Lady Camden grew terrified at reports which reached her ears. Lord Camden shut himself up at the Viceregal Lodge, and promenaded the Ph[oe]nix Park, round which was a protecting military cordon. Lords and ladies left Dublin furtively. Some for England--some for their family acres in the far west; impelled--some by fear--some by the promptings of the chancellor--a few only by a sense of duty to their tenantry.

A certain earl set up a triangle in his barrack-yard, and was never weary of flaying the backs of the neighbouring peasants. To such lengths went he and his, that an English colonel, also quartered there, was forced to expostulate with his lordship, to the chagrin of the latter. My Lord Downshire retired to his hills, and kept his regiment within bounds. Indeed, he and my Lord Powerscourt were severely rebuked by the chancellor--the latter especially; for he dared to say that his tenants had been armed at his own expense for the protection of property, not for the commission of murders--upon which the chancellor groaned aloud; for this was a malignant example to others. My Lord Powerscourt, however, was not to be persuaded. He locked up his grand house in Dublin, and revisited it no more until the legislative struggle took place which concluded the century.

Nothing could be more dismal than the Irish capital now. There was a species of curfew at sunset, after which few ventured in the street.

Major Sirr and his myrmidons glided hither and thither on their devilish errand of cajoling men to their destruction. It was the business of these miscreants to provide victims for the lash by any means. Bands of drunken yeomanry awoke the midnight echoes with their shouting as they returned from breaking into a dwelling, or from flogging victims in the riding-school. For Claudius Beresford's riding-school had been turned by one of the practical jokes into a torture-chamber, where men, kidnapped on mere suspicion, were dragged and tied up, and lacerated without mercy night and day; whilst scurrying pa.s.sers-by fled onward with their fingers in their ears.

Some died under the lash--some swooned, to wake up idiots afterwards--some recovered, to wear till death livid welts upon their backs and inextinguishable hatred in their hearts.

My Lady Camden, growing more and more apprehensive--for her lord's babble was incoherent--resolved to go down into the city and see for herself what pa.s.sed there. She drove her four ponies along Ormond Quay, which was as deserted as if the town were plague-stricken; they swerved, and well-nigh upset her ladyship, for a single naked figure came tearing round a corner with wild yells and windmill arms, who, rushing past, flung himself over the parapet into the Liffey.

Helter-skelter behind him came the hounds--in scarlet coats and pipe-clayed cross-belts--but the lady-lieutenant saw them not. The agonised victim of a joke wore a pitched cap upon his head, which was set ablaze and was grilling his living brains. This pleasantry was spoiled, for the wretch had presence of mind left to seek oblivion in the water. But another joke succeeded, which bade fair to end badly for the jokers. The Viceroy's lady lay back in a dead faint. Her ponies galloped along the street with her, their reins catching round their legs. The joke might have ended in the breaking of her excellency's precious neck. As soon as possible after this episode, she retired to England, and my Lord Clare made capital out of the circ.u.mstance. Were not the people behaving disreputably, when even the wife of the King's representative had thought it necessary to take refuge in flight? There had been, he averred, a new project to storm Kilmainham and set the criminals at liberty. To what a horrid nation was it his destiny to belong!

It is not surprising that at this juncture he should have found an annoying stumbling-block in Curran. That worthy could do nothing but protest; but people who protest can make themselves very disagreeable, especially if they chance to peer further than the mob, and choose to tell what they see. Ca.s.sandra was only a mad woman, but we all know how unpleasant she could make herself. Curran had a clear head, a sharp wit, a biting tongue, and he exercised all three in the House of Commons, much to Lord Clare's displeasure. Now we have all learned that as we mount the rungs of the social ladder, society bows more and more before conventionality. Such a thing is 'vulgar'--such another 'low;' why or wherefore n.o.body can tell, though it probably arises from the fact that the more rarified the atmosphere, the more artificial become those who breathe it, the less liable to think for themselves, the more ready to lean on others' crutches, the more likely to be shocked at the enunciation of new problems, which they are too idle or too prejudiced or too stupid or too sluggish to trouble about sifting for themselves. It might be taken for granted that the senators of both Houses were aware--down in their soul-caves--how base was their line of conduct. But for the sake of their own interest, they had agreed to fence themselves about with a quickset of make-belief, for the concealment of their shame and the protection of their phantom-honour. It was a very vexatious thing, then, for a man who was gifted with an epigrammatic way of crystallising truths to make a snuffy little Solomon Eagle of himself--to persist in uncovering cancers which were decorously sheeted over, to unveil sores which were neatly trimmed about with sham roses.

Lord Clare, in his wrath, resolved to make another attempt to crush the viper. He set a specially rowdy band of jokers at free quarters at the Priory. They rollicked about, frightened Sara out of her wits, drank the lawyer's best whisky; but that vexed him not, for he was incorrigibly hospitable. He locked himself into his bedroom with his child, and droned out, to soothe her, a fantasia on the violoncello.

It may possibly have soothed Sara (though she was in awful trepidation lest young Robert should ride up and perceive how she was insulted), but it most certainly succeeded in irritating the jovial sons of Mars in the dining-parlour below. They yelled to Curran to come forth. He came. They took his violoncello and smashed it into bits. Sara quailed lest her father's choler should outstrip his reason; but he only murmured:

'They are actors, playing parts which are set down for them;' and addressing them, said, with scorching contempt: 'Sirs, you are sent here to insult, under his own roof, a man old enough to be your parent, and a young lady whose health is delicate. I sorrow to think that you are Irish, and that the fine cloth you wear should not exclusively be used by gentlemen.' Then, pa.s.sing through their midst, he saddled his nag, and, trotting into town, related his story to his friend Arthur Wolfe.

The attorney-general was terribly distressed. This stream, on whose bosom he had elected to sail, was taking him--whither? He flew to Ely Place, scolded the chancellor in terms which made the autocrat stare--in such terms of burning reproach that the latter saw he had made a blunder; that he had outstripped prudence, and sulkily signed the order to remove the obnoxious soldiery.

But he was not to be turned from his purpose by any maundering sentimentality on the part of the attorney-general. It was necessary, was it, to leave Mr. Curran alone? That was a pity, but all the more reason for a display of energy in another quarter. In pursuance of his determination, so sweetly expressed in metaphor, to tame the lion with blows and hot irons, Lord Clare proceeded, as chancellor of the University, to hold a visitation there, in order publicly to deplore the doings of the undergraduates.

The worthy gentleman was pained, he said. Alma Mater had taken the fell disease, the contagious epidemic (there could be no doubt about it), the only remedy against the spread of which was cautery. A number of students were ignominiously expelled; foremost amongst them Robert Emmett, (who was conspicuous for a tendency to inconvenient argument,) although his tutor, Mr. Graves, pleaded hard for him. Robert, filled with glee, rushed off to his brother's office to tell the glorious news--that he, boy though he were, had been deemed worthy of the martyr's crown. But when he reached the place he found that there were to be other martyrs besides himself. For the second time the house of his brother Tom was attacked and gutted. As he turned into the street, the presses were being pitched out of window, the types strewn in the mire, the tables and office-stools broken up to make a bonfire.

Knitting his brows, he crossed his arms and stood watching the yeomanry at play; then wheeling about, he made the best of his way to Cutpurse Row, where, in the cellar of a crazy tenement, the patriots were accustomed to a.s.semble, instead of riding out to the 'Irish Slave,' as they used more warily to do, before the destruction of the shebeen.

Russell, Bond, Dease, and others were there, delegates of the society for Dublin and its environs. Robert, looking round, perceived Ca.s.sidy fidgeting in a corner. Terence was not present. Ca.s.sidy observed this, and growled with disappointment between his teeth.

Tom Emmett was finishing a speech, wherein he declared to his audience that his opinions were changed. The French were coming; were, indeed, expected hourly. But it would not do to wait for them, as on a late disastrous occasion; a blow must be struck, a heavy and united blow.

If the French came to follow it up, so much the better. The shocking behaviour of the friends of Government was becoming hourly more unbearable; the outrages committed by soldiers at free-quarters daily more flagrant and atrocious. He spoke with Irish hyperbole and a burning fervour of conviction which just suited the temper of his hearers.

'We must heed no more,' he cried, 'the glare of hired soldiery or aristocratic yeomanry. War, and war alone, must occupy every mind and every hand in Ireland, till its oppressed soil be purged of all its enemies. Vengeance, Irishmen! vengeance on your oppressors! Remember the crimes of years! Remember their burnings, their torturings, their legal murders! Remember Orr!'

At the end of a long peroration he paused for breath; and Ca.s.sidy, who was evidently anxious to 'catch the speaker's eye,' trolled forth in his rich voice the words which were becoming familiar to every one's lips:

'What rights the brave? The sword!

What frees the slave? The sword!

What cleaves in twain the despot's chain, and makes his gyves and dungeons vain? The sword!'

All present took up the chorus, and looked towards the giants as though waiting for the next verse; but he raised his hand for silence, and said:

'Bedad, ye're right, friends. The sword's the only thing for poor Pat.

But be careful now. Where's the young lordling who makes himself so busy?'

'Councillor Crosbie should have been here,' returned a delegate.

'Maybe he's bin detained.'

Ca.s.sidy smiled a smile of meaning, and leisurely surveying the knot of men before him, replied with a dry cough:

'Maybe he has! Let's hope it's upon honest business. I've come here to give ye a word of warning, a friendly hint I gleaned up at the Castle.

I'd advise none of yez to go back to their own homes this day.'

'Why? Speak out, man. We are all friends here,' said Tom Emmett, calmly.

'Becase ye'll chance to find visitors if you do,' was the blunt rejoinder. 'Now I'm off.'

Robert Emmett eagerly corroborated the giant's hint. He had seen the soldiery but now in his brother's house. It was likely that if one was attacked, the dwellings of the rest would likewise receive a visit. It would never do for the prime movers in the conspiracy all to be trapped. Perhaps it was a false alarm, though. At Tom Emmett's a seditious print was published, which it was a wonder had been spared so long. The case of the delegates was different, for strict secrecy had been maintained concerning them. None save the members themselves knew who formed the central committee. Government spies had no means of knowing their names. In this at least they were cautious. That they had all taken the oath, was neither here nor there. If Government intended of a sudden to lay hands upon every Irishman who had taken the oath, they would do well to follow Herod's example at once, and order a general ma.s.sacre. No, no. It was absolutely impossible that either my Lords Clare or Camden, or Secretary Cooke, could possibly know who all the leading spirits were by whose agency the vast machine of conspiracy was set in motion. Tom Emmett must disappear for a while. His paper put him too much _en evidence_. It was good of faithful Ca.s.sidy to keep his ears open. Blunderer though he was, and lamentable as had more than once been the fruit of his blundering, yet was he now and then most useful, and deserved a special vote of thanks from the Directory, which then and there they pa.s.sed on him.

Apparently he was modest as well as virtuous, for in the cackle which followed his announcement he departed, his flat face aglow, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction at their compliments.

'So Emmett's paper was to be stopped at last,' they said one to another. 'The only marvel was that it should have been permitted so prolonged an existence. The last mouth which had lifted up its voice to speak the truth was to be gagged. It was indeed time to draw the sword.

Then Robert proudly told of his expulsion from Alma Mater; of my Lord Clare's overbearing mien at the visitation; of the many warm hands which had gripped his, as, disgraced but proud, he quitted the quadrangle.

Tom, his eye kindling with emotion, laid his hand upon his younger brother's head.

'Robert,' he said, 'what e'er betide, if, in the conflict which is imminent, we two be separated, the one who survives will be proud of him who's fallen. We shall conquer. Erin shall be free! But many must first lay down their lives for her! I pray G.o.d that it may be His pleasure to spare yours!'

Robert turned white, though his heart was stout. He was brave with the highest of all bravery, for though the sight of a cut finger made him ill, yet was he determined now to face the sea of blood, if need were, without blenching. His was a higher courage than that common one which looks on danger without fear. He knew that in action he should be in mortal dread; but he knew too that, upheld by duty, he would nevertheless be always in the van. A thought crossed his mind which brought with it a momentary tremor. When the fiery cross was at last lighted--when the hands of kinsmen were at each other's throats--when Dublin was burning--her gutters running red--what would be the fate of delicate sensitive natures like that of Sara--of sweet, pale Sara Curran, round whose form his heart-strings were softly wrapping themselves? What if he were to fall? what if fortune should not smile upon the patriots? He was quite aware that Heaven frequently delights in persecuting those who do well, and showering favours on the most undeserving, almost offering a premium for evildoing. Therefore, however just the cause of Erin, it was possible that her probation was not over--in such a case what would become of Sara, and such as her?

Dear gentle Primrose! He thrust the unwelcome thought aside. There were enough lugubrious subjects which might not be escaped, without wilfully conjuring up baleful images. He returned the pressure of his brother's hand, and with ardent eyes upraised, broke out into song once more, in which all joined solemnly, as though offering up a war-hymn:

'What shelter's right? The sword!

What makes it might? The sword!

What strikes the crown of tyrants down-- And answers with its flash the frown?

The sword!'

Truly there must have been something ill-omened about this special hymn. For the second time it served to cloak the advancing footsteps of the enemy. For the second time it was interrupted by the rap of the same unfriendly fingers.

Somebody was knocking--somebody gave the pa.s.sword 'Mr. Green.' It must be Terence. He had promised to come, in order that a military scheme of his might be discussed; one of which Emmett approved highly, though stupid Ca.s.sidy had affected to laugh at it. Certainly it must be Terence, who bade fair to become the leader they had all been sighing for so long in vain. Why did not some one run and open the door? It is but poor manners to keep a gentleman waiting in the street. Robert was hastening to do so--for he loved Terence dearly--when he was stopped by the old woman who kept the house.

'Whisht! Master Robert, darlint,' she said in a terrified whisper.

'Sure, I looked from the garret window and saw the glint of bayonets.

For the love of the Holy Mother have a care!'

Swiftly the boy climbed the stairs and looked out. The hag's aged eyes had not deceived her. The street was surrounded by a cordon of soldiers, who stopped pa.s.sengers at either end at the bayonet's point.

A guard of yeomanry was stationed at the front door; another at the private back-entrance, which was accessible by a tortuous pa.s.sage into a side-street. A short person with hooked beak, eyes too close together, shaded by brows which met in a tuft over his nose, was knocking. It was Major Sirr. How could he know of this back-entrance?

How did he know that the watchword was 'Mr. Green'? There was of a surety hideous treachery somewhere!

Robert returned to his comrades and told them who was outside. Then Ca.s.sidy had been muddleheaded once again! The news he had brought was worse than none, for it was misleading. Instead of bidding them escape forthwith from Cutpurse Row, he had told them to avoid their homes.

The houses was surrounded. _The secret back entrance upon which they relied was known_. Who was the Judas?

Having revealed so much, how much more might he not reveal? With troubled brain and clouded eye Tom Emmett looked on one and then another of the haggard faces before him.

The knocking continued. Some step must be taken. Happily half a dozen of the delegates were absent. The town-major might smoke out the nest.

Some of the hornets were abroad. This was a mercy. The entire brood would not be taken. Who were the absent ones? Terence! Tom Emmett wrung his hands together as the light broke on him. How blind! It was to him Ca.s.sidy had vaguely pointed. What a snake in the gra.s.s, with his clever military plan and pinchbeck enthusiasm! Tom remembered now the behaviour of Miss Wolfe to her cousin at the ball. Her veiled warnings. She was as true as steel. Alas! She could aid them no longer with her counsels. She had seen through her cousin, and, her family feeling coming into jarring juxtaposition with her devotion to unhappy Erin, had retired from the field, too deeply wounded to take any further part in the affray. Yes! It must be Councillor Crosbie who was the Judas. Tom Emmett saw it now that it was too late. In a few hasty words he conveyed his impression to his brother.