Ireland under the Tudors, with a Succinct Account of the Earlier History. Vol. 2 (of 3)

by Richard Bagwell

FOOTNOTES:

[208] Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Aug. 19, Sept. 8, Nov. 25, 1571; to the Queen, Sept. 6. His patent as Lord Deputy bears date Dec. 11.

[209] Perrott to Fitzwilliam, Aug. 14, 20, and 22; to Ormonde at p. 64 of his Life, no date, but about this time.

[210] Corporation of Kinsale to the Privy Council, Aug. 10; Corporation of Youghal to the Queen, Sept. 6; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Nov. 25; Perrott to Fitzwilliam, Dec. 4. This last letter has a note by Fitzwilliam, in which he says Sir John of Desmond would be as well in England as in Munster, ‘in spite of his wit and soberness.’

[211] Perrott’s Life, pp. 61-63. Perrott to Ormonde, Nov. 18, 1571.

[212] Knocklong was the appointed place, and Perrott kept his tryst; but, ‘God be praised,’ said Fitzwilliam, ‘the rebel chief did not appear.’

[213] Perrott’s Life. Ormonde to Fitzwilliam, Nov. 20; Fitzwilliam to the Privy Council, Feb. 27, 1572.

[214] Sir T. Smith to Burghley, April 10, 1572. The pamphlet is printed in the appendix to Hill’s MacDonnells of Antrim.

[215] Piers to Fitzwilliam, Jan. 3, 1572, with notes by the Lord Deputy; same to same, Feb. 8; Morrin’s Patent Rolls, i. 427.

[216] Fitzwilliam to Burghley, March 14; to the Queen, June 27; to the Privy Council, June 28; Sir Brian MacPhelim O’Neill to Fitzwilliam, March 6; to the Queen and Privy Council, March 27; Thomas Smith, Junior, to Sir Brian MacPhelim, May 20. There is a tolerable account of this business in chap. xiv. of Strype’s Life of Smith.

[217] Fitzwilliam to Burghley, March 24, April 15, May 5; to Leicester, March 16; Leicester to Fitzwilliam, March 8.

[218] Notes of such as are appointed to be discharged, May 8; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, April 15 and May 21; to the Queen and Privy Council, Feb. 27; Morrin’s Patent Rolls, ii. 64. The fight in which Captain Cheston was wounded took place before Feb. 14.

[219] Burgon’s Life of Sir Thomas Gresham, chaps. vi. and vii.

[220] Fitton to Burghley, Jan. 31, with enclosures, March 31; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, April 21; Lord Deputy and Council to the Privy Council, May 15.

[221] Earl of Clanricarde’s Declaration, March 8, 1578; Fitton to Burghley, January 31, 1572; with enclosures, March 31; Lord Deputy and Council to the Privy Council, May 15; to the Privy Council and Fitzwilliam to Burghley, April 21, May 24; to the Queen, &c., July 25; to Burghley, Aug. 4. Order by Lord Deputy and Council, July 22.

[222] Fitton to Leicester, May 18, in Carew; to Fitzwilliam, June 16.

[223] Four Masters, 1572. Fitton to Fitzwilliam, July 16; John Crofton to Fitzwilliam, same date; Bishop of Meath to Fitzwilliam, July 17; Fitzwilliam to the Queen, July 24.

[224] Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Sept. 25, 1572; to the Queen, Feb. 18, 1573; Clanricarde to Fitzwilliam, Nov. 2, 1572; to Burghley, Dec. 15. Earl of Clanricarde’s sons to Fitzwilliam, Nov. 9; Edward Brereton to Fitton, Feb. 9, 1573.

[225] Perrott to Fitzwilliam, May 11, 1572; Ormonde to Fitzwilliam, Feb. 5, 1572, enclosing one from Edward Butler; Mayor of Youghal to Lord —, March 21: John Danyell to Fitzwilliam, Feb. 26.

[226] Perrott to the Privy Council, Sept. 1; to Fitzwilliam, Sept. 12 and 16; to Burghley, Nov. 2; Fitzwilliam to Privy Council, Sept. 25; to Ormonde, Oct. 21; Edward Butler to Sir Edmund Butler, Oct. 19; Sir Edmund Butler to Richard Shee, Oct. 20; Bishop of Limerick to Perrott, Aug. 31; Mayor and Recorder of Limerick to Perrott, Sept. 1.

[227] Sir E. Butler to R. Shee, Nov.; Lord Deputy and Council to the Queen, Dec. 1.

[228] Perrott’s Life, pp. 67, sqq.

[229] Fitzwilliam to Burghley, May 24, 1571; to the Privy Council, April 15, 1572; Dominic Brown to Fitton, April 9, 1571. Examination of Walter French, March 30; and report of John Crofton, April 13, 1571. Memorandum concerning Ireland, 1571 (No. 44). Memorandum concerning Stukeley, March 5, 1572. Stukeley went to Rome early in the spring of 1571, and returned to Spain in November. See also Froude, x. 479, note.

[230] Edward White (Clanricarde’s clerk) to Fitzwilliam, Nov. 1572. On Nov. 29, Fitzwilliam answered that he was glad the Earl had such a jewel as White about him.

[231] N. White to Burghley, July 17, 1573; Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Oct. 6, 1572; to the Queen, Dec. 7, 1572, and Feb. 18, 1573; Henry Cowley to Burghley, March 12, 1572; Kildare and Ormonde to Burghley, Aug. 14, 1572.

[232] Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Aug. 26, 1572; Notes of Journey, May 1572; Examinations, &c., Aug. 21, 1572; License to Hartpole and others, Sept. 24, 1573. Hartpole was concerned in the Mullaghmast massacre.

[233] Fitzwilliam to the Queen, July 24, Aug. 3, Sept. 25, 1572; to the Privy Council, Aug. 4; to Burghley, Sept. 25 and Oct. 21; the Queen to the Lord Deputy, Aug. 5.

CHAPTER XXX.
1572 and 1573.

The Ulster colonisation project.

The absence of Sir Thomas Smith in France and the lukewarm attitude of the Lord Deputy delayed the Northern enterprise for some time, and when young Smith at last landed, the 800 of which the Queen spoke had dwindled to 100. He sailed from Liverpool on Friday, the sailors’ unlucky day, and reached Lough Strangford on the morrow. He sent to Sir Brian MacPhelim to say that he had no designs except on the spiritual lands—no designs ‘as yet’ he explained in writing to Burghley—but the chief would not see him, and roundly refused to part with one foot of ground. The adventurer hastened to the Lord Deputy, not to offer aid but to beg for it; but Fitzwilliam, who had not been consulted, gave him little comfort, telling the Queen that a singular ignorance had been shown of the jealous Irish nature, and that the chance of success had been immeasurably lessened by sounding the trumpet so loudly beforehand. Others besides Smith talked loosely of all they were going to do in Ulster; one Chatterton boasting that he had a grant of O’Hanlon’s country. Fitzwilliam bade him hold his foolish tongue; but he only talked the louder, and sent his brother to Newry to spread the mischief further, and to have eight or nine bullocks ostentatiously salted. ‘To have rumours spread,’ said the Deputy bitterly, ‘and a few beeves salted to mad men with, and to have no men come to tame madmen with, I must think, or at least doubt, to be some practice to disturb quiet government.’ Tirlogh Luineach O’Neill wrote in a covertly threatening tone to Fitzwilliam, professing not to believe that Smith had really her Majesty’s authority to take his namesake’s country, and advising him to let Sir Brian and Sorley Boy alone. Sir Brian emphasised this advice by invading the Ards, killing Henry Savage, burning the villages, and driving off all the cattle except what could be hurriedly conveyed across the Lough into Lecale. Fitzwilliam could only tell Sir Thomas Smith that he was sorry for his son’s evil prospects, but that soldiers were very scarce, and that, though his goodwill was great, in material resources he ‘had not enough to set out the main chance.’[234]

Collapse of Smith’s enterprise.

Sir Thomas Smith perhaps hardly expected to get nothing but criticisms from the Lord Deputy. The reports complained of had been spread against his will, and he had no intention towards the Irish but to make them labour virtuously, ‘and to leave robbing and stealing and killing one another.’ He suggested that, as his son could evidently effect nothing for the present, Fitzwilliam should employ him in the Queen’s pay to defend the northern frontier of the Pale. As Fitzwilliam could not pay even the few men he had, this was hardly a practical suggestion. The O’Neills played fast and loose with the unfortunate young man. Sometimes a minor chief would make friendly advances, and then, having seen the nakedness of the land, would run off again, while Tirlogh Luineach and Sir Brian MacPhelim evidently understood each other. It was only just possible to defend Carrickfergus with the help of Captain Maltby, whose company had narrowly escaped discharge, and who generally lay in Lecale. From behind the walls of the fortress Smith railed continually at the Lord Deputy, whose gloomy vaticinations had all been fulfilled. In writing to the Queen and to Smith’s father, Fitzwilliam merely lamented that his power to help him was not equal to his will, but he told Burghley that he thought it very hard that his credit at Court should be undermined by the interest of a vain young man. Maintenance and not stomach was what the adventurer required, and he wished Burghley could see the letters he wrote to the Council. His impudent humour needed rather to be purged than fed. Maltby, a man of ability and discretion, fell to some extent under the influence of his sanguine comrade, and the two persuaded Fitzwilliam to give them command of the garrison at Newry, by way of operating against Sir Brian MacPhelim. They prophesied great things, but did nothing; and Fitzwilliam, who had yielded to their importunity for fear of Court slanders, cynically observed that he never supposed they would do anything. Sir Brian, on the contrary, burned Carrickfergus, and 100 men had to be sent in haste from Newry to protect the pier, the store-house, and what little remained of the town. The enterprise of the Smiths, from which so much had been expected and which had been so much advertised, had utterly collapsed in less than a year.[235]

Fitzmaurice submits. Perrott thinks he will be a second St. Paul.

After his last overthrow by Sir Edmund Butler, Fitzmaurice no longer attempted to make head, but sued for pardon and leave to serve her Majesty in some other country, offering at the same time to disclose the chief instigators of his revolt. He had still eighty kerne with him, and found no difficulty in feeding his men either in Aherlow or in the wild district between Macroom and Glengariffe. Perrott, who wished to hunt out rather than pardon him, watched the ports so carefully as to frustrate many attempts at evasion. At least one important emissary fell into the Lord President’s hands in the person of Edmond O’Donnell, a Jesuit, who brought letters from Gregory XIII. to Fitzmaurice, and who was afterwards hanged, drawn, and quartered at Cork. The pursuit of the arch-rebel himself failed for want of provisions. The President was very much against the established system of governing ‘by intreaty,’ and his object was to make people fear him, ‘so that they be not kept in servile fear.’ The Queen sent letters of thanks to Lords Clancare, Barrymore, Fermoy, and Lixnaw, to Sir Thomas of Desmond, and to Sir Donough and Sir Cormac MacTeige MacCarthy; and in the end, fearing lest he should escape to Spain, Perrott thought it desirable to accept the submission of Fitzmaurice. He appeared accordingly at Kilmallock, the town which had suffered so much and so lately at his hands, accompanied by the seneschal of Imokilly and other chief rebels. The suppliants knelt on both knees, or, according to one account, even lay prostrate, and the President held the point of his naked sword at Fitzmaurice’s breast. ‘Holding their hands joined and cast upwards, and with countenances bewraying their great sorrow and fervent repentance for their former life,’ they confessed their sins in Irish. Fitzmaurice repeated the confession in English, owning himself the rankest traitor alive, and vowing to use his sword for ever after only in her Majesty’s service. As if to throw a shade of ridicule upon the whole thing, Fitzmaurice absurdly declared that he was allured by Clancare and Sir Edmund Butler. But Perrott was forced to be content, and had similar ceremonies performed in other towns, the inferior traitors wearing halters round their necks. Fitzmaurice gave up one of his sons as a hostage, but it was arranged that he himself should be set at liberty in case the Queen refused to accept his submission. She was glad to find an excuse for saving money in Munster, or anywhere else; and Perrott, with the strange inconsistency he sometimes showed, soon persuaded himself that Fitzmaurice had really seen the error of his ways, and would prove ‘a second St. Paul.’[236]

Desmond and his brother in the Tower, and harshly treated, 1568.

The Presidency had proved expensive, but Perrott could report that no armed bands were abroad, and that every corner of the province was safe for unarmed travellers. Gilbert had done nearly as much before, but it was clear that no permanent good could be done without sustained expenditure. The experiment of ruling the Southern Geraldines without the Earl of Desmond was accordingly abandoned for the time; and, in spite of the warnings of Perrott and Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth may really have thought that years of exile had tamed the Earl’s unruly spirit. He had indeed endured many humiliations. Arriving in London with his brother Sir John, about Christmas 1567, he was allowed to frequent the Court, in great want of money, but under no personal restraint. The brothers made humble submissions, surrendering their lands to the Queen and begging for the establishment of a President and Council in Munster; and the Earl gave a bond in 20,000l. to observe the articles to which he was bound. But his rash talk, and perhaps the letters which he was known to write, gave offence, and both he and Sir John were sent close prisoners to the Tower, where they were fain to beg 100l. for necessaries, including clothes and shoes. They suffered from cold, and Sir John, who became seriously ill, had not wherewithal to pay the doctor and apothecary: anything that they did cost was paid for by the Queen, nothing whatever being remitted from the Irish estates.[237]

The Desmonds in London till 1573.

Lady Desmond wrote to say Fitzmaurice had so wasted the country that she could not get as much as would pay her travelling charges. ‘I pray God,’ she concluded, ‘send us joyful meeting or me short departure out of this world. If you make any provision for me, I beseech you let the same be in readiness in Bristol against my coming, and upon information thereof I will in all haste repair towards you. Your loving, miserable wife,

‘Eleanor Desmond.’

Soon after this she joined her husband, and remained with him during the rest of his two years’ confinement in the Tower. After that they were all handed over to the keeping of Sir Warham St. Leger, who hated Ormonde, and might therefore be supposed a kind gaoler to his enemy. Sir Warham complained bitterly of the expense and trouble to which he was put; for, besides the Earl and Countess and Sir John, there were thirteen or fourteen servants, and they had not the price of a pair of shoes between them. Shut up in St. Leger’s small house in Southwark, they all suffered in health and ran up a long bill for medicine.

Birth of Desmond’s son.

It was about this time that Lady Desmond gave birth to the unfortunate child whose dismal fate it was to know himself the last and weakest of his race, and to die young without ever having known youth. Sir Warham grew heartily tired of his guests, his kindness to whom brought suspicion on himself. He even asked to be imprisoned to save him from further danger. The restraints of the Desmonds were gradually relaxed, though St. Leger remained their custodian, and by the beginning of 1572 there was already much talk of sending them back to Ireland, Perrott being willing enough to receive Sir John, but preferring that the Earl and Countess should have a year of the Tower, since they had been using their liberty to write letters encouraging Fitzmaurice to persevere in his rebellion.[238]

Desmond tries to escape. Martin Frobisher.

That Desmond should try to escape from England was but natural, and his choosing the time of the Paris massacre for an attempt probably shows that some deeper plotters than he were trying to make him a pawn in their game. There were many Irishmen about London, some of whom were known and others suspected as the bringers of treasonable letters, and Burghley had his counterplot ready. The famous sea-captain Martin Frobisher, as loyal a subject as any Queen Elizabeth had, was probably directed to put himself in the Earl’s way. Ormonde, who came to London about this time, dined with Desmond and said he would try to get him despatched for Ireland; and it may be conjectured, though not very charitably, that this was meant to lull him into a false security. Desmond was afraid to see Frobisher, who, however, contrived to let him know that he was willing to be bought, and that a ship of 100 tons and the island of Valentia might be a suitable price. Desmond was a bad horseman, unable indeed to mount without help, probably through the wound received at Affane, and was, moreover, afraid to ride into Kent lest he should meet Sir Warham’s men. He preferred an oyster boat which would pass the Queen’s ships at Gravesend without being searched, and Frobisher promised to help him to such a craft. So well was the farce acted that one of Burghley’s spies took credit for discovering the plot months after Frobisher had disclosed all; the captain’s wife having been employed to lay a false scent and to implicate not only her husband but St. Leger, Jerome Brett, and others who were supposed to be seeking revenge for their failure in obtaining a grant of the Desmond territories in Munster. 20l. in money or land was to be Frobisher’s own reward for taking the whole party over to Stukeley and for invading Ireland from Spain. Mrs. Frobisher, if she had any sense of humour, must have been amused at the great secrecy enjoined upon her by the spy whom she was hoodwinking. It is not unlikely that Burghley or some underling of his was trying to get evidence of treasonable designs, but if so the plan was changed, and, instead of sending Desmond to the Tower or to Tower Hill, it was resolved to let him go back to Ireland. He begged that Ormonde might be sent with him, ostensibly because his arrival in Munster would be certain to drive the rebels out of his own country into Tipperary; really, perhaps, because he was afraid to leave the field clear for his rival at Court.[239]

Desmond restored.

After much writing and talking the terms of Desmond’s return were at last settled. He accepted the Anglican religious establishment in the fullest manner, renouncing foreign jurisdictions and promising to assist all bishops, ministers, and preachers. He undertook to keep the Queen’s peace generally, and in particular not to molest Lords Fitzmaurice of Kerry, Barrymore, Courcy, and Decies, or any of the MacCarthies, O’Sullivans, and O’Callaghans; and all dues properly chargeable to them were to be levied only by legal process. The Earl bound himself to put down Fitzmaurice’s rebellion as soon as possible, to apprehend those who had fled to foreign countries, and to leave such castles in the Queen’s hands as she might think necessary for the public interest. In general he was to hold the same position as Kildare or Ormonde, and he agreed not to exercise the palatinate jurisdiction which he claimed in Kerry until that claim should have been legally determined in his favour. He further promised to pay the debts he had incurred in England as soon as money could possibly be scraped together.[240]

Elizabeth gives advice to Desmond and his brother.

The Queen granted the brothers an interview before their departure, professed herself satisfied with the Earl’s plain speech and good intentions, ‘and to Sir John she gave a privy nip, that as he hath a good wit, so he should hereafter use it well. He, like one not unwise nor unexpert, craved pardon, if anything heretofore were amiss, all should be amended.’ Burghley lectured Sir John again, at greater length no doubt, and after a further delay of some weeks, caused probably by the Queen’s dislike to do anything in Burghley’s absence, the restored exiles were forwarded to Ireland in charge of Fitton, who had been appointed Vice-Treasurer, and the settlement of whose quarrel with Clanricarde was referred to the friendly offices of the Lord Deputy and Council. Fitzwilliam had directions to do nothing without consulting Perrott, and Perrott had been much averse to Desmond’s return. Rejoicing in his freedom, Desmond slipped through Wales, and Fitton heard nothing of him till he reached Beaumaris. Perhaps the released prisoner expected what actually happened, and had some half-formed plan of sailing before the Vice-Treasurer and reaching Munster without running the gauntlet of the Dublin politicians. Sir Thomas Smith had indeed given the sound advice that, ‘seeing her Majesty doth mind to tie the Earl to her service with a benefit, it should be ample, liberaliter et prolixe done, not maligne et parce, which doth so disgrace it, that for love many a time it leaveth a grudge beyond in the heart of him which should receive it that mars the whole benefit.’ But other counsels prevailed, and Desmond was detained for many months in Dublin—a proceeding by no means calculated to cause a lively sense of benefits conferred.[241]

Walter, Earl of Essex.

Having desperately resolved to pacify Munster by sending Desmond home, the Queen made haste to create disturbance in Ulster by licensing private conquest on a large scale. Smith had evidently failed, but she persuaded herself that another might succeed if only he were adequately supported. It was an age when nothing seemed impossible to the brave, and all men’s minds ran upon vague schemes of conquest, beyond unfathomed seas and over unmeasured lands.

His antecedents.

A Raleigh and a Stukeley differed widely in moral and intellectual stature, but they were not without such a generic likeness as a horse bears to a donkey, or a lion to a cat. A vulgar projector like Chatterton and a rash speculator like young Smith could do much harm and could hardly do any good; but one of the most romantic and chivalrous of English nobles was now about to risk his all upon the fatal shore where Randolph had lost his life and Sussex had endangered his reputation. Walter Devereux, Viscount Hereford, having married Lettice, daughter of Sir F. Knollys, was first employed to prevent Mary Stuart’s escape from Tutbury, but found a better opportunity of distinction in Northumberland’s insurrection. He raised a troop of horse, and acted as marshal of the royal army. Few or none of the old nobility had shown so much zeal, and the Queen rewarded him with a garter and with the earldom of Essex, a title which had been borne by his ancestors. He now offered to show his gratitude by conquering a province for her Majesty at his own risk.

He proposes to colonise part of Ulster.

As a preliminary step he required a grant from the Crown in fee of the whole of what is now the county of Antrim, bounded by the sea from Belfast to Coleraine, and on the land side by the Bann and Lough Neagh, and including the island of Rathlin.

His demands.

The race of Hugh Boy O’Neill and the Scots claimants were not forgotten, but Essex asked for authority by martial law over the whole of them, as well as over his own followers. All fisheries, including those of the Bann and Lough Neagh, and all tithes and other spiritualities were to be comprised in the grant, and a commercial monopoly, free of customs for seven years, was to be secured to the settlers. Essex demanded the right to make galley-slaves of all Irish and Scots convicted—by martial law as it seems—of treason or felony, to make war and peace, and to enact local laws. He was to have all wardships and marriages, and the Dublin government was to have no power of imposing any cess or tax.

Grant to Essex.

After some haggling Essex received a grant of all Antrim except the lands belonging to the chartered townsmen of Carrickfergus, the town and castle, and 1,000 acres for their support. He was freed from all cesses for seven years, and none of his tenants were to be obliged to serve in war beyond the limits of his grant. The grantee had unlimited power of alienation to men of English birth, and authority for twelve years to make new subdivisions or to rename old ones. He had all manorial rights except pleas of the Crown, and the freedom of all markets in Ireland for himself and his tenants. Free trade was granted with all lands in amity with the Queen for seven years. The patentee had power to give leave of absence to English tenants for twelve years on the appointment of a substitute, and to admit 100 foreigners as denizens. The Queen agreed to furnish 200 horse and 400 foot, the Earl providing a like number; and each party was bound to keep those numbers up. Costs of fortification were to be divided in the same way. Among the few things not granted were gold and silver mines, and the right to coin money. The consideration offered for this enormous grant consisted of the services to be rendered and of property amounting to 800 marks, left him by the Earl of March’s will—a will of which the validity was disputed. Unpromising as this scheme must have appeared to many of those who knew Ireland best, it was advocated by Burghley, Sussex, and Leicester; and when failure threatened, Elizabeth accused them of having persuaded her against her better judgment. Sir Thomas Smith, in spite of his experience, was also in favour of the project.[242]

Great alarm in Ulster. Fitzwilliam disapproves the project.

In spite of Fitzwilliam’s efforts to keep it quiet, the intended expedition was talked of in Ireland almost as soon as in London. The Lord Deputy earnestly begged that action might follow quickly, since the interval would certainly be filled with lies and cavillings. One cause of delay was that Essex had no ready money. The Queen was, however, willing to lend 10,000l. as first mortgagee of his property in Bucks and Essex, worth 500l. a year. Nor was the bargain a bad one. In less than one year 1,000l. was to be repaid, and in default, land worth 50l. a year was to be forfeited. There was the same penalty for not paying a second 1,000l. within two years; and if the whole 10,000l. were not repaid within three years, then the entire property pledged was to fall to the Queen. A further cause of delay was Burghley’s desire for fuller information. Since the days of Henry VII. it had been the custom to send special commissioners in cases where the ordinary official reports were likely to be prejudiced or tainted, and Burghley now despatched Edmund Tremayne with instructions to investigate necessary matters and to return quickly, leaving to Fitzwilliam all that could not be done in a hurry. Tremayne, who knew Ireland well, was strongly impressed with the advantages of speed and secrecy, but he saw that much delay was unavoidable, and advised that the Earl should put forth rumours of the plan being indefinitely postponed. He was particularly anxious that the whole force should come together, lest the Irish might be tempted to cut off isolated bands. A servant of Essex who had brought letters to Maltby, Piers, and Smith, was sent back so as to give colour to the report of a postponement. But Lord Rich with 100 men, Sir Peter Carew and Sir Arthur Champernowne with forty each, and other gentlemen with smaller companies, could hardly make their arrangements secretly; nor could much promptitude be expected from such a heterogeneous body. For the Earl himself there had to be provided six pieces of artillery, much powder and match, trenching tools, 150 calivers, sixty muskets, 200 bows, and two surgeons at 16s. per month. ‘I understand,’ wrote Sir John Perrott, who had a Pembrokeshire quarrel with the noble adventurer, ‘that the Earl of Essex, with a great rout, intendeth the conquest of the North. For her Majesty’s service I wish him success, but for himself I care not what cometh thereof, for he and his friends have sought as much to discredit me in my absence as in them lay.’ Neither Perrott nor Fitzwilliam were in love with the chivalric interloper, but they do not appear to have thwarted him; indeed, the Queen specially thanked the former for his friendly tone. Her instinct probably told her that men who had borne the burden and heat of the day with but little reward would hardly be prejudiced in favour of this courtly amateur.[243]

Essex is sanguine.

Confident in Burghley’s support, Essex made light of opposition. The Lord Deputy he had ‘ever loved and liked well of,’ though the conversation of his friends at Court did not foreshadow his support. But the Queen was all smiles and promises, and advised the Earl ‘to have consideration of the Irish there, which she thought had become her disobedient subjects rather because they have not been defended from the force of the Scots, than for any other cause,’ and not to seek too hastily the conversion of a people who had been trained in another religion. He answered that he ‘would not willingly imbrue his hands with more blood than the necessity of the cause requireth,’ and that, when once the Irish had been brought to due obedience, ‘they would be easily brought to be of good religion.’ He was not destined to find either task particularly easy.[244]

Proposed division of Antrim.

Some of the land between Belfast Lough and Lough Neagh may have been destined as a reserve for the O’Neills. An extant paper shows how it was proposed to quarter the gentlemen adventurers, and what was kept for the Queen and the Earl:—

Glenarm, Will. Morgan of Pencoed; Red Bay, Lord Rich; Bunneygal(?), H. Knollys; Market-town (Ballycastle), several; Kenbane Castle, not appointed; Dunseverick, Mr. Champernowne; Dunluce, Mr. Kelway; Portrush, Mr. Fitton; Coleraine, the Queen; James MacHenry’s cranogue at Innisloughan, reserved to keep the ford of the Bann; Ballymoney, Mr. Bourchier; Brian Carragh’s cranogue on the Bann, reserved for the ford; Castle Toome, Geo. Carleton; Massereene, not assigned; Belfast, the Queen; the bottom beneath the cave having two little piles, Messrs. Barkley and Brunker; Carrickfergus, the Queen; Magee’s Island and the mouth across, the Queen; Olderfleet (Larne), the Queen.

As a matter of fact, Essex never had a house of his own in Ulster.

Essex sails, 1573. Gentlemen adventurers.

Having taken leave of Elizabeth on July 19, 1573, Essex sailed from Liverpool on August 16, accompanied by Lords Rich and Darcy, and with enough men and stores to fill several vessels. They were blown down Channel, some as far as Cork, but the Earl managed to land on one of the Copeland Islands, whence he made his way to Carrickfergus: here he was joined by Lord Rich, who, having got ashore at Kilcleif, near the mouth of Lough Strangford, travelled under Maltby’s escort by way of Belfast. Others were forced to the Isle of Man. A large part of the soldiers still lingered in England waiting for wine and other supplies; and Essex found himself powerless to effect anything considerable. But he put on a bold face, told Tirlogh Luineach that he was come to free the Irish from the tyranny of the Scots aliens, and that he might find grace by helping the work, but that otherwise he would waste him with fire and sword. The Earl advanced to the Bann without meeting an enemy, but the inherent disadvantage of making war by private contract soon became apparent. The Scots withdrew behind the river, and reminded Essex of the fact that he had no military authority outside the bounds of his grant.[245]

At first things look promising.

The adventurous Earl’s first impression was, however, favourable; for Sir Brian MacPhelim wrote to say that, though he had never seen him, he knew of the forces which accompanied him, and of those which were still to come. Sir Brian asked what terms he might expect if he returned to his allegiance; and Essex answered that he would make none, but that simple and immediate submission might give a first claim on her Majesty’s clemency. Sir Brian then sought an interview with Captain Piers, and, accompanied by that officer, came into Carrickfergus, ‘and in the most public part of the house did on his knees make his submission, alleging little for himself, but some unkindness towards Mr. Smith,’ and desiring oblivion and mercy in consideration of services to come. ‘When I had somewhat aggravated, to make her Majesty’s mercy the greater, I took him by hand, as a sign of his restitution to her Highness’s service; with promise to commend any desert of his hereafter.’ Sir Brian’s cattle were in the Route, the district between the Bush and the Bann, and as sole security for their owner’s performance Essex had them driven into the fields about Carrickfergus, where he supposed them to be in perfect safety. The chief talked pleasantly of his hostility to the Scots, and proposed to submit a plan for entrapping those who had sought to rebel in his company. The Irish generally professed great joy at the strict orders issued by the Earl against injuring them or taking their goods without full payment, and at being allowed not only to reap their own corn, but also what belonged to the Scots. On the whole, the natives appeared admirably disposed, and great praise was due to Captain Piers and Captain Maltby for their ability and diligence.[246]

But the O’Neills soon show their real sentiment.

So things went on, and for more than a fortnight all was merry as a marriage bell, while Sir Brian had ample opportunities of measuring the invader’s real weakness. Then someone hinted to Essex that cows were moveable property, and that he had better be on his guard. Piers was accordingly sent with 100 mounted men to drive the stock close together in the immediate neighbourhood of the castle, and he returned saying that all was fast, that at least 10,000 head were in sight, and that he had left trusty scouts who would find out what was going on, and give twelve hours’ notice of any intended mischief. The Earl said that he had his suspicions; but either this was an afterthought or Piers was the reverse of vigilant, for it was three o’clock next day before he found out that Sir Brian had withdrawn his horned hostages twelve or fourteen hours before, having bribed the scouts to say nothing about it. Five hundred Scots had landed at Lough Foyle, and Sir Brian hastened to join his forces to those of Tirlogh Luineach. Irish and Scots combined might hope to escape the common enemy. The Earl mounted at once, and spurred after Sir Brian for fourteen miles, when he was overtaken by night. The cattle reached the shelter of thick woods, and Essex returned to learn that many of the townsmen were in the plot. He imprisoned several, and regretted deeply that he had no power to execute them. In his rage and disappointment he professed to be glad that Sir Brian had thrown off the mask, ‘for now I have no occasion to trust the Irish, whereby I might have been more abused, than by open force I shall.... My first actions showed nothing but lenity, plainness, and an equal care of both nations; my next shall show more severity of justice abroad, and less trust at home.’ It needed but small experience of Irish life to turn a Quixote into something not very unlike a Pizarro; and Sir Peter Carew did not conceal his joy that the true nature of the natives was now manifest, and that the danger of their being overmuch trusted was at an end.[247]

Young Smith is killed.

The force collected at Carrickfergus consisted of 600 foot, 200 horse, 100 labourers, and 200 kerne. The adventurers were nominally 400 strong, but most of them were still in England; 200 soldiers raised in Somersetshire arrived armed with white sticks, though it was said that Captain Barkley had 400l. for an outfit. The Northern horse, under Captain Selby, complained that they were brought to a desert and that they could not live on their pay, and the foot grumbled at having to give fourpence sterling for rations. Provisions began to run short, and it became necessary to fight even for the free passage of cows out of Lecale. The escort sent to convoy them were attacked by Scots in the pass between Carrickfergus and Belfast, and after four hours’ skirmishing found the Laggan flooded and had to return. Had it not been for the intercession of Sussex, who remembered what he himself had endured in Ulster, it is probable that Essex would have had nothing but water and beef, and not too much of the latter; while the corn which he had at great expense provided was diverted by the Bristol traders to some more profitable use. Still, he was master in the field, though he sought in vain for anything like a general engagement. Once Sir Brian ventured into the neighbourhood with his herds, which had eaten up the grass in Northern Antrim, and Essex set upon them near Massereene with 300 or 400 horse. The Baron of Dungannon did good service, William Norris behaved with the utmost gallantry, and his brother John showed the qualities which afterwards made him famous. The result was a prey of 400 cows and the slaughter of some forty kerne and cowherds. ‘But if I had been well guided,’ said Essex, ‘or if my footmen had been come unto me, who were then three miles from me, I had taken 10,000 of his kine, and caught Brian and his company at a great disadvantage.’ Much virtue in If. He returned from this not very glorious foray to find that his precursor and ally, the unlucky Smith, had been slain that day ‘by the revolting of certain Irishmen of his own household, to whom he overmuch trusted, whereof one being retained by a rebel did kill him with a shot.’ The remnant of his men were unable to hold out at Comber, and sent to the Earl for help, but 200 of his kerne took the opportunity to mutiny, and he could do nothing. A few days later Essex reached Lough Strangford, only to find Comber in ashes. The friendly Savages had led Smith’s men into the peninsula of Ards. Sir Brian was fully avenged of the authors of those printed books which had filled him with such alarm. Smith’s patent remained in force during Elizabeth’s life, and gave some trouble, but nothing serious was ever attempted under it.[248]

Return of Desmond. He is detained in Dublin, 1573.

Fitton and Desmond arrived in Dublin on Lady Day, and the Earl was first detained until the arrival of the Lord President. Perrott had always been against his leaving England, and, being therefore in no hurry to reach Dublin, he proceeded leisurely to beat out the embers of rebellion before he should be practically superseded. The late insurgents professed much fear lest the Earl should mislike their yielding after standing out so long. The Lord President could, however, say that ways were safe, that towns were no longer straitly shut up, that Kilmallock was rebuilt, and that he had protected no rebel who had not first submitted. He had taken no provision at the Queen’s price, but had bought all in a high market, greatly to his own loss; for no horseman could really support himself and two horses, and keep his arms and armour in order for 6-3/4d. a day. There were complaints that he had interfered too much in Tipperary, although James Tobin, Ormonde’s sheriff, had contumeliously refused to execute his warrants for treason, a matter entirely outside the palatinate jurisdiction. Tipperary was in consequence the most disordered part of Munster. Forty-five malefactors were executed at Limerick, and Perrott proposed to do the like at Cashel and Clonmel; at the latter place confining himself to offences committed outside Ormonde’s jurisdiction. Nor was much lost by such forbearance, for, whatever may have been that Earl’s faults, he had not been remiss in the way of executions. Independently of what the Butlers had done, the Lord President could report that he had killed or hanged 800 persons with the loss of only eighteen Englishmen. The wonder is that between sword and halter there was any able-bodied man left in Munster.[249]

Perrott in Munster.

When Perrott had done his hanging he went to Dublin and reported that Desmond was devoid of reason, and that nothing could be done with him. The Earl, however, declared that the unreasonableness was in the Government, who demanded of him more than he had promised, and when he made fresh promises refused to accept them. His right to a palatinate jurisdiction in Kerry was held void by the lawyers; he was ready to exercise it only according to her Majesty’s pleasure, and without engrafting any Irish customs upon it, and he made no objection to the establishment of courts leet and courts baron. As to coyne and livery, he would forego them for six months, pending the decision of his cause. He was more willing than able to abolish them permanently, but was quite ready to agree to such a reasonable composition as impartial commissioners might agree upon. On the other hand, he demanded immediate restoration to his country, and all castles which he claimed either as owner or mortgagee, except Castlemartyr and Castlemaine, which were reserved to the Queen. This was all very well; but Desmond gave out generally that there would be no more Presidents after Christmas, and this was hardly the way to conciliate Perrott, who had a veto upon all Munster matters. Sir John Fitzgerald was more pliable or more politic than the Earl, and he risked little by loyal professions, for nothing that he did or said really committed the Geraldine connection. On promising to put down the Brehon law, to suffer no composition for felony, and to abstain from gathering rhymers and dicers about him, he was allowed to return into Munster, leaving his brother to endure ‘an easy restraint for a little time.’

His reforms.

There was probably some vain hope that Sir John would remit enough money to pay the debts incurred in England—a subject about which there was much correspondence, and which seems to have been thought nearly as important as the state of Munster. Perrott went to Cork, where the sessions were well attended and where he executed sixty more persons. This, though quite a matter of course, was recorded with satisfaction; but the Lord President took far greater pride in having forced the men to give up their glibbes and in having bullied or coaxed the gentlewomen into foregoing the great rolls which they wore on their heads. ‘By wading into this further danger,’ he said, ‘I am assured to have no wife in these parts, and for England when I re-embark I look there to have none. For all my gains here is for every white hair that I brought over with me sixty, and a thin purse, how great soever the report went of things that came to my hand by the Marseillyan ship.’[250]

Case of a Marseilles ship.

This vessel, the ‘Peter and Paul,’ belonging to Marseilles, but laden at Lisbon with a rich cargo of pepper, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, soap, salad oil, sugar, ‘grains,’ and cotton-wool, arrived at Youghal in November 1572. She had forty persons on board, chiefly Portuguese, but among them were an Englishman, a Neapolitan, and two French passengers. Fitzwilliam, upon some report of a general restraint of trade with Spain, which might include Portugal, sent a commission to Perrott to detain the ship and to sell the cargo. At Youghal it might have been impossible to protect her from Piper and Garratt, two of the many pirates who at this time infested British waters, and she was brought round to Cork, where the men were billeted on the aldermen and allowed the run of the city. Perrott petitioned for a grant of the cargo, but the owners, who were wholly or partly French, complained to the Queen. Proceedings followed in the Admiralty, and the goods were not sold; but the ship was found to be rotten, and had to be unladen. This was carefully done: every article was scrupulously accounted for, and the foreigners certified that nothing had been extorted from them by way of ransom. It is the fate of every active provincial governor to have many detractors among the stay-at-homes, and Perrott’s enemies raised a cry at Court accusing him of making away with the cargo. His defence was complete and perfectly satisfactory to the Government, but he continued to be troubled about it for some time, and the voluminous correspondence extant shows how great was the commotion excited.[251]

Carew is forbidden to press his claims in Munster.

As if Munster had not troubles enough, an attempt was made at this time to revive Sir Peter Carew’s shadowy claim to a principality there, and some of the projectors renewed their offers to colonise parts of the province. Fitzwilliam referred to Perrott, who reported strongly against Carew. The mere disclosure of his title, he said, would rouse a nest of hornets; and he protested against a private adventurer being allowed to break the peace which he had established with great labour and tribulation. Sidney had three soldiers to Fitzwilliam’s one, yet it had taxed his resources severely to still Carew’s first commotion. It would be cheaper for the Queen to buy him out than to let him meddle again. The people saw clearly that what affected one would affect all, and Sir Peter was obliged to promise not to stir further in the matter.[252]

Perrott opposes Desmond’s restoration.

The more Perrott saw of Desmond the less he liked him. He had grumbled at his return; had he known him better he would have cried aloud. He now besought the Queen to have him taken back to England, for he would never learn manners in Dublin, and could do nothing but harm in Munster. To Burghley Perrott wrote still more unrestrainedly that the Earl was fitter to keep Bedlam than to rule a newly reformed country. In Munster, wrote the President proudly, the plough already laughed the unbridled rogue to scorn, and daily improvement was visible. The poor prayed for the Queen. The clansmen had almost given up swearing by their lords’ hands. The 8,000 or 9,000 men capable of bearing arms honoured Elizabeth’s name, and their hands began to wax hard in labour as their feet once did in running to mischief. The revenue might soon be expected to increase. ‘If the kings of England,’ he said in language which must have appealed very strongly to Elizabeth, ‘have any one thing heavier upon their souls than others, it is that they have not made a thorough conquest of this realm.’[253]

Threatening attitude of the Desmonds.

The Queen gracefully thanked Perrott for his services, begged him not to leave his post on account of his health, and proposed to send over an English doctor who knew his constitution. But she did not recall Desmond, who complained loudly of his long detention and declared his good intentions, while admitting that he had made many rash speeches. It does not seem to have occurred to him that a man who could not rule his tongue was hardly fit to rule a province. In the meantime his officers left the land waste, and seized Glin Castle in defiance of the President, whose health obliged him to go suddenly to England without taking the vengeance he had threatened. The highest praise which can be given him for his government of Munster is to quote the words which the ‘Four Masters’ used in derision:—‘The departure of the President was lamented by the poor, the widows, the feeble, and the unwarlike of the country.’ No sooner was his back turned than the Geraldines began to stir ominously. James Fitzmaurice reopened his intrigues with Spain. Finding that his wife had been writing amorous letters to Edward Butler, he divorced her summarily and married O’Connor Kerry’s widow, whose castle of Carrigafoyle, ‘the strongest and beautifullest’ in West Munster, thus fell into his hands, and offered a ready harbour for ‘Jack Spaniard.’ He conferred with Clanricarde’s sons—‘a sage Parliament in God’s name’—and to this Sir John was supposed to be privy. Fitzwilliam saw that mischief was in the wind, and meditated a journey to Munster, when Desmond, whose tone had been gradually growing less submissive, cut the knot by escaping from Dublin.[254]

Desmond escapes from Dublin, and resumes the Irish dress.

Being sent back to England was probably what Desmond really feared, for he afterwards said he had received letters from England hinting at such a thing. He complained of no harsh treatment in Dublin, where he was placed under the Mayor’s charge, but not closely confined. Either wishing for or dreading an escape, his gaoler told the Government that the Earl was welcome to his house and table, but that he would no longer answer for his safe keeping. Some say that he was allowed out on parole, which he kept for a fortnight and then broke. Telling the Mayor that he was going out hunting, and that he would return at night, he went to Grangegorman, and thence escaped by dint of riding into Munster. He was escorted through Kildare by Rory Oge O’More and Piers Grace, both noted brigands or guerillas, and received in the Queen’s County by 400 O’Mores, and in Limerick by James Fitzmaurice. At Lough Gur the Earl and Countess lost no time about showing themselves in Irish dress, and we cannot doubt that glibbes and rolls at once became fashionable again. All the Geraldines hastened to arms, ‘knowing no God, no Prince, but the Earl, no law but his behests.’ Desmond promptly gave out that he would allow no sheriffs, thus practically deciding the palatinate question in his own favour; and to all appearances he was soon as powerful as any of his ancestors had been. Fitzwilliam wrote to warn the fugitive that he was in great danger of losing all, but to Burghley he confessed his fear of a great conspiracy. The lawyers were afraid to go circuit in Munster, and not a single councillor could be got to go to Cork, where Perrott had lately done such execution. In a few days Castlemaine and Castlemartyr, which had taken so much pains to reduce, were again in Geraldine hands, and there was soon nothing to show for Perrott’s Presidency but the gibbeted corpses of some malefactors, and the tears of ‘the poor, the widows, the feeble, and the unwarlike.’[255]

The central district disturbed.

The general course of government was neither smooth nor glorious from the time when Elizabeth determined to restore Desmond to Ireland, until he practically carried out her first intention by escaping from Dublin. Leix and Offaly were almost as bad as they had ever been. In the former, Cosby was forced by his weakness to wink at disorder. In the latter, Henry Cowley, who was honourably distinguished as the only English officer who really tried to rule legally, had to go to Dublin to beg in vain for one hundred men. Without them he hardly knew how to get back to Philipstown, outside which he could at the best scarcely stir. The general opinion was that the Queen meant to leave all to Irish government. The miserable town of Athenry had been plundered and left utterly desolate by Clanricarde’s sons, and an alderman danced attendance on Fitzwilliam and Fitton, begging for help which they could not give. Ormonde’s country in his absence was scarcely better than the rebel districts, and the Graces, who would have obeyed the Earl but no one else, carried off Sir Barnaby Fitzpatrick’s wife and daughter. Sir Barnaby pursued and recovered the young lady, but her mother, who was in delicate health, spent some miserable weeks in captivity in Tipperary and Kilkenny. King Edward’s old companion poured forth his grief to Sidney, and signed himself ‘your poor tormented friend.’ Tremayne, who had orders to make special inquiries about this outrage, reported that Fitzwilliam had followed it up well. But Fitzwilliam could really do very little, for old Cormac O’Connor was again at the head of a Scotch and Irish band who hovered between Leinster and Connaught. The force of the country would not serve against the old chief, nor do any damage to the native gentlemen; so that the whole brunt fell on the scanty garrison and yet more scanty settlers. Athlone Castle was actually entered by the rebels, and Connaught was left to its own devices. Tremayne reported that Clanricarde was quite unable to restrain his graceless sons. Fitton thought his late subjects might, perhaps, by good management be persuaded to stay quiet as long as they liked, ‘which kind of quiet is no new thing in the politics of Ireland.’ Like everyone else, he attributed all to the Queen’s ill-judged parsimony, ‘sparing too sparely I fear will cost more spending.’[256]

Fitzwilliam and Fitton fall out.

A murder.

For most practical purposes the two chief personages in the Irish Government at this time were the Lord Deputy and Vice-Treasurer Fitton—the bearer of the sword and the bearer of the purse. The way in which they worked together was not edifying, nor calculated to impress the natives with a sense of dignity and power. Having inquired into the quarrel between Fitton and Clanricarde, the Lord Deputy and Council decided that the former had made good his case, and they patched up a precarious friendship between them. But in the daily intercourse between hostile officials it was less easy to maintain a friendly appearance. Fitzwilliam was a man of hasty temper, Fitton was said to be vain-glorious and was certainly quarrelsome and litigious. An opportunity for explosion was afforded by an affray between the Vice-Treasurer’s servant Roden, a gentleman’s son—with the expectation of one hundred marks a year, he notes, as if that had anything to do with it—and one Burnell, a follower of the Clerk of the Council, and a friend of Captain Harrington, the Lord Deputy’s nephew. Roden broke Burnell’s head with his dagger, and Harrington threatened vengeance. According to Fitton’s account, Harrington’s servant, James Meade, met Roden in the street some days afterwards, and shouting ‘Dead, villain!’ immediately ran him through the body. The coroner’s jury found that the deed was done in self-defence, but Meade was indicted for murder in the Queen’s Bench, and the Grand Jury found a bill for manslaughter, whereupon the Lord Deputy granted a general pardon, and thus defeated both law and justice entirely. Fitton asked to see the record of pardon, which he retained as evidence, and, refusing to restore it, was imprisoned in the common gaol during the Lord Deputy’s pleasure. Next day Fitzwilliam thought better of it, and summoned the Vice-Treasurer to the Council Board, but he refused to take his seat, declaring that he had done nothing wrong, and that one who had been judged a contemner of authority was unworthy to act as a councillor. He pressed hard for a full inquiry, and the noise soon reached the Queen’s ears, who exonerated Fitton, told him to take his seat again fearlessly, and to repute it praise and honour that he had suffered for doing her Majesty good service. Fitzwilliam she rebuked sharply for giving a pardon which she herself would have feared to grant, lest the blood of slain men should cry vengeance upon the realm. It was generally said in England, she informed the Irish Council, that they were the Deputy’s tools and Fitton only a true councillor. The Vice-Treasurer was not likely to hide the letter addressed to himself, and the other soon got wind in spite of every effort. To the Queen Fitzwilliam could say little but that he was undeservedly disgraced, and longed to be recalled, but he rated Fitton before one hundred persons, impeaching his truth and honesty, and saying that if he kept away from the Council Board he was but one councillor the less. Having his cue from the Queen, Fitton dutifully attended next day, and must be allowed on the whole to have got much the best of it. Fitzwilliam had not the temper to conceal his feelings, though he dared not dispute her Majesty’s decision, for he told Burghley that the other was a deep dissembler and his professed enemy. Malicious, false, and cowardly, he had given him two deadly bites, and was to be distrusted for ever. ‘God send me into the earth or to be tied into a dungeon rather than to be coupled with such a venomous person.’[257]

Death of Lord Chancellor Weston.

At this critical time death deprived the Irish Government of Lord Chancellor Weston’s services. He had held the Great Seal for six years, respected by all the official world as a father to the commonwealth; and the very Irishry lamented his loss. Weston was sincerely religious, not without a tinge of Puritanism, and was filled with anxiety at the condition of the Irish Church. Non-resident clergymen and desecrated churches were the rule, and he felt that he was giving a bad example by holding the temporalities of two deaneries, Wells in England and St. Patrick’s in Ireland. It was thus that scanty salaries were eked out both before and after the Reformation. His conscientious scruples aggravated his naturally weak health, mainly caused, as he believed, by the damp climate, more probably by the want of vegetables and by unskilful physicians. He left a widow who appears to have been worthy of him, and an equally virtuous daughter, who was married first to Brady, Bishop of Meath, and afterwards to Secretary Fenton. Catherine Fenton, the only daughter of this second marriage, whilst in her nurse’s arms, consented in childish play to be the wife of Richard Boyle, afterwards Earl of Cork. Many years later Boyle, a widower of four years’ standing, actually married the ‘little lady’ with whom he had played in his bachelor days. That she inherited the virtues of her mother, grandmother, and grandfather, may be inferred from the beautiful passage in which one of the most powerful and successful men of his time has recorded his debt to his second wife. ‘I never,’ he says, ‘demanded any marriage portion, neither had promise of any, it not being in my consideration; yet her father after my marriage gave me 1,000l. in gold with her; but the gift of his daughter unto me I must ever thankfully acknowledge as the crown of all my blessings; for she was a most religious, virtuous, loving, and obedient wife unto me all the days of her life, and the happy mother of all my hopeful children, who, with their posterity, I beseech God to bless.’ Among the children were the famous Orrery, and the yet more famous Robert Boyle.[258]

Catholic intrigues. Rowland Turner.

The relations of England both with France and Spain were at this time extremely strained, and Antonio de Gueras, the Spanish Commissioner in London, thought the expedition of Essex might be turned to good purpose. The English refugees in Spain and the Low Countries kept pressing Philip to invade Ireland, and Rowland Turner, calling himself Lord Audley, an English priest from Louvain, was sent to Ulster with letters from De Gueras to Sir Brian MacPhelim. Essex, the Spaniard wrote, was about to land with 3,000 men and to exterminate the O’Neills. In order to frustrate his plan, Sir Brian was advised to put himself under the direction of Turner, a prudent, worthy, and faithful Catholic gentleman, with 500 splendidly armed men awaiting his orders in England. Turner, who had lately been in Spain, Scotland, and the Isle of Man, was well known to the English Government; and his foolish boasts about hanging all Protestants were not likely to enhance his reputation for ability or discretion. Sir Brian, though very willing to keep off Essex, had no idea of directly opposing Queen Elizabeth, nor of engaging in œcumenical plots for the extirpation of heresy. Like Archbishop Fitzgibbon, he feared that the English Catholics would make a tool of him, and throw him away when a turn had been served. He received Turner very coldly, who bitterly complained that he was not believed, though an exile for God’s sake and for that of the Irish. Captain Piers hinted to Sir Brian that Turner’s noble blood was fabulous, and the exile, while insisting upon his own stainless pedigree, retorted that Piers himself was the son of a scoundrel, and unworthy of being believed on his oath. His language, indeed, though he wrote in Latin, was almost worthy of Marryat’s boatswain. The Irish were wretched, beggarly paupers, the slaves of the English, who took their cattle and fished their waters without payment, and held all their country either by force or fraud. By listening to Turner the natives might change all this, and make the English their slaves for ever. But they would not listen; and Turner shook the dust from his feet, though Essex thought he could trace the effects of his machinations. He was afterwards employed by Alva, and received money from Philip, but he does not appear to have risked a second rebuff in Ireland.[259]

Essex can do little or nothing.

After Smith’s death Essex could do little but bemoan his hard fate and confess that the people, ‘to increase their own plague, had refused her Majesty’s mercies.’ The causes of failure he thus sums up: ‘Two great disadvantages I find in this little time of my continuance here. The first by the adventurers, of whom the most part, not having forgotten the delicacies of England, and wanting resolute minds to endure the travail of a year or two in this waste country, have forsaken me, feigning excuses to repair home, where I hear they give forth speeches in dislike of the enterprise to the discouragement of others. The second, that the common hired soldiers, both horsemen and footmen, mislike of their pay, and allege that they were not pressed by commission but by persuasion, and therefore ought not to be detained in this service longer than they like to stay. This is not hidden from the Irish, who also are fully persuaded that this war is altogether mine, alleging that if it were your Majesty’s, it should be executed by the Lord Deputy, being your chief general here; and therefore thinking that I must be in a short time wearied with the charge, have confederated to stand in arms, which they would never do with your Majesty unless it were in respect of me, whereby I must acknowledge the weakness of myself, and so consequently of any subject that shall attempt any great service, and therein part with his prince either honour or profit. Therefore my humble petition is, that, albeit the moiety of the charge be mine, according to my covenant with your Majesty, that yet some means may be devised that all the officers, soldiers, and dealers in this war may seem to be your Majesty’s; the war yours, and the reformation your Majesty’s, and I only the instrument and executor of this service; whereby all men shall either put on better contentations and new courages, or else I with better warrant may punish the mutiny and the base ignobility of the soldiers’ minds.’[260]

Falstaffian recruits.

The Devon and Somerset men, under Captain Burrowes, showed a particularly craven spirit, and began to desert at the prospect of active service. Essex hanged a few without much effect, for they preferred both starving and hanging to fighting. This is not surprising when we consider how they were recruited. The Privy Council directed the Western gentlemen to call for volunteers, and in default of a response to press those whom the country could best spare. Of course they sent all the greatest blackguards.

The Irish profess to regard Essex as a mere private person.

Captain Thomas Wilsford, who saw clearly how matters stood, reported that the Irish were actuated ‘by despair to farm any part of their lands. They affirm they are no rebels, for that they say it is not the Queen’s wars, and that they do but defend their own lands and goods.’ The English, moreover, were unwarlike, ‘through the fat, delicate soil and long peace at home,’ and unable to cope with the Irish, who, while retaining their native hardiness, had become skilled in the use of weapons. The task was too great for any but the Queen, though Essex was one to go through with his undertaking even at the cost of his earldom. He ‘shot not at the gain and revenue of the matter, but rather for the honour and credit of the cause.’ It is not in this poetic fashion that flourishing colonies have been founded, nor was the Earl himself sanguine, for he sent a trusty messenger to England with a detailed account of his troubles; and indeed nothing could be worse than the aspect of affairs, especially after the escape of Desmond had made it hopeless to expect help from the Pale.[261]

Appeal to Fitzwilliam against him.

Essex could do nothing against the enemy, but some whom he considered lukewarm friends were more within his power. Piers, being accused of giving information to Sir Brian, was closely imprisoned and treated with excessive harshness, though there does not appear to have been any evidence against him. Nor was Fitzwilliam spared, for the Irish very reasonably held that if the war was the Queen’s the army should be led by the Queen’s Deputy, and it is probable that that experienced officer was of the same opinion himself. Essex professed readiness to serve under him as a private adventurer, but in the meantime accused him of encouraging libels against Burghley and himself. ‘He could be contented to hear me ill spoken of openly in his chamber by his own servants, and he to show countenance, as though he took pleasure in his man’s words ... he can be contented to sit in his chair and smile; and because I see further that all the Irish messengers of Ulster are daily with his lordship and I no way made privy to their petitions, or causes of their coming thither, I conclude that underhand many things may pass to my disadvantage, for already, whatsoever I require at any Irishman’s hands, he appealeth to the Lord Deputy.’[262] Captain Wilsford thought that Ulster was about the quietest part of Ireland, and it is likely that Fitzwilliam, besides a not unnatural jealousy, thought it extremely unreasonable that with the scanty forces at his disposal he should be in any way called upon to advance the Northern enterprise.

The Marward abduction case.

The carrying off of the Fitzpatrick ladies had created much stir at the English Court, on account of the high position of the victims. That, however, was in a remote part of the country, and the captives were detained as hostages only. The story of an abduction of the day throws more light upon the state of society than any number of political disquisitions. Janet Marward, heiress and titular baroness of Skryne in Meath, a manor worth some 200l. a year, was a royal ward, and the Queen gave her wardship to Fitzwilliam, who sold it to her stepfather, Nicholas Nugent, second Baron of the Exchequer. Her mother, besides being married to a judge, was the daughter of a judge, John Plunket, Chief Justice of the Queen’s Bench. Nugent sold the unfortunate girl to his nephew, the Baron of Delvin’s brother. ‘Afterwards, by procurement of the mother, the maid, being but eleven years old, was made to mislike of Nugent and to like of the young Lord of Dunsany, being of the Plunkets, whereupon there fell great discord between the Houses of Delvin and Dunsany, and the maid being by her mother and father-in-law brought into this city as the safest place to keep her, on Friday last at night about twelve o’clock the Baron of Delvin’s brother, accompanied with a number of armed men, the watch being either negligent or corrupted, entered one of the postern gates of the city with twenty swords and entered by sleight into the house where the maid lay, and forcibly carried her away, to the great terror of the mother and of all the rest.’ William Nugent married the heiress without her own consent or that of her friends. But we may hope that in time she got to ‘like of’ her lawless husband tolerably well, for when he was in prison for conspiracy nine years after it is recorded that she sent him some shirts. With such things going on under the very shadow of Dublin Castle, it is no wonder that Fitzwilliam should clamour for recall or that he should regret the hard fate of his three marriageable daughters, who were losing their time in Ireland. Had they been heiresses and royal wards their lot might have been still harder.[263]