Bishop Jones and his fellow-commissioners came to Athlone on April 11, about three months after the murder of Browne. The O’Flaherties had in the meantime been very thoroughly beaten by Lieutenant Francis Bingham and other officers, assisted by Gerald Comerford, the martial attorney-general for Connaught. They lost something like 200 men, while only one soldier fell. Bishop Garvey was sent first into Mayo, while Jones and his other colleagues went straight to Galway. Sir Murrogh refused to come into the town without a protection, and this the mayor refused to grant in opposition to Comerford, lest Bingham should take him nevertheless, and so destroy the credit of the corporation. Sir Richard was at little pains to hide his dislike of the whole inquiry. The Bishop of Meath laid down the principle—and with this at least it is impossible not to agree—that loyal men should keep their words, no matter how much rebels broke theirs. ‘What!’ said Bingham, ‘would you have us keep our words with those which have no conscience, but break their word daily? I am not of that opinion.’ Chief Justice Dillon’s reading of his commission was that he was to make peace; Sir Richard commanded the troops, and might fight if he pleased. Bingham said he would hold his hand until the commissioners had done their best, or worst, and he let them see that he had no belief in their doings. The Bishop of Kilmore succeeded in bringing the leaders of the Burkes to Galway; and the Blind Abbot, as soon as he came within sight, held out the commission which had been found on Browne’s person at the time of his murder, and declared he would send it to the Queen. The knowledge that this document existed, said another Burke, was the real cause of the crime.[195]
Bingham too strong for the commissioners,
who become ridiculous.
Bingham was at Galway during the visit of the commissioners, though he did not conceal his disgust, and he had a considerable force with him. He declared that soldiers were necessary for the safety of the commissioners, and perhaps they were; but their presence brought danger of another sort. In the town the governor had many enemies and the rebels many friends, and brawls took place between them and some of Bingham’s men, who were probably indignant at the treatment of a chief whom they trusted, and who habitually led them to victory. ‘Nay, sirs,’ said Sir Richard to two of the Burkes who were stating their grievances, ‘would you not be clean rid of a sheriff, or would you not have a MacWilliam established among you?’ The commissioners professed themselves unable to detect any such intention, but the event showed that Bingham was right. Sir Morrogh O’Flaherty and the Blind Abbot refused altogether to come into Bingham’s presence, and the commissioners agreed to meet them outside the town. The trysting-place was an abbey beyond the river, probably the dissolved friary of the Dominicans, and Bingham blamed the commissioners for trusting themselves in a place where violence was easy, while some of his followers illustrated this opinion in a very curious way. Two men, dressed like nuns, or at least like women with ‘mantles and caps,’ and a third in a black gown, which may have been intended to represent the garb of St. Dominic, passed through the church while the commissioners were in the choir. ‘Let us go and tarry no longer,’ said Jones, ‘for I see they do begin to mock us already,’ and accordingly they regained their boat and went back to the town. The masqueraders, who were joined by others, took their place in the choir and went through the farce of a parley. Afterwards they paraded the streets, ‘I am the Bishop of Meath,’ said one. Another said, ‘I am the Justice Dillon; reverence for the Queen’s Commissioners,’ and so on. In the end, after several abortive discussions, Jones and his colleagues left Galway without concluding peace. It is evident that Bingham’s discontented subjects distrusted each other quite as much as they did him. Sir Morrogh O’Flaherty was ready to make separate terms for himself, and the Burkes feared to promise anything, lest others should take advantage of them. Bingham’s hands were untied, and he proceeded to restore order in his own way.[196]
O’Connor Sligo’s case.
Bingham defeats his claim.
Sir Donnell O’Connor of Sligo had surrendered his possessions to the Queen and taken out a fresh grant with remainder to the heirs male of his father. The castle and Dominican friary were originally founded by the Kildare family, and the O’Connors were technically their constables; but attainders intervened, and the claim was too antiquated to weigh much with Elizabethan statesmen. Sir Donnell died about the beginning of 1588, and his nephew Donough claimed to succeed him. According to Bingham, both Donough and his father Cahil Oge were illegitimate, and he was anxious to have the castle of Sligo in safe hands, because it commanded the passage from Ulster into Connaught. Donough, who was attached to Leicester, declared that the governor’s real object was to get all for his brother George; but Bingham’s proposal was that the barony of Carbury, on account of its strategic importance, should be retained for the Queen, and that all O’Connor Sligo’s lands in the neighbouring districts should be regranted to Donough. A commission, consisting of the Bishop of Meath, Sir Robert Dillon, and others, was appointed by Perrott to inquire into the matter, and they decided in favour of Donough. Bingham declared that they were quite wrong, and that he gave up Sligo under compulsion, for fear of disobeying the Lord Deputy, and in plain defiance of the Queen’s real interest. After Perrott’s departure from Ireland a further inquiry into Donough’s title was made, the commissioners being Bingham himself, with Chief Justice Sir Robert Gardiner and Mr. Justice Walshe. The jurors were substantial men, but it was alleged that Bingham had taken one of them by the beard, and threatened to punish him as a traitor if he persisted in finding Donough legitimate. After five days a verdict was obtained for the Crown, and the Chief Justice particularly stated that the trial was impartial, that all O’Connor’s challenges were allowed, and that Bingham did not use a harsh word to any witness or juror. Sligo remained in safe hands during the time the Armada was on the coast. Walsingham wrote a stinging rebuke to Bishop Jones for his corrupt conduct in the matter, and for his malice to Bingham. ‘It was told me at what time you were in England that I should in the end find you a hypocrite. And what better reckoning can I make of you... this practice of yours, though not by Sir Richard Bingham, is sufficiently discovered already from Ireland, and the gentleman I doubt not will stand upright there, in despite of all your malice.’ Others accused Jones of acting entirely under Dillon’s guidance, and the latter of receiving bribes. William Nugent, the ex-rebel of the Pale, said that he received 100 cows for making a false record.[197]
Walsingham supports Bingham.
Bishop Jones was profuse in apologies both to Walsingham and Burghley; and, though Swift calls him a rascal, there is no proof that he acted corruptly in the matter, while it might not be safe to say as much of Sir Robert Dillon. On June 10, Fitzwilliam himself arrived at Galway, whence Bingham departed at his urgent request, and on the following day the Blind Abbot and Sir Murrogh ne Doe O’Flaherty made their submissions openly in the church of St. Nicholas, and remained on their knees for nearly three-quarters of an hour. The Lord Deputy received a statement of their grievances in writing, and lost no time in advising Burghley that he thought they would never trust their lives under Bingham’s government. A few days later, Sir Richard told Walsingham that Fitzwilliam only impoverished Connaught by the cost of his train, that he had done nothing in three weeks, and that the province was a prey to rebels whom he, the governor, was forbidden to chastise. Hostages had been given, Archbishop Garvey’s eldest son among them, for the chiefs lately received on submission—‘a couple of doating old fools,’ who were amply protected by the garrison. O’Rourke was the real head of the rebellion, and he was shielded by the spite of Jones and the corruption of Dillon. The Queen’s representatives, he added, had, in fact, sued for peace, and it was not worth having, for the other parties were beggars and wretches. The terms were that the chiefs should disperse their forces and go home, that they should surrender any foreigners among them, that they should make such reparation for their rebellion as the Lord Deputy should appoint, and that they should pay for all the harm they had done since the first appointment of the Commissioners.[198]
The attack on Bingham fails.