How can a man try not to remember? What mental muscle is it that he
contracts when he tries not to remember? That is a metaphysical question
that interested me greatly when the man was testifying, for he said he
tried not to remember. Why did he try not to remember?
I didn't want to be called into court if I could possibly help it, and
for quite a long time did not mention the fact that I knew anything
of the books. But when I was called into court, I thought of all the
circumstances connected with the time that I copied the books; and a
few days ago, or a week or so ago, in going home one night, and thinking
this thing over in my mind, and thinking of everything I could think of,
my mind reverted to a conversation I had had at the time, laughing and
looking over the books.
It was not only one book, then.
And I wrote a great many letters, and read a great many names--They must
have been in the letter-books--and was laughing about the peculiarity of
the names, and even made the remark, "There is even Smith and Jones in
it."
What a wonderful circumstance! In copying the books and making an index
of the three letter-books he found Smith and Jones. The difficulty would
have been not to find Smith or Jones.
That is the evidence of that man. When Rerdell first went to him, he
told Rerdell distinctly, "I remember no name of Smith; I remember no
name of Jones." And then he waited until Rerdell went on the stand and
swore that he copied those books, and that the names of Smith and Jones
were in them, and then his memory was refreshed, and he came here and
swore that the names of Smith and Jones were there. All of a sudden it
came to him, like a flash, and he subsequently had the conversation with
his wife. Gentlemen, you may believe it; I do not; not a word of it.
He is mistaken. He has mistaken imagination for memory; he has mistaken
what Mr. Rerdell told him now for something he thinks happened long ago.
He took the letter-books, too. May be there is where he found some of
his strange names.
Rerdell says, in swearing to the letter which he says was written by
Dorsey to Bosler on the 13th of May, 1879, that he (S. W. Dorsey) took
that book, all his own books that were not used for the mail business,
and boxed them up. When? In 1879. Mr. Kellogg swears that after they
were boxed up they were sent to New York. When? In 1879. And yet Rerdell
swears that between Christmas and New Year's, 1879, those books were at
the house of Mr. Gibbs to be indexed. It will not do. And Rerdell swears
that he had the letter-book containing the letter of May 13, here in
1881, when he went to MacVeagh, and yet, according to his own testimony,
that book was sent to New York in 1879. And he swears that the three
letter-books--and I will call your attention to them after a while--that
he had here, commenced on the 15th of May, and ended, I think, in April
or May, 1882. He swears that the letter written by Dorsey to Bosler
was written on the 13th of May, 1879, and then he swears that the first
letter in the three letter-books was dated the 15th of May, two days
afterward. So he had not the book here. I knew he did not have it,
because if he had had such a book with such a letter, he never would
have gone to New York to steal a book; he would have stolen that one.
Torrey took charge of the books January 27, 1880, and he kept them until
the 1st of May, 1880, in the Boreel Building, and then at that time
moved to 145 Broadway, and kept them there until the last of April,
1882.
Now, gentlemen, I will come to those red books again in a moment. Here
is a little piece of evidence about the books. You know it was the
hardest thing in the world to find out how many books this man had, how
many times they were copied, who copied them, and what he did with the
copies; and he got us all mixed up--counsel for the prosecution, the
Court, counsel for the defence--none of us could understand it. "How
many books did you have? What did you do with them?" "Well, I took
them to New York. No, I did not; I had some of them here." Finally
I manufactured out of my imagination a carpet-sack for him. I said,
"Didn't you take these books over to New York in a carpet-sack?" He said
"Yes," he did. He jumped at that carpet-sack like a trout at a fly. Let
me call your attention to some other evidence, on page 2637, near the
bottom. Donnelly is testifying:
Q. Was it an exact copy of the book?--A. It was not.
Q. In what did it differ from the book you were keeping?--There were
some items left out.
Q. What accounts did you leave out?--A. I left the William Smith account
out.
Q. What did you do with that amount in order to balance the books?
Now, I want you to pay particular attention to this answer.
A. My recollection is that I carried it to profit and loss.
Q. On the books or on the balance sheet?--A. On both.
Now, remember, these were the books made out to fool the committee. I
suppose there are some book-keepers on this jury. I suppose Mr. Greene
knows something about book-keeping, and Mr. Evans, and Mr. Crane, and
Mr. Gill. I do not know but you all do. And you know that when you carry
an amount to profit and loss you do not throw the name away; you keep
the name. If you have charged against Robert G. Ingersoll five thousand
dollars, which you never expect to get, and you want to charge it to
profit and loss, you make the charge and you put my name against that.
You put profit and loss against Robert G. Ingersoll's debt. Everybody
that ever kept a book knows that. If you carry an amount to profit and
loss you rewrite the name of the person who owes the debt. So that when
he says, "My recollection is that I carried it to profit and loss,"
there would be a name twice in the book instead of once. If it was
simply in the book once it would be, "William Smith, debtor, eighteen
thousand dollars." But if you carry that to profit and loss you must
credit profit and loss by this William Smith amount, and consequently
get the name in the book twice instead of once. And that is what they
call covering it up. They were so afraid that somebody would see an
account against William Smith in one part of the book that they opened
another account in the profit and loss business and put it in again.
That would be twice. Now, let us go on a little:
Q. Were there any other accounts transferred in the same way?--A. I
rather think there were, but I am not certain.
Q. Did you make the books balance on your copy?--A. Yes, sir.
Q. How long were you working on that copy?--A. I was working on it two
evenings and all of one night.
Now, recollect, in the copy that he made, he carried the account of
William Smith--and may be Jones, he does not remember--to profit and
loss.
Now, let us take the next step. Let us go to page 2269. This is as good
as a play. Donnelly swears that when he made the first copy he carried
the William Smith account and some other to profit and loss. Rerdell
swears that acting upon the hint of General Brady he got a man to
do--what? To make another copy and leave out the items that had
heretofore been charged to profit and loss. Donnelly swears that he
balanced the books, and he is the only man that ever did balance the
books, according to the testimony. After Rerdell had been subpoenaed to
appear before the Congressional committee, he got another man, whom he
swears he put to work on the books, designating the entries to be left
out by drawing a pencil mark through them; that he told him to make up
a new set of books, leaving out those entries, but to leave the books so
that they would balance, taking the entries that were stricken out, and
also the same amount that had been carried to profit and loss, and leave
them entirely out. Rerdell swears that prior to that time these accounts
had been carried to profit and loss, and that he struck out the credits
to Dorsey.
Then the evidence as it stands is this: Rerdell swears that Mrs. Gibbs
copied the journal and ledger. Gibbs does not swear it, but Rerdell
does. That made four books. Then he got Donnelly to make another set of
books with the William Smith and Dorsey accounts carried to profit and
loss.
That is six books. After he had been subpoenaed by the committee he got
another man to make a new set of books and leave out the William Smith
and Dorsey accounts and the profit and loss account, and that makes
eight books. And there we are, so far as that is concerned.
Now, gentlemen, I have come to one other view of this case. I hope
that you will not forget--because I do not want to speak of it all the
time--that this man Rerdell swears that he had the original letter-press
copy of that letter which he says Dorsey wrote to Bosler. Do not forget
that. He says he had that before he went to New York to steal the red
books; do not forget that. And that he gave that testimony away; do not
forget that. That he says he had it copied by Miss White, and they do
not introduce Miss White to show that she copied it; do not forget that.
Do not forget, too, that he had when he was there the tabular statement
in the handwriting of S. W. Dorsey.
Mr. Ingersoll. [Resuming.] Gentlemen, on page 2286 Mr. Rerdell gives
the contents of a letter which he says Dorsey wrote to him the night he,
Rerdell, left New York, and when he says he had the book with him. He
swears, you remember, that afterwards Dorsey tore the letter up. Let me
read you the letter as he says it was written:
The letter started out by stating that he did not believe the report
that had been brought to him in reference to myself, and that he also
believed the affidavit story to be a lie. He plead in the letter for the
sake of his wife and children and himself, and his social and business
relations, and the friendship that had long existed between us not to do
anything for his injury; for God's sake to reconsider everything that I
had done and take no steps further until he could see me. It was in that
strain, simply begging me not to do anything further until he could see
me.
Now, let us analyze that letter, keeping in our minds what Rerdell has
sworn. Rerdell has sworn that when he went to the Albermarle Hotel he
told Dorsey what he had done; that he had had the conversations with
MacVeagh and James. Let me call your attention to the dispatch from
Jersey City. First, Dorsey wrote to Rerdell that he did not believe the
report that had been brought to him; _that had been brought to him_. He
could not have used that word "brought" if Rerdell had been the bringer.
If Rerdell had made the report to him in person he could not have
written to Rerdell, "I do not believe the report that has been brought
to me." The use of the word "brought" shows that somebody else told him;
not the person to whom he wrote. "The report." What report? There is
only one answer. The report that Rerdell had been in consultation with
the Government. He writes to Rerdell, "I don't believe that report
that has been brought to me," and yet when he wrote it, if Rerdell's
testimony is true, he knew that Rerdell had given him that very report
and he knew that Rerdell would know that he, Rerdell, had told Dorsey
that very thing. Second, that he, Dorsey'', believed the affidavit story
to be a lie. There is again in this horizon of falsehood one little
cloud of truth. Rerdell had not made an affidavit. He had told James,
MacVeagh, Woodward, and Clayton what you know, but he had not made
any affidavit, and when he was charged, if he was, with having made an
affidavit, it delighted him to have one little speck of truth, just one
thing that he could honestly deny. That was the one thing. He had not
yet made an affidavit. Third, Dorsey plead with him in the letter for
the sake of his wife, his children, himself, his social and business
relations, and the friendship that had long existed between them, not to
do what? Not to do anything further. According to Rerdell, he told him
in the letter he did not believe he had done anything. Rerdell swears
that he wrote to him in the letter that he did not believe the report;
that is, that he had yet done anything, and then wound up the letter by
begging him, for God's sake, not to do anything _further_. How came he
to use the word "further"? "Don't take any further steps. I know that
you have not taken any step at all, but do not, I pray you, take any
further steps." That letter will not hang together. Dorsey swears he
never wrote it. Finally, the letter comes down to this: "I don't believe
the report. I do not believe you have done anything. But, for God's
sake, do not do anything more." It is like the old Scotch verdict when a
man was tried for larceny. The jury found him not guilty, but stated at
the end of the verdict, "We hope the defendant will never do so again."
The first part of this letter shows that Dorsey did not believe that he
had done anything. The last part of it shows that he did believe he had
done something and that he must not go further. No one can tell why
he introduced the word "further" into this letter upon any other
hypothesis. Now, I read to you, from page 2287, what Rerdell says
happened at the Albermarle Hotel:
He charged me with holding interviews with Mr. James, the
Postmaster-General, and the Attorney-General, and asked me what I meant
by it. I told him my action was in his behalf; that I had been keeping
up with the newspapers, and knowing the facts in regard to this mail
business, what I had done was done in his behalf.
That is, he did not deny that he had these conversations, did not deny
the report, did not deny that he had met the Attorney-General and the
Postmaster-General, but said:
My action was in your behalf.
And then, according to Rerdell, after that Dorsey wrote him a letter, in
which he said, "I do not believe the report," although Rerdell had made
the report to him himself. May be that is the reason he did not believe
it.
Now, let me read to you the conversation on his return from New York and
see how it agrees with the letter. It is on page 2288:
Mr. Dorsey immediately brought up the conversation that we had had over
in New York, and what I had done by going to Mr. Mac-Veagh, and asked me
if I intended to ruin him. I said no, I did not; it was not my intention
to ruin him; it was my intention to help him out of what I thought to be
a bad difficulty.
Q. What did he say?--A. He then asked me if I had done anything further
since I had left him.
Yet in the letter that he wrote him from the Albermarle Hotel he said
that he did not believe the report and did not believe that he had done
anything against him. The first thing he asked him when he got here was,
"Have you done anything further against me?"
I said no, I had not; I had not been near Mr. MacVeagh. He then says,
"Well, how shall we get out of this?" I says. "Mr. Dorsey, I will do
anything that I can except to commit perjury."
A very natural remark for Mr. Rerdell to make. He would do anything
but that. That testimony shows that Dorsey never wrote the letter which
Rerdell says he did write from New York. That testimony shows that they
did not have the conversation in New York that Rerdell says they had.
That testimony shows that they did have exactly the conversation which
Mr. Dorsey swears they had.
Now, I come, gentlemen, to the affidavit of June 20,1881. I would like
the letter of July 5, 1882, which is on page 3733.
You understand this affidavit was made in consequence of the
conversation, as he says, that he had with Dorsey after Dorsey came
back from New York, in which he said he would do anything except commit
perjury, and when Dorsey told him, "Damn it, what does that amount to
when a friend is involved? I would not hesitate a moment." Consequently
he swears that he made up his mind for the sake of friendship to swear
to a lie for Mr. Dorsey. That is what he says now. On the 5th of July,
1882, while we were in the midst of the other trial, and when Mr.
Rerdell, as he says, contemplated going over to the Government, and when
he would not put evidence in our hands against himself, he wrote this
letter:
July 5, 1882.
Senator: What I am going to say here may surprise you, while, judging
from certain circumstances that to me are easily to be seen, you may not
be taken by surprise.
To commence with this, it will be necessary to go back about a year
to the time when, looking forward to the inevitable result of the
star-route matters--I started to put myself in accord with the
Government. At that time I had no thought of being included in any
prosecution or indictment, supposing that as an agent I could not be
held criminally responsible. Had I for one moment thought it possible
nothing could have changed my mind, even anxious as I was to benefit
you. The consequence was, I listened to Bosler and did what I will
ever regret. First, because of the unenviable notoriety given me in
consequence of doing what he persuaded me to do.
Who persuaded him? Mr. Bosler. He writes that on the 5th of July, 1882,
when, as he said, he had made up his mind to go over to the Government,
and when he would not willingly put a club in our hands with which to
dash out his brains.
Second, because, let this case go as it may, I am still left under a
cloud--That is a pitiable statement. That man under a cloud!--both with
your friends and acquaintances, and the public generally.
Here comes, gentlemen, the blossom and flower of this paragraph:
And that, too, almost penniless.
Then the letter goes on:
These are stern facts, and cannot be ignored, while had I continued
acting with the Government my reputation would have been clear, and no
doubt been appointed to a good position.
The Government must have promised the gentleman an office when he went,
in June, 1881, to Woodward and to Clayton and to the Attorney-General
and to the Postmaster-General. According to this letter, among
other things he was to have an office, the steamboat route was to be
reinstated, the Jennings' claim was to be allowed, his father-in law was
to get a clerkship, and according to this letter he also was to have a
position. That is civil service reform! What does he say?
At least I have every reason to believe such would have been the result.
He would have had an office, he has every reason to believe. Why? They
must have promised it to him.
This now brings us to the present time. I have an opportunity to redeem
myself, and think it best to do so, as by so doing I can be entirely
relieved of the indictment.
The Government then must have promised him in 1882 that the indictment
should be dismissed as against him. Is it possible that he would tell a
lie, gentlemen? Is it possible the prosecution will say that he lied on
the 13th of July, 1882, but in 1883, having met with a change of heart,
he told the truth? No.
In taking this step let me say this: It is the result of much thought
and also of preparation.