Ninth Day—February 16.
At the opening of the session the court rendered a decree denying the motion of M. Clemenceau that a magistrate be appointed to further examine Mme. de Boulancy regarding the contents of the letters from Major Esterhazy, basing the denial on the ground that the witness had already declined to specify the contents of the letters, and that therefore it would be fruitless to question her further. The witness-stand was then taken by General de Pellieux, who made the following statement:
“I recognize that, of all the fac-similes that have appeared, that published by ‘Le Matin’ most resembles the bordereau, but I wish to point out an essential difference. The bordereau is written on both sides of thin paper and in pale ink, the writing on the back being much darker than the writing on the front; consequently, when the bordereau is photographed, the photograph necessarily shows something of the back as well as the front, so that, to print these fac-similes, it has been necessary to remove the traces of the writing on the back by some photographic practice with which I am not familiar. The defence absolutely rejects all the expert testimony made by sworn experts who have had the originals before them, and admits all expert testimony made by experts who have seen only fac-similes or photographs. The defence has even tried to turn into ridicule the testimony of sworn experts, and has brought to this bar some professional experts, but especially amateur experts, even a dentist; and, further than that, it has brought here—a fact which I leave the jury to judge—a foreigner, a foreign lawyer.
“When M. Mathieu Dreyfus wrote his letter to the minister of war, he said: ‘I accuse,’—and in that respect he showed himself a forerunner,—‘I accuse Major Esterhazy of being the author of the bordereau.’ I sent for M. Mathieu Dreyfus, and he asked for an expert examination of the bordereau. I pointed out to him that he rejected the first expert testimony based on an examination of originals, and I said to him: ‘Will you accept the second?’ He did not answer, and I concluded that, if the expert examination proved unfavorable, he would ask for still others, which he did. The bordereau was found insufficient; so they had another document in reserve, the dispatch. There has been testimony to show how far this document is from being authenticated, and any government that had prosecuted an officer on the strength of such a document would have covered itself with ridicule. So, when M. Picquart insisted that Major Esterhazy should be prosecuted and arrested on the strength of this simple document, he was separated from the war department. And I think that he was treated very indulgently.
“Much has been said of the writing of the bordereau, but its contents have not yet been referred to. I ask your permission, then, to take this bordereau, which has just been shown to me, and examine, point by point, whether it was possible for Major Esterhazy to procure the documents that were mentioned in it.”
M. Labori.—“I ask that Colonel Picquart, who is now present at the hearing before M. Bertulus in the matter of the complaint against the Speranza forgery, be summoned to court to hear the testimony of General de Pellieux.”
The Judge.—“Go on, General.”
M. Labori.—“I ask permission to offer a motion. I ask for the presence of Colonel Picquart here.”
The Judge.—“You have not the floor. Go on. General.”
General de Pellieux.—“I pretend to prove here, documents in hand, that the officer who wrote the bordereau is an officer of the war department, an officer of artillery, and, furthermore, a licentiate. I ask for a copy of the bordereau as it appeared in ‘Le Matin’.”
M. Labori.—“I ask you to send for Colonel Picquart. I protest against the absence of Colonel Picquart.”
The Judge.—“I will send for Colonel Picquart when I get ready.”
M. Labori.—“That is understood. Well, I point that out to the jury.”
The Judge.—“Point out what you like.”
M. Labori.—“I intend to do so. You think to turn the course of the debate, because General de Pellieux is here alone.”
The Judge.—“I have told you that you have not the floor. Do not oblige me to take measures. Go on, General.”
General de Pellieux.—“I thank you, Monsieur le Président.
“The bordereau contains this item: ‘A note on the hydraulic check of 120, and the way in which this piece is managed.’ This is the expression of an artillery officer. In speaking of this piece an artillery officer says ‘the 120.’ An infantry officer would never say that. He would say ‘the piece 120.’ Moreover, the artillery guard their secrets very carefully. Although I have been chief of staff of an army corps, I am not acquainted with the hydraulic check of the piece 120. It has been said that this knowledge would have been acquired at the manœuvres. It is absolutely impossible to see the operation of this piece at the manœuvres, and I, who was present at the manœuvres of 1896 and 1897, am unfamiliar with it. Furthermore, this paragraph must refer to a report that exists in the war department on the way in which this hydraulic check has behaved in experiments. Only an officer of the war department could have given information on this point. No infantry officer ever saw the piece 120 fired. Though I have been present at firing lessons, I never saw it fired.
“The bordereau contains also a note concerning troupes de couverture, and I call your attention to the second paragraph: ‘The new plan of mobilization involves some modifications.’ How could an infantry officer in garrison at Rouen have known anything about the troupes de couverture? It has been said that Esterhazy, being a major, was in possession of his regiment’s plan of mobilization. True, but in the plans of mobilization of regiments, especially of regiments that have nothing to do with couverture, there is no compromising detail. These plans simply specify the measures to be taken to make the regiment ready for transportation. The regiment does not know even where it is going. Deposited in the colonel’s office are what are called fiches. These fiches of transportation give only a point of departure and a point of arrival. At the point of arrival the regiment receives new fiches from a staff officer sent by the minister of war, and only there does it learn its final destination. Consequently Major Esterhazy could not possibly have given any detail regarding troupes de couverture. His regiment did not furnish such troops, and the regiments that do could give details only concerning the hour of their departure. And how could Major Esterhazy know anything of a new plan in progress of elaboration? Such a thing could have been known only to an accomplice in the war department.
“Thirdly, the bordereau contains a note on a change in artillery formations. How could Major Esterhazy have known anything about that? There is no artillery garrisoned at Rouen.
“Fourth, the bordereau contains a note relating to Madagascar. Gentlemen, the bordereau is certainly not of earlier date than March 14, 1894, since it speaks of a document that did not appear until March 14, of which I shall speak directly. It is certainly of earlier date than September 1, at the time at which it was seized. Well, at that time it was known only in the war department what part the land forces were to take in the Madagascar expedition. The question was not agitated until the 16th or 17th of August, 1894. These details, then, must have been given by an officer of the war department; Major Esterhazy at Rouen could not possibly have known of preparations for an expedition in which a part of the land forces would participate.
“I come now to perhaps the most serious point,—‘the note concerning the manual of artillery campaign practice, March 14, 1894.’ This manual has never been in the hands of an infantry officer. A very few copies were sent to artillery regiments. It is hardly known to the officers in the war department, except those of the third division,—the artillery division. Major Jamel had it in his drawer in the war department, and it was at the disposal of the incriminated officer whom I refuse to name here. There has been an endeavor to prove that Major Esterhazy once had this manual in his hands, and for that purpose an appeal was made to the testimony of a Lieutenant Bernheim, who happens to be an Israelite, and who came to testify. This officer was obliged to admit that he did not communicate the manual to Major Esterhazy; that what he communicated was an artillery regulation regarding siege pieces,—a regulation which anybody can buy, which does, indeed, contain interesting details regarding the firing of such pieces and something about the firing of all other pieces, and which Major Esterhazy had made use of in preparing a lecture on artillery to be delivered to his regiment. And right here I ask permission to relate an incident. M. Picquart sent for a certain Mulot, Major Esterhazy’s secretary, presented to him a firing manual, and said: ‘This is the document, is it not, that you copied?’ Mulot answered: ‘Not at all. I copied extracts from a firing manual, but it was a much larger manual than that, containing the rules for firing certain pieces.’ Whereupon M. Picquart said to him: ‘Your recollection is not very exact. Go home and think about the matter, and, when you have thought about it, write to us. You belong to the reserves, and, if you need any permits, apply to me, and I will see that you get them.’
“Now, gentlemen, I am coming to the end. What is left of the scaffolding that has been constructed? Not much, in my opinion; and yet on it rests the infamous accusation that the council of war acquitted a guilty party in obedience to orders. Gentlemen, I have not a crystal soul; I have a soldier’s soul, and it revolts against the infamies heaped upon us. I say that it is criminal to try to take away from the army its confidence in its chiefs. What do you think will become of this army on the day of danger,—nearer, perhaps, than you think. What do you think will be the conduct of the poor soldiers led by chiefs of whom they have heard such things said? It is to butchery that they would lead your sons, gentlemen of the jury. But M. Zola will have won a new battle, he will write a new ‘Débâcle,’ he will spread the French language throughout the universe, throughout Europe from whose map France has been wiped.
“One word more. Much has been said of revision. Revision—and I shall not be contradicted by my comrades—is to us a matter of absolute indifference. We should have been glad, had Dreyfus been acquitted. It would have proved that there was no traitor in the French army. But, gentlemen, what the council of war of 1898 was not willing to admit was that an innocent man should be put in Dreyfus’s place, whether Dreyfus was guilty or not. I have done.”
M. Labori.—“I ask the floor.”
The Judge.—“What question do you wish to ask?”
M. Labori.—“I appeal to Article 319 of the code of criminal examination, which says that ‘after every deposition the court shall ask the accused if he wishes to answer what has been said against him, and that the accused and his counsel shall have a right to question the witness through the court, and to say against him and his testimony anything that may be useful for the defence of the accused.’ I ask the floor.”
The Judge.—“What questions?”
M. Labori.—“I ask the floor to say against the witness and his testimony anything that may be useful for the defence of the accused.”
The Judge.—“You have the floor only to ask questions.”
M. Labori.—“I have the honor, by virtue of Article 319 of the code of criminal examination, to ask that the floor be accorded me, and I offer the following motion.”
General de Pellieux.—“Can I retire, Monsieur le Président?”
The Judge.—“You may sit down.”
M. Labori.—“I have the honor to ask the court to be good enough to wait until my motion is ready.”
The Judge.—“You have the floor.”
M. Labori offered a formal motion that the court accord the floor to the counsel for the accused, in conformity with Article 319 of the code, and asked for the floor in order to speak in support of his motion.
The Judge.—“You have the floor.”
M. Labori.—“Gentlemen, you have just heard, not a deposition, but an argument. It is the argument of the staff, which sends General de Pellieux here, not to give explanations, but to throw into the debate, speculating on the generosity of a great people” ...
At this moment there was an uproar in the court-room, which led M. Labori to say, interrupting himself: “I pay no attention, but I judge of the reach of my blows by the protests that they call from my enemies.”
The Judge.—“M. Labori, pay no attention to what takes place in the audience. You talk to everybody except the court.”
M. Labori.—“I answer the protests which the court does not suppress, and I add that I have here a letter that one of my confrères has just passed to me, which says: ‘M. Labori, lawyers are prevented here from making any manifestation. Why, then, are infantry and artillery officers allowed to openly applaud?’ I resume. I was saying that they speculate on the generosity of a great people which confounds persons with principles, which identifies chiefs, who are only fallible men, with the flag that we all respect and that no one has a right to monopolize, no more General de Pellieux than I. As a soldier, I owe respect to General de Pellieux, because he is my chief. I am a soldier, as he is, and on the day of battle my blood will be as good as his, and I declare that, though I may have fewer stripes, I shall not show less resolution or less courage. Every time that the advocate of the war department shall ask the floor at the beginning of the day’s hearing, in order to make an impression on the men of good faith whose names the newspapers of the Rue Saint Dominique print every evening as a sort of intimidation,—I say that every time that the advocate of the staff shall come to this bar to throw himself into the balance, not as a witness, but as a sort of pillar of support, the attorney-general’s silence proving inadequate,—I say that, immediately afterward, the defender of M. Zola, whatever his fatigue, whatever his emotion, whatever his sadness, will rise, and, though this trial should last six months, he will struggle until the light, which is becoming more brilliant every day, which at first was only a gleam” ...
The Judge.—“This has no relation to your motion. I am going to deprive you of the floor.”
M. Labori.—“If you deprive me of the floor, Monsieur le Président, it will be said that General de Pellieux was allowed to speak here for half an hour, and that I was not permitted to answer him. I await your decision.”
The Judge.—“You have the floor, but in support of your motion. Let us have done with it.”
M. Labori.—“If this expression, ‘Let us have done with it,’ indicates that I am disagreeable to the court, I am very much grieved; but I have no desire to have done with it. I want the light. Entrusted with the defence of Emile Zola, I will go to the last extremity to get it. I assure you that you do not excite me at all. I ask only for a moment’s rest, and will then speak to the end with tranquillity.”
The Judge.—“You speak of all sorts of things. That is why we shall come to no end, and you have not said a word regarding your motion.”
M. Labori.—“I am saying something now of greater consequence than my motion.”
The Judge.—“But we are not here to hear all these things. This is the first time that I witness such a struggle.”
M. Labori.—“Because it is the first time that there has been maintained, in the name of the law, a judicial error which must come to light,—which will come to light in a few days, if it does not today. General de Pellieux has said: ‘Innocent or guilty.’”
The Judge.—“According to Article 311 of the code of examination, I tell you that you must explain yourself with moderation.”
M. Labori.—“Will you tell me, Monsieur le Président, what expression has fallen from my lips that was lacking in moderation?”
The Judge.—“Everything that you say.”
M. Labori.—“Pardon me, I do not accept your warning, unless it is made more precise.”
The Judge.—“I repeat that this incident has now taken up ten minutes. Develop your motion simply.”
M. Labori.—“If you ask me to be moderate, and ask me in terms that resemble a warning or a censure, and if you do not tell me why you inflict this censure upon me” ...
The Judge.—“Will you speak in support of your motion?”
M. Labori.—“But, Monsieur le Président, do you hold to what you just said?”
The Judge.—“I have no account to render to you.”
M. Labori.—“Very well. This observation made, it is agreed that not one of my words can be reprimanded or blamed, and I continue. Article 319 declares that the witness, no matter how many stripes he may wear, cannot have the upper hand of the defence. M. de Pellieux is not the accused party here. If he were, he would have the same right that we have, and, if he were the complainant against the accused on behalf of the public, he could take the floor. But he is not. The staff has said to itself that it has in General de Pellieux a distinguished orator, and so it sends him here every day to begin the hearing with an argument against such portions of the demonstrations and evidence of the day before as seem overwhelming. Well, I say that, if ever Article 319 is to be applied, this is the time for it.”
The court retired for five minutes, and then rendered a decree refusing the floor to the counsel for the defence for the purpose for which he asked it, on the ground that it was the duty of the court, according to Article 270 of the code of criminal examination, to exclude everything that would needlessly prolong the trial.
M. Labori.—“I ask that Colonel Picquart be heard.”
The Judge.—“He is not here.”
M. Labori.—“I know it, but his place is here. I ask that he be sent for, and confronted with General de Pellieux.”
The Judge.—“He will come when he is free.”
M. Labori.—“Yes, at five o’clock tonight, when the hearing is over.”
The Judge.—“We will send for him soon.”
M. Labori.—“At once. I will ask no other question until he is summoned.”
But, in spite of this, Colonel Picquart was not heard, the witnesses that were called to the bar in the meantime occupying the rest of the session. The first was M. Scheurer-Kestner, who appeared in order to contradict some points in the testimony of the expert, Teyssonnière.
“M. Teyssonnière,” said M. Scheurer-Kestner, “made an incredible blunder when he said that I showed him on Sunday, July 11, specimens of Esterhazy’s handwriting. It is a monstrous error, for on July 11, when M. Teyssonnière came to see me,—and we have not met since,—I had never heard the name of Esterhazy.”
M. Teyssonnière.—“I thought that Esterhazy’s name was mentioned. At least I found it on my notes.”
M. Labori.—“What notes?”
M. Teyssonnière.—“The notes that I take daily.”
M. Labori.—“How could you have found the name of Esterhazy on your notes at a time when nobody was thinking about it? Your conversation with M. Scheurer-Kestner was in July, and it was on November 17 that M. Mathieu Dreyfus pronounced Esterhazy’s name for the first time in denouncing him to the minister of war. Now, M. Teyssonnière, ‘La Libre Parole’ publishes this morning an article in which it is said that M. Scheurer-Kestner and M. Trarieux tried to get you to modify your opinions. Are you in any way connected with the publication of this article?”
M. Teyssonnière.—“Yes.”
M. Labori.—“The article contains a letter written to you by M. Trarieux. Who gave the letter to that newspaper?”
M. Teyssonnière.—“I did.”
M. Labori.—“M. Trarieux, keeper of the seals, secured your restoration to the list of experts, after your name had been stricken from it. You have a way of showing gratitude that is peculiar to yourself.”
M. Teyssonnière.—“M. Trarieux in his testimony committed errors concerning me which I will qualify as lies. I did not go in search of him. I was sent to him.”
M. Labori.—“Have M. Scheurer-Kestner and M. Trarieux brought any pressure to bear upon your conscience?”
M. Teyssonnière.—“No.”
M. Labori.—“Well, then, be off.”
M. Trarieux.—“Pardon me. I should like to know on what point M. Teyssonnière pretends that I lied. He cannot say. He admits that I took an interest in him at the time when his name was stricken from the list of experts, and now he covers me with odious slander, and pretends that I drew him into some trap to get him to modify his conclusions as an expert.”
M. Teyssonnière.—“I have not said that.”
M. Trarieux.—“Then why do you carry a letter to ‘La Libre Parole,’ if not to permit that journal to publish it with venomous insinuations? I will not rest quiet under these calumnies. Never did I ask anything of you. It was you who wanted to force your opinions upon me.”
M. Trarieux then produced a letter from M. Teyssonnière in which he insisted on coming to show him his report in the Dreyfus case, and to scientifically prove the guilt of the condemned man.
M. Labori.—“Why did General de Pellieux declare that we reject the official experts, while appealing to foreigners and dentists? Why! when the staff experts are questioned by us, they preserve an obstinate silence. Could not General de Pellieux loosen their tongues? It is not words that we want, but reasons. What answer, indeed, can be made to men like M. Louis Havet, M. Molinier, or the director of the Ecole des Chartes? I fancy that you will not disdain these men as dentists. You think that you have said all when you have cried: ‘Good jurors, we shall have war.’ War? Who here is afraid of it? Not you or I, General de Pellieux. But we are entitled to know whether our chiefs are worthy of us. Then let them fear neither discussion or light. I ask that General de Pellieux be confronted with M. Meyer.”
The court gave its consent, and M. Labori put this question to General de Pellieux: “Will you explain your statement that the fac-simile ‘Matin’ was a forgery?”
General de Pellieux.—“I maintain that among the fac-similes reproduced by the journals there are some that singularly resemble forgeries.”
M. Paul Meyer.—“But what interest had ‘Le Matin’ in committing a forgery in 1896, when nobody was thinking of Major Esterhazy?”
General de Pellieux.—“I have always said that the reproduction made by ‘Le Matin’ was the least imperfect of all. It is not the same with the fac-similes that have appeared in certain pamphlets.”
M. Meyer.—“I have made no use of those. But the resemblance, according to ‘Le Matin’s’ fac-simile, between Major Esterhazy’s writing and the writing of the bordereau is undeniable.”
General de Pellieux.—“You have never seen the original of the bordereau.”
M. Meyer.—“I have seen the ‘Matin’ fac-simile, the fidelity of which has been admitted by M. Bertillon. That is sufficient for me. No one called your word in question, my general, but you are lacking in the power of observation. As for your experts, you perhaps will permit me to say that I do not consider myself beneath them in point of intelligence. The president of the civil court asks me to select most of them. Do you think that, if I had selected myself, he would have blackballed me? I prefer an expert examination made by myself from a fac-simile, to an expert examination made from an original by people whom I do not know.”
M. Meyer then asked General de Pellieux to procure for him at least the original photographs of the bordereau.
General de Pellieux.—“Oh! I would like nothing better, and I regret that the reports of the Esterhazy experts cannot be brought here and discussed. I was absolutely opposed to closed doors. They were declared in spite of me, but I have no right to violate them.”
M. Labori.—“But certainly somebody has a right to authorize this production. Let the order be given, and the light will stream forth. Oh! we have made some progress in the last week. Here we are, almost in agreement. If this trial goes on, we shall all walk out of here like honest people, arm in arm. It will be admitted that there has been only an immense misunderstanding between us, and that nothing is easier than to honestly repair a judicial error involuntarily committed. Well, my general, do what we ask. Get the minister of war to produce the bordereau. Pray him to show us this bit of transparent paper which is so securely locked up in his department, and let everybody see it. If it were not that certain minds are anchored in a blind obstinacy, we should soon see that in this whole matter there is not wherewith to whip a cat. It is a great pity that M. Couard is not here. It would be a pleasure to witness a discussion between him and M. Meyer, his former professor in the Ecole des Chartes.”
“I ask nothing better,” cried a stentorian voice, from the middle of the auditorium, and through the crowd pushed M. Couard, carrying a large package.
“I do not wish it to be said,” he shouted, “that I have not the profoundest respect for my old teacher. But what is the Ecole des Chartes? The Ecole des Chartes, I know it. I have been through it. Do they teach anything there about the handwriting of the nineteenth century? The fifteenth, the sixteenth, I even grant you the seventeenth and eighteenth, if you please; but contemporary handwriting? Why, there is not a single chair of modern handwriting there. I revere M. Meyer as a professor of Roman philology, but as an expert in handwriting he is like a child just born. Why, I was present at the development of a thesis on the famous flag of Jeanne Hachette, which is preserved at Beauvais. The candidate had deciphered upon it all sorts of interesting fifteenth-century inscriptions. I twisted with laughter. His description was based upon a flag manufactured in 1840 to replace the true one, which is worm-eaten, and of which nothing is left but shreds, upon which it is impossible to read anything. ‘Each one to his trade, then the cows will be well kept.’”
M. Meyer.—“If there is no instruction in writings at the Ecole des Chartes, where did you get your instruction, Monsieur Expert?”
M. Couard.—“By practice, my dear master,—practice for eight years.”
M. Meyer.—“Pardon me, I do not defend myself. Pupils are always the best judges of their professors.”
M. Labori.—“What is the package, so preciously wrapped, that you have there under the table? Does it contain, perchance, photographs of the bordereau?”
M. Couard.—“No, it is the famous dissertation upon the flag of Jeanne Hachette. I see what you are after. You wish to turn the course of my testimony. But it is established, nevertheless, that my old teacher is only an expert on occasion.”
Testimony of M. Paul Moriaud.
The next witness was M. Paul Moriaud, professor in the Geneva law school. He desired to use a blackboard for his demonstrations, as M. Franck had done the day before, but the court refused to permit him to do so. After declaring that there were never two handwritings so nearly identical as that of Esterhazy and that of the bordereau, he discussed the question whether the bordereau was produced by tracing.
“Tracing,” said the witness, “can be done in two ways. There is first the tracing of entire words separately. Suppose you desired to produce this phrase: ‘You are right, Monsieur,’ signed ‘So and So.’ You procure a specimen of the writing of M. So and So, and you look for the word ‘are,’ the word ‘right,’ etc. You paste them side by side, you cut out the signature and paste it beneath, and you photograph the whole; or else you trace them. In this case we may suppose tracing, for the bordereau is on tracing-paper. Here you have 181 words, almost all different. There are rare words among them,—Madagascar, check, hydraulic, indicating, etc. Well, if you should collect Major Esterhazy’s letters for ten years, and try to find in them all the words that are in this bordereau, you would not succeed. The process is an utter impossibility.
“You have been told by previous witnesses of the style and punctuation of the bordereau. I wish to say something of the way in which the words are placed. M. Esterhazy begins his paragraphs without indention. The lines that begin paragraphs are as long as their predecessors. Furthermore, he never divides a word at the end of a line. If there is not room for it, he runs it over to the next line. Now, you find that in the bordereau. Another thing. The bordereau is not in the same handwriting throughout. Now, M. Esterhazy’s handwriting is very variable. He writes coarse or fine, according to circumstances. Now, these two handwritings of Major Esterhazy are to be seen in the bordereau. The first fourteen lines are written in a more compact, more calm, more legible, finer handwriting, the last sixteen in a larger, looser hand. Now, if the bordereau had been traced, what would have been the result? All the words would have been in the same handwriting, either one or the other; or else there would have been a mixture, one word in one handwriting and the next in the other. But in the bordereau all the first part is in one handwriting, and all the second part in the other, which clearly shows that M. Esterhazy wrote the bordereau at two sittings, in two different states of mind.
“Some words are repeated in the bordereau. The word ne, for instance, occurs four times; the word de seven times. It is very evident that, if these words had been hunted for in M. Esterhazy’s letters, in order to trace them, on finding the word ne they would have copied it four times. But such is not the case. If we had time, I would propose a little experiment. I would ask you to cut from the bordereau one of the four words ne, and give it to me; whereupon I would immediately tell you which one of the four it was. Or you might do the same thing with the word vous, which occurs six times. If you will cut it out and show it to me, I will tell you whether it is the fourth, the fifth, or the sixth. They are so different that, from memory, in spite of the inevitable confusion that takes possession of a man when he speaks in public and among strangers, I should be able to recognize them, which proves that each of these words was written individually by M. Esterhazy. No two persons ever write the same word exactly like, and no person ever writes a word twice in exactly the same way. And so in the bordereau there is this variety of form which life always gives.
“The last argument. As I said, M. Esterhazy never divides his words, but, if the end of the word is far from the end of the line, he makes a long final stroke, often immoderately long; and a curious thing, that I have never seen in the handwriting of anybody else, is this: if the word at the end of a line is a little word, and if M. Esterhazy has much room, he writes the word in a larger hand. You will find, for instance, at the end of a line an immoderately large ne, which seems almost in another handwriting. Now, that is precisely what you will find in M. Esterhazy’s letters, the elongation of the final strokes to fill out the blank space at the end of a line; which proves clearly that these words were not taken here and there from Esterhazy’s letters. I consider this demonstration irresistible, and, whether its truth be admitted or not today, the day will come when savants will take these documents and say that M. Esterhazy wrote the bordereau, and there will be no doubt about it whatever. There may have been an original corresponding as a whole to the bordereau, but in that case M. Esterhazy wrote the original. If it be insisted that somebody has imitated M. Esterhazy’s handwriting, the imitator was M. Esterhazy himself.”
At the end of this demonstration the court adjourned.