Meantime his fame at the bar ascended rapidly. His powerful memory, wakeful vigilance, and knowledge of those with whom he had to deal, enabled him to conduct cases with wonderful skill. He defended the Dean of Asaph in a speech of much merit and high courage; and in 1786 was appointed Attorney-general to the Prince of Wales, an office of which he was deprived for appearing, with dauntless determination, on behalf of the notorious Thomas Paine, author of “the Rights of Man,” in spite of the threatening frowns of royal power and the suggestive warnings of northern craft. Though bold and conscientious above all others in the performance of his duty, Erskine had good reason to say to his admirers, “Gentlemen, I am but a man.” He had, indeed, a considerable amount of vanity in his nature, and even in his best days liked well, after the case had been called, to keep a crowded and impatient audience waiting in court for a few minutes till he should make his appearance with something like stage effect. When he entered, to conduct some most important case on which, perhaps, he believed “the last and best gift of God to his creatures” depended, it was a little too apparent to intelligent spectators that his new yellow gloves and carefully-dressed wig were recognized by him as essential parts of the solemn proceedings. But if he did too assiduously cultivate popular favor he can not be justly accused of having shrunk from fear of court proscription, even when his fortunes hung trembling in the balance. The period of the state trials was that of Erskine’s greatest triumph and highest popularity. His grave, sturdy, and sensible-looking antagonist, on that occasion, was Sir John Scott, afterward Lord Eldon, who had worthily risen to distinction by “living like a hermit and working like a horse.” He was then attorney-general, and his duty, as public prosecutor, could hardly have been very agreeable. Indeed, he seemed at times to have been in no small danger from the excitement of the mob, who daily bestowed upon Erskine frenzied applause. After the acquittal of Hardy, the ringleaders insisted upon taking the horses out of the brilliant counsel’s carriage, that they might draw him to his house in triumph. Years after, when he was relating this circumstance in presence of Lord Eldon, that distinguished personage managed to turn the laugh against his old opponent by adding, with quiet humor, “Yes, and I believe you never saw more of them.” In 1802 Erskine visited Paris, and was presented to the Emperor Napoleon, then First Consul, who, however, only honored him with the single question, “_Êtes vous légiste?_” On returning home, he was restored to his office of Attorney-general to the Prince of Wales, who revived in his favor the dormant functions of Chancellor to the Duchy of Cornwall.