Chapter L: Dreyfus (5)

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. It is 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 words _A. Dreyfus_ and the word _adresse_, and I ask him what scientific consequence he can draw from the possible superposition of the words, both of which begin with _adr_, 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 the _bordereau_ is 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 Esterhazy _bordereau_. 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 the _bordereau_ in 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 same _bordereau_, for it is impossible to reconcile their testimony. That is why the witness will not answer. I repeat: Is the _bordereau_--and here I pay no attention to Dreyfus; call him Tartempion, if you will, but answer me--is the _bordereau_ written 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 Esterhazy _bordereau_?”

M. Bertillon.--“You torment me with questions.”

M. Labori.--“Has the honorable witness seen the thin paper original of the _bordereau_ attributed 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 the _bordereau_ is 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 say that 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 Esterhazy _bordereau_ in 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 the _rôle_ attributed 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 our _confrère_ Decori, 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, the _bordereau_; 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.

_Testimony of M. G. A. Hubbard._

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 the _bordereau_ that 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 long explanation, 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 the _bordereau_ was 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 first _fac-simile_ of the _bordereau_, 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 the _bordereau_ of which he had brought me the photograph. Immediately it appeared to me that the differences which Bertillon had pointed out to me between the _bordereau_ and 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 the _bordereau_ was 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. The _bordereau_ is 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 the _bordereau_ was 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.”

_Testimony of M. Yves Guyot._

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.’”

M. Guyot was then asked his opinion of M. Zola’s good faith. He answered:

“Gentlemen, I have a very clear opinion of my own, and this opinion I share with the intellectual _élite_ of France. Moreover, as I was a member of the cabinet for three years, I am more or less intimate with _personnel_ of the departments. Well, there I find many men who do not hesitate to say in private conversation that the Esterhazy trial was a parody on justice. And not only do these persons believe in M. Zola’s good faith, but so do many foreigners--specialists and men of science--with whom I am in relations. The truth is known beyond our frontiers, and will be appreciated there, though we stifle it here. In foreign countries the military officers and the diplomatists understand the Esterhazy case exactly.”

_Testimony of M. Teyssonnière._

The next witness was M. Teyssonnière, who, as one of the experts in handwriting connected with the Seine court, served in the Dreyfus case of 1894, but, a few days before the trial, was stricken from the list of experts, in consequence of a charge that in another case he had called on one of the parties thereto for a payment of 2,000 francs before beginning his report. He told at length of his troubles at that time, and said that before the first council of war he had demonstrated mathematically that the _bordereau_ was written by Dreyfus, he having found that certain words in it were identical with the handwriting of Dreyfus. Later he called upon M. Trarieux, who was then minister of justice, by whose intercession he was enrolled as one of the experts of the appellate court.

“It was on this occasion,” said M. Teyssonnière, “that I spoke of the Dreyfus case to M. Trarieux, and afterwards to M. Scheurer-Kestner, to whom he sent me. M. Scheurer-Kestner told me in June, 1897, that he had conceived doubts concerning the guilt of Dreyfus, and that he would like me to give him light. I brought to him the photograph of the _bordereau_, and demonstrated by a comparison of handwritings that the guilt of Dreyfus was certain. He seemed convinced. On July 9 he sent for me again, and showed me originals of the handwriting of Dreyfus and Esterhazy, and we compared them with the _bordereau_. I called his attention to entire syllables in the _bordereau_ which were exact tracings of the handwriting of Dreyfus. M. Scheurer-Kestner then told me that he had had occasion to call upon the staff since my first visit, and that they had said to him: ‘Don’t talk to us of Teyssonnière; he is a thief. It was the testimony of Bertillon that convicted Dreyfus.’ Nevertheless, I have made twenty-five decisive comparisons with the handwriting of Dreyfus, and these comparisons reveal five complete superpositions. There is no doubt; it is a case of identity.”

The witness then told of his relations with another expert, M. Crépieux-Jamin, who had been asked by M. Bernard Lazare to examine the _bordereau_.

“I received a visit,” said the witness, “from M. Crépieux-Jamin. I remember it only too well, for he came on a day when I had just cut myself to the bone with a table-knife. As he is a doctor, I was not sorry to see him. He attended me professionally for several days, and during that time we naturally talked of the Dreyfus case. I told him that the _fac-similes_ of the _bordereau_ published in the newspapers were very rough pieces of work, and calculated to deceive the public. He tried to inspire me with doubts as to my own conclusions. Not until the last day did I perceive the purpose of his questions. One evening, suddenly, he asked me how much I had received for my report. ‘Two hundred francs, I believe,’ said I. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘you could have had a hundred thousand.’ ‘But, my dear friend,’ said I, ‘you know that I was formerly connected with the department of roads and bridges, and that I have a pension of 4-1/2 francs a day. My little house is mine; I have lived in it honorably, and I wish to die in it honorably.’ This convinced me that M. Crépieux-Jamin had come to sound me.”

M. Zola.--“At the time of your report in 1894 had you been offered money?”

M. Teyssonnière.--“No.”

M. Clemenceau.--“Nor afterward, either?”

M. Teyssonnière.--“I can say only one thing,--that M. Crépieux-Jamin told me that I could have had for my report a hundred thousand; the word ‘thousand’ was cut in two by my reply.”

M. Labori.--“Did he tell you that he was sent by anyone?”

M. Teyssonnière.--“No, but I felt that he was endeavoring to get me to express a doubt as to the conclusions of my report. He buried that in my brain as with a gimlet.”

On the demand of M. Labori, M. Trarieux was recalled for confrontation with M. Teyssonnière.

M. Trarieux.--“When M. Teyssonnière, who had been sent to me by his deputy, M. Descubes, came to tell me of his disgrace, he said that he had been denounced by a Jewish magistrate. I asked the judge of the civil court who had revoked him to restore him to his position. This magistrate explained that M. Teyssonnière had asked of a client an advance payment of 2,000 francs, that certain experts were in the habit of making these demands, and that an example must be made of some one. I fully approved, but I asked him if M. Teyssonnière was unworthy of my interest. Receiving a negative reply, I went to the president of the appellate court, and asked him to inscribe M. Teyssonnière on his list of experts, which he did.”

M. Teyssonnière.--“And I shall always be grateful to you. Investigation showed, however, that, far from having asked 2,000 francs too much, I was a loser by 600 francs.”

M. Trarieux.--“I remained on excellent terms with M. Teyssonnière. He came to see me several times. We talked of the Dreyfus case, and I saw that he had been much more struck by the dissimilarities between the writing of Dreyfus and the _bordereau_ than by the similarities. In the course of one of our discussions M. Bertillon was mentioned. ‘Bertillon!’ exclaimed M. Teyssonnière; ‘he nearly spoiled everything. He made an incomprehensible report. Fortunately I was there.’ I sent M. Teyssonnière to M. Scheurer-Kestner, who, though at first convinced by his demonstration, soon afterwards was impressed, as I was, by certain dissimilarities, especially by certain double _ss_, which were written _fs_ in the Dreyfus writing and _sf_ in the _bordereau_. M. Teyssonnière maintained that these dissimilarities were intentional.

“Last June M. Teyssonnière came to me to tell me of a strange occurrence. The night before, as he was leaving his house, he found on the table in his vestibule a package that had been left there by an unknown hand. He opened it, and was astonished to find the photographs of Dreyfus’s handwriting that had been given to him to report upon in 1894. ‘How is it,’ he asked, ‘that these documents, which I surely returned, have been left at my house? It is the work of the Jews. They are trying to compromise me.’ I advised him to return the documents to the minister of war, or put them in a safe place. I do not know whether it was the same day or later that he told me that he had had occasion to go to the war offices for a certain piece of information, and had been received very unfavorably, the officer to whom he applied saying to him that he was astonished that M. Teyssonnière dared to show himself there. M. Teyssonnière was at a loss to understand such an attitude toward an expert whose testimony in the Dreyfus case had won him the congratulations of the staff.

“Last November I was told that M. Teyssonnière was suspected by the government of having communicated to ‘Le Matin’ the _bordereau_ of which ‘Le Matin’ gave a _fac-simile_ in November. Till then my confidence in M. Teyssonnière had been complete. But, beginning now to entertain doubt, I wrote about the matter to his deputy, M. Descubes, who sent my letter to M. Teyssonnière. Nevertheless I heard nothing more from him.”

_Testimony of M. Charavay._

The second expert was succeeded on the witness-stand by the third, M. Charavay.

M. Labori.--“Can M. Charavay tell us whether the _bordereau_ was traced, or written in a running hand?”

M. Charavay.--“I refuse to answer. It is a custom among experts never to give an opinion while a trial is pending.”

M. Clemenceau.--“Then when do they give an opinion?”

M. Labori [handing specimen of the _bordereau_ to the witness].--“Do you know these?”

M. Charavay.--“They are writings connected with the Dreyfus case. That is very far away.”

M. Labori.--“Certainly you cannot be very curious, if you have not heard it spoken of in the last few months.”

M. Charavay.--“At any rate I am determined not to answer. I was one of the experts in the first trial. I know nothing of the second.”

M. Labori.--“Would you ever condemn a person solely on the strength of an expert examination of handwriting?”

M. Charavay.--“I answer with your authorization, _Monsieur le Président_. I answer purely and simply that, as I do not believe in my own infallibility, or in the infallibility of anybody under such circumstances, never in my life would I condemn anyone on an expert examination of handwriting in the absence of material or moral proofs.”

The Judge.--“That is a very natural opinion. But it does not affect the situation at all.”

M. Labori.--“You add your impression, _Monsieur le Président_, to that of the expert, and I shall have something to say about that in my argument.”

Then the witness-stand was taken successfully by the two remaining experts in the Dreyfus case,--M. Pelletier and M. Gobert, the latter the expert of the Bank of France. Both of them testified that, while there were commonplace analogies between the handwriting of the _bordereau_ and that of Dreyfus, the dissimilarities were too numerous to warrant the attribution to Dreyfus of the authorship of the _bordereau_. The day’s proceedings ended with brief examinations of the three experts in the Esterhazy case,--MM. Couard, Belhomme, and Varinard. M. Couard refused to testify on the ground that he and his colleagues had brought suit against M. Zola for 100,000 francs damages, but nevertheless declared that he and his two colleagues, working independently, had reached unanimously the conclusion that the _bordereau_ was not the work of Major Esterhazy. M. Belhomme’s testimony was virtually the same, and M. Varinard categorically refused to answer, on the ground that his report had been read behind closed doors.

EIGHTH DAY--FEBRUARY 15.

After the opening of the court, permission was given to General Gonse to make an explanation concerning the testimony of M. Jaurès. He protested that the staff, far from having delivered a secret document to Major Esterhazy as a cordial, as M. Jaurès had said, and far from being desirous of avoiding the light, wished the light most ardently; that in the preliminary investigation of the Esterhazy case an inquiry was begun to find out how the document reached Major Esterhazy, but then, in consequence of the rapidity with which the investigation was conducted, the inquiry could not be carried to the end, and so the light was not obtained; that it would be a great relief to the staff to know who conveyed the document, especially as the only persons in whose hands it had been were Colonel Henry, M. Gribelin, Colonel Picquart, and himself, General Gonse; that he could answer for Colonel Henry and M. Gribelin, but that it was not for him to speak of himself; that the newspapers had misreported that part of his testimony in which he declared that Colonel Picquart, prior to this affair, had been a very good officer, by making him say that Colonel Picquart _is_ capable of continuing to be a very good officer, whereas he had spoken, not in the present, but in the past tense, to give expression to the fact that such was his belief at the time when Colonel Picquart was sent on a mission; and that his present feeling regarding Colonel Picquart he had stated very clearly before the council of investigation, but could not now repeat, because the proceedings of that council were secret.

M. Labori.--“General Gonse declares that the staff is desirous of the light, and that he and his superiors are ready to contribute thereto as far as possible. Therefore I invite him to ask the minister of war to authorize General Mercier to explain the communication of the secret document, which is now proved; to release Colonel Picquart from the obligation of professional secrecy, except on matters vital to the national defence; to consent to the production in court of the original _bordereau_, and of the papers used by M. Bertillon in his expert examination; and to instruct M. Bertillon and the experts in the Esterhazy case to testify.”

General Gonse.--“I am not authorized to speak of these questions, or to transmit them.”

M. Labori.--“Then don’t come here again to talk to us of the light, and to tell us that you love the light.”

_Testimony of M. Crépieux-Jamin._

M. Crépieux-Jamin then took the witness-stand to answer the charges made by M. Teyssonnière the day before.

“The testimony of M. Teyssonnière,” said the witness, “is a pure romance from one end to the other. In the first place, there is only one man capable of valuing M. Teyssonnière at 100,000 francs, and that is M. Teyssonnière himself. When I went to his house, I was absolutely ignorant of his report. He asked me to dinner, and we did not talk of this matter at all. After dinner he took me aside, and said: ‘Come, let us talk of the case.’ ‘Of what case?’ ‘The case of Dreyfus.’ Today, of course, everybody would understand that it was the case of Dreyfus, but at that time it was still possible for people to meet without talking of the Dreyfus case. My wife was engaged in some trifling work. M. Teyssonnière said to her in a theatrical tone: ‘Madame, drop what you are doing; I am going to show you things of much greater interest.’ And to my astonishment M. Teyssonnière spread before me the entire file of the first council of war. We talked at length about this file. I had all the documents--which were secret documents--in my hands, and M. Teyssonnière said to me: ‘Promise me that you will say nothing.’ I have kept my promise until today, and now it is only to defend myself that I declare that M. Teyssonnière showed me the file, which he got I know not where, I know not from whom, and which he certainly had no right to show me. I listened while M. Teyssonnière told me of his report. Every moment or two he stopped to ask me: ‘Well, are you convinced?’ ‘Oh, dear, no, and I assure you that your proofs are only quarter-proofs. There is absolutely nothing in your report that is convincing.’ We talked at length about the _bordereau_ and the _fac-simile_ in ‘Le Matin.’ There is only one little difference between them; the ‘Matin’ plate was slightly damaged at the bottom. M. Teyssonnière said: ‘What annoys me is that they accuse me, or will accuse me, of having given the _bordereau_ to “Le Matin.”’ I asked him why. ‘Oh!’ he said, ‘because each photograph of the _bordereau_ has its peculiar margin, and it seems that the photograph which ‘Le Matin’ obtained has the same margin as the photograph which I had upon which to make my report.’ ‘Well,’ I answered, ‘you have reason to be troubled, since in that case the document can have been communicated only by you or by the officers of the council of war.’ ‘Well,’ said he, finally, ‘I have not convinced you?’ ‘No,’ I replied, ‘and I believe that of all your reports this is the worst. You pretend to infallibility, and your report is indisputably false.’

“Now, gentlemen, if I had been sent by the Dreyfus family to bore a gimlet into M. Teyssonnière’s head, as he claims, evidently he would not have waited four days, but would have speedily turned me out of his house. But nothing of the kind. I was not lodging at M. Teyssonnière’s. I was at a neighboring hotel. As my departure drew near, M. Teyssonnière said to me: ‘Excuse me, I have something to do. Wait five minutes.’ He went out. When I arrived at my hotel, I called for my bill. M. Teyssonnière said: ‘Dear friend, I am too happy to have had you for my guest. I have paid everything.’ That was not the conduct of a man who had just received impudent proposals. A fortnight later M. Teyssonnière wrote me an extremely affectionate letter, which I have in my pocket. My visit was on August 23; it was on September 3 that M. Teyssonnière gave me this evidence of affection. If my purpose in going to his house was to buy him, it is curious that a fortnight later he should have written me in such terms.”

M. Labori.--“Has not the witness refused to testify as an expert in the present trial?”

M. Crépieux-Jamin.--“That is a proof of my honesty and my independence. If I had been a paid agent of the Dreyfus family, I would not have refused. When I was approached about this matter, I answered: ‘Thank you; I am a physician and a dentist, not an expert in handwriting.’”

M. Labori.--“If I am well informed, the witness declined to testify for motives of prudence?”

M. Crépieux-Jamin.--“Yes; I am not particularly fond of having my windows broken. In the first place, I am not a professional expert in handwriting; I am only an amateur. When I was asked for a first report, I gave it, because it suited me to give it. When I was asked for a second, I refused, because it did not suit me to give it, and because I saw danger in doing so. I did not want people to come to me and say: ‘You have done such and such things; hereafter you shall not fill our teeth.’”

The witness being asked if the photographs shown him by M. Teyssonnière resembled the _fac-simile_ in “Le Matin,” he answered:

“It is inconceivable that any one should deny it. A fact is a hard thing to kill. Sooner or later the time will come when the original photograph of the _bordereau_ will be in the hands of everybody, and then the persons who have declared these _fac-similes_ to be false will see that they have been guilty of an impudence which lays them under suspicion.”

M. Labori.--“What is the difference between the official photographs and the _fac-simile_?”

M. Crépieux-Jamin.--“The difference is slight. It is more or less marked, according to the copy of ‘Le Matin’ that you happen to get. In my opinion, that newspaper had several plates. One of these plates must have received a blow in the lower right-hand corner that crushed a few of the words. The rest is so typical that there is not the smallest difference. Besides, if there is any forger here, it must be the sun, because these things are obtained by purely mechanical processes. One must be ignorant of the methods of reproduction to say that a plate has been altered. You can no more alter a plate of this kind than you can alter a photographic plate. What retouching process could it have been submitted to? It would have been necessary to efface entire words, and replace them with other words. But, I repeat, facts have a long life; they have time to live, and the truth that I am telling you will be very plain one of these days.”

_Testimony of M. Paul Meyer._

The next witness called was M. Paul Meyer, director of the Ecole des Chartes, member of the Institute, and a professor in the College of France.

M. Labori.--“Is the witness an Israelite?”

M. Meyer.--“I was going to say a word on that point. In 1882, the year that I entered the Institute, when I took the biennial Grand Prize, the most important that the Institute awards, M. Drumont, in three odious pages of the first edition of ‘La France Juive,’ declared that I was the son of a German Jew, and that that was the reason why I had been awarded the principal of the Academy prizes. I wrote to M. Drumont to deny that. I was born in Paris of French parents. My grandfather on my father’s side was a native of Strasbourg, which explains my Alsatian name. I was baptized at Notre Dame. I made my first communion, and was confirmed, at Saint-Sulpice, where I studied the catechism until I was sixteen. It is provoking that without proofs a statement should be printed that I am of another religion, or have changed my religion, which I declare that I have not done, and have no intention of doing. I am glad to make this declaration, in order to save myself the trouble of writing letters of correction to newspapers in which I should not like to see myself in print.”

M. Labori.--“Will you give us your opinion of the _bordereau_?”

The Judge.--“Did you ever see the original?”

M. Meyer.--“I have seen only _fac-similes_, the original not being visible to the naked eye of the profane. One witness has testified here that the _fac-similes_ resembled forgeries, and that nothing is less like the original than these _fac-similes_. It is clear that, if they resemble forgeries, they do not resemble the original. But I believe that this witness, who is not accustomed to the precise formulation of thought, went farther than he intended. I shall try to dissect his declaration, and see what there is in it. These _fac-similes_ are produced by what is known as the Gillot process. It is a zinc relief, the zinc being eaten in certain parts. When a plate of this sort is put on a rotary press, the zinc crushes a little, and the letters fill up. But this effect can be discounted in advance, and any comparison of writings should eliminate all difference between clear and filled letters. The process is not a particularly good one, but it has the advantage of being cheap; and, besides, it does not lend itself easily to retouching, which is a guarantee of sincerity. It alters in no way the form of the letters. If a person is in the habit of crossing his _t_’s on the bias, on the bias the crosses will remain. If he crosses them horizontally, they will remain horizontal. There is no possibility of error of this sort. The witness referred to says that the _fac-simile_ resembles a forgery. No. There is the sort of alteration that I have pointed out, and there is another equally unimportant. The original is written on two pages, while the _fac-simile_ is on a single page for convenience of publication. But this difference is purely external, and has no bearing on the form of the letters; so I do not see what they mean when they say that the _fac-simile_ does not resemble the original. Let me say, in passing, that I have had a conversation with M. Bertillon about all sorts of things. He said to me,--I quote him because it is a point of fact and not a point of reasoning,--‘These _fac-similes_ are not so bad.’ M. Bertillon knows photography and knows this process of reproduction. Consequently it seems to me audacious to say that the _fac-simile_ resembles a forgery.

“But the day after the deposition of the witness in question certain newspapers said: ‘It is a forgery.’ Such is the way in which a legend springs up. An inexact report in the first place, then a falsehood mingles with it, and then you have the legend. Well, the legend must be destroyed absolutely. I should like the witness who said this _fac-simile_ resembled a forgery to explain to me how it is, seeing that this _fac-simile_ was published at the beginning of 1896, that anyone could have had the idea of making a _fac-simile_ of Major Esterhazy’s handwriting, when at that time he had not been heard of in connection with the case. Well, these _fac-similes_ show the writing of Major Esterhazy; as to that I have no sort of doubt. Is it Major Esterhazy’s hand? Ah! here is a distinction, and a subtle one. At least it seems to me subtle. It appears to result from the report of the experts in the second trial. I do not know that report, but I have read in a newspaper that it is the theory of these experts that the _fac-simile_ is the writing of Major Esterhazy, but not his hand. That may be; I do not know. I have tried two or three hypotheses to explain this dualism,--on the one hand the writing, on the other the hand. I will spare you these hypotheses. I think it would be hardly charitable on my part to attribute them to the experts, because I, their author, consider them absurd. I hope that these gentlemen have found a hypothesis that has escaped me, and that will explain this difficulty.

“There is a certain way of refuting me, if I am wrong. I do not ask that the original be brought here,--to ask that would be enormous;--I ask simply for a more delicate photograph, simply two pages on albumen paper, something very clear. Or, better yet, I would like glass negatives. When a photograph is printed, there is always a negative. It would be as well to bring the negative. Now, by looking at the gelatine side of the negative, you can see whether it has been retouched or not. For me this glass plate is as good as the original, except in one point,--the quality of the paper, which cannot be seen on a glass plate. From it one could tell whether there is a difference between the original represented by the photograph and the original more or less imperfectly represented by the published _fac-similes_. If they will show me these plates, I will ask nothing better than to confess. If it proves to be true that the _fac-similes_ made by the Gillot process and published in ‘Le Matin’ are bad, I will say so frankly. But, if this request be refused, then I say that I am right. I felt very sad when I read the demonstration of a certain expert, for I had talked formerly with this expert, who in some respects is a very remarkable man, and has invented a really magnificent thing--anthropometry. Well, this conversation at first interested me--one always learns; then it amused me, and finally it distressed me, gentlemen. I was distressed to think that it was possible to entrust an expert examination in so serious a matter to a man whose methods of investigation it is impossible to dispute, because they are entirely foreign to common sense.”

M. Labori asked the court to recall the three Esterhazy experts that they might be confronted with M. Meyer.

The Judge.--“They are bound by professional secrecy.”

M. Labori.--“But, _Monsieur le Président_, I pray you.”

The Judge.--“No, no, they were right.”

M. Labori.--“I insist. M. Paul Meyer has told us that all the hypotheses which he could frame in order to understand that this document, while being Esterhazy’s writing, was not in his hand, had seemed to him impossible. Did I rightly understand?”

M. Meyer.--“Perfectly. But perhaps these gentlemen have found something that I have not found.”

M. Labori.--“Then it would be interesting to hear MM. Couard, Varinard, and Belhomme.”

The Judge.--“No, no, I have said” ...

M. Labori.--“But I have a question to put.”

The Judge.--“You shall not put it.”

M. Labori.--“I insist, _Monsieur le Président_.”

The Judge.--“I say that you shall not put it.”

M. Labori.--“Oh! _Monsieur le Président_, it is interesting” ...

The Judge.--“It is useless to shout so loud.”

M. Labori.--“I shout, because I need to make myself heard.”

The Judge.--“The question will not be put.”

M. Labori.--“You say that; but I say I wish to put it.”

The Judge.--“Well, I say that it is an understood thing. The court must keep out of the debate anything that would uselessly prolong it. I say that this is useless, and it is my right to say so.”

M. Labori.--“You do not even know the question.”

The Judge.--“I know very well what you wish to ask.”

M. Labori.--“Well, I offer a motion in order to get a decree from the court on this point.”

The Judge.--“Offer all the motions that you like.”

M. Labori.--“If you think that this shortens the debate, you are mistaken.”

The Judge.--“Well, we will pass on the motion during the recess. Next witness.”

M. Auguste Molinier is ushered in.

The Judge.--“What is the question, M. Labori?”

M. Labori.--“I am drawing up a motion, and I consider it absolutely indispensable that the deposition of M. Meyer and the incidents to which it has given rise should be finished before the next witness testifies.”

The Judge.--“But ask your question now. It is useless to waste our time.”

M. Labori.--“Pardon me, _Monsieur le Président_, we must hear first MM. Couard, Belhomme, and Varinard. It is indispensable to the truth, and I insist that my motion shall be formally denied before the next witness testifies. I consider it indispensable from the standpoint of the defence.”

M. Labori then offered a motion that the court formally acknowledge its refusal to put to the Esterhazy experts a question that had not been framed, and order that these experts be heard regarding the interviews with them.

The court retired, and, returning five minutes later, rendered a decree refusing to order that the witnesses be heard, on the ground that they could plead professional secrecy, and that their testimony would only prolong the trial without useful results.

“Now,” said the judge, “the principle is laid down. Every time that you insist, the same decree will be rendered. Let that be understood.”

M. Labori.--“Then it is a standing decree?”

The Judge.--“It is a standing decree.”

M. Labori.--“There was nothing like that in the old _régime_. It is inaugurated in this assize court. I can only bow, while I protest.”

The Judge.--“It is the law, according to Article 270 of the code of criminal examination.”

M. Labori.--“It is the first time that a court of justice has declared that a decree rendered constitutes a standing decree, and that all incidents to come will be decided by the same decree. It is the first time, and, while I bow before your words, I can only protest.”

The Judge.--“Protest as much as you like. But every time, under the same circumstances, the same decree will be rendered.”

_Testimony of M. Auguste Molinier._

The next witness was M. Auguste Molinier, a professor in the Ecole des Chartes.

“I have lived among manuscripts,” said the witness, “for 25 years, and I have observed them in such detail that now, by signs almost imperceptible to others, I can recognize the identity of handwritings, and tell about how long a certain manuscript has been written. I have had in my hands a _fac-simile_ of the _bordereau_, and, after examining the formation of the letters therein, and comparing it with letters written by Major Esterhazy, I affirm, on my soul and conscience, that I find in Major Esterhazy’s letters all the principal formations that occur in the _bordereau_.”

The Judge.--“At whose request did you make this examination?”

M. Molinier.--“I made it of my own accord, for, in common with all Frenchmen, I am interested in this case.”

_Testimony of Mme. de Boulancy._

At this point M. Clemenceau read the report of the magistrate, M. Bertulus, who had been appointed to put certain questions to Mme. de Boulancy. The answers of Mme. de Boulancy, as stated in this report, were in substance to the following effect: that she was in possession of letters and telegrams from Major Esterhazy, some of which, notably two telegrams, were of recent date; that she had deposited these documents in a safe place, intending to preserve them as a means of self-defence; that the telegrams contained no threat, but urged her in polite, but most pressing, terms to restore to Major Esterhazy the letters which he had written to her between 1881 and 1884; that these letters are perhaps as compromising as the letter in reference to the Uhlans, and that they say certain rather serious things in regard to the army and to France; that she would not consent that these letters should be handed to the judge by those in possession of them, as she wished to be well armed, in case she should be charged with forgery; that Major Esterhazy had come to her door four or five times, but that she had refused to let him in; that, seeing that he was unwilling to leave the stair-landing, or was too persistent in his attitude toward the servant, she came to the half-open door, which was secured by a chain, and asked him to go away, pointing out to him that he was compromising her; that the object of each of these visits was to ask for a return of the letters and the telegrams; that she had always answered that she would not publish them, but must keep them for her defence; that she told him that the letters that had been published were published against her will, and in consequence of her too great confidence in the word of a person whom she had supposed to be a devoted friend; that Major Esterhazy had never said, in answer to her refusal, that he would kill himself; that on Saturday, February 5, 1898, when she had already taken up her residence at Neuilly, Major Esterhazy was seen on the stairs of her previous residence, 22, Boulevard des Batignolles, by the tenant occupying the floor above; and that she did not know what attitude Major Esterhazy assumed when he heard this tenant coming.

M. Clemenceau then offered a motion that a magistrate be appointed to ask Mme. de Boulancy whether Major Esterhazy did not say in these letters; first, that “General Saussier is a clown, and we Germans would put him in a circus;” second, that, “if the Prussians were to come to Lyons, they could throw away their guns and keep only bayonets, and still drive the Frenchmen before them.”

The court postponed its decision, and called another witness, M. Emile Molinier, professor at the Ecole du Louvre, and a brother of the preceding witness. He testified that the similarity between the handwriting of the _bordereau_ and that of Major Esterhazy is absolutely complete. “I will even say,” he added, “that, if a _savant_ were to find in one of the volumes of the National Library by the side of Major Esterhazy’s letters the original of the _bordereau_, he would be considered disqualified if he did not say that the _bordereau_ and the letters were written by the same person.”

M. Molinier was then succeeded by M. Célerier, professor in the College of Fontenay-le-Comte.

“The _bordereau_ and Major Esterhazy’s letters,” said the witness, “are absolutely in the same handwriting. The letter _n_ is strangely formed. Now it is regular, now it becomes an _x_. Thus the word _tenir_ often appears as if it were the word _texir_. Well, I find the same thing five or six times out of ten in Major Esterhazy’s letters. One has only to open his eyes to see that it is absolutely the same handwriting.”

The Judge.--“Who asked you to make this examination?”

M. Célerier.--“M. Bernard Lazare. He asked me if I would make an examination, and I said yes, and afterwards sent him a report of a few lines containing my conclusions.”

The Attorney-General.--“Was the witness confronted in another case with the three Esterhazy experts?”

M. Célerier.--“Yes.”

The Attorney-General.--“And there, too, you did not agree with them?”

M. Célerier.--“I did not.”

M. Labori.--“In view of the questions of the attorney-general, I would like to ask if a fortnight ago a case was not heard before the court of Paris, in which the court refused to recognize the testimony of M. Varinard and M. Couard.”

Testimony to the same effect as that given by the preceding witnesses was then given by M. Bourmon, a paleographer, who in turn was succeeded by M. Louis Franck, a Belgian lawyer.

_Testimony of M. Franck._