'Not more than Dublin Castle, when Houghton was the king.'
On one occasion some people were officially commanded to dine. Not a carriage was to be seen as they drove up to the Viceregal Lodge, so the gentleman told his coachman to drive round the Phoenix Park, as they must be too early. There was still no sign of any gathering as they again approached the official residence, and when they entered they found they were the only guests, and the infuriated Lord Houghton, as well as all his household had been kept waiting twenty minutes by this hapless pair.
Another story, which was much enjoyed in Ireland as showing the pomposity of his Excellency, may be recalled. Whether true it is now difficult to say, but there is no doubt that the tale was started among the very house-party who were at Carton at the time.
The beautiful châtelaine, the lovely Duchess of Leinster, was walking through the fields one Sunday afternoon with Lord Houghton.
They came to a gate, which he opened, but to her astonishment proceeded to walk through it first himself.
The indignant Duchess haughtily remarked:—
'The Prince of Wales would not think of passing through a gate before me.'
'That may be; but I represent the Queen,' replied Lord Houghton, with unruffled imperturbability.
Lord Cadogan and Lord Dudley come so absolutely into contemporary history that on them nothing can here be said, except that their munificence has rendered it impossible for any peer of moderate private means to hold the office.
In sober truth, however, the administration of Government really rests with the Chief Secretary in recent times, although it was not so before the advent of Mr. Foster. Men like Lord Naas, Sir Robert Peel the younger, and Mr. Chichester Fortescue—afterwards Lord Carlingford—were mere official cyphers, but after Mr. Gladstone's 1880 ministry this has never been the case.