My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 2 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the UnionWingfield, Lewis
History
My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 2 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the Union
Wingfield, Lewis
Historical fiction; Ireland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
'Do not despise your enemy, my lord. That association at first was
small,' pursued Curran, 'the earth seemed to drink it as a rivulet. A
thousand streams, through the secret windings of the earth, found
their way to one source and swelled its waters; it is prepared now to
burst forth as a great river--what will its cataracts not sweep away?
It is you, my lord, who will have aggravated sedition into rebellion.'
'Dear, dear!' smiled Lord Clare. 'Do you, too, listen to their
claptrap? I say to you, as I've said openly all along, nothing can be
more lenient than the executive! We stand simply on the defensive. I
don't mind telling you in confidence,' he continued, eyeing his
companion askance, 'that there is a plot which is to be carried out at
this very ball to-night, for kidnapping his excellency and your humble
servant, and locking us up somewhere quite cosy and comfortable.
Audacious and clever, is it not? Yes, we have all the details--indeed,
we had them yesterday, which may account to you for the muster of
troops in the yard below, and the display of scarlet on the stairs and
in the corridors. Clever, but, oh dear, how wild! I hope for their own
sakes that the troops will daunt them; for nothing could come of this
but an unseemly scuffle which would distress the ladies. Would you
like to hear the rest of the plot? If these fools shall succeed in
possessing themselves of our valuable carcases, a rocket is to be sent
up from the corner of Ormond's quay, when two parties will start
simultaneously--one to seize the artillery at Chapelizod, the other to
surprise Newgate and Kilmainham. You look astonished. Well you may,
for it is indeed astonishing.'
Curran looked deeply pained, but made no reply. The chancellor's cold
flippant tones pierced his heart like knives. How could a band of
unwary, warm-hearted, impulsive fellows, who were prepared to dare all
for motherland, cope with this hard calculating schemer? Truly, it was
well for them that _he_ was there. The feeblest arm may be nerved by
wrong for miracles. It was news of this rash project which had changed
his plans as to the ball. He saw at a glance that it was
impracticable. He had explained this to those whom it concerned; that
it was an impossible compromise between those of the Directory who
wished to wait, and those others who were for commencing a regular war
this winter, which could be productive of nothing but disaster. The
enthusiasm of the delegates had simply exasperated him. The God of
battles, they said, was always on the side of right! Was He? Such had
not been the experience of Mr. Curran's schooling. All he could do was
to intercede with those in power--to make a final call on their
humanity; and if that failed, humbly to bend the knee to Providence.
He was moving away when Lord Clare stopped him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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