In another case William Aston, whose father had been a judge in the last reign, slew Mr. Keating in a sudden affray on the Quay. It was said that an English or Protestant jury would certainly acquit, since the victim was an Irishman, and Clarendon was pleased when a conviction followed. The fact of the homicide is not disputed, but Aston gave a paper to the sheriff on the gallows stairs in which he denied the malice prepense which is of the essence of murder. He said his intention was to wound Keating slightly for having grossly insulted his wife. He died a Protestant, and recorded that great efforts had been made by many priests to make him confess and be absolved according to Roman practice. The last of these visitors was Lord Abbot Taafe, who said he came thirty miles to save the prisoner’s soul, ‘which could not otherwise but be damned, if I died in the faith of the Church of England; and that he was anointed in Germany, but that our ministers had no ordination.’ Clarendon refused to interfere, but both he and the judges, Nugent and Lyndon, interceded for Aston’s family, and his small property was not confiscated.[153]
The King throws over Clarendon.
The army in Ireland consisted of about 7000 men, and was soon purged sufficiently to make it a safe tool. In August Sheridan, by Sunderland’s orders, wrote to say that the pear was nearly ripe, and that Tyrconnel was wanted in London. He went over accordingly, accompanied by Nagle, by Dominic Maguire, the Roman Catholic Primate, and by Bishop Tyrrell of Clogher. The weight of all four was exerted to oust Clarendon. James shrank from the odium of appointing a successor who would not only be disagreeable to all Protestants, but to all who dreaded French influence. Tyrconnel, with characteristic duplicity, told Sheridan that he could give up Ireland to France without being Lord Lieutenant, but employed him to persuade James that the thing was impossible. Sheridan argued that England must always have the preponderating power in Irish politics, since the old Irish, who were ten to one, favoured Spain, and the Anglo-Irish France, while neither faction would submit to the other. But Tyrconnel was determined to be Viceroy. As the price of his help Sunderland might have 5000l. a year in Irish land or 50,000l. down. The Queen, who hated him, might be bribed with a pearl necklace worth 10,000l., which Prince Rupert had given to Margaret Hughes. Sunderland, as greedy and as extravagant as Catiline, was willing to take the money, though not the land, and offered Tyrconnel a lieutenant-general’s place in England with 5000l. a year extra pay, and the reversion of the Lord Lieutenancy as soon as the penal laws were repealed. He said James could only be ruled by a priest or a woman, and that everything would follow if the Queen and Father Petre were made safe. But nothing less than the government of Ireland would satisfy Tyrconnel, though he was willing to be called Berwick’s deputy provided he had all the power. If the King wanted to get him out of the way, he would go abroad for 10,000l. and 4000l. to pay the expenses of his late journeys to and from Ireland. Petre, who hoped for a red hat, and the archbishopric of York to support it, helped him, and James gradually yielded, though with many misgivings. Early in October Tyrconnel was made an English Privy Councillor, and in November it was generally known that he had carried his point, and was openly preparing for the Irish journey. Lord Powis had been talked of, but the King said very truly that there was rough work to be done in Ireland which no English nobleman would do. He pressed Sheridan to go as secretary, with Alexander Fitton as Chancellor, for he knew Tyrconnel too well to trust him without good advisers to moderate or counteract his violence. It would take twelve or eighteen months to reform the army, to call in the charters, and to get such corporations appointed as would elect the right sort of Parliament. When all that was done he would provide handsomely for Sheridan. Since James himself had no confidence in the man he was sending to represent him, it is not surprising to find Evelyn noting his appointment ‘to the astonishment of all sober men and to the evident ruin of the Protestants in that kingdom, as well as of its great improvement going on.’[154]
‘Lillibullero.’
In times of public excitement little things sometimes have a great effect, and are better remembered than more important events. Such were the letters of obscure men in the German Reformation, the Marriage of Figaro before the French Revolution, John Brown’s march in the American civil war, and such, in the Irish branch of our own revolution, was the song of ‘Lillibullero.’ Thomas Wharton, afterwards Marquis and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, boasted that by this ditty he had sung a king out of three kingdoms. It had a success altogether out of proportion to its merit, and in the next century my uncle Toby whistled the lively air on all occasions. The words allude to the period of suspense when James still hesitated about Tyrconnel’s appointment.
Ara! but why does he stay behind?
Ho! by my shoul, ’tis a Protestant wind.
Lillibullero, bullen-a-la.
His landing was to bring commissions galore and to ruin the heretics of Ireland. Swift had some justification for calling Wharton the most universal villain he had ever known; but he was the shrewdest of politicians, and his doggerel tells exactly the same story as Evelyn’s grave reflections.[155]
Clarendon’s weakness.
In adopting the rash policy represented by Tyrconnel, James parted with his two brothers-in-law, in whom the Church of England trusted. Rochester was dismissed from the Treasury, though with a large pension, and Belasyse, a Roman Catholic who had suffered by Oates’s plot, was made First Lord. The Privy Seal was not restored to Clarendon, but given to Lord Arundel of Wardour, who had signed the secret treaty of Dover. Clarendon had been a painstaking governor, but he did not deserve much sympathy, for he was ready to support his master’s arbitrary policy though he did not approve of it. That the King should be dissatisfied with one of his letters was, he said, a ‘mortification beyond anything that can befall me in this world ... to live under your Majesty’s displeasure is impossible for me.... I have made it the study of my life to practise obedience ... you will find a most resigned obedience in me.’ This was very shortly before his dismissal, and after the blow had fallen he goes on in the same strain, talks of casting himself as quickly as possible at His Majesty’s feet, and of obedience to him having been the business of his life. The same flavour of servility permeates his letters to his brother and to Sunderland. Short of changing his religion, there seems to have been no degree of compliance at which he would have stopped.[156]
He leaves Ireland.