CHEATING KING JAMES.
When Chichester realised that the Charter to the Londoners was to
include the Bann and Lough Foyle, he began a game of cross-purposes
to undermine the royal project. On the return of Sir John Davies from
London, bringing him the gift of O’Doherty’s barony of Innishowen
(July, 1609), he got the Attorney-General to join him in a fresh
intrigue against the King. They planned an excursion to Ulster,
ostensibly for the purpose of executing a Commission—long out of
date—to ascertain the ecclesiastical lands of the Sees of Derry,
Raphoe, and Clogher; but in reality to devise means to thwart his
Majesty’s policy.
The Commission was issued on the 2nd May, 1606, three years earlier,
and, therefore, was utterly stale. The Flight of the Earls was
already an event two years old, and one which left Bishop Montgomery
in undisputed enjoyment of Catholic dues. Yet the Deputy was smitten
with such heady zeal for Church interests in 1609 that he must needs
visit the Ulster vineyard in haste to care for the elect under the
pastoral eye of the Attorney-General.
Before setting out he performed a miracle worthy of his pen. This
was to “annex” to the spent Commission of 1606 “certain articles
of instruction under the Great Seal of Ireland” so that he should
be enabled “to inquire of divers things in the said Commission and
articles of instruction.” In vagueness nothing could be more studied.
The added “articles” were dated the 21st July, 1609, and they
completely altered the scope of the Commission. The King had directed
a merely ecclesiastical inquiry, but the Deputy, who for three years
neglected to hold it, “amended” the royal instructions in his own
behoof. Great was the magic of “amendment.” He was careful not to
enrol or record the alterations; and, therefore, the added “articles”
remain as undiscoverable as the Bassett-Hamilton conveyances, or the
Patents of 1603.
Under their authority Chichester sat with Davies and others at
Limavady on the 30th August, 1609, and held a Court. His purpose was
to set up a claim to the Bann in order to oust the Londoners, and
so overreach them that their Charter in that respect must prove a
nullity. In the castle of his prisoner, O’Cahan, knowing that the
Crown was striving to perfect the contract with the Undertakers,
he empanelled a jury of Brehons and leading natives to defeat
the intentions of his royal master. The jury, under the original
Commission, could only have ascertained the title to and scope of
Church rights, but under the invented “articles of instruction” the
Deputy got them to add a finding which declared that the Bann, from
Coleraine to Lough Neagh, with its bed and soil, belonged to himself.
The Brehon jury was first set on to make voluminous ecclesiastical
pronouncements; and, having spent the day thereat, they completed
their work with the verdict in Chichester’s favour. He presided over
the inquiry himself, as he did in the suits of “O’Cahan against
O’Neill” and “Hamilton against MacDonnell.” Doubtless, he strove
to impress the “lewd” Brehons by his judicial bearing, but they
understood little of his purpose. They spoke Gaelic and Latin, but
not English; and Sir Arthur laid before them his grant of the river
to Hamilton in Latin, and Hamilton’s Latin assignment to himself.
Their “finding” he set down in English—a tongue then rarely used in
legal documents. Its import was unknown to them, and his scribes,
doubtless, wrote out whatever he desired. It is tacked on at the
end of a long ecclesiastical verdict, with which it is wholly
disconnected. The Brehons had been assembled to declare and earmark
the local belongings of the Church, and were asked by the presiding
judge to decide that the Bann was his property. If they really did so
and if the “tack” was not subsequently made Davies must have enjoyed
the sight of the Deputy “charging” a wild Irish jury in Latin in his
own interest, and availing of their lack of English to cheat the
English King.
The verdict when engrossed was personally signed by Chichester. The
Archbishop of Armagh and the Bishop of Derry added their saintly
names. These were followed by the signatures of the Attorney-General,
the Chief Justice, the Surveyor-General, and the Vice-Treasurer.
The “lewd” Brehons’ finding was worthily witnessed in Church and
State. As Parsons subscribed it his mind must have turned back in
placid contemplation to the Antrim Inquisition of 1605, when he first
shuffled the cards to jink success to his master in the great game he
was playing.
The Deputy, from beneath O’Cahan’s roof, dispatched an austere
account of the proceedings to the King. Having circumvented the
royal policy, he edified his Majesty by inveighing against “the
insatiable humours of craving men,” and held forth on “the duty
and service I owe to my sovereign.” He wound up with the boast
that “the justice of the land, without being thought a praiser of
myself, was never distributed with more clean hands in this kingdom.”
Davies sent a companion report which glowed with ecstacy over their
visit, but omitted everything that the King ought to have known.
As they compared notes for these dispatches the walls of O’Cahan’s
castle must have rocked with laughter. The augurs sometimes enjoyed
themselves.
While this sport went forward the Corporation of London, which was
about to levy a heavy assessment on its citizens to defray the cost
of the Plantation, had its agents in the North to view the country.
They met the Deputy at Limavady just as his letters were being sent
off to James I. They discussed with him the terms of the proposed
Charter, and he gave them much wise counsel as to the carriage of
their adventure. The one point he forgot to mention was that he was
an adverse claimant against them for the Bann and Lough Foyle—the
chief ingredients in their bargain.
As they took their leave the agents warmly gave thanks, believing
him to be a stout ally; and, on reaching London, they reported in
favour of the Plantation. Five months later (28th January, 1610) the
City accepted a grant of County Derry, with the Bann and Lough Foyle,
and agreed to “plant” the North. No more solemn State contract is on
record. Yet it was cankered from its inception by official duplicity.
When James I. learnt through Sir Randal MacDonnell of the transfer
of the tidal Bann to Hamilton he did not realise—angry though he
was—that the non-tidal river and Lough Neagh had also been granted
away. He therefore promised to reacquire for the Londoners at his
own expense what he supposed had been inadvertently parted with.
Chichester never openly asserted ownership of the fisheries, for
he hoped that a breakdown would occur in the negotiations with the
City. These, indeed, were often on the verge of miscarriage; but, as
time and argument went on, one obstacle after another was overcome.
Finally the agreement of 1610 became the Charter of 1613.
Towards the end of 1610 the agents of the Londoners arrived to take
possession of their new estate. Their coming forced the Deputy to
change his tactics. He saw that the waters he had seized could
not all be retained, and arranged with Hamilton to make a partial
surrender of them and seek compensation for the “sacrifice.”
James I., unaware of the pretensions of any claimant to Lough Foyle
and the Bann, had covenanted to give the Londoners an unclogged
title. They naturally expected that all blots on it would be removed
before they made a venture costing (in present moneys) £600,000.
The Charter guaranteed that, if necessary, their rights would be
confirmed by Acts of Parliament both in England and Ireland.
The “bag” of the Ulster fisheries by Sir Arthur and his partner then
stood:—
Lough Foyle and Culmore Chichester’s.
Lough Neagh Chichester’s.
The non-tidal Bann Chichester’s.
One quarter of the tidal Bann Chichester’s.
Three-quarters of the tidal Bann Hamilton’s.
As deserving owners they were ready to make sacrifices for prompt
cash to further the royal policy, and yield up what had been
contracted to the Londoners. The Deputy modestly kept in the
background, and Hamilton represented him as Claims Agent.
With tradesmanlike particularity, the “Scot” sent in a bill to his
Majesty through Chichester, who frigidly transmitted it to London
as an impartial broker. It prettily set out that Hamilton, with
seven mythical partners, disbursed £4,760 in buying up the estates
of “sundry persons” in the Bann and Lough Foyle—over and above “the
costs and charges expended as well in suits of law as otherwise for
the clearing of sundry titles and claims.” This account was vouched
by the Deputy as accurate, and his disinterested corroboration of
its fairness was accepted by his royal master. Without further
investigation £4,500 (or, in modern values, £45,000) was paid to
Hamilton in June, 1610.
The King’s undertaking to defray the expense of clearing the title
for the Londoners weighed heavily on his cramped resources. Shrinking
at the outlay, he refused to provide more than £2,500, and left the
balance, £2,000, to be paid by the other victims—the Corporation.
Between regal meanness and viceregal greed, the Londoners were
effectively squeezed.
The Lords of the Council had, in April, 1609, commanded a trial of
Hamilton’s dispute with MacDonnell as to the “fourth” of the tidal
Bann; and, although Chichester then showed no sign of compliance, he
saw his advantage in reviving the quarrel, as soon as the money was
received. He and Hamilton for him had taken “compensation” on making
over to the Crown, fisheries which did not belong to them, and which,
as regards the Bann, were owned either by the Church or by O’Neill,
O’Cahan, and Sir Randal MacDonnell. O’Cahan was a captive, O’Neill in
exile, and against neither fugitive nor hostage had any forfeiture
been decreed. MacDonnell being a royal favourite could not handily
be banished, attainted, or imprisoned, yet his “fourth,” which the
Deputy had “put in sequestration pending a suit at law,” was airily
disposed of as a chattel of “the Scot’s.” Then a ponderous scheme to
“legally” divest Sir Randal of it was thought out. This grotesque
conception is described in the staid pages of the earliest volume of
law reports officially published to illustrate the wondrous workings
of English justice in Ireland when the overthrow of the Brehon Code
was decreed. The decision, like that which set aside as “barbarous”
the native system of equity, fell from caitiffs robed as Judges, as
inferior in worth and reputation as they were in learning, culture,
and honesty to the Brehons they replaced.