His rash letters to Somerset,
In November Bellingham paid a short visit to Dublin, where he found Lady Ormonde with her new husband, Sir Francis Bryan, who had a commission as Lord Marshal of Ireland. Bryan, ‘the man of youthful conditions,’ as Roger Ascham called him, was particularly recommended by the Privy Council to Alen, who could not understand what Henry VIII. had seen in him worthy of great promotion. Bellingham hated him from the first, and Alen thought he would have the same feeling to any one who had married Lady Ormonde. We have no means of knowing whether he was in love with her, or whether he hated her, or whether he merely disliked the alliance as likely to clip his own wings. His idea of the rights and dignity of his position was high and even excessive, and was asserted with a fine disregard of prudence. To Somerset he complained that his credit was bad, and that he was despised in Ireland because he was thought to have no power to reward those who had done good service. He begged that they might be ‘fed with some thereof, which no doubt it is great need of, for the wisest sort have ever found that good service in Ireland has been less considered of any place.’
to Warwick,
and to Seymour.
In writing to Warwick his words were still stronger, and he complained bitterly at the slight put on him in the matter of the mint. ‘I am,’ he said, ‘at your honourable lordship’s commandment; but in respect I am the King’s Deputy, your good lordship may determine surely that I will have none exempt from my authority in Ireland’s ground, but sore against my will.’ He had not spent the King’s treasure in gambling or riotous living, nor in buying land for himself. The King’s responsible servants in Ireland were neglected, and credit given to backstairs’ suitors ‘coming in by the windows,’ which did more harm than all the rebels and Irishry in the realm. Some of Warwick’s letters had hurt him, whereas the true policy would be to let men ‘know that I am the King’s Deputy, so that they shall think when they have my favours things go well with them, and the contrary when they have them not.’ These letters, and another to Seymour, gave great, and not unnatural offence, so that Bellingham was fain to beg the admiral’s pardon and intercession with Warwick. Some measure of the serpent’s wisdom is necessary to those who fill great offices.[338]
Bellingham and the Irish.
If Bellingham could thus treat the most powerful men in England, he was not likely to mince matters with those whom he could touch. ‘Bring yourself,’ said the Lord Deputy to O’Molloy, who had wrongfully detained the property of a kinswoman, ‘out of the slander of the people by making prompt restitution, or have your contempt punished as to your deserts shall appertain.’ To the Earl of Thomond, who had promised to bring in Calough O’Carroll but had not done so, he wrote a noble letter, but a very imprudent one, considering the character and position of the chief whom he addressed. Calough O’Carroll, he said, had brought his troubles on himself by allowing his men to plunder, and by refusing to give them up; he should be well plagued for it according to promise, until he and his brother found means to come and seek their own pardon. The O’Carrolls submitted and were pardoned.[339]
Bellingham and his Council.
Bellingham was above all things a soldier, and he treated his Council, consisting for the most part of lawyers, in a very high-handed manner. His old friend Alen remonstrated, and there is no reason to doubt him here, though he had a way of quarrelling with successive Deputies. Alen admitted that Bellingham was quite free from pecuniary self-seeking, but thought he had more than his share of the other sin which beset chief governors, ambition namely, and the longing to rule alone. He had said that it would be a good deed to hang the whole Council, and he kept the members waiting for hours among the servants in the ante-room. Alen he accused personally of feigning sickness when bent on mischief. Others he threatened to commit if they offended him, reminding them that he could make or mar their fortunes. When angry he frequently sent men to a prison without any warrant of law; ‘and I myself,’ said the Chancellor, ‘except I walk warily, look for none other but some time with the King’s seal with me to take up my lodging in the castle of Dublin.’ The Council had become a lifeless, spiritless corpse, for Bellingham could hear no advice without threats and taunts. It is not surprising that Privy Councillors feared to speak frankly, and forced themselves to wait until this tyranny should be overpast.[340]
Bellingham seizes Desmond.