The reigning beauties of his viceroyalty were the Gunning sisters. During Lord Chesterfield's term they had lingered in squalid poverty in an unfashionable part of Dublin, but being old enough to attend the viceregal functions of 1748, they overcame the disadvantage of poverty by accepting from Sheridan, the theatrical manager, the loan of the dresses they subsequently appeared in at the great ball given by the viceroy in honour of the birthday of George II., October 30, 1748. Lady Caroline Petersham, the viceroy's daughter-in-law, who acted as hostess for him, was greatly struck by the appearance of the Gunnings, and to her interest and that of Lord Harrington was due the first success of the family. The viceroy settled a pension of £150 per annum on the girls' mother, and when they became Duchess of Hamilton and Countess of Coventry, they never forgot the generosity of their first patron. The subsequent fame of the sisters was such that when, in 1755, they paid a visit to Dublin, the viceroy, Lord Harrington, held a levée in their honour.
Throughout his residence in Ireland, Harrington continued to fight, and used every weapon, fair or foul, at his disposal. Lucas, driven from Ireland, was somewhere on the Continent, and several Irish members had been removed from the House by bribery and other methods. Still, there was no suffocating the voice of the people, and in the last month of 1750 Lionel Sackville, Duke of Dorset, was given his second chance as Viceroy of Ireland. Harrington did not know whether to be pleased or not at his removal. He was anxious to rest from the struggle of Irish politics, for he was not the man to create new measures or understand the sentiments of a new order of things, but he was eager to beat the Irish, and to teach them the strength of his authority. Dublin, however, was in no two minds about its attitude towards the departing viceroy. From the moment that the citizens knew of his recall, they lighted bonfires to celebrate it, and held public meetings under the walls of Dublin Castle, in the course of which the speakers publicly thanked God for having relieved Dublin of the plaguy presence of Harrington. An attempt was made to secure a peaceful and unostentatious exit from the country, but the people would not be denied, and at a hundred points along the route of his departure the ex-viceroy witnessed the humiliating sight of bonfires and speakers alike proclaiming their joy at his departure.
It was, indeed, in remarkable contrast to Lord Chesterfield's brief and brilliant reign.
Peg Woffington
The Dublin of Dorset's time was squalid, dirty, and disease-ridden. The gentry were drinking themselves into penury; the city was crowded with young bloods, who gambled, and drank, and called out each other to give satisfaction on the famous duelling-ground of Phoenix Park. Clubs of all sorts abounded, and were in reality drinking dens. The most famous of all, Daly's, was the headquarters of most of the notorious gamblers and debauchées of the metropolis. Five theatres ministered to the pleasures of the Court and people, and the leading actress was Peg Woffington, the mistress of the Provost of Trinity College. Peg, as we all know, was a high-spirited woman, and full of a sparkling audacity that often amounted to impertinence. On one occasion, when the Duke of Dorset was seated in the royal box at the theatre, she saucily concluded a recitation with the lines:
'Let others with as small pretentions
'Tease you for places or for pensions,
I scorn a pension or a place.
My sole design upon your grace—
The sum of my petition this—
I claim, my lord, an annual kiss.'
The verses were written by Dr. Andrews, the Provost, and caused great offence in the ranks of the fashionable ladies, who cut the actress for a time. Peg Woffington, however, did not suffer to any considerable extent as a result of her pert address to the viceroy.
Virtue was not the duke's strong point. Many have been the scrapes Viceroys of Ireland have got themselves into, but the Duke of Dorset was the only one whose conduct enabled an outraged husband to divorce his wife. The lady in the case was Mrs. La Touche, who declared that love was the hereditary passion in her family. A woman who could resist nothing was easy prey to the tenant of Dublin Castle.
Dorset had secured his reappointment by lavish promises. He undertook to restore sanity to Ireland—meaning, of course, Dublin, for officialism did not recognize the provinces—and he guaranteed to bring the Irish Parliament to its senses. In the circumstances Dorset had his way, and in 1751 he re-entered Dublin. He might have succeeded in scoring a personal triumph if he had not brought his youngest son, Lord George Sackville, with him. Hitherto it had been Dorset's policy to let well alone—he did nothing particularly well, and was popular on that account. Lord George Sackville, however, had neither the complacence nor the dignity of his father; he came as the viceroy's Secretary of State, his adviser, the man who saw that things were done. One of his first acts was to quarrel with the Speaker of the Irish House of Commons. This was Henry Boyle, afterwards Earl of Shannon. Boyle was an Irish Parliamentary Hampden, who jealously guarded the rights of his assembly and of the country. Harrington had left Parliament triumphant, and the House was not going to be brow-beaten by George Sackville.
The struggle with Parliament