DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND MARQUESS OF LONDONDERRY.
My first acquaintance with the Duke of Wellington and the late Marquess of Londonderry, at a dinner at my own house—Some memoirs and anecdotes of the former as a public man—My close connexion with government—Lord Clare’s animosity to me suspended—Extraordinary conference between Lord Castlereagh, Mr. Cooke, and me, in August 1798—Singular communication—Offers made to me for succession as solicitor-general—I decline the terms proposed—Lord Castlereagh’s letter to me—Character of Mr. Pelham, now Earl of Chichester.
My personal acquaintance with the Duke of Wellington originated accidentally, soon after I commenced public life; and so clearly shows the versatility of men, the fallibility of judgment, and the total uncertainty of all human prediction, that I cannot avoid mentioning it.
In 1793, when I was in high repute, most prosperous at the bar, living in the first ranks of society, a distinguished favourite at the vice-regal court, and designated as a candidate for the first offices of my profession, I occasionally gave large splendid dinners, according to the habit invariably adopted in those times by persons circumstanced like myself.—At one of those entertainments Major Hobart (Lord Buckinghamshire); Sir John Parnell; Isaac Corry; I think Lord Limerick; Sir John (afterward Lord) de Blacquiere; Lords Llandaff, Dillon, Yelverton; the Speaker, &c. &c.—in all, upward of twenty noblemen and commoners did me the honour of partaking my fare: to assist in preparing which Lord Clonmel sent me his two grand cooks. At that period I was not unentertaining; and a most cheerful party was predicted.—The House had sat late, and etiquette never permitted us to go to dinner (where the Speaker was a guest) until his arrival, unless he had specially desired us to do so.
The Speaker did not join us till nine o’clock, when Sir John Parnell brought with him, and introduced to me, Captain Wellesley and Mr. Stewart, two young members, who having remained in the House, he had insisted on their coming with him to my dinner, where he told them good cheer and a hearty welcome would be found; and in this he was not mistaken.
Captain Arthur Wellesley had, in 1790, been returned to Parliament for Trim, County Meath, a borough under the patronage of his brother, the Earl of Mornington.[[56]] He was then ruddy-faced and juvenile in appearance, and rather popular among the young men of his age and station. His address was not polished: he occasionally spoke in Parliament, but not successfully, and never on important subjects; and evinced no promise of that unparalleled celebrity and splendour he has since reached, and whereto intrepidity and decision, good luck and great military science, have justly combined to elevate him. As to his late civil triumph, I will suspend giving my opinion, though I hold a strong one.
[56]. I think he was opposed by the present Mr. Saurin, and Mr. Tod Jones (who afterward sent a bullet through Sir Richard Musgrave’s abdomen).
Lord Castlereagh was the son of Mr. Stewart, a country gentleman, generally accounted to be a very clever man, in the north of Ireland. He had been a professed and not very moderate patriot, and at one time carried his ideas of opposition exceedingly far,—becoming a leading member of the Reform and Liberal societies.[[57]]
[57]. See the history of Belfast, and the northern clubs and volunteer resolutions of that period—namely, 1779 or 1780. He and Mr. Joy, a printer, drew them up conjointly.
Lord Castlereagh began his career in the Irish Parliament, by a motion for a committee to inquire into the representation of the people, with the ulterior object of a reform in Parliament. He made a good speech, and had a majority in the House, which he certainly did not expect, and I am sure did not wish for. He was unequal and unwilling to push that point to further trial: the matter cooled in a few days; and after the next division, was deserted entirely. Mr. Stewart, however, after that speech, was considered as a very clever young man, and in all points well taught and tutored by his father, whose marriage with the Marquess of Camden’s sister was the remote cause of all his future successes:—how sadly terminated!
At the period to which I allude, I feel confident nobody could have predicted that one of those young gentlemen would become the most celebrated general of his era, and the other the most unfortunate minister of Europe. However, it is observable, that to the personal intimacy and reciprocal friendship of those two individuals, they mutually owed the extent of their respective elevation and celebrity:—Sir Arthur Wellesley never would have had the chief command in Spain but for the ministerial aid of Lord Castlereagh; and Lord Castlereagh never could have stood his ground as a minister, but for Lord Wellington’s successes.
At my house the evening passed amidst that glow of well-bred, witty, and cordial vinous conviviality, which was, I believe, peculiar to high society in Ireland.
From that night I became somewhat intimate with Captain Wellesley and Mr. Stewart; and perceived certain amiable qualities in both. Change of times, or the intoxication of prosperity, certainly tends either to diminish or increase some natural traits in every man’s character, or to neutralise qualities which had previously been prominent. Indeed, if Lord Wellington had continued until now the same frank, plain, open-hearted man, he certainly must have been better proof against those causes which usually excite a metamorphosis of human character than any one who ever preceded him. Still, if possible, he would have been a greater man; at least, he would have better drawn the distinction between a warrior and a hero—terms not altogether synonymous.
Many years subsequently to the dinner-party I have mentioned, after Sir Arthur had returned from India, I one day met Lord Castlereagh in the Strand, and a gentleman with him. His lordship stopped me, whereat I was rather surprised, as we had not met for some time: he spoke very kindly, smiled, and asked if I had forgotten my old friend? It was Sir Arthur Wellesley whom I discovered in his companion; but looking so sallow and wan, and with every mark of what is called a worn-out man, that I was truly concerned at his appearance.—But he soon recovered his health and looks, and went as the Duke of Richmond’s secretary to Ireland; where he was in all material traits still Sir Arthur Wellesley—but it was Sir Arthur Wellesley judiciously improved. He had not forgotten his friends, nor did he forget himself. He told me that he had accepted the office of secretary only on the terms that it should not impede or interfere with his military pursuits; and what he said proved true, for he was soon sent, as second in command of the troops, with Lord Cathcart to Copenhagen, to break through the law of nations, and execute upon a Christian state and ancient ally the most distinguished piece of treachery that history records.
On Sir Arthur’s return he recommenced his duty of secretary; and during his residence in Ireland, in that capacity, I did not hear one complaint against any part of his conduct either as a public or private man. He was afterward appointed to command in Spain: an appointment which was, I then thought, expected by Sir John Doyle. I do not mean to infer the least disparagement to either the military or diplomatic talents of Sir John; but his politics, or at least those of his friends, were opposite, and he might have pursued a very different course to decide (for the time being) the fate of Europe.
A few days before Sir Arthur’s departure for Spain, I requested him and Lord Manners to spend a day with me, which they did. The company was not very large, but some of Sir Arthur’s military friends were of the party:—the late Sir Charles Asgill, the present General Meyrick, &c. &c. I never saw him more cheerful or happy. The bombardment of Copenhagen being by chance stated as a topic of remark, I did not join in its praise; but, on the other hand, muttered that I never did nor should approve of it.
“Damn it, Barrington!” said Sir Arthur, “why? what do you mean to say?”—“I say, Sir Arthur,” replied I, “that it was the very best devised, the very best executed, and the most just and necessary ‘robbery and murder’ now on record!” He laughed, and we soon adjourned to the drawing-rooms, where Lady Barrington had a ball and supper as a finish for the departing hero.
In 1815, having been shut up in Paris during the siege, I went out to Neuilly to pay a visit to the duke before our troops got into the city.—I had not seen him since the day above-mentioned; and he had intermediately much changed in his appearance, though seeming just as friendly.
I knew his Grace when Captain Wellesley—Sir Arthur Wellesley—Secretary Wellesley—Ambassador Wellesley—and Duke of Wellington. In the first stage of this career, I was, as a public man, more than his equal; in the last, nobody is so much. However, it is a fine reflection for the contemporaries of great people, that it will be “all the same a hundred years hence!” and heroes, diplomatists,[[58]] &c. must either become very good-tempered fellows when they meet in the Elysian fields, or—there must be a very strong police to keep them in order.
[58]. The following unpublished lines, by Miss M. Tylden, the most talented young lady I ever met, depict the frivolity and short-lived nature of human vanities more forcibly than a hundred sermons—if we calmly reflect what a contemptible animal is man!—
“The kingdoms of the world have pass’d away,
And its strong empires moulder’d into dust,
Swift as the changes of a poet’s dream;
And kings and heroes, and the mighty minds
Whose hopes circled eternity, and seized
The stars as their inheritance, and grew
Too big for mortal frames—until they sank
Into the narrow bounds of nature:—
These are the things which, even nameless now,
Are on the earth forgot—or, if retain’d,
Of power, of life, and motion all bereft!”
Whilst the duke was at St. Denis, I was present in the French Chamber of Deputies when the question of capitulation was discussed; and most undoubtedly Marshal Ney supported that measure upon the basis of a general amnesty. On any other, it would never have been listened to: the battle would have taken place; and the Duke of Wellington would have had to contest the most sanguinary and desperate engagement of his day with a numerous and well-appointed army, frantic with zeal to revenge their disgrace at Waterloo. This I know:—for I was (truly against the grain) kept more than twelve hours in the midst of that army at Vilette, two days before the capitulation. Of this more will be seen in the last volume. I cannot but remark, that if Ney had been pardoned, and the horses not sent to Venice, or the Louvre plundered, the spirit of the capitulation—nay, the very words of it—would have been more strictly adhered to.
I must be rightly understood respecting Lord Londonderry, to whom, individually, I never had the slightest objection. I always found him friendly, though cold; and fair, though ambiguous.—I never knew him break his word; and believe him to have been, as a private gentleman, unconnected with Parliament or official negotiations, perfectly honourable. But here my eulogy must close; for, with regard to public character, his lordship must, I fear, be pronounced corrupt. When determined on a point, nothing could stop him. In Ireland, his career was distinguished by public bribery and palpable misrepresentations:—of which assertion, had I not indisputable and ample proof, I would not hazard it.
Mr. Pelham (now Earl of Chichester) was secretary to Lord Camden when lord lieutenant. I had the good fortune and pleasure (for it was a great pleasure to me) to be on very friendly terms with this amiable and engaging gentleman, and have seldom met any public personage I liked so well—moderate, honourable, sufficiently firm and sufficiently spirited: I had a real gratification in attaching myself not only to his measures, but to his society. In all our intercourse (which ceased with his departure) I found him candid and just, and experienced at his hands several public acts of kindness and attention.
Mr. Pelham’s parliamentary talents were not of a splendid order. The people of Ireland never required stars for ministers; but a fair and candid secretary was a great treat to them, and Mr. Pelham was making rapid way in public esteem (though no friend to emancipation). The last day I ever saw him in Ireland he and his brother-in-law, Lord Sheffield, did me the favour of dining with me in Merrion Square. I perceived he was uncommonly dull, and regretted the circumstance much: he obviously grew worse,—at length laid his head upon the table, and when he departed was extremely ill: next day he was in a violent fever, his life was long despaired of; he recovered with difficulty, and, on his recovery, returned to England. Mr. Stewart (by marriage the lord lieutenant’s nephew) was named as locum tenens during Mr. Pelham’s absence, or (should he not return) until the appointment of another secretary. But he was soon discovered by his employers to be fit for any business; and as it had been long in the secret contemplation of the British ministry to extinguish the Irish Parliament, either by fraud or force,—and Lord Camden being considered too inactive (perhaps too conscientious and honourable) to resort to either of those weapons, it was determined to send over an old servant-of-all-work, who had fought till he was beaten, and negotiated till he was outwitted. This person (Lord Cornwallis), with the assistance of his young secretary, would stop at nothing necessary to effect the purpose; and they could, between them, carry a measure which few other persons, at that period, durst have attempted.
These fragments are not intended as political episodes. The result of that coalition every body knows: I shall only state so much of the transaction as relates to my own individual concerns. I had an interview with Lord Castlereagh, some time after he came into office, at Mr. Cooke’s chambers. He told me he understood I expected to be the next solicitor-general, and had applied for the office. I answered, that I not only expected as much, but considered myself, under all circumstances, entitled to that preferment. He and Mr. Cooke both said, “yes;” and recommended me to make “my party good with Lord Clare,” who had expressed “no indisposition” to the appointment on a vacancy. Had I not been supposed of some use to the government, I do not doubt but Lord Clare would have preferred many other more subservient gentry of my profession. But he knew that although Lord Westmoreland, on leaving Ireland, had made no express stipulation, he had subsequently gone as far as he could with Lord Camden for my promotion. Lord Clare played me off cleverly, until, in the month of August 1799, I was sent for in private by the secretary, Edward Cooke, who had been a particularly confidential friend of mine for several years. Having first enjoined secrecy as to the subject of our conference, he told me that a measure of great import had been under consideration in the English cabinet, and might possibly be acted on: and then proceeding to acquaint me that Lord Clare had made no objection to my promotion, he asked in so many words if I would support the “question of a union, IF it should be brought forward?” I was struck as if by a shot! I had no idea of such a thing being now seriously contemplated, although I had often heard of it as a measure suggested in 1763. My mind had never any doubts upon the degrading subject, all thoughts whereof had been considered as banished for ever by the Volunteers, and the Renunciation passed by the British legislature, in 1782. I therefore replied at once, “No, never!”—“You’ll think better of it, Barrington!” said he. “Never!” rejoined I: and the discussion was dropped; nor did I confide it to any save one individual, who differed with me very much, at least as to the mode of my refusal.
I was determined, however, to know how the matter really stood; and, without touching on the late conversation, desired to be apprised whether they preserved the intention of appointing me solicitor-general. I received no other answer than the following letter from Lord Castlereagh, without any explanation;—but it was enveloped in a very long one from Mr. Cooke, headed “strictly private;” and, therefore, of course, still remaining so, at least during my life. It may one day be considered a very remarkable public document.
September 7, 1799.
“My dear sir,
“I am directed by his Excellency, the Lord Lieutenant, to assure you, that he would be glad to avail himself of any proper opportunity of complying with your wishes; and that he regrets much he is at present so particularly circumstanced with respect to the office of solicitor-general, that he feels it impossible to gratify your desire as to that appointment. I should, myself, have been very happy had I been able to communicate to you a more favourable result.
“Dear Sir, yours very sincerely,
“Castlereagh.”
I have never had any thing more to do with the successive governments of Ireland,[[59]] and have used much forbearance in giving my opinion of Irish lord chancellors, except Mr. Ponsonby, whom nobody ever heard me praise as a very great lawyer, but whom every body has heard me term a just judge, an honest, friendly man, and an adequate chancellor.
[59]. Lord Castlereagh’s letter to me put, in fact, a civil end to my dreams of promotion; and I was neither sinister nor cunning enough to regain any influence after the Union was effected.
Of Lord Camden, I believe, there was no second opinion in the circle wherein I moved:—a better man could not be; but instead of governing, he was governed: and intimately acquainted as I was with every procedure and measure during his administration in Ireland, I do most fully acquit him, individually, of the outrageous, impolitic, and ill-judged measures which distinguished his rule. As to Lord Clare, he was despotic, and the greatest enemy Ireland ever had. His father had been a Roman Catholic, and intended for a priest, but changed his tenets, became a barrister of great and just celebrity, and left many children.
Lord Clare was latterly my most inveterate enemy: the cause shall hereafter[[60]] be no secret;—it arose from a vicious littleness of mind scarcely credible, and proves to me that implacability of temper never exists without attendant faults; and although it may be deprecated by cringing, is seldom influenced by feelings of generosity.
[60]. If this cause involved no names but his lordship’s and my own, it should appear in these volumes; but it is a much more comprehensive subject, and I feel too delicate on the point at present to enlarge further upon it.