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THE 
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLES PHILLIPS, ESQ. 
 
 V \ 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE 
 
 BAR, AND ON VARIOUS PUBLIC OCCASIONS, 
 
 IN 
 
 IRELAND AND ENGLAND. 
 
 EDITED BY HIMSELF. 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED, 
 
 A LATE SPEECH, PUBLISHED IN NO OTHER EDITION, 
 
 TOGETHER WITH A 
 
 LETTER TO GEORGE IV. 
 
 AND AN 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OP THE LAST MO- 
 MENTS AND SPEECH OP 
 
 ROBERT EMMETT. 
 
 ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
 
 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY E. PECK & CO. 
 
 1825. 
 

 
 5v 
 
6 V 2^ 
 
 THE 
 
 FOLLOWING SPEECHES 
 
 ARE; BY PERMISSION, 
 DEDICATED TO 
 
 WITH 
 
 THE MOST SINCERE RESPECT 
 AND AFFECTION 
 
 OP THEIR 
 
 AUTHOR* 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Pace 
 
 Preface, - 7 
 
 Speech delivered at a public dinner given to Mr. 
 Finlay, by the Roman Catholics of the town 
 and county of Sligo, - - - - 17 
 
 Speech delivered at an aggregate meeting of the 
 
 Roman Catholics of Cork, - - - - 3T 
 Speech delivered at a dinner given on Dinas Isl- 
 and, in the Lakeof Killarney, on INlr. Phillip's 
 health being given, together with that of Mr. 
 Payne, a young American, - - - 45 
 Speech delivered at an aggregate meeting of the 
 Roman Catholics of the county and city of 
 
 Dublin, ' 51 
 
 Petition referred to in the preceding speech, 
 drawn by Mr. Phillips, at the request of the 
 Roman Catholics of Ireland, - - - 71 
 The address to H. R. H. the Princess of Wales, 
 drawn by Mr. Phillips, at the request of the Ro- 
 man Catholics of Ireland, - - - 7^ 
 Speech delivered by Mr. Phillips, at a public din- 
 ner given to him by the friends of civil and re- 
 ligi)us liberty in Liverpool, - - - 77' 
 Speech in the case of Guthrie v. Sterne, deliver- 
 ed in the court of common pleas, Dublin, Sf 
 A2 
 
\1. COXTEXTi. 
 
 Speech in tlic case of O'Mullan v. ^M^Korkill, de- 
 livered in the county court house, Galway, Hi 
 
 Speech in the case of Connaghton v. Dillon, de- 
 livered in the county court house of Roscom- 
 mon, ------- 133 
 
 Speech in the case of Creighton v, Townsend, 
 delivered in the court of common pleas, Dub- 
 lin, . - 147 
 
 Speech in the case of Blake r.Wilkins, delivered 
 in the county court house, Galway, - l6l 
 
 A character of Napoleon Buonaparte, down to 
 the period of his exile to Elba, - - 179 
 
 Speech in the case of Browne v. Blake, for crim. 
 con. delivered in Dublin, July 9, 1817, 185 
 
 Speech in the case of Fitzgerald v. Kerr, 205 
 
 Speech at the SligD county meeting, - 225 
 
 Speech in the case of Sharpe v. Vialls, delivered 
 in the court of king's bench, London, - 233 
 
 Speech delivered at the annual meeting of the 
 British and Foreign Auxiliary Bible Society, 
 London, ------ 245 
 
 Speech delivered at Cheltenham, (Eng.) on the 
 7th October, IS t9j at the fourth anniversary 
 of the Gloucester Missionary Society, - 253 
 
 Letter to the King, 259 
 
 Appendix, - - - - - - 277 
 
 / 
 
 1- 
 
PREFACE: 
 
 BY JOHN FINLAY, ESQ. 
 
 The Speeches of Phillips are now, for the first time, ofl'eted 
 to the uorld in an authentic form. So far as his exertions have 
 been hitherto developed, his admirers, and they are innumera- 
 ble, must admit, that the text of this volume is anacknowfedsred 
 reference, to which future criticism may fairly resort, and from 
 which his friends must deduce any titl«» which the s|)eakermay 
 bare created to the character of an orator. 
 
 The interests of his reputation impose no necessity of denying 
 many of those im{)erfections which have been imputed to these 
 productions. The value of all human exertion is comparative ; 
 and positive excellence is bat a flat(ering designation, even of 
 the best products of industry and mind 
 
 There is, perhaps, but one way by which we coufd avoid all 
 possible defects, and tliat is, by avoiding all possible exertion. 
 The very fastidious, and the very uncharitable, may too often be 
 met with, in the class of the indolent ; and the man of talent is 
 generally most liberal in his censure, whose industry has given 
 him least title to praise. Thus defects and detraction are as the 
 spots and shadow which of necessity adhere and attach to every 
 object of honourable toil. Were it possible for the friends of 
 Mr. Phillips to select those defects which could till up the mea- 
 sure of-unavoidable imperfection, and at the same time indict 
 least injury on his reputation, doubtless they would prefer the 
 blemishes and errors natural to youth consonarst to genius, and 
 consistent with an obvious and ready correction. To this des' 
 cription, we apprehend, may be reduced all the errors that have 
 keen imputed through a system of wide-spread'mg and ufiweari- 
 ed criticism, animated by that envy with which indolence too 
 i>ft regards the success of industry and talent, and subsidized by 
 power in its struggle to repress the reputation and importance o^ 
 a rapidly rising young man, whom it had such gocxl reason botfc 
 
 
 \ 
 
i 
 
 \n\. PREFACE. 
 
 to bate and f^ar. For it would be ignorance not to know, and 
 knowing, il Would be atreclation to conceal, lliat his political prin- 
 ciples were a drawback <n\ his reputation; and that the dispraise 
 of these speeches has been a discountable quantity tor the pro- 
 motion ot placemen and the procurement ot" place. 
 
 This system of depreciation thus powerfully wielded, even t» 
 the date ot the present publication, failed not in Is energy,! hough 
 ft has irj its object ; nay more, it has succeeded in procuring for 
 tiim the benelicial results of a multiplying re-action. To borrow 
 ihe expression of an emment clas^ic, •'the rays of their indigna- 
 tion collected upon him, served to illumine, l>ut could not con- 
 sume ;"' and doublles-, this hostility may have promoted this 
 fact, that the materials of this volume arc at tliis moment rtad in 
 ail Ihe languages of tlurojie ; and whatever be the proportion of 
 ihen' merits to tijeir faults, they are uidikely to escape the ulten- 
 lion of posterity. 
 
 The independent reader, whom this book may introduce to a 
 ■»irst or mi)ie correct accjuaintance with his eloquence, will there- 
 fore be disposed to protect bis mind a^iainst these illiberal prc- 
 jiusse3sior>s liius actively dittused, on t-.ie double consicleralion 
 that some delects are essential to such and so much labour, and 
 that some detraction ri)ay justly be accounted for by the mo- 
 tives of tlie system whose vices he expuf;cd. The same reader, 
 if he had not tlie opjtortunily of hearingthese speeches deliver- 
 ed by the author, will make in his favour another deduction tor 
 a dilferenl reason. 
 
 The great father of ancient eloquence was accuvtomed to say, 
 that action was the fir^t, and second, and last quality of an ora- 
 tor Tills was the dictum of a supreme anlhoriiy ; ii was an ex- 
 aggeration notwithstanding ; but the observation must contain 
 ujui li truth to permit such exaggeration ; and w hilst we allow 
 that delivery is nui every thing, it will be allow ed that it is much 
 of (he effect of oratory. 
 
 Nature has been bountiful to the subject of these remarks in 
 Iht' ustlul accident of a prcjiosscssirig exterior; an interesting 
 figure an animated connteiirince, and a demeanour devoid of 
 aliMlTtion, and distinguished by a modest self-possession, give 
 him tile favourable opinion <<f his audience, evin before he has 
 nddrrssed them. His eager, lively, and sparkling eye roells or 
 kindles in j)ulh(»s or indignation ; his voice, by its compass, 
 sweetness, and variety, ever nudible and .seldom loud, never 
 hurried, inarliculalej or indistinct, secures to his audience every 
 word that In.- ulters; and preserves him from the painful appear- 
 uace of etioil. 
 
PREFACE. IX. 
 
 His memory is not less faithful in the conveyance of his mean- 
 ing, than his voice : unlike Fox m this respect, he never wants 
 a word \ unlike Bushe,he never pretends to want one ; and un- 
 like Grattan, he never either wants or recalls one. 
 
 His delivery is freed from every thing fantastic — is simple and 
 elegant, impressive and sincere ; and if we add the circumstance 
 of his youth to his other external qualifications, none of his con- 
 temporaries in this vocation can pretend to an equal combina- 
 tion of these accidental advantages. 
 
 If, then, action be a great part of the effect of oratory, the 
 reader who has not heard him is excluded from that considera- 
 tion, so important to a right opinion, and on which his excellence 
 is unquestioned. 
 
 ' The ablest and severest of all the critics who have assailed 
 him, (we allude of course to the Edinburgh Review.) in their 
 criticism on Guthrie and Sterne^ have paid him an involuntary 
 and unprecedented compliment. He is the only individual in 
 these countries to whom this literary work has devoted an entire 
 article on a single speech ; and when it is recollected that the 
 basis of this criticism was an unauthorized and incorrect publi- 
 cation of a single forensic exertion in the ordinary routine of 
 professional business, it is very questionable whether such a 
 publication afforded a just and proportionate ground-work for so 
 much general criticism. or a fair criterion of the alleged speaker's 
 general merits. This criticism s»:irs up its objections, and con- 
 cludes its remarks, by the following commending observation — 
 that a more strict control over his fancy would constituti;,.a rem- 
 edy for his defects. 
 
 Exuberance of fancy is certainly a defect ; but it is evidence of 
 an attribute essential to an orator. There are few men without 
 some judgment, but there are many men without any imagina- 
 tion : the latter class never did, and never can, produce an ora- 
 tor. Without imagination the speaker sinks to the mere dry 
 arguer, the matter-of-fact man, the calculator, or syllogist, or 
 sophist ; the dealer in figures : the compiler of facts ; the mason, 
 but not the architect of the pile ; for the dictate of the imagina- 
 tion is tiie inspiration of oratory, which imparts to matter ani- 
 mation and soul. 
 
 Oratory is the great art of persuasion ; its purpose is to give, 
 in a particular instance, a certain direction to human action. 
 The faculties of the orator are judgment and imagination ; and 
 reason and eloquence, the product of these faculties, must work 
 on tjie judgment and feelings of his audience, for the attainment 
 
 ^ 
 

 X. PRIPACE. 
 
 ©f his end. The speaker who addresses the juJf;ment alone 
 may be argumentative, but never can be eloquent ; for argument 
 instructs without interesting, and eloquence interests without 
 convincing , but oratory is neither ; it is the compound of both ; 
 it conjoins tiie feelings and opinions of men ; it speaks to the 
 passions through the mind, and to the mind through the passions; 
 and leads its audience to its just purpose by the combined and 
 pouerfid agency of human reason and human feeling. The 
 components of this combination will vary, of course, in propor- 
 tion to the number and sagacity of the auditory which the speak- 
 er addresses. With judges it is to be hoped that the passions 
 rvill be weak ; with public assemblies it is to be hoped that rea- 
 soning will be strong; but, although the imagination may, in 
 the first case, be unemi)loyed. in the second it cannot be dispens- 
 ed with ; for if the advocate of virtue avoids to address the 
 feelings of a mixed assembly, whether it be a jury or a political 
 meeting, he has no security that their feeling, and their bad 
 feelings, may not be brought into action against him ; he surren- 
 ders to his enemy the strongest of his weapons, and, by a species 
 of irrational generosity, contrives to ensure his own defeat in the 
 UJnflict. To juries and public assemblies alone the following 
 speeches have been addressed; and it is by ascertaining their 
 effect on these assemblies or juries, that the merit of the exer- 
 tion should injustice be measured. 
 
 But there seems a general and prevalent mistake among our 
 critics on this judgment. They seem to think that the taste of 
 the individual is the standard by which the value of oratory 
 should be decided. We do not consider oratory a mere matter 
 of taste ; it is a given means for the procurement of a given end ; 
 and the fitness of its means to the attainment of its end should be 
 in chief the measure of its merit •. of this fitness success ought to 
 be the evidence. The preacher who can melt his congregation 
 into tears, and excel others in his struggle to convert the super- 
 fluities of the opulent into a treasury for the wretched ; — the ad- 
 vocate who procures the largest compensation from juries on 
 their oaths for injuries which they try ; — the man who. like Mr. 
 Phillips, can be accused (if ever any man was so accused, excejtt 
 himself) by grave lawyers, and before grave judges, of having 
 procured a verdict from twelve sagacious and most respectable 
 fc.pecial jurors by fascination ; of having, by the fascination of 
 his eloquence, blinded them to that duty w hich they were sworn 
 to observe; — the man who can be accused of this on oath, and 
 the fascination of whose speaking is made a ground-work, 
 though an unsuccessful one, for setting aside a verdict ; — he may 
 be wrong and ignorant in his study and practice of oratory ; but, 
 \'pith all bis errors and ignorance, it must be admitted that h% 
 
PREFACE. Xi. 
 
 has in some manner stumbled on the shortest way fpr attaining 
 the end of oratory — that is, giving tlie most forceful direction to 
 human action and determination in particular instances. His 
 eloquence may be a novelty, but it is beyond example success- 
 ful ; and its success and novelty maybe another explanation for 
 the hostility that assails. It may be matter of taste, but certainly 
 it would not be matter of judgment or prudence in Mr. Phillips 
 to depart from a course which has proved most successful, and 
 which has procured for him, within the last year, a larger number 
 of readers through the world than ever in the same time resorted 
 to the productions of any man of these countries. His youth 
 carries with it not only much excuse, but much promise of future 
 improvement ; and doubtless he will not neglect to apply the 
 fruits of study and the lights of experience to each succeeding 
 exertion. But his manner is his own, and every man's own 
 manner is his best manner; and so long as it works with this 
 unexampled success, he should be slow to adopt the suggestions 
 of his enemies, although he should be sedulous in adopting all 
 legitimate improvement. To that very exuberance of imagina- 
 tion, we do not hesitate to ascribe much of his success ; whilst, 
 therefore, he consents to control it, let him be careful lest he 
 clip his wings : nor is the strength of this faculty an argument, 
 although it has been made an argument, against the strength of 
 his reasoning powers ; for let us strip these speeches of every 
 thing whose derivation could be, by any construction, assigned 
 to his fancy ; let us apply this rule to his judicial and political 
 exertions — for instance to the speech on Guthrie and Sterne, and 
 the late one to the gentlemen of Liverpool — let their topics be 
 translated into plain, dull language, and then we would ask, 
 what collection of topics could be more judicious, better arrang- 
 ed, or classed in a more lucid and consecutive order by the most 
 tiresome wisdom of the sagest arguer at the bar? Is there not 
 abundance to satisty the judgment, even if there were nothing 
 to sway the feelings, or gratify the imagination .' How prepos- 
 terous, then, the futile endeavour to undervalue the solidity of 
 the ground-work, by withdrawing attention to the beauty of the 
 ornament ; or to maintain the deficiency of strength in the base, 
 merely because there appears so much splendour in the struc- 
 ture. 
 
 Unaided by the advantages of fortune or alliance, under the 
 frown of political power and the interested detraction of pro- 
 fessional jealousy, confining the exercise of that talent vvhichhe 
 iJerives from his God to the honour, and sucroup,and '*r'»tei-tio« 
 of his creatures — this interesting and highly-gifted ysjiiog man 
 runs his course like a giant, prospering and to prosper . in the 
 eoart as a flaming sword, leading and lighting the injured tP 
 
 [ 
 
Xil. PIlEFAeE. 
 
 their own ; and in the public assembly exposing her wrongs^— 
 exacting her rights — conquering envy — trampling on corruption 
 — beloved by his country — esteemed by a world — en joying and 
 deserving an unexampled fame — and actively employing the 
 summer of his life in gathcriog honours for bis name, and gar- 
 lands for his grave ! 
 
 / 
 
 r 
 
A SPEECH 
 
 »BLIVERED AT A PUBLIC DINNER, GIVEN TO 
 
 MR. FIJVL^Y^ 
 
 BY THE ROMAN CATHOLICS OF THE TOWN AND 
 COUNTY OF SLICIO. 
 
 I THINK, Sir, you will agree with me, that the most 
 experienced speaker might justly tremble in address- 
 ing you, after the display you have just witnessed. 
 What, then, must I" feel, who never before addressed 
 a public audience ? However, it would be but an un- 
 wortliy affectation in me, were I to conceal from you 
 the emotions with which I am agitated by this kind- 
 ness. The exaggerated estimate which other countries 
 have made of the few services so young a man could 
 render, has, I hope, inspired me with the sentiments it 
 ought ; but here, 1 do confess to you, I feel no ordina- 
 ry sensation — here, where every object springs some 
 new association, and the loveliest objects, mellowed as 
 they are by time, rise painted on the eye of memory 
 — here, where the light of heaven first blessed my in- 
 fant view, and nature breathed into my infant heart, 
 that ardour for my country which nothing but death 
 can chill — here, where the scenes of my childhood 
 remind me, how innocent I was, and the gi'ave of my 
 fathers admonish me, how pure I should continue — 
 here, standing as I do amongst my fairest, fondest, i 
 earliest sympathies, — such a welcome, operating, not *• 
 B 
 
/ 
 
 i H iPEEcn 
 
 merely as an atrcctionatc tribute, but as a moral testi- 
 mony, does indeed quite oppress and overwlielm me. 
 
 Oh ! believe me, warm is the heart that feels, and 
 willing is the tongue that speaks; and still, I cannot, 
 by shaping it to my rudely inex])ressive phrase, shock 
 the sensibility of a gratitude too full to be suppressed, 
 and yet (how far !) too eloquent for language. 
 
 If any circumstance could add to tlie pleasure of 
 this day, it is that which I feel in introducing to the 
 friends of my youth, the friend of my adoption, though 
 perhaps I am committing one of our imputed blun- 
 ders, when I speak of introducing one whose patriotism 
 lias already rendered him familiar to every heart in 
 Ireland ; a man, who, conquering every disadvantage, 
 and spurning every difBculty, has poured around our 
 misfortunes the splendour oi" an intellect, that at once 
 irradiates and consumes them. For the services he 
 has rendered to his country, from my heart I thank 
 him, and, for myself, 1 offer him a personal, it may be 
 a selfish, tribute for saving me, by his presence this 
 night, from an impotent attenjpt at his panegyric. In- 
 deed gentlemen, you can have little idea of what he 
 has to endure, who, in these times, advocates your 
 cause. Every calumny w hich the venal and the vul- 
 gar, and the vile are lavishing upon you, is visited with 
 exaggeration upon us. We are called traitors, because 
 we would rally round the crown an unanimous people. 
 We are called apostates, because we will not i)ersecute 
 Christianity. We are branded as separatists, because 
 of our endeavours to annihilate the fetters that, instead 
 of binding, clog the connexion. To these may be 
 added, the frowns of power, the envy of dulness, the 
 mean malice of exposed self-interest, and, it may be, 
 in despite of all natural aflection, even the discounte- 
 nance of kindred ! — Well, be it so, — 
 
 For fliee, fuir Freedom, welcome all tlic past, 
 For tlicBj my country, welcome; cen the laal ' 
 
AT SLIGO. 19. 
 
 I am not ashamed to confess to you, tliat there was a 
 day when I was bigoted as the blackest ; but I thank 
 the Being who gifted me with a mind not quite imper- 
 vious to conviction, and I thank you, who afforded such 
 convincing testimonies of my error. I saw jou en- 
 during with patience the most unmerited assaults, bow- 
 ing before the insuhs of revived anniversaries ; in pri- 
 vate life, exemplary ; in public, imoffending ; in the 
 hour of peace, asserting your loyalty ; in the hour of 
 danger, proving it. Even when an invading enemy 
 victoriously penetrated into the very heart of our 
 country, I saw the banner of your allegiance beaming 
 refutation on your slanderers ; was it a wonder then, 
 that I seized my prejudices, and with a blush burned 
 them on the altar of my country ! 
 
 The great question of Catholic, shall I not rather 
 say, of Irish emancipation, has now assumed that na- 
 tional aspect which imperiously challenges the scruti- 
 ny of every one. While i^t was shrouded in the man- 
 tie of religious mystery, with the temple for its sane- 
 tuar}', and the pontiiT lor its sentinel, the vulgar eye 
 might shrink and the vulgar spirit shudder. But now 
 it has come forth, visible and tangible for the inspec- 
 tion of the laity ; and I solemnly protest, dressed as it 
 Jias been in the double haberdashery of the English 
 minister and the Italian prelate, I know not whether 
 to laugh at its appearance, or to loathe its pretensions 
 — to shudder at the deformity of its original creation, 
 or smile at the grotesqueness of its fm^eign decorations. 
 Only just admire this far-famed security jjill, — this 
 motly compound of oaths and penalties, which, under 
 the name of emancipation, would drag your prelates 
 with a halter about their necks to the vulgar scrutiny 
 of every village-tyrant, in order to enrich a few politi- 
 cal traders, and distil through some state alembic the 
 jTiiserable rinsings of an ignorant, a decaying, and de- 
 generate aristocracy ! Only just admire it ! Originally, 
 engendered by our friends the opposition, with ^f*- 
 
20 SPEECH 
 
 nichoo insidiousness, they swindled it into the nest of 
 tl)e treasury ravens, and wlien it had been fairly liatcli- 
 ed with the beak of the one, and tlie nakedness of the 
 other, they sent it lor its (eatliers to Monseigneur 
 QuARANTOTTi, who lias obligingly transmitted it witii 
 the hunger of its parent, the rapacity of its nurse, and 
 the coxcombry of its phtmassiir, to be baptized by the 
 >bishops, and received (rq?'o ^ratoque animo by the 
 people of Ireland ! ! Oh, thou sublimely ridiculous 
 Quarantotti ! Oh, thou superlati\ e coxcomb of the 
 conclave ! what an estii^iate hast thou formed of the 
 MIND of Ireland ! Yet why should J blame this wretch- 
 ed scribe oi" the Propaganda ! lie had every right to 
 speculate as he did ; all the chances of the calculation 
 were in his favour. Uncommon must be the people, 
 over whom centuries of oppression have revolved in 
 vain ! Strange must be the mind, which is not subdu- 
 ed bysulFering! Sublime the spirit, which is not de- 
 based by servitude ! God, I give thee thanks ! — he 
 knew not Ireland. Bent — broken — manacled as she 
 has been, she will not bow to the mandate of an Italian 
 slave, transmitted through an English vicar. For my 
 own part, as an Irish Protestant, I trample to the earth 
 this audacious and desperate experiment of authority; 
 and for you, as Catholics, the time is come to give that 
 calumny the lie, which represen.ts you as subservient 
 to a foreign inliuence. That inllucncc, indeed, seems 
 not quite so unbending as it suited the purjioses of 
 bigotry to represent it, and appears now not to have 
 conceded more, only because more was not demand- 
 ed. The theology of the question is not for me to 
 argue, it camiot be in better hands than in those of 
 your bishops ; and I can have no doubt that w hen they 
 bring their rank, their learning, their talents, their 
 piety, and their patriotism to this sublime deliberation, 
 they will consult the dignity of that venerable fabric 
 •which has stood for ages, splendid and iinmutable ; 
 Avbifch time could not crumble, ner persecutions shake. 
 
AT SLIGO. 21 
 
 uor revolutions change ; which has stood amongst us, 
 like some stupendous and majestic Appenine, the 
 earth rocking at its feet, and the heavens roaring 
 round its head, firmly balanced on the base of its eter- 
 nity ; the relic of what was ; the solemn and sublime 
 memento of v/hat must be ! 
 
 Is this my opinion as a professed member of the 
 church of England ? Undoubtedly it is. As an Irish- 
 man, I feel my liberties interwoven, and the best af- 
 fections of my heart as it were enfihred with those of 
 my Catholic countrymen ; and as a Protestant, con- 
 vinced of the purity of my own faith, would I de- 
 base it by postponing the powers of reason to the sus- 
 picious instrumentality of this world's conversion? 
 No ; surrendering as I do, with a proud contempt, all 
 the degrading advantages with which an ecclesiastical 
 usurpation would invest me ; so I will not interfere 
 with a blasphemous intrusion between any man and 
 liis Maker. I hold it a criminal and accursed sacrilege, 
 to rob even a beggar of a single motive for his devo- 
 tion ; and I hold it an equal insult to my own faith, to 
 offer me any boon for its profession. This pretended 
 emancipation-bill passing into a law, would, in my 
 mind, sti-ike not a blow at this sect or that sect, but at 
 the very vitality of Christianity itself. I am thoroughly 
 convinced that the anti-christian connexion between 
 church and state, Avhich it was suited to increase, has 
 done more mischief to the Gospel interests, than all 
 the ravings of infidelity since the crucifixion. The 
 sublime Creator of our blessed creed never meant it to 
 be the channel of a courtly influence, or the source of 
 a corrupt ascendency. He sent it amongst us to heal, 
 not to irritate ; to associate, not to seclude ; to collect 
 together, like the baptismal dove, every creed and 
 clime and colour in the universe, beneath the spotless 
 wing of its protection. The union of church and state 
 only converts good Christians into bad statesmen, and 
 political knaves into pretended Christians, It is at 
 B2 
 
29 SPEECH 
 
 best hut a foul and adulterous connexion, polluting tiic^ 
 purity of heaveji with the abomination of earth, and 
 lianging the tatters o( a poUtical pieti! upon the cross 
 of an nisulted Saviour. Religion, Holv Religion, 
 ought not, in the words of its Founder, to be " led 
 mto temptation." The hand that holds her chalice 
 should be pure, and the priests of her temple should 
 be spotless as the vestments of their ministry. Rank 
 only degrades, wealth only impoverishes, ornaments 
 but disfigure her. I would have her pure, unpension- 
 ed, unstipendiary ; she should rob the earth of nothing 
 but its sorrows : a divine arch of promise, her extremi- 
 ties should rest on tlie horizon, and her span embrace 
 {he universe ; but her only sustenance should be the 
 tears that were exhaled and embellished by the sun- 
 beam. Such is my idea of what religion ought to be. 
 What would tJiis bill make it ? A mendicant of the 
 castle, a menial at the levee, its manual the red-book, 
 its liturgy the pension list, its gospel the will of the 
 minister ! Methinks I see the stalled and fatted victim 
 of its creation, cringing with a brute suppliancy 
 through the venal mob of ministerial flatterers, crouch- 
 ing to the ephemeral idol of the day, and, like the de- 
 voted sacrifice of ancient heathenism, glorying in the 
 garland that only decorates him for death ! I Avill read 
 to you the opinions of a celebrated Irishman, on the 
 suggestion in his day, of a bill similar to that now 
 proposed for our oppression. He was a man who 
 added to the pride not merely of his country but of 
 bis species — a man who robbed the very soul of inspi- 
 ration in the splendours of a pr.re and overpowering 
 eloquence. I allude to JMr. Burke — an authority at 
 least to which the sticklers for estaljlishments can offer 
 no objection. ''■' Before I had written thus far," says 
 he, in his letter on the penal laws, " 1 heard of a 
 scheme for giving to the Castle the patronage of the 
 presiding meml)ers of the Catholic clergy. At first I 
 '.'ould scarcely credit it. fori believe it is the f'rsl time 
 
AT SLIGU. 2.3 
 
 that the presentation to other people's aims has been 
 desired in any country. Never were the members of 
 one religious sect fit to appoint the pastors to another. 
 It is a great deal to suppose that the present Castle- 
 would nominate bishops for the Roman church in Ire- 
 land, with a religious regard for its welfare. Perlia}>s 
 they cannotj perhaps they dare not do it. But sup- 
 pose them to be as well inclined, as I know that I am, 
 to do the Catholics all kinds of justice, I declare I 
 would not, if it were in my power, take that patronage 
 on myself. I know I ought not to do it. 1 belong to 
 another community ; and it would be an intolerable 
 usurpation in me, where I conferred no benefit, or 
 even if I did confer temporal advantages. How can 
 the Lord Lieutenant form the least judgment on their 
 merits so as to decide which of the popish priests is fit 
 to be a bishop ? It cannot be. The idea is ridiculous. 
 He will hand them over to Lords-Lieutenant of coun- 
 ties, justices of the peace, and others, who, for the 
 purpose of vexing and turning into derision this mis- 
 erable people, will pick out the worst and most obnox- 
 ious they can find amongst the clergy to govern the 
 rest. Whoever is complained against by his brother, 
 win be considered as persecuted ; whoever is censured 
 by his superior, will be looked upon as oppressed ^ 
 whoever is careless in his opinions, loose in his morals, 
 will be called a liberal man, and will be supposed to 
 have incurred hatred because he was not a bigot. In- 
 formers, tale-bearers, perverse and obstinate men, flat- 
 terers, who turn their back upon their flock, and court 
 the Protestant gentlemen of their country, will be the 
 objects of preferment, and then I run no risk in fore- 
 telling, that whatever order, quiet, and morality you 
 have in the country will be lost.'' Now, let me ask 
 you, is it to such characters as those described by 
 Burke, that you v/ould delegate the influence imputed 
 to your priesthood ? Believe me, you would soon see 
 rhem transferring their devotion from the Cross to 
 
24 SPEECH 
 
 the Castle ; wearing their sacred vestments but as 
 a masquerade appendage, and, under the degraded 
 passport ol'the Ahnighty's name, sharing the pleasures 
 of the court, and tlie spoils of tlie people. When I say 
 this, I am bound to add, and 1 do so from many proud 
 and pleasing recollections, that I think the impression 
 on the Catholic clergy of the present day would be 
 late, and v^cvuld be delible. But it is human nature. 
 Rare are the instances in which a contact with the 
 court has not been the beginning of corruption. The 
 man of God is peculiarly disconnected with it. It 
 directly violates his special mandate, who look his 
 birth irom the manger, and his disciples from the fish- 
 ing-boat. Judas was the first who received the 
 money of power, and it ended in the disgrace of his 
 treed, and the death of his master. If I was a Catho- 
 lic, I would peculiarly deprecate any interference with 
 my priesthood. Indeed, I do not think, in any one 
 respect in which we should Avish to view the delegates 
 of the Almighty, that, making fair allowances for hu- 
 man infirmity, tliey could be amended. The Catholic 
 clergy of Ireland are rare examples of the doctrines 
 ihey inculcate. Pious in their habits, almost primitive 
 in their manners, they have no care but their fiock — 
 no study but tlieir Gospel. It is not in the gaudy ring 
 of courtly dissipation that you will find the Murrays, 
 the CoRPiNtiERs, and the Moylanus of the present 
 day — not at the levee, or the lounge, or the election- 
 riot. No ; you will find them wherever good is to be 
 done, or evil to be corrected — rearing their mitres in 
 the van of misery, consoling the captive, reforming the 
 convict, enriching the orj)han; ornaments of this 
 world, and emblems of a better : preaclnng their God 
 through the practice of every virtue; monitors at the 
 confessional, apostles in the pulpit, saints at the death- 
 bed, holding the sacred water to the lip of sin, or 
 pouring the redeeming unction on the agonies of de- 
 spair. Ohj 1 would hold him Utile better than the 
 
AT SLIGO. 25 
 
 Prometlieaii robber, who would turn tlie fire of their 
 eternal altar into the impure and perishable mass of 
 this world's preferment. Better by far theit the days 
 of ancient barbarism should revive — better that your 
 religion sliould again take refuge among the fastnesses 
 of the mountain, and the solitude of the cavern — bet- 
 ter that the rack of a murderous bigotry should again 
 terminate the miseries of your priesthood, and that the 
 gate of freedom should be only open to them through 
 the gate of martyrdom, than they should gild their 
 missals with the wages of a court, and expect their ec- 
 clesiastical promotion, not from their superior piety, 
 but their comparative prostitution. • Cut why this 
 interference with your principles of conscience ? Why 
 is it that they will not erect your liberties save on the 
 ruin of your temples ? Why is it that in the day of 
 peace they demand securities from a people who in 
 the day of danger constituted their strength ? When 
 were they denied every security that was reasonable? 
 Was it in l7T(i, when a cloud of enemies, hovering on 
 our coast, saw every heart a shield, and every hill 
 a fortress ? Did they want securities in Catholic 
 Spain ? Were they denied securities in Catholic Por- 
 tugal ? What is their security to day in Catholic 
 Canada ? Return — return to us our own glorious Wel- 
 lington, and tell incredulous England what v/as her 
 security amid the lines of Torres Vedras, or on the 
 summit of Barrossa ! Rise, libelled martyrs of the 
 Peninsula! — rise from your ^'gory bed,'' and give 
 security for your childless parents ! No, there is not a 
 Catholic family in Ireland, that for the glory of Great 
 Britain is not weeping over a child's, a brother's or a pa- 
 rent's grave, and yet still she clamours for securities I 
 Oh,prejudice,where is thy reason ! Oh, bigotry ! where 
 is thy blush ! If ever there was an opportunity for 
 England to combine gratitude with justice, and dignity 
 with safety, it is the present. Now, when Irish blood 
 lia-s crim'^oned the cross upon her naval flag, and an 
 
2G SPEECH 
 
 Irish liero strikes the harp to victory upon the summit 
 ol'the Pyrenees. England — England ! do not hesitate. 
 This hour ol' triumph may be but the hour ol" trial ; 
 another season may see the splendid panorama of 
 European vassalage, arrayed by your rutldess enemy, 
 and iilittering beneath the ruins of another capitol — 
 perhaps of London. Who can say it ? A few months 
 (since, iMoscow stood as splendid as secure. Fair rose 
 the morn on the patriarchal city — the empress of her 
 nation, the queen of commerce, the sanctuary of stran- 
 gers, her thousand spires pierced the very heavens, 
 and her domes of gold reflected back the sun-beams. 
 The spoiler came ; he marked her for his victim ; and, 
 as if his very glance was destiny, even before the night- 
 fall, with all her pump, and wealth, and happiness, she 
 withered from the world ! A heap of ashes told where 
 once stood IMoscow ! IMerciful God, if this lord of de- 
 solation, heading his locust legions, were to invade 
 our country ; though I do not ask what would be your 
 .determination ; though, in the language of our young 
 enthusiast, I am sure you would oppose him with " a 
 sword in one hand, and a torch in the other y' still I 
 do ask with fearlessness, upon what single principle 
 of ])olicy or of Justice, could the advocates for your 
 exclusion solicit your assistance — could they expect 
 you to support a constitution from whose benefits you 
 were debarred? With what front could they ask you 
 to recover an ascendency, which in point of fact was 
 but re-establishing your bondage ? 
 
 It has been said that there is a faction in Ireland 
 ready to join this despot — '" a French party,'' as Mr. 
 CJrattim thought it decent, even in the very senate- 
 house, to promulgate. Sir, I speak the universal voice 
 of Ireland when I say, siie spurns the imputation. 
 There is no '• French party" here, but there is — and 
 It would be strange if there was not — there is an Irish 
 party — \ncn who cannot bear to see their country 
 ♦aimted wUh 4he mockery of a constitution — m'^n whe 
 
AT SLfGO. f27 
 
 will be content with no connexion that refuses them a 
 community of benefits while it imposes a community 
 of privations — men who, sooner than see this land 
 polluted by the footsteps of a slave, Avould wish the 
 ocean-wave became its sepulchre, and that the orb of 
 heaven forgot where it existed. It has been said too 
 (and when we were to be calumniated, what has not 
 been said ?) that Irishmen are neither fit for freedom 
 or grateful for favours. In the first place, I deny that 
 to be a favour which is a right ; and in the next place, 
 I utterly deny that a system of conciliation has ever 
 been adopted with respect to Ireland. Try them, and, 
 my life on it, they will be foiuid grateful. I think I 
 know my countrymen ; they cannot help being grate- 
 ful for a benefit ; and there is no country on the earth 
 where one would be conferred v/ith more characteris- 
 tic benevolence. They are, emphatically, the school- 
 boys of the heart — a people of sympathy; then' acts 
 spring instinctively from their passions ; ijy nature ar- 
 dent, by instinct brave, by inheritance generous. The 
 children of impulse, they cannot avoid their virtues ; 
 and to be other than noble, they must not only be un- 
 natural but unnational. Put my panegj ric to the test. 
 Enter the hovel of the Irish peasant. I do not say 
 you will find the frugality of the Scotch, the comfort 
 of the English, or the fantastic decorations of the 
 French cottager ; but I do say, within those wretched 
 bazaars of mud and misery, you v/ill find sensibdity 
 the most affecting, politeness the most natural, hos- 
 pitality the most grateful, merit the most unconscious : 
 their look is eloquence, their smile is love, their re- 
 tort is wit, their remark is wisdom — not a v»isdom bor- 
 rowed from the dead, but tliat with which nature has 
 herself inspired them ; an acute observance of the 
 passing scene, and a deep insigl.t into the motives of 
 its agent. Try to deceive them, and see wit]i what 
 shrewdness they will detect; try to outwit them, c\nA 
 >e£ V. ith v.liat humour they will elude ;' attack them 
 
2C S-PEECH 
 
 with argument, and you will stand amazed at tlic 
 strength of their expression, the rapidity of their 
 ideas, and the energy of their gesture. In short, God 
 seems to have formed our country like our people ; he 
 has thrown round the one its wild, magnificent, deco- 
 rated rudeness ; he has infused into the other the sim- 
 plicity of genius and the seeds of virtue : he says au- 
 dibly to us, '' Give them cultivation.'^ 
 
 This is tlie way, Gentlemen, in which I have always 
 looked upon your question — not as a party, or a sec- 
 tarian, or a Catholic, but as an Ijiisn question Is it 
 possible that any man can seriously believe the para- 
 lyzing five millions of such a people as I have been 
 describing, can be a benefit to the empire ! Is there 
 any man who deser\ es the name not of a statesman 
 but of a rational being, who can think it politic to rob 
 such a multitude of all the energies of an honourable 
 ambition ! Look to Protestant Ireland, shooting over 
 the empire those rays of genius, and those thunder- 
 bolts of war, that have at once embellished and pre- 
 served it. I speak not of a former era. I refer not 
 for my example to the day just past when our Burkes, 
 our Barrys, and our Goldsmiths, exiled by this sys- 
 tem Iroin tlieir native shore, wreathed the " innnortal 
 f<hamrock" round the brow of i)ainting, poetry, and 
 eloquence ! But now, even while I speak, who leads 
 the British senate? A Protestant Irishman! Who 
 guides the British arms ? A Protestant Irishman ! 
 And why, why is Catholic Ireland, with her (piintuple 
 population, stationary and silent? Have i)hysical cau- 
 ses neutralized its energies ? Has the religion of Christ 
 stupihed its intellect? Has the (iod of mankind 
 become the partisan of a monopoly, and put an inter- 
 dict on its advancement ? Stranger, do not ask the 
 bigoted and pampered renegade who has an interest 
 in deceiving you ; but open the penal statutes, and 
 weep tears ol" l)lood over the reason. Come, come 
 yourself, and see this unhappy people 5 see the Irish- 
 
AT SLIGO. 29 
 
 Mian, the only alien in Ireland, in rags and wretched- 
 ness, staining the sweetest scenery ever eye reposed 
 on, persecuted by the extorting middlemen of some 
 absentee landlord, plundered by the lay-proctor of 
 some rapacious and unsympathizing incumbent, bear- 
 ing through life but insults and injustice, and bereaved 
 even of any hope in death by the heart rending re- 
 flection that he leaves his children to bear like their 
 father an abominable bondage ! Is this the fact? Let 
 any man who doubts it walk out into your streets, and 
 see the consequences of such a system ; see it rearing 
 up crowds in a kind of apprenticeship to the prison, 
 absolutely permitted by their parents from utter des- 
 pair to lisp the alphabet and learn the rudiments of 
 profligacy ? For my part, never did I meet one of 
 these youthful assemblages without feeling within me 
 a melancholy emotion. How often have I thought, 
 within that l.ttle circle of neglected triflers who seem 
 to have been born in caprice and bred in orphanage, 
 there may exist some mind formed of the finest moidd, 
 and wrought for immortality ; a soul sweUing with 
 the energies and stamped with the patent of the Dei- 
 ty, which under proper culture might perhaps bless, 
 adorn, immortalize, or ennoble empires ; some Cin- 
 ciNNATus, in whose breast the destinies of a nation 
 may lie dormant ; some Milton, ^"^ pregnant with ce- 
 lestial fire ;'' some Curran, who, when thrones were 
 crumbled and dynasties forgotten, might stand the 
 landmarkof his country's genius, rearing himself amid 
 regal ruins and national dissolution, a mental pyramid 
 hi the solitude of time, beneath whose shade things 
 might moulder, and round w hose summit eternity must 
 play. Even in such a circle the young Demosthenes 
 might have once been found, and Homer, the disgrace 
 and glory of his age, have sung neglected! Have not 
 other nations witnessed those things, and who shall 
 say that nature has peculiarly degraded the intellect 
 of Ireland ? Oh ! my countrymen, let us hope that 
 
30 SPEECH 
 
 under better auspices and a sounder policy, the igtio- 
 rance that thinks so may meet its refutation. Let us 
 turn from tiie Wight and ruin of this wintry day to 
 the fond anticipation of a happier period, when our 
 prostrate land shall stand erect among the nations, 
 tearless and unfettered ; her brow blooming with the 
 wreath of science, and her path strewed with the ofier- 
 ings of art ; the breath of heaven blessing her flag, 
 the extremities of earth acknowledging hername,her 
 fields waving with the fruits of agriculture, her ports 
 alive with the contributions of commerce, and her 
 temples vocal with unrestricted piety. Such is the 
 ambition of the true patriot ; such are the views for 
 which we are calumniated ! Oh, divine ambition! Oh, 
 deliglitful calumny ! Happy he who shall see thee ac- 
 complished ! Plappy he who through every peril toils 
 for thy attainment ! Proceed, friend of Ireland and 
 partaker of her wrongs, proceed undaunted to this glo- 
 rious consummation. Fortune will not gild, power will 
 not ennoble thee : but thou shalt be rich in the love 
 and titled by the blessings of thy country ; thy path 
 shall be illumined by the public eye, thy labours en- 
 lightened by the public gratitude; and oh, remember 
 — amid the impediments with which corruption will 
 oppose, and the dejection with which disappointments 
 may depress you ; remember you are acquiring a niune 
 to be cherisJied by the future generations of earth, 
 long after it has been enrolled amongst the inheritor^ 
 of heaven. 
 
A SPEECH 
 
 DELIVERED AT AN 
 
 .IGGREGATE MEETING 
 
 OP THE 
 
 ROxMAN CATHOLICS OF CORK, 
 
 -***%%%**** 
 
 Ir is with no small degree of self- congratulation that 
 I at length find myself in a province which every 
 glance of the eye, and every throb of the heart, tells 
 me is truly Irish ; and that congratulation is not a lit- 
 tle enhanced by linding that you receive me not quite 
 as a stranger. Indeed, if to respect the Christian 
 without regard to his creed, if to love the country but 
 the more for its calamities, if to hate oppression though 
 it be robed in power, if to venerate integrity though it 
 pine under persecution, gives a man any claim to your 
 recognition; then, indeed, I am not a stranger amongst 
 you. There is a bond of union between brethren, 
 however distant ; there is a sympathy between the 
 virtuous, however separated ; there is a heaven-born 
 instinct by which the associates of the heart become 
 at once acquainted, and kindred natures as it were by 
 magic see in the face of a stranger, the features of a 
 friend. Thus it is that, though we never meet, you 
 hail in me the sweet association, and I feel myself 
 amcmgst you even as if I were in the home of my na- 
 tivity. But this my knowledge of you was not left to 
 chance; nor was it left to the records of your charity,. 
 
-33 SPEECH 
 
 tJie memorials of your patriotism, your municipai 
 magnificence, or your commercial splendour ; it came 
 to me hallowed by the accents of that tongue on which 
 Ireland has so often hung with ecstacy, heightened by 
 the elo(juence and endeared by the «-incerity of, I hope, 
 our mutual friend. Let me congratulate him on ha- 
 vnig become in some degree nafjralized in a province, 
 where the spirit olthe elder day seems to have linger- 
 ed ; and let me congratulate you en the acquisition of 
 a man who is at cnce the zealous advocate of your 
 cause, and apracticalinstanccof the injustice of your 
 oppressions. Surely, surely if merit had fail play, if 
 splendid talents, if indefatigable industry, if great re- 
 search, if unsullied principle,if a heart full of the finest 
 affections, if a mind matured in every manly accom- 
 plishment, in short, if every noble, public quality, mel- 
 lowed and reflected in the pure mirror of domestic 
 virtue, could entitle a subject to distinction in a state, 
 Mr. O'Connel should be distinguished ; but, it is hi* 
 crime to be a Catholic, and his curse to be an Irish- 
 man. Simpleton ! he prefers his conscience to a place, 
 and the love of his country to a participation in her 
 plunder ! Indeed he will never rise. If he joined the 
 bigots of my sect, he might be a sergeant ; if he join- 
 ed the infidels of your sect, he might enjoy a pen- 
 sion, and there is no knowing whether some Orange- 
 corporator, or an Orange-anniversary, might not mo- 
 destly yield him the precedence of giving " the glori- 
 ous and immortal memory." Oh, yes, he might be 
 privileged to get drunk in gratitude to the man w Jio 
 colonized ignorance in his native land, and left to his 
 creed the legacy of legalized persecution. Nor would 
 he stand alone, no matter what might be the measure 
 of his disgrace, or the degree of his dereliction. You 
 will know there are many of your own communi- 
 ty who would leave him at the distance-post. In con- 
 templating their recreancy,! should be almost tempt- 
 ed to smile at the exhibition of their pretensions, if 
 
kT CORK. 33 
 
 ihere \va^ r.ot a kind of moral melancholy intermin- 
 gled, that changed satire into pity, and ridicule into 
 contempt. For my part, I behold them in the apathy 
 of their servitude, as I would some miserable maniac 
 in the contentment of his captivity. Poor creature ! 
 when all that raised him from the brute is levelled, 
 and his glorious intellect is mouldering in ruins, you 
 may see him with his song of triumph, and his crown 
 of straw, a fancied freeman mid the clanking of his 
 chains, and an imaginary monarch beneath the inflic- 
 tions of his keeper ! Merciful God ! is it not almost 
 an argument for the sceptic and the disbeliever, when 
 we see the human shape almost without an aspiration 
 of the human soul, separated by no boundary from the 
 beasts that perish, beholding with indifference the cap- 
 tivity of their countiy, the persecution of their creed, 
 and the helpless, hopeless destiny of their children r 
 But they have nor creed.nor consciences, nor country ; 
 their God is gold, their gospel is a contract, their 
 church a counting-house, their characters a commodi- 
 ty ; they never pray but for the opportunities of corrup- 
 tion, and hold their consciences, as they do their go- 
 vernment-debentures, at a price proportioned to the 
 misfortunes of their country. But let us turn from 
 those mendicants of disgrace : though Ireland is 
 dooined to the stain of their birth, her mind need not 
 be sullied by their contemplation. I turn from them 
 with pleasure to the contemplaticn of your cause, 
 which, as far as argument can afiect it, stands on a sab- 
 lime and splendid elevation. Every obstacle has van- 
 ished into air; every favourable circumstance has 
 hardened into adamant. The Pope, whom childhood 
 was taugiit to lisp as the enemy of religion, and age 
 shuddered at as a prescriptive calamity, has by his ex- 
 ample put the princes of Christendom to shame. This 
 day of miracles, in which the human heart has been 
 strung to its extremest point of energy ; this day, to 
 which posterity will look for instances of every crime 
 C2 
 
34 SPEECH 
 
 and every virtue, holds not in its page of wonders a 
 more sublime phenomenon tlian tlrat cahminiated 
 pontiti". Placed at tlie very pinnacle of luiinun eleva- 
 tion, surrounded by the pomp uitlie Vatican asid the 
 splendours oi* the court, pouring the mandates of 
 Christ from the throne of the C; sars, nations were 
 his subjects, kings were Ins compnnions, religion was 
 his hand-maid ; he went forth gorgeous with the ac- 
 cumulated dignity of ages, every knee bending, and 
 every eye blessing the prince of one world and the 
 prophet of another. Have we not seen him, in one 
 moment, his crown crumbled, his sceptre a reed, his 
 throne a. shadow, his home a dungeon ! But if we have 
 Catholics, it was only to show how inestimable is hu- 
 man virtue compared with human grandeur ; it was 
 only to show those whose faith was failing, and whose 
 fears were strengthening, that the simplicity of the 
 patriarchs, the piety of the saints, and the patience of 
 the martyrs, had not wholly vanished. Perhaps it was 
 also ordained to show the bigot at home, as well iis 
 the tyrant abroad, that though the person might be 
 chained, and the motive calumniated, Religion was 
 still strong enough to support her sons, and to con- 
 found, if she could not reclaim, her enemies. No 
 threats could awe, no promises could tempt, no suf- 
 ferings could a])pal him; mid the damps of his dun- 
 geon he dashed asvay the cup in which the pearl of 
 his liberty was to be dissolved. Only reflect on the 
 state of the world at that moment ! All around him 
 was convulsedjthe very foundations of the earth seem- 
 ed giving away, the comet was let loose that " from its 
 fiery hair shook pestilence and death,'' the twilight 
 was gathering, the tempest was roaring, the darkness 
 was at hand ; but he towered sublime, like the last 
 mountain in the deluge — majestic, not less in his ele- 
 vation than in his solitude, immutable amid change, 
 magnificent amid ruin, the last remnant of eai'tlrs 
 beauty, the hst resting-place of heaven's light! Thus 
 
AT CORK. So 
 
 have the terrors of the Vatican retreated ; thus has 
 that cloud wnich hovered o'er your cause brightened at 
 once mto a sign of your faith and an assurance of your 
 victory. — Another obstacle, tiie omnipotence of 
 France ; I know it was a pretence, but it was made 
 an obstacle — VVhat has become of it? The spell of 
 her invincib lity destroyed, the spirit of her armies 
 broken, her innnense boundary dismembered, and the 
 lord of her empire become the exile of a rock. She 
 allows fancy no fear, and bigotry no speciousness ; 
 and, as if in the very operation ol' the change to point 
 the purpose of your redemption, the hand that re- 
 planted the rejected lily was that of an Irish Catholic, 
 Perhaps it is not also unwortliy of remark, that the 
 last day of her triumph, and the first of her decline, 
 was that on which her insatiable chieftain smote the 
 holy head of your religion. You will hardly suspect 
 I am imbued with the follies of superstition ; but 
 when the man now unborn shall trace the story of 
 tlrat eventful day, he will see tiie adopted child oi for- 
 tune borne on the wings of victory from clime to 
 clime, marking every movement with a triumph, and" 
 every pause with a crown, till time, space, seasons, 
 nay, even nature herself, seeming to vanish from be- 
 fore him, in the blasphemy of his ambition he smote 
 the apostle of his God, and dared to raise the everlast- 
 ing Cross amid his perishable trophies ! I am no fana- 
 tic, but is it not remarkable ? May it not be one of 
 those signs which the Deity has sometimes given in 
 compassion to our infirmity ; signs,which in the pun- 
 ishment of our nation not uufrequently denote the 
 warning to another ; — 
 
 <' Signs sent by God to mark the will oi" Heaven, 
 Signs, which bid nations weep and be forgiven." 
 
 The argument, however, is taken from the bigot ; 
 and those whose consc' »usness taught them to expect 
 what your loyalty shauid have taught them to repe!;^ 
 
;>G bPEKCH 
 
 can no longer oppose you from the terrors of invasion. 
 
 I'lius, tlieji,tiii' pa));»l pliantoni iiiul the FVencli threat 
 liave vanished into notliinpc. — Another ohstacle, the 
 tenets of your (rt-ed. Has Knphnul still to learn them ? 
 I will tell her where. Let her ask Canada, the last 
 plank ol iier American shipwreck. Let her ask Por- 
 tugal, the fnst omen of her Luropean splendour. Let 
 her ask Spain, the )nusi Catiiolu country in the ani- 
 verse, her Catholic friends, her Catholic allies, her 
 rivals in the triumph, her reliance in the retreat, her 
 last stay when the world had deserted her. They 
 must have told her on tlie field of hlood, whether it 
 was true that thi-y " kept no faith with heretics.''^ 
 Alas, alas ! how jniserable a thing is bigotry, when 
 every friend puts it to the blush, and every triumph 
 but relnikes its weakness. If England continued still 
 to accredit this cahnnny, I would direct her for con- 
 viction to the hero for whose gift alone she owes ns 
 an eternity of gratitude ; whom we have seen leading 
 the van of universal emanci})ation, decking his wreath 
 with the flowers of every soil, and filling his army w ith 
 the soldiers of every sect; before whose splendid 
 dawn, every tear exhaling and every vapour vanishing, 
 the colours of the Europeeui world have revived, and 
 the s})irit of Liu'opcan liberty (may no crime avert the 
 omen!) seems to have arisen! Suppose ho was a 
 Catholic, could this have been? Suppose Catholics 
 did not follow him, could this have been ? Did the 
 (Catholic Cortes inquire his faith, wlien they gave him 
 the supreme command? Did the Rejjent of I'ortugal 
 withhold from his creed the reward of his valour ? Did 
 the Catholic soldier pause at Salamanca to dispute 
 upon jiolemics? Did the Catholic cliieftain prove 
 upon HaiTossa that lie kept no faith with herel cs, or 
 did the creed of Spain, tlie same with that of Fr.Mice, 
 the opposite of that oi Lngiand, prevent their associ- 
 ation in the field of liberty ? Oh, no, no, no ! the citi- 
 zen of e>cry dime, the friend of every colour, and the 
 
AT CORK. 3'i 
 
 child of every creed, liberty walks abroad in the ubi- 
 quity of her benevolence ; alike to her the varieties of 
 faith and the vicissitudes of country ; she has no ob- 
 ject but the happiness of man, no bounds but the ex- 
 tremities of creation. Yes, yes, it was reserved for 
 AVeliington to redeem his own country when he was 
 regenerating every other. It was reserved for him to 
 show how vile Avcre the aspersions on your creed, how 
 generous were the glowings of your gratitude. He 
 was a Protestant, yet Catholics trusted him ; he was a 
 Protestant, yet Catholics advanced him ; he is a Prot- 
 estant Knight in Catholic Portugal, he is a Protestant 
 Duke in Catholic Spain, he is a Protestant comman- 
 der of Catholic armies: he is more, he is the living 
 proof of the Catholic's liberality, and the undeniable 
 refutation of the Protestant's injustice. Gentlemen, 
 as a Protestant, though I may blush for the bigotry of 
 many of my creed who continue obstinate in the teeth 
 of this conviction, still v>'ere I a Catholic I should feel 
 little triumph in the victory. I should only hang my 
 head at the distresses v/hich this warfare occasioned to 
 my countr)^ I should only think how long she had 
 writhed in the agony of her disunion ; how long she 
 had bent, fettered by slaves, cajoled by blockheads, 
 and plundered by adventurers; the proverb of the 
 fool, the prey of the politician, the dupe of the design- 
 ing, the experiment of the desperate, struggling as it 
 were between her own fanatical and infatuated par- 
 ties, those hell-engendered serpents which enfold her, 
 like the Trojan seer, even at the worship of her altars, 
 and crush her to death in the very embraces of her 
 children ! It is time (is it not ?) that she should be ex- 
 tricated. The act would be proud, the means woukl 
 be Christian ; mutual forbearance, mutual indulgence, 
 lUHtual concession : I would say to the Protestant, 
 Concede; 1 would say to the Catholic, Forgive; I 
 would say to both. Though you bend not at the same 
 shrine, vou have a common God, and a common 
 
33 SPEECH 
 
 country; the one has commanded love, the other 
 kneels to you lor peace. This hostility of her sects 
 iias been the disgrace, tlie pecuhar disgrace of Chris- 
 tianity. The Gentoo loves his cast, so does the Ma- 
 hometan, so does the Hindoo, whom England out of 
 the abundance of her charity is about to teach her 
 creed ; — 1 hope she may not teach her practice. But 
 Christianity, Christianity alone exJiibits her tliousand 
 sects, each denouncing his neighbour here, in the name 
 of God, and damning hereafter out of pure devotion f 
 •' You're a heretic,'^ says the Catholic : " You're a 
 Papist," says the Protestant; " I appeal to Saint Pe- 
 ter," exclaims the Catholic : " I appeal to Saint 
 Athanasius," cries the Protestant : " and if it goes to 
 danniing, he's as good at it as any saint in the calen- 
 dar." " You'll all be damned eternally," moans out 
 the Methodist; "I'm the elect!" Thus it is, you 
 see, each has his anathema, his accusation, and his re- 
 tort, and in the end Religion is the victim ! The victo- 
 ry of eacii is the overthrow of all; and Infidelity, 
 laughing at the contest, writes the refutation of their 
 creed in the blood of the combatants ! I wonder if this 
 rellection has ever struck any of those reverend dig- 
 nitaries who rear their mitres agamst Catholic eman- 
 cipation. Mas it ever glanced across their Christian 
 /.eal, if the story of our country should have casually 
 reached the valleys of Ilindostan, with what an argu- 
 ment they are furnisJiing the heathen world aeainst 
 their sacred missionary ? In what terms could the 
 Christian ecclesiastic answer the Eastern Bramin, 
 when he replied to his exhortations in language 
 such as this ? " Father, we have heard your doctrine : 
 it is splendid in theory, specious in promise, sublime 
 in prospect ; like the world to which it leads, it is rich 
 in the miracles of light. But, Father, we have heard 
 that there are times when its rays vanish and leave 
 your sphere in darkness, or when your only lustre 
 arises irom meteors of lire, and moons of blood ; vi** 
 
AT CORK. S9 
 
 have heard of the verdant island which the Great 
 Spirit has raised in the bosom of the w aters with such 
 a bloom of beauty, that the very wave she has usurped^ 
 worships the loveliness of her intrusion. The sove- 
 reign of our forests is not more generous in his anger 
 than her sons; the snow-flake, ere it falls on the 
 mountain, is not purer than her daughters ; little in- 
 land seas reflect the splendours of her landscape, and 
 her valleys smile at the story of the serpent ! Father, 
 is it true that this isle of the sun, this people of the 
 morning, find the fury of the ocean in your creed, and 
 more than the venom of the viper in your policy ? Is 
 it true that for six hundred years, her peasant has not 
 tasted peace, nor her piety rested from persecution ? 
 Oh ! Brama, defend us from the God of the Chris- 
 tian ! Father, father, return to your brethren, retrace 
 the waters ; we may live in ignorance, but we live in 
 love, and we will not taste the tree that gives us evil 
 when it gives us wisdom. The heart is our guide, 
 nature is our gospel ; in the imitation of our fatiiers 
 we found our hope, and, if we err, on the virtue of our 
 motives we rely for our redemption." How would the 
 missionaries of the mitre answer him ? How will they 
 answer that insulted Being of whose creed their c in- 
 duct carries the refutation ? — But to what end do I 
 argue with the Bigot ? — a wretch, whom no philoso- 
 phy can humanize, no charity soften, no religion re- 
 claim ; no miracle convert ; a monster, who, red with 
 the fires of hell, and bending under the crimes of 
 earth, erects his murderous divinity upon a throne of 
 sculls, and would gladly feed even with a brother's 
 blood the cannibal appetite of his rejected altar ! His 
 very interest cannot soften him into humanity. Sure- 
 ly, if it could, no man would be found mad enough to 
 advocate a system which cankers the very heart of 
 society, and undermines the natural resources of gov- 
 ernment ; which takes away the strongest excitement 
 to industry, by closing up every avenue to laudable 
 
40 SPEECH 
 
 anibiiioii ; wliicli administers to the vanity or the vice 
 ol" a party, when it should only study the advantage 
 of a people; and lioUls out the penpiisites oi' state as 
 an im})ious bounty on the persecution of reliction. — I 
 have aheady sliown that the power of the Po])e, that 
 the power of France, and tliat the tenets of your creed, 
 were but iinajrinary auxiliaries to this system. An- 
 other pretended obstacle has, however, been o})posed 
 to your emancipation. 1 allude to the danger arising 
 from a foreign influence. What a triumphant answer 
 can you give to that ! iMethinks, as lately, I see the 
 assemblage of your hallowed hierarchy surrounded by 
 the priesthood, and followed by the peoi)le, waving 
 aloft the cruciiix of Christ alike against tlie seductions 
 of the court, and the commands of the conclave ! 
 Was it not a delightful, a heart-cheering spectacle, to 
 see that holy band of brothers preferring the chance 
 of martyrdom to the certainty of promotion, and post- 
 poning all the gratifications of worldly pride, to the 
 severe but heaven-gaining glories of their poverty? 
 They acted lionestly, and they acted wisely also ; for 
 I say here, before the largest assembly I ever saw in 
 any country — and 1 believe you are almost all Catho- 
 lics — I say here, that if the see of Rome presu)ned to 
 impose any temporal mandate directly or indirectly 
 on the Irish people, the Irish bishops should at once 
 abandon it, or the flocks, one and all, would abjure 
 and banish both of them together. History alfords 
 us too fatal an example of tlie perfidioiis, arrogant, 
 and venal interference of a papal usurper of former 
 days in the temporal jurisdiction of this country ; an 
 interference assumed without right, exercised without 
 principle, and followed by calamities apparently with- 
 out end. Thus, then, has every obstacle vanished ; 
 but it has done more — every obstacle has, as it were, 
 by miracle, produced a powerful argument in your fa- 
 vour ! How do 1 prove it.'' Follow me in my proofs, 
 and you will sec by what links the chain is uirited. 
 
JPi' CUliK. 41 
 
 Viie power of Napoleon was the grand and leading 
 obstacle to your emancipation. That power led him 
 to the menace of an Irish invasion. What did that 
 prove ? Only the sincerity of Irish allegiance. On the 
 very threat, we poured forth our volunteers, our yeo- 
 men, and oup militia ; and the country became encir- 
 cled with an armed and a loyal population. Thws, 
 then, the calumny of your disaffection vanished. That 
 power next led him to the invasion of Portugal. What 
 did it prove ? Only the good faith of Catholic allegi- 
 ance. Every field in the Peninsula saw the Catholic 
 Portuguese hail the English Protestant as a brother 
 and a i'riend, joined in the same pride and the same 
 peril. Thus, then, vanished the slander that yoti 
 could not keep faith with heretics. That power next 
 led him to the imprisonment of the Pontiff, so long 
 suspected of being quite ready to sacrifice every thing 
 to his interest and his dominion. What did that 
 prove ? The strength of his principles, the purity of 
 his faith, the disinterestedness of his practice. It 
 proved a life spent in the study of the saints, and ready 
 to be closed by an imitation of the martyrs. Thus, 
 also, was the head of your religion vindicated to Eu- 
 rope. There remained behind but one impediment 
 —your liability to a foreign influence. Now mark ! 
 The Pontiff's captivity led to the transmission of 
 Quarantotti's rescript ; and, on its arrival, from the 
 priest to the peasant, there was not a Catholic in the 
 land, who did not spurn the document of Italian auda- 
 city ! Thus, then, vanished also the phantom of a 
 foreign influence ! Is this conviction ? Is it not the 
 hand of God in it ? Oh yes ! lor observe what follow- 
 ed. The very moment that power, which was the 
 first and last leading argument against you, had, by its 
 special operation, banished every obstacle ; that pow- 
 er itself, as it were by enchantment, evaporated at 
 once ; and peace with Europe took away the last pre^ 
 tcnce for your exclusion. Peace v/ith Europe ! alas. 
 D 
 
42 SPEECH^ 
 
 alas, thet*e is no peace for Ireland : the universal paci- 
 fication was but the signal for renewed hostility to us, 
 and the mockery of its preliminaries were tolled 
 through our provinces by the knell of the curfew. I 
 ask, is it not time that this hostility should cease ? If 
 ever there was a day when it was necessary, that day 
 undoubtedly exists no longer. The continent is tri- 
 umphant, the Peninsula is free, France is our ally. 
 The hapless house which gave birth to Jacobinism is 
 extinct for ever. The Pope has been found not only 
 not hostile, but complying. Indeed, if England would 
 recollect the share you had in these sublime events, 
 the very recollection should imhsidize her into grati- 
 tude. But should she not — should she, with a base- 
 ness monstrous and unparalleled, forget our services, 
 she has still to study a tremendous lesson. The an- 
 cient order of Europe, it is true, is restored, but what 
 restored it ? Coalition after coalition had crumbled 
 away before the might of the conqueror ; crowns were 
 but ephemeral; monarchs only the tenants of an 
 hour; the descendants of Frederick dwindled into a 
 vassal ; the heir of Peter shrunk into the recesses of his 
 frozen desert ; the successor of Charles roamed a vag- 
 abond, not only throneless but houseless ; every even- 
 ing sun set upon a change ; every morning dawned 
 upon some new convulsion : in short, the whole politi- 
 cal globe quivered as with an eartliquake, and who 
 could tell what venerable monument was next to shiver 
 beneath the splendid, frightiul, and rei)oseless heav- 
 ings of the French volcano ! What gave Europe peace 
 and J'^ngland safety amid this palsy of her Princes ? 
 Was it not the Landwehr and the Landsturm and the 
 Levy en Masse ? Was it not the People r — that first 
 and last, and best and noblest, as well as safest secu- 
 rity of a virtuous government, it is a glorious lesson : 
 she ought to study it in this hour of safety ; but should 
 !?he not — 
 
 "Oh wo be to the Prince who rules hy feai, 
 "When danger comes upon liim !" 
 
AT CORK. 43 
 
 She will adopt it. I hope it from her wisdom ; I ex- 
 pect it from her policy ; I claim it from her justice ; I 
 demand it from her gratitude. She must at length 
 see that there is a gross mistake in the management 
 of Ireland. No wise man ever yet imagined injustice 
 to he his interest ; and the minister who thinks he 
 serves a state by upholding the most irritating and the 
 most impious of all monopolies, will one day or other 
 fmd himself miserably mistaken. This system of 
 persecution is not the v/ay to govern this country ; at 
 least to govern it with any happiness to itself, or ad- 
 vantage to its rulers. Centuries have proved its total 
 inelliciency, and if it be continued for centuries, the 
 proofs will be but multiplied. Why, however, should 
 I blame the English people, when I see our own 
 representatives so shamefully negligent of our inter- 
 est ? The other day, for instance, when Mr. Peele in- 
 troduced, aye, and passed too, his three newW invent- 
 ed penal bills, to the necessity of which, every assizes 
 in Ireland, and as honest a judge as ever dignified or 
 redeemed the ermine, has given the refutation ; why 
 was it that no Irish member rose in his place to vindi- 
 cate his country ? Where were the nominal repre- 
 sentatives of Ireland ? Where were the renegade re- 
 vilers of tlie demagogue ? Where were the noisy pro- 
 claimers of the board ? What, was there not one voice 
 to own the country ? Was the patriot of 1782 an as- 
 senting auditor ? Were our hundred itinerants mute 
 and motionless — " quite chop-fallen :" or is it only 
 when Ireland is slandered and her motives misrepre- 
 sented, and her oppressions are basely and falsely de- 
 nied, that their venal throats are ready to echo the 
 chorus of ministerial calumny ? Oh, I should not have 
 to ask those questions, if in the late contest for this 
 city, you had prevailed, and sent Hutchinson into 
 Parliament : he would have risen, though alone, as I 
 iiave often seen him — richer not less in hereditary 
 fame, than in personal accomplisliments ; the orrta- 
 
U SPEECH 
 
 inent of Ireland as she is, ihe solitary remnant of what 
 she was. If slander dare asperse her, it would not 
 have done so with impunity. He would have en- 
 couraged the timid ; he would have shamed the rec- 
 reant ; and though he could not save us from chains, 
 he would at least liave shielded us from calumny. Let 
 me hope that his ahscnce shall he but of short dura- 
 lion, and that this city will earn an additional claim to 
 the gratitude of the country, by electing him her re- 
 presentative. I scarcely know him but as a public 
 man, and considering the state to which we are redu- 
 ced, by the apostacy of some, and the ingratitude of 
 others, and venality of more, — I say you sh(;uld in- 
 seribe the conduct of such a man in the manuals of 
 your devotion, and in the primers of your children, 
 but above all, you should act on it yourselves. Let 
 me intreat of you, above all things, to sacrifice any 
 personal difierences amongst yourselves, for the great 
 cause in which you are embarked. Remember, the 
 contest is for your children, your country, and your 
 God ; and remember also, that the day of Irish union 
 will be the natal day of Irish liberty. Wlien your 
 own Parliament (which I trust in Heaven we may yet 
 see again) voted you the right of franchise, and the 
 right of purchase, it gave you, if you are not false to 
 Yourselves, a certainty of your emancipation. IMy 
 friends, farewell ! This has been a most unexpected 
 meeting to me ; it has been our first — it may be our 
 last. J can never forget the enthusiasm of this recep- 
 tion. I am too mucli affected by it to make profes- 
 sions ; but believe me, no matter where I may be 
 driven by the whim of my destiny, you shall find me 
 one, in whom change of place shall create no change 
 of principle ; one whose memory must perish ere he 
 forgets his country; whose heart must be cold whert 
 '♦ beats not for her happiness. 
 
A SPEECH 
 
 DELIVERED AT A DINNER, GFVEN 05 
 
 DIJV^S ISL^JVD, 
 
 IN THE LAKE OF KILLARNEY, 
 
 ON MR. PHILLIPS* HEALTH BEING GIVEN, TOGETHER WITH THAT 
 OF MR. PAYNE, A YOUNG AMERICAN. 
 
 It is not with the vain hope of returning by words 
 the kindnesses which have been literally showered on 
 me during the short period of our acquaintance, that I 
 now interrupt, for a moment, the flow of your festivi- 
 ty. Indeed, it is not necessary ; an Irishman needs 
 no requital lor his hospitality ; its generous impulse is 
 the instinct of his nature, and the v^ry consciousness 
 of the act carries its recompense along with it. But, 
 Sir, there are sensations excited by an allusion in your 
 toast, under the influence of which silence would be 
 impossible. To be associated with Mr. Payne must 
 be, to any one who regards private virtues and per- 
 sonal accomplishments, a source of peculiar pride 5 
 and that feeling is not a little enhanced in me by a 
 recollection of the country to which we are indebted 
 for his qualifications. Indeed, the mention of Ameri- 
 ca has never failed to fill me with the most lively 
 emotions. In my earliest infancy, that tender season 
 when impressions, at once the most permanent and the 
 most powerful^ are likely to be excited, the story of 
 D 2 
 
46 SPEECH 
 
 her then recent struggle raised a throb in every heart 
 that loved Hberty, and wrung a rehictant tribute even 
 from discomfited oppression. I saw her spurning 
 ahke the hixuries tliat would enervate, and the legions 
 that would intimidate 5 dashing from her lips the 
 poisoned cup of" European servitude; and, through 
 all the vicissitudes of her protracted conflict, dis])lay- 
 ing a magnanimity that defied misfortune, and a 
 moderation that gave new giace to victory. It was 
 the fnst vision of my childhood ; it will descend w ith 
 me to the grave. r>ut if, as a man, I venerate the 
 mention of America, what must be my feelings towards 
 her as an Irishman. Never, Oh never while memory 
 remains, can Ireland forget the home of her emigrant, 
 and the asylum of her exile. No matter whether 
 their sonows sprung from the errors of enthusiasm, or 
 the realitiesof suffering, from fancy or iniliction ; that 
 must be reserved for the scrutiny of those whom the 
 lapse of time shall acquit of partialit}-. It is for the 
 men of other ages to investigate and record it; but 
 surely it is for the men of every age to hail the hospi- 
 tality that received the shelterless, and love the feel- 
 ing that befriended the unfortunate. Search creation 
 round, where can you find a country that presents so 
 sublime a view, so interesting an anticipation ? What 
 noble institutions ! What a comprehensive policy ! 
 W^hat a wise equalization of every political advan- 
 tage ! The oppressed of all countries, the martyrs of 
 every creed, the innocent victim of despotic arrogance 
 or superstitious phrensy, may there find refuge ; his 
 industry encouraged, his piety respected, his ambition 
 animated ; with no restraint but those laws which are 
 the same to all, and no distinction but that which his 
 merit may originate. Who can deny that the exist- 
 ence of such a country presents a subject for human 
 congratulation ! Who can deny, that its gigantic ad- 
 vancement offers a field for the most rational conjec- 
 ture ! At the end of the very next century, if !^l)e pro- 
 
AT DINAS ISLAND. 4*7 
 
 ceeds as she seems to promise, what a wondrous spec- 
 tacle may slie not exhibit ! Who shall say for what 
 purpose a mysterious Providence may not have de- 
 signed her ! Who shall say that when, in its follies or 
 its crimes i the old world may have interred all the 
 pride of its power, and all the pomp of its civilization, 
 human nature may not find its destined renovation in 
 the new ! For myself, I have no doubt of it. I iiave 
 not the least doubt that when our temples and our 
 trophies shall have mouldered into dust — when the 
 glories of our name shall be but the legend of tradi- 
 tion, and the light of our achievements only live in 
 song ; philosophy will rise again in the sky of Iier 
 Franklin, and glory rekindle at the urn of her Wash- 
 ington. Is this the vision of romantic fancy ? Is it 
 even improbable ? Is it half so improbable as the 
 events whicli for the last twenty years have rolled like 
 successive tides over the sui'face of the European 
 world, each erasing the impressions that preceded it ? 
 Thousands upon thousands, Sir, I know there are, who 
 will consider this supposition as wild and whimsical; 
 fcut they have dwelt with little reflection upon the re- 
 cords of the past. They have but ill observed the 
 never-ceasing progress of national rise and national 
 ruin. They form thgir judgments on the deceitful 
 stability of the present hour, never considering the in- 
 }mmei-able monarchies and republics, in former days, 
 apparently as permanent, their very existence becomes 
 now the subject of speculation, I had almost said of 
 scepticism. I appeal to History ! Tell me, thou 
 reverend chronicler of the grave, can ail the illusions 
 of ambition realized, can all the wealth of a universal 
 commerce, can all tlie achievements of successful 
 iieroism, or all the establishments of this world's wis- 
 dom, secure to empire the permanency of its posses- 
 sions ? Alas, Troy thought so once ; yet the land of 
 Priam lives only in song ! Thebes thought so onccj. 
 yet her hundred gates have crumbled, and her ver3t 
 
48 SPEECH 
 
 iombs are but as the dust they were vainly intended tu 
 commemorate ! So thought Pahnyra — where is she? 
 So thought Peisepolis, and now — 
 
 ** Yon waste, where roaming lions howJ, 
 Yon aisle, where moans the grey eyed owl, 
 Shows tlie proud Persian's great abode, 
 AVhere sccplred once, an earlhly god, 
 His |iower-cIacl arm controlled each happier clime, 
 Where sports the warbling muse, and faucv soars sublime/' 
 
 So tliought the comitries of Demosthenes and the 
 Spartan, yet Leonidas is trampled by the timid slave, 
 and Athens insulted by the servile, mindless, and 
 enervate Ottoman ! In his hurried march, Time has 
 but looked at their iinagined immortality, and all its 
 vanities, from the palace to the tomb, have, with their 
 ruins, erased the very impression of his footsteps ! 
 The days of their glory are as if they had never been ; 
 and the island that was then a speck, rude and neg- 
 lected in the barren ocean, now rivals the ubiquity of 
 tlieir commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame of 
 their philosophy, the eloquence of tlieir senate, and 
 the inspiration of their bards ! Who shall say, then, 
 contemplating the past, that England, proud and po- 
 tent as she appears, may not one day be what Athens 
 is, and tlie young America yet soar to be what Athens 
 was ! Who shall say, when the European column shall 
 have mouldered, and the night of barbarism obscured 
 its very ruins, that that mighty continent may not 
 emerge from the horizon, to rule for its time sove- 
 reign of the ascendant ! 
 
 Such, sir, is the natural progress of human op- 
 erations, and such the unsubstantial mockery of hu- 
 man pride. Kut I should, perhaps, apologize for this 
 digression. The tombs are at best a sad although an 
 instructive subject. At all events, they are ill suited 
 to such an hour as this. I shall endeavour to atone 
 for itj by turning to a theme v.hich tombs cannot in- 
 
AT DINAS ISLAND. 49 
 
 ifrn or revolution alter. It is the custom of your board, 
 and a noble one it is, to deck the cup of the gay with 
 the garland of the great; and surely, even in the eyes 
 of its deity, his grape is not the less lovely when glow- 
 ing beneath the foliage of the palm-ti'ee and the myr- 
 tle. Allow me to add one flower to the chaplet, which, 
 though it sprang in America, is no exotic. Virtue 
 planted it, and it is naturalized every where. I see 
 you anticipate me — I see you concur v/ith me, that it 
 matters very little what immediate spot may be the 
 birth-place of such a man as Washington. No peo- 
 ple can claim, no country can appropriate him ; the 
 boon of Providence to the human race, his fame is 
 eternity, and his residence creation. Though it ^vas 
 the defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of our poli- 
 cy, I almost bless the convulsion in which he had his 
 origin. If the heavens thundered and the earth rock- 
 ed, yet, when the storm passed, how pure was the cli- 
 mate that it cleared ; how bright in the brow of the 
 firmament was the planet which it revealed to us ! In 
 the production of Washington, it does really appear 
 as if nature was endeavouring to improve upon her- 
 self, and that all the virtues of the ancient world w ere 
 but so many studies preparatory to the patriot of the 
 new. Individual instances no doubt there were ; splen- 
 did exemplifications of some single qualification ; Cx- 
 sar was merciful, Scipio was continent, Hannibal was 
 patient ; but it was reserved for Washington to blend 
 them all in one, and like the lovely chef (Pceuvre of 
 the Grecian artist, to exhibit in one glow of associated 
 beauty, the pride of every model, and the perfection 
 of every master. As a General, he marshalled the 
 peasant into a veteran, and supplied by discipline the 
 absence of experience ; as a statesman, he enlarged 
 the policy of the cabinet into the most comprehensive 
 system of general advantage ; and such was the wis- 
 dom of his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, 
 that to the soldier and the statesman he almost adde4 
 
50 SPEECH 
 
 the character of the sage ! A conqueror, he was un- 
 tainted with the crime of blood ! a revolutionist, he 
 was free from any stain of treason ; for aggression 
 commenced the contest, and his country called him 
 to the command. — Liberty unsheathed his sword, ne- 
 cessity stained, victory returned it. If he had paused 
 here, history might have doubted what station to as- 
 sign him, whether at the head of her citizens or sol- 
 diers, her lieroes, or her patriots. But the last glo- 
 rious act crowns his career, and banishes all hesitation. 
 Who, like Washington, after having emancipated a 
 hemisphere, resigned its crown and preferred the re- 
 tirement of domestic life to the adoration of a land he 
 might be almost said to have created ! 
 
 «' How shall we rank tliee upon glory's page, 
 Thou more than soMier and just le«s than sage } 
 AM thou hast been reflects less fame on thee, 
 far less than all thou hast forborne to be !" 
 
 Such, Sir, is the testimony of one not to be accused 
 of partiality in his estimate of America. Happy, 
 proud America ! the lightnings of heaven yielded to 
 your philosophy ! The temptations of earth could 
 not seduce your patriotism ! 
 
 I liave the honour, Sir, of proposing to you asa toasf. 
 The immortal memory op George WAsniiNGTON ! 
 
A SPEECH 
 
 DELIVERED AT AN 
 
 ^GGREG^TE MEETIJVG 
 
 OP THE ROMAN CATHOLICS OF THE COUNTY 
 AND CITY OF DUBLIN, 
 
 Having taken, in the discussions on your question^ 
 such humble share as was allotted to my station and 
 capacity, I may be permitted to offer my ardent con- 
 gratulations at the proud pinnacle on which it this day 
 reposes. After having combatted calumnies the most 
 atrocious, sophistries the most plausible, and perils 
 the most appalling, that slander could invent, or inge- 
 nuity devise, or power array against you, I at length 
 behold the assembled rank and wealth and talent of 
 the Catholic body offering to the legislature that ap- 
 peal which cannot be rejected, if tliere be a Power in 
 heaven to redress injury, or a spirit on earth to admin- 
 ister justice. No matter what may be the deprecia- 
 tions of faction or of bigotry ; this earth never pre-» 
 sented a more ennobling spectacle than that of a 
 Christian country suffering for her religion with the 
 patience of a martyr, and suing for her liberties with 
 the expostulations of a philosopher ; reclaiming the 
 bad by her piety ; refuting the bgoted by her prac- 
 tice ; wielding the Apostle's weapons in the patriot's 
 cause, and at length, laden with chains and >^ ith laii- 
 
rels, seeking from the coinitryslie hadsavud tlie Con- 
 stitution she had shielded ! Little did I imagine, that in 
 such a state of your cause, we should be called together 
 to counteract the impediments to its success,created not 
 by its enemies, but by those supposed to be its friends. 
 It is a melancholy occasion ; but melancholy as it is, 
 it must be met, and met with the fortitude of men 
 struggling in the sacred cause of liberty. I do not 
 allude to the proclamation of your Board ; of that 
 Board I never was a member, so I can speak impar- 
 tially. It contained much talent, some learning, ma- 
 ny virtues. It was valuable on that account ; but it 
 was doubly valuable as being a vehicle for the indi- 
 vidual sentiments of any Catholic, and for the aggre- 
 gate sentiments of every Catholic. Those who sece- 
 ded from it, do not remember that, individually, they 
 are notliing; that as a body, they are every thing. It 
 is not this wealthy slave, or that titled sycophant, 
 whom the bigots dread, or the parliament respects ! 
 No, it is the body, the numbers,. the rank, the proper- 
 ty, the genius, the perseverance, the education, but, 
 above all, the Union of the Catholics. I am far from 
 defending every measure of the Board — perhaps I 
 condemn some of its measures even more than those 
 w ho have seceded from it ; but is it a reason, if a gen- 
 eral makes one mistake, that his followers are to desert 
 him, especially when the contest is for all that is dear 
 or valuable? No doubt the Board had its errors. Show 
 me the human institution which has not. Let the 
 man, then, who denounces it, prove himself superior 
 to humanity, before he triumphs iii his accusation. I 
 am sorry for its suppression. When I consider the an- 
 imals who are in ollice around us, the act does not sur- 
 prise me ; but I confess, even from them, the manner 
 did, and the time chosen did, most sensibly. I did 
 not expect it on the very hour when the news of uni- 
 versal peace was first promulgated, and on the anni- 
 versary of the only British momu-ch's birth, who ever 
 gave a boon to this distracted country. 
 
AT DUBLIN. 53 
 
 You will excuse this digression, rendered indeed in 
 some degree necessary. I shall now confine myself 
 exclusively to your resolution, which determines on 
 the inunediate presentation ol your petition, and cen- 
 sures the neglect of any discussion on it by yoiu* advo- 
 cates during the last session of Parliament. You have 
 a right to demand most fully the reasons of any man 
 who dissents from Mr. Grattan. I will give you mine 
 explicitly. But 1 shall first state the reasons which he 
 has given for the postponement of your question. I 
 shall do so out of respect to him, if indeed it can be 
 called respect to quote those sentiments, which on 
 their very mention must excite your ridicule. Mr. 
 Grattan presented your petition, and, on moving that 
 it should lie where so many preceding ones have lain, 
 namely, on tlie table, he declared it to be his intention 
 to move for no discussion. Here, in the first place, I 
 think Mr. Grattan wrong ; he got that petition, if not 
 on the express, at least on the implied condition of 
 having it immediately discussed. There was not a 
 man at the aggregate meeting at which it was adopt- 
 ed, who did not expect a discussion on the very first 
 opportunity. Mr. Grattan, however, was angry at 
 " suggestions." I do not think Mr. Grattan, of all 
 men, had any right to be so angry at receiving 
 that which every English member w£is willing to 
 receive, and was actually receiving from an Eng- 
 lish corn-factor. Mr. Grattan was also angry at 
 our " violence." Neither do I think he had any oc- 
 casion to be so squeamish at what he calls our vio- 
 lence. There was a day, when Mr. Grattan would 
 not have spurned our suggestions, emd there was also 
 a day when he was filty-lold more intemperate than 
 any of his oppressed countrymen, whom he now holds 
 lip to the English people as so unconstitutionally vio- 
 lent. A pretty way forsooth, for your advocate to 
 commence conciliating a foreign auditory in favour of 
 your petition. Mr. Gratta/i, however, has fulfilled his 
 E 
 
54 SPEECH 
 
 6wn prophecy, that " an oak of the forest is too old to 
 be transplanted at fifty/' and our fears that an Irish 
 native would soon lose its raciness in an English at- 
 mosphere. " It is not my intention," says he, " to 
 move for a discussion at present." Why ? " Great 
 obstacles have been removed." That's his tirst rea- 
 son. " I am, however," says he, " still ardent." Ar- 
 dent ! Why it strikes me to be a very novel kind of 
 ardour, which toils till it has removed every impedi- 
 mentj and then pauses at the prospect of its victory ! 
 ** And I am of opinion," he continues, '^ that any im- 
 mediate discussion would be the height of precipita- 
 tion : that is, after having removed the impediments, 
 he pauses in his path, declaring he is " ardent ;" and 
 after centuries of suffering, when you press for a dis- 
 cussion, he protests that lie considers you monstrously 
 precipitate ! Now is not that a fair translation ? Why 
 J'eally if we did not know Mr. Grattan, Ave should be 
 almost tempted to think that he was quoting from the 
 ministry. With the exception of one or two plain, 
 downright, sturdy, unblushing bigots, who opposed 
 5'ou because j'ou were Christians, and declared they 
 did so, this was the cant of every man who afiected 
 liberality. '' Oh, I declare," they say, '* they may 
 not be cannibals, though they are Catholics, and I 
 would be very glad to vote for them, but this is no 
 f?*we." " Oh no," says Braggc Bathurst, ^^ it's no time. 
 What ! in time of war ! why it looks like biill3'ing us !" 
 Very well : next comes the peace, and what say our 
 friends the opposition ? " Oh .' I (leelare peace is no 
 ime, it looks so like persuading us." For my part, 
 serious as the subject is, it aflects me with the \ery 
 same ridicule with which I see I have so unconsciously 
 afiected you. I will tell you a story of Avliich it re- 
 minds me. It is told of the celebrated Charles Fox. 
 Far be it from me, however, to mention that name 
 with levity. As he was a great man, I reverje him; 
 as he was a good man, I love him. lie had as wi^^e *» 
 
AT DUBLIN, 55 
 
 head as ever paused to deliberate ; he had as sweet a 
 tongue as ever gave the words of wisdom utterance ; 
 and he had a heart so stamped with the immediate 
 impress of the Divinity, that its very errors might be 
 traced to the excess of its benevolence. I had almost 
 forgot the story. Fox was a man of genius — of course 
 he was poor. Poverty is a reproach to no man ; to 
 such a man as Fox, I think it was a pride j for if Ae 
 chose to traffic with his principles ; if Ae chose to gam- 
 ble witii his conscience, how easily might he have been 
 ricii ? I guessed your answer. It would be hard, in- 
 deed, if you did not believe that in England talents 
 might find a purchaser, who have seen in Ireland how 
 easily a blockhead may swindle hnnself into prefer- 
 ment. Juvenal says that the greatest misfortune at' 
 tendant upon poverty is ridicule. Fox found out a 
 greater — debt. The Jews called on him for payment. 
 *' Ah, my dear friends," says Fox, ^^ I admit the prin- 
 ciple ; I owe you money, but what time is this, when 
 I am going w^on business ?^^ Just so our friends ad- 
 mit the principle ; they owe you emancipation, but 
 wars no time. Well, the Jews departed just as you 
 did. They returned to the charge : '■^ What ! (cries 
 Fox,) is this a time^ when I am engaged on an appoint- 
 ment ?" What ! say our friends, is this a time when 
 all the world's at peace ? The Jews departed ; but the 
 end of it was. Fox, with his secretary, Mr. Hare, who 
 was as much in debt as he was, shut themselves up in 
 garrison. The Jews used to surround his habitation 
 at day-light, and poor Fox regularly put his head out 
 of the window, with this question ; " Gentlemen, are 
 you Fo.-c-hunting or ^«7'e-hunting this morning ?'* 
 His pleasantry mitigated the very Jews. "Well, well, 
 Fox, now you have always admitted the principle, but 
 protested against the time — we will give you your own 
 time^ only just fix some final day for our repayment." 
 — "Ah, my dear Moses," replies Fox, "now this is 
 friendly : I will take you at your word j I will fix a 
 
56 SPEECH 
 
 day, and as it's to be ?x final day, what would you think 
 of the day o^ judgment?^' — " That will be too busy a 
 day with us.'' — " Well, well, in order to accommodate 
 all parties, let us settle the day aftery Thus it is, be- 
 tween the war inexpediency of Bragge Bathurst, and 
 the peace inexpediency of Mr. Grattan, you may ex- 
 pect your emancipation bill pretty much about the 
 time that Fox settled for the payment of his creditors. 
 Mr. Grattan, however, though he scorned to take your 
 suggestions, took the suggestions of your fncwcfe. " I 
 have consulted," says he, " my right honourable 
 friends!'' Oh, ?k[\ friends, all right honourable / Now 
 this it is to trust the interests of a people into the hands 
 of apart;!. You must know, in parliamentary par- 
 lance, these right honourable friends mean a party. 
 There are few men so contemptible, as not to have a 
 party. The minister has his party. The opposition 
 have their party. The saints, for there are Saints in 
 the House of Commons, fuciis a non lucendo, the saints 
 have their party. Every one has his party. I had 
 forgotten — Ireland has no partij. Such are the rea- 
 sons, if reasons they can be called, which Mr. Grattan 
 has given for the postponement of your question ; and 
 I sincerely say, if they had come from any other man, 
 I would not have condescended to have given them 
 an answer. He is, indeed, reported to have said that 
 he had others in reserve, which he did not think it ne- 
 cessary to detail. If those which he reserved were 
 like those which he delivered,! donot dispute the pru- 
 dence of keeping them to himself; but as we have 
 not the gift of propliecy, it is not easy for us to answer 
 them, until he shall deign to give them to his consti- 
 tuents. 
 
 Having dealt thus freely with the alledged reasons 
 for the postponement, it is quite natural that you should 
 require what my reasons'are for urG;ing the discussion. 
 I shall give them candidly. They are at once so sim- 
 ple and explicit, it is quite impossible that the mean- 
 
AT DtBLLV. 57 
 
 est capacity amongst you should not comprehend them. 
 I would urge the instant discussion, because discussion 
 has always been of use to you ; because, upon every 
 discussion you have gained converts out of doors; and 
 because, upon every discussion within the doors of 
 parliament, your enemies have diminished, and your 
 friends have increased. Now, is not that a strong rea- 
 son for continuing your discussions ? This maybe as- 
 sertion. Aye, but I will prove it. In order to con- 
 vince you of the argument as referring to the country, 
 I need but point to the state of the public mind now 
 upon the subject, and that which existed in the me- 
 mory of the youngest. I myself remember the black- 
 est and the basest universal denunciations against 
 your creed, and the vilest anathemas against any man 
 who would grant you an iota. AW', every man af- 
 fects to be liberal, and the only question with some 
 is the time of the concessions : with others, the extent 
 of the concessions ; with many, the nature of the se- 
 curities you should affoi'd ; whilst a great multitude, 
 in which I am proud to class myself, think that your 
 emancipation should be immediate, universal, and un- 
 restricted. Such has been the progress of the human 
 mind out of doors, m consequence of the powerful el- 
 oquence, argument, and policy elicited by those dis- 
 cussions which your friends now have,for the first time^ 
 found out to be precipitate. Now let us see what 
 has been the effect produced icithin the doors of Par- 
 liament. For twenty years you were silent, and of 
 course you were neglected. The consequence was 
 most natural. Why should Parliament grant privile- 
 ges to men who did not think those privileges worth 
 the solicitation ? Then rose your agitators, as they 
 are called by those bigots who are trembling at the 
 effect of their arguments on the community, and whoj,. 
 as a matter of course, take every opportunity of ca- 
 lumniating them. Ever since that period your cause 
 has been advancing. Take the numerical proportions 
 
58 SPEECH 
 
 in the House of Commons on each subsequent discus- 
 sion. In 1806, the first time it was brought forward 
 in the Imperial legislature, and it was then aided by 
 the powerful eloquence of Fox, there was a majority 
 against even taking your claims into consideration, of 
 no less a number than 212. It was an appalling omen. 
 In 1808, however, on the next discussion, that major- 
 ity was diminished to 1 63. In 1810 it decreased to 
 104. In 1811 it dwindled to64,and at length in 1812, 
 on the motion of Mr. Canning, and it is not a little re- 
 markable that the first successful exertion in your fa- 
 vour was made by an English member, your enemies 
 fled the field, and you had the triumphant majority to 
 support you of 129 •' Now, is this not demonstration? 
 What becomes now of those who say discussion has 
 not been of use to you ? but I need not have resorted 
 to arithmetical calculation. Men become ashamed of 
 combatting with axioms. Truth is omnipotent, and 
 must prevail j it forces its way with the fire and the 
 precision of the moi'mng sun-beam. Vapours may 
 impede the infancy of its progress ; but the very re- 
 sistance that would check only condenses and concen- 
 trates it, until at length it goes forth in the fulness of 
 its meridian, all life and sight and lustre, the minutest 
 objects visible in its refulgence. You lived for centu- 
 ries on the vegetable diet and eloquent silence of this 
 Pythagorean policy ; and the consequence was, when 
 you thought yourselves mightily dignified, and might- 
 ily interesting, the whole world was laughing at your 
 philosophy, and sending its aliens to take possession 
 of your birth-right. I have given you a good reason 
 for urging your discussion, by having shown you that 
 discussion has always gained you proselytes. But is 
 it the time ? says Mr. ^rattan. Yes, Sir, it is the timey 
 peculiarly the time, unless indeed the great question 
 of Irish liberty is to be reserved as a weapon in the 
 harfds of a party to wield against the weakness of the 
 British minister. But why should I delude you by 
 
AT DUBLIN. 59 
 
 talking about, ^2»ie/ Oh! there will never be a time 
 with Bigotry ! She has no head, and cannot think ; 
 she has no heart, and cannot feel ; when she moves, 
 it is in wrath ; when she pauses, it is amid ruin ; her 
 prayers are curses, her commimion is death, her ven- 
 geance is eternity, her decalogue is written in the 
 blood of her victims ; and if she stoops for a moment 
 from her infernal flight, it is upon some kindred rock, 
 to whet her vulture fang for keener rapine, and re- 
 plume her wing for a more sanguinary desolation ! I 
 appeal from this infernal, grave-stalled fury, I appeal 
 to the good sense, to the policy, to the gratitude of 
 England ; and I make my appeal peculiarly at this 
 moment, when all the illustrious potentates of Europe 
 are assembled together in the British capital, to hold 
 the great festival of universal peace and universal 
 emancipation. Perhaps when France, flushed with 
 success, fired by ambition, and infuriated by enmity j 
 her avowed aim an universal conquest, her means the 
 confederated resources of the Continent, her guide the 
 greatest military genius a nation fertile in prodigies 
 has produced — a man who seemed born to invert what 
 iiad been regular, to defile what had been venerable, 
 to crush what had been established, and to create, as 
 if by a magic impulse, a fairy world, peopled by the 
 paupers he had commanded into kings, and based by 
 the thrones he had crumbled in his caprices — perhaps 
 when such a power, so led, so organized, and so inci- 
 ted, was in its noon of triumph, the timid might trem- 
 ble even at the charge that would save, or the conces- 
 sion that would strengthen. — But now, — her allies 
 faithless, her conquests despoiled, her territory dis- 
 membered, her legions defeated, her leader dethroned, 
 and lier reigning prince our ally by treaty, our debtor 
 by gratitude, and our alienable friend by every solemn 
 obligation of civilized society, — the objection is our 
 strength, and the obstacle our battlement. Perhaps 
 when the Pope was in the power of our enemy, how- 
 
OU SPEECH^ 
 
 ever slendei: the pretext, bigotry might have rested 
 on it. The inference was false as to Ireland, and it 
 was ungenerous as to Rome. The Irish Catholic, 
 firm in his faith, bows to the Pontiff's spiritual supre- 
 macy, but he would spurn the Pontiff's temporal inter- 
 ference. If, with the spirit of an earthly domination, 
 he were to issue to-morrow his despotic mandate, Cath- 
 olic Ireland, with one voice, would answer him: "Sire, 
 we bow with reverence to your spiritual mission : the 
 descendant of Saint Peter, we freely acknowledge you 
 the head of our church, and the organ of our creed : 
 but, Sire, if we have a church, we cannot forget that 
 we also have a country ; and when you attempt tQ 
 convert your mitre into a crown, and your crozier into 
 a sceptre, you degrade the majesty of your high dele- 
 gation, and grossly miscalculate upon our acquies- 
 4'ence. No foreign power shall regulate the allegi- 
 ance which we owe to our sovereign ; it was the fault 
 of our fathers that one Pope forged our fetters ; it will 
 be our own, if we allow them to be riveted by another." 
 Such Avould be the answer of universal Ireland ; such 
 was her answer to the audacious menial, who dared to 
 dictate her unconditional submission to an act of Par- 
 liament which emancipated by penalties, and redress- 
 ed by insult. But, Sir, it never would have entered 
 into the contemplation of the Pope to have assumed 
 such an authority. His character was a sullicient 
 shield against the imputation, and his policy must have 
 taught him, that, in grasping at the shadow of a tem- 
 poral power, he should but risk the reality of his ec- 
 clesiastical supremacy. Thus was Parliament doubly 
 guarded against a foreign usurpation. The people 
 upon whom it was to act deprecate its authority, and 
 the power to which it was imputed abhors its ambi- 
 tion ; the Pope would not exert it if he could, and the 
 people would not obey it if he did. Just precisely up- 
 on the same foundation rested the aspersions which 
 T/ere cast upon your creed. How did experience jusv 
 
AT DUBLIN. 61 
 
 iTy them ? Did Lord Wellington find that religious 
 faith made any difference amid the thunder of the bat- 
 tle? Did the Spanish soldier desert his colours because 
 his General believed not in the real presence ? Did the 
 brave Portuguese neglect his orders to negociate about 
 mysteries ? Or what comparison did the hero draw 
 between the policy of England and the piety of Spain, 
 when at one moment he led the heterodox legions to 
 victory, and the very next was obliged to fly from his 
 own native flag, waving defiance on the walls of Bor- 
 gos, where the Irish exile planted and sustained it ? 
 What must he have felt when in a foreign land he was 
 obliged to command brother against brother, to raise 
 the sword of blood, and drown the cries of nature with 
 the artillery of death ? What were the sensations of 
 our hapless exiles, when they recognized the features 
 of their long-lost country ? when they heard the ac- 
 cents of the tongue they loved, or caught the cadence 
 ©f the simple melody which once lulled them to sleep 
 within a mother's arms, and cheered the darling cir- 
 cle they must behold no more ? Alas, how the poor 
 banished heart delights in the memory that song as- 
 sociates ! He heard it in happier days, Avhen the pa- 
 rents he adored, the maid he loved, the friends of his 
 i^ul, and the green fields of his infancy were around 
 him ; when his labours were illumined with the sun- 
 shine of the heart, and his humble hut was a palace — 
 for it was home. His soul is full, his eye suffused, he 
 bends from the battlements to catch the cadence, 
 when his death-shot, sped by a brother's hand, lays 
 him in his grave — the victim of a code calling itself 
 Christian ! Who shall say, heart-rending as it is, this 
 picture is from fancy ? Has it not occurred in Spain ? 
 May it not, at this instant, be acting in America ? Is 
 there any country in the universe in which these brave 
 exiles of a barbarous bigotry are not to be found refu- 
 ting the calumnies that banished, and rewarding the 
 hospitality that received them ? Yet England, ea- 
 
o2 SPEECH 
 
 lightened Eugland, >vIio sees them m every field of 
 the old world and the new, defendmgthe -.arious flags 
 of eveiy faith, supports the injustice of her exclusive 
 constitution, by branding upon them the ungenerous 
 accusation of an exclusive creed ! England, the ally 
 of Catholic Portugal, the ally of Catholic Spain, the 
 ally of Catholic France, the Friend of the Pope ! 
 England, vvlio seated a Catholic bigot in Madrid ! who 
 convoyed a Catholic Braganza to the Brazils ! who en- 
 thmned a Catholic Bourbon in Paris! who guaranteed 
 a Catholic establishment in Canada ! who gave a con- 
 stitution to Catholic Hanover ! England, who searches 
 the globe for Catholic grievances to redress, and Ca- 
 tholic Princes to restore, will not trust the Catholic at 
 home, who spends his blood and treasure in her ser- 
 vice ! ! Is this generous ? Is this consistent? Is it just? 
 Is it even polite ? Is it the act of a wise country to fet- 
 ter the energies of an entire population ? Is it the act 
 ©f a Christian country to do it in the name of God ? 
 Is it politic in a government to degrade part of the 
 body by which it is supported, or pious to make Pro- 
 vidence a party to their degradation ? There are so- 
 cieties in England for discountenancing vice ; there 
 are Christian associations for distributing the Bible ; 
 there are voluntary missions for converting the hea- 
 then : but Ireland, the seat of tlieir government, the 
 stay of their empire, their associate by all the ties of 
 nature and of interest ; how has she benefited by the 
 Gospel of which they boast ? Has the sweet spirit of 
 Christianity appeared on our plains in the character 
 of her precepts, breathing the air and robed in the 
 beauties of the world to which she would lead us ; 
 with no argument but love, no look but peace, no 
 wealth but piety ; her creed comprehensive as the 
 arch of heaven, and her charities bounded but by the 
 circle of creation ? Or, has she been let loose amongst 
 us, in form of fury, and in act of demon, her heart 
 Restored with the fu'es of hell, her hands clotted with 
 
AT DUBLIN. 68 
 
 the gore of earth, withering aUke in her repose and 
 in her progress, her path apparent by the print of 
 blood, and her pause denoted by the expanse of des- 
 olation ? Gospel of Heaven ! is this thy herald ? God 
 of the universe ! is this thy handmaid ? Christian of 
 the ascendency ! how would you answer the disbeliev- 
 ing infidel, if he asked you, should he estimate the 
 Christian doctrine by the Christian practice; if he 
 dwelt upon those periods when the human victim 
 writhed upon the altar of the peaceful Jesus, and the 
 cross, crimsoned with his blood, became litile better 
 than a stake to the sacrifice of his votaries 5 if he 
 pointed to Ireland, where the word of peace was the 
 war-whoop of destruction ; where the son was bribed 
 against the father, and the plunder of the parent's 
 property was made a bounty on the recantation of the 
 parent's creed; where the march of the human mind 
 '•vas stayed in his name who had inspired it with rea- 
 son, and any effort to liberate a fellow-creature from 
 his intellectual bondage was siu*e to be recompensed 
 by the dungeon or the scaffold ; where ignorance was 
 30 long a legislative command, and piety a legislative 
 crime ; where religion was placed as a barrier between 
 the sexes, and the intercourse of nature v,as pronoun- 
 ced felony by law ; where God's worship was an act 
 of stealth, and his ministers sought amongst the sava- 
 ges of the v^^oods that sanctuary which a nominal ci- 
 vilization had denied them ; where at this instant con- 
 science is made to blast every hope of genius, and 
 every energy of ambition, and the Catholic who wwild 
 rise to any station of trust, must, in the face of hi? 
 country, deny the faith of his fathers ; where the pre- 
 ferments of earth are only to be obtained by the for- 
 feiture of heaven ? 
 
 " Unprized are her sons till ihey learn lo betray, 
 L'ndistinguish'd they live if they shame not their sires ; 
 And the torch that would light them to dignity's way, 
 Musi be caught from the pile wkcre their country exi.ires I'" 
 
64 SPEECH 
 
 How, let rae ask, how Avoiild the Christian zealot droop 
 beneath this catalogue of Christian qualifications? But, 
 thus it is, when sectarians differ on account of myste- 
 ries ; in the heat and acrimony of the causeless con- 
 test, religion, the glory of one world, and the guide of 
 another, drifts from the splendid circle in which she 
 shone, in the comet-maze of uncertainty and error. 
 The code, against which you petition, is a vile com- 
 pound of impiety and impolicy : impiety, because it 
 debases in the name of God ; impolicy, because it dis- 
 qualifies under pretence of government. If we are to 
 argue from the services of Protestant Ireland, to the 
 losses sustained by the bondage of Catholic Ireland, 
 and I do not see why we shoidd not, the state which 
 continues such a system is guilty of little less than a 
 political suicide. It matters little where the Protes- 
 tant Irishman has been employed; whether with 
 Burke wielding the senate with his eloquence, with 
 Castlereagh guiding the cabinet by his counsels, with 
 Barry enriching the arts by his pencil, with Swift 
 adorning literature by his genius, with Goldsmith or 
 with Moore softening the heart by their melody, or 
 with Wellington chaining victory at his car, he may 
 boldly challenge the competition ol' the world. Op- 
 pressed and impoverished as our country is, every 
 muse has cheered, and every art adorned, and every con- 
 quest crowned her. Plundered, she was not poor, for 
 her character enriched ; attainted, she was not titleless, 
 for her services ennobled ; literally outlawed into emi- 
 nence and fettered into fame, the fields of her exile 
 were immortalized by her deeds, and the links of her 
 chain became decorated by her laurels. Is this fancy, 
 or is it fact ? Is there a department in the state in 
 which Irish genius does not possess a predominance ? 
 Is there a conquest which it does not achieve, or a 
 dignity which it does not adorn ? At this instant, is 
 there a country in the world to which England has not 
 deputed an Irishman as her representative ? She has 
 
AT DUBLIN. 65 
 
 5>ent Lord Moira to India, Sir Gore Ouseley to Ispa- 
 han, Lord Stuart to Vienna, Lord Castlereagh to Con- 
 gress, Sir Henry Wellesley to Madrid, Mr. Canning 
 to Lisbon, Lord Strangford to the Brazils, Lord Clan- 
 carty to Holland, Lord Wellington to Paris — all Irish- 
 men ! Whether it results from accident or from 
 merit, can there be a more cutting sarcasm on the 
 policy of England ! Is it not directly saying to her, 
 ^* here is a country from one-fifth of whose people 
 you depute the agents of your most august delegation, 
 the remaining four-fifths of which by your odious 
 bigotry, you incapacitate from any station of oihce or 
 of trust i'' It is adding all that is weak in impolicy to 
 all that is wicked in ingi-atitude. What is her apolo- 
 gy ? Will she pretend that the Deity imitates her in- 
 justice, and incapacitates the intellect as she has done 
 the creed ? After making Providence a pretence for 
 her code, will she also make it a party to her crime, 
 and arraign the universal spirit of partiality in his dis- 
 pensation ? Is she not content with Him as a Protes- 
 tant God, unless He also consents to become a Catho- 
 lic demon ? But, if the charge were true, if the Irish 
 Catholic were imbruted and debased, Ireland's con- 
 viction would be England's crime, and your answer to 
 the bigot's charge should be the bigot's conduct. 
 What, then ! is this the result of six centuries of your 
 government ? Is this the connexion which you called 
 a benefit to Ireland ? Have your protecting laws so 
 debased them, that the very privilege of reason is 
 worthless in their possession ? Shame ! Oh shame ? 
 to the government where the people are barbarous ? 
 The day is not distant when they made the education 
 of a Catholic a crime, and yet they arraign the 
 Catholic for ignorance ! The day is not distant when 
 they proclaimed the celebration of the CathoUc wor- 
 ship a felony, and yet they proclaim that the Catho- 
 lic 's not moral ! What folly ! Is n to be expected 
 that the people ai*e to emerge in a moment fronx the 
 F 
 
&^ i<PEECH 
 
 •stupor of a protracted degradation ? There is not per- 
 haps to be traced upon the map of national misfortune 
 a spot so truly and so tediously deplorable as Ireland, 
 Other lands, no doubt, have had their calamities. To 
 the horrors of revolution, the miseries of despotism, 
 fhe scourges of anarchy, tliey have in their turns been 
 subject. But it has been only in their turns ; the 
 visitations of wo, though severe, have not been eternal ; 
 the hour of probation, or of punishment, has passed 
 away ; and the tempest, after having emptied the vial 
 of its wrath, has given place to the serenity of the 
 calm and of the sunshine. — Has this been the case 
 with respect to our miserable country ? Is there, save 
 in the visionary world of tradition — is there in the 
 progress, either of record or recollection, one verdant 
 spot in the desert of our annals where patriotism can 
 tind repose, or philanthropy refreshment ? Oh, indeed, 
 posterity will pause with wonder on the melancholy 
 page which shall portray the story of a people among 
 whom the policy of man has waged an eternal warfare 
 with the providence oi'God, blighting into deformity 
 all that was beauteous, and into famine all that was 
 abundant. I repeat, however, the charge to be false. 
 The Catholic mind in Ireland has made advances 
 scarcely to be hoped in the short interval of its partial 
 emancipation. But what encouragement has the Cath- 
 olic parent to educate his offspring ? Suppose he sends 
 his son, the hope of his pride and the wealth of his 
 heart, into the army; the child justifies his parental 
 anticipation ; he is moral in his habits, he is strict in 
 his discipline, he is daring in the field, and temperate 
 at the board, and patient in the camp ; the first in the 
 charge, and the last in the retreat ; with a hand to 
 iichieve, and a head to guide, and temper to conciliate 5 
 lie combines tlie skill of Wellingtaii with the clemency 
 pf Cirsar and the courage of Turenne — yet he can 
 never rise—he is a Catholic /—Tnke another instance. 
 Suppose him at the bar. He lias spent his nights at 
 
AT DUBLm. 37 
 
 the lamp, and his days in the forum ; the rose has 
 withered from his cheek mid the drudgery of form ; 
 the spirit has fainted in his heart mid the analysis of 
 crime ; he has foregone the pleasures of his youth, 
 and the associates of his heart, and all the fairy en- 
 chantments in which fancy may have wrapped him ! 
 Alas ! for what ? Though genius flashed from his 
 eye, and eloquence rolled from his lips : though he 
 spoke with the tongue of Tully, and argued with the 
 learning of Coke, and thought with the purity of 
 Flet<:her, he can never rise — he is a Catholic ! Mer- 
 ciful God ! what a state of society is this, in which thy 
 worship is interposed as a disqualification upon thy 
 providence ! Behold, in a word, the effects of the code 
 against which you petition; it disheartens exertion, it 
 disqualifies merit, it debilitates the state, it degrades 
 the Godhead, it disobeys Christianity, it makes reli- 
 gion an article of traffic, and its founder a monopoly ; 
 and for ages it has reduced a country, blessed with 
 every beauty of nature and every bounty of provi- 
 dence, to a state unparalleled under any constitution 
 professing to be free, or any government pretending 
 to be civilized. To justify this enormity, there is 
 now no argument. Now is the time to concede with 
 dignity that which was never denied without injustice. 
 Who can tell how soon we may require all the zeal of 
 our united population to secure our very existence ? 
 Who can argue upon the continuance of this calm ? 
 Have we not seen the labour of ages overthrown, and 
 the whim of a day erected on its ruins 5 establishments 
 the most solid withering at a word, and visions the 
 most whimsical realized at a wish ; crowns crumbled, 
 discords confederated, kings become vagabonds, and 
 vagabonds made kings at the capricious phrenzy of a 
 village adventurer ? Have we not seen the whole poli- 
 tical and moral world shaking as with an earthquake,, 
 and shapes the most fantastic and formidable and 
 frightful heaved into life by the quiverings of the con- 
 
03 SPEECH 
 
 viilsion ? The storm has passed over us j England has 
 survived it ; if she is wise, her present prosperity will 
 be but the handmaid to her justice ; if she is pious, the 
 peril she has escaped will be but the herald of her ex- 
 piation. Thus much have I said in the way of argu- 
 ment to the enemies of your question. Let me ofler 
 a humble opinion to its friends. The first and ahnost 
 the sole request which £ui advocate would make to you 
 is, to remain united ; rely on it, a divided assault can 
 never overcome a consolidated resistance. I allow that 
 an educated aristocracy are as a head to the people, 
 without which they cannot think ; but then the people 
 are as hands to the aristocracy, without which it can- 
 not act. Concede, then, a little to even each other's 
 prejudices ; recollect that individual sacrifice is univer- 
 sal strength ; and can there be a nobler altar than the 
 altar of your country? This same spirit of conciliation 
 should be extended even to your enemies. If Eng- 
 land will not consider that a brow of suspicion is but a 
 bad accompaniment to an act of grace; if she will not 
 ellow that kindness may make those friends whom 
 even oppression could not make foes ; if she will not 
 confess that the best security she can have from Ire- 
 land is by giving Ireland an interest in her constitution; 
 still, since her power is the shield of her prejudices, 
 you should concede where you camiot conquer ; it is 
 wisdom to yield when it has become hopeless to com- 
 bat. 
 
 There is but one concession which I would never 
 advise, and which, were I a Catholic, I would never 
 make. You will perceive that I allude to any inter- 
 ference with your clergy. That was the crime of Mr. 
 Grattan's security bill. It made the patronage of your 
 religion the ransom for your liberties, and bought the 
 favour of the crown with the surrender of the church. 
 It is a vicious principle, it is the cause of all your sor- 
 rows. If there had not been a state establishment, 
 thera would not have beeia a Catholic bondage. By 
 
AT DUBLIN. Sd 
 
 that iiicesfiious conspiracy between the altar and the 
 throne, infideHty has achieved a more extended domin- 
 ion than by all the sophisms of her philosophy, or all 
 the terrors of her persecution. It makes God's apostle 
 a court-appendage, and God himself a court-purveyor, 
 it carves the cross into a chair of state, where, with 
 grace on his brow, and gold in his hand, the little per- 
 ishable puppet of this world's vanity makes Omnipo* 
 tence a menial to its power, and eternity a pander to 
 its profits. Be not a party to it. As you have spurned 
 the temporal interference of the Pope, resist the spirit- 
 ual jurisdiction of the crown. As I do not think that 
 you, on the one hand, could surrender the patronage 
 of your religion to the King, without the most uncon- 
 scientious compromise, so, on the other hand, I do not 
 think the King could ever conscientiously receive it. 
 Suppose he receives it ; if he exercises it for the ad- 
 vantage of your church, he directly violates the coro- 
 nation-oath which binds him to the exclusive interests 
 of the Church of England ; and if he does not intend 
 to exercise it for your advantage, to what purpose does 
 he require from you its surrender ? But what pretence 
 has England for this interference with your religion ? 
 It was the religion of her most glorious era, it was the 
 religion of her most ennobled patriots,^ it was the reli- 
 gion of the wisdom that framed her constitution, it was 
 the religion of the valour that achieved it, it v/ould 
 have been to this day the religion of her empire, had 
 it not been for the lawless lust of a murderous adulter- 
 er. What right has she to suspect your church ? 
 When her thousand sects were brandishing the frag- 
 ments of their faith against each other, and Christ saw 
 his garment, without a seam, a piece of patch-work for 
 every mountebank who figured in the pantomime j 
 when her Babel temple rocked at every breath of her 
 Priestley s and her Paynes, Ireland, proof against the 
 ynenace of her power, was also proof against the peril- 
 ous impiety of her example. But if as Catholics yoa 
 F 2 
 
•70 SPEECH 
 
 should guard it, the palladium of your creed, not les^ 
 as Irishmen should you prize it, the relic of yourcoun* 
 try. Deluge after deluge has desolated her provinces. 
 The monuments of art which escaped the barbarism 
 of one invader fell beneath the still more savage civil- 
 ization of another. Alone, amid the solitude, your 
 temple stood like some majestic monument amid the 
 desert of antiquity, just in its proportions, sublime in 
 its associations, rich in the virtue of its saints, cement- 
 ed by the blood of its martyrs, pouring forth for ages 
 the unbroken series of its venerable hierarchy, and 
 only the more magnificent from the ruins by which it 
 was surrounded. Oh ! do not for any temporal boon 
 betray the great principles which are to purchase you 
 an eternity ! Here, from your very sanctuary, — here, 
 with my hand on the endangered altars of your faith, 
 in the name of that God, for the freedom of whose 
 worship we are so nobly struggling, I conjure you, let 
 no unholy hand profane the sacred ark of your reli- 
 gion ; preserve it inviolate ; its light is " light from 
 heaven ;" follow it through all the perils of your jour- 
 ney ; and, like the fiery pillar of the captive Israel, it 
 will cheer the desert of your bondage, and guide to 
 ^he land of your liberation! 
 
PETITION 
 
 REFERRED TO IN THE PRECEDING SPEECH^ 
 DRAWN BY MR. PHILLIPS, 
 
 AT THE REQUEST OF 
 
 THE ROMAN CATHOLICS OF IRELAND. 
 
 To the Honourable the Commons of the United King- 
 dom of Great Britain and Ireland, in Parliament 
 assembled: 
 
 The humble Petition of the Romrai Catholics of Ire- 
 land, whose names are undersigned, on behalf of 
 themselves, and others, professing the Roman Ca- 
 tholic Religion, 
 
 ^EWETH, 
 
 That we, the Roman Catholic people of Ireland, 
 again approach the legislature with a statement of the 
 grievances under which we labour, and of which we 
 most respectfully, but at the same time most firmly, 
 solicit the effectual redress. Our wrongs are so noto- 
 rious, and so numerous, that their minute detail is 
 quite unnecessary, and would indeed be impossible, 
 were it deemed expedient. Ages of persecution on 
 the one hand, and of patience on the other, sufficient- 
 ly attest our sufferings and our submission. Privations 
 have been answered only by petition, indignities by 
 remonstrance, injuries by forgiveness. It has been a 
 misfortune to have suffered for the sake of our reli- 
 gion 5 but it has also been a pride to have borne the 
 
I'l PETITION. 
 
 best testimony to the purity of our doctrine, by the 
 meekness of our endurance. 
 
 We have sustained the power which spurned us ; we 
 have nerved the arm which smote us ; we have lavish- 
 ed our strength, our talent, and our treasures, and 
 buoyed up, on the prodigal effusion of our young- 
 blood, the triumphant Ark of British Liberty. 
 
 We approach, then, with confidence, an enlighten- 
 ed legislature ; in the name of Nature, we ask our 
 rights as men ; in the name of the Constitution, we 
 ask our privileges as subjects ; in the name of God, 
 we ask the sacred protection of unpersecuted piety as 
 Christians. 
 
 Are securities required of us ? We offer them — the 
 best securities a throne can have — the affections of 
 a whole people. We offer faith that was never viola- 
 ted, hearts that were never corrupted^ valour that ne- 
 ver crouched. Every hour of peril has proved our 
 allegiance, and every field of Europe exhibits its ex- 
 ample. 
 
 We abjure all temporal authority, except that of our 
 sovereign ; we acknowledge no civil pre-eminence, 
 save that of our constitution ; and, for our lavish and 
 voluntary expenditure, we only ask a reciprocity of 
 benefits. 
 
 Sepai'ating, as we do, our civil rights from our 
 spiritual duties, we humbly desire that they may not 
 be confounded. We •* render unto Ctesar the things 
 that are Cicsar's,'' but we must also " render unto God 
 the things that are God's." Our church could not 
 descend to claim a state authority, nor do we ask for 
 it a state aggrandizement : its hopes, its powers, and 
 its pretensions, are of another world ; and, when we 
 raise our hands most humbly to the state, our prayer 
 is not, that the fetters may be transferred to the hands 
 which are raised for us to Heaven. We would not 
 erect a splendid shrine even to liberty on the ruins of 
 the temple. 
 
PETITION. 73 
 
 In behalf, then, of five millions of a brave and loyal 
 people, we call upon the lerislature to annihilate the 
 odious bondage which bows down the mental, physical 
 and moral energies of Ireland ; and, in the name of 
 that Gospel which breathes charity towards all, we 
 seek freedom of conscience for all the inhabitants of 
 the British empire. 
 
 May it therefore please this honourable House to 
 abolish all penal and disabling laws, which in any 
 manner infringe religious liberty, or restrict the free 
 enjoyment of the sacred rights of conscience, within 
 Thes« realms. 
 
 And your petitioners will ev«r pray. 
 
THE ADDRESS 
 
 TO 
 
 H. R. H. THE PRINCESS OF WALES: 
 DRJJFN BY MR. PHILLIPS, 
 
 AT THE REQUEST OP 
 
 THE ROMAN CATHOLICS OF IRELAND, 
 
 May it please your Royal Highness, 
 
 Wej the Roman Catholic people of Ireland, beg 
 leave to ofier our unfeigned congratulations on j^our 
 providential escape from the conspiracy which so lately 
 endangered both your life and honour — a conspiracy, 
 unmanly in its motives, unnatural in its object, and 
 unworthy in its means — a conspiracy combining so 
 monstrous an union of turpitude and treason, that it is 
 difficult to say, whether royalty would have suffered 
 more from its success, than human nature has from its 
 conception. Our allegiance is not less shocked at the 
 infernal spirit, which would sully the diadem, by 
 breathing on its most precious ornament, the virtue of 
 its wearer, than our best feelings are at the inhospita- 
 ble baseness, which would betray the innocence of a 
 female in a land of strangers ! ! 
 
 Deem it not disrespectful, illustrious lad}- , that from 
 a per»ple proverbially ardent in the cause of the de- 
 fenceless, tlie shout of virtuous congratulation sli'>nld 
 receive a feeble echo. Our harp has long been unused 
 
76 ADDRESS. 
 
 to tones of gladness, and our hills but faintly answer 
 the unusual accent. Your heart, however, can appre- 
 ciate the silence inflicted by sufi'ering ; and ours, alas, 
 feels but too acutely, that the commiseiation is sincere 
 which flows from sympathy. 
 
 Let us hope that, when congratulating virtue in 
 your royal person, on her signal triumph over the per- 
 jured, the profligate, and the corrupt, we may also re- 
 joice in the completion of its consequences. Let us 
 hope that the society of your only child again solaces 
 your dignified retirement ; and that, to the misfortune 
 of being a widowed wife, is not added the pang of 
 being a childless mother ! 
 
 But if, Madam, our hopes are not fulfilled ; if, in- 
 deed, the cry of an indignant and unanimous people is 
 disregarded, console yourself with the reflection, that, 
 though your exiled daughter may not hear the pre- 
 cepts of virtue from your lips, she may at least study 
 the practice of it in your example. 
 
A SPEECH 
 
 DELIVERED BY MR. PHILLIPS, 
 
 AT A PUBLIC DINNER GIVEN TO HIM BY THE 
 
 FRIEJfDS OF CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY 
 
 IN LIVERPOOL. 
 
 Believe me, Mr. Chairman, I feel too sensibly the 
 high and unmerited compliment you have paid me, to 
 attempt any other return than the simple expression 
 of my gratitude ; to be just, I must be silent ; but 
 though the tongue is mute, my heart is much more 
 than eloquent. The kindness of friendship, the tes- 
 timony of any class, however humble, carries with it 
 no trifling gratification ; but stranger as I am, to be so 
 distinguished in this great city, whose wealth is its 
 least commendation ; the emporium of commerce, lib- 
 erahty and public spirit; the birth-place of talent; the 
 residence of integrity ; tlie field where freedom seems 
 to have rallied the last allies of her cause, as if with the 
 nuble consciousness that, though patriotism could not 
 wreath the laurel round her brow, genius should at 
 least raise it over her ashes ; to be so distinguished, 
 Sir, and in such a place, does, I confess, inspire me 
 with a vanity which even a sense of my unimportance 
 cannot entirely silence. Indeed, Sir, the ministerial 
 critics of Liverpool were right. I have no claim to 
 this enthusiastic welcome. But I cannot look upon 
 this testimonial so much as a tribute to myself, as an 
 omen to that country with whose fortunes the dearest 
 G 
 
78 bPEECH 
 
 sympathies of my soul are intertwined. Oli yes, 1 do 
 foresee wliejii she shall hear with what courtesy her 
 most pretensionless advocate has heen treated, how 
 the same wind that wafts her the intelligence, will re- 
 vive that flame within lier, which the blood of ages has 
 not been able to extinguish. It may be a delusive 
 hope, but lam glad to grasp at any phantom that flits 
 across the solitude of that country's desolation. On 
 this subject you can scarcely be ignorant, for you have 
 an Irishman resident amongst you, whom I am proud 
 to call my friend ; whose fiidelity to Ireland no absence 
 can diminish ; who has at once the honesty to be can- 
 did, and the talent to be convincing. I need scarcely 
 say I allude to Mr. Casey. I knew, Sir, the statue 
 was loo striking to require a name upon the pedestal. 
 Alas, Ireland has little now to console her, except the 
 consciousness of having produced such men. — It 
 would be a reasonable adulation in me to deceive you. 
 Six centuries of base misgovernment, of causeless, 
 ruthless, and ungrateful persecution, have now redu- 
 ced that country to a crisis, at which I know not whe- 
 ther the friend of hmnanity has most cause to grieve 
 or rejoice ; because I am not sure that the feeling 
 which prompts the tear at human sufferings, ought not 
 to triumph in that increased infliction which may at 
 ]ength tire them out of endurance. I trust in God a 
 change of system may in time anticipate the results of 
 desperation ; but you may quite depend on it, a period 
 is approaching, wlien, if penalty does not pause in the 
 pursiiit, patience will turn short on the pursuer. Can 
 you wonder at it ? Contemplate Ireland during any 
 given period of England's rule, and what a picture 
 does she exhibit ! Behold her created in all the prodi- 
 gality of nature; with a soil that anticipates the hus- 
 bandman's desire ; with harbours courting the com- 
 merce of the world; with rivers capable of the most 
 effective navigation ; with the ore of every metal strug- 
 gling through her surface ; with a people, brave, gen- 
 
AT LIVERPOOL, 79 
 
 erous^ and intellectual, literally forcing their way 
 through the disabilities of their own country hito the 
 higiiest stations of every other, and well rewarding the 
 policy that promotes them, by achievements the most 
 heroic, and allegiance without a blemish. How have 
 the successive governments of England demeaned 
 themselves to a nation, oii'ering such an accumulation 
 of moral and political advantages ! See it in the state 
 of Ireland at this instant ; in the universal bankruptcy 
 that overwhelms her ; in the loss of her trade ; in the 
 tinnihilation of her manufactures ; in the deluge of her 
 debt ; in the divisions of her people ; in all the loath- 
 some operations of an odious, monopolizing, hypocri- 
 tical fanaticism on the one hand, wrestlhig w ith the 
 untiring but natural repriseilsof an irritated population 
 on the other ! It required no common ingenuity to re- 
 duce such a country to such a situation. But it has 
 been done ; man has conquered the heneficence of the 
 Deity : his harpy touch has changed the viands to cor- 
 ruption; and that land, which you might have possess- 
 ed in health, and wealth, and vigour, to support you 
 in your hour of need, now writhes in the agonies of 
 death, unable even to lift the shroud with which fam- 
 ine and fatuity try to encumber her convulsion. This 
 is what I see a pensioned press denominates tranquil- 
 lity. Oh, wo to the land threatened with such tran- 
 quillity, solitud'uiem faciunty pacem appellant ; it is 
 not yet the tranquillity of solitude; it is not yet the 
 tranquillity of death ; but if you would know what it 
 is, go forth in the silence of creation, when every wind 
 is hushed, and every echo mute, and all nature seems 
 to listen in dumb and terrified and breathless expecta- 
 tion, go forth in such an hour, and see the terrible 
 tranquillity l)y which you are surrounded ! How could 
 it be otherwise, when for ages upon ages invention has 
 fatigued itself with expedients for irritation ; when, as 
 J have read with horror in the progress of my legal 
 jBtu.dies. the homicide of a "mere Irishman" was con- 
 
so SPEECH 
 
 sidered justifiable ; and when his ignorance was the 
 origin of all his crimes, his education was prohibited 
 by act of Farliament ! — when the people were worm- 
 eaten by the odious vermin which a church and state 
 adultery had spawned ; when a bad heart and brainless 
 head were the fangs by which every foreign adventur- 
 er and domestic traitor fastened upon office ; when the 
 property of the native was but an invitation to plunder, 
 and his non-acquiescence the signal for confiscation ; 
 when religion itself was made the odious pretence for 
 every persecution, and the fires of hell were alternately 
 lighted with the cross, and quenched in the blood of 
 its defenceless followers ! I speak of times that are 
 passed : but can their recollections, can their conse- 
 quences be so readily eradicated ? Why, however, 
 should I refer to periods that are so distant ? Behold 
 at this instant, five millions of her people disqualified. 
 on account of their faitli, and that by a country pro- 
 fessing freedom ! and that under a government calling 
 itself Christian ! You (when I say you,of course I mean 
 not the high-minded people of England, but the men 
 who misgovern us both) seem to have taken out a ro- 
 ving commission in search of grievances abroad, whilst 
 you overlook the calamities at your own door, and of 
 your own infliction. You traverse the ocean to eman- 
 cipate the African ; you cross the line to convert the 
 Hindoo ; you hurl your thunder against the savage 
 Algerine ; but your own brethren at home, who speak 
 the same tongue, acknowledge the same King, and 
 kneel to the same God, cannot get one visit from .our 
 Itinerant humanitij ! Oh, such a system is almost too 
 abominable for a name ; it is a monster of impiety, im- 
 policy, ingi'atitude, and injustice ! The pagan nations 
 of antiquity scarcely acted on such barbarous princi- 
 ples. Look to ancient Rome, with her sword in one 
 hand and her constitution in the other, healing the in- 
 juries of conquest with the embrace of brotherhood, 
 and wisely «©nverting the captive into the citizeiv 
 
AT LIVERPOOL. 81 
 
 Look to lier c,aeat enemy, the glorious Carthaginian, 
 at the foot of the Alps, ranging his prisoners round 
 him, and by the politic option of captivity or arms, re- 
 cruiting his legions with the very men whom he had 
 literally conquered into gratitude ! They laid their 
 foundations deep in the human heart, and their success 
 was proportionate to their policy. You complain of the 
 violence of the Irish Catholic : can you wonder he is vi- 
 olent ? It is the consequence of your own inflictions—^ 
 
 "The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear, 
 The blood will follow where the knife is driven." 
 
 Your friendship has been to him worse than hostility ; 
 he feels its embrace but by the pressure of his fetters f 
 I am only amazed he is not more violent. He fdls 
 your exchequer, he fights your battles, he feeds your 
 clergy from whom he derives no beneJfit, he shares 
 your burdens, he shares your perils, he shares every 
 thing except your privileges — can you loonder he is 
 tnolent ? No matter what his merit, no matter what 
 his claims, no matter what his services ; he sees him- 
 self a nominal subject and a real slave ; and his chil- 
 dren, the heirs, perhaps of his toils, perhaps of his 
 talents, certainly of his disqualifications — can you icon- 
 der he is violent ? He sees every pretended obstacle 
 to his emancipation vanished ; Catholic Europe your 
 ally, the Bourbon on the throne, the Emperor a cap- 
 tive, the Pope a friend, the aspersions on his faith dis- 
 proved by his allegiance to you against, alternately, 
 every Catholic potentate in Christendom, and he feels 
 himself branded with hereditary degradation — can 
 you loondcr, then, that he is violent? He petitioned 
 humbly : his tameness was construed into a proof of 
 apathy. He petitioned boldly ; his remonstrance was 
 considered as an impudent audacity. He petitioned 
 in peace, he was told it was not the time. He petition- 
 ed in war, he was told it was not the time. A strange 
 intervalj a prodigy in politics, a pause between peace 
 G 2 
 
82 SPEECH 
 
 and war, which appeared to be just made for him^ 
 arose ; I allude to the period between the retreat of 
 Louis and the restoration of Bonaparte ; he petition- 
 ed then, and he was told it was not the time. Oh, 
 shame ! shame ! shame ! I hope he will petition no 
 more to a parliament so equivocating. However, I 
 am not sorry they did so equivocate, because I think 
 they have suggested one common remedy for the 
 grievances of both countries, and that remedy is, a 
 Reform of that Parliament. Without that, I 
 plainly see, there is no hope for Ireland, there is no 
 salvation for England ; they will act towards you as 
 they have done towards us; they will admit your 
 reasoning, they will admire your eloquence, and they 
 will prove their sincerity by a strict perseverance in 
 the impolicy you have exposed, and the profligacy 
 ■you have deprecated. Look to England at this mo- 
 ment. To what a state have they not reduced her ! 
 Over this vast island, for whose wealth the winds of 
 Heaven seemed to blow, covered as she once was with 
 the gorgeous mantle of successful agriculture, all 
 studded over with the gems of art and manufacture, 
 there is now scarce an object but industry in rags, 
 and patience in despair; the merchant without a 
 leger, the fields without a harvest, the shops without 
 a customer, the Exchange deserted, and the Gazette 
 ( rowded, from the most heait-rending comments on 
 that nefarious system, in support of which, peers and 
 contractors, stock-jobbers and sinecurists, in short, the 
 whole trained, collared, pampered, and rapacious pack 
 of ministerial beagles, have been, for half a century, 
 in the most clamorous and discordant uproar ! During 
 all this misery how are the pilots of the state employ- 
 ed ? Why, in feeding the bloated mammoth of sine- 
 cure ! in weighing the farthings of some underling's 
 salary ! in preparing Ireland for a garrison, and Eng- 
 land for a poor-house! in the structure of Chinese 
 v>a!aces ! the decor^tinn of dragoon?, and the erectior^ 
 
AT LIVERPOOL. 83 
 
 of public buildings ! ! ! Ob, it's easily seen Ave have a 
 saint in the Exchequer ! he has studied Scripture to 
 some purpose ! the famishing people cry out for 
 bread, and the scriptural minister gives them stones ! 
 Such has been the result of the blessed Pitt system, 
 which amid oceans of blood, and eight hundred 
 millions expenditure, has left you, after all your vic- 
 tories, a triumphant dupe, a trophied bankrupt. I 
 have heard before of states ruined by the visitations 
 of Providence, devastated by famine, wasted by fire, 
 overcome by enemies; but never until now did I see 
 a state like England, impoverished by her spoils, and 
 conquered by her successes ! She lias fought the fight 
 of Europe; she has purchased all its coinable blood; 
 she has subsidized all its dependencies in their own 
 cause ; she has conquered by sea, she has conquered 
 by land ; she has got peace, and, of course, or the Pitt 
 apostles would not have made peace, she has got her 
 *' indemnity for the past, and security for the future," 
 and here she is, after all her vanity and all her victo- 
 ries, surrounded by desolation, like one of the pyra- 
 mids of Egypt ; amid the grandeur of the desert, full 
 of magnificence and death, at once a trophy and a 
 tomb ! The heart of any reflecting man must burn 
 within him, when he thinks that the war thus san- 
 guinary in its operations, and confessedly ruinous in 
 its expenditure, was even still more odious in its prin- 
 ciple ! It was a war avowedly undertaken for the pur- 
 pose of fcTi'cing France out of her undoubted right of 
 choosing her own monarch ; a war which uprooted 
 the very foundation of the English constitution ; 
 which libelled the most glorious era in our national 
 annals ; which declared tyranny eternal, and an- 
 nounced to the people, amid the thunder of artillery, 
 that, no matter how aggrieved, their only allowable 
 attitude was that of supplication ; which, when it told 
 the French reformer of 1793, that his defeat was just, 
 told the British reformer of 1088. his triumph was trea-* 
 
m SPEECH 
 
 son, and exliibited to history the terrific farce of a 
 Prince of the House of BrunsAvick, the creature of the 
 Revohition, offering a human hecatomb upon the 
 GRAVE OF James the Second ! ! What else have you 
 done ? You have succeeded indeed in dethroning Na- 
 poleon, and you have dethroned a monarch, who, with 
 all his imputed crimes and vices, shed a splei.dour 
 around ro} alty, too powerful for the feeble vision of 
 legitimacy even to bear. He had many faults ; I do 
 not seek to palliate them. He deserted his principles ; 
 I rejoice that he has suffered. But still let us be 
 generous even in our enmities. How grand was his 
 march! How magnificent his destiny ! Say what we 
 will; Sir, he will be the landmark of our times in the 
 eye of posterity. The goal of other men's speed was 
 his starting-post ; crowns were his play-things, thrones 
 his footstool ; he strode from victory to victory ; his 
 path was '' a plane of continued elevations.*' Surpas- 
 sing the boast of the too confident Roman, lie but 
 stamped upon the earth, and not only armed men, 
 but states and dynasties, and arts and sciences, all that 
 mind could imaghie, or industry produce, started up, 
 the creation of enchantment. He has fallen — as the 
 Jate Mr. Whitebread said, ^\vou made him, and he 
 unmade himself*' — his own ambition was his glorious 
 conqueror. He attempted, with a sublime audacity, 
 to grasp the fires of Hea\en, and his heathen retribu- 
 tion has been the vulture and the rock ! ! I do not ask 
 what you have gained by it, because, in place of 
 gaining any thing, you are infinitely worse than when 
 you commenced the contest ! But what have you done 
 for Europe ? What have you achieved for man ? 
 Have morals been ameliorated ? Has liberty been 
 strengthened ? Has any one improvement in politics 
 or philosophy been produced ? Let us see how. You 
 have restored to Portugal a Prince of whom we know 
 nothing, except that, when his dominions were inva»- 
 ded, his people distracted, his crown ifi dangerj and 
 
AT LIVERPOOL. 85 
 
 uU that could interest the highest energies of man at 
 issue, he left his cause to be combated by foreign bay- 
 onets, and fled with a dastard precipitation to the 
 shameful security of a distant hemisphere ! You have 
 restored to Spain a wretch of even worse than prover- 
 bial princely ingratitude ; who filled his dungeons, and 
 fed his rack with the heroic remnant that braved war, 
 and famine, and massacre beneath his banners ; who 
 rewarded patriotism with the prison, fidelity with the 
 torture, heroism with the scaffold, and piety with the 
 Inquisition ; whose royalty was published by the sig- 
 nature of death warrants, and whose religion evapora- 
 ted in the embroidering of petticoats for the Blessed 
 Virgin ! You have forced upon France a family to 
 whom misfortune could teach no mercj/, or experience 
 wisdom ; vindictive in prosperity, servile in defeat, ti- 
 mid in the field, vacillating in the cabinet; suspicion 
 amongst themselves, discontent amongst their follow- 
 ers; their memories tenacious but of the punishments 
 they had provoked, their piety active but in subservi- 
 ency to their priesthood, and their power passive but 
 in the subjugation of their people ! Such are the dy- 
 nasties you have conferred on Europe. In the very 
 act, that of enthroning three individuals of the same 
 family, you have committed in politics a capital error; 
 but Providence has countermined the ruin you were 
 preparing ; and whilst the impolicy presents the chance, 
 their impotency precludes the danger of a coalition. 
 As to the rest of Europe, how has it been ameliorated ? 
 What solitary benefit have the "deliverers" conferred ? 
 They have partitioned the states of the feeble to feed 
 the rapacity of the powerful ; and after having alter- 
 nately adored and deserted Napoleon.theyhave wreak- 
 ed their vengeance on the noble, but unfortunate fidel- 
 ity that spurned their example. Do you want proofs ; 
 look to Saxony, look to Genoa, look to Norway, but, 
 above all, look to Poland ! that speaking monuxnent of 
 segal muixier and legitimate robbery— ^ 
 
86 SPEECH 
 
 Oh ! bloodiest picture in (he book of time-— 
 Sarinatia fell — unwept — without a criuic ! 
 
 Here was an opportunity to recompense that brave, 
 heroic, generous, martyred, and devoted people ; here 
 was an opportunity to convince Jacobinism that crowns 
 and crimes were not, of course, co-existent, and that 
 the highway rapacity of one generation might be ato- 
 ned by the penitential retribution of another ! Look 
 to Italy ; parcelled out to temporizing Austria — the 
 land of the muse, tlie historian, and the hero ; the 
 ^cene (»f every classic recollection; the sacred fane of 
 antiquity, where the genius of the world weeps and 
 worsiiips, and the spirits of the past start into life at 
 the inspiring pilgrimage of some kindred Roscoe. 
 You do yourselves honour by this noble, this natural 
 enthusiasm. Long may you enjoy the pleasure of 
 possessing, never can you lose the pride of having pro- 
 duced the scholar without pedantry, the patriot with- 
 out reproach, the Christian without superstition, the 
 man without a blemish ! It is a subject I could dwell 
 on with delight for ever. How painful our transition 
 to the disgusting path of the deliverers. Look to 
 Prussia, after fruitless toil and wreathless triumphs, 
 mocked v»'ith the promise of a visionary constitution. 
 Look to France, chained and plundered, weeping ovel' 
 the tomb of her hopes and her heroes. Look to Eng^- 
 land, eaten by the cancer of an incurable debt,exhaust- 
 ed by poor-rates, supporting a civil list of near a mil- 
 lion and a half, annual amount, guarded by a standing 
 army of 149,000 men, misrepresented by a House of 
 Commons, ninety of whose members in places and 
 pensions derive .£200,000 in yearly emoluments from 
 the minister, mocked with a military peace, and girt 
 with the fortifications of a war-establishment! Shades 
 of heroic millions these are thy achievements ! Mon- 
 ster OP Legitimacy, this is thy consummation ! ! i 
 The past is out of power 3 it is high time to provide. 
 
AT LIVERPOOL. 87 
 
 against the future. Retrenchment and reform are 
 i\ow become not only expedient for our prosperity, 
 but necessary to our very existence. Can any man of 
 sense say that the present system should continue ? 
 What ! when war and peace have alternately thrown 
 every family in the empire into mourning and poverty, 
 shall the fattened tax-gatherer extort the starving ma- 
 nufacturer's last shilling', to swell the unmerited and 
 enormous sinecure of some wealthy pauper ? Shall a 
 borough-mongering faction convert what is misnamed 
 the National Representation into a mere instrument 
 for raising the supplies which are to gorge its own ve- 
 nality ? Shall the mock dignitaries of Whigism and 
 Toryism lead their hungry retainers to contest the 
 profits of an alternate ascendency over the prostrate 
 Interest of a too generous people ? These are ques- 
 tions which I blush to ask, which I shudder to think 
 must be either answered by the Parliament or the 
 people. Let our rulers prudently avert the interroga- 
 tion. We live in times when the slightest remon- 
 strance should command attention, when the minutest 
 speck that merely dots the edge of the political hori- 
 zon, may be the car of the approaching spirit of the 
 storm. Oh ! they are times whose omen no fancied 
 security can avert 5 times of the most awful and por- 
 tentous admonition. Establishments the most solid, 
 thrones the most ancient, coalitions the most power- 
 ful, have crumbled before our eyes ; and the creature 
 of a moment, robed, and crowned, and sceptred, raised 
 his fairy creation on their ruins ! The warning has 
 been given ; may it not have been given in vain ! 
 
 I feel, Sir, that the magnitude of the topics I have 
 touched, and the imminency of the perils which seem 
 to surround us, have led me far beyond the limits of a 
 convivial meeting. I see I have my apology in your 
 indulgence — but I cannot prevail on myself to trespass 
 farther. Accept, again, gentlemen, my most grateful 
 acknowledgments. Never, never, can I forget this 
 
88 SPEECH 
 
 day ; in private life it shall be the companion of my 
 solitude; and if, m the caprices of that fortune which 
 will at times degrade the high and dignify the humble. 
 I should hereafter be called to any station of responsi- 
 bility, I think, I may at least fearlessly promise the 
 friends who thus crowd around me, that no act of mine 
 shall ever raise a blush at the recollection of their ear- 
 ly encouragement. 1 hope, however, the benefit of 
 tliis day w.ll not be confined to the humble individual 
 you have so honoured; 1 hope it will cheer on the 
 young aspirants after virtuous fame in both our coun- 
 tries, by proving to them, that however, for the mo- 
 ment, envy, or ignorance, or corruption, may depre- 
 ciate them, there is a reward in store for the man who 
 thinks with integrity and acts with decision. Gentle- 
 men, you will add to the obligations you have already 
 conferred, by delegatmg to me the honour of propo- 
 sing to you the health of a man, whose virtues adorn, 
 and whose talents powerfully advocate our cause : I 
 mean the health of your worthy Chairman, Mr. Shep^ 
 
 HERD. 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS 
 
 m THE CASE OF GUTHRIE v, STERNE^ 
 
 DELIVERED IN 
 THE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS y DUBLLY. 
 
 My Lord and Gentlemen, 
 
 In this case I am of counsel for the plaintiff, who 
 has deputed me, with the kind concession of my much 
 more efficient colleagues, to detail to you the story of 
 his misfortunes. In the course of a long friendship 
 which has existed between us, originatmg in mutual 
 pursuits, and cemented by our mutual attachments, 
 never, until this instant, did I feel any thing but plear 
 sure in the claims which it created, or the duty which 
 it imposed. In selecting me, however, from this bright 
 array of learning and of eloquence, T cannot help being 
 pained at the kindness of a partiality which forgets its 
 interest in the exercise of its affection, and confides 
 the task of practised wisdom to the uncertain guidance 
 of youth and inexperience. He has thought, perhaps, 
 that truth needed no set phrase of speech ; that mis- 
 fortune should not veil the furrows which its tears had 
 burned ; or hide, under the decorations of an artful 
 drapery, the heart-rent heavings with which its bosom 
 throbbed. He has surely thought that by contrasting 
 
go SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 mine with the powerful talents selected by his an- 
 tagonist, he was giving you a proof that the appeal he 
 made was to your reason, not to your feelings — to the 
 integrity of your hearts, not the exasperation of your 
 passions. Happily, however, for him, happily for you, 
 happily for the country, happily for the profession, on 
 subjects such as this, the experience of the oldest 
 amongst us is but sleiider; deeds such as this are not 
 indigenous to an Irish soil, or naturahzed beneath an 
 Irish climate. We hear of them, indeed, as we do of 
 the earthquakes that convulse, or the pestilence that 
 infects, less favoured regions ; but the record of the 
 calamity is only read with the generous scepticism of 
 hmocence, or an involuntary thanksgiving to the 
 Providence that has preserved us. No matter how 
 we may have graduated in tlic scale of nations ; no 
 matter with what wreath we may have been adorned, 
 or what blessings we may have been denied ; no mat- 
 ter what may have been our feuds, our foHies, or our 
 misfortmies ; it has at least been universally conceded 
 that our hearths were the home of the domestic vir- 
 tues, and that love, honour, and conjugal fidelity, 
 were the dear and indisputable deities of our house- 
 hold ! around the hre-side of the Irish hovel, hospi- 
 tality ciixumscribed its sacred circle ; and a provisiim 
 io punish, created a suspicion of the possibility of its 
 violation. But of all the ties that bound — of all the 
 bounties that blessed her — Ireland most obeyed, most 
 jioved, most revered the nuptial contract. ;:rhe saw it 
 the gift of Heaven, the charm of earth, the joy of the 
 present, the promise of the future, the innocoice oi 
 enjoyment, the chastity of passion, the sacrament of 
 love ; the slender curtain that shades the sanctuary of 
 her marriage-bed, has in its purity the splendour of 
 the mountain snow, and ior its ])rotection the lextino 
 of the mountain adamant, (rentleinen, tlr.it national 
 sanctuary has been invaded : that venerable divinity 
 has been violated ; and its tenderost pledges torn lioui 
 
GUTHRIE V, STERNE. 91 
 
 dieir shrine, by the polluted rapine of a kindless, 
 heartless, prayerless, remorseless adulterer ! To you 
 — religion denied, morals insulted, law despised, pub- 
 lic order foully violated, and individual happiness 
 wantonly wounded, make their melancholy appeal. 
 You will hear the facts with as much patience as in- 
 dignation will allow — I will myself, ask of you to ad- 
 judge them with as much mercy as justice will admit. 
 The Plaintiff in this case is John Guthrie ; by 
 birth, by education, by profession, by better than all^ 
 by practice and by principles, a gentleman. Believe 
 me, it is not from the common-place of advocacy, or 
 from the blind partiality of friendship, that I say of 
 him, that whether considering the virtues that adorn 
 life, or the blandishments that endear it, he has few 
 superiors. Surely, if a spirit that disdains dishonour, 
 if a heart that knew not guile, if a life above reproach, 
 and a character beyond suspicion, could have been a 
 security against misfortunes, his lot must have been 
 happiness. I speak in the presence of that profession 
 to which he was an ornament, and with whose mem- 
 bers his manhood lias been familiar ; and I say of him, 
 with a confidence that defies refutation, that, whether 
 we consider him in his private or his pubhc station, as 
 a man or as a lawyer, there never breathed that being 
 less capable of exciting enmity towards himself, or of 
 offering, even by implication, an offence to others. If 
 he had a fault, it was, that, above crime, he was above 
 suspicion ; and to that noblest error of a noble nature 
 he has fallen a victim. Having spent his youth in 
 the cultivation of a mind which must have one day 
 led him to eminence, he became a member of the 
 profession by which I am surrounded. Possessing, 
 as he did, a moderate independence, and looking for- 
 ward to the most flattering prospects, it was natural 
 for him to select amongst the other sex, some friend 
 who should adorn his fortunes, and deceive his toils; 
 He found such a friend, or thought he found her, in 
 
y2 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 the person of Miss Warren, the only daughter of aii 
 eminent solicitor. Young, beautiful, and accomplish- 
 ed, she was " adorned whh all that earth or heaveii 
 could bestow to make her amiable." Virtue never 
 found a fairer temple; beauty never veiled a pin-er 
 sanctuary ; the graces of her mind retained the admi- 
 ration which her beauty had attracted, and the eye, 
 which her charms fired, became subdued and chasten- 
 ed in the modesty of their association. She was m 
 the dawn of life, with all its fragrance round her, and 
 yet so pure, that even the blush which sought to hide 
 her histre, but disclosed the vestal deity' that burned 
 beneath it. No wonder an adoring husband antici- 
 jpated all the joys this world could give him ; no won- 
 der that the parental eye, which beamed upon their 
 union, saw, in the perspective, an old age of happi- 
 ness, and a posterity of honour. Methinks I see them 
 at the sacred altar, joining those hands which Heaven 
 commanded none should separate, repaid for many a 
 |)ang of anxious nurture l)y the sweet smile of filial 
 piety ; and in the holy rapture of the rite, worship- 
 ping the power that blessed their children, and gave 
 them hope their names should live hereafter. It was 
 virtue's vision ! None but fiends could envy it. Year 
 after year confirmed the anticipation; four lovely 
 children blessed their union. Nor was their love the 
 summer passion of prosperity ; misfortune proved, 
 afflictions chastened it ; before the mandate of that 
 mysterious Power, which will at times despoil the 
 paths of innocence, to decorate the chariot of triumph- 
 ant villany, my client had to bow in silent resignation. 
 He owed his adversity to the benevolence of his spirit; 
 he " went security for friends ;' ' those friends deceived 
 him, and he was obliged to seek in other lands, that 
 safe asylum which his own denied him. He was glad 
 to accept an offer of professional business in Scotland 
 during his temporary embarrassment. With a conju- 
 gal devotion, Mrs. Gutlirie accompanied him j and ift 
 
auTHRiL r. sterm:. 93 
 
 het smile the soil of a stranger was a home, the sor- 
 rows of adversity were dear to him. During their 
 residence in Scotland, a period of about a year, you 
 will find they lived as they had done in Ireland, and 
 as they continued to do until this calamitous occur- 
 rence, in a state of uninterrupted happiness. You 
 shall hear, most satisfactorily, that their domestic life 
 was unsullied and undisturbed. Happy at home, 
 happy in a husband's love, happy in her parents' 
 fondness, happy in the children she had nursed, Mrs. 
 Guthrie carried into every circle — and there was no 
 circle in which her society was not courted — that 
 cheerfulness which never was a companion of guilt, 
 or a stranger to innocence. My client saw her the 
 pride of his family, the favourite of his friends — at 
 once the organ and ornament of his happiness. His 
 ambition awoke, his industry redoubled; and that 
 fortune, which though for a season it may frown, never 
 totally abandons probity and virtue, had began to 
 smile on him. He was beginning to rise in the ranks 
 of his competitors, and rising with such a character, 
 that emulation itself rather rejoiced than envied. It 
 was at this crisis, in this, the noon of his happiness, 
 and day-spring of his fortune, that, to the ruin of both, 
 the Defendant became acquainted with his family. 
 Witli the serpent's wile, and the serpent's wickedness, 
 he stole into the Eden of domestic life, poisoning all 
 that was pure, polluting all that was lovely, defying 
 God, destroying man ; a demon in disguise of virtue, 
 a herald of hell in the paradise of innocence. His 
 name, Gentlemen, is William Peter Baker Dun- 
 STANviLLE S TERNE ; oue would think he had epithets 
 enough, without adding to them the title of Adulterer. 
 Of his character I know but little, and I am sorry tliat 
 I know so much. If I am instructed rightly, he is 
 one of those vain and vapid coxcombs, whose vices 
 tinge the frivohty of their follies with something of a 
 more odious character than ridicule-^with just head 
 H2 
 
4 
 
 94 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 enough to contrive crime, but not heart enough ti> 
 feel for its consequences 5 one ol those fashionable in- 
 sects, that folly has painted, and Ibrtune plumed, for 
 the annoyance of our atmosphere j dangerous alike 
 in their torpidity and their animation; infesting 
 where they fly, and poisoning where they repose. It 
 was through the introduction of Mr. Fallon, the son 
 of a most respectable lady, then resident in Temple- 
 street, and a near relative of Mr. Guthrie, that the de- 
 fendant and this unfortunate woman first became ac- 
 quainted : to such an introc],uction the shadow of a 
 suspicion could not possibly attach. Occupied him- 
 self in his professional pursuits, my client had little 
 leisure for the amusement of society ; however, to the 
 protection of Mrs. Falion, her son, and daughters, 
 moving in the first circles, unstained by any possible 
 imputation, he without hesitation intrusted all that was 
 dear to him. No suspicion could be awakened as to 
 "any man to whom such a female as Mrs. Fallon per- 
 mitted an intimacy with her daughters ; while at her 
 house then, and at the parties which it originated, the 
 defendant and Mrs. Guthrie had frequent opportuni- 
 ties of meeting. Who could have suspected, that, 
 under the very roof of vhtue, in the presence of a 
 venerable and respected matron, and of that innocent 
 family, whom she had reared up in the sunshine of 
 her example, the most abandoned profligate could 
 have plotted his iniquities! Who would not rather 
 suppose, that, in the rebuke of such a presence, guilt 
 would have torn away the garland from its brow, and 
 blushed itself into virtue. But the depravity of this 
 man was of no common dye ; the asylum of innocence 
 was selected only as the sanctuary of his crimes ; and 
 the pure and the spotless chosen as his associates, 
 becaiise they would be more unsuspected subsidiaries 
 t) his wickedness. Nor were his manner and his lan- 
 guage less suiteil than his society to the concealment 
 of his objects. If you believed himself, the sight of 
 
GUTHRIE V, STERNE. 90 
 
 a'uflering affected his nerves; the bare mention of im- 
 morahty smote upon his conscience ; an intercourse 
 with the continental courts had refined his mind into 
 a painful sensibility to tlie barbarisms of Ireland ! 
 and yet an internal tenderness towards his native land 
 so irresistibly impelled him to improve it by his resi- 
 dence, that he was a hapless victim to the excess of 
 his feelings ! — the exquisiteness of his polish ! — and 
 the excellence of his patriotism ! His English estates, 
 he said, amounted to about .£10,000 a year, and he 
 retained in Ireland only a trifling £3000 more, as a 
 kind of trust for the necessities of its mhabitants ! — 
 In short, according to his own description, he was in 
 religion a saint, and in morals a stoic — a sort of wan- 
 dering philanthropist ! making, like the Sterne, who, 
 he confessed, had the honour oi' his name and his con- 
 nexion, a Sentimental Journeij in search of objects 
 over whom his heart miglit weep, and his sensibility 
 expand itself ! 
 
 How happy it is, that, of the philosophic profligate 
 only retaining the vices and the name, his rashness 
 has led to the arrest of crimes, wliich he had all his 
 turpitude to commit, without any of his talents to em- 
 bellish. 
 
 It was by arts such as I have alluded to — by pre- 
 tending the most strict morality, the most sensitive 
 honour, the most high and undeviating principles of 
 virtue, — that the defendant banished every suspicion 
 of his designs. As far as appearances went, he was 
 exactly what lie described himself. His pretensions 
 to morals he supported by the most reserved and re- 
 spectful behaviour: his hand was lavish in the distri- 
 bution of his charities ; and a splendid equipage, a 
 numerous retinue, a system of the most profuse and 
 prodigal expenditure, left no doubt as to the reality 
 of his fortune. Thus circumstanced, he found an easy 
 admittance to the house of Mrs. Fallon, and there he 
 had many opportunities of seeing Mrs. Guthrie j for, 
 
Uii ^FKECll IN THE CASE OF 
 
 between his family and that of so respectable u rela-' 
 tive as Mrs. Fallon, my client had much anxiety te 
 increase the connexion. They visited together some 
 of the public amusements ; they partook of some ol 
 the fetes in the neighbourhood of the metropolis ; but 
 upon every occasion, Mrs. Guthrie was accompanied 
 by her own mother, and by the respectable females of 
 Mrs. Fallon's family. I say, upon every occasion : 
 and I challenge them to produce one single instance 
 of those innocent excursions, upon which the slanders 
 of an interested calumriy have been let loose, in which 
 this unfortunate lady was not matronized by her 
 female relatives, and those some of the most spotless 
 characters in society. Between IMr. Guthrie and the 
 deiiendant, the acquaintance was but slight. Upon 
 one occasion alone they dined together ; it was at the 
 house of the plaintiff's father-in-law; and, that you 
 may have some illustration of the defendant's charac- 
 ter, I shall briefly instance his conduct at this dinner. 
 On being introduced to Mr. Warren, he apologized 
 for any deiiciency of etiquette in his visits, declaring 
 that he had been seriously occupied in arranging the 
 affairs of his lamented father, who, though tenant for 
 life, had contracted debts to an enormous amount. 
 He had already paid upwards of <£! 0.000, which 
 honour, and not law, compelled him to discharge ; as, 
 sweet soul ! he could not bear that any one should suf- 
 fer unjustly by his family ! His subsequent conduct 
 \vas quite consistent with this hypocritical preamble : 
 at dinner, he sat at a distance from Mrs. Guthrie; ex- 
 patiated to her husband upon matters of morahty ; 
 entering into a high-flown })anegyric on the virtues of 
 domestic life, and tlie comforts of connubial happiness. 
 In short, had there been any idea of jealousy, his 
 manner would have banished it ; and the mind must 
 have been worse than sceptical, which would refuse 
 its credence to his surface morality. Gracious God ! 
 when the heart once admits guilt as its associate, how 
 
GUTHRIE V, STERNE. 9? 
 
 every natural emotion flies before it ! Surely, surely, 
 here was a scene to reclaim, if it were possible, this 
 remorseless defendant, — admitted to her father's table 
 nnder the shield of hospitality, he saw a yoimg and 
 iovely female surrounded by her parents, her husband, 
 and her children ; the prop of those parents' age ; the 
 idol of that husband's love ; the anchor of those chil- 
 dren's helplessness; the sacred orb of their domestic 
 circle; giving their smile its light, and their bhss its 
 being; robbed of whose beams the little lucid world of 
 their home must become chill, uncheered, and colour- 
 less for ever. He saw them happy, he saw them uni- 
 ted ; blessed with peace, and purity, and profusion ; 
 throbbing with sympathy and throned in love ; depict- 
 ing the innocence of infancy, and the joys of manhood 
 before the venerable eye of age, as if to soften the 
 farewell of one world by the pure and pictured antici- 
 pation of a better. Yet, even there, hid in the very 
 sun-beam of that happiness, the demon of its destined 
 desolation lurked. Just Heaven ! of what materiak 
 was that heart composed, which could meditate coolly 
 on the murder of such enjoyments; which innocence 
 could not soften, nor peace propitiate, nor hospitality 
 appease-; but which, in the very beam and bosom of 
 its benefaction, warmed and excited itself into a more 
 vigorous venom ? Was there no sympathy in the scene ? 
 Was there no remorse at the crime ? Was there no 
 horror at its consequences ? 
 
 " Were honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd ! 
 Was there no pity, no relenting ruth. 
 To show their parents fondling o'er their child, 
 Then paiat the ruin'd pair, and their distraction wild !" 
 
 Burns. 
 
 iVo ! no ! He was at that instant planning their destruc- 
 tion ; and, even within four short days, he deliberately 
 reduced those parents to childlessness, that husband to 
 widowhood, those smiUng infants to anticipate orphan- 
 
i^S SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 Hge, and that peaceful, hospitable, confiding family^ 
 to helpless, hopeless, irremediable ruin ! 
 
 Upon the first day of the ensuing July, Mr. Guthrie 
 was to dine with the Connaught bar, at the hotel of 
 Portobello. It is a custom, I am told, with the gentle- 
 men of that association to dine together previous to 
 the circuit ; of course my client could not have deco- 
 rously absented himself. Mrs. Guthrie appeared a 
 little feverish, and he requested that on his retiring, 
 she would compose herself to rest; she promised him 
 3he would ; and when he departed, somewhat abruptly^ 
 to put some letters in the post-office, she exclaimed, 
 '^ What ! John, are you going to leave me thus ?" He 
 returned, and she kissed him. They seldom parted, 
 even for any time, without that token of affection. I 
 am thus minute, gentlemen, that you may see, up to 
 the last moment, what little cause the husband had for 
 suspicion, and how impossible it was for him to foresee 
 a perfidy which nothing short of infatuation could have 
 produced. He proceeded to his companions with no 
 other regret than that necessity, for a moment, forced 
 him from a home, which the smile of affection had 
 never ceased to endear to him. After a day, however, 
 passed as such a day might have been supposed to 
 pass, in the (low of soul and the philosophy of plea- 
 sure,he returned home to share his happiness with her, 
 without whom no happiness ever had been perfect. 
 Alas ! he was never to behold her more ! Imagine, if 
 you can, the frenzy of his astonishment, in being in- 
 formed by Mrs. Porter, the daughter of the former 
 landlady, that about two hours before she had attend- 
 ed Mrs. Guthrie to a confectioner's shop ; that a car- 
 riage had drawn up at the corner of the street, into 
 •which a gentleman, whom she recognized to be a Mr. 
 Sterne, had handed her, and they instantly departed. 
 I must tell you, there is every reason to believe, that 
 this woman was the confidant of the conspiracy. 
 What a pity that the object of that guilty confidence 
 
GUTHRIE V, STERNi;. 99 
 
 bad not something of Immanity ; that, as a female, 
 she did not feel for the character of her sex ; that, as 
 a mother, she did not mourn over the sorrows of a help- 
 less family ! What pangs might she not have spared ! 
 My client could hear no more ; even at the dead of 
 night he rushed into the street, as if in its own dark 
 hour he could discover guilt's recesses. In vain did 
 he awake the peaceful family of the horror-struck Mrs. 
 Fallon ; in vain, with the parents of the miserable fu- 
 gitive, did he mingle the tears of an impotent distrac- 
 tion; in vain, a miserable maniac, did he traverse the 
 silent streets of the metropolis, affrighting virtue from 
 its slumber with the spectre of its own ruin. I will 
 not harrow you with its heart-rending recital. But 
 imagine you see him, when the day had dawned, re- 
 turning wretched to his deserted dwelling ; seeing in 
 every chamber a memorial of his loss, and hearing 
 every tongueless object eloquent of his wo. Imagine 
 you see him, in the reverie of his grief, trying to per- 
 suade himself it was all a vision, and awakened only 
 to the horrid truth by his helpless children asking him 
 for their mother ! — Gentlemen, this is not a picture of 
 the fancy ; it literally occurred : there is something 
 less of romance in the reflection, which his children 
 awakened in the mind^ of their afflicted father; he or- 
 dered that they should be immediately habited in 
 mourning. How rational sometimes are the ravings 
 of insanity ! For all the purposes of maternal life, 
 poor innocents ! they have no mother ! her tongue no 
 more can teach, her hand no more can tend them ; for 
 them there is not " speculation in her eyes ;" to them 
 her life is something worse than death ; as if the awful 
 grave had yawned her forth, she moves before them 
 shrouded all in sin, the guilty burden of its peaceless 
 sepulchre. Better, far better, tlieir little feet had fol- 
 lowed in her funeral, than the hour which taught her 
 t alue should rever^l her vice — mourning her loss, they 
 wight have blessed her memory^ and shame neet§ 
 
100 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 not have rolled its fires into the fountain of tlieh* ser? 
 row. 
 
 As soon as his reason became sufficiently collected, 
 Mr. Guthrie pursued the fugitives ; he traced them 
 successively to Kiidare, to Cariow, Waterford, Milford- 
 haven, on through Wales, and finally to Ilfracombe, 
 in Devonshire, where the clue was lost. I am glad 
 that, in this route and restlessness of their guilt, as the 
 crime they perpetrated was foreign to our soil, they 
 did not make that soil the scene of its habitation. I 
 will not follow them through this joyless journey, nor 
 brand by my record the unconscious scene of its pol- 
 lution. But philosophy never taught, the pulpit never 
 enforced, a more imperative morality than the itine- 
 rary of that accursed tour promulgates. Oh ! if there 
 be a maid or matron in this island, balancing between 
 the alternative of virtue and crime, trembling between 
 the hell of the seducer and the adulterer, and the hea- 
 ven of the parental and the nuptial home, let her 
 pause upon this one, out of the many horrors I could 
 depict, — and be converted. I will give you the rela- 
 tion in the very words of my brief; I cannot improve 
 upon the simijlicity of the recital : 
 
 "On the 7th of July they arrived at Milford ; the 
 captain of the packet dined with them, and was aston- 
 ished at the magnificence of her dress." (Poor 
 wretch ! she was decked and adorned for the sacrifice!) 
 ^- The next day they dined alone. Towards evening, 
 the housemaid, passing near their chamber, heard Mr. 
 Sterne scolding and apparently heating her ! In a 
 short time after, Mrs. Guthrie rushed out of »her cham- 
 ber into the drawing-room, and throwing herself in 
 agony upon the sopha, she exclaimed, ' Oh ! ivhat an 
 unhappii icretch I am ! — / left my home where I was 
 happy, too happy, seduced by a man ivho has deceived 
 me. — My poor husband ! my dear children ! Oh ! if 
 they rcould even let my little William live with me! — 
 it tvould be some consolation to my beoken heart V'^ 
 
GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 101 
 
 " Alas ! nor children more can she behold, 
 Nor friends, nor sacred home." 
 
 Well might she lament over her fallen fortunes! 
 well might she mourn over the memory of days when 
 the sun of heaven seemed to rise but for her happi- 
 ness ! well might she recall the home she had endear- 
 ed, the children she had nursed, the hapless husband, 
 of whose life she was the pulse ! But one short week 
 before, this earth could not reveal a lovelier vision : — 
 Virtue blessed, aftection followed, beauty beamed on 
 her; the light of every eye, the charm of every heart, 
 she moved along in cloudless chastity, cheered by 
 the song of love, and circled by the splendours she 
 created ! Behold her now, the loathsome refuse of an 
 adulterous bed ; festering in the very infection of her 
 crime ; the scoff and scorn of their unmanly, merciless^ 
 inhuman author ! But thus it ever is with the votaries 
 of guilt; the birth of their crime is the death of their 
 enjoyment ; and the wretch who flings his offering on 
 its altar, falls an immediate victim to the flame of his 
 devotion. I am glad it is so ; it is a wise, retributive 
 dispensation ; it bears the stamp of a preventive Pro- 
 vidence. I rejoice it is so, in the present instance, 
 first, because this premature infliction must ensure re- 
 pentance in the wretched sufferer ; and next, because, 
 as this adulterous fiend has rather acted on the sug- 
 gestions of his nature than his shape, by rebelling 
 against the finest impulse of man, he has made him- 
 self an outlaw from the sympathies of humanity. -Why 
 should he expect that charity from you, which he 
 w ould not spare even to the misfortunes he had inflict- 
 ed ? For the honour of the form in which he is disguis- 
 ed, I am willing to hope he was so blinded by his 
 vice, that he did not see the full extent of those mis- 
 fortunes. If he had feehngs capable of being touched, 
 it is not to the faded victim of her own weakness, 
 and of his wickedness, that I would direct them. 
 There is something in her crime which affrights 
 I 
 
102 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 charity from its commiseration. But, Gentlemen, 
 there is one, over whom pity may mourn, — for lie 
 is wretched, and mourn without a blush, — for he is 
 guiltless. How shall I depict to you the deserted 
 husband ? To every other object in this catalogue of 
 calamity there is some stain attached which checks 
 compassion. — But here — Oh ! if ever there was a man 
 amiable, it was that man. Oh ! if ever there was a 
 husband fond, it was that husband. His hope, his joy, 
 Jiis ambition was domestic; his toils were forgotten in 
 the affections of his home ; and amid every adverse 
 variety of fortune, hope pointed to his children, — and 
 he was comforted. By this vile act that hope is blast- 
 ed, that house is a desert, those children are parent- 
 iess ! In vain do they look to their surviving parent : 
 jiis heart is broken, his mind is in ruins; his very form 
 is fading from the earth. He had one consolation, 
 an aged mother, on whose life the remnant of his for- 
 t\ines hung, and on whose protection of his children 
 his remaining prospects rested, even that is over ; — 
 she could not survive his shame, she never raised her 
 )iead, she became hearsed in his misfortunes ; — he has 
 followed her funeral. If this be not the cl'max of hu- 
 fltian misery, tell me in what does human misery con- 
 sist? Wife, parent, fortune, prospects, happiness, — 
 all gone at once, — and gone for ever ! For my part, 
 when I contemplate this, I do not wonder at the im- 
 pression it has produced on him ; I do not wonder zX 
 the faded form, the dejected air, the emaciated coun- 
 tenance, and all the ruinous and mouldering trophies, 
 by which m.isery has marked its triumph over youth, 
 and health, and happiness! I know, that in the hordes 
 of what is called fashionable life, there is a sect of phi- 
 losophers, wonderfully patient of their fellow-crea- 
 tures' sufferings ; men too insensible to feel for any 
 ©ne, or too selfish to feci for others. I trust there is 
 not one amongst you who can even hear of such ca- 
 lamities without affliction; or, if there be, I pray tha^ 
 
GUTHRIE V» STERNE. 103 
 
 he may never know their import by experience ; that 
 having in the wilderness of this world, but one dear 
 and darhng object, without whose participation bliss 
 would be joyless, and in whose sympathies sorrow has 
 found a charm ; whose smile has cheered his toil, 
 whose love has pillowed his misfortunes, whose angel- 
 spirit, guiding him through danger, and darkness,and 
 despair, arnid the world's frown and the friend's per- 
 fidy, was more than friend, and world, and all to him! 
 God forbid, that by a villain's wile, or a villain's wick- 
 edness, he should be taught how to appreciate the wo 
 of others in the dismal solitude of his own. Oh, no ! 
 I feel that I address myself to human beings, who, 
 knowing the value of what the world is worth, are ca- 
 pable of appreciating all that makes it dear to us. 
 
 Observe, however, — lest this crime should want ag- 
 gravation — observe, I beseech you, the period of its 
 accomplishment. My client was not so young as that 
 the elasticity of his spirit could rebound and bear him 
 above the pressure of the misfortune, nor was he with- 
 ered by age into a comparative insensibility ; but just 
 at that temperate interval of manhood, when passion 
 had ceased to play, and reason begins to operate ; 
 when love, gratified, left him nothing to desire ; and 
 fidelity, long tried, left him nothing to apprehend : 
 he was just too, at that period of his professional ca- 
 reer, when, his patient industry having conquered the 
 ascent, he was able to look around him from the height 
 on which he rested. For this, welcome had been the 
 day of tumult, and the pale midnight lamp succeeding ; 
 welcome had been the drudgery of form ; welcome 
 the analysis of crime ; welcome the sneer of envy, 
 and the scorn of dulness, and all the spurns which 
 *'■' patient merit of the unworthy takes." For this he 
 Jiad encountered, perhaps the generous rivalry of gen- 
 ius, perhaps the biting blasts of poverty, perhaps the 
 efforts of that deadly slander, which,coiling round the 
 cradle of his young ambition, might have sought to 
 crush him in its envenomed foldings. 
 
104 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 " .\h! who can tell how hard it is to climb 
 Tbe steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar ': 
 Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime 
 Ilath felt the influence of malignant star, 
 And waged with fortune an eternal war?" 
 
 Can such an injury as this admit of justification? I 
 think the learned counsel will concede it cannot. But 
 it may be palliated. Let us see how. Perhaps the 
 defendant was young and thoughtless ; perhaps un- 
 merited prosperity raised him above the pressure of 
 misfortune,and the wild pulses of impetuous passion im*- 
 pelled him to a purpose at which his experience would 
 have shuddered. Quite the contrary. The noon of 
 manhood has almost passed over him ; and a youth, 
 spent in the recesses of a debtor's prison made hira 
 familiar with every form of human misery : he saw 
 what misfortune was ; — it did not teach him pity : he 
 saw the effects of guilt; — he spurned the admonition. 
 Perhaps in the solitude of a single life, he had never 
 known the social blessedness of marriage ; — he has a 
 wife and children ; or, if she be not his wife, she is the 
 victim of his crime, and adds another to the calendar 
 of his seduction. Certain it is, he has little children, 
 who think themselves legitimate ; will his advocates 
 defend him, by proclaiming their bastardy ? Certain 
 it is, there is a wretched female, his own cousin too, 
 who thinks herself his wife ; will they protect him, by 
 proclaiming he has only deceived her into being his 
 prostitute ? Perhaps his crime, as in the celebrated 
 case of Howard, immortalized by Lord Erskine, may 
 have found its origin in parental cruelty ; it might 
 perhaps have been that in their spring of life, when 
 fancy waved her fairy wand around them, till all above 
 was sun-shine, and all beneath was flowers ; when to 
 their clear and charmed vision this ample world was 
 but a weedless garden, where every tint spoke Nature's 
 liveliness, and every sound breathed Heaven's melo- 
 dy, and every breeze was but embodied fragrance j it 
 
OUTHRIE V, STERNE. IQfO 
 
 miglit have been that, in this cloudless holiday, Love 
 wove his roseate bondage round them, till their young 
 hearts so grew together, a separate existence ceased, 
 and life itself became a sweet identity ; it might have 
 been that, envious of this paradise, some worse thaa 
 demon tore them from each other to pine for years ii^ 
 absence, and at length to perish in a palliated impiety. 
 Oh ! Gentlemen, in such a case, Justice herself, with 
 her uplifted sword, would call on Mercy to preserve 
 the victim. There was no such pallieition : — the pe- 
 riod of their acquaintance was little more than sufficient 
 for the maturity of their crime ; and they dare not libel 
 Love by shielding under its soft and sacred name the 
 loathsome revels of an adulterous depravity. It might 
 have been, the husband's cruelty left a too easy inroad 
 for seduction. Will they dare to assert it ? Ah ! too 
 well they know he would not let "the winds of heaven 
 visit her face too roughly." Monstrous as it is, I have 
 heard, indeed, that they mean to rest upon an opposite 
 paUiation ; I have heard it rumoured, that they mean 
 to rest the wife's infidelity upon the husband's fondness, 
 I know that guilt, in its conception mean, and in itiS 
 commission tremulous, is, in its exposure, desperate 
 and audacious. I know that, in the fugitive panic of 
 its retreat it will stop to fling its Parthian poisons upon 
 the justice that pursues it. But I do hope, bad and 
 abandoned and hopeless as their cause is, — I do hope, 
 for the name of human nature, that I have been de- 
 ceived in the rumours of this unnatural defence. — ■ 
 Merciful God ! is it in the presence of this venerable 
 Court, is it in the hearing of this virtuous jury, is it in 
 the zenith of an enlightened age, that I am to be told 
 because female tenderness was not watched with worse 
 than Spanish vigilance, and harassed with worse thaii 
 eastern severity; because the marriage-contract is not 
 converted into the curse of incarceration ; because wo- 
 man is allowed the dignity of a human soul, and mau 
 does not degrade himself into a human monster j N? 
 12 
 
lOS SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 cause the vow of endearment is not made the vehicle 
 of deception, and the altar's pledge is not become the 
 passport of a barbarous perjury ; and that too in a land 
 of courage and chivalry, where the female form ha^ 
 been held as a patent direct from the Divinity, bearing 
 in its chaste and charmed helplessness the assurance of 
 its strength, and the amulet of its protection : am I to 
 be told, that the demon adulterer is therefore not only 
 to perpetrate his crimes, but to vindicate himself, 
 through the very virtues he has violated ? I cannot 
 believe it; I dismiss the supposition : it is most " mon- 
 strous, foul and unnatural." Suppose that the plain- 
 tiff pursued a ditTerent principle ; suppose that his con- 
 duct had been the reverse of what it was ; suppose, 
 that in place of being kind, he had been cruel to this 
 deluded female 5 that he had been her tyrant, not her 
 protector; her jailor, not her husband: what then 
 might have been the defence of the adulterer ? Might 
 he not then say, and say with speciousness, *' True, I 
 seduced her into crime, but it was to save her from 
 cruelty ; true, she is m-j adulteress^ because he was her 
 despot.^' Happily, Gentlemen, he can say no such 
 thing. I have heard it said, too, during the ten months 
 of calumny, for which, by every species of legal delay, 
 they have procrastinated this trial, that, next to the 
 impeachment of the husband's tenderness, they mean 
 to rely on what they libel as the levity of their unhap- 
 py victim ! I know not by what right any man, but 
 above all, a married man, presumes to scrutinize into 
 the conduct of a married female. I know not, Gen- 
 tlemen, how you would feel, under the consciousnes-; 
 that every coxcomb was at liberty to estimate the 
 warmth, or the coolness of your wives, by the baro- 
 meter of his vanity, that he might ascertain precisely 
 the prudence of his invasion on their virtue. But I 
 do know, that such a defence, coming from such a 
 quarter, vvould not at all surprise me. Poor — unfor- 
 tunate—fallen female ! How can she expect merd^^ 
 
GUTHRIE V, STERNE. tOT 
 
 if OKI her destroyer ? How can she expect that he will 
 revere the character he was careless of preserving ? 
 How can she suppose that, after having made her 
 peace the pander of his appetite, he will not make her 
 reputation the victim of his avarice ? Such a defence 
 is quite to be expected : knowing him, it will not sur- 
 prise me 5 if I know you, it will not avail him. 
 
 Having now shown you, that a crime almost unpre- 
 cedented in this country, is clothed in every aggrava- 
 tion, and robbed of every palliative, it is natural you 
 should enquire, what was the motive for its commis- 
 sion ? What do you think it was ? Providentially — 
 miraculously, I should have said, for you never could 
 have divined — the Defendant has himself disclosed it- 
 What do you think it was. Gentlemen ? Ambition f 
 But a few days before this crnninality, in answer to a 
 friend, who rebuked him for the almost princely ex- 
 penditure of his habits, "Oh," says he, "never mind j 
 Sterne must do something by which Sterne may be 
 hnoion /" I had heard, indeed, that ambition was a 
 vice, but then a vice so equivocal, it verged on vir- 
 tue ; that it was the aspiration of a spirit, sometimes 
 perhaps appalling, always magnificent; that though 
 its grasp might be fate, and its flight might be famine^ 
 Still it reposed on earth's pinnacle, and played in hea-> 
 ven's lightnings ; that though it might fall in ruins, it 
 arose in fire, and was with all so splendid, that eves 
 the horrors of that fall became immerged and mitiga- 
 ted in the beauties of that aberration! But here is ae 
 ambition ! — base and barbarous and illegitimate; with 
 all the grossness of the vice, with none of the grand- 
 eur of the virtue ; a mean, muffled, dastard incendia- 
 ry, who, in the silence of sleep, and in tlie shades of 
 midnight, steals his Ephesian torch into the fane,^ 
 which it was virtue to adore, and worse than sacrilege 
 to have violated ! 
 
 Gentlemen, my part is done ; yours is about to 
 commence^ You have heard this crime — its origin. 
 
108 SPEECH m THE CASE OP 
 
 its progress, its aggravation, its novelty among us. G0 
 and teli your children and your country, whether of 
 not it is to be made a precedent. Oh, how awful is 
 your responsibility ! J do not doubt that you will dis- 
 charge yourselves of it as becomes your characters* 
 I am sure, indeed, that you will mourn with me over 
 the almost solitary defect in our otherwise matchless 
 system of jurisprudence, which leaves the perpetra- 
 tors of sucli an injury as tliis, subject to no amerce- 
 ment but that of money. 1 think you will lament the 
 failure of the great Ctcero of our age, to bring such 
 an offence within the cognizance of a criminal juris- 
 diction : it was a subject suited to his legislative mind, 
 worthy of his feeling heart, worthy of his immortal 
 eloquence. I cannot, my Lord, even remotely al- 
 lude to Lord -Ers/rme, without gratifying myself by 
 saying of him, that, by the rare \mion ol'all that was 
 learned in law with all that was lucid in eloquence; 
 by the singular combination of all that was pure in 
 snorals with all that was profound in wisdom; he 
 he has stamped upon every action of his life the blend- 
 ed authority of a great mind, and an unquestionable 
 conviction. I think. Gentlemen, you will regret the 
 failure of such a man in such an object. The merci- 
 less murderer may have maiiliness to plead ; the high- 
 way robber may have want to palliate; yet they both 
 are objects of criminal infliction : but the murderer of 
 connubial bliss, who commits his crime in secrecy ; — 
 the robber of domestic joys, whose very wealth, as in 
 this case, may be liis instrument ; — he is suffered to 
 calculate on the infernal fame which a superfluous 
 and unfelt expenditure may purchase. The law, how- 
 ever, is so : and we must only adopt the remedy it af- 
 fords us. In our adjudication of tliat remedy, I l3o 
 not ask too much, when I ask the full extent of vour 
 capability ; how poor, even so, is the wretched remu- 
 neration for an injury which nothing can repair, — for 
 a loss w hich nothing can alleviate ? Do you think that 
 
GUTHRIE V, STERNE. 1Q9 
 
 a mine could recompense my client for the forfeiture 
 i3f her who was clearer than life to him ? 
 
 " Oh, had she been but true, 
 Though heaven had made him such another woridi 
 Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, 
 He'd not exchange her for it !" 
 
 I put it to any of you, what would you take to stand 
 in his situation ? What would you take to have your 
 prospects blasted, your profession despoiled, your 
 peace ruined, your bed profaned, your parents heart- 
 broken, your children parentless ? Believe me. Gen- 
 tlemen, if it were not for those children, he would not 
 «ome here to-day to seek such remuneration ; if it were 
 not that, by your verdict, you may prevent those little 
 innocent defrauded wretches from wandering beggars, 
 as well as orphans, on the face of the earth. Oh, I 
 know I need not ask this verdict from your mercy ; I 
 Beed not extort it from your compassion ; I will receive 
 it from your justice. I do conjure you, not as fathers, 
 but as husbands ; — not as husbands, but as citizens ; — 
 not as citizens, but as men ; — not as men, but as Chris- 
 tians ; — by all your obligations, public, private, moral, 
 and religious ; by the hearth profaned ; by the home 
 desolated; by the canons of the living God foully spurn- 
 ed — save, oh ! save your fire-sides from the contagion, 
 your country from the crime, and perhaps thousands, 
 yet unborn, from the shame, and sin, and sorrow of 
 this example! 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OP 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS 
 
 -^ THE CASE OF O'MULLAN v, M^KORKILL; 
 
 DELIVERED IN THE ^^ 
 
 eOUNTY COURT-HOUSE, GALWAY. 
 
 ^Jy Lords and Gentlemen^ 
 
 I AM instructed, as counsel for the Plaintiff, to 
 state to you the circumstances in which this action has 
 originated. It is a source to me, I will confess it, of 
 much personal embarrassment. Feebly, indeed, can 
 I attempt to convey to you, the feelings with which a 
 perusal of this brief has affected me ; painful to yoii 
 must be my inefficient transcript — painful to all who 
 have the common feelings of country or of kind, must 
 he this calamitous compendium of all that degrades 
 our individual nature, and of all that has, for many an 
 age of sorrow, perpetuated a curse upon our national 
 character. It is, perhaps, the misery of this profes- 
 sion, that evety hour our vision may be blasted by 
 some withering crime, and our hearts wrung with some 
 agonizing recital; there is no frightful form of vice, or 
 no disgusting phantom of infirmity, which guilt does 
 not array in spectral train before us. Horrible is tlie 
 assemblage ! humiliating the application ! but thank 
 Ood, even amid those veiT scenes of disgrace and of 
 
112 SPEECH IN THE CASE ep 
 
 debasement, occasions oft arise for the redemption ol 
 our dignity ; occasions, on which the virtues breathed 
 into us, by heavenly inspiration, walk abroad in the 
 divinity of their exertion ; before whose beam the 
 wintry robe falls from the form of virtue, and all the 
 midnight images of horror vanish into nothing. Joy- 
 fully and piously do I recognize such an occasion ; 
 gladly do I invoke you to the generous participation ; 
 yes, Gentlemen, though you must prepare to hear 
 much that degrades our nature, much that distracts 
 our country — -though all that oppression could devise 
 agamstthe poor — though all that persecution could in- 
 flict upon the feeble — though all that vice could wield 
 against the pious — though all that the venom of a ve- 
 nal turpitude could pour upon the patriot, must with 
 their alternate apparition alflict, affright, and humili- 
 ate you, still do I hope, that over the charnel-house 
 of crime — o\er this very sepulchre, where corruption 
 sits enthroned upon the merit it has murdered, that 
 voice is at length about to be heard, at which the mar- 
 tyred victim will arise to vindicate the ways of Provi- 
 dence, and prove that even in its worst adversity there 
 is a might and immortality in virtue. 
 
 The Plaintiff, Gentlemen, you have heard, is the 
 Rev. Cornelius O'MuUan ; he is a clergyman of the 
 church of Rome, and became invested with that vene- 
 rable appellation, so far back as September, 1 804. It 
 is a title which you know, in this country, no rank en- 
 nobles, no treasure enriches, no establishment sup- 
 ports j its possessor stands undisguised by any rag of 
 this world's decoration, resting all temporal, all eter- 
 nal liope upon his toil, his talents, his attainments,and 
 his piety — ndoubtless, after all, the highest honours, as 
 well as the most imperishable treasures of the man of 
 God. Year after year passed over my client, and 
 each anniversary only gave him an additional title to 
 these qualifications. His precept was but the hand- 
 maid to his practice j the sceptic heard him, and was 
 
o'mullan V. m'korkill. 113 
 
 convinced ; the ignorant attended him, and were 
 taught ; he smoothed the death-bed of too heedless 
 wealth; he rocked the cradle of the infant charity ; oh, 
 no wonder he walked in the sunshine of the public 
 eye, no wonder he toiled through the pressure of the 
 public benediction. This is not an idle declamation ; 
 such was the result his ministry produced, that within 
 five years from the date of its commencement, nearly 
 2000/. of voluntary subscription enlarged the temple 
 where such precepts were taught, and such piety exem- 
 plified. Such was the situationof Mr.O'Mullan, when 
 a dissolution of parliament took place, and an unex- 
 pected contest for the representation of Derry, threw 
 that county into unusual commotion. One of the can- 
 didates was of the Ponsonby family — a family devoted 
 to the interests, and dear to the heart of Ireland ; he 
 naturally thought that his parliamentary conduct en- 
 titled him to the vote of every Catholic in the land 5 
 and so it did, not only of every Catholic, but of every 
 Christian who preferred the diffusion of the Gospel 
 to the ascendency of a sect, and loved the principles of 
 the constitution better than the pretensions of a party. 
 Perhaps you will think with me, that there is a sort of 
 posthumous interest thrown about that event, when I 
 tell you, that the candidate on that occasion was the 
 lamented Hero over whose tomb the tears, not only of 
 Ireland, but of Europe, have been so lately shed; he 
 who, mid the blossom of the world's chivalry, died con- 
 quering a deathless name upon the field of Waterloo, 
 He applied to Mr. O'Mullan for his interest, and that 
 interest was cheerfully given, the concurrence of his 
 bishop having been previously obtained. Mr. Pon- 
 sonby succeeded ; and a dinner, to which all parties 
 were invited, and from which all party spirit was ex- 
 pected to absent itself,was given to commemorate one 
 common triumph — the purity and the privileges of 
 election. In other countries, such an expectation 
 might be natural ; the exercise of a noble constitu- 
 K 
 
114 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 tional privilege, the triumph of a great popular cause, 
 might not unaptly expand itself in the intercourse of 
 the board, and unite all hearts in the natural bond of 
 festive commemoration. But, alas. Gentlemen, in this 
 unhappy land, such has been the result, whether of 
 our faults, our follies, or our misfortunes, that a de- 
 testable disunion converts the very balm of the bowl 
 into poison, commissioning its vile and harpy offspring, 
 to turn even our festivity into famine. My client was 
 at this dinner ; it was not to be endured that a Cathohc 
 should pollute with his presence the civic festivities of 
 the loyal Londonderry ! such an intrusion, even the 
 acknowledged sanctity of his character could not ex- 
 cuse ; it became necessary to insult him. There is a 
 toast, which, perhaps, few in this united country are 
 in the habit of hearing, but it is the invariable watch- 
 word of the Orange orgies ; it is briefly entitled " The 
 glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great 
 and good KingWilham." I have no doubt the sim- 
 plicity of your understandings is puzzled how to dis- 
 cover any offence in the commemoration of the Revo- 
 lution Hero. The loyalists of Derry are more wise 
 in their generation. There, when some Bacchanalian 
 bigots wish to avert the intrusive visitations of their 
 own memory, they commence by violating the memo- 
 ry of King William.* Those who happen to have 
 shoes or silver in their fraternity — no very usual oc- 
 currence — thank His Majesty that the shoes are not 
 wooden, and that the silver is not brass, a commodity, 
 
 *This loyal toast handed down by Orange tradition is literally 
 as follows, — we give it for the edification of the sister island. 
 
 "The glorions, pious, and immortal memory of the great and 
 good King William, who saved us from Pope and Popery, Jamea 
 and slavery, brass money and wooden shoes ; here is bad luck 
 to the Pope, and a hempen rope to all Papists ." 
 
 It is drank kneeling, if they cannot stand, nine times nine, 
 amid various mysteries which none bat the eitct can compre- 
 hend. 
 
o'mullan V. m'korkill. 115 
 
 Ly tlie bye, of wliich any legacy would have been 
 quite superfluous. The Pope comes in for a pious 
 benediction ; and the toast concludes with a patriotic 
 wish, for all his persuasion, by the consummation of 
 which there can be no doubt, the hempen manufac- 
 tures of this country would experience a very con- 
 siderable consumption. Such, Gentlemen, is the en- 
 lightened, and liberal, and social sentiment of which 
 the first sentence, all that is usually given, forms the 
 suggestion. I must not omit that it is generally taken 
 standing, always providing it he in the power of the 
 companii. This toast was pointedly given to insult 
 Mr. O'Mullan. Naturally averse to any altercation, 
 his most obvious course was to quit the company, and 
 this he did immediately. He was, however, as imme- 
 diately recalled by an intimation, that the Catholic 
 qnestion, and might its claims be considered justly 
 and liberally, had been toasted as a peace-offering by- 
 Sir George Hill, the City Recorder. My client had 
 no gall in his disposition 5 he at once clasped to 
 his heart the friendly overture, and in such phrase as 
 his simplicity supplied, poured forth the gratitude of 
 that heart to the liberal Recorder. Poor O'MuUan 
 had the wisdom to imagine that the politician's com- 
 pliment was the man's conviction, and that a table 
 toast was the certain prelude to a parliamentary suf- 
 frage. Despising all experience, he applied the adage, 
 Cizlum nan animum mutant qui trans mare current, to 
 the Irish patriot. I need not paint to you the con- 
 sternation of Sir George, at so unusual and so unpar- 
 liamentary a construction. He indignantly disclaimed 
 the intention imputed to him, denied and deprecated 
 the unfashionable inference, and acting on the broad 
 scale of an impartial policy, gave to one party the 
 weight of his vote, and to the other, the (no doubt in 
 his opinion) equally valuable acquisition of his elo- 
 quence ; by the way, no unusual compromise amongst 
 modeirn politicians^ 
 
i 16 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 The proceedings of this dinner soon became public. 
 Sir George, you may be sure, was little in love with 
 his notoriety. However, Gentlemen, the sufferings of 
 the powerful are seldom without sympathy 5 if they 
 receive not the solace of the disinterested and the sin- 
 cere, they are at least sure to find a substitute in the 
 miserable professions of an interested hypocrisy. Who 
 could imagine, that Sir George, of all men, was to 
 drink from the spring of Catholic consolation ? yet so 
 it happened. Two men of that commuhion had the 
 hardihood and the servility, to frame an address to 
 him, reflecting upon the pastor, who was its pride and 
 its ornament. This address, with the most obnoxious 
 commentaries, was instantly published by the Derry 
 Journalist, who from that hour, down to the period of 
 his ruin, has never ceased to persecute my client, with 
 all that the most deliberate falsehood could invent, 
 and all that the most infuriate bigotry could perpetrate. 
 This journal, I may as well now describe to you ; it is 
 one of tlie numerous publications which the misfor- 
 tunes of this unhappy land have generated, and which 
 has grown into considerable affluence by the sad con- 
 tributions of the public calamity. There is not a pro- 
 vincial village in Ireland, which some such oflicial 
 fiend does not infest, fabricating a gazette of fraud and 
 falsehood, upon all who presume to advocate her inte- 
 rests, or uphold the ancient religion of her people; — 
 the worst foes of government, under pretence of giving 
 it assistance ; the deadliest enemies to the Irish name, 
 under the mockery of supporting its character ; the 
 most licentious, irreligious, illiterate banditti, that ever 
 polluted the fair fields of literature, under the spolia- 
 ted banner of the press. Bloated with the public spoil, 
 and blooded in tlie chase of character, no abilities can 
 arrest, no piety can awe ; no misfortune affect, no be- 
 nevolence conciliate them; the reputation of the living, 
 and the memoiy of the dead, are equally plundered in 
 their desolating progress ; even the awful sepidchre 
 
o'mOLLAN V* M^KORKILL. I 17 
 
 affords not an asylum to their selected victim. Human 
 HvENAs! they will rush into the sacred receptacle of 
 death, gorging their ravenous and brutal rapine, amid 
 the memorials of our last infirmity I Such is a too true 
 picture of what I hope unauthorizedly misnames itself 
 the ministerial press of Ireland. Amid that polluted 
 press, it is for you to say, whether The Lom/onderrif 
 Journal stands on an infamous elevation. When this 
 address was published in the name of the Catholics, 
 that calumniated body, as was naturally to be expect- 
 ed, became universally indignant. 
 
 You may remember, Gentlemen, amongst the many 
 expedients resorted to b}^ Ireland, for the recovery of 
 her rights, after she had knelt session after session at 
 the bar of the legislature, covered with the wounds of 
 glory, and praying redemption from the chains that 
 rewarded them ; — you may remember, I say, amongst 
 many vain expedients of supplication and remon- 
 strance, her Catholic population delegated a board to 
 consult on their affairs, and forward their petition. Of 
 that body, fashionable as the topic has now become, 
 far be it from me to speak with disrespect. It con- 
 tained much talent, much integrity ; and it exhibited 
 what must ever be to me an interesting spectacle, a 
 great body of my fellov/ men and fellow Christians, 
 claiming admission into that constitution which their 
 ancestors had achieved by their valour, and to which 
 they were entitled as their inheritance. This is no 
 time, this is no place for the discussion of that ques- 
 tion; but since it does force itself incidentally upon 
 me, I will sa}'. that as on the one hand I cannot fancy 
 a despotism more impious, or more inhuman, than the 
 pohtical abasement here, on account of that faith by 
 which men hope to win an happy eternity hereafter ; 
 so on the other, I cannot fancy a vision in its as- 
 pect MORE divine than THE ETERNAL CROSS, RED 
 WITH THE xMARTYR's BLOOD, AND RADIANT WITH THE 
 ^ILGPIxM's hope, reared by THE PATRIOT ANB THE 
 K 2 
 
118 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 CHRISTIAN HAND, HIGH IN THE VAN OP UNIVERSAL LIB- 
 ERTY. Of this board the two volunteer framers of the 
 address happened to be members. The body who 
 deputed them instantly assembled and declared their 
 delegation void. You would suppose, Gentlemen, that 
 after this decisive public brand of reprobation, those 
 officious meddlers would have avoided its recurrence, 
 by retiring from scenes lot which nature and education 
 had totally unfitted them. Far, however, from acting 
 under any sense of shame, those excluded outcasts 
 even summoned a meeting to appeal from the sen- 
 tence the public opinion had pronounced on them. 
 The meeting assembled, and alter almost the day's 
 deliberation on their conduct, the former sentence was 
 unanimously confirmed. The men did not deem it 
 prudent to attend themselves, but at a late hour, when 
 the business was concluded, when the resolutions had 
 passed, when the chair was vacated, when the multi- 
 tude was dispersing, they attempted with some Orange 
 followers to obtrude into the chapel, which in large 
 cities, such as Derry, is the usual place of meeting. 
 An angry spirit arose among the people. Mr. O'Mul- 
 lan, as was his duty, locked the doors to preserve the 
 house of God from profanation, and addressed the 
 crowd in such terms, as induced them to repair peace- 
 ably to their respective habitations. I need not paint 
 to you the bitter emotions with which these deserved- 
 ly disappointed men were agitated. All hell was at 
 work within them, and a conspiracy was hatched 
 against the peace of my client, the vilest, the foulest, 
 die most infernal that ever vice devised, or demons 
 executed.. Restrained from exciting a riot by his in- 
 terference, they actually swore a riot against him, 
 prosecuted him to conviction, worked on the decaying 
 intellect of his bishop to desert him, and amid the sa- 
 vage war-whoop of this slanderous Journal, all along 
 inflaming the public mind by libels the most atrocious,, 
 ftnally flung tliis poor, religiousj unoffending priest^ 
 
o'mullan v. m'korkill. il9 
 
 iBto a damp and desolate dungeon, where the very iron 
 that bound, had more of humanity than the despots 
 that surrounded him. I am told, they triumph much 
 in this conviction. I seek not to impugn the verdict 
 of that jury; I have no doubt they acted conscien- 
 tiously. It weighs not with me that every member of 
 my client's creed was carefully excluded from that 
 jury — tio doubt they acted conscientiously. It weighs 
 not with me that every man impannelled on the trial 
 of the priest was exclusively Protestant, and that, too^ 
 in a city, so prejudiced, that not long ago, by their 
 Corporation law, no Catholic dare breathe the air of 
 Heaven within its walls — no doubt they acted consci- 
 entiouslj. It weighs not with me, that not three days 
 previously, one of that jury was heard publicly to de- 
 clare, he wished he could persecute the Papist to his 
 death — no doubt they acted conscientiously. It weighs 
 not with me, that the public mind had been so inflam- 
 ed by the exasperation of this libeller, that an impar- 
 tial trial was utterly impossible. Let them enjoy their 
 triumph. But for myself, knowing him as I do, here 
 in the teeth of that conviction, I declare it, I would 
 rather be that man, so aspersed, so imprisoned, so per- 
 secuted, and have his conscientiousness, thmi stand the 
 highest of the courtliest rabble that ever crouched be- 
 fore the foot of power, or fed upon the people — plun- 
 dered alms of despotism. Oh, of short duration is 
 such demoniac triumph. Oh, blind and groundless 
 is the hope of vice, imagining its victory can be more 
 than for the moment. This very day I hope will prove 
 that if virtue suffers, it is but for a season ; and tha^ 
 sooner or later, their patience tried, and their purity 
 testified, prosperity will crown the interests of probity 
 and worth. 
 
 Perhaps you imagine. Gentlemen, that his person 
 imprisoned, his profession gone, his prospects rui:ied^ 
 and what he held dearer than all, his chea'acter defam- 
 ed; the malice of his enemies might have rested 
 
t2\3 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 from persecution. " Thus bad begins, but worse re- 
 mains behind.'' Attend, I beseech you, to what now 
 follows, because I have come in order, to the particu- 
 lar libel, which we have selected from the innumera- 
 ble calumnies of this Journal, and to which we call 
 your peculiar consideration. Business of moment, to 
 the nature of which, I shall feel it my duty presently^ 
 to advert, called Mr. O'Mullan to the metropolis. — 
 Through the libels of the defendant, he was at this 
 time in disfavour with his bishop, and a rumour had 
 gone abroad, that he was never again to revisit his an- 
 cient congregation. The Bishop in the interim return- 
 ed to Derry, and on the Sunday following, went to 
 officiate at the parish chapel. All ranks crowded 
 tremulously round him ; the widow sought her guar- 
 dian, the orphan his protector, the poor their pation, 
 the rich their guide, tiie ignorant their pastor; all, all, 
 with one voice, demand his recall, by whose absence 
 the graces, the charities, the virtues of life, were left 
 orphans in their communion. Can you imagine a more 
 interesting sjjectacle ? The human mind never con- 
 ceived — the hiunan hand never depicted a more in- 
 structive or delightful picture. Yet, will you believe 
 it ! out of this very circumstance, the defendant fabri- 
 cated the most audacious, and if possible, the most 
 cruel of his libels. Hear liis words: — "O'Mullan,'' 
 saj^s he, "' was convicted and degraded, for assaulting 
 his own Bishop, and the Recorder of Derry, in the pa- 
 rish cjiapel !" Observe the disgusting malignity of the 
 libel — observe the crowded damnation which it accu- 
 mulates on my client — observe all the aggravated 
 crime wliich it embraces. First, he assaults his vene- 
 rable Bishop — the great Ecclesiastical Patron to v»hom 
 he was sworn to be obedietit, and against whom he 
 never conceived or articulated irreverence. Next, he 
 assaults the Recorder of Derry — a Privy Councillor, 
 the supreme municipa! authority of the city. And 
 where does he do so ? Gracious God; in the very tem- 
 
o'mullan V. m'korkill. 121 
 
 pie of tliy worship ! Tliat is, says the inhuman libeller 
 — he a citizen — he a clergyman insulted not only the 
 civil but the ecclesiastical authorities, in the face of 
 man, and in the house of prayer ; trampling contu- 
 meliously upon all human law, amid the sacred altars, 
 where he believed the Almighty witnessed the profa- 
 nation ! I am so horror-struck at this blasphemous 
 and abominable turpitude, I can scarcely proceed. 
 AVhat will you say. Gentlemen, when I inform you, 
 that at the very time this atrocity was imputed to him, 
 he was in the city of Dublin, at a distance of one hun- 
 dred and twenty miles from the venue of its commis- 
 sion ! But, oh .' when calumny once begins its work, 
 how vain are the impediments of time and distance ! 
 Before the si'rocco of its breath, all nature withers, and 
 age, and sex, and innocence, and station, perish in the 
 unseen, but certain desolation of its progress ! Do you 
 wonder O'MuUan sunk before these accumulated ca- 
 lumnies ; do you wonder the feeble were intimidated, 
 the wavering decided, the prejudiced confirmed ? He 
 was forsaken by his Bishop ; he was denounced by his 
 enemies — his very friends fled in consternation from 
 the " stricken deer ;" he was banished Ji"om the scenes 
 ef his childhood, from the endearments of his youth, 
 from the field of his fair and honourable ambition. 
 In vain did he resort to strangers for subsistence ; on 
 the very wings of the wind, the calumny preceded 
 him : and from that hour to this, a too true apostle, he 
 has been " a man of sorrows,'^ " not knowing where to 
 lay his head.'' I will not appeal to your passions ; 
 alas ! how inadequate am I to depict his sufierings ; 
 you must take them from the evidence. I have told 
 you, that at the time of these infernally fabricated 
 libels, the Plaintiff' was in Dublin, and I promised to 
 adN ert to the cause by which his absence was occa- 
 sioned. 
 
 Observing in the course of his parochial duties, the 
 deplorable, I had almost said the organized ignorance 
 
122 SPEECH IN THE CASE 01" 
 
 oftlie Irish peasantry — an ignorance zvhence all their 
 crimes, and most of their sufferings originate; observ- 
 ing alsoj that there was no pubhcly estabhshed literary 
 institution to reheve them, save only to the charter- 
 schools, which tendered learning to the shivering 
 child, as a bounty upon apostacy to the faith of his 
 fathers ; he determined if possible to give them the 
 lore of this world, without offering as a mortgage upon 
 the inheritance of the next. He framed the prospec- 
 tus of a school, for the education of five hundred chil- 
 dren, and went to the metropolis to obtain subscrip- 
 tions for the purpose. I need not descant upon the 
 jrreat general advantage, or to this country the pecul- 
 iarly patriotic consequences, which the success of such 
 a plan must have produced. No doubt, you have all 
 personally considered — no doubt, you have all person- 
 ally experienced, that of all the blessings which it has 
 pleased Providence to allow us to cultivate, there is 
 not one which breathes a purer fragrance, or bears a 
 heavenlier aspect than education. It is a companion 
 which no mislbrtunes can depress, no chme destroy, 
 uo ememy alienate, no despotism enslave : at home 
 a friend, abroad an introduction, in solitude a solace, 
 in society an ornament, it chastens vice, it guides vir- 
 tue, it gives at once a grace and government to genius. 
 Withoutit, what isman? A splendid slave! a reason- 
 ing savage, vacillating between the dignity of an in- 
 telligence derived iunn God, and the degradation of 
 passions participated with brutes ; and in the accident 
 of their alternate ascendency shuddering at the ter- 
 rors of an hereafter, or embracing the horrid hope of 
 annihilation. What is this wondi'ous world of his 
 residence ? 
 
 A mighty maze, and all without a plan ; 
 
 a dark and desolate and dreary cavern,without wealth, 
 or ornament, or order. But light up within it the 
 
o'mullan v. m'korkill. I'^Z 
 
 torch of knowledge, and how wondrous the transi- 
 tion ! The seasons change, the atmosphere breathes, 
 the landscape Hves, earth unfolds its fruits, ocean rolls 
 in its magnificence, the heavens display their constel- 
 lated canopy, and the grand animated spectacle of 
 nature rises revealed before him, its varieties regula- 
 ted, and its mysteries resolved ! The phenomena 
 which bewilder, the prejudices which debase, the su- 
 perstitions which enslave, vanish before education. 
 Like the holy symbol which blazed upon the cloud 
 before the hesitating Constantine, if man follow but 
 its precepts, purely, it will not only lead him to the 
 victories of this world, but open the very portals of 
 Omnipotence for his admission. Cast your eye over 
 the monumental map of ancient grandeur, once stud- 
 ded with the stars of empire, and the splendours of 
 philosophy. What erected the little state of Athens 
 into a powerful commonwealth, placing in her hand 
 the sceptre of legislation, and wreathing round her 
 brow the imperishable chaplet of literary fame ? what 
 extended Rome, the haunt of banditti, into universal 
 empire ? what animated Sparta with that high unbend- 
 ing adamantine courage, which conquered nature her- 
 self, and has fixed her in the sight of future ages, a 
 model of public virtue, and a proverb of national in- 
 dependence ? What but those wise public institutions 
 which strengthened their minds witli early application, 
 informed their infancy with the principles of action, 
 and sent them into the world, too vigilant to be de- 
 ceived by its calms, and too vigorous to be shaken by 
 its whirlwinds ? But surely, if there be a people in the 
 world, to whom the blessings of education are pecu- 
 liarly applicable, it is the Irish people. Lively, ardent, 
 intelligent, and sensitive, nearly all their acts spring 
 from impulse, and no matter how tliat impulse be gi- 
 ven, it is immediately adopted, and the adoption and 
 the execution are identified. It is this principle, if 
 principle it can be called, which renders Ireland, al- 
 
124 SPEECH IN THE CASE 01' 
 
 ternately, the poorest and the proudest country in the 
 world ; now chaming her in the very abyss of crime, 
 now lifting her to the very pinnacle of glory ; which 
 in the poor, proscribed, peasant Catholic, crowds the 
 jail and feeds the gibbet ; which in the more fortunate, 
 because more educated Protestant, leads victory a 
 captive at her car, and holds echo mute at her eloquence; 
 making a national monopoly of fame, and, as it were, 
 attempting to naturalize the achievements of the uni- 
 verse. In order that this libel may want no possible 
 aggravation, the defendant published it when my client 
 was absent on this work of patriotism ; he published it 
 when he was absent ; he published it when he was ab- 
 sent on a work of virtue ; and he published it on all 
 the authority of his local knowledge, when that very 
 local knowledge must have told him, that it was desti- 
 tute of the shadow of a foundation. Can you imagine 
 a more odious complication of all that is deliberate in 
 malignity, and all that is depraved in crime ? I prom- 
 ised, Gentlemen, that I would not harrow your hearts, 
 by exposing all that agonizes mine, in the contempla- 
 tion of individual suflering. There is, however, one 
 subject connected with this trial, public in its nature, 
 and universal in its interest, which imperiously calls 
 for an exemplary verdict; I mean the liberty of the 
 press — a theme which I approach with mingled sensa- 
 tions of awe, and agony, and admiration. Consider- 
 ing all that we too fatally have seen — all that, perhaps, 
 too fearfully we may have cause to apprehend, I feel 
 myself cling to that residuary safeguard, with an affec- 
 tion no temptations can seduce, witli a suspicion no 
 anodyne can lull, with a fortitude that peril but infu- 
 riates. In the direful retrospect of experimental des- 
 potism, and the hideous prospect of its possible re- 
 animation, I clasp it with the desperation of a widowed 
 female, who in the desolation of her house, and the 
 destruction of her household, hurries the last of her 
 offspring through the flames, at once the relic of her 
 
m'kqrkill. 125 
 
 joy, the depository of her wealth, and the remembran- 
 cer of her happiness. It is the duty of us all to guard 
 strictly this inestimable privilege — a privilege which 
 can never be destroyed, save by the licentiousness of 
 those who wilfully abuse it. No, it is not in the 
 
 ARROGANCE OP POWER; NO, IT IS NOT IN THE ARTIFI- 
 CES OF law; NO, IT IS NOT IN THE FATUITY OF PRINCESj 
 NO, IT IS NOT IN THE VENALITY OF PARLIAMENTS TO 
 CRUSH THIS MIGHTY, THIS MAJESTIC PRIVILEGE ; REVIL- 
 ED, IT WILL REMONSTRATE ; MURDERED, IT WILL RE^ 
 VI VE; BURIED, it WILL RE-ASCEND; THE VERY ATTEMPT 
 AT ITS OPPRESSION WILL PROVE THE TRUTH OF ITS 
 IMMORTALITY, AND THE ATOM THAT PRESUMED TO 
 SPURN, W ILL FADE AWAY BEFORE THE TRUMPET OF ITS 
 
 RETRIBUTION ! Man holds it on the same principle 
 that he does his soul : the powers of this world cannot 
 prevail against it ; it can only perish through its own 
 depravity. Whai then sliall be his fate, through 
 whose instrumentality it is sacrificed ? Nay more, 
 what shall be his fate, who, intrusted with the guardi- 
 anship of its security, becomes the traitorous accessary 
 to its ruin? Nay more, what shall be his fate, by whom 
 its powers, delegated for the public good, are convert- 
 ed into the calamities of private virtue ; against whom, 
 industry denounced, merit undermined, morals calum- 
 niated, piety aspersed, all through the means con[i<ied 
 for their protection, cry aloud for vengeance ? What 
 shall be his fate ? Oh, 1 would hold such a monster, 
 so protected, so sanctified, and so sinning, as I would 
 some demon, who, going forth consecrated in the 
 name of the Deity, the book of life on his lips, and 
 the dagger of death beneath his robe, awaits the sigh 
 of piety, as the signal of plunder, and unveins the 
 heart's blood of confiding adoration ! Should not such 
 a case as this require some palliation ? Is there any ? 
 Perhaps the defendant might have been misled as t® 
 circumstances. No; he lived upon the spot, and had 
 the best possible information. .Do you think he be- 
 
1:26 SPEECH IN THE CASE Oi' 
 
 lieved in the truth of the publication ? No ; he knew 
 that in every syllable it was as false as perjury. Do 
 you think that an anxiety for tile Catholic community 
 might have inflamed him against the imaginary dere- 
 liction of its advocate? No; the very essence of his 
 Journal is prejudice. Do you think that in the ardour 
 of liberty he might have venially transgressed its 
 boundaries ? No ! in every line he licks the sores and 
 jpampers the pestilence of authority. I do not ask you 
 to be stoics in your investigation. If you can discover 
 in this libel one motive inferentially moral,oue single 
 virtue which he has plundered and misapplied, give 
 *him its benefit. I will not demand such an effort of 
 "your faith, as to imagine, that his northern constitu- 
 tion could, by any miracle, be fired into the admirable 
 \in mistaken energy of enthiisiasm ; — that he could 
 for one moment have felt the inspired frenzy of those 
 loftier spirits, who, under some daring but divine de- 
 hision, rise into the arch of an ambition so bright, so 
 baneful, yet so beauteous, as leaves the world in won- 
 der whether it should admire or mourn — whether it 
 -should weep or worship ! No; you will not only search 
 in vain for such a palliative, but you will find this pub- 
 lication springing from the most odious origin, and 
 'disfigured by the most foul accompaniments, Ibunded 
 in a bigotry at which hell rejoices, crouching with a 
 sycophancy at which flattery blushes, deformed by a 
 falsehood at which perjury would hesitate, and to crown 
 the climax of its crowded infamies, committed under 
 the sacred shelter of the Press; as if this false, slan- 
 derous, sycophantic slave could not assassinate private 
 worth without polluting public privilege ; as if he could 
 not sacrifice the character of the pious without pro- 
 faning the protection of the free ; as if he could not 
 poison learning, liberty, and religion, unless he filled 
 his chalice from the very font whence they might 
 have expected to derive the waters of their salvationi'! 
 
o*3ruLLAN V. m'korkill. 127 
 
 Now, Geiulemen, as to the measure of your dama- 
 iies : you are the best judges on that subject ; though, 
 indeed, I have been asked, and I heard the question 
 with some surprise, — why it is that we have iDrought 
 this case at aU to be tried before you. To that I 
 miglit give at once an unobjectionable answer, name- 
 ly, that the law allowed us. But I will deal much 
 more candidl}' with you. We brought it here, be- 
 cause it was as far as possible from the scene of pre- 
 judice ; because no possible partiality could exist ; 
 because, in this happy and united country, less of the 
 bigotry which distracts the rest of Ireland exists, than 
 in an}' other with which we are acquainted j because 
 the nature of the action, which we have mercifully 
 brought in place of a criminal prosecution, — the usual 
 course pursued in the present day, at least against the 
 independent press of Ireland, — gives them, if ihey 
 have it, the power of proving a justification ; and I 
 perceive they have emptied half the north here 
 for the purpose. But I cannot anticipate an objec- 
 tion, which no doubt shall not be made. If this habit- 
 ual libeller should characteristically instruct his coun- 
 sel to hazard it, that learned gentleman is much toa 
 wise to adopt it, and must know you much too well, 
 to insult you by its utterance. What damages, then^ 
 Gentlemen, can you give ? I am content to leave the 
 defendant's crime altogether out of the question, but 
 how can you recompense the sufferings of my client ? 
 Who shall estimate the cost of priceless reputation^-r 
 that impress which gives this human dross its currenr 
 cy, without which we stand despised, debased, depre- 
 ciated ? Who shall repair it injured ? Who can redeena 
 it lost? Oh ! well and truly does the great philosopher 
 of poetry esteem the world's wealth as ^^ trash" in the 
 comparison. Without it, gold has no value, birth no 
 distinction, station no dignity, beauty no charm, age 
 BO reverence ; or, should I not rather say, without it 
 i(?v«ry treasure impoverishes, every grace deforms, ev- 
 
128 SPEECH IN THE CASE OP 
 
 ery dignity degrades, and all the arts, the decorations, 
 ctnd accomplishments of life, stand, like the beacon- 
 blaze upon a rock, warning the world that its approach 
 is danger — that its contact is death. The wretch 
 without it is under an eternal quarantine ; — no friend 
 to greet — no home to harbour him. — The voyage of 
 his life becomes a joyless peril ; and in the midst of 
 all ambition can achieve, or avarice amass, or rapacity 
 plunder, he tosses on the surge — a buoyant pestilence ! 
 But, Gentlemen, let me not degrade into the selfish- 
 ness of individual safety, or individual exposure, this 
 universal principle : it testifies a higher, a more enno- 
 bling origin. It is this which, consecrating ihe hum- 
 ble circle of the liearth, will at times extend itself to 
 the circumference of the horizon ; which nerves the 
 arm of the patriot to save his country; which lights 
 the lamp of the philosopher to amend man : which, 
 if it does not inspire, will yet invigorate the martyr to 
 merit immortality ; which, when one world's agony 
 is passed, and the glory of another is dawning, will 
 prompt the prophet, even in his chariot of fire, and in 
 his vision of heaven, to bequeath to mankind the man- 
 tle of his memory ! Oh divine, oh delightful legacy of 
 a spotless reputation ! Rich is the inheritance it leaves; 
 pious the example it testifies ; pure, precious, and 
 imperishable, the hope which it inspires ! Can you 
 conceive a more atrocious injury than to filch from its 
 possessor this inestimable benefit — to rob society of its 
 charm, and solitude of its solace ; not only to outlaw 
 life, but to attaint death, converting the very grave, 
 the refuge of the sufl'erer, into the gate of infamy and 
 of shame ! I can conceive few crimes bejond it. He 
 who plunders my property, takes from me that which 
 can be repaired by time : but what period can repair 
 a ruined reputation ? He who maims my person, af- 
 fects that which medicine may remedy : but what 
 herb has sovereignty over the wounds of slander ? He 
 who ridicules my poverty, or reproaches my profes- 
 
O'MULLAN V» m'kORKILL. 129 
 
 £1011, upbraids me with that which industry may re- 
 trieve, and integrity may purify 5 but what riches . 
 sliall redeem the Bankrupt fame ? what power shall 
 blanch the sullied snow of character ? Can there be 
 an injury more deadly ? Can there be a crime more 
 cruel ? It is without remedy — it is without antidote — 
 it is without evasion ! The reptile calumny is ever on 
 the watch. From the fascination of its eye, no activi- 
 ty can escape I from the venom of its fang, no sanity 
 can recover. It has no enjoyment but crime ; it has 
 no prey but virtue ; it has no interval from the rest- 
 lessness of its malice, save when, bloated with its vic- 
 tims, it grovels to disgorge them at the withered shrine, 
 where envy idolizes her oivn infirmities. Under such 
 a visitation, how dreadful wouldvbethe destiny of the 
 virtuous and the good, if the providence of our consti- 
 tution had not given you the power, as, I trust, you 
 Aviil have the principle, to bruise the jiead of the ser- 
 pent, and crush and crumble the altar of its idolatry ! 
 And now, Gentlemen, having toiled through this 
 narrative of ^unprovoked and pitiless persecution, I 
 shoulvx with pleasure consign my client te your hands, 
 if a more imperative duty did not still remain to me, 
 and that is, to acquit him of every personal motive in 
 the prosecution of this action. No ; in the midst ot 
 slander, and suffering, and severities unexampled, he 
 has had no thought, hut that, as his enemies evinced 
 how malice could persecute, he should exemplify how 
 religion could endure ; that if his piety failed to affect 
 the oppressor, his patience might at least avail to for- 
 tify the afflicted. He was as the rock of Scripture be- 
 fore the face of infidelity. The rain of the deluge 
 had fallen — it only smoothed his aspersities ; the wind 
 of the tempest beat — it only blanched his brow ; the 
 rod, not of prophecy, but of persecution, smote him 5 
 and the desert, glittering with the Gospel dew, became 
 a miracle of the faith it would have tempted ! No, 
 Gentlemen 5 not selfishly has he appealed to tliis tri- 
 L3 
 
iSO 61'EE-CH !N THE CASE OF 
 
 bunal; but the venerable religion, wounded in his char- 
 acter, — but the august priesthood, vililied in his per- 
 son,— 4>ut the doubts of the sceptical, hardened by hi€ 
 acquiescence, — ^but the fidelity of the feeble, hazardeil 
 by his forbearance,goaded him from the pi'ofaned priva- 
 cy of tlie cloister into this repulsive scene of public ac- 
 cusation. In him, this reluctance springs from a most 
 "natural and characteristic delicacy : in us, it would be- 
 come a most overstrained injustice. No, Gentlemen: 
 thougli with him we must remember morals outraged, 
 religion assailed, law violated, the priesthood scandal- 
 ized, tlie press betrayed, and all the disgusting calen- 
 dar of abstract evil ; yet with him we must not reject 
 the injuries of the individual sufterer. We must pic- 
 ture to ourselves a young man, partly by the seli-de- 
 nial of parental love, partly by the energies of person- 
 al exertion, struggling into a profession, where, by the 
 pious exercise of his talents, he may make the fame, 
 the w<?alth, the flatteries of this world, so many angei 
 heralds to the happiness of the next. His precept is a 
 treasure to the poor; his practice, a model to the rich. 
 When he reproves, sorrow seeks his presence as a sanc- 
 tuary : and in his path of peace, should he pause by 
 the death-bed of despairing sin, the soul Ixjcomes imr 
 pnradised in the liglit of his benediction ! Imagine, 
 Gentlemen, you see him thus; and then, if you can^ 
 imagine vice so desperate as to defraud the world of so 
 fair a vision. Anticipate for a moment the melan- 
 nhoty evidence we must too soon adduce to you. Be- 
 hold iiim, by foul, deliberate, and infamous calumny, 
 Tobbed of the profession he had so struggled to obtain, 
 swindled from the flock he had so laboured to amelio- 
 rate, torn from th^ school where infant virtc^e vainly 
 mourns an artificial orphanage, hunted from tl>e borne 
 of his youth, from tlie friends of his heart, a hopeless,, 
 fortuneless, companionless exile, hanging in some 
 8t) anger scene, on the precarious pity of the few, whose 
 chai'ity might induce thek compassion to bestow^whgft 
 
©'mullan V, m'korkill, I3i 
 
 this remorseless slanderer would compel their justice 
 to withhold ! I will not pursue this picture; I will not 
 detain you from the pleasure of your possible com- 
 pensation ; for oh ! divine is the pleasure you are 
 destined to experience ; — dearer to your hearts shal! 
 be the sensation, than to your pride shall be the dig- 
 nity it will give you. What ! though the people will 
 hail the saviours of their pastor : what ! though the 
 priesthood will hallow the guardians of their brother; 
 though many a peasant heart will leap at your name> 
 and many an infant eye will embalm their fame who 
 restored to life, to station, to dignity, to character, the 
 venerable friend who taught their trembling tongues 
 to lisp the rudiments of virtue and religion, still dear- 
 er than all will be the consciousness of the deed. Nor, 
 believe me, countr3'men, will it rest here. Oh no ! if 
 there be light in instinct, or truth in Revelation, be- 
 lieve me, at that awful hour, when you shall await the 
 last inevitable verdict, the eye of your hope will not 
 be the less bright, nor the agony of your ordeal the 
 more acute, because you shall have, by this day's 
 deed, redeemed the Almighty's persecuted Apostle, 
 from the grasp of an insatiate malice — from the fang 
 of a worse thaw Phiiistiue persecution. 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OP 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS 
 
 m THE CASE OF CONNAGHTON v, DILLON^ 
 
 DELIVEP.ED IN THE 
 
 COUNTY COURT-HOUSE OF ROSCOMMOjS. 
 
 My Lord and Gentlemen, 
 
 In this case I am one of the counsel for the Plaiia- 
 tiff, who has directed me to explain to you the wrongs 
 for which; at your hands, he solicits reparation. It ap- 
 pears to me a case which undoubtedly merits much 
 consideration^ as well from the novelty of its appear- 
 ance amongst us, as for the circumstances by which it 
 is attended. Nor am I ashamed to say, that in my 
 mind, not the least interesting of those circumstances 
 is the poverty of the man who has made this appeal 
 to me. Few are the consolations wliich soothe — hard 
 must be the heart which does not feel for him. He is, 
 Gentlemen, a man of lowly birth and humble station; 
 with little wealth but from the labour of his hands, 
 with no rank but the integrity of his character, with 
 no recreation but in the circle of his home, and with 
 no ambition, but, when his days are full, to leave that 
 little circle the hdieritance of an honest name, and the 
 treasure of a good man's memory. Far inferior, in- 
 deed, is he in this respect to his more foi'tunate antag* 
 
134 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 onist. He, on the contrary, is amply either blessed 
 or cursed with tliose qualifications which enable a man 
 to adorn or disgrace the society in which he lives. He 
 is, I understand, the representative of an honourable 
 name, the relative of a distinguished family, the sup- 
 posed heir to their virtues, the indisputable inheritor 
 to their riches. He has been for many years a resi- 
 dent of your county, and has had the advantage of 
 collecting round him all those recollections, whicli, 
 sprmging from the scenes of school-boy association, 
 or from the more matured enjoyments of the man, 
 crowd, as it were, unconsciously to the heart, and cling 
 with a venial partiality to the companion and the 
 friend. So impressed, in truth, lias lie been with 
 lliese advantages, that, surpassing the usual expenses 
 of a trial, he has selected a tribunal where he vainly 
 Iiopes such considerations will have weight, and where 
 uG "gH kiiovv's my client's humble rank can have no 
 claim but to that which his miseries may entitle him. 
 I am sure, however, he has wretchedly miscalculated. 
 I know none of you personally ; but I have no doubt 
 I am addressing men who will not prostrate their con- 
 sciences before privilege or power ; who will remem- 
 ber that there is a nobility above birth, and a wealth 
 beyond riches ; who will feel that, as in the eye of 
 that God to whose aid they have appealed, there is 
 not the minutest diHerence between the rag and the 
 Tobe, so in the contemplation of that law which con- 
 stitutes our boast, guilt can have no protection, or in- 
 nocence no tyrant ; men who will have pride in prov- 
 ing, that the noblest adage of our noble constitution 
 is not an illusive shadow ; and that the peasant's cot- 
 tage, roofed with straw and tenanted by poverty, standi 
 as inviolated from all invasion as the mansion of the 
 roonarch. 
 
 My client's name. Gentlemen, is Connaghton ; and 
 when I have given you his name, you have almost all 
 iis Iji^toiy. To culuvate tl*e path of honest mdm" 
 
CONKAGHTON V. DI1.L0N. I3b 
 
 try, comprises, in one line, " the short and simple an- 
 nals of the poor.'' This has been his humble^ but at 
 the same time most honourable occupation, ft mat- 
 ters little with what artificial nothings chance may 
 distinguish the name, or decorate the person ; the 
 child ol' lowly life, with virtue for its handmaid, holds 
 as proud a title as the highest — -as rich an inheritance 
 ^s the wealthiest. Well has the poet of our country 
 f?aid — that 
 
 ** Piinces or Lords may flourish or raaj- fade, 
 A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; 
 But a brave peasantry, their country's pride, 
 When once destvoy'd, can never be supplied." 
 
 For all the viftues which: adorn thatpeasantry, which 
 can render humble life respected, or give the highest 
 stations their most permanent distinctions, my chent 
 Stands conspicuous. A hundred years of sad vicissi- 
 tude, and, in this land, often of strong temptation, have 
 rolled away, since the little form on which he lives re- 
 ceived his family : and, during all that time, not one 
 accusation has disgraced, not one crime has sullied it. 
 The same spot has seen his grandsire and his parent 
 pass away from this world : the village-memory re- 
 cords their worth, and their rustic tear hallows their 
 resting-place. After all, when life's mockeries shall 
 vanish from before us, and the heart that now beats 
 in the proudest bosom here, shall moulder unconscious 
 beneath its kindred clay, art cannot erect a nobler 
 monument, or genius compose a purer panegyric. 
 Such, Gentlemen, was almost the only inheritance 
 with which my client entered the world. He did not 
 disgrace it ; his youth, his manhood, his age, up to 
 this moment, have passed without a blemish ; and he 
 now stands confessedly the head of the little village is 
 which he lives. About five-aiid-twenty years ago, he 
 married the sisterof a liighly respectable Roman Cath- 
 olic clergyman, by wjiom he had a family of sever 
 
136 SPEECH IN THE CASE OW 
 
 children, whom they educated in the principles of mo 
 rahty and religion, and who, until the defendant's iiir 
 terference, were the pride of their humble home, and 
 the charm or the consolation of its vicissitudes. In 
 their virtuous children the rejoicing parents felt their 
 youth renewed, their age made happy ; the days of 
 labour became holidays in their smile ; and if the 
 hand of affliction pressed on tliem, they looked upon 
 their little ones, and their mourning ended. I cannot 
 paint the glorious host of feelings ; the joy, the love, 
 the hope, the pride, the blended paradise of rich emo- 
 tions with which the God of nature fills the father's 
 heart, when he beholds his child in all its filial loveli- 
 ness, when the vision of his infancy rises, as it were., 
 reanimate before him, and a divine vanity exaggerates 
 every tritle into some mysterious omen, which shall 
 smooth his aged wrinkles, and make his grave a mon- 
 ument of Iu>nour ! I cannot describe them ; but, if 
 there be a parent on the jury, he w'xW comprehend me. 
 It is stated to me, that of all his children, there were 
 none more likely to excite such feelings in the Plain- 
 tiff than the unfortunate subject of the present action: 
 she was his favourite daughter, and she did not shame 
 his preference. You shall find, most satisfactorily, 
 that she was without stain or imputation : an aid and a 
 blessing to her parents, and an example to her young- 
 er sisters, who looked up to her for instruction. She 
 took a pleasure in assisting in the industry of their 
 home ; and it was at a neighbouring market, where 
 she went to dispose of the little produce of that indus- 
 try, that she unhappily attracted the notice of the de- 
 fendant. Indeed, such a situation was not without its 
 interest, — a young female, in the bloom of her attrac- 
 tions, exerting her faculties in a parent's service, is as 
 object lovely in the eye oi' God, and, one would sup- 
 pose, estimable in the eye of mankind. Far difier- 
 ent, however, were the sensations which she excited 
 in the defendant. He saw her arrayed, as he confesses., 
 
CONNAGHTON V. BILLON. 137 
 
 m charms that enchanted him ; but her youth, her 
 beauty, tlie smile of her innocence, and the piety of 
 her toil, but inflamed a brutal and licentious lust, 
 that should have blushed itself away in such a pre- 
 sence. What cared he for the consequences of his 
 gratification ? — There was 
 
 " No honour, no relenting ruth, 
 
 To paint the parcjits fondling o'er their child, 
 
 Then show the ruin'd maid, and her distraction wild!" 
 
 What thought lie of the home he was to desolate r 
 What thought he of the happiness he was to plunder ? 
 His sensual rapine paused not to contemplate the 
 speakingpictureof the cottage-ruin, the blighted hope^ 
 the broken heart, the parent's agony, and, last and 
 most withering in the woful group, the wretched victim 
 herself starving on the sin of a promiscuous prostitu- 
 tion, and at length, perhaps, with her own hand, anti- 
 cipating the more tedious murder of its diseases ! He 
 need not, if I am instructed rightly, have tortured his 
 fancy for the misei'able consequences of hope bereft, 
 and expectation plundered. Through no very dis- 
 tant vista, he might have seen the form of deserted 
 loveliness weeping over the worthlessness of his world- 
 ly expitition, and warning him, that as there were cru- 
 elties no repentance could atone, so there were suf- 
 ferings neither wealth, nor time, nor absence, could al- 
 3eviate.* If his memory should fail him, if he should 
 deny the picture, no man can tell him half so efficient? 
 ]y as the venerable advocate he has so judiciously se- 
 lected, that a case might arise, where, though the 
 
 * Mr. Phillips here alluded to a verdict of 5000Z. obtained 
 at the late Gahvay Assizes, against the defendant, at the suit of 
 Miss Wilson, a very beautiful and interesting young lady, for a 
 breach of promise of marriage. Mr. Whitestone, who now plead- 
 ed for Mr Dillon, was Miss Wilson's advocate against hira on tbc 
 occHsion alluded to. 
 
 M 
 
138 SPEECH IN THE CASE OY 
 
 energy of native virtue should defy the spoliation of 
 the person, still crushed affection might leave an in- 
 fliction on the mind, perhaps less deadly, but certainly 
 not less indelible. I turn from this subject with an in- 
 dignation which tortures me into brevity ; I turn to 
 the agents by which this contamination was affected. 
 J almost blush to name them, yet they were worthy 
 of their vocation. They were no other than a meni- 
 al servant of Mr. Dillon, and a base, abandoned, profli- 
 gate ruffian, a brother-in-law of the devoted victim 
 herself, whose beastial appetites he bribed into sub- 
 serviency ! It does not seem as if by such a selection 
 he was determined to degrade the dignity of the mas- 
 ter, while he violated the liner impulses of the man, by 
 not merely associating with his own servant, but by 
 diverting the purest streams of social affinity into the 
 vitiated sewer of his enjoyment. Seduced by such 
 instruments into a low public house at Athlone, this 
 unhappy girl heard, without suspicion, their merce- 
 nary panegyric of the defendant, when, to her amaze- 
 ment, but, no doubt, according to their previous ar- 
 rangement, he entered and joined their company. I 
 do confess to you, Gentlemen, when I first perused this 
 passage in my brief, I flung it from me with a con- 
 temptuous incredulity. What ! I exclaimed, as no 
 doubt you are all ready to exclaim, can this be possi- 
 ble ? Is it thus I am to find the educated youth of Ire- 
 land occupied ? Is this the employment of the misera- 
 ble aristocracy that yet lingers in this devoted coun- 
 try ? Am I to find them, not in the pursuit of useful 
 science, not in the encouragement of arts or agricul- 
 ture, not in the relief of an impoverished tenantry, not 
 m the proud march of an unsuccessful but not less sa- 
 cred patriotism, not in the bright page of warlike im- 
 mortality, dashing its iron crown from guilty great- 
 ness, or feeding freedom's laurel with the blood of the 
 despot ! — but am I to find them, amid drunken pan- 
 ders and corrupted slaves, debauching the innocence 
 
GONNAGHTON V* DILLON. 139 
 
 «*f village-life, and even amid the stews of the tavern^ 
 collecting or creating the materials of the brothel ! 
 Gentlemen, I am still unwilling to believe it, and, with 
 ail the sincerity of Mr. Dillon's advocate, I do entreat 
 you to reject it altogether, if it be not substantiated by 
 the unimpeachable corroboration of an oath. As I 
 am instructed, he did not, at this time, alarm his victim 
 by any direct communication of his purpose ; he saw 
 that " she was good as she was fair,"' and that a pre- 
 mature disclosure would but alarm her virtue into an 
 impossibility of violation. His satellites, however, 
 acted to admiration. They produced some trifle 
 which he had left for her disposal ; they declared he 
 had long felt for her a sincere attachment ; as a proof 
 that it was pure, they urged the modesty with which, 
 at a first mterview, elevated above her as he was, he 
 avoided its disclosure. When she pressed the madness 
 of the expectation which could alone induce her to 
 consent to his addresses, they assured her that, though 
 ■in the first instance such an event was impossible, still 
 in time it was far from being improbable ; that many 
 men, from such motives, forgot altogether the differ- 
 ence of station : that Mr. Dillon's own family had al- 
 ready proved every obstacle might yield to an all- 
 powerful passion, and induce him to make her his 
 wife, who had reposed an affectionate credulity on 
 his honour ! Such were the subtle artifices to which 
 he stooped. Do not imagine, however, that she yield- 
 ed immediately and implicitly to their persuasions ; I 
 should scarcely wonder if she did. Every day shows 
 us the rich, the powerful, and the educated, bowing 
 before the spell of ambition, or avarice, or passion, to 
 the sacrifice of their honour, their country, and their 
 souls ; what wonder, then, if a poor, ignorant peas- 
 ant girl had at once sunk before the united potency 
 of such temptations ! But she did not. Many and ma- 
 ny a time the truths which had been inculcated by her 
 adoring parents rose up in arms ; and it was not until 
 
140 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 various interviews, and repeated artifices, and untir- 
 ing efforts, that she yielded her faith, her fame, and 
 Iier fortunes, to the disposal of her seducer. Alas, 
 alas ! how little did she suppose that a moment was 
 to come when, every liope denounced, and every ex- 
 pectation dashed, he was to fling her for a very sub- 
 sistence on the charity or the crimes of the world she 
 had renounced for him ! How little did she reflect 
 that in her humble station, unsoiied and sinless, she 
 migiit look down upon the elevation to which vice 
 would raise her ! Yes, even were it a throne, I say 
 .-ihe might look down on it. There is not on this 
 earth a lovelier vision ; there is not for the skies a 
 more angelic candidate than a young, modest maiden, 
 robed in chastity ; no matter what its habitation, whe- 
 iher it be the palace or the hut : — 
 
 '' So dear to Heaven is saintly Chastity, 
 That u hen a soul is found sinctrely so, 
 A thousand liveiied aiifrcls lackey her, 
 Driving far oii'tjach lliiiii;; of sia and guilt, 
 \nd in clear dream and solemu vision 
 'I'ell her of things that no gross ear can hear, 
 Till oft converse with hej<veuly habilunts 
 IJegins to cast a heam on the ontu ard shape, 
 The unpolluted temple of the mind, 
 And turns it by degrees to the souFs essence, 
 Till all be made immoital !" 
 
 Such is the supreme power of chastity, as described 
 by one of our divinest bards, and the pleasure which 1 
 feel in the recitation of such a passage is not a little 
 enhanced by the pride that few countries more fully 
 afford its exemplification than our own. Let foreign ' 
 envy decry us as it will. Chastity is the instinct 
 OP THE Irish female : the pride of her talents, the 
 power of her beauty, the splendour of her accomplish- 
 ments, are but so many handmaids of this vestal virtue; 
 It adorns her in the court, it ennobles her in the cot- 
 tage 5 whether she basks in prosperity or pines in sor* 
 
CONNAGHTON V, DILLON. 141 
 
 row, it clings about her like the diamond of the morn- 
 ing on the mountain floweret, trembling even in the 
 ray that at once exhibits and inhales it ! Rare in our 
 land is the absence of this virtue. Thanks to the mo- 
 desty that venerates ; thanks to the manliness that 
 brands and avenges its violation. You have seen that 
 it was by no common temptations even this humble 
 villager yielded to seduction. 
 
 I now come. Gentlemen, to another fact in the pro- 
 gress of this transaction, betraying in my mind, as base 
 a premeditation, and as low and as deliberate a decep- 
 tion as I ever heard of. While this wretched creature 
 was in a kind of counterpoise between her fear and her 
 affection, struggling as well as she could between pas- 
 sion inflamed and virtue unextinguished, Mr. Diilonj 
 ardently avowing that such an event as separation was 
 impossible, ardently avowing an eternal attachment, 
 insisted upon perfecting an article which should place 
 her above the reach of contingencies. Gentlemen, 
 j^ou shall see this document voluntarily executed by 
 an educated and estated gentleman of your country. 
 I know not how you will feel, but for my part, I protest 
 I am in a suspense of admiration between the virtue of 
 the proposal and the magnificent prodigality of the 
 provision. Listen to the article : it is all in his own 
 hand writing : — ;'• I promise," says he, " to give Mary 
 Connaghton the sum often pounds sterling per annum, 
 Avhen I part with her ; but if she, the said Mary, should 
 at any time hereafter conduct herself improperly or 
 (mark this, Gendemen,) has done so before the draw- 
 ing of this article, I am not bound to pay the sum of 
 ten pounds, and this article becomes null and void as 
 ifthe same was never executed. John Dillon.'' There, 
 Gentlemen, there is the notable and dignified docu- 
 ment for you ! take it into your Jury box, for I know 
 not how to comment on it. Oh, yes, I have heard of 
 ambition urging men to crime — I have heard of love 
 inflaming even to madness — I have read of passion 
 M2 
 
Ii2 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 rushing over law and religion to enjoyment ; but ne* 
 ver, until this, did I see a frozen avarice chilling the 
 hot pulse of sensuality ; and desire pause, before its 
 brutish draught, that it might add deceit to desolation ! 
 I need not tell you that having provided in the very 
 execution of this article for its predetermined infringe- 
 ment ; that knowing, as he must, any stipulation for 
 the purchase of vice to be invalid by our law ; that 
 having in the body of this article inserted a provisioa 
 against that previous pollution which his prudent ca- 
 price might invent hereafter, but which his own con- 
 science, her universal character, and even his own de- 
 sire for her possession, all assured him did not exist at 
 the time, I need not tell you that he now urges the in- 
 validity of that instrument ; that he now presses that 
 previous pollution ; that he refuses from his splendid 
 income the pittance of ten pounds to the wretch he has 
 ruined, and spurns her from him to pine beneath the 
 reproaches of a parent's mercy, or linger out a living 
 death in the charnel houses of prostitution ! You see. 
 Gentlemen, to what designs like these may lead a 
 man. I have no doubt, if Mr. Dillon had given his 
 heart fair play, had let his own nature gain a moment's 
 ascendency, he would not have acted so ; but there is 
 something in guilt which infatuates its votaries forward; 
 it may begin with a promise broken, it will end with 
 the home depopulated. But there is something in a 
 seducer of peculiar turpitude. I know of no charac- 
 ter so vile, so detestable. He is the vilest of robbers, 
 for he plunders happiness; the worst of murderers, for 
 he murders innocence; his appetites are of the brute, 
 his arts of the demon; the heart of the child and the 
 corse of the parent are the foundations of the altar 
 vvhicii he rears to a lust, whose fires are the fires of 
 hell, and whose incense is the agony of virtue ! I hope 
 Mr. Dillon's advocate may prove that he does not de- 
 serve to rank in such a class as this ; but if he does, I 
 hope the infatuation inseparably connected with such 
 
GONNAGHTON V* DILLON. 143 
 
 proceedings may tempt him to deceive you through 
 the same plea by which he has defrauded his misera- 
 ble dupe. 
 
 I dare him to attempt the defamation of a character^ 
 which, before his cruelties, never was even suspected. 
 Happily, Gentlemen, happily for herself, this wretched 
 creature, thus cast upon the world, appealed to the 
 parental refuge she had forfeited. I need not describe 
 to you the parent's anguish at the heart-rending disco- 
 very. God help ihepoor man when misfortune corner 
 upon him ! How few are his resources ! how distant 
 his consolation ! You must not forget, Gentlemen, that 
 it is not the unfortunate victim herself who appeals to 
 you for compensation. Her crimes, poor wretch, have 
 outlawed her from retribution, and, however the tempt- 
 ations by which her erring nature was seduced, may 
 procure an audience from the ear of mercy, the stent 
 morality of earthly law refuses their interference. — 
 No, no ; it is the wretched parent who comes this day 
 before you — his aged locks withered by misfortune, 
 and his heart broken by crimes of which he was un- 
 conscious. He resorts to this tribunal, in the language 
 of the law, claiming the value of his daughter's servi- 
 tude ; but let it not be thought that it is for her mere 
 manual labours he solicits compensation. No, you 
 are to compensate him for all he has suffered, for all 
 he has to suffer, for feelings outraged, for gratifications 
 plundered, for honest pride put to the blush, for the 
 exiled endearments of his once happy home, for all 
 those innumerable and instinctive ecstacies with which 
 a virtuous daughter fills her father's heart, for which 
 language is too poor to have a name, but of which 
 nature is abundantly and richly eloquent ! Do not sup- 
 pose I am endeavouring to influence you by the pow- 
 er of declamation. I am laying down to you the Bri- 
 tish law, as liberally expounded and solemnly adjudg- 
 ed. I speak the language of the English Lord Eldon, 
 a judge of great experience and greater learning — 
 
144 SPEECH IN THE CASE OP 
 
 (Mr. Phillips here cited several cases as decided by 
 Lord Eldon.) Such, Gentlemen, is the language of 
 Lord Eldon. I speak also on the authority oi' our 
 own Lord Avonuiore, a judge who iuuminated the 
 bench by his genius, endeared it by his suavity, and 
 dignified it by his bold nncompromising probity 5 one 
 of those rare men, who hid tiie thorns ol' law beneath 
 the brightest flowers oi" literature, and, as it were, with 
 ihe wand of an enchanter, changed a wilderness into 
 a garden ! I speak upon that high authority — but I 
 speak on other autliority paramount to all! — on the 
 authority of nature rising up within the heart of man, 
 and calling for vengeance upon such an o/.trage. God 
 forbid, that in a case of this kind we were to grope 
 our way througJi the ruins of antiquity, and blunder 
 over statutes, and burrow through black letter in search 
 of an interpretation which Providence has engraved 
 in living letters on every human heart. Yes; if there 
 be one amongst you blessed with a daughter, the 
 .smile of whose infancy still cheers your memory, and 
 tiie promise of wliose youtfi illuminates your hope, 
 who has endeared the toils of your manhood, whom 
 you look up to as the solace of your declining years, 
 Vi'hose embrace alleviated the pang of separation, 
 whose growing welcome hailed your oft anticipated 
 return — oh, it there be one amongst you, to whom 
 those recollections are dear, to vviiom those Hopes are 
 precious — let him only fancy that- daughter torn from 
 his caresses by a seducer's arts, and cast upon the 
 world, robbed of her iimocencc, — and tiien let him 
 ask his heart, " what moner, could reprise him /^' 
 
 The defendant. Gentlemen, canuot complain that 
 I put it thus to you. if, in place of seducing, he had 
 assaulted this poor girl — if he had attempted by force 
 what he has achieved by fraud, liis life would hav6 
 been the forfeit ; and yet how trilling in comparison 
 would have been the parent's agony ! fie has no right, 
 theji, to complain, if you «;houid estimate this outrag*v} 
 
CONNAGHTON V. DILLON. 145 
 
 ut the price of his very existence ! I am told, indeed, 
 this gentleman entertains an opinion, prevalent enough 
 in the age of a feudalism, as arrogant as it was barba- 
 rous, that the poor are only a species of property, to 
 be treated according to interest or caprice ; and that 
 wealth is at once a patent for crime and an exemption 
 from its consequences. Happily for this land, the day 
 of such opinions has passed over it — the eye of a purer 
 feeling and more profound philosophy now beholds 
 riches but as one of the aids to virtue, and sees in op- 
 pressed poverty only an additional stimulus to increas- 
 ed protection. A generous heart cannot help feeling, 
 that in cases of this kind the poverty of the injured is 
 a dreadful aggravation. If the rich sufler, they have 
 much to console them ; but when a po'>r man loses 
 the darling of his heart — the sole pleasure with which 
 nature blessed him — hov/ abject, how cureless is the 
 despair of his destitution ! Believe me. Gentlemen, 
 you have not only a solemn duty to perform, but you 
 have an awful responsibility imposed upon you. You 
 are this day, in some degree, trustees for the morality 
 of the people — perhaps of the whole nation; for, de- 
 pend upon it, if the sluicesof immorality are once open- 
 ed among tlie lower orders, the frightful tide, drifting 
 upon its suriace all that is dignified or dear, will soon 
 rise even to the habitations of the highest. I feel, 
 Gentlemen, I have discharged m?/ duty — I am sure 
 you wil I do lour^s. I repose my client with confidence 
 in your hands ; and most fervently do I hope, that 
 when evening shall find you at your happy fire-side, 
 surrounded by the sacred circle of your children, yon 
 may not feel the heavy curse gnawing at your heart, 
 of having let loose, unpunished, the prowlet^hat may 
 devour them. 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OP 
 
 JUR. PHILLIPS 
 
 IN THE 
 
 CASE OF CREIGHTON v. TOWNSEND. 
 
 DELIVERED IN 
 
 THE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS, DUBLIN. 
 
 My Lord and Gentlemen, 
 
 I AM, with my learned brethren, counsel for the 
 plaintiff. My friend, Mr. Curran, has told you the na- 
 ture of the action. It has fallen to my lot to state 
 more at large to you the aggression by which it has 
 been occasioned. Believe me, it is with no paltry af- 
 fectation of undervaluing my very humble powers that 
 I wish he had selected some more experienced, or at 
 least less credulous advocate. I feel I cannot do my 
 duty ; I am not tit to address you, I have incapacitated 
 myself; I know not whether any of the calumnies 
 which have so industriously anticipated this trial, have 
 reached your ears, but I do confess they did so wound 
 and poison mine, that to satisfy my doubts I visited the 
 house of misery and mourning, and the scene which 
 set scepticism at rest, has set description at defiance. 
 Had I not yielded to those interested misrepresenta- 
 tions, I might from my brief have sketched the fact, 
 and from my fancy drawn the consequences -, but as it 
 
148 SPEECH- IN THE CASE OF 
 
 is, reality rushes before my frightened memory, and 
 silences the tongue and mocks the imagination. Be- 
 lieve me, Gentlemen, you are impannelled there upon 
 no ordinary occasion ; nominally, indeed, you are to 
 repair a private wrong, and it is a wrong as deadly as 
 human wickedness can inflict — as human weakness 
 can endure ; a wrong which annihilates the hope of 
 the parent and the happiness of the child ; which in 
 one moment blights the fondest anticipations of the 
 heart, and darkens the social hearth, and worse than 
 depopulates the habitations of the happy ! But, Gen- 
 tlemen, high as it is, this is far from your exclusive 
 duty. You are to do much more. You are to say 
 whether an example of such transcendent turpitude is 
 to stalk forth for public imitation — whether national 
 morals are to have the law for tlieir protection, or ?m- 
 po7'ted crime is to feed upon impunity — whether chas- 
 tity and religion are still to be permitted to linger in 
 this province, or it is to become one loathsome den of 
 legalized prostitution — whether the sacred volume of 
 the Gospel, and the venerable statutes of the law, are 
 still to be respected, or converted into a pedestal on 
 which the mob and the military are to erect the idol 
 of a drunken adoration. Gentlemen, these are the 
 questions you are to try ; hear the facts on which your 
 decision must be founded. 
 
 It is now about tive-and-twenty years since the 
 plaintiff, Mr. Creighton, commenced business as a slate 
 mercliant in the city of Dublin. His vocation was 
 humble,, it is true, but it was nevertheless honest ; and 
 though, unlike his opponent, the heights of ambition 
 lay not before him, the path of respectability did — he 
 approved himself a good man and a respectable citi- 
 zen. Arrived at the age of manhood, he sought not 
 the gratification of its natural desires by adultery or 
 seduction. For him the home of honesty was sacred ; 
 for him the poor man's child was unassailed ; no do- 
 mestic desolation mourned his enjoyment j no anni- 
 
CREIGHTON V* TOWNSEND. 149 
 
 Versaiy of wo commemorated his achievements ; from 
 his own sphere of life, naturally and honorably he se- 
 lected a companion, whose beauty blessed his bed, and 
 whose virtues consecrated his dwelling. Eleven love- 
 ly children blessed their union, the darlings of their 
 heart, the delight of their evenings, and as they blind- 
 ly anticipated, the prop and solace of their approach- 
 ing age. Oh ! sacred wedded love ! how dear ! 
 how delighti'ul J how divine are thy enjoyments ! — 
 Contentment crowns thy board, affection glads thy 
 fireside 5 passion, chaste but ardent, modest but in- 
 tense, sighs o^er thy couch, the atmosphere of para?- 
 dise ! Surely, surely, if this consecrated rite can ac- 
 quire from circumstances a factitious interest, 'tis 
 when we see it cheering the poor man's home, or shed- 
 ding over the dwelling of misfortune the light of its 
 warm and lovely consolation. Unhappily, Gentle- 
 men, it has that interest here. That capricious pow- 
 er which often dignifies the worthless hypocrite, as 
 often wounds the industrious and the honest. The 
 late ruinous contest, having in its career confounded 
 all proportions of society, and with its last gasp sigh- 
 ed famine and misfortune on the world, has cast my 
 industrious client, with too many of his companions, 
 from competency to penury. Alas, alas, to him it 
 left worse of its satellites behind it; it left the invader 
 even of his misery — the seducer of his sacred and 
 mispotted innocence. Mysterious Providence ! was 
 it not enough that sorrow robed the happy home in 
 mourning — was it not enough that disappointment 
 preyed upon its loveliest prospects — was it not enough 
 that its little inmates cried in vain for bread, and heard 
 no answer but the poor father's sigh, and drank n« 
 sustenance but the wretched mother's tears ? Wa? 
 this a time for passion, lawless, conscienceless, licen- 
 tious passion, with its eye of lust, iXs heart of stone. 
 its hand of rapine, to rush into the mournful sanctu- 
 t\Tv gf misfortuiae, casting crime into tlie cup of wo» 
 
150 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 and rob the parents of their last wealth, their child : 
 and rob the child of her only charm, her innocence ! ! 
 That this has been done, I am instructed we shall 
 prove : what requital it deserves, Gentlemen, you 
 must prove to mankind. 
 
 The defendant's name, I understand, is Townsend. 
 He is of an age when every generous blossom of the 
 spring should breathe an infant freshness round his 
 heart ; of a family which should inspire not only high 
 but hereditary principles of honour ; of a profession 
 whose very essence is a stainless chivalry, and whose 
 bought and bounden duty is the protection of the cit- 
 izen. Such are the advantages with which he appears 
 before you — fearful advantages, because they repel 
 all possible suspicion ; but you will agree with me, 
 most damning adversaries, if it shall appear that the 
 generous ardour of his youth was chilled — that the 
 noble inspiration of his birth was spurned — that the 
 lofty impulse of his profession was despised — and 
 that all that could grace, or animate, or ennoble, was 
 used to his own discredit and his fellow-creature's 
 misery. 
 
 It was upon the first of June last, that on the banks 
 of the canal, near Portobello, Lieutenant Townsend 
 first met the daughter of Mr. Creighton, a pretty in- 
 teresting girl, scarcely sixteen years of age. She 
 was accompanied by her little sister, only four years 
 old, with whom she was permitted to take a daily walk 
 in that retired spot, the vicinity of her residence. The 
 defendant was attracted by her appearance — he left 
 his party, and attempted to converse with her; slie re- 
 pelled his advances — he immediately seized her in- 
 fant sister by the liand, whom he held as a kind of 
 hostage for an introduction to his victim. A prepossess- 
 ing appearance, a modesty of deportment, appareiitly 
 quite incompatible with an evil design, gradually silen- 
 ced her alarm, and she answered the comms^n-place 
 questions with which; on her way home, he addressed 
 
CREIGHTON V, TOWNSEND. 151 
 
 iter. Gentlemen.! admit it was an innocent imprudence; 
 the rigid rules of matured morality should have repel- 
 led such communication ; yet perhaps, judging even 
 by that strict standard, you will rather condemn the 
 I'amiliarity of the intrusion in a designing adult, than 
 the facility of access in a creature of her age and her 
 innocence. They thus separated, as she naturally 
 supposed, to meet no more. Not such, however, was 
 the determination of her destroyer. From that hour 
 until her ruin, he scarcely ever lost sight of her — he 
 followed her as a shadow — he way-laid her in her 
 walks — he interrupted !ier in her avocations — he 
 haunted the street of her residence ; if she refused to 
 meet him, he paraded before her window at the haz- 
 ard of exposing her first comparatively innocent im- 
 prudence to her unconscious parents. How happy 
 would it have been, had she conquered the timidity so 
 natural to Iier age, and appealed at once to their par- 
 don and their protection ! Gentlemen, this daily per- 
 secution continued for three months — for three suc- 
 cessive months, by every art, by every persuasion, by 
 every appeal to her vanity and her passions, did he 
 toil for the destruction of this unfortunate young crea- 
 ture. I leave you to guess liow many, during that in- 
 terval, might have yielded to the blandishments of 
 manner, the fascinations of youth, the rarely resisted 
 temptations of opportunity. For three long monihs 
 she did resist them. She would have resisted them 
 for ever, but for an expedient which is without a mo-^ 
 del — but for an exploit wiiich I trust in God will b.'^ 
 witllout an imitation. Oh yes, he might have returned 
 to his country, and did he but reflect, he would rather 
 have rejoiced at the virtuous triumph of his victim, 
 than mourned his own soul-redeeming defeat; he 
 might have returned to his country, and told the cold- 
 blooded libellers of this land, that their speculations 
 upon Irish chastity were prejudiced and proofless ;; 
 that in thezoreck of all else we had retained our honr 
 
id2 SPEECH IN THE CASE OP 
 
 our; that though the national lummary had descend- 
 ed for a season, the streaks of its loveliness still lin- 
 gered on your horizon ; that the nurse of that genius 
 which abroad had redeemed the name, and dignified 
 the nature of man, was to be found at home in the 
 spirit without a stain, and the purity without a suspi- 
 cion. He might have told them truly that this did 
 not result, as they would intimate, from the absence 
 of passion or the want of civilization ; that it was the 
 combined consequence of education, of example, and 
 of impulse ! and that, though in all the reveliy of en- 
 joyment, the fair flowret of the Irish soil exhaled its 
 fragrance and expanded its charms in the chaste and 
 blessed beams of a virtuous affection, still it shrunk 
 with an instinctive sensitiveness from the gross pollu- 
 tion of an unconsecrated contact. 
 
 Gentlemen, the common artifices of the seducer 
 failed ; the syren tones witli which sensuality awa- 
 kens appetite and lulls purity had wasted themselves 
 in air, and the intended victim, deaf to their fascina- 
 tion, moved along safe and untransformed. He soon 
 saw, that, young as she was, the vulgar expedients of 
 vice were ineffectual ; that the attractions of a glitter^ 
 ing exterior failed; and that before she could be 
 tempted to her sensual damnation, his tongue must 
 learn, if not the words of wisdom, at least the spe- 
 ciousness of afiected purity. He pretended an affec- 
 tion as virtuous as it was violent ; he called God to 
 witness the sincerity of his declarations ; by all the 
 vows which should for ever rivet the honourable, and 
 could not fail to convince even the incredulous, he 
 promised her marriage ; over and over again he invo- 
 Jked the eternal denunciation if he was perfidious. To 
 her acknowledged want of fortune, his constant reply 
 was, that he had an independence ; that all he wanted 
 was beauty and virtue ; that he saw she had the one, 
 that had proved she had the other. When she plead- 
 ed the obvious disparity of her birth, he answered. 
 
CREIGHTON V, TOWXSEJTB. 153 
 
 'hat he was himself only the son of an English farmer,; 
 that happiness was not the monopoly of rank or rich- 
 e<ii ; that his parents would receive her as the child of 
 their adoption ; that he would cherish her as the charm 
 of his existence. Specious as it was, even this did not 
 succeed ; she determined to await its avowal to those 
 who had given her life, and who hoped to have made 
 it immaculate by the education they had bestowed and 
 the example they had afforded. Some days after 
 this, he met her in her walks, for she could not pass 
 her paternal threshold without being intercepted. He 
 asked where she was going, — she said, a friend^, 
 know'ng her fondness for books, had promised her the 
 loan of some, and she was going to receive them. He 
 told, her he had abundance, that they were just at hrs 
 home, that he hoped after what had passed she would 
 teel no impropriety in accepting them. She was per- 
 suaded to accompany him. Arrived, however, at the 
 door of his lodgings, she positively refused to go any 
 farther ; all his former artifices were redoubled; he 
 called God to w^itness he considered her as his wife, 
 and her character as dear to him as that of one of his 
 sisters; he afiected mortification at an}^ suspicion of 
 his purity ; he told her if she refused her confidence^ 
 to' his honourable affection, the little infant who acr" 
 companied her was an inviolate guarantee for her pro 
 tection. 
 
 Gentlemen, this wretched child did suffer her cre- 
 dulity to repose on his professions. Her theory taught 
 her to respect the honour of a soldier ; her love re- 
 pelled the imputation that debased its object ; and 
 her youthful innocence rendered her as incredulous as 
 she was unconscious of criminality. At first his be- 
 haviour corresponded with his professions ; he wel- 
 comed her to the home of which he hoped she would 
 soon become the inseparable companion ; he painted 
 the future joys of their domestic felicity, and dwelt with 
 peculiar complacency on some heraldic onianient. 
 N2^ 
 
154 SPEECH IN THE CASE Or 
 
 which hung over his chimney-piece, and which, he 
 said, was the armorial ensign of his family ! Oh ! my 
 Lord, how well would it have been, had he but retra- 
 ced the fountain of that document; had he recalled 
 to mind the virtues it rewarded, the pure train of hon- 
 ours it associated, the line of spotless ancestry it dis- 
 tinguished, the high ambition its bequest inspired,the 
 moral imitation it imperatively commanded ! But 
 when guilt once kindles within the human heart, all 
 that is noble in our nature becomes parched and arid; 
 the blush of modesty fades before its glare, the sighs 
 of virtue fan its lurid flame, and every divine essence 
 of our being but swells and exasperates its infernal 
 conflagTation. 
 
 Gentlemen,^ I M'ill not disgust this audience ; I will 
 not debase myself by any description of the scene that 
 followed ; I will not detail the arts, the excitements, 
 the promises, the pledges with which deliberate lust 
 inflamed the passions, and finally overpowered the 
 struggles of innocence and of youth. It is too much 
 to know that tears could not appease — that misery 
 could not afiect — that the presence and the prayers 
 of an infant could not awe him ; and that the wretch- 
 ed victim, between the ardour of passion and the re- 
 pose of love, sunk at length, inflamed, exhausted, and 
 confiding, beneath the heartless grasp of an unsym- 
 pathizing sensuality. 
 
 The appetite of the hour thus satiated, at a tempo- 
 ral, perhaps an eternal hazard, he dismissed the sisters 
 to their unconscious parents, not, however, without 
 extorting a promise, that on the ensuing night. Miss 
 Creighton would desert her home for ever for the arms 
 of a fond, affectionate, and faithful husband. Faith- 
 ful, alas ! but only to his appetites, he did seduce her 
 from that " sacred home," to deeper guilt, to more 
 deliberate cruelty. 
 
 After a suspense comparatively happy, her parents 
 became acquainted with her irrevocable ruin. The 
 
CREIGHTON l\ TOWNSEND. 154 
 
 miserable mother, supported by the mere strength of 
 desperation, rushed half phrenzied to the castle, where 
 Mr. Townsend was on duty. " Give m.e back my 
 child ."' was all she could articulate. The parental ru- 
 in struck the spoiler almost speechless. The dreadful 
 words, " / have your child/^ withered her heart up 
 with the horrid joy that death denied its mercy, that 
 "her daughter lived, but lived, alas, to infamy. She 
 could neither speak nor hear ; she sunk down convuls- 
 ed and powerless. As soon as she could recover to 
 anything of eflort, naturally did she turn to the resi- 
 dence of Mr. Townsend ; his orders had anticipated 
 her — the sentinel refused her entrance. She told her 
 sad narration, she implored his pity ; with the elo- 
 quence of grief she asked him, had he homCy or wife. 
 X)T children. " Oh, Holy Nature ! thou didst not plead 
 in vain !" even the rude soldier's heart relented. He 
 admitted her by stealth, and she once more held with- 
 in her arms the darling hope of many an anxious hour : 
 duped, desolate, degraded, it was true — but still — but 
 still " her child.'^ Gentlemen, if the parental heart 
 eannot suppose what followed, how little adequate am 
 I to paint it. Home this wretched creature could not 
 return ; a seducer's mandate, and a father's anger 
 equally forbade it. But she gave whatever consola- 
 tion she was capable ; she told the fatal tale of her un- 
 doing — the hopes, the promises, the studied specious 
 arts that had seduced her; and with a desperate cre- 
 dulity still watched the light, that, glimmering in the 
 distant vista of her love, mocked her with hope, and 
 was to leave her to the tempest. To all the prophe- 
 cies of maternal anguish, she would still reply, "Oh, 
 no — in the eye of Heaven he is my husband ; he took 
 me from my home, my happiness, and you, but still 
 he pledged to me a soldier's honour — but he assured 
 me with a Christian's conscience ; for three long 
 months I heard his vows of love ; he is honourable and 
 ^ill not deceive ; he is human and cannot desert rae,"" 
 
J 66 SPEFXH IN TIIK CASE OF. 
 
 Hear, Gentlemen, hear, I beseech you, how this iiine- 
 'T.ent confidence was returned. When her indignant 
 father had resorted to Lord Forbes, the commander 
 of the forces, and to the noble and learned head of 
 this Court, both of whom received him with a sympa- 
 thy that did them honour, Mr. Townsend sent a bro- 
 ther officer to inform her she must quit his residence 
 and take lodgings. In vain slie remonstrated, in vain 
 she reminded him of her former purity, and of the 
 promises that betrayed it. She was literally turn- 
 ed out at night-fall, to find whatever refuge the God 
 of the shelterless might provide for her. Deserted 
 and disowned, how naturally did she turn to tlie once 
 happy home, whose hnnates she had disgraced, and 
 w^hose protection she lieid forfeited ! how naturally di4 
 she tliink the once familiar and once welcome avenues 
 looked frowning as she passed ! how naturally did she 
 linger like a reposeless spectre round the memorials 
 of her living happiness ! Her heart failed her; where 
 ■a piuent's smile had ever cheered her, she could not 
 face the glance of shame, or sorrow, or disdain. She 
 returned to seek her seducer's pity even till the morn- 
 ing. Good God ! how^ can I disclose it ! — the very 
 guard had orders to refuse her access : even b}^ the 
 rabble soldiery she was cast into the street, amid the 
 night's dvTrk horrors, tlie victim of her own credulity, 
 the outcast of another's crime, to seal her guilty woes 
 witli suicide, or lead a living death anfid the tainted 
 sepulchres of a promiscuous prostitution ! Far, far am 
 I from sorry that it was so. Ilorrible beyond thought 
 as is this aggravation,! only hear in it tlie voice of the 
 Deity in thunder upon the crime. Yes, yes ; it is the 
 present God ar»ning the vicious agent against the vice, 
 and terrifying from it^ ct-nception by the turpitude to 
 which it may lead. But wliat aggravation does seduc- 
 tion need ? Vice is its essence, lust its end, hypocrisy 
 its instrument, and innocence its victim. Must I de- 
 tail its miseries ? Who depopulates the home of virtue. 
 
GREIGHTON V* TOWNSEND. 157 
 
 making the child an orphan and the parent childless ? 
 Who wrests its crutch from the tottering helplessness 
 of piteous age ? Who wrings its happiness from the 
 heart of youth ? Who shocks the vision of the public 
 eye ? Who infects your very thoroughfares with dis- 
 easCj disgust, obscenity, and profaneness ? Who pol- 
 lutes the harmless scenes where modesty resorts for 
 mirth, and toil for recreation, with sights that stain the 
 pure and shock the sensitive ? Are these the phrases 
 of an interested advocacy ? is there one amongst you 
 but has witnessed their verification ? Is there one 
 amongst you so fortunate, or so secluded, as not to 
 have wept over the wreck of health, and youth, and 
 loveliness, and talent, the fatal trophies of the seducer's 
 triumph — some form, perhaps, where every grace was 
 squandered, and every beauty paused to waste its 
 bloom, and every beam of mind and ton,e of melody 
 poured their profusion of the public wonder ; all that 
 a parent's prayer could ask, or a lover's adoration fan- 
 cy ; in whom even pollution looked so lovely, that 
 virtue would have made her more than human ? Is 
 there an epithet too vile for such a spoiler ? Is there a 
 punishment too severe for such depravity ? I know 
 Rot upon what complaisance this English seducer may 
 calculate from a jury of this country : I know not, in- 
 deed, whether he may not think he does your wives 
 and daughters some honour by their contamination. 
 But I know well what reception he would experience 
 from a jury of his own country. I know that in such 
 general execration do they view this crime, they think 
 BO possible plea a palliation I no, not the mature age 
 of the seduced ; not her previously protracted absence 
 from her parents 5 not a levity approaching almost to 
 absolute guilt ; not an indiscretion in the mother, that 
 bore every colour of connivance ; and in this opinion 
 they have been supported by all the venerable author- 
 ities with whom age, integrity and learning, hay.c 
 adorned the judgment seat. 
 
168 SPEECH IX THE CASE OF 
 
 ' Gentlemen, I come armed with these authorities. 
 In the case of TulHdge against Wade, my Lord, it 
 appeared the person seduced was thirty years of age, 
 and long before absent from her home ; yet, on a mo- 
 tion to set aside the verdict for excessive damages, 
 what was tlie language of Chief Justice Wihuot ? " I 
 regret,'' said lie, ''that they were not greater; though 
 the plaintiff's loss did not amount to twenty shillings, 
 the jury were right in giv4ng ample damages, because 
 such actions should be encouraged for example's sake." 
 Justice Clive v/ished they had given twice the sum, 
 and in this opinion the whole bench concurred. Tho^e 
 was a case where the girl was of mature age, and liv- 
 ing apart from her parents; /We, the victim is almost 
 a child, and was never for a moment separated from 
 her home. Again, in the case of '* Bennet against 
 Alcott," on a sijnilar motion, grounded on the appa- 
 rently overwhelming fact, that the mother of the girl 
 had actually sent the defendant into her daughter's 
 bed-chamber, Avhere the criminality occurred. Justice 
 BuUer declared, '• he thought tlie parent's indiscretion 
 HO excuse for the defendant's culpability ;" and the 
 verdict of 200/. damages was confirmed. There was 
 a case of literal connivance ; here, will they have the 
 hardiliood to hiiit even its suspicion? You all must 
 remember. Gentlemen, the case of our own country- 
 man. Captain Gore, against whom, only the other day, 
 an English jury gave a verdict of 1500?. damages, 
 thougli it was proved that the person alleged to have 
 been seduced was herself the seducer, going even so 
 tar as to throw gravel up at tlie windows of the de- 
 fendant; yet Lord Ellenborough refused to disturb the 
 verdict. Thus you may see I rest not on my own 
 proofless unsupported dictann. I rely upon grave de- 
 ji'isions and venerable authorities — not only on the in- 
 dignant denunciation of the moment, but on the de- 
 liberate concurrence of the enlightened and the dis' 
 passionate* I see my learned opponent smile- I tcU. 
 
^REIGHTON l*. TOW^SENB. l5t) 
 
 iiim I would not care if the books were an absolute 
 blank upon the subject. I would then make the hu- 
 man heart my authority ! I would appeal to the bo- 
 som of every man who hears me, whether such a 
 crime should grow unpunished into a precedent; whe- 
 ther innocence should be made tlie subject of a brutal 
 speculation; whether the sacred seal of tilial obedience, 
 upon which the Almighty Parent has affixed his eter- 
 nal fiat, should be violated by,, a blasphemous and 
 selfish libertinism ? 
 
 Gentlemen, if the cases I have quoted, palliated as 
 they were, have been humanely marked by ample 
 damages, what should you give here where there is 
 nothing to excuse — where there is every thing to ag- 
 gravate ! The seduction was deliberate, it was three 
 months in progress, its victim was ahnost a child, it was 
 committed under the most alluring promises, it was 
 followed by a deed of the most dreadful cruelty ; but, 
 above all, it was the act of a man commissioned by his 
 own country, and paid by this, for the enforcement of 
 the laws, and the preservation of society. No man 
 more respects than 1 do the well-earned reputation of 
 the British army ; 
 
 " It is a school 
 "Where every principle tending to honour 
 Is taught — if followed." 
 
 But in the name of that distinguished army, I here so- 
 lemnly appeal against an act, which would blight its 
 greenest laurels, and lay its trophies prostrate in the 
 dust. Let them war, but be it not on domestic happi- 
 ness ; let them invade, but be their country's hearths 
 inviolable ; let them achieve a triuijiph wherever their 
 banners fly, but be it not over morals, innocence, and 
 virtue. I know not by what palliation the defendant 
 means to mitigate this enormity ; — will he plead her 
 youth ? it vshould have been her protection ; — will he 
 
160 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 plead her levity ? I deny the fact ; but even were it 
 true, what is it to him ? what right has any man to 
 speculate on the temperature of your wives and your 
 daughters, that he may defile your bed, or desolate 
 your habitation ? Will he plead poverty ? I never knew 
 a seducer or an adulterer that did not. He should 
 have considered that before. But is poverty an excuse 
 for crime ? Our law says, he who has not a purse to 
 pay for it, must suffer for it in his person. It is a most 
 wise declaration ; and for my part^ I never hear such a 
 person plead poverty, that my first emotion is not a 
 thanksgiving, that Providence has denied, at least, the 
 instrumentality of wealth to the accomplishment of his 
 purposes. Gentlemen, I see you agree with me. I 
 waive the topic ; and I again tell you, that if what I 
 know will be his chief defence were true, it should 
 avail him nothing. He had no right to speculate on 
 this wretched creature's levity to ruin her, and still 
 less to ruin her family. Remember, however, Gen- 
 tlemen, that even had this wretched child been indis- 
 (preet, it is not in her name that we ask for reparation ; 
 no, it is in the name of the parents her seducer has 
 heart-broken ; it is in the name of the poor helpless 
 family he has desolated ; it is in the name of that mis- 
 ery, whose sanctuary he has violated ; it is in the name 
 of law, virtue, and morality ; it is in the name of that 
 country whose fair fame foreign envy will make re- 
 sponsible for this crime ; it is in the name of nature's 
 dearest, tenderest sympathies; it is in the name of all 
 that gives your toil an object, and your ease a charmi 
 and your age a hope — I ask from you the value of the 
 jpoer man^s child, 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OP 
 
 vlfJR. PHILLIPn 
 
 IN THE 
 
 CASE OF BLAKE v. WILKINS: 
 
 DELIVERED IN THE 
 
 COUNTY COURT-HOUSE, GALWAY 
 
 May it please your Lordship, 
 
 The Plaintiff^s Counsel tell me, Gentlemen, 
 most unexpectedly, that they have closed his case, and 
 it becomes my duty to state to you that of the defen- 
 dant. The nature of this action you have aheady 
 lieard. It is one which, in my mind, ought to be very 
 seldom brought, and very sparingly encouraged. It is 
 founded on circumstances ol the most extreme deiioa- 
 cy, and it is intended to visit with penal consequences 
 the non-observance of an engagement, which Isof ihe 
 most paramount importance to society, and which, of 
 ail others, perhaps, ought to be the most unbiassed, — 
 an engagement which, if it be voluntary, judicious, 
 and disinterested, generally produces the happiest ef- 
 fects ; but which, if it be either unsuitable or compul- 
 sory, engenders not only individual misery, but conse- 
 quences universally pernicious. There are few con- 
 tacts between, human beings whicli should be more 
 (> 
 
163 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 deliberate than that of marriage. I admit that it 
 should be very cautiously promised, but, even when 
 promised, I am far from conceding that it should in- 
 variably be performed; a thousand circumstances 
 may form an impediment, change of fortune may ren- 
 der it imprudent, change of atiection may make it 
 culpable. The very party to whom the law gives the 
 privilegeof complaint, has, perhaps, the most reason 
 to be grateful, — grateful that its happiness has not 
 been surrendered to caprice ; grateful that Religion 
 has not constrained an unwilling acquiescence, or made 
 an unavoidable desertion doubly criminal; grateful 
 that an ofispring has not been sacrificed to the indeli- 
 cate and ungenerous enforcement; grateful that an in- 
 nocent secret disinclination did not too late evince it- 
 self in an irresistible and irremediable disgust. You will 
 agree with me.however, that if there exists any excuse 
 for such an action, it is on the side of the fem<ile,bccause 
 every female object being more exclusively domestic, 
 such a disappointment is more severe in its visitation ; 
 because the very circumstance concentrating their 
 ieelings reiiders them naturally more sensitive of a 
 wound ; because their best treasure, their reputation, 
 may have suffered from the intercourse ; because their 
 chances of reparation are less, and their habit lud se- 
 clusion makes them feel it more ; because there is 
 something in the desertion of their helplessness which 
 almost innnerges the illegality in the um^ijanlinessof 
 the abandonment. However, if a man seeks to en- 
 force this engagement, every one feels some indelica- 
 cy, attached to the retpiisition. I do not inquire into 
 the comparative justness of the reasoning, but does 
 not every one feel that there appears some meanness 
 in forcing a female into ah alliance ? ]s it not almost 
 saying, " I will expose to public sliame tlie credulity 
 on which I practised, or you must pay to me the mo- 
 nies num])cred, the profits oi' that heartless specula- 
 tiQn ; I have gambled with your alfections, I have se- 
 
BLAKE V, WILKINS. 163 
 
 cured your bond. I will extort tlie penalty either froin 
 your purse or your reputation !'' I put a case to you, 
 wliere the circumstances are reciprocal — where age, 
 fortune, situation, are the same: where there is no dis- 
 parity of yeius to make the supposition ludicrous, 
 where there is no disparity of fortune to render it sus- 
 picious. Let us see whether the present action can 
 be so pnlliated, or whether it does not exhibit a pic- 
 ture of fraud and avarice, and meanness and hypocri- 
 S}^, so laughable, that it is almost impossible to criti- 
 cise it, and yet so debasing, that human pride almost 
 forbids its ridicule. 
 
 It has been left to me to defend my unfortunate old 
 client from the double battery of Love and of Law, 
 which at the age of sixty-five has so unexpectedly 
 opened on her. Oh, Gentlemen, how vain-glorious 
 is the boast of beauty ! How misapprehended have 
 been the charms of youth, if years and wrinkles can 
 thus despoil their conquests, depopulate the navy of 
 its prowess, and beguile the bar of its eloquence ! — 
 How mistaken were all the amatory poets from An- 
 acreon downwards, who preferred the bloom of the 
 rose and the thrill of the nightingale, to the saffron 
 hide and diilcet treble of sixty-five ! Even «ur own 
 sweet bard has had the folly to declare, that 
 
 <' He once had heard fell of an amorous youth 
 Who was caught in his grandmother's lied ; 
 Biil owns he had ne'er such a liquorish tooth, 
 As to wish to be there in his stead." 
 
 Royal wisdom has said that we live in a " New Era.*" 
 The reign of old women has commenced, and if Jo- 
 hanna Southcote converts England to her creed, why 
 should not Ireland, less pious perhaps,but at least equal- 
 ly passionate, kneel before the shrine of the irresistible 
 Widow Wilkins ? It appears. Gentlemen, to have 
 been her happy fate to have subdued particularly the 
 death dealing professions. Indeed in the love epi- 
 
164 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 sodes of the heathen mythology, Mars and Venus 
 were considered as inseparable. I know not whether 
 any of you have ever seen a very beautiful print rep- 
 resenting the fatal glory of Quebec, and the last mo- 
 ments of its immortal conqueror — if so, you must have 
 observed the figure of the Staff physician, in whose 
 arms the hero is expiring — that identical personage, 
 my Lord, was the happy swain, who, forty or fifty 
 years, ago, received the reward of his valor and his 
 skill in the virgin hand of iny venerable client ! The 
 Doctor lived something more than a century, Anx'iug a 
 great part of which ]Mrs. Wilkins was his companion — 
 alas. Gentlemen, long as he lived, he lived not long 
 enough to behold her beauty — 
 
 " That beauty, like tlie x\loe flower, 
 But blossoind and bloom'd at fourscore." 
 
 He was, however, so far fascinated as to bequeath to 
 her the legacies of his patients, when he found he was 
 predoomed to follow them. To this circumstance, 
 very far be it from me to hint, that Mrs. W. is indebt- 
 ed for any of her attractions. Rich, liowever, she un- 
 ^ouluedly was, and rich she would still as undoubtedly 
 have continued, had it not been for the intercourse 
 with the family of the Plaintiff. I do not impute it 
 as a crime to them that they happened to be necessi- 
 tous, but I do impute it as both criminal and ungrate- 
 ful, that after having lived on the generosity of their 
 friend, after having literally exhausted her most pro- 
 digal liberality, they should drag her infirmities be- 
 fore the public gaze, vainly supposing that they could 
 hide their own contemptible avarice in the more pro- 
 minent exposure of her melancholy dotage. The fa- 
 ther of the Plaintiff, it cannot be unknown to you, was 
 for many years in the most indigent situation. Per- 
 haps it is not a matter of concealment either, that he 
 ff>uud in Mrs. Wilkins a generous benefactress. She 
 
BLAKE V. WILKINS. 165 
 
 assisted and supported him, until at last his increasing 
 necessities reduced him to take refuge in an act of in- 
 solvency. During their intimacy, frequent allusio* 
 was made to a son whom IMrs. Wilkins had never seen 
 since he was a child, and who had risen to a lieutenan- 
 cy in the navy, under the patronage of their relative 
 Sir Benjamin I5loomfield. In a parent's panegyric,- 
 the gallant lieutenant was of courr.^ all that even hope 
 could picture. Young, gay, heroic, and disinterested,^ 
 the pride of the navy, the prop of the country, inde- 
 pendent as the gale that wafted, and bounteous as the 
 wave that bore him. I am afraid that it is rather an 
 anti-climax to tell you after this, that he is the present 
 Plaintiff. The eloquence of Mrs. Blake was not ex- 
 clusively confined to her encomiums on the lieutenant. 
 She diverged at times into an episode on the matrimo- 
 nial felicities, painted the joy of passion and delights 
 of love, and obscurely hinted that Hymen, with his" 
 torch, had an exact personification in her son Peter 
 bearing a match-light in His iNIajesty's ship the Hy^ 
 dra ! — While these contrivances were practising on 
 ■Mrs. Wilkins, a bye-plot was got up on board the Hy- 
 dra, and Mr. Blake returned to his mourning country, 
 influenced, as he says, by his partiality for the Defenr 
 dant, but in reality compelled by ill health and disap- 
 pointments, added, perhaps, to his mother's very ab- 
 surd and avaricious speculations. Wiiat a loss the 
 navy had of him, and what a loss he had of the navy ! 
 Alas, Gentlemen, he could not resist his affection for a 
 female he never saw. Almighty love eclipsed the 
 glories of ambition — Trafalgar and St. Vincent flitted 
 from his miemory — he gave up all for woman, as Mark 
 Antony did before him, and, like the Cupid in Hudi> 
 feras, he 
 
 •' took his stand 
 
 Upon a widow's jointure land — 
 His tender sigh and trickling tear 
 Long'd for five hundred pounds a yeap^ 
 0-2' ■' 
 
166 JiPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 And languishhig desires were fond 
 
 Of Statute, JVlorlgage, Bill, aud Bond!" 
 
 — Oh, Gentlemeriy onfy imagine him on the lakes of 
 North America ! Alike to him the varieties of season 
 or the vicissitudes of warfare. One sovereign image 
 monopolizes his sensibilities. Does the storm riige ? 
 the Widow Wilkins outsighs the whirlwind. Is the 
 Ocean calm ? its mirror sliows him the lovely Widow 
 Wilkins. Is the battle won ? he thins his lanrels that 
 the Widow Wilkins may interweave her myrtles. Does 
 the broad-side thunder ? he invokes the Widow Wil- 
 kins ! 
 
 " A stceet liltle Cherub she sits up aloft 
 To keep watch for the lite of poor Peter !" 
 
 — Alas, how much he is to be pitied ! How amply h& 
 should be recompensed ! Who but must mourn his 
 sublime, disinterested, sweet-souled patriotism ! Who 
 but must sympathize with his pure, ardent, generous 
 affection ! — affection too confiding to require an in' 
 terview ! — affection too warm to icaiit even for an in- 
 trodnction! — Indeed, his Amanda herself seemed ta 
 rhink his love w as most desirable at a distance, for at 
 theveiy first visit after his return, he was refused ad- 
 mittance. His captivating charmer was then sick 
 and nurse-tended at her brother's house, after a win- 
 ter's confinement, reflecting, most likely, ratlier on 
 her funeral than lier wedding. Mrs. Blake's avarice 
 instantly took the alarm, and she wrote the letter, 
 which I shall now proceed to re^d to you. 
 
 [Mr. ^ andeleur. — My Lord, unwilling as I am to 
 interrupt a statement which seems to create so univer- 
 sal a sensation, still I hope your Lordship will restrain 
 Mr. Phillips from reading a letter which cannot here- 
 after be read in evidence. 
 
 Mr. O'Connell rose for the purpose of supporting 
 the propriety of the course pursued by the DafQU^-r 
 aat'.< Counsel, wher^ 
 
BLAKE l\ \VILKl.\.i. 167 
 
 Mr. Phillips resumed — My Lord, although it is 
 utterly impossible for the learned Gentleman to say, 
 in what manner hereafter this letter might be made 
 evidence, still my case is too strong to require any 
 cavilling upon such trifles. I am content to save the 
 public time^-and waive the perusal of the letter. How- 
 ever, they have now given its suppression an impor- 
 tance which, perhaps, its production could not have 
 procured for it. You see. Gentlemen, what a case 
 they have when they insist on the withliolding of the 
 documents which originated with themselves. I ac^ 
 cede to their very polite interference. I grant ther% 
 since they intreat it^ the mcrcij of my silence. Cer- 
 taui it is, however, that a letter was received from Mrs. 
 Elake; and that almost immediately after its receipt, 
 Miss Blake intruded herself r.t Brownville, where Mrs. 
 Wilkins was — remained two days — lamented bitterly 
 her not having appeared to the lieutenant, when he 
 called to visit her — said that her poor mother had set 
 her heart on an alliance — that she was sure, deariao- 
 maUj a disappointment would be the death of her; in 
 short, that there w a& no alternative but the tomb or 
 the altar ! To all this Mrs. Wilkins only replied, how 
 totally ignorant the parties most interested were af 
 each other, and that were she even inclined to con- 
 nect herself with a stranger (poor old fool !) the debts 
 in which her generosity to the family had already in- 
 volved her. foruaed, at least for the present, an insur- 
 iKountable impediment. This was not suflicient. la 
 less than a week, the indefatigable Miss Blake return^ 
 ed to tlie charge, actually armed with an old family- 
 bond to pay oh" the incumbrances, and a renewed re- 
 presentation of the mother's suspense and the bro- 
 ther's desperation. You w ill not fail to observe, Gen- 
 tlemen, that wliile the female conspirators were thus 
 at work, the lover himself had never seen the object 
 fifhls idoJatrj. Like the maniac in the farce, he fell 
 ir love with the picture of hi«? grandmother. Like 9 
 
168 SPEECH IN THE CASE Of 
 
 prince of the blood, lie was willing to w^oo and to be 
 wedded hy 'proxij. For the gratification of his ava- 
 rice, he was contented to embrace age, disease, infir- 
 mity, and widowhood — to bind his youthfulpassions 
 to the carcase for which the grave was opening — to 
 feed by anticipation on the nncold corpse, and cheat 
 the worm of its reversionary corruption. Educated 
 in a profession proverbially generous, he ofiered to 
 barter every joy lor money ! Born in a country ardent 
 to a fault, he advertised his happiness to the highest 
 bidder ! and he now solicits an honourable jury to be- 
 come the panders to his heartless cupidity ! Thus be- 
 set, harassed, conspired against, their miserable vic- 
 tim entered into the contract you have heard — a con- 
 tract conceived in meanness, extorted by fraud, and 
 sought to be enforced by the most profligate conspira- 
 cy. Trace it throvigli ever}^ stage of its progress, in, 
 its origin, its means, its etfects — -from the parent con- 
 triving it through the sacrifice of her son, and for- 
 warding it through \.\\e indelicate instrumentality of 
 licr daughter, down to the son himself, unblushingly 
 acceding to the atrocious combination by which age 
 was to be betrayed and youth degraded, and the odious 
 union of decrepid lust and precocious avarice blasphe- 
 mously consecrated by the solemnities of Religion ! Is 
 this the example which as parents you would sanc- 
 tion ? Is this the principle you would adopt your- 
 selves? Have you n:ver witnessed the misery of an 
 nnniutched marriage? Have you never worshipped 
 the bliss by which it has been hallowed, when its torch^ 
 kindled at afiection's altar, gives the noon of life its 
 warmth and its lustre, and blesses its evening with a 
 more chastened, but not less lovely illuminrition ? Are 
 you prepared to say, that this rite of Heaven, revered 
 by each country, cherished l^y each sex, the solemni- 
 ty of every Church and the Sacrament of one^ shall 
 be profaned into tiie ceremonial of an obscene aiid- 
 soul-degrading avarice I 
 
BLAKE i', WILKINS. 169 
 
 ^b sooner was this contract, the device of their co- 
 vetousness and the evidence of their shame, swindled 
 from the wretched object of this conspiracy, than its 
 motive became apparent ; they avowed themselves the 
 keepers of their melancholy victim ; they watched her 
 jnovements ; they dictated her actions ; they forbade 
 all intercourse with her own brother; they duped her 
 into accepting bills, and let her be an-ested for the 
 amount. They exercised the most cruel and capri- 
 cious tyranny upon her, now menacing her with the 
 publication of her follies, and now with the still more 
 horrible enforcement of a contract that thus betrayed 
 its anticipated inflictions ! Can you imagine a more 
 disgusting exhibition of how weak and how worthless 
 human nature may be, than this scene exposes ? On 
 the one hand, a combination of sex and age,disregard- 
 ing the most sacred obligations, and trampling on 
 the most tender ties, from a mean greediness of lucre, 
 that neither honour or gratitude or nature could ap- 
 pease, " Lucri bonus est odor exrequahhetJ^ On the 
 other hand, the poor shrivelled relic of what once was 
 health, and youth, and animation, sought to be em- 
 braced in its infection, and caressed in its infirmity — 
 crawled over and corrupted by the human reptiles^ 
 before death had siiovelled it to the less odious and 
 more natural vermin of the gifr.ve ! ! What an object 
 for the speculations of avarice ! What an angel lor the 
 idolatry of youth ! Gentlemen, when this miserable 
 dupe to her own doting vanity and the vice of others, 
 saw how she was treated — when she found herself con- 
 trolled by the mother, beset by the daughter, beggar- 
 ed by the father, and held by the son as a kind of 
 windfall, that, too rotten to keep its hold, had fallen 
 at his feet to be squeezed and trampled ; when she 
 saw the intercourse of her relatives prohibited,the most 
 trifling remembrances of her ancient friendship deni- 
 ed, the very exercise of her habitual charity denoun- 
 ced ; when she s:aw all that she was worth was to bo 
 
170 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 surrendered to a family confiscation, and that slie was 
 herself to be gibbeted in the chains of wedlock, 3x1 ex- 
 ample to every superannuated dotard, upon whose 
 plunder the ravens of the world might calculate, she 
 came to the wisest determination of her life, and deci- 
 ded that her fortune should remain at her own dispo- 
 sal. Acting upon this decision, she wrote to Mr. 
 Blake, complaining of the cruelty with Avhich she had 
 been treated, desiring the restoration of the contract 
 of which she liad been duped, and declaring, as the 
 only means of securing respect, her final determina- 
 tion as to the control over her property. To this let- 
 ter, addressed to the son, a verbal answer (mark the 
 conspiracy) was returned from the mother, withhold- 
 ing all consent unless the property was settled on hef 
 family, but withholding the contract at the same time. 
 The wretched old woman could not sustain this con- 
 flict. She was taken seriously ill, confined for many 
 months in her brother's house, from whom she was so 
 cruelly sought to be separated, until the debts in which 
 she Mas involved and a recommended change of scene 
 transferred her to Dublin. There she was received 
 with the utmost kindness by her relative, Mr. Mac 
 Kamara, to whom she confided the delicacy and dis- 
 ti'Cos of her situaiion. That gentleman, acting at 
 once as her agent and her liiend, instantly repaired 
 to Gal way, where he had an interview with Mr. Blake. 
 This was long before the commencement of any ac- 
 tion. A conversation took place between them on the 
 subject, which must, in my mind, set the present ac- 
 tion at rest altogether ; because it must show that the 
 non-performance of the contract originated entirely 
 with the plaintiff himself Mr. Mac Namara inqui- 
 red, whether it was not true, that Mr. Blake's own fam- 
 ily declined any connexion, unless Mrs. Wilkins con-< 
 sented to settle on them the entire of her property ? 
 j\Ir. Blake replied it was. Mr. Mac Namara rejoined, 
 that her contract did not bind her to any such exte«t.' 
 
BLAKE I". wilkij:?s. ITi 
 
 '•' No," replied Blake, " I know it does not ; however, 
 tell Mrs. VVilkinsthat I understand she has about 580/. 
 a year, and I will be content to settle the odd SOL on 
 her 6 , umi/ of pocket moneu.'^ Here, of course, the 
 conversation ended, which Mr. Mac jSamara detailed, 
 as he was desired, to Mrs. Wilkins, who rejected it 
 with the disdain, which, I hope, it will excite in every 
 honourable mind. A topic, however, arose during 
 the intervicv/, which unfolds the motives and illus- 
 trates the mind of Mr. Blake more than any observa- 
 tion which I can make on it. As one of the induce- 
 ments to the projected marriage, he actually proposed 
 the prospect of a 50/. annuity as an oflicer's widow's 
 pension, to which she would be entitled in the event 
 of his decease ! I will not stop to remark on the deli- 
 cacy of this inducement — I will not dwell on the ridi- 
 cule of the anticipation — I will not advert to the glar- 
 ing dotage on which he speculated, when he could se- 
 riously hold out to a woman of her years the prospect 
 of such an improbable survivoi^tip. But I do ask 
 you, of what materials must the man be composed who 
 could thus debase the national liberality ! What ! was 
 the recompense of that lofty heroism which has al- 
 most appropriated to the British navy the monopoly 
 of maritime renown — was that grateful offering which 
 a weeping country pours into the lap of its patriot's 
 widow, and into the cradle of its warrior's orphan — 
 was that generous consolation with wiiich a nation's 
 gratitude cheers the last moments of her dying hero, 
 by the portraiture of his children sustained and enno- 
 bled by the legacy of his achievements, to be thus de- 
 Jiberately perverted ijito the bribe of a base, reluctant, 
 unnatural prostitution ? Oh ! I know of nothing to pa- 
 rallel the self-abasement of such a deed, except the 
 audacity that requires an honourable Jury to abet it. 
 The following letter from Mr. Anthony JNIartin, Mr. 
 Blake's attorney, unfolded the hiture plans of this un- 
 feeling conspiracy, Peihaps the Gentlemen wouJH 
 
i 72 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 wish also to cushion this document ? They do net. 
 Then I shall read it. The letter is addressed to Mrs. 
 Wilkins. 
 
 '' Galway, Jan. 9, 1817. 
 '^ Madam, 
 
 " I have been apphed to professionally by Lieu- 
 tenant Peter Blake, to take proceedings against you 
 on rather an unpleasant occasion ; but from every let- 
 ter of your's and other documents, together with the 
 material and irreparable loss Mr. Blake has sustained 
 in his professional prospects, by means of //owr ^propo- 
 sals to him, makes it indispensably necessary for him 
 to get remuneration from you. Under these circum- 
 stances, I am obliged to say, that I have his directions 
 to take immediate proceedings against you, unless he 
 is in some measure compensated for your breach of 
 contract and promise to him. I should feel happy 
 that you would save me the necessity of acting pro- 
 fessionally by settling the business, [you see, Gentle- 
 men, money, money, money, runs through the whole 
 amour,] and not suffer it to come to a public investi- 
 gation, particularly, as I conceive from the legal ad^- 
 vice Mr. Blake has got, together with all I have seen, 
 it will ultimately terminate most honourably to his ad- 
 vantage, and to your ^ecwnmr?/ loss. 
 
 *' I have the honour to remain, 
 " Madam, 
 '^ Your very humble servant, 
 
 "ANTHONY MARTIN." 
 
 Indeed, I think Mr. Anthony Martin is mistaken. 
 Indeed, I think no twelve men, upon their oaths, will 
 say (even admitting the truth of all he asserts) that it 
 was honourable for a British officer to abandon the 
 navy on such a speculation — to desert so noble a pro- 
 fession — to forfeit the ambition it ought to have asso- 
 (ftated — the rank to which it leads^^the glory it may 
 
BLAKE V. WILKliN5. 173 
 
 confer, for the purpose of extorting from an old wo- 
 man he never saw, the purchase-money of his degra- 
 dation ! But I rescue the Plaintiff from this disgrace- 
 ful imputation. I cannot believe that a member of 
 a profession not less remarkable for the valour than 
 the generosity of its spirit — a profession as prover- 
 bial for its profusion in the harbour as for the prod- 
 igality of its life-blood on the wave — a profession ever 
 willing to fling money to the winds, and only anx- 
 ious that they should waft through the world its 
 immortal banner crimsoned with the record of a 
 thousand victories ! No, no, Gentlemen ; not- 
 withstanding the great authority of Mr. Antho- 
 ny Martin, I cannot readily believe that any man 
 could be found to make the high honour of this 
 noble service a base, mercenarj^, sullen pander to 
 the prostitution of his youth ! The fact is, that increas- 
 ing ill health, and the improbability of promotionj 
 combined to induce his retirement on half pay. You 
 will find this confirmed by the date of his resignation, 
 which was immediately after the battle of Waterloo, 
 which settled (no matter how^ the destinies of Europe. 
 His constitution was declining, his advancement was 
 annihilated, and, as a forlorn hope, he bombarded the 
 Wido^v Wilkins ! 
 
 " War thoughts had left their places vacant : 
 In their rpom came, thronging, soft and amorous desires; 
 All telling him how fair — young Hero was." 
 
 He first. Gentlemen, attacked her ioxXxm^with herself, 
 through the artillery of the church, and having failed 
 in that, he now attacks her fortune without herself 
 through the assistance of the law. However, if I am 
 instructed rightly, he has nobody but himself to blame 
 for his disappohitment. Observe, I do not vouch for 
 the authenticity of this fact; but I do certainly assure 
 you, that Mrs. Wilkins was persuaded of it. You 
 know the proverbial frailty of our nature. The gal 
 P 
 
174 SPEECH- IN THE CASE OF 
 
 lant Lieutenant was not free from it. Perliaps you 
 imagine that some younger, or according to his taste, 
 some older fair one, weaned him from the widow. In- 
 deed they did not. He had no heart to lose, and yet 
 (can you solve the paradox ?) his infirmity was love. 
 As the poet says — 
 
 '•' LOVE — STILL — LOVE." 
 
 No, it was not to Venus, it was to Bacchus, he sac- 
 rificed. With an eastern idolatry he commenced at 
 day-light, and so persevering was his piety till the 
 shades of night, tliat when he was not on his knees, 
 he could scarcely he said to be on his legs ! When I 
 came to this passage, I could not avoid involuntarily 
 exclaiming. Oh, Peter, Peter, whether it be in liquor 
 «r in love — 
 
 " None but thyself can be thy parallel 1" 
 
 I see by your smiling, Gentlemen, that you correct 
 my error. I perceive your classic memories recur- 
 ring to, perhaps, the only prototype to be found in 
 history. 1 beg his pardon. I should not have over- 
 looked 
 
 the immortal Captain Wattle, 
 
 Who was all for love and — a Ultlefor the boille.'^' 
 
 Ardent as our fair ones have been announced to be. 
 they do not prefer a flame that is so exclusivel}- spirit- 
 nal. Widow Wilkins, no doubt, did not choose to be 
 singular. In the words of the bard, and, my Lord, I 
 perceive you excuse my dwellinir so much on the au- 
 thority of the muses, because reully on this occasion 
 the minstrel seems to have combined the powers of 
 poetry with the spirit of prophecy — in the very \;ot(\< 
 of the bard. 
 
BLAKE V, WILKINS. 175 
 
 *'Heask'd her, would she marry him — Widow Wilkias an- 
 swer 'd iNo — 
 Then said he, I'll lothe ocean rock, I'm ready for the slaughter, 
 Oh ! I'll shoot at ray sad image, as it's sighing in the water.— 
 Only think of Widow Wilkins, saying— Go, Peter— Go 1" 
 
 But, Gentlemen, let us try to be serious ; and seri- 
 ously give me leave to ask you, on what grounds does 
 he solicit your verdict ? Is it for the loss of his profes- 
 sion ? Does he deserve compensation if he abandoned 
 it for such a purpose — if he deserted at once his duty 
 and his country to trepan the weakness of a wealthy 
 dotard ? But did he (base as the pretence is,) did he 
 do so ? Is there nothing to cast suspicion on the pre- 
 text ? nothing in the aspect of public affairs ? in the 
 universal peace ? in the uncertainty of being put in 
 commission ? in the downright impossibility of ad- 
 vancement ? Nothing to make you suspect that he 
 imputes as a contrivance, what was the manifest re- 
 sult of an accidental contingency ? Does he claim on 
 the ground of sacrificed affection? Oh, Gentlemen, 
 onh/fanc'j what he has lost — if it were but the blessed 
 raptures of the bridal night/ Do not suppose I am 
 going to describe it ; I shall leave it to the learned 
 counsel he has selected to compose his epithalamium. 
 I shall not exhibit the venerable trembler — at once a 
 relic and a relict ; with a grace for every year and a 
 eupid in every wrinkle — aftecting to shrink from the 
 llanie of his impatience, and fanning it with the am- 
 brosial sigh of sixty-five ! ! I cannot paint the fierce 
 meridian transports of the honey moon, gradually 
 melting into a more chastened and permanent affec- 
 tion — every Jiine months adding a link to the chain of 
 their delicate embraces, until, too soon, Death's broad- 
 side lays the Lieuteimnt low; consoling, however, his 
 patriarchal charmer, (old enough at the time to be 
 the last loife of Methusalem) with a fifty pound annii- 
 ity, being the balance of his glory against his M«/es- 
 ty'a ship the Hydra ! ! 
 
176 SPEECH IN THE eA&E OF 
 
 Give me leave to ask you, is this one of the cases, 
 to meet which, this very rare and dehcate action was 
 intended ? Is this a case where a reciprocity of cir- 
 cumstances, of affection, or of years, throw even a 
 jshade of rationahty over the contract ? Do not ima- 
 gine I mean to insinuate, that under no circumstances 
 ought such a proceeding to be adopted. Do not ima- 
 gine, though I say this action belongs more naturally 
 to a female, its adoption can never be justified by one 
 of the other sex. Without any great violence to my 
 imagination, I can suppose a man in the very spring 
 of life, when his sensibilities are most acute, and his 
 passions most ardent, attaching himself to some ob- 
 ject, 3'oung, lovely, talented, and accomplished, con- 
 centrating, as he thought, every charm of personal 
 perfection, and in whom those charms were only 
 heightened by the modesty that veiled them ; per- 
 Jiaj)s his preference was encouraged ; his affection re- 
 turned ; his very sigh echoed until he was conscious 
 of his existence but by the soul-creating sympathy — 
 until the world seemed but the residence of his love, 
 and that love the principle that gave it animation — 
 until, before the smile of her affection, the whole 
 spectral train of sorrow vanished, and this world of 
 wo, with all its cares and miseries and crimes, bright- 
 ened as by enchantment into anticipated paradise ! ! 
 It might happen that this divine affection might be 
 crushed, and that heavenly vision wither into air at 
 the hell-engendered pestilence of parental avarice, 
 leaving youth and health, and worth and happiness, a 
 sacrifice to its unnatural and mercenary caprices. 
 Far am I from saying, that such a case Avould not call 
 for expiation, particularly where the punishment felt' 
 upon the very vice in which the ruin had originated. 
 Yet even there perhaps an honourable mind would 
 rather despise the mean, unmerited desertion. Oh, I 
 am sure a sensitive mind would rather droop uncom- 
 plaining into the grave, than solicit the mockery of 
 
BLAKE r. WILKINS. 177 
 
 a worldly compensation ! But in the case before you, 
 is there the slightest ground for supposing any affec- 
 tion ? Do you believe, if any accident bereft the De- 
 fendant of her fortune, that her persecutor would be 
 likely to retain his constancy ? Do you believe that 
 the marriage thus sought to be enforced, was one like- 
 ly to promote morality and virtue ? Do you believe 
 that those delicious fruits by which the struggles of 
 social life are sweetened, and the anxieties of paren- 
 tal care alleviated, were ever once anticipated ? Do 
 you think that such an union could exhibit those re- 
 ciprocities of love and endearments by which this ten- 
 der rite should be consecrated and recommended ? 
 Do you not rather believe that it originated in avarice 
 — that it was promoted by conspiracy — and that it 
 would not perhaps have lingered through some months 
 of crime, and then terminated in a heartless and dis- 
 gusting abandonment ? 
 
 Gentlemen, these are the questions which you will 
 discuss in your Jury-room. I am not afraid of your 
 decision. Remember I ask you for no mitigation of 
 damfjges. Nothing less than your verdict will satis» 
 fy me. By that verdict you will sustain the dignity 
 of your sex — by that verdict you will uphold the hon- 
 our of the national character — by that verdict you 
 will assure, not only the immense multitude of both 
 sexes that thus so unusually crowds around you, but 
 the whole rising generation of your country, That 
 
 MARRIAGE CAN NEVER BE ATTENDED WITH HONOUR OR. 
 BLESSED WITH HAPPINESS, IF IT HAS NOT ITS ORIGIN 
 
 IN MUTUAL AFFECTION. I Surrender with confidence 
 my case to your decision. 
 
 [The damages were laid at 50001. and the PlaintifPs 
 Counsel were, in the end, contented to withdraw $t 
 Juror, and let him pay his own Costs.] 
 P2. 
 
A 
 
 CHARACTER 
 
 OP 
 
 ^yfAPOJLEON BUOJV.ar^RTE, 
 
 DOWN TO THE PERIOD OF HIS 
 
 EXILE TO ELBA. 
 
 HE IS FALLEN ! 
 
 We may now pause before that splendid prodigy^ 
 which towered amongst us hke some ancient ruin^ 
 whose frown terrified the glance its magnificence at- 
 tracted. 
 
 Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the 
 throne, a sceptred hermit^ wrapt in the solitude of his 
 own originality. 
 
 A mind bold^ independent, and decisive — a will^ 
 despotic in its dictates — an energy tliat distanced ex- 
 pedition and a conscience pliable to every touch of in- 
 terest, marked the outhne of this extraordhiary chal'- 
 acter — the most extraordinary, perhaps, that in the 
 anriiils of this world, ever rose, or reigned, or fell. 
 
 Flung into hfe, in the midst of a Revolution, that 
 quickened every energy of a ])eople who acknowl- 
 edged no superior, he commenced his course, a stran- 
 ger by birth, and a scholar by charity i 
 
 With no friend but liis sword, aud no fortune but 
 
180 CHARACTER OP 
 
 his talents, he rushed into the hsts where rank, and 
 weahh, and genius had arrayed themselves, and com- 
 petition fled from him as from the glance of destiny. 
 He knew no motive but interest — he acknowledged 
 no criterion but success — he worshipped no God but 
 ambition, and with an eastern devotion he knelt at the 
 shrine of his idolatry. Subsidiary to this, there was 
 no creed that he did not profess, there was no opinion 
 that he did not promulgate ; in the hope of a dynasty, 
 he upheld the crescent ; for the sake of a divorce, he 
 bowed before the Cross : the orphan of St. Louis, he 
 became the adopted child of the Republic : and with 
 a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins both of the 
 throne and the tribune, he reared the throne of his 
 despotism. 
 
 A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the Pope ; a 
 pretended patriot, he impoverished the country ; 
 and in the name of Brutus,* he grasped without re- 
 morse, and wore without shame, the diadem of the 
 Cicsars ! 
 
 Through this pantomime of his policy, fortune 
 played the clown to his caprices. At his touch, crowns 
 crumbled, beggars reigned, systems vanished, the 
 wildest theories took the colour of his whim, and all 
 that was venerable, and all that was novel, changed 
 places with the rapidity of a drama. Even apparent 
 defeat assumed the appearance of victory — his flight 
 from Egypt confirmed his destiny — ruin itself only 
 elevated him to empire. 
 
 But if his fortune was great, his genius was trans- 
 cendent ; decision flashed upon his councils ; and it 
 was the same to decide and to perform. To inferior in- 
 tellects, his combinations appeared perfectly impossi- 
 ble, his plans perfectly impracticable j but in his 
 
 *In his hypocritical cant after Liberty, in the commencement 
 of the Revolution, he assumed the name of Brutus — ^Proh Pu- 
 
BUONAPARTE. 181 
 
 Jiands, simplicity marked their developement, and 
 success vindicated their adoption. 
 
 His person partook the character of his mind — if 
 ihe one never yielded in the cabinet, the other never 
 bent in the field. 
 
 Nature had no obstacles that he did not surmount — 
 space no opposition that he did not spurn ; and wheth- 
 er amid Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or polar snows, 
 he seemed proof against peril, and empowered with 
 ubiquity •' The whole continent of Europe trembled 
 at beholding the audacity of his designs, and the mir- 
 acle of their execution. Scepticism bowed to the 
 prodigies of his performance ; romance assumed the 
 air of history ; nor was their aught too incredible for 
 belief, or too fanciful for expectation, when the world 
 saw a subaltern of Corsica waving his imperial flag 
 over Iier most ancient capitals. All the visions of 
 antiquity became common places in his contempla- 
 tion ; kings were his people — nations were his out- 
 posts 3 and he disposed of courts, and crowns, and 
 eamps, and churches, and cabinets, as if they were the 
 titular dignitaries of the chess-board ! 
 
 Amid all these changes he stood immutable as ada- 
 mant. It mattered little whether in the field or the 
 drawing room — with the mob or the levee — wearing 
 the jacobin bonnet or the iron crown — banishing a 
 Braganza,or espousing a Hapsbourgh — dictating peace 
 on a raft to the czar of Russia, or contemplating de- 
 feat at the gallows of Leipsic — he was still the same 
 military despot ! 
 
 Cradled in the camp, he was to the last hour the 
 darling of the army ; and whether in the camp or in 
 the cabinet he never forsook a friend or forgot a fa- 
 vour. Of all his soldiers, not one abandoned him, till 
 afiection was useless, and their first stipulation was for 
 the safety of their favourite. 
 
 They well knew that if he was lavish of them, he 
 >^^s prodigal of himself; and that if he exposed them 
 
132 CnARACTER OF 
 
 to peril, he repaid them with plunder. For the sol- 
 dier, he subsidized every people ; to the people he 
 made even pride pay tribute. The victorious vete- 
 ran glittered with his gains; and the capital, gorgeous 
 with the spoils of art, became the miniature metropo- 
 lis of the universe. In this wonderful ccnnbination, 
 his affectation of literature must not be omitted. The 
 jailor of the press, he affected the patronage of let- 
 ters — the proscriber of books, he encouraged philoso- 
 phy — tlie persecutor of authors, and the murderer of 
 printers, he yet pretended to the protection of learn- 
 ing ! — the assassin of Palm, the silencer of De Stael, 
 and the denouncer of Kotzebuc, he was the friend of 
 David, the benefactor of De Lille, and sent his aca- 
 demic prize to the phllosopiier of England.* 
 
 Such a medley of contradictions, and at the same 
 time such an individual consistency, were never united 
 in the same character — A Royahst — A Republican 
 and an Emperor— a Mahometan — a Catholic and a 
 patron of the Synagogue — a Subaltern and a Sove- 
 reign — a Traitor and a Tyrant — a Christian and an 
 Infidel — he was, through all his vicissitudes, the same 
 stern, impatient, inllexible original — the same myste- 
 rious incompreliensible seli^ — the man without a mod- 
 el, and without a shadow. 
 
 His fall, like his Hie, baffled all speculation. In 
 short, his whole history was like a dream to the world, 
 and no man can tell how or why he was awakened 
 from the reverie. 
 
 Sucli is a faint and feeble picture of Napoleon 
 Buonaparte, the lirst, (and it is said to be hoped the 
 last) Emperor of the French. 
 
 That he has done much evil there is little doubt ; 
 tJiat he has been the origin of much good there is just 
 as little. Through his means, intentional or not, 
 
 * Sir Humphrey Davy was transaaittej the first prize of the 
 AcaduGiy of Sciences 
 
BUONAPARTE. 183 
 
 Spain, Portugal, and France, have arisen to the bles- 
 sing of a Free Constitution ; Superstition has found 
 her grave in the ruins of the Inquisition;* and the 
 Feudal system, with its whole train of tyrannic satel- 
 lites, has fled. for ever. Kings may learn from him 
 that their safest study, as well as their noblest, is the 
 interest of the people ; the people are taught by him 
 that there )S no despotism so stupendous against which 
 they have not a resource ; and to tliose v.ho would 
 rise upon the ruins of both, he is a living lesson that 
 if ambition ran raise them from the lowest station, it 
 can also prostrate them from the highest. 
 
 "* What melancholy reflections does not thissentence awaken; 
 but (liree years have elapsed .since it was written^ and in that 
 short space ail the good ett'ected by Napoleon has been erased by 
 the Leu;itimates, and the most questionable parts of his (rharac- 
 ter badly iniraitated I — His successors want nothing but his Gen- 
 ius. 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. PHILIAPS^ 
 
 IN THE CASE OF BROWNE v. BLAKE : 
 
 FOR CRIM. COJY. 
 DELIVERED IN DUBLIN, JULY 9, 1817. 
 
 Mu Lord and Gentlemen, 
 
 I a:.i instructed by the plaintiff to lay his case be- 
 fore yoLj, and little do I wonder at the great interest 
 which it seems to have excited. It is oiie of those 
 cases which come home to the ^' business and the bo- 
 soms" of mankind — it is not confined to the individu- 
 als concerned — it visits every circle, from the highest 
 to the lowest — it alarms tlie very heart of the commu- 
 nity, and commands the whole social family to the 
 spot where human natiu'e, prostrated at the bar of 
 public justice, calls aloud for pity and protection ! On 
 my first addressing a jury upon a subject of this na- 
 ture, I took the high ground to which I deemed my- 
 self entitled — I stood upon the purity of the national 
 character — I relied upon that cliastity which centuries 
 had made proverbial, and almost drowned the cry of 
 individual suffering in the violated reputation of the 
 country. Humbled and abashed, I must resign the 
 topic — indignation at the noveliy of the offence has 
 given way to horror at the frequency of its repetition. 
 It is now becoming almost fashionable amongst us : 
 Q 
 
186 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 we are importing the follies, and naturalizing the vi- 
 ces, of the continent; scarcely a term pai^ses in tliese 
 courts, during which some unahashed adulterer or se- 
 ducer does not announce himself improving on the 
 ©diousness of liis offence, by the profligacy of his jus- 
 tilicati m, and, as it were, struggling to record, by 
 crimes, the desolating progress of our barbarous civil- 
 ization. Gentlemen, if this be suffered to continue, 
 what home shall be safe, what hearth shall be sacred, 
 what parent can, for a moment, calculate on the pos- 
 session of his child, what child shall be secure against 
 the orphanage that springs from prostitution r What 
 solitary right, whether of life, or of liberty, or of prop- 
 erty, hi the land, shall survive amongst us, if that hal- 
 ]owed couch which modesty has veiled and love en- 
 deared and religion consecrated, is to be invaded by a 
 vulgar and promiscuous libertin-sm? A time there 
 was wlien that couch was inviolable in Ireland — when 
 conjugal inftdclity was deemed but an invention — 
 when marriar;e was considered as a sacrament of ti)e 
 heart, and faith and affection sent a mingled flame to- 
 gether from the altar : are such times to dwindle into 
 a legend of tradition ? Are the dearest rights of man, 
 and the holiest ordinances of God, no more to be re- 
 spected ? Is the marriage vow to become but tlie pre- 
 lude to perjury and juostitution ? Shall our enjoy- 
 ments debase themselves into an adulterous participa- 
 tion, and our children propagate an incestuous com- 
 munity ? — Hear the case w hicli I am fated to ujifold, 
 and then tell me whether a sinQ;}e virtue is yet to lin- 
 ger amongst us with inn)unity — whetlier honour, 
 friendsliip, or hospitality, are to be sacred — vvliether 
 that endearing confidence by which riie bitterness of 
 this life is sweetened, is to become the in-trument of 
 a perfiily l)eyond conception; and whether the protec- 
 tion of the roof, the fraternity of tlie board, the obli- 
 gations of the altar, and the devotion eCtho heart, are 
 to be so many panders to the heliisli abomina- 
 
BROWNE I'. BLAKE. 1$V* 
 
 tioiis theyshoiikl have purified. — Hear the case which 
 must go forth to the world, but which, I trust in God, 
 your verdict will accornpcuiy, to tell that world, tliatif 
 there was vice enough amongst us to commit the crime, 
 there is virtue enough to brand it with an indignant 
 punishment. 
 
 Of the plaintiff', Mr. Browne, it is quite impossible 
 but you must have heard much — his misfortune has 
 given liim sad celebrity, and it does seem a peculiar 
 incident to such misfortune, that the loss of happiness 
 is almost invariably succeeded by the deprivation of 
 character. As the less guilty murderer v»ill hide the 
 corse that may lead to his detection, so does the adul- 
 terer, by obscuring the reputation of his victim, seek 
 to diminish the moral responsibility he had incurred. 
 Mr. Browne undoubtedly forms no exception to this 
 system — betrayed by his friend, and abandoned by his 
 wife, his too generous confidence, his too tender love, 
 has been slanderously perverted into the sources of his 
 calamity. Because he could not tyrannize over her 
 whom he adored, he was careless : because he could 
 not suspect hitn in wh.om he trusted, he was careless : 
 and crime, in the infatuation of its cunning, found its 
 justification even in the virtues of its victim ! I am not 
 deterred by the prejudice tlius cruelly excited — I ap- 
 peal from the gossiping credulity of scandal to the 
 grave decisions of fathers and of husbrnds; and I irr.- 
 plore of you, as you value the blessings of your home., 
 not to countenance the calumny which solicits a pre- 
 cedent to excuse their spoliation. At the close of the 
 year 1809,, the death of my client's father gave him 
 the inheritance of an ample fortune. Of all the joys 
 his prosperity created, there was none but yielded to 
 the ecstacy of sharing it with her he loved, the daugh- 
 ter of his fa therms ancient friend, the respectable pro- 
 prietor of Oran Castle. She was then in the very 
 sprhig of life, and never did the sun of heaven unfold 
 a lovelier blossom. Her look was beauty and hes 
 
188 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 breath was fragrance — the eye that saw her caught a 
 lustre from the vision ; and all the virtues seemed to 
 linger round her, like so many spotless spirits enam- 
 oured of her loveliness. 
 
 "Yes, she was good as she was fair, 
 fioue, none on earth above her, 
 As pure in thought as angels are, 
 To see her was to love her." 
 
 What years of tongueless transport might not her 
 happy husband have anticipated ! What one addition 
 'Conld lier beauties gain to render tlieni all perfect ! In 
 the connubial rapture there was only one, and she was 
 blessed witJ) it. A lovely family of infant children 
 gave her the consecrated name of mother, and with it 
 all that heaven can give of interest to this world's 
 worthlessness. Can the mind imagine a more delight- 
 ful vision than that of such a mother, thus young, thus 
 lovely, thus beloved, blessing a Juisband's heart, bask- 
 ing in a world's smile; and while she breathed into 
 her little ones the moral iiglit, showing them that ra-t 
 bed in ail the light of beauty, it v.as still possible for 
 their virtues to cast it into the shade. Year after year 
 of happiness rolled on, and every year but added to. 
 their love a pledge, to make it happier than the former. 
 Without ambition but iier husband's love, without one 
 object but her children's happiness, this lovely woman 
 circled in her orbit, all bright, all beauteous in the 
 prosperous hour, and if that hour ever darkened, only 
 beaming the brighter and tlie lovelier. What human 
 hand could mar so pure a picture ? What punishment 
 could adequately visit its violation ? 
 
 «' O happy love, where love like this is found ! 
 O heartfelt ra])(ure ! bliss beyond compare 1" 
 
 It was indeed the summer of their lives, and with 
 it came the swarm of summer friends, that revel in 
 
BROWNE V. BLAKE. 189 
 
 the sunshine of the hour, and vanish Avith its splen- 
 dour. High and honoured in that crowd — most gay, 
 most cherished, most professing, stood the defendant, 
 Mr. Blake. He was the plaintiff's dearest, fondest 
 friend, to every pleasure called, in every case consult- 
 ed, his day-s companion, and his evening guest, his 
 constant, trusted, bosom confidant, and under guise 
 of all, oh human nature ! he was his fellest, deadliest, 
 final enemy ! Here, on the authority of this brief do 
 I arraign him, of having wound himself into my cli- 
 ent's intimacy — of having encouraged that intimacy 
 into friendship, of having counterfeited a sympathy 
 in his joys and in his sorrows ; and when he seemed 
 too pure even for scepticism itself to doubt him, of 
 having under the very sanctity of his roof, per- 
 petrated an adultery the most unprecedented and per- 
 fidious ? If this be true, can the world's wealth defray 
 the penalty of such turpitude ? Mr. Browne, Gentle- 
 men, was ignorant of every agricultural pursuit, and, 
 unfortunately, adopting the advice of liis father-in- 
 law, he cultivated the amusements of the Curragh. I 
 say unfortunately, for his own affairs, and by no means 
 in reference to the pursuit itself. It is not for me to 
 libel an occupation which the highest and noblest, and 
 most illustrious throughout the empire, countenance 
 by their adoption, which fashion and virtue grace by 
 its attendance, and in which, peers and legislators and 
 princes are not ashamed to appear conspicuous. But 
 if the morality that countenances it be doubtful, by 
 what epithet shall we designate that which would 
 make it an apology for the most profligate of offen- 
 ces? Even if Mr. Browne's pursuits were ever so er- 
 roneous, was it for his bosom friend to take advantage 
 ef them to ruin him ? On this subject, it is sufficient 
 for me to remark, that under circumstances of pros- 
 perity or vicissitudes, was their connubial happiness 
 ever even remotely clouded ? In fact, the plaintiff 
 disregarded even the amusements that deprived him 
 Q2 
 
190 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 of her society. He took a house for her in the vicia^ 
 ity of Kildare, furnished it with all that luxury could 
 require, and afforded her the greatest of all luxuries, 
 that of enjoying and enhancing his most prodigal af- 
 fection. From the hour of their marriage, up to the 
 unfortunate discovery, they lived on terms of the ut- 
 most tenderness ; not a word, except one of love ; 
 not an act, except of mutual endearment, passed be- 
 tween them. Now, gentlemen, if this be proved to 
 you, here I take my stand, and I say, under no earthly 
 circumstances can a justification of the adulterer be 
 adduced. No matter with what delinquent sophistry 
 he may blaspheme through its palliation. God ordain- 
 ed, nature cemented, happiness consecrated that ce- 
 lestial union, and it is complicated treason against 
 God and man, and society, to intend its violation. 
 The social compact, through every fibre, trembles at 
 its consequences; not only policy, but law, not only 
 law, but nature, not only nature, but religion depre- 
 cate and denounce it, — parent and offspring, — youth 
 and age — the dead from the tombs — the child from 
 its cradle, creatures scarce alive, and creatures still 
 unborn ; the grandsire shivering on the verge of 
 death ; the infemt quickening in the motlier's womb; 
 all with one assent re-echo God, and execrate adulte- 
 ry ! I say, then, where it is once proved that husband 
 and wife live together in a state of happiness, no con^ 
 tingency on which the sun can shine, can warrant any 
 man in attempting their separation. Did they do so ? 
 That is imperatively your first consideration. I on- 
 ly hope that all the hearts religion has joined togeth- 
 er, may have enjoyed thehappiness they did. Their 
 married state was one continued honey moon 5 and if 
 ever cloud arose to dim it, before love's sigh it fled, 
 and left its orb the brighter. Prosperous and wealthy, 
 fortune had no charms foF Mr. Browne, but as it bless- 
 ed the object of his affections. She made success de- 
 lightful ; she ^ave his wealth its value. The mos^ 
 
BROWNE V, BLAKE. J^l 
 
 splendid equipages — the most costly luxuries, the 
 richest retinue — all that vanity could invent to dazzle 
 — all that affection couid devise to gratify, were her's, 
 and thought too vile for her enjoyment. Great as his 
 fortune was, Iiis love outshone it, and it seems as if 
 fortune was jealous of the performance. Proverbial- 
 ly capricious, she withdrew her smile, and left him 
 shorn almost of every thing except his love, and the 
 fidelity that crowned it. 
 
 The hour of adversity is woman's hour — in the full 
 blaze of furtuiie's rich meridian, her modest beam re^ 
 tires from vulgar notice, but when the clouds of 
 wo collect around us, and shades and darkness d.ra 
 the wanderer's path, that chaste and lovely light 
 shines forth to cheer him, an emblem and an emana- 
 tion of the heavens ! — It was then her love, her val- 
 «e, and her power was visible. No, it is not for ths 
 cheerfulness with wliich she bore the change I prize 
 her — it is not that without a sigh she surrendered all the. 
 baubles of prosperity — but that she pillowed her poor 
 husband's heart, welcomed adversity to make hira 
 happy, held up her little children as the wealth that 
 no adversity could take away ; and when she found 
 his spirit broken and \m soul dejected, with a more 
 than masculine understanding, retrieved, in some de- 
 gree, his desperate fortunes, and saved the little wreck 
 tliat solaced their retirement. What was such a wo- 
 man worth, I ask you? If you can stoop to estimate 
 by dross the worth of such a creature, give me even a 
 notary's calculation, and tell me then what was she 
 worth to him to whom she had consecrated the bloom of" 
 her youth, the charm of her innocence, the splendour 
 of her beauty, the wealth of her tenderness, the pow- 
 er of her genius, the treasure of her fidelity? She, 
 the mother of his children, the pulse of his heart, the 
 joy of his prosperity, the solace of his misfortunes 
 — what was she worth to him ? Fallen as she is, you 
 may still estimate her j you may see her value eveia 
 
192 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 in her ruin. The gem is sullied, the diamond is shiv- 
 ered; but even in its dust you may see the mugi^ifi- 
 cence of its material. Atter this, they retired to 
 Rockville, their seat in the county of Galway, wliere 
 they resided in the most domebtic manner, on the 
 remnant of their once splendid establishment. The 
 butterflies, that m their noon-tide ikntered round them^ 
 vanisiied at the first breath ol" their adversity ; but 
 one early friend still remained luithlul and aiiection- 
 ate, and that was the defendant. Mr. Blake is a 
 young gentleman of about eight and twenty ; of 
 splendid fortune, polished in his manners, interesting 
 in his appearance, with many qualities to attach a 
 friend, and every quality to fascinate a female. Most 
 willingly do 1 pay the tribute which nature claims for 
 him ; most bitterly do I lameiu that he has been so 
 ungrateful to so prodigal a benefactress. The more 
 Mr. Browne's fortunes accumulated, the more disinter- 
 estedly attached did JMr. Blake appear to him. He 
 shared with him his purse, he assisted him with his 
 counsel ; in an affair of honor he placed his life and 
 character in his liands — he introduced his innocent 
 sister, just arrived from an English Nunnery, into the 
 family of hislriend — he encouraged every reciprocity 
 of intercourse between the females ; and, to crown 
 all, that no possible suspicion migiit attach to him, he 
 seldom travelled without his Domestic Chaplain 1 
 Now, if it shall appear that all tliis was only a screen 
 for his adultery — that he took advantage of his iriend's 
 misfortune to seduce the wife of liis bosom — that he 
 affected confidence only to betray it — that lie perfect- 
 ed the wretchedness he pretended to console, and that 
 in the midst of poverty he has left his victim, friend- 
 less, hopeless, companionless ; a husband without a 
 wife, and a father without a child. Gracious God ! is 
 it not enough to turn Mercy herself into an execution- 
 er ? You convict for murder — here is the hand that 
 murdered innocence ! You convict for treason — here 
 
BROWNE v. BLAKE. 193 
 
 is the vilest disloyalty to friendship ! You convict for 
 robbery — here is one who plundered virtue of her 
 dearest pearl, and dissolved it, even in the bowl that 
 hospitality held out to him ! ! They pretend that he is 
 innocent! Oh effrontery the most unblushhig! Oh vilest 
 insult, added to the deadliest injury ! Oh base, detest- 
 able and damnable hypocrisy ! Of the final testimony 
 it is true enough their cunning has deprived us : but, 
 under Providence, I shall pour upon this baseness such 
 a flood of light, that I will defy, not the most honour- 
 al>le man merely, but the most charitable skeptic, to 
 touch the holy Evangelists, and say, by their sanctity, 
 it has not been committed. Attend upon me, now, 
 gentlemen, step by step, and with me rejoice that, no 
 matter how cautious may be the conspiracies of guilt, 
 there is a Power above to confound and to discover 
 them. 
 
 On the 27th of last January, Mary Hines, one of the 
 domestics, received directions from Mrs. Browne, to 
 have breakfast ready very early on the ensuing morn- 
 ing, as the defendant, then on a visit at the house, ex- 
 pressed an inclination to go out to hunt. She wasf 
 accordingl}' brushing down the stairs at a very early 
 hour, when she observed the handle of the door stir, 
 and fearing the noise had disturbed her, she ran hasti* 
 ly down stairs to avoid her displeasure. She remained 
 below about three quarters of an hour, when her mas- 
 ter's bell ringing violently she hastened to answer it. 
 Ke asked her in some alarm where her mistress was. 
 Naturally enough astonished at such a question at such 
 an hour, she said she knew not, but would go down 
 and see whether or not she was in the parlour. Mr. 
 Browne, however, had good reason to be alarmed, for 
 she was so extremely indisposed going to bed at niglit, 
 that an express stood actually prepared to bring med- 
 ical aid from Galway, unless she appeared better. 
 An unusual depression both of mind and body preyed 
 upon Mrs, Browne on the preceding evening. She 
 
194 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 frequently burst into tears, threw her arms around her 
 husband's neck, saying that she was sure another 
 month would separate her for ever from him and her 
 dear children. It was no accidental omen. Too sure- 
 ly the warning of Providence was upon her. When 
 the maid was going down, Mr. Blake appeared at his 
 door totally undressed, and in a tone of much confu- 
 sion desired that his servant should be sent up to him. 
 She went down — as she was ai)out to return from her 
 ineffectual searcli, she heard her master's voice in the 
 most violent indignation, and almost immediately after 
 Mrs. Browne rushed past her into the parlour, and 
 hastily seizing her writing desk, desired her instantly 
 to quit the apartment. Gentlemen, I request yon will 
 bear every syllable of tliis scene in your recollection, 
 but most particularly the anxiety about the writing 
 dak. You will soon lind that there was a cogent rea- 
 son for it. Little was the wonder that Mr. Browne's 
 tone sliould i)e that of violence and indigjiation. He 
 had discovered his wife and friend totally undressed, 
 just as they had escaped from the guilty bed-side, 
 where they stood in all the shame and horror of their 
 situation! lie shouted for her brother, and that mise- 
 rable brother had the agony of witnessing his guilty 
 sister in the bed-ro<;m of her paramour, both almost 
 literally in a state of nudity. Blake ! Blake I exclaim- 
 ed the heart-struck husband, is this the return }^ou have 
 made for my h.ospitality ? — Oh, heavens ! what a re- 
 proach was there ! It was not merely, you have dis>- 
 honoured my bed — it was not merely, you have sacri- 
 ficed my happiness — it was not merely, you have 
 widowed me in my youth, and left me tiie father of an 
 orphan family — it was n<it merely, you have violated 
 a compact to which all the world swore a tacit venera- 
 tion — but you — you have done it, my friend, my guest,, 
 under the very roof ])arbarians reverence, where you 
 enjoyed my table, where you pledged my happiness, 
 where you saw her in all the loveliness of Jier virtue, 
 
BROWNE I'. BLAKE. i^:j 
 
 fjiid at the very hour when our little helpless children 
 were wrapt in that repose of which you have for ever 
 rohbed their miserable parents .' I do confess when I 
 paused iiere in' the perusal of these instructions, the 
 very life blood froze within my veins. What, said I, 
 must I not only reveal this guilt — must I not only ex- 
 pose this perfidy — must I not only brand the infidelity 
 of a wife and a mother, but must !, annrlst the agonies 
 of outraged nature, make the brother the proof of the 
 sister's prostitution ? Thank God, gentlemen, I may 
 not be obliged to torture you a)jd him and myself, by 
 sue h instrumentality. I think the proof is full without 
 it 5 though it must add another pang to the soul of the 
 poor pia-ntiff, because it must render it almost impos- 
 sible that his little infants are not the brood of this 
 adulterous depravity. It wil) be distinctly proved to 
 you by Honoria Brennan, another of the servants, that 
 one night, so i'dv back as the May previous to the last 
 mentioned occurrence, when she was in the act of ar- 
 ranging the beds, she saw Mr. Blalce come up stairs, 
 look cautiously about him, go to 3Ir3= Browne's bed- 
 room door, and tap at'it; that immediately after Mrs. 
 Browne went, with no other covermg than her sliift, 
 to Mr. Blake's bed-chamber, where the guilty parties 
 locked tliemselves up together. Terrified and ast«m- 
 ished, the maid retired to the servants' apartments, 
 and in about a quarter of an hour after, ^he saw Mrs. 
 Browne in the same habiliments return from the bed- 
 room of Biake into her husband's. Gentlcmc!!, it was 
 by one of those accidents which so ofteji accompany 
 and occasion the developement of guilt, that v*e have 
 arrived at tliis evidence. It was very natural that she 
 did not wish to reveal it ; very natural that she 
 did not wish either to expose her mistress, or alTlict 
 her unconscious master with tlio recital; very nat^iral 
 that she did nt)t vvish to be the instrument of so fright- 
 ful a discovery. However, when she found that con- 
 cealment was out of the question, that this action was 
 
196 SPEECH IN THE CASE OP 
 
 actually in progress, and that the guilty delinquent 
 was publicly triumphing in the absence of proof, and 
 through an herd of slanderous dependents, cruelly 
 vilifying the character of his victim, she sent a friend 
 to Mr. Browne, and in his presence, and that of two 
 others, solemnly discovered her melancholy informa- 
 tion. Gentlemen, I do entreat of you to examine this 
 woman, though she is an uneducated peasant, with all 
 severity, because, if she speaks the truth, I think you 
 will agree with me, that so horrible a complication of 
 iniquity never disgraced the annals of a court of justice. 
 He had just risen from the table of his friend — he left 
 his own brother and that friend behind \vm, and even 
 from the very board of his hospitality he proceeded to 
 the defilement of his bed ! Of mere adultery I had 
 heard before. It was bad enuugli — a breach of all law, 
 religion and morality — but — what shall 1 call this? — 
 that seduced iimocence — insulted misfortune — betray- 
 ed Iriendship — violated hospitaity — tore up the very 
 foundations of human nature, and hurled its tragments 
 at the vioji.ted altav, as if to bury religion beneath the 
 ruins of society ! Oh, it is guilt might put a demon to 
 the blush : 
 
 Does our proof rest here ! No ; though the mind 
 must be skeptical that after this could doubt. A guik 
 ty correspoudence was carried on between the parties, 
 and though i!s conients were destroyed by Mrs. Browne 
 on the morning of the discovery, still we shall authen- 
 ticate tiie fact beyond suspicion. You shall hear it 
 from the very messenger they entrusted — you shall 
 hear from him .too, that the wife and the adui|grer 
 both bound him to the utmost secrecy, at onc^i^tab- 
 lisiiing their own collusion and their victim^M'gno- 
 rajice, proving by the very anxiety lor conc^lment, 
 the impossibility of connivance ; so true ijl^that the 
 conviction of guilt will often proceed evfii from the 
 stratagem for its security. ])oes our proof rest here ? 
 No 5 you shall have it from a gentleman of unim- 
 
KROWNE V, BLAKL. 197 
 
 peacliable veracity, that the defendant himself con- 
 fessed the discovery in his bed-room — " I will save 
 him/' said he, "the trouble of proving it; she was in 
 her shift, and I was in my shirt. I know very v*^ell a 
 jury will award damages against me j ask Browne 
 will he agree to compromise it 5 he owes me some 
 money, and I will give him the overplus in horses !'' 
 Can you imagine any thing more abominable ? He 
 seduced from his friend the idol of his soul, and the 
 mother of his children, and when he was writliijig un- 
 der the recent wound, he deliberately offers him 
 brutes in compensation ! I will not depreciate thig 
 cruelty by any comment; yet the very brute he would 
 barter for that unnatural mother, would have lost its 
 life rather than desert its offspring. Now, Gentle- 
 men, what rational mind but must spurn the assevera- 
 tion of innocence after this ! Why the anxiety about 
 the writing desk r Why a clandestine correspondence* 
 with her husband's friend ? Why remain, at tw^o dif- 
 ferent periods, for a quarter of an hour together, in a 
 gentleman's bed-chamber, with no otlier habiliment, 
 at one time, than her bed-dress, at another than her 
 shift. Is this customary with the married females of 
 this country ? Is this to be a precedent for our wives 
 and daughters, sanctioned too by you, their parents 
 and their husbands ? Why did be confess that a ver- 
 dict for damages must go against liim, and make the 
 offer of that unfeeling compromise ? — Was it because 
 he was innocent ? The very offer 'a as a judgment ])y 
 default, a distinct, undeniable corroboration of his 
 guilt. Was it that the female character should not 
 suffer ? Could there be u more trur/inet-tongued proc- 
 lamation of hercrnninality ! Areour witnesses suborn- 
 ed ? Letdiis army of Counsel sift and torturet hem. Can 
 they prove it ? Oh yes, if it be proveable. Let them 
 pri^d'ice her brother — in our hands, a damning proof 
 to ;>e sure ; but tj<en, frightful, afflicting, unnatural — 
 in theirs, the most consolatory and delightful, the vin- 
 R 
 
198 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 dication of calumniated innocence, and that innocence 
 the innocence of a sister. Sucli is the leading outline 
 of our evidence — evidence which you will only wonder 
 is so convincing in a case whose very nature presuppo- 
 ses the most cautious secrecy. The law , indeed, Gen- 
 tlemen, duly estimating the difficulty of final proof in 
 this species of action, has recognized the vahdity of 
 inferential evidence, but on that subject his Lordship 
 must direct 3'ou. 
 
 Do they rely then on the ground of innocency ? If 
 ihey do, I submit to you on the authority of the law, 
 that inferential evidence is quite suflicient ; and on the 
 authority of reason, that in this particular case, the 
 inferential testimony amounts to demonstration. — 
 Amongst the innumerable calumnies alloat, it has 
 been hinted to me indeed, that they may mean to re- 
 ly upon what they denominate the indiscretion of the 
 husband. The inoment they have the hardihood to 
 resort to that, they, of course, abandon all denial 
 of delinquency, and even were it fully proved, it is 
 then wf)rth your most serious consideration, whether 
 5'ou will tolerate such a defence as that. It is in my 
 mind beyond all endurance, that any man should dure 
 to come into a Court of Justice, and on the shadowy 
 pretence of what he may term carelessness, ground 
 the most substantial and irreparable injury. Against 
 the unmanly principle of conjugal severity, in the 
 name of civihzed society I solemnly protest. It is 
 not fitted for the meridian, and I hope, will never 
 amalgamate itself with the manners of this country 
 — It is the most ungenerous and insulting sus])icion, 
 reduced into the most unmanly and despoli(* practice* 
 
 •' Lrt barharou? nations whose inlinman love 
 Is wihi desire, fierce as the snus tiiey feel ; 
 Let Kastei n tyrants, from the !ijihf oi lieaven 
 Seclude their hosorn slaves, nieanlv {iossessed 
 Of a riici'e lifeless violated forn; — ' 
 While those whom love ceineiils in ho!y fai'h 
 
BROWNE V. BLAKE, 199 
 
 And equal transport, free as nature live, 
 Disdaining fear." 
 
 But once es'tablisli the principle of this moral and 
 domestic censorship, and then tell me where is it to 
 begin ; where is it to end? Who shall bound? Wha 
 shall preface it ? By what hitherto imdiscoverable 
 standard shall we regulate the shades between solem- 
 nity ar.d levity ? Will you permit this impudent espion- 
 age upon your households; upon the hallowed privacy 
 of your domestic hours ; and for what purpose ? Why, 
 that the seducer and the adulterer may calculate the 
 security of his cold-blooded libertinism ! — that he 
 may steal like an assassin upon your hours of relaxa- 
 tion, and convert perhaps your confidence into the in- 
 strument of your ruin ! If this be once permitted as 
 a ground of justification, we may bid farewell at once 
 to all the dehghtful intercourse of social life. Spurn- 
 ing as I do at this odious system of organized distrust, 
 suppose the admission made, that my client was care- 
 less, indiscreet, culpable, if they will, in his domestic 
 regulations ; is it therefore to be endured, that every 
 abandoned burglar should seduce his wife, or violate 
 his daughter ? Is it to be endured, that Mr. Blake, of 
 all men, should rely on such an infamous and con- 
 venient extenuation ? He — his friend, his guest, his 
 confidant — he who introduced a spotless sister to this 
 attainted intimacy; shall he say, I associated with j'ou 
 hourly ; I affected your familiarity for many years ; 
 I accompanied my domesticated minister of religion 
 to your family ; I almost naturalized the nearest fe- 
 male relative I had on earth, unsullied and unmarried 
 as she was, within your household : but — you fi)ol — 
 it was only to turn it into a brothel ! IMerciful God ! 
 will you endure him when he tells you thus, that he 
 is on the watch to prowl upon the weakness of human- 
 ity, and audaciously solicits your charter for such lib- 
 ertinism ? 
 
200 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 I have heard it asserted also, tliat they mean to ar- 
 raign the husband as a consjDirator, because in the 
 liour of confidence and misfortune he accepted a prof- 
 fered pecuniary assistance from the man he thought 
 iiis friend. It is true he did do so ; but so, I will say, 
 criminally careful was he of his interests, that he gave 
 him his bond, and made him enter up judgment on 
 that bond, and made him issue an execution on that 
 Judgment, ready to be levied in a day, that in the 
 •>vreck of all, the friend of his bosom should be at least 
 indemnified. It was my impression, indeed, that un- 
 der a lease of this nature, amongst honourable men, 
 so far from any unwarrantable privilege created, there 
 was rather a peculiar delicacy incumbent on the donor. 
 I should have thought so still, but for a frightful ex- 
 pression of one of the counsel on the motion by which 
 they endeavoured not to trust a Dublin jury with this 
 issue. " What,*' exclaimed they, in all the pride of 
 their execrable instructions, '' a poor plaintifi" and a 
 rich defendant ! Is there nothing in that ?'' No, if my 
 client's shape does not belie his species, there is noth- 
 ing in that. I braved the assertion as a calumny on 
 human nature — I call on you, if such an allegation be 
 repeated, to visit it with vindictive and overwhelming 
 damages. I would appeal, not to this civilized assem- 
 bly, but to a horde of' savages, whether it is possible 
 for the most inhuman monster thus to sacrifice to in- 
 famy his character — his wife — his home — his children! 
 In the name of possibility, I deny it; in the name of 
 humanity, I denounce it; in the name of our common 
 country, and our common nature, I implore of the 
 learned counsel not to promulgate such a slander upon 
 j)oth — but I need not do so ; if the zeal of advocacy 
 should induce them to the attempt, memory would ar- 
 ray their happy homes before them — their little child- 
 len would lisp its contradiction — their love — their 
 hearts — their instinctive feelings as fathers and as husr- 
 
BROWNE V, BLAKEr 20 J 
 
 [)ands, would rebel within them, and wither up the 
 liorrid blasphemy upon their lips. 
 
 They will find it difficult to palliate such turpitude 
 — I am sure I find it difficult to aggravate. It is in 
 itself a hyperbole of wickedness. Honour, innocence, 
 religion, friendship — all that is sanctified or lovely or 
 endearing in creation. Even that hallowed, social, 
 shall I not say indigenous virtue — that blessed hospi- 
 tality, which foreign envy could not deny, or foreign 
 robbery despoil — which, when all else had perished, 
 cast a bloom on our desolation, flinging its rich foliage 
 over the national ruin, as if to hide the monument, 
 while it gave a shelter to the mourner — even that 
 withered away before that pestilence ! But what do I 
 say! was virtue merely the victim of this adulterer? 
 Worse, worse — it was his instrument — even on the 
 broken tablet of the decalogue did he whet the dag- 
 ger for his social assassination. — What will you say, 
 when I inform you, that a few months before, he went 
 deliberately to the baptismal font with the waters of 
 life to regenerate the infant that, too well could he 
 avouch it, had been born in sin, and he promised to 
 teach it Christianity ! And he promised to guard it 
 against '• the flesh !*' And lest infinite mercy should 
 overlook the sins of its adulterous father, seeking to 
 make his God his pander, he tried to damn it even 
 with the Sacrament ! ! — See then the horrible atrocity 
 of this case as^it touches the defendant — but how can 
 you count its miseries as attaching to the plaintiff! 
 He has suffered a pang the most agonizing to human 
 sensibility — it has been inflicted by bis friend, and in- 
 flicted beneath his roof — it commences at a period 
 which casts a doubt on the legitimacy of his children, 
 and to crown all, '• upon him a son is born"' even since 
 the separation, upon whom every shilling of his es- 
 tates has entailed by settlement ! What compensa- 
 tion can reprise so unparalleled a sufferer? What sol- 
 itary consolation is there in reserve for h:ii\ ? Is it Icve^ 
 R3 
 
''202 SPEECH IN THE CASE Oil' 
 
 Alas there was one whom he adored with all the 
 Jieart's idolatry, and she deserted him. Is it friend- 
 ship ? There was one of all the world whom he trust- 
 ed, and that one betrayed him. Is it society ? The 
 smile of others' happiness appears but the epitaph of 
 his own. Is it solitude ? Can he be alone while mem- 
 ory striking on the sepulchre of his heart, calls into 
 existence the spectres of the past. Shall he fly for 
 refuge to his ^'^ sacred home l'' Every object there is 
 eloquent of his ruin ! Shall he seek a mournful solace 
 in his children ? Oh, he has no children — there is the 
 little favourite that she nursed, and there — there — 
 even on its guileless features — there is the horrid 
 smile of the adulterer ! ! 
 
 Oh Gentlemen, am I this day only the Counsel of 
 my client ! no — no — I am the advocate of humanity 
 — of yourselves — your homes — your wives — your 
 families — your little children ; I am glad that this 
 case exhibits such atrocity, unmarked as it is by any 
 mitigatory feature. It may stop the frightful advance 
 of this calamity ; it will be met now and marked with 
 vengeance ; if it be not, farewell to the virtues of your 
 country ; farewell to all confidence between man and 
 man ; farewell to that unsuspicious and reciprocal 
 tenderness without which marriage is but a consecra- 
 ted curse ; if oaths are to be violated ; laws disregard- 
 ed; iriendship betrayed; humanity trampled; na- 
 tional and individual honour stained ; and that a jury 
 of fathers and of husbands will give such miscreancy a 
 passport to their homes and wives and daughters; 
 farewell to all that yet remains of Ireland ! But I will 
 not cast such a doubt upon the character of my coun- 
 tr\^ Against the sneer of the foe, and the scepticism 
 of the foreigner, I will still point to the domestic vir- 
 tues, that no perfidy could barter, and no bribery can 
 purchase ; that with a Roman usage,at once embellish 
 and consecrate households, giving to the society of 
 •lie hearth all the purity of the altar : that lingering 
 
BROWNE V, BLAKE. 203 
 
 alike in the palace and the cottage, are still to be 
 found scattered over this land, the relic of what she 
 was ; the source perhaps of what she may be ; the 
 lone, and stately, and magnijficent memorials, that 
 rearing their majesty amid surrounding ruins,serve at 
 once as the land-marks of the departed glory, and the 
 models by which the future may be erected. 
 
 Preserve those virtues with a vestal fidelity ; mark 
 this day, by your verdict, your horror at their profa- 
 nation, and believe me, when the hand which records 
 that verdict shall be dust, and the tongue that asks it, 
 traceless in the grave, many a happy home will bless 
 its consequences, and many a mother teach her little 
 child to hate the impious treason of adultery. 
 
 •^- 
 
i 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS^ 
 
 IN THE 
 
 CASE OF FITZGERALD v, KERR. 
 
 Mil Lord, and you, Gentlemen of the Jury, 
 
 You have already heard the nature of this actioia, 
 and upon me devolves the serious duty of stating the 
 circumstances in which it has originated. Well in- 
 deed may I call it a serious duty, whether as it affects 
 the individuals concerned, or the community at large. 
 It is not merely the cause of my client, but that of so- 
 ciety, which you are about to try ; it is your own 
 question, and that of your dearest interests; it is to 
 decide whether there is any moral obligation to be 
 respected, any religious ordinance to be observed, any 
 social communion to be cherished ; it is, whether all 
 the sympathies of our nature, and all the charities of 
 our life, are to be but the condition of a capricious 
 compact which a demoralized banditti may dissolve, 
 just as it suits their pleasure or their appetite. Gen- 
 tlemen, it has been the lot of my limited experience, 
 to have known something of the few cases which have 
 been grasped by our enemies as the pretext far our 
 depreciation, and I can safely say, that there was 
 scarcely one which, when compared with this, did not 
 
206 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 sink into insignificance. They had all some redeem- 
 ing quality about them — some casual and momentary 
 acquaintance — some taint of conjugal infidelity — 
 »ome suspicion ol conjugal connivance — some unpre- 
 meditated lapse ofsc.me youthful impulse, if not to 
 justify /at least to apologize,or to palliate. But, in the 
 case befijre you, the friendship is not sudden, but he- 
 reditary ; the sufferer is altogether spotless ; the con- 
 Rivance is an unsuspecting hosp-tal'ty ; and so far 
 from having youth to mitigate, the criminal is on the 
 very verge of existence, forcing a reluctant nature in- 
 to lust, by the mere dint of artificial stimulants, and 
 struggling to elicit a joyless flame from not even the 
 embers, but the ashes of expiring sensuality. One 
 eircun)stance — one solitary circumstance can I find 
 for consolation, and that is, that no hireling defamer 
 can make this the source of accusation against our 
 country: an Irishman indeed has been the victim, 
 and this land has been the scene of the pollution, but 
 here we stop : its perpetrators, thank Heaven, are of 
 distant lineage: the wind of Ireland has not rocked 
 their hifancy : they have imported their crimes as an 
 experiment en our people, — meant perhaps to try 
 how fi\Y vice may outrun civilization — how far our ca- 
 lumniators may have the attestation of Irish fathers, 
 and of Irish husbands, to the national depravity : you 
 will tell them they are fatally mistaken ; you will tell 
 a world incredulous to our merits, that the parents of 
 Ireland love their little children ; that her matron's 
 smile is the clieerfulness of innocence; that her doors 
 are open to every guest but infamy ; and that even 
 in that fatal hour, when the clouds collected, and the 
 tempest broke on us, chastity outspread her spotless 
 wings^ and gave the household virtues a })rotection. 
 When I name to you my unhappy client, I name a 
 gentleman upon whom, here at least, J need pass no 
 culogium. To me, Mr. Fitzgerald is only known by 
 iiis rai^fortunes ; to you, his birth, his boyhood, und 
 
FITZGERALD V* KERR. 2Q7 
 
 vip to man's estate, his residence, have made himlong 
 familiar. 
 
 *' This is his own, bis native land.' 
 
 And here, when I assert him warm and honourable 
 — spirited and gentle — a man, a gentleman, and a 
 Christian, if I am wrong, I can be instantly confuted ; 
 but if I am right, you will give me the benefit of his 
 virtues — he will be heard in this his trial hour with a 
 commiserating sympathy by that morality whose 
 cause he is the advocate, and of whose enemy he is 
 the victim. A younger brother, the ample estates of 
 his family devolved not upon him, and he was obliged 
 to look for competence to the labours of a profession. 
 Unhappily for him he chose the army — I say unhap- 
 pily, because, inspiring him with a soldier's chivalry, 
 it created a too generous credulity in the soldier's hon- 
 our. In the year 1811, he was quartered with his re- 
 giment in the Island of Jersey, and there he met Miss 
 Breedone,the si^ter-iu-law of a brother officer, a Maj. 
 Mitchell of tli^ artillery, and married her. She was 
 of the age of fifteen — he cf four-and-twenty : never 
 was there an union of more disinterested attachment. 
 She had no fortune, and he very little, independent of 
 his profession. Gladly, gentlemen, could I pause here 
 — gladly would I turn from what Mrs. Fitzgerald is., 
 to what she then was : but I will not throw a mourn- 
 ful interest around lier, for well I know, that in des- 
 pite of all her errors, there is one amongst us who, in 
 his sorrow's solitude, for many a future year of mise- 
 ry, will turn to that darling though delusive vision., 
 till his tears shut out the universe. He told me in- 
 deed that she was lovely ; l)ut the light that gave the 
 gem its brilliancy has vanished. — Genuine loveliness 
 consists in virtue — all else is fleering and perfidious : 
 it is as the orient dawn that ushers in the tempest — it 
 is as the green and flowery turf. ]>eneath w hich the 
 
208 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 earthquake slumbers. In a few months my dient im- 
 troduced her to his family, and here beneath the roof 
 of his sister, Mrs. Kirwin, for some years ihey lived 
 most happily. You shall hear, as well from the in- 
 mates as from the habitual visitors, that there never 
 was a fonder, a more doting husband, and that the af- 
 fection appeared to be reciprocal. Four infant babes, 
 the wretched orphans of their living parents — doubly 
 orphaned by a father's sorrows and a mother's shame 
 — looked up to them for protection. Poor little inno- 
 cent unheeding children, alas ! they dream not that a 
 world's scorn shall be their sad inheritance, and mise- 
 ry their handmaid from the cradle. As their family 
 increased, a separate establishment was considered 
 necessary, and to a most romantic little cottage on 
 the estate of his brother, and the gift of his friendship, 
 Mr. Fitzgerald finally removed his household. 
 
 Here, gentlemen, in this sequestered residence,blest 
 with the woman whom he loved, the children he ador- 
 ed, with a sister's society, a brother's counsel, and a 
 character that turned acquaintance into friendship,he 
 enjoyed delights of which humanity, I fear, is not al- 
 lowed a permanence. The human mind, perhaps, 
 cannot imagine a lot of purer or more perfect happi- 
 ness. It was a scene on which ambition in its laurel- 
 ed hour might look with envy ; compared with which 
 the vulgar glories of the world are vanity ; a spot of 
 such serene and hallowed solitude,that the heart must 
 have been stormy and the spirit turbid, which its 
 charmed silence did not soothe into contentment. 
 Yet, even tliere, lielFs emissary entered; yet even 
 hence the present god was banished ; its streams 
 were poisoned, and its paths laid desolate : and its 
 blossoms, blooming with celestial life, were withered 
 into garlands for the tempter ! How shall I describe 
 the hero of this triumph ? Is there a language that has 
 wji'ds of fire to parch whate'er they light on ? Is 
 there a phrase so potently ealamitous that its kind- 
 
FITZGERALD V» KERR. 209 
 
 ntas freezes and its blessings curse? But no; if you 
 must see him, go to my poor client, upon whose 
 breaking heart he crouches like a dcenion ; go to his 
 dead lather's sepulchre — the troubled spirit of that 
 early friend will shriek his maledictory description ; 
 go to the orphan infant's cradle, without a mother's 
 foot to rock, or a sire's arm to shield it — its wordless 
 cries will pierce you with his character; or, hear 
 irom me the poor and impotent narration of his prac- 
 tices — hear hov/ as a friend he murdered confidence- 
 how as a guest he violated hospitality — liow as a 
 *roldier he embraced pollution — how as a man he 
 rushed to the perpetration, not merely of a lawless, 
 but an unnatural enjoyment, over every human bliss, 
 and holy sacrament, and then say whether it is in 
 mortal tongue to epitomize those practices into a char- 
 acteristic epithet ! He is, you know, gentlemen, an 
 officer of dragoons, and about twenty years ago was 
 in that capacity quartered in this county. His own 
 tnanners, miposing beyond description, and the habit- 
 ual hospitality of Ireland to the military, rendered 
 his society universally solicited. He was in every 
 liouse, and welcomed every where : nor was there 
 any board more bountifully spread for him, or any 
 courtesy more warmly extended, than that which he 
 received from the family at Oakiands. Old Mr. Fitz- 
 gerald was then master of its hereditary mansion, his 
 eldest son just verging upon manhood, mid my client 
 but a school boy. The acquaintance gradually grew 
 into intimacy, the intimacy ripened into friendship, 
 and the day that saw the regiment depait, was to his 
 generous host a day of grief and tribulation. Year 
 after year of separation followed. Captain Kerr es- 
 caped the vicissitudes of climate and the fate of war- 
 fare ; and when, after a ti?dious interval, the chances 
 of service sentliim back to Mayo, he found that trnie 
 had not been indolent. His ancient friend was 
 j.n e, better world, his old acquaintance in his fath- 
 
210 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 ers place, and the school-boy Charles, an husband and 
 a parent in the little cottage of which you have heard 
 already. A family affliction had estranged Colonel 
 Fitzgerald from his paternal residence — it was by 
 mere chance, while attending the assizes' duty, he re- 
 cognized in one of the officers of the garrison the 
 friend with whom his infancy had been familiar. 
 You may easily guess the gratification he experien- 
 ced — a gratification mingled with no other regret 
 than that it was so soon to vanish. He was about to 
 dissipate by foreign travel the melancholy which 
 preyed on him, and could not receive his friend with 
 personal hospitality. Surprised and delighted, how- 
 ever, he gave him in a luckless hour a letter of courte- 
 sy to my client, requesting from him and his brother- 
 in-law, 3Ir. Kirwan, every attention in their power to 
 ]3estow. And now, gentlemen, before I introduce 
 him to the scene of his criminality, you shall have 
 even the faint unfinished sketch which has been given 
 me of his character. Captain Kerr of the Royals is 
 very near sixty ; he is a native of Scotland; he has 
 been all his life a military ofiicer ; in other words, to 
 the advantage of experience and the polish of travel, 
 lie adds what Lord Bacon calls that ^' left-handed 
 wisdom," with which the thrifty genius of the Tweed 
 has been said to fortify her children. Never, I am 
 told, did there emigrate even from Scotland, a man 
 of more ability, or of more cunning — one whose ad- 
 dress was more capable of inspiring confidence, or 
 whose arts were better calculated to lull suspicion : 
 years have given him the caution of age, without ex- 
 tinguishing the sensibilities of yout)^ ; nature made 
 liim romantic, navity made him frugal, and half a 
 century has now matured him into a perfect model of 
 thrifty sentiment and amorous senility ! I shall not 
 depict the darker shades with which to me this por- 
 traiture has been deformed ; if they are true, may 
 God forgive him : his own heart can alone supply the 
 
FITZGERALD V. KERR. 211 
 
 pencil witli a tint black enough to do them justice. 
 His first visit to Oaklands was in company with a 
 Major Brown, and he at once assumed the a^r »f one 
 rather renewing than commencing an acquaintance : 
 the themes of otiier days were started — the happy 
 scenes in which a parent's image mingled were all 
 spread out before a filial eye, and when, too soon, 
 their visitor departed, he left not behind him the mem- 
 ory of a stranger. He was as one whose death has 
 been untruly rumoured — a long lost and recovered 
 intimate, dear for his own deserts, and dearer for the 
 memory with which he was associated. 
 
 Gentlemen, I have the strongest reasons for believ- 
 ing that even at this instant the embryo of his base- 
 ness was engendering, — that even then, when his bu- 
 ried friend stood as it were untombed before him in 
 the person of his offspring, the poisonseed was sow% 
 within the shade of whose calamitous maturity nothing 
 of humanity could prosper. I cannot toil through the 
 romantic cant witli which the hypocrite beguiled this 
 credulous and unconscious family, but the concluding 
 sentence of his visit is too remarkable to be omitted. 
 '' It is," said he, awaking out of a reverie of admira- 
 tion, " it is all a paradise : there (pointing to my cli- 
 ent), there is Adam — she (his future victim), she is 
 Eve — and that (turning to Major Brown), that is the 
 devil !" Perhaps he might have been more felicitous 
 in the last exemplification. This of course seemed 
 but a jest, and raised the laugh that was intended. 
 But it was ^•' poison in jest," it was an " lago prelude," 
 of which inferior crime could not fancy the conclu- 
 sion. Remember it, and you will find that, jocular 
 as it was, it had its meaning — that it was not, as it 
 purported, the jocularity of innocence, but of that 
 murderous and savage nature that prompts the In- 
 dian to his odious gambol round the captive he has 
 destined to the sacrifice. The intimacy thus com- 
 menced. waS; on the part of the defendant; su'ictly 
 
212 SPEECH IN THE CASE Oi' 
 
 cultivated. His visits were frequent — liis attention? 
 indefatigable — his apparent interest beyond doubt, 
 beyond description. You may have heard, my Lord, 
 that there is a class of persrons who often create their 
 consequence in a family by contriving to become mas- 
 ter of its secrets. An adept in this art, beyond all 
 rivalry, was Captain Kerr — not only did he discover 
 all that hud reality, but he fabricated whatever ad- 
 vanced his purposes, and the confidence he acquired 
 was beyond all suspicion from the sincerity he assum- 
 ed and the recollections he excited. Who could 
 doubt the man who writhed in agony at every wo, 
 and gave with his tears a crocodile attestation to the 
 veracity of his invention ! I'rom tlie very outset of this 
 inost natural though ill-omened introduction, his only 
 object was discord and disunion, and in the accom- 
 piisliment he was but too successful, liow could he 
 be otherwise ? He seized the tenderest passes of the 
 human heart, and ruled them with a worse than wiz- 
 ard despotism. Mrs. Fitzgerald was young and 
 beautiful — her husband affectionate and devoted — 
 he thirsted for the possession of the one — he deter- 
 mined on his enjoyment, even through the perdition 
 of the other. The scheme by which he eftected this 
 — a scheme of more deliberate atrocity perhaps you 
 never heard ! Parts of it I can relate, but there are 
 crimes remaining, to which even if our law annexed 
 a name, I could not degrade myself into the pollution 
 of alluding. The commencement of his plan was a 
 most ostentatious affection for every branch of the 
 Fitzgerald family. The welfare of my client — his 
 seclusion at Oaklands — the consequent loss of fortune 
 and of fame, were all the subjects of his minute solici- 
 tude ! It was a pity forsooth that such talents and such 
 virtues should defraud the world of their exercise — ^ 
 he would write to General Hope to advance him — he 
 would resign to him his own paymastership — in short 
 ^iiere was ho persona) j no pecuniary aaciiflcQ wliicK 
 
MTZGfERALD V. KERK. 213 
 
 he was not eager to make, out of the prodigahty of 
 his friendship! Tlie young, open, warm-hearted Fitz- 
 gerald, was caught by this hypocrisy — the sun itself 
 was dark and desultory compared with the steady 
 splendour of the modern Fabricius, It followed, gen- 
 tlemen, as a matter of course, that he was allowed an 
 almost unbounded confidence in the family. His 
 friendly intercourse with Mrs. Kirwan — his equally 
 friendly intercourse with Mrs. Fitzgerald, the husband 
 of neither had an idea of misinterpreting. In the 
 mean time the temper of Mrs. Fitzgerald became per- 
 ceptibly embittered — the children, about whom she 
 had ever been alTectionately solicitous, were now neg- 
 lected — the ornamenting of the cottage, a favourite 
 object also, was totally relinquished — nor was this the 
 worst of it. She became estranged from her husband 
 — peevish to Mrs. Kirwan — her manner evincing 
 constant agitation, and her mind visibly m>addened by 
 some powerful though mysterious agency. Of this 
 change, as well he might. Captain Kerr officiously 
 proclaimed himself the discoverer — with mournful 
 affectation he obtruded his interference, volunteering 
 the admonitions he had rendered necessary. You 
 can have no idea of the dexterous duphcity with which 
 he acted. To the unfortunate Mrs. Fitzgerald he 
 held up the allurements with which vice conceals and 
 decorates its deformity — her beauty^ her talents, the 
 triumphs which awaited her in the world of London^ 
 the injustice of concealment in her present solitude, 
 were the alternate topics of his smooth-tongued ini- 
 quity, till at length exciting her vanity, and extin- 
 guishing her reason by " spells and drugs and accur- 
 sed incantations,'' he juggled away her innocence and 
 her virtue ! To the afflicted Mrs, Kinvan he was ail 
 affliction, vveeping over the propensities he affected 
 to discover in his wretched victim, detailing atroci- 
 ^es he had himself created, defaming and de.gi'ading 
 the guilty dupe of his artifices, and counselling ilw? 
 S2 
 
214 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 instant separation which was to afford him at onc& 
 impunity and enjoyment. Trusted by all parties^ 
 he was true to none. Every day maligning Mrs* 
 Fitzgerald to the rest of the family ; when it came to 
 her ears, he cajoled her into the belief that it v/as 
 quite necessary he should appear her enemy, that 
 their secret love might be the less suspected ! Impos- 
 ing on Mrs. Kirwan the fabricated tale of Mrs. Fitz- 
 gerald's infamy, he petrified her virtuous mind be- 
 yond the possibility of explanation ! With Captain 
 Fitzgerald he mourned over his woes, enjoining si- 
 lence while he was studiously augmenting them. To 
 Colonel Fitzgerald he wrote ktters of condolence 
 and commiseration, even while the pen of his guilty 
 correspondence with his sister-in-law was wet ! Do I 
 overstate this treachery ? Attend not to me — listen to 
 his own letters— the most conclusive illustrations of his 
 cruehy and his guilt. Thus, gentlemen, he writes to 
 Col. Fitzgerald, apprising him of the result of his 
 introduction. " I have been much with your family 
 and friends — it is unnecessary for me to say how happy 
 they have made me — I must have been very misera- 
 ble but for their society — I have been received like a 
 brother, and owe gratitude for life to every soul of 
 them. They have taught me of what materials aa 
 Irishman's heart is made — but alas ! I have barely 
 acknowledgment* to offer." Now judge what those 
 acknowledgments were by this extract from his letter 
 to Mrs. Fitzgerald : "Your conduct is so guided by 
 excessive passion, that it is impossible for me to trust 
 you. I think the woman you sent mean« to betray 
 US both;, and nothing on earth can make me think the 
 contrary — but rest assured I shall act with that cau- 
 tion which will make me impenetrable. I would 
 wish to make you really happy, and if you cannot be 
 as respectable as you have been, to approach it as 
 near as poss4ble. I never cease tliinking of you and 
 >'.aux advantage. Trust but to me — obey my advice 
 
FITZGERALD V, KERR. * 215 
 
 and you will gain your wishes : but you shall im- 
 plicitly obey me, or I quit you for ever !" Mark again 
 his language to the Colonel : ^' I must confess the 
 fate of your brother Charles I most dreadfully lament 
 — look to the fate of a man of his age, and so fine a 
 fellow, pinned down in this corner of the world, unno- 
 ticed and unknown. Yet what is the use of every 
 quality, situated as he is — his regrets are his own, 
 they must be cutting — his prospects with so young 
 and inexperienced a family, they dare hardly 
 be looked to, and to these if you add ambition and 
 affections, can you look on without pitying a 
 brother ? This earth indeed would be an Heaven 
 could a good man execute what he proposes — the 
 heart of many a good man dare not bear examina- 
 tion, because his actions and resolutions are so much 
 at variance. Bear with me, Tom — the children of 
 Col. Fitzgerald are my brothers and sistei-s, and may 
 God so judge me as I feel the same kind of affection 
 for them." Contrast that, gentlemen, with the fol- 
 lowing paragraph to the wife of one of those very 
 brothers, the unfortunate Charles, arranging her 
 elopement ! " For the present remain where you are, 
 but pack up all your clothes that you have no present 
 occasion for — you can certainly procure a chest of 
 some kind — if your w^omanis faithful she can manage 
 the business — let her take that chest to Castlebar, and 
 let her send it to me; but let her take care that the 
 carrier has no suspicion from whence it comes — stir 
 not one step without my orders — obey me implicitly, 
 unless you tell me that you care not for me one pin — 
 in that case manage your own affairs in future, and 
 see what comes of you!" Thus, gentlemen, did this 
 Janus-fronted traitor, abusing Mrs. Kirwan by fabri- 
 cated crimes — defaming Mrs. Fitzgerald by previous 
 compact — confiding in all — extorting from all and 
 betraying- all — on the general credulity and the gen- 
 eral deception found the accomplishment of his odious 
 
216 SPEECH IN THE CASE OP 
 
 purposes ! There was but one feature wanted to make 
 his profligacy peculiar as it was infamous. It had the 
 grand master touclies of the dcemon, the outhnes of 
 gigantic towering deformity, perfidyj aduUery, in- 
 gratitude, and irreligion, flung in the frightful energy 
 of their combination : but it wanted something to 
 make it despicable as well as dreadful ; some petty, 
 narrov/. grovelling meanness that would dwarf down 
 the terrific magnitude of its crime, and make men 
 scorn \vhile they shuddered ; and it wants not this. 
 Only think of hini while he was tlu\9 trepanning, be- 
 traying, and destroying, actually endeavouring to 
 wheedle tbe family into the settlement of an annuity on 
 liis intended prostitute. Yoi» shall have it from a 
 witness — you shall have it from his own letter, where 
 he says to Mrs. Fitzgerald, " where is your annuity ? 
 I dare say you will answer me you are perfectly indif- 
 ferent ; but believe me I am not." Oh, no, no, no — 
 the seduction of a mother — the calamity of a husband 
 — the desolation of a household — tiie utter contempt 
 of morals and religion — the cold-blooded assassina- 
 tion of character and of happiness, were as nothing 
 compared to the expenditure of a shilling — he paused 
 not to consider tlie ruin he was inflicting, but the ex- 
 pense he was incurring — a prodigal in crime; a miser 
 in remuneration — he brought together the licentious- 
 ness of youth and the avarice of age, calculating on 
 the inheritance of her plundered infants to defra}^ the 
 harlotry of their prostituted mother ! Did you ever 
 hear of turpitude like this ? Did you ever hear of such 
 brokerage in iniquity ? If there is a single circum- 
 stance to rest upon for consolation, perhaps, however, 
 it is in the exposure of his parsimmiy. He has shown 
 where he can be made to feel, and in the very com- 
 mission of his crime, providentially betrayed the only 
 accessible avenue to his punishment. Gentlemen of 
 the jury, perhaps some of you are wondering why it 
 Is lliat I have so studiously abstained from thecontejn- 
 
FITZGERALD i\ KERR. 217 
 
 plation of my client. It is because I cannot think of 
 him without the most unaffected anguish. It is be- 
 cause, possible as it is for me to describe his suh'erings, 
 it is not possible for you adequately to conceive them. 
 You have home and wife and children dear to you, 
 and cannot fancy the misery of their deprivation. I 
 might as well ask the young mountain peasant, 
 breathing the wild air of health and libert}', to feel 
 the iron of the inquisition's captive — 1 might as well 
 journey to the convent grate, and ask religion's virgin 
 devotee to paint that mother's agony of heart who 
 finds her first-born dead in her embraces ! Their sad- 
 dest vision's Vyould be sorrow's mockery — to be com- 
 prehended, misery must be felt, and he who feels it 
 most can least describe it. What is the world with 
 its vile pomps and vanities now to my poor client ? 
 He sees no world except the idol he has lost — where- 
 e'er he goes^ her image follows him — she fills that 
 I'aze else bent on vacancy — the ^' highest noon" of 
 fortune now would only deepen the shadow that pur- 
 sues him — even " Nature's sweet restorer, balmy 
 sleep,'^ gives him no restoration — she comes upon his 
 dream as when he saw her first in !)eauty's grace and 
 virtue's loveliness — as v,'hen she heard him breathe 
 his timid passion, and blushed the answer that blest 
 him with its return — he sees her kneel — he hears her 
 vow — religion registers what it scarce could chasten, 
 and there, even there, where paradise reveals itself 
 before him, the visionary world vanishes, and wakes 
 him to the hell of his reality. Who can tell the mis- 
 ery of this ? Wlio can ever fancy it that has not felt 
 it ? Who can fancy his sonl-riving endurance while 
 his foul tormentor gradually goaded liim from love 
 into suspicion, and from suspicion into madness ' 
 Alas! 
 
 " What damned minutes tells he o'er 
 
 Who doats yet doubt.s — suspects yet strongly lavep.' 
 
218 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 Fancy, if you can, the accursed process by which 
 his atKection was shaken — his fears aroused ; hisjeal- 
 ousy excited, until at last, mistaking accident for de- 
 sign, and shadows for confirmation, he sunk under the 
 pressure of the human vampyre that crawled from 
 his father's grave to clasp h m into ruin ! Just ima- 
 gine the catalogue of petty frniids by which in his 
 own phrase he made himself'' impenetrable" — how 
 he invented — how he exaggerated — how he pledged 
 his dupe to secrecy, while he bUu i^ened the character 
 of Major Brown, with wliom he daily associated on 
 terms of intimacy — how he libelled the wife to the 
 husband, and the husband to the wife — how he wound 
 himself round the very heart of his victim, with every 
 embrace coiling a deadlier torture, till at last he drove 
 him for refuge in the woods, and almost to suicide, for 
 a remedy. Now gentlemen, let us concede for a mo- 
 ment the veracity of his inventions. Suppose this 
 woman to be even worse than he represented — why 
 should he reveal it to the unconscious husband ? — All 
 was happiness before his interference — all would be 
 happiness still but for his murderous amity — why 
 should he awake him from his dream of happiness — 
 why should he swindle himself into a reluctant confi- 
 dence for the atrocious purpose of creating discord ? 
 What family would be safe if every little exploded 
 calumny was to be revived, and every ibrgotten em- 
 ber to be fanned into conflagration ? Is snch a char- 
 acter to be tolerated in the community? But even 
 this insolent defence is wanting — you will find that 
 self was his first and last and sole consideration — you 
 will find that it was he who soured this woman till 
 she actually refused to live any longer under the roof 
 with her husband and her children — you will find 
 that in the midst of his counsel, his cant, and his sen- 
 sibility, he himself was the profligate adulterer — you 
 will find thai he ruled her with a rod of iron — you 
 will fi«d that having once seduced her into crime, he 
 
FITZGERALD V, KERR. 219 
 
 compelled her to submit to degradation too loathsome 
 for credulity, if it was not too monstrous for inven- 
 tion — you will find that his pretence for enforcing 
 this disgusting ordeal was a doubt of her previous in- 
 nocence, which it alone, he asserted, could eradicate 
 — you will find her on her knees, weeping, almost 
 fainting, ofiering oaths upon oaths to save herself 
 from the pollution — and you will find at last, when 
 exhausted nature could no longer struggle, the foul 
 adulterer actually perpetrating — but no — the genius 
 of our country rises to rebuke me — I hear her say to 
 me — " Forbear — forbear — ^I have sufiered in the 
 field — I have sufiered in the senate — I have seen my 
 hills bedewed with the blood of my children — my di- 
 adem in dust — my throne in ruins — but Nature still 
 reigns upon my plains — the morals of my people are 
 as yet unconquered — forbear — forbear — disclose not 
 crimes of which they are as yet unconscious ; reveal 
 not the knowledge, whose consequence is death/*' I 
 will obey the admonition : not from my lips shall is- 
 sue the odious crimes of this mendicinal adulterer ; 
 not by my hand shall the drapery be withdrawn that 
 screens this Tiberian sensuality from the public exe- 
 cration ! God of Nature ! had this been love, for- 
 getting forms in the pure impetuosity of its passions ; 
 had it been youth, transgressing rigid law and rigid 
 morals ; had it been desire, mad in its guilt and guilty 
 even in its madness, I could have dropped a tear over 
 humanity in silence ; but, when I see age — powerless, 
 passionless, remorseless, avaricious age, dragging its 
 impotence into the capability of crime, and zesting 
 its enjoyment by the contemplation of misery, my 
 voice is not soothed but stifled in its utterance, and I 
 can only pray for you, fathers, husbands, brothers — 
 that the Almighty may avert this omen from your 
 families. 
 
 Gentlemen of the jury, if you feel as I do, you will 
 rejoice with me that this odious case is near to its 
 
220 SPEECH IN THE CAbE OF 
 
 conclusion. You will have the facts before ytou — 
 proof of the friendship — proof of the confidence — 
 proof of the treachery, and eye-witnesses of the ac- 
 tual adultery. It remains but to enquire what is the 
 palliation for this abominable turpitude. Is it love ? 
 Love between the tropic and the pole ! Why, he has 
 a daughter older than his victim ; he has a wife 
 whose c;rave alone should be the altar of his nuptials; 
 he is of an age when a shroud should be his wedding 
 _;;-ar?n(Mit. I will not insult you by so preposterous a 
 supposition. Will he plead connivance in the hus- 
 band — that fond, affectionate, devoted husband ? I 
 dare h'm to the experiment ; and if he makes it — it 
 is not to his intimates, his friends, or even to the un- 
 deviating; testimony of all his enemies, that I shall re- 
 fer you for his vindication : but I will call him into 
 court, and in tlie altered mien, and mouldering form, 
 and furrowed cheek of his decaying youth, I will bid 
 you read the proofs of his connivance. But, gentle- 
 nien, he has not driven me to conjecture his palHa- 
 tion ; his heartless industry has blown it tlnough the 
 land ; and what do you think it is ? Oh, would to God 
 I could call the whole female world to its disclosure ! 
 Oh, if there be within our Island's boundaries one 
 hapless maid who lends her ear to the seducer's poi- 
 son — one hesitating matron whose husband and 
 whose children the vile adulterer devotes to des- 
 olation, let them now hear to what the Hattery of 
 Ivice will turn; let them see when they have level- 
 led the fair fabric of their imiocence and their virtue, 
 with wirat remorseless haste their foul destroyer will 
 rush over their ruins ! Will you believe it ? That he 
 Avho knelt to this forlorn creature, and soothed her van- 
 ity, adored her failings, and deified her faults, now 
 justifies the pollution of her person by the defama- 
 tion of her ch;*racter ! Not a single act of indiscre- 
 tion — not an instance, perhaps of culpable levity m 
 her whole life, wluch he has not raked together for the 
 
FITZGERALD V, KERR. 221 
 
 purpose of publication. Unhappy woman, may 
 Heaven have pity on her ! Alas ! how could she ex- 
 pect that he who sacrificed a friend to his lust, would 
 protect a mistress from his avarice ? But will you 
 permit liim to take shelter under this act of dishonour- 
 able desperation ? Can he expect not even sympathy, 
 but countenance from a tribunal of high-minded hon- 
 ourable gentlemen ? Will not you say, that his thus 
 traducing the poor fallen victim of his ai'tifices, rather 
 aggravates than diminishes the original depravity ? 
 Will you not spurn the monster whose unnatural vice, 
 combining sensuality, hypocrisy, and crime, could 
 stoop to save his miserable dross, by the defamation 
 of his victim ? Will j^ou not ask him by what title he 
 holds this inquisition ? Is it not by that of an adulter- 
 er, a traitor, a recreant to every compact between 
 aaan and man, and between earth and Heaven ! 
 
 If this heartless palliation was open to all the world, 
 is not he excluded from it ? He her friend — her hus- 
 band's friend — her husband's father's friend — her 
 family adviser^ who quaffed the cup of hospitality, 
 and pledged his host in poison — he who, if you can 
 Ijelieve him, found this young and inexperienced 
 creature tottering on the brink, and, under pretence 
 of assistmg, dragged her down the precipice ! Will 
 he, in the whole host of strangers, with whose famil- 
 iarity he defames her, produce one this day vile 
 enough to have followed his example ; one out of 
 even the skipping, dancing, worthless tribe, whose 
 gallantry sunk into ingratitude^ whose levity sublimed 
 itself into guilt? No, no; ^' imperfectly civilized" as 
 his countrymen have called us, they cannot deny that 
 there is something generous in our barbarism ; that 
 we could not embrace a friend while we were plan* 
 ning his destruction; that we could not sit at his ta- 
 ble while we were profaning his bed ; that we could 
 ^lot preach morality while we were ^perpetrating crime; 
 *nd, above all. if in the moment of oiu' nature's weak- 
 T 
 
^22 SPEECH IN TfiE CASE OF 
 
 ness, when reason sleeps and passion triumphs, some 
 confiding creature had reUed upon our honour, we 
 could not dash her from us in her trial hour, and for 
 purse's safety turn the cold-blooded assassin of her 
 character. But, my lord, I ask you not as a father — 
 not as a husband — but as guardian of the morals of 
 this country, ought this to be a justification of any 
 adulterer ? And if so, should it justify an adulterer 
 under such circumstances ? Has any man a right to 
 scrutinize the constitution of every female in a family, 
 that he may calculate on the possibility of her seduc- 
 tion ? Will you instil this principle into society ? Will 
 you instil this principle into the army ? Will you dis- 
 seminate such a principle of palliation ? And will 
 you permit it to palliate — what ? The ruin of an 
 household — the sacrifice of a friend — the worse than 
 murder of four children — the most inhuman perfidy 
 to an host, a companion, a brother in arms? Will 
 you permit it ? I stand not upon her innocence — I de- 
 mand vengeance on his most unnatural villany. — 
 Suppose I concede his whole defence to him, suppose 
 she was begrimmed and black as hell, was it for him 
 to take advantage of her turpitude ? He a friend — a 
 guest — a confidant — a brother soldier! Will you jus- 
 tify him, even in any event, in trampling on the rights 
 of friendship, of hospitality, of professional fraternity, 
 of human nature ? Will you convert the man into 
 the monster ? Will you convert the soldier into the 
 foe, from being the safeguard of the citizen ? Will 
 you so defame tlie military character? Will you not 
 fear the reproaches of departed glory? Will you 
 fling the laurelled flag of England, scorched with the 
 cannon flame, and crimsoned with the soldier's life- 
 blood — the Aug of countless fights, and every fight 
 a victory — will you fling it athwart the couch of his 
 accursed harlotry, without almost expecting that the 
 field sepulchre will heave witli life, and tliedrj^ bones of 
 bnried arrpiesrise rc-ar.imale against the profanation I 
 
FITZGERALD V. KERR. 22J' 
 
 No, no ; I call upon you by the character of that ar^ 
 ray not to contaminate its trophies — I call en you in 
 the cause of nature to vindicate its dignity ; I call on 
 you by your happy homes to protect them from pro- 
 fanation — I call on you by the love you bear your 
 little children, not to let this christian Herod loose 
 amongst the innocents. Oh ! as you venerate the 
 reputation of your country — as you regard the hap- 
 piness of your species — as you hope for the mercy of 
 that all-wise and protecting God who has set his ever- 
 lasting canon against adultery — banish this day by a 
 vindictive verdict the crime and the criminal for ever 
 from amongst us. 
 
 [After a trial which lasted for seventeen hours, the jury fount! 
 a verdict for the plainlilF of fifteen hundred pounds damages, anri 
 M. costs.! 
 
SPEECH 
 
 or 
 
 MR. PHII^LIPS^ 
 
 AT THE SLIGO COUNTY MEETING. 
 
 On Monday the 10th April, there was a large and 
 respectable meeting in the court house, of the gentle- 
 men, clergy, freeholders, and other inhabitants of the 
 county of Sligo, for the purpose of taking into consid- 
 eration an address of condolence to the king on the 
 death of his royal father, and of congratulation to his 
 majesty on his accession to the throne. Wm. Parke^ 
 Esq. high sheriff in the chair. 
 
 Owen Wayne Esq. moved an address. 
 
 Major O'Hara seconded the motion. 
 
 Charles Fhillips Esq. then rose and spoke to the 
 following effect : 
 
 I am happy, Sir, in having an opportunity of giving* 
 my concurrence both in the sentiment and principle 
 of the proposed address. I think it should meet the 
 most perfect unanimity. The departed monarch de- 
 serves, and justly, every tribute which posterity can 
 pay him. He was one of the most popular that ever 
 swayed the sceptre of these countries. He never for- 
 got his early declaration that he gloried in the name 
 of Briton, and Britain now reciprocates the sentiment; 
 and glories in the pride of his nativity. He sras, in- 
 deed, a true born Englishman — brave, generous^ be- 
 T2 
 
22& SPEECH 
 
 uevolent and manly — in the exercise of his s-k^j ami 
 the exercise of his virtues so perfectly consistent that 
 it is difficult to say whether as a man or sovereign he 
 is most to be regretted. He commenced t'ov the Cath- 
 ohc a conciliatory system — he preserved for the Pro- 
 testant the inviolability of the constitution — he gave 
 to both a great example m ^he toleration of his prin- 
 ciples, and the integrity of his practice^. The histori- 
 an will dwell with delight upon those tapics. He will 
 have little ta censure and much to comn>end. He 
 will speak of arts^ raaiiufactures,. literature encoura- 
 ged — he will Unger long among those private virtues 
 which wreathed themsekes around his public station. 
 — which id&utified his domestic with his magisterial 
 <?haracter,and made the father of his family, the father 
 of his people. He will not fail to remark how ample,, 
 and at the same time,, how discriminating was his pat- 
 ronage, and he will truly say, that i-f the pencil of 
 West, directed to tjje sacred volume by his bounty — 
 if tiio old age of Johnson, cheered and consoled by 
 iiis roya! liberality, were to stand alone, they would 
 •undeniably attest the purity of his taste and the piety 
 of his morals. Attributes, sacl^ as these. Sir, come 
 !>ome to the bosom of every man amongst us — they 
 descend from the throne, they mingle with the fire- 
 side, they connnaud more than majesty often can, not 
 only the adnnration but the sympathy of mankind.. 
 Nor may we forget, independent of his most virtuous^ 
 example in private Jifcv the vast public bensfits, which,. 
 as a king, his reign coiaferred upon the country — the 
 liberty #' the pre f;^, gHaranteed,.a&far as reason can- 
 require it, and only restrained so as to pre\ ent its run- 
 ning into licentiousness. — the trial by jury fully defin- 
 ed and firmly csta^jli^fied' — the independence of the 
 Berich Tcauniauiiy conceded, wlrich deprived the ex- 
 eciitive of a^ powerful mui possible instrmTient, and- 
 •ested the riohts and' ^jfopeity- and' privilege of the 
 ^•eople j,a the iiitcgritT of a now. loiassaJlahfe tribunal- 
 
AT SLIGO. 227 
 
 Tfrese are acts vthich we should register in owr Trearts ; 
 they should canonize the memory of the njtjnarch ; 
 they ma<Ie his realm the fand-mark of European lib- 
 erty, they made its constitution the model lor Euro- 
 pean imitation. Let us not ettl>er in our estimate of 
 his charsBCter forget the eomplexiou of the times in 
 whicii he hved ; times of portent and prodigj-^ enough 
 to perplex the comicil of the wisej and daunt the vai- 
 our of the waiTior ; — ins such extremities^ exj:»erience 
 becomes an infant^ and calculation a contingency. 
 From the temffic chaos of the French revohition, a 
 comet rose and hlazed athwart our hemisphere, too 
 splendid not to aUure^ too ominous not to intimidate, 
 too rapid &nd too eccentric for human speculation. 
 The whole continent becarRe absorbed in wonder ; 
 kings and statesmen and- sages fefi down aadworship- 
 pedj and thepoliticaf oi"bs^ which bad hitiiefto circled 
 in harmony and peace, hurried from our system into 
 i[fe train of its couHacrration. There was no order in 
 politics; no consistency in morals^ no steadfastness 
 in religion. 
 
 Vice prevailed and impious n>en bore swnr, 
 
 Upon. ti>e tottering throne th^ hydra of demoerac^ 
 sat grinning ; upon the ruined ahar a "^vretched pros- 
 titute received devotion, and v.avcd in mockejy tiie 
 ^'jiirning cross over the prostrate mummers of the new 
 philosophy! All Europe appeared sjifeE-hound ; nor 
 Mke a vulgai* spell did it perisli in the waters. It 
 crossed the channel. There were i70t wanting m 
 fCngland ahundance of anarchists to denounce the 
 King, and of iuiideis to^ adjure the Deity; turbulenl 
 demagogues who made the abused name of freedom, 
 the pretence for their own factious sehisliRess; athe^ 
 "ists Foeking to foe v^orsliipp^d, i-epublicai^js locking to 
 he cro\rned ; the nobles of" the Imid were jiroscriTseJ 
 1):y antic ipatioD.. aiud- tliei^ property pautitLoued by the 
 
22S SPEECH 
 
 disinterested patriotism of these Agrarian speculators. 
 What do you think it was during that awful crisis 
 which saved England from the hellish Saturnalia which 
 inverted France ? Was it the prophetic inspiration of 
 Mr. Burke? The uncertain adhesion of a standing 
 army ? The precarious principles of our navy at the 
 Nore ? Or the transient resources of a paper curren- 
 cy ? Sir, I believe in my soul this empire owed its sal- 
 vation during that storm to the personal character of 
 of the departed sovereign. When universal warfare 
 was fulminated against monarchy, England naturally 
 turned to its representative at home, and what did she 
 find him ? Frugal, moral, humane, religious, benevo- 
 lent, domestic ; a good father, a good husband, a good 
 man, rendered the crown she gave him still more loy- 
 al, and not only preserving but purifying the trusts she 
 had confided. She looked to his court, and did her 
 morality blush at the splendid debauchery of a Ver- 
 sailles ? Did her faith revolt at the gloomy fanaticism 
 of an Escurial ? Far from it. She saw the dignity 
 which testified her sway tempered by the purity which 
 characterised her worship ; she saw her diadem glow- 
 ing with the gems of empire, but those gems were 
 illumined by a ray from the altar ; she saw that aloft 
 an his triumphal chariot her monarch needed not the 
 raomcnto of the repubhcan ; he never for a moment 
 forgot that " he was a man.'' Sir, it would have been 
 a lot above the condition of humanity, if his meas- 
 ures had not sometimes been impeached by party. 
 But in all the conflicts of public opinion as to their 
 policy, wlio ever heard an aspersion cast upon his mo- 
 tives ? It is very true, had he followed other councils^ 
 events might have been different, but it is also well 
 worth while to notice, would our situation have been 
 improved ? Would Great Britain ret^'olutionized, have 
 given her people purer morals, more upright tribu- 
 nals, more impartial justice, or more "perfect free- 
 dom" than they now pai'ticipate ? Did tlie murder gf 
 
AT SLiao. 22& 
 
 twenty years of military sway, procure for France 
 iier prelates, her nobility, and her king, followed by 
 more popular privileges than those of which we have 
 been in undisturbed possession ? Was the chance of 
 some problematical improvement worth the contin- 
 gencies ? Should we surrender a present practical re- 
 ality for the fantastic scheme of some Utopian theorist? 
 Ought we to confound a creation so regular and so 
 lovely for the visionary paradise that chaos might re- 
 veal to us ? The experiment has been tried, and what 
 has been the consequence ? Look to the continent at 
 this moment. Its unsettled governments ! its pertur- 
 bed spirit ! its pestilential doctrines ! Go to the tomb 
 of Kotzebue ; knock at the cemetery of the Bour- 
 bons ; providentially I have not to refer to your own 
 murdered cabinet ; you will find there how much ea- 
 sier it is to desolate than to create ; how possible it is 
 to ruin ; how almost impracticable to restore. 
 
 Even in a neighbouring county in your own island,, 
 look at the enormous temptation which has been of- 
 fered in vain to its impoverished peasantry to induce 
 them — to what ? Why merely to surrender a murder- 
 ous assassin well known to have been one of a numer- 
 ous association. Do you think such principles are 
 natural to our people ; Do you not think they are the 
 result of system ? Which do you beheve, that such a 
 sickening coincidence both at home and abroad.is mi- 
 raculous or premeditated ? Sir, there is but one solu- 
 tion. You may depend upon it, the gulf is not yet 
 closed whence the dreadful doctrines of treason, and 
 assassination, and infidelity have issued. Men's 
 minds are still feverish and delirious, and whether 
 rhey nickname the fever illumination in Germany, lib- 
 erality in France, radicalism in England, or by some 
 more vulgar and unmeaning epithet at home, they 
 are all children of the same parent; all so many com- 
 mon and convulsive indications of the internal vitali-: 
 tv of the revolutionarv volcano. Sir, I am not now to 
 
230 SPEECH 
 
 learn that those opinions are unpalatable to certain ul- 
 tra patriots of the hour. I declared them before, and 
 I now reiterate them still more emphatically, because 
 they have expressed a very imprudent surprise that 
 such opinions should proceed from me. Sir, if they 
 mean to insinuate that I ever approved the practice or 
 professed the principles of their infamous fraternity, 
 ihey insinuate a base, slanderous, and malignant false- 
 hood. I hold it to be the bounden duty of every 
 honest man who ever pronounced a liberal opinion, to 
 come forward and declare his abhorrence of such 
 doctrines. What! because I am liberal, must I be- 
 come rebellious ? because I am tolerant, must I re- 
 nounce my creed ? They have mistaken me very 
 much. Though I would approve of any rational, 
 practicable reform ; though I would go very far upon the 
 road of liberality, I would not move for either, no, not 
 one single inch,unless loyalty and religion were to bear 
 me company. I know not what they mean by their 
 •^ Radical Reform," unless they mean to uproot the 
 Throne, the Altar, and the State. I do not believe 
 their chimera of annual parliaments and universal 
 suffrage. I prefer a legislature comprising the wealth, 
 the talent and the education of the realm, to a radi- 
 cal directory of shoeless coblers, and shopless apoth- 
 ecaries. I fly for protection to my king, and for con- 
 solation to my God, from the lawless, creedless, mur- 
 derous, blasphemous banditti, who postpone them 
 both to the putrid carcase of an outlawed infidel. 
 Denounce me if you choose. I v,'0Lild sooner die to- 
 morrow beneath the dagger of your hate, than live in 
 the infectious leprosy of your friendship. My fellow- 
 countrymen, it is high time to pause. Our very vir- 
 tues by excess, may become vices. Let us aid the ag- 
 grieved, but let us not abet the assassin; let us toler- 
 ate the sectarian, not countenance the infidel ; let us 
 promulgate, if we can, an universal good, without 
 shaking the basis of our social system, or the blessed 
 
AT SLIGO. 231 
 
 tbundatien of our eternal hope. My own sentiments, 
 as to the most Hmited toleration of all sects of Chris- 
 tians, you are not now, for the first time,to be made ac- 
 qaainted with. I know that many good men, and 
 many much abler men, dissent from me ; and while I 
 give them full credit on the score of sincerity, I only 
 seek the same concession for myself. I would open 
 the gates of constitutional preferment to all my fel- 
 k)w subjects of every religious creed, wide as I ex- 
 pand to them the affections of my own heart. It is in 
 my mind but fair, that he who protects a state should 
 receive a reciprocity of privileges ; that no man should 
 be made familiar with its burthens, and at the same 
 time be told he must remain a stranger to its benefits. 
 This is an humble but conscientious opinion, given 
 freely but not servilely — seeking to make others free, 
 I will not submit to become a slave myself, or compro- 
 mise one particle of self respect. Nay, more. Sir, 
 though I would give, and give voluntarily, every lib- 
 eral enfranchisement, I would not withdraw one prop 
 — I would not deface even one useless ornament on 
 the porch of the constitution ; it has been founded by 
 wisdom, defended by valour, consecrated by years, 
 and cemented by the purest blood of patriotism : at 
 every step beneath its sacred dome, we meet some 
 holy relic, some sublime memorial ; the tombs of the 
 heroes, and sages, and martyrs of our history ! The 
 graves of the Russels and the Sidneys ; the statues 
 of the Hardwicks and the Hales; the sainted relics of 
 departed piety ; the table of the laws to which king 
 and people are alike responsible ; the eternal altar on 
 whose divine commandments all those laws are found- 
 ed; subfrnie, hall!)wed,invaluable treasures! unimpair- 
 ed and imperishable be the temple that protects them ! 
 In the fullness of my heart I say to it, " Esto per- 
 petua,^^ may no political Marius ever rest upon its ru- 
 ins. Sir, in reference to the congraulatory part of 
 your address, I cannot wish the august personage in 
 
ti32 SPEEGil 
 
 whom it refers a more auspicious wish than that he 
 may follow implicitly the footsteps of his father. — 
 These ways are ^' ways of pleasantness," these paths 
 are "paths of peace.'' I hope his reign may be as 
 happy as his regency has been victorious, and that in 
 the plenitude of power he will remember the country 
 forgot not him when that power was very distant. 
 These are not times, however, to be either too exigent 
 or too unreasonable; the atheist meets us in our noon- 
 day walk ; the assassin waits not for the night's conceal- 
 ment ; all ranks, and sects, and parties should unite ; 
 all that is sacred in the eye of every christian, dear to 
 every parent, and valuable to every man, is menaced 
 with annihilation ; every cause of difference, whether 
 real or imaginary, should be now suspended, until the 
 aational shout of" fear God, honour the king," drowns 
 the war-hoop of impiety and treason ; if we are to live, 
 my countrymen, let us live in the security of laws ; if 
 ^e are to die, let us die in the consolations of religion. 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OP 
 
 MR, PHILLIPS, 
 
 IN THE 
 
 CASE OF SHARPE v. VIALLS, 
 
 HO RECOVER DAMAGES FOR A MALICIOUS PROSECUTION 
 
 OF THE PLAINTIFF FOR STEALING BEEF AND 
 
 BREAD, VALUE TWO PENCE : 
 
 DELIVERED IN THE COURT OF KING'S BENCH, 
 LO.XDON. 
 
 -^$$§»^ 
 
 My Lord, and Gentlemen of the Jurif, 
 
 The jury had heard from my learned friend that 
 this action was brought to recover compensation in 
 damages, in consequence of a prosecution maUciously 
 preferred — tliat is, preferred without any probable 
 cause to warrant it, from the absence of which, malice, 
 though not distinctly proveable, was still presumable 
 and inferential. I need not state to you that the grounds 
 ought to be strong indeed to warrant any man in put- 
 ting another on his trial on a charge of felony. The 
 principles of constitutional law are too well known in 
 England to require any statement on the subject. My 
 charge to-day against the defendant is, that he did in- 
 stitute such a prosecution against my client ; not only 
 without any probable grounds to warrant it^ but upon 
 
-34 SrEECH Ii\ THE CASE OF 
 
 grounds the most absurd^ the most cruel, the moat op- 
 pressive, and the most capricious — a proceeding not 
 only repugnant to his character as a clergyman, but 
 detestable in the eyes of every human being. Gen- 
 tlemen, I feel, however, that I have much to combat 
 in advocating the cause of humble poverty against 
 pampered oppression. I have to charge that oppres- 
 sion upon a character w here the virtues aiid the chari- 
 itiesof lifeare presumed to dwell: I have to fear, also, 
 lest the language which I must hold towards the indi- 
 vidual may be misconstrued into any disrespect to his 
 venerated profession. Most assuredly I mean no sucli 
 thing: but when I fmd a man in lofty station struggling 
 to prove that he owes his rank rather to Fortune's 
 blindness than to personal deserving, and when liind 
 liim hiding the world's heart under a religious garment, 
 it is my duty to overcome the pain w Inch the exposure 
 gives me — a duty to the rank such conduct has dis- 
 honoured — a duty to the church, thus more endanger- 
 ed by its ow n professors than by all that infidelity can 
 urge against it. 
 
 I shall proceed to detail to you the facts — hear them 
 if you can with gravity — think of them, I trust you 
 w ill not, w ithout indignation. The plaintiff is a poor 
 man, living by the lalx)ur of his hands. The defend- 
 ant, Mr. Yialls, is a clergyman of the clunchof Eng- 
 land, of ample fortune, and its usual attendant, a large 
 establishment. It happened that in October of the 
 last year, the plaintilf was employed in the garden 
 of Mr. Yialls, as under gardener, and on tiie '2131 of 
 that month, it being Siufday, he dined with his aunt 
 at Camberwell. Tliey had a small round of corned 
 beef for dinner, and upon his departure, his aunt, with 
 much hospitality, pressed him to accept a slice of it. 
 He accepted it, returned home, and placed it in an 
 open tool-box in the garden, the usual depository 
 for the under gardener's dimier. About eleven o'clock 
 tl^e Parson went to take the air in his garden : he 
 
SIIARPE V* VIALL5. 23o 
 
 proceeded with tlie sagacity of an old pointer to tlie 
 tool-house, and made a dead set upon the poor man's 
 beef. He was not contented with the tithe of it, or 
 he might perhaps have pleaded prescription. Bathe 
 swept ii at once entire and wholesale into his breech- 
 es pocket. Out of the Doctor's own lips I shall prove 
 this ludicrous disposal of the beef. The poor man 
 M'as earning an appetite, which it seems even break- 
 fast could not take away A-om the Parson. The Doc- 
 tor proceeded directly to his house — he dived at once 
 into the kitchen : " Follow me," said he, to the aston- 
 ished cook, ^'follow me to the larder, and bring the 
 carving knife v.ith you." The cook followed with 
 tremulous apprehension, the scullion retreated in si- 
 lent consternation. Arrived at the kitchen, he cast a 
 look at a round of beef which had already done 
 duty in the family, cut a measured slice from it with 
 mucti caution, performed tlie like operation upon a 
 loaf of bread, and then stalked away without uttering 
 a syllable. '• Lord bless us/*"' says the cook, '^ how 
 liungry my master is — breakfast just over, he's taking 
 to the luncheon." Not for a lundieon liowever v>.as 
 the beef intended ; all that day and all that night it 
 w^as the Parson's companion, and next morning the 
 cook received a summons to attend his dressing-room 5 
 there, spread out in state, lie shewed her the slice he 
 liad cut off the round, and the beef he had manoeu- 
 verod out of the tool-box — so cut to match, that you 
 could scarcely distinguish between them. ^^ Won't 
 you swear," said the Parson, that tliese two slices are 
 from the same round ?" ^^ It's impossible that I can," 
 said the cook, " beePs beef all the world over." ^' I 
 can," said the Parson ; '- here's a slice that came oft 
 my round, and I'll swear it did, because I found it in 
 the tool-box.'' *•' Your round,'' said the cook, " was 
 safe in the larder ; the door was locked, and the key 
 ^vas in my pocket." There was a reason too whicl-; 
 t'lc Doctor a:^«iiG:n':!d for rlrjimine' the b'^ef. and wliich 
 
£36 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF. 
 
 as it has at least the merit of originality, I shall men- 
 lion. Indeed, he repeated it before a Jury. *^I know 
 the beef to be mine from its complexion !" Gentlemen, 
 perhaps he might. I dare say there was a Lly white- 
 ness about the fat, and a modest, saltpetre, Aurora- 
 like redness about tlie lean, famihar to the eyes of 
 Doctors of Divinity. 
 
 Gentlemen, the next appearance of the cook was 
 before a magistrate, where she distinctly swore to the 
 Mtter impossibihty of any access to the beef without 
 her knowledge, and she solemnly denied that such ac- 
 cess was ever afforded. The cook having failed, the 
 butler was resorted to- The Parson produced to him 
 the slice from the round, and asked him whether it 
 was not his property ? '' No," said the butler ; ^' God 
 bless me,'"* said the Parson, " what a fool you are not 
 ro swear to the beef!" He then produced the slice from 
 the tool-box. " At all events, Joe, you will have no 
 hesitation in swearing that this and the other came 
 from the same round r" " No," replied Joe, " I'd rath' 
 er say they did not, because the one is much drier 
 than the other." The old mathematician, when he 
 solved the problem, and exclaimed eureka, never felt 
 one tenth portion of the Parson's extacy — '' It's the 
 same, Joe, it's the same — it's only drier because I car- 
 ried it in my breeches pocket." 
 
 His next resource, gentlemen, was the plaintiff him- 
 self. The plaintiff was bewailing the robbery of his 
 dinner, little foreseeing he was to be considered a 
 thief; he told at once that he got the beef from his 
 aunt at Camber well, but Parson Vialls was not to be 
 satisfied, nor would he even make inquiry. Day af- 
 ter day tlie man came to his work, and day after day 
 the Parson beset him, tormenting him hourly with 
 the same questions ; at length his patience was quite 
 exhausted, and he said, as I am told, in the presence 
 of the butler, " sir, I told you the name of my aunt^ 
 Xpd where she lived j I'll answer you na more upon 
 
SHARPE l\ VIALLS. 23T 
 
 the subject ; I am ready to prove my innocence be- 
 fore any tribunal in the world.'' In the mean time, 
 gentlemen, the beef was hourly affording to the Par- 
 son another opportunity of lecturing upon tlie muta- 
 bility of human affairs ; in other words, it was getting 
 musty : despatch was necessary. The Parson sent 
 it down with a strict command that some of the ser- 
 vants should dine on it. The butler rejected it as he 
 was to be a witness; the kitchen maid swore she'd not 
 make her stomach a receiver of stolen goods; and 
 the unfortunate cook will tell you that she bolted it 
 lierself in order to prevent a revolution in the scullery,- 
 Will you believe, gentlemen, that upon these 
 grounds, against the speaking evidence of the man's 
 daily return to work, against the oaths of his own ser- 
 vants, against common sense, merely because he had 
 a cold round in his larder — this prop of the Church, 
 who keeps his lordly mansion, his equipage, and his 
 retinue, determined to prosecute this helpless peasant 
 on a charge of robbery ? a charge so laid as to subject 
 Iiim to transportation. Did you ever, gentlemen, 
 hear of such a case as this ? I remember to have heard 
 of one, and but one, which occurred in another coun- 
 Hy, It was not in Ireland, gentlemen, though JMr. 
 Gurney's smiling would seem to say so. It happened 
 in America about fifty years ago. Johnny Hook, 
 gentlemen, was a Highlander. He lived in one of the 
 most economical parts of Scotland, until he arrived at 
 years of discretion, when, of course, he emigrated. — 
 He arrived in America about the period of the revo- 
 lution, having brought with him from Scotland a lit- 
 tle stout bullock, which I dare say he thought an apt 
 emblem of his countrymen. Patriotism is said to be 
 a himgry quality, and unhappily for Johnny Hook, 
 the xVmerican army encamped in the very field where 
 his bullock was grazing. The bullock was soon sac- 
 rificed to the appetites of the invaders of the field, and 
 the setting sun beheld but its last rib in existencer 
 U2 .- 
 
238 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 At the conclusion of the war, Johnny set off from the 
 farm, and brought his action against tlie American 
 Coram !ssary General for the price of his bullock. 
 The defence was conducted by the inspired peasant, 
 Patrick Henry — a name immortal in America, and 
 which should never die wherever talent and genius 
 are held in estimation. He touched the chords of the 
 jurors' hearts, and when he had pictured before them 
 the perils and privations which the American army 
 had undergone, the achievmems and victories they 
 had obtained, he exclaimed with a feeiing which soon 
 became contagious, "But who is this man who dis- 
 turbs a nation's devotion, and at the very moment 
 when they are with uphfted arms returning thanks to 
 ihe God of battles, exclaims, beef, beef, beef!" 
 
 In America the name of Johnny Hook will never 
 die 5 Genius has touched it and made it immortal: but 
 what was Johnny Hook when contrasted with Parson 
 V^ialls? — as a candle to tlie sun. From the moment 
 that the Parson glanced his keen, worldly, tithe-dis- 
 cerning eye into the poor man's box, his very imagin- 
 ation appears to have become bossilied. Throughout 
 all creation he could see nothing but beef! This round- 
 ed world, with all its ricli varieties, was in his mind 
 nothing but — a round of beef ! his roses and his lilies 
 became transformed to bullocks ! not a text could he 
 >hink of except the flesh-pols of Egypt ! Beef became 
 to him what ale was to Boniface, his diet and his dream, 
 his garment and his pillow — in short, whether the 
 Parson was eating or thinking, dreaming or preaching, 
 it was all the same — he saw nothing, said nothing, 
 tiiought of nothing, but beef, beef, beef! The disease, 
 innocent at first, became at last malignant — it excited 
 all his sympathies, and he vowed by his holy hatred 
 of persecution, by his love of Christian charity and 
 forbearance, by his abhorrence of all sinful appetites 
 in the poor, by his reprobation of all luxury out of the 
 pale of tlie church, that he'd grind the devoted beef- 
 
^HARPE V, VIALLS. 239 
 
 eater to the dust ! If he relented but for a moment, 
 the mutilated round swam across his memory, and with 
 it came the train of its perfections. Oh, it was a round 
 tit for a Rector's appetite — a round the very Corpora- 
 tion might have envied — a round to bid defiance to 
 the whole Common Council after a fast-day — 
 
 The round whs a picture for painters to study, 
 The fat was so white, and t!ie ieau was so ruddy. 
 
 And then his Roman indignation burst into soliloquy — • 
 ■^'I'll make an example of the miscreant — Fll make it 
 a city business — I'll have the monster tried at Hicks' 
 Hall — I'll retain a Judge to prosecute him — the Dep- 
 uty Recorder shall prosecute him — I'll go further, the 
 Court of Aldermen shall be on the bench, and he shan't 
 have even a chance, for I'll have him indicted five 
 minutes before dinner — the rascal shall become a per- 
 fect Pythagorean, and lake a distaste to the whole an- 
 imal creation — even in Botany Bay he wo'nt have the 
 hardihood to look a bullock in the face." 
 
 So far this may appeeir a jest, and as such so far you 
 see I have not been unwilling to treat it. But what 
 wiil you say when I tell you that he actually put it 
 into practice ? What will you say when I tell ycu that 
 he took three whole days to deliberate, and then, 
 though the poor man returned to his garden to his 
 daily work as usual, actually had him arrested on a 
 charge of felop.y ! Yes, when the poor peasant, with 
 all the boldness natural to innocence, day alter day 
 presented himself before him — v>hen he was bending 
 in toil over the sluggish soil of its more insensible pro- 
 prietor, he had him arrested on a charge of robJjery ! 
 And who did this ? a man of wealth — a man of God I 
 — the very "Dives" of the Bible, '• faring sumptuous- 
 ly every day," and grudging to poverty even the 
 crumbs from his table ! Who was the magistrate be- 
 fore whom he brought him ? A sergeant-at-law — his 
 
240 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 own father-in-law ! — the son-in-law accused, and the 
 father-in-law committed him ; and, indeed; they were 
 right not to let the glory of the achievement go out of 
 the family. Imagine, gentlemen, you behold the 
 spectacle — the Parson swearing to the complexion of 
 the pennyworth — the butler endeavouring to coax him 
 into reason — the cook maintaining the inviolability of 
 the larder — the serjeant threatening to bundle her out 
 of the office, until at last, amid the Babel of the contest, 
 and tlie alternate ascendency of *^ Beef!" " Church !" 
 •• Newgate !"' and "Botany Bay !" he was confined to 
 five hours imprisonment by these twin ornaments of 
 law and divinity. 
 
 At length his friends heard of his situation — he 
 was tlien necessarily admitted to bail, and bound over 
 to "meet his charitable " Pastor and Master'^ at the 
 Sessions. Let us pause here, Gentlemen, and reflect 
 on the situniion of my client during the interval. 
 Turned out of his service on a charge of robbery — 
 that robbery the robbery of his own master — unable 
 to procure employment under the doubt — obliged to 
 expend the last shilling of his little savings, amount- 
 ing to twenty pounds, in preparations for his defence 
 — with many weehs before liis innocence could be 
 vindicated, avul v/ith the certainty that even in case 
 of an acquittal the fact of his having been tried 
 would cling to him for ever — weigh these sufferings 
 of a poor man and an innocent man, and then say 
 what a rich man and a guilty man should pay for 
 their infiictior.. The interval, however might have 
 had its value — it might have awakened in the prose- 
 cutor some compunctions of humanity — did it so ? 
 no — for four vvceks did he brood over the serpent egg 
 of his malignity ; for four weeks night after night, 
 did he lay his head upon his pillow, after praying to 
 the Almiglity (if such men ever pray) to be forgiven 
 on the terms of his own forgiveness ! I will suppose 
 for a moment the worst against my client ! I '-yvill suppose 
 
^HARPE l\ VIALL3> 241 
 
 that tills charge might have been true, and that the 
 poor man, goaded by hunger, and tempted by oppor- 
 tunity, had taken the rich man's beef, ^^ value one 
 penny" — ought he not, as a Minister of the Gospel, 
 to have forgotten and forgiven it — ought he not, as a 
 man, to have thanked the Power that placed him 
 above temptation, and dropped a tear for the unfor- 
 tunate ! But when it was fialse, false on the very face 
 of it — adopted upon grounds which even a drivelling 
 idiot would have discountenanced, and stubbornly 
 persevered in against the combined oaths of ever)' one 
 consulted, in what terms shall we express our dis^ 
 gust and indignation ? 
 
 At length the long expected Sessions came — at 
 ten, to a moment, the Parson was in attendance — day 
 after day he missed not a minute — and at least for half 
 their period, upon the steps of the prison-house, was 
 this sleek emblem of orthodoxy to be seen elbowing 
 the thieves and convicts as they passed, and piously 
 preparing to add an innocent man to the"r number. 
 He was saved all trouble in procuring his attendance — - 
 he surrendered himself at once, not attended merely by 
 his bail, but by the indignant crowds who had known 
 him from his infancy, and who now pressed forward 
 to attest the industrious honesty of his life. The 
 cause was called on^ and without compunction did 
 this Reverend Clergyman, upon no other grounds 
 except those I have stated, depose to a charge of fel- 
 ony against my client ! His wealth — his rank — his 
 sacred station — all were thrown into the scale against 
 the poor man. What mattered it that he had risen 
 to industry with the morning sun, and that its bright- 
 est noon could not reveal a speck upon his character ! 
 What mattered it that he had smoothed the sorrows 
 of a parent's age ! — There stood a Minister of the 
 Gospel — a man whose functions placed him above 
 suspicion — there he stood, with the very book in his 
 hand from which he should preach the forgiveness of 
 
242 srEEGH IN THE CASE OF 
 
 injuries, burning on my client the brand of an iiu- 
 gTateful felony ! Awful to the poor man was that 
 moment; his country, his liberty, his character, (the 
 poor man's only wealth) at hazard, the little world in 
 which he lived — all were the witnesses of his shame 
 .find degrjidation. If he were convicted, the utmost 
 penalty of the law must have fallen upon him, and 
 fallen justly, because to the civil crime a breach of 
 trust was added ; even on an acquittal pains and penal- 
 ties must have followed — the expenses he w as put to ! 
 a fearful issue ! but what did it signify to this follower 
 of the Apostles. The poor man might have rotted 
 in a dungeon : but he had a splendid palace in which 
 to riot. The poor man might have tossed upon liis bed 
 of straw ; but he had his silken canopy and his bed of 
 down. The poor man might have traversed the re- 
 turnless ocean; but he had the luxuries of life around 
 liim — the hoarded coffer and the groaning board to 
 some souls, the poet tells, afford ample compensation 
 for the scorn of mankind. 
 
 Gentlemen, do I use strong language? I am not 
 ashamed to do so in this rascally transaction. I mean 
 not to use measured language. Though when I meet 
 a minister of the Gospel with the patent of his elec- 
 tion stamped upon his life — humane amid the hom- 
 age which bis merit gains him — poor like the dying 
 .I'^nelon from his charities — pious, not in his preach- 
 ing, but in his acts — a link, as it were, between the 
 earth which he instructs, and the heaven, to which he 
 leads, teaching the happiness of tlie one, and typify- 
 ing the i>urity of the other — though I can admire 
 such men even in my inmost heart, yet I will not ex- 
 tend my reverence to that vermin sanctity wliicli bur- 
 rows its way under the foundations of tlie temple, and 
 eats the bread of the shriiie it has endangered. Gen- 
 tlemen, I need scarcely tell you the result of the pro- 
 secution. The p) osecutor swore, as might have been 
 f'W'fHt f^r] , tr) xhf^ jdentitvof tbebcp^— totheidentitvol' 
 
SHAia'E I'. VIALLS. ^43 
 
 dt€ bread — and after establishing his full claim to the 
 pennyworth, he called up his household to corrobo- 
 i-ate him. One of them has been turned out of his 
 sei'vice since, the other has a second opportunity to- 
 day. What they swore then, I take it for granted 
 they will swear now ; and if they do, 1 defy any man 
 of conscience to say that this man had probable 
 grounds for his prosecution, recollecting as you will 
 that all was communicated to him before the Sessions, 
 na} , before the aiTcst. What was the result ? the 
 Jury rose indignantly, interposing between the accus- 
 ed and the mortiiication of a defence — he was at once 
 acquitted. 
 
 Parson Vialls departed happy, I would have sup- 
 posed, in the escape of innocence, if he had since of- 
 fered the slightest compensation — if he had even ten- 
 dered the expenses to which his caprice had put ray 
 client ; but he has not done so ; he chooses again to 
 come before the public, again to meet, I trust, the 
 merited rebuke of an honuorable jury. The only 
 point in which such a man can be made to feel is his 
 purse, and I hope it will at last be opened to the 
 claims of the poor. The trial over, my client and his 
 prosecutor both departed, the one to his lordly man- 
 sion, the other to his home of desolation — the one ex- 
 claiming, popuhis me sibulai ; the other ruminating 
 on all the woes to which poverty is subject, and the 
 wickedness which may thri\ e even under a consecra- 
 ted garment. 
 
 The day of retribution, however, is at last arrived .; 
 and at your honest hands I confidently claim it. .1 
 claim it, not merely for expenses incurred — for im- 
 prisonment endured — for character involved — for op- 
 pression exercised — but I claim it in addition, for the 
 agony of mind which the plaintiff must have sutlered 
 when he saw himself attainted before the world as a 
 felon. But if I w anted an aggravation in this case, do 
 I not fmd it in the station of the defendant — in that 
 
244 SPEECH. 
 
 education which should have amehorated his heart- 
 in that weahh, of which, as a clergyman, he was but 
 the almoner of heaven — in that sacred office which 
 should have pressed on him the assumption of benev- 
 olence? What would the world say, and naturally 
 say, when they saw such a prosecutor ? Would they 
 not say, tliat glaring indeed must have been the guilt 
 which forced him to depose to it. Would they be- 
 lieve that it was assumed upon the grounds too ridic- 
 ulous for credulity — grasped at, at first, with a dis- 
 graceful promptitude, and afterwards pursued with as 
 disgraceful a perseverance, got up by a kind of family 
 arrangement — dragged before the public against all 
 evidence — against the daily return of the accused to 
 work — against the impossibility of access — against 
 the dissimilarity of the article — against the unanim- 
 ous testimony of every witness who was examined. 
 Gentlemen of the Jury, I shall leave this case to you ; 
 if you think that innocence should be accused — char- 
 acter involved — expense accumulated — imprisonment 
 endured, and felony imputed upon grounds like these 
 — dismiss my client: but if you hold probity in re- 
 spect, though clothed in rags ; and oppression in hor- 
 ror, though it be robed in lawn — 1 call on you to say 
 so by your conscientious verdict. 
 
 [The Jury instantly returned a verdict for the plaintiff— Dam- 
 ©ges Fifty founds.] 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS, 
 
 DELIVERED AT 
 
 THE ANNUAL MEETING OF THE BRITISH 
 
 AND FOREIGN AUXILIARY BIBLE 
 
 SOCIETY, LONDON. 
 
 Although I have not had the honour either of pro- 
 posing or seconding any of your resolutions, still, as a 
 native of that country so pointedly aUuded to in your 
 report, I hope I may be indulged in a few observa- 
 tions. The crisis in which we are placed is, I liope, 
 a sufficient apology in itself for any intrusion; but I 
 find such apology is rendered more than unnecessary 
 by the courtesy of this reception. Indeed, my Lord, 
 when we see omens which are every day arising — when 
 we see blasphemy openly avowed — when we see the 
 Scriptures audaciously ridiculed — when in this Chris- 
 tian monarchy tlie den of the republican anil the deist 
 yawns for the unwary in your most public thorough- 
 fares — when marts are ostentatiously opened, where 
 the moral poison may be purchased, whose subtle ve- 
 nom enter-; the very soul — when infidelity has become 
 an article of commerce, and man's perdition may be 
 cheapened at the stall of every pedlar — -no friend of 
 society should cont'nue silent — it is no longer a ques- 
 tion of politicul privilege — of sectarian controversy — 
 X 
 
-4ti SPEECH 
 
 of theological discussion ; — it is become a question 
 whether Christianity itself shall stand, or whether we 
 shall let go the firm anchor of our faith, and di'ift with- 
 out chart, or helm, or compass, into the shoreless ocean 
 of impiety and blood ! I despise as much as any man 
 the whine of bigotry : I will go as far as any man for 
 rational liberty ; but I will not depose my God to deify 
 the infidel, or tear in pieces the charter of the state, 
 and grope for a constitution among the murky pigeon- 
 holes of every creedless, lawless, infuriated regicide. 
 When I saw the ether day, my Lord, the chief bac- 
 chanal of their orgies — the man with whom the Apos- 
 tles were cheats, and the Prophets liars, and Jesus an 
 impostor, on his memorable trial, withering hour after 
 hour with the most horrid blasphemies; surrounded 
 by the votaries of every sect, and the heads of every 
 faith — the Christian Archbishop, the Jewish Rabbi, 
 the men most eminent for their piety and their learn- 
 ing, whom h« had purposely collected to hear his infi- 
 del ridicule of all they reverenced — when 1 saw him 
 raise the Holy Cible in one hand, and the Age ol' Rea- 
 son in the other, as it were confronting the Almighty 
 v/ith a rebel worm, till the pious Judge grew pale, and 
 the patient jia-y interposed, and the self-convicted 
 wretch liimseii', after having raved away all his original 
 impiety, was reduced into a mere machine for the re- 
 production of the ribald blasphemy of others — I could 
 not help exclaiming, *■'• Infatuated man ! If all your 
 impracticable madness could be realized, what would 
 you give us in exchange ibr our establishment ? What 
 would you substitute for that just tribunal ? for whom 
 would you displace that independent Judge and that 
 impartial jury ? Would you really burn the Gospel 
 and erase the statutes, for the dreadful equivalent of 
 the criiciiix and the guillotine r"' Indeed, if I was ask- 
 ed for a practical panegyric on our constitution, I 
 would adduce the very trial of that criminal; and if 
 fhe leg;a] annals of any country nnon eaitli furnished 
 
AT LOXDOIi. 247 
 
 all instance, not merely of such justice, but of such 
 patience and forbearance, such ahnost culpable indul- 
 gence, I would concede to him the triumph. I hopC;, 
 too, in what I say, I shall not be considered as forsa- 
 king that illustrious example : I liope I am above an 
 insult on any man in his situation : perhaps, had I the 
 power, I would follow the example farther than I ought 
 — perhaps I would even humble him into an evidence 
 of the very spirit he spurned — and as our creed was 
 reviled m his person and vindicated in his conviction^ 
 so I would give it its noblest triumph in his sen- 
 tence, and merely consign him to the punishment of 
 its ?}iercy. 
 
 But, indeed, my Lord, the fate of this half infidel, 
 half trading martyr, matters very little in comparison 
 of that of the thousands he has corrupted. He has 
 literally disseminated a moral plague, against which 
 even the nation's quarantine can scarce avail us. It 
 has poisoned the fresh blood of infancy ; it has disheart- 
 ened the last hope of age. If his own account of its 
 circulation be correct, hundreds of thousands must be 
 this instant tainted with the infectious venom, whose 
 sting dies not with the destruction of the body. Ima- 
 gine not because the pestilence smites not at once that 
 its fatality is less certain. Imagine not because the 
 lower orders are the earliest victims, that the most 
 elevated will not suffer in their turn ; the most mortal 
 chillness begins at the extremities; and you may de- 
 pend upon it, nothing but time and apathy are wanting 
 to change this healthful land into a charnel-house, 
 wliere murder, anarchy and prostitution, and the whole 
 hell-brood of infidelity, will quaff tlie heart's blood of 
 the consecrated and the noble. My Lord, I am the 
 more indignant at these designs, because they are 
 sought to be concealed in the disguise of liberty. It 
 is the duty of every real friend to liberty to tear tho 
 mask from tiu Qeod wh^^ has usurpc^d it. No, no, this 
 is notour Island Goddess, bearing: the mountain fresh- 
 
,246 STEECa 
 
 ness on her cheeks, and scattenng the valley's bounty 
 from her hand, known by the Hghts that herald her 
 fair presence, the peaceful virtues that attend her path, 
 and the long blaze of glory that lingers in her train — 
 it is a demon, speaking fair indeed — tempting our 
 faith with airy hopes and visionary realms, l)ut even 
 within the foldings of its mantle, hiding the bloody 
 symbol of its purpose. Hear not its sophistry; guard 
 your cliiid against it; draw round your homes, the con- 
 secrated circle which it dare not enter. You will find 
 zm amulet in the religion of your country : it is the 
 great mound raised by the Almigiity for the protection 
 of humanity : it stands between you and the lava of 
 lumian passions ; and oh, beheve me, if you wait tame- 
 ly by, while it is basely undermined, the fiery deluge 
 will roll on, before which all that you hold dear, or 
 venerable, or sacred, will wither into ashes. Believe 
 no one who tells you that the friends of freedom are 
 now, or ever were, the enemies of religion. They 
 kjiow too well that rebellion against God cannot prove 
 the basis of government for man, and that the loftie&t 
 structure impiety can raise i? l>ut the Babel monu- 
 ment of its impotence, and its pride, mocking the 
 builders with a moment's strength and then covering 
 them with inevitable confusion. Do you want an ex- 
 ample ? — only look to f'rance. The microscopic vis- 
 ion of your rabble blasphemers has not sight enough 
 to contemplate the mighty minds whicli commenced 
 her revolution. The wit — the sage — the orator — the 
 hero — the whole family of genius furnished forth their 
 treasures, and gave them nobly to the nation's exi- 
 gence; they had great provocation — they had a glo- 
 rious cause — they had all that human potency could 
 give them. But they relied to*) much upon this human 
 potency — they abjured their God, and, as a natural 
 consequence, they murdered their king — they culled 
 their polluted deities from the brothel, and the fall of 
 '^be idol extinguished the flarae of the altar. — They 
 
AT LONDON* 249 
 
 crowded the scaflfold with all their country held of 
 genius or of virtue, and when the peerage and the 
 prelacy were exhausted, the mob-executioner of to- 
 day became the mob-victim of to-morrow. No sex 
 was spared — no age respected — no suffering pitied— 
 and all this they did in the sacred name of liberty, 
 though in the deluge of human blood, they left not a 
 mountain top for the ark of liberty to rest on. But 
 Providence was neither " dead nor sleeping.^' It mat- 
 tered not that for a moment their impiety seemed to 
 prosper — that victory panted aftei* their ensanguined 
 banners — that as their insatiate eagle soared against 
 the sun, he seemed but to replume his wing and to 
 renew his vision — it was only for a moment, and you 
 see at last that in the very banquet of their triumph, 
 the Almighty's vengeance blazed upon the wall, and 
 their diadem fell from the brow of the idolater. 
 
 My Lord, I will not abjure the altar, the throne^, 
 and the constitution for the bloody tinsel of this revo- 
 lutionary pantomine. I prefer my God, to the impi- 
 ous democracy of their pantheon — I will not desert 
 my king for the political equality of their pandemo- 
 nium. 1 must see some better authority than the Fleet- 
 street temple, before I forego the principles which 1 
 imbibed in my youth, and to which I look fonvard as 
 the consolation of my age; those all-protecting prin- 
 ciples which at once guard, and consecrate, and sweet- 
 en the social intercourse — which give life, happinesSj, 
 and death, hope ; which constitute man's purity, hi? 
 best protection, placing the infant's cradle and the fe- 
 male's couch beneath the sacred shelter of the nation- 
 al morality. Neither Mr. Paine or Mr. Palmer, nor 
 all the venom-breathing brood, shall swindle from me 
 the book where I have learned these precepts — la 
 despite of all their scoff, and scorn, and menacing, I 
 say, of the sacred volume they would obliterate, it i? 
 a book of facts, as well authenticated as. any heatheij 
 liistory — a book of miracles, incoatestiblv avouclied'--' 
 ' X2^ 
 
'250 SPEECH 
 
 a book of prophecy, confirmed by past as vv^eli as pres- 
 ent fulfilment — a book of poetry, pure and natural, 
 and elevated even to inspiration — a book of morals^ 
 such as human wisdom never fram€d for the perfec- 
 tion of human happiness. JNIy Lord, I -will abide by 
 the precepts, admire the beauty, revere the mysteries, 
 and, as far as in me lies, practise the mandates of this 
 sacred volume ; and should the ridicule of earth, and 
 the blasphemy of hell assail me, I shall console myself 
 by the contemplation of those blessed spirits, who, in 
 the same holy cause, have toiled, and shone, and suf- 
 fered. In the " goodly fellowship of the Saints" — in 
 ihe " noble army of the Martyi^'' — in the society of 
 the great, and good, and wise of every nation ; if my 
 •sinfulness be not cleansed, and my darkness illumin- 
 ated, at least my pretensionless submission may be 
 <?xcuscd. If I err with the lumiiiaiies I have chosen 
 for my guides, I confess myself captivated by the 
 loveliness of their aberrations. If they err, it is in an 
 heavenly region — if they wander, it is in fields of 
 light — if they aspire, it is at all events a glorious dar- 
 ing ; and rather than sink with infidelity into the dust, 
 I am content to cheat myself with their vision of eter- 
 nity. It may indeed be nothing but delusion, but 
 then I err with the disciples of philosophy and of vir- 
 tue — with men who have drank deep at the fountain 
 of human knowledge, but who diss^)lved not the pearl 
 of their salvation in the draught. I err with Bacon, 
 the great Bacon, the great confidant of nature, fraught 
 with all the learning of the past, and almost prescient 
 of the future; yet too wise not to know his weakness, 
 and too philosophic not to feel his ignorance. I err 
 with Milton, rising on an angeFs wing to heaven, and 
 like the bird of morn, soaring odt of light, amid the 
 music of his grateful piety. I err with Locke, whose 
 pure philosophy only taught him to adore its source, 
 whose warm love of genuine liberty was never chilled 
 in-to rebellion with Its author, I err with Newton » 
 
whose star-like spirit, shooting athwart the darkness 
 of the sphere, too soon to re-ascend to the home of 
 his nativity. With men Hke these, my Lord, I shall 
 remain in error, nor shall I desert those errors even 
 for the drunken death-bed of a Paine, or the delirious 
 war-whoop of the surviving fiends, who would erect 
 his altar on the ruins of society. In my opinion it is 
 difficult to say, whether their tenets are more ludi- 
 crous, or more detestable. They will not obey the 
 King or the Prince, or the Parliament, or the Consti- 
 tution, but they will obey anarchy. They will not 
 believe in the Prophets — in Moses — in the Apostles — 
 in Christ — but they believe Tom Paine ! With no go- 
 vernment but confusion, and no creed but scepticism, 
 I believe, in my soul, they would abjure the one if it 
 became legitimate, and rebel against the other if it 
 was once established. Holding, my Lord, opinions 
 such as these, I should consider myself culpable, if, at 
 such a crisis, I did not declare them. A lover of my 
 country, I yet draw a line bctv/een patriotism and re- 
 bellion. A warm friend to liberty of conscience, I 
 will not confound toleration with infidelity. With all 
 its ambiguity, I shall die in the doctrines of the Chris- 
 tian faith ; and with all its errors, I am contented to 
 live under the glorious safeguai'ds of th.e British Cou- 
 stitution. 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OP 
 
 MR, PHILLIPS, 
 
 DBUVERED AT CHEfEKSHAM, (ENGLAND,) ON XnE 7th OCT. 131^. 
 
 AT THE FOURTH ANNIVERSARY 
 OP THE 
 
 GLOUCESTER MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 
 
 Mi\ Chairman, 
 
 After the eloquence with which so many gen- 
 tlemen have gratified and delighted this most respect- 
 able assembly, and after the almost inspired address of 
 one of them, I feel almost ashamed of having acceded 
 to the wishes of the committee by proposing the res- 
 olution which I have the honour to submit. I should 
 apologize, sir, for even the few moments intrusion 
 which I mean to make upon this meeting, did I not 
 feel that I had no right to consider myself as quite a 
 stranger ; did I not feel that the subject unites us all 
 into one great social family, and gives to the merest 
 sojourner the claim of a brother and a friend. At a 
 time like this, perhaps, when the infidel is abroad, 
 and the atheist and disbeliever triumph in their blas- 
 phemy, it beli'n-es the humblest Christian to range 
 himself beneath the banners of his faith, and attest, 
 even by his martyrdom, the sincerity of his allegi- 
 
254 gPEEGH AT 
 
 ance. When I consider the source from whence 
 Christianity sprung — the humility of its origin — the 
 poverty of its disciples — the miracles of its creation — 
 the mighty sway it has acquired, not only over the 
 civilized world, but which your missions are hourly 
 extending over lawless, mindless, and imbruted re- 
 gions — I own the awful presence of the Godhead — 
 nothing less than a Divinity could have done it ! The 
 powers, the prejudices, the superstition of the earth, 
 were all in arms against it; it had nor sword nor scep- 
 ire — its founder was in rags — its apostles were lowly 
 iishermen — its inspired prophets, lowly and uneduca- 
 ted — its cradle was a manger — its home a dungeon — 
 its earthly diadem a crown of thorns ! And yet, forth 
 it went — that lowly, humble, persecuted spirit — and 
 the idols of the heathen fell ; and the thrones of the 
 mighty trembled ; and paganism saw her peasants 
 and her princes kneel down and worship the unarmed 
 Conqueror ! If this be not the work of the Divinity, 
 then I yield to the reptile ambition of the atheist. I 
 see no God above — I see no government below ; and 
 I yield my consciousness of an immortal soul to his 
 boasted fraternity with the worm that perishes ! But, 
 sir, even when I thus concede to him the divine origin 
 of our christian faith, I arrest him upon worldly prin- 
 ciples — 1 desire him to produce, from all the wisdom 
 of the earth, so pure a system of practical morality — 
 a code of ethics more sublime in its conception — more 
 simple in its means — more happy and more powerful 
 in its operation : and, if he cannot do so, I then say 
 to him. Oh ! in the name of your own darling policy, 
 filch not its guide from youth, its shield from man- 
 hood, and its crutch from age ! Though the light I 
 follow may lead me astray, still I think it is light from 
 Heaven ! The good, and great, and wise, are my 
 eojnpanions — my delightful hope is harmless, if not 
 holy ; and wake me not to a disappointment, which 
 'in yoirr tomb of atunhUaiion. I shall not taste hereaf- 
 
CHELl-ENHAM. ^25b 
 
 tei' ! To propagate the sacred creed — to teach the 
 ignorant — to enrich the poor — to illumine this world 
 with the splendours of the next — to make men hap- 
 py, you have never seen — and to redeem millions 
 you can never know — you have sent your hallowed 
 niissionaries forward ; and never did an holier vision 
 rise, than that of this celestial, glorious embassy. — 
 I^Iethinks I see the band oi'ioilling exiles bidding fare- 
 well, perhaps forever, to their native country ; — fore- 
 going home, and friends, and luxury — to tempt the 
 savage sea, or men more savage than the raging ele- 
 ment — to dare the polar tempest, and the tropic fire, 
 and often doomed by the forfeit of their lives to give 
 their precepts a proof and an expiation. It is quite 
 delightful to read over their reports, and see the bless- 
 ed product of their labors. They leave no clime un- 
 visited, no peril unencountered. In the South Sea 
 Islands they found the population almost eradicated 
 by the murders of idolatry. " It was God Almighty," 
 says the royal convert of Otaheite, ^^ who sent your 
 fission to the remainder of mj people P^ 1 do not 
 wish to shock your christian ears v»'ith the cruelties 
 from which you have redeemed these islands. Will 
 you believe it, that they had been educated in such 
 cannibal ferocity, as to excavate the earth, and form 
 an oven of burning stones, into which they literally 
 threw their living infants, and gorged their inferiiai 
 appetites with the flesh ! Will you believe it, that 
 they thought murder grateful to tlie God of Mercy .' 
 and the blood of his creatures as their best iibatioa ! 
 In nine of these i-slands those abominations are ex- 
 tinct — infanticide is abolished — their prisoners are 
 exchanged — society is now cemented by the bond of 
 br.nheriiuod, and the accursed shrines that streamed 
 with hujnan gore, and blazed with human unction, 
 iiow echo the songs of peace and the sweet strains of 
 piety. In India, too, where Providence, for some 
 .special purpose, permits these little insular specks id 
 
156 SPEECH AT 
 
 hold above one hundred milhons ia subjection — phe- 
 nomena scarcely to be paralleled in history — the spell 
 of Brahma is dissolving — the chains of Caste are lial- 
 iing off — the wheels of Juggernaut are scarce ensan- 
 guined — the horrid custom of sell-immolation is daily 
 disappearing — and the sacred stream of Jordan min- 
 gles with the Ganges. Even the rude soldier, 'mid 
 the din of arms, and the license of the camp, " makes 
 (says our missionary) the Bible the inmate of his 
 knapsack, and the companion of his pillow."' Sucli 
 lias beiiii. the success of your missions in that 
 country, that one of your own judges has publicly 
 avowed, that those who lelt India some years ago 
 ty^n form no just idea of what now exists there. — 
 Turn Irom these lands to that of Africa, a name I now 
 can mention witliout horror. In sixteen of theirtowns 
 and many of their Islands,we see the sun of Christianity 
 arishig, and as it rises the whole spectral trainof super- 
 stition vanishing in air. Agriculture and civilization 
 are busy in the desert, ajid the poor Hottentot kneel- 
 ing at tlie altar, implores his God to remember not the 
 slave trade. If any thing, sir, could add to the satis* 
 faction that I feel, it isthe consciousness that knowledge 
 and Christianity are advancing, hand in hand, and that 
 wherever I see your missionaries journeying, I see 
 scliools rising up, as it were, the landmark of their 
 progress. And who can tell what the consequences 
 of tliis may be in after ages ? Who can tell whether 
 ihose remote regions may not, hereafter, become the 
 rivals of European improvement? Who shall place 
 n ban upon the intellect derived from the Almighty ? 
 Who shail say that the future poet shall not fascinate 
 the wilds, and that the philosopher and the statesman 
 shall not repose together beneath the shadow of their 
 palm trees ? This may be visionary, but surely, in a 
 mf>ral point of view, the advantages of education are 
 not visionary. \A long and continued hurst of ap- 
 plause fGliOiced this passage, and prevented the repor- 
 
CHELTENHAM. 257 
 
 ierfcom detailing some most excellent remarks on the 
 advantages of the cultivation of the human mind.'] 
 These, sir — the propagation of the Gospel — the ad- 
 \'ancement of science and industry — the perfection of 
 the arts — the diffusion of knowledge — the happiness 
 of mankind here and hereafter — these are the bless- 
 ed objects of your missionaries, and, compared with 
 these, all human ambition sinks into the dust : the 
 ensanguined chariot of the conqueror pauses — the 
 sceptre falls from the imperial grasp — the blossom 
 wither's even in the patriot's garland. But deeds like 
 tliese require no panegyric — in the words of tliat dear 
 friend (Curran,j whose name can never die — " They 
 are recorded in the heart from whence they sprung, 
 and in the hour of adverse vicissitude, ii ever it should 
 arrive, sweet will be the odour of their memory, and 
 precious the bahn of their consolation.'' 
 
 Before I sit down, sir, I must take the liberty of say- 
 ing that the principal objection which I have heard 
 raised against your institution is with me the princi- 
 pal motive of my admiration — I allude, sir, to the dif- 
 fusive principles on which it is founded. I have seen 
 too much, sir, of sectarian higotr'j — as a man, I ab- 
 lior it — as a christian, I blush at it — it is not only de- 
 grading to the religion that employs even the shadow 
 of intolerance, but it is an impious despotism in the 
 government tliat countenances it. These are my 
 opinions, and I will not suppress them. Our religion 
 lias its various denominations, but they are struggling 
 to the same mansion, though by dilTerent avenues, and 
 when I meet them on their way — I care not whether 
 they be Protestant or Presbyterian, Dissenter or Cath- 
 olic, I know them as christians, and I will embrace 
 them as iny brethren. I hail, then, the foundation of 
 such a society as this — I hail it, in many respects, a? 
 an happy omen — I hail it as an augury of that cominf^ 
 day when the bright bow of Christianity, commencine 
 i& the Heavens and encompassing thp PiTrth, sljnll in 
 
 y 
 
158 SPEECH AT 
 
 elude the children of every clime and colour beneatii 
 the arch of its promise and the glory of its protection. 
 Sir, I thank this meeting for the more than courtesy 
 with which it has received me, and I feel gi-eat plea- 
 sure i« proposing this resolution for their adoption. 
 
LETTER 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. PHILLIPS 
 
 TO THE KING. 
 
 :3IRE, 
 
 When I presume to address you on the subject 
 which afflicts and agitates the country, I do so with 
 the most profound sentiments of respect and loyalty. 
 But I am no flatterer. I wish well to your illustrious 
 house, and therefore address you in the tone of sim- 
 ple truth — the interests of the King and Queen are 
 identified, and her majesty's advocate must beyour's. 
 The degradation of any branch of your family, must, 
 in some degree, compromise the dignity of all, and be 
 assured there is as much danger as discredit in famil- 
 iarizing the public eye to such a spectacle. I have 
 no doubt that the present exhibition is not your royal 
 wish : I have no doubt it is the work of wily syco- 
 phants and slanderers, who have persuaded you of 
 what they know to be false, in the base hope that it 
 may turn out to be profitable. With the view,ther?,of 
 warning you against interested hypocrisy, and of giv- 
 ing to yoor heart its natural humane and noble incli- 
 nation, I invoke your attention to tlie situation of 
 your persecuted consort! I implore of you to consid- 
 er whether it would not be for the safety of the state, 
 for the tramjuility of the country, for the honour of your 
 house, and for the interests alike of royalty and ha- 
 
2d0 LETTER 
 
 inanity, that an helpless female should be permitted t(> 
 pass hi peace the few remahiing years which unmeri- 
 ted misery has spared to her. 
 
 It is now, Sire, about five-and-twenty years since her 
 majesty landed on the shores of England — a princess 
 by birth — a queen by marriage — the relative of kings 
 — and the daughter and the sister of a hero. She 
 was then young — direct from the indulgence of a pa- 
 ternal court — the blessing of her aged parents, of 
 whom she was the hope and stay — and happiness 
 shone biightly o'er her ; her life had been all sun- 
 shine — time for her had only trod on flowers ; and if 
 ihc visions which endear, and decorate, and hallow 
 home, were vanished for ever, still did she resign them 
 for the sacred name of wife, and sworn affection of a 
 royal husband, and the allegiance of a glorious and 
 gallant people. She was no more to see her noble fa- 
 ther's hand unhelm the warrior's brow to fondle over 
 his child — no more for her a mother's tongue delight- 
 ed as it taught ; that ear which never heard a strain, 
 that eye which neVer opened on a scene, but those of 
 careless, crimeless, cloudless infancy, was now about 
 to change its dulcet tones and fairy visions for the ac- 
 cent and the country of the stranger. But she had 
 heard the character of Britons — she knew that chiv- 
 alry and courage co-existed — she knew that where 
 the brave man and the free man dwelt, the very name 
 of woman bore a charmed sway, and where the voice 
 of England echoed your royal pledge, to " love and 
 worship, and cleave to her alone," she but looked up- 
 on your Sire's example, and your nation's annals, and 
 was satisfied. — Pause and contemplate her enviable 
 station at the hour of these unhappy nuptials ! The 
 created world could scarcely exhibit a more interest- 
 ing spectacle. There was no earthly bliss of which 
 she was not either in the possession or the expectancy. 
 Royal alike by birth and alliance — honoured as the 
 choice of England's heir, reputed the most accota- 
 
TO THE KING.- i>6l 
 
 plished gentleman in Europe — licr reputation spot- 
 less as tlie unfallen snow — liei* approach heralded by a 
 people's prayer, and her footsteps obliterated by an ob* 
 sequious nobihty — her youth, like the lovely season 
 which it typified, one crowded garland of rich and fra- 
 grant blossoms, refreshing every eye with present 
 beauty, and filling every heart with promised benefits ! 
 No wonder that she feared no famine in that spring 
 tide of her happiness — no wonder that her speech was 
 rapture, and her step was buoyancy ! She was the 
 darling of parents' hearts ; a kingdom was her dower 
 — iier very glance, like the sun of heaven, diffused 
 light, and warmth, and luxury around it — in her pub- 
 lic hour, fortune concentrated all its rays upon her^ 
 and when she shrunk from its too radiant noon, it was 
 within the shelter of a husband's love, which God. 
 and nature, and duty and morality, assured her unre- 
 luctant faith should be eternal. Such was she then;, 
 all joy and hope, and generous credulity, the creduli- 
 ty that springs from honour and from innocence. — 
 And who could blame it ? You had a world to choose, 
 and she was your selection — your ages were compati- 
 ble — your births were equal — you had drawn her from 
 the house where she was honourable and happy — you 
 had a prodigal allowance showered on you by the 
 people — you had bowed your anointed head before 
 the altar, and sworn by its majesty to cherish and pro- 
 tect her, and this you did in the presence of that mor- 
 al nation from whom you hold the crown, and in the 
 face of that church of which you are the guardian. 
 The ties which bound you were of no ordinary tex- 
 ture — you stood not in the situation of some secluded 
 profligate, whose brutal satiety might leave its victim 
 to a death of solitude, where no eye could see. nor 
 echo tell the quiverings of heir agony. Your eleva- 
 tion was too luminous and too lofty to be overlooked, 
 and she, who confided with a vestal's faith and a vir- 
 gin's purity in your honour and your morals, Imd 9i 
 Y2 
 
262 LETTER 
 
 corroborative pledge in that publicity, which could 
 not leave her to suffer or be sinned against in secret. 
 All the calculations of her reason, all evidence of 
 her experience, combined their confirmation. Her 
 own parental home was purity itself, and yours might 
 have bound republicans to royalty ; it would have 
 been little less than treason to have doubted you ; 
 and, oh ! she was right to brush away the painted ver- 
 min that infest a court, who would have withered up 
 her youthful heart with the wild errors of your ripe 
 minority ! Oh, she was right to trust the honour of 
 '' Fair England's" heir, and weigh but as a breath- 
 blown grain of dust, a thousand follies and a thou- 
 sand faults, balanced against the conscience of her 
 husband. She did confide, and what has been the 
 consequence ? 
 
 History must record it, Sire, when the brighest gem 
 in your diadem shall have mouldered, that this young, 
 confiding, inexperienced creature had scarcely heard 
 ilie last congratulatory address upon her marriage, 
 vvhen she was exiled from her hvisbaixl's bed, banish- 
 ed from her husband's society, and abandoned to the 
 pollution of every slanderous sycophant who chose to 
 crawl over the ruin r Merciful God ! was it meet to 
 leave a human being so situated,, witli all her passions 
 excited and inflamed to the impulse of such abandon- 
 ment? Was it meet thus to subject her inexperienced 
 youth to the scorpion sting of exasperated pride, and 
 all its incidental natural temptations? Was it right to 
 i3ing the shadow of a husband's frown upon the then 
 inisuUied snow of her reputation ? Up to the blight of 
 that all-withering hour no human tongue dared to as- 
 perse her character. The sun of patronage was not 
 then strong enough to quicken into life the serpent 
 brood of slanderers : no starveling ahens, no hungry 
 lYihe of local expectants, then hoped to fatien upon 
 the affals of the royal reputation. She v/as not long 
 "HOugh ill widowhood J to give the spy and the perjux-- 
 
Xe THE KI-N'G. 2ib.; 
 
 er even a colour for their inventions. The peculiari- 
 ties of the foreigner; the weakness of the female — 
 the natural vivacity of youthful innocence, could not, 
 then be tortured into " demonstrations strong ;" for 
 you, yourself, in your recorded letter, had left her pu- 
 rity not only unimpeached, but unsuspected. That 
 invaluable letter, the living document of your separa- 
 tion, gives us the sole reason for your exile, that your 
 " inclinations'' were not in your power f That, Sire^ 
 and that alone, was the terrific reason which you gave 
 your consort for this heart-rending degradation. Per- 
 haps they were not ; but give me leave to ask, are not 
 the obligations of religion independent of us ? Has 
 any man a right to square the solemnities of marriage 
 according to his rude caprices ? Am I your lowly 
 subject, to understand that I m.ay kneel before the 
 throne of God, and promise conjugal fidelity until 
 death, and self-absolve myself, whatever moment it 
 suits my " inclination ?'' Not so will that mitred bench, 
 who see her majesty arraigned before them read to 
 you this ceremony. They will tell you it is the most 
 solemn ordinance of man — consecrated by the ap- 
 proving presence of our Saviour — acknowledged by 
 the whole civilized community — the source of life's. 
 purest pleasures, and of death's happiest consolations 
 — the rich fountain of our life and being, whose 
 draught not only purifies existence, but causes man to 
 live in his posterity ; tkey will tell you tliat it cannot 
 perish by '^' inclination," but by crime, and that if 
 tiiere is any difference between the prince and the 
 peasant who invoke its obligation, it is the more en- 
 larged duty entailed upon him, to whom the Almighty 
 has vouchsafed the influence of an example. 
 
 Thus, then, within one yearafter her marriage, was 
 s-he flung " like a loathsome weed," upon the world^ 
 no cause assigned except your loathing inclination } 
 It mattered nothing, that for you she had surrendered 
 ^-^ll hei* worldly prospects — that, she had left her horaer 
 
2G4 LETTER 
 
 lier parents and her country — that she had confided 
 in the honour of a prince, and the heart of a man, 
 and the faith of a Christian; she had, it seems, in one 
 ]ittle year, '' outUved your liking," and the poor, 
 abandoned, branded, heart-rent outcast, must bear it 
 all in silence, for — she was a defenceless woman and a 
 stranger. Let any man of ordinary feeling think on 
 her situation at this trying crisis, and say he does not 
 feel his heart's blood boil within him ! Poor unfurtunatel 
 Tvho could have envied her her salaried shame, and 
 her royal humiliation ? The lowest peasant in her re- 
 versionary realm was happy in the comparison. The 
 parents that loved her were far, far away — the friends 
 of her youtli were in another land — she was alone,^ 
 and he who slwuld have rushed between her and the 
 bolt of heaven, left her exposed to a rude world's cap- 
 rices. And yet she lived, and lived without a mur- 
 mur ; her tears were silent — her sighs were lonely ; 
 and when you, perhaps, in the rich blaze of earth's 
 magnificence, forgot that such a wretch existed, no 
 reproach of h.er's awoke your slumbering memory. 
 Perhaps she clierished the visionary hope that the 
 babe whose '''perilous infancy*' she cradled, might 
 one day be^her hapless mother's advocate ! How fond- 
 ly did she trace each faint resenit3!ancc ! Each little 
 casual paternal smile, which played upon the features 
 of that child, and might some distant daj' be her re- 
 demption ! liow, as it lisped the sacred name of fa- 
 ther, did she hope its innocent infant tone might yet 
 awake within that fathers breast some fond associa- 
 tion ! Oh, sacred fancies ! Oh, sweet and solemn vis- 
 ions of a mother — who but must hallow thee ! Blest 
 be the day-dream that begu'les her heart, and robes 
 each cloud that hovers o'er her child in airy colours of 
 that heart's creation ! Too soon life's wintry whirl- 
 wind must come to sweep the prismcd vapour into 
 nothing. 
 
 Thus, Sire, for many and many .o heavy year di4 
 
TO THE KlNO, 265 
 
 your deserted Queen beguile her soKtude. Mean- 
 while for you a flattering world assumed its harlot 
 smiles — the ready lie denied your errors — the villain 
 courtier deified each act, which in an humble man 
 was merely duty, and mid the din of pomp and mirth, 
 and revelry, if remorse spoke, 'twas inarticulate. Be- 
 lieve me. Sire, when all the tongues that flattered you 
 are mute, and all the gaudy pageants that deceived 
 you aie not even a shadow, an awful voice will ask in 
 thunder, did your poor wife deserve this treatment, 
 merely from some distaste of "inclination r" It must 
 be answered. Did not the altar's vow demand a strict 
 fidelity, and was it not a solemn and a sworn duty, "for 
 better and for worse," to watch and tend her— correct 
 her waywardness by gentle chiding, and fling the 
 fondness of an husband's love between her errors and 
 the world ? It must be answered, where the poorest 
 rag upon the poorest beggar in your realm, shall have 
 the splendour of a coronation garment. 
 
 Sad, alas ! were these sorrows of her solitude — 
 but sad as they were, they were but in their infancy. 
 The first blow passed — a second and severer fol- 
 lowed. The darling child, over whose couch she shed 
 her silent tear — upon whose head she poured her dai- 
 ly benediction — in whose infant smile she lived, and 
 moved, and had her being, was torn away, and in the 
 mother's sweet endearments she could no longer lose 
 the miseries of the wife. Her father and her laurel- 
 led brother too, upon the field of battle, sealed a life 
 of glory, happy in a soldier's death, far happier that 
 this dreadful day was spared them! Her sole surviving 
 parent followed soon, and though they left her almost 
 alone on earth, yet how could she regret them ? she 
 has at least the bitter consolation, that their poor 
 child's miseries did not break their hearts. Oh, mis- 
 erable woman ! made to rejoice over the very grave 
 of her kindredj in mournful gratitude that their hearts 
 are m*irble. 
 
2QQ LtTTLR 
 
 During a loRg probation of exile and wo, bereft of 
 parents, country, child and husband, she had one so- 
 lace still — her character Avas unblemished. By a re- 
 finement upon cruelty, even that consolation was de- 
 nied her. Twice had she to undergo the inquisition 
 of a secret trial, originating in foul conspiracy, and 
 ending in complete acquittal. The charity of her 
 nature was made the source of crime — the peculiari- 
 ties inseparable from her birth were made the ground 
 of accusation — her v( ry servants were questioned 
 whether every thought, and word, and look, and ges- 
 ture, and visit, were not so many overt acts of adul- 
 tery ; and when her most sacred moments had been 
 heartlessly explored, the tardy verdict which freed 
 her from theguilt,couldnotabso]ve her from the humil- 
 iating consciousness of the accusation. Your gracious 
 father, indeed, with a benevolence of heart more roy- 
 al than his royalty, interposed his arm between inno- 
 cence and punishment ; for punishment it was most 
 deep and grievous, to meet discountenance from all 
 your family, and see the fame which had defied all 
 proof, made the capricious sport of hint and insinua- 
 tion ; while that father lived, she still had some pro- 
 tection, even in his night of life there was a sanctity 
 about him which awed the daring of the highway 
 slanderer — his honest, open, genuine English look, 
 would have silenced a whole banditti of Italians. 
 Your father acted upon the principles he professed. 
 He was not more reverenced as a king than he was 
 beloved and respected as a man : and no doubt he 
 felt how poignant it must have been to be denounced 
 as a criminal without crime, and treated as a widow in 
 her husband's life-time. But death was busy with 
 her best protectors, and the venerable form is lifeless 
 now, which would have shielded a daughter and a 
 Brunswick. He would have warned the Milan pan- 
 ders to beware the honour of his ancient house; he 
 would have told them that a prying, pettifogging. 
 
TO THE KING, 267 
 
 purchased inquisition upon the unconscious pyvacy of 
 a royal female, was not in the spirit of English char- 
 acter ; he would have disdained the petty larcemi of 
 any diplomatic pickpocket ; and he would have told 
 the whole rabble of Italian informers and swindling 
 ambassadors, that his daughter's existence should not 
 become a perpetual proscription ; that she was doub- 
 ly allied to him by birth and marriage ; and that 
 those who exacted all a wife's obedience, should have 
 previously procured for her a husband's countenance. 
 God reward him ! There is not a father or an hus- 
 band in the land, whose heart does not at this moment 
 make a pilgrimage to his monument. 
 
 Thus having escaped from two conspiracies equal- 
 ly affecting her honour and life,finding all conciliation 
 hopeless, bereft by death of every natural protector, 
 and fearing perhaps ih^t practice might make perjury 
 consistent, she reluctantly determined on leaving Eng- 
 land. One pang alone embittered her departure ; her 
 4larling,and in dispite of all discountenance, her dute- 
 ous child, clung round her heart with natural tenacity. 
 Parents who love, and feel that very love compelling 
 separation, can only feel for her. Yet how could she 
 subject that devoted child to the humiliation of her 
 mother's misery ! How reduce her to the sad alterna- 
 tive of selecting between separated parents ! She 
 chose the generous, the noble sacrifice — self-banish- 
 ed, the world was before her — one grateful sigh for 
 England — one tear — the last, last tear upon her 
 daughter's head — and she departed. 
 
 Oh Sire, imagine her at that departure ! How 
 changed ! how fallen, since a few short years beforcj 
 she touched the shores of England ! The day-beam 
 fell not on a happier creature — creation caught new 
 colours from her presence, joy sounded its timbrel as 
 she passed, and the flowers of birth, of beauty, and of 
 chivalry, bowed down before her. But now, alone, 
 iqa orphan and a widow ! her galknt brother in his 
 
20 S LETTER 
 
 shroud of glory ; no arm to shield, uo tongue lo ad- 
 vocate, no friend to follow an o'erclouded fortune j 
 branded, degraded, desolate, she flung herself once 
 more upon the wave, to her less tickle than a iius- 
 band's promises ! I do not wonder that she has now to 
 pass through a severer ordeal, because impunity gives 
 persecution confidence. But I marvel indeed much, 
 that then, after the agony of an ex-parte trial, and 
 die triumph of a complete, though lingering exculpa- 
 tion, the natural spirit of English justice did not 
 stand embodied between her and the shore, and bear 
 her indignant to your capital. The people, the peer- 
 age, the prelacy should have sprung into unanimous 
 procession ; all that was noble or powerful, or conse- 
 crated in the land, should have borne her to the palace 
 gate, and demanded why their Queen presented to 
 their eye this gross anomaly ! Why her anointed brow 
 should bow down in die dust, when a British verdict 
 had pronounced her innocence ! Why she was refused 
 that conjugal restitution, which her humblest subject 
 had a right to claim ! Why the annals of their time 
 should be disgraced, and the morals of their nation 
 endure the taint of this terrific precedent; and why 
 it was that after their countless sacrifices for your roy- 
 al house, they should be cursed with this pageantry 
 ef royal humiliation ! Had they so acted, the dire al- 
 Hiction of this day might have been spared us. We 
 ^should not have seen the filthy sewers of Italy dis- 
 gorge a living leprosy upon our throne; and slaves 
 and spies, imported from a creedless brothel, land to 
 attaint the sacred Majesty of England ! But who, 
 alas ! will succour the unfortunate ? The cloud of 
 your displeasure was upon her, and the gay, glitter- 
 ing, countless insect swarm of summer friends, abide 
 but in the sun-beam .' She passed away — with sympa- 
 thy I doubt not, but in silence. 
 
 Who could have thought, that in a foreign land, 
 die restless fiend of persecution would have haunted 
 
f» THK ICliVe. 2^ 
 
 ber ? Whft «ould have thought, that in tho<5e distant 
 climes, where her distracted brain had sought oblivi- 
 ©n, the demoniac malice of her enemies would have 
 followed ? who could have thought that any htnnan 
 form which had an heart, would have skulked alter 
 the muurner in her wanderings, to noteaud crm every 
 nnconscious gesture ? who could have th&ughJ,that 
 such a man there was, who h-a^l drank at the |}<tre 
 fountain of our British law ! who had seen eternal jus- 
 tice in her sanctuary ! who had invoked tl.e shades 
 of Holt and Ilardwicke, and held high converse with 
 those mighty spirits, whom mercy hailed in Heaven 
 
 as her representatives on eartl 
 
 Yet such a man there w as ; who, on the classic 
 shores of Como, even in the land of the illustrious 
 Roman, where every stone entombed an hero, and 
 every scene was redolent of genius, forgot his name, 
 his country and liis calling, to hoard such coinai.le 
 and rabble slander! Oh,sacred shades of our departed 
 sages ! avert your eyes from this unhallowed specta- 
 cle ; the spotless ermine is unsullied still ; the ark 
 3'et stands untainted in tlie temple, and should uncon- 
 secrated hands assail it, there is a lightning still,whicli 
 would not slumber ! No, no ; the judgment seat of 
 British law is to be soared, not cra?/7/e^ to ; it must 
 be sought upon an eagle's pinion and gazed at by an 
 eagle's eye ; there is a radiant purity around it, to 
 blast the glance of grovelling speculation. His la- 
 bour was in vain. Sire; tlie people of England will not 
 listen to Italian witnesses, nor ought they. Our 
 Queen, has been, beibre this, twice assailed, and as- 
 sailed on the same charges. Adultery, nay, pregnan- 
 cy, was positively sworn to. One of the ornaments of 
 o«ir navy, Capt. Manby, and one of the most glorious 
 heroes who ever gave a nation immortality, a spirit of 
 Marathon or old Thermopylae ; he who planted Eng- 
 land's red cross on the walls of Acre, and showed Na- 
 poleon, it v/as invincible, were the branded traitors t^ 
 
270 LETTER 
 
 their sovereign's bed I Englishmeiij and, greater scan- 
 dal, English women, persons of rank, and birth, and 
 education,\vere found to depose to this infernal charge ! 
 The royal mandate issued for enquiry; Lord Erskine, 
 Lord Ellenborough, a man who had dandled accusa- 
 tions from his infanc\', sat on the commission ; and 
 what was the result ? Tliey found a verdict of perju- 
 ry against her base accusers ! The > cry clnld for 
 whose parentage she niigiit have shed her sacred 
 blood, was proved beyond all possible denial, to have 
 ]jeen but the adoption of her charity. — '* >Vx* are hap- 
 py to declare to your majesty our perfect conviction, 
 that there is no foundation whatever for believing, (I 
 quote the very words of the commissioners,) that the 
 ehild now with the princess, is the child of her royal 
 highness, or that she was delivered of any child in the 
 year 1S02 ! nor has any thing appeared to us, which 
 would warrant the belief that she was pregnant in that 
 5"ear, or at an t^ other period within the compass of our 
 enquiries.^' Yet people of rank, and station, moving 
 in the highest society in England, admitted even to 
 the sovereign's court,actualIy volunteered their sworn 
 attestation of this falsehood ! Twoily years have roll- 
 ed over her since, and yet the same foul charge of 
 adaltcry, sustained not as before by the plausible lab- 
 ricatioDs of Englishmen, but bolstered by the habitual 
 inventions of Italians, is sought to be affixed /o the 
 evening of her ifife, in the face of a generous and a 
 loyal people ! A kind of sacramental shipload — a 
 packed and assorted carc;^ of humi.n aflidavits has been 
 consigned, it seems, from Italy to Westminster: thir- 
 ty-three thousand pounds of the jjeople's money paid 
 the pedlar who selected the articles ; and with this in- 
 fected freight, which sliould have performed quaran- 
 tine before it vomited its moral pestilence amongst us, 
 the Queen ol' England is souglu to be attainted ! It 
 cannot be. Sire ; we liave given much, very much in- 
 '\om], to (brciuuers, but v.e wiii not concede to tbem 
 
iO THE KING. 2'7i 
 
 the hard-earned principles of British justice. It is not 
 to be endured, that two acquittals should be followed 
 by a third experiment ; that when the English testa- 
 ment has failed, an Italian missuVs kiss shall be resor- 
 ted to; that when people of character here have been 
 discredited, others should be recruited who have no 
 character any where ; but above all, it is intolerable, 
 that a defenceless woman should pass her life in end- 
 less persecution, with one trial in swift succession fol- 
 lowing another, in the hope, perhaps, that her noblo 
 heart which has defied all proof should perish in the 
 torture of eternal accusation. Send back, then, to It- 
 aly, those alien adventurers ; the land of their birth, 
 and the habits of their l!ves,alike unlit thcni for an Eng- 
 lish court of justice. There is no spark of freedom — 
 no grace of religion — no sense of morals in their de- 
 generate soil. Effeminate in manners ; sensual from 
 their cradles ; crafty, venal, and officious ; naturali- 
 zed to crime; outcasts of credulity ; they have seen 
 from their infancy their court a bagnio, their very 
 churches scenes of daily assassination ! their faith i? 
 form ; their marriage ceremony a mere mask for the 
 most incestuous intercourses; gold is the god before 
 which they prostrate every impulse of their nature. 
 ^^ A curi sacra fames ! quid non mortalia pectora cogis \'' 
 the once indignant exclamation of their antiquity, has- 
 become the maxim of their modern practice. 
 
 No nice extreme a true. Ilalian knows : 
 But, bid bini go to hell — to hell he goes. 
 
 Away with them any where from us ; they caniiot- 
 live in England ; they will die in the purity of its 
 moral atmosphere. 
 
 Meanwhile during this accursed scrutiny, even 
 while the legal bloud-hounds were on the scent, tlic 
 last dear stay which bound her to the world parted ; 
 the prbicess Charlotte died I I will not harrov; up a 
 
212 LETTER 
 
 father's feelings, by dwelling on this dreadful recol^ 
 lection. The poet says, that even grief finds comfort 
 in society, and England wept w ilh you. But, oh, God ! 
 what must have been that hapless mother's misery, 
 when first the dismal tidings came upon her ! The 
 darling child over whose cradle she had shed so many 
 tears — whose lightest look was treasured in her mem- 
 ory — who, amid the world's frown, still smiled upon 
 her — the fair and lovely flower, which, when her orb 
 was quenched in tears, lost not its filial, its divine 
 iidelity ! It was blighted iu its bosom — its verdant 
 stem was withered, and in a foreign land she heard it, 
 and alotic — no, no, not quite alone. The myrmidons 
 of British hate were around her, and when her heart's 
 bait tears were blinding her, a German nobleman was 
 plundering her letters. Bethink you. Sire, if that fair 
 paragon of daughters lived, would England's heart be 
 wrung with this enquiry ? Oh ! she would have torn 
 the diamonds from her brow, and dashed each royal 
 mockery to the earth, and rushed before the people, 
 not in a monarch's, but in nature-s majesty — a child 
 appealing for her persecuted mother ! and God would 
 bless the sight, a man would hallow it, and every lit- 
 tle infant in the land who felt a mother's warm tear 
 upon her cheek, would turn by instinct to tl}at sacred 
 summons. Your daughter in her shroud, is yet alive, 
 Sire — her spirit is amongst us — it rose untombed when 
 lier poor mutlier lauded — it walks amid the people- 
 it has left the angels to protect a parent. 
 
 The theme is sacred, and I will not sully it — I will 
 Hot recapitulate the griefs, and, worse than griefs, the 
 little, pitiful, deliberate insults which are burning on 
 every tongue in England. Every hope blighted — ev- 
 ery friend discountenanced — her kindred in their 
 grave — her declared innocence made but the herald 
 to a more cruel accusation — her two trials followed by 
 a tliird, a third on the same charges — her royal char- 
 acter iusiauated away by German jyicMod:^ and Ital- 
 
£>j THE KiNu. i>7;i; 
 
 ian coTispirators — her divorce sought by an extraor- 
 dinary procedure^ upon grounds untenable before any 
 usual lay or ecclesiastical tribunal — her name meanly 
 erased from the Liturgy — her natural rights as a mo- 
 ther disregarded,and her civil right as a Queen sought 
 to be exterminated ! and all this — nil, because she 
 dared to touch the sacred soil of liberty ! because she 
 did not banish herself, an implied adulteress ! because 
 she would not be bribed into an abandonment of her-^ 
 self and of the country over which she has been called 
 to reign, and to which her heart is bound by the most 
 tender ties, and the most indelible obligations. Yes^ 
 she might have lived wherever she selected, in all the 
 magnificence which boundless bribery could procure 
 for her, offered her by those who affect such tender- 
 ness for your royal character, and such devotion to 
 the honour of her royal bed. If they thought her 
 guilty, as they allege, this daring offer was a double 
 treason — treason to your majesty, whose honor they 
 compromised — treasao to the people, whose money 
 they thus prostituted. But she spurned the infamous 
 temptation, and she was right. She was right to front 
 her insatiable accusers ; even were she guilty, never 
 -was there a victim with such crying paniations,bm all 
 innocent, as in my conscience I believe her to be, not 
 perhaps of the levities contingent on her birth, and 
 which shall not be converted into constructive crimey 
 but of the cruel charge of adultery ,now for athird time 
 produced against her. She was right, bereft of the 
 court, which was her natural residence, and all buoy- 
 ant with innocence as she felt, bravely to fling herself 
 xipon the wave of the people^ — that people will pro- 
 tect her — Britain^s red cross is her flag, and Bruns- 
 ivick's spirit is her pilot. May the Almighty send her 
 royal vessel triumphant into harbour ! 
 
 Sire, I am almost done j I have touched but 
 
 slightly on your Queen^s misfortunes — I have coit- 
 
 ^racted the volume of her injuries to a single page,. 
 
 Z,2 ^ 
 
€7^ tETTER 
 
 and if upon that page one word ofTend yon, intpvjte- 
 it to my zeal, not my intention. Accustomed ail my 
 life to speak the simple truth, I olFer it with fearles;? 
 honesty to my sovereign. You are in a difficult — if. 
 may be in a most perilous emergency. Banish from 
 your court the sycophants who abuse you^ surround 
 your palace w ith approving multitudes^ not armed 
 with mercenaries.. Other crowns may be bestowed b}" 
 despots and entrenched by cannon -y. but 
 
 The throne we honor is the people's choice. 
 
 Its safest bulwark is the popular heart, and its bright- 
 est ornament ddmestic virtue. Forget not also, there 
 is a throne which is above even the throne of England 
 —where flatterers cannot come — where kings are scep- 
 treless. The vows you made are w ritten in languaga 
 brighter than the sun, and in the course olnature, yoa 
 must soon confront them ; prepare the way by effa- 
 cing now, each seeming, slight and fancied injury ; 
 and when you answer the lc;st awful trumpet, be your 
 answer this : '' GOD, I FORGAVE— 1 HOPE TO 
 BE FORGIVEN." 
 
 But, if against all policy, all Immanity, and all 
 ccljgion, you shall hearken to the counsels which 
 further countenance this unmanly persecution, then 
 must I appeal, not to you, but to your parliament. 
 I appeal to the sacred prelacy of England, wheth- 
 er the holy vows which their high clunch admin- 
 istered, have been kept towards this illustrious la- 
 dy — whether the hand of man should have erased 
 her from th.it i)age, with which it is worse than blas- 
 phemy in man to interfere — whether as Heaven's- 
 \;tcegerents, they will not abjure the sordid passions 
 of the earth, imitate the inspired humanity of their 
 Saviour,, and like Him, project a persecuted creature 
 from the insatiate fangs of ruthless, bloody, and ui3- 
 tringaccusatioru 
 
TO THE KIXG^ :>^ j- 
 
 I appeal to the hercditanj peerage of the realm, 
 wheilier they will aid tiiis levelling dcDiuiciution ot 
 their Queen — whether they will exhibit the unseemly 
 spectacle of illustrious rank and royal lineage degra- 
 ded for the crime ol" claiming its inheritance — wheth- 
 er they will hold a sort of civil crimination^ where the 
 accused is entitled to the mercy of an impeachment / 
 or whether they will say witii theirimmortal ancestors 
 — '• We will not tamper with the laws of England !'' 
 
 I appeal to the ermined, independent judges, wiieth- 
 er life is to be made a perpetual indictment — wheth- 
 er two ac(juitials should not discountenance a third ex- 
 periment — whether, if any subject came to their tri- 
 bunal thus circumstanced, claiming either divorce or 
 Qompensation, they would grant his suit, and 1 invoke 
 from them, b}^ the eternal majesty of British justice, the 
 same measure for the peasant and the prince ! 
 
 I appeal to the Commons in Parliament assembled^ 
 representing the fathers and the husbands of the nation 
 — I beseech them by the outraged morals of the land ! 
 — by the overshadowed dignity of the throne — by the 
 holiest and tenderest forms of religion — by the lion- 
 our of the army, the sanctity of the church, the safety 
 of the state, ami character of the country — by the 
 solemn virtues which consecrate their hearths — by 
 those fond endearments of nature and of hab't which 
 attach them to tiieir cherished wives and famihes, I 
 implore their tears, their protection, and tlieir pity 
 upon the married widow and the childless mother ! 
 
 To those liigh powers and authorities I appeal^ 
 with the firmest confidence in their honour.their integ- 
 rity, and their wisdom. May their comiuct jiistify 
 my faith, and raise no blush on the cheek of our pos^ 
 serity ! 
 
 I have the honor to subscribe myself^ 
 Sire, 
 
 Your Majesty's most faithful subject. 
 
 CHARLES PHILLIPS'. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 ROBERT EMMETT. 
 
 IFer the following sketch of the character and trial of this distiu- 
 giiished champion of liberty, we are indebted to Phillips'' RecoUcc- 
 fions ofCvrran. a work of great merit, recently published. The 
 speech of Mr. Emmett, delivered immediately before sentence of 
 death, we have copied from anotlier work. This has been given by 
 his immediate friends, and may be considered more genuine than 
 any that has been presented to the world by his enemies. — Speaking 
 of Ireland, Mr. Phillips says :— 
 
 After t!ie dreadful tempest of 1798, the country 
 seemed to have fallen into a natural repose. Gov- 
 ernment was beginning to relax in its severities — the 
 Habeas Corpus act was again in operation — the Un* 
 ion had been carried, and this once kingdom w as grad- 
 ually sinking into the humility- of a contented prov- 
 ince. All of a sudden, the government unprepared, 
 the people unsuspicious, and the whole social system 
 apparently proceeding without impediment or appre- 
 hension, an insurrection broke out in Dublin, which 
 was attended with some melancholy, and at first threat- 
 ened very serious consequences. At the head of this 
 msurrection was Robert Emmett, a young gentle- 
 man of respectable family, interesting manners, and 
 most extraordinary genius. He had been very inti- 
 mate in Curran's family, and was supposed to have 
 had a peculiar interest in its happiness. To that in- 
 timacy he feelingly alluded afterwards on his trial 
 when he said — " For the public service I abandoned 
 the worship of another idol whom I adored in my 
 soul." — It is remarkable enough that some years be^ 
 fere, his brothefj Mr. Thomas Addis Emmett, hadj 
 
378 APPEJTBIX. 
 
 with Doctor Mac Nevin and several other disconteut- 
 ed characters, been deported to America, where he is. 
 now practising at the bar of New-York with eminent' 
 success. He is a man of very resplendent genius, 
 and indeed it seemed to be hereditary in his family. 
 His father was state physician, and his brother Tem- 
 ple, who died at the ago of thirty, had already attain- 
 ed the very summit of liis profession. But the per- 
 son whose fate excited the most powerful interest was 
 the unfortunate Robert. He was but just twenty- 
 three, had graduated in Trinity College, and was gift- 
 ed with abilities and virtues which rendered him an 
 object of universal esteem and admiration. Every 
 one loved — every one respected him — his fate made 
 an impression on the University which has not yet 
 been obliterated. His mind was naturally melan- 
 clioly and romantic — he had fed it from the pure 
 fountain of classic literature, and might be said to 
 Lave lived, not so much in the scene around him as in. 
 the society of the illustrious and sainted dead. The 
 poets of antiquity were his companions — its patriots 
 his models, and its republics his admiration. He had 
 but just entered upon the world, full of the ardour 
 which such studies miglitbe supposed to have excited, 
 and unhappily at a period in the history of his coun- 
 try, when such noble feelings were not only detrimen- 
 tal but dangerous. It is but an ungenerous loyalty 
 which would not weep over the extinction of such a 
 spirit. The irritation of the Union had but just sub- 
 sided. The debates upon that occasion he had drank 
 in with devotion, and doctrines were then promulga- 
 ted by some of the ephemeral patriots of the day, 
 well calculated to inllajne minds less ardent than 
 Robert Emmett's. Let it not be forgotten by those 
 who affect to despise his memory, that men, matisred 
 by experies^ce, deeply read in the laws of their coun- 
 try, and venerated as the high priests of t-ie constitu- 
 tion, had but two years bafore, vehemently ^icloquent^- 
 
APPENDIX, 27s 
 
 ]y, and earnestly, in the very temple itself, proclaimed 
 resistance to be a duty. Unhappily for him, his mind 
 became as it were drunk witli the delusions of the 
 day, and he formed the v.ild idea of emancipating 
 his country from her supposed thraldom by the sac- 
 rifice of his own personal fortune, and the instrumen- 
 tality of a few desperate and undisciplined followers. 
 On the 23d day of July, 1803, this rebellion, if it 
 can be called such, arose in Dublin ; and so unpre- 
 pared was government for such an event, that it is an 
 indisputable fact, that there was not a single ball with 
 which to supply the artillery. Indeed, had the delu- 
 «led followers of Emmett common sense or common 
 conduct, the castle of Dublin must have fallen into 
 their possession ; and what fortunately ended in a 
 petty insurrection, might have produced a renewal of 
 the disastrous 98. JMuch depesids upon the success of 
 the moment ; and there was no doubt,, there were very 
 many indolent or desponding malcontents, whom the 
 surrender of that citadel v/ould ]m\ e roused into ac- 
 tivity. However, a very melancholy and calamitous 
 occurrence is supposed at the moment to have divert- 
 ed Emmett's mind from an object so important. — 
 Lord Kil warden, (lie then" Chief justice, the old and 
 esteemed friend of JMr. Curran,was returning from the 
 €ountry,and had to pass through the very street of the 
 insurrection. He was recognized — seized, and inhu- 
 manly murdered, against all the entreaties and com.- 
 mands of Emmett. This is supposed to have dis- 
 gusted and debilitated him. He would not wade 
 througii blood to liberty, and found, too late, that 
 treason could not be restrained even by the authority 
 it acknowledged. Lord Kilv.arden died like a judi- 
 cial hero. Covered with pike woiiiius, and fainting 
 from loss of blood, his last words were, ^* Let no man 
 perish in consequence of my death, but by the regular 
 operation of the laws,*' — words which sliould be en- 
 graven in letters of gold upon his monument. Spealc- 
 
2$d APP£]k*fti^« 
 
 iiig of liim afterwards, during the subseqiieiit triaU, 
 ;^Ir. Curran said, '' It is impossible for any man ha- 
 ving a head or a heart to look at this infernaltransac- 
 tion without horror. I had known Lord Kilwarden 
 for twenty years. No man possessed more strongly 
 than he did two qualities — he was a lover of humani- 
 ty and justice almost to a weakness, if it can be a weak- 
 ness." The result of this murder was the paralysis of 
 the rebels, and the consequent arrest of Emmett. — 
 There was found in his depot a little paper in which 
 was drawn up a sort of anal} bis of his own mind, and 
 a supporiition of the state in which it was likely to be 
 ill case his pros]>ects ended in disappointment. Jt is an 
 admirable portraiture of enthusiasm. ^' I have but lit- 
 tle time," he says,'* to look at the thousand diliiculties 
 which lie between me and tlie completion of my pro- 
 jects. That those difhculties will likewise disa]»pear, 
 1 have ardent, and, 1 trust, rational hopes; l>ut if it is 
 not to be the case, I thank God for having gifted me 
 with a sanguine disposition : to that disposition I ruu 
 from rellection; and if my hopes are without founda- 
 tion — if a precipice is opening under my leet from 
 which duty will not suffer me to run back,l am grate- 
 ftd for that sanguine disposition, which leads mc to the 
 brink and throws me down,while m}' eyes are still raised 
 to that vision of happiness which my fancy formed in the 
 air." On the 19th ol September, 1803, he was brought 
 to trial, and of course convicted. Indeed, his object 
 appeared to be to shield his character rather irom the 
 imputation of blood than of rebellion ; and it is but 
 an act of justice to his memory, to say, that, so far as 
 depended upon him, there Avas nothing of inhumanity 
 imputable. Mr. Curran was, I believe, originally as- 
 signed him as counsel, but this arrangement was af- 
 terwards interrupted. Nothing could exceed the pub- 
 lic anxiety to hear the trial : however, the audience 
 was exclusively military — there was not a person in 
 coloured clothes in the court-house. Jjnmett remain- 
 
APPENDIX. 281 
 
 ©d perfectly silent until asked by the court, in the usu- 
 al form, what he had to say why sentence of death 
 should not be pronounced on him according to law. — 
 The following is his speech upon that occasion : — 
 
 Mr. Emmett. " What have I to say why sentence 
 •f death should not be pronounced on me according 
 to law ? I have nothing to say that can alter your 
 predetermination, nor that will become me to say 
 with any view to the mitigation of that sentence 
 which you are here to pronounce, and I must abide 
 by. But I have that to say which interests me more 
 than life, and which you have laboured (as was neces- 
 sarily your office in the present circumstances of 
 this oppressed country) to destroy. I have much 
 to say why my reputation should be rescued from the 
 load of false accusation and calumny which has been 
 heaped upon it, 
 
 I do not imagine that, seated where you are, your 
 minds can be so free from impurity as to receive the 
 least impression from what I am going to utter. I 
 have no hopes that I can anchor my character in the 
 breast of a court constituted and trammeled as this is. 
 I only wish, and it is the utmost I expect, that your 
 Lordships may suffer it to float down your memories^ 
 untainted by the foul breath of prejudice, until it 
 finds some more hospitable harbour to shelter it from 
 the storms by which it is at present bufleted. Were 
 I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty by 
 your tribunal, ^ should bow in silence, and meet the 
 fate that awaits me without a murmur ; but the sen- 
 tence of the law, which delivers my body to the exe- 
 cutioner, will, tlirough the -'lijiistry ol that !aw, labour, 
 in its own v linicat'on, to consign my character to ob- 
 loquy — for tfiDe nuist be guilt somewhere ; whethei' 
 in the sentence of the court, or in the catastrophe,poS' 
 terity must detenn ne. A man in my situation has 
 not only to encounter the difficulties of fortune, and 
 A a 
 
282 APPENDIX. 
 
 the force of power over minds which it has corrupted 
 or subjugated, but also the difficuhies of estabhslied 
 prejudice. The man dies, but his memory Hves. — 
 ^rhatmine may not perish, that it may live in the res- 
 pect of my countrymen, I seize upon this opportunity 
 to vindicate myself from some of the charges alledged 
 against me. When my spirit shall be wafted to a 
 more friendly port ; when my shade shall have joined 
 the bands of those martyred heroes who have shed 
 their blood on the scaffold and in the field, in defence 
 of their country and of virtue — this is my hope — I wish 
 that my memory and name may animate those who 
 survive me ; while I look down with complacency on 
 the destruction of that perfidious government which 
 upholds its domination by blasphemy of the Most 
 High — which displays its power over men as over the 
 beasts of the forest — which sets man upon his bro- 
 ther, and lifts his 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 go- 
 vernment, which is steeled to barbarity by the cries of 
 the orphans and the tears of the widows which it has 
 made. [Here Lord Norbitrii interrupted Mr. Emmett, 
 sa'jing, that the ivicked enthusiasts iv ho felt as he did 
 icere not equal to the accomplishment of their ivild de- 
 signs.'] 
 
 I appeal to tlie immaculate God — I swear by the 
 throne of Heaven, before which I must shortly appear 
 ■"—by the blood of the murdered patriots who have 
 gone before me — that my conduct has been through 
 all this peril, and through all my purposes, governed 
 only by the convictions which I have uttered, and by 
 no other view than that of their cure, and the eman- 
 cipation of my country from the superinhuman op- 
 •pression under which she has so long and too patient- 
 ly travailed ; and I confidently liope, that wild and 
 chimerical as it may appear, tjiere is still union aixi 
 strength in Ireland sufficient to accomplish this tw)- 
 
AFPEXDIX. ?83 
 
 blest enterprise. Of this I speak with the confidence 
 of intimate knowledge, and with the consolation that 
 appertains to that confidence. Think not. my Lord, 
 I say this for the petty gratification of giving you a 
 transitory uneasiness. A man who never yet raised 
 liis voice to assert a lie will not hazard his character 
 with posterity by asserting a falsehood, on a subject 
 so important to his country, and on an occasion like 
 this. Yes, my Lord, a man who does not wish to 
 have his epitaph written until his country is liberated, 
 will not leave a weapon in the power of envy nor a 
 pretence to impeach the probity which he means to 
 preserve even in the grave to which tyranny consigns 
 him. [Hcj'e he ivas again interrupted by the judge.'] 
 
 Again I say that what I have spoken was not inten- 
 ded for 3"our Lordship, whose situation I commiserate 
 rather than envy — my expressions were for my coun- 
 trymen ; if tliere is a true Irishman present, let my 
 last words cheer him in the hour of affliction. [Here 
 he icas again interrupted hithe court.'] 
 
 I have always understood it to be the duty of u 
 judge, when a prisoner has been convicted, to pro- 
 nounce the sentence of the law ; I have also under- 
 stood 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 
 benignitVjhis opinions of the motives by which he was 
 actuated in the crime of which he had been adjudg- 
 ed guilty — that a judge has thought it his duty so 6f> 
 have done, I have no doubt; but where is the boasted 
 freedom of your institutions — where is the vaunted 
 impartiality and clemency of your courts of justice, ir 
 an unfortunate prisoner, whom your policy, not pure 
 Justine, is about to deliver into the hands of the exe- 
 cutioner, is not suffered to explain his motives sin- 
 cerely and truly, to vindicate the principles by which 
 he was actuated ? 
 
 My Lord^ it may be a part of the system oi^angrf 
 
584 APPENDIX^ 
 
 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 im*- 
 putations as have been laid against me in this court* 
 You, my Lord, are a judge, I am the supposed cul- 
 prit — I am a man, you are a man also — by a revolu- 
 tion of power, we might change places, though we 
 never could change characters ; if I stand at the bar 
 of this court, and dare not vindicate my character, 
 what a farce is your justice ! If I stand at this bar,and 
 dare not vindicate my character, how dare you calum- 
 niate it ? Does the sentence of death, which your un- 
 hallowed policy inflicts on my body,also condemn my 
 tongue to silence, and my reputation to reproach ? 
 Your executioner may abridge the period of ray exis- 
 tence ; but, while I exist, I shall not forbear to vindi- 
 cate 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 hfe 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, we 
 must appear on the great day at one common tribu- 
 nal, and it will then remain for the Searcher of all 
 hearts to show a collective universe who was engaged 
 in the most virtuous actions, or attached by the purest 
 motives — my country's oppressors, or — [Here he was 
 interrupted J and told to listen to the sentence of the 
 laio.'] 
 
 My Lord, shall 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 attempti?ip: to cast away, for a paltry considera- 
 tion, theliberties of his country ! Why did your Lord- 
 ship insult me ? — or, rather, why insult justice in der 
 manding of me why sentence of death bhould not h^ 
 
APPENDIX. 285' 
 
 pronounced ? I know, my Lord, that form prescribes 
 that you should ask the question ; the form also pre- 
 sumes a right of answering. This, no doubt, may be 
 dispensed with — and so might the whole ceremony of 
 the trial, since sentence was already pronounced at 
 the castle before your jury was empannelled; your 
 Lordships are but the priests of the oracle — and I sub- 
 mit to the sacrifice; but I insist on the whole of th6 
 forms. [Here 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 al- 
 ledged that I wished to sell the independence of my 
 country 1 And for what end ? Was this the object of 
 my ambition ? And is this the mode by which a trir 
 bunal of justice reconciles contradictions ? No ; I am 
 no emissary — my ambition was to hold a place among 
 the deliverers of my country — not in power, not in 
 profit, but in the glory of the achievement ! Sell my 
 countiy's independence to France I and for what ? 
 A change of masters ? No ; but for ambition ? 
 
 Oh, my country ! was it personal ambition that in- 
 fluenced 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 myseh amongst 
 the proudest of your oppressors ? My country was my 
 idol — to it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing 
 sentiment, and for it I now offer up my life. Oh, God I 
 No, my Lord, I acted as an Irishman^ determined on 
 delivering my country from the yoke of a foreign and 
 unrelenting tyranny, and from the more galling yoke 
 of a domestic faction, its joint partner and perpetrator 
 in patricide, whose rewards are the ignominy of ex» 
 isling witii an exterior of splendour, and a conscious- 
 ness of depravity. 
 
 It was the wish of my heart to extricate my country 
 
 from this doubly rivete'l des;jjtism. I wished to place 
 
 her independence beyond the reach of any power on 
 
 earth. I wished to exalt her to that proud station 
 
 Aa2 
 
286 APPENDIX. 
 
 in the world which Providence had destined her tc 
 fill. 
 
 Connexion with France was indeed intended — hut 
 only so far as mutual interest would sanction or require ; 
 were they to assume any authority inconsistent with 
 the purest independence, it would be the signal for 
 their destruction — we sought aid, and we souglit it as 
 we had assurances we should obtain it — as auxiharies 
 in war, and allies in peace. 
 
 Were the French to come as invaders, or enemies 
 uninvited by the wishes of the people, I should oppose 
 them to the utmost of my strength. Yes, my coun- 
 trymen, I should advise you to meet them on the 
 beach, with a sword in one hand and a torch in the 
 other. I would meet them with all the destructive 
 fury of war, and I v/ould animate my countrymen to 
 immolate them in their boats before they had con- 
 taminated the soil of my country. If they succeeded 
 inlanding,and if forced to retire before superior disci- 
 pline, I would dispute every inch of ground, raze eve- 
 ry house, burn every blade of grass — the last spot in 
 which the hope of freedom should desert me, there 
 would I hold, and the last intrenchment of liberty 
 should be my grave. What I could not do myself, in 
 ray fall, I should leave as a last charge to my coun- 
 trjanen to accomplish, because I should feel con- 
 scious that life, any more than death,is dishonourable 
 when a foreign nation holds my country in subjec- 
 tion. 
 
 But it was not as an enemy tliat the succours of 
 France were to land ; I looked, indeed, for the assis- 
 tance of France. I wished to prove to France and to 
 the world, that Irishmen deserved to be assisted — that 
 they were indignant of slavery, and were ready to as- 
 sert the independence and liberty of their country. 
 I wished to procure for my country the guaranty 
 which Washington procured for America. To pro- 
 cure an aid which would, by its example^, be as impoi'- 
 
taut as its valour — disciplined, gallant, pregnant with 
 science and with experience ; allies avIio would per- 
 ceive tiie good, and, in our collision, 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 ; n>y ohjects wer.'^ 
 not to receive new task-masters, hut to expel old ty- 
 rants — these were my views, and these only hecame 
 Irishmen. It was for these ends I sought aid from 
 France — because France, even as an enemy, could 
 not be more implacable than the ememy already in 
 the bosom of my country ! [Here he was infernipf- 
 ed hy the court.^ 
 
 I have been charged with that importance in the efforts 
 to emancipate my country ,as tobe considered the key- 
 stone of the combination of Irishmen, or, as your 
 Lordship expressed it, " the life and blood of the con- 
 spiracy."' You do me honour overmuch — you have 
 given to the subaltern all the credit of a superior; 
 there are men engaged in this conspirac}^ who are not 
 only superior to me,but even to your own conceptions 
 of youi^elf, my Lord — men before tlie splendour of 
 whose genius and virtues I should bow with respect- 
 ful deference, and who would think themselves dis- 
 honoured to be called your friends — who would not 
 disgrace themselves by shaking your blood-stained 
 hand — [Here he was interrupied.~\ 
 
 What, my Lord, shall you tell me, on the passage 
 to that scaffold v/hich the tyranny, of which you are 
 only the intermediary executioner, has erected for my 
 murder, that I am accountable for all the blood that 
 has and will be shed m this struggle of the oppressed 
 against tjieoppressor — shall you tell me this, and must 
 I be so very a slave as not to repel it ? I, who fear not 
 to approach the Omnipotent Judge, to answer for the 
 conduct of my whole life — am I to be appalled and 
 falsified by a mere remnant of mxortality here — by 
 you, too, who, if it were possible to co.llcct all the in* 
 
288 APPENDIX. 
 
 nocent blood that you have shed, in your unhallowed 
 ministry, in one great reservoir, your Lordship might 
 jSwim in it ! [He?'e the judge interfered.~\ 
 
 Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me 
 with dishonour — let no man attaint my memory, by 
 believing that I could engage in any cause but that of 
 my country's liberty and independence — or that I 
 could become the pliant minion of power in the op- 
 pression or the miseries of my countrymen ; the proc- 
 lamation of the provisional government speaks for my 
 views; no inference can be tortured from it to counte- 
 nance barbarity or debasement at home, or subjection, 
 or humiliation, or treachery, from abroad. I would 
 not have submitted to a foreign invader, for the same 
 reason that I would resist the domestic oppressor. In. 
 the dignity of freedom I would have fought upon the 
 tjneshold of my country, and its enemy should enter 
 only by passing over my lifeless corpse. And am I, 
 who lived but lor my country, who have subjected my- 
 self to the dangers of the jealous and watchful op- 
 pressor, and now to the bondage of the grave, only to 
 give my countrymen their rights and my country her 
 independence, to be loaded with calumny, and not 
 suflered to resent and repel it ? No ; God forbid ! 
 
 If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in 
 the concerns and cares of those who were dear to 
 •them in this transitory life — Oh ! ever dear and vene- 
 rated shade of my departed father, look down with 
 scrutiny upon the conduct of your suffering son, and 
 see if I have even for a moment deviated from those 
 principles of morality and patriotism which it was 
 your care to instil into my youthful mind, and for 
 which I am now to offer up my life. 
 
 My Lords, you seem impatient for the sacrifice — 
 the blood for which you thirst is not congealed by the 
 artificial terrors which surround your victim; it cir- 
 culates warmly and unruffled through the cliannels 
 which God created for noble purposes, but which you 
 
APPENDIX. 289 
 
 are bent to destroy for purposes so grievous, that they 
 cry to Heaven. Be yet patient ! I have but a few 
 words more to say. I am going to my cold and silent 
 grave ; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished : my 
 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 from this world ; it is the charity of its si- 
 lence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for as no man 
 who knows my motives dare noio vindicate them, let 
 not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them 
 and me repose in obscurity, and my tomb remain uu- 
 inscribed, until other times and other men can do jus- 
 tice to my character. When my country takes her 
 place among the nations of the earth, then, and not 
 till then, let my epitaph be written. 1 have done !" 
 
 These were the last words which Robert Emmett 
 ever spoke in public ; and these words deliberately 
 avowed and justified the ccnd'jct for which his life 
 had been pronounced the forfeit. Indeed he does not 
 appear to have been a young man upon whose mind 
 adversity could produce any effect. He was buoyed 
 up by a characteristic enthusiasm ; and this, tempered 
 as it was by the utmost amenity of manners, rendered 
 liim an object of love and admiration, even in his 
 prison. Of his conduct there I have had, well au- 
 thenticated, some very curious anecdotes. 
 
 One day, previous to his trial, as the governor was 
 going his rounds, he entered Emmett's room rather 
 abruptly ; and observing a remarkable expression in 
 his countenance, he apologized for the interruption. 
 He had a fork affixed to his little deal table, and ap- 
 pended to it there was a tress of hair. " You see,^' 
 said he to the keeper, " how innocently I am occupi- 
 ed. This little tress has long been dear to roe, and I 
 am plaiting it to wear in my bosom on the day of my 
 execution !" On the day of that fatal event, there 
 was found sketched by his own hand, with a pen anji 
 
i90 APPENDIX. 
 
 ink, upon that very table, an admirable likeness of 
 himself, the head severed from the body, which lay 
 near it, surrounded by the scaffold, the axe, and all 
 the frightful paraphernalia of a high treason execu- 
 tion. What a strange union of tenderness, enthusi- 
 asm, and fortitude, do not the above traits of charac- 
 ter exhibit ! His fortitude, indeed,never for an instant 
 forsook him. On the night previous to his death, he 
 slept as soundly as ever ; and when the fat.al morning 
 dawned he arose, knelt down and prayed, ordered 
 some milk, which he drank, wrote two letters, (one to 
 Jhis brother in America, and the other to the secreta- 
 ry of state, inclosing it • and then desired the sheriffs 
 to be informed that he was ready. When ihey came 
 into his room, he said he had two requests to make — 
 one, that his arms might be left as loose as possible, 
 ^vhich was liumanely and instantly acceded to. "I 
 make the other," said he," not under any idea that it 
 can be granted, but that it may be held in remen> 
 brance that I have made it — it is, that I may be per- 
 mitted to die in my uniform."* This of course could 
 not be allowed ; and the request seemed to have had 
 no other object than to show that he gloried in the 
 •duse for which he was to suffer. A remarkable ex- 
 ample of his power both over himself and others oc- 
 curred at this melancholy moment. He was passing 
 out, attended by the sheriffs, and preceded by the 
 executioner — in one of the passages stood the turnkey 
 who had been personally assigned to him during his 
 imprisonment : this poor fellow loved him in his heart, 
 and the tears were streaming from his eyes in torrents. 
 Emmett paused for a moment ; his hands were not at 
 liberty — he kissed his cheek — and the man, who had 
 been for years the inmate of a dungeon, habituated to 
 the scenes of horror, and hardened against their 
 
 * Tlie colour of the rebel uniform was green. 
 
AfPENBIX. 29i 
 
 operation, fell senseless at his feet. Before his eyes 
 had opened again upon this world, those of the 
 youthful sufferer had closed on it forever. Such is a 
 brief sketch of the man who^originated the last state tri- 
 als in which Mr. Curran acted as an advocate. Upon his 
 character, of course, different parties will.pass differ- 
 ent opinions. Here he suffered the death of a traitor 
 — in America his memory is as that of a martyr, and 
 a full length portrait of him, trampling on a crown, is 
 one of their most popular sign-posts. Of his high 
 honor Mr. Curran had perhaps even an extravagant 
 opinion. Speaking of him to me one day, he said, 
 "I would have believed the word of Emmett as soon 
 as the oath of any one I ever knew." Our conversa- 
 tion originated in reference to some expressions said 
 to have fallen from him during his trial, reflecting on 
 Mr. Plunket, who was at that time solicitor general. 
 However, the fact is, that Mr. Plunket's enemies in- 
 vented the whole story. — Emmett never, even by im- 
 plication, made the allusion ; and I am very happy 
 that my minute inquiries on the subject enable me 
 to add an humble tribute to the name of a man who 
 is at once an ornament to his profession and his coun- 
 try — a man whom Mr. Curran himself denominated 
 the L'ish GylippuSy '• in whom," said he, " were con- 
 centrated all the energies and all the talents of the 
 nation." It is quite wonderful with what malignanf; 
 industry the enemies of integrity and genius circula- 
 ted this calumny upon Mr. Plunket. But the Irish na- 
 tional aptitude for scandal has unfortunately now be- 
 come naturalized into a proverb ! Very far is it from 
 my intention to diso1)ey the last request of Emmett, 
 by attempting to place any inscription upon his tomb 
 — that must await the pen of an impartial posterity ; 
 and to that posterity his fate will go, were there no 
 other page to introduce it than that of the inspired 
 author of Lalla Rookh, who was his fi'iend and op- 
 
292 APPENDIX. 
 
 temporary in college, and who thus most beautifully 
 alludes to him in his Irish Melodies : 
 
 O breathe not his name ! let it sleep in the shade 
 Where, cold and iinlionoured, his relics are laid ! 
 3ad, silent and dark, be the tears that we shed, 
 As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. 
 
 But fhe-night dew that falls, though in silence it weep*', 
 Sliall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps".: 
 And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, 
 *%all long keep his memory green in our souls. 
 
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