IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS

VOL. III.

2 vols. 8vo. 32s.

IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS.

WITH A SUCCINCT ACCOUNT OF THE EARLIER HISTORY.

By RICHARD BAGWELL, M.A.

Vols. I. and II.

From the First Invasion of the Northmen to the year 1578.

London: LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.

IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS

WITH A SUCCINCT ACCOUNT OF THE
EARLIER HISTORY

BY

RICHARD BAGWELL, M.A.

IN THREE VOLUMES

VOL. III.

LONDON

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.

AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16^th STREET

1890

All rights reserved

[PREFACE]
TO
THE THIRD VOLUME.

By a mistake which was not the author’s, the title-pages of its first instalment described this book as being in two volumes. A third had, nevertheless, been previously announced, and this promise is now fulfilled. The Desmond and Tyrone rebellions, the destruction of the Armada, the disastrous enterprise of Essex, and two foreign invasions, have been described in some detail; and even those who speak slightingly of drum and trumpet histories may find something of interest in the adventures of Captain Cuellar, and in the chapter on Elizabethan Ireland.

A critic has said that your true State-paper historian may be known by his ignorance of all that has already been printed on any given subject. If this wise saying be true, then am I no State-paper historian; for the number of original documents in print steadily increases as we go down the stream of time, and they have been freely drawn upon here. But by far the larger part still remains in manuscript, and the labour connected with them has been greater than before, since Mr. H. C. Hamilton’s guidance was wanting after 1592. Much help is given by Fynes Moryson’s history. Moryson was a great traveller, whose business it had been to study manners and customs, who was Mountjoy’s secretary during most of his time in Ireland, and whose brother held good official positions both before and after. Much of what this amusing writer says is corroborated by independent evidence. Other authorities are indicated in the foot-notes, or have been discussed in the preface to the first two volumes. Wherever no other collection is mentioned, it is to be understood that all letters and papers cited are in the public Record Office.

It has not been thought generally necessary to give the dates both in old and new style. The officials, and Englishmen generally, invariably refused to adopt the Gregorian calendar, but the priests, and many Irishmen who followed them, naturally took the opposite course. As a rule, therefore, the chronology is old style, but a double date has been given wherever confusion seemed likely to arise.

It has often been said that religion had little or nothing to do with the Tudor wars in Ireland, but this is very far from the truth. It was the energy and devotion of the friars and Jesuits that made the people resist, and it was Spanish or papal gold that enabled the chiefs to keep the field. This volume shows how violent was the feeling against an excommunicated Queen, and, whether they were always right or not, we can scarcely wonder that Elizabeth and her servants saw an enemy of England in every active adherent of Rome.

At first the Queen showed some signs of a wish to remain on friendly terms with the Holy See, but she became the Protestant champion even against her own inclination. Sixtus V. admired her great qualities, and invited her to return to the bosom of the Church. ‘Strange proposition!’ says Ranke, ‘as if she had it in her power to choose; as if her past life, the whole import of her being, her political position and attitude, did not, even supposing her conviction not to be sincere, enchain her to the Protestant cause. Elizabeth returned no answer, but she laughed.’

The Elizabethan conquest of Ireland was cruel mainly because the Crown was poor. Unpaid soldiers are necessarily oppressors, and are as certain to cause discontent as they are certain to be inefficient for police purposes. The history of Ireland would have been quite different had it been possible for England to govern her as she has governed India—by scientific administrators, who tolerate all creeds and respect all prejudices. But no such machinery, nor even the idea of it, then existed, and nothing seemed possible but to crush rebellion by destroying the means of resistance. It was famine that really ended the Tyrone war, and it was caused as much by internecine quarrels among the Irish as by the more systematic blood-letting of Mountjoy and Carew. The work was so completely done that it lasted for nearly forty years, and even then there could have been no upheaval, but that forces outside Ireland had paralysed the English Government.

My best thanks are due to the Marquis of Salisbury for his kindness in giving me access to the treasures at Hatfield, and to Mr. R. T. Gunton for enabling me to use that privilege in the pleasantest way.

Marlfield, Clonmel,

March 17, 1890.

[CONTENTS]

OF

THE THIRD VOLUME.

[MAPS.]

[Errata.]

IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS.

[CHAPTER XXXVI.]

REBELLION OF JAMES FITZMAURICE, 1579.

Papal designs against Ireland. Stukeley.

Sidney’s departure had been partly delayed by a report that Stukeley’s long-threatened invasion was at last coming. The adventurer had been knighted in Spain, and Philip had said something about the Duchy of Leinster. The Duke of Feria and his party were willing to make him Duke of Ireland, and he seems to have taken that title. At Paris Walsingham remonstrated with Olivares, who carelessly, and no doubt falsely, replied that he had never heard of Stukeley, but that the king habitually honoured those who offered him service. Walsingham knew no Spanish, and Olivares would speak nothing else, so that the conversation could scarcely have serious results. But the remonstrances of Archbishop Fitzgibbon and other genuine Irish refugees gradually told upon Philip, and the means of living luxuriously and making a show were withheld. ‘The practices of Stukeley,’ wrote Burghley to Walsingham, ‘are abated in Spain by discovery of his lewdness and insufficiency;’ and he went to Rome, where the Countess of Northumberland had secured him a good reception. ‘He left Florida kingdom,’ said Fitzwilliam sarcastically, ‘only for holiness’ sake, and to have a red hat;’ adding that he was thought holy at Waterford for going barefooted about streets and churches. ‘It is incredible,’ says Fuller, ‘how quickly he wrought himself through the notice into the favour, through the court into the chamber, yea, closet and bosom, of Pope Pius Quintus.’ An able seaman, Stukeley was in some degree fitted to advance the Pontiff’s darling plan for crushing the Turks. The old pirate did find his way to Don John of Austria’s fleet, and seems to have been present at Lepanto. His prowess in the Levant restored him to Philip’s favour, and he was soon again in Spain, in company with a Doria and in receipt of 1,000 ducats a week.[1]

Thomas Stukeley on the Continent.

There was much movement at the time among the Irish in Spain, and the air was filled with rumours. Irish friars showed letters from Philip ordering all captains to be punished who refused them passages to Ireland, and the Inquisition was very active. One Frenchman was nevertheless bold enough to say that he would rather burn than have a friar on board, and those who sought a passage from him had to bestow themselves on a Portuguese ship. In 1575 Stukeley was again at Rome, and in as high favour with Gregory XIII. as he had been with his predecessor. The Pope employed him in Flanders, where he had dealings with Egremont Radcliffe. That luckless rebel had bitterly repented; but when he returned and offered his services to the queen, she spurned them and bade him depart the realm. From very want, perhaps, he entered Don John’s service, and when that prince died he was executed on a trumped-up charge of poisoning him. Stukeley was more fortunate, for he had then left the Netherlands, and Don John took credit with the English agent for sending him away. Wilson was equal to the occasion, and said the gain was the king’s, for Stukeley was a vain ‘nebulo’ and all the treasures of the Indies too little for his prodigal expenditure. It would be interesting to know what passed between the two adventurers, the bastard of Austria and the Devonshire renegade; between the man who tried to found a kingdom at Tunis, and talked of marrying Mary Stuart, conquering England, and obtaining the crown matrimonial, and the man who, having dreamed of addressing his dear sister Elizabeth from the throne of Florida, now sought to deprive her of the Duchy of Ireland. Like so many who had to deal with this strange being, perhaps the governor of the Netherlands was imposed upon by his vapourings and treated him as a serious political agent. After leaving Brussels he went to Rome, well supplied with money and spending it in his old style everywhere. At Sienna Mr. Henry Cheek thought him so dangerous that he moved to Ferrara to be out of his way. At Florence the Duke honoured Stukeley greatly, ‘as did the other dukes of Italy, esteeming him as their companion.’ But he was without honour among his own countrymen, and they refused a dinner to which he invited all the English at Sienna except Cheek.[2]

Fitzmaurice on the Continent.

James Fitzmaurice was already at Rome. He had spent the best part of two years in France, where he was well entertained, but where he found no real help. He received supplies of money occasionally. The Parisians daily addressed him as King of Ireland, but nothing was done towards the realisation of the title. Sir William Drury’s secret agent was in communication with one of Fitzmaurice’s most trusted companions, and his hopes and fears were well known in Ireland. At one time he was sure of 1,200 Frenchmen, at another he was likely to get 4,000; and De la Roche, who was no stranger in Munster, was to have at least six tall ships for transport. De la Roche did nothing but convey the exile’s eldest son, Maurice, to Portugal, where he entered the University of Coimbra. Sir Amyas Paulet had instructions to remonstrate with the French Court, and the old Puritan seems to have been quite a match for Catherine de Medici; but there was little sincerity on either side. The Queen-mother’s confidential agent confessed that all was in disorder, and that the French harbours were full of pirates and thieves, but she herself told Paulet that De la Roche had strict orders to attempt nothing against England. Having little hope of France, Fitzmaurice himself went to Spain, where his reception was equally barren of result. The Catholic King was perhaps offended at the Most Christian King having been first applied to, and at all events he was not yet anxious to break openly with his sister-in-law.[3]

Fitzmaurice and the Pope.

But at Rome, Fitzmaurice was received by Gregory with open arms. He was on very friendly terms with Everard Mercurian, the aged general of the Jesuits, who was, however, personally opposed to sending members of the order to England, Ireland, or Scotland; a point on which he was soon overruled by younger men. What the life of a Jesuit missionary was may be gathered from a letter written to the General about this time.

‘Once,’ wrote Edmund Tanner from Rosscarbery, ‘was I captured by the heretics and liberated by God’s grace, and the industry of pious people; twelve times did I escape the snares of the impious, who would have caught me again had God permitted them.’

But the harvest, though hard to reap, was not inconsiderable. Tanner reported that nobles and townsmen were daily received into the bosom of Holy Church out of the ‘sink of schism,’ and that the conversion would have been much more numerous but that many feared present persecution, and the loss of life, property, or liberty.

This chain still kept back a well-affected multitude, but the links were worn, and there was good hope that it soon would break.[4]

Fitzmaurice expects to free Ireland.

We know from an original paper which fell into the hands of the English Government, what were Fitzmaurice’s modes and requirements for the conquest of Ireland. Six thousand armed soldiers and their pay for six months, ten good Spanish or Italian officers, six heavy and fifteen light guns, 3,000 stand of arms with powder and lead, three ships of 400, 50, and 30 tons respectively, three boats for crossing rivers, and a nuncio with twenty well-instructed priests—such were the instruments proposed. He required licence to take English ships outside Spanish ports, and to sell prizes in Spain. Property taken from Geraldines was to remain in the family, and every Geraldine doing good service was to be confirmed by his Holiness and his Catholic Majesty in land and title. Finally, 6,000 troops were to be sent to him in six months, should he make a successful descent.

As sanguine, or as desperate, as Wolfe Tone in later times, he fancied that England could be beaten in her own dominion by such means as these. Sanders, who was probably deceived by his Irish friends as to the amount of help which might be expected in Ireland, had no belief in Philip, whom he pronounced ‘as fearful of war as a child of fire.’ The Pope alone could be trusted, and he would give 2,000 men. ‘If they do not serve to go to England,’ he said, ‘at least they will serve to go to Ireland; the state of Christendom dependeth upon the stout assailing of England.’[5]

Fitzmaurice and Stukeley.

Stukeley appears to have got on better with Fitzmaurice than with Archbishop Fitzgibbon, which may have been owing to the mediation of Sanders or Allen. The Pope agreed to give some money, and Fitzmaurice hit upon an original way of raising an army. ‘At that time,’ says an historian likely to be well informed about Roman affairs, ‘Italy was infested by certain bands of robbers, who used to lurk in woods and mountains, whence they descended by night to plunder the villages, and to spoil travellers on the highways. James implored Pope Gregory XIII. to afford help to the tottering Catholic Church in Ireland, and obtained pardon for these brigands on condition of accompanying him to Ireland, and with these and others he recruited a force of 1,000 soldiers more or less.’ This body of desperadoes was commanded by veteran officers, of which Hercules of Pisa (or Pisano) was one, and accompanied by Sanders and by Cornelius O’Mulrian, Bishop of Killaloe. Stukeley kept up the outward show of piety which he had begun at Waterford and continued in Spain, and he obtained a large number of privileged crucifixes from the Pontiff, perhaps with the intention of selling them well. It must be allowed that an army of brigands greatly needed indulgence, and fifty days were granted to everyone who devoutly beheld one of these crosses, the period beginning afresh at each act of adoration. Every other kind of indulgence might seem superfluous after this, but many were also offered for special acts of prayer, a main object of which was the aggrandisement of Mary Stuart.

Stukeley was placed in supreme charge of the expedition, which seems to have been done by the desire of Fitzmaurice, and the titles conferred on him by Gregory were magnificent enough even for his taste. He took upon himself to act as mediator between some travelling Englishmen and the Holy Office, and having obtained their release he gave them a passport. This precious document was in the name of Thomas Stukeley, Knight, Baron of Ross and Idrone, Viscount of Murrows and Kinsella, Earl of Wexford and Carlow, Marquis of Leinster, General of our Most Holy Father; and the contents are certified ‘in ample and infallible manner.’ Marquis of Leinster was the title by which Roman ecclesiastics generally addressed him.[6]

Battle of Alcazar, 1578. Death of Stukeley.

Stukeley left Civita Vecchia early in 1578, and brought his ships, his men, and his stores of arms to Lisbon, where he found nine Irish refugees, priests and scholars, whom Gregory had ordered to accompany him. He called them together, and, with characteristic grandiosity, offered a suitable daily stipend to each. Six out of the nine refused, saying: ‘They were no man’s subjects, and would take no stipend from anyone but the supreme Pontiff, or some king or great prince.’ This exhibition of the chronic ill-feeling between English and Irish refugees argued badly for the success of their joint enterprise. After some hesitation, Sebastian of Portugal decided not to take part in this attack on a friendly power, and he invited the English adventurer to join him in invading Morocco, where dynastic quarrels gave him a pretext for intervention. Secretary Wilson was told that Stukeley had no choice, ‘the King having seized upon him and his company to serve in Africa.’ Sebastian had also German mercenaries with him. There was a sort of alliance at this time between England and Morocco, Elizabeth having sent an agent, with an Irish name, who found the Moorish Emperor ‘an earnest Protestant, of good religion and living, and well experimented as well in the Old Testament as in the New, with great affection to God’s true religion used in Her Highness’s realm.’ Whatever we may think of this, it is easy to believe that the Moor despised Philip as being ‘governed by the Pope and Inquisition.’ But it is not probable that this curious piece of diplomacy had much effect on the main issue. Stukeley warned Sebastian against rashness, advising him to halt at the seaside to exercise his troops, who were chiefly raw levies, and to gain some experience in Moorish tactics. But the young King, whose life was of such supreme importance to his country, was determined to risk all upon the cast of a die. The great battle of Alcazar was fatal alike to the Portuguese King and the Moorish Emperor. Stukeley also fell, fighting bravely to the last, at the head of his Italians. It may be said of him, as it was said of a greater man, that nothing in his life became him so much as his manner of leaving it.[7]

Result of this battle.

The Geraldine historian, O’Daly, says Fitzmaurice landed in Ireland entirely ignorant of Stukeley’s fate, but this statement is contradicted by known dates. Nor can we believe that if Stukeley had come with his Italian swordsmen while Fitzmaurice lived, it would have fared ill with the English—that a little money and less blood would have sufficed to drive them out of Ireland. Yet it is probably true that the battle of Alcazar was of great indirect value to England. Sebastian left no heir, and the Crown of Portugal devolved on his great-uncle, Cardinal Henry, who was sixty-seven and childless. The next in reversion was Philip II., whose energies were now turned towards securing the much-coveted land which nature seemed to designate as proper to be joined with Spain. For a time, however, it was supposed that he would heartily embrace the sanguine Gregory’s schemes, and rumours were multiplied by hope or fear.

Ireland ill-prepared to resist invasion.

Lord Justice Drury knew that the lull in Ireland was only temporary, but Elizabeth made it an excuse for economy, and disaffected people, ‘otherwise base-minded enough,’ were encouraged to believe that the government would stand anything rather than spend money. By refusing to grant any protections, and by holding his head high, Drury kept things pretty quiet, but he had to sell or pawn his plate. He hinted that, as there was no foreign invasion, her Majesty might continue to pay him his salary, and save his credit. Meanwhile, he had some small successes. Feagh MacHugh made his submission in Christ Church cathedral, and gave pledges to Harrington, whom he acknowledged as his captain. Desmond and his brother John came to Waterford and behaved well, and a considerable number of troublesome local magnates made their submissions at Carlow, Leighlin, Castledermot, and Kilkenny; twenty-nine persons were executed at Philipstown, but the fort was falling down, and this was little likely to impress the neighbouring chiefs. Drury’s presence alone saved it from a sudden attack by the O’Connors. But a son of O’Doyne’s was fined for concealment, and his father took it well, so that it was possible to report some slight progress of legal ideas. Meanwhile there was great danger lest the Queen’s ill-judged parsimony should destroy much of what had been done in Sidney’s time. Thus, the town of Carrickfergus had been paved and surrounded by wet ditches; the inhabitants had, in consequence, been increased from twenty to two hundred, forty fishermen resorted daily to the quay, and sixty ploughs were at work. But over 200l. was owing to the town, the garrison were in danger of starving, and it was feared that ‘the townsmen came not so fast thither, but would faster depart thence.’[8]

Ulster in 1579.

Tirlogh Luineach O’Neill was now old and in bad health. It was again proposed to make him a peer; but this was not done, since it was evident that a title would make fresh divisions after his death. There were already four competitors, or rather groups of competitors, for the reversion; of whom only two were of much importance. Shane O’Neill’s eldest legitimate son, known as Henry MacShane, was supported by one legitimate and five illegitimate brothers, and Drury’s idea was ‘by persuasion or by force of testoons’ to make him a counterpoise to the Baron of Dungannon, whose ambitious character was already known. The bastardy of the baron’s grandfather had been often condoned by the Crown, but was not forgotten and might be turned to account. Against the advice of his leeches old Tirlogh was carried forty miles on men’s shoulders, to meet Bagenal at Blackwater, and said he was most anxious to meet Drury. Dungannon, who expected an immediate vacancy, begged hard for 200 soldiers, without which the MacShanes would muster twice as many men as he could. He promised not to go out of his own district as long as the old chief lived. Drury temporised, since he could do nothing else, and tried what effect his own presence in the North might have. The suddenness of his movement frightened Tirlogh, who got better, contrary to all expectation, and showed himself with a strong force on the top of a hill near Armagh, refusing however to come in without protection. This Drury refused on principle, and Tirlogh’s wife, who was clever enough to see that no harm was intended, tried in vain to bring her husband to the Viceroy’s camp. Meanwhile he and the Baron became fast friends, and the latter proposed to put away O’Donnell’s daughter, to whom he was perhaps not legally married, and to take Tirlogh’s for his wife. Drury made him promise not to deal further in the match; but his back was no sooner turned than the marriage was celebrated, and the other unfortunate sent back to Tyrconnell. At the same time Tirlogh gave another of his daughters to Sorley Boy MacDonnell’s son, and the assistance of the Scots was thus supposed to be secured. There were rumours that Fitzmaurice would land at Sligo, and a general confederacy was to be looked for. Fitton, who had been long enough in Ireland to know something about it, saw that the Irish had great natural wits and knew how to get an advantage quite as well as more civil people, and that Tirlogh, like the rest of his countrymen, would submit while it suited him and no longer.[9]

Fitzmaurice and Sanders sail for Ireland.

After Stukeley’s death James Fitzmaurice continued to prepare for a descent on Ireland. After his return from Rome he went to France, where he joined his wife, son, and two daughters. He then spent nearly three months at Madrid with Sanders, and obtained 1,000 ducats for his wife, who was then in actual penury at ‘Vidonia’ in Biscay. But he could not see the king, and professed himself indifferent to help from Spain or Portugal. ‘I care for no soldiers at all,’ he said to Sanders; ‘you and I are enough; therefore let me go, for I know the minds of the noblemen in Ireland.’ Some of Stukeley’s men, with a ship of about 400 tons, had survived the Barbary disaster. O’Mulrian, Papal Bishop of Killaloe, came to Lisbon from Rome with the same men and two smaller vessels, and by the Pope’s orders Stukeley’s ship was given to them. Sanders accompanied the bishop, and there seem to have been about 600 men—Italians, Spaniards, Portuguese, Flemings, Frenchmen, Irish, and a few English. It was arranged that this motley crew should join Fitzmaurice at Corunna, and then sail straight to Ireland. A Waterford merchant told his wife that the men were very reticent, but were reported to be about to establish the true religion. When questioned they said they were bound for Africa, but the Waterford man thought they were going to spoil her Majesty’s subjects. Meanwhile Fitzmaurice was at Bilbao with a few light craft. The largest was of sixty tons, commanded by a Dingle man who knew the Irish coast, but who ultimately took no part in the expedition. William Roche, who had been Perrott’s master gunner at Castlemaine, and James Den of Galway, were also retained as pilots. A little later Fitzmaurice had a ship of 300 tons, for which he gave 800 crowns, several small pieces of artillery, 6,000 muskets, and a good supply of provisions and trenching tools. The men received two months’ pay in advance.

Fitzmaurice’s one idea was to raise an army in Munster, and he told an Irish merchant who thought his preparations quite inadequate, that ‘when the arms were occupied’ he made no account of all the Queen’s forces in Ireland. He was accompanied by his wife and daughter and about fifty men, who were nearly all Spaniards. Sanders went to Bilbao after a short stay at Lisbon, and two merchants, one of Waterford and one of Wexford, who came together from the Tagus to the Shannon, reported that a descent was imminent. ‘The men,’ they said, ‘be willing; they want no treasure, they lack no furniture, and they have skilful leaders.’ To oppose a landing the Queen had one disabled ship in Ireland, and there were no means of fitting her out for sea.[10]

The voyage.

The French rover, De la Roche, in spite of Catherine de Medici’s assurance, seems to have co-operated with Fitzmaurice. John Picot, of Jersey, bound for Waterford with Spanish wine, was warned at San Lucar by a Brest man that De la Roche and Fitzmaurice spoiled everyone they met. To avoid them Picot kept wide of the coast; nevertheless he fell in with eight sail 60 leagues N.W. of Cape St. Vincent. They fired and obliged him to lower a boat, and then robbed him of wine, oil, raisins, and other things of Spain. Picot saw twelve pieces of cannon in De la Roche’s hold, but was warned significantly not to pry under hatches again. The Jerseymen were beaten, the St. Malo men spared, and all were told, with ‘vehement oaths and gnashing of teeth,’ that if they had been Englishmen they would have been thrown overboard—a fate which actually befell the crew of a Bristol vessel two or three days later. Finding that Picot was going to Ireland, his captors said they would keep company with him; but thick weather came on, and by changing his course, he got clear within twenty-four hours. A few days after Fitzmaurice was in Dursey Sound with six ships, and others were sighted off Baltimore. He picked up a fisherman and bade him fetch in Owen O’Sullivan Bere, but that chief refused, and three days later the invading squadron cast anchor off Dingle.[11]

Fitzmaurice and Sanders reach Ireland.

The portreeve and his brethren went off to speak with the strangers next morning. Some Spaniards whom they knew refused to let them come on board, and they sent at once to Desmond for help. The preparations for resistance were of the slightest. The constable of Castlemaine reported that he had only five hogsheads of wheat, two tuns of wine, three hogsheads of salmon, and some malt; and that he was dependent for meat upon such bruised reeds as Desmond and Clancare. There were neither men nor stores at Dublin, and no hope of borrowing even 500l. Cork had but five barrels of inferior powder, and no lead. At Waterford there were only 2,000 pounds of powder. All that Drury could do was to write letters charging the Munster lords to withstand the traitors, but a fortnight passed before he himself could get as far as Limerick.[12]

They land at Dingle.

Mr. James Golde, Attorney-General for Munster, writing from Tralee, thus describes the manner of Fitzmaurice’s landing, which took place on the day after his arrival at Dingle:—

‘The traitor upon Saturday last came out of his ship. Two friars were his ancient-bearers, and they went before with two ancients. A bishop, with a crozier-staff and his mitre, was next the friars. After came the traitor himself at the head of his company, about 100, and went to seek for flesh and kine, which they found, and so returned to his ships.’[13] On the same day they burned the town, lit fires on the hills as if signalling to some expected allies, and then shifted their berths to Smerwick harbour, taking with them as prisoners some of the chief inhabitants of Dingle. At Smerwick they began to construct a fort, of which the later history is famous. It was believed that Fitzmaurice expected immediate help out of Connaught. ‘Ulick Burke is obedient,’ said Waterhouse; ‘but I believe that John will presently face the confederacy.’ Drury could only preach fidelity, and commission Sir Humphrey Gilbert to take up ships and prosecute the enemy by sea and land.[14]

Proclamation of Fitzmaurice.

Fitzmaurice brought to Ireland two printed proclamations—one in English for those who spoke it and were attached to the English crown, the other in Latin for the Irish and their priests.

The first paper sets forth that Gregory XIII. ‘perceiving what dishonour to God and his Saints, &c.... hath fallen to Scotland, France, and Flanders, by the procurement of Elizabeth, the pretensed Queen of England; perceiving also that neither the warning of other Catholic princes and good Christians, nor the sentence of Pope Pius V., his predecessor, nor the long sufferance of God, could make her to forsake her schism, heresy, and wicked attempts; now purposeth (not without the consent of other Catholic potentates) to deprive her actually of the unjust possession of these kingdoms, &c.’ Any attack on the Crown of England is disclaimed; the usurper was alone aimed at, and the help of the English Catholics was considered certain. The Catholics were everywhere, but ‘Wales, Chestershire, Lancastershire, and Cumberland’ were entirely devoted to the old faith, and their proximity to Ireland increased their importance. Throughout England the husbandmen—the raw material of every army—were ‘commonly all Catholics.’ Elizabeth had a few friends indeed, but she would be afraid to send them away from her, and if Ireland remained united, all must go well. One great crime of Queen Elizabeth was her refusal to declare an heir-apparent; by espousing the cause of that heir, whose name is not mentioned, the reward of those who worship the rising sun might fairly be expected. Fitzmaurice explained that the Pope had appointed him general because he alone had been present at Rome, but that he intended to act by the advice of the Irish prelates, princes, and lords, ‘whom he took in great part for his betters.’ And his appeal ends thus: ‘This one thing I will say, which I wish to be imprinted on all our hearts, if all we that are indeed of a good mind would openly and speedily pass our faith by resorting to his Holiness’ banner, and by commanding your people and countries to keep no other but the Catholic faith, and forthwith to expel all heresies and schismatical services, you should not only deliver your country from heresy and tyranny, but also do that most godly and noble act without any danger at all, because there is no foreign power that would or durst go about to assault so universal a consent of this country; being also backed and maintained by other foreign powers, as you see we are, and, God willing, shall be; but now if one of you stand still and look what the other doth, and thereby the ancient nobility do slack to come or send us (which God forbid), they surely that come first, and are in the next place of honour to the said nobility, must of necessity occupy the chief place in his Holiness’ army, as the safeguard thereof requireth, not meaning thereby to prejudice any nobleman in his own dominion or lands, which he otherwise rightfully possesseth, unless he be found to fight, or to aid them that do fight, against the Cross of Christ and his Holiness’ banner, for both which I, as well as all other Christians, ought to spend our blood and, for my part, intend at least by God’s grace, Whom I beseech to give you all, my lords, in this world courage and stoutness for the defence of His faith, and in the world to come life everlasting.’[15]

Continuity of some Irish ideas.

The whole document is a good example of the sanguine rhetoric in which exiles have always indulged, and of the way in which the leaders of Irish sedition have been accustomed to talk. The part assigned to continental powers and to English Catholics in the sixteenth century, was transferred to the French monarchy in the seventeenth, and to the revolutionary republic in the eighteenth; and now, in the nineteenth, it is given to the United States of America, and to the British working-man.

A second proclamation.

A translation of the shorter paper may well be given in full:—‘A just war requires three conditions—a just cause, lawful power, and the means of carrying on lawful war. It shall be made clear that all three conditions are fulfilled in the present case.

‘The cause of this war is God’s glory, for it is our care to restore the outward rite of sacrifice and the visible honour of the holy altar which the heretics have impiously taken away. The glory of Christ is belied by the heretics, who deny that his sacraments confer grace, thus invalidating Christ’s gospel on account of which the law was condemned; and the glory of the Catholic Church they also belie, which against the truth of the Scriptures they declare to have been for some centuries hidden from the world. But in the name of God, in sanctification by Christ’s sacraments, and in preserving the unity of the Church, the salvation of us all has had its chief root.

‘The power of this war is derived first from natural, and then from evangelical, law. Natural law empowers us to defend ourselves against the very manifest tyranny of heretics, who, against the law of nature, force us, under pain of death, to abjure our first faith in the primacy of the Roman Pontiff, and unwillingly to receive and profess a plainly contrary religion; a yoke which has never been imposed by Christians, Jews, or Turks, nor by themselves formerly upon us. And so since Christ in his gospel has given the help of the kingdom of heaven—that is, the supreme administration of his Church—to Peter, Gregory XIII., the legitimate successor of that chief of the Apostles in the same chair, has chosen us general of this war, as abundantly appears from his letters and patent (diploma), and which he has the rather done that his predecessor, Pius V., had deprived Elizabeth, the patroness of those heresies, of all royal power and dominion, as his declaratory decision (sententia), which we have also with us, most manifestly witnesseth.

‘Thus we are not warring against the legitimate sceptre and honourable throne of England, but against a she-tyrant who has deservedly lost her royal power by refusing to listen to Christ in the person of his vicar, and through daring to subject Christ’s Church to her feminine sex on matters of faith, about which she has no right to speak with authority.

‘In what belongs to the conduct of the war, we have no thoughts of invading the rights of our fellow-citizens, nor of following up private enmities, from which we are especially free, nor of usurping the supreme royal power. I swear that God’s honour shall be at once restored to Him, and we are ready at any moment to lay down the sword, and to obey our lawful superiors. But if any hesitate to combat heresy, it is they who rob Ireland of peace, and not us. For when there is talk of peace, not with God but with the Devil, then we ought to say, with our Saviour: I came not to bring peace on earth, but a sword. If then we wage continual war to restore peace with God, it is most just that those who oppose us should purchase their own damnation, and have for enemies all the saints whose bones they spurn, and also God himself, whose glory they fight against.

‘Let so much here suffice, for if anyone wishes to understand the rights of the case he need but read and understand the justice and reasonableness of the fuller edict which we have taken care should be also published.’[16]

How Fitzmaurice understood liberty of conscience.

In these papers the arguments derived from the right to liberty of conscience, which all Protestants should respect, and from the Papal claims which all Protestants deny, are blended with no small skill; but Fitzmaurice, while demanding liberty of conscience for himself, expressly denies it to those who disagree with him.

Desmond and Fitzmaurice.

There can be no doubt that Desmond was jealous of James Fitzmaurice; and historians well-affected to the Geraldines have attributed the latter’s rebellion to the ill-feeling existing between them. It is said that Lady Desmond, who was a Butler, had prevented her husband from making any provision for his distinguished kinsman. It was reported to Drury that Fitzmaurice had called himself Earl of Desmond on the Continent, and that this would be sure to annoy the Earl, whose pride was overweening. But this does not seem to have been the case. Fitzmaurice is not called Earl either in his own letters or in those written to him. The general of the Jesuits addresses him as ‘the most illustrious Lord James Geraldine’; the Pope speaks of him as James Geraldine simply, and so he calls himself, sometimes adding ‘of Desmond.’ But that he should have been appointed general of a force which was to operate in Desmond’s country was quite enough to excite suspicion. No sooner did the news of his arrival reach the Earl than he wrote to tell Drury that he and his were ready to venture their lives in her Majesty’s quarrel, ‘and to prevent the traitorous attempts of the said James.’ He had nevertheless been in correspondence with Fitzmaurice, and had urged his immediate descent upon the Irish coast some eighteen months before.[17]

Nicholas Sanders, the Jesuit.

Not less important than Fitzmaurice was Dr. Nicholas Sanders, who acted as treasurer of the expedition. He was known by the treatise De Visibili Monarchia which Parker said was long enough to wear out a Fabius, and almost unanswerable, ‘not for the invincibleness of it, but for the huge volume.’ Answers were nevertheless written which no doubt satisfied the Anglican party, but the Catholic refugees at Brussels thought so highly of Sanders that they begged Philip to get him made a cardinal.

Making the best of both worlds.

The English were then in disgrace at Rome, where the appointment of a Welshman as Rector of the new college had caused a mutiny among the students, and Allen doubted whether his own credit was good, but it was upon him that the red hat was at last conferred. To Sanders must be ascribed most of what was written in Fitzmaurice’s name, and that was a small part of what fell from his prolific pen. Queen Elizabeth, said the nuncio, was a heretic. She was childless, and the approaching extinction of Henry VIII.’s race was an evident judgment. She was ‘a wicked woman, neither born in true wedlock nor esteeming her Christendom, and therefore deprived by the Vicar of Christ, her and your lawful judge.’ Her feminine supremacy was a continuation of that which the Devil implanted in Paradise when he made Eve Adam’s mistress in God’s matters.’ When a knowledge of Celtic was necessary Sanders’s place might be taken by Cornelius O’Mulrian, an observant friar, lately provided to the see of Killaloe, or by Donough O’Gallagher, of the same order, who was provided to Killaloe in 1570. Letters in Irish were written to the Munster MacDonnells, Hebridean gallowglasses serving in Desmond, whom Fitzmaurice exhorts to help him at once—‘first, inasmuch as we are fighting for our faith, and for the Church of God; and next, that we are defending our country, and extirpating heretics, barbarians, and unjust and lawless men; and besides that you were never employed by any lord who will pay you and your people their wages and bounty better than I shall, inasmuch as I never was at any time more competent to pay it than now.... We are on the side of truth and they on the side of falsehood; we are Catholic Christians, and they are heretics; justice is with us, and injustice with them.... All the bonaght men shall get their pay readily, and moreover we shall all obtain eternal wages from our Lord, from the loving Jesus, on account of fighting for his sake.... I was never more thankful to God for having great power and influence than now. Advise every one of your friends who likes fighting for his religion and his country better than for gold and silver, or who wishes to obtain them all, to come to me, and that he will find each of these things.’[18]

Fitzmaurice appeals to Desmond.

In the letter written by Sanders to Desmond in Fitzmaurice’s name, the Earl is reminded that the latter ‘warfareth under Christ’s banner, for the restoring of the Catholic faith in Ireland.’ Then, flying into the first person in his hurry, he says His Holiness ‘has made me general-captain of this Holy War.’ There are many allusions to Christ’s banner and to the ancient glories of the Geraldines, and the epistle ends with a recommendation to ‘your fellows, and to all my good cousins your children, and to my dear uncle your brother, longing to see all us, all one, first as in faith so in field, and afterwards in glory and life everlasting.’

A like appeal was made to the Earl of Kildare, and we may be sure that none of the Munster lords were forgotten. Friars were busy with O’Rourke, O’Donnell, and other northern chiefs, and the piratical O’Flaherties brought a flotilla of galleys, which might have their own way in the absence of men-of-war. Three of Fitzmaurice’s ships sailed away, and were expected soon to return with more help. Thomas Courtenay of Devonshire happened to be at Kinsale with an armed vessel, and was persuaded by his countryman Henry Davells, one of the Commissioners of Munster, to come round and seize the remaining Spanish ships. Courtenay seems not to have been in the Queen’s service; like so many other men of Devon, he was probably half-pirate and half-patriot. To cut out the undefended vessels from their anchorage was an easy and congenial task, and thus, to quote another Devonian, ‘James Fitzmaurice and his company lost a piece of the Pope’s blessing, for they were altogether destituted of any ship to ease and relieve themselves by the seas, what need soever should happen.’ The O’Flaherties sailed away with the two bishops on Courtenay’s arrival, but Maltby afterwards found their lair upon the shores of Clew Bay. One was promptly hanged by martial law; a second, who had property to confiscate, was reserved for the sessions, and a third was killed for resisting his captors; the rest were to be hanged when caught. Fitzmaurice had with him at Smerwick but twenty-five Spaniards, six Frenchmen, and six Englishmen, besides twenty-seven English prisoners whom he forced to work at the entrenchments. Provisions were scarce, and the whole enterprise might have collapsed had it not been for a crime which committed the Desmonds irretrievably.[19]

Murder of Davells and Carter.

On hearing of the landing in Kerry Drury had despatched a trusty messenger to confirm the Earl and his brother in their allegiance. The person selected was Henry Davells, a Devonshire gentleman who had served Henry VIII. in France, had afterwards seen fighting in Scotland, and had long lived in Carlow and Wexford, where he was well known and much respected. His countryman Hooker, who knew him, says he was not only the friend of every Englishman in Ireland, but also much esteemed by the Irish for his hospitality and true dealing. ‘If any of them had spoken the word, which was assuredly looked to be performed, they would say Davells hath said it, as who saith “it shall be performed.” For the nature of the Irishman is, that albeit he keepeth faith, for the most part, with nobody, yet will he have no man to break with him.’ The same writer assures us that the mere fact of being Davells’ man would secure any Englishman a free passage and hospitable reception throughout Munster and Leinster. He was equally valued by Desmond and Ormonde, an intimate friend of Sir Edmund Butler, and on such terms with Sir John of Desmond, whose gossip he was and whom he had several times redeemed out of prison, that the latter used to call him father. Davells now went straight to Kerry, saw the Earl and his brothers, whom he exhorted to stand firm, and visited Smerwick, which he found in no condition to withstand a resolute attack. Returning to the Desmonds he begged for a company of gallowglasses and sixty musketeers, with whom and with the aid of Captain Courtenay, he undertook to master the unfinished fort. Desmond refused, saying that his musketeers were more fitted to shoot at fowls than at a strong place, and that gallowglasses were good against gallowglasses, but no match for old soldiers. English officers afterwards reported that sixty resolute men might have taken Smerwick, and were thus confirmed in their belief that Desmond had intended rebellion from the first, and that Fitzmaurice, whose ability was undeniable, would not have taken up such a weak position without being sure of the Earl’s co-operation. But religious zeal might account for that.

Davells, who was accompanied by Arthur Carter, Provost Marshal of Munster, and a few men, started on his return journey, prepared no doubt to tell Drury that nothing was to be expected of the Desmonds. John of Desmond, accompanied by his brother James and a strong party, followed to Tralee, surrounded the tavern where the English officers lay, and bribed the porter to open the door. Davells and Carter were so unsuspicious that they had gone to bed, and allowed their servant to lodge in the town. When Davells saw Sir John entering his room with a drawn sword he called out, ‘What, son! what is the matter?’ ‘No more son, nor no more father,’ said the other, ‘but make thyself ready, for die thou shalt.’ A faithful page cast himself upon his master’s body; but he was thrust aside and Sir John himself despatched Davells.

Carter was also killed, and so were the servants. In a curious print the two Englishmen are represented as sleeping in the same bed. Sir John holds back the servant with his left hand and transfixes Davells with the right, while Sir James goes round, with a sword drawn, to Carter’s side. Outside stand several squads of the Desmond gallowglasses, and armed men are killing Davells’ followers, while Sanders appears in two places, carrying the consecrated papal banner, hounding on the murderers, and congratulating the brothers on their prowess. According to all the English accounts Sanders commended the murder as a sweet sacrifice in the sight of God, and two Irish Catholic historians mention it. But Fitzmaurice was a soldier, and disapproved of killing men in their beds. There is no positive evidence as to Desmond. Geraldine partisans say he abhorred the deed, but he never punished anyone for it, and Sir James was said to have pleaded that he was merely the Earl’s ‘executioner.’ Desmond accepted a silver-gilt basin and ewer, and a gold chain only a few days after the murder.[20]

Fitzmaurice and John of Desmond.

‘Landed gentlemen,’ says Sidney Smith, ‘have molar teeth, and are destitute of the carnivorous and incisive jaws of political adventurers.’ The Munster proprietors held aloof with the Earl of Desmond, ‘letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,”’ while the landless men followed his bolder and more unscrupulous brother. When Fitzmaurice disembarked, Desmond had 1,200 men with him; shortly after the murder of Davells he had less than 60; but Sir John was soon at the head of a large force. The activity of Maltby not only prevented any rising in Connaught, but also made it impossible for Scots to enter Munster. He lay at Limerick waiting till Drury was ready, and when the latter, who was ill, came to Limerick at the risk of his life, it was Maltby who entered the woods and drove the rebels from place to place. For a time Fitzmaurice and his cousin kept together, though it may be that the latter’s savagery was disagreeable to the man who had seen foreign courts, and who was evidently sincerely religious, though the English accused him of hypocrisy. According to Russell, who gives details which are wanting elsewhere, the two marched together unopposed into the county of Limerick, where one of Sir John’s men outraged a camp-follower. Fitzmaurice ordered him for execution, but Sir John, ‘little regarding the Pope’s commission, and not respecting murder or rape,’ refused to allow this, and Fitzmaurice, seeing that he could not maintain discipline, departed with a few horsemen and kernes, nominally on a pilgrimage to Holy Cross Abbey, really perhaps to enter Connaught through Tipperary and Limerick, and thus get into Maltby’s rear. In doing so he had to pass through the territory of a sept of Burkes, of whom some had been with him in his former enterprise. Fitzmaurice was in want of draught animals, and took two horses out of the plough. The poor peasants raised an alarm, and at a ford some miles south of Castle Connell the chief’s son Theobald, who was learned in the English language and law, and who may have had Protestant leanings, appeared with a strong party. He was already on the look-out, and had summoned MacBrien to his aid.

Death of Fitzmaurice.

Fitzmaurice urged Burke to join the Catholic enterprise; he answered that he would be loyal to the Queen, and a fight followed. Burke had but two musketeers with him, one of whom aimed at Fitzmaurice, who was easily known by his yellow doublet. The ball penetrated his chest, and feeling himself mortally wounded, he made a desperate dash forward, killed Theobald Burke and one of his brothers, and then fell, with or without a second wound. ‘He found,’ says Hooker characteristically, ‘that the Pope’s blessings and warrants, his agnus Dei and his grains, had not those virtues to save him as an Irish staff, or a bullet, had to kill him.’ The Burkes returned after the death of their leader, and, having confessed to Dr. Allen, the best of the Geraldines breathed his last. Lest the knowledge of his death should prove fatal to his cause, a kinsman cut off Fitzmaurice’s head and left the bare trunk under an oak—an evidence of haste which shows that there was no great victory to boast of. The body was nevertheless recognised, carried to Kilmallock, and hanged on a gibbet; and the soldiers barbarously amused themselves by shooting at their dead enemy. ‘Well,’ says Russell, ‘there was no remedy—God’s will must be done, punishing the sins of the father in the death of the son. Fitzmaurice made a goodly end of his life (only that he bore arms against his sovereign princess, the Queen of England). His death was the beginning of the decay of the honourable house of Desmond, out of which never issued so brave a man in all perfection, both for qualities of the mind and body, besides the league between him and others for the defence of religion.’[21]

To face page 24.

London: Longmans & Co.

Edw^d. Weller, lith.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Strype’s Annals, Eliz. lib. i. ch. i. and ii. i. Walsingham to Cecil, February 25, 1571, and Burghley to Walsingham, June 5, both in Digges’s Complete Ambassador. Lady Northumberland to Stukeley, June 21, 1571, in Wright’s Elizabeth. Answers of Martin de Guerres, master mariner, February 12, 1572; Examination of Walter French, March 30; report of John Crofton, April 13.

[2] Stukeley to Mistress Julian (from Rome) October 24, 1575, in Wright’s Elizabeth, Motley’s Dutch Republic, part v. ch. v.; Strype’s Annals, Eliz. book ii. ch. viii.; Wilson to Burghley and Walsingham, February 19, 1577, and to the Queen, May 1, both in the Calendar of S. P. Foreign; Henry Cheek to Burghley, March 29, 1577; Strype’s Life of Sir John Cheek. Stukeley left Don John at the end of February, 1577.

[3] Intelligence received by Drury, February 19, 1577, and April 16; Examination of Edmund MacGawran and others May 10; Paulet to Wilson, August, 1577, in Murdin’s State Papers.

[4] Edmundus Tanner Patri Generali Everardo, October 11, 1577, in Hogan’s Hibernia Ignatiana.

[5] Sanders to Allen, Nov. 6, 1577 (from Madrid) in Cardinal Allen’s Memorials; James Fitzmaurice’s instruction and advice (now among the undated papers of 1578) written in Latin and signed ‘spes nostra Jesus et Maria, Jacobus Geraldinus Desmoniæ.’

[6] This passport, given at Cadiz in April, 1578, ‘by command of his Excellency,’ is in Sidney Papers, i. 263. O’Sullivan’s Hist. Cath. lib. iv. cap. xv. O’Daly’s Geraldines, ch. xx. Strype’s Annals, Eliz. book ii. ch. xiii.

[7] Letter signed by ‘Donatus Episcopus Aladensis,’ David Wolf the Jesuit, and two other Irish priests, printed from the Vatican archives in Brady’s Episcopal Succession, ii. p. 174. Edmund Hogan to Queen Elizabeth (from Morocco) June 11, 1577; Dr. Wilson to——, June 14, 1578, in Wright’s Elizabeth.

[8] Drury to Walsingham, Jan. 6 and 12, 1579; to Burghley, Sept. 21, 1578; Drury and Fitton to Burghley, Oct. 10, 1578; Fitton to Burghley, Feb. 22, 1579. Note of services &c., town of Knockfergus in Carew, ii. p. 148.

[9] Drury to Walsingham, Jan. 6, 1579 (enclosing an O’Neill pedigree); to Burghley, Jan. 6 and Feb. 11, 1579; to the Privy Council, March 14; Fitton to Burghley, Feb. 12, 1579.

[10] Patrick Lumbarde to his wife (from Lisbon) Feb. 20, 1579; Nic. Walshe to Drury, Feb. 27; Declaration of James Fagan and Leonard Sutton, March 23; Drury to Walsingham, March 6; Desmond to Drury, April 20; Examination of Dominick Creagh, April 22, and of Thomas Monvell of Kinsale, mariner, April 30.

[11] July 17, 1579. Examination (at Waterford) of John Picot of Jersey, master, and Fr. Gyrard, of St. Malo, pilot, July 24; Lord Justice and Council to the Privy Council, July 22; Sir Owen O’Sullivan to Mayor of Cork, July 16; Portreeve of Dingle to Earl of Desmond, July 17. The story of the Bristol crew is told in Mr. Froude’s 27th chapter, ‘from a Simancas MS.’

[12] Lord Justice and Council to the Privy Council with enclosure, July 22, 1579; Waterhouse to Walsingham, July 23 and 26; Mayor of Waterford to Drury, July 25.

[13] James Golde to the Mayor of Limerick, July 22, 1579.

[14] Desmond, abp. of Cashel (Magrath), and Wm. Apsley to Drury, July 20, 1579; Waterhouse to Walsingham, July 23 and 24; Commission to Sir H. Gilbert, July 24; James Golde to the Mayor of Limerick, July 22.

[15] The signature is ‘In omni tribulatione spes mea Jesus et Maria, James Geraldyne.’

[16] These two declarations are at Lambeth. In the Carew Calendar, they are wrongly placed under 1569, when Pius V. was still alive. They are printed in full in the Irish (Kilkenny) Archæological Journal, N.S. ii. 364.

[17] Desmond to Drury, July 19, 1579; Russell. The letter from Desmond’s servant, William of Danubi, to Fitzmaurice, calendared under July 1579 (No. 37) certainly belongs to the end of 1577, just after Rory Oge had burned Naas.

[18] James Fitzmaurice to Alexander, Ustun, and Randal MacDonnell, July, 1579; these letters, with translation, were printed by O’Donovan in Irish (Kilkenny) Archæological Journal, N.S. ii. 362; Strype’s Parker, lib. iv. cap. 15, and the appendix; Sanders to Ulick Burke in Carew, Oct. 27, 1579. In Cardinal Allen’s Memorials is a letter dated April 5, 1579, in which Allen calls Sanders his ‘special friend.’

[19] Fitzmaurice to Desmond and Kildare, July 18, 1579; Waterhouse to Walsingham, July 24; notes of Mr. Herbert’s speech, Aug. 3; Maltby’s discourse April 8, 1580; Hooker in Holinshed.

[20] Hooker and Camden for the English view of Desmond’s conduct; Russell and O’Daly for the other side, and also O’Sullivan, ii. iv. 15. The picture is reproduced in the Irish (Kilkenny) Archæological Journal, 3rd S. i. 483. In his 27th chapter Mr. Froude quotes Mendoza to the effect that Davells was Desmond’s guest; but Hooker says distinctly that he ‘lodged in one Rice’s house, who kept a victualling-house and wine tavern.’ In a letter of Oct. 10, 1579, Desmond says his brother James was ‘enticed into the detestable act.’ E. Fenton to Walsingham, July 11, 1580; Lord Justice and Earl of Kildare to the Privy Council, Aug. 3, 1579. Examination of Friar James O’Hea in Carew, Aug. 17, 1580. Collection of matters to Nov. 1579.

[21] Irish Archæological Journal, 3rd S. i. 384; Four Masters; Camden; Hooker; O’Sullivan, ii. iv. 94. Waterhouse to Walsingham, Aug. 3 and 9, 1579. Fitzmaurice fell shortly before Aug. 20. O’Sullivan calls the place Beal Antha an Bhorin, which may be Barrington’s bridge or Boher. This writer, who loves the marvellous, says a Geraldine named Gibbon Duff, was tended among the bushes by a friendly leech, who bound up his eighteen wounds. A wolf came out of the wood and devoured the dirty bandages, but without touching the helpless man. The Four Masters, who wrote under Charles I., praise Theobald Burke and regret his death.

[CHAPTER XXXVII.]

THE DESMOND REBELLION, 1579-1580.

Vacillating policy of England.

Sir John of Desmond at once assumed the vacant command, and Drury warned the English Government that he was no contemptible enemy, though he had not Fitzmaurice’s power of exciting religious enthusiasm, and had yet to show that he had like skill in protracting a war. The Munster Lords were generally unsound, the means were wanting to withstand any fresh supply of foreigners, and there could be no safety till every spark of rebellion was extinguished. The changes of purpose at Court were indeed more than usually frequent and capricious. English statesmen, who were well informed about foreign intrigues, were always inclined to despise the diversion which Pope or Spaniard might attempt in Ireland; and the Netherlands were very expensive. Moreover, the Queen was amusing herself with Monsieur Simier. Walsingham, however, got leave to send some soldiers to Ireland, and provisions were ordered to be collected at Bristol and Barnstaple. Then came the news that Fitzmaurice had not above 200 or 300 men, and the shipping of stores was countermanded. On the arrival of letters from Ireland, the danger was seen to be greater, and Walsingham was constrained to acknowledge that foreign potentates were concerned, ‘notwithstanding our entertainment of marriage.’ One thousand men were ordered to be instantly raised in Wales, 300 to be got ready at Berwick, extraordinary posts were laid to Holyhead, Tavistock, and Bristol. Money and provisions were promised. Sir John Perrott received a commission, as admiral, to cruise off Ireland with five ships and 1,950 men, and to go against the Scilly pirates when he had nothing better to do. Then Fitzmaurice’s death was announced, and again the spirit of parsimony prevailed. The soldiers, who were actually on board, were ordered to disembark. These poor wretches, the paupers and vagrants of Somersetshire, and as such selected by the justices, had been more than a fortnight at Bristol, living on bare rations at sixpence a day, and Wallop with great difficulty procured an allowance of a halfpenny a mile to get them home. The troops despatched from Barnstaple were intercepted at Ilfracombe, and all the provisions collected were ordered to be dispersed. Then again the mood changed, and the Devonshire men were allowed to go.[22]

The Munster people sympathise with the rebellion.

Death of Drury, who is succeeded by Sir William Pelham.

The Earl of Kildare, who was probably anxious to avoid fresh suspicion, gave active help to the Irish government, ‘making,’ as Waterhouse testified, ‘no shew to pity names or kindred.’ He exerted his influence with the gentry of the Pale to provide for victualling the army, and he accompanied the Lord Justice in person on his journey to Munster. The Queen wrote him a special letter of thanks, and Drury declared that he found him constant and resolute to spend his life in the quarrel. The means at the Lord Justice’s disposal were scanty enough:—400 foot, of which some were in garrison, and 200 horse. He himself was extremely ill, but struggled on from Limerick to Cork, and from Cork to Kilmallock, finding little help and much sullen opposition; but the arrival of Perrott, with four ships, at Baltimore seemed security enough against foreign reinforcements to the rebels, and Maltby prevented John of Desmond from communicating with Connaught. Sanders contrived to send letters, but one received by Ulick Burke was forwarded, after some delay, to the government, and Desmond still wavered, though the Doctor tried to persuade him that Fitzmaurice’s death was a provision of God for his fame. ‘That devilish traitor Sanders,’ wrote Chancellor Gerrard, ‘I hear—by examination of some persons who were in the forts with him and heard his four or five masses a day—that he persuaded all men that it is lawful to kill any English Protestants, and that he hath authority to warrant all such from the Pope, and absolution to all who can so draw blood; and how deeply this is rooted in the traitors’ hearts may appear by John of Desmond’s cruelty, hanging poor men of Chester, the best pilots in these parts, taken by James, and in hold with John, whom he so executed maintenant upon the understanding of James his death.’ No one, for love or money, would arrest Sanders, and Drury could only hope that the soldiers might take him by chance, or that ‘some false brother’ might betray him. Desmond came to the camp at Kilmallock, but would not, or could not, do any service. Drury had him arrested on suspicion, and, according to English accounts, he made great professions of loyalty before he was liberated. The Irish annalists say his professions were voluntary, that he was promised immunity for his territory in return, and that the bargain was broken by the English. Between the two versions it is impossible to decide. The Earl did accompany Drury on an expedition intended to drive John of Desmond out of the great wood on the borders of Cork and Limerick. At the place now called Springfield, the English were worsted in a chance encounter, their Connaught allies running away rather than fight against the Geraldines. In this inglorious fray fell two tried old captains and a lieutenant, who had fought in the Netherlands, and the total loss was considerable. Drury’s health broke down after this, and instead of scouring Aherlow Woods the stout old soldier was carried in a litter to his deathbed at Waterford. As he passed through Tipperary, Lady Desmond came to him and gave up her only son as a hostage—an unfortunate child who was destined to be the victim of state policy.

Sir William Pelham, another Suffolk man, had just arrived in Dublin, and was busy organising the defence of the Pale against possible inroads by the O’Neills. He was at once chosen Lord Justice of the Council, and the Queen confirmed their choice.

Drury was an able and honest, though severe governor, and deserves well of posterity for taking steps to preserve the records in Birmingham Tower. Sanders gave out that his death was a judgment for fighting against the Pope, forgetting that Protestants might use like reasoning about Fitzmaurice.[23]

Desmond still hesitates.

Maltby was temporary Governor of Munster by virtue of Drury’s commission, and had about 150 horse and 900 foot, the latter consisting, in great measure, of recruits from Devonshire. He summoned Desmond to meet him at Limerick, and sent him a proclamation to publish against the rebels. The Earl would not come, and desired that freeholders and others attending him might be excepted from the proclamation. Maltby, who had won a battle in the meantime, then required him to give up Sanders, ‘that papistical arrogant traitor, that deceiveth the people with false lies,’ or to lodge him so that he might be surprised. Upon this the Earl merely marvelled that Maltby should spoil his poor tenants. ‘I wish to your lordship as well as you wish to me,’ was the Englishman’s retort, ’and for my being here, if it please your Lordship to come to me you shall know the cause.’ It did not please him, and the governor made no further attempt at conciliation.[24]

Maltby defeats the rebels.

The encounter which gave Maltby such confidence in negotiation took place on October 3 at Monasternenagh, an ancient Cistercian abbey on the Maigue. The ground was flat, and Sir William Stanley, the future traitor of Deventer, said the rebels came on as resolutely as the best soldiers in Europe. Sir John and Sir James of Desmond had over 2,000 men, of which 1,200 were choice gallowglasses, and Maltby had about 1,000. Desmond visited his brothers in the early morning, gave them his blessing, and then withdrew to Askeaton, leaving his men behind.

‘He is now,’ said Maltby, ‘so far in, that if her Majesty will take advantage of his doings his forfeited living will countervail her Highness’s charges; and Stanley remarked that the Queen might make instead of losing money by the rebellion. After a sharp fight, the Geraldines were worsted, and the Sheehy gallowglasses, which were Desmond’s chief strength, lost very heavily. The two brothers escaped by the speed of their horses and bore off the consecrated banner, ‘which I believe,’ said Maltby, ‘was anew scratched about the face, for they carried it through the woods and thorns in post haste.’ Sanders, if he was present, escaped, but his fellow-Jesuit, Allen, was killed. In a highly rhetorical passage Hooker describes this enthusiast’s proceedings, and likens his fall to that of the prophets of Baal. Maltby’s commission died with Drury, and he stood on the defensive as soon as he heard of the event.[25]

Desmond and Ormonde.

Ormonde had been about three years in England, looking after his own interests, and binding himself more closely to the party of whom Sussex was the head. Disturbance in Munster of course demanded his presence, and he prepared to start soon after the landing of James Fitzmaurice. ‘I pray you,’ he wrote to Walsingham, ‘do more in this my cause than you do for yourself, or else the world will go hard.’

Desmond is forced to say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’

In thanking the Secretary for his good offices he said, ‘I am ready to serve the Queen with my wonted good-will. I hope she will not forget my honour in place of service, though she be careless of my commodity.’ A month later he was in Ireland, and after spending some days at Kilkenny, was present at the delivery of the sword to Pelham, whom he prepared to accompany to the south. He had the Queen’s commission as general in Munster, and Kildare was left to guard the Ulster border. Little knowing the man he had to deal with, Desmond wrote to bid him weigh his cause as his own. ‘Maltby,’ he said, ‘is a knave that hath no authority, who has been always an enemy to mine house.’ To some person at Court, perhaps to Sidney, he recounted his services. Before the landing of Fitzmaurice he had executed three scholars, of which one was known to be a bishop. He had at once given notice of the landing, had blockaded Smerwick, and had helped to drive off the O’Flaherties, so that the traitors had like to starve. After Fitzmaurice’s death he had broken down the fort and had been ready to victual Drury’s army, had not the latter prepared to support his men by spoiling the Desmond tenants. Finally, he had delivered his son, and would have done more, but that many of his men had deserted while he was under arrest. All along he had feared the fate of Davells for his wife and son, knowing that his brother John hated them mortally. Maltby had none the less treated him as an enemy, and had in particular ‘most maliciously defaced the old monument of my ancestors, fired both the abbey, the whole town, and all the corn thereabouts, and ceased not to shoot at my men within Askeaton Castle.’ The letters which Ormonde received from Desmond—for there seem to have been more than one—were handed over to Pelham, who directed the writer to meet him between Cashel and Limerick, or at least at the latter place. He was to lose no time, for the Lord Justice was determined not to lie idle. Desmond did not come, but he had an interview with Ormonde for the discussion of certain articles dictated by Pelham. The principal were that Desmond should surrender Sanders and other strangers, give up Carrigafoyle or Askeaton, repair to the Lord Justice, and prosecute his rebellious brother to the uttermost. The penalty for refusing these terms was that he should be proclaimed traitor. After conferring with Ormonde, he wrote to say that he had been arrested when he went to the late Lord Justice. He refused to give up Askeaton, perhaps thinking it impregnable, but was ready to do his best against Sanders and his unnatural brethren if his other castles were restored to him. Pelham answered that the proclamation was ready and should be published in three days, unless Desmond came sooner to his senses. Still protesting his loyalty, he refused to make any further concession. A last chance was given him; if he would repair to Pelham’s presence by eight next morning he should have licence to go to England. No answer was returned, and the proclamation was published as Pelham had promised. By a singular coincidence, and as if to presage the ruin of the house of Desmond, a great piece of the wall of Youghal fell of itself upon the same day. The die was cast, and the fate of the Geraldine power was sealed.[26]

Desmond is proclaimed traitor. November, 1579.

The proclamation asserted that Desmond had practised with foreign princes, that he had suffered Fitzmaurice and his Spaniards to lurk in his country, and that he had been privy to the murder of Davells and others. He was accused of feigning loyalty and of purposely allowing the garrison to escape from their untenable post at Smerwick. It was said that he had gone from the Lord Justice into Kerry against express orders, had seen that the strangers were well treated—being, in fact, in his pay—and had even placed some of them in charge of castles. He had joined himself openly with the proclaimed traitors his brothers, and with Dr. Sanders, that odious, unnatural, and pestiferous traitor; and quite lately his household servants had been engaged with the Queen’s troops at Rathkeale. Perhaps the strongest piece of evidence was a paper found in a portmanteau belonging to Dr. Allen, ‘one of the traitors lately slain,’ which showed how the artillery found at Smerwick had been distributed by Desmond among the rebels. To detach waverers it was announced that all who appeared unconditionally before the Lord Justice or the Earl of Ormonde should be received as liege subjects. Besides Pelham, Waterhouse, Maltby, and Patrick Dobbyn, Mayor of Waterford, the subscribers to the proclamation were all Butlers; Ormonde and his three brothers, Lords Mountgarret and Dunboyne, and Sir Theobald Butler of Cahir. Some of these had been rebels, but all were now united to overwhelm the Geraldines and possibly to win their lands. ‘There was,’ said Waterhouse, ‘great practice that the Earl of Ormonde should have dealt for a pacification, but when it came to the touch he dealt soundly—and will, I think, follow the prosecution with as much earnestness as any to whom it might have been committed.’ He was, in fact, enough of an Irishman to wish that even Desmond might have a last chance; but when it came to choosing between loyalty and rebellion his choice was as quickly made as his father’s had been when he resisted the blandishments of Silken Thomas.[27]

Weakness of the Government.

The Queen grumbles.

Finding himself in no condition to attack so strong a place as Askeaton, Pelham returned to Dublin, and Ormonde went to Waterford to prepare for a western campaign. He wrote to tell Walsingham of his vast expenses. His own company of 100 men was so well horsed and armed that none could gainsay it; but the ships were unvictualled, and Youghal and Kinsale were doubtfully loyal. ‘I have the name of 800 footmen left in all my charge, and they be not 600 able men, as Mr. Fenton can tell, for I caused my Lord Justice to take view of them. They be sickly, unapparelled, and almost utterly unvictualled. There are 150 horsemen with me that be not 100.... My allowance is such as I am ashamed to write of.... I long to be in service among the traitors, who hope for foreign power.’ But the Queen was very loth to spend money, and very angry at the imperfect intelligence from Ireland. The number of Spaniards who landed was never known. There were certainly more in the country than Fitzmaurice had at Smerwick; and the number of harbours between Kinsale and Tralee was most convenient for contraband cargoes. Her Majesty also grumbled about Pelham’s new knights, lest they should be emboldened to ‘crave support to maintain their degree.’ There were but two, Gerrard the Chancellor, and Vice-Treasurer Fitton; both had served long and well, and it was customary for every new governor to confer some honours. Peremptory orders were sent that the pension list should be cut down, and the Queen even talked of reducing the scanty garrison. She was offended at the proclamation of Desmond, as she had been five years before, and found fault with everything and everybody. Pelham said the proclamation was an absolute necessity, since no person of any consideration in Munster would stir a finger until ‘assured by this public act that your Majesty will deal thoroughly for his extirpation.’ Before the proclamation, at the time of the fight with Maltby, Desmond had guarded the Pope’s ensign with all his own servants, and ‘in all his skirmishes and outrages since the proclamation crieth Papa Aboo, which is the Pope above, even above you and your imperial crown.’ In despair the Lord Justice begged to be recalled, but Ormonde, who knew Elizabeth’s humour, made up his mind to do what he could with small means. At this juncture, and as if to show that he had not been proclaimed for nothing, Desmond committed an outrage which for ever deprived him of all hope of pardon.[28]

Desmond threatens Youghal.

Sack of Youghal

The town of Youghal, which had always been under the influence of his family, was at this time fervently Catholic. The Jesuits kept a school there, and the townsmen had been ‘daily instructed in Christian doctrine, in the celebration of the Sacrament, and in good morals, as far as the time permitted, but not without hindrance.’ The corporation were uneasy, and sent two messengers, of which one was a priest, to fetch powder from Cork. Sir Warham St. Leger, who had been acting as Provost Marshal of Munster since Carter’s death, gave the powder or sent it, and offered to send one of Sir Humphrey Gilbert’s well-armed ships to protect the town, which the fallen wall laid open to attack. But the corporation refused to incur the expense of supporting Gilbert’s sailors or Ormonde’s soldiers, and made little or no preparation for their own defence. On Friday, November 13, Desmond, accompanied by the Seneschal of Imokilly, encamped on the south side of Youghal, near the Franciscan priory, which his own ancestors had founded. He gave out that his intentions were harmless, and that he had come only to send messengers to Ormonde, who could prove that he had been wrongfully proclaimed traitor. Meanwhile, he demanded wine for his men, and the mayor, who was either a fool or a traitor, let him take the ferry-boat, which was the only means by which the town might be relieved from the Waterford side. The Geraldines were to take two tuns of wine, and then depart; but during Saturday and Sunday morning they had frequent conversations with their friends on the walls. The result was that they mustered with evidently hostile intentions, and that the mayor ordered the gunners in the round tower, which commanded the landing-place, not to fire first, although they had a ‘saker charged with a round shot, a square shot, and a handspike of an ell long, wherewith they were like to have spoiled many of them. One elderly man of the town commanded not to shoot off lest the rebels would be angry therewith, and threatened to kill the gunner if he would give fire.’ Other sympathisers had already carried out ladders and hung ropes over the walls. With such help the rebels easily entered the breach, and in an hour all was over. Wives and maidens were ravished, and the town was ruthlessly sacked. Many of the inhabitants helped the work, ‘notwithstanding that they saw the ravishing of their women, the spoiling of their goods and burning of their houses, and that (which is most detestable treason), notwithstanding that they saw the Earl and Sir John, the Seneschal of Imokilly, and divers others draw down in the court-house of the town her Majesty’s arms, and most despitefully with their daggers to cut it and thrust it through.’ ‘This they did,’ Ormonde added, ‘as an argument of their cankered and alienated hearts.’ The plunder was considerable, and the Four Masters sympathetically record that many a poor indigent person became rich and affluent by the spoils of this town. Some of Lord Barry’s men were present, and most of the plunder was carried into his country and sold there. As one of Desmond’s followers filled his pouch with gold and silver from a broken chest, he said to his master that the thing was very pleasant if not a dream. Dermot O’Sullivan, the historian’s father, stood by and warned the Earl that the sweetest dreams might be but a mockery. The houses and gates were burned, and when Ormonde came a few weeks later he found the ruins in sole possession of a friar, who was spared for his humanity in securing Christian burial to Henry Davells. The mayor was caught and hanged at his own door, and it is hard to say that he did not deserve it.[29]

Ormonde’s revenge.

The garrisons.

A fortnight after the sack of Youghal, Ormonde was in the field, and thus describes the nature of his three weeks’ campaign: ‘I was in Connello the 6th of this month, between Askeaton and Newcastle, two of the Earl’s chief houses, and preyed, spoiled, and burned the country, even to the mountain of Slieve Logher, and returned to Adare without sight of the rebels. In the county of Cork I burned John of Desmond’s town and castle called Lisfinnen, with all his land in Coshbride.’ He then returned to Tipperary, and let his officers go to Dublin for a holiday. The soldiers had had bread only for one day out of four, and neither wine, beer, nor spirits. Beef and forage were scarce, and they had passed rivers, wading to the stomach, often seven times a day, and never less than three. They had to bivouack in the open, and camp-fires were hard to light in December. ‘It is easier,’ said Wallop, ‘to talk at home of Irish wars than to be in them.’ The garrisons had not a very pleasant time of it either. Sir George Bourchier was at Kilmallock with 200 men whose pay was two months in arrear. He had but fifty pounds of powder, and was unable to join Ormonde, for the chief magistrate locked the gates, and the inhabitants declared that they would vacate the town if he deserted them. Desmond was expected daily, and the fate of Youghal was before their eyes. Sir William Stanley and George Carew had been left by Maltby at Adare. Between them and Askeaton lay Kerry, which Sanders, in the Pope’s name, had granted to Sir James of Desmond. One morning early Stanley and Carew passed 120 of their men over the Maigue in one of the small boats, then and now called cots, which scarcely held ten at a time. After spoiling the country and putting to the sword whomsoever they thought good, they were attacked by Sir James, the knight of Glin, and the Spaniards who garrisoned Balliloghan Castle. Though the enemy were nearly four to one, Stanley and Carew managed to keep them in check till they reached the river, and then passed all their men over without loss, they themselves being the last to cross. It may be supposed, though Hooker does not say so, that they were in some measure covered by the guns of the castle. A little later Desmond tried to lure the garrison out by driving cattle under their walls, failing which ‘he sent a fair young harlot as a present to the constable, by whose means he hoped to get the house; but the constable, learning from whence she came, threw her (as is reported to me), with a stone about her neck, into the river.’[30]

Rumours from abroad.

Ormonde’s troubles.

The English Government urged Pelham to go to Munster himself, and he waited for provisions at Waterford. Reports of the rebels’ successes came to England constantly from Paris, for the war had become a religious one. By every ship sailing to France or Spain, ‘Sanders,’ said Burghley, ‘sent false libels of the strength of his partners, and of the weakness of the Queen’s part.’ He spread rumours through Ireland that a great fleet was coming from Spain and Italy, bringing infinite stores of wine, corn, rice, and oil from the Pope and King Philip. Munster was to be Desmond’s; Ulster Tirlogh Luineach’s, and a nuncio was soon to come with full powers. It was reported that Desmond and Sanders distrusted each other, and that the latter was watched lest he should try to escape. His credit was probably restored by the arrival of two Spanish frigates at Dingle. It had been reported in Spain that both Desmond and Sanders were killed, but after conferring with the doctor, and learning that the rebellion was not yet crushed, the strangers promised help before the end of May. Sanders pleaded hard for St. Patrick’s day, lamenting that he had been made ‘an instrument to promise to perfect Christians what should not be performed.’ Still, through the spring and summer he confidently declared that help was coming, and in the meantime both he and Desmond were hunted like partridges upon the mountains. Pelham begged the Queen to consider what her position would have been had a stronger force landed with James Fitzmaurice, and to harden her heart to spend the necessary money. Ormonde was still more outspoken, and we know from others that his complaints were well founded. ‘I required,’ he said, ‘to be victualled, that I might bestow the captains and soldiers under my leading in such places as I knew to be fitted for the service, and most among the rebels. I was answered there was none. I required the ordnance for batteries many times and could have none, nor cannot as yet, for my Lord Justice sayeth to me, it is not in the land. Money I required for the army to supply necessary wants, and could have but 200l., a bare proportion for to leave with an army. Now what any man can do with these wants I leave to your judgment. I hear the Queen mislikes that her service has gone no faster forward, but she suffereth all things needful to be supplied, to want. I would to God I could feed soldiers with the air, and throw down castles with my breath, and furnish naked men with a wish, and if these things might be done the service should on as fast as her Highness would have it. This is the second time that I have been suffered to want all these things, having the like charge that now I have, but there shall not be a third; for I protest I will sooner be committed as a prisoner by the heels than to be thus dealt with again; taking charge of service upon me. I am also beholding to some small friends that make (as I understand) the Queen mislike of me for the spoil of Youghal, who most traitorously have played the villains, as by their own examination appeareth, an abstract of which I send to the Council, with letters written by the Earl of Desmond and his brethren to procure rebellion. There be here can write lies, as in writing Kilkenny was burned, before which, though it be a poor weak town, the rebels never came. They bragged they would spoil my country, but I hope if they do they will pay better for it than I did at the burning of theirs.’[31]

Burghley and Walsingham persuade the Queen.

Burghley and Walsingham strove hard to persuade the Queen that her economy would save nothing in the end, and Pelham’s wise obedience in discharging some pensioners conciliated her a little. But he told the ministers that there had been no such peril in Ireland since the conquest, and Burghley agreed that the fire could only be quenched by English power. The conflagration would be great if not checked before the spring, for the Pope stood ever ready to supply Spanish coals, and the barbarous people ever willing to receive them. But even Burghley thought some one was to blame for proclaiming Desmond before there were means to punish him. The Queen, he told Ormonde, had yielded at last; ‘money is sent, munition is in lading, and so is victualling for 2,000 men for three months, and for men to serve it is certain there are more in charge of the Queen’s pay than ever there were in Ireland those hundreds of years, and for anything we hear no open hostilities in any part of Ireland but these in Munster, so as now merely I must say Butleraboo, against all that cry as I hear in a new language Papeaboo. God send you only your heart’s desire, which I know is agreeable to mine, to banish or vanquish those cankered Desmonds and their sequels, and to plant again the Queen’s Majesty’s honour and reputation.... I and others have persuaded her Majesty that you may have authority to reclaim by offer of pardon all such as have offended, saving the Earl and his brothers, and such as murdered Davells, and such as have come from foreign parts to stir up the rebellion, among which I mean Sanders, that viper, whom of all others the Queen’s Majesty is most desirous that you could take hold of.[32]

Miseries of Irish service.

Ormonde sent Zouch and Stanley to garrison Youghal, who lost two or three men in passing the Blackwater at Lismore. The Spaniards set fire to Strancally Castle, where some of the plunder had been stored, and ran out at the first sound of the English drums. Some were shot or drowned, and the remainder crossed over to Decies in boats, ‘where they were very friendly welcomed in sight of the soldiers.’ Sir James Fitzgerald of Dromana was loyal, but his followers preferred Desmond.

Stanley and Zouch went on to Youghal, driving before them 140 cows and 300 sheep, with which they fed their men. The poor soldiers suffered dreadfully from rain and cold, for they were penniless, and unroofed houses gave but scant shelter. For horses there was no food. Nor was this misery peculiar to Munster, since Athlone required repair to the extent of 500l., Maryborough and Philipstown did not keep their defenders dry, and the wall in each case was ready to fall into the ditch. Leighlin and Dungarvan were almost untenable. Dublin Castle was much dilapidated, and the timber of Kilmallock was rotting. English artificers must be brought over to repair damages, ‘for lack of skill and desire to gain by the work had been the ruin of all.’ On the other hand there were signs of wavering among the rebels. A ship with 400 soldiers from the Pope was driven ashore at Corunna, and four-fifths of the men perished. Sanders was suspected of wishing to steal away, and Desmond had him carefully watched.[33]

Foreign sympathisers.

At this juncture one French and one Spanish vessel arrived in Dingle Bay with letters for Desmond and earnest inquiries for Dr. Sanders. They were well received by the country people, and the bearers of the letters were conducted to Castle Island, where they found the men they sought. The foreigners said it had been reported at the French and Spanish Courts that no Geraldine was left alive. Sanders ‘railed and reviled them’ for not performing their promises to perfect Christians; but they still maintained that 20,000 were ready in Spain to sail with James Fitzmaurice’s sons, and that France would also help as soon as the truth was known. One Owen O’Madden, a foster-brother of Desmond who was present, fell into Ormonde’s hands, and reported that Desmond and Clancare had solemnly sworn to join their forces; ‘which oath was ministered by Dr. Sanders, having a mass-book under their feet and a cloth spread over their heads.’ He believed that Lord Fitzmaurice would also join them. The confederacy would command a force of 600 gallowglasses, 1,600 kerne, and 80 horse, with 200 musketeers. Sympathy with the Geraldines was universal among the common people, but men who had something to lose were in no great hurry to commit themselves. ‘I suppose,’ said Pelham, ‘it is now considered that what foreign prince soever come, he will not allow to any freeholder more acres than he hath already, nor more free manner of life than they have under our Sovereign. And further I am told that some of the traitors themselves begin to consider that the invaders will put no great trust in those that do betray their natural prince and country.’[34]

The nature of Irish warfare.

Pelham left Waterford about the middle of February, having with great difficulty made such preparations as would give likelihood of a successful campaign. Unable to feed pack-horses he had his provisions carried by 300 strong countrymen, and he vigorously describes the pleasures of Irish warfare. ‘Touching the comparison between the soldier of Berwick and the soldier of Ireland, alleging him of Berwick to serve in greater toil... all the soldiers of Christendom must give place in that to the soldiers of Ireland; and so much difference for ease... as is between an alderman of London and a Berwick soldier.’ And surely, said Captain Zouch, ‘the wars here is most painful, in respect that of force we make great and long journeys without victual, by which means we have great sicknesses, and, do what we can, we shall never fight with them unless they have a will to fight with us.’ But a good spirit prevailed, and some companies stood so much on their reputation that they begged to be mustered, in order that their wants might be known and supplied.

Pelham and Ormonde’s campaign.

State of Kerry.

Ormonde joined the Lord Justice at Clonmel, where it was arranged that the Butlers should guard the eastern end of the Aherlow fastness. Pelham proposed to make all the country from Askeaton to Dingle ‘as bare a country as ever Spaniard set his foot in.’ At Limerick he spent more than a fortnight listening to reports of what was going on in Kerry and in Spain, and waiting for Wallop and Maltby. On March 10, he met Ormonde at Rathkeale, and each assumed his own share in the work of destruction. The Earl took the Shannon side, the Lord Justice kept inland, spoiling the country far and wide, and meeting with no enemy. Near Shanet Castle, the original seat of the Desmonds, from which their war-cry was derived, the two camps were not far apart, and the country was scoured to the foot of the mountain in which the Feale and the Blackwater take their rise. According to the Four Masters, they killed ‘blind and feeble men, women, boys and girls, sick persons, idiots, and old people.’ Four hundred were killed in the woods on the first day, and everything that would burn was burned. The next camp was at Glin, where provisions had been collected, and thither came Lord Fitzmaurice, who thought it time to declare himself on the side of the strongest. Pelham and Ormonde then determined to cross the mountain into Kerry, having heard that ships with stores had arrived at Dingle. Desmond had already gone that way, in the belief that the ships were Spanish. Passing the Feale a little above Listowel, the army marched unopposed to Tralee, and on the march Patrick Fitzmaurice, heir of the house of Lixnaw, followed his father’s example. Everything between Castle Island and Tralee was already destroyed by the rebels, and Tralee itself was burned, with the exception of the abbey. Three hundred men, under Sir William Stanley, were detached to Castlemaine, and Pelham and Ormonde started for Dingle, but were driven back by a furious snowstorm from the foot of the Corkaguiny mountains. In the meantime the ships had gone to the Shannon, and Pelham, having no means of feeding the men, was forced to withdraw Stanley’s division from Castlemaine. Clancare had promised to come to Tralee, but excused himself on account of the floods. The same reason prevented Pelham from recrossing the mountains, and he lost men and horses in fording the Feale near its mouth. The ships had arrived at Carrigafoyle, and immediate preparations were made to besiege the castle, which was held by nineteen Spaniards and fifty natives. The commandant was Captain Julian, ‘who reported himself to be a very notable engineer,’ and who had undertaken the defence at Lady Desmond’s request.

Siege of Carrigafoyle.

Fate of the garrison.

While the guns were being landed, Pelham went forward to view the place, and had a narrow escape from a shot. ‘The villains of Spaniards, and the traitors,’ said Ormonde, ‘railed like themselves at Her Majesty, especially the Spaniards, who had named the King of Spain King of Ireland, which, or it be long, God willing, they shall dearly pay for.’ Julian probably trusted in the strength of the castle, which was eighty-six feet high, surrounded by water, and defended by several outworks. On the land side there were two separate ditches, divided by a wall, and a strong earthwork. Vessels of 100 tons could go up to the wall at high tide. The pieces used in the attack were three cannons, one culver, and one culverin—not a formidable battery according to modern ideas, but too much for the old castle, even with Julian’s additional defences. The hyperbolical Four Masters say such guns had never yet been heard in those parts, and that their tremendous and terror-awakening roar penetrated every glen from Mizen Head to Tuam. A cannonade of six hours on two successive days was enough to make a practicable breach, both in the barbican and in the inner walls, which crushed many as they crumbled. The storming party soon mastered all but one turret, which stood farthest from the battery and was still intact. The fire was directed upon this point, and two or three shots dislodged the garrison, of whom, says Zouch, ‘there escaped not one, neither man, woman, nor child.’ Those who swam were shot in the water, others were put to the sword, and a few who surrendered, including one woman, were hanged in the camp. Captain Julian was kept prisoner for two or three days and then hanged. The people began to curse Desmond for bringing all these misfortunes upon them. He answered that, if no help from Pope or Spaniard came before Whit Sunday, ‘he should seek a strange country and leave them to make their compositions.’ The castles of Balliloghan and Askeaton were abandoned by their defenders when they saw the fate of Carrigafoyle. Those at Askeaton escaped across the water, having made an unsuccessful attempt to blow up the castle. Pelham occupied this last stronghold, and the war was turned into a hunt.[35]

Maltby in Connaught.

Sanders and Desmond failed to rouse Connaught, which Maltby had retained after Drury’s death. Richard Burke, called Richard-in-Iron, husband of the redoubtable Grace O’Malley, alone ventured to take arms, in reliance upon the remoteness and natural strength of his country. He collected all the loose men of Connaught, and sent for 100 Scots bowmen from Ulster. But the Hebrideans were disinclined to join him, knowing that they would encounter English soldiers and a skilful leader. To prevent them from changing their minds, Maltby secured Sligo, through which they would have to pass. O’Connor Sligo, and O’Rourke—proudest man in Ireland though he was—agreed to Maltby’s terms, and kept their words as to excluding the Scots. He had two English companies, to which he added 100 native horse and 400 foot, who were to pay themselves in Richard-in-Iron’s country, and to cost the Queen nothing. Burke, with 1,000 men, had spoiled the devoted district about Athenry and the northern part of Roscommon, but he fell back to the shore of the Atlantic before Maltby could advance. When all was ready, he went from Athlone to Ballinasloe, where he hung six malefactors, and to Athenry, where he hung another. At Clare Galway he met John and Ulick Burke, full of complaints against each other, between whom he made a truce till he had leisure to hear them. He then marched by Shrule and Ballintubber to Clew Bay. The fate of a castle held by a priest, who was Richard-in-Iron’s chief counsellor, is thus concisely described:—

‘I put the band, both men, women, and children, to the sword, whereupon all the other castles in the country were given up without any resistance.’ Grace O’Malley came to him with some of her kinsmen, but her husband took refuge with his forces in the islands in Clew Bay. Burrishoole Abbey, where Maltby encamped, was chosen by him as the site of a walled town, the people seeming very willing to have such a place among them, and MacWilliam Burke, who accompanied the governor of his own accord, offered land for its support. Richard-in-Iron, finding Maltby too strong for him, said he was ready to submit. Maltby sent for boats to Achill, but the weather was so bad that he could not reach the island for a week. In the meantime more than 100 of Richard’s followers had died of starvation—a little episode which shows what Irish warfare sometimes was. In the end Burke submitted to the garrison which Maltby left at Burrishoole. The return journey to Athlone was accomplished in deep snow. The starved pigs and sheep with lambs came out of the woods into the camp, but they were killed and eaten. During the siege of Carrigafoyle, Maltby was in Scattery Island, and in frequent communication with Pelham, whom he joined at Limerick after the capture of Askeaton.[36]

Man-hunting and cattle-lifting.

Pelham’s policy was to bridle the Desmond district with garrisons, who should be strong enough to eat up the country and to fatten themselves while the rebels starved. He hoped thus to localise the struggle in Kerry, which was too poor to maintain it unaided. The English fleet would look after the seaboard. The garrisons seem to have performed perfectly their rather inglorious duties. Captains Hollingsworth and George Carew had 400 foot at Askeaton, but no horse, the soil being already too bare to support them. The soldiers drove in all the sheep and cows in their neighbourhood, and killed twenty-five of the miserable people who ventured to protect their own. Sir George Bourchier, who had two companies and a troop of horse at Kilmallock, scoured the woods in the Maigue district, and killed sixty rebels in a skirmish, making good his retreat and keeping his spoils. Captain Walker, who held Adare with 200 men, met Desmond himself on one of his forays. The Earl had about 600 followers, who stood well to their pikes for a time, but were ultimately worsted with great loss. Captain Dowdall occupied Cashel with 300 men. With the help of Lord Dunboyne, he penetrated Aherlow wood, and brought off 300 cows and ponies. Pelham himself lay chiefly at Limerick, endeavouring to do his part by diplomacy, while Ormonde was securing his own district against Piers Grace and other marauders.[37]

Gathering at Limerick.

The 10th of May was appointed by the Lord Justice for a general assembly of the Munster lords at Limerick. Ormonde duly appeared, bringing with him White, the Master of the Rolls, who had just returned from England, Lords Dunboyne and Power, and Sir James Fitzgerald, of Decies. Lord Roche and his son Maurice, who had for a time been in rebellion, and Sir Thomas, of Desmond, came from Cork, and two days later they were followed by Lord Barry and by Sir Cormac MacTeigue. Thomond also attended. None of the western chiefs came, but Lord Fitzmaurice took the precaution of sending an excuse.

A new peer.

Sir William Burke, whose son had lost his life in taking that of James Fitzmaurice, received his patent as Baron of Castle Connell, and was invested by Pelham. ‘The poor old gentleman,’ says White with a certain pathos, ‘made many grateful speeches in his language, and afterwards, partly from joy at his own promotion, partly from some natural remembrance of his child, and partly from the unwonted straitness of his new robes, fell suddenly in a swoon at the Lord Justice’s table, so as he was like to have been made and unmade all of a day.’ Seeing no hopes of many more, Pelham conferred with those who were present. Lords Barry and Roche were sworn to forego their private quarrels and to join with Sir Cormac in prosecuting the rebels, under Ormonde’s directions, and particularly in keeping them out of the county of Cork. A like arrangement was made for Waterford, and Ormonde was to encamp at or near Kilmallock. The deliberations at Limerick were concluded by a volley of three or four hundred shots. Pelham himself decided to visit Kerry. As the plot thickened round Desmond, Dr. Sanders redoubled his assurances that help was coming from Spain. Six thousand Italians were reported to be in the Asturias, ready to sail. The Lord Justice believed himself well able to deal with invaders; but want of provisions and arrears of pay in the Queen’s army helped the rebels more effectually than any foreigners could do.[38]

More hares than people.

An Earl’s house.

Desmond, Pelham, and Ormonde.

After many delays Pelham and Ormonde prepared to enter Kerry together. The Earl lay for some time at Cashel, where he enjoyed the society of Sir Nicholas White. The Master of the Rolls complained, with an odd professional conceit, that he had to sleep in the Star Chamber—that is, in the open air. Clancare’s eldest son was also in the camp, and Ormonde declared that if the father wavered in his allegiance he would ‘graft him to the highest tree in his country. ‘In the meantime they probably amused themselves with coursing, for White says her Majesty had many countries forsaken of the people, but well stocked with hares. Pelham left Askeaton on June 11, joined the Adare garrison, and marched up the Maigue valley to Bruree. Edward Fenton, who had an eye for scenery rare in those days, was struck by the pleasantness of the scene. The neighbourhood was explored next day, but neither rebels nor cows were caught in any numbers, and the army crossed the hills which divide Limerick from Cork. Ormonde broke up his camp and joined the Lord Justice near Buttevant, where Lord Roche came to pay his respects, but offered very little help in the way of provisions. Pelham noted this in silence, and led the whole army up the Blackwater, driving the MacCarthies and O’Callaghans with their cattle into the vast woods. Then followed a toilsome and dangerous march through the hills to Castle Island, the Lord Justice riding in advance and taking up the ground himself. ‘The island,’ says White, and the ruins attest it, ‘is a huge, monstrous castle of many rooms, but very filthy and full of cowdung. ‘Desmond and Sanders had but just time to escape, and the Earl’s store of whiskey, the Countess ‘kerchers,’ and certain sacerdotal vestments, which Pelham calls masking furniture, fell into English hands. White secured the sanctus bell, a cruciform lectern, and the cover of a chalice. ‘Never,’ he says, ‘was the bad Earl and his legate a latere so bested in his own privy chamber and county palatine of Kerry.’ The bell and lectern went to his patron, Burghley, ‘with remainder to Mrs. Blanche as toys.’ The valley of the Maine was full of cattle, but the soldiers were too tired to do much. Some horsemen, who were fresher than the rest, managed to bring in 1,500 kine and 2,000 sheep. Desmond and his wife had a narrow escape, being carried on men’s shoulders through the bogs. The best of the cattle were driven off into Clanmaurice, but Lord Fitzmaurice and his son Patrick came into the camp. While Pelham was at Castlemaine, Ormonde searched the recesses of Glenflesk, where he found no cattle, but many of the Munster chieftains, Clancarties, O’Callaghan, MacAuliffe, O’Donoghue More, and MacGibbon. All offered their services, and he took them with him to Pelham at Castlemaine. Thus accompanied, the whole army marched to Dingle, having first erected a breastwork to protect the cattle which had been taken.[39]

Dingle found in ruins.

The peasantry starving.

At Dingle they found the squadron under Winter. Pelham dined on board the admiral, and afterwards went round the fleet, the ‘Swallow’ firing a royal salute when he went ashore. Over 8,000 pounds of biscuit and 10 tuns of beer were sent round to Castlemaine. Dingle was found razed to the ground by John of Desmond, though the merchants’ houses had been ‘very strong and built castle-wise.’ The inhabitants—Bonvilles, Hallys, Scurlocks, Knolts, Sleynys, Angelis, Goldings, Horgetts, Rices, and Trants—hung about their ruined homes, cursing John of Desmond, the Knight of Kerry, and Dr. Sanders, as the root of all their calamities. The ‘Merlin’ was sent to ransack the numerous harbours between Dingle and Cork, and Pelham and Winter scoured the country; on one occasion amusing themselves by robbing an eagle’s nest. The Lord Justice came by chance upon a deserted bakehouse belonging to the Knight of Kerry, and converted a barrel of meal into bread, from the want of which he had suffered much. After exploring both shores of Dingle Bay, even sending light vessels to the Blaskets, lest cattle should be harboured in those sea-beaten islands, Winter and Pelham returned to Castlemaine, and came suddenly upon a vast herd of cows, not less than 4,000 or 5,000, which they drove into their entrenchments, and slaughtered for the use of the fleet. The starving people of the county besought Winter for God’s sake to give them something to eat, and he left them twelve or thirteen cows, a few goats, and 400 sheep, the distribution being entrusted to one MacMorris, a steward of Desmond’s, who had deserted, and from whom some service was expected. The works made for the protection of the prey were then razed, and the fleet sailed for Berehaven.[40]

Ormonde’s raid.

An Irish palace.

Ormonde accompanied Pelham to Dingle and left him taking in provisions from the fleet, while he went to look for James of Desmond in O’Sullivan More’s country. He had to pass round the bottom of Dingle Bay through Clancare’s territory, and that Earl met him and acted as guide. The expedition was not expected, and 1,000 cows were taken; but Ormonde’s followers were closely pursued by O’Sullivan’s sons. Many of the chief’s tenants sided with the strongest, and with their help the cattle were brought away. Beef and water formed the only sustenance of Ormonde’s men, but they did not lag in their work of destruction, and the fires which they raised in Valentia were seen across the bay at Ventry. Pelham returned to Castlemaine, where Ormonde, ‘sore broken in his feet with rocks,’ joined him after a foray of five or six days. He brought with him Clancare, O’Sullivan Bere, and O’Sullivan More, ‘Mac Fynyn of the kerne,’ MacDonogh, O’Keefe, O’Callaghan, MacAuliffe, O’Donoghue More, and all the other chiefs of Desmond except O’Donoghue of Glenflesk, who remained with the traitor earl. The combined forces of Pelham and Ormonde encamped between Pallice and Dunloe by the lower lake of Killarney, ‘the famous lake called Lough Leane.’ Sir N. White notes forty islands, an abbey—Innisfallen—in one, a parish church in another, in a third a castle, ‘out of which came to us a fair lady, the rejected wife of Lord Fitzmaurice, daughter to the late MacCarthy More, eldest brother to this earl.’ Edward Fenton was struck by the beauty of the scene, and interested by the report of large mussels containing pearls; but he was even more struck by Clancare’s castle, ‘called the Palace, a name very unfit for so beggarly a building, not answerable to a mean farmer’s house in England, and his entertainment much like to his dwelling.’ O’Sullivan More’s castle of Dunloe had been razed by Ormonde during his first expedition against James Fitzmaurice. Leaving Killarney, the army explored Glenflesk, which White, with Virgil and Cacus in his mind, calls a ‘famous spelunce.’ But they saw neither men, monsters, nor cattle, and crossed into the upper valley of the Blackwater without any fighting. Near Kanturk Ormonde recovered his heavy baggage which he had left behind on first entering the mountains, and the whole army then marched by Mallow to Cork. The citizens, who were half-starved themselves, were very slow to relieve their wants, but at last agreed to send Pelham 100l., to give 100l. worth of wine on credit, and 100l. worth of friezes, brogues, and stockings. Many soldiers had broken down for want of bread. They could do anything, White said, ‘if they had but bread, the lack whereof is their only overthrow, and nothing else.’[41]

Great gathering at Cork

Ormonde’s speech.

In White’s quaint language, all the lords and chiefs ‘cisalpine and transalpine the mountains of Slieve Logher,’ were present at Cork. Pelham found that nearly as many Barries as Geraldines were in rebellion; but nevertheless Lord Barrymore stood the stiffest on his defence. The rest had very little to say for themselves, and Ormonde bitterly upbraided them, ‘charging himself with their faults for making of Her Majesty to conceive so well of them.’ Desmond, he says, was their ancient scourge and enemy, and as they had favoured him he would cast them off and bid each shift for himself. He would utterly refuse their friendship and spend his blood against them all and against all Her Majesty’s enemies, ‘advising such as loved him to follow his ways, and such as would not bade them defiance, swearing a great oath and clapping his hand upon the Bible, that if Her Majesty did proclaim them traitors with the rest he would lay it on their skins, and in conclusion advised the Lord Justice to carry them all with him to Limerick till better order were taken with them.’ All were received to mercy except Lord Barrymore, who was committed for trial. ‘He is,’ said Ormonde, ‘an arrant Papist, who a long time kept in his house Dr. Tanner, made bishop here by the Pope, who died in my Lord of Upper Ossory’s house, being secretly kept there. Believe me, Mr. Secretary, you shall find my Lord of Upper Ossory as bad a man as may be.’ Pelham took Clancare, Barrymore, and several others with him, and, having been delayed at Mallow by a summer flood in the Blackwater, arrived at Limerick without further adventure. He professed himself fairly satisfied with the progress made. Frequent inroads, and still more the steady pressure of the garrisons, would soon starve out the rebels, unless help came from abroad. In that case, he said, ‘I look their strength will be infinitely multiplied.’[42]

Rebellion of Viscount Baltinglas.

As if to fill the time till the Spaniards came, a movement now began which defeated Pelham’s calculations. The new rebel was James Eustace, who had lately succeeded his father as Viscount Baltinglas, and who was an enthusiastic Catholic. He was already connected with the turbulent O’Byrnes, and his father had been in opposition on the cess question; but it is clear that religion was the chief motive. Before he succeeded to the title, Sanders and others persuaded him to go to Rome, and what he saw there under Gregory XIII. had exactly a contrary effect on him to what the Rome of Leo X. had upon Luther. On his return he heard mass, boldly gloried in the fact before the Ecclesiastical Commission, and was mulcted in the statutable fine of 100 marks, Sidney quaintly declaring that he could not countenance ‘Papistry and abolished religion.’ Loftus was told to exact the money or a bond, and to imprison in default. The young lord went to gaol for twenty-four hours, and was pardoned on signing the bond. But fine and imprisonment never convince, though they sometimes silence, and Baltinglas was in no way changed by what courtly officials called her Majesty’s godly proceedings. ‘I mean,’ he wrote to a Waterford merchant, ‘to take this holy enterprise in hand by the authority of the Supreme Head of the Church.’

Baltinglas and Ormonde.

The letter fell into Ormonde’s hands, and the bearer seems to have been hanged in chains. Ormonde had already warned the Viscount to be careful, and he now sent an answer which at once committed him irretrievably and almost without hope of pardon. He said he had been commanded to take the sword by the highest power on earth, and would maintain the truth to the extent of his means.

‘Questionless,’ he added, ‘it is great want of knowledge, and more of grace, to think and believe that a woman uncapax of all holy orders, should be the supreme governor of Christ’s Church; a thing that Christ did not grant unto his own mother. If the Queen’s pleasure be, as you allege, to minister justice, it were time to begin; for in this twenty years’ part of her reign we have seen more damnable doctrine maintained, more oppressing of poor subjects, under pretence of justice, within this land than ever we read or heard.... If Thomas Becket, the Bishop of Canterbury, had never suffered death in the defence of the Church, Thomas Butler, alias Becket, had never been Earl of Ormonde.’[43] Ormonde sent the letter by express to Walsingham, for the Queen’s eye, characterising it as ‘foolish, traitorous, popish, and devil-persuaded,’ praying that God might confound all her unnatural subjects and give her victory over all His enemies.

‘Sir, I pray you tell her Majesty that poor Lucas will remain constant in the true faith, whoever follow the Pope and do the contrary, and that neither Becket nor Canterbury shall alter him.’

A Catholic confederacy.

It was a year of great activity among the English Catholics. Parsons and Campion had just landed; the air teemed with rumours, and papers were freely circulated to prepare men for something extraordinary. A Devonshire gentleman named Eve brought one of these to Waterford, and it was not calculated to make the task of the Irish Government easier. Ten or twelve thousand men from the Pope, rather more from the King of Spain, and rather fewer from the Duke of Florence, were expected to invade England, and there to reassert the Pope’s lawful sovereignty. Elizabeth was declared ineligible, both as bastard and as heretic, to wear the vassal crown, and it was proposed to publish the Bull of excommunication in every Christian church and court. The English Catholic nobles were, however, to be allowed to crown one of their own number, who was to be independent of Spain, but her faithful ally in reducing the Hollanders. All Church lands were to be restored. The importer of this notable scheme was arrested by the Mayor of Waterford, and sent in irons to Clonmel, with his companion, a merchant of Bridgewater, to be dealt with by Pelham. We may, however, be sure that for one such production intercepted, many escaped the notice of the officials, and that Baltinglas had reason to expect support from outside. But he probably rested his hopes mainly upon the help of his neighbours, and even fancied he could get Kildare to join him.[44]

Attitude of Kildare.

On July 14th, nearly a fortnight before the insurrection actually broke out, the Archbishop of Dublin met Kildare on the legendary hill of Tara. Baltinglas was only two miles off, and in charge of the Earl’s own troop. Kildare had been told everything, and he informed Loftus that the Viscount and other Papists had conspired and were ready to rebel. ‘The first exploit they will do,’ he said, ‘is to kill you and me; you, for the envy they bear to your religion, and me, for that being taken away, they think there is no one to make head against them.’ Dr. Loftus indeed might have had a bad chance had he fallen into their hands, but there is no likelihood that they had any murderous intention towards Kildare. The threat was probably used as likely to have weight with one whose sympathies were already more than half-gained: The Archbishop pressed the Earl to arrest the traitor and more than once received an evasive answer; but at last Kildare confessed what was doubtless the true cause of his inaction. ‘I should heap to myself universally the hatred and illwill of my country, and pull upon my house and posterity for ever the blame.’ At last he agreed to make an appointment with Baltinglas, and to arrest him, provided the Archbishop had an agent present to charge him on his allegiance. In the meantime he went to the Viscount several times in a quiet way, and did nothing until he and Feagh MacHugh O’Byrne were in actual rebellion. After this Baltinglas wrote to tell the Earl that he had unfurled his Holiness’s banner, and asking for an interview at the bridge of Ballymore Eustace. Kildare not appearing, he wrote again to express his regret and to urge him to join the good cause. ‘I trust therefore the day shall never come that strangers shall say that when Christ’s banner was in the field on the one side, and the banner of heresy on the other side, that the Earl of Kildare’s forces were openly seen to stand under the heretical banner.’ The charming was not particularly wise, yet Kildare did not altogether refuse to hear it. In the end he so managed matters as to alienate both sides.[45]

Results of Pelham’s proceedings.

At the very moment that Baltinglas broke out, Lord Grey de Wilton’s patent as Deputy was signed in England. Pelham had but a few weeks of authority left, and he did not pass them in idleness. By the advice of Sir Warham St. Leger, and with the consent of Ormonde, he detained most of the Munster lords and chiefs at Limerick; and, having thus laid hands on the shepherds, he proceeded to make his own terms with the flock. ‘My manner of prosecuting,’ he wrote to the Queen, ‘it is thus: I give the rebels no breath to relieve themselves, but by one of your garrisons or other they be continually hunted. I keep them from their harvest, and have taken great preys of cattle from them, by which it seemeth the poor people that lived only upon labour, and fed by their milch cows, are so distressed as they follow their goods and offer themselves with their wives and children rather to be slain by the army than to suffer the famine that now in extremity beginneth to pinch them. And the calamity of these things have made a division between the Earl and John of Desmond, John and Sanders seeking for relief to fall into the company and fellowship of the Viscount Baltinglas; and the Earl, without rest anywhere, flieth from place to place, and maketh mediation for peace by the Countess, whom yesterday I licensed to have speech with me at Askeaton, whose abundance of tears betrayed sufficiently the miserable estate both of herself, her husband, and their followers.’ It was by just such means that Mountjoy afterwards put down a much greater rebellion and a much abler rebel than Desmond, and those Englishmen who knew Ireland best could see no alternative. ‘It shall be found,’ said Bagenal, ‘how severely and thoroughly good Sir William Pelham hath handled Munster; as in all his government here he deserved with the best that preceded him, so in that wrought he good perfection, and so weakened the traitors there, that John Desmond is fled to Leinster, where he is to salve his drained estate with Baltinglas. His own actions, if his commendation should be withdrawn, will sufficiently express his desert.’[46]

Terms offered to the repentant.

Death of Sir James of Desmond.

All important persons who sued for mercy were first required to imbrue their hands in some better blood than their own, and special services in proportion to their rank were required of leading rebels. Rory MacSheehy, a noted captain of the Desmond gallowglasses, was given to understand that he could have a pardon if he gave up Sanders alive. Sir John of Desmond sought to confer with St. Leger; he was told that he could have his own life by giving up his eldest brother, Dr. Sanders, and the seneschal of Imokilly. Sanders himself might perhaps be spared, if he would lay bare the whole network of foreign intrigue. The detained magnates were let loose one by one as they seemed likely to do service. Sir Cormac MacTeige MacCarthy was sheriff of Cork; he made humble submission, confessed his negligence, took a new oath, and departed with 150 English soldiers under Captain Apsley and Captain Dering. Soon afterwards Sir James of Desmond entered Muskerry and collected 2,000 of Sir Cormac’s cattle, which he proposed to drive off into the mountains west of Macroon. The sheriff came up with him, and a skirmish followed, in which Sir James was wounded and taken. He was carried from Carrigadrohid to Blarney and thence to Cork, where he was tried and condemned, having in vain begged for summary decapitation to avoid a public trial. After two months, during which he gave earnest attention to religious subjects, he was hanged, drawn, and quartered, or as the Four Masters say, cut into little pieces, dying a fervent Catholic and, as his enemies allowed, ‘a yielding to Godward a better end than otherwise he would have done if he had not died the death.’ ‘And thus,’ says Hooker, ‘the pestilent hydra hath lost another of his heads.’[47]

Munster chiefs in trouble.

Lord Fitzmaurice was at liberty, but his two sons were detained at Limerick, and he was told that he could only make his peace by intercepting Desmond or the Seneschal, or at the very least by procuring the release of Sir James Fitzgerald, of Decies, who was imprisoned in Kerry by the rebels. Sir Owen O’Sullivan Bere it was thought safe to keep at Limerick; but his neighbour Sir Owen MacCarthy Reagh was released, his tanist Donell na Pipy being retained as a hostage. Clancare had been protected by Ormonde, and the engagement was kept, but he was required to leave his son, Lord Valentia, in pledge. Lord Barrymore remained contumacious, and was sent to Dublin Castle, his sons being encouraged to come in under protection, but St. Leger was told to keep them safe until they offered good security. Sir Warham, who was always for harsh courses, advised that the father should be executed and his estate confiscated. The example, he thought, would be salutary, and the land would pay the whole cost of the war.[48]

Narrow escapes of Sanders and John of Desmond,

In the meantime the garrisons were busy. Sir George Bourchier was near taking a rich prize at Kilmallock. During a night foray, the soldiers fell in accidentally with Sanders and John of Desmond. Sir John was wounded, and both he and Sanders were over an hour in company with the soldiers, whose suspicions they disarmed by exhorting them, in English, to slay the Irish. An Englishman in Sanders’ service was taken and killed by the soldiers, because he would confess nothing. James O’Hea, a friar of Youghal, was made prisoner, and gave important information.

who contrive to join Baltinglas.

A division of opinion had arisen between Desmond on the one hand, and his brother Sanders on the other. The Earl was inclined to sue for peace, but the others were determined to fight it out to the last. Finding themselves straitened in Kerry, they made their way to Leinster, where Baltinglas eagerly expected them. With about five-and-twenty followers, they passed through the glen of Aherlow, and crossed North Tipperary into the Queen’s County, where they were helped by the remnant of the O’Mores, and by the veteran Piers Grace, until they joined the O’Byrnes near the border of Wicklow. They had an escape on the road, which Pelham called strange, and which a Catholic writer evidently thought miraculous. They met Ormonde—or more probably one of his brothers—who called out that they were in the net. ‘A sudden tempest,’ we are told, ‘arose on a fine day—whether at the Doctor’s prayers, or not, God knows—and the rain was so thick that the Earl, with the ministers of Satan, could not advance against the Catholics, nor even hold up their heads for a whole hour.’ The fugitives, who had the wind at their backs, threw away all superfluous weight, and escaped. Having lost their best leader, the Munster rebels sought terms for themselves. Baltinglas summoned Desmond himself to join him, for defence of the Catholic faith, but the Earl’s people said they were starving, and could endure no longer war; and they openly reviled Sanders as the cause of all their misery.[49]

Desmond almost surrenders,

but changes his mind

when a new governor comes.

Wearied by want of bread and all comforts, the rebel Earl began to feel that the game was up, and he besought Winter to give him a passage to England. Pelham did not object, provided the surrender was unconditional; but would allow no agents to pass, nor the Countess to go over without her husband. The poor lady’s tears showed him that her cause was desperate. Chief Secretary Fenton was principally struck by her impudence in venturing to defend her husband’s conduct. Pelham was inclined to believe that they both meant nothing but villainy, and were only seeking time to get in the harvest, and he directed Bourchier at Kilmallock, and Case at Askeaton, to give the fugitive Earl no rest for the sole of his foot. The hunted wretch might have surrendered to Winter had it not been for the change of government, which, both before and since, in Ireland, has often been wrongly supposed to denote a change of policy. He had perhaps been told that Grey’s orders from the Queen were to treat him leniently. At all events he changed his tone, though he had but 120 gallowglasses with him. These men clamoured loudly and vainly for their quarter’s pay, and the camp was followed by a horde of poor starving creatures, who begged such scraps as unpaid soldiers could give. In spite of all this, Desmond now declared that he would yield to Grey only, for that he remembered former hard treatment in England, and doubted that it would be worse than ever. And so the matter stood when Pelham, who had himself desired to be relieved, received the order to go to Dublin, and there surrender the sword to his successor. He had declared himself willing to serve under the new governor in Munster, with or without the title of Lord President, and the latter was directed to take advantage of his zeal, his experience, and his martial skill. As it was, he left Ireland on the nominal ground of health, perhaps because he could not get on with Grey, or because the Queen was frightened at the expense. He afterwards found work in the Netherlands, and Bourchier was left in charge of Munster with the rank of Colonel, Ormonde having enough to do in defending his own country against the Leinster insurgents.[50]

FOOTNOTES:

[22] Drury to Walsingham, Aug. 23, 1579; Walsingham’s letters of Aug. 5, 6, and 7; E. Tremayne to Burghley, Aug. 5; Proportions of victual, &c. Aug. 24; Wallop to Walsingham, Aug. 27, and Sept. 3, 4, and 14; Instructions to Sir John Perrott, Aug. 19.

[23] Lord Justice and Earl of Kildare to the Privy Council, Aug. 3, 1579; Waterhouse to Walsingham, Aug. 22; Gerard to Walsingham, Wilson, and Burghley, Sept. 10, 15, and 16; Drury to Walsingham, Sept. 14 and 17; Wallop to Burghley, Sept. 20. Drury died Sept. 30, and what Sanders said about him is in a letter of Feb. 21, 1580, printed in Strype’s Parker, appendix 77.

[24] Maltby to Walsingham, Oct. 12, 1579, with enclosures.

[25] Maltby to Walsingham, Oct. 12, 1579, and to Leicester, April 8, 1580; The Jesuit Allen is not mentioned by the Four Masters, by O’Sullivan, by O’Daly, or by several other Irish authorities, but frequently by Hooker, who says he was Irish-born. Russell mentions him, but calls him an English priest, and this seems probable.

[26] Ormonde to Walsingham, July 27 and August 10, 1579; Desmond to Ormonde and also to some powerful person at court Oct. 10; and the letters in Carew from Oct. 17 to Nov. 1.

[27] Waterhouse to Walsingham, Nov. 4, 1579. The proclamation is in Carew, under Nov. 2.

[28] Ormonde to Walsingham, Nov. 7, 1579; Walsingham to Waterhouse, Nov. 8; Pelham to Wilson, Nov. 28; to the Queen, Dec. 15 and 28; and many other letters in Carew.

[29] O’Sullivan Bere, ii. iv. 15; Pelham to Burghley, Nov. 28, 1579; Arthur and White to Maltby, Nov. 27; St. Leger to Ormonde, Dec. 1; Ormonde to Burghley, Dec. 27; Pelham to Burghley, Jan. 27, 1580. Abstract of examinations Jan. 4, 1580. Hooker says Desmond’s horde took five days to collect the spoils, and that Ormonde sent an armed vessel which recovered some guns, but that her master was killed. See also the examination of Friar James O’Hea in Carew, Aug. 17, 1580, and the petition of Anyas, Burgomaster of Youghal, Sept. 9, 1583. Edmund Tanner, S.J., to the General of the Jesuits, Oct. 11, 1577, in Hibernia Ignatiana.

[30] Pelham to the Irish Council, Jan. 26, 1580, in Carew. Ormonde to Burghley, Dec. 27, 1579; Wallop to Burghley, Dec. 29; Letters of Dec. 3, in Carew; Hooker.

[31] Ormonde to Walsingham, Jan. 4, 1580; Burghley to Ormonde, Jan. 26; Pelham to Wallop, Feb. 9; to the Privy Council, Feb. 28; to Walsingham, May 20; Lord Justice and Council to the Privy Council, Jan. 29: the four last in Carew.

[32] Burghley to Pelham, Dec. 30, 1579; and to Ormonde, Jan. 26, 1580.

[33] Pelham to Burghley, Feb. 4, 1580; Waterhouse to Walsingham, Feb. 3; G. Fenton to Burghley, Feb. 18; Lord Justice and Council to the Privy Council, Jan. 29, in Carew.

[34] Pelham to Wallop, Feb. 9, 1580; to the Privy Council, Feb. 10 and 28; to the Queen and to Leicester, Feb. 16; Lord Roche to Ormonde, Feb. 11: all these in Carew.

[35] Pelham to the Queen and to Burghley, April 1, 1580; and to the Queen, April 5; Zouch to Walsingham, April 8. Hooker.

[36] Discourse of Sir N. Maltby’s proceedings, April 8, 1580, and his letter to Walsingham of that date.

[37] Pelham to the Privy Council, April 11 and 16, 1580, in Carew.

[38] Pelham to the Privy Council, May 20; James Golde to Leicester, May 20; White, M.R., to Leicester, May 31, all in Carew. White to Burghley, May 31; Pelham to the Queen. May 18.

[39] Sir N. White, M.R., to Burghley, Walsingham, and Leicester, May 31, 1580, the last in Carew; Journal of Occurrences, July 2; Pelham to Wallop, June 21; Edw. Fenton to Walsingham, July 11; Ormonde to Walsingham, July 21; White, M.R., to Walsingham, July 22; Pelham to the Privy Council, July 9, in Carew.

[40] Chiefly from Journal of Occurrences, July 2.

[41] Edw. Fenton to Walsingham, July 11; Ormonde to same, July 21; White M.R. to same, July 22; Pelham to the Privy Council, July 4 and 8 in Carew.

[42] White M.R. to the Privy Council, July 22, 1580, where Ormonde’s speech is given; Ormonde to Walsingham, July 21; Pelham and his Council to the Privy Council, July 9 and 12, in Carew.

[43] Baltinglas to Ormonde, received before July 24, 1580, to R. Walshe, July 18; Ormonde to Walsingham, July 24. I believe the connection of the Butlers with the Beckets has never been proved.

[44] Eve’s seditious libel, July 3; Pelham to the Mayor of Waterford, July 26, in Carew.

[45] Baltinglas to Kildare, July 22, 1580; Deputy Grey to the Queen, Dec. 23; Earls of Kildare, ii. 198 sqq.

[46] Pelham to the Queen, Aug. 12, 1580, in Carew; Sir N. Bagenal to Leicester, Oct. 3, in Wright’s Elizabeth.

[47] Pelham to Lord Fitzmaurice, July 27, 1580; to St. Leger, Aug. 15; the Estate wherein Pelham left Munster, Aug. 28: these three in Carew. St. Leger and P. Grant to Ormonde, Aug. 6; St. Leger to Burghley, Oct 9.

[48] Pelham to Burghley, July 15, 1580; to St. Leger, Aug. 26; the latter in Carew. State in which Pelham left Ireland, Aug. 28, in Carew. St. Leger to Burghley, July 15.

[49] Paper by J. Holing, S.J., in Spicilegium Ossoriense, i. 94. Pelham to Bourchier, Aug. 5, 1580; to the Queen, Aug. 12; to Winter, Aug. 16; State in which Pelham left Ireland, Aug. 28; all in Carew. G. Fenton to Burghley and Leicester, Aug. 8; Wallop to Walsingham, Aug. 9.

[50] Pelham to Winter, Aug. 24, 1580; Winter to Pelham, Aug. 24; Directions to Sir G. Bourchier, Aug. 28: all in Carew. Gerard, White, M.R., and Wallop to Burghley, Oct. 7; Wallop to Walsingham, Sept. 28; Grey to the Queen, Oct. 5. Grey landed Aug. 12, and was sworn in Sept. 7.

[CHAPTER XXXVIII.]

THE DESMOND WAR—SECOND STAGE, 1580-1581.

Lord Grey’s instructions.

Whatever private hints the Queen might give to Grey, his official instructions contained nothing to Desmond’s advantage. On the contrary, he was warned to avoid the common fault of former governors, who had been too easy in granting pardons to notorious transgressors of the law, and had thereby bred boldness in subjects prone to offend. In future, pardons were not to be given without good reasons, nor at all in general terms, but only for some specified offence. On the other hand the Queen was anxious to have it known that she did not wish to extirpate the inhabitants of Ireland, as it had been falsely and maliciously reported. Outrages committed by soldiers were to be severely punished, and officers of high rank were not to be exempt. The rebellion was to be put down as quickly as possible, so that her Majesty’s charge might be reduced. Grey landed on August 12, but the sword of state was still in Munster, and he could not take the oath without it. Baltinglas and Feagh MacHugh O’Byrne were in force not much more than twenty miles from Dublin, and he resolved to attack them before Pelham’s arrival.[51]

State of the Pale.

Whatever hopes Desmond himself may have had from Grey, the change of government was not favourable to the chances of a rebellion near Dublin. The advent of a governor of high rank generally signified increased force, a more liberal expenditure of money, and more activity in official circles. Lord Chancellor Gerard had just landed on a part of the coast over which Baltinglas was for the moment supreme; and the latter had unaccountably neglected to make him a hostage. ‘Compared with the rest of his doings,’ said Pelham, ‘this doth argue that both he and his followers be the most foolish traitors that ever I heard of.’ The Chancellor reported that all the Leinster chiefs as well as O’Neill, O’Donnell, O’Rourke, and O’Connor Sligo were sworn to Baltinglas, and that he had the hearts of the whole country. The rebels had burned Harrington’s town of Newcastle, and openly displayed the Pope’s banner; but Kildare seemed to stand firm, and comforted the Chancellor by abusing the captains for giving false musters, saying that the Queen paid for 1,300 when she had only 700. But his most trusted follower, Gerald Fitzmaurice, had joined the rebels with his company. Sir William Stanley brought reinforcements from England, but in such plight as to argue no great probability of good service. Out of 120 calivers scarce twenty were serviceable, and the men were raw, ill-provided with necessaries, and fewer than their leader had been given to expect. The captains, blamed by Kildare, said their pay was at least three months in arrear, and of course all their men were discontented. Gormanston lay at Naas with 500 men, but the distrust was so general that Archbishop Loftus believed the throats of all Englishmen were about to be cut. ‘Unless strangers land,’ the Chancellor remarked, ‘I mistrust; and if they do I am of the Archbishop’s mind.’ Meanwhile the country south of Dublin was at the mercy of the rebels, and it was easy to know who sympathised with them. ‘They religiously prey,’ said Gerard, ‘overskipping some, many have taken oaths not to fight against them.’ 2,000 Scots were plundering loyal people in Ulster, and it was hard to see where it was to stop.[52]

Grey attacks the Irish in Glenmalure.

Baltinglas and Feagh MacHugh lay in the valley of the Liffey, somewhere about Ballymore Eustace. On the approach of Grey’s army from the side of Naas they withdrew into Glenmalure, a deep and rocky fortress—a combe, as the Devonian Hooker calls it—to the N.E. of Lugnaquilla. The glen was thickly wooded, and at least four miles long, and Colonel George Moore was ordered to enter it with about half the army. Grey was more a knight-errant than a general, and he determined to attack at once and in front, though warned by those about him of the risk he was running. His object was to drive the rebels from the covert, so that they might be shot or ridden down on the open hillside. Old Francis Cosby, general of the Queen’s kerne, who was a man of extraordinary personal courage and of unrivalled experience in Irish warfare, foresaw the danger; but he was not listened to, and he boldly advanced to what he believed to be almost certain death. Jacques Wingfield, the Master of the Ordinance, who doubtless remembered his own overthrow nineteen years before, was present with his two nephews, Peter and George Carew, and he vainly tried to dissuade them from risking their lives. ‘If I lose one,’ he then urged, ‘yet will I keep the other,’ and George, reserved, as Camden says, for greater things, consented to stay by his uncle. Sir Peter, with Captain Audley and Lieutenant Parker, were with Colonel Moore in front, while Sir Henry Bagenal and Sir William Stanley brought up the rear. ‘When we entered,’ says Stanley, ‘the foresaid glen, we were forced to slide sometimes three or four fathoms ere we could stay our feet. It was in depth at least a mile, full of stones, rocks, bogs, and wood; in the bottom a river full of loose stones, which we were driven to cross divers times. So long as our leaders kept the bottom, the odds were on our side. But our colonel, being a corpulent man, before we were half through the glen, being four miles in length, led us up the hill that was a long mile in height; it was so steep that we were forced to use our hands as well to climb as our feet, and the vanward being gone up the hill, we must of necessity follow.... It was the hottest piece of service for the time that ever I saw in any place. I was in the rearward, and with me twenty-eight soldiers of mine, whereof were slain eight, and hurt ten. I had with me my drum, whom I caused to sound many alarms, which was well answered by them that was in the rearward, which stayed them from pulling us down by the heels. But I lost divers of my dear friends. They were laid all along the wood as we should pass, behind trees, rocks, crags, bogs, and in covert. Yet so long as we kept the bottom we lost never a man, till we were drawn up the hill by our leaders, where we could observe no order; we could have no sight of them, but were fain only to beat the places where we saw the smoke of our pieces; but the hazard of myself and the loss of my company was the safeguard of many others... were a man never so slightly hurt, he was lost, because no man was able to help him up the hill. Some died, being so out of breath that they were able to go no further, being not hurt at all.’[53]

Defeat of the English.

Carew and Audley had a dispute at the outset, and the loud talk of two usually quiet and modest officers had a very bad effect on their men. The renegade captain, Gerald Fitzmaurice, had full information from Kildare’s people, if not from the Earl himself, and he knew the companies had never been together before. They contained many raw recruits, and he rightly calculated that they would be thrown into confusion by an unseen enemy. The soldiers fresh from England wore red or blue coats, and Maltby, who was with Grey in the open, saw how easily they were picked off. ‘The strangeness of the fight,’ he adds, ‘is such to the new-come ignorant men that at the first brunt they stand all amazed, or rather give back to the enemy.... Their coats stand them in no stead, neither in fashion nor in giving them any succour to their bodies. Let the coat-money be given to some person of credit, with which, and with that which is also bestowed on their hose, they may clothe themselves here with jerkins and hose of frieze, and with the same money bring them every man a mantle which shall serve him for his bedding and thereby shall not be otherwise known to the rebels than the old soldiers be.’ The recruits wavered, the kerne ran away to the enemy, and so ‘the gentlemen were lost.’

Stanley says not above thirty Englishmen were killed, but Moore, Cosby, Audley, and other officers were among them. Grey thought the rebels were fewer than the soldiers, who were stricken by panic. Sir Peter Carew was clad in complete armour, which proved more fatal than even a red coat. Suffocated from running up hill he was forced to lie down and was easily taken. It was proposed to hold him to ransom, ‘but one villain,’ says Hooker, ‘most butcherly, as soon as he was disarmed, with his sword slaughtered and killed him, who in time after was also killed.’

Three months afterwards George Carew rejoiced that he had the good fortune to slay him who slew his brother, and announced that he meant to lay his bones by his or to be ‘thoroughly satisfied with revenge.’ No doubt the survivor under such circumstances would be filled with remorseful bitterness; but his thirst for revenge, fully slaked by a murder three years later, can be scarcely justified even according to that ancient code which prescribes an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.[54]

Consequences of the affair.

When a civilised government receives a check from its revolted subjects, the moral effect is generally out of all proportion to the actual loss. But Pelham had effectually bridled Munster, and Maltby had for the moment nearly neutralised Connaught and Ulster also. O’Rourke and O’Donnell now both took arms in the Catholic cause, and there was every prospect of a general conflagration. Maltby rode post from Dublin northwards, and such was the dread which he had inspired, that O’Donnell at once disbanded his men, and wrote to say that nothing should make him swerve from his allegiance. The President hastened to Leitrim, where he found that O’Rourke had dismantled the castle. He immediately began to repair it, though he had to draw lime eight miles. The tanist Brian O’Rourke, who regarded the chief as his greatest enemy, helped the work, and gladly acted as sheriff under the President.

O’Rourke appeared at the edge of a wood with 1,200 men, of whom 500 were Scots; but Ulick Burke, who begged for the place of honour, charged at the head of 200 soldiers and 500 kerne. Some Scots were killed, and the building was not further interrupted. Leaving a strong garrison in the castle, Maltby then hurried back to Dublin, and arrived there in time to be a witness and a critic of the Glenmalure affair. He warned the English Government that Ulster was in a dangerous state, and that Tirlogh Luineach’s wife was determined to make a new Scotland of that province. ‘She has already planted a good foundation, for she in Tyrone, her daughter in Tyrconnell (being O’Donnell’s wife), and Sorleyboy in Clandeboy, do carry all the sway in the North, and do seek to creep into Connaught, but I will stay them from that.’[55]

Results of the defeat—in Ulster,

The news of Grey’s defeat did not reach the officials at Cork for eleven days, and then only in a fragmentary way, but its effect upon the natives was instantaneous. Tirlogh Luineach, whom Captain Piers had just brought to terms, suddenly swept round the lower end of Lough Neagh, drove off the cattle of the loyalist Sir Hugh Magennis, and killed many of his men, demanded the title of O’Neill, and the old hegemony claimed by Shane, declared that he would stand in defence of religion while life lasted, and proposed to invade the Pale with 5,000 men. The Scots’ galleys lay in Lough Foyle, and effectual resistance seemed impossible. The Baron of Dungannon sent his cattle to the mountains, and hid himself in the woods, protesting his loyalty even ‘if all the Irishry in Ireland should rebel,’ and if he had nothing left but his bare body. But Magennis, after crouching for a while at Narrow Water, was forced to go as a suppliant to Tirlogh’s camp.

In the Pale,

and in Connaught.

The southern side of the Pale was in no better case. A strong force under John of Desmond besieged Maryborough, and the constable was so closely watched that he dared not write. A private settler living in the unfinished castle of Disert, and expecting to be attacked every moment, sent the news to Dublin, but was forced to entrust his letter to a poor beggar-man. Ladders were ready in the woods to attack all posts. Some of Ormonde’s villages were burned, and his brother Piers, though he maintained his own ground, could not save Abbeyleix from the flames. The remnant of the O’Connors rose once more, and Ross MacGeohegan, the most loyal and useful subject in the midlands, was murdered by his half-brother Brian, whose mother was an O’Connor. ‘All is naught here,’ wrote Maltby from Dublin, ‘and like to be worse.’ He had to reach Athlone by a circuitous route, and found his province already in an uproar.[56]

The Spaniards appear at last.

It was in foreign aid that all Irish rebels mainly trusted; and it was supposed that the fleet would prevent any descent upon Munster, the only district where strangers from the South would have much chance of maintaining themselves. Winter had been directed to cruise about the mouth of the Shannon, having first sent some light craft to the Biscay coast for news. He was not to land himself, but if necessary to employ a naval brigade under Captain Richard Bingham. The admiral was not in good health; he hated the service, he hated Captain Bingham, and he was ready to run home as soon as there seemed the least chance of victuals running short. The fleet reached Ireland about the beginning of April, and early in July Winter threatened to sail away. But the Queen’s positive orders restrained him for a time, and Pelham was at hand to inculcate obedience, reminding him that there was generally a Michaelmas summer in Ireland. Pelham left Munster on the last day of August, on December 5th Winter sailed for England, and on the 12th the long-expected Spaniards arrived at Smerwick. The admiral was required to explain his very unseasonable departure, and it must be admitted that he had reasons, though a Drake or a Nelson might not have allowed them much weight. The ships were foul, and sailed too badly either for flight or chase, the sails and ropes were rotten from the unceasing wet of a Kerry summer, victuals were running short, there was a most plentiful lack of news, and the Shannon was a bad anchorage at the best. Whatever the Queen may have thought of the admiral’s conduct, it did not prevent her from sending him to Ireland again.[57]

An English sea-dog in Spain.

An attack on England could not be secretly prepared in Spain, for the carrying trade was in England’s hands. Armed rovers like Drake, Hawkins, and Frobisher, half merchants and half buccaneers, came and went as they pleased upon the peninsular coast, in the confident hope that no Spaniard could catch them. Such a one was Captain James Sidee, an excellent seaman but not altogether free from suspicion of piracy, whom it had been necessary to pardon some years before. He sailed boldly into the splendid harbour of Ferroll, and wrote to the governor demanding the surrender of certain English subjects whom he supposed to be living there. He had perceived, he said grimly, that the country folk were in terror at his approach, but he was no pirate and would take no one by force, for Ferroll was the ‘king’s chamber which he was commanded not to break.’ But he wanted his own fellow-subjects, who had plundered a Plymouth ship at sea, and hinted plainly that he could take them if he liked. He said they were only cowkeepers who had left their cows, and John Fleming, James Fitzmaurice’s admiral, had run away from his creditors. The Irish bishop who was with them might find some better employment than keeping kine in Ireland. The Spanish governor’s answer does not appear; but one Barnaby O’Neill wrote to say that the bishop was noble, chaste, virtuous, and learned, while the heretic bishops of England were shoe-makers, scavengers, and pudding-makers, that Fleming was Lord Slane’s cousin, and that Sidee had served under that rebel, traitor, and coward, the Prince of Orange. Sidee retorted that the Silent Prince was far above his praise, and that he did not believe his correspondent was an O’Neill at all, for he had never heard his name. He might of course be some bastard, but he rather inclined to think that he was really one William Hall, a murderous thief well known in Ireland and Spain. Sir William Winter was of opinion that Sidee’s proceedings would not facilitate English diplomacy in Spain, and indeed it was an uncomfortable time for Englishmen there. But Philip was most anxious to avoid war—much too anxious indeed for the taste of his ambassadors in England—and Elizabeth’s subjects suffered more petty annoyance than actual hardship.[58]

Irish refugees in Spain.

William Carusse of Drogheda sailed from Tenby to Spain, with a cargo, in the ‘Gift of God,’ a vessel of only nineteen tons. Being chased by a man-of-war, he put into Santander, where he found an English ship and an English bark, and where he was boarded by the corregidor, and by two or three ecclesiastics who vainly searched for books, and seem to have helped themselves to six shillings. The national proverb that in Spain a little oil sticks to every hand was exemplified by Carusse’s treatment. He made friends with Mr. Browne, natural brother of Lady Kildare, and afterwards with Oliver Plunkett, a Drogheda gentleman who had served Spain in Flanders. Both befriended him with the Spanish authorities; and as they meditated an invasion of Ireland, it was not their cue to make enemies there. Browne had a map of Ireland drawn by himself, and showed by his conversation that he knew the coast. Plunkett declared that the conquest of the island would be child’s play, but that Dublin and Drogheda might give trouble. Lord Gormanston had just married a relative or friend of Plunkett’s, who was most anxious to send her a letter of congratulation, but Carusse refused to carry letters. His sails were then taken away, and by Browne’s advice he gave six ducats to the corregidor, four to a scrivener, and two each to two other officers. Then the sails were restored. Five hundred ducats belonging to him were impounded, but afterwards restored, with a deduction of four as a fee for counting them. A further fee of three ducats and expenses was exacted by Browne, and then Carusse was allowed to go free. He noted that Plunkett had three large ships under his orders, and he conversed with several Irishmen, including a priest and a friar. All talked long and loud of the coming conquest, and the ecclesiastics dwelt with unction on the bishoprics and other preferments which would be vacant. Meanwhile the very Lord Gormanston about whom Plunkett spoke was giving information to the Government. It was, he said, a religious war, and religion would draw men far; nevertheless, he could do a great deal if he had only money. Ireland was as corrupt as Spain.[59]

Devastation of Kerry.

The Spaniards land.

The fleet were lying at Ventry when the news came that Pelham had gone to Dublin, and left the troops under Sir George Bourchier’s command. Bourchier immediately entered Kerry with 600 or 700 men, and with the help of Lord Fitzmaurice began to devastate the country still further. From Castle Island to Dingle, on both sides of Slieve Mish, the powers of fire were tried to the utmost. An Englishman who had been with Sanders was taken and executed, and Lady Desmond was closely chased for two miles. The Earl fled into Limerick, and the wretched people crowded down to the sea, and submitted to the admiral, as the lesser of two evils. Winter persuaded Bourchier to spare them, on condition of their maintaining a garrison of 200 foot and 30 horse at Tralee, and of giving hostages for good behaviour, otherwise they were told that Sir George would execute his commission strictly; and his commission was ‘to burn their corn, spoil their harvest, kill and drive their cattle.’ The 4,000 cows which had been driven in were then spared, and so were many prisoners poor and rich. Winter sailed away just as the hostile expedition was leaving Corunna, and one week later four Spanish vessels came into Smerwick, where they landed men and tents, and began to fortify on the old ground. Two other ships were taken at sea by the Huguenots, who carried them into Rochelle. The more successful part of the squadron took a homeward-bound Frenchman with 56,000 codfish from Newfoundland, killed the captain and three men, and brought the remaining twenty-eight to Ireland, where they used them as labourers. One of the Spanish ships was a galley with thirty-two oars, and they gave out that she was powerful enough to batter castles. But Captain Thomas Clinton, who was cruising about the mouth of the Shannon, said he would fight her had he but ten musketeers on board his small vessel. The strangers were nearly all Italians, and only about 600 men seem to have landed, though there were rumours of more coming. Friar Matthew Oviedo was apostolic commissary, and with him were Dr. Ryan, papal Bishop of Killaloe, two Jesuit preachers, and three or four friars. Desmond came down the coast to meet them, and attacked Ardfert and Fenit castles with their aid. But they had brought up only small cannon, and the Irish garrisons easily beat them off. Captain Bingham contemptuously designates the rank and file as ‘poor simple bisognos, very ragged, and a great part of them boys’; but they had 5,000 stand of arms, and four kegs of Spanish reals were given to Desmond. Ormonde immediately prepared to take the field, and Grey, who at first scarcely believed that the strangers had landed, thought it better to temporise with Tirlogh Luineach, to whom Sanders had offered the sovereignty of Ulster. If the Queen would give him a butt or two of sack, it might, for the moment, make him forget to urge inadmissible claims. ‘As toys please children, so to Bacchus knights the lick of grapes is liking, of which crew this is a royal fellow.’[60]

Ormonde’s march to Smerwick.

Just three weeks after the landing of the Spaniards, Ormonde set out from Cork with 1,600 men. He was completely ignorant of the enemy’s force, but was anxious to have the first brush with them; and he passed the mountains into Kerry without his full armour and without camp furniture. He learned at once that Desmond and his brother John, Baltinglas, Piers Grace, and Sanders, with most of the foreigners, were strongly posted at Bungunder near Tralee. They gave out that they would fight, but fell back at Ormonde’s approach, and left his way open to Smerwick. The enemy in the field broke up into small bodies, but the fort was too strong to attempt without artillery. After conferring with the invaders, Baltinglas returned to his district, thus passing, as John of Desmond and Sanders did, twice unmolested right across Ireland. Hearing that Desmond had got into his rear, Ormonde turned to pursue, when the garrison of Smerwick made a sally and tried to provoke a fight. But Ormonde was too cautious thus to be drawn under their guns, and went on to surprise Desmond’s bivouac near Castlemaine. He took a few Spanish prisoners as well as some ‘painted tables, altar-cloths, chalices, books, and other such furniture said to be the nuncio’s.’ The Earl left his troops in the county of Limerick, and went home to help his wife to make great cheer, for the Lord Deputy Grey had written to him for 1,000 beeves, and he remarked that he might as well ask him to kill all the enemy with a breath. 500, by great exertion, might perhaps be collected. He found time to write a letter to a Spanish nobleman and to send him a hawk taken, as he was careful to mention, out of one of the many castles from which Desmond had been driven to woods and mountains. He told his correspondent that he was busy hunting the wild Biskyes and Italians, and that the rebel Earl would soon be hanged and quartered, like his brother James. ‘As for the foreigners,’ he added, ‘this much I will assure you, that they curse the Pope and as many as sent them, which they shall shortly have better cause to do.’[61]

Rapid voyage of Bingham.

Having had time to put his squadron into something like trim, Winter was ordered back to Ireland, Bingham accompanying him as vice-admiral. Sailing from Harwich with a fine breeze from the N.E., they ran through the Straits and down Channel as far as Ryde, where some days were lost waiting for orders. When the word was at last given, the wind held in the same point, but the sea rose and the ships parted company in Portland Race. Captain Bingham, in the ‘Swiftsure,’ looked into Falmouth, but did not see the admiral, and chose to think that he was gone ahead, whereas he was really far astern. Bingham ran past the Land’s End, where the wind changed to W.N.W., made Cape Clear in the morning, and anchored at the mouth of Valentia harbour. Winter strongly objected to his second-in-command’s excessive zeal, and it is plain that they hated each other cordially. In great glee probably at having outstripped his chief, the strenuous Bingham went into Valentia with the boats, but found only Captain Clinton, who directed him to Smerwick. There he anchored near the fort, after a run of sixty hours from Portland, of which ten had been passed in Valentia harbour; yet he tells us that the ‘Swiftsure’ was the slowest ship in the fleet. Ormonde was gone already; and the garrison, with the help of the peasantry, were busy strengthening their works. Bingham prepared to cut out their ships; but they towed them in almost aground, and, after exchanging shots with them, he made up his mind that the works could not be taken without heavy ordnance. Fourteen pieces were mounted on the rampart, the largest being of the kind called sakers. John of Desmond and all the foreigners were at the fort, and Bingham understood that many of the latter would leave Ireland if they could. The chill October weather did not suit the Italians, and many of them died. Brave Romans the Irish called them, but the Englishman said they were as poor rascals as he had ever met with.[62]

Grey goes to Kerry.

Towards the end of October, the Lord Deputy, much hindered by flooded rivers and a bad commissariat, slowly made his way by Kilkenny into the county of Limerick. At Rathkeale he was joined by the English companies whom Ormonde had with him, and led the united force to Dingle. The Earl seems to have returned himself. Among the newly arrived captains was Walter Raleigh, burning with anxiety to distinguish himself, and ready to tempt fortune to almost any extent. When the camp at Rathkeale broke up, he held his own company in ambush until the main column had gone to some distance. Then came some wretched kernes to pick up what they could, as the lepers came to the Syrian camp before Samaria. Raleigh took them all prisoners, including one who carried a bundle of osiers, used by the Irish as halters, and who imprudently said that they were to hang up English churls. ‘They shall now serve an Irish kerne,’ said Raleigh, and this jester out of season was hanged forthwith. The other prisoners, says Hooker, were treated according to their deserts, but we are not told what those deserts were. The whole army then marched as far as Dingle, where they encamped to wait for the admiral, who lingered at Kinsale after his rough voyage. After conferring with Bingham and viewing the fort, Grey agreed that regular approaches were necessary, and until the fleet came nothing could be done, for the army was not provided either with trenching tools or heavy guns.[63]

The fleet at Smerwick.

More than a week later an express came from Winter to say that he had been delayed by weather, but was now in Smerwick harbour, and that three provision ships had come from Cork and Limerick. Grey at once rode to Smerwick from his camp near Dingle, and Winter agreed to land eight pieces of cannon. Next day was Sunday, part of which Grey spent with Bingham studying the ground, and on Monday he moved his camp to near the doomed fort. At his approach the garrison hung out the Pope’s banner and saluted the Lord Deputy with a round shot, which very nearly killed Jacques Wingfield. A small party sallied forth and skirmished with the advanced guard of the English under cover of a heavy fire from musketeers lying in the ditch. The practice was remarkably bad, for the only damage done to the English by more than 600 rounds was to graze Captain Zouch’s leg without breaking the skin. Grey pitched his tent near the fort, and that night a trench was made. The sailors went to work with a will, and two pieces were mounted, which began to play next morning at a distance of about 240 yards from the work. The enemy had mounted their guns so badly that only two seriously annoyed the besiegers. These were disabled by two o’clock; and the garrison were reduced to musketry and to harquebusses which they fired from rests. Every little skirmish went against the Italians, and in spite of four sallies the sappers worked up that night to within 120 yards of the ditch.

The foreigners cannot maintain themselves.

The only serious casualty happened next morning. Good John Cheke, as Grey calls him, was a son of the great scholar, and inherited most scholarlike poverty, although he was Burghley’s nephew. Tired of living as a dependant on his uncle’s favour, and much more in awe of him than of Spanish bullets, he begged a horse from the great Lord Treasurer and resolved to seek his fortune in Ireland. Incautiously raising his head above the trench, he received a fatal wound, and Grey descants at great length upon his edifying end. ‘He made,’ wrote the Puritan warrior to the Queen, ‘so divine a confession of his faith, as all divines in either of your Majesty’s realms could not have passed, if matched, it; so wrought in him God’s spirit, plainly declaring him a child of His elected.’ Grey observed that the fatal volley came from under a wooden penthouse, and pointed out the spot to Winter, who himself laid the guns. The second shot dislodged the musketeers, and at the fourth a flag of truce was shown on the ramparts. The Pope’s banner had first been struck and replaced by a black and a white banner. This was to warn Desmond, who had promised to be on the neighbouring hills with 4,000 men. The furling of the black flag was a first signal of distress; but no help came, and a parley was asked for. Sir James Fitzgerald of Decies had been given by Desmond to the Italians with instructions to exact 1,000l. ransom; he was now brought out and liberated. The camp-master, Alexander Bartoni, a Florentine, then came into the trenches, and said that certain Spaniards and Italians had been lured to Ireland by false representations, that they had no quarrel with Queen Elizabeth, and that they were quite ready to depart as they had come. A Spanish captain followed, but he made no pretence of being sent by his king, or of having communicated with any higher authority than Recalde, the governor of Bilboa. The Florentine said they were all sent by the Pope for the defence of the Catholica fede, and Grey, in true Puritan style, replied that his Holiness was ‘a detestable shaveling, the right Antichrist and general ambitious tyrant over all right principalities, and patron of the diabolica fede.’ All conditions were refused, and in the evening the commandant, Sebastian de San Josefo, a Bolognese, came himself into the trenches and begged for a truce till morning.

The surrender.

The massacre.

The interpreter was Oliver Plunkett, who expected no mercy and therefore opposed all negotiations, and his double-dealing may have caused such confusion as to make it possible to say that the garrison had surrendered on promise of their lives. The strangers may even have thought they had such a promise, but it is clear that Grey’s terms were unconditional surrender or storm as soon as practicable. The unfortunate Sebastian embraced his knees, and promised to evacuate the place unconditionally next morning. Catholic writers accuse San Josefo of cowardice, but he could not help surrendering, for the fort had been heavily battered, and there was no chance of relief. To make assurance doubly sure the English worked all night and mounted two fresh guns before sunrise. On the morrow about a dozen officers came out with their ensigns trailed and surrendered the fort at discretion. Grey distributed them among his officers to be held to ransom for their profit. The arms and stores were secured, ‘and then,’ says Arthegal himself, ‘put I in certain bands, who straight fell to execution. There were 600 slain.’ Hooker adds that Mackworth and Walter Raleigh were the captains on duty, and that they superintended the butchery.[64]

The massacre approved by the Queen.

The poor Italians had no commissions and were treated as filibusters, just as the Spaniards would have treated Drake had they been able to catch him; but many blamed Grey, though he does not himself seem to have been conscious that he had done anything extraordinary. Sussex was among the critics, though he had plenty to answer for himself, but the Queen approved of what had been done. At the top of the despatch sent in answer to the Lord Deputy’s, she wrote as follows, in the fine Roman hand which sometimes contrasts so strangely with her studiously involved and obscure phraseology:—“The mighty hand of the Almighty’s power hath shewed manifest the force of his strength in the weakness of feeblest sex and minds this year to make men ashamed ever after to disdain us, in which action I joy that you have been chose the instrument of his glory which I mean to give you no cause to forethink.” She censured Grey rather for sparing some of the principals than for slaying the accessories; not for what he had done, but for what he had left undone; for the object was to prevent such expeditions in future. Elizabeth, who belonged to her age, probably wondered that anybody should object. Nor does it appear that the Catholic powers made any official complaint; it was their habit to do likewise.

Reflections on the event.

Those who condescended to excuse Grey urged that 600 prisoners would be very inconvenient to an army of 800, and that lack of provisions made delay dangerous. But there were eight ships of war and four provision-vessels in the bay, which might have carried most of the prisoners, and enough biscuit, bacon, oil, fish, rice, beans, peas, and barley were found in the fort to support 600 men for six months. The 4,000 stand of arms taken might easily have been conveyed on shipboard. Between 300l. and 400l. was found in Spanish reals, and this money was divided among the soldiers, who were in their habitual half-paid state. If the Pope recruited for this enterprise, as he did for the former one, among the brigands of Umbria and Samnium, there would be a reason for treating the rank and file rigorously while sparing the officers, but this point is not raised in the official correspondence.

The best defence of Grey, and yet not a very good one, is to be found in the cruelty of the age. After the fall of Haarlem Alva butchered three or four times as many as perished at Smerwick. Santa Cruz put to death the crews of several French ships after the fight at Terceira in the Azores. It would be easy to multiply examples, but it may suffice to say that Captain Mackworth afterwards fell into the hands of the Offaly O’Connors, who mutilated him horribly and flayed him alive.[65]

Reasons for failure of foreign invaders.

The Four Masters say that the name of the Italians exceeded the reality, and that either Limerick, Cork, or Galway would at first have opened their gates to them. This is probable enough, and at any rate Smerwick was a bad place for their enterprise, for it was hardly to be supposed that England would not have the command of the sea. The same mistake was made more than once by the French in later times, and it may be assumed that Ireland is unassailable except by an overwhelming force. The Spaniards at one period, and the French at another, might often have landed an army large enough to overtax the actual resources of the Irish Government. For a time they might have been masters of the country, and would at first have commanded the sympathies of the people. But the rule of a foreign soldiery would soon become more irksome than the old settled government, and the invading general would find as little real native help as Hannibal found in Latium, or as Charles Edward found in Lancashire. Had Limerick, Galway, or Cork admitted Sanders and his Italians the struggle might have been prolonged, but while an English fleet kept the sea, the result could hardly have been doubtful.

Composition of the Smerwick garrison.

The garrison at Smerwick consisted chiefly of Italians, with a contingent from Northern Spain, and the numbers were variously estimated at from 400 to 700. Two hundred are said to have been veteran soldiers, but opinions differed as to the general quality of the men. Grey, when he saw their corpses, mused over them as gallant and goodly personages, while Bingham said they were beggarly rascals. Among the officers were a few Spaniards, but the majority were from Italy: Rome, Florence, Milan, Bologna, Genoa, and Bolsena being all represented.

Executions.

A few Irishmen who had allowed themselves to be entrapped were hanged, and some women with them. An Englishman who followed Dr. Sanders, a friar who is not named, and Oliver Plunkett, were reserved for a peculiarly hard fate. Their arms and legs were broken, and they were hanged on a gallows on the wall of the fort. Plunkett, who was examined before his death, said that twenty-four sail at Corunna and Santander were ready to sail for Ireland. Lord Westmoreland was to be sent over by the Pope, and Charles Browne, at Santander, was in correspondence with Inglefield and others.[66]

Account of Fort Del Oro.

Not only was the extreme point of Kerry a bad place to attack Queen Elizabeth, but the fort itself was ill suited for defence. The only water supply was from streams half-a-mile off on each side, and the work was too small for those whom it had to protect. Its greatest length was 350 feet, and its average breadth was about 100, and 50 square feet of ground to each person is but scanty room. ‘The thing itself,’ says Sir Nicholas White, ‘is but the end of a rock shooting out into the Bay of Smerwick, under a long cape, whereupon a merchant of the Dingle, called Piers Rice, about a year before James Fitzmaurice’s landing, built a castle, under pretence of gaining by the resort of strangers thither a-fishing, whereas in very truth it was to receive James at his landing, and because at that very instant time, a ship laden with Mr. Furbisher’s new-found riches happened to press upon the sands near to the place, whose carcase and stores I saw lie there, carrying also in his mind a golden imagination of the coming of the Spaniards called his building Down-enoyr, which is as much as to say, the “Golden Down.” The ancient name of the bay, Ardcanny... from a certain devout man named Canutius, which upon the height of the cliffs, as appears at this day, built a little hermitage to live a contemplative there.’

White’s description is very good, but it applies only to the little promontory which contains the salient seaward angle of the work, and where embrasures are still clearly traceable. The lines on the land side, which did not exist at the time of White’s visit, are visible enough, being covered with roughish pasture, but the ‘mariner’s trench’ is undecipherable owing to tillage. There was a bridge between the mainland and the outer rock, and Rice’s fortalice was no doubt confined to the ‘island.’[67]

State of Connaught.

In the meantime, O’Rourke had risen and attacked Maltby’s garrison at Leitrim. The President had but 400 English, half of whom were newcomers and ‘simple enough,’ and he had to ferry them over the flooded Shannon in cots. The gentlemen of the county advised him not to face such great odds, but 100 of their kerne behaved well, and he put a bold face on it. The O’Rourkes and their Scots allies railed exceedingly against the Queen and exalted the Pope; but they did not dare to face the dreaded President, and disappeared, leaving him to burn Brefny at his will. Ulick Burke seemed at first inclined to serve faithfully, and Maltby was disposed to trust him, but John and William were in open rebellion, and their youngest sister begged for protection. ‘I pray you,’ she wrote to the President, ‘receive me as a poor, destitute, and fatherless gentlewoman.... I found nowhere aid nor assistance, and no friends since my lord and father departed, but what I found at your worship’s hands.’ A few days later Ulick styled himself MacWilliam, and joined John, who accepted the position of Tanist, in forcibly collecting corn for the papal garrison. They announced that they would hang all priests who refused to say mass, and Maltby reported that the papal Bishop of Kilmacduagh was leading them to the devil headlong. They demolished Loughrea, and most of the castles between the Shannon and Galway Bay. Communications with Munster were interrupted, and Maltby, self-reliant as he was, began to fear for the safety of Galway, where there was no stock of provisions, and no artillery worth mentioning. Affairs were at this pass when Grey’s success at Smerwick reduced the rebellion in Connaught to insignificance.[68]

Want of money.

Grey was not long in Ireland before he encountered the great Elizabethan problem of how to make bricks without straw. Treasurer Wallop estimated the soldiers’ pay at 6,000l. worth, exclusive of extraordinaries, and the victualling difficulties were as great as ever. The English officials in Dublin seldom gave Ormonde a good word, but on this head their complaints chimed in with his. The victualler at Cork warned him not to reckon on more than twelve days’ biscuit and wine, and there were no means of brewing at Cork. ‘I know,’ said the Earl, ‘it is sour speech to speak of money; I know it will be also wondered at how victuals should want.... I never had for me and my companies one hundred pounds worth of victual, and this being true, I can avow that some have told lies at Court to some of your councillors—yea, not only in this, but in many other things.’

‘The soldiers,’ said Sir William Stanley, ‘are so ill chosen in England that few are able or willing to do any service, but run away with our furniture, and when they come into England there is no punishment used to them, by means whereof we can hardly keep any.’

Meantime there were loud complaints of abuses in purveyance for the Viceregal household, and the Irish Council could think of no better plan than to swear the purveyors, and cut off their ears in case of perjury. Wallop reported that bribes were openly taken in official circles; that was the usual course, though he had never given or taken any himself.[69]

Kildare in charge of the Pale.

When Grey went to Munster he left Kildare to act as general in the Pale. With the whole force of the country, and with 1,400 men in the Queen’s pay, including garrisons, he undertook to defend Dublin to the south, and to do some service against the rebels. Six hundred men were on the Ulster frontier, and these also were to be at his disposal in case of necessity. He and his son-in-law, the Baron of Delvin, were accused of conspiring to turn the war to their own advantage, by promising everything and doing nothing. Should the Pope’s title prevail, they would be all-powerful; should the Queen be victorious they would at least make money out of the business. It was arranged that Kildare should have 600 men paid by the country in addition to the Queen’s troops. He preferred to take the money, and to raise 400 kernes himself; ‘but I think,’ said Wallop, ‘he will put all that in his purse and three parts of his entertainment of his horsemen, and fifty shillings a day for his diet. In this town he lieth for the most part, and spendeth not five pounds a week, keeping his chamber with a board not anyways an ell long.’ A civilian named Eustace, ‘properly learned, but a papist in the highest degree,’ was accused of fomenting treason among the nominally loyal, and Gerard, by remaining ‘a secret ghostly father to him for a time,’ made him fear for his own neck, and induced him to give information against many persons in the Pale. Maltby took care to remind the Irish Government that both Kildare and Ormonde had given security for John and Ulick Burke, and that Kildare was the same man that he had always been and always would be. It was plain that those to whom the conduct of the war was entrusted did not care to end it, and that only English officers and soldiers could really be depended on. An occasional raid into the Wicklow mountains did not advance matters much, and Feagh MacHugh was able to burn Rathcoole, a prosperous village ten miles from Dublin, and to make the very suburbs tremble for their own safety. Kildare made light of the burning of Rathcoole, and threw the blame on inferior officers; but this was not the view taken by the Council generally.[70]

Kildare is strongly suspected.

When Grey returned to Dublin he found the whole official circle bent upon disgracing Kildare, and after some days’ consideration he summoned the general body of nobles to meet the Council, ostensibly for the discussion of military dispositions. Delvin saw that he was suspected, and vehemently demanded an enquiry, putting in a written declaration in answer to rumoured accusations. The full Council, including Kildare, found this statement inconsistent with known facts, and committed him to the Castle. Then Gerard, who had conducted the private investigation, rashly disclosed his whole case, and openly accused the Earl of complicity with the treason of Baltinglas. Wallop, who believed that no good thing could come out of Galilee, observed that the Chancellor ‘would needs have the attorney and serjeant by, who are of this country birth, and so were many councillors then present, by means of which it is now in every man’s mouth what the Earl is to be charged with.’

The Vice-Treasurer adds that his lands were worth 3,000l. a year, but that he had taken good care to return them to England as worth only 1,500l., that the only road towards good government lay through severity, and that unless traitors were made to pay both in person and lands, Ireland would always be what it long had been,—‘the sink of the treasure of England.’ Waterhouse, whose office it was to look after unconsidered trifles of revenue, thought the original cause of war was Kildare’s military commission, and that treason should be made to pay its own expenses. ‘I will hear your honour’s opinion,’ he wrote to Walsingham, ‘whether her Majesty will be content to have her great charges answered out of the livings of the conspirators, and to use a sharp and a severe course without respect of any man’s greatness, wheresoever law will catch hold, or whether all faults must be lapped up in lenity with pardons, protections, and fair semblance, as in times past; if severity, then is there hope enough of good reformation; if mildness, then discharge the army and officers, and leave this nation to themselves, for sure the mean will do no good. We must embrace one of these extremities.’[71]

Kildare and Delvin prisoners in England.

Grey could not deny that appearances were strong against the Earl, and he ordered his arrest, giving full credit for their exertions to Gerard and Loftus. He believed that ‘greediness of pay and arrogant zeal to Popish government’ were the stumbling-blocks of great personages in Ireland, and that Delvin certainly was ‘a wicked creature who had cut the poor Earl’s throat.’ As if to add to the suspicion, Kildare’s son and heir ran off to the O’Connors, and they refused to let him go when Grey sent for him. At last, fearing the construction that might be put upon this, they handed him over to Ormonde, and he was shut up in the Castle with his father and Lord Delvin. All three were sent over to England, Secretary Fenton carrying the despatches, and Gerard going with him to tell his own story.[72]

The Munster rebellion drags on.

The capture of Smerwick did not put down the Munster rebellion; but Ormonde, or some of those about him, contemptuously reported that Desmond, his brother, and Baltinglas had ‘but a company of rascals and four Spaniards, and a drum to make men believe that they had a great number of the strangers.’ Both Youghal and Ross thought themselves in danger, and Wallop reported that communications between the capital and Limerick were only kept up by ‘simple fellows that pass afoot in nature of beggars, in wages not accustomed.’ Grey and Ormonde having turned their backs, Desmond appeared again near Dingle, and Bingham felt that there might be an attack at any moment. Half of Captain Zouch’s men were dead and buried, the survivors being too ill to work or fight. Captain Case’s company were little better, and they would have made no resistance without Bingham and his sailors, who worked with a will and raised a breastwork tenable by 20 men against 2,000 kernes and gallowglasses. The men were put on short allowance, and having thus made the provisions last thirteen days longer than they would otherwise have done, Bingham was compelled to return to England. His crew were so reduced by spare diet that they were unable to work the ship up Channel, and had to run into Bristol. He left Ireland, to quote a correspondent of Walsingham, ‘in as great confusion as the Tower of Babylon was a building.’ There were more soldiers in Munster than had been since the first conquest, and war material was abundant. But no two officers agreed with each other personally, or were agreed upon the policy to be pursued. Ormonde was in Dublin, looking after his own interests, and leaving his lieutenants to shift for themselves. Sir Warham St. Leger, Chief Commissioner at Cork, claimed superiority over Sir George Bourchier at Kilmallock, while the latter acted as a captain of free lances and granted protections to whom he pleased. Sir William Morgan at Youghal would give way to neither, and there seemed no escape from the difficulty but once more to appoint an English President, ‘upright, valiant, severe, and wise.’ In the meantime the rebellion was as strong as ever, and what the rebels spared the soldiers ravaged. In Connaught the young Burkes daily razed houses and fences, northern Leinster lay waste, in Munster nothing was left standing save towns and cities, and Ulster was ready to break out on the smallest provocation.[73]

Official attack upon Ormonde.

The English officials all maintained that Ormonde had shown himself unfit to conduct the war. One writer estimates his emoluments at 215l. a month, and another at 3,677l. a year, and the first result of a peace would be to deprive him of these comfortable subsidies. He was mixed up with Irish families and Irish lawsuits, and could not have a single eye to the public service. He owed the Queen over 3,000l. in rents, and the war was an excuse for not paying. Nor was his system of warfare calculated to finish a rebellion, for all experienced officers said that could be done only by settled garrisons. ‘He followeth,’ says his enemy St. Leger, ‘with a running host, which is to no end but only wearing out and consuming of men by travel, for I can compare the difference between our footmen and the traitors to a mastiff and wight greyhound.’ According to the same authority Ormonde was generally disliked, and those whom he was set over would ‘rather be hanged than follow him, finding their travel and great pains altogether in vain.’ He procured the imprisonment of the Baron of Upper Ossory, whom he accused of treason, of harbouring papists and consorting with rebels, and of meeting Desmond after he had been proclaimed; but Wallop thought the Earl coveted his neighbour’s land, being ‘so imperious as he can abide none near him that dependeth not on him.’ Spenser’s friend Ludovic Bryskett said the Lord General did nothing of moment with his 2,000 men, and as for his toil and travel, ‘the noble gentleman was worthy of pity to take so much labour in vain.’ Wallop, Waterhouse, Fenton, and St. Leger agreed that Ireland could only be pacified by severity, and that Ormonde was not the man to do it. But perhaps the heaviest, as it is certainly the most graphic, indictment was that which Captain Raleigh forwarded to Walsingham.[74]

Adventures of Raleigh.

Lord Barrymore’s eldest son David, Lord Roche’s eldest son Maurice, Florence MacCarthy, Patrick Condon, and others, long professed loyalty because it seemed the winning side. But Barry’s country lay open to the seneschal of Imokilly, and in passing through it Raleigh had an adventure by which the world was near losing some of its brightest memories. On his return from Dublin, and having at the time only two followers with him and as many more within shot, he was attacked at a ford by the seneschal with seventy-four men. The place seems to have been Midleton or Ballinacurra, and Raleigh’s aim was to gain an old castle, which may have been Ballivodig, to which his Irish guide at once fled. In crossing the river Henry Moile was unhorsed, and begged his captain not to desert him. Raleigh rode back into the river, and recovered both man and horse; but in his hurry to remount, Moile fell into a bog on the off side, while his horse ran away to the enemy. ‘The captain nevertheless stood still, and did abide for the coming of the residue of his company, of the four shot which as yet were not come forth, and for his man Jenkin, who had about 200l. in money about him; and sat upon his horse in the meanwhile, having his staff in one hand, and his pistol charged in the other.’ Like an Homeric hero he kept the seneschal’s whole party at bay, although they were twenty to one. Raleigh modestly left the details to others, and only reported that the escape was strange to all.[75]

Raleigh’s policy.

Two days later David Barry was in open rebellion, and Raleigh minded to take possession of Barry’s Court and of the adjoining island—the ‘great island’ on which Queenstown now stands. He had been granted the custody of these lands by Grey, but Ormonde interposed delays, and Raleigh, who was as fond of property as he was careless of danger, greatly resented this. ‘When,’ he said, ‘my Lord Deputy came, and Barry had burned all the rest, the Lord General, either meaning to keep it for himself—as I think all is too little for him—or else unwilling any Englishman should have anything, stayed the taking thereof so long, meaning to put a guard of his own in it, as it is, with the rest, defaced and spoiled. I pray God her Majesty do not find, that—with the defence of his own country assaulted on all sides, what with the bearing and forbearing of his kindred, as all these traitors of this new rebellion are his own cousins-german, what by reason of the incomparable hatred between him and the Geraldines, who will die a thousand deaths, enter into a million of mischiefs, and seek succour of all nations, rather than they will ever be subdued by a Butler—that after her Majesty hath spent a hundred thousand pounds more she shall at last be driven by too dear experience to send an English President to follow these malicious traitors with fire and sword, neither respecting the alliance nor the nation.... This man having been Lord General of Munster now about two years, there are at this instant a thousand traitors more than there were the first day. Would God the service of Sir Humfry Gilbert might be rightly looked into; who, with the third part of the garrison now in Ireland, ended a rebellion not much inferior to this in two months.’ A little later, Raleigh reported that he had repaired Belvelly Castle, which commands the strait between the island and the mainland, but that Ormonde meant to rob him of the fruits of his trouble and expense, and to undo what he had done. The soldiers, he declared, cursed the change which made them followers of the Earl rather than of the Lord Deputy, and spent their strength in ‘posting journeys’ with convoys to Kilkenny instead of in service against the rebels.[76]

Ormonde loses his command.

Grey yielded to the arguments of those about him, and announced that there was no help while Irish government and Ormonde were continued, adding that neither Walsingham nor Leicester would believe it. Leicester at least, who corresponded frequently with Maltby, was quite willing to believe anything against their common enemy, and it may be that the present favourite prevailed over the absent friend. At all events the Queen yielded, and Grey was allowed to tell Ormonde that his authority as Lord Lieutenant of Munster was at an end. The Earl submitted cheerfully and with many loyal expressions, saying that he would do such service without pay as would prove him no hireling. His property, he declared, was wasted in her Majesty’s service and the loss of salary would be therefore great, but to lose his sovereign’s favour and to be traduced in England was far worse. There was now a disposition in high quarters to grant pardons freely; had he known it he could have brought in every man in Munster.

He had thought nothing worth notifying while Desmond was still at large, but he would now make a collection of his services, and the Queen should see that he had not been inactive, and that his activity had not been fruitless. In private he had confessed to having borne too long with some for old acquaintance’ sake; but blamed Sussex for forgetting his friends, and could not excuse Captain Zouch, who by sickness had lost 300 men out of 450. Walsingham, in a moment of irritation, had said that his appointment had resulted in the death of only three rebels. Three thousand would be nearer the mark, and that he was ready to prove.[77]

An amnesty.

The dismissal of Ormonde was intended by Grey and those about him to form part of a policy of the severest and most unsparing repression, and it was assumed that Gilbert, or some equally uncompromising person, would be appointed President. The Queen, on the other hand, considered it merely as a piece of economy, for she determined at the same time to grant a general pardon, or as the Lord Deputy despairingly put it, to ‘leave the Irish to tumble to their own sensual government.’ It was the easiest way perhaps for a Lord Deputy; but he had a conscience, and could not see it with equanimity. A considerable number were excepted by name, but even on these terms a proclamation of amnesty was a confession of failure. The news leaked out prematurely through the treachery of a servant, and the rebels bragged loudly of the revenge they would have when their past offences had been condoned.

Grey’s despair.

The change of policy did not prevent Maltby from executing Clanricarde’s son William, and he reported to Walsingham the opinion of an ancient Irish counsellor that her Majesty was only casting pearls before swine. Desmond still had 1,600 able men with him, and a brilliant night attack by Zouch on his camp, though it was made much of, had no particular result. As to Leinster, Grey reported it generally rebellious; but the bogs and woods were far smaller than in Munster, and the remains of castles showed that Wexford and Carlow at least, with the flatter portions of Wicklow, had formerly been well bridled. The object of the rebels was to have no stronghold, for the open country would be always at their mercy. As the Lord Deputy’s train passed through Wicklow the O’Byrnes showed themselves on the hills and even cut off some plate-waggons; but he made his way to Wexford, where he hanged some malefactors, and garrisoned Arklow, Castle Kevin, and other places. Grey felt he had done nothing worth speaking of, and begged earnestly for a recall, since he had been overruled in opposing the amnesty as ‘not standing with the reason which he had conceived for her Majesty’s service.’ Sheer severity, was in fact, all he had to recommend, for ‘fear, and not dandling, must bring them to the bias of obedience... it is a pity that the resolutions in England should be so uncertain.... If taking of cows, killing of their kerne and churls, had been thought worth the advertising, I could have had every day to trouble your Highness.... He that to-day seems a dutiful subject, let him for any of those, or for other less crimes be to-morrow called upon to come and answer, straightway a protection is demanded and in the mean he will be upon his keeping, which in plain English is none other than a traitor that will forcibly defend his cause and not answer to justice.... Beggars fall to pride, rail at your Majesty, and rely only upon the Pope, and that changes shall in the end free them.[78]

Death of Sanders.

Just before Ormonde’s dismissal became known, his enemy, Sir Warham St. Leger, told Burghley that he lost twenty Englishmen killed for every one of the rebels. But famine and disease succeeded where the sword failed, and in the same letter St. Leger was able to announce that Dr. Sanders had died of dysentery. For two months the secret had been kept, his partisans giving out that he had gone to Spain for help; but at last one of the women who had clothed him in his winding-sheet brought the news to Sir Thomas of Desmond. Since the fall of Fort Del Oro, he had scarcely been heard of, and had spent his time miserably in the woods on the border of Cork and Limerick. Some English accounts say that he was out of his mind, but of this there does not seem to be any proof. All agree that he died in the wood of Clonlish, and it seems that he was buried in a neighbouring church. His companion at the last was Cornelius Ryan, the papal bishop of Killaloe, and according to O’Sullivan—who had evidently himself good means of knowing the truth—the following scene took place:—

‘In the beginning of the night, Dr. Sanders, whose naturally strong frame was worn out by dysentery, thus addressed the Bishop of Killaloe,—“Anoint me, illustrious lord, with extreme unction, for my Creator calls me, and I shall die to-night.” “You are strong,” answered the bishop, “and your case is not bad, and I think there will be no dying or anointing just now.” Nevertheless, he grew worse, and was anointed at midnight, and at cockcrow resigned his spirit to the Lord, and the following night he was secretly buried by priests, and borne to the grave by four Irish knights, of which my father, Dermot, was one. Others were forbidden to attend, lest the English should find the body, and make their usual cruel spectacle of the dead.’

What he did for Ireland.

Sanders had been three years in Ireland. He had brought upon the country only bloodshed, famine, and confiscation, and yet among the starving people, none could be found to earn a reward by betraying him.[79]

FOOTNOTES:

[51] Lord Grey’s instructions, July 15, 1580, are printed in Desiderata Curiosa Hibernica.

[52] Gerard, C., to Burghley, July 29 and August 3, 1580, to Walsingham, August 3 (with enclosures); to Wallop, August 7; Lord Deputy Grey and Council to the Privy Council, August 14; Zouch and Stanley to Walsingham, July 29; Pelham to Gerard, July 30, in Carew.

[53] Four Masters: Stanley to Walsingham, August 31, 1580.

[54] George Carew to Walsingham, November 20, 1580. For the defeat in Glenmalure, see Stanley, Maltby, and Gerard to Walsingham, August 31 Grey to Walsingham, August 31; to Burghley, September 12; Wallop to Walsingham, September 9; Hooker; Four Masters, 1580; Camden, who exaggerates the loss; O’Sullivan, ii. iv. 14, who ridiculously estimates the slain at 800.

[55] Maltby to Leicester and Walsingham, August 17; the former in Carew; Gerard to Walsingham, August 14.

[56] Hugh Magennis to Grey, August 29, 1580; Dungannon and Sir Hugh O’Reilly to Grey, September 3; Gormanston to Grey, September 4; Sir N. Bagenal to Grey, September 2; Mr. John Barnes to Grey (from Disert), September 4; Nathaniel Smith to Maltby, September 3; Maltby to Walsingham, September 7 and 8.

[57] Pelham to the Privy Council, July 14, 1580; to the Irish Council, July 22; to Winter, August 16, all in Carew. Instructions to Sir William Winter, March 17; and considerations which moved him, September 23; Sir R. Bingham to Walsingham, September 20; Baron of Lixnaw to the Munster Commissioners, September 15.

[58] The correspondence about Sidee is between March 19 and 21, 1580; Winter to the Privy Council, April 27; Notes for the Privy Council, May 14.

[59] Examination of William Carusse, August 12, 1580; Viscount Gormanston to Gerard, July 28.

[60] Grey to the Queen, October 5, 1580; Bingham to Walsingham, September 20 and October 18; and to Leicester same date in Carew; James Golde and Thomas Arthur to Wallop and Waterhouse, September 30; Commons of Lixnaw to same, September 27; Thomas Clinton to the Attorney of Munster, September 26.

[61] Ormonde to R. Shee, October 8, 1580, to an unnamed correspondent, Nov. (No. 71), to the Conde ‘the Lemes’ (? De Lerma) October 31.

[62] Captain R. Bingham to Walsingham, October 13, 18, and 23, 1580; to Leicester, October 18, in Carew.

[63] Hooker; Grey to the Queen, November 12, 1580; Bingham to Walsingham, November 3.

[64] Strype’s Life of Cheke, ch. vi. Bingham to Leicester, November 11, 1580, in Wright’s Elizabeth; to Walsingham, November 12; Grey to the Queen and to Walsingham, November 12; Anonymous to Walsingham, November (No. 27). Bingham says the confusion and slaughter were increased by the sailors who swarmed in over the sea-face of the fort, but Grey makes no excuse. See also G. Fenton to Walsingham, November 14, Hooker, Camden, and Spenser’s State of Ireland. The poet expressly says that he was present. All the above agree that Grey made no promise, and the Four Masters do not materially contradict the English writers, for their ‘promise of protection’ may only refer to the negotiations. O’Daly and O’Sullivan, whose accounts seem to have been drawn from the same source, and very probably from Sanders, accuse Grey of bad faith; but they also say the siege lasted forty days, and that the English had recourse to fraud because force had failed. Now it is certain that only one clear day elapsed between the turning of the first sod and the surrender of the fort. Graia fides became a by-word in Catholic Europe, but that would be a matter of course, and it is a pity that so great a scholar as O’Donovan should give implicit faith to rumour, while scouting as ‘mere fiction’ the solemn statement of such an eye witness as Edmund Spenser.

[65] The Queen to Grey, December 12, 1580; Anonymous to Walsingham, November (No. 27); Dowling ad ann. 1583; Maltby to Leicester, May 28, 1582. The chronology of the Smerwick affair is as follows: Friday, November 4, fleet enters Ventry harbour; 5th, moves to Smerwick; 6th, reconnoitring; 7th, Grey shifts camp from Dingle and opens trenches; 8th, battery opens; 9th, battery continued and surrender agreed upon at night; 10th, the foreign officers come out, and their men are massacred.

[66] The above details are in the letter of November 11 and 12, already cited; the examination of Plunkett in a letter of the latter date from Grey to Walsingham.

[67] Sir N. White to Burghley, July 22, 1580. I have heard that Mr. Hennessy interprets ‘Ard canny’ as ‘hill of Arbutus,’ and without reference to any saint. There is a contemporary map of Fort del oro in the Record Office, which seems correct, and it is printed on a reduced scale in the Kerry Magazine. I inspected the place and took measurements in June 1883. Dun-an oir is the ‘earthwork of gold.’ Poor Frobisher’s gold was pyrites, as the London goldsmiths knew, but an Italian alchemist was believed. The ‘carcase’ mentioned by White was that of the ship, not of the owner.

[68] Lady Honora Burke to Maltby, October 29, 1580; Maltby to Walsingham, October 25, October 27, and November 17; Gerard to Burghley, November 27; Four Masters.

[69] Ormonde to Walsingham and to Burghley, September 28, 1580; J. Thickpenny to Ormonde, September 27; Stanley to Walsingham, October 2; order by the Lord Deputy and Council, October 3; Wallop to Walsingham, November 12.

[70] Wallop to Walsingham, October 9 and 25, and November 27; to Burghley, November 11, 1580; Waterhouse to Walsingham, October 13; Lord Chancellor and Council to the Privy Council, November 3; Gerard to Burghley, October 18; Captain R. Pypho to Walsingham, November 9; Kildare to Walsingham, December 10. Writing to Wallop, on November 17, Maltby says of Kildare, ‘sicut erat in principio et tel il sera toute sa vie.’ The letter is a queer mixture of Latin, French, and cypher.

[71] Wallop and Waterhouse to Walsingham, December 23, 1580.

[72] Grey to the Queen, December 22, 1580; Lord Deputy and Council to the Queen, December 23; Wallop to Walsingham, December 30; White, M.R., to Burghley, February 2, 1581.

[73] James Sherlock, Mayor of Waterford to Walsingham, November 18, 1580, with the enclosures; Wallop to Walsingham, November 30; Bingham to Walsingham, December 12 and January 9; John Myagh to Walsingham, January 26, 1581; White, M.R., to Burghley, February 2.

[74] Notes of Ormonde’s entertainments December, 1580 (No. 45); Wallop to Walsingham, January 14, 1581; to Burghley, May 13; L. Bryskett to Walsingham, April 21; St. Leger to Burghley, June 3. See also ‘Observations on the Earl of Ormonde’s government,’ drawn up probably by Maltby and St. Leger, and calendared in Carew at March 1582. For Ormonde’s quarrel with Upper Ossory see his letter to Walsingham, July 21, 1580; and to Grey, August 28; and Waterhouse to Walsingham, August 13. King Edward’s old playfellow was six months in prison, and his lands at the mercy of the Butlers. He earnestly desired a trial, adding that his enemy’s hands were perhaps less clean than his; see his letter to Leicester of June 7, 1581, in Carew.

[75] Captain W. Rawley to Burghley, Feb. 23, 1581; Hooker in Holinshed.

[76] Raleigh to Walsingham, February 25, 1581; to Grey, May 1.

[77] Grey to Leicester, March 20, 1581; to Walsingham, May 12, June 9; to the Privy Council, June 10; Wallop and Waterhouse to Walsingham, June 10; Ormonde to Burghley, July 15.

[78] Grey to the Queen, April 26, 1581; to Walsingham, May 14; to the Privy Council, June 10 and July 10; Zouch to Walsingham, June 15; Maltby to Walsingham, June 30; Lord Grey’s services, September, 1582.

[79] St. Leger to Burghley, June 3, 1581; where it appears that Sanders died about the beginning of April; O’Sullivan, lib. iv. cap. 16; Four Masters, 1581; Camden; Hooker; Holing, S.J., in Spicilegium Ossoriense, i. 94.

[CHAPTER XXXIX.]

THE DESMOND WAR—FINAL STAGE, 1581-1583.

Exceptions from the amnesty.

Desmond, his brother John, and Baltinglas were excepted by the Queen from the general pardon. Grey himself made several further exceptions, not, as he explained, that he wished to remove the hope of mercy, but only that he did not think them cases for pardon without further inquiry. Lady Desmond was excepted, as having encouraged the rebels to persevere, and as having remained with them rather than live under protection. David Barry, to whom Lord Barrymore had conveyed his lands, and Baltinglas’s brothers, Edmund and Walter, who were heirs-presumptive to his entailed property, were excepted, not only as important rebels, but lest the Queen should lose the escheats. Feagh MacHugh O’Byrne, ‘the minister of all wickedness in Leinster,’ refused a pardon unless a like were granted to Desmond and his brother, and unless ‘religion might be at liberty.’ Several other rebels or plotters were excepted, among whom it is only necessary to mention William Nugent, Lord Delvin’s brother, who had become the leader of a separate conspiracy. Perhaps Grey’s additions to the list of those whom Elizabeth thought unfit for pardon may have wrecked the whole scheme. July 17 was fixed as the last day for the rebels to come in, and up to that date very few penitents appeared.[80]

Conspirators welcome the amnesty.

While notorious offenders abstained from taking advantage of the Queen’s clemency, it was noticed that many inhabitants of the Pale, against whom nothing was known, were eager to accept the pardon. As early as 1575 William Nugent had fallen under the suspicion of the Government, and was supposed to have an understanding with Baltinglas from the first. He eluded capture during the winter of 1580, and in March 1581 it was announced that he had conspired with some 300 of the O’Connors and MacCoghlans to raise an insurrection. A few weeks later he fled to Tirlogh Luineach O’Neill, who flatly refused to surrender him to the Lord Deputy, when he appeared in person at the Blackwater. In the autumn Nugent was back in the Pale, and suing for mercy; but he got no encouragement, and added to the weight of his offence by helping the mountain rebels to harry some of the Archbishop of Dublin’s property. When Baltinglas fled a month or two later, he made his way back to Ulster, and thence to Scotland and the Continent. A very large number of his friends and neighbours were more or less implicated, and it is easy to see why so many gentlemen of the Pale were anxious to cover themselves by accepting a pardon.[81]

Maltby in Connaught.

Clanricarde was in confinement at the time of the Smerwick affair, and it is doubtful how far he had the power to influence his sons. He persuaded the younger, William, to ask for protection, but could not make him observe the implied conditions. Maltby granted it only with a view of weakening the two elder brothers. In the meantime, and no doubt having an understanding with the Earl’s sons, 600 well-armed Scots invaded the province. They were to be paid at the rate of 4,200l. a quarter, and it was supposed that their presence would turn the scale in favour of Richard-in-Iron, Grace O’Malley’s husband, who claimed to be Lower MacWilliam by popular election only, and against Richard MacOliver, who had been made tanist by the Queen. John Burke took advantage of the occasion to plan an attack on the O’Kellies, and the Scots encamped near Shrule, where they engaged to meet the Burkes on the 1st of March. Three days before the appointed time, Maltby made his appearance. Richard-in-Iron, who had advanced within ten miles of Shrule, at once drew back into Mayo, and the Clanricarde Burkes, hearing of the President’s movements, never stirred at all. The Scots were surprised, and Maltby, after killing a few, drove them before him to the Moy. They crossed the river, and he followed, but they made good their retreat into Ulster. The President then recrossed, and at Strade Abbey the two competitors for the chiefry of Mayo met him. They were both submissive enough to Maltby, but not at all polite to each other. Richard MacOliver said Richard-in-Iron was a traitor, that all those who elected him were traitors, and that he himself would refuse to be MacWilliam, except by the Queen’s appointment. The other told him he lied, and the President had to remind them that this was very improper language to use in the presence of the Queen’s representative. It was agreed that Richard-in-Iron should be MacWilliam, and that MacOliver should be sheriff of Mayo, receiving 40l. a year out of the chief-rent of his barony of Tyrawley.[82]

Clanricarde’s son hanged.

About three months later William Burke, though he was under protection, took to plundering people on the highway, and had even the audacity to offer their goods for sale at Galway. He behaved so outrageously that the townsmen laid hands on him. Nine of his men were executed by martial law, and Maltby held special sessions for the trial of the chief offender. The Grand Jury found a bill for treason, and the prisoner was then tried and convicted. The verdict was considered proof of Burke having violated his protection. The Irish annalists insinuate a breach of faith; but even a free pardon would not save a subject from the consequence of acts done after its date, and Maltby seems to have been legally justified. He refused 1,000l. for the prisoner’s life, and a like sum for that of Tirlogh O’Brien, a noted rebel who was executed two days before.[83]

John of Desmond is slain.

More than a year had passed since the capture of Smerwick, an amnesty had been proclaimed, and yet the end of the rebellion seemed no nearer. On January 2 a spy came to Zouch at Cork to tell him that David Barry was at Castle Lyons and might easily be taken. The Governor waited till nine o’clock at night, and then set out with a hundred men, of whom one-half were mounted. Arriving at the castle at daybreak, he found that Barry had not arrived; but in the immediate neighbourhood he lighted accidentally upon John of Desmond with three companions. He had been sent by his brother the Earl, who himself lay north of the Blackwater, to compose a quarrel between Barry and the seneschal of Imokilly. So little danger was dreamed of that Sir John and his friends rode on ponies and without defensive armour. Patrick Condon, a noted leader, and another managed to escape, but Sir John was run through with a spear and also shot in the throat by one Fleming, who had formerly been his servant. James Fitzjohn of Strancally, a cousin of Desmond, was taken prisoner. Sir John only survived a few minutes, but he was able to say that had he lived longer he would have done more mischief, and that Henry Davells was never his friend. His body was sent to Cork and hung in chains over one of the gates for three or four years, when a great storm blew it into the river. The head was sent to Dublin as a ‘New Year’s gift’ for Grey, and stuck upon a pole on the castle wall. James Fitzjohn was executed, having first confessed that the Earl was in a sad plight, and lived only by eating at night the cows that he had killed in the day. A turquoise set in gold was found upon Sir John and was sent to the Queen; his agnus dei, with its glass and gold frame, was transmitted to the Earl of Bedford. Having been designated as his successor by James Fitzmaurice, who had the Pope’s authority for so doing, John of Desmond was acknowledged as the Catholic leader, and his death was of considerable importance. He was a man of ability, and the only person fit to manage the turbulent chiefs who had never served, and who could therefore never command.[84]

Ill-timed parsimony.

The rebellion had received a great blow, and if it had been followed up promptly all would soon have been over. But the Queen immediately ordered the discharge of 700 men, making the second reduction of the forces within three months. Zouch had now only 400 men at his disposal, and disasters of course followed. In March James Fenton, the secretary’s brother, who had succeeded Captain Apsley in West Cork, crossed over from Berehaven with the intention of provisioning Bantry Abbey, where he expected to find some of his men. David Barry, with a strong party, had already cut the detachment to pieces, and lay hidden in the building till the first boat landed. The unsuspecting soldiers were all killed. Fenton, who followed in another boat, turned back when he discovered what had happened. The Irish gave chase, but night favoured the fugitive, who landed in the darkness, and after three days’ ‘cold entertainment on the rocks,’ scrambled back to his castle, badly bruised and very hungry, but unwounded.[85]

Indecisive skirmishes.

Zouch presses Desmond hard.

In April the Baron of Lixnaw joined the rebels, and the soldiers in Kerry narrowly escaped annihilation. Captain Acham and a score of men were killed and the rest closely shut up in Ardfert Abbey, where they daily expected to be overwhelmed. The presence of a Spanish vessel may have determined the action of the Fitzmaurices. There had been a similar visitor before the descent at Smerwick, and it was thought that another and stronger force was about to fortify one of the islands off Baltimore or Castlehaven. Zouch had, however, the satisfaction of taking his revenge on David Barry. Led by John FitzEdmond of Cloyne, a noted loyalist, he surprised Barry in a wood near the Blackwater, and killed nearly 100 of his men. The defeated chief sued for protection, and Zouch granted it until his return from Kerry, whither he immediately hurried, and succeeded in relieving the beleaguered men at Ardfert. He then went to the glen of Aherlow, where Desmond himself lay. The rebels were so hard pressed that Lady Desmond took to the mountains, leaving her baggage and female attendants to be captured. Zouch’s foot could not come up in time, and nothing decisive was done. Zouch took it on himself to offer the Earl life and liberty, but he demanded the restoration of all his lands and possessions. Lady Desmond, however, went to Dublin and surrendered to Grey.[86]

Lady Desmond surrenders.

Savage warfare.

Desmond’s heir.

Lady Desmond’s desertion of her husband was justly considered as a sign that he was becoming weaker, but the immediate effect was to make him freer in his movements. He plundered and devastated the whole of Tipperary, and descended the valley of the Suir almost to Waterford. At Knockgraffon, near Cahir, he defeated Ormonde’s three brothers in a fair fight, though the Butlers had greatly the superior force. In Kerry he was not opposed at all. The seneschal of Imokilly had the eastern part of Cork and the western part of Waterford at his mercy, and the estates of Lord Roche were so completely depopulated that settlers had afterwards to be brought from a distance. The style of warfare may be guessed from the Irish annalists, who remark that when Grace MacBrien, the wife of Theobald Roche, ‘saw her husband mangled, and mutilated, and disfigured, she shrieked extremely and dreadfully, so that she died that night alongside the body of her husband, and both were buried together.’ There were but fourteen men fit to bear arms left alive in the whole district round Fermoy. Ormonde’s own house at Carrick was plundered by the seneschal. On the whole it was thought that the time had not come to show mercy to important rebels, and the Queen ordered that Lady Desmond should be sent back to her husband, unless she could induce him to surrender unconditionally. Her only son, as she wrote to Burghley, ‘remained in the castle of Dublin, without any kind of learning or bringing up, or any to attend on him,’ and she begged that he might be sent to England as ‘the lesser evil of the two.’[87]

Grey is recalled.

However much the Queen may have been to blame, it was clear that Grey had not been a successful governor, and Burghley had formed a bad opinion of his capacity. He had begun with the disaster at Glenmalure, and his bloody success at Smerwick had not added much to his reputation. Sheer severity was his great resource, and he had made enemies on all sides. Yet Sidney had been severe enough, and even the children in the streets clamoured for his return. ‘Where,’ said Secretary Fenton, ‘there is so great an antipathy and dissimilitude of humour and manners between a people and their governor, then the government cannot be carried in just rule and frame no more than a wound can be healed which is plied with medicine contrary to its proper cure.’ The Queen had accused her most successful lieutenant of extravagance, but she found his successor more costly still, and she resolved to recall him. There was no great difficulty about this, for he had very often begged to be relieved, but it was feared that a bad impression would be made in Ireland. Elizabeth therefore determined to send for him under the guise of a conference. This resolution was quickly acted upon, and Grey surrendered the sword to Wallop and Loftus.[88]

Causes of Grey’s failure.

The famine in Munster.

The governor of a dependency will always be in some measure judged by the state in which he leaves the country that he has been called to rule, and, tried by this standard, not much can be said for Grey. The friend and hero of Spenser was called, as the poet himself records, ‘a bloody man, who regarded not the life of her Majesty’s subjects no more than dogs, but had wasted and consumed all, so as now she had nothing almost left, but to reign in their ashes.’ Sir Warham St. Leger, who certainly cannot be suspected of any great sympathy with the Irish people, and who was not hostile to Grey, has left a terrible picture of the state of Munster. The country was ruined almost past recovery by the ruthless exaction of cess, and by the extortions of the soldiers. 30,000 at least had perished by famine within six months, and disease also was doing its work. Cork was then a small town, consisting of one street scarce a furlong in length, yet there were sometimes seventy deaths in a day and very seldom as few as twenty. John FitzEdmond of Cloyne, one of the few really loyal men in the province, had lost nineteen-twentieths of his people, and the cattle, which could never graze in safety, were as lean as their masters. The only inhabitants in tolerable case were the actual rebels, who took freely all men’s goods and escaped disease ‘by enjoying continually the wholesome air of the fields.’ And this was Grey’s settled policy. Five counties were to be laid waste, in order that the traitors might be starved into submission. ‘I have,’ St. Leger said, ‘often told the Governor that this is far wide from the true course of government,’ for the towns would waste away, the revenues dwindle, and the whole country be exhausted by such a frightful drain. Nevertheless, the destruction was nearly as complete as it could be. Nine-tenths of the men had succumbed to the sword, the halter, or the pestilence. The women escaped better, but, taking one thing with another, a competent observer thought there were not enough people left alive to cultivate one hundredth part of the land. But the most harrowing account of all is the oft-quoted passage of Spenser, though the poet lays the blame on the people and not on their ruler. At the beginning of the war, he says, Munster was full of corn and cattle. Eighteen months had destroyed all. Lean as were the starving people, their legs would not bear them, and they crawled out of caves and glens to feed on carrion, or, like ghouls, to scrape the dead from their graves, ‘and if they found a plot of watercresses or shamrocks, there they flocked as to a feast for a time, yet not able long to continue therewithal, so that in short space there were none almost left, and a most populous and plentiful country suddenly left void of man or beast; yet sure in all that was there perished not many by the sword, but all by the extremity of famine which they themselves had wrought.’[89]

Rising of William Nugent.

A chief justice executed.

If Grey was unsuccessful in dealing with Munster, he had at least driven Baltinglas to Spain and crushed the abortive rising of William Nugent. Seven persons were executed on account of one, and six on account of the other movement. Of those who suffered, the most remarkable was Nicholas Nugent, late Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, who was perhaps actuated by discontent at being removed from his place. He was uncle to Delvin and his rebellious brother, and the mode of his conviction must have added much to the hatred which was generally felt for Grey. Privy Councillors were joined in commission with the ordinary judges, ‘and with them,’ said the Lord Deputy, ‘I went in person, and sat upon the bench, to see justice more equally ministered.’ The evidence against Nugent and against Edward Cusack, who was tried at the same time, was almost wholly that of an informer, John Cusack, who had been one of the most active conspirators. Grey blames the prisoners for audaciously casting doubts on the evidence of ‘this double-dyed traitor. A verdict was, however, secured, some of the jurors knowing in their private consciences that the prisoners were far from that innocency that they pretended.’ Nugent appears to have died protesting his innocence, though he made private admissions to some officials which perhaps went to show that he was technically guilty of treason. But these admissions were not made until after his conviction, nor in open court at all. Baron Cusack, and perhaps another judge, was against the verdict. It is to be feared that the extreme severity shown was rather because Nugent was a troublesome person than for anything actually rebellious that he had done. Formerly, when a Baron of the Exchequer, he had opposed the cess, and had been removed from the bench by Sidney. Gerard restored him to a higher place, and from this he was driven by Grey.[90]

Sufferings of Nugent and his wife.

William Nugent himself underwent the utmost misery. He lay in the fields without covering at night, and his friends were afraid to attract attention by bringing him as much canvas as would make a shelter-tent. His wife—the Janet Marward, whose abduction has been already related—was with her mother, Mrs. Nicholas Nugent, but his two boys were in his own keeping. Nicholas Nugent might have made his peace with the Government had he been able to get hold of the eldest; but William said the brother, wife, and child were over many hostages. Give him back his wife, and the children should be sent in exchange. The poor mother, who was half-crazed with her troubles, supported her stepfather’s request that the child should be given up, in hopes, probably, that she might thus see him. All the while John Cusack was the active agent who swore in confederates for the ‘holy cause,’ and took the lead generally. William ultimately escaped to Scotland, and thence to Italy, and his wife, after some delay, was allowed to receive the profits of her own property. Ormonde warmly supported her cause, and reminded Burghley that she had been married by force. The only charge against her was that she had sent some shirts to her destitute husband, but she was imprisoned for a whole year. ‘If any fault were,’ it was urged on the Lord Treasurer, ‘the dutiful love of a wife to a husband in that extremity may, I trust, procure some remorse towards her in your Lordship’s honourable opinion.’ The desire of the informers to get her land probably caused the harsh treatment. She was at one time on the point of starvation, and yet was accused of offering a bribe for her own safety, and fined 500l. She had, she pleaded, nothing to give, and though she had friends, ‘who perhaps would have given all they had in the world rather than see her life lost,’ yet they had given nothing with her knowledge.[91]

Raleigh sides with Ormonde,

Walter Raleigh was not on good terms with Grey. ‘I like not,’ said the latter, ‘his carriage or company, and he has nothing to expect from me.’ The brilliant adventurer, who had now got Burghley’s ear, may have been influenced by this, but, whatever the reason, he seems to have turned to Ormonde, whom he had formerly depreciated. His plan for ending the Desmond rebellion was to put the Earl’s pardon and restoration altogether out of the question, and to receive to mercy and service all those chiefs who were actuated more by fear of him than by disaffection to the Government, such as Lord Fitzmaurice, MacDonough of Duhallow, Patrick Condon, and the White Knight. 700 men in garrison would do the rest. The Earl of Ormonde was to be chiefly relied on for bringing back the still rebellious chiefs to their allegiance. Raleigh’s reasons may be given in his own words: ‘There are many adhering to Desmond which heretofore was good subjects and served against the Earl, and some of them being evil used by the English soldiers and having an opinion that in the end her Majesty will both pardon and restore the Earl as heretofore he hath been, they do rather follow him for fear to be hereafter plagued by him, if now they should not follow him. And therefore if many of these were privately dealt with to return to the service of her Majesty, and to be permitted to possess their own countries quietly, and were well persuaded that the Earl should never be restored, they would be brought to serve her Majesty, &c.’

who is restored.

The soldiers, he added, if they were to be really efficient, should be able to live on their pay, for the certain evils of free quarters were worse than the risks of rebellion. This reasoning prevailed, and Ormonde was appointed governor of Munster, with power to act as Raleigh had advised.[92]

Disorders of an ill-paid soldiery.

Ireland could not be held without an army, and that army was irregularly paid. The consequence was that the Queen’s peaceable subjects found their defenders more burdensome than their enemies. ‘I think in conscience,’ said Bishop Lyons ‘(speaking it with grief of heart), amongst the heathen there is no such wicked soldiers.’ In the Pale food and forage were taken without payment, ‘every soldier, having his boy or woman, would when he came in the afternoon have a meal’s meat, which they term a “Kusshyinge,” and then after that his supper, and if the poor people when they came offered them such as they had, as bread, milk, butter, cheese, or eggs, they would have none of it, but would have flesh, and when they found poultry or sheep they would kill them, and every soldier would have a quarter of that mutton or poultry at his pleasure, with the reversion of which he would break his fast in the morning and have sixpence for his dinner, for all which they would pay nothing, nor captain nor officer give their bill, whereby the ordinary allowance might be answered of the country.’ Men, and even women, were beaten to death, and a great part of Kildare lay waste. A proper composition, in lieu of cess, and increased pay were the only remedies which the Irish Government could suggest. In Munster there was scarcely any attempt made to levy a regular cess, but the soldiers took whatever they could find. If the mayor or citizens of Cork interceded for their miserable neighbours, they received such answers as, ‘Ye are but beggars, rascals, and traitors, and I am a soldier and a gentleman.’ Under these circumstances it is not wonderful that Desmond’s band was 1,000 strong, that the rebels reaped the corn everywhere, and that Captain Smith and his company, who were among the worst offenders, were cut to pieces at Ardfert. The cattle were swept away at noon from under the walls of Cashel. The seneschal of Imokilly plundered freely in the immediate neighbourhood of Cork, and the mayor pursued them in vain—luckily, in St. Leger’s opinion, for the citizen soldiers were fit only to defend walls, and scarcely to do that against any serious attack.[93]

Desmond’s cruelty.

Desmond was strong for the moment, but his cruel and impolitic conduct shows that he was a desperate man. Four gentlemen of the Geraldines, who had refused to follow him were captured and sentenced by his council of war to be hanged. But the Earl said that every Geraldine who failed him should be cut in pieces, and called on as many as loved him to give the prisoner a stroke of the sword. They were accordingly ‘cut in gobbets,’ in Desmond’s presence. He attacked the O’Keefes, a loyal clan upon the upper Blackwater, killed the chief’s son and other prisoners, and took ‘the Vicar of Oskallie, and put out upon him a jury of twelve of the Earl’s men, which jury passed upon him and condemned him to death, seeing he was a true subject to her Majesty, and held office under her highness always.’ Of the whole party, O’Keefe alone was spared, and he was badly wounded.[94]

Death of Clanricarde, whose sons come to terms.

From Maltby in Connaught came the only news which could possibly be called good. Old Clanricarde was at last liberated about the end of June, and a few weeks later he died at Galway of jaundice, aggravated by vexation at the sight of his ruined castle and wasted country. With his last breath he cursed his sons should they prove disobedient subjects, and thanked the Queen for her clemency. The young men soon came in and professed their willingness to have disputes settled according to law, but Secretary Fenton observed that it would be easy to make a civil faction between them, and cut off one without disturbing the province. There was little difficulty in proving that Ulick, the elder brother, was Earl, and the more difficult matter of the lands was settled quietly, and with at least some show of amity. Each competitor gave a bond in 10,000l. to abide by the award, which was based upon the principle of equal division, first choice being in some cases given to the Earl. The whole barony of Leitrim was given to John absolutely, and the title was afterwards conferred upon him. The castles of Portumna and Loughrea were awarded to Ulick; the brothers agreed to surrender Ballinasloe to Maltby. The right of some other Burkes were defined, and in general terms it may be said that the baronies of Dunkellin, Loughrea, and Longford remained with the Earl, though some parcels were excepted. The award was accepted, but the hatred of the brothers was of too long standing to be thus appeased, and it was not long before it broke out again.[95]

General famine.

Famine and pestilence continued to rage through the summer, autumn, and winter of 1582. All Waterford, Limerick, and Cork, and a great part of Tipperary, were spoiled. 200 or 300 kine for the public service were as much as could be had for love or money. ‘The wolf and the best rebel lodged in one inn, with one diet and one kind of bedding.’ Archbishop Loftus being, as Spenser says, more mildly disposed, as ‘was meet for his profession,’ than his colleague Wallop, was so horrified that he advised Burghley to pardon Desmond. There might, he said, be some question of the Queen’s honour if the war of Ireland was like other wars, between one prince and another, but this was against a subject, bare, rude, and savage. The only honour to be had was by healing the sores of the poor subjects. For the famine was not confined to Munster, but ran its course even in Dublin under the eyes of the Lords Justices.

A horse of Secretary Fenton’s was accidentally burned, and was eaten by the people before it was half-roasted. Another of Wallop’s died, and was devoured, entrails and all, apparently without any preparation. It became, indeed, a regular thing ‘to eat the carcasses of dead horses, and to buy them at the soldiers’ hands.’ The Lords Justices admitted that this was a lamentable thing to happen under a Christian prince. The Irish, however, they explained, were less averse to carrion than other people; still they could not but be grieved that the soldiers should extort money for any such wares. The fact is that all were starving alike.[96]

St. Leger seeks to treat with Desmond,

and foretells Ormonde’s failure.

Sir Warham St. Leger, who hated Ormonde and all his works, attributed the evil state of Munster to the ‘cockling and dandling of hollow-hearted wretches,’ in pursuance of the Earl’s policy. In the meantime he intrigued for a capitulation on Desmond’s part. He had taken the Seneschal’s natural son—a boy of seven—‘as like him as if he had spit him out of his mouth,’ and proposed to hang him in case the father should break out again. In the meantime he endeavoured to treat with Desmond through his means, but the rebel Earl was buoyed up constantly with the hopes of aid from abroad. The Countess persuaded him never to write anything, for fear of compromising himself with foreign princes. St. Leger was authorised to offer him his life, restraint without any imprisonment in some part of England or Ireland, and hope of further mercy for himself and child; but a full restoration was not to be thought of. There seems to have been little sincerity in the negotiation, though doubtless both the Queen and Burghley would have been glad to avoid further expense; and Ormonde, on his arrival, found the state of affairs unaltered. St. Leger foretold his failure. The protectees would fail him, and he would have enough to do to keep his own. ‘He is,’ he said, ‘a person most odious of all men to Desmond’s friends.... It is death to all the lords and chieftains of both factions to have English government come among them, for they know that if English government be established here, their Irish exactions is laid aground; the which to forego they had as leave die, such is their devilish consciences.’ How true was the prophecy as to Ormonde’s failure will appear hereafter.[97]

Ormonde returns to Ireland with fresh powers 1583.

After many delays Ormonde was at last despatched, and 1,000 men were assigned to be under his orders in Munster. He had power to promise pardon to all rebels except Desmond himself. His pay and allowances were calculated on a liberal scale, amounting in all to over 4,000l. a year, and his rents due to the Crown were suspended until he should be able to make the lands profitable. Much was left to his discretion. Thus, rebels who surrendered might have a promise of their lands in consideration of a reasonable rent. 300 men were sent from Devon and Cornwall, Cheshire and Lancashire, Somersetshire and Gloucestershire, to fill up the gaps in the Irish garrisons. A large store of provisions was sent; but, on landing, Ormonde found Waterford, Tipperary, Cork, and Limerick in such a state that he thought it would not last for two months. His personal allowance was fixed at 3l. a day, but Wallop at once made a difficulty about paying this and many other claims. Ormonde, he said, was already too great for Ireland, and desired to be absolute in his government. Money no doubt was scarce in Dublin, but the Vice-Treasurer was advised to satisfy the Earl’s demands. The new governor lost no time in preparing for action, but he complained bitterly that companies were defective, that troops of horse were mounted on borrowed ponies, and that he was expected to perform impossibilities. He was ordered not to have more than four per cent. of Irishmen in any band; whereas Englishmen could not be had, and the Irish were the best shots.[98]

Gallant defence of Youghal.

While Munster waited for its new governor, the Seneschal of Imokilly made two attempts to get possession of Youghal. Just at the beginning of winter, some English soldiers, who were probably unpaid, agreed to open the gates; but the plot was discovered. More than two months later, two goldsmiths, who pretended to be soldiers, were admitted into the town. On the appointed night one kept the guard drinking while the other held a ladder for the assailants, whose plan was to occupy every stone house, and to cut it off from the gates. Fortunately, the soldiers had only a few days before broken down a stair leading from the walls, and thus only a few rebels were able to descend at a time. Two houses were, however, taken, and held for three days, in one of which the seneschal, in cold blood and with his own hands, knocked out the brains of six soldiers. Dermod Magrath, Papal Bishop of Cork and Cloyne, and ‘a very learned man in the papist doctrine,’ was present, and persuaded him not to kill any of the townsmen. The Sovereign, or Burgomaster, Francis Agnes (or Anes), behaved with great gallantry, and on the rumoured approach of troops from Waterford, the seneschal withdrew, having lost some sixty men, but carrying away a great quantity of corn, wine, beef, and hides, and leaving half the town in ashes. Cork was asked to send men to the relief of Youghal, but that city had none to spare, having itself been pressed by the rebels, who came up to the very walls and carried off the linen which was drying on the hedges. One of Ormonde’s first cares was to reinforce the garrison of Youghal.[99]

Ormonde shuts Desmond up in Kerry, and his adherents fall away.

In order to put down the Munster rebellion, the first thing was to localise it. The Queen herself had suggested that if Desmond could be kept out of Tipperary and Waterford, it would be comparatively easy to deal with him, and this was the plan adopted by Ormonde. At first he fixed his headquarters at Clonmel, whence the woods of Aherlow were easily accessible, and the Seneschal of Imokilly, who lay there, was harassed by the garrisons of Limerick and Kilmallock. In a month after Ormonde’s arrival, Desmond fled to the borders of Kerry, and his adherents began to desert him fast. Patrick Condon and over 300 others received protections, which they showed a disposition to pay for with the heads of their late comrades. The Baron of Lixnaw submitted about the end of March and was followed in a few days by Gerald MacThomas, called Toneboyreagh, who had long kept the county of Limerick disturbed, and now served well against his late associates. About the same time Lady Desmond came to Ormonde under a twenty days’ protection, but as she still demanded life, liberty, and property for her husband, no terms were granted to her. She then surrendered unconditionally, rather than return to such misery as she had lately endured. Early in June the Seneschal of Imokilly also made his submission, and Desmond was thus deprived of his last important supporter. The rebellion was now confined to Kerry and West Cork, and thither Ormonde repaired about the end of June.[100]

Desmond is hard pressed;

A few days before Ormonde’s arrival Desmond and his wife had a narrow escape from a night attack by the garrison of Kilmallock. The bed in which they had lain was found warm by the soldiers, into whose hands ‘the countess’s gentlewoman’ and others fell. A fog covered the flight of the two principal personages; but cattle, plate, jewels, and wardrobes were all captured. The presence of a lady and her attendants no doubt acted as a clog, and Desmond himself was becoming infirm. The old hurt received at Affane was likely to be aggravated by cold and fatigue, and a month later he had to be carried in his shirt by four men into a bog, and ferried over a river in a trough to escape from a sudden attack by Captain Thornton. After this he fled into Kerry, and it was reported that he would be glad if possible to escape by sea. He was too closely watched for this, but after the failure of his wife’s mission, he still refused to come to Ormonde. The following letter to St. Leger may well be given entire:—

but will not come to Ormonde,

‘Sir Warham, where I understand that the Earl of Ormonde giveth forth that I should submit myself before him as attorney to Her Majesty, you may be sure he doth report more thereof than I have sent him either by word or writing. But this I have offered in hope to prove the unreasonable wrong and injuries done unto me by her Highness’s officers in this realm from time to time, unguilty in me behalf as God knoweth. I am contented upon these conditions so as me country, castles, possessions, and lands, with me son, might be put and left in the hands and quiet possession of me counsel and followers, and also me religion and conscience not barred, with a pardon, protection, and passport for me own body to pass and repass. I would have gone before her Majesty to try all those causes just and true on me part, as I still do allege if I might be heard or may have indifference, and likewise hoping that I might have more justice, favour, and grace at her Majesty’s hands when I am before herself than here at the hands of such of her cruel officers as have me wrongfully proclaimed, and so thereby thinking that her Majesty and I may agree; if not that I may be put safe in the hands of me followers again, and I to deliver me son and me said possessions back to her Majesty’s officers. Dated at Feale the 28th of April, 1583.—Gerot Desmond.’

who insists on an unconditional surrender.

Ormonde would hear of nothing but an unconditional surrender, and continued to ply his double policy of war and clemency. Before the end of May he could announce that 134 had been slain, and 247 protected, since those last mentioned. The few remaining rebels were reduced to horseflesh or carrion, and Desmond himself knew not where to lay his head. He had still eighty men with him, but his pride was sufficiently humbled to make him address Ormonde directly. He could not, he said, accuse himself of disloyalty, but confessed that he had been misled, and pleaded that he had been tyrannously used. He begged for a conference, ‘humbly craving that you will please to appoint some place and time where I may attend upon your honour.’ Ormonde, who was justly proud at this falsification of St. Leger’s prediction, would not alter his terms, and a few days afterwards reported that the rebel’s eighty followers were reduced to twenty. A little later, when he was himself marching towards Kerry, he learned that the fugitive’s retinue consisted of only five persons—a priest, two horsemen, one kerne, and a boy. The people of the South-West had already experience enough of an invasion by Ormonde, and hastened on all sides to make terms for themselves. There were rumours that the Queen was getting tired of the war, and that he would be recalled. He was, he said, so confident of success that he was ready to begin the reduction of the forces under his command. Success was very near when he had been removed before, and he begged that the mistake might not be repeated. ‘Thus,’ he said, ‘am I handled, and do break the ice for others to pass with ease.’[101]

St. Leger thwarts Ormonde.

Sir Warham St. Leger did all that he possibly could to thwart Ormonde. Protections to rebels were, he said, bad things, which enabled traitors to extort from good subjects. Henry VIII., he reminded the Queen, had quieted the Pale for years by first making a somewhat dishonourable peace with the rebels, ‘and then paying them home.’ His advice was that Desmond should be received to life and liberty. ‘I dare,’ he added, ‘adventure the loss of one of my arms, which I would not willingly lose for all the lands and livings that ever he had, he will, within one quarter of a year after he is so received (if the matter be well and politically handled), be wrought to enter into new treasons, and thereby apprehended, and his head cut off according to his due deserts.’ Any other course would be too expensive. In other words, the wretched man was to be lulled into fancied security, watched by spies and tempted by false friends until he was induced to do something technically equivalent to treason. This abominable advice was not taken, happily for Elizabeth’s honour; but constant detraction was very near shaking Ormonde’s credit. Wallop and Fenton, who knew the Queen’s weak point and who hated the Earl for his independent conduct and position, lost no opportunity of showing what a costly luxury her Lord-General was. Walsingham urged Ormonde to make a quick end lest her Majesty should repent, and he afterwards repeated St. Leger’s sentiments and almost his very words about the impolicy of granting protections. Burghley, however, stood firm, and it was probably through his influence that some of St. Leger’s letters to the Queen were kept from her eye and sent back to Ormonde, who accused his adversary of offering to secure mercy for Desmond if he would only hold out until the Earl was no longer governor of Munster, and of giving out that his supersession was resolved on. Ormonde says he heard this from rebels who were likely to know the truth, that it was confirmed by a priest who had long been with Desmond, and that the latter had thus been ‘animated’ to hold out although in great straits. Ormonde thought Wallop disliked him nearly as much as St. Leger, and the Vice-Treasurer’s own letters bear out this opinion.[102]

Ormonde scours Kerry.

Fate, or Burghley, had, however, decreed that Ormonde should be allowed to finish the business in his own way, and the sad story may now be told to the end. There was no more fighting to be done, and at the end of June the Lord General passed through Tipperary and Limerick into Kerry. He visited Castle Island, Castlemaine, and Dingle, a principal object of the journey being to prevent Desmond escaping by sea. Castlemaine he found roofless and in ruins, and that famous hold was never again destined to resist the royal power. Clancare, the two O’Sullivans, and other gentlemen came to him with assurances of fidelity, and not the slightest resistance was offered anywhere. The protected people, he said, had generally served well, and were supported by their friends without charge to the Queen. Those who did no service had given hostages, and the work of reducing the garrisons might now be at once begun. The rebels were weary of the war and were ploughing the land; sword, law, and famine had done their work. In all his journey to the farthest point of Kerry, and back by Kinsale to Cork, Ormonde had to tell of no enemy but Sir Warham St. Leger, ‘who dwelleth in Cork Castle to small purpose for any good service he doth... drinking and writing (saving your honour) shameful lies.’[103]

Desmond is driven into a corner.

Early in August St. Leger reported that Desmond had crossed the Shannon and escaped to Scotland; but there was no truth in this. He was confined to that part of Kerry which lies north of Castlemaine and to the mountainous corner of Cork where the Blackwater rises. Ormonde was pretty confident that he would be captured, and none of the protected men relapsed except Goran MacSwiney, a captain of gallowglasses. Orders were sent to reduce the army in Munster from 1,000 to 600, and to prepare, if possible, for a further reduction to 200. On the very day that this order was penned Lord Roche was able to announce that he had very nearly taken Desmond, and that he had actually taken his chaplain, who was not so well horsed as the rest. ‘I would,’ Ormonde wrote to Burghley, ‘this chaplain and I were for one hour with you in your chamber, that you might know the secrets of his heart, which by fair means or foul he must open unto me.’ The poor man was coupled with a handlock to one of Ormonde’s servants, so that no one could speak to him privately. And thus the hunted chief was deprived of his last adviser.[104]

Death of Desmond.

On November 1, Goran MacSwiney was killed, and Ormonde proceeded to discharge 110 foot and 12 horse. Even yet a few desperate men adhered to Desmond, and he might have long eluded his pursuers but for an outrage done in his name. On November 9, he sent twenty men on a plundering expedition to the south side of Tralee Bay, and they drove off forty cows and some horses belonging to Maurice O’Moriarty, whose house they robbed, and whose wife and children they barbarously stripped naked. Next day, having first asked leave from Lieutenant Stanley at Dingle, the O’Moriarties, with near a score of kerne and some half-dozen soldiers of the garrison of Castlemaine, traced the lost cattle to the woods of Glanageenty, about five miles to the east of Tralee. Owen O’Moriarty climbed the hill by moonlight, and looking down into the deep glen saw a fire beneath him, which was found to proceed from a cabin. The hut was surrounded, and at daybreak the O’Moriarties entered. Taken unawares and but half-awake, Desmond’s companion only thought of escaping, and he was left behind and wounded in the arm with a sword-cut by a soldier named Daniel O’Kelly. ‘I am the Earl of Desmond,’ he cried, ‘save my life!’ ‘Thou hast killed thyself long ago,’ said Owen O’Moriarty, and now thou shalt be prisoner to the Queen’s Majesty and the Earl of Ormonde, Lord General of Munster.’ They carried him some distance, but a rescue was imminent, and Owen ordered O’Kelly to strike off the prisoner’s head, since it was impossible to fight thus encumbered. The soldier obeyed, and the head was carried to Castlemaine, and from thence to Ormonde at Kilkenny. The ghastly trophy was by him sent to the Queen. As the best evidence against those who ‘spoke malicious lies touching the service and state of Munster,’ it was exposed on London Bridge. The like exposure at Cork was designed for the headless trunk, but friendly hands hid it for eight weeks, and finally deposited it in a neighbouring chapel where only Fitzgeralds were buried, and which is still called ‘the church of the name.’[105]

Desmond a popular hero.

The spot where Desmond was decapitated is marked by a mound, and retains the name of Bothar-an-Iarla, or the Earl’s way. A gigantic elder formerly overshadowed the place, and in our own day it is covered by a young oak, a holly, and a bright tangle of ferns and foxgloves. A good carriage-road runs through the once inaccessible glen, and marks the difference between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. Desmond’s death closes the mediæval history of Munster, and it is no wonder that much legendary glory attaches to his name. He was a man of little talent or virtue, though he need not be too severely condemned for refusing to see that the days of feudal or tribal independence were over. But the past has an irresistible attraction for Irish sentiment, and the popular ear is more readily opened to fable than to historical truth. With nothing heroic about him, the unhappy Earl is still honoured as a hero; but even the fidelity of tradition to his memory is less than that of the natives to him while he yet lived. Let thus much be said in honour of the poor kerne, who stood so staunchly in a doubtful cause. The Earl’s ghost, mounted on a phantom steed with silver shoes, is said sometimes to rise at night from the waters of Lough Gur; and when the west wind comes up fitfully from the sea and makes slates and windows rattle, the Kerry people still call upon travellers to listen to the Desmond howl.[106]

FOOTNOTES:

[80] Grey to the Privy Council, July 10, 1581; Wallop to Walsingham, July 17.

[81] Wallop to Walsingham, March 8, 1581; L. Bryskett to Walsingham, April 21; Grey to the Queen, August 10; G. Fenton to Leicester, September 1; and to Burghley, September 21.

[82] Relation of Sir N. Maltby’s proceedings, March 23, 1581.

[83] Maltby to Walsingham, June 30, 1581; Four Masters, 1581. From Maltby’s letter of September 20, it appears that Burghley approved of William Burke’s execution.

[84] Zouch to Burghley, January 5, 1582; White Knight to Ormonde, same date; William Wendover to Fenton, January 6; Grey to Walsingham, January 13; Russell; O’Daly.

[85] The Queen to Grey, January 28, 1582; G. Fenton to Walsingham, March 28; St. Leger to Fenton, March 24.

[86] G. Fenton to Walsingham, May 8, 1582; St. Leger to Walsingham, and Justice Meade to same, May 28; Loftus and Wallop to Walsingham, June 7; Grey to Walsingham, June 16.

[87] Maltby to Walsingham, June 17, 1582; Wallop to Walsingham, June 21; Walsingham to Grey, June 25; Lady Desmond to Burghley, August 28; Lords Justices to the Privy Council, October 12; Four Masters, 1582; O’Daly.

[88] G. Fenton to Walsingham, November 5, 1581. In a letter to Walsingham of July 2, 1582, Grey complains that Burghley listens to slanderers; the Queen’s opinion, &c., July, No. 76. The sword was delivered August 31.

[89] Spenser’s View of the State of Ireland. This is one of the many passages tending to prove that the original shamrock was the wood-sorrel, and not the white clover, which could never have been edible; consult Bentham’s British Flora under Oxalis, and see below note to chapter 52. St. Leger to the Queen, March 12, 1582, to Burghley, April 20; Justice Meade to Walsingham, May 28. The soldiers were nearly as badly off as the natives, Dowdall to Walsingham, April 24. In the relation of Lord Grey’s services (September 1582) is mentioned ‘the general destruction of the enemy’s churls.’ The churls were the non-combatant country folk.

[90] Grey to the Privy Council, April 12, 1582; to Walsingham, May 7; a friend to Mrs. Nugent, July 5, 1583; Sidney’s Brief Relation, 1583. Sir Robert Dillon, who succeeded Nugent as Chief Justice, was much blamed for his conduct in this case; see his letter to Walsingham, June 25, 1582.

[91] John Nugent’s confession, February 5, 1582; petition to Burghley, September (No. 85); Ormonde to Burghley, May 30, 1583; Janet Nugent’s petition, August 30; warrants for the remission of her fine and for restoration to her property, April 18, 1584. It is stated that the fine was imposed on the information of John Cusack. William Nugent left Ireland in or before January 1582.

[92] Grey to Walsingham, May 7, 1582; Mr. Rawley’s opinion, October 25. Ormonde’s appointment was announced on December 3.

[93] The Bishop of Ross to the Lords Justices, October 9, 1582, with remarks by the Lords Justices; Auditor Jenyson to Burghley, September 4; St. Leger to Burghley, September 22, and to the Lords Justices, September 26; the Portreeve of Cashel to the Lords Justices, September 28.

[94] Letter from Onor Cartye enclosed in one from the Lords Justices to Walsingham, October 3, 1582; St. Leger to Burghley and Walsingham, September 22.

[95] Maltby to Walsingham, June 21, 1582; Clanricarde to Maltby, July 7; Fenton to Leicester, August 13; to Walsingham, August 23. The award is in Carew, under November 17.

[96] Barnaby Gooche to Burghley, August 27, 1582; Justice Meade to the Lords Justices, October 13; Lord Justice Loftus to Burghley, November 5; Lords Justices to Burghley, December 8; Spenser’s State of Ireland.

[97] St. Leger to Fenton, October 31; to the Queen and to Burghley, November 26, 1582; Burghley to Loftus and Fenton, and to St. Leger, December 9; St. Leger to Burghley and Walsingham, February 2, 1583.

[98] Earl of Ormonde’s demands, &c., November 1582; Walsingham to Wallop, December 6; Burghley to the Lords Justices, December 8; Rate for 1,000 men to be sent into Munster, December 15; Lords Justices to Burghley, January 5, 1583; Ormonde to Walsingham, January 27; Wallop to Walsingham, February 7 and March 6; Minute for the Lords Justices, March 5; Ormonde to the Lords Justices, March 20. Ormonde left London, or Windsor, December 22, and landed at Waterford (viâ Milford) January 21, having been long hindered by storms.

[99] St. Leger to Burghley, Oct. 29, 1582, and Jan. 16, 1583; and to Walsingham, Feb. 11.

[100] G. Fenton to Burghley, Feb. 24, 1583; Ormonde to the Privy Council, Feb. 28 and April 5; to the Queen, April 24; to the Privy Council and to Burghley and Walsingham, May 28; to the Lords Justices, June 15; to the Queen, June 18; to Walsingham, June 22; Thomas Mynne to Wallop, April 9.

[101] G. Fenton to Walsingham, Jan. 16; St. Leger to Walsingham, Feb. 11; Sir W. Stanley to Fenton, May 25; Desmond to Ormonde, June 5; Ormonde to Burghley and to the Queen, June 18; to Burghley, June 22.

[102] St. Leger to the Queen, May 8 and Aug. 5 (the latter was intercepted); to Burghley, Aug. 5 and Oct. 19; to Walsingham, Aug. 5, 1583, and Sept. 14, 1584; Ormonde to Burghley, Oct. 20, 1583; to the Privy Council, Jan. 23, 1584; to Burghley, Jan. 26, 1584; Walsingham to Ormonde, March 25 and June 12, 1583; Lords Justices to Walsingham, June 18, 1583; G. Fenton to Walsingham, May 30, 1583. The tone of all Wallop’s and Fenton’s letters is unfriendly to Ormonde.

[103] Ormonde to Burghley and to Walsingham, July 10, 1583. The nobles and gentlemen who came to Ormonde at Cork and gave pledges were as follows:—Earl of Clancare; Lords Barrymore, Roche, Kinsale and Lixnaw; Sirs—Thomas of Desmond, Owen MacCarthy Reagh, Owen O’Sullivan, Barry Roe, Lord Lixnaw’s son Patrick, the White Knight, Patrick Condon, the seneschal of Imokilly, Cormac MacDermot, nephew to Sir Cormac MacTeig, Callaghan MacTeig MacCarthy, brother to Sir Cormac MacTeig, O’Sullivan More, Donell, nephew to Sir Owen O’Sullivan, O’Donoghue More (inhabiting in MacCarthy More’s country), O’Donoghue of Glenflesk, MacDonogh MacCarthy of Duhallow, O’Keefe, MacAuliffe, O’Callaghan, MacFynnyne, William, brother to the Knight of Kerry, Thomas Oge, seneschal of Kerry, Donogh MacCragh (a rhymer), and divers captains of gallowglasses of the MacSwineys and the MacSheehy’s.

[104] St. Leger to Burghley, Aug. 5 and Oct. 19, 1583; N. White to Burghley, Aug. 24; Ormonde to Burghley, Sept. 4 and 23 (the latter enclosing Lord Roche’s letter); Privy Council to Ormonde, Sept. 19.

[105] I have followed the strictly contemporary account printed by Archdeacon Rowan in the Kerry Magazine (Jan. 1854), and reprinted by Miss Hickson in Old Kerry Records. No other account is so full, and it is easily reconciled with the Four Masters and with Ormonde’s letters printed by Mr. Gilbert in vol. iv. of the Irish National MSS, and see Ormonde to Walsingham and Burghley, Nov. 28, and Smith’s Cork.

[106] The spot where Desmond fell is on the right bank, rather low down in the glen. No doubt the cabin where he spent the night was higher up. In the survey made by Sir Valentine Browne and others, and privately printed by Mr. S. M. Hussey, is the following passage: ‘A great wood here and there, filled with oak-trees fit for house timber, but not large enough for the making of ships and castles. But the greater part of the said wood consists in underwood of the age of fifty and sixty years, filled with dotted trees—ash, hazels, sallows, willows, alders, birches, white-thorns and such like.... The wood is called Glanageenty, in which the late Earl of Desmond was slain in his rebellion, containing in length about four miles, and in breadth two miles, which said woods, because no woods there are saleable, and they lie under the mountains of Slew-Logher, far from any river or navigable stream, are here valued at nil.’ I inspected the ground in June 1883.

[CHAPTER XL.]

GOVERNMENT OF PERROTT, 1583-1584.

Sir John Perrott is made Lord Deputy.

As early as December 1582, Sir John Perrott had been spoken of as Grey’s successor. His actual appointment was, however, deferred for more than a year, Loftus and Wallop continuing to act as Lords Justices till June 1584. They were fortunate in seeing the end of the Desmond rebellion, but less so in having to deal with those who had been engaged in it. Lady Desmond, in her poverty, subsisted upon a pension allowed her by Ormonde, until the Queen’s pleasure should be known; and the protections which he had given to the seneschal of Imokilly, Patrick Condon, and other leaders, were respected. Wallop did not like the Lord-General, but he did not thwart him seriously. Piers Grace, an old and notorious offender in the Kilkenny district, was pardoned at the Earl’s intercession, and the Lords Justices observed that they would not have done it for anyone else.[107]

Archbishop O’Hurley.

His treatment at Rome.

In 1581, after the death of Fitzgibbon, Gregory XIII. appointed Dermod O’Hurley to the Archbishopric of Cashel. He had spent fifteen years at Louvain and four at Rheims, and he was deeply engaged in the plans of Irish exiles against Elizabeth’s government. We get a glimpse of him at Rome not long after his appointment, and find him, like his predecessor, occupied in schemes for the invasion of Ireland. The caution of the Italian ecclesiastic is, as usual, contrasted with the sanguine temper of the exiles. Christopher Barnewall, who had been sent to the Continent by Baltinglas, was introduced by O’Hurley to Cardinal Como, and informed him that Kildare and Delvin were in prison, though both had served against the Wicklow rebels. ‘Who,’ said the Cardinal, with an expressive shrug, ‘would trust an Irishman? The Earl promised to take our part.’ O’Hurley thought he had not gone so far. ‘Wilt thou tell me?’ answered the Italian angrily, and produced a letter from Kildare and a document signed by most of the Lords of Ulster, Munster, and Connaught, which made his view good. ‘Do you think,’ he said, ‘that we would have trusted to James Fitzmaurice and Stukeley, or to all these lords which subscribed the great letter, unless we had received this letter from the Earl of Kildare? The Pope has no money for any of your nation.’[108]

O’Hurley reaches Ireland,

where he is tortured

and hanged.

O’Hurley landed at Drogheda in September, 1583, bringing letters from Rome with him. He was harboured by Lord Slane, whose daughter was married to Ormonde’s natural son Piers, and in the latter’s company he went into Munster after a few days’ rest. The Archbishop, who was soon hunted down, with Ormonde’s help, made no secret of having been engaged in the work of the Inquisition, and charged Kildare and Delvin with the late insurrection—thus showing that Barnewall had spoken truly. Walsingham recommended the use of ‘torture, or any other severe manner of proceeding, to gain his knowledge of all foreign practices against Her Majesty’s states.’ The Lords Justices objected that they had no rack nor other such instrument of terror, and that the Tower of London would be a fitter place for the experiment. Walsingham then advised them to toast the prisoner’s feet at the fire with hot boots. A commission was accordingly made out to Fenton and Waterhouse, and the ordeal was applied with frightful severity. The letters brought by O’Hurley had been intercepted, and could not therefore be denied, but nothing of importance was elicited. A letter which he had written to Ormonde was produced, and the Lords Justices took care to hint at the Earl’s complicity, but without effect. The lawyers held that an indictment for treasons committed abroad would not lie, and in any case a trial by jury was not to be risked. The Lords Justices suggested martial law, to which, as they grimly observed, the landless Archbishop could not fairly object. Seeing that further torture would be useless Walsingham agreed to this course, and noted the Queen’s ‘good acceptation of their careful travail in this matter.’ Throughout the correspondence it is evident that Elizabeth and all her servants looked upon O’Hurley mainly as a traitor and not as a recusant; and that defence of their conduct may stand for what it is worth. The torture is indefensible; but it was only too common in those days, and O’Hurley himself had been an Inquisitor. The Archbishop was hanged privately in the Castle early on June 19, after the arrival of Perrott, but before he had been sworn in.[109]

Help comes from Spain,

but it is too late.

There can be no doubt that the court of Rome had urged upon that of Spain the necessity of relieving Desmond. But Philip II. was never in time, and his energies, such as they were, were absorbed by Portuguese affairs. It was not until the final defeat of Strozzi’s expedition to the Azores that Irish exiles could get their business attended to. The Cardinal of Como became friendly once more, and sent for William Nugent almost as often as the post arrived from Spain, saying that he remembered him at every turn of his beads. The Pope saw Nugent every six weeks, and the intervals were spent in making interest with Gregory’s son Giacomo, whose influence over the aged Pontiff had become very great. It was confidently reported that the whole Spanish fleet would sail for Ireland on its return from the Azores, but only two ships actually arrived. The papal bishop of Killaloe, Cornelius Ryan, had been sent by Desmond to Spain towards the end of 1582. In the spring of 1583 it was announced that help was coming, but it may have been delayed until the return of Santa Cruz and his fleet. Desmond had been dead nearly two months when the tardy succour arrived. Bishop Ryan appeared on the west coast with one large ship laden with artillery. Another, also with munitions of war, anchored in Ringabella Bay outside Cork harbour, and sent a boat, which brought off a countryman. Of those on board the chief spokesman was a friar named Shane O’Ferrall, who wept bitterly on hearing of Desmond’s death. A Spaniard wrote down all the particulars. ‘Is there none of the Earl’s name,’ he asked, ‘that will take upon him to follow and maintain that enterprise? You say none. Well, if any had continued it until now, we had brought here to furnish them treasure and munition good store, and shortly they should have had more, and aid enough.’ There were three bags of silver and two of gold, each as much as a man could carry. A present was sent by O’Ferrall to a lady living close by—marmalade, lemons and figs, a poignard, and a taffeta scarf—and then finding their occupation gone, the strangers left the coast. Don Antonio and Philip Strozzi had not saved Portugal, but they had destroyed Spanish influence in Ireland.[110]

Murder of John Burke;

his popularity.

Clanricarde is pardoned.

Within a week of Desmond’s death the newly made Baron of Leitrim came to a violent end. Public opinion attributed the deed to his brother, and no doubt he profited largely by it. Clanricarde himself said that he had intercepted a band of traitors in the Baron’s company, and that he fell in the scuffle. His sister, Lady Mary, clamoured loudly for vengeance, but the Earl found means to silence her. A competent English observer tells us that ‘Sir John of the Shamrocks,’ as the Irish called him, was the best beloved man in Connaught, perhaps in all Ireland. ‘He was very well spoken, he was courteous, he was liberal to every man that had occasion to try him, in his house he was very bountiful, and he wrote better than any Irishman whose letters I have seen.... First he would speak fair to every man, and mean no truth to any man that was honest. He had always a treasonable mind, and did ever thirst after blood. He was betrothed to one woman, and, leaving her, he was married to two others; they are all three alive. He was a common haunter of women, and men say he had a child by his own sister, and a great maintainer of thieves he was.... The Earl will not steal from one to give to another. He will not spare the offender for any respects; I mean thieves: other offenders are seldom punished in Ireland, and never among the Irish.’ The Earl offered to prove the incest by irrefutable witnesses. The Lord Justice thought the simplest plan was to attribute the murder to the mutual hatred between the half-brothers since their cradles. They advised that Clanricarde’s future good conduct should be secured by a pardon, ‘especially in those remote parts where so many heinous facts contrary to the laws of God and man have been infinitely borne with in all ages.’ Three years before, when Clanricarde was ill, it was generally supposed that his brother had poisoned him. To avoid further confusion the English Government thought it better to allow a pardon. The murdered man had no legitimate children, and the peerage died with him. This long-standing faction fight was now at an end; the Earl was undisputed master over all the possessions of his house, and became the mainstay of English law and order in the West.[111]

Trial by combat.

The once mighty tribe of the Leinster O’Connors had fallen very low, but even the miserable remnant could not keep from internecine war. Teig MacGilpatrick, who led one party, was accused by Connor MacCormac of killing men who were under protection. Connor retorted that they had broken into rebellion since protection was granted. The Lords Justices persuaded Connor, and Sir Nicholas White persuaded Teig to appear and accuse each other. An appeal of treason was thus technically constituted, and for this they were told that trial by battle was the proper remedy. Fearing, it would appear, that the courage of the litigants might ooze away, the combat was fixed for the next day. The Lords Justices and Council sat solemnly in the inner Castle yard, the display being made more impressive by a large attendance of military officers. The proper ceremonies were observed, and the Lords Justices were careful to excuse any possible want of accuracy by pleading the shortness of the time. The combatants who were allowed only sword, target, and skull-cap, were stripped to their shirts and searched by Secretary Fenton himself. They then took their seats on two stools at opposite ends of the lists, and the pleadings having been read a trumpet sounded the onset. Connor, who was wounded twice in the leg and once in the eye, attempted to close, but his adversary was too strong for him. Having stunned and disarmed his accuser, Teig, who was himself seriously wounded, ‘but not mortally, the more was the pity,’ cut off his head with his own sword and presented it on the point to the Lords Justices, one of whom, be it remembered, was the Archbishop of Dublin. Fenton sent the sword to Leicester, ‘wishing her Majesty had the same end of all the O’Connors in Ireland.’ ‘We commend,’ they said, ‘the diligent travail of Sir Lucas Dillon and the Master of the Rolls, who equally and openly seemed to countenance the champions, but secretly with very good concurrence with us and between themselves for her Majesty’s service.’[112]

A second trial goes by default.

The Lords Justices hoped to make more O’Connors kill one another, but a second combat arranged to take place two or three days later was frustrated by the non-appearance of the accused, a brother of the victorious Teig, who had accepted the challenge for him. His adversary, Morrogh-ni-Cogge, came into the lists and made proclamation for two hours with drums and trumpets. Morrogh was adjudged victorious, but the absent man described him as ‘readiest to fight with those that he knew were farthest off from him.’ He urged that his brother had no right to promise for him, that Morrogh was too base a fellow to place in the balance with him, and that he could not be spared until his brother had recovered. ‘Notwithstanding,’ he added, ‘when my brother is whole of his wounds and able to take charge of his men, if it shall please the Lords Justices to call Morrogh and me face to face, that I may know upon what ground and quarrel I am to fight, I will then make it openly known how little able that vain boaster is to stand in my hands, who at the very sound of my name was wont to trot over whole countries.’[113]

Arrival of Perrott—his instructions.

Sir John Perrott was in no great hurry to take up his government, and five months elapsed between the date of his patent and his arrival in Ireland. It was rumoured in Dublin that he would not come at all. In England and in Ireland, his choleric temper involved him in frequent quarrels, and it is probable that delay was caused by some of these. His instructions did not greatly differ from those which Elizabeth was wont to give to her representatives. To increase the revenue without oppressing the subject, to reduce the army without impairing its efficiency, to punish rebels without driving them to desperation, and to reward loyal people without cost to the Crown—these were the usual orders, and they were easier to give than to carry out. Perrott had already tasted the misery of Irish official life, and his half-brother, Sir Henry Jones, warned him that he would now be envied more than ever, and truly prophesied that he would never see him again.[114]

Perrott and Ormonde.

The settlement of Munster was, of course, the most important part of Perrott’s work, and he was probably chosen because he knew that province well. He was ordered to take Ormonde with him, and to give his opinion due weight. The Earl was directed to come to England as soon as he had given all the information in his power. Tired of the delay, and fearing lest he should be undermined at court, Ormonde slipped over to Wales and met the new Lord Deputy, who handed him a gracious letter from the Queen. This somewhat reassured him, but he complained of hard dealing in being displaced before he had made known in England in how good and quiet order he had left his late charge. At Carew Castle he received orders to accompany his host to Ireland, and complied, though he always hated a sea-passage. He felt that his personal interests were safe in the hands of his old companion in arms, but thought it a little late to consult him about Munster. The journey would only increase his debts, unless, as he hinted to Burghley, the Queen made it worth his while; ‘but over I will, God willing, and back again, seeing you wish it should be so.’[115]

Perrott makes a speech,

which is generally admired.

Perrott made a speech to the great crowd assembled at his installation. He said that the Queen held her subjects of Ireland equal with those of England, and that her care, as well as his own, was to make them equally happy by means of good government. Among other sayings it was noted as worthy of remark, that he wished to suppress ‘the name of a churl and crushing of a churl,’ and to substitute such terms as husbandman, franklin, or yeoman. ‘This,’ says Secretary Fenton, ‘was so plausible to the assembly, that it was carried from hand to hand throughout the whole realm in less time than might be thought credible if I should express it.’

No respecter of persons.

Next day the Lord Deputy ordered a general hosting, according to the ancient custom, for six weeks, beginning on August 10. Tara was assigned as the place of meeting, and Tyrone, Ormonde, Barrymore, and Mountgarret were among those who signed the order. Perrott devoted a few days to the Council, whose help was necessary to enable him to gather up the reins. Fenton found him ‘affable and pleasing, seeking by good means to recover the hearts of the people that were somewhat estranged, quick and industrious, careful of her Majesty’s profit, sincere, just, and no respecter of persons.’ Indeed, he did not respect persons enough. Wallop, whose office of Vice-Treasurer made him the most important man next to the Viceroy, and who had been virtual chief governor for nearly two years past, was on the point of quarrelling with him at the outset, but forced himself to make allowance for the Deputy’s passionate disposition. With Loftus, who had lately been Wallop’s colleague in the government, and who was still Lord Chancellor, Perrott was at open war in a very short time.[116]

John Norris governor of Munster, and Bingham of Connaught.

John Norris, the most famous of Lord Norris of Rycot’s six good sons, had been appointed Lord President of Munster. Bingham, whom Perrott knighted at his installation, was, at the same time, made Chief Commissioner of Connaught in Maltby’s room, but with inferior emoluments. The Lord Deputy proposed to settle the two provincial governors in their places at once, and to return in time for the hosting at Tara. Norris went straight to Munster, and Bingham accompanied Perrott to the West. All the chief men of Connaught and Thomond flocked dutifully to the Viceroy, and he decided controversies to their satisfaction. The sheriffs maintained great trains of followers, who became a scourge to the country, and this abuse was sternly repressed. Clanricarde and the rest were ready to make some permanent arrangement with their tenants, ‘so as I,’ said Perrott, ‘would take a time among them to perform it, which, if I have quietness, I will do hereafter.’ He was not fated to have much quietness. Bingham’s first impression of his province was that the Irish should be won by plausible means. It was, he said, their habit to acknowledge their duty to her Majesty on the arrival of a new Lord Deputy, ‘more for fashion than for faithful obedience.’ The fashion and the want of faithful obedience have both continued to our own time. Bingham saw clearly that the Queen’s government would never be really popular—‘the people, for every small trifle, are daily suggesting that they are intolerably oppressed and extorted upon.’ His advice was to keep them down by steady but gentle pressure, ‘so that by having too little the country may not be waste, and by having too much the people may not rebel. Nevertheless, my meaning is rather to better their estate than to make it worse.’ He understood the problem, but he was not much more successful than others in finding the solution.[117]

State of the Church.

John Long, a Cambridge man and a Londoner, was consecrated Primate on the day on which Perrott left Dublin. As a special mark of favour the new Deputy had been allowed to fill the vacant see. Loftus desired the appointment of Thomas Jones, Dean of St. Patrick’s, who ultimately succeeded him in Dublin. Not much, either good or bad, is recorded of Archbishop Long, but he became the chief pastor of a most forlorn flock. ‘There are here,’ says an English visitor to Ireland, ‘so many churches fallen down, so many children dispensed withal to enjoy the livings of the Church, so many laymen—as they are commonly termed—suffered to hold benefices with cure, so many clergymen tolerated to have the profit of three or four pastoral dignities, who, being themselves unlearned, are not meet men, though they were willing, to teach and instruct others, as whoso beholdeth it must not choose but make it known.’[118]

Munster thoroughly cowed.

Many of the chief men of Munster came to Perrott at Limerick, and the rest signified their intention of attending him at Cork. But news arrived that Scots had landed in Ulster, and the Lord Deputy, who liked fighting better than anything, turned aside from Limerick, crossed Tipperary, and returned by Kilkenny to Dublin. Ormonde and Norris, together with all the late rebels whom the Earl had pardoned, were ordered to make ready for the northern enterprise. Malachi O’Moloney, Papal Bishop of Kilmacduagh, was suspected of having a hand in the Ulster plot; he came to Perrott, renounced the Pope, and took the oath of supremacy; but there can be little doubt that this conversion was insincere. A messenger from Tirlogh O’Neill had certainly been in Munster, but found it impossible to stir up the embers of the Desmond rebellion. Lord Fitzmaurice told him plainly that no one would stir as long as Perrott and Ormonde were in Ireland. The Lord Deputy could therefore turn his back safely on Munster, and he hastened to Dublin to make preparations for repelling what he believed to be a serious invasion.[119]

Escheated lands in Munster.

Difficulties of the survey.

Far more important than the perennial but limited trouble with the Scots, was the question of surveying and resettling the attainted lands in Munster. In June 1584, a commission for the purpose was directed to Vice-Treasurer Wallop, Sir Valentine Browne a man of long experience in English revenue business, Surveyor-General Alford, and auditors Jenyson and Peyton. Their survey began early in September, and they did not return till the end of November, having found a great part of the province waste; and Kerry in particular seemed impossible to re-people except by importation from England. Sir Valentine Browne, who was an elderly man, was active and zealous, but he found the work very hard. ‘He hath,’ says his colleague the Vice-Treasurer, ‘been sundry times bogged, yet hath gone better through with it than might be imagined so corpulent a man of his years would have been able.’ Rivers and mountains had to be crossed, and provisions could hardly be procured at any point between Limerick and Dingle. One hundred persons fed at the Commissioners’ table, who had to supply it on credit. Wallop was struck by the great fertility of the land, and estimated that the Queen would have a new revenue of 6,000l. within three years. But the difficulty in making an accurate survey was very great. It was supposed that land worth more than 1,000l. a year had escheated in parts of Tipperary, outside of Ormonde’s jurisdiction; but what he had once claimed no one dared to inhabit in spite of him. The Earl’s palatinate was originally a matter of grace and favour, but he tried to extend it to the whole county, and it seemed doubtful whether any subject ought to be so great. The difficulty of arriving at the truth proved even more serious than Wallop at first supposed. Many months passed without anything being decided, and in the meantime Munster was in the utmost misery. Vice-President Norris could not prevent his starving soldiers from running after his brother into Flanders, and the towns, which truly pleaded poverty, could neither be forced nor persuaded to support them.[120]

Scots in Ulster.

Ormonde, who was in a hurry to get to London, deferred his journey that he might accompany Perrott to Ulster. The young Earl of Thomond, who had been educated in England, and who lived to be called ‘the great Earl,’ was glad to take part in the expedition. His great object was to have the county of Clare acknowledged as part of Munster, and freed from the jurisdiction of the Connaught government; and in this he ultimately succeeded. Clanricarde also gave his services, and so did Lord President Norris. Perrott had 2,000 trained men with him, besides Irish allies, and he thought they would all be necessary. It had been his intention to govern plausibly, and ‘to look through his fingers at Ulster as a fit receptacle for all the savage beasts of the land;’ but the Scots were said to be 4,000, and there were the usual reports about Spanish ships. Norris, who had a cooler head than Perrott, afterwards said that he thought the Scots were bent ‘only on their customary fetching of meat.’ They took 3,000 cows from Tyrconnell, but their numbers were larger than usual. Macleans, as well as MacDonnells, were engaged, and the whole movement had probably more to do with Hebridean politics than with any intention of hurting Queen Elizabeth. The Scots disappeared as quickly as they had come, and when Perrott reached Newry, he found that no foeman worthy of his steel awaited him. He resolved, however, to go on, and to show that Ulster was within his reach.[121]

The Scots clans,

and the Ulster Irish.

Secretary Davison was in Scotland at this time, and he ridiculed Perrott’s fear of Scottish invasion. The obscure politics of Isla and Cantire were not well understood even at Edinburgh, and the Englishman’s judgment may have been warped by the contempt which he certainly felt for Arran. The whole thing, he said, had been greatly exaggerated. But, notwithstanding his opinion and that of Norris, it seems clear that the uneasiness among the western clans had something to say to the fall of Gowrie, and to Arran’s short-lived triumph. The islanders would hardly move for king or regent, unless they saw some advantage to themselves. Some of them at least were paid by cattle taken from the O’Donnells, and all were willing to make interest at court if it could be done cheaply. Perrott’s ships just failed in intercepting the Scots at Lough Foyle, and he could only speak from report. ‘Yet truly,’ he maintained, ‘although they ran away thus cowardly, howsoever Mr. Davison was abused by his intelligence, they were in number little fewer, their training and furniture no worse, and their purpose no better, than I wrote.’ Tirlogh Luineach was not minded to oppose Perrott, and he came to him at Newry without pardon or protection. The old chief’s adhesion proved of little value, for, like other Irish leaders before and since, ‘the better subject he became, the weaker he waxed, and the less regarded of his followers.’ In fact he required help against his own people. But O’Cahan and the crafty Baron of Dungannon also came in, and Perrott proceeded to invest Dunluce Castle.[122]

Slight connection of the western clans with Edinburgh.

Perrott takes Dunluce.

The legal government of Scotland accepted no responsibility for the raids of Macleans and MacDonnells in Ulster. Formerly attempts to retaliate on the Hebrides had not been successful, though Perrott wished to repeat them; but James and Elizabeth were at peace, and the Queen was quite justified in treating the intruders as filibusters. Whether or not they were partly moved by Catholic intriguers in Mary Stuart’s interest really mattered very little, for they could not influence seriously the fate of creeds or kingdoms. But they were a constant source of expense, and the officer who dealt them a crushing blow would deserve well of his sovereign. This honour was, however, denied to Perrott, and reserved for Bingham. The Scot who commanded the garrison of Dunluce declared that he held the castle for the King of Scots’ use, and would defend it to the last. He can, however, have had no valid commission. The position of this place was at once its strength and its weakness. Situated on a precipitous rock rising out of a stormy sea, and connected with the mainland by a narrow ledge, it was almost unapproachable by any enemy. On the other hand it could scarcely be relieved, and it was impossible for the garrison to escape. The fire of three pieces converging on the small castle soon made it untenable, and the forty men whom it contained surrendered at discretion on the second or third day.[123]

Claims of the MacDonnells.

The MacDonnells had always rested their Irish claims upon their relationship to the extinct Bissetts. The extent of the lands once held by that family was very uncertain; but Sorley Boy never ceased his efforts to get rid of the MacQuillins, who had long held the Route, and upon whom the garrison of Coleraine habitually depended for provisions. Lady Agnes O’Neill, on the other hand, had the Campbell instinct for annexation, and endeavoured to set up her own son Donnell Gorme Macdonnell against his uncle. As the elder brother’s son he had perhaps the better legal right; but Sorley was supported by the clan. Tirlogh Luineach was under his wife’s influence, but had enough to do to hold his own against Shane O’Neill’s sons, and against the Baron of Dungannon. Norris said Tirlogh could do nothing without the Queen’s help; but even he seems to have been persuaded by Lady Agnes that Sorley’s followers resented his tyranny, and were ready to leave him.

After the loss of Dunluce Sorley went to Scotland for help, and Perrott agreed that Donnell Gorme should have a grant of the Bissetts’ lands in consideration of reasonable service. Donnell, on his part, undertook to entertain none but Irish-born Scots, to book the men of his country and be responsible for them, and to serve against his uncle or any other foreign Scot. MacQuillin made a contract for victualling Coleraine, and O’Donnell, whose wife was Donnell Gorme’s sister, made a treaty with Tirlogh Luineach, who agreed to maintain 300 English soldiers and to perform other services. Magennis and the Clandeboye O’Neills also made terms, and Perrott, finding no enemy in the field, returned to Dublin.[124]

Perrott, Ormonde, and Norris lift 50,000 cows.

The forest of Glenconkein.

The war being at an end for want of an enemy, Perrott thought that Scottish raids could best be prevented by clearing the country of cattle. Norris and Ormonde entered Glenconkein, now the south-western portion of Londonderry, but then considered part of Tyrone, and 50,000 cattle were collected in what was then an almost impenetrable stronghold. Twenty-five years later Sir John Davies described Chichester’s march though the district, ‘where the wild inhabitants wondered as much to see the King’s Deputy as the ghosts in Virgil wondered to see Æneas alive in hell.’ The woods were then said to be among the best in Ireland, and to be as extensive as the New Forest; but they had been wastefully treated, and it was feared that they would soon be exhausted. So completely was the work of destruction carried out that a report written in 1803 declared the county of Londonderry to be the worst wooded in the King’s dominions. In the sixteenth century a considerable population inhabited Glenconkein, who tilled such portions as were fit for tillage, and who looked upon the O’Neills as their superior lords. As had been the case in Kerry, fires marked the course of Ormonde’s march. Norris took much the same view of the Ulster problem as Sidney had done. Permanent garrisons must be maintained, and this would be the cheapest way in the long run. ‘Ireland,’ he said, ‘is not to be brought to obedience but by force; and albeit that some governments have been performed with fewer men, yet have these times served for nothing but to give breath for a further trouble, and then the country ruled by entreaty and not by commandment.’[125]

Perrott proposes to dissolve St. Patrick’s,

and to endow a university.

Among the private instructions given to Perrott by the Privy Council was one directing him to consider ‘how St. Patrick’s in Dublin, and the revenue belonging to the same, might be made to serve, as had been theretofore intended,’ for the erection of a college. This old plan of Archbishop Browne’s had been revived in 1564, and again abandoned in deference to the remonstrances of the threatened foundation; but it was very much to Perrott’s liking, and he adopted it with additions. The dean, Thomas Jones, had just been promoted to the see of Meath, and a principal obstacle had thus been removed. The Courts of Justice were at this time held in the Castle over the powder magazine, but the lawyers had also claims upon the house of Black Friars, on the left bank of the Liffey, where the Four Courts now stand. Ormonde and others had conflicting interests, but the Judges and Bar petitioned that they might be otherwise compensated, and that the law might be permanently lodged by the riverside. This was the plan favoured by the late Lords Justices, but Secretary Fenton, with whom Perrott agreed, cast eyes on the Friars as a convenient landing-place, and wished to turn it into a Government victualling-store. The Lord Deputy’s idea was to combine the two schemes; to let the judges sit in St. Patrick’s church, to convert the residence of the chapter into inns of court, and to found a university with the revenues. The two cathedrals, he urged, were too near together to be both useful, and St. Patrick’s was ‘held in more superstitious veneration’ than the one named after Christ. He thought 2,000l. might suffice for the erection of two colleges, and the surplus, which he estimated at about 700l., could go to eke out the revenue of Christ Church. ‘For the conversion of the whole church of St. Patrick,’ he told Burghley, ‘whatsoever shall or can be said to the contrary, it proceedeth from particular covetous humour without regard to the general good. I could name the sink if I listed whereinto the whole profit falleth under the colour of maintenance of a few bad singers.’ A reformer who begins in this way, though he be a king and not merely a viceroy, very seldom succeeds in effecting reforms.[126]

Loftus and Jones are too fond of money.

Adam Loftus was fond of money. He begged so unblushingly for himself and his relations, that the chapter of Christ Church, on granting one of his requests, made him promise, before them all, not to ask for anything more. Even this promise he afterwards tried to evade. He was accused of jobbing away the revenues of St. Patrick’s, and the late dean, who was married to his sister-in-law, earned a very bad name for wasting the substance of his deanery first, and afterwards of his bishopric. One extant deed in particular bears Swift’s indignant endorsement, made in 1714, as ‘a lease of Coolmine, made by that rascal Dean Jones, and the knaves, or fools, his chapter, to one John Allen for eighty-one years, to commence from the expiration of a lease of eighty years made in 1583; so that there was a lease of 161 years of 253 acres in Tassagard parish, within three miles of Dublin, for 2l. per annum... now worth 150l., and, so near Dublin, could not then be worth less than 50l. How the lease was surrendered, I cannot yet tell.’

St. Patrick’s rescued;

though Loftus liked a university in the abstract.

Archbishop Bancroft.

Loftus was accused of being interested in many such leases, and it was said that in defending St. Patrick’s he was really defending his own pocket. He had been dean himself, too, and very possibly he was not anxious for the inquisition which must have taken place had the cathedral been dissolved. On the other hand, the Archbishop could give good reason why Perrott’s plan should not take effect. St. Patrick’s, he said, was the only place in Ireland where a learned man, and especially a learned Englishman, ‘could, without imminent danger, thrust his head.’ There were twenty-six dignitaries, some of them very slightly endowed, and of these fifteen were university graduates. With the exception of one bishop, there were no good preachers in Ireland but those furnished by St. Patrick’s, and amongst them were Dean Jones, Thompson, the treasurer, Conway, the chancellor, and Henry Ussher, the archdeacon, who lived to be Archbishop of Armagh. Of three bishops who could preach, two had been promoted out of St. Patrick’s, and Christ Church neither had done nor could do anything in that way. He was ready to give what help he could towards the establishment of a university, but a university could not be maintained long if there were no benefices to bestow upon fellows. The prebends did not depend upon temporalities, but were all attached to parishes. Kildare was patron of two, but the others were in the Archbishop’s gift, and they were all opposed to Perrott’s scheme. Loftus himself was ready to resign rather than leave himself ‘a perpetual blot and infamy’ to his successor, for having consented to the destruction of his cathedral. Archdeacon Ussher was sent to England, and Loftus also employed Richard Bancroft, one of the prebendaries, to plead the cause of St. Patrick’s at Court. Bancroft became Archbishop of Canterbury, and gained lasting fame for his services in connection with the authorised version of the Bible, but appears to have resided very little in Dublin, though he held his preferment there for at least thirty years.[127]

The scheme makes Perrott and Loftus enemies.

Whatever may be thought of Loftus’s character, his arguments on this occasion were good, and Burghley felt them to be unanswerable. The thing could not be done, he said, without the consent of the prebendaries, and he asked Perrott how he would like to have his own salary diverted to some other use. Preaching was necessary as well as teaching, and there was no greater abuse in the Church of England than the transfer of livings to abbeys and colleges. Tithes had been instituted for the service of parishes, and he would never do evil that good might come. Perrott answered that the idea had not been originated by him, and that his instructions from the Privy Council, signed by Burghley himself with many others, would have warranted him in proceeding far more roughly than he had done. Where he seems really to have done wrong was in not showing this order of the Privy Council to Loftus, and in letting him suppose that he was acting of his own motion. Even after Burghley had given his opinion, he was unwilling to give up the scheme, and the Archbishop begged for a letter signed by the Queen herself. This was granted, and the royal missive was read to Perrott in the presence of Waterhouse and Sir Lucas Dillon. Even then the Lord Deputy was not silenced, and the result was bitter hostility between the Queen’s representative and the Chancellor Archbishop, who should have been his chief adviser.[128]

Three hundred executions in Munster.

While Norris was absent in the North, Sir William Stanley governed Munster, and improved the occasion by 300 executions. ‘This,’ he said, ‘doth terrify them so that a man now may travel the whole country, and none to molest him.’ The Lord President on his return declared the country was waste and depopulate. Even malefactors were scarce, and there was no chance of resettling the province but by importing people.

State of Connaught.

Forty-eight executions in Leinster.

Feagh MacHugh a prosecutor of thieves.

In Connaught Bingham complained that he was denied means to maintain the strict government necessary for a people who were not naturally inclined to civility. He hoped nevertheless to increase the revenue in time. From Leinster alone was there anything like a good report. The Master of the Rolls went circuit, and 48 prisoners out of 181 were executed on verdicts found by their own clansmen. Among them were two landowners of the Kavanaghs, who had regularly preyed upon the Barrow navigation, and whose property near Leighlin thus escheated to the Crown. White settled some dispute between chiefs and sheriffs, and visited Feagh MacHugh O’Byrne at Ballinacor, ‘where law never approached.’ Nor was the reconciliation with the notable partisan altogether hollow. About three months afterwards, fifty head of cattle were lifted in the Pale, and ‘carried with a pipe to the mountain.’ Feagh MacHugh followed, brought back the cows, and sent three of the reivers’ heads to Perrott. The piper and another were sent alive, and speedily hanged, and O’Byrne declared his willingness to send his own son, who had been implicated in the robbery. ‘Your lordship,’ said Perrott, ‘perhaps will marvel to hear that Feagh is such a prosecutor of theft, and will think it a great change that the O’Connors are ready to do good service; and the O’Mores, having put in pledges, do live without doing harm. In Munster only one of the Burkes is abroad in Aherlow woods with a 20 or 30 swords.’[129]

State of Ulster.

Perrott addresses the Parliament of England.

The Queen spares both money and thanks.

Exhaustion or despair had for a time quieted East, South, and West, but the North was still unsubdued, and Perrott felt that only permanent garrisons could secure it. He asked for 600 men, 25 to be levied in each of the 24 handiest counties of England and Wales. In common years the Queen had hitherto spent 30,000l. or 40,000l. a year over and above the Irish revenue, and the average expense was considerably more. If he might have 50,000l. for three years only, he would at the end of them hand over Ireland provided with a trained garrison of 2,000 foot and 400 horse, with seven walled towns of a mile in circumference, with seven bridges, and with seven castles; and the whole country might then be governed infinitely better and more cheaply than it had ever been before. He went so far as to write a letter to the English Parliament, addressing it as ‘most high and noble assembly.’ The malice of the Pope was urged, and also the certainty that foreign princes would again attempt Ireland, and make it a noisome neighbour to England. ‘Choke up the sink at once,’ he exclaimed, ‘make one charge of all, conceiving you do but lend so much upon large interest.’ But even Perrott was not rash enough to address Parliament without Elizabeth’s leave, and the despatch was forwarded through Walsingham, who consulted Burghley and promptly suppressed it. The Queen, they said, would certainly resent anyone but herself moving Parliament. She had now resolved to help the Dutch, and was the more determined to spare treasure in Ireland. No real danger was to be apprehended from the Scots, about whom she meant to deal roundly with King James. But Perrott was thanked for his services, and some minor requests were granted. A few weeks later, fearing perhaps lest he should be puffed up, she wrote with her own hand as follows:—‘Let us have no more such rash, unadvised journeys without good ground as your last journey in the North. We marvel that you hanged not such saucy an advertiser as he that made you believe so great a company was coming. I know you do nothing but with a good intention for my service, but yet take better heed ere you use us so again.’

He could only reiterate, what seems to have been the fact, that thousands of Scots had really landed, and had run away before he could reach them.[130]

FOOTNOTES:

[107] Birch’s Memoirs, i. 27; Ormonde to Burghley, Jan. 26, 1584; Lords Justices to Ormonde, Dec. 31, 1583.

[108] Second examination of Christopher Barnewall, Aug. 12, 1583.

[109] The text is taken from the official correspondence, Lords Justices to Robert Beale, Oct. 8, 1583; to Walsingham, Oct. 20, Dec. 10, March 7 and 8, 1584, April 14, and July 9; Walsingham to the Lords Justices, April 28, 1584. It appears from the Catholic accounts that combustibles were poured into the boots. That of the Jesuit Holing, who died in 1599, may be taken as contemporary; it is printed in Spicilegium Ossoriense, i. 87. ‘Tormenta nova illi parantur; nam ejus pedibus atroces hæreticorum ministri ocreas, butiro, oleo, et sale oppletas, ac—quod longe crudelius fuit—crudo ex corio conditas subjecerunt; postea, vero, catenis simul et compedibus alligatum, aperto in loco, nempe in medio castri—ubi spectaculum mundo, hominibus, et angelis—ubi ab omnibus videri potuit, lento igne apposuerunt, illicque detinuerunt, donec ipso corio consumpto, butiro, oleo, et sale ferventibus, ossa non cute pro carne tecta verum etiam omnino munda fuerint relicta.... Postea in ergastulum et obscurissimum carcerem reducitur, et post sex menses tanquam traditor et reus criminis læsæ majestatis, ab iniquo judice ad mortem condemnatus est. Ad extremum, post inaudita tormenta et carceris molestias, albescente cælo, ne forte tumultus fieret in populo qui ejus exemplo, doctrina, et constantia permotus ad ejus defensionem perveniret, ignorantibus civibus patibulo suspensus martyrium consummavit Dublinii circa annum 1585, mense Maio.’ Other accounts, which agree in essentials, are collected in Brady’s Episcopal Succession, ii. 11, 599. The Valicellian MS. there quoted, says a withen rope was used to protract his agony; but Bacon tells us that this kind of halter was generally used in Ireland, and that a rebel objected to any other.

[110] Ormonde to the Privy Council and to Burghley, Jan. 11, 1584, with enclosures; Wallop to Walsingham, Jan. 21.

[111] John Browne to Hatton and Walsingham, Nov. 19, 1583; Clanricarde to the Privy Council, Jan. 31, 1584; Lords Justices to the Privy Council, March 28, 1584; Wallop to Leicester, Jan. 26, 1581, in Wright’s Elizabeth. The Four Masters bear out Browne’s statement as to John Burke’s popularity; see also a damaged paper calendared under Nov. 1583 (No. 99). The Earl’s pardon passed the Irish Council, June 28, 1584. Lady Mary married O’Rourke. ‘That honest woman,’ Bingham wrote some years later, ‘is deceased in childbirth’ (to Gardiner, June 10, 1589).

[112] Lords Justices to the Privy Council, Sept. 12, 1583. Fenton to Leicester and Warwick, Sept. 13, in Carew; Hooker. This is one of the last, if not the very last trial by combat in the British Islands. Lord Reay’s case, in 1631, is in Howell’s State Trials, vol. iii., with a minute account of the ridiculous ceremonies proper to such a mode of trial; but in that case the fight did not actually take place.

[113] Reasons of Brian MacGilpatrick O’Connor &c. (translated out of Irish), Oct. 15, 1583. The brothers seem to have subsided, or as some would say risen, into farmers.

[114] The memorial of the Privy Council and the Queen’s instructions are both printed in Desiderata Curiosa Hibernica; see also Perrott’s Life, and Ormonde to Burghley, March 13, 1584. Perrott landed at Dalkey, June 9, and was sworn in by Loftus in St. Patrick’s on the 21st.

[115] Ormonde to Burghley, March 13, 1584 (from Carrick); docquet of letter, April 4; Ormonde to Burghley, May 19 (from Abermorles); June 4, (from Carew).

[116] Order for a hosting, June 22, 1584; Wallop to Walsingham, July 9; Fenton to Walsingham, July 10.

[117] Henry Sheffield to Burghley, July 12, 1584; Memorial for Mr. Edward Norris, Aug. 6; Bingham to Burghley, Aug. 7.

[118] William Johnes to Walsingham, July 14, 1584.

[119] Perrott’s Memorial for Mr. Edward Norris, Aug. 6, 1584.

[120] Wallop to Burghley, Sept. 17, 1584; to Walsingham, Oct. 14 and Dec. 4; Sir V. Browne to Burghley and Walsingham, Oct. 18; to Walsingham, Dec. 11; Waterhouse to Walsingham, Nov. 28; Lord Thomond to Burghley, July 14, 1585; Vice-President Norris to Perrott, Dec. 30, 1585.

[121] Fenton to Burghley, Aug. 19, 1584; Perrott to the Privy Council, Aug. 21; Bingham to Walsingham, Aug. 30; John Norris to Burghley, Oct. 16.

[122] Walsingham to Hunsdon, Aug. 24, 1584, in Wright’s Elizabeth; Privy Council to Perrott, Aug. 31; Perrott to Privy Council, Sept. 15.

[123] Perrott to Privy Council, Sept. 15 and 17.

[124] Norris to Burghley, Oct. 16, 1584. The various agreements are in Carew, from Sept. 18 to Oct. 7. Perrott returned to Dublin within a few days of the latter date. On the 20th he sent Walsingham ‘Holy Columkill’s cross, a god of great veneration with Sorley Boy and all Ulster.... When you have made some sacrifice to him, according to the disposition you bear to idolatry, you may, if you please, bestow him upon my good Lady Walsingham or my Lady Sidney, to wear as a jewel of weight and bigness, and not of price and goodness, upon some solemn feast or triumph day at the Court.’

[125] Norris to Burghley, Oct. 16, 1584. See also (in Russell and Prendergast’s Calendar) Sir John Davies to Salisbury, July 1, 1607, and Aug. 5, 1608, and the second conference about the Plantation, Jan. 12, 1610; and J. C. Beresford’s report in the Concise View of the Irish Society, p. ccxxii. In the Irish Archæological Journal, vol. i. p. 477, Ormonde’s contemporary panegyrist, who is an unconscious satirist, says:

Twice he set Glenconkein on fire,
This wealthy and tender-hearted chieftain;
He left no herds around Lough Neagh,
This seer so provident and bountiful.

According to O’Donovan (Four Masters, 1526) Glenconkein originally composed the parishes of Ballinascreen, Desertmartin, and Kilcronaghan.

[126] Sir J. Cusack to Cecil, Feb. 2, 1564; Memorial for Perrott in Desiderata Curiosa Hibernica; Fenton to Burghley, Jan. 31, 1584; Petition to the Judges, Feb. 16; Perrott to Walsingham, Aug. 21; and to Burghley, Oct. 22.

[127] Loftus to Walsingham, Oct. 4, 1584; and March 21, 1585; to Burghley, March 18, 1585; Petition of the prebendaries (with enclosures), Dec. 1584. See also Ware’s Bishops, arts. ‘Jones’ and ‘Loftus,’ and Cotton’s Fasti. Writing to Burghley, Jan 10, 1585, Loftus says the only great abuse was the non-residence of prebendaries, some of them by her Majesty’s express command, and he proposes to remedy this by calling on them to reside, or resign. Bancroft was one of these privileged absentees. For Swift’s remark see Monck Mason’s Hist. of St. Patrick’s, book ii. chap. iii. sec. 8, where another disgraceful lease made by Jones is also mentioned. Loftus was an accomplice in this later case.

[128] Burghley to Perrott, Nov. 6, 1584; Loftus to Burghley, June 7 and 11, 1585. Writing to Burghley on the previous 10th of Jan., Loftus says Fenton had dealt earnestly for the overthrow of St. Patrick’s. ‘After all,’ says Monck Mason, ‘the opposition made by Loftus must be considered as quite reasonable. Had the scheme taken effect there would scarcely have remained a single benefice in the gift of the Archbishop; the Crown presented to all the dignities in the other cathedral, and the Chapter to all the prebends.’—Hist. of St. Patrick’s, book i. ch. 14.

[129] Stanley to Walsingham, Sept. 17, 1584; Norris to Burghley, Nov. 20; Sir N. White to Perrott, Sept. 16; Bingham to Walsingham, Nov. 24 and Dec. 21; and to Burghley, Dec. 24; Perrott to Burghley, Dec. 4.

[130] Perrott to the Privy Council, Oct. 25, 1584; to Walsingham (enclosing that to the High Court of Parliament), Jan. 17, 1585; to the Queen, April 1; Walsingham to Perrott, Feb. 1; the Queen to Perrott, April 14. Perrott’s proposed towns were Athlone, Coleraine, Sligo, Mayo, Dingle, Lifford, and Newry; bridges at Coleraine, Lifford, Ballyshannon, Dundalk, the Munster Black Water, the Feale, and Kells in Clandeboye; castles at Ballyshannon, Meelick, Castle Martin in the Route, at Gallen in King’s County, Kilcommon in Wicklow, and on both the Blackwaters.

[CHAPTER XLI.]

GOVERNMENT OF PERROTT, 1585-1588.

The Scots invade Ulster in force.

Colin Campbell, 6th Earl of Argyle, died in September, 1584, leaving his eldest son a minor, and this event added to the confusion generally prevalent in the Western Isles. Sorley Boy, as usual, contrived to take advantage of the situation, and persuaded an assembly of chiefs who met in the island of Bute to support his Irish claims. 1,300 Scots, under Angus MacDonnell, landed on Rathlin, a much greater number being ready to follow, and Sir Henry Bagenal hastily moved from Carrickfergus to meet them. The ships which should have co-operated failed to appear, and the Scots attacked him in his camp at Red Bay. In spite of the late negotiations Donnell Gorme was in command, and it is evident that the islanders were not really worsted, though the English officers put a good face on the matter. Sir William Stanley was hastily summoned from Munster to take charge of Coleraine, and Norris was also sent for. Stanley accompanied Bagenal as far as Glenarm, and then marched inland to Ballycastle. The Scots had threatened to burn Ballycastle, but a skirmish with Bagenal proved that they could not do this, and they then withdrew in a northerly direction.[131]

They are driven away.

Stanley arrived at Ballycastle on New Year’s day, with two companies of foot, and joined Captain Carleile, whose troop of horse were already quartered in Bunamargey Abbey. Captain Bowen’s company held the fort of Dunanynie on a hill to the westward. At eleven o’clock that night the Scots made a sudden attack, set fire to the thatched roof of the church with brands fixed to the points of their spears, and fell upon the infantry encamped outside. Stanley rushed out in his shirt and succeeded in rallying the men, but many were hurt by arrows. He himself received one in the back, another pinned his arm to his side, and a third penetrated his thigh. Some horses were burned in the church, and none could be got out in time to pursue the Scots, whose enterprise failed in the main. But a fleet of galleys from Cantire passed in full view, and a very unusual calm prevented the Queen’s ships from following. Stanley sent for reinforcements, and Perrott laid all blame on the English Government for not sending the 600 men he had asked for. But the real difficulty was to feed the garrisons already established. There was no good harbour. Ballycastle Bay is rocky, and everything had to be landed upon rafts. Some provision vessels were driven back to Holyhead; others in great danger rode out the gales off Carrickfergus and Coleraine, ‘where the sea raiseth such a billow as can hardly be endured by the greatest ships. And scarce once in fourteen days those winter seas will suffer any small vessel to lay the ships aboard to unlade the victuals.’ Money, as usual, was wanting, and the supply service was none of the best. The captains were charged 42s. for corslets, which might be bought of better quality in any London shop for 25s. or less. Useless articles were sent, and whoever else might be to blame, Perrott was quite sure that the Master of the Ordnance in Ireland deserved hanging.[132]

Sorley Boy offers to become a good subject.

Sorley Boy found that the garrisons, notwithstanding all difficulties, were likely to become permanent in Ulster. He was growing old, there had been attempts to dispose of him by foul means, and on the whole he thought it would be better to make terms for himself. He therefore sought an interview with Captain Carleile, and professed willingness to live and die a faithful subject of Queen Elizabeth, on condition of being acknowledged as owner of at least a large part of the Bissett estate. He only asked, he said, for such terms as Sidney had been willing to grant some ten years before. But Perrott preferred strong measures. At first he wished to go himself, but the Council dissuaded him, and he even allowed Norris to return to his province. The Lord President was very angry at being brought to Dublin merely to suit the Council’s humour, and at having to spend 300l. in bringing up 40 horse and keeping them serviceable. Perrott, he said, had never really meant him to go to Ulster. Such honours as might be had there he wanted for himself, but he liked economising at other folks’ expense. The officers stationed in the North proved sufficient, and hunted Sorley from place to place till he was glad to escape to Scotland. Before April 26, no important Scot was left in Ulster, and Perrott was at leisure to meet his Parliament on that day.[133]

Perrott’s Parliament—the House of Lords.

A list of this Parliament has been preserved, and it is interesting to compare its composition with that held by Sussex in 1560. The spiritual peers summoned were twenty-six in place of twenty, but in both cases it is doubtful how far the more distant bishops attended. The temporal peers had increased from twenty-three to twenty-six, but the earldom of Tyrone and the barony of Dungannon were both centred in the person of Hugh O’Neill, who petitioned the House for the higher title conferred by patent on his grandfather, and whose claim was allowed.[134]

The House of Commons—counties; cities and boroughs.

Twenty-seven counties are mentioned instead of twenty on the former occasion, Connaught being now divided into Galway, Mayo, Roscommon, and Sligo. Cavan, represented by two O’Reillys, and Longford represented by two O’Ferralls, appear for the first time as shires, and so do Longford and Wicklow. Wexford and Ferns are given as separate counties, and Tipperary, reverting to ancient custom, is divided into the County and the Cross. Ards disappears as a separate county. All the shires named appear to have made returns. Thirty-six cities and boroughs are enumerated instead of twenty-nine, only Carrickfergus and Downpatrick neglecting to make returns. Athy is omitted, and Cashel, Inistioge, Dingle, Callan, Philipstown, Maryborough, Swords, and Downpatrick are added. For some unexplained reason the counties of Cork and Sligo returned three knights each.[135]

Representation of the Irish race.

Irish chiefs in Dublin.

Besides the O’Reillys and O’Ferralls the house of Commons contained but few of the native race. An O’Brien and a Clancy sat for Clare. Sir Hugh Magennis divided Down with Sir Nicholas Bagenal, and Shane MacBrian O’Neill was returned, but did not attend, as Captain Barkley’s colleague for Antrim. Among the burgesses we find a Shee or O’Shea sitting for Kilkenny, a Gwire or Maguire for Trim, a Kearney for Cashel, a Hurley for Kilmallock, a Casey for Mullingar, and a Neill or O’Neill for Carlingford. John Ffrehan, who was returned for Philipstown, was most likely a Celt also. The bulk of the members were of old Anglo-Irish race, with a good sprinkling of more modern settlers, of officials, and of military officers. John and Thomas Norris sat for the counties of Cork and Limerick respectively, Sir Warham St. Leger for Queen’s County, Sir Richard Bingham for Roscommon, and Sir Henry Harrington for Wicklow. Nearly all the chieftains of Ireland, though not actually members of Parliament, obeyed the Lord Deputy’s summons, and he strictly insisted on English costume being worn. ‘Please your lordship,’ said old Tirlogh Luineach, ‘let my priest attend me in Irish apparel, and then they will wonder at him as they do now at me; so shall I pass more quickly and unpointed at.’[136]

Parliamentary procedure.

The Speaker.

Rules were laid down for the conduct of business in the House of Commons. Members were not to wear arms in the House, they were to speak standing and uncovered, and only once on each reading of a Bill. Freedom of speech was granted, and freedom from arrest for members, their servants, and their goods. On the other hand no member was to disclose ‘the secrets either spoken or done in the House’ to any stranger, under such penalties as the Speaker, with the assent of the House, should think proper to inflict. One rule may seem strange to the present age, in which parliamentary debate has come to be so largely a matter of flouts and gibes and sneers. Every member was enjoined ‘to frame his speech after a quiet and courteous manner, without any taunts or words tending to the reproach of any person in the said House assembled.’ The first struggle was about the election of a Speaker. Nicholas Walshe, Chief Justice of Munster and member for the city of Waterford, was put forward by Perrott. Ormonde had a very good opinion of him, and Perrott, when President of Munster, must have learned his value. The opposition, though strong, was fruitless, and Walshe was duly chosen Speaker.[137]

The Parliament is hard to manage.

A prorogation.

Perrott had not been easily induced to abandon his scheme for the dissolution of St. Patrick’s. He continued to attack Loftus, but nevertheless gave him the chief control over the drafting of Bills; and the Chancellor was accused of purposely drawing them so as to arouse opposition. By Poyning’s law, and the Acts explaining it, these Bills had to be sent to England and returned after passing the Privy Council. If disapproved in this form, they could not be amended without sending them to England again. Travelling was tedious, Parliaments were short, and thus there was a risk that all legislation would be stopped. One Bill was for extending to Ireland all the English laws against Popish recusants, and this was certain to arouse the fiercest animosity. Another contained provisions derogatory to the privileges of the peerage. Desmond’s Bill of Attainder as amended contained eight names instead of twenty times that number, and made so many reservations that it would have been almost useless to the Crown. Nearly all the other Bills went too far or not far enough, but the difficulty might have been avoided by suspending Poyning’s Act, as had been done in 1537 and 1569. The landowners and lawyers of the Pale said that they feared to make the Viceroy despotic, but Perrott said that they dreaded all legislation favourable to the Crown. The bill only passed the Lords by one vote, of which the validity was disputed, Lord Lixnaw having given his proxy first to Lord Slane, who opposed, and afterwards to Lord Dunboyne, who supported the bill. The Chancellor took it privately from Dunboyne, and counted the absent peer among the ‘contents.’ Upon this or some other pretext the Commons threw the Bill out on the third reading by a majority of thirty-five. Perrott looked upon this check as a disgrace to himself and a hindrance to the Queen, and prorogued Parliament for a few days. This enabled him to bring the Bill in again, but it was lost by a reduced majority, although Ormonde’s friends, who had at first opposed, now voted with the ‘ayes.’ Partly by his rudeness, and partly by his determination to prevent jobs, the Lord Deputy had made many enemies, and six Englishmen turned the scale against the Bill. ‘And thus,’ said Perrott, ‘they have not only overthrown the repeal of Poyning’s Act, that should have set them at liberty to treat of that and all other things necessary for this State, but also dashed most of the statutes that were penned in Ireland and sent back confirmed from England, as, namely, that for the safety of the Queen.’[138]

Agitators.

The chief opposition to Perrott’s measures came from the Pale, and among the leaders were Sidney’s old antagonists Richard Netterville and Henry Burnell. ‘These popular fellows,’ said Perrott, ‘or good countrymen, as they would be gloriously termed, have been ever of this humour against all governors, and some of them, namely Netterville and Burnell, have been in the Tower of London for causes of far less moment than this is.’

A fair system of taxation rejected.

One great cause of opposition was a Bill proposing to equalise ploughlands, and to impose a tax of 13s. 4d. in lieu of cess on each ploughland throughout the whole country. The Pale had hitherto paid when Irish countries were not charged, and the native chiefs were now willing to come to an arrangement. But even in the counties which had always contributed there were many permanent exemptions, and still more fraudulent evasions. A new survey had thus many terrors, and, as is so often the case, threatened interests were more powerful than arguments founded on considerations of public policy. The Pale offered a lump sum of 1,200l. in lieu of all cess; but this was far less than had always been paid, and Perrott indignantly refused it. The chance of making the whole country voluntarily contribute to the expenses of government was thus unhappily lost. The Irish chiefs, who had come prepared to agree with the Lord Deputy, now left Dublin in far worse humour than they had reached it, and the plan of making them English subjects was indefinitely postponed. Religion was at the bottom of the whole difficulty, and one of the Pale patriots said, in open Parliament, that ‘things did prosper in Henry V.’s and former kings’ times when the mass was up.’ Perrott was willing and anxious to punish his parliamentary opponents, but required orders from home first, ‘because these kind of people by the mild dealing of England have ever found more favour there than hath been for the good of this State.’[139]

Small results of the session.

A stranger in the gallery.

Parliament was a second time prorogued on May 25, and it did not meet again for eleven months. The only legislative results of the first session—or, more properly speaking, of the first two sessions—were an Act for the attainder of Baltinglas and his brothers, and an Act for the restoration in blood of Laurence, the son of the old Geraldine rebel James Delahide. A German nobleman who was in Dublin during the session is said to have been much struck by Perrott’s stately appearance at the opening of Parliament. He had, he said, travelled through Germany, Italy, France, and England, but had never seen anyone so majestic, and he asked for his portrait to carry home with him. And this presence, coupled with substantial fair-dealing, no doubt made Perrott popular with the masses and with the Irish chiefs. With officials and members of council it was different, for they felt the weight of his hand. Had he been as courteous as he was anxious for the Queen’s service, his fate might have been very different. A reformer can never hope to be really liked by those who desire the maintenance of abuses; but a soft hand is no less necessary than a stout heart.[140]

Eloquence of Sir John Norris.

The oratorical honours of the session were carried off by John Norris. Fenton said he would deserve the Queen’s special thanks had he done her no other service, and Loftus, himself a great preacher, pronounced him to be the best speaker in the House, both for force of reasoning and eloquence of delivery. But Norris himself had no wish ‘to be drowned in this forgetful corner,’ as he called Ireland, almost in the very words of a still more remarkable man nearly a century and a half later. He longed to be again in the Netherlands, and thought that he could save Antwerp with 20,000l. Once lost, it would never be regained. Had his advice been taken, Ghent and Bruges might have been retained; but the Walloon provinces were now past hope, and the Dutch would have to yield unless they received foreign help. His prayer was heard, and a commission to his brother Thomas to execute the office of Lord President in his absence was signed on the day before the Irish Parliament met. Immediately after the prorogation he left Dublin, and was in Flanders a few weeks later.[141]

Ulster again invaded by Scots,

who surprise Dunluce,

to Perrott’s great disgust.

Norris was gone, and Stanley had returned to Munster, when the Scots again invaded Antrim in some force. 170 English soldiers encountered 1,200 Scots and Irish, near Carrickfergus, and Perrott again moved to Ulster. He approved and confirmed a deed by which Tirlogh Luineach handed over the southern half of Tyrone to the newly-acknowledged Earl, reserving the northern half to himself, with such tribute as he might be able to collect from Maguire and O’Cahan. Wallop and Loftus, who were left in charge of the Pale, saw it was quite impossible for the Lord Deputy to keep the Scots at bay without garrisons and fortresses more permanent than the Queen was inclined to pay for. Perrott was really of the same opinion, but he persevered in the hopeless task. There were, he said, more than 2,000 Scots in Ulster, combined to set up Shane O’Neill’s sons. Journeys to the North had always been allowed, and he could not see why he, of all Deputies, was to be kept in enforced idleness. He did, however, return to Dublin after a short absence, for the orders to save money were peremptory. The army was almost literally naked, and many soldiers for sheer want took service with the Irish. The natural result was not long delayed. Perrott had returned to Dublin early in September, and on the 1st of November, Dunluce—about the capture of which so much fuss had been made—was once more in the hands of the Scots. Peter Cary, the constable, a man of English blood and Ulster birth, had but fourteen soldiers, of which several were Irish; and, what was perhaps more important, he had a Scotch mistress. Ropes, which are said to have been made of withes, were let down at night by two of the Irish warders, and fifty Scots climbed over the battlements. Cary, whose orders not to keep Irishmen in the fort were strict, refused quarter, and he and his English soldiers were killed after a desperate resistance. ‘I do not,’ said Perrott, ‘weigh the loss, but can hardly endure the discredit. As things are purposed now any man is fitter for the place than I am.’ James VI. had promised Perrott to punish his subjects as rebels should they again invade Ireland; but he had not the power, nor perhaps the will, to keep his promise. Queen Elizabeth’s thoughts were now concentrated on foreign politics, and economy was her one object in Ireland. It was even proposed to disband companies lately raised, and necessarily composed of natives, since Englishmen could not be found to serve without pay or clothes. ‘Thus,’ said Wallop, ‘have we trained and furnished Irishmen to serve the enemy’s turn.’ Walsingham could only say that Perrott might have lived in better season under Henry VIII., when princes were resolute in honourable attempts. ‘Our age has been given to other manner of proceedings, whereto the Lord Deputy must be content to conform himself as other men do.’[142]

Composition in Connaught.

Unsuccessful with his parliament, with his council, and with the great men of the Pale, Perrott found the chieftains of Connaught still amenable to reason. Ten years before, Sidney had found them willing to hold their lands of the Queen and to pay rent, but the completion of the contract was Perrott’s work. The commissioners named were Bingham as governor, the Earls of Thomond and Clanricarde, the Baron of Athenry, Sir Tirlogh O’Brien, Sir Richard Burke of Mayo, O’Connor Sligo, O’Rourke, O’Flaherty, and others, and they proposed that the Queen should have a quit rent of 10s. a quarter out of all arable and pasture land in Connaught and Clare. There were to be no other exactions except certain days’ labour for fortifications or other public buildings. Contributions of horse and foot on warlike occasions were to be matter of special agreement. Anxious for peace among themselves and convinced that they could not make head against the State, the chiefs agreed to these terms, in the hopes of obtaining a firm and just government. To make things pleasant, some special privileges were granted to a few important people, and it was calculated that a revenue of rather less than 4,000l. a year would be secured to the Crown. Less than one-third of the whole soil was really included in this settlement; waste lands, water, and fraudulent concealments will account for the rest. The plan of the composition was good, but the result did not fulfil Perrott’s expectation. In so extensive an area many were dissatisfied with their lot, and the Government was neither strong enough nor steady enough to enforce order among a rude people.[143]

Perrott’s personal troubles.

His traducers.

Perrott claimed to be a careful husband of the Queen’s resources, and rather ostentatiously professed his contempt for the interested criticism of others. But Elizabeth’s parsimony increased with her years, and she was only too ready to listen to those who told her she was being robbed. She directed a stringent inquiry into the revenue, suggesting that arrears had been allowed to accumulate, that improper concessions had been granted, that crown leases had been given without due inquiry, that personal allowances had been made without exacting service in return, and in short that everyone’s interests had been regarded but her own. ‘It is not meant,’ she said, ‘that the possession of lands and chattels lately escheated by rebellion should be in the power and authority of the Lord Deputy, but to be stayed at her Majesty’s will and pleasure.’ This and other similar hints cut Perrott to the quick. No doubt his despotic temper sometimes induced him to overstep the bounds of strict law, and his enemies were always on the watch. He was accused of making money unfairly out of household and table allowances. It was said that his accounts showed annual liveries, whereas they were in reality biennial; he allowed no fires even in bitter February weather, and there was no good cheer in the Castle. ‘I had little thought,’ he indignantly exclaimed, ‘that any part of her Highness’s honour had depended on my supper. I am sorry that men’s eyes are so narrowly bent on my diet, and I doubt will watch my uprising and downlying too.’ He had always provided supper for those who could enjoy it; as for himself the doctors had forbidden him that insidious meal for nearly a quarter of a century. And yet, he said, he would rather die of indigestion than incur the imputation of niggardly conduct. ‘I pray you,’ he wrote to Burghley, ‘help to rid me hence, that I may avoid all these spiteful occasions of grief and unkindness.’[144]

Rumours of invasion.

Miserable state of the army.

Preparations for the settlement of Munster, and speculations as to the coming of the Armada, occupied the early days of 1586. A rover, who put into Cork Harbour, declared that 20,000 Spaniards were intended for Ireland. Redmond O’Gallagher, whom the Pope had provided to the See of Derry, and whom the Queen had not sought to displace, was once more on his travels in search of aid from France or Spain, and Munster lay open to attack. There was no garrison even at Limerick, which was called the strongest place in the province, and the guns had fallen to the ground from their rotten carriages. The muskets were useless from rust, and the feathers had damped off the arrows. Cork, Waterford, and the rest were in no better case. Wallop had to pledge his plate for 100l., and the captains were in debt through vain attempts to clothe their shivering men, who ran off to the Irish chiefs to look for brogues and frieze mantles. The Vice-Treasurer anxiously begged for 20,000l.; if the Spaniards landed it would cost 300,000l. to get rid of them. But Elizabeth’s thoughts were all given to the Continent, and better than any man in Ireland she probably understood the real impotence of Spain.[145]

Parliament—the Desmond attainder.

Parliament dissolved.

In the second session of Perrott’s Parliament the chief business was the Desmond attainder, and there was so much opposition that some of the judges were sent for to assure the House of Commons that Ormonde’s rights should be saved. In the bill which then passed, Desmond and his brothers John and James, James Fitzmaurice, and thirty-four others were named, their lands being vested in the Crown without inquisition, but without prejudice to innocent parties. Eighty-two others were attainted by name in another Act, which contained the same reservations. Some of the late Opposition had apologised, but an Opposition still remained, and Perrott was not allowed to punish it as he wished. The Commons rejected a bill vesting the lands of persons thereafter attainted in the Crown without the usual formalities, and they finally refused to grant a subsidy of 13s. 4d. upon every ploughland. The session lasted less than three weeks. At the dissolution Speaker Walshe addressed the Lord Deputy at length, praising the constitution, lamenting that the Queen was an absentee, and hinting pretty plainly that the subject was overburdened. ‘Lamps,’ he said, ‘cannot give light that are not maintained with oil.’ Perrott’s answer, if he gave one, is not recorded; but Elizabeth was so little pleased with her Parliament of Ireland, that she summoned no other during the remaining sixteen years of her reign.[146]

The MacDonnells in Antrim.

Sorley Boy becomes a subject,

and a great landowner.

Perrott’s last invasion of Ulster, and his correspondence with the King of Scotland, had done little good. Dunluce was now in Sorley Boy’s hands, and the English Government inclined to make friends with him. Sorley hesitated to go to Dublin, and in the meantime his eldest son Alaster was killed in Tyrconnell. After being wounded in a skirmish he swam across a river, but we found him, says Captain Price, ‘by great chance in a deep grave, strewn over with rushes, and on every side six old calliox weeping... but a quick corse therein, and in memory of Dunluce we cried quittance with him, and sent his head to be set on Dublin Castle.’ Perrott was inclined to make the most of success, and to break off the negotiations, ‘as though,’ said Fenton, ‘by this blow hydra’s head were seared up.’ But his loss made the old chief readier to treat, and he came to Dublin on protection, after writing a humble letter. It is said that an official brutally showed him his son’s head over the Castle gate, and that he proudly answered, as if to justify Fenton’s simile, ‘my son has many heads.’ He made a formal submission, prostrating himself before a portrait of Queen Elizabeth, admitting that he had no legal right in Ulster, and particularly condemning his own folly ‘in leaving such men in the Castle of Dunluce, within this her Highness’s land, as should say they kept it in the name, or to the use of, the King of Scots, a Prince that honoureth her Majesty and embraceth her favour.’ The land he held had been taken by force, and he was willing to keep it on such terms as the Queen might be pleased to grant. Upon this basis a treaty was concluded, by which Sorley had a grant by knight service of all the land between the Bann and the Bush, and of much to the eastward, and he was made Constable of Dunluce, while resigning his claim to property in it. He became a denizen, and having got all that he had fought for, gave Perrott no further trouble. A great part of the Glynns, comprising the coast between Larne and Ballycastle, had already been granted to his nephew Angus. Thus were the MacDonnells confirmed in the possessions for which they had struggled so long.[147]

Bingham in Connaught.

The Mayo Burkes rebel,

and are harried by Bingham,

who strikes terror into all.

Bingham soon tried how real was the submission of western Connaught, for he held sessions at Galway, and hanged seventy persons, of whom some were gentlemen. This he modestly called the cutting off of a few bad members. He then, after a three weeks’ siege, took Clonloan Castle from the O’Briens and killed all the garrison. He went next against the Hag’s Castle in Lough Mask, which was held by some Burkes, who had risen rather than attend Galway sessions. An attack in boats failed, but the garrison slipped away by water, and resolved, according to the annalists, to defend no more castles against the Queen of England. Resistance was vain, and most of the chiefs came in to Bingham, among them being Richard Burke, a noted partisan, who was called the Hedge or Pale of Ireland. It was proved that he had been intriguing with the Scots, and he was promptly hanged, by the sentence of a court-martial. Peremptory orders then came from Perrott to give the rest protection, and the Burkes immediately broke out again, saying that they would have a MacWilliam, though they fetched him out of Spain. They would have no sheriff, and attend no sessions, nor serve a heretic hag, but would transfer their allegiance to the Pope or the Catholic king. They were near 800 strong, and Bingham would not attack them without Perrott’s orders, who gave them as soon as he saw clearly that conciliation had done no good. After three months’ delay, Bingham again took the field, with Clanricarde and others, and had a parley with the rebels at Ballinrobe. They stood out for their old terms, whereupon Bingham proclaimed them all traitors and hanged the hostages in his hands. Three thousand cows were driven from the mountains between Mayo and Galway; but the annalists assert that the guilty escaped, and that only the innocent were plundered. The soldiers, they say, killed old men, women, and boys, ‘and hanged Theobald O’Toole, supporter of the destitute and keeper of a house of hospitality.’ The proclamation had, however, the effect of making Bingham’s enemies distrust each other. The Joyces, a tribe of Welsh origin, very long settled in Galway, the Clandonnells, or gallowglasses of Scottish descent, and the various septs of Burkes, kept separate; while the O’Flaherties, who had lately been in rebellion, were now glad to attack their neighbours at the Governor’s instance. Sir Murrogh of the Battleaxes, chief of the O’Flaherties, plundered the Joyces, while his kinsman Roger, with a flotilla, prevented them from escaping into the islands. The corn was not yet ripe, but Bingham meant to burn it when the time came, and thought that his subjects would then be in no case to make dangerous alliance with the Scots. The bad spirit showed signs of spreading, and a messenger from Munster reported that Leicester was dead in Holland, and that his army was destroyed. Two great Spanish armies, he gave out, had landed in England, there was a Spanish fleet at Baltimore, James of Scotland was preparing for war, and, to crown all, Queen Elizabeth was at the point of death. Bingham managed to catch the tale-bearer, and hanged him as a spy, and finding that they had little chance against this pitiless soldier, most of the rebels came in; ‘so pined away for want of food, and so ghasted with fear within seven or eight weeks, by reason they were so roundly followed without any interim of rest, that they looked rather like to ghosts than men.’ Except a small body of the Burkes, who remained in arms at Castlebar, no one was left to greet the Scots when they at last appeared.[148]

The Scots invade Connaught,

and are pursued by Bingham.

Two years before, Donnell Gorme, a brother to Angus, had been granted nearly two-thirds of the Glynns which were then in his possession. But he afterwards rebelled, and was ready for anything. Messengers from the Mayo Burkes earnestly sought his help, and being joined by his brother, Alaster, he brought 2,000 Redshanks from the isles. The brothers landed in Innishowen, and all the loose Scots in Ireland gathered round them, so that their force was uncertain. Only a week before their appearance on the Erne, Wallop said they were less than 600 bare-tailed beggars, and not at all dangerous. They plundered O’Dogherty and Maguire, and waited at Belleek for news of their Connaught friends. Bingham, who was at Balla in Mayo, heard that they were likely to enter his province by the north shore of Lough Ree, hurried to Roscommon, found that he had been misled, and then made his way to Sligo by forced marches. The Scots were encamped on the Erne, and he sent to ask what they wanted. The MacDonnells said their friends had drawn them over by offering the spoil of Connaught: that like all other soldiers in the world they had no shift but to serve the highest bidder, and that they would take what they could until hindered by the strong hand.[149]

Bingham watches the Scots.

Who draw towards Mayo.

Bingham had with him but 60 regular horse and 400 foot. Of these 300 were half-trained Irishmen, and upon his 200 kerne and 200 Irish horse he could place little reliance. He stood on the defensive till help came; and after a fortnight’s delay the Scots advanced stealthily towards the Curlew hills, and passed Bingham’s scouts on a very dark and stormy night. 50 Irish horse watched the bridge at Collooney, but they made no fight, and 400 Scots passed before the infantry came up. The rest of the intruders crossed higher up by a ford Bingham had never heard of, but they lost some 50 men in subsequent skirmishes. Bingham then discharged his Irish auxiliaries. ‘They were,’ he said, ‘to me a great trouble, and very chargeable, and during their being in my company, I could keep no enterprise secret, and yet but mean men when they come to action, for at the charge they forsook me.’ Their hearts were not in the work, and no real help was given but by Clanricarde and two or three of his men. While waiting for reinforcements, Bingham crossed the Slieve Gamp mountains near the sea, with a view to saving the great herds of cattle in Tireragh. Mayo was the real destination of the Scots, but Bingham’s information was uncertain, and he moved towards Lough Gara, where he was joined by 40 horse and 250 foot which Perrott had ordered up from Munster. He had now nearly 600 men, of which less than 100 were horse, and this was his greatest strength. It had been supposed that the Scots would seize Roscommon; but they moved ‘the clean contrary way’ towards Ballina, giving out, and perhaps believing, that Bingham’s forces had abandoned him, and that the country was theirs. Sir Richard’s spies brought the news at noon, ‘before our men could kill their beef and prepare it to refresh themselves with’; and he followed the Scots at once through the woods to Bannada Abbey. A priest and two gentlemen of the O’Haras guided him by Aclare to Ardnarea on the Moy, where the strangers lay waiting for the Burkes to join them.

Bingham follows the Scots by night,

and annihilates them at the Moy.

Bingham left Castlemore-Costello in the afternoon of Wednesday, halted at Bannada Abbey two hours after nightfall, and marched by moonlight to Aclare. With the morning light, he says, ‘we forsook the highway, and took through the mountains with horsemen, footmen, and carriage, carrying all our own forces as in a “heyrse” together, keeping the bottoms and lowest passages as near as we might by circumferent ways, and with as great silence as was possible.’ Reaching firm ground about nine o’clock, Bingham learned that the enemy were only two miles away, and pushed on at once with his cavalry, the advanced guard actually riding into their camp unchallenged. The Scots got into order as quickly as they could, Bingham skirmishing until his foot came up. He had the advantage of ground, and the Redshanks broke at the first charge. ‘I was never,’ said Captain Woodhouse, ‘so weary with killing of men, for I protest to God, for as fast as I could I did but hough and paunch them.’ In an hour all was over. About eighty swam naked over the Moy, and were mostly killed by the natives whom they had come to fight for; the rest became entangled in each other, and, to use Bingham’s own expression, were carried out to sea in ‘plumpes.’ Both their leaders were slain. A thousand corpses lay on the field, and 500 more were found next day about the banks and shallows. ‘The number of their fighting-men slain and drowned that day we estimated and numbered to be 1,400 or 1,500, besides boys, women, churls, and children, which could not be so few as as many more and upwards.’ If it be true that Bingham only lost two or three men, and those chiefly through their own folly, the surprise must have been more complete than we should infer from the English accounts. ‘They were,’ says the Four Masters, ‘first aroused from their profound slumbers by the shrieks of their military attendants, whom the Governor’s people were slaughtering throughout the town. The Scots then arose expertly, and placed themselves, as well as they were able, in order and battle array.’[150]

Perrott insists on going to Connaught.

Bad feeling between Perrott and Bingham.

Bingham had asked for only 250 men from Perrott, and had particularly requested that the Deputy should not enter Connaught. He complained that the aid was tardily sent, and that much of the effect of his victory would be taken away if he were not left to follow it up in his own way. The Council also opposed Perrott’s expedition, but notwithstanding this and the rebuke he had received from the Queen for visiting Ulster under similar circumstances, he set out upon the journey, but had only reached Mullingar at the date of Bingham’s victory. He went on to Galway, though his retinue were a heavy burden to the province. He took cattle for their use at a forced price, and thus broke the composition which had been made in his name, but chiefly through Bingham’s exertions. Perrott afterwards declared that the journey only cost the Queen 100l., that Bingham had requested his presence, and that the Council had given him leave to go. But it is impossible to reconcile these statements with those made in a hostile sense. At first the Council altogether refused their consent, and then, when some of Perrott’s opponents were absent and more of his supporters present, they agreed, by no means unanimously, that he should go to the borders of Connaught only. After the overthrow of the Scots there was no longer any valid reason for going forward. Bingham complained that at Galway the Lord Deputy did nothing but hunt up evidence against him, so as, if possible, to make it appear that his misgovernment had made the Burkes rebel. The chief men of the clans were, however, induced to sign a paper in which they declared their confidence in the Governor. They said their revolt was caused by what they could not deny to be commendable reforms. It had been reported that ‘this new governor would make their churls their masters, and that the gentlemen were like to become beggars for want of their cuttings and spendings, and such other exactions as they compelled the tenants to yield unto them at their own devotion.’ This and the destruction of their old tribal organisation, by abolishing the name and power of MacWilliam, were the real causes of the outbreak; and surely we need look no farther. It is impossible to say whether Perrott was jealous, or whether he really disapproved of Bingham’s proceedings; but he indulged in strong and even coarse language, and that could not fail to excite prejudice against him.[151]

Perrott quarrels with his Council

Like many of his predecessors, Perrott chafed under the restraint of the Council. The English or official party at the Board were inclined to lessen his power by frequent references to the Home Government. On this side were Lord Chancellor Loftus, Sir Nicholas Bagenal the Knight-Marshal, Vice-Treasurer Wallop, and Secretary Fenton. The Great Seal was in the Chancellor’s hands, the signet in the Secretary’s, and Perrott had thus the mortification of seeing his opponents concerned in every act of importance. Most lawyers of Irish birth took the other side, and of these the most active were Sir Nicholas White and Chief Baron Sir Lucas Dillon. Loftus and his friends generally leaned on Walsingham, while their opponents had more hope from Burghley. Fenton was in England during the latter half of 1585 and until March in the next year, and Perrott, who knew what the Secretary’s influence would be, expected his recall, and was ready to welcome it.

and thereby displeases the Queen.

The Queen did not blame her representative directly; but she sent home despatches by Fenton which he greatly disliked, though they were very moderate and considerate in terms. The Council was to be more often consulted, and the Secretary was directed to read all instructions from headquarters openly at the Board at least once a quarter. This was no new thing, but a rebuke may have been implied in giving Fenton the initiative. In secret matters the Deputy was to confer with the English councillors, and offices in his gift were to be bestowed only on fit persons, which seems to suggest that he had made some improper appointments. Perrott considered these orders derogatory to his dignity, and he begged to be relieved.[152]

Perrott quarrels with Archbishop Loftus,

and sends the Chief Secretary to gaol.

Challenges the Governor of Connaught,

and assaults the marshal.

The argument between the Lord Deputy and the Lord Chancellor about St. Patrick’s was so loud that it reached the Queen’s ear, and she wrote to them both, enjoining a reconciliation. Burghley added some fatherly advice to Loftus, and an open breach was avoided. But the Archbishop lost no opportunity of doing the Deputy an ill turn. “Contempt of God’s religion,” “immoderate government,” “abhorred and loathed of the best sort of this people,” were among the expressions he allowed himself to use in writing to Walsingham. With Burghley he was more guarded, acknowledging that the private mislike between him and the Deputy made open complaint unbecoming, yet complaining very strongly at the same time. There was not much outward scandal, for the Chancellor’s mitre protected him in some measure, and a dignified ecclesiastic had probably enough self-restraint to avoid irritating language. Others were less fortunate. Secretary Fenton owed 20l. to the Deputy, and 50l. to one of his retainers; and for this small debt—the liability to pay which he had not denied—Perrott had this high official hurried off through the streets on market-day, and ignominiously cast into the common gaol. For this extraordinary proceeding the Queen took her Deputy severely to task, and ordered Fenton’s immediate enlargement. ‘Considering,’ she said, ‘how inconvenient it is at all times, but especially in so doubtful and perilous a season as this, to have you and the rest of our Council there divided, as we hear you are by factions and partialities, to our just offence and mislike, the slander of your government and prejudice of our service, whereof we doubt not but you will, for your own part, have that regard that in honour and duty appertaineth.’ Bingham’s duties in Connaught kept him from the Council-board, but Perrott gave him as little countenance as possible. There was a standing dispute about the house at Athlone, which was in the Deputy’s hands, and which Bingham naturally wanted for an official residence. Perrott’s journey into the province against the Governor’s advice made things worse, and Bingham complained of hard usage, ‘especially in bad speeches and uncourteous terms, such as for modesty’s sake I omit to write here.’ Theobald Dillon, collector of composition rents in Connaught, was supported by the Lord Deputy against Bingham; but the Council heard Dillon’s charges, and declared them unfounded. The evening before the Council gave their decision, and doubtless after the result of the hearing was known, Stephen Seagrave, constable of the Castle, came to Bingham, on Perrott’s part, with a great white truncheon in his hand, and informed him that his lordship was ready for the combat. Bingham said he never heard of any such combat before, and the Lord Deputy admitted having sent Seagrave. The provocation alleged was mere hearsay: that Lord Delvin had told Perrott that Sir Richard had told Lieutenant Jacques that he would fight the Deputy if he were out of office; and Seagrave was told to tell Bingham that the duel might take place at once. Still worse was the treatment of Sir Nicholas Bagenal, who was near eighty years old, and who had served the State well for half a century. A dispute arising in the Council Chamber, Perrott actually struck the old man. According to Bagenal, he knocked him down; others thought the blow was nothing, but that the aged marshal fell in the confusion. Bagenal held up his stick, but not till the Deputy had first laid hands on him. They were separated; and then this edifying dialogue took place: ‘You do lie,’ said the Deputy, ‘if you think I have dealt evil in anything.’

‘You lie,’ said the Marshal, and to mend it said, ‘if you were not Deputy, I would say you lie, for I care not for Sir John Perrott.’

‘If I were but Sir John Perrott,’ said the Deputy, ‘I would teach him that came from a tailor’s stall, to use me thus.’

‘It makes no matter,’ said the Marshal.

‘Well,’ said the Deputy, ‘because you doat, I will bear with you; otherwise I would commit you to the prison.’

‘If you did,’ said he, ‘I would come out, whether you would or not.’

‘Very well, Mr. Marshal,’ said the Deputy, ‘get you hence, for it is not reason to talk with you. A man would think you are drunk.’

‘Nay, you are drunk,’ said the Marshal to the Deputy.

After this it is hardly worth while to repeat Wallop’s complaints, that his labours in Munster were slighted, and that the Lord Deputy sometimes indulged in violent language against him, and against Chief Justice Gardiner.[153]

Perrott’s troubles.

Perrott’s health may partly excuse him, for he suffered much. ‘By God, Mr. Carew,’ he wrote, ‘I daily grow weaker and weaker of body through the great pain I have of the stone, growing more and more upon me in this slimy country. In Connaught, if I travelled one day, through the grating of the stone in my kidneys I was fain to rest another; and in the end the Irish ague took me, that I was seven days like to die in Galway, and am not yet thoroughly recovered thereof, nor shall not (I believe) pass this next year, except her Majesty, of her great grace, give me licence to go to the Spa the next spring; a suit that I made to her Highness nine years agone. It were better her Majesty preserved me to serve her in some other place, than I to be wilfully cast away here.’ Ireland was a prison where he could do no good to himself nor to any other man. ‘Help your poor friend out of this hell,’ was his prayer to Leicester. If he could but see Elizabeth all would be well, for she had promised not to listen to detractors who were his enemies because he served one God and one Queen; but now her Deputy was brought into greater contempt than ever Sir John Perrott was. One can sympathise with the man; but no good work could be expected from a governor who had personally quarrelled with all the more important members of the Council, by whose advice he was bound to act.[154]

An Irish regiment sent to Holland,

under Sir William Stanley,

who deserts to the Spaniards.

Stanley wished to invade Ireland,

but never effected anything.

Ireland being comparatively peaceful, it occurred to Elizabeth, or to some of her advisers, that an Irish force might be raised for service in the Netherlands. Perhaps it was also thought that the more loose swordsmen were sent out of the country the more likely it was to remain quiet. The officer chosen was Sir William Stanley, who had done good service in many parts of Ireland, and who had been rewarded by a reversionary grant of the Mastership of the Ordnance. The Catholic party was at this time in the ascendency at Deventer, and had given trouble by introducing provisions into the beleaguered city of Zutphen. Leicester sent Sir William Pelham to secure Deventer, and Stanley, whom he must have known well in Ireland, was ordered to support him. Pelham secured the municipality in Protestant hands, and Leicester then handed over the place to Stanley, who was known to favour the old religion, and suspected of being concerned in plots, and who had been associating with Spaniards for months. Leicester’s chief object in making this appointment seems to have been to annoy Sir John Norris, from whose control, with almost incredible folly, he specially excepted Stanley and his Irishmen. The fort of Zutphen, which had been lately taken, was entrusted to Rowland Yorke, an adventurer of the worst character, who soon opened communications with the Spanish garrison of the town. Stanley’s Irish soldiers were allowed into Zutphen to hear mass; and Leicester, though he was warned of what was going on, took no steps to prevent it. When the Earl went to England, Yorke and Stanley had ample time for plotting, and Deventer was given up to the Spaniards in due course. But treason rarely prospers. Yorke, who was promised a large reward, died under suspicious circumstances before he could enjoy it. Stanley seems to have been more disinterested; but he received money from Philip, joined Parma’s army, and was seen by Robert Cecil during his mission to France in 1598, who notes that the renegade was fain to pull his cap over his face. Nor did all Spaniards approve Stanley’s conduct, if it be true that in passing through Seville ‘he was well handled of the country, for they unarmed him, unhorsed him, reviled him for his lewd doings towards his prince, and made him go on foot; but coming to the King he was in favour, and punishment used on such as thus dealt with him, and the officers displaced for suffering it.’ An invasion of Ireland was contemplated under Stanley’s leadership, and he looked forward with pleasure to the service. ‘I will,’ he said, ‘ruin the whole country as far as Holland and the parts about Wezel (Ijssel) and Emden in six days, and in Ireland I will open such a game of war as the Queen has never seen in her life.’ Against his advice the descent on Ireland was abandoned, and he sank into obscurity; it was even reported that he had gone mad. An Italian named Giacomo de Francesqui, and sometimes called Captain Jacques, who had been his lieutenant in Ireland, was arrested by Burghley’s orders. This officer was on friendly terms with Florence MacCarthy, and was known to have been acquainted with Ballard; and it was thought that he might be utilised by the Spaniards in Munster. Most of Stanley’s Irish levies doubtless left their bones in the Low Countries, but a few returned to Ireland, and eleven of these poor men were pardoned by Elizabeth nearly seven years after the treason at Deventer. ‘They were,’ she said, ‘innocently forced to disobey us.’ For many years there were reports that Stanley was coming to Ireland, but he never came. In Cheshire old Sir Rowland Stanley ‘grievously lamented his son William the traitor, maintaining his son in Cambridge, and also relieving his wife and children, having no other maintenance.’[155]

The Irish in Spain.

Drake is the terror of Spain.

Irish merchants partisans of Spain.

If Stanley’s advice had been taken, Elizabeth might have been reduced to serious straits, for it was impossible to prevent a Spanish descent, and there were but scant preparations to meet an enemy on shore. Early in 1586 it was rumoured that there would be an invasion on May Day, and Perrott asked for a small cruiser to gather news on the Biscay coast. Merchants from Spain and Portugal reported that Irishmen were free from the embargo laid on English shipping, and that the many Irish residents in the peninsula made no secret of what was going on. Forty thousand men had been collected; eighty-five ships were ready, all but the rigging; Irish refugees from Rome and elsewhere flocked to Spain. Irish sailors were often detained by the Spanish Government, and occasionally told their adventures to Perrott, who also employed a secret agent, one Davy Duke, who knew Italian and Spanish, passed as a Jesuit, and had letters of introduction from a papal bishop imprisoned in Dublin Castle. Miles Brewett, mariner of Dublin, told how he had been taken before Santa Cruz, and how the Marquis had said that he knew Perrott very well, regretting that he was such a Lutheran, and wishing for one of his best horses and for one of his best hawks. The Admiral asked Brewett much about Ireland, and he answered that he had never known it so quiet. One of James Fitzmaurice’s sons boasted to him that 5,000 men were going to Ireland, that Feagh MacHugh was ready to welcome them, and that all Ireland would do the same, except Dublin, Waterford, and Drogheda. But Brewett heard from others that Philip was weary of the Irish, and that his subjects called them beggars. Their priests cried out against Duke, who, after learning all he could, went over to Bayonne and wrote boldly to say that he was going to his mistress Queen Elizabeth. He bade the Pope farewell, saying that he liked of his countrymen’s company, but not of their learning. As the plot thickened, news of Santa Cruz came constantly to Waterford, and Drake’s very successful predatory cruise was freely discussed by merchants and others. One said that the great sailor must have taken Cadiz if he had landed at once; for that the whole population were at a comedy, where eighteen persons were crushed to death in the panic caused by his appearance—a lady with 16,000 ducats a year being among the victims. Even in the heart of Castille, Spaniards hardly thought themselves safe. Philip and his train were amusing themselves on some artificial water, and a lady who was invited to enter the royal barge refused to do so, ‘for fear of Sir Francis Drake.’ The usually impassive monarch is said to have lost his temper, and banished the timid, or perhaps only sarcastic, lady from court, swearing a great oath that he would be revenged on England. To bring this happy result about, he ordered that all Irishmen and Scots should be used as Spaniards. Baltinglas had left a brother who assumed his title, and offered to invade Ireland if the King would give him 5,000 men. Philip was willing to do so much, but the Irish gentlemen clamoured for twice or thrice as many, and he then said they did not know their own minds, and should have none at all. Despairing of Spain, Fitzmaurice’s son and some others proposed to go to Ireland and make terms with Perrott, but this plan was given up, owing to rumours of some severe measures of the Irish Government, and they again began to talk glibly of invasion. Santa Cruz had good information about Ireland from Limerick and Waterford merchants, ‘who, under colour of their conscience lie at Lisbon these two years past, and hath their wives and children at home, and doth nothing but hearken for news of the state of England and Ireland, and whatever they can hear they report to the Cardinal and Marquis, and deliver the same with more than they can learn, and all to win themselves credit.’ The English court were not blind to the danger of Ireland, though almost to the last Elizabeth seems hardly to have realised the Armada. Everything was wanting for the defence of Ireland, and the Queen would not listen. ‘If,’ said Perrott, ‘any number of enemies arrive here, the cities and towns of this kingdom, and consequently the realm itself, will stand in great danger of losing, and the few Englishmen that be here in like danger of perishing.... I wish that the desire of peace (whereof I have little hope) may not cause forgetfulness, or breed peril to lose that we have.’[156]

The cess.

The regular revenue of Ireland was small, and as an army was absolutely necessary, it had been usual to levy irregular taxes upon the shires of the Pale. There were plenty of lawyers to condemn taxation without the consent of Parliament; but in this case the prerogative had been allowed, though there were many long disputes as to the amount of the aid, and as to its incidence. Cess of some kind had been exacted since the time of Edward III., and Sidney, who understood the subject thoroughly, describes it as a ‘prerogative of the Prince and an agreement and consent of the nobility and Council to impose upon the country a certain proportion of victual of all kinds, to be delivered and issued at a reasonable rate, and, as it is commonly termed, the Queen’s price, so that the rising and falling of prices makes the matter easier or heavier to the people.’ The cess had been regularly levied since the latter years of Henry VIII., and a practice had crept in of applying it to the Lord-Deputy’s household as well as to the army. The uncertainty of the impost was the worst part of it, and Elizabeth wished to substitute a regular money payment. Temporary arrangements were made, and the total sum leviable was fixed at 2,100l.; the cultivated parts of Kilkenny, Tipperary, Wexford, Carlow, King’s County, and Queen’s County being made contributory, as well as the original Pale. Perrott tried to abolish the cess altogether, and to substitute a fixed land-tax of 1l. on every ploughland. This was reduced to 13s. 4d., but the Bill failed in the House of Commons, and Perrott had to fall back upon the composition of 2,100l.[157]

Bingham is sent to Holland,

but soon returns to Ireland.

The Council acquitted Bingham of all Dillon’s charges; but no peace followed, and Perrott continued to pile up accusations against him. For the sake of quiet the English Government resolved to utilise Bingham’s energies in Holland, and he took the opportunity to sum up his services for Burghley’s information. Connaught was at peace, though he had little help from his official superior, and Elizabeth was sure to be pleased at his having made the province pay its own expenses. ‘The Lord Deputy,’ he said, ‘took the Composition book from myself, and would not give me so much as a copy of that which in effect was my own work, whereby I was driven to search it out with infinite labour and pains.’ Bingham had been given to understand that he should succeed Lord Willoughby in Holland, and be allowed to appoint a deputy in Connaught. But the Queen named Sir Thomas Le Strange to act during his absence, while giving particular orders that none of his officers should be displaced. Bingham saw no prospect of advancement in Holland after the departure of Leicester, on whose patronage he relied, and returned to England with him or before him. He was admitted to the Queen’s presence, the house at Athlone was given up to him, in spite of Perrott and of Wallop’s claim to a leasehold interest in it, and he returned to Ireland much stronger than he had left it.[158]

Perrott’s credit declines.

Perrott leaves Ireland.

The restoration of Bingham to his government marks the time when the scale finally turned against Sir John Perrott. His faults of temper have been already sufficiently commented on; he was in bad health; and worse things than ill-health or ill-temper were whispered about him. But Ireland was manifestly peaceful, and by appointing Sir William Fitzwilliam the Queen showed that she expected quiet times and wished for an unambitious policy. Whatever chagrin Perrott may have felt at his supersession, he certainly expressed none. All he asked was that his successor might come at once, so as to let him take the waters at Bath; Spa being now out of the question. Fitzwilliam, however, lingered six months; and when at last the time came for delivering the sword Perrott presented to the Corporation of Dublin a silver gilt bowl bearing his arms and crest, and the words relinquo in pace. In handing over the badge of office he called his successor to witness that all was peaceful, and hoped that he would say so to the Queen’s Council. Fitzwilliam answered that if he could leave it half as well he should do his Queen and country good service. ‘There is,’ continued Perrott, ‘no ill-minded or suspected person in this kingdom, which can carry but six swords after him into the field, but if you will name him and shall desire to have him, notwithstanding that I have resigned the sword, yet... if they come not in on my word, I will lose the merit and reputation of all my service.’ Fitzwilliam replied that it needed not, for all was well. Three days later Perrott left Ireland for ever. A great number of noblemen and gentlemen came to see him off, among whom old Tirlogh Luineach was conspicuous. That representative of an order that had almost passed away accompanied him to the ship and would not put off until the last moment. He watched the retreating sail until it was below the horizon, and then shed tears ‘as if he had been beaten.’ Nor was it only lords and chiefs who mourned for Perrott. The poor came forty miles to see him pass, praying for his long life and striving to take his hand if possible, or to touch the hem of his garment. When he asked them why they did so, they answered, ‘that they never had enjoyed their own with peace before his time, and did doubt they should never do so again when he was gone.’[159]

State of Ireland when Perrott left—Connaught and Leinster.

The quiet state of Connaught is perhaps most justly attributable to Bingham, but the Lord Deputy might take full credit for Leinster. Yet it was perhaps well that Fitzwilliam was polite, for the home province, though not in rebellion, was full of brigands who would certainly not have come at Perrott’s call. Feagh MacHugh, with his 100 swordsmen, gave a ready refuge to vain and light persons, but he thought it politic to pay his respects to the new governor. His son-in-law, Walter Reagh, one of the bastard Geraldines who had long given trouble, was ready for any desperate feat. Captain Thomas Lee planned his destruction, but Mrs. Lee was an Irishwoman and kept the outlaw well-informed. Walter Reagh promptly murdered one of his followers who had been in communication with Lee, and the captain, not unnaturally, separated from his wife. Sir George Carew had assigned his constableship of Leighlin to Dudley Bagenal, son of the old marshal, whom Perrott justly called a ‘very unadvised man.’ Bagenal had treated many of his Irish neighbours abominably, yet he neglected to keep his proper quota of English, and garrisoned his fort with kerne at 40s. or 3l. a year. Walter Reagh having stolen some cattle, the constable pursued with eighteen men, was drawn into an ambuscade, killed and mutilated. Walter Reagh was not hanged until ten years later.[160]

Munster. The Desmond forfeitures.

The settlement hangs fire.

Irish and English tenants.

Munster was exhausted by war, and the only danger was from Spain. Some said soldiers were as little needed in Kerry as in Surrey or Middlesex, but little could be done in the way of colonisation while rumours of the Armada filled the air. The land, however, was roughly surveyed, and the seignory of 12,000 acres was fixed as the basis of a plantation, fractional parts being assigned in proportion to the colonists’ means. The younger sons of gentlemen and substantial yeomen were to be encouraged to take leases under the undertakers, as the great grantees were called, and English artisans and labourers were also to be provided, while settlers from the same country were to be placed near one another. Difficulties soon arose. A disposition was shown to stretch the Queen’s title, and this caused universal distrust. Thus Fitzgerald of Decies, who had been created a viscount for his staunch loyalty against the Desmonds, and who had always claimed to hold of the Queen, was required to prove his title strictly. If he could be made out Desmond’s tenant, then was Decies at the Queen’s mercy. It was no wonder that Mr. Surveyor Robins had stones thrown at him. Legal questions sprang up like mushrooms after rain. Who were innocent of rebellion, and how far were conveyances to uses fraudulent? ‘At Cork, Kilmallock, and Clonmel,’ said the Solicitor-General, ‘we spent five weeks in hearing the claims and titles to her Majesty’s lands found by office. We had every man’s bills, and fair evidence showed us, whereby it appears that the Irishry (especially by their daily feofments to uses) have practised as many fraudulent shifts for preserving their lands from forfeiture as in England; and albeit their evidence be fair and very lawlike without exception, yet because fraud is secret and seldom found for her Majesty by jury, we have put the undertakers for the most part in possession, who, dwelling but half a year upon the lands, shall have better intelligence to discover the false practices than the commissioners can possibly learn out. They plead their cause by lawyers, who almost all of them in those parts have purchased titles against her Majesty, so as we have had much trouble to pacify and content them in some reasonable sort by persuasion of further hearing hereafter, and full allowance of their good titles.’ The Irish took advantage of the delay to take possession of land everywhere, and three or four years after Desmond’s death, the population was five times as great as it had been at the end of the war. A native squatter would offer a higher rent than any English settler, and everyone saw that the Plantation would fail in its main provisions. Between surveyors, lawyers, and undertakers it was impossible to make a clear title to anything, and the settlement hung fire during Perrott’s administration. But some of the undertakers came over and resided, leaving the final measurement of lands to a future day. They quarrelled among themselves, and made confusion more confounded.[161]

Ulster.

Tyrone and Tirlogh Luineach.

Ambition of Tyrone.

In Ulster Tirlogh Luineach was getting old, while Hugh O’Neill, representing the bastard Dungannon branch, grew daily stronger. Hugh was now Earl of Tyrone, with a title to all he held in his country or district, reserving 240 acres to the Crown for the fort at Blackwater, and with a grant of markets and fairs. The new Earl covenanted to let Tirlogh enjoy the chiefry during his life, to abide by the decision of a royal commission as to boundaries, rents, and services, and not to make estates to any of the smaller chiefs called urraughts, without consent of the State. Tirlogh was thus placed in possession of that part of Tyrone which lies north and west of the Mullaghcarne mountains, while receiving 1,000 marks from the Earl for the remainder. But Tyrone grasped at all which Con Bacagh or Shane had enjoyed, and Perrott saw that he was restrained by fear only. His wife was O’Donnell’s daughter, and with that chief’s help he hoped to crush Tirlogh. But Hugh, the son of Calvagh, claimed the succession in Tyrconnell, and joining his force to that of Tirlogh he attacked Tyrone’s camp at night. The latter’s force was much superior, but he was surprised, defeated, and obliged to fly to Dungannon. Hugh was afterwards murdered by order of Ineen Duive, who wished to clear the succession for her own son. When Fitzwilliam reached Dublin, he found the Earl and Tirlogh there, lodging complaints against each other. Tyrone’s defeat gave great delight to many, and David Power, who had some personal experience of his dealings, said publicly at Dundalk that he would climb so high as to break his neck, while Perrott thought ‘nothing had done so much good in the North these nine years.’ But the troubles in Ulster were only beginning.[162]

FOOTNOTES:

[131] Perrott to Walsingham, Nov. 16 and 27, 1584 (with enclosures); to Burghley (with enclosures), Jan. 15, 1585.—Gregory’s Western Highlands, chap. iv., where Perrott’s siege of Dunluce, and other matters belonging to 1584, are placed under 1585.

[132] Stanley to Walsingham, Jan. 5, 1585; George Peverley, victualler, to Walsingham, Jan. 5; to Burghley, Jan. 20; Perrott to Walsingham, Nov. 16, 1584; to Burghley, Jan 15, 1585. The Master of the Ordnance was the same Jacques Wingfield who so narrowly escaped professional ruin in 1561.

[133] Composition of Lord Deputy and Council with Sorley Boy, Oct. 17, 1575; Sorley Boy to Perrott and to Captain Carleile, Feb. 5, 1585; Captain Barkley to Perrott, Feb. 26; Norris to the Privy Council and Fenton to Walsingham, March 7; Beverley to Burghley, April 1; Perrott to Walsingham, April 24.

[134] Lists printed from the roll in Tracts relating to Ireland, vol. ii. p. 134. Kildare, who died in England this year, no doubt had his writ of summons, but does not seem to have attended. He was ill in London on Aug. 3.

[135] Lists as above.

[136] Lists as above. Perrott’s Life, p. 199; see also a partial list of members calendared at May 11, 1586. The Four Masters, under 1585, give a sort of Homeric catalogue of the chiefs present.

[137] Tracts relating to Ireland, vol. ii. p. 143. Ormonde to Burghley, Oct. 20, 1583; Sir N. White to Burghley, May 27, 1585.

[138] Sir N. White to Burghley, May 27, 1585; Perrott to Walsingham, May 30; the Poyning’s Suspension Bill is in Carew, June 1585, No. 578.

[139] Perrott to Walsingham, May 30 and June 18, 1585. He believed that the opposition would collapse if firmly handled, and that firmness would save the Queen’s pocket. ‘If they escape,’ he said, ‘farewell to my reputation both with Irish and English.’

[140] Irish Statutes, 27 Eliz.; Perrott’s Life.

[141] Norris to Walsingham, March 3; Fenton to Walsingham, May 24; Loftus to Burghley, May 31. ‘I am forced to play at small game to set the beasts here a-madding, merely for want of better game.... You think, as I ought to think, that it is time for me to have done with the world; and so I would, if I could get into a better, before I was called into the best, and not die here in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole.’—Swift to Bolingbroke, from Dublin, March 21, 1729.

[142] Perrott’s Life; James VI. to Perrott, Aug. 8, in Carew; Perrott to Walsingham, Aug. 10 and Nov. 11; to Burghley, Sept. 8 and 24; Sir H. Bagenal to Perrott, Sept. 3; Wallop to Burghley and Walsingham, Nov. 18; Walsingham to Archbishop Long, Dec.

[143] Composition Book of Connaught and Thomond, Oct. 3. Details may be studied in the appendix to Hardiman’s edition of O’Flaherty’s West Connaught. As to the measurement it may be observed that Clare, to take one county as an example, is estimated at 1,260 quarters. Making allowance for the difference between Irish and English measure, this gives rather less than 250,000 statute acres for all Clare. The real area is about 828,000 acres. The gross acreage of all Connaught and Clare is about five millions and a quarter, and a rental of 4,000l. gives much less than a farthing per acre.

[144] Perrott to Burghley, Sept. 8 and 24, 1585. The ‘Articles’ referred to were sent to Ireland by Fenton in the following spring, and are printed in Desiderata Curiosa Hibernica, i. 63.

[145] Perrott to Walsingham, Jan. 27, 1586; Sir G. Carew to Walsingham Feb. 27; to Burghley, Aug. 2, 1588, in Carew; Lord Deputy and Council to the Privy Council, Jan. 28, 1586; description of Munster, 1588, p. 530; Wallop to Burghley, Oct. 1585 (No. 19) and Nov. 18; to Walsingham, March 7, 1586; Vice-President Norris to the Privy Council, Oct. 18, 1586.

[146] Printed statutes, 28 Eliz. caps. 7 and 8; Perrott to Walsingham, June 18, 1585; Lords Gormanston, Slane, Howth, and Trimleston to the Queen, Dec. 10, 1585. Parliament was dissolved May 14, 1586; and see Speaker Walshe’s speech on that day.

[147] Perrott’s Life, p. 216; Hill’s MacDonnells of Antrim, pp. 171-187; the Queen to the Lord Chancellor and Council, Feb. 26, 1586; Captain Price to Walsingham, March 31; to Burghley, April 15; Fenton to Burghley, April 19 and June 14, 1586; Submission of Sorley Boy, June 14. The Indentures are in Carew ii. 427.

[148] Docwra’s Relation; Four Masters, 1586; Bingham to Walsingham, Feb. 5, 1586; to Perrott, July 30 and Aug. 16 and 26; to Loftus, Aug. 30; Wallop to Walsingham, Aug. 23. The execution of Richard Oge Burke, called Fal fo Erinn, was made a principal charge against Bingham in 1595 and 1596, when his accusers seemed to have driven him finally from Ireland. Bingham justified this execution, since most of the Burkes (including the Blind Abbot, afterwards MacWilliam) declared, under their hands and under the sanction of an oath, that Richard Oge had persuaded them to resist the Governor, to bring in Scots, and to hold the Hag’s Castle against him. Seven members of the Council of Connaught were present at the execution, ‘Sir Richard having no other means of ordinary trial at that time by reason of the great troubles.’—Discourse of the late rebellion of the Burkes, with all the signatures, Nov. 17, 1586; O’Flaherty’s West Connaught, p. 186.

[149] Wallop to Walsingham, Aug. 23, 1586; Maguire to Perrott, Aug. 28; Bingham to Loftus, Aug. 30; answer of Donnell Gorme, &c. (Sept. 22). Bingham says he marched seventy-two miles in two days.

[150] Docwra’s Relation (‘not slain past two persons’); Four Masters, 1586; Stowe’s Chronicle; Bingham to Burghley, Oct. 6, 1586, ‘not one man slain by the enemy;’ to Loftus and Perrott, Sept. 23; to Wallop, Oct. 18; Captain Woodhouse to Fenton, Sept. 23. Bingham owns to ‘divers men hurt and galled.’

[151] Bingham to Burghley, Oct. 8 and Dec. 5, 1586; to Wallop, Oct. 18; Wallop to Burghley, Nov. 15; Irish Council to Burghley, Sept. 27; true discourse of the cause, &c., Nov. 16 and 17; Perrott’s note of his expenses, Sept. (No. 43).

[152] The despatch sent by Fenton is printed in Desiderata Curiosa Hibernica, i. 49; Perrott to Walsingham, Jan. 12, 1586, and four letters to Burghley, on April 12, 15, 16, and 26, from White, Fenton, Perrott, and Wallop respectively.

[153] Perrott’s Life, p. 243. Loftus to Burghley, April 26 and Dec. 4 and 12 1586; to Walsingham, Sept. 30; Bingham to Burghley, Dec. 5 and Feb. 26, 1587; acquital of Bingham under the hands of the Council (Loftus, Bagenal, Bishop Garvey of Kilmore, Gardiner, C.J., and Fenton), Feb. 20, 1587; Wallop to Walsingham, May 31, 1586; Perrott to Leicester, April 18, 1587, in Carew; the Queen to Perrott, Feb. 9, 1587. For the altercation with Bagenal see the Marshal’s own passionate and affecting letter to the Privy Council, May 15, 1587, and another to Leicester in Carew; the Council’s account, May 15; and White’s account, May 23. See also, for Perrott’s behaviour, Wallop to Burghley and Walsingham, April 26, and July 5, 1588.

[154] Perrott to Sir George Carew, April 27 and Oct. 30, 1586, and Aug. 9, 1587; to Leicester, April 18, 1587 (all in Carew); Perrott to Walsingham, March 7, 1588.

[155] The above is chiefly from Motley’s United Netherlands, chap. xiii.; the story of Stanley’s ill-treatment at Seville is in a letter of Dec. 17, 1587, from Bishop Lyons of Cork to Fenton, on the authority of Galway merchants lately from Spain; Privy Council to Perrott, Jan. 30, 1587; warrant for arrest of Captain Jacques, Feb. 9. For reports about Stanley see the Irish and Foreign S. P. passim; the pardon for the eleven soldiers is in Morrin’s Patent Rolls 35 Eliz. No. 31. For Sir Rowland Stanley see Sir Roger Wilbraham to Burghley, May 10, 1590.

[156] Perrott to the Privy Council, Jan. 28, 1586; to Walsingham, Feb. 7, 11, and 20, and March 7; Examination of Miles Brewett, April 26, 1587; James Wyse, Mayor of Waterford, to Perrott, July 30; Perrott to Walsingham, Aug. 9; news by Tyrrell and Woode, Aug. 21; Gaspar Thunder’s report, Oct. 5; Instructions for Sir W. Fitzwilliam, Dec.; Perrott to Walsingham, May 12, 1588.

[157] Sidney’s Brief Relation, 1583; Sidney to the Privy Council, Jan. 27, 1577, in Carew; petition of N. Nugent and others, July 1563, in Carew; Answer of B. Scurlock and others, Jan. 11, 1577, in Carew; Fenton to Burghley, Aug. 22 and Sept. 4, 1586; Perrott to Burghley, June 10, 1585; Note of acts, 1586, in Carew, ii. 425. The composition is in Morrin’s Patent Rolls (note to 39 Eliz.)

[158] Acquittal of Sir R. Bingham, Feb. 20, 1587; his discourse, July; Bingham to Burghley, Oct. 3, 1587, and Feb. 13, 1588.

[159] Perrott to Walsingham, March 7, 18, and 21, and April 1, 1588, and Perrott’s Life; Fitzwilliam’s patent is dated Feb. 17, but he was not sworn till June 30.

[160] Perrott to Carew, March 27, 1587, in Carew; Sir N. Bagenal to Burghley, March 26; H. Sheffield to Burghley, March 29; Andrew Trollope to Burghley, Oct. 27 (for Lee’s case); Perrott’s declaration, June 29, 1588, and Fitzwilliam to Burghley, July 31.

[161] Wallop to Burghley, April 26, 1586; St. Leger to Burghley, May 30; Sir Roger Wilbraham, S.G., to the Munster Commissioners, Sept. 11, 1587; Arthur Robins to Walsingham, Sept. 17; Andrew Trollope to Burghley, Oct. 19; Sir W. Herbert to Burghley, April 30, 1587, and to Walsingham, July 12, 1588.

[162] Morrin’s Patent Rolls, May 10, 29 Eliz., and May 13; Tyrone’s answer, April 1587 (No. 58); Andrew Trollope to Burghley, Oct. 26, 1587; Tyrone to Perrott, Jan. 4, 1588; Perrott to Walsingham, May 12; Bingham to Burghley, May 15; Wallop to Walsingham, June 21.

[CHAPTER XLII.]

THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.

The Armada expected.

On the death of Jacques Wingfield, Perrott had granted the Mastership of the Ordnance to his son, Sir Thomas. It appeared, however, that there had been a grant in reversion passed to Sir William Stanley, which was voidable, but not void, by that officer’s treason. On the place becoming legally vacant it was conferred upon Sir George Carew, the late Master’s nephew. He reported that almost everything in the Dublin store was rusty and rotten, and that the small remainder would soon be as bad, since no allowance was made for maintaining it in a serviceable state. The gunners and armourers were no better than the stores; while Cork, Limerick, and other places were as ill-provided as the capital. Yet the Spaniards were daily expected, and the whole population, exhausted by their late sufferings, stood at gaze, waiting in fear and trembling for the great event.[163]

The Spanish ships appear.

Admiral Recalde.

On the 2nd of August Drake made up his mind that the enemy could not land in any part of Great Britain, and left the Armada to contend with the elements only. The rumours of English defeat which reached Spain were industriously propagated in Ireland also, but on the 26th the discomfiture of the invaders was known as far west as Athlone, though no letter had yet arrived. In the first days of September the flying ships began to tell their own story. From the Giant’s Causeway to the outermost point of Kerry the wild Atlantic seaboard presented its inhospitable face, and the Spaniards who landed met with a reception to match. At first they were the objects of great anxiety, and if the fleet had kept together, the crews, sick and hungry as they were, might have made some dangerous combination with the natives. But the Duke of Medina Sidonia, with fifty-two ships, managed to weather the Irish coast. This was owing to the advice of Calderon, who was the only officer with him that knew our shores, and who had a proper horror of the terrible west coast of Ireland. Admiral Recalde, a distinguished sailor, but with less local knowledge, parted company with the Duke off the Shetlands. When the storm moderated he had twenty-seven sail with him, but by the time he reached Kerry these were reduced to three. There were twenty-five pipes of wine on board, but no water except what had come from Spain, ‘which stinketh marvellously.’ There was very little bread, and the thirsty wretches could not eat their salt beef. Recalde anchored between the Blaskets and the main land, and sent for water. But Smerwick was close by, and no Kerry Catholic cared to run the risk of comforting the Queen’s enemies. Recalde’s ship, ‘The Don John of Oporto,’ was one of the largest in the whole Armada, containing 500 men, but of these 100 were ill; some died daily, and the strongest were scarcely able to stand. The masts were injured by the English shot and would not bear a press of canvas, yet there was nothing for it but to trust once more to those crazy spars. When Slea Head was passed, the immediate danger was over, and Recalde ultimately reached Corunna, but only to die of exhaustion four days after. He seems to have had some presentiment of disaster. When Medina Sidonia was appointed to command the expedition, his Duchess wished him to decline the perilous honour. If he succeeded, she philosophically remarked, he could be no more than Duke of Medina Sidonia; whereas he would lose his reputation if he failed. ‘Yes,’ said Recalde significantly, ‘if he returns.’[164]

Misery of the Spaniards.

Wreck off Kerry.

Spaniards hanged at Tralee.

The noble landsman to whom Philip, with extraordinary folly, entrusted the greatest fleet which the world had yet seen, had probably no choice but to make his way homewards as best he might. Unable to cope with the English or to co-operate with Parma, a great seaman might perhaps have been equally unsuccessful in attaining the objects of the expedition. But a chief of even ordinary capacity might have managed to ship some fresh water on the Faroes or the Shetlands. Neither on those islands nor on the Norwegian coast could any serious resistance have been offered; but the chance was lost and the consequences of this neglect were frightful. Wine was but a poor substitute, and some of the victuals were as unwholesome as the foul water. Among other things lime had been mixed with the biscuit, and for this many bakers in Spain were afterwards hanged. The ships were so much damaged, and the men so weak, that it was often impossible to keep clear of the coast. One unfortunate vessel, named ‘Our Lady of the Rose,’ foundered in the Sound of Blasket, in sight of the open water which Recalde had reached. The Genoese pilot had probably no local knowledge, and steered her on to a sunken rock, where she went down with 500 men on board; but not before an officer had killed the poor Italian for supposed treason. The pilot’s son alone escaped, by swimming, to tell the tale. Among the doomed was the young prince of Ascoli, said to be a son of Philip’s, who had originally sailed with Medina Sidonia and had taken a boat at Calais, had failed to regain the admiral’s ship, and had sought refuge upon that which had now gone to the bottom. A small vessel, which seems to have had no boat, was driven into Tralee Bay. Three men swam ashore and offered to surrender, saying they had friends at Waterford who would ransom them; but the names of those friends they refused to disclose. Lady Denny hanged the whole crew, consisting of twenty-four Spaniards, on the ground that there was no way of keeping them safely. Norris afterwards regretted that this had been done, but he also at first dreaded a landing in force.[165]

Wrecks off Clare.

Seven ships were driven into the Shannon, and lay for a short time off Carrigaholt. The Spaniards burned one which was too leaky to go to sea again. Another was wrecked in Dunbeg Bay, on the other side of Loop Head, and between 200 and 300 men were drowned. Another was lost at Trumree, a few miles farther north, and the names of Spanish Point and Mal Bay are believed to commemorate the impression which these disasters left upon the native mind. 300 men who landed were slain by the sheriff, in obedience to Bingham’s orders. Another ship lay for a time at Liscannor, where there is little or no shelter, but the crew were unable to land; one of her two boats was washed ashore, and a large oil-jar found in her showed that water was the Spaniards’ great want. Other ships were seen off the Arran Islands, and one of 200 tons came within a mile of Galway. It is not recorded that any of these were lost; but neither does it appear that any were relieved. They drifted away in misery, the men dying daily, and the survivors having to work, though themselves in a condition very little better than that of the fabulous Ancient Mariner.[166]

Wreck in Clew Bay.

Spaniards slaughtered by the Irish.

The ocean waves which roll into Clew Bay are partly broken by the island of Clare, which belonged in the sixteenth century to the O’Malleys—a clan famous as sea-rovers and fishermen. The western half of the island consists of a heathery mountain, which is said to harbour grouse, though other grouse are so far away. The eastern half is cultivated; but as late as 1870 there were no roads in the island, no wheeled vehicles, and only a single saddle, reserved for the annual visit of the agent. A native leaning on his spade, and lamenting the badness of the potatoes, asked a stray visitor if there were any news of the world. Upon these lonely rocks a large ship, commanded by Don Pedro de Mendoza, foundered with 700 men. Less than 100 had landed two days before, and these were all slaughtered by Dowdary Roe O’Malley, for the sake of the gold which they had brought with them. Mendoza tried to escape with some fishing-boats, but he shared the fate of his men, much to Bingham’s regret. One poor Spaniard and an Irishman of Wexford were spared out of 800. At Ormonde’s village of Burrishoole farther up the bay a ship of 1,000 tons and fifty-four guns was driven ashore. Most of those on board were lost, but sixteen landed with gold chains and surrendered to the Earl’s tenant. It was reported in London that the Duke of Medina Sidonia was among them, and Ormonde sent over a special messenger with orders to seize all that was valuable, to let the Duke ride his own horse, and not to put him in irons, but to treat him as the greatest prince in Spain. But Ormonde was not fortunate enough to capture this rich prize, nor is it likely that any of the plunder was reserved for him.[167]

Wrecks in Connemara.

Spaniards executed.

In the western part of Galway two vessels were wrecked, one of them being the ‘White Falcon’ with Don Luis de Cordova and his company. The O’Flaherties were at first disposed to shelter and befriend the strangers, but Bingham made proclamation that anyone who harboured Spaniards for more than four hours would be reputed as traitors. Many were brought to Galway accordingly, where 300 were straightway executed by the Provost Marshal, who was then sent to exercise his office in O’Flaherty’s country and to do what he could towards saving ordnance and munitions; and other officers were sent into Mayo with similar instructions. Of the prisoners at Galway forty picked men were reserved for Bingham’s decision, of whom thirty were afterwards executed. Don Luis and nine others were spared, as likely to be worth ransom, or to be able to give useful information.[168]

Alonso de Leyva.

The most famous Spaniard in the Armada was Alonso de Leyva, who was in command of the troops, and who would have acted as general had the invaders effected a landing in force. Even at sea he was the second in command, and had a commission to take supreme direction in case anything should happen to the Duke of Medina Sidonia. De Leyva had been suspected of intriguing for the command during the life of Santa Cruz, and even of thwarting that great seaman’s preparations. He had served under Don John in Flanders, where he raised a famous battalion consisting entirely of half-pay officers, and afterwards in Sicily and Italy; and had resigned command of the cavalry at Milan on purpose to take part in the expedition against England. When the Armada actually sailed he had charge of the vanguard, and had pressed the Duke hard to attack the English in Plymouth Sound, where their superior seamanship would avail them little. The guns of the fort, he said, would be silent, for their fire would do as much harm to one side as to the other. This bold advice was probably wise, but Medina Sidonia was not the man to take it. At a later period De Leyva is said to have directly accused the Duke of cowardice, and to have been threatened by him with the penalty of death—his only answer to every criticism.

His ship and followers.

He himself sailed on board the ‘Rata,’ a ship of 820 tons, 35 guns, and 419 men, of whom only 84 were seamen. Among the landsmen were many noble adventurers, who were desirous of seeing war under so famous a captain. When the fleet parted company the ‘Rata’ remained with Recalde, and went as far as 62° north latitude; the object being to reach Ireland and to refit there. The increasing cold frustrated this plan, and the half-sinking ships staggered southward again in the direction of Spain.[169]

Alonso de Leyva wrecked in Mayo,

and again in Donegal.

The ‘Rata’ was driven, much disabled, into Blacksod Bay, and anchored off Ballycroy. The sailing-master was Giovanni Avancini, an Italian, who, with fourteen of his countrymen, being ill-treated by the Spaniards, stole the ship’s only boat and wandered off into the country, where they were robbed and imprisoned by the ‘Devil’s Hook’s son’ and others of the Burkes. De Leyva then sent men ashore on casks, who recovered the boat, and the whole ship’s company were brought safe to land. They then entrenched themselves strongly in an old castle near the sea. Two days later, the ‘Rata’ was driven on to the beach. A boat full of treasure, besides such unaccustomed wares as velvet and cloth of gold, fell into the hands of the natives, and the ill-fated ship was fired where she lay. Meanwhile the transport ‘Duquesa Santa Ana,’ of 900 tons, drifted to the same remote haven. She had 300 or 400 men on board, who had been specially levied in honour of the Duchess of Medina Sidonia, but room was somehow made for all De Leyva’s people, and the transport set sail for Spain. The overladen craft had no chance against a head wind, and was driven into Loughros Bay, in Donegal. The shelter was bad, the cables parted, and the ‘Santa Ana’ went on the rocks; but here, again, no lives were lost. The shipwrecked men encamped for several days, and heard that the ‘Gerona,’ one of the four great Neapolitan galleasses which the luckless Hugo de Moncada had commanded, was lying in Killybegs Harbour. De Leyva had been hurt in the leg by the capstan during the confusion on board the ‘Santa Ana,’ and could neither walk nor ride. He was carried nineteen miles across the mountains between four men, and encamped at Killybegs for a fortnight, while the galeass was undergoing repairs. He despaired of reaching Spain in such a crazy bark, and determined, if possible, to land in Scotland. The Spaniards were, in the meantime, dependent on MacSwiney Banagh for food, and that chief was afraid of bringing famine on his country. At first, the unbidden guests had beef and mutton, but afterwards they were obliged to buy horseflesh.[170]

Alonso de Leyva sails a third time,

Some of the Irish pressed De Leyva to stay and to be their general against the English heretics, but he pleaded that he had no commission to do any such thing. He does, however, seem to have had some idea of wintering in Ulster, which he abandoned either on account of the difficulty of getting provisions, or because he saw no chance of defeating Fitzwilliam, whose arrival in Ulster was constantly expected. And he may have thought that the MacSwineys were not altogether to be trusted. The ‘Gerona’ had been made seaworthy with MacSwiney’s help, and by using the materials of another wreck, but she would not hold anything like the whole of his people. The bulk of them were willing to take their chance of a passage to Scotland, and, in the meanwhile, to make friends with the natives, and to join their fortunes to those of their shipwrecked countrymen. The galeass originally carried 300 galley-slaves, who could not be dispensed with, and less than that number of soldiers and sailors combined. It may be therefore assumed that she put off from Killybegs with not far short of 600 men on board. Her pilots were three Irishmen and a Scot.

but is finally lost off Antrim.

The noble volunteers all shared the fortunes of their chief. The ‘Gerona’ was a floating castle rather than a ship, built for the Mediterranean, and for fine weather, and utterly unsuited for the work required. Nevertheless she weathered Malin Head, and may even have sighted the Scotch coast. The wind came ahead, or the leaks gained upon the pumps—no one will ever know exactly what happened. For some time the fate of Don Alonso was doubtful; but about the beginning of December it became certainly known that the galeass had gone to pieces on the rock of Bunboys, close to Dunluce. But five persons, of no consequence, escaped, nor were any of the bodies identified. Hidalgos and galley-slaves shared the same watery grave.[171]

Importance of De Leyva.

Alonso de Leyva is described as ‘long-bearded, tall, and slender, of a whitely complexion, of a flaxen and smooth hair, of behaviour mild and temperate, of speech good and deliberate, greatly reverenced not only of his own men, but generally of all the whole company;’ and Philip said that he mourned his loss more than that of the Armada. It was well for England that the sovereign who rated Don Alonso so highly had not given him the supreme command, for the ‘brag countenance,’ which stood Lord Howard in such good stead would not then have been allowed to pass unchallenged. The loss of the ‘Gerona’ brought mourning into many of the noblest houses in Spain and Italy. ‘The gentlemen were so many,’ says a Spanish castaway, who visited the fatal spot, ‘that a list of their names would fill a quire of paper.’ Among them were the Count of Paredes, and his brother Don Francisco Manrique, and Don Thomas de Granvela, the Cardinal’s nephew.[172]

Wrecks in Sligo.

Great loss of life.

Three large ships were wrecked on the seaboard immediately to the north of Sligo Bay. A survivor recorded their failure to double the ‘Cabo di Clara,’ owing to a head wind. Erris Head was probably the actual promontory, and the Spaniards must have thought it was Cape Clear. Their ignorance of the coast is evident, and it seems certain that they mistook the north-west corner of Connaught for the south-west corner of Munster. Cape Clear was well known by name, and they would have been in no danger after doubling it. As it was, the west coast was a trap into which they drifted helplessly. Even of those who succeeded in rounding the Mullet we have seen that few escaped. Of the three who were lost near Sligo, one was the ‘San Juan de Sicilia,’ carrying Don Diego Enriquez, son of the Viceroy of New Spain and an officer of high rank. They anchored half a league from shore. For four days the weather was thick, and on the fifth a stiff nor’-wester drove them all aground. The best anchors lay off Calais, and there was no chance of working her off shore, for sails and rigging were injured by the English shot. The beach was of fine sand, but there were rocks outside, and in one hour the three ships, badly fastened in the best of times, and kept afloat only by frequent caulking, had completely broken up. Don Diego, foreseeing this, got into a decked boat with the Count of Villafranca’s son, two Portuguese gentlemen, and more than 16,000 ducats in money and jewels, and ordered the hatches to be battened down. With a proper crew she might have reached land safely, but more than seventy despairing wretches flung themselves into her, and the first great wave swept them all into the sea. The imprisoned hidalgos had no control over the boat, which was driven on to the beach bottom upwards. More than thirty-six hours later the natives came to rifle her, and dragged out the bodies. Three were dead, and Don Diego expired immediately after his release. According to the Spanish account more than 1,000 were drowned altogether, and less than 300 escaped, and this agrees pretty well with what we learn from English sources. ‘At my late being at Sligo,’ says Fenton, ‘I numbered in one strand of less than five miles in length above 1,100 dead corpses of men which the sea had driven upon the shore, and, as the country people told me, the like was in other places, though not of like number.’[173]

The survivors are stripped and robbed by the Irish,

who rejoice over their prey.

But some are more humane.

The smallest of the three ships was that which carried Don Martin de Aranda, who acted as judge-advocate-general or provost-marshal to the Armada, and who had been ordered by the Duke of Medina Sidonia to hang Don Cristobal de Avila and Captain Francisco de Cuellar for leaving their places in the line. The first was actually hanged, and carried round the fleet at the yard-arm of a despatch boat to encourage the rest. Cuellar was spared at the provost-marshal’s earnest request, and with him he remained until the loss of the ship. He stood on the poop to the last, whence he saw hundreds perish and a few reach the shore astride on barrels and beams, to be murdered in many cases, and stripped in all, by ‘200 savages and other enemies,’ who skipped and danced with joy at the disaster which brought them plunder. Don Martin de Aranda came to Cuellar in tears, both sewed coin into their clothes and after some struggles found themselves together upon the floating cover of a hatchway. Covered with blood and injured in both legs, Cuellar was washed ashore, but Don Martin was drowned. ‘May God pardon him,’ says the survivor, and perhaps he needed pardon, for it was he who had signed the order to kill all the French prisoners after the fight at Terceiras. Unobserved by the wreckers, Cuellar crawled away, stumbling over many stark naked Spanish corpses. Shivering with cold and in great pain he lay down in some rushes, where he was joined by ‘a cavalier, a very gentle boy,’ who was afterwards discovered to be a person of consequence, stripped to the skin, and in such terror that he could not even say who he was. He himself was a mere sponge full of blood and water, half-dead with pain and hunger; and in this state he had to pass the night. Two armed natives who chanced to pass took pity on them, covered them with rushes and grass which they cut for the purpose, and then went off to take their part in the wrecking. Green as the covering was, it probably saved Cuellar’s life, but at daybreak he found, to his great sorrow, that the poor, gentle lad was dead.[174]

Adventures of Francisco de Cuellar.

A devout damsel.

Slowly and painfully Cuellar made his way to what he calls a monastery, probably the round tower and church of Drumcliff, which is about five miles from the scene of the shipwreck. He found no living friends in this ancient foundation of St. Columba, but only the bodies of twelve Spaniards, hanged ‘by the Lutheran English’ to the window gratings inside the church. An old woman, who was driving her cows away for fear of the soldiers, advised him to go back to the sea, where he was joined by two naked Spaniards. Miserable as they were, they picked out the corpse of Don Diego from among more than 400, and buried him in a hole dug in the sand, ‘with another much-honoured captain, a great friend of mine.’ Two hundred savages came to see what they were doing, and they explained by signs that they were saving their brethren from the wolves and crows, which had already begun their ghastly work. As they were looking for any chance biscuits which the sea might have cast up four natives proposed to strip Cuellar, who alone had some clothes, but another of higher rank protected him. While on his way to this friendly partisan’s village, he met two armed young men, an Englishman and a Frenchman, and a ‘most extremely beautiful’ girl of twenty, who prevented the Englishman from killing, but not from stripping, the wretched Spaniard. A gold chain worth 1,000 reals was found round his neck, and forty-five ducats sewn up in his doublet, being two months’ pay received before leaving Corunna. He protested that he was only a poor soldier, but it was nevertheless proposed to detain him as worth ransom. Cuellar records, with some complacency, that the girl pitied him much, and begged them to return his clothes and to do him no more harm. His doublet was restored, but not his shirt, nor a relic of great repute which he had brought from Lisbon, and which ‘the savage damsel hung round her neck, saying, by signs, that she meant to keep it, and that she was a Christian, being as much like one as Mahomet was.’ A boy was ordered to take him to a hut, to put a plaster of herbs on his wound, and to give him milk, butter, and oatmeal cake.[175]

A visit to O’Rourke.

Cuellar is enslaved by a smith;

but escapes to MacClancy.

Cuellar was directed towards the territory of O’Rourke, narrowly escaped a band of English soldiers, was beaten and stripped naked by forty ‘Lutheran savages’ not easily identified, mistook two naked Spaniards for devils in the dark, joined them, and at last, after enduring almost incredible hardships, reached the friendly chief’s house, partly wrapped in straw and fern. O’Rourke had many houses. This one may have been Dromahaire, near to the eastern extremity of Lough Gill. It was a castle, and Cuellar calls it a hut, the probability being that thatched outhouses were generally occupied, and that the stone keep was little used except for defence. Everyone pitied the stranger, and one man gave him a ragged old blanket full of lice. Twenty other Spaniards came to the same place, reporting a large ship not far off. Cuellar was unable to keep up with them, and thus failed to embark on a vessel which was soon afterwards wrecked. All that escaped the sea were killed by the soldiers. Cuellar then fell in with a priest, who was dressed in secular habit for fear of the English, and who spoke in Latin. Following his directions the Spaniard sought the castle of MacClancy, a chief under O’Rourke who held the country south and west of Lough Melvin, and who was a great enemy of Queen Elizabeth. A savage whom he met enticed him to his cabin in a lonely glen. The man turned out to be a smith, who set his prisoner to blow the bellows. This lasted for eight days, and as the old man of the sea refused to let Sindbad go, so did this old man of the mountains declare that Cuellar should stay all his life with him. The Spaniard worked steadily for fear of being thrown into the fire by this ‘wicked, savage smith and his accursed hag of a wife.’ The friendly priest then appeared, and owing to his exertions, four natives and one Spaniard were sent by MacClancy to release Cuellar. He found ten of his shipwrecked countrymen with MacClancy, and everyone pitied him, especially the women, for he had no covering but straw. ‘They fitted me out,’ he says, ‘as well as they could with one of their country mantles, and during my stay of three months I became as great a savage as they were.’ Cuellar seems to have been susceptible to female influences, for he remarks that his host’s wife was extremely beautiful and very kind to him, and he spent a good deal of time in telling her fortune and those of her fair relatives and friends. This was amusing at first, but when men and less interesting women began to consult him he was forced to apply to his host for protection. MacClancy would not let him go, but gave general orders that no one should annoy him.[176]

A wild Irish household.

An account of an Irish household by a foreigner who had lived among the people for months, and whose sight was not coloured by English prejudice, is so rare a thing that Cuellar’s may well be given in full.

The men.

The women.

The Irish rob the Spaniards, but save their lives.

‘The habit of those savages is to live like brutes in the mountains, which are very rugged in the part of Ireland where we were lost. They dwell in thatched cabins. The men are well-made, with good features, and as active as deer. They eat but one meal, and that late at night, oat-cake and butter being their usual food. They drink sour milk because they have nothing else, for they use no water, though they have the best in the world. At feasts it is their custom to eat half-cooked meat without bread or salt. Their dress matches themselves—tight breeches, and short loose jackets of very coarse texture; over all they wear blankets, and their hair comes over their eyes. They are great walkers and stand much work, and by continually fighting they keep the Queen’s English soldiers out of their country, which is nothing but bogs for forty miles either way. Their great delight is robbing one another, so that no day passes without fighting, for whenever the people of one hamlet know that those of another possess cattle or other goods, they immediately make a night attack and kill each other. When the English garrisons find out who has lifted the most cattle, they come down on them, and they have but to retire to the mountains with their wives and herds, having no houses or furniture to lose. They sleep on the ground upon rushes full of water and ice. Most of the women are very pretty, but badly got up, for they wear only a shift and a mantle, and a great linen cloth on the head, rolled over the brow. They are great workers and housewives in their way. These people call themselves Christians, and say Mass. They follow the rule of the Roman Church, but most of their churches, monasteries, and hermitages are dismantled by the English soldiers, and by their local partisans, who are as bad as themselves. In short there is no order nor justice in the country, and everyone does that which is right in his own eyes. The savages are well affected to us Spaniards, because they realise that we are attacking the heretics and are their great enemies. If it was not for those natives who kept us as if belonging to themselves, not one of our people would have escaped. We owe them a good turn for that, though they were the first to rob and strip us when we were cast on shore. From whom and from the three ships which contained so many men of importance, those savages reaped a rich harvest of money and jewels.’[177]

Wanderings of Cuellar.

A narrow escape.

A friendly bishop.

Cuellar helped MacClancy to defend his castle against the Lord Deputy, and the chief was as unwilling to let him go as the smith had been. He escaped with four other Spaniards, during the first days of the new year, and after three weeks’ hardship in the mountains found himself at Dunluce in Antrim, where Alonso de Leyva had been lost. He was told that his only chance of a passage to Scotland was by some boats belonging to O’Cahan, which were expected to sail soon. The wound in his leg had broken out afresh, and he was unable to stand for some days. His companions left him to shift for himself, and after a painful walk to Coleraine he found that the boats had gone. There was a garrison there, and he had to take shelter in a mountain hut, where some women compassionately nursed him. In six weeks his wound was well enough to enable him to seek an interview with O’Cahan, but that chief, who was afraid to help any Spaniard, had gone upon a foray with the soldiers. ‘I was now,’ he says, ‘able to show myself in the town, which was of thatched houses, and there were some very pretty girls, with whom I struck up a great friendship and often visited their house to converse. One afternoon when I was there, two young Englishmen came in, and one of them, who was a sergeant, asked me if I was a Spaniard, and what I did there. I said yes, and that I was one of Don Alonso de Luzon’s soldiers who had surrendered, that my bad leg had prevented me from going with the rest, and that I was at their service to do their bidding. They said they hoped soon to take me with them to Dublin, where there were many Spaniards of note in prison. I replied that I could not walk, but was very willing to accompany them. They then sent for a horse, and their suspicions being set at rest, they began to romp with the girls. The mother made me signs to leave, which I did very quickly, jumping over ditches and going through thick covert till I came within view of O’Cahan’s castle. At nightfall I followed a road which led me to a great lagoon.’ This was probably Lough Foyle, and here he was befriended by herdsmen, one of whom, after a visit to Coleraine, told him that he had seen the two Englishmen ‘raging in search’ of him. He kept his counsel, but advised Cuellar to remove into the mountains. He was conducted to the hiding-place of a bishop, ‘a very good Christian,’ who prudently dressed like the country folk. ‘I assure you,’ writes the devout Spaniard, ‘that I could not restrain my tears when I came to kiss his hand.’ It seems almost certain that this was Redmond O’Gallagher, papal bishop of Derry and acting Primate, one of the three Irish prelates who had attended the Council of Trent. He had twelve other Spaniards with him, and by his help Cuellar managed to reach Scotland. ‘He was a reverend and just man,’ says the latter; ‘may God’s hand keep him free from his enemies.’

Final escape of Cuellar.

Four shiploads of castaways from the Armada were ultimately despatched from Scotland, and were not molested by the English, to whom they were no longer dangerous; but Cuellar was wrecked once more near Dunkirk, and saw 270 of his companions butchered by the Dutch. At last, in October 1589, fourteen months after his narrow escape from swinging at the Duke of Medina Sidonia’s yard-arm, did this much-enduring man reach Antwerp, which was then in the hands of Alexander Farnese, and from thence he wrote the account which has been so largely used.[178]

More than twenty ships lost in Ireland

It is not possible to trace the history of every ship lost on the Irish coast. Bingham, in a letter written when all was over, says twelve ships were wrecked in his province, which included Clare, and that probably two or three more foundered about various islands. He particularly excluded those lost in Ulster and Munster. In a paper signed by Secretary Fenton the total number of vessels lost is given as eighteen, but full accounts had not yet come in, and that number certainly falls short of the truth. Cuellar says that more than twenty were lost in the kingdom of Ireland, with all the chivalry and flower of the Armada.[179]

Great loss of life.

Donegal.

Connaught.

Munster.

According to Fenton’s account 6,194 men belonging to the eighteen ships whose loss he records, were ‘drowned, killed, and taken.’ This does not include those who escaped, nor the men belonging to ships not comprised in his list. At the end of October the number of Spaniards alive in Donegal alone was not far short of 3,000. About 500 escaped from Ulster to Scotland—‘miserable, ragged creatures, utterly spoiled by the Irishry’—and some of their descendants remain there to this day, and preserve the tradition of their origin. Very few of them reached Spain, and on the whole, we may believe that the number of subjects lost to Philip II. out of that part of the fleet which was lost in Ireland, cannot have been much short of 10,000. ‘In my province,’ says Bingham, ‘there hath perished at the least 6,000 or 7,000 men, of which there hath been put to the sword by my brother George, and executed one way and another, about 700 or 800, or upwards. Bingham spared some Dutchmen and boys, as probably engaged against their wills, but these were executed by the Lord Deputy himself when he visited Athlone. Twenty-four survivors from a wreck were executed at Tralee, but this was done in a panic, and was quite unnecessary. Munster was indeed too thoroughly subdued to make the presence of a few Spaniards dangerous. In Ulster the arm of the Government scarcely reached the castaways until they were no longer of much importance. Even the native Irish did not always spare those who had come to deliver them. The MacSwineys killed forty at one place in Donegal. Plunder was no doubt the object, as it had been in Tyrawley and in Clare island, but a desire to curry favour with the Government had also a good deal to say to it. It was only in those parts of Ulster and Connaught where the power of the chiefs was still unbroken, that the Spaniards received any kind of effectual help.[180]

Tyrone and O’Donnell.

The Spaniards powerless.

Tyrone did what he could for the Spaniards by sending them provisions, and he bitterly reproved O’Donnell, who with his eldest son had helped the Government against them. Other O’Donnells joined the strangers, and the chief does not seem to have carried his country with him. His MacDonnell wife made no secret of her intention to employ the foreigners for her own purposes. Tyrone himself was careful not to commit any overt act, and indeed professed the utmost loyalty, but he took the opportunity to renew his complaints against Tirlogh Luineach. Two brothers named Ovington or Hovenden, who were partly in his service and partly in the Queen’s, skirmished with the Spaniards wrecked in Innishowen and brought most of them prisoners to Dungannon; but many of their soldiers ran away, and their own good faith was much suspected. The MacSwineys all helped the Spaniards more or less, and O’Dogherty complained that they transferred them to his country as soon as their own had been eaten up. With men and boats he had saved many hundreds from a wreck, but this was little more than common humanity demanded. There were at one time about 3,000 Spaniards alive in Ulster. O’Rourke had given them arms; MacClancy interrupted the communications; Ballymote, where George Bingham had a house, was burned by the O’Connors, O’Dowds, and O’Harts, who said they were making way for King Philip, and it was thought that Sligo must inevitably fall into their hands. Bingham’s vigour disconcerted the plans of the confederates, and a good many of the Spaniards made their way to Scotland. A few continued to lurk in different parts of Ireland, down to 1592 at least, but it is hardly possible to believe, what is so often stated, that they were in numbers sufficient to leave traces upon the features and complexions of the natives. Spanish blood there may be in Ireland, but it is surely more reasonable to attribute it to the commerce which existed for centuries between a land of fish and a land of wine.[181]

Wreck in Lough Foyle.

Officers ransomed.

The ship wrecked in O’Dogherty’s country was the ‘Trinidad Valencera’ of Venice. She had on board about 600 men—Spaniards, Greeks, and Italians; and of these 400, including more than 100 sick, were brought to shore, some of them with arms, but ‘without even one biscuit.’ ‘The natives, who are savages,’ had retired into the mountains, but they found some horses at grass, which they killed and ate. They were attacked by Tyrone’s foster-brethren, Richard and Henry Hovenden, who made much of the glorious victory of 140 over 600. The Spaniards said that they had surrendered on promise of their lives and of decent treatment; but that their captors nevertheless stripped them naked and killed a great many, not more than eighty being reserved as prisoners. Among these was one who seemed to carry ‘some kind of majesty.’ This was probably Don Alonso de Luzon, chief of the tercio or brigade of Naples, who was distinguished by a pointed beard and a large moustache. De Luzon with several other officers was brought to Drogheda, where they were told that those who had plundered them were not Englishmen but sons of the soil. Don Diego de Luzon and two others died after their arrival, and several had perished on the road. Don Alonso and Rodrigo de Lasso, who were both knights of Santiago, were sent to London for ransom, as well as Don Luis de Cordova and his nephew, the only prisoners whom Fitzwilliam allowed to live of those which Bingham had saved. More than fifty others were afterwards sent over, and something like 800l. appears to have been paid by way of ransom for them all.[182]

The Irish got the plunder.

Small gain to the Queen.

Relics and traditions.

The amount of plunder secured did not at all satisfy expectation. Much treasure fell into the hands of the Irish, who regarded the wreckage as a godsend. The small arms and the lighter pieces of artillery were appropriated in the same way. The larger cannon were not so easily moved, and a few were recovered by Carew and others. One wedge of gold found its way to the Queen, and there were rumours of various costly articles which had been seized by officers or adventurers. The guns rescued for her Majesty hardly exceeded a dozen, and a few others were sent into Scotland by the MacDonnells, who also got hold of a good many doubloons. The relics which have been handed down to us are very few, but the memory of the invincible Armada is preserved by the names which have clung to some points of the Irish coast.[183]

The Armada a crusade.

Irish priests on board.

Other Irishmen.

By a strange reading of history it has lately been attempted to divest the Armada of its religious character. It is very true that some of Queen Elizabeth’s subjects were conspicuous by their loyalty, though they adhered to the communion of Rome: they were Englishmen first and Catholics afterwards. But it was against heresy and against the queen of heresy that Philip shot his bolt. One Spanish poem in honour of the Armada begins with an invocation of the Virgin ‘conceived without sin,’ and ends with some lines about turning the Lutherans into good Christians. Another poet laments that the wise, powerful, and warlike island of Britain had been changed from a temple of faith into a temple of heresy. The land which produced the Arthurs, the Edwards, and the Henrys, was now, he says, condemned to eternal infamy for submitting to a spindle instead of the sceptre and sword; and he apostrophises Elizabeth as anything but a virgin queen, but rather as the wolfish offspring of an unchaste mother. Lope de Vega, who served in the Armada, contents himself with calling Philip the Christian Ulysses, and the Queen of England a false siren; and he avers that faith only despatched the vast fleet from the Spanish shore. 180 Spanish and Portuguese friars sailed in the Armada, Franciscans, Dominicans, Carmelites, Augustinians, and Theatins being all represented; and there were certainly some Irish ecclesiastics. ‘Tomas Vitres’ is probably Thomas White of Clonmel, who became a Jesuit in 1593. There was also a friar named James ne Dowrough, who originally went to Spain with James Fitzmaurice, and who was cast upon the coast of Donegal, where the people paid him much respect. Some few Irish laymen there were also on board, of whom the most important was a son of James Fitzmaurice, who died at sea and who was buried with a great ceremonial in Clew Bay. One or two other Desmond Geraldines are also mentioned. There were a few who belonged to good families of the Pale, the most important being Baltinglas’s brother, Edmund Eustace. Eustace was reported dead, but he got back to Spain. Cahil O’Connor, who killed Captain Mackworth, was another, and he also was afterwards alive in Spain. James Machary, a native of Tipperary, said he was impressed at Lisbon. On the whole it is clear that there was no thought at all of a descent on Ireland, though some Spaniards taken in Tralee Bay said that on board the Duke of Medina’s ship was an Englishman called Don William, a man of a reasonable stature, bald, and very like Sir William Stanley. But Stanley had not left the Netherlands, and there were other Englishmen in the Spanish fleet.[184]

Rumours from Spain.

A tradition.

As late as February, 1589, Irish merchants spread flattering reports in Spain. Alonso de Leyva was alive, they said, and held Athlone against the Lord Deputy with 2,000 men; but an Irish bishop at Corunna said there were no Spaniards in Ireland, and the tellers of both tales were arrested until the truth should be known. Norris had recommended that Irish auxiliaries should be used in retaliating on the coast of Spain, and when he visited Corunna with Drake they lamented that the advice had not been taken. ‘Had we had either horse on land, or some companies of Irish kerne to have pursued them, there had none of them escaped.’ There is a tradition in Munster, and the local historian fixes the date in 1589, that Drake was pursued by Spaniards into Cork harbour, that he took refuge among the woods in the secluded Carrigaline river, and that the foreigners sailed round the harbour and departed without being able to find him. It is not easy to say when this happened, but the place is called ‘Drake’s hole’ unto this day.[185]

The last of the Armada.

The Scotch Government did what it could to get rid of the Spaniards peaceably, but some were not shipped off until July 1589, and even then a remnant was left. They hung about the Orkneys, taking stray English vessels and even committing some murders on Scottish soil. In the correspondence to which they gave rise Bothwell’s name is frequently mentioned, and they continued to give trouble for some years. The few who lingered in Ireland could do but little harm, and the years which followed Philip’s great enterprise were unusually quiet.[186]

FOOTNOTES:

[163] Carew to Burghley, July 18 and Aug. 2, 1588; to Walsingham, July 18, Aug. 4 and Sept. 18; to Heneage, July 18 and Aug. 4, all in Carew.

[164] Examination of Emanuel Fremoso and Emanuel Francisco, Sept. 12, 1588; James Trant, sovereign of Dingle, to Sir Edward Denny, Sept. 11; Bingham to Burghley, Aug. 26; Ormonde to Mr. Comerford, Sept. 18. Recalde’s ship was burned by Drake at Corunna in April 1589; she had then sixty-eight pieces of brass cannon. See Duro’s Armada Invencible, ii. 446. ‘Cuando torne’ were Recalde’s words.

[165] Examination of Juan Antonio of Genoa, Sept. 15; Vice-President Norris to Walsingham, Sept. 8 and 9; William Herbert to Fitzwilliam, Feb. 1589; Peter Grant’s news under Feb. 28.

[166] Nicholas Kahane to the Mayor of Limerick, Sept. 12; George Woodloke to the Mayor of Waterford, Sept. 10; Boetius Clancy, sheriff of Clare, to Bingham, Sept. 6. Mr. James Frost, of Limerick, writes as follows:—‘One ship was driven upon the rocks at a place called Spanish Point (Rinn na Spainig) near Miltown Malbay.... The tradition is that the other ship was driven ashore at a place called Ballagh-a-line, not far from Lisdoonvarna. Boetius Clancy of Knockfime, a place one mile distant from the scene, was sheriff of Clare in that year. He ordered such of the crew as came alive on the shore to be hanged, and they were buried in one pit near the church of Killilagh. The place of execution has been long since called Knockacroghery (the hangman’s hill) and the tumulus of earth heaped over the dead Spaniards is called Tuaim na Spainig. In a few years afterwards, peace being restored between England and Spain, a request was made to the English Government for permission to exhume the body of the son of one of the first grandees of Spain, who had been on board the lost ship, in order to its removal home for burial. Consent was given, but the body having been placed with the rest in one grave, could not be found. Clancy was greatly blamed by all parties for his inhumanity.’

[167] Edwarde Whyte to Walsingham, Sept. 30; Ormonde to Comerford, Sept. 18.

[168] Edwarde Whyte to Walsingham, with discourse enclosed, Sept. 30; examination of Don Luis de Cordova, Oct. 1.

[169] Duro, i. 34, 44, 200, ii. 374, 440, ib. 66-70 for the names of the noble volunteers, among whom is ‘Manuel Paleologo,’ with two followers.—Froude, xii. 503.

[170] The most circumstantial account of De Leyva’s adventures, so far, is the deposition, taken on Dec. 29, of James Machary, a Tipperary man who was on board the ‘Santa Ana.’ Other particulars are in the ‘discourse’ sent by E. Whyte to Walsingham on Sept. 30. See also Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Oct. 27, with the enclosures; Duro, i. 171 Gerald Comerford to Bingham, Sept. 13.

[171] Bingham to the Queen, Dec. 3; Fitzwilliam, &c., to the Privy Council, Dec. 31; Duro, ii. 65; advertisement by Henry Duke, Oct. 26.

[172] Machary’s examination, Dec. 29, and that of George Venerey, a Cretan. Duro, ii. 66-70, 364. The gentleman-adventurers who sailed both on the ‘Rata’ and ‘Santa Ana’ were doubtless collected on board the ‘Gerona.’ Captain Merriman, writing to Fitzwilliam on Oct. 26, says 260 bodies were washed ashore, as well as certain wine, which was appropriated by Sorley Boy MacDonnell. A small cove close to the Giant’s Causeway is still called Port-na-Spania. There is a local tradition that the fallen pillars of basalt on the height were knocked down by the Spanish gunners, who mistook them for Dunluce Castle; but they were not thinking of bombarding castles just then.

[173] Cuellar’s narrative in Duro, ii. 342; Sir Geoffrey Fenton to Burghley, Oct. 28. The following is from Col. Wood Martin’s History of Sligo, 1882: ‘The largest of the galleons struck on a reef (from that circumstance called Carrig-na-Spania, or the Spaniard’s Rock) situated off the little island of Derninsh, parish of Ahamlish. On the map of the Sligo coast (A.D. 1609) is placed opposite to this island the following observation:—“Three Spanish ships here cast away in A.D. 1588.”’ The bodies lay on Streedagh strand, and cannon-balls and bones have been cast up there within the last few years.

[174] Duro, i. 123, ii. 343-347.

[175] Duro, ii. 347-350.

[176] Duro, ii. 350-358. The chief who sheltered Cuellar is called by him Manglana, and in the State Papers MacGlannagh or MacGlannahie. ‘The barony of Rossclogher in Leitrim,’ says O’Donovan, ‘was the territory of the family of Mag-Flannchadha, now anglicised MacClancy.’—Irish Topographical Poems, xxxvii. 268.

[177] Duro, ii. 358-360. Cuellar calls all the Irish—men and women, chiefs and kerne—by the same name, ‘salvajes.’

[178] The work quoted is La Armada Invencible, by Captain Cesareo Fernandez Duro of the Spanish navy, Madrid, 1885. For my first acquaintance with this book, which deserves translation, I am indebted to a charming article by Lord Ducie in the Nineteenth Century for September 1885. Neither Captain Duro nor Lord Ducie can explain the words ‘D. Reimundo Termi Obispo de Times,’ nor can I. The Irish word Termon may have something to do with it, but whatever ‘Termi’ and ‘Times’ may mean, ‘Reimundo’ is good enough Spanish for Redmond. A year later Bishop O’Gallagher is mentioned in a State paper as ‘Legate to the Pope and custos Armaghnen ... using all manner of spiritual jurisdiction throughout all Ulster ... these twenty-six years past and more.’ The Spanish captain’s prayer was heard till 1601, when the bishop was killed by the English not far from the place where Cuellar had kissed his hand. Brady’s Episcopal Succession, s.v. Four Masters, 1601. Note of Popish bishops, &c. by Miler Magrath, calendared at Dec. 17, 1590.

[179] From a careful comparison of accounts I venture to distribute the wrecks as follows:—

• 1. To the south of Slea Head (‘in Desmond’ Fenton says);
• 1. ‘Nuestra Señora della Rosa’ (945 tons, 26 guns, and 297 men), between Slea Head and the Blaskets;
• 1. Deserted and burned near Carrigaholt in Clare;
• 1. At Dunbeg in Clare;
• 1. At Trumree in Clare;
• 1. The ‘White Falcon’ (500 tons, 16 guns, 197 men), in Connemara;
• 2. In Clew Bay (of which one was the ‘Rata,’ 820 tons, 35 guns, 419 men);
• 1. In Tyrawley;
• 3. Near Sligo, the ‘San Juan de Sicilia,’ one of them (800 tons, 26 guns, 342 men);
• 2. At uncertain places in Connaught;
• 2. At Killybegs;
• 1. The transport ‘Duquesa Santa Ana’ (900 tons, 23 guns, 357 men), at Loughros Bay;
• 1. In Boylagh, Donegal;
• 1. The ‘Trinidad Valencera’ (1,100 tons, 42 guns, 360 men), on the Innishowen side of Lough Foyle;
• 1. The ‘Gerona’ galeass (50 guns, 290 men), between Dunluce and the Bann.

This makes twenty, and there were probably two or three more lost. The ‘Barca de Amburg’ (600 tons, 23 guns, 264 men) sank off the coast somewhere.

The numbers of men given in this note are from the Spanish official list (Duro, ii. 60), but we know that many were transferred from one vessel to another. See, besides the authorities already cited, Fenton’s note calendared at Sept. 19, 1588, and Bingham to the Queen, Dec. 3. Other ships mentioned in Spanish accounts as having been lost in Ireland are the galleon ‘San Juan Battista’ (750 tons, 24 guns, 243 men); the ‘Anunciada’ (703 tons, 24 guns, 275 men), and the transports, ‘Gran Grifon’ (650 tons, 38 guns, 286 men), and ‘Santiago’ (600 tons, 19 guns, 86 men).—Duro, ii. 328.

[180] Note by Fenton, Sept. 19; Bingham to Fitzwilliam, Sept. 21 and Oct. 10; to the Queen, Dec. 3; Norris to Walsingham, Sept. 8 and 9; advertisements from Henry Duke, Oct. 26; Fitzwilliam, Loftus, and Fenton to the Privy Council, Dec. 31.

[181] Lord Deputy and Council to the Privy Council, Oct. 12, with twenty enclosures; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Oct. 27, with six enclosures; Solomon Farenan to Fitzwilliam, Feb. 18, 1589; Bingham to Fitzwilliam, Jan. 3, 1592; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, May 9, 1592.

[182] Duro, ii. 450 sqq.; examination of Don Alonso de Luzon, &c., Oct. 13, 1588; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Dec. 31. Sir Horatio Pallavicino arranged with Walsingham for the ransoms; see his accounts, Dec. 1589, No. 85, and Oct. 31, 1591, also G. B. Guistiniano to Burghley, April 8, 1591. On March 14, 1594, Tyrone made it an article against Fitzwilliam that neither he nor the Hovendens had been rewarded for their service.

[183] Bingham to Fitzwilliam, Sept. 21, 1588; Sir W. Herbert to Walsingham, Dec. 27, 1588; Lord Deputy and Council to the Privy Council, Dec. 31 and Jan. 30, 1588-9; see also several letters in Carew from June 2 to Aug. 1, 1589. The most important relic that I know is a very handsome table preserved at Dromoland; it was washed ashore near Miltown Malbay, and tradition says that it was ‘in the admiral’s cabin;’ but Sidonia never went near the coast of Clare. Lord Inchiquin writes that a letter, supposed to be still extant, accompanied the table to Dromoland, but that he has been unable to find it. An iron chest washed ashore near the Giant’s Causeway is in Lord Antrim’s possession. The Macnamara family formerly possessed cups, a watch, crosses, &c., out of the Armada, brought from the Arran Islands, but these I have been unable to trace; guns have been recovered, but not many, and the rudder of a ship was cut into gateposts near Westport!

[184] For the poems see Duro, i. 237, and ii. 85; examination of Spaniards taken at Tralee, Sept. 9, 1588; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Oct. 27, with enclosures; examination of James Machary, Dec. 29, &c.

[185] Fitzwilliam to Burghley, March 14, 1589, with enclosures; Drake and Norris to the Privy Council, May 7, printed in Barrow’s Life of Drake Smith’s Cork, i. 216.

[186] Notices in the Calendar of S. P. Scotland, especially Oct. 28, 1588.

[CHAPTER XLIII.]

ADMINISTRATION OF FITZWILLIAM, 1588-1594.

Ulster after the Armada.

Case of Sir John O’Gallagher.

When the danger was over, it was not unnatural that Fitzwilliam should wish to chastise those who had favoured the invaders, or at least to reduce them to submission. His enemies said he only wanted to convert some of the Spanish treasure to his own use; but it is clear that he got none of it, either for himself or for the Queen. On two miles of strand in Sligo ‘there lay,’ he says, ‘more wrecked timber in my opinion (having small skill or judgment therein) than would have built five of the greatest ships that ever I saw, besides mighty great boats, cables, and other cordage answerable thereunto, and some such masts, for bigness and length, as in mine own judgment I never saw any two could make the like.’ But there were no doubloons. The castles of Ballyshannon and Belleek were in possession of Tyrone’s father-in-law, Sir John MacToole O’Gallagher, who had formerly enjoyed a good service pension of 100l., of which he had been deprived by Perrott. He was now in close alliance with Ineen Duive, the mother of Hugh Roe O’Donnell, and it was dangerous to oppose her, for she murdered at this time another O’Gallagher whose independent bearing annoyed her. Neither O’Rourke nor any of the smaller chiefs who had befriended the Spaniards came to Fitzwilliam, and the cattle were driven off into the mountains. O’Donnell did come, and so did Sir John O’Gallagher and Sir John O’Dogherty. Fitzwilliam’s enemies said O’Gallagher came under safe conduct, but the annalists do not allege this. The Deputy himself says he persuaded him to come by courteous entreaty, and that O’Dogherty came of his own accord. He treated them as sureties for Perrott’s tribute, of which ‘not one beef had been paid,’ and carried them both prisoners to Dublin; but the 2,100 cows remained in Donegal. Whether word was broken with these chiefs or not, Fitzwilliam’s policy was certainly bad. How were O’Rourke and MacSwiney punished by imprisoning O’Gallagher or O’Dogherty? There could be no result except to make Irishmen very shy of the Viceroy. O’Dogherty remained in Dublin Castle for a year or more, and the deputy Remembrancer of the Exchequer said he was only released then because certain hogsheads of salmon were sent to the Lord Chancellor’s cellar. O’Gallagher remained six years in prison, Fitzwilliam saying he was too dangerous to liberate, and his critics maintaining that he only wanted to be bribed. The wretched chief, who was old and infirm, was released by Sir William Russell, but died soon after.[187]

O’Donnell politics.

Fitzwilliam, who went from Donegal to Strabane, made Donnell O’Donnell sheriff. He was O’Donnell’s eldest son by an Irish wife or mistress, and it was supposed that he would do good service against the Scotch party, who thirsted for his blood. It was hoped that Tyrone would help to get the promised rent from Tyrconnell, but he contented himself with entertaining the army sumptuously at Dungannon, and he afterwards made the treatment of Sir John O’Gallagher one of his principal grievances. The redoubtable Ineen soon afterwards burned down her husband’s house at Donegal, lest it should serve to shelter a garrison, and at the same time her son Hugh, who was a prisoner at Dublin Castle, was betrothed to the Earl’s daughter. The Lord Deputy’s journey to the North had no results of importance, but he could boast of not losing one man in seven weeks.[188]

The Desmond forfeitures.

Opposition to the undertakers.

In order to clear up some of the claims made upon the forfeited Desmond estates, it was thought wise to send over no less a person than Chief Justice Anderson. His law could not be gainsaid, and he was not likely to err on the side of leniency. The English lawyers joined in commission with him were Sir Robert Gardiner, Chief Justice of Ireland, Thomas Gent, Baron of the Exchequer in England, and Jesse Smythe, Chief Justice of Munster; and upon these four fell the principal part of the work. Of eighty-two claims only one was allowed, a conveyance from Desmond being produced in that case, of a date prior to his first treasonable act. In the absence of such proof, the Queen was held to be seised in fee of all the Earl’s estate. The materials exist for a detailed account of the Munster settlement, but they are more properly available for histories of Cork, Kerry, Limerick, and Waterford than for that of Ireland. One of the suitors aggrieved by the decision of the commissioners was Lord Roche, and his case is especially interesting because of its connection with Spenser. He made seven distinct claims, and on the first being dismissed, because he had ‘sinisterly seduced’ the witnesses, he refused to proceed with the others, and threatened to complain to the Queen, whereupon the commissioners sent him to gaol. The imprisonment was short, but he declared that one of the undertakers had shot an arrow at him, professed to be in fear of his life, and begged Ormonde to lend him some house on the Suir, where he might be safe for a time. In the meantime he managed to make the country very unsafe for some other people.

Spenser.

Spenser had Kilcolman and 4,000 acres allotted to him, but he complained that the area was really much less. Less or more, he was not allowed to dwell in peace, and his chief enemy was Lord Roche, who accused him of intruding on his lands, and using violence to his tenants, servants, and cattle. The poet retorted that the peer entertained traitors, imprisoned subjects, brought the law into contempt, and forbade all his people to have any dealings with Mr. Spenser and his tenants. An English settler named Keate asked Morris MacShane, one of Lord Roche’s men, why he had no fear of God; and it was sworn that he answered, ‘he feared not God, for he had no cause; but he feared his Lord, who had punished him before and would have his goods.’ Lord Roche was charged with many outrages, such as killing a bullock belonging to a smith who mended a settler’s plough, seizing the cows of another for renting land from the owner of this plough, and killing a fat beast belonging to a third, ‘because Mr. Spenser lay in his house one night as he came from the sessions at Limerick.’ Ultimately the poet’s estate was surveyed as 3,028 acres at a rent of 8l. 13s. 9d., which was doubled at Michaelmas 1594, making it about five farthings per acre. Spenser maintained himself at Kilcolman until 1598, when the undertakers were involved in general ruin. Troubles with Lord Roche continued to the end, and it may be doubted whether even the happy marriage which inspired his finest verses ever reconciled him to what he has himself described as—

My luckless lot
That banished had myself, like wight forlore,
Into that waste, where I was quite forgot.

Raleigh.

Fatal defects of the settlement.

Raleigh, whose society was one of Spenser’s few pleasures in Munster, settled a very large number of English families upon his great estate in Cork and Waterford. Passing afterwards into Boyle’s skilful hands, this settlement became of the greatest importance, but it was overrun like the rest in 1598. Ten years before the crash came, Raleigh could see that Thomas of Desmond and his son James were dangerous neighbours. Sir Richard Grenville and Fane Beecher had the whole barony of Kinalmeaky between them, and at the end of 1589 there were only six Englishmen there, upon land estimated at 24,000 acres. The hero of Flores had a very poor opinion of the prospect unless questions which proved insoluble could be speedily settled, and the English settlers found their position everywhere very disagreeable. Grenville and St. Leger planted a considerable number in the district immediately south of Cork, and Arthur Hyde did pretty well on the Blackwater; but, as a rule, the newcomers were greatly outnumbered by the natives. Nor can it be doubted that many returned to England when they found that Munster was not Eldorado. Irish tenants were easily got to replace them, and even to pay rents to the undertakers until it was possible to cut their throats. When the day of trial came, the remaining settlers were easily disposed of; they cried, and there was none to help them.[189]

The Clancarty heiress;

secretly married to Florence MacCarthy.

Among other devices for balancing the Desmond power in Munster, Elizabeth had made Donnell MacCarthy More Earl of Clancare, and Shane O’Neill had spoken very sarcastically of this attempt to turn a foolish chief into a ‘wise earl.’ His only legitimate son ran away to France, where he died, and all hereditary rights were then vested in his daughter Ellen, who became an important figure in the eyes of English and Irish fortune-hunters. It appears that Clancare sold his daughter to Sir Valentine Browne as a wife for his son Nicholas, Sir Thomas Norris having first given up the idea of wooing her. Sir Valentine was a mortgagee, for the earl had wasted his substance in riotous living, and in the hands of a family of undertakers and land-surveyors every claim of that sort would have its full value. In the eyes of the MacCarthies and of the heiress’s mother, who was a Desmond, the proposed match was a disparagement, and early in 1589 a private marriage was celebrated between Lady Ellen and Florence MacCarthy, who had probably come from London on purpose. Sir Nicholas Browne afterwards married a daughter of O’Sullivan Bere. The heiress does not seem to have been much consulted, and a marriage which began so romantically was not in the end even moderately happy. In 1599 she distrusted her husband, who called her ‘foolish and froward,’ and not long afterwards she was practically a spy upon his actions.

Mac Carthy politics.

Florence and Donnell MacCarthy.

Florence was Tanist of Carbery, which had passed to his uncle, and the result of his runaway match would be to unite the territories of MacCarthy Reagh and MacCarthy More in one hand. Now that the Desmonds were gone, a MacCarthy on this scale would be the strongest man in Munster. To break up these great estates was a fixed object with the English Government, and Florence was sent as prisoner to England, where he remained for several years. His wife escaped from Cork, hid for a long time among her people, and then joined her husband in London. The clans generally acknowledged him as MacCarthy More, but there was another claimant in the person of Clancare’s illegitimate son Donnell, who had many friends among the people, and who was probably his father’s favourite. A peaceable inhabitant was murdered by this spirited young man, whom he had ventured to reprove for his Irish extortions, and who supported himself and his band of followers by promiscuous robbery. ‘It is thought,’ said St. Leger, ‘that this detestable murder was committed by the Earl’s consent, for that the party murdered would not relieve him with money, to bear out his drunken charges at Dublin.’ Florence, on the contrary, was a scholar, and a man who, notwithstanding his gigantic stature, used his pen more readily than his sword. His accomplishments, and the very hard treatment he received, have made him interesting, but there was nothing heroic about him. He was an astute Irishman, and while English writers could rightly accuse him of treasonable practices, his rival Donnell, called him ‘a damned counterfeit Englishman, whose only study and practice was to deceive and betray all the Irish in Ireland.’[190]

Fitzwilliam and the MacMahons.

In June 1589 Sir Ross MacMahon, chief of Monaghan, died without heirs male. He held of the Queen by letters patent, and was regarded as MacMahon, and also as feudal grantee of the whole country, except the districts comprised in the modern barony of Farney, which had been granted to Walter, Earl of Essex. He was liable to a rent of 400 beeves and to certain services. His brother Hugh Roe at once claimed his inheritance. Fitzwilliam’s great object was to break up these principal chiefries into moderate estates, and he thought this a good opportunity. Brian MacHugh Oge also claimed to be MacMahon, but upon purely Celtic grounds, and very much upon the strength of 500 or 600 armed men whom he found means to pay. Fitzwilliam persuaded Hugh Roe that he had not much chance of success, and brought him to agree to a division, but his kinsmen refused, since each gentleman of the name claimed to be the MacMahon himself. Fitzwilliam then acknowledged Hugh Roe as chief, and sent him 400 foot and 40 horse. Brian MacHugh was in possession of Leck Hill and of the stone upon which MacMahons were inaugurated, and was supported by Tyrone and by Hugh Maguire, who had just become chief of Fermanagh upon the death of his father Cuconnaught. On the approach of the Queen’s troops he fled into O’Rourke’s country, and left Hugh Roe in possession. Returning a few days later with help from O’Rourke or Maguire, he drove his rival from Clones, and killed a few soldiers, but without coming into collision with the main body. Hugh Roe did, however, maintain himself, but soon showed that he had no intention of abandoning native customs. He rescued prisoners from the sheriff of Monaghan, drove cattle in Farney, burned houses, and behaved himself generally like a spirited Irish chieftain. These offences legally involved a forfeiture of his patent, and Fitzwilliam found means to arrest him. Tyrone looked upon the cattle-stealing merely as ‘distraining for his right according to custom,’ but Fitzwilliam saw another chance of effecting the much desired partition. The Queen was inclined to think that MacMahon had committed nothing more than ‘such march offences as are ever ordinarily committed in that realm,’ that great caution should be used in punishing a man who undoubtedly depended on the Crown, and that Brian MacHugh in particular was not to be preferred. In the end Hugh Roe was tried and executed at Monaghan. In 1591 the country, with the exception of Farney, was divided between six MacMahons and MacKenna, the chief of Trough. The rent reserved to the Queen was 7s. 6d. for every sixty acres. An ample demesne was assigned to each, and those holding land under them, at a rent of 12s. 6d. for every sixty acres, were called freeholders. A seneschal was appointed to represent the Crown. Brian MacHugh was established in Dartrey, and Ever MacCoolie in Cremorne. The church-lands, and only the church-lands, were leased to private speculators, but the settlement was not destined to remain unquestioned.

Charge of corruption.

Fitzwilliam has been accused of acting corruptly in this matter; but such charges were matters of course, and his own strong denial ought to prevail, since there is no evidence against him. ‘I did it,’ he said, ‘to the profit of her Majesty and good of this State, nothing regarding mine own private; I speak it in the presence of God, by whom I hope to be saved... if ever there were such a motion or meaning for me, or for any of mine, let God wipe us all out of his book.’[191]

Bingham in Connaught.

Jones Bishop of Meath.

Bingham had treated the Spaniards very severely, as well as those who harboured them. The consequence of allowing them to draw together on Irish soil would have been serious, and in Walsingham’s eyes at least he had done no more than his duty. But the chiefs who already hated him now hated him worse than ever, and when the danger was over plenty of Englishmen were ready to censure his proceedings. Among them was Thomas Jones, Bishop of Meath, and afterwards Archbishop of Dublin, a Lancashire man, who had been admitted to the Council at the same time as Bingham, in accordance with the Queen’s instructions to Sir John Perrott, and who had afterwards been sharply rebuked by her for proposing severe measures against recusants, and for openly and without notice blaming that Deputy’s remissness in the matter. He now gave out that Ustian MacDonnell, a noted leader of gallowglasses, had been unadvisedly executed by the Governor of Connaught. Bingham replied that the court-martial was quite regular, and the sentence just. He had, he said, ‘never a foot of land in the world as his own, nor yet anything else, and had always been the worst man in all these parts of his time.’ The chief charge against him was that of combining with the Devil’s Hook’s son and other Burkes to receive Alonso de Leyva when he was driven upon the Erris shore, and for preventing the country people from supplying the troops, while they readily gave their cattle to the Spaniards. The Bishop of Meath, with John Garvey, Bishop of Kilmore, a Kilkenny man, who was immediately afterwards translated to Armagh, the veteran Sir Nicholas White, Sir Robert Dillon, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, and Sir Thomas Lestrange, were appointed commissioners for the pacification of Connaught. They may have let their hostility to Bingham be known, or—as was so often the case—their mere presence seemed to show that he was distrusted. The result was not satisfactory, for they found the Mayo Burkes in open rebellion, and they left them in no better case. White thought these people desired peace, and that it was prevented by a revengeful disposition in some of his colleagues to lay all the blame on Bingham.[192]

Murder of John Browne in Mayo.

John Browne, the founder of a great Connaught family, had been in the service of Sir Christopher Hatton, and was attached politically to Walsingham. He arrived in Ireland in 1583, and Sir Nicholas Maltby appears to have been his first patron there. His original project, in which he was associated with Robert Fowle and others, was to rebuild and people the deserted town of Athenry; but this proved impracticable, and at a hint from Walsingham, the adventurers took all Connaught for their province. Browne established himself at the Neale, near Ballinrobe, and prided himself on being the first Englishman who had settled in Mayo. When Bingham came into Maltby’s room, he recognised a congenial spirit, and in 1586 Browne was employed by him with much effect against the Burkes and Joyces. In 1589 he received a commission to harry the Burkes and all their maintainers with fire and sword, and a few days afterwards they killed him. Daniel Daly, sub-sheriff of Mayo, who was also employed by Bingham, was murdered at the same time.[193]

Bingham and the Mayo Burkes.

A rebellion.

The reason or pretext given for their rebellion by the chiefs of Western Connaught was that Bingham’s tyranny was intolerable. They declared that they had paid for protections which proved no protection, and for pardons which were not regarded, and that they never would be quiet until there was a radical change. It is always very hard to decide whether complaints such as these were really genuine and well-founded, or whether the mischief was mainly caused by the jealousy of chiefs who saw their authority disregarded, and their power of levying endless exactions curtailed. They spoke of liberty, but most Englishmen considered that they only wanted licence to oppress. Their power to give trouble was at least not doubtful. William Burke, called the Blind Abbot, was chief of the Lower Burkes, and aspired to be MacWilliam Iochtar. Another leader was Richard MacRickard, called the Devil’s Hook, or the Demon of the Reaping-hook. 400 of the Clandonnel gallowglasses joined the Burkes. Sir Morrogh ne Doe O’Flaherty dismantled his castles in Galway, ferried 600 men over Lough Corrib, and entered Mayo in company with his neighbours, the Joyces. The outbreak had been a long time hatching, and was violent in proportion. Sixteen villages were burned, and 3,000 cattle driven away. All who were not with the insurgents were held to be against them, and peaceable husbandmen had a bad time of it. One housewife was called upon to feed 100 men, and particularly observed that they gave her no thanks. In another poor dwelling six barrels of ale were drunk or spoiled, and the owner was threatened with personal violence. It was Lent, but a Spanish priest who was with O’Flaherty, gave them all absolution for eating flesh, and there was much feasting at other people’s expense. Sir Morrogh was fond of money, and a promise of 500l. was supposed to have reconciled him to the probable execution of his son, who was a hostage for his good behaviour. On the whole, the number of men in rebellion was thought not to fall short of 200, and they had some pieces of ordnance and stores taken from three ships of the Armada. There were about twenty Spaniards with them, who did not at all relish the conditions of Irish warfare.[194]

Royal Commission in Connaught.

Bishop Jones and his fellow-commissioners came to Athlone on April 11, about three months after the murder of Browne. The O’Flaherties had in the meantime been very thoroughly beaten by Lieutenant Francis Bingham and other officers, assisted by Gerald Comerford, the martial attorney-general for Connaught. They lost something like 200 men, while only one soldier fell. Bishop Garvey was sent first into Mayo, while Jones and his other colleagues went straight to Galway. Sir Murrogh refused to come into the town without a protection, and this the mayor refused to grant in opposition to Comerford, lest Bingham should take him nevertheless, and so destroy the credit of the corporation. Sir Richard was at little pains to hide his dislike of the whole inquiry. The Bishop of Meath laid down the principle—and with this at least it is impossible not to agree—that loyal men should keep their words, no matter how much rebels broke theirs. ‘What!’ said Bingham, ‘would you have us keep our words with those which have no conscience, but break their word daily? I am not of that opinion.’ Chief Justice Dillon’s reading of his commission was that he was to make peace; Sir Richard commanded the troops, and might fight if he pleased. Bingham said he would hold his hand until the commissioners had done their best, or worst, and he let them see that he had no belief in their doings. The Bishop of Kilmore succeeded in bringing the leaders of the Burkes to Galway; and the Blind Abbot, as soon as he came within sight, held out the commission which had been found on Browne’s person at the time of his murder, and declared he would send it to the Queen. The knowledge that this document existed, said another Burke, was the real cause of the crime.[195]

Bingham too strong for the commissioners,

who become ridiculous.

Bingham was at Galway during the visit of the commissioners, though he did not conceal his disgust, and he had a considerable force with him. He declared that soldiers were necessary for the safety of the commissioners, and perhaps they were; but their presence brought danger of another sort. In the town the governor had many enemies and the rebels many friends, and brawls took place between them and some of Bingham’s men, who were probably indignant at the treatment of a chief whom they trusted, and who habitually led them to victory. ‘Nay, sirs,’ said Sir Richard to two of the Burkes who were stating their grievances, ‘would you not be clean rid of a sheriff, or would you not have a MacWilliam established among you?’ The commissioners professed themselves unable to detect any such intention, but the event showed that Bingham was right. Sir Morrogh O’Flaherty and the Blind Abbot refused altogether to come into Bingham’s presence, and the commissioners agreed to meet them outside the town. The trysting-place was an abbey beyond the river, probably the dissolved friary of the Dominicans, and Bingham blamed the commissioners for trusting themselves in a place where violence was easy, while some of his followers illustrated this opinion in a very curious way. Two men, dressed like nuns, or at least like women with ‘mantles and caps,’ and a third in a black gown, which may have been intended to represent the garb of St. Dominic, passed through the church while the commissioners were in the choir. ‘Let us go and tarry no longer,’ said Jones, ‘for I see they do begin to mock us already,’ and accordingly they regained their boat and went back to the town. The masqueraders, who were joined by others, took their place in the choir and went through the farce of a parley. Afterwards they paraded the streets, ‘I am the Bishop of Meath,’ said one. Another said, ‘I am the Justice Dillon; reverence for the Queen’s Commissioners,’ and so on. In the end, after several abortive discussions, Jones and his colleagues left Galway without concluding peace. It is evident that Bingham’s discontented subjects distrusted each other quite as much as they did him. Sir Morrogh O’Flaherty was ready to make separate terms for himself, and the Burkes feared to promise anything, lest others should take advantage of them. Bingham’s hands were untied, and he proceeded to restore order in his own way.[196]

O’Connor Sligo’s case.

Bingham defeats his claim.

Sir Donnell O’Connor of Sligo had surrendered his possessions to the Queen and taken out a fresh grant with remainder to the heirs male of his father. The castle and Dominican friary were originally founded by the Kildare family, and the O’Connors were technically their constables; but attainders intervened, and the claim was too antiquated to weigh much with Elizabethan statesmen. Sir Donnell died about the beginning of 1588, and his nephew Donough claimed to succeed him. According to Bingham, both Donough and his father Cahil Oge were illegitimate, and he was anxious to have the castle of Sligo in safe hands, because it commanded the passage from Ulster into Connaught. Donough, who was attached to Leicester, declared that the governor’s real object was to get all for his brother George; but Bingham’s proposal was that the barony of Carbury, on account of its strategic importance, should be retained for the Queen, and that all O’Connor Sligo’s lands in the neighbouring districts should be regranted to Donough. A commission, consisting of the Bishop of Meath, Sir Robert Dillon, and others, was appointed by Perrott to inquire into the matter, and they decided in favour of Donough. Bingham declared that they were quite wrong, and that he gave up Sligo under compulsion, for fear of disobeying the Lord Deputy, and in plain defiance of the Queen’s real interest. After Perrott’s departure from Ireland a further inquiry into Donough’s title was made, the commissioners being Bingham himself, with Chief Justice Sir Robert Gardiner and Mr. Justice Walshe. The jurors were substantial men, but it was alleged that Bingham had taken one of them by the beard, and threatened to punish him as a traitor if he persisted in finding Donough legitimate. After five days a verdict was obtained for the Crown, and the Chief Justice particularly stated that the trial was impartial, that all O’Connor’s challenges were allowed, and that Bingham did not use a harsh word to any witness or juror. Sligo remained in safe hands during the time the Armada was on the coast. Walsingham wrote a stinging rebuke to Bishop Jones for his corrupt conduct in the matter, and for his malice to Bingham. ‘It was told me at what time you were in England that I should in the end find you a hypocrite. And what better reckoning can I make of you... this practice of yours, though not by Sir Richard Bingham, is sufficiently discovered already from Ireland, and the gentleman I doubt not will stand upright there, in despite of all your malice.’ Others accused Jones of acting entirely under Dillon’s guidance, and the latter of receiving bribes. William Nugent, the ex-rebel of the Pale, said that he received 100 cows for making a false record.[197]

Walsingham supports Bingham.

Bishop Jones was profuse in apologies both to Walsingham and Burghley; and, though Swift calls him a rascal, there is no proof that he acted corruptly in the matter, while it might not be safe to say as much of Sir Robert Dillon. On June 10, Fitzwilliam himself arrived at Galway, whence Bingham departed at his urgent request, and on the following day the Blind Abbot and Sir Murrogh ne Doe O’Flaherty made their submissions openly in the church of St. Nicholas, and remained on their knees for nearly three-quarters of an hour. The Lord Deputy received a statement of their grievances in writing, and lost no time in advising Burghley that he thought they would never trust their lives under Bingham’s government. A few days later, Sir Richard told Walsingham that Fitzwilliam only impoverished Connaught by the cost of his train, that he had done nothing in three weeks, and that the province was a prey to rebels whom he, the governor, was forbidden to chastise. Hostages had been given, Archbishop Garvey’s eldest son among them, for the chiefs lately received on submission—‘a couple of doating old fools,’ who were amply protected by the garrison. O’Rourke was the real head of the rebellion, and he was shielded by the spite of Jones and the corruption of Dillon. The Queen’s representatives, he added, had, in fact, sued for peace, and it was not worth having, for the other parties were beggars and wretches. The terms were that the chiefs should disperse their forces and go home, that they should surrender any foreigners among them, that they should make such reparation for their rebellion as the Lord Deputy should appoint, and that they should pay for all the harm they had done since the first appointment of the Commissioners.[198]

The attack on Bingham fails.

The O’Flaherties.

Fitzwilliam refused to let Bingham confront his accusers at Galway, lest the terror of his presence should silence them. The result was that their uncontradicted statements were sent over to England, and Walsingham’s wrath was hot within him. The unfairness of the procedure was evident, the reason for it much less so. ‘It may fall out, my Lord Deputy, to be your own case, for it is no new thing in that realm to have deputies accused.’ Considering Walsingham’s evident prejudice against him, Fitzwilliam suggested that the Queen should give him a successor. The trial of the case was removed to Dublin; and the Lord Deputy foretold that no Connaught chief would go there to accuse Bingham. If fear did not prevent such a journey, poverty would. And so it turned out. Much was proved against inferior officers, and there can be no doubt that the Governor of Connaught was apt to shield useful underlings under almost any circumstances. That he was guilty of extreme severity, and that he executed children who were retained as hostages, is probably true. But he managed the province well, and got a large revenue out of it. And it is certain that he had friends among the Irish as well as enemies. Among these was Roger O’Flaherty, grandfather of the author of Ogygia. This Roger owned the castle and lands of Moycullen, and had long complained of Sir Murrogh’s usurpations. It seems that he was satisfied, for he wrote strongly in the Governor’s favour, who also befriended him with the English Government. Sir Murrogh was an enterprising man, and never made the impossible attempt to prove his title to land. ‘Why, man,’ he told his own counsel, ‘I got it by the sword; what title should I say else?’ Bingham was an absolute ruler. Opposition he checked ruthlessly, and he cared little for constitutional forms. He took no pains to conciliate anyone, and was of course accused of provoking men to rebel. Nor did he care to disguise his opinion that many of the Irish ought to be rooted out. Perhaps the worst charge against him is that made by Fitzwilliam, who called him an atheist, ‘for that he careth not what he doeth, nor to say anything how untrue soever, so it may serve his turn.’[199]

Bingham and Bishop Jones.

Fitzwilliam and Jones acknowledged that William Burke, the Blind Abbot, was a fool, and on the whole the person who suffered most from the inquiry into Bingham’s conduct was the Bishop of Meath. Sir Richard said his lordship blamed intemperate language, while he himself exclaimed at cards, ‘God’s wounds! play the ten of hearts.’ He was so busy preparing a case against him that he found no time to preach once during the three weeks that he spent at Galway, though he would go to church in the morning to hear an exercise and again in the afternoon to hear a play. He was superseded in the Connaught commission, and Walsingham rebuked him for not attending to his own proper duties. The Bishop’s apology was almost abject, and he promised to give up temporal business. He had, he said, not neglected his own diocese, though thinking it unnecessary to preach in Dublin more than once a term. Fitzwilliam defended him, and he was employed again during Walsingham’s life, but not in business connected with Connaught. Loftus, whose wife’s sister he had married, considered him as one of his own family, and urged that the Papists had taken great advantage of the Bishop’s disgrace.[200]

Sir Brian O’Rourke.

The composition in Connaught had been favourable to the power of Sir Brian O’Rourke, the chief of Leitrim. Nominally, his jurisdiction over the people of his country was restrained; but so large a share of land was given to him absolutely that he found himself stronger than ever, and refused to acknowledge the Governor of Connaught, maintaining that he was under no man except the Lord Deputy himself. In the original scheme for shireing Leitrim made in 1583 a considerable part of Fermanagh was included, but the arrangement did not hold for the purposes of the composition agreed upon two years later. O’Rourke’s country, as then defined, is contained within the modern county of Leitrim. Its contents were roughly estimated at some 75,000 acres. Of this nominal area more than 8,000 acres were allowed to O’Rourke in demesne. Out of about 50,000 more he was permitted to receive a rent of 300l. a year, and the rest he was to hold by three knights’ fees. The smaller freeholders were required to pay ten shillings a year out of each quarter of 120 acres, and to supply eight horsemen and forty footmen on general hostings. Old MacMurry, one of these subordinate chiefs, wept with joy and blessed the good Queen. ‘We have,’ he said, ‘heretofore paid O’Rourke better than ten marks, or a quarter; and shall we indeed escape now for a trifle of twenty shillings!’ But O’Rourke refused to pay his rent to Bingham, and was friendly to the intruding Scots. After their overthrow at Ardnaree it was no longer possible to despise the Governor, but O’Rourke persuaded Perrott to remit part of what he owed, and it was not until after that Deputy’s departure that Bingham found himself really master. When the Spaniards came, Sir Brian did what he could to help them, and his rent was soon again in arrear. The King of Spain sent a friar with letters of thanks for his services to the Armada, and early in 1589 he was reported to be in open rebellion, and to be acting under the secret advice of Tyrone. His sons and brothers, with more than 400 men, swept the northern part of Sligo to the Moy, and drove off 3,000 cows and 1,000 mares. O’Rourke kept so many armed men among the bogs and hills of Leitrim that it was said he could not feed them without spoiling a neighbouring county.[201]

O’Rourke defies the Queen.

O’Rourke had struggled hard to prevent a sheriff from being established in his country, and it was natural that he should wish to retain his autonomy. But his unwillingness to obey any authority lay much deeper than any mere dislike to Sir Richard Bingham. About a month after the slaughter of the Scots at Ardnaree in 1586 the Serjeant-at-arms for Connaught saw a wooden figure of a woman set on wheels near MacClancy’s house on Lough Melvin. The bystanders told him it was meant for a hag who lived over the water, and who had denied a carpenter milk. This seems to have been the same effigy as that on which O’Rourke caused the words ‘Queen Elizabeth’ to be written, and upon which he showered abuse, while the gallowglasses hacked it with their axes. A halter was placed round the neck of the mutilated figure, and it was then dragged through the dirt by horses. This was an incident in the Christmas festivities which Sir Brian kept ‘according the Romish and Popish computation’—that is the Gregorian calendar—and he took the opportunity of announcing that her Majesty was ‘the mother and nurse of all heresies and heretics.’ Bingham did not hear of the matter until after his return from the Low Countries; but it was reported to Perrott, and his refusal to order O’Rourke’s arrest was brought against him at his trial.[202]

Fitzwilliam gives Bingham his way.

Sir Brian O’Rourke was lawfully married to Lady Mary Burke, and her only son Teig had a grant of the family estates in the next reign. But he had an elder son by the wife of John O’Crean, a merchant of Sligo, and it was to him that the chiefry was likely to fall. The work of chastising O’Rourke was entrusted by Bingham to Clanricarde, and it seems to have been a labour of love, either because the Earl resented wrongs done to his sister, or because he hated her former misdeeds, or because he felt that his nephew’s case had some resemblance to what his own had been. With thirty horsemen and some kerne of his own, and two regular companies, he set out from Elphin and marched to Ballinafad, where news came that O’Rourke was at his house near Lough Gill. Clanricarde asked Captain Mordaunt if his soldiers could go another fourteen miles the same night, and was told that they would do their best. The daylight overtook them at some distance from O’Rourke’s house, and they had to fight after their long night’s march. The O’Rourkes fell back into a bog, and Clanricarde insisted on following them with his horse. He was dismounted, and a spur torn from his heel. The bullets flew thickly about him, and Mordaunt’s men came up only just in time, his gallantry exciting the admiration of the English officers. O’Rourke was never able to make head again, but he probably fancied himself safe in his own country. When the Lord Deputy held sessions at Sligo a few months later, he refused to attend, on the ground that the Binghams had something to do with them. The result was that Fitzwilliam accepted Bingham’s policy as against O’Rourke, though he was always ready, and often with very good reason, to testify against the Governor’s harshness and against the tyranny of his brothers, cousins, and followers.[203]

Bingham subdues the Burkes.

While it was still uncertain whether Bingham or his enemies would get the upper hand, the Burkes continued in rebellion. They went about in bands of 500 or 600, openly celebrated the Mass, and robbed all who were not with them. The Blind Abbot was made MacWilliam, with all the ancient ceremonies, and in virtue of his office he proceeded to assault and capture a castle garrisoned by Attorney-General Comerford’s men. When Bingham had gained his cause in Dublin, it became evident that his policy must prevail; and a letter from the Queen herself, whom the creation of a MacWilliam touched in her tenderest point, probably decided Fitzwilliam’s course. He made arrangements to have a strong force at Galway, and went there himself, to make a last effort for peace. Sir Murrogh ne Doe came in, but failed to find acceptable pledges, and was lodged in gaol. The Burkes did not appear, and some thought their contumacy was caused by the wording of the proclamation, which gave safe conduct to come, but not to return. It may be remembered that no less a personage than Shane O’Neill had been detained in virtue of a quibble of this kind. At all events the time of grace was allowed to pass, and Bingham went to work in earnest. With about 1,000 men, of whom more than three-quarters were regular soldiers, he swept Tyrawley from end to end. Only once, in a defile of the Nephin range, did the rebels make a stand, and they burned their own villages without waiting to be attacked. The poor MacWilliam had cause to rue his blushing honours, for he had a foot cut off by one of Thomond’s soldiers, with a single blow of his sword. That Earl marched on foot through the mountains, and Clanricarde was also very active. The wounded chief lay for several days, without meat or drink, in an island in Lough Conn, and was afterwards drawn on a hurdle from place to place, to seek the alms of his clansmen. ‘It is not,’ said Bingham, ‘a halfpenny matter what becomes of him now.’ The Burkes all submitted, on Sir Richard’s own terms, and peace was concluded with them.[204]

O’Rourke is expelled,

surrendered by James VI.,

and hanged.

O’Rourke’s turn had now come. He may have supposed that his country was unassailable, but was quickly undeceived. Bingham had no doubt about being able to subdue him in ten days, but refused to move without written orders from the Lord Deputy, lest he might be disavowed afterwards. The order was given, and the Governor, who was suffering from dysentery, sent four divisions of soldiers into Leitrim under his brother George and Sir Henry Duke. Some malcontent O’Rourkes helped the English, and much damage was done. The mere presence of so large a force was enough to exhaust the district, and the subordinate chiefs were glad to make their peace, and perhaps glad to free themselves from O’Rourke, who fled to the MacSwineys in Donegal. Cuellar’s friend MacClancy was hunted down, and killed as he tried to swim to one of his islands. He had still fourteen Spaniards with him, and some of these were taken alive. O’Rourke remained during the rest of the year in Donegal, and then escaped to Scotland, but James gave him up to the English Government. In thanking her dear brother for this, Elizabeth wondered how his ‘subjects of Glasgow should doubt the stop of their traffic for so poor a caitiff, who was never of ability to make or give traffic.’ In London O’Rourke justified Sidney’s assertion as to his being the proudest man he had ever dealt with, for he demanded that the Queen herself should judge him. His refusal to surrender Spaniards after the proclamation was treason, and he was told the indictment was sufficient if he refused to plead. ‘If it must be so,’ he said, ‘let it be so,’ and he was accordingly condemned and hanged at Tyburn, with all the usual barbarities. He was attended on the scaffold by Miler Magrath, but refused his ministrations and upbraided the old Franciscan as an apostate. He had previously refused to bend the knee before the Council. ‘I have always thought,’ he said, ‘that a great distance separated you from God and the Saints, whose images alone I am accustomed to venerate.’[205]

Mutiny in Dublin.

Experience had shown the many evils of an ill-paid soldiery, but efforts at reform were not always wisely directed. New-comers and raw levies were sometimes better treated than the old garrison. Those whose services were yet to come got all the available money, while veterans, ‘who passed all the soldiers in Europe in the travel and hard diet they had endured,’ had to put up with scanty and irregular payments on account. Old soldiers saw their boys receive a shilling a day in punctual weekly payments while their own sevenpence was often in arrear. In May 1590, in the absence of their commander and without the knowledge of their officers, Sir Thomas Norris’s company of foot suddenly left Limerick, and appeared in Dublin with drums and fifes playing. At eight in the morning they assembled on the bridge at the Castle gate, and clamoured for their pay and allowances, many months in arrear. Fitzwilliam, whose passage was obstructed by them, at first thought of a whiff of grape-shot, but changed his mind, and sallied forth among the mutineers. Sir George Carew bore the sword before him. ‘Rather than let it go,’ said Archbishop Loftus, ‘your lordship may be sure he will do as the Mayor of London did.’ The services of a Walworth were not required, and, indeed, the poor soldiers seem to have had no evil intentions. They besought Fitzwilliam to be good to them, and only one man used some offensive expression. The Lord Deputy turned his horse upon him, calling him baggage and mutinous knave, and drew his blade when the man held up his piece in self-defence. Gentlemen and servants streamed out of the Castle and drew their swords, and Fitzwilliam cried out, ‘Disarm these villains!’ They made no resistance, but fell upon their knees, and sixty-one out of seventy-seven were imprisoned. Many of the arms were stolen in the confusion. Fitzwilliam soon pardoned the mutineers, and sent them back to Munster. ‘The choler,’ says Carew, ‘that his lordship was in was very exceeding abundant, yet so tempered that any man might discern that his valour did appear unspotted either with fear or cruelty, for he thrust himself into the midst of them all without respect of his person, and struck many with the flat of his rapier, yet hurt none saving one of them a little in the head, and holding the point of it at sundry of their breasts, forebore to thrust any of them into the body.’[206]

Tyrone and Tirlogh Luineach.

Tyrone hangs one of Shane O’Neill’s sons,

and aims at supremacy in Ulster.

The part of Tyrone lying north and west of the Mullaghcarne mountains had been retained by Tirlogh Luineach in 1585, when he agreed to take 1,000 marks a year for the rest. The lease was for seven years, but O’Neill had reserved and wished to exercise the power of taking back the territory in three, which expired at Michaelmas 1588. Fitzwilliam, who had a strong bias in the Earl’s favour, obtained the remaining four years for him, but on condition of paying 300 fat beeves a year in addition to the rent. The two chiefs continued nevertheless to quarrel, and it is curious to note how the English officials sided with Tyrone. The mere fact that he represented the settlement by patent was enough for many of them, and they did not see the danger of making him supreme in the North. Shane O’Neill’s sons were giving trouble, and the ghost seemed more terrible than the reality. Con MacShane had long been a prisoner with Tirlogh Luineach, but was now released and taken into his confidence. A brother, Hugh Gavelagh, who had been two years in Scotland, now returned to Ulster, and was supposed to have incurred Tyrone’s enmity by giving information to the Government. He had promised Perrott to bring over no Scots, and he kept his word; but it was known that he might have plenty if he wished, and his popularity in the North was very great. Hugh Gavelagh was seized by some of the Maguires, sold to Tyrone, and by him hanged on a thorn-tree, and it was reported all over Ireland that the Earl could find no executioner, and had to do the business himself. This he denied, giving the names of the actual operators, and defending his conduct strenuously. Hugh Gavelagh, he said, had murdered many men, women, and children, and there was no regular law in Ulster, ‘but certain customs ... and I hope her Majesty will consider that, as her Highness’s lieutenant under the Deputy (as I take myself within my own territory), I am bound to do justice upon thieves and murderers; otherwise, if I be restrained from such-like executions, and liberty left to O’Neill, O’Donnell, and others to use their ancient customs, then should I not be able to defend my country from their violence and wrongs.’ In this sentence we have the whole difficulty of Tudor rule in Ireland briefly expressed. The Government was not strong enough to enforce equal justice, and practically confessed its impotence by allowing authority to lapse into the hands of Tyrone and such as he. From Fitzwilliam downwards, nearly all the officials seemed to think that they could keep things quiet by strengthening a man who aimed at being O’Neill in the fullest sense of the word, but who was quite ready to play at being an earl when it suited him, and to remember his English education. Walsingham saw more clearly from a distance, and wished to make Tirlogh Luineach Earl of Omagh, with an estate of inheritance in his part of Tyrone, and with a superiority over O’Cahan for life. To his rival he was willing to give the rest, including a perpetual superiority over Maguire. But Tyrone was determined to have all, and the men immediately responsible for order found it convenient to support the younger, the abler, and, as it turned out, the more ambitious and dangerous man.[207]

Rival O’Neills.

The MacShanes.

In order to understand the history of Ulster during the last decade of Queen Elizabeth, it may be well to define the position of parties there just before Tyrone entered upon his last struggle. Besides the Earl himself, who was for a long time looked upon as the representative of English ideas, and who was probably not an O’Neill at all, there were three families who claimed to be at the head of the ruling race. Tirlogh Brasselagh, Shane O’Neill’s uncle, claimed to be the eldest of the house, and, according to ancient Celtic notions, he had perhaps the best right. His lands lay to the south of Lough Neagh, and he had many sons; but his party was, on the whole, the weakest. Tirlogh Luineach, the actual chief, represented the family of Art Oge, who had long been excluded from the supremacy, and he was thought to hold his position more by force and policy than by right. His eldest son, Sir Arthur, seems not to have been legitimate, but was fully acknowledged as his heir male both by Tyrone and by the Government: his influence was greatest in what are now the baronies of Strabane. The third set of pretenders were Shane O’Neill’s seven sons, known as the MacShanes. Their legitimacy is not worth discussing; but they were favourites with the Irish, and by them generally thought to have the best right. Hugh Gavelagh, Con, and Brian were at this time the most formidable. Tyrone says he made an agreement with Tirlogh Luineach that one of these three should always remain with him as hostage, that Hugh Gavelagh’s neck was specially pledged for its performance, and that the breach was the cause of his death. The other brothers were Henry, Arthur, Edmund, and Tirlogh. With a score or so of fighting O’Neills, all trying to be first, it is not surprising that Ulster was turbulent, or that its reduction by the strong hand was only a question of time.[208]

Rival O’Donnells.

The actual chief of Tyrconnell was Sir Hugh O’Donnell, the husband of Ineen Duive, whose own son, Hugh Roe, was in prison. Donnell, an elder and seemingly illegitimate son, by an Irish mother, was made sheriff by Fitzwilliam in 1588, and was a thorn in Ineen’s side. Calvagh’s son Con died in 1583, but he in turn left nine sons, of whom Nial Garv was the most formidable, and their claims under the patent could hardly be denied. A third set of pretenders were the descendants of Hugh Duff, who were of the eldest blood, and who appealed to Celtic law. But the favourite of the clansmen was young Hugh Roe. All the tribes of the North depended more or less upon O’Donnell and O’Neill, and the lesser chiefries were in dispute as much as the greater.[209]

Hugh Roe O’Donnell.

Kidnapped by Perrott, 1587.

There was a prophecy that Ireland should be delivered by the O’Donnells when Hugh succeeded lawfully to Hugh. Its fulfilment was expected in Henry VIII.’s time, and now again it was in men’s mouths. Perrott, who had small regard for such fancies, noticed the boy’s importance, and decided that he would be a good pledge. In the winter of 1587, he sent a ship laden with wine and manned by fifty armed men round to Lough Swilly, where the master, John Bermingham of Dublin, traded freely with the natives. Hugh Roe came to hunt in the neighbourhood, or to visit MacSwiney Fanad, near whose castle of Rathmullen the false merchantman lay. As soon as the strangers heard of his arrival they went on board and kept careful watch. In due course messengers came from MacSwiney, who wanted wine to entertain his distinguished guest. Bermingham answered that he had sold all he had to spare, but would be most happy to entertain MacSwiney and the gentlemen with him. They came on board accordingly, and when they had caroused for some time in the cabin, the seamen quietly got under way, shut down the hatches, and carried the whole party out to sea. Pursuit was impossible, for the natives had no boats; and Hugh Roe was lodged in Dublin Castle, where he found many companions in misfortune, and where prisoners ‘beguiled the time only by lamenting to each other their troubles, and listening to the cruel sentences passed on the high-born nobles of Ireland.’[210]

First escape of Hugh Roe O’Donnell, 1591.

Although not more than fifteen or sixteen years old, Hugh Roe was married to Tyrone’s daughter, and the whole North was thus interested in his safety. Perrott refused 2,000l. for his release, and he remained in prison until Fitzwilliam’s time. His brother Donnell, who married a daughter of Tirlogh Luineach, would have seized the chiefry, had he not been killed in resisting a force raised by Ineen Duive on behalf of her husband and son. Hugh’s fellow-prisoners were hostages from every part of Ireland: among them being Henry and Arthur, sons of Shane O’Neill, and Patrick Fitzmaurice, afterwards Lord of Kerry. The seneschal of Imokilly died in the Castle early in 1589. After more than three years’ confinement, Hugh Roe found means to escape with some of his friends. A wet ditch at that time surrounded the Castle, and the approach was over the wooden bridge, where the Lord Deputy had lately come into collision with the mutineers. The favour, almost amounting to subservience, which Fitzwilliam showed to Tyrone made people think that he was ready to connive at his son-in-law’s escape; but this is very hard to believe. ‘Upon my duty,’ he said when supporting one of the Earl’s numerous applications for Hugh’s release, ‘no reward maketh me write thus much.’ Friendly partisans were numerous in Dublin, and the soldiers who kept the gate always wanted money, and were often under female influences. A rope was conveyed into the Castle, and Hugh slipped on to the bridge in the dusk of evening. The sentry was for the moment inside the gatehouse, and the prisoners managed to chain the gate on the outside. Art Kavanagh, ‘a renowned warrior of Leinster,’ was near with swords hidden under his Irish mantle, and the whole party slipped out of the town, and across the mountains to a wood near Powerscourt. Hugh’s companions here left him, for his shoes had fallen to pieces with the wet, and his feet were lacerated by the furze. Felim O’Toole, the lord of the neighbouring castles, was appealed to; for he had lately visited Hugh in prison, and was supposed to be his friend, the rather that he had married the sister of Feagh MacHugh O’Byrne. Fearing to offend the Government, or believing that escape was hopeless, O’Toole decided to gain credit for loyalty, and he gave up the fugitive, who was taken back to Dublin and loaded with irons.[211]

Tyrone elopes with Mabel Bagenal,

which her brother resents.

A plot in private life may have great public consequences, as every generation can testify. The Helen of the Elizabethan wars was Mabel Bagenal, daughter of Sir Nicholas and sister of Sir Henry, whose charms were at least one principal cause of the Ulster revolt. Tyrone had been first married to a daughter of Sir Brian MacPhelim O’Neill, from whom, according to his own account, he was ‘divorced by the orders of the Church.’ As to the validity of this divorce there were certainly doubts at the time, but the repudiated wife married again and had children. Tyrone’s second venture was with an O’Donnell, and he talked of discarding her too, though possibly without intending to do it. She died, and he then fell in love with Miss Bagenal, whom he might see at Newry as often as he pleased. Bagenal would not consent to the match, and his objections had some weight: the possible opposition of the Queen, ‘the incivility of the Earl’s country not agreeing with his sister’s education, and the uncertainty of a jointure to be allotted for her maintenance after the Earl’s death,’ being those which seemed important to the Irish Government. Tyrone was a much more civilised being than Shane O’Neill, and Mabel Bagenal was more accustomed to Irish ways than Lady Frances Radclyffe; but Bagenal hated the proposed alliance as much as Sussex. ‘I can,’ he told Burghley, ‘but accurse myself and fortune that my blood, which in my father and myself hath often been spilled in repressing this rebellious race, should now be mingled with so traitorous a stock and kindred.’ To keep her out of harm’s way, he sent Mabel to her sister, who was married to Sir Patrick Barnewall, and who lived at Turvey near Swords; but Tyrone invited himself to the house for a night, obtained a secret promise of her hand, and presented her with a gold chain worth a hundred pounds. A few days after this he came to Turvey to dine with several friends, and after dinner the young lady slipped away on horseback behind one of them. ‘When I understood,’ he said, ‘that my prey (the language of cattle-lifting) was well forward in her way towards the place where we had agreed upon, I took my leave of Sir Patrick Barnewall and his lady, and followed after, and soon after I was gone, the gentlemen which were in company with me took their horses and came away privately.’[212]

Tyrone’s marriage, 1591.

Tyrone was fifty and Mabel twenty, which makes the romance rather less romantic, and Bagenal may have been right in saying that he did ‘by taking advantage of her years and ignorance of his barbarous estate and course of living, entice the unfortunate girl by nursing in her through the report of some corrupted persons an opinion of his haviour and greatness.’ At all events she probably liked the idea of being a countess. Tyrone’s intentions were so far honourable, in spite of Bagenal’s insinuations to the contrary, and the marriage was celebrated at William Warren’s house near Dublin, by no less a person than the Bishop of Meath, who declared that he was chiefly actuated by regard ‘for the gentlewoman’s credit.’ And, as Tyrone well knew, regard for Bishop Jones’s credit would prevent the marriage from being seriously questioned. But Bagenal’s hostility was unabated, and even in his sister’s presence Tyrone openly declared that he hated no man in the world so much as the Knight Marshal. There is no evidence that he ill-treated her, as Shane ill-treated his victim, but there is some that she was not altogether happy in the wild life which she had chosen, or with her crafty and unscrupulous mate. She died after less than five years of matrimony, and so did not live to see her brother killed in conflict with her husband.[213]

FOOTNOTES:

[187] Fitzwilliam to the Privy Council, Dec. 31, 1588; to Burghley, Aug. 20, 1590; Robert Legge to Burghley, Feb. 17, 1590; Four Masters, 1588; Fynes Moryson, 1589; compare Captain Lee’s account in Desiderata Curiosa Hibernica, i. 129. Sir John O’Gallagher is called Sir Owen O’Toole in some English accounts, but this is wrong and misleading; the Christian name is Eoin not Eogan. Fynes Moryson was not in Ireland in 1588, and very probably copied Lee’s story.

[188] Fitzwilliam to the Privy Council, Dec. 31, 1588; Tyrone to Walsingham, Feb. 5, 1589; Patrick Foxe to Walsingham, Feb. 12.

[189] Book of the proceeding of Commissioners for ‘aryer’ claims in Munster, Sept. 3, 1588, of which there is a copy or rather a version (Aug. 29-Sept. 14) at Hatfield, with many details. Most of the facts in this and the two preceding paragraphs are from Mr. Hamilton’s Calendar 1588-1592. See also No. 128, 1591, in Carew. In 1597 Sir Nicholas Browne prophetically described the settlers as ‘fowls fatted in mews, to be spoiled at the pleasure of the country people’ (MS. Cotton, privately printed by Mr. Hussey.)

[190] Everything about Florence MacCarthy may be read in his Life and Letters by Daniel MacCarthy, a book of much research, but unfortunately even more chaotic than the common run of family histories.

[191] The documents are collected in Shirley’s History of Monaghan, pp. 80-91. The notes in O’Donovan’s Four Masters are very incorrect in this case, though they have often been copied. Essex was much pressed to surrender his patent for Farney, but steadily refused.

[192] Sir N. White to Burghley, April 7 and May 9, 1589; report by Bingham, April 10, and his answer to charges in November (No. 39).

[193] Among many papers concerning Browne, see his letter to Walsingham, June 10, 1585; Bingham to Perrott, July 30, 1586; Patrick Foxe to Walsingham, Feb. 26, 1589. The murder took place between the last date and Jan. 13, when Bingham’s commission to Browne was signed. For Walsingham’s views see Morrin’s Patent Rolls 26 Eliz. (No. 39). The Four Masters make out that Browne and Daly were killed in battle, but this was clearly not the case.

[194] Bingham to Burghley, April 6, 1589; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, April 9, with fourteen enclosures.

[195] Report of the Commissioners in Fitzwilliam’s letter to Burghley May 14, 1589.

[196] Bishop of Kilmore to Burghley, May 10, 1589; Bishop of Meath to same, May 13; Fitzwilliam to same, May 14, with enclosures; Bingham to Walsingham, May 23.

[197] Bingham to Burghley, Feb. 24, May 15 and 28, Aug. 26, 1588; Perrott to Walsingham, March 18, 1588; Gardiner, C.J., to Walsingham, Jan. 31, 1589; case of O’Connor Sligo, Feb. (No. 53); Walsingham to the Bishop of Meath, June 24; Kildare to Nottingham, May 31, 1590; and a paper dated Feb. 21, 1592; William Nugent’s Articles, Aug. 14, 1591.

[198] Fitzwilliam to Burghley, July 19, 1589; Bingham to Walsingham, July 24 and Sept. 4; the Articles are printed from a Cotton MS. in O’Flaherty’s Western Connaught, p. 396.

[199] Walsingham to Fitzwilliam, July 8, 1589; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Aug. 9, Sept. 2, Oct. 6, and Dec. 19; Summary of rebellion by John Merbury, Aug. 1. Fitzwilliam calls Bingham ‘atheist,’ but Bishop Jones (to Burghley, May 13) said he was ‘a gentleman of great value, and one that feareth God.’ The Bishop sums up the causes of his great unpopularity under four heads:—1. Hanging gentlemen by martial law. 2. Commissions to prosecute protected persons by fire and sword. 3. Dispossessing men from their land by ‘provincial orders’ without legal trial. 4. Oppression by the soldiers.

[200] Bingham to Walsingham, June 24, 1589; Bingham’s answer to charges, Nov.; Sir N. White to Burghley, Dec. 5; Bishop Jones to Burghley, Dec. 6, and to Walsingham, Dec. 8; Loftus to Walsingham, Dec. 8; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Dec. 13.

[201] The composition with O’Rourke, and much else concerning Leitrim, may be read in Hardiman’s notes to O’Flaherty’s Western Connaught, pp. 346-352; Bingham’s Discourse, July 1587; Bingham to Burghley, May 15 and 28, 1588; John Crofton and others to Bingham, Oct. 19, 1588; Bingham to Fitzwilliam, March 6, 1589; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, with enclosures, April 30; John Merbury to Burghley, Sept. 27, 1589.

[202] Bingham to Burghley, April 6, 1589; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, April 9, 1589, and Oct. 31, 1591; John Ball’s declaration, April 1590 (No. 96); John Bingham to Burghley, Aug. 8, 1591.

[203] Captain Nicholas Mordaunt to Fitzwilliam, May 11, 1589; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Oct. 6; Account of O’Rourke’s country by Fenton and Burghley, Feb. 1592 (No. 43).

[204] Theobald Dillon to Burghley, Oct. 18, 1589; Edward Whyte to Sir N. White, Oct. 20; the Queen to Fitzwilliam, Nov. 19; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Dec. 19; to the Privy Council, Jan. 27 and March 2 and 24, 1590, with enclosures; Bingham to Burghley, April 7.

[205] Fitzwilliam to Burghley, March 24, 1590, with enclosures; Bingham to Burghley, April 23; Camden. Bruce’s Letters of Elizabeth and James VI., April 1591. The charges against O’Rourke are detailed in the Egerton Papers; O’Sullivan Bere, tom. iii. lib. ii. cap. 1; Four Masters, 1590 and 1591. It is stated in O’Donovan’s notes to the Annals, and in many other places, that O’Rourke begged to be hanged with a withe, and Bacon’s essays are given as an authority; but this is not what Bacon says. His words (No. 39, ‘Of Custom and Education’) are: ‘I remember in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth’s time of England, an Irish rebel condemned put up a petition to the Deputy that he might be hanged in a withe and not in a halter, because it had been so used with former rebels.’

[206] Relation by Carew, May 28, 1590, and his letters of May 31 and July 26 to Burghley, Raleigh, and Heneage, all in Carew. The Master of the Ordnance evidently sympathises with the poor soldiers. See also Loftus to Hatton and Burghley, May 31.

[207] Walsingham’s opinion and other papers in April 1587; Lord Deputy and Council to the Privy Council, March 31 and May 15, 1589; Kildare to Burghley, May 31, 1590; Tyrone’s answer to Articles, March 19, 1590. All Fitzwilliam’s letters during this period bear out the text; see the Four Masters, who say Hugh Gavelagh was greatly lamented, and O’Donovan’s notes under 1590.

[208] Archbishop Magrath’s report to the Queen, May 30, 1592; for Sir Arthur O’Neill see Tirlogh Luineach’s petition, July 1, 1587; for the MacShanes see Tyrone’s answer to Articles, March 19, 1590, and the opinion of Coke, S.G., Aug. 13, 1592.

[209] The O’Donnell tangle may be understood from Archbishop Magrath’s report, May 30, 1592, and from the Appendix to O’Donovan’s Four Masters See also Fitzwilliam, Loftus, and Fenton to the Privy Council, Dec. 31, 1588.

[210] Four Masters, 1587; Perrott’s Life, p. 278; Tyrone to Walsingham, Dec. 10, 1587.

[211] Four Masters, 1590; Note of pledges in Dublin Castle, Aug. 1588; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Nov. 29, 1589, and to Sir G. Carew in Carew, Jan. 15, 1591.

[212] Lord Deputy and Council to the Privy Council, Aug. 21, 1591; Sir H. Bagenal to Burghley, Aug. 13; Tyrone to the Privy Council, Oct. 31.

[213] The documents are collected in the Irish Arch. Journal, N. S. vol. i. pp. 298-314. One of Tyrone’s main grievances against Bagenal was that he would not pay him the 1,000l. reserved to his sister by her father’s will; and he continued to clamour for this money even after poor Mabel’s death.

[CHAPTER XLIV.]

ADMINISTRATION OF FITZWILLIAM, 1592-1594.

Second escape of Hugh O’Donnell, 1592.

His sufferings from exposure.

He reaches Donegal.

It was no new thing that prisoners should escape from Dublin Castle, nor that they should be brought back again; and Hugh Roe did not despair. A year after his first attempt, and at the same evening hour, he knocked off his irons and lowered himself with a long rope into the ditch. His companions were Shane O’Neill’s sons, Henry and Art, and they were helped outside by Tyrone’s confidential servant, Tirlogh O’Hagan. The fugitives passed through the streets unnoticed, and reached the mountains that same night. Their sufferings from exposure were great, and Art O’Neill, who had grown fat in prison, and had besides received a blow from a falling stone when getting out of it, was forced to lie down under a rock at the foot of the mountains. Edward Eustace, who had been sent by Feagh MacHugh to act as guide, was now despatched to that chief, and food and beer were sent to their relief. The men who brought the provisions said that O’Neill was past help, and there he died. Hugh was badly frostbitten and the nails of his great toes afterwards fell off, but he was able to drink some beer, and they carried him to a solitary house in the woods of Glenmalure. In due course Tyrone sent a messenger, with whom he travelled northwards, though he had to be lifted into the saddle and out of it. Felim O’Toole was now eager to help, and accompanied him to the Liffey, which he forded unperceived just above Dublin. His guide spoke English, and led him through Meath to the neighbourhood of Drogheda. Avoiding the town, they diverged to Mellifont, which belonged to Sir Edward Moore, and here they were lodged and helped on their way. After resting until the evening of next day, they rode all night, and passed through Dundalk as soon as the gates were opened in the morning. The danger was now over, and Tirlogh MacHenry O’Neill, whose power lay in the south part of Armagh, forwarded them safely to Dungannon, whence Tyrone sent Hugh O’Donnell, under escort, to Lough Erne. Here he was met by Maguire, and brought in triumph to Ballyshannon. Henry MacShane O’Neill did not go to Glenmalure at all, but escaped northwards from the Dublin mountains, among which his brother had died, and thus fell into Tyrone’s hands. The Earl kept him long in captivity, and it is probable that in helping his son-in-law to escape, he also intended to prevent the Government from setting up the MacShanes against him.[214]

O’Donnell, Maguire,

and Tyrone.

Hugh Maguire said that he had given Fitzwilliam 300 cows to free his country from a sheriff, but that one had nevertheless been appointed, in the person of Captain Willis. This officer did not confine his attention to Fermanagh, and much of Tyrconnell was actually in his power. This company, who bore a very bad character in the country, were quartered in the monastery of Donegal, from which they expelled the friars, and Hugh Roe’s first care was to get rid of the intruders. The O’Donnells mustered in large numbers, and Willis and his men were glad to escape with their lives into Connaught. The friars then returned to their house. During March and April Hugh was in the hands of the doctors, who are said to have amputated both his great toes; but in May his father made way for him, and he was installed as O’Donnell with the usual ceremonies. Two expeditions against Tirlogh Luineach followed, and all the country about Strabane was laid waste. Nor was Tyrone quite idle, for he allowed his son Con to attack MacKenna, the chief of Trough, who had profited by Fitzwilliam’s settlement of the MacMahons’ country. The opportunity taken was while MacKenna was attending the sessions at Monaghan, and the commissioners were forced to adjourn. It suited neither O’Neills nor O’Donnells to have sheriffs and gibbets so near them.[215]

Tyrone induces O’Donnell to submit, 1592.

Fitzwilliam proceeded to Dundalk, intent upon making Tyrone give up the offenders, so that they might be hanged at Monaghan, but the outrage turned out to be much less grave than was reported. Anxious to gain a good character, which might be of use to him in arranging his law suits with Tirlogh Luineach, Tyrone went to Donegal, and brought Hugh Roe O’Donnell with him into the Lord Deputy’s presence. Hugh made public submission in the church at Dundalk, swearing to be loyal like his father, and to expel strangers from his country. The result was that all opposition to him ceased in Tyrconnell, since no pretender could hope to cope with a chief who enjoyed the help of the Government.[216]

Sir John Perrott is accused.

His enemies.

It has been often said that Sir John Perrott was driven out of Ireland by intrigue, but the fact is that he had long clamoured for his own recall. In England he enjoyed considerable influence, sat as a Privy Councillor, and remained in communication with several men of position in Ireland. But he made enemies everywhere, and it is supposed that the real cause of his downfall was a quarrel with the Chancellor, whom he openly taunted with having danced himself on to the woolsack. ‘Sir John Perrott talked,’ says one biographer, ‘while Sir Christopher Hatton thought.’ He despised the usual and perhaps necessary arts of a courtier, and was too frequently absent from the centre of favour and intrigue. Burghley was certainly his friend, but, great as was the old minister’s power, he could not always prevail against combinations. In Dublin the official set were generally hostile to Perrott, and many had personal grudges against him. He himself attributed his misfortunes to Loftus, whom he had abused for not allowing St. Patrick’s Cathedral to be turned into a college, and Bishop Jones had also his grievances. Philip Williams, Perrott’s secretary, having been dismissed and imprisoned by him, offered to disclose matters affecting the Queen; and it was to the Archbishop of Dublin and Bishop of Meath that he applied for help. Sir Nicholas White, who in some degree represented the old English families of Ireland, as distinguished from the purely English and official element, was favourable to Perrott. His firmest ally was Richard Meredith, a Welshman, who had been his chaplain, and who held the deanery of St. Patrick’s and the bishopric of Leighlin together. Sir Richard Bingham, who had no cause to love Perrott, does not seem to have borne malice; but Fitzwilliam evidently leaned to the side of his accusers. The late Deputy’s language was not only violent, but had that unfortunate quality of picturesqueness which made people remember it. Thus Loftus could tell Burghley, with the certainty of getting corroborative evidence, how his enemy had boasted that he would send the Council out of Dublin Castle on cabbage-stalks, and how he had threatened to pull the Archbishop into small pieces, like grass between his fingers. Such speeches were not treasonable, but they show why so many men were anxious to prove that Sir John Perrott was a traitor.[217]