Nothing could equal his ignorance and
want of common capacity during these trials. His face was as free from
every visible trace of meaning as if he had been born an idiot. No block
was ever more impenetrable than he.
"What is the noble gintleman sayin'?" he would ask in Irish; and on
having that explained, he would inquire, "what is that?" then demand a
fresh explanation of the last one, and so on successively, until he was
given up in despair.
Sometimes, in cases of a capital nature, Phelim, with the consent of his
friends, would come forward and make disclosures, in order to have them
put upon their trial and acquitted; lest a real approver, or some one
earnestly disposed to prosecute, might appear against them. Now the
alibi and its usual accompaniments are all of old standing in Ireland;
but the master-stroke to which we have alluded is a modern invention.
Phelim would bear evidence against them; and whilst the government--for
it was mostly in government prosecutions he adventured this--believed
they had ample grounds for conviction in his disclosures, it little
suspected that the whole matter was a plan to defeat itself. In
accordance with his design, he gave such evidence upon the table as
rendered conviction hopeless. His great object was to damn his own
character as a witness, and to make such blunders, premeditated slips,
and admissions, as just left him within an inch of a prosecution for
perjury.
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