MY DEAR WARREN,--Your truly kind letter induces me to break the
contemptuous silence, with which for nine years I have treated the
calumnies, to which you allude. I am the more induced to this by the
representations of some valued friends, that many honorable minds begin
to believe the slander because of its repetition without receiving a
contradiction. It is with disgust and disdain, however, that even thus
solicited I stoop to notice inventions too abominable, I had hoped, for
any honest man to have believed. The conduct of Lord Denman is in every
respect characteristic of his noble nature. Too just to condemn without
proof, he investigates the facts, and defends the innocent. His
deliberate opinion is valuable indeed, because proceeding from one who
is invaluable himself. My judicial appointments by the noblemen you
mention would have entailed on them a fearful responsibility, had there
been any truth in the accusations of which they must have been
cognizant. I had no interest whatever with either of these chancellors,
save that derived from their 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 seats. My position at this
moment was, I believe, without parallel in the annals of the profession.
I at once came to the resolution of abandoning the case, and so I told
my colleague. He strongly and urgently remonstrated against it, but in
vain. At last he suggested our obtaining the opinion of the learned
judge, who was not trying the cause, upon what he considered to be the
professional etiquette under circumstances so embarrassing. In this I
very willingly acquiesced. We obtained an interview, and Mr. Baron
Parke requested to know distinctly whether the prisoner insisted on my
defending him, and, on hearing that he did, said, I was bound to do so,
and to use all fair arguments arising on the evidence. I therefore
retained the brief, and I contend for it, that every argument I used was
a fair commentary on the evidence, though undoubtedly as strong as I
could make them. I believe there is no difference of opinion now in the
profession that this course was right. It was not until after eight
hours' public exertion before the jury that the prisoner confessed; and
to have abandoned him then would have been virtually surrendering him to
death. This is my answer to the first charge.
I am accused, secondly, of having "appealed to Heaven as to my belief in
Courvoisier's innocence," after he had made me acquainted with his
guilt. A grievous accusation! But it is false as it is foul, and carries
its own refutation on its face. It is with difficulty I restrain the
expression of my indignation; but respect for my station forbids me to
characterize this slander as it deserves. It will not bear one moment's
analysis. It is an utter impossibility under the circumstances. What!
appeal to Heaven for its testimony to a lie, and not expect to be
answered by its lightning? What! make such an appeal, conscious that an
honorable colleague sat beside me, whose valued friendship I must have
forever forfeited? But above all and beyond all, and too monstrous for
belief, would I have dared to utter that falsehood in the very presence
of the judge to whom, but the day before, I had confided the reality!
There, upon the Bench above me, sat that time-honored man--that upright
magistrate, pure as his ermine, "narrowly watching" every word I said.
Had I dared to make an appeal so horrible and so impious--had I dared so
to outrage his nature and my own conscience, he would have started from
his seat and withered me with a glance. No, Warren, I never made such an
appeal; it is a malignant untruth, and sure I am, had the person who
coined it but known what had previously occurred, he never would have
uttered from his libel mint so very clumsy and self-proclaiming a
counterfeit. So far for the verisimilitude of this-charge. But I will
not rest either on improbability, or argument, or even denial. I have a
better and a conclusive answer. The trial terminated on Saturday
evening. On Sunday I was shown in a newspaper the passage imputed to me.
I took the paper to court on Monday, and, in the aldermen's room, before
all assembled, after reading the paragraph aloud, I thus addressed the
judges:--"I take the very first opportunity which offers, my lords, of
most respectfully inquiring of you whether I ever used any such
expression?"--"You certainly did not, Phillips," was the reply of the
late lamented Lord Chief Justice, "and I will be your vouchee whenever
you choose to call me,"--"And I," said Mr. Baron Parke, happily still
spared to us, "had a reason, which the Lord Chief Justice did not know,
for watching you narrowly, and he will remember my saying to him, when
you sat down, 'Brother Tindal, did you observe how carefully Phillips
abstained from giving any personal opinion in the case?' To this the
learned Chief Justice instantly assented." This is my answer to the
second charge.
Thirdly, and lastly, I am accused of having endeavored to cast upon the
female servants the guilt, which I knew was attributable to Courvoisier.
You will observe, of course, that the gravamen of this consists in my
having done so after the confession. The answer to this is obvious.
Courvoisier did not confess till Friday: the cross-examination took
place the day before, and so far, therefore, the accusation is disposed
of. But it may be said I did so in my address to the jury. Before
refuting this let me observe upon the disheartening circumstances under
which that address was delivered. At the close of the, to me, most
wretched day on which the confession was made, the prisoner sent me this
astounding message by his solicitor: "Tell Mr. Phillips, my counsel,
that I consider he has my life in his hands." My answer was, that as he
must be present himself, he would have an opportunity of seeing whether
I deserted him or not. I was to speak on the next morning. But what a
night preceded it! Fevered and horror-stricken, I could find no repose.
If I slumbered for a moment, the murderer's form arose before me,
scaring sleep away, now muttering his awful crime, and now shrieking to
me to save his life! I did try to save it. I did everything to save it,
except that which is imputed to me, but that I did not, and I will prove
it. I have since pondered much upon this subject, and I am satisfied
that my original impression was erroneous. I had no right to throw up my
brief, and turn traitor to the wretch, wretch though he was, who had
confided in me. The counsel for a prisoner has no option. The moment he
accepts his brief, every faculty he possesses becomes his client's
property. It is an implied contract between him and the man who trusts
him. Out of the profession this may be a moot point, but it was asserted
and acted on by two illustrious advocates of our own day, even to the
confronting of a king, and, to the regal honor be it spoken, these
dauntless men were afterwards promoted to the highest dignities.
You will ask me here whether I contend on this principle for the right
of doing that of which I am accused, namely, casting the guilt upon the
innocent? I do no such thing; and I deny the imputation altogether. You
will still bear in mind what I have said before, that I scarcely could
have dared to do so under the eye of Baron Parke and in the presence of
Mr. Clarkson. To act so, I must have been insane. But to set this matter
at rest, I have referred to my address as reported in the "Times"--a
journal the fidelity of whose reports was never questioned. You will be
amazed to hear that I not only did not do that of which I am accused;
but that I did the very reverse. Fearing that, nervous and unstrung as I
was, I might do any injustice in the course of a lengthened speech, by
even an ambiguous expression, I find these words reported in the
"Times,"--"Mr. Phillips said the prosecutors were bound to prove the
guilt of the prisoner, not by inference, by reasoning, by such subtile
and refined ingenuity as had been used, but by downright, clear, open,
palpable demonstration. How did they seek to do this? What said Mr.
Adolphus and his witness, Sarah Mancer? And here he would beg the jury
not to suppose for a moment, in the course of the narrative with which
he must trouble them, that he meant to cast the crime upon either of the
female servants. It was not at all necessary to his case to do so. It
was neither his interest, his duty, nor his policy, to do so. God forbid
that any breath of his should send tainted into the world persons
depending for their subsistence on their character." Surely this ought
to be sufficient. I cannot allude, however, to this giant of the press,
whose might can make or unmake a reputation, without gratefully
acknowledging that it never lent its great circulation to these libels.
It had too much justice. The "Morning Chronicle," the "Morning Herald,"
and the "Morning Post," the only journals to which I have access, fully
corroborated the "Times," if, indeed, such a journal needed
corroboration. The "Chronicle" runs thus:--"In the first place, says my
friend Mr. Adolphus, and says his witness Sarah Mancer--and here I beg
to do an act of justice, and to assure you that I do not for a moment
mean to suggest in the whole course of my narrative that this crime may
have been committed by the female servants of the deceased nobleman."
"The Morning Post" runs thus: "Mr. Adolphus called a witness, Sarah
Mancer. But let me do myself justice, and others justice, by now
stating, that in the whole course of my narrative with which I must
trouble you, I beg you would not suppose that I am in the least degree
seeking to cast the crime upon any of the witnesses. God forbid that any
breath of mine should send persons depending on the public for
subsistence into the world with a tainted character." I find the
"Morning Herald" reporting me as follows: "Mr. Adolphus called a witness
named Sarah Mancer. But let me do myself justice and others justice by
now stating that in the whole course of the narrative with which I must
trouble you, I must beg that you will not suppose that I am in the least
degree seeking to cast blame upon any of the witnesses." Can any
disclaimer be more complete? And yet, in the face of this, for nine
successive years has this most unscrupulous of slanderers reiterated his
charge. Not quite three weeks ago he recurs to it in these terms: "How
much worse was the attempt of Mr. Phillips to throw the suspicion of the
murder of Lord William Russell on the innocent female servants, in order
to procure the acquittal of his client Courvoisier, of whose guilt he
was cognizant?" I have read with care the whole report in the "Times" of
that three hours' speech, and I do not find a passage to give this
charge countenance. But surely, surely, in the agitated state in which I
was, had even an ambiguous expression dropped from me, the above broad
disclaimer would have been its efficient antidote.
Such is my answer to the last charge; and, come what will, it shall be
my final answer. No envenomed reiteration, no popular delusion, no
importunity of friendship, shall ever draw from me another syllable. I
shall remain in future, as I have been heretofore, _auditor tantum_. You
know well how strenuously and how repeatedly you pressed me to my
vindication, especially after Lord Denman's important conversation with
you, and you know the stern disdain with which I dissented. The _mens
conscia recti_, a thorough contempt for my traducer, the belief that
truth would in the end prevail, and a self-humiliation at stooping to a
defence, amply sustained me amid the almost national outcry which
calumny had created. Relying doubtless upon this, month after month, for
nine successive years, my accuser has iterated and reiterated his libels
in terms so gross, so vulgar, and so disgraceful, that my most valued
friends thought it my duty to them publicly to refute them. To that
consideration, and to that alone, I have yielded; in deference to
theirs, relinquishing my own opinions. If they suppose, however, that
slander, because answered, will be silenced, they will find themselves
mistaken.
Destroy the web of sophistry--in vain--
The creature's at his dirty work again.
No, no, my dear friend, invention is a libeller's exhaustless capital,
and refutation but supplies the food on which he lives. He may, however,
pursue his vocation undisturbed by me. His libels and my answer are now
before the world, and I leave them to the judgment of all honorable men.