ution has been uniformly and completely accomplished,
by the suppression of the evil which the crown in each instance was
anxious to put down. When this has taken place, there can have been no
failure. Beyond what is necessary for the welfare of the state, and
the general safety and security of the persons and property of
individuals, the crown has no interest in inflicting punishment; it
never asks for more than is required to effect _these objects_, and it
can scarcely be content with less.

There are, however, difficulties almost peculiar to the more serious
offences against the state, but which are entirely different, in their
nature, from those imaginary difficulties which have formed the
subject of so much declamation. A passing glance at the proceedings
now pending in Ireland, will give the most casual observer some idea
of what is sometimes to be encountered by those to whom is entrusted
the arduous duty of conducting a state prosecution. Look back on the
"tempest of provocation," which recently assailed the Irish
Attorney-General, on the vexatious delays and frivolous objections
which sprang up at every move of the crown lawyers, called forth by
one who, though "_not valiant_," was well known to the government to
be "most cunning offence" ere they challenged him, but who, "despite
his cunning fence and active practice," may perhaps find, that this
time the law has clutched him with a grasp of iron. In ordinary cases,
criminals may, no doubt, be easily convicted; and in the great
majority of the more common crimes and misdemeanours, the utmost legal
ingenuity and acumen might be unable to detect a single error in the
proceedings, from first to last. Still it must be remembered, that
even among the more common of ordinary cases, in which the forms are
simple, the practice certain, and in which the law may be supposed to
be already defined beyond the possibility of doubt, error, or
misconception--even in such cases, questions occasionally arise which
scarcely admit of any satisfactory solution--questions in which the
fifteen judges, to whom they may be referred, often find it impossible
to agree, and which may therefore be reasonably supposed to be
sufficiently perplexing to the rest of the world. State offences, such
as treason and sedition, which are of comparatively rare occurrence,
present many questions of greater intricacy than any other class of
crimes. In treason especially, a well-founded jealousy of the