pearance upon the table, the living image of life and of death, and the supreme arbiter of both? Have you not marked, when he entered, how the stormy wave of the multitude retired at his approach? Have you not seen how the human heart bowed to the supremacy of his power, in the undissembled homage of deferential horror? How his glance, like the lightning of heaven, seemed to rive the body of the accused, and mark it for the grave, while his voice warned the devoted wretch of woe and death,-a death which no innocence can escape, no art elude, no force resist, no antidote prevent. There was an antidote,-a juror's oath! But even that adamantine chain that bound the integrity of man to the throne of eternal justice is solved and molten in the breath that issues from the informer's mouth. Conscience swings from her moorings, and the appalled and affrighted juror consults his own safety in the surrender of his victim:

'Et quae sibi quisque timebat,

Unius in miseri exitium conversa tulere.'

informers are worshipped in the temple of justice, even as the devil has been worshipped by pagans and savages; even so, in this wicked country, is the informer an object of judicial idolatry; even so is he soothed by the music of human groans; even so is he placated and incensed by the fumes and by the blood of human sacrifices."

Deeply sensible of his duty, and proud of his privilege as an advocate in such stirring times, he modestly and gracefully referred. on the trial of Judge Johnson, to his own services:

"No man dares to mutter, no newspaper dares to whisper, that such a question is afloat. It seems an inquiry among the tombs, or, rather, in the shades beyond them. 'Ibant sola sub nocte per umbram.' I am glad that it is so; I am glad of this factitious dumbness; for if murmurs dare to become audible, my voice would be too feeble to drown them. But when all is hushed, when nature sleeps,-'Cum quies mortalibus aegris,'-the weakest voice is heard; the shepherd's whistle shoots across the listening darkness of the interminable heath, and gives notice that the wolf is upon his walk, and the same gloom and stillness that tempt the monster to come abroad facilitate the communication of the warping to beware."

So often defeated in his best efforts, oppressed by responsibility, and exhausted by his labors, it is not to be wondered at that he looked beyond legal tribunals for final judgment. As he said to the judges in moving to set aside the verdict against Rowan:

"You are standing on the scanty isthmus that divides the great ocean of duration,-a ground that, while you yet hear me, is washed from beneath your feet. Let me remind you, my lord, while your determination is yet in your power, 'Dum versatur adhuc intra penetralia vestae,' that on that ocean of future you must set your judgment afloat, and future ages will assume the same authority which you have assumed; posterity feel the same emotions which you have felt when your little hearts have beaten, and your infant eyes have overflowed, at read ing the sad history of the sufferings of a Russell or a Sidney.”

Curran's acceptance of judicial office was a mistake. His temperament was forensic, rather than judicial, and his technical learning was inadequate for judicial station. He lost interest in his work, and, like Erskine, enjoyed himself most in rehearsing the scenes of his early activity. His parliamentary career, though important, was not particularly distinguished; but there can be no doubt of his devotion to his country. As O'Connell said, "There never was so honest an Irishman."1

1 His opinion in the case of Merry v. Power is his ablest judicial effort.

ARGUMENT IN THE CASE OF THE REV. CHARLES MASSY AGAINST THE MARQUIS OF HEADFORT, AT THE ENNIS ASSIZES, COUNTY CLARE, IRELAND, BEFORE BARON SMITH AND

A SPECIAL JURY, 1804

STATEMENT.

This was an action for criminal conversation. The Rev. Charles Massy, the plaintiff, was a clergyman, who, in 1796, had married, contrary to his father's wishes, and at a sacrifice of £16,000 a year, Miss Rosslewin, a girl of eighteen, of remarkable personal attractions. In 1803, while they were living at Summer Hill, about five miles from Limerick, the Marquis of Headfort, an officer in the British army, was quartered with his regiment in Limerick. As the marquis' mother had been a former parishioner of Mr. Massy's, the two became acquainted, and the marquis, who was then over fifty years of age, was shown every hospitality. Shortly afterwards, while Mr. Massy was engaged in the service of his church, Mrs. Massy eloped with the marquis. The case was argued by Bartholomew Hoar and John Philpot Curran for the plaintiff, and by Thomas Quin and George Ponsonby for the defendant. Bartholomew Hoar opened the case in a speech of great power. His striking simile is often quoted: "The Cornish plunderer, intent on the spoil, callous to every touch of humanity, shrouded in darkness, holds out false lights to the tempest-tossed vessel, and lures her and her pilot to that shore upon which she must be lost forever,-the rock unseen, the ruffian invisible, and nothing apparent but the treacherous signal of security and repose. So, this prop of the throne, this pillar of the state, this stay of religion, the ornament of the peerage, this common protector of the people's privileges and of the crown's prerogatives, descends from these high grounds of character to muffle himself in the gloom of his own base and dark designs; to play before the eyes of the deluded wife and the deceived husband the falsest lights of love to the one, and of friendly and hospitable regards to the other, until she is at length dashed upon that hard bosom where her honor and happiness are wrecked and lost forever."

The defense did not deny the fact charged, but defended upon the theory that, in view of Mrs. Massy's frivolous character, the plaintiff was guilty of constructive connivance in permitting her to associate with the marquis. After Curran's closing speech for the plaintiff, the jury promptly returned a verdict for the plaintiff, and fixed his damages at £10,000. This cause enlisted Curran's feelings, as well as his intellect, for he himself had suffered a similar wrong. It is unquestionably the best specimen of his eloquence.

ARGUMENT.

Never so clearly as in the present instance have I observed that safeguard of justice which Providence has placed in the nature of man. Such is the imperious dominion with which truth and reason wave their scepter over the human intellect, that no solicita

tion, however artful, no talent, however commanding, can reduce it from its allegiance. In proportion to the humility of our submission to its rule do we rise into some faint emulation of that ineffable and presiding divinity, whose characteristic attribute it is to be coerced and bound by the inexorable laws of its own nature, so as to be all-wise and all-just from necessity, rather than election. You have seen it, in the learned advocate who has preceded me, most peculiarly and strikingly illustrated. You have seen even his great talents, perhaps the first in any country, languishing under a cause too weak to carry him, and too heavy to be carried by him. He was forced to dismiss his natural candor and sincerity, and, having no merits in his case, to substitute the dignity of his own manner, the resources of his own ingenuity, over the overwhelming difficulties with which he was surrounded. Wretched client! unhappy advocate! What a combination do you form! But such is the condition of guilt,-its commission mean and tremulous; its defense artificial and insincere; its prosecution candid and simple; its condemnation dignified and austere. Such has been the defendant's guilt, such his defense, such shall be my address, and such, I trust, your verdict.

The learned counsel has told you that this unfortunate woman is not to be estimated at £40,000. Fatal and unquestionable is the truth of this assertion. Alas! gentlemen, she is no longer worth anything. Faded, fallen, degraded, and disgraced, she is worth less than nothing. But it is for the honor, the hope, the expectation, the tenderness, and the comforts that have been blasted by the defendant, and have fled forever, that you are to remunerate the plaintiff by the punishment of the defendant. It is not her present value which you are to weigh, but it is her value at that time when she sat basking in a husband's love, with the blessing of Heaven on her head, and its purity in her heart; when she sat among her family, and administered the morality of the parental board. Estimate that past value, compare it with its present deplorable diminution, and it may lead you to form some judgment of the severity of the injury and the extent of the compensation.

The learned counsel has told you you ought to be cautious, because your verdict cannot be set aside for excess. The assertion is just; but has he treated you fairly by its application? His cause would not allow him to be fair,—for why is the rule adopted in this single action? Because, this being peculiarly an injury to the most susceptible of all human feelings, it leaves the injury

of the husband to be ascertained by the sensibility of the jury, and does not presume to measure the justice of their determination by the cold and chilly exercise of its own discretion. In any other action it is easy to calculate. If a tradesman's arm is cut off, you can measure the loss which he has sustained; but the wound of feeling and the agony of the heart cannot be judged by any standard with which I am acquainted. You are therefore unfairly dealt with when you are called on to appreciate the present suffering of the husband by the present guilt, delinquency, and degradation of his wife. As well might you, if called on to give compensation to a man for the murder of his dearest friend, find the measure of his injury by weighing the ashes of the dead. But it is not, gentlemen of the jury, by weighing the ashes of the dead that you would estimate the loss of the survivor.

The learned counsel has referred you to other cases and other countries for instances of moderate verdicts. I can refer you to some authentic instances of just ones. In the next county, £15.000 against a subaltern officer. In Travers and McCarthy, £5,000 against a servant. In Tighe vs. Jones, £10,000 against a man not worth a shilling. What, then, ought to be the rule where rank and power and wealth and station have combined to render the example of his crime more dangerous; to make his guilt more. odious; to make the injury to the plaintiff more grievous, because more conspicuous? I affect no leveling familiarity when I speak of persons in the higher ranks of society. Distinctions of orders are necessary, and I always feel disposed to treat them with respect. But when it is my duty to speak of the crimes by which they are degraded, I am not so fastidious as to shrink from their contact, when to touch them is essential to their dissection. In this action, the condition, the conduct, and circumstances of the party are justly and peculiarly the objects of your consideration. Who are the parties? The plaintiff, young, amiable, of family and education. Of the generous disinterestedness of his heart you can form an opinion even from the evidence of the defendant that he declined an alliance which would have added to his fortune and consideration, and which he rejected for an unportioned union. with his present wife. She, too, at that time young, beautiful, and accomplished, and feeling her affection for her husband increase in proportion as she remembered the ardor of his love, and the sincerity of his sacrifice. Look now to the defendant! I blush to name him! I blush to name a rank which he has tarnished, and a patent that he has worse than canceled! High in the army,