The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll, Complete Contents / Dresden Edition—Twelve Volumes

by Robert Green Ingersoll

Now, gentlemen, understanding that there is this prejudice, knowing at the time the case commenced that it existed, I asked each one of you if there was any prejudice in your minds which in your judgment would prevent your giving a fair and candid verdict in this case, and you all, honestly, I know, replied that there was not. The district attorney, Judge Bangs, stated to you in the opening of this case, for the purpose of preparing your minds for the examination of this testimony, that you must, first of all, divest your minds of sympathy. I do not say that, gentlemen, neither would I say it were I the attorney of the Government of the United States, but I do say this: Divest yourselves of prejudice if you have it, but do not, gentlemen, divest yourselves of sympathy. What is the great distinguishing characteristic of man? What is it that distinguishes you and me from the lower animals—from the beasts? More, I say, than anything else, human sympathy—human sympathy. Were it not for sympathy, gentlemen, the idea of justice never would have entered the human brain. This thing called sympathy is the mother of justice, and although justice has been painted blind, never has she been represented as heartless until so represented by the district attorney in this case. I tell you there is no more sacred, no more holy, and no purer thing than what you and I call sympathy; and the man who is unsympathetic is not a man. Gentlemen, the white breast of the lily is filthy as compared to the human heart perfumed with love and sympathy. I do not want you to divest yourselves of sympathy, neither do I want you to try the case entirely upon sympathy, but I want you sympathetic enough to put yourselves honestly in the place of this defendant. Now, gentlemen, as a matter of fact, this case resolves itself into simply one point; all the rest is nothing; all the rest is the merest fog that can be brushed from the mind with a wave of the hand, and it is all resolved down to simply one point, and that is: Is Jacob Rehin worthy of credit? Has Jacob Rehm told against this defendant a true story?

Now, that is all there is in this case. The other points that they raise, and which I shall allude to before I get through, are valuable only as they cast a certain amount of suspicion upon the defendant, but the real point is, and the attorneys for the Government know it, Is Mr. Jacob Rehm's story worthy of credit? Did he tell the truth? Judge Bangs felt that was the only question, and for that reason, in advance, he defended the reputation of Jacob Rehm for truth and veracity; and he made to the jury this remarkable statement: "The reputation of Jacob Rehm for truth and veracity is good. It spreads all over the city of Chicago like sunlight." That was the statement made by the district attorney of the United States. I do not believe that he would swear to that part of his speech. It was an insult to every person on this jury. It was an insult to this court; it was an insult to the intelligence of every bystander, that the reputation of Jacob Rehm spread like sunlight all over the city of Chicago! My God! what kind of sunlight do you mean? Think of it!

Now, then, gentlemen, he knew it was necessary to defend the character of Mr. Rehm; he knew it was necessary to defend that statement. He knew that the testimony of Mr. Rehm was the only nail upon which the jury could possibly hang a verdict of guilty in this case.

And now I propose to examine a little the testimony of Mr. Jacob Rehm. I believe it was stated by Judge Bangs that one of the best tests of truth was that a lie was at war with all the facts in the universe, and that every fact standing, as it were, on guard, was a member of the police of the universe to arrest all lies.

Let me state another truth. Every fact in the universe will fit every other fact in the universe. A lie never did, never will, fit anything but another lie made to fit it. Never, never! A lie is unnatural. A lie, in the nature of things, is a monstrosity. A lie is no part of the great circle, including the universe within its grasp, and consequently, as I said before, will fit nothing except another lie. Now, then, to examine the testimony of a witness, you examine into its naturalness, into its probability, because you expect another man to act something as you would under the same circumstances. We have no other way to judge other people except by our own experience and an authenticated record of the experience of others, consequently, when a man is telling a story, you have to apply to it the test of your own experience, and as I say the recorded tests of other honest men.

Now, let us suppose just for a moment that the testimony of Mr. Jacob Rehm is true. Let us suppose it. It has been stated to you, and admirably stated, by Judge Doolittle,—admirably stated,—that it was the height of absurdity to suppose that a man would do as he did for nothing. But let me put it in another light somewhat. According to the testimony of Mr. Jacob Rehm, he first tried to stop this stealing. Nobody offered him any money to stop it, but he simply went to the collector, Irwin, and said they were stealing, and that it must be stopped; and thereupon Collector Irwin changed the gaugers for the purpose of stopping the stealing. A few days thereafter, somebody came to him and wanted the stealing to commence, and he told them they would have to pay for it, and the amount they would have to pay for it, and he then went to Collector Irwin, whom he supposed at that time to be a perfectly honest and upright man, and told him, in short, that they wanted to steal, and would give five hundred dollars a month. Irwin said, "Go ahead."

He admits that they did steal. He admits that they made a bargain with him. He admits that that happened, and he assigned all these gaugers and store-keepers. He admits that he did that for two years. He admits that he received at least one hundred and twenty thousand dollars of this money. He admits that in order to carry out this scheme he knew that every distiller would have to sign a lie every time he made a report to the Government. He admits that he knew every gauger would have to swear to a lie at the end of every month in his report of the transactions of each day. He admits that every store-keeper would be guilty of perjury every time he made a report. He admits that he knew that the thing that he was committing for two years was a daily penitentiary offence. He admits that he put himself in the power of all these gaugers and all these store-keepers, and all these distillers and rectifiers,—put it in their power to have him arrested for a penitentiary offence at any moment during the whole two years, and yet he tells you that he did this absolutely for nothing! He tells you every cent he received he divided and paid over; that he never kept a solitary dollar, except it may be for a box of cigars. I want the attorney for the Government to tell this jury that he believes that story. And if he does tell you so, gentlemen, I will give you notice now that you need not believe any other word Mr. Ayer says—if he says he believes that.

Now, then, what more? He knew that all these men were committing these penitentiary offences, and that he was putting himself in the power of all these men; and what was his motive? What, gentlemen, was his object?

It is impossible for me to imagine. If he got no money, if he made nothing out of this transaction, it is impossible for me to imagine why he embarked in such a course of crime. Why then did he say to you, gentlemen, that he paid all this money over? It was to build up a reputation with you. It was to make you think that whereas he paid this all over, that whereas he did all this business simply to accommodate his friends, that he was worthy of credit in his statement of this case. He told you that he did not keep a dollar simply to make a reputation with you. What did he want a reputation with you for? So that he would be believed. And what did he want to be believed for? So that he could send Munn to the penitentiary and, as the price of Munn's incarceration, get his own liberty. That is the reason he swore it, and there is no other reason in the world. Is it probable a man would commit all these crimes for nothing? Is it possible that he would hire and bribe other men to commit these crimes for nothing? I ask you; I ask your common sense; I appeal to your brains: Is it probable that he would do all that absolutely for nothing? Is it probable he would lay himself liable to the penitentiary every hour in the day for two years for nothing? There is and can be but one answer to such a question as that. Why, gentlemen, if his statement is true that he did all this for nothing, he is the most disinterested villain, the most self-sacrificing and self-denying thief of which the history of the world gives any record. Is it possible?

Is it possible, I say, that a man would make himself the sewer of all the official rot in this city, in which was deposited the excrement of frauds? Is it possible he would turn himself into a scavenger cart into which should be thrown all the moral offal of the city of Chicago for nothing? Whoever answers that question in the affirmative is, in my judgment, an idiot. Nobody can. Nobody has a mind so constructed that it can lodge an affirmative answer to that question within its brain.