The Viceroys of Ireland

CHAPTER XIV

The advocates of Catholic Emancipation could not be expected to be content with mere social pleasures, and the ministry decided to try a diplomat in the difficult post. The duke having resigned in 1813, Lord Whitworth, an experienced diplomatist and a strong anti-Catholic, took his place. The duke and duchess, after their experience of Brussels and Waterloo, consented to govern British North America, as Canada was then termed, and in 1819 the duke died of hydrophobia in the town of Richmond.

Students of Napoleonic history will be able to recall the early career of the man chosen to foil the attempts of the popular party to force their policy of Catholic Emancipation on the Government. Whitworth, who had been born without a title or great wealth, was a self-made man as far as it was possible for one who owed his opportunities to the generosity of well-disposed patrons. He was first a soldier, and then, through the influence of the Duke of Dorset, a diplomat, representing England in Poland, Russia, and France. As Ambassador in Paris he came into contact with Napoleon, and it was Whitworth who demanded his passports from the Corsican when the Peace of Amiens was broken and all Europe plunged into war.

Lord Whitworth was a man who took advantage of his opportunities, and from 1785 to 1803 fortune was very kind to him, but following his sudden withdrawal from Paris he seemed to lose his powers, and for ten years he chafed in obscurity. In 1801 he had married the widow of his first great patron, and the Duchess of Dorset, a woman whose egotism was matched by her greed, brought him a large fortune and some influence. This was increased by the marriage of her mother to Lord Liverpool, and when that nobleman had been at the head of the Government for about a year he succumbed to the importunities of his ambitious stepdaughter and appointed her husband to succeed the Duke of Richmond.

The haughty duchess

To a woman of the temperament that distinguished the Duchess of Dorset the acme of human bliss was the impersonation of royalty. She revelled in the rites attendant upon the state the viceroy maintained, and as the haughty duchess she was known throughout the country. Lord Whitworth, past sixty and somewhat bored, was a tool in the hands of his wife, who never forgot the fact that he was her late husband's protégé and, therefore, to some extent hers also. She personally supervised the list of those who had the entrée to the Castle, and her censorship of her predecessor's list caused a vast amount of ill-feeling. Wives of respectable professional men found themselves relegated to the position occupied by their prototypes fifty years before, while the intrepid duchess even attacked those who had married into plebeian families, and, therefore, forfeited her regard. It was due to her efforts that her relative, Lord Liverpool, conferred an earldom on Whitworth, though she retained her ducal title throughout her life.

The viceregal pair were not unpopular, but Whitworth was scarcely the man to understand Irish affairs. To a large extent the ruler of the country was Sir Robert Peel, the chief Secretary until 1818. The Duchess of Dorset did not always approve of Peel, but, recognizing that he saved her husband a considerable amount of work, she delegated the task of maintaining the usual official correspondence with the ministry in London to him. Peel was a strong—soon to become the strongest—opponent of the Catholic claims. The viceroy was of the same opinion on this important matter, and, backed by an enormous English army, they defied public opinion.

In the autumn of 1817 it was decided to replace Whitworth by Lord Talbot, and accordingly, on October 9, the new viceroy was sworn in, Peel taking a prominent part in the ceremony. Talbot and Whitworth were old friends, having first met during the latter's embassy in Russia, when the younger nobleman was an attaché in the diplomatic service, and he owed his selection to the good offices of the outgoing viceroy and his wife. That he was opposed to Catholic Emancipation was another point in his favour, while the Government were not unimpressed by the fact that Lady Talbot was an Irish lady, the daughter of a County Meath gentleman.

Visit of George IV.

Lord and Lady Talbot made a determined effort to win the good-will of the country. Daniel O'Connell's raging, tearing propaganda was disturbing, and ever threatened a revolution, but Talbot thought that by devoting some of his time to the patronage of agriculture he might gain more adherents to the Government's policy. The farmers were not ungrateful, but Lord Talbot must have realized before he was a year in the country that the solution of the Irish question was not so easy as he had thought it to be. Peel, summoned to London for more important duties, still maintained his opposition to O'Connell and the Catholic claims. Then, in 1821, the Cabinet had a brilliant idea which resolved itself into this—that all Irish problems should be solved by a State visit from George IV. Hitherto English kings had been accustomed to visit Ireland in the role of fugitives, but George IV. was to come as a great monarch, the first gentleman in Europe—and, as Thackeray had said, 'the biggest blackguard'—and Irish loyalty was to be aroused from its dormant condition.

The king carried out the plans laid down for him, and he had no cause to regret making the acquaintance of his Irish subjects. He scrutinized everything he saw in Ireland with the air and interest of a schoolboy visiting a waxworks show. English uniforms seemed to fascinate him when worn by Irish soldiers, and he hummed and hawed question after question from the beginning to the end of his visit.

'Who is that magnificent-looking officer?' he asked the viceroy, indicating the figure of Sir Philip Crampton, the celebrated surgeon.

'Oh, that is a general of the Lancers, sir,' was the witty reply, and the king passed on to something else.

The most humorous incident of his visit arose out of His Majesty's desire to witness some racing at the Curragh. In great state he travelled down, and every preparation was made to supply the royal visitor with a magnificent lunch. The pantries of Dublin and London were searched for dainties, and everything possible pressed into service.

It happened to be a very wet day, and the races did not prove very exciting, but the king chivalrously maintained his interest as long as he could. When he retired to his room, where gorgeous flunkeys of all ranks waited breathlessly for the king to name his refreshment, George IV. did not keep them long in doubt—he wanted a cup of tea.

A simple request, and one easily granted, for in the royal pavilion were the choicest teas, the finest sugar and cream, and, of course, plenty of hot water. Then someone called for a cup and saucer. Great consternation ensued when it was discovered that those simple requisites had been forgotten. There was absolutely nothing in which to serve the tea to the royal visitor!

With prayers that the king might not get impatient, a score of scouts were despatched to search the countryside for a cup and saucer, and one of them proved successful, finding in a poor peasant's ramshackle cabin a twopenny blue cup and saucer. They were hastily polished up, and with remarkable celerity the tea was served to the thirsty king.

One of the caterers afterwards visited the owner of the cup and saucer, and gave her a guinea for them. Needless to say, these precious articles were treasured by the caterer's family.

"A clod—a piece of orange-peel—
    An end of a cigar—
Once trod on by a princely heel,
    How beautiful they are!"

Lord Talbot, K.P.

He was received in Ireland with a courtesy that often swelled into enthusiasm, and Dublin, the centre of the local administration, went into ecstasies over the royal visitor. Lord Talbot was installed a Knight of St. Patrick amidst a splendour that contrasted with horrible distinctness with the terrible misery and poverty that prevailed in the very environs of Dublin Castle itself. The king must have seen the shadows of famine and desolation that lurked behind the gaudy trappings that did their best to make the city fit for a king, but he conveniently ignored them. Monarchs have only a distant acquaintance with human nature, and so King George, flattered by attentions denied him in London except by his satellites, left the country convinced that the demand for Catholic Emancipation was an artificial one created by O'Connell, and that in reality Ireland was a most contented and prosperous nation.

But the ills of humanity cannot be cured by a display of royal dignity, and Talbot discovered that pressing social evils could not be eradicated by the bestowal of ribbons and orders. It may have seemed unaccountable to him that when the country demanded bread it should be dissatisfied with the sight of the king. Lady Talbot was feeding with 'cake' the 'upper ten' of Dublin society, but Ireland was dissatisfied. The country was not progressing, the cities presented a squalid and lifeless appearance, and even Dublin, favoured by the being the residence of the well-paid official set and the home of the Government, scarcely looked the prosperous place it had been during the last quarter of the previous century.

Talbot advised stringent measures against O'Connell, but by now the ministry was beginning to feel doubtful of its ready-made Irish policy, and soon rumours reached Talbot that he was to be succeeded by the Marquis Wellesley, a great Irishman, and an avowed Emancipationist. The viceroy resigned at once and left Ireland. He died in 1849, five years after Peel had rewarded his Free Trade allegiance by giving him the garter.

Lord Wellesley

The Marquis Wellesley, an Emancipationist by conviction, was sent to Ireland with promises the ministry did not intend to fulfil. Peel, Goulburn, the Irish secretary, and the rest of his colleagues, were opposed to the granting of complete relief to the followers of the popular religion, and their selection of Lord Wellesley was merely an attempt to blind the eyes of the patriotic party. When in the last months of 1821 it was declared officially that Wellesley was to succeed Lord Talbot, the joy of the Catholics knew no bounds. To them the new viceroyalty promised a speedy attainment of all their hopes, for they knew that Wellesley was a strong man, and one likely to have his own way. Quite apart from political and sectarian reasons, Ireland welcomed Wellesley. He was an Irishman by birth, and although Harrow, Eton, and Oxford in turn educated him, he had learnt the rudiments of the three R's in the town of Trim. It was recalled that the Lord-Lieutenant in his younger days had been the friend of Henry Grattan, and as the result of thirty years' brilliant service on behalf of the Crown, no man—with the exception of his brother, the Duke of Wellington—commanded greater respect or admiration in the two kingdoms, while so far as Ireland was concerned, the marquis was vastly more popular than the duke, who had a constitutional objection to Catholicism in any form. For eight years Lord Wellesley had acted as Governor-General of India, and during the Peninsular War he was Ambassador to Spain—one brother conquering the French and the other reaping the not less important diplomatic victories, made possible by the great battles. From the foreign secretaryship under Percival Wellesley might have had the premiership, but his views on Ireland were unpopular, and his failure to form a ministry prepared the way for Lord Liverpool to assume the leadership for a period of nearly fifteen years. Despite his opinions, Wellesley could have had the viceroyalty of Ireland in 1812, but he declined it.

When a young man of twenty-four, Wellesley—then the Earl of Mornington—contracted an irregular alliance with a Parisian girl of remarkable beauty, Hyacinthe Gabrielle Roland, and for nine years they lived together. She bore him children, and they appear to have been happy. Wellesley, however, was growing in public importance, and it was represented to him privately that his domestic relations might interfere with his chances of promotion. To end an impossible situation, he married his mistress in 1793, and from the day of the marriage they seemed to lose their mutual affection. Gabrielle Roland was modest in her demands, and content to look after her children; as Countess of Mornington she pestered her husband to compel society to recognize her new status. He was helpless, of course, and quarrels ensued, but they lived together until 1797, when he was appointed Governor-General of India. At first Lady Mornington wished to accompany him, but he was able to persuade her to remain at home.

India at the time had a reputation for cruelty and treachery created by the episode of the Black Hole of Calcutta, and Lady Mornington, thinking doubtless of her children and not herself, consented to remain behind, and enjoy the generous allowance her husband proposed to make her. For the rest of her life—which lasted until 1816—husband and wife saw little of each other; she failed to provide him with a legitimate heir, and at the time it seemed likely that Lord Wellesley would be Prime Minister he lived alone in London. It was said that he refused the viceroyalty in 1812 because it would mean taking 'the Frenchwoman to Dublin,' though a close examination of the existing records points to the fact that Wellesley was unwilling to leave the centre of political interest at such a critical period in the history of England.

Lord-Lieutenant assaulted

The coming of Wellesley to Dublin Castle roused the enthusiasm of the Catholic party and the animosity of the governing minority. In 1822 a great public meeting voted an address of congratulation to the marquis, the motion being proposed by O'Connell and seconded by Richard Lalor Sheil. Meetings all over the country followed suit, and the squeakings of the Orange lodges were drowned in the popular welcome. There was a temporary lull in the formation of secret societies, and the Whiteboys, the Orangemen, the Ribbonmen, and other associations for doing evil by stealth, waited for a sign from the Lord-Lieutenant. He gave it by abolishing the annual Orange decoration of King William's statue, and instantly the Orangemen flew to 'arms.' Wellesley attended a gala performance at the theatre, and an infuriated Orangeman entered a practical protest by hurling a bottle at his head. It missed its mark by inches, and the culprit was arrested. The Grand Jury, unanimously anti-Catholic, threw out the bill, and the powerful minority followed up this blow by inspiring a debate in the House of Commons, in which a vote of censure on the Lord-Lieutenant was rejected with the utmost difficulty. It was only too evident that the Orangemen were determined to contest every inch of ground with the viceroy.

In 1824 Daniel O'Connell, realizing that the Lord-Lieutenant could not force the hand of his superiors in London, founded the Catholic Association, and it is no exaggeration to say that the people clamoured for admission to it. Every town and village throughout the country had its branch, and within twelve months it was the real authority in the land. The English Government was superseded, and O'Connell was the virtual ruler of Ireland. Wellesley, who did not approve of the aims and methods of the Association, was devoting his attention to the suppression of the secret societies, while the Cabinet in London wrote imploring him to deal effectively with O'Connell's society. But the marquis was helpless. There was no secrecy about the Catholic Association, and its objects were, academically speaking, lawful, and its methods legal. Further alarm was caused by the statement in some English papers that every Irish soldier was a member of the association. Wellesley was asked for his opinion—he repeated again and again that the only way to make the country peaceful was to grant Catholic Emancipation. Three Prime Ministers—Liverpool, Canning, and Goderich—in succession rejected the advice so disinterestedly given, and when a turn of Fortune's wheel placed the great Duke of Wellington in power, he intimated to his brother that as their views did not coincide, it would be better if the Marquis of Anglesey, an old friend of both, should replace him in the Government as Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. Lord Wellesley resigned without demur. He was well aware that they differed widely on many important topics, and Wellington had never forgotten that if Wellesley's views on foreign policy had prevailed, there would have been no Waterloo and less glory. In the House of Lords the marquis rose to denounce the Irish policy of his brother, but they never made the blunder of carrying their quarrel into private life. Lord Wellesley had in 1825 married an American lady, Mrs. Patterson of Baltimore, the grand-daughter of one of the signatories to the document that recorded the independence of the United States of America, and she brought him a happiness he had never known before. Witty, beautiful, and rich, the American marchioness held her own in London society, and Wellesley was content for her to remain out of political affairs, save when his seat in the House of Lords enabled him to speak against the Government. Lady Wellesley, who was a devout Catholic, was always escorted by a troop of dragoons to the Roman Catholic Provincial Cathedral in Marlborough Street, Dublin, when her husband was viceroy.

In the Lower House Sir Robert Peel, now Home Secretary, was affirming his unalterable determination never to surrender to the O'Connellites, and his leader was also giving a display of the Iron Will. But even Iron Dukes can unbend when they have been tempered by experience. It was the Wellington Ministry that granted Catholic Emancipation, and it was Sir Robert Peel who sounded the note of surrender. The collapse was caused by the historic Clare election of 1828, within a few months of the appointment of Lord Anglesey.

There was, of course, considerable humour, intentional and otherwise, introduced during the agitation for and against Catholic Emancipation. Once King George IV. was heard to murmur plaintively:

'Wellington is King of England, O'Connell is King of Ireland, and I am supposed to be the Dean of Windsor.'

Lord Eldon presented to the House of Lords a petition of the tailors of Glasgow against the surrender to the Catholics.

'What?' exclaimed Lord Lyndhurst, 'do tailors bother themselves about such measures?'

'No wonder,' answered Eldon; 'you cannot suppose that tailors would like turncoats.'

CHAPTER XV

Wellington's premiership was four days old when Lord Anglesey accepted the viceroyalty. The duke evidently selected his Waterloo comrade without taking the trouble to sound him upon the views he held, but George IV.—that fine champion of Protestantism!—immediately sent for the marquis, and in a touching interview implored him to keep the Catholics at bay, emphasizing his belief that the surrender of the Government to O'Connell would mean the dismemberment and destruction of the British Empire. Anglesey, who knew nothing whatever about anything except women and war, sought refuge in meaningless platitudes. He declared to the king that he intended to take no part in sectarian or political strife in Ireland; he would administer the law equally to all, and so forth, impressing George IV. with a sense of his extreme propriety and impartiality.

On January 29, 1828, Lord Anglesey became Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. He was in his sixtieth year, and could look back with some pride on a long and busy life. He had fought with Moore at Corunna, and at Waterloo was Wellington's commander of cavalry. These were landmarks in his life, and even his unfortunate relations with the wife of his friend's brother did not create any ill-feeling between Anglesey and Wellington. The Iron Duke had a great affection for his relations, and he often expressed his gratification at the remarkable successes achieved by his brothers, the Marquis Wellesley and Lord Cowley. Politically the Wellesleys were always at enmity, and in addition they were handicapped by inheriting from their mother some of her severe manner and not a little of her pride. It is remarkable that the three brothers should each have had marital troubles. The Duke of Wellington's marriage, begun as a romance, ended as a tragi-comedy; Lord Wellesley's went the same way, and he was burdened for years by a wife with whom he could not live; while Lord Cowley was compelled to seek a divorce.

It was five years before Waterloo that society was startled by the news that Lord Cowley had presented a Bill to Parliament, praying to be divorced from his wife, a daughter of Lord Cadogan. The Marquis of Anglesey, then known as the Earl of Uxbridge, was cited as the co-respondent, and as Lord Uxbridge was a married man with eight children, and, of course, an intimate friend of the Wellesley family, London discussed nothing else. The affair was robbed of a great deal of publicity by the influence of the two families concerned, but Lady Uxbridge was not to be placated, and she divorced her husband. Then Lord Cowley was awarded damages to the extent of £24,000 against the earl, and the complicated affair was simplified by the Earl of Uxbridge marrying Lady Cowley.

The Duke of Wellington was too fond of a good soldier to permit a mere family matter to stand in the way of Lord Uxbridge's prospects. He took him to Waterloo, and if the earl lost a leg in that famous battle, he gained a marquisate, bestowed within less than three weeks of June 18, 1815. Promotion in the service followed, and owing to Wellington's influence it was rapid and remunerative.

The appointment to Ireland was his patron's greatest gift. It seemed only too obvious that a soldier at the head of affairs would be very necessary, for it was accepted as truth in ministerial circles that the entire Catholic priesthood of Ireland was engaged in a campaign for converting the Irish soldiers in the English army to the political principles of the Catholic Association.

The Clare election

When the Iron Duke formed a Government, the Catholic Association passed a resolution declaring that it would oppose the election of any Irish member who took office under the new premier. Undisturbed by this, the member for Clare, Mr. Fitzgerald, accepted the post of President of the Board of Trade, and then O'Connell announced that he would be the nominee of the Association, and would contest the seat. This created a veritable sensation. The eyes of the world were centred on Clare, and Lord Anglesey sent an army of occupation to take possession of it. On the polling days there were about five soldiers for every voter, and the Catholic Association received an advertisement that made the world understand the seriousness of its principles. No single election has ever had the effect produced by the election of Daniel O'Connell to represent Clare at Westminster. A month before the result Sir Robert Peel declared that he would die politically rather than give way: the returns from Clare were still being discussed when the same man started to draft the Bill he introduced into the House of Commons in February, 1829, a measure which completely emancipated the Roman Catholics. The posts of Regent, of Lord Chancellor, and of Irish Viceroy were the only ones Catholics could not hold. The Catholic Association had justified its existence.

Meanwhile Lord Anglesey's position was not without interest. He was very unpopular with the patriotic party, and the fact that George IV. was annoyed with him tended to increase further his popularity. Anglesey learned many things during his first six months in England, and he became an emancipationist while Peel was still defiant. The Duke of Wellington was exasperated when Anglesey nullified his advice to Catholics to substitute patience for agitation by advising them to agitate until they obtained their demands. The duke wrote curt letters, and Anglesey answered in a similar strain. He was not fond of Dublin or Dublin society, and Irish affairs began to bore him. The most interesting men were in his opinion the members of the Catholic Association, and he dare not be seen with them, while he knew, as every other viceroy had known, that to withhold complete emancipation was the worst service the English ministry could do the country. The Prime Minister, with the help of the king, compelled Anglesey to send in his resignation, and the vacancy was given at once to Hugh Percy, third Duke of Northumberland, Greville's 'prodigious bore,' and almost the wealthiest nobleman in England. He accepted with the proviso that he was not to hold the post for more than eighteen months, while he advised the Government to reduce the viceroy's salary by £10,000—it then stood at £20,000 a year. The latter piece of advice was not accepted, because the Government realized that there would be future viceroys without the wealth of the newer Percys.

The Tithe War

The Duke and Duchess of Northumberland gave a great display of their wealth in Dublin, and once more the official party revelled in feastings, balls, and flamboyant levées and drawing-rooms. Some serious work was attempted, and in April, 1830, a proclamation was issued suppressing the Catholic Association. Agitation feeds on agitation, and O'Connell's league had replaced Emancipation by Repeal. He was demanding the severance of the Union between the two countries, and Northumberland determined on a vigorous campaign against the agitator. The Tithe War—arising out of the refusal of the Catholic peasantry to pay tribute to the ministers of an alien Church—had begun, and fierce encounters between the military and the country people were everyday occurrences. Northumberland had a large army at his disposal, and the Cabinet advised him to make full use of it, but realizing the temper of the country better than his superiors, he declared that O'Connell's agitation for Repeal could be rendered abortive by reason, and not by force. Despite the friction with his official chiefs in London, Northumberland would have remained in Dublin had not the Tory ministry been replaced by Lord Grey's administration. The Duke and Duchess of Northumberland—the latter best known as one of the late Queen Victoria's governesses—left the country with the knowledge that they had been as successful as any viceregal pair before them. Sir Robert Peel described him as the very best governor of Ireland, and Wellington, never an easy man to please, growled out some compliments when he met the duke at a dinner-party. Lord Anglesey's second viceroyalty began in December, 1830, and ended in September, 1833. He had been popular during his brief reign of 1828-29, but he discovered speedily that patriots are susceptible, and the viceroy who earned popularity as an emancipationist in 1828 was disliked and distrusted by the O'Connellites, because he would not follow their lead and become equally as enthusiastic for Repeal. Daniel O'Connell derided the viceroy in almost every speech made, and no epithet was too strong to be applied to Lord Anglesey. O'Connell publicly prayed for his removal, and the viceroy, out of sympathy with all parties, lingered on at Dublin Castle, worried by the popularity of the Repealer, and disturbed by the havoc the Tithe War was playing with the progress of the country.

The famous Doon auction

The history of the Tithe War has been told many times, and there is no room for it here, but it possessed so much comedy and tragedy that some of its incidents may be recalled. When the peasantry tried passive resistance, their activities were aroused by the arrival of soldiers to take their goods and sell them by public auction. In one battle twelve peasants were killed and twenty wounded; in another there were heavy casualties on both sides; and there were other affrays with equally deadly results. A touch of humour was provided by the inhabitants of Doon, a Limerick town which, in the early thirties of the last century, contained a population of about 5,000 Roman Catholics and a single Protestant. In due course, the Protestant clergyman demanded tithes from the priest, which the latter promptly refused to pay. With the aid of the law, the priest's cow was seized, and elaborate preparations made for its sale by public auction. The authorities at Dublin Castle were consulted, and a long correspondence dealing with the cow ensued; there was much advising and consultation; the viceroy discussed it in secret and laughed at it during dinner; the Commander-in-Chief of the forces was asked for his help, and he signed an order for the attendance of a small army at the forthcoming auction. Meanwhile the cow, unmindful of its prominence and glory, browsed on contentedly until the time came when it was led into the field by its crown keeper and escorted by a force of police. On the field of auction, besides the police were a troop of the 12th Lancers, five companies of the 92nd Highlanders, and two pieces of artillery. The auctioneer stood in the midst of an arsenal surrounded by the army. Bids for the historic cow were invited; threats and jokes were all he got from the peasantry, and the proceedings finally left the Government in possession of the cow, no one having the courage to buy it. This auction was one of many. Cows and pigs, escorted by several hundred soldiers, became part of the pageantry of the country; officers and men were recalled from leave of absence to take their part in tending cattle captured from rebellious villagers. No Government could maintain its dignity, and ridicule nullified the dearly bought victories in the field. The net result was that the Government collected £12,000 at a cost of £27,000 and hundreds of lives, and £48,000 still due for tithes.

Lord Anglesey saw nothing of the Tithe War, but from Dublin Castle he superintended the operations against the peasantry. The Government regarded the objection to tithe-paying as one of O'Connell's devices for rousing the masses against England, and although the ministry was compelled to abolish the tithes, the victory of the peasants was more apparent than real, because the Tithe Commutation Act of 1838 placed the onus of collecting the dues on the landlord, who, of course, added the amount to the rent he levied on his tenants' holdings.

Between July, 1834, and April, 1835, there were three ministries, two Melbourne administrations being interrupted by Sir Robert Peel's first and brief government. Lord Wellesley's second viceroyalty lasted a few months—from September, 1833, to April, 1834—and although in 1835 he intimated to Lord Melbourne that he would not be averse to a third term, the premier appointed Lord Mulgrave, and Wellesley had to be content with the gilded post of Lord Chamberlain. The Marquis Wellesley lived until 1842.

The viceroyalty of the Earl of Haddington was as colourless as it was brief. He had been in Parliament some years before he was given a peerage, and succeeding to the earldom shortly afterwards, passed into an obscurity from which he never emerged, even when Peel, on December 29, 1834, made him Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. That ministry resigned in the April following, and Lord Melbourne formed his second Cabinet, sending Lord Mulgrave to Ireland.

The Irish party in Parliament

The return to power of Lord Melbourne marked a new epoch in the history of the British Parliament. For the first time English statesmen realized that the Irish vote could be capable of controlling the destinies of an English party. Hitherto the Irish members had been regarded as of no account; ever since the Union one or other of the great parties had been able to act independently of the Irish members, but the kaleidoscopic ministerial changes that had taken place since the termination of Lord Liverpool's record premiership had gradually given the Irish members the balance of power between the two parties. In eight years seven distinct Cabinets were formed, and when the seventh, Lord Melbourne's, received their seals from William IV., they knew as well as O'Connell himself that their existence depended upon the Irish vote.

It was only natural that O'Connell and his followers were delighted. They foresaw the time when England would tire of the domination of the Irish minority in Parliament, and would gladly send them back to College Green, and so certain were they of this that O'Connell agreed to suspend his demand for the repeal of the Union, and give Melbourne and his colleagues an opportunity of doing something great for Ireland. It was a strong Government and rich in statesmen. Lord John Russell was Home Secretary, and Palmerston was Foreign Secretary. The Cabinet had many long and anxious consultations on Irish affairs, and the ministers did their best to keep their bargain with O'Connell. The House of Lords, however, blocked the way, and the Melbourne Government fell in the autumn of 1841.

When Lord Mulgrave was appointed Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in 1835, he was regarded as the best man for the position. O'Connell expressed public approval of him, and the numerous religious and political associations added their testimonials. The Irish leader's compact with the ministry was well known, and although Lord Mulgrave was regarded as O'Connell's puppet, he was not without opinions of his own. Lord Anglesey had expressed the opinion that O'Connell was the real ruler of Ireland, and Mulgrave, in showing his sympathy with the Catholics, became as popular with the majority as he was unpopular with the powerful Protestant minority. He was considered to have the best opportunity to bring peace to Ireland, and English Liberal members of Parliament, in their enthusiasm for their leader, Lord Melbourne, were continually pointing out how peaceful Ireland had become under a Whig administration. When a constable in the county of Clare appealed to Dublin Castle to remove him to the metropolis because the country had become so quiet that he had no chance of gaining promotion or distinguishing himself, the Whig Press and politicians went wild with delight. The enterprising constable was written about in scores of pamphlets, and three-fourths of England got the impression—and retained it for many years, too!—that Ireland was most law-abiding, as well as one of the most prosperous countries in the world.

William IV. and Lord Mulgrave

The fatal weakness of Lord Mulgrave was his partisanship. He could look at nothing except through the spectacles of well-grounded opinions of his own. At a time when he should have exercised discretion, he rushed into the arms of the Catholic party, and thereby mortally offended the Orangemen and their not-to-be-despised co-religionists. The result was that at a Protestant meeting the mention of the viceroy's name was sufficient to fill the building with cries of derision, while at a gathering of the Catholics Lord Mulgrave was cheered to the echo. It was an undignified reputation for a man supposed to hold the scales of justice evenly, and William IV. protested to Melbourne about the conduct of his viceroy.

An examination of the crime returns of the period shows that the compact between O'Connell and Lord Melbourne caused no appreciative diminution of violence in the country. Protestants declared that Lord Mulgrave was encouraging political criminals by his leniency, the culmination of which was his decision in the case of the brutal murder of the second Earl of Norbury. The earl was the younger son of the notorious Chief Justice Toler, who had received honours from a grateful government because of his anti-Irish and anti-Catholic policy. On his deathbed Toler, hearing that his neighbour, Lord Erne, was also dying, sent a servant to assure his lordship that it would be a dead heat between them! The anecdote is characteristic of the man and his times, but his children were of a different calibre. The elder son died a lunatic, and the second was murdered because he evicted one of his tenants, a rogue who objected to paying rent. The country cried out for the severe punishment of the murderers, but the viceroy more than tempered justice with mercy, and every landowner instantly became alarmed. If murderers were permitted to escape the hangman because a Whig viceroy was at Dublin Castle, then assuredly no Tory landlord was safe. Private and public appeals were made to the king and Lord Melbourne. The premier was compelled to 'promote' him, and in 1839, shortly after he had been created Marquis of Normanby, the viceroy resigned in order to take up the post of Secretary for the Colonies.

Lord Normanby's subsequent career was quite in keeping with his conduct in Ireland. No matter in what capacity he acted, he always took sides, and during his diplomatic career, the Foreign Office experienced too much Normanby for its liking. His wife was one of the two women of the bedchamber to Queen Victoria to whom Peel objected when called upon to form a Government in 1841. Normanby had been asked to take charge of affairs, but there were not half a dozen men willing to serve under him, and he soon abandoned his attempt to become Prime Minister. Thenceforward his public life was spent abroad in the diplomatic service, and a list of his diplomatic indiscretions would fill a volume. From 1846 to 1852 he was Ambassador at Paris, and Palmerston's sudden recognition of Louis Napoleon exasperated him to an extent that he never forgot. Normanby was not the man for Paris, and when given a chance to represent the English nation at the Court of Tuscany in Florence, his partisanship, when he ought to have been neutral, was such that Lord Malmesbury had to recall him by telegraph! He returned to England, and until his death in 1863, at the age of sixty-six, he acted with the Tories against the Whigs. His conduct was due entirely to his personal detestation of Lord Palmerston. He was not in sympathy with a single act of the Whig, or Liberal, party, but he exerted himself to thwart Palmerston. He shed tears when 'Pam' became premier for the second time, and he died while the Liberal statesman was half-way through his historic ministry.

CHAPTER XVI

The Melbourne Government had two years to run when Lord Normanby left Ireland, and they were represented for that period at Dublin by Hugh Fortescue, Viscount Ebrington, and afterwards Earl Fortescue. The O'Connell party welcomed Lord Ebrington as they would have welcomed anybody commissioned by Lord Melbourne, and although they had been disappointed by the barren results of the treaty so far, they hoped for the best. The Repealer, realizing slowly, perhaps, that he was going to experience a bitter disappointment, was anxious to raise the standard of revolt, but he was advised by friends of the ministry to wait. They prevailed upon him to give them another chance.

Encouraging Irish trade

The accession to power of Sir Robert Peel dispelled O'Connell's sanguine hopes. It was true that the premier had twelve years previously conceded the claims of the Catholic party, but it was known that he would have none of the cry for Repeal, and that he would appoint a Lord-Lieutenant of his own stamp. It is singular, indeed, how devotedly O'Connell admired the office of the viceroy. To him it seemed to represent Ireland's scrap of royalty, and in the imitation courts of Dublin Castle and the Viceregal Lodge he saw something of regal independence for the country. He was always opposed to the abolition of the post, and during the Melbourne administration was continually suggesting to the premier the names of noblemen likely to make efficient viceroys. When Lord Normanby retired, he promptly counselled Melbourne to send Lord Clarendon over, but the commission was given to Lord Ebrington, and this nobleman's compulsory resignation let in Earl de Grey, who governed Ireland from September, 1841, to July, 1844. He was sixty years of age, wealthy, and popular, married to an Irish lady of great charm, when he was selected by Sir Robert Peel; and with a callous indifference to O'Connell's disapproval he came to Ireland, and with the help of his wife won the respect of all classes. Lady de Grey was a daughter of the first Earl of Enniskillen, and was three years her husband's junior, whom she had married in 1805. While the Lord-Lieutenant entertained Dublin society, and spent thousands of pounds to the benefit of the country, Lady de Grey bore her part well, though she showed at times that she did not regard herself as a hostess only. She realized that the country could do with more trade and less agitation, and without recourse to political means she set herself the task of helping the manufacturers of Ireland. Habitués of Dublin Castle and the Viceregal Lodge entertainments soon heard that they could not please her Excellency better than by patronizing Irish industries, and if the ladies were still compelled to buy their dresses in London and Paris, they were induced to patronize the Irish dressmakers for their less expensive gowns.

It was not, of course, the most auspicious time for a genuine attempt to do something practical towards the social salvation of Ireland. Crime was rife; agitation was rampant; patriotism rioting deliriously. Many districts became acquainted with famine, but if food was short orators were plentiful. De Grey had plenty of work to do, and it was he who initiated the proceedings that led to the arrest of Daniel O'Connell and some of his friends in the autumn of 1843. The Government took advantage of a public meeting of the agitators to apprehend them for conspiracy, and eventually O'Connell and his associates were placed on trial, found guilty by a packed jury, and subsequently 'imprisoned' in an old-fashioned country house, where they passed their time amidst a quiet that must have been to them a luxury. They were allowed to have their own servants and whatever food they wished, and never were prisoners more free than during the three months that elapsed between the conviction and sentence by the Lord Chief Justice of Ireland, and the reversal of the verdict by the House of Lords. That memorable trial gave William Smith O'Brien his opportunity, for O'Brien became automatically the leader of the Repeal movement when O'Connell was in 'prison.'

The decline of O'Connell

Between the first and second trials Lord de Grey left Ireland, and was succeeded by Lord Heytesbury, who remained until 1846. Born in 1779, William a'Court, first Baron Heytesbury, was educated at Eton, and spent many years in the diplomatic service, holding the important position of Ambassador to the courts of Portugal and Russia. In 1808 he married a grand-daughter of the Earl of Radnor, and twenty years later his diplomatic services were rewarded by the bestowal of a peerage. Peel always had a high opinion of Heytesbury, and only his resignation in 1835 prevented him making the ex-ambassador Governor-General of India. On the resignation of Earl de Grey, Peel invited Heytesbury to go to Ireland, and the invitation was accepted. He was able to regard with indifference the censure of the Law Lords on the conduct of the Dublin Government in the matter of Daniel O'Connell's trial. He could easily dissociate himself from the faults of the preceding régime. The abandonment of the cry for Repeal by O'Connell lessened the anxieties of Heytesbury, but there were the usual economic problems to be dealt with, and from all over the country reports came of the terrible distress and poverty prevailing. The Lord-Lieutenant did his best, and much money was spent in a vain attempt to ameliorate the conditions of peasant life. By the close of Lord Heytesbury's brief reign, however, ominous clouds were rising on the political horizon. Daniel O'Connell, tamed by age and experience, was by no means the raging propagandist of the twenties and thirties; he was ever counselling his fiery followers to concentrate their attention on the reform of the English Parliament, but his adherents demanded Repeal, and when he disagreed, they passed on, despising the leader who refused to lead. William Smith O'Brien was now the temporary hero, and he was fascinating the rank and file of agitators by his aristocratic manner and superficial unselfishness. Here was a man—not one of themselves—who stood to lose everything and gain nothing by his association with a cause that was supposed to be the religion of the lower-class Irish and the scarcely superior patriotic attorneys and doctors. William Smith O'Brien was a gentleman and a patriot! The country gasped, and followed him, leaving Daniel O'Connell to realize that every generation produces its heroes and geniuses, and will not tolerate the rivalry of the aged, however eminent.

An Irish Lord-Lieutenant

Lord John Russell began his first ministry on July 6th, 1846. His Cabinet was a strong one, and his prospects were bright save on the omni-present Irish question. O'Connell was certainly a spent force, but a new race of agitators had arisen, and the principles of '98 were as strong as ever nearly fifty years later. The premier, however, had some knowledge of Ireland. As a boy he had played in the heavy rooms of Dublin Castle, and as Home Secretary he had studied Irish affairs besides administering them. He was well aware that the chief defect of many viceroys was their inability to understand the national character, and he therefore came to the conclusion that if a resident Irish landlord should be appointed Lord-Lieutenant, something would be done at any rate to popularize the executive government in Dublin. Happily for Russell, there was the man for his purpose in the ranks of his followers. John William Ponsonby, fourth Earl of Bessborough, was a popular Irishman, a large landowner, and possessing considerable influence in his own country. This had been proved by the Kilkenny election of 1826, when he was returned to Parliament despite the most energetic opposition of O'Connell.

Five years later, when the agitator's position and power were almost impregnable, he retained his seat with a majority of sixty-five, thanks to the support of the most famous of Irish Roman Catholic Bishops, Dr. Doyle. Retiring from Kilkenny, he represented Nottingham in the Commons until in 1834, after twenty-nine years of Parliamentary life, he was created a peer in his own right, and took his seat in the House of Lords as Lord Duncannon. In 1834 he was Home Secretary, and from 1835 to 1839 was Lord Privy Seal. Two years after, succeeding to the earldom, he was appointed Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland immediately upon Lord John Russell's formation of a Government. Between the date of the Kilkenny election and his accession to the House of Lords, one of the most important events in his life was his friendship with O'Connell. Once his bitterest enemy, the agitator became almost an intimate friend, and Russell's selection of Bessborough for the viceroyalty was a direct attempt to please the popular party. Unfortunately for the designs of the premier, the appointment came too late. There were new 'shepherds in Israel,' and O'Connell no longer led the Repealers or guided them in their councils. Of course, in official circles Lord and Lady Bessborough were successful enough. Lady Bessborough was a daughter of that Earl of Westmoreland who had been Viceroy of Ireland from 1790 to 1795, and her Excellency was like an old friend returning. But their stay in Dublin was destined to be very brief, and just when it appeared that the viceroy was to be overwhelmed by the enormous amount of work created by the followers of O'Brien, his Excellency died suddenly in Dublin Castle on May 16, 1847—a tragedy which, amongst other things, meant that the stormiest viceroyalty in the history of the country should be that of Lord Clarendon. Lord Bessborough was sixty-six, and his death was regretted by everybody. Those who had the welfare of the country at heart had been hoping that, with an Irishman and a resident landlord at the head of the Irish executive, peace might come to the nation, were left to seek consolations in speculations on the 'might-have-been,' while the party of revolution were relieved of the embarrassment of rebelling against the Government represented by a man against whom no charge of self-interest or lack of patriotism could be hurled.