Chapter XXVI: Part 26

The defence set up was, that the deceased had been guilty of mutiny, and that the punishment was not so severe as reported, but that the deceased was suffered to drink strong spirits when in the hospital. Several witnesses were called on the part of the prisoner, particularly Mrs. Lacy, widow of the captain who succeeded Mr. Wall, and Mary Falkner, who not only agreed with him in the outrageous conduct of the men, and the violent language they used, but both positively swore that Lewis, the first witness against the prisoner, was not the orderly serjeant on that day.--John Falkner, Peter Williams, and some others who were present, were also examined, and their testimony went in full corroboration of the account given by the prisoner, and so far went to his justification; but in many material points it was in direct contradiction to the evidence which had been given by the witnesses for the Crown.

The jury, after being out of court some time, pronounced a verdict of "guilty." The Recorder then proceeded to pass sentence of death upon the prisoner; that he be executed the following morning, and that his body be afterwards delivered to be anatomized according to the statute. Mr. Wall seemed sensibly affected by the sentence, but said nothing more than to request the court would allow him a little time to prepare himself for death. On the 21st of January, a respite was sent from Lord Pelham's office, deferring his execution until the 25th, and on the 24th, he was further respited till the 28th. During the time of his confinement, previous to trial, he occupied the apartment which was formerly the residence of Mr. Ridgway, the bookseller. His wife lived with him for the last fortnight; although he was allowed two hours a-day, from twelve to two, to walk in the yard, he did not once embrace this indulgence; and during his whole confinement, he never went out of his room, except into the lobby to consult his counsel. He lived well, and was at times very facetious, easy in his manners, and pleasant in conversation; but during the night he frequently sat up in his bed and sang psalms, overheard by his fellow-prisoner. He had not many visitors, and his only attendant was a prisoner, who was appointed for that purpose by the turnkey.

After trial he did not return to his old apartment, but was conducted to a cell; and he was so far favoured as not to have irons put on, but a person was employed as a guard to watch him during the night to prevent him doing violence to himself. On his return from court, on the day of trial, his bed was brought to him in the cell, on which he threw himself in an agony of mind, saying it was his intention not to rise until they called him on the fatal morning.

The sheriffs were particularly pointed and precise in their orders, with respect to confining him to the usual diet of bread and water, preparatory to the awful event, and this order was scrupulously fulfilled. The prisoner, during a part of the night, slept, owing to fatigue and perturbation of mind. The next morning his wife applied, but was refused admittance without an order from one of the sheriffs. She applied to Mr. Sheriff Cox, who attended her to the prison.

From the time of the first respite, until twelve o'clock on Wednesday night, he did not cease to entertain hopes of his safety. The interest made to save him was very great. The whole of Wednesday occupied the great law officers; the judges met at the chancellor's in the afternoon, and the conference which then took place lasted upwards of three hours.

All hopes were, however, vain, and at a little after four o'clock, on Thursday the 28th, the scaffold began to be erected by torch-light.

The prisoner had had an affecting interview with his wife, the night before, from whom he was painfully separated about eleven o'clock. Mrs. Wall then reluctantly departed, overwhelmed with grief, and bathed with tears; while the unfortunate husband declared that he could now, with Christian fortitude, submit to his unhappy fate.

During the greater part of the night he slept but little; but at about four o'clock in the morning his sleep was observed to become sound, and, according to the best recollection of his attendant, he continued in this sleep rather more than an hour; so that he could not have heard the fatal machine in its passage to the Debtors'-door. His voice preserved its usual strength and tone to the end; and, though very particular in his questions respecting the machinery in every part, yet he spoke of his approaching execution and death with perfect calmness. At half after six in the morning, his prison attendant, going to his cell, was asked by him "whether the noise he heard was not that of erecting his scaffold?" but he was humanely answered in the negative.

The Ordinary, Dr. Ford, soon after entered, when the prisoner devoutly joined him for some time in prayer. They then passed on to an ante room, when the governor asked "whether it was a fine morning?" On being answered in the affirmative, he said, "The time hangs heavily: I am anxious for the close of this scene." One of the officers then proceeded to bind his arms with a cord, for which he extended them out firmly; but recollecting himself, he said, "I beg your pardon a moment;" and putting his hand in his pocket, he drew out two white handkerchiefs, one of which he bound over his temples so as nearly to conceal his eyes, over which he placed a white cap, and then put on a round hat; the other handkerchief he kept between his hands. He then observed, "the cord cuts me; but it's no matter:" on which Dr. Ford desired it to be loosened, for which the prisoner bowed, and thanked him.

As the clock struck eight, the door was thrown open, and Sheriff Cox and his officers appeared. The governor approaching him, said, "I attend you, sir;" and the procession to the scaffold, over the Debtors'-door, immediately succeeded. He had no sooner ascended it, accompanied by the Ordinary, than three successive shouts from an innumerable populace, the brutal effusion of one common sentiment, evidently deprived him of the small portion of fortitude which he had summoned up. He bowed his head under the extreme pressure of ignominy, when the hangman put the halter over it. This done, Mr. Wall stooped forward and spoke to the Ordinary, who, no doubt at his request, pulled the cap over the lower part of the face, when in an instant, without waiting for any signal, the platform dropped.

From the knot of the rope turning round to the back of the neck, and his legs not being pulled, as at his particular request, he was suspended in convulsive agony for more than a quarter of an hour. After hanging a full hour, his body was cut down, put into a cart, and immediately conveyed to a building in Cow-cross-street to be dissected. He was dressed in a mixed coloured loose coat, with a black collar, swan-down waistcoat, blue pantaloons, and white silk stockings. He appeared a miserable and emaciated object, never having quitted the bed of his cell from the day of condemnation till the morning of his execution.

The body of the unfortunate gentleman was not exposed to public view, as was usual in such cases. Mr. Belfour, secretary to the Surgeons' Company, applied to Lord Kenyon to know whether such an exposure was necessary; and finding that the forms of dissection only were required, the body, after those forms had been complied with, was consigned to the relations of the unhappy man, upon their paying fifty guineas to the Philanthropic Society.

JOHN TERRY AND JOSEPH HEALD.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

These villains were executed for the wilful murder of a poor old woman, named Elizabeth Smith, aged sixty-seven years; their object being to possess themselves of a small sum of money, known to have been recently before transmitted to her by her son.

Their trial came on at York, on Friday the 18th of March 1803; and the indictment alleged the murder to have been committed at Flaminshaw, near Wakefield, in the same county.

It appeared that the deceased was a respectable woman, who obtained an humble living by disposing of the produce of two cows which she possessed. Misfortune, however, fell upon her, and her cows died; but through the instrumentality of her neighbours a subscription was raised for her, by which one cow was purchased. Her son, who was engaged in a decent way of life at Leeds, sent her eighteen guineas to buy another; and this was the bait by which the wretched men, whose crime we are about to describe, were allured. On the morning of the 14th of January 1803, the poor old woman was found to have been murdered in her own house, under circumstances of very great barbarity; and suspicion having fallen upon the prisoners, they were taken into custody. Terry then, driven by remorse, made a confession to Shaw and Linley, the constables by whom he had been secured. He said that he and Heald, having determined upon the perpetration of the murder, agreed to meet outside the house of the deceased at about one o'clock on the morning of the 14th of January. They met in accordance with their appointment; and Heald having first entered the house, by making his way through the first-floor window, with his (Terry's) assistance, he directly afterwards placed something against the side of the house by means of which he was enabled to follow him. On their gaining the room of Mrs. Smith, they found that she had been alarmed by the noise which they had made, and was getting up; but they directly attacked her, and knocked her down; and when Heald had struck her several blows, he took out a razor. The deceased was now still on the ground, and he (Terry) held her head, while Heald cut her throat; but at length his fingers being wounded, he called to his companion to desist, as they had done enough, and proposed that they should go and see if all was safe. He then ran down stairs, but returning in a few moments, he found that Heald had got the old woman into another room, and was beating her over the head with a pair of tongs. Upon seeing him, he struck her no more, and then they directly secured the money and made off. From the evidence of the constables it further appeared that Heald, on hearing the confession of the other prisoner, upbraided him for deceiving him, and added, "Thou knowest I was not with thee." Terry answered, "Thou knowest there is a God above, who knows all;" and upon Heald remarking, "Thou hadst better lay it upon somebody else," he replied, "I will not hang an innocent man; thou knowest there were but us two, and God for our witness."

This, together with some other circumstances of suspicion, proved against the two prisoners, constituted the evidence against them; and the jury returned a verdict of Guilty. Sentence of death was then immediately

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passed, and was ordered to be put into execution on the following Monday; but in the mean time a most extraordinary change took place in the demeanour of the prisoner Terry.

Upon his being attended by Mr. Brown, the Ordinary, he asserted that Heald was not guilty, and that if he were hanged, he should be guilty of two murders instead of only one. He entreated that the clergyman would endeavour to procure the respite of his fellow-prisoner, and declared that he could not bear to be hanged with an innocent man. The whole of the circumstances were in consequence submitted to the consideration of the learned judge; and every measure of precaution was instantly taken by that learned individual to prevent the occurrence of an event which might deprive an innocent person of life; but as it was found that Heald made no attempt to join in the protestations of his companion, and further that the whole of Terry's conduct appeared to arise from a desire only that the execution should be respited, and that his declarations were contradictory and evidently devoid of truth, the law was ordered to take its course.

On the way from his cell to the scaffold Terry appeared to be in the highest state of excitement; and upon his appearance on the platform, he exhibited a most extraordinary degree of stubbornness. He shouted to the mob assembled, that they were going to hang an innocent man, and even made an effort to escape, by jumping from the ladder placed against the gallows, and which he was only prevented from doing by the clergyman, who seized him by the collar. He then renewed his protestations of his own guilt, and the innocence of his companion; and in spite of the entreaties of the clergyman, and of Heald, that he would allow him the benefit of the prayers, he continued to make the most clamorous resistance to the execution of the sentence. By the united exertions of five men, he was at length dragged to the drop, and the rope was forced over his head; but in his efforts he tore off the cap; and at the moment at which the platform sunk, he made a spring, and throwing himself towards the side of the gallows, got his foot upon the beam, and caught the corner-post with his arm. In this dreadful situation he supported himself for about a minute, when he was forced off by the executioner, and then, with his face uncovered, he was left suspended. In a few moments both he and his companion in crime were lifeless.

ROBERT SMITH.

EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.

This singular robber was a Scotchman, and one of those adventurers who, ingenious in wickedness, devise new plans of depredation, and make the industrious, whose hard earnings they enjoy, the chief objects of their prey.

The mode of robbery which this man adopted, was that of employing a hackney-coach to drive him to some outlet, and then robbing the coachman in the first lonesome place he came to; in which for some time he was very successful. This trade he commenced early in the month of March, 1803, when, being genteelly dressed, at night about ten o'clock, he hired a hackney-coach at Charing-cross, and ordered the coachman to drive to St. John's Farm, near the one mile-stone on the Edgeware-road. When the coach got to the top of the lane leading to St. John's Farm, Smith pulled the string, and told the coachman to let him get out, for he had passed the house he wanted to go to; upon which the coachman got off his box, and let him out of the coach. Smith then asking what his fare was, he told him, five shillings and sixpence; when he put his hand into a side-pocket, pulled out a pistol, and swore that he would immediately shoot him if he did not deliver his money. The coachman complied; and upon his demanding his watch, delivered that up also; and the robber succeeded in making his escape across the fields.

On Monday the 6th of March, at about eleven o'clock at night, Smith hired another coach, and ordered the driver to proceed to St. George's-row, on the Uxbridge-road. Upon his arrival at the place of his destination, he demanded the coachman's money and watch with the most horrid imprecations; and on some hesitation being shown to comply with his request, he produced a pistol and a tuck-stick, with the latter of which he wounded the driver in the side. Two seven-shilling pieces, and eight and sixpence in silver, were then handed over to him, and he decamped, threatening the coachman with instant death in case of his attempting to pursue him.

His career of guilt, however, was destined soon to close; for being met in King's-road, Chelsea, by a patrole named Jones, on Sunday night, the 20th of March, under suspicious circumstances, he was taken into custody, and a pistol and sword-stick were found in his possession. Information of his capture being published, on the morning of his examination at Bow-street, he was instantly recognised by Jones and Treadwell, the two coachmen, his robberies upon whom we have described; and further proof of his identity in the former case was found in a duplicate which was taken from his pocket, referring to the pawning of the watch of the prosecutor.

Three other charges of a similar character were subsequently preferred against him by other coachmen, whom he had induced to convey him to unfrequented places in the vicinity of London; and a fourth case of robbery on the highway was proved by John Chilton, a porter at Messrs. Spode's Staffordshire warehouse, whom he had met at Bayswater, and whom, after having maltreated and wounded, he had robbed of three shillings and sixpence.

On his trial the prisoner was recognised as a discharged artillery-man, and was identified by Treadwell, one of his prosecutors, as having been his fellow-prisoner in the King's Bench; and he was found guilty, and sentenced to death.

He was hanged at the Old Bailey in the month of June 1803, apparently fully sensible of the enormity of the crimes which he had committed.

GEORGE FOSTER.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE AND CHILD.

The conviction of this wretched man was founded entirely upon circumstantial evidence.

He was indicted on the 14th January, 1803, at the Old Bailey, for the wilful murder of his wife and child.

From the testimony of the witnesses called in support of the case for the prosecution, it appeared, that the prisoner lived in a place called North row, Grosvenor-square, and that his wife and child lived with the mother of the former in Old Boswell-court, but were in the habit of going to the prisoner's lodgings to sleep, every Saturday night. On the 4th December, in compliance with this custom, his wife quitted her mother's house with the child, and was never more seen by her until the Wednesday following, when her body was picked up in the Paddington Canal, near the Mitre Tavern, at a distance of about two miles from Paddington. Inquiries were subsequently made, the result of which proved, that the prisoner had been seen with his wife at the Mitre, as late as half-past four o'clock on the evening of the 5th December, and that then they went away together, walking by the side of the canal towards London. The prisoner was met in town, by an acquaintance, at about six o'clock; but no suspicion was entertained until the discovery of the body. The prisoner was then taken into custody, when he declared that immediately on his leaving the Mitre, he had quitted his wife, and had gone across the fields as far as Whetstone, on his way to Barnet to see two of his children, who were in the workhouse there; but that on his arrival there, it was so dark that he returned to London at about eight o'clock, but that he never saw his wife again.

The learned judge, in summing up the case to the jury, remarked to them that the prisoner's story was utterly at variance and inconsistent with the evidence adduced; and a verdict of Guilty was returned, and the prisoner was sentenced to death.

He subsequently confessed the justice of his conviction and punishment; and admitted that he had conducted his wife twice to the same spot with the same object, before he could summon up courage to destroy her. He assigned no reason for the diabolical deed, except that he had taken an unaccountable dislike for her, and did not know how otherwise to rid himself of her.

He was executed at the Old Bailey, on the 18th January, 1803.

After he had hung the usual time, his body was cut down and conveyed to a house not far distant, where it was subjected to the Galvanic process, by Professor Aldini, under the inspection of Mr. Keate, Mr. Carpue, and other medical gentlemen. M. Aldini, who was the nephew of the discoverer of this most interesting science, showed the powers of Galvanism to be far superior to those of any other stimulant. On the first application of the process to the face, the jaw of the deceased criminal began to quiver, and the adjoining muscles were horribly contorted, and one eye actually opened. In the subsequent part of the process, the right hand was raised and clenched, and the legs and thighs were set in motion. Mr. Pass, the beadle of the Surgeons' Company, being officially present during the time of these extraordinary experiments, was so alarmed, that on his going home he died from fright.

An experiment of another description was made on a convict, named Patrick Redmond, who was hanged for a street-robbery, on the 24th of February, 1767, in order to bring him to life. It appears that the sufferer had hung twenty-eight minutes, when the mob rescued the body, and carried it to an appointed place, where a surgeon was in attendance to try the experiment of _bronchotomy_, which is an incision in the windpipe, and which, in less than six hours, produced the desired effect. A collection was made for the poor fellow, and interest made to obtain his pardon, for it will be remembered that the law says the condemned shall _hang until he is dead_; consequently, men who, like Redmond, recovered, are liable to be again hanged up until they are dead.

ROBERT EMMET.

EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.

This enthusiast was the son of Dr. Emmet, a man of good family, and possessed of considerable wealth; but who, having imbibed opinions favourable to republicanism, took care to instil them into his children. His eldest son was implicated in the Irish rebellion of 1798, and escaped with his life upon the terms offered to Arthur O'Connor, Dr. M'Nevin, and others, and accepted by them, and, like them, became an exile in a foreign land.

The hero of the present sketch was intended for the Irish Bar, and received a most liberal education. In Trinity College he became conspicuous, not only for his abilities, but for his display of eloquence in the "Historical Debating Society," a school which matured the talents of Bushe, Burrows, and several other members of the Irish Bar. Young Emmet, however, wanted discretion; and having too often avowed his political principles, a prosecution was threatened, to avoid which he precipitately fled to France, where his republican opinions were confirmed.

In 1803 he returned to Dublin, not being then more than twenty-four years of age, and found himself in possession of three thousand five hundred pounds, left him by his father, then recently deceased. With this money, and the talents and connexions which he possessed, he might easily have established his own independence; but the sober business of life had no attractions for him; he aspired to greater fame, and resolved to attempt the separation of his country from England.

Wild and extravagant as the scheme was, he entered seriously upon it, and easily found abettors among those who had escaped the angry vengeance of 1798. Having procured several associates, he took a house in Patrick-street, and converted it into a rebel depôt for powder, guns, swords, pikes, &c. In the purchase and preparation of these he expended upwards of one thousand pounds; but before the plan of insurrection was ripe, the powder in the magazine, through accident, ignited, and the whole depôt was blown into the air. Such, however, was the fidelity of Emmet's partisans, that no discovery took place, further than that caused by the explosion; and the government, who ordered the guns to be brought to the Castle, remained ignorant of the purpose for which those destructive implements were provided.

A mind so sanguine as that of Emmet was not to be damped by an accidental disappointment: he collected his partisans, took another house in a lane in Thomas-street, and again commenced preparations for a popular rebellion. The ramifications of treason were easily extended through Ireland, where the discontent of the Catholics induced them to join in any extravagant scheme which promised them redress of grievances. Emmet had correspondents in every county; and the 23rd of July 1803 was the day appointed for a general rising, the signal of which was to be an attack upon Dublin.

The plan of surprising the metropolis was admirably adapted for its sanguinary purpose; but fortunately several disappointments took place, and Emmet was unable to proceed as he intended. In the confusion of such a moment the rebels deceived one another, and several hundred men, who came in from the country, returned home, being told that the _rising_ was postponed, while those who remained were crowded into the depôt, and impeded the preparations. It was too late, however, to retract, or alter the intended movement, as Emmet expected the whole country to rise on that night. He therefore made the desperate attempt, and, with eighty followers, sallied out, at nine o'clock, into Thomas-street, and made towards the Castle, which he intended to surprise.

The experience of a few minutes showed him his madness and folly; for he quickly found himself without authority, in the midst of a ruffianly mob, who would neither obey nor accompany him; but who soon convinced him, that, though cowardly, they were brutal and sanguinary. When he had arrived at the market-house, his followers had diminished to eighteen, and as he was now convinced of his rashness, he prevented the discharge of a rocket which was to be the signal for the outposts to commence hostilities. This act saved the lives of hundreds, for the Wexford men, to the number of three hundred, had assembled on the Coal-quay, and other large bodies had met in the barley-fields behind Mountjoy-square; all of whom, in consequence, escaped uninjured, and were prevented from inflicting injury on others.

The rebel band in Thomas-street, meanwhile, largely increased in numbers; but, being without a leader, they remained confused and inactive. At this moment, however, an act of atrocity was perpetrated, sufficiently serious to exhibit the nature of the design. The coach of the lamented Lord Kilwarden, chief-justice of the Court of King's Bench, containing his lordship, and his nephew and niece, the Rev. Mr. Wolfe, and Miss Wolfe, drove up, and was instantly surrounded. Much confusion prevailed, and his lordship received a deadly stab from the hand of an assassin which eventually deprived him of life: his nephew was dragged from the vehicle and ill-treated; but Miss Wolfe was borne to an opposite house in the arms of a lusty rebel, apparently more humane than his comrades.

The precise particulars of the murder of Lord Kilwarden are not known, and have always been the subject of controversy. By some it is alleged that it was the unpremeditated act of a ferocious rabble; by others, that he was mistaken for another person; but there is another account, which admits the mistake in the first instance, but subjoins other particulars, which appear sufficiently probable. It is related, that, in the year 1795, when his lordship was attorney-general, a number of young men, between the ages of fifteen and twenty years, were indicted for high treason, and upon the day appointed for their trial they appeared at the bar, wearing shirts with tuckers and open collars, in the manner usual with boys. When the chief-justice of the King's Bench appeared in court to proceed with their trial, he remarked, "Well, Mr. Attorney, I suppose you are ready to go on with the trial of these tuckered traitors?" The attorney-general was quite prepared to proceed at once; but, disgusted with the remark which had been made, he said, "No, my lord, I am not ready;" and he added in a lower tone to the prisoners' counsel, "If I have any power to save the lives of these boys, whose extreme youth I did not before observe, that man shall never have the gratification of passing sentence upon one of these _tuckered_ traitors." He performed his promise, and soon afterwards procured pardons for them all, upon condition of their going abroad. One of them, however, refused to accept the pardon upon the condition imposed; and being obstinate, he was tried, convicted, and executed. After his death, it is said that his relatives, readily listening to every misrepresentation which flattered their resentment, became persuaded that the attorney-general had selected him alone to suffer the utmost severity of the laws. One of these, a person named Shannon, was an insurgent of the 23rd July; and when Lord Kilwarden, hearing the popular cry of vengeance, exclaimed from his carriage, "It is I, Kilwarden, chief-justice of the King's Bench," Shannon immediately cried out, "Then you are the man I want," and instantly plunged a pike into his lordship's body.

Whatever may be the truth or falsehood of this story, his lordship's death, there is no doubt, was the effect of the violence of the mob on this occasion; and it appears, that the fatal wound had scarcely been given, when a party of military reaching the spot, the people were put to flight, and his lordship's body rescued from further violence, and conveyed to Werburgh-street.

Major Swan soon after arrived, and in his fury at the attack upon so good a man, exclaimed indignantly, that every rebel taken with arms in his hands ought to be instantly hanged; when his lordship, who still lived, turned round, and impressively exhorted him "to let no man suffer but by the laws of his country." In a few minutes after, this great and good man expired.

For a few hours the rebels continued to skirmish with the military, and several men were killed. By morning, however, all appearance of rebellion had vanished, and large rewards were offered for the apprehension of the leader, Robert Emmet, who had escaped to the county of Wicklow, where he arrived in time to prevent a rising of the assembled rebels.

This unfortunate young man was every way an enthusiast; for his love was as extravagant as his patriotism. It appears that soon after his return from France he visited at the house of Curran, the celebrated Irish barrister, and became attached to that gentleman's youngest daughter. Their affection was mutual, but unknown to Mr. Curran. Upon the failure of the insurrection Emmet might easily have effected his departure from the kingdom, had he attended solely to his safety; but, in the same spirit of romantic enthusiasm which distinguished his short career, he could not submit to leave the country to which he could never more return, without making an effort to have one final interview with the object of his unfortunate attachment, in order to receive her personal forgiveness for what he now considered as the deepest injury. With a view of obtaining this last gratification, he selected a place of concealment midway between Mr. Curran's country-house and Dublin; but before the meeting took place he was arrested. On his person were found some papers, which showed that he corresponded with Mr. Curran's family, in consequence of which that gentleman's house was searched, and the letters there found were produced in evidence against him.

His trial came on, at the sessions-house, Green-street, Dublin, September the 19th, 1803, before Lord Norbury; and the evidence being conclusive, his conviction followed. When called upon in the usual way, before passing sentence, he addressed the Court as follows:--

"I am asked if I have anything to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced upon me. Was I to suffer only death, after being adjudged guilty, I should bow in silence; but a man in my situation has not only to combat with the difficulties of fortune, but also the difficulties of prejudice: the sentence of the law which delivers over his body to the executioner, consigns his character to obloquy. The man dies, but his memory lives; and that mine may not forfeit all claim to the respect of my countrymen, I use this occasion to vindicate myself from some of the charges advanced against me.

"I am charged with being an emissary of France:--'tis false! I am no emissary--I did not wish to deliver up my country to a foreign power, and least of all, to France. No! never did I entertain the idea of establishing French power in Ireland--God forbid! On the contrary, it is evident from the introductory paragraph of the Address of the Provisional Government, that every hazard attending an independent effort was deemed preferable to the more fatal risk of introducing a French army into the country. Small would be our claims to patriotism and to sense, and palpable our affectation of the love of liberty, if we were to encourage the profanation of our shores by a people who are slaves themselves, and the unprincipled and abandoned instruments of imposing slavery on others. If such an inference be drawn from any part of the proclamation of the Provisional Government, it calumniates their views, and is not warranted by the fact.--How could they speak of freedom to their countrymen? How assume such an exalted motive, and meditate the introduction of a power which has been the enemy of freedom in every part of the globe? Reviewing the conduct of France to other countries, could we expect better towards us? No! Let not, then, any man attaint my memory by believing that I could have hoped for freedom through the aid of France, and betrayed the sacred cause of liberty, by committing it to the power of her most determined foe: had I done so, I had not deserved to live; and dying with such a weight upon my character, I had merited the honest execration of that country which gave me birth, and to which I would have given freedom.

"Had I been in Switzerland, I would have fought against the French--in the dignity of freedom, I would have expired on the threshold of that country, and they should have entered it only by passing over my lifeless corpse. Is it, then, to be supposed, that I would be slow to make the same sacrifice to my native land? Am I, who lived but to be of service to my country, and who would subject myself to the bondage of the grave to give her independence--am I to be loaded with the foul and grievous calumny of being an emissary of France? My Lords, it may be part of the system of angry justice to bow a man's mind by humiliation to meet the ignominy of the scaffold; but worse to me than the scaffold's shame or the scaffold's terrors, would be the imputation of having been the agent of French despotism and ambition; and while I have breath I will call upon my countrymen not to believe me guilty of so foul a crime against their liberties and their happiness.

"Though you, my lord, sit there a judge, and I stand here a culprit, yet you are but a man, and I am another; I have a right therefore to vindicate my character and motives from the aspersions of calumny; and as a man to whom fame is dearer than life, I will make the last use of that life in rescuing my name and my memory from the afflicting imputation of having been an emissary of France, or seeking her interference in the internal regulation of our affairs.

"Did I live to see a French army approach this country, I would meet it on the shore with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other--I would receive them with all the destruction of war! I would animate my countrymen to immolate them in their very boats; and before our native soil should be polluted by a foreign foe, if they succeeded in landing, I would burn every blade of grass before them, raze every house, contend to the last for every inch of ground, and the last spot on which the hope of freedom should desert me, that spot I would make my grave: what I cannot do, I leave a legacy to my country, because I feel conscious that my death were unprofitable, and all hope of liberty extinct, the moment a French army obtained a footing in this land. God forbid that I should see my country under the hands of a foreign power. If the French should come as a foreign enemy, Oh! my countrymen! meet them on the shore with a torch in one hand, a sword in the other: receive them with all the destruction of war; immolate them in their boats before our native soil shall be polluted by a foreign foe! If they proceed in landing, fight them on the strand, burn every blade of grass before them as they advance--raze every house; and if you are driven to the centre of your country, collect your provisions, your property, your wives, and your daughters; form a circle around them--fight while but two men are left; and when but one remains, let that man set fire to the pile, and release himself, and the families of his fallen countrymen, from the tyranny of France.

"My lamp of life is nearly expired--my race is finished: the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. All I request, then, at parting from the world, is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man, who knows my motives, dare vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them; let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain undescribed, till other times and other men can do justice to my character."

Judgment was then passed on him in the usual form, and he was ordered for execution. On his return to Newgate he drew up a statement of the insurrection, and the cause of its failure, which he requested might be sent to his brother, Thomas Addis, who was then at Paris.

The unfortunate young man, on the night before his execution, wrote to Mr. Curran and his son Robert, excusing himself for his conduct towards Miss Curran, and the firmness and regularity of the original hand-writing contain an affecting proof of the little influence which the approaching event exerted over his frame. The same enthusiasm which allured him to his destruction enabled him to support its utmost rigour. He met his fate with unostentatious fortitude; and although few could ever think of justifying his projects or regretting their failure, yet his youth, his talents, and the great respectability of his connexions, and the evident delusion of which he was the victim, have excited more general sympathy for his unfortunate end, and more forbearance towards his memory, than is usually extended to the errors or sufferings of political offenders.

Moore, the celebrated Irish bard, has lamented his fate in the following melody:--

Oh! breathe not his name--let it sleep in the shade!
Where cold and unhonor'd his relics are laid!
Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.

But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps,
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps;
And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

Several of Emmet's deluded followers met the fate of their leader, and by their ignominious deaths, taught their countrymen the folly and madness of attempting to separate Ireland from this kingdom by violent means.

The following pathetic history of Miss Curran, after the death of her lover, is extracted from Washington Irving's "Sketch Book," in which it appears under the title of "The Broken Heart." It is rather long, but its beauty will amply repay the trouble of its perusal:--

"Every one must recollect the tragical story of young E----, the Irish patriot; it was too touching to be soon forgotten. During the troubles in Ireland he was tried, condemned, and executed, on a charge of treason. His fate made a deep impression on public sympathy. He was so young--so intelligent--so generous--so brave--so everything that we are apt to like in a young man. His conduct under trial, too, was so lofty and intrepid! The noble indignation with which he repelled the charge of treason against his country--the eloquent vindication of his name--and his pathetic appeal to posterity, in the hopeless hour of condemnation--all these entered deeply into every generous bosom, and even his enemies lamented the stern policy that dictated his execution.

"But there was one heart, whose anguish it would be impossible to describe. In happier days and fairer fortunes, he had won the affections of a beautiful and interesting girl, the daughter of a late celebrated Irish barrister. She loved him with the disinterested fervour of a woman's first and early love. When every worldly maxim arrayed itself against him; when blasted in fortune, and disgrace and danger darkened around his name, she loved him the more ardently for his very sufferings. If, then, his fate could awaken the sympathy even of his foes, what must have been the agony of her whose soul was occupied by his image! Let those tell who have had the portals of the tomb suddenly closed between them and the being they most loved on earth--who have sat at its threshold, as one shut out in a cold and lonely world, from whence all that was most lovely and loving had departed.

"But then the horrors of such a grave! so frightful, so dishonoured! There was nothing for memory to dwell on that could soothe the pang of separation--none of those tender, though melancholy circumstances, that endear the parting scene--nothing to melt sorrow into those blessed tears, sent, like the dews of heaven, to revive the heart in the parching hour of anguish.

"To render her widowed situation more desolate, she had incurred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate attachment, and was an exile from the paternal roof. But could the sympathy and kind offices of friends have reached a spirit so shocked and driven in by horror, she would have experienced no want of consolation; for the Irish are a people of quick and generous sensibilities. The most delicate and cherishing attentions were paid her by families of wealth and distinction. She was led into society, and they tried by all kinds of occupation and amusement to dissipate her grief, and wean her from the tragical story of her lover. But it was all in vain. There are some strokes of calamity that scathe and scorch the soul--that penetrate to the vital seat of happiness--and blast it, never again to put forth bud or blossom. She never objected to frequent the haunts of pleasure, but she was as much alone there as in the depth of solitude. She walked about in a sad reverie, apparently unconscious of the world around her. She carried with her an inward woe that mocked at all the blandishments of friendship, and 'heeded not the song of the charmer, charm he never so wisely.'

"The person who told me her story had seen her at a masquerade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone wretchedness more striking and painful than to meet it in such a scene. To find it wandering like a spectre, lonely and joyless, where all around is gay--to see it dressed out in the trappings of mirth, and looking so wan and woe-begone, as if it had tried in vain to cheat the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sorrow. After strolling through the splendid rooms and giddy crowd with an utter air of abstraction, she sat herself down on the steps of an orchestra, and looking about some time with a vacant air, that showed her insensibility of the garish scene, she began, with the capriciousness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plaintive air. She had an exquisite voice; but on this occasion it was so simple, so touching, it breathed forth such a soul of wretchedness, that she drew a crowd mute and silent around her, and melted every one into tears.

"The story of one so true and tender could not but excite great interest in a country remarkable for enthusiasm. It completely won the heart of a brave officer, who paid his addresses to her, and thought that one so true to the dead could not but prove affectionate to the living. She declined his attentions, for her thoughts were irrevocably engrossed by the memory of her former lover. He, however, persisted in his suit. He solicited not her tenderness, but her esteem. He was assisted by her conviction of his worth, and her sense of her own destitute and dependent situation; for she was existing on the kindness of her friends. In a word, he at length succeeded in gaining her hand, though with the solemn assurance that her heart was unalterably another's.

"He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change of scene might wear out the remembrance of early woes. She was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an effort to be a happy one; but nothing could cure the silent and devouring melancholy that had entered into her very soul. She wasted away in a slow, but hopeless decline; and at length sank into the grave, the victim of a broken heart."

COLONEL EDWARD MARCUS DESPARD, JOHN FRANCIS, JOHN WOOD, AND OTHERS.

EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.

The professed object of the plot, in which these misguided men were engaged, was neither more or less than the overthrow of the Government, and the destruction of the Royal Family.

The men, who were found guilty of being concerned in the project, were Edward Marcus Despard, aged fifty, a colonel in the army; John Francis, a private soldier, aged twenty-three; John Wood, a private soldier, aged thirty-six; Thomas Broughton, a carpenter, aged twenty-six; James Sedgwick Wratton, a shoemaker, aged thirty-five; John Macnamara, a carpenter, aged fifty; and Arthur Graham, a slater, aged fifty-three.

Colonel Despard, the ill-starred leader of the conspirators, was descended from a very ancient and respectable family, in the Queen's County in Ireland. He was the youngest of six brothers, all of whom, except the eldest, had served their country, either in the army or navy.

In 1766 he entered the army as an ensign in the 5th regiment; and he afterwards served in the same regiment as a lieutenant; and in the 79th he successively held rank as lieutenant, quarter-master, captain-lieutenant, and captain. From his superior officers he received many marks of approbation, particularly from General Calcraft, of the 50th, General Meadows, and the Duke of Northumberland. He had been, for the last twenty years before his execution, detached from any particular corps, and intrusted with important offices.

In 1779, he was appointed chief engineer to the St. Juan expedition, and conducted himself so as to obtain distinguished praise. He also received the thanks of the council and assembly of Jamaica, for the construction of public works there, and was, in consequence of these services, appointed, by the governor of Jamaica, to be commander-in-chief of the island of Rattan and its dependencies, and of the troops there; and to rank as lieutenant-colonel and field-engineer; and he commanded, as such, on the Spanish Main in Rattan, and on the Musquito shore, and Bay of Honduras. After this, at Cape Gracias á Dios, he put himself at the head of the inhabitants, who voluntarily solicited him to take the command, and retook from the Spaniards Black River, the principal settlement of the coast. For this service he received the thanks of the governor, council, and assembly of Jamaica, and of the king himself. In 1783, he was promoted to the rank of colonel. In 1784, he was appointed first commissioner for settling and receiving the territory ceded to Britain by the sixth article of the definitive treaty of peace with Spain, in 1783; and he so well discharged his duty as colonel, that he was appointed superintendant of his majesty's affairs on the coast of Honduras, which office he held much to the advantage of the crown of England, for he obtained from that of Spain some very important privileges. The clashing interests, however, of the inhabitants of this coast produced much discontent, and the colonel was, by a party of them, accused of various misdemeanours to his majesty's ministers.

He now came home, and demanded that his conduct should be investigated; but, after two years' constant attendance on all the departments of government, he was at last told by the ministers, that there was no charge against him worthy of notice, and that his Majesty had thought proper to abolish the office of superintendant at Honduras, otherwise he should have been reinstated in it; but he was then, and on every occasion, assured, that his services should not be forgotten, but that they should, in due time, meet their reward.

Irritated by continued disappointments, he began to vent his indignation in an unguarded manner, and thus rendering himself liable to suspicion, he was for a considerable time confined in Cold Bath-fields' Prison, under the provisions of the Habeas Corpus Suspension Act, then recently passed. On his liberation it was found that his passions were not cooled by the imprisonment which he had undergone; and inflamed against the government himself, he at length succeeded in gaining over to his views others whose causes of complaint were even more trivial than those of their leader. Their proceeding soon became so notorious, that it was determined that the existence of the society which they had formed was no longer consistent with public safety; and in consequence of representations which were made, a search-warrant was issued, which was placed in the hands of the police for execution. A strong body of constables having assembled, they all proceeded to the Oakley Arms, Oakley-street, Lambeth, where they found and apprehended Colonel Despard and about forty other persons assembled in a room together, the greater part of whom were men of indifferent character, and of low station in life. The prisoners were on the following day carried to Union Hall, to be examined by the magistrates sitting there; and in the end Colonel Despard, and thirty-two of his companions, were committed to Horsemonger-lane Gaol to await the final and determinate investigation of their cases before a jury.

For the better and more effectual trial of the prisoners, a special commission was issued, by virtue of which they were arraigned, on indictments which had been found against them, on the 7th February, 1803.

The first case gone into was that of Despard, and the indictment having been read, the case for the prosecution was opened by the attorney-general; and he stated that the prisoners had formed a society, the object of which was to overturn the government. His Majesty having intended to meet his Parliament a week earlier than he actually did, namely, on the 16th January instead of on the 23rd, the society proposed on that day to carry out their plan, which was in the first instance to lay a restraint upon the King's person, and to destroy him. They frequently attempted to seduce soldiers into their club, and on any of them being persuaded to join them, they administered false oaths to them, and gave them copies of the oath, in order that they might endeavour to make proselytes in their turn. Among others thus gained over was one Windsor, but soon after he had joined he became dissatisfied, and gave information of the conspiracy to a Mr. Bonus, to whom he showed a copy of the oath, but by the advice of that gentleman, he remained a member of the society with the design of learning whether there were any persons of note among its members. On the Friday before the intended assassination of the King, a meeting was held, at which Broughton, the prisoner, prevailed upon two of the associates to go to the Flying Horse, Newington, where they would meet with a "nice man," and it turned out that the person so described was Colonel Despard.

The witnesses were then examined; and after proof of the apprehension of the prisoners, as described already, had been given, and the printed papers which had been found, and which contained the form of the oath, &c., had been read, Thomas Windsor, the chief witness, was called.