But the chances are that he will be acquitted, for few juries ever resisted the influence of O'Connell's persuasive eloquence.
Such is the scene exhibited by one glance backward:--such, five-and-twenty years ago, was constantly occurring in the Irish courts of law when O'Connell practiced at the bar.
Even at the risk of being accounted tedious, I cannot conclude this sketch without mentioning another anecdote, which, even better than a lengthened disquisition, may show that I do not overrate the extraordinary ingenuity and quickness for which I give O'Connell such ample credit. One of the most remarkable personages in Cork, for a series of years, was a sharp-witted little fellow named John Boyle,[26] who published a periodical called _The Freeholder_. As Boyle did not see that any peculiar dignity hedged the corrupt Corporation of Cork, his _Freeholder_ was remarkable for severe and satirical remarks upon its members, collectively and personally. Owing to the very great precautions as to the mode of publication, it was next to impossible for the Corporation to proceed against him for libel;--if they could have done so, his punishment was certain, for in those days there were none but "Corporation juries," and the fact that Boyle was hostile to the municipal _clique_, was quite enough for these worthy administrators of justice. It happened, on the occasion of a crowded benefit at the theatre, that Boyle and one of the Sheriffs were coming out of the pit at the same moment. A sudden crush drove the scribe against the Sheriff, and the concussion was so great that the latter had two of his ribs broken. There could be no doubt that the whole was accidental; but it was too lucky not to be taken advantage of. Mr. Boyle was prosecuted for assault. O'Connell was retained for the defence. The trial came on before a Corporation jury. The evidence was extremely slight; but it was an understood thing that on _any_ evidence, or _no_ evidence, the jury would convict Boyle. Mr. O'Connell (who was personally inimical to the Corporation) scarcely cross-examined a witness and called none in defence.
[26] Boyle died at Limerick, in 1833, of cholera.
He proceeded to reply. After some hyperbolical compliments on the "well-known impartiality, independence, and justice of a Cork jury," he proceeded to address them thus:--"I had no notion that the case is what it is; therefore I call no witnesses. As I have received a brief, and its accompaniment--a fee--I must address you. I am not in the vein for making a speech, so, gentlemen, I shall tell you a story. Some years ago I went, specially, to Clonmel assizes, and accidentally witnessed a trial which I never shall forget. A wretched man, a native of the county of Tipperary, was charged with the murder of his neighbour. It seemed that an ancient feud existed between them. They had met at a fair and exchanged blows: again, that evening, they met at a low pot-house, and the bodily interference of friends alone prevented a fight between them. The prisoner was heard to vow vengeance against his rival. The wretched victim left the house, followed soon after by the prisoner, and was found next day on the roadside--murdered, and his face so barbarously beaten in by a stone, that he could only be identified by his dress. The facts were strong against the prisoner--in fact it was the strongest case of circumstantial evidence I ever met with. As a matter of form--for of his guilt there could be no doubt--the prisoner was called on for his defence. He called, to the surprise of every one,--_the murdered man_. And the murdered man came forward. It seemed that another man had been murdered,--that the identification by dress was vague, for all the peasantry of Tipperary wear the same description of clothes,--that the presumed victim had got a hint that he would be arrested under the Whiteboy Act,--had fled,--and only returned, with a noble and Irish feeling of justice, when he found that his ancient foe was in jeopardy on his account. The case was clear: the prisoner was innocent. The judge told the jury that it was unnecessary to charge them. But they requested permission to retire. They returned in about two hours, when the foreman, with a long face, handed in the verdict 'Guilty.' Every one was astonished. 'Good God!' said the judge, 'of what is he guilty? Not of murder, surely?'--'No, my lord,' said the foreman; 'but, _if he did not murder that man, sure he stole my gray mare three years ago_!'"[27]