Counsellor Philipps's [sic] correct speeches in the following causes of crim. con. Guthrie v. Sterne, Creighton v. Townsend, Black v. Widow Wilkins, Brown v. Blake / [Charles Phillips].

  • Charles Phillips
Date:
1817
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: Counsellor Philipps's [sic] correct speeches in the following causes of crim. con. Guthrie v. Sterne, Creighton v. Townsend, Black v. Widow Wilkins, Brown v. Blake / [Charles Phillips]. Source: Wellcome Collection.

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    GUTHRIE v. STERNE. Mr. Costello opened the Pleadings by stating that it was an Ac¬ tion brought against the Defendant for Criminal Conversation with Plaintiff’s Wife, and that the Damages were laid at £00,000. Mr. Phillips rose, and addressed the Court and Jury in the follow¬ ing words: — My Lord and Gentlemen, In this case I am of counsel for the Plaintiff, who lias deputed me with tile kind concession of my much more efficient colleagues to de¬ tail to you the story of his misfortunes. In the course of a long friend¬ ship which has existed between us, originating in mutual pursuits, and cemented by mutual attachment, never until this instant did I feel any thing but pleasure in the claims which it created, or the duty which it imposed. In selecting me, however, from this bright array of learn¬ ing and of eloquence, I cannot kelp being pained at the kindness of a partiality, which forgets its interest in the exercise of its affection, and confides the task of practised wisdom, to the uncertain guidance of youth and inexperience. He has thought perhaps that truth needed no set phrase of speech—that misfortunes should not veil the furrows which its tears had burned, or hide under the decorations of an artful drapery, the heart-rent heavings with which its bosom throbbed—he has surely thought, that by contrasting mine with the powerful talents selected by his antagonist, he was given you a proof that the appeal he made, was to your reason—not your feelings—to the integrity of your hearts, not the exasperation of your passions. Happily, however for him, hapnily for you, happily for the country, happily for the profession, on subjects such as this, the experience of the oldest among us is but slender—deeds such as this, are not indige« nous to an Irish soil, or naturalized beneath an Irish climate.—We hear of them indeed as we do of the earthquakes that convulse, or the pestilence that infects less favoured regions, but the record of the ca¬ lamity is only read with the generous scepticism of innocence, or an involuntary thanksgiving to the Providence that has preserved us. No matter how we may have graduated on the scale of nations—no bles¬ sing we may have been denied—no matter what may have been our feuds, our follies, or our misfortunes, it has at least been universally conceded that our hearts were the home of the domestic virtues, and that love, honour, and conjugal fidelity were the dear and indisputable Deities of our household—around the fire-sides of the Irish hovel, hospitality circumscribed its sacred circle, and a provision to punish, created a suspicion of the hospitality of its violation. But of all the ties that bound; of all the bounties that blessed her, Ireland most obeyed, most loved, most reverenced the nuptial contract. She saw it, the gift of heaven, the charm of earth, the joy of the present, the promise of the future, the innocence of enjoyment, the chastity of passion—the sacrament of love—the slender curtain, that shades the sanctuary of her marriage bed, has in its purity the splendour of the mountain snow, and its protection the texture of the mountain adamant. Gentlemen, thatna« tional sanctuary has been invaded, that venerable divinity has been