Williamite and Jacobite. 1660-1702

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CHAPTER IX***

Williamite and Jacobite***

1660-1702**

“Lo, this only have I found, that God hath made man upright; but they have sought out many inventions.”- *Ecclesiastes. *

When “the King came to his own again” Ormond was well rewarded for his fidelity to the Stuart cause. He was raised to the highest rank in the peerage, a dukedom, and reappointed to his old position as Lord Lieutenant. The parliament, which met in Dublin in 1661, enthusiastically voted £30,000 to the incoming viceroy, while the municipal authorities entertained him with banquets, fireworks, and pageants.

The city, which had been among the first to declare for the Restoration, was specially honoured by the King. The mayor received a gold chain as a mark of royal favour, and was allowed to dignify his office by styling himself the “Right Honourable the Lord Mayor.” The Irish capital was recognised as being no longer a mere provincial town, but the chief city of a large portion of the King’s dominions, and entitled to the same privileges and distinctions as London or Edinburgh.

The metropolis seemed to rise to its true position. During the reign of Charles II. it expanded on all sides, especially to the east and north. For centuries the inhabitants, fearing mountaineers and marauders, had huddled together in the network of narrow streets that was enclosed by the city walls, and protected by the towers of the castle. Cork Hill was their eastern boundary, the river their northern, S. James’s Gate, now the site of Guinness’s great brewery, was the western entrance, while S Patrick’s Cathedral lay in the suburbs some hundred yards outside the southern gate. The north bank of the river was probably destitute of human habitation save for a little cluster of buildings around S. Michan’s Church and the derelict S. Mary’s Abbey.

The common called Oxmantown Green covered the greater part of the district now enclosed between the northern quays and the North Circular Road. This wide tract was now laid out for building and soon became the most fashionable quarter of Dublin, a position which it held till some 50 years ago, when its patrons forsook it and went to live in the southern suburbs or along the shores of the bay.

Ormond was viceroy for some years of this period, and probably inspired most of the schemes for the improvement of the city. He was a man of the type of Chesterfield, stately and dignified, yet urbane, well-mannered, and witty. The people have a great liking for a grand seigneur of this kind. During his two terms of office there was a continual interchange of compliments and presents between the Tholsel, or Town Hall, and the Castle.

The first extension of Dublin was towards Stephen’s Green, one of the three ancient commons, where the cattle of the burghers were allowed to graze. Hoggen Green, later called College Green, had been already occupied by Trinity College and the new suburban thoroughfare of Dame Street, which connected it with the Castle and the city proper. The outskirts of Stephen’s Green were now divided into lots and disposed of to various purchasers, the proceeds to go towards enclosing the central space with a wall and planting it with trees.

Oxmantown Green, portions of which still survive in Blackhall Place and Smithfield, was treated in much the same way. The wealthier traders built themselves houses and laid out gardens in the new quarter away from the congestion and squalor of the central streets.

royalhosp2.gif (22902 bytes)As Oxmantown lay to the north of the Liffey, its occupation made it necessary to increase the number of bridges over the river. While S. Michan’s Church and a few houses round it constituted the only parish on the further bank, one bridge had proved sufficient for the traffic. To accommodate the rising suburb no less than four were built in rapid succession. Two were called after Ormond and his son Arran, another, after a subsequent viceroy, Essex, while the fourth, which was a wooden structure, received the ill-omened title of the Bloody Bridge, from a fierce riot at its opening between the soldiers and the apprentices. The latter had probably been instigated to disorder by the owners of profitable ferries rendered useless by the new erection. About this period, too, the northern suburb was given a fine river front by the construction of a line of ornamental quays along the left bank of the river.

At the same time Dublin, as if conscious of her destiny, began a series of great public buildings, fitted to adorn any capital in Europe. The Royal Hospital at Kilmainham was built as a home for Irish veteran soldiers. Its quaint piazza and graceful tower are from the designs of Sir Christopher Wren. A portion of Oxmantown Green was utilised for the site of a free school on the model of Christ’s Hospital in London. This is the present Bluecoat School in Blackhall Place. As though it were intended to compensate the citizens eventually for the loss of their ancient commons, Ormond commenced to lay out the spacious Phoenix Park. It was originally intended as a hunting-ground and pleasaunce for the viceroys only, but was soon thrown open to the public generally.

After the troubles of the Puritan epoch, Dublin enjoyed comparative peace during the reign of Charles II. The Catholics were completely submissive, their spirits apparently broken by the cruelties of Cromwell. Many of them left the country in despair and placed their swords at the disposal of France and Spain.

Those that remained enjoyed a precarious toleration, liable to be curtailed at any moment by the whim of a viceroy or the popular panic excited by a supposed popish plot. They were made to realise distinctly their inferiority. No office, in State or city, could be held by a Catholic, unless he chose to take an oath which was practically an abjuration of his faith. The King, however, as far as possible, favoured their creed, and his influence procured some relaxation of the laws against them.

The Protestant Episcopal Church, ever a close ally of the monarchy, was restored to its former position. The Puritans of Dublin petitioned for the establishment of the Presbyterian form of worship, but found themselves forestalled. The first act of the new government was to appoint 12 new bishops to the vacant Irish sees. The whole dozen were consecrated together in S. Patrick’s Cathedral. Jeremy Taylor, the most poetic and spiritual of preachers, was one of their number and occupied the pulpit on the occasion. The anthem used at the ceremony has been preserved. It is more remarkable for its loyalty and orthodoxy than for either devotional feeling or literary merit.

“Angels, look down, and joy to see,

Like that above, a monarchie;

Angels, look down, and joy to see,

Like that above, a hierarchie.”

Many of the courtiers of Charles II. were jealous of the brilliant Ormond. Buckingham, especially, was his bitter enemy. Intrigues were continually set on foot against the viceroy. It was insinuated that his rigid principle and decided Protestantism rendered him an unfit instrument for a king with a strong tendency to Catholicism and arbitrary government.

In 1669, after eight years of office, he was recalled in disgrace. But his prestige and popularity were such that Charles was eventually obliged to restore him to his old post, which he held until the accession of James II. During his eclipse Ormond had taken a quiet revenge on his foes by the only method which he might use and they could appreciate, the making of epigrams.

Colonel Cary Dillon entreated Ormond’s assistance at court, saying he had no friend but God and the duke. “Alas! poor Cary,” said the latter, “thou couldst not have named two friends of less interest or less respected there.”

The friendly relations between the Castle and the Tholsel were broken off during the supersession of Ormond. Essex, viceroy during this period, met with a stubborn resistance in his attempt to manipulate the corporation of Dublin in accordance with the royal wishes. The commons of the city refused to admit strangers and Catholics to the franchise. Even at the Lord Lieutenant’s orders they would not erase the record of their disobedience from the minutes of the assembly. They boldly questioned the claims of the King’s representative to override the laws of the land and the ancient privileges of their town. Essex was baffled. In face of the watchful hostility of the Country Party in England, he dared not push matters to extremes. He resigned soon afterwards, and the impecunious and profligate King is said to have offered the vacant post for sale. No one presented himself however.

Public attention had just been called to the nobleman, who might justly claim the reversion of the office. Ormond had narrowly escaped assassination at the hands of Colonel Blood, one of the most picturesque and daring ruffians in history. This man, whose name well suggests his character, had headed a hare-brained attack on Dublin Castle soon after the Restoration, and was destined to make a celebrated attempt to seize the Crown jewels in the Tower of London. Blood stopped the Duke’s coach and dragged him out.

Nothing hindered him from murdering his helpless enemy there and then, but Blood’s fondness for the sensational brought about his defeat. He determined to hang his captive at Tyburn so as to astonish all London next morning with the sight of “better company at Tyburn Tree” than the footpads and highwaymen who usually swung there. The delay gave Qrmond’s servants time to come up and rescue their master. This outrage produced a revulsion in the Duke’s favour. He was again sent to Ireland as viceroy and conducted the government there until the accession of James II.

On his arrival he found the breach between the two religions wider than ever. The Catholics, believing themselves supported by Charles and his brother James, Duke of York, were becoming bolder in their attitude.

The Protestants, dreading a recurrence of the scenes of 1641 in the event of a Catholic triumph, and alarmed by stories of plots and intended massacres, clamoured for severe measures against the rival creed. Ormond favoured his own co-religionists and issued proclamations against the Catholics. Papists were not to be admitted within the walls of Dublin Castle, and, as far as possible, were excluded from the fortified towns of Ireland.

The Catholics throughout the country were disarmed, their priests banished from the kingdom. Peter Talbot, Archbishop of Dublin, though his ill-health might have precluded suspicions, was imprisoned in the Castle, where he lingered, slowly dying of kidney disease.

In 1685 James II. ascended the throne, fully determined to restore Britain to the religion it had rejected a century before. Ormond was soon recalled. His successor was a Protestant, but a mere man of straw. Ireland was practically governed by the Catholic Talbot, Earl of Tyrconnell, who was made commander-in-chief. He was a reckless, hasty man, by no means fitted for the task of quietly engineering a revolution in a country seething with bitterness and distrust.

The Protestants, to their alarm and disgust, found themselves treated as they had treated others in the past. They were disarmed and excluded from official positions. An attempt was made to deprive them of the lands, which had once belonged to the native Irish, but had been confiscated by the government after the rebellion and conferred on Cromwellian troopers or faithful Royalists. In 1687 Tyrconnell became Lord Lieutenant. Something like a panic reigned among the English inhabitants at the news. The quays of Dublin were thronged with families fleeing in terror from the country.

Yet one class of Protestants doggedly held by the city, determined to endure all rather than go on their wanderings a second time. These were the French Huguenots, persecuted at home by Louis XIV. until they fled to seek religious freedom across the Channel. They had settled in Dublin in great numbers and brought with them their trade of weaving. For many years they formed a little French colony in Dublin, having their own little churches and marrying, christening and burying in their own tongue and according to their own rites. Many of them rose to great eminence. Latouche’s Bank and D’Olier Street preserved the names of Huguenot immigrants.

James II., the most pusillanimous of monarchs, abandoned two of his kingdoms to William of Orange without striking a blow. Somewhat tardily he made up his mind to fight for the third. The Irish rallied enthusiastically round a king of their own faith, and Louis XIV. sent assistance from France. James entered Dublin in triumph in a great procession accompanied by ecclesiastics in gorgeous vestments bearing the Host. Tyrconnell handed over the Castle to his master.

In all Ireland only the two northern towns of Londonderry and Enniskillen held out against the royal forces. James went north to view the operations against Derry, but soon returned to the safer and more congenial task of holding a parliament of his sympathisers. The English connection and the Protestant establishment were alike abolished. The Mass was again celebrated in Christ Church. Trinity College was used as a barracks and a prison for recalcitrants. Its chapel was turned into a powder magazine. Most of the fellows had fled to England, but four had the courage to stand by their old home. James meditated handing over the college to the Jesuits. A Roman Catholic provost was appointed, who, at a time when the college was daily thronged by turbulent soldiery, did a great service to learning in Ireland by preserving intact the treasures of the library.

James’s great need was money. Troops he had in plenty, but no pay for them. He resorted to an expedient long remembered against him. The coinage was debased to an almost incredible extent. To quote Leland, “brass and copper of the basest kind, old cannon. broken bells, household utensils, were assiduously collected; and from every pound weight of such vile materials, valued at fourpence, pieces were coined and circulated to the amount of five pounds in nominal value.”

When brass and copper grew scarce, still baser coin was issued, made of tin and pewter. The citizens were compelled to give good bread and meat for these wretched counters. In Orange toasts, to this day, King William is hailed as the deliverer of Ireland as well from “brass money” as from “popery and arbitrary government.”

The war went steadily against the Jacobites. Derry was relieved after enduring the agonies of slow starvation. The Enniskillen men did not wait to be besieged. They sallied out to Newtownbutler and defeated in the open field the army sent to invest their city. William and his aged Huguenot general Schomberg landed in Ulster and marched on Dublin.

Cloudesley Shovel’s fleet hovered round the bay and cut off a convoy destined for France. The Irish troops lined the Boyne to prevent William’s passage southward. But, under the command of the incompetent James, they were no match for their veteran opponents. Important fords were left unguarded, and a whole English division crossed unmolested to fall on the Irish flank.

The late King of Great Britain and Ireland took the greatest care of himself, while the Prince of Orange exposed himself fearlessly. A cannon-shot went so near to killing him that rejoicings for his death were ordered in Dublin and, later, in Paris. William and Schomberg headed their men in the dash across the fords of the Boyne.

The Huguenot general, now over 80 years of age, was killed while rallying his compatriots for a charge. The Irish were completely routed, their king himself beginning the flight and being the first to arrive at Dublin with the news of his defeat. There is a story of his laying all the blame of the disaster on his troops. “The wretched Irish ran,” said he. ” Yes,” retorted an Irish lady, “but apparently Your Majesty ran faster.” James shook the dust of Dublin and Ireland off his feet and returned to France.

During the interval which elapsed between the evacuation of the Irish and the occupation by King William, order was maintained in Dublin by a member of the ancient Fitzgerald family. The dispossessed Protestant aldermen, who still claimed to be the only lawful municipal body in the city, emerged from their concealment and were confirmed in their authority by the King. The Anglophile party in Ireland were more afraid of Catholicism than ever.

The dismal history of persecution begins all over again. A penal code was enacted surpassing all its predecessors in its stupid brutality. Catholics could not teach, keep arms, purchase land or rent it on long lease, vote at elections, hold any office or even possess a horse worth more than £5. These measures were forced on William, naturally a tolerant man, by the dominant party in both countries.

The only satisfactory points about the whole saddening record are firstly, that it is the last religious persecution in Irish history, and, secondly, that its more outrageous provisions were rendered a dead letter by the kindly connivance of Protestant magistrates entrusted with the execution of the laws.

After the Revolution, just as after the Restoration, the city entered on a career of improvement and expansion. The dissenters, having proved loyal, were now more liberally treated. Meeting - houses were erected in Dublin by the Presbyterians and the Quakers. The latter had been subjected to some persecution under Charles II. Their conscientious objections to paying tithes, closing their shops on church festivals, removing their hats or giving sworn testimony in courts of justice, had caused them to be regarded as a pack of noxious faddists, meriting the stocks or the gaol. But they gradually wore down the public prejudices and, like the Huguenots, became an important factor in Dublin commercial life.

The Library Square in Trinity College was commenced about this time. Lamps were erected to light the streets, replacing the old haphazard device, by which every fifth house was compelled to put out a candle or a lantern on dark nights. The mayoral collar of SS, so called from the shape of its links, which had been presented by Charles II., had disappeared in 1688. It is probable that it was appropriated to the needs of government, like the Trinity College plate seized about the same time. William III. presented another of the same pattern, which is still used.

The mayor who received this mark of royal favour was a naturalised Dutchman, Bartholomew Vanhomrigh, father of Swift’s unhappy Vanessa. In 1685 the first Dublin newspaper was published, a single sheet 12 inches long by six inches wide, about the size of a modern handbill or circular.

A statue, the oldest still standing in the city, was erected to William III. in College Green. The Protestants almost idolised this monument, decking it with orange ribbons on festival days, and compelling all who passed by to do it reverence. The Catholic Jacobites retaliated by nocturnal insults and gunpowder outrages directed against the unfortunate effigy. However, the war of creeds slowly died out.

The parliamentary struggle for Irish autonomy took its rise towards the end of William III.’s reign. The English parliament, under the influence of traders jealous of the growing manufactures and commerce of Ireland, used its power to cripple the prosperity of its dependency. The bankrupt merchants of Dublin, with all their loyalty, felt with Shylock that

“You take my life, when you do take the means

Whereby I live.”

The right of the assembly in London, where no Irishmen attended, to pass laws affecting the whole unrepresented territory of Ireland, rested on little basis except prescription. It was now boldly challenged by William Molyneux, a member for Dublin University in the Irish parliament. His book, called “The Case of Ireland,” excited the indignation of the English Commons to such an extent that they ordered it to be burnt by the common hangman.

It is easy to burn books, and even to burn men, but not to burn ideas. The seed sown by Molyneux bore fruit in the constitutional struggle for Irish autonomy which lasted all through the 18th century. The capital was the centre of the fight throughout.

The Celtic gift of eloquence, which had lain dormant for centuries, at last found a vent. The old Parliament House resounded with the splendid oratory of generations of fervent and ardent patriots, while College Green outside was blocked by crowds waiting to acclaim the popular leaders and hoot the ministry. It is a singular contrast to the endless raids, sieges and skirmishes which precede this period, and to the dull, half-discontented apathy consequent on the Union, which marked its termination.

Protestant Ascendancy. 1702-1760. To Chart Index. Home.