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It was at this moment of depression
that the Queen, after long hesitation, decided to send over to Ireland
the most brilliant and unstable of her courtiers, Robert Devereux, second
Earl of Essex, son to the planter of Eastern Ulster. Though Essex was
the darling of the English people and had long been the most distinguished
man at Court and the Queen's favourite, he had not proved himself an officer
worthy of confidence. His expeditions to Calais and Cadiz had ended in
failure, and he had retired from Court in partial disgrace. When the proposal
that he should go to Ireland was made he does not seem to have welcomed
it with any warmth. He knew the army was disorganized, and he had probably
no wish to risk another failure; it is quite likely that the talk of the
courtiers was true and that Essex "went not forth to serve the Queen,
but to humour his own revenge." Essex had enemies as well as friends;
the Court was full of intrigues for place and favour, and he along with
the rest intrigued for his own hand. He did his best to prevent the appointment
of his rivals in the Queen's favour, and when he received definite news
of his preferment he dashed off a letter to John Harington, who was to
accompany him: "I have beaten Knollys and Mountjoy in the Council,
and by G-d, I will beat Tyrone in the field; for nothing worthy of her
Majesty's honour hath yet been achieved." [1] A scoffing courtier
said that the Earl and Mr Secretary (Cecil) have so good leisure "that
they ply the tables in the Presence Chamber, and play as much game as
if Ireland were to be recovered at Irish bowls."
[1] Harington, Nugae Antiquae, ii, 30 ; Chamberlayn, Letters, December
20, 1598.
The preparations for Essex's departure were made on a scale of great magnificence.
He was given powers never before entrusted to a Viceroy, with an establishment
of 16,000 foot and 1300 horse. Troops were sent over before him, landed
direct from the Low Countries. It was altogether the greatest army ever
sent into Ireland; and he brought with him the flower of the English gentry
in various positions of command. His instructions were explicit. He was
to march direct to the North and bend all his strength against Tyrone,
who was only to be admitted to mercy on making a simple submission without
conditions. The planting of garrisons at Lough Foyle and Ballyshannon
was to be his immediate object. He departed from London amid the plaudits
of the populace, but men thought it ominous that before he got past Islington
the sky became suddenly overcast, and a thunder storm broke. After a tempestuous
voyage he landed in Dublin on April 15, 1599. On his arrival he was besieged
with tidings of risings all over the country. Phelim MacFeagh with his
sept of the O'Byrnes was up in Wicklow; in Kildare, James FitzPierce;
in Carlow, the Kavanaghs. The O'Mores had resumed power in Meath and Kilkenny;
Sir William Nugent and Viscount Baltinglas were assisting the insurgents.
In the North only the garrison towns on the borders and Carrickfergus
held for the English; the Irish and Scots alike were in arms, nearly 9000
men; Munster was in the throes of a fresh rebellion, and Connacht, after
Bingham's period of chastisement, was seething with discontent. Altogether
it was estimated that the total number of the 'rebel' forces in the country
amounted to 20,600 men, of whom about 2400 were cavalry. Essex reports
"that he durst boldly say that the plaister would do no more than
cover the wound."
Induced by advisers on the spot he proceeded to disobey all his instructions.
Undoubtedly the orders that he had received on accepting the post were
dictated by a right view of the situation. O'Neill was the centre of the
whole organization; to him Munster and Leinster looked for direction and
leadership. The only sure strategy was to proceed against Ulster without
delay while the army was fresh; for a defeat of the Northern forces would
have disorganized the whole confederacy. Instead of this, the new Viceroy
made a disastrous and ineffective raid into Munster and Leinster. His
main object was the reduction of the castles, especially the strong castle
of Cahir in Tipperary, held for Desmond by Thomas Butler. He also wished
to effect a junction with Sir Thomas Norris, brother of the late general,
Sir John Norris, who was President of Munster and was vainly endeavouring
to stem the rising tide of rebellion which had been stirred up by the
efforts of Owny O'More, who had been preaching with great success a war
upon the English, and especially upon the newly established settlers in
the south of Ireland. Sharp fighting was going on all over the country,
and Norris himself had been severely wounded in the head. Essex set out
from Dublin at the head of 7000 foot and goo horse. He was obliged to
pass through Owny O'More's country, and he found that able and rebellious
chief posted with 500 men on the sides of a narrow pass near Maryborough
to prevent his passage. Allowing part of the army of Essex to pass in
safety, Owny's men fell like an avalanche upon his rear, and cut them
to pieces. The scattered plumes from the helmets of Essex's gallant followers
so strewed the ground after they had pushed their way through that the
place became known as "the Pass of the Plumes." Owny retired
with the spoils to his fastness, and Essex, fuming with rage, wrote to
the Council that on his return he intended to take revenge on the rogues
who had the killing "of our base, cowardly, and ill-guided clowns."
But as he progressed into Munster Essex began to find that fighting a
country in arms was not a royal progress; though he does not doubt that
the kingdom will be reduced, he has to admit that it will ask, besides
cost, a great deal of care, industry, and time.[2]
[2] Lives of the Devereux, Earls of Essex, ii, 34-41.
The methods of Irish warfare embarrassed the new recruits; the Irish hung
round the troops and never gave them an hour's rest. Essex's trust lay
in sudden charges of his cavalry, which the Irish were unable to resist,
but it tried him to send his picked men and young gallants into this kind
of warfare. The only result of this expedition was the capture of Cahir
Castle after a siege of ten days, and the strengthening of the garrison
at Askeaton. By the end of July Essex had returned to Dublin, "his
soldiers being weary, sick and incredibly diminished in number."
In a letter to Southampton he complains that "without an enemy the
disease of the country consumes our armies," and he is obliged, before
entering on the main object of his coming to Ireland, the war against
Tyrone, to appeal for a fresh body of troops to be sent over.
The Queen's wrath at Essex's ill-success, which was sedulously used by
the Earl's enemies in London to prejudice his position at Court, was not
likely to have been mollified by the news of two other disasters in Ireland
which reached her almost at the same time. One was Sir Henry Harington's
defeat by the clans of Wicklow on May 29. He had with him 500 foot and
60 horse, but was routed and cut to pieces through the cowardice of his
troops, general panic having overtaken the whole body. Essex, on his return,
decided to make an example of the survivors so that others might know
"that the justice of a Marshal's court is no less terrible than the
fury of all the rebels." The whole regiment was condemned to die,
and one in ten was actually executed. The second disaster was the destruction
of Sir Conyers Clifford's fine army on the Curlew Mountains in Connacht.
O'Conor Sligo, who stood by the Government, and seems also to have been
a personal friend to Essex, had for a considerable time been besieged
by O'Donnell in the strong castle of Colooney, an apparently impregnable
stronghold surrounded by a river and a wood, near Ballysadare in Sligo.
It was the only fort in that country now holding for the English interest.
Essex, hearing that O'Conor Sligo was closely hemmed in, and unable to
get supplies, sent for Sir Conyers Clifford, who had replaced Bingham
as Governor of Connacht, and consulted with him what could be done to
relieve the fort. It was decided to send round Theobald Burke "of
the ships" by sea from Galway to Sligo provided with supplies of
food, and implements to erect a strong border fortress on the Ulster side,
while Clifford himself was instructed to proceed from Athlone across the
Curlew Mountains with all the troops he could collect, supported by some
fresh men sent back with him by Essex.
There was no difficulty in raising a large force. Part of the family
of the Clanricardes, Theobald Dillon, the O'Conor Don, some of the O'Flahertys,
and MacSweeney "of the Territories," with their bands, Irish
and English, flocked to the Governor's standard. They mustered twenty-eight
standards, and marched away from Roscommon to Boyle, where they encamped
in good order, certain that they were more than a match for any forces
that O'Donnell could bring against them. The troop of horse named after
the Earl of Southampton,[3] Shakespeare's friend and patron, accompanied
them. O'Donnell, on hearing of the advance, left part of his troops under
MacSweeney Fanad to invest Sligo, and ordered O'Boyle to continue the
siege of Colooney Castle with two hundred men. He himself with O'Rorke
and O'Doherty went forward and posted the troops at the head of the two
passes across the mountains, one of which Clifford was bound to take.
He barricaded the path with wood, and, as it was the vigil of the Feast
of the Assumption, his soldiers confessed, and heard Mass early in the
morning. They were about to sit down to breakfast when word was brought
in that the standards of Clifford's army were visible toward the south,
and that they were manoeuvring to find a way across the pass. This was
unexpected, for the night had been so wet and foul that it was not thought
that Clifford would venture to cross the boggy mountain; nevertheless,
he had succeeded in reaching the open top of the pass and, dragging up
his guns, had brought them into action, when, on a sudden, about eleven
o'clock, the sun came out in splendour. A sharp encounter followed. The
Irish were on the point of breaking when the whole situation was changed
by the appearance of O'Rorke, who, with his men, had been lying in his
camp among the woods and bogs on the east of the mountain waiting for
O'Donnell's signal to take part in the battle. Clifford's men, wearied
by their long march and toil in dragging up the guns, turned and broke.
Clifford fell, mortally wounded, and his captain, Henry Ratcliffe, perished
with him. The Irish pursued the flying soldiers as far as Boyle, slaying
all they met; and only the men of the countryside, who knew the paths,
made their way back to their homes.[4] Sir Conyers was as much bewailed
by the Irish of Connacht as by his own compatriots; after their treatment
by Bingham it was a new experience to be under a governor "who never
told them a lie and was a bestower of treasures and wealth among them."
O'Conor Sligo was incredulous when tidings reached him of his death, and
there was nothing left for him but to make a full submission to O'Donnell.
The latter restored him to all his lands, and thus prudently made him
his friend for life.
[3] Southampton had come over to Ireland in 1599 with Essex, who had
given him a command, but in July the Queen ordered his immediate recall,
apparently for no other reason than to annoy Essex. Sir Griffith Markham
Southampton's horse at the Curlews. He returned to Ireland in July 1600.
[4] Fynes Moryson, History of Ireland, i, 87-88 ; O'Sullevan Beare, Hist.
Cath. Iber. Comp., vol. iii, Bk. V, ch. x ; O'Clery, Life of Red Hugh
O'Donnell, ed. D. Murphy (1893), pp. 201-223 ; Harington, Nugae Antiquae,
ii, 8-12.
It was a depressed Council that met round the table of Dublin Castle when
the news of the defeat of the Curlews was reported. The army was reduced
by the loss of a large part of its old companies and several of its most
experienced captains, while the remaining regiments were secretly running
away into England, revolting to the rebels, or feigning themselves sick.
They would do anything rather than face the dreaded Tyrone in his own
fastnesses. Essex himself speaks of the difficulty of a war "where
the rebel hath been ever victorious," and his most competent generals
advised that it was a course full of danger to begin a campaign in the
North near the close of the summer season. Moreover, Essex was well aware
that during his absence his position in the Queen's favour was being steadily
undermined; and his fears were not allayed by a letter received from the
Queen on the eve of his departure for the North. Elizabeth was a past
master in the art of wounding with the pen, and she did not spare her
Lieutenant. "How often," she wrote, "had Essex not told
her that those who preceded him in Ireland had no judgment to end the
war?" Yet he had failed as no other had failed, either to keep his
promises or to obey her distinct commands. "You had your asking,
you had choice of times, you had power and authority more ample than ever
any had, or ever shall have; it may well be judged with how little contentment
we seek this and other errors, but how should that be hid which is so
palpable?"
In face of this letter, there was plainly only one course to take; and
on August 28 the Lord-Lieutenant left Dublin for the North, his army being
replenished by the two thousand fresh troops just arrived from England.
He heard that Tyrone was already on the move "and hath sent for all
that he can make in the world, bragging that he will do wonders."
About September 4 they came within sight of Tyrone's army on the distant
hills; and on the next day Tyrone's trusted counsellor, O'Hagan, came
into the camp to demand a parley. Essex refused, saying that if Tyrone
would speak with him he would find him at the head of his troops. The
next day Essex marshalled his army on the top of a hill opposite Tyrone's
forces, and some slight skirmishing occurred, but Tyrone again sent a
message saying that he would not fight, but desired an interview with
the Viceroy. Next morning the army dislodged and marched towards Drumconragh,
but before they had gone a mile O'Hagan again met them, and in the presence
of the Earl of Southampton, Sir Wareham St Leger, and others declared
that Tyrone sought her Majesty's mercy, and he proposed a meeting at the
ford of Ballaclinth, on the river Lurgan, which lay right in the way that
his lordship was taking. Essex sent on two gentlemen to see the ford,[5]
but they found the water so far out that they told Tyrone, who was there
before them, that it was no fit place for the interview. He exclaimed,
"Then I shall despair ever to speak with him"; but, knowing
the fords, he found a spot higher up, where, plunging into the water,
he stood with the stream up to his horse's belly, that he might be heard
by the Lord-Lieutenant, who stopped his horse on the farther bank, where
he stood alone, his troop having withdrawn to the hill behind the ford.
For half an hour they talked, Tyrone "saluting his lordship with
a great deal of reverence" and holding his hat in his hand. Later
a second and more formal meeting was held, also at the ford, between six
of Tyrone's chief supporters and six from the English side, and an informal
truce of six weeks was arranged, to be continued for successive periods
of six weeks till May Day, and only to be broken by fourteen days' warning
on either side. Among those present at this parley was Sir Henry Wotton,
the poet, who was afterward ambassador to the republic of Venice and Provost
of Eton. He was acting as Essex's secretary, and must have been an interested
spectator of the picturesque scene. Essex having given his word and Tyrone
his oath, the Irish chief retired into his own country, while Essex "went
to take physic at Drogheda," before he had to meet his sovereign's
wrath at what she looked upon as a humiliating end to the greatest expedition
ever sent into Ireland. When Essex a few months later stood his trial
for his life his accusers made it one strong point for his condemnation
that he had conversed for some space of time alone with the arch-enemy,
the "traitor Tyrone."
[5] This meeting at the ford is an interesting survival of the old combats
or debates at fords which formed the borders of territories.
When Essex fell the Queen said that she would have none other than Mountjoy
to finish the Irish wars, for she believed that he alone "would cut
the thread of that fatal rebellion and bring her in peace to her grave."
Years previously, when Charles Blount was still a young student in the
Inner Temple, the tall figure and sweet face of the lad had caught the
Queen's eye as he stood, according to the manners of the time, watching
the Court at dinner. "Fail not to come to Court, and I will bethink
myself how to do you good," was the encouraging message she sent
to him. But Blount was too shy to be a successful courtier. He would slip
away to the wars in Flanders or the fighting in Brittany with Sir John
Norris to escape from the weary intrigues of the Court or the jealousy
of Essex, who was set on the ruin of both men. Refined by nature, loving
a good pipe and a good table, beautiful houses and gardens, study and
country life, Blount looked upon wars as things to be "hotly embraced"
in the hope of more quickly returning to a quieter life. Essex thought
him "too bookish" to succeed in Ireland, and, indeed, he carried
the little peculiarities of a bookish man into his Irish campaigns, going
out on his long marches with two, "yea, sometimes three pairs of
silk stockings, three waistcoats, and a ruff, besides a russet scarf about
his neck, thrice folded under it," into which was tucked away "the
single lock of hair under his left ear" which bespoke the dandy.
In his severest campaigns he would insist on a long sleep in the afternoon,
and Tyrone used to say of him that "all occasions of doing service
would be passed ere he could be ready to have his breakfast." Nevertheless,
Mountjoy showed himself a man of great ability and the most formidable
opponent that the Ulster prince had yet encountered. Unlike former generals,
who fought only during the summer months, he was out all the winter long,
allowing the enemy neither time to sow his seed nor to reap his harvest,
and "breaking their hearts" by keeping them on the run when
the woods would yield no shelter to their lightly clad bodies. Though
he pursued the detestable policy, of which Carew was the supreme example,
of admitting none to mercy but such as had "drawn blood upon"
or betrayed their fellows, he gained the trust of the Irish by keeping
his promise inviolably to those who submitted; his public word, once given,
could always be relied upon. When Mountjoy landed in Ireland on February
26, 1600, he found himself surrounded by difficulties. The Munster rebellion
was at its height, and Carew, who had crossed over with him, was dispatched
to quell the disturbance in that province. Leix was 'out' under the irrepressible
Owny O'More, and the power of Tyrone extended southward to the borders
of the Pale. The encouraging advice that Mountjoy received on landing
was "to credit no intelligence, which was commonly false, and to
expect, besides the known enemy and a confused war, to find a broken state,
a dangerous council, and false-hearted subjects."[6] He soon learned
that the Queen had few subjects of any sort who had not some kind of intelligence
with Tyrone, even Ormonde being distrusted. The old army was so depleted
that out of one company only three men could be found, and the Government
was calling for reductions in expenses at the same moment that the English
of the Pale were refusing supplies.
[6] Fynes Moryson, History of Ireland, 1, 126.
Never had British power and British prestige sunk so low in Ireland. By
a series of brilliant victories O'Neill had made himself master in the
North and virtual King of Ireland. Both at home and abroad he was looked
upon as the head of a Catholic League recognized by the Pope, who sent
him in 1599 a crown of peacock's feathers and the title of "the Magnanimous
Prince O'Neill." [7] The promises of Spanish help once more grew
loud, and the dreams of Elizabeth and Cecil were disturbed by the important
problem as to where the Spaniards were likely to land. Tyrone's armies
were acknowledged to be better trained and more efficient than any that
could be sent over. Mountjoy expected to find hosts of "naked people"
in Tyrone's armies; but in fact he discovered that they were, in general,
"better armed than we, knew better the use of their weapons than
our men, and even exceeded us in discipline." "I received the
charge on February 28," he writes hotly to the Council in London,
"at which time I found the rebels in number and arms grown to the
very height of pride and confidence by a continual line of their successes
and our misfortunesthe army much discouraged in themselves and (believe
rne, my Lords, for you will hardly believe) much contemned by the rebels."
The moment was a critical one. In January 1600 a month before Mountjoy's
arrival, Tyrone had carried out, almost without the cognizance of the
Government, his rapid march into Munster to effect a junction with Desmond
and incidentally "to set as great combustion as he could" in
that province. His avowed object was to visit the Church of the Holy Cross
in Tipperary, but the force of nearly three thousand foot and horse with
which he arrived in Munster hardly supported the idea of a purely religious
pilgrimage. He had come, in fact, to discuss with Desmond and the Southern
insurgents a plan of united action for a general attempt to throw off
the British yoke. He was joined at Cashel by James FitzThomas FitzGerald,
the sougaun ('Straw-rope') Earl of Desmond, whose claims he had decided
to support. He agreed to the election of Fineen (Florence) MacCarthy as
the MacCarthy Mór, and the recognition by these two of O'Neill's
paramount position had the result of gathering to him every man of note
in the new national party which was now formed under his leadership For
a few months, from March to December 1600, the dream of a united Ireland
seemed to be realized, with O'Neill at its head.
[7] A crown of peacock's feathers had been granted by a former Pope to
Prince John when he went over to Ireland in 1185. Moryson says "phoenix
feathers," whatever these may have been.
Once before, at the date of the battle of Down, had such a combination
been brought about, also by the genius of an O'Neill, but, on that occasion,
the hopes raised were destined to be shattered by the results of one fatal
battle. Hugh O'Neill's struggle was a longer one. His objects accomplished
and the South brought into close correspondence with the North, he retraced
his steps to Ulster by one of those rapid marches which only Irish troops
could accomplish. He completely baffled the watchfulness of the English,
and reached his own country in eight days, having conducted a considerable
part of his army all through Ireland from Munster to Tyrone. One incident
during this short stay in Munster made a deep impression alike on the
English and the Irish. Young Hugh Maguire, Lord of Fermanagh, had accompanied
Tyrone to the South with his band of followers. He was a great favourite
with his people, and during his absence his family bard O'Hosey, at Enniskillen,
was composing in his honour an exceptionally beautiful lay, lamenting
that in the icy cold of winter the young chief should be exposed to the
impetuous fury of the heavens in some wet and grass-clad ditch in a stranger's
land. The poet comforts himself by reflecting that Maguire surely will,
according to his custom, warm his fingers by setting the whole country
ablaze before his return home.[8] But Maguire was destined to no more
such feats of war. While in the South, he was riding out one morning close
to the gates of Cork to exercise himself and his troop when, either by
accident or design, Sir Wareham St Leger and Sir Henry Power, also with
a guard of horse, passed across their path. They were acting as commissioners
for the province until Carew's arrival. St Leger and Maguire stopped short
and fell into dispute. Sir Wareham raised his pistol and took aim at Maguire,
while the latter, in order to ward off the shot, struck out at St Leger
with his staff. Both fell, Maguire being killed on the spot and the commissioner
dying shortly afterward from the wound in his head.
[8] O'Grady, Catalogue of Manuscripts in the British Museum, p. 451.
O'Hosey's, or O'Hussey's, poem is familiar in Mangan's free rendering,
beginning, "Where is my chief, my master, this black night, movrone?"
O'Hosey was the last bard of the Maguires.
News of O'Neill's movements having been brought to the new Viceroy, he
determined, without a moment's delay, to cut off his adversary's retreat.
He sent hasty messages to the Earls of Thomond and Clanricarde and to
the Mayors of Galway and Limerick to hinder his passage. There were only
two ways by which the army of Tyrone could return, either eastward by
the borders of the Pale or west over the Shannon, and the Earl of Ormonde
advised Mountjoy that the latter route would certainly be chosen. But
it soon transpired that Tyrone had broken up his forces, leaving a thousand
men to assist Desmond and eight hundred with Richard Butler, under Captain
Tyrrell, whom he appointed to command in Leinster. With his remaining
forces Tyrone had, by what Mountjoy, when he heard of it, thought "an
unreasonable day's march," slipped back into Ulster, only a few of
his men being picked off by the Viceroy's half-prepared scouts. The intelligence
of this extraordinary forced march only reached Mountjoy when he had arrived
to begin his campaign in Ulster, and the annoyance was increased by the
news which he received at the same time of Sir Wareham St Leger's death.
Nor was he likely to have been cheered by the tidings of Ormonde's capture
by the the O'Mores and of Carew's narrow escape on their journey into
Munster. On May 5 the Lord Deputy with a large army started for the North.
At Drogheda, or "Tredagh" as the English called it, he was joined
by the troops returning from victualling Philipstown, and on Whitsunday
morning he passed Moira and occupied Newry. He had with him some of the
most experienced officers of his day: among others Sir Richard Wingfield,
Sir Oliver Lambert, Sir Richard Moryson, Captains Williams and Blany,
etc. Mountjoy's instructions were much the same as those given to Essex,
but disobeyed by him; forts were to be built on Lough Foyle and at Ballyshannon
to control Tyrone and O'Donnell from behind, and considerable garrisons
were to be permanently placed in them. It was held that these could be
victualled and reinforced by sea, and that they could keep in touch with
Carrickfergus, the only fort in Ulster farther north than Drogheda, Newry,
and Trim, held by the English. The considerable number of gentlemen's
houses existing in the counties of Meath and Westmeath capable of entertaining
large parties of officers such as Mountjoy brought with him made progress
easy. In the midst of the terrors of the time it is curious to read such
an account as that of Captain Josiah Bodley, brother of the founder of
the Bodleian Library at Oxford, who arrived on Christmas Day 1602, after
a cold ride over the mountains, at Sir Richard Moryson's house at Lecale.
There, having consumed "plenty of tobacco in nice pipes, and Spanish
wine flavoured with burnt sugar, nutmeg, and ginger," they sat over
a large fire and "conversed profoundly about things political, economical,
philosophical, and much else" after the manner of the much travelled
and widely read courtier-soldiers of the day.[9]
[9] C. L. Falkiner, Illustrations of Irish History, pp. 336-337.
On a later journey from Trim to Athlone Mountjoy slept every night at
some large house, probably many of them fortified, for the insurgents
occupied most of the open country. He mentions the Baron of Tremblestown's
house near the town of Mullingar, Sir Francis Shane's house at Ballymore,
Sir Tibbot Dillon's and the Lord of Delvin's houses, and Bryan MacGeoghegan's
castle at Danoar, all about ten or twelve miles apart from each other.
We also hear of a ruined house of Sir Edward Herbert in a pleasant valley
of Westmeath, of Sir Edward FitzGerald's house in a pleasant and fruitful
district in Meath, of Sir James Dillon's "very pleasant house"
at Moymeere, besides Ardbraccan, the dwelling of the Bishops of Meath.
The most gracious and charming of all the gentlemen's mansions must have
been Sir Garrett Moore's spacious dwelling at Drogheda, formed out of
the ruins of the Cistercian abbey of Mellifont on the Boyne. He was a
man of taste and culture, and his gardens were famous for their beauty.
Sir Garrett, though an English planter, was a friend to Tyrone, and his
hospitable house was always open when there was a chance of reconciliation
between the 'rebel,' who had at times to remind his English foes that
he was also a nobleman, and the Government.
Mountjoy's march to the Blackwater was designed to attract the attention
of Tyrone and draw him southward while the main project he had in view
was being carried out. This was the expedition fitted out under Sir Henry
Docwra, who was meanwhile sent round by sea with 4000 foot and 200 horse
to land at Lough Foyle and begin the erection of the fort of Culmore.
Sir Henry, who had seen service in Connacht and was familiar with Irish
conditions, succeeded in landing his men not far from Derry, then in an
abandoned condition, containing the ruins of the old abbey and bishop's
house, and of two churches and a castle.[10] They decided to make this
the site of their settlement "as being somewhat high and therefore
dry," and they built two forts, one near the castle and one beside
the cathedral, for which they used the old stones along with those they
dug out of a new quarry close at hand. They cut down trees in O'Kane's
country, "but not a stick of it but was first well fought for,"
and they managed to establish themselves sufficiently to resist the attacks
that were constantly made upon their fort. As soon as he heard of their
success Mountjoy prepared to return to Dublin, but not until he had re-established
a fort on the Blackwater, close to Tyrone's late home, which he had burned
down with his own hands when he first got news of the English advance
into his country. This fort Mountjoy looked upon as opening a permanent
way into the interior of Ulster. He had had a sharp brush with Tyrone
near Four Mile Water, and constant skirmishing went on, but he carried
his point, and kept Tyrone engaged till the purpose for which he had come
north was accomplished. He named his Blackwater fort after Sir John Norris,
who had first projected such a fort at this spot. During the following
year Chichester, the governor of Carrickfergus, erected two other forts,
Mountjoy Fort and Charlemont on the Blackwater, a few miles farther north.
By that time it was believed that the neck of the rebellion was as good
as thoroughly broken.
[10] Docwra, " Narration," in the Miscellany of the Celtic
Society, 1849, pp. 235-286, gives an account of his experiences.
Before his return to Dublin Mountjoy made a demonstration as far north
as Carrickfergus. On his return journey he found the Irish forces posted
strongly on the narrow passage at the foot of the Mourne Mountains which
lies along Carlingford Lough. The thick woods which clothe the slopes
of the hills down to the water were filled with Tyrone's men, fighting
with all the advantage of the ground, and to get the guns through was
a matter of great difficulty. Fynes Moryson, walking in his brother's
garden six miles distant, "sensibly heard by reverberation of the
wall the sound of the volleys of shot." The man next to Tyrone was
killed, and, on the English side, many of the officers were sorely hurt.
The Lord Deputy's secretary was killed, which brought Moryson, whose memoirs
are our chief guide to these events, into Mountjoy's service. Captain
Trevor, endeavouring to bring up the guns, fell, and the spot has ever
since borne his name, as Rosstrevor.[11]
[11] Fynes Moryson, History of Ireland, i, 190-194. 'Ross' (ros) means
a wood.
The building of the fort at Ballyshannon on Donegal Bay did not progress
so well. It was in the heart of O'Donnell's country, and Sir Henry Docwra,
a capable officer and honest man, well thought of by both sides, had his
hands already full in retaining his hold on his two forts near Derry,
with the O'Kanes (O'Cahain) on one side and the MacSweeneys on the other.
He was sorely wounded by the slash of a forked javelin or staff in the
head, and Chamberlayn, his second in command, had been killed in a skirmish.
Food came irregularly, and his small companies were melting away.
It was the policy of the English, in such circumstances, to try to win
over some member of the leading families by promise of reward. They offered
Sir Arthur O'Neill, Turlogh's son, the title of Earl of Tyrone instead
of Hugh "if the other that maintained the rebellion could be dispossessed
of the country"; to Hugh Garbh or "the Rough" O'Donnell
they offered the title of Earl of Tyrconnel instead of Hugh Roe, his cousin
Both came in, and brought acceptable accessions of strength, as well as
provisions, to Docwra. Hugh Garbh, though he possessed the full confidence
of Hugh Roe, had long coveted his place and power, and the seizure of
his castle of Lifford by his cousin decided him to go over to the English.
He was not a very stable acquisition and gave both sides plenty of trouble.
Docwra found him "like a quince requiring great cost ere it be good
to eat; proud, valiant, tyrannous, un-measurably covetous, without any
knowledge of God or almost any civility." [12] Unmeasurably covetous
he undoubtedly was, claiming not only Tyrconnel, but Tyrone, Fermanagh,
and all parts of Connacht over which the O'Donnells had ever had authority.
"And he would have the people swear allegiance to him and not to
the Queen." The English used him and then threw him aside, and even
his own people did not regret his fate. O'Donnell found him a thorn in
his side, "prying about to see whether they might get a chance of
a prey for the English."
[12] O'Clery, Life of Red Hugh O'Donnell, p. clvi.
A great blow was given to O'Donnell's hopes when, instead of the Spanish
armada he expected, a single vessel with quite inadequate supplies arrived
in Donegal Bay, under the command of a Franciscan who came as joint envoy
of Pope Clement VIII and of Philip III of Spain, but who brought little
except the usual ample promises of support. His correspondence shows that
the Viceroy was making great efforts for peace, "to all which they
reply most honourably that they will hold out so long as they have one
soldier or there remains one cow to eat," [13] It was on one of Niall
Garbh's raids that Donegal monastery was destroyed by an explosion of
gunpowder on August 10, 1601; hundreds of the besieged were blown to pieces,
and others, including Niall's brother, were crushed under the falling
masonry.[14] Later the few remaining friars crept back and rebuilt their
cells; and it was within these ruinous walls that between January 1632
and August 1636 Friar Michael O'Clery and his fellow-workers compiled
the Annals of Donegal, better known as the Annals of the Four Masters,
bringing them down to their own date. The news that the Spaniards had
landed in Kinsale caused O'Donnell to break up his camp and march south.
On the day that this news reached Docwra, the English commander set out
for Donegal and captured Ballyshannon. Thus the main purpose of his journey
to Ulster was at last accomplished.
[13] Ibid., p. cxvii
[14] Ibid., pp. 289-291.
END OF CHAPTER XVII
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