VAE VICTIS!
After all, Scullabogue was but a retaliation for the eccentricities of
the Gibbet-Rath, where the upper class had given the lower a harsh
lesson in the amenities of warfare. The effect of any great breach of
the law of order is always to throw out of gear the minds of those who
come within its influence, which disturbance varies in form according
to the mental state of the individual affected. The sensitive shrink
appalled; those whose latent propensities to violence are usually kept
within bounds by the law of order escape from its trammels. A large
part of the community is kept to decent courses by fear of social
regulations. It needs but the disturbing force of war, aided by the
example of crime in superiors, to weaken this compelling sense of
discipline and let loose the natural passions.
But let us hurry on; the tale is distressing still, though time has
masked it with a veil of ninety years.
A body of insurgents succeeded in taking Wexford, whose garrison
evacuated it, retiring to Duncannon in disorder. The loyalists there
who had howled over the loss of Enniscorthy, and were still in the
dark as to the tactics of the Executive, grew furious. What was this?
The Helots were ousting their lords and masters, were daring to be
successful; even presumed to follow the example of the squireens, who
had set the fashion of practical jokes. What is fun in one person may
become impudence in another. Pitch-caps and half hangings were met by
_carding_--a bit of genuine humour, whereby the rebels proceeded to
tear the backs of their prisoners with boards stuck full of nails. So
long as the loyalists had it their own way the conceit was amusing;
now it became revoltingly vulgar. Retaliations and reprisals followed
thick 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 precipitately
at sight of a cloud of dust, rallied, and hung about the neighbourhood
watching the moment to attack. They got horses how they could; sacked
and burned private dwellings, whose rare spoils in the way of books
were converted into saddles, with hay-ropes for stirrups. For
ammunition they used pebbles or hardened balls of clay, and by
pounding the necessary materials in mortars, fabricated a kind of
gunpowder which, while fresh, served its purpose well enough. Two or
three cannons which they had captured were mounted on jaunting-cars,
and exploded in awkward fashion by means of wisps of straw in guise of
matches. Strange men, in half priestly garb, arose among the dragons'
teeth, wearing one a helmet, another a clerical head-piece or
discarded bearskin; vying one with the other in ferocious
recklessness. It was now a religious crusade indeed, Protestant
against Catholic, Catholic against Protestant, to the very death.
Theological quibbles were forcibly disentangled.
The little garrison of Gorey, which had done such good service by
sallying 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, for
it was on the high road to the capital, and an accident might produce
fatal riots there. Therefore, although it was not in accordance with
the plan laid down, it was resolved at the Castle to assist Gorey. One
Walpole, a carpet-knight, connected by blood with my lord Camden, was
sent out to try his wings; and he caracoled upon his excursion as, in
a non-hunting district, one might go out to exterminate a batch of fox
cubs. Carelessly he led his reinforcements, enlivening the way with
buoyant jest, as if the enemy was too contemptible to be really
dangerous; neglecting the commonest precautions, though warned of his
rashness by his officers. At a spot called Tubbineering the aspect of
the landscape, flat hitherto, changes. The road leaves the open, and
plunges between high banks, with wide ditches at their bases, and rows
of close bushes on their tops. Dense hedges intersect the fields,
which (in the month of June) are thick with luxuriant foliage, while
the ground is occupied by rich potato-crops, standing corn, and waving
grass, affording ample concealment for such as may choose to lurk in
it.
Through this defile Walpole led his men towards Gorey, carolling his
stave, piping his little song, in close column, without flanking
parties or skirmishers. The infantry were well advanced. As the road
narrowed the progress of the column became slow and difficult.
Suddenly, from the enclosures, a wild yell burst forth, accompanied by
a rain of musketry. The carpet-knight fell on the first fire. The
confusion was tremendous; to fight or to retreat impossible. The
height and mazy number of the fences made the ground most favourable
for bandit warfare, as the long pikes of the insurgents reached
well-nigh across the narrow road, and those who escaped the first fire
were perforated from behind by invisible assailants. The surprise of
the troops was complete. Dragoons and infantry rolled in hopeless
confusion one on the other. They were butchered to a man. The
victorious rebels followed up their advantage, and hastened to occupy
Gorey, but alas! cajoled by whisky the men of Father Murphy were no
more tractable than the men of Father Roche. Vainly he set mattrasses
against the cellar-doors, in hopes that these would escape their
scrutiny. But the instinct of Pat would find out a cellar-door on the
pitchiest night. Regardless of the father's exhortations, Pat hurried
to put that in his mouth which should steal away his brains--aye, and
his hopes too--and remained in a frantic paroxysm of drunkenness for
five whole days and nights.
Now, had this triumphant detachment (twenty thousand strong it was)
marched straight on Arklow, then on Wicklow, both would certainly have
given way without an effort, and Father Murphy's ambition might have
been gratified of sleeping in my lord Camden's bed. But as the
elements fought for England, so did the unstable Irish nature combat
on 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 the
Privy Council, perceiving that things might be going just a little too
far, graciously acceded to the humble petition of the faithful Lords
and Commons, and despatched reinforcements southwards.
At this moment the position of the insurgents was by no means a
despicable one, despite the weakness of their leaders. The failure at
New Ross had compelled them for the time to abandon their attack on
Waterford. But they held Enniscorthy and its river, and Wexford with
its noble harbour; while, for a base of operations, nothing could have
been better than Vinegar Hill. To the north, too, they held Gorey,
which was almost, from their point of view, the key of the capital
itself. The hedges along the Dublin road were alive with disaffected
peasants, who were longing for an opportunity of joining the advancing
host. 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 as
it proceeded by a torrent of exhilarated patriots.
But now the mice had played enough. They had nibbled the cheese and
made unpleasant holes in it. It was time for the cat to pounce, and to
pounce with a will. How dared these arrogant mice make holes in his
Majesty's cheese? Arklow would be the next point--of course it
would--so soon as the victors of Gorey could tear themselves away from
alcohol. Five days of constant intoxication is trying to the most
vigorous frame. Five days of cessation of hostilities is eminently
convenient to an enemy who desires to act unflurried. Dublin was
frightened out of its wits; the heads of the Catholic clergy were
indignant and ashamed. Those lords and gentlemen who did not happen to
be slaves of Lord Clare, or pensioners of England, shut themselves up
in their country mansions to brood over their grief. Erin was in the
convulsions which precede dissolution. The Executive--calculating
spectators of the agony--deemed it time to come to her succour,
provided she would swear an oath to behave herself for ever and ever
more. The Executive shook its wig and declared that to stop so awful a
scandal any means were permissible. Instead of dribbling
reinforcements by two or three hundred at a time, and so feeding the
hopes of the rebels with sham victories, the Privy Council promised
that the whole military strength at their command should be put in
motion to punish the iniquitous with a severe and righteous sternness.
Lord Clare assumed a picturesque attitude, in which sorrow was
elegantly blended with anger--like that aggressive angel who never
sinned, and who, glorying in the fact, postured with his waving sword
at the gates of Eden. Lord Camden mumbled, as usual, that the whole
affair 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 his
prodigious services. The Protestant inhabitants of Wexford, whose
lives for the last week or so had resembled those of the chosen people
by the waters of Babylon, must instantly be relieved, he gurgled.
Enniscorthy must be retaken; the camp at Vinegar Hill, and the hill
itself, if necessary, must be blown into smithereens. Small men had
been good enough for small work. Now General Lake himself, Commander
of the Forces _pro tem_., must head the Royal troops; the loyal Lords
and Commons had no need to knock their knees together, their precious,
honourable lives were in no real danger--never had been. General Lake
and his men would set matters straight in a trice.
Having torn them at last from the whisky-bottle of Capua, Father
Murphy 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 stood
bareheaded in the June sunlight, with nature smiling around.
'It was a holy war,' Murphy said. 'They had been guilty of
backsliding; but man is weak and temptation is great; he would pray to
the Holy Mother for them, that the cause might not suffer through
their sin. He who addressed them, was, as they knew, invulnerable.
These myriad bullets which he held in his hand had passed through his
coat' ('See, boys, the holes!'), 'but could not hurt his skin. 'Twas
the Holy Mother who watched over him and them. He would lead the van.
Sure they would follow their priest--their pastor--their friend--their
gineral!'
With howls of ecstatic and repentant fervour they cried out that they
would. He had always led them to victory, their doughty priest! One
more, two more successes, and Dublin would be theirs; then the whole
country would unite; the Sassenagh would be driven into the sea; the
object 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 with
awful slaughter. The Royalists lost sixty men, the rebels left a
thousand corpses stark upon the grass--amongst them, Murphy the
invulnerable. With dismay and despair they beheld his body roasted by
the enlightened foe; in the gloaming they saw devils, in the guise of
yeomen, dancing round the steaming corpse; fiends cleaning their boots
with the fat that dripped from it. With howls of superstitious horror
now they scurried away in the darkness, over field and hedge and
fosse, through dyke and brake, in an agony of desperate fear quite
different from a battle-panic, and arrived at length at the rendezvous
like madmen, panting, incoherent, to tell their fearsome story.
Orders were issued to the Royalist forces to hold themselves in
readiness. They had been ready for months past. A grand combined
attack was to be made upon the rebel base, at Vinegar Hill, on the
21st of June. Lock, stock, and barrel, these insolent varlets were to
be stamped out of existence, without parleying, as a warning to all
traitors. Eight generals (no less) and twenty thousand soldiers were
to take part in this glorious field-day. Why had this force lain idle
hitherto? Why were driblets despatched to contend with myriads? It was
now the 10th. With a cunning steadiness of purpose, almost too wicked
even for humankind, ten days were permitted to elapse before the final
blow was struck. Ten days of inaction--ten days of rumination over the
awful future--ten days wherein to become utterly disorganised, and to
commit such deeds as a carefully-fanned flame of accumulated hate and
the hopelessness of unutterable despair should dictate. The insurgents
saw themselves on the eve of destruction, taught by a bitter past that
there was no hope or chance of mercy. Flung out of the pale of
humanity, they were to be hunted down like vermin--like vermin then
they would fly at the throats of the hunters, and do all the harm they
could ere they received the _coup de grace_. A scene of horror
commenced at Wexford, and endured during these ten days, over which we
will draw a veil. Those who know aught of this spasm in Irish history
will have been already sickened by the deeds on Wexford Bridge, and
will be glad to be spared a new recital of them. Suffice it, that if
General Lake had started immediately after the repulse of Arklow,
these deeds would never have been committed. The desperate wretches
would never have entered on their carnival of carnage; would never
have been guilty of the crimes which, like Scullabogue and other
nightmares, 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. A
simultaneous attack was to be made on Wexford and Enniscorthy, while
the main body directed its attention to Vinegar Hill, which was to be
carefully surrounded in order that no vermin might escape. If this
delectable plan had been successfully carried out, the rebels would
have been netted and slaughtered by thousands; but that Providence
which had slept so long, which had been so blind to human wrongs, so
deaf to human prayers, awoke at last and prevented this wicked thing.
At the critical moment two brigades were missing, the circle was
incomplete, and, after a feeble cannonade, the rebel masses retired
through the gap left by the missing links, to spread terror in the
streets of Enniscorthy. Lake was furious. All that ingenuity could
suggest had been brought to bear upon his plan. It is provoking when
accident upsets our craftiest calculations. He had the mortification
to perceive that he had not crushed the rebellion so completely as he
had wished--by driving all the malcontents off the face of the earth.
He abused his generals, but they showed that the fault was none of
theirs; a higher power had checked their movements. Moore had met
accidentally with a small detachment of rebels, who engaged him at
Foulke's Mill; Needham, with a vivid remembrance of the disaster at
Tubberneering, had moved through gorges with caution, delayed now and
again by the errors of disaffected guides, the sulky inaction of
impressed drivers. Lake might swear, but these were the facts. It was
a pity; for, with the exception of the two missing links, the Royalist
columns behaved admirably. They arrived at their posts in the nick of
time. The rebels, in spite of their strong position, did little
damage, for they aimed, as usual, too high. The priestly warriors
acted 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 a
brass helmet on his head. Father Clinch, of Enniscorthy, a man of huge
stature, was conspicuous upon the hill; his broad cross-belts and
large 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 doomed
crowds. They fell back on Enniscorthy; sued there for mercy, in vain.
They promised, as the men of Wexford had just done, to lay down their
arms and return to their allegiance. Lake retorted by an offer of
terms which were impossible of acceptance, and continued his bloody
work. Every foot of Enniscorthy was stubbornly disputed, every yard
was fiercely contested. The bridge was cleared at last. The jostling,
shrieking mob spread itself upon the plain; their bodies lay heaped
about the fields.
So the eight generals were crowned with laurels. The entire struggle
had lasted a month, which might have been put down in two days. The
enemy was finished off at a single blow--at last--a worthy enemy! An
honourable triumph! Disciplined forces had fought successfully against
a rabble so besotted as to believe that a blessed bit of paper round
the neck would make them bullet-proof; so ignorant as to run after
falling shells and pick them up, wondering, as they did so, what the
strange things were that 'spat at them.'
When Scotland chose to rise, her misguided antics were repressed at
once. Her leaders met the fate which they had courted, and there was
an end of the matter. With Ireland it was otherwise. The freaks of her
unstable nature were coldly calculated on; gins were set for her
sliding feet; she fell into a trap, and grievous was her punishment.
When the Americans rose against British misrule, their commanders were
always treated with military courtesy. In Ireland masters and men were
strung up side by side, or shot down, without a 'by your leave,' like
dogs. Till the horror of a war of classes was intensified by the
grafting on it of religious fanaticism, the opinions of the
malcontents were of the broadest kind. All they demanded was social
equality and freedom of conscience. Their demands were met by blows.
Innocent and harmless men were lacerated by petty tyranny and wanton
ill-usage, till they could endure no more. Then prudence was thrown to
the winds. It was like the herd of maddened swine rushing headlong
down a precipice into the gulf.
As far as concerns the 'Hurry,' the example of massacre was set in the
first instance by the 'Party of Order.' The rebels tried sometimes to
proselytise; the Royalists were content to murder. The Royalists were
never anything but cruel. The rebels hovered strangely 'twixt lenity
and cruelty, according to the humour of the moment. With the supposed
advantage of a little education, the squireens out-heroded the conduct
of those who were quite ignorant; whereby we may gather that a little
knowledge is as fatal as a little of anything else; for their scraps
of education, instead of tempering their native savagery, merely
served to instil into their warped minds an idea of superiority and
dominion.
So far as the Croppies were concerned, the rebellion ended with the
clever feat of General Lake. The few who escaped his vengeance spread
themselves over the country in predatory bands. Some sought refuge in
the Wicklow hills; some perished miserably as banditti; few ever
returned to their homes. It was not death so much that the Irish
peasant feared. His life was wretched. He had been brought up to
consider that three kinds of death were natural--first, in his bed;
secondly, by hanging at assize time; thirdly, of collapse when the
potato crop went wrong. He could face death. _It was torture that he
dreaded_--the pitch-caps, the picketings, the roastings alive, the
lash. These it was that made a savage and a coward of him.
So far as the executive was concerned, the rebellion was by no means
over. Gordon, a Protestant clergyman and reliable witness, tells us
that 'more than fell in battle in Wexford were slain afterwards in
cold blood.' Those who would not surrender were hunted down; those who
did were strung up without a form of trial. Vinegar Hill became
_elastic_ through the numberless victims who had found rest and a
merciful oblivion beneath its sod.
So soon as massacre, in garb of war, had done her work, judicial
murder commenced on a more extended scale. When the appetite of Ate
was sated in the country, she moved with the Eumenides--faithful and
obedient maids of honour--to the capital, for change of air and scene.
END OF VOL. II.