Ultra-patriotic writers, with that passion for obscure data which characterizes the partisan historian in his search of an argument, have chosen to regard the first Duke of Ormonde as the friend of England and the enemy of Ireland. They shed inky tears over the fate of men like Hugh O'Neill and Shane of that family, but the success of either of these would have meant a return to the absurd state of affairs which made Ireland a nation of kingdoms and traitors. O'Neill represented only his own followers, and his success would have bred rivals and imitators. There was no hope of peace or prosperity if the country came under the dominion of men brave on the battlefield and foolish and quarrelsome in their councils. Mere bravery is not statesmanship; victories on the battlefield have to be supported by wisdom in the council, or all their benefits are lost.
Ormonde and Lady Castlemaine
The Duke of Ormonde was the first of the great race of Irishmen, worthily descended from famous persons in the two countries, who aimed at a united Ireland in honourable federation with England. To a man of his breeding and education the civilization of Pall Mall was more pleasing than the semi-barbarous condition of provincial Ireland, but he accepted again the thankless position of viceroy, and, hampered by the new school of politics that had arisen in London, he did his utmost for Ireland. He was the best man for the task, and Charles knew it, and although his enemies never lost an opportunity for damaging his reputation, he retained the post until March 14, 1669, having conducted the government in person for nearly seven years. Ormonde was one of the first to realize the fact that Charles was endangering his throne by his profligacy. Almost every decree that emanated from Whitehall was inspired by the whims and vagaries of one of the mistresses of the 'Merry Monarch,' and even Ormonde, attached as he was to the person of the king, could not submit to the insolent demand on the part of Lady Castlemaine that her lover should grant her Phoenix Park as a private demesne. Lady Castlemaine, however, ascribed her defeat to Ormonde's jealousy, and it was mainly through her that the viceroy's enemies continued their plottings and secured his recall. The charges against him were that he had billeted soldiers on civilians and had executed martial law, charges so ridiculous that there was never any serious attempt to investigate them after Ormonde's return to London.
He was not without honour, however, even in England, for Oxford University elected him her Chancellor, and in 1670 the city of Dublin presented an address to Lord Ossory, the duke's son, which consisted of complimentary references to the late viceroy and ignored the then holder of the post, Lord Robarts. Lord Ossory had acted as deputy for his father in 1664-65, and gave promise of a brilliant career.
Eight years of court life followed, during which Ormonde, who knew more about Ireland than any other living person, was seldom called in to advise Charles. Robarts, a stolid nobleman of no accomplishments beyond a little pride, managed to last a year—1669-70. On the Restoration, Robarts, the son of a tin merchant and a usurer, was appointed deputy to General Monck, whom he considered an upstart, but he declined to represent such a man, and Charles, who was heavily in his debt, made him Lord Privy Seal, and thus enabled him to avoid the indignity of occupying an inferior position to General Monck.
The next viceroy was a distinguished survivor of the Civil War in the person of John Berkeley, first Lord Berkeley of Stratton. He was a nobleman of elaborate tastes, who took full advantage of Charles II.'s indebtedness to him for services rendered during the great exile. This he supplemented by marrying three times, the third wife bringing him an immense fortune. She was plain and old, but Berkeley overcame his natural repugnance to the ugly in this particular case. In Ireland he was a success mainly because his sympathies inclined towards the Catholic religion, and he left well alone. The country would have welcomed a longer viceroyalty than two years, but Berkeley was not the man to waste his energies in Dublin, and he was glad to return to London and to the court.
The Duchess of Cleveland
Ireland did not, of course, escape altogether from the evil consequences of Charles's partiality for frail femininity. His illegitimate children had to be provided with money as well as with titles, and their mothers' anxiety for the future dispelled. When there were murmurings in England against the king's extravagant methods in satisfying the cupidity of his creatures, these latter asked for something out of Ireland. The Duchess of Portsmouth wanted Phoenix Park, and Charles was quite willing that she should have it, but the Duke of Ormonde and the Earl of Essex, who knew the fatal stupidity of the Stuarts, managed to convince Charles that he would run the risk of losing his crown if he lost his head over the woman who made the title of duchess as cheap as water while she flaunted it in Whitehall. It was not to be expected that an illiterate woman would be able to understand the reasons that made the gift of Phoenix Park impracticable, and she plotted with all the feline spite that she was capable of to injure the men who had defeated her ambitions. Ormonde, however, was too strong, but when Arthur Capel, Earl of Essex, was appointed to succeed Lord Berkeley in 1672, she carried on an intrigue against him, and did not cease until his recall in 1677. Lord Essex was the son of the Lord Capel who had been executed in 1649, and Charles owed him and his family something. That debt was never repaid fully, and had it not been for a sudden revulsion of feeling in Ormonde's favour Lord Essex might never have gone to Ireland. The new viceroy was not popular among the king's coterie of duchesses and countesses. When at the Treasury he had declined to pay the Duchess of Cleveland £25,000 out of the public funds, and, of course, the duchess was furious. Essex was not dismayed. He knew that Charles dare not quarrel with a man of his position on the question of the subsidies he considered his mistresses ought to have. Publicity was the last thing he desired. Essex was not the man to send to Ireland to represent the Duchess of Cleveland or the Duchess of Portsmouth, and Ormonde persuaded Charles that in Ireland he was regarded as king, and that the people in that benighted country were so unacquainted with the manners of polite society as to be quite unable to appreciate the delicate position of duchess without a duke.
