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.”