CHAPTER XIII.
THE HURRY.
Mr. Pitt's scheme was doing well. Protestants and Catholics, the upperand the lower class, having been successfully set at each other'sthroats--the leading spirits of the popular party being snuglycaged--the executive thought the moment come to harvest their Dead-seaapples. The capture of Terence was accomplished at a fortunate moment;for things had gone too far now for the project of resistance to betamely abandoned. The proposed rising was perforce postponed that theharried Directory might for a fourth time reorganise itself. Ill-luckhaunted that Directory. Tone, inaugurator of the society, was abroken-spirited exile; Emmett, Neilson, Russell, Bond, zealousdisciples of their prophet, languished in Kilmainham; the HonourableTerence Crosbie (most promising blossom on the stem) laywounded--delirious from fever--within the provost. None of theprojectors of rebellion were permitted to take part in it; yet it wasevident that the days of meek endurance were at an end. The places ofthe absent were supplied by men, ambitious but incapable: smallcountry gentlemen of limited attainment, or farmers of little culture,who were speedily swallowed by the flood, to be supplanted in turn byfurious fanatics, as ignorant but more unscrupulous than they.
Nothing was attempted on New Year's Eve. January and February passed;March and April came, and were gone. Lord Clare wondered whether hehad been too precipitate, and digested Sully's saying: 'Pour lapopulace ce n'est jamais par envie d'attaquer qu'elle se souleve, maispar impatience de souffrir.' Had the people not suffered enough yet?The yeomanry motto had been, 'Soyons freres, ou je t'assomme!' andnobly they had acted on it. The people glared and showed their fangs,ready and willing for the fray; but they were leaderless. Those who inthe emergency affected to command, racked by indecision, put off theimportant moment. Rebel and royalist frowned silently one at theother, lance in rest, both itching to go to work, both declining theodium of the first move. It was the last brief lull of stillnessbefore the bursting of the storm--of the storm which had been so longin bursting. Dublin was uncertain how to proceed. If the Croppieswould rise and gain one decisive victory, then Dublin, joining themopenly, would turn and tear its rulers. On the other hand, should theCroppies encounter tribulation the capital would grovel at themumbling Viceroy's feet, presenting both cheeks to the smiter withexpressions of Christian meekness.
It was an anxious time for the lord-lieutenant and his Privy Council.
To the chancellor's disgust General Abercromby (who supplantedCarhampton), on whom he had counted for friendly co-operation ascommander of the forces, chose this awkward period of uncertainty toretire.
'Nothing,' he bluffly said, 'could justify the behaviour ofGovernment. If the two Houses of Parliament chose to turn theirmotherland into a slaughter-house, dire retribution would be sure tofall upon them some day. At all events he, a stranger, would havenothing to do with political crimes.' And so he went away; and thesupreme command was accepted _pro tem_, by General Lake, till suchtime as a fit substitute could be selected.
The attitude of pugnacious Pat, eager for the fight, but lance inrest, could not be permitted to endure. That those who were wont totread on the tails of each other's coats at Donnybrook should inincongruous fashion assume patience like that of St. Simon Styliteswas merely an insult to their masters. A little more humour must bedisplayed by the friends of England--a few more jokes, quite broadones now. A dozen or so of judicious murders, a grand confiscation ofpoor men's cattle, a few more virgins ravished--a real sharp touch ofthe spur, in fact. The jokers acted with a will, and the desiredeffect was gained. Kildare rose on the 23rd of May. Simultaneousattacks of a timorous kind were made on various strongholds, of whichone only could be pronounced successful. The barrack of Prosperous wassurprised in the night, the commandant killed, and a few officerssacrificed, the place committed to the flames. This was encouraging,and Government could well afford the loss of a few lives. But therebels needed a deal of spurring; they were still too craven for animportant venture; their hands were unnerved; their blood was chilledby fear of treachery. Oh! degenerate scions of turbulent Keltic kings!
The boys of Kildare, who were the first, casting distrust aside, totake the field, had been ground too low to allow the lamp ofpatriotism to burn steadily. After an abortive effort of a few daysthey sued for mercy. Slaves of the soil, hewers of wood and drawers ofwater, they were doomed to be; their leaders saw it now, and roundlytold them so, and they retorted on their leaders. Both indeed weresadly below the mark. If those who endeavoured to command were unableto manage their rabble, the latter were no better than the mostinnocent of savages. In presence of the foe they forgot the littledrilling they had learned, danced forward like children, with hats onpikes and wild gestures of defiance, and tumbled pellmell over eachother, hit or alarmed at the first blare of musketry. The business ofthe disciplined cohorts was simply to stand quiet until the gibberingsimpletons advanced to an easy distance; then to cut them down as thesickle mows the corn, in serried heaps upon the furrows. The boys ofKildare sued for mercy, and were graciously informed that if theywould come to the Gibbet-Rath on the Curragh, within given hours on acertain day, and there deliver up all weapons of offence, they mightbe permitted to return to bondage and be happy. They came, having beenassured that General Dundas had received permission from the Castle toshow clemency. Thirteen cartloads of pikes were delivered on theplain. General Duff, who, assisted by the colonel of the Foxhunters,was acting for Dundas, bade the rebels make of these a heap, andconfessing on their knees their insolence and wickedness, beg theKing's pardon humbly. The craven wretches obeyed, for no vestige ofcourage was left in them. Bereft even of the courage to die, theykneeled, praying that the agony of death might be past. They kneeled,with misery too intense for speech, on the great plain, with headsbowed and hands clutched together--a spectacle of human abjectnessharrowing enough to have made the angels weep.
'Charge!' shouted General Duff, 'and spare no rebel!'
The obedient Foxhunters (so called from the brushes they wore in theirhelmets) hacked down with their sabres the defenceless peasants to thenumber of three hundred and more. There were eighty-five widows in onesingle street of Kildare that afternoon. It is but fair to say that nopart of the infamy of this splendid joke attaches to General Dundas,for the massacre was shown to have taken place without his knowledgeor consent. Duff and the colonel of the Foxhunters must bear the bruntof it alone, along with other jests of equal brilliancy. A few of thevictims managed to scuttle off, hiding in furze-bushes or behindwalls, and reached Kildare at nightfall, to tell the tale of butchery.A woman who lay ill ten miles off, woke (so it is said) from a visionof her husband weltering in gore, and nothing would appease her butthat her daughter and aged father should go forth to seek him. Theywere met by knots of country-folk flying along the road in wildestexcitement.
'Bad news, old man!' they wailed as they pursued their courselike a whirl of wraiths. 'Our friends lie kilt--God rest theirsowls--_all_--on the Curragh, this day!'
Old man and grandchild harnessed a horse and car, determined tolearn more. The gloaming rested on the plain when they reached theGibbet-Rath.
Two hundred bodies were turned over before they came upon the one theysought. Its hands moved, in an effort to stanch a wound with a remnantof an old cravat, and in the increasing darkness they chanced toobserve the flutter. But for that movement, where so many around werestill, they might have passed by their bread-winner. Filled withthankfulness in that he yet lived, they stretched him on the car, forprudence' sake in corpse-like attitude, shaded his eyes with a hat,sprinkled some soiled hay over his prostrate form, and hurried home inhaste. But a rumour somehow got wind that 'the Croppies were gettingalive again,' and so the military were sent round to scour theadjacent country to make certain that no such untoward circumstanceoccurred.
Two men belonging to the Ancient Britons approached the hut atmidnight where this man lay, snatched by a marvel from the jaws ofDeath.
'Wh
at!' one said, 'that Croppy living still?'
'Yes, your honour,' replied the sick wife, with meekness. 'The Lordhas been pleased to grant the boy a longer day.'
'Come, come!' was the jocose retort. 'He'll be best out of misery, forhe can't possibly recover. Leastways, his curing will be tedious to anailing wife like you.' And the wretch pistolled him in cold blood thenand there, while the frenzied widow shrieked for mercy, and thedaughter strove to shield him with her own body in the ecstasy of herdespair.
This carnival on the Gibbet-Rath finally snuffed out Kildare; butWexford, which was made of different materials, rose up to take herplace. The men of Wexford belonged to another caste, had differenthair and features, were of a fiercer nature than the Kelts. They rosewith one accord, their blood stirred to fever-frenzy by theintelligence which drifted down to them. Kildare had disgraced theemerald flag; it should be the privilege of Wexford to retrieve itstarnished honour. They would set an example to pusillanimous countiesthat still hesitated about rising. War to the knife! no quarter given!Such should be their watchword. Proudly let the green banner wave.Victory or Death!
These raw but doughty warriors meant business. They set aboutestablishing themselves, therefore, in true military array; and in thefirst instance collected their strength into two detachments, thefirst of which, mustering three thousand men, encamped on KillthomasHill, where three hundred of the yeomanry gave them battle andobtained a bloodless victory. Not quite bloodless though, for oneLieutenant Bookey lost his life, and his indignant comrades offered tohis manes (after a massacre on Killthomas Hill which was onlybusiness) the sacrifice of several Popish chapels and at least ahundred Catholic dwellings on their next day's march. This had theauspicious effect of infuriating to delirium the second and greatercamp, whose leading spirits saw that, for them and theirs, their mottowas but too prophetic a one. Unless they were prepared to see theirfaith stamped out, there was clearly nothing for the men of Wexfordbut Death or Victory.
Like desperate men as they were, they set about accomplishing thelatter straightway. On the rising ground of Oulart, distant eightmiles from Wexford town, they rallied round the green at least fourthousand strong. With proud defiance and undaunted mien they beheldthe enemy's approach--red coats dimmed by dust and mist, and bayonetsglimmering. They awaited the onset with stern determination, and--fledhelter-skelter on the first attack. The yeomanry pursued with shoutsand jeers, following fast over rock and boulder, sweeping the rebelsbefore them as a broom sweeps chaff. But, arrived at the summit of thehill, a hint came to the insurgents that cavalry lay in ambush on theother side to intercept their flight. Cavalry! To their untutoredminds a charge of horsemen meant instant annihilation, whilst theywere quite resolved to live--for Victory. They rallied, turned on thedisordered and breathless pursuers, and charging downward with theirpikes, bore all before them. Taken by surprise, out of breath,disorganised, none of the quondam pursuers survived to tell of theirdefeat, save the lieutenant-colonel, a sergeant, and three privates.Many of the rebels succumbed, but what mattered that? Those whoremained alive were masters of the situation. Theirs was the prestigeof having beaten the royalist soldiers in the open field. Numbers hadvanquished discipline; ignorance had made science of none effect; thespirits of the enemy were lowered in proportion to their own triumph.Hosts of peasants, lukewarm hitherto through fear, flocked to join thevictors. Mustering now quite four thousand strong, and burning to addnew leaves of laurel to their chaplet, they marched with childishgesture, intoning as they marched the 'Marseillaise,' to storm thetown of Enniscorthy.
Those who led them saw that if the God of battles would continue tofavour them, their condition might be greatly improved, even to thepoint of rendering their unwieldy host truly formidable. The captureof Enniscorthy would aid the insurgents much, for that place (twelvemiles or so from Wexford) is bisected by the Slaney, whose ebb andflow permits vessels of light tonnage to approach the bridge whichunites the two portions of the town. Hence it was certain to be wellstocked with useful things, lying there for transmission up thecountry. It might contain ammunition too--a precious find indeed--forthe Wexford men were good shots with a gun, accustomed to earn amodest wage by shooting waterfowl for the markets of Dublin and ofCork, in consequence of which they had obtained exemption from themore vexatious clauses of the Gunpowder Act. If Enniscorthy shouldfall into their hands they would find themselves provided, too, with asplendid camping-ground called Vinegar Hill, which rose adjacent tothe city. At their leisure they might take ship, and, sailing down theSlaney, seize the town of Wexford--a seaport with a magnificentharbour. What a pity the French had been so unfortunate! How gladlythey would have welcomed the tricolour as it glided through the narrowentrance which admits into that glorious anchorage!
Certain intelligence arrived at Enniscorthy that it would be attackedon the 28th at midday. The drums beat to arms; the garrison took theirposts. The North Cork Militia occupied the bridge; cavalry were postedin the leading street; a detachment of yeomanry occupied an elevationthree or four hundred yards in front of the chief gate. On perceivingthe latter, the insurgent column halted and deployed, extendinglargely to the right and left, to outflank the small band before them,and cut it off from the town. Then they moved forward, driving cattlein advance of them, opening at the same time a well-directed fire. Theyeomanry, perceiving their tactics, retired within the walls, coveredby a charge of cavalry which, whilst dispersing a band that waspressing them too closely, came itself to tribulation by reason of thecattle. A second body, with a second lot of kine, made for a gate towestward, which was protected by a tributary stream. The ford hadpreviously been deepened, and was considered dangerous enough to actas its own defence. A gigantic priest, who wore a broad crossbelt anda dragoon's sabre swinging, was equal to the occasion:
'Drive in the cattle, boys, and swarm over their backs!'
No sooner said than done. Goaded by pikes the animals rushed headlonginto the gulf, and the rebels, crossing the palpitating bridge, creptunperceived into the town, which was by this time a mass of flame. Thedisaffected inhabitants picked off the soldiery from their windows;fired their own houses to burn them out when the royalists soughtprotection there; dragged away frieze-coated bodies, that the carnagemight not discourage the survivors; while women and young girls, inthe heroism born of excitement, ran hither and thither among thebullets, administering new courage in the welcome shape of whisky. Thestreets were so involved in smoke that the yeomen could not perceivethe rebels till they felt their pikes within their flesh. The whirlingflame flared in such a sheet as to unite in a seething arch over theirheads--singeing the bearskin of their caps, scorching their very hairand eyelashes. After a conflict wherein for three hours each inch wassavagely disputed, the loyalists found themselves pushed backwardsinto the central square. 'Victory!' hallooed the insurgents--just alittle bit too soon. A heavy discharge from the market-house made themwaver. Profiting by their recoil, cavalry and infantry rallied. Theirdiscipline stood them in good stead at the turning of the tide. Theydashed forward; drove the huge wave in a vast roll before them, whichebbed across the bridge, down the straight street, away out of thetown--a turbulent maelstrom of discomfited fugitives. Though therebels were for the time repulsed, it was certain that they wouldreturn again on the morrow and sweep the place clean by sheer weightof numbers. The little garrison was weakened by half its strength. Theloyalists, unwitting of the insidious purpose of Lord Clare, loudlyblamed the executive for leaving so inadequate a force to battle withso immense a mob. It was a pernicious want of forethought which wouldcost many lives. A strong force of regulars, they complained, and thisHurry would be over in two days at most. Guileless loyalists ofEnniscorthy! After all the labour of incubation, it was not fittingthat the trouble should be too brief. The chancellor's twitter ofconscience was past, and his hand was steady on the plough again, toforce it through roots and stones. The iron, being drawn, might not besheathed again before it had cut into the writhing soul of Erinineffaceably. She must
remember the Hurry to the end of her existence,as an awful sample of the terrors which would fall even yet moreheavily upon her if she should dare again to rouse the wrath of herelder sister. Consistently, therefore, till the lesson was complete,two hundred regulars or so were always expected to cope with twothousand rebels; and, even with those odds against them, the former,more frequently than not, obtained the upper hand. In the presentinstance, however, it was not so; for it was clear that the loyalistsmust desert the town or be killed to a man. In the mid-hour of night,lighted by the afterglow of conflagration, they retreated withoutwarning to Wexford--a melancholy train; bearing their women and theirwounded on their horses; leaving infants by the wayside, while theaged sank down from weariness and were abandoned to the tender merciesof the mob.
On the 1st of June the great camping-ground hard-by Enniscorthypresented a strange picture, occupied as it had then become by anarmed host of ten thousand men, independent of a grand array ofcamp-followers, suttlers, women and children, who flocked in from allquarters to applaud the defenders of their hearths. From a militarypoint of view, Vinegar Hill is strong. High grounds are crowned by acone of bold ascent, capped by a ruined mill, while the cultivatedfields beneath are divided into small enclosures, intersected by stonewalls and trenches. For defence by irregular troops who trusted ratherto numbers than to skill, such a position was particularly favourable;for the enclosures afforded safe cover for skirmishers, who couldwatch the approach of an enemy whilst they remained themselves unseen.The appearance of the singular mushroom-bed which speedily sprouted upwas extremely picturesque, in keeping with the wildness of guerillawarfare. Tents of the Donnybrook pattern rose on all sides. VinegarHill was intended to become a temporary home; for the chiefs wereresolved that this should be the centre of their operations until suchtime as they could be masters of the Castle. Long avenues of bentwattles like straggling caterpillars of every hue crawled up theslope, covered with the spoils of Enniscorthy--patchwork-quilts,sheets, ripped sacks, rugs, blankets. At intervals a smaller edifice,crowned by an old brush and swinging lantern, invited to a temporaryshebeen. If an old pot dangled too, it was a sign that food might alsobe procured there; though, the weather being warm, the soup-caldronswere usually placed without, that all the ragged host might lick theirlips over the good things which tumbled into them for a ragout. Norwere the more aesthetic pleasures of the eye and ear neglected. Theorgan of Enniscorthy church and its peal of bells were brought thitherin state for some one or other to jangle upon night and day; whilst asfor flags, the camp was alive with them, of every colour exceptorange, bearing each a rude harp without a crown. One, conspicuousabove the rest, was black, with the cognisance M. W. S. in white; andthis the loyalists in their charity chose to unriddle as 'Murderwithout sin,' whereas its real meaning was 'Marksmen of Wexford and ofShelmalier.' Among the throng might be observed men in the King'suniform--bright spots in the mass of brown. Such soldier prisoners asthe crew had taken were treated well and guarded with care, for theywere of the greatest value as drill-sergeants, and might be seen dayand night plodding up and down with awkward squads, into whom theywere striving to instil the first germs of military science. What anunmanageable mob it was! swelling hourly through the constant influxof recruits, not one of whom possessed the faintest idea ofdiscipline; each one of whom had a predilection for poteen and adim suspicion of the incompetence of his leaders. It was at thisjuncture that the weak, well-intentioned country gentlemen, who hadstriven to occupy the empty shoes of their imprisoned betters, wereswept into the shade by the unscrupulous influence of the lowerclergy--uncultured, ferocious creatures, whose worst passions werearoused by the burning of their chapels, the desecration of theiraltars; men who scrupled not to play upon the vulgar superstition of ahalf-savage multitude for the gaining of a cherished end. They becamehideous tyrants--such men as the priests of Tallat and of Boulovogue;merciless as their persecutors had been without mercy. Inflamed bywrong and intoxicated by a little brief authority, they were guilty ofenormities which, at a quieter moment, they would themselves havesurveyed with horror. The higher Catholic clergy withstood the forceof the current, and, resisting temptation, publicly disapproved anddeplored their acts; yet who (looking on the picture calmly at thisdistance of time) will throw the first stone at them? The multitudehad, with deliberate art, been stung to madness. The bad passions oftheir teachers had been stirred in their most vital place. If thepeople were as ignorant as their own cattle, who was accountable forit? England, through the cruel enactments of centuries. If the membersof the inferior priesthood were debased and wicked, who made them so?England, by persecuting them without ceasing, by forbidding theirminds to be illumined by education--England, by her accursed PenalCode.
The original champions being caged, three Catholic priests. FathersMurphy, Kearnes, and Roche, overturning established authority, assumedthe conduct of affairs, and set about the organising of their army.What had been hitherto a conflict of classes tinged with a religiousbias, became now a purely religious crusade, accompanied by all thecrimes which, through the history of the world, have been intimatelyassociated with religion. What an inscrutable vision it is--that ofthe stately Spirit walking through earth's story, her fair featuresdistorted, her white robes edged with blood, her pure skirts soiled bythe vilest lees of the human heart--_always!_
The new leaders divided their host into three divisions, with each aspecial mission. The first, under Father Kearnes, was to possessitself of Newtown Barry. This expedition proved abortive. The second,under Father Roche (which, owing to lack of space on Vinegar Hill, wasencamped at Carrickbyrne with an outpost at Scullabogue), was toattack New Ross, then, proceeding northward, was to join the thirdbody in a grand attempt on Dublin. This plan was plausible enough, forGorey, Arklow, and Wicklow were weakly garrisoned, and, should thosecitadels give way, the road to the capital lay open--undefended. Perryof Inch and Father Murphy (who commanded the third division) weremighty men of valour. The latter swore by the Holy Mother that he wasinvulnerable, carrying bullets in his pockets to prove the miracle.Chances seemed fairly in favour of success. The garrison of Gorey, forinstance, numbered but a hundred and thirty men. What could they hopeto do--disciplined though they were--against a rabble of six thousand?They did what was wisest under the circumstances; called temerity totheir aid, and essayed to brazen out the difficulty of their position.Instead of waiting to be attacked, they rushed out upon the road,raising such clouds of summer dust that the advancing rebels,supposing reinforcements to have arrived, turned and fled in terror.The advanced guard of the insurgents slinking off, had taken thecourage from the rest. Each man vied with his neighbour in the race,and the Irish peasant is wondrous fleet of foot.
Father Kearnes' detachment met with more grave misfortune than thismerely temporary rout. The simultaneous attempt upon New Ross(nineteen miles from Wexford) was the hardest-fought day of the entireHurry--one, too, which will be darkened through all time by the memoryof a deplorable outrage. The object in gaining possession of New Rosswas the same as had induced the taking of Enniscorthy. For as the onestood on the Slaney, with water-access to Wexford Harbour, so did theother command water also, standing as it did upon the Nore and Barrow,within similar distance of the important port of Waterford. New Ross,too, was placed on the very border of Kilkenny. All the disaffected inthat county were expected to join the insurgents in a united giganticeffort to win so fine a jewel; for, as soon as it was captured,nothing would have been easier than to drop down to Waterford, whichloved not the Castle joss; which was weakly garrisoned, and temptingto boot in the way of plunder. But this well-balanced scheme wasfrustrated and made of no effect by the god of war's ill-temper. Surehe's as fickle and as false as Fortune is--that arrant feckless jade!And has not her excuse neither--being a man, who, by reason of hissex, should be above lowering his dignity by feminine whimsies. Onthis 5th of June he got out of bed on the wrong side (in consequenceof being called so early maybe), and the plan against New Rossmiscarried. At 3 a.m. Bag
enal Harvey, who commanded in conjunctionwith Father Roche, despatched a flag of truce, imploring the garrisonnot to provoke rapine by useless resistance. He bade them look up atthe heights which commanded the town, and count the myriads whosefrieze turned the landscape dun. For the good of all 'twere better tosurrender at once, rather than uselessly to sacrifice precious life. Aletter worthy of the kindly soft-hearted gentleman who wrote it.
The flag of truce was slain. His name was Furlong, a popular man. Theinsurgents, watching from above, beheld him lying prone--shot throughthe heart by an outpost sentinel. With fury they upbraided Harvey asan old dame for his ill-timed courtesy, vowing that they would obey noone but the priest that day. Maddened by the sight of that singlecorpse lying far below upon its face, they poured with theoverwhelming impulse of a destroying flood unexpectedly set free downthe steep declivity--an avenging awful host, numbering twentythousand--and battered in the Three-bullet Gate. If the huge forcecould have been divided by scientific skill, an attack might have beenmade on the three gates at once, and every loyalist would havemiserably perished. But even the priest was powerless to cope with theboiling throng. Yelling and screaming, by mere weight they drove inthe pickets; cavalry went down like barley; nothing could withstandthe avalanche. In vain the principal thoroughfare of New Ross wasswept by the steady fire of artillery, which, falling on a dense massof men wedged tight together in a narrow street, shore down thecolumn's head as often as it rose. The legend of the dragon's teethwas realised that day; as fast as row drooped over row, so did otherrows spring up, propelled by a giant force behind. One fanatic pushedto the gun's very muzzle, and, plunging in his hat and wig, cried,'Come on, boys! her mouth's stopped!' The next moment he was blowninto the air, but the gun was trodden down, dismounted--rendereduseless; and the yeomanry retired under shelter. If the Croppies hadobeyed their priest, all would have gone well. But much as they adoredtheir Church, much as they longed for beatific rest in Paradise, theyat this moment loved mundane whisky more. They plundered the houses ofmeat and drink, broached barrels in the market-place, poured fieryrivers of consolation down their parched gullets. In vain Mr. Harveybegged them to desist; in vain Father Roche threatened them withpurgatorial ills. They snapped their fingers at their God and at Hisminister. Had they not already suffered hell? Well, then, they wereused to it. Its terrors had ceased to fill their souls with dread.
The royalist commandant was amazed at what he saw. It was aPandemonium--but one whose horrors were evanescent. He only had towait under his shelter. One little hour of drunken madness such asthis, and the day would be his after all, in spite of apparentlyadverse destiny. The insurgents thought no more of a foe who had onlyretired out of sight down a by-street. They laughed and sang, anddanced, and whirled in idiot frenzy; then fell into the gutter--drunk!By three in the afternoon such of the mob as could totter were huntedout of the town--those who remained were handed over to the tormentor.In the alleys and byways bodies choked the path three deep; twothousand more were borne away on carts. New Ross remained to hisMajesty King George; but the terrors of the black 5th of June were notyet over. The gates were closed on the expulsion of the rabblement soquickly that many stragglers among the royalists were left without tobatter on the wood in vain. The wounded amongst them were mercilesslypiked, unless by a Romanist shibboleth they could 'bless themselves.'If they could go through the formula they might be saved--if not, theywould, as a natural consequence, be butchered. A woman, vagrant in theturmoil, beheld a wounded friend who was a Protestant, and knew thathe could not pass the ordeal. She knelt by him, whispered some wordswhich he repeated, and for that time was saved. But a more awfulvengeance than this in the lanes around New Ross had been alreadywreaked away at Scullabogue. I have mentioned above that Kearnes'detachment had come from Carrickbyrne, close to which liesScullabogue; but I did not mention that at that place there was agoodly barn--strong, well-built--which was excellently useful as aprison-house, and at this time contained some three hundred and twentyprisoners--men, women, and children.
When the tide at New Ross began to turn against the insurgents, FatherRoche--whose reason had toppled, who was mad in that his influence hadshrivelled away from him--swore to be revenged somehow, not on his ownerring flock, but on those whom the ill-conditioned god of war waspermitting to win the day! It was one of those awful moments whenblinding ferocity dictates unchecked, which make one almost believe inthe existence of Lucifer; when the human tendency to evil seems topile itself up into a monument of what wickedness may be able toaccomplish. A messenger was despatched to Scullabogue with a commandto immolate the prisoners. Their gaoler, appalled at this cold-bloodedorder, refused to obey it unless the directions were more explicit.These arrived in due course, very clear indeed. 'The priest says theprisoners must be put to death.' There was no disobeying this.Croppies took off their long coats to carry out the priest's decree.The handful of men were brought out and shot; the doors were firmlybarred; the barn was set ablaze there is no use in going into detail.
* * * * *
By-and-by the flames slackened; the fire smouldered with fetid smoke;all was still within. The three hundred innocent women and childrenhad been consumed as a holocaust on the altar of his majesty KingGeorge; who, large-minded man, was consistently without mercy for theIsle which God had given to his keeping; who was pitiless for theprofessors of a faith which did not agree with his own fancy; who, byreason of his policy regarding Ireland, must be held accountable forthe tragedy which took place on that fifth of June within the barn atScullabogue.
CHAPTER XIV.
VAE VICTIS!
After all, Scullabogue was but a retaliation for the eccentricities ofthe Gibbet-Rath, where the upper class had given the lower a harshlesson in the amenities of warfare. The effect of any great breach ofthe law of order is always to throw out of gear the minds of those whocome within its influence, which disturbance varies in form accordingto the mental state of the individual affected. The sensitive shrinkappalled; those whose latent propensities to violence are usually keptwithin bounds by the law of order escape from its trammels. A largepart of the community is kept to decent courses by fear of socialregulations. It needs but the disturbing force of war, aided by theexample of crime in superiors, to weaken this compelling sense ofdiscipline and let loose the natural passions.
But let us hurry on; the tale is distressing still, though time hasmasked it with a veil of ninety years.
A body of insurgents succeeded in taking Wexford, whose garrisonevacuated it, retiring to Duncannon in disorder. The loyalists therewho had howled over the loss of Enniscorthy, and were still in thedark as to the tactics of the Executive, grew furious. What was this?The Helots were ousting their lords and masters, were daring to besuccessful; even presumed to follow the example of the squireens, whohad set the fashion of practical jokes. What is fun in one person maybecome impudence in another. Pitch-caps and half hangings were met by_carding_--a bit of genuine humour, whereby the rebels proceeded totear the backs of their prisoners with boards stuck full of nails. Solong as the loyalists had it their own way the conceit was amusing;now it became revoltingly vulgar. Retaliations and reprisals followedthick on one another. It was no longer a struggle of man against man,but of beast against beast--worse, of savage against savage.
Murphy's detachment, which, it will be remembered, fled precipitatelyat sight of a cloud of dust, rallied, and hung about the neighbourhoodwatching the moment to attack. They got horses how they could; sackedand burned private dwellings, whose rare spoils in the way of bookswere converted into saddles, with hay-ropes for stirrups. Forammunition they used pebbles or hardened balls of clay, and bypounding the necessary materials in mortars, fabricated a kind ofgunpowder which, while fresh, served its purpose well enough. Two orthree cannons which they had captured were mounted on jaunting-cars,and exploded in awkward fashion by means of wisps of straw in guise ofmatches. Strange men, in half
priestly garb, arose among the dragons'teeth, wearing one a helmet, another a clerical head-piece ordiscarded bearskin; vying one with the other in ferociousrecklessness. It was now a religious crusade indeed, Protestantagainst Catholic, Catholic against Protestant, to the very death.Theological quibbles were forcibly disentangled.
The little garrison of Gorey, which had done such good service bysallying out and frightening the rebels, begged for reinforcements.Such a deed of prowess as was theirs may not, without serious hazard,be repeated twice. It would be awkward for Gorey to fall just now, forit was on the high road to the capital, and an accident might producefatal riots there. Therefore, although it was not in accordance withthe plan laid down, it was resolved at the Castle to assist Gorey. OneWalpole, a carpet-knight, connected by blood with my lord Camden, wassent out to try his wings; and he caracoled upon his excursion as, ina non-hunting district, one might go out to exterminate a batch of foxcubs. Carelessly he led his reinforcements, enlivening the way withbuoyant jest, as if the enemy was too contemptible to be reallydangerous; neglecting the commonest precautions, though warned of hisrashness by his officers. At a spot called Tubbineering the aspect ofthe landscape, flat hitherto, changes. The road leaves the open, andplunges between high banks, with wide ditches at their bases, and rowsof close bushes on their tops. Dense hedges intersect the fields,which (in the month of June) are thick with luxuriant foliage, whilethe ground is occupied by rich potato-crops, standing corn, and wavinggrass, affording ample concealment for such as may choose to lurk init.
Through this defile Walpole led his men towards Gorey, carolling hisstave, piping his little song, in close column, without flankingparties or skirmishers. The infantry were well advanced. As the roadnarrowed the progress of the column became slow and difficult.Suddenly, from the enclosures, a wild yell burst forth, accompanied bya rain of musketry. The carpet-knight fell on the first fire. Theconfusion was tremendous; to fight or to retreat impossible. Theheight and mazy number of the fences made the ground most favourablefor bandit warfare, as the long pikes of the insurgents reachedwell-nigh across the narrow road, and those who escaped the first firewere perforated from behind by invisible assailants. The surprise ofthe troops was complete. Dragoons and infantry rolled in hopelessconfusion one on the other. They were butchered to a man. Thevictorious rebels followed up their advantage, and hastened to occupyGorey, but alas! cajoled by whisky the men of Father Murphy were nomore tractable than the men of Father Roche. Vainly he set mattrassesagainst the cellar-doors, in hopes that these would escape theirscrutiny. But the instinct of Pat would find out a cellar-door on thepitchiest night. Regardless of the father's exhortations, Pat hurriedto put that in his mouth which should steal away his brains--aye, andhis hopes too--and remained in a frantic paroxysm of drunkenness forfive whole days and nights.
Now, had this triumphant detachment (twenty thousand strong it was)marched straight on Arklow, then on Wicklow, both would certainly havegiven way without an effort, and Father Murphy's ambition might havebeen gratified of sleeping in my lord Camden's bed. But as theelements fought for England, so did the unstable Irish nature combaton the side of the Executive. There was a panic, of course, in Dublin.The Senate tore up Dame Street to the Castle, begging, with tears,that their valuable lives might not be placed in jeopardy. And thePrivy Council, perceiving that things might be going just a little toofar, graciously acceded to the humble petition of the faithful Lordsand Commons, and despatched reinforcements southwards.
At this moment the position of the insurgents was by no means adespicable one, despite the weakness of their leaders. The failure atNew Ross had compelled them for the time to abandon their attack onWaterford. But they held Enniscorthy and its river, and Wexford withits noble harbour; while, for a base of operations, nothing could havebeen better than Vinegar Hill. To the north, too, they held Gorey,which was almost, from their point of view, the key of the capitalitself. The hedges along the Dublin road were alive with disaffectedpeasants, who were longing for an opportunity of joining the advancinghost. Arklow was half garrisoned, Wicklow scarcely garrisoned at all.If the rebel host had, ignoring whisky, marched straight northward,the march would have been an exultant progress of heroes, swelled asit proceeded by a torrent of exhilarated patriots.
But now the mice had played enough. They had nibbled the cheese andmade unpleasant holes in it. It was time for the cat to pounce, and topounce with a will. How dared these arrogant mice make holes in hisMajesty's cheese? Arklow would be the next point--of course itwould--so soon as the victors of Gorey could tear themselves away fromalcohol. Five days of constant intoxication is trying to the mostvigorous frame. Five days of cessation of hostilities is eminentlyconvenient to an enemy who desires to act unflurried. Dublin wasfrightened out of its wits; the heads of the Catholic clergy wereindignant and ashamed. Those lords and gentlemen who did not happen tobe slaves of Lord Clare, or pensioners of England, shut themselves upin their country mansions to brood over their grief. Erin was in theconvulsions which precede dissolution. The Executive--calculatingspectators of the agony--deemed it time to come to her succour,provided she would swear an oath to behave herself for ever and evermore. The Executive shook its wig and declared that to stop so awful ascandal any means were permissible. Instead of dribblingreinforcements by two or three hundred at a time, and so feeding thehopes of the rebels with sham victories, the Privy Council promisedthat the whole military strength at their command should be put inmotion to punish the iniquitous with a severe and righteous sternness.Lord Clare assumed a picturesque attitude, in which sorrow waselegantly blended with anger--like that aggressive angel who neversinned, and who, glorying in the fact, postured with his waving swordat the gates of Eden. Lord Camden mumbled, as usual, that the wholeaffair was 'really too awful;' that he was glad her ladyship was safe;that he ought to be elevated to at least a dukedom as a reward for hisprodigious services. The Protestant inhabitants of Wexford, whoselives for the last week or so had resembled those of the chosen peopleby the waters of Babylon, must instantly be relieved, he gurgled.Enniscorthy must be retaken; the camp at Vinegar Hill, and the hillitself, if necessary, must be blown into smithereens. Small men hadbeen good enough for small work. Now General Lake himself, Commanderof the Forces _pro tem_., must head the Royal troops; the loyal Lordsand Commons had no need to knock their knees together, their precious,honourable lives were in no real danger--never had been. General Lakeand his men would set matters straight in a trice.
Having torn them at last from the whisky-bottle of Capua, FatherMurphy led his forces against Arklow. His men were dispirited,unnerved by excessive carousing. Their heads ached; they felt unwell.Murphy and some other warrior-priests said mass for them as they stoodbareheaded in the June sunlight, with nature smiling around.
'It was a holy war,' Murphy said. 'They had been guilty ofbacksliding; but man is weak and temptation is great; he would pray tothe Holy Mother for them, that the cause might not suffer throughtheir sin. He who addressed them, was, as they knew, invulnerable.These myriad bullets which he held in his hand had passed through hiscoat' ('See, boys, the holes!'), 'but could not hurt his skin. 'Twasthe Holy Mother who watched over him and them. He would lead the van.Sure they would follow their priest--their pastor--their friend--theirgineral!'
With howls of ecstatic and repentant fervour they cried out that theywould. He had always led them to victory, their doughty priest! Onemore, two more successes, and Dublin would be theirs; then the wholecountry would unite; the Sassenagh would be driven into the sea; theobject of the crusade would be accomplished--and through them,miserable sinners though they were.
They marched against Arklow on the 9th, and were repulsed thence withawful slaughter. The Royalists lost sixty men, the rebels left athousand corpses stark upon the grass--amongst them, Murphy theinvulnerable. With dismay and despair they beheld his body roasted bythe enlightened foe; in the gloaming they saw devils, in the guise ofyeomen, dancing round the steaming corpse; fiends cleaning their bootsw
ith the fat that dripped from it. With howls of superstitious horrornow they scurried away in the darkness, over field and hedge andfosse, through dyke and brake, in an agony of desperate fear quitedifferent from a battle-panic, and arrived at length at the rendezvouslike madmen, panting, incoherent, to tell their fearsome story.
Orders were issued to the Royalist forces to hold themselves inreadiness. They had been ready for months past. A grand combinedattack was to be made upon the rebel base, at Vinegar Hill, on the21st of June. Lock, stock, and barrel, these insolent varlets were tobe stamped out of existence, without parleying, as a warning to alltraitors. Eight generals (no less) and twenty thousand soldiers wereto take part in this glorious field-day. Why had this force lain idlehitherto? Why were driblets despatched to contend with myriads? It wasnow the 10th. With a cunning steadiness of purpose, almost too wickedeven for humankind, ten days were permitted to elapse before the finalblow was struck. Ten days of inaction--ten days of rumination over theawful future--ten days wherein to become utterly disorganised, and tocommit such deeds as a carefully-fanned flame of accumulated hate andthe hopelessness of unutterable despair should dictate. The insurgentssaw themselves on the eve of destruction, taught by a bitter past thatthere was no hope or chance of mercy. Flung out of the pale ofhumanity, they were to be hunted down like vermin--like vermin thenthey would fly at the throats of the hunters, and do all the harm theycould ere they received the _coup de grace_. A scene of horrorcommenced at Wexford, and endured during these ten days, over which wewill draw a veil. Those who know aught of this spasm in Irish historywill have been already sickened by the deeds on Wexford Bridge, andwill be glad to be spared a new recital of them. Suffice it, that ifGeneral Lake had started immediately after the repulse of Arklow,these deeds would never have been committed. The desperate wretcheswould never have entered on their carnival of carnage; would neverhave been guilty of the crimes which, like Scullabogue and othernightmares, must all lie at good Farmer George's door.
The eight generals and the twenty thousand soldiers set off at last.Lake's plan was committed to paper in the clearest black and white. Asimultaneous attack was to be made on Wexford and Enniscorthy, whilethe main body directed its attention to Vinegar Hill, which was to becarefully surrounded in order that no vermin might escape. If thisdelectable plan had been successfully carried out, the rebels wouldhave been netted and slaughtered by thousands; but that Providencewhich had slept so long, which had been so blind to human wrongs, sodeaf to human prayers, awoke at last and prevented this wicked thing.At the critical moment two brigades were missing, the circle wasincomplete, and, after a feeble cannonade, the rebel masses retiredthrough the gap left by the missing links, to spread terror in thestreets of Enniscorthy. Lake was furious. All that ingenuity couldsuggest had been brought to bear upon his plan. It is provoking whenaccident upsets our craftiest calculations. He had the mortificationto perceive that he had not crushed the rebellion so completely as hehad wished--by driving all the malcontents off the face of the earth.He abused his generals, but they showed that the fault was none oftheirs; a higher power had checked their movements. Moore had metaccidentally with a small detachment of rebels, who engaged him atFoulke's Mill; Needham, with a vivid remembrance of the disaster atTubberneering, had moved through gorges with caution, delayed now andagain by the errors of disaffected guides, the sulky inaction ofimpressed drivers. Lake might swear, but these were the facts. It wasa pity; for, with the exception of the two missing links, the Royalistcolumns behaved admirably. They arrived at their posts in the nick oftime. The rebels, in spite of their strong position, did littledamage, for they aimed, as usual, too high. The priestly warriorsacted with undaunted bravery, exhorting their men, horsewhipping them,even pistolling some who were endeavouring to seek safety in flight.
Father Roche was everywhere at once, clad in his vestments, with abrass helmet on his head. Father Clinch, of Enniscorthy, a man of hugestature, was conspicuous upon the hill; his broad cross-belts andlarge white horse were constantly looming through the smoke; his hat,with a crucifix stuck in it, was visible in six places at a time.
But no amount of desperate personal valour could save the doomedcrowds. They fell back on Enniscorthy; sued there for mercy, in vain.They promised, as the men of Wexford had just done, to lay down theirarms and return to their allegiance. Lake retorted by an offer ofterms which were impossible of acceptance, and continued his bloodywork. Every foot of Enniscorthy was stubbornly disputed, every yardwas fiercely contested. The bridge was cleared at last. The jostling,shrieking mob spread itself upon the plain; their bodies lay heapedabout the fields.
So the eight generals were crowned with laurels. The entire strugglehad lasted a month, which might have been put down in two days. Theenemy was finished off at a single blow--at last--a worthy enemy! Anhonourable triumph! Disciplined forces had fought successfully againsta rabble so besotted as to believe that a blessed bit of paper roundthe neck would make them bullet-proof; so ignorant as to run afterfalling shells and pick them up, wondering, as they did so, what thestrange things were that 'spat at them.'
When Scotland chose to rise, her misguided antics were repressed atonce. Her leaders met the fate which they had courted, and there wasan end of the matter. With Ireland it was otherwise. The freaks of herunstable nature were coldly calculated on; gins were set for hersliding feet; she fell into a trap, and grievous was her punishment.When the Americans rose against British misrule, their commanders werealways treated with military courtesy. In Ireland masters and men werestrung up side by side, or shot down, without a 'by your leave,' likedogs. Till the horror of a war of classes was intensified by thegrafting on it of religious fanaticism, the opinions of themalcontents were of the broadest kind. All they demanded was socialequality and freedom of conscience. Their demands were met by blows.Innocent and harmless men were lacerated by petty tyranny and wantonill-usage, till they could endure no more. Then prudence was thrown tothe winds. It was like the herd of maddened swine rushing headlongdown a precipice into the gulf.
As far as concerns the 'Hurry,' the example of massacre was set in thefirst instance by the 'Party of Order.' The rebels tried sometimes toproselytise; the Royalists were content to murder. The Royalists werenever anything but cruel. The rebels hovered strangely 'twixt lenityand cruelty, according to the humour of the moment. With the supposedadvantage of a little education, the squireens out-heroded the conductof those who were quite ignorant; whereby we may gather that a littleknowledge is as fatal as a little of anything else; for their scrapsof education, instead of tempering their native savagery, merelyserved to instil into their warped minds an idea of superiority anddominion.
So far as the Croppies were concerned, the rebellion ended with theclever feat of General Lake. The few who escaped his vengeance spreadthemselves over the country in predatory bands. Some sought refuge inthe Wicklow hills; some perished miserably as banditti; few everreturned to their homes. It was not death so much that the Irishpeasant feared. His life was wretched. He had been brought up toconsider that three kinds of death were natural--first, in his bed;secondly, by hanging at assize time; thirdly, of collapse when thepotato crop went wrong. He could face death. _It was torture that hedreaded_--the pitch-caps, the picketings, the roastings alive, thelash. These it was that made a savage and a coward of him.
So far as the executive was concerned, the rebellion was by no meansover. Gordon, a Protestant clergyman and reliable witness, tells usthat 'more than fell in battle in Wexford were slain afterwards incold blood.' Those who would not surrender were hunted down; those whodid were strung up without a form of trial. Vinegar Hill became_elastic_ through the numberless victims who had found rest and amerciful oblivion beneath its sod.
So soon as massacre, in garb of war, had done her work, judicialmurder commenced on a more extended scale. When the appetite of Atewas sated in the country, she moved with the Eumenides--faithful andobedient maids of honour--to the capital, for change of air and scene.
; END OF VOL. II.
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