The Viceroys of Ireland Part 7

[Sidenote: A political legacy]

Even in the eighteenth century it was sometimes distinguished to act with the minority, and Chesterfield adopted the now favourite modern pose of championing the weak. He railed at the Government, wrote pamphlets against it, hired men of letters to aid him, and quickly became the leader of that ever-present body of men and women who are dissatisfied, and yet know not what they want. He patronized Johnson and Pope and many others, the majority completely forgotten, and chiefly with their help and his own ready tongue attained the distinction of being the most sought-after man in London society.

Whatever Chesterfield did for pleasure, generally brought him gain, and it is only one of the many lucky incidents of his life that the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Marlborough should have left him 20,000 as a token of her approval of his opposition to the Government. The legacy came in 1744, and at a time when Chesterfield's affairs were once more badly situated.

The Earl of Chesterfield's character and life have been the subject of innumerable essays, but one incident forcibly ill.u.s.trates the real weakness of the man who could afford to view with equanimity the bitter antagonism of his king and queen, and the animosity of the most powerful ministers of the day, and yet confess himself mortally wounded by a jest against him. Like most great wits, Chesterfield had no sense of humour, and his witticisms were merely props {150} on which his general pose rested. One day he happened to be standing in the hall of a coffee-house club in St. James's Street, when he overheard George Selwyn remark to an acquaintance, 'Here comes Joe Miller.' This was too much for Chesterfield, and he struck his name off the club at once.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Earl of Chesterfield]

His appointment to the viceroyalty in 1745 was in the nature of a gift from the Government to the most dangerous dilettante of the day. The king, however, point-blank refused to sign the commission, and there were several stormy interviews between the king and his ministers before the former succ.u.mbed and declared 'his loving cousin and counsellor' Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. In Dublin the announcement of Chesterfield's coming roused the greatest enthusiasm. His wit, his manners, his wealth, his influence and his handsome appearance were all eagerly discussed. Dublin society, anxious to learn from the leader of society, welcomed him with open arms, and so the man who had been instructed that the Papists were dangerous and likely to become rebellious was able to write to London and glibly inform the Government that there was only one dangerous Papist in Ireland, and her name was Eleanor Ambrose, the daughter of a Dublin brewer, and the reigning beauty.

The beginnings of Chesterfield's viceroyalty gave every promise of a brilliant and long reign at Dublin Castle. He entertained freely and lavishly, and exhibited no scruples of refinement at meeting unofficially wealthy tradespeople or {151} successful lawyers. The women, of course, loved him. His reputation as the philosopher of everything that was delightfully wicked and depraved fascinated them, and Chesterfield maintained the pose with ease. There was no one in Dublin to call him Joe Miller, or to sneer at the somewhat second-hand, if not second-rate, wit that flowed from his tongue and pen.

In his serious moments he declared that the foe of Ireland was not Popery, but poverty, and he expressed his amazement that the Irish should be content to live in a condition worse than the negro slaves.

He was viceroy for a very short time, but he gave one gift to Dublin--Phoenix Park, for it was Lord Chesterfield who planted that renowned demesne.

The viceroy was essentially a man of the world, but he did not relax the strict etiquette of the viceregal court. The wives of doctors and lawyers were not allowed within the precincts of the Castle, and great care was taken to limit the _entree_ to the n.o.bility and gentry. The good-natured Lady Chesterfield, during her occasional appearances in Dublin, gained a sort of popularity, more p.r.o.nounced among the trading cla.s.ses, whom she benefited by giving splendid b.a.l.l.s at Dublin Castle, at which only costumes of Irish manufacture were worn. It was something towards the debt she owed the Irish treasury.

She viewed her husband's amours with patience, and the fat and ugly old woman even encouraged them.

[Sidenote: Chesterfield and Miss Ambrose]

To Eleanor Ambrose he paid great attention, {152} carrying on an elaborate flirtation, with all Dublin as the audience. Miss Ambrose, whose reign preceded that of the Gunnings, played her part well, and the brewer's daughter became the centre, if not the leader, of Dublin society. Chesterfield wrote her verses and letters, and at Dublin Castle b.a.l.l.s he always flattered her by his personal attentions. Miss Ambrose, who subsequently became Lady Palmer, never forgot her brief acquaintance with Lord Chesterfield, and ever afterwards his portrait adorned her house. When in the second decade of the nineteenth century Lady Palmer died at her lodgings in Henry Street, Dublin, Chesterfield's portrait hung in the most conspicuous place in her room.

She was then within two years of a hundred in age.

On April 23, 1746, Chesterfield departed from Ireland, having secured leave of absence, and although he promised to return, illness stepped in, and it was deemed advisable that the earl should not be exposed to the damp climate of Ireland. The king was only too pleased to nominate Chesterfield's half-brother, William Stanhope, Earl of Harrington, to the viceroyalty, and even permit the ex-viceroy to become Secretary of State for the northern provinces.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Earl of Harrington]

[Sidenote: The spirit of nationalism]

The selection of Lord Harrington was received with great disfavour in Dublin, where the formation of a national or patriotic party was almost an accomplished fact. Harrington had the misfortune to be viceroy when Charles Lucas was beginning his great campaign against the corruption {153} that existed in official circles in Dublin. Lucas, doctor and enthusiast, was a remarkable man. He was the creator of the idea that Ireland was a nation, and not the happy hunting-ground of Englishmen in search of pensions for themselves and their mistresses. He attacked the Dublin Corporation and all official Ireland, and, of course, the bureaucracy roused itself and crushed him for a time. Harrington, the viceroy, took a leading part in the persecution of Lucas, and succeeded in driving him from the country. Lucas did not return until 1761, but his fearless exposure of corrupt officialdom had its full effects during Harrington's tenure of office. It did more than this, for it aroused the latent intelligence of the ma.s.ses, who began to think for themselves. They saw the best paid positions in the country monopolized by Englishmen--in many cases the office-holders were illiterate--and they realized the monstrous injustice of the custom that permitted the farming out of remunerative situations under the Government. Parliament had to move in the matter, and for the first time in the history of Ireland and England the viceroy and his Council had to be careful, when making or selling fresh appointments, not to do it too openly. Once Harrington was mobbed in the streets of Dublin because he was supposed to be in favour of the abolition of the Irish Parliament--the latter consisting of a body of men bought body and soul by the English Government, though in some cases the price had not been paid. These raised a protest against the exportation of salaries to {154} England for the use of men whose deputies did the work for starvation wages in Dublin.

The viceroy fought with all the tenacity of the fanatic for the retention of the privileges of his cla.s.s. The new tone of the Irish Parliament amazed, but did not frighten him; he ascribed their rebellion to a desire to play to the gallery, but when he discovered to his cost that even the beggars and the blackguards of the city howled their execrations after him in the street, he became aware of the painful fact that the viceroy was no longer a law unto himself.

Lord Chesterfield had described the Irish Parliament in very severe terms. 'The House of Lords is a hospital for incurables,' he wrote, 'but the Commons can hardly be described. Session after session presents one unvaried waste of provincial imbecility.'

That this opinion was not the outcome of his English birth and training he proved by his impartial judgments on other cla.s.ses of Irishmen.

'We have more clever men here in a nutsh.e.l.l,' he wrote from Dublin to a friend in London, 'than can be produced in the whole circle of London.'

Lord Harrington's opinion of the Irish Parliament was even more contemptuous than his brother's, and he affected at all times a sneering att.i.tude towards the members of both houses.

[Sidenote: The Gunning sisters]

The reigning beauties of his viceroyalty were the Gunning sisters.

During Lord Chesterfield's term they had lingered in squalid poverty in an unfas.h.i.+onable part of Dublin, but being old enough to attend the viceregal functions of 1748, {155} they overcame the disadvantage of poverty by accepting from Sheridan, the theatrical manager, the loan of the dresses they subsequently appeared in at the great ball given by the viceroy in honour of the birthday of George II., October 30, 1748.

Lady Caroline Petersham, the viceroy's daughter-in-law, who acted as hostess for him, was greatly struck by the appearance of the Gunnings, and to her interest and that of Lord Harrington was due the first success of the family. The viceroy settled a pension of 150 per annum on the girls' mother, and when they became d.u.c.h.ess of Hamilton and Countess of Coventry, they never forgot the generosity of their first patron. The subsequent fame of the sisters was such that when, in 1755, they paid a visit to Dublin, the viceroy, Lord Harrington, held a levee in their honour.

Throughout his residence in Ireland, Harrington continued to fight, and used every weapon, fair or foul, at his disposal. Lucas, driven from Ireland, was somewhere on the Continent, and several Irish members had been removed from the House by bribery and other methods. Still, there was no suffocating the voice of the people, and in the last month of 1750 Lionel Sackville, Duke of Dorset, was given his second chance as Viceroy of Ireland. Harrington did not know whether to be pleased or not at his removal. He was anxious to rest from the struggle of Irish politics, for he was not the man to create new measures or understand the sentiments of a new order of things, but he was eager to beat the Irish, and to teach them the strength of his authority. Dublin, however, was {156} in no two minds about its att.i.tude towards the departing viceroy. From the moment that the citizens knew of his recall, they lighted bonfires to celebrate it, and held public meetings under the walls of Dublin Castle, in the course of which the speakers publicly thanked G.o.d for having relieved Dublin of the plaguy presence of Harrington. An attempt was made to secure a peaceful and unostentatious exit from the country, but the people would not be denied, and at a hundred points along the route of his departure the ex-viceroy witnessed the humiliating sight of bonfires and speakers alike proclaiming their joy at his departure.

It was, indeed, in remarkable contrast to Lord Chesterfield's brief and brilliant reign.

[Sidenote: Peg Woffington]

The Dublin of Dorset's time was squalid, dirty, and disease-ridden.

The gentry were drinking themselves into penury; the city was crowded with young bloods, who gambled, and drank, and called out each other to give satisfaction on the famous duelling-ground of Phoenix Park. Clubs of all sorts abounded, and were in reality drinking dens. The most famous of all, Daly's, was the headquarters of most of the notorious gamblers and debauchees of the metropolis. Five theatres ministered to the pleasures of the Court and people, and the leading actress was Peg Woffington, the mistress of the Provost of Trinity College. Peg, as we all know, was a high-spirited woman, and full of a sparkling audacity that often amounted to impertinence. On one occasion, when the Duke of Dorset was seated in the royal {157} box at the theatre, she saucily concluded a recitation with the lines:

'Let others with as small pretentions 'Tease you for places or for pensions, I scorn a pension or a place.

My sole design upon your grace-- The sum of my pet.i.tion this-- I claim, my lord, an annual kiss.'

The verses were written by Dr. Andrews, the Provost, and caused great offence in the ranks of the fas.h.i.+onable ladies, who cut the actress for a time. Peg Woffington, however, did not suffer to any considerable extent as a result of her pert address to the viceroy.

Virtue was not the duke's strong point. Many have been the sc.r.a.pes Viceroys of Ireland have got themselves into, but the Duke of Dorset was the only one whose conduct enabled an outraged husband to divorce his wife. The lady in the case was Mrs. La Touche, who declared that love was the hereditary pa.s.sion in her family. A woman who could resist nothing was easy prey to the tenant of Dublin Castle.

Dorset had secured his reappointment by lavish promises. He undertook to restore sanity to Ireland--meaning, of course, Dublin, for officialism did not recognize the provinces--and he guaranteed to bring the Irish Parliament to its senses. In the circ.u.mstances Dorset had his way, and in 1751 he re-entered Dublin. He might have succeeded in scoring a personal triumph if he had not brought his youngest son, Lord George Sackville, with him. Hitherto it had been Dorset's policy to let well alone--he did nothing particularly well, {158} and was popular on that account. Lord George Sackville, however, had neither the complacence nor the dignity of his father; he came as the viceroy's Secretary of State, his adviser, the man who saw that things were done.

One of his first acts was to quarrel with the Speaker of the Irish House of Commons. This was Henry Boyle, afterwards Earl of Shannon.

Boyle was an Irish Parliamentary Hampden, who jealously guarded the rights of his a.s.sembly and of the country. Harrington had left Parliament triumphant, and the House was not going to be brow-beaten by George Sackville.

[Sidenote: The struggle with Parliament]

The cause of the most important and vital dispute was a measure disposing of the surplus revenues of the country. Parliament declared that it could dispose of them without the sanction of the king; the viceroy, through his Secretary of State, declared otherwise, and when the House of Commons sent the bill for the viceroy's approval, he inserted a clause giving the king's permission to its establishment by law. The a.s.sembly ignored the clause, and proceeded to other business.

Sackville and George Stone, the Primate, were furious. They saw in this act of insubordination the terrible spectacle of a free Parliament sitting day after day and publicly criticizing the privileged cla.s.s--the officials. Acting under their advice, Dorset signed a warrant for the Speaker's arrest, and an attempt was made to execute it. But in order to get at the person of Boyle--who was the hero of the hour--the officers would have had to arrest half the population of Dublin. Thousands {159} of persons of all cla.s.ses followed the Speaker wherever he went, forming an unofficial bodyguard that soon so impressed Sackville that the warrant was withdrawn.

Meanwhile the dispute between Parliament and the viceroy formed the subject of all sorts and conditions of rumours. Once it was reported that the king had signed a decree abolis.h.i.+ng the Irish Parliament, and subst.i.tuting for it the attendance of so many Irish members in the English Parliament. There was no foundation for the rumour, but it was not an hour old before a vast mob surrounded Dublin Castle, shouting lurid threats against the person of the viceroy. One of the most popular theatres, owned by one of the most popular men--Sheridan, the father of the famous dramatist--was wrecked because the leading comedian would not repeat some lines which seemed to be slightly veiled, satirical references to the national dispute.

Boyle was now master of the situation, the real ruler of the country.

The persecution of the Government had, as it often has done before, raised a man of mediocre ability to the pedestal of genius.

Sensational rumours began to reach England and astound the frequenters of the clubs and the coffee-houses. It was reported that Dorset had been murdered and Boyle elected King of Ireland, and there were visions that seemed like stern realities of the end of the English robbing of the Irish till. The ministry became alarmed, and when the Government realized that Dorset was a menace to their authority in Dublin, {160} they decided to recall him, and appoint Lord Hartington in his place.

It is said that when Dorset heard of this he burst into tears, and it is, indeed, extraordinary the pa.s.sion this man had for the position of Viceroy of Ireland. He wrote letters to the king, humbly praying that he might be allowed to return to the Government of Ireland as soon as order was restored, but in the long run he had to feign contentment with the minor post of Master of the Horse.

{161}

CHAPTER X

Lord Hartington was the son of that Duke of Devons.h.i.+re who had been viceroy for seven years, and was only thirty-five when his commission was signed by the king. Hartington appears to have been a typical Cavendish; everybody trusted and admired him without forming too great an opinion of his abilities; but he was a safe man, and this attribute brought him the premiers.h.i.+p in November, 1756, when he was summoned from Dublin to take the control of the ministry. Pitt, it is interesting to note, served under him during his brief premiers.h.i.+p--it ended the following May--as Secretary of War.

In the reshuffling that followed, John Russell, fourth Duke of Bedford, was appointed to Ireland. His task was not a difficult one, because the complete surrender of the English Government was known in Dublin, and Bedford was regarded as a sort of peacemaker, prepared to accept any terms, provided he was allowed to style himself viceroy. The Lord-Lieutenant and his wife lived in Dublin Castle and entertained.

Hitherto great English ladies had been content to view Dublin from a distance, and were content to spend their husbands' earnings; but the d.u.c.h.ess of {162} Bedford had other ideals, and she did much to smooth her husband's path to power by her tact and graciousness. She threw open Dublin Castle to everybody, and showed by her own and her husband's attention to the social side of Dublin life that their last concern was with the political. The duke announced a great programme of reform, which was to be carried out quietly. He would not favour either political party in the State--there were now two parties, English and Irish--and he endorsed cordially the recommendation of the Parliament that these Englishmen who farmed out their appointments in Dublin for less than the salaries they received should be recalled, and if they did not obey, dismissed from office.

But it was the magnificent state they maintained in Dublin that won the allegiance of Ireland. Parasites feed even on imitation Courts, and increase and multiply, while the not less important parasites--the beggars of Dublin--were fed bountifully from the remains of Dives' many tables. The duke and d.u.c.h.ess spent more money in Ireland than they drew from it, and remembering this, no patriot, however fervid his imagination, could accuse the Lord-Lieutenant and his wife of robbing the State. When the potato crop failed in many countries, the duke started a fund for the relief of the sufferers, heading it with a large sum of money.

It was a prosperous and a successful viceroyalty from the personal point of view of the Duke of Bedford. He did not make the country any better or introduce any great social reforms, but {163} it was a relief to have a man who did not plunder the treasury to provide annuities for his poor relations, or satisfy the blackmailing propensities of his discarded mistresses. Bedford was popular, and the d.u.c.h.ess had Dublin society behind her to a woman.

The riots of 1759, created by the ever-prevalent rumour that the Irish Parliament was to be abolished and a union between the legislatures of the two countries accomplished, did not affect the viceroy's popularity. The truth of the matter was that Ireland was not proud of its Parliament, even with the history of Henry Boyle fresh in the minds of the people. The Parliament had been just as unscrupulous as the numerous decadent and dishonest viceroys who had plundered the country, but in the eyes of the nation the Parliament and the viceroyalty were one and the same, the outward and visible sign of Ireland's importance.

Society followed the lead of the viceroy with dumb obedience, and society feared that it might cease to exist if the Parliament were abolished. Those not in society were anxious to retain the Parliament because it meant prosperity of the capital. It was a question of money, and of the jealousy of the citizens of Dublin for the continued pre-eminence of their city.