At one o’clock on the morning of Thursday, 28th August, the exculpatory proof was closed, and the Lord Advocate began his address to the jury. His Lordship’s speech, while an able and convincing statement of the Crown case, was marred by one or two passages which would now be considered to exceed the limits of legitimate advocacy. Such are the references to facts “which would have been likewise sworn to by Smith’s wife, if she had been allowed to be examined”; the assumption that the Deacon’s foreman, Robert Smith, was convinced of his master’s guilt; the use made of Ainslie’s declaration, which that witness was told had been destroyed, and which was not before the Court; and the passage in the peroration referring to the “consequences to the inhabitants of this populous city” of the Deacon’s acquittal.
At the conclusion of the evidence the Dean of Faculty and John Clerk had held a final consultation, when it was arranged that Clerk should speak first for Smith, and that Erskine should follow for Brodie, and strengthen or take up such points as he might think necessary. In order to put himself in fighting form, Clerk, we are told, drank a bottle of claret before commencing his address. This speech, the only extant example of his celebrated method of advocacy, was, in all the contemporary reports, reduced to a minimum for fear of offending the judges. Fortunately, however, a later writer, Peter Mackenzie, has preserved, in his “Reminiscences of Glasgow” (Glasgow, 1866), a full account of the suppressed passages, which he gives on the unquestionable authority of Æneas Morrison, the agent for Smith, who himself furnished the author with these particulars. They have accordingly been incorporated in the following report.
When Clerk, in the course of his address, came to deal with the evidence of Ainslie and Brown, a scene, almost incredible to us nowadays, occurred between the irrepressible young advocate and the overbearing judge. Clerk informed the jury that, in his opinion, these witnesses ought never to have been admitted, a statement which the bench naturally resented, and he went on to insist that, notwithstanding the ruling of the Court, the jury should discard their evidence entirely, as they (the jury) were to judge of the law as well as of the fact. In the course of the discussion which followed, the intervention of the Lord Advocate was met by a graceful allusion to His Majesty’s Tory Administration as “villains” likely to contaminate the Crown.
A heated altercation between Clerk and Braxfield ensued, and, finally, the latter bade him go on with his speech at his peril. On Clerk refusing to proceed unless allowed to do so in his own way, Braxfield invited the Dean of Faculty to commence his address for Brodie, which that gentleman declined to do. Thereupon the Lord Justice-Clerk was about to charge the jury himself, when Clerk, starting to his feet and shaking his fist at the bench, cried out, “Hang my client if ye daur, my Lord, without hearing me in his defence!” These amazing words, the like of which had seldom echoed in judicial ears, caused the utmost sensation in Court, and, after an awful pause, the judges left the bench to hold a consultation. But, on their return, instead of anything tremendous taking place, his Lordship civilly requested Clerk to continue his address, and the incident terminated.
Thus was the redoubtable Braxfield forced to yield to the persistence of the fiery young counsel. On reading the discussion as reported, one cannot but think that Clerk was clearly in the wrong, and that his contention as to the jury being judges both of the fact and of the law was, as Braxfield roundly put it, “talking nonsense.” Nor does it appear that the line which he saw fit to adopt could in any way benefit his unfortunate client, whose interests would have been better served by more temperate methods. Clerk, however, was thoroughly pleased with his performance, and subsequently observed that it was “the making of him” professionally.
It is said that Clerk’s indignant repudiation of the prosecutor’s argument that the King’s pardon made Brown an honest man reached the ears of Robert Burns, and led him afterwards to write the famous lines—
A prince can mak’ a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that;
But an honest man’s aboon his might,
Gude faith, he mauna fa’ that!
At three o’clock in the morning the Dean of Faculty rose to address the jury on behalf of Deacon Brodie. In spite of the fact that he had been continuously engaged upon the case since nine o’clock the preceding morning, no signs of exhaustion appear in his eloquent and powerful speech. Every point telling in favour of the prisoner was given due prominence, and the utmost was made of the somewhat flimsy material of the alibi; the whole address forms a fine example of forensic oratory.
At half-past four o’clock the Lord Justice-Clerk—who is said never to have left the bench since the proceedings began—delivered his charge to the jury, which, one is glad to find, notwithstanding what had previously occurred, was a fair and impartial review of the evidence. His Lordship having concluded his charge at six o’clock on Thursday morning, the Court adjourned until one o’clock afternoon; the jury were inclosed; and the prisoners taken back to prison.
The Edinburgh Advertiser remarks—“Mr. Brodie’s behaviour during the whole trial was perfectly collected. He was respectful to the Court, and when anything ludicrous occurred in the evidence he smiled as if he had been an indifferent spectator.”