"Such is the barbarity and folly that must ever arise, hen force and power assume the functions of reason and justice. "As to his intention after the arrest, it is clearly out of the question. The idea of intention is not applicable to an impossible act. To give existence to intention, the act must be possible, and the agent must be free. Gentlemen, this, and this only, is the subject on which you are to give a verdict. I do think it is highly honourable to the gentleman who has come over to this country, to give the prisoner at the bar the benefit of his evidence; no process could have compelled him: the inhabitants of foreign countries are beyond the reach of process to bring witnesses to give evidence. But we have a witness, and that of the highest respectability, who was himself at Hamburgh at the time Mr. Tandy was arrested, in an official situation. We will call Sir James Crawford, who was then the King's representative in the town of Hamburgh. We will show you, by his evidence, the facts that I have stated; that before the time allowed to the prisoner to surrender had elapsed, Sir James Crawford did in his official situation, and by orders from his own Government, cause the person of Mr. Tandy to be arrested in Hamburgh. Far am I from suspecting, or insinuating against Sir James Crawford, that any of the cruelties that were practised on that abused and helpless community, or on my abused client, were committed at his instance or personal sanction; certain am I that no such fact could be possible. "I told you before, gentlemen, that the principal question you had to try was, the fact on which the parties had joined issue : the force and arrest alleged by the prisoner; and the denial of that force by the counsel for the Crown. There is one consideration, that I think necessary to give some attention to. What you may think of the probable guilt or innocence of the prisoner, is not within the question that you are to decide; but if you should have any opinion of that sort, the verdict given in favour of the prisoner can be no preclusion to public justice, if after your verdict they NAPPER TANDY. 327 still call for his life; the utmost that can follow from a verdict in his favour will be, that he will be considered as a person who has surrendered to justice, and must abide his trial for any crime that may be charged against him. There are various ways of getting rid of him, if it is necessary to the repose of the world that he should die. "I have said, if he has committed any crime, he is amenable to justice, and in the hands of the law: he may be proceeded against before a jury, or he may be proceeded against in another and nore summary manner; it may so happen that you may not be called upon to dispose finally of his life or of his character. "Whatever verdict a jury can pronounce upon him can be of no final avail. There was, indeed, a time when a jury was the shield of liberty and life: there was a time, when I never rose to address it without a certain sentiment of confidence and pride; but that time is past. I have no heart now to make any appeal to your indignation, your justice, or your humanity. I sink under the consciousness that you are nothing. With us, the trial by jury has given place to shorter, and, no doubt, better modes of disposing of life. Even in the sister nation, a verdict can merely prevent the duty of the hangman; but it never can purge the stain which the first malignity of accusation, however falsified by proof, stamps indelibly on the character of an 'acquitted felon." To speak proudly of it to you would be a cruel mockery of your condition; but let me be at least a supplicant with you for its memory. Do not, I beseech you, by a vile instrumentality, cast any disgrace upon its memory. "I know you are called out to-day to fill up the ceremonial of a gaudy pageant, and that to-morrow you will be flung back again among the unused and useless lumber of the constitution: but, trust me, the good old trial by jury will come round again; trust me, gentlemen, in the revolution of the great wheel of human affairs, though it is now at the bottom, it will reascend to the station it has lost, and once more assume its former dignity and respect; trust me, that mankind will become tired of resisting the spirit of innovation, by subverting every ancient and established principle, and by trampling upon every right of individuals and of nations. Man, destined to the grave-nothing that appertains to him is exempt from the stroke of death-his life fleeth as a dream, his liberty passeth as a shadow. So, too, of his slavery-it is not immortal; the chain that grinds him is gnawed by rust, or it is rent by fury or by accident, and the wretch is astonished at the intrusions of freedom, unannounced even by the harbinger of hope* Let me therefore conjure you, by the memory of the past, and the hope of the future, to respect the fallen condition of the good old trial by jury, and cast no infamy upon it. If it is necessary to the repose of the world that the prisoner should die, there are many ways of killing him—we know there are; it is not necessary that you should be stained with his blood. The strange and still more unheard of proceedings against the prisoner at the bar, have made the business of this day a subject of more attention to all Europe than is generally excited by the fate or the suffering of any individual. Let me, therefore, advise you seriously to reflect upon your situation, before you give a verdict of meanness and of * There is a passage in Dante descriptive of the same state of amazement, produced by an unexpected escape from danger. E come quei che con lena affanata, Si volge all' acqua perigliosa, e guata. (And, as a man with difficult short breath, Forespent with toiling, 'scaped from sea to shore, Cary's Translation. A distinguished Italian writer, (Ugo Foscolo, in the Quarterly Review) now in England, commenting upon this passage in a late number of a periodical work, observes, nearly in the words of Mr. Curran, "The concluding verse places the man in that state of stupor which is felt upon passing at once to safety from despair, without the intervention of hope: he looks back upon perdition with a stare, unconscious how he had escaped it."-C. SIR HENRY HAYES. 329 blood that must stamp the character of folly and barbarity upon this already disgraced and degraded country."* [A trial of great local interest, in which Mr. Curran was engaged, came off at the Spring Assizes of Cork, on April 13th, 1801, when Sir Henry Hayes was capitally indicted for the abduction of Miss Pike. The facts were these; Hayes was son of the Alderman of Cork, and had ran through a large property. He was fashionable and expensive in his habits. A widower, with several children, he determined to retrieve his fortune by marriage. Samuel Pike, a Quaker, was a banker in Cork, on whose death, Mary Pike, his daughter, became possessed of £20,000. She was 21 years of age, in weak health, and when the cause for action took place, was living with her relation, Mr. Cooper Penrose, at his beautiful seat called Wood Hill, on the Glanmire road, near Cork. On Sunday, July 2, 1797, Sir Henry Hayes, who was unacquainted with Mr. Penrose, rode over to Wood Hill, was shown round the demesne, and finally, in the full spirit of hospitality, was asked to remain and dine. At table, he first saw Miss Pike, but had no conversation with her as she sat at a side table, with Mr. Penrose's daughters. Hayes returned to Cork, and having ascertained that Miss Pike's mother was a patient of Dr. Gibbings, wrote to him on some trifling pretence, obtained a reply, and then, closely imitating the handwriting, sent a note to Mr. Penrose, intimating that Mrs. Pike was taken suddenly ill and wished to see her daughter, and to command dispatch as she was not expected to live many hours. This missive reached Mr. Penrose after midnight, on July 22nd, 1797, and Miss Pike, accompanied by Miss Penrose and another relative, set off in Mr. Penrose's carriage. The night was tempestuous and dark. The carriage had not proceeded very far before it was stopped by a body of armed men. Miss Pike was identified by a muffled man, placed in another carriage with a lady, and driven off, sur The jury found a verdict for the prisoner. He was afterwards permitted to retire to the continent, where he ended his days.-C. rounded by an armed escort, to Mount Vernon, the seat of Su Henry Hayes, in the suburbs. The muffled man was Hayes, the lady was his sister. The traces of Mr. Penrose's carriage were cut to prevent pursuit. The muffled man took Miss Pike in his arms, out of the carriage, into his house, and placed her for that night, under charge of two women. Next morning, at day-break, she was forced into an upper room by Sir Henry and Miss Hayes, and a man in priest's habits was introduced, who performed a sort of marriage ceremonial, in which Sir Henry attempted to force a ring upon her finger, which she threw away. She was then locked up in the room, which contained only a table and bed, and after tea had been given to her, Sir Henry, (to use her own words,) was “coming in and out, and behaving in the rudest manner,” and saying she was his wife. However, he did not perpetrate the worst outrage. She insisted on writing to her friends, who liberated her the next day. If Sir Henry Hayes was popular, Miss Pike's friends were wealthy, persevering, and determined. They appealed to the law, such abduction being then a capital felony under the statute. Hayes fled. A reward of £2000 was offered by the Government and Miss Pike's friends, but in vain. Hayes was outlawed, but actually returned to Cork, where he lived, unconcealed and unmolested. At last, Hayes wrote to Miss Pike, politely offering to stand his trial, which took place (the outlawry being reversed, by consent,) nearly four years after the commission of the offense. Mr. Justice Day was the presiding Judge. There was a great array of counsel on both sides. For the Crown, Mr. Curran and six others; for the prisoner, Mr. Quin and seven more. Hayes came into Court attended by "host of friends." Curran's speech was earnest, eloquent, grave, and at times pathetic. He dwelt on the anomaly of Miss Pike, the victim, being compelled to fly to England, for security, during two years that the ravisher was "basking in the favours of a numerous kindred and acquaintance, in a widely-extended city," where every man knew his person. Hayes |