Willy Reilly Part 58

"And now, gentlemen, we expect a calm, deliberate, and unbia.s.sed verdict from you. Look upon the prisoner at the bar as an innocent man until you can, with a clear conscience, find him guilty of the charges which we are in a condition to prove against him; but if there be any doubt upon your minds, I hope you will give him the benefit of it."

Sir Robert Whitecraft, in fact, had no defence, and could procure no witnesses to counteract the irresistible body of evidence that was produced against him. Notwithstanding all this, his friends calculated upon the prejudices of a Protestant jury. His leading counsel made as able a speech in his defence as could be made under the circ.u.mstances.

It consisted, however, of vague generalities, and dwelt upon the state of the country and the necessity that existed for men of great spirit and Protestant feeling to come out boldly, and, by courage and energy, carry the laws that had pa.s.sed for the suppression of Popery into active and wholesome operation. "Those laws were pa.s.sed by the wisest and ablest a.s.sembly of legislators in the world, and to what purpose could legislative enactments for the preservation of Protestant interests be pa.s.sed if men of true faith and loyalty could not be found to carry them into effect. There were the laws; the prisoner at the bar did not make those laws, and if he was invested with authority to carry them into operation, what did he do but discharge a wholesome and important duty?

The country was admitted, on all sides, to be in a disturbed state; Popery was attempting for years most insidiously to undermine the Protestant Church, and to sap the foundation of all Protestant interests; and if, by a pardonable excess of zeal, of zeal in the right direction, and unconscious lapse in the discharge of what he would call, those n.o.ble but fearful duties had occurred, was it for those who had a sense of true liberty, and a manly detestation of Romish intrigue at heart, to visit that upon the head of a true and loyal man as a crime. Forbid it, the spirit of the British Const.i.tution--forbid it, heaven--forbid it, Protestantism. No, gentlemen of the jury," etc., etc.

We need not go further, because we have condensed in the few sentences given the gist of all he said.

When the case was closed, the jury retired to their room, and as Sir Robert Whitecraft's fate depends upon their verdict, we will be kind enough to avail ourselves of the open sesame of our poor imagination to introduce our readers invisibly into the jury-room.

"Now," said the foreman, "what's to be done? Are we to sacrifice a Protestant champion to Popery?"

"To Popery! To the deuce," replied another. "It's not Popery that is prosecuting him. Put down Popery by argument, by fair argument, but don't murder those that profess it, in cold blood. As the Attorney*

General said, let us make it our own case, and if the Papishes treated us as we have treated them, what would we say? By jingo, I'll hang that fellow. He's a Protestant champion, they say; but I say he's a Protestant bloodhound, and a cowardly rascal to boot."

"How is he a cowardly rascal, Bob? Hasn't' he proved himself a brave man against the Papishes? eh?"

"A brave man! deuce thank him for being a brave man against poor devils that are allowed nothing stouter than a horse-rod to defend themselves with--when he has a party of well-armed bloodhounds at his back. He's the worst landlord in Ireland, and, above all things, he's a tyrant to his Protestant tenants, this champion of Protestantism. Ay, and fierce as he is against Popery, there's not a Papish tenant on his estate that he's not like a father to."

"And how the deuce do you know that?"

"Because I was head bailiff to him for ten years."

"But doesn't all the world know that he hates the Papists, and would have them ma.s.sacred if he could?"

"And so he does--and so he would; but it's all his cowardice, because he's afraid that if he was harsh to his Popish tenants some of them might shoot him from behind a hedge some fine night, and give him a leaden bullet for his supper."

"I know he's a coward," observed another, "because he allowed himself to be horsewhipped by Major Bingham, and didn't call him out for it."

"Oh, as to that," said another, "it was made up by their friends; but what's to be done? All the evidence is against him, and we are on our oaths to find a verdict according to the evidence."

"Evidence be hanged," said another; "I'll sit here till doom's-day before I find him guilty. Are we, that are all loyal Protestants, to bring out a varjuice to please the Papishes? Oh, no, faith; but here's the thing, gentlemen; mark me; here now, I take off my shoes, and I'll ait them before I find him guilty;" and as he spoke he deliberately slipped of his shoes, and placed them on the table, ready for his tough and loyal repast.

"By Gog," said another, "I'll hang him, in spite of your _teeth_; and, afther aiten your brogues, you may go barefooted if you like. I have brogues to ait as well as you, and one of mine is as big as two of yours."

This was followed by a chorus of laughter, after which they began to consider the case before them, like admirable and well-reasoning jurors, as they were. Two hours pa.s.sed in wrangling and talking and recriminating, when, at last, one of them, striking the table, exclaimed with an oath:

"All Europe won't save the villain. Didn't he seduce my sister's daughter, and then throw her and her child back, with shame and disgrace, on the family, without support?"

"Look at that," said the owner of the shoe, holding it up triumphantly; "that's my supper to-night, and my argument in his defence. I say our--Protestant champion mustn't hang, at least until I starve first."

The other, who sat opposite to him, put his hand across the table, and s.n.a.t.c.hing the shoe, struck its owner between the two eyes with it and knocked him back on the floor. A scene of uproar took place, which lasted for some minutes, but at length, by the influence of the foreman, matters were brought to a somewhat amicable issue. In this way they spent the time for a few hours more, when one of the usual messengers came to know if they had agreed; but he was instantly dismissed to a very warm settlement, with the a.s.surance that they had not.

"Come," said one of them, pulling out a pack of cards, "let us amuse ourselves at any rate. Who's for a hand at the Spoil Five?"

The cards were looked upon as a G.o.dsend, and in a few moments one half the jury were busily engaged at that interesting game. The other portion of them amused themselves, in the meantime, as well as they could.

"Tom," said one of them, "were you ever on a special jury in a revenue case?"

"No," replied Tom, "never. Is there much fun?"

"The devil's own fun; because if we find for the defendant, he's sure to give us a splendid feed. But do you know how we manage when we find that we can't agree?"

"No. How is it?"

"Why, you see, when the case is too clear against him, and that to find for him would be too barefaced, we get every man to mark down on a slip of paper the least amount of damages he is disposed to give against him; when they're all down, we tot them up, and divide by twelve--"*

*By no means an uncommon proceeding in revenue cases, even at the present day.

"Silence," said another, "till we hear John d.i.c.kson's song."

The said John d.i.c.kson was at the time indulging them with a comic song, which was encored with roars of laughter.

"Hallo!" shouted one of those at the cards, "here's Jack Brereton has prigged the ace of hearts."

"Oh, gentlemen," said Jack, who was a greater knave at the cards than any in the pack, "upon, my honor, gentlemen, you wrong me."

"There--he has dropped it," said another; "look under the table."

The search was made, and up was lugged the redoubtable ace of hearts from under one of Jack's feet, who had hoped, by covering it, to escape detection. Detected, however, he was, and, as they all knew him well, the laughter was loud accordingly, and none of them laughed louder than Jack himself.

"Jack," said another of them, "let us have a touch of the legerdemain."

"Gentlemen, attention," said Jack. "Will any of you lend me a halfpenny?"

This was immediately supplied to him, and the first thing he did was to stick it on his forehead--although there had been bra.s.s enough there before--to which it appeared to have been glued; after a s.p.a.ce he took it off and placed it in the palm of his right hand, which he closed, and then, extending both his hands, shut, asked those about him in which hand it was. Of course they all said in the right; but, upon Jack's opening the said hand, there was no halfpenny there.

In this way they discussed a case of life or death, until another knock came, which "knock" received the same answer as before.

"Faith," said a powerful-looking farmer from near the town of Boyle--the very picture of health, "if they don't soon let us out I'll get sick.

It's I that always does the sickness for the jury when we're kept in too long."

"Why, then, Billy Bradley," asked one of them, "how could you, of all men living, sham sickness on a doctor?"

"Because," said Billy, with a grin, "I'm beginning to feel a divarsion of blood to the head, for want of a beefsteak and a pot o' porther. My father and grandfather both died of a divarsion of blood to the head."

"I rather think," observed another, "that they died by taking their divarsion at the beefsteak and the pot of porter."

"No matther," said Billy, "they died at all events, and so will we all, plaise G.o.d."

"Gome," said one of them, "there is Jack Brereton and his cane--let us come to business. What do you say, Jack, as to the prisoner?"

Jack at the time had the aforesaid cane between his legs, over which he was bent like a bow, with the head of it in his mouth.

"Are you all agreed?" asked Jack.

"All for a verdict of guilty, with the exception of this fellow and his shoes."

Jack Brereton was a handsome old fellow, with a red face and a pair of watery eyes; he was a little lame, and crippled as he walked, in consequence of a hip complaint, which he got by a fall from a jaunting-car; but he was now steady enough, except the grog.