The Viceroys of Ireland Part 11

[Sidenote: O'Connell and the Duke]

Daniel O'Connell took up the case for the imprisoned editor when no other member of the bar dare run the risk of offending the viceregal court. The result was a foregone conclusion, and McGee was considered lucky to get off with two {215} years' imprisonment and a fine of 500, but the case was rescued from obscurity by the accused's advocate's introduction of the ultra-political speech for the defence. In those days they allowed a degree of irrelevancy in counsels' speeches that would not be tolerated for a moment in the twentieth century.

The duke did not go out of office until 1813. The position of representative of the king had its advantages, and the almost regal state he maintained in Dublin soothed his vanity, and was, incidentally, good for the trade of the city. The d.u.c.h.ess loved power even more than her husband did, and the exploits of the late chief secretary, now well on his way to a dukedom, were her princ.i.p.al topic of conversation. In Dublin she could lead, whereas in London she had to follow, and in Dublin she stayed for several years, an undisputed queen. Curran, now Master of the Rolls, was her friend, and the wits of the town flattered her in their own charming way. Years afterwards the d.u.c.h.ess confessed that the happiest years of her life were spent in Dublin.

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CHAPTER XIV

The advocates of Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation could not be expected to be content with mere social pleasures, and the ministry decided to try a diplomat in the difficult post. The duke having resigned in 1813, Lord Whitworth, an experienced diplomatist and a strong anti-Catholic, took his place. The duke and d.u.c.h.ess, after their experience of Brussels and Waterloo, consented to govern British North America, as Canada was then termed, and in 1819 the duke died of hydrophobia in the town of Richmond.

Students of Napoleonic history will be able to recall the early career of the man chosen to foil the attempts of the popular party to force their policy of Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation on the Government. Whitworth, who had been born without a t.i.tle or great wealth, was a self-made man as far as it was possible for one who owed his opportunities to the generosity of well-disposed patrons. He was first a soldier, and then, through the influence of the Duke of Dorset, a diplomat, representing England in Poland, Russia, and France. As Amba.s.sador in Paris he came into contact with Napoleon, and it was Whitworth who demanded his pa.s.sports from the Corsican {217} when the Peace of Amiens was broken and all Europe plunged into war.

Lord Whitworth was a man who took advantage of his opportunities, and from 1785 to 1803 fortune was very kind to him, but following his sudden withdrawal from Paris he seemed to lose his powers, and for ten years he chafed in obscurity. In 1801 he had married the widow of his first great patron, and the d.u.c.h.ess of Dorset, a woman whose egotism was matched by her greed, brought him a large fortune and some influence. This was increased by the marriage of her mother to Lord Liverpool, and when that n.o.bleman had been at the head of the Government for about a year he succ.u.mbed to the importunities of his ambitious stepdaughter and appointed her husband to succeed the Duke of Richmond.

[Sidenote: The haughty d.u.c.h.ess]

To a woman of the temperament that distinguished the d.u.c.h.ess of Dorset the acme of human bliss was the impersonation of royalty. She revelled in the rites attendant upon the state the viceroy maintained, and as the haughty d.u.c.h.ess she was known throughout the country. Lord Whitworth, past sixty and somewhat bored, was a tool in the hands of his wife, who never forgot the fact that he was her late husband's protege and, therefore, to some extent hers also. She personally supervised the list of those who had the _entree_ to the Castle, and her censors.h.i.+p of her predecessor's list caused a vast amount of ill-feeling. Wives of respectable professional men found themselves relegated to the position occupied by their prototypes fifty years before, while {218} the intrepid d.u.c.h.ess even attacked those who had married into plebeian families, and, therefore, forfeited her regard.

It was due to her efforts that her relative, Lord Liverpool, conferred an earldom on Whitworth, though she retained her ducal t.i.tle throughout her life.

The viceregal pair were not unpopular, but Whitworth was scarcely the man to understand Irish affairs. To a large extent the ruler of the country was Sir Robert Peel, the chief Secretary until 1818. The d.u.c.h.ess of Dorset did not always approve of Peel, but, recognizing that he saved her husband a considerable amount of work, she delegated the task of maintaining the usual official correspondence with the ministry in London to him. Peel was a strong--soon to become the strongest--opponent of the Catholic claims. The viceroy was of the same opinion on this important matter, and, backed by an enormous English army, they defied public opinion.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Earl Talbot]

In the autumn of 1817 it was decided to replace Whitworth by Lord Talbot, and accordingly, on October 9, the new viceroy was sworn in, Peel taking a prominent part in the ceremony. Talbot and Whitworth were old friends, having first met during the latter's emba.s.sy in Russia, when the younger n.o.bleman was an attache in the diplomatic service, and he owed his selection to the good offices of the outgoing viceroy and his wife. That he was opposed to Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation was another point in his favour, while the Government were not unimpressed by the fact that Lady {219} Talbot was an Irish lady, the daughter of a County Meath gentleman.

[Sidenote: Visit of George IV.]

Lord and Lady Talbot made a determined effort to win the good-will of the country. Daniel O'Connell's raging, tearing propaganda was disturbing, and ever threatened a revolution, but Talbot thought that by devoting some of his time to the patronage of agriculture he might gain more adherents to the Government's policy. The farmers were not ungrateful, but Lord Talbot must have realized before he was a year in the country that the solution of the Irish question was not so easy as he had thought it to be. Peel, summoned to London for more important duties, still maintained his opposition to O'Connell and the Catholic claims. Then, in 1821, the Cabinet had a brilliant idea which resolved itself into this--that all Irish problems should be solved by a State visit from George IV. Hitherto English kings had been accustomed to visit Ireland in the role of fugitives, but George IV. was to come as a great monarch, the first gentleman in Europe--and, as Thackeray had said, 'the biggest blackguard'--and Irish loyalty was to be aroused from its dormant condition.

The king carried out the plans laid down for him, and he had no cause to regret making the acquaintance of his Irish subjects. He scrutinized everything he saw in Ireland with the air and interest of a schoolboy visiting a waxworks show. English uniforms seemed to fascinate him when worn by Irish soldiers, and he hummed and hawed question after question from the beginning to the end of his visit.

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'Who is that magnificent-looking officer?' he asked the viceroy, indicating the figure of Sir Philip Crampton, the celebrated surgeon.

'Oh, that is a general of the Lancers, sir,' was the witty reply, and the king pa.s.sed on to something else.

The most humorous incident of his visit arose out of His Majesty's desire to witness some racing at the Curragh. In great state he travelled down, and every preparation was made to supply the royal visitor with a magnificent lunch. The pantries of Dublin and London were searched for dainties, and everything possible pressed into service.

It happened to be a very wet day, and the races did not prove very exciting, but the king chivalrously maintained his interest as long as he could. When he retired to his room, where gorgeous flunkeys of all ranks waited breathlessly for the king to name his refreshment, George IV. did not keep them long in doubt--he wanted a cup of tea.

A simple request, and one easily granted, for in the royal pavilion were the choicest teas, the finest sugar and cream, and, of course, plenty of hot water. Then someone called for a cup and saucer. Great consternation ensued when it was discovered that those simple requisites had been forgotten. There was absolutely nothing in which to serve the tea to the royal visitor!

With prayers that the king might not get impatient, a score of scouts were despatched to search the countryside for a cup and saucer, and {221} one of them proved successful, finding in a poor peasant's ramshackle cabin a twopenny blue cup and saucer. They were hastily polished up, and with remarkable celerity the tea was served to the thirsty king.

One of the caterers afterwards visited the owner of the cup and saucer, and gave her a guinea for them. Needless to say, these precious articles were treasured by the caterer's family.

"A clod--a piece of orange-peel-- An end of a cigar-- Once trod on by a princely heel, How beautiful they are!"

[Sidenote: Lord Talbot, K.P.]

He was received in Ireland with a courtesy that often swelled into enthusiasm, and Dublin, the centre of the local administration, went into ecstasies over the royal visitor. Lord Talbot was installed a Knight of St. Patrick amidst a splendour that contrasted with horrible distinctness with the terrible misery and poverty that prevailed in the very environs of Dublin Castle itself. The king must have seen the shadows of famine and desolation that lurked behind the gaudy trappings that did their best to make the city fit for a king, but he conveniently ignored them. Monarchs have only a distant acquaintance with human nature, and so King George, flattered by attentions denied him in London except by his satellites, left the country convinced that the demand for Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation was an artificial one created by O'Connell, and that in reality Ireland was a most contented and prosperous nation.

But the ills of humanity cannot be cured by a {222} display of royal dignity, and Talbot discovered that pressing social evils could not be eradicated by the bestowal of ribbons and orders. It may have seemed unaccountable to him that when the country demanded bread it should be dissatisfied with the sight of the king. Lady Talbot was feeding with 'cake' the 'upper ten' of Dublin society, but Ireland was dissatisfied.

The country was not progressing, the cities presented a squalid and lifeless appearance, and even Dublin, favoured by the being the residence of the well-paid official set and the home of the Government, scarcely looked the prosperous place it had been during the last quarter of the previous century.

Talbot advised stringent measures against O'Connell, but by now the ministry was beginning to feel doubtful of its ready-made Irish policy, and soon rumours reached Talbot that he was to be succeeded by the Marquis Wellesley, a great Irishman, and an avowed Emanc.i.p.ationist.

The viceroy resigned at once and left Ireland. He died in 1849, five years after Peel had rewarded his Free Trade allegiance by giving him the garter.

[Sidenote: Lord Wellesley]

The Marquis Wellesley, an Emanc.i.p.ationist by conviction, was sent to Ireland with promises the ministry did not intend to fulfil. Peel, Goulburn, the Irish secretary, and the rest of his colleagues, were opposed to the granting of complete relief to the followers of the popular religion, and their selection of Lord Wellesley was merely an attempt to blind the eyes of the patriotic party. When in the last months of 1821 it was declared officially that Wellesley was to succeed Lord {223} Talbot, the joy of the Catholics knew no bounds. To them the new viceroyalty promised a speedy attainment of all their hopes, for they knew that Wellesley was a strong man, and one likely to have his own way. Quite apart from political and sectarian reasons, Ireland welcomed Wellesley. He was an Irishman by birth, and although Harrow, Eton, and Oxford in turn educated him, he had learnt the rudiments of the three R's in the town of Trim. It was recalled that the Lord-Lieutenant in his younger days had been the friend of Henry Grattan, and as the result of thirty years' brilliant service on behalf of the Crown, no man--with the exception of his brother, the Duke of Wellington--commanded greater respect or admiration in the two kingdoms, while so far as Ireland was concerned, the marquis was vastly more popular than the duke, who had a const.i.tutional objection to Catholicism in any form. For eight years Lord Wellesley had acted as Governor-General of India, and during the Peninsular War he was Amba.s.sador to Spain--one brother conquering the French and the other reaping the not less important diplomatic victories, made possible by the great battles. From the foreign secretarys.h.i.+p under Percival Wellesley might have had the premiers.h.i.+p, but his views on Ireland were unpopular, and his failure to form a ministry prepared the way for Lord Liverpool to a.s.sume the leaders.h.i.+p for a period of nearly fifteen years. Despite his opinions, Wellesley could have had the viceroyalty of Ireland in 1812, but he declined it.

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When a young man of twenty-four, Wellesley--then the Earl of Mornington--contracted an irregular alliance with a Parisian girl of remarkable beauty, Hyacinthe Gabrielle Roland, and for nine years they lived together. She bore him children, and they appear to have been happy. Wellesley, however, was growing in public importance, and it was represented to him privately that his domestic relations might interfere with his chances of promotion. To end an impossible situation, he married his mistress in 1793, and from the day of the marriage they seemed to lose their mutual affection. Gabrielle Roland was modest in her demands, and content to look after her children; as Countess of Mornington she pestered her husband to compel society to recognize her new status. He was helpless, of course, and quarrels ensued, but they lived together until 1797, when he was appointed Governor-General of India. At first Lady Mornington wished to accompany him, but he was able to persuade her to remain at home.

India at the time had a reputation for cruelty and treachery created by the episode of the Black Hole of Calcutta, and Lady Mornington, thinking doubtless of her children and not herself, consented to remain behind, and enjoy the generous allowance her husband proposed to make her. For the rest of her life--which lasted until 1816--husband and wife saw little of each other; she failed to provide him with a legitimate heir, and at the time it seemed likely that Lord Wellesley would be Prime Minister he lived alone in London. It was said {225} that he refused the viceroyalty in 1812 because it would mean taking 'the Frenchwoman to Dublin,' though a close examination of the existing records points to the fact that Wellesley was unwilling to leave the centre of political interest at such a critical period in the history of England.

[Sidenote: Lord-Lieutenant a.s.saulted]

The coming of Wellesley to Dublin Castle roused the enthusiasm of the Catholic party and the animosity of the governing minority. In 1822 a great public meeting voted an address of congratulation to the marquis, the motion being proposed by O'Connell and seconded by Richard Lalor Sheil. Meetings all over the country followed suit, and the squeakings of the Orange lodges were drowned in the popular welcome. There was a temporary lull in the formation of secret societies, and the Whiteboys, the Orangemen, the Ribbonmen, and other a.s.sociations for doing evil by stealth, waited for a sign from the Lord-Lieutenant. He gave it by abolis.h.i.+ng the annual Orange decoration of King William's statue, and instantly the Orangemen flew to 'arms.' Wellesley attended a gala performance at the theatre, and an infuriated Orangeman entered a practical protest by hurling a bottle at his head. It missed its mark by inches, and the culprit was arrested. The Grand Jury, unanimously anti-Catholic, threw out the bill, and the powerful minority followed up this blow by inspiring a debate in the House of Commons, in which a vote of censure on the Lord-Lieutenant was rejected with the utmost difficulty. It was only too evident that the {226} Orangemen were determined to contest every inch of ground with the viceroy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Marquis Wellesley]

The general opinion regarding the Marquis Wellesley, when it was known that he had no power to grant relief to the Catholics, was summed up in the lines by Furlong, the Irish poet:

'Who that hath viewed him in his past career Of hard-earned fame could recognize him here?

Changed as he is in lengthened life's descent To a mere instrument's mere instrument; Crippled by Canning's fears and Eldon's rules, Begirt with bigots and beset with fools.

A mournful mark of talents misapplied, A handcuffed leader and a hoodwinked guide; The lone opposer of a lawless band, The fettered chieftain of a fettered land.'

[Sidenote: The Catholic a.s.sociation]

In 1824 Daniel O'Connell, realizing that the Lord-Lieutenant could not force the hand of his superiors in London, founded the Catholic a.s.sociation, and it is no exaggeration to say that the people clamoured for admission to it. Every town and village throughout the country had its branch, and within twelve months it was the real authority in the land. The English Government was superseded, and O'Connell was the virtual ruler of Ireland. Wellesley, who did not approve of the aims and methods of the a.s.sociation, was devoting his attention to the suppression of the secret societies, while the Cabinet in London wrote imploring him to deal effectively with O'Connell's society. But the marquis was helpless. There was no secrecy about the Catholic a.s.sociation, and its objects were, academically speaking, lawful, and its methods legal. Further alarm was caused by the statement in some English papers that {227} every Irish soldier was a member of the a.s.sociation. Wellesley was asked for his opinion--he repeated again and again that the only way to make the country peaceful was to grant Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation. Three Prime Ministers--Liverpool, Canning, and G.o.derich--in succession rejected the advice so disinterestedly given, and when a turn of Fortune's wheel placed the great Duke of Wellington in power, he intimated to his brother that as their views did not coincide, it would be better if the Marquis of Anglesey, an old friend of both, should replace him in the Government as Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. Lord Wellesley resigned without demur. He was well aware that they differed widely on many important topics, and Wellington had never forgotten that if Wellesley's views on foreign policy had prevailed, there would have been no Waterloo and less glory. In the House of Lords the marquis rose to denounce the Irish policy of his brother, but they never made the blunder of carrying their quarrel into private life. Lord Wellesley had in 1825 married an American lady, Mrs. Patterson of Baltimore, the grand-daughter of one of the signatories to the doc.u.ment that recorded the independence of the United States of America, and she brought him a happiness he had never known before. Witty, beautiful, and rich, the American marchioness held her own in London society, and Wellesley was content for her to remain out of political affairs, save when his seat in the House of Lords enabled him to speak against the Government. Lady Wellesley, who {228} was a devout Catholic, was always escorted by a troop of dragoons to the Roman Catholic Provincial Cathedral in Marlborough Street, Dublin, when her husband was viceroy.

In the Lower House Sir Robert Peel, now Home Secretary, was affirming his unalterable determination never to surrender to the O'Connellites, and his leader was also giving a display of the Iron Will. But even Iron Dukes can unbend when they have been tempered by experience. It was the Wellington Ministry that granted Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation, and it was Sir Robert Peel who sounded the note of surrender. The collapse was caused by the historic Clare election of 1828, within a few months of the appointment of Lord Anglesey.

There was, of course, considerable humour, intentional and otherwise, introduced during the agitation for and against Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation.

Once King George IV. was heard to murmur plaintively:

'Wellington is King of England, O'Connell is King of Ireland, and I am supposed to be the Dean of Windsor.'