The Lords having returned to the Hall, and the prisoners being again called to the bar, Lord Balmerino was desired to choose his counsel. He named Mr. Forester, and Mr. Wilbraham, the latter being a very able lawyer in the House of Commons. Lord Hardwicke is said to have remarked privately, that Wilbraham, he was sure, "would as soon be hanged as plead such a cause." But he was mistaken: the conclusion of the trial was again deferred until the following day, Friday, August the first, when Mr. Wilbraham, accompanied by Mr. Forester, appeared in court as counsel for the prisoners. Previously, however, to the proceedings of the last day, Lord Balmerino was informed that his only hope was ill-founded; the plea was deemed invalid by the counsel; and the straw which had, with the kindest and most laudable intentions, been thrown on the stream to arrest his fate, was insufficient to save him. He bore this disappointment with that fortitude which has raised the character of his countrymen: when he appeared on that last day, in Westminster Hall, with his brother prisoners, he submitted, in the following brief and simple words, to his destiny. "As your lordships have been pleased to allow me counsel, I have advised with them; and my counsel tell me, there is nothing in that paper which I delivered in on Wednesday last, that will be of any use to me; so I will not give your lordships any more trouble."
When again asked, according to the usual form, as well as the other prisoners, whether he had anything more to say in arrest of judgment, Lord Balmerino replied; "No, my Lords, I only desire to be heard for a moment." Expressing his regret that he should have taken up so much of their lordships' time, he assured them that the plea had not been put in to gain time, but because he had believed there was something in the objection that would do him good. He afterwards added these few words, which one might have wished unsaid: "My lords, I acknowledge my crime, and I beg your lordships will intercede with his Majesty for me."
The Serjeant-at-Arms was then distinctly heard proclaiming silence; and the Lord High Steward delivered what Horace Walpole has termed, "his very long, and very poor speech, with only one or two good passages in it." On this, there may be, doubtless, contending opinions. Those who looked upon the prisoners, and saw men in the full vigour of life, condemned to death, for acting upon acknowledged, though misapplied principles, could scarcely listen to that protracted harangue with an unbiassed judgment. The tenour of the Lord High Steward's address had, throughout, one marked feature; it presented no hope of mercy; it left no apology nor plea upon which the unhappy prisoners might expect it. It amplified every view of their crime, and pointed out, in strong and able language, its effect upon every relation of society.
In conclusion, Lord Hardwicke said, "I will add no more: it has been his Majesty's justice to bring your lordships to a legal trial; and it has been his wisdom to show, that as a small part of his national forces was sufficient to subdue the rebel army in the field, so the ordinary course of his law is strong enough to bring even their chiefs to justice.
"What remains for me, is a very painful, though a very necessary part. It is to pronounce that sentence which the law has provided for crimes of this magnitude—a sentence full of horror! Such as the wisdom of our ancestors has ordained, as one guard about the sacred person of the king, and as a fence about this excellent constitution, to be a terror to evil doers, and a security to them that do well."
And then was heard, thrilling every tender heart with horror, the sentence of hanging, first to be put into execution, and followed by decapitation. The horrible particularities were added—"of being hanged by the neck,—but not till you are dead—for you must be cut down alive;"—the rest of this sentence, since it has long ago been suffered to fall into oblivion, may, for the sake of our English feelings, rest there. By those to whom it was addressed, it was heard in the full conviction that it might be carried out on them: since that very morning, nine prisoners of gentle birth had suffered the extreme penalties of that barbarous law.[373]
Of the calm manner in which his doom was heard by one of the state prisoners, Horace Walpole has left the following striking anecdote:
"Old Balmerino keeps up his spirits to the same pitch of gaiety: in the cell at Westminster, he showed Lord Kilmarnock how he must lay his head; bid him not wince, lest the strokes should cut his head or his shoulders; and advised him to bite his lips. As they were to return, he begged they might have another bottle together, as they should never meet any more till—he pointed to his neck. At getting into his coach, he said to the gaoler, 'Take care, or you will break my shins with this d——d axe.'"[374]
The English populace could not forbear delighting in the composure of Balmerino, who, on returning from Westminster Hall after his sentence, could stop the coach in which he was about to be conducted to the Tower to buy gooseberries; or, as he expressed it in his national phrase, honey-blobs.[375]
That night, not contented with saying publicly at his levee, that Lord Kilmarnock had proposed murdering the English prisoners, the Duke of Cumberland proposed giving his mistress a ball; but the notion was abandoned, lest it should have been regarded as an insult to the prisoners, and not because a particle of highminded regret for the sufferers could ever enter that hard and depraved heart. Too well did the citizens of London understand the Duke of Cumberland's merits, when, it being proposed to present him with the freedom of some company, one of the aldermen cried aloud, "Then let it be of the Butchers'!"[376]