On the morning of the 11th of July, about the hour that the guard dispersed, as we have before mentioned, Mrs. Tyrrell went in her carriage from Clonard to her own house at Kilreiny upon some domestic concerns—she soon heard the Rebels were approaching, and speedily drove back with the hope of reaching Clonard before them.
In this however she was disappointed; the noise of musquetry convinced her of the impractibility of this attempt. The servant was ordered to turn about and drive to Kilreiny, from whence she intended to send an express to Edenderry—she had not however proceeded many yards, when the carriage was overtaken by two men on horseback, armed with drawn swords who with oaths and menaces ordered the servant to stop—They turned the carriage back towards Clonard until they overtook about 200 men armed with pikes, a few musquets and some swords. They searched the carriage for arms, but did not find any. Mrs. Tyrrell describes the men as a ragged, wretched looking banditti: three of them, armed with musquets mounted the boot of the carriage; three more got behind it—and in this manner attended by a great crowd, the carriage was drove two miles round to the high road leading from Dublin to Clonard: here they kept her a prisoner, notwithstanding her frequent entreaties to be enlarged; she at one time apprehended the pike-men would cut her to pieces, as they
quarrelled among themselves, some disposed to treat her with civility—others the reverse—After some time she prevailed upon them to permit her to retire into a cabin, the inhabitants of which knew her, and two men armed with musquets were placed as centries. She there remained, until the Rebels were defeated at Clonard, when the whole body upon their retreat assembled at the cabin; one of the rebel officers came in and desired Mrs. Tyrrell to get into her carriage; she asked for what purpose. He replied, that she must go with them; she entreated him to permit her to remain where she was, and that her carriage and horses were at his service; he for some time denied her request: but falling on her knees to supplicate him, he told her she might stay:—He then withdrew, but immediately a great common fellow came in, seized her by the arm, dragged her to the door, and desired some men to lift her upon a horse, which had been provided for her, as some wounded men were to be put into the carriage. Mrs. Tyrrell's alarm now became excessive—she looked
round for the person, who had consented to let her remain in the cabin, and getting her arms round him reminded him of his promise. He acknowledged his engagement, but confessed he had not power to perform it—that she must go with them, but would be accomodated with her own carriage. Three or four men then thrust her into the carriage, which moved on, attended by an immense body of people, and a great number of officers. When they had proceeded about a mile, the carriage was stopped and entered by Col. Perry, who said, he was fatigued. Mrs. Tyrrell endeavoured to prevail upon him to let her go—but in vain—she told him, she would use all her influence for his advantage, if ever she had an oportunity—He answered, that the Yeomen had taken a general officer, at Clonard, and that she must remain a Prisoner till his fate was known.—After some time, the carriage was stopped again, and a fellow came in, who told Col. Perry, he had a right to it, as he had taken it, and tho' quite a common fellow, Perry had not power to prevent
him. Mrs. Tyrrell then applied to this man for protection; he answered, that she could not obtain her liberty. She was now reduced to all the anguish of despair, when a gleam of hope suddenly darted across her mind, upon seeing a man riding beside the carriage whose countenance was perfectly familiar—This was one Kearns, a popish priest, who had been for some time a curate in the neighbourhood of Clonard, and had always been received in Mr. Tyrrell's house, with the respect due to his clerical function, and the hospitality of an Irish gentleman. Upon meeting a man, who had feasted for weeks together at her table, and a clergyman too! she thought herself secure and implored his protection:—He coldly answered—"O, yes, Madam"—But with all the base and black ingratitude of a sullen and unfeeling heart, insensible to past kindness, he drew back his horse, and with the jesuitical prevarication, natural to such a character, determined not to interfere, while he neglected to console her with an implied offer of assistance.——Thus deserted, she again abandoned
herself to despair, and began to prepare herself for that death, which she now looked upon as inevitable.——A man, who sat upon the boot of the carriage, was suddenly struck with the fervency of her devotion, and turning round, said, He had as much authority as any other man there, and that the lady should do as she pleased. Elevated a little from her despondency by this expression, Mrs. Tyrrell gave him her gold watch, promising him any further reward he would demand, if he would procure her liberty.——At this time a person in the garb of an officer, and whose countance beamed with the rays of humanity, rode up to the carriage—she immedeiately addressed him in the most supplicating terms—imploring him to take pity upon a poor defenceless woman, who had not, and who could not injure him—He interrogated her as to who she was and how she came there.—She told him—He protested, that he did not before know of any such thing and requested to know, what she wished to do——She replied that she only required to be let on her feet, that she might proceed
home. He immediately ordered the cavalcade to stop—handed her out of the carriage in the most kind and humane manner—conducted her thro' an immense crowd of armed men, and apologized for not accompanying her to Clonard, by saying, "she knew, he could not do it with safety."—Mrs. Tyrrell made him the acknowledgements of a grateful heart, and begged to be entrusted with his name, that if ever it should be in her power, she might return the kindness she had then experienced and repay the obligations she had received.—He said, he was afraid, she could not do him any service, and with apparent reluctance, told her, he was Captain Byrne!—He then returned to his party, and Mrs. Tyrrell having met some of the people in whose cabin she was a prisoner, they accompanied her to Clonard, where she was consoled for all her sufferings by finding her husband and children alive.
The gentleman (for such his conduct evinced him to be) who called himself, Captain Byrne, proved to be Mr. Byrne of Ballymanus, in the county of Wicklow, who afterwards surrendered himself
to Government, and Lieutenant Tyrrell being in Dublin at the time, repaired to the Castle, had an interview with Mr. Byrne, expressed his acknowledgements to him in the warmest terms, and represented the conduct of Mr. Byrne to the administration in such a manner, as shewed the Lieutenant's sense of the obligation, while it promoted the lenient disposition which was afterwards manifested to Mr. Byrne.
Thus have we given an authentic detail of the battle of Clonard and the circumstances attending it, which in fact have been but little known, no official account having ever been published concerning it. One subject of regret however remains for the victors in the loss of Mr. Richard Allen, who died of his wounds in a few days after at Mullingar, regretted by all who knew him, as a young gentleman of unsullied integrity and undaunted courage—attached to his King by the purest principles of loyalty, and to his family by the warmest affection—He was a zealous yeoman and a steady friend. All that seems necessary to add, is to say