A Viceroy's Life

A Viceroy’s Life Is Not A Happy One.

**Political role of the Castle.- Wraxhall’s Definition - Political Squibs:- “A List of the Pack;” “The Poor Be-devilled Viceroy.”-Advertisement Extraordinary. - Hacks. – Rats. – Lord Anglesey and the Ladies’ Petition. – Reply. – Lord Normanby, Frank Sheridan, Osborne, Lord Fortescue, and Lady Somerville. – Earl of Bessborough. – Lord Clarendon. – Castle and Beauty. – Verses. – Miss Roche, etc. – Lord Carlisle. – Lord Haughton.

The Castle has played a great part in the distracted politics of Ireland; it has been “denounced” and “boycotted,” nicknamed and pelted with sarcasm; the officials have been designated “Castle hacks” and “Castle rats,” and the Lord-Lieutenant has not fared better than his merry men.

The reason for all this is not far to seek; but it would be trenching upon the odious subject of “politics,” which we wish as much as possible to avoid. We may, however, put a rule-of-three sum to our readers. Given 236 years, how many Viceroys? That is a sum easily answered by looking through the list. At a rough guess there must have been 70 or 80; but I am open to correction. These 70 or 80 men, all of high position, were of all creeds in politics, according to the party in power; they changed with every minister; hence an uncertainty in government particularly disastrous to the nation.

There were other reasons why the Viceroy and his merry men had often an unpleasant quarter of an hour. The office was up to George III.’s reign almost a sinecure, the Viceroy only spending six months in every two years in the country he was supposed to govern. The same system was applied to the principal officials, who, being generally Englishmen, resided in their own country, pocketed the revenues, and devolved their duties to ill-paid deputies, which gave rise to the saying that Ireland was always “in deputation.”

George III. put an end to this abuse. The difficulty, however, of inducing any nobleman to reside “as a permanent exile” in a *savage country *seemed at first almost insurmountable. The Earl of Bristol, who had accepted the post on the resignation of Lord Hertford, declined, although he was half-way across the Channel, when he heard the conditions. Lord Townshend took his place.

Here we have the key to what followed. The permanent residence of the Viceroy was quite as unpleasing to the underlings as it was to the “exile from civilization.” These Jacks-in-office had enjoyed a good time; corrupt practices, bribes, and pensions had filled their pockets. They resolved to make matters as unpleasant as it was possible to make it to the representatives of royalty.

Their success was dependent on the character of the representatives. Some of these have been mere lay figures, holders of the bauble of office; while others have left their mark for good or evil upon the country they were sent to govern. Such men were Chesterfield, Rutland, Townshend, Fitzwilliam, Cornwallis, Bessborough, Clarendon, Carlisle, Abercorn, Marlborough; to this list may be added the present holder of the office, who seems to have got a firm hold of the liking of the people, and to have a real interest in developing the resources of the country.

There were others for whom the circumstances in which they were placed proved too adverse for any possible outlet for such abilities as they may have possessed, as in the instances of Lord Spencer and Lord Houghton, who, under different auspices, might have left a different record. As a matter of fact Lord Spencer’s first essay was marked by success.

Taken all round it must be owned that the position of Viceroy is somewhat like Mr. Gilbert’s policeman, not a happy one. Before the Act of Union was passed the Viceroy occupied politically a more important position than he now does. He was then surrounded by officers of State; he opened, prorogued (often with a high hand), and dissolved the Parliaments in College Green; and he had a Privy Council, with whom he could deliberate certain matters of finance, commerce, etc.

Wraxall defined the Viceroys of the day thus: “Lord Harcourt, too grave. Lord Buckingham, too stiff and cold. Lord Carlisle, too true a gentleman. The Duke of Portland and Earl Temple, too rigorous in observing temperance and abstemiousness. Lord Northampton, too infirm. The Duke of Rutland, by the magnificence of his establishment, the conviviality of his temper, and the excesses of his table, obliterated Lord Townshend; but he paid for his triumphs with his life.” A better ruler than the last named Ireland never enjoyed. Mr. Lecky says at the close of his administration that there was absolute calm. In the private correspondence between him and Sidney, lately published by the Historical Commission, proof is given of how great a share the Viceroy had in the government of Ireland. So too with the Fitzwilliam viceroyalty; short as it was, it demonstrates the power then held by the Lords Lieutenant of Ireland.

If, however, they had more power, on the other hand they were exposed to all the annoyances that such power brings. A glance through the broadsides of the day shows how difficult must have been the task of governing so turbulent a body as the Irish Houses of Parliament, and how, if the Viceroy succeeded in pleasing one party, he was exposed to the attacks of the other.

The anonymous political squib or pamphlet has always been in favour in Ireland, where it was handled with great effect at election times. Swift. was a master of the art. His bitter lines addressed to Lord Carteret began;

So to effect his Monarch’s ends

From hell a Viceroy devil ascends,

His budget with corruptions crammed,

The contributions of the damned,

Which with unsparing hand he strews.

In “Baratariana” there is some hard hitting directed against the most unpopular of Viceroys, Lord Townshend. The names of the writers of this clever skit, which was compared to Junius’s Letters, were kept secret at the time, but are now known to have been Henry Grattan, Flood, Burke, and Langrishe.

Another publication, less clever and even more scurrilous, was “The Nettle;. or An Irish Bouquet to tickle the Nose of an Irish Viceroy.” This was dedicated “to the Right Honourable Marquis Grimbaldo, Governor of the Island of Barataria.” (Barataria was an island mentioned in “Don Quixote;” and Townshend and his officials had all titles drawn from the same source.)

One ballad, too long to quote, is quite in the Dean’s manner; it was called:

A List Of The Pack

Fellow-citizens, all to my ballad give ear,

That we must Be undone I will make it appear,

Unless in defence of our freedom we stand

‘Gainst Townshend, that dunce, and his damnable band.

Then kick out those rascally knaves, boys;

Freemen we’ll be to our graves, boys;

Better be dead than be slaves, boys:

A coffin or freedom for me.

Etc., etc.

Of “The Poor Be-devilled Viceroy,” Townshend is again the hero:

The Poor Be-Devilled Viceroy

Though now a haughty Viceroy, I’m loaded with disgrace,

And on all sides affronted, I scarce can show my face;

Yet once behind a counter a merchant’s clerk was I,

Till in unlucky hour I laid the business by;

For by a stroke of fortune a title to me fell,

And then a noble Earl made, my pride began to swell.

Who then could guess I e’er would be, so wise I seemed in place,

A *poor be-devilled Viceroy - and *loaded with disgrace?

When once I quitted Ireland, I wish I’d stayed away;

That day was mine - but every dog, alas! must have his day.

Now sunk in a minority, Pitt throws the blame on me,

And says, had I some of his arts, it otherwise would be.

Sore galled by his reproaches, I’ve also cause to fear

Some mark of public hatred will yet o’ertake me here;

Yet what to do I know not, so doleful is my case,

A *poor be-devilled Viceroy - and *loaded with disgrace!

The censures of both Houses I dreaded worse than all

But what if they address the King, and beg for my recall?

That blow would quite destroy me; yet how to ward it off,

And save my irritated pride from many a bitter scoff

Is more than I can think on, and left without a friend,

By ev’ry party jeered at, detested, and contemned;

What step to take I know not, so doleful is my case,

A *poor be-devilled Viceroy - and *loaded with disgrace!

If the Viceroy was thus lampooned, the officials of his suite came in for even worse. “Castle hacks” and “Castle rats” were their cognomens, and the publications of the day are full of attacks conceived in the following strain:

Advertisement Extraordinary!

In a few days will be published “The Natural History of Rats,” wherein the various species of this wonderful Animal will be fully explained and delineated; with curious observations on their ears and tails, their colour and smell. Remarkable instances will be related of their sagacity and cunning, their timidity, their treachery, their despair, and their combinations for securing themselves against danger, and guarding their provisions when attacked by an enemy. -

---

“A Treatise on the Best Methods of destroying Vermin,” by John Fits, Rat-catcher to the King’s Most Excellent Majesty. 6s. 6d. Grierson.

Again, we have a ballad entitled:

The Hacks, Etc.

Scene 1. One of the Committee Rooms, House C Several Round Robbinites sitting round a table - some framing Resolutions, others drawing up Addresses.

Air - “Sherwood Grove.”

In College Green,

Since we have been,

No other Hacks outdid us!

With bows so low,

‘Twas Aye or No,

Just as the Viceroy bid us.

Prattling,

Sometimes battling,

Such sport the like ne’er was seen, O;

Hey down derry, derry,

Patriots and place-men,

Caballing on the Green, O.

Here is a pleasant little duet:

Duet

Marquis and Hack

Marq. Out of my sight, or your wig I’ll pull;

Hack. I’ll fit you soon for your haughty skull;

Marq. I’ll turn you out to appease my pride;

Hack. To-night I’ll vote on the other side.

Marq. A place and pension:

Hack. What’s that you mention?

Marq. Go train your hacks with your fiddle dee dee,

A hireling staunch is the man for me.

Hack. A whipper in - is there any like me?

Marq. Like bridewell to me the Senate seems,

Hack. The morning air like a cook-shop steams;

Marq. I look in the glass and view disgrace;

Hack. I’ll vote you out though I lose my place.

Marq. A place and pension, etc. (Exeunt severally.)

In a book entitled “The Viceroy,” by Fisher Murray, the whole system of “Castle-hacking” which prevailed in Lord Anglesey’s time is described; there is a key to the personages, and from it we learn that at this time the Upper Castle Yard was known as The Devil’s Half-acre.”

“This territory ” (I quote from Mr. Murray), “though of limited extent, has been for centuries cultivated with a devoted perseverance worthy a better soil by those who make the bargain and sale of place and patronage of Ireland the business of their lives.” He then goes on to give an amusing account of the hungry seekers for office, “wandering up and down hour after hour, lying in ambuscade at the corners and in the narrow entries, with the *desperate *purpose of seizing an unhappy under-secretary by the button.”

Mr. Murray’s pen is dipped in very acrid ink; but it is probable that, although he has overpainted some of his descriptions, there is a certain amount of truth in the general corruption that did prevail, and which the more calm judgment of Miss Edgeworth condemns in “Patronage.”

But of this ugly side of human nature we have had more than enough.

Any detailed notice of the Irish Viceroys would be out of place here, albeit a most amusing chronicle might be given of the mimic Court. I think, however, my readers may be amused by some sidelights on viceregal life during the Victorian era.

It was in the year 1831 that the Marquis of Anglesey succeeded the Duke of Northumberland as Viceroy. Handsome, like all the Pagets, he had the additional interest of being a Waterloo hero. His popularity with ladies was unbounded. This popularity was shown when he left Ireland in 1834; his departure was the occasion of an impromptu written by Lady Clarke (Olivia Owenson sister to Lady Morgan.) in the name of the ladies of Dublin:

Ye ladies all, attend my call:

Let’s write the King [William IV.] some funny thing

By way of a petition,

That Anglesey forthwith may be

Restored to us with gay days;

He’ll not say nay, if you but pray -

He never refused the ladies!

Each dame that springs from Irish kings -

I’m sure I know a dozen !-

Each royal name your rights proclaim

To call the King your cousin.

O’Connells, Dons, and Sullivans,

Ye Burkes, ye Blakes, ye Bradys,

In each sweet face there’s so much grace -

He’ll never refuse the ladies!

The Captain great who rules the state,

Thougt high so e’er his station,

We’d soon disarm, did we but form

A fair association.

No Brunswicker would dare to stir,

For they are no true Paddys

Who do not side or e’er denied

Petitions from the ladies’!

And, sure, small blame to each fair dame,

If Paget she delights in;

We’ll have him back, or they shall lack

Our Irish boys for fighting.

The King must grant whate’er we want,

And dry the tears of sad eyes,

For people say ‘tis not his way

To e’er refuse the ladies

Lord Anglesey was too gallant not to respond to this flattering demonstration of his popularity. With the assistance of his Chief Secretary, Lord Francis Gower, (afterwards Earl of Ellesmere) he produced the following reply, which is a better specimen of a statesman’s verse-making than Sir Robert Walpole’s stanzas to “Heliotrope,” or his rival Lord Bolingbroke’s lines to “Clara”; in truth, there is a certain military spirit and flavour about his Lordship’s answer which is attractive

Proclamation in Reply to the Ladies’ Petition

Whereas you’ve heard that ‘tis meant to evade

All laws and all statutes that ever were’ made

To control the O’Connells, Shiels, Murphys, and Bradys,

By sinking the men and convening the ladies,

In person we fain would proceed to the place

In a summary manner to look to the case.

But whereas ‘twould take time to the spot to repair:

We perhaps might arrive a day *after the fair.

*We hereby depute to our late Secretary

New penals to cope with this awful vagary,

And we give him to enter such meetings the right

At his own *indiscretion *by day or by night;

And unless such unlawful assembly disperses,

We shall read them this clause of our act which in-verses;

And if then the desire to quit does not take them,

The Devil take me if I know what will make them.

And this we enact for the better security

Of Church and of State in their rigour and purity;

And now such a worthy design to fulfil

That this clause shall stand first in the Catholic Bill.

(The Catholic Bill referred to above was The Catholic Emancipation Act)

From 1834 to 1839 Ireland was governed by the elegant Mulgrave (Marquis of Normanby), statesman, diplomatist, politician, and author, although his efforts in the last direction were principally confined to poems in Lady Blessington’s “Books of Beauty,” and novels of a terribly weak character.

The awful flail wielded by Giffard and Morgan Rattler descended upon him without regard to his high station; but these attacks had no salutary effect in curbing the literary genius of the Marquis. His Court at Dublin Castle was especially brilliant, the handsome but vain Viceroy liking to be the centre of a group of equally handsome men and women.

Lord Normanby, who was a firm believer in the *argumentum ad hominem, *would daily show himself to a delighted and gaping crowd as he rode through the streets of Dublin dressed after the fashion introduced by the fashionable D’Orsay (to whom indeed he bore some resemblance), with a high black satin stock, frock-coat made by Stulz and fitting without a crease, trousers well strapped under Hoby’s best varnished boots, the pointed toes sticking well up in the stirrups.

He was generally accompanied by his two favourite aides-decamp, Frank Sheridan, the handsome young brother of Lady Dufferin, and Mr. Osborne, later known as Bernal Osborne.

The Viceroy was likewise partial to exhibiting his fine person at the theatre, his command nights being marked by unusual brilliance. The play was generally followed by a *petit souper *at the Castle, the aides-decamp being sent round to different boxes to invite any pretty woman who was looking her best, or agreeable man; no one being invited who could not, as the French say, *payer de sa personne, *otherwise contribute to the general effect either beauty, wit, or musical gifts.

Frank Sheridan and Mr. Osborne were great promoters of music and theatricals, both having gifts in this direction. They sang duets together without accompaniment most charmingly, says one who knew the Viceregal Court in those days. Lady Morgan’s gifted nieces, with Frank Sheridan and Bernal Osborne, took charge of the music, which was impromptu and unaccompanied, Moore’s melodies being the favourites of the hour; the beautiful and charming Lady Guy Campbell (Pamela’s daughter), pretty Lady Somerville and her sister Miss Arabella Geale, (She was daughter to Piers Geale, Esq, and one of a group of beautiful sisters.) the reigning belle of Lord Normanby’s Court, and a host of other beaux and belles, contributed youth and beauty; while wit, which is never wanting in Irish society, had for its exponents Lady Morgan Chief Justice Doherty. and a host of others, Frank Sheridan and Bernal Osborne, who were fast allies, making fun out of everything.

Sometimes they carried their jokes too far, and once made a most disagreeable fracas by sending a card of invitation to a lady without the knowledge of the Chamberlain. The poor lady found out it was a hoax on her arrival at the Castle, and was justly indignant. But no one could long be angry with Frank Sheridan; he was so handsome, so clever, he won all hearts. His untimely death was one of Mrs. Norton’s many sorrows.

There was great lamentation amongst the ladies when the delightful Normanby had to pack his trunks and depart. But the populace had grown tired of the once popular favourite; he had made the fatal error of being too *come-at-able, *and a change was welcome.

He was succeeded by Lord Ebrington, the eldest son to the Earl of Fortescue. This appointment bid fair to beat the record of a Viceroy’s popularity, the incoming Lord-Lieutenant being unmarried. So too was the Chief Secretary, the handsome and fascinating Norman McDonell, whose success with ladies got him the sobriquet of “The Norman Conqueror.”

The season was a brilliant one. Golden visions floated before the eyes of mothers with pretty daughters, and the. number of presentations was abnormal. The vision ended in the disappointment of many and the glorification of one. When Lord Ebrington, after a year of office, succumbed to the charms of the before-named beauty, Lady Somerville, widow of Sir Marcus Somerville, Bart., the rejected ones, with no proper *esprit de corps, *were one and all furious.

The Viceroy’s popularity sank to zero, and it was said he was recalled in consequence of the cabal raised by the Irish ladies, who absolutely refused to attend the Drawing-rooms, if held by their successful rival. The Chief Secretary remained; but, alas! “The Norman Conqueror” had grown obese in person and cold in heart - he went his way unwedded.

The Earl of Bessborough comes next. This most amiable nobleman belonged to a family which, although English by descent, had done good service to Ireland, where they had settled in Anne’s reign. John Ponsonby, Speaker of the Irish House of Commons, 1779, was said to be the only man who would not take a bribe, and it was with tears in his eyes that he declared that in the Assembly there were 110 placemen. The fact that he was twice elected Speaker showed his popularity.

The same sense of justice characterized his descendant. The Viceroy, when a young man, had seen what a fatal error it was to administer an estate by deputy, as was very much the custom with English landlords, and in his father’s lifetime he resided at Bessborough, Co. Kilkenny, devoting himself to the improvements of the people.

His choice as Lord-Lieutenant was very popular. It was said that the anxiety of mind consequent upon the first approaches of the troubles of 1846 brought on the illness of which he died in 1845.

(It is somewhat singular that, of the long line of Viceroys who have strutted their brief hour in Dublin Castle, only two of the number died in office. The Duke of Rutland, who fell a victim to his desire to conciliate the country gentlemen by eating and drinking too much whilst on a tour of three months through the provinces died at the Lodge, Phoenix Park, in 1789. The ceremonial of his lying in state at Parliament House, College Green, was a magnificent one. The entrance to the chamber of death was through a suite of rooms lighted with wax candles, and hung with black, even the floor being covered with the same lugubrious cloth. At the head of the coffin a ducal coronet was supported by two of his Grace’s aides-de-camp, and on each side stood six mutes, holding wax tapers. On November 17** **the coffin, preceded by the choirs of the two cathedrals chanting a dirge, was conveyed to the funeral chariot at the great portico, and from there brought in procession to the water’s side. Lord Bessborough laid in state at the Castle prior to removal to the family vault.

One vice-Queen died in Dublin during her lord’s term of office. This was Charlotte Compton, daughter of the Earl of Northampton, wife to the wild, erratic Townshend, Viceroy in 1769. She was a sweet, amiable woman, and had begun to endear herself to the people, who were truly sorry for her early death. Even “Baratariana” gives a tribute to her memory. Her singular husband evinced his grief in an hysterical fashion, at one moment weeping bitterly, the next indulging in the wildest excesses with his boon companions. Marriages have been less frequent than funerals; perhaps for the reason that it is usually considered a *sine qua non *that the Viceroy should be provided with a vice-Queen. There have been only three exceptions to this rule - Lord Ebrington, the Earl of Carlisle, and Lord Houghton.)

His death excited universal sympathy and regret. “No man,” says the usually cynical Greville, “ever quitted the world more surrounded with respect, approbation, and sympathy. He retained possession of his faculties to the last, dictating letters to Lord John Russell and his colleagues in office.” Curiously enough, Daniel O’Connell, who had been released from confinement in Richmond Prison in 1844, died the same day as the Viceroy; but his popularity had waned, and the Earl’s death excited far more interest amongst the people.

Greville’s Diary of this date is full of the difficulty to find a successor to the deceased Viceroy, the choice being circumscribed to the Duke of Bedford, who was advanced in years and disinclined to accept office, and the Earl of Clarendon, who was eager for the appointment, but insisted upon a guarantee that he should at least hold office three years. “If these two candidates fail, there is nothing,” says Greville, “but Lords Justices.” The affair ended in Lord Clarendon’s going to Ireland.

Lord Clarendon’s term of office, which began in 1847 and ended 1852, was a time of great trial which needed a firm hand at the helm, these’ years being marked by the terrible famine supervening on the failure ‘of the potato crop, both being followed in 1848’ by the short rebellion of the Young Ireland party. Although this attempt was a crude, undigested plan, it had the merit of being perfectly sincere, and merits the respect honest conviction must always inspire, even though it leads to the somewhat undignified Cabbage Garden. No greater proof could, however, be given of how skin-deep are such effervescences than the reception of the Queen by her Irish subjects the year after the Young Ireland rising. She had only to show herself to evoke the most enthusiastic loyalty; the Drawing-room exceeded the largest ever held in London, and many people passed the night in the streets. The show of beauty from all parts of Ireland beat the record.

The Castle holds, as one may imagine, traditions of love and beauty. It was here that the beautiful Hamilton, Duchess of Tyrconnel, held her Court. Here she received the faint-hearted King James on his return from the Battle of the Boyne. Again, through the throne-room and- the corridors passed those lovely sisters whose names are familiar as household words, the Gunnings; likewise Dolly Monroe, when on a visit to the false and fickle Townshend, and Dolly’s successful rival, Anne Montgomery, who, by a *coup de main *somewhat similar to that practised by la belle Jennings, carried off Dolly’s supposed admirer-she too would have passed along these rooms on the Viceroy’s arm, coquetting and smiling.

We know that the fair Papist was often the guest of her platonic admirer, Chesterfield, to please whom she sported (against her avowed principles) those orange flowers which have made her famous; and we also know (but we whisper it softly) that naughty Peg Woffington came hither to sup quietly with the Duke of Dorset and his merry courtiers, when all the household was asleep and the Duchess *winking. *Oh the tales the Castle walls could tell, if they were so minded!

And so the march past goes on, until we come to later days, when again we have trios of lovely sisters, the Beresfords, the Geales, the Coddingtons, the Sheridans, the beautiful Smiths of Beltrae. These Irish beauties hailed from Westmeath, and, judging from her portrait, the eldest must have been exceptionally lovely. She married the Prince of Capua. Her husband’s royal relatives, however, refused to accept her as *a royalty; *and although they could not succeed in setting aside her marriage, they relegated her to the quasi-royal position of a Morganatic wife, allowing her no share in her consort’s official dignity.

(Greville mentions meeting the Princess of Capua dining at Devonshire House, where was also the Duchess of Sussex (Lady Cecilia Underwood). He says: “I know not whether the Princess of Capua is, according to Neapolitan law, a real princess, any more than our Cecilia is a real duchess, which she certainly is not, nor takes the title, though every now and then somebody gives it to her. The Duke of Devonshire made a mystery of the order in which he meant them to go out, and would let nobody know; but when the moment came he then made the Duke of Sussex take the Princess of Capua next the Prince with Lady Cecilia, and he himself followed with the Duchess of Somerset.)

Her sister, who was not so handsome, became Lady Dinorben, and was at one time well known in London society, where she gave large parties at the house in which Mrs. Bischoffsheim now dispenses hospitality.

To show my readers that the standard of beauty was well maintained in the days when the Queen held the Drawing-room at Dublin Castle, I subjoin a few lines from a copy of verses written at this date on the Irish beauties of Lord Clarendon’s Court, the lines being supposed to have been concocted in the manufactory of gossip, the aides-de-camp’s room:

A is Miss Armit, the daughter of Dick

B is Miss Borough, whose father’s a trick;

C the Miss Campbells,- with beautiful eyes;

D Miss Dumaresq, of limited size.

G Miss O’Grady, to whom we all bend;

H Hattie Fortescue, young Gerald’s friend.

U stands for us all, which is very peculiar;

V for Miss Vereker, niece to Aunt Julia;

Y stands for Yelverton, Avonmore’s pride,

And as there’s no *Z, *may *she *soon be a bride!

(A was Mr. Armit, Banker, of the firm of Armit & Borough; B was Widow of Sir George Campbell, and elder daughter of Sir Edward Borough, C were daughters of Lady Guy Campbell, and granddaughters to “Pamela.”; G was Lady Wolseley; H was the daughter of the tehn Chamberlain, and Gerard was the Hon. Geral Ponsonby)

There were other belles more *en titre *than these. Miss Henry (Mrs. Gosling), whose loveliness turned the heads of the *jeunesse doree *of Dublin, but who wisely listened to mamma’s counsels, and after her first season became mistress of the comfortable establishment of an excellent and a wealthy merchant.

The most admired of belles was Miss Roche, daughter to Sir David and Lady Roche,who had a tradition of beauty, and as the beautiful Lady Miles was well known in Paris and London. On her the following lines were writ by the naughty “eddicongs,” who maybe she had slighted for a “Lancer bold”:

A stately form, and through the throng

Was heard a murmured praise,

As on a Lancer tall and strong

She riveted her gaze.

She seemed to think the pencilled brow

Of Eastern dame a beauty,

For it was clear that pincers small

And paint had done their duty.

She passed away - far be’t for me

On Lancer’s ground to poach;

So here I leave the all-admired,

The beautiful Miss Roche. -

A beauty of another class who visited Dublin during Lord Clarendon’s term of office was the once famous Laura Bell, afterwards known as Mrs. Thistlethwaite, whose history has a sort of La-Valliere flavour. She was exceptionally lovely.

Another curious episode of this time, which set all Dublin, we may be sure, talking, was the historiette of the Duchess Caramonte Manfredonice. This lady, who had no pretensions to beauty, occupied in Lord Donoughmore’s family the position of governess; but after a time, having confided to the family her exalted position and the secret reason why she had abandoned her own almost regal home in Sicily (for she was a Sicilian duchess), she was treated as an honoured guest.

Later on Lord Donoughmore’s nephew, Scrope Bernard, a man of property, ventured to offer the wandering duchess his hand and home, which she graciously accepted. The imposture (for it is needless to say she was an adventuress) was found out too late; but what became of the Duchess Manfredonice I know not. The whole story reads like a bit out of one of Mr. Gilbert’s burlesques.

Passing over Lord St. Germans’ somewhat effete viceroyalty, we come to the pleasant. record of Lord Carlisle’s term of office, which was divided into two periods-one from 1855 to 1857, the second from 1860 to 1864. In his younger days, as Lord Morpeth, he had filled the post of Chief Secretary with much credit, - not that he was remarkable, as other Secretaries, for political sagacity, but his kindly disposition and his anxiety to associate himself with those who worked for the good of Ireland endeared him to the people.

For the rest he was what is now called an all-round man, - of elegant tastes, an excellent speaker, his phrases being turned in the most polished manner, the same quality being noticeable in his writings; an ardent lover of music, a devoted supporter of cricket, an enthusiast as to beauty, although he did not succumb to the charms of any particular woman, being one of those “chartered” flirts who never can be caught and tied up to the matrimonial rack and manger.

Yet no doubt he had in his day his moments of weakness. It was said he had dangled about the bouquet of Sheridan rosebuds, and during his term of office as Chief Secretary for Ireland his wings were badly burned in his flutterings round Lady Clarke’s pretty trio of daughters. It was “that pretty little devil José,” as Prince Puckler Muskau called her, that the Chief Secretary affectioned; but José was romantic, and thought the world well lost for love, so she went out one morning and got married to the man she preferred, and never regretted doing so.

Neither did she lose her admirer, who turned into a true friend. I have a letter of his lying before me now. It is thirty years since it was written, yet the scent of the roses hangs round it still, for the old affection breathes through every kind word in which Lord Carlisle tells Mrs. Geale that her husband shall have the appointment she wished for, “and *you *shall tell him yourself,” he says, and ends with, “I think I behave like a very good boy to you.”

Lord Carlisle was, as I have said, an ardent lover of music. He was never tired “getting up”, concerts, especially of amateurs, when he would sit next the piano, gazing in rather an embarrassing manner at the vocalist, as if wondering where the voice came from. Sometimes, if one of Moore’s melodies were given, tears would run down his face.

On one occasion, when a favourite song of his was to be sung, a ludicrous incident happened Dr. Whately, then Archbishop of Dublin, who, to say the least, was unceremonious in his manners, was standing close to the piano. The fair singer had begun “One dear smile,” and his Excellency was listening, entranced, when suddenly the Archbishop began to sneeze, repeating the performance continuously, with the assistance of an immense red silk bandana handkerchief. This unpleasant accompaniment to the melody went on for several minute’s, the Archbishop standing right in front of the Viceroy and the singer, who had stopped and was trying to conceal her laughter behind her fan; “and in this way,” says the narrator of the story, “one dear smile was converted into one broad grin.”

When health forced Lord Carlisle to retire from office, a general regret pervaded all classes, as it was felt that, although he occasionally failed in “kingly” dignity, his intentions were always for the good of the country.

But now we are coming upon troublous times. So far back as Lord Abercorn’s viceroyalty the mutterings were heard of the storm that later on broke over Ireland. On this point there is no need to touch. A pleasanter recollection is the handsome group of the Hamilton family, reminding people of the familiar comparison applied by Fanny Kemble to the equally handsome group of Sheridans: “A rose with its rosebuds.” To this handsome family succeeded ” Spenser’s Faerie Queene,” then in the heyday of her beauty.

We are now almost at the end of our list of Viceroys but a word must be said as to the strange episode of the boycott which marked Lord Houghton’s reign. No more curious reversal of the general order of things could be well imagined. Especially remarkable at a public function such as the Horse Show was the avoidance of the viceregal box, where the Lord-Lieutenant, looking very like a school-boy in punishment, sat all alone.

Dublin is great at gossiping stories. I do not vouch for the following, which, if not true, is *bentrovato. *A great difficulty was the necessity to provide some lady rejoicing in a title to grace the arm of his Excellency at State banquets, etc. There was but one, the wife of an official, who did her part nobly, and always came “up to time.”

Frequency, however, staled her infinite variety, and the Viceroy confided to his merry men his utter weariness of the same partner: a weariness, he felt, was reciprocated. “You *must,” *he said with kingly dignity, “find some other lady of rank for me to conduct”; and then he frowned, and the Chamberlain trembled.

In despair, the A.D.C.’s ransacked hotels and private lodginghouses - even the suburbs were searched; and in the end - oh, joy ! - she was found: an ancient relic of nobility; who was content to forego her principles for a viceregal banquet. But, alas! she was as deaf as the proverbial drum. “Allah! but it is useless,” said Lord Houghton, with a gentle air of resignation. “Je retourne à mes premiers amours. ” He sometimes breaks into verses like his eminent father.

The present occupant of the viceregal throne seems to win golden opinions; he has the advantage - a great one with people who adore beauty - to have a charming Vice-Queen. His hospitality is likewise unbounded; and, better still, he seems to have the real interest of the country at heart. Let us hope that he may continue in office sufficiently long to do some permanent good.

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