_Sept. 5, '98._
We are all safe and well, my dearest aunt, and have had two most
fortunate escapes from rebels and from the explosion of an ammunition
cart. Yesterday we heard, about ten o'clock in the morning, that a large
body of rebels, armed with pikes, were within a few miles of
Edgeworthstown. My father's yeomanry were at this moment gone to
Longford for their arms, which Government had delayed sending. We were
ordered to decamp, each with a small bundle: the two chaises full, and
my mother and Aunt Charlotte on horseback. We were all ready to move,
when the report was contradicted: only twenty or thirty men were now, it
was said, in arms, and my father hoped we might still hold fast to our
dear home.
Two officers and six dragoons happened at this moment to be on their way
through Edgeworthstown, escorting an ammunition cart from Mullingar to
Longford: they promised to take us under their protection, and the
officer came up to the door to say he was ready. My father most
fortunately detained us: they set out without us. Half an hour
afterwards, as we were quietly sitting in the portico, we heard--as we
thought close to us--a clap of thunder, which shook the house. The
officer soon afterwards returned, almost speechless; he could hardly
explain what had happened. The ammunition cart, containing nearly three
barrels of gunpowder, packed in tin cases, took fire and burst, halfway
on the road to Longford. The man who drove the cart was blown to
atoms--nothing of him could be found; two of the horses were killed,
others were blown to pieces and their limbs scattered to a distance; the
head and body of a man were found a hundred and twenty yards from the
spot. Mr. Murray was the name of the officer I am speaking of: he had
with him a Mr. Rochfort and a Mr. Nugent. Mr. Rochfort was thrown from
his horse, one side of his face terribly burnt, and stuck over with
gunpowder. He was carried into a cabin; they thought he would die, but
they now say he will recover. The carriage has been sent to take him to
Longford. I have not time or room, my dear aunt, to dilate or tell you
half I have to say. If we had gone with this ammunition, we must have
been killed.
An hour or two afterwards, however, we were obliged to fly from
Edgeworthstown. The pikemen, three hundred in number, actually were
within a mile of the town. My mother, Aunt Charlotte, and I rode; passed
the trunk of the dead man, bloody limbs of horses, and two dead horses,
by the help of men who pulled on our steeds: we are all safely lodged
now in Mrs. Fallon's inn.
* * * * *
Mrs. Edgeworth narrates:
Before we had reached the place where the cart had been blown up, Mr.
Edgeworth suddenly recollected that he had left on the table in his
study a list of the yeomanry corps, which he feared might endanger the
poor fellows and their families if it fell into the hands of the rebels.
He galloped back for it--it was at the hazard of his life--but the
rebels had not yet appeared. He burned the paper, and rejoined us
safely.
The landlady of the inn at Longford did all she could to make us
comfortable, and we were squeezed into the already crowded house. Mrs.
Billamore, our excellent housekeeper, we had left behind for the return
of the carriage which had taken Mr. Rochfort to Longford; but it was
detained, and she did not reach us till the next morning, when we
learned from her that the rebels had not come up to the house. They had
halted at the gate, but were prevented from entering by a man whom she
did not remember to have ever seen; but he was grateful to her for
having lent money to his wife when she was in great distress, and we
now, at our utmost need, owed our safety and that of the house to his
gratitude. We were surprised to find that this was thought by some to be
a suspicious circumstance, and that it showed Mr. Edgeworth to be a
favourer of the rebels! An express arrived at night to say the French
were close to Longford: Mr. Edgeworth undertook to defend the gaol,
which commanded the road by which the enemy must pass, where they could
be detained till the King's troops came up. He was supplied with men and
ammunition, and watched all night; but in the morning news came that the
French had turned in a different direction, and gone to Granard, about
seven miles off; but this seemed so unlikely, that Mr. Edgeworth rode
out to reconnoitre, and Henry went to the top of the Court House to look
out with a telescope. We were all at the windows of a room in the inn
looking into the street, when we saw people running, throwing up their
hats and huzzaing. A dragoon had just arrived with the news that General
Lake's army had come up with the French and the rebels, and completely
defeated them at a place called Ballinamuck, near Granard. But we soon
saw a man in a sergeant's uniform haranguing the mob, not in honour of
General Lake's victory, but against Mr. Edgeworth; we distinctly heard
the words, "that young Edgeworth ought to be dragged down from the Court
House." The landlady was terrified; she said Mr. Edgeworth was accused
of having made signals to the French from the gaol, and she thought the
mob would pull down her house; but they ran on to the end of the town,
where they expected to meet Mr. Edgeworth. We sent a messenger in one
direction to warn him, while Maria and I drove to meet him on the other
road. We heard that he had passed some time before with Major Eustace,
the mob seeing an officer in uniform with him went back to the town, and
on our return we found them safe at the inn. We saw the French prisoners
brought in in the evening, when Mr. Edgeworth went after dinner with
Major Eustace to the barrack. Some time after, dreadful yells were heard
in the street: the mob had attacked them on their return from the
barrack--Major Eustace being now in coloured clothes, they did not
recognise him as an officer. They had struck Mr. Edgeworth with a
brickbat in the neck, and as they were now, just in front of the inn,
collaring the major, Mr. Edgeworth cried out in a loud voice, "Major
Eustace is in danger." Several officers who were at dinner in the inn,
hearing the words through the open window, rushed out sword in hand,
dispersed the crowd in a moment, and all the danger was over. The
military patrolled the streets, and the sergeant who had made all this
disturbance was put under arrest. He was a poor, half-crazed fanatic.
The next day, the 9th of September, we returned home, where everything
was exactly as we had left it, all serene and happy, five days
before--only five days, which seemed almost a lifetime, from the dangers
and anxiety we had gone through.
MARIA EDGEWORTH _to_ MISS SOPHY RUXTON.