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THE

IRISH NATION:

ITS HISTORY

AND

ITS BIOGRAPHY.

BY

JAMES WILLS, D.D.,

AND

FREEMAN WILLS, M.A

VOLUME II..

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A. FULLARTON & CO.,

LONDON AND EDINBURGH.

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■» * • •

CONTENTS OF

VOL. II.

Pace

Page

Historical Introduction, . 3-

-54

21.

Sir Robert Stewart,

359

22.

Robert Stewart, of Irry,

363

POLITICAL SEMES.

23.

Richard Butler, third Viscount

1.

Eoger Moore or O'More,

54

Mountgarret, .

363

2.

Sir Phelim O'Neile, .

70

24.

Patrick, ninth Lord Dunsany,

371

3.

Sir Charles Coote,

83

25.

Letitia, Baroness Ophaly

375

4.

Miles Bourke, Viscount Mayo,

90

26

Randal Macdonell, Earl of An-

5.

Owen O'Neile,

100

trim, ....

379

27.

A. Forbes, Earl of Grauard,

383

THE BOYLES.

28.

Richard Talbot, Earl of Tyr-

6.

Richard Boyle, First Earl of

connel, ....

391

Cork, ....

129

29.

Rev. George Walker, Governor

7.

Roger, Earl of Orrery, .

136

30.

of Londonderry,
Gustavus Hamilton, Viscount

424

THE DE BURGOS.

Boyne, ....

447

8.

Richard, Fourth Earl of Clanri-

31.

Patrick Sarsfield,

456

carde, ....

154

32.

Colonel Richard Grace,

469

9.

Ulick, Fifth Earl of Clanricarde,

155

33.

Teague O'Regan,

470

34.

Baldearg O'Donell,

472

THE BUTLERS.

35.

Henry Luttrell, .

475

10.

James, Duke of Ormonde,

,58

11.

Thomas Butler, Earl of Ossory,

307

12.

James, Second Duke of Or-

ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES.

monde, ....

313

Introductory Remarks, .

478

13.

Sir William St. Leger,

329

36.

Heber Macmahon,

479

37.

James Margetson, Primate, .

482

THE O'BRIENS.

38.

James Usher, Primate of Ire-

14.

Murrough, Baron Inchiquin,

331

land, ....

486

15.

Murrough O'Brien, Earl Inchi-

39.

William Bedell, .

537

quin, ....

332

40.

Johu Bramhal, Primate of Ire-

16.

AVilliam, Second Earl of Inchi-

land, ....

554

quin, ....

336

41.

John Leslie, Bishop of Clogher,

567

17.

Sir Philip Perceval,

337

42.

Jeremy Taylor, Bishop of Down

18.

Theobald Taafe, Earl of Carling-

and Connor,

569

ford, . .

343

43.

Francis Marsh, Archbishop of
Dublin, ....

606

THE CHICHESTERS.

44.

Narcissus Marsh, Archbishop of

19.

Sir Arthur Chichester,

347

Dublin, ....

607

20.

Arthur Chichester, First Earl of

45.

Anthony Dopping, Bishop of

Donegal,

349

Meath, ....

613

J"

IV

CONTENTS.

Page

46. William King, Archbishop of

Dublin, . . . .615

47. Rev. John Richardson, . 638

48. Charles Leslie, Chancellor of

Connor, . . . .640

49. Francis Kirwan, Roman Catho-

lic Bishop of Killala, . 648

50. John Lynch, Roman Catholic,

Archdeacon of Tuam, . 655

LITERARY SERIES.

51. Michael Cleary, . . .659

52. JohnColgan, . . .660

53. Geoffrey Keating, . . 660

54.
55.
56.

57.
58.

60.
61.
62.
63.
64.

Hon. Robert Boyle,

Valentine Greatrakes,

Wentworth Dillon, Earl of Ros-
common, .

Henry Dodwell, .

Sir William Brounker, Viscount
Castlelyons,

William Molyneux,

Sir Richard Cox,

George Farquhar,

Nahum Tate,

Robert, Viscount Molesworth

Thomas Southern,

Page
661
680

686

688

689
690
704
722
725
726
728

HISTOEICAL INTRODUCTION

TO

TRANSITION PERIOD.

THE

IRISH NATION. .

TRANSITION.

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION.

CHAPTER I.

Retrospect — Early Religion not that of Rome — State of Ireland in the previous Period
— Anglo-Norman Conquest— Reign of Mary — Elizabeth.

To obtain a just insight into the social or political history of Ireland,
during the period on which we must now enter, it will be necessary to
recall from the past some general conditions which have still, through
all our periods, had a main influence to govern, or chiefly shape the
course of events. The consideration is the more essential, as most of
the seeming difficulties and misrepresentations which have obscured our
history, have their source in opposite views on those fundamental ele-
ments— the social condition and early religion of the native Irish.

For the first of these main considerations, we have to observe, that
even so late as the 17th century, there existed in Ireland no class, to
which, in any modern sense, the term " people " could be intelligibly
applied. There was no constitutional structure of civil government —
or social order between the lord and the serf. The common people
were slaves to chiefs, with few exceptions, little less savage than them-
selves. As such a statement must seem to many inconsistent with the
traditional exaggerations of the annalist or the bard, it may be useful
to recall the truth, even as it becomes transparent through the very sur-
face of the tradition itself. And it will also be clearly apparent, that
the boasted learning of the early Hibernian saints and doctors, was
wholly confined to those learned individuals themselves ; and, in no
way indicates the state of the people, rich or poor. They were teachers
without a school — speculative disputants in religion or philosophy,
travelling to learn or teach. The chiefs and the people had other ob-
jects to attend to ; the incessant and murderous contentions of the
petty toparchs who robbed each other, and trampled on their " heredi-
tary bondsmen." The frequent invasions from the Dane or Norwegian,
invited by such a state of things, ever tended to repress the first germs
of civilization, and drive the arts and muses from the shore.

One high and pure civilizing influence found its way — impeded and
II. A Ir.

TRANSITION.

finally interrupted by the same causes — an imperfectly planted Chris-
tian church ; neutralized by the popular ignorance and nearly primitive
absence of moral or social culture. The early, and, it is said, aposto-
lical teaching of Christianity, notwithstanding these impediments, like
sunrise on the hilltops, cast its illumination, to a more than partial ex-
tent, among the superior classes, and there soon began a rich spread of
moral and doctrinal intelligence, strangely contrasted with the general
condition of the people and with the rude simplicity of the age. In a
few generations the doctors and disputants of the " Isle of Saints" were
heard in foreign schools, and the earlier heresies and disputes of the
first Christian churches were earnestly discussed among the mountains
of Kerry, or the rocky isles of the western shore. And for many cen-
turies, while heresies of all forms and grades of degeneracy were accu-
mulating in Christian churches, the saints and bishops of Ireland, with
small exception, adhered to their first unadulterated faith. Of these
contests, and of the earlier disciples and doctors whose names they
rendered memorable in high tradition, we have given several full
notices in a former stage of our history. Two centuries later we trace
the slow beginning of a considerable change. It was then .that the
great metropolitan city of the west, having in the revolution£;of con-
tinental Europe gathered influence, began to claim supremacy over the
nations. As a natural consequence the emissaries and monks of the
church began to be mixed among the Irish; a result more natural,
as they had as yet not departed widely from the common standard
of faith. We only mention this as accounting for the confusion ol
some more recent antiquarian writers on the ancient church of the
country.

It was after the Anglo-Norman invasion, and late in the 12th cen-
tury, that Henry II. conceived the policy of availing himself of the
powerful alliance of the Pope. He had speculated on the defenceless
condition of the country, and through his chaplain opened a negotiation
with Pope Adrian, in whicli he ursred the fitness of reducing Ireland
to Romish jurisdiction, and offered his own services for that laudable
end. Adrian gladly closed with the welcome proposal. His power in
Ireland was yet unacknowledged; the people had latterly given doubt-
ful and wavering signs of acknowledgment. Much had still been
gained since 1152. when Eugenius III. had sent over Cardinal Papirius,
who introduced several canons of the Roman See, and established
generally a communion with Rome. Henry undertook to reduce the
nominal to a real and canonical subjection, and to secure a tribute for
the Pope. In return, he was rewarded with the gift of the island, by
virtue of a power latterly assumed by the Pope to dispose of kingdoms.

During the period to which we have thus looked back, it cannot be
truly said that there existed many of the social or political incidents
which indicate progress towards the civil institutions of law, govern-
ment, or commerce of modern ages. The most decided steps in ad-
vance may be traced in connection with the invaders from Denmark
and Norway, whose settlement in both of the British isles brought in
many elements of civilization. Their general influence is however
more decidedly to be found marked in early English antiquity. After
their first reduction, in the reign of O'Melachlin, they were again

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION

allowed to land and settle peaceably under Sitric, under many pro-
fessions of friendly conduct and commercial benefit to the nation.
They were permitted to gain possession of the chief cities — Waterford,
Limerick, and Dublin. They soon recovered strength, and kept
the country in successive outbreaks of war and predatory excursion
through the greater part of the ninth century, to the famous battle of
Clontarf, when they were finally defeated with great slaughter by
Brian Baromhe. We have already given the main details of these
events, they are here thus cursorily adverted to as among the few inci-
dents which contributed to the state of Ireland as it existed at the
commencement and during the first reigns of the period of the history
of which we must now offer the main events. The most important of
the cities, and, generally, the elements of civic or corporate organiza-
tion obtained form and construction in the outset from the habits and
commercial genius of that adventurous race. Their occupation was
nevertheless too transient to have communicated any impulse to the
nation, but that which it did not want, their spirit of outrage and
plunder. The Irish people were during that period little in condition
to H.H? ve improvement, or the Danish settler in condition to impart it.
We have to notice the events of a much later period. Events, which
may not be characterized as prosperous, nor to be contemplated with
humane satisfaction, yet, in which the earlier indications of genuine
progress and the civilized future-^— long after to be approached, become
slowly and painfully traceable. It is to be still felt through every
reign of the Anglo-Norman kings, through the period of one imme-
diate division, that we are still engaged in following the deeds and for-
tunes of an unreclaimed people, which we might perhaps describe as
rather fallen than raised from their pristine condition; and this we
should affirm with less reserve, could we rely on the poetic and legen-
dary relation of the bardic annalists of their primitive heroic ages.

The succession of events chiefly occupying the memoirs of our latter
period display no advance in the general condition; some political
changes were such as to materially aggravate the disorders we have
noted. Nor can we present any very redeeming incident but one,
itself the result of the most awful calamities which can befall a nation
— rebellions, massacres, and judgments, forfeitures and exiles, — the re-
sults, to a remote posterity, from early causes, which had long continued
to operate. The constitution of the country, if the term may be so
applied, abounded with irreconcilable conditions, and, as it stood, was
incapable of being transformed into any polity susceptible of improve-
ment, unless by changes too comprehensive to be effected without op-
position, offence, and hence fatal malversation and abuse. The Irish
natives, though among the earliest civilized races of Europe, had from
many causes hung back in the twilight ot antiquity, till, in the course
of human progress, their antique customs had become barbarism, re-
taining on its wild features somewhat of the " hairbreadth sentimental
trace" of the Caledonian muse, without the refinement. Rude and
tierce, and torn into tactions by the continual dissensions of their pettv
kings, they long continued to degenerate, — warping for many genera-
tions further from the pale of progress. Erom the first inroads of
Danish invasion, their condition was sinking into dilapidation, giving

TRANSITION.

birth to ruins and round towers. And when, after the Anglo-Norman
invasion, it became a question how their fallen position could be re-
trieved,— how it might be reduced into a portion of the modern imper-
fectly civilized world, and raised from a condition abject for themselves,
dangerous for England, of being a mere landing-place for enemies, an
approach for foreign intrigue, — it soon became too apparent that one
course alone was practically effective. It was one full of difficulties and
objectionable consequences, not to be adopted without leaving behind a
surviving enmity of the worst kind, — the enmity of races. The dispo-
sition of property, the laws of inheritance, the distribution of power,
the civil jurisdiction, with the prejudices and customs of every class,
were, as they stood, unfavourable to regular government, common as
they were to peace or constitutional freedom. There was nowhere
power to remedy these evils by peaceful means. The nation, half
conquered, had been left to flounder on like a wounded bird that could
neither fly nor walk, escape nor resist. It was full of conflicting ele-
ments: two races were hostile to each other — two laws clashed — two
powers strove for mastery — two religions cursed each other; — ills par-
tially, and but partially, redressed by the only remedies which could
be found applicable, yet which no less tended to perpetuate than to
assuage them.

During this period there cannot be traced the regular form or work-
ing of any civil constitution, beyond the imperfect administration of
criminal law and financial imposition by the legislative council, after-
wards to occupy so important a position in Irish history, and so largely
modify the national condition and the train of events. From the seve-
ral occasional and incidental allusions to this essential estate of free
government, it is not easy to fix the period of its institution, its earliest
privileges and constitution. We meet it first very much in the form of
a council of ecclesiastics and other persons having rank and authority,
assembled to consult on local or at most provincial interests. Under
successive monarchs, from the reign of Henry, its constitution was by
slow degrees improved, both in authority and the composition of mem-
bers. These were long the persons of noble rank, summoned by the
king or by his lieutenant for some special occasion; — there was not, and,
properly speaking, could not have been, a House of borough represen-
tation. For long no boroughs existed, until created by successive
kings of the Norman descent. The first House of Commons seems to
have been in 1613. Of its after history we shall have much occasion
to speak more fully. We may here best observe that for the whole of
this period, from Elizabeth to Anne, the Irish parliament possessed little
power to influence the course of events. It became a matter of discre
tion or favour long before it was of right, to call in the council or ob-
tain the sanction of the nobles for the laws which were projected by
the government, or (by Poyning's Law,) transmitted to the council in
England. The law was loosely worded, and one convenient evasion
followed another, and abuses rose which were the business of further
enactments and declarations to correct or aggravate. At times the
balance of encroachment preponderated for the nobles, sometimes for
the Crown, and latterly for the Commons, according to the varying
changes in the successive reigns, from Henry VIII. to Charles II. The

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION.

declaratory act of Philip and Mary is to be regarded as having fixed
the sense of the law, and given to the parliament that form which it
afterwards held. The Irish parliament began in disorder and confusion,
not unprophetic of its future and of its end. The government continued,
from the commencement of this period, in the formal possession of lieuten-
ants or deputies of the crown, but mostly with little authority beyond the
metropolitan district, or what they could assert by military force. The
country, until this time, yet remained in the same condition as before
the Anglo-Norman invasion, and with many nominal institutional
changes was virtually the same. The population, as of old, consisted
of lords and serfs. There was no people, in the vulgar sense of the
term; neither commerce, nor arts, nor manufactures, nor even agricul-
ture existed. The land was a forest and a morass. The petty kings
— as they chose to be ranked — amused themselves with the chase, or
with the costlier game of war and civil intrigue and circumvention ;
until discord and mutual strife at last brought in the Anglo-Norman.
Thus was originated the first step of what might have come to be the
dawn of civil progress, but (not to say, that the conquerors themselves
were yet but little beyond the first rudiments) the elements of bar-
barism had somewhat of a constitutional growth in the country. In-
veterate prejudices traditionally rooted, and, as it were, crystallized
into laws, were favourable to the usurpations of the new, as well as of
the ancient lords, and adapted to the manners and customs of both ;
and combined with a territorial distribution which converted the whole
land into a hunting-field, prevented all those wholesome influences of
property, and useful occupations of the soil on which, primarily, the
social advantage of a people must depend : the country was divided
rather into kingdoms and lordships, than farms and pastures. The rule
of force was the law. The acquisition of a fortified house was a title
to rob, and to lord it over the neighbouring district with its inhabitants,
who looked to the owner for protection, espoused his quarrels, and
joined his marauding excursions.

The long succession of feudal contentions, forfeitures, appropriations,
and settlements, of wars, and transfers of lordship, which constitute
the history of the following four centuries, belong to the period already
past, and may be referred to the memoirs contained in our former
volume. They are here but adverted to, as descriptive of the state of
things from which we must next proceed. In quitting the subject, a
few reflections may be allowed. We have approached the history of a
state of things from which, if suffered to continue, there could follow
no recovery. " History's muse," as the spirit of the Irish historian
has, with inadvertent satire, been termed by the poet of Ireland, has
adorned the "blotted" page with bright dreams of heroic achievement
and patriotic suffering. The colours of the rainbow have been lavished
to glorify the monuments of those dark ages of crime and mutual
wrong. The chronicler and the bard too frequently have supplied
matter for the rant of Irish eloquence, by ignoring the protracted lapse
of ages, which separate the "glories of Brian the Brave" from the
black betrayal of friendly trust and domestic sanctity in Charlemont
fort. It grieves us to touch these dark recollections ; but our main
object is, so far as we may, to restore the balance of reality. On

TRANSITION.

every side there has been matter enough for reproach ; but the fancy
of the poet, and the eloquence of the rhetorician, have ever found their
most ready material on the side of popular malcontent. The gait and
countenance of freedom, independence and liberty, are most easily as-
sumed to the vulgar eye, by the swaggering of democratic insolence,
by lawless insubordination, and renunciation of principle. The people
whose wrongs are trumpeted abroad in all the keys of brazen exagger-
ation, were in those heroic days on a level with beasts of pasture as to
freedom, and not much above them in moral nature. The rule of
force, " the good old plan," was the universal law, the right, was the
power to take and the power to keep.

During the long period marked by these characters, there existed
no orderly or normal constitution. Calm and disturbance, tyranny
and resistance, rebellions against authority, sanguinary feuds among
chiefs, and popular excitements, all on an increasing scale, variously
shifted like clouds on a stormy day. Virtually there was no govern-
ment : in the dominant kingdom, disorder of too frequent recurrence,
and too violent, left long intervals of license to corrupt authority and
to nurture disaffection. There existed no care for the development of
internal resources. Agriculture was discouraged by the despotic chief
for the preservation of the beast of chase; nor was the tenure of land
favourable to improvement. It was the ancient maxim of the chiefs to
keep the " hereditary bondsman " in the state best adapted to the
savage submission of their class — subservient to the mandate of robberv
and mutual aggression. The astute priesthood saw the security of
their growing influence, in the exclusion of all moral or intellectual
advance, whether in lord or serf. Over all these was growing un-
perceived by any party or class, the skilfully ordered influence of an
alien jurisdiction, and a secretly advancing cause. We may now pass
on to the consideration of those circumstances which mainly contri-
buted to alter, if not materially to advance, this torn and trampled
nation from its dead level of poverty and depression.

Ages might pass, and leave it still in the same condition of serf
bondage and aristocratic tyranny. The first great step towards im-
provement was yet unthought of, when an event of a different nature
had begun to diffuse a saving and exalting light, which, while it
brought in a dawn of freedom and prosperity to England, unhappily
carried bitterness and controversial rancour, to give new force and
impulse to the national discontents of Ireland. This was the Re-
formation.

The nation first, by a combination of fraud and dominant power
deprived of its more ancient and truer faith, was next, with better
intention, but not more lawful means, constrained into unwilling sub-
jection to a renewal of the old creed under a newly framed constitu-
tion. In the 15th century, the apostolical faith of the old Irish church
was long forgotten, and the heresies of middle-age superstition possessed
the people, and were radically combined with their iiabits, discontents,
and animosities.

To estimate more justly the true effects of this and other causes,
which aggravated and protracted the state of things heretofore described,
we must proceed to notice the more active and energetic measures

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION.

afterwards adopted for the improvement of the country, and for the
correction of its main abuses.

During the reign of Henry VIII., the reformation obtained, amid
much resistance, some advance in Ireland ; this was, however, counter-
acted in the next reign ; the superstitious Mary, governed by the
Spanish counsels and influence of her husband, and wholly devoted to
the interests of the Papal See; though under considerable difficulties
from the discontents of the English aristocracy and better classes of
her subjects; was not deterred from adopting the inquisitorial proceed-
ings of her husband's church and country ; and the persecution com-
menced in England was readily extended into Ireland. In 1556, there
was published a Bull of Pope Paul IV., complaining of the separation
of Ireland from his See, and asserting the readiness of the people to
return.* The Protestant prelates were violently driven from their
Sees, which were filled with Romish ecclesiastics. The primatial
authority, committed to Bishop Dowdal, was wielded with more than
the harshness of his bigoted mistress.

Meanwhile, the perpetual disorders of the country were much in-
creasing. Great commotion was fast growing violent, in the Queen's
county and King's county ,f on account of the occupation of new settlers
on the lands. In consequence, great numbers were slain, and but for the
humane and truly patriotic intercession with the Queen, of the Earls of
Ormonde and Kildare, these counties would have been depopulated.

On the accession of Queen Elizabeth, steps were taken to restore the
church in Ireland to its condition in the preceding reigns. But the
hostility of Rome, and the active enmity of its creatures and zealous
supporters in the country, were more than proportionally augmented.
The brutal chief of Tyrone, encouraged by many escapes, by much im-
punity, by the devotion of his rabble followers, and by the injudicious
efforts of the government at conciliation, increased in pride, and in en-
croachments on his brother chiefs. In 1562, he came to a resolution to
visit the Queen in great state, and appeared in London in barbaric pomp,
at the head of a grotesque train of his northern savages. He was re-
ceived with politic favour, and allowed to plead his rights and complain
of his wrongs, and was dismissed with assurances of favour. On his
return, he pursued his former turbulent course, but under the cautious
pretext of resisting the Queen's enemies. His pretended loyalty was
felt by Sydney to be as formidable as his hostility. He was, however,

* This Pope quarrelled with Henry II. of France for slightly relaxing the persecution
of his Protestant subjects. Ranke, in his history of the Popes, traces very clearly the
strong Protestant reactions in Germany and other parts of Europe, caused by the ex-
cessive violence of this Pope. In the beginning of her reign, Elizabeth is supposed to
have had some leaning to Romanism. She caused her accession to be notified to Paul.
He scornfully told the English ambassador that " she must first submit her claims to
his judgment." It is even not obscurely apparent that, if England had not been pro-
videntially leavened with a strong infusion of scriptural truth, from a period long
antecedent, the conduct of this Pope had secured the victory of Protestantism in Eng-
land. And the same observation may, in nearly similar terms, be extended through
many parts of Europe, from the same period and causes. Paul's most favoured instrument
was the Inquisition, which he revived. His tyranny was nearly driving the people of
Rome into revolt. On his death their hatred was freely indulged by many excesses,
among which was the mutilation of his statue, which was dragged through the streets of

Rome,
t Anciently Leix and Offally.

soon encouraged to cast aside pretences, by the occurrence of a
destructive explosion of the powder magazine in Derry, which passed
for a miracle on the gross superstition of the time, and was ascribed
to the vengeance of Saint Columkille on the intruders upon his abode.
Tyrone at once raised his standard in the north, and proclaimed his
defiance. Once more he plunged the northern provinces into disorder
and ruin ; he burned the church of Armagh, razed many castles, and
sent out his emissaries to engage the aid and alliance of the chiefs of
Munster and Connaught. Sydney assailed him with not dissimilar
policy ; he was aware that O'Neal's ferocity and arrogance, with his
savage severity towards his followers, had alienated their temper, and
led to desertion and hatred. O'Neal's forces ebbed away from around
him, and he presently found himself alone and a fugitive. It is need-
less to describe the treacherous artifice by which he was slain in a
brawl with many of his followers, by a hostile chief whose ancestor
he had slain. His attainder, which soon followed, left nearly the whole
province of Ulster in the possession of Queen Elizabeth.

Many salutary laws were at this time enacted ; much was done to
restore* the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of the crown ; the province of
Connaught was divided into six counties; but still the late condition of
disquiet was far from its end. The Queen was excommunicated by Pius
V. 1572, who damned all who should acknowledge her. Fresh com-
motions followed, and it must have been very strongly apparent at the
time, that there could be no reliable security for the peace of the king-
dom, while an alien jurisdiction, with the policy and interests of the Pope,
could at any moment exercise a sway so absolute over an ignorant and
excitable people. The present commotions were quieted in the south
by Perrot, and effectively resisted by the citizens of Kilkenny, and by
the influence of Ormonde, though his brother, with others of the Butlers,
seem to have been rather inadvertently betrayed into the designs
of those who were ill-affected towards the government. We have in
the preceding volume already related the main incidents and fate of
the principal chiefs and leaders of these commotions, and notice them
in this place, only to preserve the historical connection of our memoirs.
The discontents of chiefs, and of their family connections, under the
deprivation of their estates, along with the more secret unremitting
hostility of papal emissaries, may be said to have perpetuated disorder
as the normal condition of the period ; nor can the continual recurrences
of insurrection and forced calm be conveniently followed out in their
monotonous details, unless in very voluminous order.

The period of which we write is memorable for the active hostility
of Philip II. against Queen Elizabeth. Irritated by her protection and
countenance to the persecuted Protestants in the Netherlands, this
cruel bigot equipped an expedition against Ireland, and a landing was
effected in Kerry, at the Bay of Smerwick, from three ships, in which
he sent 80 Spaniards, with James Fitz Maurice, and a disorderly band
of fugitives from both England and Ireland. This little company was
joined by the brothers of the Earl of Desmond. An English ship of
war putting out from Kinsale, seized their ships, and thus cut off their
retreat by sea. The Earl of Desmond attempted to collect his followers
under pretext of aiding the government, and summoning the Earl of

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION.

Clancarty to aid ; he was, however, disappointed to find Clancarty quite
ready to join in the cause so pretended, and shammed out of his feigned
proposal by vexatious objections to every arrangement.

Within nearly the same period, perhaps about 1572, the Earl of
Essex proposed to plant the Ulster district of Clandeboy with English
settlers. He was to possess half the tract so planted, and the land was
to be fortified and garrisoned at the joint cost of the queen and earl.
The scheme seems to have been well organized ; but as it was frustrated
by the subsequent misfortunes of that ill-fated nobleman, who mort-
gaged his estate to promote it, we shall not waste our space by
its further notice. There could be little sane doubt that the ultimate
prospect of Irish civilization was to depend upon the eventual success
of such a measure. But Sir William Fitz William, who had been
latterly commissioned in place of Sydney, fearing the evils which he
foresaw from the rashness and presumptuous interferences of Essex,
remonstrated strongly, representing the occasion as premature, in the
unsettled state of the country. Essex, baffled in repeated efforts to
prosecute his sanguine undertaking — at last worn out by frequent permis-
sions and retractations — retired in anger and disgust to England, where
he soon came to his well-known tragic end. Passing the long tissue
of confused and stormy changes of two years, during which the various
turns of disquiet and calm went on in similar succession, we revert to
the Spanish invaders.

They had landed in the confident persuasion of a rising in mass, of the
south to join them, but found themselves in a state of isolation. Fitz-
Maurice was dead. Their retreat was cut off by six ships of war ; the
Queen's forces were in course of collecting against them. They had
recourse to the guidance of Desmond, and left the town of Smerwick.
They were distributed through Kerry, and entertained by Desmond's
followers. The Pope, by a Bull, committed his authority to Desmond,
and published indulgences for all who should join him. The rebels
increased rapidly in confidence and numbers. After gaining some ad-
vantages by surprising small detachments which had exposed them-
selves too rashly into their secret haunts, they were at last confronted
by a small force under the command of Sir Nicholas Malby. The
English amounted to 900 foot, with 150 horse. The rebels, to about
2,000. They had the papal standard, and one Allen, an Irish Jesuit,
actively busied among their ranks to assure them of victory. They
were routed with great slaughter, and among the dead was found the
body of Allen. Malby received a letter of congratulation from the Earl
of Desmond ; but, on the body of Allen, several papers were found, by
which his complicity in the rebellion was made clear. His congratula-
tions were answered by severe rebuke and exhortation to return to Ins
allegiance. The advice was unheeded.

Desmond escaped for the present, by the removal of Malby from his
post. For the rest, we must refer to his life. We cannot, however, afford
to follow the tangled thread of his perverse and infatuated course to
its tragic end.

The unhappy result of Grey's appointment with a commission to end
this miserable rebellion by decided measures, in entire ignorance
of the country, and with wholly insufficient force and means, may be

10 TRANSITION.

despatched in a few words. The O'Bymes had taken an unassailable
position in the Wicklow mountains, whence tliey issued their defiance
against the Queen's government. Grey, in his ignorant indignation,
issued a peremptory order to his officers to march with their troops,
and drive the rebels from their hold. The officers and their men were
aware of the rashness of the attempt, but, not unlike the heroes of a
later occasion, undismayed by inevitable destruction, they came through
a marsh into a labyrinth of rocks difficult to surmount, and scrambled
with broken order in the face of an invisible enemy. In this laborious
and confused scramble they were met by a shower of bullets, volley
upon volley, without the power of resistance or retreat. Among the
slain the most distinguished officers fell ; and Lord Grey was compelled
to recall the remnant of his force, without even an attack, and return
to Dublin in shame and dismay.

Tins mortifying incident was followed by a fresh alarm from the
south. Philip yet retained his inveterate purpose. It was fully known
that he was bent on vengeance against the Queen, and that an expedi-
tion was in course of preparation to effect a second and more formi-
dable landing in Ireland. Admiral Winter was stationed on the coast
of Kerry ; but being ill provisioned, and meeting dangerous weather,
was forced to return to refit and obtain the needful supplies. During
his absence, a force of 700 Spaniards, with a large body of Italians,
were safely landed at Smerwick, with arms and ammunition for a still
larger force of Irish, and a sum of money to be delivered to Desmond.
Ormonde marched against them. On his first approach they took re-
fuge in the woods, but soon discovering the weakness of his hastily
collected force, they resumed their first position. Ormonde drew off
his scanty force, and awaited at Rathkeal for the promised junction of
the Lord Deputy. Lord Grey presently made his appearance with
800 men, and Winter's fleet at the same time regained its station. The
fort was thus invested by land and sea ; and the enemy was summoned
to surrender. The answer is worth full record. They were, they said,
sent by the Pope and the king of Spain to extirpate heresy, and re-
duce the country to the obedience of Philip, whom the Pope had in-
vested with the lawful sovereignty. At the same time they attempted
a sally, but were driven back.

Next night, Winter landed and completed a strong battery with
the artillery from his ships, seconded by Lord Grey's arrangements on
the other side. The garrison was summoned again at dawn, but they did
not apprehend their danger; and repeated their bold refusal. A fierce
cannonade followed, and they soon perceived the error of their expecta-
tions. The Irish whom they trusted, failed to come to their aid, and
the Spanish officers in command became sensible of the necessity of an
endeavour to gain terms. But Grey insisted on a surrender at dis-
cretion, and no alternative remained. The page of history is stained
with the event ; the Italian leader, with some officers, were made
prisoners of war. The rebels were adjudged to death, and a company
commanded by Sir Walter Raleigh was marched into the fort, to exe-
cute the fearful sentence. It was said in extenuation that this could
not be avoided ; and on full consideration, the difficulty must be ap-
prehended. The prisoners were too numerous for any means of dis

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 11

posal, and the army threatened to mutiny if restrained from spoil. The
judgment of a deliberate court-martial could not have been wholly de-
cided by demoniac revenge, nor without apparent grounds of necessity.
The Deputy wept at the sentence ; and the Queen expressed her
strong displeasure. The report was industriously improved by the
Romish agents and emissaries. Humanity must shudder in the relation
of deeds, however they may be vindicated by necessity, or palliated by
strict justice, or paralleled by the similar or worse atrocities of the
party, the people, or the authority which would presume to judge. But
we must forbear.

To enter upon the incessant risings, at this period disturbing the
peace and repressing the efforts of improvement, would be to extend
our preface into a volume. North, south, east, and west, echoed each
other with the din of malcontent, of rising, suppression, and resistance.
De Burghs and Kildares, names now associated with the high respect
of civilized times, were formidable to the ear of peaceful industry and
quiet government. The rumour of insurrection was often rendered
awful in the apprehension of the peaceful hearer on either side, by the
whispers of a root and branch extirpation apprehended by either party.
The Sicilian vespers, or the bloody vigil of St. Bartholomew, could not
fail to cast their red reflection over those nations, which Irish patriot*
assume to have felt horror and detestation at the cruel deeds of
Smerwick, and the unsanctioned execution of military law on obstinate
rebellion and unprovoked invasion.

At the same period, the tragic end of the last Earl of Desmond
seemed to offer a fit occasion to secure many fair provisions for the
peaceful improvement of a large district long kept back by his tur-
bulent occupation. But many obstacles intervened : — the Queen's
economy, the reluctance of many influential noblemen, and the pre-
judices of the English parliament, then, as ever, grossly ignorant of
Irish interests.

We are compelled by our limits to omit many incidents which should
be treated according to their local importance in the history of this
reign. Great improvements in the condition of the people, in the
administration of the laws, and in the settlement of lands, were, in
the few years remaining of Queen Elizabeth's reign, effected by the
wisdom and activity of Perrot and his immediate successor ; and, at
the same time, neutralized by the feuds and intrigues of chiefs, and
the constant irritation of the inferior classes, kept alive by the under-
working arts of the papal emissaries, which permitted no beneficent
law or wholesome social process to have its effect. The most auspicious
event of Elizabeth's reign was the foundation of the university of
Dublin, long to be obscured by the vapours of sedition and the storms
of petty insurrection which filled the age, but destined to endure
through many gloomy changes, to be the light of better days, and to
gradually impart the dawn of moral and intellectual day to future
generations ; unless that cycle of darkness, to which the social state of
man seems limited, shall bring back the age of periodic disruption,
which seems to menace the latter days of the 19th century. It was
the harbinger of Ireland's civilization — of the day of Grattan, Burke,
Plunket, and Bushe, and their immortal compeers, the giants of their day.

1 2 TRANSITION.

This establishment was, we believe, first formally proposed in the
parliament of 1559, and successively taken up by Sydney and Perrot
Loftus, archbishop of Dublin, opposed to the scheme of these eminent
men, proposed and matured the plan ultimately adopted. The mon-
astery of Allhallows, erected by Dermod MaeMurrogh in the neigh-
bourhood of Dublin, was chosen by the Prelate. The site had been
vested in the mayor and citizens of Dublin, who, on the Archbishop's
urgent application, granted it freely. The Queen accorded her royal
charter, which passed the seals 29th December 1591. For the rest we
may refer to the authority of the University Calendar.

We have slightly passed the incidents of this troubled period; the
wars of Tyrone, in which some successes gained by the rebels, led to a
great increase of violence and popular excitement, and proportional
discouragement of the royalists. The Queen, evidently reluctant to
waste men and money on these interminable broils, protracted the
reign of bloodshed and hate, by withholding the only resources neces-
sary for its termination. The last event of Elizabeth's reign — which
we shall for a moment delay to notice — was the invasion from Spain
under Don Juan. When Lord Mountjoy was governor of Ireland, the
rumour of a Spanish descent was gaining ground, to the terror of
the peaceful settlers, and the encouragement of the rebel chiefs. The
king of Spain was still inveterate in his thirst for vengeance against the
queen for her aid to the Netherlands. He is blamed by historians for
having been tardy in the execution of his design. Had he availed
himself of the recent successes of the rebel leaders, the distress of the
country would have been extreme, and many secret enemies of the
government would have declared themselves. It was also said that the
expedition was unskilfully timed and directed. It took place in Sep-
tember 1601. A part of the Spanish squadron was driven into
Baltimore by stress of weather, but the main fleet entered Kinsale
without resistance. The feeble garrison retired. Messengers were
despatched to Tyrone and O'Donnel, on whose invitation the Spanish
force had been sent, to urge their speedy presence ; and the Romish
monks were everywhere on the alert among the people, with splendid
promises and strong denunciations against the government of the
lieretical and excommunicated queen. The Munster people, at this
time, were anxiously inclined for peace, and many of the chiefs wraited
upon the Deputy to assure him of their fidelity to the Queen's govern-
ment. It has been alleged that the Irish leaders were so much re-
pelled by the proud deportment and offensive coldness of Don Juan,
that they very generally drew back, and left him to the consequence.
The Spanish commander, who came flushed with the sense of high
command, and expected to find the kingdom under his hand, found
himself shut within the walls of a small town, besieged by the English
and deserted by his professing allies. The siege was, however, in-
terrupted by intelligence of the approach of the northern chiefs with
considerable forces. The English army was therefore divided to
meet them, but without immediate success. The rebel troops melted
away before Carew's march, and disappeared among the woods and
morasses, so that after a fruitless and fatiguing march he had' to
return to Kinsale. Fresh reinforcements from England and from the

Pale soon came up, and Admiral Leviston with ten thousand soldiers
and military stores, and 3,000 more with the Earl of Thomond,
considerably strengthened the President. The siege was carried on
slowly, but without interruption from the Spaniards, whose sorties
were all repulsed. When summoned, they answered that they held the
town for Christ and the king of Spain ; and sent a challenge to single
combat from Don Juan to the President,

While matters were thus protracted, the Irish leaders standing aloof
from their Spanish allies thus at disadvantage, circumstances occurred
to give a new impulse to their flagging courage. A fresh arrival of
six Spanish transports reached Castlehaven, and landed 2,000 men,
with military stores to a large amount, and announced six more ships
to follow. Tyrone and O'Donnel immediately joined this reinforce-
ment, and the assurance of certain victory spread through all the Septs,
so lately lavish of loyal profession. All the south were eager to be
foremost, and put such forts as they possessed in the hands of their
imagined deliverers. Don Juan garrisoned those places, and gave re-
wards and commissions to his patriotic friends. The situation of the
English appeared now sensibly reversed ; they were in a state of siege.
Don Juan pressed his Irish allies to attack them. Tyrone justly saw
the risk, and urged the wiser and safer expedient of leaving them to
the infallible effect of the cold and famine, from which they wrere
beginning to suffer. Don Juan, in his romantic infatuation, would not
listen to this prudent counsel, but peremptorily insisted on the ad-
vance of Tyrone ; the Irish chief thus pressed, advanced. He was met
by the Lord Deputy with a comparative handful of men, while the
walls were watched by the President with the main force of the army.
As the English detachment approached, the people of Tyrone turned
and fled. They were rallied, and offered some ineffectual resistance
to their pursuers ; but the cavalry which covered their hasty retreat
being charged by the Earl of Clanricarde and by Wingfield, were dis-
persed, and increased the confusion by their flight. A third body made
a feeble resistance and followed the same example. The Spanish party
from Castlehaven, which had accompanied the march of Tyrone, fought
bravely and met their fate on the field ; those who escaped the sword
were made prisoners. O'Donnel's force in the rear retired without a
blow ; 1,200 were slain, and 800 wounded. The English lost one
officer, and a few soldiers wounded. The leaders on both sides were
equally astonished at such a victory and such a defeat.

The Spanish general's mistake, in urging this attack by a rabble of
undisciplined men upon a trained and regular force, was followed by
another, which may have aggravated the disappointment felt at so un-
expected a result. The English on their return to the coast fired guns
in celebration of their victory. Don Juan mistook the incident, and
marched out to welcome his victorious friends. His astonished sight
was met by the Spanish ensigns waving in hostile hands. He could
not believe that Tyrone's populous array could have been honestly
beaten by so small a force, and suspected treachery on the part of the
Irish chiefs. In his rage, he sought a parley, and proposed to treat on
honourable terms for the surrender of the town. We may not here
enter on the details of this parley ; they came to a conclusion, by the

14 TRANSITION.

terms of which, the Spaniard delivered up the towns and forts of which
the Irish had put him into possession. In this, Don Juan manifested
a high sense of chivalric spirit ; when the fort of Berehaven was to be
summoned, O'Sullivan, who had given it up to the Spaniards, disarmed
the garrison, and prepared to defend the place. Don Juan offered his
aid to Carew for its recovery ; this was, however, refused. Carew pro-
ceeded to bring up his forces by sea and besieged the fort. Having
stormed the upper part, there was still an obstinate struggle maintained
in the lower chambers, and the captain of the garrison being mortally
wounded, attempted to blow up the fort. This desperate act was pre-
vented, the fort was surrendered, and demolished by the English.

Peace was far from being attained. The promise of Spanish invasion
was still continued, and the expectation kept alive and propagated
through the priests and other papal emissaries. A wide-spreading and
deadly strife was maintained by the parties on either side. The vin-
dictive temper of private animosity became awakened and diffused ;
the thunder of excommunication added its share of theological rancour ;
and mutual aggravation laid up a treasured hate for the next genera-
tion. They who fell into rebel hands were butchered as enemies to
the Pope ; the rebel was hanged. Nor was there a pause in this re-
ciprocity of bloodshed, till, in the course of the protracted struggle, the
leaders of the rebellion had been slain or reduced to submission, and a
cessation of all but silent hate followed for a season.

We here pass the intervening details of the contemporaneous contest
of the Deputy with the two great northern chiefs — Tyrone and
O'Donnel — who saw their necessity of submission from an increasing
inability to resist, and the growing weakness of their party. It may
be enough to say, that their submission was received.

CH AFTER II.
James I. — Charles I. — Cromwell — Charles II. — Accession of James II.

The death of Elizabeth in 1603 opened an order of events, in some
important respects new. The period was one of present tranquillity.
The contest of sovereignty was settled ; while the land yet lay under
the desolation of the deadly tempests of war which had swept over it
in continued succession for so lengthened a period. But it was still a
nation without a government, or in any proper sense a constitution;
a people without law or trade, or any but the rudest elements of social
existence, dragged on in despite of fierce resistance in the wake of the
dominant nation, on which it was thereafter to depend for progress.

The spirit of rebellion was, for the time, subdued ; but the forbear-
ance from military repression, and power of martial terror, caused the
development of an arrogant temper of resistance and contumacious
pretension. . Though rebellion did not venture to appear in arms, it
was not less free of tongue, or persistent in all safe opposition. The
citizens of Waterford boldly refused to open their gates to Mountjoy :

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 15

and Doctor White, accompanied by a Dominican friar, visited his lord-
ship's tent, to prove from Augustine, that a king opposed to the Romish
faith could not be obeyed. Mountjoy listened with courtesy, and hav-
ing the book in his tent, showed that it was falsely quoted by the Doctor.
He then apprised the refractory citizens, who (more sensibly) pleaded
a charter of King John, that he held the sword of King James, with
which he would " cut the charter of King John to pieces ; that he
would level their city with the ground, and strew it with salt." This
threat saved the historic immunity of the maiden city, clearly proving
the advantage of valour tempered by discretion. The gates were thrown
open, allegiance to King James sworn, and a strong garrison stationed.
Other chief cities followed the instructive example; Cashel, Clonmel,
Limerick, and Cork, all complied, and received garrisons in turn. An
act of oblivion and indemnity was published by proclamation, under
the great seal, to quiet the fear of the many who must have felt them-
selves yet within the suspicion of the government. This humane and
wise precaution was the winding up of Mountjoy's administration in
Ireland.

Many salutary laws were passed, and useful arrangements adopted,
on which we will not now enter — as the beneficial results were soon to be
reversed, and counteracted in no distant time by succeeding events —
after which the same sanative policy may be more fully traced in these
pages.

The important event of the ensuing reign, was the plantation of
Ulster, which may be considered as the second great step in the real
advance of Ireland, from the Anglo-Norman settlement under Henry.
At the period to which our summary has arrived, the real condition of
the people was virtually not more advanced than in the days of Mac-
Murrogh. The nominal possessor of large districts, whether of Celtic
or Norman race, possessed the same barbarous notions of feudal power
and territoral occupation which were held in the 10th or 11th century.
The laws of person and property, the administration of justice and the
customs of the people, were on the same ancient level, out of which
neither theory nor historic precedent offers any probable course of re-
gular advance. The first Anglo-Norman settlement, reduced to its
genuine results, was not so much an advance as a step upon that level,
from which, in the course of ages, the path was to be gained ; one bar-
barian race was linked to another ; but that other, somewhat less
stationary, was destined in time to draw it slowly forward. The re-
tarding forces we have fully noticed ; how long they were to operate is
undecided still. In the earlier years of the 17th century the land was
comparatively worthless to occupant or lord. If we except the counties
of the Pale, there was little cultivation ; beyond this limit there lay a
waste of forest and morass, affording scanty pasture for meagre flocks.
At the accession of James, the population was less than one-thirteenth of
the mean returns of our time. The measure of a Plantation had presented
itself to the common sense of the former generation, and had been
undertaken and partially executed in several instances under Queen
Elizabeth ; but an important condition was wanting. New blood, new
life, customs, and habits, were what was wanting, and were to be now
supplied by the Scottish experience and the larger economy of King

16 TRANSITION.

James ; a monarch less remembered for considerable intellectual en-
dowments, than for the moral and personal incapacities by which they
were largely neutralized. We would be far from rejecting the stric-
tures of those who have sketched his manners and character somewhat
grotesquely ; but it is our impression that, although the features are
not untruly drawn, the likeness has been imperfectly caught. Scott,
in one of those unrivalled master pieces which must forever leave longo
intervallo behind all competition in moral portraiture, or in reanimating
the life of other days, has painted the pedant king with his usual force
and freedom of hand. But the outward expression does not always
reveal the spirit within. The most observable features of character in
ordinary deportment, or in personal conduct, are not intellectual so
much as moral ; he who in cell or cabinet may be profound and subtle
to combine and generalize or discern, may go forth a fool and a simple-
ton, impulsive, rash, and blundering into the walk of everyday life.
For though reason, experience, and normal rules govern the study,
men act from habit, motive, feeling, and routine. The greatest mathe-
matician of our time was found to show a remarkable incapacity for
official business. The case is somewhat different; but King James was
very much what Sully has described, " the wisest fool in Christendom;"
or in the more elaborate description of Scott, " deeply learned without
possessing useful knowledge ; sagacious in many cases without having
real wisdom ; fond of his power, and desirous to retain and augment
it, yet willing to resign the direction of that power and of himself to
the most unworthy favourites ; a big and bold asserter of his rights in
words, yet one who tamely saw them trampled on in deeds ; a lover of
negotiations, in which he was always outwitted ; and a fearer of war
when conquest might have been easy. He was fond of his dignity,
while he was perpetually degrading it by low familiarities; capable of
much public labour, yet often neglecting it for the lowest amusements;
a wit, though a pedant; and a scholar, though fond of the conversation
of the ignorant and uneducated. Even his timidity of temper was not
uniform, and there were moments of his life when he showed the spirit
of his ancestors. He was laborious in trifles, and a trifler when serious
labour was required." We have been tempted beyond our purpose to
continue this somewhat over-laboured and antithetic character of a
monarch to whom Ireland is indebted for the first step of her national
regeneration.

Many circumstances prepared the way for this great act of paternal
policy. The forfeitures already mentioned, which gave him the dis-
posal of half a million of acres without leaving cause for just complaint ;
the popular expectation felt from a monarch in whom the ancient
line of Milesius was thought to be restored; he was also the son of a
mother who was regarded as a martyr for the Church of Rome. His
first step was the essential preliminary to the construction of a social
state, having its foundation in the security of rights. The Irish cus-
toms of tanistry and gavelkind were cancelled by judgment in the
King's Bench, and these rude laws abolished. The law courts were
organized, and thecircuits established in Munster, Connaught, and Ulster.
The distribution of property was preceded by the provision for its
security. Existing rights were to be settled and ascertained, and com-

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 17

missions were accordingly issued to ascertain and secure the rightful
possessor. They who held their estate by tanistry were invited to
surrender and receive possession by letters patent, and thus acquire
permanent possession for themselves and their natural heirs. And the
consequence was a general surrender on these advantageous terms. A
similar arrangement was entered into for the cities, respecting their
corporate possessions.

The larger forfeitures had place in Ulster, where the lands, long
neglected, were at this time reduced to desolation ; the sword had co-
operated with famine to depopulate a wide extent of territory.

The king laid down a well-devised plan, of which the execution was
mainly intrusted to Sir Arthur Chichester. The lands were divided
into portions of 2,000, 1,500, and 1,000 acres, to be allotted with suit-
able conditions to their respective classes of grantees according to their
rank. They were bound to build, cultivate, and sublet, upon certain fixed
terms. The first class were to build a castle and a strong courtyard
enclosing it, within four years, and to keep 600 acres in demesne ; to
settle four fee farmers, having each 120 acres. They were obliged to
have 48 able-bodied men of English or Scottish descent on the estates.
The others were bound by similar conditions according to their respec-
tive grants. The several tenures were also fixed: The first class to
hold of the king in capite ; the second by knight service, and the third
in common soccage. They were all bound to five years' residence, or
to have agents appointed by government. It was also enacted, that
none of these grantees should alienate his lands without a royal license,
set at uncertain rents, or for terms less than three lives or 21 years.

The merit of this effective scheme is mainly due to Sir Arthur
Chichester, grandson by his mother to Sir William Courtenay of Powder-
ham Castle in Devonshire, thus deriving his lineage from Charlemagne.
He became early somewhat notorious for a youthful frolic, more in
keeping with the manners of his time than reconcilable to modern
notions ; the Queen's purveyors, the instruments of despotic exaction,
were objects of popular hatred, and, like the bailiffs of sixty years ago
in our western counties, regarded as fair game for mischief by country
gentlemen ; it was thought by the young student to be no bad joke
to follow the example of Prince Hal, and ease the licensed spoiler of
his plunder. The exploit was discovered, and, as the joke was con-
sidered as no laughing matter by Elizabeth, who was to suffer the loss;
Chichester was for a time compelled to seek refuge in Prance. There
he was taken into favour with Henry IV., by whom he was knighted.
His reputation reached the ear of Queen Elizabeth, who with her known
inclination to promote rising talent, was thus induced to recall him and
pardon the youthful indiscretion.

After some years of military service, he was sent into Ireland, where
he soon distinguished himself in the war against the Earl of Tyrone ;
and was among the most able officers under Mountjoy. He was soon
appointed Lord Deputy of Ireland ; he signalized his government by
renewing the circuits, and establishing justice and order throughout
the country.

Many projects for the plantation of Ulster had, at King James'
desire, been submitted for his inspection ; that of Chichester was

H. B Ir.

18 TRANSITION.

chosen, and the details were carried through by his active zeal and
ability.

There is a remarkable passage in a letter to Chichester from the
king, which is worth extracting for its description of the country and
the time. " Hibernise, post Britanniam omnium insularum occidentalium,
maxima? et amplissimae et pulcherrimse, cceli et soli felicitate et
fecunditate afluentis et insignis, sed nihilominus per multa jam secula
perpetuis seditionum et rebellionum fiuctibus jactata ; necnon super-
stitioni et barbaris moribus, presertim in provincia Ultonum, adicta?
et immersse."

Cliichester continued in the government for ten years till 1613, and
took a principal part in the troubles which we shall presently have to
notice.

The native Irish who received lands under this settlement, were
exempted from most of the conditions imposed on the English ; while
these were compelled to people their lands with a British tenantry,
the Irish grantee was allowed to let to natives ; an arrangement in
some measure detrimental, but not in fairness to be avoided. The
Irish were also exempted from building castles, or fortified places, or
from arming their tenantry ; an exemption of which the policy is ob-
vious. They were, however, restrained from the barbarous customs
till then incidental to Irish proprietors and their tenants. They were
obliged to set their lands for certain rents, and for certain terms of
years ; all denominations of Irish dependency and exaction were pro-
hibited. English methods of cultivation were imposed, and the custom
of wandering with their cattle from place to place for pasture forbidden.
They were also enjoined to dwell together in villages like the English
tenantry. Under these conditions, the lands disposable in Ulster were
distributed among one hundred and four English and Scotch, and two
hundred and eighty-six native undertakers, who all covenanted and
agreed by their bonds to perform all these conditions.

It had been experienced in the former plantation under Elizabeth,
that great evils, amounting, in fact, to the failure of all the objects of the
measure, had resulted from the intermixture of the English and natives.
The Irish, who were naturally reluctant to give up their own ways of
cultivation and management of property, did not thrive in the same
rapid course as their British neighbours, and became discontented, dis-
orderly, and insubordinate to the settled jurisdiction. The British, on
their part, rather looking to their immediate personal advantage or
disadvantage, than upon the ultimate policy of the Settlement, soon
found attractions, as well as irregular advantages, in falling into the
less constrained and less orderly habits of their neighbours. If honest
industry becomes insecure, and is defrauded of its direct and immediate
objects, the commencement of demoralization is not long retarded in
any stage of social advance. It was at this time determined to prevent
the recurrence of these disadvantages by separating the two races. We
are far from approving of the abstract policy of such an expedient ; but
considering all circumstances, it was necessary to immediate success,
though less reconcilable to longer views : but all measures of govern-
ments must needs be adapted to the time that is present. The attempt
to legislate for the future is the most dangerous of all kinds of quackery,

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 19

and for beyond the bounded range of human intellect. The soundest
measure is only beneficial according to the steadiness and honesty with
which its operation is carried out : it was the defect of the policy of
the Irish government of that period that it was never to be thoroughly
carried out in its details.

The Irish undertakers were, much to their own advantage, located
on the plains, and on situations of easy access ; their allotment was thus
the most fertile for agriculture. The British, on the contrarv, were
disposed of rather with regard to their safety, and for the preservation
of their manners, customs, and language ; their lands were therefore
in the more boggy and mountainous tracts, and far less profitable. They
were at the same time interdicted from intermarriage with the Irish ;
and a regulation more inconsistent with the further objects of the
settlement cannot easily be conceived. Providentially, indeed, among
the many pernicious abuses which defeated the beneficence of the
English government, these feeble restraints could never be main-
tained.

Such was the settlement of Ulster, which, whatever exceptions may
be made, was the wisest and most fortunate measure of British policy
in Ireland. A measure from which, by a connexion of circumstances
too simple to be further explained, may be traced the superior civil-
ization and prosperity of that Province.

The improvement of the new plantation, under the able superintend-
ence of Chichester, was rapid and decisive. Notwithstanding the
numerous defalcations and abuses inseparable from all great and
thorough-working measures, the whole results confirmed the wisdom
of what had been effectively, though not with unexceptionable precision,
carried into operation. Numerous undertakers observed their stipulated
engagements, and thriving farms soon covered the face of the country ;
castles, with their villages and respectable yeomanry tenants, gave it-an
orderly and civilized appearance. Several towns were built, and ob-
tained the privilege of fairs and markets. Thus commenced, on a
secure basis, the structure of a civilized, industrious, and commercial
Province. To complete this fair beginning, the king erected some of
these towns into corporations, with the right of sending members to
parliament.

Plowden, a historian of considerable learning and research, but of
views singularly confined, and writing manifestly under the strong in-
fluence of national feeling, quotes from Cox the apportionment of for-
feited lands, for the express purpose of showing the small share given
to the old possessors. But the statement does not support his pro-
position. The distribution was as follows : —

To the Landowners and Undertakers,

The Bishops' mensal lands,

The Bishops Termon and Erenachs,

The College, .

Free Schools, .

Incumbents' Glebes,

Old Glebes,

Deans and Prebends, .

Servitors and Natives, .

Restored to M'Guire, .

Acres.

209,800
3,413
72,780
5,630
2,700
18,000
1,208
1,473

116,330
5,980

20 TRANSITION.

To several Irish, ...... 1,548

Impropriations and Abbey Lands, .... 21,552

Old Patentees and Forts, ..... 38,224

These distributions of the land were accompanied or immediately
followed by several changes well calculated to spread satisfaction
through all classes. The sessions of Ulster were extended or restored
in Connaught and Munster ; the law of tanistry and gavelkind
abolished and replaced by the British law of inheritance ; the serf
class emancipated from their chiefs ; and a generally favourable sense
of the English government, for a transient hour excited. Many of
the chiefs, though deprived of somewhat of popular authority, saw the
superior advantages of order and lawful government. The recent dis-
orders inflicted on all, through the violence of Tyrone, imparted a sense
of the value of peace, and the necessity of a strong-handed jurisdiction
and defined rights.

We may for the present pass the numerous and minute conditions
respecting the settlement and distribution of the lesser divisions of
estates. They were planned upon the fairest principles of expedience,
limited by justice. But to those who can allow for the customs of the
country, and the habits of the age, it must be understood that every cause
in the least open to discontent of the tenant, or the grasping of official
malversation, was soon in full play. In the execution, unlicensed claims
were to be met, and spurious patents under pretended claims of the
Crown; these were wisely met by a "commission of grace " under the
great seal, by which the Subject was secured against all claims of the
Crown. The chief was secured by exchanging his Irish life tenure for
a tenure by grant ; but at the same time limited to the estate in his
actual possession; his tenants were fixed and bound in their tenures
by the valuation of former duties to the Lord. A similar policy was
applied respecting corporations and their charters.

The effects of these more favourable arrangements were fated to be
postponed to times yet distant. It is easier to make laws and economi-
cal changes, than to alter the implanted habit of a generation ; laws
can be made or repealed, but the traditions of a people hold their place.
Faction, superstition, and rooted discontent, the habit of sedition and
conspiracy, were indigenous in the soil, and surviving recollections,
the embers of ancient wrath, kept alive the undying flame to break forth
on the moment of occasion.

James, in the latter years of his reign, was driven to the adoption of
several projects to raise his revenue, and to remedy the mischievous and
disorderly working of his well-devised plans. Of these, some were not
only unsuccessful, but productive of discontent and alarm. The pro-
ject of correcting the abuse and misapplication of large grants to cities
and corporations by resumption of the lands, was soon discouraged by
a just apprehension of the consequences.

The Connaught proprietors, who had surrendered and received a
reconveyance of their estates in Elizabeth's reign, were surprised and
alarmed to find themselves insecure, by the neglect of the officers of
the Crown to enroll their patents. Their lands were consequently
adjudged to be still vested in the Crown. On the strength of this in-
iquitous omission, the king was advised to establish a new settlement

V

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 21

in Connaught. This injustice was met by strenuous remonstrance, and
at last by a compromise, not very honourable to the king's govern-
ment. The wronged lords were to be let off for fine and composition.
They were released by the king's death.

In March 1625, Charles I. was proclaimed. His troubles may be
said to have commenced with his reign. He was soon entangled between
the Protestant Commons of England and the Popish influences of his
matrimonial alliance with the crown of France. He was constrained
to assent to a public petition to enforce the laws against papists and
priests, and not less compelled to suffer the celebration of mass in his own
house, and open his doors to the swarm of priests who flocked around
his queen. He was immediately engaged in a contest with people and
parliament on supplies, and entered on a war of which he was forced
to disguise the object from his protestant subjects. But with these in-
auspicious beginnings, we are not directly concerned ; for Ireland, the
after results were calamitous.

A policy of conciliation had, for the latter years of the late reign,
been pursued by Falkland in Ireland ; but at last the ill consequences
were become too prominently apparent for compromise. It was now pre-
sumed not unnaturally that the king, surrounded by Popish influences,
must be in favour of the Irish priests; under this persuasion, the priests
began to assume an arrogant tone, and to parade their ceremonies and
offensive processions in the streets of Dublin. They went even so far
as to seize and forcibly appropriate some of the churches. Loftus and
the Earl of Cork, who succeeded Falkland in the government, would
have adopted harsh measures to check these presumptuous indications,
but were for a time restrained by the king. At length, it so happened
that a Carmelite fraternity, encouraged by continued indulgence, ven-
tured on a great public procession in Dublin, and forcibly repelled a
weak attempt to dispel them. This rashness compelled the king to act
with a show of decision, and fifteen religious houses were seized, with
a new Popish seminary.

At last the expediency of a firmer and more decided government was
sensibly required to compose these troubled elements ; and perhaps
still more, to improve the financial returns, so mainly necessary to the
growing wants of the king. Wentworth's government has been the
subject of lavish condemnation by latter historians ; we do not pro-
pose to defend him, but one thing is clear; it is admitted that his
severities were no more than necessary to quiet contentions which could
not be reconciled, and compel the awards of justice and equity to be
submitted to. Law, to be heard, was to speak in thunder. The great
administrative capacities of Wentworth were beneficially exerted to
restrain disorders inconsistent with peace, order, or safety ; though, we
can admit, that his powers and formidable influence were harshly strained
for what he regarded as higher obligation in the prosecution of the royal
interests. With those objects we may confess a want of sympathy, but
the lesson which Wentworth left of heroic fidelity and courage cannot
be recollected without praise. Some allowance must be made for a
truth enforced by the constant experience of many generations ; that
the complaints of the public incendiary, of every description or class,
take the tone of suffering virtue, of popular sympathy or patriotic in-

22 TRANSITION.

dianation. Wentworth, in common with the master whom he served,
must be admitted tc have carried the rule of despotism too far, to have
lost sight of justice in his earnest sense of the exigencies of the English
government ; he was too lightly impressed with the consideration due to
a people whose want of loyal feeling, of respect for rights and imperfectly
suppressed hostility, repelled trust, and continually kept sterner feel-
ings alive. Wentworth, who well knew, from personal experience, the
dangers of the approaching state of things, and whose practised sagacity
could not fail to discern the indications of the contest soon to set
in between the Commons of England and the Crown, had little heart
or spirit for the arduous and hitherto impracticable work, which, in less
stormy times, should have been his main duty, and could it be success-
ful, the glory of his name and memory. A state of tilings was not dis-
tantly arising, to involve both countries in common disaster for no brief
period, and which was to render of small eventual value all that could
then be effected for Ireland. The ocean tide was swelling to flood
both islands, and to sweep away boundaries and landmarks ; it was no
time for calm cultivation, or the gentler courses of peaceful economy.

A new policy was in fact then required by an unperceived change in
the times. The people of Ireland had for a generation been prepared by
many lessons, and by several acts of a wise policy, to receive and
rightly appreciate the benefits of a just paternal government; a just,
but firm maintenance of law, and the assertion of a stern control over
the Papal encroachments, was all that was needed. Both people and
chiefs had attained to a sense of their true interests, if repeated provo-
cation did not drive them too often back into the arms of treason and
ultramontane seduction. But these more favourable conditions were
interrupted by the civil wars, which now began to disturb the repose
of England — and for a hapless interval, to withdraw all fostering care
from Irish interests. The dawn of constitutional freedom was not
destined to rise in the sunshine and smile of heaven ; and Ireland,
scarcely emerged from the desolating struggle of 1641, was doomed to
share to the utmost, all the disastrous results, without the eventual
compensations.

From such considerations, we are led to the darkest period of Irish
history. Of necessity we shall have to state the discovery and main
outline of the massacre of 1641 in our memoirs of those mainly con-
cerned in its detection or involved in its guilt. We must now review
its proceedings more generally with respect to the causes, or as affecting
the after-course of national events.

Its main cause must be looked for in the long-continued course of
discontents and disorders by which it was preceded — fomented by the
papal agency, ever on the watch to keep alive the discontents of the
nation against their Protestant rulers ; by those who hoped to regain
what they had lost by forfeiture ; by those who were irritated by the
stern suppression of disorder and by the assertion of laws by which their
personal license had been suppressed; and lastly, with more just reason,
by those who felt that in the state exigencies of the time, exaction had
been strained, and remonstrance too peremptorily silenced, by an
authority which carried with it the insult of contempt.

But all this might of itself have passed away, leaving behind but the

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 23

beneficial effects. Good laws were enacted, an orderly system of exe-
cutive government in some measure established, and the majority of the
nobles and commons seeing the necessity of submission, gave their free
consent. The scene was ere long changed by the rapid progress of the
civil wars in England. It was soon perceived that the king was be-
ginning to be involved in difficulties, which must deprive him of all
power of interference in Irish concerns. And they, who at no time
lost sight of the chances of conspiracy, soon began to plot, and by every
usual art, frame an extensive rebellion. Their power over the peasan-
try, through their priesthood, was nothing less than absolute.

The Lord Maguire, who was the main contriver and most authentic
historian of this rebellion, was joined by Sir Phelim O'Neil, the chief
actor, Roger Moore, and others, whose respective parts we have related;
as also the account of its first discovery by the incaution of O Connelly.
About the actual insurrection, several accounts remain, mostly agree-
ing in the one fact, that great numbers of every age and sex were
butchered by the native Irish at the command of their leaders. And
it remains on credible record, that they acted on the avowed design to
massacre all the English without any exception. It has been a question
as to the number of the victims to this horrible revel of murder. It
has been much under, and as much over rated on either side, by the
friends or opponents of Irish disaffection ; each of which may be identi-
fied in the writings or politics of the descendants of the same parties,
whose names are eminent in the records of that evil time. In making
such a remark, it is proper to mark the qualification due to the different
period in which we live — civil and social cultivation — the long annihilation
of the traditionary rights for which they plotted and murdered ; and the
more firm and solid safeguards of the rights which time has affirmed,
have helped to assuage the rancours and bloodthirsty impulses, which
ruled the chiefs and serfs of that dark day. Yet it cannot be denied
that the family features of the race may be traced in the incendiary
deceiver and the hereditary dupe, who seek, by more specious means,
to gain the same ends. As to the actual amount of the slaughtered
English settlers — from an article in the Edinburgh Review (October
1865) we learn that the fact of the massacre of 1641 has been denied
by a recent writer, whom the critic, though not participating in his
monstrous and almost inexplicable mistake, praises for general ac-
curacy. At the same time justly observing the " partiality, which
tinges his whole narrative — a partiality which has led him, like Lingard
and Curry, to suppress or exaggerate (according as the case concerns
the Irish natives or the English settlers) sufferings and atrocities, too
monstrous in themselves to be either exaggerated or disguised." Every
writer of the actual period, who adverts to that sad history, has left
some high amount on record. The Jesuit O'Mahony boasts 150,000
shun in four years by his party. Carte states that in the first year the
slaughter amounted to 37,000, confirmed by Sir W. Petty's computa-
tion. The writers of the ultramontane, or of the democratic parties, have
generally tried to soften those terrible details, as the advocacy of their
insidious designs required. The evil was in some measure aggravated
by the unwise expedient of Strafford, of disarming the Protestants,
who, it was feared, would take part against the king, then at war with

24 TRANSITION.

the Scottish party in England. It is yet to be recorded, that numbers
were saved by their courage, and found refuge in the towns. Un-
happily, as has happened in later times, the crimes of one party brought
on in the natural course the not less criminal retaliations of the opposite.
In some months after these atrocities had commenced, and while yet at
their height, the example was too faithfully followed at Newry, where
as little mercy was shown by the Scottish troops to the helpless crowd
who surrendered there.

In feeling compelled to make these passing statements required by
the connection of our summary, we at the same time would willingly
spare the language of party recrimination. It is not easy to exclude
from the memory some sense of the old national animosities of sect or
party, which never have been yet allowed to rest in the grave of the
O'Neils and O'Mores of that dark day, and have often since called up
the same sanguinary Spirits to revisit the scene of their old atrocities.
But the impartial historian, however he may feel in duty, and in regard
to truth and justice, bound to vindicate the right, and to condemn
where condemnation is due, will recollect the state of those dark times
which gave a fatal concentration to the prejudices and resentments
which belong to unenlightened humanity, and which, even in our own
age of comparative civilization, can hardly be restrained from similar
excesses; for this, we need hardly recall the Bridge of Wexford or
Shruel, or the fires of Scullabogue. The same deeds which are the dis-
grace and shameful boast of our Celtic sires, have been designed by the
living representatives of the brave Maguires and Sir Phelims of 1G41.
The wisdom of government, and still more, the admirable conduct,
spirit, and judicial firmness and ability of the illustrious men who sit
on the Irish bench, have under Providence saved the country from an
attempted renewal of scenes which are never likely to be out of date.*
But we are compelled to hasten on. The effects of the Irish Rebellion
were destined to advance the proceedings and materially decide the
results of the civil wars on the other side of the channel, — by which
they were prolonged and finally doomed to meet a rude termination.
They presently afforded the pretext for extensive levies of troops and
money for their suppression, but to be employed to strengthen the par-
liamentary cause, and to reduce the power with the resources of King
Charles.

* To the Irish peasantry of this generation, there is due a debt of justice. The ac-
celerated progress of art, commercial and general knowledge in the 19th century, has
net advanced without diffusing a large impulse and portion of its light amongst them. The
peasantry have by slow degrees been acquiring not only much of the externals of civil-
ization— dress, manner, and the English language— but with those apparent advantages,
a truer sense of their real interests, and of the retarding influence of their old barbar-
ous prejudices and superstitious delusions. These happier changes are due in the
greatest measure to a cause not yet fairly acknowledged — the earnest and self -devoted
labours, for the last 40 years, of the Protestant clergy, who have of late been falsely
taunted with the little progress in conversions which they are said to have made in the
south and west. But a silent and unobserved result has followed on their labours, of
which we may hereafter have occasion to notice the details. The character of Popery
itself has been imperceptibly changed by an infusion of scriptural light, which, like the
first grey dawn of twilight on our western hills, has awakened numbers of those who
call themselves Catholics to Christian convictions. And while the grosser errors of
the ultramontanism have been fast sinking down among the dregs of older ignorance,
even their very priesthood have been compelled to recognise and conform to the
change.

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 25

The first great change caused in the aspect of affairs, was the exten-
sion to Ireland of the main struggle between the king and the parlia-
ment; in such a manner, that the Rebellion in that country seemed for a
season to acquire the character with the pretensions and forms of loyalty.
An assembly was held in Kilkenny, in which the Royal authority was
formally professed in connection with the interests of the chief rebel
leaders, and under the insane guidance of the papal Nuncio Rinuncini.
Considerable supplies and a considerable body of Irish soldiers were
obtained for foreign service, and the royal cause was not ineffectively
contested for a time; but not without a more real and sincere view to the
objects of the papal see anc? leaders of the rebel faction, thus forwarded
under cover of loyalty. This confusion of purpose, and the internal
dissensions thus prevailing, were very considerable; and it was not long
before the Marquis of Ormonde and other genuine supporters of the
royal cause, discovered that they were surrounded by hollow and traitor-
ous profession, and felt compelled to withdraw from the party which was
only willing to use and betray them. With the decline of the royal
cause the contest assumed a character less equivocal; and along season
of factious contention followed, when the reins of government dropped
from every hand. The nominal peace of 1646, concluded in the king's
name, was rendered abortive by the parliamentarian partizans, and by
the Nuncio, who went beyond his commission in violence. He was
backed in his opposition to peace by a strong party under Owen O'Neil,
and became for some time the prominent authority in Ireland. By the
success of O'Neil in a recent battle, this monk was enabled to exercise
civil jurisdiction, displacing magistrates and public officers who refused
submission to his orders. He excommunicated the commissioners at
Waterford, and all who had any part in the peace. He, however, com-
mitted the oversight of an exceptional proviso in favour of loyalty, for
which he received a reproof from Rome, by which he was instructed
that the " Holy See" would never consent to approve the civil allegiance
of Catholic subjects to a "heretical prince."

The main object of Rinuncini was the possession of Dublin, and there
to fix himself as governor. His intemperate violence soon caused dissen-
sion among his faction — O'Neil and Preston, his chief supporters, began
to regard each other with suppressed animosity. O'Neil was earnestly
devoted to the Nuncio's main commission to establish the papal sover-
eignty in the country. It soon began, in the course of the following
year, to be more truly apprehended that the event of the contest
was not likely to be in favour of Pope or king, and it became generally
felt that the will of the parliament must decide the fate of all the fac-
tions. The wretched and mischievous monk was, with some difficulty,
awakened from his crazed dream of exaltation, and persuaded to quit
the country. A more formidable intruder was in preparation to appear
upon the scene, and crush the factious parties which so long contended
for pre-eminence, into terrified repose.

On the 15th of August, 1649, Cromwell landed with 12,000 men,
of whom 4,000 were cavalry ; and a large train of artillery. He first
visited Dublin, where he settled the government under Colonel Jones;
and from thence marched to Drogheda with 10,000 men. — On the 10th
of the following month, the city had been well garrisoned and fortified,

26 TEANSITION.

and its defence was looked forward to with sanguine expectation, by
the leaders of the Royal party ; without, perhaps, sufficiently taking
into calculation the composition of their garrison. Such hopes were
doomed to disappointment. Cromwell battered the walls by a fire kept
up for two days, and having obtained a wide practicable breach, found
no resistance from within. What followed has been the subject of much
unqualified animadversion, and the doubtful defence of a political and mili-
tary expediency. The historian, whatever may be his creed or party,
must shrink from any attempt to extenuate a cruelty so irrespective as to
the victims, however beneficial or even necessary the proposed result.
But though we cannot defend the massacre of a garrison which had laid
down its arms, or of citizens who were innocent of resistance, it is fair
that Cromwell should have the benefit of such motives and expediencies
as have been urged in palliation of a proceeding as inexcusable by the
laws of war as by those of humanity. Ten years of sanguinary faction,
all through signalized by deeds of unredeemed atrocity, were likely to
convey the impression that peaceful settlement must be hopeless, and that
mercy could only result in the renewal of the same persistent and incor-
rigible course of murder and rapine. To arrest this by the only available
expedient, however desperate, might seem not altogether inexcusable.
Many cities were to be stormed, and the whole land must be washed in
its blood, if it were to be subdued by force of arms. Terror was had
recourse to, to obviate this terrible necessity, by a warrior hardened
to the milder feeling of humanity in the long and rough training of
cruel civil war. Cromwell's hard sagacity apprehended the conse-
quence which followed — a consequence as merciful and politic as the
means were inhuman and bloody. But it is also not less probable,
though hardly more to be excused, that Cromwell was at the time much
actuated by a resentful sense of the still more atrocious persecutions
then at their height in Savoy and other lands of Europe in the same
cause; by the authority or influence of the Pope, and the fanatic prin-
ces who massacred whole peaceful settlements and communities in his
name. But we have been led farther than our design. To judge of
men with perfect justice, it is fair to look back into the temper and
condition of the times in which they acted. In that agitated period,
a vindictive spirit and a spirit of terror breathed in the air of life.
Persecution, conspiracy, and the aspect of change and revolution oc-
cupied and disquieted the mind of all. Strong hearts were strung to
meet the emergencies by which the time or their position was surrounded,
with a temper which silenced, at moments of trial, much of the affections
which prevailed in the calm of peaceful times.

The end was as was expected. It is needless in this summary to
accompany Cromwell in his rapid and decisive progress. He was called
to England by the not less unsettled condition of affairs there ; and
left to Ireton the prosecution and final settlement of his campaign.
His departure was the signal for the revival of the disorderly scenes of
tumultuary conflict between the same old confederate factions composed
of Irish chiefs and popish agitators— and loyalists now without more than
the shadow of a cause or a name. The principal events of this inter-
val will have to be noticed in our memoir of the Duke of Ormonde, the
chief name of this transitionary period ; and if virtue and goodness be

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 27

counted essential elements of greatness, well entitled to be esteemed
the great man of his time.

The accession of Charles II., in 1 660, excited many expectations and
fears through both kingdoms, and several measures were adopted, which
gave cause for satisfaction and discontent, so as to leave the different
factions and parties eventually as they had been. The king had been
served by many in his distresses, and came to the throne encumbered
by promises, most of which he could not easily, and was not very in-
tent to fulfil. Something was manifestly to be done for the security of
his reign, and to quiet the more exacting of the strongest factions.
The leanings of the king were to popery, but he was in the hands of
the protestants, and more especially of the Puritan party.

It was in this position that a policy of compromise was found neces-
sary. All parties were animated by mutual dislike, suspicion, and jeal-
ousy. All desired restoration to real or supposed rights, or to earned re-
wards. Many were emboldened to seize their former estates, and local
contests followed which filled the country with fresh disorders, such as to
create alarm and favour complaints of interested parties transmitted
to the government; all seemed as the beginning of a new Rebellion.
The Act of Indemnity then in preparation, was thus on the point of
being rendered one of spoliation against all the old English proprietors.
A proclamation against Irish rebels was published, and an Irish parlia-
ment proposed, for the security of the interests assumed to be endan-
gered. This the king saw reason to postpone, in order to be first en-
abled to study at leisure how best to extricate himself from the em-
barrassment of conflicting rights, and arrive at some effective settlement.

This design was in no long time initiated by a declaration publish-
ing the plan of a settlement, including several arrangements to establish
tiie rights and claims of all parties, on principles of justice, and of their
respective claims. These proposed settlements, as stated by Carte,
whom we cannot afford to follow, appear strictly according to the equi-
table claims of the parties. Old possessions not determined by lawful
forfeiture for rebellion were confirmed, as also those grants which had
been the recompence of service — some too of forfeitures which were re-
linquished; and from some provision was made for innocent Papists;
while several classes of persons implicated in rebellions specifically de-
scribed by date, were excluded. It may be needless to say that suspicion
and discontent soon appeared to be the more prominent effects of the pro-
posed settlement. An Irish parliament was called, in 166 1, to give it the
sanction of law, and a commission was appointed for its execution. In
this, all the difficulties, which must be conjectured by any one who may
have followed the preceding outline, ensued. Though the rights of
many were established or secured, many just claims were doomed to
defeat, by intrigue and by stretches of power, and also by entanglements
arising out of previous settlement; as also, further, by the entire de-
ficiency of lands to meet many claims, — thus leaving a wide scope for
litigation and complaint to go into the sum of indigenous disorder and
sectarian animosity.

Of these the rough and troubled succession p cents little variety,
and still less of necessarv connection with the succession of historical
events. The most notice, ible character of the opening of James's ac-

28 TRANSITION.

cession, is the repeal and resumption of whatever was done by his pre-
decessor to correct or amend former abuses, or to reconcile old enmi-
ties. Feebleness and tyranny were unhappily united in the temper of
the last of the Stuart kings. His accession was greeted by the tri-
umphant exultation of the popish faction in both kingdoms. The
wavering policy of Charles long continued to keep up an intense ex-
citement in the Romish party in Ireland, who (not quite erroneously),
considered him as favourable to their church, and looked to the pros-
pect of a future intervention in their favour. The open adhesion of
his brother seemed to confirm their hopes, and gave fuel to the fire of
insurrection. James had for many years wholly devoted himself to the
Romish faith, and with his brother, Charles, secretly cherished the
design for its re- establishment in Ireland. This design was now
openly avowed. Many of the best-known pages of English history
tell of his conduct to advance this scheme, and of the results, fatal to
his reign and to his race.

His accession was the signal for exultation among his popish subjects
in Ireland, and for a considerable exchange of the feelings of either
faction. The subdued and broken spirit of repressed disaffection
caught once more a gleam of rabble patriotism, and prepared to seize
the homes and altars of their Norman lords: these, on their part,
shrunk from outrage and prepared for defence.

CHAPTER III.

James II. — Derry— William III. — Battle of the Boyne — Sieges of Atklone— Aughriin—
Limerick — Final Siege and Capitulation.

The accession of James II. was the consistent winding up of the
general policy of the Stuart line. Despotism, maintained on the fallacious
maxim of the " divine right " of kings, falsely interpreted, was eventually
to lead on the true and final establishment of British freedom on its con-
stitutional basis. With the civil wars, suppressed by the iron hand and
genius of Cromwell, were swept away the formal and legal pretexts of
arbitrary power : but they were still in a manner invested with the
sanctions of custom, and rendered venerable by tradition. The Restor-
ation insensibly revived many an old prejudice, which there was little
in the comparatively lax tyranny of the royal voluptuary to render
hateful. Charles was too sagacious, and too regardless of all that did
not interfere with his private pleasure, to risk any decisive course
which was likely to give public offence. Unlike his brother, he was
not likely to be betraved into peril by the errors of superstition. In
common "with James, he had long secretly given his allegiance to the
Roman See ; and they had concerted the means to steal in the author-
ity and profession of the Popish church into Ireland, where it seemed
least likely to meet effectual opposition.

The accession of James gave a strong impulse to his popish subjects,

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 29

to whom it seemed to carry the assurance of triumph to their church,
and a full restoration to their claims.

The first steps of the new government promised to fulfil these ex-
pectations. Ormonde was removed from the lieutenancy, and sub-
stituted by two Lords Justices, who, though still Protestant, were
regarded as popish in their leanings. James was aware of the expedi-
ency of avoiding the excitement of the Protestant party, by any harsh
or summary display of his intended policy. To these a temporary advan-
tage was thus secured, at the cost nearly of a popish insurrection; but
James, profiting by favourable appearances, soon gave way to the im-
pulses of his arbitrary nature and superstitious creed. He openly declared
and acted upon his scheme to employ popish officers in England ; and still
more decidedly in Ireland. On the pretext of Monmouth's rebellion,
he called in the arms of the militia. The general terror thus produced,
with the earnest and undisguised exultation of the Papists, may be re-
garded as the inauguration of the great events which followed. We
cannot afford to follow, in its details, the course of those measures and
their immediate consequences, of which the main result to Ireland was
the war which followed, and decided the main issue. For a time the dis-
arming of the militia called out a swarm of bandits from their dens.
Informers filled the ear of authority with whispers of Protestant con-
spiracy or private treason. The Earl of Tyrconnel was sent over from
the king with specious instructions, which seemed to imply equal re-
spect to both parties, but with a contrary understanding, fully confirmed
by the king's policy at the same time pursued in England. Tyrconnel
ordered that none but Roman Catholics should be allowed in the army.
It was openly declared among them, that in a few months not one Protes-
tant should remain in the army, and that the ancient proprietors would
thus be enabled to recover their lands. Tyrconnel was vainly opposed
by the Earl of Clarendon, who saw the consequence of this and other ex-
travagant proceedings. Clarendon, who would not be a party to a policy
both dangerous and dishonest, was soon dismissed. Sunderland was
appointed in his room, and was bribed by a pension from Tyrconnel,
whom he had appointed as Lord Deputy.

Tyrconnel was in one respect honest ; he was a sincere fanatic in his
political creed. He had an escape from the carnage of Drogheda, and
carried his resentment against Cromwell so far as to propose to be his
assassin ; and when that heroic ofier was not accepted, it was succeeded
by a like threat against the Duke of Ormonde. He was noted for his
utter disregard of every principle — a liar and a tyrant, a slanderer, and
politically a swindler — committing public and private wrong on any
false pretence. We should apologize for this summary judgment; — it
could be more smoothly conveyed in the usual course of historic narra-
tive, and by reference to the usual authentic writers. But it is necessary
to pass on to consequences which leave no doubt of their antecedents.

The Irish army was soon a fit organization for the designs of the
royal bigot, and for the ends of the popish party. The Protestants, de-
prived of their arms, were driven into the service of the Prince of Orange.
The corporation of Dublin was, with the same design, advised, with
threats, to resign its charter. A. deputation to the king was con-
tumeliously rejected : a quo warranto issued, and, by perversion of

30 TRANSITION.

law, decided against this and other corporations. Popish corporations
were established in their room, fitly accommodated to the Royal ends.

A like attempt was made on the University, with the addition of a
robbery of their plate, too lawless to be quite successful in the end ;
but enough to leave its brand on the intention.

And now the elements of the hurricane, which was destined to sweep
away these infamies from the land, were fully aroused, and in energetic
activity ; — administrative robbery, military victims, judicial favour,
crime unrestrained, murder at will, trade at an end, and the power
and patronage of the Crown wholly devoted to the dissolution of every
law of civil right or social order.

In course of no long time, by the proceedings thus briefly sum-
med, the Protestants were so completely divested of all civil rights
and legal authority, that the adverse party were at liberty to exercise
their factious and aggressive tendencies, in mutual contention. While
this state of things was in its natural progress from deep to deeper dis-
order, a strong reaction was fast proceeding in England.

It is needless to trace what has been rendered so popularly familiar
as James' precipitate career in the design to effect by his own authority
in England, the same course of perversion which he had more success-
fully inaugurated in Ireland by his servants. He was interrupted in this
rash and blind course by intelligence from Tyrconnel, received from
Amsterdam, respecting William's design. The rumour spread rapidly
in Ireland, and awakened on either side a general excitement of hope
and terror; and the hasty arming of both parties. The English party
proposed to seize the castle of Dublin ; and on the other side a rabble
started up, calling themselves the king's soldiers, and were maintained
by indiscriminate plunder. They were stoutly resisted, and the country
was soon filled with the noise of party strife.

Under such auspices, the Protestant party were soon exposed to
plunder, both by stretch of legal wrong, and illegal violence ; by informers
and robbers of every rank and order. The act of settlement was re-
pealed by a Bill in the Irish Parliament. An act of attainder was also
passed, by which many Protestants who had retired either to England
or to take service abroad, were condemned to the penalties of death and
forfeiture, unless upon surrender within a limited time. Those who
were included in this act amount to 2,461 persons of every rank and
profession. To give the greater effect to this atrocious act, it was con-
cealed until the limit of the time assigned for indulgence was expired.
It was discovered by an accident, and the cowardly tyrant owned his
shame by reproaching his Attorney General for an encroachment on
the royal prerogative, by a clause which excluded the power of pardon
after the 1st November 1689.

In the meantime, many lesser administrative acts, some to appease
the fears and suspicions of his English subjects, some to raise money by
arbitrary stretches of prerogative in Ireland, in which latter offence
against people, parliament, and even his own advisers, he went to the
most extreme and arbitrary lengths. We cannot venture to state in
detail his swindling device to raise money by the adulteration of the
current coin, or the cruel and base refinement upon fraud, by which
(through the army) he contrived to turn the impoverishing consequence

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 31

against Protestant traders, or the climax of dishonesty by which he
bought the commodities of his people with base coin and turned trader
himself on the goods obtained by these infamous devices.

To heighten the confusion and distress thus spread by these stretches
of tyranny and exaction, the report of a massacre, in which the English
were to be exterminated without distinction of age or sex, was suddenly
spread in every direction, by anonymous letters directed to several
gentlemen. Soon the panic became general ; the memory of 1641 was
but too easily recalled, and lived sensibly in too many homes. Many
families took refuge in England ; numbers in fortified towns. In
Ulster, where the loyal spirit was strong, and the Protestants were
more numerous and united, the appeal to arms was soon proposed ;
arms were collected, and courses of a defensive nature discussed.

In the midst of this confusion, while much wrong was in course of
perpetration by authority, by arbitrary license, by lawless violence ; and
much preparation for sanguinary strife, shortly to break forth, was on
foot ; the report of William's landing at Torbay gave a new impulse to
every party. It spread consternation among the Irish party, but more
especially, it paralyzed the official plunderers, who, under Tyrconnel's
protection, robbed all parties for their private use, or for the royal
coffer.

To that great man, the cry of Protestant England was now directed.
There, too, the country was the prey of two great factions, though
happily the public mind was united in a just and constitutional sense
of the national interest, and of the dangers to freedom and religion
from the abuse of prerogative. Among the upper ranks of the aristo-
cracy, the spirit of faction began and ended ; the ordinary contention
of party, never wanting to political action, then, in that age of low
political morality, turned almost exclusively on the motives of personal
ambition. The perilous intrigues which were soon to harass and ob-
struct the reforming and saving efforts of the common deliverer were, for
the moment, arrested by the extremity of a great constitutional danger,
and the appeal to William animated every voice that carried authority.

William, earnestly intent upon the urgent necessities of a great con-
test which may be said to have virtually combined the interests of
Europe: and besides, beset by the difficulties of his domestic adminis-
tration; where he had, with insufficient authority, to constrain the
factious temper of a frugal people to the support of a great war and to
move and combine his wavering allies in the Protestant cause, against the
" most Catholic king : " William naturally felt the difficulty of decision
between many present exigencies and the serious obstacles presented
by the position of affairs in England. At the same time, he could not
fail to discern the prospective advantages to the main policy of his life,
to be derived by a leader of European war, from having the power to
wield the influence and authority of England.

As we are not engaged in writing the history of England, we may
briefly say, that these doubts were soon decided. William was per-
suaded to visit England, with a view to interfere and mediate between
his father-in-law and his oppressed people ; and after the necessary
preparation he landed in Torbay, on the coast of Devon, in 1688. The
particulars of his reception will be found in any history of England.

32

TRANSITION.

We have only here to mention, that after a short indecision, in which
fear and the consciousness of wrong predominated, James took flight
into France. Having for some previous time been in receipt of re-
peated letters of remonstrance from both William and Mary, he was in
full possession of their sense of his conduct, and of their wholly op-
posite principles. He also had a lively conception of tlie popular en-
thusiasm for them, and scorn against himself; the combination was too
much for his timid spirit.

In Ireland the fears and expectations of parties changed sides,
while their mutual animosity continued steady. Each party had
its own objects ; some to retain plunder, some to obtain redress.
Patriotism, the standard pretext of Irish sedition in more civilized
times, had little to say in that confusion of more personal and meaner
motives. Men of more lofty nature, known for ruling wisdom and
virtue, had been carefully put aside by a ruler whose most fortunate
qualifications were the folly which disarmed his despotic temper, and
the cowardice which removed him from the scene.

William, to whom all eyes were turned, was yet hampered by the
numerous and perplexing concerns of his English affairs. The same
bigotry and tyrannic aims which had confused and aggravated the
already disordered state of Ireland, had left England without a govern-
ment, in the crisis of a great political revolution. Exposed to the
opposite influences of two great and powerful parties, each desirous to
assert its own views of policy, the new king lay under disadvantages
which the utmost strength of his sagacious character was not more
than equal to resist. His ignorance of the language, his inexperience
in the courses of internal administration, of the popular temper, and more
than all, of the public men through whom he was at present to act, all
laid him open to the bolder pressure of opposite counsels. There was
some misarrangement in every branch of administration; every public
interest was more or less to be rectified, every concern of foreign
policy to be guarded and provided for; — the reader will call to mind
that William was then the great arbitrator of the freedom of Europe,
no less than of English and Irish liberties. Months were at least
necessary to clear him from the embarrassment of these exigencies,
and of the endeavours of party to hamper his powers of action.
But the calculations of his ambitious or party counsellors were de-
feated. In the cold silent bearing, and undemonstrative aspect and
manner of William, there was concealed a keen, lofty, and far-seeing
intellect, and a judgment guided unerringly by right principle and
the love of truth. His knowledge of men had been acquired beyond
the narrow arena of parliaments and privy councils — his constitutional
experience in the concerns of Europe, where lie was recognised as
the protector and the great leader in the cause of freedom. In
England, he was revered both for the near alliance, by his marriage,
with the presumptive heiress to the throne, and by the high authority
of his character, which caused him to be regarded by the oppressed
subjects of his tyrannical and bigoted father-in-law, as the centre of
appeal, and the refuge from iniquitous oppression and capricious tamper-
ing with the law and the liberties of the people.

James, as the reader is aware, had taken flight at the approach of the

Prince of Orange, and appeared as a suppliant at the footstool of Louis,
the implacable enemy of William, and found in him a ready friend.
From him he obtained some present aid in money, men, and ships,
with promise of more, which doubtless, would have followed any material
prospect of success.

The ardour of the confederates could not await the tardy movements
of their foreign reinforcements ; nor were the English authorities and
officers of William's party quite remiss. There yet existed on the
British side no regular civil or military organization, and though the
preparation of war was on every side in active motion, there was no
army in the field, no certain measure of attack or defence. There was,
as often of old, the momentary pause of terror or distrust, which pre-
cedes civil war. There were the yet vivid recollections of 41 ; there
was the more recent experience of William's heroic achievements in the
vindication of European freedom, against the greatest military power
of the age. On either side, the formidable powers stood yet apart, like
Milton's thunder-clouds, prepared

" To join their dark encounter in mid air."

This preliminary suspense was interrupted by the zeal of the
restless confederate parties. Collecting their scattered bands, they
saw the advantage, without fully measuring the possibility, of seizing
by surprise upon the imperfectly garrisoned towns. In the mean-
time, Tyrconnel despatched a messenger to France to encourage and
hasten the proceedings of James. But willing to deceive and to secure
his own retreat by a double manoeuvre, he treacherously sent a contrary
message by Lord Mountjoy, a peer in the English interest, to assure
the fugitive king that there was no remaining hope for him ; and
advising that he should think no more of recovering his kingdom. By the
Dther, James was privately urged to hasten his preparations and his
journey, and to secure Mountjoy. This nobleman was instantly seized
and shut up in the Bastille.

On the 1 st of February James left St. Germains on his way to Brest,
where he arrived on the 5th. Louis presented him with his own
cuirass, and bade him farewell, saying, " The best wish I can offer is,
that I may see you no more," a wish not destined to be fulfilled. Louis
supplied 2,500 soldiers, with a fleet of 15 sail, manned with his best
sailors, and commanded by trusty officers. After some days' delay by
stress of weather, this armament reached Kinsale on the 12th of March,
and after passing through Cork, James made his way to Dublin.

Arrived in Dublin, he found few who were not of his own zealous
party, the priests, and those who looked to him for acquisition of lands,
and ascendency of religion. He was met on his approach by a pro-
cession of ecclesiastics bearing the emblems and objects of the Romish
worship. He convened a council composed of a few of the Jacobite
peers who still adhered to las cause, with some Roman Catholic bishops,
and French officers.

From this, he published such declarations as he supposed might for
the moment operate to conciliate his opponents by political equivocation.
He was waited upon by the Protestant bishop and clergy of Meath, to

ii. c Ir.

34 TRANSITION.

offer their complaints ; they were assured of his general protection for
the rights of all, in their religion and property. Having called a parlia-
ment, to which he announced his regard to the rights of conscience, he
consented to the repeal of the act of settlement, thus depriving the
Scottish and English Protestants of the security for their lands. In
virtue of this repeal, immediate measures of spoliation were at once com-
menced, and armed squadrons were detached to effect the forcible
ejectment of Protestant proprietors ; and, so far as this power of robbery
extended, there was a universal course of seizure and forcible possession
pursued, irrespectively of all consideration but force.

The Protestant churches were in like manner seized, and transferred
to the Romish priests ; and, to illustrate more fully the tyrant's pro-
fessed respect for the rights of conscience, Protestants were forbidden
to assemble for worship or for any purpose, on penalty of death. James
was soon called away by the pressure of less encouraging circum-
stances, to the north where the Protestants still retained a front of
resistance.

It was the obvious interest of the Jacobites to secure possession of
the forts and garrison towns. In December 1688 a strong regiment,
purely Irish, had been sent by Tyrconnel to occupy Londonderry. It
so happened, that when this force had reached a neighbouring village, a
Mr. Philips having observed its character, and apprehending its destina-
tion, sent off immediate notice to the magistrates. The regiment of
Tyrconnel had just come in sight, and the dismay of the citizens was not
yet allayed, when a party of thirteen youths, " prentice boys of Derry,"
acting at the instigation of a gentleman of the neighbourhood, rushed
to the Ferry gates, to which the enemy were approaching. Having
seized upon the keys, they raised -and secured the drawbridge, and
locked the gate. This act, with the spirited appeal of David Cairns, the
gentleman referred to, and some officers who joined in rallying the peo-
ple, awakened the resolution of the citizens to exclude the regiment.
After an arrangement had been come to by which a force was admitted
there of a more Protestant character, a feeble garrison yet remained
under the command of Colonel Lundy, who, though nominally com-
manding for King William, had secretly resolved to betray the city to
James. As the magistrates and civic authorities, in their first alarm,
hesitated as to the safe course, and in their perplexity were confused
and inactive, Lundy seized the occasion to throw a damp on their re-
solution by insidious representations of the inutility and danger of re-
sistance. Happily his drift was shrewdly conjectured ; he was under-
stood ; and as a reaction was soon excited by the loyal remonstrances
of more determined spirits, he was expelled from the town.

James presently appeared with his army before the walls, confident
that his summons, with the formidable appearance of his forces, would
awe the garrison to a surrender. He was fired upon from the walls,
and after eleven days, retired, leaving the conduct of the siege to De
Rosen, the commander of the French troops. Then followed a siege
memorable for the extreme and prolonged sufferings of the citizens, and
for the patient fortitude with which they were endured. Of the many
recorded instances of the like extremities, none have been known to
exceed those of Londonderry. Some of the details we shall meet in

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 35

the history of Walker, who commanded. These sufferings were aggra-
vated by the gloomy addition of hope deferred ; the fleet, with stores
and reinforcements for their relief, was unable to approach, having
failed to force the boom which the besiegers had fastened across the
narrow part of Lough Foyle. After hovering for a few days in sight
of the famishing multitudes, this fleet disappeared, leaving them for a
few more terrible days to famine and despair. It would be difficult for
the invention of romance to add a horror to this half-told tale of
human endurance ; yet such, in cruel reality, there was added ; the
population of the surrounding country were swept together from their
homos and crowded within the lines of the besieging host, under the
city walls, to entreat for shelter and food from their friends and neigh-
bours within, adding thus their cries and sufferings to the disease and
famine of those who felt the wretchedness they could not relieve.

Happily, at length, this interval of horror was broken by one more
glimpse of the fleet sailing up the Lough. The hope thus awakened
was no longer vain. The boom gave way before the foremost prow,
and the long-desired fleet sailed in, to cheer the despairing crowd, and
carry discouragement and irresolution to the besieging force. Within
the walls no less than eight thousand had died within the four months,
during which these heroic men had endured and braved all the fierce
extremities of privation and danger, with a constancy never excelled.

It was now, on the last mentioned event, felt by De Rosen, the
French commander, that any further prosecution of the siege was but
a hopeless waste of time. He broke up his encampment in great morti-
fication ; baffled and defeated in all his efforts by a feeble and undis-
ciplined garrison, rather citizens than soldiers, and deficient in the
munitions of war, commanded by a few presbyterian clergy, under the
guidance of Rev. George Walker, the rector of the neighbouring parish
of Donaghmore.

On the same day, the Protestants of Enniskillen, who had still kept
their town against many attempts at surprise, sallied out in force, and
marched against a strong party of the Irish, commanded by Macarthy.
They came up with them at Newtown Butler, and, after a fierce en-
counter, routed them with a slaughter of 2,000 men.

On the 12th August 1689, Schomberg entered Carrickfergus Bay
with 90 vessels and 10,000 men. His troops were badly appointed.
The expedition was hurried, and it is likely that reliance on the weak-
ness of a barbarous enemy, somewhat appeared to render haste more
important than force ; devastation and pillage were, it was thought, the
main danger to be arrested. In this, it soon appeared there was some
mistake. Having landed, Schomberg laid siege to the town of Carrick-
fergus, into which Macarthy had thrown himself with the remnant of
his army, amounting to 2,500 men. The siege lasted four days, after
which the garrison were allowed to march out with their arms, to the
great indignation of the soldiery, who were hardly restrained from
attacking, but could not be prevented from disarming them.

From this town the general marched towards the neighbourhood of
Carlingford and Dundalk. He encamped in an unwholesome situation,
among fens and morasses, where his army was exposed to considerable
privations, and soon began to show the effects of the damp and pestilen-

36 TRANSITION.

tial air. The army of James soon appeared in sight. Schomberg's soldiers
were in no condition to fight; worn by fatigue, sickness, privation, and
reduced in number, it was seen that they could not fail to be surrounded
by the enemy's vastly superior numbers. On the other side, James'
general, De Rosen, who, fortunately for the English, was not aware of
their helpless condition, awaited their attack, and from its delay, only in-
ferred that Schomberg " wanted something." His judicious respect for
an English army convinced him that nothing could be gained by the
attack which was urged by the inconsiderate James, and he drew off
his troops to Dundalk, while Schomberg fortified his camp on the
grounds.

He was in no condition for effective action, and, of necessity, was con-
strained to await a reinforcement, which he expected with his artillery
and cavalry, in order to proceed in pursuit of James.

In the meantime the English parliament loudly expressed its dis-
satisfaction at the conduct of this war, and King William, harassed by
complaints which were in a great measure factious, announced his re-
solution to take the command in person.

William landed at Carrickfergus on the 14th June 1690, attended
by Prince George of Denmark, the Duke of Ormond, and many of the
English nobility, and after half an hour proceeded in Schomberg's
carriage to Belfast. While this event had been anxiously expected by his
friends in Ireland, Schomberg's army had regained its spirits and been
reinforced from England, and also joined by the heroic Enniskilleners.
These gallant men had, to the number of 1,400, encountered the Duke
of Berwick at Cavan with 4,000 Irish, whom they put to flight at the
first charge. Seven thousand Danes, under the command of the Prince
of Wirtemberg, had landed in Belfast to join the English army, and, on
both sides, the arrangements for a more regular and extensive scale of
proceeding were in course of active preparation. Schomberg was
supplying his garrisons ; and James had received 5,000 French soldiers
under Count Lauzun. Of this reinforcement, it has been ascertained,
and should be remembered, that it was commissioned with the insidious
design to secure Ireland for the French king. James had soon reason
to be tired of the alliance, as he was treated with insolent superiority
by Lauzun, and utter disregard by his troops.

The arrival of King William spread universal rejoicing among the
English, and in the army. From Belfast he advanced to Lisburn. His
first act was to order an annual charge of £ 1,200 on the customs of
Belfast, in favour of the northern dissenting ministers, who had acted
and suffered in the cause of religion and order. He gave directions
for immediate action ; and when his military adviser suggested more
deliberate proceedings, he answered, " I came not to Ireland to let the
grass grow under my feet." The army was much inspirited by his energy,
and the earnest activity with which he rode through their ranks in-
specting everything for himself. He lodged in his camp, and spent his
day in looking to the comforts of his men. He had been six days thus
engaged, while James was still consoling himself with the delusion that
he was yet only striving with an English faction. He was undeceived at
last, by the alarming intelligence that William was on his march to
meet him. He arranged his affairs in Dublin, and marched out with

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 37

6,000 French to join his Irish force, encamped on the banks of the
Boyne, and amounting to 33,000 men.

He was now grown weary of suspense, and fully determined to try
the hazard of a battle. His more considerate officers, who could more
coolly weigh the chances on either side, strongly urged a contrary
advice ; they represented that a large reinforcement was to be soon ex-
pected from France, and only then awaited the departure of the Eng-
lish fleet from the coast ; that the disorders in England must im-
mediately require the presence of William ; and a very short delay would
be of advantage, for the better discipline of their army. James, governed
by the wilfulness of his temper, obstinately rejected all such counsels,
and declared his resolution to " strike one stroke for his crown." He had
not long to wait for the desired occasion.

The decision was no less a matter of earnest anxiety to William,
whose mind was bent on more important interests elsewhere. He
directed his march to the same scene of action, and on the last day of
June, 1690, moved his army towards the river Boyne. He led his ad-
vanced guard to a hill two miles west of Drogheda, to reconnoitre his
enemy. From this height he saw the town occupied strongly with an Irish
force. Eastward, on the farther banks of the river, lay the hostile en-
campment, flanked on the left by a morass ; in their front the fords of
the Boyne, defended by breastworks.

Anxious to gain a nearer view, he approached a rising ground opposite
to Oldbridge, where he sat down with his officers to rest, and was en-
gaged in consultation upon the method of crossing the ford, and the
position for his battery. On the opposite bank, James' officers, Ber-
wick, Sarsfield, and Tyrconnel, with other officers, appeared riding, and
by their movements showed their discovery of the king's party. Pre-
sently a small cavalry detachment made its appearance opposite the
king's position, and immediately retired, after having first deposited two
field pieces of artillery under cover of a hedge. William divined the
purpose of this manoeuvre, and mounted his horse : there succeeded an
immediate discharge of one gun from the hedge. It killed a man nearly
on a line with the king, and two horses. Another shot followed, struck
the ground, rose and grazed the king's shoulder, slightly wrounding
him. As some confusion in his suite became thus visible, a loud shout of
triumph rose from the other side, and before the impression could be
counteracted, the report of his being slain was carried to Dublin, and
thence to Paris, where the news was received with triumph, and cele-
brated by a discharge of cannon. William rode through his army to
dispel the alarm.

Late at night he summoned his officers, and announced his design to
pass the fords opposite, in front of the enemy. Schomberg strongly
remonstrated, but he adhered to his plan of attack, which was to cross
the Boyne early, in three places. Having settled the details of the
attack, he rode with torches through the camp, visiting all the posts.

Early next morning he sent his right wing, led by Count Schomberg
and General Douglas, forward to secure the bridge of Slane, where
some fords had been ascertained. Duke Schomberg was directed to lead
the centre in front, and William was to lead the left over a ford near
the town.

38 TRANSITION.

Count Schomberg* crossed without opposition, except from a regiment
of dragoons, which, after severe loss, gave way. The Count advanced
on the enemy, who were before him in two lines, over a field heavily ob-
structed by deep ditches in front, with a morass beyond, such as to
wholly interrupt the advance of the cavalry. The foot soldiers, how-
ever, were ordered to advance, and went forward boldly through all
these obstacles ; while the dragoons found their way round on the right.
The enemy looked on for a time in silent suspense and no little wonder,
on a proceeding which gave clear proof of the firmness and formidable
courage of the approaching enemy ; and hardly awaiting their approach,
turned, in panic flight, and were pursued with severe loss towards
Duleek.

The centre, under Duke Schomberg, met with no resistance until they
had reached the middle of the river, and were wading nearly breast high
in the water, when a hot fire from the lines and the houses met their ad-
vance. They suffered small loss, and pressing rapidly on, gained the
bank, and drove the enemy before them. Fresh battalions of Irish
came up and were repulsed in five successive attacks.

There then occurred a turn in the fight. A charge led by General
Hamilton was repulsed by the Dutch, who, while yet in some disarray,
were attacked with fury by a strong party of Irish cavalry, and com-
pelled to give way in disorder. It was but for a moment, but it spread
confusion among the Dutch ranks. The French Huguenots in William's
centre, were cut up severely by the Irish, and Caillemote, their gallant
leader, was slain. Duke Schomberg, witnessing the confusion, rushed
into the stream and rallied the French line. He pointed to their
countrymen in the enemy's ranks, and exclaimed, " Come on, gentlemen,
there are your persecutors." He had hardly spoken when he was struck
by a musket-ball and dropped dead. It is believed that the fatal shot
was from his own lines ; in the hot struggle that succeeded his charge,
he had got entangled in the enemy's retreat, and was borne with them
under the fire of his own soldiers. In the same furious melee, George
Walker also met his end. A short pause now took place. In the
foremost ranks of either party there was some disorder, in which the
fierce confusion of the foremost combatants on either side had some-
what mixed their ranks.

William had put himself at the head of the left wing, which was
composed exclusively of cavalry, and prepared to pass the river not far
above Drogheda. In crossing his charger had been forced to swim, and
had been almost lost in the mud. At this conjuncture he brought up
with him the left wing. He was soon seen in front, sword in hand, and
urging the attack. The sight gave renewed impulse to his men. The
Irish ranks gave way, but rallied, and returning, charged so fiercely as
to force the English to give ground. The king, with the coolness
which never deserted him, rode up to the Enniskilleners and asked
them "What they would do for him;" they came on with him, and
received the enemy's fire. They were joined by a Dutch company, and
both sides closed in a fierce hand to hand struggle. Here the king
was to be seen in the hottest scenes of the encounter, and had many

* Son to the Duke.

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 39

escapes. The soldiers, thus led, were inflamed to double ardour, and
could not be long withstood. The field was, for the moment, bravely con-
tested, in spite of a desperate but disorderly charge, led on by General
Hamilton ; the Irish finally gave way, and Hamilton was made prisoner.
He was asked by the king, would the Irish fight more? "Upon my
honour," said he, " I believe they will, for they have a good body of
horse." William calmly eyed the man who had betrayed him, in
the communications with Tyrconnel, and contemptuously exclaimed,
" Honour ! — your honour ! "

Had William been slain, or had this decisive struggle turned in favour
of the Irish army, there seems no reason for the conjecture that Count
Lauzun would have improved the advantages for his own master, any
more than that he looked on James as a cypher in the account. He
now advised his retreat. James sought refuge in Duleek, protected by
Sarsfield's cavalry. William lost 500 men in this crowning fight. Of
the Irish, 1,500 were slain. Lauiun kept his French troops whole for
James' protection in the retreat, which from the first he anticipated.

James arrived in Dublin, in the shame and despair of a discomfiture
which closed his prospects. There his party were confidently looking
out for his triumph ; and, in their disappointment, first thought of re-
venge on those who were yet in their power. Official authority yet lay
in the hands of James' friends, and they were bent on vindictive pro-
ceedings of every kind. It is the mitigating allowance due to James'
character that, fool and tyrant though he was, he strenuously deprecated
all vengeful and vain steps. He advised submission, and represented
William's humane and merciful character as the safest ground of re-
liance. He made, however, one excuse for his own disgrace, equally
needless and false ; his Irish subjects, he affirmed, had deserted him in
the moment of trial, and turned their backs on an enemy they might
have conquered. The false and ungrateful calumny drew upon him a
retort, which has passed into history. " But change kings," said Sars-
field, sometime afterwards, " and we will fight the battle again."

As we desire to close in this chapter the succession of events which
complete the history of this war, we will but slightly sum the immedi-
ate incidents which followed in Dublin. The Protestant party, oppressed
and humiliated by the Irish, now felt it to be their turn, and were pro-
ceeding to a violent retaliation, when Fitzgerald took a timely alarm.
A party of Irish, still believing in the success of James, and excited by
the rumoured approach of a party of their associates, had set fire to the
suburban houses. Fitzgerald caused the flames to be extinguished ; he
rushed among a rabble who were breaking into Sarsfield's house, and,
by entreaty and threat, restrained their violence. He sent messengers
to the king to ask for aid, and to hurry his presence. William, who
was approaching slowly, sent forward some troops of horse, and pre-
sently encamped at Finglass.

From thence he visited the city, and returned thanks at Patrick's
Cathedral. Returning to his camp, he received a deputation from the
Protestant clei'gy, whom he assured of protection. He published at
the same time a general amnesty for all people who should remain
quietly at home and surrender their arms. The tenants of those pro-
prietors who were not implicated in the Jacobite party, were ordered to

40 TRANSITION.

pay their rents to the landlord ; those, whose landlords had engaged in
the rebellion, were directed to reserve the payment for further orders.
Commissioners were appointed to seize the estates of those who con-
tinued in arms. Those gentlemen, after the custom of commissioners,
executed their trust with little discrimination and less mercy, thus, in
no small degree, contributing to keep the rebellion alive.

William, whose English and continental interests now called for his
presence, became earnestly desirous to put an end to the war. His force
was wasted, and his means reduced. He marched southward, and lay
before Waterford, which at first refused to yield to his summons ; but
after a few days' parley, yielded on favourable terms; the garrison being
allowed to march out unarmed. He proceeded to Duncannon fort.
There a determined resistance had been planned ; but this design was
abandoned on the appearance of Sir Cloudesley Shovel's fleet in the
Suir, on which the fort was surrendered. The appearance of a French
fleet on the English coast, and the report of a battle lost by his allies,
gave William some alarm, and for a moment determined him to leave
for England. He was soon relieved, by hearing of the departure of the
French, and by learning that the report of the battle was an exaggera-
tion, and altered his plans.

He now learned that the town of Wexford had voluntarily declared
for him. Limerick, a city of great strength, and containing the main
force of the Jacobite party, still held out as the chief obstacle to a
peace. Thither he now bent his course, much shortened in force and
in the materials of war ; and, as he soon learned, in time. He encamped
before the city, but was compelled to wait for his battering train, which
was yet on its way from Dublin. But these circumstances being made
known to Sarsfield by a deserter, he planned a night sortie to intercept
the party. The surprise was successful ; the artillery was seized, the
guns were filled with powder, their muzzles turned down into the earth,
and a train laid by which they were blown up. The report, heard over
the Province, sufficiently apprised William of his loss. He had with
him but a few field-pieces, and was forced to submit to a further im-
patient delay. His next step was to send for some guns to Waterford.
When they reached his camp he opened fire upon the city walls ; a
breach was soon effected, and a party told off for the assault. These,
in their first assault, drove the enemy before them ; the supporting party
stopped, according to their orders, at the counterscarp, but the stormers
pressed on. It had not been foreseen that the defenders would have so
soon given way ; the stormers, thus isolated, received a deadly discharge
from the city on every side, and the garrison, rallying in force, surrounded
them ; the ground was soon heaped with dead, and the survivors were
pressed on by soldiers and armed citizens, and even by the women,
intoxicated with fury. For three hours, cannon, musketry, pike, and
sword, did their work, till stone and street ran with blood, and the
assailants had, between killed and wounded, lost a thousand men.
William saw that it was necessary to put a stop to the slaughter, and
ordered a retreat. The army called loudly to renew the assault, and
the city might have been won at the cost of many hundred lives.

But the king's considerate mind was otherwise moved by several
pressing considerations. His army was wasted by loss of men, by pri-

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 41

vations, and by disease, and the rainy season was impending. The
roads would soon be deep and unfit for his heavy baggage and artillery.
With these considerations his mind was strongly impressed with an in-
creasing anxiety about his English affairs. He determined to raise the
siege and commit to De Ginckle the task of ending the war. He led
the army to Clonmel, and with Prince George, the Duke of Ormond,
and others, he repaired to Waterford and embarked for England.

Cork and Kinsale were soon reduced by Marlborough, who volun-
teered his services on condition of receiving command of a small force,
and was accepted by William. These exploits, conducted with the
ability of this illustrious commander, demand no detail, as they were
attended with no unusual result, and met no impediment sufficient to
claim our space. The success of this enterprise enabled De Ginckle to
take steps for retiring into winter quarters.

The Irish garrison in Limerick were much elated by their recent
success, and began to form immense projects for an expedition to attack
the Pale, and drive the English from the land. The French general
in that city, disgusted with his allies, who repaid his contempt with
suspicion and hate, now withdrew his force and joined other parties of
his countrymen. The sole command of the Irish remained with the
gallant Sarsfield.

During the winter season, though the fury of war slept, the condi-
tion of the country was not one of rest. The irregular Irish troops
resolved themselves into plundering bands, and infested every corner.
The original Celtic population, of which but a scanty remnant now
exists in the south and west, was then still numerous, and unreclaimed
from their primitive state. Among these there was no safety for the
peaceful or the civilized. They were, like the Indian of the forest and the
prairie, a fierce race, and are, like them, worn to a melancholy remnant.
They have transmitted to the mixed race which has followed, some fiery
virtues and some no less lively defects, doubtless a great improvement,
though not without some primitive traces of the olden time. But we
are digressing in our haste, and the subject is yet to recur.

The winter was disturbed by the plunders and the violences of both
parties. The soldiers were ill-paid and mutinous. De Ginckle had a
struggle to keep his army together. But as the season of distress
advanced, he received succour and supplies. He saw reason to regret
that he had not secured the passes of the Shannon, by which his army
would have been comparatively protected from the depredation of
roving beggars and wandering bandits, who watched their opportunity
to cut off any unfortunate stragglers from the camp.

His campaign opened with an important success. The fort of Balti-
more lay in a convenient position for whoever might possess it ; it was
strongly fortified by the enemy, and garrisoned with a thousand men.
It was summoned, and refused to submit. But when the general sent
a strong party with boats on the river to assail its more undefensible
side, the governor submitted at discretion, and the garrison were made
prisoners. The main present object of De Ginckle was the siege of
Athlone ; he thus secured a safe and convenient position of strength in
its vicinity.

On the 18th of June, he reconnoitred the town from an eminence

42 TRANSITION .

within a few mile*, and saw the position of the Irish army beyond, on
a narrow elevation between two bogs. De Ginckle's army was next day
moved forward, and the Irish, who lined the hedges, retiring before
him, poured into the town. He presently opened his fire upon the
walls, where the breach of last year's attack had been imperfectly re-
paired. A practicable breach was soon made, and the general directed
an assault. The enemy retired before his stormers after a short struggle,
and retired in panic and in such confusion, that many were precipitated
into the river. The assailants, however, soon came to a stop. The
bridge had been broken in the former siege, and was only passable by
planks laid across the chasm upon the central arch. The ford was deep,
and the English were forced to a stand-still under a heavy fire from the
opposite side. De Ginckle contrived to have planks laid down over the
broken arch, but before he could avail himself of this resource, it was
frustrated by a daring feat. A party of the enemy rushed forward to
cast down the planks from this broken arch ; they were repulsed with
slaughter by a hot fire from the besiegers, but were succeeded immediately
by twelve men in armour, who, in the shower of bullets which rained
from De Ginckle's ranks, cast down the planks ; two only of the number
retired. Once more, the general attempted to renew the same expedi-
ent more surely, by the construction of a covered gallery ; this was not
quite completed when it was set on fire by hand grenades from the
enemy. The besieging party thus foiled in repeated attempts, were
somewhat perplexed in the consideration of their next possible resource.
The river was supposed to be too deep to be forded, and was not to be
crossed by boat or pontoon in the face of the strong force on the fur-
ther bank ; and the fords at some distance were, on inquiry, found to
be strongly guarded. It seemed a case of despair. Monsieur St. Kuth
became so confident of safety, as to use expressions of triumph ; and the
English were taunted by the enemy for not having better earned the
pay they had been seen to receive.

On a council held with his officers, De Ginckle resolved to face the
danger and difficulty of attempting the river on the next morning.
Two thousand men were appointed for the trial ; the hour for relieving
guard was fixed, that the noise and movement might less attract hostile
attention. Morning came, and, on a concerted signal, the chosen ranks
entered the river, headed by their commander General Mackay, and
\ccompanied by most of the other officers of rank, French, Dutch, and
English, in De Ginckle's army, as volunteers. They were soon immersed
shoulder deep, and under a fierce fire from the bank, returned with
equal fury from their own side. In the thunder of these discharges,
the assailants forced their way and approached the hostile bank. The
Irish, who had not regarded the feat as possible, were struck with
panic, and fled in disorder as the besiegers gained the land. The Eng-
lish pursued, reached and mounted the nearest breaches. Meanwhile
another party, now unopposed, laid down planks across the broken
bridge, over which the main body marched in. It may be needless to
say that a great slaughter of the flying Irish took place. St. Ruth, on
first learning that they were crossing the river, refused to believe ; he
alleged the impracticability of the attempt, and the absurdity of the as-
sumption that they would so far presume while his army lay so near.

Sarsfield coolly told him that he did "not know the English." Tlie
Frenchman, in great vexation, ordered that these "presumptuous in-
truders" should instantly be expelled; and some useless attacks followed.
But they could not prevent the English from gaining the works op-
posite to his camp, on which the guns of the tower began to pour their
contents.

Leland mentions a fact corroborated by several intimations. " St.
Ruth had hitherto, it is said, flattered himself with the hope of reducing
Ireland to the dominion of the French monarch. He solicited the Irish
to swear allegiance to his master. All orders were issued in the name,
not of James, but of Louis. Such, at least, was the intelligence given
by deserters ; and to confirm it, the English saw, with surprise, the
standards of France waving over the town of Athlone."*

In fine, the castle and town fell to the besiegers, with the governor
and five hundred prisoners ; about 1,200 men were slain. St. Ruth
drew off his troops, execrating and execrated by the Irish. He now
collected his detachments from their different quarters, and prepared
for a decisive conflict with the English, who, he justly felt assured,
would seek him. De Ginckle repaired the fortifications of Athlone, and,
with the same intention, prepared to follow. He published a proclam-
ation offering conditions of amnesty to the Irish, by the order, rather
unwillingly given, of the Lords Justices. On the 10th of June, De
Ginckle left Athlone, and directed his march into the county of Ros-
common, where he encamped along the river Suck. He soon ascertained
that St. Ruth lay three miles away, near the hills of Kilcomedon. His
army was skilfully posted, with bogs and morasses covering their left,
near the village of Aughrim. A large bog, about a mile in breadth, ex-
tended along his front toward the right, with a ruinous tower, occupied
by infantry and entrenched, which guarded the only pass on the right.
The slopes of the hill were intersected by hedges, which were lined
with musketry. The number of St. Ruth's force was 25,000 ; of De
Grinckle's 10,000. Among the Irish, their priests were busy in exciting
their courage by exhortation and the rites of their religion.

At noon, on the 12th July, the attack was begun by moving forward
a party of Danes to gain the pass on the enemy's right ; these, however,
gave way before a party of Irish. Some English cavalry followed, they
were strongly resisted ; but were sustained by a fresh party. Fresh
reinforcements thus brought up on either side contested the pass for an
hour, when at last, the English forced their way within the bog. The
advantage was, however, doubtful ; De Ginckle's left wing was thus in
a measure isolated from his whole front, which was still intercepted by
the bog. The general hesitated, and would have deferred his attack
till next morning. Mackay's urgency prevailed for an immediate attack
upon the Irish right, as St. Ruth would thus be forced to weaken his
left, and leave the Aughrim pass more easy to force. The attack was
accordingly made at five in the evening by the English left, and boldly
resisted on the other side. After a fierce conflict, for nearly two hours,
Mackay's opinion was confirmed. St. Ruth found it necessary to sup-
port his right wing by a considerable body from his left. Mackay was

* Leland, toI. iii., p. 599.

44 TRANSITION".

prepared, and instantly detached a strong force of cavalry to attack the
pass by Aughrim Castle: at the same time several foot regiments were
ordered to cross the bog in their front, and take post among the lower
ditches, till the horse should force the pass and wheel round to join
their attack.

The infantry were soon up to the middle in the deep morass, with
difficulty making way to the opposite side. As they came near, a furi-
ous discharge of musketry opened on them from hedge and ditch.
Their progress was unstayed ; the enemy retired before them to lead
them on unawares towards their main line. The ruse succeeded. They
presently found themselves tired, few, and disordered, in presence of
St. Ruth's whole force. Nearly surrounded by an overwhelming mass,
they attempted retreat, and were driven back with loss of men and
officers into the bog.

St. Ruth exulted. " Now," he cried, " will I drive these English to the
very walls of Dublin." In the midst of his triumph, he saw with as-
tonishment the movement of the enemv's horse, which had been sent
round by the castle. They were pressing forward at their utmost
speed, under a heavy fire. In his amazement, he asked what the Eng-
lish could mean? He was answered, " to force their way to our left."
" They are brave fellows, 'tis a pity they should be so exposed," was
the brave Frenchman's comment. The English forced their way toward
his left, and were joined by the infantry, who rallied and regained the
ground from which they had been repulsed.

The English pressed on, and were bravely met. St. Ruth came
down from his post on Kilcomedon, and directed the fire of a battery
on the advancing line, and then charged at the head of his cavalry. At
this moment he was struck dead by a cannon ball. His cavalry, thus
deprived of their leader, came to a stand, and then turned back ; at the
same time the Irish foot were giving way. The charge of a body of
Danish horse on the extreme left, put to flight the bodies opposite to
their station in great confusion. This incident completed the disorder
along the whole line, and it became a rout. The infantry took refuge
in the morass, the cavalry escaped to Loughrea, and seven thousand Irish
were slain in the pursuit ; De Ginckle lost seven hundred men. The
whole baggage, artillery and ammunition, with the camp of the enemy,
fell to the conquerors.

After a few days given to rest, De Ginckle moved his force to Galway.
His object was to lay siege to Limerick, which he regarded as the final
issue of the war ; but the reduction of Galway he viewed as a first
essential step. We shall not need to enter on the detail of a siege
which cost no struggle. The first impulse of the governor of Galway
was resistance; but after a few days1 holding out, when they were dis-
appointed in the promised aid, they compared their field force of seven
weak regiments with the army of De Ginckle, crowned with the formid-
able renown of Athlone and Aughrim, and wisely consented to a
capitulation, thus leaving the English army free to seek a more equal
foe.

This last mentioned event was at first assumed in England to be the
end of the war; and was near leading to a premature withdrawal of the
army. William was at the time engaged in his campaign against the

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 45

French in Flanders ; and Queen Mary, assured that there was no
further post of strength likely to hold out in Ireland, ordered transports
to convey ten thousand foot and six hundred cavalry to his assistance
from the Irish army. Fortunately for Ireland, this operation required
many delays ; and it was resolved, meanwhile, to effect the reduction of
Limerick. Notwithstanding the fortune of the first unprosperous
attempt, the enterprise was considered to involve no difficulty.
De Ginckle seems to have estimated it more truly. He renewed
the proclamation of pardon to all who should make timely sub-
mission. His approach was favoured by the state of the town and
garrison.

The citizens and the army were variously divided. The French
treated the Irish with scornful insolence, who repaid them with bitter
hate ; their objects too were wholly different. The more timid of the
citizens feared the result of a siege, the wiser saw the vanity of resist-
ance. Among the Jacobite chiefs similar divisions existed ; but for the
most part they leaned to compromise and submission. In this state of
discouragement, the French, and the party which, with them, favoured
the designs of Louis, were encouraged by the report of a reinforcement
on its way, in 20 ships of the line, under M. Chateaurenault.

In the meantime Sarsfield, at the head of 7,000 men, crossed the
Shannon and threw himself into the city. De Ginckle called in his
garrisons, secured the passes of the Shannon, reduced some Irish gar-
risons which might cramp his communications, and advanced with
caution towards Limerick, which he reached on the 25th of August,
1691. A fierce fire was soon opened and kept up for some days, the
houses were presently burning on the besieger's side of the river. After
a continued cannonade, ample breaches were soon made. But De
Ginckle, recollecting the incidents of the former siege, and being aware
that the besieged force, French and Irish, was fully equal, if not
superior, to his own, came to the conviction that his surest course was
to convert the siege into a blockade. For this it was necessary to
cross the Shannon, in order to invest the opposite quarter of the town,
in which the citizens were still sheltered from his fire. The army was
meanwhile impatient for the assault ; the Lords Justices dissatisfied at
the delay ; and there was a report of the approach of a French fleet, to
relieve their beleaguered countrymen. It may be added that the still
more formidable approach of winter was felt to render the position of
the British force alarming.

To cross the Shannon to the Clare side was itself no less arduous
than the storming. It was to be effected by boats and rafts, and was
likely to be resisted successfully by the strong force sure to be en-
countered on the opposite bank. While the boats were in preparation,
a report was spread that the siege was about to be raised, which seemed
confirmed by the general disarray and motion apparent in the English
camp. As night concealed their movements, 400 grenadiers, followed
by a body of workmen, and supported by a strong force with a train of
artillery, marched two miles north on the river, and there securely laid
their bridge of boats ; while the grenadiers were conveyed in boats to
an island, from the other side of which the river was fordable. All
this was effected without alarming the city. A faint resistance was

46 TRANSITION.

mot on the other bank from four regiments of dismounted dragoons,
who were driven back from their position.

The enemy was taken by surprise; the sound of conflict came from
far, and conveyed no suspicion to the few who were awake to hear it.
The approach of the English aroused the Irish camp, and created panic
and wild disorder, in which, had not De Ginckle restrained the pursuit, a
great slaughter must have followed. We cannot afford to detail the
incidents of the next eight days, during which several manoeuvres were
executed by either side, and fresh dispositions made by De Ginckle for the
assault of the works by which the Thomond gate was protected. The
attack was at last made ; it was considered so hazardous by the general,
that he ordered his grenadiers not to venture too far, an order which,
in the heat of conflict, they little heeded. A desperate and bloody
struggle ensued, in which the Irish were driven back, were reinforced
from within and rallied, but at last compelled to give way. They were
arrested in their flight. A French officer who commanded the gate,
seeing the imminent danger, ordered the drawbridge to be raised. It
was a death warrant to the fugitive crowd. Suddenly checked, they
stood on their defence, and a hideous carnage followed. There were
slain on the spot 750 Irish ; several prisoners were taken. Of the
English, 20 privates were killed, and 60 wounded. The result was
that the garrison, cut off from the country and from its horse, began to
think seriously of capitulation, and next day they beat a parley on both
sides of the town.

We pass the lesser details of the negotiation. Some very serious
differences protracted the discussion. Terms were proposed by Sars-
field which were wholly inadmissible, and which, if granted, must have
renewed the ancient disorder, and restored a state inconsistent with
any constitutional government. De Ginckle's answer was the re-erection
of his battery, on which it was requested that he would propose his own
terms. In answer he sent twelve articles which formed the basis of
capitulation.

The historical interest attached to the civil portion of these articles,
induces us to incorporate them with this chapter to some extent, ac-
cording to their more or less permanence of interest, or the further ques-
tions they may have led to.

The lords-justices arrived on the 1st October, and on the 3d, the
articles were signed in two parts. One, relative to the surrender of
the town, and signed by the military commanders on either side : the
other relative to the privileges and concessions to the Irish, signed by
the civil authorities, and several of the Irish nobility and gentry. The
event occurred most providentially but a clay or two before the arrival
of a fleet in Dingle bay, sent by the king of France to relieve the city.
It amounted to eighteen ships of the line, or frigates, six fire-ships, and
twenty large transports, with ten thousand stand of arms, two hundred
officers, and three thousand soldiers. The result would have had for
its least consequences another campaign, with a winter of extreme
distress to both parties, and a vast amount of added loss, slaughter,
and suffering, through the entire country. The result, indeed, can
hardly be pronounced with certainty. The historical interest, attached
to the civil portion of these articles, leads us to insert them here with-

out any mutilation: the military articles, to the number of twenty-
nine, may be seen in Harris's appendix,* as well as in many other works
of extensive compilation.

" In consideration of the surrender of the city of Limerick, and other
agreements made between the said lieutenant-general Grinckle, the go-
vernor of the city of Limerick, and the generals of the Irish army,
bearing date with these presents, for the surrender of the said city, and
submission of the said army, it is agreed, that,

" First, The Roman catholics of this kingdom shall enjoy such pri-
vileges in the exercise of their religion, as are consistent with the laws
of Ireland, or as they did enjoy in the reign of king Charles II. ; and
their majesties, as soon as their affairs will permit them to summon a
parliament in this kingdom, will endeavour to procure the said Roman
catholics such further security in that particular, as may preserve them
from any disturbance upon the account of their said religion.

" Secondly, All the inhabitants or residents of Limerick, or any
other garrison now in possession of the Irish, and all officers and sol-
diers now in arms, under any commission of king James, or those au-
thorized by him, to grant the same in the several counties of Limerick,
Clare, Kerry, Cork, and Mayo, or any of them. And all the commis-
sioned officers in their majesties' quarters that belong to the Irish regi-
ments now in being, that are treated with, and who are now prisoners
of war, or have taken protection, and who shall return and submit to
their majesties' obedience ; and their and every of their heirs shall hold,
possess, and enjoy, all and every their estates of freehold and inherit-
ance ; and all the rights, titles, and interests, privileges and immunities,
which they, and every or any of them held, enjoyed, or were rightfully
and lawfully entitled to, in the reign of king Charles the II., or at any
time since, by the laws and statutes that were in force in the said reign
of king. Charles the II., and shall be put in possession, by order of the
government, of such of them as are in the king's hands, or in the hands
of his tenants, without being put to any suit or trouble therein ; and
all such estates shall be freed and discharged from all arrears of crown-
rents, quitrents, and other public charges incurred, and become due
since Michaelmas 1688, to the day of the date hereof; and all persons
comprehended in this article, shall have, hold, and enjoy all their goods
and chattels, real and personal, to them, or any of them, belonging, or
remaining either in their own hands, or the hands of any person what-
soever, in trust for, or for the use of them, or any of them. And all,
and every the said persons, of what profession, trade or calling soever
they be, shall, and may use, exercise and practise, their several and re-
spective professions, trades and callings, as freely as they did use, ex-
ercise and enjoy the same in the reign of king Charles the II., provided
that nothing in this article contained, be construed to extend to or
restore any forfeiting person now out of the kingdom, except what are
hereafter comprised : provided also, that no person whatsoever shall
have or enjoy the benefit of this article, that shall neglect or refuse to
take the oath of allegiance, made by act of parliament in England in
the first year of the reign of their present majesties, when thereunto
required.

* No. 63.

48 TRANSITION.

" Thirdly, All merchants, or reputed merchants of the city of Limer-
ick, or of any other garrison now possessed by the Irish, or of any town
or place in the counties of Clare or Kerry, who are absent beyond the
seas, that have not bore arms since their majesties' declaration in Feb-
ruary, 1688, shall have the benefit of the second article in the same
manner as if they were present : provided such merchants do repair
into this kingdom in the space of eight months from the date hereof.

" Fourthly, The following officers, viz., Colonel Simon Lutterel, Cap-
tain Rowland White, Maurice Eustace of Yermanstown, Chievers of
Maystown, commonly called Mount Leinster, now belonging to the
regiments in the aforesaid garrisons and quarters of the Irish army,
who were beyond the seas, and sent thither upon affairs of their respec-
tive regiments or the army in general, shall have the benefit and ad-
vantage of the second article, provided they return hither within the
space of eight months from the date of these presents, submit to their
majesties' government, and take the above-mentioned oath.

" Fifthly, That all and singular the said persons comprised in the
second and third articles shall have a general pardon of all attainders,
outlawries, treasons, misprisions of treason, premunires, felonies, tres-
passes, and other crimes and misdemeanours whatsoever, by them, or
any of them, committed since the beginning of the reign of king James
the II., and if any of them are attainted by parliament, the lords-justices
and generals will use their best endeavours to get the same repealed by
parliament, and the outlawries to be reversed gratis, all but writing
clerks' fees.

" Sixthly, And whereas these present wars have drawn on great
violences on both parts ; and that if leave were given to the bringing
all sorts of private actions, the animosities would probably continue,
that have been too long on foot, and the public disturbances last ; for
the quieting and settling therefore of this kingdom, and avoiding these
inconveniences which would be the necessary consequence of the con-
trary, no person or persons whatsoever, comprised in the foregoing
articles, shall be sued, molested, or impleaded, at the suit of any party
or parties whatsoever, for any trespasses by them committed, or for
arms, horses, goods, money, chattels, merchandizes, or provisions what-
soever, by them seized or taken during the time of war. And no per-
son or persons whatsoever, in the second or third articles comprised,
shall be sued, impleaded, or made accountable for the rents or mean
rates of any lands, tenements, or houses, by him or them received, or
enjoyed, in this kingdom, since the beginning of the present war, to
the day of the date hereof, nor for any waste or trespass by him or
them committed in any such lands, tenements, or houses : and it is also
agreed, that this article shall be mutual and reciprocal on both sides.

" Seventhly, Every nobleman and gentleman comprised in the said
second and third article, shall have liberty to ride with a sword, and
case of pistols, if they think fit ; and keep a gun in their houses, for
the defence of the same, or for fowling.

" Eighthly, The inhabitants and residents in the city of Limerick,
and other garrisons, shall be permitted to remove their goods, chattels,
and provisions, out of the same, without being viewed and searched,
or paying any manner of duties, and shall not be compelled to leave

the houses or lodgings they now have, for the space of six weeks next
ensuing the date hereof.

" Ninthly, The oath to be administered to such Roman Catholics as
submit to their majesties' government, shall be the oath abovesaid, and
no other.

Tenthly, No person or persons who shall at any time hereafter break
these articles, or any of them, shall thereby make, or cause any other
person or persons to forfeit or lose the benefit of the same.

"Eleventhly, The lords-justices, and general, do promise to use their
utmost endeavours, that all the persons comprehended in the above-
mentioned articles, shall be protected and defended from all arrests and
executions for debt or damage, for the space of eight months next ensu-
ing the date hereof.

" Twelfthly, Lastly, the lords-justices and general, do undertake,
that their majesties do ratify these articles within the space of eight
months, or sooner, and use their utmost endeavours that the same shall
be ratified and confirmed in parliament.

" Thirteenthly, And whereas Colonel Brown stood indebted to several
protestants by judgments of record, which appearing to the late govern-
ment, the Lord Tyrconnel, and Lord Lucan, took away the effects the
said John Brown had to answer the said debts, and promised to clear
the said John Brown of the said debts ; which effects were taken for
the public use of the Irish, and their army ; for freeing the said Lord
Lucan of his engagement, past on their public account, for payment
of the said protestants, and for preventing the ruin of the said John
Brown, and for satisfaction of his creditors, at the instance of the
Lord Lucan and the rest of the persons aforesaid, it is agreed, that
the said lords-justices, and the said baron De Ginckle, shall intercede
with the king and parliament, to have the estate secured to Roman
Catholics by articles and capitulation in this kingdom, charged with,
and equally liable to the payment of so much of the same debts, as
the said Lord Lucan, upon stating accounts with the said John Brown,
shall certify under his hand, that the effects taken from the said John
Brown amount unto ; which account is to be stated, and the balance
certified by the said Lord Lucan in one and twenty days after the date
hereof ;

" For the true performance hereof, we have hereunto set our hands,"

Char. Porter.
Tho. Coningsby.
Bar. De Ginckle.
Present

SCRAVENMORE.

H. Maccay.
T. Talmash.

" And whereas the said city of Limerick hath been since in pursu-
ance of the said articles surrendered unto us, — Now, know ye, that
we having considered of the said articles, are graciously pleased hereby
to declare, that we do for us, our heirs, and successors, as far as in us
lies, ratify and confirm the same, and every clause, matter, and thing
therein contained. And to such parts thereof, for which an act of

II. D Ir.

50 TRANSITION.

parliament shall be found necessary, we shall recommend the same to
be made good by parliament, and shall give our royal assent to any bill
or bills that shall be passed by our two houses of parliament to that
purpose. And whereas it appears unto us, that it was agreed between
the parties to the said articles, that after the words Limerick, Clare,
Kerry, Cork, Mayo, or any of them, in the second of the said articles,
the words following, viz : — ' And all such as are under their protection
in the said counties,' should be inserted, and be part of the said articles.
Which words having been casually omitted by the writer, the omission
was not discovered till after the said articles were signed, but was
taken notice of before the second town was surrendered : and that our
said justices, and general, or one of them, did promise, that the said
clause should be made good, it being within the intention of the capitu-
lation and inserted in the foul draught thereof. Our further will and
pleasure is, and we do hereby ratify and confirm the same omitted
words, viz : — ' And all such as are under their protection in the
counties,' hereby for us, our heirs and successors, ordaining and de-
claring, that all and every person and persons therein concerned, shall
and may have, receive, and enjoy, the benefit thereof, in such and the
same manner, as if the said words had been inserted in their proper
place, in the said second article ; any omission, defect, or mistake, in
the said second article, notwithstanding. Provided always, and our
will and pleasure is, that these our letters patent shall be enrolled in
our Court of Chancery, in our said kingdom of Ireland, within the
space of one year next ensuing. In witness, &c., Witness ourself at
Westminster, the twenty-fourth day of February anno regni regis et
reginse Gulielmi et Maria? quarto per breve de privato sigillo. Nos
autem tenorem premissor. predict, ad requisitionem Attornat. General,
domini regis et dominaa reginse pro regno Hibernios. Duximus exempli-
ficand. per presentes. In cujus rei testimonium has literas nostras fieri
feciraus presentes. Testibus nobis ipsis apud Westmon. quinto die
Aprilis annoq. regni eorurn quarto."

Bridges.

Examinat 'per nos J LaC0nE\Vm. Childe, \ In canceL Metros.

By the military articles, there was secured a full permission for such
Irish officers and soldiers as might be so inclined to go beyond seas
into any country they might think fit (England and Scotland excepted)
with their families and moveable property of every description. And
by several distinct and specific articles, all the essential provisions to
facilitate such a removal were for the time secured. It next became
a matter of anxious effort on the part of Sarsfield and the French
officers, to bring away with them the greatest number they could of
the Irish soldiers, while on the other side, De Grinckle had to exert a
vigilant superintendence to prevent the application of constraint. The
Irish generals contrived to lock up these men, who were carefully
guarded : and large distributions of money, brandy, and other articles
of value were made to induce their consent. A lieutenant-colonel who
was confined for refusing to go to France, wrote a letter of complaint
to De Grinckle, who thereupon commanded a battery to be planted on

Ball's Bridge, and in his resentment declared that " he would teach the
Irish to play upon him." On this Sarsfield came out to the camp to
expostulate, and concluded by saying that he was in De Ginckle's
power. " Not so," replied the general, " but you shall go in again and
do the worst you can." Sarsfield put a reasonable face on the matter,
and showed that they had simply exercised military control over their
own officers for misdemeanours. It is not, however, improbable, that
the accusation was true. It is also asserted by historians, that at this
very time, one of the strong incentives made use of in working on the
Irish, was the promise of return in the following year to revenge their
defeat : a suggestion so adapted to excite and keep alive a pernicious
spirit of disaffection and turbulence, and so opposed to the principle of
the treaty just concluded, that if true, we cannot conceive treachery
and deception carried much further. Sermons in accordance with the
principles of their priesthood in that day of bigotry, were preached,
to assert the duty of adherence to the French, and the " certain dam-
nation which would be the consequence if they joined with heretics."
A course of proceeding, which, we must say, converts into the most
impudent mockery all the complaints of party- writers, on the assumed
infringements of the treaty of Limerick.

On his part the general put forth a counter declaration, assuring
them " how willing he was to indulge and provide for such, who, re-
maining in the kingdom, or serving their majesties abroad, had rather
promote the British and Irish interest, than the designs of France
against both. He therefore promised, that all officers and soldiers,
who were inclined to return home, should have leave to do so with all
their goods and effects, and should be permitted to live quietly under
the protection of the government. That though by the capitulation
all the troopers of the Irish army (except 600 that had license to go
abroad), were to deliver up their horses without payment, yet he gave
to the troopers and dragoons leave to sell them to whom they thought
fit, and promised to pay them for their arms, upon their giving them
up to the artillery officers, either in the Irish town of Limerick, or in
the camp ; and the same to the foot- soldiers : That those officers and
soldiers who were willing to serve under their majesties, should have
quarters immediately assigned them, and subsistence till their majes-
ties' further pleasure : and as it has been industriously reported that
such of the Irish as should enter into their majesties' service, were to
be sent into Hungary, and other remote parts, contrary to their inclina-
tions, he concluded by assuring them, that they should not be obliged
to serve in any place against their wills, nor be constrained to take
service in Ireland, or to return to their homes, they being at full liberty
to choose what side they would take ; but if once they went to France,
they must never expect to return home again."

This declaration was distributed among the Irish, who were drawn
together by their commanders. They amounted to 14,000 effective
men. Adjutant-general Withers was commissioned to lay before them
the advantages in favour of the English service, and to point out that
it was unnatural to serve France against the independence of their
own country. The whole body were reviewed on the county of Clare
side, and De Ginckle with his generals crossed over to see them. They

were then ordered to march, and a point was marked where those who
were inclined to stay at home, were to file off from those who were to
depart. The royal regiment, to the number of 1400, went on for
France, with the exception of seven men : " which," says Harris, "gave
general Ginckle much concern, for they were the best corps in king
James' service." Some regiments and several parties of regiments also
declared for France. But Lord Iveagh's regiment of Ulster Irish,
Colonel Wilson's, about half Lord Louth's, and great numbers out of
nearly every other regiment, came out and filed off for the English
service. These latter were then mustered, and provision was made for
their subsistence.*

Some efforts were made to diminish the ill effect of the articles
which thus permitted such numbers of the Irish to enter into a foreign
and hostile service. The lords-justices contrived to dismiss the prisoners
who were kept at Lambay, to their homes, without informing them of
the treaty. This step was unquestionably as much for the advantage
of these men, as for that of the state: nor can we admit that the treaty
demanded more than the absence of compulsion : the government was
not bound to second, in any way, the gross delusion of which so many
unhappy poor people were made the victims. Yet on the other side,
it must be admitted, that it is so easy to find specious reasons for the
violation of every political principle, that if public faith is of any
moment, there should be no excuse admitted for the slightest deviation
from the strict and literal observance of treaties. Less equivocal in its
character was the obstacle which Count Nassau threw in the way of
this embarkation for France, by preventing the wives and children of
the emigrants from being shipped. This was a direct infraction of the
first article of the treaty : on which Sarsfield wrote to De Ginckle to
remonstrate, and represented, " that as hitherto they had proceeded on
both sides with sincerity, so relying on his Excellency's honour, and
the public faith, they expected to be dealt withal without forcing or
wresting any meaning out of the articles, contrary to agreement and
the general sense of them ; which candid manner of proceeding," says
he, "will add to the reputation of your arms, that of your justice." f
On this De Ginckle consulted with the lords-justices, and they agreed
that the desire of Sarsfield was just and should be conceded.

It remains to mention the fate of these men. They were embarked
for France in French and English vessels during the month of Novem-
ber. On the return of the English ships after landing the Irish at
Brest, they reported that they had received every assistance they
wanted in the French port ; but that the Irish were not so well treated
as they expected to be. They received a congratulatory letter in the
name of the French king, full of splendid promises of pay, clothing,
and quarters : but the crippled performance limped far behind these
liberal words. They were quartered in lanes and hedges under the
wintry air of December, and excluded, to a man, from the city of Brest.
Nor was their treatment confined to mere bodily suffering and priva-
tion, which the Irish know well how to endure ; their pride, the
tenderest point with Irishmen of every degree, was insulted. It was

i

* Harris. t Ibid.

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 53

perhaps quite inconsistent with the conventions of the polished and re-
fined school of the French service, that soldiers, such as the Irish
actually were, by the accident of a party-war and utterly untrained,
perhaps too somewhat behind in point of manners and education,
should take rank in the French service according to their casual eleva-
tion at home. But the most exquisite malice could not have invented
a more unlucky blow to the pride of these brave and high-minded,
though rude men, than the order which degraded every officer, from
the general down to the corporal, one step in military rank. The
effect of this mixture of slight and neglect was quickly shown : num-
bers of these men endeavoured to obtain their passage back, and such
as had the means offered large sums; so that guards were soon set
over them, and the masters of vessels forbidden on pain of death to
receive them. Their letters were however not stopped, and soon
spread a strong reluctance among those who had not yet embarked :
great desertions took place from the troops still remaining with Sars-
field at Cork, and three regiments turned out together and peremp-
torily refused to embark.

This caused Sarsfield and Waucop to determine against any further
delay, and on the 22d of December, they hurried all that remained
under their charge on board. On this occasion it lias been noticed that
they themselves had recourse to a mixture of force and fraud, to de-
prive these unfortunate dupes whom they led, of the benefit of the very
article for which they had so recently contended ; " having," says
Harris, on the authority of a correspondence to which he refers, " pub-
lished a declaration, ' giving liberty to as many of the Irish as pleased
to transport their families along with themselves.' Accordingly, vast
numbers of all sorts came to the waterside, when Waucop pretended
to ship the soldiers in order, according to their lists. They first carried
all the men on board, and when the boats returned for the officers, the
women catching hold to be carried to the ships, many of them were
dragged off, others through timorousness losing their holds were
drowned, while those who held faster had their fingers cut off and
perished in the sight of their husbands." * No excuse can be made for
this awful scene of fraud and cruelty.

By these events a final period was put to the war. Ireland was re-
duced to her usual state of unprogressive stagnation, occasionally
broken by the cry of discontent, the murmur of rising disaffection, and
the terror or the reality of popular risings, at intervals corresponding
nearly with the successive generations of Irishmen. Of the causes of
this hapless and anomalous constitution, we shall abstain from the
notice, so far as the honesty of our purpose admits. _ We have already,
in the progress of our labour, arrived at that point which most Irish
historians have justly viewed as the termination of their task. Some
have chosen to pass down to modern times. With us (from the nature
of our undertaking) this is no matter of choice, but of necessity ; but
wlun the few lives worthy of mention, which have relation to some one
or other of the preceding events shall be exhausted, which cannot re-
quire many pages, we consider that the nature of our task will be in

* Harris.

many respects changed. Our memoirs will become more strictly bio-
graphical, and less historical ; and literature will begin to occupy the
place of primary importance, hitherto assigned to politics.

V

POLITICAL SERIES.

ROGER MOORE, OR O'MORE.

DIED A. D. 1643.

In writing the lives of numerous persons, of whom most are to be
chiefly distinguished for the several parts which they sustained in the
same succession of events, it would be as vain as it would be embarrass-
ing to preserve the unbroken order of history. We are at pvery fresh
life compelled to look at the same main events, with the choice of
changing the aspect and suppressing or expanding the details, as they
become more or less the appropriate accessories to the principal figure,
which is to occupy the foreground of narration. Something, how-
ever, we have effected to counterbalance this necessity, by the adop-
tion of a double order of arrangement; following the succession of
deaths as a general guide, to keep a just preservation of the course of
generations — on a smaller scale we have endeavoured to be guided by
the succession of events ; in this, placing the contemporary individuals
as nearly as we might, so as to preserve the true sequence of their
historical existence. Thus though often entangled in the necessary
repetition of minor incidents, without any regard to order, the greater
and more cardinal events will be found in their true places, and com-
paratively freed from the encumbrance of needless repetition. And
the same necessity of preserving a biographical form, renders it neces-
sary to introduce, among our notices of the more important and weighty,
some persons and some historical facts not strictly within the scope of
mere biography

In one of the letters of the great earl of Chesterfield to his son,
he advises, in reading history, the especial study of troublous and
revolutionary periods, as alone furnishing a sufficiency of lessons
useful to the statesman and philosopher. However this may be,
it is undeniable that such epochs are vastly richer in political bio-
graphy than the calmer events in the life of nations. The opportuni-
ties for the display of energy are during them more conspicuous, and
the incentives immeasurably more powerful. Personal qualities influ-
ence more markedly the course of events, and form the material of his-
tory, as well as its salient points and landmarks. This remark holds
especially true of Irish lives. The centre of authority being out of the
island, it is chiefly when that authority is menaced or imperilled that
local actions rise into historical importance, and local character assumes
dignity. And of all the perturbations with which its annals are rife,
the great rebellion which began in 1641, and terminated in 1657,
forms in this respect no exception, partly from the reaction of ex-
haustion which followed the excitement of the wars of Elizabeth, partly

ROGER MOORE. 55

from the dead level which it had been the policy of Stafford to establish,
and partly because that rebellion itself was, on one side, the culmina-
tion of efforts that had long been in preparation, and of feelings that
had long been smouldering, but were by it only first brought to light.

In commencing, therefore, the political series of Lives of this division
of our work, we shall find the dearth of great local names between
those that distinguished the close of Elizabeth's reign and its outbreak
sufficiently accounted for in these considerations, and find it convenient
also, for the sake of historical clearness, to give the first place to those
who figure on the side which began and sustained this tragic outbreak.

The author of a pleasing and popular work on the principal inci-
dents of our history, has somewhere described this rebellion as a great
and fearful tragedy in three acts. The comparison is valuable for its
perfect truth. The first brief act in this terrible drama is brought out
into prominent relief in the course of the biography of Roger O'More,
lightened up in its details by the actions of Sir Philip O'Neile, recorded
in the subsequent memoir. The arrival in Ireland of Owen O'Neile,
and the events that followed in the succeeding memoir of this great
rebel, is coincident with its second long act. At the rising of the cur-
tain he stands before the scene. The third and last is developed in a
series of memoirs, and more fully detailed in that of the great duke of
Ormonde.

Roger Leix, known chiefly as Roger Moore or O'More, was the re-
presentative of the ancient family of this name, in the province of
Leinster. The names of his ancestors have frequently occurred in
Irish history. A sept bordering upon the English pale must have been
exposed to the constant effects of those mutual aggressions, which slight
occasions were ever sufficient to provoke from either side. And as the
English power became ascendant before the secret of this ascendancy
was fully comprehended by the Irish, the spirit of opposition continued
until the retaliations of the government became more decisive and over-
whelming. The native leaders, looking on their numbers, and on the
experience of previous encounters, little calculated on the consequence
of a more regulated and deliberate direction of the English force, and
inadvertently pushed their aggressions to extremity. With a fallacious
confidence in their own strength, and ignorance of the real resources
of the government, they continued to present a front of resistance, till
they drew upon themselves utter destruction.

In the reign of Mary, the O'Mores had been expelled from their pos-
sessions; and we must assent to the general sense of our authorities,
that there was in this violent and extreme proceeding a very consider-
able mixture of injustice and deception. The result was a hereditary
enmity to the English — a passion in its fullest violence inherited by
Roger Moore.

Having passed some years of his youth in Spain, he was, while
there, chiefly conversant with those Irish or their descendants who
had taken refuge in that kingdom after the rebellion of the earl of
Tyrone, and who naturally cherished the recollections of their ances-
tral honours, and of the wrongs which they attributed to the English;
these sentiments were inflamed by the national enmity of Spain, which
had for the course of the last generation burned against England with

a violence unabated by occasional intervals of alliance and peace. The
humiliations of reverse are relieved in some measure by the recollec-
tions of the "times of old;" there is a dignified character in suf-
fering for a great cause, and a romantic grandeur in the resentment
of national wrongs. The companions of Moore — young men of enter-
prising spirit and military ambition — were invested with the honours
of misfortune ; and living among a romantic and ardent people, learned
to feel their own proud importance as patriots, and as the sufferers of
adversity in a noble cause. Such was the congenial atmosphere in
which the ardour of Roger Moore caught fire. But his was not a
spirit to waste its fervour in the peaceful ostentation of suffering hero-
ism. While his enthusiastic spirit was inflamed by the traditions of ten
thousand wrongs, and exalted with the glory of a noble line, his en-
terprise was roused, and his active and ready intellect was stimulated to
projects of revenge, and for the recovery of his possessions. Among his
companions who fed themselves with resentment and hope, there could
be no want of breasts to respond to this excitement, and Moore met
encouragement, applause, exhortations, and promises of assistance.
Above all, his designs met encouragement from the son of the late
unfortunate Hugh O'Neile. O'Neile had obtained a regiment in the
Spanish service : he was looked up to by his countrymen at home and
abroad with feelings something similar to those with which the des-
cendants of Stuart were regarded in England and Scotland.

This temper was additionally excited by the agency of deeper and
wider causes. Years before the rebellion, lord Strafford received infor-
mation from M'Mahon, an Irish priest, that a general insurrection in
Ireland was designed, and that great exertions were making to obtain
foreign assistance. As the time drew nigh similar warnings flowed
in from the residents in every foreign court. And the Irish lords-
justices received an intimation from the English cabinet, " that there
bad passed from Spain, and other parts, an unspeakable number of
Irish churchmen to England and Ireland, and some good old
soldiers, under pretence of raising levies for the king of Spain ;
and that it was whispered by the Irish friars in that kingdom, that
a rebellion was shortly expected in Ireland, particularly in Con-
naught."*

In Ireland the insurrection was mounting to the point of combustion.
The agents mentioned in the despatch of secretary Vane were not
remiss in their labour of love; and Moore was not less industrious or
successful in conciliating, inflaming, concentrating, and organizing the
spirits and the resources of Irish patriotism. He was indeed emi-
nently qualified for the office; his mind was endowed with all the
nobler tones of the Irish character ; he had imagination to exalt and
dignify, enthusiasm to animate and warm, eloquence to communicate :
his high bearing and graceful address could win the eye, and his frank
and earnest patriotism strike corresponding flashes from the simple and
ardent hearts of his countrymen. Though not gifted with solid and
practical wisdom — he was quick, ingenious, and penetrating, and

* Carte, Letter xviii. Vol. Ill,

possessed that instinctive insight into character which enabled him to
seize upon the master passion of his hearer, and avail himself of the
motives by which each individual was most likely to be influenced.
With these qualifications for the task of awakening insurrection, he was
also gifted with a humane and honourable temper, which had he been
a wiser man, would have checked his career, and restrained him from
the application of that fatal brand, which it cost so many years of blood
and gall to quench ineffectually. But Moore was a creature of romance,
his dream was the vindication of national rights, and he fondly
thought that armed violence could be limited by the feeble barriers of
justice, honour, and humanity. With the advantage of a popular
manner and prepossessing exterior, he quickly won the hearts of the
common people: he was extensively and highly connected with many of
the noblest families of the pale, and maintained a familiar intimacy with
the noblest of the English race. His influence was thus easily extended
into every quarter, and there was no circle in which he had not means
to try his way, and if possible, insinuate disaffection. With all these
advantag-es he gained a rapid ascendancy.

Anions: his kindred and friends he found some whom their fortune
and tempers recommended more especially as fit objects for hispurposes :
Richard Plunket, a son of Sir Christopher Plunket, Maguire lord
Iniskillen, MacMahon, Philip Reilly, and Tirlogh O'Neile. To each
of these he presented the suggestions most adapted to their several
characters and positions: to all he urged the facilities and probabili-
ties in favour of a general rising. He advised that each should endea-
vour to gain over his own friends to the project: and that they should
hasten their preparations for declaring themselves in a few months,
when the approach of winter should lessen the danger of any interfer-
ence from England. Of the first overtures which he made to these
conspirators, a minute account has been given by lord Maguire : from
this we shall here give a full extract, as the most satisfactory state-
ment which can be obtained of the beginning of this most disastrous
rebellion : — " Being in Dublin, Candlemas term last was twelve
months, 1640, the parliament then sitting, Mr Roger Moore did write
to me, desiring me that, if I could in that spare time, I would come
to his house, for then the parliament did nothing but sit and adjourn,
expecting a commission for the continuance thereof, their former com-
mission being expired ; and that some things he had to say to me that
did nearly concern me ; and on the receipt of his letter, the new com-
mission for continuing the parliament landed, and I returned him an
answer that I could not fulfil his request for that present ; and there-
upon he came himself to town presently after, and sending to me, I
went to see him at his lodging. And after some little time spent in
salutations, he began to discourse of the many afflictions and sufferings
of the natives of that kingdom, and particularly in those late times of
my lord Strafford's government, which gave great distaste to the whole
kingdom. And then he began to particularize the sufferings of them
that were the more ancient natives, as were the Irish: now that on
several plantations they were all put out of their ancestors' estates.
All which sufferings, he said, did beget a general discontent over all

the whole kingdom in both the natives, to wit, the old and new Irish.
And that if the gentry of the kingdom were disposed to free them-
selves furtherly from the like inconvenience, and get good conditions
for themselves, for regaining their ancestors' (at least a good part
thereof) estates, they could never desire a more convenient time than
that time, the distempers in Scotland being then on foot ; and did ask
me what I thought of it?

" I made him answer, that I could not tell what to think of it ; such
matters being altogether out of my element. Then he would needs
have of me an oath of secrecy, which I gave him, and thereupon he
told me that he spoke to the best gentry of quality in Leinster, and a
great part of Connaught, touching that matter ; and he found all of
them willing thereto, if so be they could draw to them the gentry o.
Ulster: for which cause, said he, I came to speak to you. Then he
began to lay down to me the case that I was in then, overwhelmed in
debt, the smallness of my estate, and the greatness of the estate my
ancestors had, and how I should be sure to get it again, or at least a
good part thereof.* And moreover, how the welfare and maintaining
the Catholic religion, which, he said, undoubtedly the parliament now in
England will suppress, doth depend upon it: for, said he, it is to be
feared, and so much I hear from every understanding man, the parlia-
ment intends the utter subversion of our religion; — by which persua-
sions he obtained my consent. And so he demanded whether any
more of the Ulster gentry were in town. I told him that Mr Philip
Reilly, Mr Tirlogh O'Neile brother to Sir Phelim O'Neile, and Mr
Cossloe MacMahon, were in town; so for that time we parted.

" The next day he invited Mr Reilly and I to dine with him ; and
after dinner he sent for those other gentlemen, Mr O'Neile and Mr
MacMahon, and when they were come, he began the discourse, for-
merly used to me, to them; and with the same persuasions formerly
used to me, he obtained their consent. And then he began to dis-
course of the manner how it ought to be done, of the feasibility and
easiness of the attempt, considering matters as they then stood in
England, the troubles of Scotland, the great number of able men in
the kingdom, meaning Ireland: what succours they were to hope for
from abroad: and the army then raised, all Irishmen, and well armed,
meaning the army raised by my lord Strafford against Scotland.
First, that every one should endeavour to draw his own friends into
that act, and at least those that did not live in one county with them.
And when they had so done, they would send to the Irish in the low
countries, and in Spain, to let them know of the day and resolution :
so that they would be over with them by that day or soon after with a
supply of arms and ammunition, as they could: that there should be a
set day appointed, and every one in his own quarters should rise out
that day, and seize on all the arms he could get in his county; and
this day to be near winter, so that England could not be able to send

* Fortuna ea omnia victoribus prannia posnit, the true old secret of rebellion, how-
evei the outside may be ornamented with the dream of liberty, and the pretence
of patriotism.

ROGER MOORE. 59

forces into Ireland before May, and by that time tbere was no doubt
to be made but that they themselves should be supplied by the Irish
beyond seas, who, he said, could not miss of help from either Spain or
the Pope."* Such was the plan proposed by Moore ; but lord Maguire
informs us that the company did not entirely adopt his proposal. They
resolved not to stir in the matter until they should first have ascer-
tained how far they might depend on having help from the continent.
They were also desirous to have the advice and consent of the gentry
through Ireland. On this point Moore urged, " that it was to no pur-
pose to spend much time in speaking to the gentry: for that there was
no doubt to be made of the Irish, but that they would be ready at any
time," &c. Among other things he told them, that there was a great
man whose name for the present he was sworn to conceal ; but who
would not fail them if the rising should begin. This was lord Mayo,
as he declared on a pledge of secrecy from lord Maguire and the rest
of the company.

From this, Moore continued to exert his utmost efforts, while the
other principal parties, just mentioned, held themselves in reserve,
according to the views they had taken. Their caution was not yet
overcome, and they were resolved not to commit themselves, until they
could ascertain the security for success and safety. Moore proceeded
soon after into Ulster, where he hoped to meet many of the gentry at
the assizes; but meeting few, and not finding the readiness he ex-
pected, the utmost that could be determined was the postponement of
further proceedings, till the following May, when the conspirators,
should meet in Dublin. In the mean time, a message from the earl of
Tyrone came from Spain, to confer with the members of his family
and name, and inform them that he had obtained the cardinal Rich-
lieu's promise to send arms, ammunition, and money, on demand, to
Ireland : and that he himself only awaited the favourable moment to join
them, and desired them to be ready.f This message quickened the
dilatory, and gave new life to their proceedings. When they met in
Dublin, Mr Moore, Reilly, lord Maguire, and his brother dispatched
the messenger (Neile O'Neile) back to Spain, to announce their deter-
mination to rise on " twelve or fourteen days before or after All
Hallowtide, as they should see cause, and that he should not fail to
be with them at that time."!

In the mean time, the earl of Tyrone was killed. On receiving con-
firmation of this afflicting intelligence, Moore sent off one father
Connolly, the priest of the parish in which he lived, to colonel Owen
O'Neile. Further incidents soon occurred to favour the views and
quicken the resolution of the conspirators. Intelligence was received
of severe proclamations against the members of the church of Rome,
in England, and of the hostile declarations of the Scots against that
communion. A permission from king Charles to levy men for the
Spanish service, and an order to transport for the purpose, the Irish
regiments then in Ireland, set these leaders actively to work ; they set

* The relation of Lord Maguire.
t Lord Maguire's Narrative. X R>id-

60 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

on foot a violent clamour against the removal of the army, on the ad-
herence of which they relied, and they also availed themselves of the
occasion to levy troops as if for Spain. In this, Plunket already
mentioned, Hugh Byrne, the wrongs of whose father we have already
related, and an officer of the name of O'Neile, volunteered their ex-
ertions. To these, Sir James Dillon added his exertions, and gave
his concurrence and the weight of his name. From this gentleman,
lord Maguire learned the design entertained by himself and his
branch of the conspiracy, which was to devote the force they were
raising to the defence of the Irish catholics against the Scots; they
were to begin by seizing on the castle, where they expected to find
abundant supplies of arms and military stores. On their arrival in
Dublin, a meeting was held between the principal conspirators and
the colonels of the army, who were thus engaged in the same enter-
prise. At this meeting they discussed the points: how they should
secure money to pay the soldiers; how they should obtain foreign
succours ; how they should draw in the gentry of the pale ; who
should undertake to surprise the castle, and how it should be
attempted. To these points it was respectively answered: that the
rents should be collected to pay the soldiery, and that the Pope had
promised Tyrone to maintain 6000 men at his own charge ; for foreign
aid, the promises of the Spanish ambassador in London were alleged ;
for the gentry of the pale, colonel Plunket answered that they would
not be found slow to join in their arms; the seizure of the castle was
undertaken by colonels Plunket and Bourne. This meeting was held
"in the end of August, 1641, or beginning of September."* And
as these colonels were to surprise the castle with no more than 100
men, Sir James Dillon pledged himself to join them in a few days,
after they should have succeeded, with 1000 men. It was thought
that once seizing the castle, they could command the town with its
artillery.

While farther meetings and messages were going on, and the conspi-
rators were yet doubtful when to rise, they received an intimation
through Mr Moore, from Owen O'Neile, desiring them to rise without
further loss of time, and that he would join them on fourteen days' notice.
There nevertheless appears still to have been much irresolution, indi-
cated by numerous abortive meetings and desultory resolutions. At
last, on the 5th October, the principal conspirators resolved to attempt
the castle on the 23d, which being a market day, the concourse of
people would less attract the notice of the government. To the
question, as to the leaders in this enterprise, Moore replied that he
would be one, and colonel Bourne another; the castle he observed
had two gates, that the Leinster men should undertake the small gate,
and the Ulster men the other. Sir Phelim O'Neile and lord Maguire
attempted to excuse themselves from being present, but Moore in-
sisted. Sir Phelim pleaded the necessity of being away to seize upon
Londonderry; but Maguire was compelled to give his consent to be
present.

* Lord Maguire's Narrative.

It was a necessary part of their plan, and, in the existing1 condition
of the English garrisons, not unlikely to be crowned with success,
that they were similarly, and at the same time, to obtain possession of
every important place of strength.

By simultaneous movements on the same day, Londonderry, Carrick-
fergus, and Newry, were to be surprised, and directions were to be
circulated through the country, that the gentry should everywhere
rise and seize upon the nearest forts.

On the 22d, one day before that fixed for the attack, the conspira-
tors assembled in Dublin, and met to weigh their strength, and settle the
proceedings for the next day. Of 200 men they had counted upon,
but 80 had arrived, and it was proposed to delay the attack until the
afternoon, to give time for others to come in.

But while they were thus concerting their plan, other incidents
were taking place elsewhere.

The council had already received warning from Sir William Cole,
of many suspicious indications, such as were sufficient to satisfy all
intelligent persons, who were not stupified by the opiate atmosphere
of the Castle, that something unusual and dangerous was afloat. The
movements of Sir Phelim O'Neile and lord Maguire had been observed.
But the Castle crew were unwilling to be roused from the placid
slumber of office, and were content to recommend watchfulness to
others. On the eve of the rebellion, however, they received a warning
not to be trifled with, with impunity.

Owen Conolly, a servant of Sir John Clotworthy, on the evening of
the 22d, was seized by the watch, and brought to lord-justice Parsons,
and disclosed to him the whole particulars of the conspiracy. Par-
sons disbelieved the story, it carried the appearance of exaggeration,
and it was apparent that the informant was considerably affected by
intoxication. He told his tale confusedly, and his answers seemed not
consistent. Parsons, perhaps to get rid of him, desired him to go and
obtain further discoveries. On cool reflection, however, he thought
it expedient to consult with lord Borlase, to whom he forthwith re-
paired, though it was ten o'clock at night. Borlase, saw the matter
in a stronger light, and blamed his colleague for letting O' Conolly go.
O' Conolly was however easily found. He had not gone far before
his intoxication attracted the notice of the sentinels, and he either was
detained or remained for safety. He was found by the messenger of
Borlase. He had become a little more collected, but as he was not
yet perfectly coherent in his statement, he now represented that his
head was affected by the strong potations which had been forced upon
him, but that if he were permitted to lie down for a little, he could
explain all clearly. He was sent to bed, while the lord Borlase sent
round to summon as many of the council as could be found. They
were soon joined by Sir Thomas Rotheram, and Sir Robert Meredith
the chancellor of the exchequer. Orders were sent to secure the
city gates, and strengthen the castle guard, while the lord mayor and
city officers received directions to have all persons watched who should
appear in the streets.

In the mean time, O' Conolly became collected, and detailed the
particulars contained in the following document: —

62 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

"Examination of Owen 0 'Conolly.

"Who being1 duly sworn and examined, saith; That he being at
Monimore, in the county of Londonderry, on Tuesday last, he received
a letter from colonel Hugh Oge MacMahon, desiring him to come to
Connaught in the county of Monaghan, and to be with him on
Wednesday or Thursday last. Whereupon he, this examinant, came
to Connaught on Wednesday night last, and finding the said Hugh
come to Dublin, followed him thither; he came hither about six of
the clock this evening, and forthwith went to the lodging of the said
Hugh, to the house near the boat in Oxmantown, and there he found
the said Hugh, and came with the said Hugh into the town, near the
Pillory, to the lodging of the lord Maguire, when they found not
the lord Maguire within, and there they drank a cup of beer and
went back to the said Hugh's lodging. He saith, that at the lord
Maguire's lodging, the said Hugh told him, that there were and would
be this night great numbers of noblemen and gentlemen of the Irish
papists, from all parts of the kingdom, in this town ; who, with him-
self, had determined to take the castle of Dublin, and to possess them-
selves of all his majesty's ammunition there to-morrow morning, being
Saturday. And that they intended first to batter the chimnies of said
town, and if the citizens would not yield, then to batter down the
houses, and so to cut off all the protestants that would not join with
them. He further saith, that he the said Hugh told him, that the
Irish had prepared men in all parts of the kingdom, to destroy all the
English inhabiting there to-morrow morning by ten of the clock ; and
that in all the seaports and other towns in the kingdom, all the
protestants should be killed that night, and that all the posts that
could be, could not prevent it. And further saith, that he [O'Conolly]
moved the said Hug'h to forbear executing of that business, and to
discover it to the state, for saving of his own estate, who said, that he
could not help it: but said, that they did owe their allegiance to the
king, and would pay him all his rights ; but that they did this for the
tyrannical government that was over them, and to imitate Scotland,
who had got a privilege by that course. And he further saith, that
when he was with the said Hugh in his lodg-ing, the said Hug-h swore
that he should not go out of his lodging that night, but told him that
he should go with him next morning to the castle ; and said, if this
matter were discovered, somebody should die for it. Whereupon the
examinant feigned some necessity for his leasement, went down out
of the chamber, and left his sword in pawn, and the said Hugh sent
his man down with him: and when this examinant came down into the
yard, and finding an opportunity he, this examinant, leaped over a
wall and two pales and so came to the lord-justice Parsons.

(Signed) " William Parsons, ^

"Thomas Rotheram, > Owen O'Conolly
"Robert Meredith, )

"Oct. 22, 1641."

ROGER MOORE. 63

While this examination was going on, MacMahon and others were
Becured ; many however escaped seizure, and of those who were taken,
some contrived to get away. MacMahon, when brought before the
council, spoke plainly. He seems to have relied on the assumption
that the insurrection was successful in every other part of the kingdom.
It was five in the morning, and he told them " that on that very day,
all the forts and strong places in Ireland would be taken." — " That he
with the lord Maguire, &c, &c, were come up expressly to seize the
castle of Dublin, and that 20 men out of each county in the kingdom
were to be there to join them. That all the lords and gentlemen in
the kingdom that were papists, were engaged in the plot; that what
was that day to be done in other parts of the country, was so far
advanced by that time, as it was impossible for the wit of man to
prevent it. And withal told them, that it was here they had him in
their power and might use him how he pleased, but he was sure he
should be revenged."

It is mentioned, that while MacMahon was waiting in the hall,
he was observed to amuse himself with chalking out the figures of
men hanging on gibbets, or lying prostrate on the ground. The act
was probably designed to convey a threat, by the only means left at
the moment.

While the justices were yet at lord Borlase's dwelling-, at Chichester
house in College green, then without the city gates, they were found
by Sir Francis Willoughby, the governor of the fort of Galway.
Arriving that evening he found the gates shut and noticed an unusual
appearance of movement and bustle in the surrounding suburbs. Being
apprised that the justices were there he hastened to find them.

He informed them that he had found the country quiet along his
way ; but that there . was a very considerable concourse of strange
horsemen pouring into the suburbs. And advised their removal into
the castle.

The lords-justices, having removed into the castle at Willoughby's
advice, appointed him commander of the castle and city. And sent
out a proclamation into all parts of the country to put the peaceful
and loyal on their guard.

" Thus," observes Carte, " by the hand of Providence rather than
by the care of the government, was defeated a design, easy in the
execution, and which, if it had taken effect, would have endangered
the whole kingdom." The castle was guarded by eight infirm soldiers
and forty halberdiers, and contained 1500 barrels of powder, with
ball and other arms in proportion, and 35 cannon.*

We must for the present refer the subsequent events to other
memoirs, and return to Moore. On the night of the incidents above
narrated he made his escape, and directed his course to Ulster, where
he thought his presence most necessary. While there he is supposed to
have been the author of a manifesto which shortly after made its appear-
ance, stating the complaints of the Roman catholics and their motives
in taking arms. Such documents need not be here quoted, as in all such

* Carte.

cases, they can only be regarded as specious, and for the purpose of
giving the fairest or most popular outside to a cause. With regard to
Moore, we believe him to have been sincere in all that he professed,
and far from the execrable purposes which have been imputed to many
engaged in that rebellion. His wish was but justice, according to the
notions he entertained, and he had chimerically assumed that justice
could be executed strictly, and humanity preserved by the sword of
insurrection — a dream, which has often deluded the enthusiastic and
high-minded, who little know or are capable of knowing the instruments
they must use and the passions they are about to awaken. In his
manifesto, Moore dwelt upon the oppression of the Roman catholics
by inferior governors — acknowledged that they had been indulged
with liberty of conscience, by the favour of the king; but complains
of the fears which they had reason to entertain from the landing of
the Scots, who were expected to land " with sword and Bible," for
the extinction of the Roman catholic religion in Ireland. They com-
plain of a design against the " papist and protestant bishops of the
kingdom," and propose " that the king should secure them and the
Protestants of this kingdom," &c. We have quoted the above words
from this paper for the purpose of showing- the peculiar ground which
was at first taken up by the more moderate of Moore's party. And
it is necessary to notice, that the word protestant is often used by
the Roman catholics in their writings of that period, in contra-dis-
tinction from the puritans.

It appears indeed, plain enough, from the general tenor, both of
the public declarations and conduct of Roger Moore and his associates,
that they neither designed nor anticipated the frightful scenes which
were to follow. Rebellion as it advances, rapidly numbers in its ranks
all the extreme views and all the atrocious passions of human nature.
As the movement advances, it grows broad and deep; and its con-
stituent elements become more fierce, unrefined, and base. The
philosophers and politicians, the soldiers, scholars, and gentlemen, are
soon pushed aside to make way for the ruffianly and reckless spirits,
which ever take the lead in popular movements ; and such was the
course of these events which are now so long to fill our pages.

Moore's activity and genius had propagated an impulse, which was
ere long to escape from his control. On the other side, the dangei
was increased by the incapacity of government, and the want of all the
ordinary resources of civil control; there was neither justice, prudence,
nor vigour, to meet it at the source. Instead of a formidable resort
to military means or a fair disposition to redress reasonable com-
plaints, a strife of intrigue and insidious negotiation commenced the
contest. The memorials presented to the king were mixed with com-
plaints against the lords-justices ; these in their turn sent private state-
ments to the earl of Leicester ; and their statements were largely
mingled with misrepresentation. They also harassed and impeded
the proceedings of the parliament which was sensible of the approach-
ing crisis, and disposed to act with spirit tempered by moderation.

If, indeed, it may be said with truth, that the insurgent party were
ignorant of the consequences which they were to draw upon themselves

ROGER MOORE.

65

and their country, there seems every reason to suspect that the Irish
government was equally infatuated. They either underrated the dan-
ger, (the common error of governments,) or they ignorantly wished
to push the rebellion to an extremity of which they computed the ad-
vantages. The errors were probably concurrent. The result was an
effort to impede such information as might be expected to bring suc-
cour from England, and to check the loyalty of the well-affected.
They had with difficulty been prevailed upon to call a parliament ;
and when it had assembled, they were so anxious to get rid of it, that
they would hardly allow time for a vote of supply. The parliament
drew up a spirited declaration against the rebellion, and appointed
agents to inquire and report the state of matters to the king and
council; but they were not allowed the time required for the comple-
tion of this proceeding. A second day was allowed on much entreaty
by the obstinacy of the lords-justices. And the parliament, finding
itself suspected, or divining the real motive, and resolved on discharg-
ing its duty to the public, passed a vote empowering them to levy
forces for the defence of the kingdom, and to raise money by assess-
ment for the purpose.

Lord Dillon of Costello was appointed to present a memorial to the
king, containing complaints against the lords-justices, and recommend-
ing the appointment of the earl of Ormonde. It is also probably con-
jectured,* that they recommended the adoption of those just measures
for the security of property, which could not fail to be unacceptable
to the party then at the helm. But the industry of the castle was alert
in the vocation of intrigue. In the very same packet which conveyed
lord Dillon with his commission, the agent of Parsons and Borlase
conveyed their counter-statements and their representations of the
design and characters of the opposed part of the council, whose
names are given by Carte and others — Sir Richard Bolton the lord
chancellor, Bulkeley, archbishop of Dublin, earl of Ormonde, An-
thony Martin, bishop of Meath, John Leslie bishop of Raphoe, Robert
lord Dillon of Kilkenny West, afterwards lord Roscommon, and Sir
Gerard Lowtb,er, judge of the common pleas. These persons who
were for acting by the only rational and just way, and employing
military rigour to suppress violence, and legislative justice to quiet just
discontents, were denounced by the narrow and self-interested lords-
justices, whose representations were but too successful. Declaring their
distrust in the eminent persons whom we have enumerated, and the
danger of employing any force levied in Ireland or commanded by
Irishmen, they entreated for an English army, of which they proposed
to supply the expense by confiscations-!

The packet was met by a storm, and cast upon the Scottish coast.
Lord Dillon and lord Taaffe, the agents of the moderate party, while
proceeding on their way to London, were seized at Ware, and their
papers taken from them and suppressed: after which they were con-
fined for some months, until their escape was considered of no conse-
quence.

* Carte,

f Carle, I. 228.

IT.

E

Ir.

06 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

This conduct of the lords-justices gave encouragement to Roger
Moore and his party. The prorogation of the parliament left them
without any counter-check ; the refusal of the Irish government to
permit the activity of the native leaders who had volunteered against
them, left them in possession of the field. The selfish policy adopted by
the castle junto, threw a heavy weight of just complaints into the scale
in their favour. Their cause seemed to prosper, and they were advanc-
ing in confidence and numbers. Moore lay near Dundalk and Ather-
dee, with a body of 2500 men, so undisciplined and unarmed that they
could have been of no use in the field. They were yet, in the absence
of all resistance, sufficient to give the appearance of strength; and
their confidence was increased by a commission from parliament sent
to treat with them. In their infatuation they treated this overture
with a contempt which indicates plainly enough their confidence in
themselves. Moore (so far as we can form any conjecture,) was not
quite the dupe of this vain confidence : he was by far too well informed,
observant, and prudent, not to be aware that his present strength lay
in the absence of an enemy. He strongly urged the folly of declara-
tions against the English, which the rabble who followed him had
indulged in, and advised that they should mainly rest their cause on
religious grievances. With this view he also gave them the dignified
title of Catholic Army, a seasonable artifice, and equally illustrative
of his enthusiasm and dexterity. There never was a more disas-
trous pretext for Ireland, or more fortunately adopted for the views
of the rebel leaders. It not only served to conceal the secret mo-
tives and put them out of view, but tended to attract to their stand-
ard many who would most resolutely have opposed them; and above
all, it embodied the real grievances of some of the most considerable
bodies in the kingdom. The priesthood were counted on as their
most efficient and trusty friends; and the Roman catholic lawyers,
whose influence pervaded the Irish aristocracy, and whose profes-
sional employment was restricted by the oaths they were required to
take, were also to be conciliated. The English parliament had pro-
ceeded with a harshness against the English Roman catholics, which
added motives of terror to those of grievance; and Parsons had been
said to declare in a large company, that " within a twelvemonth not a
catholic should be seen in Ireland."

Such were, in brief, the circumstances which gave to Moore's expe-
dient the force of a universal call to arms, and subsequently led to the
most hapless direction of popular fanaticism — a fatal instrument, which
has never been successful for good, though it has often forged an iron
crown, and riveted the chains of those who are its dupes: under its
insane influence — the lunacy of nations — deeds have been done, of fear,
desperation, and blind resentment, which the plain rule of justice,
unsusceptible of refined distinctions, must for the interests of mankind
treat as guilt; although the decision of the historian, who is allowed
to weigh men's actions in the balance of determining motives and causes,
may temper his judgment with the palliation of error, infatuation, and
the panic of insane excitement, which, when it seizes the crowd, seems
to awaken and concentrate the worst passions of man's nature into

ROGER MOORE. G7

something more fierce and formidable than belongs to any other known
'iving species.

The violent proceedings of the English commons, and the policy of
the rebel leaders, as here described, was rendered still more productive
of evil by the first measures of the lords-justices. While they repelled
the aid of the nobility and gentry of Ireland, they had recourse to that
of persons who were recommended by their thorough participation in
the views and prej udices of their employers. A soldier of fortune trained
in the former rebellion of Ulster, led a small force against a party of
rebels which had invested the castle of Wicklow. . These were easilv
repelled ; but the soldiers of the lords-justices committed the most
unprovoked outrages upon the people of the town, and thus gave a
premature specimen of the mercy to be expected from these men.
They sent an undisciplined body of 650 men to the relief of Drog-
heda, and thus aft'urded the rebel leaders the opportunity of a triumph,
which served to increase and encourage their followers. And, lastly,
they crowned the offence which their whole conduct had given to
tlie Roman catholic lords of the pale, by an insulting exhibition of
distrust.

These noblemen, sensible of the approaching commotion and of
their own dangerous and questionable position, between their own
party and a suspicious and bigoted administration, chose their course
with decision and prudence. They prepared at once to embark in the
cause of order, loyalty, and the constitution. They had already joined
in the vain effort to urge the castle to its duty: they now offered their
services. They were met by shallow iusidiousness and demonstrations
of treachery, too thinly disguised to escape detection ; their offers
were refused, they were neither allowed to fight for the protection
of the state, nor in their own defence: they were desired to stand
out naked and defenceless, spurned by one side and a mark for the
other. They were disarmed, menaced, and insulted; and withal, the
course of things was such as to render it quite evident that the
creed which made them objects of all this degradation, must soon
assume the form and character of crime. Their position was one of
extreme trial; and their conduct is here to be reviewed with humane
allowance.

Of these circumstances, favourable for his purpose, Roger Moore
was on the watch to take advantage. The lords of the pale met and
sent a temperate letter of remonstrance, in which they adverted to the
rejection of their services against the rebels, and complained that
language had been used in council such as to deter them from waiting
upon the lords- justices, &c. To this the lords-justices replied by a
proclamation, in which they denied the alleged words; and presently
summoned the lords Fingal, Gormanston, Slane, Dunsany, Netterville,
Louth, and Trimleston, to attend at a board, on the 1 7th December,
that they might confer with them.

On this, the lords thus summoned, with the principal gentry of the
county of Meath, assembled to consult on the hill of Crofty. They had not
long been there when they were approached by Roger Moore, attended
by coljnel MacMahon, and other rebel gentlemen, with a guard of

musqueteers. The lords of the pale rode out to meet them, and lord
Gormanstou asked why they thus entered the pale in arms? Roger
Moure replied — They came, he said, to vindicate their liberty of con-
science: that they were armed in defence of the king's prerogative
which had been invaded; and also with the design to make the Irish as
free as the people of England. On this lord Gormanston asked if
these were their genuine designs ? — whether they had not some other
private ends of their own? This Moore denied: on which lord Gor-
manston rejoined that these were their common interests, and that they
would join them. And all present having agreed, a warrant was there-
upon drawn up and issued to the sheriff, to summon all the lords and
gentry of the county, to a general meeting in the next week upon Tara
hill.

We shall have again to enter into a minute detail of the incidents here
briefly noticed. As the insurrection thus mainly raised by the instru-
mentality of Roger Moore acquired more numerous and powerful
leaders, his instrumentality becomes less apparent. Colder hearts and
wiser heads — motives more profound, long-sighted, and corrupt — more
exasperated passions took their usual places in the council of interested
and angry spirits. As they gather in numbers and authority, dissension
and divided counsels rose up among them; and the power, influence,
and personal ambition of individuals, became ruling springs of the
conduct of the party. We may then shortly pass to the end of Moore's
career.

The rebellion had, as we have already said, as it extended, yielded to
the common law of all unorganized and irregular movements ; it lost
power as it gathered numerical weight, and was weakened by the
varied opinions, principles, and objects, of its influential movers. The
English commons, though little disposed to waste their strength upon
this country's tumults, and misled by opposite representations, began
to supply the means of opposition, men, money, and stores, though with
a parsimony ill suited to the state of affairs. However, by the skill,
promptness, and bravery, of many distinguished officers, the tide began
to be turned, and the rebels became considerably distressed. The
Irish chiefs were on the point of abandoning a cause which they began
to think hopeless, when their courage was rallied and their hopes
revived by the long desired arrival of colonel Owen O'Neile. To
increase it still further, several vessels from France landed abundant
supplies of arms and ammunition, and a considerable Irish force, with
numerous officers who had acquired experience and reputation in foreign
service.

Of this advantage, the first use made by the Irish was an effort to
i;ive authority and method to their proceedings. The details of this
change we are compelled to reserve for a memoir yet to come in its
order. The clergy saw their time : they also saw the necessity of in-
fusing order into confused movements, of establishing some source of
civil rule, of directing desultory efforts, and of controlling the fierce-
ness of fanaticism. They convened a synod in Kilkenny, and framed
a body of acts, among which the principal provided for a national con-
vention of deputies to meet for the government of the country. This

ROGER MOORE. G9

assembly met, and gave form, and for a time vigorous instrumentality
to the proceedings of the rebellion. They made declarations, consti-
tuted authorities, appointed councils, and distributed commands.

In the division of commands, the first movers were passed by: —
persons of desperate fortune and active spirit may be permitted to
embrace a desperate cause. But they must be set aside, when the
appearance of success brings forward more wary and prudent obser-
vers, whose means and authority enable them to give weight to the
cause, and render the declaration of their sentiments desired.

Moore began to sink in spirits and health as he fell in estimation
and influence. His enthusiasm had been damped by the disapprobation
of the conduct and slow progress of a war of which he now began to
discern the true course. His humanity and gallantry had been shocked
by the savage and brutal spirit which began to manifest itself among
the rebels, and which neither his zealous opposition, nor that of other
commanders, men of honour and humanity, had the power to control.
He had been discontented and disgusted ; and after the siege of Drog-
heda, withdrew to Flanders. At that affair he had been attacked by his
own party for attempting to control their brutality. After the conven-
tion, which established a supreme council at Kilkenny, he returned only
to find himself wholly set aside by inferior persons, who dreaded his
energy, and were jealous of his commanding character. They thought
it necessary to soothe his bitterness and appease his wounded pride by
empty show of respect. He soon fell ill, and died in Kilkenny, and his
death is not without reason attributed to mortification.

" He was," writes Carte, " a man of a fair character, highly esteemed
by all that knew him, and had so great a reputation for his abilities
among the Irish in general, that he was celebrated in their songs ; and
it was a phrase among them, ' God and our Lady be our assistance, and
Roger Moore.' He exceedingly detested the cruelties committed by
the Irish in Ulster; and when he afterwards got to Sir Phelim O'Neile,
he did all he could to stop them, and to establish a regular discipline
among his mobbish army."*

We shall have but too many occasions to present many and varied
details of the disgusting and flagitious atrocities of this long rebellion,
of the commencement of which we have given a slight sketch. But
we cannot forbear taking this occasion to offer one observation as to
the cause of these revolting enormities, which our perusal of the his-
tory of Irish rebellions has strongly suggested. The laws which make
the rebel a criminal amenable to a species of summary justice, not
extended to ordinary crimes, or executed by the laws of the land, are
perhaps quite defensible on the ground of abstract theory, nor can we
object to their strict justice. But they answer no good or expedient
purpose ; and fearfully aggravate the horrors and calamities of civil
war. They do no good; the rebel marches to the field in defiance of
death, and in anticipation of a different result : the law which makes a
traitor of him is simply vindictive, it never deterred a single rebel
from the field. Its real effects are twofold: to the rebel's discontent it

* Carte.

70 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

adds other incentives, the fury of desperation and revenge ; he considers
capture or the failure of his cause as certain death, or ruin wyrae, than
death. This, however, if it were all, would not call for our notice; — -
the great evil is the vindictive spirit of the cruel and savage retaliation.
The military execution, even when attended with the most rigid regard
to justice and humanity, is not viewed as justice by those who, right or
wrong, consider justice to be on their own side, and are little capable
of entertaining distinctions. For every prisoner who is judged as a
criminal, and meets a felon's death, some victim is sure to suffer. Thit
victim may be also a prisoner, and the retaliation may for a time be
conducted with military order, and not pass the strict limit of a
balanced account. So far the evil bears on the troops employed bv
government, and renders their capture somewhat different in its result,
from that of regular war. But by degrees, when rebellion happens to
be protracted, other conditions arise. The forces on both sides become
highly inflamed with the irritation to which many varied causes and
incidents will inevitably give birth. Executions become more sum-
mary and more vindictive, brutal tempers (never wanting to the purest
cause,) are brought into authority, and excesses are committed by angry
soldiers: these unhappy and fatal demonstrations, which do no honour
to a cause, are not allowed to remain unbalanced in the account of
blood; executions of criminal or of suspected persons, inflicted without
discretion are repaid by massacres without discrimination or mercy.
And as every phase of civil disturbance brings its appropriate spirits
into the field, the country becomes a scene of diabolical outrage
against every claim of humanity.

The evil is increased by the want of prudence and vigour on the
part of governments, which so often has been observed to precede
rebellion. In their first alarm, the civil powers give way too far, and
instead of meeting the evil in its commencement, rather oppose the
loyal parties than those whom they have most reason to fear. Among
the most common and dangerous errors thus committed, that which
most aggravates the ills here noticed, is the mistake of disarming those
who are the persons mainly to be defended, and who are sure to be
the first objects of attack. This has been too frequently done, by
regulations which bear unequally, on the peaceful and disorderly ; no
precaution of an Irish government has ever extended so far as to spoil
♦he equipments of a rebel army.

SIR PHELIM O NEILE.

BORN A. D. 1G04. — EXECUTED A. D. 1641.

StH Pvtelim O'Neile, of Kinard, in Tyrone, was, at the time whicli
brings him into historic notice, the principal person of his name in
Ireland. He was grandson of Sir Henry O'Neile, who was slain in
the action against Sir Cahir O'Doherty, in 1608. The services of Sir

Henry had been acceptable to the government, and he had received a
grant of the district called Sir Henry Gage's country.* On his death
Sir Phelim was found to be his next heir. On coming of age, he
applied to have a new grant, specially naming the lands which were
comprised in more general designations in his grandfather's grant;
on which, in 1629, a new instrument was made out according to his
desire.

He entered as a student at Lincoln's Inn, and while in England
professed the protestant religion; he is, however, believed to have
changed on his return. Having entered on his property, he soon
launched into a career of waste and dissipation, and did not cease
until he had nearly wasted his ample property; which he was com-
pelled to encumber almost to its full value. In consequence, he was
for some years exposed to embarrassments, which seldom fail to cor-
rupt and harden persons of strong passions and weak understanding,
and add no small amount of vice to those follies of which they were the
result.

Hugh, earl of Tyrone, died in 1616, leaving a son, who was married,
but had no children. Sir Phelim, who was considered next heir, had
thereby a new and vast prospect opened to his ambition. Roger
Moore found him thus prepared to listen with eager avidity to pro-
posals which were gilded in perspective, with the title and princely
possessions of Tyrone. Such were the hopes with which Sir Phelim
became the most active partisan of the proceedings of 1641, and
entered on a course which soon led him to the scaffold.

In the first movements of 1641, while the insurrection was yet but
in its projection, Sir Phelim's -house was a central resort for the
meetings of the conspirators; thither Moore, and Plunket, and lord
Maguire used to come ; and from thence messengers were soon
observed to be dispatched to all quarters of the compass. Such was
the information given by Sir Wm. Cole, in a letter to the lords-justices,
on the 1 1th October, 1641 ; and we find it confirmed in lord Maguire's
narrative, who mentions that he was asked to attend the funeral of
Sir Phelim's wife, with a view to " confer with Sir Phelim touching
all these proceedings." Sir Phelim next appears as one of the five who
met in Dublin to plan the seizure of the castle; on which occasion
Maguire and a few more were seized, while the main conspirators
escaped.

Some time in the same month, Sir Phelim achieved an exploit which
exhibits his character in no honourable point of view. It has been
already mentioned, that on the first meetings of Sir Phelim with Moore
and his associates, it was planned, on the same day that the castle was
to be surprised, to obtain by similar means, possession of all the forts
and garrisons in the provinces. It was allotted to Sir Phelim to secure
the forts and garrisons of Ulster. Of these, Charlemont fort was
under the command of Sir Tobias Caulfield, lord Charlemont, then a
very old man. Sir Phelim was his neighbour, and as such was on the
most intimate footing of hospitable intercourse, as hospitality was

* Carte.

1 1 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

practised in those simple old times. This intimate friendship vv;.s
now perceived by the low-minded tact of Sir Phelim to offer an occa-
sion of honourable enterprise: by availing himself of the open hospi-
tality and unguarded confidence of the unsuspecting old soldier, he
saw that he might secure a bloodless triumph. In accordance with
this dexterous project, he sent word to the old lord, "that he would
come a-gossipping to him." The veteran was delighted at the prospect
of a cheerful company, the feast was prepared, and tke cordial wel-
come was not wanting. Sir Phelim came with frank smiles on his
countenance, and ruthless perfidy in his breast. He was, accord. ng
to the custom of the day, attended by a company of friends ; and
others of the same honourable stamp fell in in small parties during the
evening. It was advanced in the evening, and the cup had gone its
repeated rounds among those guests, whom it warmed with no generous
feeling; when Sir Phelim saw the moment, and gave the signal by
laying his hands on his astonished host. The unfortunate nobleman
had not an instant to recover from his surprise, or to doubt whether it
was a drunken frolic, or a rough impulse of rudeness, when he saw all
the members of his family and household seized in like manner, by the
ruffians among whom they were seated. Sir Phelim was not a man
to soften a rough act by the gentleness of the execution; when the last
restraints of honour and decency are thrown aside, the bad passions
are summoned up to give the needful courage. The act of violence
was accompanied by the most revolting indignity, and followed by the
basest acts of meanness and atrocity. Sir Phelim ransacked the castle,
and appropriated the valuable property of his victim. The victim was
bound and shut up in close confinement for fifteen weeks. We must,
however, follow him to his unworthy and unprovoked fate.

His soldiers had been secured by means similar to those we have
related; and, with their officers, were either killed or imprisoned. We
have no means of ascertaining their fate, but it may be conjectured from
the following incident. After the earl had for upwards of four months
lain in prison, with his mother, sisters, and brothers, Sir Phelim sepa-
rated him from them, and sent them away to Killenane, the house of
Laurence Netterville. The unhappy lord received this cruel depriva-
tion, as the warning of danger, and showed no small earnestness to
retain about his person some one on whom he might rely. Having
entreated that Major Dory should be left with him, Sir Phelim answer-
ed, and the answer must have sounded strangely from his false tongue,
that Major Dory was a traitor ; but added the assurance that he should
"have better company before night." Before night he was committed
to the charge of Captain Neile, Modder O'Neile, and others of the
same name and stamp, to convey him to Cloughonter castle. He was
hurried off without delay; at night-fall the company and their prisoner
reached Sir Phelim's own castle of Kinard. It was a place aptly chosen
for the murder of one whose hospitality he had outraged. They were
entering the hall door, where the victim had often entered as an hon-
oured and welcome guest, when the concerted signal was spoken.
Captain Neile M'Kenna of the Trough in Monaghan, who walked on one
side of the baron, turned to Edmund Roy O'Hugh, Sir Phelim's foster-

brother, and said " where is your heart now?" O'Hugh answered the
signal by discharging his gun into the back of the old man, who, receiv-
ing the contents, exclaimed, "Lord have mercy on me," and fell dead
across the threshold of his betrayer. The crime was followed up by
another as revolting. On the same night a number of Sir Phelim's own
tenants and servants, who were English and Scotch, were massacred
by the same abandoned band of ruffians. Among the murdered was a
son of Sir Phelim's, whose mother was an Englishwoman.

This tragic incident took place 1st March, 1641. A curious story
is told by Lodge or his commentator, from some old book. We shall
add it here in the words of the teller. On the perfidious visit of Sir
Phelim which we have just described, when the company were met,
" The Butler, an old and trusty servant, remarked that the assassin
with his accomplices and the noble family, made up the odd number
of thirteen; and observed with dread and concern, that the murderers
had often changed their seats and their countenances, with the excep-
tion of the bravo himself, who kept his place on the left hand of lord
Caulfield as he was wont to do, being an intimate acquaintance. The
butler took an opportunity, whilst they were at dinner, to acquaint his
lady with the causes of his uneasiness ; telling her that he dreaded
some direful event. She rebuked his fears, told him he was supersti-
tious, asked if the company were merry, and had every thing they
wanted. He answered that he had done his duty; they all seemed
very merry, and wanted nothing he knew of but grace ; and since her
ladyship was of opinion that his fears were groundless, he was resolved,
through a natural impulse he felt, to take care of his own person.
And thereupon instantly left the house, and made the best of his way
to Dublin."*

Such was the first exploit of Sir Phelim O'Neile. On the same
night many similar successes were obtained, but none by means so
base. From Charlemont fort O'Neile proceeded to Dungannon, which
he surprised and seized without any resistance; the castle of Mount-
joy was surprised by one of his followers; Tanderage by O'Hanlon;
Newry was betrayed to Sir Con Magennis ; Roger Maguire, brother to
lord Maguire, overran Fermanagh ; lord Blaney's castle, in Monaghan,
was surprised by the sept of MacMahon, and the lord with his family
made prisoners by the MacMahons. In Cavan, the insurrection was
headed by Mulmore O'Reily, sheriff of the county, and all the forts
and castles seized by the posse comitatus, under the pretence of legal
authority and the king's service. His example was followed by the
sheriff of Longford. Insurrection had not as yet put forth its horrors,
neither had its vindictive spirit been inflamed, nor the fanaticism which
was to infuse its fiendish character at a further stage, as yet been
called into action. It was as yet an insurrection of lords and gentle-
men; nor is there any reason to believe, that any thing more was
designed by these, than a partial transfer of property, and certain
stipulations in favour of the church of Rome.

By these successes, Sir Phelim soon found himself at the head of an

* Lodge.

74 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

army of 30,000 men, and of ten counties. On the 5th of November,
he took up his head quarters at Newry, and endeavoured to give a legal
colour to his conduct, by the declaration, that he took up arms by the
authority, and for the service of the king. To authenticate this preten-
sion, he exhibited a parchment to which he had cunningly appended a
great seal, which he contrived to obtain while at Charlemont fort, from
a patent of lord Charlemont's. This fact was afterwards proved, both
by the confession of Sir Phelim, and by the production of the very
patent a few years after, in a lawsuit in Tyrone assizes, where the
marks of the seal having been torn away, together with an indorse-
ment to the same effect, confirmed this statement.*

In the mean time, no measures of a sufficiently decisive nature were
taken against the rebels. The lords-justices appear to have been infatu-
ated by some fallacious security, and perhaps were diverted from a
sense of their danger by interested speculations of the future conse-
quences of rebellion. Such speculations are, indeed, but too likely to
have arisen; for it was only the after events of the long civil wars in
England, that prevented the rebellion of 1641 from following the
ordinary course of former rebellions. But so far were the lords-
justices from manifesting any true sense of the emergent position of
events, that they not only acted remissly themselves, but interposed to
prevent the activity and courage of such noblemen and gentry of the
pale as were inclined to arm in their own defence. The earl of Or-
monde volunteered his service, and pressed earnestly to be allowed to
lead whatever men they could spare him against the rebels. This was
not acceded to; and the lords-justices, pressed by the remonstrances
of every loyal tongue, contented themselves by sending a regiment to
the relief of Drogheda, which was then besieged by 4000 rebels.

The English parliament was still less desirous of giving peace to
Ireland. The rebellion favoured their views, and could, they knew,
be suppresed whenever it suited their own purposes to send an army
into the country. It gave them, however, a pretext for the levy of
men and money to be employed against the king, and of this they
availed themselves largely.

The pale, and the protestant nobility and gentry, were thus left to
their own courage and means of resistance. They quickly threw off
their fears and their false security, and took up arms in their own
defence. Their resolution and energy, however great, were in some
measure paralvzed by the uncertain conduct of the king, and by the
false pretences of the rebel leaders, who assumed his name and autho-
rity. Yet they began to fortify their castles and to defend the towns,
and the progress of the rebels began to be more difficult, and to be
interrupted by numerous checks and disappointments.

Sir Phelim and his associate conspirators had been raising a strong
force against themselves; the fugitives which their first successes had
rolled together into Carrickfergus, were embodied and armed into a
force, which, if inferior in numbers to the rebels, was far superior in
moral force and discipline. From these colorel Chichester garr soned

• Carte.

SIR PHELIM O'NEILE. 75

Carrickfergus, Derry, Belfast, and other principal places of strength.
A reinforcement of 1500 men from Scotland g-ave added force to
the whole. Sir Phelim's people were defeated in many places. He
was himself repelled with slaughter from before the walls of castle
Derrick, in the county of Tyrone, and fled to his camp at Newry, ia
mortification and disgrace.

From this, Sir Phelim's conduct is to be distinguished for its vio-
lence and cruelty. Some historians attribute the murders committed by
his order, to a design to secure the fidelity of his people, by dipping them
in guilt beyond the expectation of forgiveness. The love of plunder
had brought the common people to his standard, and he very well
understood that there was no other motive so likely to preserve their
fidelity, as the desperation of crime beyond the hope of mercy. By
some this counsel has been imputed to Ever MacMahon, one of his
followers, and titular bishop of Down, on the authority of a deposition
of a Mr Simpson of Glaslogh. But with Carte, we are inclined to
attribute the crimes of this person to the evil passions of his nature,
upon the strong ground, that they appear to have chiefly followed
upon occasions of ill success. On such occasions where his followers
met with a check — when any thing in the camp caused irritation, and
sometimes when he was drunk, it was usual for him to be seized with
a violent fit of rage bordering upon phrenzy, during which he fre-
quently gave orders for the murder of his prisoners. Some of these
ruffian-like acts are enumerated by Carte, and we shall give them in
his language. " In some of these frantic fits, he caused Mr Richard
Blaney, knight of the shire of Monaghan, to be hanged in his own
garden, and the old lord Charlemont to be shot; in another, when
the rebels were repulsed in the attack of the castle of Augher, and
several of the sept of the O'Neiles slain, he ordered Mulmory Mac-
Donell, to kill all the English and Scotch within the parishes of
Mullebrack, Logilley, and Kilcluney; in another, when he heard of
the taking of Newry by lord Conway, he went in the beginning of
May, in all haste, to Armagh, and in breach of his own promise under
his own hand and seal, at the capitulation, murdered a hundred per-
sons in the place, burnt the town and the cathedral church — a vener-
able and ancient structure said to be built by St Patrick, and called
by a name reverenced enough among the Irish, to have been an
effectual protection to a place dedicated to his honour — and fired all
the villages and houses of the neighbourhod, and murdered many cf
all ages and sexes, as well in the town as in the country round about.*'

From this, all pretence to humanity was at an end: once adopted
there is no end to cruelty. It will be justified by the assertion of its
justice, and will be maintained by the furious passions of men dipped
in lawless murder. The rebel soldier was not slow to catch the spirit
of his chief, and to glory in atrocities which came recommended by a
sanction he could not but respect. Even cows and sheep were tor-
tured for being English, and were not saved by the growing necessity
which they might have been used to supply. " Cruel and bloody
measures," writes Carte, "seldom prosper:" from the commencement
of this course of cruel conduct, Sir Phelim's successes were at an end.

Whatever may be the value of Mr Carte's maxim, it seems quite recon-
cilable to every thing we know of the laws of human nature ; an army
steeped in crimes, which demand the help of the worst p issions of man
for their perpetration, cannot be the fit organ of moral discipline; it
can have no calm energy, no sense of honour, or of an honourable,
high, or holy cause. Some savage state can, it is true, be conceived,
debased by a faith, atrocious by some fell rule of wrong; there may be
hordes who worship the powers of evil, and are bound by fanaticism
of some black and hell-born hue. The Christian, however misled, is
taught to act on other grounds; even his illusions preserve the name
of a holy cause ; his crimes are in the defiance of his conscience, and
his creed : the plundering and the licentious butcheries only sanc-
tioned by cupidity — revenge, and the blood-thirsty excitement of an
uncontrolled rabble, the most dangerous and disgraceful phenomenon
in the known compass of things, could never be consistent with
the moral discipline which is the best strength of armies. The army
of Sir Phelim, terrible henceforth to the defenceless, were chaff before
the smallest force that could be brought into contact with them.
The rabble who followed him, expressed their designs in language,
which requires no commentary. They declared that " they would not
leave an English man in the country ; that they would have no Eng-
lish king, but one of their own nation, and Sir Phelim O'Neile should
be their king, .... that if they had his majesty in their power, they
would flay him alive," &c. Such were the frantic professions of this
vile mob, as has been proved from several depositions, perused by
Carte.

Among the grievous consequences of these excesses, one was, that
they called forth some lamentable instances of retaliation. Among the
English and Scotch a horror of the Irish spread to every rank; the
report of such barbarities appeared to degrade the perpetrators below
the level of human nature. They also excited the worst passions
among the inferior classes of the opposite party. The Scotch garri-
son at Carrickfergus, possessed both by their habitual hatred to
popery, and inflamed to an implacable detestation of the Irish, by
multiplied accounts of their cruelties, horrible in themselves, and ex-
aggerated not only by the sufferers, but by those wretches who boasted
and magnified their own barbarities. In one fatal night, they issued from
Carrickfergus into an adjacent district, called Island Magee, where a
number of poor Irish resided, unoffending and untainted by the rebel-
lion. Here, according to the statement of a leader in this party, they
massacred thirty poor families. This incident has been, as might be
expected, misstated in all its particulars, both as to the number of the
sufferers and the date of the occurrence. Leland, by far the most accu
rate and scrupulous writer on our history, ascertains the true particu-
lars from the IMS. "depositions of the county of Antrim/' preserved
in the College Library ; and states, that instead of happening in Novem-
ber, this incident took place in the beginning of the following- January,
when the followers of Sir Phelim " had almost exhausted their bar-
barous malice."*" We should add, that Carte cannot, as Leland

' Leland, iii. 128.

SIR PHELIM O'NEILE. 77

thinks, be properly said to favour the assertion, that this massacre
took place in November: without entering on the question as to its
date, he quotes the assertion from a book entitled, The Politician's
Catechism, in order to show from numerous facts, that it was not
" the first massacre in Ireland, on either side,"* and on this Mr Carte
is quite conclusive. We also think it fair to state, that one historical
writer, whom we have consulted, questions the accuracy of Leland's
investigation of the college MS.; but from the uniform tone of acrid
misrepresentation in which this writer deals, we have not thought fit
to adduce an opinion which we should be compelled to investigate at a
very disproportioned length. The importance of the point has been
overstated in the heat of party recrimination. When crimes on either
side must be admitted, priority is of little importance; it cannot justify
those who cannot be justified, but by the denial of every principle of
right and wrong.

As we have observed, the moral effect of these atrocities was fatal
to the army of Sir Phelim. They soon became only formidable to
the unarmed and helpless. The horror diffused by their crimes,
armed against them many who would willingly have remained inert,
and drew from the Irish government, the English parliament, and the
protestant gentry, efforts of opposition and resistance which soon
effectually checked their advances. Of the wide spread scene of waste,
disorder and danger amounting to the disruption of society, of which
such a state of things was productive, an ample and striking descrip-
tion is contained in Borlase's account. Every private house seems to
have been something in the condition of a besieged fortress — and a scene
of protracted terror and watchfulness, or of heroic courage and con-
stancy. " Great were the straits many of them were put unto, enduring
all manner of extremities, subjecting themselves to all kind of dangers;
not daunted with the multitude of rebels that lay about them, they in
many places issued out, and lived only on the spoils they took from
them, fighting continually for their daily bread, which they never
wanted, so long as their enemies had it. The rebels were so undex-
terous in the management of their sieges, that they took very few
places by force; in all their attempts, whether by mine, battery, or
assault, they seldom prospered. The great engine by which they
mastered any fort of the English was treachery ; offers of safe conduct,
and other conditions of honour and advantage, which might induce the
besieged, sometimes reduced to the utmost extremities, to surrender
their places into their hand; which though so solemnly sworn and
signed, yet they seldom or never kept." f We forbear entering into
the sanguinary recital of these flagrant atrocities, which we should be
too glad to have it in our power to reject as the monsters of exaggera-
tion and fear, but which are given upon the authority of depositions,
that there is no fair ground for rejecting. Much of the sanguinary
spirit manifested by the followers of the rebel chiefs is to be attributed
to the irritating consciousness of failure, and the protracted resistance
which they so often had to encounter, from seemingly inadequate
opponents.

* Carte, i. 76, 77. + Borlase.

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

It was in the month of December, 1641, that the rebels, encouraged
more by the absence of any hostile demonstrations on the government
side than by any successes of their own, came before Drogheda. They
had neither the necessary materials for a siege, nor even for an en-
campment; and, therefore, they were compelled to take their quarters
in the surrounding villages, and thus became more formidable to
private persons living in the surrounding district than to the city;
which was not, however, exempt either from danger or suffering.
The numbers of the rebel army amounted to nearly twenty thousand,
and they were thus enabled to blockade every avenue, and completely
to intercept all supplies. Ill provided for a siege, the governor had
still nearer ground for apprehension from the traitors who were
suspected to be within his walls. On the night of December 20, the
rebels attempted to surprise the city by a sudden and general assault,
but were driven back with so much loss that they did not think it
advisable to renew the attempt. They were, however, fully aware
of the unprepared condition of the city, and the wants of the garrison;
and having every reason to hope that they would meet with no inter-
ruption from abroad, they expected to obtain possession by starving
the garrison.

Within, the condition of affairs was indeed low enough to warrant
such expectations. The English became diseased from the effects of
an unaccustomed and scanty diet, and were daily losing their strength
and spirits: from this state of want and suffering many escaped over
the walls. The officers wrote a letter to the duke of Ormonde, in the
hope that the exertion of his influence might extract some relief from
the supineness of the state. About the 11th of January, 1042, the
lords-justices sent a scanty and poor supply of food and ammunition,
saying that they were unwilling to send more until it should appear
that the present supply could obtain entrance. The way was un-
doubtedly difficult, the entrance to the harbour being narrow, and
obstructed by the precaution of the rebels, who had sunk a small
vessel in the channel, and drawn a strong chain across from two larg-e
ships on either side. Notwithstanding these obstacles, the small and
shallow vessels which brought the supply were enabled to pass over
the chain, as well as a bar of sand, which, it was conceived, must have
obstructed their entrance at low water.

The joy of the garrison at a relief so seasonable was nearly the
cause of their ruin: indulging in a premature sense of security, their
vigilance became relaxed as their fear abated. The governor, who
did not participate in the forgetfulness of the occasion, saw the dan-
ger, and took strict care to have the guards visited more frequently
during the night; but this did not prevent their sleeping on their
posts, for they had been worn by toil and privation, and were, it may
be assumed, oppressed with unwonted indulgence, and lulled by false
security. Treason, too, had been at work. Sir Phelim had managed
to secure an understanding with some of the inhabitants; and in the
Btill hour of darkness, when all appeared to favour the unnoticed
approach of an enemy, an old door- way, which had been walled up.
was broken open, and admitted hve hundred men picked from all the

SIK PHELIM O'NEILE. 79

companies of the rebel army without. The citj lay in silence. The
garrison and the people were asleep, and the guards, half asleep, did
not look beyond their own immediate watches; all things favoured
the attempt, and for half an hour Drogheda was in possession of the
enemy. But their conduct was not answerable to the occasion, and
was such as to indicate clearly the true character* of Sir Phelim's
army. There was nothing to prevent their seizing on a gate and
admitting Sir Phelim and his forces; they could, without resistance,
have seized the artillery on Millmount by which the town was com-
manded; the garrison could have offered but slight resistance while
unprepared. But they never seem to have thought of any course of
action; they trusted, probably, as all mobs will ever trust, to the fal-
lacious confidence of numerical force, and supposed themselves to be
in possession of the town because they had gut in. Their triumph was
however unsatisfactory, until it should be made known to their enemies
within, and their friends abroad: it was evident that something was
wanting to their dark and unknown victory. They manifested their
possession of the town by a tremendous shout, which carried astonish-
ment and alarm to every quarter of the town: the sentinels started to
their posts, and the little garrison was roused from its dangerous
slumber. Sir Henry Tichburne, hearing the rebel cheer, rushed out
without waiting to arm, and caused a drum to beat to arms. Head-
ing his own company, which chanced to be the main guard, he advanced
to meet the rebel force, and falling in with them quickly, a short
struggle took place, in which the rebels, though more numerous by six
to one, and also picked men, had the disadvantage in arms and disci-
pline, and were soon forced to retreat in confusion: in the mean time the
governor had collected a party of musqueteers, and coming up while
the rebels were in this state, by a volley of shot converted their dis-
order into a precipitate flight. They scattered several ways. About
two hundred escaped by the concealed breach at which they had
entered, many found concealment in private houses, two hundred fell
in the streets. Of the English only three fell in the fight; a few
were found slain in different quarters where they had been surprised
or turned upon by the flying rebels. Another attempt of the same
kind was made on the following night It may be presumed that it
was designed to avoid the errors of that which we have here related;
but the vigilance of the garrison had been too well alarmed, and the
enemy was beaten off with some loss.

The supply was insufficient, and the garrison of Drogheda soon fell
into a condition of the utmost distress. Famine, and its sure attendant
disease, more formidable than the enemy, took possession of the town;
the men were enfeebled, their numbers thinned by fluxes and other com-
plaints, and they were forced to live on horses, dogs, cats, and every
ioathsome resource of utter extremity. Sir Phelim saw their condi-
tion, and reckoned upon it not unreasonably: he saw that if he could
collect a sufficient force, and obtain cannon to batter the walls, that the
garrison were little likely to offer any effective resistance. With this
view, he left his army and hurried away to the north, promising to
return in eight days with eight cannon and a strong reinforcement —

80 TRANSITION .^-POLITICAL.

a step which makes it very apparent to how great an extent the remiss-
ness of the government had become a matter of calculation.

Tichburne, on his part, was fully aware of his danger, and armed
himself with heroic resolution. He sent captain Cadogan to Dublin
to solicit the needful reinforcements and supplies; and expressed his
resolution to hoW the town against the enemy while the last morsel
of horse-flesh remained, and then to cut his way to Dublin. In the
interim he sent out small parties to endeavour to obtain whatever pro-
visions could be thus found, within a short distance of the town.
Tli ere were in consequence numerous skirmishes with the Irish, in
which it was presently ascertained that their resistance was so little
formidable, that Tichburne felt he might take more decided steps to
supply the wants of his famishing garrison. He sent captain Trevor
to a place four miles off, where he had been informed that there were
eighty cows and two hundred sheep: the party was successful, and
drove this fortunate acquisition without any resistance into the town,
where they had for some weeks been without any wholesome aliment.
They were thus enabled to hold out for several days; when, on the
20th of February, several ships appeared in the river, containing pro-
visions and tro6ps for their relief. Their approach had been guarded
against by the precautions of the Irish army, who had, in the mean
time, strengthened the impediments which had failed to obstruct the
former supply. But the day before, a storm had broken the chain,
and the sunken vessel had drifted away with the force of the impeded
current; there was a spring-tide, and the winds, for many days con-
trary, had shifted in their favour, and blew fair from the south-east.
The transport thus carried on by the combined advantage of wind and
tide, passed rapidly from the fire which the Irish kept up, and entered
the harbour with the loss of two killed and fourteen wounded. They
brought a good supply of provision, and four companies of men.

It so fell out that Sir Phelim returned the same day; he brought
two guns and seven hundred men. And disregarding- every lesson
which the previous incidents of the siege should have taught, he
determined upon an assault. It was his plan to carry the walls by
escalade, and in this absurd attempt his people were repulsed with
such loss as to bring his army into entire contempt. Tichburne, who
had hitherto rated his enemy above their real worth, having been all
through deceived by numerical disparity, now determined to be no
longer the defensive party. After this occurrence, he sallied forth every
day with strong parties and looked for the enemy, whom, when found,
he always dispersed with ease, so that a few days were sufficient to
satisfy the Irish that they could only be cut to pieces in detail by
remaining any longer, and they collected their force and marched
away on the 5th ot March.

Thus endei Sir Phelim's attempt for the capture of Drogheda.
We have heie related the incidents of this siege with more detail
than its importance may appear to deserve, because they are illustra-
tive of the comparative character of the forces employed on either
side. It is curious to notice for how long a time their numerical dis-
parity continued to impose on both; and it is evident that the events

SIR PHELIM O'NEILE. 81

which terminated the siege might have equally prevented its com-
mencement, had Tichburne been aware of the true character of the
enemy with whom he had to deal.

In the mean time Sir Phelim had been proclaimed a traitor: the
ships, of which we have just mentioned the arrival, had brought copies
of proclamations offering rewards for his head and that of several
others ; these were posted in the market-place. He now turned
towards the north, the greater part of his army having scattered, and
many of his friends being prisoners. A council of war, held by the
duke of Ormonde, agreed in the expediency of following up these
favourable occurrences with a considerable force now at their com-
mand ; but the step was countermanded by the lords-justices, who
seem to have thought more of goading the lords of the pale to
desperation, than of terminating a rebellion to which they seemed
to have entertained no objection, unless at intervals when it ap-
peared to menace the existence of their own authority. The duke
of Ormonde sent notice to lord Moore and Sir H. Tichburne of
the constraint which had been imposed upon his movements, and
these gentlemen expressed their astonishment, and " could not pos-
sibly conceive what motives could induce the lords-justices to send
such orders." They sent a messenger to Dundalk, towards which
town Sir Phelim had sent his cannon. This messenger brought back
word, " that Sir Phelim O'Neile, and colonel Plunket, had been the
day before at that place, and had got together about five hundred
men ; that they would fain have led them out towards Drogheda, but
the men did not care to march; that with great difficulty, and after
hanging two of the number, they at last got them out of the town,
but as soon as the men found themselves out of the place, and at
liberty, they threw down their arms and ran all away; that towards
night Sir Phelim himself went away with Plunket, and left three field
pieces behind him ; and that there were not three gentlemen of quality
left in the county of Louth."*

The report of the earl of Ormonde's approach had been sufficient
to scatter the rebel force about Atherdee and Dundalk. His recall
renewed their courage, and hearing the circumstance, they rallied
their forces and resumed the posts they had abandoned. Lord Moore
and Tichburne, after reducing the environs of Drogheda as well as
their means admitted, directed their march towards Atherdee. About
a mile from this town they came in collision with a strong party of
nearly two thousand rebels, which they routed without suffering any
loss ; and, proceeding on their way, occupied the town. Having gar-
risoned a castle in the vicinity with one hundred and fifty men, to awe
the county of Louth, they pursued their march to Dundalk, which Sir
Phelim held with a force of eight hundred strong. Sir Henry Tich-
burne assaulted this town, and carried it by storm with the loss of
only eighteen men. Sir Phelim escaped in the dusk of evening.

The state of the Ulster rebels was now become a case of despera-
tion. The town of Newry had been taken by lord Conway, and a -

* Carte's Ormonde, I. p. '268.

II. f It.

82 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

strong force of Scotch, under Munroe, which had been landed at
Carrickfergus. Their encounters with the English troops had been
little calculated to raise their hopes ; they had received no assistance
from Spain, and their means were reduced to the lowest. In the
month of April, it is mentioned, Sir Phelim had not in his possession
more than " one firkin and a half of powder left ;" the people sent in
petitions to be taken to mercy, and their leaders prepared to fly the
country. Sir Phelim fled from Armagh, which he buraed, to Dun-
gannon, and from Dungannon to Charlemont, while his followers left
him and scattered among the passes of Tyrone.

But Munroe had other views, or was not equal to the occasion.
Prompt, stern, and peremptory in the assertion of a military control over
all persons and places which were not able to resist, he seems to have
been deficient in the most obvious and ordinary operations which his po-
sition in the face of an insurgent province required. With an army of
two thousand five hundred brave and hardy soldiers he continued inert
for two months, until Sir Phelim, who was not deficient in activity, once
more contrived to rally his scattered friends and soldiers, and made his
reappearance in arms. He was joined by Alexander MacDonell, known
by the name of Colkitto, and a numerous force collected from Armagh,
Tyrone, Fermanagh, and Donegal, together with no inconsiderable
remains of his former army. Relying upon this formidable body, and
encouraged by the inactivity of the enemy, he marched to attack Sir
William and Sir Robert Stewart, June 16. The action was better
maintained than usual by the Irish, but in spite of their numbers and
personal bravery, they were at length routed with a heavy loss.

It was at this period of the rebellion that colonel Owen O'Neile
landed in Donegal with a large supply of arms and ammunition, and
what was more wanting, officers and soldiers, and thus gave a verv
important impulse to the subsiding agitation; his arrival was no less
efficient in impairing the authority of Sir Phelim, who had till this
event been the chief military leader of the insurrection.

From this, a detail of the further events in which Sir Phelim was
in any way a party, would lead us into notices which can be more
appropriately pursued further on. He was excluded from any leading
station by the distribution of the provinces to other commanders, but
long continued to maintain a doubtful importance in the rebel councils,
more from the influence of his father-in-law, general Preston, than
from his own personal influence.

In 1652 he was tried for his life before the commission issued in
Dublin, by the Commonwealth, for the trial of the offenders during the
rebellion, and his end is more to his honour than any action of his
previous life. He received an intimation that a pardon should be the
reward of his evidence to prove that king Charles I. had authorised
him to levy forces against his government in Ireland. Sir Phelim
refused to save himself by a declaration so unwarranted and scandal-
ous. He was accordingly tried and executed for the massacres com-
mitted by his authority in 1641.

Our next memoir is that of a partizan on the other side.

SIR CHARLES COOTR. 83

SIR CHARLES COOTE.

SLAIN A.D. 1642.

Sir Charles Coote was descended from a French family of the
same name ; his ancestor, Sir John Coote, settled in Devonshire. The
brave leader whom we have here to notice, came into Ireland at an early
age. He served under Mountjoy, in the war against Hugh, earl of
Tyrone, and was present at the siege of Kinsale, when he is said by
Lodge to have commanded a company: the latter fact we doubt, as his
name does not occur among the lists of captains, which Moryson gives;
yet it seems to derive some confirmation from the fact of his having
been appointed provost marshal of Connaught, by king James, in con-
sideration of his services to queen Elizabeth. The appointment we
should observe was but reversionary, and to take effect on the death
of captain Waynman, who held the office at the time.

We must pass lightly over the incidents of a long period of Coote's
life, which have no sufficient interest for detail. In 1613 he was made
receiver of the king's composition-money in Connaught; 1616 he re-
ceived the honour of knighthood, and the next year had a grant of a
Saturday market and two fairs, on the festivals of St James and St
Martin, at Fuerty near the town of Roscommon. In 1 620 he was
vice-president of Connaught; and was sworn of the privy council.
In l6"21 he was created a baronet of Ireland.* In addition it maybe
generally stated, that he had received large grants in different counties,
and was much employed in various magisterial offices, of which the
enumeration and the dates are to be found in all the peerage lists.

He was a colonel of foot in 1640. At the breaking1 out of the
rebellion in 1641, he was one of the earliest and most considerable
sufferers. His linen works in Montrath were pillaged, and the entire
of his property in that town was destroyed in December 1641. In the
Queen's County, in Cavan, in Leitrim, and Sligo, his property every
where met the same treatment, to the amount of many thousand
pounds; and his estates were so injured as to remain nearly unprofit-
able till the end of the rebellion.

In 1641 he obtained a commission to raise a thousand men, which
he speedily effected. It was during the investment of Drogheda, by
a rebel army under Sir Phelim O'Neile, (as related in his life) that
the lords-justices, alarmed by the near approach of rebellion in the
border county of Wicklow, were compelled to cast aside their ineffi-
ciency for a moment; they detached Coote with a small party to
the relief of the castle of Wicklow. Coote was no unwilling instru-
ment: he was a man of that rough, stern, and inflammable temper
which is easily wrought to fierce and extreme courses by the impa-
tience of resentment. Had he met with no personal injuries, his fiery
temper would have been sufficiently excited by his intolerance of dis-
loyalty; but as always must happen, his own wrongs lent animosity to

* Lodge.

84 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

the natural indignation of the stern partisan, and his vindictive feel-
ings were disguised under the pretext of a general cause, and the name
of just retribution; for by this time the fiendlike atrocities of Sir
Phelim O'Neile had excited general terror and pity. With his own
implacable resentment burning in his heart, Sir Charles marched to
avenge the victims of O'Neile's cruelty, and to strike terror into the
rising spirit of insurrection.

The rebels had some days before surprised Card's fort, Arklow and
Chichester forts — had besieged the houses of all the English gentry in
the surrounding country, and had committed great slaughter upon
the inhabitants — and were actually on their march to Dublin. At the
approach of Coote, they retired and scattered among the Wicklow
mountains. He pursued his march to Wicklow, the rebels possessed
the town and had invested the castle, which was in a condition of
extreme distress. They did not wait to be attacked, but retired on
the appearance of the English soldiers. Coote entered the town and
caused numerous persons to be seized and executed as rebels ; his party
also had caught the angry spirit of their leader, and numerous acts of
violence occurred. Historians of every party have agreed in their
representations of this transaction, and it has left a stain on the me-
mory of Coote. This we cannot pretend to efface; we are not inclined
to make any concession to the exaggerations of the party historians on
either side, but we equally revolt from the affectation of candour which
compromises the truth, for the sake of preserving the appearance of
fairness. Coote has been the scape-goat of impartiality. Leland,
who is in general truth itself, in his historic details, and more free from
bias than any historian of Ireland, mentions his conduct in terms
of denunciation — which we should not advert to did they not involve
some injustice. The following is Leland's statement: "this man was
employed by the chief governors to drive some of the insurgents of
Leinster from the castle of Wicklow which they had invested; he
executed his commission, repelled the Irish to their mountains, and in
revenge of their depredations committed such unprovoked, such ruth-
less, and indiscriminate carnage in the town, as rivalled the utmost
extravagance of the northerns. This wanton cruelty, instead of terrify-
ing, served to exasperate the rebels, and to provoke them to severe
retaliation."

We perfectly agree with those who consider that no personal resent-
ments, or no crimes committed by other rebels elsewhere, can be called
a justification of the cruelties inflicted upon the people of Wicklow, if
it be assumed that they were not involved in the offence. And even
if they were, we must admit that the conduct of Coote was violent,
sanguinary, and beyond the limits of justice and discretion; it was un-
questionably vindictive, perhaps also (for we have not seen any minute
detail) brutal and savage. But we are bound to repel the affirmation
that it was unprovoked, and the assumption that the sufferers were
unoffending persons executed to gratify private revenge. We cannot
suffer even Sir Charles Coote to be painted in gratuitous blackness,
to balance Sir Phelim O'Neile in the scale of candour. Wicklow
town was at the time a nest of rebellion, and the retreat of every

SIR CHARLES COOTE. 85

discontented spirit in Leinster. The oppression and rapine of the
iniquitous castle-party, the agents and dependents of the lords-jus-
tices, had filled the strong tribes of the Byrnes, the Kavanaghs, the
Tooles, and all who lived in their circle with well-grounded hostility;
and few at the time in the town of Wicklow were free from liability
to suspicion. To what extent Coote received informations, true or
false, on which he acted in the heat of the moment, cannot be ascer-
tained; that such must have been numerous and grounded on the facts
is not to be doubted. It was Coote's notion that the exigency of the
crisis (for such it then appeared) demanded the display of severe and
exemplary justice; we differ from this opinion, but see no reason to
call it worse than error. He therefore resolved on a stern duty, which
would, under the circumstances, have been revolting to a humane spirit;
but which harmonized well with the " sceva indignatio" of Coote.
That he " committed such unprovoked, such ruthless, and indiscrimi-
nate carnage in the town as rivalled the utmost extravagance of the
Northerns " is a statement that yet requires to be proved : we deny
the charge.

The defeat of the English at Julianstown bridge carried consterna-
tion to the government and inhabitants of Dublin. Coote was recalled
from Wicklow to defend the metropolis; he obeyed the order. He
had approached with his party within a few miles of Dublin, when his
march was intercepted by Luke Toole, with a force generally supposed
to amount to a thousand men. Coote's men amounted at most to four
hundred, but the rebels were routed so quickly and with such slaughter
that it is said, this incident made Coote an object of terror during the
remainder of his life. He then resumed his march and was made
governor of Dublin. He endeavoured to secure the city, a task attended
with no small embarrassment, as the fortifications were in a state of
utter dilapidation ; the city wall had fallen into ruin, and having been
built four hundred years before, was ill adapted to the altered state
of military resources.

While thus engaged, Coote was frequently called out into the sur-
rounding districts, to repel incursions or repress manifestations of
insurrection. On these occasions he was uniformly effective, but
acted, there is reason to believe, with the fierce and thorough -working
decision of his character. On the 15th of December he was called
out by the report that three hundred armed men had plundered a vessel
from England at Clontarf, and deposited their plunder in the house of
Mr King, where they took up their quarters. For some time before,
there had been a considerable disposition to insurrectionary movement
along the whole coast, from Clontarf to the county of Meath. Plunder
and piracy had become frequent under the relaxation of local juris-
diction, consequent upon the general terror; and the fears of the govern-
ment at last awakened them to a sense of the necessity of guarding
against so near a danger. Several of the gentry also of these districts
had committed themselves by acts of no doubtful character; and it was
with their known sanction that strong parties of armed men were col-
lected in Clontarf, Santry, Swords, Rathcoole, &c: these parties com-
mitted numerous acts of violence and overawed the peaceful, while

they gave encouragement to the turbulent. The party here particular-
ized was evidently under the sanction of Mr King, a gentleman of the
popular party, in whose house they stored their plunder ; they were in
strict combination with the people of Clontarf, who had actually
formed a part of their strength and joined them with their fishing
boats. We mention these facts because the summary statement that
Sir C. Coote expelled them from Clontarf, by burning both Mi-
King's house and the village, must otherwise place the act in a fallacious
point of view. Coote acted in this as on every occasion with the
sweeping severity of his harsh character ; but the unpopularity of his
character, and of the lords-justices to whom he was as an arm of
defence, seems to have diverted the eye of history from the obvious
fact, that in this, as upon many other occasions, he did no more than
the emergency of the occasion called for.

It was but a few days after that he was compelled to march to the
relief of Swords, which was occupied by 1400 men. They barricaded
all the entrances. Coote forced these passages, and routed them with
a slaughter of 200 men.

The known violence of Coote, while it made him the instrument of
the government in many questionable acts and many acts of decided
injustice, also exposed him to much calumny, the certain reward of
unpopularity. Among other things, a report was spread, that he had
at the council board expressed his opinion for a general massacre of
the Roman catholics; this report was alleged as an excuse by the
lords of that communion for refusing to trust themselves into the
hands of the Irish government.* These noblemen had unquestionablv
real grounds for their distrust of the lords-justices, and thought it
necessary to find some pretext for the prudent refusal. But they
could not seriously have entertained a motion so revolting. The pre-
text, though perhaps too frivolous for the persons who used it, was,
nevertheless, highly adapted for the further purpose of working upon
the fear and anger of the multitude ; who can be ignorant, that however
self-interest and vicious passions may warp the hearts and understand-
ings of the upper ranks, there is too much knowledge of right and
wrong among them to permit of so open an outrage to humanity,
among persons pretending* to the dignity of the lords-justices and
council. It is very likely that Coote, who was a rude soldier and an
irritable man, used language which, used by a person of more sedate-
ness of temper, would have borne a harsh construction ; but we see no
reason to admit that he either contemplated the crime described, or
that any one present could have reasonably so reported his language.
The lords-justices in reply to the letter of the lords of the pale,
assured them that they never " did hear Sir Charles or any other,
utter at the council board or elsewhere, any speeches tending to a
purpose or resolution, to execute on those of their profession, or any
other, a general massacre ; nor was it ever in their thoughts to dis-
honour his Majesty or the state by so odious, impious, and detestable a

* Letter signed Fingal, Gormanstown, Slane, Dunsany, Netlierville, Oliver,
I.outti, Trimleslon.

thing. Giving them assurance of their safety if they would repair
thither, the 1 7th of that month."*

With such a reputation for violence and cruelty, it was unfortunate
for Sir Charles Coote and for the country, that as military governor
of the city, it devolved to him to try the prisoners then under the
charge of rebellion in Dublin. He was an unfit instrument, and had
neither the prudence nor temper for so delicate an occasion. To
make the matter worse, it remains at best doubtful, whether the occa-
sion demanded the substitution of martial law for the ordinary juris-
diction of the criminal courts. The ground assigned was the great
accumulation of prisoners, and the impossibility of obtaining juries from
the counties where the crimes were alleged to have been committed.
Carte remarks on this, that they had juries from Meath, Wicklow, and
Kildare, as well as from Dublin ; and according to his statement of
their conduct, we think it may be doubted whether the parties tried
before them gained much by the preservation of form; for Meath,
Wicklow, and Dublin, " within two days afterwards, bills of high
treason were found against all the lords and prime gentlemen, as also
against three hundred persons of quality and estate in the county of
Kildare: among which were the old countess of Kildare, Sir Nicholas
White, his son, captain White, who had never joined the rebels — so
much expedition was used in this affair."f To preserve the escheats of
property, which had always a due share of consideration with the go-
vernment, the persons of property were exempted from martial law,
and it was easy to find juries to the extent required. The poor were
ordered to be tried by the more expeditious and summary method.
But we must here remark, that the injustice is not the real ground of
objection to this course. The main part of the prisoners had been taken
in arms, and at any time would have been amenable to martial law: but
the act was cruel and imprudent, for the wholesale and summary con-
viction of a multitude of deluded peasants could answer no end. If it was
not vindictive, which we cannot believe, it is chiefly to be censured as
i shallow mistake: when the cruelty of punishment is more revolting
than its justice is apparent, the indignation and sympathy of the mul-
titude takes the place of submission and fear. The instrumentality of
one so feared and so unpopular as Coote, cast an added shade of dark-
ness upon this measure. Among the persons thus tried were several
Roman catholic priests ; and from this the exasperation of the popu-
lace was the more to be apprehended. These gentlemen were very
generally accused of exciting the people to rebellion: how far such an
accusation could be rigidly maintained, we cannot decide, but it is easy
to feel the unhappy embarrassment under which such cases would be
likely to present themselves to the feelings of a just and humane jury ;
for in very many such instances, where the priest has been the leader,
his entire conduct has been directed to soften the horrors of rebellion,
and to save its victims. The history of " ninety-eight" supplies examples
enough. But father O'Higgins, the victim of 1641, was a " quiet, inof-
fensive; and pious man, much respected by those who knew him, wb<

* Borlase. \ Carte, I. 278. note

88 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

officiated at Naas, and in the neighbourhood. He had distinguished
himself in saving the English in those parts from slaughter and plun-
der, and had relieved several that had been stripped and robbed. The
earl of Ormonde found him at Naas, took him under his protec-
tion, (be never having been concerned in any act of rebellion, nor
guilty of any crime, nor liable to any objection, but the matter of his
religion,) and brought him along with him to Dublin."* Some time
after, while lord Ormonde was absent from town, the proceedings here
described commenced, and the unfortunate O'Higgins was seized,
condemned, and executed. This shameful act was near drawing on
Coote the punishment which his inconsiderate violence deserved. The
earl of Ormonde, who was lieutenant-general of the kingdom, was
indignant when he heard of the fate of his protege, and immediately
insisted on the trial of Coote, as an offender against the laws of the
land. The lords-justices were unwilling to give up the man on whose
military talent and bravery they chiefly rested their trust, and who,
they were conscious, was but their instrument in a. station of the duties of
which he was wholly ignorant. The earl of Ormonde expostulated with
them in vain, and even threatened to throw up his office : they apologized,
and temporized, and invented lame excuses, until it was plain that they
were not to be persuaded by threats or entreaties : and Coote escaped.
But the act which was thus made additionally notorious, produced a
pernicious effect among the Roman catholic aristocracy and gentry,
whose fears it appeared strongly to confirm.f

The next affair of any importance in which Coote is found engaged,
occurred on the 3d February, when he accompanied the earl of Or-
monde to Kilsalagban, within seven miles of Dublin, against a strong
army of rebels whom they drove from their entrenchments and routed
completely: the particulars belong to our memoir of the earl of Or-
monde.

In the beginning of March the earl of Ormonde left Dublin, to
march against the rebels in the county of Kildare. During his march,
detachments were sent out on various services, under the chief officers
of his army. On the 10th April, Coote was sent with six troops of
horse to the relief of Birr. On the way they came to a causeway
which the rebels had broken up and fortified with a trench, which they
occupied. The post was formidable, and the passage appeared quite im-
practicable to persons of ordinary nerve : Coote here nobly maintained
his known character for decision and unflinching intrepidity, alighting
from his horse, he selected forty of his troopers, with whom he proceeded
on foot against the rebels. The smallness of his party threw them in
some degree off their guard: they scorned to take the full advantages of
their wooded and entrenched position against forty dismounted troops:
but these troopers were soldiers, led by an officer of first rate proof

* Carte.
+ It is liere but just to state, that there were other causes likely to produce the
Eame effect. The excesses of the rebels had by this time amounted to a frightful sum.
The list of murders through the country was not less than 154,000 between the
23d October. 1642, and March, 1643. — Dr Maxwell's Examination.

SIR CHARLES COOTE. 89

and the coolest hardihood, whose presence doubled every man's strength.
Without the loss of* a single man, Coote and his brave party slew the
captain of the rebels, with forty of his men: went on and relieved
Birr, Borris, and Knocknamease, and after forty-eight hours' incessant
riding and fighting, returned to the camp. " This," writes Cox, " was
the prodigious passage through Montrath woods, which is indeed won-
derful in many respects." From this adventure, the title of earl of
Montrath was conferred afterwards on his son.

He was also soon after distinguished at the battle of Kilrush, between
the forces under the earl of Ormonde, and the rebels commanded by
the lord Mountgarret. There Coote led the foot, and had no small
share in the signal victory of that day. We shall hereafter relate it
at length.

Some time after, he joined lord Lisle, to relieve the castle of Geas-
hill, where the lady Letitia Offaley had for some time been besieged
by the rebels. This noble lady, a Geraldine, and grand- daughter of the
earl of Kildare, though in her 64th year, shut her gates against the
rebels, and, with the bravery of her race, prepared to defend her
castle. She was summoned to surrender, with a threat from the rebels
that, upon her refusal, they would burn the town, and massacre man,
woman, and child. To this dastardly menace, the heroic lady replied,
that she had always lived among them as a good neighbour and a
loyal subject: that she would die innocently as she had lived, and if
necessary, would endeavour to defend her town. Being however influ-
enced by the humanity natural to her sex and rank, she remained on
the defensive, and the rebels who were still collecting, might in the
end have added another illustrious victim to the murders of this fatal
year, when happily the party of lord Lisle and Coote came up, and
relieved her from her peril.

The next place to be relieved was Phiiipstown. On this occasion
a characteristic story is told of Coote. Having to march for that pur-
pose through a difficult and dangerous country, the general called a
council. The difficulties being strongly pressed, Coote, who was not of
a temper to admit of difficulties, observed, that " if they made haste,
they might easily pass the defiles and causeways before the enemy
could get together to oppose them." This was admitted, but the ques-
tion next proposed was, " how they should get back?" " I protest,''
answered Coote, " I never thought of that in my life ; I always have
considered how to do my business, and when that was done, I got
home again as well as I could, and hitherto I have not missed of forc-
ing" niv wa

"6

y way.

The advice was taken, and the result thoroughly successful; but the
time had come when Coote was himself to be deserted by his usual
good fortune. They took Phiiipstown, and pursued their way to Trim,
where a large party of rebels had drawn together. On their approach
the rebels retired, and they took possession of the town. Lord Lisle
immediately took his departure to Dublin to procure sufficient men to
leave a garrison in the town. Night drew on, and all seemed still
until midnight, when the rebels, to the number of three thousand,
returned 1 3 attack the wearied party of troopers, who little expected such

00 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

an interruption to their well-earned rest. Coote was too watchful to
be caught asleep. On receiving the alarm from his sentinel, he col-
lected seventeen troopers, and rushed out to take possession of the
gate. Thus he was enabled to secure a retreat for his party, who
quickly came up. They then issued from the gate, and charging the
disorderly crowd, at once put them to flight in every direction. But a
shot either from the flying crowd, or from the town, or as some histo-
rians appear to conjecture, from his own party, killed Sir Charles
Coote. This event occurred 7th May, 1642. The next day his body
was sent to Dublin, under a strong guard.

In continuing the account of the phases of this first stage of the
great rebellion, we pass to introduce, in a notice of a descendant of one
of the most famous hero families of the conquest, its aspects in the dis-
tant province of Connaught.

MILES BOURKE, VISCOUNT MAYO.

DIED A. D. 1649.

Of the ancestral history of the family of Burke, Bourke, and de
Burgo, common variations of the same illustrious name, we have said
enough in these pages. The nobleman whom we are here to notice
was the representative of the MacOughter branch. It is known to the
reader, that near the middle of the 14th century, William de Burgo,
ear] of Ulster, was assassinated by bis own people. His countess, with
her infant daughter, took refuge in England. The possessions of the
earl were left unprotected. In the north they were seized by the
O'Neiles; in Connaught by two collateral descendants of the De Burgo
race. To escape a future demand of restitution, these ancient gentle-
men embraced the laws and manners of the surrounding septs of Irish,
and assumed the names of MacWilliam Eighter and Mac William
Oughter. Of these, the latter, and we suspect the other also, were
descendants from the second son of Richard de Burgo, grandfather to
the murdered earl.

The viscount of this family, whom we are now to notice, demands
this distinction on account of the very peculiar and unfortunate cir-
cumstances of his history. He sat as viscount Mayo in the parlia-
ment of 1634. When the troubles of 1641 commenced, he was ap-
pointed governor of the county of Mayo, conjointly with viscount
Dillon. By virtue of the authority with which he was thus intrusted,
lie raised six companies of foot, and during three months kept the
county in a quiet state without any aid from government.

As, however, it was not long before the convulsions in England
threw a cloud of uncertainty upon every question at issue between
parties ; the rebels were soon divided into factions, each of which con-
tended, and was ready to fight for the shade of loyalty or of opinion
maintained by itself. It is not easy now to settle with precision, by
what strange course of previous politics, or from what reasons of right,
real, or supposed, the lord Mayo acted in direct opposition to the

MILES BOURKE, VISCOUNT MAYO. 91

principles, on the understanding of which he had been employed.
Many of the circumstances are such, indeed, as to ascertain a feeble,
uncertain and complying character; and indicate a degree of timidity
and subservience, which it is necessary to assume as the most merciful
excuses for unprincipled compliances, of which the result must have
been foreseen by a little common sense, and guarded against by an
ordinary sense of duty.

The accounts of the dark and bloody transactions in which this
nobleman's name has been implicated, have been considered worth re-
statement by Lodge,* with a view to clear his memory from the unjust
imputation of having- been a party to their guilt. From such a stain,
we can have no doubt in declaring him free; but our voice must be
qualified by some weig-hty exceptions.

The approach of the rebellion was early felt among the remote and
wild mountains and moors of the county of Mayo. The condition of
the peasantry was poor, their manners barbarous, and their minds
superstitious: their preparations for the coming strife were rude, and
being under comparatively loose restraint, but little concealed. Early
in the summer of 1641, their smiths were observed to be industrious
in the manufacture of their knives or skeins, well known as an ancient
weapon of the rudest Irish war. And these rude implements were
soon to be employed. The time quickly came, and the work of plunder
and destruction began. As the incident here to be related is one of
the most memorable which disgrace the annals of this period, and
has been made the subject of much comment with which we cannot
concur, we shall preface it by a few brief remarks to recall to the
reader's mind that the principle upon which we have hitherto endeav-
oured to frame our statements, has been to give the facts as they
have occurred, with an entire disregard to all uses which have been
made of them. If we admit that the crimes of lawless and ignorant
barbarians, which is the unquestionable character of the lower classes
of the 1 7th century, may indirectly be imputed to the cause of which
they were the instrument, yet we do not assent to the further impli-
cation that those atrocities can be charged directly to the principles
of that cause or, (unless in special cases), to its leaders and promoters.
One distinction will be found to have a general application, and may
be adopted to its full extent; the conduct of the actors in the multi-
farious and complicated maze of crime, suffering, and folly, which is to
occupy the chief portion of this volume, will be observed to be con-
formable to the personal characters of the agents, and not to any
abstract principles or special dogmas. In this we do not mean in any
way to vindicate the soundness of these supposed opinions, but simply
to maintain that so far as our assertion is applied, they are utterly un-
concerned. We do not mean to say that they who could place the

* We are unwilling to find fault with Lodge, or indeed (knowing as we do the
difficulties of our history) with any writer on the score of confusion. But on this
us in many other instances, we have had reason to lament the perplexity of arrange-
ment which renders it hard to mould a clear narrative from his statements. In the
long note from which we have drawn the facts of this memoir, there is a disregard
to the order of events, such as to give a strange confusion to a narrative writteu in
clear and simple language, and full of strong facts.

92 TRANSITION".— POLITICAL.

assassin's knife in the hands of lawless men, for the purpose of main-
taining any principle, are to be acquitted : the truth of God is in
higher hands— than those of the assassin. But we are far from assent-
ing to the zeal, which for the sake of effect, would charge the most erro-
neous tenets with the crimes of men who would have sinned in the
defence of the best and truest: the impulse, in whatever principle it
originates, is propagated from its centre by means of the natural love
of adventure, spoil, and lawless indulgence, common to those who have
nothing to lose, and little but the fear of law to constrain them.
Whether the zeal of opinion, or party animosity, move the centre —
whether the cause be righteous or unjust — if its partisans be low, rude,
and unimpressed by moral restraint, it is but too sure to be maintained
by demonstrations, by which the soundest cause would be dishonoured;
— robbery, murder, and the wanton cruelty of the passions and lusts of
the most base and depraved minds: for it is unhappily, these, that
float uppermost in such times. On this, we are here anxious to be
distinctly and emphatically understood : often as we are, and shall be
compelled to repeat accounts, which have been as the battle-fields of
parties, contending- in rival misrepresentations, and anxious as we
are to stand aloof from the feelings by which the narratives on either
side are more or less tinged; and at the same time to state these facts
which we regard as inductive examples in the history of man, fully,
and as they appear to our indifferent reason : we find it expedient to
accompany them with the precaution of our most guarded comment.
We cannot agree with those writers, who have manifested their desire
to be held liberal by useless attempts to qualify, misrepresent, and
understate such facts as have an irritating tendency: neither do we
concur with those bold and zealous assertors, who are desirous to
make them bear more than their full weight of consequence. Had
such been silent on either side, the truth would be an easy thing, and
the comment straight and brief. We, for our part, reject the statements
cf the first, and the heated and precipitate inferences of the latter:
so far as they are directed to convey reproach to the general character
and principles of action of their antagonist party.* We cannot assent
with some of our fellow-labourers in the mine of Irish history, (a mine
of sad combustibles,) that the most fierce and inhuman outrages were
not committed by the peasantry in the name of their church and creed ;
but we are just as far from imputing the murders and massacres of an
ignorant and inflamed populace who knew no better, to any church or
creed. The insane brutality of O'Neile, the fiend-like atrocity of
MacMahon, are no more to be attributed to a religion (in which they
had no faith,) than the monstrous and profligate crimes of Nero and
Caligula are to be imputed to the religion of Brutus and Seneca. We
do not here mean to deny, or in any way to advert to any direct charges
against the church of Rome as a church: with its effects as a fanati-
cism we are also well acquainted. Neither of these form the gravamen of

* We do not mean to disclaim party opinion in our individual person. But as
editor of these Lives, we are earnestly desirous to keep self out of view. What-
ever we may feel under the influence of these excitements, of which the world is
composed, it is our desire and studv to repress it, in the discharge of a duty of which
impartial justice is the end, aed indifference the principle.

MILES BOURKE, VISCOUNT MAYO. 93

the alleged imputations: the massacres of 1641, committed, as crime is
ever but too likely to be committed, under holy pretences, and in duty's
name, were committed by miscreants, whose actual impulses were
neither those of religion or duty. Moore committed neither robbery
or murder: nor Mountgarret, nor any of the noble lords and gentlemen
whose various motives led, or impelled them to take up arms in the
same cause. But when the whole lives, the recorded declarations, the
preserved correspondence, and the well-attested courses of conduct of
the leaders in crime are viewed; and when the state of the people is
considered, it will be easy to see that they would have done the same
in the name of Jupiter as for the Pope; for the creed of Budha as
for the church of Rome. One more last word, and we shall proceed:
we would remind many of our humane and philos6phical contempora-
ries, that nothing is gained by attempting the charge of exaggeration,
when the statements do not very strongly justify such a qualification:
if thirty were butchered, the crime was just the same in degree as if
it had been a hundred — having been only limited by the number of
the victims exposed to the mercy of popular fanaticism. The reader
will we trust excuse these tedious distinctions, as a preface to facts
that demand them.

The rebellion in the county of Mayo commenced with the robbery
of a gentleman of the name of Perceval. He brought his complaint
to lord Mayo, and sought that redress which was to be looked for from
one of the governors of the county. Lord Mayo marched out to
recover the property of this complainant, whose cattle had been driven
away and lodged within a mill near Ballyhaunis. This building the
robbers had fortified, and while his lordship was considering what to
do, he was visited by messengers from an armed rabble, who had col-
lected at a little distance, with the avowed design of supporting the
robbers in the mill. Several messages passed between them, and we
are compelled to assume, that his lordship, on due consideration of his
forces, found himself not prepared for a more spirited course : he
" granted them a protection," a proceeding which each of the parties
seem to have understood in a very different way. The crowd on this
came forward, and mingled among his lordship's followers, " with much
shouting and joy on both sides;" and no more is said about the miii
and the property of Mr Perceval. In the midst of this motley con-
course, his lordship next moved on to the abbey of Ballyhaunis, where
the whole were entertained for the night. The friars of this abbey
had been deprived of their possessions in the former reign: and on the
first eruption of disturbance in the kingdom, a party of friars of (we
believe,) the order of St Augustine, had returned to take possession
of an ancient mansion of their order, which the approaching revolu-
tion that they expected, would, they hoped, enable them to secure.
Altogether different in principles, opinions, and public feelings, from
the secular clergy of the church of home, these men had no home
interest in the community, with whom they had no relations : they
were the faithful and unquestioning instruments of a foreign policy,
and if they had any individual 01 private object at heart, it was to
secure their newly acquired possession. These were not the persons
most likely to act as moderators in the outset of demonstrations on the

94 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

course of which their whole dependence lay. They are in general
terms accused of taking- the occasion to aggravate the impulse by
the excitement of the people. We see no reason to dissent from this
statement, but we think it fair to add that the deponent from whose
testimony the accusation is made, was precisely under those circum-
stances of terror and alarm, when small incidents assume a magnified
form, and reports exaggerated by alarm carry fallacious impressions.
To this consideration we must refer the inference by which Mr Gold-
smith seems to have connected the hospitality of the friars with the
general increase of violence. By their instructions, affirms the depo-
nent, Mr John Goldsmith, the people " then broke forth into all inhu-
man practices, barbarous cruelties, and open rebellion." It is however
plain, that this incident was a consequence of the practices of which
it is assumed to be a cause. The rebellion in its progress had reached
them, and such was its beginning in that county. From this time the
violence of the country people of the surrounding country became
wild, unrestrained, and dangerous to all but those who were their
counsellors and abettors.

Mr John Goldsmith, from whose deposition the following particu-
lars are mainly drawn, was a protestant clergyman, the incumbent of
the parish of Brashoule. From the disturbed state of the country, of
which his narrative contains a frightful picture, he was early compelled
to seek refuge under the roof of the noble lord here under notice. His
statement, though neither as full or clear as we should desire, is
especially valuable for the authentic insight which it affords into the
character and true circumstances of his noble protector, and for the
lively glimpse which it presents of the terror and distress, which
the lawless state of the country impressed on every breast, and propa-
gated into every circle. The interior view of the family of Belcar-
row, may, we doubt not, stand for many a trembling family and home
beleaguered by fear and apprehension, Lord Mayo is himself repre-
sented as "miserably perplexed in the night with anxious thoughts."
His lordship was, we have every reason to infer, a man of honour and
humanity, but of that unfixed principle and ductile temper that takes
its tone from the reflected spirit, or the influence of harder and firmer
minds. He had the misfortune to be drawn by opposite feelings and
in different directions. The menaces, flatteries, reproaches, and
representations of the crowd and of their leaders, had a strong effect
on his naturally ductile and feeble mind: rebellion raged all round,
and her thunders and gay promises, her lofty pretensions and high-
breathing illusions, formed an atmosphere without his gates, and met
him wherever he went: within the walls of his castle he was sur-
rounded by a protestant family, who were zealous and earnest in their
faith ; his lady, like all true-hearted women, was thoroughly in earnest
about her religion, and by her authority and influence maintained
the same spirit in a large household. At the time that this narrative
refers to, the family of Belcarrow was augmented by several protes-
tant fugitives, of whom the principal were Mr Gilbert and Mr Gold-
smith, both clergymen, with their wives and families, besides several
of the protestants of the neighbouring country, who in their general
alarm found at Belcarrow a compassionate host and hospitable board,

MILES BOURKE, VISCOUNT MAYO. 95

and the tree exercise of their religion, at a time when, according to
Mr Goldsmith, it had nearly disappeared from every other part of the
county. Thus collected by fear, the situation of this family was one
of the most anxious suspense ; they lived under the excitement of daily
rumours of the most terrifying description, and were harassed by fre-
quent though vague alarms. Of these, an example is given by Mr
Goldsmith. One night the family, thus prepared to draw alarming in-
terpretations from every noise, or be terrified by some frightened visitor's
report of the doubtful appearances of night — when fancy hears voices,
and bushes can be mistaken for robbers — was thrown into a causeless
fright, and every preparation was made against an immediate attack:
his lordship marched out with his men to meet a force, which we are
strongly inclined to think, he did not expect to meet. Such was
happily the fact : his lordship had the honour of a soldier-like de-
monstration, and his good family were quit for the fear.

They had however to endure more substantial and anxious alarms.
Every thing in his lordship's deportment was such as to suggest fears
of the liveliest description to all those who had either honour, consci-
ence, or safety at heart. It was wavering and undecided; his intercourse
with the people betrayed the uncertainty of his mind, even to those
without, and must have been but too evident to those who surrounded
his board. To this company their noble protector often complained of
the deserted condition in which he was left by the government, to whom
he had, he said, appealed in vain. His lordship was at the time anxi-
ously halting between two opinions, the rebels were looking for his
adherence, and his family were nightly expecting an attack upon the
castle: the people saw their strength, and said that he should side
with them ; negotiations were kept up, and still deluding himself with
notions of duty, and with questionable compromises, this weak lord
fluttered as a bird under the fascination of the serpent; and flirted with
sedition till he fell into the snare.

Among the curious indications of this course of his lordship's mind,
we are inclined to set down a proposal which he is stated by Mr Gold-
smith to have discussed with himself and others of his own household :
which was no less than to take the rebels into his protection; and as
he was neglected by the state, avail himself of their services in behalf
of his majesty: a policy afterwards under altered circumstances,
adopted by wiser persons than lord Mayo. Against this singular method
of resisting rebellion, Mr Goldsmith protested ; and his lordship put
the proposition in another form equally creditable to his statesman-
ship and knowledge of mankind; he expressed his design "to subdue
those of Costilo by the men of Gallen, and those of Gallen by the
rebels that lived in the Carragh." On this important design he sent
to Sir Henry Bingham, and requested a conference at Castlebar. The
state of the counti'y did not permit the meeting, but lord Mayo sent
bis plan in writing, which was signed by Sir Henry and others: a fact
which shows the state of alarm in which they must have been at the
time.

It was immediately after this that the inmates of his lordship's house
began to notice proceedings from which, the more natural results of such
demonstrations were to be inferred. His lordship, no doubt desirous to

be right, could not help reversing the poet's reproof, " too fond of tho
right, to pursue the expedient;" he took the course which it would per-
haps have required a stronger spirit to avoid ; and while he talked of
resistance and the king's service, was under such pretexts daily con-
tracting deeper affinity with the parties who involved his path on every
side with a well-spun entanglement of menace and flattery. At this
time " Mr Goldsmith perceived motions towards popery in his lord-
ship's house; popish books of controversy were sent him; and Laugh-
lin Kelly, the titular archbishop of Tuam, came and reconciled his
lordship to the Roman church."

In the midst of his compliances, which were too evidently the result of
feebleness and fear, lord Mayo evidently preserved some sense of what
was due to his rank and the cause he had thus abandoned. It was,
perhaps, the delusion with which he flattered himself, that the influence
he should thus acquire over the people might enable him the better to
protect the protestants, and the members of his own family: the illusion
was humane and amiable, and may be set down to his credit. In this
he was destined to be sadly undeceived.

It was while the protestant family of lord Mayo were in this state
of harassing uncertainty, and the circumvallations of fear and artifice
were daily drawn closer round their walls, that his lordship heard
of the shockin<r and brutal abuse which Dr John Maxwell had received
from a rebel leader, into whose hands he had been betrayed by a
treacherous convoy. Lord Mayo, on learning of the circumstances,
wrote a reproachful letter to the rebel, whose name was Edmunde
Bourke : and gave him to understand, that he would treat him as an
enemy if he should hesitate to deal fairly with the bishop who was put
into his hands under the pretence of convoying him on with his com-
pany, of whom several were the clergy of his diocese. On this,
Bourke, who bad no notion of leaving his own purposes for the bishop,
brought him with his family, and left him within sight of lord Mayo's
castle. He was taken in and treated with all the care and hospitality
which was to be expected from the persons, and under the circumstan-
ces, and for a few days Dr Maxwell found himself among friends and
fellow-christians: he had with him his wife, three children, five or six
clergymen, and a numerous train of domestics, which the habits of the
day required, and the apprehensions of danger perhaps increased.
They remained ten days. Of course the bishop must have been anxi-
ous to reach home, and must have felt a natural reluctance to task
the kindness of his host much longer with so heavy an addition. But
is was now become a matter of serious danger to cross the country in
the state in which it was known to be.

In this embarrassment, it seems natural that any occasion would be
seized upon to forward the bishop's wishes: and an occasion was soon
found. Edmunde Bourke was still besieging Castlebar, when a letter
from Sir H. Bingham caused lord Mayo to march out against him with
all the men he could command. Bourke, whose object was not a battle
with armed men, and his lordship, who was perhaps no less prudent,
came to an agreement, that Bourke should give up his designs upon
Castlebar, and agree to convoy the garrison, with the bishop and
his party safe to Galvvay. Bourke agreed, and the matter was soon

MILES BOURKE, VISCOUNT MAYO. 97

arranged. The parties to be thus convoyed, had to be collected
from Castlebar, Kinturk, and from his lordship's castle, and were
to be brought together to the village of Shrule, from which they
were as soon as convenient to be delivered up to the safeguard of Ed-
munde Bourke, to escort them to Gal way. Lord Mayo, with his son,
the unfortunate Sir Theobald Bourke, at the head of his lordship's five
companies, accompanied them from their several quarters to the village
of Shrule, and did not leave them during their stay in that place.
Lord Mayo cannot indeed, on this occasion, be accused of the wilful
neglect of any precaution or care : he not only remained in the vilbage,
and slept with the bishop, but obtained from the titular archbishop of
Tuam a strong promise to send with the convoy a letter of protection,
and several priests and friars to see them safe in Galway.

It was on the evening of Saturday the 12th of February, 1641, that
his lordship, with the bishop's family, occupied the house of Serjeant
Lambert at this village. The village was filled with their companions,
the several parties and his lordship's soldiers, and felt heavily the
burthen of providing for such numbers. So that, though the follow-
ing day was Sunday, a strong entreaty was made that they should
travel on, by the principal persons of the surrounding barony. Lord
Mayo now dismissed his companies, and made such preparations as he
could for the ease and security of the travellers: he made his son and
others of the party dismount, and left his own servant, Edmunde
Dooney, a five pound note for the bishop, to be delivered when he should
part with them at Galway fort. The convoy, commanded by Murrough
na Doe O'Flaherty, and Ulick Bourke of Castlehacket, awaited the
party a mile from Shrule, at a place called Killemanagh: and thither
they now set out, accompanied by a party of lord Mayo's men, but
commanded at the moment by Edmund Bourke, who was brother
to the actual captain. The hour was far advanced towards noon, when
Bourke and his men had come out from mass, and all were ready to
start. The way to the nearest halting-place was ten miles, and Bourke
earnestly pressed them to get forward.

Lord Mayo was hardly out of sight, and the travellers had but
cleared the bridge of Shrule, when a sudden and violent assault was
made upon them by their perfidious guards. There was no struggle
except to fly, and that was too confused to be successful ; nor, in the
hurried and random tumult of the slaughter, where every individual
was compelled to mind himself or what was nearest where he stood,
was it possible for any one to carry away a precise description of the
scene of butchery which then took place. From the depositions of
individuals a few incidents are collected, and these probably describe
the remainder. When the bridge was just passed, a shot was fired
from between the bushes, whereupon Edmunde Bourke drew his sword,
and the examinant rode back to the bridge with the bishop's child
behind him, when he was charged with pikemen, but was rescued by
Walter Bourke MacRichard Mac Thomas MacRoe, who drew his sword
and made way for him. " Some," to use the language of deposi-
tions, " were shot, some stabbed with skeins, some run through with
pikes, some cast into the water and drowned; and the women that
were stripped naked, lying on their husbands to save them, werp ruu

II. G Ir.

98

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

through with pikes, so that very few escaped."* The bishop was
wounded in the head, the clergymen in his company were slain, except
one, a Mr Crowd who was so severely beaten that he shortly died.
The number slain is stated to have been sixty-five, and we see no rea-
son to doubt this statement. In such cases, it is to be granted that
exaggeration is to be suspected, but it is as likely at least on the side
of those who seek to extenuate a crime, as on the part of those who
stand in the place of accusers. And we should observe, that although
the loss of one life more or less, must practically be a matter of most
serious moment, nothing is gained in the point of extenuation; the
crime of murder does not increase and diminish by numerical propor-
tion. The point is frivolous ; but it is fair to state that the Roman
catholic gentry of the surrounding district, affirmed that the number
slain was not above thirty. It is more satisfactory to us to be enabled
to state, that the Roman catholic gentry of the country came forward
to the aid of the few who escaped from that hideous scene, and that they
brought them to their homes. Among the charitable persons who
distinguished themselves in this pious work, none deserved a more
grateful commemoration than " Bryan Kilkenny, the guardian of the
neighbouring abbey of Ross, who, though an aged man, was one of the
first that made haste to the rescue, and brought the bishop's wife and
children, and many others, to his monastery, where they were hospita-
bly entertained, to the best of the friar's ability, for several nights."|
Lord Mayo, when he proceeded on his way, rode towards Conge;
the house of his son, Sir Tibbot, and about six miles from Shrule.
On the way he stopped at the house of a Mr Andrew Lynch, intend-
ing there to await the arrival of Sir Tibbot. He was about to dis-
mount from his horse, when a horseman came up at full speed and
gave him the information of this disastrous event. Lord Mayo, over-
powered with horror and indignation, retired to a chamber, where he
gave expression to the most frantic exclamations of his vexation and
grief; he " then wept bitterly, pulling off his hair, and refusing to
hear any manner of persuasion or comfort." While he was in this
state, his son, who had barely escaped with his life, arrived, and " with
tears related the tragedy, but could not certainly tell who was killed
or who escaped; but being demanded by his father why he would
ever come away, but either have preserved their lives, or have died
with them ; answered, that when they began the slaughter, they
charged him (having his sword drawn against them) with their pikes
and muskets, and would have killed him, but that John Garvy, the
sheriff of the county of Mayo, (who was brother-in-law to Edmunde
Bourke, the principal murderer,) came in betwixt him and them, took
him in his arms, and, by the assistance of others, forcibly carried
him over the bridge." The deposition from which this extract is
taken goes on to say, that lord Mayo having proceeded to Conge, took
his bed for some days, after which he went, on the third day, to the
house of the titular archbishop, where he conformed to the church of
Rome — and heard mass. In two days more he attended a great meeting

Deposition, Lodjie.

■f Dublin Penny Journal, vol. i. p. 256.

MILES BOURKE, VISCOUNT MAYO. 99

of " the county," we presume a meeting of the Roman catholic gentry
and priesthood, at Mayo, and was " for ever after," says the deposi-
tion, " under the command of the Romish clergy." All the English
in the county of Mayo followed his lordship's example, with the excep-
tion of his own household; who are enumerated, on the authority of
Mr Goldsmith, by Lodge as follows: " the viscountess Mayo, the lady
Bourke, Mrs Burley, Mr Tarbock, Mr Hanmec, Owen the butler,
Alice the cookmaid, Mr and Mrs Goldsmith, and Grace, their child's
nurse." The condition of these can be conceived, Mr Goldsmith
was, by his lordship's permission, and by the lady's desire, allowed to
minister to the spiritual wants of this small congregation, " shut in by
fear on every side." As this gentleman appears under these circum-
stances to have exercised great zeal and boldness in resisting the new
opinions which were attempted every hour to be pressed upon the family,
he soon became the cause of remonstrance and reproach against his
protector. Lord Mayo was reproved by the titular archbishop, already
mentioned, for suffering him to exercise his ministry, and insisted that
he should " deliver him up to them." " What will ye do with him ?"
says my lord. " We will send him," said the bishop, " to his friends."
" You will," said my lord, " send him to Shrule to be slain, as you did
others ; but if you will give me six of your priests to be bound body
for body for his safe conveying to his friends, I will deliver him to
you." The bishop must have thought his six priests something more
than lawful change for one protestant divine, and perhaps rated rather
lowly the orthodoxy of his noble convert; he refused the compromise,
and prevailed with lord Mayo so far, that Mr Goldsmith was com-
pelled to be confined to a private part of the house, and kept in daily
fear of being murdered. On Sundays he was allowed to officiate
clandestinely for the servants, till at last lady Mayo summoned up
firmness to insist that he should be allowed openly to read prayers
and preach to the few protestants who remained.

Lord Mayo was appointed governor of the county of Mayo, and
admitted as one of their body by the supreme council of Kilkenny.
In this new dignity his lordship did no harm, and performed some
good services to humanity. On one occasion he interfered effectually
to prevent one of those frightful massacres of unresisting victims which
is the disgrace of that period. " The clan Jordans, the clan Steevens,
and clan Donells, came to Strade and Ballysahan, and gathered toge-
ther all the British they found there, closed them up in a house, (in
the same manner as had been done at Sligo, when a butcher with his
axe slew forty in one night) with an intent that night to murder them ;
but notice thereof having been given to the lord Mayo, he prevented
their wickedness, and preserved the poor innocent people from
slaughter." At last lord Mayo discovered that the councils of rebel-
lion could not continue to be participated in by the timid, the honour-
able, or the humane ; that none could endure the spirit of atrocity that
had been roused into action but those who shared its influence; and
that without this recommendation, it was not possible to escape the
suspicion and dislike of those who had themselves abandoned all the
ties of civilization: he had not contaminated his conscience by partici-

100 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

pating in any voluntary act of rebellion, and at length he found reso-
lution to break the sanguinary and degrading trammel, and made his
escape in 1644 from the supreme council.

Lord Mayo died in 1649; but his son, Sir Tibbot, or Theobald,
Burke, was, in a few years after, tried, and sentenced to be shot, upon
a most flagrantly unjust and iniquitous charge of having been concerned
in the massacre at Shrule. It is mentioned bv Lodge, that the soldiers
appointed to shoot him, missed him three times; "but at last a cor-
poral, blind of an eye, hit him. His property of fifty thousand acres
was forfeited by his attainder, and that of his father, who was at the
time dead. And his son was, by the charitable consideration of the
government, on his petition, sent to a free school in Dublin; and would
probably, had his own spirit and the affection of his relations permitted,
in course of time been apprenticed out to some handicraft. He was,
however, in some time sent for by his mother's relations, and lived to
be restored to his rank and paternal acres.

This branch of the Bourke family is, we believe, extinct. The title
has been revived in another line of the same name and race.

OWEN O NEILE.

DIED A. D. 1648.

At the commencement of the rebellion the Irish administration was
without energy, authority, wisdom, or resource; it was wholly inade-
cpiate to the occasion, timid, self-interested, feeble and stained with
numerous imputations, of which many were too true not to give a
colour to all: the nobility and gentry whose interests lay in the pre-
servation of peace and social order, were forced into the rebel councils
either from the want of defence or the fear of injustice; the foreign
rivals and enemies of England, watching over the progress of the strife
and waiting the favourable moment to throw their sword and gold into
the scale: but more than all together, for all this were nothing, Eng-
land divided against herself, and incapable of that effectual interposi-
tion which alone could overrule the tumultuary outbreaks of Irish
insurrection. For a time the question of rebellion became doubtful ;
for not only was there no power to quell its brawling, murdering, and
plundering factions, but the claim of allegiance and the authority of
laws and institutions appeared to be lost. The social convention which
imposes a due subordination on the better sense of mankind, was
broken up in the conflict between the fundamental authorities ; and it
soon became a question easier to ask than answer, which was the
government, and which the object of allegiance — the parliament
or the king; and how far a people who had their own peculiar in-
terests, and who under existing circumstances could be assisted
or controlled by neither, were at liberty to take their own part. We
do not, it is true, believe that external accidents, such as we have
stated here, can alter the true moral character of the intents, or
of the agencies at work in that disjointed period. We do not think
the justification of the rebel parties which we are to trace through

their several courses, at all commensurate with the excuses thus afforded
bv after events. But it is to our more decided purpose to observe that
by the vast and general confusion of rights and authorities, to which
we have adverted, the rebels gained a great accession of strength.
Many in whom it was virtue, honour, and loyalty, to be faithful to
king Charles, were led to connect his cause with the prosperity of re-
bellion; and many, on the other hand, whose aims were inconsistent
with the royal cause, found support in the adoption of the specious pre-
text of loyalty. Thus throughout this lengthened interval, the fate of all
the brawling- commotions which harassed the country was prolonged
into a lingering existence, by the state of affairs in England. Agitated
to the centre by her own troubles, England was not in a condition to
detach any effectual force on either side; and the insurgent parties
were thus left to brawl and battle as they might, among themselves.
As every reflecting reader will anticipate, various designs occupied
the leading spirits of disorganization, and they soon began to neutralize
each other, with contending* passions and opposed ambition. And this
was the second act of the drama. Then last came, as usual, the
event of popular revolutions and tragedies; the gathering retribution
of eight long years of crime and infatuation, was poured out upon this
most hapless country ; and the last act is closed with more than
poetical justice, by the crushing and indiscriminate hand of Cromwell
and his iron associates. Such is the outline of the remainder of this
volume.

The events from which we are now to start are of a character to
demand, as we have apprized the reader, considerable detail. The
rebellion was about to subside, from the experience which was begin-
ning to be felt of the utter inefficiency of the troops which its leaders
could bring into the field: they were discovering that their undisci-
plined and tumultuary mobs were more fit for the work of massacre and
plunder than to face an enemy in the field; and the defeats they had
sustained from Stewart, Ormonde, Coote, and other government leaders
with comparatively small forces, had so discouraged Sir Phelim O'Neile
and his confederates, that they had begun to prepare for their escape
from the country; when other concurrent causes long in preparation,
arrested their meditated desertion and gave new animation to the con-
test. Leland mentions the arrival of Owen O'Neile, as the main
incident which renewed the subsiding zeal of the rebels; and undoubt-
edly from his arrival in the moment of deepest distress, when the
chiefs were on the point of flight, they must have derived new energv
and hope. But from our perusal of many of Leland's authorities and even
from himself, we are inclined to date this renovation from a few months
earlier; when the certainty of his coming and the accession of foreign
supplies must have been foreknown. Owen O'Neile landed in July ;
early in March the Irish prelates, who had with little exception hitherto
held back from any countenance of the rebels, came forward with
open declarations in their favour. As Carte, quoting a letter* of Sir
C. Coote, observes "the Romish clergy who (as the lords-justices say)
had hitherto walked somewhat invisibly in all these works of darkness,

Carte, I. p. 3 If.

102 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

now began openly to justify that rebellion, which they were before
supposed underhand to promote." That the Roman catholic prelates
must have desired the success of this rebellion, may be regarded as a
matter of course; and, considering their peculiar position and class
of duties, it is less an imputation to this body to make this affirma-
tion, than it is their just praise to have withheld their personal
sanction from the revolting and mischievous atrocity by which it had
been characterized. And if it be just to suspect that they had enter-
tained the favourable sentiment assumed, it is certainly due to fairness
to observe, that there should be strong circumstantial ground for
accusing them of the infamous participation supposed in Sir C. Coote's
letter. It cannot for a moment be believed, that a body of men so
intelligent, whose main occupation was the administration of the
interests of the Christian religion, under any form, could allow them-
selves to imagine a cause which they deemed sacred, to be connected
with the fiendlike atrocities and the superstitious blasphemies of a
deluded peasantry; whose conduct, injurious most of all to the religion
whose name their ignorance abused, is rather to be attributed to
their utter ignorance than to their creed. Of this there are indeed too
many, and too obvious proofs. The prelates, unquestionably desirous
for the advancement of their church to the ascendancy which they
deemed to belong to her by right, would have considered such an
event as a full compensation for the horrors of such a rebellion; if we
were to assent to their principle, we should easily arrive at the same
inference. And when they saw the turn which events were likely to
take, and were encouraged in their consistent duty, by the assurance
of large succours from abroad, they necessarily stepped forward to
extract what they considered to be good from that which they knew
to be evil. The best that can be said is to be found in the considera-
tion, that with some exceptions the Roman catholic clergy had strenu-
ously resisted the crimes of their deluded congregations; and the
conduct of one of the body may be mentioned, as indicative at least
that their convention in Kilkenny was no long concerted movement, but
a change of purpose on the demand of occasion. The titular bishop
of Meath had throughout, from the beginning, exerted himself
strenuously and efficaciously in opposition to the rebellion, which he
declared to be groundless and unjust; and by his remonstrances pre-
vailed with many noblemen and gentry of that diocese to be still. The
same resistance which he offered to the rebels, he afterwards offered to
the prelates. And this it maybe supposed was not permitted without
censure. The rebels complained aloud: and the synod of Kells com-
manded the dissentient prelate who refused to attend their meeting, to
retract on pain of having a complaint made to the Pope.

It was probably at the synod of Kells called by Hugh O'Neile titular
of Armagh, that the general synod of the Irish prelates at Kilkenny was
projected and resolved. At this latter on the 10th May, 1642, the titular
archbishops of Armagh, Cashel, and Tuam, with six other bishops,
the proxies of five more, with other dignitaries of the church of Rome,
assembled and declared the war just and lawful.* To avoid the risk

* Curie.

OWEN O'NEILE. 103

of misstating or omitting1 any of the more peculiar and distinguishing'
resolutions of this meeting, we shall here offer a few extracts from its
own acts ; important, as best manifesting the feelings and the politi-
cal character of Ireland, in the time of which we write. As they
would occupy many pages if given in extenso, we select all that is in
any way to our purpose; as stated in

" Acts agreed upon, ordained and concluded in the general con-
gregation held at Kilkenny, the 10th, 11th and 13th days of
May, 1642, by those prelates whose names are subscribed, the
proctors of such other prelates as then were absent being pre-
sent, together with the superiors of the regulars, and many
other dignitaries and learned men, as well in divine, as in com-
mon law, with divers pastors and others of the catholick clergy
of all Ireland, whose names are likewise hereafter set down.
" 1st. Whereas the war which now in Ireland the catholicks do
maintain against sectaries, and chiefly against puritans, for the defence
of the catholick religion, for the maintenance of the prerogative and
the royal rights of our gracious king Charles, for our gracious queen
so unworthily abused by the puritans, for the honour, safety and
health of their royal issue, for to avert and refrain the injuries done
unto them, for the conversion of the just, and lawful safeguard, lib-
erties and rights of Ireland ; and lastly, for the defence of their own
lives, fortunes, lands and possessions : whereas 1 said this war is by
the catholicks undertaken for the foresaid causes against unlawful
usurpers, oppressors and their enemies, chiefly puritans ; and that
hereof we are informed as well by divers and true remonstrances of
divers provinces, counties and noblemen, as also by the unanimous
consent and agreement of almost the whole kingdom in this war and
union: We therefore declare that war openly catholick, to be lawful
and just, in which war if some of the catholicks be found to proceed
out of some particular and unjust title, covetousness, cruelty, revenge or
hatred, or any such unlawful private intentions, we declare them
therein grievously to sin, and therefore worthy to be punished, and
refrained with ecclesiastical censures, if, advised thereof, they do not
amend.

" 2d. Whereas the adversaries do spread divers rumours, do write
divers letters, and under the king's name do print proclamations, which
are not the king's, by which means divers plots and dangers may ensue
unto our nation; we therefore, to stop the way of untruth and for-
geries of the political adversaries, do will and command, that no such
rumours, letters, or proclamations, may have place or belief, until it be
known in a national council whether they truly proceed from the king,
left to his own freedom, and until agents of this kingdom hereafter to
be appointed by the national council, have free passage to his majesty,
whereby the kingdom may be certainly informed of his majesty's inten-
tion and will.

" 3d. Whereas no family, city, commonwealth, much less kingdom,
may stand without union and concord, without which this kingdom
for the present standeth in most danger, we think it therefore
necessary that all Irish peers, magistrates, noblemen, cities, and pro-

104 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

vinces, may be tied together with the holy bond of union and concord,
and that they frame an oath of union and agreement which they shall
devoutly, and christianly take, and faithfully observe. And for the
conservation and exercise of this union, we have thought fit to ordain
the ensuing points.

" 4th. We straightly command all our inferiors, as well churchmen
as laymen, to make no distinction at all between the old and ancient
Irish, and no alienation, comparison, or difference, between provinces,
cities, towns or families; and lastly, not to begin, or forward any
emulations, or comparisons whatsoever.

" 5th. That in every province of Ireland there be a council made
up both of clergy and nobility, in which council shall be so many
persons at least as are counties in the province ; and out of every city
or notable town two persons.

"6th. Let one. general council of the whole kingdom be made, both
of the clergy, nobility, cities, and notable towns; in which council
there shall be three out of every province, and out of every city one,
or where cities are not, out of the chiefest towns. To this council the
provincial councils shall have subordination; and from thence to it
may be appealed, until this national council have opportunity to
sit together. Again if any thing of great importance do occur, or
be conceived in one province, which by a negative vote is rejected in
the council of one province, let it be sent to the councils of other
provinces ; except it be such a matter as cannot be delayed, and which
doth not pertain to the weal-publick of the other provinces.

" 7th. Embassage sent from one province to foreign nations shall
be held as made from the rest of the provinces, and the fruit or benefit
thereof shall be imparted and divided between the provinces and cities
which have more need thereof, chiefly such helps and fruits as proceed
from the bountiful liberality of foreign princes, states, prelates, or
others whatsoever; provided always that the charge and damage be
proportionably recompensed.

" 9th. Let a faithful inventory be made in every province of the
murthers, burnings, and other cruelties which are permitted by the
puritan enemies, with a quotation of the place, day, cause, manner, and
persons, and other circumstances, subscribed by one of publick au-
thority.

" 17th. Whereas diverse persons do diversely carry themselves
towards this cause; some with helps and supplies do assist the adver-
saries ; others with victuals and arms ; others with their advice and
authority, supporting as it were the contrary cause ; some also as
neuters behaving themselves; and others, lastly, neglecting their oath,
do forsake the catholick union and cause; we do therefore declare
and judge all and every such as do forsake this union, do fight for our
enemies, accompany them in their war, defend or in any other way
assist them, as giving them weapons, victuals, council or favour, to be
excommunicated, and by these presents do excommunicate them; pro-
vided that this present decree shall be first published in every diocese
respectively, and having received admonition beforehand, which shall
supply the treble admonition otherwise requisite, and we do hereby
declare, so it be made in the place where it may easily come to the

OWEN O'NEILE. 105

knowledge of those whom it toucheth. But as touching' judgment
and punishment of the neuters, we leave it to the ordinaries of every place
respectively, so that the ordinaries themselves be not contrary to the
judgment and opinion of this congregation; in which cause we com-
mit power to the metropolitans or archbishops to proceed against such
ordinaries, according to the common course of law, wherein they are
to be very careful and speedy; and if the metropolitans be found here-
in careless or guilty, let them be liable to such punishment as is
ordained by the holy canons, and let them be accused to the see apos-
tolick.

" 1 8th. We ordain a decree t at all and every such as from the
beginning of this present war, have invaded the possessions of goods
as well moveable as unmoveable, spiritual or temporal of any catholick,
whether Irish or English, or also of any Irish protestant being* not
adversary of this cause, and to detain any such goods, shall be ex-
communicated.

" 20th. We will and declare all those that murther, dismember, o?
grievously strike, all thieves, unlawful spoilers, robbers of any goods,
extorters, together with all such as favour, receive, or any ways assist
them, to be excommunicated, and so to remain, until they completely
amend, and satisfy no less than if they were namely proclaimed ex-
communicated, and for satisfaction of such crimes hitherto committed
to be enjoined, we leave to the discretion of the ordinaries and con-
fessors how to absolve them.

" 2 1 st. Tradesmen for making weapons, or powder brought into this
country, or hereafter to be brought in, shall be free from all taxations
or customs; as also all merchants as shall transport into this country
such wares as are profitable for the catholick cause, as arms and
powder, may lawfully traffick without paying any custom, for commo-
dities brought out of this kingdom, or transported hither of that kind;
and let this be proclaimed in all provinces, cities, and towns.

" 22d. We think it convenient, that in the next national congrega-
tion, some be appointed out of the nobility and clergy, as ambassadors
to be sent in the behalf of the whole kingdom, unto the kings of
France and Spain, to the Emperor, and his Holiness, and those to be
of the church prelates, or one of the nobility and a lawyer."

In addition to these resolutions, which present a fair view of the
political opinions and general character of the party from whom they
came, a further view is to be obtained of their more immediate and
personal object, from certain propositions specified in an oath of asso-
ciation framed at this meeting, and designed to be taken by all confed-
erates of their party. In this are stated as objects to be maintained
by the swearer, that the Roman catholic religion was to be restored
to its full splendour and lustre, as it was in the reign of Henry VII.
That all penal and restrictive laws were to be annulled — and that " all
primates, archbishops, bishops, ordinaries, deans, deans and chapters,
archdeacons, chancellors, treasurers, chaunters, provosts, wardens of
collegiate churches, prebendaries, and other dignitaries, parsons, vicars,
and other pastors of the Roman catholick secular clergy, and their re-
spective successors, shall, have, hold, and enjoy, all the churches and
church-livings, in as large and ample manner, as the late protestant

100 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

clergy respectively enjoyed the same on the 1st day of October, in the
year of our Lord 1 64 1 ; together with all the profits, emoluments, per-
quisites, liberties, and the rights to their respective sees and churches,
belonging as well in all places, now in the possession of the con-
federate catholicks, as also in all other places that shall be recovered
by the said confederate catholicks from the adverse party, within this
kingdom, saving to the Roman catholick laity their rights, according
to the law of the land."

The assembly of the lords and deputies from the counties was the im-
mediate result of the arrangements made by the congregation of prelates ;
in conformity with the intent of their summoners they proceeded to
pass resolutions to maintain the rights of the church of Rome. They
adopted the common law of England and Irish statutes, so far as they
were agreeable to their religion, and not contrary to Irish liberty; they
confirmed the authority of the king, but declared against that of his
Irish government. They then entered into arrangements for the govern-
ment of the country by their own authority, for then each county was
to have its council of twelve, which was to decide all civil causes and
to nominate all public officers with the exception of sheriff's. From
these councils there lay an appeal to the provincial council, composed
of two deputies from each county, to sit four times in the year ; and
lastly, this council might be appealed from, to the supreme council of
twenty-four, elected by the general assembly. This last was to govern
the country and conduct the war. It is only material here to add, that
in the very first constitution there is to be discerned an important
element of the strong party divisions among the confederates, which
are presently to occupy our attention ; in adopting the oath of associa-
tion, which the clerical assembly had prepared for themselves and
their party, they rejected the clause already quoted, by which the per-
son swearing was bound not to consent to any peace, until the Roman
catholic church should be reinstated in its full splendour. Instead of
this, they were content to stipulate for the freedom of their worship.
The disposition thus indicated, was quickly shown in the long-con-
tinued negotiation for peace and in the cessation, which was presently
discussed and settled; but prevented from coming to a definitive settle-
ment by the strenuous and successful manoeuvres of the nuncio Rin-
uncini with the aid of Owen O'Neile.

We come now to Owen O'Neile. He was more indebted to his high
reputation, obtained in a long course of foreign service, than to the
claim of descent, for the anxious earnestness with which his coming
had been sought and his arrival welcomed by his countrymen. In
point of lineal pretension to the rank of the O'Neile, to which he
for some time appeared to have pretended, his claim was more than
balanced by that of Sir Phelim, whose descent, though not derived from
the last possessor, was unadulterated by illegitimacy, which affects the
line of Colonel Owen at three successive steps, from Con Boccagh to
his father Art. While Sir Phelim derived from Owen the grand-
father to the same Con Boccagh.

Con, created earl of Tyrone by Henry VII., had, as the reader
knows, two sons — the notorious Shane already noticed, and Matthew,

a bastard, who was created baron of Dungannon and appointed his suc-
cessor, but slain at the instigation of Shane. This Matthew left
several illegitimate sons, of whom one died, leaving an illegitimate
son of his own name, to whom Philip IV. of Spain gave his father's
regiment and letters of legitimation, which, however, were to no pur-
pose, sought to be confirmed at Rome. This therefore would seem to
be the nearest claim to the representation of the baron of Dungannon.
But this person had either too little activity or too much good sense, to
prosecute a claim so likely to be productive of more buffets than acres;
and died without any effort to regain the honours of his race. Another
son of the baron of Dungannon, also illegitimate, had lived to trans-
mit his name by the same questionable title to a son, Art O'Neile, who
we are left to presume, broke the custom of the family by leaving a
family of sons, born in wedlock; of these Owen was the youngest.*

Owen served in the Spanish army and obtained early promotion. He
was a person of very considerable experience and ability ; well versed
in the ways of men, brave, cautious, skilful in war, and possessing the
manners and habits of a foreign gentleman. Having passed through
all the subordinate ranks he was made a colonel, and obtained very dis-
tinguished reputation, by his successful defence of Arras, against the
French in 1640.

After the violence of the first irregular outbreak was subdued,
more by the separate efforts of individuals than by the councils or re-
sources of the government, the insurrection began to subside as sud-
denly as it had commenced. There was no real strength, or with the
exception of those who were the depositaries of a foreign design, no
real inclination to continue a strife, of which the loss of life and pro-
perty had been so severely felt on either side.

The state of the rebel chiefs in Ulster was at the point of despera-
tion, when a fresh impulse was given to their hopes, by the news of
the arrival of colonel Owen O'Neile, who in the middle of July, landed
in Donegal, with arms and ammunition, and one hundred officers. The
general effect thus produced was immediate and extensive, and the
courage and hopes of the rebels were universally revived. This re-
sult was confirmed both by the conduct of Owen O'Neile, and the
coincidence of other favourable circumstances; other formidable arma-
ments and supplies, began to crowd in, in rapid succession from foreign
ports. Of these, two ships arrived in the harbour of Wexford with
military stores, and colonel Thomas Preston followed with a ship of
the line and two frigates, with a train of artillery, a company of en-
gineers, and five hundred officers. Twelve other vessels soon after
arrived with further stores, officers, and men, sent by Richelieu, and
disciplined in continental war. The character and consistency of the
rebel force was thus at once raised to a military footing; while the
English had deteriorated in an equal degree. The increasing dissensions
between the king and parliament were on the point of kindling into
war; the powers on either side were collecting into a state of anxiou3
and watchful concentration ; neither men nor money could be spared,
nor was there a thought to be bestowed on Ireland farther than, as it

* Carte, I. ^49.

108 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

might in any way be the excuse for preparation, or the pretext for
levies. The Irish government, and the commanders, who had hitherto
kept a superiority under all disadvantages in the field, had exhausted
their efforts, and were quite unprepared for this fresh infusion of vigour
in the rebel party. The rebels, besides being well supplied, command-
ed the channel, seized the supplies, and cut off the trade of Dublin
and every other port within the reach of their cruisers.

O'Neile had the double advantage of caution and decision, he wasted
no time in inactivity, but at once proceeded to take advantage of these
favourable circumstances. He was " a man of clear head and good
judgment, sober, moderate, silent, excellent in disguising his senti-
ments, and well versed in the arts and intrigues of courts."* On his
arrival a meeting was held at Kinard, the castle of Sir Phelim, where
he was unanimously declared their head by the rebel gentry of Ulster,
a post soon confirmed by the council of Kilkenny. The first step he
took was creditable to him, but must have been galling to the pride of
Sir Phelim. He publicly declared his horror and detestation of the
robberies and massacres, which till then had been the main conduct
of the rebellion, and most of all of Sir Phelim, Colonel O'Neile
told his sanguinary and brutal kinsman, that, he deserved to receive
himself the cruelties he had inflicted ; he burned the houses of several
of the notorious murderers at Kinard, where Sir Phelim had collected
a ruffian vicinity around his house, stained as it was by every detestable
outrage against the laws of God and man. He next addressed himself
to fortify Charlemont fort, against an expected siege. When describing
the reduced condition of the government, and the destitution of the
English of all present means of resistance, we should perhaps not have
omitted to estimate the large force of general Monroe, who at
the head of ten thousand Scots, occupied a strong position in
Carrickfergus, and held the command of Ulster; but the reasons for
this omission will presently appear. Monroe had his own objects
independent of the settlement of Irish affairs, or he had his orders
from those who had an opposite purpose; without this allowance his
conduct was such as to betray no small incapacity for offensive warfare.
He avoided all direct interference when it might have been of decisive
avail, and contented himself with the seizure of such forts and castles
as might be effected without any risk ; and we cannot doubt that,
the agreement by which they were thus put into possession of the
strongest and most important province of this island, was altogether
designed to circumvent and embarrass the king-, to overrule any cir-
cumstances from which he might hope to derive an advantage, and
to occupy the ground for the future designs of the parliamentary
leaders. True to this convention, Monroe steadily resisted the demon-
strations in favour of the royal cause, seized on the known adherents
of the king, refused all aid to the government leaders, and let the
rebels do as they pleased, so long as this course was compatible with
his own safety and the designs of his real party, the parliamentarians
of England.

In the month of August he was joined by lord Leven, with

* Carte.

OWEN O'NEILE. 109

the remainder of the stipulated army from Scotland. Lord Leven
addressed a letter to O'Neile, in -which he expressed his astonishment
that one of his rank and respectable reputation should have come to
Ireland to support a cause so bad. O'Neile replied, that he had a
better right to defend his own country, than his lordship to march into
England against his king-.

Lord Leven's exploits were limited to this effort of diplomacy, he
returned to Scotland, having assured Monroe that he would be defeat-
ed if once O'Neile should get an army together. Before his departure
he refused to permit the removal of the government stores from Car-
rickfergus. This act of opposition, with the continued inaction of the
Scotch under Monroe, was perhaps correctly interpreted by the Irish
when they assumed, that there was nothing to be apprehended from
Monroe, with his ten thousand Scots and an equal force of English and
Irish troops ; he lay still, and suffered O'Neile to make all his arrange-
ments, and to collect and discipline his army till the following spring.
In the mean time the army under Monroe was not improving in its
condition. The parliament, which merelv designed to overawe the
country and to hold it in occupation, were sparing in their supplies:
the regiments of Stewart, Cole, &c, who had commanded in the kiug's
name, were altogether excluded from the commission of parliament,
and received no pay during that year, in which their nearly unsup-
ported efforts had actually suppressed the rebellion. The rebels
were better provided for by the continual supplies from abroad: on
the 20th of October, two thousand muskets came from the Pope to
Wexford, of which five hundred were sent by the council of Kilkenny
to O'Neile.

In this general state of things, the remainder of the year 1642
passed away. The rebels were obtaining strength in most quarters;
and the English officers, who have already appeared in many severe
toils and brave achievements, were with their own unsupported and
impoverished resources, maintaining a doubtful, but brave and skilful
resistance, about the counties of the ancient pale. Efforts such as
they made to obtain money, were met by promises which were not
kept. The parliament which had no wish either to part with means or
to end the rebellion, artfully directed applications to the king, which
were brought forward by their own adherents, in the obvious hope of
inducing him to waste his means on the rebellion, as well as to compro-
mise himself on one side or the other. For the rebels had assumed the
place of loyalists, and a little backwardness on the part of his majesty
might be interpreted into a formidable accusation, while the contrary
course must have the effect of involving him in fresh hostility, and a
ruinous division of his resources. Of these incidents we shall have to
bring forward large details.

Monroe lay still till the next May; but, finding his resources fast
diminishing, and feeling himself pressed by approaching necessities,
while the growth of a formidable enemy was beginning to control his
motions, he was at length incited to effort. He had wasted and impov-
erished the country round Carrickfergus, and now hoped to obtain
relief by the surprise of O'Neile; with this purpose he marched his
army with fast and secret expedition into Armagh. Owen O'Neile

110

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

occupied a position in which Charlemont fort was included, with a
small body of about four hundred men. His antagonist had conducted
his approach with successful caution; and, little dreaming of an enemy,
he was out hunting when his sight was arrested by a gleam of ^ eapons,
and the rapid advance of a large host, which his experienced eye re-
cognised for an enemy. Without an instant's hesitation he spurred at
full speed to his fortress. He was late to escape a disadvantageous,
because very unequal collision, but the inequality of force was more
than balanced by the clear head and cool resolution with which he
availed himself of his knowledge of the ground. For an hour he
resisted the utmost efforts of Monroe's men, in a lane thickly enclosed
with copses, and at last succeeded in withdrawing into the fort without
the loss of a man. Monroe, thinking to forage through the sur-
rounding country seized on every pass, and collected a considerable
supply of cattle; but on the following day, he was attacked by colonel
Sandford, and routed with great loss.

O'Neile was next menaced by a small army under the command of
lord Montgomery and colonel Chichester. He soon ascertained that
they merely came to look for spoil, and wisely resolving not to throw
away his resources, he was content to foil their purpose by causing
the cattle to be driven away. He then pursued his way towards
Leitrim, but in passing through the county of Monaghan, he had the
ill fortune to meet a small body of regular soldiers under the com-
mand of Sir Robert Stewart and his brother, at Clonish, on the borders
of Fermanagh. The results of this incident we have already had
occasion to descrihe. The force of Stewart was about half that of
O'Neile, but owing to the great numbers of cattle and of country
people under his escort, the latter commander was only enabled to
bring 1 600 men to the encounter. In this respect they were there-
fore equal. O'Neile had, however, the advantage of a strong position
guarded by a difficult pass. In despite of this advantage, which must
of itself have been decisive, with troops of equal efficiency, Stewart
forced the pass, and defeated Owen O'Neile with prodigious slaughter.

Owen O'Neile, who had in this affair a very narrow escape from
being slain in an encounter with captain Stewart, after the fight
escaped back to Charlemont, from whence after a few days, according
to his previous intention, he made his way to Leitrim. There he
continued for the purpose of recruiting his forces, and watching for
an effective occasion to come forward again; and such was his expedi-
tion and popularity, that twelve days had not elapsed when he was
enabled again to move on into Westmeath, as strong as ever in men.

Some time previous to the battle of Clonish, the marquess of Ormonde
had the kind's directions to enter into treaty with the rebels ; the
condition of his affairs made him look to Ireland as a last resource; and
about the time that O'Neile was on bis flight to Charlemont fort, the
marquess was opening a negotiation with the council of Kilkenny. Of
this, we reserve the detail for a more appropriate place. This nego-
tiation was protracted and interrupted during its course by the designs
of the several parties engaged on either side. It will be here enough
to mention, that the national assembly was composed of two parties,
wholly distinct in their objects. The moderate lay party, who were

OWEN O'NEILE. Ill

earnestly desirous to bring matters to a pacific termination, such as to
secure their properties and personal immunities; and the ecclesias-
tical party, which, supported both by the court of Rome and by the
popular sense, were for pushing their real or supposed advantages,
and resisting all treaty short of a full and entire reduction of the
country to the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of the Roman see. In this
divided state of the rebel party, the negotiation was rendered ad-
ditionally precarious by the hostile demonstrations of Owen O'Neile
and of Preston, who were more immediately under the influence of
the ecclesiastical party; nor was it less the desire of the marquess
of Ormonde to avail himself of these warlike demonstrations, if
possible to obtain in the mean time some decided advantage in
the field. Another consideration rendered this desirable ; both
O'Neile and Preston were endeavouring to place themselves under
circumstances such that in case of a cessation of arms they would be
enabled to extend their position, and organize efficiently along the
borders of the pale, an army by which on the first violation of the
treaty, or on its termination, they would have a command over these
counties, And this was the more to be apprehended, as the resources
of the government parties in Ireland, (also twofold, royal and parlia-
mentary,) were likely during any cessation to be absorbed by the
English rebellion. Such is a summary sketch of the state of affairs,
at the time of O'Neile's advance to Mullingar, about the 24th of June,
1643.

Under these circumstances, every effort to bring together any effi-
cient body of men commanded by a competent leader, against the
strong armies of O'Neile and Preston, amounting to upwards of
1 2,000 men, was found quite impracticable. The king, engaged in a
treaty with the rebels, was more anxious to obtain than able to afford
means for resistance ; the parliament were as little willing to waste a
penny on a contest of little direct importance. There was therefore
no effective force in the field against the rebels ; and while lord
Castlehaven was taking possession of the forts in Wicklow and the
Queen's County, and Preston with 7000 men securing the harvests of
Meath, Owen O'Neile with upwards of 5000 foot and 700 good cavalry,
entered Westmeath with the same design ; nor did he stop, till he had
stripped the country " from the county of Cavan to the barony of
Slane."* He was then joined by an army under Sir James Dillon,
and with him took the castles of Killallan, Balratty, Ballibeg, Beck-
liffe, Balsonne, and Ardsallagh, and laid siege to Athboy, with the
intention to take all the places of strength in Meath. The Irish
government in Dublin had to no purpose endeavoured to oppose these
advances, by drawing a portion of the only efficient force in their pos-
session, and then under the command of Monroe in Ulster. To this
Monroe objected, and refused to part with any portion of the army
under his orders. It was while O'Neile was engaged in the siege of
Athboy, that he was attacked by a small party under lord Moore, who,
as we have already related, lost his life by a cannon shot. The
government force were not enabled, however, to keep the field long

* (.'arte.

112 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

enough to offer any effectual check, and the Irish confederates went
on taking castles without any resistance, until the treaty conducted by
the marquess of Ormonde ended in a cessation, concluded on the 15th
September, between the marquess and the commissioners.

During the continuance of this cessation, many occurrences both
civil and military, in both countries, were working to complicate the
position of the several parties. They may for the present, be summed
in the two facts, that the affairs of the king were becoming more urgent
and desperate, and those of the parliament more ascendant. In Ireland
one strong party continued to labour successfully to prevent any ac-
commodation of a permanent nature between the king and the rebels.
This party the king on his part endeavoured to conciliate by manoeuvres
(which we shall hereafter relate) of lamentable perverseness and dupli-
city. The parliament, anxious to prevent his obtaining aid from this
country, resenting the assistance he had already received after the Ces-
sation, and also apprehending the result of a further treaty, which
might end in placing Ormonde at the head of the moderate party of
the confederates, entered into a nearer understanding with Monroe
and the army of Ulster, to whom they sent an immediate supply, at the
same time ordering them to commence certain hostile movements, at
the same time that their faithful officer Coote in the west, was directed
to reduce Sligo.

The Scotch, who had been latterly wavering and on the point of
coming to an understanding with Ormonde, were happy to close with
terms so desirable; and active hostilities were thus commencing while
a dilatory treaty of peace was arriving at its conclusion. We are now
brought to the year 1645, in which these combinations reached their
effective results. At this time, the cabinet of Rome alarmed by the re-
ports of a peace in which the confederates were to abandon the cause of
the church, and to be united under a leader not in its interests, sent over
the nuncio Rinuncini, with a view still more effectually to arrest
in their progress proceedings so ungrateful to the policy of his court.
Rinuncini had received for the purpose of his mission £12,000 from
the pope, of which he expended the half in arms and military stores,
and remitted the remainder to Ireland. After considerable delays in
France, where it was attempted by the queen of England and her
friends to cajole him from all his purposes, he reached this country
in July, and lost no time in protesting against any peace not framed
at Rome, or in any way opposed to the interests of the pope. He
objected to any treaty with the marquess of Ormonde, recommended
union and the strenuous prosecution of war, without regard to the
king or any thought of peace. He urged the expediency and neces-
sity of looking to the pope as their only support and head ; but as
there was a very strong party opposed to these views, and as the
general sense of the confederates was in favour of the course against
which he thus declared, it became necessary to look for some other
force to counterbalance this temper, and to overawe the Irish laity
into compliance: and for this he had recourse to O'Neile.

We have thus arrived (by a forced march,) to the year 1645, when
Monroe, with the army under his orders, had been induced to decide
for the parliament. Owen O'Neile was especially recommended to

OWEN O'NEILE. 113

the nuncio by many considerations. He was not alone a leader of tried
ability commanding a strong force, but he was discontei ited with a
treaty of which the conclusion was to be also the end of his own ex-
pectations ; his interest was the prolongation of a war, which, under
the name of a restoration, would put him into possession of lands, once
the property of his ancestors. The force he had collected was com- j
posed of a most dissolute class of persons, who had no home or means
of subsistence, and chiefly maintained themselves by irregular service,
eitber as soldiers or robbers, as occasion served; they were zealous
for the continuance of war, which afforded their subsistence, and only
desired to avail themselves to the fullest of its opportunities for plunder.
These were easily collected, and were the more adapted to the im-
mediate views of the nuncio, as they were deeply incensed against the
moderate party, who were then preponderant in the council, and had
been so provoked by their atrocities that they had ordered them to be
resisted by force of arms. To their leader, therefore, Rinuncini ad-
dressed himself, and assured him that his entire means should be em-
ployed for the support of his army; and, in earnest of this promise,
he gave him a considerable sum. With such strong inducements,
O'Neile advanced toward Armagh.

On receiving intelligence of this, Monroe prepared to repel an ad-
vance which he felt to be an encroachment on his limits, and of which
the permission must be hazardous to his further expectation of main-
taining his own position of authority. He marched towards the city of
Armagh, and learned on his way that the troops of Owen O'Neile
were encamped at Benburb, a place nearly six miles from Armagh,
and memorable for the bloody battles of which, in earlier times, it had
been the scene: thither Monroe directed his march on the following
morning.

O'Neile was advantageously posted between two hills, with a wood on
his rear and the Blackwater on his right. He had drawn out his
cavalry upon one of the hills by which his position was flanked, when
he saw the forces of Monroe, about 6000 strong, marching on the other
bide of the river. He had also heard of a reinforcement which was
coming up to their aid from Coleraine. As the Blackwater was con-
sidered difficult to pass, O'Neile considered an immediate attack not
to be expected, and that he might therefore detach a strong party to
meet George Monroe, who was bringing the expected companies to
join his brother. G. Monroe was advancing from Dungannon,
when he saw the Irish cavalry on the approach; he was at the instant
fortunately near some strongly fenced fields, in which he drew out his men
so advantageously that the cavalry could not charge them. A detach-
ment of foot was yet coming up at a distance, and it was hard to say
what might be the result of their arrival ; but other incidents had mean-
while occurred, a cannonade was heard in the direction of the main
army, and the approaching detachment turning at the sound, hurried
back upon their way.

Contrary to the expectation of Owen O'Neile, the Scotch had con-
trived to ford the river at a place called Battle Bridge, near Kinard,
and were soon rapidly advancing in his front. To retard their approach,
O'Neile sent a regiment to occupy a pass on the way, a brisk fire

ii. " !>■•

114 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

from Monroe's artillery dislodged them, and they returned in good
order. It was yet, in the strong and guarded position which he
possessed, easy for O'Neile to prevent an immediate attack, and he
resolved on delaying this event for some hours. He observed, that
the sun would towards evening be on his rear, and as it sunk towards
the forest, present a disadvantage of the most formidable nature to the
Scots, by casting its glare upon their faces. Nor indeed is it easy
to conceive a circumstance more likely to decide a fight. With this
view, Owen O'Neile exerted no inconsiderable skill for four hours in
keeping up a succession of skirmishes, and baffling the attention of his
enemy by manoeuvres adapted to keep him engaged without any decided
step towards a general attack. He was also in expectation of a strong"
party which was on its march to join him. It was near sunset when
this expected reinforcement came up: Monroe had mistaken them for
his brother's party, and experienced no slight vexation when he saw
them join the enemy. He also saw that it was impossible now to com-
mence the battle unless under great disadvantages, and there was even
much to be apprehended should his antagonist assume the offensive.
He very injudiciously ordered a retreat — than winch under the cir-
cumstances described, no movement could be so certain to bring on
an attack and to throw every advantage into the hands of O'Neile.
The two armies were but a few hundred paces asunder, and the
Scottish lines were beginning their retrogressive movement, when
just as their order was irrecoverable, the Irish came rushing impetu-
ously but in excellent order down the hill, horse and foot, and were
instantaneously charging through the broken lines of Monroe's army.
To render the charge more decisive, Owen had commanded them to
reserve their fire until they were within a few pikes' length of the
Scots, an order which they executed with perfect accuracy. Under
this unexpected and terrific attack, the Scots confounded, separated,
and dazzled by a nearly horizontal sun, could not of course have any
hope of resistance. Their native sturdiness of character, and their
habits of discipline which rendered them reluctant to fly before an
enemy which they despised, much aggravated the slaughter ; for scat-
tered into groups and confused masses, they were slain in detail and
without the power of resistance. Some of their parties were more
fortunate than others, in being enabled to act together, but with little
avail, for they were isolated, nor was there any considerable body of
Monroe's army enabled to act in concert. Among the most desperate
instances of protracted resistance, was that of lord Blaney, who fought
at the head of his regiment of English, until he with most of his men
left their bodies on the spot. Lord Montgomery was taken with 21
officers and 150 men, and .'V248 of Monroe's army were reckoned on
the field which was covered with the dead, while numbers more were
next day killed in pursuit.* Owen O'Neile had but 70 killed and 200
wounded, a fact which if duly considered confirms this statement, and
clearly indicates the absence of anv reg-ular resistance.

To render this advantage the more decisive, O'Neile became pos-
sessed of the arms of the enemy, including- four o-ood cannons, with
the entire ot their tents, baggage, and stores, along with 1500 draught

* CV'e.

OWEN O'NEILE. 115

horses, and two months provisions. Monroe left his coat and wig" to
augment the spoil, and fled for his life to Lisnagarvey.* The con-
sternation was great and universal through the north, and not without
substantial grounds : the army of O'Neile was not quite so formidable
for its military character, or for the skill of its leader, as for the
dissolute character of the lawless desperadoes of which it was com-
posed. O'Neile too had after some time appeared to have divested
himself of much of the more civilized habits of European warfare, and
to manifest a temper not altogether unsuited to the composition of his
army. He soon felt the influence of disappointment, in finding that he
was compelled to act either subordinated' or in opposition to those
whom he had hoped to command with the power of a dictator. He
had come over to take the place and secure the rank and property of
the O'Niall; but the body of the confederacy looked for a peace fatal
to his hopes and looked upon him with distrust and fear ; his policy
was opposed by Preston, whose means and army were superior to his
own, and he was reduced to be the mercenary instrument of the arro-
gant and shallow llinuncini, at the beck of whose authority he was
now in the moment of success compelled to abandon the inviting pros-
pect which lay before his march. Immediately after the battle of
Benburb, he received a message from the nuncio to congratulate him
on the victory, and desire his presence in the vicinity of Kilkenny for
the purpose of aiding him in breaking off the treaty of peace.

Notwithstanding the strenuous efforts of the parties opposed to it,
the voice of the better and larger class of the confederates for a
moment prevailed. The peace was concluded, but the herald by whom
it was proclaimed, in many of the towns which he had to visit in this
discharge of his office, received violent ill treatment from the mob,
which was every where under the influence of the bellig-erent faction.
No sooner did the event reach the nuncio's ears, than he sent £4000
with a supply of gunpowder to Owen O'Neile, and called a meeting
at Waterford of the prelates whom he had under his more immediate
control, for the purpose of taking the most violent measures to inter-
rupt a proceeding opposed to the views of his mission. They dis-
charged this office with a decision and violence far beyond the cautious
and tempered policy of the court of Rome. Interdicts and excommu-
nications were decreed against all who should consent to the treaty.
The priests, secular and regular, who should presume to raise their
voices in behalf of peace were to be suspended. The council of Kil-
kenny was to be deprived of all authority, and their orders were to be
disobeyed under pain of excommunication.

But Rinuncini had, as we have said, overacted his part, and erred
in opposite directions from his instructions. He first received a repri-
mand for acting contrary to the order by which he had been command-
ed, that in case of peace being made he should not act in any way
further. In reply, Rinuncini sent over to Rome the copy of a speech
which he had made to the council of Kilkenny; this brought upon him
a reprimand still more severe from cardinal Pamphilio, in whose letter
of May 6, 1646, he is told, "for that See would never by any positive

* Cane,

116 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

act approve the civil allegiance which catholic subjects pay to an
heretical prince." From this maxim of theirs had arisen the great dif-
ficulties and disputes in England, about the oath of allegiance, since
the time of Henry VIII., and the displeasure of the Pope was the
greater, because the nuncio had left a copy of his speech with the
council, which, if it came to be published, would furnish heretics
with arguments against the papal authority over heretical princes,
when the Pope's own minister should exhort catholics to be faithful
to such a king. The nuncio was directed to " get back the original of
that speech, and all copies thereof which had been spread abroad, and
to take greater care for the future never to indulge such a way of
talking in publick conferences." This reprimand did not altogether
effect the purpose of restraining the meddling and incautious temper
of the nuncio, and he soon drew upon himself a further reproof, by en-
tering too hastily into the policy of the Irish ecclesiastics, which
although subservient to their Church, yet had necessarily in it some
alloy of expediency. These prelates could not so abstract themselves
from all the prejudices of public feeling, or from all ideas of justice
and national expediency, as to act with a single and exclusive reference
to the policy of the Roman See. They drew up a protest against the peace,
iu which they refused their consent " unless secure conditions were
made, according to the oath of association, for religion, the king and
the country."* For signing this, the nuncio received another instruc-
tive reproof. He was informed in a letter from cardinal Pamphilio,
" that it had been the constant and uninterrupted practice of the see
of Rome, never to allow her ministers to make or consent to publick
edicts of even catholick subjects, for the defence of the crown and
person of an heretical prince; and that this conduct of his furnished
pretence to her adversaries, to reflect upon her deviating from those
maxims and rules to which she had ever yet adhered. The pope knew
very well how difficult it was in such assemblies, to separate the rights
of religion from those which relate to the obedience professed by the
catholicks to the king, and would therefore be satisfied if he did not
show by any public act, that he either knew or consented to such
public protestations of that allegiance, which for political considera-
tions the catholicks were either forced or willing.to make.''

The nuncio made his apology, and rested his defence on the consid-
eration, that the oath " was sworn to by all the bishops without any
scruple; and it was so thoroughly rooted in the minds of all the Irish,
even the clergy, that if he had in the least opposed it, he would pre-
sently have been suspected of having other views besides those of a
mere nunciature; which without any such handle had been already
charged upon him by the disaffected."

Rinuncini did what he could to repair errors so offensive to his
court, prevailing over the minds of the prelates and clergy, who were
( the latter especially) inclined to more moderate views. He launched on
every side the threats and thunders of the papal see: and the minds of
the people were soon controlled or conciliated by the power of such
effective appeals. The effect on the upper classes was different; they

r Carte, from the nuncios narrative.

OWEN O'NEILE.

117

did not relinquish their anxious purpose to conclude the peace, but
were in some measure compelled to yield to the storm and pursue their
design with added caution. They drew up an appeal from the cen-
sures of the Italian and the bishops who supported him, but they were
deterred from its publication, and subsided into inaction; they were
indeed without the means for any effective proceeding- — their unpaid
soldiers were little disposed to obey them in opposition to their priests,
and the magistrates who depended upon these for authority and in some
measure for protection, were not more acquiescent. Unable to enforce
by authority they endeavoured to gain their opponents by treaty, and thus,
without obtaining the slightest concession they betrayed the dangerous
secret of their own weakness: the entire control of the army and the
conduct of the war were the least of the demands, which they received
in reply from their clerical adversaries. This indeed was daily be-
coming less a matter at their discretion; for not only Owen O'Neile re-
jected their authority, but Preston had also assumed an independent
tone, and made it generally doubtful with whom he meant to side.
Under these circumstances an effort was made by the marquess of
Ormonde to gain O'Neile, to whom he sent a relation Daniel O'Neile,
to offer him the confirmation of his present commands and the custodium
of such lands of " O'Neilan," as were held by persons opposed to the
king, upon the condition of his joining to bring about the peace. Owen
O'Neile rejected these offers, he could not do less, he had received large
sums from the nuncio, whose lavish liberality reached beyond his own
means, and had already compelled him to borrow largely from the
Spanish ambassador. From this liberal paymaster O'Neile had re-
ceived £9000.

The marquess of Ormonde himself visited Kilkenny, in the hope
to expedite by his presence the conclusion of the treaty. But
he had scarcely arrived when intelligence came from several quar-
ters of the approach of O'Neile, and it soon became sufficiently
apparent, that Owen's object was to intercept his return to the capital,
or to surprise him in Kilkenny. The troops of Ormonde were but a
few companies, those of O'Neile were at the lowest statement 12,000
men, and daily increasing. His designs were only to be inferred from
his line of march, as he was remarkable for the reserve with which he
guarded the secret of his designs; but the priests who accompanied
his march had communicated the fact that his course was for
Kilkenny; and it was further affirmed on the same authority, that "if
the lord-lieutenant would not admit of Glamorgan's peace,* they
would treat him in a manner too scandalous to be mentioned, and
prevent his return to Dublin ; that they should be 20,000 strong within
a fortnight, and would in their turn plunder all places that should not
join them against the peace."

On receiving these accounts the marquess hastily returned to
Dublin, and had little time to spare, for he had not gone far when he
received a visit from lord Castlehaven, who apprized him that both
Preston and O'Neile were in league to intercept him, and were then mak-

* This refers to the secret instructions from the king to the earl of Glamorgnn,
to concede the utmost demands of the papal party ; it is not as yet essi-ntial to the
general history ot events, and we shall fully state it herealter.

118 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

ing rapid marches for that purpose. On this he pressed his march to-
wards Leighlin bridge, that he mightplace the Barrow between his little
company and so formidable an enemy. O'Neile pressed on to Kilcullen,
and the march of the English under the command of Willoughby was for
some time harassed with anxious apprehension of a surprise, for which
they were but ill prepared. Among other disadvantages it was accidentally
discovered that the powder which had been distributed to the soldiers,
was useless and refused to explode. On inquiry it was found to be
a portion of the ammunition which the Irish had been allowed to sup-
ply as part payment of the sum agreed on for the king in the articles
of the cessation.

Owen O'Neile now turned towards Kilkenny, whither his employer
was anxious to return in power. In common with Rinuncini, Owen
had an earnest wish for vindictive retaliation, upon those by whom his
own authority had been set at nought and his service rejected; and the
occasion was gladly seized for such a triumph — more dear to each than
any advantage over their common adversaries. On the 17th Sept., 1 (346,
O'Neile took Roscrea-; and displayed by his conduct the reality or else
the deterioration of his character, hy the indiscriminate butchery of man,
woman, and child; lady Hamilton, sister to the marquess of Ormonde,
and a few gentlemen of prominent respectability, he reserved as pris-
oners. He took the castle of Kilkenny on the 16th, and on the 18th
Rinuncini entered the city in solemn procession. His first act was to
imprison the members of the supreme council, with the exception of
Darcy and Plunket. With them, such of the surrounding gentry as
had favoured the peace were at the same time ordered to be arrested
by Preston.

Through this favourable turn of circumstances, and supported by
the devoted services of his powerful retainer O'Neile, the nuncio now
i 3und himself apparently at the height of his ambition ; he appointed a
council of lour bishops, in whom with a few select laymen the govern-
ment was declared to be vested ; of these he assumed the presidency
both in spiritual and temporal concerns, and in the fulness of his satis-
faction, thus addressed his master, "this age has never seen so un-
expected and wonderful a change, and if I was writing not a relation,
but a history to your holiness, I should compare it to the most famous
success in Europe, and show how true it is that every part of the
world is capable of noble events, though all have not the talents neces-
sary to bring- them about. The clergy of Ireland so much despised
by the Ormondists, were in the twinkling of an eye masters of the king-
dom : soldiers, officers, and generals strove who should fight for the
clergy, drawn partly by a custom of following the strongest side; and
at last the supreme council being deprived of all authority, and con-
founded with amazement to see obedience denied them, all the power
and authority of the confederates devolved upon the clergy." *

In the exultation of his heart, the nuncio thought himself master of
the kingdom, and among other ambitious arrangements which occupied
his heated fancy, he wrote to consult the pope on the adjustment of cere-
monials between himself and the person whom he should place at the

• Carte.

OWEN O'NEILE. 119

head of the civil government. To obtain possession of Dublin, became
now the great object of his wishes. It was his desire to employ Owen
O'Neile in the sole command of this important enterprise, but his
counsellors knew better than he could know the danger of such a pre-
ference over Preston, who held by appointment the military command
of Leinster, and would not fail to show his resentment by deserting
their cause. The nuncio was made sensible of this risk and yielded:
but gratified his preference by giving 9000 dollars to O'Neile, while
he only gave £150 to Preston. Both these generals drew towards the
metropolis. On the way many incidents took place, which strongly
excited their sense of rivalry, and for a time it was a matter undecided
whether they should attack each other or join their arms in the com-
mon cause.

Many circumstances which we shall have to state in detail in our
memoir of the duke of Ormonde, were at the same time occurring to
prevent this enterprise against Dublin from being carried to any
issue. We shall here, therefore, relate so much as more immediately
appertains to the rebel camps. Owen O'Neile on his march to Dublin
took many towns and places of strength in the Queen's county: but
conducted himself in such a manner as to excite the resentment of the
Leinster gentry. In consequence, they rose in arms, and joined the
ranks of his rival Preston, who was generally known to have a strong
leaning to the king and the duke of Ormonde, and a decided hatred
to Owen O'Neile, who both hated and despised him in return. It
then was for some days discussed, between Preston and his friends,
whether he might -not have a good chance of defeating his rival in the
field. He even entered on a treaty with lord Digby, and offered, if
he "might have reasonable security for his religion,"* that lie
would obey the marquess of Ormonde, and join his forces against
O'Neile.

While this treaty was under discussion, the two armies were ad-
vancing toward Dublin. On the 9th November Preston reached
Lucan, and on the 11th Owen O'Neile arrived with the nuncio. The
two generals thus brought together, present a combination not unsuited
for the purposes of romance : their separate views, their opposite
characters, their mutual hate, and their common cause and position,
offer the varied threads of moral and incidental interest, which admit
of being pursued and interwoven into a many-coloured web of inci-
dent and passion. The nuncio Rinuncini, with all the strong lines
of national temperament — the part he had to act — the character in
which he stood : ambitious, zealous, crafty, shallow, over-reaching and
deceived, confident in his real ignorance of those he had to deal with,
and deceived by every surrounding indication amongst a people he
could not understand, yet, not without reason, looking with contempt
on their ignorance and barbarism — affords a figure not unsuited for the
foreground, and for striking contrast and deep shadow of plot, scene,
or group. The combinations of moral fiction are but faithful to
reality: the difference is little more than that between the unrecorded
incidents which pass away only to be remembered by the actors, and

* Curte

120 TRANSITION".— POLITICAL.

those which are brought before the eve of the world: and romance
itself when true to nature, is no more than the result of incidents
which are always occurring. The two Irish leaders who then occu-
pied the town of Lucan, doubtful whether they were to attack each
other in the mutual and bloody strife for pre-eminence, or march
together in a common cause, about which neither of them cared, were
watched by the Italian with an anxious and apprehensive eye. Seeing
the mutual temper which they took little pains to disguise, he laboured
to reconcile them, and to infuse a common spirit for the service which
he only looked upon as the prime object of regard. " O'Neile," says
Carte, " was a man of few words, phlegmatic in his proceedings, an
admirable concealer of his own sentiments, and very jealous of the
designs of others. Preston was very choleric, and so unguarded in
his passion, that he openly declared all his resentments, and broke out
even in councils of war. into rash expressions of which he had fre-
quently cause to repent."* To reconcile these jarring opposites, was
too much for the craft of Rinuncini, and the danger from their dissen
sion seemed so great, that he saw no better resource against the con-
sequence than to imprison Preston. But this was opposed by the
secret council which he brought together to advise with on the ques-
tion: they thought that by such an act, the province of Leinster would
he offended, and that the army of Preston also would be likely to
become outrageous in their resentment. While this matter was under
discussion, O'Neile was himself in a state of no small apprehension,
from the suspected designs of Preston, whose heat of temper made it
more to be feared, that he might adopt some decided step. Preston
was no less distrustful of the dark and brooding enmity of O'Neile ;
and thus while Kinuiicini was labouring to reconcile them, they took
more pains to guard against each others' designs, than to adopt means
of offence or defence against the enemy. In this interval was anxiously
diseussed4he lord-lieutenant's proposals for a peace, made through the
earl of Clanricarde, who came forward at the desire of Preston. He
offered a repeal of all penalties against the members of the church of
Rome; that no alteration should be made in the possession of churches,
until the king's pleasure should be made known in a general settle-
ment ; that these articles should be confirmed by the queen and prince
and guaranteed by the king of France. These terms fell far short of
the aims of Rinuncini, and were equally unsatisfactory, though for
different reasons to Owen O'Neile. The nuncio desired nothing
short of the complete subjection, temporal and spiritual, of the island
to his master; Owen desired neither more nor less than the acquisition
of the estates of the O'Neiles of Tyrone.

This anxious and manifold game of diplomacy, discussion, and
undermining, continued from the 11th to the 16th. On this day they
.were met in council, and the debate ran high, when a messenger came
to the door and told them, that the English forces were landed and
received into Dublin.f The thread of argument was cut short, and
the cobweb of intrigue broken, by a sentence — fear, and hate, and
design, and ambition, stood paralyzed bv the unexpected intelligence.

* C.;ilc'» Ormonde, page ;>69. f Carte's Ormonde.

OWEN O'NEILE. 121

An instant of silence followed, in which it is probable all looked at
each other, and each considered what was best for himself. Owen
O'Neile started on his feet and left the room — his example was fol-
lowed by Preston, and in the course of one minute from the messenger's
appearance, the room was empty.

Owren O'Neile called together his troops by a cannon shot, and put
them in motion, they crossed the Liffey at Leixlip, on a bridge hastily
put together from the timber of houses, and marched through Meath
into the Queen's county. The nuncio returned to Kilkenny. Pres-
ton signed a peace for himself; but acted so inconsistently, that it was
hard to say to which side he belonged. O'Neile had now many dis-
advantages to encounter. Besides the danger to be apprehended from
the junction of his enemy Preston, with the king's party, he had
damped considerably the zeal of many of his own confederates, by the
arrogance of his bearing, and by the exorbitant pretensions which had
latterly begun to display themselves. His claims to the dignity and
estates of the O'Neiles were offensive to Sir Phelim, as well as to Alex-
ander Macdonell, whose regiments were ready to desert.* The nuncio
too was himself beginning to entertain fears of the vast and inordinate
pretensions of his favourite general ; while generally the character of
the native Ulster men, by whom he was supported, was such as to convey
suspicion and fear into the breast of every one of English descent. It
began to be fully comprehended, that while religious creeds were made
the pretext and the blind, the main object of the lower classes engaged
io rebellion, as well as of their leaders, was a war of the Irish against the
English, and that plunder was its real and main ohject. Above all
the growing sense of his character and known designs had made
O'Neile an object of terror to the gentry of every party: he was in pos-
session of several counties of Leinster, where he was thoroughly feared
and disliked; and the nuncio was with difficulty enabled to keep Kil-
kenny from his grasp.

The assembly convened in Kilkenny, to treat upon the conditions
of peace, met in the beginning of 1(547- We shall not need to enter
here upon the questions which they entertained, or the terms which
they generally agreed upon. The result was the rejection of the
peace: and the marquess finding all his efforts frustrated, came at
length to the decision, to give up the further management of the king-
dom into the hands of the English parliament, as the last hope for the
safety of the protestants and of the upper classes. A treaty with par-
liament was the consequence, during which the national assembly were
awed into a more conceding temper, both by their apprehension of the
consequences of such a result, and also by a formidable demonstration of
force, under their enemy lord Inchiquin, in Munster. Thus influenced
they renewed their treaty with Ormonde, whom they offered to join
against the parliament— but added, that they should insist upon the
terms already proposed in the late assembly. To guard against the
danger of any movement of lord Inchiquin, they were compelled to have
recourse to Preston, as Owen O'Neile had now thrown off all autho-
rity, and come to the resolution of adopting no cause but his own.

* Carte.

1 22 TRANSITION .—POLITICAL.

The truth is probably, that he had found the resources of the nuncio
beginning to run dry: and though he still found an object in calling
bis army the " Pope's army," he kept an exclusive eye to the one point,
of strengthening himself, and maintaining his forces by the most
shameless plunder.

On the 28th July, 1647, the marquess of Ormonde having conclud-
ed his treaty with the parliament, left the kingdom. The supreme
council had transferred their sittings to Clonmel, the forces under their
authority were placed under the command of the earl of Antrim, and
were in a state of disunion not to be suppressed by the terrors of lord
Inchiquin, who was in the mean time wasting the country. An in-
trigue of the earl of Antrim, to set aside lord Muskerry from his share
in the command, ended in the triumph of the lattei', and lord Antrim
was (to the nuncio's great vexation,) himself deprived of the command,
which was given to his rival. This army and the gentry of Munster
became at the same time so much alarmed by the conduct of Owen
O'Neile, that they presented a remonstrance to the council, in which
they expressed themselves strongly, affording clear ideas, at least, of
the nature of the fears which he excited ; for this reason we here give
the passage extracted from this remonstrance by Carte. They re-
presented " that he aimed at the absolute command of all Ireland ;
that he had his partisans in all the provinces ; that he had levied a
vast army above the kingdom's force, to execute his ambitious views;
that he had obeyed no orders, either of the assembly or council, but
what he pleased; that he had slighted their commands, particularly in
the affair of Athlone, and in several other instances ; that Terence
O'Bryen was, under pretence of his authority, actually raising forces
in breach of the express orders of the council, and others were doing
the like in other places; that since the tumult at Clonmel, messengers
had been sent by those who made it, to invite him and his army to
their assistance ; that his forces acted as enemies, interrupting hus-
bandry, plundering all before them, and leaving nothing behind them
but desolation and misery ; that Kilkenny and the neighbouring
counties had been ruined by the incursions of his forces, who gave out
terrible threats of extirpating the English Irish; and their clergy
(whose army they boasted themselves to be,) talked after the same
manner; that having complained to the nuncio of the friars, who to
pave the way for O'Neile and his partisans to be masters of the king
dom, had sowed discontent and sedition in the army, and thrown un-
just and groundless suspicions and scandals upon the designs and
actions of well-affected persons, no punishment had yet been inflicted,
nor any mark of ignominy put upon them to deter others from the
like licentiousness."* On this occasion, the gentry of Munster de-
clared that while they adhered firmly to their church, yet that they
would prefer joining Ormonde, Clanricarde, or the Grand Turk,"f to
the risk of being plundered and oppressed by O'Neile and his army.
Under this apprehension, they entreated that their province should be
put into a state of defence against the intrusion of that army, and that
O'Neile should be strictly enjoined not to enter on its confines, and

* Cirte, v,.l. II. p. 3. f Ibid.

OWEN O'NEILE. 123

declared a rebel if he should disobey the injunction. They were with
some difficulty appeased by the council.

In the province of Leinster, the same terror of O'Neile existed.
His character which had developed itself under the influence of grow-
ing ambition, and in the use of evil means for evil ends, was beginning
to be felt ; his virtues were lost to public apprehension, in the cloud of
atrocity which surrounded his motions; his objects were misunderstood
and his infirmities aggravated. He held Leinster with 12,000 foot
and 1200 cavalry, a numerous band of robbers and murderers of every
class, and there was a strong apprehension that he would be joined by
the septs in Wexford and Wicklow. Against this fear, the great
security to which all eyes in the province of Leinster had turned was (he
wisdom, influence, and active efficiency of Ormonde, and his departure
occasioned the most general and anxious alarm in every quarter.

While thus formidably encountered by the suspicions and com-
plaints of his nominal confederates, Owen, whom they had a little
before nominated to the command of Connaught, followed, at leisure
.and in entire indifference, his own objects. He had the satisfaction in
August to learn of a decisive defeat sustained by his enemy and rival
Preston, from the parliamentary commander, colonel Jones, and
laughed in his exultation, at the folly of Preston in exposing himself
to such a risk. To add to his satisfaction, he was further strength-
ened by 2000 men from his rival's army, sent him by the direction
of the council with their order, (or we should presume entreaty,)
that he would march from Connaught to their protection.

The council, though then chiefly filled with adherents of Rinuncini,
was strongly influenced by the force of circumstances to act in op-
position to his desires; by this, the ties between him and O'Neile
were for a moment restored, though Owen was an object of fear and
dislike to most of the confederates. The incident here chiefly adverted
to, is mentioned by Carte: a book entitled, " Dispidatio Apologetica,
de jure regui Hibernicc pro Catholicis Hibernis Adversus Hcereticos
Anglos" had been published in Portugal, by Cornelius Mahony, an
Irish Jesuit, and widely circulated through Ireland. Its design and the
effect it was adapted to produce, may be estimated from an extract in
which the subject of the argument is stated, " That the kings of Eng-
land never had any right to Ireland; that supposing they once had, they
had forfeited it by turning heretics, and not observing the condition of
pope Adrian's grant; that the old Irish natives might by force of arms
recover the lands and goods taken from their ancestors upon the con-
quest by usurpers of English or other foreign extraction; that they
should kill not only all the protestants, but all the Roman catholics
in Ireland that stood for the crown of England, choose an Irish native
for their kinsf, and throw off at once the voke both of heretics and
foreigners."* This book was supported by the nuncio, and very
generally understood to turn the eyes of the lower classes upon Owen
O'Neile, as the most likely object of election to the crown. But it was
so directly opposed to the principles recognised in the oath of the con-
federates, as well as to the feelings and interests of all but the merest

* From Carte, II. p. 17.

124 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

rabble, (yet not mucb above the lowest point of barbarism,) that the
conduct of the confederates could not be less than decisive, and they
condemned the book to be burned by the hangman in Kilkenny. This,
with many such incidents, gave a strong turn to the sense of this
party, and with the impression already made by the general conduct
of O'Neile, together with the declarations of his friends and favourers,
had much effect in rendering them the more accessible to proposals
of peace.

Against this favourable disposition, the nuncio exerted all his in-
fluence and authority, and he was certainly not wanting to himself in tbe
employment of such means as remained in his possession. His pecuni-
ary resources had been entirely drained, but his native audacity and craft
were not exhausted, and he endeavoured to obtain a preponderance in
council by the creation of ten new bishops; the council objected that
they had not been consecrated, and the nuncio proposed to consecrate
them, but fearful that this might not be approved of in Rome, he con-
tented himself with sending them to take their seats as spiritual peers,
and thus obtained a formidable accession to his party.

The discussion of the peace was continued, and while the nuncio
and the friends of O'Neile were violent in their opposition, the strong
majority was in its favour. An amusing effort was made to turn the
odds upon this question, by claiming for nine Ulster delegates the
partisans of O'Neile, sixty-three votes, on the ground that this was
the number necessary to represent Ulster, while on account of the
war, nine only could be found to attend; — a curious oversight and not
unlike that amusing species of Irish humour which has by a cornmou
error been stigmatized by the name of blunder. The scheme was un-
successful, and the only obstacle recognised by the assembly was to be
found in the entire want of any authorized party to treat with. The
council agreed that peace alone could save the country from ruin, and
it was at last decided to send agents to France, Spain, and Rome.
Into the particulars of this mission, it is not necessary to enter : all
the parties had their private objects, and were prepared with their
ostensible commissions; their journey was to little purpose. But the
nuncio still continued the most strenuous and unremitting efforts to
suppress or neutralize every proceeding which had for its object any
treaty of peace unless on the terms proposed by himself, and in his
eagerness to attain the object of his ultimate ambition, the cardinal's
hat, he continually pressed beyond the line of discretion strictly
marked out in his instructions, so that his chance of success was by no
means improving in either respect. Without gaining the approbation
of the pope, he was daily losing the respect of his own party; the
court of Home desirous to avoid embroiling itself with the other
courts of Europe, disapproved of the indiscreet exposition of its policy
thus afforded on so public a stage, and would have recalled their nuncio
long before, but for the violent misrepresentations which led them to
overrate the prospects of ultimate success. The Irish nobles, gentry,
priests and prelates, were, with the exceptions always to be found in
large constituent bodies, all sensible of the folly, ignorance and danger
of his counsels, and of the entire futility of his hopes. The council
was beginning to meet his remonstrances with indifference, and when
he failed in his efforts to induce that body to declare against the Ces-

OWEN O'NEILE. 125

sation which he was so anxious to break, as the last hope of prevent-
ing the conclusion of peace, he stole out of the town to join O'Neile
at Maryborough.

The council sent messengers to invite him back, and with an offer
which it is difficult to regard as sincere, they proposed to break off
the treaty and invest Dublin, if he would send them £20,000; while
they must have been aware that he was bankrupt in resources long
since, and had already gone to the extent of his credit by large and
frequent loans. But it is also evident that his conjunction with Owen
O'Neile was the most mischievous proceeding that at the moment
could well be conceived, and must have excited their utmost appre-
hension. The nuncio, with the pertinacity of his character replied,
" that the generals of the Leinster and Minister armies should be
displaced ; that the Ulster army should be regularly paid, and
assigned good quarters; that the clergy and their adherents in Munster
should have satisfaction given them as to the civil government; that
all governors and military officers should take an oath, neither to
move, do, or agree to any thing that might be deemed to their preju-
dice, without leave from the clergy; and that the council should swear
they would not suffer any peace to be made, but such an one as agreed
with the instructions given to the agents sent to Rome." On receiving
this message, the council saw the inutility of temporizing further, and
signed a confirmation of the Cessation to be observed until the con-
elusion of the treaty of peace.

The nuncio had recourse to his usual methods, and when his decla-
ration against their proceedings were taken down, and the prelates
themselves resisted his menaces and entreaties, he brought together the
titulars of Ross, Cork, and Down, who still adhered to him, and
launched an excommunication against all persons, and an interdict
against the towns which should receive the Cessation. The council
appealed from his censures, and were joined by two archbishops,
twelve bishops, and all the secular clergy in their dioceses. They
were even supported by the whole orders of Jesuits and Carmelites,
and considerable numbers of other orders in the province. On the
former occasion already related, he had been as zealously joined by
the clergy of his persuasion, as he was now firmly and unanimously
resisted; these persons, zealous for the interests of their order but
clear-sighted and humane, had begun to see the folly of their blind
and hot-headed leader, the hopelessness of the cause, and the mischief
of its further present prosecution. These defections might have made
a wiser and cooler headed man sensible that he had gone too far; but
the nuncio was little accessible to the warning of ch-cumstances, and
insensible to all considerations but those of ambition, pride, and re-
sentment which engrossed his heart. The difficulties of his position
were daily increasing — his coffer was empty, the Spanish agent was
suing him for 1 00,000 crowns taken by his ship from a Spanish vessel
in the Bay of Biscay, under the pretext of its being English property,
instead of which it was sent by the Spanish court for the payment of
the army in Flanders. The leaders also of troops in the interest of
the confederates had provided against excommunication, by the pre-
caution of collecting those who were indifferent about it.

Under these circumstances, O'Neile retired into Connaught, and

thence to Ulster, to collect his men, and recruit their numbers. He
had been abandoned by Sir Phelim, by lords Iveagh, and Alexander
Macdonell, and now turned out of his way to attack them in Birr
which they garrisoned. But general Preston marched against him,
on which he raised the siege and retired. The nuncio meanwhile,
endeavoured to effect in Connaught those purposes which had so
entirely failed in the provinces of Munster and Leinster. Here too
he was doomed to be signally disappointed; for, though joined every-
where by the populace, who were (as they ever are) actuated by the
love of change and of tumult, the clerg-y manifested no disposition to
enter into his views. He summoned them to a meeting in Galway,
but a prohibition from the council was enough to prevent a compli-
ance; he was openly opposed by the titular bishop of Tuam: and the
marquess of Clanricarde, after remonstrating with him on the vanity and
wickedness of the headlong- course he pursued, regularly besieged him
in Galway, where he had as usual made a strong but low party among
those on whom his misrepresentations could impose; but thus besieged,
the Galway citizens soon came to a just understanding of this vain
man, and consented to renounce him and proclaim the Cessation. The
nuncio thus foiled by Clanricarde, met also with a fresh proof of the
contempt into which he was fallen among the confederacy; his Galway
declaration, to which he had in vain solicited the consent of the clergy,
was condemned as " wicked, malicious, and traitorous, repugnant to
all laws, human and divine, and tending to the utter subversion of
government both in church and state." At the same time, they publicly
proclaimed Owen O'Neile a traitor, and set a price on his head.

Notwithstanding these unfavourable changes, Owen O'Neile was
still as strong as ever, nor could the nuncio be altogether deprived of
hope, while supported by so powerful an adherent. Making a truce
with Jones and the Scots, for the purpose of saving the families of his
soldiers in the north and west, he was thus enabled to march into
Leinster; there he hoped to regain the ascendance which had been
wrested from his grasp, and to subdue or crush the council of Kil-
kenny. It was his design to surprise Kilkenny, and a conspiracy was
formed in that city, to betray it on his appearance, but the letters
between the parties were intercepted. Thus disappointed, Owen
satisfied his resentment by wasting- the lands of lord Mountgarret,
and being invited into Thomond, he took the castle of Nenagh, and
surprised Banagher. From this he besieged Athy, but the appear-
ance of Preston forced him to retire. The places he had taken were
recovered by the earl of Incliiquin, and having encamped at a pass in
Ballaghnon, (" since called Owen Roe's pass"),* to cut off the provi-
sions from Inchiquin's camp; the two armies lay for a fortnight in
sight of each other, and Owen narrowly escaped a defeat, on which
he stole away in the night and left an empty camp to his enemies.

We have in this memoir hitherto endeavoured to follow the
course of the events mainly affecting the fortuues of Owen O'Neile,
and of the nuncio Rinuncini, with whom he was throughout connected,
considering that thus we should take the most appropriate occasion to

* Carte.

OWEN O'NEILE. 127

oiler a more distinct account of a person so conspicuous tor the part
he acted in this eventful juncture. The union between these two
remarkable persons was now approaching' its close. The marquess of
Ormonde at last returned once more to Ireland, to urge forward the
treaty for peace, and it was concluded on January l?th, IG4'J. The
death of the king was followed by the proclamation of his son, through
all the towns in Ireland ; and Rinuncini, who had exhausted all
his resources and all his arts, and still lingered hoping against hope,
and though defeated still returning to the vain trial — at last began in
these decisive events to perceive the inutility of a further struggle
against the strong current, and resolved to depart until he should he
enabled to enter the field with fresh resources and increased authority.
Leaving his last instructions to Owen O'Neile to be firm and faithful,
and to hold out for the Pope till his return, he embarked in his own
ship in Galway, and on the 2d March landed in Normandy.

The history of O'Neile may now be briefly pursued to its termina-
tion. Onlv desirous to preserve the armed posture on which all his
prospects were dependent, and ready to join with all parties whose
views tended to war, and might sustain his military importance, he
formed an alliance with Jones the general of the independents ; and by
this step, contrived to preserve his affairs for some time, and to main-
tain a large body of men at the expense of the parliamentary general.
In this position he was courted by both parties, and in turn listened
and consented to each. Owen continued for some time to co-operate
with the parliamentary generals; but after having performed consid-
erable services in the north, he soon discovered that he was held in
contempt by his new allies, who purchased his assistance from neces-
sity alone. In consideration of 2000 cows, he raised the siege of
Londonderry, where Coote, who held that city for the parliament, was
besieged.* The alliance between these leaders and their Irish mer-
cenary was explicitly censured by the parliament, which refused to
confirm the articles of their treaty with him. He was compelled to
retire, and presently received proposals from the marquess of Ormonde,
to declare for the king ; he consented, and soon after came to an
agreement to act with that nobleman against his late ungrateful
patrons.

So early as February 20th, 1G49, letters of credence had been
signed by him, by the bishop of Clogher, and by general Farrel, em-
powering F. Nugent, a capuchin, to assure the king of his submis-
sion upon the condition of their being included in the act of oblivion,
of enjoying liberty of conscience, and of O'Neile's commanding an
army under his majesty's authority, provided for in the same manner
as the rest of his maje3ty's forces, and being advanced to the dignity
of an earl.f So far he was at length seemingly in view of the main
object of all his labours. In the mean time, his engagement with the
parliamentary leaders had taken place; and it was not till the affront,
here mentioned, exposed the vanity of all expectations from the inde-
pendents, that he returned to a party which his natural sagacity must
have perceived to be the weaker. On the 12th October, he signed

* iiorl.i^. ] Carle.

128 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

articles with Ormonde, by which he engaged to bring an army ;o ins
assistance

I J is death saved him from a sad and rapid reverse, and in all pro-
bability from a disgraceful end. From the parliamentary leaders who
were so soon to change the current of events, he could not even expect
the poor compromise of being allowed to live. His character seems
to have been vastly overrated by his countrymen : nor have we been
enabled to find ground for uncpialified praise even on this least ques-
tionable pretension, that of military talent. He was assuredly dis-
creet and sagacious; and if he was not free from the excitement of the
vindictive passions, they did not at least carry him so far as in any
instance to lose sight of interest or safety. Of any of the higher
principles of action, which govern and dignify the deeds of great men,
he was utterly devoid ; a consistent and steady adoption of everv
friendship and every party which manifested the power and will to
promote his own personal ends, was the virtue of his life — a virtue,
only to be so named in a very enlarged acceptation of the term, as it
implies nothing either honourable or good. Of the sincerity of his
religious professions we cannot form any estimate, and must presume
them sincere, though his religion had no power to elevate his conduct,
lie was not less disinterested or less beneficent in the ends for which
he acted, or the means by which he sought them, than his spiritual
patron and confederate, the Abbe Rinuncini. If upon his first ap-
pearance upon the scene of Irish affairs, his character appears to some
advantage, this advantage is due to contrast with those who were less
unprincipled, but more rude, barbarous, and violent than himself.
The habits of a gentleman, and the manners contracted in foreign
camps and courts, are, unhappily, not inconsistent with selfishness,
cruelty, and vice ; but they materially smooth the outward front and
gestures of those deep and indelible faults of human character. The
knowledge of good and evil, the fear of opinion, and the necessity of
bsing first inured to any decided course of evil, all tend to repress super-
fluous outrage and retard the career of crime. Knowledge, fortu-
nately indeed, though its power is little to " mend the heart," has yet a
strong power to repress those evil impulses of which it can unfold the
consequences and point out the disgrace; yet such considerations
apply only with miich qualification to the actors of the time actually
under review; and when by chance our pen betrays us into such dis-
tinctions, we soon must l'ecollect that we are wandering from our
purpose.

O'Neile did not live to fulfil his part of the articles last mentioned.
In the beginning of December, he died at Cloghater castle, in the
county of Cavan.

Having brought our readers to tlie development of the second act of
the great rebellion, and exhibited the conflicting motives and the singu-
lar divisions and combinations of the various parties and actors en-
gaged therein, we make a brief pause to introduce another of those
families which adorn the biographies of Ireland, placing before them
tiie third and closing act. in which one of its members bore a prominent
part. We refer to those members of the Boyle family, better known
in history as lords Broghill, earls of Orrery and earls of Cork.

THE BOYLES.

RICHARD BOYLE, FIRST EARL OF CORK.

BORN A. D. 1566 DIED A. D. 1643.

Among the many illustrious persons, who by their valour or pru-
dence laid the foundations of the most noble families of this country,
none can be named more deserving' of the record of history than the
first earl of Cork. By his prudence and well directed sagacity, he
showed the first example of that method of improvement which was
afterwards carried into more extended operation in the plantation of
Ulster. Nor is posterity less indebted to his name, for the many
illustrious warriors, statesmen, and philosophers, whose names are
among" the noblest ornaments of their generation.

The family of Boyle is of ancient and almost immemorial antiquity.
Budgel, who has written their history, mentions that the ancestor
from whom they are descended, was "Sir Philip Boyle, a knight of
Arragon, who signalized himself at a tournament," in England, in the
reign of Henry VI. But the heralds trace the family in the county
of Hereford, so far back as Henry III., and as they confirm their deduc-
tions by the full details of personal history, we think it fair to acquiesce
in their account.

In the reign of Henry VI., Ludovic Boyle, of Bidney, in Hereford-
shire, left two sons, John and Roger. The second of these left four
sons, of whom one, Michael, was afterwards bishop of Waterford, and
another, Roger, was father to the illustrious person whose life we are
here to relate. In the discharge of this task, our labour is lightened
by the existence of a memoir of himself, which the earl has left. This
document has, of course, found a place in every notice of the Boyle
family; but we do not for this reason think it can properly be omitted.
It follows at full length : — " My father, Mr Roger Boyle, was born
in Herefordshire; my mother Joan Naylor, daughter of Robert
Naylor, of Canterbury, in the county of Kent, Esq., was born there,
15th of October, 1529; and my father and mother were married in
Canterbury, 16th of October, 1564; my father died at Preston, near
Feversham in Kent, 24th March, 1576; my mother never married
again, but lived ten years a widow, and then departed this life at
Feversham, aforesaid 20th March, 1586; and they are both buried
in one grave, in the upper end of the chancel of the parish church of
Preston. In memory of which, my deceased and worthy parents, I
their second son, have, in anno 1629, erected a fair alabaster tomb
over the place where they were buried, with an iron grate before it,
for the better preservation thereof.

" I was born in the city of Canterbury, (as I find it written by my
father's own hand) 3d October, 1566. After the decease of my father
and mother, I being the second son of a younger brother, having
been a scholar in Bennet's College, Cambridge, and a student in the
Middle Temple; finding my means unable to support me to study the

n. i Ir.

130 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

laws in the Inns of Court, put myself into the service of Sir Richard
Manwood, knight, lord chief baron of her majesty's court of exchequer,
where I served as one of his clerks; and perceiving' that my employ-
ment would not raise a fortune, I resolved to travel into foreign king--
doms, and to gain learning, knowledge, and experience, abroad in the
world. And it pleased the Almighty, by his Divine Providence to take
me I may say, just as it were by the hand, and lead me into Ireland,
where I happily arrived at Dublin on Midsummer eve, the 23d of
June, 1588.

" I was married at Limerick to Mrs Joan Apsley, one of the two
daughters, and co-heirs of William Apsley of Limerick, Esq., (one of
the council to the first president of the province of Munster,) 6th Nov.,
1595, who brought me £500 lands the year, which I still enjoy, it
being the beginning and foundation of my fortune; and she died at
Moyallow, 14th Dec, 1599, in travail of her first child, which was
born a dead son, and both of them were buried in Buttevant church.

" When I arrived at Dublin, all my wealth was then £27 3s. in
money and two tokens, which my mother had formerly given me, viz.
a diamond ring, which I have ever since, and still do wear; and a
bracelet of gold, worth about £10 ; a taffety doublet, cut with and
upon taffety ; a pair of black velvet breeches, laced ; a new milan
fustian suit laced and cut upon taffety; two cloaks; competent linen
and necessaries; with my rapier and dagger. And 23d of June, 1632,
I have served my God, queen Elizabeth, king James, and king Charles,
full forty-four years in Ireland, and so long after as it shall please
God to enable me.

• When God had blessed me with a reasonable fortune and estate,
Sir Henry Wallop, treasurer at war; Sir Robert Gardiner, chief jus-
tice of the king's bench; Sir Robert Dillon, chief justice of the com-
mon pleas; Sir Richard Bingham, chief commissioner of Connaught;
being displeased for some purchases which I had made in the province,
they all joined together, and by their letters complained against me to
queen Elizabeth, expressing, ' That I came over a young man, without
any estate or fortune ; and that I had made so many purchases, as it
was not possible to do it without some foreign prince's purse to sup-
ply me with money; that I had acquired divers castles and abbies on
the sea side, fit to receive and entertain Spaniards ; that I kept in my
abbies fraternities, and convents of friars in their habits, who said
mass continually; and that I was suspected in my religion, with divers
other malicious suggestions.' Whereof having some secret notice, I
resolved to go into Munster, and so into England to justify myself;
but before I could take shipping, the general rebellion in Munster
broke forth. All my lands were wasted, as I could not say that I had
one penny of certain revenue left me to the unspeakable danger and
hazard of my life ; yet God so preserved me, as I recovered Dingle,
and got shipping there, which transported me to Bristol, from whence
I travelled to London, and betook myself to my former chamber in the
middle temple, intending to renew my studies in the laws till the rebel-
lion was passed over.

fc Then Robert, earl of Essex, was designed for the government of this
kingdom, unto whose service I was recommended by Mr Anthony

THE BOY LES— RICHARD, FIRST EARL OF CORK. 131

Bacon; whereupon his lordship very nobly received me, and used me
with favour and grace, in employing- me in suing- out his patent and
commission for the government of Ireland ; whereof Sir Henry Wallop
having notice utterly to suppress me, renewed his former complaint
to the queen's majesty against me; whereupon by her majesty's special
directions, I was suddenly attacked and conveyed close prisoner to the
gate-house ; all my papers seized and searched ; and, although nothing
rould appear to my prejudice, yet my close constraint was continued
till the earl of Essex was gone to Ireland, and two months afterwards;
at which time, with much suit, I obtained of her sacred majesty the
favour to be present at my answers ; where I so fully answered, and
cleared all their objections, and delivered such full and evident justifi-
cations of my own acquittal, as it pleased the queen to use these words:
' By God's death, all these are but inventions against this young man,
and all his sufferings are for being able to do us service, and these
complaints urged to forestall him therein: but we find him a man
fit to be employed by ourselves, and we will employ him in our service ;
and Wallop and his adherents shall know that it shall not be in the
power of any of them to wrong him, neither shall Wallop be our trea-
surer any longer.' And, arising from council, gave order not only
for my present enlargement, but also discharging all my charges and
fees during my restraint, gave me her royal hand to kiss, which I did
heartily; humbly thanking God for that great deliverance.

" Being commanded by her majesty to attend at court, it was not
many days before her highness was pleased to bestow upon me the
office of clerk of the council of Munster,* and to commend me over to
Sir George Carew (after earl of Totness), and then lord-president of
Munster; whereupon I bought of Sir Walter Raleigh his ship, called
' the Pilgrim,' into which I took a freight of ammunition and victuals,
and came in her myself by long sea, and arrived at Carrigfoile in
Kerry, where the lord-president and the army were then at the siege
of that castle; which, when we had taken, I was there sworn clerk of
the council of Munster; and presently after made a justice of peace
and quorum throughout all that province. And this was the second
rise that God gave to my fortunes.

" Then as clerk of the council, I attended the lord-president in all his
employments ; waited on him (who assisted lord-deputy Mountjoy) at
the whole sieg-e of Kingsale, and was employed by his lordship to her
majesty with the news of the happy victory (obtained over the Irish
under the earl of Tyrone and the Spaniards, 24th of December, 1601);
in which employment I made a speedy expedition to the court; for I
left my lord-president at Shandon castle, near Cork, on Monday morn-
ing about two of the clock, and the next day delivered my packet, and
supped with Sir Robert Cecil, being then principal secretary, at his
house in the Strand; who, after supper, held me in discourse till two
of the clock in the morning ; and by seven that morning called upon
me to attend him to the court, where he presented me to her majesty

* Lodovic Briskett surrendered that office 31st March, 1600, to the intent the
queen might give it to Mr Boyle, together with the custody of the signet for the
province whereof he had a giant by patent, dated 8th of May following.

132 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

in her bedchamber; who remembered me, calling- me by my name, and
giving me her hand to kiss, telling me, that she was glad that I was
the happy man to bring the first news of the glorious victory. And
after her majesty had interrogated with me upon sundry questions very
punctually, and that therein 1 had given her full satisfaction in every
particular, she gave me again her hand to kiss, and commanded my
dispatch for Ireland, and so dismissed me with grace and favour.

" At my return into Ireland, I found my lord- president ready to march
to the siege of Beerhaven castle, then fortified and possessed by the
Spaniards and some Irish rebels, which after battering we had made
assaultable, entered, and put all to the sword. His lordship then fell
to reducing these western parts of the province to subjection and
obedience to her majesty's laws; and, having placed garrisons and
wards in all places of importance, made his return to Cork; and in
the way homewards acquainted me with his resolution to employ me
presently into England, to obtain license from her majesty for his re-
pair to her royal presence ; at which time he propounded unto me the
purchase of all Sir Walter Raleigh's lands in Munster, which, by his
assistance, and the mediation of Sir Robert Cecil, was perfected, and
this was a third addition and rise to my estate.

" Then I returned into Ireland with my lord-president's licence to
repair to court; and by his recommendation was married, 25th July,
1603, to my second wife, Miss Catherine Fenton, the only daughter of
Sir Jeffray Fenton, principal secretary of state, and privy counsellor,
in Ireland, on which day I was knighted by Sir George Carew, lord-
deputy of Ireland, at St Mary's abbey, near Dublin."

This memoir is said to have been written in the year 1632, when
the noble writer had reached his 67th year; he was at the time lord
Boyle, baron Youghall, viscount Dungarvon, earl of Cork, and lord
high treasurer of Ireland.

In 1603 he was, as this memoir states, married to his second wife,
Miss Catherine Fenton. Of this marriage the following1 curious origin
is mentioned by some writers, on the authority of the countess of
Warwick, in whose life it has been inserted. While yet a widower,
Sir Richard Boyle, had, according to this story, occasion to pay a visit
of business to Sir Geoffry Fenton, master of the rolls. Sir Geoffrv was
engaged, and Boyle was detained for a long time; during which he
amused himself by playing with Sir Geoffry's little daughter, then about
two years old. When Sir Geoffry came, he apologized for having
detained Mr Boyle so long; but was answered by Mr Boyle, that he
had been courting his little daughter, with the design to make her his
wife. Fenton took up the jest, and the conversation ended in a serious
engagement, that the match should be concluded when the young lady
should attain a marriageable age.* And, as the tale runs, they both
fulfilled their promises. Of this account, there is no reason to reject
so much as merely involves a common play of speech ; the rest is nut
admitted as correct by Lodge; nor is it reconcileable with the dates

* Postscript appended to Budtrel's Memoir. The assertion of the countess of
Warwick tjoes farther still, " that he was a widower when his lady, bv whom lit)
had a numerous issue, was in her nurse'.- arms."

I

given by the earl himself, in the narrative already cited ; as his first
wife's death occurred in 1599, and his second marriage in 1603.

In March 12, 1606, he was sworn privy counsellor for the province
of Munster; and on 15th February following, for all Ireland. After
several other lesser advancements and changes, he was, on 6th Sep
tember, 1616, created lord Boyle, baron of Youghall. Of this pro-
motion, the reasons assigned are not merely those military services
enumerated in most of the patents we have hitherto had occasion to
notice. Boyle is commended for the judicious erection of forts and
castles, and the establishment of colonies at his own cost, and it may
be added, for his own great advantage, without questioning the fur-
ther asseverations of the record, which proceeds to say, that all those
districts surrounding his properties were, by his prudence and industry,
become more civilized, wealthy, and obedient to the law.

In 1620, lord Boyle was advanced to the dignities of viscount Dun-
garvon, and earl of Cork.

In 1629, his lordship and lord chancellor Loftus were sworn lords-
justices. In 1631, he was appointed lord-treasurer, and continued in
the government till the arrival of lord Strafford.

Of lord Strafford we have already expressed our opinions; the
principle of his general policy was just and comprehensive: but it
must be allowed to have been harsh, unbending, and often unjust to
individuals. If in the prosecution of his public aims, he was in-
corrupt and no respecter of persons; he was arrogant, domineer-
ing, and heedless of every consideration, by which more scrupulous
minds are controlled. Such a disposition was, as we have endeavour-
ed to show, not unsuited to the actual condition of the country, at the
time; and had the irrespective principle of his policy been thoroughly
maintained, there would have been less reason to complain. But this
he found impracticable; and in yielding to influences and to circum-
stances which he could not control, his stern and overbearing temper
became tyrannical to a party, and oppressive to individuals. In aban-
doning a portion of his extreme and rigorous course, he gave a triumph
to the popular party, and diffused terror among its opponents. To the
leaders of the protestant party, such a line of conduct could not fail to
be offensive, as it was alarming: to these his hostility was early shown
by the arrogance of his deportment to many of the most influential
and distinguished of the Irish aristocracy. To the earl of Cork, his
conduct was insolent, oppressive, and illegal. This earl had com-
menced a suit at law, to which Strafford thought fit to interpose his
authority, and commanded that the earl of Cork should call in his writs,
" or if you will not, I will clap you in the castle ; for I tell you, I will not
have my orders disputed by law nor lawyers," such was the intolerable
mandate of this despotic minister. This incident derives some added
importance from the fact, that not long after, when Strafford was tried
for his life before the lords, it was brought forward against him; and
the earl of Cork summoned over to England to give his testimony.
The earl was a man unquestionably of a noble and manly nature ; but
generosity was not among the virtues of that day of rapine, intrigue,
and political baseness; and it will perhaps be no wrong to him to say,
that he must have felt, on that occasion, the triumph of his party, in

giving his testimony against the most formidable oppressor they had
then had to encounter.

The rebellion broke out in 1641; and though long expected by
every class, spread terror and dismay through the country; hatred,
distrust, and terror, seized the public mind; havoc and desolation
began their well-known progress, with far more than their wonted
fury. But such had been the effect of the earl's care, skill, and
liberality in the extensive plantations he had made, that the waves of
popular frenzy were retarded in their approaches to the county of Cork.
On this occasion he fortified his castle of Lismore, which he garrisoned
with an hundred horse and an hundred foot, and placed under the
charge of his son, lord Broghill. His son lord Kynalmeaky, he
placed in the command of Bandon bridge, a town erected by himself,
and of which the walling and fortifying cost him fourteen thousand
pounds, where he maintained a hundred horse and four hundred foot.
The earl himself, at the earnest entreaty of the lord-lieutenant, took
upon him the defence of the important town of Youghall, which was
the only retreat left for the protestants in that part of the kingdom.
There the earl, with his son, lord Dungarvon, his troop of cavalry, and
two hundred of his own tenants, took his dangerous position ; which he
thus describes in a letter to lord Goring, "encompassed with an innu-
merable company of enemies, and have neither men, money, or munition.
We are now at the last gasp; and, therefore, if the state of England
do not speedily supply us, we are all buried alive. The God of heaven
guide the hearts of the house of parliament to send us speedy succours ;
for if they come not speedily they will come too late."* We here give
another extract from the same letter, as it affords a very distinct view of
the general alarm of that appalling time. " This came last night about
midnight, from my son, Broghill, who hath the guard of my house at
Lismore ; whereby you will truly understand the great danger my son,
house, and all that ever I had, in effect, is in; whom I beseech God to
bless and defend; for the enemies are many, and he not above a hun-
dred foot and threescore horse in my house to guard the same. All
the English about us are fled, save such as have drawn themselves into
castles, but are but few in effect, and they very fearful. All the natives
that are papists, (the rest being few or none) are in open action and
rebellion. Except the lord Barrimore, who behaves himself most
loyally and valiantly. But alas! what is he with his forces amongst
so many, when the whole kingdom is out."f

At this time Kilkenny had been taken without a blow by the rebel
lord Mountgarret, and the countess of Ormonde made a prisoner in
her husband's castle; Cashel and Ferrers had surrendered; the pro-
testant inhabitants in all these towns were stripped and turned out
naked by the captors, " in such a barbarous manner as is not to be
believed."^ Clonmel threw open her gates, " and let in the rebels to
despoil the English," &c.

The earl soon made himself especially an object of attack by his
vigilant and efficient activity and prudence. A letter, which he

* Letters of the Eur) of Cork, among the State Letters of Roger Earl of Otrerv.
f Ibid. t Ibid.

THE BOYLES— RICHARD, FIRST EARL OF CORK. 133

addressed to the speaker of the English house of commons, will not only
give a just notion of the weakness of the enemy, but affords a strong
confirmation of some remarks which we have already offered as to tlva
cause. " Sir, I pray you give me leave to present unto yourself and that
honourable house, that this great and general rebellion broke forth in
October last, at the very instant I landed here out of England; and
though it appeared first at Ulster, yet I (who am threescore and six-
teen years of age, and have eaten the most part of my bread in Ireland,
these four and fifty years) and by reason of my several employments
and commands in the government of this province and kingdom, could
not but apprehend that the infection and contagion was general and
would by degrees quickly creep into this province as forthwith it did.
And for that I found to my great grief, that by the courses the late
earl of Strafford had taken, all, or the greatest part of the English and
protestants in this province were deprived of their arms, and debarred
from having any powder in their houses, and the king's magazines here
being so weakly furnished, as in a manner they were empty; I with-
out delay furnished all my castles in these two counties, with suck
ammunition as my poor armoury did afford, and sent £300 sterling
into England to be bestowed on ammunition for myself and tenants,"
&c, &c*

We shall here pass the further notices contained in this correspon-
dence, of which we shall make further use hereafter. The earl lost
his son, lord Kinalmeaky, in these wars; he was slain at the head of
his troop in the battle of Liscarrol, in which three of his brothers were
at the same time engaged, lord Dungarvon, and Broghill, and Francis
Boyle.

In July, 1 642, the earl was empowered and commissioned as Custos
Rotulorum of the county of Cork, to hold quarter sessions for the trial
of the rebels for high treason, at which eleven hundred were indicted.

The earl had, in the course of these two years, exhausted his means,
and reduced himself to the lowest condition of distress, by his free and
liberal contributions to the war. His estates were nevertheless the
most thriving- in the kingdom; his improvements were the most ex-
tensive, costly, and in their character the most well planned and public
spirited; his churches, hospitals, schools, bridges, castles, and towns,
would require pages to enumerate, so as to convey any adequate idea
to the reader. Cromwell's remark is well known, and considering the
speaker, conveys more than the most detailed enumeration. " That if
there had been an earl of Cork in every province, it would have been
impossible for the Irish to have raised a rebellion."! A remark elicited
by his astonishment on seeing the prodigious improvements effected by
the earl in the county of Cork.

The earl did not long survive these troubles, or live to see the end
of this long and disastrous war; he attained the mature age of 77, but
his period may perhaps have been abridged by the fatigues, anxieties,
and afflictions attendant on the last two years previous to his death.
This event occurred in 1643, in the month of September, at Youghall.
He was interred in his chapel within the parish church.

* StaU' Letters, &c. , Cox.

136 THE BOYLES— ROGER, LORD BROGHILL.

ROGER, EARL OF ORRERY.

BOKX A. D. 1621.

Tins distinguished nobleman was the third son of Richard Boyle,
the first earl of Cork, commemorated in the preceding pages. At the
age of fifteen, we are informed, he entered the university of Dublin,
from which he was in a few years sent by his father, to travel on the
continent — then, when the means of acquiring a knowledge of the world
from any means short of actual observation, were far less than in later
times, the only resource for the accomplishment of a man of the world.

Under the care of a Mr Markham, he made the tour of France and
Italy, and profited so much by the extended means of intercourse and
communication thus afforded, that his appearance at the English court
was greeted by general admiration and respect: nor was employment
slow in following. The earl of Northumberland gave him the com-
mand of his own troop in the expedition against Scotland; while, by
the interest of the earl of Strafford, whose regard is of itself a high
testimony of desert, he was created baron Broghill, 28th February,
1627.

During his long sojourn in England, he married the lady Margaret
Howard, sister to the earl of Suffolk; and with her arrived in Ireland
on the opening of the troubles of 1641, and proceeded with his lady
to his father's castle of Lismore, which they gained without any
alarm, as the breaking out of rebellion was not yet known in Munster.

A few days after, he was invited by the earl of Barrymore, his
brother-in-law, to dine at Castlelyons, where he met his father, the
earl of Cork, lord Muskerry, and other neighbouring gentry. On this
occasion it was that a messenger, arriving just before dinner, brought
intelligence to the earl of Cork, that the Irish were in rebellion, and
had taken possession of the entire country through which he had come.
All scattered to their respective homes to prepare for defence, or to
meditate the course they were to follow. The immediately succeed-
ing events we have already told in more than one memoir, but more
especially in that of the earl of Cork. In these lord Broghill bore
his full share, and conducted himself so as to have acquired increased
reputation for courage, sagacity, and military talent.

During the prog-ress of the ensuing protracted struggle, in which,
for a time, it became a question of difficulty to decide between the
respective claims of the several parties who were contending in arms
on the pretext of loyalty, or in the name of government, lord Broghill's
straight-forward common sense easily disentangled him from the per-
plexity of a sanction, which, on the one side, was false and fraudulent ;
and on the other had lost its vitality. He readily saw that the king's
authority could not be supported, that his cause was not maintained;
and that, while his friends were compelled to keep up a vain struggle
against every impediment, the rebels, who had assumed the pretext
of his name, were overwhelming with imputation a cause for which

THE BOYLES— ROGER, LORD BROGHILL. 137

they had little solicitude: the better interests of the country would
be meanwhile destroyed by a ruinous and wasteful continuation
of a warfare, which was not decided by soldiers on the field, but by
the rival plunderings, burnings, and devastations of those vast mobs,
which, under the name of armies, acted the part of locusts. This hap-
less condition of the country was daily becoming more apparent, and its
real consequences more clearly visible: the marquess of Ormonde, whose
strong zeal, and firm will had throughout endeavoured to stem the rush of
coming ruin, at last retired from a post which he had to the last moment
of possibility held with strong fidelity ; and the most devoted sacrifice of
self. The parliament now sent over their commissioners to conduct the
war. Of their power to crush rebellion, and restore the country to the
repose which was become necessary to its existence, there could be no
doubt : although to those who were most fully aware of the spirit in
which they acted, it was perhaps known that they were in no hurry to
effect such an object, nor likely to take any very effectual step until
they should first have obtained the completion of their ends at home.

By lord Brog'hill, still a very young man, and not versed in the
secret of their policy, it was naturally expected that as they had shown
some desire to assume the control of the war in Ireland, that they
would act with their known resource and vigour to reduce the country
to quiet. Accordingly, lord Broghill, as well as many other of the royal-
ist lords, acted for some time under the parliamentary commanders.

On the trial and execution of king Charles, the zealous loyalty of
lord Broghill was too violently shocked to admit of compromise with
his murderers, on any ground of expediency. He left the service, and
abandoning the country, retired to Marston, his seat in Somersetshire,
where he remained in quiet, and free from all public concerns, for
some time.

At last, like every active-minded man, he grew weary of repose :
he had also frequently reflected upon the heavy loss of his Irish estate ;
and probably, though with less reason, thought the time arrived when
some effort in favour of the young king might be attended with success.
By whatever motives he was actuated, he came to the decided resolu-
tion to see the King himself, and to obtain his commission to raise
forces in Ireland in his behalf; and, as his biographer adds, "to
recover his own estate." With this intent he raised as large a sum of
money as he could command, and applied to the earl of Warwick,
whose interest stood high, to obtain for him a passport to Spa, as he
wished to go abroad for the benefit of his health.

Full of this intention, he went home to make the preparations neces-
sary for his voyage; but he had not been many days there when he
was somewhat startled by a visit from a strange gentleman who came
from Cromwell, to say that he wished to visit lord Broghill, and desired
to know when it would be most convenient to his lordship to receive
him. Lord Broghill, in great surprise, at first expressed his opinion
that there must be some mistake, as he was quite unknown to the lord-
general, and had not for a long time been engaged in any public concern.
Upon being convinced however that there could be no mistake, he
returned a message that he would himself attend the general when-
ever he should desire. The gentleman retired, and lord Broghill was

138 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

left alone to consider what course would be most prudent to adopt — ■
whether to await a further communication from a person whose acts
were known to be so prompt and decided, or in the interval to proceed
while yet free upon his way. He was not however allowed to decide
for himself. He was yet wrapped in the perplexity of his situation,
when his meditations were once more interrupted by the sudden entry
of Cromwell. The lord-general then informed him, that " the com-
mittee of state were apprized of his design of going over and applying
to Charles Stewart for a commission to raise forces in Ireland: and
that they were determined to make an example of him, if he himself
had not diverted them from that resolution."* Lord Broghili was endea-
vouring to evade the necessity of admitting the accusation, and trying
to impose on the general by protestations of a very general nature,
when Cromwell drew from his pocket a parcel of papers, which he
silently put into his hand : on looking at these lord Broghili was aston-
ished to perceive that they were copies of his own letters to different
persons to whom he had confided his purpose. On this, lord Broghili
saw that it was useless any longer to persist in the attempt to baffle
the general, and confessed the wliole, thanking Cromwell for his pro-
tection. Cromwell assured him that though, till then, unacquainted
with him personally, he was no stranger to the high rejmtation he had
earned in the Irish wars ; and that as he was himself now appointed by
the parliament to command in Ireland, he had obtained leave from the
committee to offer his lordship the command of a general, if he would
serve in that war; " and that he should have no oaths or engagements im-
posed upon him, nor be obliged to draw his sword against any but Irish
rebels."| An instant's consideration was perhaps enough to show lord
Broghili that nothing could be more favourable to his own interest; nor,
considering the actual state of affairs, could there be a more useful or
honourable direction given to his activity and talent. Yet the sense of
party feeling was to be overcome, and lord Broghili asked for time.
Cromwell told him that he must decide at the moment, as the commit'
tee, which was yet sitting, awaited his return, and on hearing of lord
Broghill's hesitation, would instantly commit him to the Tower. Lord
Broghili then gave way, and assured Cromwell that he would faithfully
serve him against the Irish rebels. He was then desired to proceed
to Bristol, and there await the troops which should follow, with trans-
ports sufficient to convey them across the channel. Cromwell assured
him further, that he would himself speedily follow.

Lord Broghili followed these directions, and every thing having
been quickly provided, according to Cromwell's promise, he was soon
once more in Ireland. Here his reputation was high, and he was
quickly enabled to add materially to the few soldiers he had brought
over: a troop of cavalry, entirely composed of gentlemen, and fifteen
hundred well appointed infantry, enabled him to present a formidable
appearance; till on the 15th August, 1649, Cromwell landed in Wex-
ford, with an army of eight thousand foot and four thousand cavalry
two hundred thousand pounds in money, and an abundant store of all

* Budgel's Memoirs of the Boyle Family. f Budgell.

THE BOYLES— ROGER, LORD BROGHiLL. 139

military materials ; and thus commenced the last scene of this deep
drama of blood.

The landing of Cromwell put an end to all hopes on the part of
those who separated from the rebels as from the parliamentarians,
had till then hoped, by winning- over some of the more moderate, and
availing themselves of that general desire for peace which was begin-
ning to pervade the better classes, to be enabled to gain a party in
favour of the king. By the appearance of Cromwell's army, such hopes
were soon banished from the land with those who held them. The
earl of Ormonde, still resolving to hold on to the last extremity, but
having no resources left after the wreck of many brave and devoted
efforts, now rested his last hope in the endeavour to protract matters
for a time, in order to give discipline and confidence to his handful of
men ; he was not also without a hope that the strong parties, not more
hostile to his cause than they were to each other, might in some degree
balance and check others in the field, when a single blow might place
no small advantage in his power. He justly considered that Drogheda
would be likely to be the first object of Cromwell's attention, and pru-
dently took measures to have it put in a defensible condition with the
utmost haste. He committed it to Sir Arthur Aston, a most experi-
enced and gallant officer, with two thousand foot, and three hundred
horse, all chosen men: he also supplied him with such provisions and
ammunition as he desired. Having taken these precautions, the
marquis retired to Portlester, to be in readiness for the event. It was
generally expected that Drogheda would make a long and vigorous
defence ; and in the mean time lord Inchiquin was sent for to come
from Munster to his aid. Before the message had reached its desti-
nation, Cromwell was before the walls of Drogheda.

This event occurred on the 3d September, 1649- He lay still before
the town for a week — he had perhaps some expectation that the gar-
rison might be terrified into a surrender ; they on their part were far
enough from fear, for Drogheda had hitherto baffled all attempts
made during the last three years previous, and was thought by the
Irish generally to be impregnable, unless by treachery or famine. On
Sunday, the 9th of September, Cromwell sent in his summons, and on
receiving Aston's refusal to surrender, opened his batteries upon the
walls: from that moment a hot fire was kept up, till Tuesday at four in
the afternoon, when a breach was made in St Mary's wall, which Crom-
well judged sufficient for the purpose of an assault. His men were
twice repulsed. The account which follows is in some degree hard to
believe, but it stands upon authority* too creditable to be rejected.
In the third assault, the brave soldiers who defended the town were
disheartened by the fall of their leader, colonel Wall, who was killed
fighting at their head. Seeing them waver, the soldiers of Cromwell
assured them of quarter, and were thus admitted without further oppo-
sition. The same delusive proceeding was adopted while a single corner
was to be won, and the appearance of the most humane forbearance
kept up towards all who laid down their arms. But so soon as the
town was secured, Cromwell was (it is affirmed,) told by Jones that

• Carte.

140 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

the flower of the Irish army was there, upon which he immediately
commanded that no quarter should be given. On this a most dreadful
massacre commenced, and continued while a soldier of the garrison
remained. The soldiers of Cromwell are said to have shown great and
manifest reluctance to execute the barbarous command; but the rigid
and immovable temper of the lord-general was not one to be turned
by the relentings of the multitude. The horror of this atrocious deed
was increased, and its guilt aggravated, by the murder of the gallant
Aston, the governor, with his officers. This frightful incident is de-
scribed by the marquess of Ormonde, in a letter to the king, in which he
writes, that " On this occasion Cromwell exceeded himself, and anything
he had ever heard of, in breach of faith and bloody inhumanity; the
cruelties exercised there for five days after the town was taken, would
make as many several pictures of inhumanity as are to be found in the
book of Martyrs, or in the relation of Amboyna."* Nothing can justify the
deed here related, but some reasonable deductions may be made on the
consideration of time and place: at the time, Ireland had been, for an in-
terval of eight years, the scene of every atrocious crime by which human
history has ever been disgraced — the ordinary social state had become
one of lawless and indiscriminate war, depredation, robbery, and mur-
der, on every scale, and on every pretence; and though to a person,
during that period, intimately conversant with the country, and versed
in the complex relations of its party oppositions and affinities, it might
have been possible to make just distinctions, and ascertain the precise
limits of right and wrong; it is well known how in the neighbour-
ing country report confuses and exaggerates: how misrepresentations
on either side, meeting with indifferent ears, combine and blacken all
with mutual accusations; and while it is easy and not unpleasant to
those who are at a safe distance to believe the worst, the pleas of
justice or of excuse are mostly too local, personal, or limited, in char-
acter, to find their way, or to win the indolent attention of those not
personally interested. In England, the acts and sufferings of Irelaml
were heard as the uproar of a barbarous island drunk with an inap-
peasable mania of murderous frenzy : and the vague horror of such an
impression was heightened by the prejudices of political and religious
animosity. Cromwell was too sagacious to be altogether deluded by
the impression of popular ignorance, but it coloured his thoughts, and
gave a direction to his policy, as regarded the affairs of a country to
which but little of his mind had ever been given. It was his inter-
est, no less than the task he had undertaken, to quell without delay the
pertinacious and clinging element of destruction which must have
seemed inextinguishably mixed with the very life-blood of the people.
And as he perhaps was impressed with the sense, that languid opera-
tions and campaigns without result had been the main cause in pro-
tracting the state of war, in which the impunity of resistance had
encouraged the aggregation of mob armies, and the reorganization of
the defeated — he wasnot without some reason convinced of the necessity
of proceeding by terror. To carry on a protracted war with the hosts
of half-armed creaghts, who would scatter and reappear like mists,

* Carte.

THE BOrLES— ROGER, LORD BROGHILL.

141

while his resources were consuming1, and flux and fever wasting1 away
his force, were little consistent either with the probable pacification of
Ireland, or his own ambitious projects. And though the course he
took was an outrage upon humanity, it was not only effectual, but it
may be doubted whether less rough means could have settled a country
so thoroughly disorganized. The real effect of this cruel butchery
upon the public mind was different from that which it would now pro-
duce on a humane age — the congenial spirit of O'Neile was rather im-
pressed with the vigour and skill of the storm than by the atrocity of
the succeeding day's work — he is represented to have sworn, " that if
Cromwell had taken Drogheda by storm, if he should storm hell he
would take that too !" Carte observes, that " this was certainly an
execrable policy of the regicide, but it had the effect he proposed. It
spread abroad the terror of his name — it cut off the best body of Irish
troops, and disheartened the rest to such a degree that it was a greater
loss in itself, and much more fatal in its consequences than the rout
at Rathmines." To the same rough dealing Cromwell was not long
after mainly indebted for his unimpeded march to Dublin, when
obstacles sufficient to waste many months, and attended with num-
berless risks, were removed by the voluntary surrender of the towns
and garrisons in his way. We must now return to lord Broghill.
After Cromwell had proceeded south and obtained quiet possession of
Cork, Kinsale, Bandon and Youghall, he sat down before Clonmel.
Here Hugh O'Neile had collected 1200 chosen Ulster men, and as
lord Fermoy was also known to have sent a large army of several
thousand men to relieve this city, Cromwell detached lord Broghill to
intercept them. Lord Broghill marched in quest of this enemy, and
soon encountering a body of between four and five thousand men, he
gave them a complete rout. The battle was hardly over when an ex-
press from Cromwell brought the information that he was in a most
miserable condition before Clonmel, where his army was sinking under
the bloody flux, and had in their exhausted condition met two severe
repulses from the brave garrison. He therefore was enjoined to lose
not a moment, but to lead his men to assist the lord-general in this
pressing strait. Lord Broghill sent back word "that by the blessing of
God he had just defeated the enemy, and would not fail to be with him
in three days." He kept his word, and was received with acclamations
by the besieging army; Cromwell embraced him and congratulated
him upon his victory. With this reinforcement the siege was pressed
on with fresh alacrity and the town was soon compelled to surrender.
The garrison had been secretly withdrawn by O'Neile on the failure
of provisions, and the citizens were allowed to surrender upon honour-
able terms.

Some time previous to the termination of the siege, which had lasted
for two months, Cromwell had been recalled by the parliament, as the
want of his presence was felt elsewhere. On the capitulation, he
took his departure leaving Ireton as his deputy, and lord Broghill in
command of a " flying camp in Munster." In this command the
distinction he soon acquired was so great, and such was the general
influence gained with all parties by his good sense, moderation and
popular manners, that it soon became suspected that Ireton was either

envious of his reputation or doubtful of his fidelity. As these notions
found tongues enough they were quickly conveyed to the ears of lord
Broghill; he is indeed said to have received a letter from a Mr Lammas,
■who was Ireton's chaplain, advising him to take care of himself, for
Ireton, notwithstanding his professions of friendship and letters of con-
gratulation on his successes, had privately determined to destroy him.
On this Mr Morrice, the authority for this statement, mentions that
lord Broghill satisfied by so authoritative a warning, kept away from
Ireton as long as he could; he was however under the necessity of
joining him at Limerick.

The condition of the other party, if such an appellation is not incon-
sistent with its complex constituency, is at least characteristic of the
people. While the storm that was to crush them was gradually roll-
ing together over their heads, and the necessity of a resistance more
systematic and concerted than was hitherto resorted to, was felt by
every one, the efforts of Clanricarde and Castlehaven, were encumbered,
retarded, and rendered inoperative, by the factious intrigues of those,
who seemed more inclined to fight among themselves about questions,
and play the old destructive game of civil intrigue — than to resist the
common enemy. They were men who wrangled over a paltry game,
while their leaky pinnace was running into the whirlpool of destruc-
tion. Sir Charles Coote had taken Athlone and entered Connaught, and
while the earl of Clanricarde was vainly endeavouring' to collect an
army to resist his progress, the archbishop of Armagh convened a
synod, to receive father Anthony Geoghegan, who was arrived with in-
structions from the congregation cle Propaganda, in Rome : their first
decree was an order that no bishop should be admitted to sit in the
general assembly, until he should be absolved from the nuncio's cen-
sures; they declared the duke of Lorraine protector of the kingdom,
and with all the experience of ten years of social disorganization, yet
impressed in traces of desolation on every side, they only thought of
beginning again with the infatuation of 1642. Their immediate object
was to revive the confederacy, and to this purpose their entire means,
talents, and industry, were directed. Clanricarde at this time invested
with the royal authority and the sole support against the parliamentary
general, they considered as the g-reat obstruction to their designs; and
thus while they impeded all his efforts, they prepared for themselves
and their miserable supporters the retribution that was to follow. The
chief means by which this dissension was fatal, was by intriguing with
the inferior leaders to induce them to desert their posts and break
their appointments ; so that when Clanricarde and Castlehaven had
concerted the movements immediately necessary, and fixed upon the
position essem A for the counteraction of their opponent, the orders
were not carried into execution, and their best concerted operations
were always frustrated by some traitorous disappointment. Such is a
summary of tin obstacles to the efforts of the royalist party, previous
to the siege of Limerick by Ireton : we now come to the particulars
more immediately preceding that event.

It was the object of Ireton to pass the Shannon, in order to com-
mence the meditated attack. Having failed in the attempt to build a
bridge at Castleconnel, he was on his inarch to Athlone, the nearest

THE BOYLES— ROGER, LORD BROGHILL. 143

place where he could then hope to pass. To resist his progress
Clanricarde had an army of 7,000 foot, and 1,800 horse, with which
he intended to fight the parliamentary army. With this view he sent
to Castlehaven, to join him at a pass where he hoped to meet and
check its further advance. Castlehaven left the passes of Shannon
guarded, and marched to the rendezvous: but after about three hours'
march, a brisk report of continued firing- came from the quarter he
had left, and he was presently surprised to see approaching a troop of
cavalry, which he had left as a guard at Brian's Bridge: they came on
in the disorder of flight, though they were not pursued. On inquiry
he now learned that the parliamentarians had come on the other side
of the river,, and sending a few boats of musketeers across, the castle
of Brian's Bridge was treacherously betrayed to them by the captain
who commanded. As lord Castlehaven hurried back to arrest this
threatened passage, and recover the castle, news came of the further
defection of the colonel to whom he had committed the pass at Killaloe,
who with all his men had fled into Limerick. The effect of this in-
telligence was fatal : Castlehaven's army melted away in a few hours
from 4,000 to 40 horsemen, with which he himself was constrained to
make his way to the lord-deputy; who finding his weakness, and the
entire inefficacy of the worthless army, on which he had relied too far,
retreated: and Ireton was master of the Shannon.

There was now, therefore, no obstacle to the siege of Limerick,
which he at once commenced : and while he conducted his operations
with progressive regularity, there was within the walls no adequate sense
of the danger. Clanricarde, with the devoted gallantry of his char-
acter, offered to take the command, and share the fortune of the city:
he was refused, and Hugh O'Neile appointed governor, but without
more than a nominal authority ; the citizens, like the ecclesiastics,
thought more of protecting their own interests and immunities, than
of the common and imminent danger which was collecting round their
walls. There was thus little command, and no pervading authority:
a laxity of discipline favoured division of councils and the intrigues of
private fear and self-interest. A free correspondence with the surround-
ing country, was permitted, and the enemy were not suffered to be per-
plexed by any want of full intelligence of the councils and condition
of affairs within.

While the parliamentary troops lay round the walls, an account
reached them, that lord Muskerry was approaching at the head of
4,000 men, to the relief of the city. To check his approach lord
Broghill was detached with 600 foot, and 400 horse, and soon came
in sight of his enemy. At first Muskerry contrived b^ his movements
to impress the notion, that he had no design to approach Limerick,
and lord Broghill contented himself with a close observation of his
demonstrations. At last on the 22d June, towards evening, he received
intelligence, that Muskerry had sent a detachment to seize on Castle-
lisken, a strong place, directly on the way to Limerick. On this he
ordered out his men, and about midnight, in the midst of a violent
storm of rain and wind, attacked their camp, driving in the out-posts,
and raising such consternation that the whole army made its escape
ou the opposite side, and was at some distance before morning, from

144 TRANSITION".— POLITICAL.

the place where it had encamped. Lord Broghill availed himself of
this, by securing the way to Limerick, and then followed his enemy
over the Blackwater, which they passed in the interval.

Lord Broghill soon found them drawn up to receive him, and divided
his little party into three commands. Lord Muskerry's men took their
ground with a degree of resolution and steadiness, then quite unusual
among the Irish troops, a fact partly to be accounted for by the
absence of their ordinary resources for retreat : as they generally con-
trived to meet their enemy on the edge of some great wood or morass,
or near the defiles of some mountain pass. Lord Muskerry's men
had likewise been animated by the paltry appearance of their antagon-
ists, whom they easily surrounded: and evidently considered the victory
in their hands. They offered lord Broghill quarter, who refused it
for himself and his men ; and a desperate fight commenced. Lord
Broghill animated his men by his presence and example, and was the
most exposed where danger was the hottest; at last there was a cry
among the Irish, to " kill the fellow in the gold-laced coat," and a
determined rush was made from which his lordship could hardly have
escaped, but by the prompt aid of a lieutenant of his own troop, who,
before he succeeded in disentangling his lordship from the press, re-
ceived two shots in his body, and had his horse killed under him. The
situation of the English was desperate, and they fought with despera-
tion added to their wonted valour. The effect of this was soon felt
among lord Muskerry's ranks, and they at last after sustaining a tre-
mendous slaughter wavered, and gave way on every side, before the fury
of the parliamentary force. Six hundred fell and numerous prisoners
were taken.*

In the mean time, the citizens of Limerick were engaged in discus-
sion on the expediency of a capitulation. On the 23d October a meet-
ing was held in the Town House, by several officers and leading
citizens, who agreed in favour of a treaty of surrender, and proposed
to send commissioners next day to "the rebels." The bishops of Lim-
erick and Emly came to the assembly and menaced them with excom-
munication, if they proceeded with a design which they characterised
as delivering up their prelates to slaughter. The menace was disre-
garded— the excommunication with an interdict followed publicly,
and had no effect. The citizens were eager (and wisely) to save
themselves, and it had been throughout a matter of difficulty to repress
the clamorous importunity of the people for surrender. Hugh O'Neile
wished to hold out, but his power went no further than to set the
watch, while the mayor kept the key."j"

These dissensions seem to have risen to a dangerous height: colonel
Fennel, who sided with the mayor, took possession of Johnsgate and
(,'luam Towers, and drove out the soldiers of O'Neile. O'Neile sum-
moned him to a council of war: he refused to attend, and being sup-
plied with ammunition by the mayor, he turned the cannon on the
town, and declared that he would not leave his post until a surrender
should be agreed to. To enforce this declaration, he admitted two
hundred of Ireton's men, and a surrender was speedily settled, and

* Budgell. Borlase. f Carte-

THE BOYLES— ROGER, LORD BROGHILL. 145

concluded on the 27th. Twenty-four persons were exempted from
mercy. Of these, the bishop of Limerick escaped in a soldier's dress,
and found his way to lord Muskerry: the bishop of Emly, Fennel who
had been instrumental in letting in the enemy, the mayor, who gave up
the keys, and most of the other excepted persons were hanged by Ire-
ton's order.

A few days after Ireton died in Limerick; and the progress of the
campaign was checked by uncertainty as to the officer who should
take the command. We shall here follow lord BroghilPs fortune,
and leave the thread of Irish history to be taken up elsewhere.
The king had landed in Scotland — a rising in his favour under the
conduct of Lesley had been effected, and the command of the par-
liamentary troops had been transferred from Fairfax to Cromwell,
who was sent against the Scots. By the subsequent progress of
events, he arrived, as the reader knows, at the highest station in the
kingdom ; and, under the title of lord Protector, acquired a power
beyond that of which his unfortunate predecessor had been deprived
after ten years outpouring of English blood. Thus raised, Cromwell
acted with a degree of wisdom and efficient vigour, which has gone far
to counterbalance the means by which he attained his eminent position ;
and it must be regarded as a high testimony to lord Broghili's merit,
that this profound and keen observer and judicious statesman, should
have sent for him, as one on whose conduct, prudence, and valour, he
relied ; and, if true, the fact, mentioned by Budgell, confers no less
distinction — that he took " visible pleasure" in the conversation of lord
Broghill, Mr Waller, and Milton. Such is the testimony which makes
lord Broghill the selection of the most judicious, and associates him
with the greatest and noblest spirit of his age.

Nor was the preference of Cromwell such as terminates in favourable
regard, as it is mentioned by all of his biographers, that lord Brog-
hill was sent to Scotland as the fittest person to conciliate and suppress
the rough government of general Monk. He felt great and natural
reluctance to accept of this commission, but suffered himself to be
persuaded, with a stipulation for his recall in one year. After which
he remained in England, using his influence with Cromwell, so as to
protect the royalists. One day Cromwell told him in a playful tonp
and manner, that an old friend of his was just come to town; and to
lord Broghili's inquiry as to the person, informed him it was the mar-
quess of Ormonde. On this, lord Broghill protested his ignorance of
the fact, and was answered, "I know that well enough; however, if
you have a mind to £>reserve your old acquaintance, let him know that
I am not ignorant where he is, or what he is doing." He then let
him know the place where the marquess lodged; and lord Broghill lost
no time in making the important communication to the marquess, who
availed himself of it, to make his escape without delay.

Very shortly after, his lordship had an opportunity of standing
between the same noble family and the suspicions of the lord protector.
Cromwell received information that the marchioness of Ormonde, to
whom his own conduct had been generous and considerate, was engaged
in forwarding the plots of his opponents and enemies in London, where
she lived under his protection, with an allowance of £2000 a-year
II. K "tr.

146 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

Lord Broghill denied the probability of such an accusation, on which
Cromwell, who was then bitterly angry, threw him some letters, which
he told him had been taken from her cabinet, and desired him to read.
On looking at these, lord Broghill fortunately recognised the hand-
writing of the lady Isabella Thynne, between whom, and the marquess,
there had been a correspondence of the kind suspected by Cromwell.
When lord Broghill assured him that the letters were written by
that lady, Cromwell demanded his proof. The demand was promptly
met by the production of other letters from the same lady, " of
whom," writes Budgell, "he told two or three stories so pleasant, as
made Cromwell lose all his resentment in a hearty laugh."*

It is mentioned by the same writer, that when Cromwell's parlia-
ment was about to pass some very severe resolutions against Clanri-
carde, lord Broghill interposed, and made statements so creditable to
lord Clanricarde's character, that the resolutions were not brought to
a vote.

The death of Oliver Cromwell was followed by the transient pro-
tectorship of his feeble son, Richard. The general respect which the
strong character of his father had impressed, secured his unquestioned
succession: the turbulent and heterogeneous composition of the govern-
ment, army, and parliament — the unprincipled ambition of some, and
the fanaticism of others, quickly made his seat uneasy. A few per-
sons, who, by their rank and elevated principles of conduct, were alien
from the party with which they moved ; but who had, partly from neces-
sity, partly from gratitude, partly too from a just sense of public expe-
diency, served under the late protector, now continued faithful to his
son, when the crowd, whose motive is ever sordid, was falling away
from him. On his father's death, Richard Cromwell chose lord Brog-
hill, Dr Wilkius and colonel Philips to be his advisers: and the position
was one which brings into a strong light the tact and sagacity of this
lord. At the first meeting of his parliament a military faction entered
into one of those intrigues, which hitherto had been found successful as
a means to enable a few soldiers to control the government, and dic-
tate terms to parliament. All the fanatics, intriguers, and malcontents,
rallied round Fleetwood, Desborough, Lambart and other general offi-
cers, and formed a cabal, which, from the place of Fleetwood's resi-
dence, where they daily met, was called the " cabal of Wallingford
house:" they prevailed on the protector to sanction their meeting as a
general council, to inquire into the grievances of the army, and peti-
tion for their redress. They were no sooner met than they voted a
"remonstrance," in which they lamented the neglect of the "good old
cause," for which the army had fought and bled; and proposed that
the military power of the kingdom should be vested in some person
whom they could trust.

Richard Cromwell's friends were alarmed, they were all with one
exception peaceful men, whose habits unfitted them to cope with such
spirits ; but Broghill was more than equal to the emergency. Having
asked the fear-struck protector whether he had really consented to the
meeting ; Richard replied that he had. " I fear," said Broghill, " that

* Budgell.

THE BOYLES -ROGER, LORD BROGHILL. U7

your highness will soon repent it." The protector answered that lie
hoped his lordship would do what he could to prevent the mischief;
to this Broghill simply answered, " that as a general officer, he had a
right to be present, and would see what they were doing." He at the
same time turned to lord Howard and Falconbridge, who were pre-
sent, and expressed his expectation of their assistance, which " they
faithfully promised." On the meeting of the military council, these
lords, with lord Broghill, repaired to Wallingford house, where they
found five hundred officers assembled. After a prayer from Dr Owen,
Desborough made a long speech, in which, among other topics of the
same nature, he expressed his apprehensions of the departure of their
prosperity, from the circumstance that many " sons of Belial" had
latterly been creeping in among them. To remedy this, he proposed
" to purge the army:" as the most expedient method by which this
might be effected, he advised a test oath, by which every one in the
army should swear that " he did believe in his conscience, that the
putting to death of the late king Charles Stewart was lawful and just."
This proposal was received with a loud tumult of approbation; and
the whole assembly seemed so eager to have it adopted, that lords
Howard and Falconbridge, considering themselves a miserable minority
to outface five hundred persons, got up and went to give the protector
a sad account of this affair. But when the assembly became silent,
lord Broghill rose and declared his dissent from the last speaker; he
said, that " he was against the imposition of a test upon the army, as a
grievance of which they had felt the effects, and against which the^ had
repeatedly declared. That if they once began to put tests upon them •
selves, they would soon have them put upon them by others, and there
would be an end to that liberty of conscience for which they had so
often fought. To the particular test proposed, he objected, that it
was unjust and unreasonable to require men to swear to the lawfulness
of an action, the circumstances of which they were unacquainted with.
If, however, they would persist in desiring a test to purge the army,
he had as good a right to propose a test as any one, and would take
the liberty to offer one, which he hoped would be more reasonable
than that proposed by the noble lord who went before him. He then
proposed, that any one should be turned out of the army, who would
not swear to defend the established government under the protector
and the parliament." Among other arguments for this, he told them,
that " if that test should have the ill-fortune to be rejected in that
council, he would move it the next day in the house of commons,
where be was confident, it would meet with a better reception." This
proposal was yet more warmly received than the former; and, while
the assembly was yet in a state of noise and confusion, Broghill found
his way to another place between two very influential persons, colonels
Whalley and Gough, two " hot men," and persuaded them to take the
same part, which each of them did. In the mean time, Fleetwood and
Desborough, with some of their friends, retired to consult ; and having
returned, declared that they had not before considered all the disad-
vantages of tests, but they were now convinced so fully by the argu-
ments of lord Broghill, that they proposed to have both the tests with-
drawn. Lord Broghill cousunted, and the blow was parried for the

148 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

time. Lord Broghill then represented to the protector, whom ho
found in consternation, from the account of lords Howard and Falcon-
bridge, that this council would infallibly do mischief if they should be
suffered to hold their sittings. He advised their immediate dissolu-
tion. Richard Cromwell acceded, but desired to know how this was
to be managed. Lord Broghill proposed to draw up a short speech
for him, which he was to deliver next day after sitting among them
for an hour. This being agreed to, Broghill prepared the speech, and
at ten next morning, Richard Cromwell astonished the council by his
unexpected appearance; and, having taken his seat in a chair of state,
he sat for an hour listening to their debate. He then rose up, and
addressed them as follows: —

" Gentlemen, — I thankfully accept of your services. I have consi-
dered your grievances ; and think the properest method to redress
what is amiss amongst you is to do it in the parliament now sitting,
and where I will take care that you shall have justice done you. I
therefore declare my commission for holding this assembly to be void;
and that this general council is now dissolved; and I desire, that such
of you as are not members of parliament, will repair forthwith to your
respective commands."

This speech produced the intended effect of disconcerting the con-
spirators, and frustrating their immediate design. But, they were at
no loss to conjecture the source from which the blow proceeded, and
their anger against lord Broghill was vehement. They immediately
endeavoured to excite the irritation of that weathercock machine of
democratic impulse, a republican house of commons. Some one of
them the next day moved, that " an address should be presented to his
highness the protector, to know who had advised him to dissolve the
council of war, without the consent or knowledge of his parliament."
On this, Budgell says, it is hard to credit such absurdities, that some
of lord Broghill's friends advised him to retire. Lord Broghill sat
still until his enemies had made their speeches, and then addressed the
speaker to this effect: — " I am not against presenting this address;
but humbly move, that another may be presented to the protector at
the same time, to know who advised the calling of a general council
of officers, without the consent or knowledge of the parliament; for
surely that man is guilty, who durst advise his highness to call such
a council, without either the knowledge or consent of his parliament."

Now the majority of those present, not belonging to the military
council, were ready to take alarm at the overbearing demonstrations
of a power, of which, the effect had been repeatedly felt by this very
parliament. The speech of lord Broghill at once called up this general
sense to his rescue; it was a well-timed appeal both to the fear and
pride of the commons ; it was warmly received and the faction of
Fleetwood was again discomfited. But though the council of officers
had been thus dissolved, they continued to hold private meetings and to
concentrate the power which they held in their hands. It was evident
that their designs were not to be defeated by votes and the forms of civil
authority; lord Broghill and those who acted with him, apprized the
protector of the danger of his position, and expressed their opinion that
nothing- could save him. but the same vigorous and direct recourse to

THE BOYLES— ROGER, LORD BROGHILL. 149

strong measures which always characterized the jioliey and eusured
the success of his father. They volunteered to act for him, and pledg-
ed themselves to the success of the course they recommended. But
Richard Cromwell was mild, amiable and averse from all harsh and
violent proceedings, he felt himself to be unequal to the dangers and
difficulties, and to the cruel and arbitrary resources necessary in such
contests, and he recoiled from the suggestions of his firm and spirited
advisers. " He thanked them for their friendship, but he had neither
done nor would do any person any harm, and rather than a drop of
blood should be spilt on his account, he would lay down that greatness
which was but a burthen to him."

From this his friends came to the conclusion that he could not be
supported with any success, or to any useful end. They remitted in
their efforts and consulted their own interests. Lord Broghill repaired
to Minister, of which at that time, he was president; on his way he had
to encounter the ambushes and snares of Fleetwood and Desborough,
who would willingly be freed from the risk of again having to
encounter one so able and so honest. It was at this time that lord
Brosrhill came to the resolution to exert himself for the restoration of
the royal family. It had indeed become plain to every observant and
considerate mind, that it was the last resource against the utter disso-
lution of all civil order in the clash of parties, of whom none looked
beyond the object of private interest, pursued by means inconsistent
with any settled state of things, or any respect to constitutional rights.
With this impression lord Broghill retired to Ireland, to act as occa-
sion might offer means: he was pursued by the suspicion of his enemies.
Acting with an energy which the feeble Richard Cromwell was quite
unequal to resist, his military tyrants now compelled him to dissolve
the parliament, and took the reins of power into their own hands. He
signed his abdication, they restored the long parliament, and the coun-
try was at their mercy. To Ireland, they sent their commissioners and
gave them a special charge to have " a particular eye to lord Broghill,
and if possible to take some means to confine him." In pursuance of
this, these officials sent a summons to lord Broghill, to appear before
them in the castle of Dublin. He consulted his friends, and was by
them advised not to place himself in the power of his enemies. He
however, determined to outface them, for the refusal would be equiva-
lent to a direct defiance, which he did not yet consider himself able to
maintain, as alone it could be maintained, by a demonstration of
military resistance. He therefore took his own troop and repaired
to Dublin; and on his arrival, leaving his men without the town he
presented himself before the commissioners. They told him that
the state had been induced to suspect that he had designs against
their government, and had given them directions to confine him,
unless he could give sufficient security for his peaceable conduct.
Lord Broghill demanded what security they desired; they proposed
that he should enter into an engagement under penalty of estate and
life, that there should be no commotion in Munster ; he asked for
time to consider, it was refused; he then desired to be satisfied on one
point, " if they intended to put the whole power of Munster into his
hands, if such was their intention he was readv to enter into the en-

150 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

gagement they required, if not he must appeal to the world on the
cruelty and unreasonableness of expecting, that he would answer for
people over whom he had no control." The commissioners were em-
barrassed and ordered him to withdraw, and had a long discussion as
to the most expedient proceeding ; one of them, who was the lord chan-
cellor of Ireland, declared that " even the honest party in Ireland would
think it hard to see a man clapped up in prison who had done such
signal service to the protestants ; but that on the other hand, he could
never consent to an increase of lord Broghill's power, which the state
was apprehensive might be one day employed against them. He
for these reasons proposed, that they for the present should not take
any steps but contrive to send lord Broghill in good humour back to
his command, to continue there till they should be further instructed."
The board agreed — lord Broghill was called in, received with compli-
ments and smiles, and invited to dine with the commissioners, whom he
understood very well and repaid in their own coin.

Returning to Munster he proceeded steadily in the prosecution of
his design; first securing his own officers, he also made a friend and con-
federate of the governor of Limerick where there was a garrison of
2000 men, and having secured Munster, he opened a communication
with Sir C. Coote, who engaged in the same undertaking with an ardour
which demanded all the restraint which could be exercised, by his
more cool and cautious ally. Their efforts were soon successful be-
yond expectation; the country had long been ripe for the desired change.
Wearied with the continuation of a series of contests for power
and gain which appeared interminable, as one party succeeded the
other with the same objects, and as little regard for any consideration
divine or human, but the fear, revenge and cupidity which were the
common spirit of every side.

Lord Broghill sent lord Shannon to the king to invite him over to
Ireland, assuring him of a force sufficient to protect him against his
enemies. But Charles had at the same time reason to hope for a simi-
lar invitation from England.

The activity of Coote had excited the notice of the commissioners,
and finding that he could no longer proceed in secret, he urged lord
Broghill to an open course, Broghill reluctantly consented, he had in-
deed no choice. His confederate was acting with a vigour which quick-
ly produced extraordinary changes : having seized Galway, Coote sur-
prised Athlone, marched to Dublin and impeached Ludlow. While the
spirited example diffusing a general excitement, the royalists seized
Yougbal, Clonmel, Carlow, Limerick and Drogheda.

The magistracy of Dublin now acted their part and called a Con-
vention, which met and held its deliberations in defiance of an order
from the English council of state. The members of this assembly
declared their abhorrence of the proceedings of the high court of jus-
tice, and of the late king's murder. They secured the payment of the
army and declared for a "free parliament;" a phrase then universally
understood to imply the restoration of the royal family, for such was
known to be the universal sense. The English parliament were this
time compelled to confine their attention to the desperate effort of self-

THE BOYLES— ROGER, LOED BROGHILL. 151

preservation; after a few last efforts they recalled their agents; and
the king was soon proclaimed in Ireland.

Lord Broghill met with a cold reception from the king. He sus-
pected that he had been injured by Coote, and to counteract the im-
pression which he thought to have been made upon the king by the
misrepresentations of a rival, he sent his brother lord Shannon with a
letter of Coote's, containing an acknowledgment, that it was at his
instance that he first entered on the design of declaring for the king
and parliament. This lord Shannon contrived to show to his majesty,
and it had the effect desired. Lord Broghill was soon after created
earl of Orrery, made one of the lords-justices in Ireland and president
of Munster.

We have now to conclude with some notice of the literary produc-
tions, which would entitle this nobleman to a place in a different
section of this work, if his far more eminent qualities as a soldier and
a statesman, did not place him among the most eminent political
characters of his own time. When the political state of the two king-
doms at last subsided into that repose so much and so long desired, the
activity of the earl of Orrery's spirit no longer exercised in the field
and council, found its occupation in the pursuits of literature; or as
one of his biographers describes this change of employment, " finding
that there was no longer any occasion for his sword, resolved to em-
ploy his wit and learning for the diversion and amusement of his royal
master."* The first results of this new turn of the earl's loyalty were
his plays, which we must admit owed their eminent success to the ex-
ceedingly depraved state of literature and literary taste in the time of
Charles II. They were received with a degree of applause which
might be appealed to as a test of merit, but which when justly appreciated
only shows the absurdity of such a test; and their court favour was no
less than their public success. Of this it is mentioned as a proof that
in his play of Henry V., " Mr Harris who acted as king, was drest in
the duke of York's coronation suit; Mr Betterton who played Owen
Tudor, in king Charles's, and Liliston who represented the duke of
Burgundy, in the lord Oxford's.'f

He wrote many poems, of which the composition may be described
as poor and inartifical, though the thoughts display the moral elevation
of the writers mind. We here extract a portion of one upon the death
of Cowley, for whom the earl entertained a high regard.

" Our wit, till Cowley did its lustre raise,

May be resembled to the first three days;

In which did shine only such streaks of light,

As served but to distinguish dav from night.

But wit breaks forth in all that he has done,

Like light, when 'twas united to the sun.

The poets formerly did lie in wait

To nfle those whom they would imitate ;

We watch'd to rob all strangers when they write,

And learned their language, but to steal their wit;

* Budgell's Memoir. t Budgell.

He, from that need his country does redeem,

Since those who want, may be supplied by him ;

And foreign nations now may borrow more

From Cowley, than we could from them before ■

Who, though he condescended to admit

The Greeks and Romans for his guides in wit,

Yet he those ancient poets does pursue.

But as the Spaniards great Columbus do;

He taught them first to the new world to steer,

But they possess all that is precious there.

When first his spring of wit began to flow,

It raised in some, wonder and sorrow too;

That God had so much wit and knowledge lent,

And that thev were not in his praises spent :

Hut those who in his davideis look,

Find they his blossoms for his fruit mistook.

In diff'ring ages diff'rent muses shin'd ;

His green did charm the sense his ripe the mind.

Writing for heaven, he was inspired from thence,

And from his theme derived his influence.

The scriptures will no more the wicked fright.

His muse does make religion a delight.

Oh ! how severely man is us'd by fate !

The covetous toil long for an estate ;

And having got more than their life can spend,

They may bequeath it to a son or friend :

But learning (in which none can have a share,

Unless they climbe to it by time and care ;)

Learning, the truest wealth a man can have,

Does with the body perish in the grave :

To tenements of clay it is confined,

Though 'tis the noblest purchase of the mind :

Oh ! why can we thus leave our friend possess'd

Of all our acquisitions but the best !

Still when we study Cowley, we lament,

That to the world he was no longer lent;

Who, like a lightning to our eyes was shown.

So bright he shined, and was so quickly gone :

Sure he rejoiced to see his flame expire,

Since he himself could not have raised it higher.

For when wise poets can no higher fly,

They would, like saints, in their perfections die.

Though beauty some affection in him bred,

Yet only sacred learning he wou'd wed ;

By which th' illustrious offspring of his brain

Shall over wit's great empire ever reign :

His works shall live, when pyramids of pride

Shrink to such ashes as thev long did hide."

r>

His lordship's leisure at the end of a life of busy political labour,
appears indeed to have been more productive of great and varied
efforts of literature than the whole lives of most writers, and lead us to
infer that if he had lived in a later age when the education of public
men became more elaborate and extended, his genius would have dis-
played itself to advantage in some more congenial labours than those
elaborate specimens of an art which, to ensure any result of standard
value, demand a more peculiar combination of powers than are required
for the ordinary toils of either cabinet or camp. Besides the produc-

THE BOYLES— ROGER, LORD BROGHILL. 153

tions which we have already noticed, the earl composed the romance of
" Parthenissa," in six parts, dedicated to Henrietta Maria Duchess of
Orleans. We extract the opening of this dedication which is char-
acteristic of the writer and of his time.

" Madam, — When I had last the honour to wait on your royal high-
ness, you ordered me to write another part of Parthenissa, and you
gave me leave at the same time to dedicate it to you. Only your
commands, madam, could have made me undertake that work; and
only your permission could have given me this confidence. But since
your royal highness appointed me to obey, it was proportionate to your
goodness to protect me in my obedience, which this dedication will;
for all my faults, in this book, cannot be so great as his, who shall
condemn what has been written for you, and is by your own allowance
addressed to you."

The earl of Orrery also wrote a treatise on the art of war, in which
he displayed much acquaintance with the ancient writers on that art.
He wrote a reply to " a scandalous letter lately printed and subscribed
by Peter Welch, procurator for the secular and reg'ular priests of
Ireland," and lastly " poems on most of the festivales of the church."
The preface to this latter little work merits attention. " God of his
abundant mercy, having convinced me how much precious time I had
cast away on airy verses, I resolved to take a final leave of that sort
of poetry; and in some degree, to repair the unhappiness and fault of
what was past, to dedicate my muse in the future entirely to sacred
subjects."

He is mentioned to have mostly written his poetry while confined
by fits of gout; on which Dryden's compliment has been preserved:
" like the priestess of Apollo, he delivered his oracles always in tor-
ment; and that the world was obliged to his misery for their delight."

Lord Broghill is known also to be the writer of the act of settlement
which soon after passed. This we shall have again to notice, when
we come to detail the events of Irish history after the restoration.

He continued to obtain the respect of the country and the favour of
the court; and was so esteemed for his superior sagacity and knowledge
of affairs, as to be almost uniformly consulted on every occasion of
moment by the king. His time was divided between his presidency
and London, where he attended both as a peer of parliament and a
member of the council.

He died 16th October, 1679, leaving a high character as a soldier,
a statesman and a writer. Among the prominent peculiarities no-
ticeable in the history of his life, the extraordinary combination of
readiness and self-possession which so often extricated him from difficult
emergencies in which most persons would have been lost, must have
repeatedly attracted the reader's notice. His personal appearance is
thus described: " his person was of a middle size well shaped and come-
ly, his eyes had that life and quickness in them which is usually the
eign of great and uncommon parts. His wit rendered his conversation
highly entertaining and amusing."*

* BudgelL

154 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

THE DE BUKGOS.

RICHARD, FOURTH EARL OF CLANRICARDE.

In the preceding volume, pages 256 — 265, the account of this an-
cient and illustrious family is brought down to Eichard, second earl of
Clanricarde, of the branch which preserved the original name and
English connection. The subject of the present memoir first entitled
himself to the notice of government by conduct which indicates his
loyalty and good sense. His father having declared himself for the
earl of Tyrone, he repaired at once to England,* by which he not only
constrained his father's conduct, but extricated himself from the suspi-
cions which it would otherwise be hard to escape, without taking some
course at variance with his duty to his father. In 1599, he was ap-
pointed governor of Connaught. But the most distinguishing incident
of his career is to be found in the history of the battle of Kinsale,
fought in 1601, between the English under lord Mountjoy, and the
confederate forces of O'Neil and O'Donell.f In our account of this
battle we have already had to mention that he conducted himself with
extraordinary valour, and by achievements of personal prowess, earned
the distinction of being knighted upon the field of battle. In this
battle he is said to have slain twenty of the enemy, and to have had
numerous remarkable escapes, "his garments being often pierced with
shot and other weapons."

In consequence of this, and other services in the same war, king
James appointed him governor of Connaught, keeper of his house at
Athlone, and one of the privy council. The continuation of this me-
moir could offer nothing more than successive appointments, now of no
historical importance or personal interest. In 1615 he refused the
presidency of Munster, on the excuse of a long illness, and the king,
from a consideration of his valuable services in that province, appointed
him to the command of the county and city of Galway.

In 1624 he was advanced to the English peerage, under the title
of baron Somerhill, and viscount Tunbridge ; and in a few years
after, Charles I. conferred the title of baron of Imany, viscount Gal-
way, and earl of St. Albans. He took his place by proxy in the Eng-
lish house of lords, in 1635, but died the same year. Lodge, from
whose peerage we have collected these particulars, quotes the following
extract from Strafford's letters: — "This last pacquet advertised the
death of the earl of St. Albans, and that it is reported that my hard
usage broke his heart ; God and your majesty know my innocency ;
they might as well have imputed to me for a crime his being three-
score and ten years old ; but these calumnies must not stay me humbly
to offer to your majesty's wisdom this fit opportunity, that as that can-
toned government of Galway began, so it may end in his lordship's
person."

This nobleman was married to the daughter and heir of Sir Francis
Walsingham, secretary of state to queen Elizabeth: she was the widow

* Moivson. t Ibid.

THE DE BURGOS— TTLICK, FIFTH EARL OF CLANRICARDE. 155

of Sir Philip Sidney, and again of the unfortunate earl of Essex; by
her third husband, the earl of Clanricarde, she had one son, Ulick de
Burgh, the next earl, whose actions and public character will also
claim a place among our illustrious men.

ULICK, FIFTH EARL OF CLANRICARDE.

DIED A. D. 1657.

This earl was in great favour with the unfortunate Charles I., to
whom he had a strong personal attachment. In the summer of 1G41
he came over to his seat at Portumna, and on the breaking out of the
rebellion took the most active steps for its suppression, and for the
counteraction of its effects. Being governor of Galvvay, his official
powers and personal influence were rendered effective, and commanded
a high ascendency in that fearful period. The English knew him to
enjoy the favour and confidence of the king, and the Irish looked to
him as their friend and chief, to which rank he was entitled by his
extensive possessions. He summoned all who held lands of the king
to be ready to take arms. He summoned an assembly at Loughrea,
and so restored the confidence of the proprietors that they agreed to
raise a considerable force. The lords-justices, to whom he applied,
were of the puritan party, and refused their co-operation. The course
they took was to disarm the loyal nobility of the pale, and thus drove
many into the rebel party. By the active instrumentality of the earl
of Clanricarde and of the Lord Ranelagh, the president, Connaught
had been kept tolerably quiet. The earl strengthened the fort of Gal-
way, personally inspected every armament and post of defence, animated
the loyal and reassured the wavering. But the disaffection of the pale
rapidly spread — insurgents from the surrounding districts flowed fast
in, harassing and endangering the peaceable inhabitants of the province.
At length the town of Gal way became infected by the widely-spreading
disorder. Alarms and terrors combined with discontents began to pro-
duce their usual effects upon the fickle multitude; and under pretext
of ill-treatment from the governor, they besieged the fort and reduced
the garrison to extreme distress. The earl, on hearing of their ex-
tremity, rapidly collected a small force and hastened to their assist-
ance. But though utterly unable with his handful of men to cope with
the assailants, he subdued them by that moral energy of character for
which he was so remarkable, and compelled them to suspend hostilities
and come into terms, until the king's pleasure should be known, promis-
ing in the meantime that the town should be taken under his majesty's
protection. The best effects seemed likely to follow upon this occur-
rence, and Lord Clanricarde was successfully exerting his pacific
influence over the minds of the people, and gradually bringing them
back to their allegiance, when the lords-justices, already calculating
on the forfeitures to be obtained, expressed their extreme disapproval
of the protection granted to Gal way, and peremptorily commanded the
earl to receive no more submissions. They also directed the gover-
nors of forts and other commanders, to enter into no terms with the

156 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

rebels, but to exterminate them, and all who should harbour them, with
fire and sword. The insurgents grew desperate, and besieged the lord-
president in the city of Athlone, where he was at length relieved by
the earl of Ormonde. Clanricarde, though justly irritated at the con-
duct of the Irish government, remained unshaken in his loyalty, and
still continued his zealous and efficient exertions for the re-establish-
ment of tranquillity. Towards the latter end of this year a convention
was held at Kilkenny by the chief portion of the Roman catholic
nobility, prelates, and clergy, in which they professed their allegiance
to the king (while they violated his authority and prerogative,) and
their intention of being guided by the laws of England, and the statutes
of Ireland, as far as they were not inconsistent with the Roman catholic
religion. They enacted many laws and regulations, and when the
order of government had been adjusted they selected their provincial
generals. Now that the rebellion had taken a more specious and
civilized form, and that the lords-justices had made themselves so ob-
noxious to all the high-minded and loyally-disposed, they hoped to gain
over lord Clanricarde to their standard, particularly as the maintenance
of the Roman catholic faith was one of their chief and most ostensible
objects. They accordingly nominated him to the chief command in
Connaught, and appointed colonel John Burke as his lieutenant-general.
No inducement, however, or specious representation could alter lord
Clanricarde's determination; he rejected all their overtures, scorned
their sophistical arguments, and with unshaken loyalty adhered to the
broken fortunes of his master, notwithstanding the threats and excom-
munication of his own clergy, which they resorted to as a last resource.
When lord Ranelagh the president of Connaught quitted his govern-
ment in despair, intending to lay before Charles the ruinous and faith-
less conduct of his justices, Clanricarde still continued at his post,
though abandoned to his difficulties and his best acts maligned. Lord
Ranelagh was seized immediately on arriving in Dublin, and put into
close confinement, so that even the faint hope the earl might have
entertained of receiving succour from the king's supporters was dis-
sipated. As the position of the king's affairs became more desperate
in England, he was proportionally anxious to bring the rebellion in
Ireland to a termination, and expressed his willingness to receive and
consider the complaints of the recusants. He accordingly issued a
commission under the great seal of England, to the marquess of Or-
monde, the earl of Clanricarde, the earl of Roscommon, viscount
Moore, and others, to meet the principal recusants and transmit their
complaints; to the bringing about of this arrangement the lords-justices
opposed every obstacle. It was however at length effected, and the recall
of Sir William Parsons followed, on the exposure of his iniquities. The
province of Connaught was nearly reduced to desperation, the rebels
were every day increasing in numbers, and were possessed of many of
the most important forts. Lord Clanricarde's towns of Loughrea and
Portumna, were all that in the western province remained in the pos-
session of the royalists. About this period the marquess of Ormonde
concluded a treaty with the insurgents for the cessation of arms for a
year, to which lord Clanricarde and several other noblemen were
parties. In 164-1 he was made commander-in-chief of the military

THE DE BURGOS— ULICK, FIFTH EARL OF CLANRICABDE. 157

in Connaught, under the marquess of Ormonde, and in the same
year he was promoted to the dignity of marquess, with limitation to his
issue male. He was also made a member of the privy council, and zeal-
ously exerted his increased influence and power for the benefit and
tranquillization of the country. An attempt was made during the
campaign of Cromwell to recover Ulster from the parliamentary army,
by a conjunction of the northern Irish with the British royalists of this
province, under the command of the marquess of Clanricarde; this
however was defeated by the intrigues of lord Antrim, and the Irish
refusing to follow any leader but one of their own selection. During
the long and factious struggle of the Roman catholic prelates with
lord Ormonde, Clanricarde marched with his forces to oppose the pro-
gress of Ireton and Sir Charles Coote towards Athlone, when the
sentence of excommunication was published at the head of his troops,
so as to discharge them from all obedience to the government. No
representations of the moderate party could induce those haughty
prelates to revoke the sentence of excommunication, and all that could
be obtained from them was a suspension of it during the expedition
for the relief of Athlone. When at length their insolent and obstinate
resistance drove Ormonde from the kingdom, he appointed Clanricarde
as his deputy with directions to act as circumstances and his own
judgment should direct. Had Clanricarde consulted his own interest
or safety he would never have undertaken so thankless and dangerous
a responsibility; but his was too noble a nature to let personal consid-
erations weigh for a moment against a sense of duty, and his zealous
and devoted attachment to the king made him anxious to preserve even
the semblance of his authority in Ireland; and he also thought that
by continuing the war even at disadvantage in that country, he might
in some degree divert the republican army from concentrating their
forces against the king and the English royalists. Clanricarde accord-
ingly accepted the office, but had to encounter a difficulty in the very
outset, in getting the instrument which was to bind both parties, drawn
with sufficient simplicity to prevent its covering dangerous and doubt-
ful meanings. The Roman catholics had now a chief governor of
their own religion, and Ireton was disappointed in his advance upon
Limerick, so that the Irish, still possessing that city, Galway and Sligo
could have made a good stand against the republicans. Ireton made
propositions through his agents to the assembly to treat with the par-
liament, and the fatal influence exerted by the nuncio still predominated
and induced the clergy to listen favourably to these proposals. Clan-
ricarde indignantly represented the treachery and baseness of such
conduct, and the leading members of the assembly joined in expressing
the same sentiments, saying, " it is now evident that these churchmen have
not been transported to such excesses by a prejudice to the marquess of
Ormonde, or a zeal for their religion, their purpose is to withdraw
themselves entirely from the royal authority. It is the king and his
government which are the real objects of their aversion, but these we
will defend at every hazard; and when a submission to the enemy can
be no longer deferred, we shall not think it necessary to make any
stipulations in favour of the secret enemies of our cause. Let those
men who oppose the royal authority be excluded from the benefits of

158 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

our treaty." The clergy, little accustomed to such language, at length
submitted, and the treaty was rejected. They still, however, retained
their hatred to Clanricarde, and held secret and seditious conferences.

The success of the republicans daily increased, but still Clanricarde,
with desperate fidelity, adhered to the royal cause, and aided by some
Ulster forces, took the castles of Ballyshannon and Donegal. At
length, on the dispersion of his troops and the total exhaustion of his
own resources, he yielded to the stern necessity of his position, and
accepted conditions from the republicans.

His Irish estate, of £29,000 a-year, was sequestered, and he retired
to Summerhill, in Kent, where he died in 1657. He married early in
life the lady Ann Compton, daughter of the earl of Northampton, and
by her had one daughter, who married Charles, Viscount Muskerry.

THE BUTLERS.

JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE.

BORN A. D. 1607 — DIED A. D. 1688.

Thomas, the tenth earl of Ormonde, who was among the most
illustrious warriors and statesmen of the sixteenth century, was yet
living in the next at an extreme old age, at his house on Carrick-on-
Suir, where he died in his 88th year, in 1614. As he had no male
heir his estates were limited to Sir Walter Butler of Kilcash, his
nephew, and grandson to the ninth earl. Sir Walter's eldest son
Thomas, by courtesy lord Thurles was drowned 15th December, 161 9>
near the Skerries, in his passage from England, twelve years before his
father's death. By his lady, Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Pointz of
Acton, in the county of Gloucester, he left seven children, of whom
James the eldest is the subject of the following memoir.

This distinguished statesman is said by Carte to have been born at
Clerkenwell in London in 1610, but Archdall shows from the unques-
tionable evidence of an inquisition taken at Clonmell, April, 1622, be-
fore the king's commissioners and twelve gentlemen of the county of
Tipperary, that his birth took place in 1 607. The words of the inquisi-
tion are " Predictus Thomas vicecomes Thurles, 15th die Decembris,
anno dom., J 6 1 9» obiit et quidam Jacobus Butler, communiter vo-
catus dominus vicecomes Thurles, fuit filius et haeres prsefati Thomae
Butler, et quod praefatus Jacobus Butler, tempore mortis praedicti
Thomae fuit aetatis duodecim annorum, et non amplius." Carte
refers to the difference of date thus maintained, but mentions that
he never obtained a sight of the inquisition, and therefore con-
siders it insufficient ground for rejecting the duke's own statement,
which makes it 1610.

At the period of his birth his father was under the displeasure of
Sir Walter Butler for having married contrary to his wish. And when
he went with his lady into Ireland, they lived for some time in the

'

\.Ful!:i'-: n ■■ ' '•' 1 '-i- ■ '

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 159

county of Cork at the house of Mr Anthony Southwell; but their first
born, James, was left with his nurse, who was a carpenter's wife at
Hatfield.

In 1613 they sent for him, and his first voyage at this early age,
and at a time when travelling was more tedious and liable to casualties
than is now easily appreciated, made an indelible impression on his
memory. He was often afterwards heard in the last years of his life,
to allude to his recollection of being carried over the bridge at Bris-
tol, and of the varied new sights which attracted his childish notice.

His grandfather's resentment had by this time passed, and the old
earl his great-granduncle was desirous to see a descendant who was to
be the future representative of his honours. And the duke often men-
tioned his recollection of this ancestor, then a blind old man, having
a long beard and wearing his George about his neck whether he
" sat up in his chair or lay down in his bed." He remained while in
Ireland with his grandfather at Carrick-on-Suir, until 1620 the year
after his father's death; he was then removed by his mother to
England, and received by courtesy, the title of viscount Thurles.
He was then, according to his own statement, nine years of age, and
was placed at school with a Roman catholic named Conyers, at
Finchley near Barnet.* This arrangement was not long allowed to
continue. King James who considered that the principles of the rising
generation would constitute a most important element in the plans on
which his mind was then intent, the furtherance of the reformation and
the improvement of Ireland, had made some rather arbitrary stretches
to secure this important point. By some manoeuvre of Sir W. Parsons
the wardship of lord Thurles became vested in the crown upon his
father's death, although he inherited no lands the tenure of which in-
volved this consequence.

The king equally apprehensive of the family and kindred, as well as
the schoolmaster, all Koman catholics, removed the young nobleman
from Finchley and gave him in charge to Abbot, archbishop of Canter-
bury, by whom his education, as well as that of other youths com-
mitted to his charge, was much neglected. Carte who mentions these
particulars, observes that his writings afterwards were such as to show
that their great excellence both as to matter and method, were rather
due to the force of his clear and vigorous understanding than to early
cultivation. In the archbishop's family he was but indifferently attend-
ed to in other respects. Abbot received no compensation from the
king, and must have indeed felt the charge to be rather onerous. Lord
Thurles was allowed but £40 a-year for himself and his attendants.
His own small estate was under sequestration, and as the reader mav
happen to recollect, the bulk of the family estates had passed from
them by an unjust decision of king James.

Thomas the 10th earl of Ormonde, having no issue male, had set-
tled the chief part of his estates upon his nephew, Walter Butler, with
remainders over to the male heirs of Walter, and in the succession of
inheritance, to the male representatives of each branch of the family,
from the first earl of Carrick. He moreover, specially, reserved cer-

* Carte.

160 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

tain manors and £6000 for his daughter. On his death the title
came to Sir Walter, who also thought by the settlement here mention-
ed to take possession of the estates. But king James had given the
daughter of his uncle in marriage to Sir Richard Preston, one of the
grooms of his chamber, whom he created earl of Desmond. Preston
preferred a claim to these estates in right of his wife, who was heir
general; along and vexatious suit followed, during which the king
interfered at every step to overrule the judg-es: the case was however
too plain, for even the compliance of that day, and the judges decided
contrary to the desire of the king, who then decided the question him-
self by a stretch of arbitrary power, For his favourite. The earl at-
tempted to resist this grievous wrong, for which the king seized on all
his estate and committed him to the Fleet, where for eight years he
was reduced to the most shameful extremes of want. This occurred
when lord Thurles had attained his nineteenth year; he then went to
live with his grandfather, at a house which he took in Drury Lane,
upon his liberation from the Fleet prison.*

The young lord Thurles had been brought up a protestant, while
the earl was, as his ancestors had been, a Roman catholic. He did
not however show any concern in the religion of his grandson, who it
is said, at this interval of his life entered very much into all the most
approved gaieties of his age, and passed but little time in the earl's
company. He manifested a very strong preference for the theatre,
which seldom wanted his presence, and was on terms of intimacy
with all the actors. He was no less assiduous in pushing his way at
court; and we are inclined to think, began already to be governed by that
superior sagacity, prudence and discretion which so prominently colour
tiie whole conduct of his life. His active spirit must have manifested itself
early to his nearest acquaintance, by many small incidents not recorded;
and we doubt not but he already began to be marked by the observant,
as one likely to take a prominent place in the foremost wave of the age's
progress. It was perhaps with some such perception that the duke of
Buckingham when about to embark for the relief of Rochelle, refused
to allow lord Thurles to accompany him, on the pretence (for with the
unprincipled Villiers, it must have been such) that he had not the per-
mission of earl Walter his grandfather. The earl was then in Ireland,
whither he had returned to look after his property, and had not been con-
sulted by his grandson, with whose actions he had not been in the habit
of interfering. The young lord would have pressed his wishes, and
remained for the purpose at Portsmouth, where the expedition was on
the point of sailing; but the assassination of the duke put an end to
this expectation and he posted back to London.

It was about six months after this incident that he first met the lady
Elizabeth Preston, his kinswoman, and the heiress of those large estates
which by the settlements of her grandfather should have descended to
himself. Her mother was at the time not long deceased, and her
lather had like his own been drowned near the Skerries, in his passage
from Dublin to Holyhead. The king had given her guardianship to
the earl of Holland, then groom of the stole, and a favourite at court.

• Carte.

— "I

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 161

She had reached her fourteenth year, and is said to have at that early
age been well informed in the history of the lawsuit, which had been
so disastrous to the house of Ormonde, and was yet, likely to be attended
with further mischief to both parties, as it was yet kept alive. It was
also perhaps strongly felt, that the injustice by which her right com-
menced was not likely to outlast the favour and the obstinate self-asser-
tion of the king. These impressions appear to have had their full
weight on the minds of both parties, and no less on those of the more
prudent part of their kindred. Among others, the lord Mountgarret
is mentioned,* as having entered strongly into the interests of his
kinsman, and as he had constant opportunities of visiting the young
lady, he was sedulous in his endeavours to interest her in favour of
lord Thurles. She was designed by the king for some favourite whom
it was his desire to enrich, but she soon manifested a lively preference
for her young relation, whose very handsome person, spirited manner, and
engaging conversation, had with the representations of others engrossed
her entire affection. This could not be long concealed at court, and
soon reached the royal ear. One day when lord Thurles went to court
he was called by the king, who warned him "not to meddle with his
ward." Lord Thurles answered that " he never saw her any where
but at court, where all paid her respect; and he having the honour to
be her kinsman, thought he might do the same as well as others; but
if his majesty would forbid him his court he would refrain from it.''
The king was embarrassed and replied, "no, I do not command that."+
The object of lord Thurles' most anxious wishes was thus apparently
brought near by affection and choice, while the prejudices and pro-
jects of the king seemed yet to interpose a wider barrier; but some
of the main obstacles had recently been removed and others had to be
combated by exertion. The duke of Buckingham's assassination had
cleared a formidable opponent from the path. Buckingham had a sister
married to William Fielding, earl of Denbigh, for whose youngest son
he had obtained the promise of the young lady in marriage; and her
father was not only thus pledged, but in order the better to secure his
own claims to the estates of the earl of Ormonde, he had prevailed on
the king to grant him the wardship of lord Thurles, by which means
he had acquired as much power over him as over his daug-hter. The
death of both these parties opened a way for the negotiation of the matter ;
and to this lordThurles determined to resort. There were some slighter
impediments, but the only one worth naming was the influence of the
earl of Holland, who obtained the lady's wardship from the king on
her father's death. As however lord Holland had no object but
the then common one of the pecuniary advantage accruing from such
an office, lord Thurles took the obvious and direct course of an offer
of £15,000, which was more than in the ordinary course the guardian
could hope to make by the other proposed marriage. Accordingly he
agreed : and the suit being thus advanced through this legitimate
authority the king soon consented: he had a strong regard for the
memory of Buckingham, and felt desirous to fulfd his known wishes in
iavour of his nephew; yet he could not but have recognised the hard-

* Carte. I Ibid.

IT. L Ir.

162 TPANSIT10\.— POLITICAL.

ship and injustice attendant on the whole proceeding', from beginning to
end; so that when applied to through the formal channel he had no reluc
tance to wave cH'ms, which could only be maintained by the impor-
tunity of court favour. He issued letters patent dated, 8th September,
1629, declaring that "for the final end of all controversies between
Walter earl of Ormonde, and Elizabeth, daughter of Richard earl of
Desmond, he had given his consent, that there shall be a marriage
between James viscount Thurles and the said Elizabeth, and, grants
her marriage and the wardship of her lands to the said Walter earl of
Ormonde, &c, &c"

This marriage was solemnized in London, Christmas, 1629, and
four days after lord Thurles went with his lady to Acton in Gloucester-
shire, the seat of his uncle Sir Robert Pointz, where for the following
year he remained, chiefly occupying himself in study. His education
had been neglected while he resided with the archbishop, and after he
left his tutelage, he had entered into the dissipation of the court with too
much zest to admit of much profitable cultivation. But in the calm and
tranquil seclusion of domestic life his good taste and good sense re-
cognised the disadvantage, and his active spirit prompted the correction.
The chaplain of his uncle was his able and willing assistant, and gave
him such instruction as was thought requisite at that period.

At the end of 1630 he went to reside with his grandfather in
Carrick, where he chiefly resided till 1632 when the earl died; and lord
Thurles thus succeeded to the estates and honours of his illustrious race.
Of the most active disposition, he had at once on coming to Ireland de-
termined to enter into the service of the crown, and purchased a troop of
horse in the king's army in Ireland ; and soon after made a journey
to England, to solicit in some matter of confiscations due to the king.
We only mention the circumstance here for the sake of a few slight
incidents, which Carte relates, and which help to throw some light
on his personal qualities and character. " Having travelled over part
of the country and visited his lady's relations, he rode from Edinburgh
to WTare in three days, and could easily have been in London that
night, had he not thought it convenient to stay there; but so little
sensible was he of any fatigue, that, finding books in the room, instead
of going to rest, he fell to reading, and about the dead of the night
lighted on the ' Counter Scuffle' which he had not seen before, it put
him into such a fit of laughter, that the landlord and his wife started
out of their sleep amazed, and scarce able to imagine what the matter
could be."* His journey home, in about a year and a-half after, is no
less descriptive of the travelling of his age. He left London on Saturday
morning in September, having two horses upon the road; he proceeded
to Acton within eight miles of Bristol, where he received a message
from the captain of the " Ninth Whelp," in which he was to sail, that the
wind was fair for Ireland, and the vessel would sail by eight next
morning. " His lordship took care to be on board by that hour, and
first making a hearty meal, went to his rest and slept eleven hours at
a stretch. The ship set sail by nine with so favourable a gale, that
by nine next morning they ran up to Waterford, and his lordship meet-

• Carte.

-•-

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 163

ing with Sir Robert Welsh there, got horses from him, rode sixteen
miles to his house at Carrick, and dined there that same Monday at
three of the clock."

ft was about the same time that the earl of Strafford was sent over
to the government of Ireland; and the reader is aware of the state of
this country at the time. Half-conquered, half-settled, having im-
perfectly undergone those reducing and civilizing, though cruel pro-
cesses by which all other nations have attained political maturity;
planted, subjected, and ruled sufficiently to cause immense irritation,
but insufficiently for the purpose, the country existed in a state not to
be classed under any political category, or described truly, unless by
comprehensive exceptions, negations, and qualifications. The com-
mon people were slaves, and in a state of the most barbarous degrada-
tion; the chiefs were disaffected to government and discontented with
their condition, and anxious for the return of their ancient despotisms.
The English were balanced between the oppressions of unsettled law,
and the encroaching anarchy which on every side pressed upon its
ineffective control; the clergy were strenuously wielding a newly ac-
quired popular influence, to obtain an ascendancy for their church,
and to crush the growing power of the church of England; while
this latter in its turn, was compelled to maintain its existence by the
use of such weapons of defence as the political forces of government
afforded. Such was the involved state of the political elements which
Strafford came to overrule, by the exertion of a sagacious understand-
ing and a degree of political courage rarely if ever excelled.

It is hard now to pronounce, how far the policy of Strafford might
have been eventually successful in reducing to a state of civil order
such a chaos of troubled elements. But the juncture of events was
singularly unfortunate for the undertaking, and the rough means of
which it demanded the employment, became in the event sad aggrava-
tions of the evils which followed. At the same time that Wentworth
was endeavouring with a rough hand to mould the heterogeneous ele-
ments of Ireland, into the form of constitutional polity; the very power
on which all authority over this country could subsist, was beginning
to be rudely shaken by the beginning of a involution. The contentions
between king Charles and his parliament, soon withdrew the attention
of the English cabinet from the real interests of Ireland, and the
policy of lord Strafford was crossed, entangled and rendered incon-
sistent by the interference of considerations arising from the position
of English affairs. The sound and sagacious system of controlling
and improving policy, soon degenerated into a mingled system of
forced expediency and state manoeuvre, which neutralized the good of
a firm government and added to the evils which were to follow.

It was in such a critical position of both countries that we are to
introduce the young earl of Ormonde into public life. The earl of
Strafford, whose policy it was to control every spirit, had exercised a
despotic personal control over such of the aristocracy as were not the
partakers of his councils. Of this we have already offered some ex-
amples. Among other things indicative of the stern and absolute
temper of his government, was the order by which the members of the
Irish parliament were disarmed by the usher on entering the house.

This order, was, it is true, warranted by several precedents in both
countries, and was rendered seemingly expedient by the animosity of
parties, and by the circumstance, that the parliament then held its sit-
tings in the castle. It is also likely that the parliamentary character
of the dangerous proceedings then passing in England, made it seem
expedient to tread down to the utmost the temper of the Irish parlia-
ment which was more likely to show the insubordinate temper than
the constitutional wisdom of that of England. Whatever was the
policy, the order was made by proclamation, that the lords and com-
mons should enter the house without their swords; and the usher of
the black rod was stationed at the door to receive them from the mem-
bers as they entered. To the demand of this officer all assented, and
no demur was made until the earl of Ormonde came. As he proceed-
ed to enter, without taking the slightest notice of the usher's first
intimation, he was brought to a stand by a more peremptory check from
this officer, who stepped before him, and with the usual " jack-in-office"
impertinence of state menials, demanded his sword. The earl shortly
answered, that if he had his sword " it should be in his guts," and
without further notice of the cowed official, walked to his seat. This
incident could not fail to find its way at once to the viceregal ear:
Strafford felt outraged at so unexpected a defiance of his authority,
and resolved to make the refractory young noble feel the weight of-
his power. Without a moment's delay, he sent to summon the earl
to his presence at the rising of the house. Ormonde came ; he was
asked if he was not aware of the order, and if he had not seen the
lord-lieutenant's proclamation? he replied in the affirmative, but added,
that he had disobeyed them in deference to a superior authority to
which his obedience was first due, and then he produced the king's
writ, by which he was summoned to come to parliament cum gladio
ductus. To this there was no immediate reply; though Strafford
regarded the words as merely formal, they were too express a justifica-
tion, and on too specious an authority to be slighted, and he was un-
willingly compelled for the time to dismiss the offending earl without
even a reprimand. This was not very agreeable, either to his policy
or to his peremptory temper, and he seems to have for a while balanced
on the adoption of some vindictive course. He consulted Sir George
Radcliffe and Mr Wandesforde, the master of the rolls, who were both
his confidential friends and advisers: he told them that "the single
point under consideration was, whether he should crush so daring a
spirit, or make him a friend."* Sir George Iladcliffe, the friend of both,
gave this prudent advice, " that as it was necessary for the lord-deputy
to have some friends among the great men of the king-dom which he was
to govern, so he knew none among them all who so well deserved to be
made a friend as that earl, whether he considered the power which his
birth, alliances, estate, and capacity, gave him in the nation, or his per-
sonal qualities, the zeal which he had both by principle and inclination
for the service of the crown, the generosity of his nature, and the
nobleness of his sentiments which qualified him for such a friendship
us he should wish his patron to enjoy and cultivate." Such was the

* Carte.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 105

counsel adopted by lord Strafford. It was indeed amply recommended
by other considerations as likely to have immediate influence. Ormonde
already possessed the weight which was due to his active energy of
character and his property in the country: in parliament he had not
only his own voice and vote, but was fortified with the proxies of the
lords Castlehaven, Somerset, Baltimore and Aunger. Strafford entered
with the determination of his own character into the course he now
adopted, and soon came to the most friendly understanding with
one whose principles were all conformable to his own on the questions
of main importance. The friendship of Stratford was prohahiy of no
small use to the earl in the conduct of some private affairs respecting his
estates, which he had then for some time been engaged in negotiating
with government. A project for the plantation of the large tracts of ter-
ritory, known by the designation of Upper and Lower Ormonde, had long
been entertained, and at several times taken up by the crown. It was
important to the earl, as involving the question of rights in a district
of which he was the chief proprietor. The plan was revived under
the active and improving administration of the earl of Strafford, and
Ormonde received notice of it from Sir W. Ryves, who at the same time
pressed him to take the same course wdiich his grandfather had done,
which was to enter with zeal into the project and make a composition
with the government for the saving of his own rights and estates. This
was the more likely to succeed, as the inquisition essential to the pur-
pose of government, to ascertain the title of the crown, required the
inspection of his lordship's title deeds. The king had also written to
enjoin, that every attention should be paid to the wishes and to the
interests of the earl. Under circumstances so favourable, the plan was
highly to the advantage of Ormonde, who entered into it readily, and
won the favour of the king and the Irish government by the alacrity
with which he offered his services, and afforded the use of the neces-
sary documents. The spirit of compliance was desirable to encour-
age, and there was thus an additional reason on the part of govern-
ment for making every concession . to Ormonde, so as to display to
others in a strong light the advantages of the concession he had made.
By the help of these advantages, and his own active temper, Ormonde
not only secured his own estates but contrived also to settle and esta-
blish some claims which had been rendered questionable by the en-
croaching disposition of his neighbours. He obtained also in addition,
a grant of the fourth part of the lands to be planted by the crown.
He also obtained grants of a thousand acres each for his friends, " John
Pigot, Gerald Fennel and David Kouth, esquires."*

After some minor honours, not sufficiently important to detain us
here, the earl was in 1640 appointed lieutenant-general of horse, with
£4 per day ; and during the absence of the earl of Strafford, he was
made commander-in-chief of the forces raised by this earl for the aid
of the king against the Scots. Strafford sailed for England 3d April,
1640, leaving Wandesforde his deputy; and by the extraordinary
activity and diligence of Ormonde, an army of 8000 effective men was
rapidly collected in Carrickfergus. As there was no result of anyin>

* Carte.

1GG TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

portance, we forbear from entering1 into the full details of this service:
the levies were easily made, but the means for their payment were not
so readily forthcoming, and the delay caused much inconvenience, and
some false movements in the council not essential to relate. This army
was actually commanded in Carrickfergus by St Leger, as the earl of
Ormonde was obliged to remain in Carrick by the illness of his
countess, who was soon after delivered of a daughter — the lady Eliza-
beth Butler afterwards married to Philip earl of Chesterfield.

The absence of Ormonde from parliament, where his great influence
and commanding ability had leading weight, was now strongly felt,
and his presence was importunately desired by Wandesforde. As
however he was reluctant to leave his countess in her illness, he com-
promised the matter by sending the proxies intrusted to him, together
with his own to noblemen in whom the government might confide.
The parliament, had become at this time more difficult to manage than
hitherto: the example of the English parliament, the infection of the
covenanters, the yet latent springs of the approaching rebellion, had
given a tone to their temper, which the absence of Strafford left un-
controlled. Strafford was detained, first by his own protracted illness,
and then by the illness of the earl of Northumberland, whose place he
was compelled to fill in the command of the king's army against Scot-
land. During this time, the Irish parliament made a violent and
partly successful effort to diminish and delay the subsidies which had
been voted for the public service: so that in consequence a consider-
able sum was not levied, till the eruption of rebellion in the following
year put an end to the proceeding.* The expedition ag-ainst Scotland
was rendered abortive by the king's irresolution and the intrigues of
his leading officers, who were secretly promoters of the parliamentary
party, and consequently favourers of the covenanters; and the founda-
tion of all his subsequent disasters was laid by the treaty of Rippon.
The prosecution of Strafford followed and the death of Wandesforde.

In the course of 1640, and the following year, the earl of Ormonde
exerted his best abilities in parliament to resist the strong popular cur-
rent that had set in against the king. The absence of the earl of
Strafford, and the perceptibly increasing power and success of the
English commons had first produced a new and sudden change in the
temper of the commons: from being obsequious and complying, they
took at once the tone and entered into the views of the English com-
mons. Their former loyalty, which was the subserviency of fear and
self-interest, was at once and wholly thrown aside; and the spirit which
it had required a firm hand to suppress, and would have required a long
continuance of civil subordination to correct, blazed forth with all the
fierceness of sect and party: the personal animosities, the national pre-
judices, the resentment of wrongs, the long-fostered aims, ambitions,
discontents, and jealousies, all rushed into a contest, in the course of
which all had something to gain, to redress, or to revenge. The
Roman catholics and the puritans, hitherto violent in mutual fear and
hate, felt for a moment the tie of a common interest, and advanced
together to the work of confusion. Yet, as ever has been the case in

* 'l'lic detail of this intrigue will be found in Carte, I. pp. 99 — 102.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 167

the public movements of faction, the declared motives and the public
complaints were such as to. impose upon the general historian a neces-
sity of admitting- that their language is not contrary to reason, or
their complaints and demands devoid of justice. The reason, however,
and the justice, will, in the case before us, upon a fair view of the
facts, appear to be little more than specious pretences, addressed to the
ignorance and prejudice of the public mind — ever facile and precipi-
tate, and more so then than now. We cannot here devote a dozen
pages to the minute analysis necessary to expose this error ; which is
however of the less importance, as it seldom imposes upon any person
capable of reflection, unless when he imposes on himself, It will ap-
pear on strict investigation, that the chief part of the demands and
complaints of this parliament owe their present appearance of right
and justice to the want of an adequate conception of the real state of
Ireland, its parties, interests, and civil state at that period: the remain-
ing portion was advanced, not for its justness or expediency, but for
the vexatious purpose of party. It may be looked on as a maxim, that
in any state of things the disposition to find fault can never be at a loss
for fault to find; and having guarded our meaning with these qualifi-
cations, we may say that the first ebullition of the commons, though
evidently vexatious in purpose, was highly warranted injustice. The
principle of taxation was unequal, and threw the burden almost ex-
clusively on the aristocracy: the subsidies, which had nevertheless
been freely voted, were exorbitant, and the method of rating- them un-
equal and oppressive. Their complaints of the conduct and fees of the
ecclesiastical courts and other similar institutions, perverted for the
purpose of exaction, were founded in truth, though mainly recommend-
ed to the parties as affording a common basis for present union.

In the following session they met in a temper of still increased
resistance, and went more directly to their purpose. The laws which
Strafford had obtained for national improvement, were the first objects
of attack, they represented the inconveniencies attendant upon the en-
forcement of the laws against plowing by the horse's tail, burning corn
in the straw, plucking- sheep alive, &c. ; and in their violence displayed
their sense of constitutional freedom by urging the remedy of these
complaints by the application of arbitrary power on the part of govern-
ment.

Their attack upon the subsidies was the most effective effort of their
combination with the English parliament. Having in the beginning
of the year voted four entire subsidies, and shewn their readiness to
add to this tribute of zealous devotion, if the king should require it :
in a few months more, they complained of the burden and postponed
its levy; and on their next meeting, before the same year was past, they
passed a resolution for the purpose of defeating it entirely, by which
it was reduced to the tenth of its amount.

The contest, as it deepened, supplied them with more weighty and
better considered topics of grievance, and having become closely
cemented with the English Commons, they received the aid of pro-
founder knowledge, and were urged on by more long-sighted atrocity
than their own. The remonstrance contrived by the prosecutors of
Strafford gives a deeper and more statesmanlike tone to the pro-

168 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

ceedings of this otherwise trifling assortment of factions. In this
remonstrance they set forth the happy subjection of Ireland to Eng-
land— the descent of the greater part of the people from English
parents — the ancient extension of magna charta to Ireland — its flour-
ishing condition, and its liberal subsidies. From these they pass to the
misgovernmentof the earl of Strafford, and the various exactions, oppres-
sions, impolitic measures, and malversations, by which this country, the
great and flourishing descendant of England, was suddenly reduced to a
state of exhaustion and poverty: the decay of trade — the perversion of
law — the denial of rights and graces, monopolies, tyrannies, &c. A
remonstrance composed of sixteen articles — specious in sound, and
grounded on partial statements as well as gross misrepresentations and
false views of justice and political expediency, but well suited to the
temper of the time — had been voted by the commons. It was intro-
duced in the lords, where it was defeated by the strenuous efforts of
Ormonde; aided by the superior intelligence of that body, which then,
as ever since, and indeed it always must happen, combined a greater
portion of the political knowledge of the existing period.

On the death of Wandesforde, the earl of Strafford earnestlv advis-
ed the king to appoint Ormonde to the government of Ireland. But
though such also was the king's own judgment, a very violent opposi-
tion was made by the Irish commons, and it is attributed to the ani-
mosity and the intrigues of the earl of Arundel that this opposition
was successful. The earl of Arundel conceived himself to be entitled
to large property in Ireland, which was in the possession of the earl of
Ormonde and others. The lands in question were a portion of the
lands of Strongbow, which had passed with one of his daughters by
marriage into the family of the earl of Norfolk, from whom lord Arun-
del derived his claim. But upon inquisition, it was discovered that the
lands which might be affected by this claim were different from those
for which it was made: the inheritance of the lady who married Hugh
Bigod, earl of Norfolk, being in the county of Catherlogh, (Wicklow,)
while the territory of Idough now claimed, had been broug-ht by
another daughter into the possession of an earl of Gloucester, from
whom it was traced till it came by regular descent through the family
of March to Edward IV. Being thus vested in the crown, it was
granted by James I. to Francis Edgeworth and his heirs, from whom
it was purchased by the earl of Ormonde and the earl of Londonderry.
These facts were affirmed by an inquisition issued 1 1 Car. I. On this
occasion it would appear from Carte's statement, that some flaw which
he does not sufficiently mention, was found in the titles, and that con-
sequently the earls of Ormonde and Londonderry passed the lands in
fee-farm for a rent of £30 a-year to Sir Charles Coote, who afterwards
joined them in passing the same lands to Mr Wandesforde, who took out
new letters patent on the commission for the remedy of defective titles.
The earl of Arundel's pretence to any title seems to be clearly out of
the question ; but his desire to obtain the lands was excited and kept
alive by an artful projector who filled his imagination with glittering
dreams of Irish gold ; and when the king's title was found, he got
letters from his majesty to the lord-deputy to give him the preference
of such lands as had belonged to his ancestors. As no lands were

found to answer this description, he was disappointed, and his pride
mortified, and he hecame the active enemy of both the earls of Or-
monde and Londonderry.

King- Charles, whose facility in yielding- to influence was among the
first means of that reverse of fortune, which was aggravated perhaps
by the obstinacy of his conduct, when resistance became dangerous,
now yielded to the counsellors by whom he was surrounded; and we
are inclined to attribute it more to the influence of his own enemies
than to those of the earl of Ormonde, that this nobleman was set aside
in deference to the clamour of the Irish commons, who were wholly
unworthy of regard. The appointment of Dillon and Parsons followed,
of whom the former was as we have already explained soon dismissed
to make way for Sir John Borlase.

A stormy session of parliament followed in which nothing worthy
of detail occurred. The two houses were engaged in mutual conflicts,
which mainly originated in the irritable temper and the perverse ob-
stinacy of the house of commons: they met with well-tempered and
effective opposition in the lords, where the earl of Ormonde took the
lead of the king's party, and displayed a degree of firmness, judgment,
and sagacity, which would indeed be a sufficient reason for the detail
of the circumstances, had we not by far too large a fund of more important
matter, illustrative of the character of this great man. The most
memorable proceedings of the session consisted in a factious and
scandalous impeachment of the members of Strafford's council at the
suggestion of the conductors of his prosecution in the English parlia-
ment, for the sole purpose of preventing their attendance to give testi-
mony in his favour. The charges were vague, and upon that fright-
fully iniquitous abnegation of all the principles of justice, the rule of
cumulative treason, by which it was assumed that many slight mis-
demeanours not separately treasonable, might in their sum amount to
treason. As these charges were futile, so the collision to which they
gave rise did not consist so much in their consideration, as in a con-
tinued struggle on either side to effect or frustrate their real and direct
intent, which was the confinement of the persons accused. The most
curious of the small incidents of this protracted and turbulent discus-
sion, was a suggestion prompted by the bold and ready ingenuity of the
earl of Ormonde, in answer to the urgency of the opposite party for the
arrest of the lord-chancellor; to this importunate proposal he answered
that his removal would be a suspension of their authority; a point
which caused great discussion, and thus with many other such frivolous
questions helped to divert the efforts of the parliamentary faction in
both houses from graver mischief.

The next affair which immediately engaged the attention of the earl
of Ormonde, was of far more interest. There was not money either
for the maintenance or the dissolution of the army which had been
raised in Ireland. And the king was insidiously urged upon the sub-
ject by the parliament, for the evident purpose of embarrassing him.
His resources had been entirely exhausted, and it was felt to be a matter
of the most pressing necessity, to disband a large body of men for
whom he could not afford either pay or sustenance. As hoAvever this
could not well be managed without the immediate disbursement of a

large sum of money, no expedient seemed better than to send this
force into foreign service. The English parliament, urged by the
Irish agents in London, addressed the king on the expediency of their
being speedily disbanded, and he answered, by informing them of
his difficulties and of the expedient he intended to adopt. On the
very next day, 8th May, 1641, he sent an order to that effect to
the Irish lords-justices, and a letter to the earl of Ormonde to take the
necessary steps, for the cautious and peaceable discharge of a duty so
nice and difficult. He signed also warrants for seven of their colonels
to transport a thousand men each, out of Ireland for foreign service.
Meanwhile, the provision of the requisite expense was entirely left to
the Irish government. The lords-justices consulted with the earl,
but they could only ag-ree to execute the order as they might, and
Ormonde sent bis warrants as lieutenant-general to have the soldiers'
pay stopped from the 25th of the same month. By great efforts, among
the king's party in Ireland, a small sum sufficient for a part payment
to the soldiers, enabled the earl to succeed in his difficult task, and by
the aid of precise arrangements, and much vigilant and active precau-
tion, he succeeded in disbanding them without any of the disorders that
were apprehended.

Preparations had at the same time been made to send the re-
giments as already ordered into Spain, and the Spanish ambassador
bad expended large sums, when suddenly the commons started a new
discontent and clamoured loudly ag-ainst this disposition of the army.
They affected to fear, that the king of Spain would use them only to
raise rebellion in Ireland, after the example of his grandfather. The
suggestion was perhaps more founded in probability than sincerely meant,
as we have already stated in our notice of Roger Moore;* and it was
a fact well known to one of the parties then composing the popular fac-
tion in the house, that the rebellion was at that moment in the course of
preparation, and its first outbreak actually under contemplation, in thu
very place and among the very persons pointed out by their suggestion,
the Irish refugees in Spain. Such was the substance of the speeches
of the parliamentary leaders, Darcy, Cheevers, Martin and others, who
specially mentioned several of those Irish officers who commanded the
Irish in the Spanish service, with the titles of their Irish rank, "Prince
of Ulster, marquis of Mayo, and earls of Desmond and Beerhaven."
By this clamour the king's design was interrupted and a most violent
contest ensued, which in the course of the summer was transferred to
the English house, where it was pursued with equal violence and per-
tinacity, to the great embarrassment of Charles, whom it involved
with the Spanish ambassador and humiliated in the eyes of the public,
and of all Europe.

On the attainder of Strafford, he urged upon the king to give the
garter, which would thus become vacant, to the earl of Ormonde; as
considering him the person most likely to be both efficient and zeal-
ous in his service, under the pressure of those great embarrassments
which were progressively thickening around him. Nothing can
indicate more plainly the impression made by the character and con-

* Life of Roaer Moore, Vol. IT.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 171

duct of Ormonde upon the mind of that great statesman ; and it is not
less a high proof of Ormonde's elevated disinterestedness, that he re-
fused the honour on the ground that in the king's present difficulties,
it could be cf use as a means to win over, or to fix the adhesion of
some one less steady and principled than himself.

We now come to the rebellion of 1641, which we are to view mainly
in relation to the conduct of the earl of Ormonde; but from the central
position which his power and station, as well as his conduct and character
affords, we shall take the occasion to give a more methodical and broader
sketch of this marked portion of our history, of which we have already
been enabled to offer select details and scenes. For this purpose, little
more will be necessary than to notice briefly in their order of time
the main series of general events, only expanding into detail those
which bear any direct reference to the immediate subject of our nar-
ration.

Upon the fullest investigation of the preceding history, we can have
no doubt that a rebellion was for many years in preparation. It was
looked to by the clergy as the only means of raising them to that po-
sition of authority and influence, of pomp and splendour, which they
saw exercised by their order upon the continent. The native Irish
chiefs looked upon it as the only hope of their restoration to their ancient
rank and estate. The lawyers viewed it as the harvest of their order,
whether as opening- the field of legal extortion, or the path to official
malversations. The people, who were poor, lawless, and barbarous,
had visionary ideas of advantages, artfully suggested by their leaders,
and more substantial notions of the harvest of plunder and the delights
of military license. These combustible elements lay crudely combining
under the quiet surface of peace and progressive improvement, the
results of the plantations and institutions of the last reign; and slowly
matured for the moment of occasion.

That moment was brought on by those various and rough collisions
of party, which we have slightly sketched in this memoir. The troubles
of the king- were the fundamental cause; from this all received a vio
lent accelerative impulse, and in the separate lines of their several views,
came together, to seize the evident occasion and to fix and widen the
breach which was made in the ramparts of civil order, for the surer and
safer execution of their several designs. Within the walls of parlia-
ment, and within the circles of office, influence and power, all may be
considered as having had their definite aims: every one was for himself,
his party, or the constitution, or the king. Without, the views of the
multitude were agitated and fluctuating, the people whose understand-
ings are the tongues of their leaders, or the report of rumour, wrere
filled with various sentiments of discontent, anger,fear, and expectation.
The specious misrepresentations of a parliament of which the main
weapon was the language of grievance and accusation, filled the country
and gave a prevailing tone to popular feeling. And thus under circum-
stances from which rebellion would have arisen out of the position of
the king's affairs, a long organized rebellion was kindled. Roger
Moore and his associates as isolated individuals could not have moved a
man, or done more than to organize a burglary; but the moment was
come and the country prepared, and they had only to apply the fata)

172 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

firebrand to the issue of the inflammable vapour, and the fiery volume
broke out with its broad red blaze, to wrap the land in conflagration
beyond their power to quench or moderate.

For many years before 1634, Ever MacMahon afterwards titular bishop
of Clogher, was, by his own confession to the earl of Strafford, employ-
ed upon the continent, with others of his order and country in solicit-
ing aid for this event. Early in 1641, the period of the parliamentary
outbreaks which we have related, Roger Moore was at work; the
conspiracy between himself, Macguire, Sir Phelim O'Neile, MacMahon,
and others was concerted, late in the autumn of the same year; on the
22d October, 1641, Owen Conolly's information was received.* The next
day had been appointed for the surprise of the castle: and in a few days
more the l'ebels had obtained possession of the principal forts of Ulster.
By whom, and by what means, and under what circumstances these
exploits were performed, our notices of the principal actors describe.

At this time, the entire military force in Ireland consisted of 943
horse and 2297 foot; an effort which had been made by the king to
strengthen this force, had been effectually resisted by the English
parliament. The earl of Ormonde was at Carrick-on-Suir, when he
received the accounts of the first acts of the rebel chiefs. He had a
little before dispatched Sir Patrick Wemyss to the king- on some ap-
plication concerning his palatine rights in Tipperary, which king
James had unjustly seized, and which he was now endeavouring to
recover. Sir Patrick was immediately sent back to him with the
king's commission of lieutenant-general of Ireland. The lords-justices
had also sent dispatches on the 24th October, two days After their first
intelligence, but their letter miscarried, and on the 2d November, they
sent another. But on the arrival of Wemyss with the king's com-
mission, they also made a formal appointment to agree with it, saving
however the authority of the lord-lieutenant.

It would have been fortunate for Ireland in that most critical mo-
ment, if the sole authority had been trusted to the earl of Ormonde ;
and these miserable officials had been wholly set aside. Borlase was
an old soldier, unversed in state affairs. Parsons was worse than incom-
petent. To his want of the statesman-like ability which the juncture
needed, he added a want of political integrity, steadiness, and firm-
ness. He was a lawyer who had worked his way by his expertness
and pliable subserviency; and who was incapable of comprehending any
motive beyond the care of his own interest or safety, and unfit for any
employment beyond the chicanes of official circumvention, by which
life and property were ensnared. He did not clearly perceive the
position of circumstances, and entertained neither adequate views of
what was expedient, nor upright motives of action; and hence his
conduct was inconsistent throughout and wavering. In his moments
of terror, desirous to crush, burn, and execute indiscriminate vengeance;
in the return of his confidence, as anxious to fuster the rebellion of
which he could not calculate the real results or see the progress. He
thus repressed the zeal and exertion of others, and protected while he
exasperated the rebels. To this is to be added, that he was a zealous

* Vol. IT. Life of Roger Moore.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 173

puritan, and was chiefly indebted to the support of the parliament for hia
continuance in power. On this party his expectations were founded,
and it is therefore not a mere conjecture that he was the instrument
of their views. It was their principal object by every means to dis-
tress the king-, and the distui'bance in Ireland was no slight assistance.
Parsons faithfully pursued the turnings of their policy to the utmost
extent of his efforts.

The earl of Ormonde at once urged a decided attack upon the con-
federates: he represented how easy it would be to suppress them before
their people could be armed or fully disciplined. He therefore pro-
posed to march against them with the small body of troops at the time
under his command, with a few of the new levies which had been
raised on the discovery of the danger. To the great surprise of the
earl, the lords-justices refused, on the ground of want of arms for the
troops which were to take the field. The earl knew that there was no
such want, as there was at the time laid up in the castle a store of
arms and ammunition for 10,000 men, besides a fine train of artillery.
He was thus therefore reduced to the mortification of finding his com-
mission nugatory, and seeing the time for action pass, while in Dublin
he was witness to the frivolous proceedings and the absurd and fraudu-
lent councils, in which nothing was sincere but mischievous proceed-
ings against all such as were not of the faction, and had the ill-fortune
to be within the circle of their authority. Carte relates a circumstance
which took place about this period of our narrative. A council was
sitting in the castle on 13th December, at which the earl of Ormonde
was present — when Parsons proposed a court-martial on captain Wing-
field, and was steadily resisted by the earl. Parsons lost his temper,
and in violent language insisted upon it, assuring him that it should
be done for common safety; and that if he did not do it, he should be
responsible for losing the kingdom. The earl of Ormonde, who says
Carte " was never at a loss in his days for an answer equally decent
and appropriate, replied, ' I believe, Sir, you will do as much towards
losing the kingdom as I, and, I am sure, I will do as much as you for
saving it.' "

The English parliament for a little time affected great zeal for the
tranquillization of Ireland: their object was to obtain the entire autho-
rity, and as much as possible to set aside all efforts on the part of the
king. They appointed a committee of the members of both houses,
which sat daily on the affairs of Ireland. Their real object was favoured
by the zealous co-operation of the Irish lords-justices, and the inad-
vertence of the king, who, still anxious to conciliate and to leave no
room for complaint, recognized their authority by his communications:
he was under the delusive notion that their professed object was
genuine, and hoped that something might thus at last be done to
restore the peace of Ireland. With the same view he exerted himself
to obtain some aid in men from the Scottish parliament, which listened
to his urgent applications with cool indifference, while the English
parliament, having secured their object, let the affairs of Ireland take
their course, and pursued the deeper game upon which their leaders
were intent. They asserted the power of the sword and treasury, by
liberal votes of men and money, which they took care not to send:

174 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

large supplies were ordered, but, in the little that was sent, they con-
trived to make the act subsidiary to the purpose of further weakening
the king, by ordering for the Irish service whatever stores lay at his
disposal.

Meanwhile, the rebellion was rapidly spreading in Ireland, and though
much retarded by the Boyles and St Leger in Munster, and by the
influence and activity of Clanricarde in Connaught, every country was
in a state of fear and disturbance. The plunders and massacres of
Sir Phelim O'Neile, and the first insurgent bodies which were mainly
composed of the lowest classes, followed : and many months had not
elapsed till the impolicy and oppression of the lords-justices transferred
a numerous and respectable party of the best Irish nobility and gentry
to the ranks of rebellion. Of these facts, we have already entered
into considerable details. The lords-justices in their first terror were
willing to trust these noblemen with arms ; but when prematurely
elated by the liberal votes of the English parliament, they thought
they might safely treat them with suspicion and insult. The acces-
sion of these persons to the rebellion had the beneficial effect of con-
siderably mitigating its savage character ; and the evil consequence of
giving it for a time concert, military talent, resource, and all the for-
midable attendants of a regular war, conducted by regular means and
skill.

The parliament was called, and allowed to sit for two days in Dub-
lin : the Irish gentry who had assembled there had seen and felt the
horrors of the rebellion, — they would have entered with an exclusive
unity of purpose into the necessary measures for its suppression* The
lords-justices were, with the utmost difficulty, prevailed upon to allow
them a second day's existence, and they could only vote a representa-
tion of the means necessary for the pacification of the country: their
representation was transmitted by the justices to the Eng-lish commit-
tee who suppressed it. They offered to vote a large supply, but, before
this could be done, they were dissolved, and sent away to abide as they
might the storm that raged round their houses. Before their depar-
ture from town, the principal members of both houses met, and agreed
4pon an address to the king, in which they expressed their loyalty,
and recommended that the government of the kingdom should be com-
mitted to the earl of Ormonde — a circumstance soon after productive
of some annoyance to the earl. While he was engaged on his expedi-
tion against the rebels at Naas, and was pursuing- them with such
effect that they were loud in their complaints against his severity,
a person named Wishart, who had been a prisoner in the rebel en-
campment, assured lord Blayney and captain Pei'kins at Chester, that
the earl of Ormonde was in secret correspondence with the rebels.
The secret instructions of the Irish members, sent through Sir James
Dillon to England, and there taken on his person by the parliamentary
agents, gave an unlucky colour to this scandal. The character of the
earl stood too high for these low missiles to have any effect further
than the moment's irritation. The representation was easily shown
to be the act of the parties, without the presence or privity of the earl.
The calumny of Wishart was brought forward by the earl himself, and

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 175

the calumnious charge refuted by the confession of the accuser, who,
having for a while absconded, was discovered and arrested by Sir
Philip Percival, and brought before the lords at Westminster, on
which he denied having ever spoken to the purpose alleged. He
acknowledged that he had said to lord Blaney and others at Chester,
that the rebels had always notice of the earl of Ormonde's and of Sir
C. Coote's military operations : but the rest of the charge, " that his
lordship was the means of advertising the enemy, was the mere inven-
tion of some persons who maligned the earl's honour and his own
reputation."

In the course of 1642, the rebellion became universally diffused;
but with its diffusion, it did not gather strength: the efforts of the
several leaders and parties of which it was composed, were little direct-
ed or invigorated by any pervading unity of aim. The objects of both
leaders were mainly directed by their private ambition — those of the
people terminated in plunder. They were however resisted, with still
more inefficient means, and less consistency of purpose and effort.
The lords -justices wavered between fear and vindictive animosity, and
relaxed their efforts, or adopted measures of severity, according to
the pressure of motives which seldom find their way into the light.
They looked anxiously to their patrons, the puritans of England, for
the aid which was insincerely promised; and, in the mean time, thought
it enough to keep Dublin from the rebels. A suppression of the rebel-
lion by the friends of the king was far from their wish, but they were
not the less alarmed and vindictive when the approach of rebel parties
awakened their own apprehensions and cut off their resources by seizing
upon the neighbouring districts. Thus it was that while they sent out
their troops with orders to ruin, waste, and kill, with indiscriminate
ravage, in the disaffected districts immediately surrounding Dublin,
they restrained the earl of Ormonde from any vigorous and systema-
tic effort to reduce an insurrection ready to fall to pieces of itself, and
only requiring a slight exertion of strength to dispel it. We have
already noticed the earl's expedition to Naas, and the signal success with
which it was attended: we have also had occasion to advert to his short
and successful march to Kilsalaghan, within seven miles of Dublin.
At this time the garrison in Dublin had been reduced to great dis-
tress, as there was a grievous want of means for their support; the
lords-justices, contrary to every precedent of military prudence, had
not only exhausted entirely the surrounding district by exorbitant ex-
action, but by burnings and ravages, ordered on the least provocation.
A small reinforcement was sent over, without money or provision, to
aggravate their distress, and it was more to employ the discontented
troops than to check the operations of a disorderly and marauding
army of 3000 rebels, which were posted at Kilsalaghan, that the earl was
sent out to meet them. He was accompanied by Lambert, Coote, and
other commanders, with 2500 English foot, and 300 horse. The position
of the enemy was strong: a country still intersected with ditches of
unusual depth, breadth, and strength of old fence, attests the descrip-
tion of Carte, of " a castle called Kilsalaghan, a place of very great
strength, in regard of woods, and many high ditches and strong

176 TRANSITION. —POLITICAL.

enclosures and barricadoes there made, and other fastnesses."* The
orders given to the earl were, "not only to kill and destroy the rebels,
their adherents, and relievers, and to burn, waste, consume, and de-
molish all the places, towns, and houses, where they had been relieved
and harboured, and all the corn and hay there, but also to kill and
destroy all the men there inhabiting' able to bear arms." It was for-
tunate that the power of this ignorant administration was not equal to
its will; and that the sword was committed to one who was as just and
merciful in the discharge of his duty as he was prompt and successful.
The earl of Ormonde, with as little injury to the surrounding country
as the duty in which he was engaged permitted, attacked the difficult
and guarded position in which the O'Briens and Mac Thomases had
intrenched themselves, formidable alike in their numbers, position,
and the fierce undisciplined bravery of their men ; and after a rough
and sanguinary contest, drove them from their ditches, and scattered
them in rout and confusion over the country.

The lords-justices were at this period strongly urged by the earl and
others equally zealous for the termination of a state of affairs so dis-
astrous, to permit them to march to the relief of Drogheda, at that
time besieged by the army of Sir Phelim O'Neile. To this they
refused their consent; but still feeling the necessity of sending a\va)(
on some expedition a body of men whom they could not maintain in
Dublin, they ordered an expedition towards the river Boyne, alleging
the probability that a diversion might be thus created, so as to induce
the rebels to raise the siege. On this occasion there seems to have
been a resistance to some parts of their order, to waste, kill, and
burn, on the part of the earl, who with some difficulty extorted per-
mission to use his own more temperate discretioif in the execution of
this order. And shortly after, before the departure of the force under
his command, he received an intimation from the castle, that the lords-
justices having considered the matter, made it their earnest request
that he would " stay at home, and let them send away the force now pre-
pared, under the conduct of Sir Simon Harcourt, wherein they desired
his lordship's approbation."'!' The earl understood the design of this
artful and slighting application, and felt no disposition to suffer his
office to be thus set aside for purposes so opposed to his own political
principles. He was resolved not to let the cause of the king go by
default, and the violence and vindictive temper of Sir W. Parsons
find scope for indiscriminate and mischievous oppression, by a com-
pliant desertion of his post. He firmly refused to let the army which
the king had confided to him, march under any command but his
own.

He accordingly marched on the 5th March, with such troops as
could be prepared in time, and when he had reached a sufficient dis-
tance from town, put the orders of the lords-justices into a course of
moderate execution, according to the more merciful terms, which on
first receiving their orders he had with difficulty extorted. Instead
of spreading indiscriminate destruction and massacre, which if execu-
ted according to the will of the castle would have degraded his name

• Carte. t Ibid.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE.

177

to the level of Sir Phelim O'Neile's; he wasted the villages only which
had been in known concert with the rebels. Even this, it must be
admitted, would according to the principles now recognized be still an
excess, revolting to policy and justice; bat when referred to the war-
fare of the age, to its opinion, practice, and to the then existing state
of the country, it will appear in its own true light, as a mild and in-
dispensable measure of severity. One remark is to be made, that such
is the nature of popular insurrection, in which the struggle on the part
of the insurgents is necessarily carried on by plunders, murders, and
civil crimes, for which their previous habits have prepared them,
rather than by military demonstrations, for which they are undiscip-
lined ; and it too often occurs that the only resource left for the protec-
tion of the social system, requires the adoption of means partaking of
the same lamentable character. The spirit of insurrection rising from
the lowest ranks, spreads out like a malaria upon the face of the
country, felt not seen; tracked by fires and the bloody steps of the
prowling and assassinating marauder; to the charge or battery of
regular war it offers no resistance, and but too often was only to
be met by the dreadful justice, which visited the homes of the
offending peasantry with the retaliation which is not so much to be
excused by the strictness of justice, as by the essential necessity of
a resource, which has the effect of turning the torrent upon its foun-
tain; and carrying the just, but fearful lesson, that the secrecy of the
midnight crimes, or the mistlike gatherings and dispersions of these
freebooting mobs, such as then assumed the much abused pretence of
a national cause, though they save their bodies from the crows on
some inglorious field, cannot fail to involve their homes in the ruin,
which they in their ignorance and wickedness would inflict upon the
unoffending and respectable classes — against whom such hostilities
are ever directed.

The earl was not interrupted by the rebel parties which he had ex-
pected to meet upon his march, but. ere long he received an account that
the rebels had raised the siege of Drogheda, and were then in full
retreat towards Ulster. It was his opinion and that of his officers that
they should be pursued as far as Newry ; and as a large force could be
spared from Drogheda, it appeared to be a favourable occasion to dis-
perse the insurgents by a decided system of operations, with a force
which might not so easily be collected again. The possession of Ulster,
once obtained, would leave the rebellion little spirit or power to pro-
ceed further. The earl wrote to the lords-justices, stating his plan,
and the means of effecting it. They, it is said, were in a "terrible
fume" on the receipt of his letter, and without a moment's delay return-
ed an answer forbidding him to cross the Boyne ; and reiterating their
commands to waste, burn, and destroy, without any distinction of rank
or consideration of merit. In the mean time the earl pursued his
way to Drogheda, where he consulted with lord Moore and Sir H.
Tichburne, who concurred in his opinion and joined in another letter
to the lords-justices. But the plan of enterprise which they had
concerted, was broken by the arrival of the letter from the lords-jus-
tices, already mentioned. The earl's indignation was strongly excited,
he did not think fit to resist the orders of government, but in reply he

n. M Ir.

ITS TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

told them, " that there was usually such a confidence reposed in the
judgment and faithfulness of those that are honoured with the com-
mand of an army, as that it is left to them when and where to prosecute
and fall upon an enemy; that he took this to be due, though he was
content to depart from it, because he would not confidently depend on
his own judgment ; that they might see lord Moore's and Sir H.
Tichburne's judgment, by a letter signed by them and the rest of the
chief officers, except the lord Lambert, and Sir 11. Grenville, who
were left in their quarters for the security thereof, and keeping the
soldiers from disorder, but were as far consenting to the execution of that
design, as himself who proposed it, or any of the rest who approved of,
and signed the letter; that however he was applying himself to perform
their last commands, and for that end had sent forth horse to destroy
the dwellings of traitors for six miles about, and would quarter the
night following at Balruddery, and thence continue his march to Dub-
lin ; want of bread causing him not to make use of the short enlarge-
ment of time g-ranted in their letter of the 9th, which they could have
been furnished with from Drogheda, if they had pursued their design
towards Nevvry." He added, "that with regard to the gentlemen who
came in, his method was to put them in safe keeping, and either to
send them before, or to bring them along with him to Dublin, without
any manner of promise or condition, but that they submit to his
majesty's justice ; nor did he dispute by what power they came in,
leaving it to their lordships to determine that point when they had
them in their hands, and he had given them an account of the manner
of their coming."

The lords-justices were not to be influenced by such considerations
as might appear to the earl of Ormonde of the most imperative moment,
for they were governed by motives wholly different. To maintain
their own authority; keep the rebellion away from the capital; and at
the same time impede all proceedings which would have the effect of
giving ascendancy to the friends or partisans of the royal cause, were
the guiding principles of their whole conduct. They paid no regard
to the strong representations or to the remonstrances of the earl and
his officers, who saw in a strong light the real importance of an occa-
sion, for pursuing and extinguishing the insurrection in its last retreats.
According to the views of Sir W. Parsons, it was of little consequence
what food for future vengeance lay collecting in the north, but it was
in the last degree important, that their own hands should be strength-
ened in Dublin and the surrounding country by the immediate presence
of those troops which the zeal of the earl would have directed to more
important purposes. Thus then, the communications here mentioned
and others which followed, with a laudable pertinacity were set aside,
and the earl was compelled to return. He was only allowed to leave
a small reinforcement of 500 men with lord Moore and Sir H. Tich-
burne. The whole of this tortuous proceeding is the more worthy of
the reader's attention, as it is plainly indicative of the real policy of
the puritans, not only in Ireland but in England. The attention of
historians of our own time has been singularly misdirected by the pro-
pensity of the human mind to look to results, and to form their judg-
ments of men either from the remote consequences of their actions,

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 110

or from principles subsequently developed. We, for our part, cordially
concur in approving the fortunate and providential results of the great
revolution which began in the reign of the unfortunate Charles : but we
attribute all these advantages to the providence which overrules the
wickedness of men to good events. It is not here permitted us to enter
at length into the analysis by which it would be easy to separate the
high professions and the low conduct of a revolution begun, and con-
summated by the perpetration of every political crime ; and to prove
by the plainest tests that the motives of the responsible actors were
not merely different from the sounding eloquence of their pretensions,
but far more reprehensible than the abuses which they overthrew.
There were, no doubt, on either side, a few exalted characters who
adopted with sincerity the purest principles of which their several
positions admitted; but, upon the whole, the contest was a struggle for
unconstitutional power on either side, in which fortunately for England
neither party was successful, and both, as the strife advanced, endeavour-
ed per fas et nefas, to attain the advantage. The conduct of both
may be seen in some respects more clearly by looking to Ireland, the
field in which their policy was pursued with least disguise. If the
parliament of England was then enabled to dazzle the understandings
of their own and after times by impressive commonplaces and specious
complaints, and to veil their most unprincipled course in the fair dis-
guise of public spirit and piety ; it is plainly to be discerned that they
were most recklessly indifferent as to the means. The virtue may be
doubted of those zealots who propose to raise the condition of their coun-
try by murders, massacres, and confiscations, which may effect the pur-
pose pretended, but offer far nearer advantages to the perpetrators. The
politician who is ready to purchase remote and abstract improvement
at the expense of torrents of blood, and by the commission of present
wrongs, must be either a fanatic, or is indifferent to the real benefits
he pretends to seek. There is no real human virtue which would
serve the unborn, at the expense of the living. But the understanding
and passions of England were to be conciliated by the leaders of that
fanatic and intriguing corporation, the regicide house of commons:
in the eye of England they endeavoured with the common discretion
of all who play the game of revolutionary intrigue, to adorn and veil
their purposes with the ordinary cant of civil justice and virtue,
the lofty apothegms which cajole the multitude and spread a lying
sanction over dishonesty, and impart a spurious elevation to baseness:
but in their contempt of Ireland and Irish opinion, the whole truth
of their policy was suffered to appear and to leave a record for the
cool judgment of aftertimes; Ireland was a by-scene on which they
crossed the stage without a mask. To prolong for their purposes a
fearful conflict of crime and every evil passion, which the mind of
Milton coidd combine for his description of the infernal habitations:

" Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell;''

such was their manifest policy. But we are treading upon dangerous
ground; so much has been latterly written, and ably written, to magnify
this party and depress their opponents, that the writer who takes an

1 80 TRANSITION. —POLITICAL.

opposite view, must be prepared to enter upon a full and minute detail
of the entire history of the period.

The lords-justices, at the period of our narrative, appear to have
entertained but one solicitude which is not quite explicable; a vindic-
tive eagerness to visit with the utmost severity in their power the
parties remotely suspected of any connexion with the rebellion, which
they evinced no anxiety to check. To waste, plunder and kill, was
the entire substance of their orders to the earl, whose activity to en-
counter the rebels they impeded. Their vengeance was confined to
the territories of the pale, where it was rather directed against the
inhabitants than the rebels ; and their conduct appeared equally un-
accountable on the score of common prudence, for they were unable to
maintain the troops which they endeavoured to retain about Dublin
in a shameful state of destitution.

On the return of the earl of Ormonde, the rebels at once returned
and took possession of Drogheda, Atherdee, and Dundalk. The
gallant achievements of Moore and Tichburne, by which they were
defeated with comparatively small forces, in several bloody sieges and
encounters, occurred in this interval, and have been already related in
these pages. We have also taken several occasions to relate the im-
politic and unjust treatment received at the same time by lord Dunsany,
and other noblemenof the pale, when they came in on the faith of fche
king's proclamation, to offer their adherence to the government in
Dublin. Their rejection forms a consistent part of the case against that
government, of which we have here but faintly sketched the outline. This
case is strongly aggravated by the iniquitous indictments which at the
same time disgrace the courts, and the still more revolting proceedings
of the castle, where the rack was freely employed, for the purpose of
involving the whole of the Irish nobility and gentry in one sweeping
charge of treason and rebellion. These demonstrations may be suffi-
cient ex abundantid, to fix the real policy of the castle, and to class these
flagitious officials among- the lowest of those enemies of the people of
Ireland, whose aim it has been to promote insurrection for the service
of a small political intrigue. We reserve some special proofs, as we
shall be compelled in a subsequent memoir to revert to this topic.
These circumstances and this grievous state of affairs at length roused
the anxious attention of the king, who very justly considered that his
persona] presence would be the most likely means to offer some decid-
ed check to this tissue of disorder and misconduct. Such a step might
probably have been attended with the best results: his coming over
would at once have broug-ht to his side every particle of right reason,
prudence, or loyalty in the kingdom, and at this period there must
still have been a preponderance in favour of his cause. For the
Roman catholic clergy had not yet fully entered into the contest;
the insurgents had already experienced its danger and folly, and
the numerous and respectable body whose part in it hud been invol-
untary, would all, on their own several grounds, have rallied round the
standard which would have united them in one cause and feeling. The
lords-justices and all their little junto of extortioners, pettifoggers and
executioners, would have been set aside.

But a result so inimical to the views of the great and powerful

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 181

party by which the king- was opposed in England, was not to be quietly
eil'eeted without resistance. On the 8th April, 1642, the king, by
a message to the two houses, communicated his intention, with the
obvious reasons which require no detail. In this message he proposed
to " raise by his commission in the county of Chester a guard for his
own person (when he should come into Ireland,) of two thousand foot,
and two hundred horse, which should be armed at Chester from his
magazine at Hull."* To this the lords-justices remonstrated, on the
grounds of the great power of the rebels, the weakness of the govern-
ment force, the inadequacy of the means for the support of his majes-
ty's army and court. The parliament urged their pretended solicitude
for the personal safety of his majesty: with more sincerity they inti-
mated the encouragement the rebels might derive from the assumption
of his countenance : they contradicted the remonstrance of their own
officers, the lords-justices, by observing that his presence was rendered
unneeesary by the late successes against the rebels, and ended by throw-
ing aside pretexts, and fairly declaring their desire to have the war
left to their own management; and their intention "to govern the
kingdom by the advice of parliament for his majesty and for his pos-
terity." To this the distressing position of the king's affairs compelled
him to submit.

In the mean time, the English parliament concluded a treaty, highly
favourable to the system of policy they were pursuing, with their
own party in Scotland, by which, without suffering the hazard of their
policy, they contrived to arrange with their allies the Scottish com-
missioners in London for the occupation of the north of Ireland by a
body of ten thousand Scottish soldiers. Such was the origin of the
armament under Monroe, who landed at Carrickfergus about the
middle of April, while the communications just adverted to between
the king and parliament were pending. The conduct of Monroe we
have already commented upon: it was in precise accordance with the
policy here attributed to the parliamentary party, and there can be no
ground for hesitation in identifying them. Monroe occupied an in-
fluential and central position in Ulster, but only acted so far as
appeared necessary for the security of a commanding neutrality;
seizing on the king's partisans when they fell into his power; or
attacking the rebels when they appeared to endanger his own security.
Along with his own force, and under his command, were joined such
forces as were subject to the authority of the parliament in that pro-
vince, making altogether an army sufficiently formidable if commanded
to any purpose.

The earl was during these events mainly confined to Dublin a reluc-
tant witness of counsels to which he could little consent, yet had no
power to resist. Under these circumstances his conduct was discreet
and cautious. It is one of the prominent traits indeed of the charac-
ter of this great man, that while his conduct was always firm and
strenuous, his manner and his professions of opinion were marked by
prudent moderation. Where it was vain to resist by actions, and
where nothing- was to be expected from remonstrance, he quietly

* Husband'* Collection, quoted by Carte.

182 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

yielded to circumstances, and contented himself with watching for occa-
sions, which, when they presented themselves, were never suffered to
pass, though often to the sacrifice of the nearest personal considerations.
Of this an instance finds its place here. In the end of March, the
lords-justices resolved on sending out a large detachment for their
favourite purpose of wasting and burning the lands and tenements of
rebels who had left their homes in Kildare. On this expedition the
earl of Ormonde received orders to march. The earl, who was always
averse from such a task, saw nevertheless an occasion for exploits of a
more worthy and honourable kind. He marched out and commenced
a series of able and effective operations, which the lords-justices pre-
sently attempted to interrupt. The earl's countess and his family, with
an hundred protestants who had found refuge at his house in Carrick-
on-Suir, had just arrived safely in Dublin, and the lords-justices sent to
acquaint him of the event, with permission to join them: the earl de-
clined the insidious offer and pursued his march. He advanced to Kil-
cullen, Athy, Stradbally and Maryborough, as he went, detaching parties
to the relief of the principal castles and forts in the rebels' possession,
and securing the country on every side. It was upon this march that
the distinguished conduct of Sir C. Coote, who was detached to the
relief of Birr, occurred* in the woods of Mountrath.

As the earl was on his return to Dublin, after the full execution of
these important services, he was checked near Athy by a strong rebel
force under lord Mountgarret, who had under his command the chief
rebel leaders with 8000 infantry and several troops of horse. The inci-
dent was indeed alarming; for, at this period of the march, the forces of
the earl were exhausted, their horses out of serviceable condition, their
ammunition spent in supplying the garrisons which they had relieved,
and the whole force trifling in numerical comparison with the enemy,
which seemed to menace inevitable destruction.

The earl, attended by Sir T. Lucas, took a party of 200 horse, and
marched out to reconnoitre, after which he called a council, in which
the above circumstances were taken into account, together with the ad-
vantageous position of the enemy. It was agreed on to march towards
Dublin, and not to attack them, unless they should themselves be tempted
to begin, a highly probable event, which would have the effect of alter-
ing their position, and placing them in circumstances more favourable
for an effective assault. In pursuance of this plan, the earl, with 2500
men, pursued the march to Dublin. In front he detached Cornet Pollard
with a party of thirty horse to spread out among the numerous bushes
which then covered the road sides, and facilitated those ambushes
which were the prevalent danger of Irish war. Next followed Sir T.
Lucas with six troops of horse. The baggage of the army rilled the
intervals : after which came the earl himself leading a troop of volun-
teers, among whom were lord Dillon, lord Brabazon, and other dis-
tinguished persons. Four " divisions" of foot came next, not much like
the divisions of modern war, amounting each to three hundred men, and
followed by the artillery: after these four other divisions of foot, and

* Vol. II., Life of Sir C. Coote.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 133

then three troops of horse, headed by Sir C. Willoughby ; the rear was
closed by a few companies of foot led by Sir C. Coote.

They had scarcely gone a mile, when, about three miles off on the
other side of a red bog, the long fdes of glittering pikes appeared in
dense order, passing rapidly by the tower of Killika, with the evident
design of intercepting them on their march. It must, under these
circumstances, have been concluded by the earl, that he was not likely
to pass without a battle. His dispositions were prompt and decisive ;
he caused his pioneers to clear a road on the right, and thus enabled
the foot to disengage themselves from the baggage. He sent out
Cornet Magrath with thirty horse to observe the rebels' march. He
easily inferred that their design was to seize on the pass of Ballysonan,
through which his march lay. Not being encumbered by baggage,
the rebels marched much faster than the English. But they had a
considerable circuit to take, and the earl, anticipating their purpose
from their speed, sent on Lucas to seize the pass, with some troops of
horse — a movement which may, in some degree, have been favoured by
the accident of not having been seen by the rebels, as at this part of
the way a hill intervened between the armies. They were thus obscured
from each other for about two miles.

The detachment under Lucas was successful, and when the rebels
came within view of the pass, they were surprised and mortified to
find it in the possession of their enemies. They halted upon the hill
side. In the mean time the earl came up: he caused the baggage to
be drawn into the rear, and sent to hasten the march of Coote and
Grenville.

The rebels were partly seen, as they stood half-way up the hill and
facing the pass. They were marshalled with considerable skill, and pre-
sented an imposing appearance with their close arrayand their numerous
ensigns waving on the breeze. The earl drew up the four divisions of
foot which were on the ground, in order of battle, within " two musquet
shot" of them, and marked the places into which the remaining divi-
sions were to fall as they came up. These divisions, or rather com-
panies, hurried forward, and as they were small bodies, were quickly
in their places. The earl, without further delay, commanded the
whole line to move forward against the enemy, and they advanced at
a rapid pace up the hill. They had not gone far before they met with
a check, the consequence of which ought to have been fatal, had there
been on the enemy's part the skill or promptitude to take advantage
of such an incident: their forward movement was interrupted by a
hollow which had concealed a hedge until their line was stopped by
it, and they were compelled to take a considerable circuit, after which
they formed again on the other side within musket shot of the rebels,
who should unquestionably have attacked them during this awkward
movement. But the courage of undisciplined soldiers, when not excited
by action, is always apt to be chilled at the appearance of an enemy's
advance. Their leaders could, in all probability, have no authority
sufficient to move a body of men, who, though resolved to fight, were
waiting to be roused by blows. With this infatuation the rebels stood
their ground, and suffered a considerable number of the English to
regain their order of assault, and draw up again just beneath them,

without any interruption. This was indeed in some measure aided
by the skill of the earl, who contrived to amuse their attention by a
continual fire of cannon and musketry, and also, by sending- forward
several small skirmishing- parties; and, while this was going on, Sir
T. Lucas, who occupied the right wing of the English, fortunately dis-
covered a wide gap in the hedge, and passed through with three troops
of horse. Without a second's delay they charged at a round trot into
the left of the rebels, who had manifestly looked on their movements
with a wavering resolution. The moment the English horse reached
them, they gave way without a blow; and as the infantry at the same
time came rushing up the hill, the disorder ran along their line, and
immediately the entire of the left wing, with their officers, were hur-
rying on in a tumultuous and panic-stricken disorder, down towards
the red bog. Their horse stood for a few minutes longer, but were
charged by Sir C. Grenville at the head of his troop, and followed the
fugitives. The right of the Irish were commanded by Mountgarret in
person, and comprised the more select companies under Moore, Byrne,
and other principal officers : these men looked calmly on the rout of
their companions and kept their ground ; on them the hope of the
rebel chiefs had been fixed. The earl of Ormonde seeing this,
advanced in person against them with his volunteers, and three hun-
dred infantry, led by Sir John Sherlock. They maintained their repu-
tation, by standing during the exchange of some vollies, and when the
earl beg-an to advance, they retreated in order before him till they reach-
ed the top of the hill ; there they caught a sight of the bog- and their
flying companions, and breaking into utter confusion, rushed in wild
disorder down the hill. The number of their slain was seven hundred,
among whom were numbered several colonels and other officers. The
earl lost twenty men. A detailed account of the fight was transmitted
by the Irish government to the house of Commons, in which it was
read, and afterwards published by their order. In this account the
earl is mentioned as " ordering- the battle and manner of fight in all
the parts of it, and doing it with very great judgment, laying hold
quickly and seasonably on all opportunities of advantage that could be
gained, and sparing not resolutely to expose his own person to haz-
ard equally with any other commander." The earl, not being allowed
the means to follow up this success, returned immediately after to
Dublin.

On the May following the synod of the Romish clergy was held in
Kilkenny, and those formal acts took place which established the con-
federate assembly, and gave another form to the rebellion. The his-
tory of these events we have introduced in our memoir of the rebel
leader Owen O'Neile, with whose arrival in Ireland this change was
coincident. In that memoir may be found sufficient extracts from
their acts and resolutions, and something of a brief internal view of
their designs and composition. We must here be compelled to view
them occasionally and at a greater distance, receding in the mass of
circumstances.

The lords-justices during this time were hurried on into inconsis-
tencies of conduct, of the motives of which, were it worth a lengthened
investigation for so trifling a purpose, it would be hard to give any

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 185

very precise explanation. But it may be generally observed that their
position was beginning- to be a little more intelligible to themselves, as
their difficulties increased; and that thus while maintaining- the same sys-
tem of policy in subservience to their puritan masters, they were from
time to time alarmed by incidents which made them apprehensive for
themselves and doubtful of the safety of carrying much further the
inconsistent plan of irritating and insulting, without taking any step
for effectual coercion. They had pursued this course from the com-
mencement of the rebellion, scattering vengeance with unsparing and
indiscriminate fury, and driving the peaceful and unwilling into rebel-
lion; while with equal constancy they restrained the hands of the earl
and his officers from meeting the enemy as they should alone have been
met, in the field. Until at last, about the time at which we are arrived, the
resources which might but a few months sooner have terminated the
war, became exhausted, while the army, in want of every necessary, and
unpaid the balance due to them, became insubordinate and refused to
march. The parliament of England saw with indifference a state of things
favourable to their own purposes; the zeal which they affected was but
specious and supplied an ample source for slanders against the king. But
it was otherwise with Parsons — he with his colleague in office, was com-
pelled to endure the inconveniences and dangers of such a course. His
very safety might, depend upon the balance of parties, of whom the ma-
jority of those, even on his own side, disapproved of all his proceedings.
Thus though willing to paralyze the arms of the earl of Ormonde
and of the loyalists, he was anxiously alive to the danger of being left
without an army on which he could reckon.

Thus while the officers immediately under the influence of the
lords-justices, and who acted in the spirit of their instructions were rous-
ing the towns and cities of Connaught into a second outbreak, by the most
wanton and insolent outrages; the lords-justices were petitioning for
aids in men and money to the parliament, and striving to force their
crippled, starved, naked, and mutinous soldiers to march on their
petty expeditions. In this state of things, the rebels were again grow-
ing formidable in the western counties. They had been restrained
by the spirit, activity, and prudence of the earl of Clanricarde, but the
able and judicious combination of force and moderation by which this
nobleman induced the most turbulent spirits to submission, was frus-
trated by the intolerable tyranny of a few parliamentary officers, whose
savage and unprovoked brutalities excited a general alarm and resent-
ment. Clanricarde himself was reproved for accepting of submissions ;
his protection violated, his own people, and even an officer who served
under him seized and imprisoned. Lord Ranelagh, then president of
Connaught, and the earl of Clanricarde remonstrated strongly against
these proceedings, and their representations were strenuously supported
in council by the earl of Ormonde. The consequences were not slow
to appear in a general and rapid growth of dissatisfaction through the
counties of Mayo and Galvvay, while the rebels were completely
masters of the field in Sligo and Roscommon.

In this most alarming condition of affairs, the Irish administration
was roused to some show of opposition, and a considerable effort was
agreed upon in the council. The earl of Ormonde was ordered to

186 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

march with 4500 infantry and 600 horse, for the purpose of re-inforcing
the lord-president. Leaving Dublin for this purpose on June 14th,
on a service which, from the state of the country at the time, was con-
sidered to require his ability and prudence, the earl proceeded on his
march. On the way he took the castle of Knocklinch by storm, and
gave the rout to a strong party of rebels, who posted themselves to
dispute his way in the pass of Ballinacor. Lord Netterville fled at
his approach, leaving his castle which he had fortified and burning his
town. Sir James Dillon, who had besieged Athlone for six months,
retired before him. The lord-president who was shut up there
without the means of defence, was thus set at liberty to meet the earl
and to receive command of the reinforcement intended for him. The
earl of Ormonde inarched back to Dublin.

During his absence, the lords-justices had been proceeding in that
most insidious and pernicious course of measures, by which they were
at the same time working to transfer the king's authority, already re-
duced to a mere form, to their masters the rebel parliament of Eng-
land, and swelling the ranks of their enemies by the most unmeasured
and unprovoked acts of tyranny. Had their power been levelled directly
ag-ainst the hierarchy and priesthood of the church of Rome, it would
be an easy task to vindicate their policy ; however we may feel inclined
on the score of conscience to acquit that able and consistent body
for their steady hostility to the church and government, which they
were bound to regard as heretical, there can be little doubt of the re-
ciprocal obligations of those who were by ties of no less force bound
to the defence of these institutions. But there was neither wisdom,
sound expediency or justice, in the unmerited severities which had the
effect of rousing the pride, resentment, and fear of the Roman catholic
laity; of driving them into the precincts of a powerful and dangerous
hostility, and thenceforth converting religious persuasion into an influ-
ential element of political division. These wretched and incapable tools
of a grasping and usurping fanaticism had not the power to calcu-
late the full consequences of arousing the action of one of an opposite
character, far more longbreathed and vital, because founded upon
principles more removed from impulse and enthusiasm. They could not
observe, (or reason upon the observation,) how little influence their creeds
have upon the main conduct of most men, until they become embodied
in the tangible element of party feeling, when the basest felon who is
ready to bid defiance to every sacred obligation, will fight to the death
for his altar, because it is his party. It is indeed a matter of nicety
to mark the line of moderation and firmness; but we are inclined to
think that the laity of the Roman church would never have been thus
embodied into a religious party, by a line of firm and decisive control,
directed against the then visibly dangerous influences of the Roman
see. They saw the real state of things, and their predilections were
all on the side of the crown and constitution of England. They had
with a wise and politic moderation, been satisfied to see their church
subsist under restraints by connivances which were the mild but effec-
tive outwork against inroads, of which they knew the danger. They were
peaceful, submissive, and always prompt to assert their loyalty. But
by the policy now adopted it was no longer a matter of individual con-

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 187

duct, feeling or opinion ; a line of conduct conveying disqualification
and prescription beyond the letter of the law, spread terror, discontent
and indignation through every rank. The most loyal and influential
persons of most counties were first by an order and then by a bill ex-
cluded from the parliament, which was then called, and by such a com-
prehensive insult and injury sifted into a lesser counterpart of the
English commons. The alarm and offence were, as ever happens with
unpopular measures, still more injurious than the acts; the Roman
catholics were terrified with apprehensions of utter extirpation, and
it is little likely that such fears were allowed to fall unimproved to the
ground. To add to these mischiefs, it was a most flagitious and scan-
dalous part of the system of proceedings at this time adopted, to drive
out of Dublin resident gentry of the Roman catholic persuasion, into
the arms of those among whom they could only find safety by en-
listing in their ranks. That such was the direct design of the lords-
justices is indeed the inference of Carte, and upon no slight grounds;
he reasons from their letters to the parliament of England, and a
variety of circumstances, that being fearful of committing the injustice of
a more direct attack on the liberty and property of the Roman catholics,
they proceeded to effect their purpose by means which were calculated
to work by terror and anger. Among these the principal was an
urgent and oft repeated application for permission to bring the penal
statutes, which were in fact nothing more than a precautionary provis-
ion against dangers always possible, into full and active operation: a
step equally precipitate and cruel: whatever were their intentions, the
purpose of kindling a universal discontent was effected.

Among the most effective of their opponents, the earl of Ormonde
was foremost. His great ability is indeed strongly illustrated by the
mere fact of his being enabled to stand his ground and hold a very
influential authority under a system of usurpation so grasping, lawless
and intriguing. His wisdom, honesty and courage were more than
equal to the little official cunning of Parsons ; but he was unsupported,
and his authority was undermined, by powers against which he was
altogether unprovided with any means of resistance : he was even tied
down by those very laws which his opponents only regarded as instru-
ments to be used and thrown aside. His movements against the rebels
were overruled; his attempts to moderate the councils of government
slighted; his efforts to protect the innocent baffled and counteracted.
His private fortune was chiefly in the hands of the rebels, and his pay
as the king's lieutenant-general was withheld. The difficulties with
which he had to strive were great beyond the possibility of any ordinary
stretch of apprehension. In his command he was thwarted and crossed
by the earl of Eeicester, at this time lord-lieutenant of Ireland, but
living in England, from which he sent his orders at the prescription
of parliament, which had thus the disposal of every thing. And
thus even the army under the earl of Ormonde's nominal command
was officered by his enemies, the creatures and servants of the
parliament, so far as this change could be brought about by filling
the vacancies as they fell. To this injustice the earl was compelled
to submit, for though the inconvenience of which it was productive was
quickly and severely felt, and though on the earl's application, the king-

188 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

gave his express warrant empowering him to appoint his officers; yet
such was the difficulty of the king's position, and the necessity of con-
ciliating his powerful enemies, that it was thought wise to keep this
warrant secret for a time ; a most unwise course and evidently tending
to cause future misunderstandings, if the earl should in any way have
recourse to what would thus seem to be an unwarranted assumption of
authority. And such indeed was the actual consequence when on the
death of Sir C. Coote, the earl appointed lord Dillon to his command.
The earl of Leicester was violently offended ; while the earl of Ormonde
was placed in an embarrassing situation, and both parties were impelled
to maintain their assumed right, by complaints and angry representations.
The earl of Ormonde on this occasion felt himself obliged to assert his
right and support lord Dillon, whose claims on the score of public
service and private friendship were such as to make it both unjust and
embarrassing to insult him by withdrawing his appointment. Another
instance of the same nature occurred on the appointment of Sir Philip
Perceval, and on this occasion the language of the earl of Leicester
seems strangely inconsistent with the fact that he really took no con-
cern in the duties of his office, and that, unless for the purpose of
embarrassing the king and the actual administration of Ireland, he
took no part in the affairs of a country which he did not even think fit to
visit. The assertion that " the lieutenant-general had not given him
so much as the respect due to a private colonel, who in most places
have the naming of their own officers," involves a singular confusion
of ideas, as it precisely describes the injustice which the earl sustained
from his lordship's interference, and has very much the tone of the
wolf accusing the lamb in one of vEsop's fables. Yet this absurd resent-
ment of lord Leicester was genuine ; so great was his wrath on this
occasion, that he would not write to the earl, but sent over to his own
son lord Lisle, a commission for another to fill the command given to
Perceval. The inconvenience of this proceeding was no less apparent
than the injustice was glaring, and Perceval himself had probably some
interest in the castle, for the council interfered in his behalf. The earl
sent over Sir Patrick Wemyss, when the earl of Leicester met him
before the king at York, and had the effrontery to justify his own con-
duct, and to hazard a declaration that no one should be admitted to any
command without the consent of parliament. The king felt himself
compelled to support his own servant, and from the house of Sii
Thomas Leigh, where he was then residing, he wrote to the Irish
lords-justices and council "that it was by his own special command
and authority under his hand, that the earl of Ormonde had, in the
absence of the lord-lieutenant, conferred upon divers persons several
places in the army ; that he had given him this authority to encourage
the soldiers to exert themselves with greater readiness and vigour, in
obeying and executing his commands in the important services wherein
they were employed against the rebels there; for which it was neces-
sary that the commander in chief should have a power to prefer them,
and that it was his will and command, that all such persons as had been
already, or should hereafter be so preferred by the said lieutenant-

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE.

189

general of the army, in the absence of the lord-lieutenant, should he
continued in places and commands."*

The resolution of the king- on this occasion was become necessary.
The commissions of the earl of Ormonde were still subject to be rendered
of little avail if the lord-lieutenant should think proper to visit Ireland
in person. Of these commissions the first was terminable on such an
event, and the second placed his authority entirely under the discre-
tion of the lord-lieutenant; there is also much reason to think that
such is the course which would have been adopted for the mere pur-
pose of setting- aside one whose known principles were not to be
reconciled with the parliamentary policy of keeping Ireland disturbed
to weaken the king; the castle of Dublin was even got ready for the
reception of the earl of Leicester. But this part of the design was
rendered null, by a new commission to the earl of Ormonde appoint-
ing him to hold his command directly from the king and independently
of any other authority; he was also at the same time advanced to
the dignity of marquess. These arrangements had an immediate
and salutary effect, and very much tended to counteract the efforts then
made to engage the army in Ireland to declare for parliament. For this
purpose, among other means of a less ostensible character, a draught of
a declaration to be signed by the officers of the army was prepared, and
submitted to the marquess of Ormonde, who objected to its main aver-
ments ascribing the success of the government in keeping down the
rebellion, to the counsels of the administration, and praying in the
king's name for a compliance with his parliament. The marquess pro-
duced an amended draught, removing these objectionable points, and
changing the last mentioned prayer into a form, "that the parliament
by its timely compliance with the king, would save the nation," the
declaration in consequence fell to the ground.

The military events of this interval, composing chiefly the history

of the year 1642, have been already related. The battle of Liscarrol was
won by the earl of Inchiquin. The various battles and other incidents
which marked this period of the rebellion in the counties of the west and
south, are not such as to need repetition. Owen O'Neile's arrival in
July, and the confederacy in Kilkenny are fully detailed in the memoir
of this leader. We have also had occasion to mention the use which
the king's enemies in England made of these incidents to embarrass him
more deeply and to increase their own strength, by levies of men and
money under the cover of an Irish expedition. As the rupture between
the king and parliament rapidly approached its full maturity, the lords-
justices encroached with more boldness, decision and success, on the
authority of every adherent of the king in Ireland; and the marquess
found himself involved in deeper difficulties. The absolute exhaustion of
all resources of a public or private nature reduced him to the painful
position of looking on during the entire mismanagement of affairs which
were nominally under his charge. His own debts were accumulated
to a great amount, and his property had become unproductive. In
the same year he was attacked by a violent fevc which brought him

• Carte.

100 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

to the brink of the grave, and he had not well recovered when the mar-
chioness and lord Thurles were seized with an illness of the most alarm-
ing nature. During his illness the marquess dictated a letter to Sir Phi-
lip Perceval, addressed to the king, a part of which will give the reader
a lively idea of the condition of things at that time : — He represented
the condition of his own estate, which he said " was torn and rent from
him by the fury of the rebellion, and nothing left to support his wife
and children whilst the rebellion should last, but his majesty's great
goodness, which had never failed him, and which he besought his
majesty to extend towards them, by making some honourable provision
for them, till his own estate might be so settled as thereout they
might receive convenient maintenance. He added, that his estate was
at present in such circumstances, that if his majesty did not in his
abundant goodness think of some course, how his debts (as great part
whereof had been contracted and drawn upon him in his majesty's
service) might be thereafter satisfied, his house and posterity must of
necessity sink under the weight thereof, since they were many and
great, and the interest growing thereupon would in a short time exceed
the debts. As an help towards the payment thereof, or at least as a
means to prevent their increasing, he besought his majesty to grant
him, or (if he died of that sickness) to the lord Thurles, so much of
the tenements and hereditaments in the city and suburbs of Kilkenny,
as should accrue to his majesty by forfeiture, and owed rent or service
to him or his wife; this being conceived to be in the king's free dis-
posal, as not being within the intent of the late act in England,
which seemed to extend only to lands to be admeasured, and not to
houses."*

The lords-justices availed themselves of the illness of the marquess,
to make some very influential alterations in the army. These we must
pass in order to confine this memoir within reasonable limits. At this
time, and during the year 1643, the efforts made to draw the army
into the service of the parliament were unremitting and unconcealed:
but the main sinew of all such efforts was wanting: the parliament had
no desire to waste its resources on Irish ground. The army was found
untractable: the soldiers had nothing more than a penurious subsis-
tence, and the condition of the officers was deplorable indeed: they did
not receive any pay, and were suffering all conceivable privations. An
insidious attempt was made to bribe them with a most fallacious ex-
pectation: a book was made and sent round to the officers for subscrip-
tion, in which they were to declare their free consent to take portions
of the rebels' lands, " when they should be declared to be subdued,']
in lieu of their arrears and pay. To give the more speciousness to
this trick, the official persons of the Irish government subscribed ; and
thus, many officers were drawn in. The officers however who had
subscribed, and many who had not, insisting on certain further security,
soon found reason to suspect the real design, and retracted; nor could
they be satisfied until the book was given up to a committee of their own
body. A remonstrance which the earl of Kildare and other principal
officers in consequence drew up, will give the most authentic view of

* Carte. + Ibid.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 101

the real state of military affairs at that time, and no small insight into
the views of every party. In their preamble they mention their hav-
ing appealed in vain to the parliament for the supply of their wants,
and having failed in every application, they were obliged to appeal to
his sacred majesty, &c, and they then go on to state, " that as well by
the act of parliament in England, as by the covenants with the lord-lieu-
tenant, and by the promises of the lords-justices and council of Ire-
land, they were to have their pay made good to them as well for their
carriages as themselves and their soldiers. That both officers and
soldiers had faithfully answered all services that could be expected from
them, not only in the frequent hazard of their lives, but also in the
constant discharge of their duties. That notwithstanding the starving
condition of the army, all the extremity of strictness in musters was
put upon them, with an oath tendered as well to the soldiers as offi-
cers, which could not but leave upon them a character of distrust of
their integrity in the cause; and yet they had no assured hopes of as-
sistance, but rather their fears increased of having the highest severi-
ties used to them in these checks, which in an army so ill paid and
oppressed with want and misery, was without precedent. That in all
armies military offences, of what nature soever, had been punishable
by martial law only, and no other ; a privilege which they pleaded,
and maintained to be inseparable to their profession. That there
never had since the beginning of the service been any account made
with them, so as if they should miscarry, their heirs were ignorant what
to demand, which not only discouraged the officers, but disabled them to
subsist and continue in the service. That with all humility they craved
leave to present to the memories of the lords-justices and council, what
vast sums of money had been raised and paid in England for the advance-
ment of the service and supply of their wants in Ireland ; a great part
whereof had been otherwise applied, even when their necessities were
most pressing, and the cause most hopeful. That when their expecta-
tions were most set upon the performance of what was justly due to
them, the small pay issued out was given them in a coin, much a
stranger to that wherein the parliament had paid it, and yet continued
to be so, though publicly disallowed by them; by which means the
officers suffered an insupportable loss, whilst others wanted not the
confidence to advance their own fortunes out of their general calami-
ties: a crime they conceived highly censurable; and if in indigent
times so much strictness were needful in the army, they conceived it
as necessary for the state to find out such offenders, and to measure
out a punishment suitable to an offence of so high an abuse. That
their arrears, which were great, might be duly answered them in money,
and not in subscriptions, which they conceived to be an hard condition
for them to venture their lives on: and likewise humbly offered it to
consideration, whether they might not be thought to deserve rewards
in land without other price, as well as in former rebellions in that
kingdom, others had done. For these reasons, in acquittal of them-
selves to God, the king, the cause, the country, and the state of Ire-
land, they had thus represented their condition, craving what their
rights and necessities required for them, that they might be duly
answered what was, or should be due to them in their employ-

ment according' to their capitulation, their services being justly
esteemed. Musters without oath, unless duly paid; checks according
to the articles of war; their offences limited to the proper judicatory,
their own oppressors found out, and punished exemplarily, with satis-
faction to those they had wronged; that their pay might be converted
only to the use the act of parliament had prescribed ; their accompts
speedily made up according to their several musters ; their arrears
secured, and due provision to be made for the subsistence of officers
and soldiers. All this they desired might be answered otherwise than
by verbal expressions, and that their lordships would speedily make it
appear that there was a real care taken for their subsistence ; or other-
wise, by receiving so small hope of further assistance from the par-
liament (of England) their lordships would leave them to themselves,
to take such course as should best suit to the glory of God, the honour
of the king, and their own urgent necessities."

This remonstrance was entrusted to the care of the marquess, who
communicated it to the council. The lords-justices were anxious to
appease the army, and equally unwilling to forward their petition to the
king. They suppressed the paper, but made an attempt, at the same
time ineffective and oppressive, to levy a small sum for the relief of
the officers. The marquess when he ascertained their design of with-
holding the petition, himself enclosed it to the king.

At this time an anxious effort was made by the nobles of the rebel
party, and seconded as anxiously by the king's friends, to effect a paci-
fication. The lords-justices opposed the proceedings adopted for this
purpose by every method in their power: among other courses adopted
for this end, none was so likely to be successful as the promotion of
active hostilities: a course indeed otherwise rendered necessary by the
active operations of an enemy which moved unresisted in every direction.
The presence also of an army which they found no means to pay, and
could ill restrain, was not very convenient, and it was on every ground
desirable to send them out of town on some expedition where they might
be more useful and less troublesome. With this view, the army was
ordered out to take possession of Koss and Wexford, under the com-
mand of lord Lisle; this expedition had already been strongly urged
by the marquess, but deferred by the lords-justices for the expected
arrival of the lord-lieutenant. The marquess now came forward
and declared his intention to command the troops in person, and the
declaration was a shock to the council. They had subscribed to faci-
litate their object, but on this disappointment, they were strongly
urged by the parliament committee, who governed all their conduct,
and in fact, presided over the Irish council, to withhold the money.
With this intention the council passed a vote, declaring that " the
intended expedition should be left wholly to the lieutenant-general and
the council of war, notwithstanding1 anv former debate or resolution
taken by the board concerning the same."*

On March 2d, 1648, the marquess left town with 2500 foot, and
500 horse. After taking Castle Martin, Kildare and other castles on

* Caite.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 193

the way, they proceeded by easy marches toward Ross, where ho
arrived on the 12th, and erected his battery before the walls.

The garrison was inconsiderable, but the rebel army lay in great
force in the vicinity, and during the night 1500 men were added to
their strength.

The marquess anxiously awaited the vessel which the council had
agreed to send after him with bread and ammunition, but of this the
motives of their party policy served to retard the execution. Under
various pretences it was deferred until the wind became unfavourable,
and the marquess, after seeing his troops suffer severely, was compel-
led to send for supplies to Duncannon fort, from which the governor,
lord Esmond, forwarded to him all the bread and ammunition he could
spare: with these he also sent his own bark, and another vessel mounting
a small gun, which for a time gave much trouble to the garrison, but a
battery was planted against it, and as the wind and tide were unfa-
vourable to escape, the crews were compelled to leave their vessels and
make the best of their way to the marquess.

Unable to wait any longer for supplies of which he must have had
slight expectation, the marquess opened his fire, and a practicable breach
was soon effected. He commanded an assault; but the garrison were
in fact as strong as their assailants, and these were retarded by wool-
packs and other obstacles under the cover of which they were repulsed
with some loss. The position of the marquess was become perplexing
enough, his whole stock of food amounted to four biscuits a man, and
at this moment general Preston hung upon his rear with 6000 foot,
and 650 horse. The marquess called a council, and after considering
all circumstances, resolved to face Preston, and take the alternative of
a battle, or a retreat towards Dublin. On his advance, Preston retired
towards a strong line of wood and bog, and was joined by the body of
men which he had thrown into Ross. The marquess took his ground
for the night on a large heath within two 'miles of Ross, and within
sight of the rebel quarters. On the next morning early, he observed
that they were in motion, and conjecturing from their movements that
they intended an attack, he rode up to Sir H. Willoughby the serjeant-
major-general, and gave orders for the disposition of his little army.
1 he soldiers of the marquess were drawn up in battle array on the
slope of a rising ground, with the six pieces of artillery between the
divisions. Between the two armies there lay a low swell of the ground
just sufficient to conceal the infantry from each other. To the top of
this both generals sent out small parties, which returned without com-
ing to blows. After closely inspecting the ground, the marquess gave
orders to Willoughby to advance the men to the top of the hill, as
they would thereby gain the advantage of the sun and wind. Wil-
loughby obeyed his orders, but a mistake was committed by the lieu-
tenant of the ordnance who neglected to bring- forward the cruns.
While this error was repaired, the enemy's horse collected for an
attack in a broad lane between two high ditches: two regiments were
advanced to oppose them, and drawn up against the entrance of the
lane, and as this for a short time had the expected effect of checking
their intended movement, the two culverins were in the interval
brought up and planted to advantage, so as to bear into the mouth of
ii. ■ k' Ir.

19± TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

the lane: when this was completed, the two regiments were commanded
to open to the right and left, very much in the style of Milton's
rebel host, who probably took a hint from the battle of Ross, which
was fought perhaps before the composition of his poem : the reader
may recollect the manoeuvre in Paradise lost,* which we should here
quote, but that thirty lines of verse would be an unsuitable interruption
in the middle of a fight. As the English infantry unfolded their front
" to right and left," the culverins discharged their contents upon the
rebel cavalry with such effect, that eighty men were killed at one fire :
they were thrown into a panic, and with cries of dismay and terror,
rushed out of the lane into the next field. The cannon of the marquess
were that day worked by Sir T. Esmond's seamen, who maintained their
fire with unusual skill and effect, by which means the disorder of the
enemy's cavalry was kept up; the marquess sent orders to his cavalrv,
commanded by lord Lucas and lord Lisle, to charge them. This
charge was rendered in some degree difficult by the hot cannonade
which the English sailors kept up, and the entrance into the park was
obstructed by a formidable ditch. The gallant officers nevertheless
promptly obeyed their lieutenant-general's command, and rode up to
the ditch in a style not unworthy of Melton, where the ditches are not
often as formidable, and the steeds much better. Lucas had the mis-
fortune to be thrown with his horse, and before he could rise, was
severely wounded in the head. Lisle's horse was so severely wounded
that he was forced to mount another: a confused and desultory skirmish
which was rather individual than collective, ensued: and thus the two
bodies continued for a long time mixed together, and fighting man to
man. During this time the marquess was in great uneasiness about his
horse, as the confusion of the combatants was so great. He now decided
to cross the ditch and to attack the main body, which as yet stood inert
under the fire of the battery which had played on their ranks from
the commencement of the cavalry's charge. He caused a strong party
of the musqueteers to fire a few vollies upon them while he led his
men across the ditch; and when thev had come within a convenient
distance, the word was passed to charge, and setting up a loud cheer, the
English rushed forward against the enemy. The enemy did not await
the collision; but turning about, lied in great confusion over the bog.
The flight continued until thev reached a hill on the other side where
they had quartered the night previous. Here they attempted a stand,
but on four regiments moving forward to attack them, they turned
again and continued their flight until they had the Bannow between
them and danger. Preston then ordered the bridge to be broken behind
them: his loss amounted to five hundred men, with all his ammunition
and baggage : among the slain were many persons of rank. The mar-
quess lost twenty men. His victory was complete, but the conduct of
his cavalry gave rise to mysterious doubts and suspicions: as the
result of their charge was both unusual and difficult to be accounted
for on any supposition, but that they were privately, under some influ-
ence, engaged to counteract the operations of the marquess. They
were in point of number nearly equal to the rebels, who, in addition

* Pari. list; Lost, book VI. 558,

J

THE BUTLERS— J AMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 195

to the state of confusion and flight in which they were assailed, were
extremely inferior in all respects, both in men, horses, arms and dis-
cipline; nor could it on any reasonable ground, drawn from previous ex-
perience, be imagined that they could continue for a few minutes to ex-
change blows with their opponents, without being routed with much
loss: such had, till then, been the uniform result, and mostly under
circumstances less favourable to the English. On the flight of Pres-
ton's foot, his cavalry were allowed to march off without further moles-
tation, to the great vexation of the marquess, who clearly saw that
some sinister influence had accompanied him to the field, and paralyzed
one of his most effective arms, so as very much to impair the value of his
victory. Preston had indeed committed an oversight, in a very high degree
advantageous to the earl's subsequent movements: as it was imperatively
necessary that he should lead back his men, destitute as he was of all means
of subsisting them or keeping the field. He must otherwise speedily have
become involved in difficulties, which would place him at the mercy of
a force like Preston's, overwhelming in numbers, and amply provided
with every munition of war. Had Owen O'Neile been in the place of
Preston, he would undoubtedly have pursued a far different course; in-
stead of the unpardonable mistake of a battle, he would have watched
with Fabian caution the movements of an exhausted enemy who had
neither food nor ammunition for more than the effort of an hour: he
would have hung upon his retreat, which could not have been postponed
another day, and pursued his daily diminishing numbers and exhausted
force into the defiles and dangerous passes of sixty miles of most difficult
march ; and before half of its difficulties were overcome, he would have
burst upon his exhausted and broken troops at some unfavourable
moment, and with twenty men to one, have rendered even a struggle
hopeless. Instead of this, Preston, having rashly ventured the fight,
with the precipitance of fear, overlooked the real condition of the con-
querors, and to prevent a pursuit which was not to be expected, by
breaking down the bridge over the Bannow he cut off his only prospect
of success, and secured the retreat of the marquess. By this ill-coii-
ceived step of his enemy, the marquess was left unmolested by a foe,
to pursue his difficult and distressing march over a road nearly impervi-
ous to his artillery and baggage; and which presented difficulties for-
midable to his officers and men. In the mean time, the distress of the
lords-justices was fast increasing: they were become so destitute of all
means of support for the small garrison retained in Dublin, that at
last they were compelled to quarter them upon the inhabitants who
were themselves in a condition not much better. The suffering in
consequence rose to a considerable height, and the fear much greater;
for while the citizens were deserting their homes, under the appre-
hension of approaching destitution, it was known that the marquess,
with his famishing army, were on their approach to the city. To
ward off this severe emergency, some means were taken by the govern-
ment, but ere they could in any way be effective, the marquess arrived.
The effect was deplorable; to have the slightest hope of maintaining-
the army thus unseasonably increased, they were not only forced to
expel all strangers, amounting to many thousand English ; but were
compelled to make a second inroad upon the merchants' stores, which

19G

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

deprived them of all their remaining commodities, and was insufficient
to remedy the evil.

We shall not here need to dwell on the treaties and commissions
which commenced ahout this time between the king's commissioners
and the confederates. We have already in several memoirs, had occa-
sion to notice them as fully as their intrinsic importance demands.
The reader is probably aware of the general view which we have taken
of the conduct and designs of the two main parties thus opposed to
each other. The popular party and their opponents are at this time
little to be recognized in their real and peculiar characters, from the
overwhelming agency of a party and of a policy, wholly distinct from
either: and of which it was the present object to keep up the contention
between them. This fact is here the more essential to our purpose to no-
tice : because in strongly animadverting on the line of conduct observed
by this middle party, the parliamentary rebels of England, it has been
difficult to preserve with any tolerable distinctness the just line
between the actual parties of Irish growth; a difficulty much increased
by the complication which existed in the composition of the popu-
lar party. There were the mob, under the control of their spiritual
guides, who acted solely with the view of obtaining the ascendancy
of their church : they were mainly headed by a class of adventurers,
who while they were subservient to those, had purposes entirely peculiar
to themselves. Another great party who acted with these, but under
the influence of far other motives, were the Roman catholic nobility
and gentry, who were driven to arms by the wrongs and insults they
had received from a government, equally cruel, unjust, and insolent to
all, and acting under the authority of the rebel parliament of England.
It was unfortunate, and led to much added bitterness, and has left pre-
judices not yet abated, that this confusion of objects and interests was
not at the time sufficiently understood or allowed for. The Roman
catholic lords, by confusing their own cause with that of the clerg'y,
rendered redress difficult, and gave a tone of injustice and extravagance
to their complaints by demands which were embodied in most of their
state papers, and which we believe to have been very far from their
real objects: and thus it occurred that their real, just and constitu-
tional complaints, were not very unreasonably classed with the perni-
cious and exorbitant demands with which they were thus embodied.
Far worse at the time than these, was the animosity pervading the
minds of the mass on either side, always incapable of just distinctions,
and never correctly informed: to all of these, one impression distorted
by a million fears and rumours, refracted into every monstrous un-
couth and unholy shape through the universal atmosphere of terror
that had fallen upon the country, presented itself to the apprehension:
it was the combined effect of the worst crimes committed by fanatics,
plunderers, or oppressors, in each of the many parties and political sects
which on either side were confused together. The most moderate of
the rebels were involved in the massacres committed by the banditti ot
O'Neile and his plundering confraternity: while the most humane, loyal
and temperate of the protestants were not free from the odium of tiie
parliamentary puritans, who had an equal disregard for both. '1 o
these reflections we shall here only add. that having attentively per-

THE CUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 307

used the documents of a public nature in which the representations of
each of these parties is set forth, we should be reluctant wholly to
subscribe to any one of them. But generally speaking, the real objects
of the aristocracy on both sides only required to be sifted from de-
mands that were not sincere, and reproaches which were not just, to
bring them to a perfect agreement.

It is to the immortal honour of the marquess of Ormonde, to have
stood clear from the crimes and prejudices of both parties, and to have
been trusted and honoured bv the wise and ffood of all ; an honour
more conspicuous, because of all the g-reat public men of his day, it
can be claimed by himself and the earl of Clanricarde alone. While
he beat the rebels in the field of battle and resisted the lords-jus-
tices in council, he was at the same time anxiously watching for
every occasion to bring about that peace which was so desirable to
all, on the most just and equitable basis. The confederates for-
warded their remonstrance, already quoted in this volume, to the
king, who sent to the marquess, observing strongly the impossibility
of complying with some of the petitions it contained. He was equally
unfavourable to a letter which he received from the lords-justices
and council. The terms proposed by either party were indeed suffi-
ciently extreme, to leave room for ample modifications between ; if
tbe Roman catholic lords would alter the entire existing constitution
of Irish laws and government in favour of their own party, the lords-
justices were as importunate in their remonstrances against any peace
with the rebels, unless on the terms of a universal forfeiture of the
estates of all who had taken arms, without any distinction of persons
or circumstances. The marquess of Ormonde, disapproving of the
misrepresentations by which they were endeavouring to mislead, and
at the same time harass and distress the king, sent over private messen-
gers to rectify these mischievous and delusory statements. This ex-
pedient had been indeed prevented for some time, as the lords-justices in
their displeasure at the result of a former communication to the king
by means of which the marquess was vested with new powers, endeav-
oured to remove the future recurrence of such an inconvenience, by an
order in council, that "the lieutenant-general of the army should
licence no commander, officer, or soldier of the army to depart out of
the kingdom upon any pretence whatever, without the allowance of
the board first had obtained, &c."* The order had been easily passed
in council, where for many months there was no attendance of any but
the most obsequious of the lords-justices' own creatures, as the intrusion
of the committee of the English parliament who were allowed to sit in
the council and govern all its proceedings, had the effect of disgusting
and deterring every respectable person of any authority or independence.
Hearing this, the king sent over an express prohibition against this ir-
regularity, so inconsistent with his own authority where it was as yet
least impaired. The Irish council which had not yet arrived at the
point of direct defiance of the royal authority, was compelled to yield in
a case where it had acted with manifest illegality; and the parliamen-
tary officers were excluded. Of this the immediate consequence was the

* C;ute.

IDS TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

return of the seceding members, who being most of them favourable to
the king, the order above cited was revoked, and the marquess was
thus enabled to communicate with the king. He was joined by several
members of the council in a letter, stating the distress of the army, the
great difficulties to which they had been reduced by the want of money,
the miserable exhaustion of the kingdom, and the dangerous conse-
quences to be speedily apprehended in case they should be left in the
same condition any longer, and praying for his majesty's directions
how they were to act under the circumstances.* This letter was sent
by Sir P. Wemyss. In the mean time the marquess had much to do to
prevent all his officers from throwing up their commissions and return-
ing to England. They had long borne the absolute privations to which
they were subjected by the want of their pay, as evils not to be remedied :
but their resentment was excited by petty attempts to defraud them in
the small instalments, which the government were seldom able to pay.
They sent in a petition to the Irish parliament, full of strong and true
complaints, both of the misapplication of the remittances made for their
support, and of the imposition effected by means of a light coin; and
desiring their lordships "to call Mr vice-treasurer, his ministers, and
all others employed about the receipts and disbursements aforesaid, to a
present strict account of all moneys sent out of England and issued
here since October 23d, 1641, and also to take notice of other of his
majesty's rights misapplied to private uses; and out of the estates of
the persons offending-, to enforce a present satisfaction, that may in
some measure relieve the distressed army which now groans under the
burden of these wrongs, and extreme wants ; and further to take into
your considerations the necessities of the said officers and soldiers,
which if there may not be subsistence for them in this kingdom, your
lordships cannot but know, will consequently enforce them to quit the
same, and abandon this service."f

The lords-justices met the embarrassment which the discussion of
this petition would have occasioned, by the prorogation of parliament,
just as it was entering upon the consideration of the subject. The
parliament desired to have the prorogation suspended, which was re-
fused; they next desired to be informed of the reasons for the proro-
gation ; to this an answer was also refused. The lords therefore ordered
a letter to be written bv the lord-chancellor to be laid before the kin"-,
and directed the draught of this to be first submitted to the marquess
of Ormonde, the lord Roscommon, and lord Lambart, in order that
they might see that a full statement was made of their endeavours to
discuss the petition, their reasons, their sense of the state of the army
and the necessity of some immediate interposition for their relief. But
in reality the king had no means to remedy the evil, and the English par-
liament no will. The lords-justices who, with all their acquiescence in
the policy of the English commons, had begun to fear the full extent
to which that policy would be carried, or the full effects which might
recoil on their own government, were at this moment in the deepest per-
plexity. They had paralyzed the military operations of the marquess,
until it was too late; they had roused all parties into a union to resist

* Carl,. L. p. -114. f Carte.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 19!)

tliem. They now saw themselves in the midst of a disturbed and
irritated country, without men, money or food. In this condition they,
too, made the most earnest appeals to the parliament in letters, which
gave the most appalling and heart-rending pictures of the ruinous
condition of Dublin, and of the abject condition of helplessness to
which they were reduced. They also vindicated their own conduct, by
one of those partial statements of facts so familiar to all who know the
common arts of faction : omitting their own previous errors, which were
the entire cause of all the existing evils, they exhibited the true facts of
their unavailing and not very laudable efforts to retard the ruin they
had blindly drawn down, by turning it upon the merchants and citizens
of Dublin, whom, in good set terms they acknowledge themselves to
have plundered freely and unreservedly, for the support of the govern-
ment. The parliament of England which had gone on amusing- them,
and urging them on their purblind courses with high promises which
were never kept, now saw that their purpose was gained for the present,
and turned a deaf ear to all their complaints. The application here
mentioned was the last official act of Parsons. The king who had
repeatedly been irritated by his conduct and felt all through that he was
betraying him to his implacable and bitter enemies, was at last made
aware of acts of more unequivocal treachery, of which he had hitherto
been kept in ignorance. He had not been acquainted with the fact that
Sir W. Parsons, in all his official acts had looked solely to the authority of
the parliament, with which he kept up a direct, constant and confidential
communication, while his communications with his majesty were but
formal and for the most part partial and illusory; being in fact framed
on the suggestion of the commons, and to forward their aims. On re-
ceiving certain intimations of this fact, the king without further delay,
ordered a commission to be made out appointing Sir H. Tichburne in
his place.

It was under the general state of affairs here related, that the king
began very clearly to see that it was full time to put an end to a war
which could not be maintained, and which must terminate in the ruin of
every party. He therefore sent to the marquess of Ormonde a commis-
sion to conclude a cessation with the rebels. The preamble of this com-
mission is a correct statement of the question, as between himself and
his enemies. " Since his two houses of parliament (to whose care at
their instance he had left it to provide for the support of the army in
Ireland, and the relief of his good subjects there,) had so long failed
his expectation, whereby his said army and subjects were reduced to
great extremities ; he had thought good for their preservation, to re-
sume the care of them himself; and that he might the better under-
stand as well the state of that kingdom as the cause of the insurrection,
he had thought fit to command and authorise the marquess of Ormonde
lieutenant-general of his army there, with all secrecy and convenient
expedition, to treat with his subjects in arms, and agree with them for
a present cessation of arms for one year, in as beneficial a manner as
his wisdom and good affection for his majesty should conceive to be
most for his honour and service; and as through the want of a full
information of the true state of the army and condition of the country,
he could not himself fix a judgment in the case, so as to be able to

200

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

prescribe the particulars thereof, he referred the same entirely to the
lieutenant-general, promising to ratify whatsoever he upon such treaty
should conclude and subscribe with his own hand in that business."*

This step was indeed anxiously looked for by all whose passions were
not strongly engaged in this ruinous conflict. The provinces were
harassed by desultory but destructive war between leaders who on
either side maintained themselves by resources destructive to the
country. The new government endeavoured in vain to restore the
trade which the old one had destroyed. A proclamation informed the
trading part of the community that they might expect to be paid for
their goods ; but there were little goods to be had from a wasted and
impoverished land, and on these an excise amounting to half the value,
amounted to a species of partnership not much to the encouragement
of trade.

We have already had occasionf to give some account of the nego-
tiations for the cessation, and to advert as fully as we consider desir-
able, to the conduct of the several parties while it was carried on with
much interruption and many difficulties. It may be enough here sum-
marily to mention, that it was mainly rendered difficult by the unwil-
lingness of two great sections of the rebel party, who threw every
obstacle in the way of any conclusion between the government and the
rebels, short of the entire concession of their own several objects; these
were the ecclesiastical party, who were under the control of the Roman
cabinet, and of whom the majority either from inclination or compul-
sion entered into its policy; and the old Irish chiefs, of whom Owen
O'Neile was now the leader, whose object was the recovery of certain
supposed rights, and the resumption of their ancient state and authority.
In consequence of these divisions, it so happened that while one party
was engaged in treaty, another was actively pursuing hostilities, and
many of the principal battles which we have had to notice, took place
while the confederates were actually engaged in negotiation with the
marquess, and other noblemen who co-operated with him for the pur-
pose of restoring peace to the country. Much delay also arose from
the effect of the successes of those who were continuing the war, which
caused the confederates to raise their demands and assume a tone of inso-
lence not to be submitted to in prudence. The marquess in his turn
was reluctant to allow the enemy to gain advantages unresisted, and
was occasionally compelled to defer the treaty for the purpose of de-
feating manoeuvres, which the rebels were assiduous in practising under
every pretence. The difficulties which arose in the council were not
less than those among the confederacy; entirely overlooking the utter
prostration of their own military force and the increased armies of the
rebels, and mainly engaged in a miserable attempt to induce the
English commons, by the most absurd misrepresentation?, to some ac-
tive effort to carry on the war, they wasted the time in opposition, and
were met on the part of the marquess by demands for means to carry
on the war: he asked for soldiers and money, and silenced their reasons
without conquering their obstinacy. And thus the first commission for
a treaty, sent over in April, came to nothing.

* Carte.

f Life of Owen O'Neile.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 201

On August 31st, another commission was sent over; and the com-
missioners on the part of the confederates met the marquess with more
moderate demands, insomuch that the only obstacle which prevented
their full agreement arose from the difficulty of settling the quarters
of the parties. During the discussion of this point, the prospect of any
amicable conclusion was much endangered by the ignorant interfer-
ence of the council which opposed the temporary cessation of hostilities.
Notwithstanding this interruption, the parties came to an agreement
by which the king was to receive £30,000 from the confederates, in
money and beeves, to be paid in several instalments during that year.
The treaty was signed September 15th, and publicly proclaimed
through the kingdom.

The cessation now concluded was in a high degree unacceptable to
the popular portion of the confederacy. It was still more so to the
rebel parliament of England; a fact deserving of notice for the side
light which it throws upon this period of English history, which is
also a standing theme of party misrepresentation. The general view
upon which the foreg'oing narrative has been mainly framed, as well
as our particular sentiments as to the conduct and policy of this flagi-
tious parliament, derive much valuable confirmation from an able and
authoritative document from the hand of Sir Philip Perceval, who was
himself appointed under the authority of that very parliament by lord
Leicester, commissary-general of Ireland; and who had therefore the
more intimate means of knowing the most minute particulars, both of
the condition of the Irish army, with its means of subsistence and oper-
ative efficiency, and of the actual conduct of the parliament compared
with their pretensions to the conduct of Irish affairs. This body was
as violent in its denunciations of any overture towards peace, as it was
remiss in support of the war: its members were content that every pro-
cess of extirpation should destroy every sect and party, popular, aris-
tocratic, priestly, royal and parliamentarian, provided only that a peace
favourable to the king might be obstructed. And as they were as
harsh, summary and absolute in vindicating their authority as they
were prompt to assume the language of constitutional principle, when
complaints were to be maintained against the prerogative of the crown,
it became necessary for one of their own officers, a man of virtue and
ability, to defend the conduct of himself and his colleagues in the Irish
parliamentary government, for their assent to the cessation. In Sir
Philip Perceval's vindication of this measure, a plain irrefragable and
uncontradicted statement of the main facts is to be found, which we
have noticed directly, or taken into account in our general commentary.
Sir Philip commenced by adverting to the charges against him as a con-
senting party to the cessation ; he regretted " that it was necessary for
the vindication of the truth of his injured reputation, ingenuously to
offer to their honours' consideration, that nothing but want and neces-
sity, not feigned, but imminent, real, and extreme necessity, and the
exceedingly great discontents of the army, to the apparent danger of the
sudden and inevitable ruin and destruction of the remnant of our nation
and religion, there did or could compel his consent to the cessation."
He then begins at March 23d, 1641, and by a historical series of pri-
vate statements down to the end of the treaty of the cessation, he makes

202 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

good these facts, viz: that the parliament voted large supplies for the
conduct of the war in Ireland; that the sums thus raised did not come
to Ireland; that the Irish army was without clothes, shoes and food,
in a condition of the lowest exhaustion, ill health and discontent, arising
from continued and unmitigated hardships and privation, and only pre-
served in a languishing and wretched existence by occasional acts cf
robbery and piracy on the authority of government. Of this Perceval's
various statements would occupy ten pages of this volume; we extract
a few facts which lie within the least compass. He first mentions two
large votes of £10,000 and £5000, one of which ended in a miserable
remittance of £500 and the second of £200. He mentions also that
the Dublin merchants were stripped of their property by the consent
of the parliamentary committee, who he observes, " knew the extrem-
ity which had obliged the state with their privity to seize by force the
goods of merchants, without paying for them." It is also made plain
from several statements of the relief actually sent, that the larger pro-
portion was supplied by Sir P. Perceval and other officers engaged in
the commissariat department themselves, by incurring large debts on
the faith of parliamentary promises never redeemed. On the condition of
the army he mentions, that the " state" had for the six months previous
to the cessation, frequently represented to the parliament of England
through its committee, the " frequent mutinies of the army for want of
pay, the impossibility of keeping up discipline; that divers captains
being commanded to march with their soldiers, declared their disabil-
ity to march, and that their soldiers would not move without money,
frhoes and stockings, for want of which many had marched barefooted,
had bled much on the road, had been forced to be carried in cars ; and
others through unwholesome food, having no money to buy better, had
become diseased, and died ; yet no competent supplies came, and verv
few answers were returned."*

On the condition of the rebel armies he mentions, "the Irish all
this while subsisted very well, carrying their cattle (especially their
milch cows) with their armies for their relief into the field, and there
at harvest cutting down the corn, burning (as their manner is), grind-
ing, baking, and eating it in one day."

He also mentions that the confederates had three armies on foot, "well
furnished with every thing" even in Leinster, while at the same time,
the want in Dublin was so great, " that upon several searches made in
Dublin, and the suburbs thereof, from house to house, by warrants from
the state, as well by the church-wardens as by particular persons in-
trusted for that purpose, there could not be found fourteen days' pro-
vision for the inhabitants and the soldiers; a circumstance of great
weight, considering that both the parliament ships, and the Irish
privateers interrupted all commerce and importation to that port and
these quarters."

Concerning the efforts made by the marquess of Ormonde and other
loyalists, to remedy this grievous state of things he states, " that
the marquess of Ormonde would have prosecuted the war, if £10,000,
half in money and half in victual, could have been raised to have fur-

* Sir

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OE ORMONDE. 203

nished the officers and soldiers, and enabled them to march; and his
lordship, the lords-justices, and most (if not all) of the council had
entered into various bonds, some jointly, some severally, for provisions
spent by the army, whilst any could be had on their security ; and he
heard the said marquess at several times offer in public to divers
merchants and others that had formerly furnished the army, to engage
liimself for provisions to subsist it, as far as his engagement would be
taken, or as his estate would bear, if provisions could be had thereupon,
but little or nothing could be procured on any of their securities be-
fore the treaty of cessation began. The state likewise had been ne-
cessitated to seize by force goods of considerable value on ship board
after they were put on board by license, all duties and customs paid,
and the ships ready to sail, and to take many other hard ways to gain
relief for the subsistence of the army."

We have selected a few from a multitude of parallel statements,
which together represent all the effects of a continued state of civil war,
kept up without any efficient means to give a decided turn to the aims
of either party, but operating by a slow process of waste and exhaus-
tion to the ruin of the kingdom. On the side of the rebels an
armed mob, only qualified for plunder and living on plunder; on the
side of government, a starved, unarmed and unpaid army, barely kept
alive in a state of utter incapacity for any effort, by the most ruinous
and unwarrantable stretches of power. And it is no less evident that
this condition of affairs in Ireland was neither more nor less than
according to the well concerted policy of the leaders of the parliamen-
tary confederacy in England, who saw the efficiency of the Irish re-
bellion for their main designs, to depress the king and to work out
a rebellion in England. It exhausted the resources both of the king
and of his party, and brought large supplies into the funds of his ene-
mies, who contrived to raise exorbitant sums from both countries on
the strength of their assumed authority to conduct the Irish war.
From Ireland alone they contrived to draw nearly £300,000 by for-
feitures, during the time that the Irish armies were in a state of
destitution clamouring for their pay; and while they sent £500 to
Ireland, they were enabled to send £100,000 to the Scots to engage
them to send an army into England, and £60,000 to the Scottish
army in Ulster, whose inactivity plainly makes it appear for what
purpose they were maintained.*

After the cessation, the king, who began more and more to perceive
the full aim of his enemies, was anxious to strengthen himself against
them. He sent over to the marquess of Ormonde, desiring such assist-
ance as could be spared. And the question was raised in the king's
council as to the expediency of the marquess himself coming over to
take the command. But his presence in Ireland was felt indispensable ;
there he was the main spring of the royal cause, and the only earthly
safeguard of the peaceful of any party: as moderate and equitable as
he was effective and firm, he was looked to with respect and confi-
dence even by his enemies. The cessation was but a suspension of
hostilities between armed soldiers, who watched for advantages and

« C-.:rte.

204 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

were ready to fight for their quarters. Jt was also considered how
much it might be injurious to the king, by affording matter for re-
proach to his enemies, if the absence of the marquess should occasion
any calamitous result to those whom his presence alone protected. A
small body of Irish troops was accordingly sent over under different
leaders, and it was resolved by the king to nominate the marquess to
the entire management of the perplexed affairs of Ireland, with the
appointment of lord-lieutenant.

In this appointment there was nothing desirable to the marquess;
it was the adoption of a lost cause, glory and gain were no longer to
be thought of; but on the other hand certain loss, fatigue, reproach,
perplexity, and, without the intervention of singular good fortune, ulti-
mate ruin. The marquess met the occasion with the heroism of his
noble spirit, and expressed his devoted willingness to the undertaking.
There was a difficulty in the appointment, as the earl of Leicester was
actually lord-lieutenant, and it was judged fit to have his resignation.
He was applied to and gave a reluctant consent, and sent his com-
mission to the king, who had the marquess' commission drawn up in
the same form, and with the same powers; he was after many delays
sworn lord-lieutenant, 21st January, 1644.

During this year the chief object of the king's friends was the levy
of forces to assist him against his parliamentary enemies in England.
Of the main circumstances the reader may find a sufficient account in
our notice of the earl of Antrim, who was now the second time engaged
to use his influence for the purpose, and succeeded in obtaining a small
force for his majesty. Among the incidents connected with these arma-
ments,we shall here only stop to mention one characteristic incident. One
of the ships which the marquess of Ormonde had hired for the trans-
port of 150 men under Sir Anthony Willoughby, was taken at sea by
captain Swanly a parliamentary officer, who ordered 70 of the soldiers
to be thrown into the sea, under the pretence that they were Irish.*
The parliamentary ships which were not to be had while they pretend-
ed to support the king, were now in full force, employed in blockading
the harbour of Dublin, and in intercepting all communication between
the king and his party in that country.

During the cessation it was the main object of the marquess to
preserve its continuance; his chief difficulty arose from the fears of
the rebel confederacy, that their party might become weakened by
the division consequent upon the advantageous offers or overtures of
the government. This year was spent in negotiations, in which to
those who look back with a full knowledge of after events it is likely
to appear that every party committed grievous and fatal mistakes. The
popular party insisted upon such terms from the king, as were not
consistent with the interests of the protestant inhabitants of Ireland;
they were rejected with a decision not compatible with the position of
the king's affairs at the time. The marquess was desirous to be re-
leased from his embarrassing post, from the consideration that the
compliances which might become essential under the circumstances
were such as it would not be consistent with his honour to advise: aa

* Ciirle.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 205

he had not only numerous relations and friends among- the Irish party,
but as his large estates were entirely in their hands, his conduct could
not fail to be attributed to motives of an interested nature. It is also
evident that he saw the growing failure of the royal cause, and the vast
weight of censure which was likely to be directed against the authors
of the required concessions, which would seem to have amounted to the
entire surrender of the protestant, and consequently of the English
interest. Such a step he could not justifiably have advised under any
circumstances ; and he was quite aware of the wretched and paltry
tissue of intrigues which were then beginning to be resorted to, for
the purpose of conciliating the Confederacy either by a base deception
or a sacrifice as unworthy. The marquess has been censured by some
very latitudinarian writers for this reluctance; and views have been
imputed which could not possibly have occurred to the marquess,
whom no turn of affairs could reimburse for the sacrifices of property
he had made through the entire rebellion. But such writersjudging-
simply from their party views, have in fact been incapable of appre-
ciating the main principles of the marquess' conduct, a determination
to support the king and not to compromise the protestants ; a compro-
mise which was then anxiously weighed in the scale of party, and
not to be made without that of honour, conscience and of all the
permanent interests of Ireland. It was during these negotiations that
the wretched and contemptible farce of Glamorgan's treaty, so morti-
fying to the marquess and ultimately so prejudicial to the king took
place. We sball mention it here as briefly as we can.

In the desperation of his affairs the unfortunate Charles was driven
to the necessity of endeavouring to make peace on any terms with the
confederates. They, speculating on his necessities, and urged on by
the violent temper and extreme views of the nuncio Rinuncini, (already
explained in this volume,) raised their demands to a height which
appeared altogether inconsistent with the civil interests of the nation.
To the concessions thus demanded it was impossible that the marquess
uould be a party, and the king found it necessary to employ a more
pliant agent for the execution of a desperate and unprincipled design.
The earl of Glamorgan was sent over to treat with the confederates,
publicly on terms fitted for the public ear, and privately on terms more
adapted to their own desires and demands. The private treaty was
concluded; but Rinuncini, who felt little respect for the opinion of the
protestant public, and overrated the real power of the rebels, was im-
portunate for the publication of the treaty; in this desire he was
joined by his own party, and the report of such a treaty having been
concluded between the king and the rebels soon got abroad, and did
infinite mischief to the royal cause in England. The rumour was con-
firmed by an accident; Sir C. Coote, the younger, having routed the
titular archbishop of Tuam before the walls of Sligo, found a copy of
the treaty in his baggage and transmitted it to the English parliament,
which rejoicing in a document so likely to cast disgrace on the king,
published and circulated it through the kingdom.

The king was thus placed in a position of extreme embarrassment,
and compelled to soften the matter by an explanation which no one
received as accurately true, and which involved the admission that de-

206 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

ception had been intended in some part of the transaction ; as he
denied having- given a power to Glamorgan to conclude the treaty,
while he admitted that having sent over the earl for the purpose of
raising- forces, he thought it necessary to fortify him with such authority
as might obtain him credit among the Irish. He wrote an apology to
the marquess of Ormonde, assuring him that " he never intended Gla-
morgan should treat of any thing without his approbation, much less
His knowledge," a letter which, it should be observed, exonerates the
marquess from all privity to such a transaction. The earl of Gla-
morgan was accused of high treason, arrested and imprisoned for ex-
ceeding his orders, and a scene of shuffling followed which is not worth
detailing here, but which shows the nature of the whole proceeding
to be precisely that which we have described it, a scene of unworthy
collusion from beginning to end. The earl of Glamorgan made such
declarations as were adapted to save the credit of the king, who con-
soled his imprisonment with private letters of friendly approbation, and
stood between him and all consequences; the marquess though offended
by the whole conduct of both parties, yet when the mischief was
done endeavoured to lessen the pernicious consequences, by favour-
ing the efforts of the king to secure his weak minister from further
exposure.

The parliamentary party from this began to gain ground in both
countries. The confederates became divided, and the army hitherto
in the main obedient to the king's officers, began to be tampered with by
parliamentary agents and to be divided into factions. The solemn
league and covenant was taken by Monroe and his troops, as well as
by several bodies of the English forces in Ulster. And Monroe began
to make more determined and earnest efforts to possess himself of the
principal garrisons of Ulster. A long and intermitting negotiation
of which the details are monotonous and of no historical importance,
continued to be carried on between the king and the Irish confederates.
As the difficulties of the royal cause increased, the confederates raised
their demands, and the king- showed signs of a disposition to give way,
but was mainly impeded by the firmness of the marquess, who although
he had freely sacrificed his fortune and faced all dangers and labours
in the royal cause, never once made the slightest compromise of prin-
ciple. Under these painful conditions he struggled on during a dis-
tressing and laborious period of three years, without means, or any
steady or efficient aid from others, pressed by a hundred daily necessities
and cruel embarrassments, zealous to save the king, rescue his own
property, and restore peace, but resolute in rejecting the compromise
which these interests appeared to demand:* and displaying with a
striking reality not often met in the page of history, the example of
a great and good man struggling with adversity.

In this desperate condition of the protestant party, the nuncio Rinun-
cini^who had confined those members of the confederate assembly who
had consented to the peace, called an assembly in Kilkenny of persons
more favourable to his own views, — and while Owen O'Neile held the

* On the justice and wisdom of the concessions demanded, there may be room for
difference of opinion. We only insist upon motives.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 207

greater part of Leinster with an army of 8000 men, introduced the
question of the proposed peace, together with the conditions on which
it might be concluded. The greater part of the members were nom-
inated by the clergy, and were completely at their disposal. Soon
after they met, a paper was presented from a synod of the clergy at the
same time convened by Rinuncini, containing the outline of their pro-
ject for the settlement of the country. They proposed the establish-
ment of the papal church through every part of the country, with the
entire and absolute possession of all churches, benefices, and ecclesias-
tical offices and dignities; the repeal of every statute by which any
ecclesiastical right was vested in the crown, &c, &c, amounting to the
full and entire jurisdiction of all ecclesiastical concerns in Ireland. The
nuncio proposed in addition, that the monasteries should be restored
their lands, a proposal which the assembly rejected, as most of the
members were themselves largely possessed of such lands. With a few
slight modifications these proposals were passed into a vote by the
clergy. The commissioners who had assented to the late peace, were
severely handled, and an attempt was made to pass a vote of censure
upon them; this question prolonged the debate, but the peace was itself
condemned and rejected by an overwhelming majority.*

These incidents are here selected from the events of two years, in
which amongst the confusion of numerous parties and the absence of all
preponderating control, no progress of historical interest can be traced,
further than the desolating effect consequent upon a state of disorganiza-
tion so long protracted, f heir present importance to the subject of this
narration is however not inconsiderable. The treaty of the marquess
of Ormonde by which he delivered up the country to the parliament,
has been noticed by a writer of opposite politics, as affording proof of
the insincerity of his loyalty and the selfishness of the entire of his
policy. The charge is indeed too absurd to be formally combated.
If ever an instance could be found of the entire abandonment of all
self-interest, it would be the marquess; but in this special case, the
accusation has altogether proceeded from the singular oversight of not
considering the whole principles of the conduct of the marquess, but
in their place imputing to him the views of the writer himself, who
seems to have imagined that the proposed establishment of a papal
ascendancy in Ireland must have been as indifferent to the leader of
the protestant party in Ireland as it appeared to the historian, who
was either a Roman catholic himself, or as is more probable, indifferent
to all creeds. Much historical injustice would be avoided by the
adoption of an obvious but constantly neglected rule; that of weighing-
the motives of eminent public men according to the principles of their
own party and profession. So long as the act is consistent with the
uniform and professed principle, it is unfair, and a fallacy to ascribe
other motives different from those professed ; these may, it is granted,
be in themselves unjustifiable, but this is not the question here. The
marquess had indeed no choice, and acted from an absolute necessity;
but waiving this consideration it would be sufficient to reply to the dis-

* Tliese particulars are stated in <;reat detail by Carte upon the authority of the
auncio's memoirs.

208

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

ingenuous insinuations of the historians of the popular party, that he
acted in precise and rig-id conformity with the conduct of his entire
political life. Loyal to the king-, he was more loyal to the protes-
tant party in Ireland, and when their affairs became desperate by
the want of all protection, and the complete ascendancy of the nuncio'a
party; when the peace was rejected and a war of extermination de-
clared, on the very principle of exacting the entire demolition of all
the stays and defences of his own church ; the marquess knew his
duty, and chose his part. The one last hope for Ireland, (accord-
ing to the views of the marquess,) lay in the timely interposition of
the parliament of England. It did not require all the sagacity of the
marquess to perceive that any other earthly prospect for his party
of deliverance from entire and rapid ruin was but nominal. The
king could do nothing to save himself — the protestant power in Ire-
land had dilapidated in a wasting war of six long years; and all who
were not engaged in the business of murder and plunder were the helpless
victims of the folly, cupidity and fanaticism of those who were. The
nuncio and his party possessed the kingdom, they not only rejected the
peace but made a most unwarrantable use of a treaty to attempt the
seizure of the marquess himself, and were actually engaged in discus-
sing the terms on which the kingdom was to be delivered into the hands
of the pope. Connected with this consideration is a very strong
argument stated by the marquess himself, in a memorial presented
shortly after to the king at Hampton court; in this document, of which
the great length prevents us from inserting it entire, the marquess
says " a third reason was, upon consideration of the interest of your
majesty's crown; wherein it appeared in some clearness to us, that if
the places we held for your majestie were put into the hands of the
two houses of parliament, they would revert to your majestie, when
either by treaty or otherwise, you would recover your rights in Eng-
land; and that in all probability without expense of treasure or blood.
But if they were given, or lost to the confederates, it was to us very
evident, that they would never be recovered to us by treaty, your
majestie's known pious resolution, and their exorbitant expectations
in point of religion considered ; nor by conquest, but after a long and
changeable war, wherein, how far they might be assisted by any foreign
prince that would believe his affairs advanced or secured, by keeping
your majestie busied at home, fell likewise into consideration." The
marquess convened the protestant party and proposed to them, that he
should act in conformity with the directions given by the king, in
contemplation of such an occasion, " that if it were possible for the
marquess to keep Dublin, and the other garrisons under the same
entire obedience to his majesty, they were then in, it would be accep-
table to his majesty; but if there were or should be a necessity of
giving them up to any other power, he should rather put them into the
hands of the English than of the Irish."* Such was now under the
circumstances here mentioned, the decision of the marquess; it was ap-
proved by his entire party and received the full sanction of the par-
liament of Ireland, called together soon after. Their declaration is
indeed too express and solemn to be omitted here; it is as follows: —

* Borlase. Cox.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DURE OF ORMONDE. 209

" We the lords and commons assembled in parliament in our whole
body do present ourselves before your lordship, acknowledging' with
great sense and feeling- your lordship's singular goodness to us the
protestant party, and those who have faithfully and constantly adhered
unto them, who have been preserved to this day (under God) by your
excellency's providence and pious care, which hath not been done with-
out a vast expense out of your own estate, as also the hazarding of
your person in great and dangerous difficulties. And when your lord-
ship found yourself (with the strength remaining with you) to be too
weak to resist an insolent, (and upon all advantages) a perfidious and
bloody enemy, rather than we should perish, you have in your care
transferred us to their hands that are both able and willing to pre-
serve us; and that, not by a bare casting us off, but complying- so far
with us, that you have not denied our desires of hostages, and amongst
them one of your most dear sons. All which being such a free earnest
of your excellency's love to our religion, nation, and both our houses,
do incite us here to come unto you, with hearts filled with your love,
and tong-ues declaring how much we are obliged unto your excellency,
professing our resolutions are with all real service (to the utmost of
our power) to manifest the sincerity of this our acknowledgment and
affections to you; and to perpetuate to posterity the memory of your
excellency's merits, and our thankfulness, we have appointed this in-
strument to be entered in both houses, and under the hands of both
speakers to be presented to your lordship.

Ri Bolton, Chanc.
Maurice Eustace, Speaker"

17° die Martii, 1646, Intrant per
Vall Savage, Dep. CI. Pari.

Int. 17° Martii, 1646, per

Phlll Forneley, CI. Dam. Com.

The answer of the marquess to this address is remarkable for its
dignified simplicity, and will be read by every unprejudiced reader as
the just exposition of his sentiments.

" My Lords and Gentlemen, — What you have now read and delivered
hath much surprised me, and contains matter of higher obligation laid
upon me by you than thus suddenly to be answered; yet I may not
suffer you to depart hence without saying somewhat unto you; and
first I assure you, that this acknowledgment of yours is unto me a
jewel of very great value, which I shall lay up amongst my choicest
treasures, it being not only a full confutation of those calumnies that
nave been cast upon my actions during the time that I have had the
honour to serve his majesty here, but likewise an antidote against the
virulency and poison of those tongues and pens, that I am well assured,
will busily set on work to traduce and blast the integrity of my present
proceedings for your preservation. And now, my lords and gentlemen,
since this may perhaps be the last time that I shall have the honour
to speak to you from this place; and since, that next to the words of
a dying man (those of one ready to banish himself from his country
for the good of it) challenge credit, give me leave before God ami

ii. O Ir.

you, here to protest, that in all the time I have had the honour to
serve the king my master, I never received any commands from him
hut such as speak him a wise, pious, protestant prince; zealous of the
religion he professeth, the welfare of his subjects, and industrious to
promote and settle peace and tranquillity in all his kingdoms; and I
shall beseech you to look no otherwise upon me, than upon a ready in-
strument set on to work by the king's wisdom and goodness for vour
preservation ; wherein if I have discharged myself to his approbation
and yours, it will be the greatest satisfaction and comfort I shall take
with me, wherever it shall please God to direct my steps ; and now
that I may dismiss you, I beseech God long, long to preserve my
gracious master, and to restore peace and rest to this afflicted church
and kingdom."

The inhabitants of Dublin were zealous for the conclusion of a
treaty which was to place them under competent protection, and
had, upon the first arrival of the commissioners in the former year,
considerably embarrassed the marquess by their urgency. They were
on this second treaty no less decided in the expression of their wishes.
The marquess wrote therefore in the beginning of the year, (Feb. 6th,
1647,) to the parliamentary commissioners, offering to deliver up his
command and garrisons to such persons as the parliament should ap-
point to receive them, upon the conditions which they had lately
offered." The negotiation seems to have in some degree influenced
the confederates at Kilkenny, who, to prevent it from being concluded,
held out offers of an accommodation, but proposed terms utterly incon-
sistent with their ever being entertained by the marquess: they proposed
a junction of force, retaining to themselves the full command of their
own armies, independent of the lord-lieutenant : they insisted on full
possession of the church and ecclesiastical jurisdiction in the protestant
quarters, together with possession of the towns and garrisons. These
conditions were not however put into writing, and were rejected at once
by the marquess. Soon after they made a second proposal, founded
on the same basis, offering to assist the marquess against the parlia-
ment, but adding, that they should insist on the propositions lately voted
in the assembly: this letter was only signed by four bishops, and four
other members of the nuncio's party. The treaty with the parliament
was, with some delays and difficulties unnecessary to mention, carried
to its conclusion.

Having discharged his duty to Ireland, by a treaty of which the
principal condition was, that the protestants were to be protected in
their estates and persons, as well as all recusants who had not assisted
the rebels: the next consideration was the discharge of his duty to the
king: with this view the marquess added some further conditions, by
which he was to be empowered to take with him such leaders as should
be willing to follow his fortunes, with 5000 foot and 500 horse. This
was agreed to by the commissioners, and also by the lords, but after-
wards rejected by a vote of the commons. On this condition the mar-
quess had offered to relinquish £10,000 of the sum laid out by him
for the garrisons, and for which he had demanded a partial reimburse-
ment. This latter demand of the marquess has also been seized as a

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 211

matter of scandal by the party historians; and of all the base and un-
conscionable sacrifices of truth and common sense for the purpose of
historical misrepresentation we can recollect, it is the most impudent.
It was but a few weeks before the conclusion of the treaty with the
parliamentary commissioners, that the marquess, who had spent every
penny he could obtain in the maintenance of the garrison, was com-
pelled to borrow so small a sum as sixty pounds to relieve the
garrison at Wicklow. When he had first proposed to treat with the
parliament, at the time when O'Neile and Preston had marched to
Lucan on their way to Dublin, with 14,000 men, he borrowed large
sums, with a promise of payment before he should quit the govern-
ment: this engagement was public, the accounts were audited by Sir
James Ware, they were also examined by public commissioners, who
certified that the sums disbursed amounted to £13,877 13s. 4d. The
same council represented to the marquess, that he was entitled to de-
mand the much larger sums which he had previously spent on the war,
together with the pay and salary due to his appointments, of which he
Lad never received any thing; and some compensation for the large
arrears of rent due on his estate, so long in the hands of the rebels.
The marquess however disclaimed all merely personal considerations,
and only insisted on the sums necessary for the liquidation of the pub-
lic debt.

The marquess was deceived by the promises of parliament ; he
was compelled to leave the marchioness in Dublin, to receive and pay
a sum of £3000, which was to have been paid on the spot, and for which
his creditors were most clamorous. The commissioners put him off with
unaccepted bills, telling him that he should not be the sufferer by their
not being accepted, and asking him to trust to the faith and honour
of parliament. But a considerable sum of this money was never paid.
The whole treaty was marked by the hard overreaching and peremptory
temper of the parliamentary party, and brought to a conclusion on the
28th September, 1647, when the marquess embarked on board of a
frigate, commanded by captain Matthew Wood, and landed in Bristol
a few days after.

From this he went to the king, who was then a prisoner at Hampton
court, and in a strong and clear memorial stated the entire history of
the previous events which had decided his own conduct: a statement
yet affording the most authentic history of the facts to which it refers,
and confirmed by all authoritative statements of the opposite party
which were given by contemporary writers. After remaining for
some months in England, the activity of the marquess in his continued
efforts to repair the fallen fortunes of the king, and to reorganize his
broken and scattered party, made him the subject of considerable sus-
picion and watchfulness to the parliament leaders. His creditors were
also beginning to be more urgent, and, it was evident that this circum-
stance could be used by his political enemies to put him into confine-
ment in the most ready and unquestionable way. He soon received
information that a warrant had been sent out for his arrest : on
receiving this intelligence he crossed the country to Hastings, and
sailed for France. Having landed at Dieppe, he proceeded to Paris,
and there he waited upon queen Henrietta. Among other slight

212 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

occurrences at this time, it is mentioned that when he visited the
countess of Glamorgan, to whom he had formerly been a suitor before
his marriage with his cousin, she resenting his supposed interference
to prevent the earl of Glamorgan from being made governor of Ire-
land, met him with an air of offended dignity, and when, according to
the fashion of the time, the marquess approached to kiss her cheek,
she turned haughtily away, on which he made a respectful bow and
said calmly — " really madam, this would have troubled me eighteen
years ago."

The more moderate of the confederates were alarmed by the depar-
ture of the marquess from Ireland: they now for the first time began
to see the tremendous oversight they had committed in their opposi-
tion to the royal party, and in their perfidious and blind hostility to his
lieutenant. Among the various motives by which they had been actu-
ated, ambition, party feeling, and religious zeal, they had omitted to
perceive that their interests were inextricably bound up in those of
the king : that there was nothing between them and the irresistible
power and the relentless will of the English parliament but the resis-
tance which it had experienced or had reason to apprehend from the
loyalists. These being subdued, and the parliamentary authority settled
into some form of civil organization, it was to be apprehended upon
no distant or difficult grounds, that a well-appointed and overpowering
force would be directed to crush together the wretched hordes of
marauders, — by the courtesy of history alone called armies, —
which infested the country, and cowed each other. The first report
of the treaty of the marquess communicated an electric sense of this
to the better portion of the confederates, and many were the efforts
made to detain him when it was too late. Sir R. Talbot, Beling, and
Preston, endeavoured by an application through lord Digby, to pre-
vail upon him to remain a little longer, but the time was then past.
The mere report of the parliamentary troops being admitted into
Dublin was enough to disperse the congregated banners of Preston
and O'Neile at Lucan.

On the departure of the marquess the condition of anarchy to which
the country was reduced continued to increase. The parliamentary
leaders had not yet matured their plans at home, and had no leisure to
turn their attention upon the affairs of Ireland: it seemed enough to
occupy the government, and preserve matters from taking any turn
hostile to their interests. The small means which they applied for
tli is purpose were sufficient; without allaying the desperate confusion
of the country, they infused additional division, and by various successes
weakened the authority of some, and gained the alliance of others.
Under these circumstances, we do not feel it necessary to go into
any detail of the events which occurred in the short interval of this
first absence of the marquess: the main particulars belong to other
memoirs in which they have already met sufficient notice. Jones held
Dublin for the parliament: his coarse and stern manners offended the
citizens, who compared his reserve with the accessible and universal
courtesy of the marquess, of whom it was commonly remarked, that
it was more easy for the humblest citizen to reach him in his closet,
than to approach Jones in the public street. O'Neile terrified all

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 213

parties in turn, and was ready to unite his arms with the highest bidder.
The earl of Inchiquin, only zealous for the restoration of peace, at
first adopted the obvious and probable means for this end by joining
the parliamentary party; and in this, the motives by which he was
actuated were identical with those of the marquess of Ormonde, who
would not lower himself so far as to join the avowed enemies of the
king; Preston was for peace, and considered the intervention of the
marquess as the only expedient consistent with the safety of the Roman
catholic nobility and gentry.

Among these parties, all moving independently of each other, and
monthly changing their purposes and parties, a few more influential
changes may be enumerated. Lord Inchiquin, disappointed by the
slackness of the parliament in the conduct of the war, specially irri-
tated by their breach of engagements with himself, and perhaps, (in
common with many) mistaking the increasing weakness of the confed-
eracy for the revival of the king's party, deserted them and returned
to this party: while Owen O'Neile joined the parliamentary governor,
and Monroe, still trying to preserve an independent posture, and leav-
ing his intentions doubtful, was seized, and sent prisoner to London.

The desire for peace was at the same time universal to all who enter-
tained no special expectation dependent upon the continuance of war.
The confederates, with the exception of those who were immediately con-
nected with the nuncio, were anxious to renew a treaty which all viewed
as dependent upon the return of the marquess. His return was eagerly
pressed by the earl of Inchiquin, who still continued to preserve his
own force unbroken, and had, by the exertion of great address and
courage, brought over his officers to the adoption of the same party
with himself. A council, favourable to the same views, was held in
Kilkenny, but menaced with a siege by O'Neile. O'Neile was com-
pelled to retire by the combined forces of Inchiquin and Preston, of
whom the first in vain tried to force him to a battle. An assembly
was convened, and received with satisfaction the intelligence conveyed
by Muskerry and Browne, that the marquess of Ormonde would soon
follow them from France. The same assembly declared O'Neile a
traitor, and renewed their appeal to Rome against the excommunica-
tion of Rinuncini.

The language of this paper strongly shows the unpopularity of the
nuncio, as it declares, "the manifold oppressions, transcendent crimes,
and capital offences, which he had continually been for three years
past, acting within the kingdom to the unspeakable detriment of their
religion, the ruin of the nation, and the dishonour of the see of Rome,"
&c*

The marquess having been strongly urged by the confederate leaders,
and also by the king, queen, and prince, once more to hazard himself
for the only chance which then remained for the king's life and restora-
tion ; began by a vain endeavour to obtain from the French court such
means as he was informed by Inchiquin would be necessary for the
purpose of putting his troops in motion; but after great exertions, he
could only bring together a sum equal to about £6000. He obtained

*

Carte, II. pp. 43.

214 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

a power from the queen and prince to conclude a peace, and a letter
from the king, declaring himself a prisoner, and desiring the marquess
to disregard any public commands from himself, until he should let
him know that he was free from restraint.

Before the marquess set out on a journey so fraught with troubles
and dangers, he turned out of his way to Caen to visit the marchioness,
who was then settled there with his children. Taking leave of these,
he pursued his way to Havre, from whence he was to embark; but on
the way his life was exposed to great and imminent danger. Having
reached the ferry opposite Havre, he agreed for his passage with the
master of a small half-decker, laden with cyder. It was dark when
with his servant he embarked, and they had made but little way when
the wind became rough and adverse, and they were in consequence all
night on the water. Towards morning, the captain applied to the
marquess to learn the hour;— his watch was fast, or his impatience at
the delay, caused him to tell the captain an hour too late: the captain
thus misled, missed his reckoning, and ran upon the flats; the vessel
was split, and the marquess with some difficulty escaped in the cock-
boat. He was compelled to delay at Havre for a long time to await
his despatches from St Germains, which put him to a ruinous expense,
and this was aggravated by another incident. The prince of Orange
had sent a forty-six gun vessel to convey him to Ireland, but the cap-
tain refused to take on board the cannon and other military stores
which he had purchased to a large amount, so that he was under the
necessity of hiring another vessel for his stores and train of attendants.
When he landed in Cork he had only thirty pistoles remaining of the
sum he had received in France.

The marquess landed at Cork, 29th September 1648, and on the 6th
October published a declaration of which it is necessary to extract a
few lines as it both attests the consistency of the marquess, and accounts
for the dislike of a section of the confederacy whose hesitation to treat
with the marquess has been attributed by adverse writers to reasons
less creditable to this nobleman. In his declaration the marquess
mentions, that " he deems it his duty to use his endeavours to recover
his majesty's rights, and observes that the protestant army in Munster,
having manifested their integrity to the king's person and rights, and
disclaimed all obedience to the enemies of both, was esteemed by the
king as an eminent and seasonable expression of their loyalty. In tes-
timony of such his sentiments, his majesty had commanded him to
repair to that province to discharge the duty of his place: that he had
resolved publicly to evince not only his approbation of that army's
proceedings, but his own resolution in the same particulars : that he
would employ his utmost endeavours for settling the protestant reli-
gion— for defending the king in his prerogative — for maintaining the
privileges and freedom of parliament — and the liberty of his subjects.
He declares he will, at the hazard of his life, oppose all rebels who
shall refuse obedience to his majesty, on the terms he shall require it,
and endeavour the suppression of the independents. That to prevent
all distrust from former differences, he declares himself fully autho-
rized to assure them that no distinction shall be made on any such
account, but that all who engaged in the cause should be treated with

equal regard and favour: that the past should be forgot, and he would
use his utmost diligence to provide for their subsistence, and do them
all the good offices in his power, requiring no other return than their
perseverance."

The events of the treaty which followed are to be briefly noticed,
as though concluded by the marquess it was utterly without result.
The ecclesiastical party earnestly protested against any thing being
concluded before the return of their emissaries from Rome. The
other party went with zeal into the negotiation, and invited the mar-
quess to his own castle of Kilkenny, in order that the proceedings
might be conducted with less interruption. The marquess assented,
and was received with every public demonstration of respect and zeal.
He was however for a time called away by a mutiny in the army of
the earl of Inchiquin, which was discontented by want of pay, and had
besides a great leaning to the parliamentary party. The mutiny was
suppressed with considerable exertion — the soldiers were appeased —
some of the officers were imprisoned — others cashiered — and the rest
submitted. Reports arrived that a fleet from the prince was soon to
arrive with money and provisions, and the prince himself with the
duke of York, immediately to follow ; and the army was thus encou-
raged and appeased. The marquess returned and found matters still
more ripe for a treaty, which the condition of the king now made an
affair of desperate necessity. While the marquess was endeavouring
to abate the violence of his opponents, and to bring down their extra-
vagant demands, intelligence arrived which had the effect of a thunder-
stroke upon the mind of every party in that negotiation. A copy of
the remonstrance of the English army, demanding the trial of the king,
was sent by the earl of Inchiquin to the marquess. At this dreadful
intelligence the marquess gave up all consideration of every object
beyond the meeting of that fearful emergency, (for such it then ap-
peared) and only looked to saving the king by the union of Ireland in
his favour, at any price. The treaty was therefore soon concluded to the
entire satisfaction of the more moderate of the Roman catholic party, on
the basis of the articles of 1 646. These terms were indeed far from such
as the marquess would have even listened to a few months before; but
he now acted with the strong hope of producing a salutary reaction in
favour of the king, and averting the ruin which seemed to menace both
kingdoms. The marquess has been blamed for these concessions; but
to his apprehension it was a choice of evils, and he chose the less, so
far as human reason could go ; for we have no right to assume them as
interpositions of Providence.

The execution of king Charles in the beginning of 1649, gave a
shock to the marquess, which as he afterwards remarked, made all
the troubles of his after life sit lighter upon him. The account was
received with a general expression of sorrow and indignation. The
marquess immediately ordered the proclamation of Charles II., and its
reception was so generally favourable, that the nuncio, concluding
that there would be a universal submission to the authority of the
lord-lieutenant, was confirmed in the resolution which he had latterly
formed, to leave the kingdom. He wrote his parting directions to
Owen O'Neile and to such of the hierarchy of his communion as still

216 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

adhered to himself, to exert their most strenuous efforts to keep
up the war. Owen was now the only person among the Irish who
held out; but many circumstances had caused a falling' off in his force,
and the marquess employed Daniel O'Neile to treat with him. The
commissioners of trust also sent their agents for the same purpose, but
the terms which they offered were such as to lead O'Neile to suspect
that they underrated his value, and he resolved to let them see their
error, and entered upon a treaty with the independents.

The king was at the Hague, when the account reached him of his
father's death; he immediately confirmed the appointment of the
marquess. The marquess was involved meanwhile, in many added
perplexities. The commissioners of trust, who held pro tempore the
power of levying assessments for the expense of the war, were more
sedulous to fill their own coffers, than to execute their trusts. The
marquess, pressed by a host of emergencies, could only command the
ordinary revenue, which was insufficient for preparations which would
be necessary for taking the field in the following- spring. He wrote
to the king strongly urging him to come over, as his presence would
unite all parties, and supersede all authorities which at present
embarrassed the course of his interests. The king had at the same
time received invitations from Scotland. The Scottish commissioners
proposed terms which could not be accepted, and were referred to his
arrival in Ireland for an answer ; the States entered warmly into the
wishes of the Scots and pressed him in their favour. It was thought
desirable to obstruct his journey to Ireland, and with this view it was
suggested that the States would, if ajjplied to, advance a sum of money
for the purpose. Charles applied by a memorial, and was thus diverted
into procrastination of his journey, till the time when it might be of
avail was spent in awaiting the fulfilment of a promise which from the
beginning was but a snare. At last, when reduced to the greatest
embarrassment for want of the ordinary means of supporting his
household, Charles left Holland and went to France.

The marquess was in the meantime left to the ruinous means to which
he was ordinarily compelled to resort, for the purpose of raising and
maintaining a force which at best was wholly inadequate to the demand
of the time. By loans where he could borrow, and by freely involving
himself in debts, which afterwards became the burden of many years,
and which no private estate could wipe away, he made such prepar-
ations as he could, to lay siege to Dublin. On this undertaking the
event of the struggle was now thought to depend; the loyalists in
England stood in suspense, waiting for the result of an enterprise which
was expected to be the signal for a fresh insurrection in England.
The difficulties of the marquess were aggravated by the general
scarcity; every kind of provision was exhausted, and the spring was
more backward than usual. So late as May, he was only enabled to
collect 2000 foot and 200 horse; these he sent with the earl of
Castlehaven to take such places as O'Neile held in Leinster, which
it would not be safe to leave in the occupation of an enemy in the
rear of his march against Dublin. During this expedition it is
stated that the soldiers were sometimes two or three days without food,
and daily on the point of breaking up; this the marquess barely con -

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 217

trived to prevent by sending1 off small sums as fast as he could borrow
them. In the meanwhile he was drawing together such troops as he
could at Leighlin bridge; in the utmost uneasiness at being compelled
to let pass an occasion so favourable for the execution of a decisive
blow: Dublin, at that moment was itself reduced to a state of great
extremity, and would have offered little effectual resistance, could he
but advance before Jones should be further reinforced and the town
supplied. The marquess in vain represented to prince Rupert that
there was at the time " not ten days' provisions of bread in the place,
so that if the harbour were but blocked up, the forces within it must fall
to nothing immediately."* Jones had himself been neglected by his
masters, who were yet kept in a state of internal ferment by the
pressure throughout England of a strong re-action of popular feeling,
and still more by the contest for pre-eminence which had arisen
among themselves. The importance of Ireland, however, appeared so
considerable, that it could not under any circumstances be neglected;
the hopes of the royal party had turned thither, and though the time
had not arrived for a decisive blow, it was yet indispensable to occupy
a precautionary position. So that before the marquess could sit down
with any reasonable hope of success before the walls, the parliamentary
commander was enabled to bid him defiance, and to look without appre-
hension upon his approach at the head of a scanty, discontented, and
divided force; which he had by the first of June contrived to raise to
GoOO foot and 2000 horse. To enable him to advance a step with
these, he had to borrow £800 and to take up a supply of meal on
credit; he thus advanced and took Kildare, Talbotstown and Castle
Talbot, but at this latter place, he was again checked by the exhaus-
tion of these supplies, and compelled to remain on the west of the
Liffey, while Jones drew out as far as Johnstown to meet him.

Jones had been relieved with needful supplies of corn and money
and in a letter to Cromwell dated on the 6th of the same month,
describes himself as successfully engaged in fomenting differences
between Owen O'Neile and the marquess, and also as having opened an
intercourse with Preston for the same purpose. This was, it appears,
facilitated by some discontent of Preston's who had about two mouths
previous, received from the marquess a refusal to his application to be
made master-g-eneral of the ordnance, on the death of Sir T. Lucas,
who held the office. The marquess, who found it very difficult to
satisfy the disorderly ambition of those who had joined him from the
confederate party, gave this post to lord Taaffe, who had merited it
by continued and efficient service.

It is mentioned rather doubtfully, but on grounds probable enough,
that a conspiracy against the life of the marquess was at this time
suspected. A report seems to have prevailed in England, that several
ruffians were hired to assassinate him; this is mentioned directly in a
letter from Sir E. Nicholas to the marquess himself. And a passage
from one of the letters between Jones and a person of the name of
Rochfort, who seems to have been his correspondent in the quarters
of the marquess, appears to hint at something of the kind. " None,"

• Carte.

218 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

says he, "have been made privy to our proceeding's but general Preston,
his son colonel Warren, and a few other leading men so far embarked
in the work, as a syllable hath not dropped from any of them. This I
gather by Ormonde's being friendly invited hither to dinner on
Thursday last, though he would not, (as we suppose by reason of the
caution thence given him,) commit his person to us, without his guards
of horse and foot; by which advertisement we missed of our last
opportunity."

Such was the state of affairs, when about 14th June, a considerable
reinforcement, with a supply of money amounting to £3000 collected
by lord Taaffe, enabled the marquess to march to Dublin. The
garrison in that city however had become stronger than his army, and
was in excellent condition, so that he could not with prudence risk his
strength in any decided operation, and was barely enabled to hold his
position and watch for the turn of affairs, whilf through his officers he
obtained possession of Drogheda, Dundalk, and other principal places.
His hopes were, indeed, so far lowered, that instead of pressing for the
arrival of the king as heretofore, he now advised his awaiting the
event of the siege of Dublin, which (judging from the general tone of
his letters,) he must have considered as nearly desperate at the time.
The events of this interval we can only sum with the utmost brevity,
and have already in various memoirs mentioned the principal of them.
It was generally known that Cromwell was on the eve of embarking
for Ireland, an event of which the marquess was far from appreciating
the whole importance, as he observed in his letter to the king, that
he feared his money more than his troops ; little considering that in
truth it was only comparatively speaking — that any force then on the
field in Ireland, could be entitled to be considered as an army; and
that any sum of money, in the then existing state of the country,
could only enable him to bring a larger mob to the field.

After many inoperative movements, chiefly made with a view to
form a blockade of the city, about the 3d of July it was deemed
advisable to complete its investment. Lord Dillon of Costilogh was
left with 2000 men and 500 horse on the north of the city, while the
marquess crossed the Liffey and encamped at Kathmines: while this
movement was in progress, a squadron arrived from England in the
bay, carrying a reinforcement to the garrison of 2000 men, commanded
by colonel V enables, with a large supply of money, and all necessaries.
On this, the marquess with the advice of his council, came to a resolu-
tion to draw away their troops and retire to Drogheda, and the other
principal places in the possession of his majesty's officers. The
resolution was ill received by the officers and soldiers, and it was
generally affirmed through the troops, that the taking of Dublin
would be a matter of little difficulty, if they could first deprive the
garrison of the small plot of meadow, which was the sole means of
6upport for their horses; and this it Avas thought might be effected b^
seizing possession of a castle in the vicinity which could easily be
fortified so as to resist any attack likely to be made upon it from the
town. The marquess sent Preston, Purcel, and others of his general
officers, to inspect the place, and on their report gave orders for its
fortification, which was committed to major general Purcel with 1500

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 21 U

men. This party received orders to move at nightfall to the work, and
when it became dark enough to conceal their operations, they set out
on their way, but were misled by their guides, who were subsequently
alleged to have betrayed them,* and did not arrive at the spot till an
hour before day. The marquess sat up all night in the anticipation of
some attempt from the town, and engaged himself in writing his
despatches. At daybreak he mounted his horse and rode to the castle
of Baggatrath, which he did not think so strong as the report of his
officers led him to expect, and was surprised to find the work scarcely
begun, which by his directions was to have been completed at that
hour; he also perceived several strong parties of the enemy drawn
out under their own works, obviously aiming at concealment. It then
became a matter of consideration, whether he should discontinue the
work, but he decided upon advancing to support the working parties.
He gave orders for this, at the same time assuring his officers that an
attack from the town might be expected, as he thought Jones would
incur any risk to prevent their possession of the castle. Having given
the most express directions, and told each general the precise position
he was to take, the marquess having been up all the night, returned to
obtain an hour's sleep before the exertions of the day. He had not
slept an hour, when he was started from his sleep by the discharge of
musquetry. Arming himself quickly, he galloped out in the direction
of the firing; he did not go far when he met the working party,
which was the right wing of his army, coming towards him in foul dis-
order. Jones had marched out upon them, and they were soon broken,
Sir W. Vaughan to whom the marquess had given the command in
the morning, (in his displeasure against Purcelf ) being killed fighting
at the head of his men. A considerable number of them scattered
on towards their homes in the Wicklow mountains, to which Carte
observes they knew the way " too well."

The centre consisted of lord Inchiquhrs infantry, commanded by
colonel Giffard, with whose assistance the marquess drew them up in
good order: to guard their flank he posted two regiments under colonel
O'Reilly and another in an adjoining field, desiring that they should
not stir until his return — he had not gone far when they were attacked,
O'Reilly slain and the men routed. The troops of Jones had come
out in separate parties, and been led on rather by the incidents of the
attack than according to any settled plan. Of these a large body of
horse had got round into the rear of the marquess's centre, and were
making their way through a lane by the flank of Gifford's foot, to
join a strong body of infantry which was at the same time advancing
in front. The marquess commanded a discharge of musquetry, which
threw them into such disorder, that their disorganization would have
been complete if the flanking parties had kept their ground; but the
English horse rallied and joined their party in front; and at the same
time, another large body both of horse and foot, which had fol-
lowed the same direction, appeared on the same fields, and drew up

* The fact was afterwards confessed in 1653. — See Carte, II. p. 79, for the
particulars.

j- Borlase.

220 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

in the rear of Gifford's men. The Irish became so much discouraged
that it was impossible to lead them to the charge, and they showed
such decided signs of breaking that the marquess saw his last resource
was in the conduct of the left wing; leaping a ditch, he made his
way with much difficulty, and found them also wavering, and checked
by a strong body of English, so that he could not move them (as he
had designed) to the relief of the centre. They were in a state
bordering on flight, and the marquess saw that nothing but a decided
impulse forward could prevent this result; he therefore rushed in
among their ranks and with most of the officers, made every posi-
ble exertion to rally their departed courage and lead them to the
charge ; but they were past recovery, and the urgency of the marquess
only terrified them the more, so that when he, in order to give the
necessary impulse, galloped forward waving his sword toward the
enemy, — as if by common consent, they turned about and commenced
their flight without any pursuer. The marquess turned, and gal-
loping among the fugitives contrived to stop some hundreds, but it
was like the attempt to put a dead man on his feet, they only followed
the marquess till they obtained a sight of the enemy, and turned back
in a tumult of terror. The marquess did not give up till after repeated
efforts of the same kind and with similar success, convinced him of
the mortifying- truth, that his army had no substance, and that the
hope of the day was gone. He then sent a dispatch to lord Dillon,
on the other side of the Liffey, giving notice of the event, and order-
ing the forces off to the garrisons of Drogheda and Trim, against the
chance of their being (as he expected) soon attacked by Jones. The
marquess was struck by a musket shot, but saved from material
injury by his armour. This battle presents a singular accumulation of
mischances and errors, so that on a superficial view it seems difficult
to conceive the presence of any presiding discretion, in the disposition
or appreciation of the means of resistance or offence. The army
of the marquess assailed without method or previous design, seems to
have melted off like a mist before wandering bodies of soldiers, who
seem themselves to have been going astray, and who cannot be
strictly said to have attacked them. The whole difficulty is greatly
diminished by looking at the primary fact, that the marquess had
from the commencement no intention to hazard a battle, and from a
consciousness of the inadequacy of his force had determined to abandon
the siege. The plan which he had actually adopted, was within the
reach of an easy effort, and would have given him a considerable advan-
tage, amounting nearly to a blockade of the city. When this, for which
he adopted the ordinary means, was frustrated by the treachery of the
guides, (for this seems proved,) the consequences followed; and he
had not the means to evade them. The discomfiture of his army was
not to be attributed to any defect of command or disposition ; it was
wholly panic, and the absence of any military fitness in the composition
of his troops: they were a mere mob ; like all mere mobs, eager to fight;
and wanting the requisite discipline, still more eager to run away.

The effect of this disaster at Rathmines caused a great and universal
depression. The loss of the ordnance and arms was a fatal stmhe
that could not be repaired. " Men," as Carte observes, " were much

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 221

easier to be supplied, than money to pay, or means to support them.
The cities refused to lend money, and the sums which had been assessed
by the commissioners of trust not having been paid, were also now with-
held. Under these circumstances, it was a last resource to come to an
agreement with O'Neile; this was easy: O'Neile had been not only
disappointed by the parliamentary officers who employed him, but he
was sensibly mortified by the contemptuous rejection of the English com-
mons who openly censured their officers for having recourse to so un-
worthy an ally. Owen was at the head of the most efficient body of
native soldiers in the country, and by his aid there was a hope of still
retrieving the fortune of the war. The landing of Cromwell, August
Kith, 1649, put an end to this hope, and quickly altered the character
of the war; he brought with him 8,000 foot, 6,000 horse, and £200,000,
with considerable stores of all the materials and implements of war.
The report of his arrival had been rendered doubtful by long delays :
the engrossing interests of that revolution, which ended in his eleva-
tion, and the unwillingness of men to serve in Ireland where they had
hitherto been allowed to starve, had protracted the existence of the
miserable conflict of parties which had so long wasted. the country by
a lingering course of faction, fanaticism, and intrigue; the civil atmo-
sphere was now to be cleared by a thunder-storm, such as alone
could drive down and dispel the unwholesome vapours, which were
inconsistent with the natural course of civil existence, and, for a season,
restore this country to that uninterrupted progress, in which it has
never been allowed to advance by the ordinary law of national growth.
The chief events which immediately followed Cromwell's arrival,
are already noticed in this volume.* We shall now therefore pursue the
subject no farther than as it immediately concerns the marquess.
Being written to by the king to send him an account of the state of
affairs, and to give his opinion as to the prudence of his coming to
Ireland; the marquess distinctly stated in his answer, the prosperous
condition of the parliamentary force, and the utter prostration of the
king's: but, nevei'theless, advised his coming, as a last resource in a
desperate case, and as a course consistent with his honour. The king
had, however, in the interval between his letter to the marquess and
his receiving the answer, been listening to the proposals of the Scots,
and had come to a change of purpose. The marquess, deserted by
every aid on which he had placed a vain reliance, having virtually no
party, and only seconded by a few gallant leaders, of whom the chief
were Inchiquin, Castlehaven, and Clanricarde, continued for some
months longer to strive against the irresistible current of a new and
overwhelming power. He journeyed from place to place, tried to infuse
courage into the panic-stricken, and constancy into the wavering; he
contrived by means ruinous to himself, to raise small sums of money,
which he distributed with a free hand wherever there was a garrison
or a fort still willing to hold out for the king. But the struggle was
vain; deserted by the fears of the many, by the treachery of a few, and
denounced by the clergy of the Roman church, who saw the triumph
of their cause in the downfal of the party with which they had hither*

* Life of Lord Bron-liill.

to contended; but above all, counteracted by the weakness of the king;
the marquess began to perceive the utter hopelessness of the contest.
In the treaty concluded at Breda, between Charles and the Scottish
commissioners, he gave his consent to the breach of that peace which
the marquess of Ormonde had with such difficulty brought about; and
by this act cut the last thread of the frail tie which gave the marquess
a doubtful party in the island. The king was fully conscious of the
injury thus committed, and in his letter of excuse, in which he pleads
the necessity of his situation to the marquess, he advises him to take
care of his own person, as the last service of importance left him to
fulfil ; and declares, " I shall take it very unkindly, if I find you do not
withdraw yourself so timeously, as to preserve your safety for better
times." Thus induced, and seeing no further object in remaining, the
marquess addressed himself seriously to prepare for his departure.
His last effort was an address to the commissioners of trust, in which
he asserts, that his majesty's late declaration against the peace had
been enforced, and that he was resolved to assert its validity, provided
the " bishops would revoke all their acts and declarations against his
authority, and give assurances of not attempting the like for the future.
2dly. That the commissioners of trust should declare the bishops' de-
claration and excommunication to be an unwarrantable usurpation upon
his majesty's authority, and in them a violation of the peace; and if
the bishops would not give, or observe the assurances before expressed,
that they should endeavour to bring the offenders to condign punish-
ment. 3dly. That the like declaration should be made by all magis-
trates and officers, civil and military. 4thly. That the lord-lieutenant
should reside freely in any place he should choose, within the limits not
possessed by the rebels ; and 5thly, should be suffered to put garrisons
according to the articles of the peace, in all places as he should judge
necessary for the defence of the kingdom; wishing at last that some
course might be taken for his support, in some proportion answerable
to his place, yet with regard to the state of the nation, he being de-
prived of all his own fortunes, upon which he had wholly subsisted ever
since he came into the kingdom."

To the first and main proviso of this letter, the bishops replied,
that the king, by his late declaration, had cast the kingdom from his
protection, and thereby withdrawn his authority ; and that the last re-
source they had left, was a return to their old oath of association: they
also declared, that they would not revoke their excommunication and
declaration, nor give the pledges demanded by the marquess.

The marquess then called a general assembly at Loughrea, which
met on the 15th of November, 1650. To this assembly he communi-
cated his intention to leave Ireland, and proposed for their con-
sideration the question as to the best means for the preservation of the
kingdom. This assembly was numerous, and composed of the most re-
spectable of the nobility and gentry, who, though bereft of all their
natural influence, were themselves true to the loyal cause; the same
feeling was also preserved by a considerable section of the clergy, of
whom the hostile class was merely a majority; and these joined the
assembly in declaring against the acts of their brethren. A desire was
expressed by the assemblv that the marquess should formally reply to

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 223

the declarations made by the clergy ; but he refused to take any fur-
ther notice of " such a collection of notorious falsehoods as were con-
tained in that declaration," which, as his historian observes, could only
impose upon the ignorant populace.

During the sitting of the assembly at Loughrea, the resolution of
the marquess received further strength, by a letter written from Scot-
land, by the king, of which we give an extract : " The hazards," says
he in his letter of that date, " and dangers, besides the trouble, I hear
you do expose yourself unto on all occasions, make me entreat and
command you to have a care of your person, in the preservation of
which, (I would have you believe) I am so much concerned, both in my
interest and affection, that I would not lose you for all I can get in
Ireland. If the affairs there be in such a condition, as it will be neces-
sary for you to quit the country and retire into France, then I do very
earnestly desire and entreat you to repair to my brother, the duke of
York, to advise and assist him with your counsels; upon which I have
such a confidence and reliance, that I have wrote, and sent instructions
to him, to be advised by you upon all occasions, and I doubt not of his
cheerful and ready compliance, and that you will find all good satisfac-
tion from him."*

The bishops also sent to hasten his departure; and, through their
messengers, the bishops of Dromore and Dean Kelly, desired that he
should commit the royal authority in his hands to certain nominees
of their own, to whom they would g-ive their assistance, while they were
resolved to resist any others. These were Sir N. Plunket, Terence
MacLoghlan, Philip O'Reily, Tirlogh O'Boile, the marquess of Clan-
ricarde, and Dermott O'Shaughnessy. In this proposal it was perfectly
understood, that the nomination of the marquess of Clanricarde was
merely specious, and under the assumption that he would refuse to act
with the others ; it was also plainly apparent that the object of the entire
selection was to obtain, through the intervention of persons wholly at
their disposal, the entire command of the kingdom. Thus miserably
will men fight for factious motives, in the very front of approaching
perdition.

The marquess of Ormonde appointed lord Clanricarde his deputy.
He sailed on the 7th December, 1650, from the bay of Galway, but
was still delayed by a correspondence with the assembly at Loughrea,
on the appointment of lord Clanricarde. For this purpose he landed
at Glaneinagh till the 11th, when he again sailed. The vessel which
conveyed him was a frigate of 28 guns, sent over for him from France
by the duke of York. He carried with him the earl of Inchiquin,
colonel Wogan, and about forty other officers. In the Bay of Biscay
they met with a privateer, which was deterred from attacking them by
the martial appearance of the company. The passage was very tem-
pestuous, and after three weeks tossing they entered the bay of Perose,
in JBas Bretagne. Their approach excited alarm in the harbour, and
they were fired at by the ships of war, but sending out their yawl, they
soon made themselves known, and passed on peacefully to the land so
anxiously desired. A vessel containing some of the servants of tho

* Carte.

224 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

marquess, was lost; it also contained property belonging to the king,
and it is thought that the captain, for the purpose of appropriating
this, turned back to England, and was cast away near Scilly.

On the departure of the marquess, the lord Clanricarde soon found
the difficulties of the trust which he had undertaken. The rapid and
sanguinary progress of Cromwell had been terminated by his return to
England under the pressure of interests more anxious than the reduc-
tion of Ireland, and though the worst of his campaign had been in
some important respects nearly decisive, yet the work was not half
effected. The winter season was unfavourable to the warfare of the
age, and this more especially in Ireland, where the food and climate
were found to disagree with the English soldiers, so much that a single
campaign frequently disabled them for service; Ireton was therefore
compelled to suspend his operations, and the greater part of Connxuglit
and Munster remained untouched ; and the Irish, though in no degree
formidable in the field, were still far from abandoning the hope of
successful hostility. There were in fact two violent parties to be
subdued — the king's party now headed by the earl of Clanricarde,
and the party of the clergy, who not willing to compromise the views
on which they had till then been exclusively intent, were yet at least
so far convinced of the real position in which they stood, that they
warmly entertained the question of a treaty with the independents.
They saw, for they could not but see, that the balance of chances was
turned in favour of the parliament, and thought it wise to seize the
occasion of a doubtful pause, to make the best terms they might with
the stronger side. Ireton had the address to avail himself of their known
state of feeling by sending agents to the assembly, to which he re-
presented the desperation of their affairs and proposed a treaty. The
proposal was at first rejected by the influence of Clanricarde and the
feeling of his party, but revived by the influence of the clergy headed by
Nicholas French the titular bishop of Ferns. But the remonstrances
of Clanricarde, joined by the principal of the nobility and gentry, were
too well grounded in the strong facts and admissions from which
their opponents had no appeal, not to be for the time decisive; and the
clerical party were in their turn compelled to give way to a boldness
of declaration to which they were little accustomed, and yielded to
the general sense of the assembly. Thus baffled, they still persevered
in their steady and systematic resistance to the whole policy of Clanri-
carde, and by these methods of influence and active but private
concert, they rendered his efforts powerless; more alert to embody
resistance, and to effect their immediate objects by means of that per-
vading influence which was the result of their peculiar connexion with
the people, than prudent in their calculation of final results, they still
toiled for an ascendency which was passingfrom their grasp, through the
medium of events without the circle of their contemplation; they still
hoped to restore the confederacy of 1642, and did not relinquish their
favourite, if not rather exclusive aim, the complete establishment of the
papal power. Under this singular infatuation, a treaty opened with
the duke of Lorraine in behalf of the king, was by their endeavours
perverted into a proposal of a very different character, in so much that
the earl of Clanricarde was compelled formally to disavow the conduct

of his own agents. This curious episode in the history of the disjoin-
ted times under our notice cannot be here introduced in detail, as it
would lead to a very considerable digression from the main subject of
our memoir. The duke of Lorraine had commenced a treaty with tho
king for a large loan: the security was not satisfactory, but in the
course of the negotiation the private interests and the ambition of the
duke were strongly introduced into the transaction: he had for some-
time been endeavouring to obtain from the court of Rome a sentence
to annul his first marriage, as he had married a second wife while the
first was yet alive; the Irish agents also contrived to inflame his mind
with the hope of acquiring the sovereignty of Ireland. Under these
motives, which are fully confirmed and explained by the language of
articles proposed by himself, and to be found at length in many of our
historians, the duke was easily prevailed upon to lend £5000, which
was laid out in arms and ammunition, which arrived in the Bay of
Galway during the meeting of the assembly and had material influence
upon their determinations. The duke proposed to assume the pro-
tection of the country, on the condition of being1 invested with the
entire authority and receiving absolute submission. To these pro-
posals the assembly lent a willing ear. Scorning all communication
with the lord-deputy, the bishops declared their consent, and pro-
nounced the proposal of the duke to be the last resource of their
nation. They were desired by the Abbe de St Katharine, the duke's
envoy, to sign their consent, but they recoiled from a step so decisive;
they could not at once depart so widely from established precedent,
or commit themselves so far. The consent of the earl of Clanricarde,
would, they were aware, be demanded by their followers, though not
by themselves. But Clanricarde met these proposals with uncompro-
mising firmness, and refused to admit the Abbe to an audience of
leave. The Abbe was intimidated and offered a loan of £20,000 on
the security of Limerick and Galway, and proposed to refer the ques-
tion of the Protectorship to the mediation of a treaty at Brussels. On
this Sir N. Plunket, and Geoffry Browne, were commissioned with
lord Taafe, and authorized to treat with the duke according to such
instructions as they should receive from the queen, the duke of York,
and the marquess of Ormonde. But while the lord Taafe proceeded
to Paris where the marquess of Ormonde was at the time residing,
other proceedings were in their progress at Brussels. Thither the
bishop of Ferns, with a company of the clergy who were of his party,
and several agents from the Irish cities in their interest, had arrived,
and were completely possessed of the duke's ear. By these, he was
persuaded that it was in their power to put him into full possession of
the kingdom of Ireland. Plunket and Browne were impressed by the
strong language of the bishop, and were also persuaded that it was
essentially expedient to secure the money at all risks. They were
easily induced to disclaim the lord-deputy's commission, and in the
name of the Irish nation they signed a treaty with the duke, by which
he was invested with royal authority in Ireland. A petition to th«
pope was at the same time drawn up by the bishop of Ferns and

* Boria>-e. p. 35 1.

n. p Ir.

226 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

signed by Plunket; Browne refused his signature, and that of Taafe
was signed for him in his absence and without his concurrence. A
formal protest from lord Clanricarde reached the duke, and terminated
these disgraceful transactions.

We shall not delay to describe the concurrent course of proceedings,
relative to the same affair in Ireland. The Irish clergy acted in full
conformity with the undertakings of their deputation in Brussels ; they
convened synods and made public declarations in favour of the duke
of Lorraine; they prepared a sentence of excommunication against
Clanricarde and their opponents, to be produced when it should be
safe, and declared the revival of the original confederacy.

Ireton in the mean time was not neglectful of his post. And the
military operations already related in the lives of Coote and lord
Broghill took place ; the lords Castlehaven and Clanricarde, with their
ill-conditioned men and inadequate means, were after much strenuous'
but fruitless exertion of activity, courage, and skill, compelled to see
the parliamentary generals gain post after post. Ireton having ob-
tained possession of Limerick advanced to Galway, where he died of
the plague, and his place was efficiently filled by Ludlow, who conduct-
ed his duty with a decision and stern severity that spread universal
dismay. A general treaty of submission in the name of the whole
kingdom was proposed by the assembly of Leinster. In Galway, Clan-
ricarde was prevailed on to propose a treaty of submission to Ludlow,
but the time of treaty had stolen away while they had been engaged
in the infatuation of intrigue, and the proposal was met by a ster
denial. The tone of authority was taken up, and the litigious and
brawling synods and conventions were made to understand, that hence-
forth they were to regard themselves not as parties to equal negotia-
tion, but as rebels and public disturbers placed upon their trial by the
authority of the commonwealth of England. These intimations were
indeed disregarded by the crowd of inflamed partisans, clerical and
lay, who had been accustomed only to the effects of a war of treaties,
declarations, and miserable intrigues ; but Preston the governor of Gal-
way,who preserved his discretion and saw the danger in its true light,
gave the not unimpressive warning of retreat by making his escape by
sea, and the city was actually surrendered, while the synod were
planning imaginary triumphs. In the midst of this adverse concur-
rence of circumstances, Clanricarde preserved his digmity and firm-
ness; and having to the very latest moment maintained the cause of
which he was the official leader, he submitted to the king's commands
and treated with the parliamentary leaders.

Fleetwood was appointed to the government of Ireland ; and the par-
liament, entering seriously on the consideration of the measures necessary
for its final settlement, two acts were discussed; one for the confiscation
of the estates of the rebels, another for the settlement of the claims of
those to whom they were to be transferred. Some were to lose two-thirds
and some the whole ; among the latter was expressly named the mar-
quess of Ormonde with lord Inchiquin, Bramhal bishop of Derry, and
the earl of Roscommon. But the train of events which at this time
so iong involved the British Isles in the chaos of political disor-
ganization reached its end, and the condition of the country utterly

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 227

exhausted by ten years of uninterrupted disorder, was relieved by the
ascendancy of a single command. The rule of the most atrocious
despotism that ever disgraced a throne, is a slight evil compared
with the tyranny of popular factions; but the government of Oliver
Cromwell was, considering all circumstances, just, beneficent and
statesmanlike ; in Ireland it was tempered by the disinterested wisdom
of his son Henry Cromwell.

The marquess of Ormonde, having passed some months (with the
interruption of one short visit to Paris,) with his family in Caen, was
summoned to Paris to give his counsel and assistance in the affairs of
the duke of York, by which he was detained for a considerable time
during the summer and autumn of 1652. The little money he had
been enabled to apply to his own expences and those of his family was
quite exhausted. He was compelled to board for a pistole per week in
Paris and to appear on foot in the streets, which was not considered
respectable among the Parisians. Under these depressing circum-
stances— in which the intrinsic elevation of few characters can shield
them from the slight of the world, the respect of which follows the
outward reflection of prosperity— the spirit, sense, and dignity of the
marquess, together with his well attested political virtue and wisdom,
attracted universal reverence and regard. A curious anecdote related
by Carte, may serve to illustrate the free and spirited indifference to
pecuniary considerations, which is a well marked feature of the mar-
quess's character, and at the same time exemplify the manners of the
aristocracy of that period. We shall extract Carte's narrative. " The
marquess himself was left in no small distress in Paris ; but treated
on account of his qualities and virtues with great respect by the
French nobility. One of these having invited him to pass some days
at his house in St Germain en Laye, there happened on this occasion
an adventure, the relation whereof may perhaps gratify the reader's
curiosity. The marquess of Ormonde, in compliance with an incon-
venient English custom, at his coming away, left with the maitre d'
Hotel ten pistoles to be distributed among the servants. It was all
the money he had, nor did he know how to get credit for more when
he reached Paris. As he was upon the road ruminating on this
melancholy circumstance, and contriving how to raise a small supply
for present use, he was surprised at being informed by his servant,
that the nobleman, at whose house he had been, was behind him, driving
furiously as if desirous to overtake him. The marquess had scarcely
left St Germain when the distribution of the money he had given
caused a great disturbance among the servants, who, exalting their
own services and attendance, complained of the maitre d' Hotel's par-
tiality. The nobleman hearing an unusual noise in his family, and
upon inquiry into the matter, finding what it was, took the ten
pistoles himself, and causing horses to be put to his chariot, made all
the haste that was possible after the marquess of Ormonde. The mar-
quess upon notice of his approach, got off his horse, as the other quitted
his chariot, and advanced to embrace him with great affection and
respect; but was strangely surprised to find a coldness in the noble-
man which forbade all embraces, till he had received satisfaction on a
point which had given him great offence. He asked the marquess if

he had reason to complain of any disrespect or other detect which he
had met with in the too mean, but very friendly entertainment which
his house afforded; and being answered by the marquess, that his
treatment had been full of civility, that he had never passed so many
days more agreeably in his life, and could not but wonder why the
other should suspect the contrary. The nobleman then told him,
'that the leaving ten pistoles to be distributed among the servants,
was treating his house as an inn, and was the greatest affront that
could be offered to a man of quality; that he paid his own servants
well, and had hired them to wait on his friends as well as himself;
that he considered him as a stranger that might be unacquainted wit h
the customs of France, and err through some practice deemed less
dishonourable in his own country, otherwise his resentment should
have prevented any expostulation; but as the case stood, after having
explained the nature of the affair, he must either redress the mistake
by receiving back the ten pistoles, or give him the usual satisfaction
of men of honour for an avowed affront.' The marquess," adds the
historian, " acknowledged his error, took back his money, and returned
to Paris with less anxiety about his subsistence. The same way of
thinking still prevails, though possibly not in so great a degree, as at
that time, in France ; but few men of quality will suffer a servant to
stay a moment in their houses who receives any thing from a stranger
or a visitant. They generally treat their servants (who think them-
selves settled, if they get into a good family) with great affection
and kindness; but will not allow them in any degree or manner to
depend upon any other than themselves; so that their families, how-
ever large and numerous, are more orderly and quiet, and the gentle-
men are better served than in any other nation of Europe."*

The distress to which the marquess was reduced was indeed so great
that it became necessary to take some decided step, for the suitable
maintenance of his marchioness and children. In this emergency one
obvious resource occurred, the estates which had been possessed by
the marchioness in her own right, might reasonably be claimed from
the justice of Cromwell, who had always expressed a great respect for
the marchioness, and was also known to favour the adherents of the royal
family in Ireland. It was probably under somewhat more circumstan-
tial views of the chances attendant upon such a step, that the mar-
chioness went over to England to solicit for a provision out of her own
estates. Her claim was respectfully entertained by Cromwell, who
obtained for her an order of parliament, authorising the commission-
ers for Irish affairs to set apart, as a provision for the marchioness and
her children, the clear yearly value of £2000 a-year out of her own
inheritance, together with Dunmore house near Kilkenny for her
residence.f

The marquess was in the mean time not allowed to remain without
occupation; being a principal party to all the exertions made in for-
eign courts for the king's restoration, and the entire manager of the
very troublesome, laborious and difficult negotiations attendant upon
the endeavour to raise an army for the king's service, among the Irish

* Carte. t Carte, II. p. ioi.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE.

<>or

who were engaged in foreign service; his courage, address and efficient
activity in every undertaking, not only made him the principal support
of the king in the midst of the various emergencies of his uncertain con-
dition of dependence upon the shifting alliance of intriguing courts ; they
also subjected him to extraordinary fatigues and dangers, in his efforts
to serve the royal cause and the interests of the members of the royal
family, who seem to have turned to him for aid in every exigency.
Among many occasions illustrative of this, Carte details at considerable
length the severities which were resorted to by the queen Dowager of
England and the queen Regent of France, to induce the duke of Glouces-
ter to change his religion. The young prince had been set at liberty
and permitted by Cromwell to join his family in France; he had been
educated in the Protestant religion, but was not long with them when
all the ordinary resources of persuasion, argument, and menace, were
employed to induce him to conform to the church of Rome ; the young
prince showed a firmness, good sense, and amiability of temper truly
admirable in one of his tender age, and the last resort of personal con-
straint which had no effect, was succeeded by a most cruel and unnat-
ural expulsion from the Louvre where he had resided with his mother.
The English residents in Paris were forbidden to entertain him; and
his mother refused to see his face again; but while these proceedings
were in their course, a strong apprehension was at the same time com-
municated to the king, lest some still more stringent course should be
resorted to, and he sent the marquess from Cologne, where he then
was, to attempt his extrication from so dangerous a situation, of which
the consequences, should the Dowager succeed, would be so destructive
to the king's interests in England. The marquess after a laborious
journey arrived in Paris, and by his presence and counsel not only
confirmed the resolution of the prince, but overawed and repressed the
activity of the queen's party. After being turned out of doors by his
mother the prince was received by lord Hatton, with whom he con-
tinued for two months, while the marquess raised money by pawning
his garter and the jewel formerly presented to him by the parliament, to
enable them to travel to the king. When they reached Antwerp the mar-
quess was seized with a severe and dangerous fever which delayed their
journey, so that the spring was far advanced when they reached
Cologne. On this journey the marquess had a narrow escape from being
drowned in the Rhine. Having gone to bathe in this river, he put
his clothes in a boat under the bank, which he committed to the charge
of a servant, and swam out into the stream ; when he was out the
servant left his charge, and the boat was taken across the river by a
stranger; the incident attracted the attention of the marquess who
seeing- the boat in which he had left his clothes on its way, immediately
turned back and crossing the stream recovered it. Having dressed
himself he got into the boat and directed his course toward the side
from which he came ; he did not however succeed in keeping the course
he would have steered, and was not only carried a great way down the
river, but at last found exceeding difficulty in regaining the bank.

The marquess on his arrival at, Cologne, was sent by the king to
conduct the princess royal to him, and on his return attended the
royal party to Frankfort, where they went to see the great fair. He

230 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

was next sent to the duke of Neuberg to solicit his mediation with the
Spanish court, for its assistance in his majesty's behalf. And shortly
after the cardinal Mazarin, having written a letter to Oliver Darcy,
titular bishop of Dromore misrepresenting the conduct of the marquess
and others who had engaged the Irish officers and soldiers in the
French service, to leave it after the French government had entered
into a league with Cromwell ; he was replied to by the marquess in
a letter very remarkable for its dignity and justice of sentiment, as
well as clearness of statement: such was its force that it was at the
time taken up by the cardinal's opponents, as a means of attack upon
bis government.* We extract the last paragraph. " And since he hath
been pleased to usurp an authority to judge and condemn me, with
circumstances of calumny not usually proceeding from the minister of
one prince to the servant of another, I conceive he gives me just
ground to put you in mind, that by his ministration, an alliance is
made between France and the murtherers of a just and lawful king;
and that not only without any necessity, but upon such infamous con-
ditions as no necessity can justify: I mean the banishing out of France
dispossessed princes, the grand- children to Henry the Fourth. Add to
this, that his Eminence is the instrument of such an alliance, as gives
countenance and support to the usurpers of the rights of kings, and
the professed persecutors of Roman catholicks, and the destroyers of
your nation, and to those by whom the nobility aud gentry of it are
massacred at home, and led into slavery, or driven to beggary abroad."

On receiving an intimation of the king's wishes from the marquess,
lord Muskerry proceeded to Paris, and according to the terms of his
engagement in the French service, demanded a discharge for himself
and his men. The cardinal with some hesitation granted a pass for
himself, but refused it for the men ; Muskerry went to Flanders and
was followed by bis regiment to a man. They were formed into a new
corps, under the command of the duke of York as colonel, and Mus-
kerry as lieutenant-colonel.

Having passed a very distressing winter at Brussels, where he was
commissioned to meet Don Juan for the king, it was suggested by
ibis commander that there should be some competent person in Eng-
land to take the conduct of the loyalists, before the king of Spain
could safely venture to embark his forces in the service of Charles.
The accounts from England very much exaggerated the strength and
determination of this party, but the Spaniard had probably received
accounts more nearly approaching the truth. The marquess without
hesitation volunteered on this difficult service, " proposing to go over
in disguise, and to know the utmost of what could be done, and that
if things were ripe for action he might be at the head of it, and if they
grew successful to such a degree as might invite the great men of the
kingdom, such as the marquess of Hertford, the earl of Northumber-
land, or others to come in, who might scruple to be commanded by
him, he would resign the command and serve under them, &c."f This

* The letter is in Carte's appendix, but too long and too little to our preeeut
purpose to extract it here.

f Carte.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 231

devoted offer was accepted with real or seeming reluctance. To cover
the design and divert inquiry the absence of the marquess was pre-
pared for by a fictitious embassy into Germany, on which having pro-
ceeded as far as Cleves with Sir R. Beling, the marquess passed into
Holland where he met Daniel O'Neile, and with him took shipping
for England, where he landed in January on the Essex coast. Having
proceeded as far as Chelmsford he and O'Neile pai'ted, and he went
on to London. There he found Sir W. Honeywood, who conducted
him to a place prepared for his concealment, and sought out for him
the persons he desired to meet. The marquess began most judiciously
with the inferior class of persons, from whose representations he might
best infer the real state of facts. His first meeting was in an upper
room at an apothecary's with about eight persons, to whom he was
introduced by Honeywood as " a gentleman for whom he undertook,
who was going to the king, and was the fittest person who might be
found to tell his majesty how all things stood." To him, therefore, he
assured them, they might fully explain their minds and state what
they could do. All however refused to make communications of so
dangerous a nature to one of whom they knew nothing ; they declared
that they would await the arrival of some person of sufficient authority
from his majesty. On this the marquess disclosed himself, to their
great surprise and confusion; they had in fact professed beyond their
means, and were little prepared to be so taken at their words. Their
statements were so incoherent, and so little grounded on any facts or
probabilities of a tangible nature, as to convince the marquess that
there was nothing to be expected from such vague and confused boasting.
He nevertheless said every thing to encourage the good affection of
these persons. He next met colonel Russel, Sir R. Willis, and other
noblemen and gentlemen, at one time in Bedford gardens and again in
Gray's inn. These gentlemen were more distinct and less sanguine
in their statements. The marquess met several who were willing to
come forward with such men as they could raise, but there was no
substantial plan or preparation, nor did there appear any hope of being
able to effect the sole object which could be of any real or efficient
importance, which was the seizure of some seaport town of adequate
strength. All was scattered and uncertain, and it was apparent, that
the pervading vigilance and activity of Cromwell was such, that the
conspirators against his government could not without much danger
and difficulty even venture to communicate with each other. The
marquess soon received from his friend lord Broghill an intimation
that his being in England was known to Cromwell, and was under the
necessity of escaping without delay. It was afterwards discovered
from the correspondence found among Cromwell's papers, that he had
been betrayed by one of the gentlemen who had been presented to
him as a royalist. During this visit to England, he had been subject
to extraordinary fatigue, and the anxiety of increasing alarm; he was
several times under the necessity of changing his quarters, and so
great was the precaution required, that he never undressed at night,
but lay down in his clothes, to be ready for a sudden escape.

The sum of his observations upon the prospects of the royal family
amounted to this, that the spirit of the people was favourable to a

232 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

rising iu favour of the king, to a degree even beyond his expectations ;
but such was the vigilance and activity of Cromwell, and so completely
did he hold all the civil and military powers of the kingdom, that it
would be vain to hope for any organized movement, unless with the
aid of strong external support. If", however, the king should obtain the
promised aid from Spain, the marquess advised a descent upon Yar-
mouth, which might be secured without a blow, before Cromwell
could have time to stir. Charles was eager to put this plan into ex-
ecution, and the Spanish general, Don Juan, was liberal in promises
and assurances of the requisite aid; and both the king and his friends
were thus kept amused with deceitful hopes during the spring of 1658.
During this time, the marquess lay concealed at Paris, in as much
danger, says Carte, "of the bastile there, as he had been of the Tower
in London !" He had fortunately two sisters there, the countess Clan-
cartyand lady Hamilton, at whose lodgings he found concealments more
endurable than it was always his fortune to meet. While there he
received orders from Charles to come to him with such speed as his
safety would admit: and as he had, nearly at the same time, received in-
telligence that Cromwell had sent to the cardinal Mazarin to secure
him, his escape was not without both difficulty and danger: and as it
was not to be doubted that he would be watched for on the road to
Flanders, he had no resource but to direct his flight to Italy.

Discontented with the conduct of Spain, the king at last entertained
the project of going- thither himself, but was dissuaded on many strong
grounds by his advisers ; and the cardinal De Retz, whom he consulted
through the marquess, advised that he should at least postpone his
design till the campaign in which the Spanish army was then engaged
should be concluded. At this time the king's finances received a
seasonable reinforcement by the marriage of the earl of Ossory with
Emilia, daughter of Louis of Nassau, with whom he received £10,000,
of which the greater part went to the royal coffer. To effect this
match, which was chiefly rendered desirable to the family by the worth
and attractions of the young lady who had won the young earl's heart,
the marchioness was under the necessity of settling £1200 per annum
out of her small estate. During the transactions which we have been
here relating-, the condition of the marchioness was far from happy.
Separated from her lord, she was immersed in litigation and in pro-
tracted applications and suits about the lands which were assigned
for her maintenance. She was first compelled to prove her right to
these lands, and the rates at which they had been let in 1640,
which was the standard of value by which the portion allowed by
parliament was to be ascertained. After her schedule was given in
and examined by a committee, and the assignment made, the lands
were found short of the value at which they had been rated. On
6ome parts the rent was exceeded by the contributions and assess-
ments to which they were subject, and others were subject to mort-
gages and other incumbrances. From these and other causes, which
bo affected the tenure of the lands that they could not be let to advan-
tage, the marchioness found it necessary to make a fresh application
to have a more profitable settlement of these lands. She was in this
successful; but in consequence of the complication of her affairs, was

necessitated to remain alone for two years in Ireland for their arrange-
ment; and when this was effected in 1655, she went over to England
for her children. There she was further afflicted by the imprisonment
of her eldest son, the earl of Ossory, of whose growing reputation
Cromwell was so jealous, that after giving him leave to go abroad, he
suddenly changed his mind, and ordered him to the Tower. Having
sent the rest of the children to Acton, she remained in London to solicit
the enlargement of the earl. She addressed her petition to Cromwell
in the presence of his crowded court; the Protector "hoped that she
would excuse him in that respect, and told her that he had more
reason to be afraid of her than of any body." The high-spirited lady
marchioness, understanding him more seriously than he intended,
replied without embarrassment, " that she desired no favour, and
thought it strange that she, who was never concerned in any plot, and
never opened her mouth against his person or government, should be
represented to him as so formidable a person," " No, madam," an-
swered Cromwell, "that is not the case; but your worth has gained you
so great an influence on all the commanders of our party, and we know
so well your power over the other party, that it is in your ladyship's
breast to act what you please."* Such civil evasions were all she could
for a long time obtain ; but the Protector's compliments were founded
in truth, and so great was the ascendancy of the character of the mar-
chioness, that he always treated her with a degree of deferential
respect which he seldom showed to others, never refusing her an
audience, though he did not like the object, and when she retired
never failing to attend her to her coach. The earl of Ossory was at
last set free upon his falling ill of an ague; but did not receive his
discharge till the following spring, when the marchioness sent him to
Holland to join his father.

The death of Cromwell brig-htened the hopes of the king and of his
supporters ; storms which afforded ample promise of change soon began
to arise in England, and the continental powers contemplating the
amendment of his fortunes, began to assume a more complacent tone,
and to be more in earnest in their offers of aid to the king. These
details we must here omit. The marquess was sent to Paris, where
the king's affairs began to wear a favourable aspect, to further the
advantages to be hoped for from the friendly professions of Turenne,
and also to effect a reconciliation between the king and his mother,
the queen-dowager Henrietta. So much activity was used on this
occasion, that all was soon in readiness for a descent upon the English
coast, when news of the unfortunate termination of Boothes' insurrec-
tion caused them to postpone their effort to another occasion, which
none doubted would soon occur, as, by the death of Cromwell, Eng-
land was left without an efficient government. The history of the
intrigues and cabals of Wallingford house, and the deposition of
Richard Cromwell, we have noticed in our memoir of lord Broghill.

Among the anxious proceedings of the royal party at this juncture,
the only one we are here concerned to mention, is the conference
between the marquess of Ormonde and the cardinal Mazarin. The

* Carte.

king had made a pressing application for an interview with the cardi-
nal, who being yet apprehensive of the English parliament, declined
such a meeting, under the pretence that it would prejudice his efforts
for the king. It was then arranged that he should meet the marquess
as if by accident, and confer with him upon the king's affairs. The
cardinal, according to the concerted arrangement, rode out upon the
12th November, 1659, and was met by the marquess, who represented
to him strongly the state of faction in England — the general disposi-
tion of the people in favour of the king — the actual engagements of
many persons of leading interest — and all the strong probabilities of
a restoration, if France would take the part which ought to be ex-
pected, on every just consideration to the claims of kindred or to the
cause of all constitutional authority. But the cardinal's favourite object
was the depression of the power of England, and arguments drawn
from principles of equity or general expediency had no weight in his
counsels. He continued firm to his policy, which may be here suffi-
ciently comprehended from the single fact, that he offered to support
Fleetwood with money and other aids, upon the condition of his perse-
verance in those courses which were adopted for the maintenance of
the commonwealth against the efforts of the royalists.

But a re-action too broad and deep for the machinations of a worn-
out faction had been for some time making its progress in England,
and at length began to flow in an authoritative channel. By the
natural, though seemingly accidental concurrence of circumstances,
which it belongs to the English historian to detail, a commander of
just and sagacious understanding, who was capable of perceiving and
entering with just discrimination into the feeling of the time, and the
course which all circumstances render expedient, was placed at the head
of the army, and from that moment all things paved the way for the
restoration of the house of Stuart. While the king was yet in some
uncertainty as to the conduct of Monk, he received an intimation that
Sir G. Downing, lately arrived from England, desired a conference
with some authorized person on the part of his majesty, and expressed
a strong wish that the marquess of Ormonde might be the person.
On this the marquess was sent to the Hague, when Downing, who
was there as the British resident, met him secretly, and informed him
of the real state of affairs in England.

The restoration immediately followed. The king was accompanied
into England by the marquess of Ormonde in the end of May, 1660.
After the public ceremonials attendant upon the king's arrival were
over, he was sworn a member of the privy council, and made steward
of the household: he was also appointed lieutenant of the county of
Somerset, and high steward of Westminster, Kingston, and Bris-
tol. He was also restored to his estates, of which part had been
arbitrarily seized by king James, and the remainder by the parlia-
ment— an act of justice, which can hardly be viewed as compensation
for the heavy debts contracted, and the accumulated losses of ten
years' deprivation: but the marquess was superior to the considerations
by which ordinary minds are wholly swayed, and was content, although
not relieved from embarrassments, which accompanied him through
life. More worthy of commemoration was the restoration to his office

of chancellor to the university of Dublin, and the changes made with
his usual decision for the purpose of redeeming that seat of learning
from the effects of parliamentary interference. Henry Cromwell,
whose political conduct in Ireland exhibited discretion and political
tact, had acted with less than his usual justice towards the university,
into which he introduced persons wholly destitute of any pretension
but those of factious politics and schismatical tenets. The marquess
proceeded with caution and zeal to restore that eminent seat of know-
ledge to its efficient functions as the moral and intellectual light of
Ireland, and as one of the great leading protestant seminaries in Europe.
He had Dr Seele appointed to the provostship, and most of the fellows
Avho had been displaced for non-compliance with the parliament rein-
stated in their fellowships. We shall have, hereafter, to enter in
detail upon this subject.

The marchioness of Ormonde came over to England to meet her
lord, and the earl of Ossory also arrived from Holland with his bride ;
and his whole family, after so many trying years of adversity, collected
to meet the marquess in London.

The marquess had soon an opportunity, of which he availed him-
self, to ward off a ruinous blow from many of the best old families in
Ireland. Some time before the arrival of the king, the English par-
liament had brought in a bill of indemnity, in which a clause was intro-
duced, that " this act should not extend to license or restore to any
person or persons (other than the earl of Ormonde and the protestauts
of Ireland,) any estate sold or disposed of by both or either of the houses
of parliament, or any convention assuming the style or name of a
parliament, or any person or persons deriving authority from them,"
etc., &c. Lord Aungier, however, prevailed to have this clause post-
poned until the marquess might be consulted. The marquess strongly
and effectually opposed it, and received in return the general acknow-
ledgment of the Irish nation; for few old families had wholly escaped
the effects of parliamentary usurpation.

It would prolong this memoir, which we have been vainly endea-
vouring to reduce within our ordinary bounds, to a length quite incon-
sistent with the limits assigned to this work, were we to detail the
train of circumstances connected with the state of the protestant church
in Ireland, when the marquess, by the free and prompt exertion of his
great influence, was the instrument to save it from destruction. These
facts will find an appropriate place in the next division of this period.
It may now be sufficient to state briefly that the property of the church
had passed into the hands of the parliamentary ministers, or into for-
feiture; while, at the same time, insidious attempts were made to mis-
lead the king into grants and alienations, by which he would be deprived
of the means of restitution. An address from the primate and eight
bishops was transmitted to the marquess, who exerted himself effectu-
ally to arrest the evil, and in the course of a few years placed that
respectable and useful body on a secure and permanent basis.

On the 13th February, 1661, the marquess was joined in commis-
sion Avith the duke of Albemarle and other lords, to determine on the
claims usually advanced at coronations, preparatory to the coronation of
Charles, at which ceremony, having been created duke of Ormonde

236

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

on the 30th of March, he assisted, bearing king Edward's crown
before the king, in his office of high steward of England.

The restitution of the duke's estates, though apparently a liberal
act of royal and national consideration for his real services, was yet
far below his actual claims, had he condescended to put forward any
claims upon this occasion. The estates which were restored to him
were of two main classes, of which the first were those lands held by his
vassals on the feudal tenure of military service, and which were legally
determined by their taking arms against him in the rebellion. The
second consisted of those lands which were in the hands of government
or of military adventurers, who on the change of affairs had no hope
of retaining them, and gave them up freely and without a murmur. He
was largely indebted to the crown, under very peculiar circumstances;
as the debts were incurred in the service of the crown, and had de-
volved to it by the forfeiture of creditors, such debts were ordered to
be discharged. The duke's claim is indeed so well stated in the king's
letters for putting him in possession of his estates, that we think it
fit to insert the preamble here : — " It having pleased Almighty God
in so wonderful a manner to restore us to our dominions and govern-
ment, and thereby into a power not only of protecting our good sub-
jects, but of repairing by degrees the great damages and losses they
have undergone in the late ill times by their signal fidelity and zeal
for our service, which we hold ourself obliged in honour and con-
science to do, as soon and by such means as we shall be able: nobody
can wonder or envy that we should, as soon as is possible, enter upon
the due consideration of the very faithful, constant and eminent
service performed to our father of blessed memory and ourself, upon
the most abstracted considerations of honour, duty, and conscience, and
without the least pause or hesitation, by our right trusty, and right
entirely beloved cousin and counsellor, James, marquis of Ormonde,
lord steward of our household, who from the very beginning of the
rebellion in Ireland, frankly engaged himself in the hardest and most
difficult parts of our service, and laying aside all considerations or
thought of his own particular fortune and convenience, as freely
engaged that, as his person, in the prosecution and advancement of our
interest; and when the power of our enemies grew so great that he
was no longer able to contend with it, he withdrew himself from that
our kingdom, and from that time attended our person in the parts
beyond the sea, with the same constancy and alacrity, having been
never from us, but always supporting our hopes and our spirits in our
greatest distresses with his presence and counsel, and in many occa-
sions and designs of importance, having been our sole counsellor and
companion. And therefore we say all good men would wonder, if
being restored to any ease in our own fortune, we should not make
haste to give him ease in his, that is so engaged and broken for us,
and which his continual and most necessary attendance about us must
still keep him from attending himself with the care and diligence he
might otherwise do; we knowing well besides the arrears due to him,
during the time he commanded the army, and before he was lord-
lieutenant of Ireland, that from the time he was by our royal father
put into the supreme command of that kingdom, and during the whole

time that he had the administration thereof, but wholly supported him-
self and our service upon his own fortune and inheritance, and over
and above borrowed and supplied great sums of money upon the en-
gagement or sale of his own lands, and disbursed the same upon carry-
ing on the publick service, as well during the time of his being there
under our royal father, as since under us."

In addition to the restoration of his estates, the duke obtained his
ancient perquisite of the prizage of wines, which his ancestors had
held immemorially, until Cromwell seized upon this right, and
converted it into a branch of excise.

The settlement of Ireland was soon found less practicable than had
been expected. There was a confusion of parties, whose inconsistent
claims were grounded, some in pledges real or implied, some on right,
some on possession, some on merits, and more than all, many on their
power to give trouble and create perplexity. For the satisfaction of
these, so far as such a result was consistent with the nature of things,
the means were absolutely wanting, and a course of intrigue and liti-
gation, violence, and misrepresentation commenced. Ireland, in which
the hatred and terror of its recent and long disorders had not subsided,
was filled with the noise of complaint : the numbers who had been ejected
from their possessions looked for a speedy reinstatement ; those who
had obtained possession by authorized means claimed to be confirmed;
and those who were possessed by usurpation feared to be deprived.
The king was more desirous to conciliate those who might become
formidable, than to satisfy the claims either of gratitude or justice.
To the confederates he was pledged by a treaty of peace, concluded
in his name and by his authorized lieutenant: the protestant army
had the merit of a seasonable declaration in his favour, and of being
the efficient instruments of wresting Ireland from the Cromwellians:
numbers too were creditors, and had advanced their money on the
consideration of Irish lands: many who had rebelled at home had
served him abroad: but above all, there were those who had never for a
moment, through so many dreadful trials of their constancy and loyalty,
lost sight of their allegiance, and whose claims were therefore the
most undoubted on every consideration. To satisfy these various
demands, and to extricate himself from the weariness of business and
the vexatious intrusion of complaint, the king was willing to sacrifice
his own lands in Ireland. By the exertions of the earl of Orrery and
others, a calculation of disposable lands was presently made, and a
declaration already noticed,* published by the king. It was trans-
mitted to the lords-justices, with instructions for putting it into exe-
cution. Its effect was to produce general dissatisfaction and remon-
strance: those who had least claim to consideration were those who
had most reason for content, as it was rather framed for conciliation
than for justice. Among those whose case included the severest
hardships, was a large portion of the Roman Catholic body, which
had either taken no part, or a part manifestly enforced in the rebel-

* Historical Introduction, p. 27. This declaration failed to satisfy, as much
hy the concession of lands belonging to loyal subjects which had been taken pos-
session of by the soldiers of Cromwell in lieu of pay during the rebellion, as from
any or indeed all other causes.

238 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

lion. Justice manifestly demanded a full consideration of their rights,
and such accordingly was not formally denied; but practically, all
distinctions in their favour were encumbered with difficulties of an
obvious nature, and these difficulties were aggravated by the opera-
tion of prejudices against them, which were partly founded in realities
too obvious not to have imposing effect, and partly in the interested hos-
tility of their opponents. They complained of the rigour of conditions,
which made it impossible for any accused papist to prove bis inno-
cence, and justly complained that the conduct which was now decided as
proving their disloyalty had not been matter of choice : that the lords-
justices had excluded them alike from the service or from the protec-
tion of the crown, and compelled them to reside in the quarters of the
rebels, who possessed for a long time the most considerable parts of
the country. The answers to this remonstrance would, if recited, only
serve to show the lengths to which sophistry may be ventured in sup-
port of open injustice. Among other fallacies, the necessity of assum-
ing the mere fact of residence as a sufficient test was asserted on the
peculiarly self-destroying ground, that in most cases there could be
no other test; a statement which seems to involve the abandonment of
the charge. But we dwell on these facts here only because they illus-
trate the real tendency of rebellion to draw down a frightful amount
of retributive consequences upon a people. The prejudice which it
awakens at a distance, where its guilt and horrors alone can reach,
without any extenuating facts, is a permanent evil, against which a
moment's reflection will show there is no counteraction in the nature
of things ; for while the report of crime and disorder travels far and
finds numerous records, quiet honesty and good conduct make no re-
port and find no place in history; and in the din and rumour of national
insurrections, all who are involved must be considered as parties
engaged : and this moral necessity is in the present case much increased
by the fact, that the agency of ecclesiastical intrigue, and of the
motives of a religious party, must, in the apprehension of the spectator,
have seemed to identify the creed itself with the cause, and the Roman
Catholic laity with the corporate politics of their hierarchy.

The Irish parliament was convened to pass the declaration into an
enactment. The constitution of this parliament was regulated by the
actual possession of the lands: being mainly composed of adven-
turers who had by several means obtained large estates of which the
titles were either wrongful, uncertain, or requiring confirmation, their
first and main effort was to secure the advantage which they held; and
in this they were successful, so far as their possessions can be regarded
as liable to the danger they feared. They also made some strong but
not equally successful efforts, to secure the interests of the protestant
established church in Ireland against the other protestant denomina-
tions which were then striving to obtain the ascendancy. On the
discussion of the king's declaration, it found cordial support from a
body whose objects it favoured, and accordingly the commons were in
its favour; but it excited the indignation of the lords, who saw that
its effect must be the destruction of the most ancient and noblest fami-
lies in the kingdom. They put forward many strong objections, and
clearly exposed the manifold grievances and wrongs which such provi-

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 239

sions as it contained must have inflicted on unoffending thousands:
and affirmed that the king' had issued his declaration on misinforma-
tion. Among other objections, they examined the proceedings of
the court of claims, which they found to be dilatory, inefficient, and
corrupt; but above all, they exposed in strong colours the iniquities
of the " doubling ordinance" a project set on foot by the parliament
during the great rebellion, in order to levy money by a loan on Irish
forfeitures. For this it had been enacted that every adventurer who
should advance one-fourth more than his original adventure should have
it doubled on account, and receive Irish lands according to his claim
so increased. It was computed that by this unauthorized compact, the
lands lost to the king would amount to 142,000 acres. A clause was
introduced into the bill with the king's consent, that the adventurers
should receive lands to the precise amount of the actual payments they
had made. The bill was, after various delays, drawn up and trans-
mitted to the lords-justices, who made several alterations of their own,
and then sent it over to England to be finally examined and confirmed.
The struggle of parties was thus transferred to England; and, con-
sidering the history of previous events and the state of opinion there,
the cause could hardly have been carried into a court less disposed to
equity. The deeds of the previous rebellion had impressed England
with horror and contempt: the Irish party was without support, and des-
titute of prudence, discretion, or money: their enemies had all of these.
The adventurers, as the purchasers of Irish lands have been technically
called, had raised a large sum by subscription among themselves for
the support of their claims.

In this state of affairs the Irish party had but one resource, and
that in their infatuation they cast from them. The duke of Ormonde's
influence, his tried love of justice, his temper, moderation, and disin-
terested character, all marked him as the fit advocate of those who
had strong equitable claims and no friends. His advice was offered
and his aid volunteered. His opinion was strongly expressed in a
letter to Sir M. Eustace, who was an earnest advocate in their behalf,
and is worthy of notice here : — " We are," says he, " in the heat of
our debates upon the great bill ; and I fear the liberty allowed the
Irish to speak for themselves, will turn to their prejudice, by the un-
skilful use they make of it, in justifying themselves, instructing the
king and council what is good for them, and recriminating of others :
whereas, a modest extenuation of their crimes, an humble submission
to, and imploring his majesty's grace, and a declaration of their hearty
desire to live quietly and brotherly with their fellow-subjects for the
future, would better have befitted the disadvantages they were under,
and have prevailed more than all their eloquence. But it is long
since I have given over any hope that they would do, or be advised to
do what was best for them, or be persuaded that what might properly,
and for their advantage be said by others, would not only change its
nature coming from them, but hinder others from making use of their
arguments, lest they might be suspected of communicating counsels
with them; which is a reproach I will avoid almost as much as I will
the guilt of being of their party."

In opposition to the advice of the duke, the Irish agents took a lofty

240

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

and arrogant tone, and threw themselves wholly on their merits.
There were among them individuals whose enmity to the duke excited
them to take all those means to hurt his reputation, which are ever
so easily used, and so available among the multitude. His advice was
imputed to his wish to sink the real merits of their cause: his well-
known zeal for the protestant religion, so broadly marked in the
whole conduct of his life, gave force to the base insinuation of a mo-
tive which was only worthy of the person by whom it was suggested.
Instead of gratitude, the duke met insult and calumny, which wounded
his feelinffs, though it could not affect a character which stood hin-h.
above the range of such base missiles. The consequence was, that
although he frequently interposed by his vote and influence to prevent
injustice, which could be prevented in no other way, he studiously
avoided taking any public part in the business of the settlement. " He
adhered," says Carte, " so firmly to this resolution, that I do not find
he was one of any committee to which that matter was referred by the
council, until after he was made lord-lieutenant; reserving himself,
however, for his particular friends, and such as having adhered to the
peace, applied to him for certificates of their behaviour, and for his
interposition in their behalf, which he never declined, being always
ready to do them all the good offices in his power, as often as occa-
sions offered."* The Irish party were wholly unsuccessful in their
most especial efforts ; and, as we have said, attributing their ill success
to the private influence of the duke, they sent one of their agents to
remonstrate with his grace. The gentleman who was sent on this
errand conducted himself with such insolence, that he was sent to the
Tower, but released on submission-!

The difficulties which arose in the inquiries which followed, and the
serious obstacles which presented themselves to any effort at a satis-
factory adjustment of claims, so opposite, and attended with so many
perplexing considerations, led the king to the determination of sending
over a lord-lieutenant. The duke of Albemarle was reluctant to be-
come the arbiter of so many jarring interests and conflicting parties.
He expressed to the king his dislike to the post, and strongly urged
that the duke of Ormonde alone was competent to the execution of
the desired settlement. Unfortunately for the duke, he could not
shrink from an office which had upon him all the strong claims of the
most peremptory obligation; and on the 6th Nov., 1661, he was de-
clared lord-lieutenant in the council. His own sentiments on the
appointment are expressed in the following extract from one of his
private letters: — "You are pleased to concern yourself so much
in my fortune, as to congratulate with me the addition of honour the
king thought fit to place in my family, when he made me duke.
The same friendship will dispose you now to condole with me for the
very uneasy service he has designed to appoint for me in Ireland, as
his lieutenant. In that employment, besides many other unpleasant
difficulties, there are two disadvantages proper to me; one of the con-
tending parties believing I owe them more kindness and protection
than I can find myself chargeable with, and the other suspecting that

• Carte, ii. p. 236.

f Carte. Southwell.

I retain that prejudice to them which I am as free from. This tem-
per in them will be attended, undeniably, with clamour and scandal
upon my most wary deportment."

The account of this appointment gave general satisfaction in Ire-
land to all respectable persons who were not deeply connected with
the movements of the more violent parties. All whose desires were
confined to justice, or who felt confidence in the equity of their claims,
were satisfied that no zeal of political feeling would interfere with the
conduct of the duke of Ormonde: an advantage then not likely to be
realized in any other person. Minds of an inferior stamp would be
expected to act more decidedly from party views: and persons wholly
disinterested in Irish affairs were prejudiced against the Irish. In
Dublin, public rejoicings followed the intelligence — the provost and
fellows expressed their joy in a latin epistle; the houses of parliament
and convocation did the same, by letters and addresses.

In the mean time, the discussion of the Irish settlement continued
to be carried on with increasing perplexity and acrimony before the
council. As it proceeded, it began soon to appear that the first
design of the king's declaration could not be carried into operation, as
it was made under a false assumption, that the lands at the king's
disposal would suffice for the satisfaction of all admissible claims: but
it presently appeared that the whole island would be insufficient, and
it became an anxious question upon whom the loss should fall. The
arguments which were advanced on either side need not be repeated
here; some of them are obvious, and some but specious. But among
these, one at least was uufortunate for the cause of the Irish party,
who were by far the more violent in their entire conduct through this
controversy; from pleas of right the parties went on to mutual accu-
sations. The Irish advocates were thus unwittingly betrayed, not
merely into offending powerful parties by whose influence the decision
might readily be governed, but in fact they thus raised topics
which every party in England was anxious and willing to forget, and
of which the very discussion was calculated to awaken uneasy appre-
hensions in the king and his friends. The horrors and atrocities of
the Irish rebellion were retorted with all the effect which their recent
impression but too well favoured ; and the various communications which
had been made with the court of liome became also a fatal weapon.
In reply to several jiapers presented by the Irish committee, the com-
missioners of the Irish parliament sent in several writings of this preju-
dicial nature, and containing " instructions given by the supreme coun-
cil of Ireland to the bishop of Ferns and Sir Nicholas Plunket, their
agents to the court of Rome, bearing date, Jan. 18, 1667 ; a draught of
instructions to France and Spain, and a copy of the excommunication
published in Jamestown." These papers were, by order of the com-
mittee, presented to the king and council, and the king was so violently
incensed at their contents, that an order was entered, that " no petition
or further address be made from the Roman catholics of Ireland, as
to the bill of settlement, but that the bill for the act of settlement go
on to be engrossed without any further delay, according as is already
concluded ; that Sir N. Plunket have notice given him, that his
majesty's pleasure is, that he forbear to come into his presence and

II. Q lr,

242 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

appear at court any more; and that Mr Solicitor send all the provisos
allowed of by the committee to be engrossed, and that the Irish make
no more addresses, and that this be signified in letters to their friends
in Ireland." Thus ended the debates in behalf of the Irish; and the
bill, which had by these debates been long delayed, to the great
uneasiness of the parliament of Ireland, was after the settling of some
further provisos finished at last, and being sent over, passed the two
houses at the latter end of May.

The Irish parliament appointed Sir T. Jones, Sir Paul Davies, Sir
James Ware, Sir H. Tichburne and others, to attend the lords-
justices, and request of them to prepare and transmit a bill for raising
the sum of £30,000 for the Duke, on his accepting of the government,
to demonstrate the sense of the kingdom, and in consideration of his
" vast losses" in the service of Ireland. The duke's arrival in Ireland
was deferred, on account of the approaching nuptials of the king with
the Infanta of Portugal; a match against which the duke had strongly
but vainly protested. His objections, together with those of the
chancellor and the earl of Southampton!, were listened to by the king
in Tom Chiffin's closet, of which so graphic a sketch has been drawn
by the pen of Scott.* They remonstrated with him, on the score of
the religion of the princess, and the king replied, there were no pro-
testant princesses fit for him to marry: it was replied that there were
princesses enough in Germany, but the king answered in his lively
style, " cod's fish, they are all foggy, and he could not like any of them
for a wife;" upon this, says Carte, "the duke was satisfied that he
would marry none but a Roman catholic"! To this Carte adds a
curious story of the accident by which the duke had first discovered
the secret of the king's religion. " The king had carefully concealed
that change from the duke of Ormonde, who yet discovered it by
accident. The duke had some suspicions of it from the time that
they removed from Cologne into Flanders; for though he never
observed that zeal and concern as to divine thing's which he often
wished in the king, yet so much as appeared in him at any time
looked that way. However, he thought it so very little that he hoped
it would soon wear off upon returning to his kingdoms, and was not
fully convinced of his change, till about the time the treaty of the
Pyrenees was going to be opened. The duke was always a very early
riser, and being then at Brussels, used to amuse himself at times that
others were in bed, in walking about the town and seeing the churches.
Going one morning very early by a church, where a great number of
persons were at their devotions, he stepped in; and advancing near
the altar, he saw the king on his knees at mass. He readily imagined
h's majesty would not be pleased that he should see him there, and
therefore retired as cautiously as he could, went to a different part of
the church, near another altar, where nobody was, kneeled down, and
said his own prayers till the king was gone." At the period of this
occurrence, considerable anxiety prevailed among the king's friends
on the subject of his religion: some were of opinion that his open
conformity to the church of Rome would have the advantageous effect

• Peveril of the Peak. f Carte, ii. If>4.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 243

of obtaining' for him the sincere assistance of the Roman catholic
courts: while others, among whom was the duke, with more sagacity
saw that such a step would entirely put an end to all his hopes.
Some therefore urged him to declare himself, while others who would
not even appear to think it possible that he had turned to the Roman
church, yet endeavoured to counteract them by wiser counsel. The
king was himself indifferent to all creeds, further than as they could
be moulded to the shape of his inclinations, and with the ordinary
mixture of ingenuity and flippancy which composes the character of
the latitudinarian's intellect, had a convenient creed of his own : in a
word, he amused himself by the assumption, that God must be so mer-
ciful as to forgive the most direct disobedience of the whole letter and
spirit of his positive laws, and that he might therefore freely indulge
the inclinations of a most abandoned and proflig'ate nature, provided
he exercised an occasional private devotion, which must of course
have been a strange compound of mockeries and contradictions. The
duke, who had kept the secret of his change of persuasion until after
the restoration, then communicated it to the earl of Southampton, and
they considered how they might best prevent any of the consequences
which were to be apprehended. For this purpose they contrived to
have a clause inserted in the act, that was passed for the security of
the king's person and government, making it a premunire for any one
to say the " king was a papist."

The duke was long detained from his duties in Ireland, by those of
his office of lord-steward, which required that he should meet the
queen on her landing at Portsmouth, and after by the arrangements
and ceremonies attendant upon the royal marriage, so that the summer
was far advanced when he was at liberty to depart, for Ireland. The
numerous company of Irish nobility and gentry which had been drawn
to London in prosecution of their claims, accompanied him, and formed
a train of splendour never before or since approached in the journev
of a lieutenant to his government: and his reception in Dublin, no
less remarkable for its magnificence than for the public enthusiasm it
called forth, is called " an epitome of the restoration" by Carte.

The act of settlement now passed, and was accompanied by a long
speech from the Duke, who expounded its provisions with their reason
or necessity in such a manner as to place every thing in the most con-
ciliatory aspect. His speech was printed by order of the house. The
recess followed and he went to Kilkenny, where his daughter, lady
Mary Butler, was married in October to lord Cavendish.

Notwithstanding the anxious precautions and explanations of the
duke, the act of settlement gave very general, and in many respects
justifiable discontent. Among those whose complaints were most
grounded in real wrong, were the officers called the forty-nine men,
who had loyally and strenuously served the king against the rebels on
every side, without ever having received any pay, and whose arrears
were unquestionably the prior claim on both the justice and gratitude
of the king; but so numerous and so large were the grants into
which he had been inadvertently led, that there were not in fact
means over and above the restorations which justice demanded, and
those iniquitous appropriations. Among these, the earl of Leicester

244 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

whose service had been but nominal, contrived to have £50,000 under
the claim of arrears, charged upon the security of the lands for the
purpose of arrears, and Sir W. Petty, obtained large grants of the
same lands. So great indeed and so unquestionable was the injustice
done to this meritorious and suffering class of claimants, that a bill
was brought in to provide for their security.

The duke was doomed on the present, as on the former occasion,
and as indeed through every stage of his life, to suffer by his own
excessive disinterestedness, and by a public spirit which appears to
have set aside all private considerations. Among his first acts, the
most urgent and essential was the purgation of the army, from the dregs
of the republican and fanatic spirit which rendered it less available
for the immediate service. To effect this, money to a large amount
was necessary ; but from the circumstances already explained, it will be
understood, that of money there was no provision and but little prospect.
The duke met the emergency, as in former times, by a large disburse-
ment from his private estate — at a time when others were endeavour-
ing- to secure whatever could be grasped by any effort. The necessity
appears not indeed to have been slight for this step; for, not to speak
of the rumours of meditated insurrection in Ireland, for which little
spirit remained, there was a strong party in England, still hostile to
the restoration, and willing, should they find means, to raise a popular
insurrection. These, and not without reason, boasted of having 8000
men in the Irish army ready to join in the attempt to throw off the pre-
sent royal family, and declare a commonwealth : a design favoured by
the discontents which the act of uniformity caused among the puritans,
whose clergy generally declai'ed, that they would resign their benefices,
sooner than conform — a declaration to which they for the most part
adhered. We shall notice these particulars in a future stage.

The commissioners appointed for the execution of the settlement,
having been objected to on the fair ground that they were parties
concerned, another commission was appointed, of competent English
lawyers and gentlemen having no interest in Ireland. Their awards
were too impartial to please a larg-e portion of the claimants, which
comprised chiefly these adventurers and soldiers whose claims were
either founded on usurpation, or upon their service under the common-
wealth. The first cases disposed of were those of the Irish, who had
been undeservedly dispossessed of their estates: on this claim the num-
bers who came forward and made good their claims, by proving their
innocence, was great beyond the expectations or the wish of the
adventurers, who became discontented and alarmed, and in conse-
quence soon began to express their complaints, and plot resistance.
Many of Cromwell's officers conspired to effect an armed rising, and
appointed a committee for its direction : among the officers appointed
upon this committee, one (a Mr T. Alden,) disclosed the secret through
his friend colonel Vernon, and by the same channel gave intelligence
from time to time of their proceedings. Among the conspirators
were some officers who conceived the notion of surprising the castle ;
Mr Alden gave warning of their intention, but mentioned a time
farther off than afterwards turned out to be the time actually fixed;
as captain Unlet and lieutenant Turet, who had probably at first fixed

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 245

upon the 9th or 10th of March, according- to the information, saw
reasons to expedite their design. On the 5th of that month, a com-
pany was to mount guard, among whom they reckoned on fifty men,
and a sergeant: they also contrived to obtain arms and powder from
the store, by practising upon the simplicity or knavery of the store-
keeper's boy, and made up their minds to attempt the castle on that
night by the gate that opens towards Ship street. Alden learned
this change of purpose on the very day; but as colonel Vernon was
out of the way, he found no means to convey his intelligence to the
duke of Ormonde. Fortunately, the duke had himself received notice
the day before, from a person named Hopkins, whom Turet had
engaged to join. Such preparations were made as could not have
failed to repel the attempt, but the conspirators themselves were
apprised of the discovery of their design and made no attack. Some
of them fled for their lives, and others were taken; but their informa-
tion was unsatisfactory, as they were not persons who had been trusted
by the leading conspirators.

Among the troublesome occurrences of this period of the duke's
life, not the least was caused by the exhibition of the same refractory
spirit in the House of Commons. An address was presented to him, in
which this branch of parliament embodied the complaints of the adven-
turers and Cromwellians. They complained of the liberal and strictly
equitable proceedings of the commissioners, and proposed a new method
of conducting the cases, which would soon have restored the griping
and corrupt decisions of the parliamentary courts. In the cases which
came usually before the court, the plaintiff was the person whose
innocency was to be proved, and the defendant he who was actually in
possession of his lands. They now proposed that the king should be a
party, and no decision made before the attorney-general should have
been heard against the plaintiff. To this absurd and anomalous ex-
pedient, it was in addition proposed, that the cases should be tried by
juries, so described, as in effect to give the decision to the persons
most interested, either by claim or party. Other regulations respecting
the nature of the evidence, and others limiting the lands and the claims,
were proposed, and to the whole was tacked the false proposition, that
the maintenance of the Protestant, religion was dependent on the adop-
tion of such proposals. The duke saw the injustice of these arrange-
ments and was also much vexed and disgusted by the insidiousness and
fallacy- of this attempt to connect the church, which it was his main
policy and desire to maintain, with such flagitious demands. The duke
received their address coldly, and told them it should be taken into con-
sideration. They were dissatisfied with this reply, and caused Sir A. Mer-
vyn's speech, in which the address had been moved, to be printed. The
king caused the printer to be taken up, and expressed his disapprobation
in strong terms: and the duke wrote a letter to the parliament, in which
he forcibly exposed the folly and mischief of their proceedings. They
had, he represented, suggested the dangerous notion, that the protes-
tant interest was in danger, in consequence of which many respectable
protestants had received an alarm highly pernicious to that interest, as
it both prevented English protestants from looking for settlements in
Ireland, and caused many to sell at low rates the estates they had.

246 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

He explained to them the truth so obvious, and yet seemingly so hardly
received, that the country only wanted peace to ensure the growth of
universal prosperity: while the rights and interests of every class must
suffer by the perpetuation of disunion and discontent. The commons
retracted their proceeding, declared their abhorrence of the recent
plot, acknowledged the lord-lieutenant's great care and vigilance in
defeating it, and pledged themselves to support him with their lives
and fortunes, in the maintenance of the royal authority.

Notwithstanding the check which it thus received, the main conspir-
acy went on with unremitting activity. The time of insurrection was
fixed for May 25th, when the castles of Dublin, Drogheda, Derry, and
other places of strength, were by simultaneous movements to be seized.
There were meetings and consultations in Dublin and several parts
of the country, to ensure the means and regulate the proceedings :
several members of parliament, lawyers and military officers, were
engaged in the undertaking, among- whom the most active were a
presbyterian minister, named Lackie, and a person of the name of Blood,
who passed frequently into Scotland, under the hope of drawing the
Scotch into the rebellion. Sir A. Forbes was sent down into the
north, and soon succeeded in obtaining extensive intelligence of their
proceedings, which were disconcerted by the arrest of major Staples,
who had charge of the execution of the plan which they had concerted
for the seizure of the towns. On the arrest of Staples, the greater
part of the northern conspirators fled into Scotland.

In Munster the proceedings of the conspiracy were scarcely less
active. A short extract will convey in the briefest form a view of
the hopes, designs, and dependency of the persons engaged in it.
("arte represents one of these, colonel Jephson, as explaining to Sir
Theophilus Jones, whom he was anxious to gain to the party, " that
they did not want an army, for there were 15,000 Scots excommuni-
cated by the bishops in the north, who were ready within two days,
and they doubted not but their own army would join them; that they
had a bank of money in Dublin, sufficient to pay off all the arrears of
the army, both in Oliver's time, and since the king's return, but he
could not tell from whence it came, unless from Holland ; that he had
seen three or four firkins of it carried into Mr Boyd's house, and he
could himself command £500 out of that bank the next day; that they
had a wise council of considerable persons, such as would not be readily
guessed at, who managed the business, and any body who should see
the scheme, which Avas particularly set down in writing, would be
convinced of its exactness ; that Mr Roberts, who was auditor under
Cromwell, had been for two months casting* up the arrears of the
army, and had now perfected the account, so that it was known what
was due to every one, and such as would join them should be paid off
everywhere; that there were 1000 horse in Dublin for securing the
city, and Henry Ingolsby was to appear with them as soon as the
castle was taken, and a flag put up, of which they no way doubted;
that they intended to offer no violence to any but such as opposed
them; that the duke of Ormonde's person was to be seized, but to be
civilly treated; that several other persons were to be secured, and par-

THE BUTLERS—JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 247

ticularly he himself was to seize the earl of CJancarty, and colonel
Fitz-Patrick; that every party had their particular orders to surprise
each of the guards of the city; that one MacCormack was a great
person in the action, and there were six ministers that went about
Dublin in perukes, but laid them by when they were at prayers, and
these were to be in the streets, to see that no plunder or disorder
should be committed; that they had a declaration, of which many
thousand copies were printed, ready to be dispersed, declaring that
their undertaking was for securing the English interest, and the three
kingdoms which were going- to ruin by the countenance given to
popery ; that all the English should enjoy such estates as they possessed
on 1st May, 1659; that religion should be settled according to the
solemn league and covenant." He added, " that they would overturn
the three kingdoms, and that the word which was to be given on
the taking of the castle was, ' For the king and English interest.'"*
Jones, without the loss of a moment, wrote down the heads of this con-
versation, which he disclosed next day to the duke.

The plan for the surprise of Dublin castle was one which, without
some previous warning", would most probably have succeeded. Several
persons were to loiter into the castle yard, separately, as having
petitions, or on some other fair pretence, while eighty foot soldiers,
disguised as mechanics and trades' people, were to remain outside, dis-
persed in different small groups, or with the appearance of idle loiter-
ers, so as not to attract notice, until they should receive the signal
concerted: this was to be given by a baker carrying a large basket of
bread, who was to stumble in the gateway: it was supposed that the
guards in the gateway would immediately scramble for the bread, and
thus offer a full opportunity for the disguised assailants to force their
way in before the nature of their proceedings could be suspected.
Within twelve hours of the time appointed for this exploit, the chief
conspirators were all arrested by orders from the duke of Ormonde ;
and the few of less importance who escaped, were actively searched
for. Among these latter, the most remarkable was Blood, the most
daring, unscrupulous, and active of all the conspirators ; this desperado
found shelter for a time in Antrim, and afterwards among the moun-
tains of Ulster, where he pretended to be a priest. From thence he
reached the county of Wicklow, where he lurked for a while, and
under various names and disguises, travelled through the kingdom,
endeavouring to reunite and revive the conspiracy. He expressed
himself strongly on the advantage they would gain if the duke of
Ormonde should be slain, asserting that his death would be of more
importance than the possession of the castle of Dublin; and the im-
pression soon became very much diffused that he would himself be
very likely to assassinate the duke.f

The duke was very anxious to treat his prisoners with lenity, and a
few who frankly acknowledged their guilt, he pardoned : but a notion
had circulated, that conspiring to levy war was not treason, unless
pursued into overt acts of rebellion; and it was felt to be essential to

• Carte, II. 267. t Carte.

248 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

the peace of the kingdom, that this dangerous delusion should be
removed by some examples. Bills were found against five of the
prisoners, who were tried and found guilty, upon the evidence of seve-
ral, most of whom had been engaged in the same conspiracy. These
persons were executed.

The people of Ireland were in every quarter deeply anxious for
quiet, there existed among them not the slightest tendency to disaf-
fected feeling: and there was moreover a sincere and universal sense
of affection and respect for the duke of Ormonde diffused among every
class, with the slight yet dangerous exception of the remains of the re-
publican party. This, most unhappily indeed, still composed the chief
material of the army in both countries. The duke was anxious to adopt
the only direct remedy, which was the purgation of the army ; but money
was wanting, and he was thus involved in great embarrassments. He
made a progress into Ulster, by his presence to awe the disaffected,
revive loyal feelings, and give confidence to the apprehensions of the
peaceable ; and felt himself also under the necessity of employing
agents to watch the proceedings of those parties who were suspected
of any dangerous design.

Among the embarrassments to which the duke was at this period
subject, not the least perplexing or eventually pernicious to his per-
sonal interest, arose from the enmities excited by his straight and
unswerving integrity in the employment of his patronage. The cour-
tiers of Charles, who grasped at every office of emolument or trust,
resented the refusals of the duke to mix himself in their low intrigues
for preferment, and his disposal of the commands under his own ap-
pointment, to individuals whose claims were those only of fair and meri-
torious service. Among the enemies which he thus made for himself,
the most conspicuous for talent, station, and court favour, was Sir H.
Bennet, who had first to no purpose endeavoured to draw the duke
into a cabal to make him secretary of state. While he was digesting
his discontent at the duke's neutrality in this affair, the death of lord
Falkland left a troop of horse at the disposal of the duke, and it was
applied for by Bennet, for his brother, who had never been in Ireland.
The king expressed great anxiety that the duke should take the oppor-
tunity thus afforded of conciliating Bennet: but the duke gave the
troop to lord Callan, whose claim was that of long and active service.
He had already refused it to his own son, the lord John Butler, and
wrote to his friend, Daniel O'Neile, at the English court, a letter on
the subject, in which among other things he says — " I think I told him
(I am sure I might have done it truly) that many who had been
deservedly officers of the field amongst the horse, and some colonels,
were, with great industry and earnestness, desiring to be lieutenants
of horse, and that he who was lieutenant of that (Sir T. Arm-
strong's) troop, had long, faithfully, and stoutly, served as major of
horse. Figure to yourself how he and the rest would take it, to have
a man never heard of, and who never was more than a captain of foot,
made captain of horse over their heads ; and then consider, if my part
he not hard, that must lose a friendship, because I will not counte-
nance so disobliging a pretension; and all the while, what is my con-

t

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 249

cernment or advantage, but the discharge of my duty? If Mr Secre-
tary's brother were near upon a level with other pretenders, and I
should not supply what were wanting in consideration of him, he had
reason to reproach me with want of friendship ; but sure it will be hard
to live well with him, if the frankness of my proceeding with him shall
be esteemed injurious, to be remembered upon all occasions, and retri-
buted by crossing my desires, when they aim at just things, and such
as tend to the king's service."

The countess of Castlemaine — whose unworthy interest with the
libertine king gave her a power which fortunately she had not under-
standing to exert as perniciously as she might — contrived to obtain a
letter for passing to herself a grant of the Phoenix Park and Lodge.
The duke refused to pass the warrant, and stopped the grant. By a
strong remonstrance he changed the king's purpose, and persuaded him
to enlarge the park by a purchase of 450 acres, and assign the house
for the accommodation of the lords-lieutenant of Ireland. When the
duke next visited England, the lady who was thus disappointed, assailed
him at court with torrents of the most pestiferous abuse, and concluded
by expressing her hope to see him hanged: the duke listened to her
invective without showing any appearance of concern, and in reply to
the concluding compliment, told her, that he " did not feel the same
wish to put an end to her days, and only wished he might live to see
her an old woman."

Another remarkable instance in which the duke drew upon himself
a heavy discharge of court enmity, was the case of the iharquess of
Antrim; but the particulars would demand far more space than we
can here afford. This marquess was making suit at court for the
restoration of his large estates which were forfeited in the recent re-
bellion, and in the hands of adventurers. The queen mother was
his zealous friend, and determined to support his suit. The interest
of the duke was looked for, or at least the weight of his sanction was
thought a necessary corroboration of such a claim. The duke was reluc-
tant to oppose the queen, or to take upon himself the invidious office of
pressing the unworthiness of the marquess; yet it was still more repug-
nant to his sense of honour to be brought into a court intrigue for
the perversion of justice, and he represented that their object could be
easily effected without his mediation, which he could not offer without
compromising his regard for truth. He was charged by the marquess'
friends with enmity, and by his own enemies it was imputed to him, that
he was privately using his influence in favour of the marquess, though he
publicly affected to oppose him. The duke defended himself from both of
these charges; an extract from his letter to a friend, expressing his own
sentiment, is the most we can here afford to add upon the subject: —
" I am still really persuaded of my lord St Alban's friendship to me, and
that belief receives no abatement by his endeavours for the saving of
my lord Antrim's estate. For it were as unreasonable to expect a
friend should think always as I do, as that he should have the same
voice, or coloured beard. I confess I cannot find any obligation, that
was upon the late king, or that is upon this, to do extraordinary
things for my lord of Antrim ; and I am sure there neither were nor

250 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

arp any upon me, but the queen mother's commands, and my lord St
Alban's interposition, upon both which I set the value I ought. In
tins particular, and in that of the bill,* people take me to be more
concerned than I am. They know me not, and traduce me that say I
interiourly wish his restitution ; and that though publickly I oppose it,
yet privately I assist him. On the other side they as much mistake
me, that believe I affect his ruin, and an enmity with him. The first
were unchristian, and the other a very pitiable ambition. I have been
civil, as I ought to be, to his lady, when she made applications to me ;
and this must be taken for helping her lord. In my dispatches I have
freely spoken truth concerning him and his business ; and that is taken
for hatred of him; but neither truly. My lord chancellor Bacon says
in one of his essays, that there are men will set their houses on fire to
roast their eggs. They are dangerous cattle, if they can disguise
themselves under plausible pretences. I have done all I conceive belongs
to me to do in the business of my lord Antrim. I cannot unsay what
I have said in it till I am convinced of error: but if I be asked no
more questions about him, I can and will hold my peace."

The act of settlement was unattended by the expected result, and only
gave rise to endless clamour and litigation. An explanation bill was
ordered to be prepared, and was rejected by the king, who referred
the subject to the consideration of the lord-lieutenant and his council,
to whom he gave orders to frame a new bill, so as to give the utmost
attainable satisfaction to all who had any reasonable claim. The duke
proceeded with his characteristic impartiality and caution, excluding
the expectations of those who might not unreasonably have looked
upon him as the head of their party, and only contemplating the claims
of justice limited by the consideration of what was practicable and
expedient for the general welfare of the country. It was endeavoured
to secure the " forty-nine" officers — to lower the claims of adventurers
— and to increase the fund for the redress of those whom the late
court of claims had left unprovided for. A new bill on these prin-
ciples was framed and transmitted; the several parties interested once
more sent their advocates to London; and the presence of the duke
being considered necessary, he committed the government to lord
Ossory and also went over.

On his arrival, an order of council was made, that he should call to
his aid such of the Irish privy council as were in London, with the
commissioners for claims, &c, and with them carefully review the
deliberations which had been entered into on Irish affairs, and advise
what corrections or additions should appear expedient and just. This
council met in August, and so considerable was the mass of papers, and
representations, and petitions, of parties concerned, which they had to
investigate, that their task was not ended till 26th May following.
The several parties concerned made their proposals, in which, while
all seem to have taken for a basis the same general view of their respec-
tive rights, each still proposed such an adjustment as best appeared to
favour their separate demands: the main proposers were the Roman
catholics, the soldiers and adventurers; and in looking closely into the

* The bill of explanation then transmitted into England.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE 251

detailed statement of their proposals, we are not prepared to assert that
there was not on every side manifested as much fairness and regard to the
fair claims of the others, as can be expected in every case of human op-
position.* The contention was decided by the offer of the Roman catho-
lics, who proposed that if the soldiers and adventurers would consent
to part with one-third of the lands respectively enjoyed by them, on
the claim of adventures and service on May 7, 1659; they were ready
to agree to their general proposal. The proposal was accepted by all
parties, and on the 18th May, 1665, in conformity with this general
consent, it was ordered, " that the adventurers and soldiers should have
two-thirds of the lands whereof they stood possessed, on May 1, 1659;
that the Connaught purchasers should have two-thirds of what was in
their possession, in September, 1663; that what any person wanted of
his two-thirds should be supplied, and whatever he had more should
be taken from him; and the adventurers and soldiers should make their
election where the overplus should be retrenched, and the forty-nine
men should be entirely established in their present possessions."! On
these resolutions the act was drawn up. The last step was the addi-
tion of a list of twenty nominees, whom the king was by name to re-
store to their estates. For this the lord-lieutenant presented several
lists of persons held worthy of the king's favour by the earl of Clan-
carty, earl of Athenry, &c, &c. The king referred these back to the
lord-lieutenant to select twenty such names as might seem to him most
fit for that preference — an invidious and disagreeable task to be per-
formed against the following day. The duke made out his list, and
though none of the names were objected against, there was much com-
plaint among the numerous persons who thought it a hardship to
be omitted. Among these, Sir Patrick Barnewall alone had some
reason for complaint, his claim having been such, that his name was
only left out, on the assurance that he would otherwise be restored.
He was undoubtedly " an innocent," but the court of claims had first
postponed the hearing of his case, and then by the explanatory act, all
claims were taken away from those whom that court had not declared
innocent: thus, by a concurrence of errors, a grievous injustice was
committed. He now applied to the duke, who made so strong a repre-
sentation to the king that he received a considerable pension for life.
But the greatest sufferer by these arrangements was the duke himself,
on whom the main weight of perplexity of Irish affairs always rested.
With all his great ability as a statesman, he was utterly devoid of a
prudent concern for his own affairs, and showed an improvidence
in the care of his estate, and a readiness to abandon his own rights
quite unparalleled in modern history. To supply the great deficiency
of lands and the delay of ascertaining the extent of forfeiture, which
perplexed the settlement, the duke consented to abandon large tracts
of his property. The proposal was made that he should accept
£5000 a-year in lieu of the whole of the forfeited parts of his estate:
this offer was strongly objected to by Mr Walsh, his agent, on the
ground that the lands were worth five times the sum: but the duke was
reluctant to allow any delay of the settlement resulting from any demur

* See Carte, II. 303. t Cane.

252 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

on his part, and consented. This was not all, — for besides making
this extraordinary sacrifice, a sum of £50,000, amounting not quite to
double the annual rental of the property thus resigned, was secured to
the duke, who allotted it for the payment of debts, chiefly incurred for
the interests of the kingdom. Of these, the more considerable part of
the securities, which had by forfeiture fallen to the crown, had been
restored to the duke in reward of his services — with a stretch of gene-
rosity far beyond the ordinary conduct of the noblest men, the duke
immediately wrote to Mr Walsh to pay off the whole. Such is but a
cursory sketch of the history of these great and singular acts of disinter-
estedness, which seem to have made so little just impression upon the
heated factions and unprincipled court-parties of his time. The neg-
lect is indeed but seeming; for in the midst of all the injustice and
rancour of those to whom the duke refused to be subservient, or the
discontent of those whom it was impossible to content, the respect for
his disinterestedness and integrity was universal. Nothing indeed more
remarkably attests the truth of this than the style of censure adopted
by those historians (for the most part recent,) whose political opinions
incapacitate them from comprehending his real motives of actions. A
tone of disparaging and captious insinuation wholly unsupported by
even an attempt at direct statement, meets the careless reader and ap.
peals to his prejudices, or conveys those of the writer, in some indirect
form of language, hinting wrong motives for right acts, or a construc-
tion of intentions diametrically at variance with every plain indication
both of conduct and profession; so that all the censures implied are uni-
formly in opposition to all the writer's facts. Such indeed is the proud
test which history affords of the merits of this great statesman and still
greater man : praise may be partial, but when the utmost reach of hos-
tility can only extract material for a little timid inconsistency of lan-
guage out of the history of a nobleman who stemmed the torrent of
every faction, and attracted all the hostility of the rebels, the fanatics,
and the unprincipled intriguers on every side; it surely speaks more for
the duke than the language of panegyric can say.

The bill of explanation was next to be carried through the Irish
parliament, a proceeding in which much difficulty was to be expected
from the high and exclusive temper of that body, mainly composed of
the adventurers, and generally of those parties which were in possession
of titles to property which was liable to be rendered questionable by the
bill. The duke left London, to prepare for this important affair: he
was compelled to remain for some time in Bristol, to compose the dis-
orders which had risen to a dangerous height in that city; and having
succeeded in restoring quiet to the citizens, he passed over from Mil-
ford Haven, and landed at Duncannon fort, from which he proceeded
to Kilkenny. The parliament was judiciously prorogued until the
26th October, to leave time for bringing round the more interested of
the members, of whom the greater part were to lose a third of their
claims: on the more moderate and public spirited of these the duke
might hope to prevail, and lord Orrery was popular among the more
violent, with whom he engaged to use his influence.

In the mean time the duke made his entry into Dublin, in a state
of magnificence far surpassing any thing known in that city before,

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 253

or long after, till the visit of George the Fourth. All that the taste
and wealth of the age could devise of magnificent and gorgeous was
lavished to swell the solemnity of the scene, and do honour to one who
had deserved so much, and from whom so much was yet looked for.
Sir Daniel Bellingham, the first lord mayor of Dublin,* exerted him-
self to give effect and direction to the zeal of every class. The par-
ticulars may interest many readers, we therefore add them here in the
words of Carte : " When his Grace was advanced within six miles of the
place, he was met by a gallant train of young gentlemen, well mounted,
and alike richly attired ; their habits of a kind of ash-colour, trimmed
with scarlet and silver, all in white scarfs, and commanded by one Mr
Corker, a deserving gentleman, employed in his majesty's revenue,
with other officers to complete the troop, which marched in excellent
order to the bounds of the city liberty, where they left his Grace to be
received by the sheriffs of the city who were attended by the cor-
porations in their stations; after the sheriffs had entertained his
Grace with a short speech, the citizens marched next; and after
the maiden troop, next to that his Grace's gentlemen; and then his
kettle drums and trumpets; after them the sheriffs of the city, bare-
headed, then the sergeants-at-arms and their pursuivants ; and in the
next place followed his Grace, accompanied by the nobility and
privy councillors of the kingdom ; after them the lifeguard of horse.
Within St James's gate his Grace was entertained by the lord mayor,
aldermen, and principal members of the city on the right hand, and
on the left stood six gladiators, stript, and drawn; next them his
Grace's guard of battle-axes ; before them his Majesty's company of the
royal regiment; the rest of the companies making a guard to the castle.
The king's company marched next; after the citizens; then the battle-
axes; and thus through a wonderful throng of people, till they came
to the conduit in the corn market, whence wine ran in abundance.
At the new hall was erected a scaffold, on which were placed half-a-
dozen anticks; by the tollsel was erected another scaffold, whereupon
was represented Ceres under a Canopy, attended by four virgins. At
the end of Castle street a third scaffold was erected, on which stood
Vulcan by his anvil, with four Cyclops asleep by it. And the last scaf-
fold was raised at the entrance into the castle gate, whereupon stood
Bacchus, with four or five good fellows. In fine, the whole ceremony
was performed, both upon the point of order and affection, to his Grace's
exceeding satisfaction, who was at last welcomed in the castle with
great and small shot; and so soon as the streets could be cleared of
coaches, (which was a good while first, for they were very many,) the
streets and the air were filled with fire-works, which were very well
managed to complete the entertainment."

It will not be necessary to go at length into the means which were
taken by the duke to carry the bill, against which there was entertained
in parliament so much personal reluctance. To impress them with
feelings of a more favourable kind, he first employed them for sixteen
days in a most apprehensive investigation on the recent insurrection,
in which several of their members had been implicated, and many could

'Carte, II. 313.

254 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

not avoid feeling the danger of being involved. The effect was salu-
tary, and they soon began to manifest a tone of mind more submissive
and favourable to that sacrifice of personal interests which the peace
of the kingdom demanded. And thus by considerable address, and
the seasonable interposition of topics, adapted to work on their fears,
the bill was passed with little demur, and received the royal assent on
December 23, 1 665. Five commissioners were appointed to carry it
into operation, with a constant appeal to the duke in cases of difficulty.
The discharge of this important duty continued for many years to load
him with embarrassments and vexations : and the more so as it was
his continual duty to interfere for the purpose of preventing the
alienation of the lands allotted for the purposes of the act, to influ-
ential parties who obtained private grants from the crown. Such
grants he steadily set aside, and thus created for himself innumerable
private enemies, dangerous from their influence and want of principle.
In 1663, the country gentlemen of England had been distressed by
a general fall in the price of cattle, and a consequent difficulty in ob-
taining their rents. This they attributed to the importation of Irish
and Scotch cattle and sheep, which on inquiry was found to be very
considerable: the average importation from Ireland alone having been
for many years sixty-one thousand head of black cattle. The House of
Commons had in consequence ordered a bill to prohibit this importa-
tion. This bill passed quickly through the Commons. The measure
had been carried with an anxious eagerness through the Commons,
and with a view to evade opposition, had in fact been smuggled through
as a clause in an "act for the encouragement of trade;" so that the
duke of Ormonde only received an intimation upon the subject while
it was passing through the upper house, and sent over the earl of
Anglesey to protest against it in his name, and that of the Irish
council. The act passed, and the destructive consequences were
soon felt in Ireland. The council of trade, formed by the duke in
Ireland, met to remonstrate upon this grievance: it was composed
of numerous gentlemen of fortune, and of the principal merchants;
from this body a strong remonstrance was transmitted to England.
They represented the disastrous consequences of such a prohibition
to Irish property, of which it so entirely destroyed the value, that all
the farmers would be under the necessity of throwing up their leases.
They pointed out the destructive effects which must also be sustained
by his majesty's customs, so that the expense of the Irish army and
civil list would be necessarily either wanting, to the total ruin of the
kingdom, or to be defrayed by large remittances from England. They
also shewed the injury which would be inflicted upon London, by a
law which would withdraw the whole Irish trade from that city; as
the entire stock of wines, clothes, and mostly all manufactured goods,
for the use of the Irish nobility and gentry, were purchased there on a
balf-yearly credit, maintained by the returns of the Irish produce sold in
England. They showed the suffering and inconvenience likely to ensue
among the trading towns in England, by the rise of the prices of beef
and mutton, and the consequent rise of wages. And further pointed out
the serious injury to be sustained by the shipping interests on the

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 256

western coast, chiefly maintained by the cattle and coal trade between
the two countries. Their remonstrance was transmitted by the earl
of Ossory and the Irish council, to the duke of Ormonde tben in Eng-
land on the business of the settlement. The duke enforced their
arguments with others derived from a more enlarged view of the poli-
tical state of Europe at the time. Having strongly dwelt upon the
unseasonableness of such an act, at a moment when Ireland had recently
emerged from ten years of destructive civil war which had almost anni-
hilated all her vital powers, he showed that by some law, or by the
operation of some circumstance, every other resource was either cut
off or reduced to little more than nominal: with Holland there was
war; with France war was impending; the act for the encouragement
of trade, shut them out from America; an English monopoly from the
Canary Islands. He also repeated with strong additional weight, the
forcible and home argument of the great loss which the revenue must
sustain. He showed that the English fattening lands, which were
mostly stocked from Ireland, must thus become a monopoly to the
breeders of cattle. He exposed the arguments on the opposite side,
and asserted that the consequences of which they complained were not
attributable to the importation of Irish cattle; he observed the manifest
absurdity of attributing the loss of £200,000, said to be sustained
by English landlords to the importation of cattle to the amount of
£140,000 from Ireland. He said that the recent revival of Lent in
England must have diminished the consumption; the drought of the
last summers must have hurt the farmers, the drain of emigration, the
ravage of the plague, the stoppage of trade by the war with Holland.
To all these reasons he added, that no such complaints had been heard
of till recently, thoug-h the Irish cattle trade had been of old standing
and had been much more considerable before the civil wars. Finally
he brought forward many reasons to show that the injury thus done to
Ireland must be eventually hurtful to England.

The king was convinced by these arguments, with many others
which we have not noticed here : but he was himself dependent upon
his commons, and had not the virtue or the firmness to oppose their
narrow and selfish policy. The bill met with considerable opposition
in the lords, where views of general policy were better understood,
and considerations of national justice had more weight. There the
earl of Castlehaven made a vigorous stand, and represented the great
benefit which the commerce of Ireland had received under the saga-
cious and energetic care of the duke of Ormonde, "greater (he justly
observed,) than it had experienced even from the earl of Strafford."
His exposition converted many; but nothing better than delay was
obtained. For the following three years the act continued to be the
subject of the most violent party opposition and court manoeuvre, and
after being strenuously combated by the duke and his friends at every
stage, and on every discussion, and feebly discountenanced by the king,
it was at last, when the house of lords showed the strongest inclination
to throw it out, carried through by the influence of the court and the
interest of the duke of York. The effects were such as had been pre-
dicted by the duke of Ormonde and the friends of Ireland, but eventu-

ally turned out to the advantage of Ireland by turning the wealth and
industry of the country into other channels, as we shall have to show
further on.

During these proceedings, many troubles had occurred in Ireland,
to engage the anxious attention of the duke. A party of forty plun-
derers, under the leaders Costello and Nangle, gave much trouble
during the summer of 1666, but were in the end routed, and Nangle
killed; after which Costello fled into Connaught, where, at the head
of half-a-dozen desperadoes, he committed frightful havoc and plunder
among the farm-houses and villag-es. At last lord Dillon, on whose
estate he had committed the greatest depredations, sent out some
armed parties of his own tenantry. Costello attacked one of these in
the night, which he thought to surprise: he was however shot dead,
and the whole of his gang cut to pieces. Thus ended an affair which
but a few years before would have been a wide wasting insurrection.
It clearly indicates the sense of the people, at this time pretty well
experienced as to the real fruits of civil war.

Far more serious was a mutiny among the troops, of whom a large
part were ill-disposed to the government, and all discontented at the
irregularity of their pay, and the insufficiency of their maintenance.
The duke received intelligence of a conspiracy, headed by colonel
Phaire, captain Walcot, and other officers, to raise a general insurrec-
tion; and having sent full information to lord Orrery, who commanded
in Munster, lord Orrery soon found means to seize a person from whom
he learned that the conspiracy extended to England and Scotland, and
that it was planned " to rise at once in all the three kingdoms : to set
up the long parliament, of which above forty members were engaged ;
that measures had been taken to gather together the disbanded soldiers
of the old army, and Ludlow was to be general-in-chief ; that they
were to be assisted with forces, arms, and money, by the Dutch; and
were to rise all in one night, and spare none that would not join in the
design — which was to pull down the king with the house of lords, and
instead of the bishops to set up a sober and painful ministry; that col-
lections had been made of money to work upon the necessities of the
soldiery, and they had already bought several men in different garri-
sons, and that particularly they had given large sums to soldiers (some
of which he named,) that were upon the guard in the castles of Dub-
lin and Limerick, for the seizing of those places, whenever they
were ready to declare, which would be in a few weeks; that each offi-
cer engaged in the design had his particular province assigned him,
and answered for a particular number of men, which he was to bring
into the field."

The earl of Orrery, with the promptness which was natural to his
active and energetic character, took the most effectual means to sup-
press so dangerous a spirit within his own jurisdiction. He communi-
cated with all the officers, and established a strict system of vigilant
observation over the actions and conversation of the soldiers. He
proposed also to empower the officers to arrest all suspicious per-
sons, and to seize their arms and horses ; but to this the duke ob-
jected. " I confess," he writes to lord Orrery, " I am not willing to
trust inferior officers, civil or military, with judging who are danger-

I

On?

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 207

ous persons, and fit to be secured, and their horses taken from them,
a thing seldom performed without a mixture of private ends, either of
revenue or avarice; and I know not what could more induce or extenu-
ate the crime of rebellion than the taking up of persons or their goods
upon alarms or general suggestions."*

The duke was fully aware at that moment that the mutinous spirit
which had thus showed itself in the south, and still more the indica-
tions of a similar temper in the north, were but the premonitory signs
of a more dangerous and general disorder. There was fermenting in
Scotland an insurrectionary temper which had its branches in Eng-
land and Ireland; and the duke considered these outbreaks among the
northern garrisons the more to be dreaded on account of their vicinity
to the Scottish coast. A mutiny in Carrickfergus, in April, was
easily appeased without the necessity of any severe or coercive reme-
dy; and the garrison, encouraged by the dangerous lenity which had
been shown, again broke out more fiercely in May, when they seized
upon the town and castle of Carrickfergus. The earl of Donegal
endeavoured to treat with them, but they rejected his offers, the mild-
ness of which only served to encourage their insubordination. The duke,
on receiving intelligence of the circumstances, sent orders to the earl to
make no further offers, as it was become essential to the peace of the king-
dom that the mutineers should be made examples of to the disaffected
throughout the army. He immediately sent off his son, the earl of
Arran, with four companies of his guards, the only troops on whom
he felt any reliance ; and not content with this, he soon after set off
himself for the north.

The earl of Arran had encountered rough weather, which drove
him within a league of the Mull of Galloway; but the storm abating,
he was enabled to get into the bay of Carrickfergus on the 27th, and
at noon landed his men without opposition. He was joined by the
earl of Donegal, and by the mayor who had made his escape. From
the mayor he received the assurance that the townsmen were on the
watch to favour him, and if he could beat the mutineers from the
walls, a party would seize upon a gate and secure his admission. The
mutineers formed their own plan, which was to plunder the town and
shut themselves in the castle : to secure time for this they sent to de-
mand time till four o'clock, to consider what they should propose.
Lord Arran was however apprized of their design and demanded im-
mediate entrance, and on being refused, he ordered a smart fire upon
the walls. The garrison, seeing that no time was to be lost, in-
stantly commenced their retreat into the castle, leaving what they con-
sidered a sufficient party to defend the walls. The earl of Arran soon
forced his way, with the loss of two men slain at his side, while the
leader of the mutineers, one Dillon, was slain in the pursuit as they
fled towards the castle. There were 120 men in the castle, strongly
fortified, and having provisions for a month: but wholly without offi-
cers. They became terrified at the regular preparations for an assault,
and quickly offered to treat, but lord Arran sent them word that he could
not offer them any terms, and they presently submitted at discretion.

* Carte, II. 325.
1[- R Ir.

258 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL

Nine of them, who had taken a leading- part, were condemned to death,
and the remainder sent to Dublin, from whence they were ti-ansported
to the colonies. The duke broke the four companies in which the
mutiny had arisen, and left two companies of his guards at Carrick-
fergus.

These disturbances, with the alarm of a French invasion, were in
one respect useful, as they had the salutary effect of drawing £15,000
from the treasury, which enabled the duke to appease the violent and
not unreasonable discontent of the army. He had long conceived a
plan for the organization of a militia for the defence of the provinces.
With this view he made a progress into the south, to fortify the coast
against the menaced invasion. It had been reported that 20,000 men
had assembled at Brest, under the duke of Beaufort, in readiness to
embark for Ireland, and already many of their ships had been seen off
Bantry Bay, Crookhaven, and other near roads. The duke was re-
ceived by the nobility and gentry on the borders of their several counties
on his way. He had already sent round his orders, and transmitted
a supply of arms and accoutrements, and now reviewed the corps
which were assembled for his orders, to the amount of two thousand
foot and three thousand horse.

The duke's efforts for the benefit of Ireland were much impeded by
the entire disregard which prevailed upon the subject in the English
council and parliament; while the influence of the duke, which had in
some measure tended to counteract this neglect was fast diminishing
under the zealous animosity of the powerful faction of his enemy, Buck-
ingham, seconded by all the most leading and influential persons of that
intriguing and profligate court, the seat of all dishonour and corrup-
tion. There the duke was feared by the king and detested by the base
and underplotting courtiers who surrounded him; and among their
favourite aims, the principal was an unremitting- cabal against one
who could not be other than an enemy to all their wishes. No occa-
sion was lost to thwart his measures, to defeat his proposals, to calum-
niate his conduct, and misrepresent his character: all this the king, whose
defect was not that of just observation, saw; but he Avas too indolent
and remiss, and too much alive to the influence of his worthless crea-
tures, to resist being carried away by the falsehood and baseness which
was the atmosphere in which he breathed ; and the further he departed
from the paths of discretion and prudence, the more he became impa-
tient of the awe which the duke's character impressed, and anxious to
throw it off. Such was the undercurrent which was steadily resisting
and preventing the policy of the duke's administration in Ireland. The
progress of the national prosperity, which must necessarily be depen-
dent upon the growth of its resources, was arrested in its infancy, and
just at the trying moment, when the country had emerged from the
very jaws of ruin, by a most unprincipled and ignorant measure. The
stagnation of trade was general; the blow received by the landed inter-
est was but the propagation of the same stroke; and the duke, making
efforts the most strenuous ever made by an Irish lord-lieutenant, and
sacrifices far beyond any recorded in British history, was doomed to
struggle vainly against the profligate indifference and corruption of the
court, the ignorance of the English commons, the disaffection of the

army, and entire want of the necessary resources for the execution of
the necessary duties of a governor.

Some great and permanent results could not fail to follow from the
combination of so much wisdom and determination. Through good
and ill report, through obstacles and hostility, the duke held on his
steady and courageous course. He awakened a spirit of commercial
concert and intelligence which was the nucleus of industry and
future progress: he organized a better system of national defence:
the spirit of the people was quieted and conciliated without the sacrifice
of any principle. It was next the duke's great ambition to remedy the
commercial injury which he had failed to prevent, by finding new
channels for the industry and fertility of the country. Having received
a memorial from Sir Peter Pett, on the manufacture of cloth, the
duke resolved to give all the encouragement in his power to the pro-
posal for the introduction of such a manufacture as might not only
employ the industry of Ireland, but also under favourable circum-
stances, be the means of opening an advantageous foreign trade. He
immediately set up an extensive manufactory of cloth in Clonmel, giv-
ing the undertakers long leases, in which he reserved "only an acknow-
ledgment instead of rent," and employed captain Grant to engage five
hundred Walloon protestant families about Canterbury to remove into
Ireland, where he settled them to advantage.

Still more early and more successful were the duke's efforts for the
re- establishment of the linen manufacture, first set on foot by lord
Strafford, but totally arrested by the rebellion. On his first coming
over, the duke sent competent persons into the Low Countries to make
inquiries, and to ascertain all the best methods, as well as the laws
and regulations, by which this trade was governed and promoted. He
procured five hundred manufacturers from Brabant; and considerable
numbers more from other places on the continent, known for their
success in the linen trade. He built houses for numbers of these in
Chapel Izod, where cordage, sail-cloth, and excellent linen began to
be produced in abundance : at the head of this establishment he placed
colonel Richard Lawrence, who also set up an extensive woollen manu-
facture. The duke planted another colony of manufacturers in his
town of Carrick-on-Suir; and thus by great exertion and expenditure,
was permanently established the greatest benefit Ireland ever received
from the hand of any individual.

The heavy blow which had been inflicted upon Ireland by the pro-
hibition act, produced its effect to the full extent that was anticipated
by the duke. To relieve in some measure the great depression which
it occasioned, there was little in his power- — that little he performed.
He purchased provisions for the government stores to the largest ex-
tent that was possible, and, in doing so, endeavoured to relieve the
largest amount of distress. He also applied to the king to enlarge
the commercial liberties of the Irish, by a free allowance to trade with
such foreign ports as were not specially interdicted, such as the foreign
plantations, appropriated by certain charters, or such as the East India,
Turkey, and Canary companies. The Scotch having followed the
example of England in prohibiting the importation of Irish produce,
the Irish council was allowed to prohibit all importation of every article

2G0 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

of trade from Scotland, from which a large amount of goods had been
annually imported to the great detriment of Irish manufacture. Even
in the conduct of this transaction, a most miserable and paltry attempt
was made by the duke of Buckingham's faction, to lay a snare for the duke
of Ormonde, against whom they were at the time endeavouring to ^.a'.ch
an impeachment. They proposed to the king, that no special allow-
ance for the exportation of Irish wool should be inserted in the king's
proclamation, but that " it would be best to let wools go out by licence,
which his Grace would resolve of;"* by which, if the duke should inad-
vertently be led to give such unauthorized licence, he would become
subject to be impeached upon a penal statute. The duke wrote to the
earl of Anglesey, noticing the impossibility of his acting upon the mere
understanding- of the council, which not being matter of record, would
easily be forgotten and present no justification for him. Against such
a mode of effecting the pretended intentions of the council he remon-
strated however in vain: no further notice was taken of the matter.

The duke of Buckingham was at the head of the duke of Ormonde's
enemies at court. The cause of his enmity was the firm refusal of
Ormonde to be concerned in the promotion of his plans, which were
neither wise nor honourable. This refusal was the more resented, as the
earl of Arran was married to the niece and heir-at-law to the duke of
Buckingham, who had also made a will in her favour, which he can-
celled upon being disobliged by the duke of Ormonde.

The increased profligacy of the English court at this time began to
have its full effect in removing all sane council from the king, who fell
entirely under the corrupt influence of advisers, who carried every point
by the favour of his mistresses. The earl of Clarendon was the first
victim of an infamous conspiracy, and having been impeached upon
accusations so false that they were even without any specious founda-
tion in fact, he was insidiously persuaded by the kingf to leave the
country, by which the malignity or the craft of his enemies, who merely
desired to get him out of the way, was served. Clarendon was the
fast friend of the duke of Ormonde, with whom he had no reserve,
and his departure was therefore inauspicious for the duke's continuance
in favour. " He seems," observes Carte, " to have fallen into the very
mistake (which he remarks in the character of archbishop Laud,) of
imagining that a man's own integrity will support him." A common
error, itself the result of integrity which finds it difficult to conceive
the length to which baseness can be carried. The earl of Clarendon
was also the victim of the secret intrigues of Buckingham: there
was an attempt made to conciliate the duke of Ormonde's assent
to the sacrifice,;}: and the king wrote him a letter, in which he told
him, " This is an arrangment too big for a letter ; so that I will add but
this word to assure you, that your former friendship to the chancellor
shall not do you any prejudice with me, and, that I have not in the
least degree diminished that value and kindness I ever had for you,
which I thought fit to say to you upon this occasion, because it is very
possible malicious people may suggest the contrary to you."

* Carte. t Burnet.

X See h letter from lord Arlington to the. dnke, Ca^to, IT. 352.

I

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 2G1

The earl of Clarendon retired into France, and an attempt to
carry the proceedings to an attainder was defeated by the firmness of
the House of Lords, always more slow to be warped to the purposes
of either court-intrigue or popular faction, than the lower house, of
which the mixed and uncertain composition has always rendered it
the field of all the veering winds of influence from every quarter.

The same party which thus succeeded in removing the restraint of
the earl of Clarendon's presence from the abandoned and proflig-ate
court of England, was as sedulously bent on getting the duke of Or-
monde out of the way. Only anxious to watch over the sickly infancy
of Irish prosperity, the duke took the utmost care to give no offence
to any party of English politicians. But the duke of Buckingham was
bent on the acquisition of the Lieutenancy of Ireland, and the place of
steward of the household: and about the middle of October, in the
same year, (1672) they contrived to draw up articles of impeachment
against the duke of Ormonde, of which Sir Heneage Finch obtained a
copy and sent it to him. The duke, however, had not only been up-
right, but being of an observing, cautious, and sagacious temper, and fully
aware of the character and designs of Buckingham, he had ever pre-
served a guarded conduct, and, as in the instance already seen, kept
himself within the letter of authority. Of the twelve articles which
composed the impeachment there were but two open even to any specious
doubt against him : of these, one was the trial by martial law, of the
soldiers who mutinied at Carrickfergus; the other related to the quar-
tering of soldiers in Dublin contrary to the statute 18 Henry VI.
These charges are evidently too futile to be here entered upon, so
as to explain their absurdity. The statute was manifestly misinter-
preted, and the practice of quartering troops in Dublin followed by
every lord-lieutenant that had ever been there, without the least com-
ment. As to the other articles, they manifested such utter ignorance,
that the duke remarked, " that they were either put together by some
friend of his, or by a very ignorant enemy:" as expressed in the arti-
cles, they were all entirely unfounded ; and most of them, had they
been true, were yet no offences ; while others were impossible to have
been committed. An attempt was at the same time made to support
this attack by another, consisting of two petitions, both of which were
thrown out by the House of Commons, notwithstanding the efforts of
the duke of Buckingham and his party.

The mischief produced by these proceedings in Ireland was very con-
siderable; a general sense was excited, that tortuous claimants might
find strong support against the duke. The members of his government
also, were so scared, that they hung back in the discharge of their
duties, and shrunk from the responsibility attendant upon every exer-
cise of the powers committed to them. The duke, with all his caution,
shrunk from no legal exertion of his power, and was left to act alone,
under circumstances of trying emergency. Among other things we
find him at this time writing to lord Arlington : — " I have so much
reason to fear this may be the aim of some, that for all I am threat-
ened to be accused of treason, on account of giving warrants for the
quartering of soldiers; yet I am so hopeful that I shall incur no such
danger, and so apprehensive that, if the army should be much discour-

2G2 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

asred or lessened, treason and rebellion would soon show themselves,
that I continue to give the usual warrants, and to compel obedience to
be given to them; and so I shall do, if his majesty vouchsafe to give
it his approbation!"

Irritated by defeat, and urged by the ambitious cupidity of the duke
of Buckingham, the enemies of the duke of Ormonde were incessant
in their attacks upon him, and it soon became evident to all intelligent
observers, that the restless animosity, and the great court-influenGe of
that party, which appeared determined on his fall, could not fail to
injure him at last. The weakness and uncertainty of the king, who
bad no affections but for those who were subservient to his humours
or inclinations, left no hope from his firmness or justice; and the duke
of Ormonde received repeated letters from his friends in England,
advising him to come over himself; among these, one warning alone
had in some degree the effect of exciting a seuse of danger. The
earl of Anglesey, who was menaced with similar accusations, received
an intimation that he should not be molested if he would lend his aid
in the fabrication of an impeachment of the duke of Ormonde: the
earl refused and laid the entire correspondence before the duke. Still
more serious was a similar communication from lord Orrery. We shall
enter more into the detail of this, both because it actually determined
the movements of the duke, and because it is our opinion that lord
Orrery was unjustly accused to the duke ; though it is, at the same
time, quite apparent that the conduct of lord Orrery was not at the
same time such as to render the suspicion unfounded : and we have
also little doubt in the belief that he was afterwards drawn into the
intrigue of the duke's enemies.

The earl of Orrery having written to desire that the duke would
give him a cypher, upon receiving this, wrote a letter to the duke,
dated Nov. 13, 1667, acknowledging the receipt of a letter from his
excellency, communicating the articles of impeachment, and mention-
ing that he had been already aware of them, and adding, " and possi-
bly that it was not without my service that you had them;" and making
several comments, with which we shall not trouble the reader's atten-
tion. On November the 19th, the following letter in cypher came
from the earl of Orrery to the duke: —

To the Duke of Ormonde.

" November 19th, 1667.

" Mat it please your Grace,

Earl of Orrery

" A letter this day from a good hand tells 379,

charge Duke of Ormonde

that a 31 12 29 21 11 57 against 378 is in the hands of

Duke of Bucks Lord Ashley Lit t 1 e t o n

118 and 112; that one 15 13 23 47 9 63 7l 80 41

a cc u s e Duke of Ormonde adventurers

is to 5 7 24 22 9 378 in 170; and that the 86 90 are to

give the rise for it.

Duke of Ormonde Me a the

" 378 will do well to be watchful over the earl of 16 33 29 23 12 9.

Karl of Orreiy

" A friend this post writ to 379, that he saw the petition of the

i

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 263

adventurers parliament

86 to the 406, that the acts of 17 and 18 of the last king

parliament

might be made good; that they have a great many friends in 406;
so that it is believed, most which has been done, will be undone; and
what the consequences thereof will be, God only knows.

Lord Arlington

" A good hand tells me they will push hard at 111; and

letter Lord Arlington sent

some warm whispers there are of a 325 which 111 25 21 13 23

Duke of Ormonde

in June, to 378, of a strange nature, with which it is thought

Duke of Ormonde liis oath

much ado will be made; and the 378 will be upon 733 846

Sir G. Lane

about it, and 318, of which my friend says I should shortly hear
more."

In the meantime the duke was strongly and repeatedly urged to go
over to England. The earl of Orrery had also applied for a licence
to leave his government, which he received. After which, the two fol-
lowing- letters were written : —

To the Duke of Ormonde.

" Charleville, March 16, 1667.

" May it please your Grace,

" I have even now by the post received the honour of
your grace's letter of the 10th instant, from Thurles. I confess I was
somewhat surprised when I read it ; for your grace was pleased to say,
by your collections from some late passages in affairs, and from the
deportment of some who are understood to be my friends, and of others
whom your grace is sure are my relations, some suspicions might be
raised in a mind more liable to that passion than yours is, to the weak-
ening your confidence in my profession to you.

" To which I humbly answer, that if any who are understood to be
my friends, or who certainly are my relations, have misdeported them-
selves towards your grace, the least favour I could have expected was,
either that I might have been acquainted with the names of the per-
sons, or with their faults, that thereby I might have been capacitated
to have made them sensible of, and sorry for them ; or else that the
miscarriages of others, neither whose persons or offences are told me,
might not prejudice me in your grace's good opinion ; for I never did
undertake to your grace, that all who call themselves my friends, or who
really are my relations, should act in all things towards your grace,
no, not so much as towards myself, as I heartily wish they would do.
And since I can neither command their doings or their inclinations, it
would not be consonant to your grace's usual justice and goodness, to
let one who is your servant suffer for the faults of those whom you
judge are not your servants, and over whom I have no authority. I
should not have thought my lord Clarendon over-just, if he should
have contracted a jealousy at your grace, because my lord Arlington,
who is your friend and ally, appeared against him. But this I profess
to your grace, that if any who says he is my friend, or who is a rela-
tion of mine, has done, or shall do, any thing which is offensive to your

i >

2G4 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

grace, and that I am acquainted witli it, I will z-esent it at such a. rate,
as shall evidence to him, that whoever offends you does injure me.

" And now, my lord, I must beg your pardon, if I should think that
it is not consonant to those assurances you have been pleased to give
me of your favour; and of never entertaining any thing to my preju-
dice, till first you had told me of it, and heard what I could say on it,
to have made some collections from some late passages in affairs,
(which had you been inclined to suspicion, might have raised in you,)
that I was not so much your servant, as really 1 am, and yet never have
told them to me till now, and now only in such general terms, as
serves only to let me know I am obliged to your kindness, and not to
my own innocency, if you do not misdoubt me. You are pleased to
let me see your collections would have wounded me, but you are not
pleased to allow me the means to cure myself, which my integrity
would have done, had I particularly known those passages, which your
grace only mentions in general. And although it is a happiness I
much desire, to be so rooted in your grace's esteem, as to need only
your esteem to maintain me in it; yet I confess, my lord, where I
seem (at least) to be suspected, I would owe my vindication to your
justice as much as to your favour. For since the insignificancy of my
condition is such, that I cannot by my services merit your esteem, I
am covetous to evidence, that by no ill actions of mine I would forfeit
it. I do therefore most humbly and earnestly beg of your grace, that
I may minutely know those passages, through which, by your collec-
tions, I might be prejudiced in your opinion, that I may derive from
my innocency, as much as from your grace's favour, and unaptness to
entertain suspicions, my vindication. If I did not think myself guilt-
less, I would not thus humbly implore of your grace to descend to par-
ticulars. And if you think I am not, forgive me, I beseech you, if I
say you are somewhat obliged not to deny it; since it is at my own re-
quest, that you make me appear such to myself.

" I was in hope, since I had for above one year avoided intermeddling
with any affairs but those of this province, that I had thereby put
myself into no incapacity of being misunderstood by any considerable
person, especially that I was below being suspected by your grace.
But alas! I find, that to be held guiltless, a man must not only be in-
nocent but fortunate too. The first depending on myself, it is my
own fault if I do not attain to it; but the last depending wholly upon
others, I can only say it is my trouble, but not my fault, that I must
miss of it.

" Give me leave, I beseech your grace, further to say that I have of
late showed myself a true servant to you ; and with this satisfaction
(perhaps it may be thought vanity,) that none knows it, but those
who I am sure will not tell you of it, for their own sakes. For I do
not consider professions of friendship, as too many in this age do ; I
look upon them as the most binding temporal ties amongst men, and at
such a rate I endeavour to keep them ; and so I shall do those I have
made to your grace, whatever misrepresentations may have been made
of me. For whatever confidence your grace is pleased to have of me
in the close of your letter, yet till that part of it, methinks the whole
complexion of it is such, as I cannot but with real grief acknowledge,

i

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE.

'261

I doubt your grace has received some impressions to my prejudice:
and therefore I do not only humbly hope, but also beg that you will
afford me a rise to clear myself, by telling me particularly what you
take amiss at my hands ; and then I shall not doubt but your grace
will again believe me.

"May it please your Grace,

" Your Grace's unalterable servant.

" ORRERY."

" If it be not too great a confidence, I would humbly beg that my
lady duchess might see, whether in this letter I have begged any
thing unfit for your grace to grant; for I am above expression, ambi-
tious to continue right in her good opinion."

To the Duke of Ormonde.

" Charleville, March 16, 1667.

" May it please your Grace,

"Above six hours after the post was gone from hence
to Dublin, I received, by my lord Kingston's favour, the honour of
your grace's letter of the 12th instant, for which, and for the leave
which your grace is pleased to give me to go for London, with the
great care you have condescended to take for my patent of licence ;
and for a warrant for one of his majesty's ships to transport me, I pay
your grace my most humble acknowledgments.

" But, my lord, how can I go for England, or indeed stay here, with
any satisfaction, while the impressions of your grace's letter to me of
the 10th instant, from Thurles, are remaining in me? For they are
such as I can scarce mind any thing, till I have vindicated myself from
those suspicions; and therefore I have suspended my journey, till I have
received the honour of your grace's answer to my letter of the 13th
instant. If the humble desires I have made to you in it be granted,
(as I more than hope they will be, because they are just,) your grace
will soon prove me faulty, or I shall soon prove I am not. If the first,
I shall even in my own opinion judge myself unfit to serve this kingdom
and your grace; if the last, then I shall be cheerfully ready to serve
both, when I am instructed by your grace how to do it.

" There is no great doubt, but that a person of your eminency will
have enemies, since one of so low a quality as I, am not, as I feel, with-
out them ; and whatever your grace's may design against you, mine
will not fail to represent them to you, as things which I promote, or
at least am concurring in ; and therefore I am the more confirmed not
to stir, till I have fully cleared myself, because, while I am under your
grace's doubts, all misrepresentations of me may, with less difficulty,
be received. And if while I lived a country life, and at a great dis-
tance even from the scenes of business, those who are not my friends,
have had so much power by their suggestions, as to incline your grace
to think it fit to write to me your letter of the 10th instant, what will
they not be able to do when I am at London, if any who are net your
grace's servants should attempt to prejudice you, as some, I find by
your grace's letter, have already endeavoured to do?

*' Possibly your grace may consider these as but speculations, and nice

ones too: but I, who am seriously concerned in what I write, and per-
fectly desirous, not only to keep myself innocent, but also to be esteemed
so, and to avoid even the umbrages of suspicion, have judged the put-
ting a stop to my journey, and what I have now written to be abso-
lutely necessary. For I am the uneasiest person living to myself,
while I am under the least jealousy of one, whom I truly love and
honour, especially when 1 see I am in his suspicion: and yet the par-
ticulars on which his suspicion is grounded are not told me, nay when
some of them cannot, by the strictest rules of justice, be equitably in-
terpreted to my disadvantage.

" I know not whether those principles I act by in friendship be dif-
ferent from those of other men, but I never choose to make a man my
friend whom I can suspect, or never suspect him till I tell him ex-
pressly every one of all the particulars on which my suspicion is built,
that I may soon convince him of his fault or see my own.

"I most humbly beg your grace's pardon for the freedom of this letter,
since it proceeds from the duty and respect I have for your grace ; and
for the cause's sake be pleased to excuse the effect.

" I look upon a trust as the greatest obligation to be trusty; and
if I doubt my friend before proof, I should conclude I had wronged
him.

"In the last place, I beseech your grace seriously to consider, whether
I can have any inducement (as some of my enemies I doubt would per-
suade you I have,) to lay designs against you. Can they be such fools
as to fancy I would attempt to get your grace out of the government, or
to get into it myself. I solemnly protest, in the presence of God, that
if I could have the government of this kingdom, and that I had abili-
ties of mind and strength of body to support it, and that there were
no debts due to the civil and military lists, and a constant revenue to
maintain both, yet I would refuse to undertake it; for I have seen
enough of this world, to make me find a country life is the best life in
it. But since the infirmity of the gout, the weakness of my parts, and
the misery this unhappy kingdom seems to be plunged into, do require
exceedingly greater abilities to preserve it, than ever I can so much
as hope to attain unto, as I would not be so treacherous to the king, my
master, to my country, and to my friends and posterity, as to seek for
that authority, which must ever in my own judgment, (and I protest
to God I do not dissemble,) be very prejudicial, if not ruinous, to
them all.

" This much as to what concerns my own self. Now, as to what con-
cerns my endeavours of getting any other into the government. I
would fain know whom they can believe, or so much as say, I would do
that for, if I had the power to do it; (for I swear I know it not my-
self.) yet sure he must be a man that has laid greater obligations
on me than your grace had, (and such a one I vow I know not,) for
whom I would lose you to oblige him. If neither of these can ration-
ally be believed, as I hope (after what 1 have vowed,) they will not
be; then it is less rational to fancy that I would be plotting against your
grace, and yet resolve to live under your government. I should be as
much a fool as a knave to do it; and such as truly know me, will not
easily believe, that ingratitude is a vice I am practically addicted to.

i

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 267

I know not that I have ever revenged myself on my enemy, when I
had the power; and therefore I am not very likely to attempt against
my benefactor when I have not the power.

" Neither is there any thing in your grace's interest and mine which
is opposite ; you are a devoted servant to his majesty, and may I
perish and mine when I am not the like. You and your posterity
are to suffer or nourish, as this kingdom does decay or thrive; the
like I may say of me and mine. You are in the employment fittest
for you; and I in the highest employment that ever I will aspire to.
To which I cannot but add, that I did never yet my own self beg
any thing for my friends, or for myself that your grace did deny
me ; which is more than I can promise to myself from whomsoever
shall succeed you. In God's name, what can be then in it, to enable
my ill-willers to bring me under that unhappiness I fear I am in? I
do therefore, with all the earnestness and humility in the world, be-
seech your grace, either to free me now and for ever from it, on terms
which may let you find I did not deserve it; or get me what satisfaction
your grace shall think fit for my place of president of Munster, and 1
will go spend the rest of my time in my own house in Eng-land, and
never see this enchanted kingdom more. I shall taste a thousand times
more delight in that retirement, than in this employment, while I am
under such misdoubts. Your grace knows, that as nothing but friend-
ship can acquire friendship, so nothing but trust, and a full clearing
of distrust, is an essential part of it. Let me therefore be but believed
an honest man, till I am proved to be otherwise, and then I dare con-
fidently conclude I shall be still esteemed, as I really am,
" May it please your Grace,

" Your Grace's own unalterable servant,

" Okreuy.'-

A subsequent letter contains the following passage : " Whatever in-
vitations I have had to appear against your grace, they were made to
a particular friend of mine, who is of the parliament of England, who
enjoined me secrecy in what he wrote or sent me, and only obliged
himself to acquaint me with the persons which should accuse your
grace, and with the matters of their accusation, in case I would join
in both, which my resolutely refusing to do ended that negotiation; and
the part I acted in it, is so far from being a generosity, (though your
grace's civility is pleased to call it so,) as it was but a bare duty both
to your employment and to your person, besides what I do particularly
owe to your grace on many accounts, so that though I had the private
contentment of being above such a temptation, yet I wanted the means
to tell your grace who were your enemies, or with what arms they in-
tended to assault you; which (as the state of things stood,) I could not
learn, unless I became your enemy, or were false to my promise, both of
which I equally abhorred to be. This being on my word and credit
the truth, I humbly hope your grace will believe that I stand innocent
as to what your grace's last letter has mentioned; and therefore I pre-
sume to think that your grace (in your turn,) will be pleased to let me
clearly know, what in your letter of the 10th instant, you did obscurely
(as to me) intimate in it. for I shall be at no rest, till I am clear in

268 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

your grace's belief, (after due proof, ) as I am in my intentions, nay, I
may say, as I am in my actions."

There are other letters equally strong-, and the duke was quite satis-
fied, though there occurred many circumstances to awaken a doubt of
the fairness of the earl's intentions : nor was it the least confirmatory
circumstance, that the same suspicion was very general, of which the
following anonymous letter may serve as an example : — " It is a good
while, now, since first my lord-lieutenant hath been misrepresented here;
and if reports were trusted to make good as well as draw up censures,
besides the unactive humour and temper many charge against him, I
am informed there are those yet behind the curtain who only wait an
opportunity to join hands with the earl of Meath, to promote and
strengthen a higher charge. Orrery is this night expected in town,
and to lodge at my lord Conway's ; and as great a master of good
aspect that way, (it is my own observation indeed, but no groundless
one,) as Anglesey would seem to be, it will not be long (if they can
but divine or promise the least success to tbeir prosecution,) before
his grace find that gentleman discover himself another Mountmorris.
We live amidst great frauds, because with persons who seem most
what other than they are. I fear me I dare not promise for the se-
cretary, what perhaps he would fain make my lord duke believe him
to be, his friend. Be the inducement what it will, it is observable, a
man doth ever bis own business best, who trusts it not to another's man-
agement: and since his grace hath been struck at in the dark hitherto,
all that have a love and service to his great integrity and merit, hold it
safest, as more honourable, he should baffle their malice the same way
he doth all other his great actings, even to the eyes of the world. I
would not be thought now so vain, as to imagine I looked beyond what
his grace doth; but with all submission I crave leave to offer, what
my great duty, and as great zeal prompted me to, and that is to pre-
sume he hath more and greater enemies than he thinks he hath. The
comprehensive bill hath made almost a great uproar among us ; and
the honest old gentry of England are so much the church's sons still,
that hitherto, notwithstanding- all the vigorous and powerful thereof,
they have been able to suppress it: but the debate is to be resumed
again next Wednesday ; and then having got new strength, the secre-
taries expect no less than undoubted conquest; and amongst the aids
promised them, I have it from good authority, that a great minister
here hath undertaken his grace shall be for the toleration, and use his
interest to effect it; which God forbid, that he, who never yet had
blot on his scutcheon, upon any account, either in church or state,
should ever have his name sullied, to be upon record among the
schismatics, as an enemy to his mother, the church. But better things
are believed of his grace, by all who have an honour for him; and
when he comes over, no doubt this kingdom will find it."

Indorsed " Letter to the Duchess of Ormonde, from an un-
known person, left with the porter of my lodgings, "at
Whitehall: received April, 21, 1668."

THE BUTLERS- -JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 269

The protestations of the earl of Orrery do not permit us consis-
tently, with the view we have taken of his character, to infer that he
was at the time of these letters directly engaged in the conspiracy
against the duke, of which there is no doubt. It is nevertheless diffi-
cult wholly to reject suspicions warranted by so many circumstances:
the earl of Orrery was engaged in the strictest ties of political interest
and personal friendship with the very persons from whom all danger was
to be apprehended. We think it also essential to a just conclusion, to
take into account the shrewd and calculating disposition of this noble-
man: nor can we omit the consideration, that they who were the enemies
of the duke of Ormonde were his friends, and were not unlikely either
to rely on his aid, or to throw proportional inducements in his way. The
duke indeed, was completely satisfied by the letters above cited, but he
must have been aware of the natural effects which circumstances would
not fail to produce on the earl of Orrery, and which we believe to have
been the actual result — that after a struggle between his regard for the
duke, and other considerations affecting his own interest, he acceded to
the wishes of those who wished for his aid. He had early applied to the
duke for licence to go to England, but as appears from his letters,
deferred proceeding for several months: we consider the delay to have
originated in the vacillation arising from the conflict of opposite pur-
poses. But when finally he prepared to depart, it became plain enough
which way the scale was inclining; and the duke of Ormonde, long
urged to appear in his own behalf, at last thought it high time to con-
front the base but powerful faction who were actively banded for his
ruin. On the 24th April he left Dublin and arrived next day at
Holyhead, having committed the government to lord Ossory.

His reception in London was impressive and magnificent: numbers
of the nobility and gentry went out to meet him in their coaches, and
he entered the city with a large procession of rank and respectability,
which would have been still more considerable but that the houses of
parliament were sitting at the time, and engaged in a debate of great
warmth and interest. This circumstance, though quite unsought on
the duke's part, wounded the king's pride and mortified Buckingham,
who nevertheless visited him immediately, and protested that he was
quite unconcerned in any design to injure him. By the king he was
also received with the wonted kindness, or rather respect, for the king
stood in awe of the duke, who was far too dignified and frank for his
regard.

The charges against the duke did not, however, long suffer him to
be in doubt about the intentions of his enemies. The arrival of lord
Orrery was the signal of attack. The earl of Orrery was the fast
friend of the leading members of the cabal against the duke, and
in addition to the remarks already made it is also with truth observ-
ed, that he had himself a strong interest in some of the most impor-
tant decisions to which these charges ■ might lead. The duke had
advised the reduction of the Irish establishment, or the increase of
the means for their support. Lord Orrery's interest lay in the full
maintenance of the military establishment; he at once, on arriving in
London, asserted that the revenue was sufficient, but that it had been
misapplied. The accompts were examined, and the facts did not bear

270 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

out this assertion: the payments were found to have heen for the most
part essential, and fully amounting to the receipts, but two sums had
been ordered by the duke, and of these one was to the earls of An-
glesey and Orrery, and the other to a Mr Fitz-Gerald, but neither had
been paid: the duke was on this score free from imputation. Much of
the waste had however arisen from a source independent of every Irish
authority, the king's own warrants, by which large sums had occasion-
ally been disbursed in the Irish treasury. The earl of Anglesey, wdio
was treasurer of the navy, and was involved in this charge, was found
quite free from blame.

The reduction of the Munster army was in consequence decided on,
and it was also considered advisable to call an Irish parliament, much
to the annoyance of the earl of Orrery, as his own enemies in Ireland
had been maturing charges against him as president of Munster, on
an impeachment in the Irish parliament. The conspiracy against the
duke and the earl of Anglesey ended in the establishment of these facts:
that the revenue had not been adequately collected, and that there was
a considerable arrear. It was ascertained that the expenses of the
establishment had always exceeded the revenue; but that the excess
had been diminishing annually during the duke's administration.*

The charges against the duke were altogether relinquished as wholly
groundless; but the eagerness of his enemies was unsatisfied, and he
was still pursued with the same relentless animosity. The system of
operations was necessarily changed. Failing to find a weak point for
an assault upon his reputation, his virtues were turned against him: it
was quickly seen by the keen eye of court malignity, that the friend-
ship of Charles was an unwilling tribute to one whom he feared; for
with the profligate respect is fear or dislike. It was therefore now
resolved to render him unpopular with the king, and also to practise
upon the pride of the duke himself.

The duke's own friends had advised him to resign a station which
was the mark of envy and treachery. But this was a step to which
there lay some very strong objections: there was in reality not a single
person competent to fill his place, who could be trusted with the inter-
ests of Ireland ; and the duke having given up 400,000 acres of pro-
perty for the sum of £50,000, which was allotted for the payment of
his creditors, was also aware that he Avould lose the money if he should
leave the country.

During the following nine months the duke was kept in a state of
suspense as to the intentions of the king. From the perusal of a con-
siderable mass of letters and other documents, we are enabled to infer
with considerable certainty the real course of proceeding which was
adopted by his enemies, and sanctioned by the king with some reluc-
tance, and not without a sense of shame: profligate and unprincipled,
he was not without sagacity and good taste, and understood but too
well the baseness and insignificance of those who were necessary to his
vices. Failing miserably in their eftbrts to cast disgrace upon the
duke, whose character rose undique tutus from their shallow and pre-

* Carte, II. 371.

THE BUTLERS -JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 271

cipitate accusations, the next effort was to proceed by court intrigue,
to bring round the indolent and complying humour of the king, and
in the mean time to cast an impenetrable obscurity around their real
designs. For this purpose the duke was courted and imposed upon by
professions and pretexts: the king assured him that he should not be
removed from the government, and his enemies appeared to have re-
lented in their purposes. The duke was too sagacious to be wholly
deceived, but too honourable to comprehend the whole extent of their
hypocrisy: he could not help perceiving that he was sedulously exclud-
ed from all councils upon Irish affairs, while he was carefully consulted
upon every other topic. From this, and from the oft-repeated advice of
pretending friends, he was soon led to suspect that the object of the
court party was to " unfasten" him first from his position, and then to
remove him wholly. We shall here offer a selection of extracts from
his confidential correspondence with his son: —

August 4th, 1668 " I have expostulated with my lord of Orrery

the unfriendliness and disrespect of his making propositions, so much
relating to my employment, and contrary to his promise, without ac-
quainting me with them. What his answers to so unavoidable a charge
vou mav eruess : but they were such as I was content to receive for that

time." ^ * * * * . * . *

" It is evident my lord of Orrery would avert the disbanding of any
part of the army, and at least delay the calling of an Irish parliament
which engages him in undertakings very hard to be made good. Time
will show the issue of all." August 15th, 1668.

" All that can be said of the publick is that discontent and despond-
ence was never more high or universal, nor ever any court fallen to
so much contempt, or governed with so little care to redeem itself.
All that can be said in favour of the times and government is, that
(for ought I can find,) justice betwixt man and man, and that upon
offenders, is well distributed in the courts of judicature; but certainly
the favours, recompenses and employments, are not so. * *

u As to my private, it is certain, the insinuations of my enemies
(who will be found to be the king's in the end,) had prevailed with his
majesty to believe that I had not served him with that care and thrift
which the state of his affairs required. And, I am not free from doubt,
but that those suggestions may have drawn some engagement from him,
not to admit of my return into Ireland, with which he now finds him-
self embarrassed, especially they failing to make good what they under-
took to discover, of my mismanagement. Whether my interest and
innocence will prevail, or their malice and artifice, is the question."
September, 1668.

" On Thursday last, by former appointment, Mr Treasurer and I dined
at my lord Arlington's; the design being that we three might freely talk
upon the subject of the alteration of the government of Ireland. The en-
deavour on their part was to persuade me to think it reasonable and
without prejudice to me, that (retaining the name and appointments of
lieutenant,) I should name fit persons to govern in my absence, and by
applying themselves to me upon all occasions. I answered (with all
submission to the king's will) that to make any change in the govern-
ment till I had been once more on the place, would be understood to

272

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

proceed from the king's dissatisfaction with my service, and would in-
evitably bring ruin and disgrace upon me, and be matter of triumph to
my enemies and dejection to my friends. Yet if I could be convinced
how it would advantage his majesty to have me removed, I would, as
I have always done, prefer his service and prosperity to any interest
of my own. But (I said,) that without entering into jDanegyricks of
myself, I knew nothing tit for the king to do in Ireland, which I was
not as well able to do as any he could employ.

" Many other things interposed in our discourse, whereof at length
the result was, that my lord Arlington said he was verily persuaded I
might have the matter ordered as I would myself. When we were
ready to break up that conversation, I told his lordship, ' I had long
and patiently observed myself excluded from all conversations relating
to Ireland; that it was not in my nature to thrust myself upon busi-
ness, especially such as seemed industriously kept from me; but that
on the other side, I would not willingly be thought empty of thoughts
fit for his majesty's knowledge and consideration, and doggedly sit
silent out of discontent.' His advice to me was, to speak freely of the
affairs of Ireland with the king, and my lord keeper. Last of all, I
desired him to let me know what was misliked in my conduct, which
might do me prejudice with the king. He answered, that all he could
observe was, that it was held a negligence in me to suffer my lord
Anglesey to pervert so much of the public money as he had done;
that it was evident the revenue exceeded the establishment, and yet
the army was vastly in arrear. I answered that this was what I
foresaw would reflect upon me in the execution of that commission,
which I was told should not in the least touch me. However, it was
hard to impute my lord of Anglesey's faults (if any he had committed,)
to me, especially since his majesty knew that I had by express war-
rant commanded him to prefer the establishment to all other pay-
ments." November 21st, 1668.

" My last was of the 13th instant. That very evening I had notice
the king intended the next day, at a committee of foreign affairs,
to declare his resolution to change the governor of Ireland: which
accordingly he did, and my lord Privy Seal to succeed. His majesty
declared without any stop or hesitation (which sometimes happens in
his discourse,) ' how well he was satisfied with my thirty years service
to his father and himself; that the change he now made was not out
of distrust or displeasure, as should appear by admitting me into the
most secret and important parts of his affairs; and that nobody should
have an higher or nearer place in his esteem or confidence.' " February
16th, 1668.

The king's respect for the duke of Ormonde amounts to something
very like fear, he was " willing to wound, but yet afraid to strike,"
and after his mind was fully made up to dismiss him from his office,
he waited many days and made many abortive efforts to put his plan into
execution. He sent lord Arlington to him for his commission, but
the duke told this lord that he had received his commission from the
king's own hand, and would return it to no other. He then went to
deliver it to the king who denied the message. Two days after, the
duke received another visit from lord Arlington, who delivered the

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 273

same message, and received the same answer. Again he waited upon
the king, who again disclaimed his message. In the next meeting of
the privy council, however, he declared the dismissal of the duke, and
the appointment of lord Roberts in his room. On receiving an ac-
count of this, the duke once more went to expostulate with the king,
and to his surprise the king denied the entire proceeding: he then
however sent a gentleman, who was a connexion of the duke's, to ex-
plain, that he had actually made the change, but denied it because he
saw the duke was heated and might say something not respectful. He
assured the duke that he would still " be kind to him, and continue
him lord steward," and pleaded the necessity of his affairs.*

What confidence the duke of Ormonde may have felt in any assur-
ance of the king's we cannot say; but he shortly after received a mark
of honour and respect above the power of the lying and time-serving
monarch who then disgraced the throne of England to confer.

The duchess of Ormonde had repaired to Ireland to reduce the
establishment which the duke had found necessary as lord-lieuten-
ant : on her return, he went to meet her, and having stopped at Ox-
ford, he was entertained by the university, and complimented with the
degree of doctor of civil law; and the chancellorship being vacant by
the resignation of the earl of Clarendon, the choice of the university
fell on the duke. The university was guided in this election by
the advice of Gilbert Sheldon, archbishop of Canterbury, to whom
this high dignity had in the first instance been offered: it was declined
by the archbishop on the score of his age and great infirmities, but he
assured the university that he could think of no one so fit for the
office as the duke of Ormonde. We give a portion of the primate's
letter: "A person whom I cannot mention but with all characters of
honour; who, besides the eminency of his birth and dignities, hath made
himself more illustrious by his virtue and merits, by that constant
integrity he hath in all fortunes borne to the king and church ; and
(which concerns them more particularly) by his love of letters and
learned men. His quality will dignify their choice, his affection for
them will improve his care over them, and his interest will be able at
their need to support them." The duke was inaugurated with great
solemnity in London, on the 26th of August, by the vice-chancellor,
assisted by the bishops of Winchester, Oxford, and Rochester, with a
numerous attendance of doctors of all the faculties, and members of the
university, who walked in procession to Worcester house, where they
were joined by the bishop of London and the archbishop of Canterbury.
Here they took their places in solemn order in a large room, and the
cause of the convocation having been declared, the duke of Ormonde
came from a side-room, attended by the earls of Bedford, Ailesbury, Dun-
fermline and Carlingford, and having taken his place, was addressed in a
set speech by the vice-chancellor. The duke then had delivered to him
the seals of the office, the book of statutes, and the keys; and next took
the oaths required on the occasion, after which the members of the
university took the oaths of duty to the chancellor, and lastly, the duke
made a speech, in which he thanked the university, assured the con-
vocation of his determination to maintain their rights, preserve their

* Burnet.

"• S Ir.

274 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

statutes, encourage learning, and give his protection on all occasions
to that learned body in general, and to every deserving member of it
in particular.* This election does equal honour to the university and
to the duke. No public body has uniformly stood so high as the uni-
versity of Oxford, for the high and disinterested ground it has ever
taken on every question in which principle has been concerned ; and
while this character is honourably exemplified in the act by which it
honoured and exalted a nobleman, who was at that moment an object
of rancorous persecution to the most powerful faction in the kingdom,
armed with the influence of the court: it nobly attests the true character
which the duke's whole life and actions maintained among the wise and
good men of his age.

The duke, whose honours were for the most part hardly earned, was
of a disposition to be peculiarly affected by such a mark of respect. It
was his temper to sacrifice his ease and interest to the good of the
kingdom; and it was to posterity that he looked for his renown. A
conversation which he had about this time with a friend, may be
quoted as the faithful expression of his sentiments, in connexion with a
fact very remarkable through his entire history : — " He had been a little
before (as he was taking a walk early in the morning with Sir Robert
Southwell, in the Pall-mall,) discoursing of the vicissitudes of fortune,
how it had still befallen him to be employed in times of the greatest
difficulty, and when affairs Were in the worst situation; how his em-
ployments had been thrown upon him without any desire or appli
cation of his own; how, when he thought his actions were most justi-
fiable, they commonly found the hardest interpretation, and concluded
at last, ' well, (said he) nothing of this shall break my heart; for how
ever it may fare with me in the court, I am resolved to lie well in the
chronicle.' " Such indeed is the sense of all the truly illustrious, the
"last infirmity of noble minds," and never more truly exemplified than
in this great man, to whom history, but partially true, has not wholly
done justice yet. For so trying and complicated was the maze of fac-
tion with which he had to contend, and unhappily so permanent have
been the animosities and prejudices, of which he was, during- his life,
a central mark ; that all the basest calumnies, and most contemptible
misconstructions of party-spirit, are still suffered to have a place in
every history which aims to please a large class of the public; so that
the numerous libels which were the foam and venom of the vile fac-
tion by which he was baited at this period of his life, have had but too
many echoes from writers, whose injustice is the disinterested result of
their prejudices, which have prevented them from deliberate and im-
partial inquiry. At the time of which we write, the enemies of the duke
finding themselves wholly unable to establish any case to his discredit,
endeavoured to avenge their failure by the most scandalous publica-
tions, full of those vague charges, that go so far with the multitude,
which is ever strongly impressed by violent language and easily imposed
upon by any sort of specious mis-statement. But of the numerous libels at
this time published to injure the duke, it may be said that they contain
in themselves the antidote for all their venom: the principles adopted
by these writers, and the persons whom they put forward as deserving

* Girtp, IT.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 275

of public confidence, sufficiently neutralize their accusations, or con-
vert them into honourable testimonies of worth. Of the greater part
of these the duke of Buckingham was the instigator, and of many there is
stronger reason to suspect him the author. He was irritated to find the
acts which had occasioned the ruin of Clarendon, insufficient to put
the duke of Ormonde as wholly aside as he thought necessary for his
purposes. It was a serious mortification after all his undermining, to
find that there was still a presiding spirit superior to fear, and at en-
mity with falsehood, to discountenance his intrigues and repress his
craft in council. He was therefore unremitting in raising up enemiec
and complaints against the duke. In these he was mostly defeated, by
the extravagance or the notorious untruth of the statements; in others
he gave considerable trouble and vexation. Among these latter, the
most remarkable was a complaint brought forward by the earl of
Meath, who charged the duke with having quartered soldiers on his
tenants, in the liberties of Dublin, which he asserted to be treason;
and made several allegations of oppression and injury, sustained from
the duke's officers and men. He refused, however, to substantiate his
charges by any proof: on inquiry it appeared that the soldiers had fully
paid for every thing they had received: that the army had always been
quartered in Dublin, under every government; and that the duke had
not brought but found them there. These accusations being thus found
insufficient, lord Meath, who was evidently instrumental to the duke of
Buckingham, was sent back to Ireland to look for further proofs, and
additional matter of accusation. In the end, however, he found him-
self compelled to apologize to the council for the insufficiency of his
case: which he would not even venture to bring forward, until the
duke of Ormonde himself, indignant at the propagation of groundless
reports, and considering the fullest investigation as the best security for
his reputation, had lord Meath summoned, and a day fixed for hearing
him, and investigating the case. Lord Meath would most willingly have
come forward with a strong statement, but he shrunk from the investi-
gation.

An attack of a more artful and invidious kind was made in a pam-
phlet containing certain queries upon the subject of the grants of
land and money which had been made to the duke And it is not
easy to conceive a more detestable tissue of injustice, sophistry, and mis-
representation. Through the entire there is an obvious appeal to the
ignorance of the English public on the facts; by a daring and broad
mis-statement of every one of them, which could not for a moment pass
in Ireland or bear any species of investigation. The actual claims of
the duke are overlooked, his legal rights passed by, the greatness of
his losses unnoticed, and the abortiveness of the grants themselves dis-
honestly sunk: the suppressio veri was never more thoroughly exempli-
fied. But these accusations were only for the ear of the multitude,
they were designed to create a prejudice in the House of Commons,
which it was easier to corrupt, to alarm, or to exasperate, than to con-
vince by fact or reason. We cannot, without a far greater sacrifice
of space than is consistent with the plan of these lives, enter at length
into the considerable mass of accompts and statements which would be
essential to a just view of this question. Some facts we have already

276 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

mentioned ; we can only sum them here very generally and briefly. One
large grant consisted merely of a confirmation of the duke's legal
claims to estates which had been granted by his family, on conditions
according to which they had actually reverted to the donor. The most
elementary principles of the laws of property, the basis of all law, must
be set aside before this can be spoken of as a grant. Yet this right,
amounting: to 400.000 acres, the duke resigned to facilitate the settle-
ment, in consideration of a sum not amounting to a tenth of the value,
and this was itself apportioned for the payment of creditors whose
claims should have been met by the government. This small sum
was never paid to the duke. A grant of £30,000 from the Irish par-
liament is among the imaginary gains of the duke ; and doubtless it is
an honourable testimony of public approbation: but if the Irish parlia-
ment really imagined that it was any thing more, they committed an
oversight of considerable magnitude, as their grant was coupled with
conditions which turned it into a grant to the duke's tenants, and not
to himself. The whole of the remaining grants fell far short of his
great losses, and were not in any case more than partially paid. We
may conclude on this by extracting the statement of Carte, where the
whole can be seen at a glance.

Tlie Duke of Ormonde, creditor.

To loss of nine years income of his estate in Ire-
land, from October, 1641, to December, 1650,
£20,000 a-year, £180,000 0 0

To spoil, and waste of timber, buildings, &c, on it, 50,000 0 0

To debts contracted by the service of the crown

during the troubles, 130,000 0 0

To seven years rents of his estate, from 1653, to
1660, recoverable from the adventurers and
soldiers that possessed it, .... 140,000 0 0

To the value of estates forfeited to him by breach
of conditions, the remainders whereof were
vested in him, but given up by the act of expla-
nation, . 319,061 5 0

£869,061 5

To arrears of pay as lord-lieutenant, commissioned

officer, &c, 62,736 9 8

To ditto, for fourteen months, from July, 1 647, to

September, 1648, at the rate of the allowance of

£7893 a-year to the earl of Leicester, during

his absence from Ireland, .... 9,208 10 0

To ditto, for nine years and four months, from

December, 1660, to June, 1669, . . . 73,668 0 0

Total of losses and credits, . £1,014,671 4 8

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 277

The Duke of Ormonde, debtor.
By receipts on the £30,000 act in Ireland, . £26,440 0 0

By ditto, on the grant of £71,916, . . . 63,129 10 8

By ditto, on the £50,000, granted by the explana-
tion act, ....... 25, 1 96 111

By savings on the grant of forfeited mortgages and

incumbrances, ...... 5,655 12 10

By rents received from the lands given up by the

explanatory act, ...... 5,626 2 6

By houses, &c, on Kilkenny, Clonmel, &c, valued

by commissioners at £840 12s. a-year, at ten

years purchase, . . . . . . 8,406 0 0

By lands allotted on account of his arrears, set at

first for £1194, but afterwards improved and

set in 1681 at £1594 a-year, but being subject to

a quit-rent of £449 a year, their improved yearly

value is but £1 165 at ten years purchase, . 1 1,650 0 0

Total of profit, .... £146,083 7 11

Total losses and dues to the duke of Ormonde, £1,014,674 4 8
Deduct as by particular of profits, . . . 146,083 7 11

So that the duke's losses by the troubles and settle-
ment of Ireland, exceeded his profits . . £868,590 16 9

This statement has the best authority, as it has been drawn not from
any loose verbal account, or any individual representation prepared to
meet objections, but from the careful comparison of several accompts
and vouchers belonging to the actual agency of the duke's affairs, and
selected from the mass of his private papers, drawn up by his agents.*
They leave no doubt upon the one fact, that the whole result of all
the main transactions of his public life was loss to the enormous amount
of the above sum — nearly a million. The truth indeed is otherwise so
apparent, that it is not easy to understand the insinuations of a certain
class of historians, but by allowing largely for the fact that narrow
and illiberal minds are incapable of comprehending any motives that
are not low and sordid. We do not, for our own part, insist upon a
perfect freedom from motives of a personal and interested nature,
either for the duke of Ormonde, or any other man, as shall appear in
the estimate which we shall presently have to offer of the great man
who has occupied so large a portion of our notice.

The virtues which rendered the duke of Ormonde's character proof
against a virulence of factious and personal animosity, armed with a
degree of influence and authority under which any other person of his
generation must have sunk a victim, was itself the main cause of all that
enmity, and contributed to its increase during the six years which he
spent in England. In this interval, the real dignity of his character
was placed in a more conspicuous light than often happens in the
history of eminent men. The circle in which he daily moved was

* Carte, II. p. 408.

278 TP,AXSTTTOK-=POLITTCAL.

singularly distinguished by talent and profligacy, and combined all the
lofty and brilliant pretensions which, so combined, can make vice im-
posing and cast virtue into the shade: every aim, act, and thought,
was a mockery of all grace and goodness, and the whole scene, with
all its actors and actresses, was a vanity-fair of intrigue, corruption,
infidelity, and indecency. Amidst this trying scene, the duke of Or-
monde may be said to have " stood alone:" hated by the insolent cour-
tier; feared by the corrupt and small-minded, but not malignant, mon-
arch, who in the midst of his folly, weakness, and vice, had enough of
natural g-ood sense and tact to see and feel the real greatness of a
servant of whom he was not worthy: an object of the most inveterate
dislike to the miscreant combination of useless talents and efficient
vices which ruled the ascendant at court; and of aversion and detesta-
tion to the abandoned women, whose favour was there the only road
to a perverted respect and favour: the duke held his position unwarped
from his high course and unabashed by the meretricious insolence of the
court: neither assuming on one side the haughtiness of principle, nor on
the other, condescending to countenance what he did not approve, or con-
ciliate those whom he despised; but calmly and steadily watching for the
occasion to do good, or neutralize evil. He was indeed disliked at court
chiefly because he refused to countenance those degraded women, who
humbled themselves that they might be exalted, in a sense widely differ-
ing from the divine precept ; and the king, who was ruled entirely by
these, and by persons who stooped to court their good offices, was com-
pelled to preserve a demeanour of the utmost reserve to him, scarcely
looking at him, and only addressing him when he could not avoid it.
Nevertheless, he seldom failed to appear at court and take his place
at the council, where he always gave his opinion frankly, and without
either reserve or deference to any. Such was the general posture
which he held in this interval: one far more trying to him than the
embarrassments and emerg-encies of his official life. The remarks of
his biographer on this period of his history should not be omitted: —
" His grace remained for several years after in court, under great
eclipse and mortifications ; but, having a peculiar talent of bearing mis-
fortunes with an invincible patience, the bystanders thought this to be
the most glorious part of his life ; and this was the very expression of his
grace archbishop Sheldon to me on this occasion. However, in this state,
he spared not to be chiefly instrumental to get the Irish innocents dis-
charged from their quit-rents, and to free tbem also from satisfying the
demands about the lapse-money,* &c, and to contribute in everything
to do them justice, notwithstanding their animosities against him/'f

The disfavour of the court did not protect the duke from the ani-
mosity of those who lived in the sunshine of its favour ; even in dis-
grace his greatness could not be forgiven by those to whom to be
virtuous alone was a full ground for the bitterest enmity ; even in ad-
versity and neglect, he was pursued with the animosity of defeated
competition ; his very existence seemed to cast a shadow on their
baseness; and as he could not be disgraced by calumny or impeached

* Lnpse-money was a sum of money deposited, which, if the purchase of lands
was not completed by a certain time, was to be forfeited by the act of settlemert

t Southwell.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 279

by real chicaneries, nothing remained but assassination. We may
here instance the attempt to assassinate him by Blood, who, there is
little doubt, was in the pay of Buckingham, although something may
be allowed for private enmity. Enmity alone, when the cause is con-
sidered, would not have been sufficient to induce an attempt of such
singular desperation : the prosecution of Blood, as an active ring-
leader of insurrection by the lord-lieutenant, was so merely official,
that it was in a great measure divested of all personal character.

The duke had attended the prince of Orange to an entertainment
made for him by the city of London, and was on his return home.
The hour was late, and the night dark ; he had reached St James'
ctreet, at the end of which he then resided in Clarendon house; his
six footmen, who ordinarily walked on the street on each side of his
coach, had loitered, and there was nobody near but the coachman,
when suddenly as the coach entered the Hay Market, (then a road,)
it was surrounded by five horsemen : they dragged the duke from
the carriage, and mounted him on a horse behind the rider, who
was a large and strong man. The coachman drove as fast as he
could to Clarendon house, which was fortunately at hand, and there
gave an alarm to the porter, and to a Mr Jamt , Clarke, who was
waiting in the court ; these immediately gave chase, and ordered the
other servants to follow as fast as they could. In the mean time the
mysterious horsemen pursued their way: they could have killed the
duke with ease, and made their escape in the darkness of the night,
but the inveterate temper of Blood, or of his employer, was unsatisfied
with such a simple execution of their intent. It was perhaps thought
that assassination would lose its atrocity by using the implements of
public justice; whatever was the feeling, Blood determined to hang
the duke at Tyburn. This resolution saved the duke; preserving his
usual composure, he calculated that he should be pursued, and judged
that the principal chance in his favour would be secured by delay.
Blood rode on for the purpose of preparing the gallows. The duke
availed himself of the circumstance, and by struggling violently with
the miscreant who rode before him, he prevented him from going-
faster than a walk: they had got as far as Knightsb ridge, when the
duke, suddenly placing his foot under the man's, and clasping him
firmly, threw himself off; and both coming to the ground, a struggle
commenced in the mud, in which the duke, though at the time of this
incident, in his sixty-third year, resisted all the efforts of his antago-
nist until lord Berkeley's porter came out from Berkeley house, before
which the struggle had taken place: the duke's own servants now also
came up. On their appearance, the fellow disengaged himself, and
got on horseback; but before he made his retreat he fired a case of
pistols at the duke. It was however too dark for an aim, and he
was in too great a hurry to escape, as numbers of people had by
this time taken the alarm, and a crowd was rushing together from
every quarter. The duke was quite exhausted by the long struggle,
and much wounded, bruised and shaken by the heavy fall, and it was
found necessary to carry him home, where he was for some days con-
fined to his bed.

The perpetrator of this daring outrage was not discovered for some

2S0

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

time, until an attempt to steal the crown and regalia from the Tower,
led to his seizure. The king, who seems to have had some weakness
in favour of dissolute characters, was curious to see Blood, and to ex-
amine him himself, and the adroit ruffian had the tact to catch the
character of his royal examiner at a glance. He won his favour by
the assumption of the most cool audacity, acknowledged every fact,
and gave such reasons as best suited the purpose and the temper of the
king. Among other things, he was asked why he attempted the duke
of Ormonde's life.? he answered that the duke had caused his estate
to be taken away, and that he and many others had bound themselves
to be revenged. He now told the king that he had been engaged with
others to assassinate himself, by shooting him " with a carabine from
out of the reeds by the Thames' side, above Battersea, where he often
went to swim: that the cause of his resolution was his majesty's sever-
ity over the consciences of the godly [he must have had strange ideas
of godliness] in suppressing the freedom of their religious assemblies;
but when he had taken his stand in the reeds for that purpose, his
heart misgave him out of an awe of his majesty, and he not only re-
lented himself, but diverted his companions from their design." He
then told the king-, " that he had laid himself sufficiently open to the
law, and he might reasonably expect to feel the utmost of its rigour,
for which he was prepared, and had no concern on his own account.
But it would not prove a matter of such indifference to his majesty;
for there were hundreds of his friends yet undiscovered, who were all
bound to each other by the indispensable oaths of conspirators, to re-
venge the death of any of the fraternity upon those wTho should bring
them to justice, which would expose the king and all his ministers to
daily fears and apprehensions of a massacre. But on the other side,
if his majesty would spare the lives of a few, he might oblige the
hearts of many, who (as they had been seen to attempt daring
mischiefs) would be as bold and enterprising (if received to pardon
and favour) in performing eminent services to the crown."

The effect of this bravado upon the king might well have been cal-
culated upon: Blood was pardoned. The dastardly spirit from which
this mockery of mercy proceeded, was broadly distinguished from
heroic magnanimity and royal clemency, by the derogatory and dis-
graceful addition of a pension and of royal favour. Decorum required
that the duke's consent should be obtained, and Blood was desired to
write to him: lord Arlington went from the king to inform his grace
that it was his majesty's desire that he should pardon Blood: the duke
answered, " that if the king could forgive him the stealing of his crown,
he might easily forgive him the attempt on his life,* and since it was
his majesty's pleasure, that was a reason sufficient for him, his lord-
ship might spare the rest.""]" Blood was not only pardoned, but had
an estate of £500 a-year settled on him in Ireland, and was admitted
to that inner circle of court favour, to which indeed it is to be ad-
mitted, he was no inappropriate accession. To these remarks we may
here add those with which Carte concludes his account of the transac-
tion:— " No man more assiduous than he, in both the secretaries offices.

* Carte.

f Ibii

If any one had a business at court that stuck, he made his appli-
cation to Blood, as the most industrious and successful solicitor, and
many gentlemen courted his acquaintance, as the Indians pray to the
devil that he may not hurt them. He was perpetually in the royal
apartments, and affected particularly to be in some room where the
duke of Ormonde was, to the indignation of all others, though ne-
glected and overlooked by his grace. All the world stood amazed at
this mercy, countenance, and favour, shown to so atrocious a malefac-
tor, the reason and meaning of which they could not see nor com-
prehend. The general opinion was, that Blood was put upon this as-
sassination by the duke of Buckingham and the duchess of Cleveland,
who both hated the duke of Ormonde mortally, and were powerful
advocates to solicit and obtain his pardon. The reason assigned by
the criminal for his attempt upon the duke was considered as a mere
excuse, for his grace had done nothing particularly against him, more
than against others concerned with him in the same conspiracy, and
put into the same proclamation. If Blood's estate at Sarney was for-
feited for his treason, and upon his attainder granted by his majesty
to Toby Barnes; or if his accomplices were executed after a full con-
viction, all this was done in the full course of government, and must
have been done by any other lord lieutenant, as well as the duke of
Ormonde. Blood knew very well his own guilt, and had no reason
to resent any thing in this proceeding of his grace; nor do acts merely
ministerial use to produce in any, such resentments as cannot be satis-
fied without the assassination of a minister, who, in the discharge of
his duty and the trust reposed in him by his prince, could not have
spared his own father in the same case."* Carte adds several argu-
ments to prove that there was no person so likely to be the instigator
of this attempt as the duke of Buckingham. Among these, one of great
weight is derived from the fact, that the designs of this splendid villain
were materially interfered with by the mere presence of the duke of
Ormonde. There was some discouragement in the very existence of
an enemy whose character was hedged round by the respect of all the
wise and good: the intrinsic value of whose opinions on every concern of
importance gave him a degree of weight even in the council ; and who,
considering the unsettled and dangerous condition of Ireland, was
still likely to be entrusted again with power, and to obtain without an
effort, the restoration of those honours, appointments, and influence,
which his unprincipled and in every way unworthy rival was working
through a hundred dirty channels to secure for himself and his accom-
plices.

We must, for the present, pass by the history of Irish affairs : they
are indeed of little historical interest, and may be more fully brought
together in some one of the following memoirs, as belonging to the
train of events and circumstances which preceded and accompanied
the revolution of 1688. During this period of his life — one of court
disfavour, but of honour in the better judgment of Europe — the duke of
Ormonde was engaged in the council upon the consideration of ali
matters relative to English or foreign affairs, but entirely excluded

* Vol. II.

282 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

from the committee on the affairs of Ireland. It is true that he was
appealed to by that class of the Roman catholics, who had refused to
accede to the communications of their brethren with the Roman court,
and who had joined in the remonstrance: there was at this time a
secret court-party in favour of the views of that court, and the ultra-
papists were not only favoured, but their enmity against their more
moderate and loyal brethren seconded by acts of persecution which we
shall not now detail. They applied to the duke, who wrote in their
favour to the lord-lieutenant, but to no other purpose but that of
drawing upon himself the mortification of a slight. We here add a
part of one of the duke's letters on this subject, as it sufficiently ex-
plains the whole, and places his conduct in its proper light: — " And
now, my lord, that you may not judge me to be impertinent in my in-
terposition in the matter, and in your government, give me leave to
tell you why I take myself to lie under more than the ordinary obli-
gation of a counsellor to mind his majesty of the remonstrators, and
to endeavour to free them from the slavery and ruin prepared for them
for that reason, however other pretences are taken up. Some of those
very remonstrators, and other of their principles are and were those
who opposed the rebellious violence of the nuncio and his party, when
the king's authority then in my hands was invaded, and at length ex-
pelled that kingdom, for which they suffered great vexation in foreign
parts, when the fear of the usurpers had driven them out of their own
country. These are the men who, on the king's return, in their re-
monstrance disowned the doctrine upon which those proceedings 01"
the nuncio were founded; and these are the men very particularly re-
commended by the king to my care and encouragement, during all the
time of my government. And now, I leave it to your lordship to judge,
whether in duty to the king, with safety to my reputation, or in hon-
esty to them, I can receive so many complaints of oppression from
them as I do, and not endeavour that at least they may quietly enjoy
their share of that indulgence which his majesty vouchsafes to others
of their profession, free from those disturbances which are given them
upon that account by those who abetted the contrary proceedings. I
have drawn this to a greater length than is necessary, being directeo
to one so reasonable as your excellency, but it is my desire to acquit
myself from the imputation of so mean a thing as seems to be laid to
my charge, and to show that in this matter I have done nothing but
what may consist with my being as I am, — My lord, &c,

" Ormonde."*

In 1 673, the lady Thurles, mother to the duke, died at the advanced
age of eighty-six. He had for some time meditated a visit to Ireland, and
his determination was probably hastened by this event. He was per-
haps also wearied with the long continuance of galling humiliations
which he was compelled to sustain in his attendance at court, and
under which any one but himself must long before have given way. By
this time, at which we are arrived, these annoyances had greatly in-
creased: so great was become the ascendance of the rout of knaves

* Carte, II.

THE BUTLERS—JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 283

and prostitutes, which made up the Comus court of Charles, that the
duke, without any distinct quarrel with the king-, was universally under-
stood to be out of favour. No one in habitual attendance, or in any way
dependent on the smiles of courtiers and their patronesses, dared speak
to the lord steward, whom it was, says Southwell,* "a melancholy sight"
to see walking alone along- the galleries with his white rod of office.
The king, who really esteemed the duke, was not exempt from this
degrading- influence, and was under the awkward necessity of main-
taining an air of neglect towards one whom he could not help feeling
to be greater than himself. The duke maintained his wonted high
and grave composure in the midst of all this tinselled insignificance
and varnished display of pride and scorn, and the monarch sometimes
felt his own littleness and stood abashed. One day when the duke was
engaged in conversation with a company of foreign noblemen who
attended the court, this effect became so apparent, that the duke of
Buckingham galled by the superiority of one who repaid his hate with
scornful indifference, could not help stepping up to the king, and whis-
pering in his ear, " I wish your majesty would resolve me one ques-
tion, whether it be the duke of Ormonde that is out of favour with
your majesty, or your majesty that is out of favour with the duke of
Ormonde? for of the two, you really look the most out of countenance."
In fact, the king not only avoided speaking to the duke, but constantly
endeavoured to avoid his eye, " by industrious looking another way,"f
though occasionally in moments of embarrassment, he would take
him aside to ask his advice. One of these occasions is related by
Carte, when having given the seals to Shaftesbury, he took the
duke aside into the recess of a window and asked him if he did right:
the duke replied, "your majesty has no doubt acted very prudently in
so doing, if you knew how to get them from him again."

But to return to our narrative, the duke now came to the resolution
to return to Ireland and look after his own affairs. He left Claren-
don house in the beginning of .June, with the duchess and family, and
proceeded to Bath, the waters of which had been advised for his gout.
After remaining there for a fortnight, he sailed for Waterford, and
arrived there after a fair passage of twenty hours, on the 27th June,
1674. From thence he went to Kilkenny, and soon after to Dublin,
in order to pay due respect to the earl of Essex, then lord-lieutenant
of Ireland. But this lord, infected with the general disease of court
antipathy, and offended by the popular reception of the duke by the
city of Dublin, received him with a coldness which was not only felt
by the duke, but noticed with general indignation. In Dublin, and
still more in the county of Kilkenny, the demonstrations of public
respect and affection were so remarkable as to give a full and not very
gratifying refutation to the notion which had been long and industri-
ously circulated, that he was disliked in Ireland. In Kilkenny he
amused his leisure with the usual recreations of country life, having
like every active-spirited person inured to rural life, a strong taste for
hunting and hawking.

It was during this period of the duke's life that his eminent son, the

* Life of Ormonde. t Carie.

234 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

earl of Ossory, the heir of his worth and taleut, though unhappily not
of his honours, was rising- into illustrious eminence, by his distinguished
services in the navy, when he rose to the rank of admiral. We shall
notice the main incidents of his life in a separate memoir. But we
must here take the occasion to present the reader with a new and most
interesting aspect of the duke's character, which may perhaps have
hitherto been looked for as an essential feature; for never in a christian
country, and in the record of christian ages, has there been a charac-
ter like the duke's without piety. When we look to his moderation
in success, his calmness in the most trying difficulties, and his noble
resignation under the combined visitations of wounding slander, the
ingratitude of the court, and the embarrassment of his private affairs;
when we contemplate his constant and strenuous maintenance of the
protestant church, and the devotion he showed to the maintenance of
those principles which he regarded as sacred, with the perfect disin-
terestedness shown by his ready and frequent abandonment of all those
advantages which are mostly the entire aims of public men; we are com-
pelled to search for the profound and elevated principle which sustained
him throughout, one, so far beyond the standard of worldly worth and
wisdom, in some influence above their range. On this subject we are
enabled not only to offer the valuable testimony of his old and faithful
friend, Sir R. Southwell, but the still more direct proof of his own
devotional compositions, which indicate a high and pure as well as fer
vent and zealous devotion, breathing the language of every christian
grace: — "I continued," writes Southwell, "for this month with his
grace, and lay so near him, as often in the night to hear him at his
devotions. He had composed some excellent prayers on several occa-
sions, which have since appeared among his papers. He would often
discourse to me of the emptiness of all worldly things — of honours,
riches, favour, cttid even of family and posterity itself." Of the prayers
mentioned in this extract, we here insert that which was the fruit of
the duke's affliction on the death of his illustrious son.

His prayer and humiliation on the death of his son, the earl of Ossory.

" O God, by whom and in whom we live, move, and have our being,
I own and adore thy justice, and magnify thy mercy and goodness, in
that thou hast taken from me, and to thyself, my dear and beloved son.
My sins have called for this correction, and thou didst hold thy
hand till thy patience was justly wearied by my continual and unre-
pented transgressions; thou gavest thy blessed Son for my redemption;
and that such redemption offered on the cross for me, might not be
fruitless, thou hast sent this affliction to call me to repentance, and to
make me inwardly consider and behold that Saviour whom my accursed
sins have nailed to the cross and p'erced to the heart.

" From my childhood to my declined age thou hast made use of all
thv wondrous and manifold methods of drawing me a sinner to amend-
ment and obedience; but alas! how hitherto have they been in vain?
Thou madest me prosperous and unsuccessful, poor and rich; thou
broughtest me into dangers, and gavest me deliverance — leddest me
into exile, and broughtest me home with honour; and yet none of thy
dispensations have had natural or reasonable effect upon me: they have

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 285

been resisted and overcome by an obdurate sensuality. So that, if in
thy infinite mercy thou wilt yet make any further experiment upon me,
and not leave me to myself, the most heavy of all judgments, what can
I expect, but that afflictions should be accumulated till my gray hairs
be brought with sorrow to the grave! This, O Lord, is my portion,
and it is justly due to me: I lay my mouth in the dust, and humbly
submit to it; yet, gracious God, give me leave with comfort to remem-
ber that thy mercy is infinite, and over all thy works. In that mercy,
and merits of my Redeemer, Jesus Christ, look upon me ; turn thy face
to me, and thy wrath from me. Let this sore affliction melt or break
my heart; let it melt it into godly sorrow, or let the hardness of it be
even yet broken by heavier calamities: however, at last return, O
Lord, and heal me, and leave a blessing behind thee: the blessing of a
true repentance, and a constant amendment; the blessing of fervent
devotion, of universal obedience to thy holy laws, and of unshaken per-
severance in the ways of thee my God.

" This I beg in the name, and for the sake of the all-sufficient sacri-
fice and merits of my blessed Redeemer, in the words he hath left us
to pray."

During his stay in Ireland, it also happened that his third son, lord
John, was married to the lady Ann Chichester, heiress to the earl of
Donegal. He was created earl of Gowran ; but died in the following
year, owing to disease contracted by the excesses of his youth. While
he was in his last illness, the duke wrote him a letter, which the bishop
of Worcester described to Carte as one of the finest specimens ot
moral and christian remonstrance he had ever seen. He had, how-
ever, unfortunately lost the copy of it, which he had been unable to
obtain. In relation to the dissolute habits of the same young lord, a
mot of the duke is preserved. A friend of the duke's family had built
a chapel, and had solicited among his acquaintances for contributions
of an ornamental nature, to set off the interior. When Mr Cottington
visited the duke, he told him of his son's munificent gift of the ten
commandments, for the altar-piece. The duke observed, in reply, "he
can readily part with things that he does not care to keep himself."

The duke's retirement was at last to receive a temporary interruption;
and whether reluctantly or not, he was doomed to be once more involved
in the turmoil of affairs. The situation of the king was becoming in-
volved in perplexity. He was by nature, and by the principles he held,
unfit for the time : his religious persuasion placed him in a false posi-
tion. Secretly pledged to one line of action, and to the support of one
interest, he was loudly called on by the voice of Europe, and by the ex-
pectation of England, to pursue an opposite course and take a different
part. He was, rather by the revolutions of European politics than by
his own power, called on to act as the arbiter of the Continent; and his
people expected that he should support the protestant interest. The
heart of England was with the Prince of Orange, who was universally
regarded as the champion of protestantism throughout Europe; while
on the other hand, Charles and his brother, the duke of York, were
by every tie bound to the king of France The king was slowly and
reluctantly compelled to give way to his parliament, which he en-
deavoured to cajole; and some disgraceful and unconstitutional pro-

ceedings took place, during- which a breach occurred between him
and his minion, Buckingham, who was beginning to wax too licentious
in his insolence, and too extravagant and dangerous in his freakish
politics, to be ensily endured by one who knew his baseness, and had
only countenanced him for his companionable vices. In the midst of
the perplexities of this busy period, the affairs of Ireland became
troublesome, and the king felt himself compelled to have recourse to
the duke of Ormonde.

The Norwich frigate was ordered to Waterford for the duke, and
he, though beginning to feel the necessity of quiet to his bodily
health, could not refuse to obey. It was indeed, he felt, a critical mo-
ment for the protestant interests, and his presence was wanting. At
first, indeed, on his arrival in London, he was disappointed to find that
the king, whose temper was the weathercock which shifted with every
breath of persuasion, had in that short interval fallen into a relapse of
his usual feebleness: he seemed to have been sent for to be treated with
neglect. He was thinking of a return to Ireland, when he was again
sent for, and his advice asked on the affairs of Ireland. The principal
subject to be discussed was a question on the farming of the revenue:
there were two undertakers, Mr George Pitt and viscount Ranelagh;
Ranelagh had been under great obligations to the duke of Ormonde,
but coming over from Ireland, he joined the cabal against him. He
made such representations to the king, that he obtained a contract for
the management of the Irish revenue, in consequence of which great
discontents were soon excited in Ireland. The people and the king soon
found reason to complain ; and it was thought that lord Ranelagh alone
was not a loser by the contract. When the duke's advice was asked,
he exposed in detail the sufferings of the Irish people, and the frauds of
the undertakers. Ranelagh, irritated by such an exposure, and fearing
for his suit, made a long speech at the board ; in the course of which
he observed, that for a period of ten years before his undertaking, the
revenue had been very much mismanaged: this he repeated so often,
and coupled it with so many insinuations, that the duke insisted upon
his being compelled to explain himself. For this purpose he was or-
dered to attend at a board held for the purpose. The king was him-
self present, when the following conversation took place. After the
lord-keeper informed lord Ranelagh that he was summoned to explain
certain expressions which seemed to involve reflections upon the con-
duct of the duke of Ormonde : lord Ranelagh answered: — "My pur-
pose was not to reflect on my lord of Ormonde, or any body else; but
to give his majesty a state of his affairs, as they stood before my un-
dertaking.

" Duke of Ormonde. — But your lordship was pleased to name often
the word mismanagement; and if that related to the time that I gov-
erned, it must reflect upon me, and I am willing to give your lordship
all manner of provocation, to speak plain in that particular.

"Lord Ranelagh. — I named nobody, but the things themselves will
lead to the persons. I am content what I said be referred to a com-
mittee for examination. For if I said your majesty's affairs were mis-
managed, it was true, and it plainly so appeared to your majesty, by

v

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 287

■what I said; and I say so again, that the management was as had as
possibly could be.

" Duke of Ormonde. — Sir, I am of opinion with that noble lord, that
the things themselves will find out the persons; and I also join issue
with him in the expedient of a committee, and pray your majesty, that
matters be transacted in writing, that what is alleged on either side
may be more liable to this examination. For, I think long accounts
use not to be stated by an oration; and that in such a discourse when
well studied and long thought on, there may as well be conveyed in it
a libel as a vindication.

'■'•Lord Ranelagh. — My lord, I think short speeches may contain
as much libel in them as long ones.

"Duke of Ormonde — But, Sir, I desire to hear it laid to my charge,
that I mismanaged your affairs. That is the thing still insinuated,
though not said ; and therefore I must challenge the proof of that
mismanagement, or charge the informer with untruth.

" Lord Ranelagh. — Sir, I thought this had not been a place for such
expressions; and I shall here find myself at some disadvantage.

" The king. — No, no, — untruth — that —

" Duke of Ormonde Sir, I said untruth ; and there is no man what-
ever, who exceeds me not in quality, to whom I will not say the same,
till his proofs do show the contrary. My lord was pleased to say, he
named no man; but by experience of his lordship's dealings towards
me, I have sufficient motives to keep me from imagining he meant any
one else: and yet I presume to think, that for the time of my manage-
ment there, I can show your majesty as fair accounts as any man
whatsoever. And pray, my lord, since you will not name the persons,
what are the things you call this mismanagement?

"Lord Ranelagh. Sir, I call that mismanagement, when your ma-
jesty's revenue, that is intended for the public, and to the payment of
your majesty's establishment civil and military, shall be diverted by
private warrants, contrary to instructions, and your army thereby be
left so shamefully in arrear.

"Duke of Ormonde — Sir, if my lord can name any one private war-
rant issued to my proper advantage, or by my own authority, let him
name it.

"Lord Ranelagh — No, my lord, I cannot say that such warrants
were to your own advantage; but I say that the private interest in
such things was preferred to the public.

"Duke of Ormonde. — Why then, my lord, since you will not name
one of that kind, I will; and that was a warrant to pay your lordship
£1000, which was, I am sure, not to my account, but to your own.
However, you brought a warrant from his majesty, who did command
it, and I gave obedience.

"Lord Ranelagh. — I confess I had £1000, but it was in part of a
greater debt due to my father, and all that I had for fifteen years*
service.

" Duke of Ormonde — Sir, I am well content that all these matters
be referred to the examination of a committee, and I pray you give
your commands to the lord Ranelagh, to put all in writing.

" Lord Ranelagh I am ready to do so whenever your majesty

commands."

His lordship being withdrawn, the lord-keeper said, surely to give
obedience to your majesty's commands is no mismanagement, nor ought
to be reputed as such. Whereupon it was ordered that lord Ranelagh
should give in a state of the fact, and the particulars of the misman-
agement for the ten years before his undertaking.

Lord Ranelagh continued to spin out the time in various delays, for
several months, but was at length compelled on an application from the
duke to bring forth his statement. It was replied to by the duke, in
a paper of considerable length, and remarkable clearness and ability.*
On a full investigation of both statements before the council, the king
declared the duke's statement to be perfectly satisfactory. On this
head, it only remains to be added, that on the subsequent examination
of lord Ranelagh's own accounts, they were not found so clear from
fault, as the result was a decree against him for £76,000, and he was
only enabled to escape the consequences by obtaining the king's pardon.

The discussion was in the highest degree serviceable to Ireland, as
it placed before the king and council a most plain and perspicuous view
of Irish affairs, and enabled them to perceive the selfish intrigues of
which that kingdom had been the principal victim, with the comparative
merits and demerits of the parties by whom they had been carried on;
and lastly, the conspicuous integrity and wisdom of the entire conduct
of the duke of Ormonde. This result was soon apparent: in the month
of April, 1677, the king, who for a year had avoided speaking to the
duke, sent a message that he would come and sup with him. He came
accordingly : the entertainment was costly, and the conversation was
gay, unrestrained and cordial ; but all passed without the slightest
allusion to political affairs, until the king was departing, when he sig-
nified to the duke his design to employ him again in Ireland, for the
government of which he publicly declared him to be the fittest person.
Of this indeed every one was fully sensible, insomuch that nothing
but the baneful influence of court intrigues and interests had prevented
the fact from being sooner recognised. But a court intrigue was now
in effect the means of removing the obstruction which had so long
withheld the king from doing justice. The duke of York, who hated
the duke of Ormonde for his protestant zeal, was now alarmed by an
endeavour to obtain the government of Ireland for the duke of Mon-
mouth, whose intrigues to be declared heir to the throne of England
might in the event become formidable. To avert this consequence,
all other sacrifices of prejudice were slight, and none but a person of
the first talent and integrity, whose appointment would satisfy the na-
tion and arrest the expectation of the bastard prince, could be relied
upon. Under this sense the duke of York not only withdrew his op-
position, but it is thought lent himself warmly to the appointment of
one whose character he respected, and in whose stanch and untainted
honesty and firmness he had the fullest confidence.

The duke of Ormonde set out for Ireland in the beginning of August.
On his way he stopped at Oxford, and was splendidly received and

* This will be found in Carte, II. 454.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 283

entertained by the university, as its chancellor.* He had deferred his
arrival until after commencements ; as it was feared that he might be
pressed to give degrees to many persons of rank in his train, whose
pretensions were not acceptable to the university. Though the usual
time was past, and tbe ceremonial of commencements over, many were
urgent in soliciting for the honour of a degree; but the duke only created
twenty doctors, one of whom was his son, the earl of Arran, and the
viscounts Galmoy and Longford, Robert Fitz-Gerald a son of the earl
of Kildare, and some other gentlemen of high rank, all being of his own
immediate retinue.

The earl of Essex had received permission to consult his own choice,
as to the manner of resigning the government; and his conduct was
complimentary to his successor. He would in any other case have de-
livered the regalia to the lords-justices; but as he wrote in his letter of
April 28th — " since his majesty hath been pleased to pitch upon a
person who had so much experience in all the affairs of this kingdom,
and so eminent for his loyalty, this made him stay till his grace should
arrive, that he might himself put the sword into his hand:" he not only
remained for the duke's arrival, but himself ordered the ceremonies
with which he was to be received.

The duke had upon former occasions suffered so much vexation on
account of the frauds which had been committed by those who had
been entrusted with the revenue departments, that he now made it his
special care to endeavour to detect and control all malversations of this
description. For this purpose the king's instructions were so framed
as to bring all orders concerning grants, money, the releasing or
abating of agents on crown debts, under the control of English officers,
after being submitted to the investigation of the lord-lieutenant. So
that he was no longer liable to be made answerable for mismanae-e-
ment, neglect or fraud, which he had no power to control. Other
arrangements of the like effectual nature were made to guard against
the alienation of any part of the revenue, until the civil and military
establishments should first be fully provided for. And by these, and a
variety of wise provisions and precautions suggested or adopted by
the duke, the army was brought into condition, and the whole estab-
lishment rendered efficient and economical.

During the three years which it required to effect these great and
beneficial changes, the duke managed to effect many public improve-
ments : he laid the foundation of the military hospital near Kilmainham,
and built Charlesfort to secure the harbour of Kinsale. Every fort in
tne kingdom was in ruin, and the expenses necessary to put the country
into a state of defence were found, on accurate inspection, to be so far
beyond any means at his command, that he considered it advisable to
call a parliament. Many evils were to be remedied, and many abuses in
the settlements of property to be corrected, to quiet the apprehensions
of the public, and repress the progress of an oppressive and exasperating
chicanery on the pretence of commissions of inquiry; and the king
assented to the duke's wish; but the explosion of that vile conspiracy,
known by the name of the popish plot, broke out, and for a time put a
stop to every other proceeding.

* Carte, II. 46.

ii. t Ir.

290 TRANSITION— POLITICAL.

The difficulties into which the duke was thus thrown were not incon-
siderable. The impression produced by the belief of this imposture in
Ireland was likely to affect two opposite parties: there were those who
would be but too ready to enter with alacrity into any disaffected ac-
tion; and there were those who would g'ive way to suspicion and terror,
and exert the utmost of their influence to carry precaution to the ex-
treme of unjust severity. Against both the duke had to guard: he
took effectual means of prevention and restraint, without resorting to
any harshness ; and by his mild, though firm precautions, completely
kept off the dangerous infection of that spurious conspiracy — the most
strange compound of insane credulity and infamous perjury that stains
the records of history.

In the course of these proceedings, which demand no tedious detail,
the duke did not altogether escape from the usual efforts of his enemies
to calumniate him, and of violent political parties to influence his con-
duct according to their views. He held his course, unmoved by any
petty influences or considerations, carrying progressively into effect
such measures as tended to strengthen the security and the commercial
interests of the country. He held an even balance without giving li-
cence to the Romish persuasion, or lessening the security of the church
of England: and so far was this spirit of moderation carried in oppo-
sition to the clamour of missionaries of every persuasion, that he was
alternately accused on the opposite allegations of being a protestant,
or a popish governor, as best suited the design of the opposing party:
as he has himself remarked in a letter to Sir Robert Southwell: —
" It hath been my fortune, upon several occasions, to be taken by the
papists to be their greatest enemy, when it was thought that character
would have done me the greatest hurt: and sometimes to be their
greatest friend, when that would hurt me:" further on in the same
letter, he writes in reference to the rumours of conspiracy against his
life, by which it was constantly endeavoured to influence him; "it
seems now to be the papists' turn to endeavour to despatch me; the
other non-conformists have had theirs, and may have again, when they
shall be inspired from the same place, for different reasons, to attempt
the same thing. I know the danger I am and may be in, is a per-
cpiisite belonging to the place I am in; and so much envied for being
in; but I will not be frighted into a resignation, and will be found
alive or dead in it, till the same hand that placed me shall remove me.
I know well that I am born with some disadvantages, in relation to
the present conjuncture, besides my natural weakness and infirmities;
and such as I can no more free myself from, than I can from them.
My father lived and died a papist; and only I, by God's merciful provi-
dence, was educated in the true protestant relig-ion, from which I never
swerved towards either extreme, not when it was most dangerous to
profess it, and most advantageous to quit it. I reflect not upon
any who have held another course, but will charitably hope, that
though their changes happened to be always on the prosperous side,
yet they were made by the force of present conviction. My bro-
thers and sisters, though they were not very many, were very
fruitful, and very obstinate (they will call it constant) in their way;
their fruitfulness hath spread into a large alliance, and their ob-

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 291

stinacy hath made it altogether popish. It would he no small comfort
to me, if it had pleased God, it had been otherwise, that I might have
enlarged my industry to do them good, and serve them, more effectually
to them, and more safely to myself. But as it is, I am taught by
nature, and also by instruction, that difference in opinion concerning
matters of religion dissolves not the obligations of nature; and in con-
formity to this principle, I own not only that I have done, but that I
will do my relations of that or any other persuasion all the good I can.
But I profess at the same time, that if I find any of them who are
nearest to me acting or conspiring rebellion, or plotting against the
government and the religion established amongst us, I will endeavour
to bring them to punishment sooner than the remotest stranger to my
blood. I know professions of this kind are easily made, and therefore
sometimes little credited; but I claim some belief from my known
practice, having been so unfortunate as to have had my kinsmen in
rebellion; and so fortunate as to see some of them when I com-
manded in chief. Those that remain have, I hope, changed their
principles, as to rebellion; if they have not, I am sure they shall not
find I have changed mine."

At this period lord Shaftesbury, who was among the most violent
and dangerous enemies of the duke of Ormonde, suddenly changed his
party, and with them, in some measure, his grounds of hostility. For
a time he was engaged in the interests of the court, and exerted his
whole talent and zeal for the establishment of arbitrary power, and
the unconstitutional extension of the prerogative. While thus engaged,
it was his aim, as it had been that of the most licentious and unsteady,
but not more unprincipled Buckingham, to unseat the duke of Or-
monde, from the mere desire to obtain the lieutenancy of Ireland and
his place in the court: and being himself without any religion, he made
it his business to represent the duke as the enemy of toleration, and as
the persecutor of the Romish church. But the king having- made con-
cessions to the Commons, which impressed him with a conviction that
the line of policy he had pursued must not only fail, but eventually
lead to consequences dangerous to those by whom it had been promoted
and pursued, Shaftesbury at once changed sides, and with a versatility
at which no one was surprised, for his character was thoroughly known,
adopted the opinions and embraced the courses to which he had been
most diametrically opposed: he gave most unconcernedly the lie to his
whole life, in such a manner as would stamp his memory with disgrace,
were it not in some measure rescued by the lax morality among the
statesmen of every age. By the change he was transferred into better
company, and engaged in a course more honourable and beneficial in its
ends, though his motives continued as base, and the means he pursued
neither more honest nor more wise. He remained as much the enemy
of the duke of Ormonde as before: and as he had from the court side,
endeavoured to stigmatize him as the enemy of the papists, from that
of the country party he accused him of being their friend. By his
violence, his daring courses, and unscrupulous assertions, he gained upon
the fiery zeal and the party prejudice of the people and the house, and
gained an ascendant which made him dangerous to his personal oppo-
nents, and formidable to the court. Considering the duke of Ormonde

292

TRANSITION.— rOLITICAL.

as a main obstacle to the great design of promoting an insurrection m
Ireland, he strained every nerve not only to raise a strong party
against him, but to collect sufficient complaints to form articles ot'
impeachment. He made a speech in the lords' house, in which he
cast out several insinuations to the effect that the duke of Ormonde was
in favour of the papists, than which no charge could at the moment be
more injurious. He was replied to by lord Ossory, in a speech which
attracted great celebrity, and was compelled to retract his base and un-
warranted calumnies.

The duke, on learning of these movements among his enemies, pressed
strongly for leave to return to England. " I am now," he writes to
the secretary, " come to an age so fit for retirement, that I would be
content to purchase it at any rate but that of dishonour or prejudice
to my fortune and family." But the king was about to dissolve the par
liament, and saw no reason why the duke should leave Ireland at a mo-
ment so critical. The earl of Arlington having mentioned to him tbe
report that the duke was to be removed, he told him, " it was a
damned lie, and that he was satisfied while he was there, that the
kingdom was safe." He added that " the new ministry were for jost-
ling out his old faithful servants, and that while the duke of Ormonde,
lived, he should never be put out of that government."

The object of Shaftesbury and liis party, with regard to Ireland,
was mainly to contrive an insurrection; and for this purpose they set
on foot every spring of action they could grasp. They were unprinci-
pled men, who had mainly their own private interests at heart; but it
would be unfair to confound a small cabal of political adventurers with
the large and respectable body by whom they were supported ; like the
leaders of every party in every ag-e, whose views are their own, but
their strength is the public feeling, which they are compelled to serve
and not unwilling to betray, if treachery will serve their ends better
than good faith. Justice is due to the party, however we may estimate
the partisan. The duke of York's religion at the time was the subject of
great anxiety to the English public. Nor was it less the subject of ap-
prehension to all those who were attached to the royal family. Should
the duke succeed to the throne, the worst consequences were generally
apprehended to the church and protestant interests of the kingdom :
with more justice it was to be apprehended, that disaffection and revo-
lutionary action would be likely to set in, to an extent dangerous to the
throne. The duke alone, infatuated, rash, big-oted, and without judg-
ment, unconscious of the real dangers by which he was surrounded,
only thought to avail himself of a favourable juncture to increase the
power of the crown, and to prepare the way for the greater changes
of which he contemplated the execution. This feeble and narrow-
minded prince did not despair of effecting a revolution in favour of his
own church ; and, availing him of the increasing indolence of the king,
whose chief concern was the lethargic luxury of the sensual stye, to
which he had converted the British court, he became alert and busy
in the management of public affairs. The consequence was a strong
underworking of a most dangerous reaction, to the increase and diffu-
sion of which even those recent plots and exposures which appeared to
give an advantage to the court party in reality contributed. Though

the suspicion of popish plots had been made ridiculous, and persecution
hateful, and though a surface feeling of loyalty had been excited, yet
the real feelings of the British public had been measured and weighed;
the public attention had been excited by questions dangerous in prin-
ciple and tendency; and it was made apparent to the clear-eyed and
sagacious whose position enabled them to see what was working up in
the councils of every party, that there must shortly be a trial of strength
unfavourable to the court, perhaps fatal to the crown, still more pro-
bably to the reigning prince. Of this party, the unprincipled Shaftes-
bury was now the ostensible leader. However respectable was the
party to which he owed his strength, the means which he adopted were
worthy of himself: to produce confusion in Ireland, all the most flagi-
tious expedients, suborned informations, pretended plots and insidious
suggestions were resorted to for the purpose of compelling the duke of
Ormonde to quit his impartial and all-protecting and governing policy,
and to adopt that same fatal train of oppressive measures, by which
Parsons and his colleagues brought on the worst consequences of the
great rebellion in Ireland. And when these efforts failed to hurry
the duke of Ormonde a step out of the line of moderation, humanity,
and justice, in which he governed both parties without deferring to
the fears or prejudices of either; a new course was adopted, and a
successive train of manoeuvres was put in practice, for the twofold pur-
pose of carrying the plans of the faction which now headed the country
party into effect without the duke of Ormonde's consent ; and eventually
forcing him to resign. With this view they proposed to remodel the
privy council in Ireland, so as thus to secure such nominations as
should effectually place the administration of that country in their own
hands. This the king refused to permit. They then procured evidences
of a plot, which went no farther than the oppression of some individu-
als, and shall be noticed hereafter, so far as its importance merits.

The death of the gallant earl of Ossory taking place during these
annoyances, was a deep affliction, as well as a heavy prejudice to the
duke. His spirit and eloquence had much contributed to repress the
personal direction of their hostilities, and his death now gave an im-
pulse to their virulence. In about three weeks after, they began to
make interest for his removal, and held a consultation upon the fittest
person to succeed him: there was a warm contention between the lords
Essex and Halifax, which divided the party, which, however, at last
agreed in favour of Essex. But this cabal had no immediate result: the
king was for the moment determined to support the duke against a
faction which he considered hostile to the throne. Their premature
violence soon involved themselves in danger, and gave a triumph to the
court. The earl of Shaftesbury began to boast openly of his expecta-
tions of a triumph over the court, and made use of unguarded expres-
sions against the duke of York, of whom, among other things, he said
" he would make him as great a vagabond on the earth as Cain." The
king's party meanwhile were not wanting to themselves in a contest ot
deception and fraud: there was no resource too unworthy for their
honour, or too base for their dignity. As Shaftesbury had fabricated
a popish conspiracy, so the wisdom of the royal councils brought forth
a protestant plot. It is not indeed easy to imagine a more unsafe

294 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

experiment, at a moment when protestant England was labouring from
shore to shore with silent and suppressed indignation and apprehension.
But it served an immediate end: Shaftesbury was accused and sent
to the Tower, and his papers seized. A strong contest of subornation
prepared the way for his trial; but, notwithstanding the efforts of
the court, and the rashness of his language and conduct, nothing could
be proved against him on sufficient evidence : there was an unsigned
paper containing a plan for the government of the kingdom, by which the
king was to become entirely governed by the councils of Lord Shaftes-
bury, but it was not sufficiently authenticated to satisfy a jury which
was selected by the sheriffs, who were in favour of the accused. He
was tried upon suborned information, and acquitted by a packed jury,
yet the publication of the trial impressed the public mind with a strong
sense of his guilt, and of the reality of the conspiracy, and contributed
very much to the triumph of the king's party.

In the mean time, the ferment which had been raised bv the machi-
nations of Shaftesbury's faction in Ireland subsided, as their influence
declined: and the duke was desired to come over to England for a short
time. He appointed lord Arran his deputy, and left Dublin about the
middle of April, 1682. He was received in London with enthusiasm,
being met by so many persons of distinction, that " no spectator could
have imagined that the king and court were absent: he was attended
in this entry by twenty-seven coaches with six horses, and three hun-
dred gentlemen on horseback, with five of the king's trumpets, &c."*

In November the same year, the duke was advanced to the rank of
duke in the English peerage,-]' by king Charles, on the express ground
of having preserved tranquillity in Ireland, during the ferment caused
by the popish plot. On this occasion, a question arose, whether the
duke could retain the title of Ormonde, which he was reluctant to give
up, there being in England no territory bearing that name. It was,
however, decided by Sir William Dugdale, that as titles were no longer
territorial, a peer might be designated as he pleased.

The marriage of his grandson, the young earl of Ossory, took place
at this time. Several matches had been proposed, and were on differ-
ent grounds rejected by the duke. But the duke of York proposed a
match for the young earl with Miss Hyde, daughter of the earl of
Rochester, to which all parties gave a ready assent, and the young
couple were married.

The principal reason for sending for the duke is so interwoven with
a multiplicity of small details of the perplexed party - manoeuvres
which have exclusive reference to English history, that we cannot
here enter upon them in such a manner as would be satisfactory to the
reader, who, if curious, will find a great deal of minute detail in Burnet
and other contemporary writers. The violence of the party-contest
had overblown, and the court was allowed to pursue its intrigues
in comparative quiet; but within its bosom there were too many
anxious oppositions of feeling and interest for quiet. The king's min-
isters kept him on the stretch by their contentions ; and it was perhaps
felt that the anxious and dangerous question about the succession,
though it might be suppressed, was yet too deeply bound up with seri-
* Carte, II. 519. f Note in Southwell's Life of Ormonde.

mis and awakening- emergencies and difficulties, to be set at rest for
more than a short interval. The very triumphs which had been at-
tained, were such as to ascertain the true state of national feeling in
every part of the kingdom, to all who considered the probabilities in
the case of the king's death. The king's entire want of principle
would, during his life, prevent the collision that was to be sooner or
later expected. Free from obstinacy, as he was devoid of all fixed
principle, he could, when perils appeared to menace his conduct, un-
blushingly retrace his steps: content if in the strife he could secure the
means to pursue his pleasures and satisfy the rapacity of his mis-
tresses. The duke was ascertained to be a tyrant, devoid of all the
restraints of equity or humanity, resolute in his opinions, and, as
his conduct in Scotland had shown, fully capable of adopting the ut-
most stretches of despotism, to maintain their authority. With these
elements of disorder, fermenting in its recesses, the court was agitated
with internal apprehensions and divisions, the result of which was
that while all breathed the sentiments of devotion to the king, and of
subjection to the more decided will of the duke, there was a strong
sense of insecurity felt by both : and their whole conduct exhibits the
fact that, with the exception of the small and not very efficient party
who were known to participate in their secret designs, there was no
one upon whom they could implicitly rely. Under such doubtful cir-
cumstances, a nobleman whom all honest men had ever respected, and
who was known alike for his integrity and loyalty, was naturally looked
to as one who might be a trust-worthy sentinel in an hour of concealed
danger: and the duke of Ormonde, avoided and shrunk from in the
time of strength and safety, was now as ever, sought when the ground
was uncertain and unsafe. The circumstances are such as, from their
nature, cannot have found their way into the historic page; but we should
infer, from the king's naturally shrewd and sagacious character, with
his growing love of security and ease, taken with the excessively vio-
lent demonstrations shown by the duke, to secure his own succession at
this time that the king did not feel himself either as safe or as free
as he would have desired. It is as apparent that the duke must have
felt that there was great danger of his being set aside by a slight turn
of that secret contest of intrigue, which is known to have been carried
on. While the king would, under such feelings, rely on the old and
tried good faith of Ormonde to himself, the duke would with equal
confidence look to him as one who could not be warped into disloyalty.
We are more particularly desirous to impress these suggestions,
because a modern historian of such respectability as Leland appears
to consider his conduct at this time as less creditable to Ormonde. We
are far from considering it as matter for eulogy, but we see in it nothing
to detract from his reputation. One of the errors of that period of
our history — an error never dissipated till the revolution, was that of
considering loyalty as a paramount duty, as sacred as a knight's honour
or a lady's chastity. The duke had been not only trained in this prin-
ciple, and maintained it at the expense of fortune and the risk of life,
but he had been most particularly exercised in it in times of great
trial, in the adversity of a prince for whom he had made every sacri-
fice. There were, it is true, before him. and even then, those wlxo

296 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

acted according to a juster principle; but of these the former really
acted from factious motives : and as to the latter, they belonged to a
later generation ; their knowledge was a fruit of experience. The duke
was an aged man, and acted upon the principles of his life : he did not
anticipate any disastrous consequences to the church, but he saw the
danger which menaced the succession, and, as on former occasions, he
thought it right first to secure the interests of the crown. He knew
well the real strength of protestantism in England, and had no fear
for it. He only saw the approach of a dangerous revolution, and could
not conjecture those fortunate results which are now the cant of school-
boy declamations. To this must be added, that Leland, whose usual
candour does not fail him even when he is unjust, acquits the duke of
Ormonde of all participation or privity in the real and final designs of
the king and duke of York: and of this the proof is indeed full and con-
clusive. Under such circumstances, though now in the last stage of his
declining years, he exerted his mind and body to support, and at the
same time moderate the councils of Charles, and guided him through
more perplexity and difficulty than can be fully known, unless from the
fact that the king kept him in close attendance, and would move in
nothing without his counsel. The discovery of a plot to assassinate
the king on his way from Newmarket to London, led to measures ot
great but necessary harshness: in these the duke had no part, but they
add to the unpopularity of this period and reign, and seem to cast a re-
flection on all its actors ; but, however profligate the court, and how-
ever unprincipled and dangerous to civil liberty were its designs, con-
spirators and assassins merit the penalty of the law. The discovery ot
the Ryehouse plot completed the triumph of the court: but the strugg-le
of private intrigues did not cease until the king's death, which there
is abundant reason to believe was the eventual result of their intrigues.

In February, 1683, during his residence in England, the duke had a
violent and dangerous attack of fever, which his physicians pronounced
to be dangerous, but from which he recovered ; he was consequently in
a weak condition for a long time. He was beginning to enjoy his usual
vigour and spirits, when he received the disagreeable intelligence that
the castle of Dublin had taken fire, and that some of his family had
been in danger. The fire was considered to have proceeded from a
beam which passed beneath one of the fire-places; this having taken
fire, communicated it to the entire building. The accident is still one
of frequent occurrence in old houses, and it is probable that the fire
was slowly collecting force for several days under the floor during the
gradual ignition of the beam. The danger was increased by the vicinity
of a powder magazine ; and as the means of suppressing conflagration
were then far more ineffectual than now, the consternation was very
great. The earl of Arran was the first who discovered this accident,
and it is attributed to his great exertion, presence of mind, and skill,
that it was overcome. The principal means to which he had recourse
seem to have been by gunpowder, with which he arrested the commu-
nication of the flames, by blowing up the walls wherever they were
advancing. The duke's loss was very great; but the circumstance led
to the re-edification of the castle on a more commodious plan.

It was now, at the end of two years of continued absence, considered

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OE ORMONDE. 297

necessary for the duke to return to his government. Useful as his
counsels had been to the king, there was a limit to their utility; zea-
lous as he was to guard the prerogative, and still to resist all plans likely
to endanger the succession, there was a further aim in all the proceedings
of the duke of York, which made it impossible to repose a whole con-
fidence in the duke of Ormonde. As the intrigues concerning the suc-
cession became more deep, it became evident to the heir apparent
that he might be compelled to have recourse to steps which would be
rendered difficult, by the presence of one so firm and sagacious as the
duke of Ormonde. And as it was the design of the infatuated prince to
pursue that very course of measures which eventually led to his depo-
sition, he was, to the utmost extent which the discretion of the king and
the wisdom of Ormonde would countenance, already endeavouring to
pave the way for his objects. As he advanced, or considered it expe-
dient to advance, to farther lengths, it became absolutely essential to
get rid of the duke of Ormonde. The king's affairs therefore being in
a prosperous state, and the duke's requiring his absence rather than his
presence, the duke of Ormonde was sent back to Ireland. It was on this
occasion that he composed the following prayer after his arrival: —

August 3\st, 1684.

"O thou who art a most righteous judge — who neither despisest the
meanest for their poverty nor acceptest the most powerful for their
power — make me always to remember and seriously to consider, that
as all those outward privileges I enjoy among men are by thee bestowed
upon me out of thy goodness, so none of them can exempt me from
thy justice, but that I shall one day be brought to answer for all I
have done in the flesh, and in particular for the use or misuse I have
made of those peculiar advantages whereby it hath pleased thee to
distinguish me from others ; more especially in the neglect of those
means and opportunities thou hast put into my hands, either to perform
my duty to thee my God, or else my king, my country, my family, my
relations, and neighbours ; or even to the whole people who have been
committed to my care and subjected to my authority. O let the
remembrance and continual thought of this and of thy favours now at
length awaken me, to a cheerful and careful employing of all I have
received from thee to those ends for which they were given by thee.
Lord grant that the experience, and that measure of knowledge thou
hast endowed me with, may have such an efficacy on my practice that
they may help to advance salvation, and aggravate sins or guilt to my
condemnation. I confess, O Lord, I have often been more elevated,
and taken more pride in the splendour of the station thou hast placed
me in, than in considering that it came from thy bounty and provi-
dence. I have often been less careful than I ought to discharge the
trust committed to me with that diligence and circumspection and con-
scientiousness which the weight and importance of such a trust
required. Nay, on the contrary, I have been vain, slothful, and care-
less ; vain of my slender performances, slothful in not employing my
talent to discover and execute justice, to the punishment of wickedness
and vice, to the maintenance of virtue and religion, and to the relieving
and delivering the poor, the innocent, and the oppressed. Nay, so

298 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

careless have I been of my own carriage and conduct, that by my ill
example, and in compliance with a corrupt and intemperate life, I have
drawn others into vanity, sinfulness, and guilt. Lord, of thy infinite
mercy pardon these provoking sins of mine; and pardon the sins of
those I have been the means of drawing into sin by my example, or for
want of that advice, admonishment, or caution which it was in my power,
as it was in my duty, to have administered. And, Lord, out of the
same infinite mercy grant that for the time to come I may in some
measure redeem the errors and failings of my past life, and of all these
crying sins ; and this not only by a hearty and prevailing repentance
and a careful circumspection over all my ways and actions hereafter,
but by a diligent attendance on thy service, and by a vigilant admin-
istration of the power and trust which is committed unto me. 'Tis
hereby alone that I shall be enabled to render a good account of my
stewardship and become capable of thy mercy, through the merits and
mediation of my blessed Saviour and Redeemer Jesus Christ."

Among- the questions connected with this period of his history, the
principal was relative to the calling" a parliament in Ireland. Several
reasons rendered this an expedient step, but it was opposed in council
by the duke of York, on very insufficient objections, but really on the
ground that two several bills had been transmitted against the Roman
catholics. Those bills were however unjust and inexpedient, and
framed during the ferment of the popish plot, by the parliamentary
faction for the purpose of exasperating the Irish. The pretence was
the popish plot, and the purpose to turn the popish lords out of the Irish
parliament, and to inflict death upon a certain class of their clergy.

The year 1684 was rendered melancholy to the duke by the death
of the duchess, with whom he had lived in the greatest affection for
the period of fifty-four years. She hadfor some time been in a declining-
condition, and her death had been expected on the previous autumn.
On that occasion she went to Bath on the pretext of taking the waters,
but really to save the duke from the aggravated shock which she
thought her death would communicate if it were to occur in his pre-
sence. She however recovered then, to the g-eneral surprise, but was
again taken ill, and died in July, 1684, in the sixty-ninth year of her age.
As the short memoir with which Carte alone accompanies his men-
tion of her death is, for many reasons, interesting-, we shall here ex-
tract some passages for the reader. " The duchess of Ormonde was a
tall, straight, well made woman, finely formed, but not a beauty. She
was a person of very good sense, great goodness, and of a noble un-
daunted spirit, fit to struggle with the difficulties of the world, and
perfectly cmalified to pass through the great vicissitudes of fortune
which attended her in the course of her life. She had an excellent
capacity, which made her mistress of everything to which she applied
her mind; and her judg-ment of the affairs of the world, and of the na-
ture and consequences of things, was admirable. She understood all
sorts of business, in which it came in her way to be concerned, per-
fectly well, and wrote upon them with clearness of expression and
strength of comprehension. Not a superfluous or improper word ap-
pearing in her longest letters, closely written, and filling a whole sheet
of paper. The earl of Holland, whose ward she was, had taken very

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 299

little care of her education, and had not so much as made her be
taught to write, but she learned it of herself, by copying1 after print ;
for which reason she never joined her letters together."

The duchess was highly in the favour and esteem of queen Catherine,
who, in the year 1682, made her a very extraordinary present of a
collar, made up of her own and the king's pictures, and, in the middle
between them, three large and fine diamonds, valued at £2500. The
pictures were the same that had been sent and exchanged mutually by
their majesties before their marriage. The duke, after his grandson's
marriage with the lady Mary Somerset, made a present of this collar
to that lady, who kept it till her husband's estate was seized after the
revolution, at the time of king James's being in Ireland, when she con-
sented to sell it for their subsistence. The duchess of Ormonde was
the first person that, upon the duke of York's marriage with the
daughter of the earl of Clarendon being declared, waited upon the
duchess, and kneeling down, kissed her hand. But she was very stiff
with regard to the king's mistresses ; and would never wait on the
duchess of Cleveland, who in return ne^er forgave that slight. She
observed the same conduct towards the duchess of Portsmouth, though
this lady always showed and expressed the greatest regard for her, as
well as to the duke of Ormonde, and came frequently to visit her grace.
She was still more strict on this point with regard to her grand-
daughters, whom she seemed to instruct, not so much as to admit of
visits from ladies of such a character. Thus, one day in 1682, when
she was in a house that the duke had taken near the court, which was
then at Windsor, the duchess of Portsmouth sent word she would
come and dine with her. This notice was no sooner received than her
grace of Ormonde sent away her grand-daughters, the lady Anne
Stanhope, afterwards countess of Strath-more, the lady Emilia Butler,
and her sister, to London for that day, to be out of the way, so that
there was nobody at table but the two duchesses and the present bishop
of Worcester, who was then domestic chaplain to the duke of Ormonde.
Such was the decorum of conduct observed. in those days, when there
was licentiousness enough at court, by ladies of merit who valued their
character and best understood their own dignity, as well as what was
due in good manners to others. It is the duty of everybody to discoun-
tenance habitual and presumptuous vice ; a duty which none but those
who secretly approve it, or are mean enough, for sordid and unworthy
ends, to court the subject of it when clothed with power, find any
reluctance to discharge. There is certainly a measure of civility to
be paid to everybody, without regard to their moral conduct; but
friendship, acquaintance, intercourse, and respect, are only due to
virtue; and, in ordinary cases, are seldom given but to persons that
are liked.

If the Duchess of Ormonde had any fault, it was the height of her
spirit, which put her upon doing everything in a noble and magnifi-
cent manner, without any regard to the expense. When the king sent
the duke word, as has been formerly mentioned, that he would come
to sup with him, she resolved to provide a fine entertainment. She
consulted about it with Mr. James Clarke, a person of good sense,
very careful, and of great goodness and probity, who, as steward, had

300 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

the ordering of everything within the house, and was a generous man
in his nature — loved to do things handsomely, and understood it well,
but was still for taking care of the main chance. He thought several
things might be spared which her grace proposed ; but she insisting
on her own purpose, told him, " she had a very good opinion of him.
and thought he understood every thing within his own sphere, but,
says she, you must have the same opinion of me, and allow me like-
wise to understand what is fittest for me in my own sphere." That
supper cost £200U, an expense she did not value on this, and was
apt to run into on other occasions where it seemed proper to show
magnificence. The duke knowing her inclination, never interfered
in such cases, though he felt the inconvenience thereof, and his debts
were thereby much increased. When she set about building Dun-
more, intending to make it her residence in case she should survive
the duke, for she said Kilkenny castle ought always to belong to the
head of the family, she laid out vast sums of money in that building.
Gary Dillon, walking with his grace and others on the leads of that
castle, from whence there is a fine view of the country about, and
particularly of the house and park of Dunmore, made a pun upon
that place, saying to the duke of Ormonde, " Your grace has done
much here, pointing to Kilkenny, but yonder you have Done more."
" Alas, Gary !" replied the duke, " it is incredible what that has cost ;
but my wife has done so much to that house, that she has almost
undone me."

The affliction of this loss determined the duke's resolution to retire
from public life. " It was in August after," writes Southwell, " that I
met his grace at Aylesbury on his way for Ireland, where, deploring
the loss of his excellent consort and long companion, he said, that
business which was otherwise grown irksome to him, was now his best
remedy for the whole day; but at night when he was left alone to think
of his loss, the time was very grievous unto him." Under the impres-
sion of the desolate feeling here described to his friend, the duke
formed the intention to give one year to active business before his
retirement from public life. His determinations of retirement were,
however, anticipated by the projects of the court. The duke of
York began to see that, in the struggle for the ascendancy of his
religion, he would find it necessary to commence with Ireland, where
his church was unquestionably strong, and where an aspect of right
would be imparted to changes which he was bent on carrying inde-
pendent of such a consideration. Such was the actual ground of his
recall ; but the supposed pretexts were then, perhaps, various : his
enemies began to plot against him from the very moment of his
departure; and the duke himself, we think, not being fully aware
of the secret machinery that was at work, attributed this change
to the machinations of Talbot and others. A scheme was formed
by which, under the pretence of a commission of grace, a nar-
row inspection of titles was intended to be instituted, with a view
to deprive protestants of their possessions. To such a measure the
firm opposition of the duke of Ormonde would be necessarily antici-
pated. The duke of York had also represented to the king the expe-
diency of altering the constitution of the Irish army ; he advised him

to get rid of the party of factious and fanatical republicans, which
then constituted its strength, under the general name of protestants,
and to replace them by the Roman catholics, who, notwithstanding all
they had suffered, were still devoted to his family. These particulars
do not require explanation; the removal of the Duke of Ormonde was
an obvious preliminary to such measures, and he received an intima-
tion of this by a letter from the king, written in a kind and courteous
tone, with many assurances of respect and friendship, which had all the
sincerity of which the writer was capable.

The king did not long survive this event. The suspicions of his
having been poisoned were very strong, and certainly appear not un-
warranted by a few details as mentioned by Burnet.*

The Duke of Ormonde's last act in Ireland was the proclamation of
King James, by whom the order for his recall was instantly renewed,
with circumstances of slight, which seemed to have been the result of
the new king's first impulses, eager as he was to remove all opponents
from the way of his designs. He was afterwards as respectful to the
duke as might have been expected from a prince of his character and
policy. On the occasion of the return we find some interesting recol-
lections in the narrative of his friend: — " I went," writes Southwell,
" to meet his grace at Northampton, and found him a little perplexed ;
he had left the earl of Ossory sick of the small-pox at the earl of
Derby's at Knowsley, the young lord having taken ill at sea. Now
also came news to him of the death of two of the earl of Arran's
children. He met also in a newspaper on the road the first tidings
that his regiment of horse was given away ; and other points there
were of no great satisfaction to him. However, when the next day I
entertained him for some hours on the subject of the lady Mary
Somerset, his grace fell into a new air of contentment. He was met
on the road by more coaches from London than I had seen before;
and at coming- to his house in St James's square, the people in a
mighty throng received him with acclamations. This was the last
of March, 1 6s5."f

It was at this time the duke's intention to pass the few remaining
years of his life in retired study, and in preparation for that call which
he knew could not, at his age and with his infirmities, be long deferred.
In addition to the death of the duchess, and that of his son, the noble
and high spirited Ossory, he had, in the beginning of 1686, to lament
the death of his second son, the earl of Arran, a brave soldier, and
highly distinguished in several military and naval services, but exces-
sively addicted to dissipation.

In February the duke retired to Combury, a seat in Oxfordshire, lent
to him by the earl of Clarendon, who was then in Ireland. In August,
the same year, he attended the king on a progress, but found his
strength unequal to the travelling, and quitting the royal party, made
his way to London. In December, he joined with Dr Burnet and
others in making a stand against one of the first attempts of king
James, to exercise a power of dispensing with the laws which required
the oaths of supremacy and allegiance on the admission of pensioners

* History of his own Time, I. 337. 1 Southwell's Life of Ormonde.

302 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

to the Charterhouse. The occasion is not, in itself, of any historical
importance. The act excited the king's indignation ; and this was far-
ther increased by the duke's refusal to consent to the abolition of the
penal laws and test, an object which the king pursued with great and
increasing violence, until it was the means of losing his crown. With
the duke he was, however, not disposed to have recourse to the same
extremities which he adopted towards others who set themselves against
his will. He said that, " as his grace had distinguished himself from
others, by his long and faithful services to the crown, so he would dis-
tinguish him from others by his indulgence."* Among the weaknesses
of the king, one was the hope of converting his nobles, and leading men
to his own religion. The history of these efforts is indeed curious
and instructive; they had no other effect than to call up Stillingfleet,
and a host of eminent theologians, and the public mind was soon far-
ther than ever from the opinions of the king. Several controversial
meetings took place, some in the royal presence, of which the result
was not altogether satisfactory. The earl of Rochester was considered
an easy subject, and the king intimated to him that he only desired
him to confer with the court chaplains upon the subject. The earl con-
sented, but said that it should be in the presence of some divines of
the English church. The king agreed, but objected to Tillotson or
Stillingfleet ; the earl said he would be contented with the chaplains of
the court establishment, who though protestant were yet retained
according to the ancient usages, which the king had not yet advanced
so far as to set aside. The parties met according to this arrange-
ment, and the king's chaplains gave their reasons, on hearing which
the earl said, that if they had none better, he would not trouble the
other gentlemen to reply, as he could answer so far himself; which
accordingly he did.f

The duke of Ormonde was soon assailed in a similar manner. Peter
Walsh who had, in an intercourse of forty years, never before addressed
him on the subject, and Lord Arundel, made a formal attempt, for
which he prepared himself. Both were foiled. Carte gives the sub-
stance of his conversation with Walsh: "The good father confessed
to his grace that there were abundance of abuses in their church, yet
still it was safest to die therein ; and showed that an open renunciation
or abjuration was not required from any who were reconciled, except
ecclesiastics; and that if a man did but embrace that faith in his heart
it was enough. The duke, among other things, replied, that though
he had great charity for such as had been brought up in that religion,
and wanted the opportunities of knowing those errors which were con-
fessed, and he might have hoped well of his latter end if he had been
thus bred and thus invincibly ignorant, yet, since he knew their errors,
he could never embrace what he saw cause to condemn; and wondered,
if the condition wherein he was appeared to be so dangerous to him, why
so good a friend did not admonish him sooner thereof. Peter soon
saw there was no good to be done, and did not venture a second
attempt. This religious had always been very cordial and sincere in
his professions and zeal for the duke's service; and his grace having the

* Carte. f Burnet.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 303

post of seneschal or steward to the bishop of Winchester, (it being
usually given in ancient times to some of the most powerful of the
nobility, who were thereby engaged in the protection of that see,) by a
patent from Bishop Morley, with the fee of £100 a-year, had settled
it upon him for subsistence. This was all Peter Walsh had to live
on; he received it duly, and had it till his death, which happened a
little before the duke of Ormonde's."

In the beginning of 1688, the duke had formed the intention of
accompanying the king on a progress, but found himself disabled by
the weakness which followed an attack of gout. He applied in spring
for leave to retire to a greater distance from the town, and waive his
attendance at court; and took a place at Dorsetshire, where he hoped
to be benefited by the goodness of the air. To this place he removed
from Badminton with considerable fatigue, as his lameness was so
great that he could not move without assistance. In March he had a
violent attack of fever, and recovered with difficulty, after which he
made his will. In May he had however so far recovered, as to be
enabled, with some assistance, to walk in the garden. He received a
visit this spring from Sir Robert Southwell, his steady and faitbful
friend, who had, for the two years previous, been engaged in drawing up
a history of his life, and now remained with him for some weeks. Among
the many conversations which occurred on this occasion, there is a
passage preserved by Carte, we presume, on the authority of South-
well's narrative, which is worth noticing* as an illustration of the even
and tempered politics of the duke, who evidently was equally uninfected
by the factious prejudices of either of the two violent parties, between
which he had held the scale of impartial justice through so long a
period of public service. Talking of the precipitate measures of king
James to his friend, " he lamented that his majesty should be advised
to put such questions, as was then too generally practised, to men of
undoubted loyalty. That, for his own part, he had been ever zealous,
not only to serve the crown, but even to please his prince; that he did,
in truth, think the popish lords had been treated with great hardship
and injustice wben deprived of sitting in the house, which was their
undoubted right and inheritance, but the danger of dispensing with
tbe penal laws was now become so visible, that he did not see how any
man could, in good conscience, be absent from the house whenever that
came to be the question."

But the end of the duke's long and useful life was approaching. On
Friday, 22d., he was taken ill with an aguish attack: and though by
the extraordinary vitality of his constitution he threw it off, it was per-
ceptible that his strength was near exhausted, and that he could not be
expected to last much longer, though he was enabled to take the air
daily in his coach. The bishop of Worcester came and remained with
him for a month; but the duke began to feel so much better that he
thought he might hold out for some months longer, and the bishop
went away: he promised to return, and the duke said he would send
for him in time, when he felt the approach of death. He continued to
go out for a few days. On Wednesday, July 16th, he went out in the
coach with lady Ossory, but returned ill : yet for the two following days
he was so much better as to stir about the house a little. On Friday,

304 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

he was attacked by a violent stitch in the side, which gave way to the
treatment applied. He was visited by Mr Clerk on Saturday, and ob-
served to him, "this day four years was a very melancholy day to me:"
Mr Clerk did not at first understand him, until he added, "it was the
most melancholy I ever passed in my life: it was the day I lost my
dear wife." Mr Clerk then thought his grace worse than he had yet
been. The duke desired him to write to Sir R. Southwell to come over.

The duke was amused by his little grandson, whom he had con-
stantly with him, though not more than two years old at the time. He
frequently asked the hour, and desired his chaplain, Mr Hartstrong,
(afterward bishop of Derry,) to prepare to administer the sacrament to
him by ten next morning, naming those whom he wished to receive it
with him. In the afternoon he got out of bed to join as usual in the
family prayers, and read the responses with his usual clearness,
but it was observed by those around him that he was evidently striving
with pain. He continued sitting up till three o'clock, which was the
hour of afternoon prayers, in which he joined as usual. He conversed
a good deal, but showed starts of pain. He desired Mr Clerk to se-
cure some papers which lay in the window, for Sir R. Southwell, who,
he said, could not arrive in time. He was desirous to return to bed,
but Mr Clerk remarked to him that he was going faster than he
thought, and that it would be better not to wait till morning for the
sacrament; the duke assented, and it was accordingly administered
without delay, with the young earl of Ossory, who arrived a few days
before, and all the servants ot his household.

His grace then addressed his servants, and told them, that in re-
commending them all to the friendship and protection of the earl of
Ossory, he had done all in his power to requite their faithful services,
as he had been all his life in debt, and now died so. He then dismissed
them, and feeling greatly exhausted, desired to be laid on his bed.
This was done by his gentleman of the chamber and another: they
were laying him on his back, and he requested them to turn him on
his side; while this was doing, his hand was observed to fall deadly,
and on examining they found that he had breathed his last in the in-
terval.

His mind had been clear to the very last; he had frequently ex-
pressed a wish that he " might not outlive his intellectuals." He was
by his own desire buried in Westminster Abbey, next to his duchess
and his two sons, on August 4th, 1688; the funeral service beiug
read by Dr Spratt, bishop of Rochester: he would have completed his
78th year in a few days.

The duke was something above the middle size, of a fair complexion,
and a countenance remarkable for its grave and dignified expression,
combined with an air of frankness and modesty. He dressed in the
fashion of the court, but with a freedom from finery or affectation. His
living was hospitable, but in his own person plain and abstemious. His
life was free from vice, and his religious observance exemplai-y from
youth to extreme old age: a fact more honourably characteristic than
may be fully allowed for by every reader, until his recollection is called
to the truth of common experience as well as of divine declaration, how
little consistent with each other are the ways of piety and of the world,

i

THE BUTLERS— TAMES, DUKE OF ORMONDE. 305

in which latter his grace was by the necessities of his position, and of
the times in which he lived a prominent actor. Neither the pomps
and vanities, nor the anxious and engrossing- cares, nor the temptations
of acquisition and station, nor the applause and censure of multitudes,
nor even the most long-sighted wisdom of camps, cabinets, and senates,
are favourable to the attainment of that spiritual condition which is need-
ful to the interests of that future state at present faintly apprehended,
and therefore little the object of earnest concern, save to the few to
whom they have been realized by faith, and the teaching of a better
spirit than the statesman's heart ordinarily knows. The political par-
tisan and the leader of state-parties may often indeed manifest a deep
zeal for the maintenance of a church ; but it will, on closer inspection,
be ever soon observed, that such zeal has not necessarily any connex-
ion with religion. A church may be regarded simply as a corporate
institution, available for the various uses of human policy and constitu-
tional arrangement; and thus viewed, may be the object of a competi-
tion, and an excitement of passions as violent and as inconsistent with
christian spirit, as if it were a borough or a commercial charter. To
exemplify this in the affairs of the present time would be most especially
easy, though perhaps too invidious for a popular work. We shall not,
however, be called partial, if we tell the reader, whatever may be his
persuasion, to cast but a glance on which side soever he pleases, on the
two prominent ecclesiastical parties of the hour, to be convinced of the
entirely secular nature of the actuating principles on either side. A
fact easily borne out in detail, whether we view the demonstrations of
the parties, or the character of the individuals who are the leading ac-
tors in the strife. This is not the place to follow out this interesting
position with the analytical detail by which it could easily be placed
in a startling clearness of evidence: for our purpose it is enough that
the duke of Ormonde was a most illustrious exception. And we must
add, that the fact affords an easy solution of much of his high and
noble career, which the moral ignorance of some of our esteemed con-
temporaries have laboured in vain, to reconcile with their own ideas of
human motives, by the most ingenious and far-fetched imputations of
design, unwarranted by any known action of his life, and broadly in-
consistent with all. The duke was remarkable for his alert and inde-
fatigable attention to business, his early hours, and strict economy of
time. His affection to the duchess and all his children was a trait of
his disposition, not less discernible throughout his life.

The duke's letters and state papers are to a great extent preserved,
and form a large volume: they manifest in abundance all the higher
qualities of the statesman — the man, and the christian. Of all these
qualities we have already offered occasional evidence in the extracts we
have selected from the duke's correspondence and other papers; we
shall here add two more, which, on reflection, we think should not be
omitted, though from the progress of the work, we have inadvertently
allowed the occasion to pass. The following is, we think, a favourable
specimen of the style and language of his grace's period, as also worthy
of notice for its more substantial merits:

In the beginning of the reign of Charles II., the enemies of Ire-
land and of the duke endeavoured to obtain the nomination of English-

n. u Ir.

30G TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

men to the vacant bishoprics in this country. The duke's remon-
strance contains this just and eloquent passage: — "It is fit that
it be remembered that near the city of Dublin there is a university of
the foundation of queen Elizabeth, principally intended for the educa-
tion and advantage of the natives of this kingdom, which hath produced
men very eminent for learning and piety, and those of this nation: and
such there are now in this church; so, that while there are so, the pass-
ing them by is not only in some measure a violation of the orig-inal
intent and institutions, but a great discouragement to the natives, from
making themselves capable and fit for preferments in the church :
whereunto, (if they have equal parts,) they are better able to do service
than strangers ; their knowledge of the country and their relations in
it giving them the advantage. The promotion too of fitting persons
already dignified or beneficed, will make more room for, and conse-
quently encourage young men, students in this university ; which room
will be lost, and the inferior clergy much disheartened, if upon the
vacancy of bishoprics persons unknown to the kingdom and university
shall be sent to fill them, and to be less useful there to church and
kingdom than those who are better acquainted with both." To this
we shall add another of those peculiar compositions in which the fervid
and genuine piety of the duke appears to have imparted to his pen, an
eloquence of a higher kind than often appears in the best writers of
his age.

His prayer and thanksgiving, being recovered a while before from a
most dangerous pleurisy, which he had in London.

March 19, 1SS2.

" O most mighty and most merciful God, by thee we live, move, and
have our being; thou art the fountain of life, and to thee it belongs to
set the bounds of it, and to appoint the time of our death : our business
in this world is to adore, to praise, and to serve thee, according to
the notions thou hast imprinted in us ; and those revelations of thyself
and of thy will, that thou hast vouchsafed to the sons of men in their
several generations, by thy holy word. The blessings of this life are
of thy bounty, given to engage us to gratitude and to obedience, and
the afflictions we sometimes suffer and labour under come also from thy
hand, with purposes of mercy to recall, and reduce us from the sinfulness
and error of our ways, into which plenty and prosperity had plunged
us before.

" I confess, O Lord, that by the course of a long and healthful life
vouchsafed to me, thou hast extended all those methods by which thy
designs of mercy might have been visible to me if my eyes had not
been diverted by the vanities of this life, and my understanding obscured
and corrupted by a wilful turning of all my faculties upon the brutish,
sensual, unsatisfying pleasures of this transitory world. Thus have I
most miserably misspent a longer, and more vigorous, and painless lite,
than one man of ten thousand has reached unto, neglecting all the op-
portunities of doing good that thou hast put into my power, and
embracing all the occasions by which I was tempted to do evil : yet hast
thou spared me, and now lately given me one warning more, by a dan-
gerous sickness, and by a marvellous recovery, showing me the misery

THE BUTLERS— THOMAS, EARL OF OSSORY. 307

I had undergone, if with all the distraction and confusion I was in, for
want of due preparation for death, I had been carried away to answer
for multitudes of unrepentedsins. Grant (O merciful God,) that, this last
tender of mercy may not be fruitless to me ; but that I from this moment,
though it be later than the eleventh hour of my life, may apply myself
to redeem not only the idleness, but wickedness of the days that are
past — and do thou then, O Lord, graciously accept my weak endeavours
and imperfect repentance, in forgiving not only what is past, but enduing
me with grace to please thee with more faithfulness and integrity for
the time to come, that so, when thou shalt call for my soul, I may part
with it in tranquillity of mind, and a reasonable confidence of thy
mercy, through the merits of my blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen."

THOMAS BUTLER, EARL OF OSSORY.

BORN A.D. 1634 — DIED A.D. 1 GSO.

Thomas Butler, Earl of Ossory, the illustrious son of the first duke
of Ormonde, was born in the castle of Kilkenny, July 9th, 1634. Iu
common with every other eminent person of his age, the records ol
his youth are scanty and of little interest. It is only mentioned, that
he began early to show signs of the ardent spirit and thirst for
military enterprise, which were afterward distinguishing features ol
his life.

He was in his 13th year, when he was i*emoved to England, by his
father on his leaving the government in 1647; he then remained in
London, till the duke having been compelled to escape from Cromwell,
sent for him and took him into France, where, in the following year,
he was placed under the tuition of a French protestant clergyman at
Caen. In the following year, on the return of the duke from his secret
mission into England, lord Ossory was sent to an academy in Paris,
where he quickly obtained very great reputation, and excelled all the
other youths, chiefly the sons of the most noble families, in all the
studies and exercises which belonged to the school education of the
times.

After this it is simply known that he lived for nearly two years
with the duchess in Normandy until 1652, when, as we have related,
she passed over to England, to solicit the restoration of some portion
of her estates, when he was taken over with her, and also accompanied
her in her visit to Ireland.

We have already mentioned the particulars relative to the appre-
hension of the young earl by order of Cromwell, after he had alreadv
given permission for his departure. There was no specific charge; it
was simply alleged that he conversed with persons who were considered
dangerous; the truth seems to be, that the general popularity of his
character had the effect of awakening apprehensions of the conse-
quence, which might be the result of permitting him to improve this
advantage to the promotion of his father's views ; it is probable, that
the sagacity of Cromwell had already obtained an insight into the
bold and fiery spirit, and prompt activity and talent, which afterward

rendered their possessor remarkable in the field and senate. It is
mentioned, that when Cromwell's guard called to look for him, the
earl was out, and his mother promised that he should appear next
morning-. In the mean time, it was suggested that he was at liberty
to escape ; neither the duchess, (then of course but marchioness)
nor the spirited youth, would consent that a promise should be
violated, and accordingly, he surrendered himself next day. By
the advice of his mother, he then repaired to Whitehall, where he
remained in tbe waiting room, till three in the afternoon, and during
some hours, sent in several messages, to which he received no answer,
until at last, he was told by Baxter, that he was desired to find
lodgings for him in the Tower. He was immediately carried thither
in a hackney coach, and remained until the following October, when
after a dangerous fever, he was liberated for his health, on the
strong representation of his physicians, and allowed to go down to
Acton with his mother. This was found insufficient, and the physi-
cians finding it necessary to recommend a trial of foreign air, a pass
was with some difficulty obtained, and he went over to Holland. His
younger brother Richard was sent with him, disguised as one of his
servants. They landed in Flanders, where lord Ossory remained ; for
it was not considered advisable for him to go near the king; as it
might be made a pretence by Cromwell to take away the estates which
had been allowed for his mother's maintenance.

In November 1659? lord Ossory was married to Emilia, daughter
to M. De Beverweert, governor of Sluys and its dependencies, and a
leading man in the assembly of the states. He received with her a
fortune of £10,000, a large sum in those times, of which however, the
king- had the entire benefit. The young lord was not of a spirit, or at
a time of life to be vexw anxious on the score of pecuniary considera-
tions, and probably considered it enough to be blest with a wife not
less attractive for her beauty, than for a degree of worth and prudence
which endeared her quickly to all the members of the noble family, into
which she was thus introduced.

After the restoration, while royal favour showered well-earned
honours upon the duke of Ormonde, the earl was made (by patent), a
colonel of foot in Ireland, February 8th, 1661; and in a few months
after, changed into the cavalrv with the same rank. In the military
affairs of Ireland, at this time, there wras no field for military distinc-
tion; and we feel it unnecessary to dwell on his lordship's history for
the next three years, when he was raised to the rank of lieutenant-
general, in 1665.

In the last mentioned year, he was present at the memorable sea-
fight, between the Dutch fleet and the English, under the command of
the duke of Albemarle. The reader is aware of the general history
of this most dreadful and sanguinary battle, which lasted four dayb,
and stands nearly at the head of the list of naval engagements, for thy
furious obstinacy with which it was contested, and the terrific variety
of its incidents. It was on the second day of the battle, when the
wind having abated, and the fight became, as Hume well expresses it,
" more steady and terrible," that the great preponderance of the
Dutch force, for a time compelled the English to retreat towards their

THE BUTLERS -THOMAS, EARL OF OSSORY. 309

coast. The earl of Ossory and Sir T. Clifford were standing over
the shore near Harwich, and were struck by the approaching' thunder
of the guns. Excited by the mos-t animating sounds that are known
to human ear, they hastened to the town and soon found a small vessel
which they hired to carry them out to the seme of struggle, and they
were not long before they reached the ship commanded by the duke of
Albemarle in person. Theearl was gladly received, and was the bearer of
welcome intelligence. Before leaving the shore, he had been apprized
that prince Rupert had received orders to join the duke with the
squadron under his command, amounting to sixteen sail of the line.
At this period, the Dutch had been joined by sixteen fresh ships,
and the English were reduced to twenty-eight, so that it appeared
that their best chance was escape; the Dutch were at this time
powerful at sea, and the English had not yet attained the maturity
of their naval eminence. A calm prevented the Dutch from
approaching so as to continue the engagement, during the remainder
of that day.

Next morning, dispositions were made for the safety of the English
fleet ; the admiral fought as he retreated, in order to secure the retreat
of the weaker vessels; and as there was no adequate force to resist
the overwhelming line of the Dutch, which crowded towering on, as it
appeared to the earl of Ossory, in the exultation of assured victory, in
this conviction, he turned to the duke to whom he was standing- near,
and said, that "he saw no help but they must be taken." The duke made
answer, " I know how to prevent that." The Dutch still approached
three to one; and the earl of Ossory who had been puzzling himself to
conjecture the duke's meaning, again asked by what means he pro-
posed to avoid being captured: "blow up the ship," was the duke's
reply — a proposal to which lord Ossory gave his unqualified applause,
and ever after had the greatest respect for the duke of Albemarle.
About two o'clock, just as the Dutch had come up, and the action was
about to be renewed, a fleet was seen to approach from the south in full
sail. The appearance gave encouragement to each party; the Dutch
were in expectation of being joined by a reinforcement under Beaufort,
and the English were satisfied it was Rupert's squadron. The English
were not deceived; Albemarle, immediately made signals for his ships
to form a junction with the friendly squadron. And in the hurry of
this operation, a first-rate man of war of one hundred guns was lost, by
striking on the Galloper Sands ; as their extrication from this perilous
position was, under circumstances impossible, the captain and his brave
crew were compelled to strike to the Dutch, who were about to attack
them with fire ships.

The junction was effected, and the fleets were now nearly on an
equality. On the next morning the fight was once more renewed with
fresh fury, and continued until they were separated by a dense fog.
The English were allowed the honour of the fight by their country;
but the Dutch triumphed not less in the capture of a few ships. The
English nevertheless appear to have contended with unparalleled de-
termination against a far superior force, and thus gave unquestionable
promise of that naval supremacy which now began to appear. The
reader is aware that a more decided step was gained towards this re-

310 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL

«ult in the following month, when on 25th July, contrary to the ex-
pectation of Europe, a signal and glorious victory over the Dutch fleet
commanded by Van Tromp, at once gave England the sceptre of the
waves.

On the same year, the earl of Ossory gained a steady and powerful
friend, by the marriage of lord Arlington with his wife's sister. He
was also made gentleman of the bed-chamber to the king, on the
resignation of that office by his father. He was in June sworn of the
privy council, and by a patent bearing date September 14th, he was
called to the English house of peers, by the title of lord Butler of
Moore Park. In October, the king having invited the prince of
Orange to pay him a visit, lord Ossory was sent to conduct him to
England. As England was at this time at peace, he proceeded to
Paris to engage as a volunteer in the service of the king of France, in
an expedition which that monarch had planned against Alsan ; but the
plan having been abandoned, lord Ossory returned to England. A
little after his return, he received from the prince of Orange a ewer
and baton of gold, as a mark of his esteem.

Shortly after the attempt of colonel Blood upon his father's life, an
incident occurred in the royal presence, which characterized alike the
determined spirit and the filial affection of lord Ossory. The story
is told by Carte, upon the authority of Dr Turner bishop of Ely. We
shall give it in the author's words: " The bishop was the king's
chaplain in waiting, and present, when the 'earl of Ossory came in
one day not long after the affair, and seeing the duke of Buck-
ingham standing by the king, his colour rose, and he spoke to this
effect: ' My lord, I know well that you are at the head of this late
attempt of Blood's upon my father; and therefore I give you fair
warning, if my father comes to a violent end by sword or pistol, if he
dies by the hand of a ruffian, or by the more secret way of poison, I
shall not be at a loss to know the first author of it, I shall consider
you as the assassin, I shall treat you as such, and wherever I meet
you I shall pistol you, though you stood behind the king's chair; and
I tell it you in his majesty's presence, that you may be sure I shall
keep my word.' "*

In January 1672, his naval career commenced with a commission to
command the Resolution, a third-rate, but in April he was changed to
the Victory, a second-rate. In September, he was elected Knight of
the Garter and installed the following month. In November, having
been sent over as envoy extraordinary to the French court, to offer
the usual condolence upon the death of the duke of Anjou, a prince of
the blood, the distinction with which he was treated was such as to
indicate the high esteem in which his character and abilities were then
held. The king of France pressed him to enter his service, and
offered that if he would take a command in his army, he should have
whatever appointment he should think proper to ask. On the earl of
Ossory's refusal, the king sent M. de Louvois to him next day to offer
him any command he should name; the earl returned a complimentary
answer, such as at the same time to convey a disposition to refuse.
" Come, my lord," answered De Louvois, " I see you are modest, let

* Carte.

THE BUTLERS— THOMAS, EARL OF OSSORY. 311

me speak for you, will 20,000 pistoles for equipage, and 20,000
pistoles a- year do? If not, say what you will have, and choose what
command you please." The earl pleaded his engagement in the sea
service and declined. At his departure he was presented with a jewel
worth £2000.

In 1673, he received the command of the St Michael, a first-rate
vessel of the line: and bore a distinguished part in several actions
with the Dutch that summer. A fresh war had been declared against
that power, on the most absurd pretences, and contrary to all justice
and wisdom; and numerous great encounters took place, of which the
issue was so far doubtful, that in general the victory was with equal
truth claimed by both. While by the secret orders of the king of
France, for whose ambitious views, and at whose instigation the war was
undertaken, the French vessels which swelled the allied armament, so as
to give a hollow encouragement to the English, were prudently kept
out of danger, and contributed nothing to their real chances of success.
In one of those actions lord Ossory had an opportunity to distinguish
himself by his promptness, in saving a first-rate vessel, which being
disabled, was about to be taken possession of by the enemy. He was
immediately after made rear-admiral of the red; and towards the
close of the year sent to command in the Nore. In the latter part of
the same year, he formed a plan to enter the Dutch harbour at Helvoet-
sluys, and burn a fleet which lay there, in retaliation of the insult
which the English received at Chatham. With this intention he sent
over a gentleman in his own service to survey the scene of meditated
enterprise. The report was in a high degree satisfactory, and lord
Ossory obtained the king's permission to take with him ten sail of the
line and 2000 soldiers. But the influence of Buckingham interfered,
and the king retracted. The earl of Ossory in his disappointment,
assured the king, that he " would fire the Dutch ships with a half-
penny candle, or he should place his head on Westminster hall by
Cromwell's, for the greatest traitor that ever breathed."

In the following year, (1674,) lord Ossory was sent into Holland to
negotiate the match between the princess Mary, daughter to the duke
of York and the prince of Orange, who had two years before been
made Stadholder by the states of Holland, and had on several occa-
sions shown a degree of prudence, firmness, and natural elevation of
character, which had drawn upon him the general expectation and
respect of Europe. In England he was highly popular, and this match,
to which Charles soon after felt himself driven, for the purpose of con-
ciliating the protestant feelings of his people, may be looked on as the
choice of the nation, as it was afterwards the immediate instrument
under providence for its preservation and advancement in constitutional
prosperity. In the year 1667, the discontents of the country had in-
creased to a serious pitch — the king, whose indolence and feebleness of
temper had grown into disease, and who found himself every year less
and less able to contend with the national spirit, came to this resolu-
tion as the last resource to satisfy his people, who he knew looked
already to the prince of Orange as a last refuge, and sought his advice
on many occasions. His ministers were favourable to this course ; and at
last Charles was led to permit the prince to visit England as soon as the

312 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

campaign in which he was then engaged against France should be
closed tor the season. On this occasion the prince sent over a letter
to lord Ossory, requesting that he would give his constant advice and
assistance to his mission, the proposal of which was leave to come
over to address the princess; and when the prince returned, the earl
followed at his request to take a part in his campaign. He joined the
prince before Charleroi. Shortly after, the French army showed itself
under the command of M. de Luxembourg, and a battle was expected.
The prince showed his high opinion of lord Ossory, by giving him the
post of honour with the command of six thousand men. There was
however no battle. But in the next year he had better fortune, and
gained signal distinction at the famous battle of Mons, in which Luxem-
bourg was forced to retreat. On this occasion his services were publicly
acknowledged by the states, and the king of Spain sent a letter, writ-
ten with his own hand, acknowledging his great services.

On his return to England, he was nominated to command the fleet
designed to be sent against Algiers. A dispute however arose as to
the force to be sent out on this service, and the result was the appoint-
ment of a lesser force with an inferior officer.

In 1679, when the earl of Shaftesbury, at the head of a party
leagued for the removal of the duke of Ormonde from his post, had
made a violent attack upon his character and conduct in the house, the
earl of Ossory made the following eloquent and spirited reply, in which
the reader may recognise an imitation of great and merited celebrity
among the best known specimens of modern oratory : — " I am very sorry,
and do much wonder to find that noble lord so apt to reflect upon my
father, when he is pleased to mention the affairs of Ireland. It is very
well known that he was the chief person that sustained the king-'s and
the protestant interest when the Irish rebellion first broke out. His
services were so acceptable to the long parliament, that after some
successes he had against the Irish rebels, the parliament voted him
thanks, and sent him a rich jewel as a mark of honour and of their
esteem. It is well known, that when he made two peaces with the
Irish, they both times perfidiously broke them and endeavoured his
murder, and sent out several excommunications against him and those
that adhered to him. When he was abroad, I believe many may re-
member, how, when the duke of Gloucester was taken into the hands of
some that would have perverted him, the king commanded my father
to bring him from Paris, which he did, notwithstanding the threaten-
ings and animosity of that party against him. How he had been laid at
by that party, since the king's restoration, I think is sufficiently noto-
rious. I beg your lordships' pardon, if the nearness of my relation
may have made me say any thing which may look vain, being infinitely
much concerned, that any suspicion should be raised against him which
may argue his being not sufficiently zealous in all things wherein the
protestant religion and the king's service are concerned.

" Having spoke of what he has done, I presume with the same truth
to tell your lordships what he has not done. He never advised the
breaking off the triple league; he never advised the shutting up of the
exchequer; he never advised the declaration for a toleration; he never
advised the falling out with the Dutch, and the joining with France;

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, SECOND DUKE OF ORMONDE. 313

he was not the author of that most excellent position of Delenda est
Carthago, that Holland, a protestant country, should, contrary to the
true interest of England, be totally destroyed. I beg your lordships
will be so just as to judge of my father, and of all men, according to
their actions and counsels."*

In 1680, he obtained his commission as general from the United
States. In the same year he was preparing to go out as governor to
Tangier, which was at the time besieged by the Moors, when he was
seized with a violent fever, of which he died in the 46th year of his
age. His death was felt by the whole country, and gave a momen-
tary shock to the noblest persons in Europe : for there were few who
obtained so high a place in the list of honour and the respect of the
world without any aid from station ; having in fact never risen in pro-
fessional life to any rank proportioned to the distinctions he had won
in the sea and land service, as well as in parliament. The violence
of the current of hostility under which the established station of his
illustrious father was insufficient to stand firm, continually impeded his
advance : yet his reputation is confirmed by the number and character
of his appointments at home and abroad; at home, indeed, these op-
portunities of distinction were mostly frustrated in the very crisis of
preparation by the malice and intrigue of the British court, in which to
rise it was necessary to be corrupt.

The earl of Ossory left two sons, James, who succeeded to the ducal
honours, and Charles, earl of Arran.

JAMES, SECOND DUKE OF ORMONDE.

BORN A. D. 1665. — DIED A. D. 1745.

This nobleman, who succeeded his illustrious grandfather in his
titles and estates in 1688, was born in the castle of Dublin, April 29th,
1665, and was sent to France at ten years old, under the superinten-
dence of Mons. l'Ange, for the purpose of acquiring the French lan-
guage, along with the fashionable accomplishments of the day: the
tutor, however, proving unworthy, his pupil was quickly recalled to
England, and placed by his grandfather in Oxford, where he continued
until the death of his father, lord Ossory, in 1680. About two years
after this event, when he was only seventeen, he was married to the
daughter of Lord Hyde, afterwards earl of Rochester. She, dying
early, left him a widower in his twentieth year. He had previously
commenced his military career in France as a volunteer, and was, in
1685, appointed a lord of the bedchamber. He served against the
duke of Monmouth in the west, and had a share in the victory over that
unfortunate nobleman at Sedgemore. He shortly after entered into
a second marriage with the lady Mary Somerset, daughter to the duke of
Beaufort, which union had been contemplated by the members of both
families previous to his former marriage. He was elected chancellor
of the University of Oxford in 1688, in the room of his grandfather,

* Carte, Appendix, xeiii.

314 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

and about the same period took possession of his house in St James's
Square.

He strenuously opposed the fatal and despotic measures of James,
and joined in the petition against a free parliament; receiving1, how-
ever, a sharp rebuke for his interference, he suddenly left the court,
along with prince George of Denmark, and was one of the first of the
English nobility who publicly joined the prince of Orange. He was
accordingly attainted the following year, and his estate of £25,000 per
annum seized by the king.

On William's coronation he was appointed high constable of
England, and colonel of the second troop of guards, being also made
gentleman of his bedchamber, and installed a knight of the Garter.
He accompanied William to Ireland, and was present at the battle of
the Boyne ; shortly after which he was despatched with his uncle lord
Auverquerque, and nine troops of horse, to take possession of Dublin.
On William's proceeding to Kilkenny, the duke entertained him splen-
didly at his castle, and afterwards accompanied him both to England
and Holland. In the battle of Neer-Landen, when charging the enemy,
he received several wounds, and had a horse shot under him, when
a soldier being about to stab him, he was rescued by an officer of the
French guards, and taken prisoner to Namur. Here he expended a
large portion of his own revenues in relieving the wants of his fellow-
prisoners, through the instrumentality of the governor, count Guiscard.
He was shortly after exchanged for the duke of Berwick, whom
Churchhill had made prisoner. On his return to England, the king
created his brother Charles, lord Butler, baron of Weston in the
county of Huntingdon, and earl of Arran in Ireland. He again
accompanied the king to Holland, and was exposed to a most destruc-
tive fire at the taking of Namur from the French. The king being
determined to reduce the exorbitant power of France, and to sustain
the claim of the house of Austria to the throne of Spain, against the
assumed right of the grandson of Louis the 14th, planned, with the
duke of Ormonde, and the prince of D'Armstadt, the attack on Cadiz,
both by sea and land at the same moment. The duke was selected by
him as commander-in-chief of the land forces ; but the king dying be-
fore it could be effected, the appointment was confirmed to him by
Anne, who, resolving to continue the same line of policy adopted by
William, despatched a fleet of a hundred and sixty ships on the first
of July, 1702, for the accomplishment of this project; and at the same
time appointed Sir George Rooke vice-admiral of England, and com-
mander of the naval forces in the expedition. He was neither so san-
guine as others respecting this undertaking, nor very zealous in
promoting its success; it seemed as if he had undertaken it merely in
compliance with the queen's command, and was predetermined to give
it as little personal aid as possible. Whether this was owing to any
private understanding between the ministers and himself, or to a jeal-
ousy at sharing the command with Ormonde is still a question ; but it
is certain that the duke was impressed with the opinion that Sir
George never lent it his hearty concurrence, and that its failure was
mainly attributable to his slackness. Its failure, however, was chiefly
attributable to the opposite and divided councils of the sea and land

commanders, and to the rapacity and want of discipline in the
troops. After their first successes, they proceeded to the work of
plunder and spoliation, notwithstanding the public declaration of
the duke, in which he set forth that he came " not to possess him-
self of any place in the Spanish monarchy in the name of her majesty
or the states-general of the United Provinces, or to introduce therein
the usual troubles and calamities of war by way of conquest; but
rather to defend the good and loyal subjects of the said monarchy,
and to free them from the insupportable slavery to which they were
brought by being sold to France by some disaffected persons ; where-
fore the design of her majesty and the states-general being only
to assert the rights of the house of Austria, his Grace declared that
all good Spaniards, who should not oppose his forces, should be pro-
tected in their persons, estates, privileges and religion." Unfortunately
the forces under Sir Henry Bellasis and Sir Charles Hara, after the
capture of Port St Mary, broke through all these regulations, and took
and destroyed property to the amount of three millions, besides sacrile-
giously breaking into their churches and nunneries, which so enraged
the Spaniards, that those who before were favourable to the views of the
confederates, and intended siding with them, instantly took a hostile
part; and this, joined to the delays caused by opposite opinions amongst
the commanders, as to the moment for attacking Cadiz, gave the
garrison time to take effective means for their defence; the most
decisive amongst these was their sinking three galleons at the entrance
of their harbour, by which they put an effectual bar to the descent of
the fleet. After the failure of the confederates in taking the fort of
Matagorda, which was in part caused by their battery, which had been
raised on a morass, suddenly giving way, it was determined that the fleet
should return home for the winter; and it was on their passage that in-
telligence was received of the French and Spanish fleet being off Vigo.
The bold and prompt determination of the allies to attack this com-
bined fleet, was crowned with the most signal success, and the loss both
of money and ships to the enemy, great beyond precedent. The duke
valiantly and successfully led on his forces of about 2,500 men, and
landed them within two leagues of Vigo; one portion of these he
detached under lord-viscount Shannon and colonel Pierce, to take pos-
session of the fort that guarded the entrance to the harbour, and march-
ed on foot over craggy mountains to attack the fort of Rodondella, and
support the advance of the first detachment of the fleet by dividing the
attention of the enemy. The grenadiers, led on by these commanders,
advanced with such cheerfulness and resolution, that they quicklv
made themselves masters of thirty-eight pieces of cannon, and pursued
the French to the very gates of their fortification, when Mons. Sorel,
the commander, perceiving the impossibility of retaining the fort, at-
tempted to cut his way through the English, sword in hand. The
grenadiers, however, profiting by the momentary opening of the gates,
rushed impetuously forward, gained possession of the building, and
took three hundred French seamen, with fifty Spaniards, prisoners.
Close to this fort or castle, a strong boom was placed across the river,
composed of masts, cables, and chains, while within, in apparent security,
lay the Spanish and French vessels under the shelter of the town. A

310 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

heavy fog having favoured the advance of the English and Dutch
ships, admiral Hopson, in the Torbay, broke through the boom, not-
withstanding a heavy fire being opened upon him by two of the French
vessels which lay within. He was quickly followed by his own division,
and that of the Dutch admiral, Vandergoes; but these ships, with
the exception of that of Vandergoes, having* missed the passage made
by admiral Hopson, had to cut their way through the boom. The
admiral and his crew had almost fallen victims to his heroic daring ;
for immediately on entering the river, he nearly came in contact with
a fire-ship, and would inevitably have been destroyed, had it not
prematurely exploded. As it was, his vessel was greatly burned
and otherwise injured, and many lives were lost. The French admi-
ral, seeing the boom cut in pieces, the castle and platform in the hands
of the enemy, and the confederate squadron ready to bear down upon
them, ordered his own ship to be set on fire; which desperate re-
solve was but too faithfully imitated by the fleet under his command.
It was with the greatest difficulty that the English could rescue even
a portion of these ships and their self-devoted crews. The loss of
property was immense, the cargo of this fleet being computed at twenty
millions of pieces in gold and silver, besides merchandise, valued at
twenty millions of pieces more. About one-fourth was removed by
the enemy, a large portion sunk and destroyed, and the remainder was
secured by the confederates, along with eight or nine of the enemy's
ships. The duke also took a great quantity of plate and other valu-
ables, which had been removed to Rodondella ; a large body of the
Spaniards hovered in his rear, but did not attempt to come to action,
so that this brilliant and important victory was obtained with little
sacrifice of life on the part of the confederates, not above forty of the
landsmen being killed, and but very few of the seamen. The duke pro-
posed leaving a good squadron of ships with the land-forces to winter at
Vigo, but this judicious plan was opposed and over-ruled by Sir George
Rooke, who alleged that he had already sent home the victuallers with
the stores, and could not spare either ships or provisions: its vicinity
to Portugal would have secured the latter, but it was impossible to
remain without ships to protect the harbour, and over these Sir George
held undisputed control. On the duke's return to England he was receiv-
ed with acclamations by the people, and with every demonstration of favour
and respect at court, after which he received the thanks of the two houses.
The duke complained openly of the conduct of Sir George at Cadiz,
and seemed resolved to carry the matter to a public accusation: this
however he was persuaded to abandon; but a committee was appointed
by the house of lords, to examine both the sea and land-officers, as well
as the admiral himself, as to his instructions and the management of
the whole affair. Tindall observes, that he was so well supported by
the ministers and his own party in the house of commons, that he felt
little uneasiness at the investigation, and took much pains to show, how
improper a design the descent upon Cadiz was, and how fatal the at-
tempt must have proved; and in doing this he arraigned his instruc-
tions, and the designs upon which he was sent, with great boldness, and
showed little regard to the ministers, who took more pains to bring
him off than to justify themselves. The lords of the committee pre-

pared a report which was severe upon Rooke, and laid it before the
house ; but so strong a party was made to oppose every thing- that
reflected on him, that though every particular in the report was well
proved, yet it was rejected, and a vote was carried in his favour,
wherein it was declared, " that Sir George Rooke had done his duty,
pursuant to the councils of war, like a brave officer, to the honour
of the British nation." He subsequently received the thanks of the
two houses for his services. Shortly after, the duke was appointed
to the lord-lieutenancy of Ireland, where he was received with enthu-
siasm, and governed the kingdom for four years, with greater popularity
and splendour, than had ever been known on any former occasion. In
1707 he was appointed colonel of the third troop of horse-guards,
and in 1710, when queen Anne so suddenly displaced her whig min-
isters, he was again made lord-lieutenant of Ireland, in the place of
lord Wharton. In the year following, when the members of the new
cabinet were more firmly established in power, and their shame-
ful intrigues had at length effected the downfal of Marlborough, the
duke of Ormonde was appointed captain-general and commander-in-
chief of the land-forces in England, as well as commander-in-chief to
the army abroad, and successor to all Marlborough's military appoint-
ments. He was in the council-chamber at the time of Harley's assas-
sination by Guiscard, when St John, and some of the other members,
thinking Harley killed, rushed at the assassin with their swords, and
wounded him so severely, that he called upon Ormonde to despatch him
at once; to which it is said, the duke replied, "that it was not work
fit for a gentleman."

On the 9th of April, 1 7 1 2, the duke set out on his expedition to
Flanders, accompanied by a great many of the nobility and persons of
distinction ; and on arriving at the city of Tournay, he was received
with a triple salute of the artillery, and entertained by the earl of
Albemarle, along with prince Eugene, and the deputies of the states.
The troops were greatly discontented and disheartened at the removal
of their old and victorious general, under whom they had begun to
consider defeat impossible; and the Dutch were equally discontented
and distrustful of his successor. The late shuffling and disingenuous
conduct of the queen and her ministers had excited their suspicion, and
they refused to place their forces under the direction of the duke.
They accordingly nominated prince Eugene to the command, who bit-
terly lamented the removal of his former friend and colleague, and drew
a most disparaging comparison between the two commanders. The
prince was an acute observer, who quickly saw the want of moral energy
in the duke, which made him an assured, though reluctant tool, in the
hands of a corrupt and intriguing ministry. Mackay designates him
justly when he says, " he is certainly one of the most generous, princely,
brave men that ever was, but good-natured to a fault; loves glory,
and consequently is crowded with flatterers; never knew bow to refuse
anybody, which was the reason why he obtained so little from king
William, asking for everybody. He hath all the qualities of a great man,
except that one of a statesman, hating business." Harley and St John
calculated too accurately upon the high points of his character, to make
him aware of the mean and crooked policy they intended to pursue;

318 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

and, knowing hia profuse and generous habits, they accompanied the
high and honoured command with which they invested him, with all
the emoluments and perquisites, for the receiving of which Marlborough
had been removed and disgraced. His instructions were " to repair
with all possible diligence to the Hague, and to acquaint the Pension-
ary, that he had received her majesty's orders to see him before he
■went to put himself at the head of her majesty's troops, and to express
to him her resolution of pursuing the war with all possible vigour,
until the enemy should agree to such terms of peace, as might be safe
and honourable for herself and allies."*

The English forces had for many weeks been in the field, and lay
cantoned along the road between Tournay and Lisle. It was agreed
between the duke and prince Eugene that they should pass the Scheld
near Bouchain, and encamp at Avesne le Sec, for the purpose either
of making a sudden attack upon the enemy, or of investing Quesnoy,
which from its size could not hold out many weeks. All was arranged
for the uniting1 of their respective forces, when two secret expresses
arrived from Bolingbroke, urging the duke for the present to remain
inactive; as, that a battle lost might disadvantageously prolong the
war, or entitle the enemy to obtain better terms, in case of the pro-
jected treaty for peace being perfected. He also threw out base in-
sinuations against the prince, falsely asserting that the Dutch were
jealous and suspicious of him, and had given their generals private
orders to use more caution than he (the prince) might probably ap-
prove. The duke returned a simple and natural answer to their com-
munications, and one that entirely exempts him from the charge of
being in any degree privy, at this period, to the duplicity of the min-
isters, or their intended breach of faith with the allies. He writes,
" that he was entirely of the secretary's opinion, that a battle either
lost or won would at this time make very great alterations in the
treaties now on foot; but that the secretary might remember, that in
his instructions he was ordered to act in conjunction with the allies,
in prosecuting the war with vigour ; so that should there happen a fair
opportunity to attack the enemy, he could not decline it, if proposed
by the prince and states: but he hoped to hear from him by a messen-
ger before the armies were formed, which would be on the 21st." He
adds in a second letter, May 20th, " that, if there were a good oppor-
tunity to attack the enemy, and get into France by the way of Cham-
pay ne, he was sure the prince and the states would press it, unless
they heard from England that the peace was near being concluded:
that he wished it very heartily; but if it were delayed, he hoped he
should have the good fortune to force the prince to comply with the
queen's demands.""!" On the appointed day the two armies advanced
towards the enemy, the duke taking up his quarters at Marchiennes,
and the prince at Neufville; three days after, another blighting letter
came from the secretary, containing the queen's " positive command,
that he should avoid engaging in any siege, or hazarding a battle till
he received further orders from England," and adding, " that the queen
would have him disguise the receipt of this order; and that she

* TindalL t Ibid.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, SECOND DUKE OF ORMONDE. 319

thought he could not want pretences for conducting himself so as to
answer her ends, without owning that which might at present have
an ill effect if it was publicly known." The plea for the delay was
the expected arrival of a courier sent from the court of Versailles to
Madrid; but the moment it was indicated to him that he should
commence acting a double and treacherous part, in which his honour
and character were deeply compromised, should have been the mo-
ment for sending in his resignation. Unfortunately, however, he wanted
the moral courage for such an emergency, and, while he fully appre-
ciated the disgrace and difficulty of the course suggested, he promised
implicit obedience. It was also communicated to him, that a copy
of the instructions sent to him had been forwarded to the court of
France; so that if he received any underhand amicable communication
from the French general, Marshal Villars, he was to answer it in the
same spirit. It is needless to enter into the various difficulties, vexa-
tions, and inconsistencies, into which he was betrayed by his present
equivocal position; but when at length, Eugene finding all his appeals,
representations, and reproaches, vain, and that he came to the resolution
to attack Quesnoy himself, the duke was compelled to allow some of the
mercenaries, who were in the joint pay of England and the states, to
assist at the siege. This brought a letter of expostulation from Marshall
Villars, who had before communicated with him in an amicable and
complimentary tone, on the secret understanding that existed between
the two courts. The duke's difficulties and mortifications daily in-
creased, and he wrote to St John, " that things were now come to an
extremity: that he could not avoid seeing every day fresh marks of ill
blood and dissatisfaction, caused among the allies by the measures he
was obliged to observe ; that many of them did not scruple to say we
were betraying them ; and this ferment seemed rather likely to increase
than diminish ; and that considering the circumstances they were in,
it was hard to say what might be the consequences of it." The close
of his letter was in these words: "By this and my former, you may
guess how uneasy a situation I am in ; and if there is no prospect of
action I do not see of what use I am here ; and if it suit with her
majesty's service, I should be glad I might have leave to return to
England;" yet, adding the neutralizing clause — "but in this, and
all other matters, I shall readily submit to her majesty's pleasure."*

The Dutch plenipotentiaries at Utrecht made long complaints to
the bishop of Bristol, the English envoy, respecting the duke; he, how-
ever answered that he knew nothing of the matter, but would represent
it to the queen. In the course of the conference, he mentioned that he
had received a letter stating that the queen complained of their " high
mightinesses" not having responded in the way she thought they ought,
to the advances she had made from time to time to the states, in order to
engage them to enter with her upon a plan of peace ; and he added,
" that therefore they ought not to be surprised, if her majesty did now
think herself at liberty to enter into separate measures, in order to
obtain a peace for her own convenience." They represented that
" they thought they had merited otherwise, by the deference, which, on

* Tindali.

320 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

all occasions they had showed to her majesty; and that they knew
nothing of the advances which the bishop said her majesty had made
towards the states on the subject of a peace." On the substance of
this being communicated to the states, they immediately, in conjunc-
tion with the elector of Hanover, the landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, and
some other princes of the empire, took private measures for maintain-
ing troops independent of England, while as yet no ostensible separa-
tion was allowed to take place between them.

In parliament, the present campaign was discussed at much length,
and while the duke's conduct was severely commented upon, a motion
was made for an address " humbly desiring her majesty to lay before
the house the orders she had sent to the general, and to order him to act
offensively in concert with the allies." Harley, in an equivocating speech,
declined revealing- those instructions; and, on the subject of a separate
peace, independent of the allies, said, " that such a peace would be
so base, so knavish, and so villainous a thing, that every one who serv-
ed the queen, knew that they must answer it with their heads to the
nation." He also affirmed that the allies knew of it, and were satis-
fied with it.* The ministers knew they had a large majority in the
house, and these glaring falsehoods were allowed to pass.

The duke was desired by St John to make a show of assisting the
prince in the siege of Quesnoy, but this only subjected him to fresh
mortifications, as marshall Villars wrote under great irritation to him,
accusing him, or else his sovereign of perfidy. Ormonde's aid was little
better than nominal, and some time after, when he perceived the prince
prosecuting the siege with great vigour, and calculating that its re-
duction might impede the peace for which both he and his employers
had made such degrading sacrifices, he sent to the prince to say
" that his troops should continue in the army, provided he would give
over the siege of Quesnoy;" to which the prince replied, "that, instead
of relinquishing the siege, he would cause it to be prosecuted with all
imaginable vigour, and would let his Grace be eyewitness to another
expedition, immediately after the taking of that town." From this
time, says Tindall, " all correspondence ceased between the prince and
the duke; and the prince perceiving that frequent expresses went be-
tween the duke and the French army that might prove detrimental to
the confederate cause, held private conferences with other generals,
in order to separate their forces from the English ; and insinuated, that
he would be glad if the English would march off, they being only a
burden to the Netherlands, since they had declared that they would
not fight against France."

The prince quickly realized his boast, and Quesnoy was in the pos-
session of the confederates.

Shortly after, Ormonde received orders to demand from Villars pos-
session of the town and fort of Dunkirk, as a pledge that Fiance would
perform all she had undertaken, and as a necessary preliminary to any
cessation of hostilities. It was required on the side of the French,
that the artillery-troops under Ormonde should be bound by the pro-
jected truce as well as the English, but both they and their princes

* Tindall.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, SECOND DUKE OF ORMONDE. 321

felt that it would be base and cowardly to desert the Dutch at such
a juncture, and neither threats nor promises could shake their brave
resolve. Villars accordingly refused to give up Dunkirk; and the de-
tachment sent there by Ormonde suffered the mortification of having
the gates shut in their faces. The old veterans wept over the insult
they were not allowed to revenge, and cursed the duke as " a stupid
tool, and a general of straw."

The difficulties, however, as to the delivery of Dunkirk, were quickly
removed, as this complying ministry promptly engaged that their
mistress, on obtaining possession of that town, should at once break
all remaining ties with her allies, and sign the ignoble peace that so
quickly followed.

Sir John Leake was sent with brigadier Hill and a fleet from Eng-
land to take possession of Dunkirk, whither Ormonde subsequently
detached six battalions, and a portion of his artillery and ammunition.
He himself proceeded to Ghent, having been rudely refused admittance
both at Bouchain and Douay, towns conquered by the English arms,
and then in possession of the Dutch. This conduct, though afterwards
apologized for by the states as being the act of individuals, and un-
sanctioned by themselves, was not the less mortifying to the naturally
susceptible feelings of Ormonde, one of whose chief weaknesses was a
love of popularity. He now felt that he bad not only forfeited that, but
his own self-respect, as well as the position his rank entitled him to hold,
which was quite inconsistent with being made a pliable tool in the
hands of unprincipled intriguers. On his marching to Ghent and
Bruges, and placing garrisons in each town, a report was spread and
believed, that before Ormonde had declared the cessation of arms, the
earl of Stafford had had a private interview with the French marshall,
when it was arranged that the British troops should take possession
of these towns, and thus command the navigation of the Lys and Scheie!,
by which means, if the French generals could not relieve Landrecy,
then invested by prince Eugene; the duke might intercept the further
progress of the confederates. " That this was the design of the duke
of Ormonde, (writes Tindall) in bending his march towards Ghent,
is highly probable ; but whether or no the same was concerted by the
earl of Stafford and marshall Villars, it is certain 'that the earl suggest-
ed that counsel to the duke of Ormonde ; nor is it less certain, that
the states-general were extremely alarmed at it."

The duke has been much and justly censured for insisting on the
pontons he had lent to the earl of Albemarle, and which were neces-
sary for the defence of Denain, being returned to him on the day the
cessation of arms was proclaimed, " nor could all that the earl, prince
Eugene, or the states-deputies say, prevail with him to leave them but
for eight days." On the fall of that place, his enemies did not hesitate
to accuse him of having been privy to its attack. The exaggerated
tone of Oxford's letter to the duke on the taking of these towns, would
seem to imply that some ulterior object was contemplated.

" My Lord,

" No pen, nor tongue, is able to express the great pleasure I
took in your Grace's successes; it was a very great satisfaction to see
n. x Ir.

322 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

so much done for the public ; to see such an example of steady conduct,
in so great a nobleman, and, so courageous a heart is what has made
you envied by some, dreaded by your enemies, and applauded by all
men of learning and understanding. Your Grace's march to Ghent,
&c.j is a coup de maitre ; it is owned to be so in France and Holland;
and I must own I take a double pleasure in it, because it is done by
the duke of Ormonde, to whose person I have such an entire friendship,
and in whose success I take so particular an interest. Monsieur Torey
wrote a very just compliment on the affair of Denain, that the allies
now might see what they had lost by her majesty withdrawing her
forces, and what value they ought to put upon a nation, which every-
where led victory with it. I am with the utmost respect and attach-
ment, &c,

" Oxford.
"August 5th, 1712."

On the return of the duke to England he was received most gra-
ciously at court ; and early in the following year he was made governor
of Dover and warden of the Cinque-ports, while his son-in-law lord Ash-
burnham, was appointed deputy-governor and deputy- warden. The duke
was also given a pension of five thousand a-year, out of the revenues of
Ireland, for the space of fifteen years, and his duchess made lady of
the bed-chamber, which post she held till the queen's death. His in-
terest was the means of promoting Swift to the Deanery of St Patrick's,
who, though he had been so long prostituting his pen in the support
and defence of that corrupt ministry, had until then remained unre-
warded.

The duke's honours, however, were not of long continuance; as on
the accession of Geoi'ge, it was notified to him that the king had no
longer occasion for his services as captain-general, but would be glad
to see him at court. His name was also included among the members
of the privy council.

Although it was evident the duke was not in favour, yet it was
also. plain that the king had no personal dislike to him, and was not
inclined to show him any slight ; so that if he had acted with common
prudence, the storm that was then brewing against the guilty heads
of the late ministry would have been likely to pass by, and leave him
unharmed; especially as there was a very general impression that he
had most reluctantly acted in opposition to the dictates of his own
higher feelings, and simply in obedience to the queen's commands.

But the Jacobite and high-church party, at this time, acted in a most
daring and reckless manner, and published and industriously dispersed
numerous seditious libels, one of which was entitled " The Duke of
Ormonde's vindication;" while riotous mobs were either assembled, or
permitted to be assembled, on such days as they thought most con-
genial to the expression of rebellious feeling. On the day of the coro-
nation, the cry of the rioters was, " Sacheverel and Ormonde," " Damn
all foreign governments" &c, &c, and on the several anniversaries
of the late queen's birthday, of Ormonde's, and of the restoration of
Charles the Second, great disorders were committed in the city. That
love of popularity which, during the duke's entire life, had been his

bane, and which attended him even to its close, long after higher and
better feelings had asserted themselves, was now destined to become his
ruin. In place of at once discountenancing these turbulent indications,
and protesting against his name being made the watchword of a
party; it is evident that he at least gave the sanction of a silent
permission to those in his immediate employment, and who would neces-
sarily have been influenced by his opinions, to hold communications
with the Pretender, and actively to forward his interests. There
is also great reason to think, that Swift, who owed his advancement
to the duke, and whose political integrity was not of the highest
class, was made an agent for this party in Ireland, and it is not
likely that his proud mind would have held intercourse with the
subordinates, if he had not been well aware that there was a higher
spring setting them in motion. " About the middle of May," writes
Tindall, " there was an intercepted letter returned from Ireland,
written by Wight, a reformed officer of Windsor's regiment, to his friend
in that country ; and by a mistake, carried to a person of the same name,
in which were these expressions, ' The duke of Ormonde has got the
better of all his enemies; and I hope we shall be able in a little time,
to send George home to his country ag-ain.' A warrant was issued
from the secretary's office for apprehending captain Wight, who, ab-
sconding, a reward of £50 was offered by government to any one who
should discover him. Not many days after, Mr George Jeffreys was
seized at Dublin, upon his arrival there from England; and being- ex-
amined before the lords-justices, a packet was found upon him directed
to Dr Jonathan Swift, Dean of St Patrick's. This packet Jeffreys
owned he had received from the duke of Ormonde's chaplain ; and,
several treasonable papers being found in it, they were transmitted to
England. Jeffreys was obliged to give bail for his appearance; of
which Dr Swift having notice, and that search was made after him,
thought fit to abscond."

The duke took a different course at this time from either Oxford or
Bolingbroke, and seemed rather to defy danger than to shun it. " By
the magnificence of his mode of living, and the public levees which he
held, he seemed arrogantly vying with royalty itself. He held a sort
of opposition-court at Richmond, where he openly connected himself
with the most ardent Jacobites, and showed no displeasure at having
his name coupled with high-church," &c.;* but notwithstanding all this,
observes lord Mahon, (had he gone no farther) " ministers would have
shrunk from touching a man with so many friends in the country, and
in the house of commons, and have feared that, however easily they
might lop off the smaller branches, so great a bough could scarcely be
hewed down." At length, however, the mob began to call out an Or-
monde, in opposition to king George, and in place of discountenancing
it, he too plainly took pride in the degrading adulation of " the
manyheaded monster-thing;" and, " instead of behaving himself sub-
missively, he had the vanity to justify his conduct in a printed piece,
which in reality exposed him to added censure."f About the middle
of June, the following advertisement was dispersed with great industry.

* Lord Mahon. f Tindaii.

324 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

" On Tuesday the 7th of this month, her grace the duchess of Ormonde,
in her return from Richmond, was stopped in her coach by three per-
sons, well mounted and well armed in disguise, who inquired if the
duke was in the coach, and seemed to have a design upon his life, if he
had been there. It has been observed, that many persons armed and
disguised in like manner, have been watching by day and by night upon
that road, on each side of the water, and it is not doubted with a design
to assassinate him." " This," says Tindall, " being evidently calculated
to excite the fury of the populace against the duke's supposed enemies,
the rest of his conduct could not but alarm the government, and per-
haps provoked the House of Commons to proceed against him sooner,
and with more rigour than they would otherwise have done." On the
2 1 st of June, Mr Secretary Stanhope stood up and said, " he wished
he were not obliged to break silence on that occasion, but, as a mem-
ber of the secret committee, and of that great assembly, which ought
to do the nation justice, he thought it his duty to impeach James duke
of Ormonde of high treason, and other high crimes and misdemeanors."
A large phalanx of friends stood up successively in his defence, amongst
whom were Mr Hutchinson, general Lumley, Sir Joseph Jekyll, &c,
&c, and set forth at great length the important services which both
he and his ancestors had performed to the crown and nation, the high
estimation in which he was held by king William, the noble man-
ner in which he had expended the best part of his estate in the wars,
and his undoubted personal bravery, having so often and so fearlessly
exposed his life for the honour and benefit of his country. Sir Joseph
Jekyll said " That, if there was room for mercy, he hoped it would be
shown to that noble, generous, and courageous peer, who for many
years had exerted those great accomplishments for the good and hon-
our of his country. That if of late he had the misfortune to deviate
from his former conduct, the blame ought not, in justice and equity, to
be laid on him, but to them principally, who abusing his affection,
loyalty, and zeal for the service of his loyal mistress, had drawn him
into perfidious counsels. He added that, in his opinion, the house
ought to drop the charge of treason, and impeach him of high crimes
and misdemeanors." Hampden, Lyddal, &c, strongly supported Mr
Stanhope's motion, and when the question was put, it was resolved by
a majority of forty-seven — " That this house will impeach James duke
of Ormonde of high treason, and other high crimes and misdemean-
ors."

It was the general opinion, says Tindall, "that the rash and unad-
vised behaviour of the duke's pretended friends, of whom bishop Atter-
bury was chief, greatly promoted this vote." It was said upon very
good grounds, that a relation of the duke's (the duke of Devonshire)
had prevailed upon him at that time to write a submissive letter to the
king, desiring a favourable interpretation of his former actions, and
imploring his majesty's clemency; which had so good an effect, that he
was to have been privately admitted to the king in his closet, to con-
firm what he had written. But, before the time came, bishop Atter-
bury had been with him, and the consequence was, that he left England
"never to return to it more;" it should however be added,- — as a
loyal subject; for the duke made two descents upon the country in the

i

THE BUTLERS-JAMES, SECOND DUKE OF ORMONDE. 325

sei'vice of the Pretender, whose cause, when he had once espoused it,
he sustained conscientiously and consistently. It was vex*y contrary
to the wish of his Jacobite friends, that he left the country at the time
he did ; for it was their earnest desire that he should lull the suspicions
of government, and remain in England, a spy on its proceedings, until
their own plans should be fully matured; or, if he was determined on
immediate action, they had projected a sudden insurrection in the west,
which wrould have given exercise to his military powers, and might
have advanced the interests of the Chevalier into whose service he had
been so unhappily seduced. But Ormonde, says lord Mahon, " who
combined very honourable feelings with a very feeble resolution, could
neither stoop to the dissimulation of the first project, nor rise to the
energy of the second." It has been said that before he went, he paid
a visit to lord Oxford in the Tower, and advised him to attempt his
escape ; that, finding his arguments ineffectual, he took leave of him
with the words, " Farewell, Oxford without a head!" and that Oxford
answered, " Farewell, duke without a duchy !"

Immediately on the flight of Ormonde, acts of attainder were passed
against him and Bolingbroke, the latter of whom, on receiving the in-
telligence, says he felt the smart of it tingling through every vein.
The duke kept up a constant correspondence with his party in
England, and arrangements were made for an insurrection in the west,
which was to be headed by Ormonde, who sailed from Normandy to
Devonshire for that purpose, expecting to find all his partisans in
arms; but owing to the treachery of Maclean, one of his principal
agents, the rising was happily prevented, the leading insurgents were
arrested, and on the duke's arrival not a man was found to receive
him, and he was even refused a night's lodging in a country of which
he believed himself the idol. He accordingly at once steered for St
Maloes, where he met the Pretender in October, and in the December
of the same year, made a second unsuccessful attempt to land in
England, the arrangements connected with it being ill-planned, and
worse followed up.

The Chevalier, on his return from Scotland, 1715, was impressed
with the idea that the failure of many of the enterprises, undertaken
by himself and others, had been caused by the remissness of Boling'-
broke (whom he had appointed as his secretary of state) in forwarding
supplies of arms and ammunition; for which impression there certainly
appears strong ground, as large supplies of each were lying' in Havre
and various French ports " rotting-," as Boling-broke himself admits ;
though he still delayed sending them on various flimsy excuses, such
as waiting for an order from the French government, &c, while he
took no active means to procure one, and while the Pretender was
able on his return to send off a large portion without one, and that the
duke of Ormonde, about the same time, procured fifteen thousand arms
without the aid or knowledge of Bolingbroke.

Whatever cause of discontent, however, the Chevalier had with
Bolingbroke, he did not act wisely in so summarily dismissing the
only able minister he possessed; he also proved his paternal descent
by the duplicity and hypocrisy with which he received and embraced
the man he was determined to disgrace. Three days after his parting

from him with every appearance of cordiality and confidence, he sent
to him, by the duke of Ormonde, two orders written in a very summary
style — the one dismissing him from his post as secretary of state, and
the other requiring1 him to deliver to the duke the papers in his office:
" all which," adds Bolingbroke, " might have been contained in a letter-
case of a moderate size. I gave the duke the seals, and some papers
I could readily come at. Some others, and indeed all such as I had
not destroyed, I sent afterwards to the Chevalier, and I took care to
convey to him, by a safe hand, several of his letters which it would
have been very improper the duke should have seen. I am surprised
he did not reflect on the consequence of my obeying his order literally.
It depended on me to have shown his general what an opinion the
Chevalier had of his capacity. I scorned the trick, and would not
appear piqued, when I was far from being angry."* The note on
this, extracted from the Stuart papers, quotes the following passage
from one of James's letters: " Our good hearty duke (Ormonde) wants
a good head with him. I would have sent Booth, but I could not
persuade him." Whatever the duke wanted in head, he made up in
zeal and honest attachment to the cause to which he had bound him-
self. On the negotiation between Charles XII. and the Czar in 1718,
the duke hastened to Russia, under the name of Brunet, as plenipoten-
tiary to the Pretender, when it was agreed that both monarchs should
combine for the restoration of the Stuarts in Great Britain. Amongst
the Stuart papers is the orig-inal passport given to Ormonde, in Russian
and Latin, and signed by Peter the Great.f Ormonde also endeavoured
to negotiate a marriage between the Czar's daughter, Mottley, and
the Pretender, but this was counteracted by the interference of Gortz,
the Swedish minister, who had long before intended her for the duke
of Holstein, to whom she was ultimately married.

The good understanding that had existed between the English and
Spanish courts for some time after Alberoni's rise to power had now
entirely ceased, and the cardinal, desirous of promoting intestine com-
motions in England, resolved to assist the Pretender with an expedi-
tion, and to make his cause a weapon for furthering both the ambi-
tious and resentful views of Spain. He accordingly gave orders for
the equipment of a large fleet at Cadiz, the command of which he
offered to the duke of Ormonde. The Pretender accordingly was in-
vited to Spain, where he was received by Philip and his queen as
sovereign of England. On his arrival at Madrid, orders were imme-
diately despatched to Cadiz for the sailing of the armament: it con-
sisted of five ships of war and about twenty transports, with 5000
soldiers, partly Irish, on board, and arms for 30,000 more. Several
also of the chief exiles of 1715 joined themselves to this undertaking-.
The duke remained at Corunna, from whence he was to embark, and
assume the command as captain-general of the king of Spain, from
whom he received a proclamation which he was to publish on landing,
declaring " that his majesty had determined to send part of his forces
as auxiliaries to king James; that he hoped Providence would favour
so just a cause; but that the fear of ill success should not hinder any

* Lord Million, p. 287. t Ibid.

THE BUTLERS— JAMES, SECOND DUKE OF ORMONDE. 327

person from declaring for him, since he promised a secure retreat in
his dominions to all that should join him; and in case they were forced
to leave their country, he engaged that every sea or land officer should
have the same rank as he enjoyed in Great Britain, and the soldiers
be received and treated as his own."

Immediately on the news arriving in England of this intended in-
vasion, a proclamation was issued offering £ I 0,000 for the apprehen-
sion of Ormonde on his landing, and about the same time his house in
St James' was put up to auction and sold, clearly indicating that the
time for possible reconciliation was past.

With the strange fatality that attended, or rather the evident super
human control that restrained and overthrew all the enterprises under-
taken for the restoration of this prince to the throne of England, the fleet
had scarcely lost sight of Cape Finisterre, when the most terrific storm
set in, which lasted for twelve days; it seemed as if, in the words of
the Psalmist, " the very foundations of the earth were out of course,"
and while the ships were violently separated from one another; and
that in their extremity the crews threw overboard horses, guns, stands
of arms, &c, &c, it appeared doubtful whether they could even retain
the provisions necessary for the support of life. Only two of the ships
reached Scotland in safety, and the rest returned to their own ports
shattered and dismantled.

The unfortunate result of this expedition of course annihilated all
hope of immediate help from Spain, and Alberoni seeing that he could
make no further use of the broken fortunes of the Pretender, was
anxious for a specious pretext for his removal from the court of Spain.
This was speedily supplied by the escape of the princess Sobieski from
Inspruck, on which James immediately set out for Italy, where his
nuptials were celebrated.

The duke still kept up an active correspondence with the Jacobites
in England, and in 1722 a formidable conspiracy was carried on under
the auspices of the duke of Norfolk, the earl of Orrery, lord North,
and Grey, bishop Atterbury, &c, &c, all of whom were sent to the
Tower on the discovery of the plot; which was communicated to the
king by the duke of Orleans. A young barrister of the name of
Sayer, who was one of the most active of the agents, and from whose
papers the largest portion of documentary evidence was obtained, was
executed; the bishop was banished, and the rest ultimately pardoned.

About the same period, Bolingbroke also received a pardon, and
returned to England. He and Atterbury arriving in Calais on their
different destinations, the bishop merrily said, " Then J am ex-
changed." His daughter, Mrs Morrice, and her husband, accompanied
him in his exile.

In 1 726, we again find the duke of Ormonde, with a pertinacity and
fidelity worthy of a better cause, engaged, with the duke of Wharton,
and earl Marischal, at Madrid, in organizing another attempt upon
England, which was suddenly frustrated by the dismissal of the duke
de Ripperda, the Spanish minister, who was zealous in the furtherance
of their objects.

The duke resided chiefly at Avignon, and was remarkable for his
benevolence and hospitality. His house was open to Englishmen of

328 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

all parties, and twice every week he held large assemblies of the first
society in the neighbourhood. His charity knew no bounds ; and his
servants had frequently to conceal the numerous applications made to
him, or he would have exhausted his own funds to relieve the exigencies
of others. He was highly esteemed at the court of Spain, from which
lie received a pension of 2000 pistoles; and notwithstanding the many
failures of the expeditions in which he was engaged, that court had so
much confidence in his powers and capabilities, that they offered him a
command so late as the year 1741, which he declined on account of his
age and infirmities. He was a man of the most amiable natural disposi-
tion, and possessed many accomplishments; but yet his married life
was not happy, no attachment existing- between him and his duchess,
lie is described by St Simon, who saw him in 1721, as "short and fat
in person, but yet of most graceful demeanour, and most noble aspect;
remarkable for his attachment to the church of England, and refusing
large domains which were offered to him as the price of his conver-
sion." Macky in describing him, at an earlier period, in common
with all the great men of England and Scotland, for the amusement
of the princess Sophia of Hanover, says, he loves and is beloved by
the ladies, is of a low stature but well shaped, of a good mien and
address, a fair complexion, and very beautiful face. He lost his
duchess in 1733, and but one of his children survived him, the lady
Elizabeth Butler, who died unmarried. All the rest, with the excep-
tion of lady Mary, who married lord Ashburton, and died at twenty-
three, were lost in infancy. He was deeply impressed with the truths
of religion, and strict in its observances. He had the liturgy of the
church of England performed twice every Sunday in the presence of
his family and protestant servants, and also on Wednesdays and Fridays ;
and before receiving the sacrament, which he had regularly adminis-
tered, he secluded himself for a week, admitting only the society of
his chaplain. Though remarkable for his cheerful courteousness of
manner, he was latterly observed to appear absent, even in the midst
of company, and one of his intimate friends, who was much with him
at this period, traces it to his deep and frequent contemplations of
that futurity to which he was hastening. In October, 1745, he com-
plained of want of appetite, every thing- having become distasteful to
him. His physician seeing his strength daily decrease, called in two
more of the faculty, who adopted the strange remedy of bleeding for
the recovery of his strength. He of course immediately sunk, and
expired two days after, on the 14th of November, when his body was
embalmed and conveyed to England as a bale of goods. It was de-
posited in the Jerusalem-chamber, and was afterwards interred in
Henry VII.'s chapel, in the vault of his ancestors, the bishop of
Rochester performing the funeral service. He died in his eighty-first
year, having spent thirty of them in exile.

His brother, lord Arran, had been permitted, in 1721, to purchase
the family estates; but he died childless. And thus terminates the
male line of the first illustrious duke.

The present marquess derives from Walter, the eleventh earl of
Ormonde; and represents the three families of Ormonde, Kilcash, and
Ganyrickeu.

SIR WILLIAM ST. LEGER. 329

SIR WILLIAM ST. LEG MR.
DIED A. D. 1642.

We have already mentioned the origin of the ancient family of St
Leger, in our notice of Sir Anthony, grandfather to the eminent
soldier of whom we are now to give some account. His brave father,
Warham St Leger, fell in an encounter with the rebel leader, Mac-
guire, whom he at the same time slew.

In consideration of the eminent services of these and other ances-
tors of this family, Sir William was early considered entitled to the
favours of the crown, and received large grants and privileges from
James I. In April, 1627, he was appointed lord-president of Munster,
with the command of the company which belonged to his predecessor
in office, Sir Edward Villiers. He was at the same time made a
member of the privy council. As president, his success, prudence,
and strict integrity, as well as his disinterested conduct, gained so much
approbation as to induce king Charles to bestow upon him the sum
of £756.

In 1639, he' was elected member of parliament for the county of
Cork ; and immediately after, was appointed sergeant-major general of
the army, in which capacity he commanded the Irish troops levied to
serve in Scotland in 1640.

When the rebellion broke out, his force was little adequate to the
demand of the emergency, until he was strengthened by some regi-
ments sent over to his aid by the parliament, and joined by other
southern nobles with their companies. His deficiency of force was,
however, from the outset compensated by superior prudence and deci-
sion. The rebellion, which had already spread its terrors over everv
other province of Ireland, at last found its way to Munster. The
borders of the province began to suffer from parties of the Wexford
rebels, who drove off the cattle of the English about Waterford. On
receiving a report of these exploits, St Leger marched with two hun-
dred horse to recover the spoil. The season was inclement — there had
been a heavy fall of snow, followed by a sharp frost; and the difficulty
necessarily to be encountered, in consequence of a state of weather
particularly unfavourable to the march of cavalry, was aggravated by
the nature of the country to be passed. The steep and craggy passes
of the Waterford mountains offered impediments more formidable than
the enemy ; these were, nevertheless, happily overcome by the patience
and resolution of St Leger and his little band of hardy veterans. At
the base of the Commeragh mountains he overtook the first small divi-
sion of these robbers, whose portion of the spoil he rescued, and took
nineteen prisoners. The main body was, however, six miles further on,
and having gained the Suir, were preparing to cross that river with
their prey. Some had crossed, but a large party stood prepared to
defend their booty on the bank. Their resistance was ineffectual, and
served to cause an effusion of blood; of their number one hundred and
forty were killed on the spot, a considerable number drowned in their

attempt to escape across the water, and fifty prisoners were taken and
conveyed into Waterford, where forty of them were executed. On
the following day, while he was yet in Waterford, an account reached
that city, that the archbishop of Cashel was plundered. On this he
marched to Cashel, and recovered the cattle which had been driven
away and lodged in an enclosure of a gentleman in the neighbour-
hood.

This was but the beginning of troubles in Munster : the tide of rebel-
lion soon poured in and filled every district with its waters of confusion:
Cashel, Clonmel, Dungarvon, and Fetherd, were summoned by the
rebels, and yielded without resistance. On hearing this, the president
despatched orders to the lord Broghill, the earl of Barrymore, Sir
Hardress Waller, Sir Edward Denny, Sir John Browne, Captain
William Kingsmill, and sergeant-major Searle, and was joined by these
leaders, with six hundred foot and three hundred horse. He had at the
same time been enabled to raise a regiment, with two troops of horse,
together amounting to one hundred and twenty men: with these raw,
and half-trained soldiers, it was resolved to make a stand. Notwith-
standing the disadvantages under which he lay, and the strength of
the enemy — which was at the lowest four to one compared with this
combined force — the president, with his officers, took up a position at
Redshard, a pass from the county of Limerick into the county of Cork,
at the eastern extremity of the Ballehoura mountains. The rebel army
soon appeared headed by the lord Muskerry. The president was
engaged in preparations for an immediate attack, when a person of the
name of Walsh, a lawyer, attended by a trumpet, came from Muskerry.
The president heard with surprise, that the lord Muskerry acted under
a commission from the king, which Walsh offered to prove by pro-
ducing the commission, if he might have a safe conduct to go and re-
turn for the purpose. The president agreed; and having communi-
cated this to his officers, they all agreed that he should await the re-
turn of Walsh on the morrow. Lord Broghill alone expressed his
opinion that the message must be "a cheat; and that the king would
never grant out commissions to those whom in his proclamations he
had declared rebels."

Next day Walsh returned, and on being admitted to a meeting with
the lord-president St Leger, produced a large parchment with the
broad seal affixed, containing a royal commission to lord Muskerrv
to raise 4000 men. On this the president returned to his officers, and
informed them that lord Muskerry had really good warrant for what he
did, and declared that he would dismiss his men. In this all concurred
with the exception of lord Broghill, and accordingly withdrew to their
houses.

The sense of having been the dupe of this unfortunate fraud, and
the deepening of the troubles of the time, preyed so heavily on the
spirits of St Leger, that he fell into a long and severe illness, which
brought him to his grave, 2d July, 1642. He was twice married, and
left four sons and one daughter.

-»—

THE O'BRIENS— MUEROUGH BARON INCHIQUIN. 331

THE O'BRIENS.

MUEROUGH, BARON INCHIQUIN.

DIED A. D. 1551.

Among the great Irish chiefs who, in the reign of Elizabeth, joined
in surrendering their claim to native dignities and to ancient heredi-
tary tenures and privileges, as then both unsafe and inexpedient to
retain, none can be named more illustrious, either by descent or by the
associations of a name, than Murrough O'Brien. There was none also
among these chiefs to whom the change was more decidedly an ad-
vantage. The O'Briens of Thomond had, more than any of the other
southern chiefs, suffered a decline of consequence and power, under
the shadow of the great house of Desmond — with which they were at
continual variance, and of which it had for many generations been the
family policy to weaken them by division or oppression. It is men-
tioned by Lodge in his Collectanea, that it was the custom of the
Desmond lords to take part with the injured branches of the O'Briens,
with a view to weaken the tribe; and, in the middle of the sixteenth
century, the house of Desmond was the first in Ireland for the extent
of its territories, and the influence derived from numerous and power-
ful alliances.

Murrough O'Brien had obtained possession of the principality of
Thomond by a usurpation, justified by the pretence of the ancient
custom of tanistry, by which it was understood that the succession was
determined by a popular election of the most worthy. By this ancient
custom, so favourable to the strong, Murrough set aside his nephew,
whose loss, however, he compensated, by resigning to him the barony
of Ibrackan. The possession thus obtained by a title, which had long
been liable to be defeated by means similar to those by which it was
acquired, he prudently secured by a precaution, at this time rendered
effective by the policy of the English administration, and countenanced
by the example of his most eminent native countrymen.

He submitted to the lord deputy, who advised him to proceed to
England. In pursuance of this advice, O'Brien repaired to England,
and made the most full renunciation of his principality, and all its
appurtenant possessions, privileges, and dignities, into the hands of the
king. He further agreed and bound himself to renounce the title of
O'Brien — to use whatever name the king should please to confer — to
adopt the English dress, language, and customs. He was, accordingly,
created Earl of Thomond, with remainder to his nephew Donogh
O'Brien, whom he had dispossessed by the law of tanistry. As, how-
ever, this arrangement could not be quite satisfactory to Murrough, he
was created baron Inchiquin, with remainder to the heirs of his body.

This earl was in the same year sworn of the privy council. He
died 1551, and was succeeded in the barony of Inchiquin by his
eldest son, according to the limitations of his patent, while the earldom
went, by the same provisions, to his nephew's family.

33?

TRANSITION— POLITICAL.

MURROUGH O BRIEN, EARL INCIIIQUIN.

DIED A. D. 1674.

Mukrough O'Brien was probably born nearly about the year 1616,
and was the eldest son of Dermod, fifth baron of Inchiquin. He was
made ward to P. Fitz-Maurice, Esq., in 1628, and had special livery of
his estates in 1636. Being of a spirited and martial temper, he early
took to the study of arms, and served in the Spanish army in Italy
for a couple of years, for the purpose of completing his military edu-
cation. He returned home in 1639-*

He soon entered on the field of public life, and in a season that was
to afford full development to his warlike taste. He was apjxfinted
vice-president of Munster, under St Leger, and was with him in the
campaign into the county of Waterford, already described in our notice
oi' St Leger.

He soon distinguished himself, not only by his bravery, but by many
distinguished successes on the small scale on which the early encoun-
ters of that long rebellion were fought ; and when St. Leger died, he
was considered by the lords-justices as the most competent person to
fill his station. He was first appointed in conjunction with lord Barry,
who was manager of the civil departments, as O'Brien of those con-
nected with military affairs. Lord Barry, however, soon dying, his
colleague was left to the general command. His lordship commanded
in the battle of Liscarol, where he was opposed by Mountgarret, at
the head of 7,000 foot, and 500 horse; and with 1,850 foot, and 400
horse gained a signal victory, with the slaughter of 800 of Mountgar-
ret's men : when he might have marched on to Limerick, and put an
end to the rebellion in that part of Ireland; but from the entire want
of the necessary means to support his army upon that long march
through a wasted country, he had not from this cause for some time
an opportunity to perform any remarkable exploit.

After the cessation was concluded, he sent aids in men to the king;
and soon after waiting upon his majesty in person to obtain his con-
firmation in the presidency of Munster, he had the affliction to discover
that he did not stand as highly in his majesty's favour as his services
had deserved. A nobleman, in no way connected with Ireland, but
high in court favour, had supplanted him, and the presidency of Muns-
ter was pledged to the earl of Portland. During this visit to the
court, O'Brien was also strongly affected with grief and indignation
to perceive that the king, in order to strengthen himself in any way
he might, was inclined to court the popular party, and to abandon the
protestant interest in Ireland: urged by these considerations, and con-
sidering the interest of his country to be preferable to that of any
other, he soon after his return, began to consider that for the present
at least, this would be most effectually consulted by adopting the par-
liamentary side; and, with this opinion we must so far concur as to
say, that, judging according to the principles of the party he had uni-

* Lodge.

THE O'BRIENS— MURROTJGH, EARL INCHIQUIN. .333

formly acted with, he was not wrong-. On this point two grounds of
common prejudice are likely to bias the judgment: one is the confusion
of the parties in Ireland with those in England: the other the judg-
ment formed from the after circumstances of the war. The war
between Charles and his parliament was viewed in Ireland as secon-
dary to the great struggle for existence between two great parties who
were otherwise in no way further connected with English politics than
as they might promote their several interests; and for this reason, in
judging of the consistency of individuals, it is not to be regarded
whether or not they adhered throughout to the king or to the par-
liament; but whether or not they adhered to their own principles and
party. As to the subsequent misfortunes of Charles, and crimes of
his parliament, they could not, at the period to which we here refer,
have been in the contemplation of any one, and must be left out of the
question. In Ireland, the Roman catholic party, while in direct oppo-
sition to O'Brien's, were also in declared opposition to the king: the
royal party soon saw reason to endeavour to conciliate them, and in this,
were to a great extent successful, while the parliament, on the other
hand, maintained those principles which had a closer affinity with the
protestant interest throughout both kingdoms. It is thus apparent
with what perfect consistency some of the most eminent persons on the
stage of Irish affairs may have changed their paths and kept steady to
their principles.

In 1644, we find O'Brien among the most spirited opponents of a
cessation, which he viewed as more in accordance with the interests of
king Charles than for the protestant interest. He adhered to the
parliament, and acted under its command and by its assistance. Join-
ing with lord Broghill, he drove the Roman catholic magistrates and
inhabitants out of many of the southern towns, Cork, Youghal and Kin-
sale. After which he received from parliament the appointment of
president of Minister. It was at a time however when the parliament
was yet compelled to confine its resources to the wars in England, and
their Irish adherents were left to carry on the struggle as they might
themselves find the means. O'Brien was even compelled to enter into
a truce with the rebels, which continued till the next spring, when the
war was again renewed by the earl of Castlehaven.

On this occasion, he took the field with 1000 horse, and 1500 foot,
and took several castles. But he was not supported by the parliament,
and for some time nothing occurs in his history of sufficient magnitude
to be specified : his zeal for the parliament was probably but small, as
we find some accounts of disputes between him and their commission-
ers. In the year 1647, he obtained a very decided victory at Knock-
nones, near Mallow, 1 3th November, over a strong body of Irish under
lord Taaffe. He had on this occasion 6000 foot, and 1200 horse: the
Irish army amounted to 7000 foot, and 1076 horse. The loss of life
was considerable on both sides : among the slain on the part of lord
Taaffe, was the well known Alexander MacDonell, or Colkitto, so
called for being lefthanded, and famous for personal prowess ; his
name is however best known as occurring in one of Milton's sonnets;

" Colkitto, or MacDonell, or Galasp."

334: TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

On receiving the account of this victory, the parliament voted
£10,000 for the war in Munster, and £1000, with a letter of thanks,
to lord Inchiquin. This money did not however arrive, and in con-
sequence, the army, under lord Inchiquin, began to suffer severely from
want: nor was he without much cause for apprehension from the in-
creasing armies of the Irish, who were on every side watching for the
favourable moment to attack him in his distress. In this extremity
he wrote a spirited remonstrance to the parliament, in which, alluding
to his services, he complains, that of the £10,000 only £1500 had been
remitted for the army. The delay he attributes to the misrepresen-
tations of parliamentary ag'ents in Ireland, with whom he considered
himself to be an object of jealousy. The remonstrance was signed by
his officers; but was ill-received by the parliament, who committed
several of them, but soon after released them.

This may perhaps be the truest way of accounting for his shortly
after opening a treaty with the marquess of Ormonde ; though in his
case as in that of others, the exposure of the real views of the parliamen-
tary party may have been sufficient to cause his desertion of them.
He did not publicly declare an intention, which would at the moment
have only the effect of putting him completely in the power of his
enemies. He became suspected by his officers, but by considerable
effort, and the exertion of much firmness and self-possession, they were
first repressed, and then gained over. The parliament from this began
to keep a close watch over his actions ; but not having it in their power
to displace his lordship, he was still enabled to take such private mea-
sures as appeared best to favour the party he had recently adopted.
Cromwell sent over lord Lisle, with a commission, for a limited time
under the expectation that he might thus both supersede the command,
and undermine the influence, of one whom he knew to be so dangerous
as O'Brien. But the expedient proved unavailing for Cromwell's pur-
pose: the authority of O'Brien was not to be shaken by any effort of a
stranger; and as no step more direct could have been conveniently or
safely adopted, against one, who had not openly declared his designs
in favour of the royal party; the result of this proceeding was rather
an increase than a diminution of his power. At the recall of lord
Lisle, the suspicion against O'Brien seems indeed to have slumbered,
for he was left in the command of the whole English army in the pro-
vince of Munster. This force he carefully endeavoured to strengthen,
and to animate with the spirit of his own intentions. In the mean
time he kept up a constant correspondence with the marquess of Or-
monde, whose movements he tried to accelerate, by all the resources
of entreaty and strong representation.

On the 29th September, 1648, the marquess of Ormonde landed at
Cork. Lord Inchiquin publicly received him as the lieutenant of king
Charles, and by this decided step, drew upon himself the long impend-
ing bolt of parliamentary indignation. The parliament voted him a
traitor; but the king appointed him president of Munster. Nor was
it long before he signalized his newly awakened loyalty. The mar-
quess of Ormonde having received intelligence, that Jones, the parlia-

* Borlase.

THE O'BRIENS— MURROUGH, EARL INCHIQUIN. 335

mentary governor of Dublin, had sent a large detachment of cavalry
to Drogheda, sent lord Inchiquin after them. Inchiquin took first an
entire troop by surprise; and soon after coming up with colonel Chid
ley Coote at the head of three hundred horse, he gave them a bloody
overthrow: killing a great number, and compelling those who escaped,
to scatter in every direction,* Encouraged by this success, and not
unjustly reckoning upon the impression of terror it would create
among the parliamentarians in that quarter, Inchiquin sent messengers
to the marquess with intelligence of his success, and proposing to be-
siege Drogheda. The marquess assented, and forthwith detached to
his aid two regiments of foot, two cannon, with a sufficient supply of
ammunition. With this reinforcement he proceeded to lay siege to
Drogheda, which capitulated within a week, having- made a very gallant
resistance. The garrison, to the amount of six hundred good soldiers,
entered into the ranks of the victorious regiments, by which lord Inchi-
quin was considerably strengthened for further exertion.

A little before this Owen O'Neile had joined the parliamentary side,
and Inchiquin now received information that Monk, who governed in
Dundalk, had orders to supply this new ally with ammunition, and
that a strong party, under the command of general Farrel, had been
sent by O'Neile to receive this important aid. Determining to inter-
rupt this proceeding, Inchiquin marched towards Dundalk. Within a
few miles of that city he met Farrel, who was on his departure with
the supplies he had acquired ; and attacking his forces vigorously, he
destroyed nearly the entire party, routing the cavalry, and killing or
taking the whole of five hundred foot. The supplies designed for
Owen O'Neile thus fell into his hands. Advancing to Dundalk, he
invested it, and in two days, contrived so much to dishearten the gar-
rison, that they compelled Monk to surrender. This was an acqui-
sition of exceeding importance: the military stores were richly sup-
plied, and the whole garrison, officers, and soldiers, joined him freely.
Monk departed alone for England.

But in the mean time the parliamentarians having at length pre-
vailed in England, had their hands set free, and their attention disen-
gaged from a conflict for existence. They now began to turn their
attention to the settlement of affairs in Ireland, which they had hith-
erto regarded only as subsidiary or adverse to their struggles with the
royalists. Cromwell was preparing to come over, and there was dif-
fused a very general impression, that the war would on his arrival,
assume a widely different character, and suffer a change of fortune un-
favourable to the royal party. Under such a sense, the minds of many
began to fall away, and many to undergo a prudent change. Lord Inchi-
quin's troops, of whom the greater part had been parliamentary, and
all ready to join the most solvent employers, deserted — so that by the
end of the same year in which his successes had appeared to promise a
different issue, he was left without a man, and compelled to take refuge
in France.

In France he was advanced by the French king to a command with
the rank of lieutenant-general. And on the conquest of Catalonia

* Borlase.

336 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

appointed viceroy there. He afterwards continued for many years in
the French service in Spain and the Netherlands. On one occasion
lie was with his family taken prisoner by the Algerine corsairs; but
redeemed himself and them. During his captivity, count Schomberg
had been sent to take his command in Portugal, where he had been
sent to assist the Portuguese in the revolt against Spain. Lord Inchi-
quin returned therefore to France, where he lived privately till the
restoration. He then came to England, and was by the act of settle-
ment restored to his estate, and had ,£8,000 granted to him as a com-
pensation out of the treasury, on account of his losses.

His lordship died 9th September, 1674. He had married a daugh-
ter of Sir W. St. Leger, and left three sons and four daughters.

WILLIAM, SECOND EARL OF INCHIQUIN.

DIED A. D. 1692.

This nobleman was son of the preceding, and friend and companion
in arms of Sir Philip Perceval, by whom he was educated, along with
his own son, in London; the military occupations of Lord Inchiquin,
joined to his duties as president of Minister, making it impossible for
him to direct or superintend his education. He accompanied his
father to France when following the fortunes of the exiled king, and
served under him in Catalonia, and afterwards in Portugal, when he
went to assist that country in its revolt against Spain. They had not
proceeded far when they were taken prisoners by an Algerine corsair,
to whom lord Inchiquin had to pay a large sum for the ransom of him-
self and family. The young lord lost an eye in the engagement, and
nearly his life. In 1674, he was appointed "captain-general of his
majesty's forces in Africa, and governor and vice-admiral of the royal
citadel of Tangier, and of the adjacent ports; in which government
he continued six years."* He afterwards returned to England, where
he was made colonel of a regiment of foot, and member of the privy
council. His staunch adherence to the protestant interests did him
little injury in the court of Charles; but in the succeeding reign he
was attainted, and his estate sequestrated. In Ireland he joined the
oppressed party, and headed a numerous body of protestants in the
south, when they were unfortunately surprised and disarmed by major-
general M'Carthy. After the revolution he was appointed governor
of Jamaica, and vice-admiral of the seas. The climate disagreeing
with him, he lived only sixteen months after his arrival there; dying
at St. Jago de la Vega, January, 1691, and was buried in the parish
church. He married twice: first, the lady Margaret Boyle, daughter
to Roger, first earl of Orrery, by whom he had three sons and one
daughter; and secondly, Elizabeth, daughter and co heiress of George
Chandos, and widow of the infidel lord Herbert of Cherbury.

William, his eldest son, was also attainted by king James' parliament,
and served under kin? William both in Ireland and Flanders; after
which he had a long and prosperous life.

* Lodge.

SIR PHILIP PERCEVAL. 337

SIR PHILIP PERCEVAL.

BORN A. D. 1603 DIED A. D. 1647.

The subject of our present memoir was the son of Richard. Perceval,
Esq., lord of Tykenham, who possessed a large property in England,
and having been officially employed in Ireland, subsequently purchased
those extensive estates in Munster which have been since enjoyed hy
Iiis posterity. Being the friend and favourite of lord Burleigh, and
having been signally useful to the queen in deciphering Spanish
documents, which gave the first certain intelligence respecting the
intended invasion of the Armada, his son Sir Philip entered life with
advantages of no common kind, and possessed of talents and acquire-
ments of a very high order. We accordingly find him holding official
situations of trust and emolument before he was twenty. He was
given immense grants of forfeited lands in the counties of Cork, Tip-
perary and Wexford ; and having been made escheator of the province
of Munster, and a commissioner of survey in 1637, he was allowed
" to impark 1600 acres free warren and chace, along with many other
privileges; and this manor is now the estate of the lord Egmont, and
one of the noblest royalties in the three kingdoms."* Having such
large possessions in Ireland which were each year augmented, he
gradually transferred a great portion of his English property thither,
and became at length the proprietor of about 100,000 (English) acres
in the finest parts of the country, besides holding numerous lucrative
situations, many of which were for life. His residence in that coun-
try gave him frequent opportunities of perceiving many slight but
sure indications of the fermentation that was gradually spreading
through the kingdom, and early in the summer of 1641, he felt so as-
sured of the approaching outbreak, that he instantly set about repair-
ing his castles and places of defence, arming his followers, purchasing
horses,' and laying in ammunition, which proved of the utmost impor-
tance, not only to himself, but to that entire portion of the kingdom
which was preserved chiefly through his instrumentality. His castle
of Liscarrol was a place of so much strength, and so well defended,
that it sustained a siege of eleven days against seven thousand foot,
and five hundred horse, besides artillery; and his castle of Armagh, in
the same neighbourhood, when subsequently attacked by lord Mus-
kerry and g-eneral Barry, with an army of five thousand men, resisted
successfully, and with much detriment to the rebels, until betrayed into
their hands by the treachery of some of the garrison. The rebels
carried with them to the attack of Liscarrol, one battering piece which
weighed 6892 pounds, and which they placed in a hollow piece of
timber, and dragged with the aid of twenty-five yoke of oxen over
bogs which were impassable to any wheeled conveyance. On Tues-
day, August 20th, they sat down before the castle, which was strongly
defended both by art and nature. " On the south and west side of it
lay plain and fruitful grounds, environed with a pleasant hill looking

«■ y J Ir.

333 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

into the county of Cork, but on the north and east it was bounded
with woods, bogs, and barren ground. Serjeant Thomas Ryeman
commanded in it with thirty men, and a competent quantity of victuals
and ammunition. The enemy planted their cannon on a little round
rocky hill, within musket-shot of the castle, and Ryeman surrendered
it on Friday, September 2d, in the afternoon, though he was promised
relief the next morning."* That very night lords Inchiquin, Barri-
more, Dungarvon, Kinalmeaky and Broghill arrived at Mallock, and
on the day following was the battle of Liscarrol, which was fatal to
lord Kinalmeaky, and nearly so to lord Inchiquin. They however dis-
lodged and dispersed the rebels with great loss, seven hundred of
whom were slain, while lord Inchiquin lost only twelve men. No
quarter was given, unless to two or three officers, one of whom was
colonel Richard Butler, a son of lord Ikerrin, who was the last to
leave the field.

The state of the country at this time made it necessary to establish
many garrisons in the disturbed districts, and to send them provisions
from a distance, as none would be supplied to them in their immedi-
ate neighbourhoods. Much want and suffering had accrued from the
delays consequent on selecting convoys out of different companies, and
to prevent the recurrence of this, lord Ormonde, then lieutenant-gene-
ral, formed a company of firelocks for the especial purpose of convey-
ing those provisions, and gave the command of it to Sir Philip Perce-
val, who expended large sums in providing it with men and arms at
his own cost as they became necessary. This appointment gave um-
brage, as we have already mentioned in a preceding memoir, to the
earl of Leicester, who considered it an infringement on his authority,
but even the lords-justices on this occasion interposed, and the com-
mission was confirmed to Sir Philip Perceval. Early in the rebellion
he had been appointed commissary-general, and had performed the
duties of that important office with unexampled zeal, energy, and effi-
ciency. He had been sent to Ireland without money, but with letters
from the lord-lieutenant, and the speaker of the House of Commons,
to the lords-justices, assuring them that within twenty days the earl
of Leicester would follow with £100,000 for the supply of the army,
and that in the mean time Mr Frost, the commissioner in London,
would forward to them any provisions required. None of these spe-
cious promises were performed, and after apportioning and dispensing-
whatever provisions could be obtained from the ill-supplied stores of
Dublin, Sir Philip had no alternative but either to see the army driven
to starvation and mutiny, or to supply their pressing necessities out of
his own purse. He accordingly distributed £1380, which, with the
enormous multiplied losses that were entailed on him by the rebellion,
left his wife and children, who resided in London, with scarcely the
common comforts to which they had been habituated. He accordingly
petitioned parliament to refund to them a small portion of the money
he had so liberally advanced, and an order was issued for paying them
£200, which however never was given though often solicited. A pas-
Bage, which we extract from Carte, will give some idea of those losses: — ■

* Carte.

SIR PHILIP PERCEVAL. 339

" Sir Philip Perceval had lost by the rebellion a landed estate of £2000
a-year, personal estate of £20,000, and the benefit of several offices
worth £2000 a-year, which he held for life. He had as clerk of the
crown of the king's bench, been at a very great charge to make up re-
cords of indictments of high treason against three thousand of the rebels,
and those for the most part noblemen, gentlemen, and freeholders, and
been obliged to prosecute two thousand of them to an outlawry. He had,
without any charge to the state, raised and armed a competent number
of soldiers, horse and foot, and maintained them for a year to defend
his castles of Liscarrol and Annagh in the remotest and most exposed
quarters of the protestant party in Munster. He had done the like
with regard to those of Temple, Conila,and Walchestown, till the treaty
of cessation, and had maintained his house of Castlewarning, about
nine miles from Dublin, for some years after. He had relieved three
hundred distressed English for twelve months together in Dublin, and
having been made commissary-general of the victuals of the army, he
had spent £2000 of his own estate in that service, besides goods of
his own, and what money and goods he could procure of others ; had
contracted an arrear of £4000 and upwards, for entertainments due
to him for his several employments in the war; and had engaged him-
self in more than £10,000 for provisions to feed the army, having
never refused to engage himself or his estate for them upon any occa-
sion." When in 1645 he attended the English House of Commons
to solicit the repayment of a portion of this heavy expenditure, they
had the baseness to resist his just claims on the plea of his having been
a party to the cessation, which they designated as " a dangerous plot,"
and notwithstanding his able and unanswerable " vindication," from
which we extracted a paragraph in our memoir of the duke of Ormonde,
they persevered in rejecting his suit, nor did he at any subsequent
period receive the slightest compensation for such sacrifices. His
noble and disinterested ardour for the preservation of the kingdom
was not however to be quenched, even by personal wrong, and we find
him in subsequent years meeting' every emergency with the same liberal
and self-sacrificing spirit, and when in 1645 the officers of the Irish
army, who continued to be exposed to injustice and sufferings by the
unprincipled conduct of the government, had to lay their grievances
before parliament, they gave their most unqualified testimony to the
meritorious efforts and sacrifices of Sir Philip, and added, " that he
was the only instrument under heaven of their preservation." As the
rebellion advanced, and the public funds diminished, he was still im-
pelled on each new emergency, to draw upon his own personal re-
sources, and before the protracted struggle terminated, he had ex-
pended £18,000, for which neither he nor his family ever received any
indemnification. The numerous garrisons he still continued to sup-
port in the south, were powerfully instrumental in obstructing the
advances of the overwhelming forces led by lord Mountgarret, from
the counties of Kilkenny and Tipperary, who, after proceeding as far
as the Ballihowra mountains, and meeting with successive checks and
oppositions, at length retired, and subsequently dispersed.

In 1644, when the king consented to meet the deputies from the
Irish confederates at Oxford, he appointed Sir Philip as one of the

340 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

commissioners; and when the marquess of Ormonde wrote to lord
Oigby secretary of state upon the subject, he refers him to Sir Philip
as the person capable of giving him the fullest information, and he
adds, " and now that I have mentioned Sir Philip Perceval, I may not
pass him by, without a very particular recommendation, as of a man
exceedingly knowing in all the affairs of this kingdom; that hath been
before, in the war, in the treaty, and since the cessation, extremely
industrious to advance the king's service," &c, &c. This testimony
gains some additional importance from the moment at which it was
given. Sir Philip took a most prominent and decided part in the
fruitless transactions at Oxford, strenuously resisting the absurd and
exorbitant demands of the Roman Catholics, while with less than his
usual judgment, he pressed the equally exorbitant claims of the opposite
party. At the conclusion of that treaty, where nothing was concluded,
he found he had become so obnoxious to the Irish, that it would be
unsafe to return amongst them, and receiving the most earnest and
pressing applications at the same time from the parliament through
his friend Holies, he was at length prevailed upon to join their ranks,
and represent the borough of Newport in Cornwall, which had been
long kept vacant for him, probably through the interest of Pym, who
was his near relation.

In the year following, when the parliament sent over Sir Robert
King, Mr Annesley and others, with large supplies of money and
provisions to their long neglected army in Ulster, both Sir Robert and
Sir Philip Perceval had the courage or the folly successively to try
what their personal influence, and specious representations could effect,
in attempting to warp the exalted and invulnerable loyalty of the
marquess of Ormonde, but they quickly relinquished the thankless and
hopeless undertaking.

The province of Ulster, which had still great cause for dissatisfac-
tion in the nominal protection, but real neglect of the parliament,
selected Sir Philip for the management of its affairs at the other side
of the channel, and he executed his trust with such zeal and fidelity,
that he quickly excited the jealousy of the independent party. This
was soon after, much heightened by his firm and conscientious opposi-
tion to those deep and dark designs which circumstances were daily
developing. They in vain assailed his character with accusations and
slanders which were triumphantly repelled, and at length relinquished,
as each new investigation only brought to light fresh instances of self-
devotion,, zeal, and integrity, in the various offices which he had held,
during a period of unequalled trial and difficulty.

On the termination of the cessation in 1647, the army in Munster,
under the command of lord Inchiquin, committed to Sir Philip the
direction and management of their interests, " a commission (as things
then stood,) of great difficulty and hazard; but he cheerfully under-
took it upon this sole principle, which he ever professed, that he would
willingly contribute his life and fortune fur the public or his friend ;
both which he verified by his constant practice."* The army of lord
Inchiquin was at this period exposed to great privations, and Sir

* Lod.-e.

*

SIR PHILIP PERCEVAL. 341

Philip was secretly endeavouring- to incite the earl to the step he so
soon after took, of casting- off the trammels of his hard task-masters,
and again enlisting himself on the side of monarchy. His efforts and
intentions were probably suspected, for the bitter and rancorous
attacks of the independents were again renewed, and they even passed
a vote " that no man, who consented to the cessation, should sit in
parliament," for the sole purpose of excluding- him from that assembly.
To these charges he made an animated and successful defence, and
resumed his seat, with added honour from the signal defeat of enemies,
though supported by power and unrestrained by principle.

This daring- and determined faction daily gaining ground, at length
impeached several of the leading members of the house, who had
opposed their measures, and compelled them reluctantly to withdraw
from the contest; while a small but resolute band headed by Sir
Philip Perceval, still continued to contest the ground with them inch
by inch, notwithstanding the rapid approach of the army, nor did he
desist from his arduous labours, until by their "dishonest victory" they
had actually become masters of the city. He then retired into the
country until the following September, when he learned that his
enemies were again actively engaged in seeking for fresh causes of
accusation, and intended impeaching him for his conduct as commissary-
general. He instantly returned to London and demanded his trial,
but from the groundless absurdity of the charges, it was still postponed.
A strong remonstrance against the general measures and proceedings
of the independents, was at this moment forwarded to him by the army
commanded by lord Inchiquin, which he fearlessly presented, and
though alone and unsupported amongst his enemies, he was upheld by
his own integrity, and their constrained respect. His constitution
however was undermined by the long continuance of his mental and
bodily labours, and he at length sunk under an illness of only a few
days duration. He died November 10th, 1647, regretted and respected
by all parties, and was buried in the church of St Martin-in-the-fields,
Westminster ; primate Usher preaching his funeral sermon. The
parliament, to mark their respect for his memory, took upon itself the
expenses of his funeral, and voted £200 to lady Perceval for the
purpose.

Sir Philip had married in 1626, Catharine, grand-daughter of Sir
William Usher, clerk of the council, by whom he had nine children;
five sons and four daughters.

Dr Robert Maxwell, bishop of Kilmore, wrote the following epitaph,
which was engraved on his monument: —

Epitaphium clarissimi viri Philippi Perceavelli,

Equitis aurati Hibernian, qui obiit bonis omnibus

Desideratissimus 10° die Novembris, a. d. 1647.

Fortunam expertus jacet hie Philippus utramque,
Dotibus ac genere nobilitatus eques :
Qui nisi (sed quis non multis) peccasset in ua»
Quod vitio vertat, vix habet invidia,

Flevit R. Episcopus Kilmorensis Maxwell.

3-42 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

THEOBALD TAAFE, EARL OF CARLIXGFORD.

DIED &.D. 1677-

This nobleman was the second viscount of the name, and in 1639 was
member for the county of Sligo. He took an early and active part in
concert with lord Clanricarde and others, in endeavouring to suppress
the rebellion in its first stages, when the resources of the kingdom,
and the loyalty of its leading men would have been quite sufficient for
the purpose ; before the perverse and treacherous policy of the lords-
justices, aided by the faction in the English House of Commons, insisted
on the necessity of large reinforcements from England and Scotland,
thus weakening the power of the king at home, and irritating the
prejudices of his Irish subjects. The lords Taaffe and Dillon embarked
for England immediately after the prorogation of the Irish parliament,
in the hope of being able in some degree to counteract the effect of
the lords-justices' urgent letter, sent by Mr Fitzgerald (one of the
prosecutors of lord Strafford,) upon the subject. They were driven by
a storm on the coast of Scotland, where they landed, and were making
the best of their way from thence to London, when they were suddenly
seized by order of the House of Commons, their papers taken from
them, and they themselves kept in close custody for several months;
when the parliament having obtained its objects, and the rebellion
become universal, the vigilance of their guards relaxed, and they were
allowed to escape. They at once proceeded to join the king who was
then at York, and though too late to assist him by their counsels, it
became each day more important that they should do so by their arms.
Lord Taaffe attended him in his English wars as a volunteer, and
afterwards proceeded to Ireland, to use his influence with the recu-
sants and Roman catholic nobility, (he being of the same creed,) to
make proposals for a temporary cessation of arms, as, although the
marquess of Ormonde had received directions to treat with the rebels,
he thought it inconsistent with the dignity of the king, to take any
step until they had renewed their former propositions on the subject.
Lord Taaffe accordingly proceeded to Kilkenny, where the general
assembly of the confederates were to meet, accompanied by colonel
John Barry ; they encountered many delays and difficulties in their
negotiations, but at length it was agreed by the major part of the
assembly, that they should apply for a cessation for twelve months,
accompanied by certain stipulations which were to be arranged by
their agents with lord Ormonde at whatever place he should appoint
for a meeting. Lord Taaffe, in his zeal to bring about this desirable
object, had encouraged several of the members to expect a free parlia-
ment, but lord Ormonde, with his usual high sense of honour, would
not for a moment leave them under the impression that he was
authorized to hold out to them such a hope. After some further
delays, the treaty, so desirable to all parties, was concluded with the
sanction of the council and lords-justices.

As the king's difficulties increased, he naturally looked to Ireland
for aid, and lord Taaffe undertook to raise two thousand men for his

THEOBALD TAAFE, EARL OF CARLINGFORD. 343

relief, but his efforts, along with those of colonel Barry, Power, Sir
John Dorgan, &c, were defeated through the treacherous intervention
of the supreme council, who refused to let any troops leave the king-
dom, hut such as they should themselves send; and notwithstanding
all their specious professions, the promised aid was still withheld.

The successes of the troops under Sir Charles Coote in Connaught,
induced the lord-lieutenant to grant a commission to lord Taaffe, for
the purpose of levying a sufficient body of troops for the suppression
and subjugation of all such " as in breach of the cessation had pre-
sumed to enter into any of the quarters allotted in Connaught to such
as were obedient to his majesty's government." Crowds flocked to his
standard, and he besieged and took Tulske, and a variety of garrisons
in the neighbourhood. He also accompanied lord Ormonde into
^ estmeath, and was employed by him in various offices of trust and
responsibility. He was constituted general of the province of Munster,
but lost this situation in 1646, when the marquess concluded a peace
with the Irish; on the interruption of this peace through the intrigues
of the nuncio, aided by O'Neile, the marquess came to the determina-
tion of delivering up Dublin to the parliament, rather than let it fall
into the hands of the rebels. On his making some delay however in
delivering the regalia into the hands of the commissioners, they placed
guards on lord Taaffe, colonel Barry, and Milo Power, and issued
orders for the apprehension of Sir Edmond Verney, colonels George
Vane, Hammond and others. When the marquess remonstrated with
them on the breach of the articles, they did not assign any reason for
their proceedings, but with their usual arbitrary tone, told him they
were competent judges of their own actions.

After the defeat of Preston by colonel Jones at Dungan-hill, lord
Digby, who was at Leixlip waiting for an opportunity of passing into
France, wrote to lord Taaffe, who commanded an army of 8000 foot, and
1 200 horse in Munster, earnestly entreating " that he would not for any
apparent bettering of his circumstances, or out of an impolitick courage
and magnanimity expose his troops that campaign to the hazard of a
battle, but to stand as cautiously as possible upon the defensive; al-
ways remembering that all their hopes, either of serving his majesty
in that kingdom, or in failure thereof, of making their own fortunes
abroad, depended on the preservation of that army." This advice
seems to have been influential in the first instance with lord Taaffe,
who gave no opposition to lord Inchiquin on his entering Tipperary,
and putting that county under contribution for the supply of his
army. Carte gives a curious fact respecting the taking of Cahir
castie which we shall extract: — " He (lord Inchiquin) entered this
county on Saturday, September 3d, very indifferently provided for any
considerable enterprise, having no artillery with him for want of car-
riages to draw it, nor any larger provision of bread than the sol-
diers could carry in their knapsacks. Having taken ten or twelve
small castles, he passed the river Sure, near the castle of Cahir, an
ancient fort, environed by two branches of that river, and on account
of its situation, as well as of the apparent strength of its fortifications,

* Carte.

314 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

deemed by the English officers, as well as the rebels, to be impreg-
nable. This was enough to discourage all attempts upon the place,
notwithstanding the great importance thereof, had not an accident
occasioned an attack, and furnished Inchiquin with hopes of success.
One of his horse, plundering near the town, was wounded by some of
the Irish, and carried prisoner into the castle, from whence he was
allowed to send to the English army for a surgeon to dress his wounds.
Inchiquin had of late encouraged officers who had formerly served the
king, to come into his army, and among others, had admitted one
colonel James Hippesley into his quarters, upon some assurance given
him by a friend of his doing a service. Hippesley was an ingenious
man, skilled in surgery and fortifications, and undertook to go in dis-
guise to the castle, and to dress the wounded soldier. This he did
with so much caution and circumspection, that he discovered perfectly
the condition of the place in every respect, the weakness of the ward,
and especially some defects in the walls of the outward bawne, which
rendered it assaultable. He observed likewise so much timorousness
in the wardens, that he judged the taking- of the bawne would pro-
bably induce them to surrender the castle. Upon these observations,
it was resolved to make the attempt; and Hippesley himself, at the
head of a party, attacking the defective place, carried the outward
bawne and some out-turrets by storm. A few hours after, the castle
surrendered upon quarter for life; though Inchiquin upon entering it
found that he could not have reduced it by force, had the garrison but
had the courage to stand on their defence. Thus easily was a castle
reduced, which in 1599? had held out for two months against the earl
of Essex, and an army of twenty thousand men." Lord Taaffe was so
enraged at the pusillanimity of the garrison that he had the governor
and an hundred of the men, tried by a council of war, and shot. This
conquest of lord Inchiquin's was productive of important results, for
besides supplying' his famishing army with present provisions, and
ample resources for the future, his name spread such a terror that all
either submitted or fled at his approach. Lord Taaffe g-ave no oppo-
sition to his progress, and retired with his army from Cashel as he
advanced towards that town ; cardinal Panzirolli imputes this to a
secret understanding, existing between him and lord Inchiquin, but
subsequent events do not warrant such an opinion. The inhabitants
of Cashel deserted the city and fled to the cathedral, which had been
strongly fortified and garrisoned by Taaffe, and was built on a rock
adjoining the city. After its reduction, and before lord Inchiquin
could stay the slaughter, about twenty of the priests had been killed,
which caused such an outcry amongst the Irish, that Taaffe was com-
pelled to assemble his army at a most inclement season of the year, and
under signal disadvantages. He had with him seven thousand five hun-
red foot, and four regiments of horse, three thousand five hundred of
which he placed on the right wing under lieutenant-general Macdonnel,
along with two regiments of horse, commanded by colonel Purcel;
while he himself took the left wing, with four thousand foot, and two
regiments of horse. Lord Inchiquin with quiet confidence led his disci-
plined and victorious troops to the encounter. They met at a place
called Knocknoness, and colonel Purcel charged the English horse with

THEOBALD TAAFE, EARL OF CARLWGFORD. 345

such impetuosity that they at once gave way, while the Highlanders
under Macdonnel, throwing down their pieces after the first fire, rushed
into the midst of them, sword in hand, and after an immense slaughter,
drove them from off the field, taking possession of the cannon and
carriages of the enemy. Lord Inchiquin in the mean time attacked
the left wing, commanded by lord Taaffe, who fought with determined
courage, but was ill-supported by his Munster regiments, all of whom,
excepting lord Castleconnel's, fled from the field after the first onset.
In vain did lord Taaffe attempt to recall and rally them, the receding
torrent rushed from him at all sides, while with his own hand he cut
down numbers, and thus at least intercepted their flight. Macdonnel
sent to lord Taaffe notice of his success, but becoming impatient at
his messengers not returning, he retired to a small eminence to observe
the progress of the battle. On his return he was unfortunately inter-
cepted by a small party of the enemy and killed, while his brave High-
landers, without a general to command them, stood their ground till
seven hundred of them were killed, when the remainder threw down
their arms and asked for quarter. The Irish lost about three thou-
sand men, amongst whom were the flower of their army, along with
their ammunition and baggage.

Lord Inchiquin, who always in his heart leaned to the monarchy, at
length joined lord Taaffe and others in sending communications to lord
Ormonde, and in their earnest entreaties to him to return to Ireland.
Taaffe and Preston took a solemn oath to stand by one another in sup-
port of the king's right, and, in obedience to lord Ormonde ; and lord
Inchiquin made solemn protestations " to live and die with him in
the prosecution of his majesty's service."

The cessation was at length established between the friends and sup-
porters of the king, and the confederates, notwithstanding the determined
opposition of the nuncio and O'Neile, the latter of whom the assembly
at Kilkenny had publicly proclaimed to be a traitor and a rebel. He
however wrote a letter conjointly with his officers to that body, desir-
ing a safe conduct for himself and others of his party, that they might
lay their grievances before that assembly. This Taafie strenuously
opposed, though by doing so he ran the risk of a committal through
the influence of O'Neile's friends.

About this period the generals of particular provinces were sup-
pressed, and lords Taaffe and Castlehaven became candidates for the
appointment of general of horse. The situation had been promised
to the latter two years before, and he was accordingly nominated, but
lord Taaffe 's merits were so generally acknowledged, and so very
great, that he felt much discontent at the preference being given to
his rival; his devoted attachment however to the royal cause, then in
so tottering a state, made him suppress all private feelings, and con-
tinue his arduous and energetic efforts for its support. The year fol-
lowing, on the death of Sir Thomas Lucas, he was made master of the
ordnance, a situation for which his talents and long experience had
peculiarly qualified him. Preston in his turn became discontented at
this nomination, and it has even been hinted, that in consequence of
his disappointment, he joined in the vile plot which was about this
time set on foot to assassinate lord Ormonde.

346 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

In 1651, when Synot and Antonio were sent by the duke of Lorraine
to treat with lord Ormonde respecting the loan he had previously pro-
mised lord Taaffe, the marquess, who was then despatching him to the
king, delayed his voyage for the purpose of having the treaty previously
adjusted. He, with Athenry and Geffrey Browne, were empowered to
make the arrangements with Synot, but while they were on the road
to Galvvay, captain Antonio hastily sailed out of the harbour, leaving
behind him lord Taaffe, and his other passengers, whose baggage he had
on board; he however took lord Taaffe on board at a creek in Irecon-
naght, and until he was gone Synot made various excuses to delay the
conference with his colleagues, and then said, that as Antonio was
gone he had no means of raising the money.

Lord Taaffe arrived in the island of Jersey in July, and obtained a let-
ter from the duke of York to the duke of Lorraine, which he took with
him to Paris, where he remained until November, when he proceeded
to Brussels, and delivered his credentials to the duke. After perusing
the papers relative to the loan, he expressed his willingness to assist the
nation, but added, that he saw no person invested with sufficient autho-
rity from the king, with whom he could conclude the treaty. Taaffe at
once engaged that any place in that kingdom, which was in the king's
possession, should be delivered to him as security for the repayment of
the sum. He also proposed on his own authority, a marriage between
the duke of York and the duke of Lorraine's illegitimate daughter, by
the princess of Cantecroix, a child not three years old. Whether it
was the prospect of this alliance, or considerations more exclusively
personal that swayed him, he at once delivered to lord Taaffe £5000
to buy arms and ammunition, which the latter forwarded to Ireland
before Christmas. " Lord Taaffe," writes Carte, " at first gave him
his bond in behalf of the kingdom for that sum; but the duke returned
it to him in a few days, with a message, that his lordship's word was
of more value to him, and what he had given was but an earnest of the
future supplies he should send the nation. Taaffe easily imagined he
had some design in that civility, and desired to know what retribution
he expected from that poor kingdom. The duke ascribed all to his
compassion for the miserable circumstances of the poor catholics of
Ireland, which affected him so much, that if invited by them, he would
personally appear in their defence, with such a fund of money and
other necessaries, as would probably in a short time recover the king-
dom. Taaffe asking him by what title or commission he would under-
take that work, he answered, he would seek no other title than duke of
Lorraine; but that he expected an entire obedience from all persons,
and would not serve by commission from any body." Taaffe was
rather startled by these conditions, and proposed that some person of
rank should be sent into Ireland to treat with the marquess of Or-
monde, or some one in authority in that kingdom. Lord Taaffe
who seemed fruitful in matrimonial speculations, suggested the possibi-
lity of a marriage being brought about between Mademoiselle de Ban-
ners, the sister of the princess of Cantecroix, and the youthful earl of
Ossory, the lady being ten years his senior. The marquess of Or-
monde however declined the consideration of the subject until the con-
templated union of the duke of York, and the infant princess should

THE CHICHESTERS— SIR ARTHUR. 347

have been decided upon. The duke of Lorraine sent his envoy to
Ireland, and it was agreed that £20,000 should be advanced upon the
security of the towns of Limerick and Galway, but the duke of Lor-
raine's proposals, accompanying this promise, were of so very suspi-
cious and questionable a nature, that the queen and the marquess of
Ormonde at once saw that it would come to nothing.

On lord Taaffe's arrival in Paris, he was mortified at finding not
only the inauspicious state of things concerning the treaty, but that
the queen had been seriously offended by his officious though well-
meaning interference respecting the mai-riage of the duke of York,
Through the kind offices of the marquess he was however quickly re-
instated in her favour, and on his return to Brussels, would take no part
in the unauthorized and unwarrantable treaty concluded between the
duke and Sir Nicholas Piunket and Mr Browne, though these gentle-
men added lord Taaffe's signature to it after his departure.

On Cromwell's act of parliament for the settlement of Ireland, he
was excepted from pardon for life and estate, but after the restoration,
the king ordered that he should be paid £800 a-year out of the trea-
sury monthly, for his personal expenses, until his estate should be re-
stored to him, and that he should be put into possession of it as expe-
ditiously as possible. The acts of settlement accordingly reinstated
him, along with his relatives Christopher Taaffe of Braganstown, and
Theophilus Taaffe of Cookstown in their respective estates, which had
been severally forfeited. The king also, having a strong personal
regard for him, " was pleased," as is stated in his patent, June, 1662,
" as an especial mark of the gracious sense he had of his eminent ser-
vices for him and his interests, to honour him with the dignity of earl
of Carlingford in the county of Louth, entailing that honour on the
heirs male of his body," and he was accordingly advanced to that title
with the creation fee of £20. In consideration also of his losses and
services, and for the better maintenance of the title, the king further
granted to him £4000 of the rents payable to the crown, out of the
retrenched lands of soldiers and adventurers, and settled on him in
1676, a pension of £500 a-year.

Lord Taaffe married twice; his first wife was Mary, daughter of
Sir Nicholas White of Leixlip, who brought him a large fortune, and
by whom he had six sons and one daughter ; his second wife was Anne,
daughter of Sir William Pershall, who out-lived him, and by whom
he had no family. He died December the 31st, 1677, and was bur-
ied at Ballymote.

THE CHICHESTERS.

SIR ARTHUR CHICHESTER.

DIED A. D. 1624.

Tut: name and lineage of Chichester has been traced by the heralds
to an ancient family in Devonshire.

348 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

The subject of this memoir was the second son of Sir John Chiches-
ter, knight: his mother was Gertrude, daughter of Sir William Court-
ney of Powderham castle, in Devonshire: he was born at Raleigh, his
father's seat in that county. A precocious promise of talent was probably
the occasion of his being at an early age sent to pursue his studies at
the university. But there was an activity in his temperament which
soon rendered him impatient of a studious life. A daring frolic, more
suited to the manners of his time than the present, made it necessary
for him to fly the country. The queen's purveyors, instruments of
despotic power, and by no means limiting their exactions to the demands
of law, were the objects of popular hatred, and considered (like the
bailiffs of the last generation) as fair game for either mischief or spite:
they were universally set down as robbers, and it was thought by the
young student to be no bad joke to follow the precedent of prince
Henry, and ease the robber of his plunder. This exploit was followed
by discovery, and Chichester was compelled to save himself from the
resentment of the queen, who little relished a joke for which she was
to have paid; the unpopularity of the exaction made it dangerous, as
the laughter of the public was imbittered by discontent ; it was no
laughing matter to Elizabeth. Chichester betook himself to France,
where his personal bravery and military talent recommended him to the
favour of Henry IV., by whom he was knighted. His reputation soon
reached the English court, where it was not lost upon the ear of the
queen. It was her study to encircle her throne with genius and hero-
ism, and Chichester received his pardon.

After some years spent in the military service, he was sent into Ire-
land, where his services were numerous, and his promotion rapid. He
commanded the troops garrisoned at Carrickfergus in 1599, and was,
during the entire of that war which we have related in the life of Hugh,
earl of Tyrone, among the most active, successful, and trusted leaders
under lord Mountjoy. In 1603, he was appointed by patent, governor
of Carrickfergus, with the fee of thirteen shillings per day for life.
In the next year a new patent extended his powers; he was appointed
commander of all the forces and governor of the inhabitants of the
surrounding districts, of which the towns, forts, shipping and fisheries
were placed at his discretion. This was followed by another patent,
appointing him lord-deputy of Ireland. He began his government by
renewing the circuits, and establishing two for the first time, as already
described, so as to establish justice and order throughout the country.
He at the same time issued proclamations declaring the abolition of
tanistry, and enforcing the laws. Among the numerous projects for
the plantation of Ulster, that of Chichester was selected, and its
details carried through by his own skill and activity.

In recompense for these great services to Ireland, king James made
him a grant of Inishowen, the territory of Sir Cahir O'Doherty, with
other rights and lands in the province of Ulster.

On the meeting of parjiament, Sir Arthur was created baron Chi-
chester of Belfast. In the preamble to his patent there occurs a
remarkable passage, which we here extract because it evidently con-
tains the idea of James and his councillors concerning this island and
its condition: — "Hibernian, insula; post Britanniam omnium insuiarum

/

THE CHICHESTERS— ARTHUR, EARL OF DONEGAL. 349

oecidentalium maxima? efc amplissimse, ot pulcherrimae, coeli et soli
felicitate et fsecunditate aflaentis et insignis; sed nihilominus per multa
jam secula perpetuis seditionum et rebellionum fluctibus jactatse ;
necnon superstitioni et barbaribus moribus, prcesertim in provincia
Ultonise, addictse et immersae."

We here also insert a letter to Chichester from the king, who, when
favouritism did not influence his feeble character, was a just and dis-
criminating observer: — "As at first you were called by our election
without seeking for it, to tins high place of trust and government of
our kingdom of Ireland, and have so faithfully discharged the duties
thereof, so now we are pleased, merely of our own grace, without any
mediation of friends, without your suit or ambition, to advance you to
the state of a baron of that kingdom, in acknowledgment of your many
acceptable services performed to us there."

Chichester continued in his government for the ten years ending
with the parliament of 1613, the cardinal period of Irish history. As
the events in which he was a principal actor are those which, from
their primary importance, we have selected for the introduction to this
period, we may pass on the more briefly to the end of this memoir.

Chichester was a second time appointed lord deputy in 1614. ■ On
this occasion he maintained his wonted activity, by repressing many
disorders in the counties of Leinster, especially in those more wild and
uncultivated mountain districts of the county of Wicklow, which he
reduced to subjection.

In 1615 he obtained the king's permission to retire from his ar-
duous post, but was in the next year appointed lord high treasurer of
Ireland. He built a splendid house for his own residence at Carrick-
fergus.

In 1622, he was sent ambassador to the Palatinate. To enter on
the subject of this embassy we should occupy a space disproportionate
to the scale of this memoir. He returned in October the same year,
and was sworn of the privy council. He died in the year 1624,
in London, and was interred in a chapel on the north side of the
church of St. Nicholas in Carrickfergus, about eight months after his
death.

He was married to a daughter of Sir John Perrott, by whom he had
one son who died in little more than a month after his birth. In con-
sequence his estates descended to his next brother, Sir Edward Chi-
chester. As we shall not have to offer any further notice of this per-
son, we may here add, that his brother's title had been limited to his
issue male; the title fell, but as Sir Edward was a person of influence
and very serviceable, King Charles revived the title and added a step
by the title of viscount Chichester of Carrickfergus.

ARTHUR CHICHESTER, FIRST EARL OF DONEGAL.

BORN A. D. JUNE, 1606 — DIED A. D. 1674.

Arthur Chichester, nephew to the first nobleman of that name,
and son to Edward viscount Chichester, and Anne daughter and heiress

of John Coplestone of Eggesford in the county of Devon, commenced
early the career of arms, in which he was subsequently so eminently
distinguished. Before he was of age he was nominated captain to the
first troop of horse that should become vacant, and was appointed to
it in 1627, on the resignation of lord Valentia. He became member
for the county of Antrim in 1639, captain of sixty-three carbines,
with the pay of £1 4s. per day, and arrived at the rank of colonel
before the breaking out of the rebellion.* Carte, in describing its
earliest manifestations, says, " Colonel Arthur Chichester was resi-
dent at Carrickfergus, when the news of the insurrection was first
brought thither upon Saturday, October 23, about ten of the clock at
night. He immediately ordered drums to be beat, and fires to be
made in the most eminent places of the country, to raise the people,
who, grown secure by a long peace, were exceedingly startled at
the noise of war. He took a view of the arms lodged in the stores
of the castle, and laid by as many of them as could be spared to be
distributed the next day. The country came in apace, bringing what
arms they could get, so that in a short time the streets were full of
men ; but most of them provided with no better weapons than pitch-
forks." He adds, " Edward, lord viscount Chichester, immediately
sent away an express to Scotland, to advertise his majesty of the rebel-
lion, the state of the country, and the danger that was likely to ensue.
Colonel Chichester likewise, leaving only fifty musqueteers under the
command of captain Roger Lindon to guard the castle, delivered out
the rest of the arms, with powder and bullets, to the country people,
and formed them into companies, putting the most considerable gen-
tlemen of the county over them as captains, and making others offi-
cers for the present necessity."

The rebels surprised Newry, where Sir Arthur Tyringham and his
company were quartered: he with difficulty escaped, but his men were
seized and disarmed: they also took several persons of note prisoners,
and what was more to their purpose, possessed themselves of seventy
barrels of gunpowder, and a large quantity of arms out of the castle.

Colonel Chichester held a consultation whether it might be best to
keep within the walls, for the defence of Carrickfergus, of which his
father was governor, or to march out and meet the enemy in the field.
The latter course was adopted on lord Montgomery of Arde's promis-
ing to meet them at Lisnegarvy (now called Lisburn) with one thou-
sand men. They accordingly, after leaving a sufficient g-arrison in
the town and castle, mustered about three hundred men, which was
strengthened by one hundred and fifty from Antrim as they advanced
on their march. The lord of Ardes lay that night at Drumbee, with
about eight hundred horse and foot, from whence he marched the next
day to Lisnegarvy, where he was met on the following by colonel
Chichester.

On finding that Dromore was nearly deserted by its inhabitants, and
that colonel Matthews only succeeded in retaining that small number
together, by keeping the solitary merchant who remained in the town
(of the name of Boyd,) in confinement; (for if the people had seen him de-
part, none would have remained ;) colonel Chichester took with him two

* Lod're.

THE CHICHESTERS— ARTHUR, EARL OF DONEGAL. 351

hundred foot of his own, lord Conway's troops of horse which were
well armed, besides one troop of light horse to its relief: when he ar-
rived there he found it utterly defenceless, and surrounded in all direc-
tions by the enemy. He sent out scouts to view the country, and made
his troopers remain on horseback all night, but most of the foot soldiers
and the light horse scattered in various directions in search of plun-
der. The next day, on receiving intelligence that the enemy was ad-
vancing in vast numbers, he assembled as many of his forces as could
be collected, and went out to meet them. When he was about half-a-
mile from the town, he saw about fifteen hundred advancing in three
divisions, in the direction he had taken, and was most earnest to bring
them to an immediate engagement, but was dissuaded by some old
and experienced officers, who saw that the rebels had seized on a most
advantageous position; and that if colonel Chichester attacked them
with his handful of men, he would not only have numbers to contend
with, but every disadvantage of ground either for attack or retreat.
He accordingly returned to Dromore for the remainder of his men,
and marched back to Lisnegarvy, determining to attack them the next
day, when he should be reinforced by lord Montgomery's forces.

On the following morning they accordingly marched towards Dro-
more, but when Sir Con Magenis, who had taken possession of the
town in the interval, heard of their approach, he set fire to it and
retired to Newry. After this, the various forces returned to their
garrisons, and lord Conway's troop, with a party of two hundred foot,
were stationed in Lisnegarvy. Sir Phelim O'Neile remained the chief
part of November in his camp at Newry, from whence, on the 8th, he
despatched about three thousand men to take Lisnegarvy, hearing how
ill it was provided with either men or ammunition. The garrison had
no notice of their approach, so that some of the enemy had entered the
streets, and were near seizing two of their field-pieces, before they were
aware of their arrival. The inhabitants, unprepared with any other
weapons of defence, pulled the fire out of their hearths, and set their
houses in a blaze around them; and captains Burley and Dines, lead-
ing out their men, rushed upon them with such impetuosity, that they
cpiickly drove them out of the town without losing one of their own
men, while eighty of the rebels were slain. Sir Phelim made no fur-
ther attack upon the town until the latter end of the month, when he
sent an army of four thousand men against it, which was nearly
doubled by reinforcements from other rebel generals, before it reached
Lisnegarvy. The details of the gallant and successful resistance
which it made, have been simply and circumstantially given by an eye-
witness, who inserted an entry of it in one of the old vestry books,
which still exists, belonging to the church at Lisburn, and as the docu-
ment is curious, we give it verbatim: —

Lisnegarvy, the 28th of November, 1G41

" A brief relation of the miraculous victory there that day over the
first formed army of the Irish, soon after their rebellion, which broke
out the 23d of October, 1641.

" Sir Phelemy O'Neil, Sir Conn Maginnis, their generals then in
Ulster, and major-general Plunkett, (who had been a soldier in

352 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

foreign kingdoms) liaving enlisted and drawn together out of the
countries of Armagh, Tyrone, Antrim, and Down, and other countries
in Ulster, eight or nine thousand men, which formed into eight regi-
ments, and a troop of horse, with two field-pieces; they did rendezvous
on the 27th of November, 1 G4 1 , at and about a house belonging to Sir
Georg-e llawdon at Brookhill, three miles distant from Lisnegarvy, in
which town they knew there was garrisons of five companies, newly
raised, and the lord Conway's troop of horse ; and their principal de-
sign being to march into and besiege Carrickfergus, they judged it
unsafe to pass by Lisnegarvy, and therefore resolved to attack it next
morning, making little account of the opposition could be given them
by so small a number, not half armed, and so slenderly provided of
ammunition, (which they had perfect intelligence of by several Irish
that left our party and stole away to them,) for that they were so
numerous and well provided of ammunition by the fifty barrels of
powder they found in his Majesty's store, in the castle of Newry, which
they surprised the very first night of the rebellion; also they had got
into their hands the arms of all the soldiers they had murdered in
Ulster, and such other arms as they found in the castles and houses
which they had plundered and burnt in the whole province. Yet it
so pleased God to disappoint their confidence ; and the small garrison
they so much slighted, was much encouraged by the seasonable arrival
of Sir George Rawdon, who, being- in London on the 23d of October,
hasted over by the way of Scotland, and being landed at Bangor, got
to Lisnegarvy, though late, on the 27th of November, where those new-
raised men, and the lord Conway's troop, were drawn up in the market-
place, expecting hourly to be assaulted by the rebels, and they stood
in that posture all the night, and before sunrise, sent out some horse
to discover their numerous enemy, who were at mass ; (it being Sun-
day) but immediately upon sight of our scouts, they quit their devo-
tion, and beat drums, and marched directly to Lisnegarvy; and before
ten of the clock, appeared drawn in battalia in the warren, not above
a musket-shot from the town, and sent out two divisions of about six
or seven hundred a-piece to compass the town, and placed their field-
pieces on the highway to it, before their body, and with them and
their fowling-pieces, killed and wounded some of our men as they
stood in their ranks in the market-place ; and some of our musqueteers
were placed in windows to make the like returns of shot to the enemy.
And Sir Arthur Terringham, (governor of Newry,) who commanded
the garrison, and Sir George Kawdon, and the officers foreseeing- if
their two divisions on both sides of the town should fall in together,
that they would overpower our small number. For prevention there-
of, a squadron of horse, with some musqueteers, was commanded to
face one of them that was marching on the north side, and to keep
them at distance as long as they could ; which was so well performed,
that the other division, which marched by the river, on the south side,
came in before the other, time enough so to be well beaten back by
the horse, and more than two hundred of them slain in Bridge street,
and in their retreat as they fled back to the main body.

" After which execution, the horse returning to the market-place,
found the enemy had forced into our small party on the north side,
and had entered the town, and was marching down Castle street, which

THE CHICHESTERS— ARTHUR, EARL OF DONEGAL. 353

our horse so well charged there, that at least three hundred of the
rebels were slain in the street, aid the meadow behind the houses,
through which they did run away to their main body, whereby they
were so much discouraged, that almost in tw© hours after, their offi-
cers could not get out any more parties to adventure a second assault
upon us; but in the mean space, they entertained us with continued
shot from their body and their field -pieces, till about one of the clock,
that fresh parties were drawn out and beaten back as before, with loss
of many of their men, which they supplied still with others till night;
and in the dark they fired all the town, which was in a few hours
turned into ashes; and in that confusion and heat of the fire, the ene-
my made a fierce assault. But it so pleased God, that we were better
provided for them than they expected, by a relief that came to us at
night-fall from Belfast, of the earl of DonegalPs troop, and a company
of foot, commanded by captain Boyd, who was unhappily slain pre-
sently after his first entrance into the town. And after the houses
were on fire about six of the clock, till ten or eleven, it is not easy to
give any certain account or relation of the several encounters in divers
places of the town between small parties of our horse here and there, and
of the rebels, and whom they charged as they met and hewed them down,
so that every corner was filled with carcases, and the slain were found
to be more than thrice the number of those that fought against them,
as appeared next day, when the constables and inhabitants employed
to bury them, gave up their accounts. About ten or eleven of the
clock, their two generals quit their station, and marched away in the
dark, and had not above two hundred of their men with them, as we
were informed next morning by several English prisoners that escaped
from them, who told us the rest of their men either ran away before
them or were slain ; and that there were two field-pieces was thrown into
the river, or in some moss-pit, which we could never find after, and in
this their retreat, or this their flight, they fired Brookhill house, and the
lord Conway's library in it, and other goods, to the value of five or six
thousand pounds, their fear and haste not allowing them to carry any
thing away, except some plate and linen; and this did in revenge to
the owner, whom they heard was landed the day before, and had been
active in the service against them, and was shot that day, and also had
his horse shot under him, but mounted presently upon another, and
captain St John, and captain Burley, were also wounded, and about
thirty men more of our party, most of which recovered, and not above
twenty-five or twenty-six were slain. And if it be well considered,
how meanly our men were armed, and all our ammunition spent before
night, and that if we had not been supplier* with men by the timely
care and providence of the earl of Donegall and other commanders
from his majesty's store at Carrickfergus, (who sent us powder, post,
in mai's, on horseback, one after another) and that most of our new-
raised companies were of poor stript men, that had made their escape
from the rebels, of whom they had such a dread, that they thought them
not easily to be beaten, and that all our horse (who did the most exe-
cution,) were not above one hundred and twenty, viz., the lord Con-
way's troops, and a squadron of the lord Grandison's troop, (the rest
of them having been murdered in their quarters in Tanragee,) ruid
n. ^ I,..

354 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

about forty of a country troop newly raised, until that of the troop
company from Belfast came to us at night. It must be confessed that
the Lord of Hosts did signally appear for us, who can save with or
without any means, and did by very small means give us the victory
over His and our enemies, and enough of their arms to supply the
defects of our new companies, besides about fifty of their colours and
drums. But it is to be remembered much with regret, that this loss
and overthrow did so enrage the rebels, that for several days and
weeks after, they murdered many hundreds of protestants whom they
had kept prisoners in the counties of Armagh and Tyrone, and other
parts of Ulster, and tormented them by several manners of death.
And it is a circumstance very observable, that much snow had fallen
in the week before this action, and in the day before it was a little
thaw, and, frost thereupon in the night, so that the streets were covered
with ice, which proved greatly to our advantage; for that all the
smiths had been employed that whole night to frost our horses, so
that they stood firm, when the brogues slipt and fell down under their
feet. For which, and our miraculous deliverance from a cruel and
bloody enemy, how great cause have we to rejoice and praise the name
of our God, and say with that kingly prophet — ' If it had not been
the Lord himself who was on our side when men rose up against us,
they had swallowed us up quick, when they were so wrathfully dis-
pleased at us. Yea the waters of the deep had drowned us, and the
stream had gone over our soul; the deep waters of the proud had gone
over our souls ; praised be the Lord who has not given us over for a
prey unto their teeth : our soul is escaped even as a bird out of the
snare of the fowler : the snare is broken and we are delivered. Our
help standeth in the name of the Lord who hath made heaven and
earth. Amen.' "

The army of Ireland consisted at that time of fourteen troops,
amounting to 943 horse, and of forty-one independent companies,
making 2297 foot.* Only three of these troops, lord Conway's, lord
Grandison's, and colonel Chichester's, were allowed to remain in the
north; lord Wilmot's and Sir W. St Leger's, with the presidents of
Connaught and Minister, and all the rest, were summoned to Dublin.
Notwithstanding the obstinate refusal of the lords-justices to send re-
inforcements to the north, either from the wish of allowing the rebel-
lion to spread, or as Sir W. St Leger asserted, " that they were so
horribly afraid of their own persons, that they thought the old army
and all the new raised forces little enough for their security;" the small
bodies that were under the command of colonel Chichester, lord Mont-
gomery, Sir W. Cole, &c, &c, kept the rebels on the defensive, and
prevented them from maintaining their ground in the north. About
the middle of April general Monroe landed at Carrickfergus with
2500 Scots, when he was joined by lord Conway and colonel Chiches-
ter, with 1800 foot, besides horse. They at once directed their march
to Newry, from which the rebels fled as they approached, and the
castle was surrendered to them without any opposition. It was found
to contain only half-a-barrel of powder, and about sixty muskets.

* Carte.

THE CHICHESTERS— ARTHUR, EARL OF DONEGAL. 355

During the remainder of this year Monroe remained quite inactive,
and the regiments under colonel Chichester, Sir Arthur Tyrringhani,
the lords Claneboy and Ardes, &c, were left in so totally destitute a
state, without pay, provisions, or ammunition, that they could do but
little, and were with difficulty kept from disbanding; while their com-
manders were gradually exhausting their own fortunes in maintain-
ing them.

On the arrival of Conally in 1644, with the letters of parliament
pressing them to take the covenant, lord Montgomery, Sir Robert
Stewart, Sir William Cole, colonel Chichester, &c, called a meeting in
Belfast to consider what should be done, and privately agreed among
themselves, witbout entering into particulars with the parliament, to
preserve their inviolable allegiance to the king, to obey the orders of
the marquess of Ormonde, and not to accept the covenant nor any com-
mander over them.

After Monroe and his officers had with great solemnity taken the
covenant in the church of Carrickfergus, the Scotch clergy traversed
the country in all directions, pressing it upon the soldiers and inha-
bitants with as much zeal and earnestness as if their salvation depended
upon it, and in many instances refusing to give the sacrament to those
who rejected it. On hearing of these proceedings the lord-lieutenant
and the council sent positive orders to all the colonels in Ulster to
publish the proclamation against the covenant at the head of their
respective regiments. The colonels were aware not only of the strong
infatuation that existed upon the subject, but also that most of their
own soldiery had already accepted it; but yet, with a brave defiance
of the consequences, Sir Robert Stewart, colonel Chichester, colonel
Hill, and the commanding officer of lord Conway's regiment, had
their regiments drawn out, and respectively read the proclamation.
When colonel Chichester had finished it, " one of his captains, a lieu-
tenant, and about thirty of the common soldiers, protested publiclv
against it, and declared that, if no public act had been done by their
colonel against the covenant, they would never have taken it (as now
they would) nor have deserted him or his commands. The colonel
could not but take notice of this insolence ; but all that he could do
to punish it was to suspend those officers from their commands for the
present, not daring to proceed with greater rigour, because he was not
provided for defence, and every bit of bread that his men ate, came
through the hands of the Scots." The wants of the army became
every day more pressing, and colonel Chichester made so strong a
representation of them to the lord-lieutenant, that he, on his own pri-
vate credit, raised £300 and sent it to colonel Chichester for the im-
mediate relief of his garrison in Belfast, and promised farther supplies
as soon as they arrived from England. He also gave him authority to
act as he judged best respecting the refractory officers and soldiers, but
observed that he had always found "round dealing with the Scots full
as available as connivance, and that he should be bold with them if thev
were in Dublin." A very few days, says Carte, "passed before the
colonel, with all his lenity, suffered as much mischief as ever he appre-
hended from severity, and found by experience that connivance at

356 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

public insolences is the most improper method in nature to procure
obedience; and that impunity, instead of engaging offenders to a
greater fidelity, only emboldens them to commit new crimes."

Monroe having received a commission from the English parliament
under their new seal, appointing him commander-in-chief of the
English as well as Scotch forces in Ulster, Sir James Montgomery
(who had received information on the subject) sent to summon a
meeting- of the commanding officers of the different districts in Belfast,
which place colonel Chichester commanded. They met on the evening
of the 13th of May, but adjourned their consultation to the following
morning. Late at night a soldier of colonel Chichester's regiment
came from Carrickfergus with intelligence that Monroe had given
orders to some Scotch regiments to be in readiness to march on Belfast
at two in the morning. Colonel Chichester instantly gave orders to
have all the guards doubled, and called out every officer in the garri-
son upon duty. As an additional security, scouts were sent out to
ascertain the state of the country, and to give the earliest notice of
his approach. They returned at six in the morning, asserting that
they had gone within three miles of Carrickfergus, and that the whole
country Avas in the most profound tranquillity. Trusting to this
treacherous statement, the additional guards were incautiously dis-
missed, and the officers who had been all night on duty were allowed
to retire to rest. Silently and treacherously Monroe approached, and,
having corrupted the scouts, he had also previously made arrangements
with the sergeant of the guard who kept the gate at that side of the
city, to admit him and his followers, so that he was enabled to cross
the town without any interruption, and when he arrived at the gate
at the other side of the city, leading to Lisnegarvy, he directed his men
to possess themselves of the cannon and bulwarks, and to take the
guards prisoners. Colonel Chichester, made in the same moment
aware of the loss of the town and the uselessness of opposition, sent
some of the other colonels to inquire the meaning of Monroe's
hostile movements. He answered, that as colonel Chichester had
thought proper to publish a proclamation against the covenant,
which implied that all those who had taken it should thenceforth be
considered as traitors; he did not conceive that those who trusted to
his protection would be safe without his having a garrison of his own in
the place, and that he had accordingly taken that course as the only
one left open to him. He immediately desired that all colonel Chi-
chester's men, except those who guarded his own house, should leave
Belfast, and took measures for the custody of the city. He then pro-
ceeded to Lisnegarvy, whither Sir Theophilus Jones had gone the
preceding evening, and, supported by the fidelity of the garrison, had
taken such effectual means for its defence, that Monroe, after a confer-
ence with colonel Jones, in which he found that the soldiers were not
to be corrupted, thought it better not to tarnish his bloodless laurels,
and returned to Belfast. Thus a second time, in so short a period,
had that small town, by its loyalty, fidelity, and bravery, resisted the
attacks of two armies, overwhelming in their numbers, and opposite in
their principles and discipline. Colonel Chichester, indignant at the

unfair advantage that had been taken of him, would not condescend to
accept of the privilege allowed him of residing in his own castle, but
went to England to complain of his wrongs.

The position of affairs in the north, along with the disaffection of
the armv, making his return there useless, he removed to Dublin and was
sworn in a member of the privy council.. His great fidelity in the royal
cause, joined to his long services, induced the marquess of Ormonde,
in 1645, to write a letter to the king, reminding him of those claims,
and suggesting his elevation. We extract a portion of it: " You have
been graciously pleased of late to reward some that have either served
vour majesty actually, or suffered for you eminently in their persons or
fortunes, with new creations or with additions of honour in this kingdom.
That colonel Arthur Chichester hath missed such a mark of your ma-
jesty's favour, I conceive to have been through his own modesty, and
my not representing1 his personal merit. If he outlives his father he
will be among the foremost of the viscounts of this kingdom in place,
and (I am sure,) beyond them all, except one, in fortune, though he be
for the present deprived of the latter for his faithfulness to your ma-
jesty's crown, the same means by which his uncle got both it and his
honour. He hath served your majesty against the Irish rebellion since
the beginning of it; and when, through an almost general defection of
the northern army he was no longer able to serve your majesty there,
he came with much hazard to take his share in the sufferings of your
servants here, and with them to attend for that happy time that (we
trust,) will put us in a condition to contribute more to your service
than our prayers. If your majesty shall think fit to advance this
gentleman to an earldom, I conceive that of Dunnegall, a county in
the province of Ulster, wherein he shall have a good inheritance, is
fittest, which I humbly offer to your majesty's consideration, as a part
of the duty of

" Your majesty's, &c.

" Ormonde."

The king, upon this representation, created him earl of Donegal,
with limitation of the honour to the issue male of his father; his own
children, of whom he had thirteen, being dead, excepting two daugh-
ters, the youngest of whom survived him. In the year following he
had a heavy domestic calamity in the death of his second wife, Mary,
daughter of John Digby, first earl of Bristol, by whom he had had
seven children. He had lost his first wife, Dorcas, daughter of John
Hill, Esq. of Honiley, when he was only twenty-four, after she had
given birth to a daughter. His third wife was Letitia, only surviving
daughter of Sir William Hickes, bart. of Rookshall in Essex.*

After the restoration he was made captain of a troop of horse, and
Custos Rotulorum Pads in the counties of Antrim and Donegal. In
June, 1661, he took his seat in the first parliament after the restora-
tion, and was appointed governor of Carrickfergus. In 1666, a
variety of plots were carrying on through the three kingdoms by the
fanatics; and in Ireland they found minds predisposed to mutiny, both

* Lodge.

358 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

from temperament and from the very bad pay of the soldiery. Strong
indications of insubordination showed themselves in Carrickfergus,
which were soon quieted; but being too leniently put down, soothed
in place of being coerced, a second mutiny broke out the following
month, in which all the privates of four companies, who were quar-
tered there, rose in a body in defiance of their corporals, and seized
on the town and castle of Carrickfergus; and when the governor, the
earl of Donegal, endeavoured, by fair means and by offers of mercy,
to recall them to a sense of their duty, they answered most arrogantly,
and rejected the pardon which he volunteered. They framed a de-
claration, in which they endeavoured to incite other garrisons to fol-
low their example, and they had the audacity to enclose this to lord
Donegal along with a paper containing their demands. The duke of
Ormonde, on receiving the first intimation of this outbreak, sent his
son, the earl of Arran, with four companies of his guards, by sea to
Carrickfergus, with positive orders to the earl to make no farther
offers of mercy, as he considered it indispensable to the peace of the
kingdom to make some examples. Lord Arran had a stormy passage,
but arrived at Carrickfergus on the 27th of the month, and landed
without any opposition. He was immediately joined by the earl of
Donegal and the mayor of the town, who told him there was a party
within anxious to seize upon one of the gates, and admit him, if he
would make an attack upon the rebel garrison. The garrison, anxious
to gain time for plundering the town and securing the provisions,
sent to demand some hours for deliberation as to their future course;
but lord Arran having intimation of their intentions, caused a party
instantly to advance and demand admittance. This they obstinately
refused, and a brisk fire at once commenced, the town being well sup-
plied with men. Lord Arran quickly came up and forced an entrance,
with the loss of only two men, while many of the rebels fell, besides
their ringleader of the name of Dillon. Most of the officers belong-
ing to these companies had been absent on leave, but on their return
the garrison submitted, and hung out a white flag for the purpose of
obtaining a parley. They let down two of their men by ropes ; one of
whom offered to persuade his comrades to surrender without condi-
tions if his own life should be spared. Lord Arran rejected the base
proposal, and refused to accept of a surrender, unless on an absolute
submission to the lord-lieutenant's mercy, " to save or hang as many
of them as he pleased." They asked for a few hours to consider such
hard terms, which being granted, and at the same time any modifica-
tion of them denied, they delivered up the castle at the appointed
hour, which, besides being strong, was found to contain a month's pro-
visions for the garrison, had they continued to hold out.

On the arrival of the duke, he held a court-martial on 110 of the
offenders, nine of whom were executed.

The remaining years of lord Donegal's life passed in comparative
tranquillity; and in 1674 he married his daughter and ultimate heiress
to lord Gowran, son of the duke of Ormonde, who, however, from
early dissipation, quickly fell into a declining state of health, and died,
leaving no children. The eldest daughter of the earl had been married
in l6o-r» to John St Leger, and became mother to the first viscount

Doneraile. His children by his third wife all died in infancy, with
the exception of his daughter, Anne, countess of Gowran. The earl
died two months after his daughter's marriage, 1 674, at Belfast, and
was buried, according* to his own request, at Carrickfergus. He was
succeeded by his nephew, Sir Arthur Chichester.

A splendid monument was erected to his memory in Eggesford
church, where he is represented in alabaster as large as life, standing
between his first and second wives, who are represented in recumbent
postures. We subjoin the epitaphs of both ladies: —

ON THE FIRST.

Weep, reader, weep, and let thine eyes

With tears embalm the obsequies

Of her blest shrine ; who was in all

Her full dimensions so angelical

And really good, that virtue might repine

For want of stuff to make one more divine.

ON THE SECOND.

Lo ! here the mirror of her sex, whose praise
Asks not a garland, but a grove of hays;
Whose unexemplared virtue shined far
And near, the western wonder ! like some star
Of the first magnitude ; which though it lies
Here in eclipse, is only set to rise.

SIR ROBERT STEWART.

DIED ABOUT A. D. 1665.

The ancestors of the eminent soldier here to be noticed, and of the
Irish branch of the family of Stewart came into Ireland in the reign
of James I., and claim an ancient and illustrious origin from the family
of that monarch. We might thus travel far back into the antiquity of
Irish kings and heroes, the founders of the ancient monarchy of the Scot-
tish throne. Of these some notice niajr be found in our introduction. WTe
might also repeat with some effect the romance of Macbeth, and once
more call up the ghost of Banquo to sit in his vacant chair and shake
his " gory locks" for the entertainment of our readers. As the first of
the Stewarts is traced by the heralds to his grandson, Walter, the son
of Fleance, who on the murder cf his father by Macbeth, lied into
Wales, where he married Nesta, the daug-hter of Griffith ap Lle-
wellyn, king of North Wales. After the death of Macbeth, his son,
Walter, returned to Scotland, and was made lord high steward of
Scotland by king Malcolm III. From him descended in order several
representatives, bearing the name of Stewart to Robert Stewart or Stu-
art, who, in 1370, on the failure of issue male in the reigning family,
succeeded to the throne of Scotland, by which the crown was trans-
ferred back into the direct line of descent from king Duffus, in the
tenth century.

James Stewart, a son of Murdoch, second duke of Albany, on the
attainder of his father, fled into Ireland, where he married into the

360 TRANSITION— POLITICAL.

family of MacDonell, and settled in the county of Tyrone where he
died in 1449, leaving1 seven sons. From these descended several
branches of the Stewart family in this country. Of these the oldest
was created lord Avondale, to which title in the course of descent,
were added the titles of Ochiltree next, and then Castle-Stewart.

The branch of this family, of whom we are now more especially to
speak, is not traced to its root in the parent stem, with the distinct-
ness we could wish. But the connexion is undoubted and not remote.
We must here be contented to follow the example of most historians,
and all heralds, whose skill in tracing- out the cobweb lines of pedigree
is not more admirable than the sleight of hand, by which obscure dates
and lamentable chasms are shuffled out of view; so that the conceal-
ment of ignorance indicates a degree of skill not less useful than the
discovery of truth.

In the reign of James I., the Stewarts of Newtown-Stewart and
Culmore, in the county of Tyrone, were distinguished by their ability
and courage, of both of whom we shall here give an account.

Sir William was the elder brother, and an undertaker to a very
large extent in the county of Tyrone at the time of the plantation of
Ulster. There he made considerable improvements, and built several
castles and flourishing villages. He was knighted for his useful and
efficient conduct in the short rebellion of O'Doherty; and, in 1613,
represented the county of Donegal in parliament. By privy seal in
1423, he was created baronet.

When the rebellion of 1641 broke out, he received a commission to
raise one thousand foot, and a troop of horse, for the security of the
country. With this body of men he gave Sir Phelim O'Neile three
remarkable defeats. Near Strabane, as he was on the point of setting-
lire to the town of Raphoe; on the mountains of Barnesmore; and
lastly, a bloody and decisive rout, June 16th, 1642, which we have
noticed in our memoir of Sir Phelim, and in which the great army
which had been collected from all the northern counties, was put to
flight, with the loss of five hundred men. Sir William died some
time about 1 662, the latest date at which we can discover any historical
mention of him, or of his brother Robert, whom we are now to notice.

Robert Stewart was the second brother of the same family; and
was a gentleman of the privy chamber to James I. He received large
grants in the counties of Leitrim, Cavan, and Fermanagh. He was
made a colonel by king Charles; and, in 1638, was appointed to the
command of Culmore castle. He was in the following year returned
member of parliament for the city of Londonderry ; and in 1641,
obtained a commission to raise one thousand foot, and a troop, for the
king's service. He was made also governor of Derry, on the death of
Sir James Vaughan in 1643, and on the 3d June, in that year, obtained
a memorable victory over the rebel commander, the celebrated Owen
O'Neile. The particulars of this battle must be the trophy of the
victor, we shall therefore give a brief account of them here.

Owen O'Neile was on his march through the county of Monaghan,
with three thousand two hundred men, of which force one thousand
were immediately with him, the remainder were in attendance upon a
large collection of cattle and fugitives, which it was his intention to

SIR ROBERT STEWART. 361

escort into Leitrim and the bordering counties. Stewart, having ob-
tained intelligence of his approach, hastened to overtake him, and
after a very severe march, came up with him on the borders of Fer-
managh, at a place called Clonish. He had with him his own regi-
ment, and Sir William's, with some companies from Derry, and from
the regiments of Sir W. Balfour, and colonel Mervyn. When his
approach had been ascertained by O'Neile, he posted his main body
to the best advantage, in a strong pass, under a veteran officer of his
own name, and advanced with his cavalry to reconnoitre. Sir Robert
was about a mile from the enemy when he was apprized of these par-
ticulars : he ordered a halt that his men might breathe and take some
refreshment. After this, he marched on till he came in sight of the
rebels — they were drawn up behind a pass through a narrow stone
causeway which O'Neile had lined with musqueteers. Sir Robert
detached a strong party to force this position ; their approach was met
by O'Neile's cavalry, which came rushing over the causeway, and a
very smart encounter took place: but the Irish were at last driven
back — and their retreat pursued by Stewart's horse. For a moment
the advantage was doubtful ; the last horseman of the Irish had
scarcely passed over the causeway, when the pursuers were saluted
by a tremendous fusilade from the musqueteers within. The cavalry
retired, but it was to make way for the forlorn hope, who charged
impetuously in, and carried all before them — the whole of the English
cavalry were at their heels, and in a few moments again charging
the enemy's horse on the other side of the pass. For some minutes
now the battle raged with great fury and little method. Captain
Stewart, the leader of Sir Robert's troop, and probably either his
sou or his nephew, engaged hand to hand with Owen O'Neile: the
combat was interrupted — the combatants were too important to their
respective parties to be allowed to fight it out — the battle rested for
an instant on the result of a blow, when Stewart was charged on one
side, and wounded, while by a lateral shock his horse was borne to
the earth.

In the mean time, Shane O'Neile, whom his commander had posted
in the rear of the cavalry, in the strong pass already mentioned, saw how
matters were going on. He advanced with his twelve companies to
support the cavalry already beginning to break and give way. Sir
Robert saw this movement, and quitting the cavalry which he had
headed, he put himself at the head of his own regiment of foot and led
them on to charge the advancing infantry of his antagonist. They
were bravely received, and both parties rushing together with the ani-
mosity of the occasion and age, strove with a brave and sanguinary
desperation for a full half hour. At last, as the second regiment of the
English had made their way, and were ready to advance to the aid of
their companions, the Irish suddenly gave way and fled with such pre-
cipitation as to break the order of their own body of reserve, which was
coming up to their aid. All fled together, and the English horse exe-
cuted tremendous havoc on their flying companies as they ran. In
this battle the loss of Owen O'Neile was very great: numbers of his
best men were slain, and, what was far worse, most of his foreign offi-
cers were either killed or taken.

302 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

The loss of the English was but six killed, and twenty-two wounded ;
but Sir Robert Stewart was by no means in condition to take further
advantage of his victory. His supplies were spent, and he was obliged
to disperse his forces to their several stations, and return to London-
derry. O'Neile pursued his way to Charlemont: the people flocked
about his standard every mile of the way ; before he had reached Mobil,
his forces showed no sign of the slaughter of Clunies. They were, it
is true, unarmed; but the supreme council sent him arms aud ammu-
nition, and he soon took the Held as strong as ever.

We shall now pass on more glancingly through the rest of Stewart's
career. Most of the circumstances we shall have to relate in future
detail. In 1644, he was one among the colonels who agreed in a
resolution against taking the covenant which the parliament ordered
to be taken by the army.

In 1648, he was, by the vicissitudes of events, opposed to the par-
liamentary army in Ireland. And as he commanded the important
fort of Culmore, which was the key to Londonderry, he was an object
of much close watchfulness, and fell into a dexterously contrived snare
— which is indistinctly related by Lodge, who refers to Carte, but
must have found his half-told story somewhere else. Carte simply
mentions, that " Sir Charles Coote," (son of the person already com-
memorated in volume II.) " treacherously seized on Sir Robert Stew-
art's person, forced him to order his castle of Culmore to be delivered,
and then sent him a prisoner to London." Lodge mentions that he
was inveigled into Deny, to a baptism at a friend's house, and " insi
diously taken," and with colonel Mervyn, who was similarly taken, de-
livered to colonel Monk, who sent them to London, — adding that colonel
Monk, afterwards by some artifices, got possession of Culmore: — a
statement which may be as true as Carte's, but is not the same. Carte's
observation should not be here unrepeated: — " This treatment of so
gallant an officer, after a course of sufferings for so many years, and
of services greater than any other commander then in the kingdom
had performed, highly incensed the old Scots, and all the forces that
had used to serve under him."

When the war was ended by the success of the parliamentary forces,
and an act was passed for the settlement of Ireland, Stewart was
expressly excepted from pardon for life or estate. He lived neverthe-
less to see brighter days after a long and dreary interval of adversity.
The year 1660 brought with it the restoration; and the merit and suf-
fering's of Stewart were among those which escaped the oblivion of
the heartless and selfish Charles. He was appointed to the command
of a company, and soon after made governor of the city and county of
Derry.

From this we find no further mention worthy of note; and as he had
run a long course from the year 1 6 1 7, in which we find him recorded for
his faithful services to king James, to the restoration, we may presume,
that he had attained a good old age. From the Ordnance Survey of
Derry, we also find that in 1661, he was succeeded in his government
by colonel Gorges, appointed May 6th, 1661. It is therefore the high
probability that his death occurred in the same year.

ROBERT STEWART, OF IRRY. 383

ROBERT STEWART, OF IRRY.

DIED A. D. 1662.

In the previous notice it has been shown, that a branch of the Stew-
art family which bore in Scotland the titles of Avondale and Ochiltree,
had been advanced in Ireland to the title of baron Castlestevvart, of
the county of Tyrone.

Robert Stewart of Irry was brother to the fifth lord Castlestevvart,
and was highly distinguished among the numerous brave men whom
a stirring time has brought into historic notice. We do not think our-
selves quite warranted to bring forward a full detail of the various ex-
ploits belonging to other memoirs, in which he bore an honourable part.
He relieved Dungannon fort, and that of Mountjoy, when at the point
of surrender to the rebels ; and, attacking the besiegers with a very in-
ferior force, compelled them to decamp into the fastnesses of Slievegal-
len and Altadesert. He next maintained possession of the two forts of
Zoome and Antrim, of which he was governor, till the coming of
Cromwell, when resistance became useless and impossible. He died in
1662, leaving one son, in whom the line was continued under the fol-
lowing circumstances: — The fifth lord died unmarried, and the title
reverted to his uncle, who, having lived to a very old age, died without
issue, when the next claimant to the title was Andrew, the grandson of
Robert here noticed. He was at the time of his uncle's death but 12
years of age, and was removed to Scotland by his mother, during the
war of the revolution. To him the title devolved, but he did not (as
afterwards appeared) claim it, as the family estate had been " taken
away by the lady Suffolk."* For the same reason his son did not
think fit to claim a title to which they were quite aware of their right.
And so the matter slept till 1774, when a petition from Andrew Thomas
Stewart brought forward the claim, which was decided in his favour.

RICHARD BUTLER, THIRD VISCOUNT MOUNTGARRET.

BORN A. D. 1578. DIED A. D. 1651.

The third viscount Mountgarret, having married a daughter of Hugh,
earl of Tyrone, was early led into connexions, of which in those times
rebellion was almost the sure consequence. Lord Mountgarret was
an active adherent to his father-in-law, and took arms in his behalf,
at the early age of twenty-one. In the reign of Elizabeth, when Ire-
land had been but recently brought into even a comparative subjection,
and the authority of the crown was but imperfectly defined, rebellion
was yet looked upon with indulgence by the crown. The will of the
sovereign stood in place of the even and irrespective execution of law,

* Andrew, uncle to Robert of Irry, and third baron, having a daughter, his only
child, conveyed his estate to her husband, the earl of Suffolk Lodge and Burke.

3G4 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

and the award of policy or vindictive feeling was lenient or severe,
according to the circumstances of the case. Chiefs who had not laid
aside the pretensions of kings, and who had the power of maintaining
these pretensions to a troublesome extent, were looked on with indul-
gence: their gratitude conciliated, their turbulence overlooked, and
their outbreaks controlled and pardoned. Thus it was, that in the
latter end of the sixteenth century, great rebellions, which covered the
land with blood and fear, passed away without effecting those forfeit-
ures of life and land which so soon after became their certain conse-
quence. Much indeed, as the historian may feel at the passing away of
illustrious families of ancient time — his sense of expediency and iustice
must tell him, that the peace of society and the vindication of the law
by which order subsists, is more important still ; and in looking upon
the operation of a system of civilizing change, essential to the future,
but attended with immediate disadvantage to a few, he cannot without
an abandonment of every true social principle, wish it had been other-
wise. The institution of just and equal law, on the one only principle
upon which human caprice, the errors of uncertain policy, and the
fierce and constant working's of those latent springs of disorder by
which every class is pervaded can be controlled, must ever depend on the
certainty, that the law cannot be violated without the forfeiture of
those rights of which it is the security.

During the long life of the lord Mountgarret, the state of Ireland
was widely changed. The laws of England had been established to
the full extent that such a step was practicable. Their administration
necessarily subject to great abuses, was yet productive of vast ame-
lioration in the condition of the people. Had they been much sooner
enforced, the consequences must have fallen with lamentable severity
upon the aristocracy of the land, as their full operation must have
visited with extreme penalties a large class who had attained to im-
perfect notions of the difference between right and wrong. But from
the rebellion of Tyrone, the mind of the Irish aristocracy had rapidly
expanded, and the various letters and documents of the Irish nobles of
every class exhibit no deficiency in the constitutional knowledge of
the age. Ireland had made a step in advance, which does not seem
to have ever been thoroughly appreciated.

The rebellion of Tyrone did not, with all its bloodshed and wide-
spread devastation, materially alter the condition of men who for
their private ends had caused the death of thousands, and overwhelmed
the country with waste and famine. In 1599, we find the lord
Mountgarret a lord of the pale, defending the castles of Ballyragget
and Coleshill against the queen's forces, and in 1605 he receives the
special livery of his estates, as if he had been in the meantime a student
at the temple, or serving under Carew or Mountjoy. From this his
name is for some years lost in general history, but being a person of
active habits, he was probably making himself useful in preserving
order, and introducing improvement in his own immediate vicinity.
In the parliaments of 1613 and 1615, his conduct was prudent, and
attracted the approbation of king James. This seems confirmed by
the fact, that in 1619, he had in consideration of loval services, a con-

RICHARD BUTLER, THIRD VISCOUNT MOUNTGARRET. 36o

firmation of all his estates, with the creation of several manors, and
various lucrative and valuable privileges.*

On the commencement of the rebellion in 1641, he was joined in
commission with the earl of Ormonde, for the government of the
county of Kilkenny, and upon the earl's removal to Dublin, the county
was entirely committed to his charge.

A rumour had however been sedulously propagated, that the govern-
ment entertained designs hostile to the Roman catholic lords of the
pale. This inauspicious rumour was diffused by the agents of the
leading persons and parties, who were at the time engaged in matur-
ing the outbreak which so soon followed : it was loudly affirmed by
Moore and his associates, and much favoured by the suspicious con-
duct of the lords-justices. A concurrence of untoward circumstances
originated, and kept up a misunderstanding, which every word and
act on either side confirmed. The aristocracy of Munster and the
Roman catholic lords of the pale, equally fearful of the popular lead-
ers and distrustful of the government, beset with surrounding dangers
from revolutionary conspirators, a plundering and lawless populace,
and a circumventing and iniquitous administration, quickly perceived
that their safety must depend upon their strength ; it was quite appa-
rent that to sit at ease as indifferent spectators would not be permitted
by either party. Accordingly, these noblemen, early on the appear-
ance of rebellious indications, offered their services ; and among others,
lord Mountgarret offered to raise a thousand men, to arm them at
his own expense, and command them against the rebels. The offer
was not accepted; the lords-justices in their terror, ignorance, and in
the narrowness of their bigoted policy distrusted these noblemen,
and the consequence of their distrust was that they would neither
employ them against the common danger, nor allow them to protect
themselves, but acted towards them with an arbitrary and incon-
siderate exertion of authority, which conveyed insult, and seemed
to menace danger. Having first put arms into their hands for the
defence of their families and the pale, they next recalled those arms,
and summoned them to appear at the castle. These lords had power-
ful inducements to draw them into rebellion, and were strongly urged
to that perilous course by the nature of their connexions. Neverthe-
less, with the more than doubtful exception of lord Mayo, they had
kept apart from every overt manifestation of a disaffected character,
and strenuously asserted their adherence to the king and the govern-
ment, until it became too evident that the only proof they could give
of their loyalty was to stand unprotected between two hostile powers.
To be the first victims of rebellion, or be received on the doubtful
footing of distrust by a government, of which the previous conduct
had been such as to prove they were not themselves to be trusted.
To give effect to these circumstances, rumours were in active circula-
tion on both sides. Among those who were impressed with the
notion that it was the design of government to extirpate the Roman
catholics, lord Mountgarret was one; he has himself furnished an ex-
position of his own motives, we here extract it with some corroborative

* Lodtie. ir. p. 52.

306 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

statements from Archdall. The letter to the earl of Ormonde runs
thus: —

" My lord Since I have been forced in this general cause by

the example of some, as innocent and free from infringing of his
majesty's laws as myself, who have been used in the nature of traitors,
I forbore for avoiding your displeasure, to acquaint you with my
proceedings and other motives therein : but now, for fear of being
mistaken by the state concerning my loyalty, and presuming of your
lordship's favour and good meaning towards me, I make bold to send
you here enclosed, an exact remonstrance of those principal grievances
that have procured this general commotion in this kingdom ; where-
with I shall humbly desire your lordship to acquaint the lord justice
and council, to the end they may by a fair redress of them, prevent
the fearful calamities that doubtless shall ensue for want thereof. It
is not my case alone, it is the case of the whole kingdom ; and it hath
been a principal observation of the best historian, that a whole nation
how contemptible soever, should not be incensed by any prince or
state, how powerful soever, as to be driven to take desperate courses,
the event whereof is uncertain, and rests only in the all-guiding power
of the Omnipotent. This has been most lively represented by the
French chronicler, Philip de Comines, in the passage between the duke
of Burgundy and the Switzers. I will not press this matter further,
(a word is enough to the intelligent,) and I cannot harbour any thought
of vour lordship, but that you are sensible of the miseries of this king-
dom, whereof you are a native, and do wish the quiet and tranquillity
thereof: I do, for a further expression of my own sincerity in this cause,
send your lordship here enclosed my declaration and oath, joined with
others, which I conceive to be tolerable, and no way inclining to the
violation of his majesty's laws, whereof I am and always will be verj
observant, as becomes a loyal subject, and

" My lord,

" Your lordship's humble servant,

" MOUKTGARRET.

"25th March, 1642."

To this letter of lord Mountgarret's, we add ArchdalPs comment : — ■
" In confirmation hereof, it appears from the deposition of William
Parkinson of Castlecomer, Esq., that so little was his lordship's in-
clination to take up arms against his majesty, that Walter Butler of
Poolestown, Walter Bagenal of Dunleckney, and Robert Shee of Kil-
kenny, Esq., were the chief instruments that made him do so; and so
high was the insolence of those rebels grown, that the deponent had
read a petition of one Richard Archdeane, captain of the Irish town
of Kilkenny, and the alderman of the city, directed to the lord
Mountgarret and his council, desiring (among other things,) that
Philip Parcell of Ballyfoile, Esq., his lordship's son-in-law, might be
punished for relieving the protestants. Also, the titular bishop of
Cashel, Tirlogh Oge O'Neile, brother to the arch rebel Sir Phelim,
and the popish citizens of Kilkenny, petitioned the rest of the council
of Kilkenny, that all the English protestants there should be put to
death; whereunto Richard Lawless in excuse answered, that they were

all robbed before, and he saw no cause that they should lose their
lives; and at divers other times, where it was pressed that the Eng-
lish should be put to death, the lord Mountgarret with his son
Edmund, and his son-in-law Par cell, by their strength, means, and
persuasions, prevented it."

Having made this representation, which we believe truly to repre-
sent the case of the Roman catholic lords of the pale, Mountgarret
advanced with a large train of his connexions, and of the gentry of the
county, and seized on the city of Kilkenny, where he publicly declar-
ed the motives of his conduct. He then issued a public proclamation,
commanding his followers to respect the life and property of the Eng-
lish inhahitants. By his influence and personal vigilance, he gave
effect to this order, and prevented the commission of those crimes which
it must have demanded much authority and watchfulness to repress.

It is now quite apparent that though such a distinction could not
then have been noticed, and though it did not practically appear for
a long time after, that this rebellion was composed of two parties
distinct in their character, principles, and motives, though combined
by a common direction and common hostility to the Irish government.
The native chiefs and their immediate party, whose aim was as we
have fully explained to recover the lands and power of their ances-
tors, revenge injuries real or supposed, and root out the English
name, authority and religion : at the head of these was Sir Phelim
O'Neile. And secondly, the Roman catholic nobles, of whose motives
Mountgarret may be here offered as the representative. These
parties are not more distinguishable by their characters and declared
motives, than by their entire conduct. The party of Sir Phelim,
unconstrained by any principle but the passions which led or drove
them from crime to crime, were formidable for their butcheries of
the unarmed; their exploits in the field were few and doubtful, and a
few regular soldiers never failed to overmatch their utmost numbers.
On the other hand, the war assumed a military character under
the command of Mountgarret, Castlehaven, and other lords of their
party, presenting a formidable front, fighting desperate battles in
the field, and abstaining from butcheries and massacres, perfidious
stratagems and treasons under the pretext of every falsehood. So
determined was lord Mountgarret for the prevention of crime, that
finding it difficult to impress the people with any sense of respect for
property, he showed an effective example by shooting Mr Richard
Cantwell, a gentleman of great influence, and a friend of his own
family, when he saw him joining in plunder. Such in the beginning
is the traceable division in this long rebellion, which, as it pro-
ceeded through many desolating years, split into so many armed and
mutually hostile parties.

Having seized Kilkenny, lord Mountgarret sent out his parties to
secure other towns in the surrounding country; and in one week, he
was master of nearly all the towns of Kilkenny, Waterford, and Tip-
perary. Waterford submitted to his son Edmond Roe Butler; this
city had shut its gates a month before against the Wexford rebels;
Butler was received with willingness. No violence was here com-
mitted on life or goods, no one was disturbed; several protestants

expressed a desire to depart, and they were permitted to take their entire
property, without question. Call an and Gowran were at the same
time and as peaceably secured. Clonmel, Carrick, and Dungarvan,
were seized by Butler of Kilcash, second brother to the earl of
Ormonde, in a manner so orderly and free from violence or plunder,
as seemingly to deprive rebellion of its horrors. The impression
made by this unusual conduct upon the surrounding country, led in
one instance at least, to a dangerous confidence. Theobald Butler,
the baron of Ardmaile, seeing the facility with which places were to
be taken, privately assembled a large gang of his own people, and
proceeded to take possession of Fethard. Hacket, the sovereign of
the town, suspecting nothing, without any hesitation admitted him
with a few friends; he was seized in his own house, and the keys of
the town taken by Butler, who let in his undisciplined rabble to the
number of a thousand, with clubs, pikes, and skeans. There were
nine English in the town, these were seized and confined, and their
entire property collected and shut up in the castle. Happily, the
account of this transaction came to the ears of lord Dunboyne, who
the next day came and dispersed the rabble, and restored the English-
men to their freedom and property. They were then sent off to
Youghal, and other places at their own choice. Of these, two were
protestant clergymen, one Mr Hamilton, was sent to the countess
of Ormonde, by whom he was protected with his family; the other
(Mr Lowe, vicar of Cloyne,) made a less fortunate selection. He
made it his desire to be conducted to the house of a Mr Mockler,
who was his landlord, in the vicinity. He was under the delusive
expectation that the rebellion would presently pass away, and that
there was no occasion to remove far from home. He was kindly
received by Mr Mockler. Some little time after, Mockler had occa-
sion to go to Clonmel, and Lowe, for what reason is not known,
accompanied him to Fethard. On parting company, Mr Mockler
trusted him to the protection of a Mr Byffert, a person who was con-
sidered safe. At night, a carpenter of the name of MacHugh, with
some others, attacked him in his bed, murdered him, and carried him
out in the quilt to the bridge of Crompe, where they threw him into
the river. Mr Mockler and Mr Byffert had an active search for the
murderer, and MacHugh was soon caught and committed to prison.
He escaped, but thinking himself safe in the general license of the
time, returned and was again seized, on which he confessed the murder
and was executed.

From such enormities this part of the country was kept compara-
tively free, by the humanity and firmness of the noblemen who headed
the rebellion there. The Tipperary gentlemen and those of the sur-
rounding baronies, met in the beginning of January, to consult upon
the means of raising an army. It was agreed that every gentleman
should raise as many cavalry and as well equipped as they could;
that these levies were then to be formed into regular troops, and
their pay provided for. Lord Skerrin was chosen lieutenant-general,
and the command in chief offered to lord Mountgarret. He took the
command, drew together a large body of men, and marched into Tip-
perary, where a junction with lord Skerrin placed him at the head of

RICHARD BUTLER, THIRD VISCOUNT MOUNTGARRET. 369

nearly eight thousand men. To these, additional numbers were
added under different leaders from the county of Limerick.

Lord Mountgarret, at the head of this numerous but not well ap-
pointed force, held on his way towards the county of Cork. He sat
down on the way before the castle of Cnockordane, which quickly
surrendered on capitulation. It is a frightful feature of the historv
of this rebellion, that it is thought necessary by the historian to assure
us emphatically that the capitulation was "honourably observed."*

Having entered the county of Cork, he was observed hy Sir Wil-
liam St Leger, who did not think fit to attack him, but desired a con-
ference. This was a ruse de guerre. While Sir William kept the
rebel lord in conference, he contrived to have his arms and military
stores removed from Doneraile and other depots in the vicinity,
which would otherwise have fallen into the hands of the rebels. Lord
Mountgarret now appeared to have the whole country at his disposal,
. when an obstacle on which he had least calculated arose. Lord
Fermoy, whose influence in this county was as considerable as that
of Mountgarret in his own, refused to submit to his command, and
was supported by all the principal g-entry of the county. On this
lord Mountgarret turned and marched back to Kilkenny.

It was thought, and we cannot doubt it, that this incident gave a
turn to the rebellion. Had lord Mountgarret at the time pursued
his own success, there was nothing to resist him, he must have seized
on Munster with all its places of strength, and would have been in a con-
dition to follow up the same course all over Ireland, before the capri-
cious and grudging hand of government would or could have raised
any sufficient defence. The g'entry of Cork disagreed among them-
selves, and when the pretensions of Mountgarret were questioned,
other pretensions were discussed, and, before any thing could be
agreed, the efforts of St Leger, the Boyles, and the Barrys, began
to be effective in putting the country into a defensible state; their
raw levies were armed, disciplined, and inured to military hardships
and privations, and the time for a combined opposition passed away.

It was in this interval that the siege of Drogheda already related,
took place.

The next memorable incident of lord Mountgarret's history, is
the battle of Kilrush, within a few miles of Athy. He had taken a
position near the bridge of Mageny, when the English troops under
the command of the earl of Ormonde, were observed marching up at
some distance. Mountgarret had his unbroken army of something
above eight thousand men, commanded under him by lords Skerrin,
Dunboyne and others, and the ' advantage of a peculiarly strong posi-
tion. The movements of the English were such as to show that their
commander was fully aware of the advantages of his enemy. The
earl of Ormonde in fact had decided against the attack, but came to
the resolution of passing on towards Dublin ; he anticipated an effort
to intercept his march, and for this he made his dispositions. These
we shall relate further on. His troops had not marched far when
lord Mountgarret saw his advantage, and came to the resolution of

n- 2 a

* Carte.

Ir.

370 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

not throwing away the occasion for a decisive blow; three miles further
on there was a pass through which they must march, and there he
determined to meet them. For this purpose leaving the enemy on
the left, Mountgarret led his army round the bog of Killika, by which
the pass near Ballysovanan was approachable by a short cut, and not
being encumbered with baggage, it was his hope to secure the pass
before the earl of Ormonde could come up. In the mean time the
enemy was not idle, and a column of cavalry led by Sir T. Lucas,
came onward at a brisk pace. After a couple of miles hasty march-
ing, Mountgarret approached the pass, a low hill had for some time
shut out the view of the English troops, and he had not perceived
the progress they had made, his mortification was therefore great
when he found that Lucas had outmarched him ; the pass was seized,
and he was forced to halt. He had yet the advantage of a strong
position, and if his soldiers were to be trusted the enemy had nothing
to hope from an attack, they could at best escape.

But the earl of Ormonde had little notion of such an alternative,
his movements told of battle. He was drawing up his little army
and making the most masterly arrangements at the foot of the hill,
within two musket shots of Mountgarret and his people. It could
be seen that he was sending off his messengers, and disposing his com-
panies and his baggage in the places best adapted for their respective
characters.

Seeing all this Mountgarret drew up his men in two divisions,
rather with the design of maintaining his strong position, than of
attacking his enemy ; and while he was thus engaged, Sir C. Coote,
and Sir R. Grenville, came up with their companies, and Sir T.
Lucas took a position on the left of his position with the cavalry.
These had no sooner fallen into their places, than the earl of Ormonde
with his four companies came on to the charge at a rapid pace.
Their approach was for a few minutes retarded, and they were
thrown into some confusion, by an unexpected obstacle. When they
had cleared about half the distance between them and the Irish,
they came upon a hedge and a hollow way which obstructed
their advance. They were however suffered to retrieve their order
of attack, by moving round these impediments so as to form inside
the hedge. The fight now commenced with a distant firing, which
did no damage to either side. This had not lasted above half an
hour when a gap was found at some distance in the hedge, through
which Sir T. Lucas and Sir R. Grenville were enabled to lead the
cavalry, so as to charge Mountgarret on the left. The Irish did
not stand the charge, but turned and fled in great confusion towards
the bog which lay at the foot of the hill ; the cavalry which had been
posted to protect their flanks, stood for another charge led by Gren-
ville, on which they turned and joined their companions.

Mountgarret commanded in the right wing, which was composed
of his best men, and yet stood their ground. Against these lord
Ormonde led his troop of volunteers and three hundred foot com-
manded by Sir J. Sherlock; they fired several vollies as they came up
the hill, which were received with steadiness; but as they were on
the point of crossing their pikes, Mountgarret's best men turned

and fled over the hill for their lives, nor stopped to breathe till they
reached the bog where they found their comrades.

In this battle Mountgarret lost seven hundred men, and as they
were cut down chiefly in their flight, the loss on the other side was
but twenty. After such a defeat, it is probable that he retained no
great reliance on the efficiency of this unwieldy and undisciplined
mob, which could be beaten against all possible disadvantages by a
handful of soldiers.

He returned to Kilkenny, in the hope of effecting a more organized
as well as extensive resistance. He was there appointed president of
the supreme council organized in this year (1642), to methodize their
proceedings and supply the place of government to the country. Of
this we shall give a brief account in the next memoir, which may be
considered as the commencement of a new chapter of events.

He did not however allow the civil station which thus enlarged his
influence in a party, which at this time, as we shall hereafter show
more at large, was fast attaining weight both in counsel and arms,
to detain him from enterprise in the field. The insurrection had
assumed a more specious character both from the accession of intrinsic
advantages, and still more, from the occurrences of English history,
which must at the time have had considerable effect in confusing
the question of authority. When it became doubtful in whom was
vested the powers of the sword and balance, rebellion must have
assumed a fairer name, and lifted up a prouder front — another act of
this bloody tragedy was now to commence.

On the 18th of March, 1642, lord Mountgarret took his share in
the battle of Ross, between Preston and the earl of Ormonde. In the
following year his name occurs in the capture of Borras. He was also
with lord Castlehaven, and many other of the rebel lords, at the siege
of Ballynakil. This siege commenced in November 26th, 1641;
and is chiefly memorable for the extreme sufferings of the garrison
and inhabitants, who were left to their own miserable resources, and
held out with the most slender subsistence, and even without arms.
At their surrender, upwards of one hundred and fifty had perished
rather from want and disease, than the weapon of the foe. On this occa-
sion, as on every other, lord Mountgarret is to be distinguished not
less for his humanity, than for his attention to the relief of distressed
protestants. The offices of humanity were at the time rendered diffi-
cult, by the continual increase of angry and fanatic passions. He
did not long survive their termination. After his death, which hap-
pened in 1651, he was excepted from pardon by Cromwell's act for
the settlement of Ireland in 1 652. He was buried in St. Canice church
in Kilkenny.

PATRICK, NINTH LORD DUNSANY.

BORN A. D. 1588 — DIED A. D. 1668.

We have already mentioned the conduct of the Roman Catholic
noblemen of the pale, and the rash and unfair treatment by which they

372 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

were forced into rebellion. Among1 these, none other held a more
respectable place than the noble lord whose name precedes this article.
We however notice him here, not for any high prominence, either in
his individual character, or for his achievements in peace or war,
but as he merits commemoration for his humane and manly conduct
during a time, and under circumstances of unparalleled emergency and
distress. We also take the occasion wrhich a brief and summary notice
will afford, to insert a paper of his writing which may assist in eluci-
dating and authenticating to the reader's satisfaction, some observa-
tions we have made, and more we shall hereafter have occasion to
make on the conduct of the government in that period which must
occupy our attention through this volume.

The reader is already acquainted with the history of this ancient
family. The ninth lord Dunsany was born in 1588. He had not com-
pleted his ninth year, when, according to Lodge, his father died.
We do not, of course, profess to comprehend the rule by which Mr
Lodge has made the computation. But as he places the father's death
iu 1603, we should observe, that by the common method of reckoning,
the young lord must have attained his fifteenth year. His mother
was murdered on the 9th March, 1609. A female servant was exe-
cuted for the murder; but some time after, a man who was condemned
for some other felony, confessed himself to have been her murderer.

This lord Dunsany was present at the parliament in 1613. He was
rated at one hundred pounds to the subsidy granted to the king in
1615. In 1617, he surrendered his estates, and obtained a new title
by grant from the king, and a few years after obtained considerable
additions to his estate in the King's and Queen's counties, and in West-
meath, in consideration of lands surrendered to lord Lambert in the
north. His lordship bore an active part in the parliamentary pro-
ceedings of 1634.

We now approach the period in which he comes under historic notice.
On the breaking out of the rebellion of 1641, he promptly presented
himself before the lords-justices, and offered his assistance for the sup-
pression of the rebellion. The offer was not accepted. The lords-
justices commanded him to go home, as they at that time did every
other lord who was under the same circumstances, a Roman catholic,
or not of their own immediate party. Lord Dunsany returned home
for the protection of his family, and manned his castle — which soon
became the refuge of the hunted and persecuted protestants — and
even for the miserable and insufficient soldiery which was kept up
in the county of Meath. Having made Dunsany castle a place of
strength and security, he repaired with his family to his house at
Castlecor, which he also strengthened in like manner for a general
sanctuary for the persecuted and defenceless. While resident at this
place, many occurrences put his courage, firmness, and humanity to
the proof, and as they have been registered among the depositions of
witnesses on their oath in courts of justice, may be regarded as per-
manent testimonials of his worth. During the siege of Drogheda,
the Irish besiegers were highly discontented with the protection given
by his lordship to the persons and property of the English; so much
so that the people be^an to say that he kept a hornet's nest of Eng-

PATRICK, NINTH LORD DUNSANY. 373

lish about him. On one occasion, a gentleman of the name of Crant,
whose life appears to have been pursued with some inveteracy by his
enemies, had taken refuge under the shelter of Castlecor. The noble
lord was hardly pressed to give him up on various pretences, but
refused to trust the assurances of those who sought him. He assured
the most forward of these, that he would rather lose his own blood
than betray any gentleman who fled to him for refuge. And shortly
after, when it was necessary to remove the persecuted Crant from
Castlecor, his noble protector would not trust him to a guard, but
himself escorted him to Dunsany castle.

Notwithstanding this manly and beneficent conduct, lord Dunsany
presently became himself the object of a most cruel, oppressive, arbi-
trary, and unmerited severity. On the 20th February the king's pro-
clamation was landed, ordering the submission of the Irish lords and
gentry, and saving the privileges and immunities of those who should
within a given time come in. With this proclamation in his pocket,
lord Dunsany, who had in no way transgressed, and whose famiiy had
been uniformly among the foremost in adherence to the crown, amid
the troubles of every period, came to Dublin and offered himself before
the lords-justices; he asserted his innocence, his reputation for loyalty,
and the great hazards he had incurred thereby. The justices sent
him to prison, and ordered an indictment against him on a charge
of high treason; and, to render the case more secure, they ordered
that his trial should proceed in the inferior courts, which then admit-
ted of a greater variety of obscure resources, and were less within
the daylight of the public eye. The means of corrupting the ad-
ministration of justice were also various, and employed without mea-
sure or remorse by the official characters in the reigns of James and
Charles: of this we have offered one flagrant case, and might have
adduced enough to fill a volume, had such been our object. We here
insert lord Dunsany's petition to the parliament, as containing a clear
and authoritative account of these incidents of his life.

" To the right honourable the lords spiritual and temporal in
parliament assembled. The humble petition of Patrick,
lord baron of Duusany.
" Showing,

" That after the prorogation of the session of parliament, held in
Dublin in 1641, your suppliant repaired home expecting a commission
with others, to parley or treat with the northern Irish, then in rebel-
lion; but no commission issuing, and the rebels with great power and
strength ruining and overrunning the whole country, posted to this
city and addressed himself to the late lords-justices, informing them of
the condition of the country, and craved their advice and aid ; was, never-
theless, commanded home again, upon his allegiance, without any aid
or help, to defend himself the best he could ; upon which your suppli-
ant repaired to Dunsany and manned that house, which became the
only sanctuary for the distressed English and his majesty's army in
that part of Meath, which he yet had kept from the malice of the
enemy; and having so done he parted thence, and took his wife and
children with him unto his house at Castlecorre, adjoining to the

O'Renys' country, and there likewise manned and maintained said houso
against the rebels, until the beginning of March following, and in the
time of his abode there, did preserve both the lives and goods of a
great number of English protestants, their wives and children, and
from thence conducted them unto this city, to the great hazard of his
own life, as many of them now in this city will testify, and did openly,
in all the time of his residence in that country, protest against the re-
bellion and the movers thereof, dissuading many that would have gone
into action not to go, nor to adhere unto the actors, and being no
longer able to live there, about the time aforesaid, parted thence, and
sent his wife and family, with such of the English as staid with them,
unto Dunsany, by night, himself having taken another way unto this
city, to tender himself unto the then lords-justices, which he did the 8th
of the said month, voluntarily to satisfy them of the condition he lived
in, and to acquit himself of either having heart or hand in that action,
or in any sort adhering to the actors, by delivering the threatening
letters sent him by the rebels, that they would prosecute him as an
enemy, with fire and sword, if he would not assist them by sending
men and means to the siege of Drogheda; which, rather than he would
do, did hazard his life, in travelling by night out of all roads, there
being several ambushes laid for him; and for his loyalty, had his own
daughter, and his son's wife (being both great with child) stripped and
sent home naked ; and his said house at Castlecorre, after his parting,
with all his goods and furniture, to the value of four thousand pounds,
burned and destroyed. And although your suppliant did so voluntarily
tender himself, upon the assurance of his own innocency with a desire
to serve his majesty, was notwithstanding committed to prison, and
after indicted as a rebel, when as the king, out of his wonted clemency,
had published, in January before, under his royal hand and privy
signet, a proclamation of grace to all that would lay down arms, and
submit unto his mercy ; of which your suppliant at the worst was
most capable (of any,) in regard he was the first that tendered him-
self to his highness' service, and never took up arms against him, nor
offended any, but relieved all that came in his way; and, after endur-
ing eighteen months' imprisonment, his whole estate (except Dunsany)
being destroyed by the rebels, was, by order of his majesty, among
others, released, but was, though without order from his highness,
bound over unto the king's bench, it being no proper court for his
trial, and as yet standeth bound to appear there in Michaelmas term
next, and so will be perpetually bound over in that kind, unless this
honourable house takes some order for his relief. And for as much
as your suppliant, being a member of this house, to have suffered in
this kind, without your orders or privity, he conceiveth the same to
be a great breach of the privileges of the house.

" And therefore humbly imploreth your honourable aid, and favour
herein, by presenting his sufferings unto the lord-lieutenant general
of this kingdom, and in the mean time, to admit him his place and
vote in the house.

" And he will pray," &c.

The parliament was prorogued on the same day that this petition

LETITIA, BARONESS OPHALY. 375

was presented. And he obtained no redress till the restoration. A
provision was then inserted in the act of explanation, by which the
commissioners for the execution of that act were directed to restore
to his lordship his seat, and one third of the whole estate of which he
had been possessed on the 22d October, 1641.
This lord died in his 80th year, in 1668.

LETITIA, BARONESS OPHALY.

DIED A. D. 1658.

We have already in our notice of Sir Charles Coote, had occasion
to mention a remarkable instance of firmness and courage in the con-
duct of this illustrious Irishwoman. We did not then wish to digress
to a sufficient extent, to insert the whole correspondence which occur-
red between her ladyship and her besiegers. It is no less illustrative
of the time in which she lived than of her personal character, and
may be advantageously read by any one who desires thoroughly to
view the events and the social state of Ireland, in a period in some
respects unlike that in which we live.

This baroness was granddaughter to Gerald, eleventh earl of Kil-
dare, and only daughter of Gerard his eldest son, who died before his
father. She was created baroness Ophaly, and was heir general to
the house of Kildare, and inherited the barony of Geashill. She
married Sir Robert Digby of Coleshill, in the county of Warwick.
Sir Robert died in 1618, leaving the baroness a widow with seven
children.

With this family her ladyship lived in the castle of Geashill, in
honour and respect with her neighbours and dependants, and like
many noble and virtuous ladies who only require the occasion of cir-
cumstance to render them illustrious by the display of those high and
generous virtues with which the Creator has so liberally endowed the
gentler and purer sex, performing in contented privacy the duties of
mother to her children, and of a kind and considerate mistress of her
household and tenantry, until 1641, when the country fell into that
disordered state, in which goodness and gentleness could be no protec-
tion. But the daughter and heiress of the Geraldines was also the in-
heritress of the fearless spirit of her race, and when the rudeness of
that most degrading period suggested the hope of finding an easy
prey in the feebleness of an unprotected lady, her brutal assailants
met with a resistance worthy of commemoration in the record of
history.

Geashill had in earlier times belonged to the O'Dempsies; and we
find the name of four Dempsies among those who subscribed to the
summons which the baroness first received from the rebels. On this
occasion, Henry Dempsey, brother to the lord Clanmalier, with others
of the same family, opened their proceedings with the following
paper, of which the intent demands no explanation.

" We, his majesty's loyal subjects, at the present employed in his
highness's service, for the sacking of your castle, you are therefore to

376 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

deliver unto us the free possession of your said castle, promising faith-
fully that your ladyship, together with the rest within your said castle
resiant, shall have a reasonable composition ; otherwise, upon the non-
yielding of the castle, we do assure you that we will burn the whole
town, kill all the Protestants, and spare neither man, woman, nor
child, upon taking the castle by compulsion. Consider, madam, of
this our offer, impute not the blame of your own folly unto us. Think
not that here we brag. Your ladyship, upon submission, shall have
safe convoy to secure you from the hands of your enemies, and to lead
you whither you please. A speedy reply is desired with all expedi-
tion, and then we surcease.

"Henry Dempsie; Charles Dempsie; Andrew Fitz-Patrick; Conn
Dempsie: Phelim Dempsie; James MacDonnell; John Vickars."

To this summons, she returned this answer : — " I received your
letter, wherein you threaten to sack this my castle by his majesty's
authority. I have ever been a loyal subject, and a good neighbour
among you, and therefore cannot but wonder at such an assault. I
thank you for your offer of a convoy, wherein I hold little safety ; and
therefore my resolution is, that being free from offending his majesty,
or doing wrong to any of you, I will live and die innocently, I will do
the best to defend my own, leaving the issue to God ; and though I
have been, I still am desirous to avoid the shedding of Christian
blood, yet being provoked, your threats shall no whit dismay me."

" After two months," (writes Archdall) " the lord viscount Clan-
malier brought a great piece of ordnance (to the making of which,
as it was credibly reported, there went seven score pots and pans,
which was cast three times by an Irishman from Athboy, before they
brought it to that perfection, in which it was at Geashill), and sent
another summons to her ladyship in these words: —

" Noble Madam, It was never my intention to offer you any injury,
before you were pleased to begin with me, for it is well known, if I
were so disposed, you had not been by this time at Geashill ; so as I
find you are not sensible of the courtesies I have always expressed
unto you, since the beginning of this commotion; however, I did not
thirst for revenge, but out of my loving and wonted respects still
towards you, I am pleased and desirous to give you fair quarter, if
you please to accept thereof, both for yourself, children, and grand-
children, and likewise for your goods ; and I will undertake to send a
safe convoy with you and them either to Dublin, or to any other of
the next adjoining garrisons, either of which to be at your own elec-
tion; and if you be not pleased to accept of this offer, I hope you will
not impute the blame unto me, if you be not fairly dealt withal, for I
expect to have the command of your house before I stir from hence ;
and if you please to send any of your gentlemen of your house to me,
I am desirous to confer thereof at large. And so expecting youi
speedy answer, I rest your loving cousin,

" Lewis Geanmaieroe.

" P. S. Madam, there are other gentlemen now in this town, whose
names are hereunto subscribed, who do join and unite themselves iu
mine offer unto you,

LETITIA, BARONESS OPHALY. 377

" Lewis Glamnaleroe, Art O'Molloy, Henry Deinpsie, Edward
Connor, Charles Connor, Daniel Doyne, John Mac William."

To this letter, lady Ophaly sent the following answer: —

" My Lord, — I little expected such a salute from a kinsman, whom
I have ever respected, you being not ignorant of the great damages I
have received from your followers of Glenmaleroe, so as you can't but
know in your own conscience, that I am innocent of doing you any
injury, unless you count it an injury for my people to bring back a
small quantity of mine own goods where they found them, and with
them, some others of such men as have done me all the injury they
can devise, as may appear by their own letter. I was offered a con-
voy by those that formerly besieged me, I hope you have more honour
than to follow their example, by seeking her ruin that never wronged
you. However, I am still of the same mind, and can think no place
safer than my own house, wherein if I perish by your means, the guilt
will light on you, and I doubt not but I shall receive a crown of mar-
tyrdom dying innocently. God, I trust, will take a poor widow into
his protection from all those which without cause are risen up against
me,

" Your poor kinswoman,

" Lettice Ophaley.

" P. S. If the conference you desire do but concern the contents of
this letter, I think this answer will give you full satisfaction, and I
hope you will withdraw your hand, and show your power in more
noble actions."

After his lordship had received this answer, he discharged his
piece of ordnance against the castle, which at the first shot broke and
flew in pieces ; but his men continued with their muskets and other
arms to fire until the evening, when they took away the broken piece
of ordnance, and marched off in the night ; but before their departure,
his lordship sent the following letter thus directed: —

" To my noble cousin, the Lady Lettice, Baroness of Ophaley.

" Madam,

" I received your letter, and am still tender of your good and wel-
fare, though you give no credit thereunto ; and whereas, you do under-
stand by relation, that my piece of ordnance did not prosper, I believe
you will be sensible of the hazard and loss you are like to sustain
thereby, unless you will be better advised to accept the kind offer
which I mentioned in my letter unto you in the morning; if not,
expect no further favour at my hands, and so I rest your ladyship's
loving cousin,

" Lewis Glanmaeeroe."

To which my lady returned answer by one of her own men who
was kept prisoner.

" My Lord,

" Your second summons I have received, and should be glad to find
you tender of my good; for your piece of ordnance I never disputed

378 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

how it prospered, presuming you would rather make use of it for
your own defence or against enemies, than to try your strength
against a poor widow of your own blood ; but since you have bent it
against me, let the blood which shall be shed be required at their
hands that seek it; for my part, my conscience tells me that I am
innocent, and wishing you so too, I rest your cousin.

"Lettice Ophaley."

She was further menaced by Charles Dempsie, who wrote the fol
lowing letter, with a design of sending it to her that afternoon, but
being beaten out of the town, he was prevented, and it was found in
one of the houses.

" Madam,

" I do admire that a lady of your worth and honour as you con-
ceive yourself to be, should in so regardless a sort, instead of matters
of conscience in your letters, use frivolous and scandalous words, ex-
pressly nominating us your enemies Glanmaleroe Kearnes, and that,
in that letter written this very day unto Sir Luke Fitzgerald desiring
his assistance to the number of fifty men, which should quash and
cashier us here hence, he being your enemy no less than we, seclud-
ing kindred, not prophaneness of religion. Nay, your ladyship was
not formerly abashed to write to William Parsons, naming us in that
letter unto them, a mixt multitude. Remember yourself, madam,
consisting of more women and boys than men. All these letters
before your ladyship shortly shall be produced. Both the mes«
sengers we have intercepted, together with your letters, and do
detain them as yet prisoners, until such time as thereof we do certify
your ladyship, which at the present we thought to do expedient.
They are, therefore, censured to death, and this day is prefixed fol
their execution, your ladyship by your letters desires novelties. Hear
then, Chidley Coote (correspondently to the intent of your letters to
Parsons, coming to your aid), being intercepted in the way, was
deadly wounded, ten taken prisoners, his ensigns taken away. One
Alman Hamnetfs man, if he come safe with his message, (as I hope
he will not), will confirm this news. Had the character of these
letters of yours been either Lloyd's or Hamnett's, that politick en-
gineer and the adviser of quillets, (by him that bought me), no other
satisfaction should be taken but their heads ; though, as the case
stands, Hamnett lives in no small danger for manifold reasons.

" Charles Dempsie."

But notwithstanding all these menaces and attacks, she held out
with great spirit, until fetched off safe by Sir Richard Grenville, in
October, 1642, after which she retired to Coleshill.

-7-

RANDAL MACDONELL. 379

RANDAL MACDONELL, EARL OF ANTRIM.

BORN A. D. 1609 DIED A. D. 1682.

Of the ancestry of the Macdonells we have already had occasion to
take notice. The person we are now to commemorate is one of the
many whom fortune rather than any inherent merit has made eminent ,
more by the conspicuous display of the ordinary passions and weak-
nesses incidental to our nature, than by wisdom, courage or virtue.

He was educated in England, where he early recommended himself
at court by the specious attractions of person, manner, and imposing-
pretensions. These advantages were greatly improved by his marriage
with the widow of the celebrated George Villiers, duke of Bucking-
bam, by means of which he was enabled to appear with great splen-
dour at the English court, and was introduced to the favour of the
queen.

When the troubles in Scotland broke into war in 1639, this lord was
forward to offer his services, which were accepted by the king, who
was about to march into Scotland, against the covenanters with the
duke of Argyle at their head. The earl was in the habit of speaking
in lofty terms of the power and influence which he possessed in Ireland,
and proposed to levy a considerable force of Ulster men, and make a
descent on the Scottish Isles ; over which he presumed that his own
descent from the " lords of the Isles " gave him no small influence. He
was thus to effect a diversion, so as to occupy the attention of the
duke of Argyle on one quarter, while the king's army should make
their approaches on the other. He was sent into Ireland to make his
levies ; but whatever service might have been thus effected by a more
discreet and capable person, Antrim was utterly devoid of all the
essential qualifications. His very forwardness to embark in a great
design appears to have been but the effect of the want of all conception
of the real difficulties to be encountered, and like many sanguine and
shallow persons he was rather actuated by a blind self-confidence than
by any distinct conception of his design. His imposing language which
deceived the king, and it is probable himself, had little weight with the
penetrating and masterly intellect of Strafford, then the lord-lieutenant
of Ireland. Besides other objections, which we here omit, to his plan,
Strafford on conversing with the earl at once discerned his entire ig-
norance of military affairs, and his incapacity for any service that needed
forecast, prudence, discretion and experience in the conduct of affairs.
The earl had, he found, entered upon an extensive and hazardous under-
taking without any consideration of the means by which it was to be
effected, and strongly remonstrated against both the project and the
man. But Antrim's friends at court were all powerful at the time ;
the weighty influence of the queen was exerted for him, and the earl
of Strafford was strongly pressed by the king to forward the under-
taking. On this, every thing was put in train, and every assistance
was given to the earl of Antrim; the organization of his army was
projected and officers appointed, and emissaries were sent off to the Isles
to concert a rising with the Macdonalds. After all this pomp of pre-

380 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

paration, it was but too apparent that the earl had overrated his power
in the north ; he was only enabled to attend the king-'s expedition with
a force small in point of number, but fortunate in not being put to the
proof. The English and Scottish armies having come in sight of
each other, the king was prevented by his generals, who had no great
wish to fight for him, from offering battle ; and the reputation of An-
trim was allowed to continue untarnished for other trials.

After the treaty of peace (signed on this occasion), the earl accom-
panied the king to Oxford, and returning to Ireland sat in the parlia-
ment 1 640. After this he continued to live in Ireland, sustaining the
character for which he was by nature best fitted, by magnificent and
popular hospitality, until the growing troubles rose to a height in-
compatible with the peaceful pomps and vanities of life. His countess
was compelled to take refuge in England, and again filled a distinguish-
ed place in the favour of queen Henrietta and her court. The character
of the earl was assailed by the scandalous aspersion of having
joined with the rebels, but this malicious charge was repelled by the
strong testimony of Parsons, who was the witness of the harmlessness
of his deportment in Dublin. In the commencement of the rebellion,
his lordship is honourably to be distinguished for the humane and active
assistance he gave to the distressed protestants, whose condition was
then more deplorable than it afterwards came to be in the further
stage of the war. Nor can we trace his lordship in any overt pro-
ceeding of a political tendency, till the spring of 1642, when having
visited his property in the north, he was probably worked upon by the
enthusiasm of his own dependents to form high expectations from the
favour of the northerns. With the facile and prurient inflammability of a
warm fancy and over-weening self-confidence, he at once began to
reckon on the effects of his own authority and influence, by which he
hoped to convert a rebel multitude into a royal army devoted to the
interests of king Charles. In this expectation he was doomed to meet
with disappointment ; the rebels were pleased at the accession of a
name so well suited to give speciousness to their favourite pretence
of royal authority. But they saw easily through the ostentatious and
feeble spirit that tried in vain to assume an ascendant over their minds.
He was indeed too good for them, and too incapable either of going the
whole length in atrocity which they uniformly sought in their leaders,
and without which no one long continued to have any authority among
them; neither had he the craft necessary to temporize, or to suppress
his own temper and opinions. Disgusted with their cowardly mas-
sacres, which fell entirely on the unarmed and defenceless, upon whom
they wreaked vengeance for the severe and often too sweeping justice
of military judges ; he was loud in the expression of his horror, and
condemned their entire conduct, in a tone that plainly manifested an
entire unconsciousness of all their peculiar objects and passions. He
was prompt and liberal in relieving the distressed and hunted protes-
tants, and it was but too plain that however desirable the accession of
the rebel army might be to his lordship's private views, he was not ex
actly the person they wanted. An instance of his meritorious activity
in this character occurred during the time when Coleraine was besieg-
ed by the Irish army in 1641, when he prevailed with the Irish officers

RANDAL MACDONELL. 381

so far as to allow the people of the town to graze their cattle for three
miles round; and was permitted to send in large supplies of corn to
the starving inhabitants.

The earl failing to turn the rebels to his own purposes was not
induced to embrace their motives or adopt their cause. So far from
this, he raised a regiment of his own tenantry; but these plain proofs
of loyalty were not in these uncertain times sufficient to protect him
from becoming the object of suspicion. Monroe having entered the
county of Antrim, considered the reports which had circulated of his
commerce with the rebels and the fact of his being a papist, sufficient
excuse to commit an outrage upon him not unworthy of Sir Phelim
O'Neile.

Dunluce castle was the stronghold and residence of the ancient family
of M'Quillan, the ancient chiefs of that district, and it was as leader
of a Scottish army that the ancestor of the earl of Antrim had expelled
these ancient proprietors, and obtained possession of their rock and do-
main. Here the earl was residing when he received a visit of seeming
compliment from Monroe, the general of the Scottish force in Ulster.
Monroe was welcomed with all the frank hospitality, and entertained
with all the splendour of his generous but unobservant host. The en-
tertainment was not well over when the signal was given, and the
astonished earl seized and hurried off a prisoner, while the castle
*nd domain were plundered by his cold-minded and plotting captor.

He was so fortunate as to escape from Monroe and fled into England,
where he waited on the queen at York. It was at the time when the
king's friends were labouring to procure a cessation of arms in Ireland;
Antrim was, as was natural to him, soon led to put forward his notions
of his own efficiency to promote this design, and was presently sent
into Ireland with instructions ; but he was taken on his landing- and
imprisoned by Monroe in Carrickfergus, where he lay for some months,
his enemy all the time drawing his rents and remaining master of his
whole possessions, without the slightest heed of the king's letters to
command restoration. Once more the earl succeeded in escaping from
his enemy and reached Oxford again, December, 1643.

It happened then, as is known to the reader, that the marquess of
Montrose was endeavouring to raise an army to create a diversion in
Scotland, so as to draw back the army which had marched into England,
and was at the time in treaty with the parliament. Antrim was con-
sulted, and engaged "that if the king would grant him a commission,
he would raise an army in Ireland, and transport it to Scotland, and
would himself be at the head of it ; by means whereof, he believed all
the clan of the Macdonells in the Highlands might be persuaded to
follow him."* To this a ready consent was given, and the king by privy
seal created him marquess of Antrim, 26th January, 1644.

The marquess with his characteristic disregard of circumstances,
adopted the means which must be admitted to offer some specious ad-
vantages for his purpose. His conduct was in principle the same
which had on the previous occasion, already mentioned, involved him
in the proceedings of the rebels; but circumstances had widelv

* Lodge.

382 TKANSITION.— POLITICAL.

changed, and the confederates of Kilkenny might well be assumed to
be sincere in their allegiance against a common enemy. Rebellion
had changed sides : a confusion of parties had now arisen which ad-
mitted of the utmost latitude of construction, and it must have
appeared to the marquess a happy expedient to take the oath of
association and become a member of the supreme council of Kil-
kenny. The device had the common justification of such measures,
and it was successful. By the favour of the council he was enabled
to raise 1500 effective men, whom he sent to Montrose under the
command of colonel Alexander Macdonell ; and who distinguished
themselves very highly in all his battles.

The next appearance of the marquess is in 1647, when he was with
two others sent by the council of Kilkenny to the queen and prince
Charles, to desire that a lord-lieutenant might be sent to govern the
country. The marquess of Ormonde landed soon after and concluded
a treaty of peace, but Rinuncini being, as the reader is aware, pertin-
aciously opposed to peace ; he was joined by O'Neile and the marquess
of Antrim.

In 1 65 1 he appears engaged in Cromwell's party and in his pay ; he
is mentioned at this time to have received £500 a-year from him,
which was afterwards, in 1655, increased. This liberal allowance ap-
pears to have been for no other purpose but for the use of his influence
in the north, and for the countenance of a name. His active services
were not required, and he took no decided part on the parliamentary
side: his own motive was probably no more than to save himself by a
passive acquiescence ; while, considering the party with whom he had
to deal and the weakness of his own character, it is equally to be pre-
sumed that he was as useful as was in any way desired to Cromwell.
This connexion did not prevent his using his best exertions to serve
the royal cause. When the prince came into England he supplied him
with arms and ammunition, and after the battle of Worcester assisted
in procuring ships for his escape.

On account of these services, he afterwards obtained the restoration
to his estates by the act of settlement. He was twice married, but had
no children, and when he died in 1682, he was succeeded by his
brother.

As we are now to enter upon the events which lead to, or are con-
temporary with the revolution of 1688, we shall in this, as in the memoirs
which immediately follow, endeavour to pursue, as nearly as possible,
the onward progress of events; and to avoid needless repetition, we
shall, whenever it may be necessary to retrace our steps, recur to in-
cidents already commemorated, as briefly as can be made consistent
with clearness. It may be convenient to the reader to be apprised
that in this and the memoirs immediately following, we mean to dwell
at some length upon the incidents principally leading to the revolution.
The remainder of this period, though replete with event, is little
marked by illustrious characters; and our subjects are selected, more

A. FORBES, EARL OF GRANARD. 383

with a view to the relation of the momentous and interesting train of
incidents which constitute a marked era in the history of England
and Ireland, than for any claim which the persons whose names must
head these memoirs have upon our pen.

A. FORBES, EARL OF GRANARD.

BORN A. D. 1623 — DIED A. D. 1695.

The family of Forbes seems to be of Scottish descent: and like
most others, is territorial, being derived from For-bois (the outer wood),
the ancient form of the name, and of that of the lands near Aberdeen
granted by Alexander the Second, where they long resided.

In 1622, a younger branch of this family, Sir Arthur Forbes de-
scended from Patrick Forbes of Carte, was with two other gentlemen
of the same name (who were perhaps his brothers,) naturalized in
Ireland, and received grants from James L, in the counties of Long-
ford and Leitrim. ,

This person married a lady of the family and name of Lowther, and
had issue, Arthur, the subject of this notice. He was in his eighteenth
year at the rebellion of 1641, and could not therefore be much more than
an anxious witness, or at most, a very subordinate actor at that fear-
ful time, when he had not long entered the military service as an offi-
cer of cavalry. His mother was besieged for several days in Castle-
Forbes, the residence of the family, and the siege is memorable for the
valour and firm endurance which was shown in it, as also for the bru-
talities committed by the besiegers. The tenants of the estate, with
those of lady Longford and Sir John Seaton, having been plundered and
burnt out of their houses by the rebel party, crowded into Castle-For-
bes for protection. Thither their persecutors quickly followed, to the
amount of five hundred; and, relying on their own numbers, com-
menced a regular siege. They built themselves huts within musquet-
shot of the walls, seized on the stock, and made several desperate as-
saults, in all of which they were valiantly repulsed. But not discouraged
by these, they made a nearer approach, building within pistol shot and
making trenches close under the walls, which they were thus enabled to
annoy with a perpetual and harassing fire, by which many of the people
within were shot through the windows. After some time they obtained
possession of the well, from which the besieged obtained their supply
of water, and contrived by a horrible expedient to render it useless : seiz-
ing a Scotchman, whom they caught in an attempt to enter the castle,
they ripped open his belly and threw him into this well. The suffer-
ings of the people and family within soon became unendurable for want
of water, until they found a remedy for their distress by digging thirty
feet into the ground within the bawn, and thus obtained a supply when
nearly reduced to extremity. In this distressing condition matters
went on until all the provision was consumed; and the lady Forbes
gave her horses, which did not last very long; and the cow-hides were
next attacked by the famishing, but brave and patient crowd, who bore

384 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

every privation and peril without murmuring. Lady Forbes, with lady
Seaton, who had also taken shelter in the castle, wrote letters to
the besiegers to entreat permission for some of the poor people that
were within to go out and eat grass and herbs; they were answered,
that " they would keep them in till the ravens did eat their guts."
It was idly fancied by some of the poor people who had taken refuge
within the walls, that their children might be permitted to go out
unmolested to feed on the grass abroad, and under this delusion, two
children were sent out. But the mistake was quickly ended, the chil-
dren, eager for food and ignorant of the danger they incurred, went
out without fear, and perhaps happy to feel themselves free; they had
not proceeded many steps when they were fired upon by the reckless
desperadoes, whose concealment they approached: one fell dead, the
other was wounded. Immediately after, a poor woman, whose hus-
band had fallen into their hands, went out with the devoted courage
of her sex to beg his life — she had three children, of whom the
youngest was at the breast — the mother and her sucking child were
slain, with one of the elder children, but the other escaped. At last,
after much negotiation, lady Forbes obtained terms. The rebels were
so anxious to ^obtain possession that they were glad to obtain it at the
expense of their revenge, though upwards of eighty of them had been
shot from the castle walls during the siege. They permitted lady
Forbes, with two hundred and twenty persons to march out with their
wearing apparel and arms to Trim, which town they reached in safety,
but after great hardships by the way ; and from thence they escaped to
Dublin.*

During the commonwealth, Sir Arthur Forbes adhered to the royal
cause, and served in Scotland against the parliamentary troops, when
they were commanded by Monk, from whom the royalists sustained a
defeat, and were soon reduced. On this he returned to Ireland, where
he was permitted, in accordance with the articles to that effect, be-
tween Monk and lord Lome, to enjoy his estate if not disposed of.
And as it appeared that he was quite unconnected with the rebellion
in Ireland, his lands in the counties of Longford and Leitrim were re-
stored.

When the Restoration was beginning to occupy the expectations of
the country, Sir Arthur was sent by Coote to king Charles to invite
him into Ireland. He was received with the utmost kindness as a
known supporter, and dismissed with such commissions for the Irish
loyalists as he had been directed to demand in case of the king's re-
fusal to come in person.

His subsequent commissions during the long interval of broken rest,
in which it was vainly endeavoured to restore the nation by settle-
ments and commissions, we must here be content to enumerate from
Lodge. After the restoration, he was appointed among the commis-
sioners of the court of claims for the execution of the king's declara-
tion, which appointment was repeated 1662. In 1661 he was returned
to parliament for Mullingar. In 1663, when a conspiracy was formed
for the seizure of Dublin, and several other towns, as already related

* Arclidall.

A. FORBES, EARL OF GRANARD. 385

in this volume,* Sir Arthur discovered, and by his great alertness and
vigilance frustrated the intentions of the conspirators in the north,
having seized and imprisoned Staples member for Derry, who was the
leading conspirator; upon which the soldiers returned to their duty,
and the remaining conspirators took refuge in Scotland. In 1670,
Sir Arthur was sworn of the privy council, and appointed marshall of
the army: he was allowed £687 8s. 4d. per annum pay, and a retinue
of one trumpeter and thirty horsemen; in addition he was allowed
£600 per annum secret-service money. In 1671, and again in 1675,
he was appointed to the then high dignity of one of the lords-justices
of Ireland; and in the last-mentioned year, he was created baron Clane-
hugh and viscount Granard.f

After many services and honours, unnecessary to mention here, he
was in 1684 raised in the peerage to the dignity of earl of Granard,
and lieutenant-general in the army. In which post king James II.
allowed him to continue ; but difficulties soon arose in the execution
of his duties as one of the lords-justices, which caused him to apply
for his dismissal.

In our memoir of the duke of Ormonde we have already had occasion
to notice the circumstances which indicate the secret course of the policy
of king Charles and his brother, afterwards James II. The brothers
were both Roman catholics — Charles in secret, James without reserve:
the former was in truth of no religion; but the latter was not only
sincere but bigoted in his faith, and a zealot to the church of his adop-
tion. Charles, though indolent, averse from business, and still more
so from the clash of creeds and parties, easily comprehended the
impossibility of reconciling the English people to a popish king, and
during his reign kept up a decorous reserve by the help of the natural
indifference and insincerity of his nature. He shrunk from the conflict
to which the duke of York and his priests were constantly endeavouring
to urge him; and while he lived, though it is now easy to discern the
early course of the political events which afterwards hurled his
family from the throne, yet in point of fact the contest was not begun,
nor is there any cause to predicate that he was likely to be seriously
disturbed in his profligate and licentious reign, unless it be considered
that as he grew older and more indolent, other counsels of a more de-
termined character were beginning to assert their sway, and the duke
of York, more zealous and active, though far less prudent, had actu-
ally commenced his career. Ireland was not without reason considered
to be the safest ground to begin upon, and long before the period at
which we are now arrived, lord Berkeley had been sent thither for
the express purpose of preparing the way for the duke's objects, by
the depression of the protestants and the gradual substitution of
the papists, both in the army and in every post of power, influence,
or emolument, in which it could be safely effected. Such changes were
all through the chief means of operation resorted to, with a few bold
attempts to effect a revolution of property, which, had they been suc-
cessful, would have led by a shorter and safer path to the desired
result.

• Life of the Duke of Ormonde. | Lodge.

Il- 2 b Ir.

386 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

The conduct of Berkeley was impelled by his secretary Leighton, a
creature of Buckingham's, who was sent over for the purpose of watch-
ing over and directing his administration; he was also attended by
many influential papists from England, who were the judges, council-
lors, and spies of his actions : he was himself fully disposed for the
prescribed course, and his measures were bold and decided, without
scruple, or even a prudent regard to caution. Not content with
favouring the church of Rome, he selected the extreme party of that
church as the objects of his especial favour.

Among the clergy as well as the laity of the Romish communion
in Ireland, there was at this time a division of opinion on the im-
portant question as to the authority of the pope in the secular affairs
of the kingdom. One party acknowledged the king to be the
supreme lord of the kingdom of Ireland; and declared or admitted
that they were bound to obey him notwithstanding any sentence of
the Roman see to the contrary. In conformity with this profession,
a declaration was drawn up by Peter Walsh, a Franciscan, and
signed by one bishop and several clergy of the Romish communion.
Walsh, who was commissioned by the ecclesiastics of this party
to express their sentiments to the king, drew up this declaration,
which became famous under the title of the " Irish remonstrance ;"
it gave rise to the designations of both parties which were called
remonstrants and anti-remonstrants, and was strongly framed to ob-
viate the great and permanent objection to the toleration of popery
as inconsistent with the constitution of a protestant government: it
disclaimed all " foreign power, papal or princely, spiritual or tempo-
ral, inasmuch as it may seem able, or shall pretend to free them from
this obligation, or permit them to offer any violence to his majesty's
person or government." In addition to this, it expressed the resolu-
tion of the remonstrants to resist and discover all conspiracies against
the king, and went indeed to as full a length in support of the divine
and indefeasible right as might have conciliated the favour of James I.

But the grandchildren of this monarch, who were not less tenacious
of that slavish principle, had a still more anxious object at heart, and
were little likely to countenance any declaration which might appear
inimical to the authority of the see of Rome. The duke of York felt
that neither himself nor his royal brother had any concern in the alle-
giance which might be considered due to protestant princes. On the
contrary, their present object demanded the opposite impression, to be
industriously diffused ; all their difficulties and all the unpopularity
with which tbey had to struggle, were mainly owing to the ascendancy
of protestant opinion and influence. They were therefore little likely
to acquiesce in a declaration which they regarded more as a tribute
to their enemies the protestants than to themselves. They were also
well aware, and the suggestion is worth the reader's notice, that the
rights of kings and the actual power of the crown were more in danger
from the free opinions of protestantism, than from any interference on
the part of Rome. Such appears to us to be a clear and self-evident
explanation of the treatment of the remonstrants, and of the novel part
taken in this contest by the English court. Under the name and ex-
ternal forms of protestantism, a popish monarch sat upon the throne,

and an heir presumptive of the same communion saw the prospects of
his succession altogether dependent upon the success of his efforts in
behalf of his church.

Strong counter declarations were soon got up, and a violent con-
tention between the parties ensued. The duke of Ormonde, who ap-
proved of the remonstrance, had no objection to the promotion of a con-
troversy, which served to divide and divert the spirit of the Romish
church. But the scene was changed by the arrival of lord Berkeley,
who not only took part with the anti-remonstrants, but made the vice-
regal power subservient to their passions, by persecuting their op-
ponents. Peter Talbot, Romish archbishop of Dublin, taking advan-
tage of the disposition of the castle, obtained possession of the vice-
regal ear, and persuaded Berkeley that he had unlimited power in Ire-
land, and that all the desig-ns of the court factions would be effected
without difficulty by the aid of himself and his party. He was not
only permitted to celebrate a mass in Dublin, but accommodated with
the plate of the castle by secretary Leigh ton. The remonstrants were
quickly taught to feel the strength thus acquired by their adversaries,
and vainly petitioned for protection. Their petition was intrusted to
the duke of Ormonde, and by the interference of this great man, the
lord Berkeley was instructed to protect them ; but it is also probable
that he received a private intimation which led him to disregard the
injunction; for, exclaiming against the interference of Ormonde, he
said that he should in future regard all instructions in favour of the
remonstrants as coming from him, and pass it by without any notice.

Among the most evident indications of the purposes of the king's
or rather the duke's party, were two which we shall find uniformly
and consistently followed throughout — the granting of magisterial com-
missions to the papists, and their admission into the corporations: two
steps, at that period, as directly subversive of the English interest in
Ireland, as it is possible to conceive. It may at first sight appear
difficult to some of our readers to see why, as forming" a large portion
of the people of this island, they should be debarred from offices which
seem merely to imply an equality of civil rights. We must make a
few observations on this important topic. In the abstract, unquestion-
ably such exclusions are unjust: nor can any country in which they
exist be considered as advanced to a high state of constitutional per-
fection. Such exclusions will, however, seldom be found to maintain
their existence long, unless when they are rendered indispensable by
the civil state of the country. And such was then the case of Ireland.
This will be easily admitted by any impartial person who will recall
the object of perpetual contention in this country, that it was not the
civil equalization of parties but the restoration of an imaginary ancient
state of things, of which the direct and immediate consequence must
have been the utter prostration of the English, who were in point of
fact the nucleus of civilization in Ireland. It was not equalization, but
ascendancy, that was looked for, by a party in whose hands ascendancy
must have become the establishment of a most degrading tyranny at
home, together with the admission of a foreign jurisdiction. For the
exclusion of the papists from civil equality, it was enough that they
were actually under the unconstitutional, slavish, and arbitrary juris-

diction of Irish leaders, and of their priests — of which the first sought
to wield the democracy for their own ends, and the second for the
ends of the see of Rome. No power should be suffered to command
the populace in opposition to the constitution without strong" checks,
even in a republican state ; but in a growing country it was evident
ruin to depress the thriving, wealthy, and informed classes under any
pretext. In these observations the reader must perceive that we have
confined ourselves to reasons purely political : the reasons here noticed
are only those by which the more respectable portion of the papists
were then influenced; for their cause was one with that of the Irish
protestants — property law, and civilization, against disorderly and de-
structive cupidity, armed with the brute force of the (then) ignorant
and demoralized multitude. It was not then, as is sometimes misappre-
hended, to exclude the members of the Romish faith from any fair
privilege that they were excluded from certain civil rights: it was
the consequence of their admission that was seen and guarded against.
But we shall have to recur to this topic a little farther on.

The demolition of these just barriers against foreign and popular
encroachment, was, as we have observed, a sure and unequivocal sign
of a conspiracy against the constitution as it then stood, and the
indications thus discoverable demand the more to be distinctly ob-
served, because the whole task of the historian from the commence-
ment, will be mainly to trace the progress of their effects, as they brought
on the subversion of that ancient and corrupt system of arbitrary go-
vernment, of which it was attempted to use them as a last support.
The main cause of these effects, is, it is true, to be sought in the his-
tory of England, as this country was but the scene of a preliminary trial
of strength and preparation ; here the battle commenced and ended.
In our next memoir we shall take a brief and summary view of its
progress in England. These few remarks, which we shall presently
have occasion to illustrate and extend, may serve sufficiently to put
the reader in the possession of the leading characters of the policy
which commenced the contest, and to explain the conduct of the
eminent person of whom we now write.

In the year 1685, Forbes was, as we have already mentioned, joined
with primate Boyle in the office of lord-justice. The time was one of
extreme perplexity, as the designs, which we have been describing,
were far advanced. The party which it was the policy of James, now
seated on the throne, to depress, was grown discontented, alarmed, and
suspicious; that to which they had been sacrificed, insolent, exacting,
and exorbitant in its pretensions, and pressing forward to have all its
objects carried with a high hand. Boyle and Granard were un-
animous in their zeal for the maintenance of the English interest,
though there were in their opinions sufficient differences to have held
them asunder in ordinary times: while Boyle was zealous in the
support of that church in which he was a ruler, Granard was the great
patron of those shades of protestantism which dissented or maintained
a worship and discipline separate from the established church of
England ; he had obtained five hundred pounds a-year from govern-
ment for the presbyterian teachers in the north, and married a lady of
presbyterian opinions. On that account he was at first the object of

A. FORBES, EARL OF GRANARD. 389

strong suspicion to his reverend colleague, who was not perhaps wrong
in the supposition that he was selected by the government to counter-
act any leaning on his own part to the church, and to divide the pro-
testant interest. If such was the design of the English Council, it un-
doubtedly added one more to the long and tortuous tissue of errors in
which it was involved. Ignorant of the true nature and operation of
the dissent subsisting in the protestant churches of Ireland, it was not
aware. that the central principles of a common faith must, in the mo-
ment of extreme danger, combine the protestants of all denominations,
which are united by those principles, for their common protection.
And so it was at this time found: Granard, whatever may have been his
private views, united sincerely with Boyle. They acted, nevertheless,
with exemplary caution and moderation, as well as firmness. Receiving
from the fears or designs of either party daily information and reports,
equally unfounded, they dismissed them all, and were tempted or
terrified by no imaginary inducement or fear from holding a calm and
steady rein on both. In their determination to maintain the protestant
interest, nothing in fact was more necessary than to ward off those gross
and palpable injustices which the fear or zeal of the crowd will always
be ready to exact. The earl was at last, however, compelled to give
way to a power which was not to be repressed by any consideration
short of its main object. He was pressed by his council, who were
mere instruments of the English court, to authorise Roman catholics
to commit any person without bail: he requested to be dismissed. The
government was reluctant to take such a step, as his influence among the
presbyterians was very great, and his appointment was considered to be
a restraint upon himself also. The king therefore wrote him a letter to
assure him that he would not do any thing injurious to the protestant
interest. Nevertheless it immediately appeared so very visible that
this assurance was thoroughly false, and had no view but the deception
of the earl, that he soon found himself forced to act with the most
decided firmness, to prevent himself from being made instrumental
against the protestants ; and entering with decision into their interests,
he was dismissed in 1685 from his post of chairman to the council.

The remaining history of his life must be here briefly dismissed : as
it contains nothing of sufficient importance to draw us into an extensive
anticipation of the train of events into which we are presently to enter.

In 1690, the earl was sworn of the privy council to William III.,
and, in the following year, distinguished himself before Sligo, by the
prudent dexterity which caused the garrison to surrender to the forces
under his command and those of colonel Mitchelbourne. In the
following year he took his seat in parliament, and was one of the com-
mittee appointed by the peers to present their address of thanks to
the king.

He built a church at Castle Forbes, and promoted the linen trade
there.

He died " in or about" 1695, and was buried at Castle Forbes.

390 TRANSITION— POLITICAL.

RICHARD TALBOT, EARL OF TYRCONNEL.

died 1691.

The life of Richard Talbot is an essential portion of the history of
his period, and, though apart from this consideration he would possess
but feeble claims on the pen of the biographer, yet the history of his
career may serve to afford a strong illustration of the effect of revolu-
tionary periods, in raising the obscure to rank, fame, and public im-
portance, without any aid from the possession of great talents or
virtues. When wisdom and virtue are elevated to station and command
by the dispositions of that power which overrules the tide of events,
by the emergency which often sets aside for an instant the ordinary
agencies of society, or by the accidents of wealth and exalted rank,
they will undoubtedly win the homage which is their righteous meed:
partly because the world is always ready to bow down before success,
however won; and partly because men are more just in their judgments
than pure in their actuating motives. The avowed conventions of
society are in favour of goodness,— every popular vice must wear
an honourable mask, and when bad men receive the praises of the
multitude, it is not for the vices by which they are earned. But, after
all that can be said, the fame of true wisdom and genuine goodness is
rather a conquest over, than a consequence from, the moral influences
actually operating on the world; it is an extorted concession hardly
wrung, and, as in the case of the duke of Ormonde, too often followed
by a long and lasting wake of detraction : while, on the other hand,
base servility, whether to the humours of the people, the will of the
despot of the hour, or the prejudices of the age, will rise wafted by all the
influences which are at work in the ferment of human corruption : and
will have a royal road of greatness, or, at least, notoriety. Between
the two conditions we have thus contrasted, there is all the difference
between stemming the tide, or floating with it. And there is another
moral lesson which the same contrast is adapted to convey, whether it
is sought in experience or the page of history: that true greatness of
character will most frequently be found standing equally apart from
the blind and fierce impulses of public opinion, and from the profligate
venality of courts. In each of these extremes, there is a perpetual
effort of usurpation, and an equal ignorance of the real rights of
man, as well as a most strange unconsciousness of the true locus of
that centre of moral and intellectual gravitation in which the actual
power of civilized society resides, and its true balance is to be found.
We should gladly extend our remarks on this most important, and
much desiderated branch of moral science, but it is our business to
display examples rather than enforce rules. The first duke of Ormonde
has, we trust, afforded no doubtful example of a statesman who was
equally inaccessible to the clamour of crowds or the corruption of
tyrants, though true alike to the just claims and real interests of king
and country, and assailed but too often by the ingratitude of both. In
Tyrconnel, we here present the reader with a character remarkably
illustrative of the contrast to these noble features.

RICHARD TALBOT, EARL OF TYRCONNEL. 391

Of the birth of Talbot we have not found any record, still less can
we offer any notice of his early career; nor are these considerations
such as to warrant the delay that they might offer in our narrative,
which must derive its entire interest from the history of the time.
We find Richard Talbot first in the historian's page the active advo-
cate of the claims of the papists in 1662, and among the most forward
and violent of those whom they sent to plead their cause in England ;
on which occasion he did more harm than good to the cause he was
employed to serve, by his extreme want of prudence and moderation,
and of all the qualities necessary for so difficult an office. If the reader
should demand to what grounds we are to attribute a selection so in-
judicious on the part of his countrymen, we believe that, independent of
the effect of mere violence to recommend the possessor to an angry
crowd, Talbot was recommended by the reputation of his favour with
the duke of York, into whose regard he had insinuated himself in the
Netherlands before the Restoration, by a convenient and subservient
attention, when attention and subserviency were harder to be met and
of higher value. His devotion to the royal interests was shown, it is
said, by an offer to assassinate Cromwell; and, after the restoration,
his services were recompensed and his peculiar merits recognised, by
the post of gentleman of the bed chamber to the duke of York.

His zeal in the cause he undertook, was increased by the early im-
pression received in the course of the rebellion of 1641, and the terrors
of the sack of Drogheda, left in his breast an abiding horror of fana-
ticism, which, in his narrow and worldly view, perhaps included all of
religion beyond its forms and its secular associations.

In 1678, he was among those persons who were ordered to be appre-
hended on the accusations of the popish plot: but nothing to his pre-
judice having been discovered, he was permitted to leave the kingdom.
From exile he was soon allowed to return, when this spurious excite-
ment had subsided, and a strong reaction of popular feeling for a time
gave strength to the actual machinations of the king's and duke's
designs for the same end. On his return he lost no time in the exer-
tion of his influence with the duke ; and availing himself of his reputed
knowledge of Irish affairs, he soon raised a fresh cloud of calumnies,
doubts, and misapprehensions against the government of Ireland, then
in the hands of the duke of Ormonde. The recall of this illustrious
nobleman was the immediate consequence : Rochester was sent over
with contracted powers ; and the authority over military affairs, which
till then had been committed to the lord-lieutenant, were now trans-
ferred to the lieutenant-general ; which post was destined for Talbot.

Rochester, unwilling perhaps to go to Ireland, delayed his journey,
and, in the mean time, a fresh and sudden change took place in the
condition of affairs. The circumstances appear to be imperfectly un-
derstood: the king seems to have given way to those secret counsels
in favour of Monmouth, which created a sudden coolness between him
and the duke of York, of whose presence he endeavoured to rid him-
self by sending him to Scotland. The projected policy with regard
to Ireland was entirely suspended, and matters remained there in a
state of suspense, though aggravated by the increased animosity and
the mutual accusations of parties.

392 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

Under these circumstances, while matters appeared not only to take
a turn opposed to the duke's political designs, but even to menace his
claim to the succession, the king- opportunely died under circumstances
impossible to be perused without some strong impressions of foul play.
The duke was under a growing disfavour, and the earl of Rochester
was on the point of being sent to the Tower, on a charge of official
malversation in the treasury ; and " a message was sent to Mr May,
then at Windsor, to desire him to come to court that day, which it
was expected would turn out a very critical day. And it proved to be
so indeed, though in a different way."* The king was taken suddenly
ill after taking " a porringer of spoon meat," which was made " too
strong for his stomach," after which he had an unquiet night. The
next day he was attended by Dr King, a chemist whom he had sent
for concerning some chemical operations, upon which he was at the
time engaged. When the doctor came, he was unable to understand
the king, whose language was become suddenly so broken and incohe-
rent as to be unintelligible. The doctor went out and reported this
unusual circumstance to lord Peterborough, who desired him to return
to the king: but he had hardly entered the chamber when the king
fell down in a fit, which, for the moment, was judged to be apoplectic.
The doctor then bled him, and he regained his senses ; but still appear-
ed so oppressed and stupified, that a return of the same attack was
expected hourly. It was proposed to administer the sacrament to him,
and he was addressed by Sancroft and Kenn, who, considering the real
emergency of the occasion, spoke strongly to him of his sinful life:
the king- was meanwhile exhibiting- in the presence of these reverend
prelates a singular illustration of the life he had led, and of his awful
unfitness to meet so sudden a call ; for he was supported in the bed on
which he sat by his mistress the duchess of Portsmouth. He was pressed
to receive the sacrament, but resisted all entreaty till the duke of
York sent for Huddleston, a favourite priest of his own persuasion:
when this person had all things prepared for the purpose, every one
was desired to leave the room but the earl of Bath and Feversham,
when the sacrament according to the ritual of the Romish communion
was administered with extreme difficulty, as the king- was unable to
swallow the wafer. After which, the company being re-admitted, the
king " went through the agonies of death" very decently, according to
Burnet: now and then complaining of being burned up within, but
still commanding his sufferings enough to deliver his last injunctions
to the duke, in favour of his favourite mistresses Portsmouth, and Nell
Gwyn; and to give his blessing to those present, who fell on their
knees to receive it, which seems to have been carrying the farce of
court obsequiousness as far as can well be conceived. And thus king-
Charles II. died. In addition to the slight incidents which give a
suspicious character to these circumstances, one far more unequivocal
remains to be told. Poison was suspected by some of the physicians:
and when the body was examined, great care was taken to divert the
attention of the medical men present, from the stomach, which was not
suffered to be examined; but while means were taken to divert and

* Burnet's Own Time.

interrupt the spectators' attention, it was suddenly put out of the way ;
but not before doctors Lower and Needham observed " two or three
blue spots on the outside," from which their inference was evidently
of an unfavourable nature. " Needham," says Burnet, " called twice
to have it opened," but the operators pretended not to hear; and he
heard a murmur amongst them when he repeated the call. Le Fevre,
a French doctor, observed a blackness on the shoulder; and Short,
whose creed encouraged him to speak his suspicions more freely, "did
very much suspect foul dealing," and was soon after taken ill after
drinking a large dose of wormwood wine given him by a patient, and
died, expressing his opinion to the physicians who attended him, that
he was poisoned for having spoken too freely of the king's death ! These
incidents may easily be overrated; yet it is not to be neglected that
they are reported upon the authority of those who were least likely to
be deceived; and whose inferences were the most likely to be grounded
on a just appreciation of the actual circumstances. After having composed
his history, Burnet received a very curious account from a Mr Henly,
of Hampshire, of a conversation this gentleman had with the duchess
of Portsmouth, who expressed herself as if she thought the king had
been poisoned; and on being further pressed, she mentioned that she
had always pressed his majesty to set himself at ease with his people,
by coming to an agreement with his parliament; that he had made
up his mind to follow this advice, and as a needful preliminary, re-
solved to send away the duke. These purposes were to have been
carried into effect the day following that on which he was taken ill.
She having been aware of these particulars beforehand, mentioned
them (with an injunction of secrecy perhaps,) to her confessor: it was
her impression that this person mentioned them to others, and that
they thus went round through the parties most interested to prevent
the king's designs by any means. This account, it must be observed,
seems to coincide with the facts, so far as they are known, and account
as well for the sudden interruption above mentioned in the Irish
arrangements as far as the king's sudden death.

The licentious profligate, whose prudence, when fairly alarmed,
might have led him to recall his steps and retrieve the fortunes of his
race, was succeeded by his shallow and bigoted brother on the throne.
Sincere and earnest in the principles he would have maintained, inflated
with a false notion of the power and rights of kings, incapable of any
sense of public rights, or not conceiving the real force and character of
public opinion and national feeling, he tampered with these danger-
ous elements with a feeble and inadvertent hand, until they exploded,
to the destruction of his house, and the subversion of the infirm and
tottering pillars on which it stood.

Among his first acts was the reparation of that broken tissue
of fraud and despotism, by which he had fondly hoped to effect
his favourite purpose. The recall of the duke of Ormonde was con-
firmed with circumstances of gratuitous harshness ; and having publicly
avowed his adherence to the church of Rome, he prepared to pave the
way for the restoration of the papal dominion in England by the com-
pletion of its triumphs in Ireland. The mere report of his favour went
before his acts, and heaped fresh fuel in Ireland upon the flames of party

394 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

contention and fear. The Irish papists were naturally eager to avail
themselves to the fullest extent, of a revolution which appeared to be
working in their favour. The notions of the day with regard to civil
rights were crude, loose, and unsettled. The various territorial ar-
rangements which had been taking place since the great rebellion, by
which lands and claims had appeared to be shifted by arbitrary awards
and decisions with a meteoric uncertainty, had tended to this effect, as
well as the continued interpositions of government, by stretches of
prerogative and special enactment, rather than by ascertained ordi-
nances and jurisdictions. With the understood sanction of the king,
sudden impulses of popular feeling became more violent in the
effects which they produced: the party animosity or alarm, as well
as the ambition and cupidity of turbulent and designing partisans,
were at once in arms, and all who looked for any advantage rushed
with characteristic impetuosity to their object. The papists were
animated not simply by the desire of obtaining political ascendancy
— they were also governed by an ardent thirst for revenge: nor, con-
sidering human nature, do we consider the statement to their preju-
dice ; for they were only obliged to look on the policy of which they
had been the subjects, according to the principles they held; and
if we abstract that stern and stringent policy from its own most im-
perative reasons, it could not fail to be regarded as oppressive. The
time was now seemingly at hand for the assertion of their civil and
ecclesiastical principles, and for seizing upon the ascendancy, which
every party will not fail to usurp when the occasion offers. The re-
storation of the forfeited lands was expected to follow that of a com-
munion, which the fondness of popular credulity now conceived to
be the ancient faith of the land; and this expectation gave its usual
excitement to the eagerness of the fresh impulse then communicated.
The proceedings of council and their enactments appeared tardy to the
popular zeal, and the departure of the duke of Ormonde to Dublin was
the signal for a universal influx of the party, thus roused into life
and hope. The alarm thus excited was increased by the selection of
officers appointed by the English council. They were, it is true, pro-
testants; for the king was checked at every stage of his rash course
by the advice of persons more cautious than he ; but they were gener-
ally supposed to be selected for dispositions likely to promote the royal
aims: Boyle (until tried) was supposed to have a leaning to popery,
and Granard being the zealous patron of the presbyterians, would
thus, it was presumed, be not unlikely to lead to a division of the hos-
tile camp. These impressions were indeed, as we have already noticed,
soon found to be erroneous.

The rebellion of Monmouth, quickly suppressed, gave the king a
pretext of which he gladly availed himself, to accelerate his opera-
tions. The Irish militia, embodied by the duke of Ormonde and com-
posed of protestants, was by his orders disarmed, and the measure was
rendered specious by rumours of a protestant insurrection, for which
there was much cause, but no disposition. It was immediately after
this act that Talbot was raised to the peerage by the king, and the act
was approved by the loud applause of his party. The clergy of the
church of Rome addressed the king, to petition that he would send over

the earl as lord-lieutenant, with plenary power to restore them to their
rights and functions ; but the king or his advisers felt that such a step
would yet be precipitate: there was danger in suffering the too rapid
advance of his policy in Ireland to expose its real design in England,
where some degree of caution was, even by the infatuated king, felt
to be necessary. The character of Talbot was rash and unmoderated
by judgment. On this account it was judged safer to steer a middle
course, and the earl of Clarendon was sent over. His near connexion
with the king, and his zealous profession of loyal principles, together
with his ignorance of Ireland, recommended him as a safe person to
quiet suspicions and allay the disturbances, which, having been raised
by intemperate eagerness, might lead to premature results. Clarendon
began by congratulating himself in his public speech to the council on
the quiet state of the country. He was ere long undeceived : the dis
arming of the militia had been productive of disorders unknown for
many previous years in Ireland; the bands of plundering bonaghts
which they had kept down, soon overspread the country with murders
and robberies, and it was found necessary to restore, to a considerable
extent, the arms which had been taken from the protestants.

The appointment of Clarendon was nothing more than the mask
devised to cover the approaches of the grand attack — to quiet alarm
and baffle the observation of England, which was now looking on these
transactions with jealousy ; but the zeal of James was too earnest for
the slow and temporising methods which prudence would have de-
manded. A more long-sighted and dexterous politician would have
shunned the precipitate course, which, producing its effects without
mature preparation, is sure to terminate in a dangerous reaction. He
would have known that no state of things is so perfect, that it may not
be speciously undermined under the pretext of remedying its evils and
repairing its defects; and that the measures by which these useful
ends may be seemingly approached, are but instruments to be used
according to the will of those who devise and govern their operation.
A well feigned zeal for the protestant constitution of the kingdom, might
easily have been reconciled with the demonstrations of a just and
humane regard for the civil prosperity of their brethren of the Romish
communion ; and while by slow and cautious forbearance, the fears of
the country and the discontents and jealousies which were gradually
fermenting into an organized existence, might have been dissipated;
the political forces of the nation, and the moral prepossessions which
are sure to follow their direction, might have been worked round in
the course of a few years, to a point at which resistance would be in-
effectual, and the power attained well and widely rooted, and have
sent out its fibres wide and deep through every institution and source of
civil life, But neither James, nor the zealots by whom he was secretly
impelled, nor the Irish party who were to be the vanguard of the
struggle he was about to commence, had the patience for political
manoeuvring. The pliancy of Clarendon was to be associated with
the fierce and unscrupulous resolution of Talbot, who was created
earl of Tyrconnel, and sent over as lieutenant-general of the Irish
army, and invested with all the powers over that efficient branch of
the Irish administration, which had till then been an essential power

396 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

of the lord-lieutenant. Talbot was, as King remarks, " a person more
hated than any other man by the protestants," he had been named by
Oates as the person destined for the very employment now committed
to his hands, and the remark circulated, that if " Oates was an ill
evidence, he was certainly a good prophet." Tyrconnel entered upon his
new office with ferocious alertness, while his first care was to new-orga-
nize the army; for this purpose he omitted no means, and suffered no
sense of humanity or regard for the claims of right or honour to stand
in his way. His sudden and violent steps were aggravated by inso-
lence, and debased by dissimulation. " In the morning he would take
an officer into his closet, and with all the oaths, curses, and damna-
tions which were never wanting to him, he would profess friendship
and kindness for him, and promise him the continuance of his commis-
sion, and yet in the afternoon cashier him with all the contempt he
could heap upon him. Nay, perhaps, while he was then caressing
him, he had actually given away his commission."* From the same
historian we learn, " as for the soldiers and troopers, his way with
them was to march them from their usual quarters to some distant
place where he thought they were least known, where they would be
put to the greatest hardships, and then he stripped them, &c, &c."f
Thus turned out of employment, and stripped, these unfortunate men
had to return home in the condition of paupers across the country.
This was but a small portion of the evil inflicted by the same act.
The soldiers by whom these were replaced, were selected for a pur-
pose, and governed by impressions little favourable to any end but the
insolence and disorder into which they launched at once. Raised for
the understood purpose of aggression, they did their worst to exceed
tbe purposes of their employer. Tyrconnel's orders, as the orders of the
worst administration will commonly be, were couched so as to present
the sound at least of civil right ; it was simply ordered that all classes
of his majesty's subjects should be allowed to serve in the army.
Tyrconnel better understood the spirit of his employer, and went
straightway to his end. He gave open and peremptory directions, that
none should be admitted but members of the Church of Rome.

The consequences of this innovation were some of them immediate
and deplorable. The change thus violently effected was not more
remarkable for the ruinous and inhuman dismissal of the existing
corps of the army, than for the indiscriminate admission, in their place,
of the most unqualified and the most vile. Tyrconnel, whose object it
was to carry his purposes with the rough and strong hand of violence,
and to ruin as well as to depress, had no scruple in the adaptation of
his instruments to his ends. The dregs and offscourings of society,
robbers and adventurers, poured into his ranks, and incapable of disci-
pline, continued to pursue their lawless vocations under the counte-
nance of authority. Of their general conduct, King gives the follow-
ing account : — " The new-raised forces and officers, being put into arms
and command to which they were strangers, into good cloathes, and
mounted on horses for which others had paid, behaved themselves
with all the insolence common to such sort of men when unworthily

* King. f Ibid.

advanced. They every where insulted over the English, and had
their mouths continually full of oaths, curses, and imprecations against
them. They railed on them, and gave them all the opprobrious names
they could, and if any chastised them for their sauciness, though ever
so much provoked, they had the judges and juries on their side; they
might kill whom they pleased without fear of the law, as appeared
from Captain Nangle's murdering his disbanded officer in the streets
of Dublin ; but if any killed or hurt them, they were sure to suffer, as
captain Aston found to his cost, &c." King further continues his
description of the constitution of the new force. " The non-commis-
sioned officers were obliged without pay, to subsist their men, as they
termed it, for three months, — a thing impossible for them to do, since
most of them were not able to maintain themselves. The better sort
of their captains and inferior officers had been footmen or servants to
protestants. One g*entleman's cow-herd was made a lieutenant, but he
would fain have capitulated with his master, to keep his place vacant
for him if his commission did not hold. Most of them were the sons
or descendants of rebels in 1641, who had murdered so many protes-
tants. Many were outlawed and condemned persons that had lived by
torying and robbing. No less than fourteen notorious tories were
officers in Cormack O'Neale's regiment, and when forty or fifty thou-
sand such were put into arms, without any money to pay them, we
must leave the world to judge what apprehensions this must breed in
protestants, and whether they had not reason to fear the destruction
that immediately fell on them. They saw their enemies in arms, and
their own lives in their power; they saw their goods at the mercy of
those thieves, and robbers, and tories, now armed and authorized, from
whom they could scarce keep them when it was in their power to
pursue and hang them ; and they had all the reason in the world to
believe, that a government that had armed such men of desperate
fortunes and resolutions, was so far from protecting them, which is the
only end of all government, that on the contrary, it designed to destroy
both their lives and fortunes. The latter of which, as will appear by
the sequel, they have in a manner entirely lost."

Upon an arrangement so fatal to the civil state of the country, the
reasons given at the time offer a sufficient comment, the plenary
power of the king to select his servants, will now demand no reasons
on any side ; but the excuse chat the " Protestants would not concur
with the king's intentions," and that there was therefore " a necessity
of dismissing them," and that the permission to plunder the protes-
tants was a necessary encouragement to raise an army, without
which the king had nothing to trust, were the remaining pleas thus
publicly and generally maintained, and the topics of controversial
discussion between the writers and debaters of either party; they
show clearly the bold and thorough-paced character of the agents
and their aims, and render all their Irish acts clear from any ambi-
guity. The similar attempts to pervert the courts of justice to
similar ends, must be viewed as the consistent prosecution of the same
policy, in a country, from its imperfect civilization and continual dis-
order, subject to the irregular influence of every civil authority, and
every power regular or irregular; the bench, always an organ of civil

398 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

administration capable of the most extensive influence, was particu-
larly adapted to be converted into an instrument of tyranny. The
barrier, apparently so wide and insurmountable, between judicial
integrity and the accommodating subserviency of the place-man, is in
reality no hinderance to the worst imaginable perversions, so long as
the place-man can be elevated at the will of courts and bonded to their
purposes. King James made short work of the matter by a summary
removal of three judges, in whose places he substituted others. Sir
Alexander Fitton, a person in all respects unworthy of the trust, was
made chancellor; and, arrogating for his court a power above the
laws, he accommodated it to the purpose of his appointment. The
same method was applied to the common law courts, with the same
success. Nugent, Daly, and Rice, three lawyers only recommended
by their obsequious devotion to the dictates of the castle, were made
judges, in direct opposition to the remonstrances of lord Clarendon,
then lord-lieutenant. We think it now unnecessary to observe, that
we consider the unfitness of these appointments not to consist in the
creed of these men, but in their personal unfitness, and the party end
of their election. It needs not to be urged that a person of any com-
munion, having the principles of a gentleman, integrity and honour,
could not be warped into the subserviency of which these persons
are accused ; but such persons were unquestionably not the instruments
of king James's designs, or of the measures by which he pursued them
— measures which it is to be observed, were censured even by the pope
as impolitic and unjust. The only remaining fastnesses to be assailed
were the corporations, upon which mainly depended the civil strength
of the English ; these were assailed with the same measure of consid-
eration and justice, as the army and the bench. This attack was
carried through with his characteristic violence. Clarendon being
found quite un suited for the thorough measures required, was recalled;
and Tyrconnel, by the influence of the earl of Sunderland, to whom
he agreed to pay a share of his salaries, appointed lord-deputy
in 1687. He went to work with the civil as he had done with
the military departments. He demanded from the Dublin corpora-
tion a surrender of their charter; they petitioned the king, and received
an insulting repulse. By a most infamous mockery of justice, they
were ejected by a quo warranto brought into the court of exchequer,
which was the court in which the whole business of the king was
done. The whole of these infamous proceedings may be found in
great detail in the " State of the Protestants of Ireland" by archbishop
King, a contemporary and a looker on, whose testimony cannot rea-
sonably be objected to, on the ground either of insufficient judgment or
means of observation, as he stands incontrovertibly at the head of
those, who can be named eminent for high attainment or ability in his
generation ; and the querulous accusations of prejudice brought some-
times by very incompetent judges against his representations, are
gratuitously unfounded, and would be unworthy even of the passing
comment of a sentence, but that every word dropped in the support of
party clamour derives some weight from the passions and the igno-
rance of the crowd who are concerned in public affairs.

" To prevent writs of Error into England," writes King, " all these

quo warrantos were brought in the exchequer, and in about two terms
judgments were entered against most charters." For this purpose, all
the lowest and most paltry chicanery was resorted to. It was endea-
voured to find the corporators guilty of illegal acts, but in this design
the instruments of James were totally frustrated. The principal pleas
which were effectively resorted to were entirely technical, and consisted
for the most part of quibbling objections to the form and wording of
the charters. Some corporations were betrayed into surrender by
the agents of their head landlords. Of this, the borough of Athy is
mentioned by King, which thus fell a victim to the agent of the earl
of Kildare. It is needless however to enter at length upon the curious
history of the various artifices or tyrannical means made use of in this
proceeding ; for the most part they were even ridiculously unfair. It
may generally be observed that the general principle adopted was to
adapt the forms of law to the utmost extent to which they could by
any stretch of language be made available, and when this was either
impossible (an unlikely case to occur ; for the reach of sophistry is
unlimited,) or where some advantage was to be gained by more direct
injustice, it was directly resorted to without any scruple. The only
obstacle which indeed offered itself to the sweeping snd resolute
career of civil change, arose from the pressure of the party itself. The
eager and inflamed zeal of the popular party quickly took flame at the
prospect of a triumph. The intellect of the community, unenlightened
to a degree not easily comprehensible from any thing now existing,
was soon inflamed to the point of fanaticism. The people interpreted
the intentions of their leaders, as the people ever will, according to
their own prejudices, and in consequence were ready to rush to the
results they expected and desired. Seeing the protestants oppressed,
persecuted, and unceremoniously ejected from their rights, they joined
impetuously in the violence with which they were assailed, and every
street was disturbed with brawls arising from violence or insult at-
tempted against those on whom the government was employing its whole
arsenal of persecution.* The persons as well as the rights of the
persecuted party were insulted, and every injury committed which the
sense of impunity was likely to encourage.

The government also, was no less unsparing in its outrages upon
the rights of individuals, than on those of public bodies, and in these
latter far less form was required; it was the maxim of the king, and
the continual text of his agents, that he " would not be a slave to the
laws," and Ireland was the selected scene for the trial of this right.
Here the laws were daily set aside by a dispensing power, and we could
offer flagrant instances of robberies perpetrated virtually by the king
under the pretence of this right. " If he had a mind to any thing, he
sent an officer with a file of musqueteers and fetched it away without
considering the owners."! In the pursuance of his purposes, neither
public nor private rights were allowed to have any weight. Private pro-
perty and patent offices or privileges were treated with less ceremony

* If any one should consider the representation here made as savouring of a
party spirit, we may refer to the accounts which we have given of the rebellion of
1641, as clear evidence of the contrary. — Ed.

t King.

400 TKANSITION.— POLITICAL.

than the public character of corporate bodies had required. Instances
are unnecessary, but the reader may be gratified by a few. The
chancellor of the exchequer was turned out to make room for Rice
the instrument of the crown; Sir John Topham, and Sir John
Coghil, were turned out of their masterships in chancery. Of the
persons thus deprived, few had even the privilege of a hearing; and
they who had, were called before the chancellor, who on a private
hearing dismissed them without further ceremony. It is however
unnecessary to dwell further on this state of affairs; our sole object
being to convey some general impression of the character of James's
policy in this country.

Indeed, among the many circumstances which either tend to char-
acterize or authenticate our view of this policy, there is none more
unquestionable in the construction or the evidence it offers, than the
fact that it had not the sanction either of the more moderate or the
more respectable of any party. The court of Rome censured its
folly and cruelty. Dr Macguire, the primate of the Roman church in
Ireland, joined the better portion of the aristocracy and clergy of that
communion in a strong remonstrance addressed to the king, to whom
they represented that Tyrconnel's violence had only been directed to
awaken a universal terror and indignation, and that he had displaced
the protestants to no other end than to excite discontent and spread
distress and confusion through the country.

Even here it is perhaps right to admit that some attempts were
made to keep up some such shadow of justice as the purpose would
admit of; one-third of the new corporations were allowed to be pro-
testants, but this arrangement was so contrived as to convey no pro-
tection, the protestants were cautiously chosen from the quakers and
other dissenting classes, who were at the time least likely to make
common cause with the Church of England. The same was the
method pursued with regard to the courts of justice; one protestant
judge selected for those qualities which should have excluded him
from the bench, sat with two of the church of Rome, and thus pre-
served the appearance of equal and indifferent justice.

While these attacks on the protestants were going on, it was not
to be expected that the great seminary of the protestant church in
Ireland was to escape its share of persecution. Before Tyrconnel's
arrival, the king sent his mandate to the university, commanding the
admission of a person named Green, as professor of the Irish language,
and that he should be paid all arrears of the salary. It is needless to
say that there was no such professorship, and thus the first attack was
baffled. After Tyrconnel's arrival, a more determined effort was to be
made ; seeing that nothing was to be hoped from the fear or subserviency
of the university, more violent means were to be used. One Doyle, a
pretended convert, was named to be a Fellow in virtue of the king's dis-
pensing power, but his utter unfitness was shown, so as even to con-
found Tyrconnel himself; the college, however, would have been over-
ruled on this point, but the oath of supremacy which Doyle feared to
take, was a surer ground of defence, and on a hearing in which every
point was strained in his favour, the case was given up. The enemies
of the Irish protestants did not however suffer their purpose to bf

thus defeated. The chief means by which the University was then
supported, was a government allowance of £388 per annum; this
resource was stopped : such a proceeding was at the time nearly equi-
valent to a suppression of the university: it was soon followed up by still
more summary proceedings. The learned body, to which, indepen-
dent of all consideration of their main function as subsidiary to the
church, Ireland was so much indebted, were expelled from their wails,
and a garrison quartered in their room. The soldiers vented their
fury upon the walls, and mischief to the amount of £2000 remained
to be afterwards repaired by the university. The plate, furniture,
and all property, private or public, were seized for the king; the
scholars were persecuted, and prohibited on pain of death from meet-
ing together to the number of three. The same course was pursued
with all protestant schools, whether of public or private foundation.
From this, the next step was the seizure of the churches, and the
sequestration of all vacant benefices and bishopricks.

The sheriffs every-where appointed for the same purpose, and
selected for the same qualifications, went beyond the intent of their
employers in oppression and spoliation, and the country sounded with
universal outcries against them, and the effects they quickly produced.
The civil and military officers of the crown were leagued to plunder
and oppress by all means which lay within their several vocations. A
consequence, which, in the eagerness of fanaticism and cupidity had
been lost sight of, occurred to aggravate the shock which the kingdom
thus received ; commerce, chiefly in the hands of the protestants, wa.«
utterly destroyed. This mischief is the more to be noticed, because it
was not the mere result of the king's eager hostility against the pro-
testants, but an avowed expedient for the general depression of the
kingdom: for it was a well-known maxim, openly avowed by this
feeble, though violent and wrong-headed bigot, that the depression of
the people and the abatement of national prosperity, were the only
security for the power of the crown. The scheme for the destruction
of commerce involved every portion of his majesty's dominions, but it
was considered a prudent caution to begin this unworthy operation
upon the vantage ground of Ireland.

This country had, as we have already had occasion to state, suffered
considerable shocks in the late reign, which had much disturbed
its progress. Till the cruel and insane enactments against the ex-
portation of Irish cattle, there had been a uniform consideration for
the advantage of Ireland in all previous commercial enactments and re-
gulations concerning trade, and no distinction had been made between
the two kingdoms. For a long time this island had indeed fortunately
escaped the attention of the commercial part of the English community,
owing to the limited scope of commerce itself; and the kings of Eng-
land, who mostly felt their own interest in the advantage of Ireland, were
allowed to use their discretion. But when the country gentlemen had
acquired general notions on the political interests of the country, they
naturally fell into many errors, from false reasoning upon a subject of
which the extent and difficulty had not begun to be appreciated. Hence
aroise the commencement of those commercial restrictions, so long in-
jurious to this country. But king James and his culpable advisers delih-

ii. 2 c Ir.

402 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

erately adopted their ruinous policy, without any regard to any con-
sideration but the increase of the royal power. In pursuance of this
design, it was at the time affirmed by those who were supposed to be
in the king's counsels, that he had determined to suffer the English
navy to fall into decay, that the French might grow great at sea, and
thoroughly destroy the trade which increased the wealth and promoted
the insolence of his British subjects. It was at the time a cant among
the royal partisans, that the king " could not have his will " of the
people by reason of their wealth, and he could not himself forbear oc-
casionally expressing himself to the same effect. It was openly rea-
soned by his officers that " it was more for the king's advantage to
have his subjects poor than rich; for, said they, you see how willing
the poor Irish are to enlist themselves soldiers for twopence a-day, who
know no better way of living: but it were impossible to bring the rich
churls of England (so they usually called them) from their farms, and
shops, and such terms, to serve the king. They further alleged, that
the poverty of the generality of France is the reason that they are
so willing to be soldiers, and makes them so easily maintained when
they are enrolled."*

The trade of the kingdom was, as we have stated, chiefly in the
hands of protestants, and this gave an added reason for its destruction,
so powerful, as to have in some measure thrown all others into compar-
ative neglect. The protestants not entering into the general views of
the king, drew from a sense of their own importance to the welfare of
the kingdom, a fallacious hope that they might still receive protection.
They soon were undeceived. They were quickly repelled and driven
out of the kingdom by oppressions and injuries of which the following
are chiefly enumerated as leading to this disastrous consequence : in
the towns they saw the lowest persons, many of whom had been either
their menials, or in some such way dependent on them, raised over
their heads into situations which gave them that power to insult and
injure, which the base and low will never be slow to use to the hurt
of those who have been their superiors: the great and destructive
exactions consequent upon the elevation into sudden authority of
persons who had no money, and who were therefore necessitated to
repair this want by extortions, under the pretext of taking goods on
credit: the customs were also used for the purpose of ruining trade;
the duties were raised by discretionary valuations, so that the merchant
was often compelled to pay treble duties. There was another griev-
ance, more circuitous in its operation, but not less destructive in
effect: — the whole coin of the kingdom, which was short of the revenue,
circulated once a-year into the treasury: from this, great care was
taken that no part of it should be paid into protestant hands: and
it was generally impressed on the members of the church of Rome,
that they should deal exclusively with each other. Of this it was
the consequence, that no one would deal with the protestants unless
on credit, and that without any design to pay. They were similarly
oppressed by the officers of the army, who took whatever they wanted
by force when persuasion failed.

Of these injuries the consequence was, that the wealthiest traders

* King.

RICHARD TALBOT, EARL OF TYRCONNEL. 403

soon contrived to remove their property from the kingdom, and trade
was at an end. Other means were resorted to by Tyrconnel, among*
which was the unhappy expedient of encouraging the illegal convey-
ance of Irish wool into France ; but we cannot afford further detail of
this class of oppressions, for which the materials are unusually abun-
dant in the numerous documents which remain from the contempora-
ries. The attacks on property were not confined to trade.

In addition to the measures of destruction last mentioned, the
whole tribe of informers sprung up with more than their usual fer-
tility. The varied plots against the proprietors of lands, which had,
in the administration of Parsons, been such an aggravation of the
evils of that calamitous period, were now sadly increased in amount
and variety. This can easily be understood: the protestants were
then beyond all comparison the more civilized class: the insolence,
injustice, and falsehood, which always belong to the triumph of the
democracy of every party, were now aggravated by the character of the
party itself, and by the general condition that it was now for the first time
countenanced by authority. Formerly there was always a hope of
escape at the worst, in the chance that the prosecution of private or
official tyranny might be exposed to the English council or the eye of
royal justice; but now there was no refuge at the throne; the fountain
of all malversation and perversion of all right was the royal breast.
Yet, even under these circumstances, so monstrous was the combina-
tion of villany and ignorance, that accusations failed, from being too
evidently false for even the goodwill of the council to admit. On one
occasion, they had indeed the mortification to be themselves the re-
luctant witnesses in favour of sixty protestant gentlemen, who had been
before them to be examined on the very day that they were accused
of holding an illegal meeting at Nenagh.

While the most unprecedented combination of oppression, misgov-
ernment, and the most incredible infatuation, were thus working their
most deplorable effects, and Ireland was a stage of every species of op-
pression, borne as oppression has seldom been borne in the history
of nations, the triumphant party had their own quarrels : like foul birds,
they soon began to tear each other upon the carcass of the fallen foes.
The lord-lieutenant did not escape the enmity of those whom it was
impossible even for his unscrupulous nature to satisfy: his secretary,
when restrained in the selling of offices, resolved to ruin him, and
drew up an accusation for the purpose. He was backed in this attempt
by the titular primate and father Petre: but the influence of Sun-
derland prevailed to save Tyrconnel, who met the charge with a long
and true detail of his enemy's corruption. We shall not enter into
this detail; accusation found sufficient scope on either side, and it will
be enough to state, that the secretary was dismissed from his employ-
ment, and the attack upon Tyrconnel had no effect in diminishing his
favour with a master whom he served too well. More serious was the
dissatisfaction of the English privy council at the great and sudden
defalcation of the Irish revenue. Such a consequence was not to be
viewed with much complacency by any; but there were in the council
some lords, who saw with disapprobation the course which had been
adopted towards Ireland, and now noticed its effects with a severity

not very acceptable to king James. Lord Bellasis, a Roman catholic
peer, with just indignation, observed that a governor like Tyrconnel
would ruin ten kingdoms ; and so loud became the outcry in England,
that at last he was compelled to go over to set matters right with the
king. The king, perfectly willing for the destruction of both king-
doms, was under the necessity of disguising his policy as much as his
violent and narrow disposition would admit, and was from time to
time compelled to contradict his own declarations, and belie his pur-
poses.

Tyrconnel committed tbe g-overnment of the kingdom to Fitton and
the earl of Clanricarde, reminding them of the great power which
their party had now gained, with a blasphemous imprecation that God
might damn them should they be remiss in tbe use of it. He took
with him chief baron Rice, and waited at Chester on the king, whom
he easily satisfied. His foes were not so easily satisfied; the titular
primate, who had been Sheridan's assistant in the recent accusation,
and father Petre, who had joined in the same attempt, were filled with
resentment. The English Romanists were dissatisfied at the atrocity
of the means taken to exalt their party in Ireland, and the Irish mem-
bers of the same church were utterly discontented at the result. The
latter soon saw that while the protestants were insulted and robbed by
soldiers and lay officials of every denomination, no substantial change
was all the while effected in favour of the Roman church, neither were
the hierarchy and ecclesiastical privileges on one side a step raised, or on
the other depressed ; and the Pope, who did not approve of any part of
James's character and policy, showed his entire contempt of all their
proceedings on every occasion, as we shall presently notice more fully-

Before proceeding farther with the train of events in Ireland, we
shall now call the reader's attention to the concurrent progress of
English affairs, upon which depended the great event of all this miser-
able wickedness and folly ; and lest any reader should consider this an
unnecessary digression, we may here observe, as we shall hereafter
more fully explain, that numerous modern historical writers have, either
by inadvertence or design, altogether misinterpreted the history of the
period, from taking a narrowed view of events, isolated from all the
essential concomitants of cause and circumstance. We cannot, indeed,
too frequently repeat our maxim, adopted in this work, that to inves-
tigate aright the justice and policy of measures, the designs and prin-
ciples of the party by whom they are to be administered, is the chief
element, and, for the most part, the only one worth consideration. To
estimate rightly the violent proceedings of the Irish government at
this critical period, it becomes absolutely necessary to survey the whole
system of instrumentality of which they were a portion.

King James had ascended the throne under circumstances unusually
favourable. A severe struggle between the court and the country
party had, by a succession of incidents, most of which were apparently
accidental, terminated in the temporary prostration of the popular
spirit. The sounds of party conflict had been silenced by the defeats
and disasters of the popular party, by the guilt and folly of those who
had made the public cause instrumental to their private malignity or
ambition, or by the exposure of the great impostures which had be-

RICHARD TALBOT, EARL OF TYRCONNEL. 405

trayed the public zeal into a false position. A cessation of party in-
trigue was accompanied by an obsequious parliament, who, if the
mere appearance of moderation had been preserved, and the king had
simply contented himself with the attainment of despotic power, would
have been content to fill his coffers, swell his prerogative, and sleep
on their forms, under the soporific influence of a despotic sceptre, and
in full faith in the divine right of kings.

But the divine protection which has, we are willing to believe, ever
watched over the fate of England, ordered it otherwise, and broke this
fatal trance. The king was, as the reader is aware, not nearly so de-
sirous to exalt the prerogative, as to bring his heretic people to the
foot of the Pope, and either his impatience, or that of the priests by
whom all his actions were guided and governed, would not allow him
to pursue his beloved object by the longer, but safer and surer, path of
policy. His arrogant faith in the power of the crown, and the easy
conquest over the ill-concerted rebellion of the duke of Monmouth,
increased his power and his confidence, and he soon came to the rash
and fatal resolution, to fling aside the flimsy disguise which had
hitherto concealed his motives, and go directly to his object. The
intemperance of his zeal hurried him on, and many of the steps which
at first appeared to secure him a IJfcfcmph, and to increase the terror
and submission of his subjects, were, from their nature, sure to create
a speedy and dangerous reaction. By a fatality, not singular in the
events of Europe, the triumph of protestantism was to be ushered in
by menacing appearances of protestant adversity all over Europe. A
general revolution in favour of the church of Rome, appeared to have
fully set in, and a seeming conspiracy of thrones and principalities in
its favour, was crowned by the fearful consequences of the revocation
of the edict of Nantz. The horrors of religious persecution, so much
talked of, and so little truly imagined in our own times, let loose against
protestants in the dominions of Louis, excited terror and despair in
the British isles, among the crowd who looked no further than the
bounded circle of the moment. But England, though at an humble
distance it is to be confessed, reflected the horrors of the continent
in that dreadful period. The will of the despot will never want
agents suited to its utmost reach of cruelty and injustice: the exe-
crable Jefferies and the monster Kirke, with their cloud of fiend-
like officials, were let loose upon the English protestants; the one
made a mockery of justice, and the other turned aside its very name,
for the satisfaction of the tyrant's and bigot's eager fanaticism, and
for the gratification of their own blood- thirsty natures. We are not
under the necessity of entering upon the well-known details of their
crimes, to be found in every history of England,* as strongly nar-
rated by the latitudinarian Hume, as by the zealous and decided
pen of Burnet. Suffice to say, that every town, and almost every
village in England, was stained with judicial and military execu-
tions, on so little warrant or pretence of crime, that no protestant
could feel safe. To throw a slight veil over this flagitious persecu-
tion, every pretence was adopted to give a civil character to the pro-

* See Hume s England, Vol. viii., p. 184, et seq.

40(j TRANSITION— POLITICAL.

ceeding: the common pretence was some suspicion of having been
engaged in rebellion, being disaffected, having harboured rebels, or
uttered disloyal language. The nearest general idea we can give of
the nature of the proceedings, may be had from the statement, that
even Jefferies, who pretended to use the forms of law, constantly threw
even these aside to obtain quick and summary convictions ; that not
content with bullying the advocates, where any such had the courage
to appear, and in his own person confounding the judge with the prose-
cutor,-he adopted the still shorter method of endeavouring to bully the
prisoners into admissions which might save any unnecessary delay be-
tween the bar and the gallows. Kirke had a still shorter course ; setting
aside the mockery of trial, he considered that the real object of the
whole proceeding was the death of obnoxious persons, and he hanged
those who were brought before him without further inquiry. Even
these atrocities might have escaped the retribution they richly deserv-
ed, had the infatuated monarch been content to carry his objects in
detail, and by slow approaches, making conquest precede the assumption
of victory. His first step was the assertion of the power to dispense with
the tests by which the members of the Romish communion were excluded
from the army. He declared to his parliament his wish to retain the
services of the numerous officers of that persuasion who had assisted in
suppressing the late rebellion. He told them that the militia had been
found useless, and that it was necessary to maintain a force, on which,
in case of any future rebellion, he might rely, and that he would
neither expose them to the disgrace of a dismissal, nor lose their ser-
vice. For this purpose he demanded a supply, and at the same time
mentioned, that by his royal prerogative he had dispensed with the
test in their favour. The commons were as much disposed as it was
possible for any body of English gentlemen to be, to submit to the
encroachments of royalty, and it is most likely, as Hume suggests,
that if he had been content to exercise the unconstitutional riffht which
he thus claimed, they would have been silent; but, under the direct ap-
peal, silence would have been too ignominious. The double assertion
of a dispensing power and of a standing army, composed too of that
class most incompatible with the constitution, and most likely to be
used against it, was too much, and the commons were roused to the
exertion of some freedom of speech. A remonstrance was voted, pre-
pared, and transmitted; but they received a bullying reply from
the king. They soon, however, gave way before the king's anger, and
had the baseness to send Mr Coke, the member for Derby, to the
Tower, because, while they were yet quailing under their terror at the
angry reply of the king, he attempted to recall their spirit by the
simple but eloquent reproof, " I hope we are all Englishmen, and not
to be frightened with a few hard words." From such cowardice little
resistance was to be apprehended by the king. They adjourned with-
out committing themselves by any further consideration of the con-
tested points, and when they next met, they entered with loyal alacrity
upon the business of supply, voting a large additional revenue to
strengthen the hand they feared. This victory was, however, in other
respects frustrated by the firmness of the other house, and by the im-
petuosity of the king. The king's speech was received by the lords,

RICHARD TALBOT, EARL OF TYRCONNEL.

407

after the usual custom of the house, by a vote of thanks, which was
yet merely personal. A few days after, when the consideration of its
actual purport was proposed, an attempt was made to arrest this course,
by the representation that by their vote of thanks the peers had pre-
cluded themselves from all further animadversion on the subject. This
doctrine was promptly repelled, and several peers expressed their
opinions in opposition to the court with frank spirit. The lead in this
opposition was, however, taken by the bishop of London, in the name
of the whole bench, which Hume, with a gratuitous levity of assertion
which the whole history of the reign should have silenced, observes,
was the quarter from which such a freedom was least to be expected.
These, with the temporal peers who took the same side, strenuously
urged, that the " test was the best fence they had for their religion ;
if they gave up so great a point, all the rest would soon follow; and
if the king might by his authority supersede such a law, fortified with
so many clauses, and, above all, with an incapacity, it was in vain to
think of law any more; the government would become arbitrary and
absolute."* Jefferies took the principal part on the opposite side, and
attempted to maintain the doctrines of the court by such arguments as
alone could have any weight in the maintenance of such doctrines ; but
as these consisted in menace and blustering assertion, the eloquence
of Jefferies fell pointless, and he found himself disconcerted, humbled,
and out of his element, in the presence of those who rebuked his inso-
lence with merited scorn, and treated his reasons with the slight which
was their due. The king was enraged, and committed the precipitate
step which was never to be retrieved, by proroguing and finally dissolv-
ing a parliament, less hostile to his person and aims than any other
he might after hope to bring together; and we would here call the
reader's attention to the consideration which we think essential to a
due allowance for the folly of this and many further steps of the
king, — that his heat of temper, and the fierce indignation with which
he met every opposition, prevented that moral recoil of fear and alarm,
by which a more considerate and composed spirit would have been
led to perceive danger, where James, in his blind and intemperate
zeal, only saw offence; so inveterately was his understanding bigoted
to the sense of his indefeasible power, that he felt the very remon-
strance of those upon whose rights he would infringe, as an insult
and an outrage, so that his resentment and gloomy pride went before
all regard to consequences. By keeping this seemingly slight moral
fact in view, and looking in addition on the exceeding instability of a
temper so little supported by manly firmness or statesmanlike wisdom,
it will be easy to conceive at a glance the opposite attributes of mind
which appear to characterize his conduct — the extremes of presump-
tion and imbecility are indeed never far asunder.

On the abstract merits of the question thus raised, as to the
dispensing power of the king, the decision is involved in too many
difficulties for the brief method of discussion which our limits would
require. Lawyers have exerted all their ability to enlighten and ob-
scure it, and with all the admirable resources of learning and talent

* Burr et.

408

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

which they can bring to bear on such questions, and have brought to
bear on this, they can seldom be cited as the best guides in the inves-
tigation of a principle, or even in the policy and expediency of its ap-
plication. Ever engaged in advocacy, and fettered by the habitual
constraint of conventional maxims, which are in so many instances only
valid in courts of justice, they are better judges of what is the law
than of what is right, fit, or just. The mind of Coke will, on this very
question, be found perched on the absurdity that the king is entitled to
the entire service of all his subjects, which can only be true in virtue of
an admission; and may, like some other maxims, be very useful as a
summary statement of the facts and secondary principles it is meant to
embody, but no more than a wretched assumption when applied as a first
principle to the decision of a right which can only exist in one of three
ways, as the inference from a necessary principle, from unquestionable
and general admission of fitness, or from the express declaration of
positive law. Viewed in the last mentioned aspect, there seems to be
a general consent of lawyers, whose authority can hardly be rejected in
such a question, that a dispensing power in the crown has always been
admitted in the legislature as well as in the courts, up to the period in
question; so far there can properly be raised no question. But the
state of the law being so far ascertained, a very wide question must be
admitted to arise as to the limits of such a power. If we have to look
no farther than special precedents, it is evident that there may be a
very grievous latitude for all abuse: as the encroachments of power
and the delusions of party feeling would simply draw the variety of the
precedents into a fallacious and dangerous, yet very simple and spe-
cious principle in favour of a general power. When once admitted in
all the cases which appear to have arisen, there seems to be no reason
why it should, for the first time, be arrested upon any new case which
may arise, and this inference only shows that the principle must be
found in some other mode of looking at the question than precedents.
That some limit must exist, will be admitted the moment the constitu-
tion is denied to be a pure despotism.

But that we cannot afford space to go into refined distinctions, it
would be indeed easy to prove, that the application of precedents is on
such a question a defective mode of reasoning. Such has been, how-
ever, the argument mainly relied upon, and is perhaps the most efficient
which could be used in a court of justice, of which the decisions are
principally no more than the statement of law and authority. But it
is enough to show that such questions are not precisely to be measured
by the limits of men's prudence and legal decision, if it be considered
that every unconstitutional stretch of power might, until that very
period, have been maintained by such reasonings to an extent which
must in fact have established the most contradictory positions. The
frame of government actually contained within its texture numerous
contradictory elements, and for several reigns there had been an in-
herent strife between its vital powers, which was itself a part of the
constitution as it then stood. But in any form or state of government
there are some essential principles of universal application which can-
not fail to lead to a conclusion satisfactory to the reason, however it

may escape from the impassioned, partial, and conflicting views of
courts and parliaments. Admitting without comment the necessity of
some limiting power to the operation of human laws, we may state,
in the simplest language, these elementary principles, which we think
set bounds to every dispensing power, so far as it comes within their
application. First, and most universal, is the principle which we have
often seen stated in the works of juridical and historical writers,
namely, when the law to be dispensed with, is itself inconsistent with
the existence of such a power; on this we shall not dilate. Another
involves the same principle, in a different manner, that is to say, when
a dispensing power is at variance with the civil constitution of the
country. Such a ground is not, however, within the strict bounds of
legal argument. But there is a distinction which we conceive ought
to be considered as a limiting principle, and to contain one true cri-
terion of the general boundary of such a prerogative : it lies simply
in the distinction between the general and special operation of a law.
To dispense generally with a law, must virtually amount to a repealing
power; to arrest its application in any particular case is different, and
even if the interference should be erroneous, amounts to nothing more
than an abuse of a discretionary power, needful for the due application
of all the imperfect results of human wisdom. Here we would contend
on this principle, that a general dispensing power is, in the strict sense
of the word, contrary to law, unless it be assumed to be the despot's will ;
as any law independent of this essentially involves, that it is independent
of such a prerogative; we must therefore feel ourselves bound to
affirm that all decisions to the contrary, which legal writers have
adduced, were either illegal, or not precedents in favour of the prero-
gative so exercised. Had king James's claim been, to dispense with the
test in favour of his own chaplain, the case would escape the applica-
tion of the principle. When he set it aside as affecting a particular
set or body of individuals, it amounted to a gross, dangerous, and un-
constitutional abuse of a prerogative ; but when he declared a general
exemption, he set aside the law of the land, and broke down the very
barrier on which his own rights were based — his right became no more
than the right of the strong, and opposition to whatever extent circum-
stances required and admitted, justifiable. In this conclusion it is only
assumed that there is some limitary line, at which the trust reposed in
the crown, for the national advantage, may be considered as betrayed.
A question of great peril and difficulty, and open to great and destruc-
tive errors; but such is the necessary result of the imperfection of
human judgments. The errors of human reason bee >me dangerous in
proportion to the importance of the interest at issue; and perhaps in
such questions as that on which the English nation was then compelled
to decide, the safest rule would be, that the case should be imminent and
extreme, and the danger universal and fundamentally affecting the
constitution of the country. Happily, such a question in the present
state of things, is not very likely to arise in the British nation. The
crown has been reduced to its just place in the combination of national
authorities of which the legislature is composed ; and though we have
no doubt that from time to time unconstitutional proceedings will bo

410 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

adopted for the purpose of raising every one of these powers above its
constitutional level, yet at the present time, the danger of these, if an\,
seems rather in the democratic than in the kingly scale.

Such was the main question in that critical controversy between
James and the English nation, in the course of which the several
functions of the civil constitution of the state were attempted to be per-
verted by force or influence. The commons which, deriving its cha-
racter and spirit ever from the preponderant power for the time in
being*, is therefore liable to great inequalities in its action, gave way,
though not without sufficient demur, to give warning to a saner spirit
than that of king James of the national feeling and of the tendency
of his conduct. The stress of that great contest was destined to be
thrown upon the church, which, as it was the direct object of attack,
so under the merciful protection and guidance of Providence, it offered
the first and most decided resistance which arrested the frantic career
of James, and forced on the progress of his despotic attempts upon the
freedom and religion of the nation, to a great and critical deliverance.

The house of peers, led on this occasion by the bench of bishops,
who were supported by the lords Halifax, Nottingham, and Mordaunt,
carried a motion of the bishop of London's for the appointment of a day
to take the king's speech into consideration. These indications of the
sense of the country and of the resistance which was to proceed from
the church, were not confined to the parliament: the spirit, learning,
and eloquence of ecclesiastical writers and preachers were called up,
and sermons and pamphlets were multiplied with extraordinary ability
and effect. Stillingfleet, Patrick, Tillotson, and many other emineni
men, whose works yet hold a standard place in British literature, wield-
ed the pen of controversy with a power which met no adequate opposi-
tion ; and every week brought out some new work which was received
with the most general avidity. The king made a rash attempt to arrest
this torrent in its course, by an order to the bishop of London, for the
suspension of Sharp, the rector of St Giles, who had preached some
controversial sermons. The bishop remonstrated upon the illegality of
the required act, and the king, determined to carry his point, had re-
course to the jurisdiction of the court of ecclesiastical commission;
a court which had not only been abolished but its renewal declared
illegal. The bishop protested against its jurisdiction; he was sent to
the Tower and suspended in his ecclesiastical functions.

The king thus found himself committed in a war with the Church
of England. He attacked the universities of Oxford and Cambridge,
and was foiled at every point by the vigour, firmness, and courage of
these learned bodies. Among the members of the Church of Rome
he was by no means generally supported. The lords of that com-
munion, who were his principal counsellors, did not concur in any of
his rash measures, and in vain remonstrated at every successive step
of a course of which they could not fail to feel the iniquity and to per-
ceive the result. James was ruled by father Petre, a Jesuit, who, like
Rinuncini, was incapable of comprehending any result but that one to
which all his aims were directed. At Rome, where (as has always
been observed) there is by no means the same blind zeal which be-
longs so often to the remoter realms of its spiritual empire, the conduct

of the king was despised and condemned; and this, we are much in-
clined to believe, was aggravated by the Pope's enmity to the Jesuits.
Innocent was a man of very prudent worldly dispositions, and far more
alive to the care of his fiscal interests than ecclesiastical concerns:
of theology he was ignorant, but he was keenly alive to the insults and
offences which he received from the French court, and more offended
by James's sedulous and obsequious cultivation of Louis's friendship
than pleased by his spiritual zeal. He was therefore in reality more
inclined to throw his weight, to the utmost extent which decency
would permit, into the protestant scale, and looked with a more friendly
eye on the interests of the prince of Orange, who, though the champion of
protestantism, was the foe of his foes, than upon the rash and infatuated
measures of the English court, which he was, pro forma, compelled
co sanction, but at the same time treated with all allowable slight.

Among other demonstrations, which, at the same time, showed the
weakness and insincerity of James, was his conduct to the dissenters.
He first let loose upon them the fury of Jefferies, but on coming to a di-
rect quarrel with the church, and finding the want of some popular pre-
text for dispensing with the tests and penalties affecting his own church,
he changed his tone ; he began to speak sounding maxims about the bless-
ings of toleration, of freedom of conscience, and the injustice of all suffer-
ing on the score of religious faith. Thus, as Hume (who is not to be
suspected of a bias towards any creed, or any fixed principle of action
or opinion,) writes, " even such schemes of the king's as might be laud-
able in themselves, were so disgraced by his intentions, that they serve
only to aggravate the charge against him." It was in the prosecution
of his plan for the depression of the church, and effecting his real
object at a stroke, that, in 1 687, he declared a universal toleration, which
did not for a moment deceive any one. Every one understood that
the main bulk of the dissenters were all more at variance with his
church than the church of England; having, indeed, for the most
part, quitted the church of England on the ground of some form or
doctrine, retaining, as they alleged, the savour of popery. Yet even of
these, the most considerable churches, the presbyterian and independent,
especially the former, so far agreed in the articles of their communion
with the English church, that in its downfall they must have seen their
own. From the more leading and reasonable members of these com-
munions the king received no credit, though they were glad to avail
themselves of the indulgence thus obtained. The king had neither
the patience nor the dexterity to conceal his true objects: while he
endeavoured to win the English dissenters, he exhibited his real tem-
per in the denial of his countenance to those of the same communion
in Scotland. His declarations of indulgence too, while they failed to
effect the delusion intended, exposed the spirit in which they were
designed, by indiscreet assertions of illegal power which accompanied
them as a running commentary; "he had thought fit, by his sove-
reign authority, prerogative royal, and absolute power, which all his
subjects were to obey without reserve, to grant this royal toleration."
In the midst of this infatuation, James felt, or more probably it was
continually urged upon him, by those who were less confident than he
in the despotic maxims on which he relied, that to give a permanent

412

T R ANSITION. —POLITICAL.

security to the Romish church, it would be necessary to obtain the sanc-
tion of the legislative body. This he had, from the commencement of his
reign, been vainly endeavouring to obtain; and nothing more plainly
shows the real temper of the nation than his entire absence of success.
Generally, the temper and opinions of the representatives of the nation
are so far divided, and for the most part there is so much ignorance of
constitutional interests, and so much indifference to all but private and
personal interests, that it is not difficult to form a tolerably even balance
in favour of any views of the cabinet; and, unless when some great
national ferment has been raised, it is difficult to conceive a course of
policy so deleterious to constitutional welfare and stability, that cannot
soon be maintained by a sincere, zealous and powerful party, both in
the house and throughout the nation. Such indeed is necessarily the
constitution of public opinion; a thing, if we may so call it, more
many-headed than seems to be generally imagined by those who write
and speak of it; so that it is, as it were, the fictitious deity of journalists
and street rhetoricians. And yet so strong, unanimous, and resolute,
was the universal repugnance to the aims which James had so much at
heart, that his first and most obsequious parliament, who would, if pro-
perly managed, have yielded up every barrier of the constitution, were
found stubborn in this. In vain the king had recourse to the summary
expedient of the quo warranto, and tried by the usurped prerogative of
dissolving-,* renewing, and changing at will the corporations, to command
the boroughs and the magistracy: in vain he continued an illegal juris-
diction to interfere with the privileges of the electors. The result of all
his interferences, tamperings, and closetings, was the same. The
party which he was thus enabled to form did not amount to any assign-
able proportion of tbe constituency anywhere, and he was obliged to
give up the hope.

In this infatuated course of tyrannical but self-destructive efforts,
the king continued to rush forward with something like a judicial
blindness for some years. It is indeed difficult to conceive the degree
of rashness which his whole conduct evinced, without having recourse
to the supposition of an influence behind the throne too great for
ordinary discretion. The probable duration of his life was measured
by his spiritual counsellors against the progress of their wishes; and all
their counsels, directed to the conscience of the feeble and bigoted mon-
arch, were strongly actuated by some sense of the desperation of their
cause. At length matters began to take a more decided turn, and events
occurred which soon precipitated the career of this rash and ill-fated
king. Rather goaded by continued disappointment, and embittered by the
influence of an unceasing controversy with his people, than warned by
instances so decided of the national spirit, the king became more harsh
and peremptory in the assertion of his designs, and took more decided
steps. Of these the most decisive was the attack upon the bishops,
which had the dangerous effect of drawing forth a decided and general
expression of the national sense. In 1688, he published a fresh de-

* The elections in many of the borough towns were by this means placed directly
in the nomination of the crown, or what was the same thing, in that ol its minions.
Such indeed is always the virtual result of any regulation which gives individual* a
power or a preponderating influence over the elections.

RICHARD TALBOT, EARL OF TYRCONNEL. 413

claration of indulgence, to which he added a command, that it should
be read, for two successive Sundays, in all the churches immediately
after divine service. The bishops were commanded to send this
round with the sanction of their authority. The command caused
great alarm, and the bishops and clergy held meetings to consider
what course they should steer in a matter of such pressing emergency.
The enormous power of the crown, when directed against individuals,
was too formidable to be looked upon with defiance: on the opposite
scale, the voice of conscience, the sense of the nation, and the safety
of their church, presented motives of greater weight. In this difficulty
a few less firm advised a compromise — such as, in less trying times,
had often evaded acts of tyranny by an equivocal obedience or a mental
reservation. Against this most disgraceful and unworthy course the
voice of the majority was now raised: it was clearly pointed out that
their ruin was so evidently designed that no compromise could avert
it ; that the obedience now required would be but a step towards this
purpose; that it was useless to consider how far they could safely
comply, as the requisitions upon their compliance were uniformly
precedents for greater demands; and if they must make a stand at
some point, the sooner the better, and the more especially, as these com-
pliances would have the effect of drawing other persons into still
greater compliances, by which at last they might be left in a danger-
ously small party; for they could not reasonably expect the nobility
to sacrifice their own private interests in a struggle for the church, if
the clergy themselves led the way in its abandonment. These, and
other such reasons, operated upon those who required them — the body
of the clergy required no reasoning to actuate their conduct — and
some of the bishops prepared to stand in the gap of the constitution,
and to take that part which the interests of the church and state, as
well as the feelings of the nation, demanded. They resolved that the
declaration should not be read.

The king was not prepared for a step so decided ; some few prelates
who were nothing more than creatures of the court, had deceived him
into the notion that his order would be obeyed by the majority of the
bishops and clergy ; and that from the general submission he might draw
a reasonable pretext for proceeding for contumacy against the recusant
party, and thus a very decided confirmation of his authority would
be obtained. Wbile the court lay still in this delusion created by its
own partisans, the churchmen proceeded with quiet and secret celerity,
to convey their orders, and intimate the course to be pursued to the
clergy throughout the kingdom.

The feeble and indecisive Sancroft then at the head of the English
church, found himself involved in the necessity of leading the march of
resistance; and it may be observed that tbis is of itself a strong indication
of the spirit of the moment, as well as of the strong sense of the emergent
necessity of the occasion ; two years sooner this archbishop would have
given way : he now prepared to act as became the duty of his high station.
Having convened his bishops and clergy and taken their nearly unani-
mous consent, he came with six bishops to London, where they agreed
upon a petition to the king, expressive of the reasons for their resolu-
tion not to obey the late orders of council. They disclaimed any uu-

414 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

willingness that a toleration should be conceded to the dissenters, but
objected to the power by which it was attempted to be done, as laying
both the church and constitution of which it was (then) a part, at the
mercy of an illegal and arbitrary discretion. They expressed their
willingness to consent to any measure to the same effect, which should
be affirmed by the wisdom of the parliament and convocation; and
noticed, that the power involved in such an order had been repeatedly
declared illegal in parliament, in 1662, 1672, and in the beginning of
the present reign.

Sancroft was himself ill, but sent the six bishops, St Asaph, Ely,
Bath and Wells, Peterborough, Chester, and Bristol, to deliver the
petition, which was however drawn up with his own hand. They
were admitted quickly and received by the king with unexpected com-
placency. Deluded to the last, the king was persuaded that their
object was simply to evade the public feeling, by throwing the respon-
sibility of the required obedience upon their chancellors, and that their
petition was only to suggest that it was usual to direct such an order to
these functionaries, instead of to the bishops. The king's good tem-
per was destined to have a speedy reverse; on hearing the actual pe-
tition, his rage and surprise were boundless, and his language was
suitably violent. It was one of his habits to address the most inde-
corous and intemperate language on the most solemn or public
occasions, to all who fell under his displeasure ; and to the bishops his
wrath was now shown by the most unmeasured reproaches. Among
other things he told them " he was their king, and that they should be
made to feel what it was to disobey him," to this the only reply was —
"the will of God be done." Such was the crisis of this blind mon-
arch's fate ; there was no longer room for either party to retract.

For a fortnight matters lay quiet ; the king was himself staggered
by the decisive blow he had struck, and consulted with persons of
every persuasion. The Roman catholic noblemen of his council strong-
ly urged that he should let the matter drop in silence. But this
was repugnant to the character and state maxims of James, who held
that a king should never retract, and that any measure once begun
should be carried through. Father Petre, violent, short-sighted, in-
capable of looking to consequences, and only alive to the fierce impulse
of the conflict, was transported beyond all bounds of decorous reserve
by the hope of a triumph. He said in his joy that the bishops
" should eat their own dung,'' and exerted his entire influence to hurry
on the king in the frantic path on which he needed no spur. The
bishops were cited before the council, and asked if the petition was
theirs : they urged that their own confession should not be brought
against them, and, assuming that a course so unfair would not be
adopted, they acknowledged the petition. They were then charged with
its publication. To this charge they answered that, they had not only
not published it but that all pains had been taken to prevent its being
seen by any one beyond themselves and the king. There had been no
copies taken from the original draught in the archbishop's own hand,
but the one ; and the publication must have proceeded from some one
to whom the king had shown that one. The bishops were then re-

RICHARD TALBOT, EARL OF TYRCONNEL. 415

quired to enter into bonds for their appearance before the king's bench ;
but on pleading their peerage, they were sent to the Tower.

This step caused a ferment in the city, such as, says Burnet, was
never " known in the memory of man." A ferment not soon allayed,
or confined in its immediate effects. The bishops were sent by water
to the Tower; the banks of the river were crowded the entire way
with people, who threw themselves upon their knees, and asked their
blessing as they past along ; the soldiers who were their escort caught
the universal enthusiasm and followed the example of the people. At
the Tower they were received with the same testimonies of reverence
and affection. The king was indignant but unalarmed by demonstra-
tions which should have made him pause and reconsider his course,
had it been other than infatuation — si mens non Iceva fuisset. The
moderate portion of his friends were dismayed and urged moderation
to no purpose; and in two days after, when the queen was delivered
(or said to be delivered) of a son, they pressed it upon him to take the
fair pretext which this event offered, for their release. But the king
was inflexible ; he replied that his authority " would become contempti-
ble if he allowed such an affront to pass unpunished."

A week after their committal they were brought up on a writ of
Habeas Corpus to the bar of the king's bench, and entered into bonds
for their appearance in a fortnight, to answer the charges which should
be brought against them. The trial came on at the appointed time,
and excited a vast commotion of the city, and not less in the army
which lay encamped on Hounslow heath. As the reader is already
aware of the grounds of charge, it will be unnecessary to enter upon the
details of this trial, simple in the character of its proceedings and the
obvious questions at issue, but momentous in its consequences. There
was in fact no ground on which the prosecution had a moment's chance
to stand in any court having the least pretence to be called a court of
justice. Williams and Powis, who conducted the case for the crown,
found some thing to say, as advocates must and will. The only evidence
against the bishops was their own confession ; and the publication could
not by any reach of ingenuity be brought home to them. Their right
to petition could not be shaken by any argument sufficient to satisfy the
most courtly understanding that had any pretence to sit there ; and had
the judges forgotten themselves so far, there was a jury. The people
of England stood at the door; its first nobility crowded the court; the
atmosphere of influence and corruption was excluded; and the justice
of British law took its untrammelled course. The principal charge was
that the petition was a libel against the king's government ; to which it
was replied, that the bishops had not only, in common with all sub-
jects, a right to petition the king; but as peers they had a right to
offer their counsel; and, being spiritual peers, more especially in mat-
ters of ecclesiastical concern; that having been required to act in
direct violation of the law, and of their own ideas of the obligations of
conscience and duty, they had a right to offer their reasons. It was
also strongly argued that the dispensing power claimed by the king
had been, by many votes of parliament, declared illegal, and that the
point had been given up by the late king.

416 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

The trial lasted ten hours. The jury were quickly agreed upon
their verdict, but they considered it prudent to make some show of pro-
! longed deliberation. They therefore remained shut up till morning.

The crowd continued all this time in anxious suspense ; the king, with
the impetuosity of his temper, had not allowed the fear of defeat to
approach him. Early the next morning he went out to Hounslow Heath,
considering his presence necessary to repress the temper which had
upon that occasion manifested itself in the army. While he was there,
the joyful acclamations of the city on the announcement of the bishops'
acquittal rose loudly on the air, and was heard with no great com-
placency by the royal persecutor. His presence kept the troops silent;
but he no sooner turned to leave them than their irrepressible joy
broke forth. On hearing their tumultuous cheers, the king stopped
to ask the cause : " Nothing but the acquittal of the bishops, which
has reached them," was the simple but astounding answer. " Call you
that nothing," said James; "but it shall be worse for them."

King James had little weighed his force, or the power with which
he had thus rashly committed his strength; and he was not to be
warned by defeat. He was like a personage described by Milton, who

" For very spite
Still will be tempting him who foils him still,
And never cease, though to his shame the more."

From the shame of defeat his pride and self-will only collected accu-
mulated inveteracy ; and he now resolved to show his contempt for the
triumph of the bishops by transferring the same violence to the inferior
clergy. But they too, had this lesson been wanting, had learned their
strength, and seen the impotence of their persecutor. The chan-
cellors and archdeacons of the dioceses were requested to send in a
list of the clergy who had disobeyed and resisted the order of council.
They refused to comply. And the bishop of Rochester, who had
hitherto sat with the court of commission, declined to sit with them
any longer. In consequence, this illegal court adjourned for some
months, and never sat again.

These affairs were not, in their results, confined to England; but
caused a profound sensation in every part of Europe ; and it was gener-
ally considered, as it really was, a contest for victory between the
crown and the church. The constitution of England was actually in
the very crisis of a struggle between its higher and more vital powers ;
the rights of the nation, its liberties, its laws, and its religion, were
quivering in the balance against those pervading and all-grasping
powers of spiritual tyranny, on which the principles of the most
crushing despotism reposed. In this awful juncture, the church
and the courts of justice had held their ground; but two of the
judges were dismissed on suspicion of having favoured the bishops,
and the powers of the constitution were giving way to a more detailed
system of attack — the magistracy had been changed and the corpo-
rations tampered with. The local authorities were easily taken in
detail. The king's assumed power to dispense with laws and the
disabilities they created, met no power to resist them in the provinces,
and there were mayors and sheriffs everywhere to secure the king's
interest at the next election. It is indeed p'ain enough that if not

forcibly interrupted by some external force, or by some exertion of
that ultimate right which subsists in the people, in such cases of ex-
tremity, even the imprudence of James would not have been sufficient
to prevent the victory he sought over the liberties of the nation; had
he been allowed to proceed, experience would have been the result of
failure, and fraud would have at last obtained what direct violence
was found unequal to wrest from the courage of a people who are
alive to a sense of their constitutional rights.

James had himself begun to feel that something more than violence
was essential to the desired subjugation of the national spirit; and
though confiding much in his own sense of the sacred and indefeasible
powers of the crown, he did not altogether remit his endeavours to
win the consent of every party. To the exertion of compulsory means
he added all the fraud of which he was master, and stopped at no
resource of falsehood or circumvention within his power. Having
endeavoured to cajole every party and sect by promises, which few had
the weakness to believe; when hie professions failed to impose, he soon
exposed his game by the abruptness with which he changed from flat-
tery to persecution.

Amid these dangers, the hopes of the nation were turned to the illus-
trious prince of Orange, who, by his many eminent moral and intellec-
tual endowments had obtained an unusual ascendancy in the European
system ; being at this time universally looked to as the centre of the
protestant interests on the Continent. Equally opposed to the grasp-
ing and ambitious projects of Louis XIV., both by the political interest
of his own country, and by religious principle, he had succeeded in or-
ganizing a formidable combination of the most powerful of the crowned
heads and small independencies which then constituted no inconsid-
erable portion of the European states. As his wife was the next in
succession to the British throne, until the recent event of the queen's
delivery of a son; and as even after that there remained still no in-
considerable chance of her reversionary right, the prince, thus recom-
mended by the double consideration of a common interest and a common
religion, was naturally turned to in this season of urgent distress. He
was pressed by the urgent applications of many public bodies and
many individuals of rank, weight, and public influence, to hasten his in-
terference. He was himself not an indifferent spectator of the progress
of events; but a sense of justice, his respect for the filial tenderness of
his princess, with the delicacy of his own relationship to the king, and
also the immediate position of the system of politics in which he was
then engaged, all contributed to restrain his conduct. He neverthe-
less was far from remiss, but continued to keep an earnest and vigilant
attention to every turn of affairs in England. In this he was aided by
the constant influx of intelligence from all the protestant parties; but
he found a still more certain guide to the thorough comprehension of all
the evolutions of the king's cabinet, and also an able and intelligent
adviser, in that well known and sound divine and political historian,
Dr Gilbert Burnet, whose independent and active spirit made him
an object of strong dislike to king James, so that he soon began to
feel himself unsafe in England, and took refuge in Holland where
he was protected by the prince, to whom he quickly became a most

II. 2 d Ir.

ready and influential adviser: thus indeed taking a greater share
in the events of his time, than, from the nature of his agency, ap-
pears on the face of general history.

The prince's attention had first been called to the affairs of England
by the king's anxiety to obtain the sanction of his consent to the abolition
of the tests and the confirmation of his dispensing power; this he thought
would not only influence the sense of parliament, but afford the best
security for the permanence of those changes which he was endeavour-
ing to bring about. With such views he gave the prince reason to
expect the assistance of England in his Continental engagements.
This strong temptation had been resisted by the prince, who, with a
due sense of the machinations of his father-in-law, and of the necessity
of the test to the preservation of the protestant religion in England,
refused to concede more than his consent to a general toleration
in favour of dissenters. The king, still anxious to obtain a more full
concurrence, continued to push his object by a protracted correspon-
dence with the pensionary, Fagel, who at last returned a full statement
of the views entertained on the subject both by the prince and princess:
in this paper he drew the important distinction between penal persecu-
tions on the score of conscientious opinion, and the mere exclusion
from offices ; which latter he deemed to be not in the nature of punish-
ment, but simply a necessary security for the established worship, under
such circumstances, and from the interposition of such opinions as
might endanger its safety. To recognise the necessity of such a security
at that period, it is only necessary for the reader to call to recollection
the history of the churches in that age when the persecution of the
Huguenots had not merely aroused the fears of the protestant states, but
given a tangible reality and substance to the object of those fears. The
publication of Fagel's letter produced a very considerable effect upon
all parties in England. To the protestants it imparted firmness,
concentration, and spirit; it excited at once the enmity, and called
forth the active hostility of the king. He entered into an amicable
understanding with the Algerines, who then infested the Dutch marine,
and gave them a friendly refuge in his harbours ; he recalled his
subjects from the prince's service, and began to strengthen his navy
with no doubtful intentions.

The prince was not remiss ; he sent over Dykvelt, his envoy, to re-
monstrate in behalf of the English protestants, and at the same time to
feel the pulse of the nation, and cultivate every favourable inclination.
The correspondence with Holland soon began to grow frequent and
important; the Hague became a general resort for all whom appre-
hension or discontent drove from England; Admiral Herbert took up
his residence there, and Admiral Russell made himself the means of
keeping open a free communication. In England, all parties but that
small one for whom the king was hazarding his throne, united in
the common cause. Faction, which the slightest shade of difference in
creed or form is enough to raise to all its intensity, was consigned to a
temporary repose ; the larger and more influential portion of the English
peerage, spiritual and lay, concurred in their appeals to the prince ; and
applications too authoritative to be slighted, and too earnest to be re-
sisted, came pouring in from every quarter. Many lesser incidents.

RICHARD TALBOT, EARL OF TYRCONNEL. 419

which our space has not permitted us to notice, added motives to the
national appeal, and at length the prince became convinced that the
interests of England, as well as of his own country, lay in the same
course, and he resolved to follow the path thus pointed out.

His preparations had been already commenced, from the moment that
his intercourse with James had assumed a hostile turn; the strengthen-
ing of his navy had become a matter of prudence, and the military char-
acter of his continental eng-agements rendered such a course both easy
and little liable to be suspected. Availing himself of these circum-
stances, he completed his preparations with discretion and vigour, and
at the fortunate moment, when the mind of England was agitated by
the persecution of the six bishops, it was understood by all whose
privity to his purpose was desirable, that the prince was on his way
to England.

The king of France, by his interference, added resolution to the
Dutch, offended the preposterous dignity of James, and filled England
with a fear of being filled with Frenchmen, and betrayed to the am-
bition of Louis. King James, in the mean time, continued obstinate
and incredulous. His understanding could not open itself to the con-
ception of any invasion of those rights which he considered indefea-
sible; yet, besides the resistance he had found in the various civil and
ecclesiastical authorities, he at this time received intimations of his real
helplessness, which would have been warnings to a more prudent mind.
His navy had nearly mutinied, because their admiral, Strictland, had a
mass celebrated on board his ship ; and, at the same time, declared that
they would not fight the Dutch, whom they called " friends and brethren."
A still more marked and fatal demonstration occurred in the conduct
of his army. He made a plan to obtain the consent of the troops to
the repeal of the test and penal statutes, by taking the regiments
separately. His general, the earl of Litchfield, accordingly drew out
a battalion in the presence of the king, and told them what was re-
quired of them, with the alternative of laying down their arms. The
battalion immediately (with the exception of two captains and a few
men) laid down their arms. James was completely unprepared for
such a consequence, and gloomily commanding them to resume their
arms, he assured them " that for the future he would not do them the
honour to apply for their approbation."

During this emergency, Tyrconnel, who was pushing forward the
king's views in Ireland with a hand retarded by no scruple, is asserted to
have been the first to communicate decided intelligence of the imminent
danger. This we do not believe, but think it probable that he was
among the first to obtain decided intelligence. Such a warning would
indeed have produced but little influence upon the indomitable folly of
James. He had, early during the prince's preparations, received a
letter of a more authoritative nature from the hand of his own minis-
ter at the Hague, and in the extremity of his terror, made a late
effort, which only showed his feebleness and his fears, to retrace his
steps. He offered to enter into an alliance with the Dutch; he re-
placed the lieutenants of counties who had been dismissed for adhering
to the test and penal laws ; he restored charters, and annulled the ec-
clesiastical commission court; he released the bishop of London from

420 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

the suspension under which he had been suffered to remain, and rein-
stated the president and fellows of Magdalen College. Such attempts
at conciliation were late, and only drew upon him the contempt of all
parties. The bishops, to whom in his terror he condescended to use
flattery and protestations, sternly reminded him of his tyranny and
misgovernment, and advised him for the future to be more select in
his advisers. Notwithstanding all this appearance of terrified con-
cession it is generally believed that upon some momentary rumour
of the wreck of the Dutch fleet, he was on the point of recalling
all these illusory retractations. But neither his pertinacious folly, nor
his affectation of repentance, was to have any further effect to retard
the approach of that retribution which he had so effectually drawn
down: the measure of his crimes and infatuation was complete.

We do not feel it necessary to enter upon the relation of the subse-
quent incidents of this great event as connected with English history,
but have felt ourselves compelled to go so far as we have written, in a
general statement of their immediate causes, as the most clear and just
method of meeting the numerous mis-statements of the party writers,
who have maintained their opinions by the very usual method of nar-
rowing the subject. The warfare of accusation and recrimination has
been, as too frequently occurs among the writers of the last century upon
Irish history, merely a battle of posts: single facts, and circumstances
merely local, affording the entire materials of a controversy, in
which the real merits of the question assumed to be under discussion,
are, to a very great extent, shut out of view. The rancorous contest
which was carried on in Ireland by two parties, violently imbittered
against each other, by a long- and furious contest of rights, and mutual
or alternate injuries, which in countries more advanced would have
been forgotten, exhibits a tissue of crimes and sufferings on either
side, complicated bevond any power of analysis to disentangle ; and
affords abundant matter for the strong details of King and Borlase, 01
for the acrimonious compilations of Curry,* without in any way trans-
gressing' the line between fiction and truth. Such statements as these
which such writers contain, would now be much softened and balanced
by the better portion of their authors, and many strong' extenuations
would be found for the actors of those fearful times. It would be
perceived that neither the crimination of unpaid protestant soldiers
for such crimes as the soldiers of every party are prone to commit,
nor the defence of the rash acts by which king James interfered to
break down the protestant ascendancy in Ireland, in the remotest
degree contain the real cpiestions attempted to be thus settled. When
the reader, however, looks upon the true character of king James,
and his whole subversive policy, his rejection of all principle, his

* We do not of course mean here to bring- these writers into any comparison. King
may justly be viewed among the greatest men of his time. His views are by no mean*
narrowed ; but his statement abounds with such details as must always occur in the
representations of those who are eye-witnesses of the events they relate. The de-
ference is this ; King's facts are illustrations and instances of the real respective
positions of the actors then on the stage of events; Curry's are altogether irrelevant
to the great transactions then in their course, and being exclusive of all the ques-
tions really at issue, serve no end but the most pernicious and exasperating misre-
presentation of history.

contempt of all right, his monstrous acts of despotic injustice, his base
hypocrisy, and flagitious falsehood, and the avowed object of all this
baseness and violence, he must comprehend that the question, how far
the members of the Romish persuasion had a claim to certain rights,
either in precedent or natural justice, is altogether nugatory. The
precedent maybe admitted, and the natural right be allowed, but the act
of imaginary justice will be seen to spring" from the most wicked and
dangerous conspiracy, to enslave a great people, and destroy the civil
rights and the religion which they revered and loved. It was no time
for acts of justice; it is not upon the verge of battle that questions of
national equity are to be canvassed; however just it may have been to
admit the Romish laity to corporate rights, or even to equalize them with
those of the opponent communion, the act was designed and adapted
to effect a wicked, ruinous, and unjustifiable end. The measures by
which justice might be consulted, had ends far different from justice ;
and it certainly should not be demanded, that the protestants of that
day were to stop to concede rights and immunities, of which the
avowed design was to wrest from them all that they possessed. The
contest was, in effect, one between king- James and his kingdom: the
indignity of the protestant church was its direct and immediate object.
In Ireland the schemes of the tyrant were carried on with more fierce de-
termination, and theif true intent well understood; and there was, con-
currently with this general sense, the natural terror of one party, the
anticipated triumph of the other, and the many hostile feelings and
restrictions of both. The rights of men, and the conflict of reason and
statement, were not seriously relied upon by either, and behind the ques-
tions which were hung out to give speciousness to the partisans of a
tyrant, there were other views, of which his advocates say nothing.
Such are, in our view, the considerations which render it expedient to
look upon the events of the revolution in England, as the just commentary
upon the Irish history of the same period. The question then at issue,
was neither one of detailed grievances, nor yet was it one of abstract
right. It was, and ought ever to be, like all great questions, resolved
with a view to the general rights and interests of the nation, and to
the character and principles of the claimants. In the abstract there
was no reason against a popish judge or a popish corporation, but they
were justly referred to certain well known and not concealed princi-
ples, to certain hopes of an ulterior nature, and to a dangerous and
unconstitutional relation with certain unconstitutional authorities
greater than the law. Such reasons, while they existed, made general
positions such as are applied to these questions, ridiculous. The
transfer of land was the popular excitement of the Irish party of that
day, and no one can pretend to doubt but they must have obtained
their end had they been enabled to pursue the means adopted.

It would, indeed, be for the benefit of Ireland, if such details as
exhibit to either party the frightful tablet of the injuries which they
have received from the other, had never been written; for, while the
inferences to which such details must ever lead, are inconclusive, their
effect in creating and keeping alive animosities is fearful. Had not
the bitterness of the 17th century been industriously propagated — had
not dangerous positions been kept alive, the protestants and papists of

422 TRANSITION— POLITICAL.

the present century might have found some difficulty in discovering'
the grounds of that civil inequality, which, till recently, has existed.
We are aware of all that might be replied to this assertion, but we
write after much and long deliberation.

We have now very fully stated to our readers the reasons for which
we shall continue to lay before them the acts of the main parties, and
the leading events during this period, with the least possible reference
to the detail of local and personal inflictions and sufferings.

The news of William's landing in England brought with it a sudden
change of spirit on either side. The leaders of the king's party were
terrified — the protestants were raised from their dejection. Under the
government of Tyrconnel they had been nearly prostrated by the most
severe and merciless persecution; and the last hand had been put to
their ruin, by their having been disarmed, and in their defenceless state
exposed to the licensed assaults and robberies of the low and savage
banditti, to whom the lord-lieutenant handed over the country. Tyr-
connel now, like his master, thought proper to court the party which
he had roused to the fiercest and most uncompromising hostility. He
flattered them with audacious lies, and endeavoured to draw a testimony
to his character and government which he hoped might have shielded
his person and government from the justice which seemed to be visibly
impending. In this expectation he was quickly undeceived. The pro-
testants assumed a silent attitude of menace ; the seizure of the castle
was proposed: but it was hoped that the course of events would now
give them the desired relief, and that Tyrconnel would fly the country.
Tyrconnel had recourse to measures of desperation ; he let loose the
armed rabble under his command upon the country, and fearful crimes
were committed. The public agitation was suddenly awakened to
tenfold terror, by a report industriously spread, of a conspiracy to
massacre the protestants of Ireland. The alarm was terrific : the timid
multitude, of every age, and sex, and condition, left their homes, and
crowded to the shores and quays, in the vain hope to find vessels to
convey them from the scene of apprehended carnage. Tyrconnel sent
to assure them of their safety, but they refused to be convinced.

Every effort was at the same time made to keep up the courage of
the Irish party. Tyrconnel's zeal and resolution appear to have suf-
fered no abatement from the desperation of his cause; but his ability
was unequal to a crisis in which nobler courage and more adequate
judgment could have been of little avail. His activity only served to
precipitate the downfall of the interests he had so perseveringly laboured
to sustain. He recalled to Dublin the troops, which served for the mo-
ment to repress the spirit of the north; and Enniskillen and London-
derry gave a powerful example to the protestant body through Ireland,
and a memorable and glorious record of heroic courage and constancy
to history. We thus passingly advert to these memorable events, be-
cause we must at this period take up the thread of history in the suc-
ceeding memoir, to which we are now endeavouring to hasten. The
life of Tyrconnel derives its chief importance from the succession of
events of which he was a principal agent, and having so far availed
ourselves of his life, we shall now dismiss him as briefly as we can.

For a moment king William was persuaded that Tyrconnel might

RICHARD TALBOT, EARL OF TYRCONNEL. 423

be gained to his side; but Tyrconnel knew well enough that, deserted
by the adventitious recommendations of his position as the leader of the
Irish party, and the favoured agent of a cause which demanded his
principles, he must have quickly fallen into contempt. He was, perhaps,
in some respects sincere; but whether he was or not, the price of per-
fidy would have been low, compared with the rewards of success, and of
success it is evident that Tyrconnel did not despair. William encour-
aged by the representations of Richard Hamilton, sent him over to
gain Tyrconnel, but Hamilton took the opposite part, and laboured to
give firmness to Tyrconnel's resolution of resistance.

It was, however, under the circumstances, necessary to dissemble
with the protestants, and dissimulation was carried so far as to send a de-
putation with a pretended commission, to remonstrate with James in
Paris, against any farther resistance towards the prince of Orange.
This mission is remarkable for the craft and treachery of its contriv-
ance and conduct. Lord Mountjoy was sent, charged with such a
direct and open message as suited the overt professions of Tyrconnel.
Rice, chief baron of the exchequer, was associated with him, and con-
veyed the real purposes of his false and double-dealing employer. On
their arrival in Paris, Mountjoy was seized and incarcerated in the
Bastile. Rice gave representations adapted to encourage the hopes
of James, and to induce the French king to be liberal in his aid.

Tyrconnel was himself encouraged by the success of his messenger,
and casting aside all fear, pressed on in the course he had adopted for
the depression of the opposite party. To complete the disarming of
the protestant body, before the occurrence of any trial of strength in the
field, was his policy, and it was pursued with the savag-e and remorse-
less barbarity which the reader of the foregoing pages might be 'ed
to anticipate. He was universally charged with treacherv, but he
bluntly denied the instructions which he had given to lord Mountjoy- -
a denial which deceived no one on either side.

On the )2th March, 1689, James landed at Kinsale, high in that
confidence which seems to have been the result of an entire want of
all calculation of the consequences of events and circumstances. He
was met by Tyrconnel, to whom he gave the title of Duke.

We may now dismiss the subject of this memoir, as the succeeding
occurrences which have their place in the remaining- short interval of
his life, will come more appropriately under other names. The events
of the struggle which have now to be related, were so entirely military,
that Tyrconnel held but a very subordinate position in the course of
affairs. Shortly after the battle of Aughrim, he reached Limerick,
together with Sarsfield, who conducted thither the shattered remains
of the army under his command. There, a difference of opinion arose
between himself and Sarsfield, as to the further course they should
pursue. Sarsfield was for a continuance of military operations, but
Tyrconnel saw that the chances of resistance were for the time at an
end. He died a few days after his arrival, on the 14th, 1691, andhia
death was generally attributed to vexation and a broken spirit.

424 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

REV. GEORGE WALKER, GOVERNOR OF LONDONDERRY.

BORN ABOUT A.D. 1617 — KILLED A.D. 1691.

The great struggle to which the events in the preceding memoir may
be held as preliminary, was destined to be terminated by a personal
conflict between the heads of the adverse interests on the banks of the
Boyne ; and we preserve the order of events by giving a summary ac-
count of them from the landing of James until that decisive fight in
the course of the present memoir.

From a small but compendious account written by the Rev. John
Graham, we learn the few following particulars respecting the family
history of the hero of Londonderry. His father was appointed to a
benefice in Derry in 1 630, and in a few years after, obtained the rec-
tory of Cappagh in the county of Tyrone ; from which he was further
preferred to the chancellorship of Armagh. He had a son and a
daughter; the son George Walker was " instituted to the rectories of
Donaghmore and Erigal Keerogal, in the county of Tyrone," in March,
1662.* He was educated in the college of Glasgow.

Of this brave man the history is wrapped in comparative obscurity,
until we arrive at the last few glorious and eventful years of his long
life, spent, we have every reason to believe, in the strenuous practice of
the less ambitious but not less exalted and elevating duties of a christian
pastor. Thus presenting an eminent instance of the truth, that those
divine precepts and that holy spirit which inculcates and imparts humili-
ty and charity, can, when the cause of God and the call of the country
demand, send the hero to stand in the breach, and lead soldiers and
patriots to their desperate and devoted duty. If it be said in abate-
ment of these reflections, that George Walker was naturally of a busy
and ambitious temper, and however noble was his service on that
emergent hour of national peril, yet that it was his military taste which
spurred him to the honourable post he filled; we must deny the infer-
ence: in the following memoir there will be amply found the evi-
dence of a nobler spirit. But there is one preliminary observation
which must to all reflecting minds render superfluous all further
evidence on this question: when George Walker left his ministerial
duties, to take the lead in that dreadful and trying scene of danger and
privation, of heroic patience and daring, he was seventy-one years of
age. For nearly half a century he had pursued the homely and retired
path of a minister of God's word, in a country resounding on every
side with the din of arms. In the strength and energy of his four-
and-twentieth year he saw the troubles of the great rebellion, when
there was every temptation for the enterprising-, and when the safest
refuge was in arms. But Walker's bold and leading spirit was not
either tempted or driven to the field. It was when the sacred ram-
parts of the protestant church were assailed, that the soldier of Christ
stood up in the very path of his duty to lay down his life, if so required,
in its defence. It may perhaps be alleged by many a pious christian

* Memoir of Walker by the Rev. J. Graham,-— 1832.

REY. GEORGE WALKER. 42^

reader, that even in such a case the consecrated teacher of the word
of charity should have taken a different course ; we are not here con-
cerned to deny the affirmation ; Walker may have erred, — we think not;
but all that is here required is the inference that his error, if such, had
origin in a sense of duty, in a moment so critical and appalling,
that it may well have been permitted to the Christian, like Peter, to
draw the sword of the flesh, when the enemies of the Lord were come
up with swords and staves to do him violence. Rather let the pious
Christian believe that the minister of Donaghmore was the approved
soldier of Him, to whom victory must be ascribed.

At the breaking out of the contests of this period, the citizens of
Derry and the protestants of the north looked with great and declared
satisfaction on the protection which they anticipated in the presence of
a protestant commander, many of whose soldiers were also protestants.
Sir William Stewart, Viscount Mountjoy, had distinguished himself and
received two dangerous wounds in fighting in the Imperial service
against the Turks, had on his return to Ireland, in 1687, obtained the
rank of general of brigade, and, being of Scotch descent, an earnest
protestant, and his family connected for nearly half a century with
the military government of Derry, his appointment to the military com-
mand in Ulster procured the exemption of that province from the
general disarming of the protestants which obtained elsewhere in
Ireland. Accordingly, when the fearful rumour of an intended massacre
of the protestants, prepared in desperation by Tyrconnel, on the success
of the landing of William in England becoming known, spread wild and
uncontrollable dismay among the defenceless crowd in Leinster and
other protestant districts, it only aroused in the north to a firm uncom-
promising resolution of self-defence. In his first alarm at the state of
matters in England, Tyrconnel had determined to reunite all the troops
under the command of Mountjoy with its garrison for the defence of
Dublin. But on learning the spirit and defensive preparations of Ulster
following their removal, he hastily endeavoured to repair the error by
placing garrisons anew in the frontier towns, and by directing that a
newly raised regiment, entirely composed of papists, under the Earl of
Antrim, should take up its quarters in Londonderry, which was at this
time filled with refugees apprehensive of the imaginary massacre.
These apprehensions now fearfully presented themselves to their minds,
and on learning that the dreaded regiment had already reached New-
town-Limavaddy, twelve miles distant, a resolution to resist its entrance
began to be diffused among the citizens ; and before night a plan had
been concerted between Horatio Kennedy, one of the sheriffs, and a few
youths of Scottish extraction, ever since commemorated by the honour-
able appellation of the " Prentice Boys of Derry," for mastering the
guard, seizing the keys, raising the drawbridge, and locking the gate
at the ferry of the river on the occasion of the regiment approaching
next day and attempting to enter the town, which was successfully
carried out on Friday the 7th December, 1688. Like the other cor-
porations of Ireland, that of Londonderry had just been arbitrarily
remodelled. The magistrates were men of low station and character;
among them was only one person of Anglo-Saxon extraction, and he
had turned papist. A contemporaneous epic poem in its praise, quoted

426 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

by Lord Macaulay, who says its writer had evidently a minute know-
ledge of the city, runs thus —

" For burgesses and freemen they had chose
Brogue-makers, butchers, raps, and such as those;
In all the corporation not a man
Of British parents, except Buchanan."

And this Buchanan is afterwards described as

"A knave all o'er,
For he had learned to tell his beads before. "

The bishop, Ezekiel Hopkins, resolutely adhering to the doctrine of
nonresistance, which he had preached during many years, had aided
with his influence this rabble corporation in counselling submission to
the warrant enjoining reception of the soldiery, and in expostulating
against the subsequent measures for securing the city, and against
inviting to its defence the protestant gentlemen of the neighbouring
counties, who promptly responded to the summons, arriving by hundreds
on horseback and on foot by various roads. But the daring young
Scotchmen who had taken the lead on this occasion, had little respect
for his office, and interrupted his oration, remarking that there was
then no time but for action. The corporation was substituted by their
predecessors in office, and the bishop retired from the city. Tyr-
connel, on learning this, was alarmed, and sent Mountjoy back, ac-
companied by Lieutenant-colonel Lundy with six companies, and with
orders to reduce the city. Instead, however, of attacking, Viscount
Mountjoy negotiated with the authorities of the city, who had in
the interval made preparations for defence, and despatched letters to
William and the Irish Society of London imploring aid by a gentle-
man of reputation called David Cairnes, who, by the weight of his
character and representations, had greatly influenced the opinion of
the inhabitants, at first doubtful and timid, to follow up the act of
the " Prentice Boys by these measures. This negotiation resulted
in the city being allowed to retain its protestant garrison, and the
citizens their arms, with assurance of a pardon under the great seal,
for the act of resistance, and two sons of Mountjoy remaining as
pledges in the city. Phillips, the restored governor, who had succeeded
the venerable granduncle, commemorated in these pages,* of Lord
Mountjoy, freely resigned his powers to the grandnephew, and the
latter entered with spirit into all the wishes of the citizens, and
exerted all his talent and skill to secure the defence of the city.
Although these proceedings could not fail to attract the jealous atten-
tion of Tyrconnel, yet the more dangerous attitude of the protestant
party made it imperative to proceed with some caution. Perhaps, as
Lord Macaulay thinks, for a moment Tyrconnel really wavered in his
hopes. It is certain he opened a communication with the Prince of
Orange, and professed himself willing to yield, and that William, advised
by his most influential Irish friends in meeting assembled, was induced
to send an agent of unquestionable influence, and who undertook to

* Sir Robert Stewart, vol. ii. p. 363.

REV. GEORGE WALKER. 427

bring it to a successful issue, to negotiate a capitulation on terms hon-
ourable for all, and that should arrest the calamities that seemed to be
impending. But before the arrival of this envoy of peace, the hesita-
tion of Tyrconnel, whether genuine or feigned, was at an end. The
rumour that the Viceroy was corresponding with the English had set
the natives on fire ; and the cry of the common people was, that if
lie dared to sell them for wealth and honours, they would burn the
castle and him in it, and would put themselves under the protection of
France. Tyrconnel now protested that he had pretended to negotiate
only for the purpose of gaining time. Yet before he declared openly
what must be a war to the death against the English settlers, and
against England herself, he was at considerable loss how to rid himself
of Mountjoy, who, although true to the cause of James up till now,
would, it was well known, never be a consenting party to the spoliation
and murder of the colonists. The wonderful dexterity of the man,
however, suggested to him the plan referred to at the close of the
preceding memoir,* by which he might at one and the same time
thoroughly deceive the Irish protestants, and remove out of the way a
commander whom he could not trust, until he had matured his arrange-
ments to hand over Ireland to James and Romanism. A double-tongued
embassy to the late King of England warned him by the mouth of one
ambassador, of the foolishness and hopelessness of further attempt to
recover possession of Ireland, and counselled submission to its occupa-
tion by England. The tongue that spoke this message was Lord
Mountjoy 's, and its voice chiming with his own convictions he believed
it sincere. Another ambassador accompanied him whose mouth told
a different tale, more truly sincere because more true.

Before leaving for Paris, Lord Mountjoy sent a statement of the
considerations which induced the act to his friends in the north, en-
closing copy of stipulations which Tyrconnel had passed his word of
honour to observe, to the effect that no change in the statu quo should
take place in Ulster during his absence in matters military or civil ; sti-
pulations which the latter did not and never meant to observe. On
his arrival at Paris, Viscount Mountjoy was immediately imprisoned
by the French authorities at the solicitation of James, and shut up in
the Bastile, where he remained upwards of four years. It was unfor-
tunate for the protestants of Derry, that, in accepting this mission,
Mountjoy left Lieutenant-colonel Lundy in command of that city, a
man either entirely devoted to the cause of James, or, as Lord Macaulay
suggests, so faint-hearted and poor in spirit as to have given up all
thought of serious resistance when, some time after, an Irish army was
despatched by Tyrconnel under the command of Eichard Hamilton, a
double traitor to his friends and to his military parole of honour, in
order to subjugate the north before aid could arrive from England.
As soon as the two envoys had departed, Tyrconnel set himself to pre-
pare for the conflict, which had become inevitable. The whole Irish
nation was called to arms, and the call was obeyed with strange promp-
titude and enthusiasm. The flag on the castle of Dublin was em-
broidered with the words " now or never : now and for ever : "

* See page 423.

428 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

and these words resounded through the whole island. ''Never in Eu-
rope," says Lord Macaulay, " has there been such a rising up of a whole
people. The peasantry had during three years been exasperated by the
application of religious and patriotic stimulants. The priests, most of
whom belonged to the old families which had been ruined by the Act
of Settlement, but which were still revered by the native population,
charged every Catholic to show his zeal for his church by providing
weapons. The army, which under Ormonde had only consisted of
eight regiments, was now increased to forty-eight; and the ranks were
soon filled to overflowing." No man dared to present himself at mass
without a weapon of some kind or other. A day was fixed on which every
protestant was required to bring every sword or gun to the parish
church, and the house in which, after that day, any weapon was found,
being inhabited by a protestant, was given to be sacked by the soldiery.
Then came a destruction of property as reckless as the world ever saw.
During the few weeks of Lent, the French ambassador reported to his
master 50,000 horned cattle, and, popular report added, 4 to 500,000
sheep, uselessly butchered, were rotting on the ground all over the
country. It was utterly impossible for the English settlers to resist
an outbreak so terrible as this. Every place in the south in which
they had mustered for common defence fell into the hands of the
papists. The fastnesses of the gentry were either given up, or burned
by the owners, who, with such valuables as they could carry, set out,
armed and mounted, for the secured spots in Ulster.

We shall now proceed directly with the train of circumstances more
immediately belonging to the siege of Derry. The northern protes-
tants having generally agreed in the determination to stand up in
their own defence, directions were circulated among the most influential
or competent persons for the steps which appeared most immediately
desirable for such a purpose. Among others, Walker received at his
rectory of Donaghmore some communications urging the necessity
of securing Dungannon. He acted promptly upon the suggestion, and
at once raised a regiment for the purpose. He considered the neces-
sity of preserving- this communication between that town and London-
derry, to which city he repaired, for the purpose of consulting with
Lundy who then commanded there. Lundy seemed at first to enter
into the spirit of the country, and without any hesitation agreed with
the brave rector of Donaghmore, and sent some companies to
strengthen Dungannon. Two days after, however, orders were sent
from Lundy to break up the garrison at Dungannon. We only men-
tion these incidents as plainly manifesting the temper and spirit which
governed Lundy's actions, and appeared more decidedly in the course
of events.

On the 20th March, captain James Hamilton arrived from England
with 680 barrels of powder, and arms for 2000 men. He brought to
Lundy the king's and queen's commission as governor of the town, with
instructions for swearing into office the different civil and military
officers, and promises of speedy assistance. The king and queen were
then proclaimed in the city. The remainder of the month and the
beginning of April were spent in active prejmrations for an expected
siege. It was on the 13th of April that Mr Walker received accounta

of the approach of the enemy, and immediately rode to Londonderry
to apprize Lundy of the information. Lundy received the intelligence
with slight, and pretended to treat it as a false alarm. Walker re-
turned to Lifford, and the same evening the Irish army came in
sight at Clodyford.* On their presence being ascertained, several
persons, among whom David Cairnes is chiefly mentioned, urged Lundy
to secure the passes of Fin water, that the enemy might not get over
before the city should be ready for its defence. Lundy replied that his
orders were already given. Having already betrayed every post over
which he possessed either authority or influence, he now exercised his
authority for tbe betrayal of the last trust committed to him, and hav-
ing, as he hoped, by treacherous dispositions of the resources of the
garrison, provided for the betrayal of the city, he had in this also,
taken the most efficient means in his power to prevent any interrup-
tion to the approach of its enemy. But the firmness of its defenders,
in some measure, baffled this treachery. King'James' fcroops under
Hamilton and Pasignan, were directed immediately to ford the river
at Clodyford. Here they should have been stopped by Lundy, who on
the 14th took the command of the troops destined to oppose their
passage: as they approached he pretended to distrust the courage of
his men, and made a precipitate retreat to Derry. The enemy ad-
vanced to Lifford, where they met a spirited and efficient resistance
through the whole night, from colonel Crofton and captain Hamilton.
In the morning they were joined by Walker, who then, according to
his orders from Lundy, proceeded to take his post at the long
causeway, and colonel Crofton remained to maintain the advanced
post against the enemy. Their ammunition being spent, the soldiers
under Crofton were compelled to retreat : they were necessarily
joined by Walker's companies, and both effected an orderly retreat
into Derry, to the number of 1,000 men. Walker immediately
waited on governor Lundy, and strongly urged that he should lead
out the whole garrison with the troops, on this occasion, added to
their force, and take the field against the advancing enemy. Lundy
objected that the conduct of the troops on the previous day had
not been such as to warrant much confidence in their efficiency,
and refused. Walker was of a very different opinion as to the con-
duct and efficiency of the troops, and of the expediency of a for-
ward movement."!" On the 15th, colonels Cunningham and Rich-
ards arrived from England, with two regiments, and a supply of am-
munition. Many of those who had come from Coleraine and Dromore,
were so discouraged by the great apparent weakness of the town, and
the deficiency of most of the essential means and materials of defence,
that they refused to remain, and thus for a time caused great depres-
sion in the garrison, as well as among the citizens. There was a
want of horse for sallies; no engineers to direct their work; no fire-
works to annoy the besiegers ; not a gun rightly mounted on the walls ;
while the crowd of useless persons assembled on the walls was very
numerous, and materially tended to aggravate and hasten the subse-
quent calamitous effects of scarcity, by the increased consumption of a

* Walker s Diary. t Ibid.

430 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

supply already insufficient. On the 17th, news of the approach of
king James' army having- reached the town, a council of war was
called by Lundy: it was mainly composed of those over whom he had
maintained an influence, and those upon whom he was enabled to im-
pose a false statement of circumstances : it came to the following resolu-
tion— " Upon inquiry it appears, that there is not provision in Lon-
donderry, for the present garrison and the two regiments on board,
for above a week, or ten days at most, and it appearing that the place
is not tenable against a well appointed army: therefore it is concluded
upon, and resolved, that it is not convenient for his majesty's service,
but the contrary, to land the two regiments commanded by colonels
Cunningham and Richards, now on board in the river Lough
Foyle. That considering the present circumstances of affairs, and
the likelihood the enemy will soon possess themselves of this place,
it is thought most convenient that the principal officers shall
privately withdraw themselves, as well for their own preservation, as
in hopes that the inhabitants, by a timely capitulation, may make
terms the better with the enemy; and that this we judge most conven-
ient for his majesty's service, as the present state of affairs now is."

It seems from this, as from the statements of Mr Walker, that while
the citizens of Derry were still resolutely bent on resistance, there
was yet a secret influence in the councils of these authorities, which
devoted them to the disgrace of a surrender. Treachery and terror
were both at work, and while governor Lundy meditated his own
interest in the contrivance of a tame capitulation, and many whose
age and caution led them to a keen view of the difficulties and dan-
gers of their position, and to despair of the result of resistance, the people,
and their patriotic leaders, watched their conduct with distrust. There
was, as yet, however, a general indecision as to the course expedient to
be pursued, and while those in authority wished to enter upon a ne-
gotiation with James, a habitual sense of subordination prevented any
decided indication among the numerous lookers on, of their strong
repugnance to such a course. Yet in this uncertain state of the
authorities, some deference to the well-known feeling of the city
was yet felt to be necessary : and when captain White was sent
out to meet the king, for the purpose of receiving his proposals, it was
made a condition, that the army which he commanded should not
approach the city nearer than within four miles of its walls. The
reader, who has justly appreciated the arrogant and inconsiderate
disposition of James, will easily apprehend that he received so much
of these overtures as suited his own wishes, and dismissed the remain-
der without notice. Confident in the expectation of a surrender, and
imagining that this object would be the more readily gained by a show
of force, the next morning he marched his army and appeared with
flying colours before the walls: his reception was such as to startle
the credulous arrogance of his expectations, and to abate something
of his absurd confidence. Though the governor, true to his own pur-
pose, gave orders that not a shot should be fired until farther com-
munications had taken place ; the citizens considering themselves
betrayed, rushed to the walls and fired upon the hostile troops. This
act disclosed to James the unwelcome truth that his own troops wei'6

REV. GEORGE WALKER. 431

hardly to be relied on, for they ran panic-struck and disordered from
the fire. It was with some difficulty that the spirit of the citizens could
be quieted, so far as to allow of further negotiation: it was however
evident that no hostility was offered by James, and they were strongly
assured that he only came to treat. Having thus obtained a temporary
ealm, the governors once more sent out archdeacon Hamilton, and Mr
Neville, to beg pardon in their name for having drawn him into such
dangers, and to represent the great difficulty of bridling the fury and
disaffection of the unruly multitude. The ex-king, on their request,
drew off his troops that same evening to Jamestown, to await the
event of their promised efforts to bring the people to submission.

But in the interim, the whole proceedings of the council had been dis-
closed by Mr Moggredge, the town clerk : their design was, indeed, such
as to rouse the utmost indignation, as it was nothing less than a desertion
of the citizens to the vengeance of their inveterate enemy, by a secret
flight from the city. The resolution of the council was, " that colonel
Cunningham, his ships, men, and provision, should return to England,
and all gentlemen and others in arms should quit the garrison and go
along with him." This arrangement, which contains pretty nearly an
equal proportion of cowardice, treachery, and cruelty, at once roused
a spirit among the citizens which set all further temporizing at defi-
ance. The faint-hearted and the false saw that it was time to save
themselves, and great numbers made their escape, not without much
danger, from the angry soldiers, who were with difficulty restrained
from firing upon them. Lundy, who was of all these the most an
object of dislike, was compelled to have recourse to contrivance for
his escape ; disguised as a labourer, and loaded with a bundle of
matches, he accompanied a party of soldiers, who were sent out on
the pretence of a sally to relieve Culmore, and thus reached the
shipping in safety.

On this, the garrison, fully resolved on holding out against the army
of James, thought it expedient to choose governors. The duties of
the government were committed to George Walker and Major Baker.
On accepting this trust, they immediately entered upon the arrange-
ments essential to their devoted purpose. Their first step was, the
convenient distribution of their forces. The following are the particu-
lars of this arrangement, as given by Walker in his account of these
proceedings: colonel Walker, 15 companies; colonel Baker, 25 ; colonel
Crofton, 1 2 ; colonel Mitchelburn, 1 7 ; colonel Lance, 1 3 ; colonel Mount-
ro, 13; colonel Hamilton, 14; colonel Murray, 8. Each company con-
sisted of 60 men; the whole amount of force was 7020, with 341 officers.
That the reader may the more clearly understand the details of the cele-
brated siege of this most illustrious city, it may be useful to lay before
him a brief description of its fortifications and chief localities, and for
this we cannot find any thing more adapted to our purpose than the
following description prefixed to Walker's diary. " The form of the
town comes somewhat near an oblong square ; and its situation length-
ways is north-west and south-east, or on a diagonal drawn from the
church through the market-house, to the magazine, is near upon a
north and south line.

" The length of the town through the middle, from Ship-quay gate

432 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

to Bishop's-gate, is about 300 paces, or 1500 foot. The wall on the
west side the town 320 paces ; the wall on the east side about 380.

"The breadth at north-west end 140; at the south-east end 120;
from Butchers-gate to Ferry -gate, where the town is broadest, 180 paces.

"The wall is generally seven or eight foot thick; but the outside
wall of stone or battlements above the Terra-plene, is not more than
two foot in thickness.

" The four corners have each of them a bastion; on the long side
to the west- ward are two other bastions; and on the side to east- ward
one bastion, one demi-bastion, and two other works which are com-
monly called platforms.

" There are four gates — Bishop's gate at the south-east end, Ship-
quay gate at the end opposite to it, Butcher's gate at the north-east
side, and Ferry-quay gate over against it.

" In the middle of the town is a square, called the Diamond, where
the market-house stands (during the siege turned into a guard-house).

" Near the south-west end of the town stands the church, on the
top whereof, being a flat roof, were placed two of our guns, which were
of great use in annoying the enemy. In the south-east angle of the
town was the principal magazine. Within the town also were several
wells ; and before Bishop's gate was a ravelin built by colonel Lundy ;
and the ground on forwards to the Wind-mill hill, was taken in by the
besieged to the distance of 260 paces from the town, and about the
same distance across the river, and for fear this ground should be
taken from the besieged by the enemy, another line was industriously
drawn from the south-west quarter of the town to the river to secure
their retreat.

" The number of guns placed on the bastions and line, was eight
sakers, and twelve demi-culverins.

" The whole town stands upon an easy ascent, and exposed most of
the houses to the enemy's guns."* This description of the city and
fortifications of Derry as it then stood, needs no addition to impress
the reader with a sufficient sense of the bravery of the gallant and
devoted men who now united to defend it to extremity. But in
addition to all the disadvantages of situation under which they laboured,
they were encumbered with a large and helpless crowd of women,
children, and aged people, most of whom were fugitives, who had
gathered in from the surrounding districts, and served no end but to
consume their provisions, and dishearten them with complaints and
sufferings. Under such trying circumstances, the brave defenders of
Londonderry entered on their task; to the companies, divided as we
have said, were allotted their several posts, and each was taught to
man its own bastion at the moment of necessity. The duty of main-
taining the spirit of the garrison was divided between the eighteen
clergymen of the English church, and seven presbyterian ministers,
who each in rotation addressed their respective congregations ; and
while they animated their zeal and fired their valour by strong repre-
sentations of the justice and emergency of their cause, at the same
time directed their thoughts to the only true source of strength and
hope of success.

* Description prefixed to Walker's History of the Siefje.

On the 20th April, the besiegers marched towards Pennyburn hill,
and took up a position which separated the city from the fort of Cul-
more. On the same day Mr Bennet was sent from the garrison to
England, to give an account of their condition, and assurances of their
resolution to hold out to the last. The soldiers were ordered to fire
after him as he went, that he might be supposed to be a deserter from
the city. This day also, many messages were sent in to induce a sur-
render, but all were in vain; and on the following day, a demi-culverin
began to fire on the city at the distance of about 1260 yards, but
without any material effect. This ineffective demonstration was
answered by a vigorous sally, which seems to have taken the besiegers
by surprise, as they lost two hundred of their men, with the French
general Mammont, and six other officers of rank. They rallied, and
the sallying party made good their retreat with the loss of four sol-
diers and one lieutenant. On this occasion, the horse led by Colonel
Murray, about fifty in number, were so closely pressed in their retreat,
that Mr Walker was under the necessity of mounting one of the
horses, and riding out to rally them, as their brave leader was sur-
rounded by the enemy. The whole were thus brought off, and three
pair of colours were the honourable trophy of this first trial of their
valour.

The enemy, dissatisfied with such results, soon contrived to bring
their artillery within a closer range; and at the distance of about 650
yards, opened a fire which told severely upon the houses, which by
the elevation of the city were exposed to their range. The besieged,
in no way disheartened, returned their fire with no less spirit, and
many fell on both sides. Among the numerous casualties on record,
Mr Walker mentions one which is curious enough for repetition. A
bomb thrown by the besiegers from Mr Strong's orchard, fell into a
room where several officers were at dinner; it lighted upon a bed,
bursting its way into the room underneath, exploded and killed the
owner of the house, and struck down the wall, so that the officers, all
untouched, came out of the opening thus made.

After suffering a loss of several men from another sally, the besieg-
ers found reason to be dissatisfied with their progress, and drew a
new line across Windmill hill " from the bog to the river," and planted
a new battery. But the effect was trifling, and only drew forth from
the gallant men within, a contemptuous exhortation to spare the labour
and expense, reminding them that the breach which they toiled so
vainly to effect was needless, as they kept their gates open, which
they might find wide enough if they had the courage to try.

The danger was however more truly appreciated by the command-
ers, and it was felt to be necessary to take immediate and decisive
steps. Having consulted with Baker and the other principal officers
of the garrison, Walker resolved on a sally ; he selected ten men out
of each company, and having put them in " the best order their impa-
tience would allow," he led them out at the Ferry gate, at four in the
morning. They advanced with silent rapidity, and dividing, one part
of them dislodged the enemy's dragoons from the hedge behind which
they were posted, and the remainder seized possession of the trenches.
There was but slight resistance, as the enemy were borne down at

n. 2 E Ir.

434 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

every point by the impetuosity of the assault, and soon began to save
themselves in great confusion; they left two hundred dead on the
field, and had five hundred wounded so severely that above three
hundred died within a few days. Among the killed there was a gene-
ral officer, with seven of inferior rank, and four taken prisoners, with
five pair of colours.

The immediate result of this well-conducted and successful sally
was a considerable abatement of the enemy's courage, and for the fol-
lowing fortnight they kept very much in the back ground. The want
of horse restrained the besieged, who were of the two the more will-
ing to assume the offensive. Some time thus passed, without any
material change in the position of either side. The interval was not
however without adventure. Several officers, among whom captain
Noble is especially mentioned by Walker, made occasional sallies at
the head of small detachments mostly not exceeding ten or twelve,
whenever any party of the enemy were seen to approach ; and these,
sometimes becoming entangled with superior numbers, were relieved
by fresh assistance from the walls. On all these occasions the enemy
were compelled to retire with loss, while that of the city detachments
was very slight. The difference in the composition of the force on
either side seems to have been very much to the disadvantage of the
besiegers ; and, as most commonly will be found, the moral inferiority
was not less than the physical. Many were discouraged by the con-
sciousness of a bad cause, and the conduct of the besiegers was
itself not unworthy of it. Their attempts at negotiation were so
marked by treachery, that no reliance could in the slightest matter be
placed on their most solemn pledge; of this there are many instances.
Among them, it is mentioned by Walker, that "having hung out a
white flag to invite to a treaty, Mr Walker ventured out to come
within hearing of my lord Lowth, and Colonel O'Neile, and in his
passage had a hundred shots fired at him ; he got the shelter of a house,
and upbraided them with this perfidious dealing, and bid them order
their men to be quiet, or he would order all the guns on the walls to
fire on them; they denied they were concerned or knew any thing of
it, and this was all the satisfaction to be expected from persons of
such principles."* Besides many similar acts of the most atrocious
falsehood and treachery, it was ascertained by the confessions of
several prisoners that there was an avowed and distinct understanding
among the besiegers that no faith was to be kept with the besieged.

The besieging army was removed from Johnstown to Ballyagry
hill, about two miles from the town; but sentries were posted at such
stations as made it a matter of great danger for any one to approach
the wells outside the town, and the want of water within having be-
come extreme, this danger was constantly braved by the citizens.
Many were thus slain ; and a gentleman is mentioned by Walker, who
had the bottle shot from his mouth at one of these wells.

On the fourth of June, the enemy made an assault in considerable
force on the works at Windmill hill, then in possession of the citizens.
They were repulsed with great loss. Among the incidents of this

* Walker's History of the Siege.

REV. GEORGE WALKER. 435

conflict, there are some which indicate plainly that the advantages of
courage and discipline lay with the citizens. The assailants exhibited
great surprise when they found that their antagonists, instead of firing
a volley and running away, reserved two-thirds of their discharge, and
stood firing in successive volleys as they came on. Colonel Butler,
son to lord Mountgarret, and thirty horsemen, having forced their way
to the top of the works, the city party were astonished to find that
their bullets took no effect upon them; but captain Crooke remarked
that they were cased in armour, and ordered that the horses should be
aimed at, which was so effectually obeyed, that of the thirty but three
succeeded in getting off. " We wondered," writes Walker, " that the
foot did not run faster, till we took notice that in their retreat they
took the dead on their backs, and so preserved their own bodies from
the remainder of our shot, which was more service than they did while
they were alive." On this occasion, the enemy's loss was four hun-
dred, with nine officers slain and seven taken; while the city lost but
six privates and one officer — a plain proof of the superior character
of their force. This disastrous repulse appears to have animated
the councils of the besiegers with an impatient wish to retaliate.
On the same night they opened a severe and destructive bombard-
ment on the city, the effects of which were terrific : " they plowed up
our streets, and broke down our houses, so that there was no passing
the streets nor staying within doors, but all flock to the walls and the
remotest parts of the town, &c."* This new mode of attack was at-
tended with more serious results than any to be apprehended from
their prowess in the field. Mr Walker gives a lively description of
it. " They plied the besieged so close with great guns in the day-
time, and with bombs in the night and sometimes in the day, that they
could not enjoy their rest, but were hurried from place to place and
tired into faintness and diseases, which destroyed many of the garri-
son, which was reduced to 6185 men on the 15th of this month; these
bombs were some advantage to us on one account; for being under
great want of fuel, they supplied us plentifully from the houses they
threw down, and the timber they broke for us.''f There cannot indeed
easily be found a more striking illustration of the heroism that can
gather " resolution from despair."

In the course of these proceedings, the spring had passed without
any progress on the side of the besiegers, while the brave defenders
of the city, unimpressed by the arms of their enemy, were beginning
to feel the severest extremities of toil, exposure and privation. In the
beginning of June, the allowance of food for the several companies
had sunk to the lowest amount consistent with the bare support of
life; the garrison dragged on a sickly existence of prolonged starva-
tion, and though the noble spirit of resistance was still unshaken, yet
the animal energy which had so often repelled the assault from their
gates, and which stood unmoved amidst the daily cannonade which had
already laid their city in the dust under their feet, was sadly broken;
the brave soldiers and citizens of Londonderry were become so en-
feebled, that the summer heats, now setting in, were scarcely to be

* Walker's Hist. t Walker's HisU

436 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

endured by their attenuated frames ; and, already more thinned in their
force by famine and unwholesome living, than by the enemy, exhausted
nature now began to give way with accelerated rapidity. On the
7th of June, three distant ships were seen to approach the river, which
awakened a momentary hope of relief; but unhappily they were soor.
deterred by the apparent dangers of the entrance, and after son?
vain hesitation sailed away.

On the 15th June, a fleet of thirty sail appeared in Lough Foyle,
and once more excited anxious expectation in the fainting garrison.
The obstacles were nevertheless of the most formidable character;
the besiegers, well supplied with artillery and ammunition, raised
strong batteries on Charles fort, at the narrow part of the river,
where the ships must pass before they could reach the town; they
also lined the bank on both sides with muscmetry. In addition to
these preparations, they contrived to fasten a strong boom across the
water, which, by arresting the entrance of the ships just under their
guns, would have exposed them to the fullest effect of their fire. Such
obstacles demanded the spirit of a Rodney or a Nelson, and were far
too discouraging for Kirke. Signals not very intelligible to either
were exchanged from the steeple of the cathedral and the masts of the
fleet; and at last a messenger sent from the ships contrived by swim-
ming to reach the city, and convey information. From him they
learned the amount of relief intended for them and contained in the
ships. Another messenger despatched at the same time had fallm
into the hands of the enemy, and was suborned to make delusive state-
ments to the garrison; for which purpose they hung out a white
flag, and offered to permit the garrison to communicate with their
prisoner. The trick was however ineffectual.

Kirke retired, but employed a little boy who twice succeeded in
making his way into the city, baffling the search of the enemy by
the dexterity with which his letters were secreted. One letter he car-
ried in his garter; the second was sewed in a cloth button. Kirke's
letter will here convey the immediate position of affairs, — it is addres-
sed to governor Walker.

" Sir, — I have received yours by the way of Inch. I writ to you
Sunday last, that I would endeavour all means imaginable for your
relief, and find it impossible by the river, which made me send a party
to Inch, where I am going myself to try if I can beat off their camp,
or divert them, so that they shall not press you. I have sent officers,
ammunition, arms, great guns, &c, to Inniskillin, who have three
'housand foot, one thousand five hundred horse, and a regiment of
l>"voons that has promised to come to their relief, and at the same
ime, I will attack the enemy by Inch. I expect six thousand men
from England evei'y minute, they having been shipt these eight days.
I have stores and victuals for you, and am resolved to relieve you.
England and Scotland are in a good posture, and all things are very
well settled; be good husbands of your victuals, and by God's help
we shall overcome these barbarous people. Let me hear from you
as often as you can, and the messenger shall have what reward he will.
I have several of the enemy has deserted to me, who all assure me
they cannot stay long. I hear from Inniskillin the Duke of Berwick

REV. GEORGE WALKER. 437

is beaten, I pray God it be true, for then nothing- can hinder them

joining* you or me.

" Sir, your faithful servant,

" J. KlKKE."

" To Mr George Walker."

About the middle of June, Baker was become too seriously ill to
take any part in the further conduct of the defences, and by his own
desire colonel Mitchelburn was appointed in his place, as governor in
commission together with Walker. The object of this provision as
explained by Walker, being in order that one might be always present
in the town when the other commanded the sallies, and also, in case
of death to avoid the danger of new elections.

About six days after, the besiegers were joined by field Marshal
Conrade De Rosen, a French officer whom James had made command-
er in chief of the Irish armies. De Rosen, as often occurs to those
who come fresh and untried to scenes of difficulty, despised the enemy,
and conducted himself much as if he thought the defenders of the city
might be intimidated into a surrender by oaths, imprecations and
menaces, which only excited their contempt ; he also had recourse to
persuasion and promises, which had no greater effect, — " God having
under all our difficulties," writes Walker, " established us with a spirit
and resolution above all fear or temptation to any mean compliances,
we having devoted our lives to the defence of our city, our religion,
&c." So great indeed was that devotion, that feeling themselves totter-
ing upon the very verge of visible destruction, and considering the
temptation to save themselves in their emergency so great by a surrender
which they thought infamous, the governors thought fit at this period
to forbid the mere mention of surrender, on pain of death. The
desertions began to be numerous, as among the crowd there were
necessarily many who were more awake to safety and the wants of animal
nature, than to honour and the dictates of conscience. The balls were
spent, and for their cannon they were necessitated to use bricks coated
with lead, yet with these clumsy substitutes they seldom fired without
execution. De Rosen on his part was not deficient in the active em-
ployment of the various resources of war to distress the city and
shorten its defences: he planted new batteries, formed new lines and
began a mine to destroy the half bastion near the gate at Bog-street.
All these elaborate preparations were frustrated by the commanders
of the garrison, by whom his mine was countermined, and his foremost
and bravest men killed by well directed discharges from the walls.
One evening late, a regiment under the command of lord Clancarty
contrived to enter the works of the city, and even lodged several men
in a cellar under the bastion. Captains Noble, Dunbar and others,
were ordered to steal out at the Bishop's gate and creep silently round
by the wall until they came unexpectedly upon the enemy, who as yet
thought that they had the whole matter to themselves ; precisely follow-
ing the direction of the governor, the sallying party came round until
they were very near the assailants, who immediately saluted them with
a hurried and ineffectual fire ; they received the discharge with the
most thorough composure, and advanced without returning it until they

438 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

came " to a right distance," and then opened a deadly fire. Almost
at same instant a discharge from the walls followed up their fire, and
lord Clancarty with his men were compelled to fly, abandoning the
mines, and leaving a hundred soldiers dead on the spot.

On the 30th June the gallant Baker died, and was interred in the
Cathedral, with the sorrow and the state due to his merit.

The garrison was by this time reduced to the necessity of eating
horse flesh, dogs, cats, rats and mice, greaves of a year old, tallow,
starch, dried hides, &c. A statement of Walker's, giving the prices
at which these articles were sold in the markets, will convey some
idea of the condition to which they were reduced.

Horse flesh sold for, per pound, . . £0 18

A quarter of a Dog, fattened by eating the bodies
of the slain Irish, ....

A Dog's head, ....

j"L V itlf ... ...

A xvatj .....

A Mouse, .

A small Flook taken in the river, not to be bought

for money, or purchased under the rate of a

quantity of meal.
A pound of Greave, ....
A pound of Tallow, ....

A pound of salted Hides,

A quart of Horse blood, ....
A Horse pudding, ....
A handful of sea Wreck, ....

Do. of Chicken weed, .
A quart of Meal when found, . . .

A fact mentioned by Walker somewhat amusingly illustrates this
state of want. A fat gentleman, conceiving himself in so much danger
of being eaten, by those whose grim and famished looks seemed to his
frightened apprehension, to indicate a strong disposition to such a
meal, hid himself for three days and endeavoured by abstinence to
disencumber himself of an obesity so dangerously attractive to the eye
of starvation. Yet in the midst of all this trying distress, the spirit of
the soldiers never flagged, and their conversation was full of hope and
resolution.

The enemy who failed to conquer their spirit, made some attempts
to sow division in the garrison, and contrived to propagate a report
which caused some excitement, that Walker had a large store of pro-
visions secreted in his own house. The governor contrived to have
a search proposed, by which such suspicions were turned aside and he
was fully restored to the confidence of the army. Negotiations of a
fraudulent nature, and illusory representations, were at the same time
had recourse to. Lieutenant-general Hamilton whom the reader may
recollect as having made king William tbe dupe of a mistaken con-
fidence in his honour, sent to offer conditions, and received from
Walker and his heroic companions for answer, that they much won-
dered that he could expect their confidence, having already so un-
worthily broken faith with the king; that though an enemy, he had

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REV. GEORGE WALKER. 439

once been generously trusted, yet betrayed tbe trust ; and it was
not to be believed that he would learn more sincerity in an Irish
camp.*

General De Rosen sent a letter to demand an immediate surrender,
threatening incase of refusal to take revenge upon the surrounding dis-
tricts as far as Ballishaimy, Claremont, Belfast, and the barony of Inish-
owen, and to order the robbery of the protected as well as unprotected
protestants, and have all driven to perish under the walls of their city.
The proposal and menace were alike disregarded; but De Rosen was
not slow in executing the threat so far as lay in his power. This
officer, not without grounds in probability, but contrary to the fact,
conceived the notion that none but the superior officers in the garrison
could have the desperate resolution under these circumstances, thus to
spurn at all conditions ; and that it was impossible the soldiers
could have been made aware of his offers. Thus ignorant of the
spirit of the soldiers and citizens of Derry, he contrived to disperse
among them, proposals and copies of his letters to their governors.
Among other expedients for this purpose, a " dead shell," containing
copies of the whole correspondence, was thrown into the city. He
little knew the single and resolute spirit which made the garrison
as one man, prefer death in any honourable form to a life of dis-
honourable submission to a perfidious, unscrupulous, and cruel des-
potism: he was not perhaps fully aware of the dreadful lesson which
had been taught by Tyrconnel, who had already made it obvious to
every Irish protestant, that pardon and protection were but delusions
to gain some immediate purpose, and that the dupe was only let live
to be hunted down as convenience might offer, by an untiring perse-
cution from which there was no earthly refuge but in arms, or the bar-
ter of conscience and truth.

On the 2d July the menace of the French general was fulfilled, and
a crowd of poor protestants was seen approaching from a distance,
driven on like a herd of cattle by the troopers of De Rosen. For a
short time the garrison was completely at a loss to understand the
strange approach of a vast crowd of at least 30,000 person^ approach-
ing their walls ; and mistaking them for the enemy, fired upon them
from the walls. It was not long however before they perceived the
truth, and by singular and providential accident their fire had not
harmed a single person among the crowd, but passing over their
heads, slew several of those drivers who were mingled in the further
verge of the crowd. The governors of the city were filled with in-
dignation by a sight so full of shame and horror: they ordered a gal-
lows to be raised in sight of the Irish camp, and apprized De Rosen
and his army that they would hang their prisoners if the poor protes-
tants were not suffered to return to their homes. These prisoners
themselves admitted that they could not complain of such a decision,
and entreated to be allowed to write to Hamilton: the permission
was granted, and we give the correspondence as illustrative of the mis-
creant spirit of those who commanded the besieging army. The fol-
lowing was the letter written by the prisoners: —

* Walker's Diary.

440 TRANSITION— POLITICAL.

" My Lord, — Upon the hard dealing the protected, as well as other
protestants have met withal, in being sent under the walls, you have
so incensed the governor and others of this garrison, that we are all
condemned by a court-martial to dye to-morrow, unless these poor
people be withdrawn. We have made application to marshal-general
De Rosen, and having received no answer, we make it our request to
you, (as knowing you are a person that does not delight in shedding
innocent blood) that you will represent our condition to the mar-
shall-general. The lives of twenty prisoners lye at stake, and there-
fore require your diligence and care. We are all willing to die (with
our swords in our hands) for his majesty; but to suffer like malefac-
tors is hard, nor can we lay our blood to the charge of the garrison,
the governor and the rest having used and treated us with all civility
imaginable — Your most dutiful and dying friends,

" Netervllle,

" E. Butler,

" G. Aylmer,

" MacDonnel,

" Darcy, &c, in the name of all the rest.

" Writ by another hand, he himself has lost the fingers
of his right hand.
" To Lieutenant-general Hamilton?

To this, Hamilton returned the following answer: —

" Gentlemen, — In answer to yours, what these poor people are like
to suffer, they may thank themselves for, being their own fault; which
they may prevent by accepting the conditions (which) have been
offered them. And if you suffer in this, it cannot be helped, but shall
be revenged on many thousands of those people, as well innocent as
others, within or without that city ! "

An epistle of which the brutality cannot easily be exceeded in so
few words.

Still, the. lieutenant-general took two days to consider the danger of
his own disgraceful position, and the real consequences which should
be the result of persisting in the cruel expedient he had adopted; and
feeling that if the garrison fulfilled their menace, he should stand
committed to outrages too shameful even for him, resolved to com-
ply and purchase the safety of the prisoners by suffering the protes-
tants to disperse to their homes. The commanders of the garrison on
their part, obtained some advantage from this barbarous proceeding,
as they thus contrived to get rid of 500 useless persons. This the
enemy endeavoured in vain to prevent, and even pretended that they
could distinguish by smelling, those who had been in the city, — and
the assertion is not quite improbable. Some able men were also thus
obtained for the service of the garrison.

By many conversations from the walls, they ascertained the edi-
fying fact which should not be omitted in this history, that the native
portion of the force under De Rosen was treated with contempt and
neglect. The Irish soldiers expressed " great prejudice and hatred
of the French, cursing those damned fellows that walked in trunks,

REV. GEORGE WALKER. 441

(neaning their jack-boots,) that had all preferments in the army that
fed, and took the bread out of their mouths, and they believed would
ha^e all the kingdom to themselves at last." A belief quite warranted
by reason and experience, however the rude Irish soldier may have
reached it.

The effects of disease and famine may be clearly estimated at thia
peiiod of the siege, from the statement of Walker: considering that
the losses occasioned by any other means were but trifling.

July 8, the garrison is reduced to 5520,

__ 13, do. do. 5313, loss in 5 days, 207

_ 17, do. do. 5114, 4 — 299

— 22, do, do. 4973, 5—141

_ 25, do. do. 4892, 3 — 81

Total in 17 days, . . 728*

Giving thus an average loss of near forty-three a day, from the
mere effets of exposure and starvation. A state of suffering which
is striking^ exemplified by the fact, that in a sally which they made on
the 25th oijuly, in the hope of carrying off some of the besiegers'
cattle, thoujb they slew 300, yet it was remarked that many of the
sallying part fell by the force of their own blows. A remarkable
illustration ak0 of the superiority of moral power over the mere
animal strengt 0f a rude multitude.

Under these <ircumstances Walker began to fear for the constancy
of the garrison, f whom more than four hundred perished within the
next two days, mining upwards of 2000 per month. He felt in him-
self an unshaken cnndence that they could not be entirely deserted by
overruling Provide ce, and endeavoured to impart his own faith and
spirit to the garrison^ the 30th in a discourse delivered in the cathe-
dral, in which he rented them of the many signal deliverances they
had received, of the nVjortance of their defence to the protestant reli-
gion, and enforced fro, these considerations the inference that when
at the worst they would>btain deliverance.

About an hour after, t^y espied from the wall three large vessels
approaching the harbour, hich they rightly conjectured to be sent by
Kirke for their relief. IV anxious suspense of the famine-struck
defenders of Londonderry n^s no description : they hung out a red
flag from the steeple of the ca;e(jra]j an(j m-ed several guns to express
their extremity of distress: a lou an^ simultaneous cry, "now or never,"
broke from a thousand voices, s tbe ships approached the point of
danger, under the guns of the enely . aruj a furious cannonade for some
minutes arrested their entrance, ^he ships returned the fire with
spirit, and still proceeded without w*ermg a m0ment, until the Mount-
joy, commanded by captain Browniu having struck the boom and
broken it, was thrown upon the sands ,„ tne recoil. The enemy set
up a tremendous shout, and rushed foTard to board the vessel : but
firing her broadside among them, she wa„arrje(j back by the shock ot
her own guns, and floated again. The cltest after this was quickly
at an end: the three vessels entered witho\ anv further impediment:

* Walker's Diary.

442 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

they were the Phoenix and the Mountjoy transports, commanded by
captains Douglas and Browning, and convoyed by the Dartmouth
frigate, captain Leake: they contained a large and needful supply ot
beef, meal, and other provisions and the Heroes of Derry were sa^ed,
just when their entire provision was barely enough to keep themtvo
days more alive. At this moment there remained alive 4300 men,
of 7300 originally numbered within the garrison. Their provision
consisted of nine lean horses, and one pint of meal per man. It re-
mains to be added, that the gallant captain Browning, with four (t his
men, were slain by the enemy's fire, while the Mountjoy was agiJund.

We need not dwell further upon the particulars of this mostinter-
esting event. The sieg-e was at an end ; the enemy had been taug'ht
to appreciate the spirit of Derry too well at its last ebb, to isk any
further encounter. They drew off to Strabane. They hadocarcely
completed their encampment, when they heard of the bloodydefeat of
general Macarthy by the Enniskillen men' ; and wisely reflated that
their safest course was furthest from the scope of such ru»e encoun-
ters. They broke four guns, and threw twelve cart-loadsJf military
store into the river, and marched with discreet precipitin to safer
quarters. Thus writes Walker, " after 105 days beinr closely be-
sieged by near 20,000 men constantly supplied from DiJlin, God Al-
mighty was pleased in our utmost extremity to send rlief." Nearly
9000 of the besieging army had fallen before the wall-

A few days after, a meeting of the council and ch-f inhabitants of
Londonderry met and agreed upon an address to ki^ William, which
they committed to the care of their governor to present. Walker
proceeded on his way by Scotland. He was recei^o with every mark
of respect in Glasgow, which claimed the hon^r of his education.
At Edinburgh he met a no less honourable region • there he was
waited on by a body of presbyterian ministers, /no applied to him for
some information respecting the condition of ^eir Irish brethren, and
received from him an affecting narrative of tbir distresses and suffer-
ings. By this city he was admitted as a b'gess and guild brother,
and received from the town clerk, ^Sneas p'Cleod, a formal certificate
of his admission to this honour. Pursi°g bis route to London, he
was met at Barnet by Sir R. Cotton, wh came to meet him, and con-
veyed him from thence in his coach to -^ndon. During his journey,
a letter from the king addressed to him ncl to Mitchelburn had reached
Londonderry, in which his majesty e:jress.e(l m strong terms his sense
of what was' due to them for their eorts in preserving that city, and
acknowledging that he looked upo.1* as ^ls duty to reward their ser-
vices as commanders in that hr°lc an^ unequalled defence. The
university of Cambridge shower11 sense worthy of itself, of the impor-
tance of these services by a de-'ee °f doctor. Soon after his arrival,
Walker attended a meeting o tn.e Irisl1 Society, to which he detailed
the effects of the siege in de;roJing' the greater part of the town, and
suggested the necessity of ^stance for the purpose of its being fitted
for the re-occupation of t* citizens. The society acted at once upon
the suggestion, and on implication the corporate authorities of Lon-
don set on foot an effect contribution to the required end of reliev-
ing the sufferers and -pairing the town. At the same time abate-

l±

RET. GEORGE WALKER. 443

ments were made in the rents, and timber gratuitously supplied for
the work of repair.*

At this time Walker prepared his diary of the siege, from which
the chief part of this memoir is drawn. It was received with great
applause; but was not long unattached by a pamphlet, written by Mr
Mackenzie, the presbyterian minister of Cookestown, whose account
of the same transactions, more in detail and substantially correct, is
generally allowed to be written with a feeling invidious towards
Walker, and not to be trusted so far as it may be construed to affect
his account. This was followed by a succession of pamphlets by the
friends and partisans on either side ; the controversy was closed by
Walker's vindication of his diary, which a recent writer of considerable
authority has justly called unanswerable : we transcribe the conclusion
of this document, of which the learned writer just cited very truly
observes, that it " will be sufficient to excite a wish that more of his
writings had been preserved."

" Mr Walker has not taken pains to satisfy those who do him the
honour to confess that God has been pleased to make him an instru-
ment of some good to them, and yet seem angry with him without
reason. He has not taken those pains to satisfy them, or establish
himself in their esteem, as if it were a discouragement to want their
good opinion. He does not know whether it would be for his credit
to have it, for there is ' woe against him of whom all men speak well,'
and he is well pleased to want that mark, and he knows that no man
can be so innocent, but he must endure reflections and abuses, and that
therefore the slanderer's throat is called an open sepulchre like death,
that all men must submit to, and in such cases Mr Walker is not so
unreasonable as to desire to be singular only as he could not propose
to get any reputation by writing, so he had some hopes he should not
lose any by it. He has written this vindication of his account of the
siege of Derry, not. that he thinks he has so great an occasion to
satisfy himself as to satisfy others, and that he thinks that he ought,
in justice to all those poor gentlemen and people who were concerned
with him in Derry, to keep up the reputation of their service, that
they may never receive any stain from the dirt or scandals any envi-
ous persons can throw upon them, to prejudice them in the king's
favour, or the sense he has so often been pleased to express of their
fidelity and courage.

" He has been upbraided with having given a very imperfect account
of the siege of Derry, and that matter he will not dispute with his
enemies; for it is impossible it could be otherwise, or that the little
time and convenience he had to be exact in such a thing could pre-
vent it. He is the more willing to allow this, because two very
extraordinary things occur to him, which at the time of writing the
book he had forgotten, and they being so considerable in demonstrat-
ing that providence which attended the defence of the town, and that
was so remarkable in its deliverance, he begs to insert them in this
paper.

" In the account of the siege you may find that people were every day

• Ordnance survey, County History. — Rev. John Graham.

444 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

going out of Derry ; the enemy by that means had constant intelligence,
and we had reason to be under great apprehension and concern, more
especially for our ammunition ; we therefore considered how to prevent
that, and having a great quantity in Mr Campsie's cellar we removed
it to another place. The very next day after we had removed it, a
bomb broke into the cellar, and if our gunpowder had been there we
should certainly have been destroyed.

" Another thing of as great moment was omitted, and that was, a
bomb from the enemy broke into a cellar near Butcher's Gate. Some
had the curiosity to examine what mischief it had done, and there they
saw seven men dead, that had been working at a mine unknown to us,
and that if it had not been for so miraculous a counter-mine, they might
have gone on with their work and ruined us. Mr Walker will not
say but there may be other as considerable things omitted, but they too
nearly concern himself, and it would not become him to sound his
own praises, more than it would to reproach others."

On the differences between Walker and Mackenzie, Harris observes,
" There are some variances between the account of the siege of Derry
published by Dr Walker, and the narrative of it drawn up by Mr
John Mackenzie, who were both present and in action during the siege
. — the former a clergyman of the church of Ireland, and the other a
dissenting minister, and clmplain of a regiment there in that busy time ;
and these variances are to be accounted of only from the consideration
of the different tempers and interests of parties, which often lead good
men astray. Mr Mackenzie is much more circumstantial than Dr
Walker, who gives only a diary of the circumstances just as they
happened; a method which naturally engages our belief. I have ex-
tracted from them both, where they do not clash ; and sometimes show
where they do. In his account of the election of governors after the
escape of Lundy, Dr Walker alleg-es, that himself and major Baker
were chosen to that office; on the other hand Mr Mackenzie gives
the election to major Baker alone, who named Dr Walker to be his
assistant in the siege, and he was properly only governor or commis-
sary of the stores. It is unaccountable that Dr Walker, who published
his diary in London immediately after the raising of the siege, should
assume to himself an office by election, to which he was not elected.
This would be a strain of falsity of which thousands could contradict
him. But the truth of Dr Walker's assertion is evinced by this, that he
signs first in all the public instruments and orders passed during
the siege; and his memory is vindicated against Mr Mackenzie's in-
sinuations by a pamphlet published in 1690, entitled, ' Mr Mackenzie's
narrative, a false libel,' to which the reader is referred; wherein not
only this point, but many others are set right."*

From the House of Commons Walker received a vote of thanks and
a grant of £5000 — a stinted and insignificant return for the services
he had performed; nor was its inadequacy redeemed by the bishopric
of Londonderry, which the king is generally asserted to have bestowed
upon him, but of which he never took possession. From the public,

* Harris' life of William III.

the Irish society, and the House of Commons, he received however a
full allowance of all the empty honour which he had so richly earned:
he probably found more real satisfaction in the opportunity allowed him
of serving the city, for which he had already risked his life and spent
his substance, by means of the weighty influence which his statements
had acquired. On his advice the house addressed the king in behalf
of the sufferers of Londonderry. They also instituted an inquiry into
the circumstances of the mismanagement of Irish affairs, and into the
causes of the misfortunes of the army. On these subjects Walker's
testimony was important, and received as decisive. The misconduct
of Lundy in abandoning the passes, and in various ways opposing and
preventing the defence of the city entrusted to his care, and the no
less detrimental treachery of Sheils (or Shales) the purveyor, were
clearly exposed by his testimony.

He received an invitation from the Oxford University, and the
degree of Doctor of Divinity, and a Diploma, in which he is described
in these terms, " Reverendus vir Georgius Walker, strenuus ipse ac
invictus Civilatis Derensis propngnator, atque eodem facto totius
Hibernice, uti speramus, conservator atque vindex. Die Mai\ 2,
1689"

Before his departure from London, Walker was entertained by the
city, and nothing appears to have been wanting to mark the sense of
his merits on the part of the English public. He was everywhere
received with enthusiasm, and whenever he chanced to be recognised
in the streets, the populace showed their admiration, and the public
feeling of England, by following him in crowds.

When he was on his way to present the address of the citizens of
Londonderry, he was advised to appear in the uniform of a lieutenant-
general before the king; but, with better taste and sounder sense of
principle, Walker rejected this absurd counsel, and presented himself
in his canonical attire. By the king he was received with the kind-
ness and favour so justly his due; and in addition to other marks of
respect, Sir Godfrey Kneller was commanded to paint a portrait of
him for the king.*

On William's arrival in Ireland, Walker was among those who re-
ceived him on the quay of Carrickfergus, and accompanied him to the
battle of the Boyne, where he received a mortal wound, as he was
crossing the river with Schomberg. He was interred at his own
church at Castle Caulfield. " In the year 1703," writes Mr Graham,
" a very handsome monument was erected in the wall over them [his
remains] by his widow. He had put the church, which is a very fine
one, in complete order, a short time before the revolution, as is record-
ed on an inscription over the door of it. It seemed when the writer
of these memoirs saw it in 1829, to have undergone no material change
since Walker's day, but was then in good repair. The following
is a copy of the inscription under the monument of this heroic man.
It is surmounted by his family arms, finely represented on a marble
slab: —

* Graham.

P. M. S.

Hie Juxt. lector,

Reverendi Georgii Walker, S.T.D»

Hujus Parochiae olim Rectoris,

Ossa reconduntur.
Hie cujus vigilautia et virtute
Londini Deriensis Civitas
Anno MDCLXXXIX,
A Gulielmi III. et ridei hostibus
Liberata Stetit,
Ad Boandi fluminis ripam
Pro eadem causa adversns eosdem
Hostes,
Anno MDCXC.
Occisus cecidit.
Cujus reliquiis et memoriae
Mcestissima adhuc illius vidua
Isabella Walker
Hoc monumentum posuit
Anno MDCCIIL

Saxo autem erit Fama perennior,
Nee futura minus quam praesentia secula
Tam purum Militem, tarn fortem Sacerdotem,
Mirabuntur.*

There is no reference made here to the fact mentioned by Lord
Macaulay, that, shortly before his death, the subject of it had become
bishop-elect of the rich see of Derry. Learning on his march to the
field of the Boyne, that this see had become vacant, William immedi-
ately bestowed it upon the brave defender of Londonderry, who was
forthwith loaded with felicitations from every quarter. The presence
of our hero with the army of William, and the circumstance of his
death on the occasion of that tight, has been interpreted by this noble
historian with acrimony, and even injustice, to the memory of our hero.
So far was George Walker from having, as stated by him, ' contracted
a passion for war ; ' from having ' forgotten that the peculiar circum-
stances which had justified him on becoming a combatant had ceased
to exist ;' from being ' determined to be wherever danger was ; or from
exposing himself in such a way as to excite the disgust of his royal pa-
tron ;' so untrue was it, as Lord Macaulay asserts, that, ' while exhort-
ing the colonists of Ulster to play the men, Walker was shot dead,' that
in fact Walker did not take any part whatever in the military work of
this campaign. Deputed by the Episcopalian and Presbyterian clergy
of Ulster to present congratulatory addresses to William on his ar-
rival in Ireland, Walker waited on him for that purpose at Belfast on
the 19th of June, and was then requested to accompany him on his
march for the sake of the information he could impart as to the country
and the people. That the substantial liberality of William, shown a
few days after to the Presbyterian clergy of Ulster, — the origin of the
donation so long bestowed on them by the English government, — was
the effect in some degree of Walker's representations, there cannot be
reasonable doubt.

* Graham.

The Londonderry and Enniskillen troops, did not join the army till
nearly the eve of the battle, and therefore Walker could not truly be
represented as accompanying them on the march from Belfast. He did
not enter the fight with them ; he did not even enter the Boyne at the
same spot, nor until long after they had passed and won themselves a
footing on the south bank ; nor was he slain near where they were in
contention. He seems to have remained near Duke Schomberg on the
north bank until the latter, seeing the French Protestant regiments
driven into the stream, and their brave commander carried back
mortally wounded across the ford, thought the emergency required
from him the personal exertion of a soldier. Walker accompanied him
to the brink of the river, and may perhaps unconsciously have followed,
sometime after, into the stream ; but it was a stray cannon shot which
terminated his life, while a (perhaps too near) spectator of the fight.

" Five generations have since passed away ; and still the wall of
Londonderry is to the protestants of Ulster what the trophy of Marathon
was to the Athenians. A lofty pillar, rising from a bastion which bore
during many weeks the heaviest fire of the enemy, is seen from far up
and down the Foyle. On the summit is the statue of Walker, such as
when, in the last and most terrible emergency, his eloquence roused
the fainting courage of his brethren. In one hand he grasps a Bible.
The other, pointing down the river, seems to direct the eyes of his
famished audience to the English topmasts in the distant bay." " There
is still a Walker club and a Murray club. The humble tombs of the
protestant captains have been carefully sought out, repaired, and em-
bellished." "It is impossible;" adds Lord Macaulay, from whom we
have copied, " not to respect the sentiment which indicates itself by
these tokens. A people which takes no pride in the noble achieve-
ments of remote ancestors, will never achieve any thing worthy to be
remembered with pride by remote descendants."

GUSTAVUS HAMILTON, VISCOUNT BOYNE.
BORN A. D. 1639— DIED A. D. 1723.

At the same time with the events related in the preceding memoir,
other incidents of little less historical interest were occurring in
the neighbouring territories. Of these we shall now have occasion
to relate the most memorable, as the illustrious soldier whose name and
title stand at the head of the present memoir, was among the few Irish-
men who bore a principal part in the wars of the revolution in Ireland.
In the latter end of the reign of James I., Sir Frederick Hamilton,
a descendant of the Scottish Hamiltons, who stood high among: the
most noble and ancient families of Europe, having obtained great dis-
tinction under the standard of Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden,
came over and served in Ireland, where he obtained considerable
grants. His youngest son Gustavus, so called after the Swedish king,
was a captain in the Irish army toward the end of the reign of Charles
II. In 1667, he was among those who attended on the duke of Or-
monde at the university of Oxford, and obtained on that occasion its
degree of doctor of laws.

448 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

On the accession of James II., he was sworn of his privy council;
but when it became evident that this feeble monarch, being engaged in
an attempt to overthrow the constitution and church of England, was
seeking to break up those institutions under which Ireland had been
advancing into civilization and freedom, for the purpose of more surely
effecting his purposes in England, Hamilton indicated that his first
duty belonged to the church and constitution by resigning his seat
at the Council board, and having thereupon been deprived of his com-
mission by Tyrconnel, retired to reside on an estate in the county of
Fermanagh.

Enniskillen, though then as now the capital of this county, was at
this time merely a village. It was built on an island surrounded by
the river which joins the two beautiful sheets of water known by the
common name of Lough Erne. The stream and both the lakes
were overhung on every side by natural forests. The village con-
sisted of about eighty dwellings clustering around an ancient cas-
tle, long time the seat of the Coles. The inhabitants were, with
scarcely an exception, Protestants ; and boasted that their town
had been true to the Protestant cause through the terrible rebellion
which broke out in 1641. Early in December, 1688, and about the
time of the scene of the ' Prentice Boys' of Londonderry, they received
from Dublin an intimation that two companies of Popish infantry were
to be immediately quartered on them. The alarm of the little com-
munity was great, and the greater because it was known that a preach-
ing friar had been exerting himself to inflame the Irish population of
the neighbourhood against the heretics. A daring resolution was
taken. Come what might, the troops should not be admitted. Yet
not ten pounds of powder, not twenty firelocks fit for use, could be
collected within the walls. Messengers were sent with pressing letters
to summon the Protestant gentry of the vicinage to the rescue ; and
the summons was gallantly obeyed. Among others came the subject
of our memoir. In a few hours two hundred foot, and a hundred
and fifty horse had assembled. Tyrconnel's soldiers were already at
hand. They brought with them a considerable supply of arms to be
distributed among the peasantry, who, greeting the royal standard with
delight, accompanied the march in great numbers. The townsmen
and their allies, instead of waiting to be attacked, came boldly forth
to encounter the intruders, who were confounded when they saw con-
fronting them a column of foot, flanked by a large body of mounted
gentlemen and yeomen. The crowd of camp followers ran away in
terror. The soldiers made a retreat so precipitate that it might be
called a flight, and scarcely halted till they were thirty miles off in
Cavan.

Elated by this easy victory, the Protestants proceeded to make
arrangements for the government and defence of Enniskillen and
of the surrounding country. Gustavus Hamilton was appointed Grov-
ernor, and took up his residence in the castle. Trusty men were
enlisted and armed with great expedition. As there was a scarcity of
swords and pikes, smiths were employed to make weapons by fastening
scythes on poles. All the country houses round Lough Erne were
turned into garrisons. No Papist was suffered to be at large in the

GUSTAVUS HAMILTON, VISCOUNT BOYNE. 449

town ; and the friar who was accused of exerting his eloquence against
the English was cast into prison.

When it was known, as previously related, that Lord Mountjoy had
been sent by Tyrconnel to reduce again Londonderry and Enniskillen
to obedience after these outbreaks, and had come to satisfactory terms
with the former, a deputation, consisting of ovir hero and others, was
sent by the defenders of the latter to excuse or justify their conduct,
but obtained no great satisfaction. Enniskillen therefore kept its atti-
tude of defence, and Mountjoy returned to Dublin.

On learning soon afterwards that a great force had been sent north-
ward under Richard Hamilton to reduce the Protestants of Ulster to
submission before aid could arrive from England, Gustavus Hamilton
again returned to Londonderry to concert measures with Lundy,
now left in charge of that city, for the common defence. Under
discouraging circumstances, and notwithstanding the disheartenings and
dissuasions of the treacherous Lundy, Hamilton undertook the defence
of Coleraine, repelled a spirited attack made on that town by the whole
Irish army, and gave time for concentration and aid to the cause,
until the pass of Portglenone being forced and it was deemed expedi-
ent to retire into Londonderry with their stores and arms : when
Hamilton returned again to his charge at Enniskillen.

The treachery of Lundy would have greatly increased the difficulties
of tlie situation in this now famous village, but for the heroic courage
of the English colonists. In the beginning of the year 1689 the
Protestant inhabitants of Sligo, ejecting the garrison and corporate
authorities imposed upon them by Tyrconnel, and choosing Robert
earl of Kingston and Sir Chidly Coote as their commanders, had
scarcely proceeded to commence their military organization when a
letter from Governor Lundy from Londonderry was received, earnestly
entreating these commanders would come to the assistance of that city.
Scarcely, however, had these officers and their forces passed Bally-
shannon when a letter was received by them from a self-appointed
committee in Londonderry, to the effect that their men could not be
received into that city ; where they said there was no accommodation
for them. No sooner had they left Sligo than Sarsfield, commanding
for Tyrconnel, as designed by the treacherous Lundy, forthwith took
possession of that town. In the same letter Lord Kingston was directed
to advance to join the Protestants in the Lagan district, who, it was
said, were awaiting his aid. Suspecting something wrong, Lord King-
ston rode forward in the direction of Londonderry without delay at
the head of a few horsemen, and learned that Lundy had previously
caused the Protestants to leave the places to which he had directed
him, while all the approaches to Londonderry itself were cut off by the
enemy. Lord Kingston then made the best of his way, — surprising a
French ship in Killibegs for the purpose, — with one or two officers to
England, to acquaint William with the state of matters, while the body
of his troops and their officers — in despite of Lundy, whose purpose it
was to have them disband and fall easy victims to their mortal foes —
betook themselves to Fermanagh and to the protection of its common
centre of operations; the borough town of Enniskillen.

The singular unaptness of this island town for every defensive pur-

n. 2 F Ir.

450

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

pose, commanded as it was from several heights, and especially by a
conical hill which rises from the very shore of the lough over its eastern
extremity, compelled its defenders to have recourse to an expedient as
singular as effective, viz., to regard it simply as a centre from which
to issue on every side as occasion for military enterprise presented
itself; but never to allow a hostile force to approach within many
miles of its site. A strong body of Protestants from Cavan with mili-
tary, driven before the forces of James, proceeding to the siege of Lon-
donderry, swelled their numbers and resources as their organization
was taking shape and form. From twelve companies, under Grustavus
Hamilton as colonel, and Loyd as lieutenant-colonel, they grew into
" seventeen troops of light horse, thirty companies of foot, and several
ill-armed troops of heavy dragoons."

Yet the work these men had to do, unused as most of them were,
not to arms, but to military organization, might well be described as
Herculean. The English inhabitants of Ireland, comprising those of
English descent, have been well described as an aristocratic caste, which
had been enabled by superior civilization, by close union, by sleepless
vigilance, and by cool intrepidity, to keep in subjection a numerous ami
hostile population. It is impossible to deny that, with many of the
faults, they possessed all the noblest virtues of a sovereign caste ; these
virtues have ever been most resplendent in times of distress and peril ;
and never were these virtues more signally displayed than by the
defenders of Londonderry and of Enniskillen, when Lundy their com-
mander had betrayed the one as well as the other ; and when the
overwhelming forces of the enemy were threatening to swallow them up.

Under Gustavus Hamilton they repelled with loss in April the ter-
rible horsemen of Lord Galmoy from the valley of the Barrow ; the
captain and the men most dreaded by the protestants for their rare
discipline, skill in arms, barbarity and perfidy, who had sat down before
Crom Castle, a miserable fort in the neighbourhood, and on the shore of
the eastern Lough Erne. They maintained a vigorous partizan war
against the native population. Early in May they marched to encounter
a large body of troops from Connaught, who had made an inroad into
Donegal. The Irish were speedily routed, and fled to Sligo, with the
loss of a hundred and twenty men killed, and sixty taken. They then
invaded the county of Cavan, drove before them fifteen hundred of
James's troops, took and destroyed the castle of Ballincarrig, reputed
the strongest in that part of the kingdom, and carried oft" the pikes and
muskets of the garrison. The next excursion was into Meath. Three
thousand oxen and two thousand sheep were swept away and brought
safe to the little island of Lough Erne. These daring exploits brought
terror even to the gates of Dublin. So little had been thought of the
gathering at first, that Tyrconnel assured James, when on his way from
Cork to that city, that it was scarcely to be named, and that Enniskil-
len would fall before a single company. Colonel Hugh Sutherland
was now ordered to march against Enniskillen with a regiment of dra-
goons, and two regiments of foot. He carried with him arms for the
native peasantry, and many repaired to his standard. The Enniskillen-
ers did not wait till he came into their neighbourhood, but advanced to
encounter him. He declined an action, and retreated, leaving his

GUSTAVUS HAMILTON, VISCOUNT BOYNE. 451

stores at Belturbet, under the care of a detachment of three hundred
soldiers. G-ustavus Hamilton attacked Belturbet with vigour, his
forces made their way into a lofty house which overlooked the town,
and thence opened such a fire that in two hours the garrison surrendered.
Seven hundred muskets, a great quantity of powder, many horses,
many sacks of biscuits, many barrels of meal were taken, and were sent
to Enniskillen. True to the provident and industrious character of
their race, the colonists, unlike their enemies the Rapparees, had in
the midst of war not omitted carefully to till the soil in the neighbour-
hood of their strongholds. The harvest was not now far remote; and
till the harvest, the food taken from the enemy would be amply suf-
ficient.

Yet in the midst of success and plenty the Enniskilleners were tor-
tured by a cruel anxiety for Londonderry, for there could be no doubt
that if Londonderry fell, the whole Irish army would instantly march
in irresistible force upon Lough Erne. Detachments were therefore
sent off which infested the rear of the blockading army, cut off supplies,
and on one occasion carried away the horses of three entire troops of
cavalry. Some brave men were for making a desperate attempt to re-
lieve the besieged city, but the odds were too great.

Yet the Enniskilleners were not without their discouragements. A
severe check, the result of overconfidence, followed on a retaliatory
incursion of a strong body of horse, under the Duke of Berwick, from
the army besieging Londonderry, which suddenly approached their
military pale. On learning their approach, Gustavus Hamilton sent out a
company of foot to occupy a close and difficult pass near the town,
through which they must needs pass. With a temerity born of their
successes in recent fights, instead of restraining themselves as the laws
of strategy demanded, to the occupation of a position where a handful
of men might have arrested the march of an army, these hardy and im-
petuous irregulars advanced upwards of a mile into the open, and found
themselves, before they could commence or even contemplate a retreat,
surrounded by an overwhelming squadron of most carefully disciplined
cavalry. A few of the footmen succeeded in cutting their way through
the enclosing troopers. Twenty-five slain, and twenty-six prisoners
were the cost of this lesson of caution to the protestants of the district.

The illness of Hamilton himself was another discouragement. The
anxieties of a position such as his could not fail to wear out the hard-
iest nature. Wielding an authority wholly resting on voluntary obe-
dience, and as yet without any legal sanction, he had not only to pro-
vide food for a numerous immigrant and helpless population, to distri-
bute rations with equal justice amongst ravenous and undisciplined sol-
diery, to exercise all the functions of a civil and military governor over
a variety of defensive positions, but to watch with sleepless and anxious
eye every point of the compass, and keep his scouts and watchmen in
continued activity and unceasing communication with himself. It is no
wonder, therefore, that his health gave way under the military toils
added to these numerous cares.

Another discouragement was the character of the news reaching them
about this time from Dublin. The proceedings in the Irish parliament,
called together by James, which commenced its sittings on the 7th

452 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

of May, and was prorogued towards the end of July, excited at once
their alarm and indignation. During an interval of little more than ten
weeks, these proceedings proved most truly that, great as may have
been the evils which protestant ascendency has produced in Ireland,
the evils produced by popish ascendency would have been greater still.
Every week came tidings that James had sanctioned some new act for
robbing or murdering protestants. By one sweeping Act the tithe
was transferred from the protestant to the Roman Catholic clergy ;
and the existing incumbents were left, without one farthing of com-
pensation, to die of hunger. A Bill repealing the Act of Settlement,
and transferring many thousands of square miles from English de-
scendants and loyal Irish, was brought in and carried by acclamation,
and although conscious of the iniquity, and protesting against it, James
was actually bullied into sanctioning its provisions. But the porten-
tous law, the law without parallel in the history of civilized nations,
the murderous Act of Attainder, the measure by which three thousand
persons, comprising the half of the peerage of Ireland, gentry of every
grade innumerable, tradesmen, artizans, women, children, clergy, per-
sons against whom nothing was or could be charged, except that they
were disliked by those who drew it up, were doomed to be hanged,
drawn and quartered without a trial, and their property to be confiscated,
— and for the first time in European history, even the power of pardon-
ing in respect to them was, after a certain period had passed, taken away
from the crown, — unless the persons so named, many hundreds of whom
could never learn of it, surrendered themselves to justice by an early day,
this atrocious measure, which when passed was kept in strict concealment
until the period for pardon had passed, which to read of even at this dis-
tance of time excites horror, is one which their recent history tells us
would have been scouted even by semi-barbarians ; the revolted ne-
groes of Brazil and the bloodthirsty Indians of Guatemala. In com-
parison with this, the swindling by issue of base money; the conversion
of old iron picked up in the streets and arsenals of the value of three-
pence into coins forced into circulation at that of a guinea ; while the
protestants of Dublin, who were forced to receive it, were subjected
to a tariff of former prices ; even this open-faced robbery on the part
of James, of which the news reached them by the same messengers,
seems comparatively less infamous. But the crudest of all was the
treatment of those High church divines. These men, who still pro-
claimed the doctrine of the divine right of James, notwithstanding
their exclusion from office and official functions, simply because they
were protestants, were either shut up in prison or insulted and shot
at by the heretic-abhorring soldiery. Ronquillo, the bigoted member
of the church of Rome who then represented the King of Spain at
the court of James, wrote to his master about this conduct with in-
dignation ; and said that the inconveniences suffered by the Catholics
in England were nothing at all in comparison with the barbarities ex-
ercised against the protestants by the Roman Catholics in Ireland.
By these acts the Enniskilleners too well knew what awaited them
should the .Jacobites conquer all Ireland.

Nor was this all, or the worst. Irritated at the rejection of all terms
offered by James, and piqued at the repeated defeats his forces had sus-

GUSTAVUS HAMILTON, VISCOUNT BOYNE. 453

tained, it was determined at Dublin that an attack should be made upon
the Enniskilleners from several quarters at once. General Macarthy, an
officer descended from the ancient Irish family of that name; an officer
who had long served with distinction in the French army under an as-
sumed name ; an officer who had succeeded in driving forth a thriving
protestant colony from Kinsale and in reducing Munster, and who in
consequence had been rewarded by James with the title of Viscount
Mountcashel, marched towards Lough Erne from the east with three
regiments of foot, two regiments of dragoons, and some troops of cav-
alry. A considerable force, which lay encamped near the mouth of
the river Drouse, under the command of the celebrated Sarsfield, was
at the same time to advance from the west. The Duke of Berwick was
to come from the north with such horse and dragoons as could be
spared from the army which was besieging Londonderry. The En-
niskilleners were not fully apprised of the whole plan which had been
laid for their destruction. Gustavus Hamilton received intelligence
first of the approach of Sarsfield's force ; and according to the method
of warfare uniformly pursued by him, he sent off the gallant Loyd with
a thousand men to encounter this enemy. After a rapid march of
twenty miles Loyd succeeded in surprising the Munster camp, and at
the close of a short and a furious contest, routed their five thousand
well armed soldiers with great slaughter, and but little loss on his own
side. They had no sooner returned to Enniskillen than they were
apprised that Macarthy was on the road with a force exceeding any
they could bring into the field; and was not far from their town.
Their anxiety was in some degree relieved by the return of a deputation
they had sent to Kirke, the commander of an expedition sent for the re-
lief of Londonderry from Liverpool, and which had arrived in Lough
Foyle on the fifteenth of June. " Kirke,'' says Lord Macaulay, " could
spare no soldiers ; but he had sent some arms, some ammunition, and
some experienced officers, of whom the chief were Colonel Wolseley
and Lieutenant- colonel Berry. These officers had come by sea round the
coast of Donegal ; and had run up the Erne. On Sunday, the twenty-
ninth of July, it was known that their boat was approaching the island
of Enniskillen. It was with difficulty they made their way to the cas-
tle through the crowds which hung on them, blessing God that dear
old England had not quite forgotten the sons of Englishmen who up-
held their cause against great odds, in the heart of Ireland." " Wolse-
ley seems to have been in every respect well qualified for his post.
Though himself regularly bred to war, he seems to have had a peculiar
aptitude for the management of irregular troops ; and his intense ha-
tred of popery was, in the estimation of the men of Enniskillen, the
first of all qualifications for command. The return of the deputation
with these officers and supplies, did not take place one day too soon.
On the very day previous, an account came to Enniskillen that Crom
castle had been invested by the army under Mountcashel to the great
alarm of its little garrison, who, as they reported in the despatch to
governor Hamilton, " were totally unaccustomed to cannon." Wolse-
ley assuming the chief command, as both Hamilton and Loyd were
broken down for the time by past exertions, at once determined to raise
the siege. On the very day following their arrival, he sent Berry for-

454 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

ward with such troops as could be instantly put in motion, and pro-
mised to follow speedily with a larger force.

Berry had approached within a few miles of a new position taken
by Macarthy in advance, when, encountering a much more numerous
body of dragoons, commanded by the notorious Anthony Hamilton, he
retreated judiciously to a pass some miles in the rear, where a narrow
causeway led across a marsh, with a copse of brushwood on both sides, at
its further extremity, within which he placed his men. Hamilton came
up immediately, and dismounting his troopers near to the causeway, com-
menced firing over the bog and into the copses. At the first fire of the
Enniskilleners Hamilton was severely wounded. In their next discharge
the second, who then assumed the command, was shot dead. More than
thirty of their men fell with them. The dragoons then fled, and were
pursued with great slaughter for upwards of a mile. " Macarthy soon
came up to support Hamilton ; and at the same time Wolseley came
up to support Berry. The hostile armies were now in presence of each
other. Macarthy had five thousand men and several pieces of artillery.
The Enniskilleners were under three thousand ; and they had marched
in such haste that they had brought only one day's provisions. It was
therefore absolutely necessary for them either to fight instantly or to
retreat. Wolseley determined to consult the men ; and this determina-
tion, which in ordinary circumstances would have been most unworthy
of a general, was fully justified by the peculiar composition and temper
of the little army, an army made up of gentlemen and yeomen fight-
ing, not for pay, but for their lands, their wives, their children, and
their God. The ranks were drawn up under arms ; and the question
was put, ' Advance or Retreat ? ' The answer was an universal shout
of ' Advance.' He instantly made his dispositions for an attack.
The enemy, to his great surprise, began to retire. The Enniskilleners
were eager to pursue with all speed, but their commander, suspecting
a snare, restrained their ardour, and positively forbade them to break
their ranks. Thus one army retreated, and another followed, through
the little town of Newtown Butler. About a mile from that town the
Irish faced about and made a stand. Their position was well chosen.
They were drawn up on a hill at the foot of which lay a deep bog.
A narrow paved causeway which lay across the bog was the only road
by which the Enniskilleners could advance ; for on the right and left
were pools, turf- pits, and quagmires, which afforded no footing to
horses. Macarthy placed his cannon in such a manner as to sweep
this causeway. Wolseley ordered his infantry to the attack. They
struggled through the bog, made their way to firm ground, and rushed
on the guns. There was then a short and desperate fight. The Irish
cannoneers stood gallantly to their pieces till they were cut down to a
man. The Enniskillen horse, no longer in danger of being mowed
down by the fire of the artillery, came fast up the causeway. The Irish
dragoons who had run away in the morning were smitten with another
panic, and without striking a blow galloped oft' the field. The horse
followed the example. Such was the terror of the fugitives that many
of them spurred hard till their beasts fell down, and then continued
to fly on foot, throwing away carbines, swords, and even coats, as en-
cumbrances. The infantry, seeing themselves deserted, flung down

GUSTAVUS HAMILTON, VISCOUNT BOYNE. 455

their pikes and muskets and ran for their lives." So far we have
copied the account of this fight from Lord Macaulay, as not only the
most concise but the most accurate. When he adds, " that now the
conquerors gave loose to that ferocity which has seldom failed to dis-
grace the civil wars of Ireland ; that the butchery was terrible ; that
near fifteen hundred of the vanquished were put to the sword," he
does not enquire whether quarter were asked and refused, whether it
was in human nature for the pursuing few to know when they were
safe against the fresh attacks of the flying many ; against those who
would have shown them no mercy had the fortune of the day been
the reverse and against them. Fear is cruel, and so is hate. Yet the
Enniskilleners took four hundred prisoners, including Macarthy him-
self, although wounded. In despair he had advanced upon them at
the last, courting death, and firing his pistol at them when otherwise,
as he was told, he might easily have escaped. The Enniskilleners lost
only twenty men killed and fifty wounded.

The battle of Newtown Butler was won on the same afternoon on
which the boom thrown over the Foyle was broken. At Strabane
the news met the army of James which was retreating from London-
derry. All was then terror and confusion ; the tents were struck ; the
military stores were flung by waggon-loads into the waters of the
Mourne ; and the dismayed Jacobites, leaving many sick and wounded
to the tender mercy of the victorious Williamites, fled to Omagh, and
thence to Charlemont. Sarsfield, who commanded at Sligo, found it
necessary to abandon that town, which was instantly occupied by
Kirke's troops.

Recovering from his illness, Gustavus Hamilton, with his renowned
Enniskilleners, joined the army under Duke Schomberg, which soon
after landed in Ireland ; and constituting themselves his advance
guard, distinguished themselves by feats of valour. On the twenty-
seventh of September a body of them, under Colonel Loyd, having
routed a force of five thousand men under Colonel O'Kelly, with
seven hundred men and three commanders slain, their own force not
exceeding a thousand men, the Duke was so pleased as to cause the
whole body to be drawn out in line, and rode along it uncovered to
express his thanks. In the month of December a party of them under
Colonel Wolseley had no sooner surprised the garrison at Belturbet
than they learned preparations were making at Cavan to recover the
place. According to their uniform custom they resolved to anticipate
the attack. Before they could reach Cavan the Duke of Berwick had
arrived there with a powerful reinforcement ; and the forces were
four thousand against one thousand. They met near Cavan. The
onset of the Enniskilleners carried all before it. Pursuing into the
town the conquerors dispersing began to plunder. The enemy con-
centrated in the fort, and began the fight anew. The Enniskilleners
would have certainly been cut to pieces, but Wolseley conceived the
idea of setting the town on fire. Thus forced out he was able to
lead them again against the rallied enemy, and again to defeat them
with great loss. Three hundred slain, two hundred prisoners, several
officers of rank inclusive, and a large booty of cattle were the result
of this foray.

456 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

In the battle of the Boyne Hamilton commanded a regiment, and
there signalized himself by his usual valour and conduct, having had
a horse killed under him on the thirtieth of June in the following year,
and a very narrow escape from death.* At the capture of Athlone he
waded the Shannon at the head of his regiment, being the first man
to plant his foot in the rapid stream, and on gaining possession distin-
guished himself by resisting the efforts of the French army encamped
close by to recover it. On account of its great importance the govern-
ment of this place was committed into his hands. He was present
and took a prominent part in all the principal battles fought by De
Ginckle.

On the reduction of the country he was made one of the privy
council, promoted to the rank of brigadier-general, and received grants
of forfeited lands. In the reign of Anne, he was further raised to
the rank of major-general, and represented the county of Donegal in
parliament, until created viscount Boyne. At the siege of Vigo he
commanded a regiment, and made himself so useful upon the occasion,
that he was presented with a service of plate by the queen.

In 1714, George I. advanced him to the dignity of baron Hamilton
of Stackaller. The same king granted him a military pension of
£182 10s. yearly, and promoted him to the title of viscount Boyne,
by patent dated 1717.

He married a daughter of Sir Henry Brooke, and had by her a
daughter and three sons. He died September, 1723, in the eighty-
fourth year of his age.

PATRICK SARSFIELD.

KILLED A. D. 1693.

The ancestors of this gallant officer on the paternal side, though ori-
ginally English, were among those early colonists who were proverbi-
ally said to have become more Irish than Irishmen. In the sixteenth
century, by one of the numerous revolutions of that country, the pro-
perty of the manor of Lucan came into the possession of the Sarsfields.
In 1566 Sir William Sarsfield was distinguished for his good services
against Shane O'Neile ; for which he was knighted by Sidney. His
mother was of noble native blood ; and he was firmly attached to the
old religion. He had inherited an estate of about £2,000 a-year, and
was therefore one of the wealthiest Roman Catholics of the kingdom.
His knowledge of courts and camps was such as few of his country-
men possessed. He had long borne a commission in the Life Guards,
and had lived much about Whitehall. He had fought bravely under
Monmouth on the continent, and against Monmouth at Sedgemoor.
" According to Avaux," the representative of Louis at the court of
James at Dublin, who made it his study to observe and to report to
his master upon the qualities of the public men of that court, " Pa-
trick Sarsfield," says Lord Macaulay, " had " when, in the commence-

* Preamble of his patent.

ment of 1689, elected one of the members of the city of Dublin in
the parliament of James, " more personal influence than any man in
Ireland. He describes him as indeed a gentleman of eminent merit,
brave, upright, honourable, careful of his men in quarters, and certain
to be always found at their head in the day of battle. His intrepidity,
his frankness, his boundless good nature, his stature, which far exceeded
that of ordinary men, and the strength which he exerted in personal
conflict, gained for him the affectionate admiration of the populace.
It is remarkable that the English of all ranks and opinions generally
respected him as a valiant, skilful, and generous enemy, and that even
in the most ribald farces which were performed by mountebanks in
Smithfield, he was always excepted from the disgraceful imputations
which it was then the fashion to throw upon the Jacobite party in
Ireland."

But not only were men like Sarsfield rare in that house of commons;
of which it has been truly said, " that of all the parliaments which
have met in the British islands, Barebones' parliament not excepted, it
was the most deficient in all the qualities which a legislature should
possess ; " he took not, he could not take, any share in the infamous
proceedings that have made its name odious in every Christian and
legal ear. The traitorous manoeuvre by which the garrison of Sligo
was withdrawn in the month of April left that port and town defence-
less, when it was immediately seized upon by a detachment under
Sarsfield, who was sent, in anticipation of the withdrawal, as the result
of the intelligence between Lundy of Londonderry and Tyrconnel of
Dublin. Sarsfield remained in charge, ever watchful of these daring
irregulars, until he was instructed to concentrate an expedition against
the armed colonists of Enniskillen ; an expedition which was surprised
and dispersed on the stream of the Drouse before its preparations were
completed. On the loss of the battle of Newtown-Butler, fought by
Macarthy against the Enniskilleners. he retired from Sligo before a
force sent by Kirke from Londonderry. So little did James appreciate
the merits of the best officer in his army, that it was not without a:reat
difficulty that the French ambassador Avaux and commander Rosen
prevailed on his Majesty to give Sarsfield the command of an expedi-
tion despatched in the autumn of that year into Connaught, and to raise
him to the rank of brigadier on the occasion. " He is a brave fellow,"
said James, with an air of intellectual superiority that must have made
his auditors stare, " but he is very scantily supplied with brains." Sars-
field, however, fully vindicated the opinion of his French admirers.
He dislodged the English from Sligo ; and he effectually secured Gal-
way, which had been in considerable danger.

It was one of the misfortunes of James to have repeated changes in
the generals sent him from France to take the command-in-chief of his
troops in Ireland. Lauzen, who succeeded the patron of Sarsfield,
although he brought with him seven to eight thousand French infantry,
the best perhaps the Continent could supply, was an unfortunate ex-
change for Rosen. At the battle of the Boyne, in apprehension that
the left wing of the Jacobite army would be turned, and a pass, in the
rear of the fight, called Duleek, be seized by the troops of William,
which had forced a passage over the bridge of Slane, Lauzen not only

458 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

detached all his own men, but the horse of Sarsfield and Sarsfield him-
self, to cover that only possible line of retreat, leaving the native forces
to meet the strength of the English, Enniskilleners, and Dutch, in the
centre and right, without an officer capable of handling them. Thus
prevented from displaying the skill and courage which his enemies
allowed him to possess, Sarsfield could, on this fatal day for his master,
only protect James in his flight with his horse, while the French
infantry with considerable coolness covered the retreat of the beaten
and disorderly Irish horse and foot.

The conduct of the native soldiery, in the series of fights which
terminated in this crowning victory of the Williamites, had sunk their
military reputation to the lowest point, and had exposed them to the
bitter contempt both of their enemies and of their allies. The Jacob-
ites at Paris, English and Scotch, never spoke of them but as dastards
and traitors. The French were so exasperated at the reports that
reached them of their behaviour, that Irish merchants, who had been
many years settled at Paris, durst not walk the streets for fear of being
insulted by the populace. So strong was the prejudice, that stories
were current to explain the intrepidity with which the horse had
fought as contrasted with the pusillanimity of the foot soldiers. It
was said that the troopers were not men of the aboriginal races, but
descendants of the old English of the Strongbow conquest, or the Scots
of the Ulster settlement. And notwithstanding Lord Macaulay's faint
contradiction, this was unquestionably true of their officers, and largely
of the men also. The forlorn hope, who were cut off to a man after
leaping their horses over the wall into the Windmill-hill outwork of
Londonderry, were Butler's, under the command of a Butler of Ormonde
of the line of Mountgarret. The cavalry which made the gallant at-
tempt to retrieve the day at the Boyne, and which had so nearly suc-
ceeded, were chiefly of the Kilkenny Normans, and were led by a
Hamilton, of Scottish ancestry. Sarsfield himself, the first swords-
man of their force, was of the hated Saxon race. The correspondence
of Avaux, of Rosen, of Lauzen, and of St. Ruth, the representatives, at
different times during this period, of France in Ireland, abounds with
complaints of the conduct of the Irish force. The language of James
himself, in the unseemly speech he addressed to the Lord Mayor of
Dublin on the morning after his flight from the field, teemed with
reproaches of the cowardice of that official's countrymen. But in truth
the Irish foot had become a curse and a scandal to Ireland through
lack of military administration alone. A few months of strict
discipline and regular drilling have frequently turned rude but
athletic and enthusiastic peasants into good soldiers. But the Irish
foot soldiers had not merely not been well-trained; they had been
elaborately ill-trained. The greatest of our generals repeatedly and
emphatically declared that even the admirable army which had fought
its way under his command from Torres Yedras to Toulouse, would, if
he had suffered it to contract habits of pillage, have become, in a few
weeks, unfit for all military purposes. But, from the day on which
they were enlisted, the foot soldiers of James were not merely per-
mitted, but invited, to supply the deficiencies of pay by marauding.
Accordingly, after eighteen months of nominal soldiership, they were

PATRICK SARSFIELD. 459

positively further from being soldiers than on the day they had joined
the ranks. As to the question of race, the more the early history of
the country is examined into, the more evident it is that the popula-
tion of Ireland is mixed in a much larger measure than is generally
supposed of the same elements as those of England and Scotland,
although perhaps not in the same proportions. Although yielding in
course of ages to the influence of the language of the country which
was that of the ministers of their religion, it is manifest that Scot and
Pict, Dane and Norman and Saxon, all warlike races, all having mi-
grated originally from the north of Europe, obtained at different
epochs permanent or temporary rule over more or less of the soil of
the island, and gradually blended with and impressed their character
on the few survivors of the earlier populations. How little ground
indeed there was for the imputation of natural poltroonery has since
been signally proved by many heroic achievements in every part of the
srlobe.

With the sentiments we have referred to, however, on the part of
the French officers and men, as to the military character of the Irish
infantry, it is not to be wondered at, that, when the fugitives from
the Boyne had taken refuge, discomfited, indeed, and disgraced,
but very little diminished in numbers, in the city of Limerick, to
which they were speedily followed by William, and the fortifications of
which were indeed scarce worthy of the name, the allies should have
laughed at the idea of defending them, and should refuse to throw
away their lives in hopeless resistance to the advancing army. But,
undisciplined and disorganised at it was, there was much spirit,
though little firmness, in the Irish infantry. And when they rallied at
Limerick, their blood was up. Patriotism, fanaticism, shame, revenge,
despair, had raised them above themselves. With one voice officers
and men insisted that the city should be defended to the last. At the
head of those who were for resisting was the brave Sarsfield ; and his
exhortations diffused through all ranks a spirit resembling his own.
All honour to the man who refused to despair of the courage of his
countrymen, or of the cause of his country and his king. A compromise
was made. The French troops, with Tyrconnel who shared their sen-
timents, retired to Galway. The great body of the native army, about
twenty thousand strong, remained in Limerick. A French captain, —
Boisseleau, who understood the character of the Irish better, and there-
fore judged them more favourably than the rest of his countrymen, still
held the chief command. When it became known in the English camp
that the French troops had quitted Limerick, and that the Irish only
remained, it was expected that the city would be an easy conquest ; nor
was that expectation unreasonable, for even Sarsfield desponded. One
chance, in his opinion, there still was. William had brought with him
none but small guns. Several large pieces of ordnance, a great quan-
tity of provisions and ammunition, and a bridge of tin boats, which in the
then watery plain of the Shannon was frequently needed, were slowly
following from Cashel. If guns and gunpowder could be intercepted
and destroyed, there might be some hope. If not, all was lost ; and
the best thing that a brave and high-spirited Irish gentleman could do

460 TRANSITION".— POLITICAL.

was to forget the country which he had in vain tried to defend ; and to
seek in some foreign land a home and a grave.

A few hours, therefore, after the English tents had been pitched
before Limerick, Sarsfield set forth, under cover of the night, with a
strong body of horse and dragoons. He took the road to Killaloe, and
crossed the Shannon there. During the day he lurked with his band
in a wild mountain tract named from the silver mines which it con-
tains. In this desolate region Sarsfield found no lack of scouts or of
guides. He learned in the evening that the detachment which guarded
the English artillery had halted for the night about seven miles from
William's camp, under the walls of an old castle, in apparent security.
When it was dark, the horsemen quitted their hiding place, and fol-
lowed their guides to the spot. The surprise was complete. About
sixty fell. One was taken prisoner. The rest fled. A huge pile was
made of waggons and pieces of cannon. Every gun was stuffed with
powder ; and the whole mass was blown up. ' If I had failed in this
attempt,' said the gallant Sarsfield to his solitary prisoner, a lieutenant,
' I should have been off to France.'

Sarsfield had long been the favourite of his countrymen ; and this
most seasonable exploit, judiciously planned and vigorously executed,
raised him still higher in their estimation. Their spirits rose ; and the
besiegers began to lose heart. William did his best to repair his loss.
Two of the guns which had been blown up were found to be still ser-
viceable. Two more were sent for from Waterford. Batteries were
constructed of small field pieces. Some outworks were carried. A
small breach was made in the rampart. But ere this oould be done,
the rains began to fall. The swampy ground began to engender fever.
A great eftbrt must be made to carry the place at once. If that effort
failed the siege must be raised.

It failed. On the twenty-seventh of August the city was entered
by five hundred English grenadiers. The Irish fled before the assail-
ants, who in the excitement of victory had not waited for orders. But
then a terrible street fight began. The defenders, as soon as they had
recovered from their surprise, stood resolutely to their arms ; and the
English grenadiers, overwhelmed by numbers, were, with great loss,
driven back to the counterscarp. The struggle was long and desper-
ate. The very women took part in it, and flung stones and broken
bottles at the assailants. When the conflict was the fiercest a mine
exploded, and hurled a German battalion into the air. Slowly and
sullenly the besiegers, late in the evening, returned to the camp.
Gladly would they have renewed the attack on the morrow. The
soldiers vowed to have the town or die. But the powder was now
nearly exhausted ; the rain fell in torrents ; the roads, deep in mud,
were approaching a state when retreat would be impossible ; the deadly
pestilence was hovering over them. Sarsfield's blow had told. Wil-
liam hastened to remove his troops to a healthier region. It was with
no pleasurable emotions that Lauzun and Tyrconnel learned at Gal-
way the fortunate issue of the conflict in which they had refused to
take a part. They were weary of Ireland ; they were apprehensive
that their conduct would be unfavourably represented in France ; they

PATRICK SARSFIELD. 461

therefore determined to be beforehand with their accusers, and took
ship together for the continent.

Tyrconnel, before he departed, delegated his civil authority to one
council and his military to another. The young Duke of Berwick
was declared commander-in-chief; but this dignity was merely nomi-
nal. Sarsfield, undoubtedly the first of Irish soldiers, was placed last
on the list of the councillors to whom the conduct of the war was en-
trusted ; and some believed that he would not have been in the list at
all, had not the viceroy feared that the omission of so popular a name
might produce a mutiny.

From October 1G90 till May 1691 no military operation on a large
scale was attempted in Ireland. The part of that kingdom which still
acknowledged James as king, could scarcely be said to have any gov-
ernment. The only towns of any note were Limerick and Galway,
where the shopkeepers underwent such oppression as to steal away,
when an opportunity presented itself, with their stuffs to the territory
occupied by the troops of William. Merchant ships were boarded on
arrival at these ports, and their cargoes taken by force to be paid for
in the debased coinage of iron, or in native commodities at arbitrary
prices. Neither the council of regency nor the council of war were
popular. The Irish complained that men who were not Irish were en-
trusted with a large share in the administration. The discontent soon
broke forth into open rebellion. A great meeting was held of officers,
peers, lawyers, and prelates. It was resolved that the government set
up by the lord-lieutenant was unknown to the constitution ; that he
had no power to delegate his authority, when himself absent, to a junto
composed of his creatures. The Duke of Berwick was told he had as-
sumed a power to which he had no right ; and would only be obeyed
if he would consent to govern by the advice of a council wholly Irish.
This young nobleman yielded, but with reluctance, and continued to
be a puppet in a new set of hands ; but finding he had no real autho-
rity, altogether neglected business, and gave himself up to such kind
of pleasure as so dreary a place afforded. There being among the
Irish chiefs none of weight and authority enough to control the rest,
Sarsfield for a time took the lead. But Sarsfield, though eminently
brave and active in the field, was little skilled in the administration
of war, and still less skilled in civil business. His nature was too un-
suspicious and indulgent for a post in which it was hardly possible to
be too distrustful or too severe. He believed whatever was told him ;
he signed whatever was set before him. The commissaries, encour-
aged by his lenity, robbed and embezzled shamelessly on every side,
nominally for the public service, but really for themselves, every thing
on which they could lay their hands, even on the property of the priests
and prelates.

Early in the spring of 1691, the anarchy of this state of things came
to an end by the return of Tyrconnel to Ireland, and of the Duke of
Berwick to France. Tyrconnel brought gold and clothing for the
army ; and announced the early arrival of provisions and military stores.
The patent of the earldom of Lucan was also sent from James by him, in
recompense of the services of the gallant Sarsfield. But the command-
in-chief of his army in Ireland was again bestowed on a French officer

162 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

named St. Ruth. The second in command was also a Frenchman*
named D'Usson. A numerous staff of officers to drill and discipline
the Irish soldiers was on board a fleet, which brought a plentiful sup-
ply of corn and flour ; and which arrived shortly afterwards.

St. Ruth had seen service. The Irish regiments in the French ser-
vice had formed part of the army under his command in Savoy, and
had behaved extremely well. He was famous as the most merciless per-
secutor of the protestants of his own country. Disappointed at the
condition of the forces he was sent to command, he nevertheless set
himself to the task of disciplining them with rigorous activity. A few
days after the arrival of St. Ruth, he was informed the army of Wil-
liam was ready to move. On the seventh of June, Ballymore was sur-
rendered to it. On the nineteenth, under the command of De Ginckle,
a most distinguished general raised in the Dutch service, it sat down
before Athlone, the most important military position in the island, and
next day the half of the town on the south bank of the Shannon fell
into its hands. There was discord in the Irish councils. Tyrconnel,
to the disgust of the natives, was in the town, and exercising his autho-
rity over the French commander, so as to excite the indignation of a
powerful party in the army. On the other hand, he sent his emissa-
ries to all the camp fires to make a party among the common soldiers
against the French general.

The only thing in which Tyrconnel and Saint Ruth agreed was in
dreading and disliking Sarsfield. " Not only," says Lord Macaulay,
" was he popular with the great body of his countrymen; he was also
surrounded by a knot of retainers whose devotion to him resembled the
devotion of the Ishmaelite murderers to the Old Man of the Moun-
tain. It was known that one of these fanatics, a colonel, had used
language which, in the mouth of an officer so high in rank, might well
cause uneasiness. ' The king,' this man had said, ' is nothing to me.
I obey Sarsfield. Let Sarsfield tell me to kill any man in the whole
army ; and I will do it.' Sarsfield was indeed too honourable a man
to abuse his immense power over the minds of his worshippers. But
the viceroy and the commander-in-chief might not unnaturally be dis-
turbed by the thought that Sarsfield's honour was their only guarantee
against mutiny and assassination. The consequence was, that at the
crisis of the fate of James' cause in Ireland, the services of the first of
Irish soldiers were not used, or were used with jealous caution ; and
that if he ventured a suggestion, it was received with a sneer or a
frown."

While these disputes were going on in the Jacobite camp, and on
the evening of thirtieth June, when Saint Ruth was in his tent writing
to his master complaints against Tyrconnel, when the second in com-
mand was enjoying himself at table, when part of the garrison was
idling, part dozing, fifteen hundred English grenadiers, each wearing
in his hat a green bough, entered suddenly the deep and strong stream,
and in a few minutes were on the firm land on the Connaught side of the
Shannon. " Taken! " said Saint Ruth in dismay, " It cannot be. A town
taken, and I close by with an army to relieve it !" Cruelly mortified, he
struck his tent under cover of the night, and retreated in the direction
of Galway. A scarcity of forage, the near presence of an hostile

PATRICK SARSFIELD. 463

army superior in numbers, the approach of the autumnal rains, and
the danger of the pestilence which usually accompanies them, had led
the English general to call a council of war that very morning, and to
propose that the besiegers should either at once force their way across
the river or retreat. To effect a passage over the shattered remains of
the bridge seemed impossible. It was resolved to do it by the deep
ford, and to do it that afternoon at six o'clock on a signal from the
steeple of the church ; — the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt, the Duke of
Wurtemberg, Tolmash, and other gallant officers, to whom no part in
the enterprise had been assigned, insisting on leading the brave grena-
diers as private volunteers.

Great were the criminations and recriminations in the Catholic camp
after so great a disaster. It did not matter how keen a Jacobite any
follower of James might be, how high his rank or character, how great
the sacrifices he had made to loyalty, if he were not also an adherent
of the church of Rome, the Irish Jacobites would have none of him.
Even if a Catholic and not also a soldier, if he were not of Irish birth,
his presence would not be tolerated amongst them. If both Jacobite
and Romanist, and soldier to boot, if he disapproved of the repeal of the
Act of Settlement, or of the Act of Attainder, he must not be one of
them. Among those who had adhered with unswerving fidelity to James
was a Scottish officer named Thomas Maxwell. Although a Romanist,
he was not a bigot, and he had not concealed his dislike of the transac-
tions of the Parliament of 1689. His nomination as one of the Council
of War by Tyrconnel, had mainly led to the rebellion already noted of
the previous autumn by which he was turned out and escaped to France.
It was even recommended by one of the intriguers who sailed in the
same ship that he should be thrown into the sea. He returned with
Tyrconnel, and was entrusted, contrary to the wish of a powerful party,
by Saint Ruth, with the charge of the works on that part of the
Connaught shore where the ford lay. He was taken prisoner when his
forces had fled to a man. Nevertheless the enemies of the lord-
lieutenant charged his obstinacy with the fatal result by having over-
ruled Saint Ruth in the matter of this Scotchman. The friends of
Tyrconnel blamed the French general on the other hand for refusing
to take precautions suggested by Maxwell and Tyrconnel, which would
have made a surprise impossible. Tyrconnel, however, had to give way
and retire to Limerick ; and Saint Ruth remained in undisputed
possession of the supreme command.

Still harmony was not restored. Saint Ruth was bent on trying the
chances of a battle. Most of the Irish officers, witli Sarsfield at their
head, were of a different mind. They advised that the greater part of
the infantry should be employed in garrisoning the walls of Limerick
and of Galway ; and that the horse, with the remainder of the foot
soldiers, should get into the rear of the enemy and cut off his supplies.
If he should sit down before Galway, that they should then make a
push for Dublin, which was altogether defenceless. It seems most likely
that if his judgment had not been biassed by his passions, Saint Ruth
would have adopted this course. But he was smarting from the pftin
of a humiliating defeat for which he was not entirely blameless. His
enemies would make the most of this to his prejudice with his master.

464 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

To avoid the displeasure of Louis something must be done, and that
was to fight and to conquer, or to perish. The spot chosen by Saint
Ruth for this great trial showed great judgment. His army was
drawn up on the slope of a hill, which was almost surrounded with red
bog. In front, near the edge of the morass, were fences out of which
a breast-work was constructed. The old castle of Aghrim stood in
the rear. In the few days of preparation the French commander
evinced every quality of a great officer. He sought by familiarity and
kindness to win the affections of the soldiery he had formerly despised.
He used religious stimulants of the most powerful kind to brace their
resolve to fight like martyrs and heroes. It is admitted on every side
that he succeeded, and that the Irish forces were never known to fight
with more resolution than at the battle which bears the name of this old
castle. On the twelfth of July, however, after being ten hours under
arms, six of them marching in a deep fog, the English army attacked
through the swamp ; were again and again driven back ; and again and
again returned to the struggle. The night was closing in, and still the
advantage was on the side of the Irish. " The day is ours," said Saint
Ruth, and he waved his hat in the air, " We will drive them before
us to the gates of Dublin." But fortune was already on the turn. At
a place where two horsemen could scarcely ride abreast, the English and
Frencli Protestant cavalry under Mackay and Ruvigny at last succeeded
in passing the bog. On seeing this Saint Ruth was hastening to the
rescue, when a cannon ball took off his head. It was thought it would
be dangerous to let this event become known. Till the fight was over
neither army was aware he was no more. In the crisis of the battle
there was none to give directions. Sarsfield was in command of the
reserve, but he had been strictly enjoined by Saint Ruth not to stir
without orders, and no orders came. But for the coming on of a
moonless night, made darker by a misty rain, scarcely a man would
have escaped ; for the conquerors were in a savage mood. A report
had spread that English prisoners taken in the early part of the fight,
and who had been admitted to quarter, were afterwards butchered. But
the obscurity enabled Sarsfield, with a few squadrons which remained
unbroken, to cover the retreat. The number of the Irish that fell
was not les3 than seven thousand, of whom four thousand were counted
on the field of battle.

The death of Saint Ruth restored the supreme authority to Tyr-
connel, who made preparations for repairing the fortifications of
Limerick, and for storing supplies against a siege ; for which the means
of defence — had not the fall of Athlone and the slaughter of Aghrim
broken the spirit of the army — were by no means contemptible.
Excepting Sarsfield, and a brave Scotch officer named Wauchop, the
chiefs of the Irish force loudly declared that it was time to think of
capitulating. Tyrconnel, although persuaded that all was lost, hoped
the struggle might be prolonged until permission to treat should arrive
from James at Saint Germains ; and prevailed on his desponding country-
men to swear not to capitulate until that permission should arrive. A
few days thereafter Tyrconnel himself was struck with apoplexy, under
which he succumbed in three days. A commission from James, under
the great seal of Ireland, when opened after this event, nearly led to

another rebellion, because of the three Lords Justices therein named
to govern Ireland, in such a case as the death of the Viceroy, two were
born in England. Fortunately the commission was accompanied by
instructions which forbade these Lords Justices to interfere with the
conduct of the war ; and consequently it was practically a nullity, as
war was now the only business to be attended to within that city.
The government was therefore really in the hands of Sarsfield. Two
thousand three hundred men, the garrison of Gal way, which yielded
by capitulation on this condition, were shortly afterwards added to its
garrison under the French officer D'Usson. On the day Tyrconnel died,
August fourteenth, the advanced guard of William's army came within
sight of Limerick. Shortly afterwards several English vessels of war
came up the Shannon and anchored about a mile below the city. The
batteries, on which were planted guns and bombs very different from
those which William had been forced to use on the preceding autumn,
played day and night, and soon roofs were blazing and walls were
crashing in every corner of the city, and whole streets were reduced
to ashes.

Still the place held out; the garrison was, in numerical strength,
little inferior to the besieging army ; and it seemed not impossible that
the defence might be prolonged till the equinoctial rains should a se-
cond time compel the English to retire. Grinckle determined on strik-
ing a bold stroke. No point in the whole circle of the fortifications
was more important, and no point seemed to be more secure than the
Thomond bridge, which joined the city to the camp of the Irish horse
on the Clare bank of the Shannon. The Dutch general's plan was to
separate the infantry within the ramparts from the cavalry without,
and this plan he executed with great skill, vigour, and success. He
laid a bridge of ten boats on the river, crossed it with a strong body of
troops, drove before him in confusion fifteen hundred dragoons who
made a faint show of resistance, and marching towards the quarters of
the Irish horse, took possession of their camp almost without a blow
being struck, along with great store of provisions, and the arms which
were flung away by the flying foemen, whose beasts fortunately were
grazing at a short distance, and nearly all escaped capture.

But this was not all. Returning in a few days at the head of a few
regiments to the Clare bank of the Shannon, he attacked and carried
the forts which protected the Thomond bridge, thus completely isolat-
ing the city on all sides. Unfortunately a French officer in command
at the city gate opening on this bridge, afraid that the pursuers would
enter the city with the fugitives from the storming of the forts, caused
the drawbridge portion which was nearest to the city to be drawn up
by which many lives were sacrificed. Many went headlong into the
stream and perished there. Others cried for quarter, and held up their
handkerchiefs in token of submission. But the conquerors were mad
with rage ; their cruelty could not be immediately restrained, and no
prisoners were made till the heaps of corpses rose above the parapets.
Of eight hundred men, which constituted the garrison, only about a
hundred and twenty escaped into Limerick. This disaster seemed
likely to produce a mutiny in the besieged city. Had the French offi-
cer not been mortally wounded, he would have been sacrificed to the

II. 2 g Ir.

466 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

fury of the multitude, for having ordered the drawbridge to be drawn
up. The French commander wrote to his master, that after this fight
the spirit of the garrison was so broken that it was impossible to con-
tinue the struggle. Up to this time the voice of Sarsfield had been for
stubborn resistance. But even Sarsfield lost heart now, and was not
only willing but impatient to treat. The details and progress of the
capitulation that followed have passed into the domain of European
history ; and have been commented upon in our Historical Introduc-
tion to this volume. For the favourable terms obtained, considering the
circumstances and the temper of the times, some credit no doubt is due
to the reputation for gallantry and firmness of the subject of this me-
moir, and to his opportune application; as well as to the circumstance
that a formidable French fleet with soldiers, arms, and abundant stores
was near, which arrived at Dingle Bay a day or two after the
signing of the Treaties, viz., on the first of October 1691. But there
cannot be a doubt that still more credit is due to King William
himself; whose instructions, framed with a view to such an occasion,
were sent for by Ginckle before drawing out his proposals, which
were those substantially settled on. At a time when no protestant
worship was allowed in France, nor, generally speaking, in any ca-
tholic country, and when even the episcopalian form of worship
was virtually proscribed in Scotland although that of the majority of
the British nation, the first article of the treaty of Limerick, granting
to the Roman Catholics of Ireland the free exercise of their religion,
on the sole condition of taking a simple oath of allegiance, " when
thereunto required," seems exceptionally liberal. The treaty embraced
all places in which resistance to the forces of William was then being
made, and its conclusion put an end to the civil war in Ireland.
Sarsfield was indirectly honoured in it, being recognised therein by
his title of earl of Lucan, a title granted while in arms against the Brit-
ish nation, by an exile, and an abdicated king. His own honourable
feeling was also manifested, in a clause providing for repayment to a
certain Col. John Brown, of monies, which he; Sarsfield, had received for
the public service of his party from this gentleman, which the owner
had destined to pay protestants holding executions against him, and
which Sarsfield had undertaken to satisfy in his relief. During the in-
terval betwixt the adjustment of the articles and the arrival of the
Lords Justices from Dublin to sign the treaty, a somewhat free and
friendly intercourse took place between the Irish and English officers
of the outposts of the two armies. Among the anecdotes widely circu-
lated, of what passed at these meetings, one in particular " was re-
ported," says Lord Macaulay, " in every part of Europe," and shows
not only the estimate on the part of Sarsfield, of the parties referred to,
but even more especially his jealousy for the reputation of his country-
men. " Ha3 not this last campaign," said Sarsfield to some English
officers, " raised your opinion of Irish soldiers?" " To tell you the truth,"
answered an Englishman, " we think of them much as we always did."
" However meanly you may think of us," replied Sarsfield, " change
kings with us, and we will willingly try our luck with you again."
" Sarsfield was doubtless thinking," adds his lordship, " of the
day on which he had seen the two sovereigns at the head of

PATRICK SARSFIELD. 467

two great armies," — viz., at the battle of the Boyne — " William
foremost in the charge, and James foremost in the flight." "How-
ever meanly you may think of us," has been, and still is, the
proud and painful feeling of cultivated Irishmen when their coun-
try and countrymen are sneered at for an assumed inferiority
which in their heart of hearts they know does not hold true. By the
military treaty it was agreed that such Irish officers and soldiers as
should declare that they wished to go to France should be conveyed
thither ; and should, in the mean time, remain under the command of
their own generals. The English general undertook to furnish a con-
siderable number of transports. French vessels were also permitted
to pass and repass freely between Brittany and Munster. Some of the
provisions of the civil treaty were in lenity beyond what any constitu-
tional authority could venture to assure without the express consent
of the legislature. Not only was an entire amnesty promised to all
comprised within its provisions ; not only were they allowed to retain
their property, and to exercise any profession which they had exercised
before the troubles ; not only were they not to be punished for any
treason, felony, and misdemeanour committed since the accession of
James ; but they were not even to be sued for damages on account of
any act of spoliation or outrage which they might have committed dur-
ing the three years of confusion. It was therefore properly added,
that the confirmation of these stipulations should depend on the parlia-
mentary ratification of the treaty ; which the government undertook to
use its utmost efforts to obtain.

Sarsfield having resolved to seek his fortune in the service of France,
was naturally desirous to carry with him to the continent such a body
of troops as would be an important addition to the army of Louis. On
the other hand, the commander of William's forces was as naturally
unwilling to see thousands of men sent to swell the forces of the
enemy of his master. Mutual altercation, and an appeal to the Irish
forces took place ; but the clergy, being on the side of the Jacobite general,
proved more than powerful on the day when a decision came to be
taken. Whether the sermons preached by the Roman Catholic priests
on that morning at the head of every regiment, — in which the sin of
consorting with unbelievers and the peril to the soul of enlisting in
the heretic army were indefatigably pressed — were, as English his-
torians assert, immediately, and before the pronouncing of the benedic-
tion by the bishop, followed by a plentiful allowance of brandy or not,
we cannot say, but the result was, that when the long procession had
closed, out of fourteen thousand infantry under arms, only three thou-
sand had filed off to indicate their wish to abide in Ireland, and eleven
thousand returned with Sarsfield to the city. The proportions in the
horsemen, who were encamped some miles from the town, were nearly
the same.

It is remarked here by Lord Macaulay, that the regiments consisting
of natives of Ulster filed off— that is, decided to enter the British army —
to a man ; and that there existed between the Scots of Ulster of ante-
Christian settlement — whom Lord Macaulay in mistake calls Celts —
and the native Irish of the other three provinces an antipathy which was
the inducing cause of this decision. His Lordship gives other instances

of this antipathy which will afterwards be referred to, an antipathy
which overruled the community of religion and language, and which
showed how, in critical epochs, the influence of race will overrule the
accidents of time and beliefs. In the course of the embarkation, there
occurred various embarrassments to Sarsfield and his officers. Lest
that large portion of his men who had selected to accompany him to
France, should change their minds, after the effects of the ecclesiastical
and material stimulants, to which reference has been made, had passed
away, he had them confined within the ramparts of that quarter of
the city of Limerick which by agreement still remained in the possession
of the Irish generals, and ordered the gates to be shut and strongly
guarded. And if the entire of the army had remained in Limerick
till the day of embarkation it would have been transported almost to a
man, carrying with it such of the families of the officers and soldiers as
happened to be present on the occasion. But many of the vessels in
which the voyage was to be performed lay at Cork, and in proceeding
thither many soldiers unable to bear the thought of separation, perhaps
for life, from all that was familiar and all that was dear, stole away
into the bogs. The Royal regiment, which had, on the day of the review,
set a striking example of fidelity to the cause of James, dwindled from
fourteen hundred down to five hundred men. In order to meet the
natural unwillingness of his men to leave their families in a state of
destitution, which he perceived was one chief cause of this desertion
— as these had crowded to meet their husbands and fathers, covering
all the roads to the place of embarkation — Sarsfield by a proclamation
confirmed the article of the treaty, assuring his soldiers that they
would be permitted to carry their wives and families to France. It
is probable he had formed an erroneous estimate of the number who
would demand a passage from Cork, and that he found himself, when
it was too late to alter his arrangements, unable to keep his word.
It is true that, after the soldiers had embarked, room was found for
the families of many. But, at the last, there remained a great multi-
tude clamorous to be taken on board, for whom no room could be
found ; and, as the ships began to move, a wail arose from the shore
which excited compassion in hearts not otherwise inclined to sympa-
thise with the disappointed emigrants, of women who clung to the
gunwale of the last of the boats. Some of them, it is said, were
even dragged into the sea as they clung, and had their hands cut off
and perished in the waves.

The perseverance and folly of James after his return to France suc-
ceeded in persuading a new minister of Louis to organise a formidable
descent upon England early in the spring of 1692. The camp which
was formed on the coast of Normandy contained all the Irish regiments
which were in the service of France, and they were placed under the
command of their countryman, Sarsfield. With them were to be joined
about ten thousand French troops. But after waiting some months, and
being joined by James himself and several of his confidants, when the
formidable French fleet which was to convey them had nearly reached
their encampment, it encountered the English and Dutch squadrons,
and was totally defeated at La Hogue. The expedition in conse-
quence was entirely broken up. Sarsfield we meet with as engaged

in the terrible fight of Landen, fought on the nineteenth of July, 1693,
betwixt the armies of France and of the allies, whence he was borne
stretched on a pallet, desperately wounded, from which he never rose
again. Some time after his departure from Ireland, he was married to
a daughter of the earl of Clanricarde, by whom he left a son, who died
unmarried in Flanders. His widow remarried with the duke of Ber-
wick. He was of stately height, overtopping all his companions by a
head.

His elder brother was married to a natural daughter of James II.,
and left a daughter his sole heiress, through whom the Sarsfield pro-
perty in Lucan has descended to the Vesey family.

With this memoir the distinctive and more important political bio-
graphies of the transition period properly terminate ; but there are
still a few names that merit notice in a work of the character of the
present one, from the connection of those who bore them with the his-
torical transactions of the period ; although, from lack of fitting mate-
rials, our notices must needs be slight. Indeed, the authentic per-
sonal traditions of the time are but scanty, and it is only as they pass
before us in the field or siege, that many persons, eminent in their day,
can be seen.

Colonel Richard Grace, killed a. d. 1691, was descended of a
race we had occasion to notice in our memoir of Raymond Le Gros.*
He was a younger son of Robert Grace, baron of Courtstown in the
county of Kilkenny. He had been a distinguished soldier in the great
rebellion, in which, both in England and Ireland, he had fought with
honour for the kings of the Stuart race. During the commonwealth
he served with distinction in Spain ; and, after the Restoration, was
chamberlain to the Duke of York. When he left that service of the
household to proceed to Ireland, to serve there in a military capacity,
it may be inferred he was far advanced in life. The amount of confi-
dence reposed in him, however, may be inferred from the fact, of his
being entrusted with the government of Athlone, the most important
strategic post, according to military authorities of that day, in central
Ireland. Eight days after the battle of the Boyne, King William de-
spatched a force consisting of ten regiments of foot and five of horse,
under James Douglas, a Scotch officer, who had distinguished himself
in fight, to reduce Athlone. The garrison was composed of three re-
giments of foot, with nine troops of dragoons and two of light cavalry.
There was, however, a larger body encamped at a small distance. Not-
withstanding the proclamation issued by William, and the stern exam-
ple made by him of hanging a soldier, who, after the victory of Boyne,
had slain three defenceless natives asking for quarter, the troops of
Douglas, intoxicated by their successes, and not held enough in disci-
pline by their commander, were guilty of gross outrages on the pea-
santry of the district who, on the march, had, on the faith of the royal
proclamation, flocked round the tent of their commander, and had re-

* Vol. i. p. 213.

470 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

ceived from him promises of such protection as he could afford. The
robbery and murder thus committed excited the hate and execration of
the district, and more than neutralized the feeling of despondency,
produced on the minds of their countrymen by the results of that fight.
It was perhaps owing to this circumstance, that the summons of Dou-
glas to surrender Athlone was received by Colonel Grace with a species
of defiance not quite reconcilable to the usage of civilized war.
" These are my terms," replied the aged veteran, firing his pistol at the
messenger.

The siege was protracted until sickness, more than the enemy, had
carried off four hundred men, without the assailants having made any
sensible impression on the defences ; when, forage having failed for the
horse, and Sarsfield, after the retreat of William's army from Limerick,
finding himself free, had approached with fifteen thousand men to raise
it, a speedy retreat became necessary. For this result we may claim
due honour to Colonel Grace, whose firmness, and the skilfulness of
his dispositions, maintained the town for another year to the Jacobite
cause. Of him we have it not in our power to record further than that
he remained at his post of command until the commencement of the
second siege of Athlone, on 19th June, 1691. On the second day
of the siege he was slain, in defending a breach in a bastion he had
caused to be erected during the winter, with a view of defending that
portion of the town called " the English side," which had been aban-
doned on the former attack. He was buried in the town he so ably
defended.

Teagub O'Regan, a general of native descent, — the O'Regans were
a sept of Leinster, (see notice of Maurice O'Regan the historian, and
ambassador of Macmurragh to Earl Strongbowjn our previous volume) —
had distinguished himself on the continent, and was so esteemed by
the viceroy of James, as to be entrusted with the defence of the fort of
Charlemont, which our readers will recollect was a place of early im-
portance, built by Lord Mountjoy, in the wars of Tyrone, and com-
manding the entrance into that part of Ulster. Under its shelter there
had grown up a town of great importance at the time before us.
Strong by nature, it had been made nearly impregnable by art. A strong
garrison held it. Two French regiments were sent by Marshal Schom-
berg to reduce it in the autumn of 1689; but they could only invest it,
and convert the siege into a blockade, for which its position afforded
great facilities. Accordingly, when supplies were sent from Dublin under
an escort of several hundred men, Schomberg gave instructions to allow
the whole party to enter after a show of resistance, but to take care that
none were permitted to return. The supplies they brought being small,
the situation of the garrison soon became worse than before. Various
sallies were made with the view of the escort returning whence they came,
but they were always driven back with loss. So obstinately was the
place held, that when at last honourable terms of surrender were ob-
tained, the nearly famished garrison were observed to be eating raw
hides when they marched out on 16th May 1690 ; and, like the Turks
at Kars, were generously supplied with food by the entering com-

TEAGUE O'EEGAN.

471

mander. After the surrender of Charlemont fort, O'Regan was sent
by James as governor of Sligo, and to take the chief command in the im-
mediately surrounding counties. By the Jacobite party Sligo was
considered a post important for maintaining the communications be-
twixt Connaught and Ulster. It had changed hands several times
during the war of the Revolution in Ireland. Soon after O'Regan
entered on the command, an army of observation under Lieut.- colonel
Ramsay approached its vicinity, and was attacked by him with great
energy ; but, on a strong reinforcement arriving, his soldiers fled,
and he himself narrowly escaped being taken in the flight. A
strong and masterly line of posts was then established against him
around, under the command of Colonel Mitchelbourne, whose head-
quarters were at Ballyshannon, by which all relief by land was shut
out, and the place became, to use the expression of Harris, " invested at
a distance." By his exertions indeed the fortifications of the town were
so greatly strengthened during the succeeding winter that the only mode
of reducing them was by starving, as at Charlemont the year previous ;
and although the inhabitants were reduced to the greatest distress from
the interruption of all supplies ; and although this was perfectly well
known to the besieging general, yet owing to the iron temper of O'Regan,
who, it was said, " could fast as well as fight," weeks on weeks elapsed
in unrelenting and vigilant league on the one side, and unrelaxed obsti-
nacy on the other, before negotiations were opened with a view to sur-
render. On this occasion the craft of Sir Teague proved more than a
match for the vigilant sagacity of Mitchelbourne. By deftly allowing
the latter to believe him open to the offer of a bribe, to be paid indi-
rectly to some of his relations, and which was not easily forthcoming,
Sir Teague succeeded in protracting negotiations, and so to improve
some misunderstanding betwixt Mitchelbourne and the investing militia
regiments under his command, as to lay in a plentiful stock of provi-
sions in corn and cattte, when the negotiations were ended by him
somewhat abruptly. It was considered by the government of William
in Ireland to be of the utmost importance to obtain possession of Sligo,
and so to prevent the possibility of the town affording winter quarters
to the Jacobites. This was the more imperatively necessary, as the
arrival of relief by sea from France was daily expected by both
parties, which, if allowed to be landed, would make its reduction that
year next to impossible.

A force of five thousand men was therefore organized under Lord
Granard. A part of this force, consisting of a regiment of dragoons
under Sir Albert Coninghame posted at Coloony, and intended
to unite themselves next day with a large body of infantry under an
Irish chieftain named Baldearg O'Chonell, were surprised during a fog
at daybreak by a party of five hundred chosen men from the garrison,
and dispersed with great loss of men and all their baggage, and their
commander, after being received as a prisoner, was slain. Meantime
Colonel Mitchelbourne had attacked the outworks and compelled the
garrison to retire from the town to a strong fort, called O'Regan's fort,
which commanded the town and river. This fort was of sod-work,
situate north-east of the town upon a high hill guarded by bastions
with platforms at either end, and the whole inclosed by a deep and

472 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

wide fosse from which the hill fell abruptly. It contained a deep draw-
well which supplied the garrison with water ; and large stores of food
and ammunition were laid up for an anticipated siege. More important
still, it commanded the only pass from the north of Connaught into
Donegal. While this fort therefore remained in the possession of the
Jacobites, the town, river, and pass were wholly in their power ; and
with the means hitherto at the command of the besiegers, to reduce it by
force was impossible. Lord Granard, however, was prepared for this
— having with considerable difficulty, arising from the want of horses of
sufficient strength, brought from Athlone a heavy park of artillery over
the Corlin mountains — when he ordered a battery to be raised and a fire
to be opened upon the fort. The garrison not having the patience to
wait the effects of its fire, which they would have found, as was the case
with Totleben's earth forts at Sebastopol, comparatively harmless,
became intimidated, and constrained their commander to beat a parley,
which terminated in their surrender on terms on the 15th September.
The garrison were permitted to march to Limerick with their arms and
baggage, and all the little garrisons around were included in the con-
vention.

Of Sir Teague O'Regan nothing farther is known. He was no doubt
included in the capitulation of Limerick which took place some weeks
afterwards, and accompanied the Irish army to France, there to engage
in a series of fights, such as that of Marsiglia in Piedmont in 1693,
of which Macaulay remarks, " This battle is memorable as the first of
a long series of battles in which the Irish troops retrieved the honour
lost by misfortunes and misconduct in domestic war. Some of the
exiles of Limerick," he adds, " showed, on that day, under the standard
of France, a valour which distinguished them among many thousands
of brave men."

Baldearg O'Donell. In our memoir of Hugh Roe O'Donell,* the
last chief of Tyrconnel, who lived in the latter part of Elizabeth's
reign, it was stated that Sir Hugh O'Donell, his father, had four sons ;
and that of these Hugh Roe was the eldest and Rory O'Donell was
the second. It was farther stated of the singularly gifted and ener-
getic noble Hugh Roe, that after the failure of the Spanish expedi-
tion, which settled in Kinsale, he retired to Spain in January, 1600,
with its commander, where he died on the 10th of September following.
In the life of Hugh, Earl of Tyrone,f it was further stated of this
second son, Rory O'Donell, who took an active part in the wars in
which Hugh Roe was engaged, that when the latter, finding no further
efforts were likely to be made by Spain in Ireland, made his submission
to Elizabeth's government and was received into allegiance by James,
he was joined in this act by Rory now chief of the Donells, and
that on the occasion he not only received back all the lands of the
family forfeited by treason, but was created by that monarch earl of
Tyrconnel. It was further mentioned, that both earls soon afterwards
began to suspect the government of plotting against them, and, in

* Vol. i. p. 324. f Vol. i. p. 511.

revenge, or in self-defence, plotted against the government ; that their
schemes failed ; that they fled to the continent ; and that their titles
and large estates were of new forfeited in absence. Tyrone went to
Rome; Rory, late earl of Tyrconnel, took refuge at the court of
Spain. The exiled chieftain was welcomed at Madrid as a good
Catholic flying from heretical persecutors. His illustrious descent and
princely dignity secured him the respect of the Castilian grandees.
His honours were inherited by a succession of banished men who lived
and died far from the land where the memory of their family was
fondly cherished by a rude peasantry and was kept fresh by the songs
of minstrels and the tales of begging friars. At length, in the eighty-
third year of the exile of this ancient dynasty, it was known over all
Europe that the Irish were again in arms for their independence.
Baldearg O'Donell — who called himself the O'Donell — the lineal repre-
sentative of this unfortunate Rory, had been bred in Spain and was
in the service of the Spanish government. He requested the permission
of that government to proceed to Ireland, But the house of Austria
was then in league with England, and the permission was refused.
The O'Donell made his escape ; and, by a circuitous route in the course
of which he visited Turkey, arrived at Kinsale shortly after the battle
of the Boyne and a few days after James had sailed thence for France.
The effect produced on the native population by the arrival of this solitary
wanderer was marvellous. Since Ulster had been colonized afresh by
the English great multitudes of the Irish inhabitants of that province
had migrated southward and were now leading a vagrant life in Con-
naught and Munster. These men, accustomed from their infancy to
hear of the good old times when the chiefs of the O'Donells governed
the mountains of Donegal in defiance of the lords of the pale, flocked
to the standard of the exiled stranger. He was soon at the head of
seven or eight thousand partizans, or, to use the name peculiar to
Ulster, Creaghts; a name derived from the appellation Cruithne, given by
the early Irish annalists to the strangers who had conquered Ireland from
the north where they had settled shortly after the Christian era ; a name
which Irish antiquarians have sought to identify with that of the Picts
both in Scotland and Ireland ; one which, with greater probability, we
find to apply in its first usage to the unconverted Scots and Picts
(alike) in both countries ; and which continued to be applied to both
even after their conversion to Christianity. Between these Creaghts
and the original Irish of the southern provinces there was little sympa-
thy, or, to speak more accurately, there was a marked aversion ; arising
not only from difference of race but from the accustomed resentment
of the conquered against their conquerors even after so many cen-
turies had elapsed. These followers adhered to O'Donell with a
loyalty very different from the languid sentiment which the feeble
James had been able to inspire. Priests and even bishops swelled
the train of the adventurer. Baldearg was so much elated by his
reception that he sent agents to France, who assured the minis-
ters of Louis, that, if furnished with arms and ammunition, he would
bring into the field thirty thousand Creaghts from Ulster ; and that
the Creaghts from Ulster would be found far superior in every mili-
tary quality to the Irish natives of Leinster, Munster, and Connaught.

474

TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

During the siege of Limerick by William, and while his army was
smarting under the blow inflicted by Sarsfield in the unexpected de-
struction of its artillery, the besiegers were astonished and amused by
the pompous entry of Baldearg into it at the head of his followers ;
while the hopes of its garrison were raised by his appearance to a
strange pitch. Numerous prophecies were recollected or invented. An
O'Donell with a red mark was to be the deliverer of his country ;
and " Baldearg " meant a red mark. An O'Donell was to gain a great
battle over the English near Limerick ; and at Limerick the O'Donell
and the English were brought face to face. And the bloody repulse
of the attempt to carry the city by assault which shortly followed
seemed to confirm this latter prophecy.

But Baldearg was not duped by the superstitious veneration of
which he was the object. During the winter of 1690-1 he saw enough
of the exhausted state of the country, the wretched squabbles of the
Jacobite leaders, and the unsoldierly qualities of the people, especially of
their feeling towards himself and his following to induce him to ques-
tion, as well the hopefulness of their successful resistance to the military
power of England, — of which as a soldier he was a not incompetent
judge, — as the prospect of advantage either to himself or to his people
from such success. His notion evidently was that the House of
O'Donell was as truly and indefeasibly royal as the House of Stewart;
and not a few of his clansmen were of the same mind. He held him-
self therefore at perfect liberty to act with or against either party as
might be most conducive to his own recognition as such. The
then Lord-lieutenant of James was actually in possession of the title
which might have been his. In the event of success also, he foresaw
that the influence of France would absorb everv thing that was valuable
in Ireland. While therefore there remained any doubt about the issue
of the great fight of 1691, that of Aghrim fought on the eleventh of
July, — Baldearg held aloof with his followers at a short distance.
On learning the defeat and death of the French general commanding
the forces of James he retreated to the mountains of Mayo, whence he
sent an agent to negotiate for his adhesion to the cause of William. A
treaty was made ; Baldearg with a portion of his devoted adherents,
over whom the spell which bound them to him was not altogether bro-
ken even by this change, joined General Ginckle and rendered on sev-
eral occasions, while accompanying a division of the English army, use-
ful service to the cause of William and Mary. It is charged against
him that at the commencement of this negotiation he demanded the re-
storation of the earldom formerly granted to his ancestor ; and that
failing in this, he accepted an annual pension of five hundred pounds.
We see nothing greatly wrong or undignified in this. By leaving the
service of Spain without permission he had lost his means of subsis-
tence ; and in bringing a considerable accession of strength to one of
the contending parties it was his duty to make for himself and for his
adherents the best arrangement in his power.

After the conclusion of the civil war in Ireland we find no further
mention of his name. The antipathy between his Creaghts and the
original or Irish race already referred to, which showed itself in the
refusal of the regiments of the former blood to volunteer for France after

the fatal capitulation of Limerick, was, Lord Macaulay supposes, aided
by his example and influence. It has been stated that he again re-
turned to Spain ; where we find even within the last few years a
distinguished general and statesman, the first minister of the Spanish
crown, bearing his ancient name.

Perhaps no more singular episode than this sudden appearance and
fervent reception, after nearly a century had passed, of the descendant
of their exiled chieftain had ever happened in the history of the race
of Donell. Its only parallel is the tenacity of the attachment, as re-
corded in Anderson's " Scottish Nation," of the Scots of Morayshire to
the descendants of the ancient line of Macbeth, and the enthusiastic
reception given by them once and again to those who were, or were
supposed to be, of his blood — even after several generations of the line
of Duncan had reigned on the Scottish throne.

The ethnological distinction between the Irish speaking inhabitants
of Ulster and those of the other provinces of Ireland here brought out,
has scarcely received any notice whatever at the hands of the historians
of Ireland. Even Lord Macaulay, who points to the fact of the anti-
pathy between the men of different provinces, as made evident from the
curious memorial which the agent of Baldearg O'Donell delivered to
Avaux the ambassador of Louis in Ireland, appears to have had no
conception that it had its basis in a difference of race. We recommend
our readers who doubt of this, to read over the life of Hugh Roe
O'Donell the great chief of the Donells.* They will find that he made
war on the chieftains of Connaught and Munster with as great avidity
as on the English themselves, even when these were in hostility to
England ; and that his allies were the Irish speaking Scotch of Arran
and North Argyle. The Irish speaking Creaghts of Ulster at other
times are found in the north-west of Scotland fighting under the ban-
ners of the opponents of the Scottish kings. But no such alliances be-
tween the Southern Irish and the Creaghts of Ulster are to be met with.

Henby Luttrell, a colonel in the army on the occasion of the
breaking out of the Revolution of 1688, a Roman Catholic, a lead-
ing adherent of James, and the second son of a family long settled
in the county of Carlow, had, with his elder brother Simon, also a
colonel, long served in France, whence he brought back to his native
Ireland a sharpened intellect and polished manners, a flattering tongue,
some skill in war, and much more skill in intrigue. By direction of
Tyrconnel, in his letters accompanying the writs, the members of the
house of commons of the parliament of James of 1689 were named to
the returning officers for the guidance of the few Roman Catholic elec-
tors who alone dared then to vote ; and in virtue of this nomination
Henry Luttrell was returned as member for his native county of Car-
low. With the exception of his brother Simon, Sir Richard Nagle
Plowden, and, in name only, the gallant Sarsfield (who did not serve),
he may be considered as almost the only one who sat in that parliament
who was qualified to take a lead from his knowledge of affairs ; and,

* Vol. i. p. 324.

476 TRANSITION.— POLITICAL.

consequently, for the unjust, unconstitutional, and cruel legislation cf
that parliament he was, from the influence he exercised thereupDn,
largely responsible. He was also keenly sensitive when unfavourable
criticism was passed upon any of the measures to which he had so
greatly contributed.

After the defeat at the Boyne the Luttrells accompanied the army
of James in its flight to Limerick, and remained there during its first
and fruitless siege by William. On the departure of the lord-lieutenant
from Galway to France in September 1690 after the raising of the
siege, having delegated, before leaving, his civil authority to one Council
and his military authority to another, in neither of which Commissions
were the names of the Luttrells to be found, these trained intriguers
took no pains to conceal their dissatisfaction. Their mortification rose
into bitter indignation when it became known that one Thomas Max-
well, a Scotchman of the noble family of Herries, — a family which had
sacrificed and risked once and again life and fortune for loyalty and
Romanism, — and who was himself a gallant and true man, was included
in one of the Commissions from both of which they were shut out.
Maxwell's mortal offence, in their eyes, was that he had not conceeded
the dislike which he felt for the rapparee parliament which had repented
the Act of Settlement, and which had passed the Act of Attainder.
On this popular plea, and also the not less popular one that men who
were not Irish had been entrusted with a share in the administration,
the discontent soon broke out into actual rebellion. The legality of
the commissions was called in question. A great meeting was held.
A great many officers of the army, some peers, some lawyers, and some
Roman Catholic bishops, sent a deputation to the Duke of Berwick, the
commander-in-chief of the army, to inform him he had assumed a power
to which he had no right, but that nevertheless they would make no
change if he would only consent to govern by the advice of a council
which should be wholly Irish; and to these terms this young prince,
son of the king whom these men pretended to serve, very reluctantly
consented to submit and to become a puppet in incompetent hands.

Reflecting afterwards on the possible consequences of their violence,
the insurgents deemed it prudent to send a deputation to France for
the purpose of vindicating their proceedings. Of this deputation the
Roman Catholic bishop of Cork and the two Luttrells were members.
In the ship which conveyed them from Limerick to Brest they found
a fellow-passenger whose presence was by no means agreeable to them,
their enemy Maxwell, whom the Duke of Berwick had sent to watch
their motions and to traverse their designs. It is on record by various
writers of their party, that Henry coolly proposed to frustrate these
instructions by tossing Maxwell into the sea, and but for the bishop
and his brother Simon he would have accomplished the murder. Th^
pleadings and counter pleadings before James at Saint Germains by
Tyrconnel and Maxwell on the one part, and by the Luttrells on the
other, are fully detailed in the various memoirs of the party of this
period. The decision of James was characteristic as arrived at after
long hesitation and frequent vacillations. He gave all the quarrelled
fair words, and sent all the parties back to fight it out in Ireland, while
the Duke de Berwick was recalled to France.

HENRY LUTTRELL. 477

The result may be anticipated. Betwixt the new commander, General
Saint Ruth, and Tyrconnel, the lord-lieutenant, now returned to Ire-
land, there arose, through the intrigues of Henry Luttrell, a vehement
jealousy. At the siege of Athlone many officers who had signed an
instrument to that effect refused obedience to the lord-lieutenant while
in the field, and but for the quickness of the English capture would
have turned Tyrconnel out of the camp. The death of this function-
ary a few days afterwards at Limerick nearly led to a second mutiny
when it appeared that, in the commission under the great seal of James
then opened, among the names of the lords justices appointed in the
event of Tyrconnel's death, not only were the names of the Luttrells
again not to be found, but that the parties there named for the office,
although Irishmen, were of Saxon parentage. A few clays before this
took place Henry Luttrell himself had been put under arrest. Always
fond of dark and crooked policies, he had opened a secret negotiation
with the English for the surrender of the town, and one of his letters
had been intercepted.

On the capitulation, and on the day when, according to its terms,
those who resolved to accompany the faithful to France were required
to announce their determination, Henry Luttrell filed off as choosing to
remain in Ireland. For his desertion, and perhaps for other services,
he received a grant of the forfeited estate of his elder brother Simon,
who firmly adhered to the cause of James, and with it a pension of five
hundred pounds a-year from the crown ; but incurred the undying hate
of the Roman Catholic population. Twenty-four years afterwards
Henry Luttrell was murdered while going through Dublin in his sedan
chair. The commons house of Ireland declared there was cause to
suspect he fell a victim to the hatred of the Papists. Eighty years
after his death his grave, near Luttrell's town, was violated by a suc-
ceeding generation of avengers, and his skull was broken to pieces
with a pickaxe. Such is the vindictive spirit of an otherwise noble
nation. Such the false code of revenge for supposed desertion when
instigated by fanaticism. The assassination of Archbishop Sharp by
the Scotch Covenanters has its parallel in the murder of Henry Luttrell.
But the deadly hate of which the latter was the object descended to his
son and his grandson ;* that of which the former was the, perhaps ac-
cidental, victim died with himself.

* " There is," Junius wrote eighty years after the capitulation of Limerick, " a
certain family in this country on which nature seems to have entailed a heredi-
tary baseness of disposition. As far as their history has been known, the son has
regularly improved on the vices of his father, and has taken care to transmit
them pure and undiminished into the bosom of his successors." Elsewhere he
says of Luttrell the member for Middlesex, he of the famous Wilkes' contests, the
grandson of Henry, " He has degraded even the name of Luttrell. " He exclaims,
in allusion to the marriage of the Duke of Cumberland and Mrs. Horton, who was
born a Luttrell: "Let parliament look to it. A Luttrell shall never succeed to
the crown of England." "It is certain that very few Englishmen," says Lord
Macaulay in referring to these observations of the great satirist, " can have sym-
pathised with Junius' abhorrence of the Luttrells, or can even have understood
it. " " Why then," asks his lordship, " did he use expressions which to the great
majority of his readers must have been unintelligible? My answer," replies Lord
Macaulay, "is that Philip Francis was born and passed the first ten years of his
life within a walk of Luttrell's town."

ECCLESIASTICAL SERIES.

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.

At the accession of James L, the state of the church in Ireland was
one of ruin and dilapidation ; neither were its endowments sufficient to
give efficacy to an establishment, circumstanced otherwise as it then
was, in the midst of barbarism and civil disorder of every kind, and
from every cause: nor were its ministers sufficiently qualified to
diffuse the light so much wanting, in the surrounding moral and spirit-
ual obscurity of the country. The church of Rome, at the same time,
held a station and asserted an influence not much more advanced. But
a series of workings and events were from this date about to set in, which
was largely to alter and modify the condition of both. The chiefs were
ignorant of letters, and indifferent about religion : they only thought
of recovering, extending, or securing their dominions, and preserving
their iron jurisdiction over the people, on whom they lorded it with
absolute control. This power was only to be maintained by preserving
the friendly outwork of that perfect ignorance, which, in its various
degrees, is the fruitful mother of civil degradation. The church of
Rome was, through some of its faithful servants, striving for a still de-
nied and contested influence; but the progress which it had made had
been hitherto insufficient to enable it to direct its force, with effect,
against the rival church of England. It had yet enough to struggle
against, in the jealous opposition of the chiefs who had sagacity to
perceive, that it might enlighten and must emancipate from their grasp
those whom they so firmly controlled. So lax, accordingly, was the
actual resistance to the supremacy asserted by the English church,
that the laity of the Romish communion in Dublin were regular in
their attendance at the parish church; and this attendance, though
enforced by a law, which, under other circumstances, might be justly
called tyrannical and harsh, was not the object of complaint. Though
the law was severe, there had been no severity in the general spirit of
its administration: it had been generally the mind of Queen Elizabeth's
government to be strong in the assertion of power, but mild in its ap-
plication ; and the principle was preserved in the case of the Romish
church in Ireland.

The English church had its own disadvantages to cope with. In-
sufficient both in its endowments and organization, its parochial clergy
were not sufficiently provided in means or attainments, to bear up
against the pressure of irreligion and ignorance, by which they were
surrounded. It was not easy at that period to find persons of suffi-
cient spirit, information and ability, to execute so obscure and laborious
yet unpromising a task as that of an Irish country pastor, among a
community as lawless as the absence of law can make human beings,

HEBER MACMAHON. 479

and as untaught as the herds they tended or stole. For the reader
will recollect that the ancient civilization of Ireland had been swept
away by many centuries of internal war. In such a state of its means,
and of the obstacles with which it had to cope, it cannot be surprising
that an efficient ministry could not be provided, or that they were ob-
served by John Davie to be " such poor ragged ignorant creatures, (for
we saw many of them in the camp,) that we could not esteem any of
them worthy of the meanest of these livings, albeit many of them are
not worth 40 shillings per annum."

With such a state of ecclesiastical affairs, the beginning and cause
of worse, James's first archbishop and bishops had to struggle; the
following long, but not too long extract, contains the testimony of Arch-
bishop Jones — "■ I humbly pray my true excuse may be considered of,
which is, that I cannot get curates to supply the service of these
churches ; the rectories are impropriate, and the farmers cannot be
drawn to yield any competent means to a minister, for serving the
cure ; besides, if we could get means, we cannot possibly get ministers ;
for the natives of this kingdom being generally addicted to popery, do
train up their children to superstition and idolatry, so soon as they
come of age to send them beyond the seas, from whence they return
either priests, Jesuits, or seminaries, enemies to the religion established,
and pernicious members to the state. Such English ministers and
preachers as come hither out of England, we do but take them upon
credit, and many times they prove of a dissolute life, which doth much
hurt. I do humbly desire a small supply of ministers, and I will have
an especial care of their placing in the best manner I can. Some livings
are fallen void, since the beginning of this visitation, for which I know
not how to provide incumbents for the present."

HEBER MACMAHON.

DIED A. D. 1660.

Heber MacMahon was the Romish bishop of Clogher : we have
not found any authentic materials for even the most cursory sketch of
his history; but he was a man of talent, virtue, and wisdom. . Although
his character and even his name have sunk into the obscurity of his
stormy period, only known in the record of those deeds of prominent
evil or good which such periods bring forth; yet if truth, honesty, and
wisdom, are entitled to superior praise when found among the fanatic,
the false, and the deluded, few of his day are more deserving of a place
among the illustrious than MacMahon.

It was sometime in the year 1649, when the original party of the
Irish rebellion had been worn by its dissensions and disasters, but still
was sustained in a protracted existence by the general confusion of the
kingdom, and the absence of the powers of constitutional control. The
cross waves and currents of the civil wars in England had come into
collision with the Irish rebellion, and a confused war of parties and
party leaders was kept up, in which every party looked to its own ob-
jects. In this medley of force and fraud, all the varied objects of

every party were gradually beginning to be lost in tbe predominance
of that, most uncontrolled by any principle, most reckless in conduct,
and ruinous in design, headed by Owen O'Neale and other leaders of
the same class, who were endeavouring to hold out in the possession of
their lawless robber force, until the weakness of all the rest should
place the kingdom at their mercy.

Of these, it was the obvious policy to sell their arms to highest
bidders, to make individually the best bargains for present advantage,
to keep the strife alive, and, whatever way matters might fall out, to
be on terms with the uppermost. The consequence was, that while
a bloody and fearful retribution was preparing for this hapless and
infatuated nation, the two main parties were in a manner doomed to
look on in a nearly defenceless condition, and to endeavour to make
such terms, as their means afforded, with the lawless hordes whom the
appetite for plunder and the love of license attached to their leaders.

In this state of things, the nuncio of the papal see — the impetuous,
vain, obstinate, and weak Rinuncinini, laboured to maintain a sinking
cause. Incapable of perceiving the actual tendency of events, and dead
to the warnings of present circumstances, he resented the defec-
tion of many, and the caution of others of the papal ecclesiastics, who
saw more distinctly the crushed condition of the country, and the
failure of all their resources. The supreme council of Kilkenny had
been disarmed of its assumed authority, so soon as it manifested a dis-
position to peace, and lay under the excommunications and interdicts of
the nuncio. Among the more moderate and informed of every party,
there was a just sense of the necessity of a speedy termination to such
a state of things, and a conviction of the alternative which was daily
assuming a more certain and formidable aspect, in the increasing
strength and resources of the parliamentary power.

The Romish prelates in Ireland met at Clonmacnoise, to deliberate
on the course most expedient in such a juncture. They were, however,
variously inclined, and met with many differences both of view and pur-
pose. Sensible, for the most part, of the necessity of the peace, they
were not equally so, as to the manner and means to be pursued: with
some, the influence of the nuncio prevailed; some could not acquiesce
in the compromise essential to agreement; but with the body, the in-
trigues, misrepresentations, and flighty pretensions of the marquess of
Antrim prevailed.

In such an assembly it was that the ascendant ability of Heber
MacMahon turned the scale. To his clear and sagacious observation,
everything appeared in its real form, unclouded by the illusions of
party feeling and party artifice. He saw the iron hand of the armed
commonwealth freed from the restraints which it had shattered along
with the monarchy, and already uplifted to subdue and crush all other
pretensions to revolt: he saw the people who had been betrayed into a
wild and mad resistance, broken and prostrated — deserted, betrayed,
and scattered into irretrievable helplessness and suffering: he felt the
ruin and dilapidation which covered and rendered desolate the entire
aspect of the kingdom in every direction. Perhaps, too, looking back
on the history of his country, he saw in that ruinous scene of things
a repetition of that cycle of perpetual folly and wickedness, followed

by vengeance and the tyranny of distrust, which had dwarfed the pros-
perity of the kingdom ; nor are such suppositions merely conjectural,
as he was in habits of intimacy with the wisest statesman and truest
patriot of his age and country, James, first duke of Ormonde.

Of MacMahon's conduct on this occasion, Carte has given the fol-
. owing account. After detailing the crimes and intrigues of the
marquess of Antrim, he proceeds to say, " at this time the bishop of
Clogher baffled all his measures; and as by his conversation of late
with his excellency, we had formed the highest opinion, as well of his
talents for government,' as of his zeal for the good of his country, he
represented him in such a light to the assembly, that he either instilled
into them the same opinion, or silenced and deterred them from assert-
ing the contrary. The lord-lieutenant indeed treated this bishop
with very great respect, on account of the power which he had with
the Ulster Irish, and conversed with him on the affairs of the kingdom
very frequently, with great freedom and familiarity. He was a man
of better sense than most of his brethren, and saw the absolute neces-
sity of the whole nation uniting as one man for their defence ; for which
reason he laboured so hard with this congregation of the clergy, that
he got them at last to enter into a superficial union, for burying all
that was past in oblivion, to declare that no security for life, for-
tune, or religion, could be expected from Cromwell, to express their
detestation of all animosities between the old Irish, English, or Scots
royalists, and their resolution to punish all the clergy who should be
found to encourage them.''*

Of the bishops who joined in a declaration to this effect, the greater
part were rather influenced by the superior reason, than thorough converts
to the views of MacMahon; and on separating, many of them neglected
to enforce or follow up their declaration, while some proceeded directly
in the contrary spirit. Yet such an instrument was in itself well ad-
apted to produce serviceable impressions, and not the less highly indi-
cates the character of the source from which it virtually came. Such
in truth was the only value of the act: the time of repentance was
past, and no virtue or wisdom could save the people from the infliction
which was to come.

Not long after, according to agreement with the province of Ulster,
the marquess of Ormonde gave a commission to MacMahon,f to com-
mand in that province. The nature of this agreement was, that, in
case of the death of Owen O'Neale, the nobility and gentry of Ulster
should have the nomination of one to command in his stead. This
event having taken place, they chose MacMahon ; and their appointment
was confirmed by the marquess, on the ground of the " care, judgment,
valour, and experience in martial affairs, as also the leading and good
affections of you to do his majesty service, have nominated and ap-
pointed, and hereby do nominate and appoint you, the said Bishop
Ever MacMahon, to be general of all his majesty's said forces of horse
and foot of the province of Ulster, native of this kingdom," &c.

In virtue of this commission, the bishop proceeded to the discharge
of his new, but, perhaps, more appropriate functions, with vigour and

* Carte, i. 105. f Ormonde's Letter, dated May, 1660.

2h Ir.

skill, against the parliamentary troops, which he contrived to annoy in
every quarter of the province, by skirmishing1 parties of all dimensions.
After sometime, however, he was attacked by Coote: the conflict was
severe, and at first, for a while, victory appeared to incline to the
Irish : in the end, superior discipline obtained some advantage for the
parliamentary troops, when their cavalry decided the day. The bishop
rode with a small party of horse from the field — the next day he was
met by major King from Enniskillen, and attacked — he defended him-
self with heroic bravery, and it was not till after he was disabled by
numerous wounds that he was taken prisoner. He was soon aftei
hanged by the order of Sir Charles Coote.

JAMES MARGETSON, PRIMATE.

CONSECEATED A. n. 1660. DIED A. D. 1670.

Margetson was born in 1600, in Yorkshire, and graduated in
Cambridge, from whence he was promoted to the living of Watley in
Yorkshire. That his conduct in this parish was in every respect
worthy, is proved by the fact that he had the good fortune to attract
the notice and approbation of Wentworth, than whom none was more
likely to form a just estimate either of the man or the christian teacher.
Afterwards, in 1633, when Wentworth came over as lord-deputy, he
prevailed on Margetson to resign his Yorkshire preferment, and attend
him into Ireland as chaplain. In two years after, he p. asented him
with the rectory and vicarage of Annagh, in the diocese of Kilmore.
From this, in the next four years, his promotion was rapid, as he wa?
successively advanced to the deanery of Waterford, of Derry, and
finally, in 1639, of Christ Church in Dublin; and, at the same time,
pro vice-chancellor of the university, and prolocutor of the lower house
of convocation.*

In the rebellion of 1641, his charity and zeal were amply manifested
by his liberal benevolence to the sufferers. All that could be done
in that dreadful period, by those^ who were in any way exempted from
the general calamity, was the alleviation of the privations and afflic-
tions from which none escaped but those who were protected by arms
and fortified walls.

In 1647, he joined in the declaration made in answer to a message
from the parliamentary commissions, and substantially proposing the
substitution of the Directory for the Book of Common Prayer. From
the tyranny of this party, now completely masters of the city, he found
it necessary to make his escape ; and, like many others, he sought a
refuge in England, but found none. After much fatigue and repeated
alarms, he was taken prisoner; and having been first shut up in Man-
chester gaol, he was hurried, according to the turns of party, from
prison to prison. After some time, he was released, in exchange for
some military officers, and proceeded to London, where he had the best
chance of passing unnoticed in the crowd. In seeking safety, Marget-

* Balton's Bishops.

JAMES MARGETSON, PRIMATE. 483

son by no means counted on any compromise of his duty, should it in
any way present itself. The reputation of his integrity and charitable
deeds had gone before him ; and many, whose benevolence or regard
for the loyal cause was greater than their courage, were glad to find
one whom they could intrust with the means of relieving the distressed
and persecuted loyalists. He did not shrink from the great dangers,
and still greater fatigues and hardships, attendant on that ministry of
mercy and loyalty ; but made repeated and most hazardous journeys
through the kingdom, bearing needful relief to numerous parties, both
of the clergy and laity. Among those who were thus indebted to his
courageous charity was Chappel, bishop of Cork and Ross, who, like
himself, had been driven from Ireland. In such a tour, and at such a
time, when every part of the country lay involved in some impending
terror, it must be easy to apprehend that many strange and singular
adventures may have occurred, which might have supplied materials
for a diary more instructive and curious than could otherwise easily
be put together. The worthy Dean had indeed something else to think
of ; but among the incidents of his pilgrimage, one is mentioned which
bears upon a question which has been the subject of considerable con-
troversy. It is mentioned by his biographer that " he happened on a
gentleman sick and on his death-bed, to whom he administered spiritual
comfort, together with the holy offices of the church on such occasions.
By that dying person he was told, that he had been sometimes one
near on attendance on that late sacred martyr, King Charles the First,
in his solitude ; that to him had been by the King delivered, and com-
mitted to his charge and care to be preserved, those papers, which he
said he knew to have been written by the king's own hand, and which
were after published with the title of EIKHN BA2IAIKH." * The
Bishop has not named this person, so that it is not easy to conjecture
whether or not the anecdote can be considered as additional testimony
on this ancient and curious controversy, of which the reader may well
happen to be forgetful. After the Restoration, a person of the name
of Gauden, who had been in some way employed in conveying the sheets
to the press, claimed the authorship, and was believed by the King, the
Duke of York, and Clarendon. But it was not until forty years after
the event, when all parties who could have been considered as authority
were dead, that the question was in any way made public. It has been
frequently since revived ; and, considered simply with reference to the
external evidence on either side, offers vast, and we believe, insur-
mountable difficulty. But we have little doubt in saying that the
balance is clearly against Dr Gauden, as all his witnesses evidently
derive their authority from himself, or from those who, like him, had
some immediate personal interest in the preferment which he claimed
on the merit of the book. It is remarkable that Gauden cuts the
ground from under his own feet, as the act to which he lays claim
involves at the outset a most shameful and infamous fraud: his advo-
cate must set out by claiming for him a character unworthy of credit,
in order to prove a gross improbability on his testimony. Having had
no previous intimacy with the fastidious and haughty monarch, who

* Cited by Mr Dalton, Life of Margetson.

in confinement stood on terms approaching defiance with his foes, he
came to propose to him to risk his reputation, sacrifice his pride, and
violate all sense and principle of honour, by the gratuitous baseness
of taking false credit for a book, to the composition of which
he is allowed to have been himself fully competent. Then,
following the well-known course of literary impostures, he takes
the time favourable to his purpose; and when it has become unlikely
that he can be authoritatively contradicted, he reveals his pretended
service, with cautious stipulations of profound and inviolable secrecy,
of which the manifest purpose was to prevent the lying secret from
reaching the ears of a few venerable persons, who would quickly have
exposed the miserable scandal. And having done so, he pressed, with
a most ferocious disregard of all decency, for a bishopric, which he
obtained. The Earl of Clarendon, the King, and the Duke of York,
could have no direct knowledge of the truth. The royal brothers,
both alike indifferent to truth, were no friends to the real reputation
of their father, and not displeased to see transferred from his memory,
a book the substance of which was but reproach to their whole conduct
and characters. Clarendon had always professed to believe the book
to be the production of the King; and when he received the guilty
revelation of the scheming and mitre-hunting Gauden, it was under
the seal of the most inviolable secrecy — a secrecy which, we may ob-
serve, was in no way objectionable to any party then concerned. Against
a testimony little removed from infamous, we should consider that of
Levet, the king's affectionate and intelligent page, who never left him
during the time assigned to the composition of this work, to be far
more than equivalent. " I myself very often saw the king write that
which is printed in that book, and did daily read the manuscript of his
own hand, in many sheets of paper; and seldom that I read it but tears
came from me: and I do truly believe that there is not a page in that
book but what I have read, under the King's own hand, before it was
printed." To this is added, from the same authority, the evidence of
several persons — the printer, the corrector of the press, and the book-
seller, who speak to the handwriting, as ascertained from other docu-
ments. These, with the assertions of Bishops Inson and Earle, we
should consider as decisive in the scale of testimony. As for the host
of indirect testimonies, which we cannot here notice on either side, we
surmount the difficulties by considering them all as amounting to no
calculable value. We know too well the various resources of such
frauds, not to know the impossibility, after a little time of silence, of
tracing the various trains of contrived accident and seemingly
unthought-of confirmation which may be laid by one who is allowed
to wait his time, and work in darkness for an end unforethought of
but by himself. But if, instead of this digression, we were engaged in
the full discussion of this vexata questio, we must confess that the in-
ternal probability has impressed us, some years ago, in an actual per-
usal of the i\%'M [3asiXix7i, with a force that rejects all doubt. The
whole texture of the book is the most peculiarly characteristic emana-
tion, bearing the very living stamp of the author's mind — a mind utterly
beyond the reach of Gauden's coarse and low-toned spirit to conceive,
and breathing the whole sentiment and affections suited to the character

JAMES MARGETSON, PRIMATE. 485

and actual position of the royal sufferer, whose powers of composition
are otherwise known to have been such, as renders unaccountable and
absurd, the notion that he should have sullied the dignity of which he
was so tenacious, so far as to be the accomplice of a superfluous impos-
ture. We can here only add, wbat should not be omitted, that we
must believe there could have been no contest upon such a question,
but from the strong anxiety of a party, in everything to lower the
character of Charles I.

When the Restoration, after an interval of ten years, once more
revived the drooping and prostrate condition of the church in this
kingdom, Margetson was appointed to the metropolitan see of Dublin,
and was one of the eleven bishops consecrated by primate Bramhal,
on the 27th January 1660, as mentioned in the life of that prelate.
In 1662, he had occasion to enforce the principle of pulpit-jurisdiction,
which has been warmly canvassed in our own times, for which reason
we must here decline entering into the controversy, which would lead
us far into the discussion of principles more applicable to the church
of Ireland in its present state, than to the age of bishop Margetson. We
may but observe, that in our own times the reasons for enforcing that
degree of episcopal authority which is affirmed in the 28th and 29th
of our canons, has been rendered apparent enough by cases in which
infidelity has contrived to find its way into the pulpit; while the limi-
tation of that jurisdiction which we think equally deducible from those
canons, seems not to be altogether superfluous when the political char-
acter of the times must always expose us to the risk of bishops who
may feel more inclined to repress than to promote the spiritual ad-
vance of the church.

During the short interval of Max-getson's tenure of the see of Dub-
lin, his liberality was shown in ample contributions to the repair of
the two cathedrals. But on Bramhal's death in 1663, he was by the
advice of that able and sagacious prelate, translated to Armagh; and
shortly afterwards he was appointed vice-chancellor of the university.

It is unnecessary here to pursue a career only marked by the same
course of public events which we have already had to repeat. Mar-
getson died in 1678, with the praise of all good men; as one who had
discharged the important duties of his high office, with that rare
combination of strictness and charity, Avhich won for him from his
clergy that respect tempered by love, which belongs to the parental
relation. In him, severity when needful came so softened by affec-
tionate regret, that it was felt by the person on whom it fell, to come
from the office and not from the man, and to bear the sanctity of just
authority without any alloy of anger. He was not less mild and
paternal in the rule of the church, than firm and uncompromising in
her defence, and in the maintenance of her interests and lawful rights,
never failing either in the council or in the parliament to advocate
and maintain them under all the varied assaults of that age of trial
aud emergency.

He was interred in Christ church.

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND.

BORN A. D. 1580. — DIED A. D. 1656.

The family of Primate Usher is traced from a person who came over
to Ireland with King John. His name was Nevil, but (after the fashion
of the time), he received the name of Usher, from the office he held
under the king. This appellation was transmitted through a long line
of Irish descendants. Of these, in the 17th century, two rose to the
highest dignity in the Irish church. The first, Henry, may be noticed
for the honour of having been instrumental in the founding of Trinity
college. Arnold Usher, a brother of this prelate, and one of the six
clerks in the Irish chancery, married a daughter of Mr. James Stani-
hurst, a master in chancery, recorder of Dublin, and speaker in three
parliaments, father to the learned person noticed in a previous memoir,
and by this marriage was father to the most illustrious scholar, prelate,
and church historian of his age.

From these parents, James Usher was born in Dublin, in 1580. In
his early infancy he had the good fortune to be brought up by two
aunts, who being blind from their youth, were domesticated in his
father's house. Shut out by their infirmity from the excitements and
vanities of the world, they had also escaped its corruptions, and found
their refuge and consolation in the sequestered ways of religion :
and their blindness was enlightened by the purer inward light which
is derived from divine truth. From such teachers, the infancy of
Usher was from the earliest dawn of childish thought, nurtured in
holy knowledge and love: and habits as well as tastes were imparted,
which now may appear to have been the providential, as they surely
were the appropriate, training for a high and responsible calling in
times of great trial. The soil was good ground in every respect:
young Usher was as apt to learn as he was afterwards to teach : he
showed a quiet, submissive and studious disposition, a retentive mem-
ory and quick apprehension, with a peculiar aptitude to receive reli-
gious impressions. Nor can we have any doubt in tracing to these
peculiar and most interesting circumstances, much of the affecting and
impressive piety which, at a remote period of his afterlife, sustained
him in so many and such great trials and adversities.

Such a childhood and such a life, indeed, offer the truest illustra-
tions of the wisdom of the inspired precept, "Remember thy Creator
in the days of thy youth," &c; for, omitting the trite truths of the
power and permanence of youthful habits, and the obvious advantage
of pre-occupying the heart with the impressions which are best, and
least found in the ways of life, there is a natural return of the
affections to the conversation of early years, which increases, the
more man finds disappointment in the attractions of life. And it is a
happy coincidence when this bright spot in the retrospect is a hallowed
spot. It is one way of converting the natural affections into alliance
with that spirit, against which our earthly nature is too much at war ;
and it is a blessed thing, if in a world all the hopes and desires of which

1

y yr\ a. c h u_ n \~4

are strongly repugnant to every holy desire or good counsel, the mem
ory of those parents and friends and seasons, to which every heart of
human mould must from time to time turn most fondly, should come
laden with still higher and holier thoughts, and carry up the heart to
that seat on high, where the teachers of holiness have gone to their
reward.

Such was the happy lot of that illustrious prelate of whose earthly
pilgrimage we are now to trace the trying and difficult path. And if
his infancy was thus happy, his subsequent education was at least at-
tended with some curious and interesting circumstances. On his tenth
year, he was sent to a school kept by two very remarkable men.

Mr Fullarton and Mr Hamilton were two Scotchmen of considera-
ble talent and learning, sent over by the king of Scotland, to cultivate
an interest in favour of his claim to the crown. And as the jealousy
of Elizabeth on that point was so well known, it was both safe and
prudent to adopt some specious pursuit to cover their true design.
They set up a school : and considering the dearth of education in Ire-
land at the time, there was perhaps no course more favourable to that
purpose, than one which must have rendered them at once objects of
interest to all who were likely to be in any way serviceable, by influ-
ence or information. They quickly established the species of inter-
course and correspondence, which was considered desirable for their
employer's cause. When he came to the throne upon Elizabeth's death,
he knighted Fullarton, and raised Hamilton to the peerage by the title
of viscount Claudebois.

To the school thus opened, James Usher was sent. And there, for
the term of five years, he distinguished himself by his rapid proficiency
in latin and rhetoric, the chief school acquirements of the age. He of
course attracted the favourable attention of his masters, whose care of
his instruction he often afterwards mentioned with gratitude.

It is stated on his own authority, that Usher while at school, had
a great love of poetry; and, considering the imitative tendency of
youth, this would be a natural result of the first acquaintance with the
latin poets. We have already noticed the curious and grotesque imi-
tations of his cousin Richard Stanihurst. English poetry then offered
few models, and though these were no less than Chaucer, Spenser and
Shakspeare ; yet considering the state of literature in Ireland, and the
" great scarcity of good books and learned men" then complained of
there, with the usual course of school discipline, it is not likely that
Usher had formed any conceptions of style more tasteful than those of
his cousin. He says, that he laid poetry aside, as likely to interfere
with his more useful and solid pursuits, and to those who are acquaint-
ed with his writings, it will not appear to have been his calling.

The afterpursuits, in which he has acquired permanent renown,
were according to his own account of himself, determined by the
chance perusal of a book written by Sleidan. Of the state of learning
in that period of our history, it would be difficult to speak, as we
would wish, within the moderate compass afforded by the task we have
in hand ; but happily, the expansive literature of the age in which we
live, requires little digression into collateral topics. It was one of the
characteristics of the learned histories and treatises of an early age,

that they were replete with far-sought and multifarious erudition :
it was a maxim, that a book should contain everything in any way
connected with its subject; such was indeed the essential condition of
a contracted range of knowledge and a scarcity of books. To write
a book commensurate with the demands of that period, was the work
of a life spent in research and diligent study ; and perhaps required far
more than the average of intellectual power now employed in similar
undertakings. Such powers are for the most part of a nature to im-
pose a determinate direction on the faculties; the force of genius will
impel on, or create its way, because it cannot fail to have some decided
tendency. In the life of Usher, the marks of such a tendency are dis-
tinct enough; but there is a deep interest in the contemplation of the
spirit of the several times, in which the great master-builders of the
fabric of human knowledge have severally grown up to the fulfilment
of their tasks. We shall hereafter have occasion to enter on a more
complete and extended view of the academic discipline of Usher's
period: a few remarks may here sufficiently illustrate his entrance on
the laborious and useful pursuits of a long life, spent in researches of
the utmost importance to the ancient history of these isles.

For some time previous to that in which we are now engaged, a
considerable revolution in literature had been slowly in progress.
The recent cultivation of the literature of the ancients was begin-
ning to improve the taste, as also to give more just notions of the use
of human reason than seem to have been entertained in the mid-
dle ages, when words became invested with the dignity of things, and
the forms of logic were confounded with the ends of reason. In that
obscure transition of the human mind, the end of intellect had been
lost in a thousand nugatory refinements upon the means. But though
the world was then rapidly emerging from this chaos into daylight ; yet,
it was rather to be perceived in the beginnings of new things than in the
disappearance of the old. Of polite literature, it would be a digression
to speak; the fathers of English poetry stood apart from the obscurity
of their times, and the great dramatic writers of the Elizabethan age
had not as yet received any place in the shelves of general literature.
The impulse of modern letters was to be received independently of all
pre-existing progress, and to emanate more strictly from the stand-
ards of antiquity, than from the irregular though splendid models of
the previous periods. A single glance into the best writers of the
early part of the 1 7th century will not fail to illustrate the rudeness
of men's notions of style in prose or verse : the higher efforts of intel-
lectual power as yet rejected the undefined powers of the English
language, and the works of learned men were composed in the Latin.
From the pure and perfect models which had been embalmed to per-
petuity in a dead language, more permanent and systematic forms of
literature were to arise, in the very period at which we are arrived :
Virgil and Tully sat like the ruddy and golden clouds on the edge
of dawn, while the earth lay yet in a glimmering obscurity. In the
university of Dublin, by far the most honourable and illustrious inci-
dent in the history of the age, this state of things may be considered
as fairly represented: as it is now on the advance of human knowledge,
uo it then possessed the best knowledge proper to the date of its founda

tion; though this indeed was little more than the ancient languages of
Greece and Rome, with the logic and rhetoric of the schools. The
only knowledge besides these which could be said to offer any scope
to a student like Usher, were theology and history. But of these, it
is to be observed that neither of them had been yet exhumed from
the imperfect, scattered, abstruse and ponderous mass of voluminous
or impracticable reservoirs, in which they lay buried. They had not
been dug from the mine of antiquity, and reduced into academical
order : to effect this, and imbody materials for the student, was the
work of Usher, Stillingfleet, and a host of laborious and gifted con-
temporaries, and successors, from their time down to that of our
illustrious countrymen, Magee and Graves.

Again, the mathematical sciences, which, expanded as they now are
to the utmost powers and capacities of human reason; and embracing
in their grasp all realities below revelation, had little existence beyond
their forms and principles ; and these but cumbrously and inadequately
developed. They must have attracted, but could not satisfy an intel-
lect that tended to results; as manifesting the clearest and most
satisfactory exemplifications and exercises of reasoning, they could not
fail to become a temporary discipline or entertainment; but they ter-
minated in comparatively slight results and common uses — they did
not lead as now, to the temple of divine power and wisdom, and open
to the wonder and curiosity, the illimitable heights and depths of the
creation. The far-searching and subtle resources of transcendental sci-
ence were profoundly concealed ; the superb structure of reason, observa-
tion, and mechanical skill, which makes astronomy the triumph of
human intelligence, was but in its dilatory foundations ; the wondrous
results of electro-magnetism, and of physical optics, with a host of
brilliant and useful applications, of which the very names are additions
to language, and which make the realities of modern science more
wonderful than the fictions of old magic — had no existence then.
They are the results of the intellectual labour and genius of after-
times, and the light and glory of our modern universities.

From this summary sketch, it is easy to pass to the consideration of
the natural direction which the genius of Usher would be likely to
receive from the state of knowledge in his time. Naturally addicted
to the pursuit of truth, and rather constituted for research than inven-
tion, he followed that broad track on which the best and most prac-
tical intellect of his day was sure to be impelled. It is stated, in the
dedication of his work on the British Churches, that he was first deter-
mined to the study of history by his admiration of a passage in Cicero,
" Nescire quid antea quam natus sis acciderit est semper esse puer, "
and having Sleidan, as already mentioned, at the same time put into
his hands, he determined to devote his study to antiquities. We can
ourselves well recollect the impression made on an intelligent youthful
assembly of students in Dublin University, by a judicious citation of
Cicero's remark.*

* The Historical Society, a spontaneous shoot of the university, more clearly
marking, than anything we can here say, the real working of that great and solid
institution. It was the exuherant overflow of its instructed intelligence, and 6ucb

490 TRANSITION— ECCLESIASTICAL.-

The first stone of the university of Dublin was laid in 1591 : in two
years after it was ready for the reception of students. On the admis-
sion of students, in 1593, James Usher was one of three who matri-
culated, and his name stands first on that roll which may be re-
garded as the chronology of Ireland's progress in learning. Loftus,
in a memoir of whom we have already given some account of the
foundation, was appointed first provost. Hamilton, one of Usher's
masters, was also appointed a fellow, to the great advantage of his
pupil. When he entered college, Usher had reached his thirteenth
year: he took his degree of Bachelor in 1596. The interval was
creditably marked by its fruits. Before he had more than completed
his sixteenth year, he had already drawn up the plan and chief mate-
rials of his " Annals of the Old and New Testament." Thus, from the
very foundation of the university, may be said to have emanated a great
work, which laid the solid foundation of chronology. The Bible he
was wont to call the Book of books ; and considered it as containing
the true rule of life, — a sentiment which, though unquestionably in-
volved in the profession of a Christian faith, as being virtually incul-
cated in the Bible itself, yet either then or now, practically recognised
by few. Few, indeed, there are, who, like James Usher, take upon
them the example of the Son of God in the wilderness, who met every
wile of Satan with an answer from the word of Scripture.

But Usher lived in a day when the follower of Christ was to be as-
sailed, not only by those trials which address themselves to the ordi-
nary frailties of the human heart. His church was in a state of con-
troversy, and invested by no slight array of the hosts of spiritual dark-
ness. It was especially necessary that a scholar, whose knowledge
and zeal were so eminent, should be ready to give an answer for his
faith. This truth was the more feelingly pressed on the mind of
Usher by the state of religious profession in his own family. His
maternal relations were members of the Church of Rome, and his
uncle, Richard Stanihurst, was a man of distinguished talent. As
there are proofs extant of the anxiety of the family, and especially of
Stanihurst, to prevail on their young relative to conform to their creed,
it may with certainty be inferred, that numerous efforts for the pur-
pose must have been made, and that conversations of a controversial
nature must frequently have taken place. Such a position — and in
Ireland most protestants have more or less experienced it in their
circle of friends, if not among their kindred and connexions — would
naturally impart to the zealous temper some direction towards such

as, if justly considered, to exhibit to the reflecting spirit the true essential tenden-
cies of the course of instruction adopted by the university. On this ill-understood
question we should be happy to make some remarks ; but on consideration we ab-
stain. There is too much to be replied to, and too much to be explained. One
remark we must make : they who have fully availed themselves of the prescribed
course of academical discipline, are never found wanting in whatever knowledge
their position requires. The occasion to which we have above referred, was one of
the annual addresses from the chair. It was delivered by Mr Sidney Taylor,
since an eminent member of the English press and bar; but whose advance in bia
profession is far below the just expectation which his high endowments had raised
among those who knew him best

investigations as might best supply the means of defence. Jn the case
of Usher, this motive was quickened by incidents : his uncle was not
only in the habit of holding disputations with him, but there is evi-
dence that he even studied and made extensive notes for these : among
his writings occurs the title, " Brevis premonitio pro futura concerta-
tione cum Jacobo Ussero." But these facts are the worthier of our
notice here, because it was from this very controversy with his uncle,
that his mind and studies received their immediate colour. He was
yet engaged in his under-graduate course, when his uncle, still anxious
to serve him according to his own views, gave him to read, " Staple-
ton's Fortress of the Faith," the object of which is stated to have been
the proof of the catholic antiquity of the Church of Rome — a fortunate
incident, as in this controversy, it is the only question which is likely
to lead to a decided issue. Points of doctrine will, until mankind
changes, ever afford latitude for clouds of evasive rhetoric, the subtle
fallacies of language, easy misunderstandings of isolated texts of
scripture, and the wilful sophistry that appeals to ignorance. The
antiquity of the church of Rome, considered with reference to its doc-
trines, pretensions, and constitution, &c, is a point of historical
fact; excluding ignorance, prejudice, and metaphysics, and referring
the question to the ever competent tribunal of testimony; and in
the instance before us such was the result. Usher, on the perusal of
this work, quickly resolved to refer to the only direct testimony on the
point, and diligently engaged in the study of the Fathers — a study
which we earnestly wish that the more zealous students of every
Christian profession would cultivate ; and the more, because these volu-
minous and recondite writings are liable to a perversion from the dis-
honest controversialist, from which they would be thus in a manner
protected. Relying on the common ignorance, such persons have oc-
casionally thought that it did no dishonour to their profession to sup-
port it by the most fraudulent and disingenuous quotations, in which
these ancient writers have been made to support the very contradic-
tory to their actual opinions.

Long before he had thus arrayed himself from the armory of antiquity ,
but strong in the surer panoply described by St Paul, and well-versed
in the resources of academic disputation, James Usher, though yet
but in his 19th year, was ready to meet the most formidable adver-
sary. At this time, the learned Jesuit, Henry Fitz-Symonds, was,
according to the barbarous policy of the day, confined in the castle of
Dublin: he complained that, "being a prisoner, he was like a bear
tied to a stake, and wanted some to bait him:" the words being re-
peated, were generally understood to convey a challenge. Usher had
<vt the time attained a high collegiate reputation ; his learning and con-
tro.rersial skill, his faculty of language, and the peculiar direction of
his stwjies were known, and every eye was turned upon him, as a fit-
ting cha^pi0I1 for the church. The parties met; Usher waited on
the Jesuit, i^ they agreed upon the selection of three topics from the
controversies u: Bellarmine, and the first topic chosen was concerning
the antichrist. C, the result there are several statements ; we shall,
therefore, only place]->efore the reader the most authentic means from
which a probable opims may be witll much confidence arrived at—

492 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

Usher's letter to the Jesuit. It is as follows: — "I was not purposed
(Mr Fitz-Symonds) to write unto you before you had first written to
me, concerning some chief points of your religion, (as at our last
meeting promised,) but seeing you have deferred the same, (for reasons
best known to yourself,) I thought it not amiss to inquire further ot
your mind, concerning the continuance of the conference begun betwixt
us. And to this I am the rather moved, because I am credibly in-
formed of certain reports which I could hardly be persuaded should
proceed from him, who in my presence pretended so great a love and
affection unto me. If I am a boy, (as it hath pleased you very con-
temptuously to name me,) I give thanks to the Lord that my carriage
towards you hath been such as could minister unto you no occasion to
despise my youth. Your spear belike is in your own conceit a weaver's
beam, and your abilities such that you desire to encounter with the
stoutest champion in the Hosts of Israel, and therefore (like the Phil-
istine) you contemn me as being- a boy ; yet this I would fain have you
know, that I neither came then, nor now do come unto you, in any
confidence of learning that is in me, (in which, nevertheless, I thank
God I am what I am,) but I come in the name of the Lord of Hosts,
(whose companies you have reproached,) being certainly persuaded
that, even out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, he is able to show
forth his own praise ; for the further manifestation whereof, I do again
earnestly request you, that (setting aside all vain comparisons of per-
sons), we may go plainly forward, in examining the matters in contro-
versy between us; otherwise, I hope you will not be displeased if, as
for your part you have begun, so I also for my own part may be bold,
for the clearing of myself, and the truth which I profess, freely to
make known whatever hath already passed concerning this matter.
Thus entreating you, in a few lines, to make known unto me your pur-
pose in this behalf, and, praying the Lord, that both this, and all
other enterprises we take in hand, may be so ordered, as may most
make for the advancement of his own glory, and the kingdom of his
Son, Jesus Christ.

" Tuus ad aras usque,

James Usher."

The inference from this letter is decisive and peremptory. Considering
the respective characters of the parties, there can be no doubt of the fact
that Fitz-Symonds, of whose mission truth formed no part, dealt disin-
genuously, to ward aside the imputation of having slunk from the con-
test. In the preface to his " Britonomachia," he endeavours to trans-
fer this disgrace to his youthful adversary; but his insinuations are
inconsistent with the authentic statement contained in the docume*'
above cited. The statement of the missionary is yet valuable for tne
graphic glimpse it affords us of the person and manner of T^her at
the period: — "There came to me once a youth, of abo1"" # eighteen
years of age, of a ripe wit, when scarce as you wou^j \rr*n k gone
through his course of philosophy, or got out of H childhood, yet
ready to dispute on the most abstruse points of d; .mitv ' "ut when he
tells his reader, with reference to the same incident, « he did not
again deem me worthy of his presence," w must at once discern the

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 493

a.nxious purpose of misrepresentation. He afterwards saw and ac-
knowledged the weight of Usher's character as a scholar, in a com-
pliment of no slight value from a Jesuit of his day, having in one of
his works called him " Acatholicorum doctissimus"

In 1599j a public act was held in college, for the entertainment of
the earl of Essex, who came over in April that year as lord-lieutenant.
Such exhibitions, in the palmy days of scholastic art, when the jejune
pedantry of the categories stood yet high among the accomplishments
of the scholar, were objects of fashionable interest; the tilt of wordy
weapons between two distinguished doctors was a display as attractive
to the cumbrous gaiety of that pedantic age, as the rival strains of
Pasta and Grisi are now to ears polite. As the pomps of feudal
chivalry, these formidable solemnities of the schools have left their
forms behind, like antique carving on the structure of our time-built
institutions: but then, these acts were far from idle form. No com-
mencing- undergraduate then stood conscious of absurdity, under the
smile of the proctor, vainly trying to decypher his paper of syllogisms,
the wholesale ware of some garret in Botany Bay, and retailed by the
jobber of caps and gowns. Then the youthful disputant stood up pon-
derously mailed in the whole armour of Ramus and Scotus. Here
Usher was at home, a champion at all weapons ever forged from the
mine of Aristotle to perplex the reason of the world for half-a-dozen
centuries: and in the character of Respondent, won approbation from
the polished and graceful courtier of Elizabeth.

Such distinctions must have awakened high hopes of future eminence
among his friends. His father, himself an eminent legal functionary,
naturally saw in the distinguished university reputation of his son, the
promise of forensic fame, and high judicial preferment. But young
Usher's tastes led to a different end. The love of real knowledge,
once thoroughly attained, is sure to repel the dry and barren labour
of a purely artificial system, which, notwithstanding its vast practi-
cal utility, is but remotely connected with knowledge, and leads to no
permanent truth. The maxims of law, resulting from expediency, contem-
plate but narrowly and obscurely those primary principles in human
nature, from which the expediency is itself the consequence; and in our
first acquaintance with the rules of practice, the reason is frequently
shocked by numerous instances, which indicate the feebleness and dark-
ness of the connexion. Even the rules of evidence, by their purpose
necessarily connected with the truth of things, are cramped in legal
practice, so as to exhibit an imperfect, and sometimes erroneous view
of the laws of probability. To an intellect fitted by its breadth and
depth to explore more spacious realms of research, the subtlety, com-
pactness, and precision of such a science, could not be a compensation
for such wants: Usher must, from the nature of his acquirements, be
supposed to have looked with infinite distaste on a field of exertion, in
which the powers which could investigate the depths of time and
event, might be exhausted on the validity of a doubtful title or a paltry
question of personal right. He did not, however, question the wishes
of his father, who fortunately died before any decision could severely
test his filial obedience.

The death of his father left him free, and possessed of a respectable

494 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

fortune, with which most men would have been not unreasonably con-
tent to relinquish the hopes with the toils of professional life; and few
indeed would have taken the high unselfish course of Usher. Having
set apart a moderate portion for his own wants, and to supply him witb
the books necessary for the course of study to which he felt himself
pledged, the remainder he disposed of for the maintenance of his sisters
and brother.

In 1600, he took the degree of Master of Arts, and was elected
proctor and catechetical lecturer of the university. The distinguished
manner in which he discharged the duty of an office for which he was in
every way so peculiarly fitted, added to his reputation, and confirmed the
election of his course and calling. Another step to his advancement
offered at the same time. The reader is already aware of the ill-pro-
vided condition of the church in Ireland at that dark period. A want
of preachers made it necessary to select three young men from among
the students of Trinity College, to preach in the cathedral of Christ
Church, before the lord-lieutenant. Richardson, Walsh, and Usher
were chosen. To Usher was allotted the afternoon sermon, the subject
of which rendered it then an object of the most attractive interest, as
it was controversial, and intended to satisfy the members of the Romish
communion on the errors of their church; and in this he was so suc-
cessful that many were brought over to the church. In his catecheti-
cal lectures he also made it his business to explain the main articles
of the protestant churches, as distinguished from those of the church
of Rome. In the previous year, the people of this communion had,
under a fine of twelve pence, been compelled to attend divine service
in the churches, by virtue of a clause in the act of uniformity.
The enactment was at this time enforced, in consequence of the
alarms caused by Tyrone's rebellion, and the rumour, not quite
unfounded, of a massacre which was designed to follow the vic-
tory, if gained by Don Juan. The defeat of this unfortunate leader
in 1601, tended greatly both to quiet the apprehensions of the pro-
testants, and to impart a more willing and cheerful feeling of acqui-
escence among the papists. To render the measure effective, the
Dublin clergy were directed to arrange their Sunday duties so as to
have a sermon adapted to the purpose of their instruction, at each
church, on the afternoon of every Sunday.

Usher was among the most active in this service ; having, in the
interval, been admitted into holy orders by his uncle the primate.
This was, in some measure, in opposition to his own inclination, as he
was unwilling to enter prematurely on the sacred calling, before he
had attained the lawful age; but the necessity of the time, and his
ripeness of attainment, made it plainly desirable ; and he yielded to the
urgency of his friends. A special dispensation was therefore obtained
for the purpose. He seems, however, to have confined his ministra-
tion to the pulpit, justly sensible that the part which had been allotted
to him in the Christian church was wider and more permanent than
the essentially confined range of duties which are allotted to the parish
clergyman. Not, indeed, we feel it necessary to add, that these latter
have less vital and essential importance: the defence of the faith—
the integrity of Christian doctrine — the constituted authority and dis-

cipline of the church — are but the outward system of that great inte-
rest of souls, of which the faithful cure is the vital and essential use
and practical end. But there is yet a great distinction: though the
ablest development of genius and scholarship that ever yet appeared
in the form of a book, cannot, in intrinsic worth, be weighed against
the salvation of a soul, yet it is a false estimate, and founded on a
vulgar fallacy, that would weigh these results in the scale of opposi-
tion. It is enough that the book is wanting, and fills a necessary
place in the whole system of the ecclesiastical edifice. The humblest
and commonest talents are, by the blessing of God, when rightly di-
rected by proper preparation, and the co-operation of grace, fully com-
petent to perform all that human effort can do in the cure of souls.
The encounter with the infidel, the heretic, and the schismatic, de-
mand rare and singular powers and attainments, only the result of long
and secluded study and intellectual training. Such faculties, and such
capabilities, when they occur, are not to be inappropriately expended
on the work that wants not labourers ; but to be sedulously devoted to
the purpose for which, it is to be presumed, from the known economy
of God, they are designed. God is to be served with the best powers of
the mind, applied in their most effective mode of exertion. Nor,
unless on the presumed opinion that men like Usher are the mere re-
sult of chance, can it be presumed that they act in conformity with
any view of the divine will, when they resign their peculiar gifts, and
take those parts in which they are, indeed, often inferior to ordinary
men.

We have already noticed, with the requisite fulness, the political
condition of the times, and it is a topic to which we would not wil-
lingly return. To an intellect like that of Usher, it must have con-
veyed clearer indications of its tendencies, than to understandings of
ordinary gauge. Men most conversant with affairs seldom have suffi-
ciently the power of just generalization, to look beyond immediate
consequences; they are sunk in the complication of detail; and small
things, from their nearness, obstruct the mental vision. But the histori-
cal intellect soon learns to look on large processes moving in the distance
of time, and like the far-sighted vision of astronomy, as compared with
common observation, to separate the true motions from the apparent.
It is to an impression originating in such habits of mind, that we are
inclined to attribute the curious facts connected with Usher's sermon
in 1601, in which he applied a prophecy of Ezekiel's to the politics of
Ireland. His text was Ezekiel iv. 6: — " Thou shalt bear the iniquity
of the house of Judah forty days. I have appointed thee each day for a
year" which he applied to his own country in that remarkable expres-
sion, " From this year I reckon forty years, and then those whom you
now embrace shall be your ruin, and you shall bear their iniquity."
Usher claimed no inspiration, yet the coincidence would appear, from its
exact fulfilment, to be something more than accidental. None can pre-
sume to say whether there was, or was not, some unconscious interposition
of Divine power. The fact remains uncontradicted, and no human judg-
ment can alter it. We can at the same time have no doubt of the true
source of the impression from which Usher was naturally led to apply the
prophecy ; an application which we must confess raises our wonder not

the less, from its farsightedness, for it strongly shows the force
with which Usher's intellect was impressed by the actual indica-
tions from which, while they were beyond ordinary sight, he deriv-
ed the impression. Nor, making this allowance, does the actual error
in the least abate our respect for his critical character ; for if the reader
will consider the phenomena in that case present to Usher's observa-
tion— a church largely intertangled with, and affecting the visible
church of Christ, and a nation peculiarly the scene of a great conflict,
arising from that connexion, and then looking on the prophecies, as
tracing by anticipation the whole history of the Christian church — it
is no wonder that so vast a working as he saw, and so dreadful a crisis
as he anticipated, should seem to be foreshadowed in a prophecy so
aptly coincident. The force of Usher's impression, and perhaps, also,
the clearness of his observation, is enforced by further testimony from
Bernard's life : — " What a continued expectation he had of a judgment
upon his native country I can witness, that from the year 1629, when
I had the happiness first to be known to him, and the nearer the time
every year, the more confident, to my often wonder and admiration,
there being nothing visibly tending to the fear of it." Even in the
widest grasp of human powers, we can find illustrations of the narrow-
ness of our discernment. To see more fully the common want of
political foresight in the actual conduct of political affairs, " with
how little wisdom the world is governed," a better example cannot
indeed be found than in the whole policy of that age. The government
was assuredly equally injudicious in its mercies and severities to the
church of Rome in Ireland.

It was in the year 1603, that the English army in Ireland, desirous
to establish some appropriate memorial of their success over the
domestic and foreign foes of Ireland in the battle of Kinsale, sub-
scribed with that intent £1800, and appropriated it to the library of
Trinity College, Dublin. For the outlay of this munificent subscrip-
tion to the true interests of the country, Usher, with two fellows of
the university, were commissioned to visit London; and thus was
opened, in fact, a new era in his life. London then, as since, the real
centre of human attainment, must have opened a wide field of interest,
of which inadequate conceptions can now be formed, when literature
is universally diffused, and the ends of the civilized world are
virtually nearer than the limits of the British isles were then. Then
books were few, knowledge rare, and genius moved " separate as a
star," through the surrounding intellectual vacuity and darkness.
While Usher and his colleagues were in London, it chanced that Sir
Thomas Bodley* was there in the same pursuit: and it is stated, that
he contributed to their object by valuable advice, such as his local
information and habitual acquaintance with that avocation might be
supposed to afford. " It is a pleasing reflection," observes bishop

* Sir Thomas Bodley was a native of Exeter : he received his education at
Geneva, and in Oxford. He was much employed hy queen Elizabeth, on embas-
sies chiefly. He is worthy of memory for having re-built the library of Oxford Uni-
versity, and bequeathed his fortune to maintain it: he died in 1612, in the 68th
year of his age.

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 497

Mant,* u to the members of the two universities in aftertimes, as it
was to the delegates of each at the time, that the Bodleian library of
Oxford, and the library of the university of Dublin, designed as they
were, each in its respective place, to be the instruments of dissemi-
nating- sound religion and useful learning over the church and empire,
began together with an interchange of mutual kind offices."

On his return, Usher was promoted to the chancellorship of St
Patrick's by his early friend Loftus, then archbishop of Dublin. He
thus acquired the means of enlarging his own collection of books,
with the valuable experience derived from his recent employment.
The cure of Finglas was attached to his office in the cathedral, and he
applied himself to the diligent discharge of its duty, by preaching in
the parish church every Sunday. His natural and characteristic
liberality was in this also shown, in a provision for the future dis-
charge of the same duties, by endowing the vicarage of Finglas.

In 1607, Camden came to Dublin to collect materials for the de-
scription of Dublin, afterwards published in the last edition of his
Britannia: in the conclusion of this description, his obligations to
Usher are acknowledged, where he attributes his information chiefly
to "the diligence and labour of James Usher, chancellor of St Patrick's,
who in various learning- and judgment, far exceeds his years."

In the same year, having taken his degree of bachelor of divinity,
he was then at the age of twenty-six appointed professor of divinity
to the university, an office which he filled with credit and extensive
usefulness for the next thirteen years. His lectures were directed by
the consideration of the spiritual and doctrinal necessities of the age,
and with still more especial relation to Ireland. The work of a
lecturer in divinity was then, in some respects, such as to task most
severely the memory and theological scholarship as well as the contro-
versial abilities of the lecturer. There were then none of those well-
digested compendiums containing the history and exposition of every
question and controversy from the beginning, which now adorn the
country curate's shelf, and make knowledge easy: the materials of
instruction were to be gathered from the vast chaos of antiquity,
which may be aptly dignified with the character of rudis indigestaque
moles. The age was then but recently beginning to emerge from
the unprofitable logomachy of school divinity — the vojc et prceterea
nihil of the brethren of St Dominic and St Francis — of Scotists and
Thomists, and all the motley and metaphysical fraternities within the
comprehensive unity of the see of Rome. The theology of the middle
ages had rejected alike the authority of Scripture, and of the scrip-
tural expositors of the early churches: — the facts which might have
been unmanageable, the authorities, which could hardly be subtilized
away by the eloquence of Aquinas, or darkened by the logical distinctions
of our countryman Scotus, had been by common consent laid aside, and
consequently forgotten. It was the pride and policy of the schools to
maintain their theological tenets on the basis of first principles, and by
the powers of reason, with a subtilty competent to maintain any oon-

* Hist, of the Church of Ireland.

11. 2 1 Ir.

tradiction. But the Reformation had brought back the war of tongues
from the verge of the seventeenth century, to the documents and author-
ity of the early church. A broad glow of morning light was opening
fast upon the swamps and labyrinths of the human intellect : and other
weapons were become necessary to meet and encounter the palpable
and formidable realities which were obtruding themselves upon
Europe ; these were no longer to be obscured by the mere phantasma-
goria of human ignorance, or turned aside by the jarring perversions
of Greek philosophy. Yet how far the reformers were to be directly
encountered at their own weapons, was yet questionable in the judg-
ment of a policy which has seldom been far diverted from prudence
by any dogmatical predilection. In this nice emergency the order of
Jesuits arose, with a new organization, to meet the dangers of the
time. This illustrious order, though early and without intermission
exposed to the hatred of the Benedictines and Dominicans, soon added
as largely to the power and extent of the papal domains, as their
rivals by their ignorance and other demerits had lost; and though
fiercely attacked by the resentment of these rivals, were soon found
so effective in their resistance, so subtle and dexterous in their use of
means, that it was observed, that even when defeated in the contro-
versy, they contrived to keep possession of the field. Of this order, car-
dinal Bellarmine, yet living while Usher held his professorship, was then
the most conspicuous for ability and learning. There however seems to
have belonged to this great man a vein of hardy moral frankness,
more consistent with his strong and clear understanding, than with
the interests of that great power of which he was the most illustrious
champion. It had been among the ruling principles of that great
power, not to allow too close an inspection into its fundamental authori-
ties and credentials : and when forced from the hold of politic reserve,
it was possessed of unnumbered outlets for evasion in the conse-
crated obscurity of its retreats: and what the manoeuvring of a well-
matured system of controversial strategy could not effect, other re-
sources of a more tangible kind were ready to secure. In a contro-
versy, thus conducted as it had till then been, rather by policy or force
than by the weapons of reason, and more by evasion than by direct
defence, the difficulty was to bring the adversary upon fair ground.
The confidence of Bellarmine, founded as it was, on the conscious-
ness of strong reason, and great native fairness of temper, afforded
an advantage not to be recalled. He published an extensive and
voluminous treatise on the several controversies which had then
arisen between the church of Rome and its adversaries the Protestant
churches. In these volumes, this illustrious Frenchman threw aside
the flimsy but safe resources which had so long been the bulwarks and
battlements of human error, and ventured to collect and state the
arguments of the protestant divines fairly, and without any important
abatement of their force. These he answered with eloquence and
skill; such as, indeed, to render his work no unfair representation of
the facts and intrinsic value of the cause of which he was the ablest
and most respectable supporter. This achievement was, however, far
more effective in drawing upon him the force of the adversary, than win-
ning the approbation of his friends. The pontiffs shrunk aghast from a

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 499

work in which with more practical wisdom than the great Jesuit, they
6aw the real effects to be so far from the intention: and he was then
and after censured by more politic doctors of his church.

It was by means of this inadvertent honesty of the great leading
controversialist of his own day, and Romish authority since, that
Usher was enabled to perform the master-stroke of bringing an adver-
sary into court. The infelicitous boldness of the cardinal offered many
of the most important questions, fixed beyond the subtle tergiversa-
tions and evasive shifts of polemical dexterity. To what extent
Usher actually availed himself of this advantage, so judiciously seized,
we cannot discover. It is certain that he went very far in labouring
on a favourite topic, of which it will now be generally admitted, that it
occupied the time of more profitable questions. The fallacy of the
effort to identify Antichrist with the Pope has exercised the ingenuity
and learning of later divines, but may now be considered at rest : we
should be sorry to disturb its repose; but having long ago read much
controversy upon the subject, we must venture so far in behalf of our
professor, as to say, that the mistake was one not well to be avoided, as
its detection has in fact been the result of further discoveries of subse-
quent commentators, by which the characteristics assigned to one pro-
phetic person have been since divided between two. Though the fulfil-
ment of the prophecies has been clearly shown to be accurate to a
degree which has proved prophecy to be a rigidly faithful anticipation
of history,* yet in no instance has anything to be called precision or
even near resemblance been attained in the interpretations of unful-
filled prophecy. Of the failure of human interpretations the Jewish
history offers one sad and notorious example, though the prophecies of
Daniel were least liable to misapprehension.

It was during the period of his professorship, that he is mentioned
to have written a " digest of the canons of the universal church," a
work which has never been published, though still extant in MS. As
we can conceive the scope and execution of such a work, there could
be none more laborious in the performance, or more universally salu-
tary in its uses.

In l609j Usher again visited England in the quest of books: his
general reception, the gratifying intercourse with persons of learning
and genius, the various opportunities of extending his acquaintance
with authors and men; and last, in all probability, the obvious circum-
stance, that there lay the great high road to fame and preferment,
which though secondary objects to men like Usher, cannot be over-
looked altogether without some obliquity in the understanding: all
these so far interested and attracted him, that his visits to England
were afterwards periodically repeated. On these occasions he seems
to have evidently made the most of his time ; a month at each of the
universities, and a month in London, was but enough to satisfy the
moral and intellectual craving which had accumulated in the mental
seclusion of three years, and to maintain the kindliness and respect

* The reader is referred to Mr Keith's two works on the Prophecies, in which
this point is proved with a clearness, precision, and fulness, which leaves nothing
wanting of certainty.

500 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

due to such a distinguished visitor. Oa these occasions, it may be
superfluous to add, that in each place every collection of books was
freely opened to his curiosity; and wherever there was learning or
talent, he was eagerly sought and enthusiastically received. Just before
the visit here particularly referred to, he had composed a dissertation
inquiring into the origin and foundation of certain estates, supposed
to be derived from the church in early times. These were the termon
or Tearmuin, privileged lands, which though held by laymen, were
exempted from taxation, and subject only to certain dues to bishops
or ecclesiastical corporations, from or under whom they were origi-
nally supposed to be held. Concerning the precise origin of this
tenure, there is yet much ground for dispute. Nor after perusing
many statements, should we venture to decide whether the lands in ques-
tion were possessed in virtue of an original right reserved in the patrons,
or an usurpation founded on the abuse of an ecclesiastical office origin-
ally administrative simply, or on the encroachments of power under the
pretext of protection. The question at that time became important, by
reason of the poverty of the sees and endowments of the Irish church,
and the anxiety of the king to secure the foundations of the settlement
of Ulster — the only real prospect of Irish improvement — by giving
extended influence and efficacy to the church. Usher took that view
of a difficult subject, which was most favourable to these important
views : and to those who weigh the command of authorities, with which
he treated the subject, and consider the high integrity and sound judg-
ment of Usher, it will appear that he was as sincere in his inference,
as his object was in itself important and beneficent: to him the exten-
sion of the church appeared, as it was, an inestimable interest: on this
point his zeal is known. But we think that every essential step of his
inquiry is encumbered with doubtful questions: and we are by no
means inclined to coincide in the sweeping application, by which the
ancient estates of ecclesiastical foundations were to be resumed, in
favour of king James's churches and sees. Whatever be the true
history of the Tearmuin, the disputants, ancient and recent, over-
look a great principle, which is the foundation of all rights, — pre-
scription: which after a certain lapse of time fixes the right without
regard to the manner of its acquisition. This principle, however, may
operate in contrary directions, at periods remote from each other : and
considering this, the writers who would resist Usher's conclusion, with
a view to present right, have perhaps overlooked the principle which
makes the discussion nugatory. The property was to be resumed, on
the ground that it was still de jure ecclesiastical: and the argument
could only be met by maintaining some species of usurpation. On this
latter supposition, there would be undoubtedly, in the days of James I.,
a prescription in favour of the persons who were immemorially in
possession : but the resumption would in a few generations, by a
parity of reasoning, take the place of the original wrong; and the
actual right in being, become as fixed as that before it. And hence it
is, that we see no reason for now going at large into an argument in
which the antiquary alone can have any concern. Nevertheless, as
the reader may be curious to learn some particulars of the facts of

JAMES USHEK, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 501

this question, we shall, without undertaking1 to do more' than our
authorities, mention a few of the leading points.

In ancient times we learn from Giraldus and other antiquarian
writers, that the endowments of the ancient abbeys and churches fell
under the care or protection of their powerful lay neighbours. In times
when rights were uncertain and feebly guarded, and when arbitrary
proceedings and usurpations constituted rather the rule than the
exception, protection, naturally subject to abuse, stole into encroach-
ment, and encroachment into usurpation: the ecclesiastical lands
became gradually the possession of the laymen, by whom they were
protected and administered, subject to a certain proportion, we believe
a third, for the maintenance of the ecclesiastical corporation: and
prescription, the mother of right, confirmed this species of estate.
The lay proprietor thus constituted, did not, however, suffer any lapse
of the privileges attendant upon the original tenure, and the property
thus held retained the ecclesiastical privilege of being exempted from
taxation. It was thus, according to some antiquarians, called termon
or privileged ; in Usher's words, " tearmuin is used in the Irish tongue
for a sanctuary." He seems to think the word may have been "borrowed
by the Irish, as many other words are, from the Latin, terminus, by
reason that such privileged places were commonly designed by special
marks and bounds: Terminus sancti loci habeat signa circa se." So
far this ancient state of things is tolerably free from any essential
difficulty; but from this so many nice differences exist between anti-
quarian writers, that we should exhaust pages in endeavouring to
cast the balance between them, without after all arriving at any
certainty. The holders of the estates above described were called
Corban and Eirenach, which latter were inferior in dignity. The
Corban, it seems agreed, were sometimes lay and sometimes clerical ;
but the times and other circumstances are liable to question. We
believe the rationale to be this ; that in the primitive signification, the
words implied certain ecclesiastical offices and dignities connected
with the estates, and by an easy and natural transition passing with
them into a lay character. The Eirenach were, by the admission of
most antiquarians, the archdeacons whose office it was to administer
the estates of the church. Concerning the Corbes there is more diffi-
culty : but it is clear, that they were at times lay and at times ecclesi-
astical; and also that they were persons who held some right in the
estates of bishoprics and abbeys. Usher is accused of confounding them
with Chorepiscopi, who were monks raised to the episcopal order, with-
out the ecclesiastical power, province, or temporal dignity and estate.
The Corban, as well as we can understand writers who have them-
selves no very clear understanding on the subject, come so nearly to
the same thing, that the dispute as to their difference, may well be
called de lana caprina : according to those learned writers who would
make this weighty distinction, they were successors to ecclesiasti-
cal dignities, and it is further admitted that they were possessed of
the estates of the dignitaries in subsequent times, when it is testified
by Colgan, that they were mostly laymen. Now considering these
premises, we think that the writers who would convict Usher of having

502

TKANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

confused these ancient offices, have proceeded on very slight and not
absolutely authoritative grounds. It must, however, be admitted, that
these offices were not absolutely in their whole extent identical at any
time, from the impossibility of the thing. And it must be allowed,
that the Corbans were mostly laymen in the time of Colgan, who
deposes to the fact. But in reasoning back to their earlier history,
we should in the absence of more minute information, incline to
agree with Usher's notion, granting it to be insufficiently guarded.
The importance of the point then was that it evidently tended to estab-
lish the ecclesiastical character of estates vested in the Corban. But
we are led beyond our purpose.

As we have said, the difficulties experienced by the king in the ec-
clesiastical settlement of Ireland, were increased by the conflicting
claims of different parties, lay and ecclesiastical: while the clergy put
in their claim to considerable portions of his grants. The lay lords
possessed, and would, if they were suffered, have held with a firm
gripe the lands of the church: according to the king's complaint, "he
found the estate of the bishoprics in Ulster much entangled, and al-
together unprofitable to the bishops; partly by the challenge which the
late temporal Irish lords made to the church's patrimony within their
countries, thereby to discourage all men of worth and learning, through
want of maintenance, to undertake the care of those places, and to
continue the people in ignorance and barbarism, the more easily to
lead them into their own measures ; and partly by the claims of pa-
tentees, who, under colour of abbey and escheated lands, passed by
patent many of the church lands, not excepting even the site of cathe-
dral churches, and the place of residence of bishops, deans, and canons,
to the great prejudice and decay of religion, and the frustrating his
religious intent for the good government and reformation of those
parts."*

The condition of the livings, and of the churches, was equally de-
plorable. To remedy this state of the Irish church, the king ordered
a general restitution of these possessions, and that such lands as
could be ascertained to have been ecclesiastical, should be restored.
At the same time, he ordered that composition should be offered those
who held abbey lands, or sites belonging to cathedrals, or other episcopal
property. Or in such cases, where a fair equivalent should be refused,
that the patents should be vacated by a regular process : in this, pro-
ceeding on the not unwarranted assumption of the illegality of the pa-
tent. To provide for the inferior clergy, the bishops were engaged to
give up their impropriations and their tithes, in consideration of a full
equivalent from the crown lands.")"

Usher's discourse, which, with great force of reason, and a copious
pile of authentic proof, appeared satisfactorily to clear the fact on which
the entire arrangement was reposed as its principle of decision, could not
fail to be acceptable to the king, who alone is responsible for the ap-
plication. It was presented by Bancroft, and received with approba-
tion. And such was its importance deemed, that it was translated

* Carte, I. 17.

f Carte, Leland, Mant.

into Latin "by the celebrated antiquary, Sir Henry Spelman, in whose
glossary it was published.

In 1611, when he had attained his 30th year, he was offered the
situation of provost in the university. In the infancy of this noble
institution, neither the emolument nor dignity of an office which has
since, in dignity at least, risen to a level approaching that of the epis-
copal chair, could be considered as offering a fair compensation for the
sacrifice of learned pursuits, of which the extent, interest, and impor-
tance, were enough to exact all the time which could be so appropri-
ated; and Usher was independent of the consideration of emolument,
so that his refusal may be considered nearly as a consequence. The
reader may justly consider the claims of literature at any time,
or under any circumstances, insufficient to excuse the refusal of so im-
portant a duty; and as an excuse, little reconcileable with the sacred
calling, we might refer to the remarks already made in this memoir.
But we notice such an objection here to recall the fact, that in Usher's
time religion and literature were nearly commensurate ; the taste of
the age was theology — a fact on which, were we engaged in the
history of England or Scotland, we should feel compelled to take a
wide range, for the purpose of tracing its vast effects as a political
element. Here we need only say, that the structure of our ecclesiastical
foundations was still incomplete ; and the obscurity of a rude age was
filled by a vast mass of floating controversies which embroiled church
and state, and finally rushed together like conflicting torrents in the
abyss of the civil wars: but the reader will more appropriately rcollect
the palpable fact of that struggle between adverse churches, on which
the fate of his own country then depended : these, and many such con-
siderations, on which we forbear to enter, will convey some sense of
the strong leading influences which overruled the course of one who
has many claims to be placed high among the most eminent contro-
versial writers of his time. That as a controversialist, such a position
may be assigned to Usher, will be admitted on the authority of Mil-
ton, who mentions him with bishop Andrews, as the ablest of his op-
ponents in the controversy on Episcopacy.

Of this portion of the eventful life of Usher, we find scanty notices
of any personal interest. The growing reputation of the polemic and
scholar is indelibly traced by monuments of toil and genius, and this
is doubtless as it should be: such men live in their studies, and sur-
vive in their works.

In 1613 he took his degree of D.D., on which occasion he preached
his two sermons on Dan. ix. 24, and Rev. xx. 4. These were proba-
bly discourses on the topics which they obviously suggest — topics in
every way accordant with Usher's views and qualifications, leading as
they do into the depths of church history, and largely abounding with
the materials for the controversies then most agitated. Of this a
reasonable conjecture may be formed from the subject of a great
work which he commenced, and in part published in the same year,
being his first treatise on the state and succession of the christian
churches : a work of great reach and compass, in which, commencing
from the termination of the first six centuries, an interval on which

504 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

Jewel had perhaps left nothing- material unsaid, he showed that a
visible church of Christ has always existed, independent of the church
of Rome, and untainted with its errors: and that the British islands
did not derive their Christianity from that church. In the course of
his argument, he gives a full and satisfactory account of the Walden-
ses; — his exposition of the prophecies, as bearing on the history of the
christian church, is not in some respects such as to harmonize with
the views of modern expositors. This, assuming him to be in this
respect erroneous, demands no deduction from our estimate of Usher:
the ablest minds have gone astray in the mysterious depths of revela-
tions, which, in a few brief verses, comprehend the events of unborn
ages : the dissent of the most powerful and gifted intellects which have
enlightened the church, proves how little human faculties can cope with
a subject which might have been more plainly delivered, if it were
designed to be more surely read. We cannot venture to speak of the
quantum of truth or error in the doctrines of the able writers on such
a subject as the Millenarian controversy, and this is not the place to
express our own views on any topic of controversy. But we ought
to observe, that as vast lapses of time are in the Almighty mind
compressed into minute points; so on the contrary, in the bounded com-
prehension of human thought, a little time with its events are expanded
into a compass and an importance inordinately large ; and thus it seems
to have happened that the human mind has in every age been disposed
so to narrow the prophetic periods as to conclude the wide drama of
time, with the events of the existing age. Of this, there could not in-
deed be a better illustration than the delusions of the world in every age
on the subject of the Millennium, which has always been a dazzling
but retreating vision to human enthusiasm. In Usher's expositions
on the subject there was undoubtedly none of this alloy; but there was
a strong controversial zeal, which found in such views an important
accession to his argument. It was, undoubtedly, an adjunct of no
slight efficacy against the church of Rome, to find the dawn of the
Millennium with its concurrent events in the eleventh century. In a
few years more, this argument might have served a different end. The
Millennium has ever been a snare to the passions and imagination:
unable to rise to the conception of spiritual objects, men too often
make an effort to bring down the promises of divine revelation to the
level of their senses ; and the passions seldom fail to steal in and give
their own carnal colouring to the picture. To the truth of this repre-
sentation, many a dark page in church history bears witness. Usher
lived to see an awful example, how such vain and sinful adulterations of
divine truth might become an awful ingredient in the caldron of human
crime and wrath, when the fifth-monarchy men, in the frenzy of no
holy fanaticism, rushed knee-deep in blood and blasphemy to realize
their dream of the saints' reign on earth.

Usher's work was presented by Abbot to the king, to whom it was
dedicated. The king had himself, some years before, written a book
to prove the Pope to be Antichrist, and was highly pleased with the
presentation. The main line of argument is one which the labour of
after-time has not deprived of its value, either by successful rivalry or
opposition. The proof, that there have existed in every age, churches,

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 505

founded on the doctrine and testimony of scripture, independent of
and opposed in vain by the Roman see, remains beyond the reach of
controversy. Many able modern writers have taken up this impor-
tant subject, and it is one which cannot be too often brought for-
ward by such writers as maintain the side of protestantism. But lit-
tle can be said that Usher has left unsaid. The work was only
pursued to the fourteenth century : in a letter, written some years
after, he mentions his intention to complete it, on the appearance of
his uncle Stanihurst's work in answer to the first part, then sent to
be printed in Paris. This intention was never carried into effect, it
is said owing* to the loss of his papers in the confusion of the rebel-
lion.

In this year Usher married the daughter of his old friend Chaloner.
This marriage had been earnestly desired by Chaloner, who is said to
have expressed the wish in his last will. Both parties were inclined con-
formably to a desire which was founded on his anxiety for the happi-
ness of his daughter, and his deep impression of the worth and sterling
value of his friend. The marriage was celebrated, and we believe
added essentially to the happiness of both.

The next affair in which Usher appears to have taken a part, which
strongly indicates the rising ascendancy of his character, demands notice
also by reason of its importance in the history of the Irish church.
From the first introduction of the reformation into Ireland, there had
formally at least been a strict agreement of doctrine and discipline be-
tween the protestant churches in the two countries. The English
articles and canons, as well as the liturgy, had been received and
agreed to in this island, and there was a generally understood, if not
formal, acknowledgment of subordination to the superior authority
of the English church. Many circumstances arising- out of the state
and changes of theological opinions; and the peculiar constituency of
the Irish clergy at this time led to a considerable revolution in this re-
spect. Of these causes, a slig'ht sketch will be here enough.

Soon after the reformation, a vast change came over the character
of theological studies, which cannot be better illustrated than by the
fact that, in the latter part of the fifteenth century, upwards of fifty
elaborate works were written, to explain and apply the scriptures and
writings of the earlier fathers of the church. But under any com-
bination of circumstances, human nature, still the same, must be pro-
ductive of the same fruits. The same disposition to frame systems,
to give a preponderant weight to unessential points, and on these to
run into divisions and sects, which first enfeebled and obscured, and
afterwards continued through a long train of ages to overrun with
briars the dilapidated walls of the church, still continued in its revival
to manifest its fatal efficiency in various ways. The protestant church
was unhappily not more free from divisions than that from the com-
munion of which it had departed : but the light and the liberty which
were after ten centuries restored, had the effect of making these divi-
sions more perceptible. From this many consequences had arisen, of
which we can here notice but a few which are involved in this period
of our church history. We need not travel back to trace the progress
of dissent in England, after the clergy, who, during queen Mary's

506 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

reign, had fled for refuge from the rack and faggot into the shelter
of foreign protestant churches, at her death came back laden with
the tenets of those churches: from that period religious dissent in
England grew broader in its lines of separation, and more decisive
in its consequences, till times beyond those in which we are en-
gaged. In Ireland the difficulty of finding qualified ministers for
the poor and barbarous livings of the country, excluded much nicety
of selection on the part of the government, and numerous ministers
were imported, of whose practical qualifications in every respect it
is impossible to speak justly, save in terms of profound rever-
ence and courtesy : christian in life, spirit, and teaching, they were
nevertheless variously distinguishable by their dissent on some points
of doctrine and ecclesiastical polity on which the articles of agreement
in all christian churches must needs be distinct and explicit within cer-
tain limits. Though entitled thus to all our respect as christian bre-
thren, a question mainly political in its nature arises (with reference to
the period), how far an apparent schism in the bosom of the protestant
church, at such a time and in such circumstances, must have been de-
trimental to Ireland. Among the prominent facts which may be spe-
cified, as of immediate importance to this memoir, was the general
disposition of the Irish clergy to the doctrinal tenets of Geneva. This
tendency probably gave activity to their desire of independence of the
English church, which, considering the distinct polity of the two king-
doms, their common government, and the consequences essentially re-
sulting from these two conditions, was natural. To secure this inde-
pendence, a strong temper had therefore been some time increasing, and
in 1614, when a parliament and convocation were held in Dublin, the
Irish clergy gave their consent to one hundred and four articles drawn
up by Usher, whom superior learning and authority had recommended
as the fittest person for so nice and difficult a task.

Of these articles, it is neither the business of these memoirs, nor
our inclination, to say anything in detail — we must keep aloof from
the labyrinth of pure polemics. Our business is with history. The
history of these articles may, and must, here be told in a few words.
They were founded on the well-known articles, drawn up by Whitgift
in the year 1594, in concert with deputies from the university of Cam-
bridge, then the centre and stronghold of English dissent. They are
known by the title of the " Nine Articles of Lambeth," and as may
be inferred from their source, were favourable to the views then upper-
most in the Irish church. In England, it should be observed, that
they never became law, having been rejected by the queen, advised by
Andrews, Overall, and other eminent divines, and withdrawn by Whit-
gift, who proposed them as private articles of agreement between the
universities, to reconcile the differences of which, is said to have been
the ostensible pretext of their composition. They were again proposed
by Reynolds, the puritan divine, at the conference before the king at
Hampton court, among other less important (though still vital) condi-
tions of agreement between the church and the puritan clergy, who
had not then in England adopted the principle of presbyter ian govern-
ment, although it was on this celebrated occasion sufficiently involved,

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 507

so as (perhaps) to be the principal means to secure the rejection of the
whole.

The Lambeth articles were ingrafted by Usher into the draught of ar-
ticles adopted by the Irish convocation, and by the king's consent these
were confirmed as the articles of the Irish church, We cannot further
stop to detail the character and scope of these articles.* They were in
the highest degree Calvinistic. In proof of this it may be enough for us
to state, without any comment, a portion of the article "of God's eternal
decree and predestination," as follows : — " By the same eternal coun-
sel, God hath predestinated some unto life, and reprobated some unto
death ; of both which there is a certain number, known only to God,
which can neither be increased nor diminished."

Other peculiarities of these articles we shall again have occasion to
notice, when after no long interval they once more were brought into
discussion. They were now received and confirmed in this convoca-
tion, and for a time continued to be received and signed as the articles
of the Irish church. They had the effect in Ireland of setting at rest
all present differences between the two main bodies of the protestant
clergy. In England, however, this act appears to have been very much
looked upon as the result of a conspiracy to strengthen the party
of the English Calvinists, by obtaining a strong party in Ireland.

Such was probably the spirit in which the agency of Usher on that
occasion was censured in the English court. The king's sense on the
subject was actuated by opposing considerations. He had professed his
assent and favour towards the doctrines of Calvinism, while he hated the
puritans, whose views of church government he considered as incon-
sistent with the rights of kings — the point on which alone he cherish-
ed any sincere 2eal. It was conveyed in whispers to the royal ear,
that Usher was a puritan, and it was understood that the king enter-
tained towards him a distrust unfavourable to his hopes of preferment.
But Usher stood far too high at this time, in the esteem of all who
were in any way influential in either country, for the whispering of
private rivalry to be long suffered to remain unchecked by contradiction.
Such prejudices as may have been thus raised, had but time to become
observable, when, in 161 9> the lord-deputy (St John) and council took
up the matter with creditable zeal, and urged him to go over to Eng-
land, with a letter which they wrote to the privy council, to vindicate his
character. In this letter they mentioned the reports and calumnies
which were supposed to have influenced the king, and testify to the
truth, in the following high and strong representation: — " We are so
far from suspecting him in that kind, that we may boldly recommend
him to your lordships, as a man orthodox and worthy to govern in the
church, when occasion shall be presented, and his majesty may be
pleased to advance him; he being a man who has given himself over
to his profession, an excellent and painful preacher, a modest man.
abounding in goodness, and his life and doctrine so agreeable, [con-

* To those who wish for general information, enougn may be found in Mant's
History of the Irish Church ; in which, by judicious selection, a fair outline is given
of a subject otherwise beyond the compass of common read'ere.

508 TKANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

formable with each other,] as those who agree not with him, are vet
constrained to love and admire him."

With this favourable testimony, Usher passed over to England, and
had a long conference with the king, who was highly satisfied with
his opinions and delighted with his learning, judgment, and masterly
command of thought and language. Happily, during Usher's sojourn in
London, the bishoprick of Meath fell vacant, and the king nominated
him at once to that see, and boasted that " Usher was a bishop of
his own making; and that, although indeed the knave puritan was a
bad man, the knave's puritan was an honest man."

The appointment gave universal satisfaction ; for by this time Usher
stood high with the learned of Europe. By the learned he was re-
spected for his talent and erudition, while his worth obtained friends,
even among those to whom his profession and known doctrines were
ungrateful. " Even some papists have largely testified their gladness
of it," wrote the lord-deputy, in a letter of congratulation on the oc-
casion. He preached soon after in St Margaret's church, before the
English house of commons, who ordered the sermon to be printed.
It was a discourse on transubstantiation, from 1 Cor. x. 17. The oc-
casion was such as to set in a very strong aspect the general respect
for Usher's controversial ability. The commons had, it seems, con-
ceived the idea that some of the Romish communion had obtained seats,
and it was considered that the most satisfactory test would be afford-
ed by the sacrament, for which the house appointed Sunday, 18th Feb-,
1 620. The prebendaries of Westminster claimed their privilege, but
the house, with its characteristic tenacity, insisted on its own choice.
King James was at the time engaged in a matrimonial negotiation
for prince Henry with the Spanish Infanta, and shrunk from a pro-
ceeding which set in a glaring public light the national creed, which,
it was feared, might offend the bigotry of that superstitious court ; but
having been appealed to on the occasion, he signified his preference of
Usher. On the Tuesday previous to this anxious occasion, "being Shrove-
Tuesday, Usher dined with the king, and had much conversation on the
subject." Of this his own account remains: — "He [the king] said I
had an unruly flock to look unto the next Sunday. He asked me how
I thought it could stand with true divinity, that so many hundred
should be tied, on so short a warning, to receive the communion on a
day : all could not be in charity after so late contentions in the house.
Many must come without preparation, and eat their own condemna-
tion: that himself required his whole household to receive the com-
munion, but not on the same day, unless at Easter, when the whole
Lent was a time of preparation. He bade me tell them I hoped
they were all prepared, but wished they might be better; to exhort
them to unity and concord; to love God first, and then their prince
a ad their country; to look to the urgent necessities of the times, and
the miserable state of Christendom, with bis dat, qui cito dat." This
practical concluding application of the royal divinity, so ludicrously
characteristic of the speaker, must probably have exacted some power
of countenance in his hearers.

On returning to Ireland, Usher was consecrated by primate Hamp-
ton, 1621, at Drogheda, where consecrations by the primate had

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND.

509

commonly been solemnized, on account of the jealousy of the arch-
bishops of Dublin, while the point of precedence remained yet undecided
between the sees of Armagh and Dublin. Usher entered on the
duties of his see with the alacrity and prudence which had till then
marked his character. The conduct he pursued to the members of
the church of Rome was gentle but firm: their conversion had ever
been one of the principal objects of his life, to which his researches
and preaching had been mainly directed. He now endeavoured to
win them by gentleness and persuasion. It was his wish to preach
to them : they objected to coming to church, but consented to at-
tend and hear him anywhere out of church. Usher borrowed the
sessions' house, and his sermon was so impressive and effectual, that
the people were forbidden by the priests to attend any more.

On the proceedings of the missionaries of this church in Ireland,
at the period at which we are now arrived, 'we have already had occa-
sion to offer some notices: some little further detail will now be neces-
sary to explain justly the conduct of our bishop in a proceeding
which drew upon him some very unmerited obloquy. At this
time it so happened, that numerous friars had begun to flock into the
kingdom, and the see of Rome had begun to assume a determined and
earnest line of policy, with reference to the extension of its pale, and
Ireland came in for an ample share of the mighty mother's regard. This
fact may itself be generally explained to the reader, by an event of dis-
tinguished importance in the history of the Roman see — the institution
of the congregation of the Propaganda, fertile in consequence, and it-
self the consequence of a vast infusion of fresh life, which took place in the
year following Usher's promotion. On this point, a letter written in
1633, from the bishop of Kilmore to the bishop of London, gives an
authoritative view of the essential particulars. The writer mentions,
" That in that crown [of Ireland] the Pope had a far greater king-
dom than his majesty had; that the said kingdom of the Pope was
governed by the new congregation, de propaganda fide, established
not long since at Rome; that the Pope had there a clergy depending
on him, double in number to the English, the heads of which were
bound by a corporal oath to maintain his power and greatness, against
all persons whatsoever; that for the moulding of the people to the
Pope's obedience, there was a rabble of irregular regulars, most of them
the younger sons of noble houses, which made them the more insolent
and uncontrollable ; that the Pope had erected an university in Dublin,
to confront his majesty's college there, and breed up the youth of the
kingdom to his devotion, one Harris being dean thereof, who had dis-
persed a scandalous pamphlet against the lord-primate's sermon
preached at Wanstead, (one of the best pieces that ever came from
him,) anno 1 629 ; that since the dissolving of their new friaries in the
city of Dublin, they had erected them in the country, and had brought
the people to such a sottish negligence, that they cared not to learn
the commandments as God spake them and left them, but flocked in
multitudes to the hearing of such superstitious doctrines as some of
their own priests were ashamed of; that a synodical meeting of their
clergy had been held lately at Drogheda, in the province of Ulster,
in which it was decreed, that it was not lawful to take the oath of al-

510 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

legiance, and therefore, that in such a conjuncture of affairs, to think
that the bridle of the army might be taken away, must be the thought,
not of a brain-sick, but of a brainless man, which whosoever did en-
deavour, not only would oppose his majesty's service, but expose his
own neck to the skeans of those Irish cut-throats."* This is but one of
many such authentic documents, from which it appears that a change
of tone and spirit began to elevate in Ireland the head of a power
and party so often subdued in vain. Fears began to be excited among
those who had lived long enough to recall the miseries and terrors of old
timea: the authority of Usher was insulted, by a repetition of scenes
which had often signalized the approach of troublesome times, and the
reader may recollect the long-cherished anticipation to which every
year had added new strength in his mind. He saw in everything that
occurred the pregnant signs of the war to come: and whatever was
his error in theory, his conjectures were at least coincident with
events, and the inference is not unworthy of attentive consideration.
A true anticipation, though it should be the chance result of human
error, is still as certain a clue to appearances, as if it had been derived
from the infallibility of demonstration. Usher, if at first right by error,
must have looked with an enlightened eye on passing events ; for in the
sequence of human affairs, the causes are easier to deduce from the
consequence, than the consequences from the cause: a cause may
undergo a thousand modifications, any one of which may change the
event, but the event necessarily fixes the series of which it is the result
It is thus easy to apprehend how, in adopting a consequence truly, Usher
became possessed of a principle of interpretation, which, however ob-
tained, must have opened his eyes to the future. Had he been inclined
to sleep on his post, as an overseer of the church, the authorities of the
papal power in Ireland were to be accused of no relaxation, and there
was no mixture of fear or conciliation in the course of conduct which
confronted him even in his own diocese. They had not only forbidden
attendance on the protestant churches, but went so far as in some
places to seize on them for their own use. They also had erected or
repaired ecclesiastical edifices at Multifernan, Kilconnel, Buttevant-
&c, &c, as also in the cities of Waterford and Kilkenny, with the
express intention of restoring the " ancient religion" in its imagined
splendour of old times. These significant indications had, in Usher's
time, not diminished under the increasing relaxation of civil vigilance.
The relaxation was doubtless in itself salutary, and the result of a
great natural process of society, by which severe and harsh laws fall
into disuse as the necessity for them decreases — a provision for the ad-
vances of civilization. But in Ireland such processes have been ever
unhappily neutralized by actions about as wise as an attempt to pro-
mote the growth of a plant by mechanical force ; and no sooner were
the fears and animosities of troubled times beginning to lose their
force, than they were doomed to be re-excited into a festering vitality,
by the renewal of the ancient indications of the periodical eruptions of
national folly and fury ; and the inefficiency of the Irish executive go-
vernment supplied no counterbalance to this deeply and widely gather-

* Life of Laud, by Heylin.

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 511

ing evil. A mist of perpetual infatuation hung suspended over Dublin
castle — artful misrepresentations, fallacious appeals, and the abuse of
general principles, the missapplication of which has ever constituted
a large portion of the wisdom of public men — false equity, false cle-
mency, and false public spirit, with wrong notions both of human nature
and the social state, united with private interest, timidity, and indo-
lence, to preserve the still and dignified repose of the administration,
till the moment of danger was present. To the class of imbecile
officials, of which an Irish government has been too often composed,
tardy to meet danger, though often ready enough to be vindictive in
the hour of triumph, Usher had no affinity : he was neither yielding
from weakness that fears, or vanity that courts the popular sense. As
he had been zealous to conciliate by love, and convince by reason, so
he was ready to repress, by a just and salutary exercise of the law, when
he considered that the necessity had arisen. That this was the real
import of every indication of the times, was indeed a truth; but it is
enough that it was the impression of his mind, and this consideration
may satisfy the reader of the real character of that conduct which at
this period of his career excited much clamour among his enemies, and
surprised some of his friends; when he made a strong appeal to the
lord Falkland, on being desired to preach before him on his arrival as
lord-deputy, when he received the sword of state. On this occasion,
Usher took for his text, " He beareth not the sword in vain," and
so strongly urged the duty of enforcing the laws, that an outcry was
excited. He was accused by foes and reproached by friends ; but the
fury of those against whom the weight of his counsel seemed levelled,
was such as to create considerable alarm. Nothing less than a massacre
of the papists was reported to be the subject of his advice. It was
strongly urged upon him to prevent, by a " voluntary retractation," the
complaints which were in preparation against him, and for a time to
withdraw into his diocese. Such was the sum of the advice of the
good primate Hampton, his old friend and patron. Usher was a man
of more firm mettle, or if not, at least more truly awake to the real
emergencies of the time. He addressed a letter to lord Grandison,
in which he firmly maintained his own conduct, and vindicated himself
from the perversions of his sense. He pointed out and insisted on the
fact, that he had guarded against such misconstructions, and deprecated
persecution. Indeed, considering the actual attitude of defiance which
had at that moment been taken by the Romish friars, the mere notion
of persecution having been thought of by any party sincerely, is ex-
tremely absurd. Usher's representations were not only just and wise,
but moderate ; but no moderation can silence the clamour that is never
sincere, or be enough for those who prefer inaction, or who can see no
danger less than a tempest or conflagration. Nevertheless, Usher's
vindicatory letter had the effect of silencing many who had no desire
to provoke inquiry, and all who were open to reason; and as there
were many who entered fully in the same views, the effect was that of
a triumph. The primate in his letter seems to have delicately impress-
ed upon Usher his opinion on the inclination which appeared in his
conduct, to pass his time in the city rather than in his diocese ; and it
will be generally allowed, that for the most part, the proper place for

512 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

a bishop is among- his clergy, where his duties lie. But we have al-
ready, in this memoir, expressed at sufficient length the grounds upon
which men such as Usher must ever be looked on in some measure as
exceptions. In that early stage of literature, when the structure of
our theological foundations demanded so much of that ability and skill
which were yet more difficult to attain, men like him must have felt
the call to fill the place of master-builders. It may, we grant, be said,
that there is no necessity why they should be bishops, and in our own
time we should be inclined to allow something for the point; for the
demands of christian theology are very much diminished. It seems,
indeed, hard, that the most able writers should at any time be exclud-
ed from the highest stations. This is, however, but specious; such
persons may find their reward and their vocation elsewhere.

The position of the protestant church in Ireland was then peculiar ; and
we know not whether we must give credit to Usher's sagacity, or suppose
his mind and temper cast providentially for the exigency of the times ; but
his conduct with regard to the presbyterian clergy was not only indul-
gent, but marked by a liberality which, though called for by the state of
the Irish church, mig-ht in other times bave exposed him to the charge
of being somewhat latitudinarian. He allowed several who yet contin-
ued to be presbyterians, to retain their cures, though they rejected tbe
liturgy; and allowed presbyters to join him in the ordination of such
as adhered to that communion. In answer to the objection which
seems to be suggested by this departure from the fundamental prin-
ciple of the existence of a church, (the strict maintenance of its own
constitution,) it must be said, that without this he should have had
many benefices utterly unprovided with a clergyman. And it must
be allowed, that when such an alternative is unhappily imposed, the
essential interests of Christianity should be considered beyond all com-
parison above the minor, though still important question of churches.
Not to be ourselves open to the same charge, we should distinctly say
that this allowance is evidently limited by the assumption which the
immediate case admits of — that both churches agree in those articles
of doctrine which are essential to the christian faith.

Less equivocal were the exertions he made to reform and recruit
the ministry of his diocese, by the care he took as to their qualifica-
tions for the sacred calling, and the assiduous exertions he made to
ensure the improvement of those who were in preparation for holy
orders. He omitted no proper means to ascertain the moral and spi-
ritual character of those who came to his ordinations, acting with con-
scientious strictness in the spirit of the apostolic precept, " Lay hands
suddenly upon no man." The judicious advice which he gave to the
theological students, we may for brevity here offer, as given by Dr
Parr.

"1st, Read and study the scriptures carefully, wherein is the best
learning, and only infallible truth. They can furnish you with the
best materials for your sermons — the only rules for faith and practice
— the most powerful motives to persuade and convince the conscience
— and the strongest arguments to confute all errors, heresies, and
schisms. Therefore, be sure let all your sermons be congruous to

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 513

them; and it is expedient that you understand them as well in the
originals as in the translations.

" 2d, Take not hastily up other men's opinions without due trial, nor
vent your own conceits ; but compare them first with the analogy of
faith and rules of holiness recorded in the scriptures, which are the
proper tests of all opinions and doctrines.

" 3d, Meddle with controversies and doubtful points as little as may
be in your popular preaching, lest you puzzle your hearers, or engage
them in wrangling disputations, and so hinder their conversion, which
is the main end of preaching.

" 4th, Insist more on those points which tend to effect sound belief,
sincere love to God, repentance for sin, and that may persuade to ho-
liness of life. Press these things home to the consciences of your
hearers, as of absolute necessity, leaving no gap for evasions, but bind
them as closely as may be to their duty. And as you ought to preach
sound and orthodox doctrine, so ought you to deliver God's message
as near as may be in God's words ; that is, in such as are plain and
intelligible, that the meanest of your auditors may understand. To
which end it is necessary to back all the precepts and doctrines with
apt proofs from holy scriptures ; avoiding all exotic phrases, scholastic
terms, unnecessary quotations from authors, and forced rhetorical
figures, since it is not difficult to make easy things appear hard; but
to render hard things easy, is the hardest part of a good orator as well
as preacher.

" oth, Get your heart sincerely affected with the things you persuade
others to embrace, that so you may preach experimentally, and your
hearers may perceive that you are in good earnest, and press nothing
upon them but what may tend to their advantage, and which yourself
would enter your salvation on.

" 6th, Study and consider well the subjects you intend to preach on,
before you come into the pulpit, and then words will readily offer
themselves. Yet think what you are about to say before you speak,
avoiding all uncouth fantastical words or phrases, or nauseous or ridi-
culous expressions, which will quickly bring your preaching into con-
tempt, and make your sermons and person the subjects of sport and
ridicule.

"7th, Dissemble not the truths of God in any case, nor comply with
the lusts of men, nor give any countenance to sin by word or deed.

" 8th, But above all, you must never forget to order your own con-
versation as becomes the gospel, that so you may teach by example as
well as precept, and that you may appear a good divine everywhere,
as well as in the pulpit ; for a minister's life and conversation is more
heeded than his doctrine.

" 9th, Yet, after all this, take heed that you be not puffed up with
spiritual pride of your own virtues, nor with a vain conceit of your
parts and abilities ; nor yet be transported with the praise of men, nor
be dejected or discouraged by the scoffs or frowns of the wicked or
profane."

" He would also," says Dr Parr, " exhort those who were already
engaged in this holy function, and advise them how they might well

II. 2 K Ir.

discharge their duty in the church of God, answerably to their calling
to this effect: — You are engaged in an excellent employment in the
church, and intrusted with weighty matters, as stewards of our Great
Master, Christ, the Great Bishop. Under him, and by his commis-
sion, you are to endeavour to reconcile men to God, to convert sinners,
and build them up in the holy faith of the gospel, and that they may
be saved, and that repentance and remission of sins may be preached
in his name. This is of the highest importance, and requires faith-
fulness, diligence, prudence, and watchfulness. The souls of men are
committed to our care and guidance, and the eyes of God, angels, and
men, are upon us, and great is the account we must make to our Lord
Jesus Christ, who is the supreme head of his church, and will at
length reward or punish his servants in this ministry of his gospel, as
he shall find them faithful or negligent. Therefore it behoves us to
exercise our best talents, labouring in the Lord's vineyard with all
diligence, that we may bring- forth fruit, and that the fruit may remain.

" This is work we are separated for and ordained unto. We must
not think to be idle or careless in this office, but must bend our minds
and studies, and employ all our gifts and abilities in this service. We
must preach the word of faith, that men may believe aright, and the
doctrine and laws of godliness, that men may act as becomes Christians
indeed. For without faith no man can please God; and without holi-
ness no man can enter into the kingdom of heaven."

From his chaplain, Dr Bernard, we learn that it was his custom to
preach in the church on the Sunday mornings, " after which," says
the Doctor, " in the afternoon this was his order to me, that, besides
the catechising the youth before public prayers, I should, after the
first and second lessons, spend about half an hour in briefly and plainly
opening the principles of religion in the public catechism, and after
that I was to preach also. First, he directed me to go through the
creed alone, giving but the sum of each article; then next time at
thrice, and afterwards each time an article, as they might be more
able to bear it; and so proportionably, the ten commandments, the
Lord's Prayer, and the doctrine of the sacraments, the good fruit of
which was apparent in the vulgar people upon their approach unto the
communion, when, as by the then order, the names of the receivers
were to be given in, so some account was constantly taken of their fit-
ness for it."

By these extracts from the memorial of an eye-witness, it is evident
that however assiduous he was in his important studies, Usher cannot
be described as remiss in the duties of his sacred vocation. He visit-
ed his clergy — instructed them — reproved and controlled when it was
necessary — directed and aided their efforts — and, when in the dis-
charge of their duties they met with such resistance and incurred such
reproach, as was a natural result from the state of the country, he
stood up firmly in their behalf. He also gave much attention to the
correction of abuses which had become established in the ecclesiastical
courts. In this his sound prudence, however, restrained him, and pre-
vented his going to the length to which Bedell was led by hia zeal
for right, and primitive simplicity of nature.

During his continuance in the diocese of Meath, many interesting

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 515

instances of the benevolent sagacity of Usher's character have been
transmitted; we may here select a case, which is rather curious in itself,
as a specimen of that derangement which not unfrequently clouds the
retirement of studious persons of weak understanding and enthusiastic
temper. A clergyman of the diocese, a man of very retired and stu-
dious habits, had fallen into the notion that the restoration of the
Jews was to be effected by his instrumentality. This insane delusion
was reported to Usher, who has given his own account of the circum-
stances, together with an account of his treatment of another case
of the same nature: — " I sent for the party, and upon conference had
with him, I put him in mind that his conceits were contrary to the
judgment of the church of Christ, from the beginning of the gospel
unto this day, and that of old they were condemned for heretical in
the Nazarites. But finding- that for the present he was not to be
wrought upon by any reasoning, and that time was the only means to
cure him of this sickness, I remembered what course I had heretofore
held with another in this country, who was so far engaged in this
opinion of the calling of the Jews, (though not of the revoking of Ju-
daism,) that he was strongly persuaded he himself should be the man
that should effect this great work, and to this purpose wrote an He-
brew epistle, (which I have still in my hands,) directed to the dispers-
ed Jews. To reason the matter with him I found bootless. I advised
him, therefore, that until the Jews did gather themselves together,
and make choice of him for their captain, he should labour to benefit
his countrymen at home, with that skill he had attained unto in the
Hebrew tongue. I wished him, therefore, to give us an exact trans-
lation of the Old Testament out of the Hebrew verity, which he ac-
cordingly undertook and performed. The translation I have by me,
but before he had finished that task, his conceit of the calling of the
Jews, and his captainship over them, vanished clean away, and was
never heard of after.

"In like manner I dealt with Mr Whitehall; that forasmuch as he
himself acknowledged that the Mosaical rites were not to be practised
until the general calling of the Jews, he might do well, I said, to let that
matter rest till then, and in the mean time, keep his opinion to himself,
and not bring needless trouble upon himself and others, by divulging- it
out of season. And whereas he had intended to write an historical
discourse of the retaining of Judaism under Christianity, I counselled
him rather to spend his pains in setting down the history of purga-
tory, or invocation of saints, or some of the other points in contro-
versy betwixt the church of Rome and us." This advice so far pre-
vailed with Mr Whitehall, that he " offered to bind himself to forbear
meddling any way with his former opinions, either in public or in
private, and to spend his time in any other employment that should be
imposed upon him."

A little after his accession to the see of Meath, a work written by
Malone, a Jesuit, had attracted very considerable attention. In this
the protestants were challenged to try their church by the test of
antiquity: a daring test assuredly, to be appealed to by a church
splendidly conspicuous for the well-marked chronology of every por-
tion of its own vast and powerful architecture. Usher took up the

516 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

challenge, and wrote a reply which exhibited the extent and precision
of his ecclesiastical and theological reading: in this he successively
passed in review all those tenets the growth of several centuries bv which
the church of Rome is distinguished from that of the Reformation.

Some time previous to this incident, he had produced a tract, to
which we have had some occasion to refer in the first division of
these memoirs, upon " the religion of the ancient Irish and Britons."
It unanswerably established the independence of the primitive churches
of the British isles : and has never been met unless by that class of
reasonings which in raising a cloud of uncertain learning about
minute details, contrive to shut out of sight the entire question. The
effect of this sketch was a great accession to the high reputation of
the bishop; and the king, who justly considered the importance of the
subject, and desired to see a work of greater extent and scope, ordered
that Usher should have a license from the Irish counsel, releasing him
from attendance in his diocese, that he might be enabled to pursue in
England the literary researches which such a work would require.
Usher accordingly passed over to England, where he was engaged in
the assiduous pursuit and acquisition of the most ancient and authentic
materials, which give such inestimable value and such high authority
to his great work on the antiquities of the British churches.

He was thus for some time engaged, and had returned from a visit
into Ireland, which was signalized by the above-related adventure
with Malone: when primate Hampton departed this life, Jan. 3, 1625.
On this occasion the king raised Usher at once to the head of the
Irish church. This occurred but six days before the death of king
James, which took place March 27, 1625.

" The reign of king James," writes bishop Mant, has " exhibited
the church of Ireland with features similar to those which marked it
under the preceding reign, but exemplified in a greater variety of
instances. In the province of Leinster from the archdiocese of Dublin,
and from the suffragan united diocese of Ferns and Leighlin, the like
complaints have been heard of an insufficiency of ministers, of an in-
competency of clerical income, and of a want of material edifices for
the celebration of divine worship ; and the complaints have been
echoed through the province of Ulster, from every diocese, with one
solitary exception, which there is no reason to suppose occasioned by
any peculiar advantages which it possessed over the others.

" In Ulster, indeed, the king testified his desire to improve the con-
dition of the church, by grants of land to the clergy, but in many
cases his good intentions were defeated by an inadequate execution —
and although in some instances efforts were made for fixing the clergy
in their proper residences, and for supplying them with buildings for
their official ministrations, the existing evils do not appear to have
been ever fairly grappled with by the governing powers, or to have
called forth a great and simultaneous effort for their remedy, so that
the members of the church were left in a condition of lamentable
destitution, as to the means of assembling for public worship and
instruction, or receiving the aid of pastoral guidance for themselves
or their children; and the rural districts in particular are described
as presenting a spectacle of almost total abandonment and desolation

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 517

'•' The same observations as to the absence of co-operating- and com-
bined exertions, under the auspices of the authorities of the kingdom,
applies to the attempts made for the instruction of the people at large
by the instrumentality of the Irish language. Many instances have
fallen under our own notice, of the existence of Irish incumbents or
curates, of Irish readers, and Irish clerks: but these provisions seem
to have been the result of individual projects of improvement, rather
than of a general and united effort of authority. At the same time
they were met by united and vigorous exertions on the part of the
popish emissaries."*

Among the numerous causes which we have from time to time had
to trace or enumerate, as contributing to the protraction of the
calamities and sufferings of this island, as well as to the tardiness of
growth which has characterized our advance in the progress of civil-
ization, there is none which demands a larger portion of the attention
than that described in the preceding extract. But the reader must
ere this be aware that it offers topics of reflection, and demands state
ments and reasonings which are in a great measure inconsistent with
the tone of a popular history. In some measure it is true, our facts
are so broad in their necessary connexion with the whole fortune of
the country: and her history so essentially turns upon the collisions
of opposing creeds and the policy of the Roman see, that some may
read with a smile our frequent profession of impartiality. We are
compelled to state our opinion, that the inadequacy of the machinery
of the protestant church in Ireland, for the discharge of its human-
izing functions, was the radical defect in the conduct of the legisla-
ture and administration. The violent actions and re-actions of insur-
rection and oppression — the frenzy of the deluded populace, or the
sanctioned plunder of official knavery, were but nearer or remoter effects
of one elemental force that raised the waters of confusion. If it must be
admitted that the evils of an insecure tranquillity and a control inefficient
without the aid of arms and military intervention, on one hand, or on the
other, the anarchy of civil commotion must be the necessary alterna-
tives resulting from a state of things, in which an alien jurisdiction was
maintained by a democratic influence, wholly distinct from and incon-
sistent with the constitution of the national polity; and such an infer-
ence cannot be avoided: then it must be admitted, that the political
agency of the church of Rome in Ireland was irreconcileable with
the welfare of the country; and that a liberal extension and due
support of the Reformed church — at that time the powerful engine of
human advance in ali respects, moral, intellectual, and social — was the
only means of remedying the wretched condition of the country. II
any of our enlightened readers may by a momentary forgetfulness
of history, or by losing sight of the fact that we are speaking of a
remote period, think that there is anything illiberal in the spirit ol
these inevitable reflections, let us remind them, that there was once a
time when the supremacy of the Roman see was a real and undisguised
empire over the councils of kings, and that this power had been
attained and was exercised by the very instrumentality then so con-

* History of the Church of Ireland.

spicuous in the troubled vicissitudes of Irish affairs. Ou this point
no educated person of any creed or party is deceived. And even if
the devoted member of the Romish communion may demur as to the
principle which would lay any stress on civil prosperity, or any merely
secular consideration in a question which he may reason on purely
spiritual grounds, yet he must be compelled to admit, that the exten-
sion of the church which would for ever have put an end to the
internal striving of an external spirit — the force irreconcileable with
the law of the system in which it worked, would in a secular sense
have been a great and manifest advantage to Ireland.

Usher's appointment to the primacy was followed by a severe fit
of illness, which retained him in England to experience the favour of
king Charles, who ordered him four hundred pounds out of the Irish
treasury.

But his delay in England led to an incident of much interest, which
had a very material influence on his after-life, when the foundations of
society, and the fortunes of individuals came to be turned up and scattered
into confusion by the civil wars. He received and accepted an invitation
to the seat of lord Mordaunt, afterwards earl of Peterborough. Lord
Mordaunt was a member of the church of Rome, but his lady was a
protestant. As it commonly happens, the lady was perhaps more
earnest in her spiritual convictions than her lord, and therefore more
alive to an uneasy sense of the difference of faith between them.
Usher's character was universally renowned as the great champion of
his own church, and his visit was looked for with anxious hope by
lady Mordaunt, as the likely means for the conversion of her lord.
Such an effect might, perhaps, have been of more difficult attainment
than her sanguine trust might have foreseen: the tenets of most
men are little dependant on their foundation in reason or authority,
and are as little to be shaken by mere argument : there is a conven-
tional sense among the bulk of men, that every side of a question can
be made good until the opposite side is heard, and large deductions
are mostly made by the ignorant for sophistry and probable misrepre-
sentation. An antagonist is therefore no unessential requisite for
popular conviction, and such an advantage was not wanting on the
occasion to Usher's success. Happily for the wishes of lady Mordaunt,
there lived with the family a man of reputed learning, piety, and con-
troversial skill, and a Jesuit. It was soon arranged that this person
should engage in a regular disputation with Usher. Each was for
three days to maintain the defensive against such objections as his
antagonist should think fit to bring, and in his turn assume the offen-
sive and urge his own objections. For the first three days, Usher
carried on his assault, with what vigour and learning may be estimated
from his known writings. The Jesuit seems to have been decidedly
shaken by the force of his attack; for when it came to his own turn
to be opponent — which it will be recollected is necessarily the easiest
part — he sent the strange but yet characteristic excuse, that he had
been deservedly punished by the forgetfulness of his arguments, for
having presumed to engage in such a contest without the permission
of the superior of his order. The result was such as should be ex-
pected: lord Mordaunt soon declared his adhesion to the reformed

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 519

church, and the archbishop obtained a fast and faithful friend, and a
providential asylum in the hour of need.

In the next year, the English government, at war with France and
Spain, was under strong apprehensions that efforts would be made, as
on former occasions, to make Ireland the stage of contest, by the use of
that influence which had ever been found effective for the purpose.
To meet such a danger, means were adopted of a most questionable
character, and resisted on the part of Usher and the Irish church, by
a protest no less questionable. To make the papists ready to contri-
bute to the maintenance of the additional forces which were thought
requisite for security against the apprehended danger, it was proposed
to grant several privileges which would amount to a toleration of their
church. But whatever may be said for a liberal toleration on just
grounds, it must be admitted, that the grounds assumed were neither
just nor politic. If the papists were entitled to the questioned privi-
leges, they should have them without compromise ; if not, no political
expediency could justify a compromise, such as was designed. We are
clearly of opinion, that considering the peculiar political machinery of
the papal power in that age, with its power and the real intent of all
its workings, the toleration desired was inconsistent with sound policy :
but we are as decided in opposition to any constraint or disability of
a political nature, on the score of spiritual demerits. For this reason
we cannot concur in approving the protest, entitled, " The judgment
of divers of the archbishops and bishops of Ireland, concerning Tolera-
tion of Religion," which Usher drew up on this occasion, and which
was signed by himself and other prelates. Nevertheless the Irish govern-
ment found itself forced to recall the offer, and lord Falkland applied
to Usher to endeavour to persuade the protestant community to remedy
the deficiency of means by a liberal contribution. Usher for this end
addressed an assembly summoned for the purpose. The effect was not,
however, considerable, though of the speech which he delivered on that
occasion, it has been admitted, that it merited the success which it could
not command. — Among the good deeds of the primate may be reckoned
the discovery and promotion of a man like Bedell, whom he brought
over, with much persuasion, this year, from his living in Suffolk, to place
him at the head of the university.

Usher's promotion enabled him now to prosecute his favourite
pursuit of ancient literature ; for which purpose he employed a British
merchant, resident at Aleppo, to procure for him oriental writings,
and by this means he obtained several rare and curious additions to
his library. Some of the manuscripts thus imported were of the highest
importance to biblical literature. Among these was a copy of the
Samaritan Pentateuch, the first which had been brought into Europe,
and a perfect copy of the Old Testament in the Syriac. Nor was
Usher remiss in the liberal application of these treasures, which were
open to the use of those who were engaged in sacred literature. They
were placed at the disposal of bishop Walton, when he was engaged
in the compilation of his Polyglott, and are now (many of them) in the
Bodleian library.

The influx of foreign ecclesiastics was at this time increasing, and
though yet not made publicly known by any express indication, the

rising which in a few years after was to take place, was distinctly
contemplated by the Irish at home, and its preparations kept at least
in view, in Spain and Italy, but more especially in the former. To
whatever construction it may have been liable, the conduct of the
Romish clergy was not considered as matter of doubt by Usher, or
generally unnoticed by the more intelligent observers. In conse-
quence of the representations of the primate, and those of the Irish
bishops who joined with him in the protest already mentioned, a
proclamation was sent over, in which the actual state of the circum-
stances is expressed very precisely.* A letter from lord Falkland to
the primate states the circumstances attendant on this proclamation : —
" A drunken soldier being first set up to read it, and then a drunken
sergeant of the town, both being made, by too much drink, incapable
of that task, (and perhaps purposely put to it,) made the same seem
like a May-game." So confident were the friars and their partisans
in the remissness of the government, that such verbal denunciations
were only met with open expressions of contempt. They exercised
their jurisdiction with unabated force, and " not only proceeded in
building abbeys and monasteries, but had the confidence to erect a
university in Dublin, in the face of the government, which, it seems,
thought itself limited in this matter by instructions from England."
At the same time, this daring resistance to the law on the part of the
papal church was not less prominent than the union of inefficiency and
neglect in the protestant establishment. The miserable dilapidation
and disorderly abuse of the churches is almost beyond belief, yet amply
proved and illustrated by the known condition of the cathedrals and
principal churches in the metropolis. The utmost laxity prevailed in
the disposal of the benefices, and in the ordination of the clergy. Of
these we cannot here afford sufficient space for the particulars,! some
of which may recur in some of the succeeding memoirs.

Among other incidents of the same period, connected with the
archbishop, was the final decision of the old dispute for precedence
between the sees of Dublin and Armagh. The settlement of this ques-
tion, which had been at various times agitated, was now considered an
essential preliminary to the meeting of convocation. The matter lay in
suspense until 1634, when Strafford, who was not likely to suffer any
question relative to the Irish church to rest, took it up before the meet-
ing of parliament, and summoned Bulkeley and Usher before the council.
There he investigated their claims for two days, with the most searching
and rigorous minuteness, and a close inspection of every document or
allegation. His decision, which terminated for ever this important
question, was the following : — " That it appeared, from divers evidences,
that from all antiquity the see of Armagh had been acknowledged the
prime see of the whole kingdom, and the archbishop thereof reputed, not
a provincial primate, like the other three metropolitans, but a national ;
that is, the sole primate of Ireland, properly so called. That in the
reign of queen Elizabeth, the archbishop of Dublin did constantly sub-
scribe after the archbishop of Armagh. That in the statute for free
schools, in the 12th of Elizabeth, the archbishop of Armagh is nominated

* Cox. Mant. f See Mant's Hist. pp. 448 — 464.

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 521

before the archbishop of Dublin, as he is in that of the 27th of Eliza-
beth, where all the archbishops and bishops were ranked in their order,
as appeared by the parliamentary rolls. For which reasons he decreed,
that the archbishop of Armagh, and his successors for ever, should have
precedency, and be ranked before the archbishop of Dublin and his
successors, as well in parliament and convocation house, as in all other
meetings ; and in all commissions where they should be mentioned ;
and in all places, as well within the diocese or province of Dublin, as
elsewhere ; until upon better proof on the part of the archbishop of
Dublin, it should be adjudged otherwise."

Nearly forty years later, a similar controversy arose between the
titular archbishops of the same sees, and being referred to Rome, was
considered in a full meeting of the cardinals, and decided in favour of
Armagh, as " the chief see and metropolis of the whole island."

In the year 1639, the primate published his celebrated treatise on
the antiquities of the British churches, in which he introduces an ac-
count of the " pestilent heresy against the grace of God, introduced
into the church by the Briton, Pelagius." This work was composed in
Latin, printed in Dublin, "Ex officina Typographica Societatis Biblio-
polarum," &c, and dedicated to king Charles. It treats on many points
on which no certainty can be attained ; but when its matter is doubt-
ful, the obscurity is qualified by a modesty and sobriety of statement,
which seldom, if ever, fails to reduce it to its real value. Throughout
there is a clearness, justness of thought, and sagacity of perception, ex-
ercised on a wide range of curious and far-sought material, so as to
inspire a confidence that the primate's investigations approach as near to
truth as their nature and materials aduiit of. His work has accordingly
been the basis of succeeding labours, on which we shall here decline any
comment. Those writers who are to be regarded as his adversaries have
seen ample reason to treat him with deference. Having had to consult
some of these writers for the purpose of this history, we have been led
to observe, that while with much speciousness, and not without some
array of authorities, they have questioned some of his statements respect-
ing the early history of the Irish church, they almost uniformly present
a marked deficiency in those qualifications of scope and sagacity by
which he was so admirably fitted for such inquiries. There is a work-
ing of uniform principles, and there is a broad analogy in the course of
human occurrences, which offer the safest guidance in the dim distances
of antiquity ; but to catch these lights upon the wide and glimmering
obscurity of time, needs an eye endowed with length of vision and
capaciousness of light. There is one general fact of great importance,
with relation to the numerous questions which present themselves in the
perusal of those ecclesiastical writers who have gone over Usher's ground.
His statements, and the inferences at which he arrives, whether in the
special instance rigidly correct or not, are yet uniformly maintained by
that antecedent probability which arises out of the nature of things, and
the general history of the times. To this general rule we would especi-
ally refer all the questions which arise on the primitive Christianity and
first bishops of the Irish church.

We must now enter upon a different aspect of the primate's for-
tunes. Hitherto we have seen him advancing in a uniform course of

prosperity, and holding' the position of dignity and public respect due
to his learning, genius, and worth. We may now complete our notice
of his history, so far as it belongs to Ireland, by the few scanty glean-
ings which we have been able to find of personal interest, relative to
his residence and domestic habits in the see of Armagh. From his
chaplain, Dr Bernard, we learn, that " the order observed in his family
as to prayer, was four times a-day ; in the morning at six, in the even-
ing at eight, and before dinner and supper in the chapel, at each of
which he was always present. On Friday, in the afternoon, constant-
ly, an hour in the chapel was spent in going through the principles of
religion in the catechism, for the instruction of the family; and every
Sunday, in the evening, we had a repetition of his sermon in the
chapel, which he had preached in the church in the forenoon. In the
winter evenings, he constantly spent two hours in company of old ma-
nuscripts of the Bible, Greek and Latin, when about five or six of us
assisted him, and the various readings of each were taken down by
himself with his own hand." To this we may add, that he was " given
to hospitality," and that his guests, both friends and strangers, were
uniformly impressed with his frank and courteous demeanour, and the
frank and ready communication of his overflowing knowledge. His
table was such as became his means and dignity, but still marked by
the plainness and simplicity of his character, and the sobriety becom-
ing his office.

When in town, he was in the habit of preaching in St Owen's
church every Sunday.

Though as a public man and a writer he may be considered as the
great antagonist of the church of Rome, his private conduct to its
adherents was uniformly characterized by his benignity of temper and
his truly christian spirit. His opposition was untainted by a spot of
party or sectarian feeling: his sole desire was the salvation of souls
and the truth of the gospel. He left no honourable means untried to
conciliate and convince them; by private kindness he won many
to receive his instruction : and notwithstanding his known character
as an opponent, he was loved and respected by those who were within
the circle of his personal influence. The primate knew the distinc-
tion, so apt to be lost sight of, between charity to persons and com-
promise with public bodies.

In the beginning of the year 1640, he was called to England, and
never returned to his native country. A long succession of stormy
changes, which had for many years been preparing in both kingdoms,
at last broke forth in a prolonged and awful confusion of the order of
things. The events preceding the rebellion of 1641 have already been
fully detailed: we must now follow the primate into England.

The events connected with the entire of this stormy period are
among the most generally known portions of English history; and as
our immediate subject cannot be considered as much involved in those
events, we shall, through the remainder of this memoir, endeavour to
confine our narration to the few incidents of his personal history.

On his arrival in England, the primate first travelled with his
family to London, from which, after a few days' delay, he went to
Oxford. Everywhere he found political and religious animosities

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 523

possessing men's minds, and having hoped for peace at the university
in vain, he soon returned to London, in the resolution to discharge
his own duty, by endeavouring to bring back the people to some sense
of their duties, by the bold and free exercise of his tongue and pen.

The impeachment of the earl of Strafford followed soon. In Ire-
land, the earl had looked on Usher with a jealous eye, as one not well-
affected to his policy. But he had judged with his wonted wisdom
of the primate, and now showed his reliance upon his ability and judg-
ment, by consulting him confidentially on the line and topics of defence
which he was preparing. The primate was also consulted on the
same occasion by king Charles, and urgently pressed his majesty to
refuse his consent to the bill of attainder. On this occasion it is
mentioned, that when the king sent for the primate, it was Sunday,
and he was found preaching in Covent- Garden church. He came
down from the pulpit to learn the emergency which could authorize
so untimely a call, and when he received the royal message, he replied,
" He was then employed upon God's business, which as soon as he had
done, he would attend upon his majesty." Having strong-ly urged the
king to refuse his consent, he, after it was weakly given, remonstrated
with tears, " O Sire, what have you done? I fear that this act may
prove a great trouble upon your conscience; and pray God that your
majesty may never suffer for signing this bill."

When Strafford was doomed by an unjust sentence, he selected the
primate as his spiritual counsellor, and considering all things, it is
impossible to find a higher testimony to exalted worth and spiritual
efficiency. The primate was assiduous in his attendance, and passed
the last evening in fortifying the illustrious sufferer in faith and
courage. Next morning he attended him to that portentous block,
and kneeled in prayer with him on that scaffold which was to be
then moistened with the first drops of much English blood. He then
received the earl's courageous and affecting last words, and having
witnessed his death, carried the account to Charles.

In this year Usher was occupied with bishop Hall in the celebrated
controversy on Church Government, in which the opposition was sus-
tained by Milton, then in his 31st year, together with five puritan
divines, Stephen Marshal, Edmund Calamy, Thomas Young, Matthew
Newcomen, and William Spurstow; the finals and initials, of which
names were combined into the word Smectymnus, in the title of the
joint answer which they wrote to Hall's "humble remonstrance." The
"answer by Smectymnus" was replied to by Usher, whose reply
called out Milton's treatise " of Prelatical Episcopacy." This contro-
versy was carried on in a succession of defences, confutations, and
animadversions, which excited a keen and lively interest in a period
of which they discussed some of the great actuating principles.
The reader is fully informed on the political interest of this great
controversy: there is not here any sufficient motive for entering
upon the long narrations and various disquisitions into which it
would lead us. But it was then the main ground on which was
brought together soon after into a resistless combination, all the
popular elements of wrath and ruin, which overwhelmed for a sea-
son the constitution and church of England. One of Milton's

524 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

biographers has given his voice in favour of Hall's wit, and Usher's
argument, against the copious eloquence and angry abuse of Milton
and his colleagues. " If the church," writes Dr Symmons, " indeed,
at this time, could have been upheld by the abilities of its sons, it
would have been supported by these admirable prelates; but numbers,
exasperation, and enthusiasm, were against them:'' he also remarks,
" the tone of this debate was far from mild, and all the combatants,
with the exception of Usher, seem to have been careless of manners,
and not less intent on giving pain to their adversaries, than on the dis-
covery or the establishment of truth."

Towards the close of the year, the Irish rebellion broke out, and
the primate received accounts of the destruction of his property. He
was in a measure prepared for calamities, which had for many years
been present to his anticipations. A mind like his could not but be
heavily afflicted for the ruin of his country, the crimes and perfidy
of the people, the suffering of his friends, and most of all, the danger
of the church which he had so long been labouring to build up. Yet
there mingled with these regrets and sorrows, a sense of gratitude to
the hand that had so seasonably removed him from scenes of horror
and violence, which were so unsuited to his age and habits.

His library escaped by the firmness of Drogheda, which as the
reader is aware, held out against the miscreant O'Neile, until relieved.
But except this and whatever furniture he possessed in his house in
that city, all his moveable property suffered destruction. The out-
rages which were perpetrated against the good Bedel, his dear
friend whom he had himself brought into Ireland, was a heavy blow
to his tenderest feelings: it showed him all that he had escaped
more strongly than the report of a thousand atrocities ; for Bedel was
loved by the very people who were deluded by their infamous and
brutal advisers into the commission of outrages against him, difficult
to conceive true. Nor is there, amid all the heartless villanies of
every description which are crowded together in the record of that
time, a record so hapless for Ireland in its after effects, or so dis-
honouring to its perpetrators, as the mixture of cowardly violence
and insult which brought that honoured head in sorrow to the grave.
But of this hereafter.

Under these trials, the primate, whose life had been one season of
prosperity and honour, now bore up with the meek and tempered
dignity which became a christian prelate of the church. As his learn-
ing and literary labours had obtained for him a reputation as wide as
the civilized world, his misfortunes soon attracted universal sympathy.
He was invited by the university of Leyden, to fill one of its professor-
ships, with an augmentation of the salary, in case of his acceding to
the offer. Cardinal Richlieu sent him an invitation to France, with
the offer of a pension and the free exercise of his religion. These
offers were honourable to those who made them; but it was perhaps a
higher honour to have declined them under the circumstances. Usher
might have availed himself of a refuge, which being a testimony to
distinguished worth, would have conferred high distinction; but he
preferred his duty and his religion. In that age too, when loyalty
was exalted by a prejudice into a virtue of a nobler order than can

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 525

now be well understood, and when it involved no lowering imputation
to regard the person of the king, rather than the constitution of the
monarchy, it may be no injustice to Usher to say, that his attach-
ment to the king, and his reverence for the royal cause, weighed
much in influencing his conduct. It is, indeed, quite apparent through
the entire of his conduct, that his own comfort and safety were but a
secondary consideration in his breast.

It was, nevertheless, apparent enough, that some means of support
were necessary to one, whose want, a disgrace to England, had
been supplied already by the sale of such effects as he had brought
with him, or which had been saved from the wreck of his affairs.
The king offered him the bishopric of Carlisle, which he gladly
accepted : it conferred at least a sphere of usefulness, and the exercise
of his sacred functions ; though inadequate as to its temporalities, as
the armies of the north were quartered upon it.

During the course of the calamitous struggles which succeeded, the
conduct and character of the divine or the scholar were of little
weight. The efforts of that felon parliament which overthrew the
monarchy were with equal success directed against the church of Eng-
land; but this is not tbe place to enter into details which have but an
incidental connexion with our subject. In the course of events, the
bishopric of Carlisle suffered the same seizure and sequestration as
every other church possession: the lands were seized, and the palace
dilapidated by parliamentary agents commissioned for the purpose.
The parliament voted a compensation of £400 a year for the support
of Usher; but only consistent in crime and madness, they forgot to
carry this ostentatious liberality into effect.

Wearied with the increasing tumult of fear and party strife,
which, daily increasing, left no scene unimbittered in London, the
primate retired to Oxford in 1642. Here, in a house with which he was
accommodated by the kindness of Prideaux, he enjoyed a grateful
interval of calm. This habitation was close to the Bodleian library,
and he was thus enabled to take up the thread of studies which afflic-
tion had broken, and to prepare several valuable papers for the press.
During this residence he had also the unspeakable satisfaction of find-
ing a useful field for his ministerial gifts. He preached every Sun-
day at some one of the churches, and his preaching was blessed with
great and unequivocal proofs of good effect. He not only was thus
the means of awakening many to a spiritual sense, but, in a great mea-
sure, of correcting by his example the vicious style of pulpit oratory,
then becoming fashionable in England. His fervent and unaffected
manner, the strong simplicity of his natural eloquence, supported by
the fulness of his knowledge, and the apostolical sincerity of his faith
and charity, had both the effect of winning souls, and by a striking
contrast exposing the fustian exuberance of sparkling affectation and
tinsel metaphor, which till then passed for eloquence.

In the summer of 1643, the parliament, pursuing the course which
it had entered upon for the destruction of the monarchy, consistently
proceeded to revise and new-model the church. During this period,
Usher preached with great eloquence and effect against the proceedings
of the parliament ; and at last they became so incensed, that an order

526 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

for the seizure of his books, which had been deposited in Chelsea, was
made and executed. This act of petty malignity was defeated by Dr.
Featly, who had at the moment some influence, and secured the books
for the primate by purchasing them as for himself. This worthy divine
was soon after discovered to be a correspondent of Usher's, and expelled
from their assembly for " adhering to the enemy." His livings were
sequestrated, his property seized, and he himself imprisoned and treated
with a severity which soon put an end to his life.

His residence at Oxford was now employed in a work for the main-
tenance of episcopacy, and his studies were assisted by Dr. Hammond.
He produced a treatise, in which he showed that the bishop of Ephesus
exercised a jurisdiction similar to that of an archbishop in the English
church.

It is among those circumstances, which in the highest degree should
be remembered to the honour of the primate, that while in just and
forcible terms he reprehended the foul crimes which were then in their
progress, he no less lirmly exposed the scandalous amusements of the
court party. He delicately but forcibly, impressed the truth that
while the crimes of their enemies appeared to them in all their true
enormity, they forgot to look to their own sins, and overlooked the
awful fact, that evil instruments were sometimes used to execute the
judgments of God. And, indeed, the hypocrisy of those plundering and
murderous fanatics might well be balanced in wickedness, by the pro-
fane and licentious cavalier, whose conduct, though less revolting to
the feelings of humanity, or the laws of society, were at least as far
from grace. Among the fanatics, it would be unjust to affirm that
numbers were not sincere, humble, and pious Christians ; crowds were
the slaves of a misdirected enthusiasm, and followed their leaders in the
simplicity of their faith : but the unhappy conjunction of religion with
rebellion of the blackest dye, had the most demoralising influence for
many years, not only on their opponents, but on the moral and spiritual
state of England.

In the beginning of 1645, the siege of Oxford was expected ; and
as the primate was become an object of inveterate hate to the parlia-
mentarians, it was generally thought advisable that he should betake
himself to some more secure retreat. Accordingly he determined to
take refuge in Cardiff Castle, which was then commanded by his son-
in-law, Sir T. Tyrrel. He left Oxford with the prince of Wales, with
whose escort he proceeded to Bristol, and from thence he safely reached
his destination, where he was joyfully received by his daughter and
son-in-law. Having taken care to bring a good collection of books
with him, he was here enabled for a year to pursue his studious labours
in happy and contented retirement, and composed a considerable part
of his annals.

During this sojourn, his studies were for a time partially inter-
rupted by a visit from the king, who, after he had left the unfortunate
field of Naseby, fought on June 14, 164a, proceeded to Ragland castle,
the princely seat of the marquess of Worcester, from which, after a
few days of painful indecision, he retired to Cardiff. Here, in the sad
conviction of ruin, expressed in his reply to the sanguine suggestions
of the fiery Rupert, but still throwing his dependence on God and

the justice of his cause,* Charles found, in the conversation of the
primate, a consolation suited to such a frame of mind. It is likely, that
like the devoted monarch, to whose breast he then endeavoured to
supply the balm and strength which, when human counsels fail, are to
be derived from trust in divine wisdom, Usher indulged in hopes
founded on the same reliance.

The primate deeply felt the present condition of the king's pros-
pects, and bitterly lamented the overthrow of the church ; and when
the king left the castle, he expressed his feelings strongly to Dr Parr.
But he was shortly after himself compelled to abandon a retreat which
had in many respects been so grateful to his feelings. The king's dimin-
ishing resources required the concentration of the wrecks of his army;
and the outlying garrisons were many of them in consequence drawn
away from their posts. Among such cases was Cardiff: the place was
abandoned, and the primate was for some time perplexed whither to
turn for refuge. Oxford was the desire of his heart; but between him
and Oxford there lay a country possessed by the rebels. He had re-
ceived several kind and flattering invitations from France and Hol-
land, and was balancing them in his mind, when he received an invi-
tation from the dowager, lady Stradling, to her castle of St Donat.

The invitation was seasonable ; but it was known that the Welsh
had risen in large bodies, estimated to be not less than ten thousand,
and occupied the country through which the primate was to pass.
Still, among the various defiles of the mountainous districts which lay
around, it might be perhaps possible to find some unfrequented way,
so as to pass without any interruption from the insurgents: such a
path was suggested, and the inhabitants about Cardiff collected toge-
ther to escort the primate on his way. Unhappily, they did not go far
before they fell upon a straggling party, who, having surrounded and
seized them, first perhaps with the intention of plunder, but finding
the quality of their prisoners, they carried them to the place where the
main body lay: there the primate and his party were dragged from their
horses, and his baggage and effects were opened, scattered, and rifled
of whatever appeared to these lawless insurgents to have any value.
The most valuable remains of property, in his possession, consisted of
those books which had hitherto been saved to him through every trou-
ble: the chests which contained them were on this occasion broken
open, and the books, with numerous manuscripts of inestimable value,
scattered through the crowd. It is hard to say to what extremity
this outrage might have been carried, — a crowd gathers exaspera-
tion from its own actions ; and when the work of cupidity was done,
the primate and the party who accompanied him, consisting of lady
Tyrrel and other ladies, offered incentives enough for all the brutal
passions of a mob. But happily, the arrival of several of the officers
put a stop to further indignities. These were all gentlemen of the
country, and were shocked and indignant at the scene of brutal out-
rage which presented itself. They instantly threw themselves among
the people, enforced order, and compelled the instant restitution ol
oil the property that could be recovered; and having remounted the

* Clarendon.

528 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

party on their horses, they escorted them with great courtesy and
respect to the mansion of Sir John Aubrey. Here they met with the
most hospitable reception. On retiring to his chamber, the primate
naturally hastened to examine the state of his most valuable manu-
scripts, and was mortified and grieved to find that many were missing
These he mentioned as the heaviest and most distressing of all the
heavy losses he had till then sustained. " I never," writes Parr, " saw
him so troubled in my life; and those that were with him before my-
self, said that he seemed not more sensibly concerned for all his losses
in Ireland than for this ; saying to his daughter, and those that endea-
voured to comfort him, ' I know that it is God's hand, and I must en-
deavour to bear it patiently, though I have too much human frailty
not to be extremely concerned ; for I am touched in a very tender
place, and He has thought fit to take from me all that I have been
gathering together above these twenty years, and which I intended to
publish for the advantage of learning and the good of the church.' ';
It demands but a slight effort of reflection to enter into the feelings
thus expressed; and, unless in some afflicting disaster, which strikes
the deepest affections of our nature, it would not be easy to devise so
trying a calamity. Pain and disease are trials which all are born to
sustain, and for which the wise and good are prepared; the loss of
fortune can be borne with equanimity by ordinary minds, and in pro-
portion to the sufferer's virtue and wisdom, takes little away, and for
a short time ; but he who labours to achieve great and perpetual ad-
ditions to the wisdom of his kind, and the improvement and extension
of human knowledge, has learned to identify his labours with great
and permanent ends. The years thus spent are not reckoned in his
thoughts as merely so much time wasted on the fleeting purposes of com-
mon life : they are measured by the durability and importance of their
fruits; and when, by some accident, these fruits are lost, the heart is
struck with the vastness and irrevocable nature of that loss; for the
trifler who wastes life in weaving the sands of human folly, and the
philosopher who builds for all future time, have alike but a few measur-
ed moments of eternity for all that is to be done on earth, and he who
would effect much, soon learns to look with tremulous anxiety on the
swift and uncertain succession of his years. We are aware that beyond
these feelings of the studious mind, there expands a wider and more
profound system of truth: but it is beyond our present scope; we speak
but of a sentiment — the error, perhaps the disease, of the philosopher.
A loss like that under which Usher's christian spirit bent but for a
moment, was the annihilation of a large portion of that for which he
had lived : the pile which twenty years had raised for remote posterity
was suddenly struck down, and all earthly losses seemed light in com-
parison.

But this heavy blow, at least, was averted, from the decline of his
honourable age. The most respectable inhabitants of the country
crowded the next day to pay their respects, and on hearing of these
losses, they promised their most active co-operation for the purpose of
recovering the primate's manuscripts. A large party was soon assem-
bled, by whom he was conducted to his destination at the castle of St
Donat. The gentry of the country, and especially the clergy, were

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 529

not remiss in the performance of their promise: the manuscripts, so
valuable to their owner, had fallen into the hands of persons to whom
they were of no value, and were thus easily recovered. Notices were
publicly read and posted at the churches, that any who possessed them
should deliver them up to the clergy or to their landlords; and thus,
before two months, they were nearly all recovered, and restored to
their owner.

Sir Edward Stradling was himself a studious and learned antiqua-
rian, and had been industrious in the collection of rare books and cu-
rious manuscripts. Here therefore the primate was enabled, to pur-
sue his studies with advantage, and discovered some new and valu-
able materials. His studies were, however, after a time, interrupted
by a violent and dangerous haemorrhage, which continued for eight-
een weeks, so that for a time his life was despaired of. But in the
suffering and danger of this illness, it is mentioned by his chaplain
that he was still patient, " praising God, and resigning himself up to
his will, and giving all those about him, or that came to visit him,
excellent heavenly advice, to a holy life and due preparation for
death." While thus calmly awaiting the death which he imagined to
be near, he was visited by a gentleman related to the family of St
Donat, who was a member of the rebel parliament. He addressed him
thus : — " Sir, you see I am very weak, and cannot expect to have many
hours; you are returning to the parliament, I am going to God; I
charge you to tell them from me, that I know they are in the wrong,
and have dealt very injuriously with the king."

The parliament was destined to proceed in its career of madness
and guilt to far more fearful lengths : but the primate happily reco-
vered. It quickly became apparent that England was likely soon to
contain no refuge for learning, loyalty, or sanctity. The arena of
civil war was clearing on every side, and it was suggested to Usher
to seek refuge in some of those foreign universities from which he had
often received pressing invitations. A vessel was soon found; but
when all was ready for embarkation, a squadron of rebel ships, com-
manded by a parliamentary leader, came in sight, and approached so
near as to render any further proceeding impossible, without the per-
mission of the commander. Accordingly, Parr was sent to this per-
son, and received a rude and contumelious answer, refusing to let the
primate pass, and threatening that if he should fall into this ruffian's
hands, he would carry him prisoner to the parliament.

Thus baffled in his purpose, the primate was for some time longer
detained at St Donat's, but in considerable doubt as to his future pro-
ceedings. At last he received a very warm invitation from lady Peter-
borough, expressive of her continued gratitude for the great service she
had formerly received from him, when his controversy with the Jesuit
had been the means of converting her late lord — for she was now a
widow. He accepted the kind invitation, and left St Donat's, where
he had continued for nearly a year. It is mentioned, that on this
occasion large sums of money were privately sent to him by several of
the gentry in that part of the country, to meet the expenses of his
journey. Nor were these acts of private, unostentatious, and disinte-
rested bounty, superfluous : the primate was, at the time, absolutely

II- 2 L Ir.

530 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

destitute of all pecuniary resources. It is surely gratifying to read of
deeds so honourable to human nature, and affording so admirable a
testimony to the resplendent worth and sanctity of the character, which
seems to have awakened and called forth such active and universal be-
nevolence. Nor is the occasion less illustrative of the providential
protection so often to be recognised amid the trials of good and holy
men, whose care is ever cast on that power by which the righteous is
never forsaken.

The primate set out with an anxious mind on his dangerous jour-
ney, and arrived without interruption in London, in the month of
June, 1646, at the house of the countess of Peterborough. London was
at this time completely in the power of the rebels, but with this main
difference from the condition of remoter places, that here, whatever there
was of learned or noble in the parliamentary party, exercised a restrain-
ing influence. The violence of rebellion is always, in some degree,
sure to be tempered by those just and true principles which must be
recognised to reconcile the better portion of a party to their own con-
duct, and as this rebellion was unusually strengthened by a mixture of
such principles, it was largely tempered by the admixture of good and
able men, who had been either carried away by political theory, or by
their opposition to the abuses of the prerogative, and who still enter-
tained the hope of first reforming, and then restoring, the disjointed
powers of the constitution. In the metropolis, too, the frame of society
still held together, though much and rudely shaken, and among the
many institutions and corporate bodies, which were still indispensable
to order, many persons were allowed to live in quiet at the price of a
respectful silence. Here, therefore, the despotism of popular power
was broken by forms and restraints, and a respect for opinion enforced
more moderate and more humane proceedings towards those who took
care to afford no specious handle for outrage. In such a place, the
venerable years and high reputation of the primate were comparatively
safe: yet such indignity as circumstances permitted was not withheld.
The parliament had issued an order, that persons coming from any of
the king's garrisons to town, should appear and give notice of their
arrival to a committee, which sat for the purpose. To comply with
this mandate, the primate sent his chaplain, Dr Parr, to acquaint the
committee of his arrival and place of residence. The committee, how-
ever, refused to receive the intimation, and insisted on the personal
appearance of the archbishop. On a summons he appeared in person,
and underwent a strict and curious questioning as to his sojourn and
occupation during his absence from London, and whether he had been
using any influence with the king in favour of the papists. They then
tendered an oath, which had been recently framed for suspected
loyalists, but he demanded time to consider it, and withdrew. As he
had several friends in the house, there was speedily an interposition of
friendly influence, which protected him from further annoyance on
this, or any other trouble from the same quarter. Immediately after,
he removed with the countess to her residence at Reigate, in Surrey.

In the following year, leave was, with some difficulty, obtained for
the primate to preach in London, and he was elected preacher to the
honourable society of Lincoln's Inn, who appointed him a handsome

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 531

and commodious suite of apartments, to which he removed the re-
mains of his library. He there attended and preached every Sunday,
for the following six years, to the Benchers, among whom, at the time,
was Mr Hale, afterwards one of the most illustrious ornaments of the
king's bench in England. The primate's condition now became one of
of comparative ease: though deprived of the extrinsic advantages of
wealth, station, and authority, — though an exile from his country, and
deprived of the presence of the connexions and friends of his life, — yet
he was still cherished by the reverent respect of all that remained of
wisdom and goodness in these disjointed times; and even in the helpless-
ness of poverty and old age, like a venerable ruin, he was hedged round
by the respect even of the enemies of his church. A letter which he at
this time wrote to the learned Vossius, gives an affecting sketch of the
sufferings of the last few years. Adverting to the Irish insurrection,
he writes : — " Thereby, in addition to the public losses, and the most
barbarous and savage massacre of protestants that ever was perpetrat-
ed, I am myself despoiled of all those external possessions which we
commonly denominate goods. My library alone was snatched from
the flames ; but even that is not yet in my possession ; for I again met
with tumults and excesses in England, which drove me from Oxford
into Wales, where I suffered under a distressing disease for full
eighteen weeks, and was at length saved, as it were, from the very
jaws of the tomb, by the great mercy of God. I am unwilling to say
anything about my reception on my return to London; nor would 1
have recalled to memory those other sad occurrences, were it not with
a view to show you how I have been withheld from literary pursuits,
and communication with men of letters."

In September, 1648, the presbyterian party, who constituted a ma-
jority in the house of commons, were desirous to secure their apparent
preponderance, by a treaty, with the king, then confined in Carisbrook
castle. Although there seems to have been little intention of discuss-
ing, on terms of equality, the questions of difference there to be pro-
posed, they ordered that a certain number of the clergy of the epis-
copal church should be admitted, for the purpose of informing his con-
science on ecclesiastical affairs; and of those who were summoned on
the occasion, primate Usher was one. At this time the king had
been a prisoner since the beginning of the previous year, and
his friends were much shocked at the change which grief, bodily
fatigue, and severe mental exertion, had made in his appearance.
Within a year he had become quite gray ; but his spirit, unbroken by
trial, had collected vigour and firm endurance ; and it is mentioned by
Hume, and other historians, that on this occasion he astonished the
commissioners by the surprising skill, readiness, extent of knowledge,
and command of all the resources of reason, through a controversy in
which he was for two months compelled to maintain his own side
singly against all the commissioners. Yet on that occasion, there was
perhaps a deeper anxiety to bring matters to a conclusion among his
antagonists, and their position was more affected by a sense of present
emergency. The king must have become aware of the unsubstantial
value of any conclusion to which he might come with them : they were
but a section of his enemies; one of the two great parties leagued

532 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

in rebellion against the crown, but deeply opposed to each other;
and the struggle between them and their antagonists was at this
time approaching a crisis so imminent, that it was a matter of
deep interest to bring the conference to a speedy termination. The
presbyterians had set this conference on foot, for the purpose of
strengthening themselves against the independents. The former
possessed the majority in parliament ; the latter possessed the army ;
and it was while Cromwell, the great leader of the independents, was
pushing forward, and endeavouring to conclude the war in the north,
that the presbyterian party obtained the vote by which this conference
was appointed. It is now easy to see how little more than a little ad-
ditional bloodshed could have resulted from any concession on the
king's part. Had he tamely resigned all for which he had so long
held out, on the grounds of conscience, the time was past when those
who really directed the storm would have closed with any terms short
of their own secret views of personal ambition. When the work of
such men is to be done by force, it is easy to find just reasons to satisfy
the crowd; and, indeed, it should be observed, that the demands of
the presbyterians, on the score of religion, were far from commensurate
with the latitude claimed by the preaching and canting soldiers of
Cromwell, who, having overthrown episcopacy, would have called out
for the overthrow of presbytery with equal fury. The king went far
in concession, but not enough to content his opponents ; but Usher is
mentioned to have proposed the concessions of the king, and suggested
a compromise on a different basis. His main proposal was, to retain
the bishops, and render them subservient to the counsel of the clergy ;
but this was insufficient. It was thought generally by the opposite
party, that the king would have yielded to the apparent emergency of
his situation, and given up all to the commissioners, but for the pre-
sence and counsel of Usher; and the primate thus, and by a sermon
preached during the conference before the king, drew upon himself
much censure and violent enmity.

Having taken leave of the king, Usher proceeded on his return to
London. At Southampton, he received an application from the
inhabitants to preach, but was not allowed by the parliamentary magis-
trates to comply. Not long after, he was accidentally among the
spectators of the king's last earthly pains. The incident is told with
much affecting and graphic truth, by Parr. " The lady Peterborough's
house, where my lord then lived, being just over against Charing -
cross, divers of the countess's gentlemen and servants got upon the
leads of the house, from whence they could see plainly what was act-
ing before Whitehall. As soon as his majesty came upon the scaffold,
some of the household came and told my lord primate of it, and asked
if he would see the king once more before he was put to death. My
lord was at first unwilling ; but was at last persuaded to go up, as well
out of his desire to see his majesty once again, as also curiosity, since
he could scarce believe what they told him unless he saw it. When
he came upon the leads, the king was in his speech : the lord primate
Etood still, and said nothing, but sighed; and lifting up his hands and
eyes (full of tears) towards heaven, seemed to pray earnestly; but
when his majesty had done speaking, and pulled off his cloak and

JAMES USHER, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 533

doublet, and stood stripped in his waistcoat, and that the villains in
vizors began to put up his hair, the good bishop, no longer able to
endure so dismal a sight, and being full of grief and horror for that
most wicked fact now ready to be executed, grew pale, and began to
faint; so that if he had not been observed by his own servant and
some others that stood near him, who thereupon supported him, he
had swooned away; so they presently carried him down, and laid him
on his bed, where he used those powerful weapons which God has left
his people in such afflictions, viz., prayers and tears; tears that so
horrid a sin should be committed, and prayers that God would give
his prince patience and constancy to undergo those cruel sufferings."

During this interval, the primate was mainly engaged in his great
work on chronology, which, together with his duty as preacher to
Lincoln's Inn, occupied his days, and in some measure diverted his
mind from the calamities of the time. These labours were, it is true,
in some measure made heavier by the increasing infirmities of his ad-
vanced age ; among which the most distressing was, the rapid decay
of his sight, so that he could only write in strong light, and was mostly
compelled to follow the sunshine from room to room. He found solace
also in the correspondence of many of the worthiest and most learned
men of his day, and though firmly attached to his principles, was yet
restrained by no uncharitable prejudice from free and kind intercourse
with the good and wise of every communion. Among his friends was
the celebrated Richard Baxter, who wrote the most popular and
useful of his numerous writings at the suggestion of the primate,
leaving indeed thus a valuable testimony to the critical sagacity of his
adviser. With Hall, Hammond, and other eminent ecclesiastics, whose
names are honourably associated in those days of tribulation ; as also
with Causabon, Vossius, and other celebrated scholars, he kept up a
friendly intercourse to the last.

In the family of the countess of Peterborough, whose name is rendered
venerable and illustrious by her pious and affectionate care of his
last declining years, the primate was attentive to the spiritual welfare
of the household, and took a uniform part in their devotions. He was
earnest in impressing the necessity of spiritual meditation and private
prayer, without which public worship is but a form ; and his counsel
was maintained and enforced by the consistent tenor of his conduct.
As the perceptible progress of decline appeared to bring more near the
mysterious barrier at which the cares and trappings of mortality are
put off, his spirit was more exclusively and more strongly upheld by
faith in the only refuge which can rationally avail against the terrors
of that awful approach. When Cromwell found his own power estab-
lished and firm against the warring crosswinds of creed and faction,
he seems for a time to have entertained the idea of relaxing the per-
secution against the ministers of the church: and it was by many
thought to be indicative of good, when in 1654 he invited the primate
to visit him. This invitation may, however, with more likelihood be
attributed to the increased intercourse with respectable men of every
class, which followed his elevation. The primate hesitated; but in
addition to the hope of good, he must have felt the contrary result
which might follow on a refusal, which could not but carry with it

534 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

some portion of contempt. He therefore very reluctantly made up
his mind to pay the expected visit.

He was received by Cromwell with the respect and courtesy due to
his character, and was consulted on the best means for the general
advancement of the protestant religion both at home and abroad.
Such a conversation can easily be conceived to have passed with much
cordiality, and even unanimity of sentiment; it is probable it was con-
fined to the consideration of political means. But on a larger view,
it is plain enough that there were suggestions enough to be avoided
with some degree of tact and forbearance. The consideration of
Cromwell was more substantially shown; the allowance which the
parliament had made for the primate's subsistence, had been suspended
for some time ; but about this time it was renewed by the Protector's
order. He also promised him a lease for twenty-one years, of a part
of the lands in his diocese of Armagh: but the promise, when claimed
by Sir T. Tyrrel, was afterwards refused, on the suspicion of his being
infected with loyalty.

In 1655, Cromwell felt himself strong enough to cast aside even
the stern and captious connivance which he bad till then maintained
towards the church of England clergy ; and issued from his council a
declaration in which they were excluded even from the private exer-
cise of their ministry. The blow was as deeply felt, and as cruel as
it was needless; for the ministry of these persecuted men was purely
spiritual, and in no way involving any political agency, further than
the general connexion then supposed to exist between episcopacy and
the monarchical constitution of England — but this indeed was perhaps
enough. The supposed influence of the primate pointed him out as
the fittest person to plead the cause of the suffering clergy : he under-
took the mission, and, in his first interviews with Cromwell, obtained a
promise that the clergy should not be molested, if they would abstain
from political interference. But when the primate again went to have
the promise confirmed in writing, he found Cromwell in the hands of
the surgeon, who was dressing a boil on his breast. He asked the
primate to sit down, saying that he would speak to him when dressed.
In the mean time, he pointed to the boil and said, " If this core were
out I should be quickly well." " I doubt the core lies deeper ; there is
a core at the heart which must be taken out, or else it will not be well,"
replied the primate. " Ah ! so there is indeed," said the lord Protector
with a sigh. After this characteristic colloquy, when the surgeon
departed, and the primate proposed his errand, Cromwell cut him
short with the statement that he had consulted with his council since
their last interview; and they had advised against granting liberty of
conscience to men whom he considered to be implacable enemies to
his government — and the matter ended. The primate felt deeply
wounded by the falsehood of the proceeding, and still more afflicted
for the sake of the persecuted men who had committed their cause to
him. He retired with a heavy heart, and shut himself up in his
chamber. To the friends who came to inquire of his success, he said,
" This false man hath broken his word with me, and refuses to perform
what he promised. Well, he will have little cause to glory in his

JAMES TJSHEK, PEIMATE OF IRELAND. 535

wickedness, for he will not continue long. The king will return:
though I shall not live to see it, you may."

Evelyn, in his diary, mentions some particulars of an interview
with the primate a little after the last mentioned incident: — it is
on many accounts worthy of being transcribed, " 1655, Aug. 21. I
went to Ryegate to visit Mrs Cary, at my lady Peterborough's, in an
ancient monastery, well in repaire, but the parke much defaced; the
house is nobly furnished. The cbimney-piece in the greate chamber,
carv'd in wood, was the property of Hen. VIII. ; and was taken from an
house of his in Blechinglee. At Ryegate was now ye archbishop of
Armagh, the learned James Usher, whom I went to visite. He re-
ceived me exceeding kindly. In discourse with him he told me how
greate the losse of time was to study much the Eastern languages;
that excepting Hebrew, there was little fruite to be gathered of ex-
ceeding labour; that besides some mathematical bookes, the Arabic
itselfe had little considerable; that the best text was ye Hebrew Bible;
that ye Septuagint was finish'd in 70 daies, but full of errors, about
which he was then writing; but St Hierom's was to be valued next
the Hebrew; and that the 70 translated the Pentateuch only, the rest
was finished by others ; that the Italians understood but little Greeke,
and Kircher was a mountebank ; that Mr Selden's best book was his
' Titles of Honour ;' that the church would be destroyed by sectaries,
<vho would in all likelihood bring in poperie. In conclusion, he
recommended me to the study of philologie above all human studies;
and so with his blessing I tooke my leave of this excellent person,
and returned to Wooton."

But the hour of rest was fast approaching: the measure of afflictions
and the cup of trial had long been full ; the career illustrious for good
deeds, and labours of love, was closing in its fulness, and a large
bequest of immortal works, monuments more durable than the results
of conquest, completed to guide and enlighten future times. And
seldom does a good man leave this scene of trial under circumstances
which can be dwelt on with more full complacency.

For the last two years of his life, he was obliged by the loss of his
teeth to desist from preaching, though he still continued to make
occasional efforts in the pulpit, at the entreaty of his admirers and
friends: and his preaching was eagerly followed to the last. One of
his latest efforts was, a funeral sermon for his friend the learned
Selden, who was buried in the temple.

After the afflicting result of his last mentioned communication with
Cromwell, he went to Ryegate, and entered on his usual studies, hav-
ing been for some time engaged in the endeavour to complete his
Annals. And here he spent the remaining few weeks of his life,
between the commencement of the year, and the 20th of March in
the year 1656. In this interval he was visited by Dr Parr, who
preached before bim, and records a few of the remarks made to him
after his discourse, by the primate. " I thank you for your sermon.
I am going out of this world, and I now desire according to your
text, to seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth at the
right hand of God; and to be with him in heaven, of which we can

536 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

have no doubt, if we can evidence to ourselves our conversion, true
faith and charity, and live in the exercise of those christian graces and
virtues, with perseverance; mortifying daily our inbred corruptions,
and renouncing all ungodliness and worldly lusts, &c."

On the 20th of March there appeared no cause for any present
apprehension in the primate's health; he rose as usual, and passed the
morning among his books and engaged in his wonted task. He laid
aside his labour to visit a sick lady, to whom he offered the encourage-
ments and consolations of the gospel, with more than even his wonted
flow of spiritual and heavenly-minded energy. And the day passed
away as usual; but at night his rest was broken by some pain, which
instead of passing off as was at first hoped, grew more violent towards
morning, and resisted every means employed to quiet it. He bore it
with the patience of a christian ; but it subdued his remaining strength,
and he soon felt an increase of exhaustion, from which he knew that
he could not expect to rally. On the first interval of ease, he called
for the chaplain of the family to assist his last devotions, and
after some time spent in earnest prayer, he solemnly addressed the
family who surrounded his bed, with those impressive truths which
belonged to the occasion. He concluded by thanking his kind friend
and benefactress for all her care and friendship which had smoothed
his path of trials and adversities so long. He then expressed a wish
to be left alone, to collect his mind for the change which he felt
approaching; and in this state met the end of his earthly pilgrim-
age, and entered upon the rest of his Lord.

The countess of Peterborough intended that the remains of her
venerable friend should have a place in her family vault at Ryegate.
Cromwell, whose judgment and good taste were seldom astray, in any
thing nearly concerning the honour and dignity of his government, sent
to countermand the preparation, and ordered that there should be a
public funeral. For this a distant day was fixed, and the proceeding-
arid ceremony appointed. On this no detail is required. On the 17th
of April, twenty-seven days from his death, he was brought from
Ryegate to St George's church in Southwark, where, according to
order, the procession was joined by his friends; from thence he was
borne to Somerset house, in the Strand, where at one o'clock, " those
of the ministry and others," met and accompanied the corpse to West-
minster abbey, when it was interred in the chapel. The funeral
sermon was preached by Dr Bernard, of Gray's inn, formerly his
chaplain, and afterwards one of his biographers. His text was in
1 Samuel xxv. 1. And Samuel died; and all Israel were gathered
together, and lamented him, and buried him. Great crowds attended,
and much respect was strongly displayed by the people.

At the close of a memoir, in which we have been led to transgress
the limits of our measured space, it must be unnecessary to dwell further
on the character of one whose mind is so amply delineated in all his
deeds. He was in person above the middle height, with a counte-
nance grave, dignified, and intelligent, but mild, combining in its ex-
pression the humanity of the scholar with the benevolence of the
christian. Nor was the engaging promise of his appearance belied
in his frank and kind conversation, which overflowed ever with tha

WILLIAM BEDELL. 537

wisdom of his intellect and the charity of his heart. Of that superi-
ority of knowledge, which placed him, facile princeps, at the head of
the eminent scholars of his day, his works remain to speak.

The history of his library, which was nearly the entire of bis pro-
perty, is not without its interest. It was his known intention to
bequeath it to the university of Dublin, the nurse of his genius. But
there were some strong reasons against the execution of his design,
and obstacles arose which had nearly deprived the kingdom altogether
of this venerable monument. The primate, considering the large
family of lady Tyrrel, to whom he had given no fortune, bequeathed
the books to her. A handsome price was offered for them by the
king of Denmark, and cardinal Mazarin was no less liberal. Crom-
well prohibited a sale so unfortunate for the honour of England, and it
was not long after purchased by the Irish army to be presented to the
university: here again Cromwell interposed, and the volumes were, by
his order, stored in some rooms of Dublin castle. After the restora-
tion, they were presented by the king to the university ; and yet form
a valuable portion of its library.

WILLIAM BEDELL.

OllN A.D. 1570. — DIED A.D. 1642.

amidst all the afflictions of the church, from the earliest ages to the
present day, she has still had faithful witnesses to preserve, uphold,
and disseminate the doctrines of Christ; and however different their
sphere, contrasted their position, or distant their time, they still bear
the same lineaments, are impelled or restrained by the same motives, and,
however differing in natural character, they still prove that they belong
to the same family, and are members of the one Head. William Bedell,
the subject of our present memoir, is one of those " burning and shining
lights," who for a lengthened season continued to do his Master's work
here upon earth, and then joined that "noble army of martyrs," who
have sealed and confirmed by their deaths all that their lives laboured
to establish. The crown of martyrdom was not won to him by the
fagot or the sword; but he watched and waited for it, and ultimately
attained it, through a protracted period of danger and suffering, during
which, it may be truly said, he " died daily ;" yet death seemed still
withheld, that he might, by his influence and example, strengthen and
sustain the suffering band by which he was surrounded. He was born
at Black-Notley, in Essex, 1570, and was descended from an ancient
and respectable family. He received a classical education, and was
sent to Emmanuel college, Cambridge, where he was highly respected
for his learning, piety, and matured powers of mind, so that his opi-
nion was often resorted to by his seniors in their disputes and contro-
versies. He early became impressed with the truths of the Christian
religion, and before he took upon himself the duties of a minister, he
practically performed them, going about with some young college
friends, in the neighbourhood of the university, where there were no
Christian teachers, instructing and awakening the people " who were
living without God in the world," and placing before them, in strong

538 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

colours, their awful position, and the glad tidings which he came to
publish amongst them, of which they were nearly as ignorant as the
more distant heathen.

After leaving the university, he removed to the town of Bury St
Edmunds, in Suffolk, where he first regularly engaged in the ministry.
" Not long after his settlement there," says one of his biographers,
"an incident occurred which showed that he neither courted prefer-
ment nor feared unmerited displeasure. At a meeting of the clergy
of the diocese of Norwich, the bishop made some proposition to which
Mr Bedell could not conscientiously assent. The rest of the clergy en-
tertained the like objections, but were unwilling to express their sen-
timents. Thinking, therefore, that the matters in question were too
important to be silently adopted, he ventured to address the bishop,
and stated his opinions with so much force of argument, and, at the
same time, calmness of temper, that some of the obnoxious measures
were withdrawn. When the meeting was over, the clergy gathered
round him, and applauded the steps which he had taken; but he only
assured them in reply, that he desired not the praises of men." He
continued at Bury for many years, and was a zealous and active min-
ister, endeavouring rather to awaken the conscience than excite the
feelings, and remarkable as a preacher for the clearness and simplicity
of his style, and the truth and force of his applications. He was at
length appointed chaplain to Sir Henry Wotton, the ambassador of
James at the court of Venice, having been selected as the fittest person
for a situation made responsible by the critical period of the interdict.
His friend and fellow-student, Mr Waddesworth, who occupied the
same chambers with him in college, and had also a benefice under the
bishop of Norwich, was, about the same period, unfortunately sent into
Spain, and was subsequently appointed to teach the Infanta English,
in the expectation of her becoming the future queen of Charles I.
From this period the two friends diverged into totally different paths ;
Waddesworth adopting the creed of the country into which he had
been transplanted, and ending his life in a monastery, while Bedell
rapidly progressed in Christian knowledge, zeal, and humility, and
gladly laid down his life in defence of the faith he professed. An in-
teresting correspondence took place between the two friends on this
subject, to which we cordially refer our curious readers, were it only to
show the spirit of Christian love and charity with which it was con-
ducted upon both sides.

On the occasion of Bedell's appointment, Sir Henry, writing to the
earl of Salisbury, says, " I have occasion, at the present, of begging
your lordship's passport and encouragement for one Mr Bedell, whom
I shall be very glad to have with me in the place of chaplain, because
I hear very singular commendation of his good gifts and discreet be-
haviour. It may therefore please your lcrdship, when he shall take
the boldness to present himself before you, to set forward also this
piece of God's service."

During his residence in this city, he formed a close intimacy and
enduring friendship with Fra Paolo Sarpi, better known by the appel-
lation of Father Paul, the official theologian, or divine of the senate,
and author of the celebrated history of the councils of Trent. With

WILLIAM BEDELL. 539

this eminent and excellent man he spent a large portion of his time,
in study and religious conversation, unrestrained by any of those no-
minal differences that might exist between them; for Father Paul was
zealously seeking for the truth, and prepared to receive it, through
whatever channel it might flow. They mutually assisted each other
in the study of their native languages, and frequently read together
the Greek New Testament, on the different doctrinal passages of
which Bedell always shed a new light, and explained them to the entire
satisfaction of his friend. He afterwards confessed, with much can-
dour, that "he had learned more of theology and practical religion
from Mr Bedell, than from any other person with whom he had con-
versed during his whole life." He was also greatly struck with the
English liturgy, which Bedell translated both into Italian and Latin,
and in conjunction with many of his friends, resolved to adopt it into
common use, in case their differences with the Pope (which were then
at their height) should end, as they hoped, in separating them from
his jurisdiction.

The origin of these differences is too well known to need discussion,
and are detailed with great accuracy in the works of Father Paulo
himself. We cannot, however, omit the argument made use of by
cardinal Baronius to the Pope, for the purpose of proving the divine
sanction that existed for his carrying death and destruction into the
refractory state which had resisted his interdict, and retained two
lawless friars in prison, the Pope having ordered their liberation. The
cardinal stated that there had been two distinct injunctions given to
St Peter, the first being, " Feed my sheep," but the second, " Arise
and kill;" and that, therefore, " since he had already executed the first
part of St Peter's duty, in feeding the JlocJc, by exhortations, admoni-
tions, and censures, without the desired effect, he had nothing left but
to arise and kill." The general ignorance of the Scriptures that pre-
vailed, made it unnecessary for him to allude to the two distinct occa-
sions on which these injunctions were given, as it is possible that the
mass of the people knew nothing either of the prayer of Cornelius or
the vision of Peter.

During Bedell's stay at Venice, the famous Ant. de Dominis, arch-
bishop of Spalata, came there, and formed an intimacy and friendship
with him, in the course of which he communicated to him the secret
of his having composed the ten books de Republica Ecclesiastic a, which
he afterwards printed at London. Bedell corrected for him many mis-
takes, both in tbe quotations in it, and their applications, which the
archbishop's ignorance of the Greek tongue made inevitable. The
brief history and melancholy fate of this prelate may be given in a few
words. On the termination of the differences some years after, be-
tween the Pope and Venice, he accompanied Bedell to England,
where he was received with every mark of respect and consideration.
The clergy, however, at last became offended and disgusted by his
overweening pretensions, and his vanity made him resent their sup-
posed derelictions. On the promotion of Pope Gregory IV., (his for-
mer schoolfellow,) he was led to believe that the Pope intended tc
give him a cardinal's hat, and to make great use of him in all affairs
of importance. Under the mixed motives that generally influence

!

540 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL. ■

mankind, he yielded to the urgency and representations of Gundamor,
the Spanish ambassador, hoping at once to become an instrument of
reformation to the Romish church, and to forward his own views of
personal aggrandizement. In an evil hour he returned to Rome, where
he was at first well received, but happening to remark that cardinal
Bellarmine, who wrote in opposition to him, had not refuted his argu-
ments, a complaint was made to the Pope that he held the same opi-
nions as formerly, and though he offered to refute those he before held,
he was seized, thrown into the inquisition, never brought to trial, but
privately poisoned a short time after, when his body was thrown out
of a window, and his goods confiscated to the Pope. But to return to
Bedell. About this period, a Jesuit, named Thomas Maria Carassa,
published a work which he dedicated to the then Pope, blasphemously
calling him PAVLO V. VICE DEO, Christiana Reipublica mo-
narchce invictissimo et Pontificia omnipotentia conservatori acerrimo,*
which so much shocked Bedell, that it probably recalled to his mind
some of the prophetic descriptions of the Man of Sin, and on retiring

5

to his study, and calculating the numerical letters of the title, PAVLO

5 5 1 100 KIO

V. VICE DEO, he found it contain, by a strange coincidence, the
number of the beast 666. He showed it to Sir Henry Wotton, to
Father Paul, and to the seven divines, who immediately laid hold upon
it, as if it had been by divine revelation from heaven, and acquainted
the prince and the senate with it. It was carried suddenly through
the city that this was Antichrist, and that they need not look for ano-
ther." It was also published and preached through their territories ;
but when it came to the ears of the Pope, he caused a proclamation to
be made, that Antichrist was born in Babylon, of the tribe of Dan,
and was coming with a great army to waste and destroy all opposers ;
he therefore ordered the princes of Christendom, their vassals and
tenants, to arm themselves speedily, and make ready for the coming
contest. The public mind was thus turned into another channel, and
before facts disproved the assertion, the excitement had subsided, and
the subject was forgotten.

Bedell resided for eight years in Venice, and the general estimation
in which he was held may be inferred from the manner in which he is
spoken of in a letter written by the eminent Diodati of Geneva, to
De Mornay. It curiously happened that Diodati was afterwards the
cause of his being noticed and promoted in England, where his unob-
trusive merits were for many years unknown, — so often does it happen
that a prophet has no honour in his own country. The letter is as
follows, and was written in 1608, when the principles of the reforma-
tion had widely spread, and were zealously embraced, both in the Ve-
netian states and the countries dependent on them. " There lately
passed through this place, a secretary of the English ambassador at
Venice, on his return from England to that city, from which he had
been absent about two months and a half. He described to me so par-
ticularly the state of affairs, that it seemed to me as if God declared to

* To Paul V., the vice-God, the most invincible monarch of the Christian com-
monwealth, and the most zealous asserter of papal omnipotence.

WILLIAM BEDELL. 541

me, by his mouth, what he declared in a vision to St Paul at Corinth, the
parallel between which city and Venice is very great. — Be not afraid,
but speak, and hold not thy peace; for I am with thee, and no man
shall set on thee to hurt thee, for I have much people in this city.*
This excellent person, who is grave and learned, spoke with much
confidence of his hopes of some individuals, and of his expectation of
most important general consequences : in sum, all is ready (to explode)
and it only requires to apply the match. ' Thus far,' said he to me,
' Venice is like a new world : it is the greatest consolation to find one's
self in companies and assemblies, at noblemen's houses, and to hear
them speak with so much piety and zeal of the truth of God, with
those good men, Father Paul, Fulgentio, and Bedell, the ambassador's
chaplain. The public sermons are as good as could be preached at
Geneva, and they are delivered with such earnestness, that crowds
flock to hear them; and it is necessary to go very early to be in time
to get a place. The inquisition is kept under by a senator, who is a
member of it, without whose suffrage nothing can be decided ; he is
always chosen from amongst the greatest adversaries of the Pope
The vehemence against the Pope and the court of Rome is greatef
than ever. The Jesuits are denounced from the pulpit, their doctrines
refuted and decried, and themselves mortally disliked. Many nobles
provide themselves with tutors of the reformed religion to instruct
their families ; three-fourths of the nobility are warmly attached to the
truth, and as these are gained over, so the rest are favourably inclined.
The city is full of German artisans, who are, for the most part, pro-
testants. My mind imagines the man of Macedonia exclaiming, ' Come
over and help us.,v\ This is the work of the Almighty.^ Fulgentio
was a divine of much eminence in Venice. When preaching on the
text, Have ye not read? (Mat. xii. 3,) he told the people, that if Christ
were now to ask the same question, all the answer they could give,
would be, No; for we are forbidden to do so. Bedell also mentions,
that on another occasion, when his text was the inquiry of Pilate,
What is truth? after condemning the practice of withholding the
scriptures from the people, Fulgentio told them, that as for himself,
he had, after a long search, found out what was truth, and holding out
a New Testament, he said that there it was, in his hand ; he then put it
in his pocket saying, ' but it is a prohibited book.' "

Bedell spent much of his time in the study of Hebrew, for which
purpose he secured the assistance of R. Leo, the chief Chacham of the
.Jewish synagogue in Venice. From him he learned the way of pro-
nunciation, and some other parts of Rabbinical knowledge, and in re-
turn, communicated to him the true understanding of many passages
in the Old Testament, with which that Rabbi expressed himself
often highly satisfied; and once in a solemn dispute, he pressed the
Rabbi with such clear proofs of Jesus Christ being the true Messias,
that he, with several of his brethren, had no other way to escape, but
oy saying that their Rabbins everywhere did expound those prophecies
otherwise, according to the traditions of their fathers.§ Through the

• Acts xviii. 9, 10. t Ibid. xvi. 9. • \ Memoirs of De Mornay.

§ Burnet.

542 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

exertions of Leo he obtained the manuscript copy of the New Testa-
ment, which he afterwards gave to Emmanuel College, and which cost
him its weight in silver.

When the period arrived for Mr Bedell's return to England, the
parting between him and Father Paul was very affecting. The latter
even thought of accompanying him there, but was prevented by the
interference of the senate. They exchanged various tokens of regard,
among which Father Paul gave Bedell a picture of himself, a Hebrew
Psalter and Bible, in the same language, without points, besides large
portions of his valuable writings in manuscript, most of which Bedell
translated and got printed, both in Latin and English.

On his return to England, he established himself again at Bury St
Edmunds, and shortly afterwards married Leah, the widow of a re-
corder of Bury, of the name of Maw, whom his biographer describes
as " a person comely, virtuous, and godly." He had, by her, three
sons and one daughter, two of whom died young.

In 1615, he was presented to the rectory of Horningsheath, by
Sir Thomas Jermyn, who resided in the neighbourhood, and knew
and appreciated his rare combination of piety, deep learning, and still
deeper humility. On his coming to the then bishop of Norwich for in-
duction, he found the fees demanded for the ceremony so enormous,
that he conscientiously declined to pay more than for the writing,
parchment and wax; considering that such demands partook of the
nature of simony; and chose rather to relinquish the preferment than
purchase a title to it by the sacrifice of principle. He accordingly left
the bishop and returned home, but was sent for by him in a few days,
and regularly inducted, the offensive fees being relinquished.

He remained there for twelve years, in the most zealous performance
of his parochial duties, attending the sick, reclaiming the profligate,
and relieving the indigent ; while, at the same time, he was so success-
ful in discovering and punishing impostors, that they shunned his
parish, knowing that all they would be likely to obtain there would be
disgrace and exposure. During his residence at Horningsheath,
his friend Waddesworth died, and he, shortly afterwards, in 1624,
published the friendly controversy which had taken place between them:
the correspondence is made the more interesting by the statement of
Waddesworth's son, who mentioned that Bedell's letters almost always
lay open before his father ; that he commanded him to thank him for
the pains he had been at in writing them ; he also said that he was
resolved to save one, which seems to be explained by his carefully
bringing up his son in the protestant faith; but he does not seem to
have had sufficient energy, whatever may have been his convictions,
to retrace his own steps. The friendly, yet fervent and uncompromis-
ing spirit, in which this christian controversy was sustained, and which
terminated, unlike the generality of religious disputes, in increased re-
gard on both sides, is, however, alike creditable to both parties.

Bedell lived almost exclusively in his parish, and devoted himself to
the active duties of his profession, so that although he had published
many works, he was but little personally known. When his friend Dio-
dati came over from Geneva, and inquired for him among the members
of his profession, he was greatly surprised to find a man so eminent as

WILLIAM BEDELL. 543

Bedell, and one so prized and appreciated in a foreign country, so
entirely overlooked in his own, and after many fruitless inquiries he had
to give up the search. At length he " met with him by chance," says
his biographer, "in Cheapside, and embraced him with all the joyful
affection imaginable, until they both shed many tears ; after which
interview, Diodati carried him to the bishop of Durham, Dr. Morton,
and gave that learned bishop such a character of Mr. Bedell, that he
presently took particular care to have him provided for." In 1626, the
provostship of Trinity College, Dublin, becoming vacant, the fellows of
the College, acting under the advice of archbishop Usher, unanimously
invited him to fill that important office, while, at the same time, they
forwarded an address to the king, entreating him to lay his commands
on Bedell to accept of the situation.

The king having ascertained his perfect fitness for the office, complied
with the request of the primate and fellows of the college, and com-
manded him immediately to make arrangements for accepting it. Bedell
complied with cheerfulness and alacrity, feeling confident that this new
path of duty was opened to him by a higher hand, and with childlike
simplicity he followed upon the course thus indicated to him. He
removed to Ireland, in the first instance, alone, leaving his wife and
children under the protection of her friends, until he could provide a
residence for their reception. On his arrival in Dublin, he at once
commenced a close and accurate study of the statutes, and established
regulations of the college, resolving, with his characteristic good sense
and caution, to take no step whatever respecting the existing abuses,
until he had fully ascertained the legitimate grounds on which they
could be reformed, and the utmost limits to which his own authority
might extend. During this period of necessarily suspended action, many
rash and perhaps interested persons came to the conclusion that he
was incompetent to the office, and whispered abroad that, however
amiable and learned he might be, he was indolent, abstracted, and
totally devoid of energy and decision of character required in such a
position. These insidious whispers were at length conveyed to the ear
of the primate, who began to think that possibly the long period he
had passed in seclusion and study, might in some degree have inca-
pacitated him for the duties of a more practical life. His, however,
was a mind incapable of forming a hasty or unjust judgment, and some
months after, when Bedell returned to England for the purpose of
removing his family, he having obtained some knowledge of the general
prejudice that existed against him, which he even feared had slightly
tinged the mind of Usher, thought seriously of resigning his new pre-
ferment, and returning to his peaceful benefice in Suffolk. He, how-
ever, about this period, received so kind a letter from the primate, that
he at once resigned his English preferment, and removed with his family
to Dublin. Immediately on his settlement there, he applied himself
vigorously to the great work of reformation. He corrected various
abuses, established new regulations, and was so firm in enforcing their
performance, that it was quickly acknowledged he was of all others the
most suited to fill that high and responsible office. His ideas of duty
were higher still, and his first object was to awaken religious convictions
amongst the students, and to instruct them in right principles. He

544 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

catechised the various classes once each week, and preached every Sun-
day, though not obliged to do so, that he might the more effectually
impress and enforce the great truths which so entirely swayed his own
mind, and guided every word and action. He thought so highly of the
body of divinity compressed into the Church Catechism, that he divided
it into fifty-two parts, one for every Sunday, and gave such clear expo-
sitions of it, mixed with so much interesting speculative and practical
matter, that many took notes of them at the time, and years after copies
of them were sought for with the greatest anxiety. His sermons were
remarkable for such clear and simple statements, that the youngest and
most unlearned could comprehend them, while the deeply informed
never failed to derive from them interest and instruction. After con-
tinuing for about two years in the performance of these anxious and
arduous duties, his early discriminating and energetic friend, Sir Thomas
Jermyn, obtained for him a nomination to the two vacant bishoprics of
Ivilraore and Ardagh, which adjoined each other, in the province of
Ulster ; but from the neglect and mismanagement of the preceding
bishops, their revenues were in so unproductive a state, that they were
scarcely capable of supporting a bishop who was resolved not to supply
himself by base and indirect means, such as, at that period, were too
generally resorted to.

His new course of life opened to him new sources of usefulness, and
duties of a far more difficult and dangerous nature than any he had
yet been called upon to perform; but his efforts rose with the exi-
gencies, and at fifty-nine he encountered and overcome obstacles that
would have seemed insuperable to any who relied on their own unas-
sisted strength. His ideas of tho duties of a bishop were of a very
exalted kind, approaching, according to the statements of Burnet, the
occupation of an angel, considering that he was called upon to divide his
time " as much as could consist with the frailties and necessities of a
body made of flesh and blood, as those glorious spirits do, between the
beholding the face of their Father which is in heaven, and the minis-
tering to the heirs of salvation. He considered the bishop's office
made him the shepherd of the inferior shepherds, if not of the whole
diocese; and, therefore, he resolved to spare himself in nothing, by
which he might advance the interest of religion among them; and he
thought it a disingenuous thing to vouch antiquity for the authority
and dignity of that function, and not at the same time to express
those virtues and practices that made it so venerable among them."*

He found his diocese in a state of the greatest disorder and neglect,
both as it concerned morals and temporalities. His revenues were ex-
hausted by dilapidations — the most sacred things had been exposed to
sale — one of his cathedrals had fallen to the ground for want of repair
— and the livings were in general held by Englishmen, who did not
understand the language of the country, so that the people were liter-
ally as sheep wanting a shepherd. His own letter to archbishop Laud,
will, however, best explain the melancholy position of affairs, and the
enormous difficulties with which he had to cope, in effecting any species
of reformation.

Burnet.

TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL. 545

" Right reverend Father, my honourahle good Lord,

" Since my coming to this place, which was a little before Michael-
mas, (till which time, the settling of the state of the college, and my
Lord Primate's visitation, deferred my consecration,) I have not been
unmindful of your lordship's commands to advertise you, as my experi-
ence should inform me, of the state of the church, which I shall now
the better do, because I have been about my dioceses, and can set down,
out of my knowledge and view what I shall relate: and shortly to
speak much ill matter in a few words, it is very miserable. The
cathedral church of Ardagh, one of the most ancient in Ireland, and
said to be built by Saint Patrick, together with the bishop's house
there, down to the ground. The church here, built, but without bell
or steeple, font or chalice. The parish churches all in a manner
ruined, and unroofed, and unrepaired. The people, saving a few
British planters here and there, which are not the tenth part of the
remnant, obstinate recusants. A popish clergy more numerous by far
than we, in full exercise of all jurisdiction ecclesiastical, by their
vicar-general and officials ; who are so confident as they excommunicate
those that come to our courts, even in matrimonial causes: which
affront hath been offered myself by the popish primate's vicar-general ;
for which I have begun a process against him. The primate himself
lives in my parish, within two miles of my house ; the bishop in another
part of my diocese further off. Every parish hath its priest; and
some two or three a- piece; and so their mass-houses also; in some
places mass is said in the churches. Fryers there are in divers places,
who go about, though not in their habit, and by their importunate
begging impoverish the people, who indeed are generally very
poor, as from that cause, so from their paying double tythes to their
own clergy and ours, from the dearth of corn, and the death of cattle,
these late years, with their contributions to their soldiers and their
agents : and which forget not to reckon among other causes, the op-
pression of the court ecclesiastical, which in very truth, my lord, ]
cannot excuse, and do seek to reform. For my own, there are seven or
eight ministers of good sufficiency ; and, which is no small cause of
the continuance of the people in popery still, English, which have not
the tongue of the people, nor can perform any divine offices, or con-
verse with them; and which hold, many of them two or three, four
or more vicarages a-piece; even the clerkships themselves are
in like manner conferred upon the English; and sometimes two or
three or more upon one man, and ordinarily bought and sold, or let to
farm. His majesty is now with the greatest part of this country, as to
their hearts and consciences, king but at the pope's discretion.

" Will. Kilmore and Ardagh."
Kilmore, April 1st, 1630.

In correcting the numerous abuses which existed, Bedell was well
aware that he must meet opposition, hinderance, and even some oppro-
brium ; but he had previously " sat down and counted the cost," and
was therefore ready for the combat, and prepared to meet its conse-
quences. Unlike, however, many sincere and zealous advocates of the
truth who are carried on and aided through their difficult and ob-

II. 2 M Ir.

546

TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

structed course by a natural impetuosity of character, and heat of tem-
perament, Bedell had no stimulus but Christian principle ; everything
was done in the spirit of meekness and Christian forbearance ; for to his
faith he added patience, and where influence and example could effect
his object he preferred them to the exercise of his official authority. A
remarkable instance of this presents itself in one of his first and most
important acts, the abolishing of pluralities. Convinced that this per-
nicious practice was equally opposed to the vows at ordination, by which
they were pledged to instruct and feed with the bread of life, the flock
committed to their care, and also to the early practice of the church, he
called a meeting of his clergy, and in a sermon, with which he opened
it, he explained to them his own views and convictions upon the subject,
with a clearness and a force from which there was no appeal. He told
them that he would demand no sacrifice from them that he was not
prepared to make himself, and consequently that he had come to the
resolution of parting with one of his bishoprics ; though, as was before
stated, the joint revenue was insufficient to meet his own moderate
expenses. It should also be remembered that he was perfectly com-
petent to discharge the duties of both sees ; but he knew too well the
importance of the sanction that example gives to precept, to lose the
opportunity of thus enforcing it. He accordingly resigned Ardagh to
Dr. Eichardson, when all his clergy, with the solitary exception of the
dean, followed his example, and at once laid down their pluralities.

One of Bedell's objects in so strenuously opposing pluralities, was to
compel his clergy to reside in their parishes ; but this was in many
instances attended with great difficulty, in consequence of the repre-
hensible negligence of the commissioners, who had been appointed on
the reduction of Ulster after Tyrone's rebellion, to assign glebe-lands
to the clergy : these appear to have been allotted at random ; for in a
large proportion of instances they were out of the parish, and fre-
quently divided into small portions in different directions. To remedy
this, the bishop, who had a portion of land in every parish, resolved to
make an exchange, wherever his own was more conveniently situated for
the clergyman ; and he applied to Sir Thomas Wentworth, the lord-
lieutenant, to have commissioners appointed, that all might be fairly and
satisfactorily arranged.

to the diocese, he called together a

Some years after his

coming

General Assembly of his clergy, and laid before them a code of regu-

lations calculated to benefit the
spiritual efforts of the clergy

whole diocese, and to stimulate the
He also arranged that they should
meet annually as a synod, and issue whatever decrees they should find
necessary. The improvement in his diocese, and in the general conduct
and demeanour of his clergy was quickly perceptible, and he was early
made sensible of the necessity of it, by the observation of an Irishman,
who once said to him in open court, " that the king's priests were as
bad as the pope's priests," the latter being remarkable, at that period,
not only for drunkenness, but every sort of profligacy. His anxiety
for his clergy extended even to their temporalities ; for, finding that
they were subjected to enormous fees on their induction to a living, he
reduced the various documents then in use into one instrument, which
he wrote with his own hand.

WILLIAM BEDELL. 547

Among the many abuses existing in the diocese, the management,
or rather mismanagement, of the ecclesiastical court appears to have
been the most flagrant, while the correction and remodelling of it sub-
jected the bishop to more opposition and annoyance than any of his
previous reforms. He was, however, prepared for opposition, and firm
in his resolution to proceed. " He found this court," says Burnet,
that sat in his name, " an entire abuse. It was managed by a chan-
cellor that had bought his place from his predecessor, and so thought
he had a right to all the profits that he could raise out of it, and the
whole business of the court seemed to be nothing but extortion and
oppression; for it is an old observation, that men who buy justice will
also sell it. Bribes went about, almost barefaced, and the exchange
they made of penance for money was the worst sort of simony ; being
in effect the same abuse which gave the world such a scandal when it
was so indecently practised in the court of Rome, and opened the way
for the reformation." After due consideration, the bishop resolved to
sit as judge himself in the court that bore his name, and acted on his
authority. He convened a competent number of his clergy to sit
there with him, and after hearing the causes, and obtaining their advice
and opinion, gave sentence. Numerous causes were thus quickly dis-
posed of, and general satisfaction given, with the exception of the of-
fending officers of the court. The lay chancellor brought a suit
against the bishop into chancery, for invading his office, but the other
bishops supported him in the step he had taken, and promised to stand
by him in the contest. The bishop desired to plead his own cause,
but this was not permitted, so he drew up a most able statement, but
not sufficiently powerful to influence the decision of the courts. The
chancellor was accordingly confirmed in his position, and the bishop
cast in a hundred pounds' costs. But lord chancellor Bolton admitted
afterwards to the bishop, when he accused him of having passed an
unjust decree, that as his Father had left him only a registrar's place,
he thought he was bound to support those courts, which he saw would
be ruined, if the course he took had not been checked. It is pro-
bable that the hand accustomed to receive bribes was not slack in ad-
ministering them ; and there can be no want of charity in such a surmise,
when Bolton himself so unblushingly admitted that he had perverted
judgment and justice from private and personal considerations.*

The other bishops who had promised him their support, failed him
in the hour of need, and even the primate told him, " the tide went
so high, that he could assist him no more." The bishop, however,
having put his hand to the plough, resolved not to look back ; and,
when he returned home, continued to sit in his courts as usual, with-

* We can readily understand the corruptness of the judge, yet doubt the sin-
cerity of the admission. We have already, in our memoir of Usher, stated
our view as to the real equity of this case, when looked on according to the ana-
logy of our law, and the constitution of our courts ; but it was a period when lax
notions prevailed in every department of the administration. A refined system
of law had not yet been sufficiently disentangled from notions of discretionary
power; but in its applications to a rude and simple nation, there was added tempta-
tion and immunity for all abuse. The kind friend to whom we are indebted for
this memoir, has rightly thought fit to put forward, without question, Bedell's own
grounds of action, which are honourable to him, alike as a Christian and a man.

548 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

out receiving any molestation from the chancellor, who appointed a
surrogate, to whom he gave strict orders " to be in all things obser-
vant of the bishop, and obedient to him." This same chancellor, (Mr
Cook,) in speaking of him, some years after, said, "that he thought
there was not such a man on the face of the earth as bishop Bedell
was ; that he was too hard for all the civilians in Ireland ; and that if
he had not been borne down by mere force, he had overthrown the
consistorial courts, and had recovered the episcopal jurisdiction out of
the chancellor's hands." It was supposed that after the adverse termi-
nation of the trial, Cook was influenced by the authorities in Dublin to
take no farther steps, for he did not even apply for the hundred pounds'
costs that had been awarded him. The bishop abolished most of the
fees connected with the court, and when criminals, or " scandalous
persons," were brought to him to be censured, while he showed them
the enormity of their offence, he conveyed his reproof with such
parental tenderness, that he touched the single uncorrupted spot in
the human heart,* that which is acted upon by kindness, and the
offender frequently became a penitent. Many of the Irish priests
were brought before him on those occasions, and his exhortations to
them often produced subsequent results that could scarcely have been
calculated on. The bishop felt great pity for the native Irish, who
were in a state of the most profound darkness, and yet, from their
avidity in receiving spiritual instruction, seemed actually to be hunger-
ing and thirsting after righteousness, while their priests could do little
more than read their offices, without understanding them ; he therefore
determined to direct his attention to their particular instruction, that
they might be no longer " blind leaders of the blind." He was suc-
cessful in many instances ; and provided those, of whose conversion he
was well assured, with benefices. He had also a short catechism
printed both in English and Irish, with prayers and portions of scrip-
ture, for the benefit of the young and the ignorant; and was most
particular that those he ordained for the ministry should understand
the native language. But the object he had most at heart, of all
others, was the translation of the Scriptures into Irish; and for the
accomplishment of this, he secured, by the advice of the primate, the
services of a person of the name of King, who had been converted
many years before, and was considered the best Irish scholar of his
day. He was a poet as well as a prose writer, and though seventy
years of age, he entered on the undertaking with zeal and industry;
and the bishop, who formed a high idea of his character and capabili-
ties of doing good, ordained him, and gave him a benefice. Being
unable to meet with any of the native Irish that understood either
Greek or Hebrew, and dissatisfied with a translation from the English
version, this apostolic bishop, who thought only of " spending and being
spent" in his master's service, resolved on learning the Irish language
himself, and became such a proficient, that he was enabled to compose
a grammar for the use of other students. As the work advanced, he
undertook the revision of it, and every day, after either dinner or
supper, he compared a chapter of the Irish translation with the Eng-

* Chalmers.

WILLIAM BEDELL. 549

lish, and then compared the latter with the Hebrew, and the Seventy
Interpreters, or with Diodati's Italian translation, of which he thought
very highly ; and he corrected the Irish wherever he found the English
translation in error, so that, in fact, it is the most perfect of the two.
A few years completed the translation, and the bishop was preparing
to get it printed at his own expense, when a very unexpected obstacle
arose to the performance of this good work.

Some persons, interested in keeping the population of the country in
a state of ignorance and barbarism, spread abroad an impression that
the translator was a weak and ignorant man, and incompetent to the
work ; and artfully infused this impression among a high and influential
circle, at the head of which were lord Strafford and the archbishop of
Canterbury, neither of whom were competent, from their ignorance of
Irish, to put the work to the only fair test, that of comparison with
originals. The consequence was the suspension of the work, and a
most tyrannical abuse of power towards its unoffending translator. A
young man of the name of Baily pretended that the benefice which the
bishop had given to King had lapsed, and obtained a broad seal for it,
while the real incumbent was ejected, fined, and imprisoned. The bishop
was indignant at such oppressive and unjustifiable proceedings, and
expressed his opinion of them in a letter to the lord deputy, of which
a copy has been preserved. The manuscript was, however, providen-
tially preserved from the general devastation, and was printed many
years afterwards at the expense of the Hon. Robert Boyle. The interest
the Irish take in hearing the glad tidings in their native language is
not less at the present day than it was in that day when Mr. Cloogy,
the bishop's chaplain, says, " I have seen many of them expx^ess as much
joy at the reading of a psalm, or of a chapter in the New Testament,
in the Irish tongue, as was discovered by the people in the captivity,
when Ezra read the law unto them."

The bishop, in the interval that occurred before the rebellion, trans-
lated into the Irish language, and printed in his own press, some of Leo's
sermons, three of the homilies on the parable of the rich man and Lazarus,
with a new edition of his catechism in English and Irish.

The bishop preached twice every Sunday, and when he entered the
church, it was evident, from his manner, that he remembered the counsel
of the preacher : " keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of Grod."
Before the evening sermon he regularly catechized the younger part of
the congregation. His voice is described as having been "low and
mournful, the gravity of his countenance and behaviour secured attention,
and the instructions which he delivered were excellent and spiritual."

The bishop's domestic habits and conduct were consistent with his
public profession, and his devotional exercises, both in private and in his
family, were frequent, fervent, and exalted. He prayed with his family
three times in the day ; early in the morning, before dinner, and after
supper ; and he never rose from dinner or supper without having a
chapter read, which he often expounded. On Sundays, about the observ-
ance of which he was very strict; considering " the obligation of the
Sabbath moral and perpetual," he was in the habit of reviewing the
subjects of his sermons when retired amongst his family, and concluded
the dav with a psalm of thanksgiving, and with prayer.

550 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

He considered forms merely as the scaffolding that supported the
building, and consequently most necessary ; but in his estimation
" Christianity was not so much a system of opinions, as a divine principle
renewing and transforming the heart and life;" and he often repeated
the saying of Augustine, " I look for fruit, not leaves." He wrote
numerous paraphrases and expositions of scripture, which, along with
his journal, and a large mass of papers, were lost during the rebellion,
while a valuable Hebrew manuscript was preserved by the exertions of
one of his Irish converts, and is at present in the library of Emmanuel
College, Cambridge. It is a remarkable circumstance that but one of
the priests who had conformed to the protestant religion under Bedell's
instruction, returned to their ancient faith, and that one turned out so
infamous a character, that he plainly showed that he was totally devoid
of all religion. The rest shared with Bedell the multiplied horrors of
the rebellion of 1641, which was guided and stimulated by the fanatic
barbarity of the Spanish priests, who would be satisfied with nothing less
than a general massacre, and a universal extirpation of the protestants.
With these atrocities raging round him, the bishop was still left un-
molested. " There seemed," says Burnet, " to be a secret guard set
about his house ; for though there was nothing but fire, blood, and deso-
lation about him, yet the Irish were so restrained, as by some hidden
power, that they did him no harm for many weeks." He goes on to say
that the bishop's house was in no condition to make any resistance, and yet
his neighbours, all around, fled to him for shelter and safety. He shared
everything he had with them ; so that like the primitive Christians, they
had all things in common ; " and now that they had nothing to expect
from men, he invited them all to turn with him to God, and to prepare
for that death which they had reason to look for every day ; they spent
their time in prayers and fastings, which last was likely now to be imposed
on them by necessity. The rebels expressed their esteem for him in
such a manner, that he had reason to ascribe it wholly to that overrul-
ing power that stills the raging of the seas and the tumult of the people ;
they seemed to be overcome with his exemplary conversation among
them, and with the tenderness and charity that he had upon all occasions
expressed for them, and they often said, he should be the last Englishman
that should be put out of Ireland. He was the only Englishman in the
whole county of Cavan that was suffered to live in his own house
without disturbance." * Not only his own house, but the out-buildings,
the church and church-yard, were full of people, who had been living
in affluence, and were now glad of a heap of straw to lie upon, and of
some boiled wheat to support nature. The bishop continued to sustain
their sinking courage, calling upon them to commit their way unto the
Lord, and to trust in Him.

Some of the more moderate of the rebels, in the county of Cavan,
seeing most of their expected aids fail them, and that although many of
their commanders were good, yet that the majority of their soldiery
were at once cruel and cowardly, and consequently incapable of bring-
ing about the day of independence and restitution that they dreamed of,
began to fear that the days of retribution might follow, and came to the

* Burnet.

WILLIAM BEDELL. 551

bishop, entreating him to interpose for them with the lords-justices, and
to write a petition, to be signed by themselves, entreating clemency, and
the removal of their grievances, and promising to make every possible
reparation for the past, and for the outrages of the lower orders. The
bishop complied ; but the address, though admirably worded, produced
no effect on the authorities to whom it was addressed.

About this period, Dr. Swiney, the titular bishop of Kilmore, came to
Cavan. The bishop was intimate with his brother, whom he had been
the means of converting, and ultimately provided for, besides keeping
him for a long time at his own house as an inmate. Dr. Swiney told
the bishop that he would go and live at his house, for the purpose of
protecting him, if he wished it ; but this the bishop declined in a court-
eous letter, which was written in the purest Latin.

During this season of calamity the bishop seemed to live for every one
but himself. He was applied to for advice and instruction by Mrs.
Dillon, the wife of a son of lord Roscommon's, who was a protestant,
and very piously disposed ; but who had been inveigled into a marriage
with Mr. Dillon, under the assurance that he professed the same faith.
So far from this he was a bigoted member of the church of Rome, and
was also engaged in the present rebellion. He, in addition, insisted in
bringing up his own children in the Roman catholic faith, but did not
interfere with her religion, or that of her children by her first marriage.

The bishop wrote her a long and consoling letter, containing an
epitome of christian duty, with its exalted privileges, and consoling
hopes, with advice suited to her peculiar position, wise, moderate, and
uncompromising.

The bishop remained unmolested from the 23d of October, the first
day of the breaking out of the rebellion, until the 18th of December,
when he received a command from the rebels to send away the out-
casts he had so long sheltered and comforted. This he of course refused
to do ; and the rebels then assured him, that much as they loved and
respected him (more indeed than all the English whom they had ever
seen), they would yet be compelled, in compliance with the strict
orders of the council at Kilkenny, to remove him from his house, to
which he answered in the language of David — " Here I am, the Lord
do unto me as seemeth good unto him ; the will of the Lord be done."

He was accordingly seized with his two sons, and Mr. Cloogy his
chaplain, and taken to the ruined castle of Lochoughter, the only place
of strength in the county. It was built on a small island about a
musket-shot from the shore, while only one small tower remained of
the building. The water also had gained so much upon the island,
that there was only about a foot of dry land surrounding the tower.
They allowed the prisoners to take nothing away with them, while Dr.
Swiney took possession of all that belonged to the bishop, and quickly
converted that house, which might almost be called holy, having been
so long sanctified by prayer, into a scene of riot, and the most debasing
drunkenness, and on the following Sunday he performed mass in the
church. They placed the bishop, who was near seventy, on horseback,
but the rest had to proceed on foot, and on their arrival at this miserable
habitation, all but the bishop were put into irons. The place was con-
sidered one of some strength and importance, and had been intrusted

552 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

to the care of Mr. Cullum, who had a large allowance from the govern-
ment, for keeping it supplied as a magazine with powder, and weapons
of defence ; but he neglected his charge, and was one of the first
captives placed there, when the rebels had converted it into a prison.
The situation was very bare, and much exposed to a winter unusually
severe, while the building was completely open to the weather. The
gentle conduct of his keepers, as bishop Burnet well expresses it, seemed
like a second stopping of the lions' mouths. The good old bishop,
according to the same writer, took joyfully the spoiling of his goods
and the restraint of his person, comforting himself in this, that these
light afflictions would quickly work for him a more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory. The day after his imprisonment, being the
Lord's day, he preached to his little flock on the epistle of the day,
which set before them the humility and sufferings of Christ; and on
Christmas-day he preached on Gal. iv. 4, 5, and administered the sacra-
ment to the small congregation about him ; their keepers having been so
charitable as to furnish them with bread and wine. The following day
his son preached on the last words of saint Stephen. While they were
endeavouring to keep their minds in the holy and prepared state of
men waiting for their Master's coming, an unexpected circumstance
occurred which was the means of removing them out of their miserable
captivity. This circumstance was a sally made by Sir James Craig,
Sir Francis Hamilton, and Sir Arthur Forker, afterwards Lord Gren-
ard, with a body of Scots, from some houses in which they were
closely besieged, and their provisions being exhausted, they preferred
slaughter in the field, to famine. The attempt was at once unexpected
and successful : they took some of the rebel leaders, killed others, and
dispersed the rest. The result of this was their immediately demanding
that the bishop, his two sons, and Mr. Cloogy, should be exchanged for
their prisoners, and these latter being persons of importance, the
demand was complied with. On the 7th of January, the prisoners on
both sides were liberated, but the Irish only performed half their con-
pact, as they promised to allow the bishop and his family to remove to
Dublin, but hoping to secure additional advantages by keeping him in
their power, they would not permit him to leave the county. He accord-
ingly removed to the house of an Irish minister, Denis O'Shereden, to
whom some respect was shown, in consequence of his Irish extraction,
though he had conformed to the protestant religion, and married an
English woman. He was a man of kind disposition, and strict principle,
and aided many in their extremity.

During this last month of the bishop's life, notwithstanding his declin-
ing strength, he each Sunday either read the prayers and lessons, or
preached. On the 23d of the month, he preached from the 71st psalm,
particularly dwelling on these words, " 0 God, thou hast taught me from
my youth, and hitherto have I declared thy wondrous work ; now also
when I am old and gray-headed, forsake me not." On the succeeding
Sunday, he repeated again and again the following verse, which occurred
in the psalms for the day, " Send down thine hand from above, rid
me and deliver me out of the great waters, from the hand of strange
children, whose mouth talketh vanity, and their right hand is a right
hand of falsehood." The intense earnestness with which he repeated it,

WILLIAM BEDELL. 553

but too plainly showed what was passing in his mind, and his family
were impressed as if by an omen, and could not restrain their tears.
On the next day he became alarmingly ill, and on the following, ague,
the natural consequence of his long exposure to damp, set in. As he
grew worse he called his sons and their wives around him, and addressed
them at intervals in appropriate terms.

His speech failed shortly after, and he slumbered with little intermis-
sion, appearing composed and happy to the last. He died on the night
of the 7th of February, the day of the month on which he was delivered
from his captivity at Lock water, or Lough-outre, as it is elsewhere called.

He requested to be laid next to his wife, who had been buried in the
remotest part of the south side of the church-yard of the cathedral of
Kilmore. The titular bishop having taken possession of the cathedral,
it became necessary to get his permission. The chief of the rebels
gathered his forces together, and accompanied the body from Mr.
O'Shereden's to the church-yard of Kilmore with great solemnity, firing
a volley of shot over his grave, and some of the better instructed among
them exclaiming in Latin, " Bequiescat in pace ultimus Anglorum ; —
May the last of the English rest in peace ! They had often said, as
they esteemed him the best of the English bishops, so he should be the
last that should be left among them.

" Thus lived and died," says Burnet, " this excellent bishop, in whom
so many of the greatest characters of a primitive and apostolical
bishop did show themselves so eminently, that it seemed fit that he
should still speak to the world, though dead ; since great patterns give
the easiest notions of eminent virtues, and teach in a way that has
much more authority with it than all speculative discourses can pos-
sibly have."

His judgment and memory were very extraordinary, and conti-
nued unimpaired to the last. He corresponded with many of the first
divines of the age, not only in England, but on the continent, and wrote
in Latin with great elegance and correctness. He was free of ac-
cess, and easy in conversation, but talked seldom of indifferent mat-
ters ; his thoughts and heart being fixed above ; and whatever conver-
sation occurred, he generally gave it a useful and instructive direc-
tion. He was as remarkable for his sincerity and faithfulness in giving
reproof, as for his mildness and moderation in receiving it, however
undeserved.

He was tall and graceful in his person; and there was an eleva-
tion in his countenance and demeanour that discovered what was
within, and created an awe and veneration for him. His style was
like his mind, — clear, elevated, and correct, but plain and simple, de-
spising superfluous ornament, especially on subjects of such solemn
import as the salvation of souls.

His deportment was serious and unaffected; and one of his bio-
graphers, in speaking of his dress, says, "His habit was grave; in a
long stuff gown, not costly, but comely; his stockings woollen; his
shoes not much higher behind than before." His grey hairs were a
crown to him, both for beauty and honour, and he wore a long beard,
according to the general custom of the time. His strength and health
were remarkably good until within a few years of his death, and even

554 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

after he left Lockwater, he surprised his family by the bodily exertion
he was enabled to make.

His recreations were few and simple; consisting chiefly of walk-
ing1, and digging in his garden, in which he took great interest, hav-
ing acquired much skill in the management of plants during his resi-
dence in Italy. The furniture of his house was plain, but suitable to
his situation, and his table was well covered, and generally well at-
tended with guests; but they were chiefly of those who could make
him no return, and he lived amongst his clergy as if they had been
his brethren. His humility was great, and finely contrasted with his
undaunted firmness, whenever principle was involved, or self-interest
to be sacrificed. He selected an ingenious device to express and in-
crease this humility. It was a flaming crucible, with the following
motto in Hebrew, " Take from me all my tin;" the word in Hebrew
that signifies tin being Bedel. He directed in his will that his tomb-
stone should bear this simple inscription : — " Depositum Gulielrni quon-
dam Episcopi Kilmorensis" signifying that his body was committed in
trust to the earth, till the time arrived when she should give up her
dead.

JOHN BRAMHAL, PRIMATE OF IRELAND.

CONSECRATED A.D. 1634. DIED A.D. 1663.

John Bramhal was descended from a respectable family in Cheshire :
he was born in Pontefract, in Yorkshire, in 1593. He received his
education at the university of Cambridge, from whence, after taking
his degree of A.M., he obtained a benefice in Yorkshire. A contro-
versy with some Jesuits upon the Romish tenet of transubstantiation,
terminated so as to ascertain his being possessed of high logical powers :
and thus recommeaded, he was appointed chaplain to Matthews arch-
bishop of York, whose friendship he soon gained, by his sterling virtues
and sound practical ability. By this prelate he was appointed a pre-
bendary of York and Rippon. In this station his character became
generally known, and obtained a high influence among the aristocracy
of his county; and becoming known to Sir Thomas Wentworth, then
president of York, he was selected to be his chaplain. In 1633, there
was a regal visitation in Ireland, held by his patron, with whom he
came over and acted as one of the chief directors of the proceedings.
He resigned his English preferments by the desire of Wentworth,
and by his influence and recommendation was soon after appointed to
the see of Derry; and was consecrated in the chapel of Dublin castle,
on May 26th, 1634, by Usher and Dopping, with the bishops of
Down and Cork. He had been recommended to the sagacious
Wentworth, by his eminent attainments and talents for the conduct
of affairs, at a period when the unsettled state of the kingdom, both
in church and state, made such attainments more than usually de-
sirable. In addition to his extensive theological and academical ac-
quirements, Bramhal was also known to have obtained an accurate

JOHN BRAMHAL, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 555

knowledge of English law, a fact indicative of the industry of his dis-
position, and the solidity of his understanding.

In Ireland he quickly launched into a course of useful activity.
There he found indeed ample scope for the hand of correction and re-
formation. Wentworth's visitation had exposed the ruinous state of the
church, which was, in every respect, in the lowest condition consistent
with existence: its revenues were insufficient for the sustenance of
the clergy; and its condition in point of doctrine and discipline had
fallen into an entire derangement. Bramhal at once set himself, with
all the vigour of his character, to the reform of these defects, so fatal
to the maintenance of religion, and no less so to the progress of civil
prosperity in this kingdom.

In 1635, there was a meeting of parliament, in which he exerted
himself, in conjunction with the lord-lieutenant, to repair the ruins
of the church. An act was passed for the execution of pious uses.
Another to confirm leases of certain lands made by the bishops of
Armagh and other prelates, and empowering them to make leases for
sixty years of such lands within five years. Another was passed for
the preservation of the inheritance, rights and profits of lands belonging
to the church and persons ecclesiastical. Another act was passed to
facilitate the restitution of impropriations, tithes, &c, with provisions
restraining alienations of such rights. In the course of the following
four years, this activity of Bramhal, with the aid of these legal provi-
sions, effected considerable improvements in the external condition of
the church : availing himself of the law, and exerting such means as
could be made available, he recovered between thirty and forty thousand
pounds, per annum, of its income.

But his exertions were in nothing more successfully exerted for the
church, than in the sharp struggle, which, at the same time took place,
to restore the suspended uniformity of the two national churches. For
this object there were many strong motives to be found in the then
existing political state of the two kingdoms. The tremendous struggle
of the civil wars was then developing in the distance ; and the more tre-
mendous element of religious dissent, though, not yet disclosing any
thing of its real power as a principle of revolution, had begun so early as
the previous reign, to make itself sufficiently sensible in the balance
of opposing powers, to have become an object of earnest and anxious
attention in the view of all thoughtful and observant politicians. The
church of Ireland had received a tinge of the Calvinistic spirit, which
had then presented itself, in a form opposed to the principles of the
episcopal church of England, and was feared by the court, and the
court party also, as inconsistent with the principles of monarchical
government then held. The puritans were becoming already for-
midable in England, and it was reasonably feared, that if their influence
should increase, all classes of Christians who concurred with them in
general views of doctrine or discipline, would eventually be found to
make common cause with them against the crown; and such, indeed,
afterwards turned out to be the actual fact. These considerations,
then, sufficiently apparent, had a prevailing weight in the policy of
Charles, and of the sagacious Wentworth. Unquestionably, reasons of
a still more influential description were not without their due weight :

556 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

both the king and his lieutenant were men susceptible of a strong tinge
of religious notions; and it is not necessary to point out those which
must then have pressed strongly on the heart of every Christian mem-
ber of the episcopal church. To every consistent member of this
church, there were questions of far higher interest than those paltry
considerations of nationality, which engross the narrow scope of popular
opinion, and cloud the intellect of the partisan; it was obvious, that
the adhesion of the Irish church, to the uniform state of the English,
was not only an accession of strength to the whole; but, as matters
then stood, essential to the reformation, and even the safety, of the
church. The disunion of the Irish church, like that of any smaller and
less matured system comprising human principles of conduct and feel-
ing from a larger and more matured system, with which it has such a
connexion as subsists between the two countries, is not unlike that in-
dependence, which children would willingly gain, from the control of
their parents : in all such cases the premature arrogation of self-govern-
ment is sure to be maintained by every deviation from the course of
prudence and discretion, that pride, passion, and the natural combative-
ness of human nature, can suggest. There are, it is true, abundant
grounds of exception to this general rule; but, at that time, such
grounds had no existence in a country, in all things characteristically
governed by party feeling, and at that time especially, subject to this
and all other deleterious influences, from the deficiency of those coun-
teracting processes which belong to knowledge and civilization Our
church could only attain to a healthy state, and preserve its vitality by
that incorporate vigour and regulated action, to be attained by a union
like that then designed, and against which, there was no objection in
principle; governed by English bishops, and ostensibly agreeing in
forms of worship, doctrine, and church government, the same in all
essentials that have any practical importance, the Irish church had
fallen into the utmost irregularity in these respects, and having in
itself no sanatory principle, might be restored but could not be impaired
by such a connexion.

We have already had occasion to state the change which had been
some time before effected in the form of the Irish church, by the sub-
stantial adoption of the articles of Lambeth. We are now, at the dis-
tance of twenty years from that incident, to relate the re-adoption of
the articles and canons of the English church, a course advised by
Bishop Bramhal, and violently resisted by many other influential mem-
bers of the convocation. The plan of proceeding devised for the
occasion, appears from a letter from Laud to Strafford, to have been
this, that the articles of the church of England should be received
ipsissimis verbis, and leave the other articles unnoticed, on the ob-
vious principle of the statute law, that such a silence would amount
to a virtual annulment. The propriety of this course was made clear
enough from the justly anticipated risk of opposition. Such indeed,
when the matter was first moved, seems to have been the suggestion of
Usher himself, if we rightly interpret a passage in one of Strafford's
letters to Laud, in which a way was " propounded by my lord Primate,
how to bring on this clergy the articles of England, and silence those
of Ireland, without noise as it were, aliud agens." Usher, however,

JOHN BRAMHAL, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 557

retracted ; from what influence it is not now easy to ascertain farther
than conjecture; but of his dislike to the proposed alteration there is
no doubt. His change of opinion was expressed, and awakened
the suspicions of Strafford; but he was at the moment too heavily
encumbered with the pressing hurry of parliament, to interfere;
and the convocation in which the proposal was introduced pro-
ceeded in its own way: what this was, and its likely result, may
best be told in the words of the same letter: " At length I got
a little time and that most happily too ; I informed myself of the state
of those affairs, and found that the lower house of convocation had
appointed a select committee to consider the canons of the church
of England; that they did proceed in that committee, without at all
conferring with their bishops, that they had gone through the book of
canons, and noted in the margin such as they allowed with an A ; and
on others, they had entered a D, which stood for deliberandum ; that
into the fifth article they had brought the articles of Ireland to be
allowed and received under the pain of excommunication," &c.

The indignation of Strafford will easily be conceived; he at once
summoned before him the chairman of the committee who was desired
to bring with him the book of canons to which the above marks were
annexed, with the draught of the canons which they had drawn up to
present the same evening in the house ; and having expressed his strong
disapprobation, he peremptorily forbade the presentation of the report,
till further notice. He then convened a meeting composed of Usher,
Bramhal, and other bishops, before whom the committee had also been
summoned to attend. In this assembly he sternly rebuked them for
the whole of the proceedings. He then directed the prolocutor of their
house, who was present by his desire, that he should put no question
in the house, touching the receiving or not the articles of the church
of Ireland ; but that he should simply put the question for the allow-
ing and receiving the articles of the church of England, " barely con-
tent, or not content."

Usher was desired to frame the canon for this purpose; but having
done so, Wentworth, not contented with his draft, drew up another
himself and sent it to Usher, who soon came to tell him that he feared
it could never pass in that form. But Strafford, whose suspicions as to
the primate's good-will, on the occasion, had been strongly excited,
announced his determination to put it to the vote as it stood ; and forth-
with sent it to the prolocutor. This was the first canon of the con-
vocation, and declaratory of the adoption of the thirty-nine articles, in
the following form: " For the manifestation of our agreement with the
church of England, in the confession of the same Christian faith, and
the doctrine of the sacraments ; we do receive and approve the book of
articles of religion, agreed upon by the archbishops, and bishops, and the
whole clergy in the convocation, holden at London, in the year of our
Lord 1562, for the avoiding of diversities of opinions, and for the esta-
blishing of consent touching true religion. And, therefore, if any here-
after shall affirm, that any of those articles are, in any part, supersti-
tious or erroneous, or such as he may not with a good conscience
subscribe unto, let him be excommunicated, and not absolved before he
makes a public recantation of his error." By this canon, the thirty-

558 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

nine articles were adopted; but the natural question arose among the
clergy — on whose part, in general, there remained a strong leaning in
favour of the former articles — whether they were to be regarded as
abolished or not. Some conceived that, by the new canon, they who
should subscribe would only thereby declare their agreement with the
doctrines of the English church, while the former still continued in
force. Others, thinking more precisely, saw that the Irish articles
were annulled by the canon. And it cannot but be admitted, that a
recent enactment, of which the provisions were in direct contrariety to
the previous law on the same points, must needs be considered as a
virtual repeal. On points of coincidence, the former provisions would
be merely superseded; and the question can only properly arise on
points unaffected by the new law. Such must have been the decision,
had the case been referred to judicial consideration; but in such a
question relative to an entire system of fundamental provisions, im-
bodying, in fact, the constitution of a church, there would seem to be
a question of fitness antecedent to any such considerations. A church
intending to unite itself with another, by the reception of its symbols
and forms, must be referred to the design of such an act ; and thus the
maintenance of its ancient frame must be regarded as a plain ab-
surdity, and wholly inconsistent with the object. Usher, indeed, with
an inconsistency which we can but imperfectly account for, by allow-
ing for the partiality of parentage — for the tenets of Usher are not
represented by the Irish articles — considered that the English
articles were only received subject to the construction they might re-
ceive from the Irish, and for the purpose " of manifesting our agree-
ment with the church of England." For some time after, the primate
and several of the bishops required subscriptions to both sets of articles ;
but it was not without strong doubts of the legitimacy of such a pro-
cedure, an application was made to the lord-deputy for consent to
re-enact the Irish articles, which he refused. Most of the bishops, how-
ever, adopted a course more in unison with the intent of Bramhal and
the government. And in the troubles, which immediately after set in,
the matter was dropped, and the thirty-nine articles have ever since
been received without any question, as those of the united church of
England and Ireland.

A similar effort was made with respect to the canons, but resisted
by the primate, on the ground that the Irish church would thus be
reduced to an entire dependence on the English; to prevent which the
good primate proposed that, in this respect, some differences should be
maintained, to preserve independence in that church of which he was
the ecclesiastical head. Such a reason was consistent with the patriotism
of Usher, and the no less respectable corporate feeling which is a main
preserving principle of public institutions: but it was little consistent
with a more enlarged view of the true interests of Ireland, which has
in nothing suffered more than from its high pitch of nationality, main-
tained by distinctions, of which most, arising from the state of things,
could not be removed. In thus excepting against the primate's rea-
son, we may say, en parenthese, that eventually, this slight distinction
between the two churches has been of service to religion in this island.
But there were indeed better reasons for differences in the canons of

JOHN BRAMHAL, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 559

the churches than the one put foremost by Usher ; and these, fortu-
nately, were alone operative in the actual arrangement. It is, however,
mentioned by Carte, that " abundance of the members were puritanical
in their hearts, and made several trifling objections to the body of canons
extracted out of the Englisn, which was offered to their judgment and
approbation ; particularly to such as concerned the solemnity and uni-
formity of divine worship, the administration of the sacraments, and the
ornaments used therein ; the qualifications for holy order, for benefices
and pluralities, the oath against simony, the times of ordination, and
the obligation to residency and subscription."

Notwithstanding these and such objections, it was agreed to con-
struct a body of ecclesiastical. canons and constitutions for the Irish
church, on the frame of those of England, by adopting such as might
be deemed unobjectionable, and adding such as the special circum-
stances of Ireland might seem to require. The execution of this
arrangement was committed to Bramhal, who drew up the Irish
canons to the number of one hundred. These were passed in the con-
vocation, and received the king's assent. The differences between
those and the canons of the English church have been noticed, in a
careful comparison, in a learned work by a late prelate, to whom the
Irish church is variously indebted for works of great practical utility, to
which we need only here refer.

As the puritans became ascendant in England, and obtained the
full possession of the powers of government, the Irish parliament fol-
lowed the example of the long parliament in England, and became the
active instrument of rebellion and oppression. Their party in Ireland
felt the advantage of the juncture, and resolved not to be wanting to
the occasion : a petition against the bishops of the north, partly false
— and what was not false, unjust — was got up, and received by par-
liament complacently. Against the active and uncompromising Bram-
hal, the especial enmity of the puritan party was directed: he was
impeached, together with the chief justice, the chancellor, and Sir G.
Radcliffe, by Sir Bryan O'Neill. The supporters of the charge were
powerful and confident ; and Bramhal's friends urged that he should
keep himself aloof; but the firmness of the bishop's character made
him resolve to meet the vexatious charges, which, in truth, had no ob-
ject but a pretext for his destruction. He came to town and appear-
ed in his place in the house of lords. He was immediately arrested, and
committed to prison. The record of his merits and sufferings on this oc-
casion has been perpetuated by the eloquence of Jeremy Taylor: —
" When the numerous army of vexed people heaped up catalogues of ac-
cusations— when the parliament of Ireland imitated the violent proceed-
ings of the disordered English — when his glorious patron was taken from
his head, and he was disrobed of his great defences — when petitions
were invited, and accusations furnished, and calumny was rewarded
and managed with art and power — when there were about two hun-
dred petitions put in against him, and himself denied leave to answer
by word of mouth — when he was long imprisoned, and treated so that
a guilty man would have been broken into affrightment and pitiful
and low considerations — yet then, he himself, standing almost alone,
like Callimachus at Marathon, hemmed in with enemies, and covered

560 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

with arrows, defended himself beyond all the powers of guiltiness, even
with the defences of truth and the bravery of innocence ; and answered
the petitions in writing, sometimes twenty in a day, with so much
clearness, evidence of truth, reality of fact, and testimony of law, that
his very enemies were ashamed and convinced."* Such is the elo-
quent, but not exaggerated, account which Taylor has given, of the
most truly illustrious period in the life of this eminent prelate. He
winds up his brief and nervous detail, by the remark, that his enemies
having failed to make good any particular case against Bramhal, had
recourse to the common subterfuge of democratic persecution, and at-
tacked him with vague and general accusations; or, in the words of
Taylor, " They were forced to leave their muster-rolls, and decline
the particulars, and fall to their sv fj^sya, to accuse him for going about
to subvert the fundamental laws, the device by which great Straiford
and Canterbury fell ;" a device which, assuredly, in Bramhal's case,
as in those of Laud and Wentworth, betrays, in the utter dishonesty
of the pretence, a sanguinary premeditation to remove persons ob-
noxious by their virtue and principles. The robber as fitly might justify
his vocation on the public roads, by pretending to maintain the laws
of property, as the puritan parliament affect to vindicate any law but
the will of an armed democracy. To these notices we may add the
bishop's own account, in a letter to the primate: — " It would have been
a great comfort and contentment to me, to have received a few lines
of counsel or comfort, in this my great affliction which has befallen
me, for my zeal to the service of his majesty, and the good of this
church, in being a poor instrument to restore the usurped advowsons
and impropriations to the crown, and to increase the revenue of the
church in a fair, just way, always with the consent of the parties, which
did ever use to take away errors.

" But now it is said to be obtained by threatening and force. What
force did I ever use to any? What one man ever suffered for not
consenting? My force was only force of reason, and law. The scale
must needs yield when weight is put into it. And your Grace knows
to what pass many bishopricks were brought, some to 1 00 per annum,
some 50, as Waterford, Kilfenoragh, and some others; some to 5
marks, as Cloyne, and Kilmacduagh. How in some dioceses as in
Frens and Leighlin, there was scarce a living left that was not farmed
out to the patron, or to some for his use, at £2, £3, £4, or £5 per annum,
for a long time, three lives or a hundred years. How the Chantries of
Ardee, Dundalk, &c, were employed to maintain priests and friars,
which are now the chief maintenance of the incumbents.

" In all this my part was only labour and expence : but I find that
losses make a deeper impression than benefits. I cannot stop men's
mouths; but I challenge all the world for one farthing I ever got,
either by references or church preferments. I fly to your grace as an
anchor at this time, when my friends cannot help me. God knows
how I have exulted at night, that day I had gained any considerable
revenue to the church, little dreaming that in future times that act
should be questioned as treasonable, &c. &c."

* Quoted from Mant's History of the Irish Church.

JOHN BRAMHAL, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 561

In the reply of Usher, among other things, it is mentioned, " my
lord Strafford, the night before his suffering, (which was most chris-
tian and magnanimous, ad stuporem usque) sent me to the king,
giving me in charge, among other particulars, to put him in mind of
you and of the other two lords that are in the same pressure." Event-
ually the king sent over his commands for the deliverance of the
bishop, and he was soon after liberated.

The Irish rebellion now shortly set in; its deplorable consequences
were not confined to any sect or class ; but however they may have
commenced in causes already sufficiently dwelt on, rapidly spread and
involved alike the innocent and guilty in their prolonged course of
terror, suffering, and destruction. Among the sufferers, it was least
of all to be reckoned that Bramhal should escape his share. The
miscreant O'Neile, whose character was an equal compound of mad-
ness and atrocity, made an effort for his destruction: Bramhal, how-
ever, came off with the loss of some personal property in the attack,
the plunder of his carriages, and escaped into England, where he
bravely and faithfully encountered many dangers scarcely less imminent,
by his adherence to the king.

He visited this country again under the Commonwealth, and narrowly
escaped being seized and delivered up at the revolt of Cork: on this
occasion Cromwell is said to have strongly expressed his vexation, and
said that he would have given a liberal reward for the apprehension
of that " Irish Canterbury."* After some other misadventures, he
again took the wise part of escaping into England, and was on the
passage saved from his enemies, by a providential change of wind,
which baffled the pursuit of two parliamentary ships, by which the
vessel in which he sailed was chased. Finding no refuge in England,
he was presently driven to the shift of travelling, and formed the some-
what unaccountable and rash design of a visit to Spain. But on his
arrival in that country he received a seasonable warning: at an inn
upon the road, his surprise was great at finding himself recognised
by the hostess, who, on looking at his face, at once called him
by his name. On being questioned by the bishop, the woman
showed him his picture, and gave him the startling information,
that many copies of it had been sent over with orders for his arrest
and committal to the Inquisition. Her husband, she added, was
under orders to that effect, and would not fail to execute them,
should he discover him. It may be presumed, that the bishop was
not slow to depart. On this incident doubts have been raised; with
the grounds of the particular doubts we do not concur. But we
have no very great confidence in any part of the narrative : we can-
not admit the doubt that his parliamentary enemies would be active
to get rid of the " Irish Canterbury" by any means, and we can as
little doubt the convenient subserviency to such a purpose, of that
most revolting and execrable of human institutions, the Spanish Inqui-
sition: but we should most doubt that the sagacious intelligence of
Bramhal would have walked heedless into so formidable a trap, with-
out some motive more adequate than has been stated.

* Harris.

n. 2 n Ir.

562 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

At this fearful period of calamity and reverse, when few clergy or
prelates of the English and Irish church escaped the license of plun-
der, and the rapacity of unhallowed power ; and Bramhal, like most of
his brethren, was narrowly struggling on the verge of utter destitu-
tion, he was so fortunate as to receive a debt of £700, from some
person to whom he had lent the sum in better times. As he was cir-
cumstanced, this was, indeed, a great and signal mercy, which he
thankfully received, and gratefully disposed of, not only for his own
relief, but that of other sufferers of his forlorn and persecuted church,
and faithful loyalists, " to whom even of his penury he distributed so
liberally, that the blessing of such as were ready to perish fell upon
him."*

But Bramhal was reserved for better times; and as he had been
tried and found faithful in the season of a fiery trial, so he was to be
rewarded by the station for which he had been thus severely approved.

" At this period," writes bishop Mant, " the church of Ireland had
preserved only eight of her former bishops ; Bramhal of Derry ; John
Lesly of Raphoe; Henry Lesly of Down and Cavan; Maxwell of
Kilmore; Baily of Clonfei't; Williams of Ossory; Jones of Clogher;
and Fulwar of Ardfert. — Of these, the bishop of Derry, in particular,
was well-known, and highly esteemed for his previous ecclesiastical
services, so that the general sense of the church and of the kingdom
concurred with the judgment of the government, which made an early
selection of him for the archbishoprick of Armagh, and primacy and
metropolitan dignity of all Ireland, to which he was nominated in
August 1660, and formally appointed on the 18th of January, 1 66 l."f
The appointment of so many new bishops as such a state of things
demanded was for a time the rallying point of party and sectarian
excitement : the desolate condition of the Irish church had raised the
strong hopes of its enemies of every persuasion, that it could hardly
be restored: and above all, at the present moment the expectation was,
that the sees would not be filled. There was some difficulty on the
part of government, arising from the want of the great seal, for the
execution of the patents ; but the marquess of Ormonde saw the strong
expediency of putting an end to party speculation and to the propaga-
tion of the adverse feeling, by expediting the nomination which he
advised to have made out under the king's signet. On the opposite side,
addresses were sent up from numerous protestants, chiefly the leaven
of the Cromwellian soldiers, to petition against bishops, and that their
spiritual interests might remain " under the charge of the godly minis-
ters of the gospel, who had so long laboured among them." The
strength of this party was, however, not of a substantial or permanent
character, as it lay almost entirely in the officers of the army, who
were in fact only kept together in a state of organization by the want
of money to pay their arrears. By these, or rather by their principal
commanders, Sir T. Stanley, &c, the petitions were sent round for
signatures, which were obtained with the ordinary facility of that
spurious expression of popular sentiment. The officers had neverthe-
less been generally so free in their language, that there were few of

• Mant from Vesey's life of Bramhal. f Hist, of the Church of Ireland.

JOHN BRAMHAL, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 563

them altogether beyond the reach of being called to account for sedi-
tious and disloyal expressions : of this circumstance Sir Charles Coote
took advantage for the purpose of intimidating the most violent of
them, and it is stated that they were thus led to desist.*

Yet the intrigues thus defeated, would, at this time, have been
of slight comparative moment, had tbere not been persons of high
rank and weight secretly concerned in impeding the re-edification
of the Irish church. Such persons could not without danger
commit themselves to proceedings which might, without wrong, be
interpreted into disaffection to the crown at a moment when such
a charge would be most unsafe. They felt themselves therefore,
compelled, silently to allow the appointment of the bishops; but it
was another thing and subject to no dangerous construction, to
interfere with their temporalities, and to resist in every way the
restoration of church possessions. Under the pretence of urging
other interests, they endeavoured to obtain the insertion in the king's
declaration for the settlement of Ireland, of a clause to withhold all im-
provements of ecclesiastical rents made during the government of the
earl of Strafford — improvements mainly attributable to the wisdom
and energy of Bramhal. They were now attacked on the pretence
that they had been made at the council table, which had no authority
for such acts.

To counteract this intrigue, Bramhal, now raised to the head of the
Irish church, convened the other eight bishops in Dublin, in Novem-
ber, 1660, when they agreed upon an address, in which they repre-
sented to king Charles, " that it never was the intention of his grand-
father, that one single tenant, who had no need, and was of no use to
the church, should enjoy a greater yearly revenue out of his royal
bounty than the see itself, and the succession of pastors ; yet this was
the case till the time of the earl of Strafford, through whose sides the
church was now attacked, and in danger of suffering. That they
were ready to demonstrate, that the council table in Ireland had been
ever esteemed and used as the proper judicature for such causes,
throughout the last two reigns, and so upwards throughout all ages
since the conquest. Nor could it possibly be otherwise; the revenues
of Irish bishops, depending much on the rules of plantation — and rules
of plantation being only cognoscible at the council board." Having
further extended the application of this principle, the petition went on
to state the consequences, which they showed to be the entire beggary
of the sees; and craved that nothing should be done to the prejudice
of the church, until at least they might be heard in its defence. This
petition was presented by the marquess of Ormonde, and received,
through him, a favourable answer from the king, " that he would, by
all the ways and means in his power, preserve their rights and those
of the church of Ireland, so far as by law and justice he might, &c,
&c." With the king's letter the marquess wrote to the primate, assur-
ing him of his own zealous co-operation. The good offices of the
marquess were indeed prompt and effectual, and, through his zealous
exertion, the king soon restored the temporalities of the Irish church

* Carte, ii. 209.

to the full extent of their possessions in 1641. He also issued his
royal mandate to the primate for the consecration of the new bishops
nominated to the vacant sees. Accordingly, two archbishops and ten
suffragans were, on the 27th of January, 1661, consecrated in St
Patrick's cathedral, by the primate, assisted by four other bishops ; the
consecration sermon being preached by Jeremy Taylor. And, not
often in the history of churches has there occurred an occasion so
suited to call forth the higher powers of that illustrious preacher, than
on that occasion which witnessed the restoration of the sacred edifice
of the church from the dust and ashes in which it had been cast down
by cupidity and fanaticism; and the consecration to that sacred office
of twelve men, who had, during these dark and dreadful years of trial
and dismay, braved all the terrors and sufferings of persecution for
her sake, and now stood up in their white robes, like those " which
came out of great tribulation," to stand before their Master's throne
and serve him in his temple. Bishop Mant, who gives a brief but full
detail of the proceedings of this day, closes his account with the fol-
lowing observation, which we here extract : — " The consecration, at the
same time, and by imposition of the same hands of twelve Christian
bishops, two of the number being of metropolitan eminence, to their
apostolical superintendence of the church of Christ, is an event proba-
bly without a parallel in the church." The event and its consequence,
with reference to the illustrious primate engaged in the consecration,
is thus noticed by bishop Taylor, in his sermon preached at the funeral
of archbishop Bramhal, in the year 1663: —

" There are great things spoken of his predecessor St Patrick, that
he founded 700 churches and religious convents, that he ordained 5000
priests, and with his own hands consecrated 350 bishops. How true
the story is I know not, but we were all witnesses that the late primate
whose memory we celebrate, did by an extraordinary contingency of
Providence, in one day consecrate two archbishops and ten bishops ;
and did benefit to almost all the churches of Ireland; and was greatly
instrumental in the re-endowments of the whole clergy; and in the
greatest abilities and incomparable industry was inferior to none of his
antecessors."

We cannot, consistently with the popular design of this work, here
enter, in all the detail to which we might otherwise be inclined, upon
a view of the position in which our church now stood, after
many trying vicissitudes again settled on a strong basis, against
a sea of troubles which continued and continues to beat against
her sacred ramparts. She was yet surrounded on every side by
jealousy, enmity, and cupidity; and her many and various enemies,
though beaten down by the result of the long struggle which had
steeped the land in woe and murder for so many years, still retained
their hate, and, though they did not endanger her existence, ex-
posed her to many trials, and much abridged her usefulness. On
this general state of things we shall at a further period venture some
reflections, which might here carry us further than is our desire from
the direct purpose of this memoir.

Among the difficulties to which the bishops were now exposed, was
that arising from the number of their clergy who had been admitted from

JOHN BRAMHAL, PRIMATE OF IRELAND. 565

the presbyterian church, and who, therefore, had not received ordina-
tion according- to the canons of the church, as it now stood. To these
men in general, there was personally no objection; but it was justly
decided by Bramhal and the other bishops, that the canons of the
church must be adhered to. A departure from order is unquestion-
ably inconsistent with that inviolability on which the existence of in-
stitutions is (to all human contemplation,) dependent. The difficulty
was indeed considerable : the necessity of a strict adherence to the
laws of an institution is not always sensible to the popular eye; it is
easier to see the evil or the hardship when a good preacher and a
worthy minister of the gospel stands questioned on a seeming point of
form, than to comprehend the vital necessity of preserving inviolate the
order and form of a sacred institution. The bishops were, perhaps,
becomingly indifferent as to the foam and " salt surf weeds" of popular
opinion : but they felt as men the hardship to the man, and as prelates
the loss to the church. The course to be pursued was nice and diffi-
cult, for it was a peremptory necessity in such cases, that the minister
should receive episcopal ordination: such, by a clause in the act of
* uniformity was the law; nor could the bishop depart from it for any
consideration of expediency, without an abandonment of the sacred ob-
ligations of his office. Under these circumstances, the conduct of
Bramhal displayed the prudence, firmness, and kindness of his nature ;
" when the benefices were called at the visitation, several appeared
and exhibited only such titles as they had received from the late power.
He told them they were no legal titles ; but in regard he heard well
of them, he was willing to make such to them by institution and in-
duction, which they humbly acknowledged, and entreated his lordship
to do. But desiring to see their letters of orders, some had no other
but their certificates of ordination by some presbyterian classes, which,
he told them did not qualify them for any preferment in the church.
Whereupon the question immediately arose ' are we not ministers of
the gospel ?' " To this Bramhal replied that such was not the ques-
tion, and explained the essential distinction between an objection on
the ground of a positive disqualification for the ministry, and one on
that of not being qualified to be functionaries of the church. He
pointed out the important fact that the defect of their orders was such
as to vitiate the title of their temporal rights, and that they could not
legally sue for their tithes. Without disputing their sacred character
or their spiritual qualification, he insisted on the necessity of guarding
against schism and of the preservation of order. To his arguments all
the more reasonable gave their assent, and complied with the law by
receiving* ordination according to the form prescribed by the canons of
the church, and contained in the Book of Common Prayer. In the
letters of orders given on this occasion, there was introduced the fol-
lowing explanatory form. " Non annihilantes priores ordines, (si quos
habuit,) nee validitatem aut invaliditatem eorum determinantes, multo
minus omnes ordines sacros ecclesiarum forensicarum condemnantes,
quos proprio judici relinquimus: sed solummodo supplentes quicquid
prius defuit per canones ecclesise Anglicans requisitum; et provi-
dentes paci ecclesiee, ut schismatis tollatur occasio, et conscientiis fide*
lium satisfiat, nee ullo modo dubitent de ejus ordinatione, aut actm

566 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

suos presbyteriales tanquam invalidos asseverentur : in cujus rei testi-
monium," &c.

In 1661, a parliament was called in Dublin, and Bramhalwas appointed
speaker of the house of lords; the lord chancellor having been sup-
posed to be disqualified for that office, as being1 at the time one of the
lords-justices of the kingdom. The appointment, with the reasons and
attendant circumstances, are thus announced to the duke of Ormonde,
by lord Orrery: "His majesty having empowered the lords-justices
to appoint a fit person to be speaker of the house of lords, my
lord Chancellor has proposed to us my lord Santry, against whom
we had several material objections, besides his disability of body; and
he being at best a cold friend to the declaration: which made me pro-
pose my lord primate, well known in [versed in] the orders and pro-
ceedings of that house, (having sat in two parliaments,) a constant and
eminent sufferer for his late and now [present] majesty : and that in
such a choice, we might let the dissenters and fanatics see what we
intend as a church government. Besides, it was but requisite, that
church which had so long suffered, should now, (in the chief of it,)
receive all the honours we could confer on it. My lord chancellor,
[Sir M. Eustace,] for some days dissented therein, but at last con-
curred; and this day my lord primate sat in that character."*

In this parliament the primate was both alert and efficient in pro-
moting the cause of the church and the interests of the clergy, and his
efforts were expressly recognised by a solemn vote in the convocation.
The parliament, indeed, appears to have been favourably inclined, as
their first act was a declaration, requiring conformity to the church
and liturgy as established by law. They are said to have proceeded
thus early in this matter, as there was an apprehension of opposition
from the dissenters so soon as their estates should be secured.-)- Other
acts indicative of the same spirit may be here omitted, having been
for the most part already noticed

During the contiuuance of this parliament, a false alarm was excited
by a letter, dated November 18th, and purporting to be written by a
priest, named James Dermot, to another, named James Phelan. This
was sent to the lords-justices, and contains complaints of the obstinacy
of their enemies, in not returning to the obedience of the holy see,
holding out prospects of freedom, and recommending that care should
be taken to preserve their arms for the time of using them which was
near, &c. This letter was the means of exciting alarm, and causing
rigorous proceedings to be proposed; but the primate at once sus-
pected and early pronounced it to be an imposture. To expose the
truth he advised to have the two priests sent for: this was done, and
many circumstances appear to have confirmed the primate's suspicion,
although it was not found an easy matter to quiet the zeal of the
government functionaries or the strong fears of the protestants ; and
the priests were treated with undeserved suspicion and protracted
inquiry before the affair was set at rest.

On the 31st May, 1661, by an order of the house of commons, the
master of the wards waited upon the primate to request, that he would

* Caries Life of Ormonde, and Orrery's State Letters. f Life of Ormonde.

JOHN LESLIE, BISHOP OF CLOGHER. 567

administer the holy sacrament of the Lord's Supper to the members:
the primate, in compliance, appointed for the purpose the Sunday fort-
night, in St Patrick's cathedral; and the Friday previous to that day
he also appointed for a sermon, preparatory for the occasion. The
sermon was on the subject of repentance, as testified by the forsaking
of former sins, and was printed in accordance with a request of the
house.

On the 25th June, 1663, the church was deprived, by death, of this
most able, judicious, and efficient of her servants. Some, like Usher,
may have deserved more highly the praise of comprehensive and pro-
found learning; some, like Bedell, may be more venerable for saintly
devotion; and some, like Taylor, may be illustrious for the splendid
combination of unrivalled eloquence with these eminent gifts. But
for the solid judgment which directs, and the moral virtues of firmness
and industrious perseverance which holdon through the oppositions and
difficulties of circumstance ; for the sagacious estimate of the wants and
workings of institutions, and the practical ability and energy to carry
into effect the necessary expedients for improvement, reform, or de-
fence ; few churchmen may justly claim a fuller or worthier tribute of
praise than Bramhal.

JOHN LESLIE, BISHOP OF CLOGHER.

CONSECRATED A. D. 1628 DIED A. D. 1671.

The family of Leslie originated in Hungary at a very early period,
and became in the course of many generations diffused into most
parts of Europe. In their native country the family rose to high dis-
tinction, and gave many illustrious names to history. In the year
1067, when queen Mai'garet came to Scotland, Bertholdus Leslie
came in her train, and obtained the favour of Malcolm III., who gave
him his own sister in marriage, with large grants of land, and the
command of the castle of Edinburgh, which he had bravely defended
against the king's enemies. He was afterwards raised to the earldom
of Ross ; and gave rise to many noble families in the Scottish peerage.

The family of Leslie, in Ireland, is descended from William Leslie,
fourth baron of Wardis in Scotland, who for his personal agility ob-
tained the post of grand falconer to James IV. of Scotland. Of
his sons, two gave origin to Irish families; James, whose grandson
married into the family of Conyngham; and George, whose son, the
Rev. John Leslie, is the subject of our present sketch.

He was born in 1572, in Scotland, and when about thirty-two, went
abroad to complete his education by foreign travel. He visited Spain,
Italy, and Germany, and having passed into France, was induced, by
what reason we have not discovered, to reside there for many years.
He was probably induced to this prolonged sojourn by the facilities
for study not yet to be found at home, and which that country then
afforded; and this conjecture is confirmed by the fact, that he attained
a high and honourable proficiency in the learning of that period?
and, in a not less remarkable degree, a command of the continental

D6b TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

tongues. He remained abroad for twenty-two years, and came home,
we may presume, with a high reputation from the foreign schools.
He was consecrated bishop of Orkney, having then attained the ad-
vanced age of fifty-six. He obtained doctor's degree in Oxford, and
not long after came over to Ireland with his cousin James. He was
made a denizen of Ireland, and in 1633 appointed a privy-councillor,
and bishop of Raphoe.

During his continuance in this see, he recovered a third of its estate
from those of the gentry of the diocese who wrongfully held the bishop's
lands. He also erected an episcopal palace, which enabled him not
only to stand his ground through the troubles which shortly after
broke out, but to take a bold and distinguished part — not only stem-
ming the first fury of the rebels, but resisting, with not less vigour
and success, the more organized and powerful arms of Cromwell. His
spirit and vigour induced the government to offer him a military com-
mand— this he refused as inconsistent with his sacred calling. But his
refusal had in it no touch of weakness ; and when the emergency of the
occasion appeared to demand, he performed the duties of a brave and
able leader, in defence of the protestant people of Ireland.

On one occasion this spirited old man displayed a spirit which ap-
proaches more near to the heroism of the ancient Greek warrior than
an aged christian prelate. When the parliamentary forces began to
obtain a superiority in the war, the bishop collected a force among his
neighbours, and advanced to the defence of a mountain-pass on the road
from Raphoe to Maharabeg in Donegal, where Sir Ralph Gore lay be-
sieged— expecting the approach of the enemy, he is reported to have
dropped on his knees on the roadside, and in the hearing of his men
uttered the following very singular prayer: — " Almighty God ! unto
whom all hearts be open, thou knowest the righteousness of the cause
we have in hand, and that we are actuated by the clearest conviction
that our cause is just ; but as our manifold sins and wickedness are not
hid from thee, we presume not to claini thy protection, trusting in our
own perfect innocence ; yet if we be sinners, they are not saints ; though
then thou vouchsafest not to be with us, be not against us, but stand
neuter this day, and let the arm of the flesh decide it." The enemy
came shortly on, and were defeated, and the neighbouring country thus
delivered from much severe calamity.

Bishop Leslie was soon after besieged by Cromwell in his palace ;
but this having been built with military foresight of such dangers, his
resistance was successful. He was the last person in his country who
held out against the parliamentary forces. When the liturgy was pro-
hibited, he used it in his own household, and amid all the dangers of
the time, steadily and openly maintained his episcopal character.

This brave and pious bishop died in 1671, at his house (or castle) of
Glaslough, in his hundredth year, having been, according to his bio-
graphers, fifty years a bishop ; though, looking to the dates which they
give of his consecration and death, the time appears to be something less,
as his consecration as bishop of Orkney was in 1628, from which to his
death, in 1671, amounts to no more than 43 years.

Bishop Leslie left two sons, of whom one, Charles Leslie, dean of
Connor, was eminent in the next generation.

V-

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 569

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR.

BORN A. D. 1613. DIED A. D. 1667.

In the year 1555, it is known that the statutes of earlier reigns,
from Richard II., against the Lollards, the earliest protestants of
England, were revived by the bigotry of queen Mary, and carried
into a fearful and atrocious execution by those merciless and miscreant
apostates, Bonner and Gardiner. Among the exalted and worthy
prelates and ministers of the church of England, who obtained the
martyr's crown in that season of trial, was Rowland Taylor, the chap-
lain of the illustrious Cranmer, and rector of Hadleigh in Suffolk.
This worthy servant of God had the fortune to have a neighbour, the
rector of the next parish, a man of pliant conscience, who, like all
such, was perhaps ready to veer and turn with the wind of preferment
and power, without any very conscious sacrifice of principle. Of this
person it is mentioned, that, in the fervour of his zeal to comply with
the new court doctrines, he was not content to celebrate the mass in
his own parish of Aldham, but resolving to convert also the parishioners
of Hadleig-h, he seized possession of the church. When Taylor re-
ceived the information of this outrage, he quickly repaired to the scene.
A crowd of the people, who had been attracted by curiosity and other
feelings, stood outside : the door was locked, and Taylor had to make
his way through a side entrance. On entering the church, he found his
neighbour dressed in the attire of the church of Rome, and standing
before the communion table ready for that service so irreconcilable
with any of the reformed churches, and surrounded by a guard of
soldiers. Taylor was unsupported by the presence of any of his
own parishioners, who were locked out ; but he was a man of firm and
warm temper, and not less zealous than the fiery renegade who had
intruded into his church. " Thou devil," said he, " who made thee so
bold as to enter this church of Christ?" The intruder replied —
" Thou traitor, what doest thou here, to let and disturb the queen's
proceedings?" — " I am no traitor, but the shepherd whom God hath
appointed to feed his flock in this place. I have therefore authority
here; and I command thee, thou popish wolf, in the name of God, to
avoid coming hence," retorted Taylor. But the rector of Aldham and
his party were not to be moved by words; they put Taylor forcibly
out of the church, and fastened the door by which he had entered.
The people who surrounded the building, when they perceived that
violence had been used, had recourse to stones, but could do nothing
more than break the church windows. The party within completed
their commission, and, being regular soldiers, came away without
effective opposition. From this act of resistance, no very serious ap-
prehensions were perhaps at first entertained by Taylor, who probably
contemplated deprivation as the extreme consequence to which he might
be subjected by persisting in his duty: the law was yet in his favour,
as the occurrence happened a little before the revival of the statutes
above mentioned; and there was a seeming security in the known

sense of the Eng-lish people. Such a reliance is, indeed, mostly
illusive; it is seldom considered that it requires a considerable
time to call national feeling into action, and that great and sudden
exertions of arbitrary power are always more likely to amaze and
prostrate, than to awaken the slow process of popular concentra-
tion. The queen, inflamed by a morbid and fanatic temper, and urged
by the bigots of a persecuting creed, acted with decision. The protec-
tion of law was easily withdrawn ; and when the statute's of the dark ages
were revived, Taylor was urged by his friends to escape from a danger
which was now easily foreseen; but the brave and devoted man rejected
such counsel. He told his friends — " I am now old, and have already
lived too long to see these terrible days. Flee you, and act as your
consciences lead. I am fully determined to face the bishop, and tell
him to his beard that he doth naught." His courage was not long to
remain untried. He was brought before the lord-chancellor Gar-
diner who degraded the office of a bishop, and the seat of British
equity, to give weight to the Satanic mission of an inquisitor. When
confronted with his judge, Taylor asked him, in a solemn and unmoved
tone, how he could venture to appear before the judgment-seat, and
answer to the Judge of souls for the oaths he had taken under
Henry and Edward. Gardiner answered, that these were Herod's
oaths, and to be broken; that he had acted rightly in breaking them,
and wished that Taylor would follow the example. The trial was not
of long duration; for Taylor admitted the charges that he was married,
and held the mass to be idolatrous. He was committed to prison,
where the savage Bonner came to deprive him of his priesthood. Here
another characteristic scene occurred. It was necessary that Bonner
should strike him on the breast with his crosier. When about to
perform this ceremonial, his chaplain told the bishop — " My lord,
strike him not, for he will surely strike again." " Yea, by St Peter,
will I," was the stout old man's reply. " The cause is Christ's, and I
were no good Christian if I refused to fight in my Master's quarrel."
His sentence was the stake; and on the 9th February, 1656, he was
brought out to be burned before his parishioners at Hadley. He was
put into a pitch barrel, before a large crowd of afflicted spectators,
whose outraged feelings were restrained by a cruel soldiery. Before
fire was set to the barrel in which this martyr stood, an unknown
hand among the soldiers threw a fagot at his head, with such force
as to make the blood stream down his face. When he felt the flames,
he began to repeat the fifty-first Psalm — " Have mercy on me, O God,
after thy great goodness ; according to the multitude of thy mercies,
do away mine offences. Wash me thoroughly from my wickedness,
and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my faults; and mv
sin is ever before me. Against thee only have I sinned, and done this
evil in thy sight," &c. He was interrupted by a stroke of a halbert in
the mouth, and desired to pray in Latin. The anger, or compassion
of one of his guards happily abridged his sufferings. While the fire
was slowly increasing about his agonized frame, a merciful blow on
the head knocked out his brains.

From this venerable martyr of the English church was lineally
descended Nathaniel, the father of Jeremy Taylor. The suffering of

his venerable ancestor had entailed poverty on his descendants; as
Gardiner, who had probably selected the victim for his estate, had ob-
tained possession of it after his death ; and Nathaniel Taylor held a
station in life more lowly than might be presumed. He was a barber-
surgeon — a profession which, though very far below the rank of the
surgeon of modern science, was no less above the barber of our time.
Bishop Heber infers the respectability of his condition from his having
filled the office of churchwarden, mostly held by wealthy and respect-
able persons. That he was not devoid of learning is ascertained from
a letter written afterwards by his son, who mentions him " as reason-
ably learned, and as having himself solely grounded his children in
grammar and mathematicks." *

He was, it is supposed, sent at an early age to a grammar school in
Cambridge, in which his progress is not traced, and entered the uni-
versity in his thirteenth year, as a sizar in Caius college. There too,
but indistinct and scanty notices remain of the course of reading he
may have pursued. It does not appear from his writings, or from the
known incidents of his life and conversation, that he made any con-
siderable progress in mathematical science then, as since ardently
cultivated in Cambridge. Yet the study of the mathematical science,
as it then existed, would have filled but a small cell in the wide and
all-contemplative mind of Taylor; and we cannot easily conclude that
any part of ancient learning so gratifying to the intellect, and even
attractive to the speculative imagination, should not have been followed
and mastered by one who entered already grounded in the science.
But many high talents were combined in Taylor, and we cannot con-
ceive him long detained by the mere science of quantity and position ;
for the reader must recollect that the foundations of applied science
had not been yet laid. But he was doubtless industrious in the
acquisition of the multifarious knowledge which gleams copiously dif-
fused through his style. It is generally related, on the authority of
one who was his friend, that he obtained a fellowship in his own col-
lege, after taking his bachelor's degree, in 1631. But Heber, who
was in possession of fuller and more authoritative accounts, cites Mr
Bonney, who denies that there is any proof for such an assertion.

Shortly after taking his master's degree, he was admitted into holy
orders; and an incident soon occurred which brought him into notice,
and laid the first step of his advancement. He had among his college-
intimates a friend named Risden, who had a little before obtained a
lectureship in St Paul's cathedral. Having occasion to absent himself
for some time, he applied to Taylor to fill his place until his return.
Taylor consented, and soon became the object of that admiration which
ever followed his preaching. Besides the power, brilliancy, and varied
effect of his style; the grace of his person, and youthful sweetness and
dignity of his countenance, heightened the charm of an eloquence un-
precedented in the pulpit; and with these, "perhaps," writes Heber,
" the singularity of a theological lecturer, not twenty years of age, very
soon obtained him friends and admirers." His fame soon reached the
palace of Lambeth, and Laud sent for him to preach before him there.

* Heber.

572 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

He attended, preached, and was approved. But the archbishop was
no less judicious than zealous in his encouragement of learning and
piety : he thought it would be of far more advantage, in both respects,
that Taylor should remain some time longer in his college. In order
that he might more effectually be enabled to serve him, the archbishop
thought it desirable to remove him to Oxford, in which he had him-
self considerable influence, having spent most of his life there, and
some authority, being a visitor at the university. Some interval
is supposed by Heber to have elapsed between the first interview
here mentioned and the latter circumstance, during which Taylor
may have prosecuted his studies at Maidley Hall, near Tamworth,
according to a tradition still current in that vicinity. On October 20th,
1635, he was admitted in University college, Oxford, to the same rank
which he had held in Cambridge ; in three days after, a letter from
Laud recommended him to succeed a Mr Osborn, who was about to
give up his fellowship. This recommendation, however influential it
might be with many, was naturally counteracted by that strong and
salutary corporate feeling, which renders such bodies jealous of inde-
pendence and in some degree exclusive. Taylor had scarcely obtained
the character of an Oxfordman ten days ; and unfortunately the statutes
then required three years standing in the candidates. Laud argued
that the degree of master conveyed the privileges of the standing
which it implied : and the fellows were inclined to assent. The oppo-
sition of the warden, Dr Sheldon, defeated the object proposed, and in
consequence no election took place at the time — and the nomination
thus appears to have lapsed to the archbishop, in his visitorial capacity.
In virtue of this power, he appointed Taylor to the vacant fellowship,
on the 14th of January, 1636. The history of this incident seems to
have been much involved in difficulties, which we think unnecessary to
state, as the recent and popular memoir of Taylor by Bishop Heber,
which we mainly follow, investigates the question with great fulness and
sufficient authority, and, we think, explains the grounds of his decision
satisfactorily. The bishop concludes his statement with the remark,
that " the conduct of Sheldon, throughout the affair, seems to have
been at once spirited and conscientious ; but it may have been marked
by some degree of personal harshness towards Taylor, since we find
that, for some years after, a coolness subsisted between them, till the
generous conduct of the warden produced, as will be seen, a sincere
and lasting reconciliation."

Taylor was thus placed in a position of all others perhaps the most
favourable to the pursuits, as well as to the prospects, of a young stu-
dent in divinity, who has talents to cultivate and a love of literature as
it then subsisted. It was a time when the productive energies of the
human intellect had not yet been called, otherwise than slightly and
partially into operation — or even the right modes and processes of sucli
a development been more than intimated to the mind of the day. The
tendency, therefore, of the highest and brightest intellect was rather
to gather and accumulate from the vast spread stores of the learning of
antiquity and the middle ages, than to spend its power on such vague
efforts at invention, as mere speculative investigations were only sure
to produce. Hence the vast and seemingly inexhaustible treasures or

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 573

erudition which give to Hooker, &c. &c, the colossal amplitude, which
has been so often observed by modern critics. These giants, as they
are not unaptly termed, were fully engaged in extricating from the
quarry, in rough-hewing and drawing* into orderly arrangement, the
ponderous materials, on which so many and magnificent structures
have been raised. The profuse treasures of Greek and Roman an-
tiquity; the comparatively unknown branches of oriental literature,
which still demand the earnest cultivation of universities; the wide
field of scholastic learning", from which purer and more compendious
methods of reasoning and expression were then beginning to arise,
according, perhaps, to the best models of the standard writers among
the ancients. These offered a wide and sufficiently engrossing direc-
tion. But, in addition, vast revolutions in ecclesiastical and civil con-
cerns were in their maturity of form ready to break out into action,
at the call of circumstances. And questions of the most profound im-
portance, and involving the very foundations of church and state, called
forth the more available powers of learned men. The discussions
which began yearly to acquire increasing interest were not, as now,
met on points of seemingly slight detail, but at the fountain head
Hence the broad and comprehensive view of a whole question, from the
first elements to the minutest ramifications of the argument — so that
every discussion was an elementary treatise. This tendency was, it is
true, augmented by the time hallowed dialectic of the schools, from
which the art of reasoning was yet drawn, and the habits of the intellect
formed. Hence the minute and nugatory distinctions and divisions,
without substantial difference, which characterize the ablest pens. The
comparative scarceness of elementary treatises, and indeed of books,
either demanded or invited the digressive method which supposes
every thing unknown, and leaves out nothing that may however re-
motely be involved in the main argument. Such were the main causes,
and such the general state of literature, in the period on which we are
now engaged. And we have thought it not unseasonable to advert to
it here, as we are impressed with a strong sense of its relation to the
intellectual frame of Taylor's genius — though we shall again have to
notice the same facts, when we shall come to trace the relative character
of the learning of this period and our own, and the transition from one
to the other.

During his occupation of the fellowship, Taylor is said to have been
much admired for his preaching, which Wood designates " casuistical ;"
but Heber comments on the term, by observing, that " few of his ex-
isting sermons can be termed ' casuistical.' ': We should presume that
Wood employs the term inaccurately, and rather to convey an impres-
sion than to describe precisely. A more important fact was the sus-
picion which started up, at this time, of his being privately inclined to
the communion of the church of Rome, — a suspicion which haunted him
through life. This groundless notion mainly arose from that absence
of bigotry, which ever characterizes the higher order of Christians;
sometimes, indeed, to the verge of that opposite extreme, which de-
serves the name of latitude. There is no subject so dangerous to
touch on lightly, as the accusation or defence of those fierce extremes,
into which human opinion seems to verge in opposite directions.

Truths which rather influence from habit than by reason, are held by
nearly the same tenure as prejudices; and, therefore, in the very re-
motest allusion to bigotry, there is always a risk incurred of seeming
to favour the opposite and worse extreme: worse, because it is better
to adhere with a blind tenacity to truth and right, than blindly to reject
them; and better to be a formalist, than to break down the barriers of
divine and human institutions. The combative principle of our nature,
in nothing appears more strongly, than in its union with the intellec-
tual ardour for disputed opinions and tenets ; but they, who, in support
of a creed however holy, would " call down fire from heaven," may be
truly answered with the divine rebuke, " Ye know not what manner of
spirit ye are of." If, indeed, the hostile array of opposing churches
were but to vie in the essential spirit, and endeavour to outshine each
other in the genuine sanctity of Christian charity, there would, in the
course of a little time, be an end of ecclesiastical contention. It must,
however, in fairness be allowed, that as the rank of those who are
Christians according to the Redeemer's own test, — " if ye love one
another," — is by no means commensurate with the church visible, in
any of its forms, and that there is yet at least a spurious and
powerful array of secular hostility, leagued against it on every side:
it is, perhaps, therefore, providentially ordered, that the church can
derive strength from the worldly passions, or the intellectual ten-
dencies which cling together in support of institutions. The charge
of bigotry is a missile which can be retorted indeed freely on every
side — but unless when it involves the baser and darker passions of our
nature we would say it is too indiscriminately applied, and is never
so truly applicable in the worst sense, as to the shallow infidel who is
the most ready to use it. In making this allowance, we may claim
from the severe and rigid champion of tenets, some indulgence for the
discriminative liberality of men like Bedel and Taylor, whose zeal
against the errors of the church of Rome did not prevent their ready
and cordial intercourse with such of its clergy as were otherwise
worthy of respect and regard. There are protestant clergymen — and
it is indeed for this reason we think it necessary to say so much on the
point — who are so destitute of moral firmness, and so little built up in
the knowledge of their profession, that they cannot be liberal without
being lax, or charitable without feebleness, and a few weak indivi-
duals have allowed the vicious love of popularity to usurp the place
of principle ; such instances, we are glad to allow, are not frequent,
but, a few instances of this nature are enough to exasperate pre-
judice, and lead to the confusion of ideas, so often contained in such
reproaches as we have noticed. But on the high intellectual and spiri-
tual level of a man like Taylor, opposition cannot take the form of
narrow bigotry, or conciliation and charity that of low and feeble
compromise. Mailed alike in the armour of righteousness, and pano-
plied with the full resources of talent and knowledge — there was no
room for any feeling opposed to a frank and ingenuous regard for an
able and a good man, who might yet entertain errors, much to be depre-
cated. Great learning and superior understanding must command
respect, and good qualities regard, even in an enemy, and the person
who feels them not, is at least devoid of some of the nobler virtues ol

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 675

human nature; but we cannot conceive an object of deeper or more
anxious interest to a good mind, than an amiable, well-intentioned,
humane, and gifted man, whom we know to be involved in unhappy and
dangerous errors, which may, for any thing we can know to the contrary,
place him under a most awful weight of spiritual responsibility — a feel-
ing which must be heightened much by the consideration, should it have
place, that he is the object of severe human enactments, (even though
just and politic,) and of the prejudices of the vulgar, whose feelings,
however rightly directed, are seldom placed upon the just grounds. At
the period of his life, in which we are now engaged, Taylor is men-
tioned to have lived on terms of intimacy with a learned Franciscan,
known by the appellation of Francis a Sancta Clara, but whose real
name was Christopher Davenport ; and of whom, Heber gives the fol-
lowing brief account : — " He was born of protestant parents, and, with
his brother John, entered, at an early age, in the year 1613, as
battler or poor scholar of Merton college. The brothers, as they grew
up, fell into almost opposite religious opinions. John became first a
violent puritan, and at length an independent. Christopher, two years
after his entrance at Merton, being then only seventeen years old, fled
to Douay with a Romish priest, and took the vows of Francis of Assisi.
He rambled for some years through the universities of the Low countries
and of Spain; became reader of divinity at Douay, and obtained the
degree of doctor. At length he appeared as a missionary in England,
where he was appointed one of Queen Henrietta's chaplains, and dur-
ing more than fifty years, secretly laboured in the cause of his reli-
gion." We further learn, that, although his great ability led to his
promotion, and preserved to him the confidence of the papal cabinet,
yet his known liberality of sentiment and the conciliatory spirit, which
is said to have appeared throughout his writings, drew upon him a
general distrust among the members of his own church. One of his
books entitled " Deus, Natura, Gratia," had the honour to find a place
in the Index Expurgatorius of Spain, and narrowly escaped being
burnt in Italy.* He spent much of his time in Oxford, among the
learned men of which he had many friends, and often found refuge
there in the stormy times through which he lived. He died at a very
advanced age, in 1 680.

Such friendships, however consistent with firm and consistent adher-
ence to Taylor's own church, could not in such times escape miscon-
struction. An intimacy with the same person was afterwards, in 1 643,
one of the charges which brought Laud to the block.f The friar, in
his conversation, very naturally spoke of Taylor, as of one whose
opinions tended very much to an agreement with his own : it is easily
understood, how two able men of different persuasions, may very much
confine their communications either to those points on which they can
agree, or at least in which they may not unreasonably hope to convince
each other ; and as easy to apprehend the mistake which is but too
likely to arise from such conversations, when so much that is common
is differently seen in relation to different principles. It is, therefore,
no injustice to assume, that Davenport is most likely to have repre-

* Heber. f Heylin, Book V. p. 40.

576 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

sented Taylor in such a manner, as could not fail to heighten much
the prejudices which, in such times, would be excited by their acquain-
tance.

It was at a very advanced age, and, of course, many years after
Taylor's death, and still further from the period of their intimacy, that
Davenport told Wood how Taylor had some serious thoughts of being
reconciled to the church of Rome, but that the Roman catholics re-
jected him on account of some offensive expressions, in a sermon which
he preached at this time, on a fifth of November, in the university.
Now, this is mere dotage, if not a very unwarrantable breach of truth;
for, it appears that the unwarrantable expressions in question, are
nothing less than a clear chain of reasoning, from which the preacher
infers that the gunpowder plot was a consistent consequence from the
tenets of the Romish church. That Taylor may have regretted and
even apologised for such a sermon, proves nothing. He was vexed at
finding himself compelled to give offence, by a statement which he
would not have made if he did not think it just. The sermon was
published with a dedication to Laud. Should we seem to dwell on
this point at greater length than its importance may be thought by
some to demand, we must plead that the charge was frequently re-
newed; and, considering the history of the times through which Tay-
lor lived, was inferior to none in the risks to which its object must
have been exposed. There is, indeed, a general and far more serious
importance in the consideration of a question which involves the charge
of a latitudinarian temper or conduct — liable to be made in every time
— and of all accusations, perhaps most liable to be unfairly made —
for the defect of popular judgements is want of the fair allowance which
grows from just discrimination. As we would not, however, for a
moment have it inferred, that we should wish to sugg-est any indul-
gence for the error opposed to that for which Taylor was falsely cen-
sured, we may briefly digress so far, as to draw some distinction be-
tween the two. Every observing man, who has some acquaintance with
the educated portion of society, and who has been habituated to ob-
serve the moral and intellectual habits of men, will have often had
occasion to notice two classes of minds, constituted oppositely in vari-
ous degrees, though, for brevity, we may here describe their several
extremes. Of these, the one may be described as exclusively theore-
tical; the other as exclusively practical. The one is uniformly govern-
ed by habits, maxims, and time-ruled cases, and proceeds without
ever reverting to the first principles of things; the other dwells alto-
gether in the reason, and is always reverting to primary laws, and
original foundations. Of these, the first must be admitted to be the
safer mode of error; because to preserve irrespectively, is safer than
to trust the course of things to the ablest speculative interference.
But both, in excluding a wide range of observation or principle, are
essentially wrong in their understanding of every subject which has
any object. The one is a bigot, and the other a mere projector: the
bigot in his narrow scope considers only what is before him, but he may
be useful and even wise in his practical capacity ; the theorist is nearly
sure to be wrong, so soon as he may chance to come into contact wit!/
the realities of life; for, though his logic may be quite correct, the

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR, 577

habits of his mind will, in most instances, exclude those facts of com-
mon observation which are the real data in every question of any
practical weight. In truth, it must be considered, that in the practi-
cal workings of social life, there are processes of our nature, far too pro-
found for any reach of mere speculation, and only to be taken into
account effectively, by a comprehensive estimate of the habits, pre-
judices, and errors of the mass of mankind, as elements of chief im-
portance ; and there is no question of social or ecclesiastical polity to be
treated like a metaphysical theory from which may be deduced a clear
and systematic rationale of all the grounds for legislative interposition.
The person who undertakes this is the latitudinarian, — he who irrespec-
tively resists improvement is a bigot. A mind such as Taylor's, was too
comprehensive and acute for either case — his commanding, pervading,
and penetrating intellect, dispelled the cloud which blinds the reason
— while the rich development of his imagination and moral perceptions
and capacities placed before him the true aspect of human realities;
the wide sea of life, with its mutable breezes and entangled cross-cur-
rents ; its mingled good and evil, folly and wisdom, vice and virtue,
truth and error; which are the great moving forces, acting with in-
finite diversity of opposition and combination. Such men, while they
must be indulgent in their allowance for the errors of a being essen-
tially liable to err, will, for the same reasons, exercise caution in the
adoption or abandonment of opinions or systems of opinion. But in
truth it is by a providential arrangement in the social economy, that
the crowd hold their opinions by the safer operation of habit, rather
than by reason, which would demand a far larger amount of natura.
intellect, as well as of intellectual cultivation, than consists with man's
condition or the end of his present state of being. But it is also for
this reason that men such as Taylor are very liable to be misjudged
by the world. His biographers observe, that the suspicion of an in-
clination to the Romish church attended him through life. Heber
observes, that the favour of Laud would of itself have exposed him to
suspicion. We cannot here enter on the vindication of Laud. But it is
a reflection naturally connected with the subject of these remarks, that in
times of violent controversy, it is a familiar fact — as it would be an ob-
vious inference from the preceding statements — that one of the most
common missiles of controversy or of party, is the imputation of ex-
treme errors. Such imputations are often pernicious and always unjust;
unjust because false and mischievous ; because they often happen to turn
away the attention of the accuser and accused from fatal errors, which
should constitute the true point of discussion between them. To take
an illustration from the subject: if a person inclined to compromise so
far with the Romish church, as to conform in some points of form or
discipline, not considered on either side as essentially connected with
doctrine, should be accused of a leaning to popery ; it is evident that
while this wrongful accusation continues to be enforced and defended,
that the accused is not merely assailed in an impregnable position, but
that the question of real and vast importance is meanwhile passed
without notice ; that is, to what extent the preservation of mere forms
or of discipline may happen to be essential to the maintenance of
essentials. In revolutionary times, when such questions and such ac-
H. 2 o Ir.

cusations are ever sure to arise, clever persons of shallow judgment are
ever tending to compromise on the very ground here noticed ; and from
the inveteracy of their opponents, their error escapes a full and direct
exposure; the real question is never stated. It seems never to enter
the minds of liberal reasoners, that though the adoption or rejection
of a mere form may be harmless, or even beneficial — that a concession
may be most fatal, in the direction of some prevalent current of human
passion and prejudice. The question goes indeed beyond the depth of
the intelligence mostly engaged in such controversies : it is not what is
abstractedly the value of such a compromise, but considering human
nature and the actual state of opinion, what will be its effect. Theo-
logians, in the plenitude of their erudition, too little recollect that all
such external arrangements have the complicated workings of our
nature for their sole object,

We have dwelt on these reflections, because we conceive it to
have too much real importance to very many persons in this country,
where such intimacies and such mistakes are not uncommon. In
such cases, the moral we would urge is; — not that there should be
less delicacy or less conciliation, or a less careful tact in the avoiding
of useless controversy; but, we would recommend a considerate for-
bearance from the common and always mischievous precipitation, by
which such kindly and discreet liberality is confounded with that
vicious liberalism, which, when justly considered, reduces itself to the
entire want of principle in creed or party

From this digression, we turn to our narrative. On this period of
his life, Taylor's biographers have ascertained few facts. His advance-
ment to the rectory of Uppingham, soon after the election to his fellow-
ship, is thought to have drawn him away to a considerable extent from
the university and its pursuits. With all his tastes and capacities for
studious engagements, a spirit s*o ardent, and so largely diffused with
the active impulses of the breast, is little likely to have lingered inter
sylvas academi longer than the first moment which might offer a field
of public and productive exertion. His fellowship was, however, in
1 639, terminated by marriage, having on the 27th of May, in that year,
married Phcebe Langsdale, whose mother, there is reason to believe,
was at the time a widow residing in the parish of Uppingham. It is
also known that her brother was a physician, resident at Gainsborough,
and afterwards at Leeds, where he died in 1638.*

Here we may easily conjecture an interval of such happiness as re-
sults from the quiet rotation of studies, spiritual avocations, and domes-
tic intercourse, for all of which the frame of Taylor's mind was so
pre-eminently adapted. Such intervals have no history, save that
tender and often painful record which they find in the after-seasons of
trial and adversity, when they star the distance of past days with a
calm and holy light, which no future short of heaven can restore.
Such happiness and such reminiscences we can conceive for Taylor,
who had truly " fallen on evil days." It is to these periods of trial
mostly, and always in a measure to the rough and toilsome emergencies
and difficulties of active life, that we are indebted for the broken and

* Heber, from Bonne v's MS. Note.

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 579

defective notices which remain of the lives of the eminent men of this
period ; and but too often, even in the relation of the acts of the indi-
vidual, there is little to be related more than the historical outline of
those events to which these acts mainly belong'. Of the fierce and eventful
controversies which so soon broke in upon the peace of Uppingham,
as of every other corner of the three kingdoms, we have repeatedly
had to relate. The church and the monarchy were assailed by those
awful and destructive commotions, which wyere not to cease until they
had overthrown the existing order of things. Among those who
earliest entered the field of controversy was Taylor. He was among
the first of those who joined king Charles at Oxford; and it was " by
his majesty's command" that he soon after published a treatise of
" Episcopacy asserted against the Acephali, old and new." The work
was at the time little noticed; for the controversy was to be decided
by arms, before it should be discussed by the less effectual warfare of
dialectics. But it found notice and approval among those who were
afterwards to lead the argument; and king Charles, not inferior to
any of his bishops in his judgment of the merits of a theological argu-
ment, showed his satisfaction by conferring upon the author the degree
of D.D. by his legal mandate — an honour lessened, it is true, by the
abuse of this royal privilege, to such an extent that the heads of the
colleges felt themselves bound to remonstrate against the numerous
and somewhat indiscriminate admissions to academical degrees : but at
the time they served to compensate for the king's inability to confer any
other reward than such honours. His powers to reward were circum-
scribed indeed, while the injuries inflicted, or likely to be inflicted,
upon his adherents, were great and imminent: the parliament, which
trampled on the tyranny of kings with a fiercer tyranny of its own,
spared no worth, or respected no right, if it were but qualified with
the taint of loyalty. Taylor was deprived of the possession of his
living of Uppingham, though there seems to be reason to doubt the
fact of its actual sequestration. As the consequence was to him the
same in either case, we shall not waste space here by entering upon
the question, of which the main consideration will be found in the lives
written by Heber and Bonney, as doubtless also in others.

Taylor had no duty, therefore, to interfere with the appropriation
of his time. That which now mainly occupied him was in the
flying court and camp of the king, to which, about this period,
he was attached as one of the royal chaplains. This appointment
he had obtained about the time of his institution to Uppingham;
and it is supposed that it was in the autumn of 1642 that he left
it to attend the court, when the king, after the battle of Edgehill,
was on his route to Oxford. At Oxford there were at this time
assembled, on the same occasion, many of the most illustrious per-
sons of their time, for every virtue and attainment. We have
already had to describe the preaching of Usher before the court in
this interval. Hammond also was there; and amid his fears and
privations, Taylor did not at least want that consolation so valuable to
those who are susceptible of the intercourse of thought, the conversa
tion and sympathy of spirits of his own elevated order. To a man like
Taylor, the loss of property, or the fears of approaching troubles,

580 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

would indeed only serve, by the excitement of such external circumstan-
ces, as the means of calling forth higher powers of reflection, and loftier
capacities of fortitude and endurance. But he had been severely
visited about the same time, by afflictions far more trying to good and
noble hearts — the loss of one of his sons, who died in the spring of the
same year ; " nor," says Bishop Heber, " did the mother long survive
her infant."* We quote the bishop's words, because on looking atten-
tively through Mr Bonney's memoir, which he here cites as authority,
not only is there no mention of the first Mrs Taylor's death, but, on
carefully turning* over the entire memoir, it is apparent that Mr Bon-
ney was not aware of the fact, as he speaks throughout, under the im-
pression that Taylor was not married again, and that this lady was the
mother of his seven children, and sharer of his subsequent troubles and
promotion. The bishop, however, not only cites Mr Jones' MS.
account, but confirms the fact by the authority of lady Wray, who,
with Mr Jones of Henro, in the county of Down, were descendants in
the fifth degree from the bishop and his second wife. Mr Bonney,
indeed, draws a fallacious inference, from the number of his children,
that the first wife was yet alive at a subsequent period; but the answer
is, that three at least of those children were born of the second mar-
riage.

As one of the royal retinue, Taylor is supposed to have accompanied
the court in the frequent campaigns and expeditions of king Charles
during the three following years, in which he kept his head-quarters
at Oxford, and took his turns with Usher and Dr Sheldon as preacher.
But after the fatal field of Naseby, the royal prospects were over-
cast, and the king- became a fugitive, from which time the principal
persons of his retinue were under the necessity of seeking their safety
where they might best find it. During this uncertain period, Taylor
appears to have experienced some adventures and wanderings, ob-
scurely hinted at by his biographers. In 1643, a letter to his brother-
in-law, which we shall here give as we find it in Mr Bonney's book,
makes it seem likely that he was then, with his mother-in-law and
children, at lodgings in London.

" Deare Brother, — Thy letter was most welcome to me, bringing
the happy news of thy recovery. I had notice of thy danger, but
watched for this happy relation, and had layd wayte with lloyston to
enquire of Mr Rumbould. I hope I shall not neede to bid thee be
carefull for the perfecting of thy health, and to be fearful of a relapse:
though I am very much, yet thou thyself art more concerned in it.
But this I will remind thee of, that thou be infinitely [careful] to
perform to God those holy promises which I suppose thou didst make
in thy sicknesse; and remember what thoughts thou hadst then, and
beare them along upon thy spirit all thy lifetime ; for that which was
true then is so still, and the world is really as vain a thing as thou
didst then suppose it. I durst not tell thy mother of thy danger
(though I heard of it), till, at the same time, I told her of thy recovery.
Poore woman! she was troubled and pleased at the same time; but

* See Bonney, p. 18, as cited by Heber.

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 581

your letter did determine her. I take it kindly that thou hast writt
to Bowman. If I had been in condition, you should not have beene
troubled with it; but, as it is, both thou and I must be content. Thy
mother sends her blessing to thee and her little Mally; so doe I, and
my prayers to God for you both. Your little cozens are your servants ;
and I am

" Thy most affectionate and endeared brother,

" Jer. Taylor.

"November 24, 1643.

" To my very dear brother, Dr Langsdale, at bis Apothecary's
House in Gainsborough." *

From an expression in this letter, it is inferred by Heber that he
was at the time suffering from distressad circumstances ; and that it
was written from London, as Royston was a printer and bookseller
in Ivy Lane, who afterwards published many of Taylor's writings.

Taylor's first retirement from the royal army is supposed to have
been occasioned by the attraction of an attachment; and the most
authoritative testimonies lead to the conclusion that, in 1644, his
second marriage was contracted with a lady in Wales. He had become
acquainted with this lady during his first visit to Wales. She was a
Mrs Jobanna Bridges. She possessed a small estate at Mandinam,
and is reputed to have been a natural daughter of the king's, when
prince of Wales and under the corrupt tutelage of Buckingham.
The fact of the estate is stated by Heber, on the authority of Mr
Jones' manuscripts, and in some degree confirmed by the marriage
settlement of Taylor's third daughter, in which the mother, who sur-
vived the bishop, " settles on her daughter the reversion of the Man-
dinam property ."f From a letter of lady Wray, Heber states that
she is said to have possessed a fine person, which is (he says) confirmed
by her portrait, still preserved by the family, which exhibits a striking
resemblance to her father.

Of the events of his life, during this period of confusion, we have
already intimated that there is no certain register. In one of his occa-
sional attendances on the king, he was taken prisoner, in avictory gained
by the parliamentary troops, before the castle of Cardigan, in February,
1 644. To this, and we think to the recent circumstance of his mar-
riage, the following extract from the dedication to his " liberty of pro-
phesying," seems to allude when he tells his patron, Lord Hatton, " that
in the great storm which dashed the vessel of the church all in pieces,
he had been cast on the coast of Wales; and, in a boat, thought to
have enjoyed that rest and quietness which, in England, in a far
greater, he could not hope for. Here," he continues, "I cast anchor;
and thinking to ride safely, the storm followed me with so impetuous
violence, that it broke a cable, and I lost my anchor. And here again,
I was exposed to the mercy of the sea, and the gentleness of an ele-
ment that could neither distinguish things nor persons. And but,
that He who stilleth the raging of the sea, and the noise of his waves,
and the madness of his people, had provided a plank for me, I had been

* Bonney, p. 15. — Heber, I. 36. f Heber, I. 55.

582 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

lost to ail the opportunities of content or study. But I know not
whether I have been more preserved by the courtesies of my friends, or
the gentleness and mercies of a noble enemy. ' ' O/ ydg (idoZaoot iraj-
iiyov ou ttjv ruyovtfav <pi\av$goiria,v ij/^/V; avd^otvrsg ycfcg 'xu^dv KgofcXaSovro
LTANTA2 'HMA2, dia rov btrbv rot epscirurc*., xa.1 did to ■vj/up^os*' "* In this
there appears to be a close, though figurative, sketch of the course and
circumstances of his fortune, during the interval to which it applies ;
the temporary secession from the perils of his court-life — the seem-
ingly secure provision for domestic quiet and competence, which such
a marriage must, under ordinary circumstances, have secured, and the
sudden interruption, alleviated by the " mercies of a noble enemy."
While, as Heber justly observes, the Greek quotation seems to imply
that he had numerous fellows in misfortune. It also intimates the
kindness of their treatments; with respect to the particular circum-
stances, and the duration of his confinement, there is nothing more
certain than conjecture. It seems only to be inferred with strong
probability, that from Colonel Langham, the governor of Pembroke
Castle, and the members of the parliamentary committee for that dis-
trict, he met with the humane attention which was due to his character.
We should here make some mention of the noble person, who was,
during this interval, his chief friend and patron, Christopher Hatton,
afterwards Lord Hatton, of Kirby, with whom he had formed a friend-
ship during his residence at Uppingham. To this nobleman his
" Defence of Episcopacy,'' with several of his earlier works, were
dedicated. Of him also, a passage quoted by Heber, from Clar-
endon, says, " a person who, when he was appointed comptroller of the
king's household, possessed a great reputation, which, in a few years,
he found a way to diminish." Upon this Heber justly and pointedly
observes, at some length, on the uncertainty of such statements, coun-
terbalanced, as they so often are on either side, by the friendship and
enmity of parties and rivals. It would not, he says, be " easy to find
a more splendid character in history, than is ascribed by the hope or
gratitude of Taylor to the nobleman, of whom the historian speaks
thus slightingly:" the bishop hints, however, the deduction which may
be made for the style of eulogy, which debased the dedications of that
period: but admits, that Hatton must have had some pretensions to
learning or talent, on grounds which we think have sufficient interest
to be stated with a little more detail.

Sir Christopher had been made knight of the bath, at the corona-
tion of Charles I., and was one of the very first who came to his aid
with hand and fortune, at the commencement of the civil wars. In
1640, he was member of the parliament which then met, and had the
sagacity to foresee the destruction of ecclesiastical structures, which
would be likely to take place as a result of their political proceedings:
he urged Dugdale, the well-known antiquary, to visit and endeavour to
secure sketches and descriptions of the principal churches through
England: for the execution of this useful suggestion we quote the

* And the barbarians showed us no small kindness ; for they kindled a fire and
received us every one, because of the present rain and because of the cold. — Acts
xxviii. 2.

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 583

authority cited by Mr Bonney. In the summer of 1641, Dugdale,
accompanied by William Sedgwick, a skilful arms-painker, " repaired
first to the cathedral of St Paul, and next to the abbey of Westminster,
and there made exact draughts of all the monuments in each of them,
copied the epitaphs according to the very letter, and all the arms in the
windows or cut in stone. All of which, being done with great exactness,
Mr Dugdale rode to Peterborough, Ely, Norwich, Lincoln, Newark-
upon- Trent, Beverley, Southwell, Kingston-upon-Hull, York, Selby,
Chester, Lichfield, Tamworth, Warwick, and the like, in all those
cathedral, collegiate, conventual, and divers other churches, wherein
any tombs and monuments were to be found, to the end that the
memory of them might be preserved for future and better times."
Fasti, Oxon. p. 694. As every reader of English history is aware, the
suggestion of Hatton and the industry of Dugdale were nothing- less
than seasonable. The storm of sacrilege was not slow to break forth
over the most sacred and venerable antiquities of the country.

The duration of Taylor's confinement cannot be ascertained, and we
shall not waste space with conjecture. Neither can we pretend to
reconcile the apparent discrepancies, by which we are from time to
time perplexed in the unavoidably vague narrations of our authorities ;
it is enough to observe, that such difficulties must always occur in the
want of those details which cannot be fairly the subject of conjecture.
After his liberation it probably was, that he found his means of sub-
sistence so far reduced, as to drive him to the necessity of obtaining
sustenance by teaching. Deprived previously of his church prefer-
ment, he was, on his liberation, probably compelled to make a large
composition for the preservation of a small estate. It is, however,
certain, that he joined with William Nicholson, afterwards bishop of
Gloucester, and William Wyatt, afterwards a prebendary of Lincoln,
in a school kept at Newton-hall, a house in the parish of Lanfihangel;
in which, according to Wood, as quoted by Bonney and Heber, several
youth were most " loyally educated " and sent to the universities,
though a tradition, said to be yet current in that part of Wales,
affirms that Taylor taught school from place to place wheresoever he
could find means. There is, indeed, nothing inconsistent in supposing
both accounts to be true, as the latter may have led the way to the
first mentioned; nevertheless, on mere oral traditions, there' is no
reliance to be placed, further than as simply indications of some origi-
nating fact, and as corroborative of more authoritative testimony. So
far, they may have decided weight, because a testimony of no indepen-
dent value may by an obvious law of probable reasoning be a valuable
corroboration.

Of the scholars, few have arrived at the distinction of a historical
record. Among those mentioned by Taylor's biographers, Judge Powel
is recollected, as having borne a distinguished part afterwards in the
famous trial of the seven bishops. " A new and easy institution of
grammar " was one of the results of this passage of Taylor's life : it has
a Latin dedication by Wyatt, and one in English by himself. It is of
course a scarce book, a copy still exists in the library of Caius' college
Heber, who probably had seen it, mentions that it was most likely to
have been the work of Wyatt. This was published in 1647; and

584 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

shortly after, appeared his " Liberty of Prophesying," which bishop
Heber calls the most curious, and perhaps the ablest of Taylor's writ-
ings ; of its contents we shall hereafter offer some account : here we
shall only notice it, so far as it may be regarded as illustrative of the
general disposition and characteristic opinions of the writer. To have
published a work in favour of toleration, was, indeed, not merely to
think in advance of the time in which he lived, but to brave the spirit
of popular intolerance in one of its most imposing and dangerous
moods. Not only was religious persecution in one of its periods of full
and vigorous operation, but the principle of toleration was not yet
understood. So vigorous is the hold which the corruptions of pre-
judice and habit take of human nature, that, in the course of fifteen
centuries, it seems to have grown into an axiom of reason, that the
truth of God, was to be maintained by ways in every sense so opposed
to the plainest principles which he has revealed to his fallen and erring
creatures. And it is even a sad truth, that toleration has, even to the
present day, few to advocate it otherwise than on the false principle of
infidelity or latitudinarianism. It is to the praise of Taylor that he
maintained the truth without falling into any of those errors which
surround it on every side. Guarding against the admission of those
dangerous immunities, which some of the freethinking politicians of our
time would claim for the open dissemination of immorality and blasphemy
of every foul shade and form; he exposed the unfitness of legal co-
ercions and penalties, as the means of suppressing religious opinions,
with a force, and to an extent, which exposed him to the charge of ad-
vocating those tenets for which he simply claimed freedom from seve-
rities not warranted by the law of God. There was, indeed, not much
indulgence to be expected from the utmost liberality of his time ; as
Heber with great force reflects, " Even the sects who have themselves
under oppression exclaimed against their rulers, not as being perse-
cutors at all, but as persecuting those who professed the truth; and
each sect, as it obtained the power to wield the secular weapon,
esteemed it also a duty, as well as a privilege, not to bear the sword
in vain." The bishop also mentions, " a copy of the first edition, which
now lies before me, has its margin almost covered with manuscript
notes, expressive of doubt or disapprobation; and the commentator,
whoever he was, has subjoined at the end of the volume, ' Palleo metu
et vobis dico non omnibus.' His arguments, particularly in behalf of the
anabaptists, were regarded as too strenuous and unqualified; and the
opinions of the author himself having consequently fallen into suspicion,
he, in a subsequent edition, added a powerful and satisfactory explana-
tion of his previous language, and an answer to the considerations
which he had himself advanced, in apology for the opinions of those
sectaries."* It is only necessary to add in this place, that, notwith-
standing the general error which we have stated in these remarks,
there was at the particular juncture, some peculiar fitness for such an
argument. It was, in fact, one of those critical moments, when sorae-
thing like a temporary revulsion takes place in the balanced collisions
of party ; when, fearing and doubting each other, the thought of com-

* Heber, i. 45.

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 585

promise starts up, and seems for a moment to offer hopes of advantage.
As we have already noticed, the rival sects, which had conjointly found
their way to within a near grasp of ascendancy, began to see and feel
that they had more to fear from each other, than from the subdued
powers of the church and throne. A compromise with these fallen
powers would have promised, at least, an advantage of no small
weight; but with the inconsistency so common to popular prejudice,
each would have a bargain in which nothing essential was to be
allowed or yielded up. It was, indeed, simply an intrigue for political
victory; but it was one which must have given some effect to a for-
cible and eloquent argument for toleration.

About the same time, Taylor published a " Discourse concerning
Prayer Extempore," &c, of which the substance had been drawn up
by him formerly, on the occasion of the form of worship issued by the
parliamentary party, in 1643, under the known title of a " Directory,''
which we have frequently had occasion to mention. Some of his
arguments on this subject may be here offered, as containing a brief
view of the most essential portion of the argument. We may premise
so far as to say, on our own part, that there is a small portion of his
reasoning which we should somewhat modify, were we engag*ed in a
statement of the whole argument : we would say, that, in order to advo-
cate set forms of prayer, it is by no means essential (though it may be
imposed by the errors of an adversary,) to consider the question as
to the operation of the Spirit. And we cannot help thinking, that in
this very question, both parties have been misled from the perception of
some very simple truths, by this unnecessary complication. To deny
that every good gift cometh from the Father of lights — to say that
any grace, or gift, or any holy attribute, or manifestation of christian
mind, can exist independently of the power of God by his Spirit, we
would conceive to be contradictory to Scripture, and a denial of the
tenets of the chux'ch of England: to talk of miracles as affecting this
affirmation, is a foolish sophism. The ordinary operation of the Spirit
is simply a portion of the uniform, though unseen, agency of a power
that never ceases to be present or to act: it becomes a miracle only,
in fact, when the case is a visible exception to the ordinary course.
The power which works by actuating the affections and faculties must,
demonstrably, be only known as a natural agent, until we draw the more
correct inference from the direct affirmation of God, in his revelation.
It is for this reason that we consider both Taylor, and other very able
writers who have followed in his steps, to be not a little incautious on
this point, and adapted to give an advantage to their antagonists.
The extract, which we here offer, is, however, free from such a
charge.

" If all christian churches had one common liturgy, there were not
a greater symbol to testify, nor a greater instrument to preserve the
catholic communion ; and, in former ages, whenever a schism was
commenced, and that they called one another heretick, they not only
forsook to pray with one another, but they also altered their forms, by
interposition of new clauses, hymns, and collects, and new rites and
ceremonies ; only those parties that combined kept the same liturgy ;
and, indeed, the same forms of prayer were so much the instrument of

586 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

union, that it was the only ligament of their society, (for their creeds
I reckon as part of their liturgy, for so they ever were,) so that this may
teach us a little to guess, I will not say into how many churches, but
into how many innumerable atoms, and minutes of churches, those
christians must needs be scattered, who alter their forms according tc
the number of persons, and the number of their meetings ; every com-
pany having a new form of prayer at every convention. And this con-
sideration will not be in vain, if we remember how great a blessing
unity in churches is, and how hard to be kept with all the arts in the
world ; and how powerful everything is for its dissolution. But that a
public form of liturgy was the great instrument of communion in the
primitive church, appears in this, that the xadaigzog, or excommunica-
tion, was an exclusion, ' a communicatione orationis et conventus, et
omnis sancti commercii,' from the participation of the public meeting
and prayers ; and, therefore, the more united the prayer is, still it is
the greater instrument of union; the authority and consent, the public
spirit and common acceptation, are so many degrees of a more firm
and indissoluble communion." In this, and in the succeeding parts which,
in the course of a few years, he published on the same subject, Taylor's
object was evidently to convince all parties, that they might reconcile
their differences and unite in the fold of the same church. A union
which might, perhaps, be effected between most of the protestant
churches, if it were possible for men, constituted as man appears to be,
to avoid giving to forms and accidents, the place of vital and essential
principles; and to inferential tenets, upon which the best and holiest
men have differed and will differ, more importance than to those au-
thentic and primary doctrines, on which all christian churches which
have taken Scripture for their authority, have agreed. Nothing, in
truth, can be more illustrative of human "foolishness" than the aptitude
of sects to elevate their feelings, and narrow their views to the almost
exclusive contemplation of the little dogmas, upon which they stand
separate from other religious denominations. And yet this will,
upon strict examination, be found at the bottom of dissent : what ren-
ders it more palpable to those who observe extensively, is the fact,
that, within the very bosom of every church or sect, the differences of
every kind, among individuals, will be found to be as great as those
which separate the professions to which these remarks apply. We must,
indeed, admit, that there are sects altogether beyond the pale of com-
prehension; such as differ upon the main and fundamental tenets con-
cerning justification, must, of course, stand ever far apart. For this
reason, the socinian, whose doctrine sweeps clean away the entire
system of redemption; and the church of Rome, which, by the doctrine
of transubstantiation, places it upon a wholly different foundation,
cannot be included in the reproach of wide dissent on narrow or unes-
sential grounds. But we would, if we could, strongly impress the dis-
tinction to be drawn between speculative and metaphysical tenets, and
those which are simply and literally revelation. The one, though
grounded on the text of Scripture, rises into deductions beyond its
direct scope, and far above the level to which human reason has yet
succeeded in rising, so as to ensure certainty, which is by no means to
be measured by individual conviction. The other is the practical sub-

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 5S7

stance of ordinary piety, such as looking to Scripture as desig-ned for the
reasonable information of the humble followers of Christ, and such as
looking to common human nature, was evidently all that man is capable
of reaching. A single glance on the fluent and fiery controversialists
of any given tenet, is enough to show, that whether the doctrine is true
or not, its professor is not often more than the partisan. Bishop
Butler has beautifully pointed out, that a system, which is but part of
one more vast and comprehensive, must needs have many links of con-
nexion with the unknown whole, and these must necessarily offer inscru-
table and mysterious points to human ignorance. It is but too often
upon these dim and vague points, that human presumption seizes to
build high and subtle structures of theosophy : such, in every branch
of knowledge, has been the error of our reason : in natural philosophy,
facts come at last to demolish these proud edifices of error; but the
sophist, who anatomizes the being, and scrutinizes the counsels of God,
is at least safe in the remote and unfathomable depth which he pre-
tends to sound. On such questions, do we counsel a perfect abstinence
of reason? Certainly not, for it is not in man's nature: but we cannot
help urging that a broad distinction should be made between those
practical articles, which the gospel offers as articles of saving faith,
and those which are the growth of dogmatic theology. And that those
who are the guides of churches and sects, would well consider whether
a comprehensive unity in the visible church of Christ, beset as it is
with enmity on every side, is not more important than any secondary
question of discipline, form, or even of those articles of speculative
opinion, which, while they separate some, are in fact diffused through-
out the entire body of every church of any considerable extent.

As we have repeatedly intimated, there remains little trace of the
private history of Taylor, through the time over which these publica-
tions may be supposed to have been appearing. The school in which
he had taken part was probably broken up by the disturbances of the
time, or by his imprisonment ; and he was reduced to a state of much
difficulty, in which he appears to have been entirely thrown upon the
kindness of his friends. Of these the principal, at this period of his life,
was Richard Vaughan, earl of Carberry, a noble distinguished for his
virtue and ability, who had obtained celebrity in the Irish wars, and as
the chief commander for the king, in South Wales. He was univer-
sally known for the moderation of his character, and respected in every
party. After the battle of Marston Moor he was allowed to compound
on easy terms for his estate. He was first married to a daughter of
Sir John Altham, of Orbey, of whom Taylor has left a portrait in the
sermon which he composed for her funeral, which, says Heber, "belongs
rather to an angelic than a human character." The second was a lady
of celebrity more than historic, as she was the original of the " lady "
in Milton's " Comus." In a note, derived from Mr Bonney's MS.
notes, the bishop gives us the following interesting particulars: — " The
pictures of these two ladies are still at Golden Grove, and in good
preservation. That of the first, displays a countenance marked with
all the goodness and benignity, which might be expected from the
character which Taylor gives her ; the second has a much more lofty
and dignified air, such as might become the heroine in Comus. The

first lady Carberry left three sons and six daughters. Her eldest
son, Francis, Lord Vaughan, married Rachel, daughter of Thomas
Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, who survived her husband, and
afterwards became conspicuous in English history, as the heroic wife
and widow of William, lord Russell. A copy of Taylor's Essay on
Repentance, presented to her by the author, is now in the possession
of the Rev. Dr Swire, of Melsonby, near Richmond, Yorkshire.

With this family at Golden Grove, Taylor found, for several years,
a secure asylum, where he was enabled to pursue his learned labours,
and perform the duties of his calling as private chaplain, when they
were proscribed and suspended elsewhere. In this interval he pub-
lished his " Life of Christ, or the Great Exemplar," the first of his
writings which obtained considerable popularity, and which Heber
considers to have thus determined the character of his succeeding
works. His publications, for some years following, were entirely or
mainly devotional. Such, we are inclined to believe, was the native
temper of his mind; and had he not been cast in times so peculiarly
characterized by great and fundamental controversies, it is probable
that to such his pen would have been confined. Like all men of broad
and comprehensive intelligence, Taylor's understanding and affections
rested too strongly on principles and essentials, to have any impulses
to the mere discussion of controversy, or to increase division by unduly
aggravating- those small differences which are too apt to be the main
rallying points of popular prejudice. In the three following years, he
published a funeral sermon on the first lady Carberry; a course of
twenty-seven sermons ; and his " Holy Living and Dying-," both com-
posed at the desire of the same lady.

In 1654, he was provoked, by some unseasonable demonstrations
from the members of the Romish church, of triumph in the adversity
of the church of England, to review several of the chief topics of
difference between these two churches, for the purpose of selecting
the most decisive point. His choice was, we think, judicious, as he
seized on that, which if all other points were reconciled, must involve the
most wide, diametrical, and necessary difference which can be conceived
to exist between two churches professing to have a kindred source.
The title of the essay which contained his view is enough to convey all
that we should here venture to add — the " Real Presence and Spi-
ritual of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, proved against the Doc-
trine of Transubstantiation." It was dedicated " to Warner, bishop of
Rochester, a worthy and wise man, who, even in the times of general
distress, continued, from his scanty means, to assist the still deeper
poverty of Taylor."*

In the same year, his " Catechism for Children" was enlarged and re-
published with a preface, which, though according to Heber, "ostensibly
calculated (and perhaps intended) to conciliate the Protector in favour
of the persecuted church of England, as friendly to established govern-
ments, and more particularly to monarchy," contained expressions offen-
sive to that captious vigilance, with which a revolutionary government
must ever be upheld. He was in consequence committed to prison. The

* Heber, i. 61.

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 589

entire knowledge of the fact is derived from a letter of great interest
from the celebrated John Evelyn, which is published in the memoirs of
that famous scholar.

In the biography of Taylor's period, it would not be easy to dis-
cover a subject of more interest, than the incidents and progress of the
friendship between him and Evelyn. Yet, of these the record is slight
and imperfect, and, with little exception, is only to be drawn from the
few letters which are to be found of their correspondence through
many years.

Shortly after, 31st March, 1665, a letter of Evelyn's proves the fact,
that Taylor was a second time arrested, and, as before, confined in Chep-
stow Castle. The time was the same to which we have already adverted
more largely in the life of primate Usher, when Cromwell recommenced
the persecution of the episcopalian clergy, who had a little before ob-
tained a brief rest.

His confinement was short and unattended with severity. A letter
published in one of his works — Dens Justijicatus, and addressed to
Warner, Bishop of Rochester, — thus adverts to the circumstance : " I
now have that liberty that I can receive any letters and send any ; for
the gentlemen under whose custody I am, as they are careful of their
charges, so they are civil to my person."* On this Heber observes :
" His amiable manners, no less than his high reputation for talents
and piety, seem at all times to have impressed and softened those,
who were from political and polemical considerations most opposed to
him." The bishop also mentions, that " there is room for the suspicion
that his wife's estate was a second time largely drawn upon, for the
purpose of conciliating the ruling powers," and that these " last were
content to grant some degree of freedom to a learned and holy man
whom they had reduced to almost abject poverty."

The luxuriance of his genius was, in the meantime, not repressed, or
his christian zeal slackened by external circumstances. He completed his
course of sermons for the year, and produced a work entitled, " Unum
Necessarium; or the doctrine and practice of Repentance." In this work
he expressed himself on the doctrine of original sin, so as to expose himself
to the reproach of Pelagianism, and to give much alarm to the clergy.
Taylor endeavoured to flank his book with dedications and prefatory
explanations, which, of course, could have but slight effect. His friend
the bishop of Rochester expostulated with him in a letter not preserved.
Saunderson, who had been the regius professor of divinity in Oxford,
lamented his error with tears, and regretted that it could not be au-
thoritatively suppressed. Taylor did not sit quite passive under the
storm of reproach and reproof: he produced a "Further explication of
the Doctrine of Original Sin," in the form of a tract, with a dedica-
tion to the bishop of Rochester. This was sent to the bishop for cor-
rection and approval: the bishop was still unsatisfied, and refused to
revise a work which retracted nothing objectionable. This is ascertained
from a note of his reply, on the back of Taylor's letter, since published
for the first time, by Heber. The offer in this letter of Taylor to sup-
press this tract, as also to correct it if the bishop thought fit, " is,"

* Taylor's Works, vol. ix. ; quoted by Heber.

590 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

says Heber, " at least an evidence, that, if Taylor were wrong, he was
not unwilling to be instructed ; and that the error of his opinions was
not rendered more offensive by a self-confident and dogmatical temper."
" With such a disposition," he adds, " he might err, but he could hardly
be a heretic." The letters from Evelyn in connection with this matter
prove that not only was Evelyn himself a convert to his friend's opi-
nions, but that the alarm which was excited among the orthodox clergy
arose not so much from the supposed danger of the new doctrine thus
advanced, as from the harm and scandal to which their persecuted
church would be exposed, if on account of its novelty, there were a
colour given to the charge of Pelagianism so often brought against it
as receiving support from the writings of one of its most distinguished
champions.

From the letter of Taylor above referred to, which bears date Novem-
ber 17th, 1665, it is evident he was then free, and at his house at
Mandinam, and as his letter to Warner, from which we have extracted
a sentence as to his treatment while there, ascertains that he was in
Chepstow Castle in the middle of September, the period of his con-
finement is thus computed by Heber to have been from May to
October 1665.

During the next two years we can mainly trace our illustrious subject
by occasional references in Evelyn's Diary, or by letters addressed by
him to that celebrated antiquary, and printed in the Memoir of him al-
ready referred to. He appears to have varied a general residence at
Golden Grove in South Wales with occasional visits to London when
his limited means permitted the latter; and to have found himself under
the necessity of accepting pecuniary assistance of a permanent nature
from that good man, and, for occasional periods, from other friends.
Being much affected by the death of two children — both boys, and of an
interesting age, from smallpox and fever, he appears in 1657 to have
left Wales and taken up his abode in the metropolis, where he "offici-
ated to a small and private congregation of Episcopalians," and rejoiced
in the occasional society of Evelyn and other friends, advancing in the
preparation and republication of various works during his hours of lei-
sure, as well as wielding a controversy with various opponents — and
chiefly with two presbyterian clergymen — who impugned his favourite
theory as to the probable limitations of the generally accepted doctrine
of the universally damnatory consequences of original sin.

In January, 1658, we find him in London; but so uncertain are all
traces of detail at this period of his life, that all we can tell the reader
is, that he was again a prisoner, and in the Tower. The indiscretion
of Royston had ventured so far as to offend the known prejudices of
the uppermost party, by prefixing a print of Christ in the attitude of
prayer, to his " collection of offices." A recent act of Cromwell's par-
liament had prohibited representations of this nature as scandalous and
idolatrous. He seems, however, to have been soon released by the strong
representations of Evelyn in his favour. By the following entry, we
trace him to March. " March 7th. To London to hear Dr. Taylor
in a private house, on xiii. Luke 23, 24. After the sermon followed
the blessed communion," &e. There is some reason to suspect thai
the commitment of Taylor may have been irregular, at least on some

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR.

591

subordinate authority, as Heber mentions in one of his notes that no
traces of any order to this purpose appear in the minutes of the privy
council. To account for this, he thinks it necessary to resort to the
supposition that " in those arbitrary times, the committees and infe-
rior agents of government exercised the power of imprisonment." In
the same note he gives a letter written by Evelyn to the lieutenant of
the Tower, which seems to involve such a probability. That Taylor's
presence in London was still occasional, is inferred from the rareness
of these notices of Evelyn's, and we think the inference not to be
avoided : from this there is little if any deduction to be made on the
consideration of the private nature of such occasions. It is generally
indeed admitted by historical writers, that Cromwell was himself dis-
inclined to measures of intolerance: our views of human nature as con-
firmed by historical precedent, would incline us to a similar belief:
the sagacious usurper, who is raised to power by the prejudices of
faction and the delusions of the people, is seldom quite sincere in his
attachment to the violent moving principles by which he has been
raised, and by which he may be reversed ; the sooner he can allay the
fluctuation of the waves, it will be his interest ; and it is indeed thus
that the extreme of licentious liberty so often terminates in the oppo-
site of despotism. But Cromwell did not live to attain this consum-
mation ; the revolution which placed him on the seat of the British
monarchy was yet to be completed by the exertions of his extraordi-
nary vigilance, resolution and sagacity. The people of England had
not been converted, but overwhelmed : and years of wise and successful
government were wanting to set him free from the championship of
fanaticism. The independents were the main column of his throne;
the presbyterians, though they favoured his government, were far
less certain, and though they were less formidable by their relations
with the state and army, yet held a far larger base in the mind of the
country. Jealous too of the influence, power, and favour of the inde-
pendents, they showed many symptoms of a restless disposition to press
upward and break in upon the actual circle of his power. It was
therefore a subject of the most anxious care and watchfulness to give
these ambitious and powerful parties no common causes of discontent.
Hence, while he endeavoured to gain the utmost possible extent of
goodwill, by the most unfettered licentiousness of conscience, in every
direction not immediately offensive to any prevalent party, he felt him-
self compelled to the utmost stretches of tyranny to the episcopal
churches. Such a state of things well accounts for the clandestine
meetings of the members of the church of England, as well as for the
little record which can be traced of them. It indeed also helps to ex-
plain the difficulty which we have noticed above on the subject of im-
prisonments apparently unwarranted. Cromwell was frequently com-
pelled to act on private information or suspicion, and when it suited his
purpose, showed no respect to the forms of state. He might desire to
put a suspected loyalist out of the way for a few weeks without betray-
ing him to the fanaticism of men like Harrison and Desborough, or the
" three or four precious souls standing at his elbow," who were far more
anxious for a spiritual tyranny of their own imagination, than for the
power and safety of their master.

592 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

But the time had arrived which has left to Ireland the high privi-
lege of numbering this excellent divine among her worthies. During
some of his visits to London, he formed an acquaintance with lord Con-
way, who had been active in the service of the late king, and, according
to Mr. Bonney's just conjecture, who was probably among the royalists
who attended on his occasional ministry in London. This nobleman,
feeling for the risks which Taylor incurred in the city, and possibly anx-
ious to secure his services in the vicinity of his own extensive posses-
sions, made him a proposal of which the nature can be inferred from the
letter which he wrote on the occasion. This letter is imperfect from
mutilation, a circumstance justly regretted by Heber, as he observes that
the subject of usury is treated in it more rationally than was to be ex-
pected from a writer of his time.

Taylor felt a natural reluctance to quit the land of his birth and the
home of so many good friends and endearing associations ; but the
attraction of new prospects is strong to one whose life has been always
a combat with difficulties ; and the prospects which now perhaps
awakened his imagination were not without reasonable and strong foun-
dation.

By the strong interest that was thus exerted for him, by the danger-
ous and unsettled condition of the church in England, and by the pros-
pects of peace and competence, Taylor was, however reluctantly, induced
to consent to the wishes of the earl of Conway, and accept of a lecture-
ship in Lisburn. A house was provided for him on lord Conway's
estate near the mansion of Portmore, a splendid and princely edifice,
after a plan by Inigo Jones, and of which the stables alone now remain.
Taylor is said to have divided his residence between Lisburn and this
place. Here his time was divided between his lectures and preaching,
and the earnest prosecution of his elaborate and anxious work, the
" Dactor Dubitantium:" and with all his manifest disadvantages, it is im
possible not to agree with Heber in viewing it as the happiest part of
his life. Away from the painted shadows and illusive hopes which con-
stitute the sum and substance of the troubled passing stream of the
world, free to converse with self, nature and God, to meditate on the
interests and hopes of the eternal world, and labour for the kingdom of
Christ and the true welfare of mankind : such a state was, to one of
Taylor's intensely active spirit, equivalent to an approach to that higher
state in which the cares and sorrows of this fleeting scene may be for-
gotten, in such a state, it is true, none can be long suffered to remain
without many and painful interruptions ; but it is to be hoped at least,
that those cares which are all connected with important duties, and with
the exercises of the highest spiritual graces, are to be met with calmer
fortitude, and more pure and strenuous labour, by those to whom it is
thus allowed to gather strength and spirit in pious and contemplative
retirement. Of some such frame of spirit Taylor's letters bear pleasing
evidence. They at the same time curiously convey the strong indica-
tion of that interest which the remote noise of life carries into the
" loopholes of retreat," — a sense wholly distinct from the painful self-
interestedness of those who are involved in the strife ; and which, while
it is not unpleasantly tinged with a softened gleam of hopes and wishes,
is elevated by high affections, and soothed by the ordinary effect whicl

remoteness and isolation produce. The clash and din of human pursuits
melt as it were into the murmur of the stream of ages, and the lapsing
current of human things. But we are castle-building in Lough Neagh
and Lough Beg : like some one of Hazlitt's table-talkers, we keep good
company, and forget ourselves.

From the state of tranquil happiness which we have been assigning
to Portmore, we are obliged reluctantly to make some considerable de-
ductions. His means were far from that state of independence which is
so permanently essential to comfort and peace of spirit : and he was
compelled to receive the pension which the good and generous Evelyn
still continued to pay, though from a diminished fortune. Taylor was
also assailed by malice : a person of the name of Randy, a general agent
residing in the neighbourhood, became jealous of the respect and kind-
ness of which Taylor quickly became the general object. This chican-
ing miscreant felt his reptile self-importance wounded by the honour
shown to one whose poverty he considered as the lowest demerit ; and
whose high virtues and noble understanding were beyond his compre-
hension. Nor was his eager malice slow to hunt out a vulnerable point :
it was, he thought, enough to send information to the Irish privy coun-
cil, that Taylor was a disaffected character, and had used the sign of the
cross in baptism. Taylor was incapable of bringing home to his mind
the small springs of party, and "the little motives which so often govern
the acts of councils and cabinets, and could not entertain any serious
apprehension, though his friends were deeply alarmed.

The fears of Taylor and his good friends were, however, to be of
short duration. He was brought to Dublin by a warrant directed to
the governor of Carrickfergus : but he was subjected to no annoyance
further than a fatiguing and harassing journey in very bad weather, of
which the consequence was a severe fit of illness upon his arrival. He
was thus, perhaps, saved from any further proceeding, as it is likely that
during the interval of his indisposition, the members of the council had
time to obtain more correct information, and a view of the matter more
consistent with the real characters of the parties : Heber thinks that his
illness was made a plea for " letting him off more easily."

Among the Irish peasantry, he was at the same time become an ob-
ject of respect amounting to veneration ; and evidently lived on terms of
the kindliest intercourse with them. This most creditable and praise-
worthy circumstance appears to have been tortured by the high party
prejudices of the Cromwellians into the old charge of a leaning to
popery. This calumny he is mentioned to have complained of in his
" Letters to persons who have changed their religion ; " which, says He-
ber, " though not now published, appear to have been written at this
time.'' The only work which he published in this year was the " Ephe-
sian Matron," a story told by Petronius, and introduced into a previous
work, the " Holy Living and Dying," from which Mr. Bonney thinks
it to have been now extracted by the bookseller.

Taylor visited London early in 1660, with the design, it is supposed, to
give the last revision to his " Ductor Dubitantium," then in the press :
the thoughtful reader will easily conjecture a, variety of inducements
common to every man under similar circumstances, and from which
we cannot see the necessity of assuming Taylor to have been altogether

ii. 2 p Ir.

exempt. Besides, the natural desire which a man of letters, and a
man of many strong affections, must ever feel to visit the centre of
literary resort, and the scene of many ties of regard and respect:
the moment was pregnant with vast interest in every way for a known
loyalist of his reputation, and old connexion with the court. His
journey, says Heber, " was as well-timed as if he was in the secret of
Monk's intentions." Of these intentions a general surmise pervaded
the kingdom, and was, as sometimes occurs, more lively in places
more remote from the centre. The people formed opinions from their
earnest wishes, and from a common feeling of the tendency of events
not beyond the reach of popular common sense — while they were un-
impressed by several expedients with which Monk disguised his inten-
tions from those who might be supposed to watch him most narrowly.
It is thus that those who are nearest and most concerned are often
the last to divine what is to come.

On the 24th April, 1660, the day before the meeting of that par-
liament which, in a few days, restored the kingdom, there was a meet-
ing of the loyalists of London and its environs, who issued a declara-
tion of the sentiments expressive of their confidence in Monk. Among
the signatures to this declaration, was that of Jeremy Taylor. He
was thus placed in the most advantageous point of view before the
king and his advisers: and with pretensions to notice not exceeded by
those of any other member of his profession ; the splendour of his re-
putation both as a preacher and writer; the exalted worth of his
character; his signal piety; the devotion with which he had served
the late king, and the persecutions he had suffered in consequence of his
well approved loyalty, were all matters too notorious to be overlooked;
nor had the moment yet arrived when Charles, with the proverbial
ingratitude of princes, felt privileged to overlook past merits. The
shortlived ebullition of royal gratitude lasted long enough for the
exaltation of Taylor; to whose claims we should have added one the
most likely to be serviceable, that he had gained the respect and ap-
probation even of his enemies. A motive of a different kind, though
not less a tribute to his worth, is thought by Heber or some of his
authorities, to have influenced the generosity of Charles — he was as
anxious to remove the christian moralist, as Cromwell to remove the
loyalist : if so, he could not have fallen upon a better expedient, than
to improve upon the Protector's example and send the subject whose
virtues were sufficient to overawe an usurped throne, and a licentious
court, to Ireland. How far the dedication of his great work may have
had its share is little worth computing, as it is morally improbable
that either Charles, or any one about him, ever spent a second thought
on the matter ; and finally, to say what we think, we presume that the
only moving influence was the first impulse of the restored monarch to
give satisfaction to those whose office of restorers was not quite con-
cluded before Taylor's appointment to the Bishoprick of Down and
Connor. This took place on the 6th August, 1650, a little more than
two months from the king's arrival, when he was nominated by the
privy seal, and immediately after by the influence of the Duke of
Ormonde elected vice-chancellor of the University of Dublin.

This appointment was not unsatisfactory to Taylor, whose affections

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 595

had already been strongly called forth to Ireland and its people, whom
he loved, and who returned his regard: there he had passed the most
calm and settled years of his life — his family was already there and like
himself won to the place. His promotion was still not unattended with a
host of disadvantages and difficulties; the Irish church was yet in a
state of disorganization ; its revenues dilapidated and its order and disci-
pline dissolved and disarrayed. The state of the university was no less
ruinous ; the Cromwellian government had both seized upon its estates,
of which large portions had been alienated, and obtruded unfit persons
into its fellowship, by arbitrary appointments or irregular elections.
There was at the time of Taylor's appointment, not one fellow or
scholar who had been legally elected. Taylor proposed, as the only
practicable course under such circumstances, that he, the archbishop
of Dublin, and the new provost appointed by the crown, shoidd be
impowered to elect seven senior fellows. The Marquess of Ormonde,
however, was reluctant to suffer a power which he considered to be
placed in his own hands, to devolve to any other authority; but still
considering Taylor's proposal as substantially the more expedient
procedure, he desired that he and the provost would recommend five
persons, who might be appointed by himself, as minister of the crown
in Ireland. Such was the course adopted ; it presented an opportunity
to Taylor of providing for his friend Dr Sterne. This person was in
fact incapacitated by marriage as the statutes then stood: but Taylor
pleaded for him the difficulty of finding persons qualified by their
learning to fill such a station. Thus he had the satisfaction of
obtaining for his friend a station of honourable independence suited to
his tastes and acquirements. By the statement of Carte, Sterne
appears to have been connected with the university : he was living in a
house which belonged to it, and was largely acquainted with its con-
stitution and affairs, so that Taylor was justified in the representation,
that his experience was indispensable for their purpose. The other
appointments were Joshua Cowley, Richard Singard, William Vincent,
and Patrick Sheridan: these appointments formed the nucleus for
the restoration of our university. The chancellor could in virtue of
his office give them the necessary degrees ; but their power as a legal
corporation to exercise an ownership over the college estate could
only come from the crown. This was, however, quickly arranged,
and it only remained to re-establish and complete the statutes and dis-
cipline of the university. This weighty task was committed to the
hands of Taylor, who probably availed himself largely of the experi-
ence of his friend Dr Sterne. He collected, arranged, and revised the
statutes left incomplete by Bedell, and settled the forms and the course
of studies and kctures ; thus, says Bishop Heber, " laying the basis of
that distinguished reputation which the university of Dublin has since
attained."

In his diocese the labours of Taylor were far more arduous. There
he was encountered by obstacles sufficient to neutralize ordinary effort,
ability, or virtue. These obstacles we have already had to dwell
upon, and shall not therefore return to them here. Suffice it to
say, that the diffusion of puritanism the known effect of the recent
convulsions, prevailed most in the diocese of Down. The episcopal

596 TKANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

clergy had been swept away, and their places supplied from the ranks
of those dissenters who, while they differed in forms, agreed in doctrine
with the protestant church. But as Heber justly remarks, their
animosity appeared to be great in proportion to the minuteness of the
essential causes of disagreement: and it was by slow degrees that the
patient and charitable deportment, the exemplary life and able conduct
of the bishop succeeded in gaining over the opinion of the laity to his
side. They witnessed his exertions to soften,by candour and kindness,
the hostility by which his first advances were opposed: they justly
appreciated the rejection of his invitations to settle by conference the
points of disagreement. In reply to all his kindness, his patience, his
liberality, eloquence an^ laborious exertion, the pulpits of his diocese
resounded with denunciation and defiance: the preachers even carried
their hostility so far as to enter into a compact among themselves "■ to
speak with no bishop, and to endure neither their government nor
their persons." Such virulence, without any proportioned occasion,
could not stand the test of that common sense which in ordinary times
prevails in the reasonable portion of society : and at length the nobility
and gentry of the united dioceses came over to the bishop. And even
upon the clergy themselves such was the influence of his character and
conduct, and so well directed his efforts, that the same effect was
produced, though more slowly : so that when the act of uniformity was
soon after passed, the greater number were found to be exempt from any
consequence of its operation.

It was not only by his wise and christian conduct in the discharge of
his episcopal duties, that Taylor displayed the combined wisdom and
moderation of temper and spirit which composed his character. He
had been appointed in this critical juncture of restoration and reaction,
to preach before the two houses of parliament; and availed him-
self of the occasion to inculcate sentiments of mercy and moderation
where they were most wanting: while at the same time he reproved
the captious and violent spirit of dissent which appeared to menace
the existence of Christianity itself, in a country in which every christian
grace seemed to have been parched and blasted, by the long prevalent
rancour of spiritual contention. He pointed out in forcible terms, the
inconsistency of those who were zealous even to blood for forms, costumes,
and phrases; while they seemed forgetful of christian holiness and
charity, and substituted the gall and wormwood of human hate, for
that love by which the followers of their Master were to be known.
In consistence with such exhortations he set before his auditors the
wide-spreading calamities and sufferings which must needs follow on
the execution of the then impending confiscations. He cautioned them
against being biassed by interest, or by the thoughts of revenge, or the
ove of spoil, or by prejudice or pretended zeal, — or being warped from
justice, by the sense of supposed national interests, or by the pretences
of different religion. By an affecting image, he reminded them of the
inconsistency of human affections and sympathies, and recalled their
feelings to the truth. " If you do but see a maiden carried to her
grave, a little before her intended marriage, an infant die before the
birth of reason, nature has taught us to pay a tributary tear. Alas!
your eyes will behold the ruin of many families, which, though they

sadly have deserved, yet mercy is not delighted with the spectacle ;
and therefore God places a watery cloud in the eye, that when the
light of heaven shines on it, it may produce a rainbow, to be a sacrament
and a memorial that God and the sons of God do not love to see a
man perish. God never rejoices in the death of him that dies, and we
also esteem it indecent to have music at a funeral. And as religion
teaches us to pity a condemned criminal, so mercy intercedes for the
most benign interpretation of the laws. You must indeed be as just
as the laws, — and you must be as merciful as your religion — and you
have no way to tie these together, but to follow the pattern in the
mount — do as God does, who in judgment remembers mercy!"

Under the pressure of such trying difficulties which demanded so
largely the exertion of his thoughts and the devotion of his time, there
must needs have been comparatively little time for the pursuits of
literature: the following letter adverts to his writings during t'ais

interval.

John Evelyn, Esq.

" Deare Sir,— .

" Your own worthiness and the obligations you nave so
passed upon me, have imprinted in me so great a value and kindness
to your person, that I thinke myself not a little concerned ir yourselfe,
and all your relations, and all the great accidents of you; life. Doe
not therefore thinke me either impertinent or otherwise without em-
ployment, if I doe with some care and earnestnesse inquire into your
health and the present condition of your affaires. Sir, when shall we
expect your ' Terrestrial Paradise,' your excellent observations and
discourses of gardens, of which I had a little posy presented to me by
your own kind hand, and makes me long for more. Sir, I and all
that understand excellent fancy, language, and deepest loyalty, are
bound to value your excellent panegyric, which I saw and read with
pleasure. I am pleased to read your excellent mind in so excellent (an)
idea; for as a father in his son's face, so is a man's soule imprinted in
all the pieces that he labours. Sir, I am so full of publike concernes
and the troubles of businesse in my diocese, that I cannot yet have
leisure to thinke of much of my old delightful employment. But 1
hope I have brought my affaires almost to a consistence, and then I
may returne againe. Royston (the Bookseller) hath two sermons, and
a little collection of rules for my clergy, which had been presented to
you if I had thought (them) fit for notice, or to send to my dearest
friends.

" Deare Sir, I pray let me hear from you as often as you can, for you
will very much oblige me if you will continue to love me still. I pray
give my love and deare regards to worthy Mr Thurland : let me heare
of him and his good lady, and how his son does. God blesse you and
yours, him and his.

" I am,

" Deare Sir,

" Your most affectionate friend,
" Jerem. Dunensis."

598 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

This letter, we are informed by Heber, is the last which has been
discovered of the correspondence between these two eminent persons,
which had been continued so many years, and which is so honourable a
testimony to both. It is supposed by the bishop to have first slackened
on the part of Evelyn; but we think it unnecessary to assume on this
ground any diminution of regard. Such fallings off are unhappily too
frequent a result of human affections, and we cordially subscribe to the
just and eloquent reflection of Heber, on the proof thus afforded : "how
vain is that life, when even our best and noblest ties are subject to
dissolution and decay," &c. But, though this sad condition of our
state must be admitted for a common truth, yet we are inclined to
make a favourable exception for the nobler, and, above all, the holier
spirits, whose paths in life are to be traced throughout in deeds of
charity, and in the exercise of the best affections. The growing
selfishness of human pursuits soon corrupts and withers the youthful
affections, by which it is moderated for a few years; and having
gained the supremacy, ejects all rival regards, and makes a sad cold
void of the heart. But there is a far more obvious and honourable
view of that estrangement, which so often occurs between the noblest
friends: as life advances, its cares and duties thicken upon our paths
with a strength proportioned to that of the man ; while our powers
and energies, from the moment of the highest pressure, or mostly
sooner, begin, with an accelerating rapidity, to decline. Engagements
multiply, and languor increases; while the fervid impulse of youthful
passions ceases to administer its fuel. The difficulties of letter- writing
will thus ever be found to present a serious obstacle to the prolonga-
tion of intercourse between the most tried friends ; for, unless where
there is a natural predisposition to epistolary garrulity, the mere want
of matter, and the energy of spirit which moves to thinking and lan-
guage, will be found sufficient reason for procrastination, which must
soon necessarily amount to cessation. Before they arrive at the
maturity of experience, wise men have learned the emptiness of human
speculations, and the narrow limit of their faculties: experience has
made common the trite iterations of life, and thrown the vail of impe-
netrable darkness over the unfathomed vastitudes beyond it. The
anxious confidences of hope and fear have departed; there is no im-
pulse to communicate the " weariness" of age. Such is the general
tendency, which in every special case has some peculiar cause of in-
crease or diminution.

In the same year, Taylor had to sustain a heavy affliction, in the loss
of the only surviving son of his second marriage, who was buried at
Lisburn, 10th March, 1661. Little can be ascertained concerning his
private history during this interval of his life ; and we can do no more
than mention the few incidents which have escaped oblivion. He re-
built the choir of his cathedral church of Dromore at his own expense,
and his wife contributed the communion plate. He also at the same
time invited over George Rust, fellow of Christ's college, Cambridge,
with a promise of the deanery of Connor, then expected to become
soon vacant. He continued to reside at Portmore, where he preserved
his close intimacy with the Conway family, and rendered himself
beloved by the people of all ranks through the surrounding district, by

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 599

his benevolence and the ready kindness of his charity, and the affabi-
lity of his address and conversation. Heber observes, that the only
particulars which can be gleaned of his life in this place are due to
his connexion with a ghost story, which has found its way into the
records of human superstition. It is related that, in the year 1 662, on
the eve of Michaelmas day, a spirit appeared to one Francis Taverrue,
a servant of lord Donegal, on horseback and dressed in a white coat,
and made certain disclosures to him for the purpose of recovering
the rights of an orphan son, who had been fraudulently or wrongfully
deprived by his mother's second husband. This curious tale may be
found in the fullest detail in the notes to Heber's life of Taylor. We
should willingly extract it here, but from the necessity which we feel
to avoid protracting this memoir with stories, of which there is a full
abundance to be found in numerous popular works. It would be still
more in character with the plan on which these memoirs are written,
to dwell on the curious moral and intellectual phenomena connected
with this class of traditions; their early prevalence in human history;
the remarkable analogy which seems to pervade them, so as to offer
something like that traceable law of occurrence which is the usual
indication of some causal principle ; and, finally, to point out the errors
in reasoning on either side, to which the credulous and incredulous
classes of mankind, standing at the opposite extremes of error, are led
by their several prejudices and prepossessions. For this end, we shall,
indeed, be enabled to avail ourselves of a better occasion, though on a
different topic. .

It was remarked, with some bitterness, that Taylor took a part in
this affair, which seemed to indicate that he did not quite discredit
the story. But it is evident that no such inference could be drawn from
any course pursued by one, who may have felt it advisable to propose
the tests best adapted for the exposure of a fraud, to those who might
be more easily deceived. Heber observes, and shows that his writings
afford strong ground for an opposite inference. But we do not think
the point of any moment. Taylor clearly exhibits his disbelief, by the
use of arguments, which, like all those we have ever met, are not very
conclusive. It is unfortunately an old pervading error of human
reason, to consider all questions as within its cognizance, and in default
of satisfactory proofs or disproofs, to consider it legitimate to apply
the nearest that can be found; and overlook the sure law, that the
conclusion, on either side, cannot be more certain than the premises.

There is a question of more importance, connected with a sermon
which Taylor preached this year before the university, in which he
has set his notions of toleration on a most clear and just ground.
According to this view, the just limit of toleration is to be found in
the just conservation of social interests: in any society, whether lay
or ecclesiastical, the first right is that of self-preservation, without
which neither churches nor states can stand. Those, therefore, who
hold tenets practically inconsistent with the body politic or ecclesias-
tical, cannot be entertained as constituent members of that body.
Such appears to be the inexpugnable ground on which Taylor took hif
stand, equally remote from those who are governed by sectarian feel
ings and revolutionary licence. Heber quotes two passages, one from

600 TBANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

the u Liberty of Prophesying," and the other from the sermon here
noticed, to show the consistency of his views at the several periods.

In 1 663, Taylor published " A Defence and Introduction to the
Rite of Confirmation," which he dedicated to the duke of Ormonde —
three sermons preached at Christ Church, Dublin, and the funeral
sermon on the death of primate Bramhall, " full," says Heber, " of
curious information concerning the secret history of the times, and the
pains which had been taken, with more success than was then gene-
rally known or apprehended, to pervert the exiled king from the faith
of his countrymen."

He was also at the same time engaged on the last work which he
lived to publish, the " Dissuasive from Popery," a work undertaken at
the desire of the Irish bishops. Much success from such efforts to en-
lighten the poor Irish was not to be hoped; and Taylor, who under-
took the task with some reluctance, was not sanguine in his expecta-
tions. He had the sagacity to perceive that truths so obvious to all
unprejudiced minds, and prejudices which were identified with politi-
cal distinctions, and with the national feelings to which such distinc-
tions gave birth and permanency, were not to be reduced by reason.
He also perceived the hopelessness of such a reliance, in the peculiar
situation of the people, when the only provision for their instruction was
in a language of which they were then totally ignorant. And thus, while
their pride and affections were bruised and outraged by a policy of
which they could in some degree feel the consequences, they were left
in total darkness as to the grounds, form, and worship, of the religion
which was pressed upon them solely as the religion of a people they
were taught to hate. Some efforts had been made to redeem our
countrymen from this afflicting condition. Usher, Bedell, and after-
wards Boyle, attempted, by promoting a knowledge of the Irish tongue
among the clergy, or by translations of the Scripture and liturgy, to
break down the wall which shut in the people within their enclosure
of superstition and barbarism. But such efforts were more difficult
than can at first sight be calculated; and Heber observes, with truth,
that even to our own times the evil has been suffered to continue.
The English government, he observes, preferred the policy of endea-
vouring to enforce the dissemination of the English language. Such
an object we consider of the utmost importance to the civilization of
the country ; but we think it a fatal truth, and a fundamental error in
the policy of the English government, then and at all times, to adopt
practically the false principle, that it is the part of human policy to
overlook altogether the spiritual interests of the country. When we
admit the nice limits and exceeding difficulties attendant on the due con-
sideration of those interests, under many combinations of circumstances,
it is not with the least admission of any qualification of this important
truth. The policy of governments, when not (as in modern times) viewed
as a shallow game, within the comprehension of any order of ignorance,
is, of all branches of human knowledge, the most abounding with diffi-
culties and complications, which task to the utmost, and often defy, the
best qualities of the human mind, whether moral or intellectual. Haa
not the English government been ever more earnest to reduce the Irish
people to a low state of subjection than to make them prosperous and

I

bring1 them to God, both objects had been long since attained. We
must however add, what could not be as fully known to Bishop Heber,
the knowledge of the English tongue is widely prevalent among the
Irish peasantry. We may even add, that under the influence of later
events, and the strenuous efforts which have been long making by re-
ligious societies and individuals for their instruction, the real mind and
spirit of the Irish people has within recent years undergone a vast, but
silent, and, therefore, yet unknown change — a change, indeed, not yet
apprehended by themselves. Of this we shall take occasion to speak
more fully and explicitly hereafter. But, reverting here to Taylor and
his time, he justly remarks on the same topic — " The Roman religion
is here among us a faction, and a state party, and design to recover
their old laws and barbarous manner of living — a device to enable them
to dwell alone, and to be populus unius labii — a people of one language,
and unmingled with others," &c.

After a life signalized by valuable labours, by christian talents, and
graces of the highest order, shown as remarkably in sufferings, priva-
tions, and sad bereavements, as in prosperity ; and after a career no
less exemplary by the humbler, but not less acceptable, lessons of
humility, patience, and charity, than by the faithful discharge of the
duties of a high and important station, — Bishop Taylor died on the
13th August, 1667, in the 55th year of his age, and the seventh of his
episcopacy.

His remains were interred under the communion table in the
cathedral church of Dromore. It is mentioned by Hebei*, that they
were afterwards disturbed, to make room for those of other bishops;
but Bishop Mant, on satisfactory grounds, clearly shows the statement
to be quite erroneous.* More founded was the complaint that there
existed no monument to mark the last abode of so much worth and
genius, in a church on which Taylor himself had expended large sums
for its repair and improvement. Bishop Percy had designed to repair
this disgraceful want, but was prevented by the rapid increase of bodily
infirmity and decay. We are however enabled to add, on the autho-
rity of Bishop Mant, a successor in the same diocese, that this reproach
" has been removed by the clergy of the united diocese of Down and
Connor, who, in the year 1 727, placed in the cathedral church of Lis-
burn, a white marble tablet commemorative of the most renowned
bishop of the see, appropriately decorated on each side by a crosier,
and above by a sarcophagus, on which is laid the Holy Bible, sur-
mounted by a mitre — indicating his principle and rule of action by the
Latin motto, applied to that purpose by himself in his lifetime," &c.
This motto is as follows : —

Non magna loquimur sed vivimus;
Nihil opinionis gratia, omnia conscientise faciam.

After which there follows a longer English inscription, expressive of
the sense entertained by the inscribers of Taylor's character. This
inscription is worthy of extraction here, both for its discriminate truth
and the eloquence of its composition, which will lose nothing by our
economy of space, in omitting the customary arrangement of such in-

* History of the Irish Church, p. 673, vol. I.

602 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

scriptions. There is a good engraving1 of the monument itself in
Bishop Mant's work, from which we transcribe these lines: —

" Not to perpetuate the memory of one whose works will be his
most enduring memorial, but that there may not be wanting a public
testimony to his memory in the diocese which derives honour from his
superintendence, this tablet is inscribed with the name of Jeremy
Taylor, D.D., who, on the restoration in MDCLX of the British
church and monarchy, in the fall of which he had partaken, having
been promoted to the bishopric of Down and Connor, and having pre-
sided for seven years in that see, as also over the adjoining diocese of
Dromore, which was soon after intrusted to his care, on account
of his virtue, wisdom, and industry, died at Lisburn, August 13,
MD CLX VII, in the 55th year of his age ; leaving behind him a renown
second to that of none of the illustrious sons whom the Anglican church,
rich in worthies, has brought forth. As a bishop, distinguished for
munificence and vigilance truly episcopal; as a theologian, for piety
the most ardent, learning the most extensive, and eloquence inimi-
table; in his writings, a persuasive guide to earnestness of devotion,
uprightness of practice, and christian forbearance and toleration; a
powerful asserter of episcopal government and liturgical worship, and
an able exposer of the errors of the Romish church ; in his manners,
a pattern of his own rules of Holy Living and Holy Dying; and a
follower of the great Exemplar of Sanctity, as pourtrayed by him in
the person of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.

" Reader, though it fall not to thy lot to attain the intellectual ex-
cellence of this master in Israel, thou mayest rival him in that which
was the highest scope even of his ambition, an honest conscience and
a christian life.

"This tablet was inscribed by the bishop and clergy of Down and
Connor, in the year of our Lord 1 727."

A funeral sermon preached by his chaplain and successor, Rust,
affords a just and clear view of the life, character, and genius of this
extraordinary man. It is difficult, if not impossible, for human praise
to afford any.just reflection of that piety and those exalted christian
graces, which can only be truly estimated in the balance of eternal
wisdom. Goodness, the fruit of divine grace, demands no profound
intellectual powers to ripen or sustain it, nor is it adequately to be
described in those gaudy tints which decorate the painted show of
earthly vanities; but Taylor's genius was itself cast in a spiritual
mould, and all his splendid and varied gifts were harmonized together,
and exalted, by the one pervading and characteristic spirit. The angel
temper seemed, for once at least, infused into a frame endowed
with angelic capacities — such as not often are found separately, far
more rarely together, in the composition of human character. A
deep and spacious intellect, rapid, apprehensive, and vigorous — a fancy,
alert, profuse, and ready — an imagination which seemed to wield and
bring together at will, the world of life, form, and circumstance : with

these, the exhaustless command of all the resources and sympathies of
taste, passion, and sentiment, and the copious and well-tuned elocution
which is but a result of such endowments. In some, a combination
of such powers might have its sphere in some immortal epic or dra-
matic work; in others, as circumstances led, they might be lost in the
fruitless mazes of metaphysical speculation; but in him, they were aptly
framed together by the one ever-presiding control of a pure and holy
spirit. It would be difficult to find a succession of literary productions
indicating throughout so much vivacity of impulse, and exuberance of
fancy, with so uniform a sobriety of reason and steadiness of purpose.
Something of all this seems to have been equally manifested in the
entire of his conduct, manner, and deportment. It might indeed be
anticipated, but the sermon of Rust contains many expressions of it.
The following seems to be the language of lively rhetorical exaggera-
tion, but is, doubtless, merely descriptive : — " To sum up all, this great
prelate had the good humour of a gentleman, the eloquence of an
orator, the fancy of a poet, the acuteness of a schoolman, the profound-
ness of a philosopher, the wisdom of a counsellor, the sagacity of a
prophet, the reason of an angel, and the piety of a saint; he had de-
votion enough for a cloister, learning enough for a university, and wit
enough for a college of virtuosi ; and had his parts and endowments
been parcelled out among his clergy whom he left behind him, it would
perhaps have made one of the best dioceses in the world. But alas!
our Father ! our Father ! the horses of Israel and the chariots thereof !
he is gone, and has carried his mantle and his spirit along with him
up to heaven," &c. By the way — from this specimen of a discourse,
which offers no bad imitation of Taylor's own style, some small frag-
ment of the orator's mantle must have fallen to his successor. We
select some further passages, which may serve to give more precise
ideas of this illustrious christian scholar than the above strain, which,
though far from being inappropriate, yet carries the form of rhetorical
enumeration into some strangely assorted combinations. " Nature,"
says Bishop Rust, " had befriended him much in his constitution; for
he was a person of a most sweet and obliging humour, of great can-
dour and ingenuousness ; and there was so much soul and fineness in
his wit, and prettiness of address in his familiar discourses, as made
his conversation have all the pleasantness of a comedy, and all the
usefulness of a sermon. His soul was made up of harmony, and he
never spake but he charmed his hearer, not only with the clearness of
his reason, but all his words; and his very tone and cadences were
unusually musical." After some further commemoration of these and
other striking and great endowments, the bishop proceeds: " To these
advantages of nature, and excellence of his spirit, he added an inde-
fatigable industry, and God gave a plentiful benediction; for there
were few kinds of learning but he was a mystes and a great master in
them. He was an excellent humanist, and highly versed in all the
polite parts of learning ; and had thoroughly digested all the ancient
moralists, Greek and Roman, poets and orators ; and was not unac-
quainted with the refined wits of the later ages, whether French or
Italian."

Among other accomplishments of learning, Rust mentions his

604 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

thorough acquaintance with " the fathers and ecclesiastical writers,
and the doctors of the first and purest ages hoth of the Greek and
Latin church," After dwelling on the eminence of his Christian at-
tainments, and that exemplary devotion which rendered all other dis-
tinctions comparatively nothing in his own estimation, the orator
proceeds : " He was a person of great humility ; and notwithstanding
his stupendous parts, learning, and eminence of place, he had nothing
in him of pride and honour, but was courteous, affable, and of easy
access, and would lend a ready ear to the complaints, even to the im-
pertinences of the meanest people. His humility was coupled with
extraordinary piety ; and I believe he spent the greatest part of his
time in heaven; his solemn hours of prayer took up a considerable
portion of his life."* His charity is inferred from the largeness of his
income, compared with the little left to his family. On this it is
mentioned by Ware, that having saved moderate portions for his
daughters, he distributed all the rest to the poor.

Of the writings of Taylor we have made as much mention as our
space admits. The subjects of many of the controversies in which he
took an active part are such, in some cases, as to prescribe silence in a
work designed for many classes, while in others we have briefly re-
corded our opinion. On the general character of his eloquence there
is not much to be added: it was such as might be inferred as the result
of such a combination of moral and intellectual characters as we have
described: it is, indeed, chiefly from his writings that we have been ena-
bled to reason out the features of his mind ; and the peculiarities of his style
must nearly suggest the repetition of the same language which we have
used or extracted. The copious and somewhat exuberant play of allusion
which appears to seize on every incident, or element of theory, or
fancy, or recorded fact, or saying, which comes even remotely within
reach of his line of march, is such as to display a boundless expansion
of mind, and a spacious grasp of knowledge, as well as to indicate the
warmth and intensity of spirit, which could excite so much activity of
the whole mind. He seems to be involved in the peculiar atmosphere of
his subject, and to write with a wholeness and sincerity of heart, not
often attained by the orator or author. In most compositions, it is not
easy for the experienced and critical reader to avoid the impression
constantly produced by the perception of the artifices of style, and the
too obvious exposure of the resources of art. There is nothing of this
unpleasant qualification in the eloquence of Taylor: for, although he
seems to disport with facility in the most striking and splendid, har-
monious and most dexterous dispositions of language, yet these appear
to be but the dictate of instinctive taste, and a portion of the rolling
torrent of allusions, comparisons, and arguments, which seem unselected
and unsought, and rather the result of impulse than volition. Such a
character of style, so curiously adapted to the form of the intellect
in which it had its origin, was, it should here be recollected, in a
great degree favoured by the taste of Taylor's age, — a consideration
necessary to redeem it from the charge of defects and excesses which
are not tolerated in our more precise and succinct method of composi-

* Rust's Discourse, quoted here from Mr Bonney.

JEREMY TAYLOR, BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR. 605

tion, To this point we shall have an opportunity of reverting, with
the fulness which it demands: the precise trim of modern composition
which rejects superfluity, and requires the utmost nicety of distinction
the greatest exactness of application, and the most orderly array in
the succession of thoughts, was then unconceived. The character-
istic effort, by which the modern is compelled to govern and restrain
the first cloud of conception which rushes upon the intellect, to weigh
in a scrupulous balance, and to reject with rigid control all that too
remotely, too slightly, or superfluously supports his main design,
had then no existence in the rhetoric of the English tongue. There
seemed no reason why the whole torrent of suggestion should not be
admitted in those elastic sentences, and immeasurable periods, in which
it was the pride and delight of eloquent speakers and writers, to sport
freely, and tumble like leviathan in the vasty deep. To scatter free and
liberal flowers, and pour forth the fulness of extensive reading, was in
some degree also the criterion of genius: and though now rejected
for finer tests, it then produced a vast and powerful effect not now to
be measured without much reflection. Though a false analogy, or a
grotesque allusion, may now excite a smile, it was then received
without question ; in part because it appealed to less disciplined imagi-
nations, and partly because it displayed power, and partly because it
gratified the taste. If it contained no argument, it was at least a
striking manner of expressing what the argument was: and was not,
as would be likely to happen now, a mere substitution. We have
the more dwelt on this consideration as Taylor's writings are recently
published in forms which give them a chance of again attracting the
public. Many may be offended prematurely by peculiarities which are
become faults, and conclude wrongfully, to the discredit of one of the
most just and acute writers of our language: while still more may
fall into an error, far more to be lamented, and mistake those faults
for excellencies; an error the more likely, because it is among those
readers who are most likely to be attracted by the spirit of Taylor,
that many corruptions of language are yearly springing up, to the
great diminution of their influence on society.

We mentioned the death of one of Taylor's sons to have occurred a
little before his own: another, the last who remained, died soon after
in England. His widow survived many years. He left three daughters:
of whom the second, Mary, was married to Dr Francis Marsh, after-
wards archbishop of Dublin. The third, Joanna, married a Mr Har-
rison, of Maraleve, &c. Heber gives some interesting accounts of their
descendants.

So far as any judgment can be formed from his numerous portraits,
Taylor appears to have been " above the middle size, strongly and hand-
somely proportioned, with his hair long and gracefully curling on his
cheeks, large dark eyes full of sweetness, an aquiline nose, and an
open and intelligent countenance.'' * There is yet an original portrait
of him in All Souls' College, presented by Mrs Wray, of Ann's Vale,
near Rosstrevor.

* Hober.

606 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

FRANCIS MARSH, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN.

BORN A.D. 1627. DIED A.D. 1693.

Francis Marsh, the subject of the present memoir, was a native of
Gloucestershire, and was early distinguished for his classical attain-
ments. He was elected a fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cam-
bridge, where he remained during the protectorate, seeking neither
for employment or promotion from a government to whose views he
was politically and conscientiously opposed. Among the loyalists,
however, his talents, virtues, and learning, were duly appreciated; and,
on the restoration, he had the distinguished honour of being selected
and sought for by Jeremy Taylor, on his promotion to the see of
Down and Connor, who, after admitting him successively into deacon's
and priest's orders, presented him to the deanery of that diocese. In
the following year, through the instrumentality of the lord Chancellor
Hyde, he was advanced to the deanery of Armagh, with which was
combined the archdeaconry of Dromore. These offices he held until
1667? when he was promoted to the sees of Limerick, Ardfert, and
Aghadoe. In about five years from this period, he was translated to
those of Kilmore and Ardagh, and in 1681 he was advanced to the
dignity of archbishop of Dublin. These high and rapidly succeeding
promotions were alluded to by the bishop of Meath, when preaching
his funeral sermon, as tests of his merit, for he says, " this archbishop
has been rather courted by preferments, than a solicitor of them, which
ought therefore to give a due value and esteem to his memory and re-
putation." It is, however, fair to state, that he brings forward less
questionable grounds for praise, as he not only speaks of his great
learning, but adds, that he was " affable, mild, grave, and of an un-
blamable life." Having been appointed treasurer to St Patrick's, he
took the oath of canonical obedience to the dean, but he subsequently
resigned this office in favour of his son. After the accession of James,
and the unfortunate substitution of Tyrconnel for Clarendon in the
government of Ireland, the latter resigned the sword of state to the
new viceroy, in the archbishop's palace, where the council were as-
sembled, and where he delivered an impressive and affecting speech,
exhorting him to adopt the same course of impartial justice towards
protestants, that he had himself practised towards the opposite party :
this, his previous conduct, while lieutenant-general, made more than
unlikely, and " never was a sword washed with so many tears as this,'
which Clarendon laid down. The worst fears of the protestants were
quickly realized, and the reign of terror, of injustice, and of blood,
which followed, obliged all of any eminence or virtue, to fly a country
where these very qualities and attainments made them only the more
prominently obnoxious to oppression or to death. The archbishop
accordingly removed with his wife and family to England, and nomi-
nated the celebrated Dr William King to act as his commissary in his
absence, and to superintend and protect the interests of that diocese,
over which he was subsequently destined to rule. King, probably

NARCISSUS MARSH, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 607

fearing- that his unaided efforts would be insufficient to oppose the in-
novations and unjust interference of the popular party, declined the
appointment, on the ground of its not having been legally executed.
It was accordingly arranged that the chapters should elect Anthony
Dopping, bishop of Meath, manager and superintendent of the diocese,
in the arduous duties of which office he was ably assisted by Dr King
On the abdication of James, the archbishop returned to Dublin, and
at his own expense repaired, enlarged, and beautified the palace of St
Sepulchre's. He did not however live long to enjoy the happy period
that succeeded, when each could again " sit under his own vine and
his own fig-tree," but, being attached by apoplexy, died in 1693, and
was buried in Christ's church, his funeral sermon being preached, as
before mentioned, by the bishop of Meath. The vacant archbishopric
was offered to Dr Tenison, subsequently archbishop of Canterbury,
but some obstacles arising to this appointment, it was given in the year
following to Dr Narcissus Marsh, a man of great prudence and learn-
ing, and though of the same name, apparently no relative to his pre-
decessor.

NARCISSUS MARSH, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN.

BORN A. D. 1638. DIED A. D. 1713.

The family of Dr Narcissus Marsh was ancient, and of Saxon
origin ; and maternally he was descended from the Colburns of Dor-
setshire. He was born at Hannington, near Highworth in Wiltshire,
in December 1 638, at which town he was educated, and removed from
thence to Oxford in 1654. After taking the degrees of Master of
Arts and Bachelor of Divinity, he took that of Dr of Divinity
in 1671; and seven years after took the same degree in Dublin
college. He was appointed chaplain to the bishop of Exeter, and
also subsequently became chaplain to the Lord Chancellor Hyde,
to which appointment many of his future preferments may be
traced. He was early distinguished as a person of learning and sound
understanding, and was selected by the duke of Ormonde, when
chancellor of Oxford, as principal of St Alban's hall ; and being a very
accomplished preacher, he was generally chosen on public occasions to
preach anniversary sermons, especially such as in those times required
tact and judgment. In 1678 he was nominated by the duke to the
provostship of Dublin college, which office he held for four years,
and resigned it on being promoted to the bishopric of Ferns, where he
lived in undisturbed retirement; "repairing churches, planting curates
where wanting, and doing what good he could," until king James
ascended the throne. His own very interesting manuscript diary,
which is preserved in the library which he subsequently founded in
Dublin, and which will cause his name to be long honoured and
remembered, gives the details of his persecutions, vicissitudes, and
escapes, at this period; and is also a painful record of the pecuniary
aids he gratefully enumerates as having received in his flight, difficul-
ties, and destitution. His house was beset at midnight by a party of

608 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

soldiers, from whom he with difficulty escaped; and having reached
Dublin, obtained shelter from the provost, until he in his turn was
compelled to fly with his family — when not having money to procure
himself the common necessaries of life, and being threatened with
destruction if he attempted to return to his diocese, he fled to London,
where he says, " I was kindly received by the archbishop of Canter-
bury, the archbishop of York, the bishop of London and others; but
especially by the bishop of St Asaph, who bestowed on me the parish
of Gretford for my support under that calamity; and by the bishop of
Salisbury, Dr Burnet, who earnestly invited me several times to be at
his house until I might return to Ireland. The bishop of Lincoln also
presented me with five guineas. The Lord remember them all for their
kindness to the distressed." During his stay in London, notwithstand-
ing all his own anxieties and difficulties, he exerted himself actively
and successfully for his suffering brethren, who had to fly from the
bloody persecution then raging in Ireland, and who were less fortu-
nate, being unknown and unprotected. After spending some
months in London, he received an invitation from his old friend, Dr
Bury, rector of Exeter college, of which he had been himself a pro-
bationer fellow. He remained with him for nine months, during which
time he says he was " furnished with all necessaries both by the Doc-
tor and his wife, and by Mrs Guise, their daughter ;" and when he was
at length leaving these faithful friends, Mrs Bury offered him twenty
guineas, which he says he refused, as " having no present occasion,"
the bishop of London having just sent him the same sum.

Upon the happy event of the abdication of king James, the bishop
returned to Ireland, and was shortly afterwards promoted to the arch-
bishopric of Cashel. In his new character of metropolitan, he conse-
crated Dr Nathaniel Foy, bishop of Waterford, — he being one of those
dignitaries who had incurred both risk, contumely, and imprisonment,
for his firm and uncompromising adherence to the protestant faith;
and in the archbishop's diary, he expresses his " great hopes," which
were ultimately realized, that this newly consecrated prelate might be
" made an instrument of God's great glory." In his first visitation
sermon, this truly christian archbishop pressed upon his clergy their
plain and practical duties, charging them in those dark and un-
awakened times, not to wait until they were formally summoned by the
sick and dying, but to seek for and anticipate such calls: for he adds,
" besides the necessity of doing so in that extreme exigence for the
direction of a parting soul in the right way to heaven, how incongru-
ous is it that the sick persons should put you in mind of your duty;
whereas you ought to put them in mind of theirs." He further says,
" I shall only add hereto, that you should be very cautious how you
behave yourselves towards men on their death-beds; that you neither
run them into despair, that you do not send some to hell with false
hopes, and let others go to heaven without any."

In 1694, he was advanced to the see of Dublin, and in his diary he
thus notices this event.

" April 20. The news came to Cork, while I was there (on his
triennial visitation), that their majesties were pleased to declare I
should be translated to the see of Dublin; and accordingly the king's

letter was sent over for that purpose . and all this without my know-
ledge, or any means used by me for obtaining it. O Lord, thy ways
are wonderful: and as this is thy sole doing, so I beseech thee to
grant me sufficient assistance of thy Holy Spirit, to enable me to per-
form the work which thou hast assigned me. Amen."

He was accordingly enthroned in St Patrick's cathedral the follow-
ing month, and applied himself, with conscientious earnestness, to the
performance of the more extended duties and responsibilities which
then devolved upon him. He directed his clergy scrupulously to
attend to the instruction of the young, and enlarged upon and enforced
their various practical duties, with the same zeal and primitive simpli-
city he had done at Cashel. His own efforts were laboriously and
judiciously directed to the correction of abuses on a large scale ; and
the extreme age of the primate, incapacitating him from giving any
assistance in the affairs of the church made the labour more oppressive.
This is alluded to in a letter quoted by Bishop Mant, from a corre-
spondence between him and Dr J. Smith, preserved in the Bodleian
library, of which the following are extracts : —

" We having parliaments but seldom in Ireland, it might be sup-
posed that here is occasion for many acts to be passed when we do
meet ; all which are prepared in this council, and sent to that in Eng-
land before they can be brought into our parliament to be passed into
laws; and my lord primate being above eighty-seven years old, and
almost deprived of his sight and hearing, you cannot imagine but the
weight of business to prepare bills to be passed into acts of parliament;
for the church which nobody but churchmen will mind, hath lain and
still doth lie heavy upon me; insomuch that for some months past I
have not been able to command almost a minute's time from many bills
prepared for the good of our church ; whereof some are already passed,
and the others I hope will suddenly be passed into laws, for the better
establishment of this poor distressed church." In another letter,
he states that he is occupied from ten to eleven hours every day, pre-
paring in conjunction with some other bishops and privy councillors,
those bills for parliament ; and in a third, dated May 4th, 1 700, about
a year after holding the office of lord justice, he says, " it must be a
great goodness in you to pardon my neglects, which I do still confess,
promise amendment, and then do worse. But all arises from an un-
happy circumstance that I do usually labour under. Worldly business
is that which above all things I do hate; and that the more, because
the affairs of the church, as things now stand, and during my lord pri-
mate's inability to act in his station, create me as much business as I
can conveniently turn under. When I was dismissed last summer
from the charge of the government, I hoped to be ever hereafter free
from things of that nature. But Providence disposed of me out of one
trouble into another ; for our lord chancellor was no sooner summoned
by the parliament in England, but I was appointed first commissioner
for keeping the broad seal, which hath found me employment; that I
hope will be over in a few weeks, that so I may be at some liberty to
write to my friends."

Among his numerous efforts for the benefit of this country, there ia
one which must claim precedence of all the rest, not only from its last-

II. 2 Q Ir.

610 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

ing utility, but from the peculiar sacrifices that it involved. This was
the building, endowing, and furnishing, a noble library for the express
benefit of the public, in the immediate neighbourhood of the palace.
The account of the origin, progress, and completion of this great
design, along with the unexpected obstacles encountered and combated
by the archbishop, are given with much interest and simplicity by his
own pen, in Bishop Mant's work. The conception of this scheme ap-
pears to date almost from his accession to the archiepiscopal see of
Dublin, but was not effectively carried out until some ten years after-
wards; nor even until some two or three years after he had been trans-
lated from that see to the primacy of Ireland and see of Armagh. It
appears that the house assigned to the archbishop in Dublin, otherwise
sufficiently spacious, had neither a chapel nor library assigned to it, and
it was the design of His Grace to build a chapel for the family and a
larger library for the use of the public.

To secure the perpetuity of this institution, the primate determined
to have some bills prepared and passed through parliament for the
purpose, but in doing so, met most unexpected and vexatious opposi-
tion from some of the members of his own profession ;* notwithstand •
ing this, he says, in a letter to Dr Smith, " It passed the House of
Lords, and was sent down to the House of Commons, where it was
very kindly and favourably received. Amongst other clauses, this sta-
tute declares the premises for ever discharged of and free from all man-
ner of taxes already imposed, or thereafter to be imposed, by act of
parliament, unless the same shall thereon be charged expressly and by
name. In the mean time, the dissenting lords entered their protes-
tation against it, with such reasons as the House of Lords thought to
be very reflective on them, and therefore, at the next session immedi-
ately voted those dissenting lords should be sent prisoners to the cas-
tle, unless they would withdraw their reasons, which accordingly they
did, and all was quiet.

" In the mean time, the House of Commons passed my bill, without
any man's opposing it, or, as they say, nemine contradicente, and pre-
sently voted that a committee of eight of their members should be ap-
pointed, to give me the thanks of the house for my benefactions,
which was accordingly done out of hand. The lords, knowing this,
presently voted the same, and pitched upon the dissenting lords to do
it, for their mortification. But only one of them being at the time in

the house, a temporal lord was joined with him. * *

*******

" By this you willperceive how difficult a matter it is for a man to
do any kindness to the people of this country. If he will be a publick
benefactor, he must resolve to fight his way through all opposition of
it ; it being a new and unheard-of thing here, that certainly hath some
secret design in it to subvert the church, though they cannot tell what;
and the reason of it is, " Quia omnes, qua? sua sunt, quserunt."

" This library, with the books, hath cost me near five thousand pounds
Irish money; and I designed to expend so much more about it, as soon
as God should enable me. But I confess this opposition has struck a

* Bishops of Killala, Ossory, Killaloe, and Raphoe, especially the two last.

NARCISSUS MARSH, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 611

great damp upon my spirits. I beg your prayers, that God would
please to strengthen and encourage me in my former resolutions,
without whose assistance, yea, and enlivening grace, I can do nothing
more. Rev. Sir, — Thus far I had written near a month ago, and have
laid by my letter to cool upon it thus long, and finding no exaggera-
tion of the truth in what is before said, I now proceed to tell you, that
since that time I have placed all bishop Stillingfleet's books in the
said library, which I retained in my own house before the library was
by act of parliament appropriate to publick use, and I do find that they
do very near fill up all the space that is yet prepared in it for the re-
ception of the boohs."

In the ensuing year, he again writes upon the same subject as fol-
lows:—

" Until this matter be settled, and an additional building be raised,
or the present be carried on, as is designed, I fear that I shall not
find room in it to place in it any more books, which does no more
discourage me from prosecuting my design of rendering the library as
beneficial to this kingdom as may be, than the opposition made to the
bill hath done; which hath only made me more zealous in the busi-
ness, since it hath received the general approbation. But I must beg
your pardon, if I cannot consent to leaving any marks behind me of
the opposition made to the passing of that bill, more than what of ne-
cessity must be entered on the journals of the House of Lords here.
The opponents, some of them are worthy men :

ff w *ff ^t* vt* tF cori

Nescio quo fato, nee qua vertigine rapti, &c

" I forgive them, and I pray God every man else may; at least no-
thing under my hand shall ever rise up against them." Amongst his
many difficulties and discouragements, he had the gratification of re-
ceiving testimonies and congratulations upon the completion of his
noble undertaking, from the best and highest in the land. The sub-
joined is from Archbishop King, and is of a previous date: —

" I understand with great satisfaction, that your Grace has conclud-
ed with Mr Stillingfleet for his father's library. 'Tis a noble gift to
the church; and as it will perpetuate your Grace's memory here, so it
will, I hope, be plentifully rewarded by our common Master. I could
not on this occasion forbear expressing the sense I have of it, and
rendering my thanks to God on behalf of your Grace, as well as ac-
knowledgments to your Grace. I am further to assure your Grace
that I am ready to join in an act of parliament to settle the library and
gallery as we agreed, and I hope it will be ready to pass next session."

Both a librarian and a sub-librarian were appointed by the primate,
who appropriated a charge of £250 per annum on certain lands in the
county of Meath for the purpose of their endowment. He also directed,
that the library, which then contained about 10,000 volumes, should re-
main open during the hours most suitable to the convenience of the
citizens, and that all strangers should be freely admitted. About fifty
years after, this library received a very important addition, by a be-
quest of valuable books and manuscripts from Dr Stearne, bishop of
Clogher.

612 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

The primate now turned his active mind to the reform, and in many
instances, remodelling of the diocese over which he was called upon to
preside. At his own expense he repaired many of the deserted and dila-
pidated churches, and supplied them with proper ministers; and also
purchased many alienated impropriations, and restored them to the
church. The lamentable ignorance into which the Irish papists had
at that time sunk, awakened the commiseration of many among the
most zealous and conscientious of the Irish prelates, who forwarded a
petition to the queen, through the duke of Ormonde, then lord-lieu-
tenant, that active and efficient means might be resorted to for their
instruction and conversion. While this petition was under considera-
tion, the primate and his clergy joined in a subscription for the pur-
pose of maintaining two missionaries, to preach to the Roman Catho-
lics in their native language; and, at the same time, through the
exertions of Archbishop King, Mr Richardson, and others, the Scrip-
tures were printed in Irish and disseminated.

In 1707, the primate was seized with an alarming illness, which he
describes to his friend Dr Smith in the following manner: — " As to
the present, a lazy indisposition seized me that day at dinner whereon
my lord-lieutenant landed, which was June 24th, which rendered me
unable to walk or stand without help. 'Twas a benumbness in my
limbs, that is not yet quite worn off, nor can it be until I have liberty
to ride and walk and stir about, which the business of parliament, con-
vocation, and council, hath hitherto denied me, especially the council,
which, since the recess of parliament, which is to meet again, Sep-
tember 20th, hath seldom sate, either itself or in a committee, less
than eight or ten hours every day to prepare, adjust, and dispatch
bills to the council in England for their approbation, that they may
be returned hither in time enough to be passed in our parliament when
it shall meet. This is our method. So that when I returned home
at night, I have been still more inclined ad dormiendum quam ad
scribendurn. But God be thanked, my distemper, as the doctors tell
me, is only the scurvies, not a touch of the palsy, as I at first appre-
hended. And the fore-mentioned business being now for a few days
over, I have time to think of my friends and books,"

From this period the health of the primate appears to have gradu-
ally declined, though his mental energies continued sound; and he
continued to transact business almost to the close of his life, which
did not terminate until 1713. Although in 1710 the duke of Or-
monde told Swift, that " he was hardly able to sign a paper," when
Swift answered, " he wondered they would put him in the govern-
ment, when every one knew he was a dying man this twelvemonths
past."

On the 2d of November he was attacked by apoplexy, and died in
the seventy-sixth year of his age. He was buried in the church-yard
of St Patrick's, adjoining his library, where a stately white marble
monument was erected, which has since been removed into the cathe-
dral, and is placed at the south side of the west aisle: while a mural
plate marks the spot in the church-yard where his mortal remains
were laid. He never married, and he does not appear to have had
ttuy very near relatives. His charities were unbounded — the amount

ANTHONY DOPPING, BISHOP OF MEATH. 613

cf them being calculated at not less than £30,000. In Drogheda
ne built an alms-house for the reception of twelve widows of clergy-
men, and allowed to each of them £20 per annum. He also gave his
aid and sanction to the missions in the East, and was himself a highly
accomplished Oriental scholar. He excelled both in vocal and instru-
mental music, and understood thoroughly and scientifically the princi-
ples of harmony. He wrote an essay on sounds, with proposals for the
improvement of acoustics, which was presented to the Iloyal Society,
and printed in the Philosophical Transactions, and on which Guido
Grandi, a philosopher of Cremona, has largely commented. When
provost, he published " Inatitutiones Logicce" and also edited Philip
de Trieu's " Manuductio ad Logicam," to which he added the origi-
nal Greek text, and some notes on Gassendi's tract, De Demonstra-
tione, printed at Oxford, 1678.

ANTHONY DOPPING, BISHOP OF MEATH.

BORN A. D. 1643 — DIED A. D. 1697.

This illustrious prelate was the son of a Mr Anthony Dopping, an
Englishman. He was born in Dublin, 28th March, 1643, and edu-
cated in the free school of St Patrick's. There he was early distin-
guished for the quickness with which he learned ; and so rapid was
his progress, that he was enabled to enter the university of Dublin in
1656, being then in his 13th year. In the university, his advance
was no less extraordinary, and he obtained the fellowship in his 19th
year. As a fellow, he is said to have won general respect and regard
in the university, for the zeal and ability with which he discharged
the arduous duties of that high and responsible station, as well as for
the ready kindness and affability which made his conduct and demea-
nor attractive to the undergraduates. In 1669 he wa3 appointed
minister of St Andrew's, and on the death of Jones, bishop of Kil-
dare, in 1678, he was with universal approbation chosen his successor
in that see. From this he was, in 1681, translated to Meath. He
was at the same time made a privy counsellor, and vice-chancellor of
the university.

We have already stated in some detail, and cannot now repeat the
disastrous efforts of king James II. and his counsellors, to effect a re-
volution in England in favour of the church of Rome : as was to be
expected, Ireland, in which their party was already formidable, and
where the intrigues and arbitrary interpositions of government were
less under the control of the protestant sense of the kingdom, was se-
lected as the stage of action. For a time every engine of arbitrary
power, and a policy that went to its mark with a violence of zeal irre-
spective of all considerations of truth, mercy, or equity, were let loose
against the protestants of Ireland. We must here add, that in our
detail of this execrable conspiracy, we have guarded against the hasty
imputation of these deeds to the really respectable portions of our
countrymen of the papal church. In such times, there ever was and

614= TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

must be a ragged regiment of the mere mob of any people, of any
country, or creed, who will be at the disposal of all who are with im-
punity allowed to raise the popular outcry of public disorder, rapine,
and murder. Such a fact, inherent in human nature, conveys no re-
proach when fairly understood, save that which must fall on those
who avail themselves of such an instrumentality for evil ends. We
are here only concerned with the fact that, when the lord-deputy,
Tyrconnel, put in motion every engine of power for the subversion of
the church in Ireland, Dopping, with other privy counsellors, was dis-
missed, for the purpose of forming a council of the Romish persua-
sion.

The effect of such a course was soon felt through the kingdom, but
more especially in Dublin, where tyranny and violence kept their head-
quarters, and all opposition was suppressed by terror. There it was
unsafe for protestants to be in any way noticed, and their clergy, when
found in the discharge of their spiritual functions, were treated with the
most harsh contumelies and interruptions by the brutal soldiery who
had received their orders for such conduct. The archbishop of Dub-
lin, having become the subject of special persecution, was compelled
to fly ; and still, anxious for the faithful discharge of his duties, he ap-
pointed Dr King as his commissary. But some doubt arising as
to the legality of the instrument by which he was appointed, King
prevailed on the chapters of Christ church and Patrick's to elect the
bishop of Meath to the administration of the spiritualities. Dopping
was thus brought forward into a post of dangerous responsibility ; and
never was such a post more worthily filled, or in a season of more
trying adversity. Ably and courageously aided by Dr King, he ex-
erted himself openly in the assertion of the rights and interests of the
church ; to protect its property ; to enforce and preserve its ministerial
offices and duties ; and fill its churches with worthy and efficient
pastors. In the parliament of 1689, he distinguished himself in his
place by the courage and eloquence with which he denounced the
outrages of king James' government : he also made several protests
and petitions in favour of the persecuted protestants, their church, and
clergy. In a word, his boldness and prompt zeal were at the time only
tolerated in that destructive assembly, because, standing nearly alone,
he could not offer any check to their proceedings, while his freedom
seemed to give an appearance of fairness and liberality to their de-
bates.

His noble courage and ability were indeed of no avail, though they
probably obtained for him the involuntary respect of his opponents, as
they won the regard and veneration of all just and honourable minds of
every persuasion. King James, happily ejected from the kingdom,
against the liberty and religion of which he had conspired with his ene-
mies, came to exercise his duplicity and despotic temper in Ireland; and
here, in no long time, freed as he was from the constraints of the English
public, exposed the secrets of his policy, by acts of the most flagrant
injustice and spoliation. Into these we shall not now enter: it may be
enough to mention here that the repeal of the act of settlement fol-
lowed by the most flagitious act that ever left immortal dishonour on

WILLIAM KING, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 615

the memory of a legislative assembly, had the effect of opening the
e\es of every respectable person in the kingdom who from -whatever
cause had adhered to him.

An act of the same parliament transferred the incumbencies of the
protestant churches, with their emoluments and sacred edifices, to the
priests of the papal communion. Through the country they obtained
possession by violence, in which they were aided by the soldiery of
James. In Dublin the churches were seized on different pretexts;
and with the aid of the French soldiery, a system of extortion exer-
cised against the protestant inhabitants.

At length, by the blessing of that overruling providence, which pleas-
ed to reserve this country — we trust for better times — the march of
outrage and sacrilege was stayed by the battle of the Boyne. On this
memorable occasion, Dopping, with Digby bishop of Limerick, and the
clergy then remaining in Dublin, waited on the conqueror with an ad-
dress, which was composed and delivered by Dopping, who had been
their advocate and champion in their recent trials and sufferings, and had
never once faltered through the whole of that perilous and disastrous
time. To the church history of this period we must revert in the
following memoir.

Dopping, restored to his dignities, enjoyed many years of peace and
prosperity, and died in the year 1697 in Dublin. He was buried in
his family vault in St Andrew's church.

WILLIAM KING, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN.

BORN A. D. 1650. DIED A. D. 1729.

William King, who, whether we regard him as a prelate, a scholar,
or a man of genius, is entitled to a place in the foremost rank of
eminent Irishmen, was born in 1650 in Antrim. His father was a
Scotch settler,, who came over in the time of the civil wars to avoid
taking the solemn league and covenant. William was sent to school
at Dungannon, and in 1666, when he had nearly completed his 17th
year, he entered as a sizer in the university of Dublin. There he ob-
tained a scholarship, and graduated in 1670, and took master's degree
in 1675, when he was ordained deacon by Dr Mossom, bishop of
Derry. He had, at the provost's earnest desire, offered himself can-
didate at the fellowship examination, but not having read with this
view, he did not succeed. But the effort was creditable, as he answer-
ed on such insufficient preparation, so as to manifest the possession of
great ability and knowledge. He was thus recommended to Parker,
archbishop of Tuam, who ordained him priest, and took him as chaplain
into his family. During his residence with the archbishop he availed
himself of the advantages thus afforded for the cultivation of his un-
derstanding, and the acquisition or improvement of such attainments
as might be useful to his future views of duty or advancement ; and in
this prudent and laudable industry he was much encouraged by his
patron, who had the sagacity to perceive that he was gifted with an
intellect of no inferior order. The archbishop was not neglectful of

316 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

his other interests, and in the course of a few years promoted him to
several benefices ; so many that indeed they might seem to amount to
a most reprehensible accumulation of pluralities, if we did not refer to
the then poverty of church livings, and the state of learning in Ire-
land, which were such, that the promotion of piety and learning were
objects of the most immediate importance. At the time of which we
write, and indeed long after, the church livings were for the most part
wholly inadequate to their purpose : and to this rather than to any
more invidious cause, is to be attributed the abuse of pluralities.
The far greater abuse of impropriations, and the poverty of the coun-
try made the parishes of so small and uncertain a value, that it was
necessary to add five or six together to make an income of fifty pounds
a-year. While to so many, perhaps, there was seldom more than one
church in effective repair.*

In 1678 Parker was translated to Dublin. He collated King to
the chancellorship of Patrick's, with the parish of Werburghs. Here
King had the opportunity for which he must doubtless have been de-
sirous, of labouring in his vocation as a christian minister. His
great promptness and activity in the general interest of the chapter,
and still more in the defence of religion, were during the same inter-
val signalized by different efforts, and by controversial writings, not
of sufficiently permanent interest to be here distinctly noticed. In
1688 he was further promoted by the chapter of St Patrick's, who
elected him to the deanery.

Those troubled times to which we have so frequently been com-
pelled to advert now came on, and for a moment seemed to shake the
church and growing fortunes of this country to the foundation. In
that dreadful crisis, King was among those who stood his ground, to
brave and endure the dangers and sufferings of his church and fellow-
citizens. When the repeal of the act of settlement was proposed, he
justly concluded that such a dissolution of the actual constitution of the
country amounted to a forfeiture of allegiance, and exerted himself to
the utmost to persuade his fellow-countrymen to embrace the deliver-
ance providentially offered by the prince of Orange; and it is admit-
ted that he was memorably successful, so that under providence, he
may be said first to have given a salutary direction to the public mind,
bewildered as it was in the stormy collision of interests and passions,
then prevalent in this distracted country.

Of these noble exertions a new sense was shown by the hostile
party and their king in the following year, when they seized many
protestant clergymen, among whom was King, on some absurd pre-
tence, and imprisoned them in the castle. King committed his autho-
rity to his subdean, Mr Henry Price, with strong injunctions to keep
the church in order to the utmost of his power. While thus impris-
oned, he wrote the history of the events, of which he was himself the
faithful and intelligent witness, and which, if the utmost allowance be
made for the errors of human observation, contains beyond any fair
comparison the most authentic and trustworthy narration of those
events. We have had the advantage of its guidance in the political

* See Swift's memorial to Mr Harley about the first-fruits, in bis works, vol. xii.

WILLIAM KING, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 617

history of this interval, and have also diligently compared it with the
counter-statements which have been opposed to it. The grounds of
our preference we have fully stated. It may here be enough to state,
that the utmost deductions to be made from King's accounts are not
such as in any way to affect the substantial accuracy of the whole, either
in detail or general truth. With respect to his adversaries, it would
be painful to go to the full length of exposure; but there is throughout
the entire of them, that prominent vein of misrepresentation which
belongs to the lowest form of tortuous advocacy — evasion, equivoca-
tion— and above all, that ever ready resource of historical falsehood,
the suppressio veri. The large allowances to be made for that ad-
justment of facts to certain false assumptions in political theory, which
gave such writers plausibility among the ignorant and deluded party
for which they have written, would be more difficult to advert to in
any summary form; but we will venture to say that we have sufficient-
ly exposed them already in the course of this work.

King's confinement was not of long duration: he was liberated by
the exertions of Herbert, who was one of the many protestants who yet
lay under an erroneous sense of loyalty to James, and who, for the
sake of the respectability which they attached to his cause, were en-
abled to exercise a considerable influence over him. It was during
this interval that archbishop Marsh had been driven from the country,
by a series of persecutions already related. On his release, Dean
King applied himself, with all his ability and assiduous zeal, to assist
the bishop of Meath in the care of the archdiocese thus deprived of its
proper head. But he was too distinguished to be long endured by the
despotic intolerance of James, or by the rancorous faction which di-
rected his apprehensions and jealousies; once more he was seized and
incarcerated: but the battle of the Boyne which delivered the country
again set free the brave assertor of her rights, and historian of her
wrongs and sufferings. In a few days after, king William entered the
capital and returned thanks in Patrick's cathedral, where King, as
dean, preached before him: considering" the occasion of such a dis-
course the topics were obvious; the dean had to dwell on the dangers to
which the church and the country had been exposed, and to trace their
great and providential deliverance.

His merits were among the highest, if not indeed the very highest,
which demanded recognition from the justice of William ; and the in-
terest of the church, then to be repaired from its ruins, still more im-
peratively demanded the promotion of one whose virtues and abilities
so distinctly marked him for a post of dignity and public trust. The
see of Derry had been designed by the king, as a reward for the ser
vices of the Rev. George Walker ; but the death of this heroic man at
the Boyne left the vacancy free for a far more appropriate nomina-
tion; and Dean King was chosen. By permission of the primate,
whose age and infirmities rendered him incapable of the office, King
was consecrated by the archbishop of Dublin. He straightway re-
paired to his diocese, and found its condition no less wretched than
was to be anticipated from the recent disorder which so universally
impaired and confused all departments of civil order. In the diocese
of Derry, civil war had exhausted its whole train of calamities ; waste

C18 TRANSITION. -ECCLESIASTICAL.

and ruin overspread the country, and involved villages and pastures ;
the churches had been the subject of especial hostility, and were almost
universally laid in ruin; flight alone had saved the clergy from massa-
cre ; and the state of the country which denied them the means of sub-
sistence held out no spiritual motive for their return. All was deser-
tion and dilapidation, confusion and waste. This unhappy state of
things, from which a feebler spirit would have recoiled in despair, cal-
led forth the active beneficence and the efficient energy of the new
bishop. Contributing largely from his private means, which he al-
ways seems to have used unsparingly for public uses, and obtaining by
great exertion the disposal of the large arrears then due on the see
estates, he immediately exerted himself to replace or repair the church
which the army of James had destroyed; and in addition, he built
several new churches.* The clergy he soon collected, and compelled
either to settle in their parishes, or to allot a sufficient maintenance
for good and sufficient curates: not content with this, he supported
many at his own cost, until their incumbencies became adequate to
their maintenance. He was not less careful in looking to the com-
petency of his clergy than to the duties of their station: this was
necessarily a matter of some delay; and as in former cases which
we had to notice in this series, much opposition was to be encountered;
for, as we have had to explain in our memoirs of Usher and Bedell, the
constitution of the clerical body had been from necessity rather irregu-
lar. In his MS. correspondence he says, " I believe no bishop was
ever more railed at for the first two years, than I was at Londonderry,
by both clergy and laity; but by good offices, steadiness in my duty,
and just management, I got the better of them, and they joined with
me heartily in promoting these very things for which they opposed and
condemned me at first."!

A large infusion of dissenting protestants, from Scotland, poured in
at this time, and greatly increased the difficulties we have mentioned.
To these, he opposed only kindness, the example of a christian spirit,
and the superior gifts of reason, with which he was so highly en-
dowed. From Harris we learn that his success was considerable.
To promote the end for which he thus laboured, he composed a trea-
tise, of which we extract the following description: — " A treatise, in
which the argument in vindication of the church's forms of divine
worship are exemplified from holy scripture, set forth in a per-
spicuous method, and enforced by conclusive reasoning, which is calm
and affectionate in manner, free from all bitterness of spirit, and all
harshness of language ; and of which, while some opponents have com-
mended the air of seriousness and gravity, becoming the weight of the
subject, as well as the dignity of the writer's character, no one has
been found to confute its positions, or to invalidate its truth."!

A reply to this essay drew from the bishop an answer which is
valuable for the precise statistic account which it gives of the several
states of the church of Ireland, and dissenting congregations at that
time. It was entitled " An admonition to the dissenting inhabitants

* Mant s Hist, of the Irish Church, ii.
f From the MS. letters of King; Mant. 1 Mant.

of the diocese of Derry, concerning a book lately published by Mr J.
Boyce."

Among- other acts equally creditable to his activity and judgment,
there is one which should not be omitted. Numerous families having
deserted the barony of Inishowen and followed the army of king
James into the south, a colony of Scottish Highlanders came over
and occupied their room. These new settlers, not understanding
the English language, petitioned the bishop for a minister to officiate
for them in their own tongue : the bishop immediately provided two
qualified clergymen, and authorized them to perform divine service in
Irish, which was fully intelligible to the petitioners. One of these
was a curate, paid by the bishop himself. They had at once a con-
gregation of five hundred persons : the example spread, and it having
been ascertained that numerous Highlanders had at different times
gone over to the church of Rome, averring in answer to those who in-
quired their reasons, that, not understanding the English tongue, they
considered it better to take such a step than to have no religion ;
means were adopted in the county of Antrim to remedy such a disad-
vantage, by the appointment of ministers fitly qualified. As authority
for the particulars here but adverted to loosely, there may be cited a
" History of the attempts to convert the popish natives of Ireland
to the established religion," by the Rev. John Richardson, in 1712: the
author says, " by these means many Highlanders and popish natives
are added to our church: whereas, in other places, where such care is
not taken of them, the natives do not only continue in popery, but
many of the Highlanders are drawn off to separate meetings, or to the
Romish superstition and idolatry."

The remaining particulars of any prominence in this interval of
King's life demand, and mostly indeed admit, no lengthened detail.
He was active in promoting the success of a contribution raised by
queen Anne's permission, for the relief of the Scottish Episcopal clergy.
He was one of the six bishops commissioned to determine upon the
fitness of Dr Sheridan to be appointed to a vacant bishopric — an ap-
pointment, which, having been influenced by private favour, without
adequate consideration, was opposed by an accusation at the bar of the
House of Lords, and finally rejected by the decision of the bishops.

While bishop of Derry, King was also appointed in a commission of
three bishops, to judge on the case of the bishop of Down and Con-
nor. This prelate passed his entire time in England, and manifestly
looked no further to the see than his own income demanded. One of
these bishops, Wiseman of Dromore, fell sick, and the decision lay with
Dopping and King, who, on the 13th of March, 1691? suspended him,
and on the 21st, deprived him "for simony in conferring ecclesiasti-
cal benefices, and for other grievous enormities committed in the ex-
ercise of his jurisdiction." The same commission, according to their
authority, proceeded to inquire into the disorders in the same diocese,
which must have been the necessary consequence of so grievous a
want of episcopal superintendence; and after much and vigilant in-
spection, they deprived the archdeacon of five out of nine parishes, and
suspended him from his functions and benefices during the king's
pleasure. They in like manner deprived or suspended several others.

•?n different grounds. These proceedings were acquiesced in ly the ac-
cused parties, with the exception of the archdeacon, who appealed, pe-
titioned, and published his case in a pamphlet of much talent and legal
research; but all to no effect, as he was repeatedly condemned after
fourteen different hearings in different courts.*

Among the several important bills and motions in the Irish parlia-
ment, affecting in different ways the constitution of the Irish church,
at the close of this century, King exerted all the zeal and ability for
which he remains distinguished. On these topics, we cannot enter
here into the same detail that we have occasionally thought expedient
in the merely political division of these memoirs. Fortunately the
history of the Irish church is not, like our political history, yet to be
written : Dr Mant's history, to the highly authentic character of which
we are indebted for much comparative facility in the selection of our pre-
sent materials, we feel, at the same time, to absolve us from the notice of
much which would materially add to our very considerable difficulties,
in endeavouring to produce a popular work on subjects so full of in-
flammatory material. It is indeed easy to state a fad, merely as such:
but we have felt and feel such statements to be so often encumbered with
fallacy and false impressions, that it is hard at times to make the sim-
plest statement without a comment at far more length than its import-
ance would otherwise merit. The change of times has, by a slow and
long revolution, effected many great changes in those principles of expe-
diency which are the essential elements of our social constitution; and
consequently, in our notices of the past we have been compelled to
guard against the comprehensive errors and prejudices arising from
the misapplication of the elements of the present; and the difficulty
has been increased by the partisan character of the numerous historians,
and historical commentators, who have actually availed themselves
(oftenest ignorantly we grant,) of this ambiguity of social events, to
produce popular impressions.

For these reasons we shall avoid twenty pages of mere discussion,
by not entering here upon the strife of parties respecting toleration,
the general principle of which is plain enough: but which may be, and
mostly has been, so interwoven with other objects and principles, as to
demand much and nice consideration from any writer who pretends to
form comprehensive judgments. At a further stage we shall have
occasion to view these matters with that fulness which accurate dis
crimination requires.

Among other bills brought into the Irish parliament in 1695, one
was for the union and division of parishes: it was rejected, for reasons
probably of a nature discreditable to the parliament, as such a measure
must have found considerable impediments in the vast preponderance
of lay patronage and impropriations. Such objections were likely to
have been noticed by King ; and it is mentioned by Dr Mant, from arch-
bishop Marsh's Diary, " the bishops of Derry, [King] and Waterford,
protested against throwing out of the house a bill for union and divi-
sion of parishes ; and in their protestations, having reflected something'
on the house, (as was apprehended,) they were both ordered to withdraw j

• Mant's Hist

WILLIAM KING, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 621

And after some time, the bishop of Derry was brought in, and asked
pardon of the bouse, and was ordered to take his place." King show-
ed his good sense by declining a contest on a mere punctilio: as be
was ready to brave and provoke the house, so far as his duty demand-
ed, he was as ready to give way to wrath, when that duty ceased, and
resistance would be but an ineffectual pertinacity. The bishop of
Waterford, with a zeal not less praiseworthy, yet less governed, held
out, and was sent prisoner to the castle, until he should beg pardon,
and desire his enlargement by petition, which he did after an interval
of three days' confinement.

A series of letters commencing at this period of his life, and throw-
ing much valuable light upon church history, has been recently ac-
quired by the university of Dublin: the learning and characteristic
liberality of this eminent institution may ultimately lead to the publi-
cation of such interesting materials for history. Dr Mant, who has
largely availed himself of them, mentions them as containing "tran-
scripts of almost all his letters of that period, [from 1696, to 1729,]
made in a contemporaneous handwriting for his own use," &c. Much
of his correspondence is indeed scattered among the memoirs and let-
ters of other eminent persons of the same period. Many very import-
ant letters on church affairs in the reign of queen Anne, have been
published in Swift's correspondence. Among those at this earlier period,
there are many which offer the clearest views of passing events, and of
the condition of ecclesiastical affairs. One of September, 1696, strongly
marks the neglect of the Irish church, which was so disgraceful to the
government. " There is one thing I am much concerned at, because
I have heard many take notice of it since I came to town, and it is the
little care that is taken of the church in this kingdom at court, which
between you and me, in policy ought not to be neglected, since it is
surely and apparently the strongest interest in Ireland. We have
several times petitioned for the forfeited impropriations, which are
really worth little ; and yet can by no means procure a letter for them,
though such was never demurred on by any king before, and 'tis not
one single farthing out of the king's pocket.

Notwithstanding the depression of the church in Ireland, and the
evident indifference on the part of government ; yet in the following
year a bill was passed, which, in the course of time, has operated to
amend some of its greatest deficiencies. By this enactment, ecclesias-
tical persons were empowered to build, improve or purchase houses
and lands for their residence, with a right reserved to receive two-
thirds of the sum so expended from their next successors, who in turn
were entitled to one-third of the same entire sum, by a similar claim.

But there is altogether apparent, not only a neglect of the concerns
of the church, but a strong disposition to usurp its rights, and encroach
upon its authority. A letter from King to the bishop of Worcester,
strongly complains of the disuse of the convocation, and the usurpation
of its fiscal powers by the parliament. In the session of 1699, the
clergy were assessed in the House of Commons for the first time ; at
which the bishops were allowed to protest. Another grievance was
complained of by King, who expresses his strong fear that ecclesiastical
preferment would be, for the future, entirely filled from England.

622 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

Extracts which Bishop Mant gives, from the correspondence of King
about this time, speak more than volumes upon his personal character,
on the actual state of the Irish church, and in some measure upon the
condition and habits of society.

Queen Anne succeeded to the crown in March, 1702, on the death
)f king William. The change caused much anxious hope and fear in
the breasts of the two great parties, who were divided by opposite
views on many important interests, and on questions affecting the sta-
bility of the revolution. These agitations, however, belong to English
history, and are worked too much below the surface to be considered as
directly influential on the state of Irish affairs. In England, a deep
game of intrigue renders the short ensuing reign memorable, as an
exemplification of all the falsehood, baseness, and treachery which has
been proverbially, but perhaps with some exaggeration, imputed to
courts and courtiers. But we shall presently have to delineate this
illustration on an ampler scale. King expressed, in one of his letters,
his regrets for the death of his great benefactor, from whose wisdom
so much was to be expected for Ireland.

In the following year, the death of primate Boyle occasioned a suc-
cession of removes and promotions; and King was promoted from
Derry to the archiepiscopal see of Dublin. Connected with this trans-
lation, we find no particulars of memorable interest. The following
letter, written a year after, to the bishop of Norwich, ascertains the
fact of his unwillingness to change, with the reasons : —

" It is above a year since I was translated to this see. I was de-
sirous to decline, if the commands of my superiors and importunity of
my friends had not prevailed with me against my own opinion, to
sacrifice both my ease and profit to their sentiments. My lord, it was
not without reason I was unwilling to remove to this station; for I
had known the diocese thirty years, had governed it for some time,
and knew that it was in worse circumstances (both in respect to dis-
cipline and attendance of the cures,) than most others in the kingdom;
the numerous appropriations and impropriations in it making the due
service of cures and right order almost impracticable: however, I
hoped that by the assistance of those whose interest and duty it was
to help me, I should be able to do something towards a reformation,
though I could not expect all that was to be desired. And I am
heartily sorry to tell your lordship, that I find the greatest opposition
from those that should in reason be most forward to promote my
intentions."

Of the several acts of the Irish parliament in Queen Anne's reign, we
are precluded from treating here, as they more fitly pertain to the sub-
sequent epoch. They will scarcely however even there be found of suf-
ficient interest to the ordinary reader, except as accounting for the mis-
carriage of the Irish church as a great national institute.

King found the metropolitan see in a condition which afforded full
exercise to his talent, liberality, and zeal. The protestant population
had largely increased since the accession of William III,, but there

WILLIAM KING, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 623

jras a deficiency of churches to accommodate its increasing numbers.
He repaired fourteen, rebuilt seven, and built nineteen, in places till
then destitute of any place for divine service. To effect this beneficial
end, he availed himself of the forfeited impropriations, according to
the provisions of an Act, 11 William III., aided by the contributions
of the wealthy protestants of the diocese, to which he added largely
from his own funds. These new churches he supplied with clergymen,
by dividing the contiguous pluralities as any of them became vacant,
and assigning- glebes of twenty acres out of the see lands. In cases
where there was no see land in the parish, he obtained it by purchase.
By these and other means, he brought the parochial system of his diocese
into an efficient condition. It is also to be mentioned, to the praise of
his disinterested liberality, that having in the course of these arrange-
ments trenched considerably upon the income of the see, he took just
care to indemnify his successors, by the purchase of lands, with which
he endowed the see.

Bishop Mant cites a letter from King to Ashe, bishop of Clogher,
which displays in a very strong point of view the soundness of his
judgment, as well as the earnestness of his concern for the welfare of
the church. In this, he urges strongly on that prelate the error and
pernicious effects of the course which he was about to adopt for the
preferment of his brother ; and points out, in terms no less clear and
distinct than conclusive, the disadvantages attending pluralities; and
explains the just and correct course to be adopted for the preferment
of good clergymen — first placing them in such livings as first offered,
and then promoting them to better as they fell vacant — a method to be
praised, as evidently preserving the nearest possible proportion between
merit and reward, efficiency and station.

The inefficiency of the convocation in the year 1705 was a subject
of much anxious disquietude and strong complaint to the archbishop.
The lower house of convocation appear to have proceeded with dili-
gence, and proposed several useful laws, which were however rejected
or not entertained by the upper house, to the great vexation of arch-
bishop King, who, in several letters, complains in strong and often
pathetic terms of the indifference, the want of energy, or the subser-
viency betrayed by many of his brethren.

Among the irregularities which still continued to prevail, in con-
sequence of inadequate provision for the respectable support of the
Irish church, was the difficulty of obtaining persons of perfect compe-
tency to fill the ministerial office. Such a want has always the neces-
sary effect of bringing forward an inferior class of candidates for
ordination; and thus various irregularities must creep in. The indo-
lence and inattention of many prelates permitted such an evil at this period
to rise to a dangerous extent; and among those who sought admission
on easy terms into holy orders, these prelates became distinguished by
the term of ordainers. Against this abuse the archbishop took an
active part ; and, from a letter which was occasioned by some incident
in the course of his proceedings, he mentions the course pursued by
himself toward candidates for orders. " The method I take, when I
ordain any, is this: — First, he applies himself to me in private, and 1

<>24 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

examine him. I never ordain any that I have not known personally
for some time. If he give me satisfaction as to his life, title, and
learning, then I summon four or five of the clergy, according to the
canons, to assist me in the examination, which lasts publickly iuur
days. Each takes such part as is agreed. The candidates exhibit all
their testimonials, titles, &c, and the registrar enters a brief of it.
If any come from another diocese, or be to be preferred in it, I do not
admit him but at the request of the bishop; for I think it reasonable
that every bishop should have the examination of those that are to
serve in his diocese. By this method I have had some trouble, but
have avoided all importunity and surprise about conferring orders,
though I have been a bishop eighteen years."

The cause to which this disadvantage of the Irish church has been
mainly attributed here, is well illustrated also by another statement which
the archbishop makes. Of the fifty ministers in the country portion
of his diocese, the five highest incomes amounted to no more than
£100 a-year. About a dozen were less than £40: some had nothing
certain, and others from £10 to £16. To have raised the clergy of
Ireland from this hapless condition was indeed the most important of
the archbishop's many great services to Ireland; and it may therefore
not be too much to offer some further illustrations of this state of
things, and of the sacrifices and exertions which they elicited from
his zeal and liberality. " In Wicklow and Arklow," he mentions,
in a letter to Mr Wentworth, " the one has ten, and the other
eleven parishes, to make a competency; and 'tis generally so through
this diocese. Each of those ministers has two churches to serve, and
at a considerable distance." To the same gentleman he makes pro-
posals for the purchase of his impropriations, mentions the heavy ex-
penses to which he had already been induced, observing that he was
yet unwilling to lose the opportunity for the purchase of the impro-
priations which Mr Wentworth was desirous to sell. The informa-
tion given here is much extended in another letter to the bishop of
Ferns, at whose diocese the archbishop had been, on his triennial
visitation. In this letter, the pernicious anomaly of impropriation is
strongly illustrated, as it appears from the archbishop's statement. Of
one hundred and thirty-one parishes in Ferns, seventy-one were im-
propriated in lay hands ; twenty-eight were appropriated to the bishop,
dignitaries, and prebendaries of cathedrals, &c; and thirty-two only
in the possession of the working clergy, — these latter being the worst.

Among other proofs of the archbishop's industrious zeal in remedy-
ing the wants of the Irish church, was a form for the consecration of
churches, there having been no authority for the form then in use in
Ireland. It seems to have been considered a matter of much nicety,
on which the English convocation had not been able to agree. The
archbishop used his own form, of which he observes, that some of the
numerous churches he had consecrated were " in a crowd of dissenters,"
to whom the form he used gave satisfaction. This he soon after pub-
lished, under the title of " A Discourse concerning the Consecration
of Churches; showing what is meant by Dedicating them, with the
Grounds of that Office," — this form " having been previously agreed

h at a synod and visitation ot the diocese of Dublin, held in tht
cathedral chuich of St Patrick's" in the same year.*

In the year 1 709> and the following year, great exertions were made
for the instruction of the Irish peasantry, through the medium of their
native tongue. The bishops, in their convocation, introduced the sub-
ject, referring its consideration to the lower assembly, where it was
warmly entertained. A memoir also, from the nobility and gentry,
was presented to the duke of Ormonde. Several of the bishops and
clergy exerted themselves to the same end; but chiefly the primate,
with archbishop King, bestirred themselves with efficacy and zeah
Under the archbishop's patronage, a professor was appointed to teach
the Irish language in the university. He also engaged Mr Richard-
son, who had already been most effectually employed in the same good
service, to " solicit the printing of Irish Bibles, the liturgy, and
an 'exposition of the church catechism, for the people." On this
interesting topic, the reader may find fuller information in our memoir
of the Rev. John Richardson, of whose memoir it will form the
material.

In the same interval of time, the archbishop took a leading part
among the Irish bishops in the important solicitation for the remission
of the first-fruits and twentieth-parts, taxes affecting the church
livings, and payable to the crown. This affair had been previously
brought forward seven years before, but let drop for want of proper
solicitation. It was now committed to Swift, and by him carried to a
successful issue. From his memorial to Mr Harley, we learn that the
twentieth-parts were " twelve pence in the pound, paid annually out of
all ecclesiastical benefices, as they were valued at the reformation.
They amount to £500 per annum." The petition was, that these
should be remitted to the clergy. From the same document, we learn
that " the first-fruits, paid by all incumbents to her majesty on their
promotion, amounted to £450 per annum." Of these it was proposed
to make " a fund for purchasing glebes and impropriations, and re-
building churches."

But Swift, not content with pressing merely these two points,
which went to the full extent of his commission, drew up a second
memorial, in which he also included the crown rents. These were
payable by those parishes of which the queen was impropriator : they
consisted of a half-yearly rent payable by the incumbent, and amounted
to a third-part of the value of the tithes.

The two former imposts were remitted by the queen: the crown
rents were not actually pressed for : Harley, to whom Swift commu-
nicated both memorials, advised the postponement of this part of his
suit for the time, as likely to endanger his success. The patent was
completed, February, 1711, — exonerating the Irish clergy from the
twentieth-parts, and vesting the first-fruits in the archbishop of Armagh
and others, for the purposes already mentioned.

As we are under the necessity of contracting this memoir, we shall
not enter upon the account of the archbishop's earnest and judicious

* Mant's History, II.
U. 2 R Ir.

exertions for an authorized and fit adaptation of the occasional form9
of public prayer.*

For the same reason, we do not consider it expedient to notice the
archbishop's well-directed patronage of some public men, of whom we
must take some separate notice. He was the kind and efficient patron
of Parnell and of Ambrose Philips. His correspondence with dean
Swift is to be found in the collection of Swift's works ; and though we
have not largely availed ourselves of them in this memoir, as they
principally relate to affairs on which it is our desire to be summary,f yet
they have largely entered into our study of the writer, and will afford
us some useful assistance farther on. Swift was at this time in the
climax of his importance in the field of political party, and of his
favour with Harley and St John; and the archbishop displays much
anxiety for his interests, by frequent and urgent exhortations to use
the favourable season for his own advantage. Swift was also in
the full exertion of his extraordinary powers, in that way which may
perhaps be considered their proper application ; and it is sometimes
amusing to read the sage counsels of the grave and powerful divine
and metaphysician to the keen satirist and the adroit partisan, to pro-
duce some great work worthy of his learning and genius. This ap-
proaches sometimes nearly to the effect of an irony, when he appeals
to the same correspondent on the malice of certain persons. " You
see how malicious some are towards you, in printing a parcel of trifles,
falsely, as your works. This makes it necessary that you should shame
the varlets, by writing something that may enlighten the world ; which
I am sure your genius will reach, if you set yourself to it."

Upon the death of the primate, November, 1713, there was an ex-
pectation among the friends of the archbishop that he would be the
person selected to fill that high station; and there can be no doubt
that such a selection must have been the result of a fair and just re-
gard to the character of the individual, or to the real interests of the
church. Such indeed never was, or is likely to be, the primary ground
of choice, though we believe it has been recognised as a subordinate
rule to promote learning, talent, and even piety, when the main object
of party interests might so permit.

If wisdom, piety, and a life of the most exemplary zeal and efficiency
in the discharge of the episcopal duties, were primarily regarded, no
one had a higher claim than archbishop King to the primacy. But,
unfortunately for the occasion, he was looked on as belonging to " the
other party," by a government which professed one set of principles,
and privately acted on another. With their overt declaration, their
pretended principles of action, their settled enactments, and avowed
policy and design in favour of the protestant succession, the archbishop
conscientiously agreed ; but from men who followed a prevaricating
system of dark and underworking manoeuvres in order to counteract
all these principles, unsurpassed by any who had ever wormed their way

* Full information on this subject will be found in Mant's History of the Irish
Church, vol. ii. 251—259.

t They are at this period wholly on the first-fruits.

into royal courts, a man such as King had nothing to hope : as was
said of another great man in after times, " he stood alone," too saga-
cious to be ignorant of the path to preferment, too true to pursue it.
not expecting- or desiring any favour of which he knew the dishonour-
able price : but steadily resisting and denouncing in the only safe or
effectual way the evil practices of others. This is what appears to us
to be the plain explanation, both of his silence as to his own claims,
and his significant reproofs of the conduct of his mitre-hunting and
steeple-chasing brethren.

He preached the primate's funeral sermon on Psalm cxii. v. 6. In
a letter which he wrote on the occasion, he expresses the sense he
entertained of the expediency of doing honour to the memory of one,
whose example might be made effectual to incite others, in a time when
acts of public beneficence were rare. He also incidentally mentions,
as having occurred in the interval since his appointment, the munifi-
cent bequests of Dr Stephens and Sir Patrick Dun, which we shall
have in our next division to notice more at large.

The primacy was filled by the appointment of Dr Lindsay, the son
of a Scotch minister, and at the time bishop of Raphoe.

But the state of affairs which we have summarily explained here, as
we shall be under the necessity of viewing- them more distinctly in
another memoir, had happily its termination. The ministerial intrigues
of that disgraceful cabinet were suddenly paralyzed by the death of
the queen, on the 1st of August 1714. The accession of the house of
Hanover was soon felt in the administration of Irish affairs, but our
immediate concern is with the history of the archbishop. He had
retired for the summer months to a house near Dublin, belonging to
the earl Fitzwilliam, and here he was surprised on the 15th of Septem-
ber by an express from the duke of Shrewsbury, acquainting him with
his appointment as one of the lords justices. Joined with him in this
commission were the earl of Kildare and the archbishop of Tuam.
On the merits and result of this appointment, we should here quote
some sentences from Mr Harris, but we shall in preference offer them
with the comments of Dr Mant, whose paragraph we extract as it
stands. " Archbishop King was uniformly conspicuous for his zealous
attachment to the House of Hanover, and to the succession of the
crown in that protestant family ; as necessary, under divine Providence,
to the security and welfare of the constitution in church and state:"
and Mr Harris confidently attributes it " in a great measure to his
seasonable counsel, and the weighty authority which his known wisdom,
long experience, and confessed probity, had procured him, that the city
of Dublin was preserved steady and united in an unshaken affection
to the succession of the royal family of Hanover." Information of the
archbishop's untainted loyalty and extraordinary merit being com-
municated to the king, caused him to be invested with the highest
trust in the kingdom, which he discharged with such ability and
integrity, and at the same time with so much prudence, moderation,
and kindness, as to occasion the re-instatement or continuance in em-
ployment of many civil and military officers, who had been, or were
in danger of being removed on a suspicion of disloyalty. " This,"
observes his contemporary biographer, " is attested by many now

628 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

riving, who gratefully own the truth of this fact. And it is noto-
rious," he continues, "that by his and the other lords justices' prudent
directions, and steady conduct, during their presiding in the public ad-
ministration, the whole nation was in an even and calm temper, not the
least tending to riots or insurrections, and at a season when our stand-
ing army was transported to suppress the rebellion in Great Britain."

The archbishop had difficulties to encounter, such as might well
abate any satisfaction to be derived from this mark of favour from the
new administration. The spirit of party had run so high; so many
had in several ways committed themselves; the suspicions of the
Whigs were so much on the alert, and their zeal so lively, that it was
a matter of strong fear to the archbishop that some attempt would be
made to make him instrumental to extreme and harsh proceedings,
which he had ever deprecated and would still refuse to sanction. He
was also sensible of the infirmities of ill health, and old age, which
latterly had been growing upon him. He was yet glad to avail him-
self of an occasion which he hoped would increase his means of benefit-
ing the great cause of religion. There were several vacancies in the
church, and there had been hitherto a most scandalous disregard of
every consideration which ought to have weight, in Irish preferments.
The Irish church had been treated as a convenient receptacle for such
claimants as could not be safely provided for in England — and was
thus filled with the refuse and incapacity of the English clergy. It was
also complained of by the archbishop, that the new lord-lieutenants,
who were changed nearly every three years, brought over as chaplains
whoever they wished to provide for. These evils, with others already
noticed, offered a vast weight of discouragement to the archbishop.
He was also strong in his representations of the unhappy consequences
of the entire ignorance which prevailed in England as to the actual con-
dition of the Irish church. The patronage of government was lav-
ished with the most reckless disregard to circumstances, — the sixth of
a diocese, amounting to perhaps twenty parishes, which required the
service of, at least, twenty clergymen, was put together to make up
the sum of two hundred a-year for some claimant, who, as a matter of
course, would consider himself exempt from any residence or sacrifice
of means to provide substitutes. These facts are, indeed, well worthy
of attention, as affording materials for an explanation of the seeming
permanency of the papal communion in Ireland. They could easily
be authenticated and extended. They are here offered to the reader's
attention, on the authority of the letters of archbishop King, which
any one who desires to see, may find in Dr Mant's history. The
lengthened space which they would occupy has made us sparing of
such insertions. The life of archbishop King, indeed, demands a
volume to itself: such a volume would not only contain the most im-
portant portion of our church history, but might be made the vehicle
for the discussion, with regard to Ireland, of several of the most im-
portant questions in ecclesiastical polity.

The weight of the archbishop's influence, continued exertion, and
uncompromising remonstrance and urgency, went far to abate this
evil state of our church affairs. The sees were filled to his satisfac-
tion, and be was enabled by securing the promotion of some of his

own friends to consult most effectually for the interests of religion.
There prevailed for a time, some degree of irritation among the clergy
here in common with those in England — Jacobite feelings could not
fail to infect them largely, and the reputed Lutheranism of king
George was an alarm to some, and a pretext to others. This absurd
apprehension passed away too soon to be dwelt on here. The arch-
bishop, by authority tempered by moderation, kindness, and the influ-
ential counsel of good sense, restrained and quieted the minds of many
in his own diocese ; and we learn from his letters to several bishops,
that his efforts were as assiduously directed to set them right, and to
urge those who might be remiss in their duty.

In 1716, we find the archbishop in England for the recovery of his
health. At this time there was a renewal of his interrupted correspon-
dence with Swift, who seems to have broken the ice on this occasion,
by a letter containing some mention of diocesan affairs, but chiefly
expressive of his sense of the detrimental effect of any estrangement
between the dean of St Patrick's, and the archbishop of Dublin. The
dean was not of a mettle to be complimentary to those from whom he
expected nothing, — by temperament he was stern and sincere, though
under circumstances his inordinate ambition counterbalanced or rather
tempered and refined these coarse virtues; to the archbishop, he shows,
however, a degree of veneration and respect, which could not be
otherwise than sincere, from the justness of his praise and its entire
disinterestedness.

The archbishop's bold and uncompromising character exposed him
to much enmity from opponents, and some prejudice among those who
were disappointed at not finding any partisanship in his adherence.
To him, the truly able and good alone could be friends ; for such alone
could find in him a thorough alliance and co-operation. He was at
this period the more loudly complained of in Ireland, because he was
absent: and there is a letter extant which he wrote expressly in his
own defence, which goes so fully into the detail of his conduct and
motives of action; and conveys so strong an impression of his char-
acter, that we shall insert it here : though long beyond our established
limits of quotation, it will enable us materially to abridge the subse-
quent portion of this memoir.

" Sir, — I received yours of the 19th of Feb., yesterday, and two
before; but have had a long fit of gout in my right hand, which has
disabled me to write, and it is with pain I handle my pen. I thank you
for the account you give me ; as to what concerns my lord primate, I
have nothing to say; but as to my being an opinionative man, and
wedded to my own way, it is no news to me.

" It was the constant clamour of Sir Constantine Phipps, and all
that party, and no wonder, when I am almost single in opposition to
their designs. And I believe I shall take the same way, if I should
perceive anything carrying on to the prejudice of his majesty's pre-
rogative, of the interest of religion, or the public. But I have had the
fortune in everything where I was reckoned to be positive, to be
justified by the event; and, when the mischiefs of the contrary manage-
ment have appeared, then I have universally been acknowledged to

330 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

have been in the right: and I am sorry that I am able to give so
many instances where it so happened. I never yet, that I remember,
stood out against the current of common opinion, but I have, at long
running, either gained my point or seen the repentance of those that
blamed me.

" I hope the diocese of Derry, whilst I was in it, and the diocese
of Dublin, since I came to it, have not been the worse for my steadi -
ness: for so I call that virtue which others call positiveness, opinion -
ative, and being wedded to my own way. The truth is, my ways are
the ways prescribed by the common and by the ecclesiastical laws, and
so ought not to be called my ways ; but generally, the ways of those
that censure me are truly their own ways, being contrary to laws,
canons, and justice. It is easy for a few whisperers in London, whose
designs and practices I have opposed, to tell ill stories, and prejudice
people against any one: but I believe if it were put to the vote of the
people of Ireland to judge of my conduct, I should have as many of
all sorts approving it, protestants, dissenters, and papists, as any of my
easy complying neighbours would have for justifying theirs. Though
I am little concerned about that, my business not being to please men
but God: and he is so good, that when a man's ways please him, he
often makes his enemies at peace with him, and beyond all expectation
his reputation is cleared. You say, the person who discoursed you
acknowledged that I had been and was useful and serviceable to the
church : assure yourself that if ever I was so in anything, it was by
doing those very things that got me the censure of being opinionative
and singular.

" I remember an understanding and sincere friend once ingenuously
told me, that I was too rough and positive in my treating my clergy,
and proposed to me the example of the late bishop of Meath, Doctor
Dopping, a person who was in truth much better skilled in the laws
and constitutions of the church than I was, had the good thereof as
much at heart as any man could have, was of a meek and gentle spirit,
and managed all things with mildness and gentle persuasion. I asked
my friend whether he was well acquainted with the dioceses of Meath
and Derry, and desired him to tell me whether of them he thought in
best condition, as to the churches built and repaired, as to the progress
of conformity, service of the cures, and flourishing of the clergy as to
their temporals. He freely owned that Derry was in a much better
condition as to all these, and that it was due to the care I had taken.
To which I replied, that he knew the churches had been more destroy-
ed in Derry, and the state of the clergy and conformity more disturbed
and wasted than in any place of Ireland: and yet in five or six years
that I had been there bishop, it was put in a better posture by the
methods I took, than Meath was in fifteen by the bishops: and he
might judge by that which of the two were best. I asked also if he
had lately discoursed any of the Derry clergy: he said he had, and
said he found them much altered as to their opinion of my proceedings :
and they thought at first, when I began, that it was impossible to bring
the discipline of the church, and conformity to the pass in which they
were then ; that they found themselves agreeably deceived, both as to
their spiritual and temporal advantages: and thus ended all the loud

WILLIAM KING, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 631

clamours raised at first against my positiveness, singularity, and
tyranny : and I believe you may remember something of this.

" As to the other part that concerns charity, I have been sixteen
years archbishop of Dublin, and can show visibly, besides what is
private, that above £70,000 has been laid out and given to works of
charity, such as building churches, poor houses, schools, and hospitals,
and other pious uses in the diocese, which I think a great deal in so
poor a country. I hope neither my example nor persuasions have given
any discouragement to the good disposition of the donors.

" As to charity schools, I have perhaps more in this city than are
in most of the kingdom; besides, what my opinion was of them seven
years ago, you will see by the enclosed, which is a copy of a letter I
wrote to Mr Nicholson at that time.

" I have only now to add to it, that I observed with great grief,
that the management of many of these schools was got into the hands
of persons disaffected to the revolution and government : and what the
effect of that may be in time, it is easy to judge. I am sure I shall
never encourage them, and will take the best care I can to put them
into right hands in my own diocese.

" Another thing I apprehended, that the clergy, on account of these
schools, may think themselves freed from the most excellent method
proposed for teaching the principles of Christianity in the rubricks
annexed to the Catechism and office of confirmation in our common
Prayer Book, which if enforced and duly executed, would effectually
propagate all the necessary knowledge for christians to all manner of
persons ; whereas the teaching six or seven hundred poor children, the
number of those settled in Dublin, no ways answers the end of our
rubricks which reaches all. I therefore endeavour to put the clergy
on doing their duty, and this is one of my particular ways to which I
am wedded, and which doth not please at all. I have good hope of
these schools, whilst under a strict eye, and in well affected hands,
and whilst they depend on the yearly contributions of well-disposed
christians ; for those will, I suppose, take care that their money be not
misapplied: and schoolmasters and mistresses will take care to give
a good account, for fear they should get no more. But if once they
come to have legal and settled endowments, I doubt they will be
managed as other charities that are on that foot.

" Of what moment I reckon the training up of youth in a right
way, you may see from my printed charity sermon, preached at St
Margaret's, Westminster, on Proverbs xxii. 6.

"I shall add no more, but my most hearty prayers for you: and
that I am,

" Sir, yours, &c.

«W. D*

" John Spranger, Esq., at Henry Hoar's, Esq.
" in Fleet Street, London."

To the just and conclusive vindication contained in this most able
and interesting letter, there is nothing to be added, but that — from all
we have been enabled to discover in the history of his time, or in the
accounts of his life — it contains nothing more than the most rigid and

632 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

'illovved truth. It was not indeed for his faults that King1 at any time
oecame unpopular or obnoxious to any party : his is in truth a very pe-
culiar case of one who courted none, but took up his uncompromis-
ing1 stand on principle : a great and rare distinction in a public man.
Though a stanch supporter of the protestant succession, for which he
did more in Ireland than any other individual, his support stopped
short at the bounds of constitutional expediency and the interests of
the church: and the party which, ascribing to him only those low mo-
tives by which parties are actuated, counted upon him as an adherent,
were irritated to find that when they would have sacrificed the church
and trampled on the feelings of Ireland, they had a firm and able op-
ponent in archbishop King.

The British government — in fact influenced by the struggle against
Jacobitism, from which it had recently emerged — partly imposed on
by the interested, and wholly ignorant of Ireland, soon lost sight of all
consideration but the one: the strengthening of the English interest
in this kingdom: an object, it is true, essential to the improvement of
Ireland, but then pursued without regard to the only principles on
which it should proceed. We cannot enter here into details, for
most of which there will occur more appropriate space ; but in addi-
tion to those acts of misgovernment, already so frequently noticed in
this memoir, and on which the extracts we have given are so explicit,
the criminal negligence of the English government was shown by the
remissness of those appointed as lord-lieutenants, who absented them-
selves altogether, taking no further part in Irish affairs than an occa-
sional visit to enforce some unconstitutional or oppressive and arbi-
trary measure, to over-awe parliament, and provide by church prefer-
ments for a train of needy dependents for the most part unqualified.
At the same time, and in concert with the same system of neglect and
contempt, the English parliament began to assert a jurisdiction of ap-
peal, and a legislative superiority in Ireland: the first, in the suit be-
tween Sherlock and Annesly; and the second, in an act in which the
British parliament was declared to have full power and authority " to
make laws and statutes of sufficient force and validity to bind the peo-
ple of the kingdom of Ireland." A curious blunder to occur in such
a composition: such an act, if it could have any validity, was indeed
equivalent to a " union." On this occasion, as also on the question of
the appellate jurisdiction, the archbishop was one of three or four
peers, who openly expressed his dissent, and gave a strenuous opposition
in his place in the house, as well as by the utmost exertion of his in-
fluence. On the last mentioned occasion he entered a spirited pro-
test on the journals, in which he asserted the independence of Ire-
land.

Such irrespective courses of policy could not indeed fail to alienate
the affections of those, whose support had been on any constitutional
principle. Men who maintained the English interests for the good
of Ireland, and the maintenance of the church, were little likely to
sacrifice these interests for the support of government. And thus it
came, that the archbishop was not without reason looked on about this
time as one of the most influential leaders of the opposition in Ireland.

There occurred at the same time a considerable emigration of protes

WILLIAM KING, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 633

fants from Ireland: it was occasioned by a general rise in the rent of
.heir farms, which was carried by the landlords so far, as to make it im-
possible for their tenantry to subsist: as on former occasions, when their
farms were set up for the highest offer, the papists, who were less pro-
vident in their bargains, could live on less, and were also less pre-
cise as to the payment of their rents, easily outbid the previous occu-
pants, who, being thus dispossessed, left the country in crowds. Advan-
tage of this fact was taken by the dissenters, to represent it as mainly
a consequence of the disabilities under which they lay; and, in com-
pliance with their importunities, a toleration bill was proposed, and
hurried through the Irish parliament. Against this archbishop King
took an active part, and his letters to the archbishop of Canterbury,
and others, contain the most full explanation of these facts and of the
consequent proceedings in the Irish parliament. From his accounts*
it will appear that the dissenters were in reality indifferent as to the
toleration bill, which they had at former times refused, but that there
was at that time some hope entertained among them to introduce the
" solemn league and covenant" into Ireland: a hope for which, indeed,
there was strong grounds, in the neglected condition of the established
church, the consequence of insufficient endowments, an ill-appointed
clergy, and a patronage most unduly appropriated and scandalously
applied by the government. The Irish commons had no great leaning
to the dissenters, but were alarmed by apprehensions of a bill pro-
jected by the government, to prevent which they brought in a bill of
their own, hastily got up, and strenuously opposed in its course by
King, and the other archbishops. It, nevertheless, passed, and was
rendered still more objectionable in the privy council, where it was
altered with a degree of inadvertence, which, in the archbishop's opi-
nion, annulled the act of uniformity. With these general statements
we must hare be content, as we have already exceeded our limits: and
endeavour to confine the remainder of this memoir to the more imme-
diate history of the archbishop.

The English government had taken a warm interest in the measures
to which we have adverted, and George I. had in various public ways
expressed himself in their favour: it may therefore be well conceived,
that the archbishop was not high in favour. The treatment he re-
ceived on every occasion which brought him into contact with his op-
ponents or with the members of the Irish government, seems to have
been harsh. A man like King was not to be depressed by a corrupt
and misguided faction ; but the infirmities of age were growing fast
upon him, and with his ardent zeal he must have frequently felt the
mortification of being incapacitated from those arduous affairs in which
there were so few to take his place.

Considering the temper of venality, selfishness, and subserviency,
which (at all times, the tendencies of public life) were in a peculiar
manner the features of that time, we should be inclined to infer, that a
man so direct and uncompromising in the pursuit of right, and the
observance of duty, and so frank in his remonstrances and suggestions,
must have been to some extent unpopular, among the crowd of official

* These letters may be found in Mant's Hist.

634 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

or political persons. Among this large and honourable class, ther*
are conventional notions, by which men may pursue their private in-
terests to any convenient extent, without sacrificing the consciousness
of honour and virtue, further than human pride will easily permit
To this accommodating virtue a plain speaker is insufferable, and the
more so, because his urgency seldom admits of any reply. Among
the letters already cited here, there are instances enough of this tem-
per; and it would be easy, were it worth while, to pursue a point of
character, to bring together a striking collection of specimens of this
severe simplicity of remonstrances or reproof, urged with a strength
of reason, or a knowledge of facts, such as to create a formidable sense
of the writer's keen and stern rectitude of spirit. An amusing speci-
men may be offered from one of his letters to secretary Southwell: —
" Consider you have received out of Ireland, at least sixty thousaud
pounds since the revolution, which is more than the tenth part of all
the current coin of Ireland; and sure there ought to be some footstep
of charitable work done to a kingdom, out of which you have drained
so vast sums." In another letter, in answer to one in which the same
gentleman complains of gouty ankles, the archbishop tells him that
he wants money to build three or four churches, and suggests, that if
Mr Southwell would contribute a large sum for the purpose, the dis-
charge of the superfluous weight might relieve his infirm ankles : " I
am now," he writes, " going on in my forty-third gouty year, and if
I had not taken care to keep myself light that way, I had certainly
been a cripple long ago : you see then your remedy, pray try it ; a
little assignment of a year's salary, though it may not cure your
ankles, will certainly ease a toe." This is rather rude railing, and
would now be inadmissible perhaps in friendly correspondence; but
we think it indicates in a striking manner the peculiar temper of this
great prelate.

It is about this period that he is alluded to by Swift, in his " pro-
posal for the universal use of Irish manufacture," in a manner which
shows the Archbishop's zeal for the promotion of this object. " I
have, indeed, seen the present Archbishop of Dublin clad from head
to foot in our own manufacture ; and yet, under the rose, be it spoken,
his Grace deserves as good a gown as if he had not been born among us."

We have already noticed the decision in the suit between the
Archbishop and the Dean and Chapter of Christ's Church. With this
body he seems to have had no less than four suits, which had every
one of them been prosecuted through every court of competent juris-
diction in both kingdoms, by writs of error and appeals; and in all
were decided against the Chapter. The Archbishop had throughout
pressed his rights with all the earnest zeal of his character, not from
the mere disposition to maintain his own personal authority ; a reason,
however, fully sufficient; but from his great anxiety to correct the
flagitious irregularities which disgraced that Chapter, which was
remiss in'its proper offices, and regardless of the decent and orderly
regulation and care of their cathedral. " They live in opposition to
all mankind," writes King, " except thei two lawyers Mr Rutley and
Mr Burke; squander away their economy; have turned their chapter
house into a toy-shop, their vaults into wine cellars; and allowed a

WILLIAM KING, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 635

room in the body of their church, formerly for a grand jury room, and
now for a robe room for the judges; and are greatly chagrined at mv
getting two or three churches built and consecrated in the parishes
belonging to their body, which were formerly neglected as several
others still are. Their cathedral is in a pitiful condition; and, in
short, the dean and chapter, and all their members, seem to have little
regard to the good of the church, or to the service of God. This
consideration has made me zealous to settle my jurisdiction over them,
and the same makes them unwilling to come under it."

From all we have stated, it may easily be anticipated that the death
of primate Lindsay, which occurred in 1724, held out no real pros-
pect of further promotion to the archbishop. He was evidently
unsuited to the one sole purpose observed by the government in the
appointments of the church : — ;the prelate who could venture to oppose
any one of their measures, or to offer the slightest indication of
an independent regard to his own duty, — the maintenance of the
church, or the welfare of Ireland, was not the fit material for an
archbishop of Armagh ; and though his friends were zealous for his
appointment, he entertained neither a hope nor desire to change. He
knew what was expected; he also considered the enormous labour
which he should have to encounter in reforming the northern see, and
the strife unsuited to the fast increasing infirmities of his age. On
these points, we may refer the student of ecclesiastical history to
his correspondence with Dr Marmaduke Coghill, Dean Swift, and
others.

On this occasion, the usual agitation of ecclesiastical expectations
and speculations was terminated by the appointment of Dr Boulter,
of whom we shall give some account in a separate memoir. In a
notice on Swift's correspondence it is affirmed, that on Lindsay's death
the archbishop " immediately laid claim to the primacy ;" and that
the reason alleged for a refusal was his advanced age. The annota-
tor goes on to state that the archbishop found no other way of testi-
fying his resentment, except by a rude reception of the new primate,
whom he received at his own house, and in his dining parlour, with-
out rising from his chair; and to whom he made an apology in his
usual strain of wit, and with his usual sneering countenance ; " My lord,
I am sure your Grace will forgive me, because you know I am too old
to rise." The language of this extract is evidently that of an enemy, —
the description of his usual sneering countenance conveys a sentiment
of bitterness. The grave, earnest, and kind, though strenuous, char-
acter of the archbishop is too amply testified by extant documents,
and recorded facts, to leave any doubt as to the entire unsuitableness
of such a description ; but, considering the baseness of the times, it is
not unlikely that such an expression of countenance may have been
that most likely to be elicited by the author of such a note. This
person has, we now know, certainly dealt in flippant assertions without
any justifiable ground, as to the pretended claim of the primacy. As
to the wit, it is very likely to be correctly stated, though falsely inter-
preted by one who could only comprehend some little purpose of a
mean mind. The archbishop was, it is likely, unable to rise from his
chair: the mot was but the frank wit which belonged to his character

636 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

tad could never be mistaken unless by some petty malice, tbat out-
strips its purpose, for a mark of resentment.

The archbishop's rapid decline into the physical infirmities of age,
was such as to exclude him in a great measure from the more public
concerns of Ireland. In the affairs of his diocese, he still took the
same anxious and judicious interest; as his clear and sagacious intellect
retained its vigour and soundness to the last. He was yet disabled
for the discharge of those offices which required the smallest bodily
exertion ; and both in his visitations, and confirmations, received ready
and kind assistance from his brother bishops. The gout by which he had
been periodically visiced for many years now began to return at such
diminished intervals, and with such severe effects, that his death began
to be an anxious subject of speculation, with the Irish government;
and we find the primate taking constant precautions to secure a suc-
cessor who might strengthen his hands in the virtual government of
Irish affairs which was committed to him.

Still, we find the archbishop in the midst of sufferings and infirmi-
ties, and himself looking for the termination of his labours and anxie-
ties; displaying on every occasion, the same alertness to resist what
was wrong or prejudicial to the church and kingdom, and to remedy or
reform what was defective or ill-ordered. He was strenuous in his
remonstrances on the continued abuses of government patronage; and
with the ordinary fortune of those who carry their notion of right
beyond their time, he still experienced not much thanks, and a great
deal of hostility.

He exerted himself with his ancient zeal, but diminished success, to
obtain an increase of churches in Dublin ; and the last letter, written
with his own hand, was addressed to lady Carteret, on this subject.
Through the whole correspondence of these later years of his life,
there continues to run the same strength of understanding, firmness
of principle, and characteristic freedom from narrow and self-reflect-
ing indications. And from the considerable portions of his letters which
we have seen in Swift's correspondence, as well as in the work of
Bishop Mant, who has obtained them from MS. books in the possession
of the university, and elsewhere, we should venture to say, that
were they printed, as we trust they may be, there would be very few, if
any, such collections, so valuable as an illustration of the history of
his time, or of the wisdom, integrity, and singleness of the man.
From several of these before us, we can now but transcribe a few
sentences which we select for their peculiar bearing on his own view
of his approaching death. A letter to Mr Southwell is terminated
with this affecting retrospect. " This day requires my remembering
it; for, thirty-nine years ago, I was imprisoned in the castle by king
James; I pray God make me thankful to him, who preserved me then,
and hath ever since protected and supported me, and hath given me a
long and happy life." In a letter of the next month, to the Bishop of
Killala, he says, " I don't complain of the approach of the night of
death — for that, I thank God, I am not solicitous about; but, it is
uneasy to me to observe, that though the duties of a bishop are in-
cumbent upon me, yet I am not able to discharge them in person."

WILLIAM KING, ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN. 637

[n another letter to the Bishop of Cloyne, written on the same day,
he writes : " I can by no means be of opinion that I have done my
work, or that I should sit down and rest from my labours. St. Paul
has set me a better example, who, when he had laboured a thousand
times more than I, and to much better purpose ; yet did not reckon
upon what was past, but prest forward to the obtaining the prize for
which he laboured. There is no stopping in this course till Grod call
us from it by death. I would have you to propose no other example
but St. Paul himself, and compare the progress you make to his. I am
ashamed every time that I think of the course he ran, when I com-
pare it with my own. I was consecrated on the day we celebrate his
conversion, and proposed him to myself for a pattern. But God
knows, how short the copy comes of the original." And, in this slight
effusion of confidence, we have little hesitation in saying, that it is our
belief that the archbishop's character, and the conduct of his life, should
find the key to its just understanding. Archbishop King died 7th
May 1729, having lived seventy-nine years and seven days.

To the character of the archbishop there are many testimonies ; the
most eminent among which may be reckoned those of Swift and Harris.
We shall here select that of Harris as being by far the most compre-
hensive and appropriate. As to Swift, we may confine ourselves
to a remark of Mr. Nichol's quoted by Bishop Mant, as far more signi-
ficant than anything the dean has written on the subject. "With
no other correspondent are the extravagances of Swift's humour, and
the virulence of his prejudices, half so much restrained as in his
letters to Archbishop King. He certainly feared or respected this
prelate more than any other person with whom he corresponded."
Swift feared no man — of this there are proofs enough — but the salient
levity of his character stood rebuked before the real dignity and
power of a mind which his discernment could not fail to perceive.
Harris writes as follows : — " He appears in the tendency of his actions
and endeavours, to have had the advancement of religion, virtue, and
learning, entirely at heart ; and may deservedly be enrolled amongst
the greatest, and most universally accomplished, and learned prelates
of the age. His capacity and spirit to govern the church were visible
in his avowed enmity to pluralities and non- residence. In his strict
and regular visitations, both annual, triennial, and parochial ; in his
constant duty of confirmation and preaching ; and in the many excel-
lent admonitions and charges he gave his clergy upon these occasions ;
in his pastoral care and diligence in admitting none into the sacred
ministry but persons well qualified for their learning and good morals,
who were graduates regularly educated in the universities of England
or Dublin ; and who were, before their ordinations, publicly examined
in the necessary points of divinity by him, his archdeacon, and some
of his chapter, — ' he may be counted worthy of double honour, who
thus not only ruled well, but laboured in the word and doctrine.'
His hospitality was suitable to the dignity of his station and character,
and the whole course of his conversation innocent, cheerful, and im-
proving ; for he lived in the constant practice of every Christian virtue
and grace that could adorn a public or private life."

The archbishop was buried in the churchyard of Donnybrook,

638 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL

He left, by his will, £400, for the purchase of glebes in his diocese.
He left =£.500, in addition to the same sum formerly given to the
university for the foundation of a lecture in divinity. He also left £150
to the poor of the city ; and he bequeathed the library which he had
purchased from Dr Hopkins, for the use of the gentlemen and clergy
of Derry.

REV. JOHN RICHARDSON.

DIED CIRC. A. D. 1740.

From the time of bishop Bedell, attempts had been made by several
individuals, among the bishops and clergy, for the spiritual instruction
of the Irish in their own tongue. In 1710, circumstances occurred which
tended very much to favour such efforts. By refusing to take the oath
of abjuration, most of the Romish clergy had incurred liabilities which
amounted to a suspension of their functions. The people soon began to
feel the want consequent upon such a condition of their clergy; and
in the course of a little time were glad to have recourse to those of
the English church. The effects were very considerable, and there
arose among the people a very common expression of approbation of
the prayers and services, and a great show of interest in the reading
of the scriptures. Of this it is mentioned as an instance, that two
middle aged men, actually learned to read, that they might themselves
read the sacred writings.

From these beginnings the interest, spread, subscriptions were made,
and numbers of the Irish nobility and gentry joined in a representation
to the duke of Ormonde, then lord-lieutenant, to desire his counte-
nance and good offices ; the duke referred it to the Irish bishops, who
approved and referred it to the consideration of the convocation and
parliament. A petition was also prepared and presented to queen
Anne, who received it favonrably. It is needless here to detail pro-
ceedings, which had no commensurate result: such undertakings as
have the higher ends of religion for their aim will always be treated
with ostensible respect by those who act in the public eye : it is when
the preliminaries of formal respect are done, that they are shuffled
aside in the long and tortuous labyrinth of party and official expedi-
ents and sideways.

Through this period, Mr Richardson, the historian of these efforts,
a strenuous and effective labourer in the same service, was engaged in
exertions of the most exemplary self-devotion, and unwearied toil for
their success. He was patronized by the archbishop of Dublin, and
in order to meet objections to the undertaking, wrote " A short history
of the attempts to convert the popish natives of Ireland," of which
3000 copies were printed, by order of the Society for the promotion
of Christian knowledge, of which he was a corresponding member : ho
also made repeated visits to London for the purpose of providing funds
and obtaining support for the erection of charity schools ; and sub-
scriptions were opened at the Society's house, in Bartlett's buildings, and
succeeded so far as to afford 6000 copies of the Book of Common
Prayer, and of the Church Catechism, with other translations of no

'ess utility for the same purpose. In the efforts which he made for
this purpose, he is supposed to have received assistance from Swift,
whose good offices were engaged by Archbishop King. He is two or
three times alluded to by Swift, in his Journal, and his mission rather
coldly and doubtfully mentioned. The archbishop, in a letter to Swift,
states his opinion, that it was not desired very unanimously, that the
native Irish should be converted. And this was, we cannot doubt, the
main and only effectual obstacle to such a result. The protestant
gentry of Ireland were then, as they have been since, far more zealous
to act upon paltry and erroneous views of self-interest, than either for
the welfare of the country, or the truths of religion. They saw, truly
indeed, that a general conversion of the Irish would both add to the
influence of the church, and that it would raise the people themselves
to a condition of more real power (which is absolutely dependent on
civilization,) by redeeming them from the tyranny of superstitions
which bound them to the earth. But they did not see, that their
own respectability must depend on that of the country, and that the
value of their estates must sooner or later depend on the wealth
of the community: they did not look to the consequence, now become
so plain, that no country can advance to wealth, civilization, and civil
liberty, with the gangrene of perpetual dissension in its bosom: and
that the period must arrive when a dangerous inequality must be de-
veloped, between the popular power, and the popular civilization; for
the one would flow in from the mere connexion with England, while
the other would be dependent upon the dissemination and growth of
the principles of truth and order. These things were not understood
by a large and prevalent section of the Irish nobility and gentry, who
were then willing to keep back the people lest their own church should
be strengthened by their accession, as they have since shown them-
selves equally ready to oppress their own religion, by seconding-undue
and unconstitutional efforts, of which the pretence was to raise the
condition of the people. In both cases have they been found warring
against God, and in both the eventual record of history will be the
mischief they have done, and the retribution they have suffered.

In our own times we are happy to say better prospects have in this
respect arisen ; not from the wisdom of parliament, or the care, patri-
otism, and piety, of the higher classes ; but from the persevering energy
of the church, the clear-headed sagacity of the Irish peasantry, and
the blessing from above which never deserts the truth of God. Con-
troversies of seemingly doubtful issue have had strange effects, even as
yet imperfectly explained: the disputants for the papal creed adopted
the dangerous artifice of comprehensive retractations and denials of the
tenets which they found themselves unequal to defend: a retreat was
covered by virtual concessions ; but a people who had grown up at the feet
of O'Connell were too sharp not to seize upon the consequences. A spirit
of inquiry began; many falsities were rejected; the scriptures ceased to
be the object of a superstitious prejudice ; and at this moment, when there
seems an authoritative and strong accession to the papal cause, popery
is itself unconsciously losing its form, and stealing without recognition
into the principles of the opposite side ; so that there is no extravagance
in surmising, that in the very season of triumph it will cease to exist.

To forward this desirable object should be now the main effort of
every enlightened mind, of every protestant church. And happily no
further obstruction is to be apprehended from either the ignorance of
the peasantry, or the barrier presented by language. Nor are the
people reluctant to hear, or slow to acknowledge, truths spoken in
goodwill. But we must not be diverted further from our record.

The following letter from primate Boulter contains nearly all we
have been able further to obtain of the life of this illustrious christian.
It is written to the duke of Dorset.

" My Lord,

"The deanery of Duach or Kilmacduach, I know not which
they call it, is now vacant by the death of Dr Northcote, worth about
£120 or £140 per ann. I should be very much obliged to your Grace
if you would be pleased to bestow it on Mr John Richardson, rector
of Belturbet : he is a worthy person, and well affected to his majesty,
and was many years ago concerned in a design to translate the Bible
and Common Prayer into Irish, in order the better to bring about the
conversion of the natives ; but he met at that time with great opposi-
tion, not to say oppression here, instead of either thanks or assistance ;
and suffered the loss of several hundred pounds expended in printing
the Common Prayer Book, and other necessary charges he was at in
the undertaking.

" I should be very glad, I could contribute somewhat to make him a
little easy in his circumstances, and procure him by your Grace's
favour some dignity in the church.

" I am, my Lord, &c."
"Dublin, Zd Sept., 1730."

The duke of Dorset consented, and he obtained the deanery ; a sub-
sequent attempt to exchange it for the deanery of Kilmore, worth £300,
a-year failed. A like effort to gain the appointment to be chaplain o»
a regiment, likewise failed from Mr Richardson's inability to raise a
sum of money which it was customary to pay the colonel, on such ap-
oointments.

It appears from a passage in one of the primate's letters, that he
contributed from his private means to Mr Richardson's maintenance.

Richardson was advanced in life at the period here alluded to, and
the last notice we can find of him is in 1734. He is not likely to have
long survived this period.

CHARLES LESLIE, CHANCELLOR OF CONNOR.

DIED A. D. 1722.

Charles Leslie was the second son of Dr John Leslie, bishop of
Clogher. He received the first rudiments of his education at Enis-
killen, and in 1664 entered the university of Dublin as a fellow-com-
moner. He continued his studies in the college until he obtained hia
degree of A.M. after the regular period. He was perhaps designed

CHARLES LESLIE, CHANCELLOR OF CONNOR. 641

tor holy orders by the bishop; but in 1671, on his father's death, he
resolved on the study of the law, which to one of his uncommon powers
of reasoning, must have offered strong attractions. But like many
who are led from their course by such an impulse, he changed his
mind after a few years, and entered upon the study of theology. We
may be wrong in explaining his change of purpose by a very common
succession of motives, of which we could adduce many living instances.
Thepractice of the bar has a charmfor the youthful, at that period when
expertness and ingenuity seem to be the most important and elevated
capabilities of the intellect, and the youthful mind, deeply engaged in
acquiring the methods and principles of reasoning, has not yet obtained
an adequate notion of their proper aim and end. The bar alone retains
the ancient character of a system of dialectic antagonism, and thus
appears to offer a fair field for the prowess of the young logician.
There is, however, a wide chasm of probation to be passed, of which
the youthful aspirant has seldom formed any notion: but, during his
attendances at Inns of court, — while forming a first acquaintance
with the true principles, the practice, and the members of his in-
tended profession — he begins to perceive that a long course of duller
and drier studies must be passed, and years of less ambitious drudgery
must elapse before he can acquire the enviable privilege of chopping
chancery logic. In the mean time, if he may chance to have, like
Charles Leslie, an intellect bent for the higher applications of reason
in the broader and loftier field of philosophic research, and the investi-
gation of truth, his reflecting powers will often be drawn aside by the
many profound questions, doubts, and speculations, which are in
numberless forms presenting themselves to every thinking person.
And there is no one path of professional study so various or so wide
in the range of truths it offers, or so fertile in true and satisfactory
solutions, as that of the theologian. The real aim and end of human
existence — the history and destinies of man — the true grounds of
motive and obligation — the mingled web of good and evil in moral and
physical nature — the foundation in fact and probability of all these,
while they offered a grasp to the comprehensive intellect not to be
found in any other pursuit; at the same time appear in a sounder,
more simple, and satisfactory form, in the writings of our great
English divines, than in the confused and contradictory speculations
of mere philosophy. Indeed, there is a result which not unfrequently
has occurred, when the bar was less educated than in the present day ;
and therefore liable to admit the taint of that infidel tone which is the
frequent result of shallow ingenuity combined with ignorance: in a
circle thus constituted, a scholar like Leslie would be very likely to
be thrown upon an anxious effort to recollect and keep in view the
rational grounds of faith. Nor would it unfrequently occur, that he
might be compelled to stand upon his defence and wield those powers,
which were so happily displayed in his argument against the Deists,
and which have made the world his debtor.

After nearly nine years spent in the study of iaw, ne entered into holy
orders in 1680, and in a few years more, was appointed chancellor of
the cathedral church of Connor. About the same year, an occasion
presented itself for the exercise of his controversial powers. The

ii. 2 s Ir.

642 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

bishop of Clogher having died, the see was filled by the appointment
of a bishop of the Romish church, by James II. This bishop, -whose
name was Patrick Tyrrel, brought several well-trained disputants
along with him, and at his visitation had recourse to the sing-ularlv
indiscreet step of proclaiming a challenge to the Protestant clergy:
these, on their part, were then, as ever, willing to maintain their pro-
fession, and Leslie accepted the challenge. Of the result we have no
distinct record ; but, at a second meeting for the same purpose, he met
two very eminent persons selected for the occasion, in the church of
Tynan in Armagh, before a very crowded assembly; and his success
is more distinctly indicated by the fact, that Mr John Stewart, a
gentleman of respectability, was so convinced that he renounced the
papal creed.

In the same troubled period, when there was a confusion of public
authorities occasioned by the efforts of James II. and his party, to
substitute papists for protestants in every post of authority, an in-
cident occurred which manifests the influence which Leslie's re-
putation had gained by his talent and probity. A sheriff of the
papal faith was appointed in Monaghan: the gentry of the country
took the alarm, and flocked to Leslie for advice. His advice
was given ; but they requested his personal attendance on the bench
at the approaching sessions, as a justice of peace; and promised faith-
fully to support him. He had the gout, and was carried with much
severe suffering to court. There, a question was put to the sheriff,
" whether he was legally qualified :" he answered that " he was of the
king's own religion, and that it was his majesty's will that he should
be sheriff;" Leslie then told him "that they were not inquiring into
his majesty's religion, but whether he had qualified himself according
to law, for acting as a proper officer. That the law was the king's
will, and nothing else was to be deemed such, &c. :" — on this, the sheriff
was committed for intrusion and contempt, by the bench.

This spirited conduct is, indeed, the more creditable to Leslie,
because it stands separated from all party feelings, as his known poli-
tical prepossessions lay entirely in the opposite direction. Though
like every person of honest heart, and sound understanding, he con-
demned the treacherous and unconstitutional proceedings of James ;
yet, on the other hand, he refused to recognise the extreme case
which had arrived. Like a few other honest and able men, his mind
submitted to a prejudice which had grown up in the hotbed of absolute
power, and under the shade of despotic thrones maintained by papal
power. The notion of an indefeasible divine right had not yet been
assailed by the writers of the revolution. And while the plain common
sense of the practical part of the nation followed the suggestions of an
apparent necessity ; some who, like Leslie, had been trained within the
pale of theories and systems, sternly adhered to the lessons they had
learned in their school of constitutional theory. This, in our opinion,
is the true account of this seeming absurdity in a man of Leslie's pro-
found understanding. And we cannot help considering it important
for the purpose of reconciling the able understanding in controversies
and questions, with the seeming inconsistencies and practical errors
of this truly able and good man, to remind the reader of the differ-

CHARLES LESLIE, CHANCELLOR OF CONNOR. 643

ence which occasionally offers itself in experience between the precise
and deep thinker, and the prudent and practical man of the world.
The several qualifications of such persons are both common enough,
perhaps in their separate perfection ; but it does not very frequently
happen that they are found together. A large development of the
powers of external perception, and a profound expansion of the facul-
ties which can familiarly move in the depths of abstraction, include
some opposing habits, and perhaps conditions of the understanding
There is, thus, a simplicity in the philosopher which sometimes
exposes him to be the dupe of shallow knaves; and that such was
characteristic of this illustrious divine, there is much evidence in his
life, and even some in his writings. Of the first, we shall presently
offer specimens enough: of the latter, we may adduce in evidence
some facts which we would fain dismiss before we proceed further.
We mean his strange contradiction of the statements of archbishop
King's well-known history of those troubles of which he was an honest
and sagacious witness, and which, from their nature, and the promi-
nent character of the events which they relate, admit of little mistake.
Now, it must be observed, that the whole history of the archbishop,
and all his letters and other writings, plainly manifest all the indica-
tions which can be sought for of sagacity and integrity. During the
troubles in question, he was not only an intelligent and watchful
actor, but he was also placed in a position the very best for observation.
Any one, however able, may be liable to err in his public senti-
ments, or in his deductions of political consequences ; but, it is only a
fool who can be persuaded that he is in the very midst of a scene of
outrage, oppression, and flagrant crime, where there is all the time
little or no ground for it. The writers who would impute such folly
cannot have considered the numerous absurdities which it involves;
and they who would suspect the whole to be a mere party statement,
either have not reflected on the high character of the writer, or must
themselves think truth and falsehood matters of entire indifference.
Again, to apply similar considerations to Leslie — he was not a witness,
— he was a zealous partisan — his temper was pre-eminently contro-
versial— and though a reasoner of unequalled power, he was far from
possessing either the knowledge of Irish affairs, the observant sagacity,
or the neutral spirit of Archbishop King. Thus modified by circum-
stances and natural temper, the several courses pursued by these two
eminent men are to be compared. King, when he had adopted the
principles of the most eminent whigs, the same which time has
pproved, pursued them without manifesting the slightest tendency to
party; and when the revolution was confirmed, applied himself to
his own official duties with an active and uncompromising zeal which
gave offence to the government, who were disappointed to find no
subserviency in one who had given them a constitutional support, and
was as ready to offer a constitutional opposition. And such is the
person who has been accused of publishing in the face of a million of
adverse witnesses, a collection of the most outrageous and monstrous
lies. Such a charge demands better authority than has been yet
found.

Now, on the other hand, let us look again at Leslie's course of conduct

Being1 infirm from disease, and obnoxious on account of his contro-
versial achievements — on the first breaking out of the troubles, he
retired with his family to England. There the contest being mainly
one of political feeling, he entered, with zeal, into sympathy with the
Jacobites; and, having adopted a mistaken principle of irrespective
loyalty, he entered with all the spirit and ability of his character, into
the controversy which was carried on by pamphlets on either side.
His first Essay was the answer to King's statement; written, away
from the scene, and without any authority whatever, but the strong
and daring contradictions of angry and fugitive Jacobites, — the eye-
witnesses whom he is said to have questioned. Of these, some
were vindictive, some terrified; many careless of assertion, and will-
ing to derive the importance attached to strong statements; and few
had seen more than the local incidents connected with their own
immediate apprehensions. Among these, the philosophic divine, honest
and ready to trust in those with whom he had a common feeling,
looked for information, and found such information as may now be
found in rival newspapers.

Assuredly, it is not too much to say, that such a pamphlet as was
written under such circumstances, and on such authority, would never
be cited by any respectable historian, against the statements of King,
which have all the authenticity of which history admits. And also,
that confirmatory evidence which we have already explained in these
pages;* that is to say, that which arises from a view of the whole
history of the time, as well from the avowed designs as the express
admissions of the parties. We must now revert to our history.

Though Leslie considered resistance to illegal proceedings, justifi-
able, it did not occur to him to follow out such an assumption to its
extreme consequences; and, having refused to take the new oaths, he
lost all his preferments. In 1689, he went with his family to live in
England, where, as we have stated, he devoted his talents to the
support of the cause which he conscientiously adopted; and there can
be no doubt but, had that cause succeeded, his efforts must have found
their reward. He quickly rose to such importance by this means, as
to incur the suspicions of government, as well as to rise into high
favour with the exiled court. It was soon observed that he made
frequent visits to France, where he was received with distinction at
St Germains. On the publication of a tract asserting- the " Heredi-
tary Right," he found himself an object of suspicion, and retired to
Bar-le-duc, to the pretender's court, where he was received with dis-
tinction, and the favour which his zeal had earned.

While in the pretender's court, he is said to have exerted himself
to convert him to the protestant faith. His influence was also proved
by a permission to read the service of the church of England in the
family. But the pretender never appeared on these occasions, though
it is asserted that he promised to hear all that Leslie had to say upon
the errors of the church of Rome, — a promise which he took care to
break. Leslie's zeal seems to have been courageous, and perhaps im-
portunate— as it was thought necessary to prohibit controversy among

* Life of the Earl of Tyrconnel.

CHARLES LESLIE, CHANCELLOR OF CONNOR. 645

ihe members of the household. These particulars we have here thrown
together more briefly than their interest would seem to require,
as we are anxious to do this illustrious divine the justice of devoting
the rest of the little space which can be allotted to his memoir, to the
statement of his claims upon our gratitude. On his character as a
Jacobite, we need enter no further than to observe that it was strictly
a sacrifice to conscience, though (very naturally perhaps,) misrepre-
sented in his own time by party. His conduct was one of those cases which
has often occurred, and will often occur, and always be misrepresented:
when a person, in the strictest adherence to his own political theory,
must change sides in merely following out his principles, it is on such
occasions forgotten that party is not necessarily consistent, and that —
considering that it is seldom the creature of pure theory — its system of
action may involve both opposite courses, and inconsistent principles.
In Leslie's instance, it is true that this was not precisely the fact ; his
own theory contained the inconsistencies, but he was himself consist-
ent in adhering to it. Bishop Burnet, who mentions him as a violent
whig, who suddenly changed to the Jacobites,* does him great injus-
tice. He resisted unconstitutional efforts to subvert the laws and the
protestant church ; but maintained the allegiance which he considered
as having as binding a claim upon him.

In 1721, he came over to England, from the natural desire to "die
at home at last." His character, well known as a formidable writer
on the tory side, quickly exposed him to notice; the whigs were then
in office, and lord Sunderland received an intimation of his being in
the country. This, it is almost needless to say, was disregarded, and
Leslie was allowed to return unmolested to Ireland. He did not long
survive, having died in the following year at his own house of Glas-
lough, in the county of Monaghan.

Besides those political tracts which were so important in their day,
Leslie left works of great and permanent interest, which entitle him
to a high place in the first rank of theological writers. In the hurry
and vicissitudes of a life of unusual agitation and trial, he not only sus-
tained a prominent character in the struggles of his time ; but also left
two folios replete with sound and able views upon all the leading
controversies of the age. He maintained the Christian religion against
the Jew — the protestant creed against that of Rome — he proved the
divine institution of baptism against the Quakers — vindicated episco-
pacy against presbyterians — the divinity of our Lord against the
Socinian — and the truth of the gospel against the Deists.

As the most generally important, and least connected with any
class of opinions to which respect need be preserved, we select the
last for the exemplification of the writer's powers. We shall first,
however, quote a few general sentences of just and characteristic
praise. " The members of the church in general, not only of his own
but of succeeding ages, have acknowledged the debt; and the works
of Charles Leslie still continue to be held in esteem; not indeed for
the allurements of an elaborate style, but for their soundness of argu-
ment— their perspicuity of reasoning — their earnestness of sentiment

* Own Time, vol. ii. 323 Ed. Dub. 1734.

346

TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

— and withal, their substantial support of the Christian verity." Of
Leslie's argumentative powers in particular, Dr Johnson had formed
a high estimate. Having on a certain occasion, as Boswell tells,
spoken slightingly of the reasoning of the nonjuring divines, and made
objections to the several claims advanced in favour of William Law,
of Jeremy Collier, of Kenn, of Kettlewell, in answer to the question,
" What do you think of Leslie ?" he said, " Charles Leslie, I had for-
gotten; Leslie was a reasoner, and a reasoner who was not to be
reasoned against"*

Of the argument against the Deist, an interesting history is given
by its editor, Mr Jones, who received the particulars from Dr Delany,
dean of Down, on the authority of Captain Leslie, the author's son;
this we shall give in Mr Jones' own words. " It was the fortune of
Mr Leslie to be acquainted with the duke of Leeds of that time ; who
observed to him, that although he was a believer of the Christian
religion, he was not satisfied with the common methods of proving it :
that the argument was long and complicated, so that some had neither
leisure nor patience to follow it, and others were not able to compre-
hend it: that as it was the nature of all truth to be plain and simple,
if Christianity were a truth, there must be some short way of showing
it to be so, and he wished Mr Leslie would think of it. Such a hint
to such a man, in the space of three days, produced a rough draught
of the Short and Easy Method with the Deists, which he presented
to the Duke, who looked it over, and then said, ' I thought I was a
Christian before, but I am sure of it now — and as I am sure of it now
— and as I am indebted to you for converting me, I shall, henceforth,
look upon you as my spiritual father!' And he acted accordingly; for
he never came into his company afterwards without asking his bless-
ing. Such is the story, very nearly as Dr Delany would himself tell
it, if he were now alive."

The proof of cbristianity offers by far the most perfect exemplifica-
tion of the laws of probable reasoning through their whole extent:
being in fact the only case which is complete in all its parts. And
thus it happens that there is no other event in history, which admits
of being proved by so many distinct arguments; and there is no me-
thod of applying either the rules of evidence, or the laws of moral
reasoning which cannot be used with the most conclusive rssult. The
superior intellect of Leslie is manifested in discovering the oncurrent
force of certain main arguments, which had been always separately
understood by christian apologists. This combination offers a proof of
such surpassing force, that there is no direct answer but the one which
denies certain data, which, being facts beyond the reach of denial, has
not, and will not, be attempted by the deist, who has thereby been
forced to evade the argument in a manner which has only served to
leave a most curious test of its validity. To understand this interesting
fact, Leslie's proposition must be stated. It is briefly this, that certain
conditions are fulfilled in the history and present state of Christianity,
which are entirely irreconcilable with falsehood. Mr Leslie's method
consists in the statement of four conditions " of truth in matters of fact

* Mant's History, 11 — 39. See also Boswell, by Croker, viii. 287.

CHARLES LESLIE, CHANCELLOR OF CONNOR. 647

Jn general, such that when they all meet, such matters of fact cannot
de false." He then shows that they all meet in the several histories of
the Mosaic and of the christian religions.

The rules are : — " 1 st. That the matters of fact be such as that men's
outward senses, their eyes and ears, may be judges of it. 2d. That it
be done publicly in the face of the world. 3d. That not only public
monuments be kept up in memory of it, but some outward actions be per-
formed. 4th. That such monuments, and such actions or observances,
be instituted, and do commence from the time that the matter of fact
was done." As Mr Leslie's method is a brief method, it would be im-
possible for us here to give a summary of the admirable statements and
illustrations by which he applies these four rules. But as numerous
readers may not from our statement see the whole force of the argu-
ment, on account of the separate insufficiency of the rules, it may not
be amiss briefly to point out the connexion.

The first guards against the witnesses being deceived by any kind
of sleight ; the second, against their imposing on the public by a
false story; the third secures the most authentic species of evidence
to after times ; and the fourth prevents the possibility of this evidence
being spurious. Now the peculiarity of this combination is, that any
three of these rules might be fulfilled consistently with some form of
imposture, either at the time, or after, while the four amount to a
clear and demonstrative exclusion of all the possibilities of falsehood.
This is indeed at first sight so apparent to any practised reasoner, that
we have always been inclined to feel some doubt on the story of the
celebrated deist, Middleton, who is mentioned on very good authority to
have for twenty years vainly exercised ingenuity of no inferior order, to
find a case of undoubted imposture which would satisfy the four con-
ditions.* He might assuredly have as well endeavoured to find a rec-
tilinear triangle having the sum of its angles not equal to 1 80°. For
if there are conclusive proofs that the witnesses of a fact were not de-
ceived themselves, and could not have deceived others, there could have
been no deception. The general proposition is an absolute demon-
stration, not dependent on the nature of the facts, but on the most strict
assumptions that reason could propose as tests of evidence.

To this severe test, Leslie next proceeds in circumstantial detail to
apply the evidences of the two great scriptural dispensations. This
little volume we most earnestly recommend to the perusal of all our
readers of every class. For those, whose faith is inclined to be un-
steady, it will do as much as can be hoped for from mere human rea-
son. For those who are confirmed, it will arm them with the most
convenient and ready weapons against that infidel spirit which exists,
and must exist, while human nature continues in its present state of
sinful alienation ; for, infidelity, quite unfounded in the legitimate use
of reason, is but the development of the carnal temper of the heart —
" deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, — who shall know
it?"

This one of Leslie's admirable tracts may serve as a specimen of

* " This," writes Mr Jones, " I learned from Dr Berkeley, son to the celebrated
bishop of Cloyne." Preface to Leslies Short Method, J 799."

the others : all of which evince the same clear and unencumbered vigour
of intellectual power, though, from the nature of their subjects, they have
not all the same interest at the present time.

FRANCIS KIRWAN, ROMAN CATHOLIC BISHOP OF KILLALA.

BORN A.D. 1589. — DIED A.D. 1671.

Francis Kirwan was born in Galway in 15S9. By his mother he
was descended from the Linches — a branch of the De Lacys — a family
descended from the knight of that name, recorded in our biographies of
the Conquest, of whom it is said that more members held the office of
Mayor of Galway than of any other family in that city. His father is
said to have claimed descent from Roderick, one of the early Irish kings.
He received the first rudiments of education from an uncle who dis-
charged the priestly office, and taught a school in that ancient city
under difficulties and dangers arising from the persecutions then
attendant on the discharge of these duties by the Roman Catholic
clergy. From Galway Francis proceeded to Lisbon to study in the
higher classics. Returned thence to Ireland, he was ordained priest in
1614, being then in his twenty-fifth year. In 1615 he proceeded to
France, and studied in the congregation of the Oratory at Dieppe ;
where he taught philosophy some years after, and until he was removed,
against his inclination, by another maternal uncle to the University of
Louvain in Belgium, and to the presence of the then Archbishop of
Tuam, Florence Conry, a learned and opulent Irish priest, who was
then in search of a fit person to represent him in the office of Vicar-
General in Ireland, and to succeed in that office the uncle referred to,
banished from Ireland for complicity in the attempted rebellion of the
last Earl of Tyrone. Young as Kirwan was, he was judged qualified,
and accepted the office with alacrity, proceeding to Ireland in 1620 to
discharge its onerous duties. So long as he held it, he travelled on
foot once a-year over the entire district, including the Wilds of Conne-
mara and the Arran Isles, satisfied with the humblest fare, reproving
evil-doers, correcting the irregular lives of the clergy, and removing,
until qualified by study, the ignorant and incompetent, and retaining
them for that purpose under his own roof, as well as many of those
who were preparing themselves for holy orders. Out of his limited
revenues he exercised a generous hospitality ; aided in fitting up and
equipping the private residences acquired by the priests for religious
services during the limited period of the reign of Charles I., when these
were winked at, until the alarm of the Puritans constrained the autho-
rities to seize and confiscate them ; founded a lazar-house for the lepers
whom privations had afflicted with that malady, now happily unknown ;
refitted with chimneys, windows, and decent furniture the hospital of
Galway ; bestowed alms with discriminating liberality on the non-
mendicant poor and prisoners ; and urged to similar acts of charity
those over whom he had any influence. As a peace-maker he exerted
himself to compose differences and end law-suits. Many cases before
the Courts having been settled by his solicited arbitrations, the legal

practitioners, being left without expected emoluments, obtained a war-
rant from Dublin for his apprehension ; but the Protestant governor of
G-alway Castle, to whom it was sent, admiring his virtues, not only
warned him to keep out of the way when his house was searched, but
was preparing to send another of the same name in his stead, until he
learned the latter was the father of a large family, and let him go.

Although denied the open exercise of their religion, the Roman
Catholic laymen were not then prevented from exercising civil offices,
and when magistrates and peers in their exercise of such failed to do
justice, or oppressed their suitors, or those accused before them, Kirwan
did not fail to approach them and mildly warn them of the consequences
in terms that rarely failed to keep them in the paths of rectitude.
Against the evils of intemperance, which then prevailed among the
craftsmen of Galway, especially in their guild meetings, he firmly set
his face, and succeeded in establishing stated meetings, in which each
craft assembled in turn, and which were by an ecclesiastic successfully
exhorted to renounce taverns and drunkenness, and devote themselves
to industry and frugality. Nor, when necessary, did he cease to con-
fine himself to moral suasion. He was eminently master of the ver-
nacular, and could produce great effects in it on the minds of his
hearers. Having established monitors in each parish, who returned to
him the names of those therein who lived in great immorality, when
admonitions on his parochial visitations failed, he did not spare his
authority, which he carried to an extent which only the disordered state
of the country permitted to use. Magnifying the consequences of
excommunication (as involving the loss of ordinances and recognition
of friends), before proceeding to read the names of the guilty present,
he struck such terror into all, and such shame in the delinquents, that
these last hid themselves behind the crowd, and then, turning to the
memorandum, he said he would desist for this time in the hope they
would henceforth lead proper lives. He even caused to be publicly
whipped by his order those who obstinately persevered in adultery, nor
would he re-admit to the sacrament those whom he had cut off until
they had made public penance with reparation for the evil done.

He also gave himself much to works of utility. He built bridges
over brooks and rivers, and stone crossings over marshy places. On
one occasion the Protestant Archbishop of Tuam was surprised to see
men employed by him building a bridge over the stream near by the
archiepiscopal palace of that city, which could often not be forded in
winter, but when on inquiry he learned they were employed by Kirwan,
he not only desisted from forbidding the work, although within his
jurisdiction, but caused refreshments to be supplied from his palace to
the workmen. This Protestant archbishop was William Daniel, a
learned and good man, who translated the New Testament into Irish,
with which language, being a native, he was familiar.

Kirwan administered the affairs of the archdiocese of Tuam for nine
years, until the death of Archbishop Conry in 1629 ; declined all offers
of his friends at Rome to procure his own appointment to the charge on
the occasion of the vacancy ; discharged the duties of his former office
until he was re-appointed by Malachy, the successor in the see ; and
continued to exercise it for seven years longer, when he resolved to

650 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

" ■ — ■ i ■ ■ .^f

resign it in order to conduct a number of young men to France, there
to receive an education of the highest character, to qualify for the
priesthood in Ireland, and especially in his diocese of Tuam. So
greatly was he esteemed, that to avoid a vast concourse of all classes
who assembled to witness his departure, he left Galway by another
gate, yet about forty of them took horse and accompanied him, some of
them as far as Dublin, and one even through England to France.

The seminary which, after some delay on account of illness, he set up
in Caen was some years afterwards broken up by the interruption of
communications with Ireland on account of the wars of the Great
Rebellion ; and therefore of the remissions of the funds for its support.
Kirwan then proceeded to Paris, and occupied himself in preparing and
forwarding supplies of various religious orders into Ireland. During
this period he firmly resisted entreaties to be invested with the Epis-
copal order, until Archbishop Malachi, from whom they chiefly pro-
ceeded, obtained from the Pope, in 1645, not only a commission to
appoint him Bishop of Killala, bnt instructions to the Nuncio at Paris,
to whom the bull was sent, to join with others to press its acceptance
upon him, in which, notwithstanding his modest reluctance, they ulti-
mately succeeded, and Kirwan returned to Ireland and to his charge
in 1646.

During his residence in Paris, Kirwan acquired the intimacy and
favour of three men, more remarkable for their exalted piety than any
to be found at this time in that metropolis, viz., St. Vincent de Paul,
Father Geoffrey, and the Baron de Renty ; the first the founder of the
order of missionaries ; the second, like another Howard, spent his life
in alleviating the misery in, and of the jails ; and the last, one who
devoted his large fortune and his life to the relief and instruction of the
poor. On the advice of these three friends Kirwan gathered together
the Irish students then in Paris, with the object of instructing them, and
then sending them back- to Ireland as lay teachers and conservators
there of the knowledge of the Roman Catholic faith, having been
assured by them that ample means would be provided for the support
of the scheme. No sooner, however, was the proposal announced by
Kirwan than a storm arose ; one of those present broke out into invec-
tives against him as insincere, and a pretender to virtues which he did
not possess, Francis bore this unexpected attack with patience, and
even gave assistance to those who had been his disciples, for through
his intimacy with Father Charles Taure, then appointed general of the
order of the Canons Regular in France, he obtained admission of some
of them into this order, which he held in high regard. And after he re-
turned to Ireland, he caused one of his former pupils to repair to France
from Seville in order to take the oversight of the rest of them. Through
his intimacy with the foundress of the Ursaline Convent at Caen, he
obtained, that a few talented Irish maidens might be received gratui-
tously in her establishment, in order that they might be instructed in her
rule, so as afterwards to introduce at her expense, and advance, when
circumstances permitted, that order in Ireland — an order which devotes
itself exclusively to the education of females in a thorough fitness for
all the duties of a refined and Christian life.

During the brief interval of tranquillity following his return, Kirwan

FRANCIS KIRWAN, ROMAN CATHOLIC BISHOP OF KILL ALA. 651

applied himself to the duties of his sacred office with self-denying
assiduity, especially to those which concerned the indigent, and the in-
mates of jails and of hospitals. He was constant in his attendance at
the General Assemblies of the kingdom, held in Kilkenny and Waterford,
and for the sound judgment and perspicacity shown by him on the matters
brought forward, as well as his great prudence, he was elected to the
Supreme Council. He acquired through his great reputation the favour
of the Marquis of Clanricarde, whose noble descent and princely for-
tune, as well as adornments of mind, led to his being appointed Lord
Lieutenant by Charles L, when his affairs in Ireland became desperate,
greatly to the satisfaction of the Irish Catholics, being the first appoint-
ment of one of their faith to that office since the period of the Reforma-
tion. Both before and after this appointment, Kirwan was a frequent
guest at the Castle of Portumna, the residence of the Marquis, on the
occasion of his journeys, as it lay in his route to Kilkenny and Water-
ford. Gifts of large amount, offered to him by the Marchioness and
other noble persons, on such occasions were invariably refused by him,
nor would he even allow his servants to accept of them, on the alleged
ground that their losses from the perilous times would not allow such
customs, although common in past times ; but it is probable he also
wished to be free from obligations that might influence him in his public
conduct during that critical epoch.

With a boldness consistent with his character, he did not hesitate to
join with the moderate Catholic party in the supreme council, in oppo-
sition to, and notwithstanding of the decree of excommunication hurled
against that party by the Papal Nuncio in 1648, on account of the
articles of peace entered into by them with the Earl of Inchiquin on the
part of the king. This conduct was the more praiseworthy, as the Nuncio
had expressed extreme friendship towards him from his first appearance
as a bishop in Ireland, and had invariably availed himself of the assist-
ance of Kirwan in consecrating Irish prelates. But the aim of this ill-
advised and intemperate ecclesiastic, an Italian named John Baptiste
Rinuccini, being the total and forcible expulsion of the Protestant
population, as well as the disruption of English connection and rule,
was the opposite of the peace and tranquillity of Ireland on which the
affections of Kirwan were set, as well as that of all but the few fanatics
of the northern provinces, whose aim was rather to restore anarchy and
barbaric power than even the predominance of their faith in that
unhappy country, for the attainment of which end they did not hesitate,
with the consent of the Nuncio himself, to form an alliance with one of
the generals of the commonwealth, so as to embarrass the confederation
in support of the king. Some time afterwards, when the royal authority
was overthrown, Kirwan did not hesitate to submit to the authority of
the Church by asking absolution from that excommunication, although
it was doubtful, at least, whether bishops could be included in any
formal excommunication unless actually named. But he acted, says his
biographer, on the counsel of St. Jerome, who says, "We may seek
forgiveness without a fault, when we deem it wiser to restore peace
than to fight battles upon equality."

During these troublous times he was driven from his see by the forces
of the northern Catholics of the party of Sir Phelim O'Neill, and forced

652 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

to take refuge in Galway, but returned in August 1649, when a brief
ray of tranquillity had shone on Connaught — a severe pestilence having
in the meantime broken out in that city — and remained there until
July 1651, when he led as many of the forces of the district as he
could raise to the relief of the city of his refuge, then laid siege to by
the Parliamentarians, causing a priest to precede him with a cross
raised, and calling on the people to fight for their king, altars, and
country. His moderation was eminently shown during this period on
an occasion when, having been asked to be present at a sermon to be
preached by a friar of a certain convent within his diocese before a
great multitude, the preacher, to the surprise of all, leaving the topics
suited to the occasion, launched forth into invectives against his bishop
for the part he had taken in these troubles with much contumely and
many imprecations. The bishop, who showed no astonishment during
the discourse, sent for the preacher after the sermon was ended, and
before the brotherhood so clearly convinced him and them of the wrong
done him, as to cast them all on their knees to ask his pardon. He
also showed his accustomed skill in reconciling enemies and healing
litigations, his liberality in assisting the poor, and his generosity by
giving the shelter of his own house to many who had been expelled
from their homes by the enemy. Even in the midst of civil war and
general distress, he set about the repair of ecclesiastical edifices, and
collected a great quantity of the necessary materials for the repair of
his cathedral, while he surrounded his episcopal residence with a wall.

Galway having yielded to its besiegers on 12th April 1652, on con-
ditions which were broken, the entire province of Connaught shortly
after passed into the hands of the party of the Commonwealth, who took
possession of his residence, and bestowed it on Walter S* cevola de Burgo,
a Catholic gentleman, whose castle had been seized by them some time
previous without warrant, and in compensation of that violent act. In
this they furnished a place of shelter to our bishop from their pursuit, for
Scoevola kept him concealed in a small dark room, much infested with rats.
During eight months he only left it once, on the occasion of a search
for arms, when he was carried out in a sheet, refusing to take a place
at the family board, lest he should compromise his protector. A chest,
which was all the furniture the room could accommodate, was daily
converted into an altar, on which, with the assistance of his chaplain,
mass was celebrated. Here, without fire, he passed an entire winter,
preferring the hardships of a pent-up closet to less straitened residences,
as it enabled him to keep up communication with his flock, and to
minister counsels and consolation to them.

On one occasion the General of the Commonwealth commanding in
the district, having contracted a friendship with the noble family of his
host, made him a visit, accompanied by his wife, officers, and military
friends. During an entertainment, the host having left, a conversation
between the mistress of the house and his lady in reference to our
bishop, in which it was stated he had gone away, being overheard by
the General, he observed, "I can point with my finger to the window
of the room in this house in which he lies concealed," to the great con-
sternation of the hostess, who informed her husband on his return that
some informer must have given intelligence against them to their ruin,

FRANCIS KIRWAN, ROMAN CATHOLIC BISHOP OF K1LLALA. 653

and at the same time that the guests were anxious to see the hidden one.
On this being imparted by him to our bishop, he accepted the fact as
the will of God, and accordingly next day, after religious services, he
presented himself to the English party to their great wonderment, the
General's wife declaring to him, " We have heard that many of your
order have done much against us, but of you we have always heard
good things spoken by every person." The conversation turned upon
religion, when the bishop defended his own in a brief and dignified
speech. After he retired, the General expressed his veneration for him,
and said he would take no measures against, and would even reclaim
him as his prisoner should he fall into hands within the limits of his
jurisdiction of any not under his command. Having learned, however,
that a body of Puritans more fierce and implacable in hostility to the
priests were about to be marched into the district, the bishop, lest he
should compromise his host or his host's friends, retired, surrounded by
his friends, who wept at his departure, and directed his steps towards
Galway, trusting to the stipulations of the recent treaty for his personal
safety, which city, after being plundered and narrowly escaping being
taken prisoner several times on the way, he reached safely in disguise,
and tliere remained for some time protected by his well-wishers. On
a rumour of his being sheltered, informers were at work to point
out houses he was likely to frequent, but the search, although
close and severe, generally took place after the bishop had left,
although at times he was closely pressed, and obliged to escape along
the roofs of the houses, and on one occasion they were turned away
when within a short distance of the room in which he lay. On
another occasion they got possession of all his ecclesiastical furni-
ture, which they broke or tore to pieces and scattered. Having, how-
ever, contracted a malady from confinement and cold, he gave himself
up to the governor, who, believing he would not long survive, took
security for his appearance, and forbade his being further troubled.
But he recovered, and applied himself to the work of a peacemaker, for
which the spirit of litigation among even the persecuted and conquered
party gave him abundant occasion.

In June 1663 all the clerics of the province were ordered to present
themselves, as well those on bail as those as yet at large, and our bishop
as well as the Archbishop of Tuam, also on bail, among the rest, and
this summons was generally complied with. Instead of committing
them to the common prisons, houses were hired at the prisoners' cost,
where they were kept under a military guard. Even here, like" the
good Vicar of Wakefield, our bishop contrived to occupy himself in
works of goodness. He reconciled enemies, and he confessed penitents
visiting him with this object. Children were brought to the windows in
the rear of the house to be confirmed, and with the priests he held
edifying disputations and reasonings on religious subjects.

Suddenly, after fourteen months in this kind of imprisonment, the
whole party were marched, without any notice, surrounded by a strong
guard of musketeers, and embarked on a ship for Nantes, where with
singular good fortune they landed on the fourth day. It was believed
the reason for this hasty proceeding was that the impression made on
their adherents, by the services under circumstances so peculiar, of theiz

hierarchy was more than all the efforts of the Protestant preachers
could undo, in retaining them in their ancient faith. Now broken
down by age and sufferings, the bishop found himself on landing in the
face of want and destitution, and compelled to sell his books and per-
sonal effects. The States of Brittany soon relieved him so far, by a vote
of fifty Louis d'or, as they had pensioned many Irish bishops before,
some during fifteen years of exile, but the greater part of this sum he
expended on articles for his poorer companions. By a committee of the
same States he was consulted as to the conflicting claims of emigrant
Irish nobles and priests upon a small fund placed at their disposal. With
great magnanimity he advised that those of the nobles should be pre-
ferred, as having no other means of subsistence, while the priests could
eke out a moderate subsistence by saying masses, and because the
nobles had from the time of Elizabeth supported out of their means all
orders of the clergy, then deprived of all ecclesiastical revenue. For
this advice the bishop incurred ill-will at the hands of the exiled priests,
being charged with acting against the clergy.

During his exile he received great kindness from various friends, who
received him into their houses. Subsequently he resided constantly
with the family of a M. de Bicqueneul, and after the death of that
gentleman with his sons-in-law and daughters, who bestowed on him
the most lavish hospitality, in compliance with their father's testament,
which they were directed to continue to the latest moment of his life.
He died on the 27th day of August 1671, after six years of exile,
spending these as the earlier ones, in the constant practice of good
works, and in the discharge of every devotional duty, private and
public. This event took place at Rennes, at the house of M. de la
Poliere, one of the sons-in-law of his friend De Bicqueneul, of a virulent
malady by infection, while in the exercise of the priestly office admin-
istering the last rites to one of its victims. His obsequies attracted
immense crowds, such as rarely occurs at the most solemn festivals ;
all the religious orders of the locality, the colleges of the parochial
churches, and the canons of the cathedral taking part in the ceremony.
The memory of this gentle and devoted prelate has been preserved
in a biographical memoir from the pen of Archdeacon Lynch, a work
which long lay buried in its original Latin, but which in that form
was so highly prized by Christians of all denominations that the copy
belonging to the late Bishop Heber fetched the large sum of .£18 10s.
A reprint, with a parallel English version, by the Rev. C. P. Meehan,
was published in Dublin in 1848. Such men as Francis Kirwan, who
would do honour to any church, ought not to be forgotton in the
catalogue of eminent and illustrious Irishmen.

JOHN LYNCH, ROMAN CATHOLIC ARCHDEACON OF TUAM. 655
JOHN LYNCH, ROMAN CATHOLIC ARCHDEACON OF TUAM.

BORN CIRCA 1599. DIED ANTE 1674.

The family of the Lynches, to which Dr. John Lynch belonged,
claims descent from Hugh de Lacy of the first race of Norman invaders,
a memoir of whom appears in our first volume. He was born in Gal-
way, according to the more careful inferences from his own statements,
about the year 1599. Tradition reports his father to have been one
Alexander Lynch, a teacher in Galway, of whom Usher gives a high
character, which carries the more probability, as in 1608 he had no
less than 1200 scholars from all parts of Ireland, including even the
Pale. The school was suppressed nominally in 1615 ; but the suppres-
sion was only temporary, for we find from Dr. Lynch's writings, that
notwithstanding the enactment of a penal statute in 1634, there were
dignitaries of the Romish communion in that town teaching schools
down to its capture by Cromwell's forces in 1652. The Lynches
appear to be frequently mentioned with honour in the records and
monuments of that ancient town. They gave, with only one exception,
a greater number of distinguished ecclesiastics to that communion than
any other family in Ireland.

He was sent to France when entering his eighteenth year, and was
engaged in the study of the humanities at Dieppe in 1618. He re-
ceived his earlier education from the Jesuists, of whom he always speaks
with respect. It is not known when he returned to Ireland, but it is
inferred from his own statement that he was ordained priest about the
year 1622. Like many of his predecessors in Gal way he taught a
school, and acquired a great reputation for classical learning. He was
engaged also on the Irish mission, celebrating mass in private houses
and secret places until 1642, when the Ulster insurrection opened the
parish churches to the Catholics. He describes in glowing terms his
emotions on first celebrating mass in a public consecrated building, yet
never fails to stigmatise the rebellion of 1641 which procured this
liberty for his Church in Ireland as " ill-omened, miserable, and fatal."
Appointed Archdeacon of Tuam, he lived apart from the turbid politics
of that epoch in an old castle. Being opposed on principle to the
interference of the clergy in the crooked and unnatural politics of his
times, his name does not appear in any of the voluminous contemporary
documents on the wars and deliberations of the Irish Catholics from
1641 to 1652. Yet he held decided opinions on the distracting ques-
tions which these documents discussed. Born in the town of Galway,
which had always been loyal, he could not approve of the rising of the
Ulster Irish, nor the pretensions of any party irreconcilable with
loyalty to the king of England. " His own brief experience," says his
biographer, "had taught him to hope for the gradual and peaceful
triumph of justice over the privileges of creed and race. From the
close of the reign of James I., persecution on the score of religion had
relaxed ; the religion of Rome had been embraced by the sons of some
of the most distinguished families- planted under Elizabeth ; the old
Anglo-Irish families— the Butlers, the Burkes, Nugents, and Fitzgeralds

656 TRANSITION.— ECCLESIASTICAL.

— still died in that religion, though the heads of these families some-
times temporised during life ; the strong arm of Wentworth had com-
pressed all the jarring elements of Irish society into something like
unity, and consequently mutual toleration. The animosities that had
hitherto obtained between the Anglo-Irish and the native Irish clergy
of the communion were dying away. A society called ' The Peaceful
Association,' founded in 1620 by David Both, Bishop of Ossory, had
been combining their energies for the common good, and the prejudices
of some of the most intolerant of the ascendant party were gradually
yielding before the softening influence of common literary tastes.
Everything promised that that fond dream — the dream of the union of
Irishmen on grounds of perfect equality in every respect, religious and
political — would soon become a reality." — " These hopes, Dr. Lynch
believed, were blasted by the rashness of the Ulster Irish, which
precipitated the catastrophe of 1641."

Dr. Lynch defended the Catholic confederation of 1642 as the only
means of self-defence against the rapacity and fanaticism of the extreme
English party, which sought in the strong emotion created by the
barbarities of that Ulster rising to involve the whole Catholic commun-
ion in odium, leading to severities provoking confiscation. He approved
of the general policy of Ormonde as indispensable for the safety of the
Irish Catholics, and condemned the Nuncio who opposed that policy.
In these opinions he agreed with David Both, Bishop of Ossory, who,
it is commonly believed, drew up the plan of the supreme Council of
the Confederates.

On the surrender of Galway in 1642, Dr. Lynch fled to France, and
continued in exile till his death, which must have occurred prior to
1674. He outlived nearly all his distinguished literary contemporaries,
who have had, in their own order, no successors. Like the unfinished
cathedrals of the ages to which they devoted their labours, their works
remain the admiration and the reproach of posterity.

His translation of Keating's History of Ireland into elegant Latin
is supposed to have been his first production, and to have been com-
posed before he left Ireland. The preface, to which we have already
referred, presents that easy flow which characterises his subsequent
writings.

His great work " Cambresis Eversus," was published in 1662 at St.
Malo in France, under the pseudonome of " Gratianus Lucius." The
motives that led to the composition of this controversial disquisition are
stated in his first chapter. It appears that from the time when the
writer, best known by the name of " Giraldus Cambrensis," wrote
shortly before 1190 his "Topography," and "History of the Con-
quest " of Ireland, a strong feeling was entertained by many of the
natives of that country that many of the statements in these two works
were unjust and injurious to the character of this people, but being in
manuscript they remained in comparative obscurity. After their issue
by Camden from the printing-press of Frankfort in 1602, this was no
longer the case, and it was believed that the antipathy between
England and Ireland, which began about the time of the wars ol
Elizabeth, was exaggerated by the adoption in the literature of the
former of many of the objectionable statements contained in these two

JOHN LYNCH (ROMAN CATHOLIC), ARCHDEACON OF TUAM. 657

works. It appears to have occurred to the Roman Catholic prelates to
procure to be produced at the public expense a defence of the history
of Ireland. Some work of this nature appears to have been written
by one Stephen White, a learned Jesuit, of which it was believed ail
trace was lost, although a copy has recently (about 1831) been discovered
in the library of the Dukes of Burgundy at Brussels, and allusion is
made in a poem to a similar work by one Philip O'Sullivan. The
resolution of the prelates does not seem to have been carried into effect,
and Dr. Lynch appears to have alone, unaided, and in exile, taken it
upon him to execute the task. Throughout the whole work, he proves
himself to be superior to the animosities and prejudices which had so
long divided the two branches into which the people of Ireland had
resolved themselves, viz., the Scotch or Ulster nation of the north, and
the Anglo-Norman of the south and west ; the latter having under their
wing the Firbolg or more ancient native races, with which, in a great
many instances, they had joined by intermarriages. But while he was
puttingtfeis hand to the last chapter of his work, and perhaps congratulat-
ing himself on having proved by an imposing array of precedents that
the Anglo-Irish were really become Irish and entitled to be called such,
a work was presented to the Propaganda in 1659, written by one of
the Ulster or Scoto-Irish, impeaching the whole Anglo-Irish family, a
kind of supplement to a work of a similar nature called the " Remon-
strance," written by Domhnall O'Neill in the fourteenth century, but
urging considerations far more momentous. There could be no peace,
it declared, until the Anglo-Irish family had been corrected or expelled.
Upon this Dr. Lynch stood forth as the apologist of his race. In an
exceedingly rare and valuable book, entitled " Alithonologia," he re-
views Anglo-Irish history, indignantly rejects the name of Anglo-Irish-
man, extols the superiority of his race, their greater wealth, power,
and civilization, their stately cities and fertile lowlands, their fidelity
to their faith, which so many of them had defended by their writings,
or sealed by their blood, and, what accords badly with modern theories,
their numjrical superiority. As a history of the Anglo-Irish race,
especially of their anomalous position under Elizabeth, the " Alithonolo-
gia" has no rival. His loyalty, of course, is of the true Anglo-Irish
type, but never descends to that erastian compliance which would
secularise the Church without serving the country. In point of style,
this work combines with the good qualities of his " Cambresis Ever-
sus," the vigour and fire of animated controversy ; while in moderation
it presents a favourable contrast with most 6f the politico-religious
literature of that asre on both sides of the St. George's channel. In
1667 Dr. Lynch published a supplement to his " Alithonologia." By
this time the contest had lost much of its interest. His antagonist had
been ordered to quit Rome. His work had been disowned by the
superior of the religious order to which he had associated himself in
Italy. But in this addendum, Dr. Lynch gives full scope to his discur-
sive humour, ranging over every period of Irish history, and indulging in
his usual exuberance of classical allusion. It presents, however, a signifi-
cant, and indeed unpardonable, trait of partizanship, in that while he
condemns, and justly, the many fabulous and sometimes true atrocities of
the Scoto-Irish, he altogether forgets the provocations, spoliations, and
ii. 2 T Ir.

cruelties which had goaded that noble race to desperate measures. The
chief accusation of his adversary against the chiefs of Anglo-Norman
descent was that they concurred in the Parliament of 1613 along with the
newer English colonists in confiscating the nine counties of Ulster, but so
far from denying this, Dr. Lynch hails it as the completion of the conquest
commenced four hundred years before. Only it was not so much a conquest
as the final reduction of the power of a still earlier race of conquerors.

But to do Dr. Lynch justice, he was proud of these earlier invaders
the Scoto-Irish. In the year 1664 he addressed a brief and learned
letter to Boileau, historian of the University of Paris, who, by an error
not uncommon at the time, had confounded the Scoti and Scotia of the
ancients with modern Scotland ; pointing out his mistake and claiming
for Ireland the fame of the scholars of that race and name who first
taught in the University of Paris and Court of Charlemagne.

In 1667 he wrote a pathetic poem in answer to the question, Why do
you not come home to Ireland ? peculiarly interesting as showing forth
the feelings of an exile, and as the only work in which we see himself.
Although addressed to a friend, and without any view of future publica-
tion, he notices in the exordium the chronologies of his anonymous works
as well as their titles, and thereby enables us to trace and to identify them.
It is an apology of a noble-hearted priest for not in his old age encounter-
ing the perils of the Irish mission, after having laboured there during
thirty years of his prime, and solicitous to avail himself of the leisure
given to him in a foreign land by devoting the remainder of his days
to the literature of his country. He considers also his life to be in
danger from the anger of some person — supposed to be the Governor
of Galway, whose father was Sir Charles Coote — to whom his writings
had given offence; for Dr. Lynch had denounced in no measured terms
the sanguinary deeds of Sir Charles and his accomplices.

In 1669 he published, and, like all his other works, in Latin, the life
of his uncle Francis Kir wan, Bishop of Killala. In his other works we
see the scholar, patriot, and historian ; in this we have a zealous Irish
priest, sketching, but not with too partial a hand, his own ideas of
ecclesiastical virtue, exhibited in the life of a beloved relative, under
whose care he had been educated, and who, in every phase of his event-
ful life, in persecution as in prosperity, as a bishop and as a priest, had
laboured to prove himself worthy of his vocation.

His great work " Cambresis Eversus," composed when he was nearly
sixty years of age, was republished, with an English translation and
notes, by the Rev. Matthew Kelly, of St. Patrick's College, Maynooth,
in 1848 for the Irish Celtic Society. In his preface the translator
justly states that it has been generally considered one of the most
valuable works on the history of Ireland ; that, viewed merely as a
refutation of Giraldus de Barry, it is on some points unsuccessful ; but
that its comprehensive plan, embracing a great variety of undigested and
accurate information on every period of Irish history, imparts to it a
value entirely independent of the controversial character inscribed on its
title-page. This Introduction embraces a short account of the life of
the author, to which we are indebted tor the facts in the present notice.

From the manner in which Dr. Lynch's name is introduced into the
inquisition held in Galway, he appears to have been dead in 1674. In

MICHAEL CLEARY. 659

his poem written seven years before, he declares that, as he was totter-
ing on the brink of the grave, it would not be worth his trouble to go
so far as Ireland for a little clay to cover him. From the following
epitaph, composed by his friend and fellow -labourer, Dr. Flaherty, it
would appear that he died, where his works were published, at St.
Maloes.

" Occidit Armoricis PIUS HEU ! Lynch^bus in oris,

lynchjeus patri.e lux, columenque su.3e.

asseruit famam, commenta refellit 1ern2e ;

elluit e tenebris gesta vetusta stylo.

Gallia habet tumulum, cunabula Galvia jactat ;

scripta vigent terris, spiritus arce poli."

III. LITERABY SERIES.

MICHAEL CLEAEY.

BORN A.D. . DIED A.D. 1643.

Of Michaee Cleary very little is satisfactorily known, and we
should, for this reason, consider ourselves absolved from any notice of
him, but for the place which he occupies in the history of our Irish
literature. This topic, so far as relates to the commencement of the
present division of these memoirs, must be regarded as rather belong-
ing to the antiquarian than to the historical biographer. But it is
necessary, as briefly as we may, to account for our neglect of the very
numerous poets who lived in the earlier half of the 17th century, and
whose writings are yet extant. For this there are sufficient reasons:
there are no materials for their personal histories, and their writings
are not extant in any published form. The great celebrity of a
renowned author of unpublished poetry might impose it upon us to
give some account of his works; but great indeed must be the import-
ance of the writings to which such a tribute would be excusable
here, and whatever may be the collective worth of the bards and his-
torians of the period included in these remarks, there are, individually,
few instances which demand the distinction of a memoir. We might,
by the help of some very accessible authorities, easily continue in this
period the barren list of unknown poets, which helped to fill the vacuity
of our previous period; but, on looking very carefully over those
materials, we are unable to perceive what purpose would be served
by such a waste of our space, already contracting too fast for the
important matter yet before us.*

In that portion of the introductory observations allotted to the gene-

• We should here apprize the reader that the seeming disproportion, between
the space which we have given to the ecclesiastics and the literary persons belong-
ing to this period, is to be explained by the fact, that the most respectable of our
writers hold also a prominent rank among our ecclesiastical dignitaries of the same
period.

OGO TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

ral consideration of Irish literature, we have endeavoured to give some
general notices of the character and importance of this unknown but
numerous class of writings, which lie concealed, though not inacces-
sible, in tbe archives of colleges, and in public and private libraries.
The individual whose name affords us occasion for these remarks, was
a native of Ulster, and a Franciscan friar. He was early in life
known as learned in the antiquities of his country, and as having a
critical acquaintance with the Irish tongue. These qualifications re-
commended him to Mr Hugh Ward as a fit person to collect informa-
tion for his projected history of the Irish saints, for which purpose he
was sent to the Irish college in Louvain. The materials which he
collected in the course of fifteen years passed into the hands of Colgan,
by the death of Ward.

Cleary at the same time collected materials, which he reduced into
three volumes of Irish history, of which the letters are mentioned by
Ware.

He was one of the compilers of the " Annals of Donegal " — a MS.
of the greatest authority in the antiquities of Ireland. His last work
was a Dictionary of the obsolete words in the Irish Language, published
in 1643, the year of his death.

JOHN COLGAN.

BORN A.D. . — DIED A.D. 1658.

Colgan was a Franciscan in the Irish convent of St Anthony o''
Padua, in Louvain, where he was professor of divinity. He collected
and compiled a well-known work of great authority among anti-
quarians, and of considerable use in some of the earlier memoirs of
this work.

His writings were numerous; and all, we believe, on the ecclesias-
tical antiquities of Ireland. His death, in 1658, prevented the publi-
cation of many of them.

GEOFFREY KEATING

BORN A.D. . DIED A.D. 1650.

Keating, well known as the writer of an antiquarian history of
Ireland — of great authority for the general fulness with which it
preserves the traditionary accounts of the earliest times, though liable
to some rather hasty censures for the indiscriminate combination of
the probable and improbable into one digested narrative, and in the
language of implicit belief. Such a work is, nevertheless, the most
certain and authentic record of the ancient belief of the learned and
unlearned of the land; and if the facts be not true in themselves, they
evidently characterize the mind of a period, while, generally speaking,
there is every reason to give credit to the more important parts of the
narrative; and, above all, to the genealogical traditions of the ancient
families of chiefs and kings. It is by no means a just inference that

ft

they who entertain superstitious notions, and believe the absurdest
mythological fables and traditions, are, therefore, to be discredited in
their statements of the ordinary facts of history; in the former, both
the senses which observe, and the faithfulness which records, are wholly
uninvolved — the facts belong to a different class of things, and a man
may believe a fable, yet speak truth in the concerns of life. When a
historian's authority, or the authorities on which he writes, are to be
questioned, the question must be, — is the relation honest, and are the
facts such as to admit of natural error? Now, in Keating's history,
the line of demarcation between truth and error will, in the main, be
easily seen. It will be at once observed, that the mere fact of the
existence of a large body of ancient literature, with all the extant
remains and traditions of Ireland, undeniably prove the existence of
some old state of civil order different from anything now existing,
and as far removed from the savage state. Such a state of things
must needs have left some record stamped with the form, and having
at least all the main outlines of the truth ; and it may be asked where
this record — of which the absence would be more improbable than any
part of Irish history — can be found, if not in those very traditions
which are the genuine remains of Irish literature, and the authorities
of old Keating. The facts are, it is true, often strangely involved
with fable ; but there is no instance in which the discrimination of an
unbiassed intellect cannot at once make the due allowance.

Keating studied for twenty-three years in the college of Salamanca
On his return to Ireland he was appointed to the parish of Tybrid,
which he soon resigned. He is said to have been driven into conceal-
ment by the hostility of a person whose mistress he excommunicated.
This person having threatened to murder him, he took refuge in a
wood between the Galty mountains and the town of Tipperary; and
in this retirement he wrote his history in the Irish language.

He was buried in the church of Tybrid, founded by himself and his
successor, in 1644.

His history was translated into English by a Mr Dermod O'Conor,
whose version is considered to have many inaccuracies. Another
translation was since commenced by a Mr William Halliday, an Irish
scholar of great reputation. His task was cut short by an early
death. He had proceeded so far as the Christian era, and published
a thin octavo, which has induced muoBB regret among antiquarians
that he did not live to complete his unde "king.

Keating's other writings are of slight 'Importance — they are a few
poems and professional treatises.

THE HON. EOBERT BOYLE.

BORN A.D. 1626. — DIED A.D. 1691.

The account of the early infancy of this most illustrious Irishman has
been written by himself under the title of Philalethes. This period of
his life was subject to more casualties and changes than are often known
to occur in the maturer age of tbf> generality of men; and this*,

662 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

indeed, in a manner and to an extent, which the character of our more
civilized times can scarcely be conceived to admit of. At the age of
three his mother died, and his intellect and moral temper were, at
that early age, sufficiently mature to comprehend and feel this irrep-
arable deprivation. The well-known activity of his ambitious father,
the first earl of Cork — a man ever on the stretch in the pursuit of
fortune and power — left his home often without a master, and his
children without a parent. To these sources of casualty may be added
the frequent necessity of removal and travelling through a wild and
unsettled country, and under the charge of menials. On the road, the
robber lurked among the rugged mountain-passes, and in the conceal-
ment of the bordering woods; on the British channel the pirate
roamed without restraint ; and the Turkish galley infested and defied
the very coasts, which have now so long been sacred from such insults
and dangers.

At three years of age he had a narrow escape from being drowned,
by the fall of the horse on which he was carried, in crossing a deep
and rapid brook which was swollen by the rains. At seven, he tells
us that he had a still more remarkable escape from being crushed to
death by the fall of the ceiling of the chamber in which he slept.

At three years of age he was sent to Eton, of which the provost
was then Sir Henry Wotton, an intimate friend of his father's. Here
he was placed under the immediate tuition of Mr Harrison, who, it is
said, had the sagacity to discover the unusual capacity and the singu-
lar moral tendencies of his pupil, even at that early age, as well as the
skill to adapt his moral and intellectual treatment to so promising a
subject. Perceiving the indications of a mind unusually apprehen-
sive and curious, he was careful that these happy inclinations should
not want for exercise; and, as he had a willing mind to deal with, he
avoided damping, in any degree, the voluntary spirit, by even the
semblance of a constraint, which, in common cases, is of such primary
necessity. By this method, so applicable in this peculiar instance,
the ardour for information, which seems to have been so providentially
implanted in the youthful philosopher's mind, became so intensely
kindled, that it became necessary to employ some control, for the
purpose of forcing him to those intermissions of rest and needful ex-
ercise for which boys are commonly so eager. Harrison meanwhile
watched over the extraordinary youth with a zealous, intelligent, and
assiduous care, ever ready to answer his questions, and to commu-
nicate knowledge in the form of entertaining discourse.

The main object of his studies at Eton was the acquisition of
classical knowledge, and he soon attained a considerable intimacy
with the best writers of antiquity. He himself has mentioned,
that the accidental perusal of Quintus Curtius had the effect of
awakening his imagination, in an extraordinary degree, and thus
excited in his mind an increased thirst for historical knowledge.*

* It is curious to compare the impressions communicated by the same circum-
stance to different minds. We extract the following from a well-known periodical : —
" The effect which the same romantic historian is said to have produced on
Charles XII., is, however, more direct and natural. In reading of the feats of

THE HON. ROBERT BOYLE. 663

We must confess to some difficulty in distinctly appreciating such an
impulse from such a cause, further than as the transient impression
of an hour, which the next would dispel. The excitements of Quintus
Curtius are scarcely to be expected in the page of regular history. A
more natural impulse is attributed to the accident of his being initiated
in the range of romantic fiction, which was, we are bound to say, a
most grievous error, which cannot be too strenuously deprecated in
these pages, and which we shall therefore pause to discuss more fully.
The circumstances are these: — During his stay at Eton he was
attacked by a fit of the tertian ague, of such severity and duration,
that his constitution, naturally delicate, became very much debilitated,
and a long time elapsed before he recovered his strength sufficiently
for the purpose of his studies. In this condition it occurred to his
tutor — who, after all, was more of the scholar than the philosopher — to
indulge his craving and restless mind by the perusal of novels and
romances. Some reflections in a contemporary memoir, on the same
incident, convey our sentiments with so much truth that we shall here
extract them, — " As might be presumed, the effect was to leave on
his mind a distaste for less stimulative aliment, and to excite his mind
to a state of undue activity. The sense of martial ardour, — the pride
and stimulus of military emulation, ambition, and danger, — the physi-
cal sympathies of action, with all the vain glories of romance, were
acted on and called forth. He became a castle-builder and a dreamer.
He makes a remark on this subject, of which we have long since had
occasion to learn the value — that it is unfortunate for those who have
busy thoughts to be without timely employment for their activity.
Such, indeed, is the misfortune which — worse than even the corrup-
tions of passion — has consigned many a high and far-grasping intellect
to a life of dreams. Gambling, and debauchery, and the seductions
of sense, are not more sure in their fatal effects, so uninterruptible in
their course, or so seductive, as this refined and intellectual fascina-
tion,— more sure and dangerous, because it operates in loneliness, and
finds its good within itself. When the imagination is once fairly
seized with this self-seeking desire, even the slightest thing that occurs,
or that is seen, read, or heard of, is enough to give it impulse and
direction, and the heart acts the hero or voluptuary's part; the
Augustus, or Nero, or Heliogabulus; the Paris, or Achilles; and, in
its own secluded recess, rules or disposes of more worlds than Alex-
ander could have conquered. There is an interest in finding our infir-
mities reflected in a mind like Boyle's ; but it is both instructive and
encouraging to learn, by what timely resolution and prudence, in the

Alexander lie was affected by a sympathy of a kindred mind, and became a war-
rior. Quintus Curtius wrote for a corrupt and luxurious age, when the nobles of
the latter periods of the Roman empire were excluded from politics and war, and
only alive to the stimulants of sense and taste. His invention and eloquence were
of a high order, and he wrote for effect — his success was worthy of a better
object. His descriptions and pictorial touches, — his dialogues and characteristic
sayings and incidents, — and even his description of the private reflections of the
persons of the narrative, while they materially diminish his credit as a historian,
must still have produced on his ancient readers an effect, not greatly inferior to
that produced on the readers of Ivanhoe." — Dublin University Magazine, May,
1836.

664 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

application of means, he shook off this disease of the spirit. To
recover his power of application he had recourse to the study of
mathematics, and found in its precise relations and rigid conclusions
that interest and necessity of attention, which was the remedy his case
required."* There is indeed prevalent, in our own times, an error
well worthy of the most serious consideration upon the subject of a
very large class of works of fiction — we mean that most pernicious of
all literary compositions, of which it is the real aim to tamper with pas-
sion and sentiment, and the pretence — no doubt sincere — to inculcate
some good lesson in morality and prudence. Such lessons are not only
useful, but necessary to young and old; but it is known that their opera-
tion is slow, and the result of much and repeated trial and experience :
it is also known that the truths of experience are long known to the un-
derstanding before they have any very practical influence on the heart ;
while, on the contrary, passion and sentiment, the main impulses of
conduct, operate with a spontaneous force in the fullest maturity of
that head wisdom which is expected to constrain them. Reason may be
called the helm, and experience the chart of prudence and principle ;
but passion and sentiment have pretty much the same relation to the
tempest, the current, and the shoal, and it seems a curious inconsistency
of purpose which would make the latter instrumental to the uses
of the former. A lesson, for example, of the delicate embarrass-
ments, cross-purposes, and misunderstandings of the tender passions,
may be made the vehicle for noble sentiments and virtuous conduct;
but the young and tender bosom which has thus been betrayed into
those fearful and seductive sympathies, will be infected by their
clinging influence, when the noblest maxims of virtue and its loftiest
examples are forgotten. In vain the charms are spread which are to
sweeten the lesson of virtue, if they have a far nearer connexion with
infirmities, follies, and vices. The Minerva, with the naked bosom,
may preach in vain on the charms of abstinence and heroic self-denial ;
human nature will seize the thoughts, and be attracted by the sense
for which its affinity is nearest. Heroism, set off by beauty, and
softened by the glow of the passions, will, for a moment, appear doubly
heroic; but the enthusiasm of taste will subside, and the pupil or
spectator will find some more interesting and congenial way of apply
ing the lesson. As we do not here think it necessary to repeat the
commonly urged objection to works of fiction — that they offer false
views of society — we will say that it is not, certainly, from any want
of concurrence in them ; and we may observe, by the way, that it is
the high praise of the Waverley novels that they avoid all these objec-
tions, neither giving false views, nor deriving interest from dele-
terious materials.

As to the effect of such influences upon the mind of Boyle, it must
have been materially diminished by the great counteraction, if not
entire preponderance of dispositions of an opposite tendency, which
will show themselves plainly enough as we proceed. Without entering
into any refinement upon intellectual powers and tendencies, the
character of Robert Boyle was eminently practical, and his temper

* Dublin University Magazine, May, 1S36.

THE HON. EGBERT BOYLE. 665

conscientious in an unusual degree. The general tenor of his early life
was in itself adapted to favour, and, in some measure, produce these
dispositions: the unsettled character of the times in which he lived;
the rude emergencies of even a change of place, attendant on such
times; and the universal agitation and tempest of the period in which
he came to man's estate, were, in no small degree, calculated to turn
the attention of thoughtful spirits on the external scene, and to give
development to the turn for observation and practical application. It
is perhaps not improbable, that such was the general effect of the civil
wars of that period upon the times and the public mind, — the fine-spun
cobwebs of philosophy, and the gorgeous cloudwork of poetry, are
probably deprived of their influence upon the mass of minds when so
kept painfully on the stretch by startling- realities. But with such
considerations we are evidently unconcerned.

After having continued four years at Eton, Boyle was recalled by
his father, who had at this time come to live at Stalbridge, in Dorset-
shire. He, nevertheless, sedulously applied himself to the acquisition
of classical knowledge, and also of ancient history. His father
engaged a Mr Marcombes, a foreigner, to assist his studies. This
gentleman had been first employed as travelling tutor to his brothers,
the lords Broghill and Kinalmeaky.

In 1638, when he had attained his eleventh year, he was sent on
his travels, under the charge of the same gentleman. His destination
was Geneva, where he was to continue his studies, — a plan most
probably originating with Marcombes, who was a native of the town,
and, having a family resident in it, was evidently very much con-
venienced by the arrangement. They took their route by London,
where his brother, who was also to be the companion of his foreign
sojourn, was to be married to Mrs Anne Killigrew, a maid of honour
to the queen. From London they found their way to Paris, and from
thence to Lyons, and on through Savoy to Geneva.

Boyle, in his autobiographical memoir, attributes much of the
moral improvement of his mind to the care, and to the influence of
some strong points in the character of Mr Marcombes, and we are
strongly inclined to join in the opinion. He mentions his tutor as
one who was an acute observer of the ways of men, who formed his
opinions from life, not from books, and had not merely a contempt,
but an aversion for pedantry, which he hated " as much as any of the
seven deadly sins." It is also very evident that Mr Marcombes was
by no mean an indulgent observer, but nice, critical, choleric; and to
the quickness of his temper Mr Boyle ascribes the fortunate subjug-a-
tion of his own. If, indeed, Mr Boyle's temper was as irritable as he
himself represents it to have been, this is a fact not unimportant to
the instructors of youth ; for he is one of the most perfect models
which biography affords, of patience and mildness. In this, however,
other and far superior influences must claim a larger share, as Mr
Boyle was pre-eminently a christian. To religion, we are inclined to
think, there was in his mind a very peculiar tendency. Such ten-
dencies, we are aware, do not, as a matter of course, lead to the actual
adoption of any religion, still less of the christian religion. When
the great truths of Christianity are not instilled into the heart with

the first rudiments of education, they can only be afterwards received
on evidence which claims the assent of the understanding', and
this must be sought and studied with much careful attention. In
Boyle's time, this evidence was easily overlooked for many reasons;
and it is always listened to with strong reluctance, — the severe, simple,
and practical requisitions of christian teaching being strongly opposed
to the whole bent of human nature, and the entire spirit of social life.
Butler, and Paley, and other eminent men, afterwards called up to
crush the hydra of infidelity, had not yet placed the question within the
easy reach of the public mind. Notwithstanding the able writings of
Grotius, and those of the more ancient apologists, unhappily, during the
middle ages, Christianity had been displaced from its basis of evidence,
and placed upon a foundation of quicksand, so as to present neither
its genuine form nor its real credentials.

From these considerations, we lean to suspect that religious truths
had no very strong hold of Mr Boyle's mind, at the period of which
we speak. The incidents which had a decided effect to unsettle his
belief, are such as to illustrate some of the foregoing remarks very
strongly, while, at the same time, they indicate a very singular
impressibility.* He himself mentions the solemn impression upon
his mind of a tremendous thunderstorm in the dead of the night; it
led him to reflect earnestly upon his state of mind, and to recollect his
great deficiencies according to the standard by which he professed to
walk. Some time after this, however, an impression of a very different
nature was made upon him, in one of those excursions which he was
accustomed to make from Geneva into the mountains that lay around.
Visiting the ancient monastery of Chartreuse, in a wild alpine recess
near Grenoble, his feelings were so powerfully wrought upon by the
savage and gloomy scenery, the curious pictures, and mysterious tradi-
tions of the monastery, that his excited imagination called up and
lent a momentary reality to the legendary superstition of the place.
The powerful impressions thus made upon a mind, characteristically
impressible, were such as to obscure and cast a dimness upon his far
less vivid impressions of Christianity, of which, it must be observed,
he knew not any distinct proofs; and his reason, bewildered between
the appeals of a strongly impressed and sensibly imbodied super-
stition, and of a vague and imperfectly conceived belief, became
unsettled upon the momentous truths of religion, which, under the
same common name, offered such opposite and irreconcilable demands
on faith. The traditions of St Bruno, which were thus brought as
a sensible reality to the imagination, stood, as it were, nearer to the
eye than the remote and dimly apprehended truths of the gospel ; and,
while the fancy gave power to the one, reason ceased to discriminate
with accuracy, and lost its inadequate hold of the other. The pro-
cess is by no means one confined to a youthful fancy and a visionary
turn, but, with some modification, can be distinctly traced to the
pseudo-philosophy of the last century. The shallow but eloquent Vol-

* " Mr Boyle's mind was of that reflective and sensitive cast, on which slight
influences had great effects ; nor, without the full allowance for this, can the con-
struction of his character be distinctly understood." — Dublin University Maga-
zine.

THE HON. ROBERT BOYLE. 667

ney has expanded the fallacy into a systematic argument; the impos-
ing sophistry of Gibbon — so far as it can be extracted from the am-
biguities of style — indicates a mind labouring under misconceptions
of the same order.

With respect to Boyle, his own account of the result substantiates
the important fact affirmed in the foregoing remarks. Like Gibbon,
Paine, Volney, and other persons, the history of whose scepticism is
known, he was ignorant of the actual evidences of the facts and author-
ities of Christianity, and knew it only, as it is most commonly known
to the multitude, through its moral and doctrinal rules and princi-
ples ; and thus, when it became reduced into the mass of clashing creeds
and dogmas, its hold upon mere reason was, as a matter of course,
obscured. But it is to the praise of Mr Boyle, that with him to doubt
was to inquire, and to inquire was to cast away the prepossessions,
and resist the prejudices which obscure the shallow depths of human
speculation. He was determined to " be seriously inquisitive of the
very fundamentals of Christianity, and to hear what both Jews and
Greeks, and the chief sects of Christians, could allege for their
opinions; that so, though he believed more than he could comprehend,
he might not believe more than he could prove." The intellectual
soundness thus perceptible in a youth of fourteen is very remarkable;
and the more so, because it shows a just discernment of the fallacy
upon which so many clever, and sometimes profound reasoners, have
been wrecked in all times. Some refuse to assent to that which can-
not be explained, while others invent systems for the mere explana-
tion of the same difficulties : both confounding explanation with proof,
and overlooking the most elementary conditions of reason and the
limits of human knowledge. Boyle proceeded with the characteristic
sincerity of his temper to fulfil his wise resolution. A mind, so
happily constituted for research, could not fail to receive ready satis-
faction as to the evidences which offer the clearest and best examples
of every proof within the compass of human knowledge. He is
known as an eminent christian ; and this part of his history may be
said to have its illustrious monument in the foundation of a lecture
for the defence of the Christian religion, which has been occupied by
some of the most eminent names in christian theology.

In September, 1641, he left Geneva, and visited many of the princi-
pal towns in Italy. He made a more prolonged stay at Venice, then
in its full splendour, a great centre of trade, and a concourse of nations,
tongues, and manners. It was the age when the last and consummate
finish of a polite education was sought in foreign travel, — foreign
travelling, still an important advantage to the scholar, was then an
indispensable requisite to the polite or learned. It supplied the defi-
ciency of books by the actual observation of things — it opened the
mind by extending the sphere of its intercourse; and, while it enlarged
the conversation, it softened prejudices, and gave ease, affability, and
freedom to the manners and address.

In Florence he passed the winter of the same year, and, during his
stay, acquired the Italian language. Here also he became acquainted
with the "new paradoxes" of Galileo, an acquisition, which, to the
genius of Boyle, may well be supposed to have been important.

G68 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

From Florence he went on to Rome, and was enabled to exercise
his observing and inquiring- spirit without interruption, by taking
upon him the character of a Frenchman. He had, while in Geneva,
acquired the most perfect ease and correctness in that language, and,
in Rome, the acquisition became important. It was his aim to escape
the penetrating espionage of the English Jesuits, whose duty it would
have been to denounce the prohibited presence of an English protes-
tant. Mr Boyle attributed this prohibition to the reluctance which
was felt by the Papal court and the ecclesiastical authorities to allow
strangers, and particularly protestant strangers, to perceive the very
low state of religion then prevalent, and the little reverence paid to
the Pope in his own city. There was, indeed, enough to fix his atten-
tion upon the darkness and intellectual prostration of the place and
time. He never, he declares, saw so small a respect for the Pope as in
Rome, or met with infidelity so open and unshrinking as in Italy.

From Rome he returned to Florence, and from thence to Pisa,
Leghorn, and by sea to Genoa. He then returned to France. On
his journey he was exposed to no small danger in the streets of a fron-
ier town, for refusing to take off his hat to a crucifix. At Marseilles
lie met with gloomy tidings, accompanied by a severe and unexpected
disappointment. Having expected remittances, he only received let-
ters from his father, giving deplorable accounts of the rebellion, and
informing him that he had only had it in his power to raise £250, to
bear their expenses home. This remittance miscarried, it is believed
from the dishonesty of the banker in Paris to whom it was committed.
Under these embarrassing circumstances, Mr Marcombes brought
them back to Geneva, where they were compelled to remain for two
years, in the vain expectation of supplies, and at last found it necessary
to have recourse to an expedient, to enable them to find their way
home. Mr Marcombes obtained a sufficient amount of jewellery on
his own credit, and this enabled them to travel on to England, where
they arrived in 1 644.

In the mean time the earl of Cork had died. He left, by will, the
manor of Stalbridge, and some other property in Ireland, to Robert
Boyle. But though thus well provided for in the way of fortune, the
unsettled condition of the country rendered it difficult for him to
obtain money, so that he found it expedient to reside for several
months with his sister, lady Ranelagh. This arrangement was fortu-
nate, as it was the means of diverting him from a purpose which he
had recently formed of entering the army.

As his brother, lord Broghill, had considerable interest, he obtained
through his means a protection for his estates in England and Ire-
land, and was also permitted to return to France for the purpose of
settling the debts which he had been forced to contract.

He soon returned and retired to his manor of Stalbridge, where he
spent four years in the most intense pursuit of knowledge, occasion-
ally, however, relaxing his mind, or diversifying his studies, by excur-
sions to London and Oxford. During this interval he applied himself
for a time to ethical investigations, upon which subject he composed a
treatise. His favourite pursuit, however, was natural philosophy, in
different departments of which he soon obtained as much knowledge

as the state of science at that period afforded. He mentions of him
self, that, at this period of his life, his industry was so unremitting,
that he continued to mix study with every pursuit, so as not to lose a
moment which could be profitably applied. " If they were walking
down a hill, or on a rough road, he would still be studying till supper,
and frequently proposed such difficulties as he had met with to his
governor."

Among the resources of learned men in that period for the attain-
ment and interchange of knowledge, none was more cultivated or more
effective for its end than epistolary correspondence ; by means of
which, the concert and stimulus which soon after began to be propa-
gated by learned societies, was kept up by individual communications.
For those, who like Boyle devoted themselves to knowledge, such a re-
source was then of primary consideration, and, to a great extent, also
supplied the place of books : the lights of science were uncertain and
rare, and the ardent student of nature was on the watch for every gleam.
Boyle was not remiss in seeking the enlightening intercourse of those
who were the most eminent for worth and learning.

In 1645, during the civil wars, a small company of persons of
talent and learning were in the habit of meeting in London first, and
afterwards, when London became too troubled for peaceful studies, in
Oxford. The object of their meetings was to hold conversations and
make communications in natural philosophy. This was the first begin-
ing of that most illustrious institution the Royal Society, and consisted
of many of those who were its most eminent members — Wallis, Wren,
Ward, Wilkins, &c, — men, among whom, at Mr Boyle's time of life,
it was, in the highest degree, an honour to be included. They wer«
the followers of Bacon, and the immediate precursors of Newton. The
light of human reason had been long struggling, vainly, to break forth
from the overpowering control of the spiritual despotism of the middle
ages; and in Italy, a succession of minds of the first order, Copernicus.
Kepler, Galileo, with his contemporaries, had arisen, in vain, above the
dim twilight of school and cloister — though not permitted to be the
lights of science, yet condemned to leave indelible illustrations of
the power of superstition and slavery, and of the importance of
freedom of thought to the advancement of mankind. This vital ele-
ment had found its place in England: the reformation of religion was
also the rectification of reason, and the spirit of the venerable fathers
of modern science was now to shine out in the daylight of freedom,
unfettered by any impositions save those limits assigned by him from
whom reason is the gift to man. The eminent men whom we have
mentioned had agreed upon weekly meetings at each other's lodgings ;
they also sometimes met in Gresham College. Their meetings were
interrupted after the death of Charles, when London, for a time,
became the seat of crime and anarchy, and especially unsafe for those
who did not wish to go the fullest lengths of compliance with the
spirit of the hour. The principal portion of the members retired to
Oxford. The result of the connexions thus formed was a more deter-
minate direction to the philosophical taste, and, perhaps, an increased
impulse to the extraordinary assiduity with which Mr Boyle devoted

himself to investigations which have conferred upon his name a distin-
guished place in the history of natural philosophy.

The close and sedentary habits, consequent on such assiduous study,
were not without their debilitating effects upon Boyle's corporeal
frame. Before he was yet of age he became subject to repeated
attacks of that most afflicting disease, the stone.

In 1652, he came over to settle his affairs in Ireland, and
remained for a considerable time, but complained very much of the
great obstacles which baffled his efforts to make a progress in his
favourite investigations in chemical science. Still his unrelaxing
ardour found a congenial pursuit in anatomy, and he entered on a
course of dissection, under the guidance of Dr William Petty, physi-
cian to the army. Of this, he says, " I satisfied myself of the circula-
tion of the blood, and have seen more of the variety and contrivances
of Nature, and the majesty and wisdom of her Author, than all the
books I ever read in my life could give me convincing notions of."

In 1654, he executed an intention, which he had long meditated,
of retiring to Oxford, where his chief associates in study still met;
and where he could with more ease pursue his favourite inquiries in
science. It was their custom to meet at each other's apartments or
dwellings, in turn, to discuss the questions of principal interest at the
time, mutually communicating to each other the result of their several
labours. They called themselves the Philosophical College, and per-
haps were not without some sense of the important results to which
their studies were afterwards to lead. They principally applied
themselves to mathematical, and, still more, to experimental inquiries
in natural philosophy. Among this distinguished body, the nucleus
of modern philosophy, Boyle was not the least active or efficient.
Of his labours, we shall presently speak more in detail. He seems
to have been early impressed by the discoveries and the opinions
declared by the Florentine philosophers, and directed his investigations
with a view to confirm and follow out their discoveries: the result
was a very considerable improvement upon the air-pump, a machine
invented very recently by Otto of Guericke, a burgomaster of Magde-
burg. Endowed with faculties, in the very highest degree adapted
to the purposes of experimental science, he pursued, confirmed, and
extended the science of pneumatics, of which the foundations had been
laid by Torricelli, Pascal, and Huygens.

During the same interval, while engaged with ardour essential to
genius and natural to youth, in these captivating and absorbing pur-
suits, Boyle's just, comprehensive, and conscientious spirit was not
turned aside from the still higher path which he had chosen for his
walk through life. The same inquiring, docile, and cautious habits
of mind, improved by the investigations of natural philosophy, were
directed to the investigation of the sacred records. He made great
progress in the acquisition of the Oriental tongues, and in the critical
study of the Scriptures in their original languages. He composed an
" Essay on the Scriptures," in which this proficiency is honourably
illustrated. The exemplary zeal with which, amidst the multiplicity
of his pursuits, and the distraction of severe disease, he gave his mind

to a pursuit, so apt to be overlooked by men intensely engaged in
temporal pursuits, is very strongly expressed by himself. " For my
part, reflecting often on David's generosity, who would not offer as a
sacrifice to the Lord that which cost him nothing, I esteem no labour
lavished that illustrates or endears to me that divine book, and think it
no treacherous sign that God loves a man, when he inclines his heart to
love the scriptures, where the truths are so precious and important that
the purchase must at least deserve the price. And I confess myself
to be none of those lazy persons who seem to expect to obtain from
God a knowledge of the wonders of his book, upon as easy terms as
Adam did a wife, by sleeping soundly." Of this spiritual frame of
mind we shall find numerous and increasing proofs. During his resi-
dence at Oxford he was not less solicitous in his cultivation of, and
intercourse with, the best preachers and ablest divines, than with those
eminent philosophers who had associated themselves with him, and
whose meetings were often held in his apartments. Pococke, Hyde,
Clarke, and Barlow, were among his intimates and advisers in those
studies, of which they were the lights and ornaments in their day. In
common with the ablest and soundest of his literary associates, he
warmly opposed the absurd scholastic method of philosophizing, which
was the remains of the scholastic period, but was maintained under
the abused name and sanction of Aristotle.

The reputation of his learning and sanctity was perhaps extended
by his character as a philosopher, as well as by his illustrious birth.
The lord chancellor Clarendon was among those who importuned him
to enter upon holy orders; but Boyle, with the just and philosophical
discernment, as well as the disinterestedness of his character, refused,
upon the consideration that his writings in support of divine truth
would come with more unmixed authority from one connected by no
personal interest with its maintenance. So high at the same time was
his reputation as a philosopher, that the grand duke of Tuscany
requested of Mr Southwell, the English resident at his court, to con-
vey to Mr Boyle his desire to be numbered among his correspondents.

In 1662, a grant of the forfeited impropriations in Ireland was ob-
tained in his name, but without any previous communication with him.
This he applied to the purposes of maintaining and extending the
benefits of Christianity, by supporting active and efficient clergymen.
In the same year he was appointed president of the Society for the
propagation of the gospel in New England: a society which was, we
believe, the origin of those societies for the same end, of which the
results have been so diffusively connected with the more permanent
and higher interests of the human race.

The philosophical works and investigations of Boyle, in the mean-
while, followed thick upon each other. The splendid progress of the
physical sciences since his time have been, in every branch, such as to
cast an undeserved oblivion over the able and intelligent inquirers who
began the march of science in England. Though they were far in
advance of their day, yet after all, their happiest advances were but
ignorant conjectures, compared with the discoveries which may be
said to have followed in their track. The fame of Hooke is lost in

072 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

the discoveries of Newton.* Boyle is said to have suggested to this
great man the first ideas of his theory of light, in an Essay containing
" Considerations and Experiments concerning Colours." This was
published in 1663, when Newton was in his twentieth year, and three
years before he commenced those experiments to which the theory of
colours is due. But Boyle's researches, directed by a true theory of
the principles of inquiry, were full of true and just suggestions, of
which, nevertheless, it is not a fair way of thinking, to attribute to
them the discoveries of any subsequent inquirer. The same sugges-
tions are, to a marvellous extent, presented to various minds with a
coincidence which may be called simultaneous : they are, in truth, the
product of the age, and of the reality of things. One true notion
received will be similarly applied by nearly all minds of a certain
order; and as principles of investigation and facts become matured
and accumulated, it is rather the wonder how so many can differ than
that so many should agree.

Mr Boyle was, at this period of life, exposed to the ridicule of per-
sons of profligate or worldly temper, by the publication of some moral
essay, under the title of " Occasional Reflections on different Subjects,"
which had been written in his younger days, and which, as might be
expected from one of Mr Boyle's simplicity of mind, went to the fullest
lengthsf in the truths of moral and spiritual reflection. That the
soundest reason should on these, as on all other subjects of thought,
keep nearest to truth, would 'seem to be a natural consequence. But
the mind of society is, to a large extent, enlisted in behalf of the follies
and corrupt conventions by which the spirit of the world is kept in
conceit with itself ; and one of the consequences is the tacit pro
scription of numerous plain truths, which no one denies, and few like
to have forced upon their attention. The formal admission and prac-
tical contempt of many truths have thus converted them into solemn
trifles, destitute of their proper meaning and afforded to satire the
keenest of its shafts, which is directed against everything at which
the world desires to laugh, and would gladly look upon as folly. It
has, in effect, no very profound air to say gravely what every one
knows and no one heeds, and it will become nearly burlesque, if such
things are solemnly put forth in the tone and manner of deep reflec-
tion— the more so, too, as it is always very common to meet amiable
shallow triflers, who deal in commonplaces, because, in fact, they can
talk on no other conditions. But it is easy to see how, to a deep

* Newton probably took the thought of gravitation from Ilooke. It is an interest-
ing fact that Milton seems to have described the idea of solar attraction in the
following lines : —

" What if the sun
Be centre to the wTorld, and other stars
By his attractive virtue and their own
Incited, dance about him various rounds ?"
f Intense and serious minds seldom understand ridicule, and are, therefore, not
unapt to walk unconsciously within its precincts. Ridicule is the great weapon
of ignorance, shallowness, and vice ; but it is wielded in the hands of wit and
malice, and is, therefore, formidable.

THE HON. ROBERT BOYLE. 673

thinker, whose mind is uncorrupted by the world, many great first
truths, which are lost in the vague forms of proverbial commonplace,
should start into an intense reality ; and thus language, which has lost
its sense to worldly wisdom, acquire a power beyond the conception
or keen and shrewd deriders. Of this single-minded, earnest, and
conscientious character was Mr Boyle, to whom the very title of the
Supreme Being brought a sense of veneration, and a host of solemn
and affecting truths, such as seldom in any way, and never very in-
tensely, crossed the minds of those who exercised their wit upon his
reflections. The author of Hudibras was one of these; he imitated
Mr Boyle in " An occasional Reflection on Dr Charlton's feeling a
Dog's Pulse, at Gresham College." Swift also wrote his " Pious
Meditations on a Broomstick," in imitation of the same compositions.

The high reputation, both as a philosopher and a Christian, acquired
by Mr Boyle, recommended him to the respect and favour of all that
was high and honourable in the land. The provostship of Eton having
become vacant, he was nominated by the king to that important station.
This he declined, because he wanted no addition either to his rank or
fortune. He had decided against taking holy orders, for a reason
which we have always considered as having much weight: that the
world, and still more the infidel portion of it, is more likely to be in-
fluenced by the more apparently disinterested Christianity of a lay-
man, than by the professional zeal and testimony of a churchman.
Mr Boyle had also a sense that his devotion to chemistry might be
found inconsistent with the active duties of the college, as he would
find it his duty to fulfil them.

He was, at the same period of his life, appealed to upon a controversy
which then, and often since, has excited the attention of society. This
was the question as to the supposed supernatural virtue of healing,
which was supposed ito reside in the person of a Mr Valentine Great-
rakes. Both parties addressed their appeal to Mr Boyle, as the per-
son of the age most fitted to give an authoritative opinion. We should
enter here very fully into that curious subject, had we not to give a
separate notice on it in the memoir of Mr Greatrakes, where we shall
give it exclusive consideration. Suffice it here to say, that a letter
was addressed to Mr Boyle, by a Mr Stubbe, in behalf of Greatrakes,
and that he replied in another, which, deservedly, obtained great
praise.

In 1667, when a severe attack was made upon the Royal Society,
Mr Boyle took a prominent part in the defence. It was, in reality,
the era of a great revolution in the intellectual world — when the con-
test between the darkness of the scholastic age and the light of the
Newtonian day was at its maximum point of violence." The advocates
of a master, who would have scornfully disclaimed them, supplied the
want of reason in favour of the Aristotelian philosophy, by charging
the new philosophy and its supporters with impiety. The charge
was, indeed, unlucky; it appealed to prejudices, and placed truth itself
in a false position. The sacred history, written in an early age of the
world, and not designed for the chimerical and inconsistent purpose
of teaching natural philosophy, used the language of mankind in its
allusions to nature— the only medium by which it could continue in-

II. 2 V lr.

C74

TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

tellJgible through so many states of civilization. But as men theo-
rized on nature, and came to various notions on the structure of the
mundane system, it is evident that they would compare the language
of holy writ with the conclusions of science. Hence difficulties would
arise. To deal with these, or to prevent them, the jargon of the
schools was a convenient, but most mischievous resource. It was
virtually the means of arriving at any desired inference by verbal dex-
terity. Thus adopting as sacred revelations, the indispensable lan-
guage of the Bible, it preserved an erroneous system of physics, by
excluding the consideration of phenomena. The mistake of the
ancient writers on this head was two-fold; for, the scripture was not
only understood to declare an accurate system of the world, but its
language was so interpreted as to convert the prevalent philosophy
of the age into the intent and meaning of the sacred text. Thus,
unhappily, arose the self-perpetuation of error : it perverted scripture ;
and erected the perversion into sacred authority. When the reason
of mankind became more free, another evil result arose : the fallacies
which were thus wedded to the Bible, by old and venerated error,
could not be easily divorced, and became a fertile ground for the
sophisti*y of the deist. And yet, in a philosophic age, it seems strange
that sophisms so obvious should have been ventured. It oug-ht, indeed,
to be observed that even the latest works on astronomy are liable to the
very same misinterpretations; for, from the difficulty and complica-
tion of the subject, it is found necessary to adopt a fictitious con-
vention, founded on appearances, as an indispensable necessity of
language. And that fiction is the very same which the philosophers
and divines of ages imagined to be a system maintained on the
authority of scripture — which contained no system, and disclosed
not one single fact in nature. For the purpose, it should, indeed,
have contained some other books, bigger than itself, of pure and
unmixed mathematics. Nor would it be very possible to fix a limit
where God should cease to reveal, and reason begin its queries,
cavils, and senseless mistakes and superstitions. The language of
Laplace, of the vulgar of all ages, founded on the common principles
of human language, is precisely that which the sacred penmen have
used ; because there never was, or will be, any other. The secret that
the truth of God needs no veil of consecrated error — and that his
word stands aloof and undefiled by the rashness of theories, or the
fanaticism of schools — was as far from being understood as the Baco-
nian philosophy. As a theory of metaphysics, the inductive method
might be suffered to pass among other subtle speculations: specula-
tion had, indeed, so little connexion with practice, that there was
nothing very formidable in any effort of this nature — it was simply a
great book to swell the mass of academic lucubration. But it was a
different thing when a new race of inquirers arose, and, thro wing-
aside the endless and inconclusive resources of division, distinction,
syllogism, and definition, stretched beyond, and mistaken in their use,
and began to weigh and measure, compare, compound, and analyze,
and seek for the constitution of nature by a diligent and searching
examination of nature itself. Such a new and daring course would
not only assail the learned repose of universities, and deprive grave

doctors of much cheap-won wisdom, but it also gave a violent shock
to that factious zeal with which systems are so much upheld. Hence
it was that where reason failed, it was an easy, though most unfor-
tunate, resource of controversy, to call in the aid of an appeal such as
that we have described, and bring holy writ to the aid of the Aristo-
telians. The error has been propagated down to our times, checking
science, and abusing scripture. The Royal Society was its first ob-
ject. Mr Boyle was personally treated with the respect of his anta-
gonists— a remarkable testimony to his reputation for piety and worth.
A friend of his, who was a leading writer in the controversy, notices
him in this honourable manner : that he " alone had done enough to
oblige all mankind, and to erect an eternal monument to his memory;
so that had he lived in the clays when men godded their benefactors,
he could not have missed one of the first places among their deified
mortals; and that in his writings are to be found the greatest strength
and the sweetest modesty, the noblest discoveries and the most gene-
rous self-denial, the profoundest insight into philosophy and nature,
and the most devout and affectionate sense of God and religion."

In the following year he changed his residence from Oxford to
London, where he took up his quarters with the lady Ranelagh his
sister. The change facilitated his communication with the Royal
Society, and with learned men. As was usual, he continued to pro-
duce and send forth essays on various branches of natural philosophy;
chiefly, however, upon subjects connected with the properties of air and
water. In 1670, he published a work containing a more detailed
account of his philosophical speculations and discoveries. This work
obtained very general notice, and we can have no hesitation in saying,
that it gave a vast impulse to chemical inquiry.

In 1671, his health, ever very delicate, received a severe shock
from a paralytic disease. He, nevertheless, recovered, it is said by the
adoption of a strict regimen, with the help of medical treatment.

Among the very numerous tracts which he every year published,
there was, in 1674, a paper read in the Royal Society on " quicksilver
growing hot with gold," which drew a letter from Newton to caution
him against any premature disclosure on a fact apparently so favour-
able to Alchymy. Mr Boyle seems not altogether to have abandoned
some of these notions more properly appertaining to that visionary
science: this was, however, both natural, and even philosophically just,
in the commencement of a science of which it was the origin. Alchymy
had already produced a rich accumulation of facts, and it was impos-
sible to decide where the true line was to be found between reality
and conjecture. Though it is the spirit of inductive science to ques-
tion nature, by means of experiment and observation, it is plain that
there must be some previous process of conjecture to give the direc-
tion to inquiry. The true principle of conjecture is, that it should be
directed by knowledge; as, out of ascertained facts, various probabili-
ties arise to exercise the invention and sagacity of the inquirer. Laws
of nature rise slowly to observation, and with them the law of obser-
vation and inference grows both stricter and surer. To venture to
assume these limiting rules prematurely, would have been a fatal error;
and even still it would be hard to fix the bounds of the unknown, and

therefore mysterious processes of nature. We cannot affirm that
mankind may not, in the course of half a century, have ascertained
not only numerous new and unknown properties, such as to give an
entirely new aspect to the laws supposed to be those of nature, but
have discovered results which must be concluded to indicate further
elementary laws as yet unknown. But there is a sound rule, of which
we shall have much occasion to speak further — it is this ; that there is
a certain perceptible analogy in the operations of nature, which it is
chimerical and visionary to depart from, but within which the utmost
latitude of conjecture may and even must be allowed, even to the
apparent verge of extravagance. A known operation, working accord-
ing to an ascertained law, may, according to this principle, be carried
in experiment to any extreme length against which human ignorance
has set up its canon of prejudice; because, in fact, there is nothing
can be pronounced impossible, unless for some specific reason on the
most rigidly ascertained grounds. On the other hand, to violate this
analogy would be to take improbability for the guide of science ; to
neglect it would be to take chance, and drift upon the ocean of non-
existence. The reader of these remarks cannot fail to keep in view,
that their application is not to the grounds of strict inference, which,
to have any value, must be derived by the strictest reasoning from the
most rigid facts; but to the grounds of probable conjecture which is
the guide of trial. In Mr Boyle's day, the founders of modern science
might justly entertain a salutary terror against the visions of the em-
pirical philosophy, founded as they were upon a mixture of supersti-
tion, lawless fancies, traditionary dogmas, crude hypotheses, and pre-
mature generalizations. And as human reason is ever oscillating to
extremes, the new impulse would naturally lead the followers of
Galileo and Bacon to take a narrow basis for their views in science;
and in departing from the visionary fields of the old hermetic science,
leave behind some solid and valuable truths. Looking on the subject
with these reflections, we are rather led to admire the tempered and
considerate spirit of Mr Boyle, than to qualify his character by the
admission of an enthusiasm for the occult and mystical, which seems
to have tinged his zeal and led him further into speculative inquiry
than he would have gone in the next generation. With or without
such a qualification — the extent, variety, and soundness, of his inves-
tigation, placed natural philosophy on a firm and broad foundation,
and gave the great impulse, from which numerous inquiries of far
less genius have since obtained higher celebrity.

The very titles of some of his works convey the sound election with
which he observed the errors and obstructions of human inquiry,
which impeded, and even still, in some measure, continue to impede
natural science. Of this nature may be specified his " Free Inquiry
into the vulgar notion of Nature;" and his "Disquisition into the final
causes of natural things, and with what caution a naturalist should
admit them."

It appears that several of his writings were lost by various causes,
among which there occurs one not now very easy to apprehend. It is
stated by himself, that he had lost numerous manuscripts by the sur-
reptitious depredation of visitors. In 1686, he published some state-

merits of the various obstacles he had met with, and the difficulties
which he had encountered in the publication of his writings. This is
now chiefly important as one of the numerous indications of a state of
literature altogether different from that of more recent times. It is
now not very far from the truth to say, that the universal sense of
literary men is one which would suggest an apology of an opposite
purport from that of Mr Boyle's ; and indeed, there are few prefaces
which do not contain some implication of the kind. A modern writer
may perhaps feel, with some reason, that he has to account for the
public appearance, in which the public is but little or not at all inter-
ested: but Mr Boyle felt the solemn duty of one to whom it was com-
mitted to enlighten and instruct an age of great comparative igno-
rance. His apology indicates the entire absence of those sentiments of
egotism and arrogance, of which such an apology might now be re-
garded as the language. But it is to be admitted that, in this respect,
the claim of the scientific inquirer yet stands upon a peculiar ground ; the
successful prosecutor of discoveries must always possess a claim upon
the mind of his age: he owes something to the world, and the world
something to him — he stands apart, because he is in advance of his
age — his appeal is the assertion of a duty, not the boast of a merit,
or a demand for the admiration of the world. Such claims as Mr
Boyle had to the respect and gratitude of his age, were then accom-
panied by much anxiety, and the sense of a jealous and earnest com-
petition. The whole structure of science was to be built — and as the
ignorance of nature had, till then, been occasioned by an entire per-
version in the method and direction of the human mind — there was a
wide waste of obvious phenomena which lay upon the surface, ready to
offer themselves to the first glances of rightly directed inquiry. It
was a consequence that, among the philosophers of the age, there was
a jealous competition. In this was, then, first displayed that unscru-
pulous disregard to truth and justice, which has in so many instances
disgraced foreign philosophers, who have shown an unpardonable
readiness to appropriate the inventions and discoveries of English
science. The reader will recollect the great controversy concerning
the fluxionary or differential calculus, of which this was the period.
Similarly, Mr Boyle had to complain of numerous instances in which
he was the object of similar frauds. Many copied his writings without
any citation of authority, or stated his experiments in their books as
if they had made them themselves.

A life of indefatigable research and study could not fail to affect
the extremely delicate constitution of Mr Boyle. Great temperance,
and continual caution which is mostly enforced by so tender a frame,
had perhaps made the most of his strength. But he at last felt it due
to science, and essential to his ease and health, to restrict his labours,
and to avoid all superfluous engagements. He seems to have been
deeply impressed with that sense of the value of time which belongs
to those who have great and permanent objects of pursuit, and an
earnest desire to accomplish the truer and worthier ends of existence.
The broad ocean of discovery, too vast for even the contemplation of
the highest human reason, or for the mind of ages, lay yet untried in
all its magnificent expanse before his mind's eye : he could anticipate

678 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

numerous tracts of research, and doubtless conceive numerous splendid
results, which human life would be short to follow or attain. Such a
sense is more penurious of its hours than the miser of his gold: the
gold may be accumulated, but the measured moments can neither be
increased nor recalled. As most men live, it is true that an hour
gained or lost would be but a little more or less of a useless commodity ;
while to one like Boyle it was truly more than wealth could compen-
sate: some such sentiment suggested the aphorism of Bacon, ars longa,
vita brevis. Mr Boyle, whose labours were the practical illustration
of Bacon's philosophy, left also an illustrious example of the strictest
economy of time. Zealous in the pursuit of important truths, he saw
that, with his diminished energies, and diminishing days, it was
necessary to cut off all superfluities, and avoid all uncalled-for waste
of time and labour. With this view he ceased drawing up those for-
mal communications to the Royal Society, which but interrupted the
business of investigation, led to premature discussion, and broke in
upon the settled frame of his thoughts. With much regret he re-
signed his office of governor to the corporation for propagating the
gospel in New England. He published an advertisement declining
the numerous visits to which his great celebrity exposed him; and put
up a board to indicate the hours when he could receive those whom
he could not, or would not, refuse to see. For these he set apart two
mornings and two evenings in each week.

He availed himself of the leisure thus obtained, not only to pro-
secute his important investigations, but to repair the loss of many
valuable papers, and to put the whole in a more convenient and sys-
tematic order.

In 1691, Mr Boyle's health, which had never been strong, began to
give way to such an extent, that he concluded it full time to prepare
for his end, and executed his last will. The rapid indications of a
failure of the powers of life increased through the summer, and in
October were so far advanced that no hope remained of any very de-
cided restoration. His decline was considered to have been accelerated
by his extreme concern about the illness of his dear sister, the lady
Ranelagh, with whom he had ever lived on terms of the tenderest at-
tachment. And as they had been united through life, they were
not to be painfully disunited by the grave. Lady Ranelagh died
on the 23d of December, l6yl ; and on the 30th of the same month,
she was followed by her brother: a man who, if regard be had to the
combination of high philosophic genius, moral worth, and genuine
Christian goodness, has not been equalled, in any known instance, in
succeeding generations. Holding' a foremost place among the philo-
sophers of that age, he was equally prominent, and still more deserv-
ing of veneration and honour as a Christian. With a spirit too wise
to desire the adventitious honours which had been showered, with a
liberal hand, on all the members of his family, and were pressed by
royal favour on his acceptance — he refused to obscure with a title that
name which continues to be the grace and ornament of the records of
a family which has produced many persons of worth and public dis-
tinction.

He was, in a high degree, instrumental in the propagation of the

THE HON. ROBERT BOYLE. G79

gospel: for this purpose his influence and fortune were used with
energy and perseverance. He spent £700 upon the Irish translation
of the Bible — of which he sent 500 copies into Ireland, and 200 into
the highlands of Scotland. He also had printed, at his own expense,
3000 catechisms and prayer-books, for the highlands — of which the
spiritual welfare had been deplorably neglected. He gave £300 for
spreading the gospel in America.

We have already mentioned his foundation of a lecture for the de-
fence of revealed religion, of which the object was thus expressed:
" To be ready to satisfy real scruples, and to answer such new objec-
tions and difficulties as might be stated, to which good answers had
not been made," &c. The fruits of this noble institution have been
rich: such men as Bentley, Harris, Clarke, Whiston, and Butler, form
a constellation of bright lights in the train of the noble founder ; and,
doubtless, far more illustrious has been the result which lies beyond
the estimate of human praise — " the turning of many to righteous-
ness;" for, considering that such minds are endowed by heaven, and
such efforts commanded to man, we cannot suppose them to be ineffec-
tually employed. But we may here pause to dwell on the characteris-
tic sagacity which planned such a lecture. In any other department
of knowledge it might be presumed that one full statement of an argu-
ment, of which all the facts are so long and so fully known as those of
Christianity, might be enough to put an end to all doubts and further
arguments in one way or another. But the natural aversion of irreli-
gious minds to the gospel has the very peculiar, though obviously
natural effect, of leading men to find arguments to satisfy themselves
with a perfect ignorance of its nature, facts, and evidences. There is a dis-
like to be convinced, peculiar to this one great arg-ument: and hence the
fertility of human invention in devising such arguments as may shut
out all chance of disturbing the illusions of scepticism ; that is, all such
arguments as are independent of the question itself, and are, therefore,
without limit. A curious consequence of this is, that every genera-
tion has brought forth its own peculiar form of infidelity ; some argu-
ment of which the absurdity has become too manifest to be relied upon,
even by the sceptics of the next. This curious illustration of the real
elementary principle of scepticism, seems to have been contemplated
in Mr Boyle's foundation.

As a philosopher, there is now some difficulty in doing strict justice
to Boyle. His writings have been superseded by the completion, or
the far advance which has been made in those branches of natural
philosophy to which he mainly applied his attention. But it will bo
enough to say, that all the most eminent inquirers in the same track —
such as, for instance, Priestley — have spoken of him as the founder of
the important science of pneumatics. The testimonies of foreign phi-
losophers are also numerous and important. He was, in England, the
first follower of Bacon ; and, though the branches of science which he
cultivated by no means claim so high a rank, yet he may be called
the predecessor of Newton, and that illustrious host of mathemati-
cians who commenced and brought to perfection the noblest structure
of knowledge that has been, or can be attained, by human powers.
He must be viewtid as the most eminent man in England, among those

who effected a great revolution in human knowledge; which was no
less than a transition from the scholastic to the experimental schools —
from mere words to facts. Of this great change the beginnings are,
doubtless, to be traced to previous generations and other countries :
but it would lead to wide digression to say more here upon a topic
which we shall have frequent occasions to notice more at large.

We shall, therefore, conclude this sketch of Boyle, by a mere enu-
meration of his scientific writings. They are as follow: —

1. " New Experiments, Physico-Mechanical, touching the Spring
of the Air, and its Effects, 1660." 2. "Sceptical Chemist, 1662;"
reprinted in 1679 ; with the addition of Divers Experiments. 3. " Cer-
tain Physiological Essays and other Tracts, 1661." 4. " Considera-
tions touching the Usefulness of Experimental Philosophy, 1663."
5. " Experiments and Considerations upon Colours, 1 663." 6. " New
Experiments upon Cold, 1665." 7. " Hydrostatical Paradoxes, 1666."
8. " Origin of Forms and Qualities, according to Corpuscular Philo-
sophy, 1666." 9. "The Admirable Refractions of the Air, 1670."
10. "The Origin and Virtue of Gems, 1672." 11. "The Relation
between Flame and Air, 1672." 12. " On the Strange Subtilty, Great
Efficacy, &c, of Effluvia, 1673." 13. "The Saltness of the Sea,
Moisture of the Air, &c, 1664." 14. "On the Hidden Qualities of
the Air, 1674." 15. " The Excellence, &c, of the Mechanical Hypo-
thesis, 1674." 16, " Porosity of Bodies, 1684." 17. " Natural His-
tory of Mineral Waters, 1684." 18. " Experimenta et Observationes
Physical, 1691," which was the last work published during his life.
But two posthumous works afterwards were published, viz., " Natural
History of Air, 1692;" and "Medicinal Experiments, 1718."

VALENTINE GREATRAKES.

BORN A.D. 1628. DIED CIRC. A.D. 1690.

The claim of Mr Greatrakes to our notice is very peculiar, and such
as, considering the very justifiable prepossessions of the reasonable
class of men against all pretensions to which the term of quackery has
been, or can be applied — it will, perhaps, be in some degree hazardous
to notice with the equitable spirit of philosophic indifference. The
great celebrity which he obtained in his day is, perhaps, characteristic
of that day. It extended from the hut of the Irish peasant to the
court of England, and furnished matter for wonder and discussion to
philosophers and universities. But we are happy to seize the occasion
which is thus offered of discussing an important topic which stands in
some need of sober and impartial comment.

On the incidents of the life of Greatrakes we shall consult the utmost
brevity. He is himself the authority for his early history. He was
born in 1 628, and was the son of William Greatrakes, of Affanche, in
the county of Waterford. His mother was a daughter of Sir E
Harris, knight, and a judge in the king's bench. He was educated
at the free school of Lismore, and designed for the university ; but
this destination was frustrated by the great rebellion which broke out

VALENTINE GKEATRAKES. 681

in his fourteenth year. He took refuse with his uncle, Mr E. Harris,
who attended to the completion of his education with laudahle dili-
gence, and, as he says, "perfected him in humanity and divinity."

At the restoration, Mr Greatrakes was made clerk of the peace for
the county of Cork, and a magistrate, and discharged the duties of
these offices so as to obtain the respect of the district.

In the midst of such avocations, he became suddenly seized with an
impression that he was personally endowed with some healing virtue:
this incident must be related in his own words: — "About four years
since I had an impulse which frequently suggested to me that there
was bestowed on me the gift of curing the king's evil, which for the
extraordinariness thereof, I thought fit to conceal for some time ; but,
at length, I told my wife; for whether sleeping or waking, I had this
impulse ; but her reply was, ' that it was an idle imagination.' But,
to prove the contrary, one William Maher, of the parish of Lismore,
brought his son to my wife — who used to distribute medicines in
charity to the neighbours — and my wife came and told me that I had
now an opportunity of trying my impulse, for there was one at hand
that had the evil grievously in the eyes, throat, and cheeks; where-
upon I laid my hands on the places affected, and prayed to God, for
Jesus' sake, to heal him. In a few days afterwards the father brought
his son so changed that the eye was almost quite whole; and to be
brief (to God's glory I speak it), within a month he was perfectly
healed — and so continues."

It is then stated that he proceeded to discover, and to display to the
wonder of the whole surrounding country, a power of healing which
was so great and so evident in its effects as to silence even the scepti-
cism of physicians. And so great became his fame that crowds flocked
around his dwelling, from all parts of the country, and filled his barns
and out-houses with diseases of every kind. His fame soon spread to
England, and he was invited over to cure lady Conway of an obstinate
headache. In England, he was followed by multitudes: he failed to
afford the desired relief to the lady Conway, but was successful in
curing numbers of the poor people.

The practice of Mr Greatrakes was wholly gratuitous, and the
power by which he effected his cures he attributed to a supernatural
gift. In England, such pretensions soon led to public discussion —
in which two parties took opposite views, both in a very high degree
worthy of being noticed, as examples of two unphilosophical modes
of solution which derive considerable importance from the frequency
with which they may be observed to recur in the history of human opinion
- one party at once attributing the cures to some supernatural gift, the
other resolving the difficulty by some conjectural cause. Of these,
the first assumes that all the operations and powers which are termed
natural, are so thoroughly known that anything which cannot be ac-
counted for, or resolved into an effect of some known cause, must be
called supernatural. The other, still more absurd, escapes the diffi-
culty by assigning some known but inadequate cause, which amounts
to no more than giving a name to a thing, and then explaining it by
that name. Thus, while Mr Stubbe wrote a pamphlet, in which he
described the healing power of Greatrakes as a gift bestowed by God,

682 TRANSITION".— LITERARY.

and with curious inconsistency described the elementary operation oi
the supposed gift — his adversaries attributed it to the power of friction,
neglecting to observe, that if friction had anything to do with the
cures supposed, it must be as the means of setting in motion some
other cause, without a knowledge of which nothing was explained.

Mr Boyle was appealed to, and he appears to have viewed the ques-
tion with the temperate and impartial mind of a philosopher — which
is to be neither hasty to affirm nor deny. He admitted the possibility
of miraculous gifts, because he found no absolute reason to deny it:
but, considering the description of the actual facts, he saw no reason
to class them as miracles : he justly observed, and the observation is very
important, that they were wholly dissimilar from the miracles related
in Scripture. He did not deny that there might be some mechanical
cause, or some healing virtue applicable by the touch of the hand,
especially considering the known powers of the imagination. And he
illustrated his reasoning by examples of cures performed by the im-
mediate and direct effect of this influence.

As subsequent controversies have given very considerable import'
ance to the principles involved in this question, we shall not leave
it without making some general remarks; and in doing this we shall,
to the utmost extent, avoid the slightest leaning to the controverted
opinions of any class of persons. It may be unnecessary to mention,
that the main form in which these considerations have been latterly
involved, has been the great controversy concerning mesmerism; or
as it has been recently termed, animal magnetism.

On the facts, concerning- which these questions have arisen, we are
no further acquainted than by hearsay. But as they are not authorita-
tively contradicted, their reality may for the present purpose be assumed.
Both parties have, so far as we have had cognizance, joined issue on
the facts, and are at variance upon the law. We only design to notice
here, the errors in reason which they have committed — what may be-
come of the question concerning mesmerism, is a matter of great com-
parative unimportance : it is our object to guard the integrity of reason
which is so apt to suffer grievously in the heat of such disputes.

Against those who have been the assertors or practitioners of mes-
merism, two objections are to be made, neither of which demand much
comment, — that of imposture, and that of premature theorizing-. On
the first, we must be very brief: we have not personally had any ex-
perience of the facts commonly alleged; they have been affirmed on
very strong authority, and submitted to every test of which they seem
capable. Some of them appear to admit of no deception. And it
ought to be observed that, among the most intelligent of their opponents
admissions have been directly or indirectly made, which amount to the
concession of all that can be contended for short of idle speculation.
The other charge is, indeed, but too well warranted against both sides ; it
rests on that common infirmity of human reason, which has from the
beginning of time loaded human knowledge with the encumbrance of
idle speculations. The almost universal fallacy of assuming- that every
thing known is to be explained by the best conjecture that occurs.
Accordingly, the magnetists have in their tracts upon the subject, so
amply involved their very debatable facts in such idle reasonings as

VALENTINE GREATEAKES.

683

very much to multiply their vulnerable points, and to raise questions on
which they can be assailed beyond the power of effective defence.
When the ridiculous reason, or the absurd pretence, is exposed, the
multitude, equally shallow in its scepticism as in its credulity, will
easily be induced to overlook the facts. The charge of sleight, or im-
posture, is as effective as any other explanation — it is at least as cheap
as a miracle.

Against the adversaries of the magnetists, the charges to be made
are the hasty denial of facts ; and the opposition of these facts, so far
as admitted, by fallacies and evasions.

Of those who deny facts, simply on the ground that they are im-
possible, or that they have not witnessed them, there is nothing to be
said — they are unreasonable, and not to be met by reason. The most
respectable opponents of mesmerism are those who, admitting the facts
so far as they have been actually ascertained by competent trial and
observation, have considered it as a sufficient argument to silence all
further consideration of the subject, to find a name for them, or to
refer them to some known natural cause; and then take it for granted
that there is nothing further, and assert that the whole matter is
undeserving of further notice.

In the reign of Louis XVI. of France, the question was referred to
a committee of professional men, who completely put an end to the
question for the time, by referring the phenomena to imitation. This
was explained by the fact of that species of sympathy which is known
in numerous cases to take place in the human mind and body. The
arg-ument has been since taken up, and received various improvements
of the same character — nervous influence has been of some use, and
the mere agency of the imagination has been of still more. And,
finally, in our own times, it has been thought full sufficient reason
against the magnetists to say that the phenomena are no more than
disease.

Now, what renders all this deplorably fallacious is, that every one
of these objections may be fully admitted, and still leave every ques-
tion worthy of consideration untouched. Imitation, as an act of the will,
to which it may be referred as a cause, is not the kind of imitation in-
tended: involuntary imitation is but an effect to be accounted for, and
which can explain nothing. If the phenomena are such as to be pro-
perly called imitative, it neither tells nor explains to say that they are
the effects of imitation; this is still but the very fact to be explained.
If, however, a further step is taken towards the discovery of an effi-
cient cause, and that nervous sympathy, or the influence of imagina-
tion be considered as such; the first point would be to trace the
indications of these several causes in the actual phenomena; when
this is done, it will remain to be proved that anything is gained in
the controversy. The same may be said with greater force of the
objection, that the phenomena in question are nothing but disease.
The answer to all these is, that the phenomena of mesmerism or
magnetism, are altogether independent of any theory by which their
explanation may be attempted: they may be nervous, or some form of
disease; but, if it can be proved that such facts have real existence,
there is nothing to justify the charge of imposture maintained by

684 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

an explanation, wnich, if it has any force, proves something different.
Our objection to such a course is this, that a presumed imposture is
resisted hy a gross fallacy. Before we leave this part of the subject
we must observe of the methods of solution to which we have here ad-
verted, that many of the alleged facts are such as to exclude altogether
both imitation and imagination, and every other known agency. That
the same facts are justly referred to certain diseased states of the mind
or body, of which they are the known symptoms, presents a different
question on which we have some remarks to offer.

Now, supposing the charge of mere imposture abandoned (as we be-
lieve it to be), by the most reasonable opponents ; and the far more just
objection made, that the effects in question are disease — that the prac-
tice is dangerous — and, though not imposture in one sense, yet is a most
pernicious resource in the hands of quacks and other impostors. This
may be very true, and if so cannot be answered. But, in the mean-
time, it does not justify the course which has been followed with regard
to magnetism. It was not, perhaps, so much amiss in the time of Louis
XVI., when investigation was limited, and authority despotic, to put
down a pernicious practice by any means. But neither conclave,
college, nor court, can now exercise the smallest influence to arrest the
expansive curiosity and intelligence of the human mind — the tricks of
night are too visible in the full daylight of reason. Such ineffectual
opposition can only awaken resistance from the multitudes who wonder
at magnetism, and the few who respect reason. Let the really rational
opponents of magnetic experiments take a more open and philosophic
course.

If the practice of magnetism is really pernicious, this is surely the
vractical ground to take against it; but this cannot effectually be taken
by those who treat it as a fiction. Surely they who should have the
leading voice in such a question, have put themselves inadvertently in
a position from which the sooner they extricate themselves the better.
But if the allegations of so many of the most authoritative wit-
nesses are — as we are here taking for granted — really true, there is
a wider view of the subject.

If in any one single case out of a thousand trials — for the number
of failures is of no real importance — any one of the most remarkable
phenomena of mesmerism is actually produced, as a natural pheno-
menon, it is not less worthy of notice and investigation, than if the
trial should succeed in every instance. The small class of facts, thus
observed — supposing no defect in the observation — would be the cer-
tain indications of some principle, or of some process in human nature,
beyond the limit of that circle of cause and effect hitherto ascertained.
Such an extension of our knowledge would be rejected by no true
philosophy. In such a supposition it is vain and absurd to pretend
that all further questions, concerning such facts, must end by referring
them to disease, or imagination, or nerves. None of which causes even
make a seeming approach towards the explanation of the facts. If,
for instance, there is a state of disease in which the patient becomes
cognizant of things existing and passing elsewhere, and not otherwise
known, it may be catalepsy; but it is evident that the symptom indi-
cates some process beyond the ordinary range of human faculties, as

yet otherwise known. It is at once evident that no mental or physical
cause yet distinctly known, named, or classed, in any department of
natural phenomena, can account for it. It cannot be sympathy or
imagination, or nervous affection, in any sense yet intelligibly contained
in these words.

But it may, perhaps, be inexplicable — so is every fact in nature be-
yond some point — but, it is enough that it is, if truly stated, a fact
which extends our knowledge of our intellectual constitution, by prov-
ing that it contains capabilities and provisions which are developed in
certain states of disorder, more powerful in action and range than any
known in health, and wholly different in kind. It surely manifests the
existence of a function, and a capability which extends our knowledge
of the human mind. If disease can develop some new sense, the pro-
vision is probably designed for some use beyond disease by the great
Creator, who can scarcely be presumed to have made so elaborate a pro-
vision for the information of a cataleptic patient.

There is an objection which we have heard with concern and sur-
prise. Some good men have expressed their fear, that the miracles of
the Scripture history might be attributed to animal magnetism. When
we recall the reasonings of the deist, we cannot but admit that such a
fallacy would not be too absurd. The first principle of scepticism is the
confusion of distinctions ; and this, though it would be a most egregi-
ous instance, would not be one of the worst. But such an oversight
can only, for a moment, be indulged in by those who are in the habit
of arguing on the sacred narrative without having taking the trouble
to look into it; as the miracles of either the Old or New Testament
are not such as to admit of explanation either by magnetism or any
other natural means — and must be wholly fable, or wholly super
natural.

As for the cures practised, or supposed to be practised, by Great-
rakes, and others since his time — we believe that, in part, they may
be safely attributed to the influence of the imagination. That they
may also, to some extent, be attributable to the same influence as
animal magnetism operating- in some peculiar way, is not unreasonable
to suspect. But, admitting the utmost as to the facts, we see no
ground for the inference of any supernatural influence. It is easy to
see why such a power, in the possession of an individual, should in
certain circumstances be made available for imposture; but we cannot
admit that imposture is to be best resisted by the weapons of fraud,
or by that more comprehensive class of fallacies which from the
beginning of time have retarded all knowledge. Any delusion which
extensively affects the public mind must, in these days of opinion, be
fairly examined; and when it becomes for any reason worth while
to investigate, it ought to be such a fair investigation as alone can
bear any decided conclusion. It should never be forgotten, on such
occasions, that nothing can be called impossible but that which directly
contradicts itself or some known truth.

We have been led into this discussion by a remark, in which we
ag-ree, made by one of the writers of Mr Boyle's life, in commenting
on the same facts. " Li may in the present age, perhaps, be thought
that Mr Boyle ought to have laid more emphasis on the power of

G86 TRANSITION. —LITERARY.

imagination over organized matter, and the effects of animal mag-
netism or enthusiasm, and rejected altogether the notion of superna-
tural influences."

Greatrakes was himself under the firm, and we helieve sincere, per-
suasion, that his power of healing was a supernatural gift. Some
attacked him as an impostor, while others endeavoured to account for
his cures, by the theory of a " sanative contagion in the body, which
has an antipathy to some particular diseases and not to others."
Among other opponents, St Evremond assailed him in a satirical novel.
In the main, however, the most respectable physicians and philosophers
of the time supported him with testimonies, which we should now And
it hard to reject. Among these were Mr Boyle, Bishop Rust, the
celebrated Cudworth, Dr Wilkins, Dr Patrick, &c. The writer of a
brief, but full memoir of Greatrakes in the Dublin Penny Journal,
cites a long letter from lord Conway to Sir George Rawdon, in which
he gives an account of a cure to which he was an eyewitness. The
subject was a leper who had for ten years been considered incurable.
He was the son of a person of high respectability, and brought forward
by the bishop of Gloucester, which makes fraudulent conclusion im-
probable— the cure was immediate. The case is, therefore, as strong
and as well attested as any such case is likely to be.

The celebrity thus attained by Greatrakes in England was very
great. And Charles II. who invited him to London, recommended
him very strongly.

There is, however, no record of the latter part of his life. He is
traced in Dublin, in 1681, when he was about fifty -three years of age.

WENTWORTH DILLON, EARL OF ROSCOMMON.

BOHN A.D. 1633. DIED A.D. 1684.

The ancestry of this nobleman has been already noticed among these
memoirs. He was son to the third earl of Roscommon, and by his
mother, nephew to the illustrious earl of Strafford.

His father had been in the communion of the church of Rome, but
was converted by Usher — so that he was educated as a protestant.
His early years were wholly past in Ireland, and he first visited Eng-
land when his uncle, the earl of Strafford, returned thither from his
government, and carried him over to his seat in Yorkshire, where he
placed him under the care of a Mr Hall, an eminent scholar. It is
mentioned that, from this gentleman, he learned Latin without any
previous instruction in grammar, of which it was found impossible to
make him recollect the rules. The difficulty is, indeed, one of such
frequent occurrence, that it is satisfactory to learn that his lordship
was distinguished for the ease and purity of his Latin — in which he
maintained a considerable correspondence.

The beginning of the civil wars made it unsafe to remain under the
protection of the earl of Strafford, and, by the advice of archbishop
Usher, he was sent to France. There was a Protestant university in
Caen — here he studied for some time under the tuition of Bochart.

WENTWORTH DILLON, EARL OF ROSCOMMON. 687

Having completed his course of study, he travelled through Italy,
where he attained considerable skill in medals, and a perfect mastery
of the language. He did not return to England till the restoration —
he was favourably received by king Charles II., and made captain of
the band of pensioners.

His intercourse with the dissolute court of Charles was productive
of a hurtful effect upon his morals, and he abandoned himself for a
time to excesses from which not many recover. He injured his estate
by gambling, and is said to have fought many duels.

Some questions having arisen about a part of his property, he was
compelled to visit Ireland, and resigned his post at court. The duke
of Ormonde, soon after his arrival, made him captain of the guards.
This post he soon resigned under the following circumstances, — as he
was one night returning home from a gaming-house, he was suddenly
set upon by three men, who, it is said, were hired for the purpose.
He slew one of them, and a gentleman who was passing at the instant
came to his assistance and disarmed another, on which the third ran
away. The gentleman who thus seasonably had come to his aid, was
a disbanded officer of excellent reputation, but in a condition of utter
want. The earl, entertaining a strong sense of the important service
to which he probably owed his life, determined to resign his own post
in his favour, and solicited the duke for his permission. The duke
consented, and the gentleman was appointed captain in his place.

He returned to England as soon as the arrangement of his affairs
permitted. There he was appointed master of the horse to the duchess
of York. He soon after married a daughter of lord Burlington.

From the time of his marriage he gave himself to literature, and
became, as the reader is probably aware, one of the distinguished
poets of that time. He was associated with all that was gifted and
brilliant among the wits and poets of the town and court, and was
joined with Dryden in a project for fixing the standard of the English
tongue. The growing interruption of those ecclesiastical disturbances
which had begun to disturb the peace of the kingdom, and, doubtless,
brought serious alarm to a generation which yet retained the memory
of the preaching soldiers of Cromwell — damped the ardour of literary
projects, and made his lordship doubt the safety of England. He re-
solved to pass the remainder of his life in Rome, and told his friends,
that " it would be best to sit next to the chimney when it smoked."
Dr Johnson has observed that the meaning of the sentence is obscure.
We do not think many of our readers will join in this opinion: if any
one should, he has but to call to mind the religious opinions of the
king and his brother, and the projects which the duke was then well
known to entertain for the restoration of the pope's supremacy in
England and Ireland.

The earl's departure was obstructed by a fit of the gout. In his
anxiety to travel, he employed some quack, who drove the disorder
into some vital part; and his lordship died in January, 1684. He was
interred in Westminster Abbey.

The poetry of the earl of Roscommon is no longer known. He
seems, however, to have been the first who conceived any idea of tliat
correct versification, and that precise and neatly turned line which was

688 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

brought afterwards to a state of perfection by Pope and his followers.
As Johnson has justly said, "He is elegant, but not great; he never
labours after exquisite beauties ; and he seldom falls into gross faults.
His versification is smooth, but rarely vigorous ; and his rhymes are
remarkably exact. He improved taste, if he did not enlarge know-
ledge, and may be remembered among the benefactors to English
literature." He is also said, by the same great authority, to have
been "the only correct writer of verse before Addison;" and cites a
couplet from Pope, which pays him the higher tribute of having been
the only moral writer in the licentious court of Charles. His great
work was a Metrical Essay on Translated Verse. He also translated
the Arte Poetica, from Horace. His translation of Dies Irse is among
the happiest attempts which have been made upon that untranslatable
hymn. Many of his lesser productions have been mentioned with
applause.

HENRY DODWELL.

BORN A.D. 1642. DIED A.D. 1711.

Henry Dodwell was born in Dublin in 1G42. His father, who
had been in the army, possessed some property in Ireland, but having
lost it in the rebellion, he brought over his family to England, and
settled in York in 1648. Young Dodwell was sent to the York Free
School, where he remained five years. In the meantime both Ins father
and mother had died, and he was reduced to great distress from the want
of all pecuniary means, till, in 1654, he was taken under the protection
of a brother of his mother, at whose expense he was sent, in 1656, to
Trinity College. Dublin. There he eventually obtained a fellowship,
which, however, he relinquished in 1666, owing to some conscientious
scruples against taking holy orders. In 1672, on his return to Ireland,
after having resided some years at Oxford, he made his first appearance
us an author by a learned preface, with which he introduced to the
public a theological tract of the late Dr. Hearn, who had been his
college tutor. It was entitled " De obsidatione," and published at
Dublin. Dodwell's next publication was a volume entitled " Two
Letters of Advice — 1. For the supception of Holy Orders; 2. For
Studies Theological, especially such as are Rational." It appeared in
a second edition in 1681, accompanied with a " Discourse of the Phoeni-
cian Theology of Sanconeathon," the fragments -of which, found in
Porphyry and Eusebius, he contends to be spurious. Meanwhile, in
1674, Dodwell had settled in London, and from this time till his death
he led a life of busy authorship. Many of his publications were on the
Popish and Nonconformist controversies ; they have the reputation ot
showing, like everything else he wrote, extensive and minute learning,
and great skill in the application of his scholarship, but little judgment
of a larger kind. Few, if any, of the champions of the Church ot

SIR WILLIAM BROUNKER, VISCOUNT CASTLELYONS. 689

England have showed the pretensions of that Establishment so far as
Dodwell seems to have done; but his whole life attests the perfect
conscientiousness and disregard of personal consequences under which
he wrote and acted. In 1688 he was elected Camden Professor of
Theology in the University of Oxford, but he was deprived of his office
after he had held it about five years, for refusing to take the oath of
allegiance to William and Mary. He then retired to the village of
Cobham, in Berkshire, and soon after to Shottesbrook, in the same
neighbourhood, where he spent the rest of his days. He possessed, it
appears, an estate in Ireland, but he allowed a relation to enjoy the
principal part of the rent, only receiving such a moderate maintenance
for himself as sufficed for his simple and inexpensive habits of life. It
is said, however, that his relation at length began to grumble at the
subtraction even of this pittance, and on that Dodwell resumed his
property and married. He took this step in 1694, in his fifty-third
year, and he lived to see himself the father of ten children. The works
for which he is now chiefly remembered were also all produced in the
latter part of his life.

SIR WILLIAM BROUNKER, VISCOUNT CASTLELYONS.

BORN A.D. 1620. DIED A.D. 1684.

This eminent mathematician should have appeared at a somewhat
earlier period of our labours. The particulars of his life, on record,
are few. He was born in 1620 — of his education we can only ascer-
tain that it was irregular, but that, following the bent of his genius,
he applied himself with zeal to mathematical science, and early ob-
tained a high reputation among the most eminent philosophers of his
day. On the incorporation of the Royal Society, he was elected pro
tempore, the first president, and continued, by successive election, to
fill this exalted station for fifteen years. During this period he con-
tributed some important papers to the Transactions. To him is due
the honour of the first idea of continued fractions. He also first
solved some ingenious problems in the Indeterminate Analysis. Among
his papers, in the " Transactions," the most remarkable are "Experi-
ments concerning the recoiling of Guns; and a series for the quadra-
ture of the Hyperbola."

He was appointed chancellor to the queen, and keeper of her seal —
was one of the commissioners for executing the duties of lord high
admiral. In 1681, he obtained the mastership of St Katherine's
Hospital, near the Tower. He died at his house, in St James' Street,
April 5, 1684, and was buried in a vault which he had built for him-
self in the choir of the hospital.

II. 2 x lr.

690 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

WILLIAM MOLYNEUX.

BOEN A.D. 165G — DIED A.D. 1693.

William Molyneux was descended from a line distinguished by lite-
rary and scientific talent. His grandfather was Ulster king-at-arms,
and is mentioned by Sir James Ware with eulogy, as " venerandce
antiquitatis cullor." He wrote a continuation of Hanmer's Chronicle
of Ireland, which was not however published entire. His father,
Samuel, was Master Gunner of Ireland, and wrote a practical treatise
on Projectiles; he held a lucrative office also in the Court of Ex-
chequer, and was much respected by the better classes of society in
Dublin.

William was born in Dublin, April 17th, 1656. His health was
weak; and, as he grew up, he appeared to have so tender a frame, that
it was judged inexpedient to send him to a public school. A private
tutor was therefore retained, and he wras educated at his father's
house till his 15th year, when he entered the university of Dublin,
under the tuition of Mr Palliser, then a fellow, and afterwards Arch-
bishop of Cashel. In the university, he obtained all the distinction then
to be acquired by proficiency in the branches of learning then taught;
and, having taken his Bachelor's degree, he proceeded to London,
where he entered his name in the Middle Temple in 1675. At the
Temple he continued for three years in the diligent study of the law.
He did not, however, neglect his academic acquirements ; and the ma-
thematical and physical sciences, which were at that time begin-
ning to advance, and had received a mighty impulse from the discov-
eries of the day, and the labours of several members of the Royal So-
ciety, among whom Newton, then in the commencement of his illus-
trious career, so won upon his philosophical and inquiring temper,
that he was led to abandon his first selection of a profession, which,
however attractive to the intellectual taste, is yet unfavourable to sci-
entific pursuit. With this view, he returned to live in his native city
in 1678, and soon after married Miss Lucy Domville, daughter of Sir
William Domville, the attorney-general for Ireland. He quickly entered
upon a course of scientific inquiry ; and, feeling the strong attraction of
astronomy, in which the most important branches yet remained as
questions to exercise the ingenuity and anxious research of the ablest
heads in Europe, he devoted himself for a time to this attractive sci-
ence with the whole ardour of his mind. On this subject, in 1681, he
commenced a correspondence with Flamsted, which was kept up for
many years.

In 1683, he exerted himself for the establishment in Dublin of a
Philosophical Society, on the plan of the Royal Society, of which he
had witnessed the admirable effects in London. This society had been
created in 1645, by the influence and efforts of Wren, Wallis, and other

WILLIAM MOLYNEUX. 691

eminent men, and afterwards became a centre to the efforts of experi-
mental inquiry, to which the genius of Galileo had given an impulse,
and Bacon a direction; and which was in this period so largely ad-
vanced by our countryman Boyle, under whose name we shall have
to detail at length the history of this institution, and of those branches
of human knowledge, to the cultivation of which it was mainly
instrumental. To establish such an institution in Dublin, was to ad-
vance indeed a wide step upon the obscure domains of intellectual
night; nor, since the foundation of the university of Dublin, had there
been attempted a project which, if duly encouraged, would have been
so widely beneficial to Ireland. Such was the enlightened and patri-
otic design of Molyneux, who was zealously joined by Sir William
Petty and other eminent persons. Sir William Petty accepted the
office of president, and Molyneux himself that of secretary. This in-
stitution, which in Dublin may, perhaps, at that period, be considered
as premature, was not, in the strong collision of party, and the absorp-
tion of political passion, likely to be allowed a very distinguished or
enduring existence; yet it became, like all such laudable efforts, the
parent of others. It was productive of less doubtful benefit to the for-
tune of Molyneux, whose reputation it largely extended, and thus
became the means of his introduction to that great man, the patron of
every person or institution likely to promote the good of his country —
James the first duke of Ormonde. By this illustrious nobleman, then
lord-lieutenant of Ireland, Molyneux was, with Sir William Robinson,
appointed surveyor of the king's buildings and works, and chief en-
gineer.

In 1685, he had the honour of being elected a fellow of the Royal
Society, to the transactions of which he became largely a contributor:
many papers of his are to be found in the several volumes from the
fourteenth to the twenty-ninth. The same year he also obtained an
appointment to survey the fortresses on the Flemish coast, with a view
to perfect his knowledge of the art of engineering. He took occasion to
extend his travels through Holland and Germany; and, as he carried
letters from his friend Flamsted to Cassini and other distinguished
professors, he had the happiness to meet and converse with the most
distinguished astronomers in Europe.

From these incidents, it may be imagined that his earliest produc-
tions were likely to be decided by the prevailing taste of his mind and
character of his studies. On his return to Dublin, in 1686, he pub-
lished an account of a telescope dial invented by himself. This ac-
count was republished in London in 1700.

On the publication of Newton's " Principia," in the following year,
Molyneux received the sheets as they were printed, from Halley. He
expressed his admiration and astonishment at that wonderful produc-
tion of intellectual power, till then perhaps unequalled in the progress
of human knowledge. He at the same time confessed the difficulty
which, in common with many eminent mathematicians of that period,
he found in the perfect understanding of its contents.

The calm pursuits of philosophy were not likely to continue long in
the turbulent atmosphere of an Irish metropolis. The storms of civil
dissension, never long dormant, in 1688 began with fresh fury to dis-

.

692 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

turb the unquiet population, and agitate the timid and peaceful with
well-grounded terrors. The desolating series of events which We have
related under the head of Tyrconnel, set fully in, and continued until
terminated by a reaction still more deadly and fearful. The Philo-
sophical Society was thus dispersed, and its members mostly compelled
to escape from the fiery and terrible persecution which raged against
the protestants. Molyneux removed to Chester, where he occupied
himself in the composition of a work on Dioptrics, for which he had
been for some time collecting facts, and perhaps making experiments.
We have not seen this work, but think it most probably rather an at-
tempt to imbody, in a systematic form, the knowledge then existing,
than containing any addition of his own. Mathematical historians at
least make no mention of the labours of Mr Molyneux. The mention
of such works may therefore be regarded merely as indications of the
habits and intellectual character of the author. The skill and know-
ledge, however, thus exerted, must then have been very considerable, and
the publication of such a work must have been thought important, as
Flamsted gave his assistance in the arrangement of the matter, and
Halley revised the proofs, and, at the author's request, inserted a well-
known theorem of his own.*

During this residence at Chester, he had the affliction of losing his
wife, who died there, leaving- him one son. After the Revolution of
1689, he returned to Dublin, and was soon after elected member of
parliament for Dublin. In 1695, he was again elected for the uni-
versity, where he received the degree of Doctor of Laws. He con-
tinued to represent the same distinguished constituency, the first per-
haps existing in any representative government, during the rest of his
life ; a fact which might alone entitle him to the reputation of worth,
ability, and learning.

He was soon after nominated by the lord-lieutenant as one of the
commissioners for forfeited estates, with a salary of £500 a-year. But
the task was neither suited to his tastes nor feelings: he was indifferent
about money, and quickly resigned a laborious and highly invidious
and unpopular office.

But the event of his life which has conferred an historical interest
upon his name, and which forms our reason for bringing him forward
at this period of our writing', was the publication of his pamphlet,
published in 1698? and entitled, " The Case of Ireland, being bound
by acts of parliament in England, stated."f This essay was occa-
sioned by a discussion then in progress in the English parliament, to
prohibit the exportation of Irish woollen manufactures. It derives
much historical importance from the consideration, that it was the
beginning of a struggle for the independence of the Irish legislature,
renewed at several periods, and leading eventually to interesting con-
sequences.

The argument of Molyneux contains no main point on which we have

* Dr Halley invented a general algebraical theorem, to find the foci of optic
glasses ; but we believe the theorem adverted to here, is a geometrical construction
for finding the foci of rays diverging from, or converging to, a given point in the
;:sis of a spherical lens, under certain conditions.

f Title of the edition published in 1773.

WILLIAM MOLYNEUX. 603

not already Lad to express some opinion. With the inference of Mr
Molyneux we concur; but we take this occasion to express, and this
argument to illustrate our strong dislike to the mischievous fallacy
of that sort of political metaphysics to which he thinks it necessary to
resort, for the proof of a plain matter of fact. We freely admit, that
there are certain abstract principles involved in the history and gene-
ral facts of the social state, to investigate which would demand the
genius of a philosopher, and to apply them truly, the sagacity of a
statesman. But it is to the inverse method of a priori reasoning,
which begins by assumptions of states of society which never had ex-
istence, and first principles, which though they may be true in fact,
are, as assumptions, quite gratuitous, that we must object as the fertile
resources of the political sophist on every side of every question that
can be raised. In the perfection of the Eternal Mind, we freely grant
there may be certain immutable first principles, independent of the
constitution of things, from which, if once known, all truth might be
inferentially evolved ; but we deny the competence of the authority
by which a large class of writers have affirmed such principles, moral
or social, independently of positive laws. Human rights are never, in
fact, established in such assumptions, having in every real instance,
a twofold basis fully adequate to their support; those positive laws
and defined principles of right clearly promulgated in the express law
of God, together with that expediency which has essentially governed
social institutions: when we hear of original "rights," not derived
from these, we ask for the charter. But to proceed to our author: the
intent and principal heads of this argument may be best stated in his
own words. They are as follows: —

" First, How Ireland became a kingdom annexed to the crown of
England. And here we shall at large give a faithful narrative of the
first expedition of the Britons into this country, and king' Henry II.'s
arrival here, such as our best historians give us.

" Secondly, We shall inquire, whether this expedition, and the Eng-
lish settlement that afterwards followed thereon, can properly be called
a conquest? or whether any victories obtained by the English in any
succeeding ages in this kingdom, upon any rebellion, may be called
a conquest thereof ?

" Thirdly, Granting that it were a conquest, we shall inquire what
title a conquest gives.

" Fourthly, We shall inquire what concessions have been from time
to time made to Ireland, to take off what even the most rigorous as-
serters of a conqueror's title do pretend to. And herein we shall show
bv what degrees the English form of government, and the English
statute-laws, came to be received among us ; and this shall appear to
be wholly by the consent of the people and Parliament of Ireland.

" Fifthly, We shall inquire into the precedents and opinions of the
learned in the laws relating to this matter, with observations thereon.

" Sixthly, We shall consider the reasons and arguments that may be
farther offered on one side and t'other; and we shall draw some gen-
eral conclusions from the whole."

Before making any comment on the conduct of this argument by
Molyneux, it is necessary to prevent any mistake respecting our de-

(394 TRANSITION.— LTTERARY.

sign by anticipating an ulterior step, so far as to say, that in our
simple judgment, the first point— " how Ireland became a kingdom
annexed to the crown of England" — is, for the present view, of no im-
portance whatever. In the interpretation of a verbal document, it may
be most essentially necessary to discover the intent by such a refer-
ence to causes and previous acts : but we do not think that the method
by which any political power has been primitively derived, can affect
any question as to its extent, beyond the first consequent settlement
which defines and converts that power into a civil system of government,
to which all subsequent questions of right and authority must be re-
ferred. Until this takes place, the law of force prevails - a law which
involves no other; — so long as mere conquest is the power, unwilling
subjection to control is implied, and resistance a right. It is a ques-
tion of strength, and admits of the natural balance of action and reac-
tion ; but so soon as a settled order of civil government is fixed with
the consent of the conquered, (for without consent, they cannot refer
to the settlement for rights,) the rights and wrongs of conquests are
from that moment at an end. We shall quickly revert to this point.
But thus far we consider a necessary preface to the affirmation, that
we consider the argument altogether fallacious, by which Molyneux
attempts to prove the point that Ireland was not conquered.

Ireland became first subject to England, by that species of armed
occupation by which other nations have, in different periods of time,
changed their population and government. This occupation was at-
tended by all the ordinary circumstances of such invasions ; but limited
by the facts, that — 1st, The political situation of Henry II. compelled
him to proceed for a time by simply giving license to the military
spirit of his barons: 2d, By the cession of the native chiefs, which
necessarily terminated the progress of hostilities. These conditions,
so far as they go, are conquest to all intents; that part of the author's
definition which affirms that there must be resistance, is an unwar-
ranted assumption. The question then becomes, first, how far the com-
bined circumstances of force and cession went at the same time? Be-
yond this point — that is, if any still held out by force — the question
would arise, by what means or under what conditions they yielded?

Mr Molyneux states, and we see no reason to dissent from his state-
ment— " I doubt not but the barbarous people of Ireland at that time
were struck with fear and terror of king Henry's powerful force which
he brought with him ; hut still their easy and voluntary submissions
exempt them from the consequences of a hostile conquest, whatever they
are : where there is no opposition, such a conquest can take no place."

Now, in this paragraph, we must contend the entire essential part
of conquest by force, is actually admitted ; but of the words in italic
character, part is nugatory and part absurd. It involves the absurd
supposition, that a conquering expedition is like a cricket-match or a
boat-race, for the mere trial of strength, and without any design of
subjection or occupation. By yielding in time, bloodshed is averted;
but before any further consequence is said to be prevented, it may be
asked, in such case, what can be said to be yielded, and what is meant
by " voluntary submission?" Surely nothing at all, if not that which
the invader demands or is content to take. And this, whatever it

WILLIAM MOLYNEUX. 695

is, lias been yielded to superior force. It is the submission of fear
or conscious weakness, and can have no other source; for right is out
of the question, until it has been established either by force or con-
sent. We cannot see what additional right, bloodshed, and the
slaughter and spoliation so often an attendant circumstance of con-
quest, would have given.

In his discussion of this case, Molyneux refers to that of England;
it was ( as he aimed it) an ingenious application of the argurnentum
ad hominem. " I believe," he says, " the people of England would
take it very ill to be thought a conquered nation, in the sense that
some impose it on Ireland; and yet we find the same argument in the
one case as in the other, if the argument from the king's style of con-
questor prevail." Considering the strong intellect of Molyneux, the
comparison seems more like a jest than an argument. Unhappily for
the argument, it must be admitted that England was conquered by
William. Whether the manner or the immediate consequences be
regarded, it is impossible for a conquest to be more complete. The
country was invaded by a large force, and was taken possession of by
the invader; the native government was set aside, the natives sub-
jected, and the lands seized. The submission of the Saxons was al-
lowed, for obvious reasons, to take the appearance of a voluntary sub-
mission; but the contrary was understood on both sides. The battle
of Hastings was the conquest of England.

Turning from this nugatory question to the third and essential step
of Molyneux, viz.: — "what title a conquest gives," it offers no diffi-
culty. We have no objection to his conclusion, although we think it
complicated with some considerations not of much importance to the
argument; — as, for instance, the justice or injustice of the conquest,
which we must observe in passing, cannot have any practical effect
on the result, or be afterwards taken into account in any scale of right
below that which weighs the strength of nations in the field of battle.
Supposing a conquest to be made and completely terminated by the
formal (for no more is essential to the argument) submission of the
governing authorities and chief inhabitants, who have any power to
resist, the practical question is then, what title is thus conveyed to the
conqueror ; and how this title is bounded by other considerations of
right?

The title is nothing more or less than occupation by force. It would
be a waste of time and space to inquire by what law or what jurisdic-
tion such an occupation can be strictly declared illegal. It may, in
the first act, according to certain general principles of equity, derived
from the positive laws of God and man, be unjust, barbarous, and cruel,
but these rules have no direct application, beyond the first acquisition;
and the only jurisdiction which has any competency on the subject, i&
the opinion of civilized nations, which have, in our own civilized times,
admitted certain conventional rules of conduct, which constitute the
actual law of nations, and are, nevertheless, broken whenever it is found
expedient. This is indeed, to be deprecated and deplored ; but we must
not be misled, even by our sense of right. Such laws of opinion had
no existence in that primitive time, when, among other barbarous
characteristics, the law of force was the law of right all over the world.

69fi TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

To constitute a, law, there must be a sanction and a tribunal. But
we waste our words ; the right of all conquest is consent implied, the
submission of the conquered. This rule is more for their benefit and
protection tban for the advantage of the conqueror; for without this
saving condition, conquest would be compelled to proceed to extermina-
tion. Affirming, on these grounds, the full title of the conqueror, we
may quote Molyneux for the point.

" First. — 'Tis plain he gets by his conquest no power over those who
conquered with him; they that fought on his side, whether as private
soldiers or commanders, cannot suffer by the conquest, but must, at
least, be as much freemen as they were before. If any lost their free-
dom by the Norman conquest, (supposing king William I. had right
to invade England,) it was only the Saxons and Britons, and not the
Normans, that conquered with him. In like manner, supposing Henry
II. had a right to invade this island, and that he had been opposed
therein by the inhabitants, it was only the ancient race of the Irish
that could suffer by this subjugation; the English and Britons that
came over and conquered with him, retained all the freedoms and im-
munities of free-born subjects; they nor their descendants could not in
reason lose these for being successful and victorious ; for so the state
of both conquerors and conquered shall be equally slavish. Now, 'tis
manifest that the great body of the present people of Ireland are the
progeny of English and Britons, that from time to time have come
over into this kingdom, and there remains but a mere handful of the
ancient Irish at this day ; — I may say not one in a thousand ; so
that if I, or any body else, claim the like freedoms with the natural
born subjects of England, as being descended from them, it will be
impossible to prove the contrary. I conclude, therefore, that a just
conqueror gets no power, but only over those who have actually as-
sisted in that unjust force that is used against him.

" And as those that joined with the conqueror in a just invasion, have
lost no right by the conquest, so neither have those of the country who
opposed him not. This seems so reasonable at first proposal, that it
wants little proof. All that gives title in a just conquest, is the op-
posers using brutal force, and quitting the law of reason, and using the
law of violence, whereby the conqueror is entitled to use him as a
beast; that is, kill and enslave him." The argument of this paragraph
is, in our view, wholly inconsequent.

" Secondly Let us consider what that power is which a rightful

conqueror has over the subdued opposers, and this, we shall find, ex-
tends little farther than over their lives; for how far it extends to their
estates, and that it extends not at all to deprive their posterity of the
freedoms and immunities to which all mankind have a right, I shall
show presently. That the just conqueror has an absolute power over
the lives and liberties of the conquered, appears from hence, — because
the conquered, by putting themselves in a state of war, by using an
unjust force, have thereby forfeited their lives. For, quitting reason,
(which is the rule between man and man,) and using force, (which is
the way of beasts,) they become liable to be destroyed by him against
whom they use force, as any savage wild beast that is dangerous to his
being.

" And this Is the case of rebels in a settled commonwealth, who for-
feit their lives on this account; but as to forfeiting- their estates, it de-
pends on the municipal laws of the kingdom. But we are now inquir-
ing what the consequents will be between two contesting nations."

To the facts and main reasonings of this extract there seems little
to be objected; but it turns, in some measure, on a principle which is
too vague and elementary for the question really in his view, and is
encumbered with consequences of a more doubtful kind, which his ac-
tual intent did not require. The question can be put to a shorter
issue.

The right of conquest being merely the right of force, is determin-
ed by the immediate settlement which is consequently established,
and carries with it the implication of consent. The conqueror, who
must always be supposed to carry his conquest to the full extent that
his purpose requires, takes life and property, and institutes some kind
of government. All this is by the right of war as then understood :
he imposes subjection, and receives the pledge of allegiance. To this
point, power alone is his title, and the equity of his own breast, or
his respect for opinion, his rule. From this point, the character of a
conqueror, with all its rights, absolutely cease ; his title is the settle-
ment ; his power the constitution of government, settled and received.
The only question about his power is, what is the law? not how he
obtained it.

We grant that such a question may at any time be raised by a
nation; but it never can be decided, unless on the original terms: it is
a question for arms alone to decide. Thus, though we arrive at the
same conclusion with our author, we must object to some of his as-
sumptions, which vitiate an important argument. Perhaps the reader
may consider it trifling to quarrel with an argument in the intent of
which we concur; but the manner of reasoning is not so indifferent:
there is danger in the admission of a fallacy, which seems to open
questions that have no existence in fact. It is neither just nor safe to
say, that any question of right, in after times, can depend on an event
of six centuries back. Such a mode of inquiry goes to the origin of
rights, and necessarily arrives at some source of violence or usurpa-
tion. It is a mistake in principle, and, when carried far enough, is
opposed to all rights whatever. And this it is which makes prescrip-
tion the very foundation of human rights.

Nor does Molyneux stop until he allows his argument to carry hiai
beyond the limits of discretion as well as reason. But we will not
further detain the reader with disquisitions upon slight misapplications
of principle, which no discriminating reader can fail to detect. Mr
Molyneux having admitted the practice of the world to be different
from his theory, next concedes the point for argument, and with more
justice and force of reasoning, takes the ground already stated, of
" concessions granted by " the conqueror.

From this he proceeds to an inquiry, for the purpose of showing
" what concessions and grants have been made from time to time to
the people of Ireland, and by what steps the laws of England came to
be introduced into this kingdom." The steps of his argument from
this become disentangled from the fallacies of his philosophy, and he

states perspicuously and fairly, the several authoritative declarations,
or grants and concessions, by which the kings of Eng-land, commenc-
ing with Henry II., established and authorized the parliaments in Ire-
land. These have been sufficiently detailed in the course of these me-
moirs, and demand no present comment. Mr Molyneux pursues his
argument to show the uniform independence of Ireland as a distinct
and separate kingdom, upon authorities which we consider to be fully
sufficient for such an inference, but familiar to the reader. He proves
the fact up to the demise of Richard I., when the kingdom was abso-
lutely vested in prince John, who then succeeding to the English
crown, the question arises, whether England could have then, or from
that period, obtained any dominion over Ireland? As it is evident
that there can be no ground in theory why one of the two islands
should obtain such authority rather than the other, it remained to
inquire whether there existed any ground in fact, or in the nature of
positive institution. To set this in a very strong point of view, Mr
Molyneux cites various charters and declarations of right, in which it
is quite apparent, that at the several times of their execution or de-
claration, Ireland was separate by the admission of the English go-
vernment. Some apparent exceptions occur, of which he easily dis-
poses, and which hardly amount to fair ground for exception. The
language of the English parliament occasionally seems to imply a juris-
diction, or a power to bind Ireland; but the cases are either proofs of
a disposition to usurp that right at the several times of their occur-
rence, or are to be construed as simply declaratory of the sense of enact-
ments which had become law in Ireland by the adoption of the Irish
legislature: something, too, we imagine, should be allowed for pure
inadvertence. From a variety of instances, he makes it manifest, that
such laws as were passed in England with the design of comprising
both kingdoms, were uniformly transmitted to Ireland, to be passed
into law by the Irish parliament; and indeed the history of Poyning's
law, with the various controversies of which it was to the latest times
the subject, make that question clear enough. It would, with such a
cumbrous system of legislative machinery as is evidenced by the entire
parliamentary history of this island, be inconsistent and gratui-
tous to assume a superfluous, inoperative, and occasional capacity
of legislation in the English Parliament. The three express cases,
which had been commonly cited by lawyers to maintain the ad-
verse view, are clearly replied to by Mr Molyneux;* but there is a
class of cases to which he adverts, which we shall more particularly
point out, as curious for the evidence they give of the absence of any
very precise or systematic principle in the ancient boundaries and
limitations of the several jurisdictions and authorities under discussion.
" There have," says Molyneux, "been other statutes or ordinances
made in England for Ireland, which may reasonably be of force here,

* These cases, as cited by Molyneux, are: — 1. Statutum Hiberniae, 14 Hen. III.
2. Ordinatio pro statu Hiberniae, 17 Ed. I. 3. The Act that all staple commodi-
ties passing out of England or Ireland shall be carried to Calais as long as the staple
is at Calais, 2 Hen. VI. c. 4.

because they were made and assented to by our own representatives.
Thus we find in the white-book of the Exchequer in Dublin, in the
9th year of Edward I., a writ sent to his chancellor of Ireland, wherein
he mentions: ' Qucedam statuta per nos de assensu prelatorum comi-
tum baronum et cornmunitatis regni nostrce Hibernice, nuper apud
Lincoln et qwedam alia statuta postmodum apud Eboracum facta'
These, it may be supposed, were either statutes made at the request of
the states of Ireland, to explain to them the common law of England,
or, if they were introductive of new laws; yet they might well be of
force in Ireland, being enacted by the assent of our own representa-
tives, the lords spiritual and temporal and the commons of Ireland;
and, indeed, these are instances so far from making against our claim,
that I think nothing can be more plainly for us; for it manifestly
shows that the king and Parliament of England would not enact laws
to hind Ireland without the concurrence of the representatives of this
kingdom."

" Formerly," he continues, " when Ireland was but thinly peopled,
and the English laws not fully current in all parts of the kingdom,
'tis probable that then they could not frequently assemble with conve-
nience or safety to make laws in their own parliament at home ; and,
therefore, during the heats of rebellions, or confusion of the times,
they were forced to enact laws in England. But then this was always
by proper representatives; for we find that, in the reign of Edward
III., (and by what foregoes, 'tis plain that 'twas so in Edward I.'s
time,) knights of the shires, citizens, and burgesses, were elected in
the shires, cities, and burroughs of Ireland, to serve in Parliament in
England, and have so served accordingly. For amongst the records of
the Tower of London, Rot. 1, clause 50, Edw. III. par. 2, mem. 23,
we find a writ from the king at Westminster, directed to James But-
ler, lord-justice of Ireland, and to R. archbishop of Dublin, his chan-
cellor, requiring them to issue writs under the great seal of Ireland,
to the several counties, cities, and burroughs, for satisfying the ex-
penses of the men of that land who came over to serve in parliament
in England. And in another roll, the 50th of Edw. III., mem. 1 9? on
complaint to the king by John Draper, who was chosen burges of
Cork, by writ, and served in the Parliament of England, and yet was
denied his expenses by some of the citizens; care was taken to reim-
burse him.

"If, from these last-mentioned records, it be concluded that the par-
liament of England may bind Ireland, it must also be allowed that the
people of Ireland ought to have their representatives in the parlia-
ment of England ; and this, I believe, we should be willing enough to
embrace ; but this is a happiness we can hardly hope for."

Having thus disposed of the ancient precedents, Mr Molyneux ob-
serves of the more recent, "that they involve the very question under
discussion, being the very grievances complained of as unwarranted in-
novation." He nevertheless proceeds to inquire into their history and
force as precedents.

Having, in the previous argument, established the conclusion, that
before 1 64 1 there was " no statute made in England, introductory of

700 TRANSITION. -LITERARY.

a new law, that interfered with the right which the people of Ireland
have to make laws for themselves," he admits that in 1641, and after,
some laws were " made in England to be of force in Ireland."

Of these he shows in some detail, that they were liable in most in-
stances to some qualifying consideration, by means of which the pre-
cedent would be destroyed. They were repealed by the Irish Parlia-
ment, which, in such case, would show that they did not bind the Irish
legislature, or they were made in times of such flagrant confusion and
disorganization of Ireland, as to be justified by the necessity of the
times; a point which involves a primary principle, which Moly-
neux does not appear to have contemplated;* or they were virtually
English laws which had a secondary effect on Irish trade with or
throug-h England, but further had no force in Ireland. The Acts of
Charles II., namely, the Navigation Act, and two prohibiting the ex-
portation of Irish wool, he admits to be exceptions to his argument,
but denies that they are rightful enactments.

Mr Molyneux next and last arrives at his own time. In the re-
mainder of the discussion, there is little on which we have not had oc-
casion to dilate.

Mr Molyneux cites several instances of acts in the reign of Wil-
liam III., of the English parliament comprehending Ireland in their
provisions, and which met with unquestioning obedience. On the
question, how far such instances might be regarded as precedent, in-
volving a right, he meets the several cases with arguments mostly the
same as those already adverted to in the more ancient instances.
Either the necessity arising from the state of the kingdom, or the
implied consent of Irish representations, or the consent, sub silentio,
of the Irish legislature, to laws enacted seasonably in England for the
evident benefit of Ireland. On these cases we may also repeat our ob-
servation, that in a state of the kingdom uniformly marked by the
want of systematic precision in the definition of its legislative and
executive departments, and of which the civil organization was so in-
complete and immature, precedents must be viewed as of little or no
authority. The authority of precedent involves the principle of a
certain system of laws and authorities, of which they are assumed to
be the true result in certain contingencies: without this a precedent is
itself no better than an accident. The whole history of Ireland is,
from the very beginning to the date of this memoir, a succession of
irregular processes and workings. There was, properly speaking, no
theory: the question always should have been simply, what was the ex-
isting law — what were the rights of the kingdom by concession, treaty,
or authoritative declaration of an acknowledged power in the state?
On this general principle, we agree with Mr Molyneux, that such
cases do not in any way involve a right; and the more so, as a great
and overwhelming preponderance of cases can be brought to confirm
the ordinary recognition of an opposite right. So far as there was

* The political necessity thus admitted, appears to reopen the entire question,
and place it on other grounds; such, indeed, as to make the entire of the preceding
argument a mere exercise in special pleading. Such a necessity might be estab-
lished from the conquest to the union.

a constitutional system, it excluded the right of the English parliament
to legislate for Ireland.

The same conclusion may be made with regard to any inferences
from certain analogous questions, which he entertains, so far as they
can be admitted to have any bearing on the question. It is inferred by
Molyneux, that Coke's opinion that an English act of parliament should
be held binding in Ireland, was derived from his notion of the subor-
dination of the king's bench in Ireland, to that in England; and this
subordination seemed to be apparent, from the fact of a writ of error
lying from the former to the latter. The practice is admitted, and
its origin inquired into by Molyneux. He first notices the opinion of
many Irish lawyers of his time, that these writs originated in an
express act of the Irish parliament, " lost amongst a great many other
acts which we want, for the space of 130 years at one time, and of
120 at another time;'' to which he adds, " but it being only a gene-
ral tradition, that there was such an act of our parliament, we only
offer it as a surmise, the statute itself does not appear." Secondly,
" When," says Mr Molyneux, " a judgment in Ireland is removed, to
be reversed in England, the judges in England ought, and always do,
judge according to the laws and customs of Ireland, and not accord-
ing to the laws and customs of England, any otherwise than they may
be of force in Ireland." Now, this is surely in itself conclusive; be-
cause it contains a direct exclusion of the right of the English par-
liament. The fact of a judgment being reversed, on the ground of
English law, as such, would, it must be admitted, be a direct affirma-
tion of the binding power of the English legislature. This important
rule Molyneux confirms, by proper citations of cases, and concludes
that the "jurisdiction of the king's bench in England, over a judg-
ment of the king's bench in Ireland, does not proceed from any
subordination of one kingdom to the other, but from some other rea-
son." This reason he conjectures, and his conjecture is curious and

interesting.

The want of skill in the interpretation of English laws, which had been
largely adopted in Ireland, rendered the assistance of the English judges
necessary from time to time, and " occasional messages to England, be-
fore judgment given in Ireland, to be performed of the law." The effect
of such a custom would be obviously to lead the still more anxious refer-
ence of the litigants to the same source of authority, as well as afford a
strong and warrantable ground to the losing party to question the sound-
ness of the decision of an Irish judge. Accordingly, Mr Molyneux goes
on to state that, " after decrees made, persons who thought themselves
aggrieved by erroneous judgments applied themselves to the king of
England for redress." And " thus," says Molyneux, " it must be, that
writs of error (unless they had their sanction in parliament) became
in use." The process is at least natural, and more likely than any
other depending on conjecture. The objection to this, drawn from the
previous conclusion, that the judgment was finally according to Irish,
and not English law, is nugatory, for it admits the point in question;
but it is enough to recollect that the common law of England was,
with slight exceptions and modifications, law in Ireland, by various
charters of ancient kings, as well as enactments of the Irish parlia-

702 TRANSITION.— LITUKARY.

ments. On this question Mr Molyneux also draws an argument, from
the fact that in writs of error suit is made to the king only. We need
not dilate on so obvious a point.

We may observe here, that in this inference from writs of error,
two distinct arguments are involved; — first, the analogy whereby the
subordination of the parliament is inferred from that of the court.
This is clearly replied to by the affirmation that the appeal lies to the
king. The other is, that the authority of the English court must
needs involve that of the enactments of the English legislature, and is
met by the reply, that the judgment was still according to Irish law,
while the practice is accounted for by the fact, that numerous English
laws had been at several times made law in Ireland, with the consent,
or by the will of the Irish legislature.

Mr Molyneux concludes his argument by replying to several mis-
cellaneous objections: into these it is unnecessary to proceed. Some of
them are but repetitions of points already noticed; some are frivolous;
some merely resting on, and resisted by, the absurdities of old poli-
tical theories, as to the rights of nations or of mankind. We shall
merely enumerate them here. — England's title, on the consideration
of money spent in the reduction of the country; the right of England
to bind by force any country which may injure its trade; the fact that
Ireland is a colony from England. Such are the remaining objec-
tions; which contain no force, and admit, therefore, little reply. We
shall only remark, that Mr Molyneux finally opposes to the doctrine
of legislative dependence, the strict provisions of Poyning's act, which
would be a " needless caution, if the king and parliament of England
had power at any time to revoke or annul such proceedings."

In 1782, this subject was renewed in a spirited debate in the Irish
house of commons — a debate in which Grattan, Flood, Langrishe, and
other eminent Irishmen, whose names are yet on the tongues of living
men, bore a remarkable part. We shall have, therefore, to look again
on the subject, and, as well as we can, recall the circumstances in a
more interesting aspect. Mr Molyneux was actuated by a pure senti-
ment of patriotism, and we believe his true feelings on the occasion
are justly expressed in his preface, in which he tells the reader " how
uncoucerned I am in any of those particular inducements, which might
seem at this juncture to have occasioned the following discourse."
" I have not any concern in wool or the wool trade. I am no ways
interested in the forfeitures or grants. I am not at all solicitous whether
the bishop or the society of Derry recover the land they contest
about."

The pamphlet excited a vast sensation on its appearance. The
English house of commons was infuriated by an argument which
seemed to be an attack on their authority, and in their inconsiderate
heat passed a resolution, " that the book published by Mr Molyneux
was of dangerous tendency to the crown and people of England, by
denying the authority of the king and parliament of England to bind
the kingdom and people of Ireland, and the subordination and depend-
ence that Ireland had, and ought to have, upon England, as being
united and annexed to the imperial crown of England." They pre-
sented an address to king William, who felt himself compelled to give

WILLIAM MOLYNEUX. 703

way to the impulse of the moment, and promise to enforce the lawg
which bound the Irish parliament. But the animosity of their excite-
ment is more clearly indicated by the fact, that they ordered the
offending pamphlet to be burned by the hangman.

That such proceedings were not altogether a surprise to the author,
may be collected from a paragraph in his first preface, in which he
writes, " I have heard it said, that perhaps I might run some hazard
in attempting the argument; but I am not at all apprehensive of any
such danger. We are in a miserable condition, indeed, if we may not
be allowed to complain when we think we are hurt," &c.

The pamphlet received several replies, and was generally received
with a strong sensation of favour or hostility by the Irish public. It
was at the time not quite unseasonable. The violent effects of a long
and destructive revolution had left a collapse upon the public mind,
which in Ireland has often been the effect of over excitement, so that
the calm was as likely to prove fatal as the storm. Insubordination
is the precursor and parent of servility ; and the sentiments of terror,
and vindictive memory of suffering and wrongs, too naturally subside
into the disposition to find safety and revenge in oppression.

There was a strong friendship between Molyneux and Locke, in
whose essay on the human understanding his name has the honour to
be mentioned as " that very ingenious and studious promoter of real
knowledge," in a manner which shows the high and intimate corre-
spondence on questions then of the utmost literary interest, which
existed between him and that great and truly illustrious philosopher.
The problem there mentioned as coming from Molyneux, is necessa-
rily trite to every academical reader ; but as our circle comprehends a
larger compass, we shall extract it here, as giving a higher notion of
intellectual power than can be conveyed on any political topic.
The design of Mr Locke is to explain and illustrate his proposition,
that the ideas of sensation are often changed by the judgment; or, in
other words, that a large class of ideas, which are supposed to be pure
sensations, are by habit compounded from our knowledge of the re-
ality of things, and our sensations. The following is the illustration : — ■
" Suppose a man born blind, and now adult, and taught by his touch
to distinguish between a cube and a sphere of the same metal, and
nighly of the same bigness, so as to tell when he felt the one and the
other, which is the cube and which is the sphere. Suppose, then, the
cube and sphere placed on a table, and the blind man to be made to
see. Query, whether by his sight before he touched them, he could
now distinguish and tell which is the globe, which the cube?" To
which the acute and judicious proposer answers, — " Not; for though
he has obtained the experience of how a globe, how a cube affects his
touch, yet he has not yet attained the experience, that that which affects
his touch so or so, must affect his sight so or so; or that a protube-
rant angle in the cube that pressed his hand unequally, shall appear
to his eye as it does in the cube." " I agree," continues Locke,
" with this thinking gentleman, whom I am proud to call my friend,
in his answer to this, his problem."* This problem involves the entire

* Locke's Essay, b. 1 1 , c. 9, $ 8.

704 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

theory of the chapter in which it occurs, and if there had been no
previous communication on the subject, indicates an uncommon range
of accurate thought. There appears to have indeed been a remarkable
similarity of intellectual constitution between Molyneux and his illus-
trious friend. A fact, less to the honour of both, displays a striking
coincidence. Speaking of Blackmore's poetry, in a letter to Locke,
Molyneux writes, " All our English poets, except Milton, have been
ballad-makers to him." To which Locke replies, " I find, with plea-
sure, a strange harmony throughout, between your thoughts and mine."
As was then usual in the world of letters, this correspondence ori-
ginated and continued long without any meeting having taken place.
On the occasion of his celebrated pamphlet, Molyneux expressed a
great anxiety to meet and consult with Locke. He crossed over to
England in the year 1698, and remained some months, when he had
the happiness of becoming personally intimate with his honoured cor-
respondent. On his departure, another meeting was concerted for the
following spring. But his health was frail, and his constitution broken
by one of the most terrible diseases to which the human frame is liable.
Soon after his return, a fit of the stone led to the eruption of a blood-
vessel, of which he died in two days, October 11th, 1698. His inter-
ment took place in St Andrew's church, where there is a monument
and Latin inscription.

SIR RICHARD COX.

BORN A. D. 1650— DIED A. D. 1733.

Sift Richard Cox is one of the few eminent persons belonging to
the period before us, whose rise in the state was independent of the
fortune of wars and revolutions, or the accidents of birth. He was a
man whose high moral and intellectual endowments, would in any age,
under circumstances not peculiarly unfavourable, have attained the
highest civil distinctions. He was born in Bandon, in the year 1650.
His father was a captain of horse, and died while his son was yet but
three years old ; he was, in consequence, transferred to the care of his
maternal grandfather. This gentleman having also died in a few
years, the charge appears to have devolved to his son, Mr. John Bird,
of Clonakilty. By his care, young Cox received the first rudiments of
education, at a grammar-school in Clonakilty. His taste for the prac-
tice of the law was developed, perhaps, by the accident of his uncle
holding the office of Seneschal in the manorial courts, under the ap-
pointment of one of the Boyle family. In this obscure court, young
Cox began to practise as an attorney, in his eighteenth year ; and, as a
matter of course, his practice soon extended to the other court of ses-
sion held by the civil authorities of that old borough, from which,
until the Union, the earls of Shannon returned two members to par-
liament. The practice of these minor courts was (and is) such as to
demand no very extended acquaintance with the law, and in the narrow
range of cases which fell under their jurisdiction, a considerable dis-
cretion was assumed or vested in the officers. In these courts the line

SIR RICHARD COX. 705

of demarcation between the practice of the attorney and the advocate
was but indistinct ; and here, in the advocacy of such petty cases as
demanded little more than a shrewd common sense, and a ready tono-ue,
and the knowledge of the rules and equities of the petty dealings of a
little obscure seaport, the forensic propensities of this eminent lawyer
were developed and confirmed; though, we may presume, little in-
structed.

Such a range could not long continue to confine the ambition of a
mind so alert and industrious. Finding his means sufficient, Cox en-
tered his name, in 1661, as a law student, in Gray's Inn. Here his
superior intelligence soon raised him into notice ; and having complet-
ed his terms, and the course of legal attainment then considered neces-
sary, he returned to his native country, and soon after contracted a
marriage with a lady, who had, or was reputed to have, rights to a
large property. For a young legal aspirant, a lawsuit seems to have
been no inappropriate fortune; but he was destined to be less fortu-
nate as a suitor than as a servant of the law, and failed in making
good the claims of his wife. The circumstance appears to have given
for some years an unfavourable turn to his views in life: his spirits
may have been depressed by feeling himself hopelessly involved in a
poor connexion, at a period of life which most demands the exertion
of free and unencumbered powers. It is still more likely that his
funds were exhausted, and that residence in town was become no
longer practicable. He returned to Clonakilty, where he took a farm,
and sunk gradually into that kind of indolence of pursuit, to which
persons of intellectual temper are most liable, when deprived of their
congenial and proper excitement in the atmosphere of ambition or
studious conversation.

But while his talents lay unemployed, and the native impulses of his
mind stood still, the progress of time was marked by the increase of
his family. His lady, whose promise of wealth had dissolved into an
unsubstantial disappointment, was fortunate in the production of a
numerous gradation of youthful mouths, which demanded to be fed;
and Richard Cox was roused from the quiet ease of his farm, to the
anxious consideration of the ways and means of life.

By the kindness of Sir Robert Southwell, he was quickly restored
to the high road of advancement. In 1685, being then in his thirtieth
year, he was elected recorder of Kinsale, and removed with his young
family to Cork, where he entered at once on the practice of his pro-
fession, with rapid and honourable success.

His professional progress was destined to be retarded by interrup-
tions, which were afterwards in no small degree instrumental to his
rise. He had attained considerable practice, when his natural sa-
gacity enabled him to perceive the approach of that reverse to the
protestant interests in Ireland, which we have already so fully traced
in a former memoir. The succession of James II. to the throne was
the commencement of a strenuous effort to restore the supremacy of
the two kingdoms to the Pope; and though the settled principles, and
advanced political maturity of England, made it necessary to proceed
with a cautious and underhand progress ; in Ireland, where very oppo-
site conditions prevailed, the real intentions of the court were not to

li. 2 r Ir.

be overlooked by any person of ordinary observation. In Ireland, tbe
mass of the aristocracyr as well as of the commercial interests, were
protestant, and the civil authorities and legal constitution had that con-
formity which such a predominance of interest demanded in that age.
But the peasantry were of the communion of the church of Rome ; and
they had now, since the days of James I., been governed by their priest-
hood— a body of men against whom it is no accusation to say, that their
whole political morality was- then centred in an earnest and conscien-
tious principle of devotion to the Roman See. To this statement is to
be added, that there was a large intermixture of persons and families of
broken fortune, from varied causes, who were of the popular persua-
sion, and who had never relinquished the prospect of a reinstatement
in possessions, which justice, the fortune of war, or the vicissitudes of
foi-tune, and the advance of commercial wealth, had long transferred into
other hands. With such elements smouldering under the recollec-
tions of 1641, and though hidden by the ashes of a generation scarcely
extinct, it needed no deep insight to perceive what was to be the effect
of a new struggle, in which these elements of wreck and ruin were to
be blown by the breath of royal power and influence. To calculate on
the same reaction in favour of right and justice, was not beyond the
compass of reason; but far too unsatisfactory and uncertain for the
fears of the boldest, who, like Cox, looked practically on the course of
events. He relinquished his advantages, and sacrificing a present in-
come of £300 a-year, removed for security with his family to Bristol.

He lrad, however, by that time, fortunately attained considerable re-
putation as a sound lawyer and able advocate, and being well known,
he was not long destitute of business, but contrived to obtain an income
competent to the support of his family, which consisted of a wife and
five children. It was during this interval that he compiled the greater
part of his known historical work, entitled "Hibernia Anglicana," often
referred to in these memoirs.

Thus engaged, Cox continued at Bristol till the landing of the prince
of Orange in England. On this event, while all was yet doubt, em-
barrassment, and the confused clamour of party, he hastened to London,
and took a decided, and, we believe, not ineffectual part, in favour of
the revolution. He published a pamphlet, in which he insisted on the
necessity of giving tbe crown to William, and of sending relief to
Ireland. His merits were at once recognised, or his patrons were at
least efficient in recommending them. He was made under-secretary
of state; and soon after accompanied Sir Robert Southwell, as secre-
tary, to Ireland. His eminent sagacity, and extensive acquirements,
here became so conspicuous, that he rose in the royal regard with
rapidity; and when Waterford was surrendered, he was at once ap-
pointed recorder to that city. This was but a step to further eleva-
tion ; and few months elapsed when he was raised to the bench, as one
of the justices of the common pleas, on the 13th of September, 1690.

At this period of our history, the several functions of administration
had not yet received the separate and ascertained character which
belongs to mature forms and states of government. There was a ne-
cessary indistinctness in the limits of the different departments ; the
restrictions of civil form and professional privilege were comparatively

slight. The circumstance was at least favourable to talent: the person
whose skill, superior efficiency, knowledge, moral virtues, or perhaps
vices, raised him to rank or station, seldom failed to obtain employ-
ment, and to be raised to authority, in whatever department his incli-
nation prompted him to look for promotion, or his capability recom-
mended him. Cox, who in addition to considerable acquirements in
general and professional knowledge, possessed an active temper and
great practical sagacity, was thus prepared to catch to tbe utmost
every gale of favour and preferment. He had been hardly raised to a
position wbich would now be considered to demand the full devotion
of the entire available industry of the most competent lawyer, when
lie obtained a promotion of equal importance, which must have exacted
equal activity and confidence in a different department, having, in
about half a-year from the date of his judicial appointment, been made
military governor of Cork.

For this latter station Cox was eminently fitted; at least if regard
be had to the time. His firm temper of mind and sagacious under-
standing communicated to his entire conduct that decided and un-
bending line of duty which the condition of that province demanded ;
while a stern and high-minded integrity obtained for him the respect
of those who had any regard for such qualities, and ensured him the
cordial support of those who were the immediate witnesses of his
actions, and whose support was most needful. But, as inevitably must
happen, and always has happened, in the struggles of Ireland, — where
the inveteracy of party feeling renders men incapable of estimating human
actions on any general ground of obligation, — his conduct in this station
has been loudly arraigned for the extreme rigour which he was compelled
to have recourse to. Writers who have discussed the confused politics
of that period have too much suffered their understanding and temper
to be absorbed in its spirit, not only entering with an undue warmth
into the passions of the parties, but absolutely putting on their colours,
ranging under their banners, and seeing through the medium of their
prejudices. But after having witnessed the flagrant realities of the
long and calamitous struggle of the revolution, and seen the actual and
fearful effects of an universal relaxation of all the bonds of order, he
was too well taught, that tranquillity, general security, and the peace-
able progress of social improvement and civilization, were only to be
obtained by the powerful and summary suppression of turbulent spirits,
— only to be secured by the rough and stern hand of force. It is always
easy for those whose habits of mind have been warped by perpetual
advocacy, and who are engaged in the partial endeavour to justify and
palliate every act of the side they espouse, to persuade themselves to
such an extent, in favour of fallacies which are habitually diffused
throughout the very texture of their intellects; as to imagine, that
while the popular mind was in a state of unnatural excitement, their
leaders still alert to seize occasion, while the hope of returning confusion
made men ready to defy the law, and a generation trained to crime
and insubordination, was, like suppressed fire, ever starting at every
air-hole, — to imagine that they were to be held in peaceable and
orderly subjection by the calm and tempered routine of balanced equity
and justice. Popular excitement, never at any time grounded on the

708 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

dictates of political wisdom or justice, never was, or will be calmed by
the appeal to reason, or satisfied in any way but by an unreserved triumph ;
unless when reason and justice are fortunately sanctioned and enforced
by such means as alone can be felt or comprehended by untrained in-
tellects and undisciplined passions. But in that uncivilized genera-
tion, the salvation of the land depended entirely on a timely and vigor-
ous application of the only resource which their moral and intellectual
condition permitted to be even understood; and we therefore consider
it to the praise of Cox, that he availed himself effectually of those means.
During his government in the county of Cork, though the frontier of
his province extended eighty miles, with twenty garrisons under his
charge, he continued to preserve order, unknown elsewhere, and never
allowed the Jacobites to gain an inch of ground.

We may mention one instance of firmness and vigorous promp-
titude, which happened in this period of his life, the political history of
which we have sufficiently detailed. De Ginckle had written to go-
vernor Cox to request a thousand of the Cork militia, who, under his
superintendence, are said to have arrived at a very high state of mili-
tary discipline, though the fact does not appear from the following
anecdote. Of the required force all had already marched but 160
men, who positively refused to stir from their country. The colonel,
after a vain resort to every means of persuasion, repaired to Cox, who
declared that he would soon make them march. Surrounded by
a party of gentlemen and officers, he rode up to them, and in a com-
manding and firm tone, asked why they were not on their march. One
of them stood forth, and began to reply ; the governor interrupted and
addressed them in a few words, in which he asserted his power over
them; but added, that as he did not desire the company of cowards,
he would not use it; — he said, that he was sure there were among
them some who were not afraid to fight for a king and country they
loved, and that such would follow him ; the rest might return to their
homes." They all felt, and answered the appeal to their pride by im-
mediate submission to order.

His able and spirited discharge of duties, so apparently foreign
from his previous habits, obtained for Cox great and universal reputa-
tion. His commission and the scope of his government were con-
siderably enlarged; and he continued to display a degree of active
prudence, and decision of conduct, which effected the happiest results.
He not only received the thanks of the English government, for the
successful vigilance by which he preserved the public tranquillity in
Ireland, but also the warmest expressions of gratitude from the nume-
rous persons whose property he saved from devastation and pillage.
As the enlargement of his jurisdiction had been occasioned by the fear
of a French invasion, he was under the necessity of taking some pre-
cautions, which were, in the then state of Ireland, indispensably neces-
sary, but calculated to cast some unpopularity on his character: the
disarming the papists was, nevertheless, effected with a mild forbear-
ance, and a regard to circumstances, not often to be met in the history
of the country. He carried this harsh necessity into effect without
irritating those who were its object, or bringing them into suspicion;
and, using a sane and temperate discretion, he managed to limit the

SIR RICHARD COX. 709

measure to the real urgency of the supposed danger, and to avoid
leaving respectable persons, from whom nothing was to be really
apprehended, in a defenceless condition. The threat of invasion was,
however, soon dispelled, by the defeat of the French fleet at La Hogue,
in May.

In the same year, 1692, after having gone the summer circuit in
the southern districts, with judge Reynel, he returned to Dublin ;
where, on the 5th of November, he was knighted by the lord Sydney,
at that time lord-lieutenant of the kingdom.

In 1693, he was elected as a member of the Philosophical Society,
which, about ten years before, had been founded by the exertions of
the well known William Molyneux, who was then more known as a
philosopher than he has subsequently become as the author of a politi-
cal pamphlet, which is noticed in his life in the preceding pages. On
this occasion he read an essay containing his geographical account of
the counties of Derry and Antrim. In the same year he paid a visit
to England, where he met with cordial attention and favour from lord-
treasurer Grodolphin, and the other ministers of government. On this
occasion he obtained an order from the treasury for the abatement of
one-half of his quitrent. He was also appointed on the commission for
Irish forfeitures, with a salary of £900 a-year. This honourable testi-
mony to his talent, and the known high integrity of his character, had
the undesirable consequence of plunging him more immediately within
the vortex of cabal and factious clamour, which had been the distin-
guishing affliction of Ireland at all times, but never more conspicuously
than at that period.

In the meantime Cox was appointed on the commission for the
management of the forfeited lands. The strict equity with which he
resisted an oppressive partiality on one side, and the urgency of menace
and corruption on the other, soon drew upon him the clamorous accusa-
tions of those by whom the just forfeitures of the recent struggle were
looked on as a prey, and the no less dangerous resentment of the
leaders of popular feeling. It was no hard matter to raise a powerful
set against him, and when everything was decided by the movements
of intrigue, his displacement was a matter of course. One occasion is
honourably distinguished, in which an effort was made to seize on the
estates of several gentlemen of the county of Galway, in defiance of
the articles of the capitulation by which they were secured from
forfeiture. Cox insisted with equal truth and force on the manifest
injustice of such a violation of a solemn treaty, and to the great dis-
content of the jobbing pack which formed the executive government
in the eastle, he saved the Galway gentlemen from losing their estates
by an arbitrary order of council. Such an interference with the views
of the Irish administration was not to be endured, and he was presently
superseded, on the gratuitous pretext that the council might become a
court of judicature, by the presence of so many judges. They covered
their real design by dismissing at the same time another judge, whose
abilities were of little weight. But soon after an effort was made to
complete the manoeuvre to the destruction of Sir Richard Cox's credit
with the king, by a vote that the forfeitures in Ireland were mis-
managed. The effort failed, and only served to raise the reputation it

was designed to destroy. Sir Richard defended himself against a
formidable string of accusations, by statements so full, so well vouched,
and so forcibly put forward, that the vote was lost. And to make the
vindictive spirit of the whole proceeding more apparent, another method
of effecting their purpose was resorted to : the commission was objected
to on the ground of economy, which demanded a strict and parsimo-
nious management of the revenue, and the reduction of an expensive
establishment. In defence of the private policy by which the official
agency of the Irish council was at that time governed in the con-
duct of affairs, we have little to say. We have both in the course
of this memoir, and throughout this work, taken every occasion to
enforce the distinction to be drawn between the general policy of
government, or professed principles of public men or parties, and the
private motives by which individuals acting in a system necessarily
lax and insufficient in control, may have been led to pursue their
personal interests at the cost of their public trusts. Wo do believe
that the occasion of this commission afforded a far surer field for
corrupt gain or the iniquitous decisions of private favour or enmity,
than for the public advantage of the revenue. The very first origin
of the measure involved a most arbitrary and iniquitous usurpa-
tion on the part of the English Commons of a power to which
they had no claim. For the liquidation of the expenses of the
war, it was so wholly inadequate, that on a distinct return, which
was afterwards found to have overrated the value of the lands, it was
given up.

Sir Richard Cox availed himself of the leisure obtained from his
dismissal from a troublesome and invidious office to prosecute some
of those numeruus pursuits of study and research with which his
active mind was filled. An " Essay for the conversion of the
Irish" was among the chief results. He is also said to have com-
posed and presented a memorial upon the bill then pending in the
house of lords, to prohibit the exportation of Irish woollen manu-
factures.

In 1701, the lord chief justice of the common pleas died, and Sir
Richard was promoted to his place by the king, immediately after
which he obtained a seat in the privy council.

On the death of king William, he was summoned to England by
Lord Methuen to give his advice on Irish affairs, more especially with
a view to the measures to be proposed for the consideration of the
Irish parliament. The political views of Sir Richard were in most
respects enlightened by the union of great natural sagacity, with the
most extensive local and practical information. With respect to the
remoter effects, and more indirect influence of civil or economical
enactments or managements, he participated in the general obscurity
of his time. But he had clear views of the enormous disadvan-
tages, and obstacles to improvement and civil progress, then existing
in his country, — the barbarism of a large portion of the inhabi-
tants— the political tendency to an alien jurisdiction, consequent upon
a difference of churches — the obstacles and impediments to Irish trade,
originating in defective laws and commercial jealousies: with these
and such facts strongly impressed on his mind, the advice of Sir

SIR RICHARD COX. 711

Richard was just, as might be inferred from such knowledge, if re-
ferred to the existing state of human opinion, and prudent with regard
to the real wants and exigencies of the day. He presented an extensive
and clear view of the national resources, local and general ; he exposed the
political workings among the people and the leaders of popular opinion ;
the state of trade, with its advantages, and the difficulties to which it
was subject. It is also probable that he cautiously laid open the prac-
tice of official abuse, which then to a great extent neutralized the be-
neficent intentions of the government.

Several legislative measures, afterwards passed into law, may be
considered as the result of his counsel. Some of these exhibit the
fears and cautions which had their foundation in the events of the
previous reigns, and marked the entire policy of the day. The fears
of popery, as then connected with the claims of rival families to the
crown, are exemplified in an act " to prevent popish priests from com-
ing into the kingdom;" an act "to make it high treason in this king-
dom (Ireland) to impeach the succession to the crown, as limited by
several acts of parliament ;" an act " to prevent the further growth of
popery ;" an act " for registering the popish clergy ;" and several others
in the same spirit, of which one or two of the preambles will give the
most authentic view of the intent and spirit, as well as of the political
tendencies of the time. The first-mentioned act commences thus: —
" Whereas great numbers of popish bishops, deans, friars, Jesuits, and
other regulars of the popish clergy, do daily come into this kingdom
from France, Spain, and other foreign parts, under the disguise or
pretence of being popish secular priests, with intent to stir up her
majesty's popish subjects to rebellion." From this and another act,
" for registering the popish clergy," in the same year,* it seems that a
distinction was made between the regular and secular priesthood of
the church of Rome, the former of whom were viewed by the legisla-
ture as purely political in their design and agency, while the min-
istrations of the latter having only reference to the ecclesiastical and
spiritual interests of the Irish, were not further contemplated by the
second of these acts, than so far as was necessary to guard against the
other orders, which both in the early struggles of the country, and in
the recent and then yet existing machinations of the exiled family and
its adherents, were undoubtedly instrumental, in a high degree, to the
communications which they maintained with Ireland. This view is
confirmed by the language of an act in the following year, by which
the registering act is explained, and which evidently looks no further
than the danger of rebellion. It is, however, evident, that a sense of
such a nature in that age, when a disputed succession, turning mainly
on the religion of a large class of the Irish people, who had always ma-
nifested an unusual tendency to civil strife, at every call of every mover
or excitement, could not fail to awaken an intense spirit of suspicion
and jealousy, of which the papists themselves must needs have bpen
the direct objects. Nor, if the facts be directly regarded, was the
sense either unnatural or without its justification in the actual state of
the time, or in the records of the past. And here let it be recollected

* Ir. Statutes. An. Sec. Reg. Ann.

712 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

by our readers of that communion, that we have asserted the conditions
of the question to have been altered by time, and the changes of con
tinental politics; yet then the case was too plain even for the most
dexterous advocacy of modern times to gloss over, without the aid of
direct misstatement. Not only was there a strong and unsuppressed
devotion to the Pretender, and a sentiment of national animosity sedu-
lously fostered against the English and the protestants, but there was
also yet remaining a strong and ardent hope on the part of the de-
scendants of the ancient chiefs and toparchs of the land to regain their
old possessions and barbaric control. The Pope still possessed the
then expiring remains of that sway which in the middle ages was equi-
valent to the monarchy of the civilized world, and the regular clergy
were yet under the persuasion that Ireland, and indeed England, were
to be brought again within the pale of his jurisdiction. To effect these
objects, there was but one apparent course — rebellion, under whatever
name, or for whatever pretext it was promoted, among a population
ever prompt to rebel, and ever open to every persuasion, and credulous
of every pretext. Such was the state of facts ; a mass of illusions con-
sistent with the ignorance of the people, the iniquitous and turbulent
projects of their leaders, and the excusable but inadmissible policy of
the Romish church, constituted a case which must be regarded now
as entirely exempt from the common rules of political justice, which
do not contemplate such a state of things. Political freedom or equality
must presume an acquiescence in the fundamental principles of the
civil constitution; the maintenance of tenets, civil or ecclesiastical,
which have for their object the overthrow of either the state itself, or
of the existing rights of any class, or of the peace and order of the
whole, must unquestionably be placed under whatever degree of con-
straint may appear essential for the purpose of effectual control. To
this, we presume, no answer will be attempted; and we must confess,
the surprise with which we have sometimes contemplated the injudi-
cious and supererogatory efforts of modern popular writers and speakers
forcibly to bring the claims of the Irish papists of modern times under
the rang-e of arguments from fact and principle, which, however
they may be overlooked by a journalist or popular speaker, must ever
have weight with the thoughtful and informed. These reflections are
the necessary introduction to the mention of a measure which has
always been described as one of peculiar hardship — the bill passed in
the second year of queen Anne, for " preventing the further growth
of popery;" an act which, however it may be justified in principle, is
still open to more than doubt as to the prudence of its policy; a doubt
which we would suggest on the strong ground, that in point of fact its
severer clauses were never to any extent enforced. The act already
noticed for guarding the succession, has one of its clauses to this ef-
fect:— " And forasmuch as it most manifestly appears that the papists
of this kingdom, and other disaffected persons, do still entertain hopes
of disappointing the said succession, as the same stands limited, for
prevention whereof," &c, &c. The act in question, among other
matters in the preamble, states, that " many persons professing the
popish religion have it in their power to raise divisions among pro-
testants, by voting at elections for members of parliament, and also

have it in their power to use other ways and means, tending to the de-
struction of the protestant interests in this kingdom," &c., &c. Now,
if it be kept in mind how much was then known and felt to depend on
the safety and integrity of the protestant interests, and if the spirit be
recollected that governed the entire conduct of those members of the
church of Rome, who had the ignorant populace wholly at their com-
mand, the following harsh provisions will be more moderately and
fairly judged of. 1st, They were forbidden to attempt to persuade
protestants to renounce their church and creed. 2d, Papists were
forbidden to send their children beyond seas for education. 3d, A
provision is made to secure a subsistence for such children of popish
parents as should embrace the protestant religion, in such cases as the
parents should fail to provide for them, and the right of inheritance
is secured to the eldest son, if a protestant. 4th,- The guardianship of
orphans is transferred from the nearest relative of the Romish, to the
next of the protestant communion. 5th, Protestants having any estate
or interest in the kingdom are forbidden to intermarry with papists.
6th, Papists are forbidden to purchase and estate in land, exceeding a
lease of thirty-one years. 7th, Limits the descent of the estates of
protestants to the next protestant heirs, passing over any papist who
might be entitled to succeed on the demise of such possessors, unless in
case of conformity within a certain specified time. 8th, Provides that
the estates of papists' parents shall descend in gavelkind to their chil-
dren, except in case where the eldest son should be a protestant at his
father's death. These provisions are followed by others, for the pur-
pose of securing their effect, by oaths and declarations. Of these one
is a declaration for the purpose of ascertaining the creed, followed
by an abjuration which we shall give at length, as confirmatory of the
view here taken of the real intent of these enactments: —

" I A. B. do truly and sincerely acknowledge, profess, testifie, and
declare, in my conscience, before God and the world, that our sove-
reign lady, queen Ann, is lawful and rightful queen of this realm,
and of all other her majestie's dominions and oountries thereunto be-
longing. And I do solemnly and sincerely declare, that I do believe
in my conscience, that the person pretended to be the Prince of
Wales, during the life of the late king James, and since his decease
pretending to be, and taking upon himself the style and title of king
of England, by the name of James III., hath not any right or title what-
soever to the crown of this realm, or any other the dominions thereto be-
longing; and I do renounce, refuse, and abjure, any allegiance or obedi-
ence to him. And I do swear, that I will bear faith and true allegi-
ance to her majesty queen Ann, and her will defend to the utmost of
my power, against all traitorous conspiracies and attempts whatsoever
which shall be made against her person, crown, or dignity. And 1
will do my best endeavour to disclose and make known to her majesty,
and her successors, all treasons and traitorous conspiracies, which I
shall know to be against her, or any of them. And I do faithfully
promise to the utmost of my power, to support, maintain, and defend
the limitation and succession of the crown, against him, the said
James, and all other persons whatsoever, as the same is, and stands
limited by an act, intituled, An Act declaring the rights and liberties of

714 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

the subject, and settling the succession of the crown, to her present
majesty, and the heirs of her body, being protestants ; and as the same
by one other act, intituled, An Act for the further limitation of the
crown, and b iter securing the rights and liberties of the subject, is
and stands limited after the decease of her majesty, and for default of
issue of her majesty, to the princess Sophia, electoress and duchess
dowager of Hanover, and the heirs of her body, being protestants.
And all these things I do plainly and sincerely acknowledge and swear,
according to these express words by me spoken, and according to the
plain and common understanding of the same words, without equivo-
cation, mental evasion, or secret reservation whatsoever. And I do
make this recognition, acknowledgment, adjuration, renunciation, and
promise, heartily, willingly, and truly, upon the true faith of a Chris-
tian. " So help me God."

The next clause states the importance of the cities of Limerick and
Galway as garrison towns — a fact well confirmed by the entire his-
tory of the recent struggle — and on this view provides for their security,
in case of any future outbreak of the same formidable spirit which had
been laid with so much bloodshed and difficulty, by prohibiting tne
settlement there of any persons of the Romish communion after the 25th
of March, 1703, and by exacting a security for the peaceable demeanour
of those who were actual residents. This clause is described by a very
clever, and not generally uncandid historian of the present day, with a
recklessness of assertion not easily accounted for, even by that writer's
extreme party principles, — a violation of the treaties of Limerick and
Galway. The assertion is mischievous, as well as unfounded upon any
clause or stipulation in either of those treaties. We are of opinion
that the fears of the loyalists of that day, and the still more warrant-
able fears of the English and the commercial inhabitants of this island,
contained some exaggeration: such is human feeling. We also think
that the consequences of legislation, founded on the prepossessions of
fear, were unfortunate-; but taking as the true, and only true ground
of a just appreciation of the equity of that entire system of harsh enact-
ment, we feel bound to insist that it was all unanswerably justified by
the whole history of the previous century. If this indeed were not the
case, — if our English ancestors, to whom Ireland owes whatever
she possesses of prosperity, had really, as Mr Taylor would represent,
first robbed and then enslaved, — there is now no wise or humane ob-
ject in insisting on the fact, t)r endeavouring to keep alive resentment
and vindictive recollection; the wisdom, if not the sincerity, may surely
be doubted, which for the service of party, would thus appeal to the very
passions which have been the efficient and proximate causes of all the
sufferings of unhappy Ireland. To what purpose can it be to tell the
Irish people, (were it not an unwarrantable falsehood,) that they have
been the victims of every wrong, but to excite that spirit of mistaken re-
taliation, which has ever, and will ever, recoil upon themselves. If they
really were plundered, will the descendants of the plunderer be so gra-
tuitously generous as to make restitution now, in the tenth generation?
Ii they were oppressed, are their descendants to stretch the preroga-
tive of Divine vengeance, and visit the sins of the fathers beyond the

SIR RICHARD COX. 715

third or fourth generation? If this were justified, in fact, what would
be the consequence ? Such justice will never be obtained while a hand
can be lifted to resist: and those who falsify history to preach ven-
geance, would soon become witnesses to the reality which they so
heedlessly overlook in the zeal of their patriotism, and be forced to
acknowledge the neglected truth, that it is to such patriots and such a
spirit, that Ireland owes all her sufferings. If she is never to know
peace, or to attain civil progress, until the results of seven or eight
centuries (results ever forgotten in the history of other nations) shall
be reversed : she is then alone among nations doomed to a perpetual
reproach and curse. These reflections are not designed to vindicate
anything, or, on the other hand, to depreciate anything practicable for
the advantage even of a party ; but we would suggest, that the claims
of justice and policy may be better preferred on their actual grounds,
either in equity or expediency, than on irritating and false statements
of the past.

This severe enactment was plainly suggested by the fear and pru-
dence of the time. It was the direct inference from the history of
centuries, and then enforced by events and political workings, fresh in
the memory of all. If these facts have happily now no existence, if
the Pretender is no more, if the papal supremacy has expired, if the
old insurgent temper of the Irish populace has yielded to the influence
of growing civilization, if their priesthood has ceased to be a political
instrument in the hands of foreign potentates, if the race of old families,
once the despots of the soil, have melted into the pacific waters of
industry and civilization — why, then, surely this island is mature for
a full participation in every right and blessing that equal laws and
regulated liberty can give. There is no need for the imprudent and
calumnious assumption of a different state of things, which, if it still
existed, would render their claims most doubtful. Is it not unjust
to give up the whole force of advocacy, by confounding the people
of to-day with those of a hundred years ago? Why will the writers
of the radical press wrong the people, and stultify themselves by facts
which can be contradicted, and reasons which have no force, but to
irritate the passions, and endanger the peace and safety of the peasantry,
who are the only persons deceived? We should advocate the cause of
Ireland on other grounds, and in a different strain. But we are
hurried out of our course, by the party representations of writers, into
whose works we have been compelled or induced to look. It is more
to the purpose, to observe here, that the provisions of the statute thus
questioned, contain much to be deeply regretted, as being severe for
a purpose not to be attained by severities. The object to be then
legitimately pursued, was the effectual control of classes which were
actuated by an unsafe spirit; and no means essential to the purpose
were superfluous. But with this essential policy, there mingled a
considerable and fatal error: it was judged by the inexperienced sim-
plicity of our ancestors, that Romanism itself, to which so many dis-
asters seemed traceable, might be gradually worn out and extinguished
by legislative enactments, which were not in fact designed for oppres-
sion, but as imposing a motive for what Sir Richard Cox would call
" the conversion of the Irish," it was, they thought, free to every man

7 1 6 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

to exchange a church which they held to be erroneous, for one which
they held to be founded in divine truth; and if their notion was just,
none could suffer by the change. They had no ill will to papists as
men, but erroneously fancied that popery could be put down by penal-
ties. In this they betrayed some ignorance of human nature, as well
as of ecclesiastical history; and we are free to admit tbat the great sup-
port of Romanism in Ireland, has been the strength derived from the
political character, and scope of influence thus infused into it. It is
one of the unhappy conditions of fallen human nature, to be cold enough
about religion as referrible to its real and only just principles, as ex-
pressed in the " first and great commandment," and the second, which
" is like unto it." But for one who will love God or man, there are
ten thousand who will joyfully fight in his name: when a spiritual
principle is lowered into a vehicle for discontent, adventure, anger, or
mere excitement of any kind, it gathers fire fast enough. It is indeed
easier to wield or bear the faggot and brand, than to bear the common
humiliations of the Christian walk, or to serve in peace. Such is man
in every age and nation. And looking thus on the very justifiable
fear and precaution of our forefathers, we think that it was unfortunate
to plant, so deeply as they did, the roots of such a tree. The most
anxious care, we believe, should be preserved, so far as may be, to
keep a clear line between politics and religious tenets; we say, so far
as may be, for it is not possible to exclude the consideration when
the political and religious tenets happen to be one : a difficulty, — in some
degree lessened by the fact, that the individual is not altogether to be
identified with the church to which he belongs ; for, if no stronger tie
than the spiritual tie shall have been forcibly woven, most laymen are
held but feebly by the bonds of mere ecclesiastical control. It is also
not nearly so light a matter as it may be thought at first view, to take
up a ground liable to misrepresentations of so dangerous a character
as the charge of religious oppression. Whatever the occasion may
chance to be, the rallying point of popular clamour will be some
venerable name : for in the whole scope of error there is no admitted
plea but truth and right. The most stringent system of civil control,
directed against acts or conduct, is less liable to resistance of a dan-
gerous kind, and far more transitory in its after-workings, than the
lightest, which places resistance under the sanction of a sacred pretext,
and the guidance of spiritual policy.

The papists asked leave to be heard by their counsel against this
bill; and the desired permission was granted. Sir Theobald Butler,
Messrs Malone, and Rice, attended, and exerted considerable eloquence
and ability. They pleaded the treaty of Limerick, which their hearers
considered as mere advocacy. They also urged the meritorious con-
duct of the papists since their last submission; but the argument was
surely rather premature — the bloody experiment of insurrection will
seldom be tried twice in the same generation. With more truth But-
ier dwelt on the danger of sowing strife between parents and
children; and the truth was felt as a dreadful necessity. It only re-
mains to add here, that this law was from the commencement ineffective.
The provisions of real hardship, which affected property, and in some
measure tended to injure the authority of parents, were easily eluded

by conveyances and incumbrances, and the whole resources of legal
tiction and contrivance. The magistrates, in most instances, refused
to perform their part in enforcing a law revolting to the pride, and
prejudicial to the interests of those gentlemen, with whom, in the
intercourse of private life, they were wont to live on terms of friend-
ship and respect. The Irish parliament, it is true, made repeated
efforts to enforce its laws; and in March, 1705, they passed a vote,
"that all magistrates, and other persons whatsoever, who neglected or
omitted to put the penal laws into due execution, were betrayers of
the liberties of the kingdom." In 1709, an act for the further enforce-
ment of this was passed, which demands no additional comment here,
save that, while it enforced its essential provisions, it also so regulated
and limited its operation, as to lessen the pernicious effects. We shall
have, unfortunately, other occasions to revert to this topic, which pre-
sents the great stumbling-block to Irish history. It still continues to
separate into two irreconcilable sytems, the opinions, and even the
records of the two great sections into which the intelligence of this
country is divided. We shall have conducted our own statements
with little skill indeed, if those who think with either, unless with un-
usual moderation, will consent to reckon us among their parties. On
party cpiestions we have already stated truly, and more than once, our
principle, — the nature of which is to exclude general reproach from
all those great sections of society, who, acting sincerely on the prin-
ciples they hold for true and just, or the interests by which they are con-
nected, have looked on each other's opinions not only with rational dis-
sent, but even with aversion and prejudice, and in the conflict of long
contention and recrimination, have inculpated each other with more ac-
cusation and calumny, (true and false,) and obscured each other's whole
history with more animosity than the ordinary powers of human reason
can avail to remove, correct, and enlighten. In this we pledge our-
selves to no particular view of any question ; but simply mean to assert,
and, so far as in us lies, maintain the assertion, that the public desires
and demands of the great aggregate of all public bodies, are always
honest, and founded on their notions of right and justice. These are,
mostly on all sides, largely alloyed with fallacies of every kind; but the
bad passions which such oppositions must on both sides call into being,
are far the worst, because the most permanent of the evils they produce.
And whatever may have been the wrongs, oppressions, or murders and
robberies committed on either side, by those unprincipled individuals
never wanting to any — their mischief would, like all the real results
of this transitory world, die with the actors and sufferers, and produce
no effect upon the aftertime, were they not kept alive by the advocacy
of party; so that every generation is successively inflamed by the
firebrand kindled in the pile of ancient animosities. The story of the
phcenix rising regenerated from the ancestral nest, has no stronger type
in reality than the hell-kite of dissension, which preys on the peace of
this country. But once more, we must refrain: the time is not yet ripe
for the one truth, deeply reproachful as it is to all who have sought
the good of the country, loving her prosperity "not wisely, but too
well." The whole of her sufferings are the result of protracted dis-
sension : the combatants, when they pause to look at stained and tram-

718 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

pled ground, the broken walls, and the air surcharged with the dust
of conflict, may point to the dismal scene, a Lid accuse each other as
authors of the ruin wrought by their mutual madness.*

It is more pleasing to the historian to turn from the gloom of such
considerations, to the efforts of more enlightened policy for the facili-
tation of trade. A disordered state of public feeling, the vast uncer-
tainty of peace, and the want of encouragement from the ascendant
power of England, presented serious obstacles to a commerce so for-
tunate in its natural resources, that even these disadvantages could
not prevent it from making a considerable start in advance, whenever
there was a breathing time from civil fury. The obstacles which re-
sulted from an uncertain state of property, and still more from the
feebleness and defectiveness of the law, presented a more constant
pressure, and were less capable of being remedied by any occasional
measure or individual resistance; they operated not so much by direct
interference, as by the influence they had in enfeebling the vital
functions of trade by the effect which they had on public credit. To
remedy this disadvantage, few laws were made, because the eye
of the government was diverted from the ordinary processes of
civil life, by the violent and disordered processes which affected the
whole state of the land, in which no member performed its proper
office, or moved in its proper place. An act " for quieting posses-
sions, and disposing of undisposed and plus acres," was among
the most useful and judicious enactments planned on the same occa-
sion. In the preamble of this act, several statements are incidentally
made, which throw some light on the policy of the government, and
the state of the country. The introductory sentences state, that
" Whereas it will very much tend to the prosperity of this kingdom,
which hath been ruined by the frequent rebellions of Irish papists, and
r,o the interests of your majesty's revenue, that your good subjects be
quieted in their possessions, and encouraged to plant and improve the
country." For the purpose of this encouragement, so essential to the
advance of Irish prosperity, two main provisions are contained in this
act, — viz., the disposal of certain residual denominations of lands, of
which the principal part had already been granted, or otherwise dis-
posed of. These portions, called plus acres, were now to be " vested
in such person, or persons, who, on the 1st day of October, 1702,
were in the possession of such plus acres, by themselves, their tenants,
&c," to be enjoyed by them and their heirs for ever, liable to such
quitrent as was payable out of the other portions of the same deno-
minations already vested. And by the following clause, to terminate
all disputes about the possession of such land, a power was vested in
the lord- lieutenant and six of the privy council, within three years to
hear, and finally determine, all claims to their possession. The act
goes on to state the fact, that there still continued to be large tracts ol
the same class of lands undisposed of; for the most part so sterile as

* How far the principle here enforced is capable of any practical application is a
question of a different kind, and not within our province. Rights, whether real or
imaginary, will not be relinquished for the good of mankind; and truth, if sacred, ought
not, for any earthly consideration. But it is the more incumbent on those who
agitate the world, to weigh well the tenets they support and propagate,

not to be worth any quitrent, " and therefore remains desolate and
uninhabited, but are a receptacle for thieves, robbers, and tories, to the
great detriment of the country, and delay of her majesty's revenue."
On these considerations, a power is similarly given to the lord-lieu-
tenant, &c, as before, to grant those lands to protestants, for reason-
able rents, and such terms of years as they might see fit. Still more
to the purpose declared in the preamble, is the first clause of the next
following chapter of the act, which confirms every estate vested in pur-
suance of the acts of settlement and explanation, in the last reign, to
be held free from all liabilities and exceptions contained in the provi-
sions of that act, and in future barring all claimants who had not
hitherto brought their actions, by the full and final extinction of their
pretended rights.*

An advantage of at least equal importance to the trade of this king-
dom was the act for recovery of small debts, &c, attributable entirely to
the judicious advice of Sir Richard Cox. He also obtained an act of
the English parliament, allowing the exportation of Irish linen direct
to the colonies.

The effect of his visit to England was to make the character and
distinguished abilities of Cox more thoroughly known and appreciated;
and Mr Methuen, the Irish chancellor, having been sent ambassador
to Portugal, Cox was raised to that high office.

In 1 705, Sir Richard was appointed lord-justice, together with lord
Cutts, the duke of Ormonde being at the time lord-lieutenant. The
jacobite principles of this nobleman were fully understood, and there
was entertained among the members of the Irish administration an
anxious wish for his removal. The reader is aware that on both sides
of the water there was at this time a powerful though latent collision
of the two great ar>*agonist parties on the subject of the succession.
It was universally felt that the queen and court party were secretly
favourable to the Pretender, and that all the great leaders of the court
party kept up a private correspondence with that unfortunate family.
Among these, some, as Marlborough, Harley, &c, were simply desir-
ous to keep themselves well with either side, and had a sincere desire
to preserve the act of settlement as limited by the act of succession.
Others, among whom St John with the duke of Ormonde were the
chief, were more sincere in their political zeal for the exile. The
Jacobites were of course preferred to place and power; and during this
reign there was a general disposition of the administrative arrange-
ments for the purposes of that party. This was carried to as great a
height as the strong and universal sense of the British public admitted,
so that there is abundant proof that the most of the court measures
and appointments were dictated by James, or by his authorized agents
in London. Ireland was, as ever, the rallying point of expectation ;
the devoted tenacity of the popular affections, the influence of the
Roman See, the over-mastery of the thoroughly diffused agency of the
regular clergy, and the general, and indeed natural, bias of a prevail-
ing creed, which by its very institution was political, and which a
stringent control imbittered ; all these considerations, of which the

* Ir. Statutes, 2 Anne Reg. c. ix.

most prominent had already made Ireland the stage of a desolating
conflict, now made it the scene of an important byplay of party.
Under these circumstances, it is not improbable that there were seve-
ral strong currents of public feeling against the person and conduct
of the duke of Ormonde. In spite of the popularity of his very name
and title, it was in effect difficult for him long to continue in favour
with any. Compelled by circumstances to pursue a line of conduct
which deprived him of the regard of the Irish party, his real temper
and private views were too well known to be trusted by the English.
The British cabinet, reluctantly hurried along by the strong zeal of
the whig party, which then occupied the position and politics of the
modern conservative, the measures of the administration were for the
most part in conformity with the great protestant feeling in England, and
the duke was directed to "prevent the growth of popery." To this effect
he had pledged himself, and he kept his promise. From the state of
feeling already described as secretly governing the administration of
affairs, we should be inclined to infer that numerous under-currents of
fear, suspicion, doubt, and intrigue, of which we have before us no
direct evidence, then strongly agitated the minds of political men, and
led to demonstrations not now precisely to be explained. The duke was,
we doubt not, at the time sincere in his profession of political faith,
though after-circumstances show that his mind was working round to
the strong bias of the court. If the inference should yet be premature,
still the anti-Jacobite zeal of the English people, and of the protestant
party in Ireland, exasperated by a just suspicion of the court party,
was not easily satisfied. The distinction of whig and tory became at
this time prevalent in Ireland, and with it, it is probable, that the
violent party feelings connected with it were also imported — from
which our inference derives additional probability. Whatever were
the duke's opinions, he must have at the time begun to be an object of
jealous observation. And if it be said that the decision of his conduct
was sufficient to exempt him from doubt, yet it is to be observed that
for this he had the less credit with the whig party, as he was known to
have, from carelessness and facility of character, so entangled himself
in the discharge of his public trusts, as to be much in the power of
the leaders of that party. Whatever were the causes, after the duke's
recall to England, the feeling of the council against his continuing to
hold the vice-regal office, began to show itself strongly. Lord Cutts,
with Sir Richard Cox, were on this occasion appointed lords-justices.
Cutts died, and an effort was made by some of the Irish council to per-
suade Sir Richard to issue writs to the council to elect a govexmor; by
this means hoping that the duke might be superseded tacitly. To ren-
der this proposal more persuasive, it is asserted that it was suggested
to Sir Richard that he would be the person on whom the choice of the
council would fall. He was too experienced and sagacious to be circum-
vented by such an artifice, and repelled the temptation. An old statute
of Henry VIII. was proposed as the authority for this proposal: Sir
Richard explained that this statute was but a provision for the absence
of the chief magistrate of the kingdom. The councillors urged, and
Sir Richard consulted his learned brethren, the judges and law officers
of the crown, who coincided in his view, to winch, thus confirmed, he

adhered, to the no small vexation of those who had endeavoured to urge
him on the opposite course.

In April, 1707, the duke of Ormonde was removed, and the earl of
Pembroke was appoiuted in his room. There seems, at the moment,
to have been a strong doubt among Sir Richard's friends as to the
consequences of the change as regarded himself. But on the follow-
ing June, he found himself under the necessity of resigning the seals
to the lord-lieutenant, who took them with an assurance that he would
not have received them but with the desig-n of adequate compensation.
Sir Richard was aware of the active enmity to which both his recent con-
duct and his known politics had exposed him, and he felt that he must
not expect to pass free from its effects ; but with the natural firmness
of his manly character, he resolved to face his enemies, and trust to
the integrity of his entire conduct and character. His country affairs
had been for some time calling for his presence, and he had been pre-
paring to leave town ; but, considering- the construction which politi-
cal animosity is always prepared to fasten on the most indifferent ac-
tions, he resolved to stand his ground, and brave the inquiry which he
knew his enemies would soon set on foot. On this point he was not
kept in suspense: numerous accusations were brought againt him;
all of which he answered so fully and ably, as they followed each other,
that the malevolence of his accusers was confounded, and their perse-
verance wearied.

On the death of queen Anne, Sir Richard retired from public life. In
April, 1733, he was seized with an apoplectic attack, of which he died
in the following month, at the age of eighty-three. He was endowed
with many personal advantages, and many great qualifications for the
professional career in which he rose to eminence, as well as for litera-
ture, such as it was in Ireland in his day. His historical work is well
known, and has been largely used in the former parts of this work.
His zeal, as a Protestant writer, is such as to render him liable to the
charge of partiality ; but he cannot be fairly charged with misrepre-
sentation; and they who would make the charge, would do well
to weigh his statements taken with their foundation in fact and gen-
eral consistency, compared with the unmeasured and angry statements
of the writers who may be regarded as his antagonists. His zeal is
to be accounted for creditably, by the actual state of Ireland through
his long life ; and if we make many abatements on the score of fear
and error, still, to estimate mens' conduct justly, we have no right to
demand superhuman penetration, that looks beyond the present proba-
bilities and appearances, and measures opposition by the philosophical
staudard of a political canon, which, in the middle of the 19th century
has not yet been ascertained.

11. 2 z Ir.

722 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

GEORGE FARQUHAR.

BORN, A.D. 1678. DIED, A.D. 1707-

Farquhar was the son of a clergyman, and was born in Londonderry
in 1678. He is said to have manifested early proofs of dramatic
genius. He entered in the university of Dublin, in 1694; and, for
some time, showed both industry and talent, but soon fell into a course
of dissipation. The result was a total relaxation in his studies, and,
if the account which has been given of his expulsion from college be
true, he must have, for some time at least, fallen very low into the
depraved levities, to which the young are liable when too soon set free
from parental control. His class had been given an exercise on a
sacred subject, which Farquhar having neglected until he was called
upon in tbe hall, or perhaps in his tutoi-'s apartment ; he then proposed
to acquit himself by an extemporaneous exercise. The proposal was
allowed, and be wrote or uttered a jest at the same time so wretched,
indecent, and blasphemous, that we cannot here make even an allusion
to its monstrous purport. We are, indeed, inclined to disbelieve a
story of such silliness and depravity ; but, if it really occurred, it would
serve to exemplify a mind so far gone from every sense of respect and
decency, as for a time at least to have forgotten their existence in
others ; for it is said that Farquhar was disappointed at the failure of
a witticism which could only have been tolerated in the last stages of
drunkenness, to elicit the approbation of sober and religious men.

The narrative of this strange account relates that, in consequence
he was expelled, tanquam pestilentia hujus societatis, from the uni-
versity. The walks of professional life, which are the general aim of
academic study, were thus closed against him, and he took refuge upon
the stag-e for which he had in the meantime contracted a strong taste.
He had formed an intimacy with Wilks, a well-known English actor,
at the time engaged in Dublin, and by his interposition obtained an
engagement. His debut was favourable, and he continued for a short
time on the stage, until he had the ill fortune to wound a brother actor
very severely in playing a part in Dryden's play of the Indian emperor.
The accident was occasioned by his having inadvertently neglected
to change his sword for a foil, in a scene in which he was to kill his
antagonist. He was so much shocked that he resolved at once to
abandon the stage as an actor.

His friend Wilks was at the time engaged by Rich to play in
London. Farquhar accompanied him — and there is reason to presume,
that he must have previously made up his mind to try his fortune and
genius as a dramatic writer. He had also the good fortune to become
acquainted with the earl of Orrery, who gave him a lieutenancy in his
regiment.

In 1698, he brought out his comedy of " Love in a Bottle," which
was acted with applause. In 1700, he produced his "Trip to the
Jubilee," and obtained well-merited popularity by the character of Sir
Harry Wildair. This celebrated comedy had a run of fifty-three

GEORGE FARQUHAR. 723

nights, and gained a reputation for Wilks in the principal character
not inferior to that of the author. The same year Farquhar paid a
visit to Holland, where he obtained the notice due to his celebrity.
Among the incidents of this visit, he mentions an entertainment given
by the earl of Westmoreland, at which king William was a guest.

By the influence of Farquhar, that well-known actress, Mrs Oldfield,
was first introduced to the London boards in her sixteenth year. Her
success was promoted by a drama brought out in 1701 by her pro-
tector, in which she obtained very distinguished applause. This was
the year of Dryden's death — and Farquhar gives a description of his
funeral in one of his letters. The following year he published his
letters, essays, and poems, which are replete with all the peculiar
qualities of his mind. Among these letters there is one in which he
gives to his mistress, Mrs Oldfield, a very characteristic description
of himself. " My outside is neither better nor worse than Creator
made it ; and the piece being drawn by so great an artist, 'twere pre-
sumption to say there were many strokes amiss. I have a body quali-
fied to answer all the ends of its creation, and that's sufficient. As to
the mind, which, in most men, wears as many changes as their body, so
in me 'tis generally dressed in black. In short, my constitution is very
splenetic, and my amours, both which I endeavour to hide lest the
former should offend others, and the latter incommode myself; and my
mind is so vigilant in restraining these two failings, that I am taken
for an easy-natured man by my own sex, and an ill-natured clown by
yours. I have little estate but what lies under the circumference of my
hat; and should I by misfortune lose my head, I should not be worth
a groat. But I oug-ht to thank Providence that I can, by three hours'
study, live one and twenty, with satisfaction to myself, and contribute
to the maintenance of more families than some who have thousands a
year."

In 1702, "the Inconstant" appeared with less than his usual suc-
cess: this is accounted for by the circumstance of a change in the
public taste in favour of the Italian opera. The same year he became
the dupe of a female adventurer, who took a violent fancy to him, and
determined to obtain him for a husband by an unprincipled stratagem,
which, perhaps, loses much of its disgusting character when viewed
in reference to the lax morals of the period, and the depraved lessons
of the stage, in which Farquhar had his ample share. Knowing that
he was not to be won without money, the female of whom we speak
caused reports of her ample fortune to be circulated in every quarter
which best suited her design. And, in the same way, it was conveyed
to the vain poet's ear, that she had become desperately in love with
him. Farquhar, who was utterly devoid of discretion, at once fell
into the snare: the double bait was more than vanity and poverty
could withstand. He married his fair ensnarer, and was, of course,
undeceived not very satisfactorily — such a practical exemplification of
his art he must have considered as bordering too. nearly upon the
tragic. But it was among the lessons of his pen, and in the habitual
contemplation of his mind more nearly allied to the wit of the comic
author, than to the baseness of the actual reality. Farquhar too, was
not one to brood over an injury, or to reflect very seriously on any-

724 TRANSITION.— LITER AT? Y.

thing-: if he was shocked, it was only for a moment, and he easily for-
gave the trick; and is said to have always after conducted himself
with affection and kindness to his wife.

In 1704, he produced the "Stage Coach," a farce, with the assist-
ance of a friend. In the following year " The Twin Rivals" appeared;
and in 1706, " The Recruiting Officer," of which he is mentioned to
have collected the materials on a recruiting party in which he was
employed for his regiment, in Shrewsbury. Captain Plume, in this
farce, is supposed to represent the author himself, and Serjeant Kite
his serjeant.

The " Beaux Stratagem" completes the list of his works. It still
holds a high place in the list of what is called genteel comedy ; we
know not whether it yet retains any place on the stage, but it was a
favourite in the early part of the present century. He died before its
appearance — a prey to grief and disappointment, owing to great dis-
tress of circumstances, and, it is said, the perfidy of his patron. This
nobleman, when applied to in the hour of need, persuaded him to re-
lieve himself by the sale of his commission, and promised to obtain
another for him very soon. The advice was followed, but the promise
was forgotten; and Farquhar was so heavily affected by the painful
feelings occasioned by such a complicated affliction he never again held
up his head, but died in April, 1707, in his twenty-ninth year. He left
two daughters in a state of entire destitution ; but they were befriended
by Wilks, his first and last earthly friend., to whom a very pathetic
appeal was found among his papers after his death: it was the follow-
ing brief note : —

"Dear Bob,

" I have not anything to leave thee to perpetuate
my memory but two helpless girls; look upon them sometimes, and
think of him that was to the last moment of his life thine,

"George Farquhar."

Wilks obtained a benefit for the girls — it was very successful, and
the produce was employed for their support.

Many years have past since we have looked into the comedies of
Farquhar; we can now form but an indistinct opinion of their general
character and merits from any recollection of our own. They belong
perhaps to a department of the drama, which, of all branches of Eng-
lish literature, is the least likely to be restored to the possession of
that popular favour which is the legitimate claim of those dramas
which pretend to the representation of life and manners. Farquhar
has been compared with Congreve. If the preference were to be
settled with regard to pre-eminence of genius, or even superiority in
that wit, in which both excelled, we should not hesitate to decide for
Congreve — if, indeed, we should admit the propriety of so unequal a
comparison. But Farquhar has his advantages which, although less
brilliant and imposing when viewed with regard to genius only, give him
many practical claims to an effective superiority. Compared with his
greater rival, he is far more natural, and far less licentious and im-
pure: and while the sparkling dialogues of Congreve could never have

NAHUM TATE. 725

taken place except upon the stage, Farquhar's scenes were at least
true to human life, the manners of his day, and the passions of nature.
His plots were also more finished, and the style of his dialogue more
simple and unaffected.

Either of these distinguished comic writers, if they should at a
future time be looked into, will be chiefly valuable for the reflexion
which they retain of the taste and morals of the age in which they
wrote; for, of both, it may be said, that they are licentious and
artificial. There yet remained the consequences of that corruption
of which we think the origin must be looked for in the disorders of
the long rebellion, but which was nurtured and brought to its rank
maturity in the hotbed of king Charles' court. A strong reaction
set in during the reign of William and Mary ; but the taint was too
cong-enial for human nature to throw off with ease. Purer rules may
be adopted by the reason and conscience, long before taste and fashion,
which dwell in pleasures and levities, will be restored. The misappli-
cations of talent are directed by the beck and eye of folly — to say no
worse — and the taste of succeeding generations will long continue
vitiated by the perpetuating influence of the poet.

It was in this generation, and in the person of Congreve, that the
licentiousness of the comic drama received a check from which we
are inclined to date much of the reform in manners, which can be
subsequently traced. We refer to Collier's "Short "View of the Im-
morality and Profaneness of the English Stage," published in 1688.
He was weakly opposed by Congreve, whose opposition had only the
effect of prolonging, and giving added decision to the victory of his
antagonist. " Collier lived," writes Dr Johnson, " to see the reward
of his labour in the reformation of the theatre."

Of Congreve, we are entitled to offer a separate notice, as he was
educated first at Kilkenny, and then in the university of Dublin. The
place of his birth has been disputed, but he was himself strenuous in
the assertion of his claim to have been a native of England. We do
not see any reason to dispute the point, and our fast contracting limits
offer some for declining the doubtful honour. So far as education
may be allowed to govern the judgment, store the memory, or guide
the taste, his literary reputation is due to the university of Dublin.
A brief but sufficient memoir of his life has been written by Johnson,
whose writings are in every hand.

NAHUM TATE.

BORN A.D. 1652. DIED A.D. 1715.

Nahum Tate was the son of a clergyman of the county of Cavan.
He was born in Dublin, whither his father had been driven by the
rebels. His father became, after some vicissitudes, minister of Wer-
burgh's church in Dublin. It may be inferred that the son had
the advantages of a peaceable youth and pious education. At the
age of sixteen he entered the university of Dublin. He was favoured

early with the patronage of the earl of Dorset, and succeeded Shad-
well as poet laureat. The incidents of his life were few and uninter-
esting1. He fell into great distress and died, it is said in the Mint,
into which he had escaped from his creditors.

As a writer, he cannot receive much commendation — his poems and
dramatic works could hardly be considered as entitling him to a notice
here. But those far and universally known versions of the psalms,
which have given to piety a welcome and available resource, and added
to sacred music the utterance of inspired feeling, is not to be rated by
the talent that has been employed in the pious and honourable task.
When the proudest monuments of human genius shall have past away,
and when the thoughts of which tbe very foundation and meaning
subsist in perishable things shall have been forgotten, the meanest
song, in which eternal truths are uttered, may be preserved by their
abiding truth, and be a portion of the records of heaven.

The songs of Zion do not indeed demand the genius of Moore or
Byron, to give to heavenly inspiration the power of earthly genius.
They demand no refined and artful melody of versification, no terse
and pointed rhetoric of style, to wrest them from their pure and simple
significancy: they refuse the additions which are involved in the whole
art of poetry, and have only required, with the utmost truth and fidelity
to be conformed to the rhythm adapted to church music, and to the
genius of the national ear. To be sung, as in their origin they were,
and to be still the song of every rank and tongue, as well adapted to
the sabbath-evening of the peasant, as the endowed cathedra! ; to be
the effusion of the simplest christian piety, and still not lose their
tone and echo of the ancient harp of Israel, only demanded changes
of form, to which aspiring genius, with its excess of invention and
profuse array of intellectual tints, will not be confined; and which a
thorough infusion of genuine sympathy with pious sentiments, can
alone command. In such a task a more refined and gifted mind than
Tate's might have found itself wanting ; and, it may perhaps be not
unfitly added — for we have seen it variously exemplified — that a degree
of intellectual power little competent in most exertions of human aim,
when employed in the service of God, and elevated by that Spirit
which is greater than the power of genius, will reach to heights
which can be accounted for in no other way than by tracing them to
the source of all truth and wisdom, — such efforts will ever be found
characterized by a chaste adaptation to their good and hallowed
purpose.

EGBERT, VISCOUNT MOLESWOKTH.

BORN A.D. 1656. — DIED A.D. 17'25.

The Molesworth family anciently possessed rank and fortune in the
counties of Bedford and Northampton ; and are traced so far back as
the reign of the first Edward, from whom their ancestor, Sir William
de Molesworth, received knighthood in 1306, on the occasion when

ROBERT, VISCOUNT MOLESWOETH. 727

prince Edward was knighted. He had attended the king in his ex-
pedition to the Holy Land, and, at several times, received distinguished
honours from him and his successor.

From a younger branch of his descendants in a direct line, came
Robert, the father of the person here under our notice. In the re-
bellion of 1641, he came into Ireland as a captain in the regiment com-
manded by his elder brother. At the termination of the civil wars,
he became an undertaker, and obtained 2500 acres of land in the
county of Meath. He afterwards became a merchant in Dublin, and
rose into great wealth and favour with the government. He died
in 1656.

Four days after his father's death, in the same year, Robert Moles-
worth was born — the only son of his father.

He received his education in Dublin, and entered the university.
He married early, probably in his twentieth year, a sister of the earl of
Bellamont. In the struggle previous to the Revolution, he came forward
early in support of the prince of Orange, for which his estates were
seized by king James, under whose parliament he was attainted. He
was, however, soon restored to his rights, by king William, who enter-
tained a high esteem for him; and, soon after his accession to the
throne, sent him as an envoy into Denmark.

At Denmark he fell into some disfavour with the Danish court. The
circumstances are only known through the representations of an ad-
versary; but they are probable, and may be substantially true. He is
stated, by Dr King, on the authority of the Danish envoy, to have
most unwarrantably trespassed on the royal privileges, by hunting in
the royal preserves, and riding on the road exclusively appropriated to
the king. In consequence of those freedoms, he was forbidden the
court, and left the country without the ordinary form of an audience.
On his arrival in England, he wrote and published " An Account of
Denmark." The book was written under the influence of resentment,
and gave a very unfavourable account of the Danish government. It
was, of course, highly resented by that court, and most especially by
prince George, who was married to the English princess Anne, after-
wards queen of England. A complaint was made to king William,
by Scheele, the Danish envoy in London — he also supplied Dr King
with materials for a reply — on the warrant of which we have the above
particulars.

Molesworth's book became at once popular, and was the means of
greatly extending his reputation, and raising him in the estimation of
the most eminent literary characters of the day. He served in the
Irish house of commons, for the borough of Swords. He was elected
to a seat in the English parliament, for East Retford. He obtained
a seat in the privy council, in the reign of queen Anne — but lost it in
1713, in the heat of party, in consequence of a complaint brought
against him by the lower house of convocation, for some words of an
insulting purport spoken by him in public. It is, however, easy to see
that, in the fierce animosity of the tories then striving for existence,
a stanch supporter of the house of Hanover had little chance of
favour. The " Crisis," mentioned in the previous memoir, was partly
written in defence of Molesworth.

728 TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

At length the accession of George the first once more restored the
Whigs to place and favour. Molesworth was again named as one of
the Irish privy council, and a commissioner of trade and plantations.

In 1716, the king created him an Irish peer, under the titles of
baron Philipstown and viscount Molesworth of Swords, by patent,
dated 16th July, 1716. He was a fellow of the Royal Society, and
took a prominent part in every concern which affected the welfare of
his country, till the last two years of his life, when he withdrew from
public affairs, and devoted his time to literary retirement.

He died 22d May, 1725, and was buried at Swords,

Besides his " Account of Denmark," he wrote several pieces of
considerable ability, which had, in their day, the effect of exciting public
attention, and awakening a useful spirit in Ireland.

In 1723, he published an address to the Irish house of commons
for the encouragement of agriculture, and in 1719, a letter relative to
the Irish peerage. He translated a political treatise of the civilian
Hottoman, from the Latin, and this work reached a second edition, in
1721. His tracts were numerous, and were genex-ally approved for
their strong sense and plain force of style.

THOMAS SOUTHERN.

BORN A. D 1659 DIED A. D 1746.

Southern was born in Dublin in 1659, and entered the Dublin Uni-
versity in 1676. He did not continue his academical studies for more
than a year, when he quitted Ireland, and went to study law in
London. The temper of mind which was impatient of the studies of
the University, was not likely to be fixed by the severer attractions of
special pleading. Southern soon turned aside to dally with the lighter
muse.

In 1682, the " Persian Prince," his earliest dramatic production,
was acted. One of the principal persons of this drama was designed
as a compliment to the duke of York, from whom he received a gra-
tuity in return. After the accession of this prince to the throne,
Southern obtained an ensigncy in the regiment of earl Ferrers, and
served in Monmouth's rebellion. After this was terminated by the
capture of that ill-fated nobleman, Southern seems to have left the
army and given himself wholly to dramatic composition. He is men-
tioned as having acquired more money by his plays than any writer
up to his time, and to have been the first to obtain a second and third
night of representation for the author of a successful play. He also
received sums till then unknown for his copyright, and gave larger
prices for prologues. Pope notices this, in his lines addressed to
Southern, with which we shall close this notice. Dryden having once
asked him how much he got by a play — was answered, £700 ; while, by
Dryden's comment on the circumstance, it appears that he had himself
never obtained more than £100. This we are more inclined to attri-
bute to the address and prudence of Southern, and to other causes of

THOMAS SOUTHERN.

729

a more general nature than to any superiority of dramatic power.
Any comparison between the two would, indeed, be too absurd; but
there is, nevertheless, an important consideration which we can here
do no more than merely state. It cannot but be felt — and in later
times it has become far too plain to be overlooked — that the acting
success of a drama is no criterion of the genius of the writer, or of
the intellectual qualities employed in its composition. Considerable
talent there, indeed, must be, to secure success ; but then it is mainly of
that kind which is generally understood by the term artistic, and having
the nature of skill rather than genius. We are the less desirous to
pursue this point, because, in recent times, it has become too plain to
l^e missed by any one. Indeed, some of the most thoroughly success-
ful stageplays of the present generation, indicate to a reader no talent
save in the very lowest degree — neither plot, character, passion, senti-
ment, nor the least power of exciting the smallest interest, unless in
strict reference to mere stage effect. The principle appears to be,
that it requires little power to awaken human sympathies with present
and visible action and scene. Dramatic skill has improved upon the
maxim of the Roman critic : —

Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem,
Quaui quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, quaeque
Ipse sibi tradit spectator.

The commonest incident, or most ordinary affection of humanity,
actually presented to the eye, has on the crowd a more thoroughly
awakening and attractive effect, than the noblest conceptions of genius,
or the most refined and delicate traits of sentiment or character. In
these remarks, we should regret much to be understood to depreciate
the consummate art which, in modern fiction — for so far our remark
may be easily extended — renders the very lowest degree of intellectual
power available.

Southern who has, perhaps, the honour to be the great founder of
this our modern school of dramatic production, seems also to have
manifested a proportional command of those subordinate talents which
have since so much contributed to its success. By the address and
dexterity with which he practised the art of disposing of his tickets to
the best advantage, he contributed, at the same time, to the success
and to the produce of his dramas.

Notwithstanding these remarks, it must be admitted that Southern
is, in no small degree, to be exempted from the depreciating estimate
which they may be thought to imply. It was long before the stage had
reached its full command over the elements of poverty, dryness, and
triteness of incident, and attained the maximum of stage effect. South-
ern has no great power of any kind; but it is evident that to the cul-
tivation of this great end, he adds considerable knowledge of the pas-
sions and some poetry. It may also be favourably noticed, that he
showed much good taste in freeing the drama from the extravagance
and impurity of the day in which he wrote. He was highly thought
of by Dryden; Gray also, a far superior critic, praises his pathetic
powers. It ought, however, to be a qualification of this praise, that

Ti. 3 a Tr.

r30

TRANSITION.— LITERARY.

his success was greatly to be attributed to the skill with which he
seized on real incidents, which could not, by any clumsiness of treat-
ment, be deprived of their affecting' interest. The story of Oroonoke
was true, almost to its minutest details. If read under this impression,
the reader will see that Southern has not done much; and this is,
probably his chief production. The story was first told in a novel by
Mrs Behn — who had resided at the scene, been acquainted with the
parties, and witnessed the incidents and the catastrophe.

Southern lived to his eighty-fifth year. He lived the latter years
of his life in Tothill Street, Westminster, and was remarked to be a
constant attendant at the cathedral service. Prior to this he had re-
sided near Covent Garden; and is described by Mr Oldys as a person
of grave and venerable exterior, dressed in black, " with his silver
sword and silver locks;" and the following* notice occurs among Gray's
letters to Horace Walpole — " We have old Mr Southern at a gentle-
man's house, a little way off, who often comes to see us. He is now
seventy-seven years old, and has almost wholly lost his memory; but
is as agreeable an old man as can be — at least I persuade myself so,
when I look at him and think of Isabella and Oroonoko." Dryden
appears to have placed him on the same rank with Otway, and is said
to have employed him to finish his own tragedy of Cleomenes. The
following are Pope's lines to Southern, on his birth-day in 1742.

Resigned to live — prepared to die,

With not one sin, but poetry,

This day Tom's fair account has run

Without a blot to eighty-one.

Kind Boyle before his poet lays

A table with a cloth of bays ;

And Ireland, mother of sweet singers,

Presents her harp still to his lingers.

The feast his tow'ring genius marks

In yonder wild-goose and the larks !

The mushrooms show his wit was sudden,

And for his judgment, lo, a pudden !

Roast beef, though old, proclaims him stout,

And grace, although a bard, devout.

May Tom, whom Heav'n sent down to raise

The price of prologues and of plays,

Be every birth-day more a winner,

Digest his thirty thousandth dinner ;

Walk to his grave without reproach,

And scorn a rascal and a coach.

It is rather curious to observe how nearly Pope's allotment of din-
ners approaches to the actual number of Southern's days, at the very
birth-day which he celebrates. This, with the known minute love of
precision which was characteristic of Pope, suggests the idea of a
calculation and an oversight. In endeavouring to be precise, the poet
forgot that he was setting a very near limit to the days he thus num-
bered. Southern lived till 1746 — four years longer.

END OF VOL. II.

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