and is completely defeated.
It had been arranged that the camp should be attacked at midnight, and that the besieged should make a sally upon the trenches at the same time. Forewarned as he was, Mountjoy might have found it hard to resist such a combined onset, but there were other reasons for the failure of his assailants. ‘The chiefs,’ say the Irish annalists, ‘were at variance, each of them contending that he himself should go foremost in the night’s attack, so that they set out from their camp in three strong battalions, shoulder to shoulder, and elbow to elbow. O’Neill with the Kinel-Owen and others were in a strong battalion apart; O’Donnell, with the Kinel-Connell, his sub-chieftains, and the Connaught men in general, formed the second battalion; those gentlemen of Munster, Leinster, and Meath, with their forces, who had risen up in the confederacy of the Irish war, and who had been in banishment in Ulster during the preceding part of this year, were in the third.’ Misled by his guides, O’Donnell wandered about all night, and when morning broke, Tyrone with O’Sullivan and the Spaniards found themselves close to the English lines and unsupported. It is very difficult to understand the plan of attack. Mountjoy’s information was to the effect that the Castle Haven Spaniards, with 800 Irish under Tyrrell, intended to throw themselves into the town, join the garrison, and renew the combined attack on the following night with every chance of success. What really happened was that the Irish fell into confusion on finding themselves suddenly faced by a well-prepared enemy. Intending a surprise, they were surprised themselves. Tyrone drew off his horse to re-form them, and the foot, supposing him to be flying, began to waver on all sides. O’Donnell came up at this time, but all the endeavours of the chiefs were vain, for the ground was flat and open, and there was no scope for O’Neill’s tactics. Seeing the enemy in disarray, though still unbroken, Wingfield obtained leave to act on the offensive, and Clanricarde importuned him not to lose this chance. Tyrrell and the Spaniards stood firm, and the English horse passed between them and Tyrone’s main body. A small bog had to be passed, but the troopers struggled through it, and but little resistance was offered. ‘All,’ says O’Sullivan, ‘were seized with panic terror, or rather routed by divine vengeance.’ The Spaniards, who were less fleet of foot than their allies, made a stand about the ruins of an old castle, but were cut to pieces. Their leader, Alonso del Campo, was taken and five other officers killed. The Irish lost something like 2,000 men, while on the English side there was but one fatal casualty.[390]
Utter rout of the Irish.
O’Donnell flies to Spain.
Disastrous retreat.
‘The Earl of Clanricarde,’ says Mountjoy, ‘had many fair escapes, being shot through his garments, and no man did bloody his sword more than his lordship that day, and would not suffer any man to take any of the Irish prisoners, but bid them kill the rebels.’ He despatched a score at least with his own hand, and the Lord-Deputy knighted him on the field among the dead bodies, some of which were probably those of his kinsmen. The pursuit continued for two miles, and the slaughter must have been much greater but that the half-starved horses could go no farther. The whole army was paraded, and public thanksgiving was offered for the victory. Indeed, both sides spoke of a special interposition of Providence, and old prophecies were remembered or invented to suit the occasion. Greatly dejected, Tyrone withdrew to Innishannon, and no further attempt was made to relieve Kinsale. ‘There prevailed,’ say the annalists, ‘much reproach on reproach, moaning and dejection, melancholy and anguish, in every quarter throughout the camp. They slept not soundly, and scarcely did they take any refreshment.’ Next day it was decided that O’Donnell and others should go to Spain, and that his brother Rory with the rest of the Ulster chiefs should go home, Tyrrell and some of the Burkes remaining in Munster under the general command of O’Sullivan Bere. With a shrewd knowledge of Irish politics O’Donnell urged that the whole army should remain in the south until he could bring fresh reinforcements from Spain, for that those who had been affectionate and kind to them when advancing, would plunder and mock them on their return. Tyrone was perhaps ready to renew the conflict in Munster, but the Celtic army broke up into its component parts, and each clan struggled northwards separately under its own chief. Their road was by Mallow, Croom, and Abington, and O’Donnell’s words came true, for ‘they which did kiss them in their going forward, did both strip them, and shoot bullets at them on their return, and for their arms they did drown them and tread them down in every bog and soft place.’ 200 perished in crossing the Blackwater, the Maigue, and the Mulkear. Horseflesh was their only food, the wearied animals sinking with the wounded, who were left to their fate, or being killed by riders whom they could no longer carry. The principal chiefs were borne in litters, and Tyrone arrived quite unexpectedly in Cavan, where he killed a few cows for his exhausted followers. Not less than 3,000 men and 500 horses were believed to have been lost, besides all baggage, and the survivors were utterly demoralised. ‘A troop of women,’ said Carew, ‘might have beaten Tyrone’s army.’[391]
Spaniards and Irish.
Kinsale capitulates.
Bagenal’s death was avenged, and his brother-in-law’s military reputation destroyed. Irish writers lay the chief blame on Don Juan d’Aguila, and yet he does not seem to have been the real cause of failure. His constant sallies certainly betray no inactivity, and the failure of Tyrone to keep the appointed time is quite enough to account for his not making one at the critical moment. His was the common fate of every Spaniard who had attempted to attack Elizabeth within the bounds of her hereditary possessions. Spanish organisation had become thoroughly bad, while that of the English improved daily. Mountjoy and Carew were good managers, but they were well seconded from home, and sometimes the Queen even anticipated their wants. She felt that her work would be incomplete if she left Ireland unsubdued, and the strength of her last years was ungrudgingly spent in that work. Don Juan saw that nothing could be made of an Irish alliance against such a Queen and such devoted servants. It was clear that Kinsale could never be relieved but by fresh efforts in Spain, and he had seen what Irish storms and English sailors could do. The town would be taken by assault, and the accompanying carnage would be of no service either to King or Pope. For six days after the battle the siege operations were resumed and the approaches brought very near the walls, and on the seventh Don Juan sent out his drum-major and an officer bearing a letter. He asked that a confidential messenger might be sent into the town to confer with him, an officer of like rank being given as surety for his safe return. Sir William Godolphin was accordingly sent in, and Don Pedro Enriquez came out into the camp. Don Juan told Godolphin that he had found the Irish weak and barbarous, and he could not be sure that they were not perfidious. Mountjoy, on the contrary, he had found a sharp and powerful enemy, and, on the whole, he was ready to capitulate. If fair conditions were not accorded, he would bury himself alive rather than yield. He professed not to be urged by necessity, but by a just disdain and spleen conceived against the Irish. Godolphin returned with his message, and on his second visit he was authorised to hold out hope of fair terms. Mountjoy took care to say that he had the game in his own hands, as indeed he had, but he was anxious to save blood and to show her Majesty’s clemency. Where both sides wished for peace there could be little difficulty about arranging the terms. Don Juan declared that he felt himself absolved from all engagements to the Irish. His master had sent him to co-operate with the Condees O’Neill and O’Donnell, who had long delayed their coming; and when they did come they were shamefully defeated by a handful of men, and ‘blown asunder into divers parts of the world.’ O’Neill had fled to Ulster, and O’Donnell to Spain, ‘so as now,’ he said, ‘I find no such Condees in rerum naturâ (for those were the very words he used) as I came to join withal, and therefore have moved this accord the rather to disengage the King, my master, from assisting a people so unable in themselves that the whole burden of the war must lie upon him, and so perfidious as perhaps might be induced in requital of his favour at last to betray him.’[392]