Once more in straits for troops for the King’s service, and money to pay them, Ormonde wrote to the Duke of Albemarle, asking for five hundred men, to which request he got the unsatisfactory reply, that Monk himself had not that number in his whole army upon whose fidelity he could rely. Ormonde, however, was not discouraged, as we shall see by an extract from the author already quoted, speaking of all the difficulties with which the Lord-Lieutenant had to contend. ‘He was not less indefatigable and prudent than his enemies were indefatigable, industrious, and artful, but turned his whole thoughts to raising the distressed kingdom of Ireland, both in character and circumstances. He gave the greatest encouragement to learning, fostered trade, and revived the linen manufacture, which had been founded by Lord Strafford.’ It seems strange that the Irish, who are among the best and most skilful artificers of any nation, should scarcely ever have persisted in any manufacture, among the many that have been set on foot at different times, with the exception of this branch, in which they have for so many years been paramount. The Duke also advocated for Ireland the advantages of free trade to all foreign nations, in peace and war; for no ingratitude on the part of his countrymen ever induced Ormonde to neglect their interests in matters ecclesiastical, civil, or military. Added to which, he made the most liberal sacrifices of his own personal property to advance the interests of the King and the country he ruled; yet notwithstanding, he was made the mark for calumny and persecution, in England as well as in Ireland, and the Duke of Buckingham hated and envied him, and meditated an impeachment, while Lords Arlington and Shaftesbury were most inimical to him, neither was he a favourite with the Queen-Mother, in spite of all the services he had rendered her.
Another formidable adversary was Barbara, Countess of Castlemaine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, the rapacious mistress of Charles II., who had given her the Lodge in Phœnix Park, Dublin. The Lord-Lieutenant refused to confirm the grant, stopped the warrant, declaring that it was the proper summer quarter for himself and his successors in office. Barbara, as may be expected, never forgave this interference. Meeting the Duke one day while he was in London, in the precincts of the Court, she fell on him with abusive and insulting words, and concluded by saying she devoutly wished she might live to see him hanged. His Grace listened with a calm, imperturbable smile to these ravings, and said he was not in such hot haste to put an end to her Ladyship’s existence; he should be quite content to live long enough to see her old and ugly. Neither did the faithful friendship which existed between the Duke and the Earl of Clarendon, whose star was now waning, redound to the worldly advantage of the former.
He made more than one journey to England to give an account of his stewardship to the King, as also to look after his own interests, well knowing what numbers were plotting against him. Burnet, Pepys, Evelyn, all pay their tribute to the Duke during his residence in London at this time, when Charles, who esteemed him in his heart, was too weak to uphold him against his arrogant favourite and his other slanderers. Pepys says: ‘I do hear that my Lord of Ormonde shall not hold his government of Ireland any longer, which shows the power of Buckingham and the poor spirit of the King, and the little hold that any man can have of him.’ Again: ‘This day I do hear that my Lord Ormonde is to be declared in Council no more Lord-Deputy of Ireland; his time of commission having expired, the King is prevailed with to take it out of his hands, which people do mightily admire’ (how many meanings may lie in the same word!), ‘saying he is the greatest subject of any Prince in Christendom, and hath done more for his Prince than any ever yet did, but he must down, it seems: the Duke of Buckingham carries all before him;’ and so forth. But the machinations of his enemies succeeded. Lord Robartes reigned in his stead, while the Duchess went over to Dublin to break up the establishment, and received an ovation from the people there. Oxford, of which University the Duke had been made Chancellor, came forward to show him all the respect he deserved, but no longer received, at the hands of the weak-spirited Charles, whom he continued to serve so faithfully. Archbishop Sheldon, speaking of the Duke’s firmness and temper, which he showed in the melancholy occasion of his disfavour at Court, says it insured the admiration of all bystanders beyond everything he had ever done before,—indeed it was the most glorious part of his life. One of the principal causes of the King’s coldness was the resolution Ormonde had formed, and from which he never swerved: he would not truckle to those female harpies who were ruining the King not only in his pocket, but in the estimation of his people. So dignified was Ormonde’s demeanour that Buckingham asked Charles, ‘Will your Majesty answer me one question: Is it the Duke who is out of favour with the King, or the King with the Duke? for, upon my word, it is your Majesty who looks most out of countenance when you are together.’
People who were not cognisant of the real state of affairs at Court would sometimes ask him to intercede for some favour, which caused him to reply: ‘I have no longer the power to help, only to hurt.’ One day Carey Dillon, afterwards Lord Roscommon, came and requested the Duke to assist him with the King in some private affair, saying, ‘I have no friends but God and yourself.’ ‘Alas!’ said Ormonde, ‘poor Carey, I pity thee; thou couldst not have two friends who have less interest at Court or less respect shown them there.’
The Prince of Orange being over in England, the Duke had been in attendance on his Highness at a banquet given by the City of London, and was returning to Clarendon House, where he then lived, in his coach, which was so large that he had caused iron spikes to be placed at the back, lest his footmen should get up, and make it too heavy for the horses; so six of them walked by the side; but, in spite of this escort, the coach was stopped by the notorious Blood and several accomplices, who had been on the watch in St. James’s Street. They dragged out the Duke, and placed him behind a horseman, tightly bound by a rope, with orders that the prisoner should be conveyed to Tyburn, while Blood galloped on in front to prepare the gallows, with his own hands, for the execution of the man he detested. But Ormonde made a stalwart resistance; he struggled so violently as to impede the progress of the horseman, and at length, getting his foot under the stirrup, upset his captor, and they both rolled off together on the pavement. Meantime the coachman had hastened home, alarmed the servants, with whom he tore off in pursuit, and by the light (not of the stars of heaven, but) of the star which the Duke wore, and which glittered in the flicker of the lamps, they found the struggling pair, and, rescuing their beloved master, conveyed him home almost senseless. It was naturally supposed that Blood would suffer condign punishment; but to the surprise of all—saving, perhaps, the Duke of Buckingham and the Duchess of Cleveland—the King not only pardoned him, but gave him later on an estate in Ireland! It was currently believed at Court that Buckingham had a hand in this attempt on Ormonde’s life, and Lord Ossory taxed him with it one day at Court.
‘I give you warning,’ said the eager young man, ‘that if my father comes to a violent death by the hand of a ruffian, or by secret way of poison, I shall not be at a loss to know who is the author, but consider you the assassin, and whenever I meet you will pistol you, though it be behind the King’s chair. And I tell you this in his Majesty’s presence, that you may know I will keep my word,’—a threat which the blustering Duke seems to have found himself obliged to put up with; at all events, it was said that when Blood was tried for stealing the Regalia, he accused Buckingham on this count; and the King, whose unreasonable clemency with respect to the villain has always remained a mystery, sent to beg Ormonde’s forgiveness for Blood. The Duke replied to the messenger: ‘If the King can forgive him for stealing his crown, I may easily forgive him for attempting my life.’
In order to be near his service at Court, the Duke had taken a house near Windsor, and, being in great favour with the Queen and the Duchess of York, was often summoned to play at basset with them. One Sunday, the card-table being brought out, the Queen invited him to play.
‘I hope your Majesty will excuse me,’ he said.
‘You surely can have no scruples,’ observed the Queen, not best pleased; ‘nobody else has any.’
‘I beg your Majesty’s pardon,’ was the reply; ‘Christian, and even Jewish, laws, set apart one day in seven for the service of God, and cessation from business.’