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.