Chapter II: Part 2

But before I do so, just allow me to point your attention to the motives of this young gentleman. The Attorney-General has threatened him with fine and a dungeon; he has told Mr. Magee that he should suffer in his purse and in his person. Mr. Magee knew his danger well. Mr. Magee, before he published this paper, was quite apprised that he ran the risk of fine and of imprisonment. He knew also that if he changed his tone--that if he became merely neutral, but especially if he went over to the other side and praised the Duke of Richmond--if he had sufficient gravity to talk, without a smile, of the sorrow of the people of Ireland at his Grace’s departure--if he had a visage sufficiently lugubrious to say so without laughing, to cry out “mournfully, oh! mournfully!” for the departure of the Duke of Richmond--if, at a period when the people of Ireland, from Magherafelt to Dingledecouch, are rejoicing at that departure, Mr. Magee could put on a solemn countenance and pick up a grave and narcotic accent, and have the resolution to assert the sorrow of the people for losing so sweet and civil a Lord Lieutenant--why, in that case, gentlemen, you know the consequences. They are obvious. He might libel certain classes of his Majesty’s subjects with impunity; he would get abundance of money, a place, and a pension--you know he would. The proclamations would be inserted in his paper. The wide-street advertisements, the ordnance, the barrack-board notices, and the advertisements of all the other public boards and offices--you can scarcely calculate how much money he sacrifices to his principles. I am greatly within bounds when I say at least £5000 per annum, of the public money, would reach him if he was to alter his tone, and abandon his opinions.

Has he instructed me to boast of the sacrifices he thus makes? No, gentlemen, no, no; he deems it no sacrifice because he desires no share in the public plunder; but I introduce this topic to demonstrate to you the purity of his intentions. He cannot be actuated, in the part he takes, by mean or mercenary motives; it is not the base lucre of gain that leads him astray. If he be mistaken, he is, at least, disinterested and sincere. You may dislike his political opinions, but you cannot avoid respecting the independence of his principles.

Behold, now, the publication which this man of pure principles is called to answer for as a libel. It commences thus:--

“DUKE OF RICHMOND.

“As the Duke of Richmond will shortly retire from the government of Ireland, it has been deemed necessary to take such a review of his administration as may at least warn his successor from pursuing the errors of his Grace’s conduct.

“The review shall contain many anecdotes of the Irish court which were never published, and which were so secret, that his Grace will not fail to be surprised at the sight of them in a newspaper.”

In this paragraph there is nothing libellous; it talks of the errors, indeed, of his Grace’s administration; but I do not think the Attorney-General will venture to suggest that the gentle expression of “errors” is a libel.

To err, gentlemen, is human: and his Grace is admitted, by the Attorney-General, to be but a man; I shall waste none of your time in proving that we may, without offence, treat of his “errors.” But this is not even the errors of the man, but of his administration; it was not infallible, I humbly presume.

I call your particular attention to the third paragraph; it runs thus:--

“If the administration of the Duke of Richmond had been conducted with more than ordinary talent, its errors might in some degree have been atoned for by its ability, and the people of Ireland though they might have much to regret, yet would have something to admire; but truly after the gravest consideration, they must find themselves at a loss to discover any striking feature in his Grace’s administration, that makes it superior to the worst of his predecessors.”

The Attorney-General dwelt much upon this paragraph, gentlemen, and the importance which he attached to it furnishes a strong illustration of his own consciousness of the weakness of his case. What is the meaning of this paragraph? I appeal to you whether it be more than this: that there has been nothing admirable in this administration; that there has not been much ability displayed by it. So far, gentlemen, there is, indeed, no flattery, but still less of libel, unless you are prepared to say that to withhold praise from any administration deserves punishment.

Is it an indictable offence not to perceive its occult talents? Why, if it be, find my client guilty of not being a sycophant and a flatterer, and send him to prison for two years, to gratify the Attorney-General, who tells you that the Duke of Richmond is the _best_ chief governor Ireland ever saw.

But the mischief, I am told, lies in the art of the sentence. Why, all that it says is, that it is difficult to discover the striking features that distinguish this from bad administrations. It does not, gentlemen, assert that no such striking features exist, much less does it assert that no features of that kind exist, or that such features, although not striking, are not easily discernible. So that, really, you are here again required to convict a man for not flattering. He thinks an administration untalented and silly; that is no crime; he says it has not been marked with talent or ability--that it has no striking features; all this may be mistaken and false, yet there is nothing in it that resembles a crime.

And, gentlemen, _if it be true_--if this _be_ a foolish administration, can it be an offence to say so? If it has had no striking features to distinguish it from bad administrations, can it be criminal to say so? Are you prepared to say that not one word of truth can be told under no less a penalty than years of a dungeon and heavy fines?

Recollect, that the Attorney-General told you that the Press was the protection of the people against the government. Good Heaven! gentlemen, how can it protect the people against the government, if it be a crime to say of that government that it has committed errors, displays little talent, and has no striking features? Did the prosecutor mock you, when he talked of the protection the Press afforded to the people? If he did not insult you by the admission of that upon which he will not allow you to act, let me ask, against what is the Press to protect the people? When do the people want protection? When the government is engaged in delinquencies, oppression, and crimes. It is against these that the people want the protection of the Press. Now, I put it to your plain sense, whether the Press can afford such protection, if it be punished for treating of these crimes.

Still more, can a shadow of protection be given by a Press that is not permitted to mention the errors, the talents, and the striking features of an administration? Here is a watchman admitted by the Attorney-General to be at his post to warn the people of their danger, and the first thing that is done to this watchman is to knock him down and bring him to a dungeon, for announcing the danger he is bound to disclose. I agree with the Attorney-General, the Press is a protection, but it is not in its silence or in its voice of flattery. It can protect only by speaking out when there is danger, or error, or want of ability. If the harshness of this tone be complained of, I ask, what is it the Attorney-General would have? Does he wish that this protection should speak so as not to be understood; or, I again repeat it, does he mean to delude us with the name and the mockery of protection? Upon this ground, I defy you to find a verdict for the prosecutor, without declaring that he has been guilty of an attempt to deceive when he talked of the protection of the Press against errors, ignorance, and incapacity, which it is not to dare even to name. Gentlemen, upon this third paragraph, I am entitled to your verdict, upon the Attorney-General’s own admission.

He, indeed, passed on to the next sentence with an air of triumph, with the apparent certainty of its producing a conviction; I meet him upon it--I read it boldly--I will discuss it with you manfully--it is this:--

“They insulted, they oppressed, they murdered, and they deceived.”

The Attorney-General told us, rather ludicrously, that they, meaning the Duke’s predecessors, included, of course, himself. How a man could be included amongst his predecessors, it would be difficult to discover. It seems to be that mode of expression which would indicate that the Attorney-General, notwithstanding his foreign descent, has imbibed some of the language of the native Irish. But our blunders arise not like this, from a confusion of idea; they are generally caused by too great condensation of thought; they are, indeed, frequently of the head, but never--never of the heart. Would I could say so much for the Attorney-General; his blunder is not to be attributed to his cool and cautious head; it sprung, I much fear, from the misguided bitterness of the bigotry of his heart.

Well, gentlemen, this sentence does, in broad and distinct terms, charge the predecessors of the Duke, but not the Duke himself, with insult, oppression, murder, and deceit. But it is history, gentlemen: are you prepared to silence the voice of history? Are you disposed to suppress the recital of facts--the story of the events of former days? Is the historian, and the publisher of history, to be exposed to indictment and punishment?

Let me read for you two passages from Doctor Leland’s “History of Ireland.” I choose a remote period, to avoid shocking your prejudices by the recital of the more modern crimes of the faction to which most of you belong. Attend to this passage, gentlemen.

“Anno 1574.--A solemn peace and concord was made between the Earl of Essex and Felim O’Nial. However, at a feast, wherein the Earl entertained that chieftain, and at the end of their good cheer, O’Nial, with his wife, were seized; their friends, who attended, were put to the sword before their faces. Felim, together with his wife and brother, were conveyed to Dublin, where they were _cut up in quarters_.”

How would you have this fact described? In what ladylike terms is the future historian to mention this savage and brutal massacre? Yet Essex was an English nobleman--a predecessor of his Grace; he was accomplished, gallant, and gay; the envied paramour of the virgin queen; and, if he afterwards fell on the scaffold, one of the race of the ancient Irish may be permitted to indulge the fond superstition that would avenge the royal blood of the O’Nial and of his consort on their perfidious English murderer.

But my soul fills with bitterness, and I will read of no more Irish murders. I turn, however, to another page, and I will introduce to your notice another predecessor of his Grace the Duke of Richmond. It is Grey, who, after the recall of Essex, commanded the English forces in Munster. The fort of Smerwick, in Kerry, surrendered to Grey at discretion. It contained some Irish troops, and more than 700 Spaniards. The historian shall tell you the rest:--

“That mercy for which they sued was rigidly denied them. Wingfield was commissioned to disarm them, and when this service was performed, an English company was sent into the fort.

“The Irish rebels found they were reserved for execution by martial law.

“The Italian general and some officers were made prisoners of war: but the garrison _was butchered in cold blood_; nor is it without pain that we find a service so horrid and detestable committed to Sir Walter Raleigh.”

“The garrison was butchered in cold blood,” says the historian. Furnish us, Mr. Attorney-General, with gentle accents and sweet words to speak of this savage atrocity; or will you indict the author? Alas! he is dead, full of years and respect--as faithful an historian as the prejudices of his day would allow, and a beneficed clergyman of your church.

Gentlemen of the jury, what is the mild language of this paper compared with the indignant language of history? Raleigh--the ill-starred Raleigh--fell a victim to a tyrant master, a corrupt or overawed jury, and a virulent Attorney-General; he was baited at the bar with language more scurrilous and more foul than that you heard yesterday poured upon my client. Yet, what atonement to civilization could his death afford for the horrors I have mentioned?

Decide, now, gentlemen, between those libels--between that defamer’s history and my client. He calls those predecessors of his Grace, murderers. History has left the living records of their crimes, from the O’Nial, treacherously slaughtered, to the cruel, cold butchery of the defenceless prisoners. Until I shall see the publishers of Leland and of Hume brought to your bar, I defy you to convict my client.

To show you that my client has treated these predecessors of his Grace with great lenity, I will introduce to your notice one, and only one, more of them; and he, too, fell on the scaffold--the unfortunate Strafford, the best servant a despotic king could desire.

Amongst the means taken to raise money in Ireland for James the First and his son Charles, a proceeding called “a commission to inquire into defective titles” was invented. It was a scheme, gentlemen, to inquire of every man what right he had to his own property, and to have it solemnly and legally determined that he had none. To effectuate this scheme required great management, discretion, and integrity. First, there were 4000 excellent horse raised for the purpose of being, as Strafford himself said, “good lookers-on.” The rest of the arrangement I would recommend to modern practice; it would save much trouble. I will shortly abstract it from two of Strafford’s own letters.

The one appears to have been written by him to the Lord Treasurer; it is dated the 3d December, 1634. He begins with an apology for not having been more expeditious in this work of plunder, for his employers were, it seems, impatient at the melancholy waste of time. He then says:--

“Howbeit, I will redeem the time as much as I can, with such as may give furtherance to the king’s title, _and will inquire out fit men to serve upon the juries_.”

Take notice of that, gentlemen, I pray you; perhaps you thought that the “packing of juries” was a modern invention--a new discovery. You see how greatly mistaken you were; the thing has example and precedent to support it, and the authority of both are, in our law, quite conclusive.

The next step was to corrupt--oh, no, to interest the wise and learned judges. But commentary becomes unnecessary when I read for you this passage from a letter of his to the King, dated the 9th of December, 1636:--

“Your Majesty was graciously pleased, upon my humble advice, to bestow four shillings in the pound upon your Lord Chief Justice and Lord Chief Baron in this kingdom, fourth of the first yearly rent raised upon the commission of defective title, which, _upon observation, I find to be the best given that ever was_. For now they do intend it, with a care and diligence, such as if it were their own private, and most certain gaining to themselves; every four shillings once paid, shall better your revenue forever after, at least five pounds.”

Thus, gentlemen of the jury, all was ready for the mockery of law and justice, called a trial.

Now, let me take any one of you; let me place him here, where Mr. Magee stands; let him have his property at stake; let it be of less value, I pray you, than a compensation for two years’ imprisonment; it will, however, be of sufficient value to interest and rouse all your agony and anxiety. If you were so placed here, you would see before you the well-paid Attorney-General, perhaps, malignantly delighted to pour his rancor upon you; on the bench would sit the corrupt and partisan judge, and before you, on that seat which you now occupy, would be placed the packed and predetermined jury.

I beg, sir, to know what would be your feelings, your honor, your rage; would you not compare the Attorney-General to the gambler who played with a loaded die? and then you would hear him talk, in solemn and monotonous tones, of his conscience! Oh, his conscience, gentlemen of the jury!

But the times are altered. The Press, the Press, gentlemen, has effectuated a salutary revolution; a commission of defective titles would no longer be tolerated; the judges can no longer be bribed with money, and juries can no longer be----I must not say it. Yes, they can, you know--we all know they can be still _inquired out_, and “packed,” as the technical phrase is. But _you_, who are not packed, _you_, who have been _fairly_ selected, will see that the language of the publication before us is mildness itself, compared with that which the truth of history requires--compared with that which history has already used.

I proceed with this alleged libel.

The next sentence is this:--

“The profligate, unprincipled Westmoreland”--I throw down the paper and address myself in particular to some of you. There are, I see, amongst you some of our Bible distributors, “and of our suppressors of vice.” Distributors of Bibles, suppressors of vice--what call you profligacy? What is it you would call profligacy? Suppose the peerage was exposed to sale--set up at open auction--it was at that time a judicial office--suppose that its price, the exact price of this judicial office, was accurately ascertained by daily experience--would you call that profligacy? If pensions were multiplied beyond bounds and beyond example--if places were augmented until invention was exhausted, and then were subdivided and split into halves, so that two might take the emoluments of each, and no person do the duty--if these acts were resorted to in order to corrupt your representatives--would you, gentle suppressors of vice, call that profligacy?

If the father of children selected in the open day his adulterous paramour--if the wedded mother of children displayed her crime unblushingly--if the assent of the titled or untitled wittol to his own shame was purchased with the people’s money--if this scene--if these were enacted in the open day, would you call that profligacy, sweet distributors of Bibles? The women of Ireland have always been beauteous to a proverb; they were, without an exception, chaste beyond the terseness of a proverb to express; they are still as chaste as in former days, but the depraved example of a depraved court has furnished some exceptions, and the action of criminal conversation, before the time of Westmoreland unknown, has since become more familiar to our courts of justice.

Call you the sad example which produced those exceptions--call you _that_ profligacy, suppressors of vice and Bible distributors? The vices of the poor are within the reach of control; to suppress them, you can call in aid the churchwarden and the constable; the justice of the peace will readily aid you, for he is a gentleman--the Court of Sessions will punish those vices for you by fine, by imprisonment, and, if you are urgent, by whipping. But, suppressors of vice, who shall aid you to suppress the vices of the great? Are you sincere, or are you, to use your own phraseology, whitewashed tombs--painted charnel-houses? Be ye hypocrites? If you are not--if you be sincere, (and, oh, how I wish that you were)--if you be sincere, I will steadily require to know of you, what aid you expect, to suppress the vices of the rich and great? Who will assist you to suppress those vices? The churchwarden!!--why he, I believe, handed _them_ into the best pew in one of your cathedrals, that they might lovingly hear Divine service together. The constable!! Absurd. The justice of the peace!!--no, upon his honor. As to the Court of Sessions, you cannot expect it to interfere; and my lords the judges are really so busy at the assizes, in hurrying the grand juries through the presentments, that there is no leisure to look after the scandalous faults of the great. Who, then, sincere and candid suppressors of vice, can aid you?--_The Press_; the Press alone talks of the profligacy of the great; and, at least, shames into decency those whom it may fail to correct. The Press is your, but your only assistant. Go, then, men of conscience, men of religion--go, then, and convict John Magee, because he published that Westmoreland was profligate and unprincipled as a Lord Lieutenant--do, convict, and then return to your distribution of Bibles and to your attacks upon the recreations of the poor, under the name of vices!

Do, convict the only aid which virtue has, and distribute your Bibles that you may have the name of being religious; upon your sincerity depends my client’s prospect of a verdict. _Does_ he lean upon a broken reed?

I pass on from the sanctified portion of the jury which I have latterly addressed, and I call the attention of you all to the next member of the sentence:--

“The cold-hearted and cruel Camden.”

Here I have your prejudices all armed against me. In the administration of Camden, your faction was cherished and triumphant. Will you prevent him to be called cold and cruel? Alas! to-day, why have I not men to address who would listen to me for the sake of impartial justice! But even with _you_ the case is too powerful to allow me to despair.

Well, _I do_ say, the cold and cruel Camden. Why, on _one circuit_, during his administration, there were _one hundred individuals tried before one judge; of these ninety-eight were capitally convicted, and ninety-seven hanged_! I understand _one_ escaped; but he was a _soldier_ who murdered a _peasant_, or something of that _trivial_ nature--_ninety-seven_ victims in one circuit!!!

In the meantime, it was necessary, for the purposes of the Union, that the flame of rebellion should be fed. The meetings of the rebel colonels in the north were, for a length of time, regularly reported to government; but the rebellion was not then ripe enough; and whilst the fruit was coming to maturity, under the fostering hand of the administration, the wretched dupes atoned on the gallows for allowing themselves to be deceived.

In the meantime the soldiery were turned in at free quarters amongst the wives and daughters of the peasantry!!!

Have you heard of Abercrombie, the valiant and the good--he who, mortally wounded, neglected his wound until victory was ascertained--he who allowed his life’s stream to flow unnoticed because his country’s battle was in suspense--he who died the martyr of victory--he who commenced the career of glory on the land, and taught French insolence, than which there is nothing so permanent--even transplanted, it exhibits itself to the third and fourth generation--he taught French insolence, that the British and Irish soldier was as much his superior by land, as the sailor was confessedly by sea--he, in short, who commenced that career which has since placed the Irish Wellington on the highest pinnacle of glory? Abercrombie and Moore were in Ireland under Camden. Moore, too, has since fallen at the moment of triumph--Moore, the best of sons, of brothers, of friends, of men--the soldier and the scholar--the soul of reason and the heart of pity--Moore has, in documents of which you may plead ignorance, left his opinions upon record with respect to the cruelty of Camden’s administration. But you all have heard of Abercrombie’s proclamation, for it amounted to that; he proclaimed that cruelty in terms the most unequivocal; he stated to the soldiery and to the nation, that the conduct of the Camden administration had rendered “the soldiery formidable to all but the enemy.”

Was there no cruelty in thus degrading the British soldier? And say, was not the process by which that degradation was effectuated cruelty? Do, then, contradict Abercrombie, upon your oaths, if you dare; but, by doing so, it is not my client alone you will convict--you will also convict yourselves of the foul crime of perjury.

I now come to the third branch of this sentence; and here I have an easy task. All, gentlemen, that is said of the artificer and superintendent of the Union is this--“the artful and treacherous Cornwallis.” Is it necessary to prove that the Union was effectuated by artifice and treachery? For my part, it makes my blood boil when I think of the unhappy period which was contrived and seized on to carry it into effect; one year sooner, and it would have been a revolution--one year later, and it would have been forever impossible to carry it. The moment was artfully and treacherously seized on, and _our_ country, that _was_ a nation for countless ages, has dwindled into a province, and her name and her glory are extinct forever.

I should not waste a moment upon this part of the case, but that the gentlemen at the other side who opposed that measure have furnished me with some topics which I may not, cannot, omit. Indeed, Mr. Magee deserves no verdict from any Irish jury who can hesitate to think that the contriver of the Union is treated with too much lenity in this sentence; he fears your disapprobation for speaking with so little animosity of the artificer of the Union.

There was one piece of treachery committed at that period, at which both you and I equally rejoice; it was the breach of faith towards the leading Catholics; the written promises made them at that period have been since printed; I rejoice with you that they were not fulfilled; when the Catholic trafficked for his own advantage upon his country’s miseries, he deserved to be deceived. For this mockery, I thank the Cornwallis administration. _I rejoice, also, that my first introduction to the stage of public life, was in the opposition to that measure._

In humble and obscure distance, I followed the footsteps of my present adversaries. What their sentiments were then of the authors of the Union, I beg to read to you; I will read them from a newspaper set up for the mere purpose of opposing the Union, and conducted under the control of these gentlemen.[5]

* * * * *

Having followed the prosecutor through this weary digression, I return to the next sentence of this publication. Yet I cannot--I must detain you still a little longer from it, whilst I supplicate your honest indignation, if in your resentments there be aught of honesty, against the mode in which the Attorney-General has introduced the name of our aged and afflicted sovereign. He says this is a libel on the King, because it imputes to him a selection of improper and criminal chief governors. Gentlemen, this is the very acme of servile doctrine. It is the most unconstitutional doctrine that could be uttered: it supposes that the sovereign is responsible for the acts of his servants, whilst the constitution declares that the King can do no wrong, and that even for his personal acts, his servants shall be personally responsible. Thus, the Attorney-General reverses for you the constitution in theory; and, in point of fact, where can be found, in this publication, any, even the slightest allusion to his Majesty? The theory is against the Attorney-General, and yet, contrary to the fact, and against the theory, he seeks to enlist another prejudice of yours against Mr. Magee.

Prejudice did I call it? Oh, no! it is no prejudice; that sentiment which combines respect with affection for my aged sovereign, suffering under a calamity with which heaven has willed to visit him, but which is not due to any default of his. There never was a sentiment that I should wish to see more cherished--more honored. To you the King may appear an object of respect; to his Catholic subjects he is one of veneration; to them he has been a bountiful benefactor. To the utter disregard of your aldermen of Skinner’s-alley, and the more pompous magnates of William-street, his Majesty procured, at his earnest solicitation from Parliament, the restoration of much of our liberties. He disregarded your anti-Popery petitions. He treated with calm indifference the ebullitions of your bigotry; and I owe to him that I have the honor of standing in the proud situation from which I am able, if not to protect my client, at least to pour the indignant torrent of my discourse against his enemies, and those of his country.

The publication to which I now recall you, goes to describe the effects of the facts which I have shown you to have been drawn from the undisputed and authentic history of former times. I have, I hope, convinced you that neither Leland nor Hume could have been indicted for stating those facts, and it would be a very strange perversion of principle, which would allow you to convict Mr. Magee for that which has been stated by other writers, not only without punishment, but with applause.

That part of the paragraph which relates to the present day is in these words:--

“Since that period the complexion of the times has changed--the country has advanced--it has outgrown submission, _and some forms, at least, must now be observed towards the people_.

“The system, however, is still the same; it is the old play with new decorations, presented in an age somewhat more enlightened; the principle of government remains unaltered--a principle of exclusion which debars the majority of the people from the enjoyment of those privileges that are possessed by the minority, and which must, therefore, maintain itself by all those measures necessary for a government founded on injustice.”

The prosecutor insists that this is the most libellous part of the entire publication. I am glad he does so; because if there be amongst you a single particle of discrimination, you cannot fail to perceive that this is not a libel--that this paragraph cannot constitute any crime. It states that the present is a system of exclusion. Surely, it is no crime to say so; it is what you all say. It is what the Attorney-General himself gloried in. This is, said he, exclusively a Protestant government. Mr. Magee and he are agreed. Mr. Magee adds that a principle of exclusion on account of religion, is founded on injustice. Gentlemen, if a Protestant were to be excluded from any temporal advantages upon the score of his religion, would not you say that the principle upon which he was excluded was unjust? That is precisely what Mr. Magee says; for the principle which excludes the Catholic in Ireland, would exclude the Protestant in Spain and in Portugal, and then you clearly admit its justice. So that, really, you would condemn yourselves, and your own opinions, and the right to be a Protestant in Spain and Portugal, if you condemn this sentiment.

But I would have you further observe that this is no more than the discussion of an abstract principle of government; it arraigns not the conduct of any individual, or of any administration; it only discusses and decides upon the moral fitness of a certain theory, on which the management of the affairs of Ireland has been conducted. If this be a crime, we are all criminals; for this question, whether it be just or not to exclude from power and office a class of the people for religion, is the subject of daily--of hourly discussion. The Attorney-General says it is quite just; I proclaim it to be unjust--obviously unjust. At all public meetings, in all private companies, this point is decided different ways, according to the temper and the interest of individuals. Indeed, it is but too much the topic of every man’s discourse; and the gaols and the barracks of the country would not contain the hundredth part of those with whom the Attorney-General would have to crowd them if it be penal to call the principle of exclusion unjust. In this court, without the least danger of interruption or reproof, I proclaim the injustice of that principle.

I will then ask whether it be lawful to print that which it is not unlawful to proclaim in the face of a court of justice? And above all, I will ask whether it can be criminal to discuss the abstract principles of government? Is the theory of the law a prohibited subject? I had understood that there was no right so clear and undoubted as that of discussing abstract and theoretic principles, and their applicability to practicable purposes. For the first time do I hear this disputed; and now see what it is the Attorney-General prohibits. He insists upon punishing Mr. Magee; first, because he accuses his administration of “errors”; secondly, because he charges them with not being distinguished for “talents”; thirdly, because he cannot discover their “striking features”; and fourthly, because he discusses an “abstract principle”!

This is quite intelligible--this is quite tangible. I begin to understand what the Attorney-General means by the liberty of the Press; it means a prohibition of printing anything except praise respecting “_the errors, the talents, or the striking features_” of any administration, and of discussing any _abstract principle of government_. Thus the forbidden subjects are errors, talents, striking features, and principles. Neither the theory of the government nor its practices are to be discussed; you may, indeed, praise them; you may call the Attorney-General “the best and wisest of men”; you may call his lordship the most learned and impartial of all possible chief justices; you may, if you have powers of visage sufficient, call the Lord Lieutenant the best of all imaginable governors. That, gentlemen, is the boasted liberty of the Press--the liberty that exists in Constantinople--the liberty of applying the most fulsome and unfounded flattery, but not one word of censure or reproof.

Here is an idol worthy of the veneration of the Attorney-General. Yes; he talked of his veneration for the liberty of the Press; he also talked of its being a protection to the people against the government. Protection! Not against errors--not against the want of talents or striking features--nor against the effort of any unjust principle--protection! Against what is it to protect? Did he not mock you? Did he not plainly and palpably delude you, when he talked of the protection of the Press? Yes. To his inconsistencies and contradictions he calls on you to sacrifice your consciences; and because you are no-Popery men, and distributors of Bibles, and aldermen of Skinner’s-alley, and Protestant petitioners, he requires of you to brand your souls with perjury. You cannot escape it; it is, it must be perjury to find a verdict for a man who gravely admits that the liberty of the Press is recognized by law, and that it is a venerable object, and yet calls for your verdict upon the ground that there is no such thing in existence as that which he has admitted, that the law recognizes, and that he himself venerates.

Clinging to the fond but faint hope that you are not capable of sanctioning, by your oaths, so monstrous an inconsistency, I lead you to the next sentence upon this record:

“Although his Grace does not appear to know what are the qualities necessary for a judge in Canada, or for an aide-de-camp in waiting at a court, he surely cannot be ignorant what are requisites for a Lord Lieutenant.”

This appears to be a very innocent sentence; yet the Attorney-General, the venerator of that protection of the people against a bad government--the liberty of the Press--tells you that it is a gross libel to impute so much ignorance to his Grace. As to the aide-de-camp, gentlemen, whether he be selected for the brilliancy of his spurs, the polish of his boots, or the precise angle of his cocked hat, are grave considerations which I refer to you. Decide upon these atrocities, I pray you. But as to the judge in Canada, it cannot be any reproach to his Grace to be ignorant of his qualifications. The old French law prevails in Canada, and there is not a lawyer at the Irish Bar, except, perhaps, the Attorney-General, who is sufficiently acquainted with that law to know how far any man may be fit for the station of judge in Canada.

If this be an ignorance without reproach in Irish lawyers, and if there be any reproach in it, I feel it not, whilst I avow that ignorance--yet, surely it is absurd to torture it into a calumny against the Lord Lieutenant--a military man, and no lawyer. I doubt whether it would be a libel if my client had said _that his Grace was ignorant of the qualities necessary for a judge_ in Ireland--for a _chief judge_, my lord. He has not said so, however, gentlemen, and true or false, that is not now the question under consideration. We are in Canada at present, gentlemen, in a ludicrous search for a libel in a sentence of no great point or meaning. If you are sapient enough to suspect that it contains a libel, your doubt can only arise from not comprehending it; and that, I own, is a doubt difficult to remove. But I mock you when I talk of this insignificant sentence.

I shall read the next paragraph at full length. It is connected with the Canadian sentence:--

“Therefore, were an appeal to be made to him in a dispassionate and sober moment, we might candidly confess that the Irish would not be disappointed in their hopes of a successor, though they would behold the same smiles, experience the same sincerity, and witness the same disposition towards conciliation.

“What though they were deceived in 1795, and found the mildness of a Fitzwilliam a false omen of concord; though they were duped in 1800, and found that the privileges of the Catholics did not follow the extinction of the parliament! Yet, at his departure, he will, no doubt, state good grounds for future expectation; that his administration was not the time for Emancipation, but that the season is fast approaching; that there were ‘existing circumstances,’ but that now the people may rely upon the virtues even of an hereditary Prince; that they should continue to worship the false idol; that their cries, must, at least, be heard; and that, if he has not complied, it is only because he has not spoken. In short, his Grace will in no way vary from the uniform conduct observed by most of his predecessors, first preaching to the confidence of the people, then playing upon their credulity.

“He came over ignorant--he soon became prejudiced, and then he became intemperate. He takes from the people their money; he eats of their bread, and drinks of their wine; in return, he gives them a bad government, and, at his departure, leaves them more distracted than ever. His Grace commenced his reign by flattery, he continued it in folly, he accompanied it with violence, and he will conclude it with falsehood.”

There is one part of this sentence for which I most respectfully solicit your indulgence and pardon. Be not exasperated with us for talking of the mildness of Lord Fitzwilliam, or of his administration. But, notwithstanding the violence any praise of him has excited amongst you, come dispassionately, I pray you, to the consideration of the paragraph. Let us abstract the meaning of it from the superfluous words. It certainly does tell you that his Grace came over ignorant of Irish affairs, and he acquired prejudices upon those subjects, and he has become intemperate. Let us discuss this part separately from the other matter suggested by the paragraph in question. That the Duke of Richmond came over to Ireland ignorant of the details of our domestic policy cannot be matter either of surprise or of any reproach. A military man engaged in those pursuits which otherwise occupy persons of his rank, altogether unconnected with Ireland, he could not have had any inducement to make himself acquainted with the details of our barbarous wrongs, of our senseless party quarrels, and criminal feuds; he was not stimulated to examine them by any interest, nor could any man be attracted to study them by taste. It is, therefore, no censure to talk of his ignorance--of that with which it would be absurd to expect that he should be acquainted; and the knowledge of which would neither have served, nor exalted, nor amused him.

Then, gentlemen, it is said he became “prejudiced.” Prejudiced may sound harsh in your ears; but you are not, at least you ought not, to decide upon _the sound_--it is _the sense_ of the word that should determine you. Now what is the sense of the word “prejudice” here? It means the having adopted precisely the opinions which every one of you entertain. By “prejudice” the writer means, and can mean, nothing but such sentiments as _you cherish_. When he talks of prejudice, he intends to convey the idea that the Duke took up the opinion that the few ought to govern the many in Ireland; that there ought to be a favored, and an excluded class in Ireland; that the burdens of the state ought to be shared equally, but its benefits conferred on a few. Such are the ideas conveyed by the word prejudice; and I fearlessly ask you, is it a crime to impute to his Grace these notions which _you_ yourselves entertain? Is he calumniated--is he libelled, when he is charged with concurring with you, gentlemen of the jury? Will you, by a verdict of conviction, stamp your own political sentiments with the seal of reprobation? If you convict my client, you do this; you decide that it is a libel to charge any man with those doctrines which are so useful to you individually, and of which you boast; or, you think the opinions just, and yet that it is criminal to charge a man with those just opinions. For the sake, therefore, of consistency, and as an approval of your own opinions, I call on you for a verdict of acquittal.

I need not detain you long on the expression “intemperate”; it does not mean any charge of excess of indulgence in any enjoyment; it is not, as the Attorney-General suggested, an accusation of indulging beyond due bounds in the pleasures of the table, or of the bottle; it does not allude, as the Attorney-General says, to midnight orgies, or to morning revels. I admit--I freely admit--that an allusion of that kind would savor of libel, as it would certainly be unnecessary for any purpose of political discussion. But the intemperance here spoken of is mere political intemperance; it is that violence which every man of a fervid disposition feels in support of his political opinions. Nay, the more pure and honest any man may be in the adoption of his opinions, the more likely, and the more justifiable will he be in that ardent support of them which goes by the name of intemperance.

In short, although political intemperance cannot be deemed by cold calculators as a virtue, yet it has its source in the purest virtues of the human heart, and it frequently produces the greatest advantages to the public. How would it be possible to overcome the many obstacles which self-interest, and ignorance, and passion throw in the way of improvement, without some of that ardor of temper and disposition which grave men call intemperance? And, gentlemen, are not your opinions as deserving of warm support as the opinions of other men; or do you feel any inherent depravity in the political sentiments which the Duke of Richmond has adopted from you, that would render him depraved or degraded by any violence in their support? You have no alternative. If you convict my client, you condemn, upon your oaths, your own political creed; and declare it to be a libel to charge any man with energy in your cause.

If you are not disposed to go this length of political inconsistency, and if you have determined to avoid the religious inconsistency of perjuring yourselves for the good and glory of the Protestant religion, do, I pray you, examine the rest of this paragraph, and see whether you can, by any ingenuity, detect that nondescript, a libel, in it. It states in substance this: that this administration, treading in the steps of former administrations, preached to the confidence of the people, and played on their credulity; and that it will end, as those administrations have done, in some flattering prophecy, paying present disappointment with the coinage of delusive hope. That this administration commenced, as usual, with preaching to the confidence of the people, was neither criminal in the fact, nor can it be unpleasant in the recital.

It is the immemorial usage of all administrations and of all stations, to commence with those civil professions of future excellence of conduct which are called, and not unaptly, “_preaching to the confidence of the people_.” The very actors are generally sincere at this stage of the political farce; and it is not insinuated that this administration was not as candid on this subject as the best of its predecessors. The _playing on the credulity of the people_ is the ordinary state trick. You recollect how angry many of you were with his Grace for his Munster tour, shortly after his arrival here. You recollect how he checked the Mayor of Cork for proposing the new favorite Orange toast; what liberality he displayed to Popish traders and bankers in Limerick; and how he returned to the capital, leaving behind him the impression that the no-Popery men had been mistaken in their choice, and that the Duke of Richmond was the enemy of every bigotry--the friend to every liberality! Was he sincere, gentlemen of the jury, or was this one of those innocent devices which are called--playing on the people’s credulity? Was he sincere? Ask his subsequent conduct. Have there been since that time any other or different toasts cheered in his presence? Has the name of Ireland and of Irishmen been profaned by becoming the sport of the warmth excited by the accompaniment to these toasts? Some individuals of you could inform me. I see another dignitary of your corporation here [said Mr. O’Connell, turning round pointedly to the Lord Mayor]--I see a civic dignitary here, who could tell of the toasts of these days or nights, and would not be at a loss to apply the right name--if he were not too prudent as well as too polite to do so--to that innocent affectation of liberality which distinguished his Grace’s visit to the south of Ireland. It was, indeed, a play upon our credulity, but it can be no libel to speak of it as such; for see the situation in which you would place his Grace; you know he affected conciliation and perfect neutrality between our parties at first; you know he has since taken a marked and decided part with you.

Surely you are not disposed to call this a crime, as it were, to convict his Grace of duplicity, and of a vile hypocrisy. No, gentlemen, I entreat of you not to calumniate the Duke; call this conduct a mere play on the credulity of a people easily deceived--innocent in its intention, and equally void of guilt in its description. Do not attach to those words a meaning which would prove that you yourselves condemned, not so much the writer of them, as the man who gave color and countenance to this assertion. Besides, gentlemen, what is your liberty of the Press worth, if it be worthy of a dungeon to assert that the public credulity has been played upon? The liberty of the Press would be less than a dream, a shadow, if every such phrase be a libel.

But the Attorney-General triumphantly tells you that there must be a libel in this paragraph, because it ends with a charge of falsehood. May I ask you to take the entire paragraph together? Common sense and your duty require you to do so. You will then perceive that this charge of falsehood is no more than an opinion that the administration of the Duke of Richmond will terminate precisely as that of many of his predecessors has done, by an excuse for the past--a flattering and fallacious promise for the future. Why, you must all of you have seen, a short time since, an account of a public dinner in London, given by persons styling themselves “Friends to Religious Liberty.” At that dinner, at which two of the Royal Dukes attended, there were, I think, no less than four or five noblemen who had filled the office of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Gentlemen, at this dinner, they were ardent in their professions of kindness towards the Catholics of Ireland, in their declarations of the obvious policy and justice of conciliation and concession, and they bore ample testimony to our sufferings and our merits. But I appeal from their present declarations to their past conduct; they are now full of liberality and justice to us; yet I speak only the truth of history when I say that, during their government of this country, no practical benefits resulted from all this wisdom and kindness of sentiment; with the single exception of Lord Fitzwilliam, not one of them even attempted to do any good to the Catholics, or to Ireland.

What did the Duke of Bedford do for us? _Just nothing._ Some civility, indeed, in words--some playing on public credulity--but in act and deed, nothing at all. What did Lord Hardwicke do for us? Oh, nothing, or rather less than nothing; his administration here was, in that respect, a kind of negative quality; it was cold, harsh, and forbidding to the Catholics; lenient, mild, and encouraging to the Orange faction; the public mind lay in the first torpor caused by the mighty fall of the Union, and whilst we lay entranced in the oblivious pool, Lord Hardwicke’s administration proceeded without a trace of that justice and liberality which it appears he must have thought unbefitting the season of his government, and which, if he then entertained, he certainly concealed; he ended, however, with giving us flattering hopes for the future. The Duke of Bedford was more explicit; he promised in direct terms, and drew upon the future exertions of an _hereditary Prince_, to compensate us for present disappointment. And will any man assert that the Duke of Richmond is libelled by a comparison with Lord Hardwicke; that he is traduced when he is compared with the Duke of Bedford? If the words actually were these, “the Duke of Richmond will terminate his administration exactly as Lord Hardwicke and the Duke of Bedford terminated their administrations”; if those were the words, none of you could possibly vote for a conviction, and yet the meaning is precisely the same. No more is expressed by the language of my client; and, if the meaning be thus clearly innocent, it would be strange, indeed, to call on you for a verdict of conviction upon no more solid ground than this, that whilst the signification was the same, the words were different. And thus, again, does the prosecutor require of you to separate the sense from the sound, and to convict for the sound, against the sense of the passage.

In plain truth, gentlemen, if there be a harshness in the sound, there is none in the words. The writer describes, and means to describe, the ordinary termination of every administration repaying in promise the defaults of performance. And, when he speaks of falsehood, he prophesies merely as to the probable or at least possible conclusion of the present government. He does not impute to any precedent assertion, falsehood; but he does predict, that the concluding promise of this, as of other administrations, depending as those promises always do upon other persons for performance, will remain as former promises have remained--unfulfilled and unperformed. And is this prophecy--this prediction a crime? Is it a libel to prophesy? See what topics this sage venerator of the liberty of the Press, the Attorney-General, would fain prohibit. First, he tells you that the crimes of the predecessors of the Duke must not be mentioned--and thus he forbids the history of past events. Secondly, he informs you that no allusion is to be made to the errors, follies, or even the striking features of the present governors--and thus he forbids the detail of the occurrences of the present day. And, thirdly, he declares that no conjecture shall be made upon what is likely to occur hereafter--and thus he forbids all attempts to anticipate future acts.