he royal command,
for a short recess. The same Gazette which announced that the Houses had
ceased to sit announced that Schomberg had landed in Ireland, [428]

During the three weeks which preceded his landing, the dismay and
confusion at Dublin Castle had been extreme. Disaster had followed
disaster so fast that the mind of James, never very firm, had been
completely prostrated. He had learned first that Londonderry had
been relieved; then that one of his armies had been beaten by the
Enniskilleners; then that another of his armies was retreating, or
rather flying, from Ulster, reduced in numbers and broken in spirit;
then that Sligo, the key of Connaught, had been abandoned to the
Englishry. He had found it impossible to subdue the colonists, even when
they were left almost unaided. He might therefore well doubt whether it
would be possible for him to contend against them when they were backed
by an English army, under the command of the greatest general living.
The unhappy prince seemed, during some days, to be sunk in despondency.
On Avaux the danger produced a very different effect. Now, he thought,
was the time to turn the war between the English and the Irish into a
war of extirpation, and to make it impossible that the two nations could
ever be united under one government. With this view, he coolly submitted
to the King a proposition of almost incredible atrocity. There must be
a Saint Bartholomew. A pretext would easily be found. No doubt, when
Schomberg was known to be in Ireland, there would be some excitement in
those southern towns of which the population was chiefly English. Any
disturbance, wherever it might take place, would furnish an excuse for a
general massacre of the Protestants of Leinster, Munster, and
Connaught, [429] As the King did not at first express any horror at this
suggestion, [430] the Envoy, a few days later, renewed the subject, and
pressed His Majesty to give the necessary orders. Then James, with a
warmth which did him honour, declared that nothing should induce him to
commit such a crime. "These people are my subjects; and I cannot be
so cruel as to cut their throats while they live peaceably under my
government." "There is nothing cruel," answered the callous diplomatist,
"in what I recommend. Your Majesty ought to consider that mercy to
Protestants is cruelty to Catholics." James, however, was not to be
moved; and Avaux retired in very bad humour. His belief was that the
King's pr