A SCOTCH “DISCOVERER.”
Chichester’s place in Dublin Castle was taken by his old servitor,
Sir Oliver St. John. The veteran himself retired to Carrickfergus,
and there awaited his opportunity, spreading his nets patiently and
preparing for the future. Davies was retained as Attorney-General,
and this became a great comfort to the ex-Deputy.
St. John was a Lincoln’s Inn lawyer of the Davies School. He served
in the Elizabethan wars, and was a protégé of Devonshire and Cecil.
After James I. came to the Throne care was taken to provide him
with suitable posts in Ireland. As Deputy, St. John was not without
sympathy for his old master, although formerly he had smarted under
his lash. Before a year went by the position of Lord High Treasurer
fell vacant through the death of the Earl of Ormonde, and St. John
and Davies secured the place for their fallen friend. Chichester,
greatly mollified thereby, assured the Privy Council, on 24th
December, 1616, that “as matters are handled, I think Ireland is at
the height of her happiness.” Probably from anything that has since
occurred this was true enough.
The new post gave him control over the Crown rentals and other
records serviceable to his designs. It also helped him to cloak (for
the moment) the embezzlement of the rents of the fugitive Chiefs.
Accusing voices as to his misdemeanours were however raised, and
James I. tried in vain to fathom them. St. John (with the facts
staring him in the face) hesitated to expose his former patron.
Still the King was not blind; and in October, 1618, the storm broke.
Sir James Balfour was dispatched to Dublin with secret orders
from his Majesty to rip open the Patent scandal, and have Hamilton
cross-examined in the Star Chamber by St. John.
Balfour was a Scottish “discoverer” (or informer), who ferreted for
reward to lay bare the tricks of estated magnates against the Crown.
Having laid informations before the King as to the orgies of the late
administration, he was commissioned to unearth its misdeeds. His
arrival in Ireland caused consternation. St. John sent for Hamilton;
and, as his Majesty ordained, questioned him straitly. The perturbed
Deputy treated Balfour’s revelations as something which had suddenly
burst upon him; and Hamilton was naturally disinclined to add to
his knowledge. His uncommunicativeness led to a request for the
production of the originals of his Patents. No record of these had
been officially kept, in order to defeat investigation; and Hamilton,
aware of his advantage, demurred. He was, therefore, commanded by St.
John to take down in writing, as from the King, a behest to bring
them in forthwith for inspection. This was an awkward moment; and the
culprit, having written out the command, asked for time, and got it.
Before the day fixed for the next heckling, Hamilton consulted
Chichester; and, fortified by his courage, instead of obeying, sent
an evasive letter pretending that he did not understand the royal
wishes. At this St. John affected to be nonplussed; but the truth was
that the task of playing inquisitor against his old confederates was
distasteful to him, and ill became his past. So, instead of putting
on pressure, and forcing Hamilton to produce the parchments, he
weakened and suspended the inquiry.
Sir James Balfour, keen for the chase, beset him and demanded
effective action in the King’s name; but the sore-pressed Deputy
feared either to refuse or to comply. In his perplexity, he hit on
the expedient of sending a messenger to Court, begging to be spared
further part in an odious duty. His envoy was the Vice-Treasurer,
Sir Francis Blundell, an underling of the Lord High Treasurer. To
him the errand was entrusted of seeking out Villiers, Marquis of
Buckingham, the royal favourite, and plying him with “arguments” to
hush up the inquiry. Villiers (soon to be Duke of Buckingham) was
all-powerful with James I.
“Those who wanted to gain the King to their ends learned that the
easiest way was to approach him through his favourite.” So intimate
were their relations that his Majesty would say:—“Christ had his
John, and I have my George.” Buckingham took “presents” from suitors,
pestered the Lord Chancellor with attempts to interfere in Chancery
suits, and secured largesse for his pains. He retained his mastery
at Court into the following reign, when his excesses led to his
assassination. With such a courtier, no well-weighted appeal could
fail, and Sir Francis Blundell set out from Dublin supplied with a
letter from St. John, and other gear for the all-powerful Marquis.
The only copy of this letter which has been preserved was found
amongst the papers of Chichester’s relatives. It, therefore, probably
was composed by the Lord High Treasurer himself. It runs:—
“It has pleased his Majesty to employ Sir James Balfour hither, for
the examination of some articles exhibited unto his Majesty against
Sir James Hamilton, with especial warrant, by his princely letter
unto me and some of the Council here, to receive such informations
as his Majesty had committed unto Sir James Balfour’s trust, to be
imparted unto us. In obedience to which, we have, with all care and
secrecy, proceeded therein, and given his Majesty a just account
of what we have found, wherewith I hope his Majesty hath received
good satisfaction. And, albeit my duty must ever tie me to obey his
Majesty’s Royal commandments before all other respects, yet I have
suffered much in the opinion of noble and worthy personages, as well
in England as here, as if I had entered into a business unfitting
the place of his Majesty’s Deputy, who ought tenderly to preserve
his Majesty’s subjects in peace and contentment, and not be an
instrument of blemishing the reputations and questioning the estates
and fortunes of any man. The business of Sir James Hamilton is now
brought to that estate as I hope I shall hear no more of it.
“Yet, lest his Majesty may, by information given unto him in the
like nature, be drawn to employ my services again in that kind of
examination concerning the lives and estates of any of those who
are, by his Majesty’s princely favour, committed to my charge and
government, I hope his Majesty will be graciously pleased to join
to mine assistance his principal servants and councillors of this
kingdom, and that his warrants and commissions may be open, and the
proceedings in them fair and legal. Otherwise, if I be commanded to
handle them in a private manner myself alone, or with some only,
whatever misfortune shall light upon any, I shall be reputed the
causer of it, and cast myself into general hatred, and shall be
unable to do his Majesty that service in this kingdom which he may
expect from an officer employed in so weighty a charge.
“I humbly pray your lordship to hearken to Sir Francis Blundell, whom
I have entreated to wait upon your lordship in this particular, and
to vouchsafe unto me your honourable care for my preservation.”
This could only mean that Buckingham was to get the secret procedure
(which the King had ordained) quashed; and allow St. John to hold
any future inquiry in public before the Privy Council, where
Chichester’s creatures held the majority. Blundell’s “arguments”
were so powerful that Buckingham prevailed on the King to drop the
proceedings, and Balfour’s mission ended in smoke. The “articles
exhibited” by him, and the correspondence between the English and
Irish Executives, are not given a place in the State Papers. Only for
disjointed entries and letters in the family archives of Hamilton
and Chichester, posterity would never have heard of the perils they
ran or the struggles of St. John to rescue them. The official records
must have been made away with. Balfour before long was consoled
for the abandonment of the investigation. To keep his mouth shut
he was presented with lands in Ulster after his return to England,
and therewith rested content. Amongst his papers printed in 1837 by
the Abbotsford Club (Edinburgh) were copies of Hamilton’s “Thomas
Irelande” Letter of the 6th December, 1604, and that of the 16th
April, 1605, granting Sir Con O’Neill’s estate. These evidently
formed part of his “brief” for the Discovery.
Even if Balfour’s inquiry had been pressed home, the resourceful
Chichester would not have been taken unawares. He had skilfully
tampered with the State ledgers to prepare a bulwark of defence
if challenged as to his part in the seizure of the fisheries. On
becoming Lord High Treasurer, the rent-rolls of the Exchequer lay
under his hand, and these were manipulated with clerkly art. An
insertion in them in 1618 correlates with the period of Balfour’s
inquiry. It casually records that Lord Chichester is owner of the
Bann and Lough Neagh, although everyone knew that the river had
been granted to the Londoners in 1610—apart from the “surrender” by
the ex-Deputy in 1611. The entry seemed quite business-like, and
reads:—“Arthur, Lord Chichester, assignee of James Hamilton, knight,
holds the entire fishery of the lake called Lough Neagh, and the
river Bann—per annum 12s. 6d.” A casual scribe might have ledgered
it; yet the words amounted to a royal recognition of his title. No
earlier Crown rent-roll contains such a record, and it was made seven
years after the Bann had been awarded to the Londoners, by Charter,
rent free.
Chichester’s “surrender” disclaimed the river and acknowledged the
receipt of compensation. Still, embedded in the Crown rental, by way
of a scrivener’s note of the trifling rent of 12s. 6d., lurked an
official declaration that the Bann and Lough Neagh belonged to him.
The humblest clerk in State employ knew that no rent for the Bann was
due by anybody. Yet a ledger in Government custody was burdened with
this falsehood in the year in which Balfour “exhibited articles unto
his Majesty against Sir James Hamilton.” No reason can be assigned
for the entry save one—an attempt to build up a defence to meet an
expected attack by the “discoverer.”
The “cooked” ledger consorts with the Lord Treasurer’s past, and with
what remains to be told of his future. The sequel unfolds the same
unending game of grab. Each development reveals a fresh crime, and
evokes renewed wonder at the miscreant’s resourcefulness. As fertile
in the closet as he was ruthless in the camp, Chichester may be
regarded as the embodiment of those vices which, amongst the people
he oppressed, made a byword of the rule he represented and the creed
he sought to spread.