An attempt was made, through Mr. Erasmus Lewis, of the Secretary of State’s office (a witness for the bishop), to get at one secret, the unveiling of which would have served Atterbury materially. Mr. Lewis was asked what he knew of the ability or habit of one Brocket, a clerk in that office, in counterfeiting the handwriting of other people? Two-thirds of the judicial assembly seem to have started with terror at the audacity of the question; and they speedily resolved that ‘it was not proper that Mr. Lewis should be examined on any thing relating to government, which came to his knowledge by being employed in the Secretary of State’s office.’ Notwithstanding this rebuke, Mr. Lewis did contrive to let it be known that Brocket was a clever imitator of handwriting; and it was proved that even from a broken seal of an opened letter an impression could be taken, from which a new seal could be engraved. Phipps, in his rejoinder to the prosecuting counsel, dwelt upon these points. Wynne then took up the theme, and pursued it for hours, ending his speech with this singular peroration: ‘I hope I may venture to affirm that there does not now remain the least suspicion of the charge brought against the bishop; not even the least suspicion of a suspicion of high treason; not the probability of a probability, nor the presumption of a presumption.’ [Sidenote: _ATTERBURY’S DEFENCE._] Undoubtedly the most sensational incident of the whole proceeding was when Atterbury rose on the 11th of May to speak in his own behalf. He kept his judges gravely intent for two hours. He introduced much matter that was little to the purpose, and all the rest was special pleading. He dared not――at least he did not――boldly assert, ‘I am guiltless!’ but he urged to this effect, ‘You cannot prove me guilty!’ One sample will be as good as the whole measure.――‘As to that part of the accusation where it is said the letter to “Jackson” was a letter to the Pretender, I have nothing to do with it. (!) He that writ that letter, when known, will best be able, and most concerned, to disprove it.’ The bishop added, and well might he add, ‘This objection carries a very odd sound,’ but he maintained that it rested on reasonable grounds. His reasoning often wandered from the mark, which does not surprise a reader who is now aware of the bishop’s guilt. At one moment he asserted there was no proof at all. At another, that there was only very weak proof――nothing but the hearsay of a hearsay. He alluded to his bodily infirmities; the insults he had received in the Tower; his Protestant orthodoxy; the calm, unplotting tenour of his life; and the probable ruin that revolution would bring down upon him as an ecclesiastic and a peer of Parliament. If his judges proved severe in their conclusions, he hoped mercy would be extended to him; but still, naked he came into the world, and so would go out of it; and whether the Lord gave or took away, blessed be the name of the Lord!’