Desmond did not deny that he had given meat and drink to some proclaimed traitors, but pleaded that Irish hospitality could scarcely do less, and that he had never helped them to do any harm. He maintained stiffly that he had authority to rule all Munster Geraldines, and to decide their causes without any regard to sheriffs. Sir Maurice Fitzgerald, evidence of whose tenure from the Crown was recorded in the Exchequer, protested energetically against this theory. A long list of outrages in Munster was charged against the Earl, and mention was made of a little friar who had been a messenger between him and the O’Neills, and who had been found begging in their camp after Shane’s death. Finding that the case was likely to go against them, and feeling that they were in the lion’s mouth, the Earl and his brother thought it wise to make a general surrender of all their lands into her Majesty’s hands; and Desmond even brought himself to beg that she would place a President and Council in Munster. So far as law went, Elizabeth now had Munster at her mercy, but she kept fast hold on her prisoners until time should declare how far the law coincided with the facts.[145]

Kildare. Oliver Sutton.

The leader of the Northern Geraldines, who had, perhaps, no fancy either for the Tower or for a renewed exile, had his accusers at this time, and later events tend to prove that they were not without justification. In 1534 it had been David Sutton, a Kildare gentleman of ancient race, who had led the attack on the ninth Earl of Kildare, and laid bare the many abuses of his rule. ‘The office of belling the cat,’ says a modern writer, ‘descended hereditarily to Oliver Sutton,’ who attacked his grandson and namesake. In 1565 he presented to the Queen articles containing matters of the gravest importance against Kildare. He had previously complained to Arnold, but that despotic proconsul was submissive to the Earl, and imprisoned the unfortunate reformer for sixteen weeks. In fear of his life, Sutton was obliged to quit his lands and to hide from the local tyrant’s rage in Dublin or England. Arnold was confessedly a reformer himself, and, except from partiality to Kildare, it is hard to see why he treated Sutton so harshly, while listening with excessive credulity to all Bermingham’s representations. Coyne and livery in their most oppressive forms and every kindred exaction were charged against the Earl. The bastard Geraldines and Keatings were supported by him, even when openly resisting the Queen’s troops. They boasted that the Earl, and not the English power, really defended the country, and that there would be no quiet until he became chief Governor. Pride of blood made them wish to enslave all others, and ‘the daily exclamations of the poor were right sorrowful to hear.’ The Queen, having heard Sutton herself and read his reports, sent him back to Ireland, of which Sidney had assumed the government, observing that they touched Kildare too directly, and that she was loth to believe evil of her cousin until it could be proved. Yet she was evidently strongly impressed, and gave orders for Sutton’s personal protection. The inquiry dragged on for more than two years, Sutton reiterating his charges and Kildare thwarting him in various ways. The Earl’s service, he said, had all been at the Queen’s expense, for he received the pay of 300 men, which he made the country support. Jobbing was universal, and no one was more concerned in maintaining the system than Kildare. Yet Sutton’s heart began to sink: he complained that he was too poor to strive with the powerful Earl, and that all his exertions had but served to excite his vengeance. He probably failed to prove his whole case, but Sidney was directed to make particular inquiry, and not to discourage Sutton. Yet he too was evidently prejudiced in the Earl’s favour, and recommended him for a garter. In this he relied on the authority of Henry VII., ‘who made his grandfather knight and wist full well what he did’—an ominous precedent and an argument unworthy of Sidney. Cecil evidently believed in Sutton, and begged Sidney to befriend him, even if in some degree deserving of blame. That he was not altogether ruined is shown by his appearance in 1571 as plaintiff in a successful Chancery suit; but he failed in making any serious impression on Kildare’s position.[146]

Sir Peter Carew.

It was at this critical period that the English Government thought fit to allow an enterprise, the success of which was enough to make the great mass of Irish and Anglo-Irish landlords shake in their shoes. The adventurer was Sir Peter Carew, of Mohuns Ottery in Devon, who, at the age of fifty-four, set himself a task more arduous than any which had yet occupied his stormy and eventful life.

His early life.

In his case it was more than commonly true that the boy was the father of the man. When only twelve the citizen of Exeter, with whom he lodged, pursued him during one of his many absences from school, and found him on the city walls. ‘Running to take him, the boy climbed upon the top of one of the highest garrets of a turret of the said wall, and would not for any request come down, saying, moreover, to his host that if he did press too fast upon him he would surely cast himself down headlong over the wall, "and then," saith he, "I shall break my neck, and thou shalt be hanged because thou makest me to leap down."’ His father was sent for, and ordered the boy to be led home in a leash. Afterwards he coupled him for some time to a hound. Further endeavours failed to make ‘young Peter to smell to a book, or to like of any schooling,’ and he was allowed to accompany a friend who had a post about the embassy at Paris, and who neglected him shamefully. He afterwards lived as a horse-boy in a French nobleman’s train, without any inquiry being made by his affectionate parents. While yet a boy he fought at the siege of Pavia, changed sides opportunely, and served Philibert of Orange till that prince’s death. The Princess, after a time, gave him a letter of recommendation to Henry VIII. ‘The young gentleman,’ says his biographer, ‘... rode to Mohuns Ottery, where his father dwelled, and understanding his father and mother to be within, went into the house without further delay, and finding them sitting together in a parlour, forthwith in most humble manner kneeled before them and asked their blessing, and therewith presented the Princess of Orange’s letters.... They were much astounded, ... but Sir William having read the Princess’s letters, and being persuaded that he was his son Peter, were not a little joyful, but received him with all gladness, and also welcomed the gentlemen, whom he and his wife entertained in the best manner they could.’

His adventures.

After this Carew was employed on every kind of service, in Scotland, Turkey, Italy, Flanders, France; his admirable mastery of the French language and his skill on horseback with the sword and with the lance making him everywhere remarkable. Henry VIII. helped him to a rich wife, but died before the marriage, which was celebrated on Edward VI.’s coronation day, when the bridegroom, as one of the six challengers, ‘like Ulysses in honour of his Penelope, wore her sleeve upon his head-piece, and acquitted himself very honourably.’ Like Ulysses, too, when he had gained his Penelope, Carew ‘could not rest from travel.’ He helped to put down the anti-Protestant rising in the West, and on the King’s death hastened to proclaim his Catholic sister. But life, either at Mohuns Ottery or at his wife’s place in Lincolnshire, was too safe and too dull for the old campaigner. He became involved in Wyatt’s conspiracy, and had to fly to Antwerp, where he was seized by Philip’s myrmidons, and had the adventure in Sir John Cheke’s company which has already been mentioned.

Carew in favour with Elizabeth.