Kinsale was lost and the English were triumphant in the South; Red Hugh O'Donnell was fled to Spain and there had died; and in the autumn of 1607 there faced the intrepid chieftains of Tyrone and Tyrconnell the prospect of sure defeat. There was nothing left to them but flight--a flight that has gone down in history as the Flight of the Earls.

But, when the plans were made, and the ship which was to bear the last of Ireland's greatest fighters and provincial kings across the water lay ready in the harbour of Lough Swilly, Bridget, daughter of Henry, Earl of Kildare, and wife of the Tyrconnell, was near the time of her confinement and could not travel. And so it was arranged that she should wait until the troubles which were brewing on the Irish horizon had cleared away, and then make her way secretly to the Continent, there to be reunited with her husband.

The Countess O'Donnell was not a woman to bear separation easily, and shortly after her husband had sailed from Lough Swilly she attempted to leave the country by way of Dublin, and there she was intercepted by the authorities. They had her watched, and in a few weeks had her conducted to London where her baby daughter was born and baptized as Mary.

News of the event was conveyed to King James I who was struck with compassion for the helpless offspring of an expatriated Irish chieftain. Accordingly, he commanded that the infant be brought into his presence and invested her with the name of his royal line--Mary Stewart instead of Mary O'Donnell. On her mother he fixed a pension of 300 pounds a year out of her husband's forfeited estates. Thus began the story of an Irish girl who was to reject the highest honours of the country of her adoption for the shelter of the cloister of her own faith.

Tyrconnell did not last long in banishment and passed away in the shadow of Rome. His widow, long since a favourite at the Court of England, could not be comforted, and by prayer, and intercession with the King himself, she secured permission to withdraw from England and spend her sorrow amongst the hills and glens of her native land. Here for twelve years she lived in retirement, her sole care the forming of her daughter's character.

The little Mary learned much of the history of her illustrious father who had once been monarch of these glens in which she walked; she learned much of the fight with England; and she learned the tenets of the old Irish Catholic faith.

She was sweet in innocence and rich in beauty when she, with her mother, was recalled to the Court of James. She moved amongst the cream of England's nobility and won the hearts of all.

Many were the offers of marriage which came to her in these her adolescent years, but every one was quickly rejected. At length there came one which had the recommendation of the Dowager Countess of Kildare, and was pressed by the King who promised a marriage portion regal in its munificence.

In every way the match was desirable, but in the mind of the young girl there was one insurmountable obstacle -- her suitor was a Protestant. Quietly and respectfully she declined the offer; a "mixed marriage" was false to her cherished religion and an insult to her father's memory.

Despite cajolery, importunity, and royal threats she remained adamant, but often in the anguish of her heart she would cry, "Had I not better run away from this temptation of the world's splendour than be unfaithful to holy Church, and dishonour the traditions of my noble race?"

It was in the midst of this distress that news was brought to her that Constantine O'Donnell and Hugh O'Rorke, kinsmen of herself and her mother, were lodged in the Tower following the rebellion of O'Doherty, and were awaiting certain death unless she, by her influence at Court, could secure their pardon. Without counting the cost she undertook one of the most dangerous tasks of her day, and succeeded. But if she did, suspicion grew so grave against her that one of her most powerful friends trembled for her head. In a stolen interview he told her that her only salvation lay in falling in with the King's wishes and marrying the man of his choice, or in flight. She chose flight.

And so a few nights later three horses were posted in a quiet London suburb where the fugitives presented themselves after midnight, in male attire, as Mr. Randolph Huntley and Mr. James Hill (a faithful friend of the fleeing girl), and their maid who posed as Richard Shalsi, a valet. They fled to Bristol and there boarded a vessel for the French coast.

From Paris to Brussels they experienced no difficulty, and in the latter place Mary O'Donnell was presented by a new-found kinsman to Infanta Isabella who governed the Low Countries for Spain. Here she retired to the cloister.

The story of her experiences was told across Europe. Even to the Roman Pontiff, Urban VIII, came word of this strange girl, and the greatest day of her life came when this same Pontiff sent her a congratulatory message in his own hand and bearing the seal of the Fisherman's Ring.

She was the last lineal descendant of the O'Donnell.

The End

Note: The above was written by my father in 1935, in the style of the time for young persons. Mary O'Donnell, aka Mary Stewart, and her story were historical fact.
John Ward