M. Bertillon was succeeded on the witness-stand by M. G. A. Hubbard,
representing Seine-et-Oise in the chamber of deputies.
_Testimony of M. G. A. Hubbard._
He testified as follows:
“On November 15 my cousin, M. Alphonse Bertillon, came to see me,
after having previously made an appointment with me, desiring to inform
me concerning certain details of his expert examination of handwriting,
and especially concerning the _bordereau_ that had appeared in ‘Le
Matin’ a few days before. I was very willing to listen to what he
had to say, especially as he made no secret of the matter, and was
trying to plant in me the germ of an opinion on matters under public
discussion. He gave me a long explanation, which you already know in
part from his testimony, but which I did not quite comprehend in all
its details, of his plan, his scheme, his comparisons of handwriting,
which led him very clearly to the opinion that the original of the
_bordereau_ was a tracing from a writing of Dreyfus. He told me that
he had had other documents in his hands which had enabled him, by the
fitting of margins and other mathematical deductions, to see that this
was the only possible conclusion, and he told me that I need not be
disturbed by anything that I might hear during the trial. I was left
under this impression, and, after that, wherever I found myself, and
whenever the matter came up, I made haste to give the opinion that he
had given to me and the reasons therefor. When the newspaper published
the first _fac-simile_ of the _bordereau_, then attributed to M.
Esterhazy, I remembered the conversation with my cousin, and applied
for myself to the handwriting of Major Esterhazy the observations made
to me by my cousin upon the _bordereau_ of which he had brought me the
photograph. Immediately it appeared to me that the differences which
Bertillon had pointed out to me between the _bordereau_ and the writing
of Dreyfus disappeared upon comparison with the writing of Esterhazy.
“I was much agitated; so I went to my cousin, and said to him: ‘You
came to me in 1896, at the time of the Castelin interpellation, to
tell me that you were sure that the _bordereau_ was a tracing from a
writing of Dreyfus. Yet here is a writing which seems to me to be that
of Esterhazy. I beg you, on your soul and conscience, to make once more
the application of your system. After having brought me so decided an
opinion previously, you cannot now leave me in doubt, in view of the
new charge against a certain Esterhazy.’ Straightway my cousin said to
me: ‘I don’t want to see the handwriting; I don’t want to see it. I
know it. It is Esterhazy’s. I know that Esterhazy is the Jews’ man of
straw, and he will finally confess it. The _bordereau_ is not dated or
signed. It would not be a forgery or a swindle, and thus it is hoped to
get out of the affair. But I don’t want to see the writing. Besides,
there can be, there must be, no revision. A revision would mean civil
revolution. The people would go down into the streets. There would be
riot. There must be no revision.’
“I answered: ‘That is politics. One may hold that opinion, but it is
not scientific criticism; it is not a scientific expert examination
based upon a verification of documents. I remember what you told me
a year ago. I marked the gravity of your words. You told me, when
you came back from the war department with your demonstration, that
they would not allow you to testify in a certain way, saying to you:
“Your demonstration would tend to the acquittal of Dreyfus.” And now
you say that you will not look into the question of handwriting.’ But
he still refused to make the comparison, and even added,--I remember
that his wife was present at the interview,--‘There are moments when
the prefects of police tell you to speak, and there are others when
they tell you to be silent.’ I understood that ‘the moments when the
prefects of police tell you to speak’ referred to the evening of
November, 1896, when he came to me to make his demonstration. I have
always been on most friendly terms with my cousin. I have always had
the highest esteem for his character, and anything which he could say
to me was calculated to carry conviction. But I must say that, as much
as I was attached at first to the idea that there was certain proof
that the writing of the _bordereau_ was a tracing from the writing
of Dreyfus, I later saw that there was reason to doubt, and that
the writing of Esterhazy bore a resemblance to it that could not be
attributed simply to chance. The incidents that have occurred since in
the chamber and in the senate troubled me much. Then came the partial
closed doors of the Esterhazy trial, and the failure to reveal to the
public the testimony of the experts, which I especially awaited in
order to compare it with what my cousin had said, and my trouble became
only the greater. And when, in the chamber, M. Jaurès asked the prime
minister if a secret document had been communicated, I considered that
the silence of the government gave consent. General Iung, my friend
and colleague in the chamber, entertained the same distrust, and
very squarely declared that the conduct of the war offices had been
abominable.”
_Testimony of M. Yves Guyot._
The witness-stand was then taken by M. Yves Guyot, who testified
concerning a lesson in expert examination of handwriting which he had
received from M. Bertillon.
“M. Bertillon told me that there were two kinds of
handwriting,--sinistrogyrate and dextrogyrate. It seems that
in sinistrogyrate writing the loops turn to the left, while in
dextrogyrate writing the curves and loops turn to the right. I confess
that today it would be as impossible for me to tell one from the other
as it was before I received the lesson. Then I said to M. Bertillon:
‘Well, when you compared the incriminated document with the writing
of the accused, you doubtless found that the two documents were in
the sinistrogyrate writing?’ ‘Not at all,’ said he; ‘the writing of
the accused is dextrogyrate, while that of the incriminated document
is sinistrogyrate; but I saw by certain contractions of the pen that
the accused had disguised his handwriting, changing his dextrogyrate
writing into sinistrogyrate writing.’ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘it is not
because of identity of writing that you attribute the document to the
accused, but because of a difference in writing.’ ‘Yes,’ he said. I
answered that I was surprised that he should make such a declaration
on such a basis. ‘Pardon me,’ said he, ‘I did not conduct the
examination. I proposed that other means should be employed. I said,
for instance, that a chemical composition could be put in the inkstand
of the accused, and if, after that, a document was found, a test with
the chemical reagent would show whether the document was written with
ink from that inkstand. I also indicated four or five other ways of
determining whether the accused was guilty, but they did not follow my
advice. I simply gave my opinion, declaring that a document written in
a sinistrogyrate writing must be the work of a man whose writing is
dextrogyrate.’”
M. Guyot was then asked his opinion of M. Zola’s good faith. He
answered:
“Gentlemen, I have a very clear opinion of my own, and this opinion I
share with the intellectual _élite_ of France. Moreover, as I was a
member of the cabinet for three years, I am more or less intimate with
_personnel_ of the departments. Well, there I find many men who do
not hesitate to say in private conversation that the Esterhazy trial
was a parody on justice. And not only do these persons believe in M.
Zola’s good faith, but so do many foreigners--specialists and men of
science--with whom I am in relations. The truth is known beyond our
frontiers, and will be appreciated there, though we stifle it here. In
foreign countries the military officers and the diplomatists understand
the Esterhazy case exactly.”
_Testimony of M. Teyssonnière._
The next witness was M. Teyssonnière, who, as one of the experts in
handwriting connected with the Seine court, served in the Dreyfus case
of 1894, but, a few days before the trial, was stricken from the list
of experts, in consequence of a charge that in another case he had
called on one of the parties thereto for a payment of 2,000 francs
before beginning his report. He told at length of his troubles at that
time, and said that before the first council of war he had demonstrated
mathematically that the _bordereau_ was written by Dreyfus, he having
found that certain words in it were identical with the handwriting of
Dreyfus. Later he called upon M. Trarieux, who was then minister of
justice, by whose intercession he was enrolled as one of the experts of
the appellate court.
“It was on this occasion,” said M. Teyssonnière, “that I spoke of the
Dreyfus case to M. Trarieux, and afterwards to M. Scheurer-Kestner,
to whom he sent me. M. Scheurer-Kestner told me in June, 1897, that
he had conceived doubts concerning the guilt of Dreyfus, and that he
would like me to give him light. I brought to him the photograph of
the _bordereau_, and demonstrated by a comparison of handwritings
that the guilt of Dreyfus was certain. He seemed convinced. On July
9 he sent for me again, and showed me originals of the handwriting
of Dreyfus and Esterhazy, and we compared them with the _bordereau_.
I called his attention to entire syllables in the _bordereau_ which
were exact tracings of the handwriting of Dreyfus. M. Scheurer-Kestner
then told me that he had had occasion to call upon the staff since
my first visit, and that they had said to him: ‘Don’t talk to us of
Teyssonnière; he is a thief. It was the testimony of Bertillon that
convicted Dreyfus.’ Nevertheless, I have made twenty-five decisive
comparisons with the handwriting of Dreyfus, and these comparisons
reveal five complete superpositions. There is no doubt; it is a case of
identity.”
The witness then told of his relations with another expert, M.
Crépieux-Jamin, who had been asked by M. Bernard Lazare to examine the
_bordereau_.
“I received a visit,” said the witness, “from M. Crépieux-Jamin. I
remember it only too well, for he came on a day when I had just cut
myself to the bone with a table-knife. As he is a doctor, I was not
sorry to see him. He attended me professionally for several days, and
during that time we naturally talked of the Dreyfus case. I told him
that the _fac-similes_ of the _bordereau_ published in the newspapers
were very rough pieces of work, and calculated to deceive the public.
He tried to inspire me with doubts as to my own conclusions. Not until
the last day did I perceive the purpose of his questions. One evening,
suddenly, he asked me how much I had received for my report. ‘Two
hundred francs, I believe,’ said I. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘you could have
had a hundred thousand.’ ‘But, my dear friend,’ said I, ‘you know that
I was formerly connected with the department of roads and bridges, and
that I have a pension of 4-1/2 francs a day. My little house is mine;
I have lived in it honorably, and I wish to die in it honorably.’ This
convinced me that M. Crépieux-Jamin had come to sound me.”
M. Zola.--“At the time of your report in 1894 had you been offered
money?”