‘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.