“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.