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.