_My Lord, and Gentlemen of the Jury_:
It is my duty to state, as concisely as I can, the nature of the charge
which has been 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 consideration;
because it is not only the highest crime of which at all times the
subject can be guilty, but it receives, if possible, additional
aggravation when we consider the state of Europe, and the lamentable
consequences which revolution has already brought upon it.
Perhaps at former periods some allowance might be made for the heated
imagination of enthusiasts; perhaps an extravagant love of liberty,
might for a moment supersede a rational understanding, and might be
induced, for want of sufficient experience or capacity, to look for that
liberty in revolution. But it is not the road to liberty. It throws the
mass of the people into agitation, only to bring the worst and the most
profligate to the surface. It originates in anarchy, proceeds in
bloodshed, and ends in cruel and unrelenting despotism.
Therefore, Gentlemen, the crime of which the prisoner stands charged,
demands the most serious and deep investigation, because it is in its
nature a crime of the blackest die, and which, under all existing
circumstances, does not admit of a momentary explanation.
Gentlemen, the prisoner stands indicted under a very ancient statute—the
25th of Edward III.—and the indictment is grounded on three clauses. The
first relates to compassing and imagining the death of the king—the
second in adhering to his enemies—and the 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 considerations, and may require on my
part a short explanation.
In the language of the law, compassing the death of the king, does not
mean or imply necessarily, any immediate attack upon his person. But any
conspiracy, which has for its object an alteration of the laws,
constitution, and government of the country by force, uniformly leads to
anarchy and general destruction, and finally tends to endanger the life
of the king. And, therefore, where that design is substantiated, and
manifested by overt acts, whenever the party entertaining the design,
uses any means to carry his traitorous intentions into execution, the
crime of compassing and imagining the death of the king is complete.
Accordingly, gentlemen, this indictment particularly states overt acts,
by which the prisoner disclosed the traitorous imagination of his
heart—and, if it shall be necessary, those particular overt acts, and
the applicability of the evidence which will be produced to support
them, will be stated at large to you by the court, and therefore it will
not be necessary for me now to trespass upon the public time, by a
minute examination of them.
Gentlemen, having heard the charge against the prisoner, you will
naturally feel that your duty will require an investigation into two
distinct points: first, whether there has, or has not existed a
traitorous conspiracy and rebellion for the purpose of altering the law,
the constitution, and the government of the country by force?—And,
secondly, whether the prisoner has in any, and in what degree,
participated in that conspiracy and rebellion?
Gentlemen, I do not wish to undertake to speak in the prophetic: but
when I consider the vigilance and firmness of his majesty’s government,
the spirit and discipline of his majesty’s troops, and that armed valour
and loyalty which, from one end of the country to the other, has raised
itself for the purpose of crushing domestic treason, and, if necessary,
of meeting and repelling a foreign foe, I do not think it unreasonable
to indulge a sanguinary hope, that a continuance of the same conduct
upon the part of government, and of the same exertions upon the part of
the people, will long preserve the nation free, happy and independent.
Gentlemen, upon former occasions, persons were brought to the bar of
this court, implicated in the rebellion, in various, though inferior
degrees. But if I am rightly instructed, we have now brought to the bar
of justice, not a person who has been seduced by others, but a gentleman
to whom the rebellion may be traced as the origin, the life, and soul of
it. If I mistake not, it will appear that some time before Christmas
last, the prisoner, who had visited foreign countries, and who for
several 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 which he might well
have learned the necessary effects of revolution; and therefore, if he
be guilty of treason, he embarked in it with his eyes open, and with a
previous knowledge of all its inevitable consequences.—But,
notwithstanding, I am instructed that he persevered in fomenting a
rebellion, which I will be bold to say, is unexampled in any country,
ancient or modern. A rebellion which does not complain of any existing
grievances, which does not flow from any immediate oppression, and which
is not pretended to have been provoked by our mild and gracious king, or
by the administration employed by him, to execute his authority. No,
gentlemen, it is a rebellion which avows itself to come, not to remove
any evil which the people feel, but to recal the memory of grievances,
which, if they ever existed, must have long since passed away.
You will recollect, gentlemen, that in the large proclamation there was
a studied endeavour to persuade a large portion of the people that they
had no religious feuds to apprehend from the establishment of a new
government. But the manifesto upon which I am now about animadverting
has taken a somewhat different course, and has revived religious
distinctions at the very moment in which it expresses a desire to
extinguish them.
“Orangemen, add not to the catalogue of your follies and crimes, already
have you been duped to the ruin of the country, in the legislative union
with its tyrant; attempt not an opposition; return from the paths of
delusion; return to the arms of your countrymen, who will receive and
hail your repentance. Countrymen of all descriptions, let us act with
union and concert; all sects, Catholic, Protestant, Presbyterian, are
equal and indiscriminately embraced in the benevolence of our object?” I
will not apply to this passage all the observations that press upon my
mind, because I am sincerely desirous that one feeling and one spirit
should animate us all. I cannot but lament that there should be so many
sectaries in religion, but trust in God there will be found amongst us
but one political faith. But this manifesto is equally unfortunate in
every instance in which it prescribes moderation. Attend to the advice
by which it instigates the citizens of Dublin: “In a city each street
becomes a defile and each house a battery; impede the march of your
oppressors, charge them with the arms of the brave, the pike, and from
the windows and roofs hurl stones, bricks, bottles, and all other
convenient implements, on the heads of the satellites of your tyrant,
the mercenary, the sanguinary soldiery of England.”
Having thus roused them, it throws in a few words of composure,
“repress, prevent, and discourage excesses, pillage, and intoxication;”
and to ensure that calmness of mind which is so necessary to qualify
them for the adoption of this salutary advice, it desires that they will
“remember against whom they fight, their oppressors for 600 years:
remember their massacres, their tortures; remember your murdered
friends, your burned houses, your violated females.” Thus affecting to
recommend moderation, every expedient is resorted to, which could tend
to inflame sanguinary men to the commission of sanguinary deeds.
Gentlemen, you must by this time be somewhat anxious to know the
progress of the general, who escaped the memorable action which was to
be fought, and the first place in which I am enabled to introduce him to
you, is at the house of one Doyle, who resides near the Wicklow
mountains. There the general and his companions took refuge, at the
commencement of the following week: they arrived there at a late hour;
the general was still dressed in his full uniform, with suitable lace
and epaulets, and a military cocked hat, with a conspicuous feather. Two
other persons were also decorated in green and gold. From thence they
proceeded to the house of Mrs. Bagnall, and returned to the city of
Dublin. What became of the other persons is foreign to the present
inquiry, but we trace the prisoner from those mountains to the same
house in Harold’s Cross, in which he formerly resided, and assuming the
old name of Hewit; he arrived there the Saturday after the rebellion.
Having remained a month in this concealment, information was had, and
Major Sirr, to whose activity and intrepidity the loyal citizens of
Dublin are under much obligation, did confer an additional, and a
greater one, by the zealous discharge of his duty on this occasion. He
came by surprise on the house, having sent a countryman to give a single
rap, and the door being, opened, the Major rushed in, and caught Mrs.
Palmer and the prisoner sitting down to dinner; the former withdrew, and
the Major immediately asked the prisoner his name, and, as if he found a
gratification in assuming a variety of titles, he said his name was
Cunningham, that he had that day arrived in the house, having been upon
a visit with some friends in the neighbourhood; the Major then left him
in charge of another person, and went to inquire of Mrs. Palmer
concerning him; she said he was a very proper young man of the name of
Hewit, and that he had been in her house about a month: the Major at
this moment heard a noise, and he found that the prisoner was
endeavouring to make his escape, and having been struck with a pistol by
the person who had the custody of him, he was by that means detained;
immediately further assistance was called in from a neighbouring
guard-house, and an additional sentry was put upon him. The Major then
again proceeded further to interrogate Mrs. Palmer, when the prisoner
made another effort, got into the garden through the parlour window, but
was at length overtaken by the Major, who at the peril of his own life,
fortunately secured him. When the Major apologized for the roughness
with which he was obliged to treat him, the prisoner replied, “all is
fair in war.”
Gentlemen, you have the life of a fellow subject in your hands, and by
the benignity of our laws, he is presumed to be an innocent man until
your verdict shall find him guilty.
If upon the evidence you shall be so satisfied that this man is guilty,
you must discharge your duty to your king, your country, and to your
God. If, on the other hand, nothing shall appear sufficient to affect
him, we shall acknowledge that we have grievously offended him, and will
heartily participate in the common joy that must result from the
acquittal of an honest man.