By Paul Devlin

 

On Saint Patrick’s Day, 1607, the rightful Earl of Tyrone, the ‘Clandyboy O’Neill’ and forty or so of his kinsmen cautiously approached the Devil’s Bridge at the Gottuard Pass in the French Alps, along with the O’Neill the younger Chieftain, Rory O’Donnell, Earl of Tyrconnell.

The month of March that year was bitterly cold for the approaching party. The Gottuard Pass was treacherous and covered in thick snow which had fallen on slabs of ice.
Hugh O’Neill was seated in a wagon pulled by oxen. The pace was slow and arduous. The alarm was raised when one of the Earl’s pack horses lost its footing on the ice and stumbled over the steep escarpment.
Saddlebags filled with O’Neill’s gold coinage spilled out through the leather fastenings and fell into the Schollenen Gorge.

The Earl, enraged, called to his men and between makeshift pullys the pack horse was saved.
Brave men tried in vain to ascend into the Gorge but the ropes were not long enough. Hugh O’Neill was devastated. After the humiliation of defeat and losing his lands to the Crown, the gold now lost in the Schollenen Gorge was his last chance to raise another army from King Philip 111 of Spain.

The ‘O’Neill’ had planned to return to Ireland in a large fleet of Spanish ships and take back from the King what was rightfully his.

The Clandyboy O’Neill could trace his ancestry back to the time of Niall, High King of Ireland, who died bravely in battle welding a sword against an army of Vikings in 919AD.
Gazing into the gorge, O’Neill must have felt deflated; he may have escaped certain death in lreland but the possibility of assembling another army now looked as bleak as the bluffs and crags of the Schollenen Gorge.
Once a great favourite of Queen Elizabeth I and a popular guest at the Royal Palace, powerful jealous English nobles were infuriated at the warmth and affection the Queen showed him. Not only this, but this “consummate liar” could make the Queen joyous.
Sir John Harrington was outraged at O’Neill’s mischievous behaviour in the presence of Her Majesty.
The Royal table, however, at Hampton Court, had high regard for this lovable Irish rogue.

As a youth, Hugh had been brought up by an English nobleman and taken into the care of Queen’s Viceroy, Sir Henry Sidney.
As a sporting youth Hugh could fence and wrestle with all comers. With his charming personality he recited poetry at the Queen’s feet and minstrel romantic renditions of Greensleeves to the blushes of demure ladies in waiting.

Now Elizabeth was dead and newly crowned King James was on the throne. Despite his fondness for Hugh, the King was convinced by Lord Deputy of Ireland Arthur Chichester that O’Neill was treacherous and would always be an ‘Irish Rebel’ at heart.

Crown forces had long plotted to assassinate him.

After the defeat of the Spanish and Irish armies at Kinsale, O’Neill took refuge in the dense forests of Glenconkeyne and Killetra.
From these vantage points he attacked Crown Forces in subsequent raiding sorties. Eventually another truce was signed at Mellifont.
The conditions were stark for the Chieftan. He would have to swear allegiance to the Crown, and abandon his Irish titles. The Brehon Laws, which he lived by, were to be abolished and he had to be subservient to the newly formed Protestant religion.

In return O’Neill could maintain his lands but he had no intention of honouring any of the Crown’s conditions at Mellifont.
He was playing for more time.

When Chichester was informed about O’Neill’s rebellious behaviour he roared in anger for O’Neill’s head.
A plot was hatched to ensnare O’Neill to Dublin Castle to answer accusations made against him by a former kinsman. Commander Henry Docwra, stationed at Lough Foyle, was given charge to see he made no escape from Derry’s port.

Again O’Neill outwitted the Crown, leaving lreland’s shore for the last time from Rathmullan, in County Donegal, with the help of O’Donnell.

The story of Hugh O’Neill and the Irish Earls leaving Ireland is a sad one. He escaped with his life, but only just. After his bid for freedom the Crown authorities made haste trafficking wagon loads of settlers to populate his lands. The Crown was also quick at obliterating his name and legacy from the pages of Ulster’s history books.
But staring into the deep ravine on that St. Patrick’s morning in 1607 all was not lost. The gold, yes, it spilled out and is still out there in the Schollenen George, but for the rest l am not so sure.
In Northern lreland today we see a direct descendant of the Great Chieftan sitting in high office as our First Minister. n