CHAPTER IX
How O’Neill Baffled Essex—O’Donnell’s Victory of the Curlew Mountains
THE limits of this simple narrative of Irish history will not permit us to go into the details of the numerous “risings” of the Irish and encounters with the disheartened English in the other three provinces. O’Donnell swept through Connaught, like a very besom of destruction, drove the English generals into their castles, and other strong places, and carried Athenry by storm, “sword in hand.” He also made a raid into Munster, and punished a degenerate O’Brien of Inchiquin for accepting an English title, and hugging his English chain as “Earl of Thomond.” Then he returned to Connaught and finished up what English garrisons still remained there, with few exceptions. O’Neill himself also made a visit to Munster, said his prayers at the noble shrine of Holy Cross Abbey, on the winding Suir, and, the legitimate—according to English notions—Earl of Desmond being dead, set up an earl of his own. He “put heart into” the rather slow and cautious Catholic Anglo-Normans of this province, and caused them to join hands with their Celtic brothers in defence of country and creed. Under the new earl, they attacked the English with great spirit, and, although occasionally beaten, managed to hold the upper hand in most cases.
In Leinster, the O’Mores, the O’Byrnes, the O’Tuhills, and the Kavanaghs had also risen in arms, and never had Ireland presented so united a military front, since the first landing of the English on her shore. There was fighting everywhere, but, outside of O’Neill and O’Donnell, and, perhaps, the new Desmond, there would not seem to have been a concerted military plan—probably owing to the rather long distances between the respective bodies and the difficulty of communication.
Queen Elizabeth, when she heard of the Irish triumph at the Yellow Ford, was violently exasperated, and stormed against Ormond, her Lord Lieutenant, for remaining in Leinster, skirmishing with the O’Mores and other secondary forces, and leaving everything in the hands of O’Neill in Ulster. She was now an aged woman, but still vain and thirsty for admiration. Her reigning favorite was the brilliant Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, who had made a reputation in the Spanish wars. In the middle of 1599, this favored warrior, accompanied by a picked force of at least 20,000 men, landed in Dublin and assumed chief command. Instead of at once moving with his fine army, reinforced by the Palesmen and the relics of Norreys’ and Bagnal’s troops, against O’Neill, he imitated the dilatory tactics of Ormond and wasted away his strength in petty encounters with the hostile tribes of Leinster and the Anglo-Irish of Munster, most of whom sided, because of common religious belief, with their Celtic neighbors. He also committed the grave fault of bestowing high command on favorites who possessed no capacity for such duties. While marching to besiege Cahir Castle, in the present county of Tipperary, he was obliged to pass through a wooded defile in Leix (Queen’s County), where his rearguard of cavalry was attacked by the fierce O’Mores and cut to pieces. The Irish tore the white plumes from the helmets of the fallen English troopers, as trophies, and so great was their number that the gorge has been called, ever since that tragical day, Bearna-na-cleite—in English, the “Pass of Plumes.” Essex, notwithstanding this disaster, which he made no immediate effort to avenge, marched to Cahir and took the castle; but, in subsequent encounters with the Munster Irish, he suffered severe reverses. Near Croom, in Limerick, he was met by the Geraldines and their allies and badly defeated. Sir Thomas Norreys, Lord President of Munster—brother of the defeated English commander at Clontibret—was among the slain. Thus baffled, the haughty Essex made his way sadly back to Dublin, pursued for a whole week by the victorious Geraldines. Smarting under his disgrace, he caused the decimation of an English regiment that had fled from the O’Mores—something he himself had also been in the habit of doing. He had no heart to try conclusions with the terrible O’Neill in his Ulster fastnesses, and sent many letters of excuse to the queen, in which he dwelt on the strength and courage of the Irish clansmen in war, and asked for further reinforcements, before venturing against O’Neill. These were sent him, to the number of several thousand, and, at length, he seemed ready to move. Sir Conyers Clifford, a very brave and skilful officer, commanded for Elizabeth in Connaught. Essex ordered him to march into Ulster and seize certain strategic points that would open the way for the main army when it should finally appear in the North. Clifford obeyed his orders with veteran promptitude. He was soon at Boyle, in the present county of Roscommon, where he went into camp near the beautiful abbey, whose ruins are still the admiration of antiquarians. Thence, he marched northward through the passes of the Corslibh, or Curlew, Mountains, bent upon penetrating into Ulster. But, in a heavily timbered ravine, he was fallen upon by the fierce clansmen of Red Hugh O’Donnell, commanded by their fiery chief in person. When the English heard the terrible war-cry of “O’Donnell Aboo!” “O’Donnell to Victory”) echoing along the pass, they knew their hour had come. However, they met their fate like brave men, worthy of their gallant commander, and fought desperately, although in vain. They were soon totally broken and fell in heaps under the stalwart blows of the Clan O’Donnell. General Clifford and his second in command, Sir Henry Ratcliffe, were killed, and their infantry, unable to stem the tide of battle, fled in disorder, carrying with them the cavalry, under General Jephson, a cool commander who displayed all the qualities of a good soldier although completely overmatched. Had he not gallantly covered the retreat, hardly a man of the English infantry would have reached Boyle in safety. But the valor of Jephson did not extend to all of his men, some of whom abandoned the field rather precipitately. The English historian, Moryson, excuses them on the ground that “their ammunition was all spent.” Sligo, the key of North Connaught, fell to O’Donnell, as one result of this sharp engagement.
The defeat and death of Clifford would seem to have utterly demoralized Essex. He again hesitated to advance against O’Neill, and, instead of doing so, weakly sought a parley with his able enemy. O’Neill agreed to the proposal, and they met near Dundalk, on the banks of a river and in presence of their chief officers. The Irish general, with chivalrous courtesy, spurred his charger half-way across the stream, but Essex remained on the opposite bank. This, however, did not prevent the two leaders from holding a protracted conversation, in the course of which the wily O’Neill completely outwitted the English peer. They called five officers on both sides into the conference, and O’Neill repeated the terms he offered after the victory of Clontibret, in 1595. The Englishman said he did not think them extravagant, but his sincerity was never tested. Soon afterward, angered by an epistolary outburst from the old queen, he threw up his command, and returned to the London court, where Elizabeth swore at him, ordered him under arrest, had him tried for treason, and, finally, beheaded—the only cruel act of her stormy life she ever repented of. The axe that severed the head of Essex from his body left a scar in Elizabeth’s withered heart that never healed.