An Irish Rising
When night came on Archie started for the west, accompanied by
Ronald and two of the Irish as guides. They crossed the country
without question or interference, and reached the wild mountains
of Donegal in safety. Archie had asked that his conductors should
lead him to the abode of the principal chieftain of the district.
The miserable appearance of the sparsely scattered villages through
which they had passed had prepared him to find that the superiors
of such a people would be in a very different position from the
feudal lords of the Highlands of Scotland. He was not surprised,
therefore, when his attendants pointed out a small hold, such as
would appertain to a small landowner on the Scottish Border, as the
residence of the chief. Around it were scattered a number of low
huts composed of turf, roofed with reeds. From these, when the
approach of strangers was reported, a number of wild looking figures
poured out, armed with weapons of the most primitive description.
A shout from Archie's guides assured these people that the newcomer
was not, as his appearance betokened him, a Norman knight, but
a visitor from Scotland who sought a friendly interview with the
chief.
Insignificant as was the hold, it was evident that something like
feudal discipline was kept up. Two men, armed with pikes, were
stationed on the wall, while two others leant in careless fashion
against the posts of the open gate. On the approach of Archie an
elderly man, with a long white beard, came out to meet them. Ronald
explained to him that Archie was a knight who had come as an emissary
from the King of Scotland to the Irish chieftains, and desired to
speak with the great Fergus of Killeen. The old man bowed deeply
to Archie, and then escorted him into the house.
The room which they entered occupied the whole of the ground
floor of the hold, and was some thirty feet wide by forty long. As
apparently trees of sufficient length to form the beams of so wide
an apartment could not be obtained, the floor above was supported
by two rows of roughly squared posts extending down from end to
end. The walls were perfectly bare. The beams and planks of the
ceiling were stained black by the smoke of a fire which burned in
one corner; the floor was of clay beaten hard. A strip some ten
feet wide, at the further end, was raised eighteen inches above the
general level, forming a sort of dais. Here, in a carved settle of
black wood, sat the chief. Some females, evidently the ladies of
his family, were seated on piles of sheepskins, and were plying
their distaffs; while an aged man was seated on the end of the dais
with a harp of quaint form on his knee; his fingers touched a last
chord as Archie entered, and he had evidently been playing while
the ladies worked. Near him on the dais was a fire composed of
wood embers, which were replenished from time to time with fresh
glowing pieces of charcoal taken from the fire at the other end of
the room, so that the occupants of the dais should not be annoyed
by the smoke arising close to them.
The chief was a fine looking man about fifty years old. He was
clad in a loose fitting tunic of soft dark green cloth, confined at
the waist by a broad leathern band with silver clasp and ornaments,
and reaching to his knees. His arms were bare; on his feet he wore
sandals, and a heavy sword rested against the wall near his hand.
The ladies wore dresses of similar material and of somewhat similar
fashion, but reaching to the feet. They wore gold armlets; and the
chief's wife had a light band of gold round her head. The chief
rose when Archie entered; and upon the seneschal informing him of
the rank and mission of his visitor he stepped from the dais, and
advancing, greeted him warmly. Then he led him back to the dais,
where he presented to him the ladies of his family, ordering the
retainers, of whom about a score were gathered in the hall, to
place two piles of sheepskins near the fire. On one of these he sat
down, and motioned to Archie to take his place on the other--his
own chair being removed to a corner. Then, through the medium of
Ronald, the conversation began.
Archie related to the chief the efforts which the Scotch were
making to win their freedom from England, and urged in the king's
name that a similar effort should be made by the Irish; as the
forces of the English, being thereby divided and distracted, there
might be better hope of success. The chief heard the communication
in grave silence. The ladies of the family stood behind the chief
with deeply interested faces; and as the narrative of the long
continued struggle which the Scots were making for freedom continued
it was clear, by their glowing cheeks and their animated faces,
how deeply they sympathized in the struggle.
The wife of the chief, a tall and stately lady, stood immediately
behind him with her two daughters, girls of some seventeen or
eighteen years of age, beside her. As Ronald was translating his
words Archie glanced frequently at the group, and thought he had
never seen one fairer or more picturesque. There was a striking
likeness between mother and daughters; but the expression of staid
dignity in the one was in the others replaced by a bright expression
of youth and happiness. Their beauty was of a kind new to Archie.
Their dark glossy hair was kept smoothly in place by the fillet
of gold in the mother's case, and by purple ribbons in that of the
daughters. Their eyebrows and long eyelashes were black, but their
eyes were gray, and as light as those to which Archie was accustomed
under the fair tresses of his countrywomen. The thing that struck
him most in the faces of the girls was their mobility, the expression
changing as it seemed in an instant from grave to gay--flushing
at one moment with interest at the tale of deeds of valour, paling
at the next at the recital of cruel oppression and wrong. When Archie
had finished his narrative he presented to the chief a beautifully
wrought chain of gold as a token from the King of Scotland.
The chief was silent for some time after the interpreter concluded
Archie's narrative; then he said:
"Sir knight, it almost seems to me as if I had been listening to
the tale of the wrongs of Ireland, save that it appears that the
mastery of the English here has been more firmly established than
with you. This may be from the nature of the country; our hills
are, for the most part, bare, while yours, you say, are covered
with forest. Thus the Normans could more easily, when they had once
gained the upper hand, crush out the last vestiges of opposition
than they could with you. As I judge from what you say, the English
in Scotland hold all the fortresses, and when the people rise they
remain sheltered in them until assistance comes from England. With
us it is different. First they conquer all the country; then from
a wide tract, a third perhaps of the island, they drive out the whole
of the people, and establish themselves firmly there, portioning the
land among the soldiery and repeopling the country with an English
race. Outside this district the Irish chieftains, like myself,
retain something of independence; we pay a tribute, and are in the
position of feudatories, being bound to furnish so many men for
the King of England's wars if called upon to do so. The English
seldom come beyond their pale so long as the tribute is paid, and
the yoke, therefore, weighs not so heavy upon us; but were we to
rise, the English army would pour out from its pale and carry fire
and sword throughout the country.
"We, like you, have been without one who would unite us against the
common enemy. Our great chiefs have, for the most part, accepted
English titles, and since their power over the minor chiefs is
extended, rather than decreased by the changed circumstances, they
are well content, for they rule now over their districts, not only
as Irish chieftains, but as English lieutenants. You have seen,
as you journeyed here, how sparse is the population of our hills,
and how slight would be the opposition which we could offer, did
the Earl of Ulster sweep down upon us with trained English soldiers.
"Were there a chance of success, Fergus of Killeen would gladly
draw the sword again; but I will not bring ruin upon my family
and people by engaging in a hopeless enterprise. Did I raise
my standard, all Donegal would take up arms; but Donegal alone is
powerless against England. I know my people--they are ready for
the fray, they would rush to battle and perish in thousands to win
victory, but one great defeat would crush them. The story of the
long fight which your Wallace, with a small following, made against
the power of England, will never be told of an Irish leader. We
have bravery and reckless courage, but we have none of the stubborn
obstinacy of your Scottish folk. Were the flag raised the people
would flock to it, and would fight desperately; but if they lost,
there would be utter and complete collapse. The fortitude to support
repeated defeats, to struggle on when the prospect seems darkest,
does not belong to my people.
"It is for this reason that I have no hope that Ireland will ever
regain its independence. She may struggle against the yoke, she
may blaze out again and again in bloody risings, our sons may die
in tens of thousands for her; but never, I believe, as long as the
men of the two countries remain what they are, will Ireland recover
her independence, for, in the long run, English perseverance and
determination will overcome the fitful courage of the Irish. I
grieve that I should say it. I mourn that I feel it my duty to
repress rather than to encourage the eager desire of my people to
draw the sword and strike for freedom; but such is my conviction.
"But understand, sir knight, that whatever I may think, I shall
not be backward in doing my part. If Ireland again rises, should
the other native chieftains determine to make one more effort to
drive the English across the channel, be sure that Fergus of Killeen
and the men of Donegal will be in the front of the battle. No heart
beats more warmly for freedom than mine; and did I stand alone I
would take to the bogs and join those who shelter there, defying
the might of England. But I have my people to think of. I have seen
how the English turn a land to desolation as they sweep across it,
and I will not bring fire and sword into these mountain valleys
unless all Ireland is banded in a common effort. You have seen
Scotland wasted from sea to sea, her cities burned, her people
slain by thousands, her dales and valleys wasted; and can you tell
me that after these years of struggle you have gained any such
advantage as would warrant your advising me to rise against England?"
Archie was silent. Thinking over the struggle in which he had
taken part for so many years, and remembering the woes that it had
brought on Scotland, and that, after fighting so long, Bruce and
the handful of fugitives at Rathlin were the sole survivors of the
patriotic party, he could not but acknowledge at heart the justice
of the chiefs words. His sole hope for Scotland now rested in the
perseverance and personal valour of the king, and the stubborn
character of the people, which he felt assured would lead them
to rise again and again, in spite of disaster and defeat, until
freedom was won. The Irish possessed no Bruce; their country was
less defendible than Scotland; and if, as Fergus said, they had none
of that indomitable perseverance which enabled the Scotch people
again and again to rise against the yoke, what hope could there
be of final success, how could he be justified in urging upon the
chieftain a step which would bring fire and sword into those quiet
valleys! For some time, therefore, after Ronald had translated the
chief's speech he remained silent.
"I will not urge you further, sir," he said, "for you are surely
the best judge of what is good for your people, and I have seen
such ruin and desolation in Scotland, so many scores of ruined
towns and villages, so many thousands of levelled homesteads, that
I will not say a single word to urge you to alter your resolution.
It is enough for me that you have said that if Ireland rises you
will also draw the sword. I must carry out my instructions, and
hence shall travel south and visit other chiefs; they may view
matters differently, and may see that what Ireland cannot do alone
she may do in conjunction with Scotland."
"So be it!" Fergus said. "Believe me, if you raise a flame through
the west the north will not hang back. And now I trust that you
will remain here for a few days as my guest. All that I have is
yours, and my wife and daughters will do their best to make the
time pass pleasantly for you."
Archie remained three days at the chiefs hold, where the primitive
life interested him greatly. A lavish hospitality was exercised.
Several sheep were killed and roasted each day, and all comers were
free to join the repast. The chief's more immediate retainers, some
twenty in number, ate, lived, and slept in the great hall; while
tables were spread outside, at which all who came sat down without
question. The upper rooms of the hold were occupied by the chief,
the ladies of his family, and the female domestics. Here they retired
when they felt disposed, but their meals were served on the dais.
In the evening the harper played and sang legends of deeds of bravery
in the day of Ireland's independence; and as Ronald translated the
songs to him Archie could not but conclude privately that civil war,
rapine, strife, and massacre must have characterized the country
in those days.
At the conclusion of his stay Fergus appointed two of the retainers
to accompany Archie south, and to give assurance to the various
wild people through whom he might pass, that Archie's mission was
a friendly one to Ireland, and that he was an honoured friend and
guest of the chief of Killeen.
On his arrival in Mayo Archie found matters more favourable to his
mission. An insurrection had already broken out, headed by some of
the local chieftains, originating in a broil between the English
soldiers of a garrison and the natives. The garrison had been
surprised and massacred, and the wild Irish were flocking to arms.
By the chieftains here Archie, on explaining his mission, was warmly
welcomed. As they were already in arms no urging on his part was
needed, and they despatched messengers throughout the country,
saying that an emissary from Scotland had arrived, and calling upon
all to rise and to join with the Scotch in shaking off the yoke of
England.
Archie had therefore to travel no farther, and decided that he
could best carry out his mission by assisting to organize and lead
the Irish forces. These he speedily discovered were beyond all
comparison inferior, both in arms, in discipline, and in methods
of fighting, to the Scots. For a dashing foray they would be
excellent. Hardy, agile, and full of impetuosity, they would bear
down all resistance instantly, were that resistance not too strong;
but against stubborn and well armed troops they would break like
a wave against a rock. Archie saw that with such troops anything
like regular war would be impossible, and that the struggle must
be one of constant surprises, attacks, and forays, and that they
could succeed only by wearing out and not by defeating the enemy.
With such tactics as these they might by long perseverance succeed;
but this was just what Fergus had warned him they would not practise,
and that their courage was rather of a kind which would lead them
to dash desperately against the line of levelled spears, rather
than continue a long and weary struggle under apparently hopeless
circumstances.
The chiefs, hearing from Archie that he had acted as one of Wallace's
lieutenants in battles where the English had been heavily defeated,
willingly consented that he should endeavour to instil the tactics
by which those battles had been won into their own followers; but
when they found that he proposed that the men should remain stationary
to withstand the English charges, they shook their heads.
"That will never do for our people," they said. "They must attack
sword in hand. They will rush fearlessly down against any odds, but
you will never get them steadily to withstand a charge of men-at-arms."
Archie, however, persuaded them to allow him to organize a band of
two hundred men under his immediate orders. These were armed with
long pikes, and were to form a sort of reserve, in order that if
the wild charge of the main body failed in its object these could
cover a retreat, or serve as a nucleus around which they could
rally. The army swelled rapidly; every day fresh chiefs arrived
with scores of wild tribesmen. Presently the news came that an
English force was advancing from the Pale against them. A council
was held at which Archie was present. Very strongly he urged his
views upon the chieftains, namely: that they should altogether
decline a pitched battle; but that, divided into numerous parties,
they should enter the Pale, destroying weak garrisons and ravaging
the country, trying to wear out the English by constant skirmishes
and night attacks, but refusing always to allow themselves to be
tempted into an engagement.
"The English cannot be everywhere at once," he urged. "Let them
hold only the ground on which their feet stand. As they advance
or retire, close ever in on their rear, drive off their cattle and
destroy their crops and granaries in the Pale; force them to live
wholly in their walled towns, and as you gain in strength capture
these one by one, as did we in Scotland. So, and so only, can you
hope for ultimate success."
His advice was received with a silence which he at once saw betokened
disapproval. One after another of the Irish chieftains rose and
declared that such a war could not be sustained.
"Our retainers," they said, "are ready to fight, but after fighting
they will want to return to their homes; besides, we are fifteen
thousand strong, and the English men-at-arms marching against us
are but eight hundred; it would be shameful and cowardly to avoid a
battle, and were we willing to do so our followers would not obey
us. Let us first destroy this body of English, then we shall be
joined by others, and can soon march straight upon Dublin."
Archie saw that it was hopeless to persevere, and set out the
following day with the wild rabble, for they could not be termed
an army, to meet the English. The leaders yielded so far to his
advice as to take up a position where they would fight with the best
chance of success. The spot lay between a swamp extending a vast
distance, and a river, and they were thus open only to an attack
in front, and could, if defeated, take refuge in the bog, where
horsemen could not follow them.
On the following morning the English were seen approaching. In
addition to the 800 men-at-arms were 1000 lightly equipped footmen,
for experience had taught the English commanders that in such a
country lightly armed men were necessary to operate where the wide
extending morasses prevented the employment of cavalry. The English
advanced in solid array: 300 archers led the way; these were
followed by 700 spearmen, and the men-at-arms brought up the rear.
The Irish were formed in disordered masses, each under its own
chieftain. The English archers commenced the fight with a shower
of arrows. Scarcely had these began to fall when the Irish with a
tremendous yell rushed forward to the assault. The English archers
were swept like chaff before them. With reckless bravery they threw
themselves next upon the spearmen. The solid array was broken by
the onslaught, and in a moment both parties were mixed up in wild
confusion.
The sight was too much for Archie's band to view unmoved, and these,
in spite of his shouts, left their ground and rushed at full speed
after their companions and threw themselves into the fight.
Archie was mounted, having been presented with a horse by one of
the chiefs, and he now, although hopeless of the final result, rode
forward. Just as he joined the confused and struggling mass the
English men-at-arms burst down upon them. As a torrent would cleave
its way through a mass of loose sand, so the English men-at-arms
burst through the mass of Irish, trampling and cutting down all in
their path. Not unharmed, however, for the Irish fought desperately
with axe and knife, hewing at the men-at-arms, stabbing at the
horses, and even trying by sheer strength to throw the riders to
the ground. After passing through the mass the men-at-arms turned
and again burst down upon them. It was a repetition of the first
charge. The Irish fought desperately, but it was each for himself;
there was neither order nor cohesion, and each man strove only to
kill a foe before being himself slain. Archie and the chiefs, with
the few mounted men among the retainers, strove in vain to stem
the torrent. Under the orders of their leaders the English kept
in a compact mass, and the weight of the horses and armour bore
down all opposition. Four times did the men-at-arms burst through
the struggling mass of Irish. As they formed to charge the fifth
time the latter lost heart, and as if acting under a simultaneous
influence they turned and fled.
The English horse burst down on the rear of the mass of fugitives,
hewing them down in hundreds. Those nearest to the river dashed in,
and numbers were drowned in striving to cross it. The main body,
however, made for the swamp, and though in the crush many sank in
and perished miserably here, the great majority, leaping lightly
from tuft to tuft, gained the heart of the morass, the pursuing
horse reining up on its edge.
Ronald had kept near Archie in the fight, and when all was lost
ran along by the side of his horse, holding fast to the stirrup
leather. The horsemen still pressed along between the river and
the morass, and Archie, following the example of several of the
chiefs, alighted from his saddle, and with his companion entered
the swamp. It was with the greatest difficulty that he made his
way across it, and his lightly armed companion did him good service
in assisting several times to drag him from the treacherous mire
when he began to sink in it. At last they reached firmer ground in
the heart of the swamp, and here some 5000 or 6000 fugitives were
gathered. At least 4000 had fallen on the field. Many had escaped
across the river, although numbers had lost their lives in the
attempt. Others scattered and fled in various directions. A few
of the chiefs were gathered in council when Archie arrived. They
agreed that all was lost and there was nothing to do but scatter
to their homes. Archie took no part in the discussion. That day's
experience had convinced him that nothing like a permanent and
determined insurrection was possible, and only by such a movement
could the Scottish cause be aided, by forcing the English to send
reinforcements across St. George's Channel. After seeing the
slaughter which had taken place, he was rejoiced at heart that the
rising had commenced before he joined it, and was in no way the
result of his mission, but was one of the sporadic insurrections
which frequently broke out in Ireland, only to be instantly and
sternly repressed.
"We have failed, Sir Knight," one of the chiefs said to him, "but
it was not for want of courage on the part of our men."
"No, indeed," Archie replied through his interpreter; "never did I
see men fight more fiercely, but without discipline and organization
victory is well nigh impossible for lightly armed footmen against
heavy mailclad cavalry."
"The tactics you advised were doubtless good," the chief said; "I
see their wisdom, but they are well nigh impossible to carry out
with such following as ours. They are ever impatient for the fray,
but quickly wearied by effort; ready to die, but not to wait; to
them prudence means cowardice, and their only idea of fighting is
to rush full at a foe. See how they broke the English spearmen!"
"It was right well done," Archie replied, "and some day, when well
trained and disciplined, Irish soldiers will be second to none in
the world; but unless they will submit to training and discipline
they can never hope to conquer the English."
"And now, Sir Knight, what do you propose doing?" the chief said.
"I shall make my way north," Archie replied, "and shall rejoin my
king at Rathlin."
"I will send two of my men with you. They know every foot of the
morasses of this neighbourhood, and when they get beyond the point
familiar to them will procure you two others to take their places.
It will need all your prudence and courage to get through, for
the English men-at-arms will be scouring the country in groups of
four, hunting all those they come across like wolves. See, already!"
and he pointed to the horizon; "they are scattering round the edge
of the morass to inclose us here; but it is many miles round, and
before tomorrow is gone not a man will be left here."
When darkness fell, Archie, accompanied by Ronald and his guides,
set out on his journey. Alone he could never have found his way
through the swamps, but even in the darkness his guides moved along
quickly, following tracks known to them with the instinct of hounds;
Archie kept close on their heels, as a step only a few inches from
the track might plunge him in a deep morass, in which in a few
seconds he would sink out of sight. On nearing the edge of the
bog the guides slackened their pace. Motioning to Archie to remain
where he was, they crept forward noiselessly into the darkness.
Not far off he could hear the calls of the English horsemen. The
sounds were repeated again and again until they died away in the
distance, showing that a cordon had been drawn round the morass so
as to inclose the fugitives from the battle of the previous day.
In a quarter of an hour the guides returned as noiselessly as they
had departed, and Archie continued the march at their heels. Even
greater caution than before was now necessary in walking, for the
English, before darkness had set in, had narrowly examined the edge
of the morass, and had placed three or four men wherever they could
discover the slightest signs of a track. Thus Archie's guides were
obliged to leave the path by which they had previously travelled.
Their progress was slow now, the party only moving for a few yards
at a time, and then halting while the guides searched for ground
solid enough to carry their weight. At last Archie felt the ground
grow firmer under his foot, and a reconnaissance by the guides
having shown them that none of the English were stationed opposite
to them, they left the morass, and noiselessly made their way across
the country until far beyond the English line.
All night they walked, and at daybreak entered another swamp, and
lay down for the day in the long coarse grass growing on a piece of
firm ground deep in its recesses. In the evening one of the guides
stole out and returned with a native of the neighbourhood, who
undertook to show Archie the way on his further journey.
Ten days, or rather nights, of steady journeying brought Archie
again to the rocky shore where he had landed. Throughout he had
found faithful guides, whom he had rewarded by giving, as was often
the custom of the time, in lieu of money, a link or two of one of
his gold chains. He and Ronald again took refuge in the cave where
they had passed the first night of their landing. It was untenanted
now.
Here they abode for a fortnight, Ronald going up every two or three
days to purchase provisions at the scattered cottages. On Saturday
night they lit a great fire just inside the mouth of the cave, so
that while the flames could be seen far out at sea the light would
be unobserved by the garrison of Dunluce or any straggler on the
cliff above. It had been arranged with Duncan that every Saturday
night, weather permitting, he should sail across and look for
a signal fire. The first Saturday night was wild and stormy, and
although they lit the fire they had but slight idea that Duncan
would put out. The following week, however, the night was calm and
bright, and after piling up the fire high they proceeded to the
causeway, and two hours later saw to their joy a boat approaching.
In a few minutes they were on board, and by the following morning
reached Rathlin.
The king and his companions welcomed Archie's return warmly,
although the report which he made showed that there was no hope of
obtaining any serious diversion of the English attack by a permanent
rising in Ireland; and the king, on hearing Archie's account of
all that had passed, assured him that he felt that, although he had
failed, no one, under the circumstances, could have done otherwise.