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

by Richard Bagwell

FOOTNOTES:

[282] Letter of advice to the Earl of Essex, to take upon him the care of Irish causes, when Mr. Secretary Cecil was in France (February to April, 1598), and a second letter from Bacon a little later, both printed by Spedding, vol. ii. pp. 94-1_0. There are many significant passages in Rowland Whyte’s letters in Sidney Papers, vol. ii. pp. 82-97. Essex was busy with Ireland before Cecil’s departure and before Bacon’s first letter, for Whyte wrote on Jan. 19: ‘Yesterday in the afternoon I went to the Court to attend my Lord of Essex, and he no sooner began to hearken unto me, but in comes my Lord of Thomond, in post from Ireland, and then was I commanded to take some other time.’ And see Chamberlain’s Letters, May 4, 1598. Spenser, who wrote in 1596 proposes that Essex should be Lord-Lieutenant, ‘upon whom the eye of all England is fixed, and our last hopes now rest.’

[283] Fenton to Cecil, June 11; Ormonde to Cecil, June 18. O’Sullivan Bere (tom. iii. lib. iv. cap. iii.) owns to 120 killed in the attempted escalade. The eating of grass by the garrison recalls the defence of Casilinum against Hannibal (Livy, xxiii. 19).

[284] Loftus, Gardiner, Wallop, St. Leger, and Fenton to the Privy Council, Aug. 16; Lords Justices Loftus and Gardiner to the Privy Council (‘in private’), Aug. 17; Ormonde to the Queen, Aug. 18; State of the Queen’s army, March 31, 1598, printed in the National MSS. of Ireland from a paper at Kilkenny.

[285] Lieut. William Taaffe to H. Shee, Aug. 16. He calls the powder-barrels ‘firkins.’ Captain Montague’s Report, Aug. 16; Declaration of the two Captains Kingsmill, Aug. 23, and that of Captain Billings who commanded the rearguard. All the above, with many other papers, are printed either in Irish Arch. Journal, N.S. vol. i. pp. 256-282, or in National MSS. of Ireland, part iv. 1. See also Camden and the Four Masters. There is a minute and nearly contemporary account in O’Sullivan Bere, tom. iii. lib. iv. cap. 5, but he was not present. It is O’Sullivan who mentions the junipers, which do not now grow wild about Armagh. I have carefully inspected the ground, having besides the advantage of consulting two pamphlets kindly sent to me by Mr. E. Rogers of the Armagh Library, whose great local knowledge has been brought to bear on the subject.

[286] O’Sullivan; Montague to Ormonde, Aug. 16. The English accounts specify twelve colours as lost; O’Sullivan says thirty-four.

[287] Ormonde to Cecil, Sept. 15. In writing to the same, on Aug. 24, Ormonde admits the reduced list of twenty-four officers killed and one taken prisoner, 855 men killed and 363 wounded. To these must be added the missing, and there were certainly several hundred deserters. Other English estimates of loss are considerably higher. Camden says 1,500 men were killed.

[288] Four Masters, 1598. Sir C. Clifford to the Lords Justices, Sept. 7; to Cecil, Oct. 30; Lady Clifford’s declaration, Oct. 31.

[289] Lords Justices and Council to the Privy Council, Nov. 23 and 27, 1598. Sir R. Bingham to the Lords Justices (from Naas) Nov. 27. There is a MS. dialogue among the Irish S.P. for 1598, which purports to be the ocular testimony of the writer, Thomas Wilson, and which is dedicated to Essex. The interlocutors are Peregryn and Silvyn—the names of Spenser’s two sons—and the dialogue, which unfolds the state of things in King’s County from harvest 1597 to All Saints’ Day 1598, is very much in the style of that between Irenæus and Eudoxus. Is Thomas Wilson a stalking-horse for Edmund Spenser?

[290] Four Masters, 1598; O’Sullivan, tom. iii. lib. v. cap. 2; Discourse by William Weever (prisoner with the Munster rebels) Sept. 29 to Oct. 10. Fenton to Cecil, April 20, for the Tower story.

[291] Ormonde to James Fitzthomas, Oct. 8, 1598; James ‘Desmonde’ to Ormonde, Oct. 12.

[292] Ormonde to the Queen, Oct. 12, 1598; Chief Justice Saxey’s account, October.

[293] List of castles abandoned without resistance in Ormonde’s letter to the Queen, Oct. 21, 1598; Oliver Stephenson to Norris, Oct. 16; Henry Smyth’s State of Munster ‘as I did see and hear it,’ Oct. 30. An anonymous paper of October gives some details of Raleigh’s settlement at Tallow. See also James Sarsfield, mayor of Cork, to the Privy Council, Oct. 21.

[294] Arthur Hyde to the Privy Council, Oct. 28, 1598; Captain F. Barkley to the Lords Justices, Nov. 3.

[295] Sir T. Norris to the Privy Council and to Cecil, Oct. 23, 1598; W. Weever’s discourse, Oct.; Chief Justice Saxey’s account, Oct.; the Queen to Ormonde and the Lords Justices, Dec. 1, and to Norris, Dec. 3; Moryson, book i. chap. i.; O’Sullivan, tom. iii. lib. v. caps. 1-5; Four Masters, 1598. Dunqueen is close to Slea Head, the westernmost point of Kerry.

[296] Ormonde to the Privy Council, Nov. 5, 1598; Edward Gough and George Sherlock to Sir N. Walshe, Nov. 16. Gough and Walshe held Cistercian lands at Innislonagh and Glandore; Sherlock had those of the Canons Regular at Cahir; but none of the three bore Protestant names.

[297] Ormonde to the Privy Council, Nov. 5, 1598; to the Queen, Jan. 19, 1599; the Queen to Ormonde and the Lords Justices, Dec. 1, 1598, in Carew. Bingham’s appointment as Marshal was announced on Aug. 31, only seventeen days after Bagenal’s death. He reached Ireland in October, and died at Dublin, Jan. 19. A memorial by Cecil, dated Nov. 4, 1598 (in Carew, p. 523), has the words ‘Clifford betrayed, Bingham lightly condemned.’ Bingham’s Irish patent is dated Oct. 13, and the Queen informed the Lords Justices that she had specially chosen him, that he was to draw pay and allowances from the day of Bagenal’s death, and that he was to have all the privileges that had ever attached to the office. Morrin’s Patent Rolls, 40 Eliz. 57 and 58.

[298] Four Masters, 1598 and 1599. The Queen to Sir T. Norris, Dec. 3, 1598, in Carew.

[299] Four Masters, 1599. For Con O’Neill see Carew, March and April, Nos. 299-301; Journal of Sir T. Norris, from March 27 to April 4; Justice Golde to Essex, April 4; Essex to Privy Council, April 29. Lord Roche had a private quarrel with the Sugane Earl.

[CHAPTER XLVIII.]

ESSEX IN IRELAND, 1599.

Position of Essex.

Sir Henry Wotton, who was a good judge and who had special means of observation in this case, was of opinion that Essex wore out the Queen’s patience by his petulance. He has recorded that a wise and, as it turned out, prophetic adviser warned the Earl that, though he might sometimes carry a point by sulking at Wanstead, at Greenwich, or in his own chamber, yet in the long run such conduct would lead to ruin. ‘Such courses as those were like hot waters, which help at a pang, but if they be too often used will spoil the stomach.’ The advice was not taken, and Essex continued to treat every check as a personal insult. The natural effect followed, and by the year 1598 ‘his humours grew tart, as being now in the lees of favour.’[300]

He offends the Queen

by his petulance.

Burghley died a few days before the disaster at Blackwater, and Philip II. not many days after. The policy of Spain was not much affected, though the change might be thought like that from Solomon to Rehoboam; but England missed the wise and kindly hand which had often held Essex straight. Bagenal’s overthrow brought into sudden prominence that thorny problem with which the impetuous favourite was of all men the least fit to cope. Patience, steadiness, organising power, knowledge of men, were the qualities needed in Ireland then, as now, and Essex was conspicuously deficient in them all. ‘I will tell you,’ said a great court official, ‘I know but one friend and one enemy my lord hath: and that one friend is the Queen, and that one enemy is himself.’ It seemed as if no misconduct could permanently alienate Elizabeth, and yet he tried her forbearance very hardly. A few days or weeks before the old Lord Treasurer’s death, she had proposed to send Sir William Knollys, Essex’s uncle, to govern Ireland. The Earl favoured the appointment of Sir George Carew, who was certainly much fitter for the work than himself, and whom he was thought to be anxious to remove from the court. The Queen insisting, he turned his back on her with a gesture of contempt. Raleigh—who was, however, his enemy—says he exclaimed that ‘her conditions were as crooked as her carcase.’ She in turn lost her temper, and gave him a box on the ear. He laid his hand on his sword, swearing that he would not have endured such an indignity from Henry VIII. himself, and immediately departed to Wanstead.

‘Your Majesty hath,’ he afterwards wrote to Elizabeth, ‘by the intolerable wrong you have done both me and yourself, not only broken all laws of affection, but done against the honour of your sex. I think all places better than that where I am, and all dangers well undertaken, so I might retire myself from the memory of my false, inconstant, and beguiling pleasures.’ Of course it was very undignified of the Queen to strike anyone, but many things may be urged in excuse. She was old enough to be her favourite’s grandmother. She had known him from early youth, and she had every reason to look upon him still in the light of a spoiled child. No one with any sense of humour would resent a blow from a woman as from a man, and Essex might very well have treated it all as a joke. But what is to be said for a man who insults a lady well stricken in years, who is his sovereign, and who has heaped upon him honours and benefits far beyond his deserts?[301]

Essex determines to be Viceroy.

Norris and Bingham being dead, the appointment of a Lord Deputy became a matter of pressing necessity. The Queen thought of Mountjoy, who, as the event proved, was, of all men, fittest for the arduous task. But Essex objected to him, much upon the same grounds as Iago objected to Michael Cassio. He had indeed some experience in the field, but only in subordinate posts; and he was ‘too much drowned in book learning.’ Another argument was that he was a man of small estate and few followers, and that ‘some prime man of the nobility’ should be sent into Ireland. Everyone understood that he had come to want the place himself, and that he would oppose every possible candidate.

During the autumn of 1598 and far into the winter, the affair hung fire, more perhaps from the difficulty of satisfying his demands for extraordinary powers than from any wish to refuse him the dangerous honour. Indeed, if we may believe Camden, his enemies foresaw his failure, and were only too anxious to help him to the viceroyalty on any terms. About the new year his appointment seemed to be certain, and by the first week in March everything was settled. ‘I have beaten Knollys and Mountjoy in the Council,’ Essex wrote in great exultation, ‘and by God I will beat Tyr-Owen in the field; for nothing worthy her Majesty’s honour hath yet been achieved.’ It is not in such boastful mood that great men are wont to put on their armour. And besides all this, Knollys was his uncle and Mountjoy his familiar friend.[302]

His uneasy ambition.

It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to inquire how Essex came to desire such a thankless office as the government of Ireland. His ambition was not of an ignoble cast; but it is certain that he grasped greedily at every important command, and that he could scarcely brook a superior, or even a colleague. This was clearly shown in his ridiculous quarrel with the Lord Admiral about precedence, no less than in more important matters. He probably saw the Irish difficulty well enough, but any hesitation about incurring the risk of failure was more than counterbalanced by the fear of someone else gaining great glory.

Bacon’s excuses.

Bacon had advised him to remain at Court, but to take Irish affairs under his special protection there, to consult with men who knew the country, to fill places with his own friends, and to patronise others who were likely to be useful. In short, he was urged to make what the newspapers now call political capital out of Ireland, but not to risk himself and his reputation there. While giving this counsel, Bacon had expressed a fear that the Earl was not the man to play such a game skilfully. And so it fell out. By the beginning of the year 1599 Essex saw that he would have to go. Years afterwards, when Elizabeth was gone, Bacon found that an inconvenient cloud hung over him on account of the part he had played. He then tried to persuade others, and possibly succeeded in persuading himself, that he had really ‘used all means he could devise’ to prevent Essex from venturing into Ireland. The fact seems to be that he kept quiet as long as the thing could have been prevented, and did not try to make Essex reconsider the matter when he decided to go. He afterwards said that he ‘did plainly see his overthrow chained as it were by destiny to that journey’; but at the time he did no more than warn him against possible failure from defects of temper, while he enlarged upon the great glory which would follow success. A comparison of extant letters shows that Essex himself was far more impressed than Bacon with the danger and difficulties of the Irish problem, though, when he was on the eve of setting out, his impulsive nature allowed him to brag of the great things that he was going to do.[303]

Opinions of Wotton and Bacon.

‘I have heard him say,’ writes Wotton of Essex, ‘and not upon any flashes or fumes of melancholy, or traverses of discontent, but in a serene and quiet mood, that he could very well have bent his mind to a retired course.’ This is confirmed by other authorities, and indeed Essex, though he had a soldier’s courage, was by nature a student and a dreamer rather than a man of action. Circumstances brought him forward, and his character made him uncomfortable in any place except the highest. Bacon wished him to stay at court with a white staff, as Leicester had done, but the work was uncongenial. If he could have succeeded Burghley, perhaps he might have accepted the position; as it was Ireland offered him the kind of power which he most coveted, and though he was not blind to the danger of leaving a Hanno behind him, he fancied that he was fit to play the part of Hannibal. Just as he was starting Bacon wrote him a long letter of advice, reminding him that the Irish rebels were active and their country difficult, but reminding him also that ‘the justest triumphs that the Romans in their greatness did obtain, and that whereof the emperors in their styles took addition and denomination, were of such an enemy as this... such were the Germans and the Ancient Britons, and divers others. Upon which kind of people, whether the victory were a conquest, or a reconquest upon a rebellion or a revolt, it made no difference that ever I could find in honour.’ Years afterwards Bacon pleaded that he had done what he could to stop Essex, on the ground that the expedition would certainly fall short of public expectation and ‘would mightily diminish his reputation.’ Again he mentions the Germans and Britons, the woods and the bogs, the hardness of the Irishmen’s bodies, so that there can be no doubt about what he alludes to. We have the original letter, and Bacon stands convicted of misrepresentation, the grosser because careless observers might so easily confound it with the reality.[304]

Difficulties and delays.

About the beginning of December the number of Essex’s army was fixed at 14,000. Then there was talk of a smaller establishment, and the affair went through the usual hot and cold phases of all suits at Elizabeth’s court. Spenser had experienced the miseries of hope deferred, and Shakespeare saw the spurns which patient merit of the unworthy takes. ‘Into Ireland I go,’ writes the Earl on New Year’s day; ‘the Queen hath irrevocably decreed it, the Council do passionately urge it, and I am tied in my own reputation to use no tergiversation.’ He had many misgivings, but had decided in his own mind that he was bound to go. ‘The Court,’ he admitted, ‘is the centre, but methinks it is the fairer choice to command armies than humours.’ In the meanwhile the humour changed daily. Essex was not patient, and the whole wrangle must have been inexpressibly distasteful to him. On Twelfth-day the Queen danced with him, and it was decided that he should start in March. Three weeks later there were fresh difficulties about the excessive number of gentlemen whom he proposed to take with him. As late as March 1, it seemed doubtful whether the Queen’s irrevocable decree would not after all be altered. Mountjoy, who had a much cooler head, had earnestly advised his friend to leave nothing to chance, to his enemies’ pleasure, or to official promises, and it is to the Earl’s consciousness that this advice was sound, that the delays must be chiefly attributed. On March 6 letters patent were passed, releasing him from the arrears of his father’s debts incurred in the same thankless Irish service, and six days later he was formally appointed Lord Lieutenant. That title had not been granted since the return of Sussex thirty-seven years before.[305]

Departure of Essex.

On March 27 Essex took horse at Seething Lane, accompanied by a brilliant suite. Prayers were offered in the churches for his success against the imitators of Korah and Absalom, in whose cases God had manifested to the world his hatred of all rebellion against His divine ordinance, and foreshadowing His probable care for an anointed queen. ‘Do not,’ said the Anglican divines, ‘punish our misdeeds by strengthening the hands of such as despise the truth.’ Through Cornhill and Cheapside, and for more than four miles out of town, the people thronged about their favourite, with such cries as ‘God bless your lordship! God preserve your honour!’ The day was very fine at starting, but ere Islington was passed there came a black north-easter with thunder, hail, and rain; and some held it for a bad omen. Nor did the popular hero travel as though he loved the work or believed in himself. On April 1 he was at Bromley, bitterly complaining that the Queen would not make Sir Christopher Blount a councillor, and announcing that he had sent him back. ‘I shall,’ he wrote, ‘have no such necessary use of his hands, as, being barred the use of his head, I would carry him to his own disadvantage, and the disgrace of the place he should serve in.’ The place was that of Marshal of the army, which Blount did actually fill, and there is no reason to suppose that he would have been any useful addition to the Council. Such virtues as he had, and they were not many, were those of the camp. On the 3rd, Essex was at Tamworth, and on the 5th at Helbry, the island off the Dee which Sir Henry Sidney had found so wearisome. The wind did not serve, and there was a delay of a week before he sailed from Beaumaris, having ridden over Penmaen Mawr, ‘the worst way and in the extremest wet that I have endured.’ After a bad passage Dublin was reached on the 15th. William, 13th Earl of Kildare, ‘with eighteen of the chiefs of Meath and Fingal’ set out to follow in the Lord Lieutenant’s wake. The vessel, built for speed and probably overpressed with canvas, foundered in mid-Channel, and all on board perished.[306]

Great expectations,

which cool observers do not share.

The public expectation from the mission of Essex was such that Shakespeare ventured to suggest a possible comparison between him and the victor of Agincourt. Had he succeeded he would have been the hero of the Elizabethan age, greater in the eyes of his contemporaries than Norris or Raleigh, greater even than Drake. His task was, indeed, no light one, for the rebels in arms were estimated at very nearly 20,000 men, of which less than half were in Ulster. In the south and west the chief towns and many detached strongholds were held for the Queen, but in the northern province her power was confined to Carrickfergus and Newry, Carlingford, Greencastle, and Narrow Water, all on the coast, and to one castle in the inland county of Cavan. The preparations were on a scale suitable to the emergency, for 16,000 foot and 1,400 horse far exceeded the usual proportions of a viceregal army. Nor was it composed wholly of raw levies, for Essex insisted on having Sir Henry Docwra, with 2,000 veterans, from Holland; his plan being so to distribute them that some seasoned soldiers should be present everywhere. But there had always been corruption in the Irish service, and cool observers thought it necessary to make allowance for false musters and cooked returns. A crowd of adventurous young gentlemen accompanied Essex, among whom was John Harrington, the Queen’s godson, and by her much admired for his wit. Harrington was advised, by a friend at court, to keep a secret journal in Ireland, for future use in case of disaster. ‘Observe,’ says the letter, ‘the man who commandeth, and yet is commanded himself. He goeth not forth to serve the Queen’s realm, but to humour his own revenge.’ There were spies about him, ‘and when a man hath so many shewing friends, and so many unshewing enemies, who learneth his end here below?’ Cecil cautioned Secretary Fenton that the new Lord Lieutenant thought ill of him because of his friendship with Sir John Norris. Justice Golde of Munster, who knew his country well, hoped Essex’s ‘famous victory in mighty Spain would not be subject to receive blemish in miserable Ireland.’ It did not require the penetration of a Bacon to see that the expedition was likely to end in failure, and in the ruin of the chief actor.[307]

Powers given to Essex.

The Lord Lieutenant’s commission was of the most ample kind. He was authorised to lease the land of rebels generally, and more particularly to give or grant property affected by the attainder of Tyrone and others in Tyrone, Tyrconnell, Fermanagh, Leitrim, and the Route, exceptions being made in favour of O’Dogherty and Sir Arthur O’Neill, as rebels by compulsion rather than through disloyalty. Officers not holding by patent he was empowered to dismiss, and even patentees might be suspended. He might grant pardons for all treasons, but in Tyrone’s case he was only to pardon for life, and not for lands, and to exact some guarantee before giving even life and liberty to one who had ‘so vilely abused her mercy.’ That ‘capital traitor’ was in no case to be spared without due submission first made in all lowly and reverend form. The power of making knights had usually been granted to viceroys, and had been sometimes abused by them. This touched Elizabeth in her tenderest point, for it was by not letting it become too cheap that she had made knighthood a real defence of the nation. Essex was charged to ‘confer that title upon none that shall not deserve it by some notorious service, or have not in possession or reversion sufficient living to maintain their degree and calling.’[308]

Sir Arthur Chichester.

Among the officers serving under Essex in Ireland was Sir Arthur Chichester, whose value he had learned during the Cadiz expedition. In his capacity of Earl Marshal he directed Chichester to take a muster of 2,600 at Chester; but it was to Cecil that the latter owed his appointment to command a regiment of 1,200 men, and it was to him that he applied for the pay due to his brother John when slain at Carrickfergus, remarking at the same time that he was a ‘better soldier than suitor.’ Cecil had protested against so able a man being wasted in the command of a mere company. Chichester landed at Dublin; and went to Drogheda, which Essex visited on purpose to review a regiment of which he had heard so much. The veterans, who came straight from the strict school of the Ostend siege, made an imposing show on parade, and the Lord Lieutenant thoughtlessly charged them with his mounted staff. The pikemen did not quite see the joke, and stood so firm that Essex had to pull his horse back on its haunches, and ‘a saucy fellow with his pike pricked his Lordship (saving your reverence) in the rump and made him bleed.’ Chichester was sent to his brother’s old post at Carrickfergus, and there he was generally quartered till the end of the war and of the reign.[309]

Essex postpones his departure for Ulster.

‘This noble and worthy gentleman our lord and master,’ said Wotton, who was one of his secretaries, ‘took the sword and sway of this unsettled kingdom into his hands 15th instant,’ adding that the Bishop of Meath preached a grave, wise, and learned sermon on the occasion. Essex was instructed to inform himself by conference with the Council, and the result of several meetings was a resolution not to attack Tyrone and O’Donnell, but rather to plague those Leinster allies who had lately taken a solemn oath of allegiance to them in Holy Cross Abbey. Want of forage, involving lean cattle and weak draught-horses, was the reason given for inaction; but it is proverbial that a council of war never fights, and the Lord Lieutenant was but too ready to adopt a dilatory policy. ‘A present prosecution in Leinster, being the heart of the whole kingdom,’ was what the Council advised, and if that plan had been adhered to, there was a good deal to be said in its favour. About 30,000 rebels were reported to be in arms altogether; and of these the home province contained 3,000 natives, besides 800 mercenaries from Ulster. The mountains of Wicklow and Dublin had not been quieted by the death of Feagh MacHugh; his sons, with other O’Byrnes and O’Tooles, still carried on the war, while the bastard Geraldines and a remnant of the Eustaces were out in Kildare. Carlow and Wexford were terrorised by Donell Spaniagh and his Kavanaghs. Owen MacRory commanded a powerful band of O’Mores in Queen’s County, and in King’s County there were still many unsubdued O’Connors. Lord Mountgarret and the O’Carrolls were also reckoned as rebels. Meath and Westmeath were full of armed bands, while Longford and Louth had suffered greatly by incursions from Ulster. A force of 3,000 foot and 300 horse was sent forward to Kilcullen, and on May 10 Essex set out from Dublin to take the command.[310]

Campaign in Leinster.

From Kilcullen bridge on the Liffey to Athy bridge on the Barrow, the line of march lay through a wooded country, and stray shots, which did no harm, were fired at advanced parties. Athy was found to be decayed through the disturbed state of the country, but the castle was surrendered without difficulty, and Ormonde made his appearance, accompanied by his kinsmen Lords Mountgarret and Cahir, both of whom had been considered in rebellion. About 200 rebels showed themselves, but retired to bogs and woods on the advance of Southampton with a detachment. Lord Grey de Wilton was carried by his impetuosity further forward than his orders warranted, and was placed under arrest for a night. Both lords had cause to regret what was perhaps an ill-judged exercise of authority. Sir Christopher St. Lawrence here distinguished himself by swimming across the Barrow, recovering some stolen horses, and returning with one of the marauder’s heads.

Owen MacRory O’More.

After three or four days the provision train came up, and Maryborough was relieved; the rebels not venturing to make their threatened attack at Blackford near Stradbally. From Maryborough, which Harrington calls ‘a fort of much importance, but of contemptible strength,’ Essex made his way to Lord Mountgarret’s house at Ballyragget. The line of march lay through a wooded pass; where the O’Mores had dug ditches and made breastworks of the fallen trees. Essex showed both skill and activity, but he lost three officers and several men; and the natives could hardly have hoped to stop a viceregal army between Dublin and Kilkenny. One Irish account says the English loss was great, and another notes the capture of many plumed helmets, from which the place was named the ‘pass of feathers.’ The accounts agree that Owen MacRory had not more than about 500 men with him, and Harrington says he offered to have a fight with sword and target between fifty chosen men on each side. Essex agreed to this, but the Irish did not appear. The Lord Lieutenant did not risk as much as Perrott had formerly done, when he proposed to decide the war by a duel with Fitzmaurice, but Ormonde must have remembered that day well, and can hardly have thought this later piece of knight-errantry much less foolish.[311]

Campaign in Munster.

The Kilkenny people expressed their joy at the arrival of Essex ‘by lively orations and silent strewing of the streets with green herbs and rushes,’ and he received a similar welcome at Clonmel. But he did not like the Latin oration delivered at the latter town: it adjured him not to bear the sword of justice in vain, while he anxiously protested that it was for the exercise of clemency that ‘her Majesty had given him both sword and power.’

Siege of Cahir.

Essex was now in Munster, and his resolution first to subdue the home province had been thrown to the winds. Derrinlaur Castle, which annoyed the navigation of the Suir, was surrendered; its indefensibility had been proved in 1574, and the fate of the garrison was doubtless well remembered. Another castle higher up the river gave more trouble. Lord Cahir was in the viceregal camp, but his brother James (called Galdie or the Englishman) undertook to defend the family stronghold, and it was necessary to bring up heavy artillery. The want of foresight which characterised this campaign was conspicuously shown here. The battering train, ‘one cannon and one culverin,’ was brought up by water to Clonmel, but no draught horses had been provided, nor were there any means of strengthening the bridges, which might sink under so unusual a weight. The guns were slowly dragged by men all the way to Cahir, of the strength of which there is an elaborate official account. The critical Harrington admits that it was not built with any great art, but that nature had made it practically impregnable, which was not true even in those days. An assault would have been difficult, for the castle was then surrounded by water; but a battery, which completely commanded it, was easily planted near the site of the present railway station. Lord Cahir called upon his brother to surrender, but was answered by threats and insults. Two days later the guns came, were placed at once in position, and opened fire in a few hours; but the carriage of the largest ‘brake at the second shot,’ and took a day and a half to repair. A ball stuck in the culverin, but that too was cleared in time, and fifty rounds from this light piece was enough to silence the garrison on that side. An orchard under the south-west wall was occupied the same night, and most of the garrison escaped by the left bank of the river; but two of the English captains were killed. Before a breach could be effected the White Knight threw in reinforcements, and the besiegers made another lodgment at the north-east end of the island. The cannonade was renewed at close quarters, and on the night of the third day the garrison made a sally. The intended assault had been assigned to Sir Charles Percy and Sir Christopher St. Lawrence, with four companies of the Flanders veterans, who repulsed the attack and entered the castle along with the Irish, of whom about eighty were killed. A few escaped by swimming, and the guns were soon mounted on the deserted walls. Having repaired damages and placed a garrison of 100 men in the castle, the Lord Lieutenant marched northward along the left bank of the Suir. He made much of this siege, which was the single thing he had to boast of in Munster, but it was a small matter after all. A year later James Butler, with sixty men, again got possession of this ‘inexpugnable’ fortress without firing a shot, but soon surrendered to Carew, whose bare threats were enough to secure his object.[312]

Death of Sir Thomas Norris.

Irish tactics.

The bridge at Golden was repaired and the army passed to Tipperary, where a letter was received from Sir Thomas Norris, whom Essex had already met at Kilkenny. The Lord President announced that he had been wounded in a skirmish with the Castleconnel Burkes, but he recovered sufficiently to accompany Essex in part of his Munster campaign. The wound seems to have been fatal at last, for on August he was dangerously ill, and in September commissioners were appointed to execute duties which had been neglected since his death. The Lord-Lieutenant himself was well received at Limerick, and entertained with two English orations, ‘in which,’ says Harrington, ‘I know not which was more to be discommended—words, composition, or oratory, all of which having their peculiar excellencies in barbarism, harshness, and rustical, both pronouncing and action.’ After several days’ rest the next operation was to revictual Askeaton, and the Sugane Earl showed himself at Adare with 2,000 or 3,000 men. The bridge was not defended, but the Irish galled the army in passing a boggy wood beyond the Maigue, and the soldiers ‘went so coldly on’ that Essex had to reproach their baseness. Harrington describes the enemy as ‘rather morrice-dancers tripping after their bag-pipes’ than soldiers, and declares that in all Munster they never once strayed from the edge of their woods ‘further than an old hunted hare doth from her covert for relief.’ Some fighting there was, and the official account makes much of the Irish losses and little of the Lord-Lieutenant’s; but Harrington says that Plunkett, an insurgent captain who was supposed to have shown slackness, had next day to give Desmond hostages for his good behaviour. As Essex passed through each hedge, the thorns closed behind him, and left the state of Munster unaltered.[313]

End of Munster campaign.

Death of Sir Henry Norris.

Askeaton was easily victualled by water from Limerick, and Essex turned aside to Conna near Lismore, where Desmond had his chief residence. The move was thought a strange one, and Harrington could only conjecture that he wished to ‘give the rebels an inexcusable provocation,’ but O’Sullivan, much less ingeniously, says that he did not dare to proceed further westward. At Finniterstown the army had to pass between two woods, and had a sharp fight with Desmond, who had been joined by Lord Fitzmaurice and some of the MacCarthies. Captain Jennings was killed, Sir Henry Norris had his leg broken by a bullet, and a third officer was shot through both cheeks. Norris ‘endured amputation with extraordinary patience,’ but died a few weeks afterwards, making the third of these famous six brothers who had fallen a victim to the Irish service. After an interval, which was allowed to elapse for fear of causing fresh sorrow, the Queen wrote to condole with Lord and Lady Norris on the ‘bitter accident’ which had deprived them of two more sons, and the survivor was ordered home from Holland to comfort them.

The army then marched by Croom to Bruff, whence Essex went with Ormonde, Blount, St. Leger, and Carew to consult the Lord President at Kilmallock. They agreed that there was no money, no magazine, no remnant of any kind of victual of her Majesty’s stores, cows enough for only two days, and hardly ammunition for three. On Norris promising to procure some beeves out of Lord Barry’s country and to send them to Conna the advance was resumed, the line of march being over the Ballyhoura hills to Glanworth and Fermoy. Essex himself went to Mallow, detached a party to Cork for the promised supplies, and then rejoined the army with Cormac MacDermot MacCarthy, who brought 100 cows and 200 kerne. There was some fighting, and Sir Henry Danvers was wounded between Fermoy and Conna; but the latter castle was dismantled. Lord Barry brought the convoy safely to Castle Lyons, and the Blackwater was passed at Affane, a ford which was only practicable for one hour at low water. The President returned from the neighbourhood of Dungarvan with 1,000 men, with which he expected to be able to maintain the war in his province, and Essex marched without fighting through Lord Power’s country to Waterford.[314]

Defeat of Harrington in Wicklow.

In pursuance of his original intention to settle Leinster before going further afield, Essex had proposed to give Sir Henry Harrington, seneschal of Wicklow, 700 foot and 50 horse, 300 of these to be seasoned soldiers. His sudden resolution to attack Munster altered this, and the work was left to ‘four new companies and Captain Adam Loftus, his company of foot, who were all Irish and most of them lately come from the rebels; myself,’ Harrington plaintively adds, ‘without either horse or foot, or any penny of entertainment.’ The O’Byrnes had fortified the passage of the Avonmore near Rathdrum, and, in order to accustom his troops to the presence of an enemy, Harrington led them out several miles and encamped near the river. This was on May 28, when Essex was before Cahir. Phelim MacHugh sent peaceful messages to Harrington, which can have had no object but to disarm his suspicion. Next morning the Irish were in considerable force, and, after reconnoitring, the seneschal ordered a return to Wicklow. The enemy pressed on his rear and hung on his flanks, the ground being for the most part bush, wood, and bog. A stream which crossed the road was safely forded, but some signs of insubordination appeared in Loftus’s company, which was explained by an attempt on the part of his subalterns to gain over some of the hostile kerne who had formerly fought on the Queen’s side. If this was a stratagem on the part of the O’Byrnes it was completely successful. Loftus did his best in the rear, the post of danger in a retreat, but received a wound from which he afterwards died. His men immediately ran away, and, although no one pursued, never stopped till they got to Wicklow. The Irish then charged down the road, and the main body of infantry behaved no better. ‘I persuaded them,’ says Captain Atherton, ‘but to turn their faces and it should be sufficient for their safety, but they never offered to turn, nor speak, but, as men without sense or feeling, ran upon one another’s backs, it not being possible to break by reason of the captains, which endeavoured by all means to stay them, but all in vain.’ As soon as the ground allowed them, the soldiers broke in all directions, throwing away their arms and even their clothes. Captain Charles Montague, who had already done such good service at Blackwater, handled his troop of horse well, and, though wounded in several places, brought off all the colours, and covered the retreat of the few foot soldiers who retained any kind of order. Captain Wardman was killed, and this was the end of Essex’s great scheme for the settlement of Leinster.[315]

Essex returns to Dublin,

At Waterford, the Lord-Lieutenant was ‘received with two Latin orations, and with as much joyful concourse of people as any other town of Ireland.’ He inspected the fort of Duncannon, and Harrington, who amused himself in country quarters by reading books on fortification, and who hoped at coming home to talk of ‘counterscarps and casemates,’ shoots his wit at the expense of Sir John Norris in his capacity of engineer. Stripped of technicalities and Italian terms of art, the criticism is that the fort was too confined, and that it was commanded from the land side. The wit forgot that Irish rebels had no artillery, and did not notice that the course of the channel forced all ships of any size to come close under the walls. Against a Parma or a Spinola the defences would have availed little, but after-events proved that Duncannon was an important post in Irish warfare. Boats were brought from Carrick and New Ross, and the army was ferried over from Passage to Ballyhack. This proved a long operation, ‘the boats not being great, and the carriage of our army far greater than ever heretofore in this country followed so few fighting men,’ in which statement the reason of Essex’s failure is perhaps contained. The line of march lay by Ballibrennan to a ford over the Slaney, between Enniscorthy and Ferns. The direct road to Dublin was by Carnew, but the Duffry was a land of woods and hills, swarming with rebels and practicable only for a fighting force; whereas Essex could muster no more than 1,200 effective men, clogged with hurt and sick, and ‘with at least thrice as many churls, horseboys, and other like unserviceable people which were of necessity to be guarded.’ It was, therefore, determined to go by the coast, and no enemy appeared until Gorey had been passed. From this, villages and houses were burned on both sides of the road ‘to whet the rebels choler and courage,’ who made a stand at a river four miles south of Arklow.

Essex himself passed the deep water with his horse, and Ormonde led the rest of the army over a better ford near the seaside. The Irish, who were about 1,000 strong, did not venture to close, but skirmished on the left flank, the broken ground being too far off for them to do much harm. Captain Lawrence Esmond was, however, killed. Essex endeavoured to draw the enemy down by masking a part of his force, but the natives, as Harrington observes, were not easily to be drawn into an ambuscade. Ormonde and Blount, with the head of the column, advanced to the seaside, hidden from the others by the shape of the ground. The Irish, being on the height, saw their advantage, and very nearly succeeded in cutting off the baggage train in the centre. A hard fight followed, and a charge of Southampton’s horse just saved the army from a great disaster. Several of his men were bogged and in great danger. Captain Constable escaped with two wounds, and Mr. Seth Cox, ‘a gentleman whose industry had adorned him with much both science and language’ was killed. Captain Roche, an Irishman by birth, who had long served the French king, had his leg shattered by a shot.

having effected nothing.

After some more fighting, the rebels were beaten off with the loss of 100 men. Donell Spaniagh, Phelim MacFeagh, and Owen MacRory were all present, and were willing to treat upon protection being granted. Essex sent word to Phelim that he might have a safe-conduct as far as Arklow if he would come and sue for mercy as a repentant rebel, but that a messenger sent for any other purpose would be hanged. Dublin was reached without further fighting, and the Irish annalists, with whom Harrington is in almost verbal agreement, may be left to sum up the results of the expedition. While the ‘army was in Munster,’ say the Four Masters, ‘the Geraldines continued to follow, pursue, and press upon them, to shoot at, wound, and slaughter them. When the Earl had arrived in the Decies, the Geraldines returned in exultation and high spirits to their territories and houses.... In Leinster they marched not by a prosperous progress, for the Irish were pursuing and environing them, so that they slew great numbers in every road by which they passed.... They said it would have been better for the Earl if he had not gone on this expedition, as he returned back without having received submission or respect from the Geraldines, and without having achieved any exploit worth boasting of, excepting only the taking of Cahir.[316]

Severity of Essex.

Essex lost no time in holding a court-martial on the officers and men of Harrington’s force. Piers Walsh, Loftus’s Irish lieutenant, who was certainly guilty of cowardice, and perhaps of treacherously communicating with the enemy, was shot; all, or nearly all, the soldiers, had run away; they were sentenced to be hanged, and were actually decimated. The other officers, ‘though they forsook not their places assigned them, but were forsaken by the soldiers, yet because in such an extremity they did not something very extraordinary... were all cashiered’ and imprisoned. Harrington himself, being a Privy Councillor, was not tried, but was placed under arrest during her Majesty’s pleasure. His thirty years’ service were not forgotten in England, and he soon returned to his duty. The decimation was not approved of, and Wotton notes it as a piece of Roman discipline, and as an instance of Essex’s tendency to severity. On the voyage to the Azores he had thrown a soldier overboard with his own hands.[317]

Dissatisfaction of Elizabeth.

Instead of settling Leinster as announced, the Lord Lieutenant had only succeeded in getting rid of his army. ‘The poor men,’ he wrote, ‘that marched eight weeks together be very weary, and the horsemen so divided that I cannot draw 300 to a head.’ And still he promised to overthrow Tyrone, or be himself slain, if he could find him ‘on hard ground and in an open country,’ which he was as little likely to do as Glendower was to draw spirits from the vasty deep. There had been sharp letters about his making Southampton general of the horse. His commission gave him power to do this, but the Queen had expressed her personal repugnance to such promotion. She disliked the formation of what, in later Irish history, has been called ‘a family party.’ Blount was Essex’s stepfather, though about his own age, and Southampton had without leave married his cousin, Elizabeth Vernon, who was a maid of honour. Essex tried to maintain the appointment against the Queen’s will, mainly on the ground that no volunteer would adhere to him when thus discountenanced; but Elizabeth said she did not see that Southampton’s counsel or experience could be of any particular value, and refused to believe that ‘the voluntary gentlemen are so discouraged thereby as they begin to desire passports and prepare to return.’ The Lord-Lieutenant had to submit, and Southampton continued to serve as a volunteer. The account rendered for two months showed no great balance in the Queen’s favour, and it is evident that she thought pretty much as the Irish did about the futility of the Munster journey. He had, she said, ‘brought in never a capital rebel, against whom it had been worthy to have adventured 1,000 men; for of these two comings in that were brought unto you by Ormonde (namely, Mountgarret and Cahir), whereupon ensued the taking of Cahir Castle, full well do we know that you would long since have scorned to have allowed it for any great matter in others to have taken an Irish hold from a rabble of rogues with such force as you had, and with the help of the cannon, which was always able in Ireland to make his passage where it pleased.’[318]

Essex on his defence.

Before the end of May Cecil knew that Essex intended to visit Munster, so as to make things safe there before going to the North, and he expresses no opinion on the subject. But the Queen soon grew uneasy, and complained that she was giving the Earl 1,000l. a day to make progresses with. When the results of two months’ expenditure were known, her indignation burst forth. Nothing had been done but what President Norris might have done as well, and she was especially displeased ‘that it must be the Queen of England’s fortune (who hath held down the greatest enemy she had) to make a base Irish kerne to be accounted so famous a rebel.’ Ireland was in a state worse than that in which Ormonde had left it, and Tyrone was announcing to continental nations ‘defeats of regiments, deaths of captains, and loss of men of quality in every corner.’ Essex entrusted regiments to young gentlemen, and made such a fuss that the rebels were always fully prepared. This was just criticism, and indeed the Earl’s own story tallies with it. He provides the excuse also, but he had only found out what was known to hundreds of officers who had served in Ireland. The rebels, he said, were much more numerous than the soldiers, and for light warfare they were both naturally more active and better trained to fight. The Queen’s gallant officers and gentlemen of quality did more good than all the rest, and the real difficulty was to restrain their ardour, whereas the rebel leaders ‘dare never put themselves to any hazard, but send their kerne and their hirelings to fight with her Majesty’s troops.’ English officers with cavalry could always win in the open, and towns were in no danger; but in bogs and woods he was loth to ‘wager the lives of noblemen and gentlemen against rogues and naked beggars.’

These were the commonplaces of Irish warfare since Surrey’s and Skeffington’s days, and Essex was learning his lesson at an enormous cost.[319]

Campaign in Leix and Offaly.

The Lord-Lieutenant was ill, of the malady which nearly proved fatal in the following year, and the results of overwork and failure were not lessened by rebukes from the Queen. An intended expedition into Leix and Offaly was noticed by her as unworthy of his rank, but yet he determined to go. Blount was first sent to victual Maryborough, and the sergeant-major to Philipstown. Captain William Williams commanded at the latter place, and he had just lost 60 men by allowing them to fall into an ambuscade. There was no difficulty in relieving the forts, but when Essex himself followed, he had some sharp fighting on the border of Westmeath. The Irish were commanded by Captain Tyrrell, a noted English or Anglo-Irish partisan in Tyrone’s pay, who always kept 200 men with him. In days long gone by, the Anglo-Norman Tyrrells had driven the O’Dooleys from Fartullagh, and now they were in arms against the Queen of England’s representative. Sir Conyers Clifford came from Connaught, to meet the Lord-Lieutenant, and his horsemen fought bravely on foot in a country where there was no place for cavalry. ‘In all this journey,’ says Harrington, who came with the Connaught troops, ‘I was comrade to the Earl of Kildare, and slept both on one pillow every night for the most part; here at the parting, my lord gave Sir Griffin Markham great commendations, and made him colonel and commander of all the horse in Connaught; and gave me and some others the honour of knighthood in the field.’

Clifford lost many men before effecting the juncture, and yet the natives were so completely surprised that they had no time even to hide their children. Many hundred cows were taken, but the result of the expedition was that Essex returned to Dublin and Clifford to Connaught.[320]

Anger of Elizabeth.

The cheap defence of nations.

At the beginning of August, the Irish Council demanded 2,000 fresh men for the expedition to the North, but before an answer came, they declared that nothing could be done for the year. It is difficult to say how far this inconsistency was caused by the fluctuations of Essex’s own temper, but it was clear that he did not inspire confidence. The Queen granted the reinforcements, while severely criticising the conduct of both Lord-Lieutenant and Council. She had been repeatedly told, and could very well believe, that a garrison at Lough Foyle was the chief thing needful. ‘We doubt not,’ she said, ‘but to hear by the next that it is begun and not in question.’ In the meantime the garrisons in Connaught and Munster and in the midland forts seemed scarcely able to maintain themselves. ‘We can hope of no success,’ she said sarcastically, ‘than to be able to keep our towns which were never lost, and some petty holds of small importance, with more than three parts of our army, it being decreed for the head of the rebellion, that our forces shall not find our way this year to behold him.’ She could not understand how no more than 5,000 men were available, instead of at least double that number; and, indeed, it is not easy to understand even now. And there were other things to make her angry. Essex had been specially ordered to make no knights except for some striking service, and he now made no less than fifty-nine, without having anything to show for it. The court news-writer, from whom we learn so much, notes that he had begun by dozens and scores, and had now fallen to ‘huddle them up by half-hundreds; and it is noted as a strange thing, that a subject, in the course of seven or eight years, should, upon so little service and small desert, make more knights than in all the realm besides; and it is doubted, that if he continues this course, he will shortly bring in tag and rag, cut and long-tail, and so bring the order into contempt.’[321]

Defeat of Sir Conyers Clifford (August).

Death of Clifford.

It may be doubtful whether Essex intended again to take the dilatory advice of his Council, or whether he would have been stung into action by the Queen’s taunts. A great disaster seems to have finally determined him, though it should probably have had the contrary effect. O’Connor Sligo had been with Essex in Munster, whence he returned to Collooney, the only castle which he had preserved from O’Donnell, and where he was at once beleaguered by him. Essex ordered Clifford to relieve him and to occupy Sligo, by which means he hoped to distract Tyrone’s attention. Clifford, with a force of something under 2,000 men, went to Boyle, and, in spite of the Lord Lieutenant’s caution against over-confidence, resolved to pass the Curlew mountains without resting his men, after two days’ march in the hot harvest weather. He does not seem to have expected any opposition, but O’Donnell had been watching the pass for weeks, and had given orders that the army should be allowed to get well on to the mountain before they were attacked. The Irish scouts saw them leave the abbey of Boyle, so that there was plenty of time for O’Donnell to bring up his forces. On arriving at the narrowest part of the pass between Boyle and Ballinafad, Clifford found it strongly defended by a breastwork, and held by 400 men, who fired a volley, and then fell back. The road up the mountain, which consisted of ‘stones six or seven foot broad, lying above ground, with plashes of bog between them,’ ran through boggy woods, from which the Irish galled the soldiers, who exhausted their powder with little effect. Sir Alexander Radclyffe, commanding the advance guard, was mortally wounded, and as no reinforcement came up, a panic ensued, and the whole array were driven pell-mell back to Boyle. Sir John Mac Swiney, an Irish officer in the Queen’s service, faced the enemy almost alone, cursing the vileness of his men, and ‘died fighting, leaving the example of his virtue to be intituled by all honourable posterities.’ Only the horse under Sir Griffin Markham behaved well, covering the retreat and charging boldly up hill ‘among rocks and bogs, where never horse was seen to charge before.’ Markham had his arm broken by a shot, and Sir Conyers Clifford was killed while trying to rally his men. Harrington thought the imagination of the soldiers was bewitched, and cites the extraordinary escape of Rory Oge from his cousin Sir Henry in 1577, when they thought ‘he had, by magic, compelled them not to touch him’; but this panic is easily explained by the moral effect of recent defeats. So far as Ireland went, people were losing their faith in Elizabeth’s star.[322]

Effects of this disaster.

O’Rourke, who remained in possession of the field, cut off Clifford’s head and sent it to O’Donnell, and MacDermot, in a letter which Harrington very justly characterised as ‘barbarous for the Latin, but civil for the sense,’ announced that, for the love he bore the governor, he had carried his headless trunk to the neighbouring monastery of Lough Cé. He was ready to exchange it for his own prisoners or to give it decent burial himself, and he would offer no obstacle to the burial of other officers. ‘The Irish of Connaught,’ say the Four Masters, ‘were not pleased at the Governor’s death, for he had been a bestower of jewels and riches upon them, and he had never told them a falsehood.’ The same authorities say the Irish did not attribute their victory to arms, but to the miracle of the Lord and to the special intercession of the Blessed Mary. Nor was superstition confined to the victorious party, for not only did the English soldiers talk of magic, but Clifford himself was said to have prophetically dreamed of his capture by O’Donnell, and of being carried by monks into their convent. The defeat was particularly disastrous, because Clifford’s troops were not raw recruits, as Harrington’s had been. Essex determined to employ them no more, except to defend walls. The immediate result of the battle was that O’Connor Sligo submitted to Tyrone, and became a loyal subject of the real king of Ireland.[323]

A council of war decides to do nothing.

Essex’s first and natural impulse was ‘to revenge or follow worthy Conyers Clifford,’ but others thought that very little could be done. In early spring it had been decided to wait till the summer, and now in harvest-time the season for fighting was considered to be past. Again the General placed his fate in the hands of a council of war, and again his advisers resolved to do nothing. ‘The Lords, Colonels, and Knights of the army,’ as they style themselves, declared that there were less than 4,000 men available for a campaign, that many soldiers deserted to the rebels, ran away to England, feigned sickness, or hid themselves. The uniform ill-success of the Queen’s army had lately been such that her troops had no heart for the Ulster enterprise, and it was certain that they would be greatly outnumbered by the rebels. ‘The Connaught army consisting of a great part of old companies being lately defeated,’ there was no chance of establishing a post at Lough Foyle, and in any case there were not men enough to garrison it, and the same would apply still more strongly to Armagh and Blackwater, whither provisions could not be brought by sea. For these reasons, and being thoroughly aware of the state of the army, the officers declared against any journey far north. ‘In which resolution,’ they say, ‘if any man suspected it proceeded of weakness or baseness, we will not only in all likely and profitable service disprove him, but will every one of us deal with his life, that we dissuaded this undertaking with more duty than any man could persuade unto it.’ The Queen was very angry with the Lord Lieutenant for calling in ‘so many of those that are of so slender judgment, and none of our council,’ to keep men from censuring his proceedings, and there can be little doubt that it was a weak device to shift the responsibility. Seven days after the officers’ declaration, Essex left Dublin, resolved to go as far and do as much ‘as duty would warrant, and God enable him.’ This meant that he would fight Tyrone if the arch-rebel would forego his advantage of position and come out to battle. ‘If he have as much courage as he pretendeth, we will, on one side or the other, end the war.’ He had come to see that the ‘beating of Tyrone in the field’ depended upon the good pleasure of that chief, and it would have been well for his fame had he mastered that elementary truth before he undertook to censure better soldiers and wiser men than himself.[324]

Essex goes to the north.

Tyrone in sight.

Essex left Dublin on August 28, with the intention of placing a garrison at Donaghmoyne in Farney. That land of lakes and hills was his own inheritance by the Queen’s patent to his father, and he may have had some idea of securing his own as well as of annoying Tyrone. He travelled through Navan and Kells, and at Castle Keran, beyond the latter town, he mustered an army of 3,700 foot and 300 horse. But the idea of establishing an outpost either in Monaghan or Cavan was quickly abandoned for three reasons, any of which would have been ample by itself. It was not worth doing, since there was nothing to defend beyond Kells. It could not be done, because it would be impossible to bring provisions on horseback from Drogheda. Last and not least, Tyrone was in Farney, ready to burn the Pale up to Dublin gates as soon as the Lord Lieutenant’s rearguard had passed. It was resolved that Kells should be the frontier garrison, and the army marched to Ardee. The camp was so placed that Tyrone’s could be seen on the other side of the Lagan, and there was some small skirmishing when a party was sent down to cut firewood near the river. Next day Essex advanced to the Mills of Louth, and encamped on the left bank of the Lagan. Tyrone made a flank march at the same time, and the two armies were quite close together, the Irish keeping the woods, though 10,000 or 11,000 strong. Sir William Warren, who was used to treating with Tyrone, went to seek the enlargement of a prisoner, and next day Henry O’Hagan came to ask for a parley. ‘If thy master,’ Essex is reported to have said, ‘have any confidence either in the justness of his cause, or in the goodness and number of his men, or in his own virtue, of all which he vainly glorieth, he will meet me in the field so far advanced before the head of his kerne as myself shall be separated from the front of my troops, where we will parley in that fashion which best becomes soldiers.’ Vainglory there was, but rather upon the challenger’s own side; it was as a general, and not as a champion, that Elizabeth had sent her favourite to Ireland.[325]

Essex meets Tyrone,

and retires without fighting.

Next day Essex offered battle, which of course was refused by the enemy, but Tyrone again sent to desire a parley. A garrison was placed at Newrath near the mill of Louth, and on the following day the army marched towards Drumcondra. They had scarcely gone a mile when O’Hagan came again, and ‘speaking,’ like Rabshakeh, ‘so loud as all might hear that were present,’ announced that Tyrone ‘desired her Majesty’s mercy, and that the Lord Lieutenant would hear him; which, if his lordship agreed to, he would gallop about and meet him at the ford of Bellaclinthe, which was on the right hand by the way which his lordship took to Drumcondra.’ Essex sent two officers to see the place, who reported that the ford was too wide for the purpose; but Tyrone, who knew the ground, found a spot ‘where he, standing up to his horse’s belly, might be near enough to be heard by the Lord Lieutenant, though he kept to the hard ground.... Seeing Tyrone there alone, his lordship went down alone. At whose coming Tyrone saluted his lordship with much reverence, and they talked above half-an-hour together, and after went either of them to their companies on the hills.’ Of all the foolish things Essex ever did, this was the most foolish. By conversing with the arch-rebel without witnesses he left it open to his enemies to put the worst construction on all he did, and he put it out of his own power to offer any valid defence. Two days before he had declared war to the knife, and now he was ready to talk familiarly with his enemy, and practically to concede all without striking a blow. A more formal meeting followed with six witnesses on each side. Tyrone’s were his brother Cormac MacBaron, Magennis, Maguire, Ever MacCowley, Henry Ovington, and Richard Owen, ‘that came from Spain, but is an Irishman by birth.’ Southampton, St. Leger, and four other officers of rank accompanied the Lord Lieutenant. By way of humility, the Irish party rode into the river, ‘almost to their horse’s bellies,’ while Essex and his followers kept on the bank. Tyrone spoke uncovered, saluting the viceregal party ‘with a great deal of respect,’ and it was arranged that a further conference should take place next morning. Essex continued his march to Drumcondra, but Tyrone came himself to the place of meeting—a ford where the Lagan bridge now stands. Wotton was one of the commissioners on the Lord Lieutenant’s part, and it is not likely that the negotiation suffered in his hands. He was chosen as the fittest person ‘to counterpoise the sharpness of Henry Ovington’s wit.’ The result was a cessation of arms for six weeks to six weeks until May, either side being at liberty to break it on giving fourteen days’ notice. If any of Tyrone’s allies refused to be bound, the Lord Lieutenant was left at liberty to attack them. To save Essex’s honour it was agreed to that his ratification should be by word simply, but that Tyrone’s should be on oath. Next day the Lord Lieutenant went to take physic at Drogheda, and Tyrone retired with all his forces into the heart of his country, having gained without fighting a greater victory than that of the Yellow Ford. Bagenal was defeated, the Earl of Essex was disgraced; one had lost his life, the other his reputation.[326]

The Queen blames Essex severely,

and he leaves Ireland without leave.

‘If these wars end by treaty,’ Wotton had said on his first arrival, ‘the Earl of Tyrone must be very humble.’ But the wars were ended so far as Essex was concerned, and the rebels had conceded nothing. A week before his meeting with Tyrone, Essex had written to the Queen, warning her to expect nothing from a man weary of life, whose past services had been requited by ‘banishment and proscription into the most cursed of all countries,’ and almost suggesting that he meditated suicide as the only means of escape. Nor were Elizabeth’s letters such as to encourage him. He had disappointed the world’s expectation, and his actions had been contrary to her orders, ‘though carried in such sort as we were sure to have no time to countermand them.’ ‘Before your departure,’ she wrote, ‘no man’s counsel was held sound which persuaded not presently the main prosecution in Ulster; all was nothing without that, and nothing was too much for that.’ An army and a summer had been wasted, and nothing had been done. The only way of accounting for the way in which the available troops had dwindled from 19,000 to less than 4,000 was by supposing that he had dispersed them in unnecessary garrisons, ‘especially since, by your continual report of the state of every province, you describe them all to be in worse condition than ever they were before you put foot in that kingdom.’ He had condemned all his predecessors, he had had everything he asked for, and he had done worse than anyone. Two days after the despatch of this letter Elizabeth received the account of the truce with Tyrone, which she promptly characterised as the ‘quick end made of a slow proceeding.’ She had never doubted that Tyrone would be ready to parley ‘specially with our supreme general of the kingdom, having often done it with those of subaltern authority; always seeking these cessations with like words, like protestations.’ She blamed Essex severely for his private interview—not, she was careful to say, that she suspected treason; ‘yet both for comeliness, example, and your own discharge, we marvel you would carry it no better.’ He had neglected her orders and sheltered himself systematically behind a council which had already wrapped Ireland in calamities. If she had intended to leave all to them, it was ‘very superfluous to have sent over such a personage as yourself.’ His despatches were as meagre as his actions, and he had told her nothing of what passed between him and Tyrone, nor of his instructions to the commissioners, so that ‘we cannot tell, but by divination, what to think may be the issue of this proceeding... to trust this traitor upon oath is to trust a devil upon his religion. To trust him upon pledges is a mere illusory... unless he yield to have garrisons planted in his own country to master him, and to come over to us personally here.’ The letter concluded with a positive order not to ratify the truce, nor to grant a pardon without further authority from herself, ‘after he had particularly advised by writing.’ One week after the date of the letter Essex left Ireland, in spite of the most stringent orders not to do so without a special warrant.[327]

The O’Neill in his hold.

Some account of Tyrone, as he appeared among his own people near Dunkalk, has been fortunately preserved in a letter from Sir John Harrington, who was at once a keen observer and a lively writer, and who had already seen him at Ormonde’s house in London. Tyrone apologised for not remembering him personally, and said that the troubles had made him almost forget his friends. While the Earl was in private conversation with Sir William Warren, Harrington amused himself by ‘posing his two sons in their learning, and their tutors, which were one Friar Nangle, a Franciscan, and a younger scholar, whose name I know not; and finding the two children of good towardly spirit, their age between thirteen and fifteen, in English clothes like a nobleman’s sons; with velvet jerkins and gold lace; of a good cheerful aspect, freckle-faced, not tall of stature, but strong and well-set; both of them speaking the English tongue; I gave them (not without the advice of Sir William Warren) my English translation of Ariosto, which I got at Dublin; which their teachers took very thankfully, and soon after shewed it to the Earl, who called to see it openly, and would needs hear some part of it read. I turned (as it had been by chance) to the beginning of the forty-fifth canto, and some other passages of the book, which he seemed to like so well that he solemnly swore his boys should read all the book over to him.’ Harrington was not insensible to flattery of this sort, for he has recorded the reception of his work at Galway and its soothing effect upon ‘a great lady, a young lady, and a fair lady’ who had been jilted by Sir Calisthenes Brooke; but it did not prevent him from afterwards calling Tyrone a damnable rebel. It was O’Neill’s cue to speak fairly, and he took occasion to say that he had seen his visitor’s cousin, Sir Henry, in the field, and that he must have been wrongly accused of misconduct in the fight near Wicklow. Tyrone deplored his ‘own hard life,’ comparing himself to wolves, that ‘fill their bellies sometimes, and fast as long for it;’ but he was merry at dinner, and seemed rather pleased when Harrington worsted one of his priests in an argument. ‘There were fern tables and fern forms, spread under the stately canopy of heaven. His guard for the most part were beardless boys without shirts, who, in the frost, wade as familiarly through rivers as water-spaniels. With what charms such a master makes them love him I know not; but if he bid come, they come; if go, they do go; if he say do this, they do it.’ He made peaceable professions, and spoke much about freedom of conscience; but Harrington perceived that his only object was to temporise, and ‘one pretty thing I noted, that the paper being drawn for him to sign, and his signing it with O’Neill, Sir William (though with very great difficulty) made him to new write it and subscribe Hugh Tyrone.’[328]

Essex deserts his post (September).

His reception at Court.

The only possible excuse for Essex’s leaving Ireland against orders was the Queen’s last direction to ‘advise by writing’ the progress of his negotiations with Tyrone. He had given a promise—a foolish and rash promise—that he would ‘only verbally deliver’ the conditions demanded by the arch-rebel. A letter to Sir John Norris had been sent into Spain, and Tyrone refused to open his heart if writing was to be used. Essex could, however, refer to the instructions given by him to Warren, and in any case he might have waited until her Majesty had expressed her opinion as to his promise of secrecy. After all, the most probable supposition is that he was sick of Ireland, that he felt his own failure, and that he hoped to reassert over the Queen that power which absence had so evidently weakened. He swore in Archbishop Loftus and Sir George Carey as Lords Justices, Ormonde remaining in command of the army under his old commission, and charged them all to keep the cessation precisely, but to stand on their guard and to have all garrisons fully victualled for six months. He sailed the same day, and travelled post, with the evident intention of himself announcing his departure from Ireland. Having embarked on the 24th, he reached London very early on the 28th, hurried to the ferry between Westminster and Lambeth, and appropriated the horses which he found waiting there. Lord Grey de Wilton, who had not forgiven his arrest, was in front, and it was proposed by Sir Thomas Gerrard that he should let the Earl pass him. ‘Doth he desire it?’ said Lord Grey. ‘No,’ was the answer, ‘nor will he, I think, ask anything at your hands.’ ‘Then,’ said his lordship, ‘I have business at Court.’ He hurried on to Nonsuch, and went straight to Cecil.[329] Essex arrived only a quarter of an hour later, and although ‘so full of dirt and mire that his very face was full of it,’ made his way at once to the Queen’s bedchamber. It was ten o’clock, and Elizabeth was an early riser, but on this occasion she was ‘newly up, the hair about her face.’ He fell on his knees and kissed her hands, and the goodness of his reception was inferred from his own words that, ‘though he had suffered much trouble and storm abroad, he found a sweet calm at home.’ He dressed, and at eleven had another audience, which lasted an hour. Still all went well. The Queen was gracious, and the courtiers as yet saw no reason to stand aloof; but Cecil and his friends were thought to be rather cold. Elizabeth was evidently glad to see her favourite, and for a moment forgot his real position. The first meeting of the Privy Council dispelled the illusion, and on the 1st of October he was committed to the custody of Lord-Keeper Egerton.[330]

Negotiations with Tyrone (October and November).

It was very uncertain as to what would be the consequences of Essex’s escapade, and those who were left in charge could only temporise as best they might. In about two months Sir William Warren had three separate parleys with Tyrone, and in each case it was the English diplomatist that urged a continuance of the cessation of arms. Tyrone, who had his immediate followers extraordinarily well in hand, seems to have kept the truce, and he had reasons to complain of injuries done him by the English party. In the paralysis of government outrage upon the borders could scarcely be avoided, and Tyrone’s allies were less steady than himself. ‘In all the speeches,’ Warren wrote, ‘passed between him and me, he seemed to stand chiefly upon a general liberty of religion throughout the kingdom. I wished him to demand some other thing reasonable to be had from her Majesty, for I told him that I thought her Majesty would no more yield to that demand than she would give her crown from her head.’ Warren laughed at a letter addressed to Lord O’Neill Chief Lieutenant of Ireland. ‘I asked him,’ he says, ‘to whom the devil he could be Lieutenant. He answered me, Why should I not be a Lieutenant as well as the Earl of Ormonde.’ The reasoning is not very clear, and it seems at least probable that many regarded him as the Pope’s viceroy. In making James Fitzthomas an earl he had greatly exceeded even the most ample viceregal powers. From the meeting with Essex to the date at which he resolved to begin fighting again, his official letters are signed Hugh Tyrone, but on November 8 he gave Warren fourteen days’ notice to conclude the truce, on the ground of injuries done him by Thomond and Clanricarde. That letter and those succeeding it, with one significant exception, he signs as O’Neill. In repeating the notice to Ormonde he says, ‘I wish you command your secretary to be more discreet and to use the word Traitor as seldom as he may. By chiding there is little gotten at my hands, and they that are joined with me fight for the Catholic religion, and liberties of our country, the which I protest before God is my whole intention.’ In all these negotiations Tyrone professes to rely entirely upon Essex to see justice done, and declares war ‘first of all for having seven score of my men killed by the Earl of Ormonde in time of cessation, besides divers others of the Geraldines, who were slain by the Earl of Kildare. Another cause is because I made my agreement only with your lordship, in whom I had my only confidence, who, as I am given to understand, is now restrained from your liberty, for what cause I know not.’ And this letter, being intended for English consumption, is signed Hugh Tyrone. Immediately after writing it he again took the field.[331]

Amount of blame imputable to Essex.

‘The conditions demanded by Tyrone,’ says Essex himself, ‘I was fain to give my word that I would only verbally deliver.’ The consequence was that there is not and cannot be any absolutely authentic statement of those conditions. There is, however, a paper printed in a collection of repute, and immediately after one of Cecil’s letters, which professes to be a statement of ‘Tyrone’s Propositions, 1599.’ The Queen herself says that Essex, on his return, acquainted her with Tyrone’s offers, but in so confused a manner as could only be explained by supposing that ‘the short time of their conference made him not fully conceive the particular meaning of Tyrone in divers of those articles.’ What probably happened was that Tyrone talked big, and that when Essex came to think over it afterwards, he could not clearly distinguish between extreme claims which had been mentioned, and serious proposals which had been made. But the 16th article in ‘Tyrone’s Propositions’ is clearly not invented by the writer, who was probably hostile to Essex. It demands ‘that O’Neill, O’Donnell, Desmond, and their partakers, shall have such lands as their ancestors enjoyed 200 years ago.’ Whether Tyrone ever demanded any such thing is doubtful, but it is certain that this, or something very like it, was what Essex told the Queen. ‘Tyrone’s offers,’ she says, ‘are both full of scandal to our realm, and future peril in the State. What would become of all Munster, Leix, and Offaly, if all the ancient exiled rebels be restored to all that our laws and hereditary succession have bestowed upon us?’ And again, ‘we will not assent in other provinces [than Ulster] to the restitution of all traitors to their livings, or the displantation of our subjects that have spent their lives in the just defences of their possessions which they have taken and held from us or our ancestors.’ It is quite evident then that Essex actually laid before Elizabeth a proposal which involved the reversal of every attainder and the expropriation of all settlers upon forfeited lands. After this it hardly seems worth discussing matters of commerce, or proposals that Englishmen should be debarred from all preferment in Church and State in Ireland, while all statutes prejudicing the preferment of Irishmen in England should be repealed.’[332]

What Tyrone meant by ‘liberty of conscience.’

Liberty of conscience was what Tyrone continually asked for, but not what he or his friends were prepared to grant. He undertook generally to ‘plant the Catholic faith throughout Ireland,’ and when did Rome bear a rival near her throne? In a letter to the King of Spain he acknowledged his object to be the ‘extirpation of heresy,’ and recalcitrant chiefs were reminded that present ruin and eternal damnation would be their lot if they did not help to ‘erect the Catholic religion.’ Jesuits boasted that his victories had already made it impossible for Protestants to live in certain districts. Tyrone claimed personal inviolability for priests, and treated the imprisonment of one as a breach of the cessation. In the paper already discussed he is said to have demanded that the Catholic religion should be openly preached, the churches governed by the Pope, cathedrals restored, Irish priests released from prison and left free to come and go over sea, and that no Englishmen should be churchmen in Ireland. The article about the release of clerical prisoners is just such a coincidence as Paley would have urged in proof that ‘Tyrone’s Propositions’ form a genuine document. But here again it is probable that this was only laid before the Queen as Tyrone’s extreme claim, and that Essex gave her some reason to suppose that he would be satisfied with less. ‘For any other personal coming of himself,’ she wrote, ‘or constraint in religion, we can be content, for the first, that he may know he shall not be peremptorily concluded, and in the second that we leave to God, who knows best how to work his will in these things, by means more fit than violence, which doth rather obdurate than reform. And, therefore, as in that case he need not to dread us, so we intend not to bind ourselves further for his security than by our former course we have witnessed; who have not used rigour in that point, even when we might with more probability have forced others.’[333]