Prisoner for Blasphemy

by G. W. Foote

My peroration is the only other part of the defence which I shall extract.

"Gentlemen, I have more than a personal interest in the result
of this trial. I am anxious for the rights and liberties of
thousands of my countrymen. Young as I am, I have for many
years fought for my principles, taken soldier's wages when
there were any, and gone cheerfully without when there were
none, and fought on all the same, as I mean to do to the end;
and I am doomed to the torture of twelve months' imprisonment
by the verdict and judgment of thirteen men, whose sacrifices
for conviction may not equal mine. The bitterness of my fate
can scarcely be enhanced by your verdict. Yet this does not
diminish my solicitude as to its character. If, after the recent
scandalous proceedings in another court, you, as a special jury
in this High Court of Justice, bring in a verdict of Guilty
against me and my co-defendant, you will decisively inaugurate
a new era of persecution, in which no advantage can accrue to
truth or morality, but in which fierce passions will be kindled,
oppression and resistance matched against each other, and the
land perhaps disgraced with violence and stained with blood.
But if, as I hope, you return a verdict of Not Guilty, you
will check that spirit of bigotry and fanaticism which is
fully aroused and eagerly awaiting the signal to begin its
evil work; you will close a melancholy and discreditable
chapter of history; you will proclaim that henceforth the
press shall be absolutely free, unless it libel men's characters
or contain incitements to crime, and that all offences against
belief and taste shall be left to the great jury of public
opinion; you will earn the gratitude of all who value liberty
as the jewel of their souls, and independence as the crown
of their manhood; you will save your country from becoming
ridiculous in the eyes of nations that we are accustomed to
consider as less enlightened and free; and you will earn for
yourselves a proud place in the annals of its freedom, its
progress, and its glory."

I delivered this appeal to the jury as impressively as I could. There was a solemn silence in court. A storm cloud gathered while I spoke, and heavy drops of rain fell on the roof as I concluded.

Lord Coleridge lifted his elbow from his desk, and addressed the jury:

"Gentlemen, I should have been glad to have summed up this
evening, but the truth is, I am not very strong, and I propose
to address you in the morning, and that will give you a full
opportunity of reflecting calmly on the very striking and able
speech you have just heard."

My defence was a great effort, and it exhausted me. Until I had to exert myself I did not know how the confinement and the prison fare had weakened me. The reader will understand the position better if I remind him that the only material preparation I had in the morning for the task of defending myself against Sir Hardinge Giffard and Mr. Maloney was six ounces of dry bread and a little thin cocoa, which the doctor had ordered instead of the "skilly" to stop my diarrhoea. The Governor kindly allowed one of my friends to fetch me a little brandy. Then we drove back to prison, where I had some more dry bread and thin cocoa. The next morning, after an exactly similar meal, we drove down again to the court.

Lord Coleridge's summing-up lasted nearly two hours, and, like my defence, it was listened to by a crowded court, which included a large number of gentlemen of the wig and gown. His lordship's address is reported at length in the "Three Trials for Blasphemy," and a revised copy was published by himself. His view of the law has been dealt with already in my Preface. What I wish to say here is, that Lord Coleridge's demeanor was in marked contrast with Judge North's. I cannot do better than quote a few passages from an open letter I addressed to his lordship soon after my release:

"How were my feelings modified by your lordship's lofty
bearing! I found myself in the presence of a judge who was
a gentleman. You treated me with impartiality, and a generous
consideration for my misfortunes. No one could doubt your
sincerity when, in the midst of a legal illustration which might
be construed as a reflection on my character, you suddenly
checked yourself, and said, 'I mean no offence to Mr. Foote.
I should be unworthy of my position if I insulted anyone in his.'
You were scrupulously, almost painfully, careful to say nothing
that could assist the prosecution or wound my susceptibilities.
You appeared to tremble lest your own convictions should
prejudice you, and the jury through you, against me and my
fellow prisoner. You listened with the deepest attention to
my long address to the jury. You discussed all my arguments
that you considered essential in your summing-up; and you
strengthened some of them, while deprecating others, with a
logical force and beauty of expression which were at once my
admiration and my despair. You paid me such handsome compliments
on my defence in the most trying circumstances as dispelled at
once the orthodox theory that I was a mere vulgar criminal.
In brief, my lord, you displayed such a lofty spirit of justice,
such a tenderness of humanity, and such a dignity of bearing,
that you commanded my admiration, my reverence and my love;
and if the jury had convicted me, and your lordship had felt
obliged by the 'unpleasant law' to inflict upon me some measure of
punishment, I could still have kissed the hand that dealt the blow.
"I know how repulsive flattery must be to a nature like yours,
but your lordship will pardon one who is no sycophant, who
seeks neither to avert your frown nor to gain your favor, who
has no sinister object in view, but simply speaks from the
fulness of a grateful heart. And you will pardon me if I say
that my sentiments are shared by thousands, who hate your creed
but respect your character. They watched you throughout my
trial with the keenest interest, and they rejoiced when they
saw in you those noble human qualities which transcend all
dogmas and creeds, and dwarf all differences of opinion into
absolute insignificance."

Lord Coleridge also deserves my thanks for the handsome manner in which he seconded my efforts to repudiate the odious charge of "indecency," which had been manufactured by the bigots after my imprisonment. These are his lordship's words:

"Mr. Foote is anxious to have it impressed on your minds that
he is not a licentious writer, and that this word does not fairly
apply to his publications. You will have the documents before
you, and you must judge for yourselves. I should say that he
is right. He may be blasphemous, but he certainly is not licentious,
in the ordinary sense of the word; and you do not find him
pandering to the bad passions of mankind."