him thirty years, always considered him a loyal
subject and a zealous officer. Sir Evan Nepean,
who had known the prisoner since he was under
suspicion, said the testimonials he had brought
from Jamaica were of the highest order.

Lord Ellenborough summed up—mercilessly,
as might have been expected—and defended
the credibility of the witnesses. He (Despard)
had compassed the death of the king, which was
treason by the statute of Edward the Third; and
he had also compassed to seize the king's person,
and conspired to depose him, which was treason
by a recent statute. The jury, after twenty-
five minutes' consultation, returned a verdict of
guilty against Despard and nine other prisoners.
Despard was recommended to mercy on account
of his former good character, and the services
he had rendered to his country.

Colonel Despard, when allowed to speak,
expressed his satisfaction with his counsel,
denounced the witnesses, and denied that he had
ever seduced them from their allegiance, or even
had the smallest conversation with them on the
subject. Lord Ellenborough, in passing
sentence, referred to the wild system of anarchy
and bloodshed planned by the conspirators, who
had promised to make ample provision for the
families "of those heroes who should fall in the
struggle." He then delivered the sentence:
"That they be taken back to the prison,
conveyed from thence to the place of execution
on hurdles, there to be hanged, but not till they
be dead, but that while still alive their bodies
be taken down, their entrails taken out and
burnt before their eyes, their heads severed
from their bodies, and their bodies to be
quartered, the heads and quarters to be at the king's
disposal." Colonel Despard and the other
prisoners appeared much less affected than the
spectators.

In prison, Despard and his companions
behaved with resignation and fortitude. Lord
Nelson's mediation for his old comrade was in
vain. The parting between Despard and his
wife was borne by both with dignified fortitude,
and she waved her handkerchief to him as the
coach was driven from the prison. That was at
three; at five she came again for a second and
last farewell and was refused admittance, the
turnkey wishing to spare the prisoner any
further pain. Mrs. Despard expressed her
indignation at this cruelty, and declared her firm
devotion to the cause for which her husband was
about to suffer. From three to half-past six,
Colonel Despard paced his cell in agitation,
then threw himself jaded on his pallet, and slept
for an hour and a half. When he awoke, he
exclaimed, in an excited way, to the jailer who
was there on guard:

"From me they shall receive no information.
From me? No, not for all the gifts, the gold,
and jewels of the crown!"

He then composed himself and became silent.
He refused to attend service at the chapel on
Sunday; did not receive the sacrament; and
declined the assistance of a clergyman, saying
that he understood very well what he was
about, and that such interference would only
perplex him the more. When his solicitor came
that evening, the colonel told him he wished to
be buried with his countrymen at Pancras. At
daylight that morning, the drop, scaffold, and
gallows, had been erected on the top of the jail,
and great crowds had assembled to see the
sight. The Bow-street patrol and detachments
of the Guards were stationed round the jail day
and night, for the ministry was still very
uncertain how deeply it was detested.

The prisoners all slept about two hours, and,
except their leader, spent the rest of their time
with their priest and their dissenting ministers,
preparing for death. Before daybreak, seven
coffins, two large bags of sawdust, and the
executioner's block, arrived at the prison. At four
o'clock on Monday, February 21, the drum beat
at the Horse Guards for the cavalry to assemble;
soon afterwards, crowds began to fill the
Westminster-road and all the approaches to
Horsemonger-lane. At five, the bell of St. George's
commenced tolling. At six, Lord Cathcart
arrived at the head of the Life Guards; troops
were stationed at the Obelisk, the Borough-
road, and the Elephant and Castle; other
troops patrolled the various adjacent streets.
The officers, runners, and petty constables,
were formed two deep in front of the prison,
leaving a space of twenty yards from the walls
unoccupied.

At half-past six the prison bell rang, and the
cells were instantly unlocked. Five of the
prisoners attended prayers, four confessed they
had done wrong, but not to the extent of the
evidence, and all said they were never happier in
their lives. Despard and Macnamara then had
their irons knocked off and their arms and
hands bound. The sheriff kindly asked the
colonel if he could render him any last service.
The colonel thanked him in a gentleman-like
way, but replied that he could not. He had
previously dressed with composure, and drank
two glasses of wine. He was well clad, in a
blue double-breasted coat with gilt buttons, a
cream-coloured waistcoat with narrow gold lace
binding, and a flannel inside vest with scarlet
top turned over—a fashion still seen among
elderly country gentlemen only a few years
back. He also wore grey breeches, top-boots,
and a brown surtout. Before he was bound,
he shook hands cordially with his solicitor, and
returned him many thanks for his kind zeal and
attention.

On hearing the clink and fall of the colonel's
irons, the five prisoners in the chapel rose
from their knees, and their arms and hands also
were bound. The sledge—the body of a small
cart, lined with straw, and drawn by two horses
—was now ready, and the sheriff was
summoned. When Despard saw the sledge, he
smiled, and said contemptuously: "Ha! ha!
What nonsensical mummery is this!" He
then retired to the back and motioned to
Francis, who had made way for him to go
first. A regiment of cavalry were drawn
up in Kent-street, and several companies of