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
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 L15,000 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, {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 L5,000. 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 embarrassing position with nonchalance,
{176} 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.
[Illustration: 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 nobility, 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-class 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 nobility.
Dublin Castle gradually became isolated, as Lord Townshend alienated
everybody of position {177} and clung to drunken brawlers and servile
followers of the lowest class. The few levees 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.
[Sidenote: 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 {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 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 {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 L20,000 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 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 {181} of the defects and shortcomings of his
administration.
[Sidenote: 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 {182} 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 {183} 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.
[Sidenote: 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 {184} '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 {185} 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
{186}
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 levee 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 {187} 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
{188}