CHAPTER II
Irish Military Exiles—Rory O’More Organizes a Great Insurrection
SINCE Sir Cahir O’Doherty fell on the rock of Doon, in 1608, no Irish chief or clan had risen against the English interest throughout the length and breadth of the island. The masses of the Irish people had, apparently, sunk into a condition of political torpor, but the fires of former generations still smouldered amid the ashes of vanquished hopes, and needed but a breath of inspiration to fan them into fierce, rebellious flame. Most of the ancient Celtic and many of the Anglo-Norman families of Catholic persuasion had military representatives in nearly all the camps of Europe. One Irish legion served in the army of Philip III of Spain, and was commanded successively by two of the sons of Hugh O’Neill, victor of the Yellow Ford—Henry and John. In it also served the hero’s gallant nephew, Owen Roe O’Neill, who rose to the rank of lieutenant-colonel and made a brilliant defence of Arras in France, besieged by Marshal de Meilleraye, in 1640. Of this able soldier we shall hear more in the future. The English Government never lost sight of those Irish exiles, and, about this time, one of its emissaries on the Continent reported that there were in the Spanish Netherlands alone “twenty Irish officers fit to be colonels and a hundred fit to be captains.” The same agent reported, further, that the Irish military throughout Europe had long been procuring arms for an attempt upon Ireland, and had 6,000 stand laid up in Antwerp for that design, and that these had been bought out of the deduction of their “monthly pay.” At the defence of Louvain against the French, the Irish legion, 1,000 strong, commanded by Colonel Preston, of a distinguished Anglo-Irish family, received honorable mention, and again at the capture of Breda. These are only a few of the stirring events abroad which raised the martial reputation of the Irish people in the eyes of all Europe, and the fame of those exploits, reaching Ireland by means of adventurous recruiting officers or courageous priests, who defied the penal laws and all their terrors, found a responsive echo in many a humble home, where the hope of one day throwing off the foreign yoke was fondly cherished. The exiled priesthood, many of whose members became prelates of high rank abroad, aided the sentiment of the military at the Catholic courts, and thus was prepared the way for the breaking out of the great insurrection of 1641, which, but for the foolish over-confidence of an Irish chief and the dastardly treason of an obscure drunkard, might have been gloriously successful.
The moving spirit in the new project was Roger, or Rory O’More, of the ancient family of Leix, who had been educated in Spain and was, virtually, brought up at the Spanish court, in company with the sons of Hugh O’Neill, of Tyrone. O’More would seem to have been a born organizer, and a man of consummate tact and discretion. It is a pity that but little is known of his early career, and, indeed, the precise time of his return to Ireland remains an unsettled question, but it is certain that he returned quietly there, and took up his residence, without parade, on his estate of Ballynagh in Leinster. He never appeared in Dublin, or any other populous centre, unless on some public occasion, that would be sure to attract the attendance of the principal men of the country. Thus, during the Parliamentary session of 1640, we are told by McGee and other Irish annalists, he took lodgings in Dublin, and succeeded in drawing into his plan for a general insurrection, Connor McGuire, MacMahon, Philip O’Reilly, Turlough O’Neill, and other prominent gentlemen of Ulster. He made a habit, also, of visiting the different towns in which courts of assize were being held, and there becoming acquainted with influential men, to whom, after due sounding, he outlined his plans for the final overthrow of the English government in Ireland, and the restoration to the Irish people of the lands and rights of which they had been robbed. On one of these tours, we are told, he made the acquaintance of Sir Phelim O’Neill, of Kinnaird, in Tyrone—head of the branch of that great family still tolerated by the ascendency Sir Connor MCGennis of Down, Colonel Hugh MacMahon of Monaghan, and the Right Rev. Heber MacMahon, Administrator of Clogher, by connivance or toleration, for, during the penal laws, there was no “legal” recognition of a Catholic prelacy, although, under Charles I, especially about this period, there was no very rigid enforcement of the Act of Uniformity, probably because the king and government had enough trouble on their hands in vainly trying to force Protestant episcopacy on the Scotch covenanters.
O’More did not confine his operations exclusively to Ulster. He also made a tour of Connaught, with his usual success; for he was a man of fine person, handsome countenance, and courtly manners. Tradition still preserves his memory green among the Irish people of all classes. He was equally courteous to the lord and to the peasant. In the castles and mansions of the aristocracy he was ever the favored guest, and he charmed all his entertainers with the brilliancy of his conversational powers and the versatility of his knowledge. Among the poor, he was looked upon as “some glorious guardian angel,” who had come as a messenger from the God of Freedom to rid them of their galling chains. It is a singular fact that, although he must have taken thousands, high and low, into his confidence, not a man seems to have betrayed him to the Castle Government, which remained in profound ignorance of his plot until the very eve of insurrection. Robert Emmet, in after times, practiced the methods of O’More, but with far less wisdom, although influenced by the same lofty principles of patriotism.
The records of the times in which he lived do not show that O’More went extensively into Munster, but he did excellent missionary work among the Anglo-Catholic nobles of his own native province of Leinster. He found them, as a majority, very lukewarm toward his project, influenced, no doubt, by fears of the consequences to themselves should the contemplated revolution prove abortive. Although not a trained soldier, O’More had keen military foresight. The army raised by Strafford in Ireland was mainly made up of Catholics—for he does not seem to have discriminated very much in the matter of creed—and these troops were, in consequence, regarded with distrust, and even intense hatred, by the people of England, to whom the very name of Catholic was, in those days, odious. The vacillating king, influenced by the prejudices of his English subjects, resolved to get rid of his Irish army, and gave such of the regiments as might so elect permission to enter the service of Spain. Some did volunteer, but O’More prevailed on many of the officers to keep their battalions together, and thus secured the nucleus of a well-trained military force at the very outset of hostilities. Among the influential Irish officers who acted on O’More’s suggestion were Colonel Plunket, Colonel Sir James Dillon, Colonel Byrne, and Captain Fox. These, with O’More, constituted the first Directory of the Irish Confederates of Leinster. Meanwhile active communication was kept up with their friends on the Continent, and emissaries were coming and going all the time between the two organizations. The head of the movement abroad appears to have been John O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, who, however, died suddenly—some writers aver by the hand of a poisoner—early in 1641; and the military exiles immediately transferred their allegiance to his cousin, Colonel Owen Roe O’Neill, with whom we have already made acquaintance. It was agreed among the allies that the uprising for Irish liberty should occur about the 1st of November, and October 23, 1641, was finally decided upon as the fateful day. The date was made known to only the most trusted chiefs of the projected insurrection.
Everything appeared to prosper with the plans of the patriots until the actual eve of the rising. On that night (October 22), as fate would have it, there dined with Colonel Hugh MacMahon—to whom was intrusted the command of 200 picked men who were to surprise the Castle—several Irish officers concerned in the conspiracy. Among the guests was one Owen O’Connolly, an unworthy creature for whom MacMahon would appear to have entertained an unaccountable friendship. According to tradition, O’Connolly remained with Colonel MacMahon after the other guests had gone to their several abodes, and, in a moment of inexcusable weakness, the unhappy host, who must have been rendered reckless by wine, confided to his traitor-guest the secret so momentous to Ireland. O’Connolly was more than half intoxicated, but, unknown to MacMahon, he was in the service of a strong government supporter, named Sir John Clotworthy, and the danger which menaced his patron made the fellow sober enough to outwit his foolish informant. In order to divert suspicion, he pretended, after a time, that he wished to retire, and left his sword in MacMahon’s room. He managed to reach the rear door of the lodgings, and made his way over all kinds of obstacles, in the dark, to the castle, where, after much trouble, he succeeded in getting audience of Sir William Parsons, to whom he related what Colonel MacMahon had revealed to him. Parsons, observing that O’Connolly was still under the influence of strong drink, at first refused to believe him; and was on the point of turning him out of doors, when something in the rascal’s earnestness made him pause and consider. As a result of his musing, he sent for his colleague, Sir John Borlaise, Master of the Ordnance; the latter immediately advised the summoning of the council. Several members of that body soon appeared, and the deposition of the informer was formally taken. A squad of soldiers surrounded MacMahon’s lodgings and captured him. Lord McGuire was also taken, but Colonels Plunket and O’Byrne, Rory O’Moore, and Captain Fox, who were also in the city, succeeded in making good their escape. MacMahon, on being arraigned before the Privy Council in the Castle, at daylight on the memorable 23d, defiantly acknowledged his share in the plot, and declared that it was then too late for the power of man to prevent the revolution. He showed great courage, as did also his colleague, Lord McGuire, but MacMahon’s bravery could have been much better spared than his discretion, the want of which sent himself and his companion in misfortune to the scaffold, and, undoubtedly, lost to Ireland the best chance she had ever had of severing the connection with Great Britain. This unhappy result teaches a harsh, but useful, political lesson: Never to confide a secret that concerns a great cause to a dubious “hanger-on,” and to avoid the cup that inebriates when one is the possessor of such a secret, or whether one is or not. O’Connolly’s treachery was rewarded by a grant of lands from “the crown,” and he was afterward a colonel in Cromwell’s army. His ultimate fate is involved in obscurity. But his name is embalmed in the annals of enduring infamy.
The Lords Justices of England, in Dublin, once made aware of the situation, lost no time in putting the Castle and city at large in a posture of defence. The guards were doubled and reinforcements were summoned, by special messengers, from neighboring garrisons. Two tried soldiers were invested with the military power—Sir John Willoughby, who had been Governor of Galway, assumed command of the Castle; and Sir Charles Coote—one of the blackest names in Irish annals—was made military governor of the city. The Earl of Ormond—afterward Duke—was summoned from Carrick-on-Suir to assume chief command of the royal army. Thus, the Irish capital was again preserved, through folly and treason, to the English interest.
MacMahon made no vain boast before the Privy Council, when he declared that the rising was beyond the power of man to prevent. Ulster did its full duty, and, on the morning of October 23, the forts of Mountjoy and Charlemont and the town and castle of Dungannon were in the hands of Sir Phelim O’Neill or his chief officers. Sir Connor MacGennis captured Newry; the MacMahons took Carrickmacross and Castleblaney, the O’Hanlon’s, Tandragee, while O’Reilly and McGuire—a relative of the lord of that name—“raised” Cavan and Femanagh. (McGee.) Rory O’More supplemented a brief address of the northern chiefs, wherein they declared they bore no hostility to the king, or to his English or Scotch subjects, “but only for the defence and liberty of themselves and the native Irish of the kingdom,” with one more elaborate, in which he ably showed that a common danger threatened the Protestants of the Episcopal Church with Roman Catholics. In all the manifestos of the time, there was entirely too much profession of “loyalty” to a king who was constitutionally incapacitated for keeping faith with any body of men whatsoever. Never was the adage that “Politics makes strange bedfellows” more forcibly illustrated than during this period of Irish history. The manliest of all the declarations issued was that of Sir Connor MacGennis, from “Newry’s captured towers.” “We are in arms,” wrote he, “for our lives and liberties. We desire no blood to be shed, but if you (the English and their allies) mean to shed our blood, be sure we shall be as ready as you for that purpose.”