Bits of Blarney
CHAPTER V.
THE ATTACK ON ROSSMORE.
The news that Churchtown Barracks had been burned down, and the greaterportion of its military defenders killed, spread, like wildfire, throughall parts of the kingdom. Magisterial and military inquiries did no morethan ascertain the facts, but the persons remained undiscovered. Manywere arrested on suspicion, but the actual perpetrators escaped. Thepolicy used was to collect them from distant points, so that domiciliaryvisits from the patrols and the police in the neighbourhood where theoutrage had been committed found the peasantry within their ownhabitations. Thus suspicion was diverted and detection almostimpossible--except by treachery.
Viewed through the magnifying glass of public rumor, the affair atChurchtown appeared very great. In the dearth of more interestingintelligence, it was such an event as the wonder-workers of the Pressdelighted to snatch up as an especial theme for record and remark. TheLondon newspapers especially gloated over it. Day after day theircolumns were filled with "important particulars of the massacre atChurchtown, where the Irish rebels, in overpowering numbers, killed aregiment of infantry and two troops of cavalry, burned the barracks tothe ground, and barbarously threw the soldiers' wives and children intothe flames, in which they were all consumed by the devouring element."The affray was repeatedly mentioned in Parliament, where the changesrung upon it produced quite a _variorum_ edition of horrors.
The Executive offered large rewards for such information as might leadto the apprehension and conviction of the offenders. Though the requiredknowledge was scattered among hundreds of the peasantry--hunger-strickenmen, who often wanted even salt to their potatoes--not one was found toenrich himself by the "blood-money." Two descriptions of persons areheld in utter hatred and contempt in Ireland;--the man who, for lucre,turns from the ancient faith of his fathers, and he who becomes a "stag"(informer) to save his own neck, or gain the wages of treachery. Of thetwo, the informer is considered more harshly than the apostate, who mayrepent, and in the fulness of time return (even on his death-bed) to thefaith he has forsaken; but once that a man becomes a traitor to hiscolleagues, he does what cannot be undone by any contrition, and may bepunished, but cannot be atoned for by Death. It is a strange conditionof society, lamented by O'Connell, Sheil, and others, that, in anycases, while the Irish peasantry would pity, and even shield themurderer, (finding or making excuses for his crime,) they will not,they cannot pardon or excuse the informer.
Up to this time, Cussen had escaped suspicion of any participation inthe Whiteboy proceedings. Latterly, whether from distaste for the lowcompanionship into which he had fallen, or from a desire to eludesuspicion, he had made a point of frequenting society of a better order.On one of these occasions, while he was spending the evening at thehouse of Mr. F. Drew, Drewscourt, near Charleville,(in which, by theway, the writer of these Sketches was born,) the affair of Churchtownbecame a subject of conversation. Cussen took no part in the dialogue,but when all had retired, except Mr. Drew--a very shrewd but eccentricman--he spoke freely upon the subject, and having drank rather more thanwas good for him, got thrown off his guard so much as, in the excitementof the moment, to give a minute account of everything which had passedon the memorable night in question. With fearful energy he narrated allthe details, and at the close, when he told how the mutilated body ofthe sergeant had been cast into the flames,
"Even in his glance, the gladiator spoke."
The impression which his statement and his manner made upon his listenerwas (as Frank Drew told me afterwards) that Cussen must have been aprincipal in the frightful scenes which he so vividly described, ormust have had his information direct from an eye-witness andparticipant. As the communication had been unguardedly made, and wasprotected by the seal of that confidence which exists between guest andhost, the suspicion never found words until after it was too late toharm Cussen.
The Churchtown insurgents remained undetected. Emboldened by success,Cussen determined to make a bold attempt to obtain arms. His followersstrongly urged him to obtain fire-arms by attacks on the houses ofcountry gentlemen who were known to have provided themselves with largemeans of defence.
Castletown Conyers (about three miles from Drewscourt) was the countrymansion of a gentleman of large property, not far from the boundary ofLimerick county. Mr. Conyers, an old gentleman whose loyalty and fearswere on a par, was living, when the predial disturbances broke out, in aremote part of the county, and, having incontinently taken fright, hadapplied to the Government for protection, and had a corporal and six ofthe Rifle Brigade quartered in his house as a defensive force. Thusgarrisoned, the place might be considered a stronghold;--for, inaddition to the military force, Mr. Conyers had procured two or threecases of Birmingham fowling-pieces, a few kegs of powder, a large bag offlints (this was before the general use of percussion caps), and ahundred weight of sheet lead, to be cast into bullets.
This formidable supply of arms and ammunition had reached Castletownunder strong military escort from Limerick, and report spoke of it aseven more considerable than it really was. With these munitions of war,and the soldiers and the servants of the house, Castletown was one ofthe most formidable places the Whiteboys could have thought ofattacking. Yet, with that characteristic, but calculating boldness,which gave him eminence with his followers,
"For those who THINK must rule o'er those who TOIL,"
Cussen determined to invest this fortilage. The arms and ammunition werewhat he wanted, for no one could harbor enmity against the owner ofCastletown, a harmless, neutral character, whose house was open to thepoor; while his wife, a matron of the olden school (she was half-sisterto Sir John Fitzgerald, now M. P. for Clare), was beloved throughout thedistrict, for her kindness and charity.
Cussen well knew that his party, numerous but badly armed, would havebut small chance of success in an ordinary attack upon Castletown, welldefended as it was. He determined to win by strategy what he couldscarcely gain by force. He usually preferred such exploits as could beachieved rather by mental ingenuity than mere physical effect. To figureas the contriver gratified him, and encouraged his followers' beliefthat, no matter what the difficulty, his sagacity could bring it throughwith success.
About a mile from Castletown, and yet more remote from other largehouses--for it was in a part of the country half-bog, half-mountain--wasRossmore, the residence of Mr. John Shelton, owner of a considerableproperty. Long confined to his chair by gout, which had deprived him ofthe power of walking, he had not taken any part in the countyproceedings, as a magistrate. Nor, while other resident landlords weresoliciting assistance to protect their dwellings, had Mr. Shelton joinedin the entreaty. Isolated by habits and local situation, from the gentryof the district, he believed that the Whiteboys would not obtrude on theobscurity of one who felt that, as a good landlord, he did not deserveill at the hands of any one. Of his large family there were thenresiding with him a son aged about eighteen, and two daughters someyears older. As Mr. Shelton was my own uncle, I can speak confidently asto the details which I give.
About ten o'clock, on a fine evening in March, 1822, the peacefulinhabitants of Rossmore House were disturbed by a Whiteboy visit. Thedoors were speedily forced in, front and rear. The helplesshousehold offering no resistance, the intruders proceeded to makethemselves quite "at home." One division sat down in the servants' hall,threw wood and turf on the fire, and commanded the trembling femaleservants to cover the long table with provisions. Others ranged throughthe adjacent apartments in search of arms. More loudly called out foryoung Charles Shelton. The plan of Cussen was to take this lad toCastletown a prisoner, and threaten to shoot him in sight of thegarrison there, unless all the arms and ammunition were given up. Thetwo families were on such friendly terms, besides being related, thatCussen made sure of Mr. Conyers making any sacrifice rather than see hisneighbor's son killed. But, in very truth, (as I afterwards knew,)whatever Mr. Conyers might have felt, the military force at Castletownwould rather have permitted the murder than
part with the means ofdefence--the catastrophe at Churchtown being in their minds.
Charles Shelton, who slept in an upper and remote apartment, did notimmediately hear the tumult below. His elder sister, Alicia, who hadhigh spirit and much self-possession, heard the clamour--readilysurmised the extreme danger of her brother--hastily arose, throwing ashawl over her night dress--ran to her brother's room, the door of whichshe locked, securing the key--and then went down boldly to face thedanger, if necessary.
While she stood near the door of the servants' hall, regarding what wasgoing on, but herself unseen, Cussen came in from the back-yard, havingkept aloof from the confusion until then. He was just in time. Thefrightened servants, in compliance with loud demands for drink, hadplaced the whiskey-jar upon the table. Knowing that success, and evensafety depended on such indulgence being abstained from, he broke thejar with the fowling-piece he carried.
His men looked at each other, then at him, but his stern looks awedthem. One or two merely muttered a regret that "such prime stuff" shouldbe wasted.
Cussen then, as if anxious to avoid all chance of recognition, returnedto the back of the house. He wore a close-fitting skull-cap, with a slipof crape in front, and could see whatever occurred. His followers weremore or less disguised, and all, except Cussen, had white shirts overtheir garments--hence the name Whiteboy.
Perceiving the power of his leadership, Alicia Shelton determined not towaste words or time in entreaties on the men, but to appeal at once toCussen. She managed to leave the house without being noticed--foundCussen outside, leaning on his fowling-piece, in a thoughtful andabstracted mood. To throw herself on her knees before him--to implorehim for the love of Heaven to save her brother's life--was theimpulsive action of a moment. He turned away, not even looking upon her,and then--the present peril giving her new energy and courage--sheseized him by the coat-skirt and earnestly said, "You want to take mybrother to Castletown. There they will see him torn to pieces beforethey will surrender their arms. You must know that it will be an idleattempt. Then, in their disappointment, your men will kill him. Savehim--save my brother, if you have a human heart. I know that you will doit, and I will bless you if you do."
She sank on the ground before him. He felt that she was speaking thetruth. Besides, he was moved by her entreaty. Raising her from theground, he said, in a kind and soothing manner, "Lady! I am afraid thatwe must have your brother's company, but no harm shall reach him with myconsent."
Her convulsive grasp still held him. Striving to extricate himself, hegot into the moonlight, and then, for the first time, he had a view ofher features. She was very handsome; and now, with her dark hairdishevelled, her eager glance, her graceful attitude, her earnest tone,her light attire, she looked a Pythoness.
Cussen gazed long and anxiously on the still kneeling suppliant. Someold memory may have passed through his mind in that brief space--a wavein life's vast ocean. Perhaps some resemblance of form, feature, orvoice brought back a glimpse of bygone days of happiness and love. Therestill was something tender in that troubled heart. He passed his handsacross his eyes, as if he would clear them from a mist, and then with agentle courtesy, as if they were in a ball-room, raised Miss Sheltonfrom the ground.
"Lady," said he, "whatever I can do to aid you, I will do. They have notyet found your brother. If he be concealed, keep him so, and I will makesome pretext to draw off my men. They must have whatever arms are in thehouse; but they shall be content with that."
Miss Shelton would have expressed her warm gratitude, but Cussen did notwait to be thanked. He turned away then. While she yet lingered, withclasped hands to heaven, he suddenly returned, politely raised his capfrom his head for a moment, took one of her hands in his, pressed hislips to it, with the gallant air of a cavalier, and then withdrew.Almost before Alicia Shelton had regained her own apartments, Cussen hadgiven his men the word to retire. He led them into the belief that themilitary and police were approaching, and this made them hastily retreatand disperse, taking with them all the arms in the house except a smallpair of pistols which Captain Shelton had picked up and brought awaywith him from Waterloo. They are now in my own possession.
Before Miss Shelton had risen from her earnest thanksgiving for herbrother's safety, Captain Rock and his force had departed. She thenventured into her father's room, from whence his bodily ailments did notallow him to move, and was happy to learn that he had not heard thetumult which had prevailed in the more distant part of the house. Thusterminated a night of terror.