On the kind of case we have seen, Mr. Coigly was convicted and died. From the moment of his conviction he began to prepare for death; and his preparations were such as proved him to have deserved a happier fate. Having taken an affectionate and dignified leave of the other prisoners and his friends, he applied himself with the activity and vigour of a man who has a favourite pursuit to subjects by which the few hours he had to live might be made useful to others. He lamented that he had trusted his defence out of his own hands, and to counteract the public part of the mischiefs of his trial, was now his chief wish. But he was far from being insensible to his own interest, in its dearest part. He had an eager, perhaps an extreme anxiety for his fame. With views which were hence made up from public and private motives, he wrote a very long letter to a friend, in order to point out the chief errors of the trial. He then wrote a very affecting address to his own countrymen; and the hour of his death being very unexpectedly delayed, he seized upon the occasion to compose memoirs of his family and of his own life. He did not deceive himself respecting the causes of this delay; he knew there was no way to a reprieve, but one he disdained. In answer to his solicitor, who had conceived hopes (honourable to himself) of saving Coigly, when he communicated a portion of his hopes to him, he said "It is in vain to make any attempt in my favour."

cence of the prisoner, did he also mistake | then wrote a very affecting and noble letter the law in that amiable part of its character to his solicitor. Having taken copies of which enjoins the judge to be counsel for the these three letters, he ate his supper, and prisoner? or was there no monitor in his after his usual evening's devotions went to bed. breast to say, "Hold! be not an advocate Two gentlemen who had gone to Maidstone against the unfortunate man!" post, during the night, to attend his last moments, arrived early the next morning, and one of them was permitted by the gaoler, to visit Mr. Coigly, to receive his last wishes. Mr. Coigly said, "You do not find me very well prepared, as to strength, to discharge my important duty; I have had little sleep,t and my stomach is disordered. Yet I trust I shall not act unworthily." He spoke on several topics with dignity, and on some with vehemence. He complained, with a mixture of anger and sorrow, of the confessor who attended him. "We have not yet (he said) composed our differences, and I almost fear we shall not." This supposition moved him extremely. "But his conduct (he said) is not only inconsistent with his situation as a clergyman and a gentleman, but interferes with the devotions in which I would gladly, pass my time with him." He left that subject for another; but he afterward said, "He (the clergyman) not only insists upon my confessing the treasonable act with which I am charged, which I expect him to do, but he entreats me to accuse others." And then Mr. Coigly named persons, both in Ireland and here, whom the clergyman urged him to accuse. "He not only offered me (he continued) my life and my own terms, but he assailed me on the side of religion. I uniformly answered, I have no confessions to make. I just now said to him, I wish you would permit me to die in peace with you." The contests between Mr. Coigly and this gentleman seem to have been at times very bitter. The clergyman complained of some reports which were spread to his discredit concerning this subject, and desired Mr. Coigly to contradict them. He answered, "If you conduct yourself toward me as becomes your character, I will say something at the place of my execution, to remove the effects of those reports," Mr. Coigly added in speaking of this, "yet he persecutes me up to this moment."

On the evening of the 6th of June, the gaoler announced to him the arrival of the warrant, for his execution on the following morning at eleven o'clock. The gaoler had conceived a high esteem of him, and was greatly affected while he read the warrant; and Mr. Coigly, undisturbed at his own fate, endeavoured in the kindest manner to restore his tranquillity.

A few minutes before this, he had finished a letter to the attorney-general, and as soon as Mr. Watson (the gaoler) withdrew, he wrote a letter to the duke of Portland. He

That the judge did speculate on the case, and that very wildly, I call upon every person to see for himself (who has the power) in the judge's summing up; and that he pressed the result of his speculations inordinately on the jury, I prove by his own words-"Perhaps (he says) as to the first prisoner (Coigly) I have stated my own OPINION pretty strongly." -Orig. Ed.

The whole of these papers are in the press under the inspection of the gentlemen to whom Mr. Coigly committed them.-Orig. Ed. See the preceding tract.

These are the letters I have already alluded to. Orig. Ed.

He spoke successively with indignation and grief of calumnies concerning him that appeared in some of the papers. "Your presence (he said) relieves me from great anxiety. It would have been hard for me to die without a friend near me, on whose integrity I could rely to rescue my last moments from falsehood. But I contemplate a greater object in your presence. I am a murdered man, and I would not have my death thrown away, by its manner being belied." An eager love of fame was part of his sentiment at this

*See this letter, p. 240.

+He was kept awake by a large fire in the room, and the noisy conversation of two men who sat up with him. Orig. Ed.

moment, but it was lost in his greater passion | for the public benefit. While he spoke of his approaching death, which several times occurred, although it was plain he had fully estimated its many horrors, yet his feelings always rested on a nobler view of it, and his eye and countenance often expressed his exultation at his approaching triumph.

That he had a very ardent wish that his memory should be cherished in the bosom of his friends, will be seen by his attention to a circumstance that would not be expected to Occupy his thoughts in the very last hour of his life. He lamented that his friends could not be gratified with his portrait. Having stated that a gentleman of rank, whom he named, had employed a painter to take it, he said, "The proof that gentleman gave me of his esteem was very pleasing to me, but a brutal fellow has robbed me of the satisfaction of knowing that my portrait would be left with my friends both here and in Ireland. He is a captain of the volunteers of this town, and I believe a magistrate. When he knew what the painter came about, he took upon him to drive him from the prison."

penknife, it has been said they would not trust me with a penknife, lest I should cut my throat; but they little knew that I would not deprive myself of the glory of dying in this way." "His friend having quartered the orange and given him a piece of it, he desired him to keep the penknife for his sake. He continued to read standing for more than a quarter of an hour, when he knelt down and chaunted a psalm, and then concluded with a prayer which he spoke inwardly. During the service, his thoughts seemed wholly absorbed by the subject. In a prayer in which he called upon God for aid in his sufferings, he was much affected and wept. But when he chaunted the psalm, he seemed to be animated with hope. At the conclusion of the service, the clergyman renewed his discourse to him in a whisper. It was plain that Mr. Coigly was offended with a part of it. He shook his head, and in a solemn manner said, "No! no!" It was impossible to draw any safe conclusion as to the subject, but it was probable it was that on which the clergyman had been so importunate in the prison. At the close of it however, was a proposition to which Mr. He said, he had no wish left for his friends Coigly assented, for he bowed and said, to execute, but that his papers should be pub-"Yes, I will ;" and giving the clergyman lished, and a faithful account of his death. He added, "the attorney-general is privy to my murder. I hope you have courage to see that this fact is not kept back from the world." He sent his last thanks to his solicitor, of whose exertions in his behalf he spoke with gratitude; and then he said, "Farewell, till I see you again at the place of my execution!" About half past eleven o'clock he arrived at that place, in a hurdle; he had no hat on, he was without a neckcloth, and his shirt-collar was open. The day was extremely sultry, he had been half an hour in coming from the prison, and the trampling of the horses that drew the hurdle, and of the soldiers and multitude that surrounded it, had kept him covered with clouds of dust, and he appeared faint from these causes. A chain which confined him on his seat in the hurdle was taken away; and while that was doing, the gentleman who visited him in the prison, and had gone to the ground to wait for him, informed him that there were persons present who would give a faithful account of his conduct. He said, "I thank you and them." He held a prayerbook in his hand, and he rose and prepared to read part of the Roman service, but the clergyman who had attended him in prison, stood at his side speaking earnestly to him in a low voice, and for some minutes interfered with his devotions. He listened with patience, but with evident disapprobation of the subject of the discourse. When he began his devotions, he read aloud several prayers in the Latin tongue. In a few minutes, he took an orange from his pocket, and afterwards a penknife, but his arms being bound he could not cut the orange, and beckoning to his friend he said, "Open this orange with my

his prayer-book, he shook hands with him, and bade him farewell. He now stepped out of the hurdle, and his friend offered him a piece of the orange, which he took; and having eaten it, he bade him farewell. He walked up to the gaoler, who was on horseback at a few paces distance, and said, “Mr. Watson, farewell! God bless you! Your conduct to me has been very kind and generous, and I thank you for the many civilities you have shown me.-God bless you!" He shook hands with Mr. Watson; and then ascended the ladder with unshaken courage. As the executioner prepared the rope, the man said something that was probably an apology, for Mr. Coigly answered," Say nothing; you know you must do your duty." The executioner, when he was about to put the rope over his head, said, " You must turn your back, sir." Mr. Coigly bowed, and turned round. When the rope was round his neck and fastened to the tree, and his arms bound behind, he spoke in the following manner :

"MR. SHERIFF,"

[The sheriff approached, with his hat off.]

"Put on your hat, sir, (Mr. Coigly said) put on your hat.". [The sheriff stood with his hat off till Mr. Coigly concluded his address.]

"It is customary, you know, sir, in cases of this sort, for a person standing in my unfortunate situation, always to say something, more or less, to those who accompany him; but I do not think it requi

There can be no doubt this related to the words he spoke in behalf of the clergyman in his dying address. Orig. Ed.

site to say so much as I otherwise should, upon the present occasion, because I have taken the pains already, under my own hand, to draw a regular declaration-a convincing thing it will be, I think, to the world at large -and a sketch also of my unfortunate and afflicted life: I have sent them both to a friend in London, and I hope they will be published. I have therefore now only to make my last and solemn declaration :

"I never was the bearer of any letter, paper, writing, or address, or message either written, printed or verbal, to the Directory of France, or to any person on their behalf of which I am accused, nor has any person for me been such bearer. I farther declare, that I never was a member of the Corresponding Society, nor any other political society in Great Britain, nor did I ever attend any of their meetings public, or private. So help me God!

"Surely if a man is to be believed at any time, it is when he is going into eternity, before the bar of the Heavenly Father and Almighty God. Before him I now solemnly declare the truth of what I am now saying. I declare it under this impression. Whether it will be believed by men or not, is a matter that must rest with posterity. I hope history and posterity will do me justice; but if not, I go instantly before a tribunal where it is known that I speak the truth.

give him! Two others perjured themselves, one of them was a poor ignorant lad; but God forgive them all, as I now do. I forgive them from my heart. I have no doubt that, when the clouds of prejudice and alarm shall pass away, justice will be done me; and I hope my sufferings will be a warning to jurors to be cautious how they embrue their hands in innocent blood.

"Some few disputes took place between me and my brother clergyman who attended me. I have said some harsh things of him, for which I beg his pardon. I wish to die in amity with all mankind. We are now, thank God, agreed.

"I have now finished.-But, gentlemen, I recommend to you-I do recommend to you, men of Kent, in time to come to beware how you permit any persons to take advantage of you, and to guard against the snares of the crown-lawyers. It has been the fate of your county to shed the blood of a poor helpless innocent stranger.-May Almighty God forgive all mine enemies; and I desire of you all to pray to God to grant me grace to support me in this moment, and to enable me to die. in a manner worthy of my integrity. I have many sins to answer for, but they are the sins of my private life; and I am innocent of the charge for which I die.

"ŎLord! have mercy on me, and receive my soul !"

"My life is falsely and maliciously taken He spoke with so firm and distinct a voice away, by corrupt and base perjury, and sub- as to be heard by all present. His manner ornation of perjury. But God forgive my was impassioned, but distant from all extraenemies! I have long, long been persecuted vagance. Having concluded, he said, "I am by the government of Ireland. The first ready;" but the rope had got out of its place, cause for that persecution was, my having en- and the executioner had again to adjust it. deavoured to teach the people this lesson: During this time, Mr. Coigly's countenance That no man could serve his God by perse- was expressive of peace within. While the 'cuting his neighbour for any opinion, and cap was drawing over his face, he made signs particularly for any religious opinion.' I to his friend to approach nearer, and bowing have always said, 'If men wish to serve God dropped his handkerchief at his feet. That 'on earth, they should give up their perse- most trying space of time between the mo'cuting spirit. This was the first cause of ment when the cap was drawn over his face my persecution. The second cause of my and the falling of the platform, was longer persecution was, a contested election in Ire- than is usual; during all this time no trepiland, in which I used my endeavours to pre-dation could be discovered in his limbs or vail on my father and my brother, who were muscles. His lips moved, and his hands were freeholders, to poll for the opposition candi- lifted up in prayer, to the last moment. dates.-The third, and final cause of my per- died apparently with little suffering. secution, was (and it was supported by charges which have been since retracted) because I was active in procuring a long and spirited address to his majesty, to put an end to this most calamitous war, and to dismiss those who are falsely called his servants.

"I forgive from my heart, with pure Christian charity, every man who has had a hand in my murder; for I declare it is a most wicked murder. ****** and ****** perjured themselves; but God forgive them! Mr. *** per jured himself by suppressing proofs he held in my favour; but God forgive him!

a man of most infamous character, corruptly perjured himself; but God forgive him also! Mr. ******** perjured himself; but God for

He

The spectators behaved with great respect toward him.* When he declared his innocence, a buz of applause ran through the multitude, and there was even some clapping of hands. Toward the close of his address, many of the spectators wept, and some of the soldiers were unable to repress their tears.

It is due to the sheriff to say, that he conducted himself with something more than common propriety, indeed with very great humanity. He gave orders to the execu-. tioner to spare the prisoner all unnecessary pain; and assiduously watched to see that. done.-—Orig. Ed.

In

the Orange Men.* His private occupations shed blessings on the poor, the sick, and the afflicted. His amiable and great qualities were unsullied by any private vices. speaking of him on this side of his character, I will use his own honest words: "In point of moral conduct, even my enemies will not, nor ever did attempt to impeach me; never did I knowingly injure any one; I was always an obedient child, dearly beloved and cherished by my parents-alas, my untimely fate bring down their hoary hair with sorrow to the grave!"

Mr. Coigly was descended, both by his father's and mother's side, from very ancient Roman Catholic families in Ireland. His father, who is a farmer in moderate circumstances, and a respectable old man, resides in the parish of Kilmore, in the county of Ar. magh, on the spot where Mr. Coigly was born. He educated his son for the church, and sent him first to the grammar-school at Dundalk, in the county of Louth, where he was instructed in the rudiments of the learned languages and the mathematics, and after-will ward to the Irish college of Lombard in Paris, where he finished his studies. In 1789, he returned to Ireland; and having taken orders settled at Dundalk, where he continued to officiate as a Roman Catholic clergyman, till he was driven from that place by the persecutions of the Orange Men and the Irish government.

In places where he resided for a length of time, he was well known for his talents and virtues. At the college in Paris he soon was considered as a youth of vigorous intellect and inflexible fortitude. In the North of Ireland, in the counties of Armagh, Louth, Down, and Antrim, he was beloved and admired, and as sincerely by the Protestant Dissenters as the Catholics. His public labours were directed against the tyranny of the Beresford faction, and the savage persecutions of

The characteristics of his temper were of a noble kind. They were frankness, constancy, and generosity. Of all his transactions from a boy to his last scene, these are the predominant qualities. Perhaps his facility in sacrificing his own interest to that of others was too great. In his last moments it marked his feeling, for he not only forgave the clergyman who persecuted when he ought to have consoled him, who tempted him to crimes when he ought to have fortified him if wavering, but with an excess of generosity he endeavoured to remove the odium which that person had justly incurred.

He died on the 7th of June, aged 36.

* I refer my reader for an account of the circumstances of his public life to his own Memoirs.-Orig. Ed.

TRIALS FOR THE IRISH REBELLION.

631. Proceedings on the Trial of HENRY and JOHN SHEARES, Esquires, Barristers at Law, for High Treason; before the Court holden under a Special Commission of Oyer and Terminer at Dublin, on Wednesday the 4th and Thursday the 12th Days of July: 38 GEORGE III. A. D. 1798.*

Reported by William Ridgeway, esq. for Mr. Curran as counsel for Mr. John Sheares;*