The trial of Emile Zola: containing M. Zola's letter to President Faure relating to the Dreyfus case, and a full report of the fifteen days' proceedings in the Assize Court of the Seine, including testimony of witnesses and speeches of counsel

by Émile Zola

Sixth Day—February 12.

At the beginning of the sixth day’s proceedings Colonel Picquart resumed the witness-stand, and asked permission to make a declaration that would make clearer the spirit of his testimony of the day before. This being granted, he said:

“I believe that the expression used by M. Zola when he declared that the military judges had condemned in obedience to orders went a little farther than he thought. What happened, at least, as I believe, was this. General de Pellieux, out of respect for the thing judged, thought it his duty to keep the matter of the bordereau out of his investigation. Major Ravary, whose investigation followed that of General de Pellieux, was certainly influenced—perhaps unconsciously—by the view of his superior. He even gave me proof of this,—I can say it here, where many things have been said already,—when, after I had said to him: ‘The witnesses will not be unearthed, until you have caused Major Esterhazy to be arrested,’ he answered: ‘I cannot have him arrested. My superiors have not thought it proper to do so, and I do not see that anything has come into my hands which should change their decision.’ The judges belonging to the council of war found themselves confronted with an examination which was, in my opinion, incomplete. In view of the proofs laid before them, they decided the matter according to their conscience, and to show you the liberty of mind that presided over their deliberations I declare here that one of them, toward the end of the session, said this (and I admire his courage): ‘I see that the person really accused here is Colonel Picquart. Therefore I ask that he be called, in order that he may say to us whatever he may deem necessary in addition to his deposition.’”

M. Lauth was recalled, to be again confronted with Colonel Picquart.

M. Labori.—“Supposing that a post-office stamp had been placed upon the card-telegram, what, in Major Lauth’s view, would have been the use of it?”

Major Lauth.—“It would have shown that the paper reached its destination, whereas without such a stamp it must necessarily have remained at its starting-point.”

M. Labori.—“Has not Colonel Picquart said, and has not Major Lauth confirmed the statement, that it had been shown that the origin of this dispatch was the origin of the bordereau?”

Major Lauth.—“When I received it, I could not say that the origin was not the same, for I received it at second-hand.”

M. Labori.—“Has it ever been pretended that this dispatch was seized on Major Esterhazy’s premises?”

Major Lauth.—“No.”

M. Labori.—“That is sufficient for me. Then I would like to know how the dispatch, having the same origin as the bordereau, or as the fragments of paper mingled with the dispatch, could have been considered as coming from Major Esterhazy’s premises.”

Major Lauth.—“I do not understand you.”

M. Labori.—“I will explain. I asked Major Lauth what would have been the use, in any point of view, of placing a stamp on the dispatch. Major Lauth answered that the stamp would have shown that the dispatch reached its destination. Now, it is necessary that the jury should know that it has never been said that the dispatch was written in Major Esterhazy’s hand, and to know also that the writing to the origin of which Major Lauth was asked to certify was not the handwriting of Major Esterhazy. The dispatch was addressed to Major Esterhazy. Now I am inquiring as to the origin. Major Lauth says that the utility of the stamp was to show that the dispatch reached Major Esterhazy’s residence. Thereupon I ask: Was the bordereau, or the papers contained in the package that contained the dispatch, or the papers proceeding from the same source,—were any of these considered as coming from Major Esterhazy’s premises?”

Major Lauth.—“No.”

M. Labori.—“Then how does Major Lauth reconcile the affirmation that the dispatch originated as Colonel Picquart had said, with the declaration that it had been placed in the cornucopia in which torn documents of this sort were placed?”

Major Lauth.—“It is not for me to explain what Colonel Picquart may have believed.”

M. Labori.—“All right. I take note of this declaration. What, now, was the use of strips placed upon the photograph to conceal traces of tear?”

Major Lauth.—“I did not say that I had placed strips in such a way as to remove traces of writing. Whenever I have had to make a photograph, Colonel Picquart has asked me to cover up certain lines, or certain words with a line in the middle. On each occasion I have made plates concealing a part. He did not explain to me his purpose.”

M. Labori.—“I am much pleased with the answer, for it brings out a point that had escaped me,—that M. Lauth did not intend to say that there was anything singular in this photographic treatment of the dispatch.”

Major Lauth.—“Pardon me, I say that I did not conceal the text. I had to remove traces of tear, in order to give the dispatch the appearance of a document absolutely new and intact.”

M. Labori.—“Was Major Lauth ever asked to remove the appearance of tear from the original?”

Major Lauth.—“Oh! that would not have been possible.”

M. Labori.—“The reply satisfies me. Was not the bordereau also in bits?”

Major Lauth.—“Yes.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Into how many pieces was the dispatch torn?”

Major Lauth.—“Perhaps sixty.”

M. Clemenceau.—“How large was the largest piece?”

Major Lauth.—“Perhaps one-twentieth of a square inch.”

M. Clemenceau.—“How were these pieces reassembled?”

Major Lauth.—“I have no explanations to furnish concerning that matter.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Probably you misunderstand me. It is a material fact that cannot concern the national defence. I asked by what method the pieces of a document are reassembled when they are found, as these were, in a cornucopia.”

Major Lauth.—“The dispatch was pasted after I had had the pieces arranged in their proper places. When Colonel Picquart gave it to me, it was in the form of fragments of paper mingled with many others.”

M. Clemenceau.—“When Colonel Picquart asked M. Lauth, according to the latter’s testimony, if he could not cause a post-office stamp to be put upon the dispatch, in what condition was the dispatch?”

Major Lauth.—“The pieces had been reassembled.”

M. Clemenceau.—“By what process?”

Major Lauth.—“By the use of a transparent paper, cut in very narrow strips that followed almost exactly the traces of the tearing.”

M. Clemenceau.—“On which side of the dispatch were these strips pasted?”

Major Lauth.—“On the addressed side.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Then will Major Lauth explain to us, accepting the improbable supposition that he had complied with Colonel Picquart’s desire, where he would have had the post-office stamp placed?”

Major Lauth.—“In the first place, he did not ask me to have the paper stamped. He said to me: ‘Do you think that they would stamp it?’ It is not for me to inquire what his purpose was.”

M. Clemenceau.—“I wanted to know how M. Lauth could explain the alleged fact that Colonel Picquart asked to have a post-office stamp placed upon this document by any third party whomsoever, to give it authenticity, when, according to M. Lauth’s testimony, there was no place on it where a stamp could be put without putting it in part on the strips of gummed paper?”

Major Lauth.—“I have no explanation to give.”

M. Clemenceau.—“If the dispatch comes from the cornucopia, it is torn and not stamped. If it comes from the post-office, it is stamped and not torn. When the chief of staff shall call for the original, if it is shown to him torn and stamped, because coming from the post, he will ask: ‘Why is it torn?’ Another hypothesis: Assuming the dispatch to be torn and stamped, it can have but one origin. It must come from Major Esterhazy’s premises, because, stamped, it had been in the mails, and, torn, Major Esterhazy must have torn it. Now, Major Lauth has just said that it has never been pretended that the dispatch came from Major Esterhazy’s premises.”

M. Labori.—“When you compared Major Esterhazy’s handwriting with the bordereau, was the original of the bordereau before you, or the photographs only?”

Colonel Picquart.—“Photographs only. The original of the bordereau was in the Dreyfus file, sealed. That file has been unsealed only twice, when General Gonse had occasion to withdraw some papers from it.”

The Judge.—“Did the photographs conform absolutely to the original?”

Colonel Picquart.—“They were used for the experts.”

Colonel Henry was then recalled, and re-examined as to the interview which he claims to have surprised between M. Leblois and Colonel Picquart in the latter’s office. Being asked whether he saw the secret file and the document beginning with the words: “That scoundrel D——,” he answered:

“It was in October, I think. I have never been able to fix the date precisely. All that I know is that there was an open file in the room. The colonel was sitting on his left leg, and at his left sat M. Leblois, and before them on the desk were several files, among others the secret file which I had so labelled, and on the back of which I had placed my signature, or rather my initial, with blue pencil. I saw the words: ‘secret file.’ The envelope was open, and the document in question was outside of it. A few days later I met General Gonse, who said to me: ‘How are things going? What progress is Colonel Picquart making?’ I answered: ‘Things are going rather slowly. Colonel Picquart is still absorbed in his Esterhazy matter.’ ‘Ah! that is bad, because the business of the office is suffering a little.’ ‘And do the indiscretions continue?’ ‘Oh! the indiscretions do not concern me.’ Whereupon I said: ‘In view of the indiscretions, perhaps you would do well to take possession of the secret file,—there was then only one in the department,—for I saw it a few days ago on his desk, in the presence of a third person.’ I did not name the person. I believe that two or three days later the general took possession of it. Whether he took it himself, or asked Colonel Picquart to send it to him, I do not know.”

The court then recalled General Gonse, and asked him whether the file was in disorder when it was returned to him.

General Gonse.—“Yes.”

The Judge.—“Colonel Picquart, what have you to say?”

Colonel Picquart.—“I repeat that I never had the file on my table in the presence of M. Leblois, either open or closed. Moreover, it seems a material impossibility that the thing should have occurred as Colonel Henry says, if M. Leblois proves that he returned to Paris November 7. Colonel Henry has just told you that, a few days after witnessing this scene, he spoke of it to General Gonse and advised him to call for the file, and that General Gonse did so call a few days later. Now, General Gonse has testified on previous occasions that he asked me for the file a few days before my departure.”

The Judge.—“You hear, Colonel Henry. Had you the secret file?”

Colonel Henry.—“M. Leblois admitted it before the council of war. He said: ‘In view of the precise declarations of Colonel Henry, I certainly cannot contradict him.’ You can appeal to the members of the council of war.”

M. Leblois, being recalled, said:

“No, I did not admit it. This is what happened before the council of war. Colonel Henry said simply that there was a file on Colonel Picquart’s table. He said nothing of a photograph, and specified no date, and I said to him: ‘Colonel, I believe that you are mistaken, but, as it is not my habit to make a minute inventory of the documents that are lying on the desks of people when I go to see them, I consider that it is not for me, but rather for Colonel Picquart, to say whether at any time whatsoever there was on his desk an envelope bearing the words “secret file.”’ I said very firmly to Colonel Henry: ‘I do not wish to contradict you, not simply out of politeness, but because I consider that it is for Colonel Picquart to contradict this statement, if it is incorrect.’ But, if he had made a more precise statement, and had said what he has just said,—that the file included a photograph,—I would have contradicted him absolutely.”

Colonel Henry.—“I contradict M. Leblois absolutely. This is what I said before the council of war: ‘Before these gentlemen lay a secret file and a photographed document, the document half out of the envelope and beginning with these words, “That scoundrel D——”’”

The Judge.—“Did you see the document?”

Colonel Henry.—“Yes.”

M. Leblois.—“But the colonel has just admitted that he said that the photograph was not out of the envelope. Could Colonel Henry explain to us how he reconciles his present evidence, M. Leblois and Colonel Picquart turning their backs to the desk, with his evidence given at the investigation and thus stated in Major Ravary’s report: ‘When Colonel Henry, on his return to Paris, entered Colonel Picquart’s office, he saw M. Leblois, from whom the colonel received long and frequent visits, sitting near the desk and searching with him a secret file.’”

Colonel Henry.—“Searching ... searching?”

M. Labori.—“Either Colonel Henry does not tell the truth, or else the truth is not told in Major Ravary’s report.”

Colonel Henry [walking toward Labori].—“I will not permit you to call my words in question. I will not permit it.”

M. Labori.—“I say that there is a formal contradiction between Major Ravary’s report and your evidence.”

Colonel Henry.—“That is not my affair.”

M. Labori.—“Possibly not, but it is mine.”

Colonel Henry.—“Ask an explanation of Major Ravary.”

M. Labori.—“At present I can seek an explanation only from you, who are here.”

Colonel Henry.—“The expression ‘searching,’ if it is not real, is at least figurative.”

M. Labori.—“What was the date of this visit?”

Colonel Henry.—“I said that it was in October. At any rate, on my return from leave. I have always said October, I think, and I cannot say anything else.”

M. Leblois.—“Variations as to facts, variations as to dates. It is very difficult for a witness, with the best will in the world, to follow his adversaries over ground so shifting.”

Colonel Picquart.—“Did Colonel Henry enter my office by the door opposite the desk, or by the little side door?”

Colonel Henry.—“By the main door.”

Colonel Picquart.—“About how far into the office did he come?”

Colonel Henry.—“I could not say whether it was four inches or a step.”

Colonel Picquart.—“But Colonel Henry was on the other side of my desk; that is, on the side opposite to that where I was sitting.”

Colonel Henry.—“Opposite you, and I perfectly saw the document, for it was the place in which I stood that enabled me to see the document and the file.”

Colonel Picquart.—“I shall ask to be shown the document. General de Pellieux showed it to me in his office, and at a distance. It is a very obscure photograph. I had to put my nose into it in order to recognize this document, which does not read Cette canaille de D ..., but Ce canaille de D....”

Colonel Henry.—“I would know it at a distance of ten steps. This is not to be disputed, especially when one is in the habit of seeing a document, and I have seen this more than once. I formally maintain my assertion, and I say again: Colonel Picquart has lied.”

The Judge.—“You are in disaccord.”

M. Labori.—“Permit me. What, Monsieur le Président, do I rightly understand? You say ‘in disaccord’! For the second time an offence has been committed in this court. A witness has been insulted by another witness, and the only thing that you have to say is: ‘These witnesses are not in accord.’ I take note of it.”

The Judge.—“You will take note of what you like.”

M. Labori.—“Since Colonel Picquart, being addressed as he has just been addressed by Colonel Henry, hears no comment but this: ‘You are in disaccord,’ I ask that he explain himself unreservedly.”

Colonel Picquart.—“Gentlemen of the jury, you have seen here men like Colonel Henry, Major Lauth, and the keeper of the archives, Gribelin, make odious accusations against me. You have heard the colonel tell me that I have lied. You have heard Major Lauth make without proofs an allegation as serious as that which he made yesterday, saying that it was I, though he had not the proof, but that it must have been I who placed the dispatch in the cornucopia. Well, gentlemen of the jury, do you know why all this is done? You will understand it when you learn that the artisans of the previous affair, which is so intimately connected with the Esterhazy affair,—those who acted conscientiously, I think, believing that they had the truth on their side,—when you learn that Colonel Henry and M. Gribelin, aided by Colonel du Paty de Clam, under the direction of General Gonse, received from the regretted Colonel Sandherr (who was already afflicted with the serious disease of which he afterward died), as a sort of testament, at the time when he left the service, the duty of defending against all attacks this affair which involved the honor of the bureau, and which the bureau had pursued conscientiously, believing that it was acting in accordance with the truth. But I thought otherwise when I was at the head of this service, and considered that there was a better way of defending a cause than that of acting in blind faith. Consequently, for months, insults have been heaped upon me by newspapers paid for the spreading of slander and error.”

M. Zola.—“Exactly.”

Colonel Picquart.—“For months I have been in the most horrible situation that an officer can occupy,—assailed in my honor, and unable to defend myself. Tomorrow perhaps I shall be driven from this army that I love, and to which I have given twenty-five years of my life. That has not deterred me, remembering, as I did, that it was my duty to seek truth and justice. I have done it, thinking thereby to render a greater service to the army. I considered that I must do my duty as an honest man. That was what I had to say.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Did I understand Colonel Henry to say that, a few days after he saw the file on Colonel Picquart’s desk, he spoke of the matter to General Gonse?”

Colonel Henry.—“Perhaps two or three days after; I do not remember exactly.”

M. Clemenceau.—“How long after this conversation with General Gonse did Colonel Picquart leave the bureau?”

Colonel Henry.—“A week, I think.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Summing up the matter, we shall have the truth. The presence of M. Leblois at the war department” ...

The Judge.—“You are not asking questions now.”

M. Clemenceau.—“I wish to bring out the truth.”

The Judge.—“You can bring it out in your argument.”

M. Clemenceau.—“I wish to bring it out now. If you do not wish it, deprive me of the floor. I declare that I can bring out the truth by the testimony of witnesses.”

The Judge.—“Ask questions.”

M. Clemenceau.—“No.”

The Judge.—“You will do what you like in your argument.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Then take the floor away from me, and I will be silent.”

The Judge.—“I take the floor away from you so far as summing up is concerned. You can ask questions, if you like.”

M. Clemenceau.—“I wish, by the testimony of two witnesses who are in disaccord, to bring out the proof of the truth.”

The Judge.—“Not now.”

M. Clemenceau.—“But” ...

The Judge.—“When you sum up.”

M. Clemenceau.—“My claim is that, in two words, I can show which of these two officers has committed an involuntary error.”

The Judge.—“Ask questions. You have not the floor for arguing the matter.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Have I the floor for proving the truth?”

The Judge.—“I deprive you of the floor for argument.”

M. Clemenceau.—“I ask you this question, Monsieur le Président. A point is in doubt between two officers of the French army” ...

The Judge.—“You have not the floor for argument. You can offer a motion; that is all.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Two officers have contradicted each other. If you will accord me the floor, I will, in two words” ...

The Judge.—“No. Offer a motion. I do not accord you the floor.”

M. Clemenceau.—“And Article 319?”

The Judge.—“I know it.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Gentlemen of the jury, permit me to read to you Article 319.”

The Judge.—“I know it.”

M. Clemenceau.—“It is to the jurors that I wish to read it.”

The Judge.—“Read if you like, but you will read it to the jurors, who have nothing to do with it.”

M. Clemenceau.—“The jurors have everything to do with it. I take note of these words. I will not allow it to be said in presence of the jury that it has nothing to do with this matter. If Monsieur le Président adheres to those words, I ask him to repeat them.”

The Judge.—“The jurors have nothing to do with the direction of the trial.”

M. Clemenceau.—“I read Article 319, second part. ‘The witness must not be interrupted. The accused or his counsel may question him through the president after his disposition, and say, as well against him as against his testimony, anything that may be useful to the defence of the accused.’ Monsieur le Président, in conformity with the terms of this article, I ask the floor to point out which of these two officers is right.”

The Judge.—“But you will point it out in your argument.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Monsieur le Président, I need to point it out in the presence of these two officers, because, if I am mistaken, one of the two will correct me.”

The Judge.—“Explain, then, the question that you are going to put. I will put it.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Colonel Henry says: ‘I spoke to General Gonse of what I saw in Colonel Picquart’s office, three days after having seen M. Leblois in Colonel Picquart’s office.’ Colonel Henry says also: ‘Colonel Picquart left the service about a week after I spoke to General Gonse.’ I point out to the witness—and this is the purpose of my question—that in good arithmetic eight and three make eleven, and that the visit of M. Leblois, as is established undeniably, must have occurred between November 9, the date of M. Leblois’s return to Paris, and November 14, the date of Colonel Picquart’s departure from the service,—a period of five days. Between five and eleven days there is a difference of six days. I call Colonel Henry’s attention to the error of six days, and I ask him what he has to say about it.”

Colonel Henry.—“You understand that I do not specify dates to a day. I have not spoken of dates.”

This finishing the confrontation of Colonel Picquart with those who had contradicted him, the witness-stand was taken by M. Demange, the counsel of Captain Dreyfus before the council of war.

Testimony of M. Demange.

M. Labori.—“Will M. Demange tell us what he knows of the Esterhazy case, and of any matters connected with it that may be useful as throwing light upon M. Zola’s good faith?”

The Judge.—“Speak only of the Esterhazy case; nothing else.”

M. Demange.—“Exactly, Monsieur le Président. In the latter part of October I learned through the newspapers that M. Scheurer-Kestner had become convinced of the innocence of Dreyfus, and was at work to secure his rehabilitation. I wrote to M. Scheurer-Kestner, asking him to make known publicly at the tribune or elsewhere his reasons for affirming the innocence of Dreyfus. He did not answer, the reason of his silence being, as I found out later, that my letter came during the fortnight in which he had promised General Billot to say nothing. Therefore I was much agitated in mind until November 13 or 14, the day before M. Mathieu Dreyfus denounced Captain Esterhazy as the author of the bordereau before the minister of war. On that day M. Mathieu Dreyfus came to my house in a state of great agitation, bringing with him a sample of handwriting astonishingly like that of the bordereau, and said to me: ‘M. Scheurer-Kestner says that it is my duty to denounce as the author of the bordereau M. Esterhazy, whose writing this is.’ Obeying a feeling of prudence, I said to M. Mathieu Dreyfus; ‘Do what M. Scheurer-Kestner has told you to do; but, first, I advise you to ask him to declare publicly that he has designated to the minister of war as the author of the bordereau the person whom you are about to denounce; thus no one will be able to question your good faith. And, since you have only the handwriting, confine yourself to denouncing M. Esterhazy as the author of the bordereau, and go no farther.’ I was much excited, for I saw a chance for a revision of the Dreyfus case. I had already resolved, moreover, to address myself to the minister of justice, since I had learned from M. Salle that there had been a violation of the law. But I had not yet done so, for a reason that I may point out. Before employing the legal course, and especially that belonging to me by virtue of Article 441 of the code of criminal examination,—that is, the nullification of the sentence on the ground of violation of law,—I desired the assistance of those who, wearing the robe as I do, are anxious concerning the rights of defence. I awaited very impatiently the Esterhazy trial. I was present at that portion of it which was held in public, and even asked permission to intervene that there might be a contradictor. The permission was refused. But what especially interested me was the testimony of the experts. It was here that I expected to find the new fact necessary to the obtaining of a revision in case of Esterhazy’s acquittal. Dreyfus having been convicted only on the bordereau and on handwriting, the expert testimony in the case of M. Esterhazy might bring out elements that would permit me to say to the minister of justice: ‘Here is the new fact.’ I knew from M. Ravary’s report that the experts had concluded that the writing was not M Esterhazy’s, but I did not know their reasons. I got no satisfaction, because of the closing of the doors, and thus this method of revision was cut off. There remained then the method of nullification. But I could not apply to the minister of justice, unless I was certain that the door would open, should I knock. Now, the conditions under which the Esterhazy trial took place had convinced me that the government did not desire to throw light on the Dreyfus case.

“What could I do? I could say to the minister of justice: ‘I am morally certain that there has been a violation of the law,’ but I could not give him legal proof. I had to do, then, what is done in cases of this sort,—call on the minister of justice for an investigation, in order to have my assertion verified. I did not wish to take the step alone, and at that moment I had not found the desired assistance, either among lawyers or among those in political life. They said to me: ‘Have a care: do not stir up this Dreyfus matter now. It is too soon; we must wait.’ And I was waiting at the time when M. Scheurer-Kestner brought his facts to the knowledge of the public. It was necessary to my purpose to have a government desirous of throwing full light upon the matter, because, if there was to be a revision, it should not take place behind closed doors. When seven officers who are honesty itself have condemned a man erroneously, public opinion cannot be convinced, unless their error can be precisely pointed out. Well, I was convinced that the government did not want the light, and so I asked myself what I should do. Then were unchained the passions which today are making such riot, preventing men from giving further thought to the fate of my unfortunate client. It is no longer a question of the Dreyfus case; it is a question of the honor of the army; it is the struggle between the Semites and the anti-Semites. But I, alas! am concerned only with the interests of my client. Consequently, I said to myself, we must await more peaceful times, and I said the same to M. Mathieu Dreyfus and to Mme. Dreyfus. The attorney-general has told you that recourse had been had to revolutionary methods; but this reproach cannot be addressed to M. Zola, because he had not the power to use the legal methods. Only the Dreyfus family could use those, and consequently it is the Dreyfus family that is to be reproached, and, indirectly, myself. And I might even tell you that, for a long time, and especially since the speech of the attorney-general, I have been receiving every morning letters signed and unsigned, the former polite, the latter anything but polite, in which I am reproached with having failed in my duty. I consider that I have not failed. My duty has always been before my eyes, and you may be certain that my conscience will never allow me to shrink from it. But I believe that I acted very prudently in advising M. Dreyfus to wait. And so it is that the Esterhazy case, which had given me hope that I could resort to the legal methods of securing a revision, has made it impossible for me to use these methods, because it has convinced me that the government does not want the light.”

M. Labori.—“Will M. Demange tell us what he thinks of this passage from Major Ravary’s report? ‘To sum up what is left, a painful impression which will have an echo in all hearts truly French. Of the actors in the cast some have acted in the presence of the public, others have remained behind the scenes; but all the methods employed had the same end in view,—the revision of a judgment legally and justly rendered.’”

M. Demange.—“Since I desired to apply to the minister of justice for a nullification of the judgment, I could not have considered it legally rendered.”

M. Labori.—“Why not?”

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

M. Labori.—“But it concerns the Esterhazy case.”

M. Demange.—“I told you a moment ago. I had learned from M. Salle that there had been a violation of the law. That is why I wanted to apply to the minister.”

M. Labori.—“What violation?”

The Judge.—“No, no, M. Demange; do not answer that.”

M. Clemenceau.—“Permit me to ask a question. Monsieur le Président, I point out to you, in the first place, that an incident which lasted a very long time, and in which Colonel Henry figured, bore exclusively on the Dreyfus case; taking advantage of this observation, I ask you to put to M. Demange the following question. M. Demange has just told us, and is forbidden further explanation by the court, that he was certain that the verdict had not been legally rendered. I ask him if he cannot tell us on what he bases this certainty, and especially if he does not base it on the fact that a member of the council of war so declared to M. Salle, who has so declared to him.”

M. Demange.—“Why, yes, of course.”

The Judge.—“M. Demange, do not answer.”

M. Clemenceau.—“I ask you, Monsieur le Président, to put the question.”

The Judge.—“No, no, I will not put the question.”

M. Labori.—“I have another question to ask M. Demange. There appeared in ‘Le Matin’ a few days ago a three-column interview, containing most interesting things, most of which, to my personal knowledge, are perfectly true. Without asking M. Demange if the interview took place at his house, I ask him to say if the statements of the interview are true.”

M. Demange.—“In the first place, there was no interview. I had received a letter from a professor of the university, and a letter from two young licentiates who spoke in the name of the students more than a month ago. These two letters, which were signed, were very polite, and they accused me of failing in my duty, saying: ‘You know, M. Demange, that an illegality has been committed; why do you not apply to the minister of justice?’ These letters said that I was the cause of the appearance of M. Zola’s article. They said that, if I had applied to the minister of justice, none of this hubbub would have occurred. It is not a question, then, of an interview. I answered the professor and the young people, inviting them to come to see me. They came, and I had a confidential talk with them. The professor has respected my confidence, but the young people have not followed his example.”

M. Labori.—“Does M. Demange know the reasons why M. Leblois never entered into relations with the Dreyfus family or with M. Demange?”

M. Demange.—“He never told me the reasons. I have even reproached him for it. I told him that then we should have been able to apply to the minister of justice.”

M. Labori.—“Did M. Demange see the bordereau that was produced in the Esterhazy case?”

M. Demange.—“I believe I did.”

M. Labori.—“Did he see it in the original?”

M. Demange.—“Certainly.”

M. Labori.—“Has he seen the photographs of it?”

M. Demange.—“I have seen the original on file, and I had in my possession, in the court-room, a photograph, which I restored at the end of the trial.”

M. Labori.—“Is M. Demange familiar with the fac-simile that was published in ‘Le Matin’?”

M. Demange.—“I should say so. As soon as I saw it, forgetting that I had no longer the photograph in my hands, I said to myself: ‘Very likely it will be charged that I gave this to “Le Matin”.’”

M. Labori.—“Then there was a resemblance between this fac-simile and the bordereau?”

M. Demange.—“A striking resemblance. You have not the original, then?”

M. Labori.—“No, but we should very much like to have it. Is M. Demange aware that General de Pellieux has declared that between the fac-simile and the original there is no resemblance? What does M. Demange think of that?”

M. Demange.—“I think that two honest men can differ in opinion.”

Testimony of M. Ranc.

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.”

Testimony of M. Pierre Quillard.

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 in which 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.”

Testimony of M. Jean Jaurès.

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 the bordereau. Why, then, was it necessary 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 the bordereau. 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 the bordereau which 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 the bordereau. I know it, and I can appeal here to the testimony of one of our honest confrères who 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. The bordereau, moreover, is but an accessory element in the case; but, so far as the bordereau is 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 the bordereau and my own a frightful resemblance, and when ‘Le Matin’ published the fac-simile, I felt that I was lost.”’

“I point out to the jurors that the fac-simile was 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 terrible secret, 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 strangely blasé regarding 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 of the 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 the bordereau. Now, how could the possession of a document containing these words: ‘That scoundrel D——,’ help Esterhazy to show that he did not write the bordereau? 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 first duty 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 the bordereau; 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 arbitrary régime of 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 wretched prolétariat from 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 the bordereau and fac-simile, the court order the production of the original of the bordereau. The first motion was granted, but the court refused to order the production of the bordereau.

The testimony of the experts being now in order, M. Bertillon took the witness-stand.

Testimony of M. Bertillon.

“I am absolutely sure,” he testified, “that Dreyfus wrote the bordereau. 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 this bordereau exhibits. It could have been written only at the house of the condemned man.”

M. Labori.—“This is very interesting. We pretend to prove that the bordereau is 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 the bordereau can 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 a tabula rasa. But I have convincing proofs; they are not simply proofs that put one on the scent; they constitute a demonstration that the bordereau was written by the man originally condemned.”

The Judge.—“And that it could not have been written by anybody else?”

M. Bertillon.—“No. The bordereau, 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 the bordereau for 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. Will Monsieur le Président ask 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.—“That is not at all the plan of my deposition; it is a scheme for a special point in my deposition. I do 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 the bordereau or 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 the bordereau. Now, I have absolute proof that the bordereau must 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.