THE TRIALOFROBERT EMMET,UPON ANINDICTMENT FOR HIGH TREASON,Held, under a Special Commission, at the Sessions House, Green Street, on Monday, 19th of September, 1803.

JUDGES PRESENT.—LORD NORBURY, MR. BARON GEORGE, AND MR. BARON DALY.MR. STANDISH O’GRADY, ATTORNEY GENERAL.

JUDGES PRESENT.—LORD NORBURY, MR. BARON GEORGE, AND MR. BARON DALY.

MR. STANDISH O’GRADY, ATTORNEY GENERAL.

To the indictment, charging him with compassing the disposition and death of the king, and conspiring to levy war against the king within the realm, Mr. Emmet pleaded not guilty. He was then given in charge.

The indictment was then opened, in substance, to the following effect, by

THE ATTORNEY-GENERAL,

My Lord, and Gentlemen of the Jury:

It is my duty to state, as concisely as I can, the nature of the charge which has been preferredagainst the prisoner at the bar, and also the nature of the evidence which will be produced to substantiate the charge. It will require on your part the most deliberate consideration; because it is not only the highest crime of which at all times the subject can be guilty, but it receives, if possible, additional aggravation when we consider the state of Europe, and the lamentable consequences which revolution has already brought upon it.

Perhaps at former periods some allowance might be made for the heated imagination of enthusiasts; perhaps an extravagant love of liberty, might for a moment supersede a rational understanding, and might be induced, for want of sufficient experience or capacity, to look for that liberty in revolution. But it is not the road to liberty. It throws the mass of the people into agitation, only to bring the worst and the most profligate to the surface. It originates in anarchy, proceeds in bloodshed, and ends in cruel and unrelenting despotism.

Therefore, Gentlemen, the crime of which the prisoner stands charged, demands the most serious and deep investigation, because it is in its nature a crime of the blackest die, and which, under all existing circumstances, does not admit of a momentary explanation.

Gentlemen, the prisoner stands indicted under a very ancient statute—the 25th of Edward III.—and the indictment is grounded on three clauses. The first relates to compassing and imagining the death of the king—the second in adhering to his enemies—and the thirdin compassing to levy war against him. The two latter, namely, that of adhering to the king’s enemies, and that of compassing to levy war, are so intelligible in themselves that they do not require any observation upon them. But the first admits of some technical considerations, and may require on my part a short explanation.

In the language of the law, compassing the death of the king, does not mean or imply necessarily, any immediate attack upon his person. But any conspiracy, which has for its object an alteration of the laws, constitution, and government of the country by force, uniformly leads to anarchy and general destruction, and finally tends to endanger the life of the king. And, therefore, where that design is substantiated, and manifested by overt acts, whenever the party entertaining the design, uses any means to carry his traitorous intentions into execution, the crime of compassing and imagining the death of the king is complete.

Accordingly, gentlemen, this indictment particularly states overt acts, by which the prisoner disclosed the traitorous imagination of his heart—and, if it shall be necessary, those particular overt acts, and the applicability of the evidence which will be produced to support them, will be stated at large to you by the court, and therefore it will not be necessary for me now to trespass upon the public time, by a minute examination of them.

Gentlemen, having heard the charge against the prisoner, you will naturally feel that yourduty will require an investigation into two distinct points: first, whether there has, or has not existed a traitorous conspiracy and rebellion for the purpose of altering the law, the constitution, and the government of the country by force?—And, secondly, whether the prisoner has in any, and in what degree, participated in that conspiracy and rebellion?

Gentlemen, I do not wish to undertake to speak in the prophetic: but when I consider the vigilance and firmness of his majesty’s government, the spirit and discipline of his majesty’s troops, and that armed valour and loyalty which, from one end of the country to the other, has raised itself for the purpose of crushing domestic treason, and, if necessary, of meeting and repelling a foreign foe, I do not think it unreasonable to indulge a sanguinary hope, that a continuance of the same conduct upon the part of government, and of the same exertions upon the part of the people, will long preserve the nation free, happy and independent.

Gentlemen, upon former occasions, persons were brought to the bar of this court, implicated in the rebellion, in various, though inferior degrees. But if I am rightly instructed, we have now brought to the bar of justice, not a person who has been seduced by others, but a gentleman to whom the rebellion may be traced as the origin, the life, and soul of it. If I mistake not, it will appear that some time before Christmas last, the prisoner, who had visited foreign countries, and who for several monthsbefore had made a continental tour, embracing France, returned to this country, full of those mischievous designs which have been so fully exposed. He came from that country, in which he might well have learned the necessary effects of revolution; and therefore, if he be guilty of treason, he embarked in it with his eyes open, and with a previous knowledge of all its inevitable consequences.—But, notwithstanding, I am instructed that he persevered in fomenting a rebellion, which I will be bold to say, is unexampled in any country, ancient or modern. A rebellion which does not complain of any existing grievances, which does not flow from any immediate oppression, and which is not pretended to have been provoked by our mild and gracious king, or by the administration employed by him, to execute his authority. No, gentlemen, it is a rebellion which avows itself to come, not to remove any evil which the people feel, but to recal the memory of grievances, which, if they ever existed, must have long since passed away.

You will recollect, gentlemen, that in the large proclamation there was a studied endeavour to persuade a large portion of the people that they had no religious feuds to apprehend from the establishment of a new government. But the manifesto upon which I am now about animadverting has taken a somewhat different course, and has revived religious distinctions at the very moment in which it expresses a desire to extinguish them.

“Orangemen, add not to the catalogue ofyour follies and crimes, already have you been duped to the ruin of the country, in the legislative union with its tyrant; attempt not an opposition; return from the paths of delusion; return to the arms of your countrymen, who will receive and hail your repentance. Countrymen of all descriptions, let us act with union and concert; all sects, Catholic, Protestant, Presbyterian, are equal and indiscriminately embraced in the benevolence of our object?” I will not apply to this passage all the observations that press upon my mind, because I am sincerely desirous that one feeling and one spirit should animate us all. I cannot but lament that there should be so many sectaries in religion, but trust in God there will be found amongst us but one political faith. But this manifesto is equally unfortunate in every instance in which it prescribes moderation. Attend to the advice by which it instigates the citizens of Dublin: “In a city each street becomes a defile and each house a battery; impede the march of your oppressors, charge them with the arms of the brave, the pike, and from the windows and roofs hurl stones, bricks, bottles, and all other convenient implements, on the heads of the satellites of your tyrant, the mercenary, the sanguinary soldiery of England.”

Having thus roused them, it throws in a few words of composure, “repress, prevent, and discourage excesses, pillage, and intoxication;” and to ensure that calmness of mind which is so necessary to qualify them for the adoptionof this salutary advice, it desires that they will “remember against whom they fight, their oppressors for 600 years: remember their massacres, their tortures; remember your murdered friends, your burned houses, your violated females.” Thus affecting to recommend moderation, every expedient is resorted to, which could tend to inflame sanguinary men to the commission of sanguinary deeds.

Gentlemen, you must by this time be somewhat anxious to know the progress of the general, who escaped the memorable action which was to be fought, and the first place in which I am enabled to introduce him to you, is at the house of one Doyle, who resides near the Wicklow mountains. There the general and his companions took refuge, at the commencement of the following week: they arrived there at a late hour; the general was still dressed in his full uniform, with suitable lace and epaulets, and a military cocked hat, with a conspicuous feather. Two other persons were also decorated in green and gold. From thence they proceeded to the house of Mrs. Bagnall, and returned to the city of Dublin. What became of the other persons is foreign to the present inquiry, but we trace the prisoner from those mountains to the same house in Harold’s Cross, in which he formerly resided, and assuming the old name of Hewit; he arrived there the Saturday after the rebellion.

Having remained a month in this concealment, information was had, and Major Sirr, to whose activity and intrepidity the loyal citizensof Dublin are under much obligation, did confer an additional, and a greater one, by the zealous discharge of his duty on this occasion. He came by surprise on the house, having sent a countryman to give a single rap, and the door being, opened, the Major rushed in, and caught Mrs. Palmer and the prisoner sitting down to dinner; the former withdrew, and the Major immediately asked the prisoner his name, and, as if he found a gratification in assuming a variety of titles, he said his name was Cunningham, that he had that day arrived in the house, having been upon a visit with some friends in the neighbourhood; the Major then left him in charge of another person, and went to inquire of Mrs. Palmer concerning him; she said he was a very proper young man of the name of Hewit, and that he had been in her house about a month: the Major at this moment heard a noise, and he found that the prisoner was endeavouring to make his escape, and having been struck with a pistol by the person who had the custody of him, he was by that means detained; immediately further assistance was called in from a neighbouring guard-house, and an additional sentry was put upon him. The Major then again proceeded further to interrogate Mrs. Palmer, when the prisoner made another effort, got into the garden through the parlour window, but was at length overtaken by the Major, who at the peril of his own life, fortunately secured him. When the Major apologized for the roughness with which he was obliged to treat him, the prisoner replied, “all is fair in war.”

Gentlemen, you have the life of a fellow subject in your hands, and by the benignity of our laws, he is presumed to be an innocent man until your verdict shall find him guilty.

If upon the evidence you shall be so satisfied that this man is guilty, you must discharge your duty to your king, your country, and to your God. If, on the other hand, nothing shall appear sufficient to affect him, we shall acknowledge that we have grievously offended him, and will heartily participate in the common joy that must result from the acquittal of an honest man.

Joseph Rawlins, Esq. being sworn, desposed to a knowledge of the prisoner, and recollected having been in his company some time in the month of December last, when he understood from him that he had been to see his brother at Brussels. On his cross-examination, the witness said, that in conversations with him on the subject of continental politics, the prisoner avowed that the inhabitants of the Austrian Netherlands execrated Buonaparte’s government; and from the whole of the prisoner’s conversation, the witness had reason to believe, that he highly condemned Buonaparte’s conduct and government.

George Tyrrel, an attorney, proved the execution, in the month of June last, of the leaseof a house in Butterfield-lane, Rathfarnham, from Michael Frayne to the prisoner, who assumed on the occasion, the name of Ellis. Mr. Tyrrel was one of the subscribing witnesses to the lease, and a person named Dowdall was the other.

Michael Frayne, who leased the above-mentioned house to the prisoner, proved also to that fact, and that he gave him possession of it on the 23d of April preceding—that the prisoner and Dowdall lived there in the most sequestered manner, and apparently anxious of concealment.

John Fleming, a native of the county Kildare, sworn:—deposed, that on the 23d of July, and for the year previous thereto, he had been hostler at White Bull Inn, Thomas Street, kept by a person named Dillon. The house was convenient to Marshal-lane, where the rebel depot was, and to which the witness had free and constant access, having been in the confidence of the conspirators, and employed to bring them ammunition and other things. He saw the persons there making pike-handles, and heading them with the iron part; he also saw the blunderbusses, firelocks, and pistols in the depot, and saw ball-cartridges making there.—Here the witness identified the prisoner at the bar, whom he saw in the depot for the first time, on the Tuesday morning after the explosion in Patrick-street—(that explosion took place on Saturday, the 16th of July.) The witness had opened the gate of the Inn yard, which opened into Marshal-lane, to let outQuigley, when he saw the prisoner, accompanied by a person of the name of Palmer; the latter got some sacks from the witness to convey ammunition to the stores, and the prisoner went into the depot, where he continued almost constantly until the evening of the 23d July, directing the preparations for the insurrection, and having the chief authority. He heard the prisoner read a little sketch, as the witness called it, purporting that every officer, non-commissioned officer and private, should have equally every thing they got, and have the same laws as in France. Being asked what it was they were to share, the prisoner replied, “what they got when they took Ireland or Dublin.” He saw green uniform jackets making in the depot by different tailors, one of whom was named Colgan. He saw one uniform in particular, a green coat, laced on the sleeves and skirts, &c. and gold epaulets, like a general’s dress. He saw the prisoner take it out of a desk one day and shew it to all present (here the witness identified the desk, which was in court,) he also saw the prisoner, at different times, take out papers, and put papers back into the desk; there was none other in the store. Quigley used, also, sometimes to go to the desk. On the evening of the 23d of July, witness saw the prisoner dressed in the uniform above described with white waistcoat and pantaloons, new boots and cocked hat, and white feather. He had also a sash on him, and was armed with a sword and case of pistols. The prisoner called for a big coat, but he didnot get it, to disguise his uniform, as he said, until he went to the party that were to attack the castle. Quigley and a person named Stafford had uniforms like that of Emmet, but had only one epaulet. Quigley had a white feather, and Stafford a green one. Stafford was a baker in Thomas-street. About 9 o’clock the prisoner drew his sword, and called out to “come on, my boys;” he sallied out of the depot, accompanied by Quigley and Stafford, and about fifty men, as well as he could judge, armed with pikes, blunderbusses, pistols, &c. They entered Dirty-lane, and from thence into Thomas-street. The prisoner was in the centre of the party. They began to fire in Dirty-lane, and also when they got into Thomas-street. The witness was also with the party. The prisoner went into the stores by the name of Ellis. He was considered by all of them as the general and head of the business; the witness heard him called by the title of general. In and out of the depot, it was said that they were preparing to assist the French when they should land. Quigley went into the depot by the name of Graham.

Terrence Colgan, the tailor named in the foregoing evidence, sworn. Deposed, that on the Sunday previous to the insurrection, he came to town from Lucan, where he lived, and having met with a friend, they went to Dillon’s, the White Bull Inn, in Thomas-street, and drank, until the witness, overcome with liquor, fell asleep, when he was conveyed in this state, of insensibility into the depot, in Marshal-lane,and when he awoke the next morning, he was set to work making green jackets and white pantaloons. He saw the prisoner there, by whose directions everything was done, and who, he understood, was the chief. He recollected seeing the last witness frequently in the depot while he was there. He also saw the prisoner often at the desk writing. The witness corroborated the general preparations of arms, ammunition, &c. for the insurrection.

Patrick Farrel sworn. Deposed, that as he was passing through Marshal-lane, between the hours of nine and ten o’clock on the evening of Friday, the 22d of July, he stopped before the malt stores, or depot, on hearing a noise therein, which surprised him, as he considered it a waste house. Immediately the door opened, and a man came forth, who caught him, and asked him what he was doing there? The witness was then brought into the depot, and again asked what brought him there, or had he ever been there before? He said he had not. They asked him if he knew Graham? He replied he did not. One of the persons then said the witness was a spy, and called out to “drop him immediately,” by which the witness understood they meant to shoot him. They brought him up stairs, and after some consultation, they agreed to wait for some person to come in, who would decide what should be done with him. That person having arrived, he asked the witness if he knew Graham? He replied that he did not. A light was brought in at the same time, and the witness havinglooked about, was asked if he knew any one there? He replied he knew Quigley. He was asked where? He replied that he knew him five or six years ago in the College of Maynooth, as a bricklayer or mason. The witness understood that Quigley was the person who went by the name of Graham. Here the witness identified the prisoner as the person who came in and decided he should not be killed, but he should be taken care of, and not let out. The witness was detained there that night and the whole of the next day, Saturday, the 23rd, and was made to assist at the different kinds of work.

He assisted in taking boards off a car; the boards, he said, were made into cases, and pikes put into them. These cases the witness described as being made of the outside slabs of a long beam, taken off about an inch or more thick—four or five inches at each end of the beam was cut off, the slabs were nailed together, and these pieces put in at the ends, so that it appeared like a rough plank or beam of timber. He saw several such cases filled with pikes sent out. The witness stated that on the evening of the 23rd, he saw three men dressed in green uniforms, richly laced; one of whom was the prisoner, who wore two gold epaulets, but the other two only one each. The prisoner had also a cocked hat, sword, and pistols. When the witness was helping out one of the beams prepared for explosion, he contrived to effect his escape.

On his cross-examination, in which the interrogatorieswere suggested by the prisoner, the only thing remarkable in the evidence of the witness was, that he heard a printed paper read, part of which was, that nineteen counties were ready to rise at the same time, to second the attempt in Dublin. The witness also heard them say, “that they had no idea as to French relief, but would make it good themselves.” In answer to a question from the Court, the witness said that he gave information of the circumstance deposed in his evidence, the next morning, to Mr. Ormsby in Thomas-street, to whom he was Steward.

Serjeant Thomas Rice proved the Proclamation of the Provisional Government, found in the depot.

Colonel Spencer Thomas Vassal being sworn, deposed that he was field officer of the day on the 23rd of July; that having gone to the depot in Marshal-lane, he found there several small proclamations addressed to the citizens of Dublin, and which were quite wet. He identified one of them. The witness also identified the desk which the prisoner used in the depot. Having remained about a quarter of an hour in the depot, he committed to Major Greeville the care of its contents.

Questioned by the Court. The witness said that he visited the depot between three and four o’clock on Sunday morning, it having been much advanced in daylight before he was suffered to go his rounds.

Alderman Frederick Darley sworn. Proved having found in the depot a paper directed to“Robert Ellis, Butterfield.” Also a paper entitled a “Treatise on the Art of War.” The latter had been handed, at the time, to Capt. Evelyn.

Captain Henry Evelyn sworn. Deposed having been at the rebel depot on the morning of Sunday, the 23d of July, to see the things removed to the barracks, and that he found a paper there, which, being shewn to him, he identified. This paper was a manuscript draft of the greater part of the Proclamation of the Provisional Government, altered and interlined in a great many places.

Robert Lindsay, a soldier, and Michael Clement Frayne, quarter-master-sergeant of the 38th regiment, proved the conveyance of the desk (then in court) to the barracks; and the latter identified a letter which he found therein. The letter was signed, “Thomas Addis Emmet,” and directed to “Mrs. Emmet, Miltown, Dublin,” and began with, “My dearest Robert.” It bore a foreign post-mark.

Edward Wilson, Esq. recollected the explosion of gunpowder which took place in Patrick street, previous to the 23rd of July: it took place on the 16th. He went there and found an apparatus for making gunpowder—was certain that it was gunpowder exploded. Proved the existence of a rebellious insurrection, as did also Lieut. Brady. The latter added, that on examination of the pikes which he found in Thomas-street, four were stained with blood on the iron part, and on one or two of them, the blood extended half way up the handle.

John Doyle, a farmer, being sworn, deposed to the following effect:—That on the morning of the 26th of July last, about two o’clock, a party of people came to his house at Ballymace, in the parish of Tallaght, seven miles from Dublin. He had been after drinking, and was heavy asleep; they came to his bedside, and stirred and called him, but he did not awake at once; when he did, and looked up, he lay closer than before: they desired him to take some spirits, which he refused; they then moved him to the middle of the bed and two of them lay down, one on each side of him. One of them said, “You have a French General and a French Colonel beside you, what you never had before.” For some hours the witness lay between asleep and awake. When he found his companions asleep, he stole out of the bed, and found in the room some blunderbusses, a gun, and some pistols. The number of blunderbusses he believed were equal to the number of persons, who on being collected at breakfast, amounted to fourteen. Here he identified the prisoner as one of those who were in bed with him.

The witness then further stated that the prisoner, on going away in the evening, put on a coat with a great deal of lace and tassels, (as he expressed it.) There was another person in a similar dress; they wore, on their departure, great coats over these. The party left his house between eight and nine o’clock in the evening, and proceeded up the hill. The next morning, the witness found, under thetable on which they breakfasted, one of the small printed proclamations, which he gave to John Robinson, the barony constable.

Rose Bagnal, residing at Ballynascorney, about a mile further up the hill from Doyle’s, proved that a party of men, fifteen in number, and whom she described similar to that of the preceding witness, came to her house on the night of the Tuesday immediately after the insurrection. Three of them wore green clothes, ornamented with something yellow—she was so frightened she could not distinguish exactly. One of them was called a general. She was not enabled to identify any of them. They left her house about 9 o’clock on the following night.

John Robinson, constable of the barony of Upper Cross, corroborated the testimony of the witness Doyle, relative to the small proclamation, which he identified.

Joseph Palmer sworn. Deposed that he was clerk to Mr. Colville, and lodged at his mother’s house, Harold’s Cross. He recollected the apprehension of the prisoner, at his mother’s house, by Major Sirr, and that he did lodge there the preceding spring, at which time, and when he was arrested, he went by the name of Hewit. The prisoner came to lodge there the second time about three weeks before this last time, and was habited in a brown coat, white waistcoat, white pantaloons, Hessian boots, and a black frock. Those who visited the prisoner enquired for him by the name of Hewit. At the time he was arrested there was a label onthe door of the house, expressive of its inhabitants. It was written by the witness, but the name of the prisoner was omitted, at his request because he said he was afraid government would take him up.

The prisoner, in different conversations with the witness, explained why he feared to be taken up. He acknowledged that he had been in Thomas-street, on the night of the 23d of July, and described the dress he wore on that occasion, part of which were the waistcoat, pantaloons, and boots already mentioned, and particularly his coat, which he said was a very handsome uniform. The prisoner had also a conversation with the witness about a magazine, and expressed much regret at the loss of the powder in the depot. The proclamations were likewise mentioned by the prisoner, and he planned a mode of escape, in the event of any attempt to arrest him, by going through the parlour window into the back house, and from thence into the fields. Here the witness was shown a paper, found upon a chair in the room in which the prisoner lodged, and asked if he knew whose hand-writing it was? He replied that he did not know, but was certain that it had not been written by any of his family, and that there was no lodger in the house besides the prisoner.

The examination of this witness being closed, extracts from the proclamation, (vide the Attorney General’s statement) addressed to the Citizens of Dublin, were read.

Major Henry Charles Sirr, examined. Deposedto the arrest of the prisoner as follows: “I went on the 25th of August, to the house of one Palmer. I had heard there was a stranger in the back parlour. I rode, accompanied by a man on foot: I desired the man to knock at the door—he did, and it was opened by a girl. I alighted, and ran in directly to the back parlour—I saw the prisoner sitting at dinner; the woman of the house was there, and the girl who opened the door was the daughter of the woman of the house. I desired them to withdraw. I asked the prisoner his name, he told me his name was Cunningham. I gave him in charge to the man who accompanied me, and went into the next room to ask the woman and her daughter about him; they told me his name was Hewit; I went back and asked him how long he had been there? He said he came that morning. He had attempted to escape before I returned, for he was bloody and the man said he knocked him down with a pistol. I then went to Mrs. Palmer, who said he had lodged there for a month; I then judged he was some person of importance. When I first went in, there was a paper on the chair,[6]which I putinto my pocket; I then went to the canal bridge for a guard, having desired them to bein readiness as I passed; I planted a sentry over him, and desired the non-commissioned officer to surround the house with sentries, while I searched it; I then examined Mrs. Palmer, and took down her account of the prisoner, during which time I heard a noise as if an escape was attempted: I instantly ran to the back part of the house, as the most likely part for him to get out at. I saw him going off, and ordered a sentinel not to fire, and then pursued myself; regardless of my order, the sentinel snapped, but his musket did not go off. I overtook the prisoner and he said, “I surrender.” I searched him, and found some papers upon him.

“On the witness expressing concern at the necessity of the prisoner’s being treated so roughly, he (the prisoner) observed, that “All was fair in war.” The prisoner, when broughtto the castle, acknowledged that his name was Emmet.”

Here the case closed on the part of the crown, and the prisoner having declined to enter into any defence, either by witnesses or his counsel, an argument arose between Mr. McNally and Mr. Plunket, as to the latter’s right to reply to evidence, when no defence had been made. Lord Norbury said, that the counsel for the prisoner could not by their silence preclude the crown from that right, and, therefore, decided in favour of Mr. Plunket.

Mr. Plunket then addressed the court to a considerable length, and spoke to evidence in effect, the same as the Attorney General.

Lord Norbury charged the Jury, minutely recapitulating the whole of the evidence, and explained the law.

The Jury, without leaving the box, pronounced the Prisoner—Guilty.

The judgment of the court having been prayed upon the prisoner, the Clerk of the Crown, in the usual form, asked him what he had to say why sentence of death and execution should not be awarded against him according to law, Mr. Emmet addressed the court as follows.

MR. EMMET’S REPLY.

My Lords,—I am asked, what have I to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced on me, according to law? I have nothing to say that can alter your predetermination, nor that it will become me to say, with any view to the mitigation of that sentence which you are to pronounce, and I must abide by. But I have that to say which interests me more than life, and which you have laboured (as was necessarily your office in the present circumstances of this oppressed country) to destroy—I have much to say, why my reputation should be rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny which has been heaped upon it. I do not imagine that, seated where you are, your minds can be so free from impurity, as to receive the least impression from what I am going to utter. I have no hopes that I can anchor my character in the breasts of a Court constituted and trammelled as this is. I only wish, and it is the utmost I expect, that your Lordships may suffer it to float down your memories untainted by the foul breath of prejudice, until it finds some more hospitable harbour to shelter it from the storm by which it is at present buffeted.

Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty by your tribunal I should bow in silence, and meet the fate that awaits me without a murmur; but the sentence of the law which delivers my body to the executioner,will, through the ministry of that law, labour in its own vindication, to consign my character to obloquy; for there must be guilt somewhere: whether in the sentence of the Court or in the catastrophe, posterity must determine. A man in my situation, my Lords, has not only to encounter the difficulties of fortune, and the force of power over minds which it has corrupted or subjugated, but the difficulties of established prejudice; the man dies, but his memory lives; that mine may not perish—that it may live in the respect of my countrymen—I seize upon this opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the charges alleged against me. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port—when my shade shall have joined the bands of those martyred heroes who have shed their blood on the scaffold and in the field, in defence of their country and of virtue, this is my hope—I wish that my memory and name may animate those who survive me, while I look down with complacency on the destruction of that perfidious government, which upholds its dominion by blasphemy of the Most High; which displays its power over man as over the beasts of the forest; which sets man upon his brother, and lifts his hand in the name of God, against the throat of his fellow, who believes or doubts a little more than the Government standard—a Government steeled to barbarity by the cries of the orphans and the tears of the widows which it has made.

[Here Lord Norbury interrupted Mr. Emmet—saying, that the mean and wicked enthusiastswho felt as he did, were not equal to the accomplishment of their wild design.]

I appeal to the immaculate God—I swear by the throne of Heaven, before which I must shortly appear—by the blood of the murdered patriots who have gone before me, that my conduct has been, through all this peril and through all my purposes, governed only by the convictions which I have uttered, and by no other view than that of their cure, and the emancipation of my country from the superinhuman oppression under which she has so long and too patiently travailed; and I confidently and assuredly hope that, wild and chimerical as it may appear, there is still union and strength in Ireland to accomplish this noblest enterprize.

Of this I speak with the confidence of intimate knowledge, and with the consolation that appertaining to that confidence. Think not, my Lords, I say this for the petty gratification of giving you a transitosy uneasiness; a man who never yet raised his voice to assert a lie, will not hazard his character with posterity by asserting a falsehood on a subject so important to his country, and on an occasion like this. Yes, my Lords, a man who does not wish to have his epitaph written until his country is liberated, will not leave a weapon in the power of envy, nor a pretence to impeach the probity which he means to preserve even in the grave to which tyranny consigns him.

[Here he was again interrupted by the court.]

Again I say, that what I have spoken wasnot intended for your Lordships, whose situation I commiserate rather than envy—my expressions were for my countrymen—if there is a true Irishmen present, let my last words cheer him in the hour of affliction.

[Here he was again interrupted; Lord Norbury said he did not sit there to hear treason.]

I have always understood it to be the duty of a judge, when a prisoner has been convicted, to pronounce the sentence of the law; I have also understood that judges sometimes think it their duty to hear with patience, and to speak with humanity; to exhort the victim of the laws, and to offer, with tender benignity, his opinion of the motives by which he was actuated in the crime of which he was adjudged guilty. That a judge has thought it his duty so to have done, I have no doubt; but where is the boasted freedom of your institutions—where is the vaunted impartiality, clemency, and mildness of your courts of justice, if an unfortunate prisoner, whom your policy, and not your justice, is about to deliver into the hands of the executioner, is not suffered to explain his motives sincerely and truly, and to vindicate the principles by which he was actuated.

My Lords, it may be a part of the system of angry justice to bow a man’s mind by humiliation to the proposed ignominy of the scaffold—but worse to me than the proposed shame, or the scaffold’s terrors, would be the shame of such foul and unfounded imputations as have been laid against me in this court. You, my Lord, are a Judge; I am the supposed culprit,I am a man; you are a man also; by a revolution of power, we might change places, though we never could change characters. If I stand at the bar of this court, and dare not vindicate my character, what a farce is your justice! If I stand at this bar, and dare not vindicate my character, how dare you calumniate it? Does the sentence of death, which your unhallowed policy inflicts upon my body, also condemn my tongue to silence, and my reputation to reproach? Your executioner may abridge the period of my existence, but whilst I exist I shall not forbear to vindicate my character and my motives from your aspersions; and as a man, to whom fame is dearer than life, I will make the last use of that life in doing justice to that reputation which is to live after me, and which is the only legacy I can leave to those I honour and love, and for whom I am proud to perish.

“As men, my Lords, we must appear on the great day at one common tribunal and it will then remain for the Searcher of all hearts to show a collective universe, who was engaged in the most virtuous actions or actuated by the purest motive—my country’s oppressors, or——

[Here he was again interrupted, and told to listen to the sentence of the law.]

“My Lords, will a dying man be denied the legal privilege of exculpating himself, in the eyes of the community, of an undeserved reproach thrown upon him during the trial, by charging him with ambition, and attempting to cast away, for a paltry consideration, the libertiesof his country? Why did your Lordships insult me? or rather, why insult justice, in demanding of me why sentence of death should not be pronounced against me? I know, my Lord, that form prescribes that you should ask the question—the form also implies the right of answering. This, no doubt, may be dispensed with, and so might the whole ceremony of the trial, since sentence was already pronounced at the Castle, before your jury was empanelled. Your Lordships are but the priests of the Oracle, and I submit—but I insist on the whole of the forms.

[Here Mr. Emmet paused, and the Court desired him to proceed.]

“I am charged with being an emissary of France. An emissary of France! and for what end? It is alleged that I wished to sell the independence of my country! and for what end? Was this the object of my ambition? and is this the mode by which a tribunal of justice reconciles contradictions? No! I am no emissary; and my ambition was to hold a place among the deliverers of my country—not in power, nor in profit, but in the glory of the achievement. Sell my country’s independence to France! and for what? Was it for a change of masters? No, but for ambition! O, my country! was it personal ambition that could influence me? Had it been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my education and fortune—by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed myself among the proudest of my country’s oppressors? My country was my idol; toit I sacrificed every selfish—every endearing sentiment—and for it I now offer up my life. O, God! No! my Lord; I acted as an Irishman, determined on delivering my country from the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting tyranny, and the more galling yoke of a domestic faction, which is its joint partner and perpetrator in the patricide, for the ignominy of existing with an exterior of splendour and a conscious depravity; it was the wish of my heart to extricate my country from this doubly-rivetted despotism. I wished to place her independence beyond the reach of any power on earth—I wished to exalt her to that proud station in the world.

“Connection with France was, indeed, intended—but only as far as mutual interest would sanction or require. Were they to assume any authority inconsistent with the purest independence, it would be the signal for their destruction; we sought aid, and we sought it as we had assurance we should obtain it—as auxiliaries in war, and allies in peace.

“Were the French to come as invaders or enemies, uninvited by the wishes of the people, I should oppose them to the utmost of my strength. Yes, my countrymen, I would meet them on the beach, with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other; I would meet them with all the destructive fury of war, and I would animate my countrymen to immolate them in their boats, before they had contaminated the soil of my country. If they succeeded in landing, and if forced to retire before superior discipline, I would dispute every inchof ground, burn every blade of grass before them, and the last entrenchment of liberty should be my grave. What I could not do myself, if I should fall, I would leave as a last charge to my countrymen to accomplish, because I should feel conscious that life, any more than death, is unprofitable when a foreign nation holds my country in subjection.

“But it was not as an enemy that the succours of France were to land. I looked, indeed, for the assistance of France; but I wished to prove to France and to the world, that Irishmen deserved to be assisted; that they were indignant at slavery, and ready to assert the independence and liberty of their country.

“I wished to procure for my country the guarantee which Washington procured for America. To procure an aid which, by its example, would be as important as its valour—disciplined, gallant, pregnant with science and experience; who would preserve the good, and polish the rough points of our character; they would come to us as strangers and leave us as friends, after sharing our perils and elevating our destiny. These were my objects—not to receive new taskmakers, but to expel old tyrants; these were my views, and these only became Irishmen. It was for these ends I sought aid from France, because France, even as an enemy, could not be more implacable than the enemy already in the bosom of my country.

[Here he was interrupted by the Court.]

“I have been charged with that importance in the efforts to emancipate my country, as tobe considered the keystone of the combination of Irishmen, or as your Lordship expressed it, “the life and blood of the conspiracy.” You do me honour over much; you have given to the subaltern all the credit of a superior. There are men engaged in this conspiracy, who are not only superior to me, but even to your own conceptions of yourself my Lord, before the splendour of whose genius and virtues I should bow with respectful deference, and who would think themselves dishonoured to be called your friend, and who would not disgrace themselves by shaking your blood-stained hand.

[Here he was again interrupted.]

“What, my Lord! shall you tell me, on the passage to that scaffold, which that tyranny (of which you are only the intermediary executioner) has erected for my murder, that I am accountable for all the blood that has and will be shed in this struggle of the oppressed against the oppressor—shall you tell me this, and shall I be so very a slave as not to repel it?

“I do not fear to approach the Omnipotent Judge, to answer for the conduct of my whole life, and am I to be appalled and falsified by a mere remnant of mortality here! By you, too, who, if it were possible to collect all the innocent blood that you have caused to be shed, in your unhallowed ministry, into one great reservoir, your Lordship might swim in it.

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