A little later Downham, Bishop of Derry, preaching before the Lord Deputy, denounced toleration in still more unmeasured terms. These outbursts of episcopal intolerance aroused the sympathy of the English House of Commons, who passed a resolution: “That the Popish religion is publicly professed in every part of Ireland, and that monasteries and nunneries are there newly erected and replenished with votaries of both sexes, which will be of evil consequence unless seasonably repressed.”[[62]]
The opposition of the Protestant bishops in Ireland and of their English sympathisers retarded for a considerable time the progress of the negotiations between the Government and the recusants; but in the spring of 1628 the agents of the latter had a personal interview with Charles at Whitehall, when an agreement was arrived at which, it was hoped, would prove satisfactory to all parties. In one important particular the concessions which were now promised were less liberal than those which in the preceding year the Catholics had been led to expect. Charles had then been willing to consent to the repeal of the Act which imposed a fine of one shilling on persons absent from the Protestant parish churches on Sundays. Out of deference, probably, to the protest of the episcopate, this concession was now withdrawn. But, in spite of this omission, “the Graces,” as they were called, were well calculated to redress the most serious grievances of the Irish. A new oath of a purely civil character was substituted for the Oath of Supremacy, and recusants were thus enabled to sue their liveries and to practise at the bar without fear of molestation. An undisturbed occupancy of sixty years was to afford a prescriptive title against all older claims of the Crown. The deficiencies in the titles of the Connaught landowners were to be supplied by an Act of the Parliament which, it was expected, would be shortly summoned. Other grievances of a more general kind, which affected Protestants no less than Catholics, were also remedied. In return for these concessions the Irish agents undertook to raise a “voluntary contribution” of £120,000, to be paid in quarterly instalments ranging over three years.[[63]]
It was arranged that the Irish Parliament should meet in November. The writs were issued, and some, at least, of the elections had actually taken place, when the English Council discovered that by summoning a Parliament without having first transmitted to England a statement of the Bills which it would have to consider, the Lord Deputy had been guilty of a technical violation of Poynings’ Act. The writs were accordingly cancelled, and the holding of the Parliament indefinitely postponed.[[64]] In spite of this disappointment the Irish, who had not yet fathomed the duplicity of their sovereign, paid the first instalments of the contribution with punctuality and were rewarded with a less rigorous execution of the penal statutes.
Falkland did not long retain office after this humiliating rebuff. The embarrassments which Charles anticipated from the promise of concessions which he was already anxious to evade made him eager to entrust the government of Ireland to stronger and more resolute hands, and a popular pretext was soon found for the recall of the obnoxious Deputy. During the reign of James, Falkland, urged on by Sir William Parsons, afterwards the notorious Lord Justice, had attempted to despoil a sept named O’Byrne by the kind of legal jugglery which was then fashionable, but had met with unexpected opposition from the English Government, which was beginning to entertain doubts of the merits of the Plantation system. A few years later he discovered, or professed to have discovered, a formidable conspiracy in which the O’Byrnes were involved. Phelim O’Byrne, the head of the sept, and his six sons were arrested, tried by a jury composed partly of their hereditary enemies, and partly of persons who coveted their estates, convicted and imprisoned, and their lands divided among English adventurers. In this transaction Falkland had received the support of a majority of the council with Lord Cork at their head, but had been opposed by a minority, among whom the Chancellor, Lord Loftus of Ely, and Sir Francis Annesley, afterwards Lord Mountnorris, were the most conspicuous. Neither Loftus nor Mountnorris were men of unblemished character, and their opposition to the Lord Deputy was probably due at least as much to personal jealousy as to any disinterested sympathy with his victims; but to whatever motives it is to be ascribed, there can be no doubt that their conduct was in this instance fully justified. In the autumn of 1628 these gentlemen induced Charles to institute an inquiry into the means by which the evidence against the O’Byrnes had been obtained. Falkland protested, but his protests were disregarded. It soon transpired that his Excellency had had good reason to desire concealment. The original accusers of the O’Byrnes turned out to have been criminals under sentence of death who had been released on undertaking to swear as the Lord Deputy desired. More respectable witnesses deposed that they had been compelled by torture to corroborate the evidence thus obtained. In consequence of this inquiry the O’Byrnes were released, but their lands were not restored to them.[[65]]
This exposure effectually destroyed what little reputation Falkland had left. In January, 1629, it was decided to recall him; but it was not until the following August that he surrendered the sword, having a few months previously issued a proclamation declaring that “the late intermission of legal proceedings against Popish pretended or titulary archbishops, bishops, abbots, deans, vicars-general, Jesuits, friars and others of that sort, that derive their pretended authority and orders from the see of Rome, hath bred such an extraordinary intolerance and presumption in them as that they have dared here of late not only to assemble themselves in public places to celebrate their superstitious services in all parts of this kingdom, but also have erected houses and buildings called public oratories, colleges, mass-houses, and convents of friars, monks and nuns in the eye and open view of the State, and, by colour of teaching and keeping schools in their pretended monasteries and colleges, do train up the youth of this kingdom in their superstitious religion, to the great degradation and contempt of his Majesty’s regal power and authority”; and commanding them in his Majesty’s name thenceforth to “forbear to preach, teach, or celebrate their service in any church, chapel, or other public oratory or place, or to teach any school in any place or places whatsoever within this kingdom.”[[66]]
After the dismissal of Falkland the administration of Irish affairs was entrusted to Lord Chancellor Loftus and to the Earl of Cork as Lords Justices. Adam Loftus, grandson and namesake of the first Protestant Archbishop of Dublin, brought to his high office an inherited instinct for peculation, which he transmitted in undiminished splendour to his descendants.[[67]] His colleague was in every respect a more remarkable man. Born at Canterbury in 1566 Richard Boyle came to Ireland at an early age with twenty-seven pounds in his pocket; obtained, by means of letters of introduction which were afterwards discovered to have been forged, one of those subordinate posts in the government of which the direct emoluments were small, but which afforded boundless opportunities for illegitimate gain; and, in the confiscations which followed the Desmond war, acquired one of the largest estates in Munster. Like most of the Munster planters he was for a while ruined by Tyrone’s rebellion, but more fortunate than many better men, eventually regained more than he had lost. In 1598 he was examined before the English Privy Council on a charge of holding treasonable correspondence with Spain; but, though his defence can scarcely be regarded as convincing, he succeeded, with his customary good fortune, not merely in outwitting his accusers but in recommending himself to the favour of his sovereign. During the reign of James, Boyle throve rapidly, and not only rose to some of the highest places in the State but built up a colossal fortune, which his family motto ascribed to the providence of God, but which, in the general estimation of his contemporaries, might be traced to a very different source. His uniform severity towards the Catholics has won for him from a certain school of historians the praise of exemplary piety; but an impartial student of his political career will probably pronounce him an unscrupulous adventurer, whose zeal against Popery sprang in large measure from a desire to enrich himself at the expense of the Papists.[[68]]
The Lord Chancellor was not less fanatical than his colleague; but, in spite of the identity of their political opinions, the personal feud between the two Lords Justices was so bitter that the king was obliged to send a special agent from England to compose it.[[69]] The reconciliation thus effected was superficial, but the two noblemen cordially co-operated in repressive measures against the recusants. An incident which took place not long afterwards throws a curious light on the temper of the governing faction and the precarious position of the Catholics. In the autumn of 1629, according to a contemporary Protestant writer, “the Romish Catholics began to rant it in Ireland, and to exercise their fancies called religion so publicly as if they had gained a toleration. For, whilst the Lords Justices were at church in Dublin on St. Stephen’s day, they were celebrating Mass, which the Lords Justices taking notice of, they sent the Archbishop of Dublin, the mayor, sheriffs and recorder of the town to apprehend them, which they did, taking away the crucifixes, chalices and paraments of the altar, the soldiers hewing down the image of St. Francis. The priests and friars were delivered into the hands of the pursuivants, at whom the people threw stones and rescued them. The Lords Justices, informed of this, sent a guard and delivered them, and clapt eight Popish aldermen by the heels for not attending their mayor. Upon the account of this presumption fifteen houses, by direction from the Lords of the Council here, were seized to the King’s use, and the friars and priests so persecuted as two hanged themselves in their own defence.”[[70]] The persecution, which had begun in the capital, was rapidly extended throughout the country. During the next three years numerous monasteries and convents were dissolved. In the summer of 1630, a university which the Catholics, who were excluded from Trinity College by the Oath of Supremacy, had recently erected for their own use, was suppressed, and its revenues transferred to its Protestant rival. Two years later a shrine of St. Patrick in Lough Derg, which was much frequented by pilgrims, and was regarded by the people with a veneration no less national than religious, was, by order of the Lords Justices, dug up and destroyed.[[71]]
These oppressive proceedings were, no doubt, acceptable to the English Council; but in other respects the administration of the Lords Justices could not be considered satisfactory. A Parliament was again promised, and again postponed. By the beginning of 1632 the revenue showed a deficit, the pay of the troops was in arrear, the coast was exposed to the attacks of Moorish pirates, and the public buildings—arsenals, churches, even Dublin Castle itself—were everywhere in decay. The voluntary contribution would soon be at an end, and it was unlikely that the Catholics, who had begun to suspect the king’s sincerity in the matter of the Graces, would consent to renew it. Their lordships could think of no means of meeting expenses except the enforcement of the shilling fines.[[72]]
Such was the condition of affairs when Thomas Wentworth assumed the government of Ireland. His appointment bears date January, 1632, but it was not until the middle of the succeeding year that he proceeded to Dublin.[[73]] Before leaving England he had contrived with characteristic dexterity to relieve the financial embarrassments of the Government. Cork and Loftus had, as we have seen, been anxious to exact the recusancy fines. Wentworth took care that their wishes should be generally known. He then despatched an agent, himself a Catholic, to negociate secretly with his co-religionists. This gentleman informed the leading recusants that the Lord Deputy was averse to persecution, but that, if no other means could be devised for the relief of the king’s necessities, he would be compelled to act upon the Lords Justices’ advice. Alarmed at this intimation and eager to conciliate one who might prove either a dangerous enemy or a most valuable friend, the Catholics agreed to levy an additional “voluntary contribution” of £20,000. The Protestants, who were wholly dependent on the Government, did not venture to resist.[[74]]
The sum thus obtained was sufficient for his immediate requirements; but, in order that the finances might be placed on a satisfactory basis, it was necessary that the Irish Parliament, which had not met for nearly twenty years, should be again summoned. The step was certain to be popular, and Wentworth was eager to take it; but it was difficult to convince Charles, whose experience of Parliamentary government in England had not been happy, of its wisdom. The Lord Deputy, who prided himself, not without reason, upon his powers of parliamentary management, explained with great frankness the course which he intended to adopt. As soon as the Houses met they were to be informed that business would be extended over two sessions; the first of which was to be devoted to the relief of the king’s necessities, and the second to “the enacting of all such profitable and wholesome laws as a moderate and good people may expect from a wise and gracious king.” With the hope of a ratification of the Graces thus dangled before them, the Commons might be relied upon to grant supplies for the next three years; and when the money had been voted the Government could fulfil as much or as little of their engagements as they found convenient. His Majesty had no reason to be afraid of any dangerous exhibition of Parliamentary independence. Apart from the restrictions imposed by Poynings’ Act, which made the Irish Parliament a mere instrument for registering the decrees of the English Privy Council, that body was so constituted as to be wholly at the mercy of the Castle. In the Upper House the bishops and the English adventurers who had been ennobled during the preceding reign gave the Government a permanent majority over the old national aristocracy. The management of the Lower House would be more difficult; but Wentworth undertook to secure a majority by tampering with the elections as Chichester had done. In one respect his task differed from Chichester’s. In 1613 the entire body of the Protestants had been on the side of the Government, and the Lord Deputy had been able to make sure of a majority by multiplying boroughs wherever the colonists predominated. Since that date the breach between the court party and the Puritans had grown wider, and a large proportion of the new settlers were now scarcely less hostile to the administration than the Catholics. Wentworth had accordingly determined so to manage the elections “as that neither the recusants nor yet the Protestants shall appear considerably more one than the other, holding them as much as may be upon an equal balance”; and at the same time to procure the return from some of the smaller and more corrupt constituencies of “captains and officers, who, having immediate dependence upon the Crown, may sway the business betwixt the two parties which way they please.”[[75]] With many misgivings Charles consented to the experiment. “As to that hydra,” he wrote, “take good heed, for you know I have here found it cunning as well as malicious.” “I fear,” he added, with an obvious recollection of his unlucky promises, “they have some ground to demand more than is fit for me to give.”[[76]]