The Viceroys of Ireland Part 8

[Sidenote: 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 n.o.bleman, who was given the t.i.tle {164} 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 t.i.tle. It was a marriage of convenience that developed into love on both sides, {165} 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.

[Sidenote: 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 {166} was a miser. She saved every penny, and nothing pa.s.sed 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 levees 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 {167} 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 c.u.mberland, 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 c.u.mberland a position at the Board of Trade, and, secured by this kindly act, c.u.mberland 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!

[Sidenote: 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.

{168} A man of vast wealth, and wedded to a woman with a pa.s.sion 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 circ.u.mstances.

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 appet.i.te for more.

Then in 1765 Lord Northumberland was abruptly dismissed from office, and the Earl of Hertford appointed. Returning to London in a pa.s.sion, Northumberland sought out the king and his ministers, demanding an explanation. The {169} '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.

[Sidenote: 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, {170} 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 {171} 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.

[Sidenote: 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 {172} 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 circ.u.mstances Townshend's selection was a hurried one, but he had no scruples about anything, and was the man for an unscrupulous task.

{173}

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 {174} countess's, or even a d.u.c.h.ess'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 b.u.t.t 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, {175} 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.

[Sidenote: 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 embarra.s.sing position with nonchalance, {176} affecting unconsciousness of the current gossip of the day.

Everywhere the chances of the fair candidates were canva.s.sed, 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Marquis Townshend]

The viceroy did not permit these diversions to interfere with his political policy. He poured out hundreds of thousands of pounds and almost as many promises in his desperate efforts to secure the destruction of the 'undertakers.' No act was too unscrupulous or too mean for him to lend his name to, and to further his ends he made confidants of some of the most disreputable and discreditable hangers-on in Dublin society. No speech did not contain a sneer at the Irish n.o.bility, which he affected to despise as something utterly false and unreal. For the defence Flood, Grattan, and Langrishe united, and produced the famous satire 'Baratariana.' Townshend replied with spirit, writing his lampoon in a low-cla.s.s tavern near the Castle. He was a frequent visitor to the old Dublin taverns, excusing himself on the ground that they were better conducted and more hospitable than the Irish n.o.bility.

Dublin Castle gradually became isolated, as Lord Townshend alienated everybody of position {177} and clung to drunken brawlers and servile followers of the lowest cla.s.s. The few levees were ludicrous affairs, and were soon abandoned. Even the official cla.s.s detested their chief, and when in 1772 sixteen Irish peers drew up a pet.i.tion 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.

[Sidenote: Lord Townshend's dismissal]

The peers' pet.i.tion, 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 {178} 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 circ.u.mstantial 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 {179} 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.

[Sidenote: 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 {180} had been compelled to p.a.w.n 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 embarra.s.sing 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 p.a.w.nbroker must be induced to lend the plate for the occasion. Now, it happened that the p.a.w.nbroker 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 a.s.surance. Finding that he would not lend the family plate, the viceroy's host had to make the p.a.w.nbroker 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 ill.u.s.trating 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 {181} of the defects and shortcomings of his administration.

[Sidenote: The free trade question]