"Lord Ranelagh. I am ready to do so whenever your majesty commands."

His lordship being withdrawn, the lord-keeper said, surely to give obedience to your majesty's commands is no mismanagement, nor ought to be reputed as such. Whereupon it was ordered that lord Ranelagh should give in a state of the fact, and the particulars of the mismanagement for the ten years before his undertaking.

Lord Ranelagh continued to spin out the time in various delays, for several months, but was at length compelled on an application from the duke to bring forth his statement. It was replied to by the duke, in a paper of considerable length, and remarkable clearness and ability.* On a full investigation of both statements before the council, the king declared the duke's statement to be perfectly satisfactory. On this head, it only remains to be added, that on the subsequent examination of lord Ranelagh's own accounts, they were not found so clear from fault, as the result was a decree against him for £76,000, and he was only enabled to escape the consequences by obtaining the king's pardon.

The discussion was in the highest degree serviceable to Ireland, as it placed before the king and council a most plain and perspicuous view of Irish affairs, and enabled them to perceive the selfish intrigues of which that kingdom had been the principal victim, with the comparative merits and demerits of the parties by whom they had been carried on; and lastly, the conspicuous integrity and wisdom of the entire conduct of the duke of Ormonde. This result was soon apparent: in the month of April, 1677, the king who, for a year had avoided speaking to the duke, sent a message that he would come and sup with him. He came accordingly: the entertainment was costly, and the conversation was gay, unrestrained and cordial; but all passed without the slightest allusion to political affairs, until the king was departing, when he signified to the duke his design to employ him again in Ireland, for the government of which he publicly declared him to be the fittest person. Of this indeed every one was fully sensible, insomuch that nothing but the baneful influence of court intrigues and interests had prevented the fact from being sooner recognised. But a court intrigue was now in effect the means of removing the obstruction which had so long withheld the king from doing justice. The duke of York, who hated the duke of Ormonde for his protestant zeal, was now alarmed by an endeavour to obtain the government of Ireland for the duke of Monmouth, whose intrigues to be declared heir to the throne of England might in the event become formidable. To avert this consequence, all other sacrifices of prejudice were slight, and none but a person of the first talent and integrity, whose appointment would satisfy the nation and arrest the expectation of the bastard prince, could be relied upon. Under this sense the duke of York not only withdrew his opposition, but it is thought lent himself warmly to the appointment of one whose character he respected, and in whose stanch and untainted honesty and firmness he had the fullest confidence.

The duke of Ormonde set out for Ireland in the beginning of August. On his way he stopped at Oxford, and was splendidly received and

*This will be found in Carte, II. 454.

entertained by the university, as its chancellor. He had deferred his arrival until after commencements; as it was feared that he might be pressed to give degrees to many persons of rank in his train, whose pretensions were not acceptable to the university. Though the usual time was past, and the ceremonial of commencements over, many were urgent in soliciting for the honour of a degree; but the duke only created twenty doctors, one of whom was his son, the earl of Arran, and the viscounts Galmoy and Longford, Robert Fitz-Gerald a son of the earl of Kildare, and some other gentlemen of high rank, all being of his own immediate retinue.

The earl of Essex had received permission to consult his own choice, as to the manner of resigning the government; and his conduct was complimentary to his successor. He would in any other case have delivered the regalia to the lords-justices; but as he wrote in his letter of April 28th-" since his majesty hath been pleased to pitch upon a person who had so much experience in all the affairs of this kingdom, and so eminent for his loyalty, this made him stay till his grace should arrive, that he might himself put the sword into his hand:" he not only remained for the duke's arrival, but himself ordered the ceremonies with which he was to be received.

The duke had upon former occasions suffered so much vexation on account of the frauds which had been committed by those who had been entrusted with the revenue departments, that he now made it his special care to endeavour to detect and control all malversations of this description. For this purpose the king's instructions were so framed as to bring all orders concerning grants, money, the releasing or abating of agents on crown debts, under the control of English officers, after being submitted to the investigation of the lord-lieutenant. So that he was no longer liable to be made answerable for mismanagement, neglect or fraud, which he had no power to control. Other arrangements of the like effectual nature, were made to guard against the alienation of any part of the revenue, until the civil and military establishments should first be fully provided for. And by these, and a variety of wise provisions and precautions suggested or adopted by the duke, the army was brought into condition, and the whole establishment rendered efficient and economical.

During the three years which it required to effect these great and beneficial changes, the duke managed to effect many public improvements: he laid the foundation of the military hospital near Kilmainham, and built Charlesfort to secure the harbour of Kinsale. Every fort in the kingdom was in ruin, and the expenses necessary to put the country into a state of defence, were found, on accurate inspection, to be so far beyond any means at his command, that he considered it advisable to call a parliament. Many evils were to be remedied, and many abuses in the settlements of property to be corrected, to quiet the apprehensions of the public, and repress the progress of an oppressive and exasperating chicanery on the pretence of commissions of inquiry; and the king assented to the duke's wish; but the explosion of that vile conspiracy, known by the name of the popish plot, broke out, and for a time put a stop to every other proceeding.

*Carte, II. 46.

The difficulties into which the duke was thus thrown, were not inconsiderable. The impression produced by the belief of this imposture in Ireland was likely to affect two opposite parties: there were those who would be but too ready to enter with alacrity into any disaffected action; and there were those who would give way to suspicion and terror, and exert the utmost of their influence to carry precaution to the extreme of unjust severity. Against both the duke had to guard: he took effectual means of prevention and restraint, without resorting to any harshness; and by his mild, though firm precautions, completely kept off the dangerous infection of that spurious conspiracy-the most strange compound of insane credulity and infamous perjury that stains the records of history.

In the course of these proceedings, which demand no tedious detail, the duke did not altogether escape from the usual efforts of his enemies to calumniate him, and of violent political parties to influence his conduct, according to their views. He held his course, unmoved by any petty influences or considerations, carrying progressively into effect such measures as tended to strengthen the security and the commercial interests of the country. He held an even balance without giving licence to the Romish persuasion, or lessening the security of the church of England: and so far was this spirit of moderation carried in opposition to the clamour of missionaries of every persuasion, that he was alternately accused on the opposite allegations of being a protestant, or a popish governor, as best suited the design of the opposing party: as he has himself remarked in a letter to Sir Robert Southwell:"It hath been my fortune, upon several occasions, to be taken by the papists to be their greatest enemy, when it was thought that character would have done me the greatest hurt: and sometimes to be their greatest friend, when that would hurt me:" further on in the same letter, he writes in reference to the rumours of conspiracy against his life, by which it was constantly endeavoured to influence him; "it seems now to be the papists' turn to endeavour to despatch me; the other non-conformists have had theirs, and may have again, when they shall be inspired from the same place, for different reasons, to attempt the same thing. I know the danger I am and may be in, is a perquisite belonging to the place I am in; and so much envied for being in; but I will not be frighted into a resignation, and will be found alive or dead in it, till the same hand that placed me shall remove me. I know well that I am born with some disadvantages, in relation to the present conjuncture, besides my natural weakness and infirmities; and such as I can no more free myself from, than I can from them. My father lived and died a papist; and only I, by God's merciful providence, was educated in the true protestant religion, from which I never swerved towards either extreme, not when it was most dangerous to profess it, and most advantageous to quit it. I reflect not upon any who have held another course, but will charitably hope, that though their changes happened to be always on the prosperous side, yet they were made by the force of present conviction. My brothers and sisters, though they were not very many, were very fruitful, and very obstinate (they will call it constant) in their way; their fruitfulness hath spread into a large alliance, and their ob

stinacy hath made it altogether popish. It would be no small comfort to me, if it had pleased God, it had been otherwise, that I might have enlarged my industry to do them good, and serve them, more effectually to them, and more safely to myself. But as it is, I am taught by nature, and also by instruction, that difference in opinion concerning matters of religion, dissolves not the obligations of nature; and in conformity to this principle, I own not only that I have done, but that I will do my relations of that or any other persuasion all the good I can. But I profess at the same time, that if I find any of them who are nearest to me acting or conspiring rebellion, or plotting against the government and the religion established amongst us, I will endeavour to bring them to punishment sooner than the remotest stranger to my blood. I know professions of this kind are easily made, and therefore sometimes little credited; but I claim some belief from my known practice, having been so unfortunate as to have had my kinsmen in rebellion; and so fortunate as to see some of them when I commanded in chief. Those that remain have, I hope, changed their principles, as to rebellion; if they have not, I am sure they shall not find I have changed mine."

At this period lord Shaftesbury, who was among the most violent and dangerous enemies of the duke of Ormonde, suddenly changed his party, and with them, in some measure, his grounds of hostility. For a time he was engaged in the interests of the court, and exerted his whole talent and zeal for the establishment of arbitrary power, and the unconstitutional extension of the prerogative. While thus engaged, it was his aim, as it had been that of the most licentious and unsteady, but not more unprincipled Buckingham, to unseat the duke of Ormonde, from the mere desire to obtain the lieutenancy of Ireland and his place in the court: and being himself without any religion, he made it his business to represent the duke as the enemy of toleration, and as the persecutor of the Romish church. But the king having made concessions to the Commons, which impressed him with a conviction that the line of policy he had pursued must not only fail, but eventually lead to consequences dangerous to those by whom it had been promoted and pursued, Shaftesbury at once changed sides, and with a versatility at which no one was surprised, for his character was thoroughly known, adopted the opinions and embraced the courses to which he had been most diametrically opposed: he gave most unconcernedly the lie to his whole life, in such a manner as would stamp his memory with disgrace, were it not in some measure rescued by the lax morality among the statesmen of every age. By the change he was transferred into better company, and engaged in a course more honourable and beneficial in its ends, though his motives continued as base, and the means he pursued neither more honest nor more wise. He remained as much the enemy of the duke of Ormonde as before: and as he had from the court side, endeavoured to stigmatize him as the enemy of the papists, from that of the country party he accused him of being their friend. By his violence, his daring courses, and unscrupulous assertions, he gained upon the fiery zeal and the party prejudice of the people and the house, and gained an ascendant which made him dangerous to his personal opponents, and formidable to the court. Considering the duke of Ormonde

as a main obstacle to the great design of promoting an insurrection in Ireland, he strained every nerve not only to raise a strong party against him, but to collect sufficient complaints to form articles of impeachment. He made a speech in the lords' house, in which he cast out several insinuations to the effect that the duke of Ormonde was in favour of the papists, than which no charge could at the moment be more injurious. He was replied to by lord Ossory, in a speech which attracted great celebrity, and was compelled to retract his base and unwarranted calumnies.

The duke, on learning of these movements among his enemies, pressed strongly for leave to return to England. "I am now," he writes to the secretary, 66 come to an age so fit for retirement, that I would be content to purchase it at any rate but that of dishonour or prejudice to my fortune and family." But the king was about to dissolve the parliament, and saw no reason why the duke should leave Ireland at a moment so critical. The earl of Arlington having mentioned to him the report that the duke was to be removed, he told him, "it was a damned lie, and that he was satisfied while he was there, that the kingdom was safe.” He added that "the new ministry were for jostling out his old faithful servants, and that while the duke of Ormonde lived, he should never be put out of that government."

The object of Shaftesbury and his portion, with regard to Ireland, was mainly to contrive an insurrection; and for this purpose they set on foot every spring of action they could grasp. They were unprincipled men, who had mainly their own private interests at heart; but it would be unfair to confound a small cabal of political adventurers with the large and respectable body by whom they were supported; like the leaders of every party in every age, whose views are their own, but their strength is the public feeling, which they are compelled to serve and not unwilling to betray, if treachery will serve their ends better than good faith. Justice is due to the party, however we may estimate the partisan. The duke of York's religion at the time was the subject of great anxiety to the English public. Nor was it less the subject of apprehension to all those who were attached to the royal family. Should the duke succeed to the throne, the worst consequences were generally apprehended to the church and protestant interests of the kingdom: with more justice it was to be apprehended, that disaffection and revolutionary action would be likely to set in, to an extent dangerous to the throne. The duke alone, infatuated, rash, bigoted, and without judgment, unconscious of the real dangers by which he was surrounded, only thought to avail himself of a favourable juncture to increase the power of the crown, and to prepare the way for the greater changes of which he contemplated the execution. This feeble and narrowminded prince did not despair of effecting a revolution in favour of his own church; and, availing him of the increasing indolence of the king, whose chief concern was the lethargic luxury of the sensual stye, to which he had converted the British court, he became alert and busy in the management of public affairs. The consequence was a strong underworking of a most dangerous reaction, to the increase and diffusion of which even those recent plots and exposures which appeared to give an advantage to the court party in reality contributed. Though