L—— was dead and gone. There was no use in pushing the matter any further. Nothing could be gained by any disclosure I could make, and the only question that troubled me, and sometimes troubles me now, is, was what I saw in Creeve House a vision or a dream?
FROM THE JAIL TO THE
BATTLEFIELD.
Early in the year 1743 a post-chaise, making for Dublin, was stopped on the road near Castleknock by two highwaymen, one of whom held the horses’ heads, while the other, with pistol in hand, opened the coach door, and addressed its single occupant with the brief command: “Your money or your life.”
The occupant of the carriage, Mr. Vesey, deeming prudence the better part of valour, handed out his money-bags containing several hundred pounds and his watch, and was then allowed to proceed to his destination. He at once acquainted the authorities; a vigorous search was set on foot, and in a few days two brothers named Silvester and William Keogh, who lived in the little village of Rathcoole, and who had a very bad reputation were arrested. One of these, William, was identified by Mr. Vesey as the man who had opened the door of the carriage and had robbed him of his money and his watch. He was unable to identify the other, who was, therefore, discharged from custody. William Keogh was put on his trial, and on the evidence of Mr. Vesey, convicted, and after sentence of death had been passed, was confined in old Kilmainham Jail, where the sentence was to be carried out.
A few days after the trial Mr. Vesey, who held a commission in the army, was ordered off for foreign service. He attained the rank of captain, and his regiment formed part of the English column that had so nearly made the field of Fontenoy “a Waterloo.” And when, before the impetuous onset of the Irish Brigade that almost invincible column broke, scattered, and fled, Captain Vesey lay with “his back to the field and his feet to the foe.” Two balls had pierced him and a clubbed musket, wielded by a fierce Irish exile’s arm, had reduced him to insensibility. But he was not dead. Louis, when he saw that the field was won, gave orders that the English wounded should be cared for as tenderly as his own soldiers, and Captain Vesey was carried from the field to the hospital at Lille by an Irish soldier, of the regiment of Berwick, of the name of Vaughan, who displayed towards him the greatest solicitude. Captain Vesey received the utmost attention from the officers of the Irish Brigade at Lille, who, now that he was wounded and a prisoner in their hands, remembered only that he was their countryman. He soon became convalescent, and able to join the officers at mess. One evening when in the rooms of the Count de St. Woolstan, the conversation having turned on the incidents of the battle, an officer remarked that Captain Vesey in all probability owed his life to the private who had carried him off from the field when to all appearance he was dead. Captain Vesey eagerly asked for the soldier’s name, and said it was strange that he had never looked to him for any recompense. Count de Woolstan undertook to find the soldier, and a few evenings later the latter presented himself at the count’s quarters and was shown into the presence of Captain Vesey. The captain could hardly believe his eyes, but if they did not deceive him, there before him stood William Keogh, whom he had believed to be lying in a felon’s grave in Kilmainham. He was about to call him by his true name, when it occurred to him that the recognition might be injurious to the man to whom he felt he was indebted for his life. He rose and thanked William Vaughan warmly for his kindness, and offered him twenty gold pieces, but the soldier refused to take it. He was greatly agitated as he answered:
“No, Captain Vesey, I will never touch a penny of your money again.”
“It would appear you have met before,” remarked the count.