The next witness called was M. Ranc, member of the senate. He testified as follows:
“M. Zola’s good faith is complete and absolute. I know,Monsieur le Président, that you would not allow me to speak of the violation of the law and of the right of defence committed in the trial of 1894 by the non-communication to the defence of a secret document. I will simply say, then,Monsieur le Président, that M. Zola was legitimately surprised by the way in which the second trial was conducted, by its mere pretence of an examination, or what seemed such to many people, and which certainly was the merest phantom of a contradictory discussion, since the complainant was not represented, since there was no confrontation of experts with experts, and since, after a reading of the indictment, which was really a plea in favor of the accused, they ordered closed doors so far as the testimony of Colonel Picquart and the handwriting-experts was concerned. That alone, in my judgment, is enough to explain and to justify the feeling of generous indignation which prompted M. Zola. He is after truth and justice, and what he has done is, in my eyes, the act of a man of heart and great courage.”
M. Pierre Quillard, man of letters, who was present as a disinterested spectator at the Esterhazy trial, succeeded M. Ranc upon the witness-stand.
“As M. Zola is accused,” said he, “of having slandered the members of the council of war, reproaching them with having acquitted in obedience to orders, I believe that the impressions of a disinterested spectator may be useful in enlightening the religion of the jurors. We first listened to the indictment drawn up by M. Ravary. I suppose that the jurors are familiar with this document. It is indeed a remarkable document, very remarkable for its touching admiration of the eloquence of General Billot, and especially for the quite unusual kindliness exhibited toward the accused. And this kindliness seemed especially remarkable to those of us who were already familiar with the indictment of M. d’Ormescheville, seeing as we did that the same matters which were made a ground of complaint against that officer were cited in glorification of Major Esterhazy,—for instance, the fact of being a polyglot, and the fact of interesting himself in questions outside of his service. This indictment was, in reality, an argument against one of the witnesses, Lieutenant-Colonel Picquart. I felt at once that the disposition of the military court was favorable to M. Esterhazy. This impression was confirmed by the way inwhich the examination was conducted, and by the attitude of the court toward the witnesses. I do not wish to flatter the civil magistracy, but I believe that, as a rule, the civil magistrates study for themselves and in detail the documents relating to the matters submitted to them. Not so at all with the council of war, at least apparently. Every time that a specific document was referred to, the president of the council and the clerk had to appeal to M. Tézenas, M. Esterhazy’s lawyer. We are willing to believe that some of the documents cited were not of great importance, but here is an incident which seems to me notable and characteristic. M. Mathieu Dreyfus had declared in his testimony that in June, 1894, M. Esterhazy had written a letter in which he declared himself to be in a situation so frightful that, to extricate himself and his relatives, he perhaps would be obliged to commit a crime. It seems to me that this was a document of high importance in the case, but the president of the council had forgotten it, and M. Tézenas had to be called on to furnish the quotation. The document was handed to General de Luxer, who, after looking at it for some time, said: ‘There are four pages, it is very long;’ and then M. Mathieu Dreyfus went up to the bench and pointed out the specified phrase to the president. I was also very much struck at the kindly way in which M. Esterhazy’s examination was conducted. Whenever he suffered from lapse of memory, he had only to say: ‘That is not important,’ in order to cause his questioner to desist from pressing him. When M. Scheurer-Kestner said in his testimony: ‘Being a man, I may be mistaken,’ this expression of honesty was welcomed with sneers by the persons opposite him. Then closed doors were ordered, and, while one can understand the necessity of secrecy so far as certain testimony is concerned, no one has yet been able to see how the formation of s and x concerns the national defence. They came there in search of light, and I affirm that no attentive person went away without a conviction that men in power, if they had not given orders, had manifested a desire for a thickening of the darkness, rather than for light.”
M. Labori.—“What does M. Quillard think of M. Zola’s letter?”
M. Quillard.—“M. Zola belongs to a literary generation absolutely different from my own, and generally men of letters enjoying the public favor find in their immediate successors the worst of adversaries and the most clear-seeing of critics. We have not failed in this duty toward M. Zola,and even I, while rendering a high homage to his admirable work, which is an honor to French letters, have expressed the keenest reserves in regard to him. Therefore it is not at all as a faithful disciple that I come here, yet I am only the freer to say how beautiful, generous, and heroic the attitude of M. Zola seems to me. He might have kept silent; he might have listened to the counsels of what Victor Hugo in 1871 called the complaisance of public anger. He knew that, in writing the letter that he wrote, he was subjecting himself in advance to all insults and all infamies. He knew that he endangered not only his rest, but, as we now know, his life; that he endangered his honor, since we have arrived, it seems, at such a degree of social rottenness that no man can express his opinion without being accused of venality. Well, knowing the circumstances in which we live, and knowing the ignominy of anti-Semitism, I find this act of having spoken under these circumstances what he believed to be the truth, and his opinion that above the thing judged there was perhaps the thing true, to be worthy of an honest man, and of more honor to M. Zola than many of his works. So that I am happy to bring here the homage of my profound and respectful admiration.”
Following M. Quillard came M. Jean Jaurès, a Socialist member of the chamber of deputies, whose deposition follows:
“I was present at the public portion of the Esterhazy trial, and it is because of that that I come to this bar to declare, not only the complete good faith of M. Zola, but the high moral and social value of his act. I consider that the conduct of the Esterhazy trial justifies M. Zola’s most vehement indignation. It justifies also the anxieties of those who, profoundly respectful of the national honor, do not wish the military power to rise superior to all control and all law. I add that the weaknesses shown by parliament and the government from the beginning of this affair have obliged citizens to intervene, and, by their defence of liberty and right, make up for the delinquencies of the responsible powers. In the Esterhazy case three decisive facts have especially struck me.
“In the first place, why were closed doors ordered for the hearing of the handwriting-experts? Here was involved the essential feature of the accusation. M. Esterhazy was accused of having written thebordereau. Why, then, was itnecessary to discuss in the mystery and secrecy of closed doors the experts’ testimony, which was to settle this question? Closed doors which withdraw the discussion from publicity, from the control of opinion so useful, not only to the accused, but to his judges,—closed doors can be justified only by superior reasons of national interest, and it is impossible to pretend that there was any national interest whatever in concealing from the country the expert testimony relative to the authorship of thebordereau. The simple reason for the closing of the doors was the existence of an interest, which was not that of justice, in concealing the contradictions between the conclusions of the experts who testified at the trial of 1894 and the expert conclusions presented in the Esterhazy trial. But there were not only these contradictions to veil; there were other facts pointing to M. Esterhazy’s authorship of thebordereauwhich it was of importance to examine publicly. For my part, I know, and can bring to this bar positive testimony, that Major Esterhazy had made singularly disturbing declarations regarding thebordereau. I know it, and I can appeal here to the testimony of one of our honestconfrèreswho will not contradict me; and I am determined, neglecting all the secondary proprieties which are not to be considered in this case, to go straight to the truth, because I consider that it is the first duty of every citizen, in this case in which obscurities have been heaped up without limit, to bring every particle of truth in his possession, that from all these particles the definitive truth may later be established. Well, this is what I heard M. Papillaud, an editor of ‘La Libre Parole,’ say twice. He made this declaration to me once as we were leaving the senate together after the interpellation made by M. Scheurer-Kestner. He made it again publicly in presence of a group that was forming in the Salle des Pas-Perdus of the chamber, which is open to all comers, and where all remarks are public. Well, M. Papillaud said to me, and to many other persons, this:
“‘I believe profoundly in the guilt of Dreyfus. I believe it, because it seems to me impossible that French officers, having to judge another French officer, should have condemned him in the absence of overwhelming evidence. I believe it, because the power of the Jews, very great four years ago, as it is today, would have torn Dreyfus from the hands of justice, if there had been in his favor the slightest possibility of salvation. Thebordereau, moreover, is but an accessory element in the case; but, so far as thebordereauis concerned, it is my absolute conviction that it is the work of Esterhazy, and this is why I think so. In the two days that followed M. Mathieu Dreyfus’s letters of denunciation, M. Esterhazy, who did not seem to have recovered his self-possession completely, went often to the editorial rooms. He came to the editorial rooms of “La Libre Parole,” and there, in the presence of my comrades and myself, he said: “Yes, there is between the handwriting of thebordereauand my own a frightful resemblance, and when ‘Le Matin’ published thefac-simile, I felt that I was lost.”’
“I point out to the jurors that thefac-similewas published fifteen months, I believe, before the letter of accusation, at a time when the name of Esterhazy had not been mentioned in connection with this matter, and I leave them to judge of the moral gravity of such a remark. The result, if not the object, of hearing the expert testimony behind closed doors was the concealment of all these indications.
“The second point that struck me was the attitude toward Lieutenant-Colonel Picquart. The most violent charges were made against him. He was accused of forgeries and of all sorts of base and guilty manœuvres, and the accusations were public. The report that embodied charges against him was read publicly, and, when the time came for Lieutenant-Colonel Picquart to defend himself, those who reproach M. Zola with assailing the honor of the army deprived this officer, thus publicly accused, of the opportunity of a public defence. I say that this is a serious matter. Here, before the jury, before this audience, all the charges against Colonel Picquart have been produced, and I shall be careful—for I have not the right, and it is not my affair—not to say a word concerning the substance of these charges. But, though he was accused in the presence of the country, in the presence of the jurors, who are the legal conscience of the country, he was allowed also to defend himself in the presence of the country and in the presence of the jurors. I ask the jurors who heard the charges of General de Pellieux against Colonel Picquart what they would have thought, if, after having given General de Pellieux the floor to crush Colonel Picquart, they had refused Colonel Picquart the right to defend himself publicly? Well, gentlemen, it was that that happened in the Esterhazy trial. Let them not plead again the necessity of the national defence, of national secrecy, since here, without ever compromising the national defence, and without the escape of a single terriblesecret, Colonel Picquart has been allowed to defend himself publicly, as he was publicly attacked. It is precisely this outrageous contrast between the publicity of an attack upon a man and the closed doors ordered during his defence that has caused consciences to revolt,—I speak not only of my own, but of those of many independent men who are not in public life, professors, my school-comrades, men who have been absorbed throughout their lives in disinterested investigations,—and that has determined them in great numbers to throw off their reserve and their neutrality, and go down into the streets in defence of the right. Well, M. Zola felt as others felt, and no more than others have felt, the natural and legitimate indignation which such methods excite.
“But, gentlemen, there was a third very disturbing fact in the Esterhazy case,—namely, the absence of any serious investigation regarding the history of the veiled lady and the method by which the secret document was conveyed to M. Esterhazy. Really, we must be strangelyblaséregarding certain things, or else arrogant affirmations must have the power of entirely destroying our critical and thoughtful disposition, if this fact does not agitate and trouble us. There is a secret document. This document concerns the national defence. It has, it seems, an international value. It might plunge our country into diplomatic difficulties. It is locked in the securest manner in the most secret and the most carefully guarded closet of the most remote sanctuary of the staff. And yet a photograph of this secret document is conveyed by melodramatic processes, through a mysterious woman, who transmits it to an officer previously notified, and the military authority, guardian of the national secrecy, guardian of the security of the country,—the military authority does not even outline the beginning of an investigation into the movements of this document. Really, it is singular. And why has it not done so? Why? Because the investigation would surely have shown that this photograph of the secret document could not have been transmitted to M. Esterhazy except by design of the staff, and for two decisive reasons. The first is that, if the staff had not known that this document was communicated to Major Esterhazy by the staff itself; if there had not been an evident connivance on the part of the general staff and of Major Esterhazy,—then, when Major Esterhazy, responsible officer of military discipline, presented himself at the war department to return a secret document without explaining how it came into his possession, the first care and the first duty ofthe general staff would have been to arrest Major Esterhazy. The second reason is that this document, I beg the jurors to remember, could have had no interest for Esterhazy, unless he knew that it came from the staff. In fact, of what was he accused? He was accused of having written thebordereau. Now, how could the possession of a document containing these words: ‘That scoundrel D——,’ help Esterhazy to show that he did not write thebordereau? This secret document, thus passed to Esterhazy, could not have been useful to him because of its contents. It could have been useful to him only because of the source whence it came to him. It could have been useful to him only as informing him that the staff was watching over him, that the staff was determined not to call the matter in question, that the staff was arranging a new plan of campaign, that it would not allow itself to be beaten, and that he, Esterhazy, protected by his chiefs, should rest easy, should not lose foot or head, should not be disturbed, should not make any confession. Such was the only possible interest of the document communicated to Esterhazy. It was not a cartridge that the staff sent him, but a cordial on the eve of battle,—on the eve, that is, of the trial.
“Thus it appears throughout the Esterhazy trial, in the closed doors for the hearing of the expert testimony, in the strangulation behind closed doors practised upon Colonel Picquart, in the absence of all investigation as to the conveyance of the secret document,—it appears everywhere that the trial was conducted, not with a view to truth and justice, but for the systematic justification of the military chiefs. And then, gentlemen of the jury, the country has the more right to be agitated and indignant, because they make use of the noblest words to mislead it. There are no words more beautiful, more grand, more sacred, than those of country, national defence, national honor. But it is precisely because these words are the holiest and the grandest known to the tongues of men that they have no right to profane them and to prostitute them in covering up tricks of procedure. No, no! This profanation of the country was enough to stir up all French souls and all upright consciences.
“And now why have citizens like Zola, and many others with him, thrown themselves into the battle, uttering this cry of their emotion and their conscience? Because the responsible powers, consecrated to intrigue and to impotence, did not act, did not come to the front. Was it not the firstduty of the legislators and the governors, from the hour that the report was spread that a secret document had been communicated to the judges in a criminal trial without being communicated to the accused and to his counsel,—was it not the first duty of the legislators and the governors to find out whether this violation of republican law and of human rights had been committed? And why did they not do it? On this point we have endeavored to obtain from the responsible government the declarations that it owed to the country. This violation of law and of right has been alluded to from the tribune of the senate. I have ventured to put the question from the tribune of the chamber, squarely asking the prime minister: ‘Yes or no, has a document of interest to an accused person, capable of establishing or confirming his guilt,—yes or no, has such a document been communicated to the judges without being communicated to the accused and to his counsel?’ and I have been able to obtain no precise reply.
“They always take refuge in that equivocation, the legal truth. Oh! yes, it is legal truth that a man is guilty when he has been legally condemned, and it is also legal truth, it seems, that this man is guilty and has been legally judged when his appeal for revision has been rejected. But that does not tell us whether the communication of a secret document, outside of all legal guarantees,—a communication unknown at the time of the appeal for revision,—has been made or not. And to this question, put by the responsible representatives of the country to the responsible government, why have they steadily refused to make a clear reply? I am mistaken. M. Méline, the prime minister, has answered me: ‘I cannot reply without serving your designs.’ It seems that in the country of the Declaration of the Rights of Man it is a design to affirm that a person may not be judged on the strength of secret documents. But he said to me (and his words are in ‘L’Officiel’): ‘You shall be answered elsewhere.’ Elsewhere! I thought that it would be in the assize court; and it is true that here, by surprise as it were, the truth has finally come to light. But I do not know that any of the responsible representatives of power have come here any more than to parliament to answer the question that the country has a right to put, and it is really prodigious that a country which believes itself free cannot know whether the law has been respected, either in the palace where the law is made, or in the palace where it is enforced.
“Everybody foresaw this violation. There were not four deputies in the chamber who doubted it; why do they not speak of it, and why do they not act? The other day, when I put this decisive question very simply, I was sustained by a little group of friends,—fifteen or twenty,—but in the chamber as a whole there was a passive silence. Yet, when I descended from the tribune into the lobbies, where the parliamentary soul recovers its elasticity and its liberty, deputies without number, of all groups and of all parties, said to me: ‘You are right, but what a pity that this matter was brought up a few months before the election!’ Well, I believe that they are mistaken. I believe that, in spite of all the passing fogs, in spite of all the insults and all the threats,—I believe that this country is yet to have the light and truth. But, if the truth is to be vanquished, it is better to be vanquished with it, than to become an accomplice in all these equivocations and humiliations.
“But, gentlemen, there has been not simply a violation of the law. This violation has taken place in particularly aggravating circumstances. Not only has a minister of war communicated a secret document under illegal conditions, but he has not even taken what I will call human precautions against error. He has not even consulted the cabinet.
“I have heard M. Charles Dupuy, I have heard M. Delcassé,—and here I violate the professional secret of others,—I have heard these gentlemen, who were then a part of the cabinet to which General Mercier belonged, declare that there was no mention in the cabinet of any secret document except thebordereau; that there was no allusion to the other secret documents of which there has been talk since. Well, gentlemen of the jury, this shows not only that the communication was illegal, but that a single man, without official consultation with his friends, took it upon himself to throw into the scales of the trial a document whose value he alone had dared to measure. I say that this man, in spite of the brilliancy of his service and of his stripes, in spite of the arrogance of power, is a man,—that is, a miserable and fragile being, made of darkness and of pride, of weakness and of error; and I do not understand how it is that in this country of law a single man has ventured to assume, upon his single conscience, upon his single reason, upon his single head, to decide upon the life, liberty, and honor of another man. And I say that, if such customs and such habits were to be tolerated in our country, there would be an end to liberty and justice.
“And that is why citizens like M. Zola have done right in rising to protest. While the government, imprisoned in its own devices, intrigued or equivocated; while parliamentary parties, imprisoned in their own fears, kept silence or abdicated; while military justice set up the arbitraryrégimeof closed doors,—citizens rose in their pride, in their liberty, in their independence, to protest against the violation of right, and thereby have done the greatest service to our country that they possibly could do.
“Oh! I know very well that M. Zola must suffer for this noble service, and I know also why certain men hate and pursue him. They pursue in him the man who has maintained the rational and scientific interpretation of the miracle; they pursue in him the man who has predicted in ‘Germinal’ the flowering of a new humanity, the springing-up of the wretchedprolétariatfrom the depths of suffering to the sunlight; they pursue in him the man who has just torn the staff from that baneful and arrogant irresponsibility in which unconsciously the way is paved for all the disasters of the country. They may pursue him and hunt him down, but I believe that I express the feeling of all free citizens in saying that before him we respectfully bow.”
At the conclusion of the testimony of M. Jaurès the defence offered two motions: first, that the court record its acknowledgment of the fact that, Colonel Picquart having been called a liar by Lieutenant-Colonel Henry, neither the presiding judge or the attorney-general intervened to suppress the insult; second, that, General de Pellieux having declared that there was little or no resemblance between thebordereauandfac-simile, the court order the production of the original of thebordereau. The first motion was granted, but the court refused to order the production of thebordereau.
The testimony of the experts being now in order, M. Bertillon took the witness-stand.
“I am absolutely sure,” he testified, “that Dreyfus wrote thebordereau. I am absolutely sure that it is impossible that any other person could have written it. There may be a revision followed by an acquittal, but I swear most absolutely that it can not be proved that any other person than the individual originally condemned unites within himself the calligraphic characteristics that thisbordereauexhibits.It could have been written only at the house of the condemned man.”
M. Labori.—“This is very interesting. We pretend to prove that thebordereauis the work of Major Esterhazy.”
M. Zola.—“Absolutely.”
M. Labori.—“M. Bertillon tells us that there is only one man who can have written it. Well, if he succeeds in proving that, it will have to be admitted that the defence finds itself in a very embarrassing situation. So I ask M. Bertillon to tell us why thebordereaucan not be the work of Major Esterhazy, but is necessarily the work of another.”
The Judge.—“Have you Major Esterhazy’s handwriting?”
M. Bertillon.—“No, I have proofs that are not exactly calligraphic proofs. I have no confidence in expert opinion in the matter of handwriting. I believe that it is good for something as an eliminating process, but that beyond that it is necessary to make atabula rasa. But I have convincing proofs; they are not simply proofs that put one on the scent; they constitute a demonstration that thebordereauwas written by the man originally condemned.”
The Judge.—“And that it could not have been written by anybody else?”
M. Bertillon.—“No. Thebordereau, whatever they may say, is not in a running hand. It follows a geometric rhythm, the equation of which was found in the blotting-pad of the man originally condemned, and with this blotting-pad it is possible to re-establish his handwriting. I will do it, if it is desired.”
M. Labori.—“That is precisely what we ask. It is very important. It is absolutely necessary that the witness who now addresses us should make the requisite demonstration, and that is the point at which I was coming. We have a blackboard here. If M. Bertillon wishes to make use of it, it is at his disposition.”
M. Bertillon.—“Produce the documents that were seized at the house of the condemned man, and I will make my demonstration. But let me add, that you may not take me for a trifler, that this demonstration is long and difficult. Nevertheless the practice is easy. Some day I will explain myself on this subject. I can reconstitute thebordereaufor you out of independent elements. But you must give me these elements; I cannot speak in the dark.”
M. Labori.—“Well, M. Bertillon, we will do all that we possibly can for you. I promise you that, if we do not get these elements, it will not be my fault. WillMonsieur lePrésidentask M. Bertillon if he recognizes this little paper, which I pass first to the court?”
The Judge [stupefied].—“What is this?”
M. Labori—“That is a plan drawn by M. Bertillon in his expert testimony. I should like to know if he recognizes it. Notice of its production was made to the attorney-general, and the plan has been published in ‘L’Aurore’.”
M. BERTILLON’S PLAN OF EXPERT PROOF.
M. BERTILLON’S PLAN OF EXPERT PROOF.
M. BERTILLON’S PLAN OF EXPERT PROOF.
M. Bertillon.—“That is not at all the plan of my deposition; it is a scheme for a special point in my deposition. Ido not deny it at all; I accept it; only I am astonished that you have not reproduced it entire, because there was a very important point that is not indicated in it, and that should have been indicated,—namely, the matter of the blotting-pad.”
M. Labori.—“M. Bertillon will make the necessary correction.”
M. Bertillon.—“Yes, if you will give me the documents to which I have referred.”
M. Labori.—“Did you mention these documents in your written expert testimony?”
M. Bertillon.—“I furnished no written expert testimony.”
The Judge.—“First of all, M. Bertillon, will you tell us what this plan is?”
M. Bertillon.—“The significance of this plan in this case is sufficiently great, in that it is a material proof that the experts in the first trial were of the same opinion as those of the second. But I am absolutely determined to say nothing, unless the documents are produced,—as well those that were taken from the blotting-pad as those that were seized in the war department. I am perfectly willing to make my demonstration public, but I ask that the court put me in a position to do so by furnishing the documents. Then I will make the demonstration. But I warn you that it will be rather long. Perhaps it would take two sessions.”
M. Labori.—“What are these documents?”
M. Bertillon.—“Oh! I do not know their titles. There was a note of this, a note of that, etc.”
The Judge.—“Can you not sum up what you said in your report?”
M. Bertillon.—“I made no written report. The documents seized at the war department are various notes concerning the service, writings on various questions. The documents taken from the blotting-pad are letters from M. Mathieu Dreyfus, one concerning hunting rifles, and the other concerning an issue of bonds. But their substance is immaterial. Yet these documents must be seen in order to be discussed and analyzed. I cannot go farther.”
M. Labori.—“Did you not once receive a visit from M. Picquart?”
M. Bertillon.—“Yes, on May 16, 1896. He brought me a little photograph of a few lines of handwriting, an extremely poor photograph, with words traced in every direction, and asked me my opinion of the writing; Before even looking at the paper, I suspected that it concerned the Dreyfus matter,for, if it had been a matter of expert testimony in some new case, Colonel Picquart would have had to act through my superior, the prefect of police. Laying the paper on the table, I said to him: ‘Is this the Dreyfus case again?’ He answered: ‘I should like to know your opinion.’ I looked at the writing, and, after a single glance, said to him: ‘That singularly resembles the writing of thebordereauor the writing of Mathieu Dreyfus. It relates to that case.’ Then he said: ‘No, it does not relate to that case. Study it, and talk with me about it afterwards. Be good enough to come to the war office tomorrow to bring me the original.’ I did what Colonel Picquart asked. I had the document photographed, and then I paid no further attention to it. I had a handwriting that resembled that of thebordereau. Now, I have absolute proof that thebordereaumust have been written by the condemned man. Of what consequence is it to me that there are other hand writings like it. Though there were a hundred officers in the war department who had this handwriting, it would be all one to me, for to me it is a settled matter.”
M. Labori.—“M. Bertillon will do a service to everybody, and especially to the defence, by explaining as far as possible his methods of investigation.”
M. Bertillon.—“I am absolutely determined to say nothing until the documents are produced.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Perhaps there is a way of arranging this. The witness said just now, speaking of two or three documents, that they were letters from Mathieu Dreyfus. Is it necessary to have the same letters? Could not M. Bertillon explain his theory with other letters from Mathieu Dreyfus?”
M. Bertillon.—“Oh! not at all.”
M. Labori.—“M. Bertillon has just told us that he has no confidence in expert testimony in the matter of handwriting. Surely the witness must be able to explain to us how the document of which he speaks can have such importance in his mind. I will ask him, then, to point out in his little plan the spot where this document is to be found. I will ask M. Bertillon where we must look for the document from the blotting-pad. Where is it? In the arsenal, in the citadel, at the butts, or in the trench?”
M. Bertillon.—“It seems to me that this matter is too serious for joking.”
M. Clemenceau.—“What! you think that the reading of your paper constitutes a joke?”
M. Labori.—“I simply ask where this document is to be placed in this plan.”
M. Bertillon.—“Produce the document, and I will tell you.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Will M. Bertillon give the court a list of the documents that he needs? We will try to get them, and then we shall see if M. Bertillon can make his demonstration. Do you remember what the documents are?”
M. Bertillon.—“They were numbered from 1 to 30, including three or four letters from Mathieu Dreyfus and various notes regarding the service.”
M. Labori.—“Is it for their writing that M. Bertillon needs these documents?”
M. Bertillon.—“To answer that would be to enter into the substance of my demonstration. I have told you that I will give it entire or not at all. If some day I make this demonstration, you will see that I needed the documents to make it intelligible.”
The Judge.—“This is a matter of judicial identity. Do you contend that your demonstration is absolutely certain?”
M. Bertillon.—“I consider it superior in certainty to identification by anthropometric measurements. But I cannot go into such a matter off-hand and under such circumstances.”
M. Labori.—“Well, if the witness needs time for preparation, we will adjourn until Monday.”
The proposition was accepted, and the court adjourned.
The proceedings of the seventh day began with the reading by the court of a letter from M. Le Provost de Launay, a member of the senate, and of a dispatch from M. Papillaud. The letter read as follows:
I have read the testimony of M. Jaurès. He must be mistaken, for M. Papillaud, whom I saw the day before he met Major Esterhazy, and whom I saw again the day after, said to me a very different thing. I am ready to testify to it.
I have read the testimony of M. Jaurès. He must be mistaken, for M. Papillaud, whom I saw the day before he met Major Esterhazy, and whom I saw again the day after, said to me a very different thing. I am ready to testify to it.
Following is M. Papillaud’s dispatch:
Beaulieu (Alpes-Maritimes).In convalescence here, I read deposition of Jaurès. Have already contradicted in “Libre Parole.” Beg you,Monsieur le Président, to excuse my absence, and read to the jury the following declaration: Never did I make the remarks reported by Jaurès. Never did I hear Esterhazy use such language. Once Esterhazy said in my presence: “They thought me ruined because of the resemblance in handwritings. If there is a resemblance, I shall prove that Dreyfus has imitated mywriting.” I saw Esterhazy seven times. Never did I hear him say anything other than that. Therefore I protest against the Jaurès account, which is a veritable falsehood, the more blameworthy because I, being sick here, cannot appear before the court. Therefore I count on you,Monsieur le Président, to establish the truth, and beg you to accept the assurance of my distinguished sentiments.
Beaulieu (Alpes-Maritimes).
In convalescence here, I read deposition of Jaurès. Have already contradicted in “Libre Parole.” Beg you,Monsieur le Président, to excuse my absence, and read to the jury the following declaration: Never did I make the remarks reported by Jaurès. Never did I hear Esterhazy use such language. Once Esterhazy said in my presence: “They thought me ruined because of the resemblance in handwritings. If there is a resemblance, I shall prove that Dreyfus has imitated mywriting.” I saw Esterhazy seven times. Never did I hear him say anything other than that. Therefore I protest against the Jaurès account, which is a veritable falsehood, the more blameworthy because I, being sick here, cannot appear before the court. Therefore I count on you,Monsieur le Président, to establish the truth, and beg you to accept the assurance of my distinguished sentiments.
M. Labori.—“Monsieur le Président, we do not complain at all at the introduction of these documents into the trial. Only I permit myself to point out that no notice of them has been given, and we shall ask the same right for documents emanating from us.”
The Judge.—“These are not documents of the trial.”
M. Labori.—“If, in the course of the trial, we receive documents of a similar character, we shall ask the court to read them.”
The Judge.—“I have read these by virtue of my discretionary power.”
M. Labori.—“Monsieur le Président, it is to your discretionary power that we shall appeal.”
M. Jaurès.—“Monsieur le Président, I regret more than anyone that the health of M. Papillaud does not permit him to be here, for I am sure that, before the clearness of my declaration and the precision of my recollections, he would not be able to maintain his denial for a moment. I declare once more, under oath, that M. Papillaud twice said to me that he had heard M. Esterhazy say to him, when ‘Le Matin’ published thefac-simileof thebordereau: ‘I felt that I was ruined.’ I give the circumstances in detail. Once he said it as we were leaving the senate, after M. Scheurer-Kestner had made his interpellation. We had met at the foot of the grand staircase, and we were talking of the result of the session. We agreed that, in spite of appearances, M. Scheurer-Kestner had obtained an important result in securing the admission of thebordereauas evidence in the investigation. That was the starting-point of a conversation concerning thebordereau, in the course of which M. Papillaud said to me: ‘If it were only a matter of thebordereau, the thing would be soon settled, for I am convinced that thebordereauis the work of Esterhazy. I know that by the agitation that he showed when, at a time when his name had never been uttered in connection with the affair, he said, on seeing thefac-similein ‘Le Matin,’ that he felt that he was ruined.’ Another time, in the Salle des Pas-Perdus of the chamber, I approached M. Papillaud, who was standing in a group of journalists, and said to him: ‘How can you still march behind this man after the publicationof the letters in “Le Figaro?”’ He answered: ‘We can the less march behind him because, when he came to the office of “La Libre Parole,” he showed a singular agitation in consequence of seeing thebordereauin “Le Matin.” He felt that he was lost. From that moment I, who was, and am still, convinced of the guilt of Dreyfus, said to my friends in the office of “La Libre Parole:” “At any rate we will not march behind Esterhazy.”’ These, gentlemen, are precise affirmations, and, since I was not present just now when M. Papillaud’s telegram was read, I may be permitted to point out to the jurors the singular conditions under which this contradiction was obtained. To facilitate M. Papillaud in his contradiction, an inexact version of my testimony was telegraphed to him. ‘La Libre Parole’ reproduces this morning the telegram that was sent to M. Papillaud, which says that I declared that M. Esterhazy said to M. Papillaud: ‘I feel myself ruined.’ That is not what I said. I repeated exactly a much more serious remark,—namely, that fifteen months before, on seeing thefac-simileof thebordereau, Esterhazy felt himself ruined. I am astonished that this disavowal could have been obtained from M. Papillaud, unless they distorted the meaning and text of my words, and my astonishment is the greater since all the newspapers, with the exception of ‘La Libre Parole,’ have printed my deposition exactly. And it is surprising that that paper, which is directly interested in the incident, is the only one that has not reproduced it exactly. But I understand the interest that they have in denying the remark. It is twofold. In the first place, it is extremely serious in itself, as a moral indication of M. Esterhazy’s state of mind fifteen months ago, and, secondly, it demonstrates, contrary to the allegation of General de Pellieux, that between thefac-simileof thebordereauand thebordereauitself there is not the difference that he has proclaimed, and the proof is that M. Esterhazy, before the council of war, where I was present, recognized a striking resemblance between his own handwriting and that of thebordereau, having previously recognized the same resemblance between his own handwriting and that offac-simile. Therefore there is no difference between thefac-simileand thebordereau.”
The judge then reread the telegram from M. Papillaud, and M. Jaurès added:
“I reassert most absolutely the declarations made in my deposition. I add that in controversies between friends—forthe most intimate friends have been divided for many weeks past—many have not agreed with me as to the case of M. Esterhazy and the conduct of the trial. And to these I have often made use, especially in discussion with my friends of ‘La Dépêche,’ of the statements made by M. Papillaud.”
M. Labori.—“Gentlemen of the jury, ‘La Libre Parole’ of this morning publishes under the heading, ‘The Defender of Zola,’ the following note, the meaning of which it is impossible for me to misunderstand.
One of our readers asks us if we know a member of the Paris bar, of German origin, naturalized as a Frenchman, who married an English Jewess, and whose father, still a German, is now a railroad inspector on the other side of the Rhine. Is this question aimed at M. Labori, the theatrical defender of Zola? At any rate it is certain that, like all who are engaged immediately or remotely in the anti-French conspiracy, M. Labori has foreign attachments. He married a young woman named Ockey, a Protestant by origin, after her divorce from M. Pachmann, a German, if I am not mistaken, by whom she has children, whom their father visits in their new family. I give this information to show that M. Labori has been under influence not precisely nationalistic, though I take good care not to follow his example in bringing into the matter women who have nothing to do with it.
One of our readers asks us if we know a member of the Paris bar, of German origin, naturalized as a Frenchman, who married an English Jewess, and whose father, still a German, is now a railroad inspector on the other side of the Rhine. Is this question aimed at M. Labori, the theatrical defender of Zola? At any rate it is certain that, like all who are engaged immediately or remotely in the anti-French conspiracy, M. Labori has foreign attachments. He married a young woman named Ockey, a Protestant by origin, after her divorce from M. Pachmann, a German, if I am not mistaken, by whom she has children, whom their father visits in their new family. I give this information to show that M. Labori has been under influence not precisely nationalistic, though I take good care not to follow his example in bringing into the matter women who have nothing to do with it.
“Gentlemen of the jury, upon this note I shall make no comment. I answer with facts, and, as I am determined to let nothing stop me in the task that I have undertaken, and as I expect other attacks to be made, I declare that I answer once for all. This is my reply: I am not naturalized. I was born at Reims, of a French father. My wife is not an Israelite. M. Pachmann so seldom makes visits at my house that I have not the honor of his personal acquaintance. He is not a German; he is a Russian. He was born at Odessa; his father was a professor in the Odessa University; his brother is now a Russian senator at St. Petersburg. My father was an Alsatian. For forty-five years he has been in the service of the Eastern Railway Company. In that capacity he was in the campaign of 1870, during which he was entrusted, at the camp of Châlons, with the embarkation of the French troops. In 1871 he was delighted to receive, at the Reims railway station, from the hands of the Prussians, the service of the French railways. It was in that period of his life, perhaps, that he was called upon for the greatest proof of his patriotism. Since 1871 he has been entrusted, in unison with the military commissions, with the organization of the national defence over the line of railway with which he is connected. Seven years ago, in January, 1891, if I am not mistaken, my father was decorated with the order of the legion of honor, at the request and by themediation of the fourth bureau of the staff of the minister of war, and it was General de Boisdeffre who announced his decoration to him, with the congratulations that he thought it his duty to add. Such, gentlemen of the jury, is my reply. I simply ask you to judge from this incident of the value of certain attacks and certain assertions.”
After these incidents the witness-stand was again taken by M. Bertillon, who declared, in answer to a question, that he had not succeeded in obtaining from the war department the documents of which he had spoken on Saturday.
M. Clemenceau.—“Under what conditions did M. Bertillon ask for them, and under what conditions were they refused?”
M. Bertillon.—“I remain on the ground of my previous deposition.”
The Judge.—“M. Clemenceau asks you how you asked for these documents, and how they were refused.”
M. Bertillon.—“The war department paid eight hundred francs for these documents. I turned that sum into the municipal treasury, considering that these documents had been made with the products of my laboratory. They remain the property of the war department; I have them temporarily in my possession. Really, I ought to have deposited them with the clerk of the war department. I am only a witness; it is not my duty to execute commissions.”
M. Clemenceau.—“M. Bertillon told us day before yesterday that he could not produce the documents without the authorization of his superiors,—the prefect of police and the minister of war. It was an important point, for the minister of war is the complainant in this case. Then the court said to him: ‘Will you ask your superiors for authority to bring these pieces, and answer here on Monday?’ Today M. Bertillon tells us that he has not obtained them. I ask him to tell us under what conditions he asked for them, and under what conditions they were refused.”
M. Bertillon.—“I have answered that question.”
M. Clemenceau.—“M. Bertillon must have gone to the war department and said something to somebody, who must have made him some answer.”
M. Bertillon.—“I believe that I have explained sufficiently that in my relations with the war department I have acted in my individual capacity.”
M. Clemenceau.—“You do not answer my question.”
The Judge.—“You are asked what steps you have taken to obtain the documents.”
M. Bertillon.—“I have reflected upon the situation, and have realized that these plates are the property of the minister of war.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Then, contrary to what the witness just said, he has not been forbidden to produce these documents.”
M. Bertillon.—“I have been forbidden nothing at all.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Then the witness has seen nobody?”
M. Bertillon.—“I have seen nobody. I have consulted the situation.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Then the witness, instead of consulting the prefect of police and the minister of war, has consulted the situation?”
M. Bertillon.—“I said that I would refer the matter to my superiors. But a moment’s reflection showed me that I was in error. I have not to refer to my superiors facts that concern me personally, especially when I am acting as a witness.”
M. Labori [passing a copy of M. Bertillon’s scheme to the witness, and another copy to the court]—“Will you ask M. Bertillon if this is an exact representation of the bastions, intrenchments, and lines of battle which he presented to the council of war after his expert testimony?”
The Judge.—“M. Labori, will you explain to us what this document is?”
M. Labori.—“I handed this little work to M. Bertillon at the last session.”
The Judge.—“But will you explain to us, M. Labori, of what it consists?”
M. Labori.—“That is the explanation which I am trying to get at.”
M. Bertillon.—“What is the question?”
M. Labori.—“I ask if this little work really emanates from M. Bertillon.”
M. Bertillon.—“It refers to my deposition of 1894 in the Dreyfus case.”
M. Clemenceau.—“What conclusion does the witness draw from it?”
M. Bertillon.—“I recognize that I was wrong Saturday in allowing myself to be dragged upon this ground. But I will add one word to settle the question,—namely, that the point to which I called attention is still missing. But I am fully determined, from this on, to take shelter behind the court’s decree forbidding any mention of the Dreyfus case.”
M. Labori.—“And I am determined, as counsel, to demandthat the decree of the court shall be observed completely, or not at all. I affirm that this is an exact copy of the document of which M. Bertillon made use in 1894. In vain will he affirm the contrary.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Was it from his consultation of the situation yesterday that he got the idea of sheltering himself behind the court’s decree? M. Bertillon has seen neither the minister of war or the prefect of police. He tells us that he has consulted the situation. We ask how this situation led him to refuse to speak today of the things of which he spoke day before yesterday.”
M. Bertillon.—“The counsel will understand that, in my personal situation, after having been concerned in the serious matter of 1894, I feel from time to time internal ebullitions,—that my situation is painful and tormenting.”
M. Clemenceau.—“The witness tells us that his situation is tormenting. He means that he is an official, and that, as such, there are things that embarrass him.”
M. Bertillon.—“That is not it at all.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Then I ask an explanation of the word ‘tormenting.’ This word is now in the trial, and I hold to it. It must be explained, for it is a very pregnant matter.”
The Judge.—“Let us say that the witness will not speak.”
M. Bertillon.—“I burn with only one thing—to make known my deposition. But there are a thousand obstacles in the way. I am tormented every day by a thousand plots. Then from time to time the dike bursts,sapristi!”
The Judge.—“You see that the witness will not speak. Come, M. Bertillon, have you photographs of the letters which served you for comparison?”
M. Bertillon.—“In which case?”
The Judge.—“In the first, since you have declared that you had nothing to do with the second.”
M. Bertillon.—“In the case of ex-Captain Dreyfus? I thought that this case was not to be treated here.”
The Judge.—“It is not a question of treating it. You are asked if you have documents.”
M. Bertillon.—“That is to speak of that case.”
M. Labori.—“How does it happen that the witness perceives the obligation to be silent concerning the Dreyfus case only in the court-room, and that we find in the newspapers detailed interviews with him regarding the matter?”
M. Bertillon.—“As regards interviews relating to the Dreyfus case, you will not find many from me. I have received many reporters, and have dismissed as many.”
M. Labori then read an interview from “L’Echo de Paris.”
M. Bertillon.—“For every word, an inaccuracy; but to rectify them it would be necessary to go into the case of 1894. That I will not do.”
M. Labori.—“Very well; then will M. Bertillon prove to us, by the interesting methods that are peculiar to him, not that thebordereauis the work of Dreyfus, because the court will stop him, but that it is not the work of Esterhazy?”
The Judge.—“You hear the question. Under these conditions I can put it to you. On your soul and conscience, is it possible that thisbordereaucame from the hand of Major Esterhazy?”
M. Bertillon.—“It is impossible.”
M. Labori.—“The experts are not yet oracles, and we ask them for explanations.”
The Judge.—“Wait, I have not asked why.”
M. Labori.—“I have been waiting a long time.”
The Judge.—“Witness, what makes you think that thebordereauis not the work of Major Esterhazy?”
M. Bertillon.—“Because it is the work of another.”
M. Clemenceau.—“And what makes him think that it is the work of another?”
M. Bertillon.—“Now we are falling back upon my depositions of Saturday. This will never end.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Since the affair of 1894, has not the witness made a demonstration to strangers or to friends, I do not say of the guilt of Dreyfus, but of his system?”
The Judge.—“Have you made a demonstration of your system? What is the system which you have employed to arrive at the result of which you have just told us?”
M. Bertillon.—“You are asking me for a theoretical course in the expert examination of handwriting. I published two articles on that subject a few weeks ago in ‘La Revue Scientifique.’”
M. Labori.—“We have read them, but I do not find there what I ask. On the contrary, I find there a demolition of expert examinations of handwriting, leaving nothing of them.”
M. Bertillon.—“At the end of the article I say that only material proofs can lead to the truth in matters of this kind. These material proofs are in the file of 1894.”
M. Labori.—“No equivocation. I have the honor to be acquainted with the file of 1894, since I am the counsel of Mme. Alfred Dreyfus, the guardian of Dreyfus. I know this file, as well as the expert testimony of M. Bertillon. Itis there. I say nothing more. But there must be no equivocation here, and M. Bertillon must not try to make us believe that he has judged as a judge concerning material proofs touching the substance of the trial. I ask him if the documents that were delivered to him were secret documents concerning the treason, or mere handwritings from which he has drawn conclusions.”
The Judge.—“Will you answer?”
M. Bertillon.—“Of which case is he speaking?”
M. Labori.—“Of the Dreyfus case.”
M. Bertillon.—“I thought that there was a decree of the court forbidding us to speak of that case.”
M. Clemenceau.—“It is not for the witness to tell the court the meaning of its decrees.”
M. Labori.—“I will not insist, because it would take us a month. But could M. Bertillon tell us the difference between dextrogyrate writing and sinistrogyrate writing, and the consequences that he draws therefrom as an expert?”
M. Bertillon.—“I know the theory of that matter, but I did not use it in my expert examination.”
M. Labori.—“Without concerning ourselves with the Dreyfus case, I take the wordsA. Dreyfusand the wordadresse, and I ask him what scientific consequence he can draw from the possible superposition of the words, both of which begin withadr, but the first of which has a period between the A and the D. Will the witness explain to us by what method these two writings can be compared?”
M. Bertillon.—“This question relates to my deposition of 1894, and, moreover, is of no importance.”
M. Labori.—“Will the witness tell us if thebordereauis written in a running hand?”
M. Bertillon.—“It is absolutely impossible for me to answer that question without entering into my deposition of 1894.”
M. Labori.—“Permit me,Monsieur le Président, I have not to occupy myself with M. Bertillon’s demonstration of 1894. That did not place an eternal gag in his mouth. I know but one thing. We have a witness here,—I may say an official witness; he is bound to testify, and I ask him a question of the first importance. It does not concern the Dreyfus case, which for the moment I forget. I speak of the Esterhazybordereau. I know why the witness cannot answer, and I will give the reason in my summing-up. But my question is: Is the writing of thebordereauin a running hand, or is it made up of traced words?”
M. Bertillon.—“It is impossible to answer that question without entering into my deposition of 1894. It is neither one or the other. It is in a running hand, and it is not. I will throw light upon all that. I must go to the heart of the question, or say nothing at all.”
M. Labori.—“The jurors desire proofs. I shall furnish them by opposing the three official experts of 1894 to the three official experts of 1898 who passed on the samebordereau, for it is impossible to reconcile their testimony. That is why the witness will not answer. I repeat: Is thebordereau—and here I pay no attention to Dreyfus; call him Tartempion, if you will, but answer me—is thebordereauwritten in a running hand, or is it made up of traced words?”
M. Bertillon.—“It is impossible to answer that in a single word.”
M. Labori.—“We do not ask that you shall answer it in a single word.”
M. Bertillon.—“That is to enter into my deposition of 1894. I cannot do it.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Has the witness seen the Esterhazybordereau?”
M. Bertillon.—“You torment me with questions.”
M. Labori.—“Has the honorable witness seen the thin paper original of thebordereauattributed to Major Esterhazy before the council of war of 1898, which is the same that led to the condemnation of Captain Dreyfus in 1894?”
M. Bertillon.—“I am willing to answer yes.”
M. Clemenceau.—“You are very accommodating.”
M. Labori.—“This is something, at any rate.”
M. Bertillon.—“Perhaps I did wrong to say so.”
M. Labori.—“No, you did not. Did the witness base his expert testimony on the original, or on photographs, or on tracings, or on all three?”
M. Bertillon.—“Now we are going straight into the Dreyfus case. It is evident that I am burning to speak of these questions, concerning which so many errors have been attributed to me.”
M. Labori.—“I beg the court to ask M. Bertillon if the writing of thebordereauis natural or disguised.”
The Judge.—“Can you answer that?”
M. Bertillon.—“Absolutely no, not without entering into my deposition of 1894.”
M. Labori.—“Monsieur le Président, in the Dreyfus case three experts say that it is in a running hand; three saythat it is disguised; three that it was written by Dreyfus, and three that it was written by Esterhazy. If I show this, I do not say that we shall have made progress toward the manifestation of the truth, but we shall have thrown some light on the value of expert testimony, and that is what I am trying to get at. Consequently I ask the witness, in a general way: Is the Esterhazybordereauin a natural handwriting or in a disguised handwriting?”
The witness made no answer.
M. Clemenceau.—“Has not the witness demonstrated his system to friends?”
M. Bertillon.—“I have been the object of a thousand attempts, of a thousand plots, but” ...
M. Clemenceau.—“By a lawyer?”
M. Bertillon.—“I repeat, attempts have been made” ...
M. Clemenceau.—“Yes or no, has he demonstrated the principle of his system to a lawyer of the appellate court of Paris?”
M. Bertillon.—“Certainly not. I have often defended myself against the imputations of Bernard Lazare and company. But the most absurd statements have been attributed to me.”
M. Clemenceau.—“M. Bernard Lazare is not a lawyer of the appellate court of Paris. Has the witness had a twenty minutes’ talk concerning the principle of his system with a certain lawyer of the appellate court of Paris?”
M. Bertillon.—“When you shall make your questions more precise, I will try to remember more precisely. I repeat that it is impossible to speak intelligibly of the Dreyfus case without the documents before us. If you only knew how for the last three years I have been pestered in all ways! They ask me insidious questions. They accuse me of this and of that. How many friends have become cool toward me because of therôleattributed to me in this matter! I assure you that it is not funny. My conscience is at ease, but I have suffered much during the last three years. Now they make me one of the accused. That has nothing to do with the Zola case.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Has the witness had a twenty minutes’ talk with ourconfrèreDecori, a lawyer of the appellate court of Paris, concerning the principle of his system?”
M. Bertillon.—“Oh! it is possible that I have spoken to M. Decori, as to many others, of the Dreyfus case, and of the insults that have been heaped upon me in connection therewith.”
M. Clemenceau.—“Now we will go on to something else. If tomorrow a new traitor were to be discovered in France, and if M. Bertillon were to be asked to demonstrate the guilt of this new traitor by an expert examination similar to that of which we have been speaking, is it probable that M. Bertillon’s system would be applicable to this new traitor and his handwriting?”
M. Bertillon.—“All these questions relate to the Dreyfus case.”
The Judge.—“No, no, this is a general question. It has nothing to do with the Dreyfus case.”
M. Bertillon.—“That is, you transform into an accusation” ...
The Judge.—“You are asked, if a similar case were to come up, whether you would use the same system. That has nothing to do with the Dreyfus case; it is a general question.”
M. Bertillon.—“You always come back to the affair of 1894.”
M. Labori.—“Well, I can say to the jurors only one thing, the accusation of 1894, and there you are! And now I have done with this witness.”
M. Clemenceau.—“I have nothing more to say,Monsieur le Président.”
M. Labori.—“There has been but one charge, thebordereau; and there you see the expert, the principal expert.”
The Judge.—“Then you pretend that, without speaking absolutely of the case of which you have no right to speak, you cannot explain yourself?”
M. Bertillon.—“Absolutely.”
M. Bertillon was succeeded on the witness-stand by M. G. A. Hubbard, representing Seine-et-Oise in the chamber of deputies.
He testified as follows:
“On November 15 my cousin, M. Alphonse Bertillon, came to see me, after having previously made an appointment with me, desiring to inform me concerning certain details of his expert examination of handwriting, and especially concerning thebordereauthat had appeared in ‘Le Matin’ a few days before. I was very willing to listen to what he had to say, especially as he made no secret of the matter, and was trying to plant in me the germ of an opinion on matters under public discussion. He gave me a longexplanation, which you already know in part from his testimony, but which I did not quite comprehend in all its details, of his plan, his scheme, his comparisons of handwriting, which led him very clearly to the opinion that the original of thebordereauwas a tracing from a writing of Dreyfus. He told me that he had had other documents in his hands which had enabled him, by the fitting of margins and other mathematical deductions, to see that this was the only possible conclusion, and he told me that I need not be disturbed by anything that I might hear during the trial. I was left under this impression, and, after that, wherever I found myself, and whenever the matter came up, I made haste to give the opinion that he had given to me and the reasons therefor. When the newspaper published the firstfac-simileof thebordereau, then attributed to M. Esterhazy, I remembered the conversation with my cousin, and applied for myself to the handwriting of Major Esterhazy the observations made to me by my cousin upon thebordereauof which he had brought me the photograph. Immediately it appeared to me that the differences which Bertillon had pointed out to me between thebordereauand the writing of Dreyfus disappeared upon comparison with the writing of Esterhazy.
“I was much agitated; so I went to my cousin, and said to him: ‘You came to me in 1896, at the time of the Castelin interpellation, to tell me that you were sure that thebordereauwas a tracing from a writing of Dreyfus. Yet here is a writing which seems to me to be that of Esterhazy. I beg you, on your soul and conscience, to make once more the application of your system. After having brought me so decided an opinion previously, you cannot now leave me in doubt, in view of the new charge against a certain Esterhazy.’ Straightway my cousin said to me: ‘I don’t want to see the handwriting; I don’t want to see it. I know it. It is Esterhazy’s. I know that Esterhazy is the Jews’ man of straw, and he will finally confess it. Thebordereauis not dated or signed. It would not be a forgery or a swindle, and thus it is hoped to get out of the affair. But I don’t want to see the writing. Besides, there can be, there must be, no revision. A revision would mean civil revolution. The people would go down into the streets. There would be riot. There must be no revision.’
“I answered: ‘That is politics. One may hold that opinion, but it is not scientific criticism; it is not a scientific expert examination based upon a verification of documents.I remember what you told me a year ago. I marked the gravity of your words. You told me, when you came back from the war department with your demonstration, that they would not allow you to testify in a certain way, saying to you: “Your demonstration would tend to the acquittal of Dreyfus.” And now you say that you will not look into the question of handwriting.’ But he still refused to make the comparison, and even added,—I remember that his wife was present at the interview,—‘There are moments when the prefects of police tell you to speak, and there are others when they tell you to be silent.’ I understood that ‘the moments when the prefects of police tell you to speak’ referred to the evening of November, 1896, when he came to me to make his demonstration. I have always been on most friendly terms with my cousin. I have always had the highest esteem for his character, and anything which he could say to me was calculated to carry conviction. But I must say that, as much as I was attached at first to the idea that there was certain proof that the writing of thebordereauwas a tracing from the writing of Dreyfus, I later saw that there was reason to doubt, and that the writing of Esterhazy bore a resemblance to it that could not be attributed simply to chance. The incidents that have occurred since in the chamber and in the senate troubled me much. Then came the partial closed doors of the Esterhazy trial, and the failure to reveal to the public the testimony of the experts, which I especially awaited in order to compare it with what my cousin had said, and my trouble became only the greater. And when, in the chamber, M. Jaurès asked the prime minister if a secret document had been communicated, I considered that the silence of the government gave consent. General Iung, my friend and colleague in the chamber, entertained the same distrust, and very squarely declared that the conduct of the war offices had been abominable.”
The witness-stand was then taken by M. Yves Guyot, who testified concerning a lesson in expert examination of handwriting which he had received from M. Bertillon.
“M. Bertillon told me that there were two kinds of handwriting,—sinistrogyrate and dextrogyrate. It seems that in sinistrogyrate writing the loops turn to the left, while in dextrogyrate writing the curves and loops turn to the right. I confess that today it would be as impossible for me to tell one from the other as it was before I received the lesson.Then I said to M. Bertillon: ‘Well, when you compared the incriminated document with the writing of the accused, you doubtless found that the two documents were in the sinistrogyrate writing?’ ‘Not at all,’ said he; ‘the writing of the accused is dextrogyrate, while that of the incriminated document is sinistrogyrate; but I saw by certain contractions of the pen that the accused had disguised his handwriting, changing his dextrogyrate writing into sinistrogyrate writing.’ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘it is not because of identity of writing that you attribute the document to the accused, but because of a difference in writing.’ ‘Yes,’ he said. I answered that I was surprised that he should make such a declaration on such a basis. ‘Pardon me,’ said he, ‘I did not conduct the examination. I proposed that other means should be employed. I said, for instance, that a chemical composition could be put in the inkstand of the accused, and if, after that, a document was found, a test with the chemical reagent would show whether the document was written with ink from that inkstand. I also indicated four or five other ways of determining whether the accused was guilty, but they did not follow my advice. I simply gave my opinion, declaring that a document written in a sinistrogyrate writing must be the work of a man whose writing is dextrogyrate.’”