Emmet’s speech from the dock
Posted by Jim on September 22, 2018
Robert Emmet, United Irishman and the leader of the rebellion on 1803,
was tried for high treason in Green Street courthouse, 215 years ago
this week. He was found guilty, and sentenced to be hung, drawn and
quartered. The execution was carried the next day in Thomas Street.
Emmet was found guilty after what was essentially a show trial. The
clerk of the crown read the indictment, and stated the verdict, before
asking: “What have you, therefore, now to say why judgment of death and
execution shall not be awarded against you according to law?”
This was his response, with the interruptions of the judge, Norbury,
also recorded.
What have I to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced on
me, according to law? I have nothing to say which can alter your
predetermination, not that it would become me to say with any view to
the mitigation of that Sentence which you are here to pronounce, and by
which I must abide. But I have that to say which interests me more than
life, and which you have laboured, as was necessarily 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 about to utter. I have no
hope that I can anchor my character in the breast of a court constituted
and trammelled 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 rude storm by which it is at present
buffeted.
Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty by your
tribunal, I should bow in silence, meet the fate that awaits me without
a murmur; but the sentence of the law which delivers my body to the
executioner, will, through the ministry of the law, labour in its own
vindication to consign my character to obloquy, for there must be guilt
somewhere — whether in the sentence of the court, or in the catastrophes
posterity must determine. A man in my situation, my lords, has not only
to encounter the difficulties of fortune, and the force of power over
minds which it has corrupted or subjugated, but the difficulties of
established prejudice. The man dies, but his memory lives. That mine may
not perish, that it may live in the respect of my countrymen, I seize
upon this opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the charges
alleged against me. 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 man is over the beasts of the forest — which set man upon his
brother, 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 government which is steeled to barbarity by
the cries of the orphans and the tears of the widows which it has made.
[Norbury — “The weak and wicked enthusiasts who feel as you feel are
unequal to the accomplishment of their wild designs”.]
I appeal to the 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 the emancipation of my
country from the superinhuman oppression under which she has so long and
too patiently travailed; and I confidently and assuredly hope that, wild
and chimerical as it may appear, there is still union and strength in
Ireland to accomplish this noblest enterprise. Of this I speak with the
confidence of intimate knowledge, and with the consolation that
appertains to that confidence, think not, my lords, that I say this for
the petty gratification of giving you a transitory uneasiness. A man who
never yet raised his voice to assert a lie will not hazard his character
with posterity by asserting a falsehood on a subject so important to his
country, and on an occasion like this. Yes, my lords, a man who does not
wish to have his epitaph written until his country is 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.
[Norbury — “You proceed to unwarrantable lengths, in order to
exasperate or delude the unwary, and circulate opinions of the most
dangerous tendency, for purposes of mischief”.]
Again I say that what I have spoken was not intended for your lordship,
whose situation I commiserate rather than envy — my expressions were for
my countrymen. If there is a true Irishman present, let my last words
cheer him in the hour of his affliction —
[Norbury — “What you have hitherto said confirms and justifies the
verdict of the jury”.]
I have always understood it to be the duty of a judge, when a prisoner
has been convicted, to pronounce the sentence of the law. I have also
understood that judges sometimes think it their duty to hear with
patience, and to speak with humanity; to exhort the victim of the laws,
and to offer, with tender benignity, their opinions of the motives by
which he was actuated in the crime of which he was adjudged guilty. That
a judge has thought it his duty so to have done, I have no doubt; but
where is that boasted freedom of your institutions — where is the vaunted
impartiality, clemency, and mildness of your courts of justice, if an
unfortunate prisoner, whom your policy, and not your justice, is about
to deliver into the hands of the executioner, is not suffered to explain
his motives sincerely and truly, and to vindicate the principles by
which he was actuated?
My lords, it may be a part of the system of angry justice to bow a man’s
mind by humiliation to the purposed ignominy of the scaffold; but worse
to me than the purposed shame or the scaffold’s terrors would be the
shame of such foul and unfounded imputations as have been laid against
me in this court. You, my lord, are a judge; I am the supposed culprit.
I am a man; you are a man also. By a revolution of power we might change
places, though we could never 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 calumniate it? Does the sentence of death, which your
unhallowed policy inflicts upon my body, also condemn my tongue to
silence and my reputation to reproach? Your executioner may abridge the
period of my existence, but, while I exist, I shall not forbear to
vindicate my character and motives from your aspersions; as a man to
whom fame is dearer than life, I will make the last use of that life in
doing justice to that reputation which is to live after me, and which is
the only legacy I can leave to those I honour and love, and for whom I
am proud to perish.
As men, my lord, we must appear on the great day at one common tribunal,
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
actuated by the purest motives — my country’s oppressor, or —
[Norbury — “Stop, sir! Listen to the sentence of the law”.]
My lord, shall a dying man be denied the legal privilege of exculpating
himself in the eyes of the community from an undeserved reproach thrown
upon him during his trial, by charging him with ambition, and attempting
to cast away for a paltry consideration the liberties of his country?
Why did your lordship insult me? Or rather, why insult justice in
demanding of me why sentence of death should not be pronounced? I know,
my lord, that form prescribes that you should ask the question. The form
also presumes the 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 were empanelled. Your
lordships are but the priests of the oracle. I submit to the sacrifice;
but I insist on the whole of the forms.
I am charged with being an emissary of France. An emissary of France!
And for what end? It is alleged that I wish to sell the independence of
my country; and for what end? Was this the object of my ambition? And is
this the mode by which a tribunal 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
country’s independence to France! And for what? A change of masters? No;
but for my ambition. Oh, my country! Was it personal ambition that
influenced me? Had it been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my
education and fortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have
placed myself amongst the proudest of your oppressors? My country was my
idol. To it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment; and
for it I now offer myself, O God! No, my lords; 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 the patricide, whose
reward is the ignominy of existing with an exterior of splendour and a
consciousness of depravity. It was the wish of my heart to extricate my
country from this doubly-riveted despotism — I wish to place her
independence beyond the reach of any power on earth. I wish to exalt her
to that proud station in the world which Providence had destined her to
fill. Connection with France was, indeed, intended, but only so far as
mutual interest would sanction or require.
Were the French to assume any authority inconsistent with the purest
independence, it would be the signal for their destruction. We sought
their aid — and we sought it as we had assurances we should obtain it — as
auxiliaries in war, and allies in peace. Were the French to come as
invaders or enemies, uninvited by the wishes of the people, I should
oppose them to the utmost of my strength. Yes! My countrymen, 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 would animate my countrymen to immolate them in their boats
before they had contaminated the soil of my country. If they succeeded
in landing, and if forced to retire before superior discipline, I would
dispute every inch of ground, raze every house, burn every blade of
grass; the last spot on which the hope of freedom should desert me,
there would I hold, and the last of liberty should be my grave.
What I could not do myself in my fall, I should leave as a last charge
to my countrymen to accomplish; because I should feel conscious that
life, any more than death, is dishonourable when a foreign nation holds
my country in subjection. But it was not as an enemy that the succours
of France were to land. I looked, indeed, for the assistance of France;
I wished to prove to France and to the world that Irishmen deserved to
be assisted — that they were indignant at slavery, and ready to assert the
independence and liberty of their country; I wished to procure for my
country the guarantee which Washington procured for America — to procure
an aid which, by its example, would be as important as its valour;
disciplined, gallant, pregnant with science and experience; that of
allies who would perceive the good, and polish the rough points of our
character. They would come to us as strangers, and leave us as friends,
after sharing in our perils, and elevating our destiny. These were my
objects; not to receive new taskmasters, but to expel old tyrants. And
it was for these ends I sought aid from France; because France, even as
an enemy, could not be more implacable than the enemy already in the
bosom of my country.
[Norbury — “You are making an avowal of dreadful treasons, and of a
determined purpose to have persevered in them, which I do believe, has
astonished your audience”.]
I have been charged with that importance in the efforts to emancipate my
country, as to be considered the keystone of the combination of
Irishmen, or, as your lordship expressed it, “the life and blood of the
conspiracy”. You do me honour overmuch; you have given to a subaltern
all the credit of a superior. There are men engaged in this conspiracy
who are not only superior to me; but even to your own conception of
yourself, my lord; men before the splendour of whose genius and virtues
I should bow with respectful deference, and who would think themselves
disgraced by shaking your bloodstained hand —
[Norbury — “You have endeavoured to establish a wicked and bloody
provisional government”.]
What, my lord! shall you tell me, on the passage to the scaffold, which
that tyranny, of which you are only the intermediary executioner, has
erected for my murder, that I am accountable for all the blood that has
been and will be shed in this struggle of the oppressed against the
oppressor? Shall you tell me this, and must I be so very as slave as not
to repel it?
[Norbury — “A different conduct would have better become one who had
endeavoured to overthrow the laws and liberties of his country”.]
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 mortality here? By you, too, who if it were possible to
collect all the innocent blood that you have shed in your unhallowed
ministry in one great reservoir, your lordship might swim in it.
[Norbury — “I exhort you not to depart this life with such sentiments
of rooted hostility to your country as those which you have expressed’.]
Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with dishonour; let no man
attaint my memory by believing that I could have engaged in any cause
but that of my country’s liberty and independence; or that I could have
become the pliant minion of power in the oppression and misery of my
countrymen. The proclamation of the Provisional Government speaks for my
views; no inference can be tortured from it to countenance barbarity or
debasement at home, or subjection, humiliation, or treachery from
abroad. I would not have submitted to a foreign oppressor, for the same
reason that I would resist the domestic tyrant. In the dignity of
freedom, I would have fought upon the threshold of my country, and its
enemy should only enter by passing over my lifeless corpse. And am I,
who lived but for my country, who have subjected myself to the dangers
of the jealous and watchful oppressor, and now to the bondage of the
grave, only to give my countrymen their rights, and my country her
independence — am I to be loaded with calumny and not suffered to resent
it? No, God forbid!
[Here Norbury told Emmet that his sentiments and language disgraced
his family and his education, but more particularly his father, Dr.
Emmet, who was a man, if alive, that would not countenance such
opinions. To which Emmet replied: ]
If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the concerns and
cares of those who were dear to them in this transitory life, O! ever
dear and venerated 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
about 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 [the soldiery filled and
surrounded the Sessions House] — it circulates warmly and unruffled
through the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you
are now bent to destroy, for purposes so grievous that 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 SILENCE. Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man
who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or
ignorance asperse them. Let them and me rest in obscurity and peace, and
my name remain uninscribed, until other times and other men can do
justice 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. I have done.