Clarendon, by the King’s orders, had hurriedly escaped to France, to be followed into exile by an Act of Parliament banishing him for life. Clarendon was gone; and the “Cabal” administration had begun.[319] If the year 1667 ended anxiously for the Boyle family, the year 1668 was to prove more anxious still. Lord Orrery had returned to Ireland to take up his presidency of Munster, and was living in great splendour at Charleville; but he and the Lord Lieutenant, Ormonde, disagreed; and in the autumn of 1668 Lord Orrery had resigned the presidency and was back in England. He had “been advised,” says Morrice, “that his credit at Court had begun to decline,” and that it would be wise for him to be on the spot. He was very much on the spot when Pepys met him, in October, at Lord Arlington’s house. In spite of his gout, the urbanity of the Boyle family had not forsaken him. He “took notice” of Pepys, and began a “discourse of hangings, and of the improvement of shipping”; and Pepys presently discovered that Lord Orrery was paying “a mighty compliment” to his abilities and ingenuity, “which I am mighty proud of, and he do speak most excellently.” But later in November came a rude awakening. It was now my Lord Orrery’s turn to be impeached in the House of Commons, “for raising of moneys by his own authority upon his Majesty’s subjects.” When the summons came, Lord Orrery was laid up with a severe attack of gout; and when he was well enough, a few days later, to answer the summons in person, he could scarcely manage to get up the steps from Westminster Hall to the Court of Request. A friend, passing by, remarked that my Lord of Orrery walked with difficulty and pain. “Yes, sir,” said Orrery, “my feet are weak; but if my heels will serve to carry me up, I promise you my head shall bring me safe down again.” And it did. He made an able defence—sitting, because of his gout; and at the psychological moment, so the story runs, the King put an end to the proceedings by proroguing both Houses.[320] Impeachments might be as thick as blackberries; Lord Orrery might discourse cheerfully of “hangings” at a dinner party at Lord Arlington’s house; but, after all, it was only five-and-twenty years since the old Earl of Cork had died in harness with all his sons in the field. It would have been inconvenient to overlook such services and such sacrifices as the great Boyle family in Ireland had rendered to their Kings.