VINEGAR HILL, WHERE OVER 1000 IRISH REBELS DIED IN A SINGLE DAY. Visit this dark but beautiful site! скачать в хорошем качестве

VINEGAR HILL, WHERE OVER 1000 IRISH REBELS DIED IN A SINGLE DAY. Visit this dark but beautiful site!

A cruel turning point in Irish history. Vinegar Hill may be beautiful, but it's steeped in Irish blood. A lot of work goes into these videos as you can well see! You can now buy me a pint as a means of appreciation for my work on Naked Ireland, no obligation, obviously - only if you can afford it... I appreciate it. Cheers. https://www.buymeacoffee.com/nakedire... We’re beginning today’s film on a quiet laneway just outside Enniscorthy in County Wexford. It's not signposted in a flashy way, just a narrow path between two houses. Blink and you might miss it. But make no mistake, this is the gateway to one of Ireland’s most important historic sites: Vinegar Hill. You’d be forgiven for thinking this is just another countryside path. But every footstep here is layered over one of the most pivotal moments in Irish history, the summer of 1798. At that time, Ireland was on the edge. Inspired by revolutions in America and France, the United Irishmen, composed of Presbyterians, Catholics, and some Protestants, rose up against British rule. Their dream? A new, united, and independent Irish republic. Vinegar Hill would become one of the focal points of that dream, and, tragically, the place where much of it came undone. In fact, for the United Irishmen this marked the last major attempt to hold territory taken in Wexford. Below the hill lies Enniscorthy, one of the key strongholds held by the rebels. For three weeks in June 1798, this town was effectively under their control, and Vinegar Hill became their command post, their fortress and their refuge. Over 20,000 men, women, and children were camped on this hill. It wasn’t just an army, it was a community. Makeshift tents stretched across the slopes, cooking fires flickered at night, and scouts watched the roads below. Some 16,000 rebels were armed largely with pikes and whatever weapons they could find. The hill offered not only a strategic advantage but also a sense of safety, until the morning of June 21st. On that day, British forces launched a massive and coordinated attack. Over 13,000 troops surrounded the hill from multiple directions. The rebels were trapped. For hours, cannon and musket fire echoed across these slopes. The British forces used a new experimental form of ammunition, Shrapnel shells, which had a devastating effect on the rebel camp… and by the end of the day, there was terrible loss. The final advance on the hill by the British saw them switch to grapeshot to maximise the casualties. It’s said that over 1,000 people died here on that day alone, many of them non-combatants. Some were captured, others executed in the days that followed. Captured female camp followers were sexually assaulted. But Vinegar Hill isn't just a place of bloodshed. It’s also a place of remembrance. A symbol of Ireland’s long road to nationhood. Every year, commemorations are held here to honour the fallen and to reflect on the ideals the rebels fought for, liberty, equality, and unity. For many, this is a place of pilgrimage. For others, it’s just a peaceful walk with a great view. But for everyone, Vinegar Hill offers a chance to reflect, on freedom, on sacrifice, and on the enduring power of memory. Our great Nobel laureate Seamus Heaney reimagined the horrors of this place in his poem Requiem for the Croppies. The pockets of our greatcoats full of barley... No kitchens on the run, no striking camp... We moved quick and sudden in our own country. The priest lay behind ditches with the tramp. A people hardly marching... on the hike... We found new tactics happening each day: We'd cut through reins and rider with the pike And stampede cattle into infantry, Then retreat through hedges where cavalry must be thrown. Until... on Vinegar Hill... the final conclave. Terraced thousands died, shaking scythes at cannon. The hillside blushed, soaked in our broken wave. They buried us without shroud or coffin And in August... the barley grew up out of our grave.