He now proclaimed that he had been only
too gracious when he had
condescended to ask the assent of the Scottish Estates to his
wishes. His prerogative would enable him
not only to protect those whom he
favoured, but to punish those who had crossed him.
He was confident that, in Scotland, his
dispensing power would not be
questioned by any court of law. There was a Scottish Act
of Supremacy which gave to the sovereign
such a control over the Church as
might have satisfied Henry the Eighth. Accordingly
Papists were admitted in crowds to offices
and honours. The Bishop of Dunkeld,
who, as a Lord of Parliament, had opposed the
government, was arbitrarily ejected from
his see, and a successor was
appointed. Queensberry was stripped of all his employments,
and was ordered to remain at Edinburgh
till the accounts of the Treasury
during his administration had been examined and
approved. As the representatives of the
towns had been found the most
unmanageable part of the Parliament, it was determined
to make a revolution in every burgh
throughout the kingdom. A similar
change had recently been effected in England by judicial
sentences: but in Scotland a simple
mandate of the prince was thought
sufficient. All elections of magistrates and of town
councils were prohibited; and the King
assumed to himself the right of
filling up the chief municipal offices. In a formal
letter to the Privy Council he announced
his intention to fit up a Roman
Catholic chapel in his palace of Holyrood; and he gave
orders that the Judges should be directed
to treat all the laws against
Papists as null, on pain of his high displeasure. He
however comforted the Protestant
Episcopalians by assuring them
that, though he was determined to protect the Roman Catholic
Church against them, he was equally
determined to protect them against
any encroachment on the part of the fanatics. To this
communication Perth proposed an answer
couched in the most servile terms.
The Council now contained many Papists; the
Protestant members who still had seats had
been cowed by the King's obstinacy
and severity; and only a few faint murmurs were
heard. Hamilton threw out against the
dispensing power some hints which
he made haste to explain away. Lockhart said that he would
lose his head rather than sign such a
letter as the Chancellor had drawn,
but took care to say this in a whisper which was heard
only by friends. Perth's words were
adopted with inconsiderable
modifications; and the royal commands were obeyed; but a sullen
discontent spread through that minority of
the Scottish nation by the aid of which the government had hitherto
held the majority down.
When the historian of this troubled reign
turns to Ireland, his task becomes
peculiarly difficult and delicate. His steps,--to
borrow the fine image used on a similar
occasion by a Roman poet,--are on
the thin crust of ashes, beneath which the lava is
still glowing. The seventeenth century
has, in that unhappy country, left
to the nineteenth a fatal heritage of malignant
passions. No amnesty for the mutual wrongs
inflicted by the Saxon defenders of
Londonderry, and by the Celtic defenders of
Limerick, has ever been granted from the
heart by either race. To this day a
more than Spartan haughtiness alloys the many noble
qualities which characterize the children
of the victors, while a Helot
feeling, compounded of awe and hatred, is but too often
discernible in the children of the
vanquished. Neither of the hostile
castes can justly be absolved from blame; but the chief
blame is due to that shortsighted and
headstrong prince who, placed in a
situation in which he might have reconciled them,
employed all his power to inflame their
animosity, and at length forced
them to close in a grapple for life and death.
The grievances under which the members of
his Church laboured in Ireland
differed widely from those which he was attempting to
remove in England and Scotland. The Irish
Statute Book, afterwards polluted
by intolerance as barbarous as that of the
dark ages, then contained scarce a single
enactment, and not a single
stringent enactment, imposing any penalty on Papists as
such. On our side of Saint George's
Channel every priest who received a
neophyte into the bosom of the Church of Rome was
liable to be hanged, drawn, and quartered.
On the other side he incurred no
such danger. A Jesuit who landed at Dover took his
life in his hand; but he walked the
streets of Dublin in security. Here
no man could hold office, or even earn his
livelihood as a barrister or a
schoolmaster, without previously
taking the oath of supremacy, but in Ireland a public functionary
was not held to be under the
necessity of taking that oath unless it
were formally tendered to him. It
therefore did not exclude from employment any person
whom the government wished to promote. The
sacramental test and the
declaration against transubstantiation were unknown nor was
either House of Parliament closed against
any religious sect.
It might seem, therefore, that the Irish
Roman Catholic was in a situation
which his English and Scottish brethren in the faith might well envy.
In fact, however, his condition was more
pitiable and irritating than theirs. For,
though not persecuted as a Roman
Catholic, he was oppressed as an Irishman. In his
country the same line of demarcation which
separated religions separated
races; and he was of the conquered, the subjugated, the
degraded race. On the same soil dwelt two
populations, locally intermixed,
morally and politically sundered. The difference of
religion was by no means the only
difference, and was perhaps not
even the chief difference, which existed between them. They
sprang from different stocks. They spoke
different languages. They had
different national characters as strongly opposed as any
two national characters in Europe. They
were in widely different stages of
civilisation. Between two such populations there could
be little sympathy; and centuries of
calamities and wrongs had generated
a strong antipathy. The relation in which the minority
stood to the majority resembled the
relation in which the followers of
William the Conqueror stood to the Saxon churls, or
the relation in which the followers of
Cortes stood to the Indians of
Mexico.
The appellation of Irish was then given
exclusively to the Celts and to
those families which, though not of Celtic origin, had in
the course of ages degenerated into Celtic
manners. These people, probably
somewhat under a million in number, had, with few
exceptions, adhered to the Church of Rome.
Among them resided about two
hundred thousand colonists, proud of their Saxon blood
and of their Protestant faith.
The great preponderance of numbers on one
side was more than compensated by a
great superiority of intelligence, vigour, and
organization on the other. The English
settlers seem to have been, in
knowledge, energy, and perseverance, rather above than
below the average level of the population
of the mother country. The
aboriginal peasantry, on the contrary, were in an almost
savage state. They never worked till they
felt the sting of hunger. They were
content with accommodation inferior to that
which, in happier countries, was provided
for domestic cattle. Already the
potato, a root which can be cultivated with scarcely
any art, industry, or capital, and which
cannot be long stored, had become
the food of the common people. From a people so fed
diligence and forethought were not to be
expected. Even within a few miles
of Dublin, the traveller, on a soil the richest and
most verdant in the world, saw with
disgust the miserable burrows out
of which squalid and half naked barbarians stared wildly at
him as he passed.
The aboriginal aristocracy retained in no
common measure the pride of birth,
but had lost the influence which is derived from
wealth and power. Their lands had been
divided by Cromwell among his
followers. A portion, indeed, of the vast territory which he
had confiscated had, after the restoration
of the House of Stuart, been given
back to the ancient proprietors. But much the
greater part was still held by English
emigrants under the guarantee of an
Act of Parliament. This act had been in force a
quarter of a century; and under it
mortgages, settlements, sales, and
leases without number had been made. The old Irish gentry
were scattered over the whole world.
Descendants of Milesian chieftains
swarmed in all the courts and camps of the Continent.
Those despoiled proprietors who still
remained in their native land,
brooded gloomily over their losses, pined for the opulence
and dignity of which they had been
deprived, and cherished wild hopes
of another revolution. A person of this class was described
by his countrymen as a gentleman who would
be rich if justice were done, as a
gentleman who had a fine estate if he could only
get it. He seldom betook himself to any
peaceful calling. Trade, indeed, he
thought a far more disgraceful resource than
marauding. Sometimes he turned freebooter.
Sometimes he contrived, in defiance
of the law, to live by coshering, that is
to say, by quartering himself on the old
tenants of his family, who,
wretched as was their own condition, could not refuse a
portion of their pittance to one whom they
still regarded as their rightful
lord. The native gentleman who had been so
fortunate as to keep or to regain some of
his land too often lived like the
petty prince of a savage tribe, and indemnified
himself for the humiliations which the
dominant race made him suffer by
governing his vassals despotically, by keeping a rude
haram, and by maddening or stupefying
himself daily with strong drink.
Politically he was insignificant. No statute, indeed,
excluded him from the House of Commons:
but he had almost as little chance
of obtaining a seat there as a man of colour has of
being chosen a Senator of the United
States. In fact only one Papist had
been returned to the Irish Parliament since the
Restoration. The whole legislative and
executive power was in the hands of
the colonists; and the ascendency of the ruling caste
was upheld by a standing army of seven
thousand men, on whose zeal for
what was called the English interest full reliance could
be placed.
On a close scrutiny it would have been
found that neither the Irishry nor
the Englishry formed a perfectly homogeneous body. The distinction
between those Irish who were of Celtic blood, and
those Irish who sprang from the followers
of Strong-bow and De Burgh, was not
altogether effaced. The Fitzes sometimes permitted
themselves to speak with scorn of the Os
and Macs; and the Os and Macs
sometimes repaid that scorn with aversion. In the preceding
generation one of the most powerful of the
O'Neills refused to pay any mark of
respect to a Roman Catholic gentleman of old
Norman descent. "They say that the family
has been here four hundred years.
No matter. I hate the clown as if he had come
yesterday." It seems, however, that such
feelings were rare, and that the
feud which had long raged between the aboriginal
Celts and the degenerate English had
nearly given place to the fiercer
feud which separated both races from the modern and
Protestant colony.
The colony had its own internal disputes,
both national and religious. The
majority was English; but a large minority came
from the south of Scotland. One half of
the settlers belonged to the
Established Church; the other half were Dissenters. But in
Ireland Scot and Southron were strongly
bound together by their common
Saxon origin. Churchman and Presbyterian were strongly
bound together by their common
Protestantism. All the colonists
had a common language and a common pecuniary interest. They were
surrounded by common enemies, and could be
safe only by means of common
precautions and exertions. The few penal laws, therefore,
which had been made in Ireland against
Protestant Nonconformists, were a
dead letter. The bigotry of the most sturdy churchman
would not bear exportation across St.
George's Channel. As soon as the
Cavalier arrived in Ireland, and found that, without the
hearty and courageous assistance of his
Puritan neighbours, he and all his
family would run imminent risk of being murdered by
Popish marauders, his hatred of
Puritanism, in spite of himself,
began to languish and die away. It was remarked by eminent men of
both parties that a Protestant who, in
Ireland, was called a high Tory
would in England have been considered as a moderate Whig.
The Protestant Nonconformists, on their
side, endured, with more patience
than could have been expected, the sight of the most
absurd ecclesiastical establishment that
the world has ever seen. Four
Archbishops and eighteen Bishops were employed in looking
after about a fifth part of the number of
churchmen who inhabited the single
diocese of London. Of the parochial clergy a large
proportion were pluralists and resided at
a distance from their cures. There
were some who drew from their benefices incomes of
little less than a thousand a year,
without ever performing any spiritual function. Yet this monstrous
institution was much less disliked
by the Puritans settled in Ireland than the Church of
England by the English sectaries. For in
Ireland religious divisions were
subordinate to national divisions; and the
Presbyterian, while, as a theologian, he
could not but condemn the
established hierarchy, yet looked on that hierarchy with a
sort of complacency when he considered it
as a sumptuous and ostentatious
trophy of the victory achieved by the great race
from which he sprang.
Thus the grievances of the Irish Roman
Catholic had hardly anything in
common with the grievances of the English Roman
Catholic. The Roman Catholic of Lancashire
or Staffordshire had only to turn
Protestant; and he was at once, in all respects, on
a level with his neighbours: but, if the
Roman Catholics of Munster and
Connaught had turned Protestants, they would still
have continued to be a subject people.
Whatever evils the Roman Catholic
suffered in England were the effects of harsh
legislation, and might have been remedied
by a more liberal legislation. But
between the two populations which inhabited
Ireland there was an inequality which
legislation had not caused and
could not remove. The dominion which one of those populations
exercised over the other was the dominion
of wealth over poverty, of
knowledge over ignorance, of civilised over uncivilised man.
James himself seemed, at the commencement
of his reign, to be perfectly aware
of these truths. The distractions of Ireland, he
said, arose, not from the differences
between the Catholics and the
Protestants, but from the differences between the Irish and
the English. The consequences which he
should have drawn from this just
proposition were sufficiently obvious; but unhappily
for himself and for Ireland he failed to
perceive them.
If only national animosity could be
allayed, there could be little
doubt that religious animosity, not being kept alive, as
in England, by cruel penal acts and
stringent test acts, would of
itself fade away. To allay a national animosity such as that
which the two races inhabiting Ireland
felt for each other could not be
the work of a few years. Yet it was a work to which a wise
and good prince might have contributed
much; and James would have
undertaken that work with advantages such as none of his
predecessors or successors possessed. At
once an Englishman and a Roman
Catholic, he belonged half to the ruling and half to the
subject caste, and was therefore
peculiarly qualified to be a
mediator between them. Nor is it difficult to trace the course which
he ought to have pursued. He ought to have determined that
the existing settlement of landed property
should be inviolable; and he ought
to have announced that determination in such a
manner as effectually to quiet the anxiety
of the new proprietors, and to
extinguish any wild hopes which the old
proprietors might entertain. Whether, in
the great transfer of estates,
injustice had or had not been committed, was immaterial.
That transfer, just or unjust, had taken
place so long ago, that to reverse
it would be to unfix the foundations of society. There
must be a time of limitation to all
rights. After thirty-five years of
actual possession, after twenty-five years of possession
solemnly guaranteed by statute, after
innumerable leases and releases,
mortgages and devises, it was too late to search for
flaws in titles. Nevertheless something
might have been done to heal the
lacerated feelings and to raise the fallen fortunes of
the Irish gentry. The colonists were in a
thriving condition. They had
greatly improved their property by building, planting,
and fencing. The rents had almost doubled
within a few years; trade was
brisk; and the revenue, amounting to about three
hundred thousand pounds a year, more than
defrayed all the charges of the
local government, and afforded a surplus which was
remitted to England. There was no doubt
that the next Parliament which
should meet at Dublin, though representing almost
exclusively the English interest, would,
in return for the King's promise to
maintain that interest in all its legal rights,
willingly grant to him a very considerable
sum for the purpose of
indemnifying, at least in part, such native families as had been
wrongfully despoiled. It was thus that in
our own time the French government
put an end to the disputes engendered by the most
extensive confiscation that ever took
place in Europe. And thus, if James
had been guided by the advice of his most loyal
Protestant counsellors, he would have at
least greatly mitigated one of the
chief evils which afflicted Ireland.
Having done this, he should have laboured
to reconcile the hostile races to
each other by impartially protecting the rights
and restraining the excesses of both. He
should have punished with equal
severity the native who indulged in the license of
barbarism, and the colonist who abused the
strength of civilisation. As far as
the legitimate authority of the crown
extended,--and in Ireland it extended
far,--no man who was qualified for
office by integrity and ability should have been
considered as disqualified by extraction
or by creed for any public trust.
It is probable that a Roman Catholic King, with an
ample revenue absolutely at his disposal,
would, without much difficulty, have secured the cooperation of the
Roman Catholic prelates and priests
in the great work of reconciliation. Much,
however, must still have been left to the
healing influence of time. The
native race would still have had to learn from the
colonists industry and forethought, the
arts of life, and the language of
England. There could not be equality between men who
lived in houses and men who lived in
sties, between men who were fed on
bread and men who were fed on potatoes, between men who
spoke the noble tongue of great
philosophers and poets and men who,
with a perverted pride, boasted that they could not writhe
their mouths into chattering such a jargon
as that in which the Advancement of
Learning and the Paradise Lost were written.
Yet it is not unreasonable to believe
that, if the gentle policy which
has been described had been steadily followed by the
government, all distinctions would
gradually have been effaced, and
that there would now have been no more trace of the hostility
which has been the curse of Ireland than
there is of the equally deadly
hostility which once raged between the Saxons and the
Normans in England.
Unhappily James, instead of becoming a
mediator became the fiercest and
most reckless of partisans. Instead of allaying the
animosity of the two populations, he
inflamed it to a height before
unknown. He determined to reverse their relative position,
and to put the Protestant colonists under
the feet of the Popish Celts. To be
of the established religion, to be of the English
blood, was, in his view, a
disqualification for civil and
military employment. He meditated the design of again
confiscating and again portioning out the
soil of half the island, and showed
his inclination so clearly that one class was
soon agitated by terrors which he
afterwards vainly wished to soothe,
and the other by hopes which he afterwards vainly wished
to restrain. But this was the smallest
part of his guilt and madness. He
deliberately resolved, not merely to give to the
aboriginal inhabitants of Ireland the
entire possession of their own
country, but also to use them as his instruments for setting
up arbitrary government in England. The
event was such as might have been
foreseen. The colonists turned to bay with the stubborn
hardihood of their race. The mother
country justly regarded their cause
as her own. Then came a desperate struggle for a tremendous
stake. Everything dear to nations was
wagered on both sides: nor can we
justly blame either the Irishman or the Englishman for
obeying, in that extremity, the law of
self-preservation. The contest was
terrible, but short. The weaker went down. His fate
was cruel; and yet for the cruelty with
which he was treated there was, not indeed a defence, but an excuse:
for, though he suffered all that
tyranny could inflict, he suffered nothing that
he would not himself have inflicted. The
effect of the insane attempt to
subjugate England by means of Ireland was that the
Irish became hewers of wood and drawers of
water to the English. The old
proprietors, by their effort to recover what they had
lost, lost the greater part of what they
had retained. The momentary
ascendency of Popery produced such a series of
barbarous laws against Popery as made the
statute book of Ireland a proverb
of infamy throughout Christendom. Such were the bitter
fruits of the policy of James.
We have seen that one of his first acts,
after he became King, was to recall
Ormond from Ireland. Ormond was the head of the
English interest in that kingdom: he was
firmly attached to the Protestant
religion; and his power far exceeded that of an
ordinary Lord Lieutenant, first, because
he was in rank and wealth the
greatest of the colonists, and, secondly, because he
was not only the chief of the civil
administration, but also commander
of the forces. The King was not at that time disposed
to commit the government wholly to Irish
hands. He had indeed been heard to
say that a native viceroy would soon become an
independent sovereign. For the present,
therefore, he determined to divide
the power which Ormond had possessed, to
entrust the civil administration to an
English and Protestant Lord
Lieutenant, and to give the command of the army to an Irish
and Roman Catholic General. The Lord
Lieutenant was Clarendon; the
General was Tyrconnel.
Tyrconnel sprang, as has already been
said, from one of those degenerate
families of the Pale which were popularly classed with
the aboriginal population of Ireland. He
sometimes, indeed, in his rants,
talked with Norman haughtiness of the Celtic
barbarians: but all his sympathies were
really with the natives. The
Protestant colonists he hated; and they returned his
hatred. Clarendon's inclinations were very
different: but he was, from temper,
interest, and principle, an obsequious courtier. His
spirit was mean; his circumstances were
embarrassed; and his mind had been
deeply imbued with the political doctrines which the
Church of England had in that age too
assiduously taught. His abilities,
however, were not contemptible; and, under a good
King, he would probably have been a
respectable viceroy.
About three quarters of a year elapsed
between the recall of Ormond and
the arrival of Clarendon at Dublin. During that interval the King was
represented by a board of Lords Justices:
but the military administration was in
Tyrconnel's hands. Already the
designs of the court began gradually to unfold themselves. A
royal order came from Whitehall for
disarming the population. This
order Tyrconnel strictly executed as respected the English.
Though the country was infested by
predatory bands, a Protestant
gentleman could scarcely obtain permission to keep a brace of
pistols. The native peasantry, on the
other hand, were suffered to retain
their weapons. The joy of the colonists was
therefore great, when at length, in
December 1685, Tyrconnel was
summoned to London and Clarendon set out for Dublin. But it soon
appeared that the government was really
directed, not at Dublin, but in
London. Every mail that crossed St. George's Channel
brought tidings of the boundless influence
which Tyrconnel exercised on Irish
affairs. It was said that he was to be a
Marquess, that he was to be a Duke, that
he was to have the command of the
forces, that he was to be entrusted with the task
of remodelling the army and the courts of
justice. Clarendon was bitterly
mortified at finding himself a subordinate in
ember of that administration of which he
had expected to be the head. He
complained that whatever he did was misrepresented by
his detractors, and that the gravest
resolutions touching the country
which he governed were adopted at Westminster, made known
to the public, discussed at coffee houses,
communicated in hundreds of private
letters, some weeks before one hint had been
given to the Lord Lieutenant. His own
personal dignity, he said, mattered
little: but it was no light thing that the
representative of the majesty of the
throne should be made an object of
contempt to the people. Panic spread fast among the
English when they found that the viceroy,
their fellow countryman and fellow
Protestant, was unable to extend to them the
protection which they had expected from
him. They began to know by bitter
experience what it is to be a subject caste. They were
harassed by the natives with accusations
of treason and sedition. This
Protestant had corresponded with Monmouth: that Protestant
had said something disrespectful of the
King four or five years ago, when
the Exclusion Bill was under discussion; and the
evidence of the most infamous of mankind
was ready to substantiate every
charge. The Lord Lieutenant expressed his
apprehension that, if these practices were
not stopped, there would soon be at
Dublin a reign of terror similar to that which
he had seen in London, when every man held
his life and honour at the mercy of
Oates and Bedloe.
Clarendon was soon informed, by a concise
despatch from Sunderland, that it had been resolved to make without
delay a complete change in both the
civil and the military government of
Ireland, and to bring a large number of
Roman Catholics instantly into
office. His Majesty, it was most ungraciously added, had
taken counsel on these matters with
persons more competent to advise
him than his inexperienced Lord Lieutenant could possibly
be.
Before this letter reached the viceroy the
intelligence which it contained
had, through many channels, arrived in Ireland. The
terror of the colonists was extreme.
Outnumbered as they were by the
native population, their condition would be pitiable indeed
if the native population were to be armed
against them with the whole power
of the state; and nothing less than this was
threatened. The English inhabitants of
Dublin passed each other in the
streets with dejected looks. On the Exchange business was
suspended. Landowners hastened to sell
their estates for whatever could be
got, and to remit the purchase money to England. Traders
began to call in their debts and to make
preparations for retiring from
business. The alarm soon affected the revenue.
Clarendon attempted to inspire the
dismayed settlers with a confidence
which he was himself far from feeling. He assured them
that their property would be held sacred,
and that, to his certain knowledge,
the King was fully determined to maintain the
act of settlement which guaranteed their
right to the soil. But his letters
to England were in a very different strain. He
ventured even to expostulate with the
King, and, without blaming His
Majesty's intention of employing Roman Catholics, expressed a
strong opinion that the Roman Catholics
who might be employed should be
Englishmen.
The reply of James was dry and cold. He
declared that he had no intention
of depriving the English colonists of their land, but
that he regarded a large portion of them
as his enemies, and that, since he
consented to leave so much property in the hands
of his enemies, it was the more necessary
that the civil and military
administration should be in the hands of his friends.
Accordingly several Roman Catholics were
sworn of the Privy Council; and
orders were sent to corporations to admit Roman
Catholics to municipal advantages. Many
officers of the army were
arbitrarily deprived of their commissions and of their
bread. It was to no purpose that the Lord
Lieutenant pleaded the cause of
some whom he knew to be good soldiers and loyal
subjects. Among them were old Cavaliers,
who had fought bravely for monarchy, and who bore the marks of
honourable wounds. Their places
were supplied by men who had no recommendation but their
religion. Of the new Captains and
Lieutenants, it was said, some had
been cow-herds, some footmen, some noted marauders; some had
been so used to wear brogues that they
stumbled and shuffled about
strangely in their military jack boots. Not a few of the
officers who were discarded took refuge in
the Dutch service, and enjoyed,
four years later, the pleasure of driving their
successors before them in ignominious rout
through the waters of the Boyne.
The distress and alarm of Clarendon were
increased by news which reached him
through private channels. Without his approbation,
without his knowledge, preparations were
making for arming and drilling the
whole Celtic population of the country of which he
was the nominal governor. Tyrconnel from
London directed the design; and the
prelates of his Church were his agents. Every
priest had been instructed to prepare an
exact list of all his male
parishioners capable of bearing arms, and to forward it to
his Bishop.
It had already been rumoured that
Tyrconnel would soon return to
Dublin armed with extraordinary and independent powers; and the
rumour gathered strength daily. The Lord
Lieutenant, whom no insult could
drive to resign the pomp and emoluments of his
place, declared that he should submit
cheerfully to the royal pleasure,
and approve himself in all things a faithful and
obedient subject. He had never, he said,
in his life, had any difference
with Tyrconnel, and he trusted that no difference
would now arise. Clarendon appears not to
have recollected that there had
once been a plot to ruin the fame of his innocent
sister, and that in that plot Tyrconnel
had borne a chief part. This is not
exactly one of the injuries which high spirited men
most readily pardon. But, in the wicked
court where the Hydes had long been
pushing their fortunes, such injuries were easily
forgiven and forgotten, not from
magnanimity or Christian charity,
but from mere baseness and want of moral sensibility. In
June 1686, Tyrconnel came. His commission
authorised him only to command the
troops, but he brought with him royal instructions
touching all parts of
the administration, and at once took the
real government of the island into
his own hands. On the day after his arrival he
explicitly said that commissions must be
largely given to Roman Catholic
officers, and that room must be made for them by
dismissing more Protestants. He pushed on
the remodelling of the army eagerly and indefatigably. It was indeed
the only part of the functions of a
Commander in Chief which he was competent to
perform; for, though courageous in brawls
and duels, he knew nothing of
military duty. At the very first review which he held,
it was evident to all who were near to him
that he did not know how to draw up
a regiment. To turn Englishmen out and to put
Irishmen in was, in his view, the
beginning and the end of the
administration of war. He had the insolence to cashier the
Captain of the Lord Lieutenant's own Body
Guard: nor was Clarendon aware of
what had happened till he saw a Roman
Catholic, whose face was quite unknown to
him, escorting the state coach. The
change was not confined to the officers
alone. The ranks were completely broken up
and recomposed. Four or five
hundred soldiers were turned out of a single regiment
chiefly on the ground that they were below
the proper stature. Yet the most
unpractised eye at once perceived that they were
taller and better made men than their
successors, whose wild and squalid
appearance disgusted the beholders. Orders were given
to the new officers that no man of the
Protestant religion was to be
suffered to enlist. The recruiting parties, instead of beating
their drums for volunteers at fairs and
markets, as had been the old
practice, repaired to places to which the Roman Catholics
were in the habit of making pilgrimages
for purposes of devotion. In a few
weeks the General had introduced more than two thousand
natives into the ranks; and the people
about him confidently affirmed that
by Christmas day not a man of English race would be
left in the whole army.
On all questions which arose in the Privy
Council, Tyrconnel showed similar
violence and partiality. John Keating, Chief
Justice of the Common Pleas, a man
distinguished by ability,
integrity, and loyalty, represented with great mildness that
perfect equality was all that the General
could reasonably ask for his own
Church. The King, he said, evidently meant that no
man fit for public trust should be
excluded because he was a Roman
Catholic, and that no man unfit for public trust should be
admitted because he was a Protestant.
Tyrconnel immediately began to
curse and swear. "I do not know what to say to that; I would
have all Catholics in." The most judicious
Irishmen of his own religious
persuasion were dismayed at his rashness, and ventured
to remonstrate with him; but he drove them
from him with imprecations. His
brutality was such that many thought him
mad. Yet it was less strange than the
shameless volubility with which he
uttered falsehoods. He had long before earned the
nickname of Lying Dick Talbot; and, at
Whitehall, any wild fiction was commonly designated as one of Dick
Talbot's truths. He now daily
proved that he was well entitled to this unenviable
reputation. Indeed in him mendacity was
almost a disease. He would, after
giving orders for the dismission of English
officers, take them into his closet,
assure them of his confidence and
friendship, and implore heaven to confound him, sink him,
blast him, if he did not take good care of
their interests. Sometimes those to
whom he had thus perjured himself learned,
before the day closed, that he had
cashiered them.
On his arrival, though he swore savagely
at the Act of Settlement, and
called the English interest a foul thing, a
roguish thing, and a damned thing, he yet
intended to be convinced that the
distribution of property could not, after the
lapse of so many years, be altered. But,
when he had been a few weeks at
Dublin, his language changed. He began to harangue
vehemently at the Council board on the
necessity of giving back the land
to the old owners. He had not, however, as yet, obtained
his master's sanction to this fatal
project. National feeling still
struggled feebly against superstition in the mind of James.
He was an Englishman: he was an English
King; and he could not, without
some misgivings, consent to the destruction of the
greatest colony that England had ever
planted. The English Roman
Catholics with whom he was in the habit of taking counsel were
almost unanimous in favour of the Act of
Settlement. Not only the honest and
moderate Powis, but the dissolute and headstrong
Dover, gave judicious and patriotic
advice. Tyrconnel could hardly hope
to counteract at a distance the effect which such
advice must produce on the royal mind. He
determined to plead the cause of
his caste in person; and accordingly he set out, at the
end of August, for England.
His presence and his absence were equally
dreaded by the Lord Lieutenant. It
was, indeed, painful to be daily browbeaten by an
enemy: but it was not less painful to know
that an enemy was daily breathing
calumny and evil counsel in the royal ear.
Clarendon was overwhelmed by manifold
vexations. He made a progress
through the country, and found that he was everywhere
treated by the Irish population with
contempt. The Roman Catholic
priests exhorted their congregations to withhold from him all
marks of honour. The native gentry,
instead of coming to pay their
respects to him, remained at their houses. The native
peasantry everywhere sang Erse songs in
praise of Tyrconnel, who would,
they doubted not, soon reappear to complete the
humiliation of their oppressors. The
viceroy had scarcely returned to Dublin, from his unsatisfactory tour,
when he received letters which
informed him that he had incurred the
King's serious displeasure. His
Majesty--so these letters ran--
expected his servants not only to do what he commanded, but to do
it from the heart, and with a cheerful
countenance. The Lord Lieutenant
had not, indeed, refused to cooperate in the reform of
the army and of the civil administration;
but his cooperation had been
reluctant and perfunctory: his looks had betrayed his
feelings; and everybody saw that he
disapproved of the policy which he
was employed to carry into effect. In great anguish
of mind he wrote to defend himself; but he
was sternly told that his defence
was not satisfactory. He then, in the most abject
terms, declared that he would not attempt
to justify himself, that he
acquiesced in the royal judgment, be it what it might,
that he prostrated himself in the dust,
that he implored pardon, that of
all penitents he was the most sincere, that he should
think it glorious to die in his
Sovereign's cause, but found it
impossible to live under his Sovereign's displeasure. Nor was
this mere interested hypocrisy, but, at
least in part, unaffected
slavishness and poverty of spirit; for in confidential letters,
not meant for the royal eye, he bemoaned
himself to his family in the same
strain. He was miserable; he was crushed; the wrath of
the King was insupportable; if that wrath
could not be mitigated, life would
not be worth having. The poor man's terror
increased when he learned that it had been
determined at Whitehall to recall
him, and to appoint, as his successor, his
rival and calumniator, Tyrconnel. Then for
a time the prospect seemed to
clear; the King was in better humour; and during a few
days Clarendon flattered himself that his
brother's intercession had
prevailed, and that the crisis was passed.
In truth the crisis was only beginning.
While Clarendon was trying to lean
on Rochester, Rochester was unable longer to
support himself. As in Ireland the elder
brother, though retaining the guard
of honour, the sword of state, and the title
of Excellency, had really been superseded
by the Commander of the Forces, so
in England, the younger brother, though holding the
white staff, and walking, by virtue of his
high office, before the greatest
hereditary nobles, was fast sinking into a mere
financial clerk. The Parliament was again
prorogued to a distant day, in
opposition to the Treasurer's known wishes. He was not
even told that there was to be another
prorogation, but was left to learn
the news from the Gazette. The real direction of affairs
had passed to the cabal which dined with
Sunderland on Fridays. The cabinet
met only to hear the despatches from foreign courts read: nor did
those despatches contain anything which was not
known on the Royal Exchange; for all the
English Envoys had received orders
to put into the official letters only the common
talk of antechambers, and to reserve
important secrets for private
communications which were addressed to James himself, to
Sunderland, or to Petre. Yet the
victorious faction was not content.
The King was assured by those whom he most trusted that
the obstinacy with which the nation
opposed his designs was really to
be imputed to Rochester. How could the people believe
that their Sovereign was unalterably
resolved to persevere in the course
on which he had entered, when they saw at his right hand,
ostensibly first in power and trust among
his counsellors, a man who
notoriously regarded that course with strong disapprobation?
Every step which had been taken with the
object of humbling the Church of
England, and of elevating the Church of Rome, had been
opposed by the Treasurer. True it was
that, when he had found opposition
vain, he had gloomily submitted, nay, that he had
sometimes even assisted in carrying into
effect the very plans against which
he had most earnestly contended. True it was that,
though he disliked the Ecclesiastical
Commission, he had consented to be
a Commissioner. True it was that he had, while
declaring that he could see nothing
blamable in the conduct of the
Bishop of London, voted sullenly and reluctantly for the
sentence of deprivation. But this was not
enough. A prince, engaged in an
enterprise so important and arduous as that on
which James was bent, had a right to
expect from his first minister, not
unwilling and ungracious acquiescence, but zealous
and strenuous cooperation. While such
advice was daily given to James by
those in whom he reposed confidence, he received, by the
penny post, many anonymous letters filled
with calumnies against the Lord
Treasurer. This mode of attack had been contrived by
Tyrconnel, and was in perfect harmony with
every part of his infamous life.
The King hesitated. He seems, indeed, to
have really regarded his brother in
law with personal kindness, the effect of near
affinity, of long and familiar
intercourse, and of many mutual
good offices. It seemed probable that, as long as Rochester
continued to submit himself, though
tardily and with murmurs, to the
royal pleasure, he would continue to be in name prime
minister. Sunderland, therefore, with
exquisite cunning, suggested to his
master the propriety of asking the only proof of
obedience which it was quite certain that
Rochester never would give. At
present,--such was the language of the artful
Secretary,--it was impossible to consult
with the first of the King's servants respecting the object nearest to
the King's heart. It was lamentable
to think that religious prejudices
should, at such a conjuncture, deprive the government of such
valuable assistance. Perhaps those
prejudices might not prove
insurmountable. Then the deceiver whispered that, to his
knowledge, Rochester had of late had some
misgivings about the points in
dispute between the Protestants and Catholics. This
was enough. The King eagerly caught at the
hint. He began to flatter himself
that he might at once escape from the
disagreeable necessity of removing a
friend, and secure an able
coadjutor for the great work which was in progress. He was also
elated by the hope that he might have the
merit and the glory of saving a
fellow creature from perdition. He seems, indeed, about
this time, to have been seized with an
unusually violent fit of zeal for
his religion; and this is the more remarkable, because
he had just relapsed, after a short
interval of selfrestraint, into
debauchery which all Christian divines condemn as sinful,
and which, in an elderly man married to an
agreeable young wife, is regarded
even by people of the world as disreputable. Lady
Dorchester had returned from Dublin, and
was again the King's mistress. Her
return was politically of no importance. She had
learned by experience the folly of
attempting to save her lover from
the destruction to which he was running headlong. She
therefore suffered the Jesuits to guide
his political conduct and they, in
return, suffered her to wheedle him out of money; She
was, however, only one of several
abandoned women who at this time
shared, with his beloved Church, the dominion over his
mind.194 He seems to have determined to
make some amends for neglecting the
welfare of his own soul by taking care of the
souls of others. He set himself,
therefore, to labour, with real
good will, but with the good will of a coarse, stern, and
arbitrary mind, for the conversion of his
kinsman. Every audience which the
Treasurer obtained was spent in arguments about the
authority of the Church and the worship of
images. Rochester was firmly
resolved not to abjure his religion; but he had no scruple
about employing in selfdefence artifices
as discreditable as those which had
been used against him. He affected to speak like
a man whose mind was not made up,
professed himself desirous to be
enlightened if he was in error, borrowed Popish books, and
listened with civility to Popish divines.
He had several interviews with
Leyburn, the Vicar Apostolic, with Godden, the
chaplain and almoner of the Queen Dowager,
and with Bonaventure Giffard, a
theologian trained to polemics in the schools of
Douay. It was agreed that there should be
a formal disputation between these
doctors and some Protestant clergymen. The King told Rochester to
choose any ministers of the Established Church,
with two exceptions. The proscribed
persons were Tillotson and
Stillingfleet. Tillotson, the most popular preacher of that age,
and in manners the most inoffensive of
men, had been much connected with
some leading Whigs; and Stillingfleet, who was
renowned as a consummate master of all the
weapons of controversy, had given
still deeper offence by publishing an
answer to the papers which had been found
in the strong box of Charles the
Second. Rochester took the two royal chaplains who
happened to be in waiting. One of them was
Simon Patrick, whose commentaries
on the Bible still form a part of theological
libraries; the other was Jane, a vehement
Tory, who had assisted in drawing
up that decree by which the University of Oxford had
solemnly adopted the worst follies of
Filmer. The conference took place
at Whitehall on the thirtieth of November. Rochester, who
did not wish it to be known that he had
even consented to hear the
arguments of Popish priests, stipulated for secrecy. No
auditor was suffered to be present except
the King. The subject discussed was
the real presence. The Roman Catholic divines took
on themselves the burden of the proof.
Patrick and Jane said little; nor
was it necessary that they should say much; for the
Earl himself undertook to defend the
doctrine of his Church, and, as was
his habit, soon warmed with conflict, lost his temper, and
asked with great vehemence whether it was
expected that he should change his
religion on such frivolous grounds. Then he remembered
how much he was risking, began again to
dissemble, complimented the
disputants on their skill and learning, and asked time to
consider what had been said.
Slow as James was, he could not but see
that this was mere trifling. He
told Barillon that Rochester's language was not that
of a man honestly desirous of arriving at
the truth. Still the King did not
like to propose directly to his brother in law the
simple choice, apostasy or dismissal: but,
three days after the conference,
Barillon waited on the Treasurer, and, with much
circumlocution and many expressions of
friendly concern, broke the
unpleasant truth. "Do you mean," said Rochester, bewildered
by the involved and ceremonious phrases in
which the intimation was made,
"that, if I do not turn Catholic, the consequence will
be that I shall lose my place?" "I say
nothing about consequences,"
answered the wary diplomatist. "I only come as a
friend to express a hope that you will
take care to keep your place." "But
surely," said Rochester, "the plain meaning of all
this is that I must turn Catholic or go
out." He put many questions for the
purpose of ascertaining whether the communication was made by
authority, but could extort only vague
and mysterious replies. At last, affecting
a confidence which he was far from
feeling, he declared that Barillon must have been
imposed upon by idle or malicious reports.
"I tell you," he said, "that the
King will not dismiss me, and I will not resign. I know
him: he knows me; and I fear nobody." The
Frenchman answered that he was
charmed, that he was ravished to hear it, and that his
only motive for interfering was a sincere
anxiety for the prosperity and
dignity of his excellent friend the Treasurer. And
thus the two statesmen parted, each
flattering himself that he had
duped the other.
Meanwhile, in spite of all injunctions of
secrecy, the news that the Lord
Treasurer had consented to be instructed in the
doctrines of Popery had spread fast
through London. Patrick and Jane
had been seen going in at that mysterious door which led to
Chiffinch's apartments. Some Roman
Catholics about the court had,
indiscreetly or artfully, told all, and more than all, that they
knew. The Tory churchmen waited anxiously
for fuller information. They were
mortified to think that their leader should even have
pretended to waver in his opinion; but
they could not believe that he
would stoop to be a renegade. The unfortunate minister,
tortured at once by his fierce passions
and his low desires, annoyed by the
censures of the public, annoyed by the hints which
he had received from Barillon, afraid of
losing character, afraid of losing
office, repaired to the royal closet. He was determined
to keep his place, if it could be kept by
any villany but one. He would
pretend to be shaken in his religious opinions, and to be
half a convert: he would promise to give
strenuous support to that policy
which he had hitherto opposed: but, if he were driven
to extremity, he would refuse to change
his religion. He began, therefore,
by telling the King that the business in which His
Majesty took so much interest was not
sleeping, that Jane and Giffard
were engaged in consulting books on the points in dispute
between the Churches, and that, when these
researches were over, it would be
desirable to have another conference. Then he
complained bitterly that all the town was
apprised of what ought to have been
carefully concealed, and that some persons, who,
from their station, might be supposed to
be well informed, reported strange
things as to the royal intentions. "It is
whispered," he said, "that, if I do not do
as your Majesty would have me, I
shall not be suffered to continue in my present
station." The King said, with some general
expressions of kindness, that it
was difficult to prevent people from talking,
and that loose reports were not to be
regarded. These vague phrases were not likely to quiet the perturbed
mind of the minister. His agitation
became violent, and he began to plead for
his place as if he had been pleading for
his life. "Your Majesty sees that I
do all in my power to obey you. Indeed I will do all
that I can to obey you in every thing. I
will serve you in your own way.
Nay," he cried, in an agony of baseness, "I will do what
I can to believe as you would have me. But
do not let me be told, while I am
trying to bring my mind to this, that, if I find it
impossible to comply, I must lose all. For
I must needs tell your Majesty that
there are other considerations." "Oh, you must
needs," exclaimed the King, with an oath.
For a single word of honest and
manly sound, escaping in the midst of all this abject
supplication, was sufficient to move his
anger. "I hope, sir," said poor
Rochester, "that I do not offend you. Surely your
Majesty could not think well of me if I
did not say so." The King
recollected himself protested that he was not offended, and
advised the Treasurer to disregard idle
rumours, and to confer again with
Jane and Giffard.
After this conversation, a fortnight
elapsed before the decisive blow
fell. That fortnight Rochester passed in intriguing and
imploring. He attempted to interest in his
favour those Roman Catholics who
had the greatest influence at court. He could not,
he said, renounce his own religion: but,
with that single reservation, he
would do all that they could desire. Indeed, if
he might only keep his place, they should
find that he could be more useful
to them as a Protestant than as one of their own
communion. His wife, who was on a sick
bed, had already, it was said,
solicited the honour of a visit from the much injured
Queen, and had attempted to work on Her
Majesty's feelings of compassion.
But the Hydes abased themselves in vain. Petre
regarded them with peculiar malevolence,
and was bent on their ruin. On the
evening of the seventeenth of December the Earl
was called into the royal closet. James
was unusually discomposed, and even
shed tears. The occasion, indeed, could not
but call up some recollections which might
well soften even a hard heart. He
expressed his regret that his duty made it
impossible for him to indulge his private
partialities. It was absolutely
necessary, he said, that those who had the chief
direction of his affairs should partake
his opinions and feelings. He owned
that he had very great personal obligations to
Rochester, and that no fault could be
found with the way in which the
financial business had lately been done: but the office of
Lord Treasurer was of such high importance
that, in general, it ought not to
be entrusted to a single person, and could not safely be entrusted by
a Roman Catholic King to a person zealous
for the Church of England. "Think better
of it, my Lord," he continued.
"Read again the papers from my brother's box. I will
give you a little more time for
consideration, if you desire it."
Rochester saw that all was over, and that the wisest course left
to him was to make his retreat with as
much money and as much credit as
possible. He succeeded in both objects. He obtained a
pension of four thousand pounds a year for
two lives on the post office. He
had made great sums out of the estates of traitors,
and carried with him in particular Grey's
bond for forty thousand pounds, and
a grant of all the estate which the crown had in
Grey's extensive property.201 No person
had ever quitted office on terms so
advantageous. To the applause of the sincere friends
of the Established Church Rochester had,
indeed, very slender claims. To
save his place he had sate in that tribunal which had
been illegally created for the purpose of
persecuting her. To save his place
he had given a dishonest vote for degrading one of
her most eminent ministers, had affected
to doubt her orthodoxy, had
listened with the outward show of docility to teachers who
called her schismatical and heretical, and
had offered to cooperate
strenuously with her deadliest enemies in their designs
against her. The highest praise to which
he was entitled was this, that he
had shrunk from the exceeding wickedness and
baseness of publicly abjuring, for lucre,
the religion in which he had been
brought up, which he believed to be true, and of
which he had long made an ostentatious
profession. Yet he was extolled by
the great body of Churchmen as if he had been the
bravest and purest of martyrs. The Old and
New Testaments, the Martyrologies
of Eusebius and of Fox, were ransacked to find
parallels for his heroic piety. He was
Daniel in the den of lions,
Shadrach in the fiery furnace, Peter in the dungeon of
Herod, Paul at the bar of Nero, Ignatius
in the amphitheatre, Latimer at the
stake. Among the many facts which prove that the
standard of honour and virtue among the
public men of that age was low, the
admiration excited by Rochester's constancy is,
perhaps, the most decisive.
In his fall he dragged down Clarendon. On
the seventh of January 1687, the
Gazette announced to the people of London that the
Treasury was put into commission. On the
eighth arrived at Dublin a despatch
formally signifying that in a month Tyrconnel would
assume the government of Ireland. It was
not without great difficulty that
this man had surmounted the numerous impediments
which stood in the way of his ambition. It
was well known that the
extermination of the English colony in Ireland was the object on which
his heart was set. He had, therefore, to overcome some
scruples in the royal mind. He had to
surmount the opposition, not merely
of all the Protestant members of the government, not
merely of the moderate and respectable
heads of the Roman Catholic body,
but even of several members of the jesuitical
cabal. Sunderland shrank from the thought
of an Irish revolution, religious,
political, and social. To the Queen
Tyrconnel was personally an object of aversion. Powis was
therefore suggested as the man best
qualified for the viceroyalty. He
was of illustrious birth: he was a sincere Roman
Catholic: and yet he was generally allowed
by candid Protestants to be an
honest man and a good Englishman. All opposition,
however, yielded to Tyrconnel's energy and
cunning. He fawned, bullied, and
bribed indefatigably. Petre's help was secured by
flattery. Sunderland was plied at once
with promises and menaces. An
immense price was offered for his support, no less than an
annuity of five thousand pounds a year
from Ireland, redeemable by payment
of fifty thousand pounds down. If this proposal were
rejected, Tyrconnel threatened to let the
King know that the Lord President
had, at the Friday dinners, described His Majesty as a
fool who must be governed either by a
woman or by a priest. Sunderland,
pale and trembling, offered to procure for Tyrconnel
supreme military command, enormous
appointments, anything but the
viceroyalty: but all compromise was rejected; and it was
necessary to yield. Mary of Modena herself
was not free from suspicion of
corruption. There was in London a renowned chain of
pearls which was valued at ten thousand
pounds. It had belonged to Prince
Rupert; and by him it had been left to Margaret Hughes,
a courtesan who, towards the close of his
life, had exercised a boundless
empire over him. Tyrconnel loudly boasted that with
this chain he had purchased the support of
the Queen. There were those,
however, who suspected that this story was one of Dick
Talbot's truths, and that it had no more
foundation than the calumnies
which, twenty-six years before, he had invented to
blacken the fame of Anne Hyde. To the
Roman Catholic courtiers generally
he spoke of the uncertain tenure by which they held
offices, honours, and emoluments. The King
might die tomorrow, and might leave
them at the mercy of a hostile government and a
hostile rabble. But, if the old faith
could be made dominant in Ireland,
if the Protestant interest in that country could be
destroyed, there would still be, in the
worst event, an asylum at hand to
which they might retreat, and where they might either
negotiate or defend themselves with
advantage. A Popish priest was
hired with the promise of the mitre of Waterford to preach at
Saint James's against the Act of
Settlement; and his sermon, though heard with deep disgust by the
English part of the auditory, was
not without its effect. The struggle which
patriotism had for a time maintained
against bigotry in the royal mind
was at an end. "There is work to be done in Ireland," said
James, "which no Englishman will do."
All obstacles were at length removed; and
in February 1687, Tyrconnel began
to rule his native country with the power and
appointments of Lord Lieutenant, but with
the humbler title of Lord Deputy.
His arrival spread dismay through the
whole English population. Clarendon
was accompanied, or speedily followed, across St.
George's Channel, by a large proportion of
the most respectable inhabitants of
Dublin, gentlemen, tradesmen, and artificers. It
was said that fifteen hundred families
emigrated in a few days. The panic
was not unreasonable. The work of putting the colonists
down under the feet of the natives went
rapidly on. In a short time almost
every Privy Councillor, Judge, Sheriff, Mayor,
Alderman, and Justice of the Peace was a
Celt and a Roman Catholic. It
seemed that things would soon be ripe for a general
election, and that a House of Commons bent
on abrogating the Act of Settlement
would easily be assembled. Those who had lately
been the lords of the island now cried
out, in the bitterness of their
souls, that they had become a prey and a laughingstock to
their own serfs and menials; that houses
were burnt and cattle stolen with
impunity; that the new soldiers roamed the country,
pillaging, insulting, ravishing, maiming,
tossing one Protestant in a
blanket, tying up another by the hair and scourging him;
that to appeal to the law was vain; that
Irish Judges, Sheriffs, juries, and
witnesses were all in a league to save Irish
criminals; and that, even without an Act
of Parliament, the whole soil would
soon change hands; for that, in every action of
ejectment tried under the administration
of Tyrconnel, judgment had been
given for the native against the Englishman.
While Clarendon was at Dublin the Privy
Seal had been in the hands of
Commissioners. His friends hoped that it would, on his
return to London, be again delivered to
him. But the King and the
Jesuitical cabal had determined that the disgrace of the Hydes
should be complete. Lord Arundell of
Wardour, a Roman Catholic, received
the Privy Seal. Bellasyse, a Roman Catholic, was made
First Lord of the Treasury; and Dover,
another Roman Catholic, had a seat
at the board. The appointment of a ruined gambler to
such a trust would alone have sufficed to
disgust the public.
The dissolute Etherege, who then resided
at Ratisbon as English
envoy, could not refrain from expressing,
with a sneer, his hope
that his old boon companion, Dover, would
keep the King's money
better than his own. In order that the
finances might not be
ruined by incapable and inexperienced
Papists, the obsequious,
diligent and silent Godolphin was named a
Commissioner of the
Treasury, but continued to be Chamberlain to
the Queen.
The
dismission of the two brothers is a great epoch in the reign
of James. From that time it was clear that
what he really wanted
was not liberty of conscience for the
members of his own church,
but liberty to persecute the members of
other churches.
Pretending to abhor tests, he had himself
imposed a test. He
thought it hard, he thought it monstrous,
that able and loyal men
should be excluded from the public service
solely for being Roman
Catholics. Yet he had himself turned out of
office a Treasurer,
whom he admitted to be both loyal and able,
solely for being a
Protestant. The cry was that a general
proscription was at hand,
and that every public functionary must make
up his mind to lose
his soul or to lose his place. Who indeed
could hope to stand
where the Hydes had fallen? They were the
brothers in law of the
King, the uncles and natural guardians of
his children, his
friends from early youth, his steady
adherents in adversity and
peril, his obsequious servants since he had
been on the throne.
Their sole crime was their religion; and for
this crime they had
been discarded. In great perturbation men
began to look round for
help; and soon all eyes were fixed on one
whom a rare concurrence
both of personal qualities and of fortuitous
circumstances
pointed out as the deliverer.