III. 1719 BOOK the whole party then surrounded their prisoner, who had partially recovered from her swoon, and deliberately told her in a manner evidently serious, that, unless she consented to marry one of the Fitzgeralds, they would all violate her in turn, and then murder her. With this announcement ringing in her ears, she was carried upstairs to what was called the officer's room. The priest followed and began to read. Terrified as she was she still resisted and forbade him to go on. He said that if he stopped, he would be killed. He asked her if she would be Fitzgerald's wife. It was like asking the lamb, with the butcher's knife at its throat, if it would be slaughtered. The marriage was declared to be complete. The victim was left to her ravisher; and her wild shrieks wrung some ineffectual pity from the wretches who were listening to her agonies.1 The reader is requested to understand that he has before him, in these stories, an account of real facts which happened not much more than a hundred years ago, in a country constitutionally governed by English law, under the English crown. The evidence is the sworn deposition of the sufferers themselves, and of such other witnesses as could be prevailed on to give their testimony. Human creatures have at various times made devils of themselves, but, probably, no age, and no part of the world, have produced specimens quite so detestable as these Irish gentlemen. In unmanliness, in cowardice, in ferocity, in a combination of all the qualities most hateful and despicable in man's nature, they had achieved a distinction as yet unmatched. Yet such was the condition of Irish public opinion, that their performances were en 1 'Deposition of Rebecca White.' MSS. Dublin Castle. 1719. couraged by the clergy, and were so much in favour with general society, that they were allowed to escape retribution. When all is said, the desire of England to place the responsibilities attached to landed tenure in safer hands was not indefensible, nor were the objections unnatural to the intrusion into the country of men calling themselves priests, who were willing to lend themselves to such atrocious and accursed acts of infamy. A combination of superstition with deliberate villany has been many times observed in Catholic countries. The brigand chief, who has cut a throat in the morning, and burnt a village in the afternoon, will go through his evening devotions at the shrine of the Madonna with the ardour of unaffected piety. A similarly curious anxiety was at times displayed for the soul of some outraged Protestant woman by men whom, unless for the purpose of incurring merited damnation for their unpunished wickedness on earth, it would be difficult to credit with the possession of souls themselves. Among the wealthy yeomen of Cavan was a certain Walter Tubman, residing near Carrigaline, who had an only daughter named Jane. On a forenoon in November, 1730, her father, mother, and brothers being absent at the neighbouring fair, and no one being at home but Jane Tubman, her cousin Margaret, and some servants, a young Edmund McKiernan, an unwelcome acquaintance, lounged in, and after a few jests, to which he received no answer, he caught hold of Jane, and told her she must go with him. McKiernan was apparently alone. There were other houses within call. The woman flung open the door, thrust her arm into the staple, and shouted CHAP. I. 1719 1730 BOOK 1730 for help. McKiernan, unable to move her, swore if she did not withdraw her arm he would break it. Immediately after she found herself in the grasp of half a dozen powerful men, dragged into the road, and flung across a horse's back. She was an unusually strong girl. She clutched at their hair and pulled it off in handsful. She tore their shirts open. Half a dozen times she threw herself on the ground, to be tossed back upon the horse with execrations: one of the men at length held her on by force, another thrust his hand into her mouth, and when she made her teeth meet through his fingers, a third gagged her with a handkerchief. At length senseless and exhausted, the blood streaming from her nose, she lay swooning on the saddle. The party then divided. Five fell behind to prevent pursuit, and turned back the Tabman's farm-servants, who had followed to rescue their young mistress. McKiernan and two others went on with their victim over bogs and curraghs, till they arrived late at night at the cabin of a widow Kilkenny deep in the mountains. Sick, faint, and hoarse, covered with blood, bruised and wounded in many places, the unhappy girl was here lifted off and carried in, and McKiernan at once, and without a moment's respite, told her she must prepare to be his wife on the instant. Dreadful as her condition was her spirit did not fail her. She said he might murder her if he so pleased; she would rather die than submit to his purpose. The widow, pretending compassion, affected to interpose. She said that no harm should befall the poor creature that night; she should sleep with her own daughter; the door should be locked, and McKiernan should not come near her. She believed the old I. wretch, as she had no choice but to believe. In a CHAP. romance she would have found a real protector, and before morning deliverance would have come. Reality 1730 is more cruel than imagination. She had no sooner thrown herself exhausted on the bed, than the door was burst open; McKiernan rushed in, flung the other woman out of the room, bound Jane Tubman hand and foot, and then mercilessly violated her. When she recovered consciousness in the morning she found herself surrounded by a gang of desperadoes, all Papists, and, as presently appeared, Papists who attended to their religious duties. They told her that they were McKiernan's guards, and that a hundred men should not take her from them. For a week she was carried from place to place, never resting two nights under the same roof. At the end of it 'an old dirty fellow' was introduced, with a long beard, and in his hand a string of beads.' She was made to stand up, McKiernan holding her, while the priest repeated a few words in Latin, and then said that she was lawfully married. With admirable spirit she still defied both of them; her body was in their power, but her will and conscience were still her own; and she sternly refused to make her chain more easy by consenting to wear it. Her father and her father's friends would find her yet, she said, and would see them all punished. Unless her father was strong enough to inflict the punishment with his own hand, McKiernan knew, unfortunately but too well, that from Irish justice he had nothing to fear. 'Damn father's soul,' he coolly said. 'If you escape and go back to your friends, I'll burn your father's house over his head, and take you away again.' your BOOK III. 1730 for help. McKiernan, unable to move her, swore if She The widow, pretending compassion, affected to interpose. She said that no harm should befall the poor creature that night; she should sleep with her own daughter; the door should be locked, and McKiernan should not come near her. She believed the old |