English Decline. 1318-1399.

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CHAPTER IV** *

The Decline of English Power***

1318-1399 **

“Perchance it is the chastisement of God, whereby these lands are suffered to struggle continually one with the other, so that neither is England ever wholly victorious, nor Ireland thoroughly subdued.*” - Giraidus Gambrensis. *

The Scottish invasion, although successfully repelled, left the Irish government very weak. The colonists had lost a great number of men in battle, and the ravages of the Bruces had turned the country into a desert. The suicidal feuds of the Anglo-Irish nobles still continued, and gave the dispossessed natives an opportunity, which they were quick to seize, of regaining their ancestral estates. Castle after castle fell before the clansmen, until finally the Writ of the English King only “ran” some twelve or 20 miles from Dublin.

Towns like Cork and Waterford were so harassed by incessant attacks that their citizens grew weary of the eternal, fruitless struggle and returned to England by every ship. Probably only the protection of the viceroy’s household troops saved Dublin from a similar experience. However, even the capital was sometimes reduced to the dishonourable expedient of paying the Irish chieftains a “black rent” or annual tribute to ensure freedom from their raids.

But it was yet to experience a more dreadful visitation, which no sum of money could buy off*. *The devastations of the great wars produced a famine over the whole country. The burghers of Dublin were in sore straits for food, when they were providentially relieved by the stranding of a whole school of whales at the mouth of the Dodder at Ringsend.

The chronicler calls them “Turlehydes,” and states that they were 30 or 40 feet long, and so thick in the body that a man standing on one side could not see a man on the other. The city was rescued for the moment only to find, later on, that the terrible famine had bred the still more terrible pestilence. Every few years it descended on the cramped, refuse-strewn streets of-the mediaeval town and carried off thousands of victims.

The ugly spectre of religious fanaticism and persecution began to raise its head. In 1327** **Adam Duff O’Toole was burned in College Green for heresy. He seems to have been what would now be called an atheist, for he denied the doctrine of the Resurrection, Trinity and Incarnation, declared the Scriptures a fable and the apostolical see an imposture and usurpation.

Two or three years before Dublin had been the scene of a great trial for witchcraft, in which the prior of Kilmainham was indirectly implicated. Four bishops decided against the accused, and a woman named Petronilla was burned at the stake. The specific acts alleged were of the familiar kind - causing men to waste away by deadly spells, riding on magic sticks, which had been dipped in a hell-broth of noxious ingredients, and holding intercourse with a familiar spirit, apparently of Norman origin, called FitzArt, who appeared now as a black cat or hairy dog, now as a formidable triple negro armed with iron rods.

About this time parliaments began to be held in Ireland. In the year 1333** **one assembled in the Carmelite Convent, Dublin. There was little or no popular representation; the attendance was confined to the nobles, and many of these dared not leave their estates, or trust themselves to the hazards of a journey in view of the activity of the “Irish enemies.”

The feuds of the great lords, who came to parliament, were so bitter that their retainers stabbed each other in the very doors of the assembly. The leading families of the period were the De Burghs or Burkes of Connaught, the Butlers of Kilkenny, and the Fitzgeralds or Geraldines of Kildare and South Munster. Of these the De Burghs soon gave up the hopeless task of maintaining English influence in the remote West. They abandoned the English dress, language and habits, and became as Irish as the tribes around them.

The Geraldines followed the example, though not to the same extent, but the Butlers retained their old allegiance, if only to be in opposition to the hated rival house. The contentions of the Geraldine earls of Desmond and the Butler earls of Ormond were fully as bitter and bloody as the contemporary Wars of the Roses in England.

Edward III. saw the growing evil, and tried to suppress it by sending over strong viceroys. The overpowerful Geraldines were flung into gaol, but their great influence over the people was at once exerted to create endless difficulties for the new ruler. Either he retired of his own accord, a baffled and thwarted man, or intrigues at the English Court procured the liberty of the Desmonds and the reversal of all the viceroy’s actions. Raoul d’Ufford, one of the most resolute of these emissaries, died at Dublin Castle amid such demonstrations of popular hatred that his widow had to smuggle her husband’s corpse away by a back gate, lest it should be insulted.

The King next tried the expedient of sending a prince of the blood to rule Ireland. His son, Lionel of Clarence, was three times Lord Lieutenant. His stay was only remarkable for the celebrated Statute of Kilkenny, a desperate and futile attempt to stop the Hibernicising process, which was daily turning English colonists into Irish enemies. Marriage, intimacy, or even commerce with the natives was high treason and punishable by death. Forfeiture and imprisonment were the penalties for using the Irish dress, language or customs, or even for adopting an Irish name.

The Statute of Kilkenny was disregarded almost from the very date of its passing. So far from avoiding all intercourse with the Irish, the council at Dublin were forced to bribe the chiefs whom they could not conquer. Art MacMurrough, a descendant of the Dermot of the same name, who invited Strongbow to invade Ireland, claimed his ancestral kingdom of Leinster and devastated the colony, until the authorities bought him off with a “black rent” of 80 marks a year.

A Munster chief, named O’Brien, was in annual receipt of one hundred marks. On one occasion his pension fell into arrears, and he marched on Dublin to collect his dues. There were but nine marks in the treasury, so that the required amount had to be raised by subscription among the leading citizens. The prior of Kilmainham gave 16 marks, others gave valuable horses, one man even contributed his bed, worth 30 shillings.

At this period the public spirit of the Dubliners was very creditable. John Colton, Dean of S. Patrick’s, is said to have pawned all his goods to raise troops to go to the assistance of a castle in Wicklow. Another time he relieved Athy. His talents, like those of Richelieu, seeming to befit better the service of the State than of the Church. He was raised to the viceroyalty in the year 1381.

The cathedral, which he left, had now nearly assumed its present form. It had been rebuilt by Dean Minot, after it had suffered a good deal from accidental fires and the raids of Edward Bruce’s partisans. The lofty tower, which stands at the north-west corner, was the work of this great builder. As it left his hands it was a gracefully-proportioned, square, flat-roofed tower, of the kind so familiar in English cathedrals and colleges. In the 18th century a pointed steeple was superposed on this structure, adding something to its size and dignity, but nothing to its beauty.

The burghers of Dublin were rewarded for their faithful loyalty by being allowed to levy tolls on merchandise entering the city, the proceeds to go towards paving the streets and maintaining the walls in good repair. It was at this time, probably, that the chief thoroughfares were first covered with the close-set, rounded cobble stones, which still survive in some places.

In 1385** **the old bridge, the sole link between the banks of the Liffey, collapsed, so that the citizens for some years had to depend on ferries.

The anarchy in Ireland soon forced itself on the attention of Richard II. Art MacMurrough, who has been already mentioned, was proving a very thorn in the side of the Leinster English. He had married a lady of the Geraldine family, a daughter of Maurice, Earl of Kildare, and was exasperated to find that the authorities sequestered her dowry, alleging that she had infringed the Statute of Kilkenny by marrying an Irishman. Furthermore, his “black rent” was not punctually or regularly paid.

Richard at first gave the troublesome kingdom to his favourite, De Vere, to conquer, conferring on him the high titles of Marquis of Dublin and Duke of Ireland. The powers of the new ruler far exceeded those of a mere viceroy. He was to issue writs in his own name, coin money, use his own great seal, appoint all the great officers of state, and substitute his own ensigns for the English royal standard.

It was a foolish and dangerous experiment, which, happily for both countries, was never carried into effect. De Vere was driven into exile by the English nobles before he had time to make good his semi-regal position. Had he been a man of sufficient ability to establish himself firmly in his province, Ireland would have been an independent monarchy within 10 years.

In 1394** **King Richard came to settle the affairs of the kingdom in person. He landed at Waterford with an army of 34,000 men, and marched northwards through MacMurrough’s country towards Dublin. In Henry II.’s time an expedition of one-tenth the size would have overawed the Irish. But the natives were now too used to mailed soldiers to be easily dismayed.

They hung on Richard’s rear and flanks, cut off stragglers, made unexpected onslaughts when the long train of baggage animals and their heavy-armed escorts were jammed in a mountain pass or floundering in a wooded swamp; in short, they practised to perfection the guerrilla warfare, which was specially suited both to the country itself and the light armament and nimble habits of its defenders. The English lost heavily on their way to the capital.

Richard, like his predecessors, celebrated Christmas in Dublin with great splendour, and adopted a more conciliatory policy with the Irish chieftains. It proved quite successful. The dread Art MacMurrough did homage to the King and voted allegiance, on condition of receiving his wife’s dowry and his annual pension. The great O’Neill, king of the unconquered north, followed the example.

Finally the seal was set to Richard’s diplomatic triumphs by a great ceremony in Christ Church Cathedral, where O’Neill of Ulster, MacMurrough of Leinster, O’Brien of Munster, and O’Connor of Connaught-the four leading native princes of Ireland-were knighted by the King himself.

The improvement was not lasting, however. No sooner had Richard returned to England than the country was once more in utter confusion. Roger Mortimer, his cousin, whom he had left behind as viceroy, was killed in battle by the retainers of some of the chiefs, who had sworn obedience. The King returned in great wrath to avenge young Mortimer and punish MacMurrough, who was still the head and front of the Irish resistance.

Forgetting the lessons of his previous campaign, Richard was incautious enough to follow his foe into the Wicklow mountains. The English were soon entangled in the defiles, and, after suffering severely, only saved themselves by a retreat to the coast. Here they found the advantages of sea power. Some English ships laden with provisions succoured the starving army, which was enabled to fall back along the shore by Wicklow and Bray to Dublin.

The Irish were still on their left flank and rear, and harassed the retreat. On the King’s arrival he laid a price of 100** **gold marks on MacMurrough’s head, and dispatched three expeditions against him. While thus engaged in breaking the power of an enemy, he little thought that he himself was but a broken man. Henry of Lancaster, afterwards Henry IV., had landed in England, and Richard’s adherents were melting away like the snow under the noonday sun. The unfortunate monarch returned from his disastrous Irish adventure only to suffer a public deposition in Westminster Hall, and to die under the dagger of Exton at Pontefract.

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