me is horrible. It is the agony of a whole family, expiating an abominable crime which I never committed.
" I do not beg for pardon, or favours, or compassion ; I only ask, I beg, that light full and complete may be shed upon this machination of which my family and I are the unhappy and miserable victims.
" If I have lived on, M. le President, and if I still continue to live, it is because the sacred duty which I have to fulfil towards my family fills my soul and governs it ; otherwise I should long since have suc- cumbed under a burden too heavy for human strength to bear.
" In the name of my honour, torn from me by an appalling error, in the name of my wife, in the name of my children — oh ! M. le President, at this last thought alone my father's heart, as a Frenchman and an 179
Five Years of My Life
honest man, cries out in its anguish ! — I ask justice from you ; and this justice, which I beg of you with all my soul, with all the strength of my heart, with hands joined in supreme prayer, is to probe the mystery of this tragic history, and thus to put an end to the martyrdom of a soldier and of a family to whom their honour is their all."
I am writing also to Lucie to act with energy and resolution, for this cruelty will end by prostrating us all.
They tell me that I think more of the sufferings of others than of my own. Ah, yes, assuredly; for if I were alone in the world, if I allowed myself to think only of myself, long since the tomb would have closed over me.
It is the one thought of Lucie and my children that gives me strength.
Ah, my darling children, to die is of little matter to me. But before I die, I wish to know that our name has been cleared from this stain.
180
Five Years of My Life
A few extracts from my wife's letters received by me in October :
" Paris, "August 4, 1895.
" I have not the patience to wait for your letters before writing you ; I feel the need of communing a little with you, to draw near to your noble soul, so tried, and to acquire from you new stores of strength and courage."
" Paris, "August 12, 1895.
" At last I have received your letters ; 1 devour them, read and re-read them with a never-satisfied greediness.
"When will my solicitude and affection efface from your mind the remembrance of the atrocious days of this direful year, which has left in our hearts so deep a wound ? I wish 1 possessed triple the power to hasten the time so anxiously awaited and to show to the whole world that we are pure, in spite of the mud of infamy they have thrown in our faces. . . ."
181
Five Years of My Life
" Paris, "August 19, 1895.
"When I endeavour to lessen a little the nervous anxiety of waiting and diminish the fever of my impatience, to get back my calm and renew my strength, I come to you.
^* What breaks my heart is to think that you are alone, far from all those who love you with all their hearts, and that you are a prey to this awful suspense, torturing your mind to clear up the mystery, while your poor heart and your upright conscience cannot realise the existence of such infamy.
** Lucie."
CONTINUATION OF MY DIARY
October 6, 1895. Awful heat. The hours are leaden.
October 14, 1895.
Violent wind. Impossible to go out. The
day is of terrible length.
182
Five Years of My Life
October 26, 1895.
I no longer know how I live. My brain is crushed. Ah ! to say that I do not suffer beyond all expression, that often I do not long for eternal rest, that this struggle between my deep disgust for men and things and my duty is not terrible — to say this would be a lie.
But whenever I feel that I am giving way, in my long nights or in my solitary days ; whenever my mind, enfeebled by so many shocks, prompts me to ask how, after a life of toil and honour, it is possible that I should have come to such a pass as this ; when I feel tempted to shut my eyes that I may hear and think and suffer no more, then it is that I summon all my fortitude, exclaim- ing to myself : " You are not alone, you are a father, you must stand up for the good name of your wife and children." And I begin again with new strength, to fall back, alas 1 a little later, and then begin again.
This is my daily life. 183
Five Years of My Life
October 30, 1895.
Violent heart spasms.
The sultry atmosphere takes away all energy. This is the changeable weather preceding the rainy season, the worst period of the year here in Guiana. Will it finally overthrow me ?
Night from November 2-3, 1895.
The mail-boat is in from Cayenne, but there are no letters.
It is impossible to express the keen dis- appointment one experiences when, after anxiously waiting during a long month for news of dear ones, nothing comes.
But so many sorrows have entered into my soul for more than a year that I can no longer reckon each fresh wound of the heart.
Yet this agitation, with which I should be
familiar, since it is renewed so often, has so
upset me that, although I rose this morning
at half -past five and have walked for at least
184
Five Years of My Life
six hours to master my nerves, it is impossible for me to sleep.
How much longer will this torment endure ?
November ^f iSg^.
Terrific heat ; over 45° (113° Fahrenheit).
Nothing is so depressing, nothing so exhausts the energy of heart and mind as these long agonising silences, never hearing human speech, seeing no friendly face, nor even one that shows sympathy.
November 7, 1895.
What has become of the letters which have been sent me ? Where has the mail stopped ? Has it been detained in Paris or at Cayenne ? These are the disquieting questions which I ask myself every hour of the day.
I constantly wonder if I am awake or if I dream, so incredible, unimaginable, is every- thing which has befallen me during the year.
185
Five Years of My Life
To have left my native land, Alsace ; to have given up an independent situation among my own people ; to have served my country with my whole soul, only to find myself one fine day accused and then condemned for a crime as contemptible as it is hateful, on the evidence of the hand- writing of a doubtful scrap of paper — is this not enough to demoralise a man for ever ?
But I must still struggle against Fate, for the sake of my dear Lucie and my children.
November g, iSg^,
This is a terribly long day. The first rain having commenced, I am obliged to shut myself in my hut. Nothing to read. The books announced in the letter of August have not yet reached me.
November 15, 1895.
I have at last received my letters. The guilty one is not yet discovered.
I shall hold out to the end of my strength, 186
Five Years of My Life
which is decHning daily : it is a ceaseless struggle to be able to withstand complete isolation, this perpetual silence, in a climate which destroys all energy, and having nothing to do and nothing to read, ever alone with my sad thoughts.
A few extracts from my wife's letters, which I received on November 15, 1895 :
♦* Paris, *' September 5, 1895.
"What long hours and weary days w^e have passed since the hour when our frightful misfortune struck us down at a blow 1 Let us hope that we have at last climbed up the steepest part of our Calvary ; that we have passed through the bitterest of our anguish. It is in our conscience alone that we have found the strength to endure the agony of our martyrdom. God, who has so sorely tried us, will give us the strength to fulfil our duty to the end. ... I understand your heartache and share it ; like you, there 187
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are moments when I lose all patience, finding the time so long and the hours of waiting too cruel. But then I think of you, of the noble example of courage which you show me, and I draw strength from your love. . . ."
" Paris, " September 25, 1895.
"This is the last letter I write you by this mail. I ardently hope that it may find you in good health and still strong and coura- geous. I cannot come to join you ; I have not yet obtained permission. For me the waiting is cruel, and it is one more bitter disappointment to add to so many
others. . . •
"Lucie."
At the foot of this letter were the following lines from my brother Mathieu : —
" I have received your kind letter, my dear brother, and it is a great consolation and a great comfort to me to know you are so strong and courageous. It is not ' hope '
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that I say to you, but ' have faith, have con- fidence ' ; it is impossible that the innocent should suffer for the guilty.
" There is no day that I am not with you in mind and in heart.
"Mathieu."
CONTINUATION OF MY DIARY
November 30, 1895.
I will not speak of my daily petty annoy- ances, for I despise them. It only needs for me to ask the chief warder for any insignificant thing of common necessity to have my request abruptly and instantly refused. Accordingly, I never repeat a request, pre- ferring to go without everything rather than humiliate myself.
But my reason will end by giving way under this inconceivable treatment.
December 3, 1895.
I have not yet received the mail of the month of October. This is a gloomy day, 189
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with ceaseless rain. My head is bursting, my heart is broken.
The air is thick and heavy, the sky black as ink. A genuine day of death and burial.
How often there recurs to my mind that exclamation of Schopenhauer, at the spectacle of human iniquity :
" If God created the world, I would not be God."
The mail from Cayenne has come, it seems, but has not brought my letters. How many more sorrows ?
Nothing to read, no avenue of escape from my thoughts.
Neither books nor Reviews come to me any more.
I walk in the daytime until my strength is gone, to calm my brain and exhaust my nerves.
December^, 1895.
In truth, I ask myself, what sort of con- sciences have people nowadays ? To think there are men who call themselves honest, 190
Five Years of My Life
like the man Bertillon, who had dared to ' swear without any restriction that, since the handwriting of that infamous letter slightly resembles mine, therefore only I could have penned it ! As to moral or other proofs, they were of little matter to such as he.
If there remains any remnant of heart in such men, I hope that on the day when the real culprit shall be unmasked they will lodge a pistol ball in their heads, to expiate the misery they have inflicted on an entire family.
December y, 1895.
How often I feel it beyond my power to support this life of constant suspicion and uninterrupted watching by day and by night, caged like a wild beast and treated like the vilest of criminals.
December 8, 1895.
I have a violent attack of neuralgia in the head, which increases every day and makes me suffer more and more. What a martyr- dom of every hour, every minute ! 191
Five Years of My Life
And always this silence of the tomb, with never the sound of a human voice.
A word of sympathy, a friendly look, may minister a soothing balm to cruel wounds and assuage for a time the acutest grief. Here there is nothing.
December g, 1897.
Never any letters. They have probably been detained at Cayenne, where they lie about for a fortnight. The mail-boat coming from France passed here before my eyes, on November 29, and the letters must have been at Cayenne ever since.
The same day ; 6 o'clock evening.
The second post received from Cayenne since the arrival of the last mail from France came in to-day at one o'clock. Does it this time bring me my letters ? and what is the news ?
December 11, 6 o'clock evening.
No letters I My heart is furrowed and torn !
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Five Years of My Life
December 12, 1895 ; morning.
My letters really did not arrive. Where have they stopped ? I have requested them to telegraph to Cayenne and find out.
Same day; evening.
My letters were stopped in France ! My heart makes me suffer as if they were tearing it apart with a dagger.
Oh, the ceaseless moaning of the sea ! What an echo to my sorrowing soul !
Such wild, fierce anger sometimes fills my heart against all human iniquity, that I could wish to tear my flesh, so as to forget, in physical pain, this horrible mental torture.
December 13, 1895.
They will certainly end by killing me through repeated sufferings, or by forcing me to commit suicide to escape from insanity. The opprobrium of my death will be on the Commandant du Paty, Bertillon, and all those who have had a share in this iniquity. 193 K
Five Years of My Life
Each night I dream of my wife and children. But what fearful awakenings I When I open my eyes and find myself in this wretched hut, I have a moment of such anguish that I could close my eyes for ever, never to see or think again.
Evening,
I have violent heart-spasms, with a frequent feeling of suffocation.
December 14, 1895.
I ask for the bath which I have been authorised to take by order of the doctor. No, is the answer the chief warder sends. A few minutes later he goes and takes one him- self. I do not know why I should abase myself to ask anything whatever of him. Until now I have repeated none of my requests ; and from now on I shall make no new ones.
December 16, 1895.
From ten o'clock to three, the hours are terrible, and I have nothing to distract my miserable thoughts.
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Five Years of My Life
December i8, 1895.
Dear little Pierre ! dear little Jeanne ! dear Lucie — how well I see you in my mind's
FACSIMILE OF A QUOTATION FROM HAMLET WRITTEN BY CAPTAIN DREYFUS IN HIS DIARY
eye ! How the remembrance of you all nerves me to submit to every ill !
December 20, 1895.
No affront is spared me. When I receive my linen, which is washed at the lie Royale, they unfold it, search through it in every possible way, and then toss it to me as to some vile creature. Every time I look upon the ocean there comes back to me the remembrance of the sweet and happy 195
Five Years of My Life
moments I have passed upon its shores, with my wife and children. I see myself taking my little Pierre along the beach, where he plays and gambols, while I dream of a happy future for him.
Then my present situation comes back to me, the disgrace cast upon my name and upon that of my children ; my eyes grow dim, the blood rushes to my head, my heart throbs as if it were about to break; indigna- tion fills my whole being. The light must dispel this darkness, the truth must be dis- covered, no matter what our sufferings may bel
December 22, 1895.
Still no news from my dear ones! The silence of the grave ! What a fearful night I have just passed ! The goings and comings of the warders, the lights that pass and repass add to my nightmares.
December 25, 1895.
Alas ! always the same thing. No letters. The English mail passed two days ago. 196
Five Years of My Life
My letters cannot have arrived, for otherwise I think they would have sent them to me. What to think ! what to believe 1
The rain falls all the time.
During a lighter spell, I went out to stretch myself a little. A few rain-drops only were falling. The chief-warder came up and said to the guard accompanying me : '*You must not stay out when it rains." Whence could emanate such instructions? But I disdained to reply, ignoring all these petty meannesses.
Nighty December 26-27, ^^5*
Impossible to sleep.
In what nightmare have I lived for nearly fifteen months, and when will it cease ?
December 28, 1895.
Intense weariness ! My brain is crushed. What is happening? Why have the letters of the month of October not reached me? 197
Five Years of My Life
Oh, my Lucie, if you read these hnes, if I succumb to this anguish, you will be able to imagine all I have suffered I
In the frequent moments when my disgust for all around me makes my senses reel, three names, which I murmur low, reawaken my energy and ever give me new strength — Lucie, Pierre, Jeanne !
Same day ; 1 1 o'clock morning,
I have just seen the mail-boat from France passing. But alas ! my letters go on first to Cayenne. At any rate, I hope the first post from Cayenne will bring them to me, that I shall at last have news of home, that I shall know if the riddle of this monstrous affair has been solved, and if I may begin to see an end to this torture.
Sunday y December 29, 1895.
What happy days I used to pass on Sundays in the midst of my family, playing with my children !
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Five Years of My Life
My little Pierre is now nearly five years old. He is almost a big boy. I used to wait with impatience for the time to come when I could take him with me and talk with him ; instruct his young mind, and instil within him the love of beauty and truth ; and thus develop in him so lofty a soul that the seamy side of life could not defile it. Where are those dreams now — and that eternal '^Why?"
December 30, 1895.
My blood burns and fever devours me. When will all this end ?
Same day ; evening.
My nerves trouble me so that I am afraid to lie down. This unbroken silence, with no news of my dear ones for three months, with nothing to read, crushes and overwhelms me.
I must rally all my strength to resist always and yet again ; I must murmur low those 199
Five Years of My Life
three words which are my tahsman : Lucie, Pierre, Jeanne !
December 31, 1895.
What a frightful night ! Strange dreams, absurd nightmares, followed by copious per- spiration.
To-day, at dawn, I saw the arrival of the boat from Cayenne. Ever since, I have been in a strange state of anxiety, asking myself each moment if at last I am to have news from home.
And my heart beats wildly in the anguish of this suspense.
January i, 1896.
At last, yesterday evening, I received my letters of October and November. Still no progress ; the truth is not yet discovered.
But, also, what grief have I caused Lucie by my last letters ; how I torture her by my impatience; and yet hers is as great as my own.
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Five Years of My Life
A few extracts from my wife's letters re- ceived by me on January i, 1896 :
" Paris, «• October 10, 1895.
" This mail, my dear husband, has brought only a single letter from you — that which you wrote me on August 5 has not reached me. The dear lines written by your hand, the only sign I have of your existence, still comfort me ; your courage revives my own ; your energy gives me strength to con- tinue the struggle. . . ."
"Paris, "October 15, 1895.
"This date recalls such painful remem- brances to me that I cannot help turning to you for a moment. It makes me feel better, and seems to be doing you some good also. I no longer wish to speak of the calamitous days we have endured ; each of us suffering far away from the other ; it is best to think of all this no more ; the wound is yet bleed- ing, and it is useless to make it deeper still.
20I
Five Years of My Life
But I want to tell you how full of confidence and hope we are, and that our strenuous determination will triumph over all obstacles. We shall certainly detect and expose the wretched men who have committed this crime. . • •"
** Paris, •* October 25, 1895.
" The months are long when one suffers so cruelly ; they all resemble each other in their monotony and sadness. Here is another mail ; like those that went before, it will bring you words of hope and the echo of our boundless affection. . . .
" It is tedious and mournful to wait ; but count on us. Your patience will not be in vain/'
« Paris, ^^ November 10, 1895.
'* I read and re-read the sole letter from
you that has reached me by the last mail. I
received it only this morning. It is very
brief, but I am only too happy to have this
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Five Years of My Life
door, inadequate echo of your beloved self. I doubt not that you often try to chat with me, painful as it may be to you to write, being able to say nothing, and refraining from pour- ing out your heart for fear of doing me harm. "Why do they not give me the letters, which are my only consolation ? Why do they render yet more painful the situation of two beings already so miserable ? Our little Pierre and Jeanne are always good and well-behaved children, kind-hearted, and amiable towards every one. They are both looking well and growing daily taller and stronger. What pleasure it will be for you, when at last we shall have made the truth known, to hold in your arms these dear little beings whom you loved so much, for whom you are suffering, and who, by their affection, will make your life happy and sweet."
" Paris, **