PROCLAMATION.
By the Lord Justices and Council:
“We do hereby make known to all men, as well good subjects as all others, that whoever he or they be that shall, betwixt this and the five-and-twentieth day of March next, kill and bring, or caused to be killed and brought to us, the Lord Justices, or other Chief-Governor or Governors, for the time being, the head of Sir Phelim O’Neill, or of Conn Magennis, or of Rory Maguire, or of Philip MacHugh MacShane O’Reilly, or of Collo MacBrien MacMahon, he or they shall have by way of reward, for every one of the said last persons, so by him to be killed, and his or their head or heads brought to us as followeth, viz: For the head of Sir Phelim O’Neill, one thousand pounds; for the head of the said Sir Rory Maguire, six hundred pounds; for the head of the said Philip MacHugh MacShane O’Reilly, six hundred pounds; for the head of the said Collo MacBrien MacMahon, six hundred pounds.”
Dublin Castle, Feb. 8, 1641.
John Rotherham,
F. Temple,
Chas. Coote.
“God save the King.”
Then, forty pounds a head were offered for the heads of some two hundred other chieftains, embracing men of nearly all the Milesian families of Ireland.
What wonder is it, if I look vexed occasionally when I meet with O’Farrells, and O’Briens, and O’Flahertys, and O’Gradys, and O’Mahonys, and O’Callaghans, and O’Byrnes, and O’Neills, and O’Reillys, and O’Keefes, O’Kanes and O’Connors, O’Crimmins, O’Hallarans, O’Flynns, O’Dwyers and O’Donnells, and O’Donovans and O’Kellys, O’Learys, O’Sheas, O’Rourkes, O’Murphys, Maguires, and McCarthys, and MacMahons and MacLaughlins, and other men of Irish stock, who will talk of having “honorable warfare” with England, for the freedom of Ireland. It is not from nature they speak so. It cannot be. There is nothing in their nature different from mine. I have heard men making excuses for me for being so mad against the English—saying it is on account of the harsh treatment I received from the English while I was in English prisons. That kind of talk is all trash of talk. What I am now, I was, before I ever saw the inside of an English prison. I am so from nature.
Before I was ever able to read a book, I heard stories of Irish women ripped open by English bayonets, and of Irish infants taken on the points of English bayonets and dashed against the walls; and I heard father and mother and neighbors rejoicing—“buidhechas le Dia!”—whenever they heard of an English landlord being shot in Tipperary or any other part of Ireland.
And as I grew up, and read books, didn’t I see and hear big men praying curses upon England and upon England’s land-robbers in Ireland. Didn’t John Mitchel say, that the mistake of it was, that more landlords were not shot! and didn’t he say that if he could grasp the fires of hell, he would seize them, and hurl them into the face of his country’s enemy! Didn’t Thomas Davis pray: “May God wither up their hearts; may their blood cease to flow; may they walk in living death; they, who poisoned Owen Roe!” Didn’t Thomas Moore tell us to flesh “every sword to the hilt” into their bodies! Didn’t J. J. Callanan pray “May the hearthstone of hell be their best bed forever!” Didn’t Daniel McCarthy-Sowney pray: “Go raibh gadhair-fhiadh Ifrion a rith a ndiadh ’n anam air Innse shocuir, gan toortog!” and “go gcuireadth Dia cioth sparabli a gcoin naibh a n-anam!”