Calantha returned home with a heavy heart; and spoke to Lord Avondale and
her father. They both intreated her not to interfere. The moment indeed
was alarming and eventful; whatever measures were necessary, it was not
for her to judge; and while enthusiasm in the cause of liberty beguiled
some, it was, she felt it was, the duty of a woman to try and soften
and conciliate every thing. Linden’s fate was peculiarly unfortunate,
and Lord Avondale generously interested himself for him. Had money
been able to purchase his release, there was no sum he would not have
offered. They heard with the deepest regret, that it was a case where
mercy could not be shewn, without apprehending the most fatal effects
from it. Linden and Seaford had together entered the militia not above
three years back. Linden, an only son, was now in his twentieth year,
and Seaford, was scarce eighteen. Their example was deemed the more
necessary for the general safety, as so many in the same regiment had
deserted upon hearing of their disaffection. In the month of December
last, they had all taken the treasonable oaths; and their rash conduct
and riotous proceedings had already more than once incurred the severity
of the law.
Linden and two others had been accused, and afterwards pardoned on a
former occasion: their names had been likewise erased from the list
of offenders. This second breach of faith was deemed unpardonable.
Mercy, it was supposed, would but appear like weakness and alarm; all
intercessions were utterly fruitless; they were tried, found guilty and
condemned. Linden was so much beloved by his companions, that several
attempts were made, even by his fellow-soldiers and comrades, to rescue
him from the hands of justice; but he disdained to be so released; and
when he heard of the tumult his condemnation had excited, he asked his
captain’s permission to be spared the last bitter conflict of walking
through his own native town. The request was denied him.
On the 18th of May, at the hour of four, the time appointed to assemble,
twenty-three men, who had taken part in the riot, were called out. The
regiment, after this, slowly advanced in solemn procession through the
town, followed by the cavalry, and all the horse artillery. The streets
were thronged—the windows were crowded—not a word was spoken; but the
sobs and cries of friends, parents and old acquaintance, who came out
to take a last farewell, were heard. After passing through Belfont, they
turned to the high road, and continued the march until they reached the
plains above Inis Tara, about two miles from the town.
Linden and Seaford were then brought forward with a strong escort. They
continued silent and firm to the last. Just as the pause was made, before
the command was given that they should kneel, the mother of Linden,
supported by Mac Allain, forced her way through the crowd, and implored
permission to take a last farewell of her son. The officer desired that
she might pass; but the crowd was so great that it was with difficulty
she could arrive at the spot:—when there, she only once shook hands with
the young man, and said she had brought him his father’s blessing:—he
made no answer, but appeared very deeply affected. He had shewn the most
deliberate courage till that hour. It now forsook him, and he trembled
excessively.
“Thank God I am spared this,” said his companion: “I have no mother left.”
The signal was immediately given to fire; and the party prepared to do
their duty. A troop of horse at that moment, in the green uniform of
the national guards, appeared from an ambush, and a desperate struggle
ensued. The mutineers set up a terrible yell during the combat. The
inhabitants, both of the town and country, joined them in every direction.
Lord Avondale and many other officers present came up to the assistance
of General Kennedy’s small force, and soon restored order. The party of
horse were put to flight. The colonel of the regiment immediately ordered
a court-martial; and three prisoners, who were taken with Seaford and
Linden, were executed on the spot.
In the skirmish, the young man who headed the party of horse, and exposed
himself most eagerly to rescue Linden, was wounded in the left arm:
his person was described; the circumstance was mentioned; and a high
reward was offered for his head. It was supposed by many that he was
Lord Glenarvon.
The severity of these proceedings struck an immediate panic throughout the
disaffected. The inhabitants of the town of Belfont arrayed themselves
in black. A long and mournful silence succeeded; and few there were
who penetrated, under the veil of submissive acquiescence, the spirit
of rebellion and vengeance, which was preparing to burst forth. Gerald
Mac Allain, forgetful of his wrongs, appeared at the castle; Lady St.
Clare wrote the most penitent letter to Sir Everard; and with her two
daughters Jessica and Laura, entreated permission to return. Every one
of the tradesmen and farmers of any respectability took their names
from the new club, opposite Sir Everard’s house; and a sort of mournful
tranquillity and terror seemed to reign throughout.
A few days after this melancholy transaction, Linden’s mother died;
and as Calantha was returning from Belfont, she met the crowd who had
followed her to the grave. They all passed her in silence, nor gave her
one salutation, or smile of acknowledgment, as on other occasions; yet
they were her father’s own tenants, and most of their countenances she
remembered from childhood. When she mentioned this circumstance at the
castle, she was informed that Lord Avondale’s having taken an active
part against the party who had come forward to save the deserters, was
the cause of this.
To such heights, at this time, was the spirit of party carried. The whole
kingdom, indeed, was in a state of ferment and disorder. Complaints were
made, redress was claimed, and the people were everywhere mutinous and
discontented. Even the few of their own countrymen, who possessed the
power, refused to attend to the grievances and burthens of which the
nation generally complained, and sold themselves for hire, to the English
government. Numerous absentees had drawn great part of the money out of
the country; oppressive taxes were continued; land was let and sub-let
to bankers and stewards of estates, to the utter ruin of the tenants;
and all this caused the greatest discontent.
Some concessions were now granted in haste—some assurances of relief
made; but the popular spirit of indignation, once excited, was not to be
allayed by the same means which had, perhaps, prevented its first rise.
The time for conciliation was past. A foreign enemy lost no opportunity
of adding to the increasing inward discontent. The friends of government
had the power of the sword and the weight of influence on their side; but
the enemies were more numerous, more desperate, more enthusiastic. The
institution of political clubs, the combination of the United Irishmen,
for the purpose of forwarding a brotherhood of affection, a communion
of rights, amongst those of every different persuasion, even a military
force was now attempted; and the constant cry of all the inhabitants
of either town or country was a total repeal of the penal statutes, the
elective franchise, reform of parliament, and commutation of tythes.
Whilst, however, the more moderate with sincerity imagined, that they were
upholding the cause of liberty and religion; the more violent, who had
emancipated their minds from every restraint of prejudice or principle,
did not conceal that the equalization of property, and the destruction
of rank and titles was their real object. The revolutionary spirit was
fast spreading, and since the appearance of Lord Glenarvon, at Belfont,
the whole of the county around was in a state of actual rebellion.