The actual strength of the rebel army wa_Cruikshank's Water Colours

computed at 25,000 men, and on good authority it has been even raised to

31,000. About 5000 of the insurgents, were armed with firearms, and they

brought two well-appointed guns into action. But it was not from their

enormous numbers only that they were formidable. They came forward under

the wildest enthusiasm, burning to exact vengeance for past defeats, and

confident they must annihilate the small but daring body who, undaunted

by a twenty-fold superiority, were steadily awaiting their attack.

During the morning’s march from Gorey they plundered the houses of

the Protestants of everything valuable, putting in requisition all the

spirits and provisions that could be supplied; and, under the double

influence of intoxication and fanaticism, were led on by their priests,

who inspired them with ideas of their own invincibleness; because, as

they assured the misguided wretches, they were engaged in the cause of

heaven, and opposed to the enemies of God. To maintain that religious

frenzy which was their great source of courage, at the end of every

mile during the march their leaders said mass, and used every mode

of exhortation and every superstitious device that priestcraft could

invent. They advanced in an irregular line, which was frequently broken

by their running out to file along the hedge-rows lying parallel to the

position of the king’s troops, of the cover of which they endeavoured

to avail themselves. Their front rank was composed of those who had

firearms, and were mostly from the barony of Shelmalier, on the Wexford

coast, where they subsist during the winter by shooting sea-fowl,

which makes them expert marksmen. They were covered in the rear by the

pikemen, many deep, while at certain intervals the line was strengthened

by numerous masses of men, who were ready to supply the places of those

who fell, or act as occasion might require. Each company had a green

flag about two feet square, with a yellow harp in the centre, while

some were parti-coloured, and equal in size to the king’s colours. Their

leaders were distinguishable riding through the ranks, marshalling them

and giving orders. During the engagement the rebels frequently repeated

their dreadful yells, which heightened the terrific appearance of

a numerous host of barbarians, who seemed confident, from superior

numbers, that they could easily overwhelm the small army that opposed

them.

The rebels advanced two guns by the Coolgreney road, under a sharp and

destructive fire from those on the right of the Durham regiment, and the

third in position at the barricade. Both of the former were dragged up

by lanes on the high road and placed on high grounds, one looking on the

centre of the royalist line, the other commanding its left flank.

Although tedious in their formation, the insurgent column directed

against the lower town advanced so rapidly that they had nearly

succeeded in cutting off a cavalry patrol, which saved itself, however,

by swimming the horses across the Ovoca. Having fired the houses in the

suburb, the rebels pushed on under cover of the smoke, but they never

could gain the bridge, as the fire of the detached party, which covered

that approach, and the second, which held the churchyard, cut down the

head of the column, and finally disordered it so much as to allow the

cavalry, formed on the sands, to charge with excellent effect. During

a long and desperate struggle the troops behaved with a steadiness and

determination which enabled them not only to secure the lower town, but

to inflict a destructive loss upon the assailants.

But the grand effort of the insurgents was directed against the left and

centre of the position and the barricade that covered its right flank.

From behind the hedges the rebels kept up a steady and well-directed

fusilade, and also commanded the royal line with such effect as to

dismount a battalion gun and oblige Colonel Skerrett to advance his left

wing and protect it behind a fence from the fire of a field-piece, which

otherwise must have enfiladed it. The gallantry of the Durham Fencibles

was unbounded. Thrice the rebels came forward in immense force against

the wing of this noble regiment, and as often a destructive volley

from their musketry, with grape from the battalion guns, obliged the

assailants to recede from a fire they found intolerable. But, maddened

by intoxication and encouraged by their ghostly leader, the deluded

wretches again and again returned to the attack, and the General,

despairing of repulsing the continued efforts of desperate savages,

determined to yield the ground and abandon the position. Colonel

Skerrett, well aware that to retire with a handful of beaten troops in

the presence of five-and-twenty thousand men would lead to their total

destruction, as sternly resolved to hold the post he had taken to the

last; and an unforeseen event decided the fortune of this doubtful day,

and crowned the gallant few with well-merited victory.

As long as the redoubtable Murphy of Ballycanoo--who hitherto seemed

to bear a charmed life--remained to lead his demented and infatuated

followers, all that the assailed could effect was to frantically hold

their ground, their assailants continuing to rally after each repulse.

It may be judged how critical was the situation of the defending

royalists. Murphy, as described, had led his legions within a few paces

of the barricade, and was encouraging his adherents by waving his famous

banner of ‘Death or Liberty’ at the head of the advancing hordes he was

leading to the charge, when a round-shot from one of the Durham guns

struck him down; the invincibility charm was broken, and the rebels fled

dismayed. About eight o’clock, when it was growing dusk, they began

to retreat towards Coolgreney in an irregular and disorderly manner,

carrying off nine cart-loads of dead and wounded. Had the cavalry but

had sufficient daylight to have pursued them, they must have cut off

great numbers in the retreat.

The loss of the rebels was said to have amounted fully to one thousand,

while that of the royalists in killed and wounded did not exceed sixty

or seventy.

Although night saved the rebels from any pursuit, and probably thus

abated their losses extensively, as the wounded were enabled to crawl

away, the moral effect of their defeat was incalculable, obliterating

entirely the false confidence which the affairs at Oulart and Three

Rocks and the calamity at Tubberneering had produced. The mischief

occasioned by their first neglect of seizing Arklow when deserted by its

garrison was consummated by the defeat attendant on the attempt on the

part of the rebels to redeem their original error and carry the town

when it had been rendered defensible. Had the insurgents not lost time

at Gorey--had they advanced and seized Arklow--Wicklow and Bray must of

necessity have fallen into their hands without the snapping of a

flint. The metropolis, as Father Murphy’s intercepted letter revealed,

assaulted by 100,000 reckless men, like the warlike priest’s followers,

with the fourteen pieces of cannon at that time in their possession,

joined in Dublin by the rising of a proportionate force similarly armed,

might have effected their wicked object.

The effect of the defeat, and the deductive inferences from it, as drawn

by Gordon as our authority observes, are interesting and correct:--

‘As the repulse at Arklow,’ writes Gordon in his _History_, ‘decided the

fate of the rebellion, so it fortunately left undecided a question

how far the Romanists would have carried religious animosity had the

insurrection been successful. The violent acts of the insurgents at

Gorey and its neighbourhood were not near so great as in the southern

parts of the county. The former might, by an advocate of their cause, be

coloured with a pretext of retaliation, since acts of the same kind

had been committed by the loyalists, as the burning of houses, the

quartering of men on families for subsistence, imprisonments, trials of

prisoners by court-martial, the shooting of prisoners without trial, and

the insulting of others by cropping the hair and covering the head with

a pitched cap. But an opinion is entertained, I fear indeed with too

much foundation, that if the town of Arklow had been taken, and thus a

wide prospect opened for the success of the rebellion, the Protestants

remaining in the power of the Catholic rebels in the county of Wexford

were to have been massacred.

Many believe also that the persons excepted from the first massacre were

destined for ultimate slaughter on the final success of the insurgents,

and that even such leaders of the rebels as were Protestants were to

be included in this proscription. The war from the beginning--in direct

violation of the oath of the United Irishmen--had taken a religious

turn, as every civil war in the south or west of Ireland must be

expected to take by any man acquainted with the prejudices of the

inhabitants. The terms Protestant and Orangeman were synonymous with

the mass of the insurgents; and the Protestants they meant to favour had

been baptized into the Romish Church by the priests of that communion.

But whatever degree of religious bigotry or party hatred had been

hitherto discovered by the insurgents, there were still many individuals

who evinced the greatest humanity in their endeavours to mitigate the

fury of their associates.’

[[[CAPTURE OF VINEGAR HILL]]]

[Illustration: 0557]

|The fatal effects of the defeat at Arklow in the subsequent fortunes

of the insurrection became every day more apparent, and during these

transactions the rebels who remained at Gorey and its neighbourhood were

gradually dispersing. ‘A part of them retired to Wexford, bringing with

them the prisoners who had been confined in the market-house of Gorey.

These had been severely treated; they had been supplied with food only

once in the twenty-four hours, cropped, pitch-capped, and exposed from

the windows to the insults of the shouting multitudes on their march to

attack Arklow, while many had been shot or piked to death. As the mass

of remaining rebels had taken their station on the hill of Ask, only

a mile from Gorey, after the battle of Arklow, the royal army remained

some days close within its quarters, sending out patrols with caution,

at first to a very small distance, and afterwards gradually advancing

further. At last a troop of yeomen cavalry ventured so far on the road

towards Gorey as to approach the rebel station on Ask hill, and found

the post had been so thinned by perpetual desertions that not more than

about a hundred men fit for action were then remaining in it, and these

without a leader.’

For every reason, military and political, it was now unanimously

determined by the royalist commanders that the relief of Wexford and

Enniscorthy, so long and so unhappily in possession of the rebels, must

be preceded by the capture of the camp and a total dispersion of the

insurgent bodies collected on Vinegar Hill. To effect this difficult but

desirable object a vigorous and well-combined attack would be required,

and on the 16th of June the preparatory movements of the different corps

were arranged by General Lake; to Generals Dundas, Needham, Johnson,

Sir Charles Asgill, Wilkinson, Sir James Duff, Loftus, and Moore were

assigned plans of operations covering three or four days; some of these

movements were delayed from various eventualities, and two brigades were

unfortunately absent at the final assault on Vinegar Hill. As the attack

was to be made immediately after daybreak on the 21st, and as it was

utterly impossible that by any exertions his wearied troops could

reach their ground in time, Needham despatched an aide-de-camp to the

Commander-in-Chief requesting the advance to be delayed for an hour,

to allow him time to get up; but General Lake could not postpone his

movements against the rebel position, as an immediate assault upon

the camp was absolutely necessary to prevent the enemy from detaching

reinforcements to their friends at Enniscorthy, who were then warmly

engaged with Johnson’s brigade. Under these circumstances General

Needham, finding it impossible to get the column up, very properly

pushed his cavalry forward; and when the rebels broke upon the hill,

they were sufficiently advanced to cut down a number of the fugitives.

General Sir James Duff, who advanced by the Ferns road, with his right

resting on the Slaney and his left flanked by the light infantry

under General Loftus, reached the base of the hill with occasional

interruptions from rebel pickets, who occupied the high grounds on the

line of march, but who were easily dispersed by a few shells from the

howitzers. Previous to commencing his ascent he detached General Loftus

with the light infantry and guns to seize an eminence which overlooked

the lower line of the rebel position, and consequently laid it open to a

cannonade at easy range. The movement was rapidly effected, and although

the enclosures were numerous and the ground steep, General Loftus,

by breaking down the stone fences, was enabled to get his artillery

forward, and, crowning the height with his guns, he opened them with

excellent effect upon crowded ranks, which were completely enfiladed.

The remainder of Duff’s brigade pressed steadily up the hill, and at

the same time the columns of Generals Lake, Wilford, and Dundas, with

Campbell’s light companies, ascended the south-eastern face, while

Johnson’s brigade mounted from Enniscorthy.

As the troops advanced they sustained a sharp fire from the rebel

marksmen, who, acting _en tirailleur_, lined the numerous enclosures

and disputed them with some spirit. The rebel cannonade was ineffective,

although they had thirteen pieces of various calibres on the hill, but

their musketry was well sustained, and yet, with all the advantages of

a strong position, the loss inflicted on the assailants was infinitely

less than could have been anticipated. The steady advance of the troops

was never for a moment checked, and the movements of the columns so

admirably timed that they crowned the hill simultaneously, while the

rebels, availing themselves of the means of retreat which General

Needham’s failure had unluckily left open, went off _en masse_,

abandoning their cannon, ammunition, and all the plunder that had

been accumulated during the period they had occupied their savage and

sanguinary encampment.

If the wholesale destruction of a deluded multitude were a desirable

object, certainly the failure of this movement is to be lamented, for

the rebels were enabled to get off bodily, whereas had Needham reached

his ground they must have been so totally _derouted_ that no exertions

could have rallied them again, and the flame of rebellion would have

been extinguished. But the results of his failure, and not the cause,

were severely tested at the time, and the General was censured with

injustice for a miscarriage, occasioned by circumstances entirely beyond

control, and of everyday recurrence in war.

The brunt of the action, and the greatest proportion of the loss, fell

upon the brigade commanded by General Johnson (afterwards Sir Henry

Johnson, G.C.B., who may be said, in the rebellion of 1798, to have been

the military saviour of Ireland). On the evening preceding the attack

on Vinegar Hill, that General advanced within a mile and a half of

Enniscorthy, intending to bivouac in the vicinity of the rebel position,

and bring his column fresh into action the next day. The troops had

scarcely, however, piled arms when the rebels in great force issued from

Enniscorthy and moved forward with the apparent intention of attacking

the royalists and hazarding a general action. They advanced in close

columns, covered by a number of sharpshooters, and connected by

several bodies, formed in irregular lines. The rebel skirmishers, after

maintaining a sharp fusilade, were speedily dislodged by the fire of the

cannon, and, falling back on the supporting column, which had halted on

an eminence half a mile from the ground occupied by the royalists, the

guns were directly turned upon the height.

On this occasion these unfortunate and deluded men evinced an ignorance

of warlike missiles which can hardly be conceived. As the round shot

from the guns bedded themselves in the face of the hill against which

they had been directed, the rebels rushed in numbers to pick them up. A

shell from a howitzer falling, it was exultingly surrounded by a crowd

of men, each struggling to become owner of this god-send. The effect of

the explosion may be fancied, as when the fuse reached the powder, more

than fifty of the ignorant wretches were furiously contending for the

possession of the lighted shell.

According to Taylor’s _History_, ‘Here they were cannonaded, and on

seeing the shells they were driven into the utmost confusion, as they

could not conceive what they were, some shouting in a kind of delirium

(as shell followed shell), “They spit fire at us”; others, “We can stand

anything but these guns which fire twice!” Indeed the carnage occasioned

by them was very great, and fully answered the end.’

The night passed, and at daybreak Johnson drove the rebels from the

height and forced them back upon Enniscorthy. After halting an hour,

to allow the general attack upon the hill to operate as a diversion and

employ the main body of the enemy, Johnson pushed his column into the

town. On this occasion the rebels made a stubborn resistance, their

pikemen disputing the streets and their musketry firing upon the

advancing troops from the windows. Every yard was stoutly contested, and

a six-pounder, advanced into the open space before the court-house, was

carried by a sudden rush, the gunners killed, and the piece captured by

the pikemen. But it was immediately retaken; the bridge was cleared

of the enemy, the Dublin regiment cheered and pressed up the hill, and

although that ascent was the steepest, the brave old man reached the

summit as the other columns cleared it.

The royalist casualties were comparatively trifling, and the rebel loss

fell infinitely short of what might have been expected from a _déroute_

so complete as that which followed the loss of their favourite position.

As the greater number of the insurgents were cut down dispersing in the

pursuit, the amount could not be correctly estimated. Probably three or

four hundred might have been slain. One of their favourite generals, a

church-militant leader, was included in the casualties of the day,

for Father Clinch of Enniscorthy was killed while retreating after the

action.

There is a military criticism which is placed here while summarising

the results of this action. It is given in the _M.S. Journal of a Field

Officer_:--‘There is one point which has never been explained to my

satisfaction. After the defeat at Vinegar Hill the main body of the

rebels retreated to Wexford, where they divided--one column crossed

Wexford bridge, and made their way to the north of the county about

Gorey; now this body must have been due north while General Lake was

moving due south from Vinegar Hill upon Wexford, so that they must have

actually passed each other at a distance of not six miles between the

parallel roads, as a glance at the map will show. Perhaps General Lake

did not consider himself strong enough to divide and occupy both roads

to Wexford, or perhaps he might have thought “the stag at bay’s a

dangerous foe,” and permitted them to weaken themselves by allowing them

to quietly disbandon. It cost, however, much loyal blood at Gorey.’

[[[REBELS EXECUTING THEIR PRISONERS ON THE BRIDGE AT WEXFORD]]]

[Illustration: 0565]

|Wexford was a scene of unexampled horror, where were enacted the most

sanguinary barbarities in emulation of the bloodthirsty atrocities of

the reign of terror; nor can it be an excuse that the monsters avowedly

imitated those terrorising scenes which were made luridly familiar by

the annals of the French Revolution.

The plunder of houses and the incarceration of their innocent victims

after the unfortunate defeat of the Meath detachment at the Three

Rocks, which determined Colonel Maxwell’s fatal retreat from Wexford,

immediately occupied the insurgents.

While the rabble were engaged in collecting numbers of ill-fated

Protestants for future slaughter, the leaders went through the mockery

of establishing a provisional government, and, in imitation of the

French Jacobins, a grand national committee, a council of elders, and

a council of five hundred were to be organised forthwith, while the

dwelling-house of a wealthy merchant was put into requisition as a

senate-house, wherein the different estates were to legislate for the

young republic.

If it were necessary to prove the fallacy that any possibility exists of

retaining influence over a sanguinary and superstitious mob by any means

but acting on their ignorance or pandering to the worst passions of

brutal dispositions, the rebel occupation of Wexford would afford an

ample evidence, and the president of the council and the governor of the

town, in their own sad stories, tell that the baser the _materiel_

of the mob, the briefer is the authority of those who undertake the

direction of its movements. Every day during the rebel occupation of the

town and adjacent encampments, fresh victims continued to be brought

in by the savage pikemen. In Wexford a small sloop, the town jail, and

subsequently the market-house, were filled with unhappy sufferers. A

reign of terror had commenced, the rabble power had become predominant,

and all persons of superior rank or a different faith were denounced by

wretches who associated crime with religion and slaughtered in the name

of God. The chiefs themselves, particularly those few among them who had

been educated in the Protestant religion, were in perpetual danger of

death or violence from an ungovernable multitude, whom they had unwisely

hoped to command.

With such feelings and dispositions it will be a subject of regret, but

not surprise, that now the ferocity of the rabble resisted all control

and blood alone could appease it. The death decree of the wretched

prisoners went forth, and the fearful story of the massacre is

recorded by one who miraculously escaped the fate of his less fortunate

companions. It is a fearful record of butchery, and, alas! the statement

is not over-coloured. The leading monster of these executions was Thomas

Dixon, a relative of the priest, and he may well be described as a fiend

in human form.

On the 19th of June the Protestants in Wexford received the

heart-rending intelligence that all the prisoners were to be murdered

the next day. That night also, one of them, while sitting alone in

silent sorrow, heard the death-bell toll as loud as ever she heard

it, and much more awfully. On the following morning, the

never-to-be-forgotten 20th of June, Thomas Dixon rode to the gaol-door

and swore that not a prisoner should be alive against sun-set. He then

rode into the street repeating the same, with horrid imprecations,

adding ‘that not a soul should be left to tell the tale.’ Good God! how

shall I proceed? neither tongue nor pen can describe the dismal aspect

of that melancholy day,--a day in which the sun did not so much as

glimmer through the frowning heavens. The town-bell rang, and the drums

beat to arms to assemble the rebels for the purpose of joining those

at Three Rocks to march against General Moore’s brigade. In the evening

Dixon assembled the murdering band, and immediately hoisted that

harbinger of destruction, the _Black Flag_, which had on one side a

bloody cross, and on the other the initials M.W.S., that is, ‘murder

without sin,’ signifying that it was no sin to murder a Protestant.

Having paraded for some time to give more solemnity to the scene, the

Protestants who were confined in the gaol and prison ship were led forth

to the slaughter, and conducted to the bridge under a strong guard of

merciless ruffians, piked to death, with every circumstance of barbarous

cruelty, and then flung into the river to leave room for more! While

this work of blood was going on, a rebel captain ran to the Popish

bishop and entreated of him ‘for the mercy of Jesus’ to come and save

the prisoners. The bishop coolly replied that ‘it was no affair of

his.’ All this time the sanguinary pikemen continued butchering the poor

victims on the bridge; some they perforated in places not mortal, to

prolong and increase their torture, others they would raise aloft on

their pikes, and while the miserable victim writhed in extreme agony,

his blood streaming down the handles of their pikes, they exulted round

him with savage joy. In the midst of this terrific scene General Edward

Roche galloped up in great haste and commanded the drums to beat to

arms, declaring that Vinegar Hill was nearly surrounded by the king’s

troops, and that all should repair to camp, as reinforcements were

wanting. This express had a wonderful effect; the assassins instantly

closed the bloody scene and fled in all directions. Some of the rebel

guard returned soon after and conveyed the prisoners back to gaol. But

that sanguinary monster, Thomas Dixon, returning, he soon evinced that

his thirst for blood was not yet satiated by ordering out the remainder

of the prisoners from the gaol and prison ship, the greater part of whom

were tortured to death in like manner as the former. He then proceeded

to the market-house, and having fixed his vulture eye on others, dragged

them to the fatal bridge for execution. After butchering these, a lot of

ten more was brought forth and barbarously murdered. The third time they

took out eighteen, and were massacring them when Dick Monk rode into

town from Vinegar Hill, with his shoes and stockings off, and shouted,

‘D--n your souls, you vagabonds, why don’t you go out and meet the enemy

that are coming in, and not be murdering in cold blood?’ Some Protestant

women followed him and asked him, ‘What news?’ He replied, ‘Bad news,

indeed; the king’s forces are encamped round Vinegar Hill.’ He then

rode towards the convent. Shortly after, Priest Collin was seen running

towards the bridge. There were six of the poor Protestants killed out of

the last party that were taken down before he arrived, and it was with

great difficulty he prevailed on them to spare the rest. After using all

the arguments he could, without effect, he at length took off his

hat and desired them to kneel down and pray for the souls of the poor

prisoners before they put them to death. They did so, and having got

them in the attitude of devotion, he said, ‘Now pray to God to have

mercy on your souls, and teach you to show that kindness towards

them which you expect from Him in the hour of death and in the day

of judgment!’ This had the desired effect; he led them off the bridge

without opposition, and they were sent back to confinement. The

massacre of that day ceased about eight o’clock in the evening. Out

of forty-eight prisoners who had been confined in the market-house,

nineteen only escaped.

Nor were these dreadful cruelties confined to the town alone. In their

camps, and on their marches and retreats, the same execrable barbarities

were constantly committed. No exaggeration can be imputed to those

who escaped death, and afterwards described the sufferings they had

undergone; for the dying confessions of many who were actors in those

scenes of blood, and afterwards paid the penalty of crime, corroborated

the statements of those who had been their prisoners, and confirmed

their truth.

Jackson’s _Narrative_ affords further dreadful details of the Protestant

martyrdoms enacted on Wexford bridge:--

‘They thus continued till about seven o’clock to convey parties of

prisoners, from ten to twenty, from the gaol, the market-house, and the

prison ship, where many of them were confined, to the bridge, where they

butchered them. Every procession was preceded by the black flag, and

the prisoners were surrounded by ruthless pikemen, as guards and

executioners, who often insultingly desired them to bless themselves.

‘The mob, consisting of more women than men, expressed their savage joy

on the immolation of each of the victims by loud huzzas.

‘The manner in general of putting them to death was thus: Two rebels

pushed their pikes into the breast of the victim, and two into his back;

and in that state (writhing with torture) they held him suspended till

dead, and then threw him over the bridge into the water.

‘After they had massacred ninety-seven prisoners in that manner, the

insurgents were taken off their blood-thirsty work by the cry “to camp!

to camp!”’

Musgrave, in the Appendix to his _Memoirs_, relates:--‘After taking

possession of Enniscorthy they planted the Tree of Liberty, with shouts

of “Vive la République” and “Erin go Bragh!” Here the work of

blood immediately began, and continued every day, more or less, for

twenty-five days--a dreadful specimen of what might be expected from

such a government. One day they were so diabolical as to murder all the

Protestants they had; and not satisfied with this, they sent to Wexford

for more, and every day parties ranged the country, dragging forth all

they could find, to satiate their thirst for blood.’

It is said that not less than four hundred Protestants were massacred in

Enniscorthy and on Vinegar Hill, the bodies of whom lay unburied during

several days.

Meanwhile, the final scene of the tragic occurrences promised to equal,

and perhaps exceed, the terrible events which had preceded it. There is

little doubt that a general and unsparing massacre of the Protestants

had been resolved upon; and although, assisted by an alarm that their

camp was being attacked, the Catholic bishop and clergy had induced

the greater number of the insurgents to quit the town, still the most

ferocious wretches remained, and seemed determined to conclude a period

of anarchy and terrorism by a scene of indiscriminating slaughter.

During the confusion which the precipitate flight of the rebels

occasioned (when they proposed to fire the town, only had no time!),

the bloody Thomas Dixon, mounted on a very fine horse, rode through

the streets with a broad sword drawn and upbraided the rebels for their

timidity and their dilatoriness. ‘If you had followed my advice,’ he

said, ‘in putting all the heretics to death three or four days ago,

it would not have come to this pass.’ Mrs. Dixon--a worthy mate of her

sanguinary husband--who accompanied him on horseback with a sword and

case of pistols, clapped the rebels on the back and encouraged them by

saying, ‘We must conquer; I know we must conquer!’ and she exclaimed

repeatedly, ‘My Saviour tells me we must conquer!’ They repaired to the

bridge to stop the retreat of the rebels, but in vain, though Mrs. Dixon

drew a pistol and swore vehemently ‘that she would shoot any one who

would refuse to return with her to put the remainder of the heretics

to death!’ They endeavoured to raise the portcullis of the bridge to

prevent retreat, but were unable to do so.

It has been said that the butcheries on Wexford bridge were perpetrated

by a small section of the insurgents, kept by that sanguinary monster,

Thomas Dixon, in a state of constant drunkenness, and ever ready to

execute his ruthless orders. Every means were used by the ruffian to

play upon the credulity and excite the worst passions of his followers,

and his fiendish inventions to irritate a brutal mob appear almost

incredible.

The approach of Moore’s brigade, however, freed Wexford from the

banditti who infested it to the last moment, and averted the intended

massacre. ‘Captain Boyd, the member for the town, and commandant of a

corps of mounted yeomen, having ascertained that the great body of the

rebels had returned, asked and obtained permission from General Moore to

enter Wexford, and announce that the army was on its march to occupy the

place. Attended by only a dozen mounted yeomen, Captain Boyd galloped

down the streets, proclaiming to the inhabitants their deliverance. At

five in the evening Moore’s brigade arrived at the heights commanding

Wexford, and bivouacked on the Windmill Hill, while a wing of the

Queen’s regiment marched into the place and took military possession.

Description fails in attempting to set forth the emotions which arose in

the breasts of the poor Protestants who had been doomed to destruction.

Many wept with joy to see their deliverers.’

The Wexford prisons had been scarcely emptied of the Protestant

prisoners who had occupied them until they were tenanted by those who

had lately been the directors of the insurrection. General Lake arrived

on the 22nd, and took up his quarters in the house of Captain Keugh, the

ex-governor, the latter exchanging his former domicile for a jail.

[[[SUMMARY FATE OF THE INSURRECTIONARY CHIEFS]]]

|While some of the rebel chiefs endeavoured to evade the first

outbreak of the royalist excitement by seeking a temporary security in

concealment, others, under the persuasion that the negotiations between

the Wexford leaders and the commanding officers of the troops would

lead to a general amnesty, or, perhaps, in the desperation of their

circumstances, remained in their respective homes, and quietly awaited

the fate they knew to be impending. Grogan had retired to his mansion

at Johnstown, while Harvey repaired to Bargy Castle, from whence, as

a peace-offering, he sent some fat cattle to the commanding officer in

Wexford. On the return of the messenger he found that to the chiefs

of the insurgents mercy would not be extended, and quitting his house,

never to revisit it, he set out to join a fellow-unfortunate, who had

vainly endeavoured to remove himself beyond the reach of the vengeance

of the outraged laws.

Colclough, with his wife and child, had sought a temporary asylum in

one of the Saltee Islands, about six leagues from Wexford; with some

valuables hastily collected, and a few necessaries to maintain life,

they had hidden themselves in a cave, of which the entrance was artfully

concealed. There Harvey joined the unhappy fugitives; and chiefly

through the indiscretion with which he had neglected to keep his fatal

visit secret, the whole party were arrested, brought back, and committed

to close custody.

[[[THE CAPTURE OF COLCLOUGH AND HARVEY]]]

|To these unfortunate gentlemen, John Colclough of Ballyteigue and B.

Baganel Harvey of Bargy Castle, late commander-in-chief of the Wexford

insurgents, a melancholy interest is attached; and the retreat

selected by the hapless fugitives has an air of romance that makes it

interesting. The subject of George Cruikshank’s realistic illustration

of this picturesque incident is founded upon the account given in

Musgrave’s _Memoirs_:--‘The arrest of B. B. Harvey and John Colclough

was attended with some curious circumstances which I shall relate. On

the flight of the rebels from Wexford, the 21st of June, they retreated

to the largest of the Saltee Islands, which Mr. Colclough rented from

Mr. Grogan. Dr. Waddy, a physician who served in the yeomanry, having

got intelligence of their retreat, applied to General Lake for a

proper party and armed vessel to go in quest of them, which he readily

obtained.

‘About three o’clock on Sunday evening, the 23rd of June, he set sail

in the Rutland cutter of ten guns, commanded by Captain Willoughby, with

Lieutenant Turner of the Queen’s, a detachment of his regiment, and

a man-of-war’s boat with a party of sailors well armed. The island is

about six leagues from Wexford, and four or five miles from the southern

coast of the country. The weather was so tempestuous that they were

obliged to reef their sails; and the wind being adverse, they did not

descry the island till about four o’clock in the morning, and could not

cast anchor alongside till eight. When they were approaching it they saw

a small boat pass from the island to the mainland. As it is surrounded

with high precipices, and is accessible but in one place, and as they

expected to be opposed by a party of armed rebels, who, it was believed,

had accompanied Harvey and Colclough, Captain Willoughby prepared to

cover their landing with the cutter’s guns, and they were attended for

the same purpose by the man-of-war’s boat. On landing they repaired to

the only house on the island, occupied by one Furlong, who rented it

from Mr. Colclough. They found there an excellent feather-bed, with fine

sheets which were warm, a handsome tea equipage, some genteel wearing

apparel belonging to both sexes, particularly a pair of pantaloons,

which Dr. Waddy had seen on Mr. Colclough before the rebellion; and,

near the house, some silk shoes and other articles hid in high ferns.

They searched every suspected spot in the island, particularly a place

called the Otter’s Cave, but in vain, though they had not a doubt of

their having been there, as they had found, among other things, a chest

of plate in a concealed place belonging to Mr. Colclough. The doctor

resolved to make another effort by going round the island in a boat, for

the purpose of reconnoitring the sides of it. In doing so he perceived

on the edge of a high precipice one rock lighter coloured than the

adjoining one; and, as the earth near it seemed to have been recently

stirred, he suspected that they had been making preparations there for

their concealment. He therefore again ascended the island, and found

that the approach to the place which he wished to explore was steep,

serpentine, and through some crags. The light-coloured stone covered the

mouth of the cave, and above it was an aperture to let in the light. The

doctor called out to Colclough and told him that if he did not surrender

immediately, and without resistance, he should receive no quarter.

Colclough asked, “Is that Dr. Waddy?” and on his saying “Yes,” he said

he would surrender; and soon after he, at the doctor’s desire, gave

up his arms through the hole of the cave. The doctor threw down the

precipice the stone which covered the mouth of it, which fell with a

monstrous crash; on which Mr. and Mrs. Colclough came forth, dressed in

the meanest habits of peasants for the purpose of disguising themselves.

Then Mr. Harvey came out saying, “My God! my God!” and so pale and weak

from fatigue and anxiety of mind that the doctor was obliged to support

him. He also had a chest of plate concealed, which he gave in charge of

the doctor and his party.’

[Illustration: 0575]

There was little of romance about the sequel; these unfortunates were

simply led off by their captors direct to the scaffold. The prisoners

were arraigned on charges of high treason, and tried by a court-martial.

Among the first to suffer were Father Philip Roach, Captain Keugh, who

deserved a better fate,--he had served his king in America,--and Esmond

Kyan, rebel captain of artillery. The executions took place upon the

bridge, and they were hurried over with little consideration to the last

moments of the dying, or to the feelings of relations who survived them.

Roach was a tall and weighty man, and, on being suspended, the rope

broke, and he fell to the ground, stunned and stupefied. Another halter

was immediately procured; he thus suffered the last penalties of the

law, it might be said, twice over. After death the sufferers were

decapitated, the mutilated bodies cast into the river, the heads placed

upon spikes on the Sessions-House, exposed to public view, thus calling

into operation again one of the most disgusting remnants of feudal

severity upon offenders against the State.

Harvey’s trial commenced on the same evening; he appeared to be much

agitated, and spoke little. It came out in evidence that he acted as

commander-in-chief of the rebel forces at the battle of Ross on the 5th

of June, and his letter to the commander-in-chief of the king’s troops,

signed ‘B. B. Harvey,’ summoning him to surrender the town to the

rebels, was produced in evidence on the trial, and acknowledged by Mr.

Harvey to be in his handwriting. The unhappy man produced many witnesses

in his defence, but none to disprove the main facts. He did not deny

having acted as commander of the rebel forces, but endeavoured to

extenuate his conduct by saying he had accepted the distinction to

prevent much greater evils, which must have occurred had it fallen into

other hands, and in the hope of surrendering that command one day or

other, with greater advantage to the country. He had no counsel, and,

after a trial which lasted eight hours, was found guilty of death; which

sentence, with that of Grogan, was put into execution on the morning of

the 28th. His head was cut off and placed on the Sessions-House and

his body thrown into the river. On the same evening was executed John

Colclough of Ballyteigue. He was a gentleman of great respectability,

and bore a very good private character. On this occasion the entreaties

of his widowed partner were attended to, mutilation was dispensed with,

Mrs. Colclough received the body of her husband, and in the poet’s

words=

````She laid him in his father’s grave,=

and had the melancholy satisfaction of giving sepulture to the body of a

beloved husband.

[[[THE ATTACK ON CAPTAIN CHAMNEY’S HOUSE, BALLYRAHEENE]]]

|The tide of rebellion was ebbing fast, dissension prevailed in their

councils, the leaders disagreed, and the Wexford men separated from

those of Wicklow, the latter, under Garret Byrne of Ballymanus, moving

off to the hill of Ballyraheene, nearly midway between Tinehaly and

Carnew. Here another error in judgment occasioned an unnecessary loss of

life. The yeomanry had pursued the rebels closely, but the latter gained

the high grounds and formed in a very strong position. The numbers were

enormously disproportionate, and every prudential consideration should

have discouraged an attack. Some of the yeoman officers were of opinion

that their troops ought to halt, and that they should content themselves

with watching at a safe distance the movements of the enemy. Contrary

opinions prevailing, an attack was made up the hill, when the rebels,

who had wished to avoid a battle, rushing down, put the royalists

to flight, killing ten of the infantry, but the cavalry escaped. Two

officers fell in the beginning of this action, Captain Chamney of the

Coolattin company, and Captain Nickson of the Coolkenna company, both

greatly lamented. George Cruikshank’s picture vividly represents the

situation of Captain Chamney’s house at the critical point of the

siege, which saved a portion of this unfortunate loyalist force. ‘The

slaughter,’ records Gordon, ‘would have been far greater if sixty of

the infantry, under Captain Morton and Lieutenant Chamney, had not taken

refuge in Captain Chamney’s house at the foot of the hill, where they

sustained during fourteen hours the attacks of the rebels, who attempted

repeatedly to fire the house. Some--particularly a very large man from

Gorey named John Redmond, nicknamed “Shaun Plunder”--advanced under a

covering of feather-beds to the hall door, with the design of burning

it, and thus opening a passage into the house; but they were killed

in the attempt, the bullets penetrating even this thick tegument. As a

discharge of musketry was maintained from the windows on the assailants,

whose associates injudiciously set fire to the neighbouring house of

Henry Morton (the owner being among the defenders of Captain Chamney’s

house), the illumination enabled the garrison to aim at their enemies in

the night, and the loss of the rebels was very considerable, amounting

according to some accounts to a hundred and thirty men, by others, to

two hundred.’ This ill-judged affair occurred on the 2nd of July.

[Illustration: 0584]

It has been described how Wexford was by the success of the king’s

forces ultimately liberated from the masses of its insurgent population.

We have stated that the scene of their predatory warfare was changed

from their native county to Kildare, and that they were reinforced by

the insurgents commanded by Michael Reynolds. The junction produced

little advantage, except in increasing the numbers of a tumultuary

rabble, in whom there was neither unity of purpose nor any fixed plan

of future operations. Every leader had some object of his own, none a

particle of military talent, and their strategic conceptions were as

erroneous as the execution was feeble and contemptible.

Anthony Perry, another rebel general, despairing of doing any mischief

in Wexford, now so well defended, where the insurgent forces were

too dispirited to longer struggle in a body against the royalists and

yeomanry, when joined by a strong body under the command of Michael

Aylmer, intended to penetrate into the north of Ireland, where he

expected to meet with a cordial co-operation. But Aylmer prevailed on

Perry to abandon his intention, and declared that it was more advisable

to attack Clonard, a town on the confines of Kildare and Meath, and

situated on the river Boyne, as there was but a small force to defend

it; and afterwards march by Kilbeggan to the Shannon, and surprise

Athlone, where, from its central position, great advantages might be

expected to arise. This plan was accordingly adopted; and their united

forces, amounting to four thousand men, on the 11th of July marched to

the attack of Clonard.

[[[THE REBELS STORMING ‘THE TURRET’ AT LIEUTENANT TYRRELL’S, CLONARD]]]

[Illustration: 0591]

|Many very gallant exploits were performed during this short and

sanguinary period by loyalist irregulars; but probably the defence of

Clonard may be placed foremost among numerous occurrences, in which the

boundless gallantry of a determined handful of daring spirits repulsed

the overwhelming masses to which they were opposed, and proved that no

physical superiority can quench the courage of men devoted to home and

altar, and determined ‘to do or die.’ The little garrison of Clonard

consisted of a weak corps of yeoman infantry, and its commander was a

self-taught soldier. But military talent is intuitive, and Lieutenant

Tyrrell proved that the ruder the storm, the more extensively the

resources of a brave man will be developed.

On being apprised that the rebel column was in march, Tyrrell made

the best dispositions for defence which his small force permitted.

He occupied a turret, which domineered the road, with half a dozen

musketeers, and with the remaining twenty retired into the old

mansion-house. Having selected his best marksmen, they were placed at

such of the windows as offered the best positions for firing with effect

upon the assailants, while the remainder of the corps were secured

behind the walls, and employed in loading spare muskets to replace the

firearms when discharged.

The rebel cavalry, amounting in rough numbers to three hundred, formed

an advance guard, and were commanded by a man named Farrel. Unconscious

that the garden turret was occupied, they came forward in a trot, and

the first intimation that they were already under fire was conveyed by

a shot from the youngest Tyrrell, a boy only fifteen years old, which

mortally wounded the rebel captain. A volley from the other loyalists

emptied several rebel saddles; a panic ensued, and the horsemen galloped

out of musket range, leaving Several of their companions dead upon

the road. With more caution and better success the rebel footmen came

forward under shelter of a hedge, and, lining an opposite fence, they

opened a sharp fire on the turret, while the column itself pushed

forward to surround the’ house, and unite itself with another division

which had advanced to join them by a cross-road. To cut off all

communication and prevent the garrison from receiving reinforcements,

the bridge was occupied by a rebel guard, but as it lay directly under

the fire of the house, half a score of the occupants were rapidly shot

down, the bridge cleared of its defenders, the western road laid open,

and the garrison communication maintained.

In both their first attempts the insurgents were heavily repulsed, but

defeat seemed only to exasperate them, and they again came forward to

the attack. Penetrating by the rear, an immense number filled the garden

and seized the lower portion of the turret. As the ladder had been drawn

up by the defenders of the upper story, the rebels, by climbing on each

other’s shoulders, attempted to force through the ceiling; still the

fatal fire of the loyalists was kept up; at every shot a rebel fell, and

on the ground floor lay seven-and-twenty bodies. At last, despairing of

success, they procured a quantity of straw and fired the building. To

force a passage through the rebels was almost a desperate attempt, but

to perish in the flames, which had now seized the building, was the

sad alternative. Two yeomen were killed in their attempt at escape, but

fortunately the other four, by jumping from a window into a hay-yard

under cover of the garden wall, succeeded in reaching the main body,

who were posted in the dwelling-house. For six long hours this unequal

contest had been maintained, and still no impression had been made upon

the gallant royalists. To confuse the garrison, the assailants set fire

to the toll-house and adjacent cabins, but the conflagration served no

better purpose than to consume their own slain, whose bodies they flung

into the burning houses. Happily succour was at hand, and at five in the

evening a reinforcement was descried by the wearied royalists, advancing

rapidly to meet them.

[[[THE REBELS STORMING ‘THE TURRET’ AT LIEUTENANT TYRRELL’S, CLONARD]]]

|One of the yeomen, who had been excluded by the sudden shutting of the

gates in the morning, finding he could be of no use in defending the

house, repaired to Kinnegad and represented the alarming situation of

his friends at Clonard; upon which, Lieutenant Houghton, with fourteen

of the Kinnegad infantry, and a sergeant, with eleven Northumberland

Fencibles (this being all the force that could be spared), immediately

marched to their succour. The pass by the bridge having been kept open

in the manner before related, Lieutenant Tyrrell now sallied from the

house, and soon effected a junction with this reinforcement. A

few volleys completely cleared the roads, and having placed the

Northumberland Fencibles and Kinnegad infantry in such situations as

most effectually to gall the enemy in their retreat from the garden, the

lieutenant himself undertook the hazardous enterprise of dislodging them

from thence.

‘At this time it is supposed there were four hundred rebels in the

garden, a large body being posted on a mount planted with old fir-trees,

which afforded considerable protection, while many lay concealed behind

a privet hedge, from where they could see distinctly every person who

entered the garden, though unperceived themselves. The brave Tyrrell,

at the head of a few chosen men, now rushed into the garden, and was

received by a general discharge from both bodies of the enemy; but he

instantly attacked the party behind the hedge, which, being defeated,

retired to the mount. Here a warm action ensued, the enemy appearing

determined to maintain their advantageous situation; but the yeomen,

though fatigued with the heat and burden of the day, and six of them

badly wounded, persevered with the most undaunted courage, and directed

such a steady and well-directed fire against the mount, that the

enemy were at length dispersed, and in their flight the Northumberland

Fencibles and Kinnegad infantry made great havoc among them.’--Taylor’s

_History_.

The rebel loss, when it is remembered that it was inflicted by a

garrison not numbering thirty men, may appear to be overstated. In

killed and wounded it was said to reach two hundred. Nor is there any

reason to question the accuracy of the return. A close and well-directed

fire was maintained for half the day, and some of the yeomanry were

supposed to have discharged one hundred rounds a man.

After this severe repulse the remaining body of insurgents retreated

to Carbery and plundered the mansion of Lord Harburton, and next

day entered Meath by Johnstown. On the 12th of July they were again

overtaken, brought to action, and defeated by a detachment under Colonel

Gough, hunted afterwards by General Myers, and driven upon Slane, and

encountered ar In all these affairs disorganised that, as a body, they

ceased to have existence.

[[[FATE OF FATHER JOHN MURPHY OF BOULAVOGUE AFTER VINEGAR HILL]]]

|The horde of insurgents with Father John Murphy of Boulavogue escaped

from the Vinegar Hill _déroute_, retreated through the Scullagh gap, and

selected Kilkenny as their field of future operations. Their progress

was marked by the customary atrocities of plundering and murder, and

the line of march towards Castlecomer might have been readily traced by

property destroyed and houses laid in ashes.

After the continuation of their old tactics and acts of coldblooded

treachery--such as the affair at Gore’s bridge, when promises of

protection were given to the discomfited loyalist soldiers surrounded

in an untenable position, to induce them to lay down their arms, and

scandalously violated, and in a few hours after their surrender, six

privates of the Wexford, two of the 4th Dragoons, and nine Protestant

prisoners were savagely butchered at Kellymount by orders of Devereux,

a sanguinary ruffian, principally concerned in the massacre at

Scullabogue--the insurgents were discovered at daybreak halted

on Kilcomney Hill. The Downshire battalion guns--under Major

Mathews--opened fire, and the rebels, to avoid the cannonade and gain

time to make dispositions to receive the royalists, fell back a mile.

While forming, Sir Charles Asgill’s artillery were heard firing at a

rebel party in their rear, and a few rounds from the Downshire guns

completed their discomfiture. They broke, fled, and were cut down,

scarcely resisting, the pursuit being continued for two hours with fatal

effect.

This was the crushing blow given to the southern insurrection. All

was lost, for baggage, arms, provisions, and ammunition were totally

abandoned. A few soldiers and Protestants who had fallen into their

hands and escaped assassination were mercifully they suffered a

continued loss, and at last had become so totally delivered and the

insurgents disbanded, and while the Wexford party crossed into their

native country through the Scullagh gap, the wanderers from Wicklow

and Kildare went off dispersedly, some of the least guilty returning to

their own homes, while others, despairing of forgiveness, commenced an

outlaw’s life, and sank the rebel in the robber.

‘Father John Murphy, a priest who acted as aide-de-camp to the great

sacerdotal hero, John Murphy of Boulavogue, and who had accompanied him

from Vinegar Hill, fell in this action. He had a dove and a crucifix

on his buttons, and letters directed to him were found in his pocket,

recommending proper places for encamping. Father John Murphy, the

commander-in-chief, who fled from the field of battle, was taken at an

ale-house by three yeomen, one of the name of M’Cabe, and led a prisoner

to Tullow, the headquarters of Sir James Duff. He was introduced into a

room where the general, his aides-de-camp, Colonels Foster and Eden,

the Earl of Roden, Captain M’Clintock, and about twenty officers were

sitting. Major Hall, having asked him some questions which gave offence,

in a violent rage the priest made a blow of his fist at the Major, which

would have knocked him down, but that he warded it off with his arm, on

which, however, he received a severe contusion. On searching Murphy,

in his pockets his vestments were found, with some letters from Mrs.

Richards and other ladies, prisoners at Wexford, imploring him to save

the lives of their husbands and relations. He was hanged on the same

day; his body was burned and his head fixed on the market-house.’

Musgrave’s _Memoirs_, which furnish the foregoing account, further

enlighten us upon Murphy’s personal traits:--‘He was about forty-five

years old, light complexioned, bald-pated, and about five feet

nine inches high, well made, uniting strength with agility. He was

exceedingly irascible, and when in a passion had somewhat the aspect of

a tiger. His pix, his oil stock, and a small crucifix were found in his

pocket.’

[[[LANDING OF THE FRENCH INVADERS IN KILLALLA BAY]]]

|In the west of Ireland the system of terrorism was also incessantly

persevered in; general murders were announced, and the people continued

not to sleep in their own houses to avoid surprise. The strangest means

by which these imaginary massacres were to be effected were invented,

promulgated, and believed, and the peasantry in many places actually

remained night after night in the open fields as the only means of

escaping the devilish devices of destroyers.

Musgrave has set down in his _Memoirs_: ‘A few days before the French

landed, a report was industriously circulated that the Protestants had

entered into a conspiracy to massacre the Roman Catholics, and that they

would not spare man, woman, or child. It was said that for this purpose

a large quantity of combustible stuff had been introduced by the

Orangemen, who made a kind of black candles of it; that they were of

such a quality that they could not be extinguished when once lighted,

and that in whatever house they should be burnt they would produce the

destruction of every person in it.’

Such was the state of Mayo and Connaught generally when, on the 22nd of

August 1798, three French frigates, with English colours flying, entered

Killalla Bay. No suspicion was occasioned by their appearance, and under

the belief that they were British cruisers, several gentlemen from the

town visited the strangers, and when declared prisoners first discovered

their mistake.

Killalla was at that time a bishop’s see (subsequently suppressed on the

passing of the Reform Bill). On the day when the French appeared in the

bay the lord-bishop was holding his annual visitation, and the clergy of

the diocese were collected in the castle, as the see-house was popularly

called. The strange vessels, however, excited no alarm; dinner passed

quietly, the guests were preparing to depart, when that intention was

accelerated by the arrival of a breathless messenger to inform the

company and their host that the French had actually landed, and an

advanced guard of three hundred men were marching on the town.

Killalla was feebly garrisoned by a party of the Prince of Wales’s

Fencibles and a few yeomanry, the whole not exceeding fifty or sixty

men, but still they offered a bold resistance, until, with the loss of

a few killed and wounded, they were finally driven into the castle and

obliged to surrender. The commander of this extraordinary expedition,

Humbert, after summoning the bishop to his presence, and having

announced that he came from the great nation to give the Irish liberty

and sever the yoke of England, which had so long oppressed them,

proceeded to put into requisition his lordship’s horses, sheep, and

cows, intimating at the same time that the Irish Directory, to be

established immediately in Connaught, would pay the full value of the

same.

The French officers gave the following account of the

expedition:--‘About eighteen days before, 1500 men, some of whom had

served under Bonaparte in Italy, the rest had been of the army of the

Rhine, embarked on board three frigates at Rochelle, and on a very dark

night eluded (beyond their expectation) the vigilance of the English

fleet, which was close behind them. Two of them had forty-four guns,

eighteen-pounders, the other thirty-eight guns, twelve-pounders. They

said also they brought nine pieces of cannon and arms for 100,000 men,

but this was French gasconnade, as they had arms only for 5500 men

and but two four-pounders. The meagre persons and the wan and sallow

countenances of these troops, whose numbers did not exceed 1060 rank and

file and 70 officers, strongly indicated the severe hardships which they

must have undergone.

‘They hoisted a green flag in front of the castle, with the Irish words,

“Erin go braugh” inscribed on it, which signifies “Ireland for ever,”

and they invited the people to join them, having assured them that they

would enjoy freedom and happiness by doing so.

‘The first day they passed in landing arms and ammunition; the second

in clothing and arming the natives, of whom great multitudes flocked to

their standard, and granting commissions to Irish officers.’

Compared with the other armaments destined for the invasion of Ireland,

Humbert’s was by far the smallest. The grand army, termed ‘the reserve,’

which was commanded by General Kilmaine, amounted in round numbers

to 10,000; and a second, lying in the harbour of Brest, under General

Hardy, had 3000 men on board. Neither, however, attempted to put to sea,

and although Kilmaine never appeared in person, his proclamations were

abundantly distributed.

Humbert’s manifesto was cleverly conceived and ingeniously put

together:--

LIBERTY! EQUALITY! FRATERNITY! UNION!

Irishmen--You have not forgot Bantry Bay; you know what efforts France

has made to assist you. Her affections for you, her desire for avenging

your wrongs and insuring your independence can never be impaired.

After several unsuccessful attempts, behold Frenchmen arrived amongst

you.

They come to support your courage, to share your dangers, to join their

arms, and to mix their blood with yours in the sacred cause of liberty.

Brave Irishmen, our cause is common; like you, we abhor the avaricious

and bloodthirsty policy of an oppressive government; like you, we hold

as indefeasible the right of all nations to liberty; like you, we are

persuaded that the peace of the world shall ever be troubled, as long

as the British ministry is suffered to make, with impunity, a traffic of

the industry, labour, and blood of the people.

But exclusive of the same interests which unite us, we have powerful

motives to love and defend you.

Have we not been the pretext of the cruelty exercised against you by

the cabinet of St. James’s? The heartfelt interest you have shown in

the great events of our revolution has it not been imputed to you as a

crime? Are not tortures and death continually hanging over such of you

as are barely suspected of being our friends? Let us unite then and

march to glory.

We swear the most inviolable respect for your properties, your laws, and

all your religious opinions. Be free; be masters in your own country. We

look for no other conquest than that of your liberty--no other success

than yours.

The moment of breaking your chains is arrived; our triumphant troops are

now flying to the extremities of the earth to tear up the roots of the

wealth and tyranny of our enemies. That frightful Colossus is mouldering

away in every part. Can there be any Irishman base enough to separate

himself at such a happy juncture from the grand interests of his

country? If such there be, brave friends, let him be chased from the

country he betrays, and let his property become the reward of those

generous men who know how to fight and die.

Irishmen, recollect the late defeats which your enemies have experienced

from the French; recollect the plains of Honscoote, Toulon, Quiberon,

and Ostend; recollect America, free from the moment she wished to be so.

The contest between you and your oppressors cannot be long.

Union! liberty! the Irish republic!--such is our shout; let us march,

our hearts are devoted to you; our glory is in your happiness. Health

and Fraternity, Humbert, Gen.

Humbert’s was a bold but wild experiment, but still it evinced the

daring character of the adventurer. He had encountered difficulties that

would have disheartened a soldier less enthusiastic.

To land with 1200 men in a country in full military occupation, as

Ireland then was, without money, necessaries, or any resources but what

chance and talent gave, proved indeed that the French general was no

common soldier.

The sketch given by Bishop Stock (his involuntary and captive host)

of the invading army and their daring leader is not only graphic,

but faithfully descriptive of the bold adventurer and his hardy

followers:--‘Intelligence, activity, temperance, patience, to a

surprising degree, appeared to be combined in the soldiery that came

over with Humbert, together with the exactest obedience to discipline.

Yet, if you except the grenadiers, they had nothing to catch the eye.

Their stature for the most part was low, their complexions pale and

sallow, their clothes much the worse for wear; to a superficial observer

they would have appeared incapable of enduring almost any hardship.

These were the men, however, of whom it was presently observed that they

could be well content to live on bread or potatoes, to drink water, to

make the stones of the street their bed, and to sleep in their clothes,

with no covering but the canopy of heaven. One half of their number had

served in Italy under Bonaparte; the rest were of the army of the Rhine,

where they had suffered distresses that well accounted for thin

persons and wan looks. Several of them declared, with all the marks of

sincerity, that at the siege of Metz, during the preceding winter, they

had for a long time slept on the ground in holes made four feet deep

under the snow; and an officer, pointing to his leather small-clothes,

assured the bishop that he had not taken them off for a twelve-month.

Humbert, the leader of this singular body of men, was himself as

extraordinary a personage as any in his army; of a good height and

shape, in the full vigour of life, prompt to decide, quick in execution,

apparently master of his art, you could not refuse him the praise of a

good officer, while his physiognomy forbade you to like him as a man.

His eye, which was small and sleepy (the effect, probably, of much

watching), cast a side-long glance of insidiousness, and even of

cruelty--it was the eye of a cat preparing to spring upon her prey. His

education and manners were indicative of a person sprung from the lowest

orders of society, though he knew how (as most of his countrymen can do)

to assume, where it was convenient, the deportment of a gentleman. For

learning, he had scarcely enough to enable him to write his own name.

His passions were furious, and all his behaviour seemed marked with the

characters of roughness and violence. A narrower observation of him,

however, served to discover that much of this roughness was the result

of art, being assumed with the view of extorting, by terror, a ready

compliance with his demands. This latter trait in Humbert’s character

was personally experienced by the bishop. An offer of the presidency of

the Connaught Directory was declined by his lordship, on the plea of his

sworn allegiance to the king--a pledge, he said, never to be violated;

and a command that he should issue orders to place every horse and

vehicle in the country at Humbert’s disposal for mounting his cavalry,

and the transport of his guns, stores, and baggage, was evaded by an

assurance that his lordship had been but lately a resident, and, from

want of local knowledge or authority, had not the means of compliance

with the French general’s request.

‘Next morning Humbert, finding that no cars or horses had been procured,

became furious, uttered a torrent of vulgar abuse, presented a pistol

at the bishop’s eldest son, and declared he would punish his father’s

disobedience by sending him to France, and accordingly he marched off

the bishop towards the shore under a sergeant’s guard, but when they

had advanced a short distance a mounted orderly recalled the party,

and Humbert apologised to the bishop, and excused, under the plea

of military necessity, a very gross departure from the laws of _la

politesse_.

‘The 24th was occupied by a French _reconnaissance_ on Ballina, which

was repelled by a party of carbineers and some yeomanry. In the evening

the royalists advanced to Killalla in return, had a smart skirmish with

the enemy, and, after losing a few men, were hastily driven back.’

On Sunday, the 26th, Humbert took the offensive, leaving six officers

and two hundred men in Killalla to garrison the town, secure his spare

ammunition, and drill such recruits as should join the standard of

the republic. The French numbered about 900 bayonets, with treble that

number of peasant partisans. They entered Ballina unopposed, and Humbert

expressed considerable disappointment when no respectable persons

welcomed his _entree_, and the body of an active agent suspended to a

tree, executed by the troops before they retreated for having a French

commission in his pocket, while it afforded an exhibition for Gallic

civism, gave still but a sorry omen of success.

Before he had commenced his operations the French general felt

difficulties which, in some degree, he was unprepared for. He came

totally unprovided with money, and in the co-operation he was led from

the reports of Irish agents to build upon as certain he was miserably

disappointed. The first of these difficulties he endeavoured to overcome

by the issue of assignats on the Irish Directory that was to be.

The first serious action Humbert had on encountering the royalist forces

was signalised by a series of military mistakes, of which the French

commander took the fullest advantage, and the memory of the loyalist

discomfiture at Castlebar remains a discreditable page in the annals of

our generalship.

It is almost impossible to conceive anything more disgraceful and

unaccountable than the defeat of the royalist army at Castlebar.

That the strength of the king’s army fully warranted its commander in

covering the town and taking an open position cannot be denied,

but still, as there was some uncertainty touching the number of the

assailants, in the event of disaster measures should have been arranged

for rallying the troops within the town, which a very little trouble

would have made thoroughly defensible against a force so inferior as

Humbert’s. That the general spirit of the troops was excellent many

individual cases proved, and, with a superior cavalry and artillery, the

latter particularly well served, the contest should not have lasted ten

minutes.

[[[HEROIC CONDUCT OF THE HIGHLAND SENTINEL]]]

|The party who defended the bridge of Castlebar, consisting of some

gallant officers, some of the Longford, a few of the Kilkenny and Fraser

Fencibles, suffered most severely, as they were exposed to a cross-fire

both from the roads leading to it and from the houses on either side.

The men often fell back, but were again rallied by their officers. At

length most of the Royal Irish Artillery, who worked the gun, having

been killed or wounded, it became useless, and the enemy were able to

push forward a body of cavalry, whose charge was repulsed by this small

party, and two of the foremost hussars killed within the ranks. By this

charge, however, the numbers of the royalists were much reduced, and,

having been deprived of the assistance of one captain and one subaltern,

who were desperately wounded, they were at last obliged to retreat after

having lost half their number.

‘The French appeared men qualified not only to obtain but also to

improve a victory, and with singular daring a party of hussars, not

exceeding ten in number, hung on the rear of the retreating royalists

and overtook and captured a gun, which they were about to turn on the

runaways, when a superior number of Lord Roden’s Foxhunters charged

back, killed five, and drove off the rest. The slain were buried where

they fell, and, in memory of the event, the place is still called French

Hill.

‘The artillery taken in this disgraceful defeat consisted of fourteen

pieces, of which four were curricle guns. The courageous behaviour of

the Fraser Fencibles has been mentioned with admiration as a conspicuous

example of gallantry against desperate odds.’

[Illustration: 0605]

The spirited and characteristic water-colour drawing executed by George

Cruikshank to illustrate the landing of the Gallic legions in Mayo

deals with a noteworthy instance of individual and solitary devotion as

related by Musgrave:--

‘The French approached the new gaol to break it open. It was guarded by

a Highland Fraser sentinel, whom his friends had desired to retreat with

them; he heroically refused to quit his post, which was elevated, with

some steps leading to it. He charged and fired five times successively,

and killed a Frenchman at every shot, but before he could charge the

sixth time they rushed on him, beat out his brains, and threw him down

the steps, with the sentry-box on his body.5

During the period that Humbert occupied Castlebar--that is, from the

27th of August until the morning of the 4th of September--the French

behaved with the greatest moderation, protecting the Protestants from

insult, and repressing every attempt at cruelty on the part of their

ignorant and useless allies. Invariably, the invaders regarded the Irish

mob who accompanied them as a pack of senseless savages, and no pains

were taken to disguise these feelings of contempt. ‘The French,’ records

Musgrave, ‘ate the best of meat and bread, drank wine, beer, and coffee,

and slept on good beds. They compelled the rebels to eat potatoes, drink

whisky, and sleep on straw. They beat and abused them like dogs, in the

name of liberty, equality, and fraternity. A volume would not contain

an account of the brutal actions of the rebels; and the women, who were

worse than the men, carried off hides, tallow, beef, cloth, and various

The actual strength of the rebel army was, on the lowest calculation,