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 {162} Bedford had other ideals, and she did much to smooth
her husband's path to power by her tact and graciousness. She threw
open Dublin Castle to everybody, and showed by her own and her
husband's attention to the social side of Dublin life that their last
concern was with the political. The duke announced a great programme
of reform, which was to be carried out quietly. He would not favour
either political party in the State--there were now two parties,
English and Irish--and he endorsed cordially the recommendation of the
Parliament that these Englishmen who farmed out their appointments in
Dublin for less than the salaries they received should be recalled, and
if they did not obey, dismissed from office.
But it was the magnificent state they maintained in Dublin that won the
allegiance of Ireland. Parasites feed even on imitation Courts, and
increase and multiply, while the not less important parasites--the
beggars of Dublin--were fed bountifully from the remains of Dives' many
tables. The duke and 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 {163} it was a relief
to have a man who did not plunder the treasury to provide annuities for
his poor relations, or satisfy the blackmailing propensities of his
discarded mistresses. Bedford was popular, and the 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.
[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 nobleman, who was given the title
{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
L100,000, 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, {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
L12,000 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 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 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 L4,000 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
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!
[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 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 {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 circumstances Townshend's selection was a hurried one, but he had
no scruples about anything, and was the man for an unscrupulous task.
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