Insurrectionary movement at Cork.
Refusal to proclaim King James.
Tardy submission
The mere approach of Mountjoy was enough to overawe Cashel, Clonmel, and the other inland towns. Limerick was bridled by the castle, and the disorders there did not come to much. But at Cork things took a much more serious turn. When leaving Ireland Carew had left his presidential authority in the hands of Commissioners, of whom Sir Charles Wilmot was the chief. The corporation of Cork now declared that the Commissioners’ authority ceased on the demise of the Crown, and that they were sovereign within their own liberties. Captain Robert Morgan arrived at Cork on April 11 with a copy of the proclamation and orders for the Commissioners from Mountjoy. Wilmot was in Kerry stamping out the embers of Lord Fitzmaurice’s insurrection, and Sir George Thornton, who was next in rank, called upon the civic authorities to proclaim King James. Thomas Sarsfield was mayor, and he might have obeyed but for the advice of William Meade, the recorder, who defied Thornton to exercise any authority within the city, reminding him that too great alacrity in proclaiming Perkin Warbeck had brought great evils upon the kingdom. Being rebuked by Boyle for breaking out into violent language, he replied that there were thousands ready to break out. Power was claimed under the charter to delay for some days, and Meade sent a messenger to Waterford for information as though the Lord Deputy’s letters were unworthy of credit. Captain Morgan vainly urged that he had himself been present when Ormonde, the most cautious of men, had proclaimed the King at Carrick-on-Suir. Thornton and the other Commissioners, including Chief Justice Walsh and Saxey the provincial Chief Justice, were kept walking about in the streets while the corporation wasted time, and at last they were told that no answer could be given until next day. The mayor and recorder protested their loyalty, but pretended among other things that time was necessary to enable them to make due preparation. In vain did Thornton and his legal advisers insist on the danger of delay, and upon the absurdity of Cork refusing to do what London and Dublin had done instantly. Meade would listen to nothing; and one clear day having elapsed since Morgan’s arrival, Thornton went with his colleagues and about 800 persons to the top of a hill outside the town, where he solemnly proclaimed King James. Lord Roche was present, and the country folk seemed quite satisfied. The mayor soon followed suit at the market cross. The ceremonial of which the corporation had made so much was only the drinking of a hogshead of wine by the people, and no doubt that was a function which the citizens were always ready to perform at the shortest notice.[8]
Cork in possession of the Recusants.
Mass was now openly celebrated, the churches reconsecrated in the recorder’s presence, and the Ten Commandments in the cathedral scraped out so as to make some old pictures visible. The town was full of priests and friars, one of whom claimed legatine authority, and ‘they had the cross carried like a standard before them throughout the streets,’ every one being forced to reverence it. It was openly preached that James was no perfect king until he had been confirmed by the Pope, and that the Infanta’s title was in any case better. Gradually these tumultuary proceedings ripened into open insurrection, and 200 young men in two companies were ordered to be armed and maintained by the citizens. It was indeed proposed to arm the whole population from twelve to twenty-four years, but there was not time for this. Lieutenant Christopher Murrough, who had served the League in France, was active during the whole disturbance. The mayor, who vacillated between expressions of loyalty and acts of disrespect to the new sovereign, had evidently the idea of a free city in his head, and said he was ‘like the slavish Duke of Venice and could not rule the multitude.’[9]
A street procession.
‘I myself,’ says an eye-witness, ‘saw in Cork on Good Friday a procession wherein priests and friars came out of Christ’s Church with the mayor and aldermen, and best of citizens going along the streets from gate to gate all singing, and about forty young men counterfeiting to whip themselves. I must needs say counterfeiting because I saw them (although bare-footed and bare-legged), yet their breeches and doublets were upon them, and over that again fair white sheets, everyone having a counterfeit whip in his hand—I say a counterfeit whip because they are made of little white sticks, everyone having four or five strings of soft white leather neither twisted nor knotted—and always as their chief priest ended some verses which he sung in Latin these counterfeits would answer miserere mei, and therewith lay about their shoulders, sides, and backs with those counterfeit whips; but I never saw one drop of blood drawn, therefore their superstition is far worse than the Spaniards’, who do use such whipping upon their bare skin, that the blood doth follow in abundance, which they do in a blind zeal, and yet it is far better than those counterfeits did.’[10]
The citizens arm themselves,
And bombard Shandon.
Cork was then a walled town, but being commanded by high ground can never have been strong. Outside the south gate and bridge and not far from where the Passage railway station now stands Carew had begun to build a fort with the double object of overawing the town and of intercepting a foreign enemy. After the battle of Kinsale the work had been discontinued, and no guns were mounted. The north gate was commanded by Shandon Castle, which was in safe hands. The east and west sides of the city were bounded by the river, which ran among marshy islands. The approach from the open sea was partly protected by a fort on Haulbowline Island, at the point where the Lee begins finally to widen out into the great harbour, and the seditious citizens had visions of destroying this stronghold, which the recorder pronounced useless and hurtful to the corporation. Inside the town and near the north gate was an old tower known as Skiddy’s Castle, used as a magazine for ammunition and provisions. The citizens refused to allow stores to be carried out to the soldiers and at the same time obliged them to remain outside. One alleged grievance was that two guns belonging to the corporation were detained at Haulbowline, and Thornton against Boyle’s advice exchanged them for two in the town which belonged to the King. Lieutenant Murrough was placed in charge of Skiddy’s Castle, every Englishman’s house was searched for powder, ‘a priest being forward in each of these several searches,’ and the inmates expected a general massacre. Sir George Thornton left the town, Lady Carew took refuge in Shandon, and Lord Thomond’s company was sent for. Wilmot arrived with his men when the disturbances had lasted for more than a week, but the townsmen would not listen to reason, and began to demolish Carew’s unfinished fort. The recorder admitted that he had instigated this act of violence. Wilmot took forcible possession of the work, but forbade firing into the town on pain of death. The inhabitants then broke out into open war, sent round shot through the Bishop’s palace where the Commissioners lodged, and killed a clergyman who was walking past. They severely cannonaded Shandon, but, as Lady Carew reported, ‘never did any harm to wall or creature