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 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 entrée to the nobility and gentry. The good-natured Lady Chesterfield, during her occasional appearances in Dublin, gained a sort of popularity, more pronounced among the trading classes, whom she benefited by giving splendid balls 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.

Chesterfield and Miss Ambrose

To Eleanor Ambrose he paid great attention, 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 balls 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.

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 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 masses, 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 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 class. 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 classes of Irishmen.

'We have more clever men here in a nutshell,' 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 attitude towards the members of both houses.

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 unfashionable part of Dublin, but being old enough to attend the viceregal functions of 1748, 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 Duchess 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 levée 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 in no two minds about its attitude 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 God 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.

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 debauchées 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 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 petition 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 fashionable 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 scrapes 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 passion 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 circumstances 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, 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 assembly and of the country. Harrington had left Parliament triumphant, and the House was not going to be brow-beaten by George Sackville.

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 assembly 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 class—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 of persons of all classes 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 abolishing the Irish Parliament, and substituting 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, 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 passion 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.

CHAPTER X

Lord Hartington was the son of that Duke of Devonshire 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 premiership 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 premiership—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 Duchess of 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 duchess 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 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 duchess 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.

The Earl of Halifax

To the regret of nearly everybody, Bedford resigned the viceroyalty in March, 1761, and George Montague Dunk, second Earl of Halifax, took over the duties and emoluments of the high office. Halifax, Nova Scotia, commemorates the name of this nobleman, who was given the title of 'Father of the Colonies' for his encouragement of colonial enterprise. He was popular enough in Ireland, but he lacked the social brilliance that distinguished the previous occupants of Dublin Castle.

Lord Halifax's career was one unbroken record of personal success. Born in 1716, and educated at Eton and Trinity College, Cambridge, he affected a learning many of his contemporaries despised. But Halifax had to make his own way, for the family was poor, and only in political advancement and a fortunate marriage did the prospect of fortune lie. His marriage brought him the immense sum, for those days, of over £100,000, and in carrying off the wealthy heiress of the house of Dunk he accomplished something several rivals failed in. Halifax was impecunious and pressed by creditors when he made the acquaintance of Miss Dunk, and she was by no means loath to become Countess of Halifax. A difficulty stood in the way, however, and that was the clause in the will bequeathing her her fortune which stated that she would be disinherited if she did not marry someone engaged in commercial pursuits. For some time there seemed to be no way out of the difficulty—George Montague was not a commercial man; but at last some genius suggested that the earl should join one of the London trading companies. This he did, and won the hand of the lady, paying her the compliment of adopting the name of Dunk, and conveniently hiding it under his title. It was a marriage of convenience that developed into love on both sides, and when the countess died, leaving two children, Halifax was greatly grieved.

In 1761, after thirteen years as President of the Board of Trade, he was astonished to find himself appointed Viceroy of Ireland. He had not been a candidate for the post, but he accepted it with alacrity, for by now the fortune of his late wife was almost gone, and the Board of Trade was not remunerative enough. The salary of the viceroy was £12,000 a year, and there were many perquisites.

Mary Ann Faulkner

The newcomer was at the time of his elevation under the influence of a strong-minded woman, Mary Ann Faulkner, the adopted daughter of the well-known Dublin bookseller. Halifax had found her starving in London, and, touched by a pathetic story of an early marriage and desertion by the husband, he made her the governess of his two children. This position she vacated to become his mistress, and when Halifax told her that he had been given the high office of Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, she coolly informed him that she intended to go to Dublin with him.

The woman's position in Dublin was not without its humorous side. The viceroy was under her thumb, and the mistress governed him with all the jealous watchfulness of a shrewish wife. She could not, of course, maintain her state in Dublin Castle, but she resided within a convenient distance of it, and by sheer force of personality the old Dublin bookseller's daughter gathered about her a large and influential court. Halifax was by disposition a spendthrift, but Mary Faulkner was a miser. She saved every penny, and nothing passed through her hands without leaving a profit in them. Practically every post in the gift of the viceroy was auctioned by Mary Faulkner, who kept the proceeds, and every day in the week her house was crowded with all sorts and conditions of place-seekers endeavouring to come to terms with the most unscrupulous placemonger that ever lived in Dublin. Here was a clergyman offering to buy the vacant country deanery; there an officer anxious for a sinecure in Dublin Castle; again, a lawyer desirous of an official position in the law courts, or a doctor seeking the patronage of those in high places. Mary Ann Faulkner saw them all, and conducted her auctions with no attempt at privacy. When it was generally known that the viceroy's mistress was the real power behind the viceregal throne, Halifax found his levées deserted, and perhaps he was not sorry. He never disguised his admiration for the enterprising Mary Ann, and if her position was something unconventional, there can be no doubt of the fact that she held the unique record of being the only woman who has directed and controlled the policy of a Viceroy of Ireland. And this without the public status or private authority of a wife!

The viceroy endeavoured to please everybody, and he earned general favour by melodramatically declining to accept for himself an increase of £4,000 a year in the salary of the Lord-Lieutenant. It fell to his lot to endorse the action of Parliament in raising the salary of the post to a higher figure, but, anxious to prove his probity, he took up a quixotic position—as it was, of course, regarded.

Two of his retinue are remembered for different reasons. One was his Secretary of State, 'Single-Speech Hamilton,' and the other, Richard Cumberland, the dramatist. The latter was a particular friend of Halifax's, their friendship dating back from the viceroy's Cambridge days, and continuing through his official life. He gave Cumberland a position at the Board of Trade, and, secured by this kindly act, Cumberland was able to indulge in his fancy for playwriting. He did not approve of Mary Ann Faulkner, but as that lady was irresistible, he wisely decided not to provoke a conflict, and he was seen at her receptions, and even helped her occasionally in her appointments.

Halifax left Ireland in 1763, popular and respected, and George III. gave him the garter. When in England he attempted to break away from his mistress by entering into an engagement to marry a wealthy woman, but Mary Ann soundly rated him when she heard of it, and he meekly broke the engagement to please her. This was the man who had ruled Ireland!

A great Smithson

As the result of royal favour the vacant viceroyalty was secured by Hugh Percy, Earl of Northumberland, later to become the first duke of the third creation. Northumberland was a great Smithson, but an indifferent Percy, and it was only his wife's name and family that carried him into London society and into the presence of George III. A man of vast wealth, and wedded to a woman with a passion for power, the viceroyalty of Ireland was the position they both craved for, and when powerful friends helped the Earl and Countess of Northumberland towards their goal, they entered with zest and enthusiasm into the task of governing Ireland. Lady Northumberland was a lady of the bedchamber to the queen soon after her marriage, an appointment maliciously described by Lady Townshend as due to the fact that the queen, who was ignorant of the English language, was anxious to learn the vulgar tongue, Lady Northumberland, she declared, being the most suitable person in the circumstances.

During their two years' reign in Dublin Castle the viceroy and his wife entertained on a regal scale. Their position had been a doubtful one in London, where society found it difficult to forget the old Smithson in the new Percy, but in Dublin the earl and countess led society without fear of any rivals. The countess, more ambitious than proud, utilized her wealth to maintain her supremacy. Dublin Castle was almost daily the scene of a great party, command performances at the theatres very common, and altogether the easily purchased homage of the people was accepted greedily, and created a growing appetite for more. Then in 1765 Lord Northumberland was abruptly dismissed from office, and the Earl of Hertford appointed. Returning to London in a passion, Northumberland sought out the king and his ministers, demanding an explanation. The 'explanation' took the shape of a dukedom, and both husband and wife were content.

Lord Hertford soon tired of Dublin, and his wife induced him to seek an early release from his distasteful task, and the home Government sent Lord Townshend to replace him.

A new era

The appointment of George, first Marquis Townshend, to the viceroyalty marked a new era in Irish history. Ever since the days of the Duke of Dorset's first term of office Dublin had been progressing. The Irish Parliament, though for the most part consisting of 'provincial imbeciles,' to use Chesterfield's words, was gradually attracting to it some of the most gifted Irishmen, and London, which affected to despise it, was perturbed by the reports coming from the Irish capital. One viceroy expressed his amazement at the wealth of genius in Dublin; another confirmed it. To convince the world, a great race of Irishmen was arising. Edmund Burke was a power in London; Grattan, a young man, was renowned in his own circles in Dublin; Henry Flood, in the Irish House of Commons, was winning his reputation for eloquence; and a few years later Richard Brinsley Sheridan was to gain fresh laurels for the name of Irishman. Goldsmith was at his zenith when Townshend came to Ireland in 1767. Others whose names are now forgotten achieved the not-to-be-despised if brief fame that talent is proud of and genius despises. Dublin was quickly losing its mean appearance. An orgy of building had transformed the districts now known as Grafton Street, Sackville Street, Merrion Square, and St. Stephen's Green. In Dame Street Trinity College and the Irish Houses of Parliament, the latter having been built in 1729 on the site of Chichester House, gave the thoroughfare an imposing appearance.

But the most important change lay in the people themselves. The English influence was, of course, paramount, and those who wished to be considered fashionable aped London manners, but slowly and surely there was an awakening of the national spirit; the so-called English colony was beginning to realize the danger of allowing themselves to be subject to the caprices of a Government in London ignorant of Irish affairs. They clamoured for legislative independence, and if their motives were purely selfish and local, yet on the whole they benefited Ireland. Irish trade was being handicapped by English ministers anxious to gain the suffrages of the great trading towns of Bristol and London, and they attempted to impose restrictions on Ireland through the medium of the Dublin Parliament. But the descendants of the Elizabethan and Cromwellian 'undertakers' would have none of it. Their idea was that all Irish affairs should be under the control of the Irish Parliament because they were the Parliament.

The eloquence and statesmanship of Grattan and his great contemporaries has gained a not undeserved fame for the Irish Parliament as it existed from 1760 to the Union, but in the fullest meaning of the word it was never a Parliament, even in the sense that the mother of Parliaments in London was falsely supposed to represent England. The majority of the Irish members were party hacks returned in their master's interests to vote without conscience. Religion entered into everything, but in the sixties of the eighteenth century the problem that confronted the English ministry was the position of the 'undertakers.' The latter were now the paramount power in Ireland; they formed the ascendancy, and from their ranks came all the high officers of state and the men who carried out the policy of England. But time taught its lessons, and the Anglo-Irish ignored London—even defied it—and when in 1767 Lord Townshend was sent to Dublin, it was with the undisguised object of crushing the 'undertakers' and regaining for England the chief authority in Ireland. For the first time in the history of Ireland a resident viceroy was appointed.

Breaking the Irish Parliament

Townshend accepted the task with enthusiasm. He was forty-three years of age, and had succeeded in achieving an unpopularity that provided him with a vast amount of inspiration for lampoons and caricatures. He never cultivated friendship either in men or women, and he found his chief relaxation in vilifying his opponents. He had fought under Wolfe at Quebec, and, the death of his superior having placed him in command, he claimed the honours, declaring that his fertile mind inspired Wolfe's plans and carried them into execution. The man who did this was capable of anything, and he was selected to break the power of the Irish Parliament. Lord Bristol had failed the ministry, declining the post on Lord Hertford's resignation, although he started for Dublin. When Bristol was informed that he would be expected to live in the Irish capital, he threw up the appointment in disgust. In the circumstances Townshend's selection was a hurried one, but he had no scruples about anything, and was the man for an unscrupulous task.

CHAPTER XI

The five years of Lord Townshend's viceroyalty were fruitful for Ireland. He might have adopted craftier methods and injured the country more than he did, but he openly pursued a stupid policy of bribery and spite: by the former gaining the adherence of the incompetent, and by the latter exasperating the men who in the end defeated him.

Amongst the Irish peers whom he was anxious to win over to his side was a kinsman, Lord Loftus. Loftus had some power in the Lords and in the Commons, and by reason of the viceroy's relationship to Lady Loftus he counted upon dealing the Opposition party a heavy blow. Lady Loftus, with visions of a great social position for herself, fell in with Townshend's plans, though her husband was stubborn. Then Lady Townshend died, and Lady Loftus had a fresh inspiration. The viceroy was a widower, and during his visits to Rathfarnham Castle had often noticed pretty little Dorothea Munroe, her ladyship's niece. Why should she not marry the couple? With her niece as the viceroy's wife Lady Loftus would be the most powerful woman in Ireland, and the exchanging of a viscountess's coronet for a countess's, or even a duchess's, would be accomplished easily. From that moment she let Townshend know that the marriage of Dolly Munroe would be the price of her husband's allegiance, and the Lord-Lieutenant, cynical and daring, began to visit Rathfarnham Castle daily and flatter Dolly's hopes. The girl was only seventeen when Lady Townshend died in 1770, and the leading beauty of her time. Henry Grattan was one of her admirers, but the most favoured in a wide circle was Hercules Langrishe, afterwards the Sir Hercules Langrishe who accepted £15,000 from Lord Castlereagh not to vote against the Act of Union. There is no doubt that Dolly would have married Hercules Langrishe but for her aunt. Perhaps she had ambitions herself, and the prospect of reigning in Dublin Castle dazzled her mind and unbalanced her judgment. Anyhow, she sent Langrishe about his business shortly after Lord Townshend had superintended the painting of her portrait by Angelica Kauffmann. Everything seemed favourable for a match, and Lady Loftus was hourly expecting a proposal.

In her confidence in the viceroy's word she secured her husband's support for the Government in the House of Lords, but from the moment Lord Loftus joined the viceroy's party Lord Townshend immediately ceased his visits to Rathfarnham Castle, and all Dublin laughed at poor Dolly. She became the butt of every wit. Lady Loftus grew desperate. She believed that Townshend was actually in love with her niece, and in her anxiety she took Dolly with her to Dublin Castle, and presented her to the viceroy. He received them politely, but by now there was no need even to act the lover, and Lady Loftus retired in a rage.

There was, however, one more trick in Lady Loftus's repertoire, and she caused the Dublin papers to print a notice to the effect that Dolly Munroe was going to marry the Right Honourable Thomas Andrews, Provost of Trinity College, Dublin. Instead of exciting Townshend's chagrin and jealousy, it merely evoked a characteristic set of verses in which he lampooned the aged Provost and congratulated him in a sneer on his conquest. Andrews was what would be called nowadays a 'character,' mainly because he had none. At one time Peg Woffington, the celebrated actress, had been his mistress, and he secured the provostship through her influence, for which he paid her £5,000. When Dolly Munroe was a girl Andrews was past seventy. Lady Loftus could not have selected a more absurd bridegroom.

Famous Irish beauties

Meanwhile Lord Townshend was flirting with Anne Montgomery, one of the three beautiful sisters. Anne, strangely enough, was also brought up in Rathfarnham Castle, and was a niece of Lady Loftus, but it was on Dolly Munroe that Lady Loftus showered all her affection. Anne was exceedingly pretty, and generally accepted as Dolly's rival, and when Lord Townshend was seen with Anne all Dublin became interested in the struggle between the two to secure the great matrimonial prize. The viceroy accepted the somewhat embarrassing position with nonchalance, affecting unconsciousness of the current gossip of the day. Everywhere the chances of the fair candidates were canvassed, and every man of fashion in Dublin had his 'book' on the contest. Huge sums were wagered by the respective partisans of Dolly and Anne as to which should become Lady Townshend. Dublin society had little else to do, for the city was crowded with loafers in every rank of society. Dinner-parties were the most popular form of entertaining, and the viceroy's matrimonial prospects were discussed at all.

Dublin Castle gradually became isolated, as Lord Townshend alienated everybody of position and clung to drunken brawlers and servile followers of the lowest class. The few levées were ludicrous affairs, and were soon abandoned. Even the official class detested their chief, and when in 1772 sixteen Irish peers drew up a petition against him and presented it to the king and Government, the patience and good temper of everybody had been exhausted. Townshend had not the decency to observe the rules that bind every gentleman who mixes in good society, and he insulted women with the same ease as he insulted gentlemen. To challenge him was to be informed that the representative of the king was privileged, and beyond that there was no appeal.

Lord Townshend's dismissal

The peers' petition, however, resulted in Townshend's recall. In itself the memorial would not have succeeded in causing the viceroy's removal from office, but the ministry in London had received reports from secret agents in Dublin, and it was deemed advisable, if a rebellion was to be prevented, that the unpopular Townshend should be superseded. Lord Harcourt was sent to replace him, and when the new viceroy arrived at three in the morning, he found his predecessor playing cards with a couple of congenial ruffians. With a half apology Townshend declared that at any rate Lord Harcourt had not caught him napping!

The ex-viceroy was in no mood to leave Dublin, and with Harcourt's permission he remained in Dublin Castle for a fortnight, ostensibly with the object of accepting some of the dozen challenges with which he had been favoured before his dismissal. But Townshend did not intend to fight, and his real purpose must have been to make arrangements for leaving the country with some show of dignity. Rumours had reached him that an attempt would be made on his life. Later this was discounted to a plot for throwing him into the sea, and again a circumstantial report of a proposal to make his carriage into a bonfire was circulated. Townshend affected to discredit all these, but he took the precaution of hiring a large body of roughs, whose duties were to escort his carriage and to raise stage cheers all the way.

The hired mob did its duty and earned its money, but it was as nothing against the voices of thousands of persons who lined the streets of the city and shouted their joy at the departure of the hated ex-viceroy. There was no concerted attempt at violence, however, and Townshend was able to reach his ship in safety.

Anne Montgomery was now the subject of many taunts. The common people jested about her openly, and her character was defamed. Dublin society began to look askance at the pretty girl whose name had been coupled with the notorious Townshend. Naturally, her family was furious, and the girl's brother, Captain Montgomery, a noted duellist, determined to bring the ex-viceroy to reason. In hot haste he followed him to England, and before Townshend reached London Captain Montgomery had overtaken him, and, literally at the point of the sword, compelled the viscount to send back a proposal of marriage to Anne. There was no greater coward in the world at the time, and so the self-styled hero of Quebec meekly accepted Captain Montgomery's terms and, rather than risk a duel, agreed to marry the girl. In due course the marriage took place, and £20,000 was won by those of Anne's admirers who had wagered on her becoming the second Lady Townshend. Her rival, Dolly Munroe, eventually married a Mr. Richardson, the rejected Langrishe never returning to her side. Langrishe himself married and lived many years, gaining a reputation for wit, the best specimen of which is his reply to the viceroy, who declared that Phoenix Park was a swamp, Langrishe retorting that his predecessors had been too busy draining the rest of the kingdom to be able to pay any attention to the cause of his Excellency's complaint.

Extravagant society

The viceroyalty of Lord Harcourt, which lasted from October, 1772, to the last days of 1776, was distinguished for its social magnificence. The Lord-Lieutenant was no politician, and he left that part of his work to Lord de Blaquerie, his chief secretary. He set the fashion for costly entertainments until to be economical was to confess oneself a social failure. Dozens of families of note, in their wild efforts to imitate the example of the viceroy, beggared themselves, spending in a few years the income of a whole generation. Thus the Lord-Lieutenant would be invited to a great dinner and dance given on a most lavish and extravagant scale. Within twenty-four hours the scene of the festivities would be stripped of everything of value to pay for the previous night's excesses.

There is a story told of an Irish gentleman who had been compelled to pawn every piece of family plate to meet the expenses of a visit from the viceroy. Of course, this misfortune was kept a profound secret, and when Lord Harcourt intimated shortly afterwards that he would like to be invited again, the would-be host was placed in a most embarrassing situation. His mansion in Stephen's Green was well furnished and staffed, but there was no plate, and, of course, he would not think of refusing the honour of a visit from the king's representative. There was only one thing to do: the pawnbroker must be induced to lend the plate for the occasion. Now, it happened that the pawnbroker was a man with social aspirations; his one ambition was to mix with the gentry, and as he possessed considerable wealth he had almost as much assurance. Finding that he would not lend the family plate, the viceroy's host had to make the pawnbroker one of his guests for the occasion, and, being a sensible fellow, the tradesman enjoyed discreetly the novel experience without adding to the worries of his patron.

This is only one story of many, all illustrating the stupendous folly of the period. Dublin literally danced, drank, and gambled itself into penury, whilst the Castle set, contemptuous and indifferent to public opinion, robbed and oppressed the country, and prepared the way for the ghastly year of 1798. Harcourt was indifferent, careless, and somewhat contemptuous of Ireland and its affairs, and as his viceroyalty was marked by numerous visits to England, he was never on the spot long enough to become conscious of the defects and shortcomings of his administration.

The free trade question

In 1775 Henry Grattan was elected to Parliament, and sat with Henry Flood, but Harcourt was replaced by the Earl of Buckinghamshire at the time when these two Irishmen began their great campaign for the freedom of Irish trade. England's policy had been to restrict Irish commercial enterprise, and only men of the calibre of Grattan and Flood could have succeeded in compelling the Government to remove the embargo on Irish trade. Lord Buckinghamshire, who had been Ambassador to Russia, carried out a policy of concessions, and he was able to give the royal approval to the bills for relieving Irish Dissenters from the sacramental test, and also grant some much-needed reforms in the franchise.

It must have been during the viceroyalty of Lord Buckinghamshire that English statesmen first thought of a legislative union with Ireland, for the reforms initiated by the viceroy undoubtedly pointed that way, reading their history in view of subsequent events. The rise of the Irish volunteer movement must have convinced the English Government that if Ireland was permitted to have its own legislation much longer the country would seek to break away from the monarchical union. Lord Buckinghamshire, however, was never informed of the Government's intentions. When he left in 1780, recalled by the Prime Minister, he was succeeded by Frederick Howard, fifth Earl of Carlisle, one of the commissioners who had failed to conciliate the American rebels a few years earlier. Lord Carlisle was a typical product of his age, when to graduate as a statesman one had to be at school or university with the reigning minister and have gambled one's way recklessly into favour. Every gentleman was a gambler, and Lord Carlisle was no exception to the rule. Before his sudden desire to shine as a politician he ruined himself at the card-tables, generously backing Fox's debts of honour, and, of course, paying them. It was the influence of Fox that led to his appointment to Ireland.

Lord Carlisle, with the easy assurance of a great nobleman whose position was secure, took over the government of Ireland in the spirit of the dilettante. The chief secretary, Sir William Eden, afterwards Lord Auckland, supervised the more arduous work, while the viceroy and his wife—a daughter of the Marquis of Stafford—gratified Dublin society by patronizing the card-table and the ballroom. In 1781 the present Viceregal Lodge was purchased for the use of the Lord-Lieutenant. Lord Carlisle's common sense, however, was not nullified by his native prejudice against Ireland. He came to Dublin prepared to administer laws made in England, but it was not long before he had to confess to his masters in London that it was utterly futile to attempt to govern Ireland by English-made laws. This testimony from a man whose honour was never doubted had enormous effect in winning for the Irish Parliament the famous Declaration of Independence, though it would not have been accomplished had not men like Henry Grattan and Flood devoted themselves to it.

Public opinion in Ireland gave Grattan the full credit for the victory, and some enthusiastic patriots brought forward a resolution in the Irish House of Commons with the object of securing for Grattan and his heirs the viceregal desmesne in Phoenix Park. This was very properly rejected, and nothing more was heard of the matter.

The Volunteer movement

The rise of the Irish Volunteer movement during the viceroyalty of Lord Buckinghamshire had created a new problem in Irish affairs. The Government in London, not understanding the crisis, magnified the Volunteers into a national army preparing to drive the English into the sea, and successive viceroys, well aware that the army in Ireland was in a disorganized and undisciplined state, regarded the Volunteers with a dismay their dignity compelled them to disguise. For the time being Henry Grattan was a greater power than the Lord-Lieutenant, and whenever the Irish statesman appeared at the Castle he was received with a favour that plainly indicated the respect he had gained in official circles. Grattan represented in his person the new Ireland. He was not a patriot in the sense the word is used nowadays; he did not fight the battles of all Ireland or advocate principles for the benefit of the whole country. He was the representative of the Anglo-Irish class which had risen to place and power by reason of its English origin.

When the Government in London realized that the descendants of the English colony and the 'undertakers' were becoming too powerful for their masters, they made a determined effort to cripple them. Lord Townshend's attempt was one of many, but fortunately for themselves the Anglo-Irish possessed in Grattan and Flood the two most powerful advocates in Parliament. Edmund Burke, having sought the more respectable and more remunerative English Parliament for the display of his talents, was driven to express his sympathies with the efforts of his fellow-countrymen to secure an unhampered trade for Ireland. This cost him his representation of Bristol, but the man who gave to mankind what was meant for Ireland might have done more for his native country and not diminished his political reputation.

Lord Carlisle admired Grattan, who, from a fashionable buck, had developed with extraordinary facility into the statesman, and during his occupancy of the post the Irish orator led the country. The solid qualities of Flood were obscured by the brilliance of Grattan, and the senior Parliamentarian had to give place to his youthful colleague. Grattan had the gift of social popularity, which Flood lacked. In his youthful days the famous orator was one of the most noted men about town who seemed to overrun Dublin. He was seen everywhere, and society ladies, anxious to shine in amateur theatricals, always came to Grattan for advice and specially written prologues. Dolly Munroe obtained this service of him, and when her reign as queen of beauty was over, and a new star in Elizabeth la Touche arose to dazzle Dublin, Grattan supervised some private theatricals for the fair Elizabeth, and wrote a prologue for her to recite before the then viceroy. Elizabeth eventually became Countess of Lanesborough, and remained Grattan's friend and supporter throughout her life.

Lord Carlisle's departure

Lord Carlisle was highly esteemed in official and society circles in Dublin, and there was genuine regret when, in April, 1782, the state of English politics compelled him to place his resignation in the hands of the Marquis of Rockingham, the Prime Minister. The Irish Houses of Parliament, in resolutions couched in the most generous language, thanked the departing viceroy for his services. He acknowledged their gratitude gracefully, but did not convey his private opinion that the sooner the great farce of their posing as an Irish Parliament was ended the better it would be for the country. In later years he spoke several times in the House of Lords, advocating the legislative union with Ireland, and his opinions must have been genuine, because the idea was undoubtedly Pitt's, and we know that Carlisle was bitterly opposed to that great statesman on every possible occasion.

Lord Carlisle's later life does not belong to the history of Ireland, although he lived for twenty-four years after the Union, and always took an interest in Irish affairs. Apart from his viceroyalty, he is best known as the guardian of his kinsman, Lord Byron, and the dedication of the second edition of 'Hours of Idleness' is only a reminder of the subsequent quarrel between the two noblemen.

The successor to Carlisle was William Henry Cavendish-Bentinck, third Duke of Portland. Born in 1738, he married when he was twenty-eight Lady Dorothy Cavendish, a daughter of the fourth Duke of Devonshire, adding to his wealth and power by the union. His appointment to Ireland was most momentous for that country, although his term of office began in April and ended the following September. He had no great gifts of statesmanship, and owed his political advancement to his birth and his friendship with Lord Rockingham, but his few months' experience of Ireland imbued him with a passion for Irish affairs and an ambition to settle that disturbed country. Portland, as Home Secretary from 1794 to 1801, had to deal with the Irish rebellion of 1798 and the carrying of the Act of Union. He worked very hard in both instances, but it is only fair to his memory to record the fact that he was opposed to the policy of bribery and corruption which terminated the existence of the Irish Parliament, and he allowed Castlereagh to do the dirty work.

Little is to be said of his brief administration as Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. He arrived in Dublin with a large retinue, and opened his season in Dublin Castle with a levée followed by a ball, where the official classes welcomed him because of his rank and birth. Dublin loved a lord, but was passionately devoted to dukes, and had Portland remained in the metropolis he would have been successful, as all mediocrities are who possess sufficient good sense to let difficult problems solve themselves. A sudden crisis in England, however, recalled Portland from Ireland. The Marquis of Rockingham had died suddenly, and the king had appointed Lord Shelburne to the premiership. This annoyed Fox, and he resigned, carrying Lord John Cavendish, the brother-in-law of the viceroy, Burke, and Sheridan with him. When he heard of this development, Portland added his resignation, and Lord Shelburne, after a gallant attempt to defeat the malcontents, advised the king that the only possible solution was the elevation of the Duke of Portland to the premiership. It is an historical fact that when great men differ mediocrities come into their kingdoms, and Portland as Prime Minister was a figurehead.

The Portland period

There is no more fruitful period in the history of the world than that bounded by the years 1782 and 1809—years selected because they mark the beginning of Portland's first ministry and the end of his second and last term of office—and yet he cannot be said to have done anything personally to enhance his reputation. He had much of the dogged and dignified obstinacy of his class, and he made at least one attempt to introduce a code of honour into politics; but it was his misfortune to have Castlereagh as a colleague, and that gentleman's lack of scruple was too much for his ducal friend. The 'Cornwallis Correspondence' gives a vivid picture of the vacillating nobleman, whose feeble attempts to stem the vigorous and unscrupulous polity of Lord Castlereagh might be humorous if they had not done so much harm.