decide whether this freedom shall yet survive, or be covered
with a funeral pall, and wrapped in eternal gloom. It is
not necessary to await your determiruition. In the solicitude
you feel to prove yourselves worthy oi" such a trust, everj,
thou-rht of what is afU^cting your welfare, every apprehension
oi' danger must vanish, and you are iuii)atient to iningle in
the baUle of the civilized world. Go then, ye defenders of
UNIVERSALITY OF CONSCIENCE. 255
your country, accompanied with every auspicious omen ;
advance with ahicrity into tlie field, where God himself" mus-
ters the hosts of war. Relifrion is too much interested in
your success, not to lend you her aid ; she will shed over this
enterprise her selectest influence. While you are engaged
in tlie field, many will repair to the closet, many to the
sanctuary ; the faithi'ul ol" every name will employ that
prayer which has power with God ; the feehle hands which
are unequal to any other weapon, will grasp the sword of" the
spirit ; and from myriads ol" humble, contrite hearts, the
voice of intercession, supplication, and weeping, will mingle
in its ascent to heaven wiih the shout of battle and the shock
of arms.
XXXI.-UNIVERSALITY OF CONSCIENCE.
CHALMERS.
This theology of conscience has been greatly obscured, but
never, in any country, or at any period in the history of the
world, has it been wholly obliterated. We behold the ves-
tiges of it in the simple theology of the desert ; and, perhaps,
more distinctly there, than in the complex su[)erstitioiis of an
arlilicial and civilized heathenism In cuntiiniation of this,
We might quote the invocations to the Great Spirit from the
wilds of North America. But, indeed, in every quarter of
the globe, where missionaries have held converse with
savages, even with the rndest of nature's cliildren — when
sjjeaking on the topics of sin and juilginent, they did not
speak to them in vocables unknown. And as this sense of a
universal law and a Supr^-me Lawgiver never waned into
total extinction among the tribes of f"erocious and untamed
wanderers — so neither was it altogether stifled by the refined
and intricate polytheism of more enlightened nations. When
the guilty Emj)erois ol Home were tempest-driven by remorse
and tear, it was not that they trembled before a spectre of
tlieir own imagination. VVHicn terror mixed, which it often
did, with the rage and cruelty of Nero, it was the theology
o( conscience which haunted him. It was not the suggestion
ot" a capricious f"aiiey which gave him the disturbance — but
a voice issuing iiom the deep recesses of a moral nature, aa
256 THE BOOK OF ELOQUENCE.
Stable and uniform througfhout the species as islhe material
structure of humanity ; and in the lineaments of which we
may read that there is a moral regimen among nu-n, and
therefore a moral governor who hath institnled, and who
presides over it. Therefore it was that these imperial des-
pots, the worst and haughtiest of recorded monarchs, stood
aghast at the spectacle of their own worthlessness.
This is not a local or a geographical notion. It is a uni-
versal feeling — to be found wherever men are fonnd, be-
cause interwoven with the constitution of humanity. It is
not, therefore, the peculiarity of one creed or of one country.
It circulates at large throughout the family of man. We
can trace it in the theology of savage life ; nor is it M'holly
overborne by the artificial theology of a more complex and
idolatrous paganism. Neither crime nor civihzation cari ex-
tinguish it; and, whether in the " conscientia scelerum" of
the fierce and frenzied Catiline, or in the tranquil contem-
plative musings of Socrates and Cicero, we find the impres-
sion of at once a righteous and reigning Sovereign.
XXXIL— ON PARLIAMENTARY REFORM.
FOX.
Tt is asked, whether liberty has not gained much of late
years, and whether the popular branch ought not therefore to
be content ? To tins, I answer, that, if liberty has gahied
much, power has gained more.' Power has been indefatiga-
ble, and unwearied in its encroachments ; everything has
run in that direction throngh the whole course of the present
reign.- Nothing, therefore, I say, has been gained to the people,
whilst the constant current has run towards the crown ; and
God knows what is to be the consequence, both to the crown
and the country. I believe we are come to the last moment
of possible remedy. I believe that at this moment the ene-
mies of both are few ; but I firmly believe, that what has
been seen in Ireland, will be experienced also here ; and that,
if we are to go in the same career with convention bills and
acts of exasperation of all kinds, the few will soon become
the many, and that we shall have to pay a severe retribution
for our present pride. What a noble lord said some time
CHARACTER OF JUSTICE. 257
ago of France, may be applicable to this very subject.
What, said he, negotiate with France ? With men, vvliose
hands are reeking with the blood of their sovereign ? What,
sliall we degrade ourselves by going to Paris, and there ask-
ing in humble diplomatic language to be on good understand-
ing with them ? Gentlemen will remember these lofty
words ; and yet we have come to this humiliation ; we have
negotiated with France ! and I shall not be surprised to see
the noble lord himself going to Paris, not at the head of his
regiment, but on a diplomatic commission to those very regi-
cides, to pray to be on a good understanding with them.
Shall we then be blind to the lessons, which the events of
the world exhibit to our view ? Pride, obstinacy, and insult,
must end in concessions, and those concessions must be hum-
ble in proportion to our unbecoming pride.
XXXIIL— CHARACTER OF JUSTICE.
SHERIDAN,
Mr. Hastings, in the magnificent paragraph which con-
cludes this communication, says, " 1 hope it will not be a de-
parture from official language to say, that the majesty of
justice ought not to be ap])roached without solicitation. 8hc
ought not to descend to inflame or provoke, but to withhold
her judgment, until she is called on to determine." But,
my lords, do you, the judges of this land, and the expoiuiders
of its rightful laws, do you approve of this mockery, and call
it tlie character of justice, which takes the form of right to
excite wrong? No, my lords, justice is not thi.s halt and
miserable object ; it is not the inellective bauble of an Indian
jiagnd ; it is not the portentous phantom of despair ; it is not
like any fabled monster, formed in the eclipse of reason, and
fiiuml in some unhallowed grove of superstitious darkness, and
jiolitical dismay ! No, my lords. In the happy rever.se of
all this, I turn from the disgusting caricature to the real im-
age ! Justice I have now before me, august and pure I the
abstract idea of all that would be perfect in the spirits and
the aspirings of men I where the mind rises, where the heart
expands ; where the countenance is ever placid and benign ;
where her favorite attitude is to stoop to the unfortunate ; to
258 THE BOOK OF ELOQUENCE.
hear their cry and to help them ; to rescue and relieve, to
succor and save ; majestic from its mercy ; venerable from its
utility ; uplifted, without pride ; firm, without obduracy ; be-
neficent in each preference ; lovely, though in her frown I
On that justice I rely ; deliberate and sure, abstracted
from all party purpose and political speculation, not on
words, but on facts. You, my lords, who hear me, I conjure,
by those rights it is your best privileofe to preserve ; by that
fame it is your best pleasure to inherit ; by all those feelings
which refer to the first term in the series of existence, the
original compact of our nature — our controlling rank in the
creation. This is the call on all, to administer to truth and
equity, as they would satisfy the laws and satisfy themselves
— with the most exalted bliss possible or perceivable tor our
nature, the selt-approving consciousness of virtue, when the
condemnation we look for will be one of the most ample
mercies accomplished for mankind since the creation of the
â– world I
XXXIV.— THE HOUR OF DESTINY.
DLBLIX .VATTOX.
The last plank has now. indeed, been shivered, to which
we clung with snch di-spairing Ikith. The last drop added to
the cup of insult and misery, and it has overflowed. Men
of Ireland, the hour of trial and deliverance has at last been
struck by Providence. Calmly contemplate all that God, hu-
manity, and your outraged country now demand of you, aiul
then resolutely dare, heroically conquer, or bravely die.
What have you to fear ? Nothing in Heaven, f()r you are
justified before (rod. You may kneel by your uplifled baltle-
flag, and call Him to witness how you have endured every
wrong— suti'ered, unrevenged, every infamv — and sought re-
dress only with streaming eyes and clasped hautls, and pas-
sionate prayers lor justice I justice ! The cry has gone up to
heaven, and entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth,
but it could not melt the heart of man. We appeal to God,
then, in the day of battle : we claim his vengeance for our
wrongs ; for has he not said : " Vengeance is mine, and I
will repay, saith the Lord ?" Do you fear the judgment of
men ? Look round the earth — every nation cheers you on
THE HOUR OF DESTINY. 259
with words of hope and sympathy and encouraorement. Up-
litt your battle-ria?, and from the two hemispheres, and
across the two oceans, not words alone, but brave hearts and.
armed hands will come to aid you.
Ireland 1 Ireland ! it is no petty insurrection — no local
quarrel — no party triumph that summons you to the field.
The destinies of the world — the advancement of the human
race — depend now on your courasre and success ; for if you
have courao:e, success must follow I Tyranny, and despot-
ism, and injustice, and bigotry, are gathering together the
chains that have been flung off' by every other nation of
Europe, an<l are striving to bind them upon us — the ancient,
brave, free Irish people. It is a holy war to which we are
called — a war against all that is opposed to justice ami hap-
piness and freedom. Conquer, and tyranny is subdued for-
ever. It is a death-struggle now between the oppressor and
the slave — between the murderer and his victim. Strike I —
strike I Another instant, and his foot will be upon your
neck — his dagger at your heart. Will he listen to prayers ?
Will he melt at tears ? We have looked to heaven, and
eurth, and asked, '"Is there no way to save Ireland but by
this dark path ?" We have taken counsel of misery, and
famine, and plague, and said, " Will ye not plead lor us ?
Will not horror grant what justice denies?" But they die I
— the)^ die ! The strong men, and the mothers, and the pale
children, down they fall, thousands upon thousands — a death-
ruin of human corses upon the earth, and their groans vi-
brate with a fearful dissonance through the country, and
their death-M'ail shrieks along the universe, but no pity dims
the eye of the stern murderer who watches their agonies.
Then arose a band of martvrs, and they stood between the
livinir and the deaii, and preaclud the truth, such as the
world has known from the beginning, only they preached it
more eloquently, for they were young and gifted, and genius
burned in their eyes, and patriotism in their hearts — and
God has filled these young noble spirits with a lofty enthusi-
asm for the divinest purpose — the regeneration of their coun-
try. But what care they for genius, or virtue, or patriotism ?
• — these iron macliines. called governments, wlio '' grind
down men's bones to a pale unanimity." So they trembled
at the voices of these young preachers, and strove to crush
them by cunninir and ingenious torture- that made lite more
terrible even limn death ; and soon there were noble limbs
260 THE BOOK OF ELOQUENCE.
writhing in prison cells ; and proud hearts beating in ignomin-
ious exile. And now with the groans of the dying, there
went up from our fatal land the shrieks of despairing
mothers, and the weeping of young wives left desolate by
lonely hearths, and the bewildered cries of orphaned children
when they heard they had no father.
XXXV.— THE SAME— CONTINUED.
DUBLIN NATION.
What then ? Is there no hope ? Will ye drag on a
wretched existence, degraded in the eyes of Europe — making
Ireland a by- word amongst the nations ? Will ye sufier
these things, that so your children may rise up in after years
and say, — Was it thus, and thus, when ye were young men,
and ye never lifted your arms to prevent it ? Did ye sell not
only the lives of your brothers, but also the honor of your
country ? Have ye left nothing but a heritage of shame ?
No I (iod has not utterly forsaken us. He has left us one
path, but one. There is no other. Yon must march on it,
or the ruin of your country, the death of the living, and the
vengeance of the unavenged dead will be on your souls. But
here solemnly we acquit the English people of all participation
in forcing on us this dreadful alternative — slavery or war.
Not the brave, generous, English people, but the tyrant, im-
becile ministry are guilty of thus recklessly plunging their
own nation and ours into the nmrderous collision.
One way is indeed yet left, one noble way, and a halle-
lujah of praise might rise to heaven in place of the clash of
arms and the groans of the dying. Let the tlueen come with
all the proud prerogatives of royalty. Let her unbar the
prison-gates, restore the exiles to their homes, restore their
rights to a nation. A woman can yet save thousands from
destruction. If she will not, then amongst the miserable in
the kingdom, there will be one moi-e miserable than all.
That (olueen upon her throne — a crowned Medea — with the
diamonds on her bmw, but the blood of her peoj)le, her chil-
dren, on her soul. Oh ! let thy heart speak, young Q/Ueen,
there is yet time ; hesitate — and the page of history that
T£IE nOCR OF DESTINY. 261
notes thy rcifrn will be scarcely ligible to posterity, for the
blood of thy subjects will have stained it.
Rise, then, men of Ireland, since Providence so wills it.
Rise in your citie> and in your fields, on your green hills, in
your valleys, by your dark mountain passes, by your rivers
and lakes, and ocean-washed shoi'es. Rise as a nation.
England has dissevered the bond of allegiance. Rise, not
now to demand justice from a foreign kingdom, but to make
Ireland an independent kingdom forever. It is no light task,
(rod has appointed you. It is a work of trial and temptation.
Oh ! be steadfast in the trial — be firm to resist the temptation.
You have to combat injustice, therefore you must yourselves
be just. You have to overthrow a despot power, but you
must establish order, not suffer anarchy. Remember, it is
not against individuals, or parties, or sects, you wage war, but
against a system ; overthrow — have no mercy on that system.
Down with it ; dowii with it, even to tlie ground ; but show
mercy to the individuals who are but the instruments of that
system. You look round upon aland — your own land — trod-
den down, and trampled, and insulted, and on a persecuted,
despairng pL'ople. It is your right arm must raise up the
trampled land — must make her again beautiful, and stately,
and rich in blessings. Elevate that despairing people, and
make them free and happy ; but teach them to be majestic
in their force, generous in their clemency, noble in their
triumph. It is a holy mission. Holy must be your motives
and your acts, if you would fulfil it. Act as if your soul's
salvation hung on each deed, and it will, for we stand already
in the shadow of eternity. For us is the combat, but not for
us, perhaps, the triumph. Many a noble heart will lie cold
many a throbbing pulse will be stilled, ere the cry of victory
will arise I It is a solemn thought, that now is the hour of
destiny, when the fetters of seven centuries may at last bo
broken, and by you, men of this generation ; by you, men of
Ireland 1 You are God's instruments ; many of you must be
freedom's martyrs. Oh ! be worthy of the name ; and as
you act as men, as patriots, and as Chi-istians, so will the
blessing rest upon your life here, when you lay it down a
sacrifice for Ireland upon the red battle-field.
262 THE BOOK OF ELOQUENCE.
XXXVL— VINDICATION FROM TREASON.
m'manus.
My lords, I trust I am enoupfh of a Christian, and enouoh
of a man, to miderstand the awl'ul responsibility of the ques-
tion tliat has been put to me. My lords, standing: on this
my native soil — standinof in an Irish court of justice, and
"before the Irish nation, I have much to say why sentence of
death, or the sentence of the law sliould not be passed upon
me. But, my lords, on enlerinjr this court, I placed my life
— and what is of much more importance to me, my honor —
in the hands of two advocates ; and, my lords, if 1 had ten
thousand lives, and ten thousand honors. T would be content
to place them under the watchful and glorious genius of the
one, and the hi<rh letrul abihty of the other, — my Irrds, I am
content. In tliat reijard I have nothinp: to say. But I have
a word to say, which no advocate, however anxious, can utter
for me. I have this to say. my lords : that whatever part I
may have taken through any struggle for my country's inde-
pendence — whatever part I may have acted in that short
career, I stand before your lordships now with a free heart,
and with a light conscience, ready to abide the issue of your
sentence. And now, my lords, perhaps this is the fittest time
that I may put one sentiment on record, and it is this: —
Standing, as I do, between this dock and the scaHold, it may
be now, or to-morrow, or it may be never ; but whatever the
result may be, I have this sentiment to put on record that
in any part- 1 have taken, I have not b'en actuated by ani-
mosity to Englishmen ; for I have spent some of the happiest
and most prosperous days of my liie there, and in no part of
my career have I been actuated by enmity to Englishmen,
however much I may have felt the injustice of English rule
in this land. My lords, I have nothing more to say. It is
not for having loved England less, but for having loved Ire-
land more, that I stand now before you.
XXXVII.— VINDICATION FROM TREASON
MEAGHER.
It is my intention to say a few words only. I desire that
the last act of a proceeding which has occupied so much of
VINDICATION FROM TRE '-SON. 263
the public time should be of short duration. Nor have I
tlie indelicate wish to close the dreary ceremony of a State
prosecution Avith a vain display of words. Did I fear that
hereafter, when I shall be no more, the country I have tried
to serve would think ill of me, I might indeed avail myself
of tin's solemn moment to vindicate my sentiments and my
conduct. But I have no such fear. The countiy will judge
of those sentiments and that conduct, in a light far difiiireiit
from that in which the jury by wliich 1 have been convicted
will view thein ; and by the country, the sentence which you,
my lords, are about to pronounce, will be remembered only
as the severe and solemn attestation of my rectitude and
truth. Whatever be the language in which that sentence
be spoken, I know that my fate will meet with sympathy,
and that my memory will be honored. In speaking thus,
accuse me not, my lords, of an indecorous presumption. To
the efi'orts 1 have made in a just and noble cause, I ascribe
no vain importance — nor do I claim for those etlbrts any
high reward. But it so happens, and it will ever happen
so, that those who have tried to serve their country, no mat-
ter how weak the effort may have been, are sure to receive
the thanks and blessings of its peojde. With my country,
then, I leaA'^e my memory — my sentiments — my acts — proud-
ly feeling that they require no vindication from me this day.
A jury of my countrymen, it is true, have found me guilty
of the crime for which I stood indicted. For this I entertain
not the slightest feeling of resentment towards them. Influ-
enced as they must have been by the charge of the Lord
Thief Justice, they could have found no other verdict.
What of that charge ? Any strong observations on it, I feel
sincerely would ill befit the solemnity of this scene ; but I
would earnestly beseech of j'ou, my lord — you who preside
on that bench — when the passions and prejudices of this hour
have passed away, to appeal to your own conscience, and to
ask of it, was your charge, as it ought to have been, impar-
tial and indiii'erent between the subject and the crown ?. My
lords, you may deem this language unbecoming in rne, and,
ji'-rhaps, it may seal my fate. But I am here to speak the
truth, whatever it may cost; I am liere to regret nothing I
have ever done ; — to retract nothing I have ever said. I am
here to crave, with no lying lip, the life I consecrate to the
liberty of my country. F;ir from it, even here — here, where
the thiei, the lib rtine, the murderer, have left their foot-
264 THE BOOK OF ELOQUENCE.
prints in the dust ; here, on this spot, where the shadows of
death surround me, and from which I see my early grave in
an unanointed soil opened to receive me — even here, encir-
cled by these terrors, the hope M'hich has beckoned me to the
perilous sea upon which I have been wrecked, still consoles,
animates, enraptures me.
No, I do not despair of my poor old country — her peace,
her liberty, her glory. For that country I can do no moi'e
than bid her hope. To lift this island up — to make her a
benefactor to humanity, instead of being the meanest beggar
in the world, to restore to her her native powers and her an-
cient constitution, this has been my ambition, and this ambi-
tion has been my crime. Judged by the law of England, I
know this crime entails the penalty of death ; but the history
of Ireland explains this crime, and justifies it. Judged by
that history, I am no criminal, I deserve no punishment.
Judged by that history, the treason of which I stand convict-
ed, loses all its guilt, is sanctioned as a duty, will be en-
nobled as a sacrifice. With these sentiments, my lord, I
await the sentence of the Court. Having done what I felt
to be my duty — having spoken what I felt to be the truth,
as I have done on every other occasion of my short career, I
now bid farewell to the country of my birth, my passion, and
my death — the country whose misfortunes have invoked my
sympatliies — whose factions I have sought to still — whose in-
tellect I have prompted to a lofty aim — whose freedom has
been my fatal dream. I offer to that country, as a proof of
the love I bear her, and the sincerity with which I thought
and spoke and struggled for her freedom — the life of a young
heart, and with that life all the hopes, the honors, the endear-
ments of a happy and an honored home. Pronounce, then,
my lords, the sentence which the laws direct, and T will be
prepared to hear it. I trust I shall be prepared to meet its
execution. I hope to be able, with a pure heart and perfect
composure, to appear before a higher tribunal — a tribunal
where a jndge of infinite goodness as well as of justice will
preside, and where, my lords, many, many of the judgments
of this world will be reversed.
INFLUENCE OF THE DUTCH. 2G5
XXXVIII.— INFLUENCE OF THE DUTCH.
BOYTON.
Theke is something in the history of the Dutch people
calculated to attract the interest of" every cultivated mind.
Independent of all mere abstract considerations, we cannot
but recollect that the brightest passages iu British history were
those in wliicli England and Holland were wrilten in the
same page — of Elizabeth, the founder of our empire, and the
vindicator of our faith — of Cromwell, who made the name
of Englishman respected as ever was that of ancient Roman
— and the glories of Blenheim, and the laurels of Waterloo,
were won along with Dutch allies, and against French foes.
On one occasion alone, were we united with the French
against the Hollanders ; and abroad or at home, in our foreign
or our domestic relations, it is the darkest and the basest
page in the tablets of our histories — I allude to the reign of
Charles the Second. With a profligate, an unconstitutional,
and a popish government at home, the name of England
was dishonored abroad. The Dutch fleets swept the seas,
our shipping was destroyed even upon the waters of the
Thames, and for once in our history a foreign fleet arrived