in whom they trust. This right is based
on the first principles of reason and of
justice, the essential and indefeasible right
of natural defence. If you prevent my
defending my honour, liberty, and life, by
my own voice, when I will and when I
can, and, when that fails me, by his whom
I believe to be the most enlightened, virtuous,
upright, and the most careful of my
interests, then you are violating at once this
holy law of nature and of justice, and all
the principles of social order." The man
who so spoke was called Maximilian Robespierre!

In 1804, much against his will (for he
had no love for lawyers), Napoleon decreed
the restoration of the order, though he
altogether declined to trust such pestilent
fellows with free liberty of speech; making
rules for them as strict as any that had
been laid down by St. Louis, and much of
the same kind. We will cite part of one
of these rules, now in force, before parting
with the French advocate: " We forbid
the advocates to be insolently or offensively
personal to the opposite party or his
counsel, and to make any grave charge
against their honour and reputation, unless
the necessity of the case requires it; and
they are expressly instructed in writing to
make such charge, by their clients, or their
clients' attorneys." One other quotation may
be appended, from an ordinance of 1822:
"Any attack an advocate may be induced
to make in his pleading, or in writing,
upon religion, the principles of the
monarchy, the charter, the laws of the kingdom,
or upon established authorities, shall
be immediately suppressed by the court."

The right of being represented by counsel
in criminal cases, declared illegal by
Chancellor Poyet, about the middle of the
sixteenth century, at which date entire secrecy
of procedure was introduced into the French
criminal code—a system confirmed a
hundred-and-fifty years later, on a general
revision of the law—is, as we have said, of
recent origin in France; but in spite of the
law, the judges as a rule seem always to
have permitted, where they could, some
communication between a prisoner and an
advocate, though the latter might not
appear in behalf of the accused. Our
English system, notwithstanding, M. le
Berquier's theories of the right of defence,
which in this free country ought according
to him to have been universally recognised,
offers a close parallel to this. It is
all very well for a French writer, extolling
the land of liberty at the expense of his
own, to be enthusiastic over the autonomy
of the English bar, and its glorious results;
but until the revolution of 1688,
our system of criminal law, if system it can
be called (and it is in criminal trials that
justice claims the fullest deliberation, and
advocacy has its widest field), was a horror
to think upon. It is bad enough now;
divorced in most of its principles from
common sense and reason, but then! "It
would be difficult to name a trial," writes
Phillips in his preface to the State Trials,
"not marked by some violation of the first
principles of criminal justice." Until 1695,
no counsel was allowed to any man accused
of "treason," or "felony," in any shape,
but in cases of "misdemeanour" alone,
"unless some points of law arose proper to
be debated."  Even Jeffreys felt the wickedness
of the system. " I think it is a hard
case," he said, "that a man should have
counsel to defend himself for a twopenny
trespass, and his witnesses examined upon
oath; but if he steal, commit murder, or
felony, nay, high treason, where life, estate,
honour, and all are concerned, he shall
neither have counsel nor his witnesses
examined upon oath."

In 1695, the first reform was effected,
and the assistance of counsel was allowed
in cases of high treason of what we may
call the first class. And the act being
appointed to take effect from the 25th of
March in the ensuing year, Sir William
Parkyn was tried before Chief Justice Holt
on the 24th of the same month, and
refused the aid of counsel by that upright
judge on the ground that he must proceed
"according to what the law is, and not
what it will be;" a postponement of the
case for a day being prayed in vain. Fifty
years passed before the provisions of the
statute of 1695 were extended to all cases
of treason; while for charges of ordinary
felony prisoners were refused professional
aid until, in legal phraseology, the "sixth
and seventh " of William the Fourth;
when, on the ground that "it is just and
reasonable that persons accused of offences
against the law should be enabled to
make their full answer and defence to
all that is alleged against them," the last,
let us hope not the final, reform in the
direction of common sense was made.
Shall we live, any of us—will any Englishman
ever live—to see the full recognition
in this country of the startling theory, that
the main object of trying a man for a crime
is to find out whether he committed it or
not? And that the best way to find it out
would be to ask the prisoner himself a few
questions on the subject, within limits