IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS

VOL. III.

2 vols. 8vo. 32s.

IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS.

WITH A SUCCINCT ACCOUNT OF THE EARLIER HISTORY.

By RICHARD BAGWELL, M.A.

Vols. I. and II.

From the First Invasion of the Northmen to the year 1578.

London: LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.

IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS

WITH A SUCCINCT ACCOUNT OF THE
EARLIER HISTORY

BY

RICHARD BAGWELL, M.A.

IN THREE VOLUMES

VOL. III.

LONDON

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.

AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16^th STREET

1890

All rights reserved

[PREFACE]
TO
THE THIRD VOLUME.

By a mistake which was not the author’s, the title-pages of its first instalment described this book as being in two volumes. A third had, nevertheless, been previously announced, and this promise is now fulfilled. The Desmond and Tyrone rebellions, the destruction of the Armada, the disastrous enterprise of Essex, and two foreign invasions, have been described in some detail; and even those who speak slightingly of drum and trumpet histories may find something of interest in the adventures of Captain Cuellar, and in the chapter on Elizabethan Ireland.

A critic has said that your true State-paper historian may be known by his ignorance of all that has already been printed on any given subject. If this wise saying be true, then am I no State-paper historian; for the number of original documents in print steadily increases as we go down the stream of time, and they have been freely drawn upon here. But by far the larger part still remains in manuscript, and the labour connected with them has been greater than before, since Mr. H. C. Hamilton’s guidance was wanting after 1592. Much help is given by Fynes Moryson’s history. Moryson was a great traveller, whose business it had been to study manners and customs, who was Mountjoy’s secretary during most of his time in Ireland, and whose brother held good official positions both before and after. Much of what this amusing writer says is corroborated by independent evidence. Other authorities are indicated in the foot-notes, or have been discussed in the preface to the first two volumes. Wherever no other collection is mentioned, it is to be understood that all letters and papers cited are in the public Record Office.

It has not been thought generally necessary to give the dates both in old and new style. The officials, and Englishmen generally, invariably refused to adopt the Gregorian calendar, but the priests, and many Irishmen who followed them, naturally took the opposite course. As a rule, therefore, the chronology is old style, but a double date has been given wherever confusion seemed likely to arise.

It has often been said that religion had little or nothing to do with the Tudor wars in Ireland, but this is very far from the truth. It was the energy and devotion of the friars and Jesuits that made the people resist, and it was Spanish or papal gold that enabled the chiefs to keep the field. This volume shows how violent was the feeling against an excommunicated Queen, and, whether they were always right or not, we can scarcely wonder that Elizabeth and her servants saw an enemy of England in every active adherent of Rome.

At first the Queen showed some signs of a wish to remain on friendly terms with the Holy See, but she became the Protestant champion even against her own inclination. Sixtus V. admired her great qualities, and invited her to return to the bosom of the Church. ‘Strange proposition!’ says Ranke, ‘as if she had it in her power to choose; as if her past life, the whole import of her being, her political position and attitude, did not, even supposing her conviction not to be sincere, enchain her to the Protestant cause. Elizabeth returned no answer, but she laughed.’

The Elizabethan conquest of Ireland was cruel mainly because the Crown was poor. Unpaid soldiers are necessarily oppressors, and are as certain to cause discontent as they are certain to be inefficient for police purposes. The history of Ireland would have been quite different had it been possible for England to govern her as she has governed India—by scientific administrators, who tolerate all creeds and respect all prejudices. But no such machinery, nor even the idea of it, then existed, and nothing seemed possible but to crush rebellion by destroying the means of resistance. It was famine that really ended the Tyrone war, and it was caused as much by internecine quarrels among the Irish as by the more systematic blood-letting of Mountjoy and Carew. The work was so completely done that it lasted for nearly forty years, and even then there could have been no upheaval, but that forces outside Ireland had paralysed the English Government.

My best thanks are due to the Marquis of Salisbury for his kindness in giving me access to the treasures at Hatfield, and to Mr. R. T. Gunton for enabling me to use that privilege in the pleasantest way.

Marlfield, Clonmel,

March 17, 1890.

[CONTENTS]

OF

THE THIRD VOLUME.

[MAPS.]

[Errata.]

IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS.

[CHAPTER XXXVI.]

REBELLION OF JAMES FITZMAURICE, 1579.

Papal designs against Ireland. Stukeley.

Sidney’s departure had been partly delayed by a report that Stukeley’s long-threatened invasion was at last coming. The adventurer had been knighted in Spain, and Philip had said something about the Duchy of Leinster. The Duke of Feria and his party were willing to make him Duke of Ireland, and he seems to have taken that title. At Paris Walsingham remonstrated with Olivares, who carelessly, and no doubt falsely, replied that he had never heard of Stukeley, but that the king habitually honoured those who offered him service. Walsingham knew no Spanish, and Olivares would speak nothing else, so that the conversation could scarcely have serious results. But the remonstrances of Archbishop Fitzgibbon and other genuine Irish refugees gradually told upon Philip, and the means of living luxuriously and making a show were withheld. ‘The practices of Stukeley,’ wrote Burghley to Walsingham, ‘are abated in Spain by discovery of his lewdness and insufficiency;’ and he went to Rome, where the Countess of Northumberland had secured him a good reception. ‘He left Florida kingdom,’ said Fitzwilliam sarcastically, ‘only for holiness’ sake, and to have a red hat;’ adding that he was thought holy at Waterford for going barefooted about streets and churches. ‘It is incredible,’ says Fuller, ‘how quickly he wrought himself through the notice into the favour, through the court into the chamber, yea, closet and bosom, of Pope Pius Quintus.’ An able seaman, Stukeley was in some degree fitted to advance the Pontiff’s darling plan for crushing the Turks. The old pirate did find his way to Don John of Austria’s fleet, and seems to have been present at Lepanto. His prowess in the Levant restored him to Philip’s favour, and he was soon again in Spain, in company with a Doria and in receipt of 1,000 ducats a week.[1]

Thomas Stukeley on the Continent.

There was much movement at the time among the Irish in Spain, and the air was filled with rumours. Irish friars showed letters from Philip ordering all captains to be punished who refused them passages to Ireland, and the Inquisition was very active. One Frenchman was nevertheless bold enough to say that he would rather burn than have a friar on board, and those who sought a passage from him had to bestow themselves on a Portuguese ship. In 1575 Stukeley was again at Rome, and in as high favour with Gregory XIII. as he had been with his predecessor. The Pope employed him in Flanders, where he had dealings with Egremont Radcliffe. That luckless rebel had bitterly repented; but when he returned and offered his services to the queen, she spurned them and bade him depart the realm. From very want, perhaps, he entered Don John’s service, and when that prince died he was executed on a trumped-up charge of poisoning him. Stukeley was more fortunate, for he had then left the Netherlands, and Don John took credit with the English agent for sending him away. Wilson was equal to the occasion, and said the gain was the king’s, for Stukeley was a vain ‘nebulo’ and all the treasures of the Indies too little for his prodigal expenditure. It would be interesting to know what passed between the two adventurers, the bastard of Austria and the Devonshire renegade; between the man who tried to found a kingdom at Tunis, and talked of marrying Mary Stuart, conquering England, and obtaining the crown matrimonial, and the man who, having dreamed of addressing his dear sister Elizabeth from the throne of Florida, now sought to deprive her of the Duchy of Ireland. Like so many who had to deal with this strange being, perhaps the governor of the Netherlands was imposed upon by his vapourings and treated him as a serious political agent. After leaving Brussels he went to Rome, well supplied with money and spending it in his old style everywhere. At Sienna Mr. Henry Cheek thought him so dangerous that he moved to Ferrara to be out of his way. At Florence the Duke honoured Stukeley greatly, ‘as did the other dukes of Italy, esteeming him as their companion.’ But he was without honour among his own countrymen, and they refused a dinner to which he invited all the English at Sienna except Cheek.[2]

Fitzmaurice on the Continent.

James Fitzmaurice was already at Rome. He had spent the best part of two years in France, where he was well entertained, but where he found no real help. He received supplies of money occasionally. The Parisians daily addressed him as King of Ireland, but nothing was done towards the realisation of the title. Sir William Drury’s secret agent was in communication with one of Fitzmaurice’s most trusted companions, and his hopes and fears were well known in Ireland. At one time he was sure of 1,200 Frenchmen, at another he was likely to get 4,000; and De la Roche, who was no stranger in Munster, was to have at least six tall ships for transport. De la Roche did nothing but convey the exile’s eldest son, Maurice, to Portugal, where he entered the University of Coimbra. Sir Amyas Paulet had instructions to remonstrate with the French Court, and the old Puritan seems to have been quite a match for Catherine de Medici; but there was little sincerity on either side. The Queen-mother’s confidential agent confessed that all was in disorder, and that the French harbours were full of pirates and thieves, but she herself told Paulet that De la Roche had strict orders to attempt nothing against England. Having little hope of France, Fitzmaurice himself went to Spain, where his reception was equally barren of result. The Catholic King was perhaps offended at the Most Christian King having been first applied to, and at all events he was not yet anxious to break openly with his sister-in-law.[3]

Fitzmaurice and the Pope.

But at Rome, Fitzmaurice was received by Gregory with open arms. He was on very friendly terms with Everard Mercurian, the aged general of the Jesuits, who was, however, personally opposed to sending members of the order to England, Ireland, or Scotland; a point on which he was soon overruled by younger men. What the life of a Jesuit missionary was may be gathered from a letter written to the General about this time.

‘Once,’ wrote Edmund Tanner from Rosscarbery, ‘was I captured by the heretics and liberated by God’s grace, and the industry of pious people; twelve times did I escape the snares of the impious, who would have caught me again had God permitted them.’

But the harvest, though hard to reap, was not inconsiderable. Tanner reported that nobles and townsmen were daily received into the bosom of Holy Church out of the ‘sink of schism,’ and that the conversion would have been much more numerous but that many feared present persecution, and the loss of life, property, or liberty.

This chain still kept back a well-affected multitude, but the links were worn, and there was good hope that it soon would break.[4]

Fitzmaurice expects to free Ireland.

We know from an original paper which fell into the hands of the English Government, what were Fitzmaurice’s modes and requirements for the conquest of Ireland. Six thousand armed soldiers and their pay for six months, ten good Spanish or Italian officers, six heavy and fifteen light guns, 3,000 stand of arms with powder and lead, three ships of 400, 50, and 30 tons respectively, three boats for crossing rivers, and a nuncio with twenty well-instructed priests—such were the instruments proposed. He required licence to take English ships outside Spanish ports, and to sell prizes in Spain. Property taken from Geraldines was to remain in the family, and every Geraldine doing good service was to be confirmed by his Holiness and his Catholic Majesty in land and title. Finally, 6,000 troops were to be sent to him in six months, should he make a successful descent.

As sanguine, or as desperate, as Wolfe Tone in later times, he fancied that England could be beaten in her own dominion by such means as these. Sanders, who was probably deceived by his Irish friends as to the amount of help which might be expected in Ireland, had no belief in Philip, whom he pronounced ‘as fearful of war as a child of fire.’ The Pope alone could be trusted, and he would give 2,000 men. ‘If they do not serve to go to England,’ he said, ‘at least they will serve to go to Ireland; the state of Christendom dependeth upon the stout assailing of England.’[5]

Fitzmaurice and Stukeley.

Stukeley appears to have got on better with Fitzmaurice than with Archbishop Fitzgibbon, which may have been owing to the mediation of Sanders or Allen. The Pope agreed to give some money, and Fitzmaurice hit upon an original way of raising an army. ‘At that time,’ says an historian likely to be well informed about Roman affairs, ‘Italy was infested by certain bands of robbers, who used to lurk in woods and mountains, whence they descended by night to plunder the villages, and to spoil travellers on the highways. James implored Pope Gregory XIII. to afford help to the tottering Catholic Church in Ireland, and obtained pardon for these brigands on condition of accompanying him to Ireland, and with these and others he recruited a force of 1,000 soldiers more or less.’ This body of desperadoes was commanded by veteran officers, of which Hercules of Pisa (or Pisano) was one, and accompanied by Sanders and by Cornelius O’Mulrian, Bishop of Killaloe. Stukeley kept up the outward show of piety which he had begun at Waterford and continued in Spain, and he obtained a large number of privileged crucifixes from the Pontiff, perhaps with the intention of selling them well. It must be allowed that an army of brigands greatly needed indulgence, and fifty days were granted to everyone who devoutly beheld one of these crosses, the period beginning afresh at each act of adoration. Every other kind of indulgence might seem superfluous after this, but many were also offered for special acts of prayer, a main object of which was the aggrandisement of Mary Stuart.

Stukeley was placed in supreme charge of the expedition, which seems to have been done by the desire of Fitzmaurice, and the titles conferred on him by Gregory were magnificent enough even for his taste. He took upon himself to act as mediator between some travelling Englishmen and the Holy Office, and having obtained their release he gave them a passport. This precious document was in the name of Thomas Stukeley, Knight, Baron of Ross and Idrone, Viscount of Murrows and Kinsella, Earl of Wexford and Carlow, Marquis of Leinster, General of our Most Holy Father; and the contents are certified ‘in ample and infallible manner.’ Marquis of Leinster was the title by which Roman ecclesiastics generally addressed him.[6]

Battle of Alcazar, 1578. Death of Stukeley.

Stukeley left Civita Vecchia early in 1578, and brought his ships, his men, and his stores of arms to Lisbon, where he found nine Irish refugees, priests and scholars, whom Gregory had ordered to accompany him. He called them together, and, with characteristic grandiosity, offered a suitable daily stipend to each. Six out of the nine refused, saying: ‘They were no man’s subjects, and would take no stipend from anyone but the supreme Pontiff, or some king or great prince.’ This exhibition of the chronic ill-feeling between English and Irish refugees argued badly for the success of their joint enterprise. After some hesitation, Sebastian of Portugal decided not to take part in this attack on a friendly power, and he invited the English adventurer to join him in invading Morocco, where dynastic quarrels gave him a pretext for intervention. Secretary Wilson was told that Stukeley had no choice, ‘the King having seized upon him and his company to serve in Africa.’ Sebastian had also German mercenaries with him. There was a sort of alliance at this time between England and Morocco, Elizabeth having sent an agent, with an Irish name, who found the Moorish Emperor ‘an earnest Protestant, of good religion and living, and well experimented as well in the Old Testament as in the New, with great affection to God’s true religion used in Her Highness’s realm.’ Whatever we may think of this, it is easy to believe that the Moor despised Philip as being ‘governed by the Pope and Inquisition.’ But it is not probable that this curious piece of diplomacy had much effect on the main issue. Stukeley warned Sebastian against rashness, advising him to halt at the seaside to exercise his troops, who were chiefly raw levies, and to gain some experience in Moorish tactics. But the young King, whose life was of such supreme importance to his country, was determined to risk all upon the cast of a die. The great battle of Alcazar was fatal alike to the Portuguese King and the Moorish Emperor. Stukeley also fell, fighting bravely to the last, at the head of his Italians. It may be said of him, as it was said of a greater man, that nothing in his life became him so much as his manner of leaving it.[7]

Result of this battle.

The Geraldine historian, O’Daly, says Fitzmaurice landed in Ireland entirely ignorant of Stukeley’s fate, but this statement is contradicted by known dates. Nor can we believe that if Stukeley had come with his Italian swordsmen while Fitzmaurice lived, it would have fared ill with the English—that a little money and less blood would have sufficed to drive them out of Ireland. Yet it is probably true that the battle of Alcazar was of great indirect value to England. Sebastian left no heir, and the Crown of Portugal devolved on his great-uncle, Cardinal Henry, who was sixty-seven and childless. The next in reversion was Philip II., whose energies were now turned towards securing the much-coveted land which nature seemed to designate as proper to be joined with Spain. For a time, however, it was supposed that he would heartily embrace the sanguine Gregory’s schemes, and rumours were multiplied by hope or fear.

Ireland ill-prepared to resist invasion.

Lord Justice Drury knew that the lull in Ireland was only temporary, but Elizabeth made it an excuse for economy, and disaffected people, ‘otherwise base-minded enough,’ were encouraged to believe that the government would stand anything rather than spend money. By refusing to grant any protections, and by holding his head high, Drury kept things pretty quiet, but he had to sell or pawn his plate. He hinted that, as there was no foreign invasion, her Majesty might continue to pay him his salary, and save his credit. Meanwhile, he had some small successes. Feagh MacHugh made his submission in Christ Church cathedral, and gave pledges to Harrington, whom he acknowledged as his captain. Desmond and his brother John came to Waterford and behaved well, and a considerable number of troublesome local magnates made their submissions at Carlow, Leighlin, Castledermot, and Kilkenny; twenty-nine persons were executed at Philipstown, but the fort was falling down, and this was little likely to impress the neighbouring chiefs. Drury’s presence alone saved it from a sudden attack by the O’Connors. But a son of O’Doyne’s was fined for concealment, and his father took it well, so that it was possible to report some slight progress of legal ideas. Meanwhile there was great danger lest the Queen’s ill-judged parsimony should destroy much of what had been done in Sidney’s time. Thus, the town of Carrickfergus had been paved and surrounded by wet ditches; the inhabitants had, in consequence, been increased from twenty to two hundred, forty fishermen resorted daily to the quay, and sixty ploughs were at work. But over 200l. was owing to the town, the garrison were in danger of starving, and it was feared that ‘the townsmen came not so fast thither, but would faster depart thence.’[8]

Ulster in 1579.

Tirlogh Luineach O’Neill was now old and in bad health. It was again proposed to make him a peer; but this was not done, since it was evident that a title would make fresh divisions after his death. There were already four competitors, or rather groups of competitors, for the reversion; of whom only two were of much importance. Shane O’Neill’s eldest legitimate son, known as Henry MacShane, was supported by one legitimate and five illegitimate brothers, and Drury’s idea was ‘by persuasion or by force of testoons’ to make him a counterpoise to the Baron of Dungannon, whose ambitious character was already known. The bastardy of the baron’s grandfather had been often condoned by the Crown, but was not forgotten and might be turned to account. Against the advice of his leeches old Tirlogh was carried forty miles on men’s shoulders, to meet Bagenal at Blackwater, and said he was most anxious to meet Drury. Dungannon, who expected an immediate vacancy, begged hard for 200 soldiers, without which the MacShanes would muster twice as many men as he could. He promised not to go out of his own district as long as the old chief lived. Drury temporised, since he could do nothing else, and tried what effect his own presence in the North might have. The suddenness of his movement frightened Tirlogh, who got better, contrary to all expectation, and showed himself with a strong force on the top of a hill near Armagh, refusing however to come in without protection. This Drury refused on principle, and Tirlogh’s wife, who was clever enough to see that no harm was intended, tried in vain to bring her husband to the Viceroy’s camp. Meanwhile he and the Baron became fast friends, and the latter proposed to put away O’Donnell’s daughter, to whom he was perhaps not legally married, and to take Tirlogh’s for his wife. Drury made him promise not to deal further in the match; but his back was no sooner turned than the marriage was celebrated, and the other unfortunate sent back to Tyrconnell. At the same time Tirlogh gave another of his daughters to Sorley Boy MacDonnell’s son, and the assistance of the Scots was thus supposed to be secured. There were rumours that Fitzmaurice would land at Sligo, and a general confederacy was to be looked for. Fitton, who had been long enough in Ireland to know something about it, saw that the Irish had great natural wits and knew how to get an advantage quite as well as more civil people, and that Tirlogh, like the rest of his countrymen, would submit while it suited him and no longer.[9]

Fitzmaurice and Sanders sail for Ireland.

After Stukeley’s death James Fitzmaurice continued to prepare for a descent on Ireland. After his return from Rome he went to France, where he joined his wife, son, and two daughters. He then spent nearly three months at Madrid with Sanders, and obtained 1,000 ducats for his wife, who was then in actual penury at ‘Vidonia’ in Biscay. But he could not see the king, and professed himself indifferent to help from Spain or Portugal. ‘I care for no soldiers at all,’ he said to Sanders; ‘you and I are enough; therefore let me go, for I know the minds of the noblemen in Ireland.’ Some of Stukeley’s men, with a ship of about 400 tons, had survived the Barbary disaster. O’Mulrian, Papal Bishop of Killaloe, came to Lisbon from Rome with the same men and two smaller vessels, and by the Pope’s orders Stukeley’s ship was given to them. Sanders accompanied the bishop, and there seem to have been about 600 men—Italians, Spaniards, Portuguese, Flemings, Frenchmen, Irish, and a few English. It was arranged that this motley crew should join Fitzmaurice at Corunna, and then sail straight to Ireland. A Waterford merchant told his wife that the men were very reticent, but were reported to be about to establish the true religion. When questioned they said they were bound for Africa, but the Waterford man thought they were going to spoil her Majesty’s subjects. Meanwhile Fitzmaurice was at Bilbao with a few light craft. The largest was of sixty tons, commanded by a Dingle man who knew the Irish coast, but who ultimately took no part in the expedition. William Roche, who had been Perrott’s master gunner at Castlemaine, and James Den of Galway, were also retained as pilots. A little later Fitzmaurice had a ship of 300 tons, for which he gave 800 crowns, several small pieces of artillery, 6,000 muskets, and a good supply of provisions and trenching tools. The men received two months’ pay in advance.

Fitzmaurice’s one idea was to raise an army in Munster, and he told an Irish merchant who thought his preparations quite inadequate, that ‘when the arms were occupied’ he made no account of all the Queen’s forces in Ireland. He was accompanied by his wife and daughter and about fifty men, who were nearly all Spaniards. Sanders went to Bilbao after a short stay at Lisbon, and two merchants, one of Waterford and one of Wexford, who came together from the Tagus to the Shannon, reported that a descent was imminent. ‘The men,’ they said, ‘be willing; they want no treasure, they lack no furniture, and they have skilful leaders.’ To oppose a landing the Queen had one disabled ship in Ireland, and there were no means of fitting her out for sea.[10]

The voyage.

The French rover, De la Roche, in spite of Catherine de Medici’s assurance, seems to have co-operated with Fitzmaurice. John Picot, of Jersey, bound for Waterford with Spanish wine, was warned at San Lucar by a Brest man that De la Roche and Fitzmaurice spoiled everyone they met. To avoid them Picot kept wide of the coast; nevertheless he fell in with eight sail 60 leagues N.W. of Cape St. Vincent. They fired and obliged him to lower a boat, and then robbed him of wine, oil, raisins, and other things of Spain. Picot saw twelve pieces of cannon in De la Roche’s hold, but was warned significantly not to pry under hatches again. The Jerseymen were beaten, the St. Malo men spared, and all were told, with ‘vehement oaths and gnashing of teeth,’ that if they had been Englishmen they would have been thrown overboard—a fate which actually befell the crew of a Bristol vessel two or three days later. Finding that Picot was going to Ireland, his captors said they would keep company with him; but thick weather came on, and by changing his course, he got clear within twenty-four hours. A few days after Fitzmaurice was in Dursey Sound with six ships, and others were sighted off Baltimore. He picked up a fisherman and bade him fetch in Owen O’Sullivan Bere, but that chief refused, and three days later the invading squadron cast anchor off Dingle.[11]

Fitzmaurice and Sanders reach Ireland.

The portreeve and his brethren went off to speak with the strangers next morning. Some Spaniards whom they knew refused to let them come on board, and they sent at once to Desmond for help. The preparations for resistance were of the slightest. The constable of Castlemaine reported that he had only five hogsheads of wheat, two tuns of wine, three hogsheads of salmon, and some malt; and that he was dependent for meat upon such bruised reeds as Desmond and Clancare. There were neither men nor stores at Dublin, and no hope of borrowing even 500l. Cork had but five barrels of inferior powder, and no lead. At Waterford there were only 2,000 pounds of powder. All that Drury could do was to write letters charging the Munster lords to withstand the traitors, but a fortnight passed before he himself could get as far as Limerick.[12]

They land at Dingle.

Mr. James Golde, Attorney-General for Munster, writing from Tralee, thus describes the manner of Fitzmaurice’s landing, which took place on the day after his arrival at Dingle:—

‘The traitor upon Saturday last came out of his ship. Two friars were his ancient-bearers, and they went before with two ancients. A bishop, with a crozier-staff and his mitre, was next the friars. After came the traitor himself at the head of his company, about 100, and went to seek for flesh and kine, which they found, and so returned to his ships.’[13] On the same day they burned the town, lit fires on the hills as if signalling to some expected allies, and then shifted their berths to Smerwick harbour, taking with them as prisoners some of the chief inhabitants of Dingle. At Smerwick they began to construct a fort, of which the later history is famous. It was believed that Fitzmaurice expected immediate help out of Connaught. ‘Ulick Burke is obedient,’ said Waterhouse; ‘but I believe that John will presently face the confederacy.’ Drury could only preach fidelity, and commission Sir Humphrey Gilbert to take up ships and prosecute the enemy by sea and land.[14]

Proclamation of Fitzmaurice.

Fitzmaurice brought to Ireland two printed proclamations—one in English for those who spoke it and were attached to the English crown, the other in Latin for the Irish and their priests.

The first paper sets forth that Gregory XIII. ‘perceiving what dishonour to God and his Saints, &c.... hath fallen to Scotland, France, and Flanders, by the procurement of Elizabeth, the pretensed Queen of England; perceiving also that neither the warning of other Catholic princes and good Christians, nor the sentence of Pope Pius V., his predecessor, nor the long sufferance of God, could make her to forsake her schism, heresy, and wicked attempts; now purposeth (not without the consent of other Catholic potentates) to deprive her actually of the unjust possession of these kingdoms, &c.’ Any attack on the Crown of England is disclaimed; the usurper was alone aimed at, and the help of the English Catholics was considered certain. The Catholics were everywhere, but ‘Wales, Chestershire, Lancastershire, and Cumberland’ were entirely devoted to the old faith, and their proximity to Ireland increased their importance. Throughout England the husbandmen—the raw material of every army—were ‘commonly all Catholics.’ Elizabeth had a few friends indeed, but she would be afraid to send them away from her, and if Ireland remained united, all must go well. One great crime of Queen Elizabeth was her refusal to declare an heir-apparent; by espousing the cause of that heir, whose name is not mentioned, the reward of those who worship the rising sun might fairly be expected. Fitzmaurice explained that the Pope had appointed him general because he alone had been present at Rome, but that he intended to act by the advice of the Irish prelates, princes, and lords, ‘whom he took in great part for his betters.’ And his appeal ends thus: ‘This one thing I will say, which I wish to be imprinted on all our hearts, if all we that are indeed of a good mind would openly and speedily pass our faith by resorting to his Holiness’ banner, and by commanding your people and countries to keep no other but the Catholic faith, and forthwith to expel all heresies and schismatical services, you should not only deliver your country from heresy and tyranny, but also do that most godly and noble act without any danger at all, because there is no foreign power that would or durst go about to assault so universal a consent of this country; being also backed and maintained by other foreign powers, as you see we are, and, God willing, shall be; but now if one of you stand still and look what the other doth, and thereby the ancient nobility do slack to come or send us (which God forbid), they surely that come first, and are in the next place of honour to the said nobility, must of necessity occupy the chief place in his Holiness’ army, as the safeguard thereof requireth, not meaning thereby to prejudice any nobleman in his own dominion or lands, which he otherwise rightfully possesseth, unless he be found to fight, or to aid them that do fight, against the Cross of Christ and his Holiness’ banner, for both which I, as well as all other Christians, ought to spend our blood and, for my part, intend at least by God’s grace, Whom I beseech to give you all, my lords, in this world courage and stoutness for the defence of His faith, and in the world to come life everlasting.’[15]

Continuity of some Irish ideas.

The whole document is a good example of the sanguine rhetoric in which exiles have always indulged, and of the way in which the leaders of Irish sedition have been accustomed to talk. The part assigned to continental powers and to English Catholics in the sixteenth century, was transferred to the French monarchy in the seventeenth, and to the revolutionary republic in the eighteenth; and now, in the nineteenth, it is given to the United States of America, and to the British working-man.

A second proclamation.

A translation of the shorter paper may well be given in full:—‘A just war requires three conditions—a just cause, lawful power, and the means of carrying on lawful war. It shall be made clear that all three conditions are fulfilled in the present case.

‘The cause of this war is God’s glory, for it is our care to restore the outward rite of sacrifice and the visible honour of the holy altar which the heretics have impiously taken away. The glory of Christ is belied by the heretics, who deny that his sacraments confer grace, thus invalidating Christ’s gospel on account of which the law was condemned; and the glory of the Catholic Church they also belie, which against the truth of the Scriptures they declare to have been for some centuries hidden from the world. But in the name of God, in sanctification by Christ’s sacraments, and in preserving the unity of the Church, the salvation of us all has had its chief root.

‘The power of this war is derived first from natural, and then from evangelical, law. Natural law empowers us to defend ourselves against the very manifest tyranny of heretics, who, against the law of nature, force us, under pain of death, to abjure our first faith in the primacy of the Roman Pontiff, and unwillingly to receive and profess a plainly contrary religion; a yoke which has never been imposed by Christians, Jews, or Turks, nor by themselves formerly upon us. And so since Christ in his gospel has given the help of the kingdom of heaven—that is, the supreme administration of his Church—to Peter, Gregory XIII., the legitimate successor of that chief of the Apostles in the same chair, has chosen us general of this war, as abundantly appears from his letters and patent (diploma), and which he has the rather done that his predecessor, Pius V., had deprived Elizabeth, the patroness of those heresies, of all royal power and dominion, as his declaratory decision (sententia), which we have also with us, most manifestly witnesseth.

‘Thus we are not warring against the legitimate sceptre and honourable throne of England, but against a she-tyrant who has deservedly lost her royal power by refusing to listen to Christ in the person of his vicar, and through daring to subject Christ’s Church to her feminine sex on matters of faith, about which she has no right to speak with authority.

‘In what belongs to the conduct of the war, we have no thoughts of invading the rights of our fellow-citizens, nor of following up private enmities, from which we are especially free, nor of usurping the supreme royal power. I swear that God’s honour shall be at once restored to Him, and we are ready at any moment to lay down the sword, and to obey our lawful superiors. But if any hesitate to combat heresy, it is they who rob Ireland of peace, and not us. For when there is talk of peace, not with God but with the Devil, then we ought to say, with our Saviour: I came not to bring peace on earth, but a sword. If then we wage continual war to restore peace with God, it is most just that those who oppose us should purchase their own damnation, and have for enemies all the saints whose bones they spurn, and also God himself, whose glory they fight against.

‘Let so much here suffice, for if anyone wishes to understand the rights of the case he need but read and understand the justice and reasonableness of the fuller edict which we have taken care should be also published.’[16]

How Fitzmaurice understood liberty of conscience.

In these papers the arguments derived from the right to liberty of conscience, which all Protestants should respect, and from the Papal claims which all Protestants deny, are blended with no small skill; but Fitzmaurice, while demanding liberty of conscience for himself, expressly denies it to those who disagree with him.

Desmond and Fitzmaurice.

There can be no doubt that Desmond was jealous of James Fitzmaurice; and historians well-affected to the Geraldines have attributed the latter’s rebellion to the ill-feeling existing between them. It is said that Lady Desmond, who was a Butler, had prevented her husband from making any provision for his distinguished kinsman. It was reported to Drury that Fitzmaurice had called himself Earl of Desmond on the Continent, and that this would be sure to annoy the Earl, whose pride was overweening. But this does not seem to have been the case. Fitzmaurice is not called Earl either in his own letters or in those written to him. The general of the Jesuits addresses him as ‘the most illustrious Lord James Geraldine’; the Pope speaks of him as James Geraldine simply, and so he calls himself, sometimes adding ‘of Desmond.’ But that he should have been appointed general of a force which was to operate in Desmond’s country was quite enough to excite suspicion. No sooner did the news of his arrival reach the Earl than he wrote to tell Drury that he and his were ready to venture their lives in her Majesty’s quarrel, ‘and to prevent the traitorous attempts of the said James.’ He had nevertheless been in correspondence with Fitzmaurice, and had urged his immediate descent upon the Irish coast some eighteen months before.[17]

Nicholas Sanders, the Jesuit.

Not less important than Fitzmaurice was Dr. Nicholas Sanders, who acted as treasurer of the expedition. He was known by the treatise De Visibili Monarchia which Parker said was long enough to wear out a Fabius, and almost unanswerable, ‘not for the invincibleness of it, but for the huge volume.’ Answers were nevertheless written which no doubt satisfied the Anglican party, but the Catholic refugees at Brussels thought so highly of Sanders that they begged Philip to get him made a cardinal.

Making the best of both worlds.

The English were then in disgrace at Rome, where the appointment of a Welshman as Rector of the new college had caused a mutiny among the students, and Allen doubted whether his own credit was good, but it was upon him that the red hat was at last conferred. To Sanders must be ascribed most of what was written in Fitzmaurice’s name, and that was a small part of what fell from his prolific pen. Queen Elizabeth, said the nuncio, was a heretic. She was childless, and the approaching extinction of Henry VIII.’s race was an evident judgment. She was ‘a wicked woman, neither born in true wedlock nor esteeming her Christendom, and therefore deprived by the Vicar of Christ, her and your lawful judge.’ Her feminine supremacy was a continuation of that which the Devil implanted in Paradise when he made Eve Adam’s mistress in God’s matters.’ When a knowledge of Celtic was necessary Sanders’s place might be taken by Cornelius O’Mulrian, an observant friar, lately provided to the see of Killaloe, or by Donough O’Gallagher, of the same order, who was provided to Killaloe in 1570. Letters in Irish were written to the Munster MacDonnells, Hebridean gallowglasses serving in Desmond, whom Fitzmaurice exhorts to help him at once—‘first, inasmuch as we are fighting for our faith, and for the Church of God; and next, that we are defending our country, and extirpating heretics, barbarians, and unjust and lawless men; and besides that you were never employed by any lord who will pay you and your people their wages and bounty better than I shall, inasmuch as I never was at any time more competent to pay it than now.... We are on the side of truth and they on the side of falsehood; we are Catholic Christians, and they are heretics; justice is with us, and injustice with them.... All the bonaght men shall get their pay readily, and moreover we shall all obtain eternal wages from our Lord, from the loving Jesus, on account of fighting for his sake.... I was never more thankful to God for having great power and influence than now. Advise every one of your friends who likes fighting for his religion and his country better than for gold and silver, or who wishes to obtain them all, to come to me, and that he will find each of these things.’[18]

Fitzmaurice appeals to Desmond.

In the letter written by Sanders to Desmond in Fitzmaurice’s name, the Earl is reminded that the latter ‘warfareth under Christ’s banner, for the restoring of the Catholic faith in Ireland.’ Then, flying into the first person in his hurry, he says His Holiness ‘has made me general-captain of this Holy War.’ There are many allusions to Christ’s banner and to the ancient glories of the Geraldines, and the epistle ends with a recommendation to ‘your fellows, and to all my good cousins your children, and to my dear uncle your brother, longing to see all us, all one, first as in faith so in field, and afterwards in glory and life everlasting.’

A like appeal was made to the Earl of Kildare, and we may be sure that none of the Munster lords were forgotten. Friars were busy with O’Rourke, O’Donnell, and other northern chiefs, and the piratical O’Flaherties brought a flotilla of galleys, which might have their own way in the absence of men-of-war. Three of Fitzmaurice’s ships sailed away, and were expected soon to return with more help. Thomas Courtenay of Devonshire happened to be at Kinsale with an armed vessel, and was persuaded by his countryman Henry Davells, one of the Commissioners of Munster, to come round and seize the remaining Spanish ships. Courtenay seems not to have been in the Queen’s service; like so many other men of Devon, he was probably half-pirate and half-patriot. To cut out the undefended vessels from their anchorage was an easy and congenial task, and thus, to quote another Devonian, ‘James Fitzmaurice and his company lost a piece of the Pope’s blessing, for they were altogether destituted of any ship to ease and relieve themselves by the seas, what need soever should happen.’ The O’Flaherties sailed away with the two bishops on Courtenay’s arrival, but Maltby afterwards found their lair upon the shores of Clew Bay. One was promptly hanged by martial law; a second, who had property to confiscate, was reserved for the sessions, and a third was killed for resisting his captors; the rest were to be hanged when caught. Fitzmaurice had with him at Smerwick but twenty-five Spaniards, six Frenchmen, and six Englishmen, besides twenty-seven English prisoners whom he forced to work at the entrenchments. Provisions were scarce, and the whole enterprise might have collapsed had it not been for a crime which committed the Desmonds irretrievably.[19]

Murder of Davells and Carter.

On hearing of the landing in Kerry Drury had despatched a trusty messenger to confirm the Earl and his brother in their allegiance. The person selected was Henry Davells, a Devonshire gentleman who had served Henry VIII. in France, had afterwards seen fighting in Scotland, and had long lived in Carlow and Wexford, where he was well known and much respected. His countryman Hooker, who knew him, says he was not only the friend of every Englishman in Ireland, but also much esteemed by the Irish for his hospitality and true dealing. ‘If any of them had spoken the word, which was assuredly looked to be performed, they would say Davells hath said it, as who saith “it shall be performed.” For the nature of the Irishman is, that albeit he keepeth faith, for the most part, with nobody, yet will he have no man to break with him.’ The same writer assures us that the mere fact of being Davells’ man would secure any Englishman a free passage and hospitable reception throughout Munster and Leinster. He was equally valued by Desmond and Ormonde, an intimate friend of Sir Edmund Butler, and on such terms with Sir John of Desmond, whose gossip he was and whom he had several times redeemed out of prison, that the latter used to call him father. Davells now went straight to Kerry, saw the Earl and his brothers, whom he exhorted to stand firm, and visited Smerwick, which he found in no condition to withstand a resolute attack. Returning to the Desmonds he begged for a company of gallowglasses and sixty musketeers, with whom and with the aid of Captain Courtenay, he undertook to master the unfinished fort. Desmond refused, saying that his musketeers were more fitted to shoot at fowls than at a strong place, and that gallowglasses were good against gallowglasses, but no match for old soldiers. English officers afterwards reported that sixty resolute men might have taken Smerwick, and were thus confirmed in their belief that Desmond had intended rebellion from the first, and that Fitzmaurice, whose ability was undeniable, would not have taken up such a weak position without being sure of the Earl’s co-operation. But religious zeal might account for that.

Davells, who was accompanied by Arthur Carter, Provost Marshal of Munster, and a few men, started on his return journey, prepared no doubt to tell Drury that nothing was to be expected of the Desmonds. John of Desmond, accompanied by his brother James and a strong party, followed to Tralee, surrounded the tavern where the English officers lay, and bribed the porter to open the door. Davells and Carter were so unsuspicious that they had gone to bed, and allowed their servant to lodge in the town. When Davells saw Sir John entering his room with a drawn sword he called out, ‘What, son! what is the matter?’ ‘No more son, nor no more father,’ said the other, ‘but make thyself ready, for die thou shalt.’ A faithful page cast himself upon his master’s body; but he was thrust aside and Sir John himself despatched Davells.

Carter was also killed, and so were the servants. In a curious print the two Englishmen are represented as sleeping in the same bed. Sir John holds back the servant with his left hand and transfixes Davells with the right, while Sir James goes round, with a sword drawn, to Carter’s side. Outside stand several squads of the Desmond gallowglasses, and armed men are killing Davells’ followers, while Sanders appears in two places, carrying the consecrated papal banner, hounding on the murderers, and congratulating the brothers on their prowess. According to all the English accounts Sanders commended the murder as a sweet sacrifice in the sight of God, and two Irish Catholic historians mention it. But Fitzmaurice was a soldier, and disapproved of killing men in their beds. There is no positive evidence as to Desmond. Geraldine partisans say he abhorred the deed, but he never punished anyone for it, and Sir James was said to have pleaded that he was merely the Earl’s ‘executioner.’ Desmond accepted a silver-gilt basin and ewer, and a gold chain only a few days after the murder.[20]

Fitzmaurice and John of Desmond.

‘Landed gentlemen,’ says Sidney Smith, ‘have molar teeth, and are destitute of the carnivorous and incisive jaws of political adventurers.’ The Munster proprietors held aloof with the Earl of Desmond, ‘letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,”’ while the landless men followed his bolder and more unscrupulous brother. When Fitzmaurice disembarked, Desmond had 1,200 men with him; shortly after the murder of Davells he had less than 60; but Sir John was soon at the head of a large force. The activity of Maltby not only prevented any rising in Connaught, but also made it impossible for Scots to enter Munster. He lay at Limerick waiting till Drury was ready, and when the latter, who was ill, came to Limerick at the risk of his life, it was Maltby who entered the woods and drove the rebels from place to place. For a time Fitzmaurice and his cousin kept together, though it may be that the latter’s savagery was disagreeable to the man who had seen foreign courts, and who was evidently sincerely religious, though the English accused him of hypocrisy. According to Russell, who gives details which are wanting elsewhere, the two marched together unopposed into the county of Limerick, where one of Sir John’s men outraged a camp-follower. Fitzmaurice ordered him for execution, but Sir John, ‘little regarding the Pope’s commission, and not respecting murder or rape,’ refused to allow this, and Fitzmaurice, seeing that he could not maintain discipline, departed with a few horsemen and kernes, nominally on a pilgrimage to Holy Cross Abbey, really perhaps to enter Connaught through Tipperary and Limerick, and thus get into Maltby’s rear. In doing so he had to pass through the territory of a sept of Burkes, of whom some had been with him in his former enterprise. Fitzmaurice was in want of draught animals, and took two horses out of the plough. The poor peasants raised an alarm, and at a ford some miles south of Castle Connell the chief’s son Theobald, who was learned in the English language and law, and who may have had Protestant leanings, appeared with a strong party. He was already on the look-out, and had summoned MacBrien to his aid.

Death of Fitzmaurice.

Fitzmaurice urged Burke to join the Catholic enterprise; he answered that he would be loyal to the Queen, and a fight followed. Burke had but two musketeers with him, one of whom aimed at Fitzmaurice, who was easily known by his yellow doublet. The ball penetrated his chest, and feeling himself mortally wounded, he made a desperate dash forward, killed Theobald Burke and one of his brothers, and then fell, with or without a second wound. ‘He found,’ says Hooker characteristically, ‘that the Pope’s blessings and warrants, his agnus Dei and his grains, had not those virtues to save him as an Irish staff, or a bullet, had to kill him.’ The Burkes returned after the death of their leader, and, having confessed to Dr. Allen, the best of the Geraldines breathed his last. Lest the knowledge of his death should prove fatal to his cause, a kinsman cut off Fitzmaurice’s head and left the bare trunk under an oak—an evidence of haste which shows that there was no great victory to boast of. The body was nevertheless recognised, carried to Kilmallock, and hanged on a gibbet; and the soldiers barbarously amused themselves by shooting at their dead enemy. ‘Well,’ says Russell, ‘there was no remedy—God’s will must be done, punishing the sins of the father in the death of the son. Fitzmaurice made a goodly end of his life (only that he bore arms against his sovereign princess, the Queen of England). His death was the beginning of the decay of the honourable house of Desmond, out of which never issued so brave a man in all perfection, both for qualities of the mind and body, besides the league between him and others for the defence of religion.’[21]

To face page 24.

London: Longmans & Co.

Edw^d. Weller, lith.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Strype’s Annals, Eliz. lib. i. ch. i. and ii. i. Walsingham to Cecil, February 25, 1571, and Burghley to Walsingham, June 5, both in Digges’s Complete Ambassador. Lady Northumberland to Stukeley, June 21, 1571, in Wright’s Elizabeth. Answers of Martin de Guerres, master mariner, February 12, 1572; Examination of Walter French, March 30; report of John Crofton, April 13.

[2] Stukeley to Mistress Julian (from Rome) October 24, 1575, in Wright’s Elizabeth, Motley’s Dutch Republic, part v. ch. v.; Strype’s Annals, Eliz. book ii. ch. viii.; Wilson to Burghley and Walsingham, February 19, 1577, and to the Queen, May 1, both in the Calendar of S. P. Foreign; Henry Cheek to Burghley, March 29, 1577; Strype’s Life of Sir John Cheek. Stukeley left Don John at the end of February, 1577.

[3] Intelligence received by Drury, February 19, 1577, and April 16; Examination of Edmund MacGawran and others May 10; Paulet to Wilson, August, 1577, in Murdin’s State Papers.

[4] Edmundus Tanner Patri Generali Everardo, October 11, 1577, in Hogan’s Hibernia Ignatiana.

[5] Sanders to Allen, Nov. 6, 1577 (from Madrid) in Cardinal Allen’s Memorials; James Fitzmaurice’s instruction and advice (now among the undated papers of 1578) written in Latin and signed ‘spes nostra Jesus et Maria, Jacobus Geraldinus Desmoniæ.’

[6] This passport, given at Cadiz in April, 1578, ‘by command of his Excellency,’ is in Sidney Papers, i. 263. O’Sullivan’s Hist. Cath. lib. iv. cap. xv. O’Daly’s Geraldines, ch. xx. Strype’s Annals, Eliz. book ii. ch. xiii.

[7] Letter signed by ‘Donatus Episcopus Aladensis,’ David Wolf the Jesuit, and two other Irish priests, printed from the Vatican archives in Brady’s Episcopal Succession, ii. p. 174. Edmund Hogan to Queen Elizabeth (from Morocco) June 11, 1577; Dr. Wilson to——, June 14, 1578, in Wright’s Elizabeth.

[8] Drury to Walsingham, Jan. 6 and 12, 1579; to Burghley, Sept. 21, 1578; Drury and Fitton to Burghley, Oct. 10, 1578; Fitton to Burghley, Feb. 22, 1579. Note of services &c., town of Knockfergus in Carew, ii. p. 148.

[9] Drury to Walsingham, Jan. 6, 1579 (enclosing an O’Neill pedigree); to Burghley, Jan. 6 and Feb. 11, 1579; to the Privy Council, March 14; Fitton to Burghley, Feb. 12, 1579.

[10] Patrick Lumbarde to his wife (from Lisbon) Feb. 20, 1579; Nic. Walshe to Drury, Feb. 27; Declaration of James Fagan and Leonard Sutton, March 23; Drury to Walsingham, March 6; Desmond to Drury, April 20; Examination of Dominick Creagh, April 22, and of Thomas Monvell of Kinsale, mariner, April 30.

[11] July 17, 1579. Examination (at Waterford) of John Picot of Jersey, master, and Fr. Gyrard, of St. Malo, pilot, July 24; Lord Justice and Council to the Privy Council, July 22; Sir Owen O’Sullivan to Mayor of Cork, July 16; Portreeve of Dingle to Earl of Desmond, July 17. The story of the Bristol crew is told in Mr. Froude’s 27th chapter, ‘from a Simancas MS.’

[12] Lord Justice and Council to the Privy Council with enclosure, July 22, 1579; Waterhouse to Walsingham, July 23 and 26; Mayor of Waterford to Drury, July 25.

[13] James Golde to the Mayor of Limerick, July 22, 1579.

[14] Desmond, abp. of Cashel (Magrath), and Wm. Apsley to Drury, July 20, 1579; Waterhouse to Walsingham, July 23 and 24; Commission to Sir H. Gilbert, July 24; James Golde to the Mayor of Limerick, July 22.

[15] The signature is ‘In omni tribulatione spes mea Jesus et Maria, James Geraldyne.’

[16] These two declarations are at Lambeth. In the Carew Calendar, they are wrongly placed under 1569, when Pius V. was still alive. They are printed in full in the Irish (Kilkenny) Archæological Journal, N.S. ii. 364.

[17] Desmond to Drury, July 19, 1579; Russell. The letter from Desmond’s servant, William of Danubi, to Fitzmaurice, calendared under July 1579 (No. 37) certainly belongs to the end of 1577, just after Rory Oge had burned Naas.

[18] James Fitzmaurice to Alexander, Ustun, and Randal MacDonnell, July, 1579; these letters, with translation, were printed by O’Donovan in Irish (Kilkenny) Archæological Journal, N.S. ii. 362; Strype’s Parker, lib. iv. cap. 15, and the appendix; Sanders to Ulick Burke in Carew, Oct. 27, 1579. In Cardinal Allen’s Memorials is a letter dated April 5, 1579, in which Allen calls Sanders his ‘special friend.’

[19] Fitzmaurice to Desmond and Kildare, July 18, 1579; Waterhouse to Walsingham, July 24; notes of Mr. Herbert’s speech, Aug. 3; Maltby’s discourse April 8, 1580; Hooker in Holinshed.

[20] Hooker and Camden for the English view of Desmond’s conduct; Russell and O’Daly for the other side, and also O’Sullivan, ii. iv. 15. The picture is reproduced in the Irish (Kilkenny) Archæological Journal, 3rd S. i. 483. In his 27th chapter Mr. Froude quotes Mendoza to the effect that Davells was Desmond’s guest; but Hooker says distinctly that he ‘lodged in one Rice’s house, who kept a victualling-house and wine tavern.’ In a letter of Oct. 10, 1579, Desmond says his brother James was ‘enticed into the detestable act.’ E. Fenton to Walsingham, July 11, 1580; Lord Justice and Earl of Kildare to the Privy Council, Aug. 3, 1579. Examination of Friar James O’Hea in Carew, Aug. 17, 1580. Collection of matters to Nov. 1579.

[21] Irish Archæological Journal, 3rd S. i. 384; Four Masters; Camden; Hooker; O’Sullivan, ii. iv. 94. Waterhouse to Walsingham, Aug. 3 and 9, 1579. Fitzmaurice fell shortly before Aug. 20. O’Sullivan calls the place Beal Antha an Bhorin, which may be Barrington’s bridge or Boher. This writer, who loves the marvellous, says a Geraldine named Gibbon Duff, was tended among the bushes by a friendly leech, who bound up his eighteen wounds. A wolf came out of the wood and devoured the dirty bandages, but without touching the helpless man. The Four Masters, who wrote under Charles I., praise Theobald Burke and regret his death.

[CHAPTER XXXVII.]

THE DESMOND REBELLION, 1579-1580.

Vacillating policy of England.

Sir John of Desmond at once assumed the vacant command, and Drury warned the English Government that he was no contemptible enemy, though he had not Fitzmaurice’s power of exciting religious enthusiasm, and had yet to show that he had like skill in protracting a war. The Munster Lords were generally unsound, the means were wanting to withstand any fresh supply of foreigners, and there could be no safety till every spark of rebellion was extinguished. The changes of purpose at Court were indeed more than usually frequent and capricious. English statesmen, who were well informed about foreign intrigues, were always inclined to despise the diversion which Pope or Spaniard might attempt in Ireland; and the Netherlands were very expensive. Moreover, the Queen was amusing herself with Monsieur Simier. Walsingham, however, got leave to send some soldiers to Ireland, and provisions were ordered to be collected at Bristol and Barnstaple. Then came the news that Fitzmaurice had not above 200 or 300 men, and the shipping of stores was countermanded. On the arrival of letters from Ireland, the danger was seen to be greater, and Walsingham was constrained to acknowledge that foreign potentates were concerned, ‘notwithstanding our entertainment of marriage.’ One thousand men were ordered to be instantly raised in Wales, 300 to be got ready at Berwick, extraordinary posts were laid to Holyhead, Tavistock, and Bristol. Money and provisions were promised. Sir John Perrott received a commission, as admiral, to cruise off Ireland with five ships and 1,950 men, and to go against the Scilly pirates when he had nothing better to do. Then Fitzmaurice’s death was announced, and again the spirit of parsimony prevailed. The soldiers, who were actually on board, were ordered to disembark. These poor wretches, the paupers and vagrants of Somersetshire, and as such selected by the justices, had been more than a fortnight at Bristol, living on bare rations at sixpence a day, and Wallop with great difficulty procured an allowance of a halfpenny a mile to get them home. The troops despatched from Barnstaple were intercepted at Ilfracombe, and all the provisions collected were ordered to be dispersed. Then again the mood changed, and the Devonshire men were allowed to go.[22]

The Munster people sympathise with the rebellion.

Death of Drury, who is succeeded by Sir William Pelham.

The Earl of Kildare, who was probably anxious to avoid fresh suspicion, gave active help to the Irish government, ‘making,’ as Waterhouse testified, ‘no shew to pity names or kindred.’ He exerted his influence with the gentry of the Pale to provide for victualling the army, and he accompanied the Lord Justice in person on his journey to Munster. The Queen wrote him a special letter of thanks, and Drury declared that he found him constant and resolute to spend his life in the quarrel. The means at the Lord Justice’s disposal were scanty enough:—400 foot, of which some were in garrison, and 200 horse. He himself was extremely ill, but struggled on from Limerick to Cork, and from Cork to Kilmallock, finding little help and much sullen opposition; but the arrival of Perrott, with four ships, at Baltimore seemed security enough against foreign reinforcements to the rebels, and Maltby prevented John of Desmond from communicating with Connaught. Sanders contrived to send letters, but one received by Ulick Burke was forwarded, after some delay, to the government, and Desmond still wavered, though the Doctor tried to persuade him that Fitzmaurice’s death was a provision of God for his fame. ‘That devilish traitor Sanders,’ wrote Chancellor Gerrard, ‘I hear—by examination of some persons who were in the forts with him and heard his four or five masses a day—that he persuaded all men that it is lawful to kill any English Protestants, and that he hath authority to warrant all such from the Pope, and absolution to all who can so draw blood; and how deeply this is rooted in the traitors’ hearts may appear by John of Desmond’s cruelty, hanging poor men of Chester, the best pilots in these parts, taken by James, and in hold with John, whom he so executed maintenant upon the understanding of James his death.’ No one, for love or money, would arrest Sanders, and Drury could only hope that the soldiers might take him by chance, or that ‘some false brother’ might betray him. Desmond came to the camp at Kilmallock, but would not, or could not, do any service. Drury had him arrested on suspicion, and, according to English accounts, he made great professions of loyalty before he was liberated. The Irish annalists say his professions were voluntary, that he was promised immunity for his territory in return, and that the bargain was broken by the English. Between the two versions it is impossible to decide. The Earl did accompany Drury on an expedition intended to drive John of Desmond out of the great wood on the borders of Cork and Limerick. At the place now called Springfield, the English were worsted in a chance encounter, their Connaught allies running away rather than fight against the Geraldines. In this inglorious fray fell two tried old captains and a lieutenant, who had fought in the Netherlands, and the total loss was considerable. Drury’s health broke down after this, and instead of scouring Aherlow Woods the stout old soldier was carried in a litter to his deathbed at Waterford. As he passed through Tipperary, Lady Desmond came to him and gave up her only son as a hostage—an unfortunate child who was destined to be the victim of state policy.

Sir William Pelham, another Suffolk man, had just arrived in Dublin, and was busy organising the defence of the Pale against possible inroads by the O’Neills. He was at once chosen Lord Justice of the Council, and the Queen confirmed their choice.

Drury was an able and honest, though severe governor, and deserves well of posterity for taking steps to preserve the records in Birmingham Tower. Sanders gave out that his death was a judgment for fighting against the Pope, forgetting that Protestants might use like reasoning about Fitzmaurice.[23]

Desmond still hesitates.

Maltby was temporary Governor of Munster by virtue of Drury’s commission, and had about 150 horse and 900 foot, the latter consisting, in great measure, of recruits from Devonshire. He summoned Desmond to meet him at Limerick, and sent him a proclamation to publish against the rebels. The Earl would not come, and desired that freeholders and others attending him might be excepted from the proclamation. Maltby, who had won a battle in the meantime, then required him to give up Sanders, ‘that papistical arrogant traitor, that deceiveth the people with false lies,’ or to lodge him so that he might be surprised. Upon this the Earl merely marvelled that Maltby should spoil his poor tenants. ‘I wish to your lordship as well as you wish to me,’ was the Englishman’s retort, ’and for my being here, if it please your Lordship to come to me you shall know the cause.’ It did not please him, and the governor made no further attempt at conciliation.[24]

Maltby defeats the rebels.

The encounter which gave Maltby such confidence in negotiation took place on October 3 at Monasternenagh, an ancient Cistercian abbey on the Maigue. The ground was flat, and Sir William Stanley, the future traitor of Deventer, said the rebels came on as resolutely as the best soldiers in Europe. Sir John and Sir James of Desmond had over 2,000 men, of which 1,200 were choice gallowglasses, and Maltby had about 1,000. Desmond visited his brothers in the early morning, gave them his blessing, and then withdrew to Askeaton, leaving his men behind.

‘He is now,’ said Maltby, ‘so far in, that if her Majesty will take advantage of his doings his forfeited living will countervail her Highness’s charges; and Stanley remarked that the Queen might make instead of losing money by the rebellion. After a sharp fight, the Geraldines were worsted, and the Sheehy gallowglasses, which were Desmond’s chief strength, lost very heavily. The two brothers escaped by the speed of their horses and bore off the consecrated banner, ‘which I believe,’ said Maltby, ‘was anew scratched about the face, for they carried it through the woods and thorns in post haste.’ Sanders, if he was present, escaped, but his fellow-Jesuit, Allen, was killed. In a highly rhetorical passage Hooker describes this enthusiast’s proceedings, and likens his fall to that of the prophets of Baal. Maltby’s commission died with Drury, and he stood on the defensive as soon as he heard of the event.[25]

Desmond and Ormonde.

Ormonde had been about three years in England, looking after his own interests, and binding himself more closely to the party of whom Sussex was the head. Disturbance in Munster of course demanded his presence, and he prepared to start soon after the landing of James Fitzmaurice. ‘I pray you,’ he wrote to Walsingham, ‘do more in this my cause than you do for yourself, or else the world will go hard.’

Desmond is forced to say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’

In thanking the Secretary for his good offices he said, ‘I am ready to serve the Queen with my wonted good-will. I hope she will not forget my honour in place of service, though she be careless of my commodity.’ A month later he was in Ireland, and after spending some days at Kilkenny, was present at the delivery of the sword to Pelham, whom he prepared to accompany to the south. He had the Queen’s commission as general in Munster, and Kildare was left to guard the Ulster border. Little knowing the man he had to deal with, Desmond wrote to bid him weigh his cause as his own. ‘Maltby,’ he said, ‘is a knave that hath no authority, who has been always an enemy to mine house.’ To some person at Court, perhaps to Sidney, he recounted his services. Before the landing of Fitzmaurice he had executed three scholars, of which one was known to be a bishop. He had at once given notice of the landing, had blockaded Smerwick, and had helped to drive off the O’Flaherties, so that the traitors had like to starve. After Fitzmaurice’s death he had broken down the fort and had been ready to victual Drury’s army, had not the latter prepared to support his men by spoiling the Desmond tenants. Finally, he had delivered his son, and would have done more, but that many of his men had deserted while he was under arrest. All along he had feared the fate of Davells for his wife and son, knowing that his brother John hated them mortally. Maltby had none the less treated him as an enemy, and had in particular ‘most maliciously defaced the old monument of my ancestors, fired both the abbey, the whole town, and all the corn thereabouts, and ceased not to shoot at my men within Askeaton Castle.’ The letters which Ormonde received from Desmond—for there seem to have been more than one—were handed over to Pelham, who directed the writer to meet him between Cashel and Limerick, or at least at the latter place. He was to lose no time, for the Lord Justice was determined not to lie idle. Desmond did not come, but he had an interview with Ormonde for the discussion of certain articles dictated by Pelham. The principal were that Desmond should surrender Sanders and other strangers, give up Carrigafoyle or Askeaton, repair to the Lord Justice, and prosecute his rebellious brother to the uttermost. The penalty for refusing these terms was that he should be proclaimed traitor. After conferring with Ormonde, he wrote to say that he had been arrested when he went to the late Lord Justice. He refused to give up Askeaton, perhaps thinking it impregnable, but was ready to do his best against Sanders and his unnatural brethren if his other castles were restored to him. Pelham answered that the proclamation was ready and should be published in three days, unless Desmond came sooner to his senses. Still protesting his loyalty, he refused to make any further concession. A last chance was given him; if he would repair to Pelham’s presence by eight next morning he should have licence to go to England. No answer was returned, and the proclamation was published as Pelham had promised. By a singular coincidence, and as if to presage the ruin of the house of Desmond, a great piece of the wall of Youghal fell of itself upon the same day. The die was cast, and the fate of the Geraldine power was sealed.[26]

Desmond is proclaimed traitor. November, 1579.

The proclamation asserted that Desmond had practised with foreign princes, that he had suffered Fitzmaurice and his Spaniards to lurk in his country, and that he had been privy to the murder of Davells and others. He was accused of feigning loyalty and of purposely allowing the garrison to escape from their untenable post at Smerwick. It was said that he had gone from the Lord Justice into Kerry against express orders, had seen that the strangers were well treated—being, in fact, in his pay—and had even placed some of them in charge of castles. He had joined himself openly with the proclaimed traitors his brothers, and with Dr. Sanders, that odious, unnatural, and pestiferous traitor; and quite lately his household servants had been engaged with the Queen’s troops at Rathkeale. Perhaps the strongest piece of evidence was a paper found in a portmanteau belonging to Dr. Allen, ‘one of the traitors lately slain,’ which showed how the artillery found at Smerwick had been distributed by Desmond among the rebels. To detach waverers it was announced that all who appeared unconditionally before the Lord Justice or the Earl of Ormonde should be received as liege subjects. Besides Pelham, Waterhouse, Maltby, and Patrick Dobbyn, Mayor of Waterford, the subscribers to the proclamation were all Butlers; Ormonde and his three brothers, Lords Mountgarret and Dunboyne, and Sir Theobald Butler of Cahir. Some of these had been rebels, but all were now united to overwhelm the Geraldines and possibly to win their lands. ‘There was,’ said Waterhouse, ‘great practice that the Earl of Ormonde should have dealt for a pacification, but when it came to the touch he dealt soundly—and will, I think, follow the prosecution with as much earnestness as any to whom it might have been committed.’ He was, in fact, enough of an Irishman to wish that even Desmond might have a last chance; but when it came to choosing between loyalty and rebellion his choice was as quickly made as his father’s had been when he resisted the blandishments of Silken Thomas.[27]

Weakness of the Government.

The Queen grumbles.

Finding himself in no condition to attack so strong a place as Askeaton, Pelham returned to Dublin, and Ormonde went to Waterford to prepare for a western campaign. He wrote to tell Walsingham of his vast expenses. His own company of 100 men was so well horsed and armed that none could gainsay it; but the ships were unvictualled, and Youghal and Kinsale were doubtfully loyal. ‘I have the name of 800 footmen left in all my charge, and they be not 600 able men, as Mr. Fenton can tell, for I caused my Lord Justice to take view of them. They be sickly, unapparelled, and almost utterly unvictualled. There are 150 horsemen with me that be not 100.... My allowance is such as I am ashamed to write of.... I long to be in service among the traitors, who hope for foreign power.’ But the Queen was very loth to spend money, and very angry at the imperfect intelligence from Ireland. The number of Spaniards who landed was never known. There were certainly more in the country than Fitzmaurice had at Smerwick; and the number of harbours between Kinsale and Tralee was most convenient for contraband cargoes. Her Majesty also grumbled about Pelham’s new knights, lest they should be emboldened to ‘crave support to maintain their degree.’ There were but two, Gerrard the Chancellor, and Vice-Treasurer Fitton; both had served long and well, and it was customary for every new governor to confer some honours. Peremptory orders were sent that the pension list should be cut down, and the Queen even talked of reducing the scanty garrison. She was offended at the proclamation of Desmond, as she had been five years before, and found fault with everything and everybody. Pelham said the proclamation was an absolute necessity, since no person of any consideration in Munster would stir a finger until ‘assured by this public act that your Majesty will deal thoroughly for his extirpation.’ Before the proclamation, at the time of the fight with Maltby, Desmond had guarded the Pope’s ensign with all his own servants, and ‘in all his skirmishes and outrages since the proclamation crieth Papa Aboo, which is the Pope above, even above you and your imperial crown.’ In despair the Lord Justice begged to be recalled, but Ormonde, who knew Elizabeth’s humour, made up his mind to do what he could with small means. At this juncture, and as if to show that he had not been proclaimed for nothing, Desmond committed an outrage which for ever deprived him of all hope of pardon.[28]

Desmond threatens Youghal.

Sack of Youghal

The town of Youghal, which had always been under the influence of his family, was at this time fervently Catholic. The Jesuits kept a school there, and the townsmen had been ‘daily instructed in Christian doctrine, in the celebration of the Sacrament, and in good morals, as far as the time permitted, but not without hindrance.’ The corporation were uneasy, and sent two messengers, of which one was a priest, to fetch powder from Cork. Sir Warham St. Leger, who had been acting as Provost Marshal of Munster since Carter’s death, gave the powder or sent it, and offered to send one of Sir Humphrey Gilbert’s well-armed ships to protect the town, which the fallen wall laid open to attack. But the corporation refused to incur the expense of supporting Gilbert’s sailors or Ormonde’s soldiers, and made little or no preparation for their own defence. On Friday, November 13, Desmond, accompanied by the Seneschal of Imokilly, encamped on the south side of Youghal, near the Franciscan priory, which his own ancestors had founded. He gave out that his intentions were harmless, and that he had come only to send messengers to Ormonde, who could prove that he had been wrongfully proclaimed traitor. Meanwhile, he demanded wine for his men, and the mayor, who was either a fool or a traitor, let him take the ferry-boat, which was the only means by which the town might be relieved from the Waterford side. The Geraldines were to take two tuns of wine, and then depart; but during Saturday and Sunday morning they had frequent conversations with their friends on the walls. The result was that they mustered with evidently hostile intentions, and that the mayor ordered the gunners in the round tower, which commanded the landing-place, not to fire first, although they had a ‘saker charged with a round shot, a square shot, and a handspike of an ell long, wherewith they were like to have spoiled many of them. One elderly man of the town commanded not to shoot off lest the rebels would be angry therewith, and threatened to kill the gunner if he would give fire.’ Other sympathisers had already carried out ladders and hung ropes over the walls. With such help the rebels easily entered the breach, and in an hour all was over. Wives and maidens were ravished, and the town was ruthlessly sacked. Many of the inhabitants helped the work, ‘notwithstanding that they saw the ravishing of their women, the spoiling of their goods and burning of their houses, and that (which is most detestable treason), notwithstanding that they saw the Earl and Sir John, the Seneschal of Imokilly, and divers others draw down in the court-house of the town her Majesty’s arms, and most despitefully with their daggers to cut it and thrust it through.’ ‘This they did,’ Ormonde added, ‘as an argument of their cankered and alienated hearts.’ The plunder was considerable, and the Four Masters sympathetically record that many a poor indigent person became rich and affluent by the spoils of this town. Some of Lord Barry’s men were present, and most of the plunder was carried into his country and sold there. As one of Desmond’s followers filled his pouch with gold and silver from a broken chest, he said to his master that the thing was very pleasant if not a dream. Dermot O’Sullivan, the historian’s father, stood by and warned the Earl that the sweetest dreams might be but a mockery. The houses and gates were burned, and when Ormonde came a few weeks later he found the ruins in sole possession of a friar, who was spared for his humanity in securing Christian burial to Henry Davells. The mayor was caught and hanged at his own door, and it is hard to say that he did not deserve it.[29]

Ormonde’s revenge.

The garrisons.

A fortnight after the sack of Youghal, Ormonde was in the field, and thus describes the nature of his three weeks’ campaign: ‘I was in Connello the 6th of this month, between Askeaton and Newcastle, two of the Earl’s chief houses, and preyed, spoiled, and burned the country, even to the mountain of Slieve Logher, and returned to Adare without sight of the rebels. In the county of Cork I burned John of Desmond’s town and castle called Lisfinnen, with all his land in Coshbride.’ He then returned to Tipperary, and let his officers go to Dublin for a holiday. The soldiers had had bread only for one day out of four, and neither wine, beer, nor spirits. Beef and forage were scarce, and they had passed rivers, wading to the stomach, often seven times a day, and never less than three. They had to bivouack in the open, and camp-fires were hard to light in December. ‘It is easier,’ said Wallop, ‘to talk at home of Irish wars than to be in them.’ The garrisons had not a very pleasant time of it either. Sir George Bourchier was at Kilmallock with 200 men whose pay was two months in arrear. He had but fifty pounds of powder, and was unable to join Ormonde, for the chief magistrate locked the gates, and the inhabitants declared that they would vacate the town if he deserted them. Desmond was expected daily, and the fate of Youghal was before their eyes. Sir William Stanley and George Carew had been left by Maltby at Adare. Between them and Askeaton lay Kerry, which Sanders, in the Pope’s name, had granted to Sir James of Desmond. One morning early Stanley and Carew passed 120 of their men over the Maigue in one of the small boats, then and now called cots, which scarcely held ten at a time. After spoiling the country and putting to the sword whomsoever they thought good, they were attacked by Sir James, the knight of Glin, and the Spaniards who garrisoned Balliloghan Castle. Though the enemy were nearly four to one, Stanley and Carew managed to keep them in check till they reached the river, and then passed all their men over without loss, they themselves being the last to cross. It may be supposed, though Hooker does not say so, that they were in some measure covered by the guns of the castle. A little later Desmond tried to lure the garrison out by driving cattle under their walls, failing which ‘he sent a fair young harlot as a present to the constable, by whose means he hoped to get the house; but the constable, learning from whence she came, threw her (as is reported to me), with a stone about her neck, into the river.’[30]

Rumours from abroad.

Ormonde’s troubles.

The English Government urged Pelham to go to Munster himself, and he waited for provisions at Waterford. Reports of the rebels’ successes came to England constantly from Paris, for the war had become a religious one. By every ship sailing to France or Spain, ‘Sanders,’ said Burghley, ‘sent false libels of the strength of his partners, and of the weakness of the Queen’s part.’ He spread rumours through Ireland that a great fleet was coming from Spain and Italy, bringing infinite stores of wine, corn, rice, and oil from the Pope and King Philip. Munster was to be Desmond’s; Ulster Tirlogh Luineach’s, and a nuncio was soon to come with full powers. It was reported that Desmond and Sanders distrusted each other, and that the latter was watched lest he should try to escape. His credit was probably restored by the arrival of two Spanish frigates at Dingle. It had been reported in Spain that both Desmond and Sanders were killed, but after conferring with the doctor, and learning that the rebellion was not yet crushed, the strangers promised help before the end of May. Sanders pleaded hard for St. Patrick’s day, lamenting that he had been made ‘an instrument to promise to perfect Christians what should not be performed.’ Still, through the spring and summer he confidently declared that help was coming, and in the meantime both he and Desmond were hunted like partridges upon the mountains. Pelham begged the Queen to consider what her position would have been had a stronger force landed with James Fitzmaurice, and to harden her heart to spend the necessary money. Ormonde was still more outspoken, and we know from others that his complaints were well founded. ‘I required,’ he said, ‘to be victualled, that I might bestow the captains and soldiers under my leading in such places as I knew to be fitted for the service, and most among the rebels. I was answered there was none. I required the ordnance for batteries many times and could have none, nor cannot as yet, for my Lord Justice sayeth to me, it is not in the land. Money I required for the army to supply necessary wants, and could have but 200l., a bare proportion for to leave with an army. Now what any man can do with these wants I leave to your judgment. I hear the Queen mislikes that her service has gone no faster forward, but she suffereth all things needful to be supplied, to want. I would to God I could feed soldiers with the air, and throw down castles with my breath, and furnish naked men with a wish, and if these things might be done the service should on as fast as her Highness would have it. This is the second time that I have been suffered to want all these things, having the like charge that now I have, but there shall not be a third; for I protest I will sooner be committed as a prisoner by the heels than to be thus dealt with again; taking charge of service upon me. I am also beholding to some small friends that make (as I understand) the Queen mislike of me for the spoil of Youghal, who most traitorously have played the villains, as by their own examination appeareth, an abstract of which I send to the Council, with letters written by the Earl of Desmond and his brethren to procure rebellion. There be here can write lies, as in writing Kilkenny was burned, before which, though it be a poor weak town, the rebels never came. They bragged they would spoil my country, but I hope if they do they will pay better for it than I did at the burning of theirs.’[31]

Burghley and Walsingham persuade the Queen.

Burghley and Walsingham strove hard to persuade the Queen that her economy would save nothing in the end, and Pelham’s wise obedience in discharging some pensioners conciliated her a little. But he told the ministers that there had been no such peril in Ireland since the conquest, and Burghley agreed that the fire could only be quenched by English power. The conflagration would be great if not checked before the spring, for the Pope stood ever ready to supply Spanish coals, and the barbarous people ever willing to receive them. But even Burghley thought some one was to blame for proclaiming Desmond before there were means to punish him. The Queen, he told Ormonde, had yielded at last; ‘money is sent, munition is in lading, and so is victualling for 2,000 men for three months, and for men to serve it is certain there are more in charge of the Queen’s pay than ever there were in Ireland those hundreds of years, and for anything we hear no open hostilities in any part of Ireland but these in Munster, so as now merely I must say Butleraboo, against all that cry as I hear in a new language Papeaboo. God send you only your heart’s desire, which I know is agreeable to mine, to banish or vanquish those cankered Desmonds and their sequels, and to plant again the Queen’s Majesty’s honour and reputation.... I and others have persuaded her Majesty that you may have authority to reclaim by offer of pardon all such as have offended, saving the Earl and his brothers, and such as murdered Davells, and such as have come from foreign parts to stir up the rebellion, among which I mean Sanders, that viper, whom of all others the Queen’s Majesty is most desirous that you could take hold of.[32]

Miseries of Irish service.

Ormonde sent Zouch and Stanley to garrison Youghal, who lost two or three men in passing the Blackwater at Lismore. The Spaniards set fire to Strancally Castle, where some of the plunder had been stored, and ran out at the first sound of the English drums. Some were shot or drowned, and the remainder crossed over to Decies in boats, ‘where they were very friendly welcomed in sight of the soldiers.’ Sir James Fitzgerald of Dromana was loyal, but his followers preferred Desmond.

Stanley and Zouch went on to Youghal, driving before them 140 cows and 300 sheep, with which they fed their men. The poor soldiers suffered dreadfully from rain and cold, for they were penniless, and unroofed houses gave but scant shelter. For horses there was no food. Nor was this misery peculiar to Munster, since Athlone required repair to the extent of 500l., Maryborough and Philipstown did not keep their defenders dry, and the wall in each case was ready to fall into the ditch. Leighlin and Dungarvan were almost untenable. Dublin Castle was much dilapidated, and the timber of Kilmallock was rotting. English artificers must be brought over to repair damages, ‘for lack of skill and desire to gain by the work had been the ruin of all.’ On the other hand there were signs of wavering among the rebels. A ship with 400 soldiers from the Pope was driven ashore at Corunna, and four-fifths of the men perished. Sanders was suspected of wishing to steal away, and Desmond had him carefully watched.[33]

Foreign sympathisers.

At this juncture one French and one Spanish vessel arrived in Dingle Bay with letters for Desmond and earnest inquiries for Dr. Sanders. They were well received by the country people, and the bearers of the letters were conducted to Castle Island, where they found the men they sought. The foreigners said it had been reported at the French and Spanish Courts that no Geraldine was left alive. Sanders ‘railed and reviled them’ for not performing their promises to perfect Christians; but they still maintained that 20,000 were ready in Spain to sail with James Fitzmaurice’s sons, and that France would also help as soon as the truth was known. One Owen O’Madden, a foster-brother of Desmond who was present, fell into Ormonde’s hands, and reported that Desmond and Clancare had solemnly sworn to join their forces; ‘which oath was ministered by Dr. Sanders, having a mass-book under their feet and a cloth spread over their heads.’ He believed that Lord Fitzmaurice would also join them. The confederacy would command a force of 600 gallowglasses, 1,600 kerne, and 80 horse, with 200 musketeers. Sympathy with the Geraldines was universal among the common people, but men who had something to lose were in no great hurry to commit themselves. ‘I suppose,’ said Pelham, ‘it is now considered that what foreign prince soever come, he will not allow to any freeholder more acres than he hath already, nor more free manner of life than they have under our Sovereign. And further I am told that some of the traitors themselves begin to consider that the invaders will put no great trust in those that do betray their natural prince and country.’[34]

The nature of Irish warfare.

Pelham left Waterford about the middle of February, having with great difficulty made such preparations as would give likelihood of a successful campaign. Unable to feed pack-horses he had his provisions carried by 300 strong countrymen, and he vigorously describes the pleasures of Irish warfare. ‘Touching the comparison between the soldier of Berwick and the soldier of Ireland, alleging him of Berwick to serve in greater toil... all the soldiers of Christendom must give place in that to the soldiers of Ireland; and so much difference for ease... as is between an alderman of London and a Berwick soldier.’ And surely, said Captain Zouch, ‘the wars here is most painful, in respect that of force we make great and long journeys without victual, by which means we have great sicknesses, and, do what we can, we shall never fight with them unless they have a will to fight with us.’ But a good spirit prevailed, and some companies stood so much on their reputation that they begged to be mustered, in order that their wants might be known and supplied.

Pelham and Ormonde’s campaign.

State of Kerry.

Ormonde joined the Lord Justice at Clonmel, where it was arranged that the Butlers should guard the eastern end of the Aherlow fastness. Pelham proposed to make all the country from Askeaton to Dingle ‘as bare a country as ever Spaniard set his foot in.’ At Limerick he spent more than a fortnight listening to reports of what was going on in Kerry and in Spain, and waiting for Wallop and Maltby. On March 10, he met Ormonde at Rathkeale, and each assumed his own share in the work of destruction. The Earl took the Shannon side, the Lord Justice kept inland, spoiling the country far and wide, and meeting with no enemy. Near Shanet Castle, the original seat of the Desmonds, from which their war-cry was derived, the two camps were not far apart, and the country was scoured to the foot of the mountain in which the Feale and the Blackwater take their rise. According to the Four Masters, they killed ‘blind and feeble men, women, boys and girls, sick persons, idiots, and old people.’ Four hundred were killed in the woods on the first day, and everything that would burn was burned. The next camp was at Glin, where provisions had been collected, and thither came Lord Fitzmaurice, who thought it time to declare himself on the side of the strongest. Pelham and Ormonde then determined to cross the mountain into Kerry, having heard that ships with stores had arrived at Dingle. Desmond had already gone that way, in the belief that the ships were Spanish. Passing the Feale a little above Listowel, the army marched unopposed to Tralee, and on the march Patrick Fitzmaurice, heir of the house of Lixnaw, followed his father’s example. Everything between Castle Island and Tralee was already destroyed by the rebels, and Tralee itself was burned, with the exception of the abbey. Three hundred men, under Sir William Stanley, were detached to Castlemaine, and Pelham and Ormonde started for Dingle, but were driven back by a furious snowstorm from the foot of the Corkaguiny mountains. In the meantime the ships had gone to the Shannon, and Pelham, having no means of feeding the men, was forced to withdraw Stanley’s division from Castlemaine. Clancare had promised to come to Tralee, but excused himself on account of the floods. The same reason prevented Pelham from recrossing the mountains, and he lost men and horses in fording the Feale near its mouth. The ships had arrived at Carrigafoyle, and immediate preparations were made to besiege the castle, which was held by nineteen Spaniards and fifty natives. The commandant was Captain Julian, ‘who reported himself to be a very notable engineer,’ and who had undertaken the defence at Lady Desmond’s request.

Siege of Carrigafoyle.

Fate of the garrison.

While the guns were being landed, Pelham went forward to view the place, and had a narrow escape from a shot. ‘The villains of Spaniards, and the traitors,’ said Ormonde, ‘railed like themselves at Her Majesty, especially the Spaniards, who had named the King of Spain King of Ireland, which, or it be long, God willing, they shall dearly pay for.’ Julian probably trusted in the strength of the castle, which was eighty-six feet high, surrounded by water, and defended by several outworks. On the land side there were two separate ditches, divided by a wall, and a strong earthwork. Vessels of 100 tons could go up to the wall at high tide. The pieces used in the attack were three cannons, one culver, and one culverin—not a formidable battery according to modern ideas, but too much for the old castle, even with Julian’s additional defences. The hyperbolical Four Masters say such guns had never yet been heard in those parts, and that their tremendous and terror-awakening roar penetrated every glen from Mizen Head to Tuam. A cannonade of six hours on two successive days was enough to make a practicable breach, both in the barbican and in the inner walls, which crushed many as they crumbled. The storming party soon mastered all but one turret, which stood farthest from the battery and was still intact. The fire was directed upon this point, and two or three shots dislodged the garrison, of whom, says Zouch, ‘there escaped not one, neither man, woman, nor child.’ Those who swam were shot in the water, others were put to the sword, and a few who surrendered, including one woman, were hanged in the camp. Captain Julian was kept prisoner for two or three days and then hanged. The people began to curse Desmond for bringing all these misfortunes upon them. He answered that, if no help from Pope or Spaniard came before Whit Sunday, ‘he should seek a strange country and leave them to make their compositions.’ The castles of Balliloghan and Askeaton were abandoned by their defenders when they saw the fate of Carrigafoyle. Those at Askeaton escaped across the water, having made an unsuccessful attempt to blow up the castle. Pelham occupied this last stronghold, and the war was turned into a hunt.[35]

Maltby in Connaught.

Sanders and Desmond failed to rouse Connaught, which Maltby had retained after Drury’s death. Richard Burke, called Richard-in-Iron, husband of the redoubtable Grace O’Malley, alone ventured to take arms, in reliance upon the remoteness and natural strength of his country. He collected all the loose men of Connaught, and sent for 100 Scots bowmen from Ulster. But the Hebrideans were disinclined to join him, knowing that they would encounter English soldiers and a skilful leader. To prevent them from changing their minds, Maltby secured Sligo, through which they would have to pass. O’Connor Sligo, and O’Rourke—proudest man in Ireland though he was—agreed to Maltby’s terms, and kept their words as to excluding the Scots. He had two English companies, to which he added 100 native horse and 400 foot, who were to pay themselves in Richard-in-Iron’s country, and to cost the Queen nothing. Burke, with 1,000 men, had spoiled the devoted district about Athenry and the northern part of Roscommon, but he fell back to the shore of the Atlantic before Maltby could advance. When all was ready, he went from Athlone to Ballinasloe, where he hung six malefactors, and to Athenry, where he hung another. At Clare Galway he met John and Ulick Burke, full of complaints against each other, between whom he made a truce till he had leisure to hear them. He then marched by Shrule and Ballintubber to Clew Bay. The fate of a castle held by a priest, who was Richard-in-Iron’s chief counsellor, is thus concisely described:—

‘I put the band, both men, women, and children, to the sword, whereupon all the other castles in the country were given up without any resistance.’ Grace O’Malley came to him with some of her kinsmen, but her husband took refuge with his forces in the islands in Clew Bay. Burrishoole Abbey, where Maltby encamped, was chosen by him as the site of a walled town, the people seeming very willing to have such a place among them, and MacWilliam Burke, who accompanied the governor of his own accord, offered land for its support. Richard-in-Iron, finding Maltby too strong for him, said he was ready to submit. Maltby sent for boats to Achill, but the weather was so bad that he could not reach the island for a week. In the meantime more than 100 of Richard’s followers had died of starvation—a little episode which shows what Irish warfare sometimes was. In the end Burke submitted to the garrison which Maltby left at Burrishoole. The return journey to Athlone was accomplished in deep snow. The starved pigs and sheep with lambs came out of the woods into the camp, but they were killed and eaten. During the siege of Carrigafoyle, Maltby was in Scattery Island, and in frequent communication with Pelham, whom he joined at Limerick after the capture of Askeaton.[36]

Man-hunting and cattle-lifting.

Pelham’s policy was to bridle the Desmond district with garrisons, who should be strong enough to eat up the country and to fatten themselves while the rebels starved. He hoped thus to localise the struggle in Kerry, which was too poor to maintain it unaided. The English fleet would look after the seaboard. The garrisons seem to have performed perfectly their rather inglorious duties. Captains Hollingsworth and George Carew had 400 foot at Askeaton, but no horse, the soil being already too bare to support them. The soldiers drove in all the sheep and cows in their neighbourhood, and killed twenty-five of the miserable people who ventured to protect their own. Sir George Bourchier, who had two companies and a troop of horse at Kilmallock, scoured the woods in the Maigue district, and killed sixty rebels in a skirmish, making good his retreat and keeping his spoils. Captain Walker, who held Adare with 200 men, met Desmond himself on one of his forays. The Earl had about 600 followers, who stood well to their pikes for a time, but were ultimately worsted with great loss. Captain Dowdall occupied Cashel with 300 men. With the help of Lord Dunboyne, he penetrated Aherlow wood, and brought off 300 cows and ponies. Pelham himself lay chiefly at Limerick, endeavouring to do his part by diplomacy, while Ormonde was securing his own district against Piers Grace and other marauders.[37]

Gathering at Limerick.

The 10th of May was appointed by the Lord Justice for a general assembly of the Munster lords at Limerick. Ormonde duly appeared, bringing with him White, the Master of the Rolls, who had just returned from England, Lords Dunboyne and Power, and Sir James Fitzgerald, of Decies. Lord Roche and his son Maurice, who had for a time been in rebellion, and Sir Thomas, of Desmond, came from Cork, and two days later they were followed by Lord Barry and by Sir Cormac MacTeigue. Thomond also attended. None of the western chiefs came, but Lord Fitzmaurice took the precaution of sending an excuse.

A new peer.

Sir William Burke, whose son had lost his life in taking that of James Fitzmaurice, received his patent as Baron of Castle Connell, and was invested by Pelham. ‘The poor old gentleman,’ says White with a certain pathos, ‘made many grateful speeches in his language, and afterwards, partly from joy at his own promotion, partly from some natural remembrance of his child, and partly from the unwonted straitness of his new robes, fell suddenly in a swoon at the Lord Justice’s table, so as he was like to have been made and unmade all of a day.’ Seeing no hopes of many more, Pelham conferred with those who were present. Lords Barry and Roche were sworn to forego their private quarrels and to join with Sir Cormac in prosecuting the rebels, under Ormonde’s directions, and particularly in keeping them out of the county of Cork. A like arrangement was made for Waterford, and Ormonde was to encamp at or near Kilmallock. The deliberations at Limerick were concluded by a volley of three or four hundred shots. Pelham himself decided to visit Kerry. As the plot thickened round Desmond, Dr. Sanders redoubled his assurances that help was coming from Spain. Six thousand Italians were reported to be in the Asturias, ready to sail. The Lord Justice believed himself well able to deal with invaders; but want of provisions and arrears of pay in the Queen’s army helped the rebels more effectually than any foreigners could do.[38]

More hares than people.

An Earl’s house.

Desmond, Pelham, and Ormonde.

After many delays Pelham and Ormonde prepared to enter Kerry together. The Earl lay for some time at Cashel, where he enjoyed the society of Sir Nicholas White. The Master of the Rolls complained, with an odd professional conceit, that he had to sleep in the Star Chamber—that is, in the open air. Clancare’s eldest son was also in the camp, and Ormonde declared that if the father wavered in his allegiance he would ‘graft him to the highest tree in his country. ‘In the meantime they probably amused themselves with coursing, for White says her Majesty had many countries forsaken of the people, but well stocked with hares. Pelham left Askeaton on June 11, joined the Adare garrison, and marched up the Maigue valley to Bruree. Edward Fenton, who had an eye for scenery rare in those days, was struck by the pleasantness of the scene. The neighbourhood was explored next day, but neither rebels nor cows were caught in any numbers, and the army crossed the hills which divide Limerick from Cork. Ormonde broke up his camp and joined the Lord Justice near Buttevant, where Lord Roche came to pay his respects, but offered very little help in the way of provisions. Pelham noted this in silence, and led the whole army up the Blackwater, driving the MacCarthies and O’Callaghans with their cattle into the vast woods. Then followed a toilsome and dangerous march through the hills to Castle Island, the Lord Justice riding in advance and taking up the ground himself. ‘The island,’ says White, and the ruins attest it, ‘is a huge, monstrous castle of many rooms, but very filthy and full of cowdung. ‘Desmond and Sanders had but just time to escape, and the Earl’s store of whiskey, the Countess ‘kerchers,’ and certain sacerdotal vestments, which Pelham calls masking furniture, fell into English hands. White secured the sanctus bell, a cruciform lectern, and the cover of a chalice. ‘Never,’ he says, ‘was the bad Earl and his legate a latere so bested in his own privy chamber and county palatine of Kerry.’ The bell and lectern went to his patron, Burghley, ‘with remainder to Mrs. Blanche as toys.’ The valley of the Maine was full of cattle, but the soldiers were too tired to do much. Some horsemen, who were fresher than the rest, managed to bring in 1,500 kine and 2,000 sheep. Desmond and his wife had a narrow escape, being carried on men’s shoulders through the bogs. The best of the cattle were driven off into Clanmaurice, but Lord Fitzmaurice and his son Patrick came into the camp. While Pelham was at Castlemaine, Ormonde searched the recesses of Glenflesk, where he found no cattle, but many of the Munster chieftains, Clancarties, O’Callaghan, MacAuliffe, O’Donoghue More, and MacGibbon. All offered their services, and he took them with him to Pelham at Castlemaine. Thus accompanied, the whole army marched to Dingle, having first erected a breastwork to protect the cattle which had been taken.[39]

Dingle found in ruins.

The peasantry starving.

At Dingle they found the squadron under Winter. Pelham dined on board the admiral, and afterwards went round the fleet, the ‘Swallow’ firing a royal salute when he went ashore. Over 8,000 pounds of biscuit and 10 tuns of beer were sent round to Castlemaine. Dingle was found razed to the ground by John of Desmond, though the merchants’ houses had been ‘very strong and built castle-wise.’ The inhabitants—Bonvilles, Hallys, Scurlocks, Knolts, Sleynys, Angelis, Goldings, Horgetts, Rices, and Trants—hung about their ruined homes, cursing John of Desmond, the Knight of Kerry, and Dr. Sanders, as the root of all their calamities. The ‘Merlin’ was sent to ransack the numerous harbours between Dingle and Cork, and Pelham and Winter scoured the country; on one occasion amusing themselves by robbing an eagle’s nest. The Lord Justice came by chance upon a deserted bakehouse belonging to the Knight of Kerry, and converted a barrel of meal into bread, from the want of which he had suffered much. After exploring both shores of Dingle Bay, even sending light vessels to the Blaskets, lest cattle should be harboured in those sea-beaten islands, Winter and Pelham returned to Castlemaine, and came suddenly upon a vast herd of cows, not less than 4,000 or 5,000, which they drove into their entrenchments, and slaughtered for the use of the fleet. The starving people of the county besought Winter for God’s sake to give them something to eat, and he left them twelve or thirteen cows, a few goats, and 400 sheep, the distribution being entrusted to one MacMorris, a steward of Desmond’s, who had deserted, and from whom some service was expected. The works made for the protection of the prey were then razed, and the fleet sailed for Berehaven.[40]

Ormonde’s raid.

An Irish palace.

Ormonde accompanied Pelham to Dingle and left him taking in provisions from the fleet, while he went to look for James of Desmond in O’Sullivan More’s country. He had to pass round the bottom of Dingle Bay through Clancare’s territory, and that Earl met him and acted as guide. The expedition was not expected, and 1,000 cows were taken; but Ormonde’s followers were closely pursued by O’Sullivan’s sons. Many of the chief’s tenants sided with the strongest, and with their help the cattle were brought away. Beef and water formed the only sustenance of Ormonde’s men, but they did not lag in their work of destruction, and the fires which they raised in Valentia were seen across the bay at Ventry. Pelham returned to Castlemaine, where Ormonde, ‘sore broken in his feet with rocks,’ joined him after a foray of five or six days. He brought with him Clancare, O’Sullivan Bere, and O’Sullivan More, ‘Mac Fynyn of the kerne,’ MacDonogh, O’Keefe, O’Callaghan, MacAuliffe, O’Donoghue More, and all the other chiefs of Desmond except O’Donoghue of Glenflesk, who remained with the traitor earl. The combined forces of Pelham and Ormonde encamped between Pallice and Dunloe by the lower lake of Killarney, ‘the famous lake called Lough Leane.’ Sir N. White notes forty islands, an abbey—Innisfallen—in one, a parish church in another, in a third a castle, ‘out of which came to us a fair lady, the rejected wife of Lord Fitzmaurice, daughter to the late MacCarthy More, eldest brother to this earl.’ Edward Fenton was struck by the beauty of the scene, and interested by the report of large mussels containing pearls; but he was even more struck by Clancare’s castle, ‘called the Palace, a name very unfit for so beggarly a building, not answerable to a mean farmer’s house in England, and his entertainment much like to his dwelling.’ O’Sullivan More’s castle of Dunloe had been razed by Ormonde during his first expedition against James Fitzmaurice. Leaving Killarney, the army explored Glenflesk, which White, with Virgil and Cacus in his mind, calls a ‘famous spelunce.’ But they saw neither men, monsters, nor cattle, and crossed into the upper valley of the Blackwater without any fighting. Near Kanturk Ormonde recovered his heavy baggage which he had left behind on first entering the mountains, and the whole army then marched by Mallow to Cork. The citizens, who were half-starved themselves, were very slow to relieve their wants, but at last agreed to send Pelham 100l., to give 100l. worth of wine on credit, and 100l. worth of friezes, brogues, and stockings. Many soldiers had broken down for want of bread. They could do anything, White said, ‘if they had but bread, the lack whereof is their only overthrow, and nothing else.’[41]

Great gathering at Cork

Ormonde’s speech.

In White’s quaint language, all the lords and chiefs ‘cisalpine and transalpine the mountains of Slieve Logher,’ were present at Cork. Pelham found that nearly as many Barries as Geraldines were in rebellion; but nevertheless Lord Barrymore stood the stiffest on his defence. The rest had very little to say for themselves, and Ormonde bitterly upbraided them, ‘charging himself with their faults for making of Her Majesty to conceive so well of them.’ Desmond, he says, was their ancient scourge and enemy, and as they had favoured him he would cast them off and bid each shift for himself. He would utterly refuse their friendship and spend his blood against them all and against all Her Majesty’s enemies, ‘advising such as loved him to follow his ways, and such as would not bade them defiance, swearing a great oath and clapping his hand upon the Bible, that if Her Majesty did proclaim them traitors with the rest he would lay it on their skins, and in conclusion advised the Lord Justice to carry them all with him to Limerick till better order were taken with them.’ All were received to mercy except Lord Barrymore, who was committed for trial. ‘He is,’ said Ormonde, ‘an arrant Papist, who a long time kept in his house Dr. Tanner, made bishop here by the Pope, who died in my Lord of Upper Ossory’s house, being secretly kept there. Believe me, Mr. Secretary, you shall find my Lord of Upper Ossory as bad a man as may be.’ Pelham took Clancare, Barrymore, and several others with him, and, having been delayed at Mallow by a summer flood in the Blackwater, arrived at Limerick without further adventure. He professed himself fairly satisfied with the progress made. Frequent inroads, and still more the steady pressure of the garrisons, would soon starve out the rebels, unless help came from abroad. In that case, he said, ‘I look their strength will be infinitely multiplied.’[42]

Rebellion of Viscount Baltinglas.

As if to fill the time till the Spaniards came, a movement now began which defeated Pelham’s calculations. The new rebel was James Eustace, who had lately succeeded his father as Viscount Baltinglas, and who was an enthusiastic Catholic. He was already connected with the turbulent O’Byrnes, and his father had been in opposition on the cess question; but it is clear that religion was the chief motive. Before he succeeded to the title, Sanders and others persuaded him to go to Rome, and what he saw there under Gregory XIII. had exactly a contrary effect on him to what the Rome of Leo X. had upon Luther. On his return he heard mass, boldly gloried in the fact before the Ecclesiastical Commission, and was mulcted in the statutable fine of 100 marks, Sidney quaintly declaring that he could not countenance ‘Papistry and abolished religion.’ Loftus was told to exact the money or a bond, and to imprison in default. The young lord went to gaol for twenty-four hours, and was pardoned on signing the bond. But fine and imprisonment never convince, though they sometimes silence, and Baltinglas was in no way changed by what courtly officials called her Majesty’s godly proceedings. ‘I mean,’ he wrote to a Waterford merchant, ‘to take this holy enterprise in hand by the authority of the Supreme Head of the Church.’

Baltinglas and Ormonde.

The letter fell into Ormonde’s hands, and the bearer seems to have been hanged in chains. Ormonde had already warned the Viscount to be careful, and he now sent an answer which at once committed him irretrievably and almost without hope of pardon. He said he had been commanded to take the sword by the highest power on earth, and would maintain the truth to the extent of his means.

‘Questionless,’ he added, ‘it is great want of knowledge, and more of grace, to think and believe that a woman uncapax of all holy orders, should be the supreme governor of Christ’s Church; a thing that Christ did not grant unto his own mother. If the Queen’s pleasure be, as you allege, to minister justice, it were time to begin; for in this twenty years’ part of her reign we have seen more damnable doctrine maintained, more oppressing of poor subjects, under pretence of justice, within this land than ever we read or heard.... If Thomas Becket, the Bishop of Canterbury, had never suffered death in the defence of the Church, Thomas Butler, alias Becket, had never been Earl of Ormonde.’[43] Ormonde sent the letter by express to Walsingham, for the Queen’s eye, characterising it as ‘foolish, traitorous, popish, and devil-persuaded,’ praying that God might confound all her unnatural subjects and give her victory over all His enemies.

‘Sir, I pray you tell her Majesty that poor Lucas will remain constant in the true faith, whoever follow the Pope and do the contrary, and that neither Becket nor Canterbury shall alter him.’

A Catholic confederacy.

It was a year of great activity among the English Catholics. Parsons and Campion had just landed; the air teemed with rumours, and papers were freely circulated to prepare men for something extraordinary. A Devonshire gentleman named Eve brought one of these to Waterford, and it was not calculated to make the task of the Irish Government easier. Ten or twelve thousand men from the Pope, rather more from the King of Spain, and rather fewer from the Duke of Florence, were expected to invade England, and there to reassert the Pope’s lawful sovereignty. Elizabeth was declared ineligible, both as bastard and as heretic, to wear the vassal crown, and it was proposed to publish the Bull of excommunication in every Christian church and court. The English Catholic nobles were, however, to be allowed to crown one of their own number, who was to be independent of Spain, but her faithful ally in reducing the Hollanders. All Church lands were to be restored. The importer of this notable scheme was arrested by the Mayor of Waterford, and sent in irons to Clonmel, with his companion, a merchant of Bridgewater, to be dealt with by Pelham. We may, however, be sure that for one such production intercepted, many escaped the notice of the officials, and that Baltinglas had reason to expect support from outside. But he probably rested his hopes mainly upon the help of his neighbours, and even fancied he could get Kildare to join him.[44]

Attitude of Kildare.

On July 14th, nearly a fortnight before the insurrection actually broke out, the Archbishop of Dublin met Kildare on the legendary hill of Tara. Baltinglas was only two miles off, and in charge of the Earl’s own troop. Kildare had been told everything, and he informed Loftus that the Viscount and other Papists had conspired and were ready to rebel. ‘The first exploit they will do,’ he said, ‘is to kill you and me; you, for the envy they bear to your religion, and me, for that being taken away, they think there is no one to make head against them.’ Dr. Loftus indeed might have had a bad chance had he fallen into their hands, but there is no likelihood that they had any murderous intention towards Kildare. The threat was probably used as likely to have weight with one whose sympathies were already more than half-gained: The Archbishop pressed the Earl to arrest the traitor and more than once received an evasive answer; but at last Kildare confessed what was doubtless the true cause of his inaction. ‘I should heap to myself universally the hatred and illwill of my country, and pull upon my house and posterity for ever the blame.’ At last he agreed to make an appointment with Baltinglas, and to arrest him, provided the Archbishop had an agent present to charge him on his allegiance. In the meantime he went to the Viscount several times in a quiet way, and did nothing until he and Feagh MacHugh O’Byrne were in actual rebellion. After this Baltinglas wrote to tell the Earl that he had unfurled his Holiness’s banner, and asking for an interview at the bridge of Ballymore Eustace. Kildare not appearing, he wrote again to express his regret and to urge him to join the good cause. ‘I trust therefore the day shall never come that strangers shall say that when Christ’s banner was in the field on the one side, and the banner of heresy on the other side, that the Earl of Kildare’s forces were openly seen to stand under the heretical banner.’ The charming was not particularly wise, yet Kildare did not altogether refuse to hear it. In the end he so managed matters as to alienate both sides.[45]

Results of Pelham’s proceedings.

At the very moment that Baltinglas broke out, Lord Grey de Wilton’s patent as Deputy was signed in England. Pelham had but a few weeks of authority left, and he did not pass them in idleness. By the advice of Sir Warham St. Leger, and with the consent of Ormonde, he detained most of the Munster lords and chiefs at Limerick; and, having thus laid hands on the shepherds, he proceeded to make his own terms with the flock. ‘My manner of prosecuting,’ he wrote to the Queen, ‘it is thus: I give the rebels no breath to relieve themselves, but by one of your garrisons or other they be continually hunted. I keep them from their harvest, and have taken great preys of cattle from them, by which it seemeth the poor people that lived only upon labour, and fed by their milch cows, are so distressed as they follow their goods and offer themselves with their wives and children rather to be slain by the army than to suffer the famine that now in extremity beginneth to pinch them. And the calamity of these things have made a division between the Earl and John of Desmond, John and Sanders seeking for relief to fall into the company and fellowship of the Viscount Baltinglas; and the Earl, without rest anywhere, flieth from place to place, and maketh mediation for peace by the Countess, whom yesterday I licensed to have speech with me at Askeaton, whose abundance of tears betrayed sufficiently the miserable estate both of herself, her husband, and their followers.’ It was by just such means that Mountjoy afterwards put down a much greater rebellion and a much abler rebel than Desmond, and those Englishmen who knew Ireland best could see no alternative. ‘It shall be found,’ said Bagenal, ‘how severely and thoroughly good Sir William Pelham hath handled Munster; as in all his government here he deserved with the best that preceded him, so in that wrought he good perfection, and so weakened the traitors there, that John Desmond is fled to Leinster, where he is to salve his drained estate with Baltinglas. His own actions, if his commendation should be withdrawn, will sufficiently express his desert.’[46]

Terms offered to the repentant.

Death of Sir James of Desmond.

All important persons who sued for mercy were first required to imbrue their hands in some better blood than their own, and special services in proportion to their rank were required of leading rebels. Rory MacSheehy, a noted captain of the Desmond gallowglasses, was given to understand that he could have a pardon if he gave up Sanders alive. Sir John of Desmond sought to confer with St. Leger; he was told that he could have his own life by giving up his eldest brother, Dr. Sanders, and the seneschal of Imokilly. Sanders himself might perhaps be spared, if he would lay bare the whole network of foreign intrigue. The detained magnates were let loose one by one as they seemed likely to do service. Sir Cormac MacTeige MacCarthy was sheriff of Cork; he made humble submission, confessed his negligence, took a new oath, and departed with 150 English soldiers under Captain Apsley and Captain Dering. Soon afterwards Sir James of Desmond entered Muskerry and collected 2,000 of Sir Cormac’s cattle, which he proposed to drive off into the mountains west of Macroon. The sheriff came up with him, and a skirmish followed, in which Sir James was wounded and taken. He was carried from Carrigadrohid to Blarney and thence to Cork, where he was tried and condemned, having in vain begged for summary decapitation to avoid a public trial. After two months, during which he gave earnest attention to religious subjects, he was hanged, drawn, and quartered, or as the Four Masters say, cut into little pieces, dying a fervent Catholic and, as his enemies allowed, ‘a yielding to Godward a better end than otherwise he would have done if he had not died the death.’ ‘And thus,’ says Hooker, ‘the pestilent hydra hath lost another of his heads.’[47]

Munster chiefs in trouble.

Lord Fitzmaurice was at liberty, but his two sons were detained at Limerick, and he was told that he could only make his peace by intercepting Desmond or the Seneschal, or at the very least by procuring the release of Sir James Fitzgerald, of Decies, who was imprisoned in Kerry by the rebels. Sir Owen O’Sullivan Bere it was thought safe to keep at Limerick; but his neighbour Sir Owen MacCarthy Reagh was released, his tanist Donell na Pipy being retained as a hostage. Clancare had been protected by Ormonde, and the engagement was kept, but he was required to leave his son, Lord Valentia, in pledge. Lord Barrymore remained contumacious, and was sent to Dublin Castle, his sons being encouraged to come in under protection, but St. Leger was told to keep them safe until they offered good security. Sir Warham, who was always for harsh courses, advised that the father should be executed and his estate confiscated. The example, he thought, would be salutary, and the land would pay the whole cost of the war.[48]

Narrow escapes of Sanders and John of Desmond,

In the meantime the garrisons were busy. Sir George Bourchier was near taking a rich prize at Kilmallock. During a night foray, the soldiers fell in accidentally with Sanders and John of Desmond. Sir John was wounded, and both he and Sanders were over an hour in company with the soldiers, whose suspicions they disarmed by exhorting them, in English, to slay the Irish. An Englishman in Sanders’ service was taken and killed by the soldiers, because he would confess nothing. James O’Hea, a friar of Youghal, was made prisoner, and gave important information.

who contrive to join Baltinglas.

A division of opinion had arisen between Desmond on the one hand, and his brother Sanders on the other. The Earl was inclined to sue for peace, but the others were determined to fight it out to the last. Finding themselves straitened in Kerry, they made their way to Leinster, where Baltinglas eagerly expected them. With about five-and-twenty followers, they passed through the glen of Aherlow, and crossed North Tipperary into the Queen’s County, where they were helped by the remnant of the O’Mores, and by the veteran Piers Grace, until they joined the O’Byrnes near the border of Wicklow. They had an escape on the road, which Pelham called strange, and which a Catholic writer evidently thought miraculous. They met Ormonde—or more probably one of his brothers—who called out that they were in the net. ‘A sudden tempest,’ we are told, ‘arose on a fine day—whether at the Doctor’s prayers, or not, God knows—and the rain was so thick that the Earl, with the ministers of Satan, could not advance against the Catholics, nor even hold up their heads for a whole hour.’ The fugitives, who had the wind at their backs, threw away all superfluous weight, and escaped. Having lost their best leader, the Munster rebels sought terms for themselves. Baltinglas summoned Desmond himself to join him, for defence of the Catholic faith, but the Earl’s people said they were starving, and could endure no longer war; and they openly reviled Sanders as the cause of all their misery.[49]

Desmond almost surrenders,

but changes his mind

when a new governor comes.

Wearied by want of bread and all comforts, the rebel Earl began to feel that the game was up, and he besought Winter to give him a passage to England. Pelham did not object, provided the surrender was unconditional; but would allow no agents to pass, nor the Countess to go over without her husband. The poor lady’s tears showed him that her cause was desperate. Chief Secretary Fenton was principally struck by her impudence in venturing to defend her husband’s conduct. Pelham was inclined to believe that they both meant nothing but villainy, and were only seeking time to get in the harvest, and he directed Bourchier at Kilmallock, and Case at Askeaton, to give the fugitive Earl no rest for the sole of his foot. The hunted wretch might have surrendered to Winter had it not been for the change of government, which, both before and since, in Ireland, has often been wrongly supposed to denote a change of policy. He had perhaps been told that Grey’s orders from the Queen were to treat him leniently. At all events he changed his tone, though he had but 120 gallowglasses with him. These men clamoured loudly and vainly for their quarter’s pay, and the camp was followed by a horde of poor starving creatures, who begged such scraps as unpaid soldiers could give. In spite of all this, Desmond now declared that he would yield to Grey only, for that he remembered former hard treatment in England, and doubted that it would be worse than ever. And so the matter stood when Pelham, who had himself desired to be relieved, received the order to go to Dublin, and there surrender the sword to his successor. He had declared himself willing to serve under the new governor in Munster, with or without the title of Lord President, and the latter was directed to take advantage of his zeal, his experience, and his martial skill. As it was, he left Ireland on the nominal ground of health, perhaps because he could not get on with Grey, or because the Queen was frightened at the expense. He afterwards found work in the Netherlands, and Bourchier was left in charge of Munster with the rank of Colonel, Ormonde having enough to do in defending his own country against the Leinster insurgents.[50]

FOOTNOTES:

[22] Drury to Walsingham, Aug. 23, 1579; Walsingham’s letters of Aug. 5, 6, and 7; E. Tremayne to Burghley, Aug. 5; Proportions of victual, &c. Aug. 24; Wallop to Walsingham, Aug. 27, and Sept. 3, 4, and 14; Instructions to Sir John Perrott, Aug. 19.

[23] Lord Justice and Earl of Kildare to the Privy Council, Aug. 3, 1579; Waterhouse to Walsingham, Aug. 22; Gerard to Walsingham, Wilson, and Burghley, Sept. 10, 15, and 16; Drury to Walsingham, Sept. 14 and 17; Wallop to Burghley, Sept. 20. Drury died Sept. 30, and what Sanders said about him is in a letter of Feb. 21, 1580, printed in Strype’s Parker, appendix 77.

[24] Maltby to Walsingham, Oct. 12, 1579, with enclosures.

[25] Maltby to Walsingham, Oct. 12, 1579, and to Leicester, April 8, 1580; The Jesuit Allen is not mentioned by the Four Masters, by O’Sullivan, by O’Daly, or by several other Irish authorities, but frequently by Hooker, who says he was Irish-born. Russell mentions him, but calls him an English priest, and this seems probable.

[26] Ormonde to Walsingham, July 27 and August 10, 1579; Desmond to Ormonde and also to some powerful person at court Oct. 10; and the letters in Carew from Oct. 17 to Nov. 1.

[27] Waterhouse to Walsingham, Nov. 4, 1579. The proclamation is in Carew, under Nov. 2.

[28] Ormonde to Walsingham, Nov. 7, 1579; Walsingham to Waterhouse, Nov. 8; Pelham to Wilson, Nov. 28; to the Queen, Dec. 15 and 28; and many other letters in Carew.

[29] O’Sullivan Bere, ii. iv. 15; Pelham to Burghley, Nov. 28, 1579; Arthur and White to Maltby, Nov. 27; St. Leger to Ormonde, Dec. 1; Ormonde to Burghley, Dec. 27; Pelham to Burghley, Jan. 27, 1580. Abstract of examinations Jan. 4, 1580. Hooker says Desmond’s horde took five days to collect the spoils, and that Ormonde sent an armed vessel which recovered some guns, but that her master was killed. See also the examination of Friar James O’Hea in Carew, Aug. 17, 1580, and the petition of Anyas, Burgomaster of Youghal, Sept. 9, 1583. Edmund Tanner, S.J., to the General of the Jesuits, Oct. 11, 1577, in Hibernia Ignatiana.

[30] Pelham to the Irish Council, Jan. 26, 1580, in Carew. Ormonde to Burghley, Dec. 27, 1579; Wallop to Burghley, Dec. 29; Letters of Dec. 3, in Carew; Hooker.

[31] Ormonde to Walsingham, Jan. 4, 1580; Burghley to Ormonde, Jan. 26; Pelham to Wallop, Feb. 9; to the Privy Council, Feb. 28; to Walsingham, May 20; Lord Justice and Council to the Privy Council, Jan. 29: the four last in Carew.

[32] Burghley to Pelham, Dec. 30, 1579; and to Ormonde, Jan. 26, 1580.

[33] Pelham to Burghley, Feb. 4, 1580; Waterhouse to Walsingham, Feb. 3; G. Fenton to Burghley, Feb. 18; Lord Justice and Council to the Privy Council, Jan. 29, in Carew.

[34] Pelham to Wallop, Feb. 9, 1580; to the Privy Council, Feb. 10 and 28; to the Queen and to Leicester, Feb. 16; Lord Roche to Ormonde, Feb. 11: all these in Carew.

[35] Pelham to the Queen and to Burghley, April 1, 1580; and to the Queen, April 5; Zouch to Walsingham, April 8. Hooker.

[36] Discourse of Sir N. Maltby’s proceedings, April 8, 1580, and his letter to Walsingham of that date.

[37] Pelham to the Privy Council, April 11 and 16, 1580, in Carew.

[38] Pelham to the Privy Council, May 20; James Golde to Leicester, May 20; White, M.R., to Leicester, May 31, all in Carew. White to Burghley, May 31; Pelham to the Queen. May 18.

[39] Sir N. White, M.R., to Burghley, Walsingham, and Leicester, May 31, 1580, the last in Carew; Journal of Occurrences, July 2; Pelham to Wallop, June 21; Edw. Fenton to Walsingham, July 11; Ormonde to Walsingham, July 21; White, M.R., to Walsingham, July 22; Pelham to the Privy Council, July 9, in Carew.

[40] Chiefly from Journal of Occurrences, July 2.

[41] Edw. Fenton to Walsingham, July 11; Ormonde to same, July 21; White M.R. to same, July 22; Pelham to the Privy Council, July 4 and 8 in Carew.

[42] White M.R. to the Privy Council, July 22, 1580, where Ormonde’s speech is given; Ormonde to Walsingham, July 21; Pelham and his Council to the Privy Council, July 9 and 12, in Carew.

[43] Baltinglas to Ormonde, received before July 24, 1580, to R. Walshe, July 18; Ormonde to Walsingham, July 24. I believe the connection of the Butlers with the Beckets has never been proved.

[44] Eve’s seditious libel, July 3; Pelham to the Mayor of Waterford, July 26, in Carew.

[45] Baltinglas to Kildare, July 22, 1580; Deputy Grey to the Queen, Dec. 23; Earls of Kildare, ii. 198 sqq.

[46] Pelham to the Queen, Aug. 12, 1580, in Carew; Sir N. Bagenal to Leicester, Oct. 3, in Wright’s Elizabeth.

[47] Pelham to Lord Fitzmaurice, July 27, 1580; to St. Leger, Aug. 15; the Estate wherein Pelham left Munster, Aug. 28: these three in Carew. St. Leger and P. Grant to Ormonde, Aug. 6; St. Leger to Burghley, Oct 9.

[48] Pelham to Burghley, July 15, 1580; to St. Leger, Aug. 26; the latter in Carew. State in which Pelham left Ireland, Aug. 28, in Carew. St. Leger to Burghley, July 15.

[49] Paper by J. Holing, S.J., in Spicilegium Ossoriense, i. 94. Pelham to Bourchier, Aug. 5, 1580; to the Queen, Aug. 12; to Winter, Aug. 16; State in which Pelham left Ireland, Aug. 28; all in Carew. G. Fenton to Burghley and Leicester, Aug. 8; Wallop to Walsingham, Aug. 9.

[50] Pelham to Winter, Aug. 24, 1580; Winter to Pelham, Aug. 24; Directions to Sir G. Bourchier, Aug. 28: all in Carew. Gerard, White, M.R., and Wallop to Burghley, Oct. 7; Wallop to Walsingham, Sept. 28; Grey to the Queen, Oct. 5. Grey landed Aug. 12, and was sworn in Sept. 7.

[CHAPTER XXXVIII.]

THE DESMOND WAR—SECOND STAGE, 1580-1581.

Lord Grey’s instructions.

Whatever private hints the Queen might give to Grey, his official instructions contained nothing to Desmond’s advantage. On the contrary, he was warned to avoid the common fault of former governors, who had been too easy in granting pardons to notorious transgressors of the law, and had thereby bred boldness in subjects prone to offend. In future, pardons were not to be given without good reasons, nor at all in general terms, but only for some specified offence. On the other hand the Queen was anxious to have it known that she did not wish to extirpate the inhabitants of Ireland, as it had been falsely and maliciously reported. Outrages committed by soldiers were to be severely punished, and officers of high rank were not to be exempt. The rebellion was to be put down as quickly as possible, so that her Majesty’s charge might be reduced. Grey landed on August 12, but the sword of state was still in Munster, and he could not take the oath without it. Baltinglas and Feagh MacHugh O’Byrne were in force not much more than twenty miles from Dublin, and he resolved to attack them before Pelham’s arrival.[51]

State of the Pale.

Whatever hopes Desmond himself may have had from Grey, the change of government was not favourable to the chances of a rebellion near Dublin. The advent of a governor of high rank generally signified increased force, a more liberal expenditure of money, and more activity in official circles. Lord Chancellor Gerard had just landed on a part of the coast over which Baltinglas was for the moment supreme; and the latter had unaccountably neglected to make him a hostage. ‘Compared with the rest of his doings,’ said Pelham, ‘this doth argue that both he and his followers be the most foolish traitors that ever I heard of.’ The Chancellor reported that all the Leinster chiefs as well as O’Neill, O’Donnell, O’Rourke, and O’Connor Sligo were sworn to Baltinglas, and that he had the hearts of the whole country. The rebels had burned Harrington’s town of Newcastle, and openly displayed the Pope’s banner; but Kildare seemed to stand firm, and comforted the Chancellor by abusing the captains for giving false musters, saying that the Queen paid for 1,300 when she had only 700. But his most trusted follower, Gerald Fitzmaurice, had joined the rebels with his company. Sir William Stanley brought reinforcements from England, but in such plight as to argue no great probability of good service. Out of 120 calivers scarce twenty were serviceable, and the men were raw, ill-provided with necessaries, and fewer than their leader had been given to expect. The captains, blamed by Kildare, said their pay was at least three months in arrear, and of course all their men were discontented. Gormanston lay at Naas with 500 men, but the distrust was so general that Archbishop Loftus believed the throats of all Englishmen were about to be cut. ‘Unless strangers land,’ the Chancellor remarked, ‘I mistrust; and if they do I am of the Archbishop’s mind.’ Meanwhile the country south of Dublin was at the mercy of the rebels, and it was easy to know who sympathised with them. ‘They religiously prey,’ said Gerard, ‘overskipping some, many have taken oaths not to fight against them.’ 2,000 Scots were plundering loyal people in Ulster, and it was hard to see where it was to stop.[52]

Grey attacks the Irish in Glenmalure.

Baltinglas and Feagh MacHugh lay in the valley of the Liffey, somewhere about Ballymore Eustace. On the approach of Grey’s army from the side of Naas they withdrew into Glenmalure, a deep and rocky fortress—a combe, as the Devonian Hooker calls it—to the N.E. of Lugnaquilla. The glen was thickly wooded, and at least four miles long, and Colonel George Moore was ordered to enter it with about half the army. Grey was more a knight-errant than a general, and he determined to attack at once and in front, though warned by those about him of the risk he was running. His object was to drive the rebels from the covert, so that they might be shot or ridden down on the open hillside. Old Francis Cosby, general of the Queen’s kerne, who was a man of extraordinary personal courage and of unrivalled experience in Irish warfare, foresaw the danger; but he was not listened to, and he boldly advanced to what he believed to be almost certain death. Jacques Wingfield, the Master of the Ordinance, who doubtless remembered his own overthrow nineteen years before, was present with his two nephews, Peter and George Carew, and he vainly tried to dissuade them from risking their lives. ‘If I lose one,’ he then urged, ‘yet will I keep the other,’ and George, reserved, as Camden says, for greater things, consented to stay by his uncle. Sir Peter, with Captain Audley and Lieutenant Parker, were with Colonel Moore in front, while Sir Henry Bagenal and Sir William Stanley brought up the rear. ‘When we entered,’ says Stanley, ‘the foresaid glen, we were forced to slide sometimes three or four fathoms ere we could stay our feet. It was in depth at least a mile, full of stones, rocks, bogs, and wood; in the bottom a river full of loose stones, which we were driven to cross divers times. So long as our leaders kept the bottom, the odds were on our side. But our colonel, being a corpulent man, before we were half through the glen, being four miles in length, led us up the hill that was a long mile in height; it was so steep that we were forced to use our hands as well to climb as our feet, and the vanward being gone up the hill, we must of necessity follow.... It was the hottest piece of service for the time that ever I saw in any place. I was in the rearward, and with me twenty-eight soldiers of mine, whereof were slain eight, and hurt ten. I had with me my drum, whom I caused to sound many alarms, which was well answered by them that was in the rearward, which stayed them from pulling us down by the heels. But I lost divers of my dear friends. They were laid all along the wood as we should pass, behind trees, rocks, crags, bogs, and in covert. Yet so long as we kept the bottom we lost never a man, till we were drawn up the hill by our leaders, where we could observe no order; we could have no sight of them, but were fain only to beat the places where we saw the smoke of our pieces; but the hazard of myself and the loss of my company was the safeguard of many others... were a man never so slightly hurt, he was lost, because no man was able to help him up the hill. Some died, being so out of breath that they were able to go no further, being not hurt at all.’[53]

Defeat of the English.

Carew and Audley had a dispute at the outset, and the loud talk of two usually quiet and modest officers had a very bad effect on their men. The renegade captain, Gerald Fitzmaurice, had full information from Kildare’s people, if not from the Earl himself, and he knew the companies had never been together before. They contained many raw recruits, and he rightly calculated that they would be thrown into confusion by an unseen enemy. The soldiers fresh from England wore red or blue coats, and Maltby, who was with Grey in the open, saw how easily they were picked off. ‘The strangeness of the fight,’ he adds, ‘is such to the new-come ignorant men that at the first brunt they stand all amazed, or rather give back to the enemy.... Their coats stand them in no stead, neither in fashion nor in giving them any succour to their bodies. Let the coat-money be given to some person of credit, with which, and with that which is also bestowed on their hose, they may clothe themselves here with jerkins and hose of frieze, and with the same money bring them every man a mantle which shall serve him for his bedding and thereby shall not be otherwise known to the rebels than the old soldiers be.’ The recruits wavered, the kerne ran away to the enemy, and so ‘the gentlemen were lost.’

Stanley says not above thirty Englishmen were killed, but Moore, Cosby, Audley, and other officers were among them. Grey thought the rebels were fewer than the soldiers, who were stricken by panic. Sir Peter Carew was clad in complete armour, which proved more fatal than even a red coat. Suffocated from running up hill he was forced to lie down and was easily taken. It was proposed to hold him to ransom, ‘but one villain,’ says Hooker, ‘most butcherly, as soon as he was disarmed, with his sword slaughtered and killed him, who in time after was also killed.’

Three months afterwards George Carew rejoiced that he had the good fortune to slay him who slew his brother, and announced that he meant to lay his bones by his or to be ‘thoroughly satisfied with revenge.’ No doubt the survivor under such circumstances would be filled with remorseful bitterness; but his thirst for revenge, fully slaked by a murder three years later, can be scarcely justified even according to that ancient code which prescribes an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.[54]

Consequences of the affair.

When a civilised government receives a check from its revolted subjects, the moral effect is generally out of all proportion to the actual loss. But Pelham had effectually bridled Munster, and Maltby had for the moment nearly neutralised Connaught and Ulster also. O’Rourke and O’Donnell now both took arms in the Catholic cause, and there was every prospect of a general conflagration. Maltby rode post from Dublin northwards, and such was the dread which he had inspired, that O’Donnell at once disbanded his men, and wrote to say that nothing should make him swerve from his allegiance. The President hastened to Leitrim, where he found that O’Rourke had dismantled the castle. He immediately began to repair it, though he had to draw lime eight miles. The tanist Brian O’Rourke, who regarded the chief as his greatest enemy, helped the work, and gladly acted as sheriff under the President.

O’Rourke appeared at the edge of a wood with 1,200 men, of whom 500 were Scots; but Ulick Burke, who begged for the place of honour, charged at the head of 200 soldiers and 500 kerne. Some Scots were killed, and the building was not further interrupted. Leaving a strong garrison in the castle, Maltby then hurried back to Dublin, and arrived there in time to be a witness and a critic of the Glenmalure affair. He warned the English Government that Ulster was in a dangerous state, and that Tirlogh Luineach’s wife was determined to make a new Scotland of that province. ‘She has already planted a good foundation, for she in Tyrone, her daughter in Tyrconnell (being O’Donnell’s wife), and Sorleyboy in Clandeboy, do carry all the sway in the North, and do seek to creep into Connaught, but I will stay them from that.’[55]

Results of the defeat—in Ulster,

The news of Grey’s defeat did not reach the officials at Cork for eleven days, and then only in a fragmentary way, but its effect upon the natives was instantaneous. Tirlogh Luineach, whom Captain Piers had just brought to terms, suddenly swept round the lower end of Lough Neagh, drove off the cattle of the loyalist Sir Hugh Magennis, and killed many of his men, demanded the title of O’Neill, and the old hegemony claimed by Shane, declared that he would stand in defence of religion while life lasted, and proposed to invade the Pale with 5,000 men. The Scots’ galleys lay in Lough Foyle, and effectual resistance seemed impossible. The Baron of Dungannon sent his cattle to the mountains, and hid himself in the woods, protesting his loyalty even ‘if all the Irishry in Ireland should rebel,’ and if he had nothing left but his bare body. But Magennis, after crouching for a while at Narrow Water, was forced to go as a suppliant to Tirlogh’s camp.

In the Pale,

and in Connaught.

The southern side of the Pale was in no better case. A strong force under John of Desmond besieged Maryborough, and the constable was so closely watched that he dared not write. A private settler living in the unfinished castle of Disert, and expecting to be attacked every moment, sent the news to Dublin, but was forced to entrust his letter to a poor beggar-man. Ladders were ready in the woods to attack all posts. Some of Ormonde’s villages were burned, and his brother Piers, though he maintained his own ground, could not save Abbeyleix from the flames. The remnant of the O’Connors rose once more, and Ross MacGeohegan, the most loyal and useful subject in the midlands, was murdered by his half-brother Brian, whose mother was an O’Connor. ‘All is naught here,’ wrote Maltby from Dublin, ‘and like to be worse.’ He had to reach Athlone by a circuitous route, and found his province already in an uproar.[56]

The Spaniards appear at last.

It was in foreign aid that all Irish rebels mainly trusted; and it was supposed that the fleet would prevent any descent upon Munster, the only district where strangers from the South would have much chance of maintaining themselves. Winter had been directed to cruise about the mouth of the Shannon, having first sent some light craft to the Biscay coast for news. He was not to land himself, but if necessary to employ a naval brigade under Captain Richard Bingham. The admiral was not in good health; he hated the service, he hated Captain Bingham, and he was ready to run home as soon as there seemed the least chance of victuals running short. The fleet reached Ireland about the beginning of April, and early in July Winter threatened to sail away. But the Queen’s positive orders restrained him for a time, and Pelham was at hand to inculcate obedience, reminding him that there was generally a Michaelmas summer in Ireland. Pelham left Munster on the last day of August, on December 5th Winter sailed for England, and on the 12th the long-expected Spaniards arrived at Smerwick. The admiral was required to explain his very unseasonable departure, and it must be admitted that he had reasons, though a Drake or a Nelson might not have allowed them much weight. The ships were foul, and sailed too badly either for flight or chase, the sails and ropes were rotten from the unceasing wet of a Kerry summer, victuals were running short, there was a most plentiful lack of news, and the Shannon was a bad anchorage at the best. Whatever the Queen may have thought of the admiral’s conduct, it did not prevent her from sending him to Ireland again.[57]

An English sea-dog in Spain.

An attack on England could not be secretly prepared in Spain, for the carrying trade was in England’s hands. Armed rovers like Drake, Hawkins, and Frobisher, half merchants and half buccaneers, came and went as they pleased upon the peninsular coast, in the confident hope that no Spaniard could catch them. Such a one was Captain James Sidee, an excellent seaman but not altogether free from suspicion of piracy, whom it had been necessary to pardon some years before. He sailed boldly into the splendid harbour of Ferroll, and wrote to the governor demanding the surrender of certain English subjects whom he supposed to be living there. He had perceived, he said grimly, that the country folk were in terror at his approach, but he was no pirate and would take no one by force, for Ferroll was the ‘king’s chamber which he was commanded not to break.’ But he wanted his own fellow-subjects, who had plundered a Plymouth ship at sea, and hinted plainly that he could take them if he liked. He said they were only cowkeepers who had left their cows, and John Fleming, James Fitzmaurice’s admiral, had run away from his creditors. The Irish bishop who was with them might find some better employment than keeping kine in Ireland. The Spanish governor’s answer does not appear; but one Barnaby O’Neill wrote to say that the bishop was noble, chaste, virtuous, and learned, while the heretic bishops of England were shoe-makers, scavengers, and pudding-makers, that Fleming was Lord Slane’s cousin, and that Sidee had served under that rebel, traitor, and coward, the Prince of Orange. Sidee retorted that the Silent Prince was far above his praise, and that he did not believe his correspondent was an O’Neill at all, for he had never heard his name. He might of course be some bastard, but he rather inclined to think that he was really one William Hall, a murderous thief well known in Ireland and Spain. Sir William Winter was of opinion that Sidee’s proceedings would not facilitate English diplomacy in Spain, and indeed it was an uncomfortable time for Englishmen there. But Philip was most anxious to avoid war—much too anxious indeed for the taste of his ambassadors in England—and Elizabeth’s subjects suffered more petty annoyance than actual hardship.[58]

Irish refugees in Spain.