prevent the irreparable, courageously stakes all that he has, person,
position, fame, affections, and friendships. . . . And this he does for
no personal object whatsoever, but in the sole cause of truth and
justice, ever repeating the cry common to both Goethe and himself:
"Light, more light!"

* There is not the slightest doubt that M. Zola incurred the
greatest personal danger between January and April 1898.
M. Ranc, the old and tried Republican, who knows what danger
is, has lately pointed this out in forcible terms in the
Paris journal _Le Matin_.

'Ah! to all the true hearts that have followed and loved him through
years of mingled blame and praise, hard-earned victory and unmerited
reviling, he is at this hour dearer even than he was before; for he has
now put the seal upon his principles, and to the force of precept has
added that of the most courageous personal example.'

This then is what I wrote immediately after the publication of Zola's
letter 'J'accuse,' basing myself simply on my knowledge of the master's
character, of the passions let loose in France, and of a few matters
connected with the Dreyfus case, then kept secret but now public
property. And had I to write anything of the kind at the present time, I
should, I think, have but few words to alter beyond substituting the past
for the present or future tense. In one respect I was mistaken. I did not
imagine the truth to be quite so near at hand. Since January 1898,
however, nine-tenths of it have been revealed and the rest must now soon
follow. And I hold, as all hold who know the inner workings of l'Affaire
Dreyfus, that M. Zola's exile, like his letter to President Faure and his
repeated trials for libel, has in a large degree contributed to this