From a review of the cases, it therefore appears, that the failures of a state prosecution have been comparatively few; and that the crown has met with even more than the average success which the “glorious uncertainty of the law” in general permits to those who tempt its waywardness, and risk the perils of defeat.  The welfare and interest of the nation, however, lie in the general results of these proceedings, rather than the particular event of an individual trial.  Therefore, though we should assume that a part only of what was intended has been accomplished, still if that portion produces the same general results as were hoped for from the successful accomplishment of the whole, the object of the government has been attained.  Now, it may be observed, that, with perhaps the single exception of the case of Mr O’Connell in 1831, the end and object of all state prosecution 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,