To Live Out Loud: A Novel

by Paulette Mahurin

  Zola’s attorney addressed the court with, “I am not much astonished, gentlemen, at the difficulties that Mr. Zola meets in this affair, and I expect that this incident, which is the first, will not be the last. We expected that the opposition would offer to you and impose upon us a restricted discussion. Such was the desire of the Minister of War, and it was his right. It will be ours, at a certain moment, to ask what could have been the underlying reasons for the exercise of this right under the circumstances in which the Minister of War has made use of it.” Labori relaxed his manner, and so did I when he continued to read Zola’s accusations concerning the Minister of War, among others, and that evidence would be presented as proof. “Therefore,” he said, “Mr. Attorney General, let us say no more of exceptions.” He then submitted a formal motion that the court authorize the introduction of evidence on all matters referred to in Zola’s public letter.

  The judge rendered an adverse decision on the motion, claiming it was not directly connected with the matter of the trial. Another blow was that the judge had a letter from the Keeper of Seals, saying that the Minister of War, General Billot, had not been authorized to respond to his summons. Several other key witnesses had similar letters or medical excuses.

  My pulse sped up as the proceedings continued in the competent hands of Labori, where most of the defense attention went. When it became known that du Paty de Clam wouldn’t be appearing, Labori proclaimed, “This is the first time that I have known witnesses to be judged according to the utility of their evidence. Mr. du Paty de Clam is not sick, nor is he detained, so far as I know, by the duties of his military office. He does not know upon what points he is to be examined, or what we shall ask him. It is his duty to appear in this case. We have to question him as well on matters of fact as on matters of morals pertaining exclusively to the Esterhazy case, and not at all to the Dreyfus case. Under these circumstances it is indispensable that he appear at this bar.” He further mentioned that if he needed to take shelter behind professional secrecy, then he could do that but, “Even then it is our right to make a motion before the court, challenging the law upon which no answer is acceptable by law. If it be the case and closed doors are necessary, then we shall have them.”

  The rest of the day proceeded in a similar manner, with the defense calling witnesses and the judge proclaiming that, for each witness, he had a letter providing an “acceptable excuse” not to appear. Labori asked that everything be clearly stated in the record (evidence, whether the witnesses were ordered not to appear or if they simply chose to be excused), so that when his motions were decided on the next day, he might ask for a postponement of the trial. The message was clear: play games with him, he’d play right back. But the game he was playing involved my dear friend’s life.

  I have but one passion: to enlighten those who have been kept in the dark, in the name of humanity, which has suffered so much and is entitled to happiness.

  Émile Zola

  Chapter Fourteen

  The second day of the trial began with a letter from Esterhazy stating that because of the acquittal rendered in his favor, he did not feel justified in responding to Mr. Zola’s summons. To this Albert Clemenceau stood and demanded he appear to be questioned on behalf of the newspaper L’Aurore.

  Frustrated and tired of the nonsense, Labori made his move and called Mrs. Dreyfus to the stand. Wearing black from neck to feet and appearing pale, Lucie rose and slowly walked to the front of the courtroom. As she was being sworn in, a man next to me whispered, “Dirty Jew.” My gut knotted.

  She sat in the witness chair and waited while the judge and Labori argued back and forth about the relevancy of the first question to her concerning what she thought of Zola’s good faith. “What has that to do with this case?” the judge demanded to know. It was clear he was about to refuse to let her answer it.

  Labori argued that it spoke to Zola’s good faith in coming forth. Zola then interjected, “I ask to be allowed here the liberty that is accorded thieves and murderers. They can defend themselves, summon witnesses and ask them questions, but every day I am insulted in the street. They break my carriage windows, they roll me in the mud, and an unclean press treats me as a bandit. I have the right to prove my good faith, my probity, my honor.”

  The judge glared at Zola who was sitting at the defendant’s table. Turning to Labori, he responded, “I remind you of the terms of the decree rendered yesterday by the court, the provisions of Article 11 of the law of 1881, and the terms of your summon. Let us not depart therefrom. Any question outside of these limits will not be put by me. Let that be well understood. It is useless to recur to the matter.”

  The Press Law of 1881, referenced by the judge, had a limitation in Article 11, which imposes legal obligations on publishers and criminalizes certain specific behaviors, particularly concerning defamation. By citing this law, the judge had stated the legal ground for narrowing the boundaries of what he would allow into the record.

  Not to be deterred, Zola repeated, “I ask to be treated here as well as thieves and murderers. All accused persons are entitled to prove their probity, their good faith, and their honor.”

  His attorney followed promptly with, “Will you permit me to point out the bearing of my questions? Mr. Zola has made two assertions. He has asserted that the Council of War of 1894 convicted, in the person of ex-Captain Dreyfus, an innocent man by illegal methods. And that the second council acquitted a guilty man.”

  Lucie Dreyfus, on the verge of tears, sat quietly, waiting to see if she would be allowed to answer questions. One fortuitous mention of Alfred Dreyfus and the door would be open. As the tension rose, the judge continued to shut down motions for questions to Mrs. Dreyfus.

  He finally put his foot down when asked if he would accept any questions involving good faith, to which he said, “Anything concerning the Dreyfus case, no.” Stunning me, this non sequitur highlighted the bias of the judge that had set the mood in the court. Snickers and jeers came from those in favor of the judge’s prejudice while the few liberals shook their heads in disgust.

  Lucie Dreyfus gasped. A pound of the gavel to quiet the commotion sounded a shock wave through the poor woman, and she appeared to struggle to regain her composure. Labori glanced over to her as he asked the judge, “Will you permit me, in our common interest, to ask you, then, what practical means you see by which we may ascertain the truth?”

  With pursed lips, his response came back, “That does not concern me.”

  Unbelievable! I dug my foot in the floor to subdue my frustration that this trial was getting nowhere. There seemed no hope for justice in France for Dreyfus, for Zola, or any unfairly treated person. I worried how Zola was holding up under this charade of judiciary integrity.

  Labori, containing his furious reaction, asked the court’s permission to put questions before Mrs. Dreyfus. “I would like to ask her,” he said, “to describe Major du Paty de Clam’s visit to her house. Did he utter the grossest insults against her husband? Did he forbid her to speak of the arrest of her husband to anyone, including family? What does she think of Mr. Zola’s good faith? Does she consider the measure taken against her husband to be illegal?” There were more, but when those in the courtroom responded to the reading of these questions with hostility, Labori shouted, “If you think you can prevent me from doing my duty, you are mistaken. I am embarrassed only when I am applauded. Let them howl! It is all one to me.”

  “Silence!” said the judge with another pound of the gavel. “Denied.”

  Mrs. Dreyfus did not speak before Zola was called forth to be questioned. Crestfallen, yet holding her head high, she walked back to her seat in the audience. I wanted to weep for her.

  Zola walked past the two court judges sitting before Judge Delegorgue, his attention towards the jury. Movement in chairs, coughs, and shuffling papers stilled as he stepped into the witness box. Continuing to look at the jurors, he said, “Gentlemen of the jury, to you will I address myself. I am not an orator,
I am a writer, but unfortunately…”

  Impatiently Delegorgue interrupted him with, “You should address the court!”

  Zola gripped his hands together to stop their shaking, and slowed his response as he turned to the judge and apologized. He went on to say he was not accustomed to public speaking, and was likely to use words without a clear legal meaning that caused his being misunderstood. He expressed his hope that a sentence or two would not be taken out of context of all he said, referring to the accusations in J’Accuse.

  Smiling, I thought to myself that Zola’s humility to quell the judge’s anger was a smart move on his part. It worked mildly as the judge’s tone softened, but Zola was not allowed to answer questions posed to him from any of the defense attorneys. When he left the stand I looked at the ceiling and prayed that the heavens beyond would open and cast a better light on the situation. When Scheurer-Kestner took the stand and was asked about Esterhazy being the guilty culprit, my emotions once again lifted, until the judge proclaimed, “Mr. Scheurer-Kestner, you are to tell us of Major Esterhazy, but I beg you not to say anything of the Dreyfus case, concerning which we will not hear a word.”

  The political jockeying and maneuvering continued with the defense attorneys doing their best; however, their efforts were in vain as the judge continued to reject their motions and questions. That is how the rest of the day went, leaving those of us on Dreyfus’s side feeling deflated and hopeless. Meeting later with Zola, Labori told him not to worry about what seemed like a closed door.

  “You see a way to open it?”

  “Yes,” he smiled.

  Straight-faced, Zola queried, “Dare I ask?”

  “Émile, more of the same. Sooner or later, hopefully sooner, legal shades of grey will favor us. And Dreyfus.”

  “Yes, Dreyfus. That’s the whole point,” Zola said, patting Labori on the back.

  As we walked away from the courthouse surrounded by guards, I asked Zola, “Do you regret any of this?”

  “Yes and no,” he answered. “I won’t lie about my nervous ambivalence, but I will never regret doing right by another human being.”

  I shuddered to think that Zola’s noble efforts might not be worth the eventual price he will have to pay in the end. A price we may all incur for having assisted him to defend a traitor. If the facts are never brought to light about Alfred Dreyfus’s injustice will we all look like guilty accomplices? If so then what?

  Dwell on this, because this is the germ of it all, whence the true crime would emerge, that horrifying miscarriage of justice that has blighted France

  Émile Zola

  Chapter Fifteen

  When the trial resumed the next day, Scheurer-Kestner took the stand again and the proceedings started with a ray of hope. Tired from a fitful night’s sleep, an overly active mind, and too much imbibing, it was hard for me to focus, but I snapped to attention when I heard mention of letters. They included information that Scheurer-Kestner had from Lt. Colonel Picquart that stated the authorship of the bordereau had been mistakenly attributed to Alfred Dreyfus.

  I bit my lower lip and prayed.

  Scheurer-Kestner went on to say that Picquart made haste to inform his seniors, including General Gonse, showing them the bordereau and Major Esterhazy’s handwriting. My headache lifted when he said, “I was convinced by reading the data that Piquart was correctly paving the way for a revision of the Dreyfus trial.”

  The muffled din in the courtroom grew louder, and the judge pounded the gavel. “Quiet in the courtroom! Another outburst and I will have it cleared.” Turning back to the witness seat, he told Scheurer-Kestner to continue.

  “It seems to me indispensable, in order to enlighten the jurors, that I should read this correspondence to them.”

  “No, that is not possible,” said the judge.

  The Attorney General jumped on the judge’s comment with a loud, “General Gonse and Lieutenant-Colonel Picquart have been summoned. They will testify concerning the letters, if they see fit.”

  Everyone with any intelligence who’d been following the trial knew this was a delaying tactic, and that if and when they did make it to the witness stand, nothing concerning Dreyfus’s innocence would be introduced. Damnation!

  Labori countered with a plea that Scheurer-Kestner be allowed to read the letters. The shut door creaked open, millimeter by millimeter, with articles of the law cited by the defense attorneys to introduce them. The judge countered every plea, until finally a spark ignited and out came, “Offer your motion. But after all, if Scheurer-Kestner, instead of reading them, wishes to say what they contain, he may do so.”

  Scheurer-Kestner then repeated the substance of the letters.

  My lungs cleared and I tried to keep the smile from my face. I wanted to stand and scream, finally! More back and forth continued and I could feel Zola’s relief when Scheurer-Kestner said that he was an old friend of General Billot, the Minister of War. Filled with emotion, Scheurer-Kestner went on to say, “I addressed General Billot with the utmost familiarity, and almost wept in his arms as I begged him, in the name of France, to take the matter up, concerning the false claims against Dreyfus.”

  I caught sight of Mathieu Dreyfus sitting alone, and wondered where Lucie Dreyfus was. We listened to Scheurer-Kestner. “The conversation that I had with General Billot was a long one. Yes, I pleaded with him to give his best attention to this matter, which otherwise was likely to become extremely serious. ‘It is incumbent upon you,’ I said to him, ‘to take the first steps, make a personal investigation; do not trust the matter to anyone. There are bundles of documents in certain offices. Send for them. Use no intermediary. If you will promise to do this, I pledge myself to maintain silence until I know the result.’ As I left, General Billot asked me to say nothing to anyone.”

  The jurors paid close attention to Scheurer-Kestner’s testimony and I think I noticed one smack his lips in dislike when he heard him say, “I agreed, but on one condition: two hours, I said, are all that is necessary for this investigation. I give you a fortnight, and during that fortnight I will not take a step.” Scheurer-Kestner looked distraught as he continued. “Now, during that fortnight I was dragged in the mud, pronounced a dishonest man, treated as a wretch, covered with insults, and called a German and a Prussian.”

  Although no definitive data was submitted as to the bundles of letters that Scheurer-Kestner had asked General Billot to investigate, the crack in the door had widened, and I slept better that night.

  § § § §

  The fourth day of the trial started out with a surprise. The judge stated that in refusing to hear Mrs. Dreyfus concerning Mr. Zola’s good faith, he assumed questions would be directed to the Dreyfus case. Therefore, he said, “The court desires the defense to specify whether the questions will be put in regard to the Dreyfus case or the Esterhazy case.”

  Labori gave Zola a look and from behind the table I could see him give Zola a gentle pat on the back, signifying this was good news. Labori responded, “I do not understand. Since Mr. Zola is accused of a crime, we seek to show that his action was done in good faith and not out of criminal intent.” He continued to address the judge. “We maintain that Zola’s actions were bona fide, and in asking the witness what she thinks, we cannot separate the interconnection between the Dreyfus case and the Esterhazy case.”

  The judge went on to say that he would question Mrs. Dreyfus on the matter of the Esterhazy case. Since she was not present in the court that day, the proceedings continued with the calling of other witnesses. The first witness the next day was supposed to be Mrs. Dreyfus. But once again, Mathieu was alone.

  Labori stood, looked around the room, and waited for the whispering to stop before he told the judge, “Mrs. Dreyfus will not be attending. I excused her in view of a letter that I will read.” Without pause, Lucie Dreyfus spoke that day through Labori’s impassioned voice:

  “Dear Master: I answered to the call of my name at Tuesday’s hearing, in spite of my great
agitation. I made the effort because I hoped to express to the court and the jury my deep gratitude to, and my admiration for, Mr. Zola, who, obeying the voice of his conscience, has sacrificed himself for justice and truth with a sublime disdain of the insults and threats, which he has drawn upon himself. I hoped also to declare my absolute faith in my husband’s innocence—an innocence which, I am convinced, will be established before long—and also my sincere gratitude to you, dear master, who display so much courage and talent to secure the triumph of the truth. The anguish of these current proceedings, added to all that I have suffered for three years, has put me in a condition in which I could not continue to endure. Permit me, then, to absent myself from the court and accept, I beg of you, the expression of my most distinguished sentiments. L. Dreyfus. February 10, 1898.”

  A man sitting two seats over from me smirked and under his breath declared, “Of course she wouldn’t come to defend her Jew-traitor husband.” I wanted to hit him.

  The winds were shifting. I could feel it despite the acrimony of many people present. Still, I couldn’t help but worry. Would this change in the air be enough to save my friend, and more importantly, his faith in all that is good in this life?

  Ah, that first trial! What a nightmare it is for all who know it in its true details.

  Émile Zola

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miserably cold and stormy weather prevailed on the sixth day of the trial. Zola moved on ahead to talk with Labori as I lingered in the hallway, trying to dry off before going in and taking a seat. Toned-down courtroom whispers were audible from two feet away. “That miserable man deserves what he got,” someone said, referring to an earlier mention of Dreyfus. “Bringing the whole country to a standstill, Zola has a lot of nerve. And to throw away his reputation and acclaim to defend a traitor, he deserves to join him.”