Lord Wharton
Wharton had done considerable service to the cause of William by the writing of a single song that proved to be worth an army to the Orange party. Like most of the English nobility, Wharton had been vastly amused by Tyrconnel's elevation to the viceroyalty. In his opinion the position was one for a gentleman, and not a bully with Irish leanings and unrepentantly Catholic. The famous song, set to music by Purcell, and known as 'Lilli Burlero, Bullen-a-la,' was the result, and, whistled and sung from one end of the country to the other, it ridiculed Tyrconnel out of existence. That was Wharton's first contribution to the history of Ireland.
His second took the form of a law declaring that all property held by Catholics must be inherited by their Protestant heirs—a statute which was declared to do more towards stamping out Popery in three months than all others had done in three years. The viceroy, however, took no pains to please anybody but himself. He lived in Dublin as he lived in London, and, when satiated with the pleasures of the Irish metropolis, he crossed over to London, following the example of his predecessors, who never became too fond of Dublin to prefer it to London.
Wharton's first wife, Ann Lee, brought him a large fortune and a plain face; his second, Lucy Loftus, was heavily dowered, but her character almost matched his own—and that is saying a great deal. During his viceroyalty most of the royalty was absent, and Dublin Castle became a glorified tavern and brothel. The viceroy's discarded mistresses were married to distressed profligates, whom Wharton promoted to office in the State or gave preferment in the Church. Once he recommended a boon companion for a bishopric, declaring that 'James was the most honourable man alive, and possessed of a character practically faultless save for his damnable morals.' This person did not secure the bishopric, but he found compensation in a deanery.
Joseph Addison
The only sober member of the viceroy's retinue was Joseph Addison, whose hackwork in the service of the party had been rewarded with this appointment, much to Swift's envy, for the Irishman was supposed to be entitled to payment before Addison, who served with zeal 'the profligate son of a Puritanical father, and the father of a son more licentious than himself.' When the Lord-Lieutenant left Ireland the Parliament actually thanked the queen for having sent 'one so great in wisdom and experience to be our chief Governor.' This was the man who had knighted potmen who served him with ale, tried to idealize the most abandoned women, and regarded with complacency the amours of his wife, who, having lost the affections of her husband, found consolation in a dozen other men. Cardsharpers, profligates, and every species of base adventurer had the entrée to Dublin Castle, where the viceroy reigned as a 'prince of good fellows,' many of whom had been kicked out of decent society in London. But Wharton was powerful enough to be more than unconventional, and it suited his peculiar sense of humour to shock even his most licentious companions-in-arms. When they roamed Dublin at night seeking for prey, Wharton behaved like a drunken madman, and he fondly imagined that his identity was not discovered, except when, in an intoxicated mood, he called for a sword and bestowed knighthoods indiscriminately on waiters and landlords, and even went through the farce of knighting women of the street. His motto was never to give a challenge and never to refuse one. When in his teens he had fought two duels with outraged husbands, and gained the victory in each encounter.
His viceroyalty was certainly unconventional. Dignified prelates, hovering in draughty rooms and corridors, were twitted mercilessly by my Lord Wharton, who was the most contemptuous enemy the Protestant faith ever knew. Once he declared that he hated all religions, but if he had to join one he would select the Presbyterian, because it was opposed to the Church of England. Swift's famous attack on him merely created a temporary annoyance in the English nobleman.
It was no misfortune for Ireland that the fall of the Government entailed Wharton's recall in October, 1710, and the Duke of Ormonde's reappointment was at once announced. Wharton, cynical and contemptuous, looked upon his supersession with indifference. He had exhausted all the pleasures Dublin had to offer, and so London knew him once more. He lived until 1715, and saw King George on the throne and his rival, Ormonde, a penniless fugitive. The latter fact must have enabled him to believe that there were compensations in this world even for a man who defied it. There is a story told of him which aptly illustrates his cynical sense of humour. When the famous 'twelve peers' were created by Queen Anne in order that the Government might carry a certain measure in the House of Lords, Wharton nicknamed them 'the jury,' and, rising in his place in the House of Lords, inquired blandly whether the twelve voted singly or through their foreman. He was nearing the close of his life when a marquisate was conferred on him, and he maintained his influence on public affairs right to the end.
The Duke of Shrewsbury