He swears first that he had a conversation with Miner, in which he told Miner that he would work for him for one hundred and fifty dollars a month and expenses, with permission to put on some of his own service, I think, in Oregon and California, and that Mr. Miner accepted his terms, and employed him as the agent of Miner, Peck & Co. Recollect that, Miner, Peck & Co. Second, that Miner told him to report at Dorsey's house to get instructions. Miner at that time was staying at Dorsey's house. I do not know whether it was to get instructions from Dorsey or from the house, or from Miner. I take it, from Miner. No matter. Mr. Moore then swears that he reported to Dorsey and Dorsey asked him his opinion about the service. Moore had never been there and did not know one of the routes, but Dorsey was anxious for his opinion. How did he know any more about the service than Dorsey? There is no evidence that Moore knew the price. There is no evidence that he knew the amount the Government was to pay on a single route. He was a stranger. Then he had another conversation with Dorsey in which Dorsey told him that they had bid on the long routes with slow time, because that was the way to make money. Not satisfied with that, Mr. Dorsey showed him the subcontracts with the blanks and with the changes, and then he explained to him the descending scale, and he explained to him the percentage of expedition. He said Dorsey told him forty per cent, of the expedition. Boone swears it was sixty-five per cent. There is a little difference; not much. Moore swears that he himself was to have twenty-five per cent, of the stealings. Let us see how that is. Boone swears that the subcontractor was to have sixty-five per cent. Rerdell swears that Brady was to have thirty-three and one-third per cent. That leaves one and two-third per cent, for the contractor. Do you see? The subcontractor got sixty-five dollars out of one hundred dollars, and then Brady got thirty-three dollars and thirty-three and one-third cents. That makes ninety-eight dollars and thirty-three and one-third cents, leaving the contractor one dollar and sixty-six and two-third cents. That was all he got. Did you ever know of anybody on earth doing business at a smaller per cent, and paying for the trouble? Now, Mr. Moore comes in with his statement. He says the subcontractor got forty per cent, and then he himself got twenty-five per cent. That makes sixty-five. Then, according to Rerdell, Brady was to have thirty-three and one-third per cent. That makes ninety-eight and one-third. There is the most wonderful coincidence in this whole trial. Rerdell and Boone and Moore agree exactly that the contractor gave up ninety-eight and one-third per cent, to others and took one and two-thirds himself. Did you ever know as much humanity in a conspiracy as that? Did you ever know such a streak of benevolence to strike anybody? It reminds me of a case of disinterested benevolence that happened in Southern Illinois. A young man there went to a lawyer and said to him, "I want to get a divorce, I was married at a time when I was drunk, and when I sobered up I didn't like the marriage. I want a divorce." The lawyer asked, "What do you want of a divorce?" "Well," he said, "do you know the widow Thompson?" "Yes." "She has been a widow there for about forty years. Do you know her boy? He is the biggest thief in this county. He went over the Ohio River the other day and stole a set of harness and a mule." "What has that to do with this divorce case?" "Well," he said, "I want to get a divorce and I want to marry that widow." "What for?" "I want to get control of that boy and see if I can't break him from stealing. I have got some humanity in me." Here are S. W. Dorsey, his brother, his brother-in-law, Miner and Vaile starting a charity conspiracy, and out of every hundred dollars that they steal they offer ninety-eight dollars and thirty-three cents upon the altar of disinterested friendship. You are asked to believe that. You will not do it.
Mr. Moore also swears that he received some money by a check, but he does not know whether the check was payable to him or payable to Miner, and he got a power of attorney signed by Miner from John W. Dorsey and John M. Peck, and then he started, S. W. Dorsey assuring him in the meantime that he could tell the people out there that the service would be increased and expedited in a few days. Mr. Moore is a peculiar man. He says that that suited him exactly. He was willing to steal what little he could; he was willing to steal for one hundred and fifty dollars a month if he couldn't get any more, or he was willing to steal for a part of the stealing. If he could not get that he would take an ordinary salary. I should think he was a good man from what he says. You heard him. They were wonderfully anxious to prove by Moore that Dorsey was the head and front of this whole business. That was the object, and so he swore as to the instructions. He said he was instructed to get up petitions so that they could be torn off and the names pasted on other petitions. He swore he carried out those instructions. He swore that Major agreed to do it, and I think a man by the name of McBeau was going to do it. Yet, gentlemen, there never was such a petition gotten up. Major swore here that he never heard of it; that he never dreamed of it, and never agreed to it; that it was a lie; that it was never suggested to him. Moore went out West and came back as far as Denver, and at Denver met John R. Miner, and then came here and saw Dorsey. What did he do with Dorsey? He swears that he went to Stephen W. Dorsey and settled with him, and that Dorsey settled in a very generous and magnanimous way, and did not want to look at his account, and did not want to look at the book; had no anxiety or curiosity about the items. He just said, "How much is it?" It happened to be even dollars—two hundred and fifty dollars. When a man goes out West and has hotel bills and all that sort of thing, when he comes to render his expense account it is always even dollars. Moore said two hundred and fifty dollars. Dorsey gave it to him; never looked at the book at all. Moore swears that he made that settlement with Stephen W. Dorsey on the 11th day of July, 1878. Dorsey was then in the Senate.
Look at page 1417. You see that Moore had been smart; that is what people call smart. You know it is never smart to tell a lie. Very few men have the brains to tell a good lie. It is an awfully awkward thing to deal with after you? have told it. You see it will not fit anything else except another lie that you make, and you have to start a factory in a short time to make lies enough to support that poor little bantling that you left on the door-step of your honesty. A man that is going to tell a lie should be ingenious and he should have an excellent memory. That man swore that he settled with Dorsey to the 11th day of July, 1878; swore it for the purpose of convincing you that Dorsey employed him; that Dorsey gave him instructions; that Dorsey was the head and front of the conspiracy. I then handed him a little paper, and asked him, "Do you know anything about that? Did you ever sign that?" And here it is:
Not July 11. That is the day he got the money of Dorsey.
July 24, 1878.
Received of Miner, Peck & Co., one hundred and sixty-six dollars, balance of salary and expenses in full to July 11, 1878.
A. W. MOORE.
To when? To July 24? No, sir; he settled with Dorsey to July 11, 1878. The gentlemen had forgotten that he gave that. If he had only had a little more brains he would have avoided the two hundred and fifty dollars, that even amount, and he would have said, "Dorsey did look over my books, and we had a little dispute about some items, and we just jumped at two hundred and fifty dollars." But he swears that was the actual settlement, and then we bring in his receipt in writing, dated the 24th of July, 1878, saying that he received one hundred and sixty-six dollars that day, and that it was in full of his salary and expenses, not up to that date, but up to the nth of July, 1878. If his testimony is true, he stole that one hundred and sixty-six dollars. If his testimony is true, he settled with Dorsey in full for two hundred and fifty dollars, and then he was mean enough to go and get one hundred and sixty-six dollars more for the same time. No, gentlemen, he was all right enough about it then; he told the falsehood here.
Now, what does Dorsey swear? Dorsey swears that he received an order from Miner to give this man two hundred and fifty dollars. Miner swears that if Dorsey paid him anything it was on his, Miner's, request. That is a v perfectly natural proceeding for Mr. Miner to request Dorsey to pay this man two hundred and fifty dollars. The man came to Dorsey's house. Dorsey gave him two hundred and fifty dollars upon Miner's order. He was trusting John R. Miner for the money, and it was none of his business whether Miner owed it or not, and consequently he did not look at his book. Now, every fact is consistent with the truth of Mr. Dorsey's testimony; the fact is consistent with the truth of Miner's testimony; and the receipt of this man given to Miner on the 24th of July, 1878, demonstrates that he did not tell the truth, under oath, in this court before you.
That is the end of Mr. Moore; that is the end of him. You never need bother about him again as long as you live.
Why, they say, "Why didn't you impeach him?" He impeached himself. "Why didn't you call so-and-so?" Because we had that receipt; that is why. No need of killing a man that is dead. You need not give poison to a corpse. When a thing is buried, let it go. When a man commits suicide, you need not murder him. When he destroys his own testimony, let it alone; it will not hurt you.
I am not afraid of the testimony of Mr. Moore. If these gentlemen can galvanize it into the appearance of life, I should be very happy to see them do it. Everything that he swore upon this stand that in any way touched the defendants is shown not to be true.
Why should Dorsey have told him in 1878 to get up fraudulent petitions? Even Rerdell does not swear that in 1879 Dorsey instructed him to get up fraudulent petitions, and certainly he would go to the limit of the truth. After he made his story out of a piece of true cloth there would be very few scraps left. He would certainly go clear to the line. And yet, even he does not swear that when he went West to make contracts, to get up petitions, he was instructed by Mr. Dorsey to get up a fraudulent petition—not once. And yet Moore swears that in 1878, when Dorsey was in the Senate, he told him to get up these fraudulent petitions. It will not do.
Mr. Major swears that what he says about it is not true; Mr. McBean swears that what he says about it is not true; and then we have Moore's own receipt showing that it is not true.
On page 4757 Mr. Bliss says—Moore stands before you, therefore, so far as all this testimony is concerned, wholly and absolutely uncontradicted.
His testimony was that he was employed by Dorsey; his testimony was that he was settled with by Dorsey, and the testimony of the receipt that he signed is that he settled with Miner and not with Dorsey; the testimony of Miner is that he was settled with by Miner, and not with by Dorsey; the testimony of Dorsey is that he never had any conversation with him in the world except at the time he paid him the two hundred and fifty dollars. They say Rerdell was present at the conversation. Why did they not prove it by Rerdell after Dorsey had sworn to the contrary? And yet Mr. Bliss tells you that he is not contradicted—"utterly uncontradicted."
Mr. Ker, it seems, has an opinion of this same witness, I believe. He says, on page 4511:
He says he started out and went to work, as these records show, and made the subcontracts according to his instructions, and got up the petitions according to his instructions.
He swears he did not get up a petition at all, not one; he swears that he had not time. And yet these gentlemen say that he got up petitions according to his instructions, and he swears he did not. He swears he told Major to, and that Major signified his willingness to do it. Major swears that that is a falsehood. He swears the same with reference to McBean, and McBean swears that it is a falsehood. Now Mr. Ker goes on:
He fixed them up and changed the language a little in some, and in some he did not take the trouble to change, but he fixed them all so that there was a space between the writing and the names, so that they could be cut off and pasted on other papers.
He expressly denies that he ever fixed a petition in the world.
Mr. Ker. What page?
Mr. Ingersoll. You ask the page! Talk to the jury seven days! I say that this man never fixed up a petition, and he never says that he fixed up a petition. Where is the page on which he says it? He was willing to do it, but he had not the time. I will show you that language. There is what they say about this man. Then he says he got a note from Miner, and went to Denver and met Miner. That is right. Then Miner offered him a quarter interest in the routes in this vast conspiracy.
Let us find what Moore thinks of himself. We find that on page 1398. He is a good man, worthy of this case, according to the eternal fitness of things. I come to this quicker than I thought I would. It is page 1396:
Q. Did you get up any?—A. No, sir; I didn't have the time.
There it is. Now, of course, Mr. Ker forgot. I call your attention to this to show how little weight such evidence is entitled to in reference to a conversation five years ago, when Mr. Ker could not remember this with the book before him.
Mr. Ker. I asked you for the page on which Mr. McBean's testimony appears.
Mr. Ingersoll. Mr. Moore is the witness. Mr. Moore swears that he never got up such a petition. Mr. Ker says he did. He and Mr. Ker will have to settle their own difficulty.
On last Friday, in reply, I think, to a question of Mr. Ker, I stated that I thought McBean swore that Mr. Moore did not make any arrangement with him to get up false petitions. In that I was mistaken. Mr. Moore swore that he made an arrangement with McBean to get up petitions. He did not quite swear that McBean agreed to get up false and fraudulent petitions. He just came to the edge of it and did not quite swear to it. Afterwards McBean was recalled by the Government and the Government did not ask McBean whether he had ever agreed to get up any petitions or whether he had ever made any such arrangement with Moore. They did not ask him and we did not ask him. I do not know why they did not ask him. They probably know.
I also stated that Moore swore that he got his instructions about these petitions from Dorsey. The evidence is that he got his instructions not from Dorsey but from Miner; that Miner so instructed him, and that thereupon he made the bargain to get up such petitions with a man by the name of Major on the Redding and Alturas route. I make this correction because I do not want you or any one else to think that I wish any misstatement made in our favor. We do not need it and consequently there is no need of making it. You will remember that after Moore swore that he made a bargain with Major to get up false petitions, Major swore that it was untrue. You will also remember that Judge Carpenter called for the petitions that were gotten up upon the routes that Moore had something to do with, and I think he showed you on one route eleven or twelve petitions. Mr. Major swears that every petition was honest, that the statements in each petition were true, and that the signatures were genuine. All those petitions were shown to you. So that the result of the Moore testimony is this: Moore swears that Miner told him to get up such petitions. He then swears that he made that bargain with Major. Major says it is not true. Moore almost swears that he made the same bargain with McBean. McBean says nothing on the subject. Then we bring here the petitions upon those very routes, and especially upon the Redding and Alturas route, and we find no such petitions as are described by Moore. That is enough in regard to Mr. Moore upon that one point.
There is one little piece of testimony to which I failed to call your attention on Friday, and to which I will call your attention now. Moore was the friend of Boone. Boone recommended him to Miner. It was through Boone that Moore was employed. Now, I ask you if it is not wonderful that Moore never told Boone that there was a conspiracy on foot? Is it not wonderful that Moore did not tell Boone, his friend, the man to whom he was indebted for the employment, "There is a conspiracy in this case. Senator Dorsey as good as told me so. I know all about it."
The fact is he never said one word, and the reason we know it, is that Boone swears that when he went out on the 7th or 8th of August he never even suspected it. I cannot, it seems to me, make this point too plain. Boone had been known by Dorsey for a long time. They were very good friends. Dorsey had enough confidence in him to select him as the man to get the necessary information after he had been requested so to do in the letter. Boone was the man who attended to this business more than anybody else. Boone was interested with John W. Dorsey. Boone had every reason to find out exactly what was happening. He was at Dorsey's house, where Miner was. He talked with Miner day after day. He helped get up the bids. He did a great deal of mechanical work. He had the subcontracts printed. Yet during all that time Dorsey never let fall a chance expression that gave Boone even the dimmest dawn of a hint that there was a conspiracy. Nobody told Boone. Moore, his friend, never spoke of it.
Now, there is one other point with regard to Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore swears, on page 1371, that Miner offered him a fourth interest in these routes. That was the conversation in which he said Mr. Miner told him they were good affidavit men. According to Moore's testimony he then knew there was a conspiracy, and he understood that he was part and parcel of it. Let me ask you right here, is it probable that Moore would have been offered a quarter interest at that time if a conspiracy existed, and if they had their plans laid to make hundreds of thousands of dollars, and if the profits had depended upon the affidavits alone? I ask you, as sensible, reasonable men, if he would have been offered a quarter interest under those circumstances? Now conies in what I believe to be the falsehood. Mr. Moore says that the interest was offered to him by Miner, but Miner said it would have to be ratified by Stephen W. Dorsey. That is brought in for the purpose of having some evidence against Dorsey. You must recollect, gentlemen, that this evidence was all purchased. This evidence was all bargained for in the open shamble. You must recollect that there are upon the records of this court some seven or ten indictments against A. E. Boone. You must remember that Moore was Boone's friend. You must remember that Moore was a part of the consideration that Boone was giving to the Government for immunity.
Mr. Merrick. Is there any proof of that?
Mr. Ingersoll. I think there is. Mr. Moore swears as to the number of indictments against Boone. He was his friend. The jury have a right to infer what motive prompts a witness. Moore wished to swear enough, so that Mr. Boone would not be troubled. In my judgment, Mr. Boone, being under indictment, gave evidence in this case in order that the Government would take its clutch from his throat. He swore under pressure. That is the system, gentlemen, that is dangerous in any country. Whenever a Government advertises for witnesses; whenever a Government says to a guilty man, or to a man who is indicted, "All we ask of you is to help us convict somebody else;" whenever they advertise for a villain, they get him. That is the result of what they call the informer system—an infamous system. A court of justice, where justice is done between man and man, is the holiest place on earth. The informer system turns it into a den, into a cavern, into a dungeon, where crawl the slimy monsters of perjury and treachery. That is the informer system. It makes a court a den of wild beasts. What else does it do? Under its brood and hatch come spies; spies to watch witnesses, spies to watch counsel, spies to follow jurymen, so that a juror cannot leave his house without the shadow of the spy falling upon his door-step. That is not the proper attitude of a Government. The business of a Government is to protect its citizens, not to spread nets. The business of a Government is to throw its shield of power in front of the rights of every citizen. I hold in utter, infinite, and absolute contempt any Government that calls for informers and spies. Every trial should be in the free air. All the work should be done openly. These sinister motions in the dark, the crawling of these abnormal and slimy things, I abhor.
Now, to come back to Moore. Upon my word I think he was trying to help his friend. After Mr. Miner had offered him a quarter interest, then he came back to Washington. He arrived here, according to his evidence, about the 11th day of July, I think. He went immediately to see Stephen W. Dorsey. Recollect that. That was the time Dorsey settled with him without looking at his books. After he settled with him and gave him two hundred and fifty dollars he asked him to telegraph to see if the service had been put on The Dalles and Baker City route. He waited here until he received an answer, and after that he talked with Dorsey not only about that matter, but in that conversation Dorsey said, according to Moore, that it took a good deal of money to keep up their influence in the department. When I asked him when that conversation was, he said two or three days after the first conversation. According to the evidence in this case Stephen W. Dorsey left this city on the 12th of July. This man Moore arrived on the nth, and he says two or three days after his arrival Dorsey said it took money to keep up their influence here. When he swears that Dorsey told him that, Dorsey was in the city of Oberlin, Ohio. Recollect these things. Whoever tells stories of this character should have a most excellent memory.
Now, there is another thing. When did Miner get back? He got back by the 24th of July, because on the 24th of July he settled with Moore, and I believe then Moore went West again. Now, remember there was a contract made, as Moore swears. He has not got it. Nobody sees it. He says there was a contract made by which he had a fourth interest in something. He got back here I believe some time in November, and on the 20th of November he and Miner settled. I will now look on page 1430 for that settlement. I want you to see how everything was situated at that time.
I find on page 1430 that Mr. Miner settled for everybody with Mr. A. W. Moore. Remember the situation. Moore knew there was a conspiracy. All the service was on. You see, this was November 20, 1880. Vaile was in. They had a man who was close to Brady. Everything was running in magnificent style. Mr. Moore understood that there was a conspiracy. What more did he understand? That he had the claw of his avarice in the flesh of a United States Senator and in the flesh of a Second Assistant Postmaster-General. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were to be made. He came back here and settled up and sold out his interest for how much? Six hundred and eighty-two dollars. Do you believe that? Credulity would not believe it. Nobody believes it, that is if the rest of the story is true. Why did he settle with him for so little? He said Mr. Miner told him he hadn't a dollar. He did not reply to him, "When this conspiracy is completed you will have plenty. I can wait." No. Miner said he hadn't anything and so Moore settled for six hundred and eighty-two dollars. Then I asked him, "You had a contract with Dorsey, did you?" "Yes; verbally." "Did you ever say anything to Dorsey about it?" "No." "Did you ever claim anything from Dorsey?" "No." "Did you ever write to him?" "No." "Did you ever say anything to anybody that you had any claim against Dorsey?" "No." You saw Mr. Moore, gentlemen, here upon the stand. Do you think he is the kind of man who would let such a chance slip? It is for you to judge. In my judgment that is the eternal end of Moore's testimony. We can call him buried. We can put the sod over his grave. We can raise a stone to the memory of A. W. Moore. Let him rest in peace, or to use the initials only, let him R. I. P. That is the end of him. If the Government wishes to dig up the corpse hereafter let them dig.
Mr. Ker. I would like—
Mr. Ingersoll. [Interposing.] I don't want to hear from you.
The Court. You do not know what he is going to say.
Mr. Ingersoll. He may be intending to make a motion that the jury be instructed to find a verdict of not guilty.
Mr. Ker. As Mr. Merrick will have to answer, he simply wants to know the page.
Mr. Ingersoll. If Mr. Merrick wants to know the page he shall have the page, or anybody that wishes to answer. If counsel had simply asked me for the page, without getting up in such a solemn manner, I would have told him.
On page 1406, Mr. Moore says that he went to Dorsey and got the money, and that then Dorsey requested him to telegraph to The Dalles, and that he did not see Dorsey after he got the answer to his dispatch, I think, for two or three days. He reached Washington, he says, about the 11th. On page 1372, he speaks of telegraphing to The Dalles by instructions from Dorsey.
Now, gentlemen, I am going to call your attention for a little while to another witness, Mr. Rerdell. And in the commencement, I need not refresh your minds with regard to the part he has played. I need not, in the first instance, tell you about his affidavit of June, 1881, nor his affidavit of July 13, 1882, nor his pencil memorandum, nor his Chico letter, nor his offer to pack the jury on behalf of the Government, nor the signals he had agreed upon, nor the reports he made from day to day, nor the affidavit of September that he made for the Government, nor of November nor of February. All these things you remember and remember perfectly. I will speak of them as I reach them, but I want you to keep in your minds who he is.
I need not call any names. Epithets would glance from his reputation like bird-shot from the turret of a monitor. The worst thing I can say about him is to call him Mr. Rerdell. All epithets become meaningless in comparison. The worst thing I can say after that would have the taint of flattery in it. You will remember when Enobarbus was speaking to Agrippa about Cæsar, he says, "Would you praise Cæsar, say Cæsar. Go no further." And I can say, "If you wish to abuse this witness, say Mr. Rerdell. Go no further." That is as far as I shall go.
You will remember that Mr. Rerdell was in the employ of Stephen W. Dorsey, and had been for several years. He does not pretend that he was ever badly used; he does not say before you that Mr. Dorsey ever did to him an unkind act, ever said an unkind word. In all the record of the years that he was with him he finds no page blotted with an unjust act, not one. He has no complaint to make. Under those circumstances he voluntarily goes to see a man by the name of Clayton, I think an ex-Senator from Arkansas, known to him at that time to be an enemy of Stephen W. Dorsey, an enemy of his employer, an enemy of his friend—his friend, whose bread this witness had eaten for years, whose roof had protected him, who had trusted and treated him like a human being. Yet he goes to this man Clayton, and he says, in substance, "I want to sell out my friend to the Government." He was not actuated exactly by patriotism, although he says he was. The promptings of virtue may have started him, but after he got started he said to himself, "I do not see that it hurts virtue to be rewarded." So he said, "I want some pay for this; I want a steamboat route reinstated; I want the Jennings claim allowed. Of course I am disinterested in what I am doing, but I might as well have something, if it is going." "What else do you want?" The disinterested patriot suggested that he would like to have a clerkship for his father-in-law. "Anything else?" If you will read his letter of July 5, 1882, which I will read to you before I get through, you will see that he says, "If I had remained with the Government I have every reason to believe I would have had a good position by this time." So he must have demanded a clerkship for himself—good, honest man. At that time he did not know, but swore it afterwards and swore it here upon the stand, that Dorsey had never done anything wrong; and yet he was willing to sell him to the Government, believing that he had never done anything wrong. So he went and saw the Postmaster-General. The Postmaster-General did not appear to take any great interest in the matter. He turned him over to the Attorney-General. He showed the Postmaster-General what he had, and read him, I believe, or showed him some memoranda. Then he went and saw the Attorney-General. The Postmaster-General did not seem to give him encouragement. Then when he went to see MacVeagh he took with him a letter-book—I do not know but more than one—but we will say a letter-book. Now, what was in that letter-book? And, gentlemen, the only way to find whether a man tells the truth is to take all the circumstances into consideration. What did he want to do? What was his object? And what were the means at his command? For instance, it is said that a man left his house with the intention of murdering another, and that he had on his table a loaded revolver, and also had on his table a small walking-stick, and he took with him the walking-stick. You would say he did not intend to commit the murder; that if he had so intended he would have taken the deadly weapon. In other words, you must believe that men, acting for the accomplishment of a certain object, use the natural means within their power.
Now, what did he have in that letter-book? He swears now that in that letter-book there was a copy of a letter from Stephen W. Dorsey to James W. Bosler; that the original letter was written by Stephen W. Dorsey. That press-copy, of course, would show that the original letter was in the handwriting of S. W. Dorsey. What does he swear was in that letter? He swears that Dorsey made a proposition to Bosler to go into the business; told him the profits, and told him that he had to give thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B.; that he had already paid him, I think, twenty thousand dollars, and had more to pay him. According to the testimony of Mr. Rerdell, that was in the letter-book that he took to Mr. MacVeagh. Now, recollect that. Why did he not show it? He had forgotten it. He showed him what he had. Recollect now, that he had a tabular statement. I think the letter showed so much money to T. J. B., and the tabular statement thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B. He had that tabular statement, and that was in Dorsey's handwriting. He says he had it. Well, after that, the Attorney-General must have told him, "That is not enough; I want some more." "Well," he says, "I can let you have some more." "What more can you let us have?" Well, then he told him about the red books; I do not know that he said they were red, but he told him about the books and that those books were in New York, and he would go over there and get them; that he was going to steal them; he says he went over to get them, and afterwards admitted, I believe that lie was stealing them.
Now, we must remember the position Rerdell was in. He had been to Clayton, to the Postmaster-General in company with Mr. Woodward, and to the Attorney-General in company with Mr. Woodward, and yet there was not enough. Well, it was all he had. What more could he do? He suddenly found himself caught in his own trap. He had furnished enough to trouble him, but not enough to convict Dorsey, and not enough to be promised immunity. Now, what had he to do? He did exactly as he did with Mr. Woodward in September, when he made that affidavit, and when Woodward said it was not enough; he said, "Very well, I will make another," the same as he did when he made the affidavit of seventy pages in November and found it was a little weak. He made another, and he would have made them right along. He had a factory running night and day. Now, he tells you that while he was talking with MacVeagh, just towards the last of the conversation, the idea flashed into his brain that he might save Dorsey too. Don't you remember that testimony? And as quick as he thought of that, he agreed to go to New York and steal the books. The very last thing that MacVeagh said to him, according to MacVeagh's testimony, and I believe according to his own, was to be sure and get the books; that they were all important. So he went, as he claims. Now, did it occur to him that he would save Dorsey in that way? Did he think of saving Dorsey by going and getting these books? That was the last thing, and he was going to get the books to be used as evidence against Dorsey.
In a few days he says he started for New York, and the question arises, why did Rerdell go to New York at all? Why did he want to see that the books were in New York? Why did he pretend that he had any more evidence unless he had it? You see you have got to get at the philosophy of this man; you have got to find what actuated him; and although in many respects he is abnormal, unnatural, monstrous, and morally deformed, still it may be that we can find the philosophy upon which he acted. Why did he say he was going to New York? Because the Attorney-General told him—he must have told him—that the evidence he then had was not sufficient. Rerdell could not break down right there and say, "That is all I have got." That would give up the fight; that would tell him that he had endeavored to sell out his friend and nobody would buy the evidence; that would tell him that he had tried this and had failed; that he had simply succeeded in showing his own treachery without involving his friend. He could not stop there. You must recollect the evidence he had, and the evidence he wanted.
Let us see what he had. Mr. Bliss says, "Why did he say the books were in New York? Why did he not say they were in Washington?" That would not have given him time, gentlemen. He would have been told, "Go and get them." Then he could not have produced them. Consequently he put them in the possession of somebody else, so that if he failed to get them, then he could say that the other man destroyed them or had hid them; he could have said, "I have done my best; they did exist, but they have been destroyed, or they have been hidden, or they have been put out of the way." He wanted time, and knowing that no such books existed, he could not say, "I have them in Washington," because then he could give no excuse for their non-production. He must state it in such a way that he could reasonably fail; that is to say, that he could give a reason for his failure. He could not say, "I have them in my house," because he would have been told to go and get them. So he put them in the possession of another man, so that, failing to get them, as fail he must, he could give a reasonable excuse for the failure.
Why did he go to New York? I will tell you what my philosophy is: He found that the Government did not wish to purchase the evidence that he had. He found that, in the judgment of the expert of the Department of Justice, it was not sufficient. The next thing was to retrace his steps. He did not want to jump off of one boat into the sea and find no other boat to rescue him. He said: "I have been too hasty; I will go to New York." Why? To find out whether Dorsey had heard of this or not. That is what he went there for. The inferior man always imagines that the superior knows what he is doing, and knows what he has done. He found that he was about to fail with the Government, and then the important question to him was: Has Dorsey found this out? Can I go back to Dorsey? Or must I go on and be cast away by him and be refused by the Government?
Now let me call another thing to your minds. I will come to it again, but it forces itself upon me at this place, and it seems to me it ought to be absolutely conclusive.
He swears that on the day after he went to MacVeagh with that letter-book, in looking it over he found the press-copy of the original letter that Dorsey wrote to Bosler on the 13th of July, 1879. says that the next day he found that copy in that copy-book. Why did he not steal the book? Conscientious scruples, gentlemen! You see he was going to New York to steal another. Why not steal one that he already had possession of? And how much better that book would have been than the other that he was going to get. This was a copy of a letter in Dorsey's handwriting, in which he admitted that he had paid twenty thousand dollars to T. J. B., and was going to pay him some more, while that book in New York was not in Dorsey's handwriting—admitting, for the sake of the argument, that there was a book—but was in the handwriting of Donnelly or Rerdell. See? And right there he had the evidence, absolutely conclusive, in the handwriting of S. W. Dorsey himself, and he did not even keep it, he did not even steal it, but he gave it back and went to New York to steal a book that Dorsey did not write. He threw away primary evidence to get secondary evidence. He threw away that which would have convicted Dorsey beyond a doubt, which would have made him a welcome recruit to the Government. He threw that away and went to New York to get another, a line of which Dorsey never wrote; and then he would have to establish, after he got that book, that "William Smith" stood for Thomas J. Brady; he would have to prove after they got that book that "John Smith" or "Samuel Jones" stood for Turner. Now, gentlemen, do you believe that that man, with his ideas of honor, with the kind of a conscience he has in his bosom, with the copy of a letter in Dorsey's handwriting in his possession admitting that Dorsey gave twenty thousand dollars to T. J. B., would give that up and then go to the city of New York to steal a book not in Dorsey's handwriting, and that did not prove that Dorsey had ever paid a cent to Thomas J. Brady, in which there was one charge to "William Smith," and that would have to be eked out by the testimony of Rerdell himself, when he had right there in his own grasp and clutch the press-copy of the original letter written by Dorsey himself? Do you believe it? There is not a man on that jury believes it; there is not a lawyer prosecuting this case who believes it.
What else did he have? He had a letter that he himself, as he claims, wrote to Bosler on the 22d of May, 1880, after he, Rerdell, had been summoned to appear before a committee of Congress. He had, he says, those three sheets.
What else did he have the morning after he was talking with MacVeagh? He had the tabular statement in the handwriting of Stephen W. Dorsey, and over the Brady column, "T. J. B., thirty-three and one-third per cent."
What more did that man have? He had the balance-sheets made out, as he swears, by Donnelly, of those books. Were the balance-sheets just as good as the books?
Now, just think what he had, according to his own testimony: A copy of the original letter, written by Dorsey to Bosler, in which he admitted his guilt; a copy of the tabular statement, written by Dorsey, in which he put down thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B. What more? Copy of the letter that he had written to Bosler on the 22d of May, 1880. He had all that, and he must have had this memorandum, though I will show you that he had not, and I think I will show you when he made it. And yet he was going to New York to get some more evidence. He was going to steal another book in New York that would simply create a suspicion, while he gave up a book that was absolute certainty. That is the theory. But they say, "Oh, he did not do that quite." What did he do? He went and had that copied. He swears that he had copied that letter of May 13, 1879, that Dorsey wrote to Bosler, in which he admitted that he gave twenty thousand dollars to Brady. Now, a copy would not show in whose handwriting the press-copy was, would it? That is a very important point. Who copied it? I think he said Miss Nettie L. White copied it. We never hear of Miss Nettie L. White again, though. These gentlemen admit that you are not to believe Mr. Rerdell on any point that is not corroborated, and when he swears that Miss Nettie L. White copied the letter you are not bound to believe there was such a letter unless they bring Miss White or account for her absence. They did not bring her. That is an extremely important point in their case, infinitely more important than whether the red books ever existed. Did Dorsey write a letter to Bosler in which he admitted his guilt? This man says that he had complete and perfect evidence of it in his own hand; that he gave that up; that he had that copied by Miss White. And they did not bring Miss White. Certainly he had no scruples about tearing it out. He says he tore out his letter to Bosler of the 22d of May, 1880. He had no scruples about that. He did not refuse to keep the book because it touched his honor, because in a day or two he was going to steal another not half as good as that one, not one-tenth part as good. Just think. He gave up evidence that was absolute and complete, and went to steal evidence that was secondary and of the poorest character. You do not believe it. He would have kept that book if he had kept any. If he was going to steal any evidence, and had the best, he would have kept it. The trouble was that there was no such letter in that book. There was his letter of May 22, 1880; no doubt about that; and that man tore it out, and then he made up one in his own mind, and had it of that date; that is all.
So he went to New York, and he swears that he went right up to the Albemarle Hotel; that it was early in the morning; that Dorsey was not then up; and that he had a conversation with Dorsey, in which Dorsey charged him with having had something to do with the Government, with having gone over to the Government. Dorsey had heard that there was something going on about that time, and I suppose he asked Mr. Rerdell about it. Rerdell denied it; said there was no truth in it; that nothing of the kind, character, or sort had ever happened.
Now let us just see whether I can demonstrate to you that Rerdell, in the conversation he had with Dorsey at the Albemarle Hotel, denied that he had gone over to the Government, or that he had done anything that was not perfectly honest, straightforward, and upright. I refer to it now, although I may come to it again.
And, gentlemen, I am sorry for you; I pity every one of you, that you have to hear all that has to be said in this case. But you must put yourselves, for the moment, in our places. You must remember that these defendants have borne this agony, have been roofed and surrounded with disorder for two years. You must remember that the agents of the Government have pursued them, they have watched over them and spied them night and day. You must remember that they have been slandered for years in the public press, although the tone of the public press is now changing, and changing in such a marked degree that one of the attorneys here for the prosecution claimed that we had bought up the correspondents. When you take into consideration what my clients have suffered, the position they are now in, fighting this great and powerful Government, I know you will excuse us for inflicting upon you every thought and every argument that we think may be for our defence.
I am doing for my clients what I would do for you, or any of you, if you were defendants, and I am doing for them what I would want them to do for me were I a defendant and they my counsel.
Now I am going to demonstrate this. When Mr. Rerdell got to Jersey City he telegraphed back, according to the evidence of Mr. Dorsey:
Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust.
I believe Rerdell swears that he did not send that. He had a memorandum-book which he took out of his pocket. I think a leaf was torn from it, and he ran his pencil through this line on the page on which he had taken a copy of this dispatch, "Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust," and says he did not send it. Why did he put his pencil through that? Because that line would not agree with the testimony he had given upon the stand. "Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust" was in that dispatch. I want to ask you if you believe that Rerdell could have sent that dispatch to a man to whom he had admitted that very morning that he had gone over to the Government? Do you believe it? How perfectly natural it would have been for him to send a dispatch from Jersey City that harmonized and accorded with his denial of that morning.
Just look at that [handing the paper to the foreman of the jury.] Just read it. I want the jury to look at it. He rubbed it out of his memorandum-book. When? At the time? No, sir; when he found that he wanted something to harmonize with his evidence here. Even he had not the brazen effrontery to swear that he had told Dorsey that very morning that he (Rerdell) had gone over to the Government, and then that very afternoon to telegraph him—Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust.
Why, in comparison with that cheek brass is a liquid. What is the next sentence?
The affidavit story is a lie.
Why did he leave that in? Because technically that was true. He had not then made an affidavit, and there is nothing so pleases a man who has made up his mind to tell a lie as to have mixed with the mortar of that lie one hair of truth. It is delightful to smell the perfume of a fact in the hell-broth of his perjury. Just look at that. These two things show that he had not admitted to Dorsey that he had told the Government anything against Dorsey. He wanted Dorsey to understand that he, Rerdell, had not communicated with the Government. Now, if you admit his evidence to be true, at the time he sent that dispatch he had the stolen book under his arm, and you, gentlemen of the jury, are asked to believe a man who would do that thing. I would not. I would not convict the meanest, lowest wretch that ever crawled between heaven and earth upon such testimony. Never. Neither can you do it. A verdict must rest upon a fact. The fact must rest upon the testimony of a witness. That witness must be, or seem to be, an honest man. And unless a verdict is based upon the bed-rock of honesty, it is infinitely rotten, and the jury that will give a verdict not based upon honesty is corrupt.
Mr Crane (foreman of the jury.) I notice that this dispatch seems to have been written with different pencils at different times.
Mr Ingersoll—Up to this moment I have been faithful to every trust—Is written very dimly.
The affidavit story is a lie, but confidence between us is gone—Is in still a different hand.
I resign my position and will turn everything over to any one you designate—Is still another hand. Three hands, three pencils, in the one memorandum. These papers have been manufactured, and when the Government said, "This is not enough," another paragraph has been added.
How hard it is to perpetrate a piece of rascality and do it well. There are an infinite number of things in this universe, and everything that is in it is related to everything else; and when you get a falsehood in it that does not belong to the family, it has not the family likeness; and when anybody sees it who is acquainted with the family, he says, "That is an adopted young one."
Mr. Rerdell now says, I believe, that he did not send that line, "Up to this moment," &c. Dorsey swears that he did. Rerdell then produces this book and this paper which I have shown to you.
Now, let us follow Mr. Rerdell from the Albemarle Hotel.
I will show that he crosses himself on almost every fact that he endeavors to swear to. He swears that he went to Dorsey's; that from Dorsey's he went immediately to Tor-rey's office; that he then went and got lunch and then went to Jersey City. He also swears that he got his breakfast before he went to Dorsey's. In the next examination he swears that he got his breakfast after he went to Dorsey's, and after he got the book he went to Jersey City, first walking up and down Broadway for about an hour. He had forgotten about the lunch. There is nothing in it but a mass of contradiction. He swears that he went down to Torrey's office. Why did he not make it earlier, as soon as he got off the boat? Because he did not have any key to the office. It would not do to swear that he broke into the office and that nobody ever heard of it, and so he had to put the time after the office would naturally be open. Well, now we have got him as far as the office. He swears that he went in there and saw Mr. Torrey. After chatting a little with Torrey, and telling him the object of his visit, Torrey took him into the next room and took these books from a shelf or desk, or something of that kind, and handed them both to him, and he looked them over at his leisure, while Mr. Torrey went back to his business. He finally took the journal and left the ledger. Why did he leave the ledger? I will tell you after a while. Every lie, as well as every truth, has its philosophy. He took the journal and came along out with it under his arm, not wrapped up, not concealed. Then he had another chat with Torrey about the weather or something, and then he went on. Why did he swear that he had a conversation with Torrey in that office? I will tell you. When he was giving that testimony, Torrey was in mid-ocean, between New York and Liverpool. I guess Mr. Rerdell had heard that the man was away. He thought he would be absolutely and perfectly safe, and so he said he had a conversation with Torrey. The moment he repeated that conversation with Torrey, I said, "Where is Torrey?" We telegraphed to New York and we found that Torrey had left for the old country. We sent a cablegram to Queenstown and we intercepted him. I think he staid a day in the old country, and took the next ship and came back, arriving here in time to swear that Rerdell never visited that office, that he never had that conversation with him, and that he never got that book from that office; more than that, that that book never was in that office. Who are you going to believe, Torrey or Rerdell?
Another man was there on that very day, Mr. Mullins. He never had any recollection of seeing Rerdell until he saw him here. All the books were kept in the safe except the books that Torrey had in his desk. No such books were in the safe and no such books were in Torrey's desk. Gentlemen, no such books existed, and I will demonstrate it to you before I get through. No doubt the man had some little expense-books of his own. He has widened them, he has lengthened them, he has thickened them, he has colored them. He has refreshed other people. When the Government tells a man, "You have got an office, haven't you?" "Yes." "Well, we want you to remember this." Then he is refreshed on the subject. The words the Government speaks are rain and dew and sunlight upon the dry grass of his memory and it springs up green. He says he has been refreshed. Before I get through I will show you that these things were proved only by gentlemen who had been refreshed.
Now, why did Rerdell say he took the journal and left the ledger? I will tell you. There is more in the shirt theory than you would think. He had a shirt in a paper, folded up just once over the bosom. Unexpectedly lie met Mr. James on the train. He was very much surprised to meet him, because James swears he was very much surprised to meet Rerdell. James knew that he had gone over to New York to get those books, and he asked him, "Did you get the books?" Rerdell had that beggarly little package. He could not call that "books," because it was not large enough, and so he had to say he had a book. That was the reason he said journal and not ledger. He had too small a package for "books," and consequently he told James he had the "book," and he is sticking to it; only one book. Another reason: He said to James, and it was very smart of him, "I don't want to show you what I have got in this package, because there is a fellow looking," and so the shirt, in unconscious innocence, reposed unseen. Who was the fellow who was looking? Chase Andrews. You recollect him. He came into the depot at Jersey City at the time Rerdell was writing this virtuous dispatch, this certificate of his honor and of his faithfulness. He shook hands with Rerdell. Rerdell said he had a carpet-sack, but it was not big enough to get one of these books in. He wanted the jury to think it was a pretty big book. He hated to lose a chance of adding to the size of the book, and so he swore that it was too big to put in the carpet-sack. If he had only had sense enough to put it in the carpet-sack, and let it alone, we never could have proven anything about it by Chase Andrews. Andrews would not have sworn that he looked through the carpet-sack. But Rerdell in his anxiety to have that book a big book said he could not get it into the carpet-sack, and consequently must have held it in his hand. Chase Andrews saw him in the depot at Jersey City, and rode in the next seat in the Pullman car from Jersey City to Washington, and Rerdell had no book. Who will you believe, Chase Andrews or Mr. Rerdell?
Mr. Ingersoll. [Resuming.] May it please the Court and gentlemen of the jury.
It is also claimed by the prosecution that on the evening of the day on which Rerdell was in New York and sent the telegram from Jersey City. Dorsey wrote a letter to Rerdell in which he begged him for the sake of his family, for the sake of his children, and everything to go no further. I believe it is claimed that after Mr. Rerdell got back here to Washington he showed that letter to his brother. It struck me as extremely wonderful that he did not show his brother the book; that was such an important thing, it being the thing that he went after, being something that was to decide his fate with the Government. There was nothing about that. Let me say right here: Suppose his story is true that he told Dorsey that he had been to the Government. Would Dorsey write to that man a letter begging him for God's sake not to go further? Would he not rather have sent some man to see him? He knew at that time that he was utterly dishonest, having received that very afternoon, according to Rerdell's testimony, a telegram from Rerdell, in which Rerdell admitted that he had told a falsehood. Would he then have put himself upon paper? Would he have put himself in the power of that same man? I ask you, because you know there is about as much human nature in one person as in another, on the average, and the only way you can tell what another man will do is by thinking "What would I do under the circumstances?"
I am going to demonstrate to you now with just one point that there were no such books. When Rerdell came to make the affidavit of June 20, 1881, Dorsey knew that Rerdell had talked with MacVeagh, James, and Clayton. He also knew that Rerdell, according to his statement, had promised to go to New York and get the red book. Rerdell swears in the affidavit of June, 1881, that he promised MacVeagh to go to New York and get those books. Dorsey knew at that time whether such books existed or not. If he knew they did exist then he knew that Rerdell went after them. Why did not Dorsey ask Rerdell at the time he made that affidavit, "Did you get a book in New York?" Admitting, for the sake of the argument, that Rerdell's story is true that the books were there and that Dorsey knew it, would not Dorsey have asked him, when he was making the affidavit of June 20, 1881, "Did you get a book in New York? What did you do with it, if you did?" Rerdell swears that Dorsey did not mention that subject; that it was not talked of between them. Why? Because both knew that no such books existed. That is the reason he did not ask him if he got it. He knew that he did not get it. Why? Because the book was not there to be obtained. Can you explain that on any other hypothesis? Dorsey knew at this time, according to the testimony of Rerdell, that Rerdell was dishonest; knew that Rerdell had tried to sell him out to the Government; knew that Rerdell had promised MacVeagh he would go to New York and get those books; knew that Rerdell had been to New York; knew that Rerdell had gotten back, and yet did not ask him, "Did you get a book?" Would he not naturally have said, "I want that book that you got in New York. I want it now." It also appears in evidence that on the very day that Rerdell was in New York and says he was in Torrey's office, Torrey in the afternoon went to the Albemarle Hotel to do some writing for Mr. Dorsey. Is it conceivable that Torrey would not in that conversation have told Dorsey, "Your clerk, Rerdell, came to the office to-day and I gave him the mail book or one of those books"? Not a word. That affidavit was made in June, 1881, and was the affidavit in which Rerdell disclosed what he had done with the Government, and that he had agreed to get that very book, and yet Dorsey did not take interest enough in the matter to ask him if he got a book.
Mr. Merrick. Is there any evidence of the conversation between Torrey and Dorsey?
Mr. Ingersoll. No. The evidence is that Torrey went there that evening. You claim that that was the topic of conversation, and that Dorsey sent dispatches to Rerdell that night and wrote a letter to Rerdell. So, I say, under the circumstances, and with the excitement then prevailing, it is inconceivable that Torrey should not have said, "Your man Rerdell has been at my office to-day, and got one of the books."
I say it is inconceivable that he did not tell him, and therefore Dorsey must have known it had it been a fact, and had it been a fact when Rerdell made the affidavit of 1881, Dorsey would have said, "I want that book. I want the book you stole from my office." He did not even mention it. It was not the subject of conversation. Yet, in that same affidavit, he said that he agreed to go and get it, and in that same affidavit he said that no such book ever existed. He swore to that affidavit from friendship. You see, gentlemen, about how much friendship that man is capable of. He swore for friendship that no such book existed; he now swears that it did. What is that for? You want to consider these things. Nobody asked about that book. The matter drifted along. The summer wore away. Autumn touched the woods with gold. Nobody ever mentioned the book. Winter came. That book was in a little carpet-sack hanging in a woodshed. A magnificent place to secrete property. The snows descended; the winds howled around that woodshed. The carpet-sack hung there with the book in it. Nobody touched it. I think the next year, may be that summer, he wrote or telegraphed to Mrs. Cushman to get the book. It suddenly occurred to him that a woodshed was not a safe place for it. She got a book. She looked into it enough to find out it was about the mail business. She put it away; finally that book was brought from its hiding-place on the 13th of July, 1882, when Rerdell says he handed it over to Dorsey, and there is not one syllable of evidence going to show that it was ever spoken of from the time he visited New York until he brought it to Dorsey, as he claimed, at Willard's Hotel. What made him give it to him? Dorsey was mad. Dorsey threatened that he would have Rerdell arrested for perjury, because Rerdell had sworn that he, Dorsey, was innocent. That is enough to excite the wrath of an ordinary man. Dorsey was then on trial. The first trial was then going on. We were right in the midst of it. The year before that Rerdell had solemnly taken his oath that Dorsey was an innocent man, and here Dorsey was in a court insisting that he was innocent. Yet he threatened to have Rerdell then and there punished for perjury because he had sworn that he was innocent. That frightened Rerdell. I think it was calculated to frighten any man.
Why did Dorsey allow Rerdell to keep that book? There is only one possible explanation: The book never existed. That is all. Torrey would have told about it if it had been taken from his office, because I believe the evidence shows that that affidavit was shortly afterwards published. Nobody seemed to have taken any interest in that book. All interest faded away. Now, Mr. Rerdell made that affidavit on the 20th of June, 1881. I believe, on page 2468, Rerdell swears that when he made the affidavit of June 20, 1881, he had the copies of the original journal and ledger at Dorsey's office. Afterwards he swears he had not. He swears that he then gave them to Dorsey. Afterwards he says they were sent to New York the year before. I will come to that after awhile. Now, let us see what the position of affairs was on June 20, 1881. At this time Rerdell had furnished the Government all the information he had, except the book. Then they had said to him substantially, "The evidence is insufficient. We want more." Rerdell agreed to furnish them the books, and went to New York to get the books.
Now, he had Dorsey absolutely in his power, according to his account. What did he do? He had, according to his testimony, the copy of the letter Dorsey had written to Bosler on the 13th of May, 1879, the copy having been made by Miss Nettie L. White. He had the tabular statement in Dorsey's own handwriting, showing thirty-three and one-third per cent, to T. J. B. He had the letter that he himself wrote to Bosler on the 22d of May, 1880. He had the red book. According to his statement, on that day he had Dorsey in his power. All he had to do was to take the next step and secure absolute safety for himself and crush his employer. What did he do? He then said, "I went to the Government and played the detective." He retreated. He voluntarily put himself in a position a thousand times as perilous as he had been in before. He put himself in a place where he had to swear that what he told the Government was a lie, and that he was simply endeavoring to find out the Government's case and was acting as a detective. You must recollect that Rerdell is a man who does nothing for money. He will make an affidavit for unadulterated friendship. He will make it also from fright. He will make it also, he says, in the interest of truth. At that time he made an affidavit, as he says, for friendship, and it is for the jury to determine how much a man like Rerdell—because you know what he is just as well as I do—would do for friendship. You have seen him here day after day. You saw him sitting right at the door when Mr. Ker and Mr. Bliss were demonstrating to you that he was a guilty wretch, and you saw his face beaming with pleasure. He was absolutely delighted. Yet when Mr. Wilson stood here and endeavored to show that the man was not as bad as he said he was, endeavored to show that his plea of guilty was absolutely false, he slunk away, covered with the shame of innocence. He did not want to hear that. He wanted it understood that he was guilty, and that it was the proudest moment of his life. Now, it is for you to determine how much such a man would do for friendship. It is for you to determine how you can take advantage of his finer nature. He had Dorsey in his power, according to his story, but instead of carrying out his original design he turned against the Government. Why did he do that? Because of patriotism? No. Why? He did it for his own benefit, gentlemen. He never acted from any other motive. Why did he not stay with the Government? Because they would not give him his price for his evidence. Why would they not give him his price for his evidence? Because his evidence was not worth it. If he had had the copy of the letter from Dorsey to Bosler they would have given him his price. They would have followed him all over the United States to have given him his price. There was the absolute evidence against Dorsey. There was the evidence against the man whom Mr. MacVeagh wished to drag down. Why did they not buy it? Because the man did not have it. Why did he desert the Government? Because the Government would not give him his price. Again I ask why would not the Government give him his price? Because he had not the goods; he had not the evidence. Then what did he do? He sneaked back and asked protection of the man he had endeavored to betray. That is what he did. He again asked Dorsey to stand by him. Dorsey did not need this man. This man needed him, and he instantly deserted the Government and went back to Dorsey. For the sake of saving Dorsey? No. For the purpose of saving himself.
He had not the evidence. Yet, according to this testimony of his, he did what I told you. What else did he have? He had the route-book. What was the route-book, gentlemen? From the evidence it appears that this man kept a route-book, and that in it he had the name of each route, the number of the route, where it started from, and where it went to, the name of the contractor, the amount per year, the name of the subcontractor, the amount per year, and then a column showing whether it had been increased, and, if so, how much, and whether it had been expedited, and, if so, how much. He had that book. He says he was subpoenaed to appear before the Congressional committee. What book would that committee want? They would want the book that showed the original contracts, the subcontracts, the description of the routes, how much the Government paid to the contractor, and how much the contractor paid to the subcontractor. That was the book they wanted, and that was the book to hide if any hiding was to be done. That was the book to have copied. That was the book in which figures should have been changed, if in any. And yet he never said one word about that route-book. He had it in his possession. Why should he not expect the committee of Congress to call for that book? He did not tell you. He did not have that book copied, and yet that was the book that had in it every particle of information that the Congressional committee wanted. Not a word on that subject.
It appears, too, in the evidence, that Mr. Rerdell had in his possession certain notes that passed between him and Mr. Steele about the red books. Why were not those notes produced in evidence? Mr. Steele was here on the subpoena of the Government. Why were not those notes produced in evidence? Not a word about that. Is it possible that those notes were about the route-book? Why were they not produced? Rerdell went before that Congressional committee. He did not take any route-book. What did he take? He said that he had these books made up to take. Did they contain the accounts of the subcontractors? No. Donnelly swears there were not more than twelve accounts in the book. What was the use of taking that book, or those books, before the committee? Another thing: He says that he went immediately and got those books copied. Would he try to palm off the copies as originals? Would not the committee ask him the very first thing, "In whose handwriting are these books?" He could not say, "They are in mine," because then he would be caught. He would have to say, "They are in Mr. Donnelly's handwriting." The next question would be, "Where is Mr. Donnelly?" And the answer would be, "Here in town." The committee would send for him and would ask, "Mr. Donnelly, did you write in those books?" "Yes." "Did you make the entries at the time they purport to have been made?" "No, sir; I copied them from another set of books that Mr. Rerdell gave to me." He would either say that or swear to a lie. Then they would say, "Mr. Rerdell, we want the original books," and then he would be caught. You cannot imagine a more shallow device. More than that, the books would not have any information that the committee wanted, nothing about these contracts, and nothing about the amount paid the subcontractors. If the committee wanted anything they wanted to show that the Government was paying a large price and the contractors were paying to the subcontractors a small price. Rerdell says that when he was subpoenaed to bring his books he never thought of the route-book. He thought of the red books, and yet the route-book was the only book that had any information that the committee wanted. How was he to palm that off? Is it possible to think of a reason having in it less probability, less weight, less human nature than the reason he gives for having those books copied? There is another question. If Rerdell expected to palm off the copies as the originals, why did he keep the originals? For instance. I have a book here that I don't want Congress to see, and so I have it copied.
I am going to swear that that copy is the original; otherwise the device is good for nothing. Why keep the original and run the perpetual danger of discovery? Why not burn the original? Why keep the evidence of my own guilt, liable to be found at any moment by accident, by a servant, by a stranger? That is not human nature, gentlemen. Then there is another question: If he were going to have a book copied and then swear that the copy was the original, he would have copied it himself. If a man intends to swear to a lie the first thing he does is not to take somebody into the secret. Why should he have put himself in the power of Donnelly? He was the man to be the witness before the committee, and if his device worked he intended to swear before the committee that the copies were the originals; and yet, by going to Donnelly to have the work done, he manufactured a witness that would always stand ready to prove that he, Rerdell, had sworn to a falsehood. What men work in that way? When a man makes up his mind to swear to a lie does he take pains to go to one of his neighbors and say, "I am going to swear to a lie to-morrow and I want to give you the evidence of it. I am going to swear that a copy is an original. I want you to make the copy so that I can swear to it." Would not the neighbor then say, "I will be a witness against you in that case. You had better copy it yourself." Just see what he did. He took pains to have a witness so that if he swore falsely he could be contradicted and convicted. Why did he not copy the books himself? After he got the originals copied why did he not burn up the originals so that nobody could ever find them in his possession?
Let us take another step. Finally, he got before the committee. When he got before the committee what did he swear? He swore that he kept some expense-books showing how he stood with the contractors. I think that was the truth. I think that is what he did keep. He did not tell the committee about the route-book. Not a word. That was the only book that he concealed in his testimony. He said he kept some expense-books and those were all that he kept. He did not tell about the route-book. That is the only book that he failed to mention. Consequently, it seems to me, that was the only book he did not want to show. Why? Because he thought at that time they were going to make a great outcry about what was paid to the subcontractor and to the contractor and he had no advices from anybody, except from whom? Except from Mr. Bosler. What did Bosler tell him? Bosler told him, "I see no reason why you should not exhibit your books and papers." Now, according to Rerdell's testimony, on the 13th of May the year before, Dorsey had written a letter to Bosler informing him that he had given twenty thousand dollars to T. J. B. Bosler knew, if the testimony of Rerdell is true, that that letter had been written, and Bosler had that information. He knew if the letter had been copied, too, because every letter that one receives gives evidence whether it has been copied or not. And yet, knowing of that letter, he wrote to Rerdell or telegraphed him that he saw no reason why he should not show all his books and papers. Nobody believes that. Nobody ever will believe it! The earth may revolve in its orbit for millions of years, and generations may come and go, countless as the leaves of all the forests, and there never will be found a man of average intelligence to believe that story. Just think of it. Bosler, according to the testimony of Rerdell, had gone into partnership with Dorsey knowing there was a conspiracy, knowing Dorsey was paying to Brady thirty-three and one-third per cent, of the profits, and thereupon the clerk who attended to the business writes or telegraphs to him, and says he has been subpoenaed to appear before the Congressional committee with the books and papers, and Mr. Bosler knowing of the existence of the conspiracy, and knowing that Brady is getting thirty-three and one-third per cent, writes or telegraphs back that he sees no reason why all the books and papers should not be presented to the committee. Gentlemen, that is impossible; it never happened and it never will.