The Sun.
London, England, 1849-11-20 00:00:00

THE TRIAL OF COURVOISIER,

TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES.
Sir,—l shall esteem it a great favour if you will
allow the accompanying documents to appear in
the Times. Its univers.d circulation affords me an
Opportunity of annihilating a calumny recently re-
vived, which has for nine years harassed my friends
far more thin myself.—l have the honour to be, Sir,
your most obedient servant,
39, Gordon-square.

CLIABLEs

Inner Temple, Nov. 14, 1849.
My dear Phillips,—lt was with pain that I heard
yesterday of an accusation having been revived
against you in the Examiner newspaper respecting
alleged di,lionourahle and most unconscientious con-
duct on your part when defending Courvoisier against
the charge of having murdered Lord William Rus-
sell. Considering that you fill a responsible judicial
office, and have to leave behind you a name unsullied
by any blot or stain, I think you ought to lose no
time in offering, as I believe you can truly do, a
public*and peremptory contradiction to the allega-
tions in question. The mere circumstance of your
having been twice promoted to judicial office by
two Lord Chancellors, Lord Lyndhurst and Lord
Brougham, since the circulation of the reports to
which I am alluding, and after those reports had been
called to the attention of at least one of those Noble and
Learned Lords, is sufficient evidence of the ground•
lessness of such reports.
Some time ago I was dining with Lord Denman,
when I mentioned to him the report in question. His
Lordship immediately stated that he had inquired
into the matter, and found the charge to be utterly
unfounded ; that he had spoken on the subject to Mr.
Baron Parke, who had sat on the bench beside Chief
Justice Tindal, who tried Courvcisier, and that Baron
Parke told him he had, for reasons of his own, most
carefully watched every word that you uttered, and
' assured Lord Denman that your address was per-
fectly unexceptionable, and that you made no such
statements as were subsequently attributed to you.
Lord Denman told me that I was at liberty to
mention this fact to any one ; and expressed in noble
and generous terms his concern at the existence of
such serious and unfounded imputations upon your
character and honour.

Both Lord Denman and Baron Parke are men of
as nice a sense of honour and as high a degree of
conscientiousness as it is possible to conceive ; and I
think the testimony of two such distinguished judges
ought to be publicly known, to extinguish every kind
of suspicion on the subject.
I write this letter to you spontaneously, and,
hoping that you will forgive the earnestness with
which I entreat you to act upon my suggestion,
Believe me, ever yours sincerely,
SAMUEL WARREN.

Mr. Commissioner Phillips.

39, Gordon- square, Nov. 20.
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. lam the more induced to this by the repre-
sentations of some valued friends that many honour-
able 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, volun •
tarily tendered me his favour 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 sootht d
some affliction and enhanced every pleasure, and while
memory lasts will remain the proudest of its recollec-
tions and the most precious of its pleasures. This is
no vainglorious 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 tra
ducers. Such men as these would scarcely have given
their countenance to one who, if what was said of him
were true, deserved their condemnation. lam 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
of these charges a solemn and indignant contradic-
tion, 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 that 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 consul-
tation there in vain with his other counsel and my-
self. 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 very firmly in his in-
nocence, 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 mo-
ment was, I believe, without parallel in the annals of
the profession. lat once came to the resolution of
abandoning the case, and so I told my colleague. Ile
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 profes-
sional 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 ail 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 till after eight
hours' public exertion before the jury that the pri-
soner 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 refu-
tation on its face. It is with difficulty I restrain the
expression of my indignation; but respect for my
station forbids me to characterise 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 tes-
timony to a lie, and not expect to be answered by its
lightning ? What! make such an appeal, conscious
that an honourable colleague sat beside me whose
valued friendship I must have for ever 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-honoured 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 lam 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
sof.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 letter 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 alderman's room, before all assembled, after read-
ing the paragraph aloud, I thus addressed the
judges—"l 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
voucher whenever you choose to call me." " And I,"