Though no longer Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Ormonde had still much influence in London. He was Lord Steward of the household, and his immense popularity was an offence to such men as Buckingham. It occurred to Blood, the author of the plot in 1663, that it might be possible to seize his enemy and to hang him at Tyburn. Clarendon House, the expense and the ostentation of which had been so fatal to its builder and owner, had been lent to him by the Chancellor’s son, and on the night of the 16th he had nearly reached it after an entertainment in the city given to William of Orange, when he was pulled out of his coach by Blood and others. The ruffians mounted him on horseback behind one of the gang, who carried him down Piccadilly past his own door and past the other great house built by Lord Berkeley, where Devonshire House now stands. Ormonde managed to get his foot under that of the rider, and the two fell to the ground together. Help came, and the Duke, who was sixty, was carried home in an exhausted condition. Two of the gang fired their pistols at him, but missed, and he escaped with some bruises. Blood had ridden on to fix a rope on the gallows, not much more than the length of Park Lane distant, and met his discomfited followers on his way back. It was generally believed that Blood was the tool of Buckingham and the Duchess of Cleveland. He was not brought to justice, and a few months later distinguished himself by his attack on the Crown jewels. In that case he was arrested but pardoned by Charles, who had, however, the decency to ask Ormonde’s leave. When Arlington brought the message, Ormonde told him that if the King could forgive him for stealing his crown, he could easily forgive him for attempting his life; ‘since it was His Majesty’s pleasure, that was a reason sufficient for him, and his lordship might spare the rest.’ Guesses are vain as to what cause or which favourite procured the royal clemency. The cases of Sir John Coventry and Tom Thynne show what might be done in connection with that corrupt Court. Blood was in frequent communication both with Arlington and Williamson.[92]
The Act of Settlement attacked.
Finch deprecates fresh agitation.
Prince Rupert’s Commission.
All who held themselves aggrieved and all who hoped to gain by a fresh agitation, now thought the time propitious for an attack on the Acts of Settlement and Explanation. A commission signed by six peers and fifty-two others was given to Richard Talbot, who had been all along engaged in similar business, as their plenary agent, with power to call in two or more assistants and to promote petitions to King and Parliament. They set forth that, contrary to the royal declaration and intention, they had been ‘exposed to extreme exigencies, groaning these many years past under the insupportable burden of misery and poverty for want of subsistence and having no refuge left but to prostrate at His Majesty’s feet for justice and compassion.’ A few weeks later, Talbot accordingly petitioned the King in Council, and a committee, which included Ormonde, was appointed to consider the question. Talbot and the Irish barrister whom he was allowed to employ enlarged upon the great services of the Irish generally instead of relying on cases of individual hardship. They ignored the rebellion, represented Ormonde as having been driven from Ireland by the Cromwellians alone, objected to the constitution of the Irish Parliament, and demanded an Act of Indemnity. They desired an impartial enquiry, and that in the meantime no undisposed land should be granted away. Ormonde was thus driven to recall the facts of the war, the broken peaces, and the excommunication launched against himself. Before proceeding further a report was called for from Finch, now Attorney-General, who had drawn the Act of Explanation, and in a few days he made a very able statement, which was afterwards committed to writing. In this document a clear account is given of all the proceedings connected with the settlement. Finch does not deny that there were cases of hardship, but he altogether objected to upset in the English Parliament what had already been done after the greatest deliberation in Ireland, ‘for the consequence of this would be that Ireland should be always settling, but never settled.’ He strongly asserted the power of the English Parliament to make laws for Ireland, subject, however, to nullification by the legislature there. As to an Act of Indemnity, certainly it would be a good thing for Ireland, provided it was not used to upset the arrangements as to land. But the Irish rebellion was specially excepted from the English Act of Oblivion, and it was doubtful whether Parliament would change that. Probably Talbot and his friends would care very little for any relief that did not alter the title to land, ‘for few Irish rebels are less than fifty years old now, and no man goes about to trouble them for that crime.’ Finch’s opinion, coinciding as it did with Ormonde’s, made it evident that nothing could be expected from the first committee. It was therefore superseded by another, from which Ormonde was excluded, but of which Buckingham, Ashley, and Lauderdale formed part. This was afterwards turned into a royal commission, with Prince Rupert at its head, and very full powers of inquiry were given as to the settlement of Ireland.[93]
Lady Clanbrassil.
Lord Berkeley was much under the influence of the beautiful and witty but most unscrupulous Countess of Clanbrassil. He had her worthless and foolish husband made a Privy Councillor. Whether she favoured the Roman Catholics or not, she was certainly hostile to the Presbyterians, having had one of their meeting-houses pulled down. She occupied rooms in the Castle, and was much in favour with Lady Berkeley, as well as with the Lord Lieutenant, who was by no means young. Patrick Adair records with evident pleasure that she was hurt by the fall of the gallery when present with the viceregal party in the Smock Alley Theatre on St. Stephen’s Day. Adair says the play was called ‘The Nonconformist,’ wherein ‘the poor shadow of a nonconformist minister is mocked and upbraided.’ It was Ben Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair, which Pepys thought an admirable play, ‘but too much profane and abusive.’ Robartes had suppressed the players ‘as well as other vicious persons,’ but that did not last long. The theatre had been built by subscription in 1662, and Adair says the bishops contributed largely, ‘though they refused at the time to give countenance or assistance for building a church at Dame Street, where there was great need.’ The house was repaired and continued to be used as a theatre until near the end of the eighteenth century.[94]
Inefficiency of the Government.
Berkeley went to England in June 1671, was well received, and had the honour of entertaining the King and Queen at his house at Twickenham. Lady Clanbrassil went with him. ‘She thinks,’ says Lord Conway, ‘to trip up Nell Gwyn’s heels, and you cannot imagine how highly my Lord Arran and many others do value themselves upon the account of managing Lady Clanbrassil in this affair.’ Whether Charles admired her or not does not appear, but she certainly did not get the better of Nell Gwyn. Pending promotion she amused herself with Harry Killigrew, and her intimacy with the Berkeleys continued as long as they stayed in Ireland, whither she returned with them in September. Sir Nicholas Armourer, the jovial governor of Duncannon, thought her beautiful and dangerous, but did not admire the administration of which she was so bright an ornament. ‘An army fifteen months in arrear, the Treasury locked up, and a mutinous city, a country in apprehensions for their Act of Settlement. What shall we say unto these things?’[95]