Military operations in Munster, though contributing towards the general result of the war, did not at the moment interrupt the negotiations between Dublin and Kilkenny. As Lord President of Munster for the Parliament, Inchiquin was not bound by any truces but those of his own making, and Broghill as governor of Youghal was practically in the same position. Duncannon being taken, and the truce expiring soon after, Castlehaven invaded Munster with 5000 foot and 1000 horse. ‘The enemy,’ wrote Castlehaven long afterwards, ‘in this province had always been victorious, beating the Confederates in every encounter ... every gentleman’s house or castle was garrisoned, and kept the country in awe. To begin, therefore, this field I made my first rendezvous at Clonmel, and the army encamped not far from it. Thither came Dean Boyle, now Lord Chancellor of Ireland, and then married to my Lord Inchiquin’s sister; his business was to persuade me to spare Doneraile and other houses and castles not tenable.’ They parted friends, but Castlehaven made no promise, and marched to Cappoquin, where he summoned the castle, believing that the failure to take it before had been owing to the town being attacked first. Here and elsewhere his terms were fair quarter in case of immediate surrender, but ‘no quarter at all’ in case of prolonged resistance. Cappoquin preferred the first alternative, but the commandant was afterwards executed by court-martial for cowardice. According to Broghill and others, articles of capitulation were not always well observed, but from what we know of Castlehaven this may have been the fault of his subordinates. The possession of Cappoquin bridge enabled him to pass the Blackwater at will, and Inchiquin was too weak both in men and supplies to oppose him seriously. Youghal was summoned with the boast that mass should be said there in six days, but Broghill replied that God should be worshipped there for six months. Mitchelstown refused the first summons, but soon yielded at discretion, when ‘two or three,’ says Bellings, ‘of which one was a minister, that were charged to have been upon several actions cruel to the Irish were hanged for their unsoldierly obstinacy.’ The logic or morality of this is not very clear. Dromana surrendered, as well as Knockmone, which Sir Richard Osborne had defended since the beginning; but Lismore held out under Major Power. In the meantime a strong body of horse under Broghill had crossed the Blackwater by the ford of Fermoy, and Purcell persuaded Castlehaven to detach his own cavalry, ‘which I count certainly among my other follies.’ As Purcell came on, Broghill retired over the river and faced about at Kilcruig, half-way between the ford and Castle Lyons, with a scrubby wood between him and his pursuers. The Irish straggled through the covert, and before they had time to reform, Broghill charged and defeated them with great loss. The main body of Castlehaven’s army being visible in the distance, he retired to Castle Lyons and sent all the men he could spare to Inchiquin.[74]

From Fermoy Castlehaven proceeded to clear the country north of the Blackwater. Mallow, Doneraile, and Liscarroll were taken with little or no resistance, but Milltown, which had made a brave defence in 1641, threatened to give trouble. Some boys who made a hole in the courtyard wall to steal cattle found a way into the castle: soldiers followed, and the place was taken by assault. Annagh Castle, which was then surrounded by bog, made a brave resistance under Lieutenant Fisher. A breach was made with the artillery and the garrison was put to the sword. The English account says this was done in cold blood after Fisher had been treacherously killed during a parley in sight of his own men. Bellings acknowledges the slaughter, but says it was during an assault. While Castlehaven was busy to the north of the Blackwater Inchiquin fell upon the district of Imokilly between Cork and Youghal. Rostellan and Castle Martyr both held for his uncle Edmond Fitzgerald. In the final division of the spoils the first fell to his lot, and the second to Broghill’s, and no doubt both leaders intended something of the kind from the first. At Rostellan, says Bellings, ‘Sir Richard Meagh, the Catholic Dean of Cork, and Captain William FitzJames Barry were hanged, which actions, how justifiable soever by arms, yet made a great noise and increased the animosities between them, the clergy of both sides being therein concerned. Hearing of Inchiquin’s raid, Castlehaven hurried to the relief of Castlemartyr, but was delayed by a flood at Fermoy, and when he passed the river met the late garrison. He thought that 140 men with plenty of arms and provisions ought to have made a better fight. He found the castle burned, and having just failed to intercept part of the Youghal garrison who retreated with their guns at his approach, he seized Cloyne and Aghada and recaptured Rostellan after a short struggle. Thomas Barham, Dean of Ross, was hanged to match the other dean, and Inchiquin’s brother Henry, ‘one of the most malicious of our enemies,’ would have had the same fate, but that the officers preferred to reserve him for special judgment by the King. This was just before Naseby. Ballyhooly and Castle Lyons were also taken, and at Conna Castlehaven made an example ‘by putting to the sword some, and hanging the rest.’ He believed that the siege of Youghal would ‘rather be a work of hours than days,’ but there were plenty of men there, and the sea was open. Broghill hurried off to England for help and to place his wife and his sister, Lady Barrymore, with the young Earl, in a place of safety.[75]

Castlehaven reported that he had cleared the baronies of Imokilly and Barrymore completely both of people and cattle. ‘I conceive in this I have done my Lord of Inchiquin more mischief than in killing a thousand of his men,’ for this source of supply was quite cut off. He hoped to take Youghal and to besiege Cork before harvest, but this sanguine letter was written two days after Naseby. Lismore was taken at last after a gallant defence by Major Power, and the garrison admitted to quarter. Templemichael capitulated, Castlehaven undertaking the safe custody of the garrison to Youghal, but Broghill complains that he kept them for a fortnight and sent them in when nearly starved. The general’s proceedings at Mogeely and Strancally were also objected to, but both banks of the Blackwater from Mallow to the sea were in his hands before the end of June. Several hundreds of the King’s soldiers taken at Naseby were sent to relieve Youghal, but the curious experiment was hardly successful, for when provisions ran short they deserted. ‘I could wish,’ writes a zealous Protestant, ‘no more might be sent over. They are brutes, void of reason or understanding, or they would never hasten so much to the herd of unclean beasts.’ Some of them, however, might have taken the oath of allegiance devised for the benefit of Protestant Royalists, involving the independence of the Irish Parliament and co-operation with ‘the Confederate Catholics (saving in the freedom of religion).’ About the middle of July an Irish vessel reached Nantes with the news that Youghal had fallen, and that Castlehaven was on his way to Cork, but the wish was father to the thought. Inchiquin sent some reinforcements from Kinsale, but the Duncannon frigate with many men was blown up in Youghal harbour during an artillery duel with one of the Confederate batteries. After this Youghal was effectively blockaded on both sides of the river, but the besiegers never came to close quarters. At the beginning of October Preston came with his army, but finding that in Munster he would be only second to Castlehaven, went back in dudgeon to his own province, leaving the country, as Bellings mildly puts it, ‘much offended at the unusual liberty the soldiers assumed in his return.’ Youghal was no longer in danger, having been relieved early in September by Broghill, who brought over reinforcements from England. Inchiquin also was able to send supplies from Cork and Kinsale, and the Parliamentary Vice-Admiral Crowther commanded the sea. After Preston left him, Castlehaven attempted to take the great island in Cork harbour, which was of the highest importance to Inchiquin. The bridge at Belvelly appears not to have been then in being, and the attempt to cross the narrow channel failed, both horses and men sticking in the mud. After some indecisive skirmishing in the direction of Blarney, Castlehaven returned to Youghal, where he found his army dwindling away, and disheartened by Preston’s desertion. Those who remained were dispersed into winter quarters, and Youghal was left to itself. So far as Munster is concerned, this failure may be called the turning point of the war.[76]

While Castlehaven was in Munster the Scots threatened Connaught, where there were now virtually three provincial presidents—Lord Dillon of Costello for the King, Sir Charles Coote for the Parliament, and Archbishop Queely for the Kilkenny Confederacy. Ormonde steadfastly abstaining from denouncing the Scots as rebels, for many who had taken the Covenant were really Royalists, and those who had refused it were still worse disposed to the Parliament, whose promises of help had not been kept. The hard treatment of the King at Uxbridge and Montrose’s successes in Scotland had a great effect in Ulster, and for a moment Ormonde thought it possible to unite the English and Scots forces there under his own banner. The officers of the British forces in Ulster—excluding Monro and the new Scots—met at Antrim on May 17 and agreed to receive commissioners from the Parliament. They proposed, in spite of all the misery they had undergone, to continue the war until the conclusion of a safe and honourable peace by consent of King and Parliament, but, they significantly added, they ‘called heaven and earth to witness that it was not their fault, if they were forced to take any other way whatever for their preservation and subsistence.’ Five days before this Coote, who was in England, received a commission as President of Connaught. He hurried over to Ireland, and the presence of so resolute an officer with the necessary authority soon changed the aspect of affairs. First he entered his province at Ballinasloe and ravaged the country almost up to Galway. His next thought was to take Sligo, which was held by Teige O’Connor with a colonel’s commission from the Confederates. Four thousand foot and 500 horse assembled at Augher in Tyrone on June 17, consisting both of English and old Scots, and battering guns were sent to Sligo by sea. At the instance of Clanricarde, Ormonde gave a commission to Lord Taaffe, authorising him to raise troops and resist all who invaded Connaught in breach of the cessation, and Lord-President Dillon was directed to use his services in the last resort; but the appointment was ineffectual for the immediate purpose. Ten days later cannon were brought to bear upon Sligo Castle, and O’Connor surrendered. The town was defended a little longer, but was carried by assault with great slaughter. The Irish accounts say that men, women, and children were killed after quarter had been promised, ‘so as never a man escaped but two men and two women’; but these charges were generally made by both sides during the war, and it is not always possible to test them. The Sligo district was now at the mercy of Sir Frederick Hamilton and his allies, but recruits flocked to Taaffe’s standard in considerable numbers, and he turned his attention to Roscommon. Tulsk was taken by storm, and Major Robert Ormsby, a redoubtable partisan of the Parliament, was taken prisoner. Carrigdrumrusk and Boyle also fell, and then Lord Taaffe was recalled to Dublin. The chief authority in Connaught was for a short time in Archbishop Queely’s hands, but Major Luke Taaffe appears to have commanded the force which attempted to recover Sligo in October. A priest is out of place at the head of any army, and probably some of the evils attending a divided command were felt. At all events a very bad look-out was kept. On October 17 a cavalry detachment from Sir Robert Stewart’s army, under Lord Coloony and another Coote, fell upon the Irish and put them to flight. Sir Frederick Hamilton came up in time to take part in the pursuit, and there was great slaughter. Archbishop Queely was killed, and upon him was found the copy of the Glamorgan treaty which played so important a part.[77]

Giovanni Battista Rinuccini was of a good old Florentine family, and had been carefully educated. He was in his fifty-third year, and had been Bishop of Fermo since 1625. In 1631 he refused the archbishopric of Florence, telling the Grand Duke Ferdinand II. that he was too much attached to his flock to leave them. When the Irish Confederacy begged for a regular nuncio, Luigi Omodei, afterwards a cardinal, was first chosen, but passed over as a Spanish subject, whose appointment might be disagreeable to France. This was the reason given, and it seems sufficient, but according to Bellings Rinuccini was preferred to please Ferdinand, and that the revenues of Fermo might be applied for a time in liquidation of the bishop’s debts. He was given almost unlimited ecclesiastical authority and patronage in Ireland, with power to visit all monasteries and nunneries, even exempt jurisdictions, and to settle disputes between the various orders. He was directed to be chiefly guided by the advice of archbishop Queely and Bishop Emer Macmahon, and he was to establish the Tridentine decrees firmly. With regard to church lands in lay hands, he was to use his own discretion, treating each case on its merits, and giving grants or leases as he thought best, but always with the proviso that a sufficient part of the profits should be retained for the support of the clergy. About ecclesiastical matters in Ireland the Roman court was very well informed, Luke Wadding being at hand to answer every question. But political affairs were less well understood. Rinuccini was told, for instance, that the Parliament had ‘bound themselves by a sacrilegious oath to maintain and defend what they called the true reformed Protestant religion against all Popish inventions and innovations, and determined to extinguish every spark of the Catholic religion, by extirpating all who adhered to that faith, not only in England and Scotland, but even in Ireland. This dreadful sentence came to the knowledge of the Irish at a time when four thousand men were in arms, who had been levied for the service of the King of Spain, but were then detained in Ireland by order of the Parliament.’ The detention of the troops was indeed one great cause of the outbreak in 1641, but the men had been levied originally not for any foreign prince, but to enable Charles and Strafford to crush the English Parliament and their Scots allies. Parliament was undoubtedly ready to oppress the Roman Catholics, but there is no evidence of any intention to extirpate them. The friars persuaded the people that this had been determined on, and the argument was too convenient to be neglected. The main object of Rinuccini’s mission was to ‘restore and re-establish the public exercise of the Catholic religion in the island of Ireland, and further to lead her people, if not as tributaries to the Holy See, such as they were five centuries ago, to subject themselves to the mild yoke of the Pontiff, at least in all spiritual affairs—thus to gain over souls innumerable to the glories of Paradise.’[78]

The nuncio was informed that the cessation and its various renewals had done no good, and that peace was unlikely because Ormonde would ‘never yield save by force to the wishes of the Catholics.’ The Lord Lieutenant’s Protestantism was sincere, but in Rinuccini’s secret instruction a lingering hope is expressed that he might be gained over, perhaps through the Queen or ‘any particular predilection of which advantage might be taken.’ He had one predilection, the supremacy of the Crown in Church and State. The same secret instructions declared that Henrietta Maria must be kept out of Ireland, because Royalist heretics would flock round her and make the Irish suspicious, and because queens are expensive people to maintain. The Pope would give no help to the faithful in England except on condition that all disabilities affecting them should be taken away, the oath of supremacy abolished, and no peace made until these concessions were confirmed by Parliament. ‘To secure these conditions all the fortresses in Ireland must be put into the hands of English and Irish Catholics, because without some such pledge, their Majesties’ promises can not be depended on.’ No Irish army was to be landed in England if of less force than 10,000 men, ‘who may be able to defend themselves without danger of being cut to pieces by the English who serve under the King ... the Irish Catholics are so hated by the English Protestants that they would be in constant danger of treachery, if marching with cavalry, commanded by Protestant officers,’ and therefore the provision of a body of English Catholic cavalry proportionate to the Irish infantry was a condition precedent to the latter serving in England, and there is much more of the same kind. Had Charles known what ideas prevailed at Rome there would have been no Glamorgan treaty, no royal letters to the Pope or nuncio, and very probably no battle of Naseby.[79]

Rinuccini travelled by Florence and Genoa, where the Doge’s attentions much delighted him, to Marseilles, and thence by Lyons, where the cardinal archbishop was barely civil, and he reached Paris at the end of the third week in May. He had strict orders not to linger long in the French capital, ‘lest the ill-affected should warn the Parliament of the enterprise.’ They were not likely to be ignorant, for the English merchants at Leghorn had plotted to intercept him at sea between Genoa and Cannes. He carried with him the golden rose, which was a dead secret, and he was ordered not to deliver it to Anne of Austria unless he was sure that it would be well received. There was some ill-feeling on account of the Pope’s late refusal to make Mazarin’s brother a cardinal, and this was increased by the mistake of a secretary who infringed diplomatic usage by neglecting to inform the nuncio at Paris of Rinuccini’s mission. The refusal to give up Beaupuis, who was implicated in the conspiracy of the Importants, and had been arrested at Rome at the French queen’s instance, made matters worse, and Rinuccini soon determined not to offer the rose, which would probably be refused under the circumstances. The Irish flocked to the nuncio with requests and advice, but the French were not enthusiastic. The Duke of Orleans, indeed, and the Prince of Condé, were friendly, the latter expressing the most extravagant devotion to the Holy See, but Mazarin was merely smooth and cautious. Jealousy of Spain was much more apparent in Court circles than sympathy with Ireland, but the devout Duke of Ventadour promoted a subscription of 100,000 crowns. After the news of Naseby the French became cooler than ever, but Henrietta Maria begged Rinuccini to bring about peace between the Irish, saying that she was empowered to do this by her husband. The persons trusted by her in the matter were the Jesuit O’Hartegan, whom Charles considered a knave; Bellings, who had reached Paris soon after the nuncio; and the inevitable Jermyn. Scarampi in the meantime was writing from Ireland that ‘the peace, if concluded, would be fatal.’ Rinuccini’s long stay in France was so far favourable to Scarampi’s views that the Confederates were unwilling to conclude anything until he arrived, and in the meantime the King’s necessities grew more pressing. ‘I have observed,’ says the nuncio, ‘that many in France are anxious to assist the King of England, but would rather it should be by the help of others, and consequently they would greatly like he should be aided by the Irish. Mazarin, who made some difficulty about an audience, gave vague promises, but was very cautious. Henrietta Maria offered to see Rinuccini privately, but he declined anything short of an official reception. It is perhaps true that she tried to prevent him from going to Ireland, for Scarampi showed from her letters that she was ‘always ready to treat of peace without one word concerning religion,’ and indeed it was quite impossible for her to act so as to alienate Protestant Royalists. It was equally impossible for her to please all parties.[80]

Bellings, who is a very hostile witness, says Rinuccini disliked the idea of Ireland, and tried to get himself appointed nuncio to France instead of Monsignor dei Bagni, and Mazarin seems to have been of the same opinion. However that may be, it is certain that he lingered for more than three months in Paris, and that he was severely reprimanded by the Pope for doing so without showing a sufficient reason to vary his original instructions on that point. At the date of that reproof he had got as far as Tours on his way to the coast. He succeeded in wringing 25,000 crowns from Mazarin, and persuaded Bellings to go to Flanders in the hope of preventing him from getting first to Ireland. O’Hartegan had letters in his possession which showed that Charles was trying to use the Irish for his own purposes, and had taken care that they should be known in Ireland, his object being to prevent any peace without extraordinary securities. Rinuccini sailed at last from the island of Rhé, more than six months after leaving Florence, accompanied by Bellings and about twenty Italians, of whom the most remarkable was Massari, Dean of Fermo. A nephew of the great Spinola, who soon died at Kilkenny, was sent before to explain or excuse the delay. There had been much difficulty about shipping, but the frigate San Pietro was obtained with Mazarin’s money. The cardinal said the French flag would protect all on board, but this turned out not to be the case. Rinuccini carried with him a considerable sum in specie and a large quantity of arms purchased in France, a consignment of swords, pistols, and muskets with 20,000 pounds of powder having preceded him to Ireland. The total amount received from Rome and from Mazarin was about 200,000 dollars, and of this nearly one-half had been laid out in arms and other warlike material. At sea the nuncio was chased first by an English squadron and afterwards by Plunket, a notorious rover or pirate, who, having become ‘a Puritan,’ was trusted by the English Parliament. Superior speed averted the first danger, but Plunket would have succeeded had not a fire broken out in his galley. ‘The frigate,’ says Rinuccini, ‘was dedicated to St. Peter, whose gilded image was placed at the poop ... and truly I see the hand of the Saint in the miraculous issue of this pursuit.’ In spite of this it was thought too dangerous to approach Waterford, and after six days at sea the San Pietro at last found shelter in Kenmare bay. The nuncio’s first letters are dated from Ardtully, about four miles to the eastward of Kenmare. ‘And here,’ he writes, ‘I may give your Eminence another proof of the Divine providence towards me in having discovered and touched land on October 21 and 22, which seem to be consecrated to an archbishop of Fermo, as on the 21st my Church celebrates the feast of Saint Mabel, one of the 11,000 virgins, whose head we have at Fermo, and whom we believe on no slight grounds to have been of Irish birth; while on the 22nd we also celebrate the martyrdom of St. Philip, Bishop of Fermo.... My first lodging was in a shepherd’s hut, in which animals also took shelter.’ The arms were temporarily stored in Ardtully Castle, and to avoid Inchiquin, Rinuccini proceeded by Macroom and Millstreet through the mountains to Limerick. The ruggedness of the roads and the steepness of the passes were, he says, indescribable, but the faithful flocked to meet him, and Ormonde’s brother Richard, specially sent by the Supreme Council, was among those who escorted him. At Limerick he found Scarampi, who had succeeded in making the hitherto neutral city declare itself, and heard of Archbishop Queely’s death. He reached Kilkenny on November 12, and was received with much pomp, which he evidently enjoyed. The Supreme Council held a special sitting in the Castle, and the nuncio had a chair covered with ‘red damask enriched with gold and handsomer than the president’s,’ but Mountgarret did not leave his place either at the beginning or end of the ceremony. The arrangements were made by Bellings, who would be sure to preserve the dignity of the civil power.’[81]

CHAPTER XXVII

THE ORMONDE PEACE, 1646

While at Rochelle waiting for his ship, Rinuccini had seen Geoffrey Baron, treasurer of the Confederation, who told him that no peace had yet been made in Ireland, and who brought a letter from Glamorgan. Baron, ‘a cavalier of excellent countenance and very affable manner,’ was on his way to Paris to succeed O’Hartegan, who seems to have returned to Ireland a little later. Glamorgan returned from Dublin to Kilkenny one week after the nuncio’s arrival, and in due course delivered the King’s letter to him. Of that to the Pope he only showed the address, but he disclosed the contents of two ‘patents in which the King gives him secret but full powers to conclude a peace with the Irish, on whatever terms he thinks advisable.’ In the meantime Lord Digby, who bore the now empty title of principal secretary of state, had arrived in Dublin. It was characteristic of Charles’s diplomacy that his English minister was even more ignorant of Glamorgan’s business than his Irish viceroy. Glamorgan was sanguine that the nuncio would agree to everything required; but Ormonde calls him ‘the Italian bishop,’ and an ‘unbidden guest,’ which he would not have done had he known of the King’s letter to him. Rinuccini found that the majority of the Confederates were inclined to accept Ormonde’s political articles, and to leave the religious question for later consideration. Noblemen and lawyers saw plainly enough that the King could not grant what would satisfy the Pope without making his position in England hopeless, and they wished to save their properties with the hope of later concessions in church matters. The certain ruin of the royal cause was the worst thing that could happen, for from the Parliament nothing but evil was to be expected. Some, says Rinuccini, ‘audaciously declare that the Catholic interest could not fail to prosper under the government of a nobleman so warmly attached to the cause of Ireland as the Marquis of Ormonde; others are not ashamed to say that it is sufficient to perform the Catholic service in secret, provided it can be done in safety, and that to expect more than this from the King, restricted as he is at the present moment in his liberty, would be open injustice; and finally, that it is not lawful to contend with him in this cause. No one holds forth more loudly in favour of this doctrine than that priest Leyburn sent here six months ago by the Queen, and whose words almost amount to sedition.’ Leyburn’s mission was known and feared at Rome, where it was well understood that Henrietta Maria was willing to make peace ‘without one word concerning religion,’ and considered ‘the whole well-being of the Catholics to depend on peace with the Protestants.’ A still greater obstacle to peace on Rinuccini’s terms was the personal popularity of Ormonde, and the fact that the Council ‘were mostly relations, friends, clients, or dependants of his house.’[82]

A copy of the Glamorgan treaty came into Ormonde’s hands, and was shown to Digby, who was in Dublin before the end of November. Glamorgan himself reached the Irish capital on Christmas Eve, and on St. Stephen’s Day he was arrested at Digby’s instance, and closely confined to the Castle, ‘yet with needful attendance and accommodation,’ and not as Rinuccini heard, ‘without even a servant left to attend him.’ The prisoner being brought before the Council, Digby produced copies of the treaty, of the ‘pretended authority’ of March 12, 1644-5, and of the oath taken by Glamorgan. The King complained at this time that Ormonde had been long without writing, the fact probably being that he knew just enough to make him cautious and not enough to enable him to advise. The fatal papers were read to the Irish Council, Digby declaring that the commission was either forged or obtained by fraud, or at the very least limited by other instructions. It was ‘destructive both to his regality and religion,’ and such as the King would never grant to save his Crown or life, or the lives of his wife and children. Next day Glamorgan was examined on interrogatories, framed so as to shield Charles while accumulating blame upon his agent. It was not sought to prove that he had forged the King’s commissions of January 12 and March 12, for probably both Ormonde and Digby knew in their hearts that they were genuine, though they had not seen them before the conclusion of the treaty. The fourth interrogatory was as follows: ‘Did your lordship grant, conclude, and agree, on the behalf of his Majesty, his heirs and successors ... that the Roman Catholic clergy of Ireland should and might from thenceforth for ever hold and enjoy all and every such lands, tenements, tithes, and hereditaments whatsoever by them respectively enjoyed within this kingdom, or by them possessed at any time since October 23, 1641, and all other such lands, tenements, tithes, and hereditaments belonging to the clergy within this kingdom, other than such as are now actually enjoyed by his Majesty’s Protestant clergy?’ In reply Glamorgan acknowledged the words of the treaty, while considering them ‘not obligatory to his Majesty.’ He was afterwards allowed to add the words ‘and yet without any just blemish of my honour, my honesty, or my conscience.’ At the end of four days Glamorgan was released from close imprisonment, but confined to the walls of the Castle for more than three weeks longer. In reporting to the King the Lord Lieutenant and Council confess that they were ‘stricken with most wonderful horror and astonishment to find so sacred a majesty so highly scandalled and dishonoured.’ And, said Ormonde for himself, ‘it is manifest that the retarding of the peace is no way on the part of me the Lieutenant, but ought rather to be attributed to that underhand dealing of the said Earl, whereby that party have been encouraged to hope for such concessions as they themselves had before receded from, as wanting confidence to insist on matters so unreasonable.’ It was pointed out that Glamorgan had mis-recited the commission authorising Ormonde to treat for peace, that he had acknowledged Mountgarret’s ‘usurped style and title’ as Lord President of the Supreme Council, and that ‘he had strangely misinterpreted the facts of the case when he discerned the alacrity and cheerfulness of the said Catholics to embrace honourable conditions of peace.’ They had shown their loyalty by ‘entertaining a nuncio from the Pope,’ and at the same time negotiating with a messenger from the King of Spain, ‘and how comely it is that such treaty with foreigners should be held at the same time that they are in treaty with his Majesty’s commissioners we humbly submit to his Majesty’s high wisdom.’[83]

As soon as Charles heard of the proceedings in Dublin, he proceeded characteristically to repudiate Glamorgan, to whom, he said, he had given a commission to raise and employ troops, ‘and to that purpose only.’ All his other doings were without warrant, and ‘framed of his own head.’ For himself the King was quite ready to go to London and to confer with the two Houses on the basis of making no peace in Ireland without their consent. Failing such a conference, Ormonde was to make a treaty which would preserve the Irish Protestants and the Crown, without being derogatory to the King’s honour and public professions. With chivalrous loyalty, which cannot be too much commended, Glamorgan kept silence under this undeserved rebuke. He had already shown Ormonde the original and given him an attested copy of a document which was probably the patent of April 1, 1644, strictly charging him to keep it secret. It might be useful to the Lord Lieutenant for his ‘future warrantry to his Majesty,’ but publication would not be for the King’s service. Ormonde sent a copy of this paper to the King, describing it as ‘of an extraordinary nature and way of penning,’ but expressing no doubts of its genuineness. The Supreme Council at Kilkenny said negotiations could not go on nor Chester be relieved until ‘a nobleman, so highly esteemed by the nation, and chosen general of that army by the unanimous vote of the Confederate Catholics, were released.’ To Ormonde Charles averred ‘on the word of a Christian’ that he never intended Glamorgan to do anything without his approbation. A prosecution of the Earl was necessary to clear his Majesty’s honour, but he had been actuated by mistaken zeal. The King was quite satisfied with the Lord Lieutenant, and begged him not to sentence Glamorgan, unless he found it too dangerous not to do so. Glamorgan was liberated after nearly a month’s detention, but bound to appear within thirty days after summons, bail being given for 40,000l., half on his own part and half on that of the Earls of Clanricarde and Kildare. Both the sureties had houses in Dame Street, where service was declared good. Glamorgan went back to Kilkenny, entering the town late ‘to avoid the vanity’ of popular demonstrations in his favour, and Rinuccini was rather sorry to see him, because his return removed one obstacle to the conclusion of peace. The interest of Rome was to continue the war, and the nuncio pleaded hard for delay, at least until the articles came to which the Pope had agreed.[84]

In the spring of 1645 Henrietta Maria sent Sir Kenelm Digby to Rome. The choice of this fantastic genius was not a happy one, and the cool-headed Italians soon found that he was not a serious diplomatist. He could show no authority from the King, and that derived from an exiled Queen, who was hated in England and not much loved in Ireland, hardly afforded security enough. He received an order for 20,000 Roman crowns to be laid out in munitions of war, and carried with him articles to which he undertook to get the royal consent. He left Rome in December for Paris, where he was to see the Queen. After that he proposed to visit the King in England and the nuncio in Ireland. He was at Nantes at the end of January and on the point of sailing for Ireland, but returned to Paris instead, whence he made his way back to Rome a few months later. ‘Let him say what he will,’ wrote Bonaventure Barron to Wadding, ‘this is certainly true that excepting going to mass, the Queen has no other religion than the Lord Jermyn’s, and that both are all agreeing in this, that while there is any hope of relieving the King by a Protestant, a Catholic shall never be admitted to his succour, and while they think the Scots can do it, the Irish shall never be admitted to a communication in the work, much less to any good conditions for our nation, which is equally hated by the King, Parliament, Scots, Queen, and Jermyn.’ This was written in May, after Charles had left Oxford on that sad journey which ended in the Scotch camp, but the learned Franciscan was well informed, and had perhaps seen some of the letters received by the Queen. In January the King had told his wife that Ireland ‘must at all times be sacrificed to save the crown of England, Montreuil assuring me that France, rather than fail, will assist me in satisfying the Scots’ arrears.’ His later letters to her are in the same spirit, and with some reason from his own point of view, he declares the Irish wanting in generosity. Colepepper about the same time pronounced Ireland to be a broken reed, and the same simile was applied at Rome to the heretics upon whom King and Queen alike were disposed to lean.[85]

A copy of the articles agreed to with Digby was sent to Rinuccini early in November 1645, and reached him in due course. This paper was unsigned, and differed in some respects from the formally authenticated version entrusted to Sir Kenelm himself, but the main points were the same. Seven articles applied to Ireland, and by them the King was required to grant the free and public exercise of the Roman Catholic religion, and to restore the hierarchy, with all churches and church property. The abbey lands ‘pretended’ to have been confirmed to lay grantees by Cardinal Pole were to be left to a free Parliament, and so were the bishoprics in the King’s hands. All penal laws passed since ‘the defection of Henry VIII.’ were to be first abrogated by the King and then repealed by a free Irish Parliament, ‘independent of that of England.’ The viceroy and all the chief placeholders were to be Catholics, and all towns, including Dublin, to be placed in Catholic hands, and the King was to join his forces with those of the Confederate Catholics so as to drive the Scots and the Parliamentarians out of Ireland. When the King had done these things, ‘and whatever else Monsignor Rinuccini may add to or alter in these articles,’ the Pope would give the Queen 100,000 Roman crowns. In England all penal laws were to be repealed and all disabilities removed, and the kingdom was to be invaded by 12,000 infantry under Irish chiefs, who were to be assisted by at least 2,500 English cavalry with Catholic officers. As soon as a landing and junction had been effected the Pope was to pay his money in twelve monthly instalments, a like sum to be paid in the second and third year if circumstances justified it. By an article added afterwards six months were given for the ratification of the Irish articles, and ten for the English, ‘after which his Holiness will not be bound by his present promise.’ Rinuccini received this document in February while the General Assembly was sitting at Kilkenny. Glamorgan, not without some wry faces and much to the disgust of his friends, at once agreed to abandon his own treaty and to adopt Sir Kenelm Digby’s. It was an excuse for delay that the original had not yet come to hand, and that was the nuncio’s main object. Glamorgan was reminded that he had exceeded his instructions, that he had talked at Dublin about what he had orders to keep secret, that he had spoken of using an Irish army to force the King’s hand, and in short that he could only cast off his load of responsibility by submitting to the Pope. It was evident that he could do nothing by himself, and that his promises had melted into air, ‘Lord Digby having declared that the Protestants would rather throw the King out of window than permit his Majesty to confirm them.’ Speaking in the assembly Rinuccini said that Glamorgan’s treaty was worthless because its confirmation depended on the will of another, and that the Roman treaty was every way preferable. Both were really waste paper, and everyone at Kilkenny knew it except the clergy and the clericals. Ormonde reminded Glamorgan that the chief object of the peace was to relieve Chester, and that could not be done unless troops were sent at once. To this the poor man answered that the Queen’s powerful hand effaced the ‘clandestine hopes’ of his own endeavours. A burnt child, he said, dreads the fire, and he would most willingly leave treaty-making to the Lord Lieutenant, who could not as ‘a great and public minister of State and real Protestant’ appear publicly, but who might give a hint to his friends at Kilkenny to deal with the nuncio. For himself he proposed to raise 100,000l. in Catholic countries, which was impossible if the Pope were ‘irritated,’ or the nuncio ‘disgusted.’ Rinuccini, he added, had agreed to let 3000 men go at once for the relief of Chester, and he believed shipping could be readily had. When this was written Chester had fallen, and a rumour had reached Ormonde when he penned an answer in his best manner. ‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘my affections and interests are so tied to his Majesty’s cause that it were madness in me to disgust any man that hath power and inclination to relieve him, in the sad condition he is in, and therefore your Lordship may securely go on in the ways you have proposed to yourself to serve the King without fear of interruption from me, or so much as inquiring into the means you work by.’ For himself he had a commission to treat with the Confederates, and he intended to do so without venturing ‘upon any new negotiation foreign to the powers he had received.’ In the meantime the proposed succours were likely to be too late.[86]