heir knowledge of my character, and their
observation of my conduct. It is now five-and-twenty years ago since
Lord Lyndhurst, when I had no friend here, voluntarily tendered me his
favor and his influence, and his kindness to me remains to this day
unabated. Of Lord Brougham, my ever warm and devoted friend, I forbear
to speak, because words cannot express my affection or my gratitude. His
friendship has soothed some affliction and enhanced every pleasure, and
while memory lasts will remain the proudest of its recollections and the
most precious of its treasures. This is no vain-glorious vaunting. The
unabated kindness of three of the greatest men, who ever adorned the
Bench, ought, in itself, to be a sufficient answer to my traducers. Such
men as these would scarcely have given their countenance to one, who, if
what were said of him were true, deserved their condemnation. I am not
disposed, however, though I might be well warranted in doing so, to
shelter myself under the authority of names, no matter how illustrious.
I give to each and all of these charges a solemn and indignant
contradiction, and I will now proceed to their refutation. The charges
are threefold, and I shall discuss them _seriatim_.

First, I am accused of having retained Courvoisier's brief after having
heard his confession. It is right that I should relate the manner of
that confession, as it has been somewhat misapprehended. Many suppose it
was made to me alone, and made in the prison. I never was in the prison
since I was called to the Bar, and but once before, being invited to see
it by the then sheriffs. So strict is this rule, that the late Mr.
Fauntleroy solicited a consultation there in vain with his other counsel
and myself. It was on the second morning of the trial, just before the
judges entered, that Courvoisier, standing publicly in front of the
dock, solicited an interview with his counsel. My excellent friend and
colleague, Mr. Clarkson, and myself immediately approached him. I beg of
you to mark the presence of Mr. Clarkson, as it will become very
material presently. Up to this morning I believed most firmly in his
innocence, and so did many others as well as myself. "I have sent for
you, gentlemen," said he, "to tell you I committed the murder!" When I
could speak, which was not immediately, I said, "Of course then you are
going to plead guilty?"--"No, sir," was the reply, "I expect you to
defend me to the utmost." We returned to our