They listen not to her complaints: what America was, Ireland, perhaps England itself, will shortly be, if you obstinately refuse to adopt that system of conciliation which alcae can bring back affection and obedience to any government which has lost it.

I can have no interest, si, painting my country in such dismal colors-I can have ao desire to see the land I live in and in which I inher so many comforts and advantages, involved in confusic. and blood. My only wish is to see a happy, powerful, disinterested union, which may save from destruction the Constitution of our fathers. But whatever is to be done, urst be done quickly. If discontent arises, and what is now petitioned for is brought forward as an imperious demand you are disrobed of all choice and deliberation. Think of this awful conjuncture, whilst thinking is of any use. For my own part, I solemnly declare that I think there is no alternative between an immediate reform by which the nation may be made happy, and a revolution by which it will be involved in blood and ruin. I may be told that bad men may avail themselves of a moderate reform to compass the utter overthrow of the Constitution. But if there really be those whom no concession can satisfy, yet by the very attempt you will add to the number of those who will feel new attachment to the Constitution, and new ardor in its defence.. You will separate thosc who are sincerely attached to the genuine principles of the Constitution, from those who may secretly wish to destroy it. You will unmask those whose views go beyond reform: you will deprive them of that pretence which gives effect to their animosity; and you will furnish the government with new strength to resist their machinations. Let ministers instantly forego that fatal system of coercion which forced America from her connexion with us into the arms of France, and which is, at this very moment, driving Ireland to seek the same protection. Let them relinquish the insane attempt to retain the affection of that country by the point of the bayonet, which is hourly tearing out of the hearts of Irishmen those feelings of kindness and love for England upon which the permanence of the union between the two countries can alone be established. This fatal system of coercion and terror, which ministers seem resolved to persevere in, has made half Europe submit to the arms of France, and has given the air of romance or rather of enchantment to the career of her conquests. Now in Holland -now on the Rhine-almost at the same moment overturning the states of Italy, and overawing the empire at the gates of Vienna. Without meaning to under-rate the unexampled energies of a mighty nation repelling the atrocious combinations of despotism against her liberties, the nations with which she

contended had no privileges to fight for, nor any governments worth preserving; they felt therefore no interest in their preservation. Whilst the powers of such governments remained, their subjects were drawn up in arms, and appeared to be armies; but when invasion had silenced the power which oppressed them, they became in a moment the subjects and the soldiers of their invaders. Take warning from so many examples-the principles of revolution are eternal and universa..

Let me conclude with repeating again, that the condition of this country renders a reform most critically seasonable. The nation stands in the most perilous predicament. Government is forced to call upon the people for greater exertions than at former times: burdens which appeared impracticable even in speculation, are now to be carried into practical effect. This must be done either by affection or coercion; and this is the moment for the choice. Give the people the blessings of the Constitution, and they will arm with ardor in its defence: raise within these walls a standard which was never before raised, around which the friends of the Constitution may rally, and to which the people will be attracted by the feelings of confidence and attachment; and it will give general satisfaction; it wil unite all who are divided, and create a general spirit to bear up against the calamities by which we are surrounded.

SPEECH OF MR M'INTOSH,

(SINCE, SIR JAMES M'INTOSH,)

IN THE COURT OF KING'S BENCH, FEBRUARY 21, 1803, ON THE

TRIAL OF M. PELTIER FOR A LIBEL ON THE

FIRST CONSUL OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC.

GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY,

The time is now come for me to address you on behalf of the unfortunate gentleman who is the defendant on this record. I must begin with observing, that though I know myself too well to ascribe to anything but to the kindness and good nature of my learned friend the attorney general, the unmerited praises which he has been pleased to bestow on me, yet I will venture to say, he has done me no more than justice in supposing that in this place, and on this occasion, where I exercise the functions of an inferior minister indeed, but a minister of justice still, I am incapable of lending myself to the passions of any client, and that I will not make the proceedings of this court subservient to any political purpose.

Whatever is respected by the laws and government of my country shall, in this place, be respected by me. In considering matters that deeply interest the quiet, the safety, and the liberty of all mankind, it is impossible for me not to feel warmly and strongly; but I shall make an effort to control my feelings however painful that effort may be, and where I cannot speak out, but at the risk of offending either sincerity or prudence, I shall labor to contain myself and be silent.

I cannot but feel, gentlemen, how much I stand in need of your favorable attention and indulgence. The charge which 1 have to defend is surrounded with the most invidious topics of discussion; but they are not of my seeking. The case and the topics which are inseparable from it, are brought here by the prosecutor.

Here I find them, and here it is my duty to deal with them, as the interests of M. Peltier seem to me to require. He, by his choice and confidence, has cast on me a very arduous duty, which I could not decline, and which I can still less betray. He has a right to expect from me, a faithful, a zealous, and a fearless defence; and this his just expectation, according to the measure of my humble abilities shall be fulfilled. I have said

a fearless defence. Perhaps that word was unnecessary in the place where I now stand. Intrepidity in the discharge of pro fessional duty is so common a quality at the English bar, that it has, thank God, long ceased to be a matter of boast or praise. If it had been otherwise, gentlemen, if the bar could have been silenced or overawed by power, I may presume to say, that an English jury would not this day have been met to administer justice. Perhaps I need scarce say that my defence shall be fearless, in a place where fear never entered any heart but that of a criminal. But you will pardon me for having said so much, when you consider who the real parties before you are.

Gentlemen, the real prosecutor is the master of the greatest empire the civilized world ever saw. The defendant is a defenceless proscribed exile. He is a French royalist, who fled from his country in the autumn of 1792, at the period of that memorable and awful emigration when all the proprietors and magistrates of the greatest civilized country of Europe were driven from their homes by the daggers of assassins; when our shores were covered, as with the wreck of a great tempest, with old men, and women, and children, and ministers of religion, who fled from the ferocity of their countrymen as before an army of invading barbarians.

The greatest part of these unfortunate exiles, of those I mean who have been spared by the sword, who have survived the effect of pestilential climates or broken hearts, have been since permitted to revisit their country. Though despoiled of their all, they have eagerly embraced even the sad privilege of being suffered to die in their native land.

Even this miserable indulgence was to be purchased by compliances, by declarations of allegiance to the new government, which some of these suffering royalists deemed incompatible with their consciences, with their dearest attachments, and their most sacred duties. Among these last is M. Peltier. I do not presume to blame those who submitted, and I trust you will not judge harshly of those who refused. You will not think unfavorably of a man who stands before you as the voluntary victim of his loyalty and honor. If a revolution (which God avert) were to drive us into exile, and to cast us on a foreign shore, we should expect, at least, to be pardoned by generous men, for stubborn loyalty, and unseasonable fidelity to the laws and government of our fathers.

This unfortunate gentleman had devoted a great part of his life to literature. It was the amusement and ornament of his better days. Since his own ruin, and the desolation of his country, he has been compelled to employ it as a means of sup port. For the last ten years he has been engaged in a variety

of publications of considerable importance; but, since the peace, he has desisted from serious political discussion, and confined himself to the obscure Journal which is now before you; the least calculated, surely, of any publication that ever issued from the press, to rouse the alarms of the most jealous government; which will not be read in England, because it is not written in our language; which cannot be read in France because its entry into that country is prohibited by a power whose mandates are not very supinely enforced, nor often evaded with impunity; which can have no other object than that of amusing the companions of the author's principles and misfortunes, by pleasantries and sarcasms on their victorious enemies. There is, indeed, gentlemen, one remarkable circumstance in this unfortunate publication: it is the only, or almost the only, journal, which still dares to espouse the cause of that royal and illustrious family, which but fourteen years ago was flattered by every press, and guarded by every tribunal in Europe. Even the court in which we are met affords an example of the vicissitudes of their fortune. My learned friend has reminded you, that the last prosecution tried in this place, at the instance of a French government, was for a libel on that magnanimous princess, who has since been butchered in sight of her palace.

I do not make these observations with any purpose of questioning the general principles which have been laid down by my learned friend. I must admit his right to bring before you those who libel any government recognized by his majesty, an at peace with the British empire. I admit that whether such a government be of yesterday, or a thousand years old, whether it be a crude and bloody usurpation, or the most ancient, just, and paternal authority upon earth, we are here equally bound by his majesty's recognition to protect it against libellous attacks. I admit that if, during our usurpation, Lord Clarendon had published his history at Paris, or the Marquis of Montrose his verses on the murder of his sovereign, or Mr. Cowley his Discourse on Cromwell's government, and if the English ambassador had complained, the President de Molí, or any other of the great magistrates who then adorned the parliament of Paris, however reluctantly, painfully, and indignantly, might have been compelled to have condemned these illustrious men to the punishment of libellers. I say this only for the sake of bespeaking a favorable attention from your generosity and compassion to what will be feebly urged in behalf of my unfortunate client, who has sacrificed his fortune, his hopes, his connexions, his country, to his conscience; who seems marked out for destruction in this his last asylum.