The cause of the most important and vital dispute was a measure disposing of the surplus revenues of the country. Parliament declared that it could dispose of them without the sanction of the king; the viceroy, through his Secretary of State, declared otherwise, and when the House of Commons sent the bill for the viceroy's approval, he inserted a clause giving the king's permission to its establishment by law. The assembly ignored the clause, and proceeded to other business. Sackville and George Stone, the Primate, were furious. They saw in this act of insubordination the terrible spectacle of a free Parliament sitting day after day and publicly criticizing the privileged class—the officials. Acting under their advice, Dorset signed a warrant for the Speaker's arrest, and an attempt was made to execute it. But in order to get at the person of Boyle—who was the hero of the hour—the officers would have had to arrest half the population of Dublin. Thousands of persons of all classes followed the Speaker wherever he went, forming an unofficial bodyguard that soon so impressed Sackville that the warrant was withdrawn.
Meanwhile the dispute between Parliament and the viceroy formed the subject of all sorts and conditions of rumours. Once it was reported that the king had signed a decree abolishing the Irish Parliament, and substituting for it the attendance of so many Irish members in the English Parliament. There was no foundation for the rumour, but it was not an hour old before a vast mob surrounded Dublin Castle, shouting lurid threats against the person of the viceroy. One of the most popular theatres, owned by one of the most popular men—Sheridan, the father of the famous dramatist—was wrecked because the leading comedian would not repeat some lines which seemed to be slightly veiled, satirical references to the national dispute.
Boyle was now master of the situation, the real ruler of the country. The persecution of the Government had, as it often has done before, raised a man of mediocre ability to the pedestal of genius. Sensational rumours began to reach England and astound the frequenters of the clubs and the coffee-houses. It was reported that Dorset had been murdered and Boyle elected King of Ireland, and there were visions that seemed like stern realities of the end of the English robbing of the Irish till. The ministry became alarmed, and when the Government realized that Dorset was a menace to their authority in Dublin, they decided to recall him, and appoint Lord Hartington in his place. It is said that when Dorset heard of this he burst into tears, and it is, indeed, extraordinary the passion this man had for the position of Viceroy of Ireland. He wrote letters to the king, humbly praying that he might be allowed to return to the Government of Ireland as soon as order was restored, but in the long run he had to feign contentment with the minor post of Master of the Horse.
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.