ing of the mutiny, turned traitor, and declared for O'Brien. The castle was a formidable structure; but the soldiers were prevailed upon at least to maintain their conquests and revenge an act of treachery. They returned under the walls, and sent in a message that, if the Irish would surrender, they might depart with their lives; if they resisted, they should die, man, woman, and child. There were seventy of them—all men, it would seem; so that the latter part of the menace was needless. They believed themselves secure, and replied with a defiance. The place was assaulted instantly. Thirty English were killed; but the defence, though desperate, was useless. 'I suppose I kept promise with them,' wrote the deputy in his despatch to the King; 'and there was such an order taken as I trust all Irish rebels will take heed how they keep castles or holds? against your Grace's power.' The garrison had 'the pardon of Maynooth,' and were hanged to a man.
In this campaign Grey had done well. He had succeeded so far as success was in his power; and he was not to blame because the Irish treasury was bankrupt; or because the treasurer, with the national desire to say whatever was most immediately pleasing, had sent to the King such a splendid account of his expected revenue that no preparations had been made for the deficit. But the disappointment from his failures was greater than the enjoyment of his achievements. He returned to Dublin, irritated at the behaviour of the men, the mutilation of the enterprise which it had caused, and the neglect of those whose reports had been
