94
THE GREEN BAG
on various occasions, at various intervals, during our late annals; it has been discussed by very learned lawyers, it has been illus trated by very profound antiquaries, legal and constitutional; has been made subjectmatter for philosophical moralists, and even touched by the pleasantry of poignant wits. I confess that I myself have imbibed an opinion that it is the duty of a counsel to his client to assist him by all possible means, just or unjust, and even to commit, if ne cessary, a crime for his assistance or extri cation. My lords, this may be an outrage ous opinion; but, my lords, it is not my own. Allow me to read the description of the duty of a counsel to his client, and by a great authority: 'An advocate, by the sacred duty which he owes his client, knows in the discharge of his duty but one person in the world — that client and none other. To save that client by all expedient means; and to protect that client at all hazards and costs to all others, and among those others to himself, is the highest and most unques tioned of his duties; and he must not regard the alarm, the sufferings, the torment, the destruction which he may bring upon any other. In the spirit of [duty he must go on, reckless even if his fate should be unhappily to involve his country in con fusion.' "Here, my lords, is a sketch, and by a great master; here, my lords, is the rationale of the duties of an advocate, and drawn up by a Lord Chancellor. In this, my lords, is the idea of those duties expressed, before the highest tribunal of the country, by the Attorney-General of the Queen of England. According to this high authority, it is the duty of a counsel, for his client, even to commit treason. If then, my lords, I have erred in my estimate of the extent of these duties, it cannot be said, my lords, that I have erred without authority. Nor can this be considered as the extravagance of a mere rhetorical ebullition. My lords, I read this passage from an edition of the speech just published by the noble orator, who,
satisfied with the fame that he has so long enjoyed, now deems it worthy of the im mortality of his own revision, and has just published this description unaltered, after twenty years' reflection, and with its most important portions printed in capital letters. And, my lords, I ask is there any member of the Bar who has had any experience, who has had any substantial practice, any sway of business — my lords, I will say more, is there any member of this profession, I care not how noble his nature or name, how serene his present mind or exalted his present sta tion — who can say that in the course of a long career in which this responsible power has been exercised, there have not been in stances when the memory of its employ ment has occasioned him deep regret and lengthened vexation? My lords, I have done. I leave my case with confidence to your merciful consideration, briefly recapitu lating the points on which I have attempted to put myself fairly before the Bench and the public. As to my offence against the law, I throw myself on your lordships' mercy; as to my offence against the indi vidual, I have made him that reparation which a gentleman should, under the cir cumstances, cheerfully offer, and with which a gentleman should, in my opinion, be cheer fully content. I make this, my lords, not to avoid the consequences of my conduct, for right or wrong, good or bad, .those conse quences I am ever ready to encounter; but because I am anxious to soothe the feelings which I have unjustly injured, and evince my respect to the suggestions of the Bench. But as to my offence against the Bar, I do with the utmost confidence appeal to your lordships, however you may disapprove of my opinions, however objectionable, how ever offensive, even however odious they may be to you, that you will not permit me to be arraigned for one offence and punished for another. In a word, my lords, it is to the Bench I look with confidence to shield me from the vengeance of an irritated and powerful profession."
