THE STORY OF IRELAND

New Zealand Tablet, 1 April 1920, Page 7

THE STORY OF IRELAND

(By A. M. Sullivan.)

CHAPTER XLlX.—(Continued.) Early in August, Mountjoy had arranged, what he hoped might prove the finishing stroke in the struggle; Dowcra from Derry, Chichester from Carrigfergus, Danvers from Armagh, and all who could be spared from Mountjoy, Charlemont, and Mountnorris, were gathered under his command, to the number of eight thousand men, for a foray into the interior of Tyrone. Inisloghlin, on the borders of Down and Antrim, which contained a great quantity of valuables belonging to O’Neill, was captured, Magherlowney and Tulloghoge were next taken. At the latter place stood the ancient stone chair on which the O’Neills were inaugurated, time out of mind; it was now broken into atoms by Mountjoy’s orders. But the most effective warfare was made on the growing crops. The eight thousand men spread themselves over the fertile fields, along the valleys of the Banu and the Roe, destroy-' ing the standing grain with fire, where it would burn,’ or with the praca, a peculiar kind of harrow, tearing it up by the roots. The horsemen trampled crops into the earth which had generously nourished them; the infantry shore them down with their sabres; and the sword, though in a very different sense from that of Holy Scripture, was, indeed, converted into a sickle. The harvest moon never shone upon such fields in any Christian land. In September, Mountjoy reported to Cecil ‘ that between Tullaghoge and Toome there lay unburied a thousand, dead,’ and that since his arrival on the Blackwater —a period- of a couple of months —there were three thousand starved in Tyrone. In O’Cane’s country, the misery, of his clansmen drove the chief to surrender to Dowcra, and the news of Hugh Roe’s death having reached Donegal, his brother repaired to Athlone, and 1 made his submission to Mountjoy. Early in December, O’Neill, unable to maintain himself on the river Roe, retired with six hundred foot and sixty horse to Glencancean, near Lough Neagh, the most secure of his fastnesses. His brother Cormac, McMahon, and Art O’Neil, of Clandeboy, shared with him the wintry hardships of that asylum, while Tyrone, Clandeboye and Monaghan were given up to horrors, surpassing any that had been-known, or dreamt of in former wars.” By this time O’Sullivan had bravely held his position in Glengariffe for full six months against all the efforts of the Munster army. That picturesque glen, whose beauty is of world-wide fame, was for Donal a camp formed by Nature, within which the old and helpless, the women and children of his clan, with their kine and sheep, were safely placed, while the fighting force, which, with Tyrrell’s contingent, did not exceed 800 men, guarded the few passes through which alone the alpine barriers of the glen could be penetrated. Here the little community, as wo might call them, housed in tents of evergreen boughs, lived throughout the summer and autumn months, “waiting for the news from Spain.” They fished the “fishful river” that winds through that elysian vale, and the myriad confluent streams that pour down from the “hundred lakes” of Caha. They hunted the deer that in those days, as in our own, roamed wild and free through the densely wooded craggy dells. Each morning the guards were told off for the mountain watches; and each evening the bugles of the chief, returning from his daily inspection, or the joyous shouts of victory that proclaimed some new assault of the enemy repulsed, woke the echoes of tho hills. And perhaps in the calm summer twilight, the laugh and the song went round; the minstrels touched their harps, and i the clansmen improvised their simple rustic sports, while the Chief and Lady Aileen moved through the groups with a gracious smile for all! For they nothing doubted that soon would come the glad tidings that King Philip’s ships were in the bay; and then!Beara would be swept of tho hated foe, and their loved Dunboy .... again woidd rise And mock the English rover! Alas! this happy dream was to fade in sorrow, and die out in bitterest reality of despair! News came indeed from Spain at length; but it was news that sounded the knell of all their hopes to O’Sullivan and his people! ! O’Donnell was dead, and on hearing of the fall of Dunboy the Spanish Government had countermanded the expedition assembled and on the point of sailing for Ireland! This was heart-crushing intelligence for Donal and his confederates. Nevertheless they held out still. --- There remained one. faint glimmer in the north; and while there was a sword unsheathed anywhere in the sacred cause of fatherland they would not put up theirs. They gave I Carew’s captains hot work throughout . Desmond for the

remainder of the autumn, capturing several strong positions, and driving in his outlying garrisons in Muskerry and the Carberies. But soon even the northern ray went out, and the skies all around were wrapt in Cimmerian gloom. There was room for hope no more! What was now Donal’s position ? It is, difficult adequately to realise it! Winter was upon him; the mountains were deep in snow; his resources were exhausted ; he was cooped up in a remote glen, with a crowd of helpless people, the aged and infirm, women and children, and with barely a few hundred fighting men to guard them. He was environed by foes on all hands. The nearest point where an ally could be reached was in Ulster, at the other extremity of Ireland — or three hundred miles away and the country between him and any such friendly ground was all in the hands of the English, and swarmed with their garrisons and scouring parties. The resolution taken by O’Sullivan under these circumstances was one which has ever since excited amongst historical writers and military critics the liveliest sentiments of astonishment and admiration. It was to pierce through his surrounding foes, and fight .his way northward inch by inch to Ulster; convoying meantime the women and children, the aged, sick , and wounded of his clan—in fine, all who might elect to claim his protection and share his retreat rather than trust the perils of remaining. It was this latter feature which pre-eminently stamped the enterprise as almost without precedent. For 400 men, under such circumstances, to cub their way from Glengariffe to Leitrim, even if divested of every other charge or duty save the clearing of their own path, would be sufficiently daring to form an episode of romance; and had Donal more regard for his own safety than for his “poor people,” this would have been the utmost attempted by him. But he was resolved, let what might befall, not to abandon even the humblest or the weakest amongst them. While he had a sword to draw, ho would defend them and he would seek no safety or protection for himself that was not shared by them. His own wife, and, at least, the youngest of his children, he left behind in the charge of his devoted foster-brother, Mac Swiney, who successfully concealed them until the chief’s return, nearly eight months subsequently, in an almost inaccessible spot at the foot of an immense precipice in the Glengariffo mountains, now known as the Eagle's Nest. Many other families also elected to try the chance of escape from Carew’s scouring parties, and remained behind, hidden in the fastnesses of that wild region. (To be continued.)