The Special Commission appointed to judge the case of Governor Wall met on the 20th of January 1802. At nine o’clock in the morning the Court assembled in all the majesty of a State trial. Its president was Sir Archibald Macdonald, Chief Baron of the Exchequer, a political Scot who, like many of his betters, owed his position to a wife. Sir Giles Rooke of Common Pleas, and Sir Soulden Lawrence of King’s Bench, two merciful and kind-hearted judges, sat on either side to give assistance. Never was there a more formidable array of counsel for the Crown. Grim and spiteful Attorney-General Edward Law; the urbane and much-underrated Spencer Perceval, Solicitor-General; Thomas Plumer, George Wood, and Charles Abbott, all three destined to hold distinguished positions on the Bench; and lastly, William Fielding, who, like his more famous father, became a London magistrate. Nor were the three barristers for the defence less illustrious: Newman Knowlys was appointed Recorder of London; John Gurney, one of the greatest of criminal advocates, rose to be a judge; and Alley, defender number three, was as astute a lawyer as any of the rest. No shudder of sympathy sweeps through the crowded court as the figure of the crimson giant passes into the dock. Outside swell the low growls of a gutter-wallowing mob; within, every heart cries aloud for vengeance upon the grim tyrant. Joseph Wall faces his accusers, as he faced all enemies, with fearless eyes and undaunted soul. From the firm, martial tread and high, unbent brow, none would judge that this is an old man, who has lived for sixty-five years. At the close of the indictment the voice of the prisoner rings through the court, to the surprise of all. “My lord,” he exclaims, “I cannot hear in this place. I hope your lordship will permit me to sit near my counsel.” “It is perfectly impossible,” stammers the scandalised scion of the Lords of the Isles. “There is a regular place appointed by law. I can make no invidious distinction.” Jaundice-souled Law opens the attack in most persuasive cut-throat manner, compelled to be fair in spite of his opportunity by reason of instinctive tolerance for all savouring of bloodthirsty tyranny. Pinning the jury down to the first indictment, he bids them think only of the fustigation of Armstrong. “Can the prisoner prove a mutiny?” is Law’s reiterated demand. “You cannot flay soldiers alive, unless they deserve it!”