march, an advanced party found two of the rebels, ' one of whom,' says he, was killed by the guard before I came up; the other was saved, and being brought before me, I asked him if he had a mind to be hanged, and he only answered, if you please?' At another time, Ludlow says, he found some poor people retired within a hollow rock, which was so thick that he thought it impossible to dig it down upon them, and therefore resolved to reduce them by smoke. After some of his men had spent most part of the day in endeavouring to smother those within, by fire placed at the mouth of the cave; they withdrew the fire, and the next morning, suppos ing the Irish to be made incapable of resistance by the smoke, some of them crawled into the rock, but one of the Irish, with a pistol, shot the first of his men; by which he found the smoke had not taken the desired effect, because, though a great smoke went into the cavity of the rock, yet it came out again at other crevices; upon which he ordered those places to be closely stopped, and another smoke to be made: and the fire was continued until midnight, then taken away, that the place might be cool enough for his men to enter the next morning; at which time they went in, armed with back, breast, and head-pieces, found the man who had fired the pistol dead, put about fifteen to the sword, and brought four or five out alive, with the priests' robes, a crucifix, chalice, and other furniture of that kind, but no arms. Those within preserved themselves by laying their heads close to a waterfall that ran through a rock. We found two rooms

in the place, one of which was large enough to turn á pike."

The reflection of Dr Curry, on this wretched scene of cowardly barbarity and mean revenge, is worthy of the head and the heart of this most valuable writer." Such," says Dr Curry "were the enemies whose lives those gallant regicides were incessantly hunting after; a score of despoiled people lurking in caverns from the fury of their pur suers, and furnished but with one pistol to guard the entrance of their hiding-place. From the cha racter of these barbarians, we may well believe, though Ludlow does not mention it, that these four or five wretches whom they brought alive out of the rock, soon after met with the fate of their com panions." Wretched indeed are such triumphs to those who have the misfortune to boast of them; and disastrous must that period be to the ill-fated native Irishman, which exhibited the sanguinary fanatical republicans of England, thus sporting with human blood, and pursuing the brave and unbending Irishman with as much fury as they would the ourang-outang, or the tyger. Such a fact, coming from one of the most distinguished leaders among the fanatical partizans of Cromwell, is a faithful picture of the misery which Ireland experienced during this age of remorseless English despotism. Is the heart of the reader to be relieved hereafter by a cessation of Irish suffering? Alas! every page presents its scene of persecution; and the hand for which they have hitherto endured such cruel privations, will be hereafter seen striking the blow

which it was its duty to have averted. The petty tyrants of Cromwell will be forgotten in the base and unprincipled ingratitude of the monarch whom Ireland served with fidelity, and the torture of the bayonet will be found to give way to the more ingenious and more protracted torture of the law. Yet an Englishman has wondered that Ireland is not partial to the connection which has thus driven her to madness.-An Englishman has wondered that Ireland should writhe under the lash, or burn under the faggot; he has smiled at that obstinacy which the Irishman calls fidelity, and has deplored the errors of that judgment which the Irishman dignifies with the name of conscience. Thank God, a better feeling has arisen. The Englishmen of the present day begin to appreciate the Irish character with more justice and a profounder sagacity-they estimate his loyalty in proportion to his attachment to the faith of his fathers, and repose their confidence in his honour, in proportion to the courage and the firmness with which he has repelled the temptations of corruption, or the threats of power.

3 14

THE

HISTORY OF IRELAND.

CHARLES II.

A. D. THE reader of the foregoing pages must 1660. have long since been wearied with the dismal narrative of suffering which we have endeavoured to detail, and which we have struggled to condense into the smallest number of facts that the nature of our work would permit. There has been but little respite from exasperating oppression and unmerited cruelty. The eye wanders over a dreary scene of desolation without a single point on which it can rest; the heart of the philanthropist sinks under a hopeless despondency, and passively yields to the unchristian and impious reflection, that the poor people of Ireland are a devoted race, whom Providence has abandoned to the malignant ingenuity of an insatiable enemy. It would have been reasonable to suppose that the cup of misfortune was completely filled; that the enemy was exhausted in their efforts to torture and to destroy; that

THE HISTORY OF IRELAND.

159

the unhappy native, despoiled and hunted into the desert, would have been suffered at least to exist, the wretched monument of human change, and the living evidence of human malignity. Hitherto the Irishman has been persecuted by the fanatic and the plunderer. Hitherto the struggle was with the English adventurer, who would wade through the blood of Irishmen to the possession of Irish property. Hitherto the Irish had to contend with a rapacious enemy, from whom no mercy was to be expected or received. The reign of Charles II., however, throws an ingredient into the cup of Irish misfortune, which the ingenuity of ancient tyranný did not discover; which makes the memory of Charles II. rank higher in the annals of infamy, than Nero or Caligula; and which is only to be equalled by the stupid credulity with which a nation so treated has clung to the memory of the most despicable monarch that ever occupied the throne of Great Britain.

The reader has not forgotten the inflexible fidelity with which the Irish people stood by the house of Stuart in all their varied calamity. He has not forgotten the royal promises which were so lavishly poured forth, of indemnification for the past, and security for the future. He does not forget the honest and indignant ardour with which the murderers of Charles I. were pursued by the Irish people, until the fraudulent councils of such friends as Ormond broke their spirit, dissolved their union, and sowed division and distrust in every bosom. The arm of Ireland was still held out to her injured