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496 pages, Hardcover
First published September 26, 2013
“There is no such thing as a secret—not really, not in the modern world, not with photography and telegraphy and railways and newspaper presses. The old days of an inner circle of like-minded souls communicating with parchment and quill pens are gone. Sooner or later most things will be revealed.”
I heard the whip crack twice. The driver shouted a command. The wagon accelerated free of the mob, turned left, and disappeared.
An instant later the order was given for the parade to march past. The stamp of boots seemed to shake the ground. Bugles were blown. Drums beat time. As the band struck up "Sambre-et-Meuse" it started to snow. I felt a great sense of release. I believe we all did. Spontaneously we turned to one another and shook hands. It was as if a healthy body had purged itself of something foul and pestilential, and now life could begin anew. (pp. 12-13)
Both papers have the degradation on their front pages--the Journal, indeed, has almost nothing else. Its report is illustrated by a series of crude sketches: of Dreyfus being marched into the parade ground, of the plump little official in his cape reading out the judgment, of the insignia being ripped from Dreyfus's uniform, and of Dreyfus himself looking like a white-haired old man at thirty-five. The headline is "The Expiation": We demanded for the traitor Dreyfus the supreme penalty. We continue to believe that the only appropriate punishment is death..." It is as if all the loathing and recrimination bottled up since the defeat of 1870 has found an outlet in a single individual. (pp. 21-22)
"You want my advice? Well here's a story. When my regiment was in Hanoi, there was a lot of thieving in the barracks. So one day my major and I, we laid a trap and we caught the thief red-handed. It turned out he was the son of the colonel--God knows why he needed to steal from the likes of us, but he did it. Now my major--he was a bit like you, a little bit of the idealistic type, shall we say--he wanted this man prosecuted. The top brass disagreed. Still, he went ahead and brought the case anyway, But at the court-martial it was my major that was broken." (p. 227)
I have seen what the chafing of leg irons can do to a prisoner's flesh: cut it to the bone. In the insect-infested heat of the tropics, the torment must be unendurable. (p. 229)
The Affair became politicized, then highly politicized, as it became clear that all sides on the contentious French public scene could use it to do their old business destroying each other's reputations.