Thus, you see, by an Act of the Legislature of that country, passed by those who had all the knowledge of history before their eyes, and ample experience in their own times, I am fully supported in the position that prosecutions of this kind are not only useless but hurtful. By free argument and debate errors cease to be dangerous, if they are not exploded; but attempts to stifle even errors by power and punishment, provoke a stubborn adherence to them, and awake an eager spirit of propagation. If erroneous positions are published, meet them by argument, and refutation must ensue. If falsehood uses the press to promulge her doctrines, let truth oppose her with the same weapon. Let the press answer the press, and what is there to fear? Shall I be told that the propensity of human nature is so base and evil that it will listen to falsehood and turn a deaf ear to truth? To assert so is not only scandalous to human nature, but impious towards the Creator. We are placed here imperfect indeed, and erring; but still with preponderance of virtue over vice. The Deity has sent us from his hands with qualities fitting us for civil society: it is our natural state; and we know that civil society is sapped by vice and supported by virtue: if, therefore, our disposition to good did not redound over the evil a state of society could not be maintained. It would indeed be an impiety little short of blasphemy to the great Being who has created us, to say, that mankind at large are eagerly inclined to what is vicious, but turn with aversion from what is moral and good. Yet this, whatever they may avow, must be the opinion of those who say that good doctrine from the press cannot be left with safety to oppose bad.

Now, gentlemen, not only am I not without the corroboration of this enactment of the Legislature of Virginia for my humble opinions, but the Act of Virginia is itself not without the very highest human sanction, as I shall show you by a passage which I am about to cite from the work of a man, with whom, in my mind, the writings of all other men are but as the ill-timed uninformed prattlings of children—a man from whom to differ in opinion is but another phrase to be wrong. Need I, after this, name him? for was there ever more than one man who could be identified with such a description? I mean Locke, the great champion of civil freedom. In this work on government he says—

"Perhaps it will be said, that the people being ignorant and always discontented, to lay the foundations of government in the unsteady opinion and uncertain humour of the people, is to expose it to certain ruin, and no government will be able long to subsist if the people may set up a new legislature whenever they take offence at the old. To this I answer, quite the contrary, people are not so easy got out of their old forms as some are apt to suggest; they are hardly to be prevailed with to amend the acknowledged faults in the frame they have been accustomed to, and if there be any original defects or adventitious ones introduced by time or corruption, it is not an easy thing to be changed, even where all the world sees there is an opportunity for it. This slowness and aversion in the people to quit their old constitutions has in the many revolutions which have been seen in this kingdom still kept us to, or, after some intervals of fruitless attempts, still brought us back again to our old legislature of King, Lords and Commons."

Such is the opinion of this greatest of men, formed on the most consummate wisdom, enriched by observation, during times which afforded no small degree of experience. Upon his authority, then, that men are not to be excited to sudden discontent, and passion for hasty change, I assert, that there is no danger to be apprehended from the freest political discussions; and consequently no need of their condemnation by a jury's verdict of Guilty.

Milton, too, the greatest of poets, and hardly less a politician, was of the same sentiment as to the firmness of the people, and thought it might safely be left to them to read what they pleased, and to their reason and discretion, what to object and what to adopt, without any other interference. It is his Areopagitica, in which he contends for unlicensed printing—an oration addressed from his closet to the Parliament of England, and which has been cited by Lord Mansfield himself, on the bench. His words are—"Nor is it to the common people less than a reproach; for if we be so jealous of them that we cannot trust them with an English pamphlet, what do we but censure them for a giddy, vicious and ungrounded people? That this is care or love of them we cannot pretend."

Such are the sentiments of Milton, in that noble effort of united argument and eloquence, which I should not fear to hold up against the most splendid orations of antiquity.

Having thus, I submit, made good my position, that political papers, whatever their description, can produce no mischief, and that there is no need to prosecute them; I will now show you, that not only can publications, containing false opinions, do no mischief, but that they actually produce benefit, and that therefore not they, but the prosecutions, which would check, and stifle them are injurious. Is it meant to be contended that error is stronger than truth; folly more powerful than reason, and irreligion than religion? No man, in his senses, will maintain such propositions. On the contrary, error has always been dispersed before reason, and infidelity by religion. The appearance of error and falsehood has always roused Truth to rise to the work of refutation. Even the sublime truths of religion have never been so completely demonstrated, and conviction and faith have never been so firmly fixed in the minds of men as by those books of controversy which have been drawn forth by attacks upon Christianity; and which, but for the publications denying the authenticity of the religion, would never have been in existence; but, invaluable as they are, the world must have wanted them. As to political writings, is it not notorious, that the very best expositions of the nature of civil society and government, are solely to be ascribed to the conflicts of reason with the false and loathsome doctrines of passive obedience and divine indefeasible right, which found their way into the world by the freedom of publication? Even that great work, the treatise of Locke on Government, itself, which is justly regarded as the political Bible (I mean no irreverence) of Englishmen, would never have seen the light, but that it was written to refute the base and detestable tenets of Barclay and Filmer. Their political treatises were false and slavish, and even illegal; for they were the same for which Dr. Sacheverel was afterwards impeached by the Parliament; and which he would not have been if it had not been an offence to maintain and publish such opinions. Yet were not their falsehoods and errors useful and beneficial? Did they not provoke Locke to rise in all the majesty and strength of truth and cast down Filmer and his doctrines into the lowest abyss of contempt, never again to emerge? See, now, if the government of those days had prosecuted Barclay and Filmer, and suppressed their books by power instead of leaving them to be demolished by reasoning, what would have been the consequence? The mighty mind of Locke would not have been called into action, and the total refutation and utter explosion of Filmer would not have been effected. By criminal prosecutions the odious positions would only have been suppressed for a time, not as they now are, extinguished for ever; and the base and degrading doctrines of passive obedience and divine right, which are the stigma of the times in which they prevailed, might have been the disgrace and reproach of ours.

But supposing that prosecutions for political writings were in any respect politic, useful, or wise, will they prevent their publication? No more than your strong and violent revenue laws have been able to suppress the rise of illicit stills in Ireland and Scotland. Even if by dint of the terror of prosecutions the press in this city could be reduced to such awe and subjection, that everything that issued from it was as flat and unmeaning as the most arbitrary government could desire, its inhabitants would still gratify their thirst for political discussion and information. They would compose and print as they distil, in the depth of deserts and the solitude of mountains, and under the cover of darkness drop the pamphlets into the houses, or scatter them in the streets, and the obstacles to circulation will serve only to inflame the desire for possession. This would be the result of a determination to suppress everything in the shape of political discussion that did not please the humour of a set of men in authority, while by far the greater part if not all those publications which inspire so much apprehension, would if passed in silence either never be noticed, or read their hour and forgotten. It is these public trials that give them importance and notoriety. They would not draw an eye but for the glare thrown on them by these luminous prosecutions. These indictments (though I would not willingly be ludicrous on so serious an occasion) force into my mind the course once adopted with regard to houses of ill-fame, by the Society for the Suppression of Vice. They paid men who were fixed before the doors of such houses with huge paper lanterns, on which there was painted in large illuminated letters, "This is a house of bad fame." But, instead of causing a desertion of the houses, they operated as an advertisement and an allurement, and increased the numbers who resorted to them. Those who had before frequented them did not discontinue their visits, and those who were ignorant of such places and seeking them, on seeing the emblazonment by the doors, cried out—that is just what we wanted, and turned in. The society at last discovered their mistake. They found that they were encouraging what they wished to abolish, and discontinued the plan. My learned friend, who is counsel for the society, can confirm me when I assert that they do not now carry it into practice. Precisely the operation that these lanterns had with regard to houses of ill-fame, have these trials upon obnoxious writings. They are illuminated by the rays which are shed on them by these proceedings. They attract every eye, and are read in the light (as it were) of the notoriety which is thus thrown upon them by these prosecutions.

Gentlemen, it just occurs to my recollection, that I have omitted in its proper place something which I ought to have mentioned, and urged to you, and I beg your indulgence to supply the omission. You will remember that in one of the passages charged as libelous, the words "I will not, now, say a word about insurrection" are to be found, and my learned friend, Mr. Gurney, suggested to you that it was an excitement, at some future period, to insurrection. I, gentlemen, repeat that these words are not only no excitement to insurrection, but an express disavowal of it. If you infer that he means insurrection at any future time, you must also suppose that the insurrection he contemplates is conditional, and in speculation of conduct in the government that may justify it. Is there any extrinsic evidence to show that he means something beyond the words? None—and the words themselves are a literal disclaimer of any intention of insurrection. And it is by the words then that you will judge of his design, and not take it from the vague and partial declamation of the counsel for the prosecution, whose opinions ought no more than my own, to have any weight with you, except as they are supported by reason. If you can find any such meaning as an intention to excite insurrection in the words, so much the worse for the defendant; but, if you cannot, and I am sure you cannot, then you will not hesitate to adjudge the words innocent. What! may not I, or any man, say there is no occasion for insurrection at this moment, but there may be at a future time? Good God! are there no possible situations in which resistance to a government will be justifiable? There have been such situations, and may again. Surely there may be. Why, even the most vehement strugglers for indefeasible right and passive obedience have been forced (after involving themselves in the most foolish inconsistencies, and after the most ludicrous shuffling in attempting to deny it) to admit, that there may be such a conjuncture. They have tried to qualify the admission indeed—admitted, and then retracted—then admitted again, and then denied in the term, what they admitted in the phrase, till, as you shall see, nothing ever equalled the absurdity, and ridiculousness of the rigmarole into which they fell, in their unwillingness to confess, what they were unable to deny. Yes, gentlemen, there are situations in which insurrection against a government is not only legal, but a duty and a virtue. The period of our glorious revolution was such a situation. When the bigot, James, attempted to force an odious superstition on the people for their religion, and to violate the fundamental laws of the realm, Englishmen owed it to themselves, they owed it to millions of their fellow-creatures, not only in this country, but all over the world; they owed it to God who had made them man to rise against such a government; and cast ruin on the tyrant for the oppression and slavery which he meditated for them. Locke, in the work from which I have already cited to you, in the chapter entitled, "On Dissolution of Government," contends with Barclay, an advocate for divine right and passive obedience, and refutes him on this very question, and proves that subjects may use force against tyranny in governments. He cites Barclay who wrote in Latin, but I read to you from the translation.

"Wherefore if the king shall be guilty of immense and intolerable cruelty not only against individuals but against the body of the state, that it is the whole people, or any large part of the people, in such a case indeed it is competent to the people to resist and defend themselves from injury, but only to defend themselves, not to attack the prince, and only to repair the injury they have received; not to depart, on account of the injury received from the reverence which they owe him. When the tyranny is intolerable (for we ought always to submit to a tyranny in a moderate degree) the subject may resist with reverence."

In commenting on this passage, Mr. Locke, mixes with his reasonings the ridicule it deserves:—"'He (that is Barclay) says, it must be with reverence.' How to resist force without striking again, or how to strike with reverence, will need some skill to make intelligible. He that shall oppose an assault only with a shield to receive the blow, or in any more respectful posture without a sword in his hand, to abate the confidence and force of the assailant will quickly be at the end of his resistance, and will find such a defence serve only to draw on him the worse usage: this is as ridiculous a way of resisting, as Juvenal thought of fighting, 'Ubi tu pulsas, ego vapulo tantum,' and the result of the combat will be unavoidably the same as he there describes it.

Libertas paupcris haec est. Pulsatus rogat, et pugnis concisus adorat, Ut liceat paucis cum dentibus inde reverti.

"'This is the liberty of the slave: when beaten and bruised with blows, he requests and implores as a favour to be allowed to depart with some few of his teeth.' This will always be the event of such an imaginary resistance, when men may not strike again. He, therefore, who may resist must be allowed to strike. And then let our author, or anybody else, join a knock on the head, or a cut on the face, with as much reverence and respect as he thinks fit. He that can reconcile blows and reverence may, for aught I know, deserve for his pains, a civil respectful cudgeling whenever he can meet with it."

So much, gentlemen, for the doctrine of non-resistance. Therefore the author of this paper in stating that there may be times when insurrection may be called for, has done no more than a hundred other writers, and among them Locke, have done before him.

Locke proceeding still with the discussion of the question, whether oppressive governments may be opposed by the people, and, having concluded in the affirmative, says, "But here the question may be made, who shall be judge whether the prince or legislature act contrary to their trust. This, perhaps, ill affected and factious men may spread among the people, when the prince only makes use of his just prerogative. To this, I reply, the people shall be judge; for who shall be judge whether the trustee or deputy acts with and according to the trust that is reposed in him, but he who deputes him, and must, by having deputed him, have still a power to discard him when he fails in his trust. If this be reasonable in particular cases of private men, why should it be otherwise in that of the greatest moment when the welfare of millions is concerned, and also when the evil if not prevented is greater, and the redress very dear, difficult, and dangerous."

Locke, therefore, most unambiguously concludes that insurrection may be justified and necessary. A greater and more important truth does not exist, and we owe its promulgation with such freedom and boldness to that most extraordinary and felicitous conjuncture at the revolution which called upon us to support a king against a king, and obliged us to explode (as has been done most completely) the divine right and passive obedience under which one king claimed, to maintain the legal title of the other.

Locke goes on further to say—

"This question, who shall be supreme judge? cannot mean that there is no judge at all. For where there is no judicature on earth to decide controversies among men, God in heaven is judge. But every man is to judge for himself, as in all other cases, so in this, whether another hath put himself in a state of war with him, and whether, as Jeptha did, he should appeal to the Supreme Judge."

I beg that I may not be misinterpreted, I hope it will not be said I mean to insinuate that any circumstances at present exist to justify insurrection. I protest against any such inference. Nothing can be further from my thoughts, and I regret that such an extravagant mode of construing men's words should be in fashion, as to render such a caution on my part needful. All I say is, that the writer of this paper spoke of insurrection conditionally, and prospectively only, and, in doing so, has done no more than Locke, in other terms had done before him.

Gentlemen, I have but a very few more arguments to address to you, and I am glad of it, for I assure you, you cannot be more exhausted in patience than I am in strength.

I now, gentlemen, ask you even admitting that the style and manner, in which the opinions of the writer of this address are expressed, should verge upon intemperance and impropriety, would you venture, merely upon the ground of such a defect in style, to say the defendant is guilty; when the very same opinions in substance, expressed in a different style, would be innocent and legal, and unquestionable? Gentlemen, I have heard it asserted, with a surprise that I cannot express, that if persons will write in a moderate, delicate, temperate, and refined style they may discuss questions which become exceptionable and forbidden if they are handled in a coarse and illiberal style. Now I should have thought, that the very reverse of this would have been the case; for by a refined and guarded style you may insinuate and persuade—by vulgar coarseness and intemperance you disgust and nauseate. To say that a political paper of the very same sentiments, and principles would be innocent, written in a calm and delicate style which would be criminal, written in an abrupt, vehement and passionate manner, is to remove guilt from the thought and conception and substance of a writing, and impute it to the medium only of the thought, the mere expression. So that upon such a rule and principle of decision, if I were to heap violent and gross abuse even on Abershaw, or any other highwayman, who was deservedly hanged a hundred years ago, I might actually be indicted for a libel. Such a course, gentlemen, would be to degrade your judgments from a decision upon the thought, and opinions (which, are alone important) of an author to a criticism and condemnation of his words, and would be waging war with the vocabulary and the dictionary, a degradation, to which I trust, your reason will never submit. A difference of style in political writings is much too refined and subtle to found a distinction upon between innocence and crime. Difference of style is so minute, and is a subject of such nice discrimination, that it would not only be difficult, but almost impossible, and most unsafe for any jury to attempt by it to draw a line between guilt and innocence; besides, what would be the effect upon the press? If I were told, when I sat down to write upon any topic, that I must treat it in a given style, and no other, or risk prosecution, I should be confounded, and throw down my pen without writing at all. At least I should either not write at all, or write in such a manner that I might as well not have written at all, for I should most certainly never be read. Good God! to leave a man the alternative of a particular style, or an indictment for a libel, when he sat down to compose, would be like placing a torpedo on his hand; for you cannot, as was most forcibly, and beautifully said by Lord Erskine, "expect men to communicate their free thoughts to one another under the terror of a lash hanging over their heads;" and again, on another occasion, "under such circumstances, no man could sit down to write a pamphlet, without an attorney at one elbow, and a counsel at the other." Gentlemen, if you, sitting coolly and dispassionately to give a deliberate judgment upon the manner and style of an author's composition would find it difficult to form a certain judgment, how great, how insuperable, must be the difficulty of the writer himself. How is he when he sits down intent on his subject and when vehement and ardent (as he must be, if he is in earnest, and that he may persuade others of that, which he feels himself) and his ideas are thronging and pressing upon him for expression—how is he to be select and cautious and measured in his words? Would you not by subjecting the freedom of political discussion to such a restriction run the hazard of destroying it altogether? Upon this question of the difficulty of distinguishing between propriety and impropriety in the style of writings I can not abstain from reading to you a passage from a speech of Lord Chesterfield, which was quoted by Lord Erskine, when he was at the bar, upon a trial for libel. On that occasion, indeed, Lord Kenyon told him, that he believed it flowed from the pen of Dr. Johnson, and that Lord Erskine took as a valuable concession; for from the frame of mind and bias of that learned man on political subjects, he was certainly not a friend to popular liberty, while Lord Chesterfield, I believe, acted without deviation upon Whig principles, and was a constant advocate for the freedom of the press. From Dr. Johnson, however, it was most important, as it had the effect of an unwilling admission, and if Lord Kenyon was correct in attributing the speech to Dr. Johnson, its excellence is to be inferred from the fact, that Lord Chesterfield never discountenanced the opinion that he was its author. The passage is this:—

"One of the greatest blessings we enjoy, one of the greatest blessings a people, my Lords, can enjoy, is liberty; but every good in this life has its alloy of evil; licentiousness is the alloy of liberty; it is an ebullition, an excrescence—it is a speck upon the eye of the political body: but which I can never touch but with a gentle, with a trembling hand, lest I destroy the body, lest I injure the eye upon which it is apt to appear.

"There is such a connection between licentiousness and liberty, that it is not easy to correct the one, without dangerously wounding the other: it is extremely hard to distinguish the true limit between them: like a changeable silk, we can easily see there are two different colours, but we cannot easily discover where the one ends, or where the other begins."

Mr. GURNEY.—You should state, in fairness and candour, that that was an argument against licensing.

Mr. COOPER.—I know it was. The argument contends for the difficulty, next to impossibility, of distinguishing where that which is allowable ends, and that which is licentious begins. A licenser could not tell where to allow, and where to object, yet a licenser, gentlemen, would have had just the same means of judging that you possess; and if he could not tell with distinctness and certainty what to let pass and what to stop, how, with no greater power, and means of judgment, can you? With what justice, then, can it be objected to me, that I have shown any want of candour in not stating the precise question on which the argument was delivered, when in the principle there is not a shadow of difference? My application of the passage is therefore perfectly just.

Gentlemen, I have only one more quotation to trouble you with before I conclude. That is the opinion of Lord Loughborough, afterwards Chancellor of England. I do not know in what case, or on what occasion it was delivered, but I believe in a judgment on a case of libel. "Every man (says that judge) may publish at his discretion, his opinions concerning forms and systems of government. If they be weak and absurd, they will be laughed at and forgotten; and, if they be bona fide, they cannot be criminal, however erroneous."

This is the opinion of a great judge upon political publications, sitting under the authority of the king himself to administer the laws; and to apply this authority to the paper before you, what reason on earth have you to suppose, that the writer from the beginning to the end was not bona fide in his opinions; and then, however erroneous they may be, I say, under the sanction of Lord Loughborough himself, they are not criminal.

Having, gentlemen, submitted these observations to you, I declare most unfeignedly that I have uttered them with the most conscientious belief, that they are founded in reason, justice, and truth. I have not advanced a proposition nor uttered a sentiment as an advocate, which I am not prepared to avow and maintain as a man. If I am wrong in my judgment, you will correct me. You will, however, consider my reasonings, and the passages which I have cited to you in support of them, and judge if I have not maintained the propositions, which I have submitted to you.

No argument can be drawn from any of the observations, which I have addressed to you for impunity to libelers and defamers of private character. No, they are justly called assassins; for they who destroy that without which life is worthless are as guilty as those who destroy life itself, and let them feel the heaviest vengeance of the law. Private persons may be attacked and have no power to defend themselves. They may not only be unable themselves to answer published calumnies against their character; but also unable to employ those who can. But such can never be the case with those who administer the affairs of the nation. All the wealth and power of the country is in their hands. They may hire a thousand writers to support their measures, and vindicate their characters, and they will not want volunteers; they can command the press; and, for their protection, it is sufficient, that the press should be opposed to the press. Private individuals cannot command the press; and, therefore, let slanderers of private character suffer the utmost punishment that the law can inflict.

And now, gentlemen, I ask you to give me your verdict for the defendant. I make no attempt to move your compassion. I will not urge you to consider that the defendant is a woman, and unable, from the tenderness of her sex, to sustain hardship; nor call upon you to remember, that which you cannot but know, that she has already been convicted upon one prosecution, for which she will, without doubt, be the subject of severe punishment. I ask it on the higher ground of justice; though, I confess, that I hope and wish it with more anxiety, because I trust it will send these embodied prosecutors, this Constitutional Association, as (by the figure, I suppose, of lucus a non lucendo) they entitle themselves, into that obscurity to which they properly belong, or at least if they will obtrude further upon the impatience of the public, let them carry with them the ill omen of a failure in their first attempt to insinuate, either that the English Constitution is deficient in its establishment of responsible law officers of the crown, or that those officers are incapable of fulfilling the duties of their station. It is said, and I hope truly, that the country is gradually recovering from the distress, under which it has so long suffered, and that plenty and prosperity have again begun to flow in upon us. May it be so! but we shall never derive enjoyment from any improvement in our physical condition; unless it is accompanied with domestic tranquillity. To be happy we must be at peace amongst ourselves; and nothing will have the effect of allaying the heart- burnings of political animosity and uniting us, as it were, in bands of harmonious brotherhood, so much as a discouragement of these party prosecutions, which, while they kindle feelings of indignation, and hostility, and hatred in large numbers of the people, are of no general benefit to the state. Fling back this prosecution, then, in the faces of those who have instituted it; and, instead of sending this unfortunate woman to a prison, send her back by your verdict of acquittal to the children of her brother, who, deprived (in the manner you know) both of their father and mother, are as much orphans as they would be by their death; and who, sordid and neglected in her absence, are requiring her care. And, what is more, you will, by your verdict of Not Guilty, give security to the free expression of public opinion, compose our dissensions, and protect both yourselves and posterity; since in calling on you to acquit the defendant, I call on you to protect the freedom of the press, and with it the freedom of the country; for unless the press is preserved, and preserved inviolate, the political liberties of Englishmen are lost.

Mr. Justice BEST.—It was his duty to call back the attention of the jury to the question which they were to try. A number of observations had been made relative to what had taken place in Virginia, but which had nothing to do with the verdict which they were to give. One observation had been made, in the propriety of which he perfectly agreed, which was that they would dismiss from their minds all prejudices. The learned counsel for the defendant seemed to think that the name of Carlile was sufficient to create prejudices. If that were the case, he hoped the jury would forget that the present defendant was of that name. They had nothing now to do but to exercise their judgment upon the facts before them. The jury were told, and truly told, that they were the judges as to whether this was a libel or not. The statute gave the jury the power of finding a general verdict; but they still were bound under the sanction of their oaths to find it according to law. He should give his opinion, and the jury were at liberty to differ with him; but he must beg in the most distinct terms to state that the jury or the court had nothing to do with the propriety or impropriety of these prosecutions, or with the association by which the prosecution had been instituted. For his own part he did not know by whom it had been instituted until he had been requested by the defendant to ask the jurors as they went into the box, whether or not they were members of that association. The two questions to be decided were, first, Was this pamphlet a libel? and secondly, Was the defendant the publisher? They must lay out of their consideration acts of parliament passed in Virginia. The principles laid down in the preamble of the act alluded to, might be a good principle for America, but he was bound to tell them that it was not law in England. In the book quoted from by the learned gentlemen, it was said "how wretched must be the state of society in a country where the laws were uncertain;" and that must be the case where the jury take into consideration the propriety or impropriety of laws. In his opinion this publication was libelous, and if the jury were not satisfied of the contrary, the safer course would be for the jury to agree in opinion with one who must be presumed to be acquainted with the law, and who gives that opinion upon his oath. No man could be a more ardent admirer than he of the press, to the freedom of which Europe was principally indebted for its happiness; and God forbid that he should do anything which would for a moment extinguish that liberty! The learned counsel for the defendant had said, that the libel upon a private individual was a species of moral assassination. It was odd that an individual could not be libeled with impunity, and yet that society might be set by the ears. The government were equally protected with all others against the malevolence and virulence of the press. He would again repeat, but he would say nothing as to what the law ought to be, but he stated what it was. What he conceived to be the true liberty of the press was this, that any man might, without permission, publish what he please, if he were responsible for what he might publish. It might be asked, then is a man answerable for every expression? To that he would answer, no; if a man's intention were to convince the people that the government was not acting right, he had a right to publish his opinions; and if some sparks should fly out beyond decorum when the real apparent object was to instruct, the expressions ought not to be visited with punishment. But men must not go farther than instruct: they must not say that the system of government is a system of tyranny; which meant nothing more than that the people ought to pull down such systems. The learned counsel had alluded to Athens and Rome, but it was well known that those States punished offences of this description with greater severity than the laws of England inflicted. Every man had a right to point out with firmness, but with respect, the errors of government. Every man has a right to appeal to the understanding, but not to the passions; and the man who wished to do so need not be afraid to write. The distinction between fair discussion and libel was this, that one was an appeal to the passions, and the other to the understanding. If the jury were of opinion that this pamphlet was an address to the people of the country, to induce them by legal and constitutional means to procure a redress of grievances, then they would acquit the defendant; but, if on the other hand, they should be of opinion that the intention was to appeal to prejudices and passions (as he thought) it was their bounden duty, whatever they might think of the propriety or impropriety of the prosecution, to return a verdict of guilty. He next felt it his duty to remark upon the passages in the record, and if the learned gentleman had gone through the pamphlet, he would have found in the next page, in which the writer said, that the making and administration of laws was corrupt, a sufficient explanation of what was intended by the sentence, "to talk of the British Constitution, &c." There was in the country a constitution not like the Spanish Constitution, created in a day; but matured by the sense of ages, altering and adapting it to times and circumstances until it became what was a practical and not theoretical system of liberty. The learned counsel had made some observations upon what had fallen from Lord Colchester in the House of Commons; such observations he thought irregular, but he permitted them sooner than it should be said that the defendant, to use a familiar expression, had not "fair play." He did not want the authority of Lord Colchester with respect to these corruptions, because he had evidence of it in a case in which he tried twenty-four persons for such practices. But was it the meaning of the passage, that there was corruption in the House of Commons? No, the expression was that the laws (which were corrupt enough to bring to punishment persons guilty of those practices) were corrupt. Was this true? If there were anything for which this country was more distinguished than another it was the equity of the laws, and it was for this that the laws of England were extolled by all foreigners. The writer could not mean the borough of Grampound, or any other borough, when he said that corruption was the oil of the system. When the writer said he did not "at that moment speak of insurrection," what was his meaning? Why that insurrection would not do then, but at some future time they might, when satisfied of their strength, take advantage of all circumstances. As far as he understood the nature of the Manchester and Stockport Rooms they were for instruction, and if the writer did not go farther, then indeed would the pamphlet be harmless. "Delay some time." "Have such meetings as those at Manchester and Stockport; be assured of your numbers, and you can overpower the Government." There could be no doubt that these passages were libelous. The next question was, whether the defendant had or had not published the libel? and it was in evidence that these copies were purchased at two different times. The jury were not to take into consideration the former conviction; and he could assure the jury that no greater severity would be used than was sufficient to restrain this licentiousness, which, if not restrained, would overturn this or any other Government. The revolution recommended by this pamphlet would not be an ordinary change of masters, but a transfer of property.

At about four o'clock the jury retired; and, having returned at quarter before five,

Mr. Justice BEST said, he had received a communication that they were not likely to agree; and as they must agree at some time or other, he sent for them in order to give them any information in his power upon such points as they disagreed upon.

A Juror.—The Foreman was rather precipitate in writing to your Lordship; we have not wasted much time, and we are discussing it among ourselves.

Mr. Justice BEST.—I am not in a hurry.

The Foreman said, there were four of the jurors obstinate, and he would wish his Lordship to draw a juror.

Mr. Justice BEST.—I have not the power to do so.

A Juror.—I throw back the charge of obstinacy in the teeth of the Foreman—he is obstinate.

Another Juryman.—My Lord there is obstinacy.

Second Juryman.—This is invidious; I am not the only one who stands out; there are four of us.

The Foreman again expressed his opinion that they should not agree.

Mr. Justice BEST.—Gentlemen, you must see the impropriety of this public discussion; you had better retire, and endeavour to agree among yourselves.

The jury again retired, and at eight o'clock desired their families might be informed that it was not likely they would return home before the morning.

Wednesday, July 25th.

This morning the jury were still enclosed without the least chance of any agreement. A number of persons were in waiting to hear the verdict. At half-past nine o'clock, Mr. Justice HOLROYD appeared on the bench, and an intimation was conveyed to his Lordship that there was no probability that the jury would agree.

A conference took place between the counsel for the prosecution and defence who appeared to be both willing to enter a Noli Prosequi and discharge the jury without a verdict.

A gentleman in black (said to be Mr. Longueville Clarke, one of the Committee of the Constitutional Association, and one of the State Locusts) suddenly started up, and declared that he would not consent to such a course.

Mr. COOPER (to the man in black).—Are you the attorney for the prosecution, sir?

Mr. LONGUEVILLE CLARKE.—No: I am a member of the Constitutional Committee; and I will have a verdict.

Mr. COOPER.—However potent, sir, your word might be in the committee- room, it has no power in this Court.

Mr. GURNEY, as counsel for the prosecution, in the absence of Mr. MURRAY, the attorney, would take upon himself the responsibility of consenting to discharge the jury.

Mr. COOPER, thinking it cruelty to confine the jury any longer would yield also to a consent for their discharge.

The jury were then sent for, and in their passage to the Court were loudly and rapturously cheered by the bystanders. Having answered to their names,

Mr. Justice HOLROYD addressed them.—Gentlemen of the jury, I am glad that it is in my power to relieve you from your present unpleasant situation. The learned counsel on both sides have consented to discharge you without your returning a verdict.

The jury then left the Court, and were again loudly cheered in their passage through the Hall.

Thus ended the first attempt of the Constitutional Association, or the Bridge-street Banditti, to get a verdict; particularly important to the country—particularly honourable to the counsel for the defendant, and the honest Jurors who made so noble a stand for the Liberty of the Press—and particularly disgraceful to all parties connected with the prosecution.

LONDON: W. & H. S. WARR, Printers, 3, Red Lion Passage, & 63, High Holborn.

THE END