This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Gemma Blythe. The history of England from the accession of James II by Thomas Babbington Macaulay. Chapter 6 Part 16. Scarcely indeed had the encampment been formed when there were rumors of quarrels between the Protestant and Popish soldiers. A little tract entitled A Humble and Hardly Address to All English Protestants in the Army had been actively circulated through the ranks. The writer vehemently exhorted the troops to use their arms in defense, not of the mass book, but of the Bible, of the great charter, and of the petition of right. He was a man already under the frown of power. His character was remarkable and his history not uninstructive. His name was Samuel Johnson. He was a priest of the Church of England and had been chaplained to Lord Russell. Johnson was one of those persons who are mortally aided by their opponents and less loved than respected by their allies. His morals were pure, his religious feelings ardent, his learning and abilities not contemptible, his judgment weak, his temper acrimonious, turbulent and unconquerably stubborn. His profession made him peculiarly odious to the zealous supporters of monarchy. For a republic in holy orders was a strange and almost an unnatural being. During the late reign Johnson had published a book entitled Julian the Apostate. The object of this work was to show that the Christians of the fourth century did not hold the doctrine of non-resistance. It was easy to produce passages from chrysotum and Jerome, written in a spirit very different from that of the Anglican divines who reached against the exclusion bill. Johnson however went further. He attempted to revive the odious imputation which had, for very obvious reasons, been thrown by Labanius on the Christian soldiers of Julian and insinuated that the dart which slew the imperial renegade came not from the enemy, but from some rumbled, or focusing on the Roman ranks. A heart-controversy followed. Whig and Dorei disputants wrangled fiercely about an obscure passage in which Gregory of Nazion says praises a pious bishop who was going to bastonado somebody. The Whigs maintained that the holy man was going to bastonado the emperor. The Dorei is that, at the worst, he was only going to bastonado a captain of the god. Johnson prepared a reply to his assailants in which he drew an elaborate parallel between Julian and James, then Duke of York. Julian had, during many years, pretended to abhor idolatry, all in art and idolatry. Julian had to serve a turn, occasionally affected respect for the rights of conscience. Julian had punished cities which were zealous for the true religion by taking away their municipal privileges. Julian had by his flatterers been called the Just. James was provoked beyond endurance. Johnson was prosecuted for a libel, convicted and condemned to a fine which he had no means of paying. He was therefore kept in jail, and it seemed likely that his confinement would end only with his life. Over the room which he occupied in the King's Bench Prison, lodged another offender whose character well deserves to be studied. This was Hugh Speak, a young man of good family and of a singularly base and depraved nature. His love of mischief and of dark and crooked ways amounted almost to madness. Took all his confusion without being found out was his business and his pastime. And he had a rare skill in using honest enthusiasts as the instruments of his cold-blooded malice. He had attempted, by means of one of his puppets, to fasten on Charles and James the crime of murdering Essex in the tower. On this occasion the agency of Speak had been traced, and though he succeeded in throwing the greater part of the blame on his dupe, he had not escaped with impunity. He was now a prisoner, but his fortune enabled him to live with comfort, and he was under so little restraint that he was able to keep up regular communication with one of his confederates who managed a secret press. Johnson was the very man for Speak's purposes, zealous and intrepid, a scholar and a practiced controversialist, yet as simple as a child. A close intimacy sprang up between the two fellow prisoners. Johnson wrote a succession of bitter and vehement treatises which Speak conveyed to the printer. When the camp was formed at Hounslow, Speak urged Johnson to compose an address which might excite the troops to mutiny. The paper was instantly drawn up. Many thousands of copies were struck off and brought to Speak's room, once they were distributed over the whole country and especially among the soldiers. A milder government than that which had then ruled England would have been moved to high resentment by such a provocation. Strict search was made. A subordinate agent who had been employed to circulate the address saved himself by giving up Johnson, and Johnson was not the man to save himself by giving up Speak. An information was filed and a conviction obtained without difficulty. Julian Johnson, as he was popularly called, was sentenced to stand thrice on the Bellary and to be whipped from Newgate to Tyburn. The judge, Sir Francis Withins, told the criminal to be thankful for the great lenity of the attorney general who might have treated the case as one of high treason. I owe him no thanks, answered Johnson dauntlessly. Am I, whose only crime is that I have defended the church and the laws, to be grateful for being scourged like a dog, while popish scribblers are suffered daily to insult the church and to violate the laws, with impunity, the energy with which he spoke, was such that both the judges and the crown lawyers thought it necessary to vindicate themselves and protested that they knew of no popish publications such as those. To which the prisoner alluded, he instantly drew from his pockets some Roman Catholic books and trinkets which were then freely exposed for sale under the royal patronage, read aloud the titles of the books and threw a rosary across the table to the king's council. And now, he cried with a loud voice, I lay this information before God, before this court, and before the English people. We shall soon see whether Mr. Attorney will do his duty. It was resolved that, before the punishment was inflicted, Johnson should be degraded from the priesthood. The prelates who had been charged by the ecclesiastical commission with the care of the diocese of London, cited him before them in the chapter house of St. Paul's Cathedral. The manner in which he went through the ceremony made a deep impression on many minds. When he was stripped of his sacred robe he exclaimed, You are taking away my gown, because I have tried to keep your gowns on your backs. The only part of the formality which seemed to distress him was the plucking of the Bible out of his hand. He made a faint struggle to retain the sacred book, kissed it, and burst into tears. You cannot, he said, deprive me of the hopes which I owed to it. Some attempts were made to obtain a remission of the flogging. A Roman Catholic priest offered to intercede in consideration of a bribe of two hundred pounds. The money was raised and the priest did his best but in vain. Mr. Johnson said the king has the spirit of a martyr, and it is fit that he should be one. William III said, a few years later, of one of the most acrimonious and intrepid Jacobites. He has set his heart on being a martyr and I have set mine on disappointing him. These two speeches would alone suffice to explain the widely different fates of the two princes. The day appointed for the flogging game, a whip of nine lashes was used, three hundred and seventeen stripes were inflicted, but the sufferer never winced. He afterwards said that the pain was cruel, but that, as he was dragged at the tail of the cart, he remembered how patiently the cross had been born of Mount Calvary, and was so much supported by the thought that, but for the fear of incurring the suspicion of vain glory, he would have sung a psalm with as firm and cheerful a voice as if he had been worshipping God in the congregation. It is impossible not to wish that so much heroism had been less alloyed by intemperance and intolerance. Among the clergy of the Church of England, Johnson found no sympathy, yet attempted to justify rebellion, yet even hinted approbation of regicide, and they still, in spite of much provocation, clung to the doctrine of non-resistance. But they saw with alarm and concern the progress of what they considered a noxious superstition, and while they abjured all thought of defending their religion by the sword, they took themselves manfully to weapons of a different kind. To breach against the errors of Vopery was now regarded by them as a point of duty and a point of honour. The London clergy, who were then in abilities and influence decidedly at the head of their profession, set an example which was bravely followed by their rudor brethren all over the country. Had only a few bold men taken this freedom, they would probably have been at one sighted before the ecclesiastical commission. But it was hardly possible to punish an offence which was committed every Sunday by thousands of divines from Borowik to Penzance. The presses of the capital of Oxford and of Cambridge never rested. The act which subjected literature to a censorship did not seriously impede the exertions of protest and controversialists, for it contained to provide so in favour of the two universities and authorised the publication of theological works licensed by the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was therefore out of the power of the government to silence the defenders of the established religion. They were a numerous and intrepid and a well-appointed band of combatants. Among them were eloquent declaimers, expert dialecticians, scholars deeply read in the writings of the fathers and in all parts of ecclesiastical history. Some of them, at a later period, turned against one another the formidable arms which they had wielded against the common enemy and by their fierce contentions and insolent triumphs brought reproach on the church which they had saved. But at present they formed a united phalanx. In the van appeared a rank of steady and skillful veterans. Till its then stilling fleet, Sherlock Prado, Whitby, Patrick, Tennyson, Wake, the rear was brought up by the most distinguished bachelors of arts who were studying for deacons' orders. Conspicuous amongst the recruits whom Cambridge sent to the field was a distinguished pupil of the great mutant, Henry Wharton, who I had a few months before in senior wrangler of his year, and his early death was soon after deployed by men of all parties as an irreparable loss to letters. Oxford was not less proud of a youth whose great powers first essayed in this conflict afterwards troubled the church and the state during forty eventful years. Francis Atterbury. By such men as these every question and issue between the papists and the Protestants was debated, sometimes in a populist style which boys and women could comprehend, sometimes with the utmost subtlety of logic, and sometimes with an immense display of learning, the pretensions of the Holy See, the authority of tradition, purgatory, transubstantiation, the sacrifice of the mass, the adoration of the host, the denial of the cup to the laity, confession, penance, indulgences, extreme unction, the invocation of saints, the adoration of images, the celibacy of the clergy, the monastic vows, the practice of celebrating public worship in a tongue unknown to the multitude, the corruptions of the court of Rome, the history of the reformation, the characters of the chief reformers were coviously discussed. Great numbers of absurd legends about miracles wrought by saints and relics were translated from the Italian and published as specimens of the priestcraft by which the greater part of Christodom had been fooled. Of the tracks put forth on these subjects by Anglican divines during the short reign of James II, many have probably perished. Those which may still be found in our great libraries make up a mass of near 20,000 pages. The Roman Catholics did not yield the victory without a struggle. One of them, named Henry Hills, had been appointed printer to the royal household in Chapel and had been placed by the king at the head of a great office in London from which theological tracks came forth by hundreds. Obadiah Walker's press was not less active at Oxford, but with the exception of some bad translations of Osway's admirable works, these establishments put forth nothing of the smallest value. It was indeed impossible for any intelligent and candid Roman Catholic to deny that the champions of his church were, in every talent and requirement, completely overmatched, the ableist of them would not, on the other side, have been considered as of the third rate. Many of them, even when they had something to say, knew not how to say it. They had been excluded by their religion from English schools and universities, nor had they ever, till the accession of James, found England an agreeable or even a safe residence. They had therefore passed the greater part of their lives on the continent and had almost unlearned their mother tongue when they breached their outlandish axe and moved the derision of the audience. They spelt like washer women. The addiction was disfigured by foreign idioms and when they meant to be eloquent they imitated as well as they could what was considered as fine writing in those Italian academies where rhetoric had then reached the last stage of corruption. Disputants laboring under these disadvantages would scarcely, even with truth on their side, have been able to make head against men whose style is eminently distinguished by simple purity and grace. End of Art 16. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Kirsten Ferrari. The History of England from the Accession of James II by Thomas Babington Macaulay. Chapter 6 Part 17 The situation of England in the year 1686 cannot be better described than in the words of the French ambassador. The discontent, he wrote, is great and general, but the fear of incurring still worse evils restrains all who have anything to lose. The King openly expresses his joy at finding himself in a situation to strike bold strokes. He likes to be complimented on this subject. He has talked to me about it and has assured me that he will not flinch. Meanwhile in other parts of the Empire events of grave importance had taken place. The situation of the Episcopalian Protestants of Scotland differed widely from that in which their English brethren stood. In the south of the island the religion of the state was the religion of the people and had a strength altogether independent of the strength derived from the support of the government. The sincere conformists were far more numerous than the papists and the Protestant dissenters taken together. The established church of Scotland was the church of a small minority. The majority of the lowland population was firmly attached to the Presbyterian discipline. Prelacy was abhorred by the great body of Scottish Protestants both as an unscriptural and as a foreign institution. It was regarded by the disciples of Knox as a relic of the abominations of Babylon the Great. It painfully reminded a people proud of the memory of Wallace and Bruce that Scotland, since her sovereigns had succeeded to a fairer inheritance, had been independent in name only. The Episcopal polity was also closely associated in the public mind with all the evils produced by twenty-five years of corrupt and cruel maladministration. Nevertheless this polity stood, though on a narrow basis and amidst fearful storms, tottering indeed yet upheld by the civil magistrate and leaning for support whenever danger became serious on the power of England. The records of the Scottish Parliament were thick-set with laws denouncing vengeance on those who, in any direction, strayed from the prescribed pale. By an act passed in the time of Knox and breathing his spirit, it was a high crime to hear mass and the Third Offence was capital. An act recently passed at the instance of James made it death to preach in any Presbyterian conventical whatever and even to attend such a conventical in the open air. The Eucharist was not, as in England, degraded into a civil test, but no person could hold any office, could sit in Parliament or could even vote for a Member of Parliament without subscribing under the sanction of oath, a declaration which condemned in the strongest terms the principles of both the Papists and of the Covenanters. In the Privy Council of Scotland there were two parties corresponding to the two parties which were contending against each other at Whitehall. William Douglas, Duke of Queensbury, was Lord Treasurer and had during some years been considered as First Minister. He was nearly connected by affinity, by similarity of opinions and by similarity of temper with the Treasurer of England. Both were Tories, both were men of hot temper and strong prejudices. Both were ready to support their master in any attack on the civil liberties of his people, but both were sincerely attached to the established church. Queensbury had early notified the court that if any innovation affecting the church were contemplated, to such innovation he could be no party. But among his colleagues were several men not less unprincipled than Sunderland. In truth the Council Chamber at Edinburgh had been, during a quarter of the century, a seminary of all public and private vices, and some of the politicians whose character had been formed there had a peculiar hardness of heart and forehead to which Westminster, even in that bad age, could hardly show anything quite equal. The Chancellor, James Drummond Earl of Perth and his brother, the Secretary of State, John Lord Milford, were bent on supplanting Queensbury. The Chancellor had already an unquestionable title to the royal favour. He had brought into use a little steel thumb-screw which gave such exquisite torment that it had wrung confessions even out of men on whom his Majesty's favourite boot had been tried in vain. But it was well known that even barbarity was not so sure a way to the heart of James as apostasy. To apostasy, therefore, Perth and Melford resorted with a certain audacious baseness which no English statesman could hope to emulate. They declared that the papers found in the strong box of Charles II had converted them both to the true faith, and they began to confess and to hear mass. How little conscience had to do with Perth's change of religion he amply proved by taking to wife a few weeks later indirect defiance of the laws of the church which he had just joined, a lady who was his cousin German without waiting for a dispensation. When the good Pope learned this he said, with scorn and ignignation which well became him that this was a strange sort of conversion, but James was more easily satisfied. The apostates presented themselves at Whitehall, and there received such assurances of his favour that they ventured to bring direct charges against the treasurer. Those charges, however, were so evidently frivolous that James was forced to acquit the accused minister, and many thought that the Chancellor had ruined himself by his malignant eagerness to ruin his rival. There were a few, however, who judged more correctly. Hallifax, to whom Perth expressed some apprehensions, answered with a sneer that there was no danger. Be of good cheer, my lord, thy faith hath made thee whole." The prediction was correct. Perth and Melford went back to Edinburgh, the real heads of government of their country. Another member of the Scottish Privy Council, Alexander Stewart, Earl of Murray, the descendant and heir of the regent, abjured the religion of which his illustrious ancestor had been the foremost champion, and declared himself a member of the Church of Rome. Devoted as Queensbury had always been to the cause of prerogative, he could not stand his ground against competitors who were willing to pay such a price for the favour of the court. He had to endure a succession of mortifications, and humiliations, similar to those which, about the same time, began to embitter the life of his friend Rochester. Royal letters came down authorizing papists to hold offices without taking the test. The clergy were strictly charged not to reflect on the Roman Catholic religion in their discourses. The Chancellor took on himself to send the masers of the Privy Council round to the few printers and booksellers who could then be found in Edinburgh, charging them not to publish any work without his licence. It was well understood that this order was intended to prevent the circulation of Protestant treatises. One honest stationer told the messengers that he had in his shop a book which reflected in very coarse terms upon popery, and begged to know whether he might sell it. They asked to see it, and he showed them a copy of the Bible. A cargo of images, beads, crosses and sensors arrived at Leith directed to Lord Perth. The importation of such articles had long been considered as illegal, but now the officers of the customs allowed the superstitious garments and trinkets to pass. In a short time it was known that a popish chapel had been fitted up in the Chancellor's house, and that mass was regularly said there. The mob rose. The mansion where the idolatrous rites were celebrated was fiercely attacked. The iron bars which protected the windows were wrenched off. Lady Perth and some of her female friends were pelted with mud. One rioter was seized and ordered by the privy council to be whipped. His fellows rescued him and beat the hangman. The city was all night in confusion. The students of the university mingled with the crowd and animated the tumult. Zealous burgers drank the health of the college lads and confusion of the popists and encouraged each other to face the troops. The troops were already under arms. They were received with a shower of stones which wounded an officer. Orders were given to fire, and several citizens were killed. The disturbance was serious, but the drummons, inflamed by resentment and ambition, exaggerated it strangely. Queensbury observed that their reports would lead any person who had not been a witness of the tumult to believe that a sedition as formidable as that of Moss and Yellow had been raging at Edinburgh. They, in return, accused the treasurer not only of extenuating the crime of the insurgents, but of having himself prompted it, and did all in their power to obtain evidence of his guilt. One of the ring-leaders, who had been taken, was offered a pardon if he would own that Queensbury had set him on, but the same religious enthusiasm which had impelled the unhappy prisoner of criminal violence prevented him from purchasing his life by a calamity. He and several of his accomplices were hanged. A soldier, who was accused of exclaiming during the affray that he should like to run his sword through a papist, was shot. And Edinburgh was again quiet. But the sufferers were regarded as martyrs, and the popish chancellor became an object of mortal hatred, which in no long time was largely gratified. The King was much incensed. The news of the tumult reached him when the Queen, assisted by the Jesuits, had just triumphed over Lady Dorchester and her Protestant allies. The malcontents should find, he declared, that the only effect of the resistance offered to his will was to make him more and more resolute. He sent orders to the Scottish Council to punish the guilty with the utmost severity, and to make unsparing use of the boot. He pretended that he would not use the force of the boot. He pretended to be fully convinced of the treasurer's innocence, and wrote to that minister in gracious words. But the gracious words were accompanied by ungracious acts. The Scottish Treasury was put into commission in spite of the earnest remonstrances of Rochester, who probably saw his own fate prefigured in that of his kinsmen. Queen'sbury was indeed named First Commissioner, and was made president of the Privy Council. He was not just broken, but still a fall. He was also removed from the Government of the Castle of Edinburgh and was succeeded in that confidential post by the Duke of Gordon, a Roman Catholic. And now a letter arrived from London, fully explaining to the Scottish Privy Council the intentions of the King, what he wanted was that the Roman Catholics should be exempted from all laws imposing penalties and disabilities on account of non-conformity, but that the persecution of the Coven-enters should go on without mitigation. This scheme encountered strenuous opposition in the Council. Some members were unwilling to see the existing laws relaxed. Others, who were by no means averse to some relaxation, yet felt that it would be monstrous to admit Roman Catholics to the highest honors of the State, and yet to leave unrepealed the acts which made it death to attend a Presbyterian conventical. The answer of the Board was therefore less obsequious than usual. The King, in reply, sharply reprimanded his undutiful councillors and ordered three of them, the Duke of Hamilton, Sir George Lockhart, and General Drummond to attend him at Westminster. Hamilton's abilities and knowledge, though by no means such as would have suffice to raise an obscure man to eminence, appeared highly respectable in one who was Premier Peer of Scotland. Lockhart had long been regarded as one of the first jurists, logicians, and orators that his country had produced, and enjoyed also that sort of consideration which is derived from large possessions, for his estate was such as at that time very few Scottish nobles possessed. He had been lately appointed President of the Court of Session. Drummond, a younger brother of Perth and Melford, was commander of the forces in Scotland. He was a loose and profane man, but a sense of honour which his two kinsmen wanted restrained him from a public apostasy. He lived and died in the significant phrase of one of his countrymen, a bad Christian, but a good Protestant. James was pleased by the dutiful language which the three councillors used when first they appeared before him. He spoke highly of them to Berylone, and particularly extolled Lockhart as the ablest and most eloquent Scotchman living. They soon proved, however, less tractable than they expected, and it was rumoured at court that they had been perverted by this company which they kept in London. Hamilton lived much with zealous churchmen, and it might be feared that Lockhart, who was related to the Horton family, had fallen into still worse society. In truth it was natural that statesmen fresh from a country where opposition in any other form than that of insurrection and assassination had long been almost unknown, and where all that was not lawless abject submission should have been struck by the earnest and stubborn yet sober discontent which pervaded England, and should have been emboldened to try the experiment of constitutional resistance to the royal will. They indeed declared themselves willing to grant large relief to the Roman Catholics, but on two conditions. First that similar indulgence should be extended to the Calvinistic sectaries, and secondly that the king should bind himself by a solemn promise not to attempt anything to the prejudice of the Protestant religion. Both conditions were highly distasteful to James. He reluctantly agreed, however, after a dispute which lasted several days, that some indulgence should be granted to the Presbyterians, but that he would by no means consent to allow them the full liberty which he demanded for members of his own communion. To the second condition proposed by the three Scottish councillors he positively listened. The Protestant religion he said was false, and he would not give any guarantee that he would not use his power to the prejudice of a false religion. The altercation was long, and was not brought to a conclusion satisfactory to either party. The time fixed for the meeting of the Scottish estates drew near, and it was necessary that the three councillors should leave London to attend their parliamentary duty at Edinburgh. On this occasion another affront was offered to the Presby. In the late session he had held the office of Lord High Commissioner, and had in that capacity represented the Majesty of the Absent King. This dignity, the greatest to which a Scottish noble could aspire, was now transferred to the renegade Murray. On the twenty-ninth of April the Parliament met at Edinburgh. The letter from the King was read. He exhorted the estates to give relief to his Roman Catholic subjects, and offered in return a trade with England, and an amnesty for political offences.  That committee, though named by Murray and composed of privy councillors and courtiers, framed a reply, full indeed of dutiful and respectful expressions, yet clearly indicating a determination to refuse what the King demanded. The estates, it was said, would go as far as their consciences would allow to meet His Majesty's wishes respecting his Roman Catholic religion. These expressions were far from satisfying the Chancellor. Yet such as they were, he was forced to content himself with them, and even had some difficulty in persuading the Parliament to adopt them. Objection was taken by some zealous Protestants to the mention made of the Roman Catholic religion. There was no such religion. There was an idolatrous apostasy, which the laws punished with the halter, and to which it did not become to call such a superstition Catholic was to give up the whole question which was at issue between Rome and the Reformed churches. The offer of a free trade with England was treated as an insult. Our Fathers, said one orator, sold their King for southern gold and we still lie under the reproach of that foul bargain. Let it not be said of us that we have sold our God. Sir John Lauder of Fountainhall, one of the Senators of the College of Justice, suggested the person's commonly called Roman Catholics. Would you nickname His Majesty? exclaimed the Chancellor. The answer drawn by the Committee was carried, but a large and respectable minority voted against the proposed words as too courtly. It was remarked that the representatives of the towns were almost to a man against the Government. Hitherto these members had been of small account in the Parliament, and had generally been considered as the leaders of powerful noblemen. They now showed, for the first time, an independence, a resolution, and a spirit of combination which alarmed the court. The answer was so unpleasing to James that he did not suffer it to be printed in the Gazette. Soon he learned that a law such as he wished to see passed would not even be brought in. The Lords of Articles, whose business was to draw up the acts on which the Estates were afterwards to deliberate, thoroughly nominated by himself. Yet even the Lords of Articles proved refactory. When they met, the three privy councillors who had lately returned from London took the lead in opposition to the Royal Will. Hamilton declared plainly that he could not do what was asked. He was a faithful and loyal subject, but there was a limit imposed by conscience. Conscience, said the Chancellor. Conscience is a vague word which signifies anything or nothing. Hamilton and Lockhart, who sat in Parliament as representative of the great county of Lanark, struck in. If conscience, he said, be a word without meaning we will change it for another phrase which I hope means something. For conscience, let us put the fundamental laws of Scotland. These words raised a fierce debate. General Drummond, who represented Perthshire, declared that he agreed with Hamilton and Lockhart. Most of the bishops present took the lead. It was plain that even in the committee of articles James could not command a majority. He was mortified and irritated by the tidings. He held warm and menacing language and punished some of his mutinous servants in the hope that the rest would take warning. Several persons were dismissed from the council board. Several were deprived of pensions which formed an important part of their income. Sir George F. was the most distinguished victim. He had long held the office of Lord Advocate and had taken such a part in the persecution of the Covenanters that to this day he holds in the estimation of the austere and godly peasantry of Scotland a place not far removed from the unenviable eminence occupied by Claverhouse. The legal attainments of Mackenzie were not of the highest order, but as a scholar, a wit, and an orator he stood high in the opinion of his countrymen, and his renown had spread even to the coffee-houses of London and the cloisters of Oxford. The remains of his forensic speeches prove him to have been a man of parts, but are somewhat disfigured by what he doubtless considered as Ciceronian graces, interjections which show more art than passion, and elaborate amplifications in which epithet rises above epithet in wearisome climax. He had now, for the first time, been found scrupulous. He was therefore, in spite of all his claims on the gratitude of the government, deprived of his office. He retired into the country, and soon after went up to London for the purpose of clearing himself, but was refused admission to the royal presence. While the King was thus trying to terrify the Lords of Articles into submission, the popular voice encouraged them to persist. The utmost exertions of the Chancellor had a national sentiment from expressing itself through the pulpit and the press. One tract, written with such boldness and acrimony that no printer dared to put it in type, was widely circulated in manuscript. The papers which appeared on the other side of the question had much less effect, though they were disseminated at public charge, and though the Scottish defenders of the government were assisted by an English auxiliary of great note, The Strange, who had been sent down to Edinburgh apartments in Holy Root House. At length, after three weeks of debate, the Lords of Articles came to a decision. They proposed merely that the Roman Catholics should be permitted to worship God in private houses without incurring any penalty. And it soon appeared that, far as this measure was from coming up to the King's demands and expectations, the estates either would not pass it at all, or would pass it with great restrictions and modifications. While the contest lasted, the anxiety in London was intense. Every report, every line from Edinburgh was eagerly devoured. One day the story ran that Hamilton had given way, and that the government would carry every point. Then came intelligence that the opposition had rallied and was more obstinate than ever. At the most critical moment orders were sent to the Post Office that bags from Scotland should be transmitted to Whitehall. During a whole week not a single private letter from beyond the Tweet was delivered in London. In our age such an interruption of communication would throw the whole island into confusion. But there was then so little trade and correspondence between England and Scotland that the inconvenience was probably much smaller than has been often occasioned in our own time by a short delay in the arrival of the Indian Mail. While the ordinary channels of information were thus closed, the crowd in the galleries of Whitehall observed with attention the countenances of the King and his ministers. It was noticed with great satisfaction that after every express from the North the enemies of the Protestant religion looked more and more gloomy. At length to the general joy it was announced that the struggle was over, that the government had been unable to carry its measures, and that the Lord High Commissioner had adjourned the Parliament. If James had not been proved to all warning the events would have suffice to warn him.  But the most obsequious of English Parliaments might be regarded as an independent and high-spirited assembly when compared with any Parliament that had ever sat in Scotland. And the servile spirit of Scottish Parliaments was always to be found in the highest perfection extracted and condensed among the Lords of Articles. Yet even the Lords of Articles had been refractory. It was plain that all those classes, all those institutions which up to this year had been considered as the strongest supports of monarchical power must, if the King persisted in his insane policy, be reckoned as parts of the strength of the opposition. All these signs, however, were lost upon him. To every expostulation he had one answer. He would never give way, but his passion had ruined his father, and his unconquerable firmness was loudly applauded by the French Embassy and by the Jesuitical Cabal. 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 by any court of law. There was a Scottish act of supremacy which gave to the sovereign such a control over the Churches might have satisfied Henry VIII. 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 sea, and a successor was appointed. Queensbury was stripped of all his employments, and was ordered by 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 burg 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 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 Holy Root, 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 the contents 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. End of Part 17 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org Recorded by Kirsten Ferreri The History of England from the Accession of James II by Thomas Babington Macaulay Chapter 6 Part 18 When the historian this troubled rain turns to Ireland, his task becomes particularly 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 casts can justly be absolved from blame, but the chief blame is due to that short-sighted 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 labored 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 St. 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.  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 to be held 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 civilization. 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 Churles or the relation in which the followers of Cortez 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 200,000 colonists, proud of their Saxon blood and of their Protestant faith. The great preponderance of numbers that had died was more than compensated by a great superiority of intelligence, vigor, and organization on the other. The English settlers seemed 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 the 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 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 my lesion chieftain swarmed in all the courts and camps of the Continent. Those despoiled proprietors who still remained in their native land 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. And freebooter. Sometimes he contrived in defiance of the law to live by cautioning. 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 harem, 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 color 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 ascendancy of the ruling caste was upheld by a standing army of 7,000 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 homogenous body. The distinction between those Irish who were of Celtic blood, and those Irish who sprang from the followers of Strongbow and De Berg, was not altogether effaced. The Fitzsys sometimes permitted themselves to speak with scorn of the O's and Mack's, and the O's and Mack's sometime repaid that scorn with aversion. In the preceding generation one of the most powerful of the O'Neill's refused to pay any mark of respect to a Roman Catholic gentleman of old Norman descent. They say that the family has been here for 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, Scott and Southron were strongly bound together by their common Saxon origin. Churchmen 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 coercions. The few penal laws, therefore, which had been made in Ireland against Protestant nonconformists were a dead letter. The bigotry of the most sturdy churchmen 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 neighbors he and all his family would run eminent risk of being murdered 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 wig. 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 a 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 common with the grievances of the English Roman Catholic. The Roman Catholic of Lancashire or Staffordshire had only to turn Protestant and he was all at once in all respects on a level with his neighbours. But if the Roman Catholics of Munster and Conut had turned Protestants they would still have continued to be a subject people. Whatever evils the Roman Catholics 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 these populations exercised over the other was the dominion of wealth over poverty, of knowledge over ignorance, of civilized over uncivilized men. 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 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 cast 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 to effectively quiet the anxiety of the new proprietors and to extinguish any wild hopes which the older 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 devices, 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 defraud all the charges of 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 dispoiled. 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 labored to reconcile the hostile races to each other by impartially protecting the rights and the excesses of both. He should have punished with equal severity the native who indulged in the license of barbarism and the colonists who abused the strength of civilization. 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 co-operation 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 development, 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 to a height before unknown. He determined to reverse their relative position, and to put the Protestant colonists under the feet of the Popesh 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 the colonists turned to bay with the stubborn hardyhood 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 England. The old proprietors, by their effort to recover what they had lost, lost part of what they had retained. The momentary ascendancy 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. End of Part 18 Chapter 6 Part 19 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 holy 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 in 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 Turkannal. Turkannal 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 who were really with the natives. The Protestant colonists he hated and they returned as 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 unbearable 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 rival of Clarendon at Dublin. During that interval the king was represented by a board of Lord's Justices, but the military administration was in Turkannals hands. Already the designs of the court began gradually to unfold themselves. A royal order came from Whitehall for disarming the population. This order Turkannals strictly executed as respected the English. Though the country was infested by predatory bans, 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 Turkannals 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 male that crossed St. George's Channel brought tidings of the boundless influence which Turkannal exercised on Irish affairs. It was said that he was to be a marquee, 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 remodeling the army in the courts of justice. Clarendon was bitterly mortified at finding himself a subordinate to the 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 countrymen 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 cast. 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 in honour and led low. Clarendon was soon informed by a concise dispatch 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. After this letter reached the viceroy the intelligence which it contained had, through many channels, arrived in England. 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. In 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 a retiring from business. The alarm soon affected the revenue. Clarendon attempted to inspire the dismayed settlers with the 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 active 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 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 offices. 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 honorable 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 cowherds some footmen some noted marauders some had been so used to wear brogues that they stumbled and shuffled about strangely in their military jackboots. 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 route through the waters of the Boine. 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. Turkano 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 rumored that he soon returned 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 Turkano 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 Turkano 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 hides 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 Turkano came. His commission authorized 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 remodeling 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 bodyguard nor was clear and aware of what had happened till he saw 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 grounds that they were below the proper stature. Yet the most unpracticed 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 Turkano 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. Turkano immediately began to curse and swear, I do not know what to say to that, I would have all Catholics in. The most judicious irishman of his own religious persuasion were dismayed at his rashness and ventured to remonstrate with him, but he drove them from him with implications. 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.  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 feelings 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 the habit of taking council were almost unanimous in favor of the act of settlement. Not only the honest and moderate powers, but the disillute and headstrong dover gave judicious and patriotic advice. Turkano 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 brow-beaten by an enemy, but it was not less painful to know that an enemy was daily breathing colony and evil council 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 honor. The native gentry, instead of coming to pay their respects to him, remained at their houses. The native peasantry everywhere sang earth's songs in praise of Turkano, 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 defense 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 penitence he was the most sincere, that he should think it glorious to die in his 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 columniator, to Connell. Then for a time the prospect seemed to clear, the king was in better humor and during a few days, Clarendon flattered himself that his brother's intercession had prevailed, and that the crisis was passed. End of Part 19 This is a Libyrox recording. All Libyrox recordings are in the main. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer please visit Libyrox.org Recorded by Corrie Samuel The History of England from the Accession of James II by Thomas Babington Macaulay Chapter 6 Part 20 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 clark. 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 dispatches from foreign courts read. Nor did those dispatches 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 anti-chambers and to reserve important secrets for private communications which were addressed to James himself to Sunderland or to Peter. 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 councillors 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 mystical commission he had consented to be a commissioner. True it was that he had, while declaring that he could see nothing blameable 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 columnies against the Lord Treasurer. This mode of attack had been contrived by Ter Connell 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 the religious prejudices should, at such a conjecture, deprive the government of such a 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 co-adductor 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 self-restraint 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 she was running headlong. She therefore suffered the Jesuits to guide his political conduct, and they, in return, suffered her to wedle 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. 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 goodwill, but with the goodwill of a course, stern and arbitrary mind for the conversion of his kinsmen. 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 self-defense 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 labour and the vicar apostolic with Godin, the chaplain and almaner of the Queen Dowager and with Bonaventure et 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 prescribed 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 wigs 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 walks of Charles II. 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 30th of November. Rochester, had to be known that he had even consented to hear the arguments of popished priests stipulated for secrecy. No auditor was suffered to be present except the King. The subject disgust was the real presence. The Roman Catholic Divine 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 Barillion 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, Barillion 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.  "'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 the 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 papery had spread fast through London. Patrick and Jane had been seen going in at that mysterious door, which led to Chiffinches' 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 recede from Berlin, 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 villainy 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 Gifford 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 everything. 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 need to 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 supplication was sufficient to move his anger.  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 Gifford. 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 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 hides abased themselves in vain. Peter regarded them with peculiar malevolence and was bent on their ruin. On the evening of the 17th 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 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 for 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 £40,000 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 £40,000 and a grant of all the estate which the crown had in Grey's extensive property. No person had ever quitted office on terms so advantageous. To the applause of the sincere friends of the established church were indeed very slender claims. To save his place he had sat 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 co-operate 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 Lucra, 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 Lyons 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 proved 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 7th of January 1687 the Gazette announced to the people of London that the treasury was put into commission. On the 8th arrived at Doublet in the Fiery Furnace and the Old and New Testaments On the 8th arrived at Dublin a dispatch formally signifying that in a month Ter Connell 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 Ter Connell was personally an object of aversion. Powis was therefore suggested as the man best qualified for the vice royalty. 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 Ter Connell's energy and cunning. He forned, bullied and bribed indefatigably. Peter'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 Ter Connell 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 Ter Connell supreme military command enormous appointments anything but the vice royalty but all compromise was rejected and it was necessary to yield. Mary of Medina 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. Ter Connell 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 a columnist which twenty-six years before was invented to blacken the fame of Anhyde. To the Roman Catholic courtiers generally he spoke of the uncertain tenure by which they held offices, honors and emollients. 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 Miter of Waterford to preach at St. 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 Englishmen will do. All obstacles were at length removed and in February 1687 Ter Connell 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 1500 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 kelt 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 laughing stock 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, jurors 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 Turk Honol 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 but the king and the jesuitical cabal had determined that the disgrace of the hides should be complete. Lord Arundel of Wardour a Roman Catholic received the privy seal. Bela Saiz, 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 discuss the relic. The disloot Etheridge 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 to be chambered into 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.  The cry was that a general prescription 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 hides 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. End of Part 20 End of Chapter 6