In this age and clime, such intolerance may seem greatly exaggerated, if not altogether incredible. But stepping down through the successive changes of ninety years, we find that the Volunteers of 1782, with the light of the American Revolution before them, were quite as exclusive. Up to the day when, on Essex-Bridge, the regiment of Lord Altamont held its way through the ranks of his Britannic majesty,[7] and a revolution appeared imminent, the proposition to allow Catholics to bear arms in the native militia, even as private soldiers, had been scouted with contempt. The provisions of Catholic Emancipation are not yet accepted there, for we have seen the "Test Act" revived as late as 1864, in Dublin, to the exclusion of a Catholic alderman. Before such evidences, doubt vanishes, and we are able to appreciate the position of Tyrconnell, and the necessity for intrepid action in the premises. No man had a greater share of praise and censure from contemporary historians than he, and he is still a subject of each as the minds of men incline to either side in the issues that then distracted the country. His precipitancy in removing the restraints on religion, and in giving too active an impulse to the popular will, has come in for its share of condemnation. He is also criticized for a too pompous display of his dual power, as Viceroy and Commander-in-Chief: but we should remember that they who censure his hasty measures of redress, are those who persistently oppose all redress; that his manner of life as Viceroy was simple and unostentatious as compared with that of his successors in office, and that his dual power was conferred on him, when the king's brother-in-law, Clarendon, had deserted him, and there was no other man capable and at the same time willing to assume that critical position.
Tyrconnell, however, was not a man to be diverted from his purpose by either threat or criticism, and so he pursued his course unshrinking. His country demanded redress and he hearkened to her call. The emancipation of his co-religionists was necessary, and he endeavored to effect it: but in doing so he infringed no civil or religious right of others: none were denied equality before the law, and none were removed from office except for open contumacy or covert treason. No doubt he had to brave obloquy and opposition; but who could serve that country and that king at that particular crisis, and escape the shafts of malignity?
In the summer of 1688, when the conspiracy of the Prince of Orange became known to Tyrconnell, in the manner already indicated, he lost no time in communicating his intelligence to the king. It was received with incredulity, for the evil counsel of Earl Sunderland still held sway over every other representation. How could he believe that his affectionate son-in-law, who had made him a prompt tender of military assistance to suppress the rebellion of Monmouth, could have been prompted by any but the most honorable and filial motives? Had he not offered to lead his forces in person, and to protect the capital and the inmates of the royal palace?
But the urgency of the occasion emboldened Tyrconnell, and he at last succeeded in arousing the king's suspicions. He urged the necessity of an immediate alliance with France, and though in this he was not able to move the fixed impression left by the wily secretary, he prevailed so far on the king as to accept the greater part of the forces he had raised for the protection of Ireland; and so they were immediately sent over and placed at the royal service.
Tyrconnell then formed the bold design, without the knowledge of the king, of placing Ireland under the protection of France. The proposition was well received by Louis, but events culminated with such rapidity during the autumn of 1688, that no time was left for diplomacy, for it required the undivided attention of Tyrconnell to repress the spirit of disaffection throughout Ulster as the winter approached. The leaders of the Protestant party in Ireland were alive to all that was taking place, and premonitory symptoms of open revolt were apparent to all. In Ulster, Lord Blaney, Rawdon, Skeffington, Keames, Kelso, and Walker, who had kept a close correspondence with the Prince of Orange since the death of Monmouth, sounded the alarm, and called their followers to arms. Every action or word of the deputy was seized on to excite the passions and fears of their people, and every counter-effort on his part to allay the growing excitement was futile. The time was propitious, and they seized on every event to magnify their danger. The alarm became wide-spread, and the old hatred that so often left the country a prey to foreign adventure was revived in all its bitterness. Fanaticism overruled common sense, and the people were divided.
A report was industriously circulated that a massacre of the entire Protestant population of the country was arranged for the 9th of December, with a minuteness of detail that convinced the most incredulous. This was about the date that was to usher in the Prince of Orange. The conspirators knew it, but the people were ignorant. The utmost consternation prevailed; the Protestant people in considerable numbers abandoned their homes, flocked to the sea-shore, and stowing themselves away in the hold of every available craft that presented, passed over to England, while the boldest of them fled to the North to join the standard of William's adherents. Those who reached England awakened the liveliest sympathy for the condition of their Irish brethren, and the most bitter indignation against "the murdering Irish." The arrival of William at Whitehall was the signal for a general onslaught on the English Catholics, and the Irish residents there had to take refuge in immediate flight. The regiments imprudently sent there at the suggestion of Tyrconnell, being placed in small detachments throughout the country, were forced into the usurper's service, or, trying to make their way home, were set upon in detail, and slaughtered mercilessly in the streets and by-ways wherever they passed. Some few fought or forced their way to the seaboard, and through the kindly offices of the English Jacobites, made their way back in the most wretched condition.[8]
The news of William's arrival soon spread throughout Ireland and Scotland. In the former country this event had been anticipated: the people had already arrayed themselves into two parties known through succeeding times as Williamites and Jacobites. In the latter a convention was called, and after much angry opposition, the covenanters declared that James's flight was a virtual abdication, and that he had consequently "forefaulted" his right to the throne and the allegiance of his subjects of Scotland, which they tendered to William. A respectable portion, however, headed by the Archbishop of Glasgow, the Duke of Gordon, the Earl of Balcarras, and Graham of Claverhouse (Viscount Dundee) supported the Jacobite cause and took up arms in defence of their lawful king.
On the 7th of December the gates of Derry were closed against the Earl of Antrim's regiment of Highlanders sent thither by Tyrconnell on the invitation of its governor, and the call to arms was sounded through all the province of Ulster. Blaney, Walker, Keames, Kelso, Skeffington, and Rawdon called a convention, and assuming their right to dispose of the country, tendered its allegiance to William. They then entered into a league "for the maintenance of the Protestant religion and the dependency of Ireland upon England," and placed themselves at the head of the military organizations formed throughout the province: and Enniskillen, Culmore, Sligo, Coleraine—nearly all the important posts from Down to Donegal, and from Cavan to Antrim—were seized on and garrisoned in the name of the Prince of Orange.
It is scarcely necessary to say, that the 9th of December came and passed without any manifestation of that murderous design attributed to the Catholics. The conspiracy was on the other side, and manifested itself in the following manner. Major Poor, who had served in a dragoon regiment under Cromwell, had got the command of two companies of cavalry, from "The League." With this force he commenced a series of raids on the inhabitants of Louth, and levied a tax of £500 on the tenantry of Lord Bellew. Hearing of this, Bellew sent his son, a youth of eighteen, with a company of dragoons, to assist the farmers in resisting the tax. These troops met and fought for some time with the most determined bravery, until Bellew, closing with the Major, killed him with a blow of his pistol on the head, when the troops of the Major took flight, leaving their dead and wounded behind them. This was the first act of open hostility: it aroused the Catholic people to the necessity of defensive measures, and quickened that martial spirit, never extinguished; their hearts responded to the war-note of the times; but what could the spirit do, but chafe at delay? Their country was impoverished, and they had neither arms nor organization.