The History of Ireland: 17th Century. Bagwell Richard

with the least jot of disloyalty,’ did not altogether escape the contagion. In the latter town a chapel had long been connived at, but the municipal officers firmly repressed the agitation and even committed a man who had ventured to express a hope of open toleration. Mountjoy declared himself satisfied, but a note in his hand shows that he was still suspicious. Probably he thought it wiser not to have north and south upon his hands at the same time.[2]

      Disturbances at Kilkenny and Thomastown.

      Kilkenny and other towns submit.

On the evening of March 26, Carey reached Holyrood with the news of Queen Elizabeth’s death, and on the 28th Mountjoy was appointed Lord Deputy by Privy Seal. Before this was known in Ireland the Council there had elected him Lord Justice according to ancient precedent; so that practically there was no interregnum. Ulster was now almost quiet, and the Viceroy could draw enough troops from thence to make any resistance by the corporate towns quite hopeless. On April 27 he marched southwards with about 1,200 foot, of whom one-third were Irish, and 200 horse. At Leighlin he was joined by Ormonde, who had been opposed by the Kilkenny people acting under the advice of Dr. James White of Waterford, a Jesuit, and of a Dominican friar named Edmund Barry, who was said to be James Fitzmaurice’s son. Ormonde was accompanied by Sir Richard Shee, the sovereign, who was an adherent of his, and Mountjoy was easily induced to pardon the townsmen upon their making humble submission. Dr. White was vicar-apostolic in Waterford, and his authority seems to have been recognised in Ossory also, there being at this time no papal bishop in either diocese. He forbade the people to hear mass privately, and enjoined them to celebrate it openly in the churches, some of which he reconsecrated. Barry went so far as to head a mob in attacking the suppressed convent of his order, which was used as a sessions-house. The benches and fittings were broken up, and the conqueror said mass in the desecrated church. This friar came to Mountjoy, said that he had believed himself to be acting in a way agreeable to the King, and promised to offend no further now that his Majesty’s pleasure to the contrary was known. The Lord Deputy did not enter Kilkenny, but went straight to Thomastown, which had behaved in the same way. The town being small and penitent, it was thought punishment enough that the army should halt there for the night. Wexford had already fully submitted by letter, and Mountjoy marched from Thomastown to within four miles of Waterford, and there he encamped on the fourth day after leaving Dublin.[3]

      Mountjoy at Waterford.

      Odium theologicum

      An absolute monarch.

The Suir at Waterford was unbridged until 1794, and the citizens doubtless thought that Mountjoy would be long delayed upon the left bank. But Ormonde, who had proclaimed King James at Carrick some weeks before, now brought enough boats from that place to carry over the whole army. Mountjoy encamped at Gracedieu, about a mile and a half above the city. There could now be no question of resistance, but some of the citizens came out and pleaded that by King John’s charter they were not obliged to admit either English rebel or Irish enemy, though they would receive the Deputy and his suite. As against a viceroy this argument was in truth ridiculous, and the Lord Deputy had only to say that his was the army which had suppressed both rebels and enemies. If resistance were offered he would cut King John’s charter with King James’s sword. It was then urged that the mayor had no force to restrain the mob unless the popular leaders could be gained over. Mountjoy consented to see Dr. White—who had just preached a sermon at St. Patrick’s, in which he called Queen Elizabeth Jezebel—and a Dominican friar who had acted with him. Sir Nicholas Walsh the recorder had been pulled down from the market cross when he attempted to proclaim King James, and Sir Richard Aylward, who was a Protestant, had escaped with difficulty, some citizens expressing regret that they had not both lost their heads. Walsh thought he owed his preservation more to having relations among the crowd than to any dregs of loyal compunction. The Jesuit and the Dominican now came to the camp in full canonicals and with a cross borne before them, which Mountjoy at once ordered to be lowered. White fell on his knees, protesting his loyalty and acknowledging the King’s right. A discussion arose as to the lawfulness of resistance to the royal authority, and the book learning which Essex had made a reproach to Mountjoy now stood him in good stead. According to one not very probable account, the Lord Deputy had a copy of St. Augustine in his tent, and convicted White of misquoting that great authority. ‘My master,’ he said, ‘is by right of descent an absolute King, subject to no prince or power upon the earth; and if it be lawful for his subjects upon any cause to raise arms against him, and deprive him of his regal authority, he is not then an absolute King, but hath only precarium imperium. This is our opinion of the Church of England, and in this point many of your own great doctors agree with us.’ James was of course no absolute king in our sense of the word, for he had no power to impose taxes; but the long reign of Elizabeth, the wisdom which had on the whole distinguished her, and the terrible dangers from which she saved England, had taught men to look upon the sceptre as the only protection against anarchy or foreign rule. Experience of Stuart kingcraft was destined to modify public opinion.[4]

      Submission of Waterford.

White was allowed to return to Waterford, being plainly told that he would be proclaimed a traitor unless he pronounced it unlawful for subjects to resist their sovereign. The prospect of being hanged by martial law quickened his theological perceptions, and he came back after nightfall with the required declaration. Lord Power also came to make peace for the townsmen, and Mountjoy promised to intercede for them with the King. Next morning the gates were occupied, at one of which the acting mayor surrendered the keys and the civic sword. The latter was restored to the corporation, but the keys were handed to the provost-martial. Sir Richard Aylward was brought back in triumph, bearing the King’s sword before the Viceroy, who grimly remarked that he would leave a garrison of 150 men in one of the gate-towers so that the mob might not again prove too strong for the mayor. An oath of allegiance was generally taken even by the priests, but White and two other Jesuits seem to have avoided putting their names to it. Mountjoy notes with just pride that his soldiers, drawn out of the hungry north and excited by the hope of plunder, did not do one pennyworth of mischief in the city, though provisions were exorbitantly dear. The place was at their mercy all day, but the whole force, except the 150 men, evacuated it in perfect order before nightfall.[5]

      Religious differences in the Pale and elsewhere.

The Irish Catholics were at this time more or less persecuted, and toleration is so excellent a thing that the historical conscience is likely to be in favour of those who claimed it. But in the then state of Ireland it is doubtful whether the public exercise of both religions was possible. The sovereign of Wexford said his fellow townsmen would have been satisfied with the use of one church without any meddling with tithes or other property of the Establishment. But the ultramontane priests, though they might have provisionally accepted this in some large towns, aimed at complete supremacy, and they were the real popular guides. Mr. Pillsworth, the parson of Naas, when he saw the people flocking to high mass, fled to Dublin and thence to England. He may have been a timid man, but his terror was not altogether unfounded. At Navan, another clergyman named Sotherne, accompanied by several gentlemen, saw two friars in the dress of their order and began to question them in the King’s name. ‘James, King of Scotland,’ said the elder of the two in Latin, ‘is a heretic; may he perish with thee and with all who have authority under him.’ Sotherne charged him with high treason, but the constable was foiled by the mob who gathered round him. ‘Thy companions,’ said the friar, ‘are no Christians since they suffer thee among them,’ and he repeated this several times in Irish for the benefit of the bystanders. A Mr. Wafer, who said he had known the friar for twenty years, and that he was an honest man, rebuked Sotherne as a ‘busy companion,’ and pointedly observed that he would get no witnesses to support his charge of treason. As some of the crowd seemed bent on violence, Sotherne bade the constable do nothing for this time, and so returned to his lodging. He remonstrated afterwards with Wafer, who said that he ‘thought no less, but I would grow a promoter, and that was