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Mr. Attorney-General had to inform the jury, that the prisoner before them,
though young in years, was old in the treasonable practices which claimed the
forfeit of his life. That this correspondence with the public enemy was not a
correspondence of to-day, or of yesterday, or even of last year, or of the year
before. That, it was certain the prisoner had, for longer than that, been in the
habit of passing and repassing between France and England, on secret business of
which he could give no honest account. That, if it were in the nature of
traitorous ways to thrive (which happily it never was), the real wickedness and
guilt of his business might have remained undiscovered. That Providence,
however, had put it into the heart of a person who was beyond fear and beyond
reproach, to ferret out the nature of the prisoner’s schemes, and, struck with
horror, to disclose them to his Majesty’s Chief Secretary of State and most
honourable Privy Council. That, this patriot would be produced before them.
That, his position and attitude were, on the whole, sublime. That, he had been
the prisoner’s friend, but, at once in an auspicious and an evil hour detecting
his infamy, had resolved to immolate the traitor he could no longer cherish in
his bosom, on the sacred altar of his country. That, if statues were decreed in
Britain, as in ancient Greece and Rome, to public benefactors, this shining
citizen would assuredly have had one. That, as they were not so decreed, he
probably would not have one. That, Virtue, as had been observed by the poets (in
many passages which he well knew the jury would have, word for word, at the tips
of their tongues; whereat the jury’s countenances displayed a guilty
consciousness that they knew nothing about the passages), was in a manner
contagious; more especially the bright virtue known as patriotism, or love of
country. That, the lofty example of this immaculate and unimpeachable witness
for the Crown, to refer to whom however unworthily was an honour, had
communicated itself to the prisoner’s servant, and had engendered in him a holy
determination to examine his master’s table-drawers and pockets, and secrete his
papers. That, he (Mr. Attorney-General) was prepared to hear some disparagement
attempted of this admirable servant; but that, in a general way, he preferred
him to his (Mr. Attorney-General’s) brothers and sisters, and honoured him more
than his (Mr. Attorney-General’s) father and mother. That, he called with
confidence on the jury to come and do likewise. That, the evidence of these two
witnesses, coupled with the documents of their discovering that would be
produced, would show the prisoner to have been furnished with lists of his
Majesty’s forces, and of their disposition and preparation, both by sea and
land, and would leave no doubt that he had habitually conveyed such information
to a hostile power. That, these lists could not be proved to be in the
prisoner’s handwriting; but that it was all the same; that, indeed, it was
rather the better for the prosecution, as showing the prisoner to be artful in
his precautions. That, the proof would go back five years, and would show the
prisoner already engaged in these pernicious missions, within a few weeks before
the date of the very first action fought between the British troops and the
Americans. That, for these reasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew
they were), and being a responsible jury (as THEY knew they were), must
positively find the prisoner Guilty, and make an end of him, whether they liked
it or not. That, they never could lay their heads upon their pillows; that, they
never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying their heads upon their
pillows; that, they never could endure the notion of their children laying their
heads upon their pillows; in short, that there never more could be, for them or
theirs, any laying of heads upon pillows at all, unless the prisoner’s head was
taken off. That head Mr. Attorney-General concluded by demanding of them, in the
name of everything he could think of with a round turn in it, and on the faith
of his solemn asseveration that he already considered the prisoner as good as
dead and gone.
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The attorney general told the jury that, although the prisoner was a young
man, he had been involved in treasonous activities for many years. It wasn’t as
if he had committed treason for the first time that day, or the day before, or
even the year before. He had been traveling between France and England for quite
a long time on secret business. If traitorous acts ever succeeded (which luckily
they never did), he might have never been caught. But Fate had caused a brave,
honest man to investigate this man and pass the information on to the
authorities. This good and patriotic man, with the most noble attitude, would be
brought before the jury. The attorney general said that the man had once been a
friend of the prisoner. But once he had learned of his evil doings, he decided
to turn his friend in. He said that if statues were built in Britain to honor
great citizens, as they were in ancient Greece and Rome, then there would surely
be a statue erected of this man. Unfortunately, though, this was not done in
England. He told the jury that virtue, which poets write about, was contagious.
(He said the jurors were sure to know the poems by hearts, but judging by their
looks, the jury didn’t.) The most contagious of virtues was patriotism, or love
of one’s country. This man was a prime example of a patriot, and just talking
about him was an honor. His patriotism led the prisoner’s servant to go through
his master’s desk drawers and pockets, and to look though his papers. The
attorney general was ready to hear others discredit this servant for betraying
his master, but he personally believed him to be a better person than his own
brothers and sisters, and he respected him more than his own mother and father.
He advised the jury to think similarly of the servant. The attorney general
explained that the testimony from these two men, along with the documents they
had discovered, would prove that the prisoner had had lists of the strength and
location of British forces, both at sea and on land, and that he had given this
information to the enemy. He explained that these lists were not in the
prisoner’s handwriting but that this only helped the prosecution because it
proved that he had been cautious. They would prove that he had been passing this
information for five years, and had already started to do so a few weeks before
the first battle between British troops and colonists in America. For these
reasons, the loyal, responsible citizens of the jury had no choice but to find
the prisoner guilty and sentence him to death, whether they wanted to or not.
The members of the jury, as well as their wives and children, could never sleep
soundly again unless the jurors sentenced the prisoner to have his head chopped
off. The attorney general ended by demanding that they find him guilty in the
name of everything good and decent, and he said he already considered the
prisoner as good as dead.
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