ROBERT EMMET 
 
 f 
 
 «#>- 
 
 j “ But alas! for his country—her pride is gone by, 
 
 * And that spirit is broken which never could bend; 
 
 O’er the ruin her children in secret must sigh, 
 
 ' * or t’> 8 treason to love her, and death to defend. * 
 
 ^IpUnprized are her sons ’till they’ve learned to betray— 
 
 
 UifiMsTITt^eS 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY 
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THE 
 
 LIFE AND ACTIONS 
 
 or 
 
 ROBERT EMMET, 
 
 LEADER OF THE INSURRECTION OF 1803; 
 
 K r INCLUDING 
 
 HIS TRIAL, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 CELEBRATED SPEECH- 
 
 fc * 
 
 DELIVERED BY HIM UPON THAT OCCASION. 
 
 8TEREOTYPED EDITION. 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 
 PRINTED BY C. M. WARREN, 
 
 21, UPPER ORMOND QUAY. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY. 
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 E5H 
 
 LIF1 AND ACTIONS 
 
 OP 
 
 ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 _ 
 
 THERE are few persons whose name is so 
 bailed by the young and ardent, and whose 
 character has produced a greater effect upon 
 society, than that of Robert Emmet. 
 
 Emmet was moulded in nature’s happiest 
 combination for his destined service. He pos¬ 
 sessed the physical qualities necessary to an 
 accomplished speaker, with high intellect to 
 master and employ knowledge ; with imagina¬ 
 tions and feelings to sway the passions and the 
 heart; and with the power of incessant labour 
 to collect, discipline, and perfect the varied 
 materials of a revolutionary undertaking. When 
 fove of country is united with great virtues, and 
 both are embellished by learning, taste, and 
 talents, we then see man in his proudest form; 
 we overlook or forget all that is weak, frail, and 
 mortal in human nature, and look up to him as 
 t being of supei ior order. Such was Emmet 
 
c 
 
 rHE LIFE OF 
 
 His amiable and esteemed character gave 
 an elevating' influence to the fame of the society 
 of which he was the leader—many of whom, 
 though of equal talent and respectability, were 
 inferior in that fine sensibility of heart, and 
 constancy in friendship, which gained him the 
 love and esteem of all who knew him. Nor 
 was it only for his bland manners, and fine 
 sensibilities of heart, and constancy in friend¬ 
 ship, and firmness in principle : he ranked 
 among the highest of its gifted sons who dis¬ 
 play its fertile genius and its social spirit; who 
 introduce the name of Ireland to the respect of 
 the world. 
 
 Commensurate with his value to relatives 
 and friends, and to this, his native city, was 
 the appalling sensation that pervaded his coun¬ 
 try on the occasion of his lamented death. If 
 is not surprising that his removal in one unex 
 pected moment from this busy life’s vocations 
 to the oblivious silence of the tomb, should pro¬ 
 duce, as it did, a general burst of sorrow, and 
 a common sense of bereavement. 
 
 Forty summers have closed around the Uni* 
 ted Irishmen, since they made catholic emanci¬ 
 pation and parliamentary reform the leading 
 measures of their policy. They found all the 
 Catholics of Ireland, the great majority of iti 
 population, reduced, by the operation of the 
 ferocious penal laws, to the condition of slaves 
 in all things but being vendible, to the veit 
 meanest of their Protestant countrymen. Not 
 only did the British tfovernment embrace evenj 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 1 
 
 teverity that could waste the vigour of the na 
 lion, but all the rights of humanity, and even} 
 duty of life, were sacrificed by its direction oi 
 connivance, so this would promote the self-inter¬ 
 est or gratify the rancour of the favoured party. 
 
 There was a law of discovery, by which a 
 man who betrayed the confidence of his friend, 
 if he was a Catholic, possessed himself of that 
 friend’s estate. There was a law which dis¬ 
 abled the Catholic father to be guardian to his 
 own child, or to educate him. There was i 
 law which made the disobedience and apos- 
 tacy of the Catholic child, the means whereby 
 to disinherit his father. There was a law for 
 robbing a Catholic of his horse on the high¬ 
 way, if, when interrogated, he confessed his 
 faith. There was a law to prevent the educa¬ 
 tion of Catholic children, and to punish Ca¬ 
 tholic teachers as convicts ; to banish the Ca¬ 
 tholic clergy, and to hang them if they re¬ 
 turned ; to prevent Catholics from purchasing 
 or inheriting landed estates; from having 
 arms for their defence ; to debar them from the 
 profession of the law; to prevent them from 
 holding any office of trust, honour or emolu¬ 
 ment, voting at elections, or sitting in parlia¬ 
 ment. 
 
 The United Irishmen found their country 
 ander government of those laws, and perhaps 
 a hundred more, all conceived in the same 
 spirit, and all elaborated with consummate skill 
 to rob, harass, and insult a defenceless peonle 
 Those statutes, without parallel for their inhu 
 
* 
 
 THE lir± tit 
 
 fianity were framed against Christians, under 
 pretence of securing the Protestant religion. 
 They were enacted by Irish Protestants, politi¬ 
 cal Protestants, than whom no sect has cried 
 more loudly against persecution, when Protest¬ 
 ants were the martyrs. For all this, the Pro¬ 
 testant religion is not persecuting in its nature. 
 When true to its origin, it is necessarily tole¬ 
 rant, and acts against its proper spirit when¬ 
 ever it coerces conscience, or compels unifor¬ 
 mity of worship, through means of disabilities, 
 or subscription to its articles of faith, by force 
 of the secular arm. What, indeed, would be 
 more inconsistent than to profess the right of 
 every man to judge scripture for himself, and 
 then to punish him for having done so ? The 
 crimes of the dominant party are not justly 
 chargeable upon the Protestant religion, though 
 committed in its name. They were bitterly 
 deplored by United Irishmen of all religions 
 and by none more than the subject of this me¬ 
 moir ; himself a member of the established 
 church, but no abettor of its injustice. 
 
 Through all this long persecution, the con¬ 
 duct of England wore a visor of hypocrisy. It 
 was not the conversion of the Irish it desired, 
 but their spoliation, division, and subjection. 
 If united in religion, they might unite for their 
 worldly interest, and a means of weakening 
 them by dissension would be lost. The English 
 mission never had the merit of even being hon¬ 
 estly fanatical; it was cold-blooded and crafty 
 Ita conduct was not fwWy oalliated by the mia* 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 9 
 
 taken imcerifcy of blind zeal, which time might 
 soften, and philosophy assuage. It had the 
 more terrestrial motive of insatiable rapacity, 
 the appetite for plunder, and the desire of fat¬ 
 tening on the green pastures of Ireland. This 
 is the eating canker, which neither time or 
 reason ever cures, and which is now as de¬ 
 vouring as from the beginning. 
 
 After the laws had disfranchised four-fifths 
 of the population, all the emoluments of office, 
 all the wealth of the richest church in the world, 
 ail the distinction of power, all the pomp, cir¬ 
 cumstance, and advantages of dominion, fell 
 into the lap of the favoured few. These men 
 never wished to lessen the pretext of their 
 gains; they never sought the conversion of 
 their zealots by any means that over made pro¬ 
 selytes to any cause 
 
 The domestic spoliation of the Catholics was 
 the share c f the Irish Protestants in thir 
 wholesale robbery. The spoliation of tho 
 Irish nation was the part of England in this 
 boundless plunder. She took the whole trade, 
 prosperity, and independence of Ireland, which 
 the Irish Protestants freely surrendered for the 
 license to pillage and tyrannize at home. These 
 wrongs inflicted and endured, begat mutual 
 hatred and frequent collision, and will account 
 for the little union among Irishmen, and the 
 ferocity of character to be found in those dis¬ 
 tricts where the adverse parties came oftenest 
 into contact. 
 
 The barter of a nation’s rights for the lucre 
 
 *3 
 
10 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 of faction is what was called the Protestant 
 Ascendancy in Church and State. It was also 
 tailed the British Constitution. Against that 
 impious combination of treachery within, and 
 tyranny from without, the United Irishmen 
 pointed their oath of union —“ To forward a 
 brotherhood of affection, a community of 
 rights, an identity of interests, and a union of 
 power among Irishmen of every religious pel- 
 suasion.” It was this oath that was prosecuted 
 as a felony of death, and for which it sent fre¬ 
 quent victims to the scaffold. 
 
 Emmet did not live to behold the triumph 
 of the Caholic cause, that happy accomplish¬ 
 ment of one of the great measures to which he 
 devoted fortune and life. It was in 1829 
 that various circumstances, domestic and fo. 
 reign, among which, the threatening aspect o* 
 the Catholics, their perfect union, improved 
 knowledge, and the publicity given to their 
 tause throughout the civilized world, with 
 the strong sympathy of Europe in their be¬ 
 half, induced the Irish government to com> 
 pel the church party in Ireland to relin¬ 
 quish its ascendancy over them, rather than 
 risk the loss of its own dominion over the 
 Irish nation. 
 
 But the subjection of conscience to those cruel 
 inflictions was itself only incidental to a greater 
 evil, and this one the United Irishmen aimed 
 above all things to remove ; it was the root 
 of every other calamity, and until corrected, no 
 good could be permanent, no security could be 
 
ROB*', nr F.M MET. 
 
 n 
 
 lasting; Improvement was hardly possible.*** 
 This master grievance was partly the wan&, 
 partly the perversion of a national representa¬ 
 tion. In the parliament of a people adequately 
 represented, its interests are prosecuted with 
 its consent and confidence. A knowledge of 
 all the ameliorations in government, in the 
 science of politics, in commerce, arts, trades, 
 and manufactures, in every thing that affects a 
 nation’s welfare, is concentred there with the 
 power of applying it to the public good. The 
 discordant crv, and the tumultuous impulse, 
 are there luf^nonized into peace and order, 
 and commotion and rebellion are unknown, 
 where votes are competent to decide, instead 
 f swords. It was this fruitful blessing which 
 the United Irishmen sought first of all to ob 
 tain for their country. 
 
 Down to the period of 1782, English acts of 
 parliament were suffered to bind Ireland. Mis* 
 government and poverty, the neglect of agri¬ 
 culture, the prohibition of commerce, the aban¬ 
 donment of manufactures, were, during that 
 period, the portion of Ireland. But, toward! 
 the end of the American war, the Volunteers 
 emancipated their country from this bondage, 
 and gave it the means of being independent. 
 The example of America was before both par 
 ties with all its omens ; hence the demands o 
 the Volunteers were prudentialiy conceded, and 
 the glorious revolution of 1782 was accom¬ 
 plished without the loss of a drop of blood. The 
 happy consequence was. the immediate libera^ 
 
17 
 
 TITS LIPS 01 
 
 fion of the commerce of Ireland from English 
 restrictions. Her ensuing prosperity seemed 
 miraculous—so prompt, so general, so enrich* 
 ing; and her aptitude to prosper by a free 
 trade became known, at the same time, to her 
 rival and herself. 
 
 But the Volunteers could not be always in 
 arms, and Ireland had no representative assem¬ 
 bly to fbster her prosperity during peace. Her? 
 was, alas ! a borough parliament, composed 
 solely of the dominant faction, representing but 
 a small /lumber of the inhabitants, and not 
 feeling as the nation, nor as the majority. 
 
 Every one soon perceived that all measures 
 of relief would be insecure, nay, illusory, un- 
 ,ess preceded or accompanied by a reform in 
 this parliament. The Volunteers saw it, and 
 endeavoured to reform ; but they excluded the 
 Catholics from parliament, and did not see 
 (unhappy effects of the ignorance of the times !) 
 that this alone would defeat their plan, that 
 they could not erect an edifice of freedom on a 
 foundation of monopoly. Warned by these 
 Srrors, the United Irishmen altered the system 
 fif reform fundamentally. They extended 
 their base, and established their plan upon 
 three simple principles, necessarily dependent 
 on each other, and containing the disease, the 
 remedy, and the mode of its attainments. The 
 excess of English influence was the disease,—a 
 »eform in parliament the remedy—and the in¬ 
 clusion of the Catholics the mode of its attain- 
 
ROBERT 'EMMET. 
 
 t 
 
 Theobald Wolf Tone had, of all others, the 
 greatest part in effecting this change of senti 
 ment among the Protestants, to whose commu¬ 
 nion he belonged. He wrote the original de¬ 
 claration for the Society of United Irishmen 
 of Belfast; and his powerful writings brought 
 the Presbyterians of the North very generally 
 into the system. 
 
 Emmet often heard him, in strains of pure 
 and forceful eloquence, expand, inculcate, and 
 apply, for the benefit of his beloved country, 
 the political principles of the United Irishmen. 
 
 Wherever men had no means of legitimate 
 redress, we have seen them become their own 
 avengers, the worst government being always 
 marked by the greatest commotions. If there 
 be not an impartial administration of justice, 
 the stiletto takes place of the jury ; and, for 
 want of a government restricted and account' 
 able in Ireland, insurrection and civil war 
 were the resource of an exasperated people. 
 Left without the protection of a national par¬ 
 liament, Ireland was always tyrannically ruled, 
 the frame of society dislocated and broken, 
 and her numerous insurrections were the throes 
 of agonized nature. 
 
 But from the moment the Protestant reform¬ 
 ers recognised the principle that no reform was 
 practicable, efficacious, or just, which should not 
 equally include Irishmen of every religious 
 persuasion, the measure was feasible. It re¬ 
 ceived the assent of the whole natiorv save only 
 
14 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the established church and the other depend- 
 Unts of the British government. Its principle 
 tecommended itself to the common sense oi 
 mankind, and the authority of America pro¬ 
 claimed its benefits. In a short time, its way 
 tvas so far proclaimed by public opinion, that 
 even its interested opponents anticipated its 
 final success. They determined, therefore, up¬ 
 on the desperate expedient of leaving no par¬ 
 liament in T veland for reform to better. They 
 hastened to buy from the borough-holders that 
 which a truly-Irish parliament would not sell — 
 its own existence, and the nation’s independ¬ 
 ence. They hoped to extinguish, in the aboli¬ 
 tion of the parliament, every chance and effort 
 of peaceable and constitutional improvement. 
 They conspired to transport it for life, mutd 
 ated and captive, into the British house; U- 
 imprison beyond sea, in the abyss of English 
 supremacy, where its languishing, nerveless 
 remains, doomed to live in a perpetual mino¬ 
 rity, could never bring more to its ill-fated 
 country the blessings of liberty, good govern¬ 
 ment, or commerce. 
 
 By the measure of a legislative Union, Ireland 
 reverts again to the same wretched state as 
 when bound by acts of the English parliament. 
 On the misery of that, state, the ablest men who 
 ever advocated her cause, even other than Uni¬ 
 ted Irishmen, have exhausted eloquence and in¬ 
 vective, and the brightest page in her history is 
 the one which records the extorted renun« 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 15 
 
 ciation of that usurped power and plenary right 
 of self government. The pitiful representa¬ 
 tion of Ireland, in a foreign land, can but littli 
 avail her for her own benefit. She is there in 
 a minority of one to six. The six give the law 
 to the one, and with tnat one they have nothing 
 in common. They have other constituents, 
 who are a different people, who have clashing 
 interests, who have national antipathies, and 
 who may well feel contempt for the substitutes 
 of that parliament that traitorously sold its 
 country. Such are the legislators who have 
 bound Ireland in fetters. 
 
 The consequences are the same as hereto* 
 fore ; discontent and remonstrance, and a pro¬ 
 clamation to all Europe, showing how easy it 
 would be to dismember the United Kingdom. 
 No loyalty will reconcile rational beings to pre¬ 
 serve an evil which they can exchange for a 
 good; so that they who make Ireland poor 
 and enslaved, set before her, above all other 
 men, the advantages of separation. What can 
 create a desire for this remedy but ill-treat¬ 
 ment ? and as long as this treatment lasts, how 
 shall that desire discontinue ? They stand in 
 file relation of cause and effect, and will for 
 £ver go on, or cease together. 
 
 It was the opinion of Emmet, that the legis¬ 
 lative Union was a measure more suited to fa¬ 
 cilitate the despotism of the ministry, than to 
 strengthen the dominion of England. Since 
 the abuse of power has ever followed excess, no 
 less in nations than individuals* a restraint up- 
 
THE LITE Of* 
 
 1 » 
 
 on human 'actions is salutary for all paiites and 
 ihe impediment that shall stop the career of mi¬ 
 nisterial tyranny, will be found to work best for 
 the stability of the connexion. If this operate 
 to the good of Ireland, she will observe it for its 
 utility, an Irish parliament being then its best 
 preservative. If, on the contrary, it be made, 
 as at present, to sacrifice the many to the few, 
 t will be viewed as a curse by the Irish peo¬ 
 ple, who have in all cases most power, and, in 
 this, will have least reason to sustain it. 
 
 At present, we see those persons, who deny 
 a parliament to Ireland, on which to rest her 
 peace and happiness, self-poised and self-pro¬ 
 tected ; we see them sedulous to change the 
 state of the question, and to misrepresent the 
 repeal of the legislative Union as schism in the 
 government. They would limit us entirely to 
 England for benefits—whence, then, have 
 come our wrongs? An Irish parliament, on 
 the contrary, would be a bond of liberal con- 
 nexion; it would settle every question of do¬ 
 mestic policy at home, prevent strife and recri 
 jnination between both countries, secure to the 
 affairs of Ireland a degree of attention, which, 
 however necessary, they do not, and cannot, 
 cbtain among the weighty concerns of a differ¬ 
 ent people, in a foreign legislature. It would 
 remove the old opprobrious evil of legislation 
 without representation; for, wherever this is 
 partial and foreign, it is inadequate-—as re¬ 
 lates to Ireland, it is worthless mockery 
 Why was a borough constituency vicious, bu? 
 
OEER*T EMMET. it 
 
 because it sent men to make laws for the 
 people, who did not represent the people ; who 
 were returned by a different body, and intent 
 only upon serving themselves and their em¬ 
 ployers. 
 
 In the same way, the parliament is vicious, 
 which makes laws to rule Ireland, by men not 
 chosen by Ireland—who do not represent her 
 people, who do not know her wants or wishes, 
 and who must be often biassed by an adverse 
 interest. 
 
 The attributes of genius are not rare among 
 the countrymen of Emmet, and time is con¬ 
 stantly developing the resources of mind. The 
 labours of intellect press onward for distinc¬ 
 tion, while names of high endowment are 
 forced back to make room for new reputations. 
 They alone will be remembered, who have 
 acted with an impulsive power on the desti¬ 
 nies of their country and kind. Among those 
 who first taught how to overthrow the misrule 
 of Ireland, who exposed its cause, and prepared 
 its cure, Emmet is distinguished. He had 
 great influence on the adoption of those mea¬ 
 sures which are still at issue between Ireland 
 and her foes, and which, in part obtained, in 
 part withheld, are determinative of her happi¬ 
 ness, as they shall finally fail, or be signally 
 successful. He espoused the unqualified 
 emancipation of the Catholics, when that mea¬ 
 sure had few supporters out of their own body. 
 He brought to that cause virtue and talents, 
 and he and a few more, influential members 
 
18 
 
 THE LIFE' C* 
 
 of the Protestant church redeemed the error of 
 iheir predecessors. It is due to their memory 
 'o record, that their vigorous interference broke 
 ihe religious bonds which the Protestants of a 
 former period had bound. They were accessi¬ 
 ble among the first in Ireland to the liberality of 
 the age. The adversaries of Ireland’s freedom 
 laboured to calumniate her best friends, and to 
 hold up the United Irishmen, especially as 
 wanton rebels. We hold them up in their deeds 
 as benefactors to their country, so far as being 
 opposed to religious persecution, and the ty¬ 
 rannical power of an ascending party. 
 
 Robert Emmet was born in Dublin, in the 
 year 1782. He was younger brother of Tho¬ 
 mas Addis Emmet, who had, previously to the 
 rebellion of 1798, abandoned a respectable si¬ 
 tuation at the Irish Bar, in order to project 
 and carry into execution the schemes of that 
 day—an Irish Republic, and separation from 
 Great Britain. His father had filled, during 
 a considerable period, the situation of state 
 physician in Dublin. 
 
 Early instruction has often produced a last¬ 
 ing impression upon youth. This was the be¬ 
 nefit which Emmet derived, at an early age, 
 from the Rev. Mr. Lewis, his private tutor, who, 
 though a minister of the Protestant Church, 
 was yet an enemy to its monopolizing power, 
 over his Catholic brethren. 
 
 At the age of sixteen, he entered Trinity 
 College. Here, his progress in classical and 
 mathematical knowledge soon gained him ho* 
 
*BERT EMMET. 
 
 19 
 
 nour and reputation. But nis heated spirit had 
 l>een wrought up by the political enthusiasm in 
 which he had been early .nitiated. At tha 
 Historical Society, of which he was a member 
 ’ue expressed his sentiments so freely on English 
 influence in Ireland, that he came under the 
 juspicions of Lord Chancellor Clare, who ulti¬ 
 mately expelled him from College, for de¬ 
 nouncing, in a speech he made, the English 
 form of government, and advocating that of a 
 Republican. 
 
 He had been sufficiently unguarded in his 
 conduct, while the disturbances of ’98 existed, 
 to become an object of the vigilance of govern 
 ment, and had found it prudent to reside 
 abroad so long as the Habeas Corpus Act was 
 suspended. He fled to the Continent, where 
 an active correspondence was set on foot with 
 the French government. Emmet, with the 
 Chiefs of the preceding Irish Rebellion, were 
 summoned to Paris. Consultations were held 
 with them, and the organization of another Re¬ 
 volution was commenced, and prosecuted with 
 unceasing diligence. Nor was the then ruler 
 of France (Buonaparte) inattentive or remiss 
 to forward, by every means in his power, the 
 project. To Emmet was delegated the office 
 of director and principal mover of this new 
 attempt upon the British dominion in Ireland. 
 
 On the expiration of the Habeas Corpus Act, 
 he returned to Dublin, but thought it prudent 
 for the forwarding of the Revolution, to live pri¬ 
 vately. He took obscure lodgings at Harold’s- 
 
no 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Cross, under the assumed name of Hewit.— 
 Here he held his meetings with his associate*. 
 These people hailed with transport the oppor¬ 
 tunity of re-commencing another attempt on 
 subverting British power in Ireland ; and while 
 some spread themselves over the country, in 
 every direction, others fixed themselves in the 
 laetropolis. 
 
 During the first four months after Emmet'* 
 arrival, nothing of his machinations trans¬ 
 pired. Soon after the King’s proclamation, on 
 the 8th of March, conceiving the moment o. 
 national alarm at the renovation of hostilities, 
 and a threatened invasion, favourable to his 
 projects, he became more active in his prepara¬ 
 tions. The whole of his family portion, whic& 
 consisted of two thousand five hundred pounds; 
 he devoted to his enthusiasm. In the begin¬ 
 ning of April, he quitted his lodgings at Ha. 
 rold’s Cross with the name of Hewit, and in 
 the new name of Ellis he took the lease of a 
 house, for which he paid a fine of sixty-one 
 guineas, in Butterfield-lane, near Rathfarn- 
 ham. Here he harangued his associates, and 
 encouraged them, by hopes of a happy result, 
 to their labours.* 
 
 * u Liberty,” said Emmet, “ is the child of oppression, 
 and the birth of the offspring is the death of the parent; 
 while tyranny, like the poetical desert bird, is consumed 
 in flames Ignited by itself, and its whole existence is spent 
 in providing the means of self-destruction. We have a 
 complete exemplification of this in the past history and 
 present state of Ireland, where increase of numbers and 
 
ROBERT fcMMKl $1 
 
 In the course of the intermediate months, 
 jbe different depots in Dublin, which he hired, 
 were, at his sole expense, furnished with mili¬ 
 tary pikes and handles, ammunition and cloth¬ 
 ing. In one of these depots, gunpowder was 
 manufactured; in the others, timber was pro¬ 
 vided for constructing pikes, and those already 
 made, and his other arms and stores, were 
 there deposited. Here, it must bq observed, 
 of the numerous persons connected with t those 
 depots, that neither the certainty of an ample 
 reward, nor the wavering instability common 
 to men engaged in danger and dangerous de¬ 
 signs, could draw the discovery from the im¬ 
 penetrable recesses of their fidelity!—an evb 
 dent proof that the heart of the people were 
 with the project; or, perhaps, it was that the 
 departments of the police of Dublin were all 
 filled by men, who had been deeply engaged 
 in the severities of the preceding rebellion, and 
 who being, on that account, stigmatized and 
 detested by the people, even those who were se¬ 
 cretly inclined to give information, were not 
 
 increase of intelligence have been the direct result of 
 that system which too long has ruled this kingdom. 
 
 “ Our grievances cannot possibly endure, under any 
 circumstances, much longer ; for Nature revolts against 
 tyranny and injustice; and the means taken to perpe* 
 tuate these have always ended in their complete discom* 
 flture—in this sense we must look for an explanation o( 
 the apparent paradox, that national misfortunes are ufc 
 timately productive of national benefit^ 
 
22 
 
 TA£ LIF1 Of 
 
 willing to unbosom themselves to men wlioiv 
 they regarded with so much horror. 
 
 Government had, by the month of June, dis¬ 
 covered sufficient to quicken its diligence, and 
 the officers of the police appeared thencefor¬ 
 ward more alert and vigilant; notwithstand¬ 
 ing which, it was difficult to bring them to 
 believe that the project of Insurrection was on 
 foot. This state of delusion continued until 
 'he fourteenth of July, the anniversary of the 
 French Revolution, which opened the eyes of 
 many, and excited a considerable degree of 
 hlarm. Bonfires were publicly made in com¬ 
 memoration of that event, and collections of 
 people, apparently strenuous and decided, 
 ffirmed and partook in the festivity. On the 
 sixteenth, the depot of powder in Patrick-street 
 blew up in which there were two men nearly 
 suffocated ; one of whom, in throwing up the 
 window, cut the artery of his arm, and bled to 
 death; the other was taken prisoner. Emmet 
 was so alarmed at the discoveries which this 
 explosion would lead to, that he quitted the 
 
 “ The relentless oppression of the English Government 
 forced the people into habits of temperance—necessity 
 ioade them abstemious—and time reconciled them to 
 •their wholesome esculent, which providentially came, 
 like the manna in the desert, to feed the sojourners in 
 the land of their fathers. 
 
 “ The chain which binds us, is stretched to the ut¬ 
 most limit, and wants but another effort, either of the 
 oppressor or the oppressed* to hurst asunder, and give 
 liberty to Ireland. 
 
JtOBERT IJfWET. 
 
 23 
 
 bouse \n JButterfield-lane, and took up Tils per 
 ]nanent residence at the depot in Mass-lane, 
 He there had a mattress to sleep on, that 
 he might be present night and day to direct 
 und animate the workmen. 
 
 The interval o the seven days ensuing after 
 the explosio was employed by Emmet and 
 his associates, either in deliberating on the 
 propriety of immediately flying to arms, of 
 In concerting the most practicable mode ol 
 commencing their operations. It was ulti¬ 
 mately agreed upon to seize the several 
 depots and arsenals in the vicinity of Dub¬ 
 lin; and, above all, it was universally de¬ 
 termined to gain possession of the Castle, 
 as, in that case it was supposed they could 
 more decidedly influence the public mind, 
 
 ** Misery is only endured where it cannot be obviated. 
 The patient Sampson, who, in his deprivation of strength, 
 turned the mill for his oppressors, buried them in the ruins 
 of their temple, when his powers were restored; and 
 though Ireland, in her weakness, endured the badges of 
 slavery, that is no reason she is calmly to submit, when 
 enabled to cast them off. The aspirations of civilized man 
 after freedom are coeval with his existence. His rights, 
 like the mountain torrents, may be diverted from their 
 original channel, but cannot be effectually impeded in 
 their course. Dams may be raised to stop the coming 
 stream; but, If the congregated waters cannot find ano¬ 
 ther way to the place of their destination, they will buret 
 through every opposition, and overwhelm in destruction 
 *11 the works of lordly and presumptuous man. 
 
 ** To reason upon the political state of this country has 
 i>ng been the propensity of the Irish peasant; and, from 
 fontinualb' thinkum upon that subject, he has at length 
 
24 
 
 THE r,l*£ oP 
 
 oy having the seat of government in their 
 power. 
 
 As the day of attack approached, the greater 
 part of Emmet’s adherents, contemplating their 
 danger, wished to defer the attempt. Emmet, 
 however, was peremptory in the opposite way 
 of thinking. He represented with an impetU’ 
 osity not to be resisted, that the militia were 
 about to be embodied ; that the country would 
 be placed every day in a more unassailable 
 posture, and, by its multiplied measures of de¬ 
 fence, become impregnable. After this confer¬ 
 ence, many of his partisans slunk away, and 
 declined all further participation in the affair; 
 others, however, and those the majority, reso¬ 
 lutely determined to follow the fortunes of their 
 beloved leader, and declared that they would 
 not desert him, although they advanced with the 
 certainty of utter destruction to themselves and 
 
 learned to think right. He not only knows his degraded 
 condition, but is well acquainted with the cause. There 
 is not a subject connected with the country, on which 
 he cannot give an accurate opinion ; he knows, as well 
 as any man in the Castle, the purpose of every measure 
 of government, whether it be to enrich a spendthrift 
 nobleman by a job, or coerce the unfortunate peasantry 
 by an Insurrection Act.” 
 
 During these harangues, Emmet’s fine manly counte¬ 
 nance glowed with an enthusiastic ardour, and he deli* 
 vered himself with as much animated fervour as if he were 
 addressing a numerous but distracted assembly, which 
 he wished to persuade. His words flowed with graccfid 
 fluency, and he combined his arguments with all ti| 
 ears of a man accustomed to abstract discussions. 
 
ROBERT EMMfifi 
 
 25 
 
 to their cause, The die was cast, and all fur¬ 
 ther reflection was repelled by the ardour and 
 firmness of resolution. 
 
 Fortune, on this occasion not to be accuse^ 
 of fickleness, seems never, from his first erm 
 barking on this desperate adventure, to have 
 been, for a single moment, auspicious to the 
 devoted Emmet. His negociation with Dwyer 
 had failed, and a plan, even more specious, and 
 on which he now grounded the most sanguine 
 hopes of success, proved equally fallacious. A 
 part of the plan of general attack determined 
 upon, was to force the batteries and stores at 
 the mouth of the harbour of Dublin, by thr 
 assistance of those working people from th| 
 counties of Wicklow and Wexford, who in tht 
 months of June and July, repaired, in consider¬ 
 able numbers, for the purpose of hay-making, 
 to the neighbourhood of Dublin. The minds ot 
 this class of men appeared by no means more 
 softened, nor their passions less alive to every 
 motive of discontent, whether real or imaginary 
 than they were at the period of the rebellion in 
 1798, which they had principally supported; 
 md the daring conduct of which had prepared 
 and habituated them for similar encounters; 
 their enmities were fierce and vehement; their 
 courage and resolution undoubted; it was 
 therefore natural that they should be selected as 
 most useful and valuable auxiliaries. For some 
 time they had manifested the most cordial con¬ 
 currence ; but on the 22nd of July, the day 
 before that appointed for action, they, for 
 
20 
 
 rim life or 
 
 some cause unknown, formally declared thdl 
 abandonment of the design. They did not, 
 however, accompany their refusal with any dis* 
 covery of the plot. 
 
 For some days prior to the 23rd of July, 
 Emmet remained entirely in his depot, reposing 
 at night upon a mattress thrown upon the ground 
 amid the implements of death which he had 
 there collected. 
 
 His magazine was by no means despicable. 
 It comprised the following warlike imple¬ 
 ments :—451bs of cannon powder, in bundles 
 —eleven boxes of fine powder—one hundred 
 bottles filled with powder, enveloped with 
 musket balls, and covered with canvass—two 
 hundred and forty six hand grenades, formed 
 of ink bottles filled with powder, and encircled 
 with buck shot—sixty two thousand rounds 
 of musket ball cartridge—three bushels of mus¬ 
 ket balls—a quantity of tow mixed with tar 
 and gunpowder, and other combustible matter, 
 for throwing against wood work., vhich when 
 ignited would cause an instantaneous conflagra¬ 
 tion, sky-rockets and other signals, &c.—-and 
 false beams filled with combustibles ; with not 
 less than twenty thousand pikes. 
 
 This super-abundance of ammunition is an 
 evident proof of Emmet having promises of 
 large supplies of men. In which promises he 
 was fatally disappointed, for instead of having 
 a force of thousands at his command, he could 
 only muster a few hundred on the evening of 
 engagement. 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 27 
 
 On the morning of the appointed day for 
 this momentous enterprise the Kildare men 
 were seen directing their hurried steps toward* 
 the capital. They had collected about the de¬ 
 pot in Marshalsea-lane and Thomas-street iu 
 i anusual crowds, when about five o’clock they 
 were persuaded by their officers to return home, 
 rhis with the defection of the Wicklow and 
 Wexford labourers, would have deterred a less 
 ardent spirit than that of Emmet’s from proceed¬ 
 ing. His, though damped, never quailed undei 
 die dangei that this disappointment was likely 
 to bring on him and his followers. 
 
 Towards dusk he directed the distribution 
 "rt* pikes among the waiting crowds in Tho- 
 nas-street; and when all was in readiness, 
 gave the concerted signal by the dischaige of 
 a small piece of ordnance, and letting off a 
 *ky-rocket that could be observed by the whole 
 City. Mr. Emmet at the head of a chosen 
 band, sallied forth from the obscurity of his 
 head quarters. He proceeded at their head as 
 %r as Corn Market, but with numbers dimin¬ 
 ishing at every step. Their progress had been 
 retarded by every excess that could be exer- 
 cis<Kl by an exasperated and armed mob. 
 Regularity and discipline were forgotten in the 
 cry for revenge. Emmet was indefatigable il 
 quelling disorders ; his utmost powers of ad 
 dress were exerted in vain; the unruly crowd 
 ran at every new object of their unsalable rage, 
 The attention of the rere was diverted by Utf 
 arrival of au equipage : a moment’s enquire 
 
n 
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 KrttisfieJ the mob it was that of the lord cliie? 
 justice of Ireland. A halt was instantly cal- 
 /ed ; disorder and tumult prevailed ; the heads 
 of the advancing 1 party immediately returned 
 upon their steps, and the massacre of the 
 venerable Lord Kilwarden was cabed for and 
 committed by some cold-blooded ruffians a- 
 mongst them !* 
 
 * It is universally agreed that the murder of this excel¬ 
 lent man was the unpremeditated act of a ferocious rab¬ 
 ble ; but there are various accounts of their probable 
 motives in wantonly sacrificing so upright and humane a 
 judge to their fury. A popular explanation of this is, 
 that the perpetrators mistook him for another person. 
 There is also an account which admits the mistake in the 
 first instance, but subjoins other particulars which appear 
 efficiently probable; and as some of the facts, of which 
 there is no doubt, reflect the highest honor upon Lord 
 Kilwarden’s memory, the whole shall be given here. 
 
 In the year 1795, when he was attorney-general, a 
 number of young men (all of whom were between the ag-. 
 of fifteen and twenty) were indicted for high treason 
 Upon the day appointed for their trial, they appeared iu 
 the dock, wearing shirts with tuckers and open collars, 
 in the manner usual with boys. When the chief justice 
 Df /he King’s Bench, before whom they were to be tried, 
 game into court and observed them, he called out, “Well 
 Mr Attorney, I suppose you are ready to go on with the 
 trials of these tuckered traitors ?” The attorney-general 
 was ready, and had attended for the purpose ; but in- 
 dignant and disgusted at hearing such language from the 
 judgment seat, he rose and replied, “No my lord, I am 
 not ready ; and,” (added he, in a low tone to one of 
 the prisoner’s counsel who was near him,) u 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 a singl 
 one of these tuckered traitors.’’ lie performed his pr<? 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 It was at this period, it is asserted, that Mr. 
 Emmet, and the other leaders, who had been 
 somewhat more than a'h hour engaged in a task 
 far beyond their powers, retired in despair ai 
 finding all command disregarded, all efforts 
 to produce subordination ineffectual ; and their 
 favourite project of seizing the castle, rejected 
 for the slightest opportunity that occurred of 
 indulging the predatory disposition to rapine 
 and murder of their associates. It has been ur¬ 
 ged in their favour, that shocked and disgusted 
 at the murder of lord Kilwarden, the chiefs in¬ 
 stantaneously came to the resolution of aban¬ 
 doning their unprincipled followers. 
 
 A detachment of the regular army coming 
 up now, commenced a brisk fire on the remain- 
 
 mise, and soon after procured pardons for them all, 
 %pon condition of their expatriating themselves for ever; 
 but one of them obstinately refusing to accept the par¬ 
 don upon that condition he was tried, convicted and ex¬ 
 ecuted. Thus far the fact upon credible authorities: what 
 follows is given as an authenticated report. After the 
 1 tath of this young man, his relatives (it is said) readily 
 , Stening to every misrepresentation which flattered their 
 ljsentment, became persuaded that the attorney-general 
 had selected him alone to suffer the utmost severity of 
 the law. One of these (a person named Shannon) was 
 in insurgent on the 23rd of July, and when Lord Kil- 
 warden hearing the popular cry of vengeance, exclaimed 
 from his carriage, “ It is I Kilwarden, chief justice oi 
 the King’s Bench!” “ Then” cried out Shannon, “ you’re 
 the man that I want!” and plunged a pike into his 
 lordship’s body. 
 
 This story was current among the lower orders in 
 iPublin, who were the most liked v to know the fact 
 
JO 
 
 THE LIFE 01' 
 
 ing insurgents, and obliged *hem, after a shon 
 resistance to seek safety in flight. A party o» 
 «oJdiers stationed on the Coombe, under Lieu¬ 
 tenant Douglas, was attacked by the mob who 
 were retiring from Thomas-street, and made 
 to give way after a severe skirmish. At this 
 attack the bravery of a venerable old man 
 shown conspicuous ; his son was attacked and 
 sorely pressed by the bayonet of one of the 
 soldiers, and would inevitably have been sa¬ 
 crificed, had not the parent, who saw his dan¬ 
 ger, stept in and received the blow intended 
 for the son. 
 
 The soldier suffered the fate he gave : he was 
 oiked instantaneously by the infuriate youth, 
 who retired with agonized feelings, leaving 
 the two bodies side by side—sad mementoes 
 of the effects of bad laws and misgovernment. 
 It was never exactly known the number of lives 
 tost on this night; it is supposed, however, 
 there could not be less than eighty, including, 
 the loss on both sides. Emmet fled to the 
 mountains ; he arrived in time to prevent ' 
 contemplated rising of the insurgents. Imme 
 diately after, he and the other leaders in th 
 conspiracy met in a glen in the Wicklow Moun¬ 
 tains, to consult on plans of future opera¬ 
 tions. Most of them recommended vigorous 
 measures ; and strenuously advised an imme¬ 
 diate attack on Wicklow, Arklow, &c. stating 
 that all the kingdom was ripe for revolt. The 
 time had passed for Emmet to credit such 
 •weeping assertions; and, though he did not 
 
ROBERT EMMET, % 
 
 cntradict his friends, he unhesitatingly cou¬ 
 rt mned the having any further recourse to 
 uos. lities. “ For” said he, “ defeated in our 
 first g^and attempt, all further endeavours must 
 be futile. Our enemies are armed ; our friends 
 art dispirited; and our only hope is now in 
 patience The justice of our cause must one 
 day triun Ui ; and let us not indiscreetly pro- 
 trac. the period by any premature endeavours 
 to accelerate it. No doubt I could, in forty- 
 eight hours, wrap the whole kingdom in the 
 flames of rebellion ; but as I have no ambition 
 beyond the good of my country, I best study 
 her interest, and the interest of freedom, by 
 declining to elevate my name upon the ruin of 
 thousands, and afford our tyrants an apology 
 io draw another chain around unhappy Ireland. 
 
 “ In revolts the first blow decides the con¬ 
 test; we have aimed one; and, missing the 
 mark, let us retire unobserved, and leave the 
 enemy ignorant of the hand which was raised 
 for their destruction. Impenetrable secresy 
 surrounds all our measures; the loss we have 
 sustained is inconsiderable; and, unacquainted 
 with their own danger, and the extent of our 
 resources, the tyrants of Ireland will relapse into 
 false security, and afford us, perhaps sooner 
 than we might imagine, another opportunity to 
 attack the hydra of oppression. Let me there¬ 
 fore, my friends, advise you to act with that 
 prudence which becomes men engaged in the 
 grandest of all causes—the liberation of tbeif 
 lountry. 
 
32 
 
 THE LrfE ©F 
 
 •* Be cautious, be silent: and do not afford 
 jur enemies any ground for either tyranny or 
 mspicion; but above all, never forget that you 
 are United Irishmen —pledged to promote the 
 liberty of your country, by all the means in 
 your power. 
 
 “ I have now relieved my bosom from a load 
 of apprehension ; and in preventing the revolt 
 )f last night from assuming the form of rebel¬ 
 lion, I am conscious of having saved the lives 
 t>f thousands of my fellow countrymen. When 
 die libeller of my name and intentions shall 
 rharge the blood of yesterday to my memory, 
 
 1 hope there will not be wanting some one to 
 recollect that if a little has been shed through 
 ny means, I have prevented one hundred times 
 as much, on which I might have floated to a 
 disreputable notoriety. 
 
 “ Over my future destiny Fate has thrown 
 a veil which mortal eye cannot penetrate. 
 Should I succeed in evading the pursuit of my 
 enemies, you may expect to see me once more 
 armed in the cause of Ireland ; but, should 1 
 fall on the scaffold, let not the coward or the 
 knave intimidate you, from again and again 
 appealing to Heaven in behalf of your rights 
 and liberties by alluding to my recent failure. 
 Oh ! I beseech you, as friends and fellow-pa- 
 Xriots, to believe me, and, in the name of out 
 .ommon country, I charge you to transmit it 
 *o your children, that, had I only one thou¬ 
 sand pounds more, and another thousand men, 
 I had overthrown the temple of despotism, and 
 
ROBERT F.MMkY. 
 
 S3 
 
 given liberty to Ireland. My plan was an ad¬ 
 mirable one ; but there was failure in every 
 part; and from these defects let future patriots 
 learn to prevent similar consequences. Our at¬ 
 tempt will not be unproductive of good ; the 
 government will learn from it, that they wiU 
 never be secure while there is an Emmet in 
 existence ; and the conspirator will see that tern 
 of thousands may know his secret, without even 
 one being found capable of betraying it.-* 
 Gentlemen, you will now look to your ov. a 
 safety; and as for me, I shall do the best I cais. 
 to quit the country, in the hope of again meet* 
 ing you under happier auspices." 
 
 He spoke in a subdued and feeling tone ; 
 and as he bade them all farewell, he appeared 
 deeply affected. After some hesitation his ad¬ 
 vice was acquiesced in ; and the assembly be¬ 
 gan to separate, two and three at a time. 
 
 Emmet was now pressed to make his escape 
 before government obtained information respect¬ 
 ing his place of concealment; an opportunity 
 then offered for his doing so, as several fishing 
 smacks lay off the coast, the owners of whom 
 were insurgents. He replied to his friends who 
 were pressing him—“ I snail follow your ad¬ 
 vice in a few days; but I cannot yet quit Ire¬ 
 land. Excuse my obstinacy; but there is one 
 *.o whom I must bid an eternal farewell, before 
 the terrors of government shall force me into 
 exile. Why should I refuse to acknowledge thv 
 cause ? for I am not ashamed of a weaknetf 
 that compels me to do an act of justice —b<?| 
 
the life o? 
 
 M 
 
 and, if possible, to obtain, forgiveness from a 
 roman, whom I have unintentionally injured 
 —whom I have loved so well, that I must once 
 more see her, hear her, and converse with her 
 though ten thousand deaths awaited on the in¬ 
 terview. You now see, my friends, the cause 
 of my not complying with your advice ; and 
 though you should condemn my notions as ex¬ 
 travagant, I cannot consent to forego my reso¬ 
 lution.” 
 
 The lady to whom poor Emmet was so en¬ 
 thusiastically attached, was the youngest daugh 
 ter of the celebrated Curran; and, if report 
 may be credited, she was every way worthy ot 
 a heart so fond, so gentle, and so noble, as that 
 
 Robert Emmet. 
 
 Emmet returned towards Dublin on this very 
 romantic business. To bring about the wished 
 for interview, he wrote several letters from his 
 lodgings at Harold’s-cross, which he again took 
 on this occasion. 
 
 While anxiously expecting an answer to h» 
 letters, the house he was in was suddenly sur¬ 
 rounded by police officers, headed by Major 
 .Sirr,* who, rushing into the apartment, seized 
 
 * There are numerous anecdotes of this Sirr. Some o' 
 his taking propensities are most remarkable. We can¬ 
 not refrain from giving one, descriptive of the loyalty he 
 professed in taking rogues and rebels ; but “ Othello’s 
 occupation is gone,” he has none but beggars and theit 
 brats wherewith to quench his appetite for seizures and. 
 punishments. Ruf we are hacrvy to see he is new taken 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 33 
 
 Kim us he was sitting down to dinner. The un¬ 
 fortunate Emmet betrayed no tokens of fear 
 or perturbation, but evinced the same calm and 
 iignified aspect which ever distinguished this 
 
 to a very religious course of life ; and it' must be grata* 
 fying to acknowledge his swadling propensity in distri¬ 
 buting very taking tracts. 
 
 “It was at this sad crisis (1796) that Major Sirr, 
 from an obscure individual started into notice and con¬ 
 sequence. It is in the hot-bed of public calamity that 
 iuch inauspicious products are accelerated without be¬ 
 ing matured. From being a town-major, a name scarcely 
 legible in the list of public incumbrances, he became at 
 vnce invested with all the real powers of the most abso 
 ,ute authority. 
 
 “ With this gentleman’s extraordinary elevation began 
 the story of the sufferings and ruin of Hevy. A man 
 was prosecuted by the state ; Hevy, who was accident¬ 
 ally present at the trial, knowing the witness for the 
 prosecution to be a person of infamous character, men¬ 
 tioned the circumstance in court. He was sworn, and 
 on his evidence the prisoner was acquitted. In a day 
 or two after, Major Sirr met Hevy in the street, asked 
 how he dared to interfere in his business ? and swore, 
 by God. that he would teach him how to meddle with ‘ his 
 people.* On the following evening poor Hevy was dog¬ 
 ged in the dark, into some lonely alley—there he was 
 seized, he knew not by whom, nor by what authority, 
 his crime he soon learned, it was treason he had com¬ 
 mitted against the majesty of Major Sirr. He was im¬ 
 mediately conducted to a new place of imprisonment 
 in the castle yard, called the provost. Of this mansion 
 of misery, Major Sandys was the keeper. Here Hev] 
 lay about seven weeks; he was at last discovered among 
 the sweepings of the prison. “ Hevy,” said the major, 
 “ I have seen you ride, I think, a smart sort of a mare 
 •—you cant use her here—you had better give me an or- 
 ler for be* ** .Hevy Induced by hopes and by fear, gave 
 

 LIFE 07 , 
 
 Extraordinary young man. A few days aflel 
 lie was lodged in prison, he wrote Mr. Curran 
 the following ietter. 
 
 the order. The major accepted the order, saying," your 
 courtesy will not cost you much—you are to he sent 
 down to-morrow to Kilkenny, to he tried for your life—■ 
 you will most certainly be hanged—and you can scarcely 
 think that your journey to the other world will be per¬ 
 formed on horse-back.’' Hevy was accordingly trans¬ 
 mitted to Kilkenny, tried by a court martial, and con¬ 
 victed upon the evidence of a person under sentence of 
 death, who had been allured by a proclamation, offering 
 a reward to any man who would come forward and give 
 any evidence against the traitor Hevy. Lord Cornwallis 
 read the tremsmiss of Hevy’s condemnation—his heart 
 recoiled from the detail of stupidity and barbarity.—He 
 dashed his pen across the odious record, and ordered 
 that Hevy should be forthwith liberated. On his return 
 to Dublin, Hevy met Major Sandys, and demanded his 
 mare — e Ungrateful villian,’ says the major, 1 is this the 
 gratitude you show to his majesty and to me, for our 
 clemency to you—you shan’t get possession of the beast.’ 
 Hevy brought an action for the mare ; the major not 
 choosing to come into court, and suggest the probable 
 juccess of a thousand actions, restored the property. 
 
 u Three years had elapsed since the deliverance o( 
 Hevy—the public atmosphere had cleared—the privata 
 destiny of Hevy seemed to have brightened, but tha 
 malice of his enemies had not been appeased. On the 
 8th of September, 1801, Mr. Hevy was sitting in a pub¬ 
 lic coffee house—Major Sirr was there—Mr. Hevy wat 
 'uformed that Major Sirr had at that moment said, thai 
 lie (Hevy) ought to have been hanged. Mr. Hevy was 
 fired at the charge ; he fixed his eye on Sirr, and asked 
 if he had dared to say so ; Sirr declared that he had, 
 and had said truly. Hevy answered, that he was a 
 slanderous scoundrel. At the instant, Sirr rushed upon 
 
ROBERT F.MM1T. 
 
 37 
 
 PROM MR. ROBERT EMMET TO JOHN 
 PHILPOT CURRAN, ESQ. 
 
 ** I did not expect you to b* my counsel. 
 I nominated you, because not to have done so 
 might have appeared remarkable. Had Mr. 
 - . been in town, I did not even wish to 
 
 him, and, assisted by three or four of his satellites, who 
 had attended him in disguise, secured him, and sent 
 him to the castle guard, desiring that a receipt might 
 be given for the villian.—He was sent thither. The 
 officer of the guard chanced to be an Englishman, but 
 lately arrived in Ireland—he said to the bailiffs, * if this 
 was England, I should think this gentleman entitled to 
 bail, but I dont know the laws of this country—howtver 
 I think you had better loosen those irons on his wrist*, 
 or they may kill him/ u 
 
 “ Major Sirr, the defendant, soon arrived, went into 
 his office, and returned with an order which he had writ¬ 
 ten, and by virtue of which Mr. Hevy was conveyed to 
 the custody of his old friend, and gaoler, Major Sandys. 
 Here he was flung into a room of about thirteen feet by 
 twelve; it was called the hospital of the provost;,it 
 was occupied by six beds, in which were to lie fourteen 
 or fifteen miserable wretches, some of them sinking un¬ 
 der contagious disorders. Here he passed the first 
 night without bed or food. The next morning his hu¬ 
 mane keeper, the major appeared. Mr. Hevy demanded 
 why he was so imprisoned, complained of hunger, and 
 asked for the gaol allowance ? Major Sandys replied 
 with a torrent of abuse, which he concluded by saying, 
 your crime is your insolence to Major Sirr; however 
 he disdains to trample on you—you may appease him 
 by proper and contrite submission; but unless yon do, 
 you shall rot where you are. I tell yon this, that V 
 government will not protect us* by God, we will not 
 
lWft UfE oy 
 
 /save seen you; but as lie was not, I wrote to 
 vou to come to me at once. I know that I have 
 done you very severe injury, much greater 
 than I can atone for with my life; that atone* * 
 ment I did offer to make before the privy coun¬ 
 cil, by pleading guilty, if those documents* 
 
 protect them. You will probably (for I know your in- 
 eolent and ungrateful hardiness) attempt to get out by 
 an Habeas Corpus, but in that you will find yourself 
 mistaken as much as a rascal deserves. Hevy was in¬ 
 solent enough to issue an Habeas Corpus, and a return 
 was made on it, ( that Hevy was in custody under a 
 warrant from General Graig, on a charge of high treason.' 
 That this return was a gross falsehood, fabricated by 
 Sirr, I am instructed to assert. The judge, before whom 
 this return was brought, felt that he had no authority to 
 liberate the unhappy prisoner ; and thus, by a most in¬ 
 human and malicious lie, my client was again remanded 
 to the horrid mansion of pestilence and famine. Upon 
 this, Mr. Hevy, finding that nothing else remained, 
 signed a submission dictated by Sandys, was enlarged 
 from confinement, and brought the present action.” 
 '—Extract of Mr. Curran's speech. 
 
 The jury awarded Mr. Ilevy 150Z. damages. 
 
 * Upon the arrest of Mr. Emmet, some papers were 
 found on his person, which showed that subsequent 
 the insurrection, he had corresponded with one of Mr. 
 Curran’s family ; a warrant accordingly followed, as a 
 matter of course, to examine Mr. Curran’s house, where 
 some of l\lr. Emmet’s letters were found, which, toge¬ 
 ther with the documents taken upon his person, placed 
 beyond a doubt his connexion with the late conspiracy, 
 md were afterwards u#cd as evidence upon his trial. 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 39 
 
 were suppressed. I offered more—>1 offered 
 if I was permitted to consult some persons, am 
 if they would consent to an accommodation 
 for saving the lives of others, that 1 would 
 only require for my part of it the suppression 
 of those documents, and that I would abi 
 the event of my own trial. This also was r 
 iected ; and nothing but individual informa¬ 
 tion (with the exception of names) would be 
 taken. My intention was, not to leave the sup¬ 
 pression of those documents to possibility, but 
 to render it unnecessary for any one to plead 
 for me, by pleading guilty to the charge my* 
 self. 
 
 — ■■ ■ ■ 1 —— - ---. »■ i 
 
 At the instance of the attorney-general, Mr. O’Grady, 
 Mr. Curran accompanied him to the privy council. 
 Upon his first entrance there was some indication of the 
 hostile spirit which he had originally apprehended. A 
 noble lord, who at that time held the highest judicial 
 situation in Ireland, undertook to examine him upoR 
 the transaction which occasioned his attendance. To 
 do this was undoubtedly his duty. He fixed his eye 
 upon Mr. Curran, and was proceeding to cross-examine 
 his countenance, when (as is well remembered by the 
 spectators of the scene) the swell of indignation, and 
 the glance of stern dignity and contempt which he en¬ 
 countered there, gave his own nerves the shock whicli 
 £$ had meditated for another’s, and compelled him to 
 Cirink back into his chair, silent and disconcerted at 
 the failure of his rash experiment. With this single 
 exception, Mr. Curran was treated with the utmost 
 deUcawr 
 
40 
 
 THE LIFE or 
 
 ** The circumstances that I am now going to 
 mention, 1 do not state in my own justifica¬ 
 tion. When I first addressed your daughter, 
 I expected that in another week my own fate 
 would be decided. I knew that in case of 
 success, many others might look on me differ¬ 
 ently from what they did at that moment; but 
 l speak with sincerity, when I say that I never 
 was anxious for situation or distinction myself, 
 ind I did not wish to be united to one who was. 
 i spoke to your daughter, neither expecting, 
 nor, in fact, under those circumstances, wish¬ 
 ing that there should be a return of attach¬ 
 ment ; but wishing to judge of her dispositions, 
 to know how far they might be not unfavour¬ 
 able or disengaged, and to know what found¬ 
 ation I might afterwards have to count on. I 
 received no encouragement whatever. She 
 told me she had no attachment for any person, 
 nor did she seem likely to have any that could 
 make her wish to quit you. I staid away till 
 the time had elapsed, when I found that the 
 event to which I allude was to be postponed in¬ 
 definitely. I returned by a kind of infatua¬ 
 tion, thinking that to myself, only, was I giving 
 pleasure or pain. I perceived no progress of 
 attachment on her part, nor any thing in her 
 conduct to distinguish me from a common ac¬ 
 quaintance. Afterwards I had reason to sup¬ 
 pose that discoveries were made, and that I 
 should he obliged to quit the kingdom imme¬ 
 diately ; and I came to make a renunciation 
 of any approach to fne*dshk> that might bav* 
 
UOBIRT EMMET. 
 
 4L 
 
 bwen formed. On that very day, she herselt 
 spoke to me to discontinue my visits; I told 
 her that it was my intention, and I mentioned 
 the reason. I then, for the first time, found, 
 when I was unfortunate, by the manner in 
 which she was affected, that there was a re¬ 
 turn of affection, and that it was too late to re¬ 
 treat. My own apprehensions, also, I afterwards 
 found were without cause, and I remained.— 
 There has been much culpability on my part 
 in all this, but there has also been a great deal 
 of that misfortune which seems uniformly to 
 have accompanied me. That 1 have written 
 to your daughter, since an unfortunate event 
 has taken place, was an additional breach of 
 propriety, for which I have suffered well; but 
 I will candidly confess, that I not only do not 
 feel it to have been of the same extent> but that 
 I consider it to have been unavoidable after 
 what had passed; for though I will not at¬ 
 tempt to justify in the smallest degree my for¬ 
 mer conduct, yet, when an attachment was 
 once formed between us—and a sincerer one 
 never did exist—I feel that, peculiarly circum¬ 
 stanced as I then was, to have left her uncer¬ 
 tain of my situation would neither have weaned 
 her affections, nor lessened her anxiety; and 
 looking upon her as one, whom, if I had lived, 
 I hoped to have had my partner for life, I 
 did hold the removing her anxiety above every 
 other consideration. I would rather have had 
 the affections of your daughter in the back 
 settlements of America, than the first situation 
 
42 
 
 THE LIFE OP 
 
 this country could afford without them. I 
 know not whether this will be any extenuation 
 of my offence—I know not whether will be 
 any extenuation of it to know, that if I had 
 that situation in my power at this moment, I 
 would relinquish it to devote my life to her 
 happiness—I know not whether success would 
 have blotted out the recollection of what I have 
 done—but I know that a man, with the cold¬ 
 ness of death on him, need not be made to feel 
 any other coldness, and that he may be spared 
 any addition to the misery he feels, not for 
 himself, but for those to whom he has left no¬ 
 thing but sorrow.”* 
 
 A special commission was opened to try Em¬ 
 met and nineteen other prisoners in Dublin, on 
 the 31st of August, 1803, under Lord Norbury, 
 Mr. Finucane, and Barons George and 
 Daly. Mr. Standish O’Grady was the attor¬ 
 ney-general. 
 
 Of these nineteen, one was acquitted, and 
 another reprieved; the rest were convicted 
 and executed on the evidence of various wit¬ 
 nesses.f 
 
 *This letter was written in the interval between Mr. 
 Emmet’s conviction and execution. It had neither 
 signature nor date. 
 
 t Not only were rewards of a thousand pounds offered 
 for the information of any of the murderers of Lord 
 Kilwarden, or his neohew, Mr. Wolfe, and for the ap- 
 
'tel'Risft-. 
 
 
 Amongst tlie unfortunate men convvet^i weak? 
 some of the principal associates of Emmet in 
 the Insurrection. Mr. Russel, was the son o/ 
 an officer of reputation in his Majesty’s service, 
 
 prehension of Mr. Russel, but a reward of fifty pounds 
 ibr each of the first one hundred rebels who might be 
 discovered, that were of the number who appeared under 
 arms in Thomas-street on Saturday night, 23rd July. 
 There is no question but that state crimes and conspira¬ 
 cies often render such rewards necessary for the detection 
 of delinquents, and the security of individuals or the 
 state. Widely different is the case of affixing state prices 
 or wages to each conviction as a bait to perjury, which 
 is ever swallowed the most greedily by the most profli¬ 
 gate. Such was the case of the notorious Jemmy 
 O’Brien. Of the like case were two noted informers, 
 Michael Mahaffy, a pedlar, and Ryan his partner. On 
 the 6th of September, Mahaffy gave evidence against 
 Felix Rourke, who was indicted and executed for High 
 Treason, committed on the 23rd of July. Ryan corro- 
 ■ bated all that had been advanced by Mahaffy. These 
 associates were in the Old Mens’ Hospital, Kilmainham 
 prison, on the 24th of October, following : but whether 
 they were confined for their own deeds, or to afford 
 them an opportunity of collecting evidence against state 
 prisoners, of whom a great number were there re-con¬ 
 fined under the Suspicion Act, is not known. They, how¬ 
 ever, quarrelled, and Ryan exclaimed in the presence 
 of several persons :—“ Oh, may my curse , and the curse 
 of my children attend you , Mickey Mahaffy . It was 
 you icho made me swear away the lives of those inno¬ 
 cent men whom 1 never saw , till you marked them out 
 for me” They had deposed against several besides 
 Rourke. To which Mahaffy answered, “ By J ——* 
 so long as they will find £50 [ will swear.” Then, and 
 not tiil then, did those unfortunate men, who were pre*- 
 lent, feel the danger of situation ; their Uvea 9* 
 
<4 
 
 c*r 
 
 and who, ha v ^g retired, enjoyed an honorable 
 retreat in the situation of master of the Royal 
 Hospital for veterans at Kilmainham, near 
 Dublin. He was placed early in the army, 
 and served at Bunker’s hill, and the subsa 
 quent campaigns in North America. After tha 
 peace, he either retired on half pay, or hir 
 corp was reduced. He was affectionate and 
 tender hearted, and possessed every feeling and 
 sentiment of the gentleman. After the arrest 
 of Emmet, Russell introduced himself clandes¬ 
 tinely into Dublin, with a view to rescue his 
 friend, if possible, under favor of some com¬ 
 motion. About two days after his arrival, it 
 became known that some person was myste¬ 
 riously secreted in the immediate vicinity of 
 the Castle. Information to this effect having 
 been conveyed to Major Sirr, that officer pro¬ 
 ceeded to the examination of a house in Par¬ 
 liament-street, where he was found, and to 
 whom Mr. Russell, though well armed, sur¬ 
 rendered without resistance. It was supposed 
 that he was, in this act, influenced by a religious 
 scruple. He was immediately transmitted to 
 Downpatrick, in the North of Ireland, where 
 6e was shortly after brought to trial, and upon 
 ihe clearest evidence of his treason, convicted 
 ifter his trial, he manifested all that wildness 
 
 fie mercy of such perjured hirelings. The scene mad*, 
 I strong sensation throughout the prison, and the next 
 morning M aha fly and Rvan were removed from that 
 apartment, and shortly after sent off entirely. 
 
ROBBUT BUM £9. 
 
 45 
 
 of religious enthusiasm, which had for some 
 time formed the prominent feature of his cha¬ 
 racter. On conviction, he addressed the court, 
 at great length, and with remarkable firmness. 
 He declared his adherence to the political 
 opinions for which he was about to suffer, and 
 touched, in a tender point, the gentlemen of the 
 County of Down, by whom he was surrounded. 
 These gentlemen, although latterly become more 
 anxious to preserve their property than to pre¬ 
 serve the circle of their liberties, had been 
 foremost in the outcry for Parliamentary Re¬ 
 form and Political Independence. Russell 
 reminded them of this circumstance, and de¬ 
 clared that he was doomed to suffer for en~ 
 deavouring to put into execution the lessons 
 imbibed amongst them. 
 
 A man of a different stamp was Dwyer. This 
 man, at the head of a gang of deserters and 
 banditti, had remained in arms from the period 
 of the Rebellion of 1798, obstinately rejecting 
 repeatedly proffered mercy ; and who, dexte¬ 
 rously eluding all pursuit, had sustained himself 
 under the protection of the almost inaccessible 
 fastnesses of the Wicklow Mountains. His 
 party did not ostensibly exceed twenty, but 
 he was supposed to possess unbounded in¬ 
 fluence over the peasants of that district, so 
 that a large body, on any notable undertaking, 
 was within his means of command. Dwyer 
 and his band of outlaws afterwards submitted 
 on the stipulation that their lives should be 
 spared. 
 
48 
 
 THE iife'op' 
 
 Oil Mr. Emmet’s trial, the several facts and 
 circumstances already narrated were fully pro¬ 
 ved. He called no witnesses, and was found 
 guilty. Previous to the judge’s charge to the 
 jury, Lord Conyngham Plunket, who was then 
 King’s Counsel, and conducted the prosecution 
 against Mr. Emmet, made a speech of consi¬ 
 derable length, and in the severest tone of lega. 
 and political asperity, detailed the consequences 
 that would affect all social order, were such 
 opinions as Emmet entertained, allowed to have 
 any countenance from the mildness of the laws, 
 or the mistaken lenity, which is often exer¬ 
 cised by the authority vested in the sacred per¬ 
 son of majesty.* 
 
 * Lord Conyngham Plunket shortly afterwards con> 
 menced proceedings in the Court of King’s Bench against 
 Messrs. Gilbert and Hodges, booksellers, for a libel pub¬ 
 lished in a book, entitled, “ Sketches of History, Poli¬ 
 tics, &c.” The offensive passage wa3 as follows :— 
 
 “ Mr. Plunket is an admirable public speaker, either 
 at the bar or in parliament. This gentleman, however 
 was severely reprobated for his conduct on the trial of 
 Mr. Emmet. Mr. Plunket, who was then only King’s 
 Counsel conducted the prosecution against this unfor¬ 
 tunate young man with a rancour and virulence which 
 shocked and surprised every person acquainted with his 
 obligations to his father and family. Mr. Plunkgt’s rest- 
 sons for this conduct have never been made known, 
 though it injured him very much in public estimation. 
 Crown lawyers have always been of the blood-hound 
 tribe—they seldom lose sight of their prey, either from 
 consideration of gratitude, or humanity. We have an 
 instance of this in the prosecution of Lord Essex, on 
 
ROBE in EM MR. 
 
 Q. 
 
 vVs,,,., Mi. Emmet was put to th* and 
 
 called upon by Lord Norbury to offer what lie 
 had to say why sentence of death and execu¬ 
 tion should not be awarded against him accord¬ 
 ing to law, he rose with great firmness and 
 composure, and delivered a speech of remark 
 
 whom the celebrated Bacon, then Attorney-General, 
 exhausted every opprobrious term in the English lan¬ 
 guage, though this amiable nobleman had been hit 
 greatest benefactor and friend.” 
 
 Lord Conyngham Plunket published a long affidavit, 
 sworn before one of the Justices of the King’s Bench, in 
 which he utterly denied any intimacy having ever existed 
 between himself and any of the family of Doctor Emmet 
 
 The following circumstances, copied from “Sketches 
 of Irish History, by Dr. JVPNevin,” published at New 
 York, in 1807, we lay before our readers, which will 
 enable them to give credit where it is most justly de¬ 
 served. At the same time, they are to observe, that 
 the work had been composed, and given to the w orld as 
 historical facts, by the concurrence of Thomas Addis 
 Emmet , the brother of Robert. The causes which gave 
 existence to the documents we quote, were, that the 
 government prints had maliciously insinuated stories to 
 the prejudice of the honour and character of Arthur 
 O’Connor, Thomas Addis Emmet, and Dr. MJNevis 
 ivhile confined in Kilmainham gaol, which they refuted 
 by the following advertisement, inserted In Saunder\ 
 Nexus Letter :— 
 
 “ Having read, in the different Newspapers, Publica* 
 Jions pretending to be abstracts of the Report of the 
 Secret Committee of the House of Commons, and of 
 \ur depositions before the Committees of the Lords and 
 Commons j we feel ourselves called upon to assure th« 
 public, that they are gross, and, to us, astonishing mis* 
 
48 
 
 titk Lira of> 
 
 %t>le force and ability. His appeal to the memory 
 of liLa parent was most affecting: “ If the spiriu 
 
 representations, not only unsupported by, but, in many 
 instances, directly contradictory to the facts we really 
 stated on those occasions. We further assure our friends, 
 that in no instance did the name of any individual es¬ 
 cape from us; on the contrary, we always refused 
 answering such questions as might tend to implicate 
 any person whatever, conformably to the agreement en¬ 
 tered into by the state prisoners with government. 
 
 Arthur O’Connor. 
 
 Thomas Addis Emmet. 
 
 William James M'Nevik. 
 
 “ The sending forth of this advertisement from thi 
 body of a prison, and authenticated by the names of the 
 parties, left no doubt of the truth of its allegations. A 
 tempest of folly and fury was immediately excited in 
 the House of Commons. Blinded by their rage, the 
 Members of that honourable assembly neglected the 
 obvious distinction between the Newspapers and their 
 Report. They took to themselves the falsehoods that 
 had been repelled. Mr. M‘Naughton and two virulent 
 barristers, Francis Hutchinson, and Conyngham Plun 
 ket , were even clamorous for having the persons who 
 signed the refutation disposed of by a summary execu¬ 
 tion. Plunket had been the bosom intimate of Emmet t 
 the companion of hi* childhood , and the friend of hit 
 youth. Hutchinson afterwards acknowledged that ha 
 was instigated to what he did by the administration, 
 which imitated, in this proceeding, the anoient policy 
 of the English, in making Irishmen the executioners of 
 one another. The conduct of both marks the inhuma* 
 nity and meanness to which Irish gentlemen debased 
 themselves at this period, the better to signalize theii 
 loyalty towards the rulers of wretched Ireland.”** 
 Sketches of Irish history, by Doctor M'Xtcvvn* 
 
&0AAI19 ssmtr* 
 
 49 
 
 of the illustrious dead participate in the concern 
 and cares of those who are dear to them in this 
 transitory life, oh! ever dear, and venerated 
 made of my departed father, look down with 
 scrutiny upon the conduct of your suffering 
 son; and see if I have, even for a moment, de¬ 
 viated from those principles of morality, and 
 patriotism, which it was your care to instil intc 
 my youthful mind, and for which I am now 
 about to offer up my life.” 
 
 In remarking- on the language of the Coun« 
 sel for the Crown, Mr. Emmet said, that “ in 
 their early intimacy he had actually inculcated 
 into his mind those principles, for wi'iish he 
 was now about to offer up his life.” 
 
 On the morning of the day of his execution 
 he wrote the following letter to Mr. Richard 
 Curran :— 
 
 FROM ROBERT EMMET TO RICHARD 
 CURRAN, ESQ. 
 
 “ My dearest riciiard, 
 
 ** 1 find i have but a few hours to live, but 
 if it was the last moment, and that the power 
 of utterance was leaving me, I would thank 
 you from the bottom of my heart for your 
 generous expressions of affection and forgive¬ 
 ness to me. If there was any one in the world, 
 in whose breast my death might be supposed 
 not to stifle every spark of resentment, it 
 might be you—I have deeply injured you— 
 I have injured the happiness of a sister that 
 you love, and who was formed to give happi- 
 
50 
 
 TTTE LIFE OJ 
 
 ness to 67ci y one about her, instead 7>f having 
 her own mind a prey (o affliction. Oh ! Rich¬ 
 ard, I have no excuse to offer, but that I 
 meant the reverse ; I intended as much happi¬ 
 ness for Sarah as the most ardent love could 
 have given her. I never did tell you how 
 much I idolized her :— It was not with a wild 
 or unfounded passion, but it was an attach¬ 
 ment encreasing every hour, from an ad¬ 
 miration of the purity of her mind, and re¬ 
 spect for her talents. I did dwell in secret 
 upon the propect of our union. I did hope 
 that success, while it afforded the opportunity 
 of our union, might be a means of confirm¬ 
 ing an attachment, which misfortune had 
 called forth. I did not look to honours for 
 myself—praise I would have asked from the 
 lips of no man ; but I would have wished to 
 read in the glow of Sarah’s countenance, that 
 her husband was respected. 
 
 “ My love, Sarah ! it was not thus that I 
 thought to have requited your affection. I did 
 hope to be a prop, round which your affections 
 might have clung, and which would nevei 
 have been shaken ; but a rude blast has snap¬ 
 ped it, and they have fallen over a grave. 
 
 “ This is no time for affliction. I have haa 
 public motives to sustain my mind, and I have 
 not suffered it to sink; but there have been 
 moments in my imprisonment, when my mind 
 was so sunk by grief <on her account, that 
 death would have been a refuge. 
 
H0B1RT EMMET, 
 
 m 
 
 u Qod bless you, my dearest Itidhard. I 
 am obliged to leave oft" immediately. 
 
 “ Robert EataiET.” 
 
 Mr. Emmet was executed on the day fol¬ 
 lowing that of his sentence, in Thomas-street, 
 at the head of Bridgefoot-street, opposite Ca¬ 
 therine’s Church. 
 
 Robert Emmet, the lofty-minded patriot—* 
 the amiable enthusiast—the warm-hearted 
 friend, and ardent lover, is no more ! The hand 
 of the executioner extinguished the fire and 
 energy of that soul, which burned for his 
 country's good ; and that tongue, of the purest 
 and sublimest eloquence, is now for ever mute 
 Mistaken youth? thy death has been ignomi¬ 
 nious : but in thy fate there has been so much 
 that challenges attention, and excites regret, 
 that the felon's destiny shall neither deprive 
 thy memory of sympathy, nor thy name of im¬ 
 mortality ! Thy views were doubtless erro¬ 
 neous, but thy intentions, we believe, were 
 honest; at all events, thy short career war¬ 
 rants the supposition, and let us not uncharita. 
 bly conclude otherwise. 
 
 He died as he lived, with heroic fearless¬ 
 ness, and decent fortitude. The amiable 
 though enthusiastic Emmet, however, we hope, 
 has not died in vain. Our rulers must learn 
 from his history, that a people without confi¬ 
 dence is a moral Hydra, never to be deprived 
 of the means of doing mischief. The head of 
 one Rebellion is no lopped oft", than 
 
32 
 
 THE LTTE OF 
 
 another is generated. The Hercules, who is 
 a annihilate the monster, can only be found 
 in that act of wisdom and justice, which is to 
 reconcile the people to their rulers, by making 
 them freemen. 
 
 The fate of Robert Emmet demanded some¬ 
 thing more than tears; and unprofitable as 
 these may have been, we have continued to 
 offer them still to his memory. But let our 
 private sorrows pass—history one day will do 
 him justice. We have thrown our might into 
 the scale in which his reputation yet trembles ; 
 and, inadequate as that may be, it is sincere 
 and impartial. All ye who knew him in “ his 
 hour of pride," go aw* do likewise 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 53 
 
 MISS CURRAN. 
 
 Blie Is far from the land where her young hero sleeps. 
 And lovers are round her sighing ; 
 
 But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, 
 
 For her heart in his grave is lying. 
 
 She sings the wild song of her dear native plains, 
 
 Every note which he loved awaking— 
 
 Ah! little they think who delight in her strains, 
 
 How the heart of the minstrel is breaking. 
 
 He had liv’d for his love, for his country he died; 
 
 They were all that to life had entwin’d him— 
 
 Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, 
 
 Nor long will his love stay behind him. 
 
 Oh ! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, 
 
 When they promise a glorious morrow j 
 They’ll shine o’er her sleep, like a smile from the wmt i 
 From her own lov'd island of sorrow. 
 
 The evening before his death, Miss Curran 
 was ushered into his dungeon to bid him hei 
 eternal farewell. He was leaning in a melan¬ 
 choly mood against the window of the prison, 
 and the heavy clanking of his chains smote 
 dismally on her heart. The interview was 
 bitterly affecting, and melted even the callous 
 soul of the gaoler. As for Emmet himself, he 
 wept, and spoke little; but as he pressed his 
 beloved in silence to his heart, his countenance 
 betrayed his emotions. In a low voice, half 
 choked by anguish, he besought her not to for¬ 
 get him : he reminded her of their former hap¬ 
 piness, of the long past days of their childhood, 
 and concluded by requesting her sometimes to 
 visit the scenes where their infancy was spent, 
 
54 
 
 THE T.TFF, $$ 
 
 And though the world might lepeat his namb 
 with scorn, to cling to his memoiy with affec¬ 
 tion. In parting, she turned round, as if to 
 gaze once more on her widowed love. He 
 caught her eye as she retired; it was but for a 
 moment; and as the door closed on him, it 
 informed her too surely that they had met for 
 the last time on earth, but that they should 
 meet in a better world, where man could not 
 separate them. 
 
 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 dan¬ 
 ger 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 whole soul was occupied by his 
 image ? Let those tell who have had the por¬ 
 tals 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. 
 
 To render her widowed situation more de¬ 
 solate, she had incurred her father’s displea¬ 
 sure by her unfortunate attachment, and was 
 an exile from her paternal roof. But Cot^d the 
 sympathy and offices of friends have reached 
 a spirit so shocked and driven in by horror, 
 she would have experienced no want of conso¬ 
 lation ; for the Irish are proverbially a people 
 
mOBERT EMMET. 
 
 65 
 
 of quicK find 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 tragic story of 
 her love. 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 depths 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 
 fie never so wisely.” 
 
 On the occasion of a masquerade at the Ro¬ 
 tunda, her friends brought her to it. 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 sor¬ 
 row. After strolling through the splendid 
 rooms and giddy crowd, with an air of utter 
 abstraction, she sat herself down on the steps 
 of an orchestra, and, looking about for son*? 
 
viii un ti 
 
 m 
 
 time with a vacant air, that showed insensibi¬ 
 lity to 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 touch¬ 
 ing, it breathed forth such a 60ul of wretch¬ 
 edness, 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 re¬ 
 markable for enthusiasm. It completely won 
 the heart of a brave officer, who paid his ad¬ 
 dresses to her, and thought that one so true to 
 the dead, could rot but prove affectionate to 
 the living. She declined his attentions, for 
 her thoughts w( re irrevocably engrossed by 
 the memory of her former lover. He, how¬ 
 ever, persisted in his suit. He solicited not 
 her tenderness, but her esteem. He was as¬ 
 sisted by her conviction of his worth, and her 
 sense of her own destitute and dependent situ¬ 
 ation, for she was existing on the kindness of 
 friends. In a word, he at length succeeded 
 in gaining her hand, though with the solemn 
 assurance, that her heart was unalterably an¬ 
 other's. 
 
 He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that 
 a change of scene might wear out the remem¬ 
 brance 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 
 
ROBERT EMMET 
 
 SI 
 
 huo lier very soul. She wasted away in a slow, 
 bui hopeless decline, and at length sunk into 
 the grave, the victim of a broken heart. 
 
 Her sorrows are numbered—no longer she weeps ; 
 
 Every pang she endured is requited, 
 
 With endless delight, and in silence she sleeps, 
 
 For in death with her love she’s united. 
 
 Like Sidney he died, but his mem'ry shall live 
 In the bosoms of those who deplored him, 
 
 And pity, her purest of dew-drops shall give 
 To the sorrows of those who adored him. 
 
 For he loved—was beloved ! but, alas ! in his bloon^ 
 The ordeal of fate here sore tried him : 
 
 And his spirit took flight from the world of gloom. 
 
 To that glory which here was denied him. 
 
 From regions of bliss—the high Heaven above— 
 
 Where sorrows can never invade him, 
 
 He saw her distress, and he beckon'd his love 
 To ascend, and with joy she obeyed him. 
 
 And she who is joined to the spirit she mourned. 
 
 Now in bliss, ’tis in vain to deplore her ; 
 
 For her mem’ry shall live in their bosoms inured. 
 
 Who vowed even in death to adore her. 
 
 Whether hero, or lover, or else, matters not, 
 u Other times—other men shall divine him jT 
 Lot him rest with his love, by the world forgot. 
 
 Wo have hearts large enough to enshrine him 
 
THE LIFE OT 
 
 a* 
 
 MY EMMET’S NO MOKE* 
 
 Despair In her wild eye, a daughter of Erin, 
 
 Appeared on the cliff of a bleak rocky shore, 
 
 Loose in the winds flowed her dark streaming ringlets, 
 And heedless she gazed on the drear surge’s roar. 
 Loud rang her harp in wild tones of despairing, 
 
 The time past away with the present comparing, 
 
 And in soul-thrilling strains deeper sorrow declaring, 
 She sang Erin’s woes and her Emmet’s no more. 
 
 “Oh, Erin, my country ! your glory’s departed, 
 
 For tyrants and traitors have stabbed thy heart’s core; 
 Thy daughters have laved in the streams of affliction ! 
 
 Thy patriots have fled, or lie stretched in their gore!! 
 Ruthless ruffians now prowl through thy hamlets for¬ 
 saken— 
 
 From pale hungry orphans their last morsel have taken— 
 The screams of thy females no pity awaken; 
 
 Alas ! my poor country, your Emmet’s no more ! 
 
 u Brave was his spirit, yet mild as the Brahmin, 
 
 His heart bled in anguish at the wrongs of the poor: 
 To relieve their hard sufferings he braved every danger, 
 The vengeance of tyrants undauntedly bore. 
 
 Even before him, the proud titled villians in power, 
 Were seen, though in ermine, in terror to cower, 
 
 But, alas ! he is gone, he has fallen a young flower, 
 They have murdered my Emmit— my Emmet’S re 
 more!** 
 
ROBERT brim. 
 
 69 
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE LATE 
 PLAN OF INSURRECTION IN DUBLIN, 
 
 AND CAUSE OF ITS FAILURE.* 
 
 The plan was comprised under three heads : 
 Points of Attack—Points of Check —and 
 Lines of Defence. 
 
 The points of attack were three—the Pigeou 
 House, the Castle, and the Artillery Barracks 
 at Island Bridge. 
 
 The attack was to begin with the Pigeon 
 House—-number of men 200—the place of as¬ 
 sembly, the Strand, • between Irishtown and 
 Sandymount—the time, low water—the men 
 to divide into two bodies : one to cross by a 
 sand-bank, between the Pigeon House and 
 Light House, where they were to mount the 
 wall; the other to cross at Devonshire wharf, 
 both parties to detach three men with blunder¬ 
 busses, and three with jointed pikes concealed, 
 who were to seize the sentries and the gates for 
 the rest to rush in. Another plan was formed 
 for high water, by means of pleasure or fish- 
 
 • Annexed to the copy from which the above has beet 
 ti anscribed, is the following memorandum, in the hand 
 writing of a gentleman who held a confidential situation 
 under the Irish government.—“ The original of this pa¬ 
 per was delivered by Mr. Emmet on the morning just 
 before he was brought out to execution, in order to be 
 forwarded to his brother, Thomas A t dls Emmbt, at 
 Faria-* 
 
60 
 
 THa LIFE OF 
 
 mg boats, going out in the morning, one by 
 one, and returning in the evening to the dock 
 at the Pigeon House, where they were to land. 
 A rocket from this was to be the signal for tlie 
 other two, viz.:— 
 
 The Castle, the number of men 200. The 
 place of assembly, Patrick-street depot. A 
 nouse in Ship-street was expected, also one 
 *ear the gate. A hundred men to be armed 
 with jointed pikes and blunderbusses, the rest 
 to support them, and march openly with long 
 pikes. To begin by the entrance of two job 
 coaches, hackney coachmen, two footmen,, 
 and six persons inside, to drive in at the upper 
 gate into the yard ; come out of the coaches; 
 turn back and seize the guard (or instead of 
 one of the job coaches, a sedan going in at 
 the same time with two footmen, two chair¬ 
 men and one inside); at the same moment a 
 person was, in case of failure, to rap at 
 Lamprey’s door, seize it and let in others, to 
 come down by a scaling ladder from a window, 
 on the top of the guard-house, while attack* 
 were made at a public house in Ship-street^ 
 which has three windows commanding this 
 guard-house, a gate in Stephen-street, another 
 at the Aungier-street end of Great George's 
 street, leading to the Ordnance, another at the 
 new houses in George's-street, leading to the 
 riding yard, and another over a piece of a 
 brick wall near the Palace-street gate. Scaling 
 ladders for all these. Fire-balls, if neeessary, 
 
KOfiKnf EMMET. 
 
 61 
 
 for the guard-house of the upper gate. The 
 Lord Lieutenant and principal Officer* of 
 Government , together with the bulk of artih 
 Jery, to be sent off, under an escort, to the 
 commander in Wicklow, in case of being 
 obliged to retreat. I forgot to mention, tha 
 the same was to be done with as much of th» 
 Pigeon House stores as could be. Anothe 
 part with some artillery, to come into towi 
 along tne quays, and take post at Carlisle 
 bridge, to act according to circumstances. 
 
 Island Bridge, 400 men. Place of assem¬ 
 bly, Quarry-hole opposite, and Burying* 
 ground. Eight men with pistols, and one with 
 a blunderbuss to seize the sentry walking out¬ 
 side, seize the gates, some to rush in, seize the 
 cannon opposite the gate; the rest to mount on 
 all sides by scaling ladders; on seizing this, 
 to send two cannon over the bridge facing the 
 barrack-road. Another detachment, to bring 
 cannon down James’s-street, another towards 
 Rathfarnham, as before. To each of the flank 
 points when carried, reinforcements to bt 
 sent, with horses, &c., to transport the artil 
 lery. Island Bridge only to be maintainei 
 (a false attack also thought of,Rafter the otheri 
 had been made, on the rere of the barracks, 
 and, if necessary, to burn the hay stores m 
 rere.) 
 
 Three rockets to be the signal that the al» 
 tack on any part was made, and afterwards « 
 rocket of stars m case of victory, a silent oafl 
 of rapid"** ... . 
 
62 
 
 yt/K LtrE of 
 
 Another point of attack not mentioned, 
 Cork-street Barracks; if the officer could sur¬ 
 prise it, and set fire to it; if not, to take post 
 in the house (I think in Earl-street, the street 
 at the end of Cork-street, leading to New-mar- 
 ket, looking down the street with musketry, 
 two bodies of pikemen in Earl-street), to the 
 right and left of Cork-street, and concealed 
 from troops marching in that street. Anothei 
 in (I think Marrowbone-lane) to take them in 
 the iere. Place of assembly, fields adjacent or 
 Fenton-fields. 
 
 Points of Check. —The old Custom-house v 
 300 men, the gate to be shut or stopped with 
 k load of straw, to be previously in the street. 
 The other small gate to be commanded bv 
 musketry, and the bulk of the 300 men to be 
 distributed in Parliament-street, Crane-lane, 
 4id those streets falling into Essex-street, in 
 order to attack them if they forced out. The 
 r ointed pikes and blunderbusses lying under 
 great coats rendered all these surprises unsus¬ 
 pected ; fire balls, if necessary, and a beam oJ 
 rockets. 
 
 An idea also, was, if money had been got 
 to purchase Rafferty’s cheese shop, opposite It* 
 it, to make a depot and assembly; and to min« 
 under and blow up a part of the Custom-house, 
 and attack them in confusion, as also the Cas¬ 
 tle. The miners would have been got also to 
 mine from a cellar into some of the streets 
 through which the army from the barracks must 
 march. The assembly was at the Coal-quay. 
 
*OnF,!lT EMMET. 
 
 (53 
 
 Mary street barracks, sixty men. A house- 
 painter's house, and one equally removed on 
 the opposite side (No. 30 I believe), whose 
 fire commands the iron gate of the barracks, 
 without being exposed to the fire from it, to 
 be occupied by twenty-four blunderbusses: the 
 remainder, pikemen, to remain near Cole’s- 
 lane or to be ready, in case of rushing out, 
 to attack them. Assembly, Cole’s-lane mar¬ 
 ket, or else detached from Custom-house 
 body. 
 
 The corner house in Capel-street (it was 
 Killy Kelly’s), commanding in Ormond-quay, 
 and Dixon, the shoemaker’s (or the house 
 beyond it), which open suddenly on the flank 
 of the army, without being exposed to their fire, 
 to be occupied by blunderbusses:—assembly 
 detached from Custom-house body. 
 
 Lines of Defence. —Beresford-street has 
 six issues from Church-street, viz., Coleraine- 
 street, King-street, Stirrup-lane, Mary’s-lane, 
 Pill-lane, and the Quay. These to be chained 
 in the first instance, by a body of chainmen; 
 double chains and padlocks were deposited: 
 and the sills of the doors marked. The block¬ 
 ade to be afterwards filled up ; that on the 
 Quay, by bringing up the coaches from the 
 stand, and oversetting them, together with the 
 butchers’ blocks from Ormond-market. The 
 houses over the chains to be occupied with 
 hand-grenades, pistols, and stones. Pikemen 
 to parade in Beresford-street, to attack, in¬ 
 stantly, any person *&“*♦ ,4 %bt penetrate ; the 
 
Tlf* LIFE OF 
 
 64 
 
 number 200. Assembly, Smitfifiela (Tepot, 
 where were 800 pikes for reinforcements. The * 
 object was, to force the troops to march to¬ 
 wards the Castle, by the other side of the water, 
 where the bulk of the preparations and men to 
 receive them were. 
 
 Merchant’s Quay. In case the army, after 
 passing the Old Bridge, marched that way, 
 Wogan’s house, and a Birmingham ware¬ 
 house next to it, to be occupied with mus¬ 
 ketry, grenades, and stones; also, the lea¬ 
 ther crane at the other end of the quay; 9 
 beam to be before the crane, lying across the 
 Quay, to be fired at the approach of the ene¬ 
 my’s column. A body of pikemen, in Wine- 
 tavern-street, instantly to rush on them in 
 front ; another body in Cook-street to do the 
 same, by five lanes opening on their flank, and 
 by Bride-street in their rere. Another beam 
 in Bridge-street, in case of taking that rout, 
 and then the Cook-street body to rush out in¬ 
 stantly in front. A beam in Dirty-lane; main 
 body of pikemen in Thomas-street to rush on 
 them instantly on firing the beam. The body 
 on the Quay to attack on rere ; in case of re¬ 
 pulse, Catherine’s Church, Market-hor je, and 
 two houses adjacent, that command tl.dt street, 
 occupied with musketry. Two rocket batte¬ 
 ries near the Market-house, a beam before it; 
 body of pikemen in Swift’s-alley and that 
 range, to rush on their flank, after the beam 
 was fired, through Thomas-court, Vicar-street, 
 and three other issuet; the corner houaea 
 
HOBF.HT EMMET. 
 
 65 
 
 of these issues to be occupied by stones and 
 grenades; the entire of the othe r side of the 
 street to be occupied with stones, &c., the flank 
 of this side to be protected by a chain at 
 ,!ames’s-gate, and Guinness’s orays, &c. ; the 
 rere of it to be protected from Cook-street, in 
 case the officer there failed, by chains across 
 Rainsford-street, CrUly’s-yard, Meath-street, 
 Ash-street, and Francis-street. The Quay 
 body to co-operate by the issues before menti¬ 
 oned (at the other side), the chains of which 
 would be opened by us immediately. In case 
 of further repulse, the houses at the corner of 
 Cutpurse-row, commanding the lanes at each 
 side of the Market-house, the two houses in 
 High-street, commanding that open, and the 
 corner houses of Castle-street, commanding 
 Skinner-row, (now Christ Church-place) to be 
 successively occupied. In case of a final re¬ 
 treat, the routes to be three : Cork-street, to 
 Templeogue, New-street, Rathfarnham, and 
 Camden-street department. The bridges of 
 the LifFey to be covered six feet deep with 
 boards full of long nails bound down by two 
 iron bars, with spikes eighteen inches long, 
 driven through them into the pavement, to 
 stop a column of cavalry, or even infantry. 
 
 The whole of this plan was given up by me 
 for the want of means, except the Castle and 
 lines of defence, for I expected three hundred 
 Wexford, four hundred Kildare, and two 
 hundred Wicklow men, all of whom had 
 fought before, surprises at this 
 
€6 THK LIFE OF 
 
 rtde of the water, and by the ^reparations 
 for defence, so as to give time to the town to 
 assemble. The county of Dublin was also to 
 act at the instant it began ; the number of 
 Dublin people acquainted with it I understood 
 «o be three or four thousand. I expected two 
 S/ousand to assemble at Castigan’s mills—the 
 grand place of assembly.. The evening before 
 the Wicklow men failed through their officer. 
 The Kildare men who were to act (particu¬ 
 larly with me) came in ; and at 5 o’clock went 
 off again from the Canal harbour, on a report 
 that Dublin would not act. In Dublin itself 
 it was given out, by some treacherous or cow¬ 
 ardly person, that it was postponed till Wed¬ 
 nesday. The time of assembly was from six 
 till nine ; and at nine, instead of two thousand, 
 there were eighty men assembled. When we 
 came to the Market-house they were diminished 
 to eighteen or twenty. The Wexford men 
 did assemble, I believe, to the amount 
 promised, on the Coal-quay; but three hun¬ 
 dred men, though they might be sufficient to 
 begin on a sudden, were not so, when go¬ 
 vernment had ffive hours’ notice by express 
 from Kildare. 
 
 Add to this, the preparations were, from an 
 Unfortunate series of disappointments in 
 ftioney, unfinished, scarcely any blunderbusses 
 bought up. 
 
 The man who was to turn the fuzes and 
 rammers for the beams fo-rgot them, and went 
 off to Kildare to brim* mem nod did not re- 
 
HOT&EIW fcBSWBT. 
 
 m 
 
 iurn till the very day. The consequence was 
 that all the beams were not loaded, nor 
 mounted with wheels, nor the train bags, of 
 course, fastened on to explode them. 
 
 From the explosion in Patrick-street I lost 
 the jointed pikes which were deposited there; 
 and the day of action was fixed on before this, 
 and could not be changed. 
 
 I had no means for making up for their loss 
 but by the hollow beams full of pikes, which 
 struck me three or four days before the 23d. 
 From the delays in getting the materials they 
 were not able to set about them till the day 
 before ; the whole of that day and the next, 
 which ought to have been spent in arrange¬ 
 ments, was obliged to be employed in work. 
 Even this, from the confusion occasioned by 
 men crowding into the depot from the coun¬ 
 try, was almost impossible. 
 
 The person who had the management of the 
 depot, mixed, by accident, the slow matches 
 that were prepared with what were not, and all 
 our labour went for nothing. 
 
 The fuzes for the grenades he had also laid 
 by, where he forgot them, and could not find 
 them in the crowd. 
 
 The cramp irons could not be got in time 
 from the smiths, to whom we could not com¬ 
 municate the necessity of dispatch; and the 
 scaling ladders were not finished (but one). 
 Money came in at five o’clock, and the trusty 
 men of the depot, who alone knew the town, 
 were obliged to be sent out to buy up blunder* 
 
68 
 
 «?ME LIFE OF 
 
 busses, for the people refused t© act without 
 some. To change the day was impossible, for 
 I expected the counties to act, and feared to 
 lose the advantage of surprise. The Kildare 
 men were coming in for three days ; and after 
 that it was impossible to draw back. Had I 
 another week; had I one thousand pounds ; 
 had I one thousand men, I would have feared 
 nothing. There was redundancy enough in 
 any one part to have made up, if complete, for 
 deficiency in the rest; but there was failure in 
 all—plan, preparation, and men. 
 
 I would have given it the respectability of 
 insurrection, but I did not wish uselessly to 
 spill blood : I gave no signal for the rest, and 
 hey all escaped. 
 
 I arrived time enough in the cpuntry to 
 prevent that part of it, which had already 
 gone out with one of my men, to disarm the 
 neighbourhood from proceeding. I found 
 that by a mistake of the messenger Wicklow 
 would not rise that night; I sent off to pre¬ 
 vent it from doing so the next as it intended. 
 It offered to rise even after the defeat, if I 
 wished it, but I refused. Had it risen Wex¬ 
 ford would have done the same. It began to 
 assemble, but its leader kept it back till he 
 inew the fate of Dublin. In the state Kil¬ 
 dare was in it would have done the same. I 
 *as repeatedly solicited by some of those who 
 ■were with me to do so, but I constantly re¬ 
 used. The more remote counties did noj 
 Jie for want of money to send them the signal 
 Agreed on. 
 
!K>bE8iT KWPT9CT. 
 
 I know how men without candour will pro 
 nounce on this failure, without knowing one ol 
 the circumstances that occasioned it. They 
 will consider only that they predicted it; 
 whether its failure was caused by chance, or 
 by any of the grounds on which they made 
 their prediction, they will not care—they will 
 make no distinction between a prediction ful- 
 llled and justified—they will make no com* 
 promise of errors—they will not recollect that 
 they predicted also that no system could be 
 formed—that no secrecy nor confidence could 
 be restored—that no preparations could be 
 made—that no plan could be arranged—that 
 no day could be fixed without being instantly 
 known at the Castle—that government only 
 waited to let the conspiracy ripen, and crush 
 it at their pleasure—and that on these grounds 
 only did th#y predict its miscarriage. The 
 rery same iffi&en that after success would have 
 .flattered Will now calumniate. The very 
 same Iteen that would have made an offering 
 of unlimited segacity at the shrine of victory, 
 will not now be content to take back that 
 portion that belongs of right to themselves, 
 but would violate the sanctuary of misfortune 
 and strip her of that covering that candoui 
 would have left hei 
 
 R. E. 
 
(~ 0 > 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 It is now thirty-seven years since the subject 
 of this affecting* Memoir existed ; yet still is 
 the recollection of his worth and talents e\n 
 thusiastically cherished in the hearts of 1 it 
 countrymen. Of the thousands upon thou¬ 
 sands who have fled Rom the pressure of 
 English misrule, and who have emigrated- 
 and still emigrate to America, we see the finest 
 materials in the world, and the best hearty 
 lost to their country for the want of due culti¬ 
 vation at home. However these may have 
 suffered from adversity and debasement in 
 the land of their birth, they still venerate the 
 genius of it and her sons, and keeping ever 
 present to their thoughts the noble instances 
 it affords of talent, probity, and honour, they 
 so revere themselves as never to swerve from 
 their origin. 
 
 On the first of January, 1834, there was a 
 club formed,in the city of New York, to 
 commemorate the memory of Robert Emmet, 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and the different 
 Irish patriots who suffered for their unfortu¬ 
 nate country. On each night of meeting they 
 drink to the memory of those brave, noble, 
 and high-minded men in solemn silence ; and 
 on the 20th of September, being the day on 
 which poor Emmet forfeited his life, there is 
 a general meeting of the members summoned 
 to attend, the club-room and chair hung in 
 Humming, and memory 
 
SO IlRfllAllKS. 
 
 7 \ 
 
 drank in silence in the most solemn manner. 
 Since the club was formed, they have been 
 presented with a large and striking likeness 
 of the subject of this memoir, done in oil, in 
 a most superbly gilt frame, taken from an 
 original in the possession of the late Counsel¬ 
 lor Emmet. 
 
 These affecting memorials of sympathy for 
 their native soil, give a happy inspiration to 
 all that is just and noble in morals and con¬ 
 duct, and helps to bind and purify the affec¬ 
 tions of Irishmen to each other in one bond of 
 union and love. 
 
 It is not to our commemorated countryman 
 alone that this work is devoted ; it is not his 
 excellence alone that it records, but it turns 
 the mind back in melancholy contemplation 
 upon those national virtues which he emi¬ 
 nently exhibited,—a love of liberty for all 
 Irishmen, a love of independence for all Ire¬ 
 land, that neither time could diminish, that 
 violence could not intimidate, and disaster 
 could not subdue. 
 
 It is the historical fate of patriotism, when 
 exerted m advance of general intelligence, to 
 attract the vengeance of alarmed power, while 
 it receives only the timid assent of hesitating 
 friends. Persecuted on one side, unsustained 
 on the other, the monumental fame of genius 
 alone survives, and like the splendid ruins in 
 the Palmyrene desert, gains a solemn sublimity 
 from the surrounding desolation. 
 
 Must prudence, then hold patriotism back 
 
¥4' CONCLUDING RBMARft*. 
 
 '4tntil all are duly prepared for the excmse of 
 l&eir rights ? until they learn, without a pre¬ 
 ceptor, to remedy their wrongs, and to use 
 their strength with advantage, unaided by the 
 tounsel or guidance of a friend ? Tyranny 
 would never blench at redress so long deferred, 
 which no man could hope to see in his own 
 day. For all good works there must be found 
 fortitude to begin, and the messenger of truth 
 has to preach the way of salvation though mar¬ 
 tyrdom were in its train. It was not to remain 
 for ever unemployed that the defensive feeling 
 which surges against oppression was planted 
 by Providence in the human heart. We are 
 instruments in its hands for purposes we do not 
 see ; but this much we know, that when it per¬ 
 mitted the tyrant it ordained the patriot, and 
 that the antagonist powers which preserve the 
 health and symmetry of our physical frame are 
 repeated in our intellectual nature, and given 
 to repress the growth of moral evil. Whether 
 we fall on serene or stormy days imports every 
 ihing to our individual happiness; but even in 
 «ir sufferings we may be establishing the rights 
 $ our country. 
 
THE TRIAL 
 
 OF 
 
 ROBERT EMMET, 
 
 UPON AN 
 
 INDICTMENT FOR HIGH TREASON 2 
 
 Held, under a Special Commission, at the Sessions' 
 House , Oreen-street, on Monday , 19 th of 
 September , 1803. 
 
 Judges Present —LORD NORBURY, MR. BA¬ 
 RON GEORGE, and MR. BARON DALY. 
 
 MR. STANDISIi O’GRADY— Attorney-Generau 
 
 To the indictment, charging him with com¬ 
 passing the deposition 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 sub 
 stance, to the following effect, by 
 
 THE ATTORNEY GENERAL. 
 
 My Lord and Gentlemen of the Jury, 
 
 It is my duty to state, as concisely as 1 
 can, the nature of the charge which has been 
 
 p 
 
74 
 
 THE TRIAL OP 
 
 preferred against 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 con¬ 
 sideration : 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 imaginations 
 of enthusiasts; perhaps an extravagant love 
 of liberty might for a moment supersede a 
 rational understanding, and might be in¬ 
 duced, for want of sufficient experience or 
 capacity, to look for that liberty in revolution. 
 But it is not the road to liberty. It throws 
 die 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 
 net admit of a momentary explanation. 
 
 Gentlemen, the prisoner stands indicted un¬ 
 der a very ancient statute—the 25th of Edward 
 III., and the indictment is grounded on three 
 clauses. The first relate* to compassing and 
 
ROBERT BMMEY. 
 
 75 
 
 imagining the death of the King— ne second 
 in adhering to his enemies—and the third in 
 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 considera¬ 
 tion, and may require upon 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 hi? 
 person. But any conspiracy, which has for 
 its object an alteration of the laws, constitu¬ 
 tion, and government of the country by force, 
 uniformly leads to anarchy and general de* 
 struction, 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 hia 
 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 oi 
 the evidence which will be produced to sup. 
 port them, will be stated at large to you by the 
 court, and, therefore, it will not be Necessary 
 
76 
 
 THE TRIAL OF 
 
 §>r me now to trespass upon the publin tfme 
 by a minute examination of them. 1 
 
 Gentlemen, having heard the charge against 
 the prisoner, you will naturally feel 'that your 
 duty will require an investigation into two dis¬ 
 tinct points: first, whether there has, or has not 
 existed a traitorous conspiracy and rebellion 
 for the purpose of altering the law, the consti¬ 
 tution, and the government of the country by 
 force?—And, secondly, whether the prisoner 
 has in any, and 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, 1 do 
 not think it unreasonable to indulge a san¬ 
 guinary hope that a continuance of the same 
 conduct, upon the part of government, and of 
 the same exertions upon the part of the peo¬ 
 ple, will long preserve the nation free, happy, 
 and independent.* 
 
 * When the Attorney-General exercised his official 
 duty in persuading the juries to shed blood, he waa 
 credited for accuracy of statement, as he was for per¬ 
 spicuity of argument and strength of proof. That 
 law officer’s address to the juries emphatically breathed 
 the spirit and wishes of the government. Mr. Standiah 
 
ROBERT 'EMMET. 
 
 11 
 
 Gentlemen, upon former occasions, persons 
 were brought to the bar of this couit impli¬ 
 cated in the rebellion in various though infe¬ 
 rior degrees. But if I am rightly instructed, 
 we have now brought to the bar of justice not 
 a person who had 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 
 months before 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 whiciy he might well have learned 
 the necessary effects of revolution; and, 
 therefore, if he be guilty of treason, he em¬ 
 barked in it with his eyes open, and with a 
 previous knowledge of all its inevitable con 
 
 O’Grady had only been Attorney-General since the 8th 
 of the preceding June. Sir John Stewart, his predeces¬ 
 sor in that office, finding that as a gentleman he could 
 no longer submit to the overgrown powers of Mr. Un¬ 
 der-Secretary Marsden, had resigned; and Mr. O Grady, 
 for whom Mr. Marsden had contrived a sinecure place 
 of third counsel to the Commissioners of Revenue, (worth 
 £2,000 per annum, without ostentation or responsibility) 
 was installed with a grateful and thorough understand¬ 
 ing of the feelings and powers of his benefactor and pa¬ 
 tron. Under these impressions, on the trial of Mr. 
 Emmet, he played the ei**omi&st of a weak, double, and 
 eurnrised 
 
78 
 
 THE TftlAL OP 
 
 sequences. But, notwithstanding, I am in¬ 
 structed that he persevered in fomenting a re¬ 
 bellion, which I will be bold to say is unexam¬ 
 pled in any country, ancient or modern. A re¬ 
 bellion which does not complain of any exist¬ 
 ing grievances, which does not flow from any 
 immediate oppression, and which is not pre- 
 liended to have been provoked by our mild and 
 gracious King, or by the administration em¬ 
 ployed 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 recall the memory of griev¬ 
 ances which, if they ever existed, must have 
 long since passed away. 
 
 You will recollect, gentlemen, that in the 
 large proclamation there was a studied endea¬ 
 vour 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 somewhat a 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 oY 
 your follies and crimes,—already have you 
 been duped to the ruin of the country in th< 
 legislative union with its tyrants ; attempt not 
 go opposition; return from the paths of de¬ 
 lusion ; return to the arms of your country¬ 
 men, who will receive and hail your repent¬ 
 ance. Countrymen of all descriptions, lei 
 
&OtiE|y ( 
 
 '/J 
 
 Rnt WtfW mrfrnT Alltl Concert. nt\ J. - 
 
 tholic, Protestant, and Presbyteiian, are equally 
 and indiscriminately embraced in the benevo¬ 
 lence of our object .” I will not apply to this 
 passage all the observations that press upon my 
 mind, because I am sincerely desirous that oni 
 feeling and one spirit should animate us all. 1 
 cannot but lament that there should be so many 
 sectaries in religion, but trust in God there will 
 he found amongst us but one political faith. 
 But this manifesto is equally unfortunate in 
 ! ivery instance in which it prescribes modera¬ 
 tion. Attend to the advice by which it insti¬ 
 gates the citizens of Dublin : “ In a city each 
 street becomes a defile, and each house a bat¬ 
 tery ; 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 o i 
 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 intoxica¬ 
 tion and to ensure that calmness of mind 
 which is so necessary to qualify them for the 
 doption of this salutary advice, it desires 
 tnat they will “ remember against whom they 
 fight, their oppressors for 600 years, remem¬ 
 ber their masacres., their tortures ; remem bei 
 your murdered friends, your burned houses 
 your violated females.” Thus affecting u 
 
#0 THE TftiAl CF 
 
 recommend moderation, every expedient to 
 esorted to which could tend to inflame san¬ 
 guinary men to the commission of sanguinary 
 deeds. 
 
 Gentlemen, you must by this time be some¬ 
 what anxious to know the progress of the ge¬ 
 neral, 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 commence¬ 
 ment of the following week; they arrived 
 there at a late hour; the general was stiD 
 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 
 Marold’s-cross in which he formerly resided ; 
 *md assuming the old name of Hewitt; he 
 arrived there the Saturday after the rebellion. 
 
 Having remained a month in this conceal¬ 
 ment, information was had, and Major Sirr, to 
 vhose activity and intrepidity the loyal citizens 
 ;f Dublin are under much obligation, did con¬ 
 fer an additional, and a great one, by the zea¬ 
 lous discharge of his duty on this, occasion. 
 $e came by surprise on the house having sent 
 
OBERT EMMET. 
 
 SI 
 
 a countryman v o give a single rap, and the 
 door being opened the Major rushed in, and 
 taught 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 
 'vas Cunningham, that he had that day ar 
 rived in the house, having been upon a visit 
 with some friends in the neighbourhood : the 
 Major then left him in charge of another per¬ 
 son, and went to inquire of Mrs. Palmer con¬ 
 cerning him ; she said he was a very proper 
 vouncr man, of the name of Hewitt, 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, but having been struck with 
 a pistol by the person who had the custody of 
 him, he was by that means detained. Imme¬ 
 diately 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 ef¬ 
 fort, got into the garden through the parlour 
 window, but was at length overtaken by the 
 Major, who, at the peril of his own life, for¬ 
 tunately secured him. When the Major apo* 
 logised for the roughness with which he was 
 obliged to treat him,, the prisoner replied, “all 
 was fair in war .” 
 
 Gentleme»» you have the life of a fellow 
 
 * 2 
 
82 
 
 THE TRIAL OF 
 
 subject in your hands, and by the peculiar be¬ 
 nignity of our laws, he is presumed to be an 
 innocent man until your verdict siiail find him 
 guilty. 
 
 If upon the evidence you shall be so satis¬ 
 fied that this man is guilty, you must dis¬ 
 charge your duty to your king, your country 
 and to your God. If, on the other hand, no¬ 
 thing shall appear sufficient to affect him, we 
 shall acknowledge that we have grieviously of¬ 
 fended him, and will heartily participate in 
 the common joy that must result from the ao 
 quittal of an innocent man. 
 
 examination of witnesses. 
 
 Joseph Rawlins, Esq., being sworn, de¬ 
 posed to a knowledge of the prisoner, and re¬ 
 collected 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-exami¬ 
 nation, 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 pri¬ 
 soner’s conversation the witness had reason to 
 believe that he highly condemned Buonaparte’s 
 conduct and government. 
 
 Mr. George Tyrrel, an attorney, proved the 
 execution, in tha month a*' June last, of the 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 IM 
 
 lease o* Butterfield* Rath 
 
 *arnham, flom ‘TWicnael Frayne to the pri¬ 
 soner, who assumed on the occasion the name 
 of Ellis. Mr. Tyrrell was one of the sub¬ 
 scribing witnesses to the lease, and a person 
 named William 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 in the most se¬ 
 questered manner, and apparently anxious of 
 concealment. 
 
 ' John Fleming, i native of the county of 
 Kildare, sworn : deposed that on the 23d of 
 July, and for the year previous thereto, he had 
 been ostler at the 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 em¬ 
 ployed 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 wit¬ 
 ness 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 plac* on 
 Saturday* the 16th of July)* The witness 
 
*115 TRIAL 
 
 m 
 
 opened the gate of the inn-yard, which opener 
 into Marshal-lane, to let out Quigley,- wlief 
 he saw the prisoner accompanied by a person 
 of the name of Palmer ; the latter got son* 
 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 ha¬ 
 ving the chief authority. He heard the pri¬ 
 soner read a little sketch, as the witness called 
 It, purporting that every officer, non-commis¬ 
 sioned officer, and private, should have 
 equally everything 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 were to take Ire¬ 
 land 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 
 show it to all present, (here the witness identi¬ 
 fied 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 July, witness saw the prisoner dressei 
 in the uniform above described, with white 
 Waistcoat and pantaloons, new boots and 
 
aOBKSlT EMMET. 
 
 $5 
 
 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 did not get it, to disguise hi* 
 uniform, as he said, until he went to the party 
 that was to attack the Castle. Quigley and a 
 person named Stafford had uniforms like that 
 of Emmet, but had only one epaulet. Quig¬ 
 ley had a white feather, and Stafford a green 
 one. Stafford was a baker in Thomas-street. 
 About nine o’clock the prisoner drew his 
 sword, and called out to “ Come on, my 
 boys.” He sallied out of the depot, accompa¬ 
 nied by Quigley and Stafford and about fifty 
 men, as well as he could judge, armed with 
 pikes, blunderbusses, pistols, &c. They en¬ 
 tered Dirty-lane, and went from thence into 
 Thomas-street. The prisoner was in the centre 
 of the party. They began to fire in Dirty- 
 Jane, and also when they got into Thomas- 
 street. The witness was 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 gene¬ 
 ral. 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 de¬ 
 pot by the name of Graham. 
 
 Terence Colgan, the tailor, named in the 
 foregoing evidence, being sworn, deposed that 
 on the Sunday previous to the insurrection hf 
 came to towp Lucan, where he lived, 
 
THE TRIAL OF 
 
 86 
 
 having met with a friend they went to Otr> 
 Ion’s the White Bull Inn, in Thomas-streef 
 and drank, until the witness, overcome with 
 liquor, fell asleep, when he was conveyed in 
 this state of insensibility into the depot i'n 
 Marshal-lane, and when he awoke the nex 
 morning he was set to work making gree?>> 
 jackets and white pantaloons. He saw the 
 prisoner there, by whose directions everything 
 was done, and who, he understood was tliij 
 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 Farrell sworn : deposed that as he 
 was passing through Marshal-lane, between 
 the hours of nine and ten o’clock on the even¬ 
 ing of Friday, the 23d of July, he stopped 
 before the malt stores or depot on hearing a 
 noise therein, which surprised him, as he con¬ 
 sidered it a waste house. Immediately the 
 door opened, and a man came forth, who 
 caught him, asked him what he was doing 
 there? The witness was then brought into 
 the depot, and again asked what brought him 
 theie, or had he been ever there before ? He 
 said he had not. They asked him did he 
 know Graham ? He replied he did not.—<. 
 One of the persons then said that witness was 
 a spy, and called out to “ drop him imme¬ 
 diately which the witness understood that 
 thesy meant to shoot him. They brought him 
 
HOBERT EMMET* 
 
 87 
 
 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 orougiiL 
 the same time, and the witness, having looked 
 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 under¬ 
 stood that Quigley was the person who went 
 by the name of Graham. Here witness iden¬ 
 tified the prison&r 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 23d, 
 and was made to assist at the different kinds 
 of work. 
 
 He assisted in taking boards from 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 23d he s&w three men 
 
flifi TRIAL O* 
 
 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 make his escape. 
 
 On his cross-examination, in which the in¬ 
 terrogatories were 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 coun- 
 :ies 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 fror? 
 the Court, the witness said that he gave infor¬ 
 mation of the circumstance deposed in hi*, 
 evidence, next morning, to Mr. Ormsby, in 
 Thomas-street, to whom he was steward. 
 
 Sergeant Thomas Rice proved the procla¬ 
 mation 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 23d of July ; that having gone to 
 the depot in Marshal-lane, he found there se¬ 
 veral small proclamations, addressed to tin 
 citizens of Dublin, and which were quite wet. 
 He identified one of them. The witness also 
 identified the desk which the prisoner used tn 
 the depot. Having **mained about a quartet 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 89 
 
 of an hour in the depot, he committed to 
 Major Greville 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 
 Captain Evelyn. 
 
 Captain Henry Evelyn sworn: deposed 
 having been at the rebel depot 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 shown 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, quartermaster-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, near Dublin,” and began 
 with, “My dearest Robert.” It bore a foreign 
 post-mark. 
 
 Edward Wilson, Esq., recollected the e*- 
 
90 
 
 TWB IffUAL OP. 
 
 \ 
 
 plosion or grm|j»o-v<cler which Wo*. p\aee in Pa- 
 trick-street, previous to th* 2,3d of July; it 
 took place on the 16th. lie went there and 
 found an apparatus for making gunpowder; 
 was certain that it was gunpowder exploded. 
 Proved the existence of a rebellious insurrec¬ 
 tion ; as did also Lieutenant Brady. The lat¬ 
 ter added that on an 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, de¬ 
 posed 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 lav 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 
 6ome 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 
 tome pistols* The number of blunderbusses 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 92 
 
 he believed were equal to the number of per¬ 
 sons, who, on being collected at breakfast, 
 amounted to fourteen. Here he identified the 
 prisoner as one of those who were in the bed 
 with him. 
 
 The witness then further stated that the pri¬ 
 soner, on going away in the evening, put on 
 a coat with a great deal of lace and tassel'’ 
 (as he expressed it). There was another per' 
 son in a similar dress : they wore on their de¬ 
 parture great coats over these. The party 
 left his house between 8 and 9 o’clock in the 
 evening, and proceeded up the hill. The 
 next morning the witness found under the 
 table, 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 farther up the hill from Doyle’s, 
 proved that a party of men, 15 in number, and 
 whom she described similar to that of the pre¬ 
 ceding witness, came to her house on the night 
 of the Tuesday immediately after the insurrec¬ 
 tion. Three of them wore green clothes, orna¬ 
 mented 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 
 ner house about 9 o’clock the following night. 
 
 John Robinson, constable of the barony of 
 Upper Cross, corroborated the testimony of 
 the witness Doyle, relative to the small procla¬ 
 mation which he identified. 
 
0* 
 
 THE TftrAfc OF 
 
 Joarfih f hner sworn.—Deposed that lie was 
 clerk to JV1 1 . Colville, and lodged at his mo¬ 
 ther’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, 
 \nd when he was arrested, he went by the 
 name of Hewitt. 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, Hes¬ 
 sian boots, and a black frock. Those who vi¬ 
 sited the prisoner inquired for him by the name 
 of Hewitt. At the time he was arrested, there 
 was a label on the door of the house, expressive 
 of its inhabitants. It was written by the wit¬ 
 ness, 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 
 23rd of July, and described the dress he wore 
 on that occasion, part of which w T ere the waist¬ 
 coat, pantaloons, and boots already men¬ 
 tioned, and particularly his coat, which, he 
 said, was a very handsome uniform. The 
 prisoner had also a conversation with the wit¬ 
 ness about a magazine, and expressed much 
 regret at the loss of the powder in the depot. 
 The proclamations were likewise, mentioned 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 93 
 
 i 
 
 by tne 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 
 ,iot 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 At¬ 
 torney-General’s statement) addressed to the 
 citizens of Dublin, were read. 
 
 Major Henry Charles Sirr, sworn and ex¬ 
 amined. Deposed to the arrest of the pri¬ 
 soner, as follows :—I went, in the evening of 
 the 25th of August, to the house of one Pal¬ 
 mer. 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, ran directly into the ‘back 
 parlour. 1 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 m charge to the man who accompanied 
 me, Rnd went into the next .room to ask the 
 
94 
 
 THE TRIAL OF 
 
 woman and her daughter about him; they toW 
 me his name was Hewitt. I went back, am 
 Asked how long he had been there ? He said 
 fee 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 
 
 ed he was some person of some importance. 
 
 When I first went in, there was a paper on the 
 chair,* which I put into my pocket. I then 
 
 * The paper was as follows :— 
 
 u It may appear strange, that a person avowing him¬ 
 self to be an enemy of the present government, and en¬ 
 gaged in a conspiracy for its overthrow, should presume 
 to suggest an opinion to that government on any part of 
 its conduct, or could hope that advice, coming from 
 such authority, might be received with attention. The 
 writer of this, however, does not mean to offer an opi¬ 
 nion on any point on which he must, of necessity, feel 
 differently from any of those whom he addresses, and 
 on which, therefore, his conduct might be doubted. 
 His intention is to confine himself entirely to those 
 points on which, however widely he mny differ from 
 them in others, he has no hesitation in declaring, that 
 as a man he feels the same interest with the merciful 
 part, and as an Irishman, with at least the English part 
 of the present administration ; and, at the same time, 
 to communicate to them, in the most precise terms, 
 that line of conduct which he may hereafter be com¬ 
 pelled to adopt, and which, however painful it must 
 tader any circumstances be, would become doubly so if 
 «e was not conscious of having tried to avoid it by the 
 dost distinct notification. On the two first of these 
 joints, it is not the intention of the undersigned, for the 
 IttUMm he has already mentioned, to do more than statq 
 
HOBRUT EM MKT.' 
 
 went to the canal bridge ~rr>r a guard, having 
 desired them to be in readiness as I passed by. 
 1 planted a sentry ov r er him, and desired the 
 non-commissioned officer to surround the 
 
 what government itself must acknowledge—that of the 
 present conspiracy it knows (comparatively speaking) 
 nothing.—That instead of creating terror in its enemies, 
 or confidence in its friends, it will only serve, by the 
 scantiness of its information, to furnish additional 
 grounds of invective to those who are but too ready ts 
 
 jisure it for a want of intelligence, which no segacity 
 could have enabled them to obtain. That if it is not 
 able to terrify by a display of its discoveries, it cannot 
 hope to crush by the weight of its punishments. Is it 
 only now we are to learn, that entering into conspiracy 
 exposes us to be hanged ? Are the scattered instances 
 >nich will now be brought forward necessary to exern 
 plsfy the statute ? If the numerous and striking er.anr.^ 
 pies which have already preceded were insufficient— \i 
 government can, neither by novelty of punishment, nor 
 the multitude of its victims, impress us with terror, can 
 it hope to injure the body of a conspiracy so impenetra¬ 
 bly woven as the present, by cutting off a few threads 
 from the end of it! 
 
 “ That with respect to the second point, no system, 
 however it may change the nature, can effect the pe¬ 
 riod of the contest that is to take place ; as to which- 
 the exertions of United Irishmen will be guided only bj 
 their own opinion of the eligibility of the moment fol 
 effecting the emancipation of their country. 
 
 “ That administration-’’ 
 
 ) 
 
 ■fhe following paper was found in the depot, in Em¬ 
 met’s hand-writing 
 
 “ I have little time to look at the thousand difficulties 
 which still He between me and the completion of my 
 
 Wish e s " t h a t thos* dificulties will likewise disappear, 
 
THE TRIAL OF 
 
 9 * 
 
 house with sentries, while I searched it. I then 
 examined Mrs. Palmer and took down her ac¬ 
 count 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 to 
 fire, and then pursued myself, regardless of 
 the order. The sentry snapped, but the mus¬ 
 ket 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 brought 
 to 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. 
 M‘Nally and Mr. Plunket, as to the latter’s 
 
 I have ardent, and, I trust, rational hopes ; but if it is 
 not to be the case, I thank God for having gifted me 
 with a sanguine disposition. To that disposition I run 
 from reflection; and if my hopes are without founda¬ 
 tion, if a precipice is opening undtV my feet, from which 
 duty will not suffer me to run back, I am grateful for 
 that sanguine disposition, which leads me to the brink, 
 and throws me down, while my eyes are still raised 
 to the vision of happiness that my fancy formed in the 
 ate." 
 
ROBERT EMMET. 
 
 97 
 
 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. Plun- 
 ket. 
 
 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 
 impartially explaining the law. 
 
 The Jury, without leaving the box, pro¬ 
 nounced the prisoner—Guilty. 
 
 The judgment of the Court having been 
 prayed upon the prisoner, the Clerk of tne 
 Crown, in the usual form, asked him “ what 
 he had to say, why judgment of death and 
 execution should n^ be awarded against him, 
 according to law ?” 
 
 MR. EMMET’S REPLY. 
 
 “ My Lords — 1 am asked what have I to 
 say, why sentence of death should not be pro¬ 
 nounced on me, according to law ? I have 
 nothing to say that can alter your predeter¬ 
 mination, nor that it will become me to say, 
 with any view to the mitigation of that sen¬ 
 tence which you are to pronounce, and I must 
 abide by. But I have that to say which inte¬ 
 rests me more than life, and which you have 
 laboured to destroy. I have much to say, why 
 
 P 
 
98 
 
 THE TR 1 A L. Of 
 
 \ 
 
 > 
 
 my reputation should be rescued from the loat 
 of false accusation and calumny which has been 
 cast upon it. I do not imagine that, seated 
 where you are, your mind can be so free from 
 impurity, as to receive the least impression 
 from what I am going to utter. I have no 
 nopes that I can anchor my character in th« 
 breast of a court, constituted and trammelled 
 as this is. I only wish, and that 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 
 storms by which it is buffetted. 
 
 “ Was I only to suffer death, after being ad¬ 
 judged guilty by your tribunal, I should bow 
 in silence, and meet the fate that awaits me 
 without a murmur; but the sentence of the 
 av which delivers my body to the executioner, 
 will, through the ministry of the law, labour 
 m its own vindication, to consign my charac- 
 .er to obloquy; for there must be guilt some¬ 
 where, whether in the sentence of the Court, 
 or in the catastrophe, must determine. 
 
 “ A man in my situation has not only to en¬ 
 counter the difficulties of fortune, and th 
 force of poAver over minds which it has cor 
 rupted or subjugated, but the difficulties d 
 established prejudice ! The man dies, but hh 
 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. 
 
R01H/tT f.mmet- 
 
 99 
 
 u Wlieu my spirit shall be wafted to a more 
 friendly port—when my shade shall have joined 
 the bands of those martyred heroes who have 
 ghed their blood on the scaffold and in the field 
 in defence of their country and of virtue, this 
 ss 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 domination by blasphemy o/ 
 the Most High—which displays its power over 
 man, as over the beasts of the forest—which 
 sets man upon his brother, and lifts ibis hand, 
 in the name of God, against the throat of his 
 fellow, who believes or doubts a little more, or 
 a little less, than the government standard-—a 
 government which is steeled to barbarity by 
 the cries of the orphans, and the tears of the 
 widows it has made. 
 
 (Here Lord Norbury interrupted Mr. Em¬ 
 met, saying, that the mean and wicked enthu¬ 
 siasts, who felt as he did, were not equal to 
 the accomplishment of their wild designs.) 
 
 “ I appeal to the immaculate God,—I swear 
 bv the Throne of Heaven, before which I mus' 
 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 
 conviction which I have uttered, and by no 
 other view than that of their cure, and the 
 emancipation of their country from the super- 
 inhuman oppression under which she has so 
 
i no 
 
 THE TRIAL OF 
 
 long, and too patiently travailed ; and that I 
 confidently hope that, wild and chimerical as 
 it may appear, there is still union and strength 
 in Ireland to accomplish this noblest of enter¬ 
 prises. 
 
 “ Of this I speak with confidence, of inti¬ 
 mate knowledge, and with the consolation that 
 appertains to that confidence. Think not, my 
 Lords, I say this for the petty gratification of 
 giving you a transitory uneasiness. A man who 
 never yet raised his voice to assert a lie, will 
 not hazard his character with posterity, by as¬ 
 serting 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 li¬ 
 berated, will not leave a weapon in the power 
 of envy, or a pretence to impeach the probity 
 which lie 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 was 
 not intended for your Lordship, whose situa¬ 
 tion I commiserate rather than envy—my ex¬ 
 pressions were for my countrymen. If there 
 is a true Irishman present, let my last words 
 «?heer him in the hour of his 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 convict¬ 
 ed, to pronounce the sentence of the law. I 
 
.ROBERT EMMEt.' 
 
 101 
 
 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 opinions 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 un¬ 
 fortunate prisoner, whom your policy, and not 
 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 sys¬ 
 tem of angry justice, to bow a man’s mind by 
 humiliation, to the purposed ignominy of the 
 scaffold; but worse to me than the purposed 
 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. 
 _ my Lord, area Judge. I am the sup¬ 
 posed 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 mv 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 
 
102 
 
 THE TRIAL 0? 
 
 on my body, condemn my tongue to si’encd 
 and my reputation to reproach? Your execu¬ 
 tioner may abridge the period of my existence; 
 imt, while I exist, I shall not forbear to vin¬ 
 dicate my character and 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 shew a collective 
 universe, who was engaged in the most vir¬ 
 tuous actions, or attached by the purest mo¬ 
 tives—my country’s oppressors, or-” 
 
 (Here he was interrupted, and told to lis¬ 
 ten 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 his trial, 
 by charging him with ambition, and attempt¬ 
 ing to cast away, for a paltry consideration, 
 the liberties of 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 Lords, that form prescribes that 
 you should ask the question—the form also 
 presents the right of answering. This, no 
 doubt, may be dispensed with, and so might 
 
ROBRR emmet. 
 
 103 
 
 the whole ceremony of the trial, since sentence 
 was already pronounced at the Castle befove 
 the jury were impanelled. Your Lordships 
 are but the Priests of the Oracle, and 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 ambi¬ 
 tion ? And is this the mode by which a tribu¬ 
 nal of justice reconciles contradiction ? No ? 
 I am no emissary ; and my ambition was, te 
 hold a place among the deliverers of my coun¬ 
 try ; 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 
 my ambitiont Oh! 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 amongst the proudest of your 
 oppressors? My country was my idol. To it 
 l sacrifice every selfish, every endearing sen¬ 
 timent ; and for it I now offer up myself, O 
 God. No, my Lords; I acted as an Irish¬ 
 man, determined on delivering my country 
 from the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting ty- 
 «ann,v* and the more galling yoke of a domestic 
 
104 
 
 Tit* TRIAL OP 
 
 factum , which is its joint partner and perpe 
 trator in the patricide for the ignominy ex¬ 
 isting with an exterior of splendour , and a 
 conscious depravity. It was the wish of my 
 ijeart to extricate my country from this dou- 
 dy rivetted despotism —I wished to place her 
 independence beyond the reach of any power 
 on earth. 1 wished to exalt you to that proud 
 station in the world. 
 
 Connexion with France was, indeed, in¬ 
 tended, but only as far as mutual interest 
 would sanction or require. Were they to as¬ 
 sume 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 peo¬ 
 ple, I should oppose them to the utmost of my 
 strength. Yes! my countrymen, I should 
 advise you to meet them upon 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. I would animate my country¬ 
 men 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 dis¬ 
 pute every inch of ground, burn every blade 
 of grass, and the last intrenchment of liberty 
 should be my grave. What I could not do 
 myseK if I should fall, l should leave as a 
 
ROkEW# EMMET. 
 
 <h«t charge to my countrymen to accomplish ; 
 because I should feel conscious that life, any 
 more than death, is unprofitable, when a fo¬ 
 reign nation holds my country in subjection. 
 
 “ But it was not as an enemy that the suc¬ 
 cours of France were to land. I looked, in¬ 
 deed, for the assistance of France; but 1 
 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 pocure an aid which, by its ex¬ 
 ample, would be as important as its valour : 
 disciplined, gallant, pregnant with science and 
 experience; who would perceive the good, 
 and polish the rough points of our character. 
 They would come to us as strangers, and leave 
 us as friends, after sharing in our perils, and 
 elevating our destiny. 
 
 “ These were my objects: not to receive new 
 task-masters, but to expel old tyrants. It was 
 for these ends I sought aid from France; be¬ 
 cause France, even as an enemy, could not be 
 more implacable than the enemy already in the 
 bosom of my country.” 
 
 (H ere he was interrupted by the Court.) 
 
 “ I have been charged with that importance 
 in the emancipation of my country, as to be 
 considered the key-stone of the combination o 
 Irishmen ; or, as your Lordship expressed i: 
 
 “ the life and blood of the conspiracy.*’ Yo$ 
 
TUR THTAL OP 
 
 do me honour over much ; you have given to 
 the subaltern all the credit of a superior. There 
 f.re men engaged in this conspiracy, who are 
 not only superior to me, but even to your own 
 conceptions of yourself my Lord—men, before 
 the splendour of whose genius and virtues, I 
 should bow with respectful deference, and who 
 would think themselves disgraced by shaking 
 your blood-stained hand.” 
 
 (Here he was interrupted.) 
 
 “ What, my Lord, shall you tell me, on the 
 passage to that scaffold, which that tyranny (of 
 which you are only the 'intermediary executi 
 oner) has erected for my murder, that I am ac¬ 
 countable 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 mus 
 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 
 hfe; 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 shed in your un¬ 
 hallowed ministry, in one great reservoir 
 your Lordship might' swim in it. 
 
 (Here the Judge interfered.) 
 
 “ Let no man dare, when I am dead, t© 
 charge me with dishonour; let no man attaint 
 my memory, by believing that I could have en 
 gaged in any cause but that of my countryV 
 liberty and independence; or, that I co?M 
 have b* *>n{ the pliant 'smion of power, £ 
 
siOBEJtT EMMET. 
 
 T?tf7 
 
 the oppression or miseries of my country. The 
 proclamation of the Provisional Government 
 speaks for our views ; inference can be tor- 
 tured from it, to countenance barbarity or de¬ 
 basement at home, or subjection, humiliation, 
 or treachery from abroad ; I would not have 
 submitted to a foreign oppressor, for the same 
 reason that I would resist the foreign and do¬ 
 mestic oppressor. In the dignity of freedom, 
 I would have fought upon the threshold of my 
 country, and its enemy should enter only by 
 passing over my . lifeless corpse. And, am I, 
 who lived but for my country, and who have 
 subjected myself to the dangers of the jealous 
 and watchful oppressor, and the bondage of 
 the grave, only to give my countrymen their 
 rights, and my country her independence, am 
 I to be loaded with calumny, and not suffered 
 to resent and repel it ? No, God forbid ! 
 
 (Here Lord Norbury told Mr. Emmet that 
 his sentiments and language disgraced his fa¬ 
 mily and his education, but more particularly 
 his father, Doctor Emmet, who was a man, if 
 alive, that would not countenance such opi¬ 
 nions)- To which Mr. Emmet replied :— 
 
 “ If the spirits of the illustrious dead partici¬ 
 pate in the concern and cares of those who are 
 dear to them in this transitory life, oh! eve? 
 dear and venerated shade of my departed fa¬ 
 ther, look down with scrutiny upon the con¬ 
 duct of your suffering son ; and see if I have, 
 even for a moment, deviated from those prin¬ 
 ciple* of morality and oatriotism which it vsm 
 
108 
 
 THE TRIAL, &C 
 
 your care to instil into my youthful mind, and 
 for which I am now about to offer up my life. 
 
 “ My Lord you are impatient for the sacri¬ 
 fice. The blood which you seek is not con¬ 
 gealed by the artificial terrors which surround 
 your victim—it circulates warmly and unruffled 
 through the channels which God created for 
 noble purposes, but which you are now bent to 
 destroy, for purposes so grievous, that the) 
 cry to heaven—be yet patient! 1 have but a 
 
 few words more to say—I am going to my cold 
 and silent grave—my lamp of life is nearly ex¬ 
 tinguished—ay race is run—the grave opens 
 to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. I 
 have but one request to ask at my departure | 
 hom this world, it is— the charity of its 
 silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for J 
 ms no man who knows my motives dare now jM 
 vindicate them, let no prejudice or ignorance CM 
 asperce them. Let them and me rest in obscu 
 rity and peace; and my tomb remain unin¬ 
 scribed, and my memory in oblivion, until other 
 times and other men can do justice to my cha¬ 
 racter—when my country takes her place 
 among the nations of the earth, then , and not 
 till then, let my epitaph be written.—-I have 
 done. 
 
 
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