While Ormonde was making his arrangements with Annesley and Jones, Preston was at Monasterevan collecting an army with which he hoped to neutralise the Parliamentarians in Dublin. Digby still struggled to make this force available for the King’s service, and his secretary Walsingham wrote from Monasterevan that he had been cherished and received as an angel of peace. When mustered a few days later on the Curragh of Kildare, Preston’s army amounted to 7000 foot and 1200 horse, well officered and well appointed. Leyburn says the foot were ‘as lusty appearing men, and as well accoutred with arms and clothes as ever I did see,’ and the horse up to the average. Jones, with a much inferior force, advanced to Naas, while Preston encamped on the left bank of the Liffey not far off. Jones drew back to Johnstown, and then detached some cavalry to go round by the south of Naas and intercept some of Preston’s men. Leyburn had warned the latter of the danger he incurred from the superiority of the English horse, but there was a moment when they might have been annihilated between Naas and Johnstown, and Bellings himself remonstrated with the sluggish general, but it was then too late, and Jones was allowed to rally all his men in safety on a hill near Kill, whence they reached Dublin without further fighting. Preston’s next encampment was at the Boyne close to Trim. Walsingham came there by appointment, but found that the political wind had changed, and that the general had changed with it as usual. The presence of Bishop French was probably fatal to any negotiation, and the unfortunate private secretary returned to Dublin. Trim was held by an English garrison, and Preston wished to take, while Jones was anxious to relieve it. Hearing that the Ulster Protestants had come as far as Dundalk on their way to join Jones, but that they would be obliged to retire in ten days for want of provisions, Preston withdrew to an unassailable position at Portlester, where he intended to remain until the invasion was passed. But Bishop French and Sir Nicholas Plunket advised him to take active measures lest his own supplies should run short. Jones, who in Bellings’s words ‘fought but for bread and elbow-room about Dublin,’ could not have kept the field long, and Preston, by taking the advice of a priest and a lawyer on a military question, lost the advantage of dividing his enemy’s forces and perhaps beating them in detail. Sir Henry Tichborne and others came to Skreen with nearly 2000 men and two guns, and the united forces marched through Trim. Jones mustered his army at the famous hill of Tara, and found himself almost equal in strength to Preston, and rather superior in horse, of which he despatched 500 under Major Harman to reconnoitre at Portlester, but they lost their way. Preston left his almost impregnable position and marched to Agher, south of Trim, where he again took up strong ground. But news came from Leixlip that there were only 500 soldiers in Dublin, and the Irish general, as rash as he was generally supine, decided to make a dash for the capital through Maynooth, which had already ‘by especial Providence’ voluntarily surrendered to Jones. Preston left Agher on August 8, Harman with his troopers hanging upon his skirts, and causing as much delay as possible.[111]

The wheel of a waggon which came off at a ford delayed Preston’s march, and the bulk of the enemy’s cavalry gradually drew up to Harman’s support, while their whole army was visible in the distance. Jones was upon Lynch’s Knock or Summerhill, and Preston upon Dungan Hill, after which the battle is generally named. It was evident that Maynooth would never be reached without fighting, and Preston prepared for battle in what he thought was a good position. Without any preliminary cannonade the Parliamentary army advanced across the interval between the two hills. The Irish horse were routed at the first charge, having been posted in a narrow lane with high quickset hedges and without power of forming line to the front. Perhaps the real cause of their misfortune was that they were commanded by Lord Costello instead of by their well-tried leader MacThomas Fitzgerald. Costello knew nothing of war, but he was a recent convert, and that seems to have been thought sufficient. A large part of the infantry stood in some very tall wheat, where they were useless. Battalions were separated from each other by high banks, and no manœuvring was possible. The best fight was made by four hundred Scotch Islanders under a Glengarry, but most of them were killed. The bulk of the infantry took refuge in a bog, where they were first surrounded, and then ‘our foot,’ says Jones, ‘followed into the bog, where they put to the sword all not admitted to quarter; such of the rebels as left the bog fell into the power of our horse.’ There is the usual dispute as to whether men were slain after quarter given or not. Bellings says ‘most of the officers and some soldiers repaired to the red colours, and to preserve them Colonel Flower commanded his regiment to stand to their arms in a body; and having brought them to Colonel Jones, they had quarter.’ Jones’s own account tallies pretty well with this, for he says ninety-five commissioned officers were taken prisoners, and only about 300 non-commissioned officers and men. Five thousand four hundred and seventy bodies were counted on the field, and many stragglers were afterwards killed by the troopers. No mercy was shown to any English, nor to such of the Anglo-Irish as had changed sides. Jones thought scarcely 500 of the infantry escaped. The English lost three officers, of whom one, Captain Gibbs, really died of drinking ditch-water when heated. The total number killed was under twenty. Four twelve-pounders with sixty-four draught oxen, and what was even more important, Preston’s papers fell into the victor’s hands. All the colours were taken, which Jones ‘could not be persuaded to be brought into Dublin in triumph, as savouring (said he) of ostentation, and attributing unto men the glory of this great work due to the Lord only,’ but there was a public thanksgiving in all the city churches.[112]

The House of Commons voted 1000l. each to Jones and to Fenwick, who commanded at Trim, 500l. to Colonel Conway, 200l., to Tichborne, who commanded the rear guard, and 100l. to Colonel Culme, who brought the letter. They also talked about sending provisions, but these were long delayed. One thousand five hundred pounds borrowed on personal security was looked upon as a god-send. Preston retired to Carlow, giving up Naas and other places in Kildare, and busied himself in collecting another army. In the meantime Inchiquin had become formidable in Munster. Early in May 1647 he took Cappoquin, where there was no powder to fire a shot, and Dromana, where the garrison only fired four or five. Inchiquin had studied these places, and in 1642 had pointed out how easy it would be to take Dromana and how troublesome to take Dungarvan. The latter did in fact make a stout resistance, but Inchiquin made himself master of the water-supply, which soon settled the matter. All the garrisons were allowed to march out with military honours, ‘but some twenty Englishmen of the red-coats that had run to the rebels were hanged.’ Three thousand cows and two thousand sheep were cut out from under the walls of Waterford. Dungarvan, being a seaport, completed Inchiquin’s chain of posts from Kinsale to the mouth of the Suir, and its loss was much felt by the Confederates. The victor has a bad name, but many grumbled at his comparative lenity. Rinuccini attributed these disasters to general dissension among high and low, and to the non-payment of the soldiers. About midsummer Inchiquin invaded the county Limerick, and destroyed many castles, forced the passage of the Mulkear at or near Barrington’s Bridge, and plundered the country up to the Shannon. A party crossed where O’Brien’s Bridge had once stood, and the terrified Irish of Clare burned Bunratty, which had been so troublesome to take. Inchiquin then returned to Cork to rest his troops, who were ‘generally barefooted and extreme naked,’ but scarcely hungry after driving homewards 8000 cows and 5000 sheep. In the meantime Colonel Byron, starting from the new base at Dungarvan and Cappoquin, took Castle Grace in Tipperary, ‘put the rogues to the sword,’ entered Limerick and stormed Adare ‘where four friars were burned and three took prisoners.’ Byron’s party also drove off between two and three thousand cattle. Seven thousand pounds were voted to Inchiquin by Parliament about the same time, and Preston’s defeat at Dungan Hill greatly increased his relative strength.[113]

In January 1646 the House of Commons resolved that the Government of Ireland should be vested in a single person of honour, and that there should be a fresh appointment every year. In April Philip Lord Lisle, who as Leicester’s son might be supposed to have some claim, was made Lord Lieutenant accordingly, with power to appoint officers for two regiments of foot and one of horse, and with the command of all troops raised and to be raised for the reduction of Ireland. The Parliament exercised the power of naming a chief governor, and perhaps that was the real object, for no attempt was made to provide him with the means of doing anything. Lisle lingered in England for a year, and arrived at Cork on March 9, 1647, George Monck being one of those who accompanied him. Sir Adam Loftus and Sir John Temple were sent as commissioners for the civil government of Munster, but Lisle’s appointment expired on April 15, and Inchiquin dissembled until then. Lisle lost no time in reporting that he was equally ready to return to England or to remain in Ireland if his commission were prolonged, but that he could do nothing to reduce the rebels without further supplies. Then Inchiquin, who had been expecting to be arrested, exhibited his own patent as Lord President under the Great Seal, declared Lisle a private person, and hinted at putting him under restraint if he interfered any further with the troops. Most of the officers sided with him in spite of all the efforts of Broghill, Loftus, and Temple. Lisle, finding himself powerless, proposed to sail with his baggage on Vice-Admiral Crowther’s ship, but here again he was foiled. Crowther said he would do nothing without the Lord President’s orders, which were not given until Lisle’s trunks had been searched, and in the end the late Lord Lieutenant was glad to get out of Ireland with his property and ten officers who refused to serve under Inchiquin. Among them was Monck, who soon returned to command all forces, both English and Scotch, in Ulster, except those in charge of Sir Charles Coote. Broghill, Loftus and Temple went with Lisle, Parliament having in the meantime decided not to send a chief governor. The whole authority in Munster, both civil and military, remained in Inchiquin’s hands.[114]

When Ormonde left Ireland, Lord Taaffe, who had been and was to be his adherent, took the oath to the Confederacy. Muskerry, having got rid of Glamorgan, thought he could counteract Rinuccini most effectually by attending the Council regularly; and he handed over the command in Munster to Taaffe. The new general, who was perhaps not very sure of his troops, invaded the county of Cork, but avoided an encounter with Inchiquin, who disregarded him and made a dash into Tipperary, which had hitherto suffered little by the war, and where there were cows to be lifted and towns to be sacked. He reported the capture of twelve castles, of which Cahir was the most important. There were a hundred men in this strong place, which might have defied him if it had been bravely defended. One of his soldiers was wounded and taken in a plundering affray, and Colonel Hippesley, who had some skill in surgery, obtained access to him in the guise of a doctor. He used his opportunity to notice that there was a weak point in the courtyard wall, and that a timorous spirit prevailed among the garrison. The outer wall was carried by storm, and the castle surrendered on condition that the soldiers’ lives should be spared. The moral effect of this success was great, for it was supposed then, and it has often been said since, that Cahir held out for two months against Essex. It is true that that ill-starred favourite wasted several weeks in Munster, but his siege of Cahir lasted only three days. On September 4 Inchiquin came before Cashel, where there was a garrison of four hundred men. A panic was caused by the fate of Cahir, and the soldiers with a large part of the inhabitants took refuge on the famous rock, which was well supplied with water and surrounded by strong walls. Others wisely distrusted the acropolis, and hid themselves in the woods and fields. Inchiquin offered to let the garrison march out with the honours of war, without any conditions for the clergy and citizens; but the officers bravely refused. The assailants had no cannon, but trusted to fire within the walls. One account says Inchiquin piled turf against the defences; another, that firebrands were thrown over the battlements. The fine September weather did the rest. The assailants swarmed in over the north wall, and a terrible carnage ensued. About a thousand of the besieged perished, some women being killed and others stripped. ‘Three of the secular clergy, the prior of the Dominicans, and one of our society (the Jesuits) fell in the performance of their sacred duties.’ A bishop who was present managed to hide himself, as did the mayor and some others; but no respect was paid to the church or even to the altar. According to the account most favourable to Inchiquin, he tried to stop the slaughter as soon as he reached the cathedral, but is said to have donned the archiepiscopal mitre, boasting that he was governor of Munster and archbishop of Cashel too. Ludlow says he ‘put 3000 to the sword, taking the priests even from under the altar: of such force is ambition when it seizes upon the minds of men.’ The soldiers sold the plunder, including the sacred vessels, to the people who flocked in from the neighbouring villages ‘as if to a fair.’ Pictures of saints were used as horse-cloths, and insults were offered to statues of the Virgin.[115]

Money was expected from Rome at the beginning of the year, but did not come for twelve months, during which Rinuccini’s influence waned; and to this delay he attributed the expulsion of Glamorgan, the action of Muskerry, and the defeat of Preston. Six thousand crowns would have prevented it all. With eight thousand more O’Neill could have retaken Sligo, subdued Connaught, and ‘marched into Ulster to reduce the fort of Enniskillen, and to take possession of the Holy Place of St. Patrick’s Purgatory, now about one hundred years in the hands of the heretics.’ Having seen Ormonde safe out of Ireland, the nuncio himself withdrew to Galway, where his presence would still have some of the charm of novelty and where he might expect less resistance than at Kilkenny or Clonmel. But Clanricarde carefully avoided paying him any attention, and he was confronted with a new difficulty immediately after his arrival. A Jesuit named Cornelius Mahony, a native of Cork but living at Lisbon, published in 1645 what he called an ‘apologetic disputation,’ with an exhortation to his countrymen. He proves to his own satisfaction that the English Crown had no claims upon Ireland, having broken the conditions of Adrian’s bull, and urges the Irish to ‘elect a Catholic king, a vernacular or natural Irishman.’ ‘You have already,’ he says, ‘killed 150,000 enemies in these four or five years, as your very adversaries’ howling openly confess in their writings, and you do not deny. I think more heretic enemies have been killed: would that they had all been! It remains for you to slay all the other heretics, or expel them from the bounds of Ireland, lest they infect our Catholic country with their heresies and errors.’ A copy of this incendiary production reached Ireland from France, and others followed from Portugal. At Kilkenny the book was publicly burned, and close search was made at Galway. Rinuccini expressed no disapproval of its doctrines, and refused to punish John Bane, parish priest of Athlone, with whom a copy was found. He attributed the outcry against it to those who were in possession of ecclesiastical lands, and to those who hated O’Neill, the only possible ‘natural and vernacular’ hero who could be chosen king. The Portuguese kingdom had only lately been re-established, and Mahony argued that the Irish had just the same right to upset a heretic dynasty as the Portuguese had to drive out their Castilian oppressors. Nevertheless, King John condemned the book, and the possession of a copy was forbidden under grievous penalties. Peter Walsh preached nine sermons against it on five successive Sundays and holidays in St. Canice’s Cathedral, and had no difficulty in showing that loyalty to a Protestant king was an essential part of the Confederacy’s political creed.[116]

Rinuccini, though O’Neill was his only champion, came to hate him almost as much as he hated Ormonde. He even made excuses for Preston, whose intrigues with the latter might be explained by O’Neill’s ambition ‘under cover of religion.’ After Benburb, the northern general had increased his army without orders, and he thirsted for the plunder of Leinster. Monck took care that he should have no supplies from Eastern Ulster. ‘If I had not sent my confessor to dissuade him from so unjust a resolution,’ said the nuncio, ‘Kilkenny would have been sacked and much innocent blood shed.’ Wherever O’Neill went, the Ulster soldiers, ‘barbarous enough by nature, although good Catholics,’ spread terror and destruction around. The worst of it was that they called themselves the army of Pope and Church, and when they ‘perform any act of cruelty or robbery, the sufferers execrate his Holiness and me, and curse the clergy, whom they consider the patrons of this army.’ Two regiments harried the property of Mountgarret, who brought a crowd of women to the nuncio’s house, ‘where they made a dreadful uproar with howls and lamentations, thus giving it to be understood that I countenanced the cruelties perpetrated by the Ulster men.’ After the failure of the attack on Dublin, O’Neill was made general of Connaught, and devoted himself to the affairs of that province. He was at Boyle, preparing to march against Sligo, when the news of Dungan Hill reached him, with a pressing summons to enter Leinster again, so as to prevent Inchiquin from joining hands with Jones. Muskerry was a party to this, for he could see no other means of safety; but O’Neill refused to move. The personal entreaties of Bishop Macmahon at last prevailed, but many of his officers, with Alexander MacDonnell at their head, refused to obey. Partly by persuasion and partly by turning his guns on the mutineers, the general pacified them for the time, and established his quarters at Castlejordan in Meath, until November 1647. He had then collected about 12,000 foot and 1500 horse, and with these he proceeded to make a famine round Dublin. Tichborne followed the northern army everywhere, and cut off many stragglers. The destroyers passed near the scene of Preston’s defeat to Dunboyne and Clonee, and all southern Meath was burned or spoiled. Turning northwards, they went almost to Balbriggan. Two hundred fires were counted at one time from St. Audoen’s steeple in Dublin. On the sixth day, between Ratoath and Garristown, Jones and Tichborne showed themselves; and the latter wished to fight, but was overruled, so that O’Neill returned to Castlejordan without having to strike a blow. He offered to quarter 4000 men in Munster, who were to spare the Confederates while galling Inchiquin’s partisans; but the provincials refused such help. Inchiquin’s methods of making war were not gentle, but there was some excuse for doubting whether the deliverers would be much better.[117]

Having access to a sea which their friends commanded, neither Jones nor Inchiquin were easy to assail. They could always retire into their coast towns and exist there somehow. Yet the Munster Protestants were in miserable state enough. ‘It would make your soul bleed,’ writes a resident in Cork to his cousin in England, ‘to see the poor common soldier march out with never a whole rag to his back, nor shoe to his foot, feeble and faint for want of what should suffice nature.’ The prospect of a battle was a relief, and ‘those that were sickish skipped for joy.’ Taaffe, says the author of the ‘Aphorismical Discovery,’ ‘was a well-spoken man of both art and delivery, a fencer, a runner of a tilt, a brave, generous gamester, and an exceeding good potator in any liquor you please.’ He was a brave soldier, but more diplomatist than general. In the King’s interest, Digby had urged him to avoid a general action, but Fabian tactics require a Fabius, and probably he was forced to fight by the feeling which Inchiquin’s doings at Cashel had excited. At all events, he drew his forces together early in November, when Inchiquin concentrated his at Mallow, and went to look for him. Taaffe, with 7000 foot and 1200 horse, was strongly posted on the hill of Knocknanuss, about three miles to the eastward of Kanturk. A bog and stream ran along his front. Inchiquin with a much smaller force advanced to a place called Garryduff on November 12, where he received a letter from Taaffe, who declared that he was fighting in the King’s cause, and proposed a contest between 2000 foot a side, ‘more for recreation’ than for any serious military reason. Inchiquin retorted that Taaffe was not really preserving the King’s interest, and that he would wait till the morning before engaging in a battle for recreation. He sheltered his army in a wood for the night, and when the first light disclosed Taaffe’s position, suggested in his turn that he should descend from his hill, cross the stream, and fight ‘upon a very fair piece of ground.’ Taaffe answered verbally that he was soldier enough to improve the advantage that he had. He refused to abandon his position, but did what was nearly as bad by shifting his men in sight of the enemy and finally posting them so that the bend of the hill hid his two wings from one another. The right, under Alexander MacDonnell, consisted of Scots islanders and Ulstermen, the Munster troops being on the left, where Taaffe himself stood. Inchiquin began the attack with his artillery, but the Highlanders, having fired a volley, threw away their muskets and rushed sword-in-hand upon the guns, of which they retained possession for an hour. Inchiquin’s left was driven back towards Mallow, but on the right he was completely victorious. Rupert’s faults were not his, and he did not pursue, but turned back to look after his defeated wing. The Highlanders and Purcell’s horse, believing the battle won, were scattered all over the country, and made no effective resistance. Half of Taaffe’s army were slain, the remainder flying to Liscarroll and Newmarket; while Inchiquin lost only about 150 men. ‘We were killing till night,’ he says; and few prisoners were made, except among the officers. The arms of 6000 men strewed the field, and Taaffe’s commission from the Confederates as general of Munster was taken with his baggage. Bellings had heard that Alexander Macdonnell was killed by an officer in cold blood, after quarter given; but the English accounts give no hint of this; and Rinuccini says distinctly that he refused quarter. The result of the battle was to place all Munster at Inchiquin’s discretion, except Limerick, Waterford, Clonmel, and Kilmallock. He received the thanks of Parliament, and 1000l. were voted to buy horses.[118]

The General Assembly of the Confederates met at Kilkenny on November 12, the day before the battle of Knocknanuss. In the previous year there had been seventy-three members to represent Ulster, and these had given Rinuccini his majority. This time, ‘from poverty or some other cause,’ only nine appeared, who claimed to hold proxies for the whole number. This claim was disallowed, and Munster and Connaught, being under-represented owing to the difficulties of travel, the powers lay with ‘the mob of Leinster, many of them the minions of Muskerry.’ On the very day of meeting, apparently, the Assembly proceeded to pass what was in effect a new constitution. This document, extending to fifteen printed pages, and no doubt carefully prepared beforehand, begins by setting forth the ruin wrought by military violence. To repress this for the future a new Supreme Council was appointed, consisting of twelve from each province; but the real power was given to a committee of twelve ‘residents,’ three for each province, chosen out of the larger number. Bellings was one of the twelve, only two of whom were bishops; of these, Edmund O’Dwyer, Bishop of Limerick, was a pronounced Ormondist; while Emer Macmahon of Clogher was by no means averse to treating with the Lord Lieutenant. When seven, being an absolute majority of the committee, came to any decision, the dissidents were to sign as if they had been assenting parties. Elaborate orders were made for the repression of malefactors, for raising money, and for the arming and training of a militia consisting of all men between sixteen and sixty, ‘forcing such as are able to provide for themselves swords and muskets, and the rest pikes and skeyns.’ It was recited that in all former assemblies many of the members had been ‘serving-men and men uninterested in the kingdom,’ and ordered that only estated gentlemen should be eligible in future. Finally, orders were given for the regulation of the ‘creaghts’ or nomad herdsmen of Ulster, who had followed Owen Roe O’Neill into the other three provinces and settled upon them like locusts, turning the cultivated country into a desert.[119]

‘I wonder,’ wrote Henrietta Maria to her husband a few days before the Assembly met at Kilkenny, ‘that the Irish do not give themselves to some foreign king; you will force them to it in the end, when they see themselves offered as a sacrifice.’ Many in Ireland were of the same opinion, and Rinuccini feared that Louis XIV. would be chosen. His own sympathies were rather Spanish, but he could not deny that France was likely to be the best paymaster and the most vigorous protector. A neutral would be preferable, and, like a good Florentine, he suggested the Grand Duke Ferdinand II. who had sent or promised some arms. But the Assembly had no thought of repudiating the English Crown, though they eagerly sought help from Continental sovereigns, and even from the Dutch States-General. None of the envoys chosen were such as Rinuccini approved. Bishop French and Sir Nicholas Plunket were sent to Rome, and in this case he could say that the object of the Council was to get good men out of the way. They were to represent generally the fidelity of Ireland and her need of help, and in particular to beg the Pope’s intercession with the Queen and Prince, with the sovereigns of France and Spain, and with all other Christian princes. If all else failed, they were empowered to invite Innocent to be himself protector of Ireland, and they were to ask his help even if matters should be accommodated with the Queen and Prince. Sir Richard Blake, a decided opponent of the nuncio, was sent to Spain with instructions to offer the protectorship to the King; but only in the last resort and after they had heard the result of the Roman mission. The same instructions were given to those who went to France. Viscount Muskerry, Bishop Emer Macmahon, and Geoffrey Brown were at first chosen; but Macmahon positively refused to go on the grounds that the Queen hated him, that Jermyn and Digby had threatened his life for opposing the Ormonde peace, and that he spoke neither French nor English. The latter can hardly have been strictly the case, but perhaps he did not speak well enough for diplomacy. It was nevertheless carried by a majority that he should be compelled to go. ‘He then rose,’ says Rinuccini, ‘and, with much displeasure, added the following words: “You, sirs, have gained your victory, but I say that under no circumstances will I go to France.”’ More than fifty members left the hall, exclaiming that the Confederation was at end; but a bishop said that the disaffection of one need not dissolve the union of others. Muskerry, Taaffe, and Preston wished to imprison Macmahon, but the mayor sheltered him. There was a cry that O’Neill was coming, and the city gates were shut. Preston went to look for soldiers, and when Macmahon returned to the Assembly next day he was driven away as being himself under discussion. The lawyers said a bishop might be imprisoned, but the clergy objected, and the Council contented themselves with forbidding him to leave the city. In the end, Antrim was substituted for the bishop as envoy to France, and the matter dropped for the time.[120]

On December 16 Inchiquin marched out of Cork with 1000 foot and a few horse, ‘and was fain to have a gathering among the poor inhabitants to get so much monies as to buy them brogues to keep their feet from being cut to pieces by ice.’ Owing to the difficulty of feeding men and horses, he could not increase his force materially. But, small as it was, Rinuccini reported at the end of January that it met with no resistance anywhere. A few days later Inchiquin relieved Cahir, occupied Carrick, and repaired the bridge there; threatened Waterford, where Rinuccini then was, and, turning northward, took Callan by assault. No artillery was used, all the gates being blown down with petards, and three hundred men were put to the sword, ‘besides some women, which the soldiers’ mercy would not extend to, notwithstanding orders to the contrary.’ The victors were unpaid and half starved, and even the officers underwent ‘intolerable extremities.’ Fethard was also in Inchiquin’s hands, and the Council of the Confederates fled in haste to Kilkenny from Clonmel, whither they had gone to compose local differences. Rinuccini went to Waterford, and Inchiquin raised contributions up to the very walls of Kilkenny. Perhaps he did not really want to take it, being already suspected of a wish to turn against the Parliament which had supplied his wants so ill. His officers continued to protest their fidelity, but dwelt upon the ‘improbable successes’ which they had attained without help. The Derby House Committee promised money and clothes, which either never came or came in ridiculously small quantities, showing that they were distrusted. They would be obliged to make terms with the rebels, unless Parliament sent shipping to fetch them off. The officers’ remonstrance was not read in the House of Commons until March 27, but Inchiquin had been for some time in communication with Ormonde. This did not prevent him from attempting a junction with Jones, which was prevented by O’Neill, or from sending Major Patterson to Edinburgh, offering to join the Scots with 6000 men if they would declare for the King against the English Parliament.[121]

On landing in England, Ormonde went for a few days to Acton, near Bristol, where he stayed with his uncle, Sir Robert Poyntz. Having received a pass from Fairfax, he went to London and to the King at Hampton Court, to whom he presented an elaborate account of his proceedings in Ireland. He had a friendly meeting with Fairfax at Putney, and lived for some time at Kingston, to be near the King; but the army became jealous of the Royalist confabulations at Hampton Court, and on October 9 he had to take leave of Charles, whom he never saw again. He returned to Acton, which was conveniently near to Ireland, and sent, first, Colonel John Barry, and then Edward Synge, afterwards Bishop of Cloyne, to negotiate with Inchiquin. Fearing that he might be arrested, he crossed the country to Hastings and escaped in a fishing-boat to Dieppe. Many believed that he had gone to Scotland. He reached Paris early in March where he met Glamorgan and Antrim, each of them hoping to be the ‘Catholic viceroy’ for whom Rinuccini had so long contended. Muskerry and Brown reached St. Malo on March 14, and on April 2 made written proposals to the Queen and Prince. They were debarred from considering religious matters until the return of the envoys from Rome, and were content to stand for the present upon the terms of the Ormonde peace. In the case of property they were more specific, insisting that all lands forfeited since the first year of James and reconquered since October 23, 1641, from ‘any of the party adverse to us’ should be confirmed to the actual holders, that all who had lost their estates since the accession should be allowed to recover them, no statute or patent being pleadable to the contrary. No king of England could have granted these terms, and Henrietta was surrounded by English Protestants. Ormonde advised a friendly answer without any definite promises, and this course was taken. The Queen and Prince regretted the violation of the late peace, declined to discuss matters of religion with men who were not authorised to treat, and promised to send someone to Ireland empowered to ‘condescend to whatever may consist with justice and with his Majesty’s honour and interest to grant unto the said Confederated Catholics.’ This answer was not given till May 13, by which time the situation in Ireland had materially changed.[122]

CHAPTER XXIX

INCHIQUIN, RINUCCINI, AND ORMONDE, 1648