I know that voice—be of good cheer—I have nearly done, though not being used to unprepared public-speaking, I have said little that I meant to say, and much that I did not mean to say; hardly a word however even of that which I have said or meant to say, as I would say it, or as I could say it, if I had a little more experience—or as I could say it now on paper. And if I feel this—I—who have grown up to a habit if not of speaking, at least of reading before a multitude; I, who have been used from my youth up to arrange my thoughts for the public eye, to argue and to persuade; what must another, taken by surprise, wholly without such practice and power, what must he—or she—or that poor woman at the bar feel, were you to put her into my place, and urge her to defend herself to a jury? Pity her ... I implore you ... consider what I say and have mercy upon her!—
Before you sit down, brother B.... what if you give us a word or two of the parallel you begun?—I see the drift of it now—a word or two, you understand me—take a mouthful o’ water—and if you could manage to slip in a remark or two about the nature of the proof required in witchcraft, I’ll be after you in a crack, and we’ll tire ’em out, if we can’t do anything better.
I will—be prepared though—for I shall say but a word or two—I am weary; sick and weary of this—my throat is parched, and my very soul in a maze of perplexity.
So much the better—they can’t follow you on t’other side.
Well, fathers! I pursued the inquiry. I found that even there, no prisoner could have a compulsory process to bring a witness for him into court, although such process could be had, backed by the whole power of the country, to bring a witness against him. And I discovered also, that if a witness for the accused were so obliging as to appear, they would not suffer him to speak on oath. I turned to the officer—I take it, Sir, said I, that in such a case, you have no punishment for untruth, and of course, that the witnesses for the wretched man at the bar are not so likely to be believed as the witnesses against him ... the latter being on oath?... Precisely. But is he a lawyer? said I.... Who! the prisoner at the bar.... Yes.... A lawyer—no. Is he accustomed to public speaking? He ... no, indeed!... Nor to close argument, perhaps? nor to a habit of arranging his ideas on paper?... I dare say not, was the reply. It would be no easy matter for a man to preserve his selfpossession ... so at least I should suppose, however much he might be accustomed to public speaking ... if he were on trial himself, and obliged to defend himself?
There’s an authority for you in the books, brother B.—The man who appeareth for himself, (in a loud voice) for himself, saith my lord ... Coke, hath a fool for his client....
Saith Lord Coke, hey?
Pooh, pooh, (in a whisper) pooh, pooh; never mind who says it; give it for his, and let them show the contrary, if they are able.
But if it be a case of life and death—where great coolness and great precision were needed at every step, he would be yet more embarrassed? No doubt. And is not the prosecutor a very able man? Very, Sir—very. Chosen for that office, out of a multitude of superior men altogether on account of his ability? Very true, Sir—very true—on account of his ability and experience at the bar. And yet, Sir, said I—if I understand you, that poor fellow there, who is now in such grevious trepidation, so weak that he can hardly stand—his color coming and going with every breath, his throat and mouth and lips dry with excessive anxiety, his head inclined as if with a continual ringing in his ears—if I understand you, said I, he is now called up to defend himself, to make speech for speech before a jury, against one of your most able and eloquent speakers; a man whose reputation is at stake on the issue—a man who—if he be thwarted in his way, by a witness, or a fact, or a speech, or a point of law, will appear to regard the escape of the prisoner, whatever he may be charged with, and whether he be innocent or guilty, as nothing better than a reproach to the law, and high treason to the state—a man, to say all in a word, who dares to behave in a court of justice—in a matter of life and death too—as if the escape of a prisoner were disloyalty to the king—our father! and a disgrace to the king’s Attorney-general—
Will you have done, Sir?