The nautico-arcadian life of Glas-aitch-e restored Doreen's mental equilibrium by degrees, which had been sorely shaken by recent proceedings in Dublin. There she had come to ask herself whether there could be indeed a G.o.d with eyes to see and ears to hear, or whether the new-fangled creed was the correct one, which spoke of a mysterious principle--a species of magnet--in accordance with whose influence, as a dumb machine, the affairs of the world marched in established sequence. But in the front of this superb nature it was impossible to hold any such cold-blooded theory. When on waking she opened her cas.e.m.e.nt to drink the brine-laden air, her youthful vigour got the better of her sorrows. She marked, stretching on the one hand as fare as ken could reach, the wondrous _silhouette_ of mountains, rising tier behind tier in its series of morning changes from jetty black to purple and then orange; or, not so far away, the chameleon cliffs whose varieties of effect were endless. She watched the seals tumbling in flocks; the guillemots and gannets at play, and shrieking petrels, Ca.s.sandras of the deep; and the eagles that had their eyrie in the dizzy crags of Malin-Head, disdaining low companionship. Then peering down from her window-sill, straight as a plummet-line, into that wondrously pellucid ripple, she mused of the legends of the place concerning the McSweenys--kings of those parts; known as the McSwynes of the unconquered axe, till Sir Amorey set his foot upon their necks; of how the rude chieftains had built themselves this fortalice, defended by three rows of concentric battlements, and had held it in the teeth of Corsair-fleets till the awful day of retribution for long thieving, when Sir Amorey Crosbie came--himself the greatest thief; of how, by stratagem, he lured the defendants out upon the narrow strip of sand which the waves leave bare at ebb, then scaled the rocks upon the other side with all his merry men, and watched with laughter while the garrison perished in the rising waters; of how their bracelets and ornaments and collars of gold were washed up from time to time to attest the truth of the story; of how the elfin-guard were sleeping even now within circ.u.mjacent caves, to clatter forth in force when wanted. If that were true, sure they would have come out long since, seeing what their motherland had suffered. Yet, after all, not so: for this wild region had naught to do with the throes which had racked Erin's frame for seven centuries. It was cut off, severed as by a spell from the world's troubles and its tragedies.

Doreen felt this strongly when she went among the people on the mainland. Not one of them could speak anything but Gaelic--their mental ken saw nothing beyond the arrival of the salmon, or the number of distressful rents in a new fishing-net. They talked with awe of the sleeping bodyguard; had p.r.i.c.ks of conscience when they slew their maiden-aunts; looked with compa.s.sion on Miss Wolfe when she entered upon mundane arguments. Vainly she strove to persuade them that the treasures which the waves threw up were relics of the Spanish Armada--a portion of which was shattered in these ironbound creeks and gullies. They preferred to believe in the McSwynes, and did; yet for all that they came to adore Doreen, who was of their own faith; who never shot her coracle upon the beach but she was sure to be surrounded forthwith by a bevy of dancing, screaming imps that sprawled upon the sand, that sidled up to have their heads patted like little tame nut-brown birds; then fluttered off to herald out the fact that the good lady had arrived ash.o.r.e. The people loved her, and she loved the people. The Irish heart is so warm, that a very little kindness will win it--for that very reason, perhaps, their English foes have chosen to repulse the gift, as one of too easy attainment to be worth the winning!

Once or twice she was persuaded by her cunning aunt to accompany Shane along the northern coast in the yacht. He was making a prodigious fuss about the Martello towers, and it would amuse her to explore the bays and inlets. Once--only once--she sailed down Lough Sw.i.l.l.y, when her cousin went thither to examine the forts of Knockalla and Inch; and was royally entertained at the barracks of Letterkenny, by the amateur soldiers quartered there. It was like returning into Hades after a glimpse of the stars. The sheepish looks and bungling compliments of the squireens could not hide from her that this was the fabric from which the yeomanry were cut who hanged the people and burnt their cottages.

At Letterkenny the world began again--the wicked, cruel world.

Inwardly she prayed that at least the harmless folks of Ennishowen might be spared, though all the isle beside should have to pa.s.s under the yoke. But the sight of these ruffians in uniform made her quail for them. Since Fate debarred her from the right of joining her people in their suffering, she would close her ears to their cries if she could, and return into the world no more.

The gentry about Derry and Antrim were divided upon all subjects except ruffianism. On this point they were in surprising concord. They were for the most part Presbyterians. The republican nature of their tenets disposed them to join the United Irishmen, and many entered heartily into the conspiracy, until Government agents demonstrated that the triumph of the popular party would bring with it Catholic emanc.i.p.ation.

Now the Ulster men of the middle and upper cla.s.s were Orange as well as Presbyterian. They looked upon a Catholic as a toad--an unclean thing which had no business to be created--which must be hurried out of life without delay, as a lesson to their Maker to make such mistakes no more.

Therefore, upon this fact being made quite plain to them, their patriotic ardour cooled amazingly, and they bade fair to rival the excesses of their brethren down south.

At this very dinner a tipsy young 'half-mounted' told as a fine joke a tale of what had happened at Armagh when he went there 't'other day to buy a horse. A certain rapscallion,' he said, 'was suspected of having some gunpowder concealed, contrary to the mandate of his Majesty.

Shots had been heard in the neighbourhood of his cabin--that was enough. He denied the charge, and so must be made to confess. How was it done? Mighty ingeniously, i' faith! He was hung up by the heels with a rope full of twist, by which means he whirled round most laughably, like a bird before the fire; while the soldiers lashed him with their belts to make him speak. But his stupid old father spoiled the joke; for upon his son calling on him for help he up with a turf-spade and broke a soldier's pate open; upon which, of course, the old fool had to be disembowelled.' The other sparks laughed with great he-haws at; this funny anecdote, till one of them, looking at Miss Wolfe, thought 'maybe the leedy didn't loike it.' And Shane, surprised that his stiff cousin should be such a milksop, changed the subject to the building of his towers. The stone being handy, they would take but little time, he said. So soon as his task was complete he would send down the yacht for these agreeable young sons of Mars, and entertain them at his quaint old castle.

'It was indeed moighty koind in his lordship, to be sure; anything they could do to obleege,' etc., etc. So there was a great shaking of hands and display of newly-acquired military salutes, and everybody was charmed with everybody, except Doreen, who voted them bears and brutes, whilst they thought her stuck-up.

After this episode, nothing could induce her to revisit Letterkenny.

She spent her time in daydreams, drifting about in her coracle for hours, to return dripping wet, but, in a hazy way, more than half content. There is never much snow in Ennishowen, because brine is inimical to snow; but in winter there is much rain and mist and dense sea-fog, which penetrates to the bones and chills them. When the revolving cycle brought fine weather, she liked to establish herself by her window, to watch the strange glory of the dawn, sitting, as she smilingly observed, in her 'Grianan,' or sun-chamber. And what a spectacle it was to lull a vexed spirit into peace! First, as light crept near, she was aware of nothing but a vast sheet of pearl--above, below, around--without line to mark where earth or sea joined heaven.

Her enchanted prison seemed the centre of an orient jewel, through which the light of heaven filtered dimly. She occupied a magician's castle, suspended by mystic agency in a translucent ether of opal hue.

The illusion was complete, for presently tiny cloudlets of rose and grey flecked the s.p.a.ce above, to be repeated in dappled reflections on the still mirror below, which as yet knew no rim. Cloudlets overhead; cloudlets far down, under the hanging castle. Then, by imperceptible degrees, the opal flushed to bra.s.s with spots of tarnish (where seaweed banks shone through). Then a ridge of palest pink loomed into shape from nothingness, warming slowly to blood-red, and darkening to Tyrian purple--and the misty film was rent and crumbled, and lo! there was the rim to the still mirror--the glorious rim of that n.o.ble mountain-chain, now turned to a sharply-defined deep-blue--in unison with sky and water.

Doreen was comforted for the day when nature chose thus to open the casket for her; and rowed, or fished over the garden parapet, and was, by reason of her new peacefulness, more soft than heretofore with her aunt; and even strove sometimes to make herself agreeable to Shane. My lady marked the improvement as a good omen of success, but was not quite satisfied; for there was mixed with the damsel's good behaviour a cool indifference which suggested a carelessness of what should next befall.

When Shane was cross (alas! he grew crosser as he grew bored), Doreen's face never lost its calm. If it had, her aunt would have felt more easy, for it would have shown that the young lady noticed her cousin's moods. But no; she was kindly and polite--was not even shocked, as his mother was, when my lord made a boon-companion of the skipper of his yacht, hobbing and n.o.bbing till both master and man were magnificently drunk. My lady was really displeased at this, for it wounded her pride that the head of the house should condescend to such companionship. Squireens from Letterkenny would have been better; but then they might have made love to the young lady, and my lady had settled in her mind that n.o.body must do that but Shane.

Poor mother! How earnestly she schemed, and how little came of her scheming! With what angelic self-denial she endured the ghostly whisperings of the chairs and tables, which would keep babbling of that past, however much she stopped her ears. Shane made no effort to woo his cousin. On the contrary, her superior manners and serene airs provoked him, by causing him to feel how inferior he himself was to her. Norah never made him feel this, for she did dreadfully vulgar things sometimes, for which he liked her as he chid her--things which would have made his mother's white hair stand straight up on end--tricks which the colleen had learnt from her good-natured plebeian mamma. Now he never would have dared to chide Miss Wolfe; for even in her wildest escapades--when conversing with mysterious young men at night, or galloping helter-skelter over the country--she carried matters with so high a hand that even my lady herself was routed. Indeed Shane, though far enough off, was nearer to love than she was, for he felt something akin to a good wholesome hatred of his cousin, whilst she was only indifferent to him.

The fact was, that Shane, not being fond of booklore, became sullen and fiercely sulky, as week followed week and he found himself a prisoner with no prospect of release. He had a suspicion that he had been trapped. Yet, while he revolted at the thought of it, his nature was too weak to permit of his shaking himself free without, at least, somebody's friendly countenance.

Now and then he ventured to suggest that there really was no reason why they should not return to Strogue. The French fiasco had put an end to danger from the Continent, as well as to the pretensions of the United Irishmen. What was his mother's opinion? Surely she must be tired of being cooped up, much as she seemed to love the place--(love it! poor lady!)--for she never went on sh.o.r.e among the benighted Catholics, being content, as a change, to make a solemn progress on the lough on calm days, rowed by ten st.u.r.dy rowers. Should her son order the yacht to take in bag and baggage? Should he send a messenger on horseback, to announce their proximate arrival in Dublin?

To all of these insidious proposals my lady merely opposed a quiet negative, producing budgets from her pocket--voluminous letters from Lord Clare--upon the events which were pa.s.sing in the capital.

According to him, affairs grew worse and worse, instead of better. The perverseness of his countrymen was appalling to an enlightened mind.

There was no knowing what might happen. His dear old friend's second son was behaving ill. Happily, the loyal behaviour of the elder one would be counted as righteousness to the family, by a forgiving and benignant Government.

'It was evident from this,' she declared, with a decision there was no gainsaying, 'that Shane must do as he was doing. Terence might choose to disgrace himself; so Shane's conduct must be all the more immaculate.' (My lady's voice did not falter as she discussed this delicate matter. Doreen merely frowned and turned away.) 'It was the duty of Shane, for the sake of the honour of the Glandores, to keep staunch to the side of Government--the side of law and order--and the best way of doing that was by stopping where he was.'

Shane groaned in spirit, but submitted, and cursed the patriots by all his G.o.ds--empty-headed, crack-brained fools--who thus stood betwixt him and pleasure. He pined for Norah, for Cherokee suppers, Blaster orgies. Why, he was almost forgetting what a duel was like! His rapier was rusting on the wall. He became crabbed in his enforced idleness; pinched viciously the satin skins of his pet dogs, instead of stroking them; took more and more to claret; was constantly making trips to Letterkenny.

With the exception of Lord Clare's occasional budgets, the party received little news, save garbled accounts from Letterkenny barracks.

My lady insisted upon reading her own letters aloud, for the benefit of her niece; but that young person heeded not the chancellor's prosing, being serenely occupied in following the gyrations of a seamew, or the eccentric movements of a fishing cormorant, so that oft-reiterated abuse of her friends troubled her temper in nowise; and her aunt marvelled how it could be that the froward girl should have become proper and submissive, like well-behaved young ladies.

Is it not singular how to some people we unaccountably and invariably are impelled to show only the ugly or seamy side, which forms part of all our characters, and how to others we, without special effort, always turn the best? My lady and Doreen, though they dwelt together, never really knew each other. At times Doreen considered my lady mad; always harsh and disagreeable; while it was never given to my lady to detect the unselfish devotion and the strong worship of all that is beautiful and free, and the overpowering horror of all that is unjust and base, which was the better phase of her niece's character.

As for the newspapers, nothing could be gleaned from them. So soon as a paper became popular, it was acquired by money or threats (with the exception of Tom Emmett's, which ran its rigs unchecked), and patriotism gave way to padding. There was little Irish intelligence.

The Dublin prints might as well have been edited at Sierra Leone; and Doreen turned with impatience from their dulness. She received few letters herself, for there was no one to write to her except the proscribed, and, of course, it would not do for treasonable correspondence to pa.s.s through the hands of Lord Glandore, who amused himself by sailing to Rathmelton for the bag. There was no convenient shebeen here, where notes might cunningly be dropped; no useful Biddy or Jug Coyle--not even a handy cabin; for, whilst the peasantry round Dublin were one and all ready to do anything for the cause, those of Ennishowen cared not about it. And she was not sorry for this. With the French fiasco her hopes had melted--she knew too well the discordant elements which composed the Irish Directory. All that had kept its members together had been the expectation of French a.s.sistance--now that that was over they would fall asunder, and Cinderella would sit down again amongst the ashes. And was it not indeed better so? The wrath of G.o.d was kindled, for some reason which she knew not, against unhappy motherland. Was it not better, then, that her sons should accept their bondage with meekness rather than waste their blood uselessly? Doreen's contentment sprang in the first instance from the nipping of despair. A moment comes to us in our sore trouble, when we fold our arms and murmur, 'By G.o.d's mercy there is a limit to the sense of feeling. We have reached that limit, and will feel no more;' and, strange as it may seem, with that resolve comes an impression of calm, which, in its way, is a sort of negative happiness. We have lost something, we are bereft of something which above all things we valued, yet we seem vaguely better for the loss.

It is like the expression of peace which all blind faces wear, though their most precious treasure has been stolen--the sense of sight.

Doreen shrank from probing her own feelings with regard to Terence.

Certainly his conduct distressed her more than seemed warranted by circ.u.mstances. She did not love him. No, not so bad as that, happily.

She liked him as a fond sister might like a brother many years her junior, with a good-humoured satisfaction when he did well--for instance, when he made a splendid leap out hunting, or a particularly felicitous shot with his gun; and a feeling of pained displeasure when he did ill. And she told herself that he had behaved very ill, so ill that the fact of his existence must be erased from the tablets of her memory. That he should prove to be so double-dyed a traitor, so despicable and dastardly a schemer, filled her soul with horror.

Being a hero-worshipper, she had always despised him in a kindly superior way, for he was sleek and contented and commonplace, blessed with a good digestion; had looked on his grovelling contentment with pity, and is not pity contempt clothed in tenderness? To have been so interesting Manfred must have had a terrible digestion; while as for the Corsair, I know that in private he suffered from dyspepsia. Whilst taking it for granted that Terence was too easy-going ever to become truly heroic, his cousin had warmed to him on the night at the theatre, when his indignation induced him to take the oath. That all that fervour should have been craftily a.s.sumed for the purpose of deceit was too repulsive a subject for reflection, and she put it from her. Maybe if she had calmly brought her mind to bear on it, she might have perceived that she was hasty, and have remembered that it is not right to condemn criminals unheard. But she had caught a glimpse of two ugly facts, and withdrew her gaze from them at once without further inquiry.

Somebody was a traitor. The delegates had been betrayed more than once under the cloak of friendship. My lady had told her distinctly (or in her haste she thought so) that Terence had done the evil deed, for the paltry wage of five hundred pounds. She had deemed that her cousin at least was honest, and before thrusting his image from her sight, had felt, with a soreness for which she could not account, that she would have been very, very glad if she could have p.r.o.nounced him innocent.

Doreen, though she diverted her attention from the painful subject, was wondrously interested--down in her inmost heart--in the guilt or innocence of Terence, and felt a feeble flutter there, whose cause, if she had understood it, would have disgusted her. As it was, the flutter in time died a natural death, and, disillusioned, she sank into the apathetic condition of one who drifts and is content to drift--a rudderless resignation which is beyond despondency--an utter hopelessness with which his behaviour, though she wist it not, may have had something to do.

Not long after her arrival at Glas-aitch-e she received a letter from her father, in which was enclosed another, with whose seal the upright gentleman had refrained from tampering. It was brought to him by an aged crone, who extracted a solemn promise that he would not open it.

'If ye promise,' she said, 'I'll believe ye, Arthur Wolfe, for ye're a good man, or ye would not be given so good a child.'

The eccentricity of the speech pleased the attorney-general, who sent on the letter. It was from his G.o.dson Theobald, and Doreen recognised with grat.i.tude the delicate tact which induced her father to pretend that he did not know from whom it came. It removed from her mind the portion of its load which was endured on his behalf; for the young hero was safe. His vessel escaped as by a miracle through the centre of the English fleet. Hoche too was safe. Both were to join the army of the Sambre and Meuse at once. He spoke no more of help from France; was evidently as disappointed as Miss Wolfe was. The dream was over.

His sword belonged to the French Republic now, his uniform was that of a French general. He must carve a name for himself among the ranks of the foes of France. Doreen thanked G.o.d that his pure young life had not been idly thrown away. Might it be reserved for glorious deeds on behalf of Erin in the future? It was not likely. Better far that he too should have abandoned hope; for Ireland was prostrate, never to rise either in his lifetime or in hers. All they could do was to bear as humbly as they might, shading their eyes from cruel sights--waiting as serenely as was possible for the call to a less hateful world.

So Doreen considered the seabirds and the transparent deeps, and patted little savages on the pate, and smiled her quiet smile, and made believe to be tranquilly resigned; though all the while she was entranced--numbed as by a spell.

CHAPTER VII.

SMITTEN WITH SERPENTS.

Doreen was wrong. The French did not abandon so lightly their scheme of striking at Albion through Cinderella. They revictualled their fleet, made good the damage done by winds and waves, and looked forward to the accomplishment of their object within half a year or so of their first failure. To make victory doubly sure, a second fleet was got together in the Texel, under the command of the solid Dutchman, De Winter, who agreed with the Gallic Directory that now was the time or never; for the British navy was utterly disorganised--there were mutinies among the sailors at Plymouth and at Portsmouth, and one more serious still, under Parker, at the Nore.

What moment could be better chosen for conveying an army to Ireland than one in which the mistress of the seas lay crippled; when the Channel--unusual circ.u.mstance--was open to the world? Wolfe Tone, however, did not recover his enthusiasm. The conduct of his brethren at home, when friendly vessels were in the offing, had been reprehensible--pusillanimous. Instead of rising and making a vigorous effort for freedom, those who pretended to be their chiefs had bickered and shilly-shallied among themselves--a sight to command the scorn of honest men--and the young hero was profoundly discouraged. He began to doubt his countrymen; yet would he not desert them though they seemed inclined to desert themselves, but joined the Texel fleet, under Daendels and De Winter, hoping and praying for the best. It was a fine fleet of fifteen sail of the line and ten frigates. If the wind would only blow fair--if the shoals and sandbanks of the Texel were once safely pa.s.sed--then success was certain. For Admiral Duncan, who was watching, had but a few vessels under his command, and even some of these were called home in consequence of the Nore troubles.

'Hurry then!' cried De Winter and old Daendels. 'Ship the troops, and let us be off.'

The troops were shipped--everything was ready; but Daendels and De Winter whistled vainly for a fair wind. The elements, as usual, were on the side of England. Before, there had been too much wind; now, not a breath stirred the air. The sea was a dead calm. The admirals and generals marched up and down the deck--beautiful--in blue, with rainbow sashes, and hats prodigious with great plumes of the three colours. But no breeze moved a feather of the plumes. Exasperated, they descended to the cabin to while away the time with music, while the precious sand was dripping in the gla.s.s. De Winter had a pretty talent on the flute, as also had Tone, and so these two warriors obliged the company with duets--artistic trills and variations--what a strange spectacle! But by-and-by their patience oozed out of the flute-holes--they cursed themselves, and flung about the music in a pa.s.sion; and indeed the clerk of the weather was vexing. June was merging into July--the mutinies were being put down--the golden opportunity was slipping visibly away; Lord Bridport cruised out with a fleet to watch the French at Brest; Duncan's handful became a squadron, swinging idly at the Texel's mouth; the soldiers, unaccustomed to close packing, showed signs of sickness; the provisions were sensibly diminishing; unless fortune should choose to turn her wheel with speed this expedition would be a greater fiasco even than the other.

Meanwhile there was a panic amongst the friends of Government in Dublin, who knew not that the elements were fighting for them. The position of England was most critical. Should this new enterprise succeed, what chance of succour could there be from Britain? None. She had quite enough to do to cope with her own difficulties. There were forty thousand soldiers who had been drafted into Ireland by degrees; but could these be relied on? The Hessians were beery brutal wretches, who would probably turn coward at a pinch. The Scotch and English regiments made no secret of their abhorrence of the att.i.tude of the native yeomanry. As for the militia, it was disaffected, and would certainly fling itself into the balance on the side of probable success. The people were fiercely sullen--in a dangerous mood, like rats prepared to spring. If the French should come and be victorious, they would rally like one man round the tricolour, and then woe to the small knot of tyrants! Not one of the ascendency party could hope to escape. Not a Protestant lord or lady in the land but would be hacked in pieces with the inevitably accompanying atrocities of internecine strife. It was an awful prospect. My lords, who had been blindly following the lead of the executive, looked uneasily towards the Castle. They had done as they were bidden, aided by promises and pensions--but of what use is a pension when your throat is cut? Were they to be protected from the growling rabble--these hereditary legislators, who had abused their trust--these amateur colonels who had disgraced their cloth--this venal degraded senate which was a byword among senates? Members of both Houses were nervous. Had their zeal led them perhaps too far? Would it be better to hedge a little--to permit the miserable cottagers to exist in peace? The Privy Council debated long and anxiously. Lord Camden was frightened at the acts which were perpetrated in his name. Mr. Speaker ventured to remark that a line of commendation from Mr. Pitt, and a promise of help in case of need, would be consoling to his coadjutors. Arthur Wolfe became plunged in melancholy. He was drifting on a stream which sickened him, towards a palpable goal which he contemplated with terror. Was there no escape from the horror that was looming? He looked to Lord Clare as to a helmsman who is responsible for the safety of the crew.

But Lord Clare's nerves did not desert him at this crisis. His clear intellect told him that it was too late for hedging; now there was no retreat. King George hated the Catholics, and would smile on those who evilly entreated them. Mr. Pitt had sketched out a plan of action long ago, which must be carried out faithfully to the letter. Mr. Pitt had decided that Cinderella must be put on the rack; that her limbs must be given a good wrenching; and that afterwards--so soon as she should know by experience what agony really is--she should be tucked up cosily and made comfortably bedridden for the rest of her natural existence. It stood to reason that she would scream--so would you or I if thus surgically treated; but when once we grow used to it, there is a charm about being bedridden. People come to amuse us--to feed us with dainty things; they coddle us and comfort us, and we are really not unhappy. Therefore, although these unfortunate mutinies had somewhat complicated the case, it would never do to blench at so critical a moment. Having put his hand to the wheel, my lord chancellor knew that he must look steadily forward, and not backward.

His countrymen must be taught that any _regime_ would be better than the one under which they groaned; the senate must be made so to commit itself that it could never raise its head again so long as the world rolled; then what would be easier than to consummate the original plan, to abolish the senate, and absorb Ireland by stratagem into the body of a complete British empire--one and indivisible?

So wrote the chancellor to Mr. Pitt, who replied in courteous language; for his chief puppet was jumping admirably: he would soon be battered and worn out--would then have to be replaced by another. But the doll was not past service yet--it was still gay and bright with paint; was still capable of dancing: so Mr. Pitt wrote civil letters to Lord Clare, bidding him not to stick at trifles. Thus supported, Lord Clare spoke clearly at the Council Board. Desperate diseases must be met with desperate remedies, he said. Arthegal, figure of justice in the Faery Queen, is armed with an iron flail. The people are furious, are they? Then they must be made more furious still. When you want to tame a lion do you pat him? No, or he would rend you. You strike him with whips--touch him with red-hot irons. To be governed he must be ruled by fear; and so is it with the people of this island.

Having gone as far as we have, it will never do to show that we're afraid of them. They must be ground down--must be rendered so pa.s.sive by exhaustion that, French or no French, they will be too weak to do much harm. In the first place we'll arrest those lads again who have been playing the fool too long. We will make a plunge at the leaders, so that if the Gauls should happen to arrive, they will find n.o.body in authority to co-operate with them.

Lord Camden endorsed these sentiments, mumbling plat.i.tudes about self-preservation; that it has unpleasant duties, but that many unpleasant things have to be done, etc., etc., and the council broke up; my Lord Clare strutting forth to give his orders, Arthur Wolfe moving slowly homeward with a worn and troubled face. Then by deft hints and nods and winks, my Lord Clare brought those who served him to know what was expected of them. He rallied the members of the Houses on their nervousness.

'You wear his Majesty's uniform, my lords and gentlemen,' he said. 'I presume you would not wish to be mere carpet-knights. The Irish always were good fighters. You will defend the King's rights if it comes to a brush with the rabble?' He gave the squireens to understand that they were fine jovial fellows, with a strong sense of humour and a subtle appreciation of a practical joke. 'Now that recent invention of yours,' he observed airily, 'of wringing confession from a man by hanging him, then cutting him down before his soul has had time to escape, is vastly droll!'

Thereupon the jolly boys, determined to win yet further commendation, and delighted to give vent unrestrained to the native brutality of uneducated man, set their wits to work and gave birth to other inventions. We know that a demand invariably creates a supply. The gentlemen of the yeomanry vied one with the other in cultivation of their inventive faculty and the result was an array of practical jokes, novel and splendid indeed! Even the great French reign of terror was thrown into the shade. The French, as we all know, are not inventive or witty. A guillotine--a constant flow of blood and falling heads; a boat with a trap-door to drown people by the dozen--amusing rather for a minute, then nauseously dull and monotonous. The jolly Irish boys were much wittier than this, and more ingenious; and yet, by one of the strange chances of history, people shudder still over Robespierre and Marat and their doings, and are absolutely careless and ignorant as to what was done at home not ninety years ago.