“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.