Never, perhaps, even in the tragic history of Ireland, has a more unexpected catastrophe than that of May 1882 come to dash to the ground the national hopes. On the 6th of the month, the new Viceroy and the new Chief Secretary entered Dublin in state—the heralds, as it appeared, of the new regime of conciliation. Late that afternoon, as Lord Frederick Cavendish was walking across the Phoenix Park in company with Mr. Burke,- the Under Secretary, they were set on by assassins armed with knives, and brutally murdered.
The criminals escaped, and for a considerable time all efforts to trace them failed. Over the whole of the British Isles there was horror at the news of this terrible outrage. In England there was blind rage, which made no distinction between millions of innocent Irishmen and a mere handful of miscreants. That the Irish Party as a whole, or any single member of it, approved of the deed—still less had any share in it— probably no British statesman believed. Parnell condemned and lamented the murders in a speech in the House, showing an emotion which he rarely displayed. A manifesto was issued, signed by him and by Dillon and Davitt, declaring that they would not be satisfied till the stain on their country had been wiped out by the capture and punishment of the assassins.