The brownish tint of old age which paper needs to help out a fraud is obtained in various ways—sometimes by steeping in a weak solution of coffee, but in other cases by holding it before a bright hot fire. This latter device is, fortunately, not easy of accomplishment, considerable care, judgment and even luck being needed to ensure a satisfactory result. In our own case we have failed persistently in the attempt, the paper becoming tinted so unequally as to excite remark at first sight.
All the old pattern of letter paper was almost uniform in size—post quarto, and the watermark is invariably very distinct, explainable by the fact that the art of close weaving the wire mould was not then brought to its present state of perfection.
The watermarks are very fairly imitated by means of a pointed stick dipped in a solution of spermaceti and linseed oil melted in water and stirred till cold; or, equal quantities of turpentine and Canada balsam shaken together. The same result may be obtained by the use of megilp, a mixture employed by artists.
The detection of this watermark fraud is simple and infallible. If the suspected document be moistened with lukewarm water the spurious watermark disappears immediately, but if genuine, it becomes plainer.
The worn and dingy appearance inseparable from age in a letter is accentuated by rubbing it lightly with a dirty duster. The effect is usually obvious under a strong glass, the passage of the dirty cloth revealing itself in minute parallel lines.
Very little care is needed to distinguish between paper that has been taken from books and the genuine letter paper of the period. To begin with, such letters are always on single sheets. In genuine cases, the sheet is as often as not a folio of four pages. In the majority of cases the bogus sheet is of no recognised size. If taken from a book larger than post quarto, it has had to be cut to conceal the tear. This operation has made an irregular sized sheet—too small for post quarto, too large for the next size. In the genuine writing paper, all four edges are usually rough like those of a bank note. If the sheet has been abstracted from a book, one edge must have been cut or trimmed.
Again, such paper is of unequal thickness, the writing paper of the period being much smoother and finer than the printing paper, while in parts it is almost certain the ink has run, as it does on a coarse, absorbent paper. This is a sure sign that the paper is printing and not writing.
Further, such paper is certain to show signs of wear at the bottom edges where they have been handled and exposed, while that part of the page which has been closest to the inside edge of the cover is generally cleaner, and shows less sign of wear. In many cases the impression of the book binding is plainly visible.
A careful examination and comparison of a few sheets of genuine letter paper of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries with the blank leaves found in printed books will reveal differences so marked that mistake is scarcely possible afterwards.
It often occurs that grease marks interrupt the forger. Knowing that he cannot write over them, and that they are hardly likely to have existed on the paper when it was new, and when the letter was supposed to be written, he avoids them. The result becomes apparent in unequal spacing of words and even letters.
On one occasion a really excellent forgery, which had successfully withstood all the tests we had applied, had its real character revealed by a curious oversight on the part of the forger.
It was an early seventeenth century document, and our attention was arrested by a peculiar uniform smudgy appearance, such as results from blotting with a hard, unabsorbent, much-worn sheet of blotting paper. At the period of the presumed date of this document blotting paper was unknown, writings being dried by means of a specially prepared fine powder called pounce, sand, or a powder containing fine crystals of metal intended to give an ornamental gloss to the ink. Close examination under the microscope revealed the truth. There were no signs of pounce or any other drying powder, the crystals of which are usually plain to the unassisted eye, but there were distinct signs of the fibre of the blotting paper left in the ink.
Another forgery we discovered through the presence in the centre of the sheet of paper of a very faint square outline which enclosed a slight discolouration. The sheet had, as usual, been removed from a book, and the square outline was a faint impression of a book-plate which had been affixed to the opposite page. The discolouration was caused by the ink on the book-plate.
It should be superfluous to have to remind intelligent and educated persons that it is necessary for a collector of old documents to make himself familiar with the peculiarities, habits and customs of the period in whose literary curiosities he is dealing. Yet fact compels the admission that extraordinary laxity and even ignorance exist on these points. We are acquainted with a collector, by no means uneducated, who gave a good price for a letter purporting to be by Sir Humphrey Davy, the inventor of the miners' safety lamp, enclosed in an envelope. He was ignorant of the fact that envelopes were unknown until 1840, thirty years later than the date of this particular letter. Envelopes supposed to have been addressed by Dickens have been offered for sale and purchased, bearing postage stamps not in circulation at the period.
One would imagine that a forger would pay sufficient attention to his materials to be on his guard against the blunder which earned the perpetrator of the Whalley Will Forgery penal servitude. He put forward a will dated 1862, written on paper bearing in a plain watermark the date 1870! Another indiscreet person asked the Court to accept a will written and signed with an aniline copying pencil, but dated years before that instrument had been invented.
Both the works by Dr. Scott and Mr. Davies, given in the list, show samples of watermarks of the various periods affected by forgers of literary documents.
Examination for determining whether a writing has been done at one time, or added to later, necessitates some acquaintance with the nature and qualities of ink. In the ordinary case the assistance of a chemist is necessary, but an enlarged photograph shows up minute differences with amazing accuracy.
In the majority of instances alterations are made some time after the original has been written, in which case a difference in the shade of the ink will be perceptible, even to the unassisted eye. This is particularly true when the now almost universal blue-black ink is used.
The period required for an addition to become as black as the older writing depends very much upon the character of the paper. If this be smooth and hard, and the writing has not been dried with blotting paper, but allowed to dry naturally and slowly, it will become black much quicker than if the paper be rough and of an absorbent nature.
A fairly reliable test is to touch a thick stroke of the suspected addition with a drop of diluted muriatic acid—as much as will cling to the point of a pin. Apply the drop to the suspected addition and to the older writing at the same moment, and carefully watch the result. The newer writing will become faint and watery, with a bluish tinge almost instantly, but the change will be slower in the case of the older writing, taking ten or even twenty seconds. The longer the period required for the change, the older the writing.
This same acid test is applied to prove whether a writing is in ordinary ink, or has been lithographed or photographed. If the two latter, the acid will have no effect.
On more than one occasion collectors have purchased as original autographs of celebrities which proved to have been lithographed or photographed, but the persons so deceived have generally been inexperienced amateurs.
When the difference between a written and printed signature has been once noticed it is hardly likely that an observant person will be deceived. It is, however, as well to be carefully on guard against this contingency, for modern photography and process printing have been brought to such a degree of imitative perfection that it is easy for a not too keen-eyed person to experience great difficulty in forming an opinion in the absence of the acid test. Fortunately that is infallible.
It must, however, be admitted that up to the present no great success has attended efforts to determine how long an interval has passed between the writing of the original and the suspected addition. Broadly speaking, the most that the expert can hope to gain from an examination of ink under these circumstances are hints, clues and suggestions rather than definite, reliable facts. Fortunately it often occurs that a suggestion so obtained proves of immense value to the trained or careful observer, though it might convey no conviction to others.
As in the case of nearly all deductive reasoning the handwriting expert becomes sensitive to slight suggestions. If called upon, as he sometimes is, to explain to others how and why one of these slight and almost imperceptible signs fit in with his theory, he fails. Therefore the cautious expert, like a good judge, is careful in giving reasons for his judgment only to cite those which are self-evident.
Many an expert has made a poor exhibition in the witness-box by failing to convey to a jury the impression produced on his own mind by a slight piece of evidence, the proper understanding and interpretation of which can only be grasped by those who have learned how to recognize faint signs.
The process of chemically testing inks for the purpose of ascertaining the points mentioned is quite simple, and is distinctly interesting. In a very important case the services of a qualified chemist will probably be requisitioned, but the cost of the necessary material and the time required to make oneself proficient as a capable tester are so slight that even the small fee that would be charged by a chemist is scarcely worth paying.
The materials necessary are a few test tubes, some bottles of lime water, diluted muriatic acid, a solution of nitrate of silver in distilled water, in the proportion of ten grains to the ounce, some camel hair pencils, and clean white blotting and litmus paper. The whole need not cost more than half-a-crown.
The method of using these materials is best illustrated by describing a test often needed by autograph collectors.
A very common method employed by forgers to give an appearance of age to the ink used in spurious old documents is to mix with ordinary ink, muriatic acid, oxalic acid, or binoxalate of potash. The presence of these colouring agents can be detected in the following manner.
In the first place, washing the letter with cold water will make the ink become darker if acid has been used to brown the ink, but the following test will settle the point beyond dispute:
With a camel's-hair brush wash the letter over with warm water. If, as sometimes happens, a sort of paint or coloured indian ink has been used, this will be immediately washed away and disappear, leaving a rusty smudge. If not, apply the litmus paper to the wetted ink, and the presence of acid will be shown in the usual way by the litmus paper changing colour. If genuine, wetting makes no difference.
Next, pour a drop or two of the water from the writing into a test tube from off the letter, add a little distilled water and one or two drops of the nitrate of silver solution.
If muriatic acid has been used to colour the ink, a thick white precipitate will be seen in the tube immediately.
If not, pour a few more drops of the water which has been washed over the writing into a second test tube, add a little distilled water and a few drops of lime water. A white precipitate will be seen in the tube if either oxalic acid or binoxalate of potash has been employed.
In many cases it will be sufficient to place the tip of the tongue to a thick stroke. An unmistakable acid taste will be noticed.
Further and fuller particulars of the methods resorted to by forgers to simulate ancient documents will be given in the chapter on Autographs.
It is sometimes important to know whether a stroke has been made over another, as in the famous case in which the real issue turned on the question whether an apparent alteration in a signature was really a pen-mark made to indicate where the signatory should sign. It was obvious that if the mark was made first the signature would be over it; if, as was suggested, the mark was added in an attempt to alter or touch up the signature, it must have been written over the signature.
In cases of this kind an enlarged photograph leaves no room for doubt. The ink is seen lying over the lower stroke as plainly as a layer of paint in a picture can be seen overlying the stroke beneath.
This is one of those apparently difficult points which become marvellously simple when dealt with in a practical manner.
Pages might be needed to explain what a very simple experiment will reveal at a glance.
Take a word which has been written long enough for the ink to have become dry, and make a stroke across it. For example, make a letter t without the bar, then, after a lapse of an hour or two, add the cross bar. When this is quite dry and has become as dark as the first mark, examine it with a good glass. The ink of the added bar will be seen plainly overlaying the vertical stroke, but any doubt can be promptly removed by taking an enlarged photograph.
Even when the second stroke is added while the ink on the first is still wet the upper stroke can be distinguished, though not so clearly as if the first stroke had been allowed to dry first.
By practising and examining such strokes, the student will soon learn to distinguish important signs which leave no doubt as to which stroke was first made.
The alteration of the figures and amount written on a cheque is generally effected by erasure. At one time chemicals were used for this purpose, but fortunately the modern cheque is forgery-proof in this respect. No means are known to chemists by which ordinary writing can be removed from a cheque without leaving a sign too pronounced to escape detection.
But even erasure on a cheque is extremely difficult, and the experienced eye of the average bank teller can detect it in the vast majority of cases. Frauds perpetrated by this means are very rare, and are usually the result of gross carelessness on the part of the person accepting the document so altered.
The more frequent form of cheque fraud is effected by adding to such words as six, seven, eight and nine. The addition of ty and y is all that is necessary. But the ordinarily careful business man never leaves sufficient blank space between his words to admit of this addition, while there are few bank tellers who do not carefully scrutinise a cheque made out for these larger amounts.
It may be accepted as a satisfactory fact that cheque forgery is not only extremely difficult, but rarely successful. Great frauds are usually perpetrated by means of other instruments, such as bills of exchange, credit notes, &c.
An erasure is the easiest thing to detect if looked for. To begin with it is only necessary to hold a scratched document to the light to have the alteration revealed.
Erasing must of necessity remove part of the surface of the paper which is made noticeably thinner at the spot erased.
In nearly every case the writing that has been added to the erasure is blurred, owing to the rough and absorbent character of the paper. Expert forgers have devised means of counteracting this by rubbing in some substance which partially restores the original smoothness and mitigates the blurred appearance. But such devices ought not to be successful for they are so easily detected.
As a matter of fact the only chance the forger of an erased cheque has lies in the carelessness of the teller. Any crowding of words and unequal spacing in the filling up of a cheque ought to excite suspicion and provoke careful and closer scrutiny, and, it may be added, it generally does.
The addition of letters intended to increase the value of a number, such as the adding of ty to six or seven, is easy of detection if properly looked for.
It is safe to assume that the addition has been made long after the original word was written, and the point of junction can be detected by the aid of a good glass.
Had the word been originally written sixty, the chances are that there would be no perceptible break between the x and the t. Few persons write such short words in a disconnected manner. On placing the word under an ordinary glass the point of junction will be plainly apparent, and a microscope, or an enlarged photograph, cannot fail to reveal the fraud. Of course these latter tests will not be possible under the ordinary circumstances attending the paying out of a cheque over the counter, but when once the peculiarities of such alterations have been studied, it is marvellous how quick the eye becomes in recognizing them at a glance.
Erasure in writings on stout thick paper is not quite so readily noticed as those on thin paper such as cheques; but the same methods of examination will apply—holding the document to the light, or level with and horizontal to the eye. A very effective application of the latter test is to bend or curve the paper, making an arch. The bending has a tendency to stretch and widen the erased part, and if any smoothing substance such as starch or wax has been added to restore the gloss of the scraped portion, it will usually reveal itself by separating and coming away in dust or tiny flakes. This process may be accentuated by drawing the suspected document over a ruler, or, better still, a pencil, repeating the motion several times.
It is obvious that writing executed with a pencil or the now much-used stylograph will differ in many respects from that performed by an ordinary pen. It is not too much to say that their use will eliminate many features and introduce new ones. This change is mainly brought about by the different way in which a pencil or stylograph is held in comparison with a pen. There is a much greater sense of freedom. The pencil can be, and is, turned and twisted in the process of making a stroke as a pen cannot be, and the signs of this freedom become apparent in a more rounded stroke. Even a writer whose characters are acutely angular shows a tendency to a more graceful outline. As a matter of fact, it is comparatively rare to meet a pencilled writing that is pronouncedly angular.
The same remarks apply with only little modification to writing produced by the stylograph, and for the same reason—the ease and freedom with which the instrument is held.
There is no possibility of mistaking writing produced by a stylograph for that of an ordinary steel nib. The strokes are absolutely uniform in thickness. No nib-formed writing can be so, for it is impossible for a writer, however careful, to avoid putting pressure on his pen at some point; and the opening of the nib, however slight, must produce an apparent thickening.
Therefore, recognising these facts, the expert is always extremely careful in giving an opinion upon a writing produced by pencil or stylo unless he have ample specimens of the writer's productions done with these instruments.
At the same time, although an absence of characteristics present in pen writing would be noticeable, the main features would exist: for example, the space between words and letters would be the same; the dot over the i would be in its customary position; the bar of the t would be of the same type as heretofore. The principal changes would be in the direction of a more uniform stroke with a tendency to greater rotundity.
Persons who habitually employ the stylo very frequently develop an unconscious habit of twisting the pen at certain points so as to form a deep, rounded dot. This occurs principally at the ends of words and strokes. A magnifying-glass reveals this peculiarity at once, and, when discovered, notice should be taken of the circumstances under which this twisting is usually done. It will be found, most probably, that the trick is uniform; that is, certain letters or strokes are mostly finished with the dot.
There is a well-known public character who for years has employed no other writing instrument but the stylo. His writing possesses one peculiarity which is so habitual that in four hundred examples examined it was absent in only five. He forms this twist dot at the end of the last letter at the end of every line. The inference and explanation is that, in raising the pen to travel back to the next line, he twists it with a backward motion in harmony with the back movement. Another trick is to make the same dot in words on which he appears to have halted or hesitated before writing the next. In every such case there is an extra wide space between the word ended by a dot and that which follows. It would appear as if the writer mechanically made the dot while pausing to choose the next word. This is a striking example of the unconscious hand-gesture.
Something akin to it occurs in the handwriting of a famous lawyer. Here and there in his letters will be noticed a faint, sloping, vertical stroke, like a figure 1. Those who have seen him write explain it thus. While hesitating in the choice of a word he moves his pen up and down over the paper, and unintentionally touches it. It is such slips as these which often supply the expert with valuable clues to identity. When they occur they should be carefully examined, for in the majority of cases a reason will be found for their presence.
That mischievous and cowardly form of secret attack, the anonymous letter, demands, unfortunately, a large amount of attention from the handwriting expert. One of the most pleasant rewards that can attend the conscientious and painstaking student of handwriting lies in the knowledge that his art may sometimes enable him to bring to deserved punishment the assassin of reputation and domestic happiness.
It is a moot point, which has been discussed by legal authorities, as to whether the handwriting expert is justified in tendering evidence and opinions of a kind that may be said to belong by right to the criminal investigator. By this is meant that the expert should not be allowed to point out to a jury such pieces of circumstantial evidence as the similarity of the paper used by the suspected person with other found in his possession; that he ought not to direct attention to postmarks, coincidence of dates, similarity of ink used, the employment of certain words and phrases, and other external and indirect clues that point to the authorship. It is urged that the whole duty of the expert is to say whether in his opinion two or more writings are by the same hand or not, and any expression of opinion outside this question is ultra vires.
The obvious answer to this objection is that it is impossible to limit the expert in the selection of those points which appeal to and assist him in forming an opinion. It is impossible to say what may or may not suggest a valuable clue to a keen observer; and as the expert is often called upon to give reasons for his opinion he is quite justified in indicating the steps by which he arrived at it.
These circumstances arise more often in connection with anonymous letters than with ordinary signature forgeries, for the field of exploration and the material examined are so much larger. Details become invaluable. The quality and make of the paper used, or a peculiar method of folding and placing it in the envelope may afford a clue that will put the expert on the high road to an important discovery. It is impossible to say how or where a clue may lurk. The torn edge of a postage stamp once supplied a hint that was followed up successfully. A smudge on the envelope, that matched a similar one on a packet of envelopes in the writing case of a person quite unsuspected, led to conviction, as did a number of an address that was crossed out and rewritten, the anonymous writer having, by force of habit, begun with the number he was in the habit of writing—his own.
In short, the expert has, nolens volens, to assume many of the functions of the crime investigator in dealing with apparent trifles, and even if they do not always help him in reaching his goal, they provide material for exercising the useful art of observation. Strictly speaking the expert should, perhaps, ignore all outside suggestions as to the authorship, and confine himself to saying whether or not the specimens submitted are in the same handwriting; but in practice this will be found extremely difficult, if not impossible, for the student cannot shut his eyes to the accidental clues that invariably arise in the examination of the evidence, and almost before he realizes it, the most cautious expert finds himself trespassing upon ground that by right should be the preserve of the detective.
The points raised here may, however, be safely left to be dealt with by the judgment of the student as they arise. In the early stages of study they will probably not present themselves with the same force and frequency as later on, when they will be appreciated as providing useful private pointers for guidance; and though at times they may put the inexperienced student upon a false scent, he will have no difficulty in detecting his error if, when in doubt, he follows the principles laid down for the comparison of handwriting.
The first step to the examination of the anonymous letter consists in procuring as many suspects as possible, which, as before advised, should be lettered or numbered and put aside, until the original, which in this case is the anonymous letter, has been studied and mastered. The external evidence of which so much has already been said may or may not be looked for.
Next proceed with the examination and comparison of the writings. It is presumed that the student has prepared his notes of the peculiarities of the original; he has now to search for them in the suspects. Suppose he begins with the spurs and beards, having found them well marked in the original. He will take any one of the suspects and examine it for a repetition of the same signs. He may follow on with the rest of the suspects, taking advantage of his memory being fresh on this point, or he may prefer to exhaust one suspect of all its evidences before proceeding with another; but practice and experience will decide the best course in this matter, and influence the line of procedure.
Whatever method is pursued, all have the same object—the discovery of the peculiarities of the original in one or more of the suspects, and the student will be wise if he follow accurately the course laid down in the chapter on "How to Examine a Writing."
It is generally safe to take it for granted that the writing in an anonymous letter is disguised. There are occasions when the author persuades another person to write for him, but only rarely; for the perpetrator of a contemptible act is not usually brazen and indiscreet enough to expose himself to others. The same reasons lend strength to the presumption that the writing will, so far as its general appearance goes, be as much the opposite of the author's usual style as his ingenuity can make it. The extreme back hand occurs very frequently. It seems to be the first impulse of the anonymous writer to avoid the right slope. Even when the normal hand is a vertical, with a tendency to back hand, the extreme left slope is often chosen. Fortunately, the assumed back hand is one of the most transparent of disguises. If the student has practised it, he will not need to be reminded how difficult it is for a writer to conceal his mannerisms. By altering the slope he has only stretched and lengthened his outlines, and the expert soon learns to recognise them in their new form.
Another common disguise is the illiterate hand. This is quite as easy of detection. It is no easier for the practised and fluent writer to reproduce the shaky, irregular outlines of the illiterate, than it is for the speaker of pure and cultured English to imitate the coarse accent of the vulgar. However good the copy it always breaks down early, and the sudden and unconscious firm, clear and geometrically accurate stroke reveals the practised writer beneath the mask. Sometimes an accurately placed punctuation mark supplies the necessary clue, for when once the art of proper punctuation has been acquired it becomes almost automatic. Even experienced novelists are caught this way occasionally. They will introduce a letter, supposed to be the work of an illiterate character. The grammar and orthography suggest the idea, but the more difficult details of punctuation will be attended to, even to the apostrophe that marks the elided g in such words as "talkin'," "comin'," &c.
Very difficult and troublesome is the letter written throughout in imitation printed characters. The expert has to rely upon the curved lines, accidental punctuation marks and unpremeditated flourishes and hand-gestures; but, broadly speaking, such a letter is beyond the skill of the expert if unaided by accidental betrayal. If, as sometimes happens, the writer is ingenious enough to adopt an alphabet formed completely of straight lines and angles—an easy task—he may boast of having produced a detection-proof writing; that is, if characters formed with the aid of a rule can be called writing, for it defies detection, because there are none of the signs essential for comparison, and is less easy of identification than an incomplete skeleton. In the absence of external clues, an expert would refuse to do more than offer a very guarded opinion, and it would be wiser to decline to offer any comment whatever.
Another trick that has been resorted to by some persons is writing with the hand constricted by a tight-fitting glove. This produces a very effective disguise; but if the student will practise with the same impediment, he will discover many useful rules for guiding him on the road to penetrating this entanglement.
It should be remembered that the less control a writer has over his pen, the more likely is he unintentionally to revert to those forms to which he is habituated, for, left by itself, the hand steers the more familiar course. Disguise, alteration and variation on customary forms are the result of premeditation. When the mind is occupied more with the subject than the formation of characters, the latter naturally assume that shape to which the force of custom has bent them.
The collection of autographs, letters, and documents of literary and historical interest has for many years been a prominent feature in the collecting world, but at no time was the quest more keen or conducted on more systematic lines than to-day. The records of the leading sale rooms often supply matter for surprise, the prices asked and obtained for rare and choice specimens being such as to excite both wonder and amazement, sometimes tempered with scepticism.
It is, therefore, not surprising that this profitable and growing market should have attracted the fraudulent, for the prizes when won are generally of a substantial character, and amply repay the misapplied effort and ingenuity demanded.
The success which has attended too many of these frauds may be largely accounted for by the fact that in many cases the enthusiasm of the collector has outrun his caution.
Many a man famous for his astuteness in the pursuit of his ordinary business has allowed himself to fall an easy victim to the forger, thus exemplifying the familiar adage that we are easily persuaded to believe what we want to believe.
The recorded stories of some of the frauds perpetrated upon ardent and presumably judicious collectors read like the tales told so often of the triumph of the confidence trickster, and one marvels how a person of ordinary power of observation, to say nothing of experience, could fall a victim to a fraud requiring little perception to detect. The explanation doubtless lies in the direction indicated—the ardour of the pursuit, the pride and joy of possessing something that is absolutely unique.
The leading case—to use an expressive legal term—is that known as the Vrain-Lucas fraud, the principal victim of which was Mons. Chasles, probably the greatest of modern French geometricians, and one of the few foreign savants entitled to append the distinguishing mark of a F.R.S. of England.
Lucas was a half-educated frequenter, and nominal reading student of the great Parisian library, and for some years had dealt in autographs in a small way, the specimens he offered being undoubtedly genuine. Inspired by the collecting ardour and the apparent blind faith placed in him by M. Chasles, Lucas embarked upon a series of deceptions so impudent, that it is easy to sympathise with the defence put forward by his advocate at the trial, namely, that the fraud was so transparent that it could only be regarded as a freak.
In the period between the years 1861 and 1869, Lucas sold to his dupe the enormous number of 27,000 documents, every one a glaring fraud. They comprised letters purporting to have been written by such improbable authors as Abelard, Alcibiades, Alexander the Great to Aristotle, Cicero, Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, Sappho, Anacreon, Pliny, Plutarch, St. Jerome, Diocletian, Juvenal, Socrates, Pompey, and—most stupendous joke of all—Lazarus after his resurrection.
It is hard to believe, and but for the irrefutable records of the Court, few would credit the fact that every one of these letters was in the French language! And the dupe a highly educated mathematician of European repute.
In the face of such incredible gullibility one is disposed to regard the sentence of two years' imprisonment and a fine of 500 francs as extravagantly severe, even despite the fact that Lucas received in all over 140,000 francs from M. Chasles.
The Chatterton and Ireland forgeries are familiar to all educated persons. These, however, hardly come under the head of the class of fraud with which the ordinary forger is associated. In each of these cases the motive of the deception was not so much to make money as a literary reputation. In both cases presumably competent judges were deceived. But the standard by which they gauged the genuineness of the productions was not caligraphic, but literary. In neither instance was there occasion or opportunity for the handwriting expert to exercise his skill, for the sufficient reason that there existed no material with which the writings could be compared. What the literary expert had to do was to examine and compare the style of the compositions—a test in which the idiosyncrasies and predilections of the judge played a leading part.
Probably the greatest, and for a short time the most successful autograph fraud perpetrated in Great Britain was that known as the case of the Rillbank MSS., the detection and exposure of which were mainly attributable to one of the authors of this work (Capt. W. W. Caddell).
Just before, and up till 1891, there was in Edinburgh a young man named Alexander Howland Smith, who claimed to be the son of a reputable Scottish law official, and a descendant of Sir Walter Scott.
On the strength of his presumed connection with the great novelist, he had no difficulty in disposing of, to an Edinburgh bookseller, for prices whose smallness alone should have excited suspicion, letters purporting to be in the handwriting of Sir Walter Scott. Emboldened by success, he embarked upon a wholesale manufacture of spurious letters bearing the signatures of Burns, Edmund Burke, Sir Walter Scott, Grattan and Thackeray. His principal victim was an Edinburgh chemist, Mr. James Mackenzie, who, when the fraud was not only suspected, but proved, distinguished himself by a stubborn and courageous defence of the genuineness of the documents.
Smith's modus operandi consisted in purchasing large-sized volumes of the period of the subjects of his forgeries, and using the blank leaves for the purpose of fabricating the letters. In May, 1891, a number of alleged Burns' letters were put up for sale by public auction at Edinburgh, fetching the surprising paltry price of from twenty to thirty shillings apiece.
It was a feature of all Smith's productions that the letters were extremely brief—a feature common to literary forgeries. The circumstance which first gave rise to suspicion was that the letters attributed to Scott, Burke, Burns, General Abercrombie, Grattan and Thackeray all began and ended with the same words. Those signed by Sir Walter Scott all began "I have your letter," and ended "I remain," a form of phraseology the reputed writer never used, but which, according to Smith, was common to all the distinguished men whose handwriting he had counterfeited with considerable success.
On the strength of the partial guarantee provided by the sale of some of these documents at a reputable auction room, Captain Caddell purchased a parcel of alleged Scott letters without prior inspection. A brief examination disclosed their fraudulent nature, and Smith was arrested. The Edinburgh police took the matter up, and the impostor was convicted in June, 1893, and sentenced to eighteen months' imprisonment.
Thackeray and Dickens are favourite subjects with most literary forgers, Washington and Benjamin Franklin running them very close for favouriteship. American collectors are particularly keen on procuring specimens of the last two-named, and there is grave reason to believe that many fall easy victims.
Fortunately the facilities for comparing and testing the genuineness of the autographs of every distinguished person whose holographs are most in favour with the forger, are numerous. In addition to the splendid collection of specimens extant at the British Museum Library, there are many facsimiles available.
The excellent work on Autograph Collecting by Dr. Henry T. Scott (Upcott Gill, London) is indispensable to the collector. It contains some hundreds of specimens, specially selected for the purposes of comparison, and gives besides many very valuable rules and hints for detecting the real from the sham.
Dr. Scott, writing of the autographic letters of his distinguished namesake, says:
"Of Sir Walter Scott's autographs it may be observed (1) the paper is generally letter size, gilt edged, with a soft, firm feeling to the touch, and an unglazed surface. (2) The date and residence are placed on the top and right hand, with a good space before the 'My Dear Sir,' uniform margins on the left side of the paper of a quarter of an inch, but on the right side no margin at all, the writing being carried close to the edge. The folding is done with the precision of a man of business, forming the space for the address into a nice oblong almost in the centre of the sheet, and the first line of the address is written nearly in the centre of the space with the remainder below.
"The watermarks found on the paper are one of the following: Valleyfield, 1809; C. Wilmott, 1815; J. Dickinson and Co., 1813; J. Dickinson, 1816; J. Dickinson (without date); J. Whatman, 1814; J. Whatman (without date); Turkey Mill, 1819; Turkey Mill (without date); G. C. & Co., 1828."
The paper used by Burns for his correspondence was always large in size, rough in surface, never glossy, and all four edges had the rough edge that is the peculiarity of a Bank of England note.
It is worthy of remark that in the case of the A. H. Smith Burns forgeries, suspicion was first excited by a simple but significant matter. The paper contained several worm holes. These had been carefully avoided by the writer, he knowing that if his pen touched them the result would be a spluttering and spreading of the ink.
Now it is safe to assume that these worm holes, being the effect of age, did not exist at the time the letter—if genuine—was written; as the worm did its work long afterwards, it must be regarded as a fortunate circumstance that in perforating the paper it refrained from destroying the writing, carefully selecting the wider spaces that the poet had, with commendable foresight, left for the insect's depredations.
The letters of Thackeray are in two styles of handwriting, the earlier sloping slightly, the latter vertical, round, neat and print-like, the capital I being invariably a simple vertical stroke. His is the most neat and uniformly readable hand of all the great literary characters. It is somewhat unfortunate that he was not anything like so uniform in his choice of paper. Letters are in existence on an extraordinary variety of material, from a quarto sheet to a scrap torn from half a sheet of note paper. On many of these letters is neither address nor date, but when once the characteristics of the charming handscript have been mastered, they are never forgotten, and are recognisable amid the closest imitations.
There are extant a number of forged Thackeray's. Their distinguishing features are that they are invariably very short, as if the forger feared to provide sufficient matter to supply material for comparison; most are on single half sheets of note paper, many on quarto sheets of varying texture and quality, and the characteristic vertical I, Thackeray's trade mark, always occurs. It is shaky and often out of the perpendicular, as the genuine rarely is. In the forgeries we have seen and suspect to be the work of A. H. Smith, a very significant sign is a sudden thickening of the downstrokes of tailed letters like y, f, g, producing a tiny diamond-shaped excrescence in the middle of the letter. The glass reveals that ragged-edged stroke which is inseparable from the writing of the nervous copyist.
It is generally safe to be cautious about very short letters. The forger well knows how difficult is the task of maintaining an assumed character. Just as the mimic may succeed in reproducing the tone and manner of a person with sufficient closeness to deceive even the most intimate acquaintances of the subject, yet fail to carry the deception beyond a few words or phrases, so the literary forger invariably breaks down when he attempts to simulate handwriting over many sentences. So conscious is he of this great difficulty that he often avoids it by boldly copying some genuine letter. We have had offered to us "guaranteed" Thackeray letters which we immediately recognised as such. In one particularly glaring case the forger had copied the original letter very fairly so far as the penmanship was concerned, but while the original was written on a half sheet of note paper, the forgery was on a different size paper, and the writing across the length of the paper instead of the breadth. This naturally disarranged the spacing between the words, which in all Thackeray's writings is a pronouncedly regular feature, and this variation was in itself sufficient to excite suspicion.
The popularity of Dickens among collectors grows steadily. Despite the fact that he was an industrious correspondent, and that a very large number of his letters appear from time to time in the market, the demand is ever in excess of the supply. As a consequence he has suffered perhaps more than any of the literary immortals at the hands of the forger. Yet it is safe to say that there should be no writer so safe from fraudulent imitation, for there is a peculiar distinctiveness about his caligraphic productions that once seen and noted should never be forgotten. Specimens are easily available. The catalogues of dealers are constantly presenting them, and most public libraries possess examples, either in the original holograph or in some form of reproduction.
Probably no writer preserved his style with such little change as Dickens. His signature in later years varied somewhat from that of his literary youth, but the body of his handscript retained throughout the same characteristics. It was always a free, fluent, graceful hand, legible as that of Thackeray when its leading peculiarities have been mastered, but less formal and studied than his. It was always remarkably free from corrections or interlineations. He wrote with the easy freedom of the stenographer; indeed it is easy to recognise in the delicate gracefully formed letters the effect of years of training in the most difficult and exacting form of handscript.
Perhaps the leading peculiarities in the Dickens holograph are these:—
The date of the month is never expressed in figures, but always written in full; in fact, abbreviation in any form he never countenanced.
The letter y, both as a capital and a small letter is a figure 7 except in the affix "ly," when the two letters become an f or long stroke s.
The letter t is crossed by the firm downward bar, which the character readers claim as a sign of great resolution.
Letter g is invariable in form.
Capital E consists of a downstroke with a bar in the centre.
The hook of many final letters has a tendency to turn backwards.
New paragraphs are marked by beginning the line about an inch from the left-hand margin.
A very marked peculiarity noticeable in many letters is that the left-hand margin gradually grows wider as the lines approach the bottom of the page. The narrowing is wondrously regular, a line drawn from the first letter on the first line to the corresponding position on the last will touch nearly every other line. This peculiarity appears to have escaped every forger whose work we have examined.
If the signs relied upon by the readers of character in handwriting are to be accepted, self-esteem was a pronounced characteristic of the great novelist. His writing abounds with those subtle symptoms of the prevalence of that weakness.
His signature is perhaps the best known of any with which the British public are familiar. It is remarkably uniform, and remained precisely the same from the time he adopted it after the Pickwick period until his death. That which he used in youth was less striking, but none the less self-conscious.
After the Pickwick period Dickens adopted the use of blue paper and blue ink. Letters in black ink, if undated, may safely be attributed to the earlier period.
His note paper was in later years of the regulation note size. The address, Gads' Hill Place, Higham by Rochester, Kent, was in embossed black old English letter. His paper was hand-made, and of good quality. The envelopes were blue, of the same quality paper, but without crest, monogram or distinctive mark. Dickens' vanity expressed itself in the habit of franking envelopes, i.e., by writing his name in the left-hand bottom corner, after the fashion in vogue when Peers and M.P.'s enjoyed the privilege of free postage.
His letters of the pre-envelope period—before 1842—were on quarto sheets. These are exceedingly rare.
There is one feature about autographic forgery which may always be relied upon to assist greatly in the work of detection. As a general rule there is sufficient matter in a literary forgery to supply the necessary material for comparison. It must of necessity be a copy, if not of an existing original, at least of the general style. The process of imitation must be slow and cautious, and the signs remain in shaky, broken lines, and a ruggedness entirely absent from the writing of the real author, which is fluent and free. Even the shakiness of age noticeable in a few distinguished handwritings is different to the shakiness of the forger's uncertainty.
The most difficult phase of the art of the handwriting expert consists in the detection of forgery in signatures. It will be obvious to the student who has followed the instructions and illustrations already given that this difficulty is brought about by two principal causes: first, by the paucity of material for comparison; secondly, because of the very important fact that a forgery must, by its nature, be a good and close copy of an original. This means that the unconscious tricks and irregularities that often abound in a long letter, written in a more or less disguised hand, are almost entirely absent from a forged signature. It follows, therefore, that the student must have some other clues and rules to guide him, for he cannot rely upon the chance of a slip or accidental trick occurring in a signature that contains at most perhaps a dozen letters.
The first step in the examination of a suspected signature is to master thoroughly the various characteristics of the genuine signature. These must be studied in every possible relation, and from as many specimens as can be obtained. The magnifying glass must be in constant use and the eye alert to detect the angle at which the pen is habitually held, the class of pen used, and the degree of pressure and speed employed. These last-named points can only be discovered as the result of practice and observation, and though at first sight it may appear impossible to form a correct estimate of the pace at which a pen has travelled, the student will, if observant, soon learn to detect the difference between a swiftly formed stroke and one written with slowness and deliberation. By making a number of each kind of stroke and carefully examining them through a glass, the student will learn in an hour more than can be taught by means of verbal description. The study of the genuine signatures must be continued until every stroke and its peculiarities are as familiar as the features of a well-known face, for until one is thoroughly impregnated with the original it will be useless to proceed with the examination of the suspects.
At first sight the student will probably perceive very little, if any, difference between the original and the suspect. It would be a very clumsy forgery if he could. Gradually the points of dissimilarity will become clear to him, and with each fresh examination they grow plainer, until he is surprised that they did not sooner strike him; they are so obvious that the eye cannot avoid them; they stand out as plainly as the hidden figure, after it has been detected, in the well-known picture puzzles. There are few faculties capable of such rapid and accurate development as that of observation. Thousands of persons go through life unconscious of the existence of certain common things until the occasion arises for noticing them, or accident forces them upon the attention; then they marvel that the thing should have escaped observation. This is a truism, no doubt, but the force of every platitude does not always present itself to every one. The comparison of handwritings is so essentially a matter of cultivating the powers of observation, that even if turned to no more practical account than that of a hobby its value as a mental exercise is great.
There are two principal methods by which a signature may be forged: first, by carefully copying the original as one would copy a drawing; secondly, by tracing it.
The first process is referred to as copied. The forger will, most probably, have practised the signature before affixing it to the cheque or other document, thereby attaining a certain degree of fluency. But however well executed, close examination with the aid of the magnifying glass will reveal those signs of hesitancy and irregularity that one may reasonably expect to find in a copy.
There is no part of a person's handwriting so fluent and free as his signature. Even the most illiterate persons show more freedom and continuity of outline in their signature than in the body of their writing. This is explicable on the ground of usage. A writer may feel a degree of momentary uncertainty in forming a word that he does not write frequently, but his signature he is more sure about. He strikes it off without hesitancy, and in the majority of cases appends some meaningless flourish, which may be described as a superfluous stroke or strokes added for the purpose of ornamentation, for adding distinctiveness, or, in some cases, and particularly with business men, with the idea that the flourishes help to secure the signature from forgery. Such writers will probably be surprised to learn that there is no form of signature so easy to forge as that involved and complicated by a maze of superfluous lines and meaningless flourishes. The most difficult signature for the forger is the clear, plain, copybook-modelled autograph. A little thought and examination will make the reason for this clear.
Let a signature be enveloped in a web of curves and flourishes, making it look like a complicated script monogram. The lines are so numerous that the eye cannot take them all in at a glance, and, if copied, any slight irregularity or departure from the original is more likely to pass undetected amid the confusing network of interlaced lines. If, on the other hand, the signature be simple and free from the bewildering effects of flourishes, the entire autograph lies revealed, a clear and regular outline, and the slightest variation from the accustomed figure stands out naked and plain. Most of the successful forgeries will be found to be on signatures of the complicated order. Their apparent impregnability has tempted the facile penman to essay the task of harmless imitation; his success has surprised and flattered him, and the easy possibilities of forgery opened up. More than one forger has admitted that his initiatory lessons were prompted by an innocent challenge to imitate a particularly complicated "forgery-proof" signature.
It must be remembered that the eye of the casual observer takes in a word as a whole rather than in detail. This explains why an author can rarely be trusted to correct his own proofs. He knows what the word should be, and in reading his work in print he notices only the general expected effect of a word. It needs the trained eye of the proof-reader to detect the small c that has taken the place of the e, the battered l that is masquerading as an i. So long as the general outline of the word is not distorted the wrong letters are often passed; and it is much the same with a signature with which one is fairly familiar. The trained examiner of handwriting, like the proof-reader, knows what to look for, and discovers irregularities that would escape the notice of the untrained eye.
The first part of a genuine signature that should be examined is the flourish, which includes all fancy strokes appended to it, and any superfluous addition to the body of the letters. A close scrutiny through the glass will show that the lines forming the tail-flourish are generally clear, firm and sharp in outline, being formed, not only without hesitation, but with a dash and decided sweep that are strongly at variance with the broken, saw-edged, unsteady line of the copy. It will also generally be found to follow an almost fixed rule in the matter of its proportionate conformation: that is, supposing the writer finishes up with a horizontal line under his signature, it will be seen, on averaging a dozen or so of them, that the distance of the line from the feet of the letters is proportionately uniform. If the line be begun with a spur or curved inward hook, that feature will be repeated. The end of the flourish or final stroke, at the point where the pen leaves the paper, should be very carefully examined. One writer finishes with an almost imperceptible dot, as if the pen had been stabbed into the paper; another finishes with a curve, either upward or downward; a third with a hook turned upward, either a curve or an angle; while a fourth continues the line till it becomes finer and sharper to vanishing point. Some writers are fond of concluding with a more or less bold and expansive underline running horizontally with the signature. A close examination will show a variation in the degrees of thickness of such a line, which should be carefully noted and looked for in other genuine signatures.
In this connection it will be found extremely useful and instructive to study strokes, either horizontal or vertical, with a view to discovering whether they were struck from right to left, top to bottom, or vice versâ. The glass will render it easy to detect beginning from end after a few failures, which, by the way, should not be allowed to discourage, for every minute devoted to the study of handwriting is so much gain in experience, and represents so much more learned, which will never be forgotten.
The flourishes that occur on and about the signature proper must be treated as exaggerated loops, and their shoulders, arcs, hooks and toes carefully measured and noted. For this purpose an average genuine signature should be selected and gauged, which is done in this way: Place over it a sheet of transfer paper. With the scale-rule and a fine pencil draw horizontal lines that will touch the tops and bottoms of the bodies of the letters, lines that touch the tops and bottoms of the tailed and topped letters, and vertical lines that follow the shanks of every topped or tailed letter, including the capitals. The gauge, when completed, will represent a framework fitting the signature, and its use is twofold. It helps the eye to detect the variations in the general contour of the signature, and, when placed over another, brings out the points of difference. Due allowance must be made for proportion. It is obvious that the distance of letters will be greater in a signature written larger than another, but the proportionate distances will be preserved. The difference in the size of a letter is not very important, except that it offers more scope for examination. For example, a looped l may be very small or half an inch long; but, if made by the same writer, the proportionate width at top, bottom and middle will be preserved, and compare with the same measurements in the smaller letter. Signatures of the same writer do not often vary much in size, though they may be thicker or finer according to the character of the pen used; but observation will show that the difference in a handwriting caused by the use of different pens is much more imaginary than real.
The traced signature is produced by placing the paper over the genuine autograph, holding it to the light, generally on a sheet of glass, and tracing it with a fine point. Such forgeries are often more easily detected than the copied signature, for the reason that signs of the tracing process can generally be found by careful examination. The fine, hard point used to trace the autograph leaves a smooth hollow, which can be seen through the glass on examining the back of the cheque or document. If the paper be held in a line with the eye in a strong light, the ridge will be more clearly perceived. The difference between a mark made by a hard point and a pen can be tested by experiment. The hard point must of necessity be pressed with a degree of force to make the desired impression on the paper, and the result is a smooth hollow. But if a pen be pressed hard, it produces two parallel lines, and, instead of a hollow, a ridge is formed between the parallels. Of course, it will be so slight as to be hardly perceptible, except through a strong glass, but it will be there nevertheless, and knowing what to look for, the expert will generally have no difficulty in satisfying himself whether the forgery has been traced or copied, a very valuable piece of evidence when once settled, for it is within the bounds of probability that the genuine signature from which the tracing was made may be discovered. It is possible, and has often occurred, that the writer of the original may have some recollection of having written to the suspected person, or in many ways a clue may be suggested. There is a well-known case of a forgery being brought home to the perpetrator through the accuracy of the tracing. It is a fact easily proved, that no man can write a word twice, so exactly, that if the two are overlaid they fit. If two such signatures be produced, it is safe to assume that one has been traced or otherwise mechanically produced. In the case mentioned a signature on a cheque was pronounced a forgery by the person supposed to have signed it. In examining specimens of the genuine autograph, the experts came upon one which, when placed upon that on the cheque, proved a perfect replica, down to the most minute detail, showing beyond question that it had been used to trace the forgery from. It was further proved that the original had been in the possession of the supposed forger, and the jury were asked to decide whether it was probable that a man could reproduce his signature in exact facsimile after a lapse of time, and without the original before him. As the chances against such a contingency are many millions to one—a fact the student can verify—the jury decided against the forger.
At the risk of appearing tautological to a tiresome degree it is necessary to accentuate the fact that the comparison of handwriting, and more particularly of signatures, is essentially dependent on cultivating the faculty of observation. This art cannot be taught; it can only be acquired by practice and experience, like swimming or riding. The teacher can at most indicate the method of study and some of the leading principles of conducting an investigation. Most men are not naturally observant, and the habit can be best fostered by having an object; but when once a person has been taught what to look for he almost instinctively notices details that previously never struck him. This is specially true of the study of handwriting.
The best method of practice that can be adopted by the student is to begin by making a careful study of his own signature and writing. He will be surprised at the number of facts hitherto unsuspected that will be revealed to him. The value of using his own handwriting as a subject of examination lies in this, that the student can satisfy himself how and why certain strokes are made. This he can only guess at in the writing of others.
The preliminary exercise should consist in studying the effect produced by the different methods of holding the pen. The signature supplies excellent material for this class of practice. Begin by holding the pen with the top end pointed well towards the left shoulder, in the absurd and unnatural position taught by the old school of writing masters. Repeat the signature with the pen held a trifle less acutely angular, and go on till six or eight signatures have been written at a decreasing angle—until the top of the penholder points well to the right, producing what is known as a backhand. The effect of these angles must be carefully noted, and in a short time it will be found possible to arrive at a very accurate opinion as to how the writer of a particular signature habitually holds his pen—an important and valuable piece of knowledge. The practice should be extended to long sentences, and a frequent repetition of all the letters, capital and small, the magnifying glass being always used to examine the effect of the various and varying strokes.
In examining a signature for comparing it with a suspected forgery it should be copied very frequently, as the clues and suggestions the experiments will produce are of much greater service than will at first appear, and of more practical value than pages of theory, as the how and why will be revealed for much that would be obscure without this assistance. As experience grows, it will not be necessary to adopt this copying process so often, for the eye soon becomes alert at detecting slight shades of difference in strokes, and a glance will convey more than could be explained in many pages.