ing the guilt or innocence of accused persons is, in England, the basis of public liberty, the bulwark of the people against oppression, the legal guarantee of life, of honor, and of the property of the citizens. A jury is the buckler of innocence against unjust accusations, and the sworn arbiter of those who have recourse to the tribunals in order to obtain justice. Under this institution the laws may be the means of protection or of destruction, of hope or of misery, according to the spirit, the firmness, and the integrity of the jurors." This is the language of a writer at the beginning of the present century. They are his opening words—the overture, so to speak, of his work. But the qualification he has seen fit to append to it seems, logically, to bring the wordy structure to the ground.
How the jury can be "the basis of public liberty, the bulwark of the oppressed, the buckler of innocence," and so on, and yet depend for all these upon the character of the men who compose it, one can hardly imagine. If the jurymen were all wise, honest, and true—if, in short, they were perfect—we would, undoubtedly, have perfect verdicts. But, if all judges were perfect, the same result would be arrived at in a much simpler way. We can only look for perfect judges and perfect juries when all mankind are perfect; and, when all mankind are perfect, there will be no need of either. And though the jury may have been once all that is thus ascribed to it, how can it be so now? In what manner can it be said to be the basis of public liberty at the present day, and who are the oppressed?
The ideal juryman is not supposed to be more perfect than the ordinary run of mankind; but he is supposed to enter the jury-box free from all prejudices or predilections concerning the matter to be decided. He is supposed to be chosen according to a system which insures the highest degree of impartiality—a system which, in large communities at least, makes the selection of each juror a matter of pure chance. But in such communities there is a large amount of business to be disposed of, and a large number of persons, called a panel, is required, from which each particular jury is taken. This furnishes a considerable quantity of material—of raw material, it may be called—from which the actual twelve are to be selected. These persons are drawn from a class of society the most plastic, the most subject to prejudices and animosities; and it is a well-recognized part of the business of counsel to secure from among them those who may have leanings toward their clients.
Their success or otherwise in this particular is, in all cases of importance, made the subject of the closest calculation. And a counsel is not considered to have shown any marked aptitude if he has not upon the jury one or more upon whose sympathies he can count. The many interests of a national, religious, or friendly character which pervade all society aid in this.
The sympathies of coreligion, copatriotism or confraternity are all
