Ireland under the Tudors, with a Succinct Account of the Earlier History. Vol. 2 (of 3)

Fitzwilliam had blamed Piers and Maltby for not lying in the fields during the winter, but in spite of the Queen’s order he delayed his own journey to Ulster till the end of March. Tirlogh Luineach, who could not repress his pride of race, took the highest possible ground, styling himself prince, and declaring that he had only chastised those who were his own subjects. He expected soon to be at the head of 3,000 or 4,000 men, and the English companies were very weak. Fitzwilliam found he could trust no nominal muster, and resolved to count heads himself. A general hosting would be necessary, but for this it would be wiser to wait till Sidney came. So miserable were the arrangements that Fitzwilliam had to leave Carrickfergus for want of victuals. To hasten his departure he was told that his life was in danger, and the monstrous suggestion was made that Maltby, than whom the Queen had no better officer, was in the plot. And thus the early summer passed away, the Lord Justice suffering from dysentery, the soldiers half starving, the captains afraid to trust each other, and the Irish killing and plundering as if there had been no Queen in England. The chiefs who had hitherto remained faithful still protested their loyalty, but fled before Fitzwilliam, in the belief that he had come to spoil them. The local Commissioners had denied that he was coming. Finding themselves deceived, they had been forced to make a precipitous retreat in order to place their cattle in safety. The approach of the Governor was a signal for loyal subjects to conceal their property.[142]

The general course of government during Sidney’s absence was not much more successful than that of the outlying provinces. The chief weight of it, especially when Fitzwilliam was in the North, fell upon the Lord Chancellor, an excellent man, and universally respected. His fee of 100l. was, as Cecil confessed, notoriously insufficient, and he was expected to eke it out by the revenues of the Deanery of St. Patrick’s. His conscience rebelled against this, for no one knew better how little religion and education could afford to lose any part of their endowment. ‘Attend at least,’ he besought Cecil, ‘to the perfectly obedient districts, the less they feel their degradation the more it moveth me to bewail and to name some remedy.’ The Archbishop of Dublin had made some stir, but as yet any fruits of the reformation were confined to his cathedrals. Financial matters were in no better case. Vice-Treasurer Fitzwilliam’s accounts had not been audited for more than nine years, and the unchecked balance amounted to near 400,000l. The soldiers’ pay was in arrears, and means were wanting to pay even the most pressing creditors. The ignorance of the common and statute law was as great as that of the Gospel. The old complaints of family alliances among the lawyers were repeated. When we consider that there were no published Acts of Parliament, it is easy to understand how great may have been the power of this privileged class. It was said, and probably with truth, that the Irish nobility often had the judges practically in their pay; and there was little justice to be had by the Crown on the one hand, or by the poor subjects on the other.[143]

It does not appear whether Desmond was committed to the Tower on his arrival in London; but he found himself in close confinement there within six weeks, and complained that he was not treated as became his rank. The Queen may have felt doubts about his promise of repayment being fulfilled, but there were better reasons than that for treating him somewhat sternly. Two sons of old O’Connor Faly, who had given so much trouble in past reigns, had been some time prisoners in London. Both were proclaimed traitors, and both admitted that the Earl had harboured them and others in the same legal position. The sworn examination of Cahir throws so much light on the way of life in Ireland that it may well be given entire:—

‘He saith that understanding his brother Cormac to be with the Earl of Desmond, he came into the said Earl’s country to Adare. There he met a boy of his said brother’s who told him he was departed that morning and followed Lysaght MacMorogh O’Connor and his company, with a guide of the Earl’s appointment. Said Cahir forthwith followed, and about four or five miles from Adare met Lysaght and the Earl’s man, and the next morning met his brother Cormac. They all continued with the Earl’s man for a fortnight, resorting to every place within a certain precinct of the country for that time to eat and drink. The names of the places where they were so entertained he remembereth as ensueth. First, from the place where they met they went to a town wherein there is a castle called Ballyvolane, where dwelleth one of the said Desmond’s household, and there they continued two nights. Thence they went to MacAulliffe’s castle, where they remained two days, and from thence, by appointment of the said Earl’s man, they came to Drishane castle, and there continued one night. Thence they went to Pobble O’Keefe, and there continued one night, and thence to MacDonogh’s country, where they stayed two days. Thence they went to the old prior O’Callaghan’s, where they rested one night. And for that the time was expected which was assigned and appointed by the Earl to his man and the said Lysaght to resort to those places as aforesaid, and that the said man, called Teig MacDonnell, durst not resort with them to any place before he had further instructions as commanded from the said Earl, and for that the said Lysaght was the said Earl’s near kinsman, they thought good to send him, with another of their company called Shane O’Moony, to the said Earl’s being at Connigse, Shane MacCragh’s house, to obtain of the said Earl further instructions and licence to spend on the country by way of coyne or other succour. So after the said Lysaght departed, the said Cormac and Cahir, with the residue of their said company, went to a castle called Carrignavar, where they remained a night. Next morning they went to a place where they and the said Lysaght O’Connor did appoint to meet at his return from the said Earl, at which place they met the said Shane O’Moony. But the said Lysaght stayed with the said Earl, and the said Shane then told them that the Earl’s pleasure was that Cormac and Cahir should go with the foresaid Teige MacDonnell, the said Earl’s man, to Donogh MacCarthy, and there to remain until after his return from Waterford; and said further that the said Earl of Desmond willed him to tell the said Cormac and Cahir that, if at Waterford he did agree with the Governor he would be a mean for them; and then willed the residue of the said company to resort unto him to attend with the said Lysaght MacMorogh, or the said Desmond. And so they continued with the said Earl until he went into Sir Maurice Fitzgerald’s country, where then, at the conflict between the Earls of Ormonde and Desmond, the said Lysaght MacMorogh O’Connor was slain. Art O’Connor, brother to Gerot MacShane, was killed also. Connor MacCormac O’Connor was hurt and escaped, and divers others slain. During which time the said Cormac and Cahir continued at Donogh MacCarthy’s aforesaid, as they were willed to do until such time as they heard of the overthrow given to the said Earl of Desmond, and then they departed the said Donogh MacCarthy’s house and also gave over the said Earl’s man. Thence they went to MacCarthy More’s country, where Cahir departed from his brother Cormac and returned to O’Sullivan’s country, the said Cahir having occasion there to speak with some of his kindred. And from thence the said Cahir followed his brother Cormac to O’Connor Kerry’s country, where it was told Cahir by O’Connor Kerry that his said brother Cormac was departed towards John of Desmond. Two nights after Cahir, in company with Teige MacMorogh, the chiefest of the proclaimed traitors of the O’Briens, went from the said O’Connor’s house to John of Desmond to meet his said brother Cormac, which was then, as he learned, gone to Thomond. Afterwards he returned to the Earl of Desmond’s country, and at Askeaton the said Cahir sent one Teige Roe O’Meagher, then attendant about the said John, to the said John to show him the said Cahir’s brother was gone to Thomond, and that the said Cahir was willing and desirous to tarry in Sir John’s company until his brother returned from Thomond, which would not be for a sevennight. The said Sir John sent word by Teige O’Meagher that Cahir was welcome, and willed him to continue in his company and keep his name secret and private. The said Cahir willed the messenger to tell Sir John that he named himself by a contrary name, that is to say, MacQuillin’s son of the Route, who was banished by the Scots. And so in the said Sir John’s company he continued for a week or thereabouts, and for that the said Cormac came not, the foresaid Cahir followed him into Thomond.’[144]

Desmond did not deny that he had given meat and drink to some proclaimed traitors, but pleaded that Irish hospitality could scarcely do less, and that he had never helped them to do any harm. He maintained stiffly that he had authority to rule all Munster Geraldines, and to decide their causes without any regard to sheriffs. Sir Maurice Fitzgerald, evidence of whose tenure from the Crown was recorded in the Exchequer, protested energetically against this theory. A long list of outrages in Munster was charged against the Earl, and mention was made of a little friar who had been a messenger between him and the O’Neills, and who had been found begging in their camp after Shane’s death. Finding that the case was likely to go against them, and feeling that they were in the lion’s mouth, the Earl and his brother thought it wise to make a general surrender of all their lands into her Majesty’s hands; and Desmond even brought himself to beg that she would place a President and Council in Munster. So far as law went, Elizabeth now had Munster at her mercy, but she kept fast hold on her prisoners until time should declare how far the law coincided with the facts.[145]

The leader of the Northern Geraldines, who had, perhaps, no fancy either for the Tower or for a renewed exile, had his accusers at this time, and later events tend to prove that they were not without justification. In 1534 it had been David Sutton, a Kildare gentleman of ancient race, who had led the attack on the ninth Earl of Kildare, and laid bare the many abuses of his rule. ‘The office of belling the cat,’ says a modern writer, ‘descended hereditarily to Oliver Sutton,’ who attacked his grandson and namesake. In 1565 he presented to the Queen articles containing matters of the gravest importance against Kildare. He had previously complained to Arnold, but that despotic proconsul was submissive to the Earl, and imprisoned the unfortunate reformer for sixteen weeks. In fear of his life, Sutton was obliged to quit his lands and to hide from the local tyrant’s rage in Dublin or England. Arnold was confessedly a reformer himself, and, except from partiality to Kildare, it is hard to see why he treated Sutton so harshly, while listening with excessive credulity to all Bermingham’s representations. Coyne and livery in their most oppressive forms and every kindred exaction were charged against the Earl. The bastard Geraldines and Keatings were supported by him, even when openly resisting the Queen’s troops. They boasted that the Earl, and not the English power, really defended the country, and that there would be no quiet until he became chief Governor. Pride of blood made them wish to enslave all others, and ‘the daily exclamations of the poor were right sorrowful to hear.’ The Queen, having heard Sutton herself and read his reports, sent him back to Ireland, of which Sidney had assumed the government, observing that they touched Kildare too directly, and that she was loth to believe evil of her cousin until it could be proved. Yet she was evidently strongly impressed, and gave orders for Sutton’s personal protection. The inquiry dragged on for more than two years, Sutton reiterating his charges and Kildare thwarting him in various ways. The Earl’s service, he said, had all been at the Queen’s expense, for he received the pay of 300 men, which he made the country support. Jobbing was universal, and no one was more concerned in maintaining the system than Kildare. Yet Sutton’s heart began to sink: he complained that he was too poor to strive with the powerful Earl, and that all his exertions had but served to excite his vengeance. He probably failed to prove his whole case, but Sidney was directed to make particular inquiry, and not to discourage Sutton. Yet he too was evidently prejudiced in the Earl’s favour, and recommended him for a garter. In this he relied on the authority of Henry VII., ‘who made his grandfather knight and wist full well what he did’—an ominous precedent and an argument unworthy of Sidney. Cecil evidently believed in Sutton, and begged Sidney to befriend him, even if in some degree deserving of blame. That he was not altogether ruined is shown by his appearance in 1571 as plaintiff in a successful Chancery suit; but he failed in making any serious impression on Kildare’s position.[146]

It was at this critical period that the English Government thought fit to allow an enterprise, the success of which was enough to make the great mass of Irish and Anglo-Irish landlords shake in their shoes. The adventurer was Sir Peter Carew, of Mohuns Ottery in Devon, who, at the age of fifty-four, set himself a task more arduous than any which had yet occupied his stormy and eventful life.

In his case it was more than commonly true that the boy was the father of the man. When only twelve the citizen of Exeter, with whom he lodged, pursued him during one of his many absences from school, and found him on the city walls. ‘Running to take him, the boy climbed upon the top of one of the highest garrets of a turret of the said wall, and would not for any request come down, saying, moreover, to his host that if he did press too fast upon him he would surely cast himself down headlong over the wall, "and then," saith he, "I shall break my neck, and thou shalt be hanged because thou makest me to leap down."’ His father was sent for, and ordered the boy to be led home in a leash. Afterwards he coupled him for some time to a hound. Further endeavours failed to make ‘young Peter to smell to a book, or to like of any schooling,’ and he was allowed to accompany a friend who had a post about the embassy at Paris, and who neglected him shamefully. He afterwards lived as a horse-boy in a French nobleman’s train, without any inquiry being made by his affectionate parents. While yet a boy he fought at the siege of Pavia, changed sides opportunely, and served Philibert of Orange till that prince’s death. The Princess, after a time, gave him a letter of recommendation to Henry VIII. ‘The young gentleman,’ says his biographer, ‘... rode to Mohuns Ottery, where his father dwelled, and understanding his father and mother to be within, went into the house without further delay, and finding them sitting together in a parlour, forthwith in most humble manner kneeled before them and asked their blessing, and therewith presented the Princess of Orange’s letters.... They were much astounded, ... but Sir William having read the Princess’s letters, and being persuaded that he was his son Peter, were not a little joyful, but received him with all gladness, and also welcomed the gentlemen, whom he and his wife entertained in the best manner they could.’

After this Carew was employed on every kind of service, in Scotland, Turkey, Italy, Flanders, France; his admirable mastery of the French language and his skill on horseback with the sword and with the lance making him everywhere remarkable. Henry VIII. helped him to a rich wife, but died before the marriage, which was celebrated on Edward VI.’s coronation day, when the bridegroom, as one of the six challengers, ‘like Ulysses in honour of his Penelope, wore her sleeve upon his head-piece, and acquitted himself very honourably.’ Like Ulysses, too, when he had gained his Penelope, Carew ‘could not rest from travel.’ He helped to put down the anti-Protestant rising in the West, and on the King’s death hastened to proclaim his Catholic sister. But life, either at Mohuns Ottery or at his wife’s place in Lincolnshire, was too safe and too dull for the old campaigner. He became involved in Wyatt’s conspiracy, and had to fly to Antwerp, where he was seized by Philip’s myrmidons, and had the adventure in Sir John Cheke’s company which has already been mentioned.

At Elizabeth’s accession Carew was received into favour, but that peculiar Court did not suit his humour, and he offended Gloriana by joining the ranks of those who urged her to marry. Her resentment was not very long or deep, and she ‘gave him very good things, which were as liberally, if not wastefully, consumed.’ In 1560 he was sent on a confidential mission to Scotland, where the dissensions of Norfolk and Grey, and her Majesty’s own double dealing, threatened disaster to the English arms. Fearing to trust anyone, he was obliged to write his own letters with a hand more used to the sword than the pen. On his return Elizabeth acknowledged his good service, and ‘being somewhat pleasant with him, thanked him for his letters of his own penning, commending him to be a very good secretary, for indeed he wrote them with no more pain than she had labour to read them, for as he spent a night in writing, so she spent a whole night in reading.’[147]

A country life can seldom satisfy a man of action, even though he be reckoned ‘the wisest justice on the banks of Trent,’ and Carew found it very dull in Devonshire. To beguile the time, and having some vague inkling of castles in Ireland, he ransacked the archives at Mohuns Ottery, and found many parchments which he was unable to read. His curiosity increasing daily, he sought the aid of John Hooker, Chamberlain of Exeter, who loved records as much as Mr. Welbore Ellis loved Blue-books. This eminent antiquary had for his nephew the famous Richard Hooker, and to his learned uncle the great author of the ‘Ecclesiastical Polity’ owed his University education and the patronage of Bishop Jewell. To Hooker’s eye the value of Carew’s parchments was at once apparent, and he succeeded in making a fair transcript, though the oldest document had been trodden under foot and nearly obliterated. Sir Peter, being satisfied of his descent from men who had held great possessions in Ireland, went to the Queen and asked leave to recover his own. This was but too readily granted, and orders were sent from her Majesty in Council requiring the help of all royal officers in Ireland. Hooker was straightway despatched thither, and his arrival caused a commotion which might have disheartened anyone less determined than his employer. He obtained leave to search the Dublin archives, and proved to his own satisfaction that Sir Peter was entitled to the Barony of Idrone in Leinster, to certain great seignories in Munster, and to Duleek and other manors in Meath, ‘and that nothing could be found to prejudice or impeach his title, but only prescription, which in that land holdeth not.’[148]

Sir Peter claimed a vast inheritance in Munster as heir to the conqueror Robert FitzStephen, whose only daughter was supposed to have married a Carew. Unfortunately for this theory Giraldus twice states in the plainest language that FitzStephen had no legitimate offspring, and it is hard to see how his testimony can possibly be shaken on such a point. Carew may perhaps have married his natural daughter, but that would give him no title at all under the grant of Henry II.; and his claims over the vast region between Lismore and St. Brandon’s Head in Kerry may therefore be dismissed. That the Carews did, however, by some means become possessed of much land in Munster is none the less clear. There was a Marquis Carew who, at some period before the accession of Henry IV., had a revenue of 2,200l. in the county of Cork, besides the possession and profits of Dursey and other havens there. The Carews seem to have left Ireland altogether in the time of Richard II., so that in any case there was a prescription of 170 years against Sir Peter. The English heralds manufactured a pedigree for him ‘in colours very orderly,’ bringing down his title from FitzStephen’s mythical daughter: and had not political considerations stood in the way, it is probable that his title would have been admitted by the Crown.[149]

Hooker took a house in Dublin for his principal, and warned him that most things would have to be brought from England, and that it was difficult to raise even 20l. in the Irish capital. The raw material of good housekeeping—fish, flesh, and fowl—was to be had; but sugar and spices, a steward, a cook, a physician, and a surgeon, would all have to be imported. These preparations being at last completed, Carew set sail from Ilfracombe, and landed at Waterford, whither Hooker lost no time in repairing. Thither also came two other men of Devon, Thomas Stukeley, at this time Constable of Leighlin, the stormy petrel of Elizabeth’s time, and Henry Davells, afterwards the victim of a frightful tragedy. Both professed themselves anxious to help their countryman in his attempt to recover the Barony of Idrone in Carlow, which had formerly belonged to his family, and which Hooker had already inspected. Davells and Stukeley accompanied Carew to Leighlin, where the latter entertained him, and where he received several chiefmen of the Kavanaghs, which clan had been in possession of Idrone since Richard II.’s day at least. Sir Peter informed them that he was their lord, and was come to claim his own, ‘which speeches were not so hard unto them but they more hardly digested them.’[150]

Having so far advanced his claim to Idrone, Carew repaired to Dublin, where he kept open house pending Sidney’s arrival. His claim was naturally the general subject of conversation, and an old lady professed to see in his coming the fulfilment of a prophecy that the dead should rise again. He decided to make his first serious attack in Meath upon the manor of Maston, held by Sir Christopher Cheevers, a gentleman of old family, and connected with the principal people of the Pale and the principal lawyers in Dublin. But one Irish barrister could be got to take his brief, and it seems that he afterwards threw it up, for an Exeter man, William Peryam, of the Middle Temple, afterwards Chief Baron, was brought over specially for the occasion. A Bill was filed before the Lord Deputy and Council, but the common lawyers retained by Cheevers advised that the suit could not be maintained there. Peryam rested his case on naked prerogative, and the two Chief Justices gave a private opinion in his favour, on the ground that Carew could have no fair trial at law. Sir Christopher had no chance of a fair trial before the Council, and was therefore fain to compromise the case. The weight of documentary evidence, a prescription of at least 170 years being allowed no weight at all, seems to have been on Sir Peter’s side, and Cheevers offered him eighteen years’ purchase for the lands in dispute. Carew voluntarily offered them for fifteen, and he did not insist even on this. Cheevers seems to have worked on his generosity by talking of his wife and children, and in the end had ‘the whole land released unto him almost for nothing, saving a drinking nut of silver worth about 20l., and three or four horses worth about 30l.’ Carew’s adventurous nature may have been satisfied with the honours of war, or he may have thought it good policy to make friends in Dublin before embarking on the greater undertakings which he had in view.[151]

The ruling in the Cheevers case governed the others, and, Sidney having returned to his government, the Council assumed the power of dealing with Idrone. Three of the Kavanaghs appeared, but they had, of course, no documentary evidence to advance against Sir Peter, who was adjudged the heir of Dygon, Baron of Idrone in the early part of the fourteenth century. Prescription being again altogether ignored, it was assumed as incontestable that Eva’s marriage with Strongbow had carried the fee of Leinster with it. The Kavanaghs, descendants of the royal tribe, and by Irish law rightful owners of the land, were held common rebels and trespassers, and were strictly enjoined to allow Carew quiet possession. That the Crown had over and over again negotiated with the Kavanaghs, and had twice created baronies in their blood, was passed over as of no consequence. Most of the Kavanaghs bowed to fate, and accepted Carew as their landlord. The earth tillers had to pay him rent, but were not otherwise dissatisfied with him, for he maintained order in the district, and by the establishment of courts baron provided for the due course of local justice. But his name stank in the nostrils of those who had been accustomed to fish in troubled waters, the kernes and idlemen of Wexford and Carlow; and they watched for an opportunity to rid themselves of this old man of the sea. They were not long in finding a leader.[152]

About the time that Desmond was making his submission in London, James Fitzmaurice broke out in Kerry, having strengthened his usual band by enlisting malcontents from Limerick, Tipperary, and Cork. He began by taking 200 cows from Lord Fitzmaurice, wasting his country, and sitting down before his castle of Lixnaw, though straightly charged by the Lord Justice not to enter Clanmaurice. The cattle, he said, were but security for rent, the other damages were in return for those which the Lord of Lixnaw had previously committed in Desmond. Causes of quarrel were sure to be plentiful enough, and Lord Fitzmaurice had brought his wild Irish friends from beyond the Shannon, so that perhaps there was not much to choose between them. A battle followed, in which James Fitzmaurice was defeated. At least 300 lives were lost, and the sons of O’Callaghan, the White Knight, and others of his followers were taken. Finding himself too weak to do much without help, the Desmond leader sought allies both in and out of Ireland, living by plunder in the meantime, and totally disregarding all letters from the Government.[153]

On the very day that Sidney landed the Lords Justices wrote most gloomily of the political prospect. Tirlogh Luineach was in open rebellion; he had spoiled part of Louth, and it was thought fortunate that he had escaped, for he was in such force that had he turned upon Lord Louth and his party he would probably have beaten them. On all sides troubles were brewing; the Exchequer was empty, the army weak, and the dark nights which the Irish loved were coming on fast. But the greatest danger of all came from a quarter whence governors were accustomed to look for support only. The House of Ormonde itself seemed to have changed its nature; the rod upon which every Viceroy had leaned threatened to pierce the hand at last. Edward Butler, the Earl’s younger brother, was a turbulent and hot-headed youth. In the chief’s absence another brother, Sir Edmund, had the care of his country, but he was unable, and perhaps unwilling, to keep Edward properly in check. MacBrien Arra, the chief of a clan which in the later Middle Ages had wrested part of Tipperary from the Butlers, appears to have been at this time peaceable and loyal, looking only to the Government for protection against his greater neighbours. Edward Butler probably thought him fair game, and invaded Arra with 1,000 men, horse, foot, and camp followers—desperadoes apparently of the worst character. According to ancient Irish custom all movable property was stored in two churches, and thither the frightened women fled in the vain hope of sanctuary. The country was harried far and wide. The churches were broken open, and for forty-eight hours the invaders plundered and ravished, sparing neither age nor condition. The lately gathered corn was destroyed, and famine stared the whole population in the face. ‘As for me, my good lords, I do not a little marvel of such deeds and facts,’ said MacBrien, ‘true subjects robbed and spoiled daily, and poor tenants driven to beg their bread, banished from their dwellings, and notable malefactors succoured and maintained, contrary to the Queen’s Majesty’s good laws; assuring your honours, since Shane O’Neill died, there is not the like maintainer of rebels as Mr. Edward is; and although Sir Edmund doth say that he cannot rule Mr. Edward of his riotous doings, it is but a saying, and not true.’ He desired redress, or leave to revenge himself, and he went to Dublin to urge his suit. The result was not altogether encouraging; for in his absence Edward Butler visited his country a second time, killed his uncle, drove off his cattle, and burned a house full of women and children. Wearied with continual outrages, his wife wrote to beg that he would take a farm in the Pale, where there might be some chance of a quiet life. ‘When men go to England,’ she said, ‘or to Dublin, where the law is ministered, those who remain behind spoil them the more.’[154]

After his first attack on MacBrien, Edward Butler wandered away into the King’s County. There was a standing dispute between the O’Carrolls and the Butlers, the latter alleging that Ely was part of Tipperary, the former that it belonged to the more lately formed shire and was consequently outside Ormonde’s palatinate jurisdiction. Thady O’Carroll, one of the chief’s three sons, had married a Galway lady, and on his way towards the Shannon to visit his father-in-law was unlucky enough to come across Edward Butler’s band. O’Carroll had but a few men with him, and it is therefore not at all likely that he was the assailant in the skirmish which followed, and in which he was taken prisoner. As to the previous quarrels, which Butler alleged as a reason for keeping armed men, the Lords Justices seem to have thought there was much to be said on both sides, but they charged Butler to appear before them at once, and warned him of the danger of taking the law into his own hands. Sir William O’Carroll was also summoned, but neither were in any hurry to obey, and the matter was quite unsettled when Sidney landed at Carrickfergus.[155]

CHAPTER XXVI.
FROM 1568 TO 1570.

Sidney lost no time in trying to realise his idea of bridling the North with forts and bridges. He surveyed Clandeboye and Ards, and declared them the shire of Carrickfergus—an arrangement afterwards departed from. He met Tirlogh Luineach at the Bann, and thought him inclined to obey. The various castles already garrisoned he found in good order, the people readily selling the soldiers a fat cow for 6s. 8d. and twenty-four eggs for 1d. In Carrickfergus a good market was kept twice a week, to which commodities were brought from the Pale, from Scotland and Man, and even from France. Three 40-ton cargoes of claret were sold at nine cowskins a hogshead. ‘The Archbishop of Armagh and the Bishop of Meath, with divers noblemen and gentlemen as well of England as the English Pale, lawyers, merchants, and others came from Dublin to Carrickfergus, only for visitation sake, the Bishops riding in their rochets, and the rest unarmed.’ A treaty was made with Sir Brian MacPhelim to build a proper carriage bridge over the Laggan at Belfast, to cut passes through the woods, to supply fuel for making bricks, and to protect men building or repairing ships in the Lough. On his road to Dublin most of the chiefs and gentlemen came to pay their respects to the Lord Deputy.[156]

Sidney believed that all Ulster difficulties originated in Scotland. Argyle did not pretend to be guided by any rule but the good of his own country, and he had 5,000 men always ready to invade Ireland if he did not approve of Elizabeth’s policy. He loved Sidney, he said, better than any other Viceroy, and for that reason would rather see him anywhere than in Ulster. Sir Francis Knollys was Scotland’s bitterest enemy, but he would willingly put him in Sidney’s place, where he could do far less harm than at Court. Lord Herries was not even careful to use civil language. James MacDonnell’s widow professed herself friendly, but said the clan would never forego its Irish claims until it was quite extinct. Donnell Gorm, born in Ireland and friendly to England, claimed the lordship of the Isles, and was in alliance with the Campbells—a reluctant tie which might easily be cut. His ancestors had a pension of 200l. from England, and its renewal would be money well spent. Rathlin Island, which was full of cattle—the very stable and baiting-place of the Scots—should be fortified and held, and this might be done for 300l. a year. A regular military occupation of the whole province would be intolerably costly, but half a dozen strong places on the coast might be provided for 2,000l. yearly. A town at Armagh and a bridge at Blackwater were quite necessary. In the meantime Dundalk Bridge might be repaired, and Bagenal’s unfurnished castles at Newry, Carlingford, and Greencastle might be made tenable for 2,000l. If the Scots were once disposed of, it would be easy to govern Ireland; the O’Neills would then be shut up in their own province, and would have to work or to starve.[157]