Bathurst began his address for the Crown. Though promoted later to
the highest judicial office, he has been described as "the least
efficient Lord Chancellor of the eighteenth century." Lord Campbell,
in his _Lives of the Chancellors_, says that Bathurst's address was
much praised for its eloquence, and "as it certainly contains proof
of good feeling, if not of high talent and refined taste," his
lordship transcribes for the benefit of his readers certain of its
purpler passages. It was deemed worthy, at the time, of publication
in separate form, with highly eulogistic notes, wherein we read that
by its eloquent appeal both judges and counsel "were moved to mourn,
nay, to weep like tenderest infants." The prisoner, however, heard
it dry-eyed, nor will its effect be more melting for the modern
reader. At the outset the learned counsel observed, with reference
to the heinous nature of the crime, that he was not surprised "at
this vast concourse of people collected together," from which it
appears there were few vacant seats that morning in the Divinity
School. Space will not permit us to accompany the future Lord
Chancellor through his "most affecting oration," which presents the
case for the Crown with moderation and fairness, and concludes with
a tribute to the "indefatigable diligence" of the Earl of
Macclesfield and Lord Cadogan "in inquiring into this hidden work of
darkness." He was followed by Serjeant Hayward, who, employing a
more rhetorical and florid style, was probably better appreciated by
the audience, but added little to the jury's knowledge of the facts.
In an "improving" passage he besought "the young gentlemen of this
University," who seem to have been well represented, to guard
against the first insidious approaches of vice. "See here," said he,
"the dreadful consequences of disobedience to a parent."

We need not examine in detail the evidence led for the prosecution;