valour had brought the war in Ireland to a triumphant close.
Another estate had been given, with the title of Earl of Galway,
to Rouvigny, who, in the crisis of the decisive battle, at the
very moment when Saint Ruth was waving his hat, and exclaiming
that the English should be beaten back to Dublin, had, at the
head of a gallant body of horse, struggled through the morass,
turned the left wing of the Celtic army, and retrieved the day.
But the predominant faction, drunk with insolence and animosity,
made no distinction between courtiers who had been enriched by
injudicious partiality and warriors who had been sparingly
rewarded for great exploits achieved in defence of the liberties
and the religion of our country. Athlone was a Dutchman; Galway
was a Frenchman; and it did not become a good Englishman to say a
word in favour of either.

Yet this was not the most flagrant injustice of which the Commons
were guilty. According to the plainest principles of common law
and of common sense, no man can forfeit any rights except those
which he has. All the donations which William had made he had
made subject to this limitation. But by this limitation the
Commons were too angry and too rapacious to be bound. They
determined to vest in the trustees of the forfeited lands an
estate greater than had ever belonged to the forfeiting
landholders. Thus innocent persons were violently deprived of
property which was theirs by descent or by purchase, of property
which had been strictly respected by the King and by his
grantees. No immunity was granted even to men who had fought on
the English side, even to men who had lined the walls of
Londonderry and rushed on the Irish guns at Newton Butler.