then!-Beara would be swept of the hated foe, and their loved Dunboy -again would 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'Donnel 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 any where in the sacred cause of fatherland, they would not put up theirs. They gave 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 realize 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-two 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 preeminently stamped the enterprise as almost without precedent. For four hundred men, under such circumstances, to cut their way from Glengariffe to Lietrim, 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 Donald 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 befal, not to abandon even the humblest or the weakest amongst them. While he had a sword to draw, he 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 charge of his devoted fosterbrother, 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 Glengarriffe 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. L.—THE RETREAT TO LEITRIM; THE MOST ROMANTIC AND GALLANT ACHIEVEMENT OF THE AGE." N the last day of December, 1602, was commenced this memorable retreat, which every writer or commentator, whether of that period or of our own, civil or military, English or Irish, has concurred in characterizing as scarcely to be paralleled in history.* Tyrrell and other of the confederates had drawn off some time previously, when sauve qui peut evidently became the maxim with the despair-stricken band; so that O'Sullivan's force when setting out from Glengarriffe consisted exactly of four hundred fighting men, and about six hundred non-combatants, women, children, aged and infirm people, and servants. Even in our own day, and in time of peace, with full facilities of transport and supply, the commissariat arrangements necessary to be made beforehand along the route of such a body-a thousand souls-would require some skill and organization. But O'Sullivan could on no day tell where or how his people were to find sustenance for the morrow. He had money enough,‡ it is true, to purchase supplies; but no one durst sell them to him, or permit him to take them. Word was sent through the country by the lord president for all, on peril of being treated as O'Sullivan's covert or open abettors, to fall upon him, to cross his road, to bar his way, to watch him at the fords to come upon him by night; and, above all, to drive off or destroy all cattle or other possible means of sustenance, so, "We read of nothing more like to the expedition of Cyrus and the Ten Thousand Greeks, than this retreat of O'Sullivan Beare."-Abbé Mac Geoghegan. One of the most extraordinary retreats recorded in history."-Haverty. 66 "A retreat almost unparalleled."-M'Gee. "The most romantic and gallant achievement of the age."-Davis. Historia Catholica Hiberniæ, Haverty, M'Gee, Mac Geoghegan. Even on the last day of his terrible retreat, we find him able to pay a guide very liberally in gold pieces. that of sheer necessity his party must perish on the way. Whose lands soever O'Sullivan would be found to have passed through unresisted, or whereupon he was allowed to find food of any kind, the government would consider forfeited. Such were the circumstances under which the Lord of Beara and his immortal Four Hundred set out on their mid-winter retreat on the 31st December, 1602. That evening, Don Philip tells us, they reached and encamped at "a place on the borders of Muskerry, called by the natives Acharis." * Next day, 1st January, 1603, they reached "before noon," "Balebrunia" (Ballyvourny), famed as the retreat of St. Gubeneta, whose ruined church and penitential stations are still frequented by pious pilgrims. Here O'Sullivan and his entire force halted, that they might begin their journey by offering all their sufferings to God, and supplicating the powerful prayers of His saint. Donal and several members of his family made gifts to the altar, and the little army, having prayed for some time, resumed their weary march. The ordeal commenced for them soon. They were assailed and harassed all the way "by the sons of Thadeus Mac Carthy," several being wounded on both sides. They cleared their road, however, and that night encamped in "O'Kimbhi" (O'Keefe's country: Duhallow); "but," says Philip, “they had little rest at night after such a toilsome day, for they were constantly molested by the people of that place, and suffered most painfully from hunger. For they had been able to bring with them but one day's provisions and these they had consumed on the first day's march." Next morning they pushed forward towards the confines of Limerick, designing to reach that ancient refuge of the oppressed and vanquished, the historic Glen of Aherlow, where at least they *I am not aware that any one hitherto has identified this spot; but it is, nevertheless, plainly to be found. The place is the junction of some mountain roads, in a truly wild and solitary locality, about a mile north of the present village of Bealnageary, which is between Gougane Barra and Macroom. In a little grove the ruined church of Agharis (marked on the Ordnance maps) identifies the for us locality of "Acharis.' It is on the road to Ballyvourney by O'Sullivan's route, which was from Glengarriffe eastward by his castle of the Fawn's Rock (“ Carrick-an-Asa"), where he left a ward; thence through the Pass of the Deer ("Ceam-an-eih") northward to Agharis. hoped for rest in safety during a few days' halt, but their path now lay through the midst of their foes-right between the garrisons of Charleville and Buttevant, and they scarcely hoped to cross the river in their front without a heavy penalty. And truly enough, as the faint and weary cavalcade reached the bank, a strong force under the brother of Viscount Barry encountered them at Bellaghy Ford. The women and children were at once put to the rear, and the hunger-wasted company, nevertheless, all unflinching, came up to the conflict like horses. It was a bitter fight, but despair gave energy to that desperate fugitive band. They literally swept their foes before them, and would not have suffered a man to escape them had not hunger and terrible privation. told upon them too severely to allow of a pursuit. Dr. Joyce chronicles this combat for us in one of his ballads: We stood so steady, All under fire, To vent our ire— To dash on the Saxon, And lay him low In the bloody mire! 'T was by Blackwater, When snows were white, 'T was by Blackwater, But we'd win the fight. Their bullets came whistling Upon our rank, Their bullets came whistling Their bay'nets were bristling On th' other bank. Yet we stood steady, Ere the morn did fade At their life-blood drank. |