Bits of Blarney
CHAPTER I.
THE WAKE.
The year 1822 was remarkable for being what in Ireland was called "AWhiteboy Year." Rents were only paid by compulsion. Tithes were not paidat all. Wages were low. The price of food was high. The middleman systemhad been on the increase, year after year, until the land and peoplewere crushed under it. The priests from the altar, and O'Connell, fromthe tribune and through the press, earnestly argued the masses _not_ torebel, no matter how great the aggravation, how intense the despair, andthe advice had great weight in most instances. Many causes combined torender the peasantry ripe for revolt.--As, on one side, there were notwanting men able and willing to act as leaders in any popular movement;so, on the other, there was no lack of Government spies to fan theflame, to cajole the peasantry into breaches of the law, and to betraythose whom they thus had duped.
The discontented and disaffected were principally concentrated in mynative county of Limerick. From time to time, the military force in thatcounty had been augmented, until, at the particular period in question(1822), there were several regiments of infantry, and at least one ofcavalry, on harassing duty. What between still-hunting (for themanufacture of mountain-dew was then in full operation) and man-hunting,the military had full occupation day and night. Various pretexts wereused, also, to weary the military, by putting them upon a false scent,every now and then, so that the service was particularly severe andfatiguing. Added to the military array was the Constabulary force,introduced by the late Sir Robert (then Mr.) Peel, while Secretary forIreland, the members of which, after his name, have obtained the_sobriquet_ of "Peelers." An active and efficient body of men thesePeelers were, and are, although the force, from its originalestablishment, has been unpopular in Ireland--probably owing to its veryactivity and efficiency. Be this as it may, it is undeniable that whilethe bulk of the Irish people, of all classes, cordially have fraternizedwith the soldiery, they have ever manifested a strong dislike to thepolice. This unfriendly feeling, too, has sometimes been fostered bymany who, from their station, might be expected to entertain gratitude,and exercise courtesy, towards these protectors of their lives andproperty.
Whiteboyism continued to increase, notwithstanding the strong militaryand police force poured into the district. Detachments of infantry werequartered in almost every hamlet--the cavalry, called "here, there, andeverywhere," upon true and false alarms, were dreadfully overworked. Atlast, as a necessary matter of protection, two or three Peelers werequartered in almost every respectable country house in certain disturbedbaronies. The whole county was in a dreadful state of alarm, excitement,and activity. The newspapers, of course, were filled with reports andrumors of all kinds, and the Whiteboy doings in the South of Ireland hadeven the honor of being spoken of, in no very complimentary terms, inboth Houses of Parliament.
These Whiteboy movements, although not confined to one part of thecounty Limerick, were remarked as chiefly occurring on that side whichis bordered by the county Cork. In a little time, they might be said toradiate from a particular district, spreading into what, from itsextent, has been called "The Yorkshire of Ireland." As they increased,more troops were called in, to subdue insurrection and enforce order.All this was in vain. A regular guerilla warfare began to prevail,chiefly for the purpose of obtaining the arms of the military andpolice.
It became no uncommon event for a sentry, at a country station, to bequietly picked out by the steady hand and sure aim of a Whiteboy--theshot which gave his death being at once the sole announcement and fatalevidence of the tragic deed. The service thus became so desperate thatthere arose an evident reluctance, on the part of the military, tocontinue on such alarming and perilous duty. Desertions became frequent.On the other hand, the police doggedly did their duty. Of a much highergrade than the ordinary rank and file of the army--for no man wasallowed to enter or remain in the force without an excellent characterand a certain degree of education--they had a high estimate of theirduty, and a stubborn determination to perform it. They knew, also, thatthe peasantry hated them, and that even the thankless gentry, whom theyprotected, did not bear any affectionate regard for them.
The Rifle Brigade was on duty, in the disturbed district, at the timewhich I have mentioned. The officer in command was Major Eeles, anEnglish port-drinking officer of the old school, who had fixed his ownquarters at The Grove (near Ballingarry,) formerly the seat of ColonelOdell, the member for the county, and remarkable as being the father ofabout twenty sons, by one wife. The most fatiguing and unpleasant officewhich the soldiers had to perform was that of night-patrolling. The lawsof that time were harsh--indeed, like all other Coercion Acts, they hadbeen expressly framed to put down the disturbances--and provided thatthe mere fact of a man's being found out of his house, between sunriseand sunset, should be punishable with seven years' transportation. Thissevere enactment put a great check, of course, upon nocturnal predatorygatherings, but many an innocent man suffered from the harshness of thelaw. A strong feeling of hostility arose against the Rifle corps, fortheir activity in apprehending the suspected. This was greatly augmentedby what, under any circumstances, might be considered an "untowardevent." One of the peasantry had been met on the high road after dark,and challenged by the patrol. Not giving a satisfactory answer, hisinstant apprehension was ordered by the officer in command. Attemptingto escape, he was in the act of jumping across a deep drain whichdivided the high-road from the bog, when a sergeant drew a pistol fromhis belt and shot him on the spot.
The unfortunate man was _not_ a Whiteboy. On the contrary, he hadsteadily resisted the solicitations of many neighbours who were. He hadseen better days, and had received rather a good education. Knowing theperil of joining the illegal combinations, and daring the danger ofbeing considered lukewarm in what was called "the cause of his country,"he had kept himself aloof from proceedings, which he did not approve of,but scorned to betray. His family had been subjected, for months past,to the severe privations which poverty causes everywhere, butparticularly in Ireland. His wife had been extremely ill, and on hersudden change for the worse, his affection had naturally got the worseof his personal fear, and he had ventured out, after dusk, to solicitthe aid of the nearest dispensary doctor, when, challenged by themilitary, he sought safety in flight, and had met with his untimely fateas I have described.
Those who know anything of the peculiar customs of the South of Ireland,must be aware that the peasantry have especial delight in doing honor tothe dead. To celebrate a "wake" is, with them, a social duty. Theyusually take that mode of testifying, in a merry mood, their grief forthe departed. The unfortunate victim of military impetuosity was carriedto the nearest public-house on the way-side, and when it was related howhe had lost his life, "curses not loud, but deep," most unequivocallyindicated the popular feeling that he was a murdered man. Nor was thisfeeling mitigated by the "justifiable homicide" verdict of the Coroner'sjury.
Entertaining such opinions, it was not likely that his relatives andfriends would solicit as a favor, at the hands of his slayers, "leave tokeep the wake." They did not ask it. Perhaps they had little fear that,in the present instance, their ancient and time-honoured custom would beinterfered with. Accordingly, they _took_ leave, and a numerousconcourse of the people assembled, after dusk, on the day of theinquest, in the cabin of the deceased.
To one who loved the picturesque, the scene would have been interesting,for it contained all variety of countenance, costume, and manner. But itpossessed an intenser and far deeper interest for him who had studiedthe human heart, its passionate throes, its indignant feelings, its wildenergies, its strong convulsions, its lacerated affections. There laythe corpse, a crucifix at its head and twelve mould candles on a tableat its feet. By the bedside knelt the widow--actually, by an unnaturalexcitement, rendered temporarily convalescent by the sharp fact that shehad lost the husband of her heart. By the corpse, on the opposite side,sat their only child, a lad of few years, apparently unconscious of theextent of the calamity which thus early had orphane
d him. A professionalKeener (like the "hired wailing women" of Scripture) was ranged oneither side of the deceased, awaiting a full audience for the similatedgrief, and now and then muttering fragments of their intended Lament.Around the humble apartment--for the peasant's cabin consisted of only asingle room--were ranges of stools, three deep, and here and there weredeal tables, on which were placed tobacco-pipes, and "the materials" forthe refreshment and enjoyment which, by a strange contrast with theawful occasion which called them together, were consideredindispensable. Such a thing as a _dry_ Wake would indeed have been ananomaly, there and then.
The friends of the dead man dropped in stealthily, and at intervals--forthere was some uncertainty whether the military would permit such anassemblage. Before long the room was crowded, all fear of beinginterfered with gradually vanished, and the party, albeit assembled on amelancholy occasion, soon glided into conversation, smoking, and drink.
There was no merriment, however, for the circumstances under which theymet forbade it--so early in the night. Their conversation was in ahushed tone. The comparative stillness every now and then becamepositive when they noticed the voiceless sorrow of the poor widow, as,pale and emaciated by suffering of mind and body, she knelt by the dead,holding his clay-cold hand, and, her eyes fixed upon his comely face,now pallid with the hue of mortality, and placid in repose as that of asleeping infant. At intervals, there rose the melancholy and eloquentwail of the Keeners' wild poetry, in the native language of theauditors, deeply impassioned, and full of the breathing indignationwhich stirs men's minds to such a pitch of excitement that they comeforth from the listening fitted for almost any deed of daring.
The Keen told how the dead man had won the hearts of all who knewhim--how he had excelled his companions in the sports of youth and theathletic exercises of manhood--how, at pattern, fair, or dance, hestill maintained his superiority--how his was the open heart and liberalhand--how he had won his first love, the pride of their native village,and married her--how, when a shadow fell upon their fortunes, that lovedone lightened, by sharing, the burthen, the struggle, and thegrief--how, amid the desolation, her gentle smile ever made a softsunshine in their home--how, a victim without a crime, he had fallen inthe noon of life--how there remained his young boy to remember, and, itmight be, one day to avenge his murder--how every man who was presentwould protect and sustain the widow and the orphan of him whom they hadloved so well--and how, come it soon or late, a day would arrive whenexpiation must be made for the foul deed which had sent an innocent manto an untimely grave.
As the chief Keener chanted this Lament, in the expressive andfigurative language of their native Ireland, the hearts of her auditorythrobbed with deep and varying emotions--sorrow swelled into the deepersense of injury--wild indignation flushed the cheek of manhood--and handwas clasped in hand with a fierce pressure, in well-understood pledge ofsorrow for the dead, hatred for his slayers, and stern resolve ofvengeance.
About ten o'clock, the door slowly opened, and a tall man, apparelled inthe loose great-coat, or _coat-ca-more_, which forms the principal dressof the peasantry in that district, stood for some minutes on thethreshold, an interested but unobserved spectator. When he wasperceived, many rose to offer him a seat, which he declined, and soonall voices joined in a common cry of "Welcome, Captain! A thousand and ahundred thousand welcomes!"
The stranger returned the salutation cordially and briefly, and advancedgravely and slowly to where the dead man lay. He gazed upon the face forsome time, and then, laying his hand on that cold, pallid brow, said, ina tone of deep, concentrated feeling,--"Farewell, John Sheehan! Yourshas been a hard fate, but better than remains for us--to be hunted down,like wild beasts, and sent, after the mockery of a trial, from the homesof our fathers, to a far-off land, where even the slavery they doom usto is better than the troubled life we linger in, from which caprice orcruelty may hurry us in a moment. Farewell, then; but, by the brightHeaven above us, and the green fields around, I swear to know no restuntil bitter vengeance be taken for this most wanton and barbarousmurther."
His cheek flushed--his eyes flashed--his frame trembled with strongemotion as he sternly made this vow, and, when he ceased to speak, adeep "Amen" was murmured all around by the eager-eyed men, who hung uponhis slightest word with as trusting and entire a faith as ever did thefollowers of the Veiled Prophet upon the mystic revelations whichpromised them glory upon earth, and eternal happiness in heaven! Thewidow, roused from the abstraction of grief by this solemn and strikingincident, looked the thanks which she then had not voice to utter. Whenthe Stranger laid his hand on the orphan's head, and said: "He shall bemy care, and as I deal by him may God deal by me!" her long-repressedtears gushed forth, in a strong hysteric agony, which was not subdueduntil her child was placed within her earnest embrace, and kissed againand again--with the widowed mother's solacing thought, there yetremained one for whom to live.
Turning from the corpse, the Stranger took his seat among the humble butloving people in that lowly cabin. He was of large mould, with a bold,quick glance, and an air of intelligence superior to his apparentstation. It was singular that his appearance among them, while itardently awakened their respectful attention, had chilled and checkedthe company. After a pause, one of them ventured to hint that the firstallowance of liquor had been drank out, so that "there did not remain aneggshellful to drink the health of the Captain." There was a murmur ofapplause at the remark. Thus encouraged, another ventured to suggestthat a fresh supply be provided, at the general expense of thecompany--the gallantry of the men excepting the fair sex from any sharein the payment. The necessary amount was speedily collected, and asupply of whiskey (which had not condescended to acknowledge thereigning dynasty by any contribution to the excise duties) was procuredfrom the next _shebeen_--an unlicensed depot for the sale of "mountaindew,"--and placed upon the table.
The stranger, who had appeared quite unobservant of this proceeding, andwho--on the principle that "silence gives consent"--had even beensupposed rather to sanction than condemn it, suddenly interrupted thehilarious arrangements thus commenced. He started up and exclaimed--"Isit thus, and always thus, that I am to find you?--the slaves and victimsof your besotted senses. Is there anything to be done? I look for theman to do it, and find him sunk in drunkenness. Is a secret to bekept?--it is blabbed on the highway, to the ruin of a good cause, by theman who suffers drink to steal away his reason. When I lie down tosleep, I can dream of ruin only, for this subtle devil can tempt thetruest into a traitor. And now, with the hour of triumph at hand--therich hope of vengeance near fulfilment--there is not a man among you,bound to me as you are, heart and hand, soul and body, who would notsurrender the victory and the vengeance, if he were only allowed todrink on until he had reduced himself to a level with the senselessbrute. Give me that liquor."
His command was instantly obeyed, for he had rare ascendancy over theminds of those who acknowledged him as their leader. Dashing thevessel violently on the hard earthen floor, he broke it, and every dropof its contents--the "fire-water" of the American aborigines--wasspilled. "There," he cried, "who serves with me, must obey me. When adeed is to be done, I _will_ have obedience. When the deed isdone--drink, if you will, and when you will. But when service is to beperformed, you _shall_ be sober."
Not a syllable of dissent--not a murmur of discontent fell from the lipsof those who heard him. Not a gesture--not a look--indicated anger atwhat he had done.
"Mark me, my lads," he added. "I have arranged all beyond the chance ofdefeat. I have contrived to turn the main strength of the soldiers on awrong scent four miles on the other side of Charleville. I have laid myplans so that we cannot be disappointed, except through some fault ofour own. Let us on to Churchtown Barracks. The sergeant, by whose rashand ready hand our friend has died, remains there with a handful of hiscomrades. He was sent thither to escape us. Fools! as if, for those whohave a wrong to avenge, any spot can be too remote. Let us seize him,and give him the doom he gave the innocent. If t
hey resist, we can firethe barracks, and burn them in their nest. But they will never be so madas to offer resistance to such a force as ours, when we tell that wewant only that one man. If they do--their blood be upon their ownheads. Who joins me? Who will follow to the cry of 'On to Churchtown?'Now is the long-desired hour of revenge. Will any lag behind?"
Every man present repeated the cry--"On to Churchtown!" Some of thewomen also joined in it.
The Whiteboys and their leader left the cabin. An ancient crone, almosta reputed witch, and certainly known to be by far the oldest woman inthe district, hobbled after them as far as the door, and threw her shoeafter them--"for luck!"
Many a "God speed them" was breathed after that company of avengers byyoung and fair women. What Lord Bacon has called "the wild justice ofrevenge," and what America recognizes in the unseen but omnipotentincarnation of Judge Lynch, was necessarily the rule of action wheninjured Right took arms against tyrannic Might. Is it surprising thatsuch should be the case? If wrongdoers cannot always be rewarded, "eachaccording unto his works," within and by the law, why should not theirimpunity be broken down by the rational sense of justice which abides inthe minds of men?
Forth on their mission, therefore, did the Whiteboys speed. Hurryingacross the bog, they reached a farm which was almost isolated amid theblack waste from which it had been indifferently reclaimed. They drewmuskets, pistols, and pikes from the turf-rick in which they hadbeen concealed. Some of them brought old swords, and scythe-bladesattached to pike-handles (very formidable weapons in the hands ofstrong, angry men), from hiding-places in the bog itself. Stealthily,and across by paths unknown to and inaccessible to the military, thatwild gang, "with whom Revenge was virtue," pushed forward for the attackon Churchtown Barracks.