One grave error was committed by Mr. Cobbett in his defence: it was very weak for him to say that the words were written _in haste_.[1] Otherwise, the general burden of his speech was: how atrociously he had been calumniated, from his first appearance as an independent writer, to the present moment, with the Attorney’s unjust imputations on his loyalty and honesty; and how the Government was known to be influencing the propagation of such calumny. That he had done good to his neighbours and to his country, according to his measure. That the Attorney’s forced construction of his words could not be borne out. That his attachment to the British soldier could not be questioned. That the so-called Hanoverian legion was composed, to a great extent, of persons of no country; and that they were a nuisance, from their general bad behaviour, in whatever part of England they happened to be quartered.[2] This last was, of course, a fresh libel, of which the Attorney-General did not fail to make a new point. And he had the meanness to try and prove that the delay in the prosecution was the defendant’s own doing.[3] He thought, too, that the defendant had better consulted his character and fame, by going along with the three other culprits, in suffering judgment to go by default. Lord Ellenborough went through the libel _seriatim_, making his own comments; and concluded, after asking the jury whether its tendency was not to injure the military service,-- “It is for you to say whether these be words escaped in haste from a man, otherwise writing temperately, but whose zeal overshot his discretion; or whether they are the words of a man who wished to dissolve the union of the military, upon which, at all times, but now especially at this time, the safety of the kingdom depends. If this latter be the case, surely the defendant will meritedly fall under the character of that seditious person, which the information charges him with being. In cases like the present, the law requires me to state my opinion to the jury; and, where I have held a different opinion to that which I have of the present case, I have not withheld it from the jury. I do pronounce this to be a most infamous and seditious libel.” It was now midnight, and the jury had nothing in the shape of a doubt in their minds. Why should they have? They had no doubts when they took their seats in the morning. Juries were juries in those days; why should they have doubts, at the end of a drama, for the particular conclusion of which they were particularly brought together? So they “consulted” for about two minutes, and returned their verdict of “_Guilty_.” J. SWANN to J. WRIGHT.