of
public justice on the guilt or impunity of opinions long cherished by
the mind of Ireland. As the day of the trial approached, physiognomies
were seen in the streets, which showed that individuals were brought
together by the event who had never been seen in the metropolis before.
The stern, hard, but sagacious countenances of the north contrasted with
the broad, open, and bold features of the south; and those again
contrasted with the long, dark, and expressive visages of the west,
which still give indelible evidence of their Spanish origin. Many of
those men who now filled the busy thoroughfares of the capital, had come
from the remotest corners of Ireland, as if to stand their own trial.
The prisoner at the bar was their representative; his cause was their
cause; his judgment the decision of the tribunal on their principles;
his fate an anticipation of their own.

As I pressed on to the noble building where the trial was to take
place--one of the stateliest examples of architectural grace and dignity
in a city distinguished for the beauty of its public buildings--it was
impossible to avoid being struck with the general look of popular
restlessness. The precaution of government had called in a large
military force to protect the general tranquillity, and the patrols of
cavalry and the frequent passing of troops to their posts, created a
perpetual movement in the streets. The populace gathered in groups,
which, rapidly dissolving at the approach of the soldiery, as rapidly
assembled again, when they had passed by; street minstrels of the most
humble description were plying their trade with a remorseless exertion
of lungs; I heard the names of the Parliamentary leaders and the
government frequently transpiring in those rough specimens of the
popular taste; and from the alternate roars of fierce laughter and
bursts of wild indignation which arose from the groups, it was evident
that "men and measures" were not spared. The aspect of the multitude in
the vicinity of the Law Courts was still more disturbed. Rebellion has a
physiognomy of its own, and I had by this time learned to read it with
tolerable fidelity to nature. It always struck me as of a wholly
different character from that of the vice or the violence of the people.
It wears a thoughtful air; the lips seem to have a secret enclosed, the
eye is lowering, the step unsteady, the man exhibits a consciousness of
danger from the glance or tread of every passer-by.