yet it might well be doubted whether these taxes would be
sufficient. Why, it was asked, should not the cost of the Irish war be
borne by the Irish insurgents? How those insurgents had acted in their
mock Parliament all the world knew; and nothing could be more reasonable
than to mete to them from their own measure. They ought to be treated
as they had treated the Saxon colony. Every acre which the Act of
Settlement had left them ought to be seized by the state for the purpose
of defraying that expense which their turbulence and perverseness had
made necessary. It is not strange that a plan which at once gratified
national animosity, and held out the hope of pecuniary relief, should
have been welcomed with eager delight. A bill was brought in which bore
but too much resemblance to some of the laws passed by the Jacobite
legislators of Dublin. By this bill it was provided that the property of
every person who had been in rebellion against the King and Queen since
the day on which they were proclaimed should be confiscated, and that
the proceeds should be applied to the support of the war. An exception
was made in favour of such Protestants as had merely submitted to
superior force; but to Papists no indulgence was shown. The royal
prerogative of clemency was limited. The King might indeed, if such were
his pleasure, spare the lives of his vanquished enemies; but he was not
to be permitted to save any part of their estates from the general doom.
He was not to have it in his power to grant a capitulation which should
secure to Irish Roman Catholics the enjoyment of their hereditary lands.
Nay, he was not to be allowed to keep faith with persons whom he had
already received to mercy, who had kissed his hand, and had heard from
his lips the promise of protection. An attempt was made to insert a
proviso in favour of Lord Dover. Dover, who, with all his faults, was
not without some English feelings, had, by defending the interests of
his native country at Dublin, made himself odious to both the Irish and
the French. After the battle of the Boyne his situation was deplorable.
Neither at Limerick nor at Saint Germains could he hope to be welcomed.
In his despair, he threw himself at William's feet, promised to live
peaceably, and was graciously assured that he had nothing to fear.
Though the royal word seemed to be pledged to this unfortunate man,
the Commons resolved, by a hundred and nineteen votes to a hundred
and twelve, that