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DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND MARQUESS OF LONDONDERRY

My first acquaintance with the Duke of Wellington and the late Marquess of Londonderry, at a dinner at my own house – Some memoirs and anecdotes of the former as a public man – My close connexion with government – Lord Clare’s animosity to me suspended – Extraordinary conference between Lord Castlereagh, Mr. Cooke, and me, in August 1798 – Singular communication – Offers made to me for succession as solicitor-general – I decline the terms proposed – Lord Castlereagh’s letter to me – Character of Mr. Pelham, now Earl of Chichester.

My personal acquaintance with the Duke of Wellington originated accidentally, soon after I commenced public life; and so clearly shows the versatility of men, the fallibility of judgment, and the total uncertainty of all human prediction, that I cannot avoid mentioning it.

In 1793, when I was in high repute, most prosperous at the bar, living in the first ranks of society, a distinguished favourite at the vice-regal court, and designated as a candidate for the first offices of my profession, I occasionally gave large splendid dinners, according to the habit invariably adopted in those times by persons circumstanced like myself. – At one of those entertainments Major Hobart (Lord Buckinghamshire); Sir John Parnell; Isaac Corry; I think Lord Limerick; Sir John (afterward Lord) de Blacquiere; Lords Llandaff, Dillon, Yelverton; the Speaker, &c. &c. – in all, upward of twenty noblemen and commoners did me the honour of partaking my fare: to assist in preparing which Lord Clonmel sent me his two grand cooks. At that period I was not unentertaining; and a most cheerful party was predicted. – The House had sat late, and etiquette never permitted us to go to dinner (where the Speaker was a guest) until his arrival, unless he had specially desired us to do so.

The Speaker did not join us till nine o’clock, when Sir John Parnell brought with him, and introduced to me, Captain Wellesley and Mr. Stewart, two young members, who having remained in the House, he had insisted on their coming with him to my dinner, where he told them good cheer and a hearty welcome would be found; and in this he was not mistaken.

Captain Arthur Wellesley had, in 1790, been returned to Parliament for Trim, County Meath, a borough under the patronage of his brother, the Earl of Mornington.⁵³ He was then ruddy-faced and juvenile in appearance, and rather popular among the young men of his age and station. His address was not polished: he occasionally spoke in Parliament, but not successfully, and never on important subjects; and evinced no promise of that unparalleled celebrity and splendour he has since reached, and whereto intrepidity and decision, good luck and great military science, have justly combined to elevate him. As to his late civil triumph, I will suspend giving my opinion, though I hold a strong one.

Lord Castlereagh was the son of Mr. Stewart, a country gentleman, generally accounted to be a very clever man, in the north of Ireland. He had been a professed and not very moderate patriot, and at one time carried his ideas of opposition exceedingly far, – becoming a leading member of the Reform and Liberal societies.⁵⁴

Lord Castlereagh began his career in the Irish Parliament, by a motion for a committee to inquire into the representation of the people, with the ulterior object of a reform in Parliament. He made a good speech, and had a majority in the House, which he certainly did not expect, and I am sure did not wish for. He was unequal and unwilling to push that point to further trial: the matter cooled in a few days; and after the next division, was deserted entirely. Mr. Stewart, however, after that speech, was considered as a very clever young man, and in all points well taught and tutored by his father, whose marriage with the Marquess of Camden’s sister was the remote cause of all his future successes: – how sadly terminated!

At the period to which I allude, I feel confident nobody could have predicted that one of those young gentlemen would become the most celebrated general of his era, and the other the most unfortunate minister of Europe. However, it is observable, that to the personal intimacy and reciprocal friendship of those two individuals, they mutually owed the extent of their respective elevation and celebrity: – Sir Arthur Wellesley never would have had the chief command in Spain but for the ministerial aid of Lord Castlereagh; and Lord Castlereagh never could have stood his ground as a minister, but for Lord Wellington’s successes.

At my house the evening passed amidst that glow of well-bred, witty, and cordial vinous conviviality, which was, I believe, peculiar to high society in Ireland.

From that night I became somewhat intimate with Captain Wellesley and Mr. Stewart; and perceived certain amiable qualities in both. Change of times, or the intoxication of prosperity, certainly tends either to diminish or increase some natural traits in every man’s character, or to neutralise qualities which had previously been prominent. Indeed, if Lord Wellington had continued until now the same frank, plain, open-hearted man, he certainly must have been better proof against those causes which usually excite a metamorphosis of human character than any one who ever preceded him. Still, if possible, he would have been a greater man; at least, he would have better drawn the distinction between a warrior and a hero– terms not altogether synonymous.

Many years subsequently to the dinner-party I have mentioned, after Sir Arthur had returned from India, I one day met Lord Castlereagh in the Strand, and a gentleman with him. His lordship stopped me, whereat I was rather surprised, as we had not met for some time: he spoke very kindly, smiled, and asked if I had forgotten my old friend? It was Sir Arthur Wellesley whom I discovered in his companion; but looking so sallow and wan, and with every mark of what is called a worn-out man, that I was truly concerned at his appearance. – But he soon recovered his health and looks, and went as the Duke of Richmond’s secretary to Ireland; where he was in all material traits still Sir Arthur Wellesley – but it was Sir Arthur Wellesley judiciously improved. He had not forgotten his friends, nor did he forget himself. He told me that he had accepted the office of secretary only on the terms that it should not impede or interfere with his military pursuits; and what he said proved true, for he was soon sent, as second in command of the troops, with Lord Cathcart to Copenhagen, to break through the law of nations, and execute upon a Christian state and ancient ally the most distinguished piece of treachery that history records.

On Sir Arthur’s return he recommenced his duty of secretary; and during his residence in Ireland, in that capacity, I did not hear one complaint against any part of his conduct either as a public or private man. He was afterward appointed to command in Spain: an appointment which was, I then thought, expected by Sir John Doyle. I do not mean to infer the least disparagement to either the military or diplomatic talents of Sir John; but his politics, or at least those of his friends, were opposite, and he might have pursued a very different course to decide (for the time being) the fate of Europe.

A few days before Sir Arthur’s departure for Spain, I requested him and Lord Manners to spend a day with me, which they did. The company was not very large, but some of Sir Arthur’s military friends were of the party: – the late Sir Charles Asgill, the present General Meyrick, &c. &c. I never saw him more cheerful or happy. The bombardment of Copenhagen being by chance stated as a topic of remark, I did not join in its praise; but, on the other hand, muttered that I never did nor should approve of it.

“Damn it, Barrington!” said Sir Arthur, “why? what do you mean to say?” – “I say, Sir Arthur,” replied I, “that it was the very best devised, the very best executed, and the most just and necessary ‘robbery and murder’ now on record!” He laughed, and we soon adjourned to the drawing-rooms, where Lady Barrington had a ball and supper as a finish for the departing hero.

In 1815, having been shut up in Paris during the siege, I went out to Neuilly to pay a visit to the duke before our troops got into the city. – I had not seen him since the day above-mentioned; and he had intermediately much changed in his appearance, though seeming just as friendly.

I knew his Grace when Captain Wellesley – Sir Arthur Wellesley – Secretary Wellesley – Ambassador Wellesley – and Duke of Wellington. In the first stage of this career, I was, as a public man, more than his equal; in the last, nobody is so much. However, it is a fine reflection for the contemporaries of great people, that it will be “all the same a hundred years hence!” and heroes, diplomatists,⁵⁵ &c. must either become very good-tempered fellows when they meet in the Elysian fields, or – there must be a very strong police to keep them in order.

Whilst the duke was at St. Denis, I was present in the French Chamber of Deputies when the question of capitulation was discussed; and most undoubtedly Marshal Ney supported that measure upon the basis of a general amnesty. On any other, it would never have been listened to: the battle would have taken place; and the Duke of Wellington would have had to contest the most sanguinary and desperate engagement of his day with a numerous and well-appointed army, frantic with zeal to revenge their disgrace at Waterloo. This I know: – for I was (truly against the grain) kept more than twelve hours in the midst of that army at Vilette, two days before the capitulation. Of this more will be seen in the last volume. I cannot but remark, that if Ney had been pardoned, and the horses not sent to Venice, or the Louvre plundered, the spirit of the capitulation – nay, the very words of it – would have been more strictly adhered to.

I must be rightly understood respecting Lord Londonderry, to whom, individually, I never had the slightest objection. I always found him friendly, though cold; and fair, though ambiguous. – I never knew him break his word; and believe him to have been, as a private gentleman, unconnected with Parliament or official negotiations, perfectly honourable. But here my eulogy must close; for, with regard to public character, his lordship must, I fear, be pronounced corrupt. When determined on a point, nothing could stop him. In Ireland, his career was distinguished by public bribery and palpable misrepresentations: – of which assertion, had I not indisputable and ample proof, I would not hazard it.

Mr. Pelham (now Earl of Chichester) was secretary to Lord Camden when lord lieutenant. I had the good fortune and pleasure (for it was a great pleasure to me) to be on very friendly terms with this amiable and engaging gentleman, and have seldom met any public personage I liked so well – moderate, honourable, sufficiently firm and sufficiently spirited: I had a real gratification in attaching myself not only to his measures, but to his society. In all our intercourse (which ceased with his departure) I found him candid and just, and experienced at his hands several public acts of kindness and attention.

Mr. Pelham’s parliamentary talents were not of a splendid order. The people of Ireland never required stars for ministers; but a fair and candid secretary was a great treat to them, and Mr. Pelham was making rapid way in public esteem (though no friend to emancipation). The last day I ever saw him in Ireland he and his brother-in-law, Lord Sheffield, did me the favour of dining with me in Merrion Square. I perceived he was uncommonly dull, and regretted the circumstance much: he obviously grew worse, – at length laid his head upon the table, and when he departed was extremely ill: next day he was in a violent fever, his life was long despaired of; he recovered with difficulty, and, on his recovery, returned to England. Mr. Stewart (by marriage the lord lieutenant’s nephew) was named as locum tenens during Mr. Pelham’s absence, or (should he not return) until the appointment of another secretary. But he was soon discovered by his employers to be fit for any business; and as it had been long in the secret contemplation of the British ministry to extinguish the Irish Parliament, either by fraud or force, – and Lord Camden being considered too inactive (perhaps too conscientious and honourable) to resort to either of those weapons, it was determined to send over an old servant-of-all-work, who had fought till he was beaten, and negotiated till he was outwitted. This person (Lord Cornwallis), with the assistance of his young secretary, would stop at nothing necessary to effect the purpose; and they could, between them, carry a measure which few other persons, at that period, durst have attempted.

These fragments are not intended as political episodes. The result of that coalition every body knows: I shall only state so much of the transaction as relates to my own individual concerns. I had an interview with Lord Castlereagh, some time after he came into office, at Mr. Cooke’s chambers. He told me he understood I expected to be the next solicitor-general, and had applied for the office. I answered, that I not only expected as much, but considered myself, under all circumstances, entitled to that preferment. He and Mr. Cooke both said, “yes;” and recommended me to make “my party good with Lord Clare,” who had expressed “no indisposition” to the appointment on a vacancy. Had I not been supposed of some use to the government, I do not doubt but Lord Clare would have preferred many other more subservient gentry of my profession. But he knew that although Lord Westmoreland, on leaving Ireland, had made no express stipulation, he had subsequently gone as far as he could with Lord Camden for my promotion. Lord Clare played me off cleverly, until, in the month of August 1799, I was sent for in private by the secretary, Edward Cooke, who had been a particularly confidential friend of mine for several years. Having first enjoined secrecy as to the subject of our conference, he told me that a measure of great import had been under consideration in the English cabinet, and might possibly be acted on: and then proceeding to acquaint me that Lord Clare had made no objection to my promotion, he asked in so many words if I would support the “question of a union, IF it should be brought forward?” I was struck as if by a shot! I had no idea of such a thing being now seriously contemplated, although I had often heard of it as a measure suggested in 1763. My mind had never any doubts upon the degrading subject, all thoughts whereof had been considered as banished for ever by the Volunteers, and the Renunciation passed by the British legislature, in 1782. I therefore replied at once, “No, never!” – “You’ll think better of it, Barrington!” said he. “Never!” rejoined I: and the discussion was dropped; nor did I confide it to any save one individual, who differed with me very much, at least as to the mode of my refusal.

I was determined, however, to know how the matter really stood; and, without touching on the late conversation, desired to be apprised whether they preserved the intention of appointing me solicitor-general. I received no other answer than the following letter from Lord Castlereagh, without any explanation; – but it was enveloped in a very long one from Mr. Cooke, headed “strictly private;” and, therefore, of course, still remaining so, at least during my life. It may one day be considered a very remarkable public document.

September 7, 1799.

“My dear sir,

“I am directed by his Excellency, the Lord Lieutenant, to assure you, that he would be glad to avail himself of any proper opportunity of complying with your wishes; and that he regrets much he is at present so particularly circumstanced with respect to the office of solicitor-general, that he feels it impossible to gratify your desire as to that appointment. I should, myself, have been very happy had I been able to communicate to you a more favourable result.

“Dear Sir, yours very sincerely,

“Castlereagh.”

I have never had any thing more to do with the successive governments of Ireland,⁵⁶ and have used much forbearance in giving my opinion of Irish lord chancellors, except Mr. Ponsonby, whom nobody ever heard me praise as a very great lawyer, but whom every body has heard me term a just judge, an honest, friendly man, and an adequate chancellor.

Of Lord Camden, I believe, there was no second opinion in the circle wherein I moved: – a better man could not be; but instead of governing, he was governed: and intimately acquainted as I was with every procedure and measure during his administration in Ireland, I do most fully acquit him, individually, of the outrageous, impolitic, and ill-judged measures which distinguished his rule. As to Lord Clare, he was despotic, and the greatest enemy Ireland ever had. His father had been a Roman Catholic, and intended for a priest, but changed his tenets, became a barrister of great and just celebrity, and left many children.

Lord Clare was latterly my most inveterate enemy: the cause shall hereafter⁵⁷ be no secret; – it arose from a vicious littleness of mind scarcely credible, and proves to me that implacability of temper never exists without attendant faults; and although it may be deprecated by cringing, is seldom influenced by feelings of generosity.

LORD NORBURY

Quarrel between Lord Norbury and the author in the House of Commons – Curran’s bon-mot – Dinner at Lord Redesdale’s, who attempts being agreeable, but is annoyed by Lord Norbury (then Mr. Toler) – Counsellor O’Farrell – Mr. (now Lord) Plunkett and Lord Redesdale – Lord Norbury and young Burke – His lordship presides at Carlow assizes in the character of Hawthorn.

Lord Norbury (then Mr. Toler) went circuit as judge the first circuit I went as barrister. He continued many years my friend, as warmly as he possibly could be the friend of any one, (he had been a sporting companion of my uncle, Harry French,) and I thought he was in earnest. One evening, however, coming hot with the Tuscan grape from Lord Clare’s (at that time my proclaimed enemy), he attacked me with an after-dinner volubility, which hurt and roused me very much. I kept indifferent bounds myself: but he was generally so very good-tempered, that I really felt a repugnance to indulge him with as tart a reply as a stranger would have received, and simply observed, that “I should only just give him that character which developed itself by his versatility – namely, that he had a hand for every man, and a heart for nobody!” I did not say this in an incensed tone, though I fear the sarcasm has stuck to him from that day to this. He returned a very warm answer, gave me a wink, and made his exit: – of course I followed. The serjeant-at-arms was instantly sent by the Speaker to pursue us with his attendants, and to bring both refractory members back to the House. Toler was caught by the skirts of his coat fastening in a door, and they laid hold of him just as the skirts were torn completely off. I was overtaken (while running away) in Nassau-street, and, as I resisted, was brought like a sack on a man’s shoulders, to the admiration of the mob, and thrown down in the body of the House. The Speaker told us we must give our honours forthwith that the matter should proceed no further: – Toler got up to defend himself; but as he then had no skirts to his coat, made a most ludicrous figure; and Curran put a finishing-stroke to the comicality of the scene, by gravely saying, that it was the most unparalleled insult ever offered to the House! as it appeared that one honourable member had trimmed another honourable member’s jacket within these walls, and nearly within view of the Speaker.

A general roar of laughter ensued. I gave my honour, as required, I think with more good-will than Toler; and would willingly have forgotten the affair altogether, which he apparently never did. I only hope that, when his memory declines, (which time cannot be very far off now,) our quarrel will be the first circumstance that slips it. If I could forget any thing, I should long ago have lost all recollection thereof.

Lord Norbury had more readiness of repartee than any man I ever knew who possessed neither classical wit nor genuine sentiment to make it valuable. But he had a fling at every thing; and, failing in one attempt, made another – sure of carrying his point before he relinquished his efforts. His extreme good-temper was a great advantage. The present Lord Redesdale was much (though unintentionally) annoyed by Lord Norbury, at one of the first dinners he gave (as lord chancellor of Ireland) to the judges and king’s counsel. Having heard that the members of the Irish bar (of whom he was then quite ignorant) were considered extremely witty, and being desirous, if possible, to adapt himself to their habits, his lordship had obviously got together some of his best bar-remarks (for of wit he was totally guiltless, if not inapprehensive) to repeat to his company, as occasion might offer; and if he could not be humorous, determined at least to be entertaining.

The first of his lordship’s observations after dinner, was the telling us that he had been a Welsh judge, and had found great difficulty in pronouncing the double consonants which occur, as in the instance of Lloyd, in Welsh proper names. “After much trial,” continued his lordship, “I found that the difficulty was mastered by moving the tongue alternately from one dog-tooth to the other.”

Toler seemed quite delighted with this discovery; and requested to know his lordship’s dentist, as he had lost one of his dog-teeth, and would, before he went to North Wales, which he intended to do during the long vacation, get another in place of it. This went off flatly enough – no laugh being gained on either side.

Lord Redesdale’s next remark was, – that when he was a lad, cock-fighting was the fashion; and that both ladies and gentlemen went full-dressed to the cock-pit, the ladies being in hoops.

“I see now, my lord,” said Toler, “it was then that the term cock-a-hoop was invented!”

A general laugh now burst forth, which rather discomposed the learned chancellor. He sat for awhile silent; until skaiting became a subject of conversation, when his lordship rallied, and with an air of triumph said, that in his boyhood all danger was avoided; for, before they began to skait, they always put blown bladders under their arms; and so, if the ice happened to break, they were buoyant and safe.

“Ay, my lord;” said Toler, “that’s what we call blatherum-skate in Ireland.”⁵⁸

His lordship did not understand the sort of thing at all; and (though extremely courteous) seemed to wish us all at our respective homes. Having failed with Toler, in order to say a civil thing or two, he addressed himself to Mr. Garrat O’Farrell, a jolly barrister, who always carried a parcel of coarse national humour about with him; a broad, squat, ruddy-faced fellow, with a great aquiline nose and a humorous Irish eye. Independent in mind and property, he generally said whatever came uppermost. – “Mr. Garrat O’Farrell,” said the chancellor solemnly, “I believe your name and family are very respectable and numerous in County Wicklow. I think I was introduced to several of them during my late tour there.”

“Yes, my lord,” said O’Farrell, “we were very numerous; but so many of us have been lately hanged for sheep-stealing, that the name is getting rather scarce in that county!”

This was quite conclusive: his lordship said no more; and (so far as respect for a new chancellor admitted) we got into our own line of conversation, without his assistance. His lordship, by degrees, began to understand some jokes a few minutes after they were uttered. An occasional smile discovered his enlightenment; and, at the breaking up, I really think his impression was, that we were a pleasant, though not very comprehensible race, possessing at a dinner-table much more good-fellowship than special-pleading; and that he would have a good many of his old notions to get rid of before he could completely cotton to so dissimilar a body: – but he was extremely polite. Chief Justice Downs, and a few more of our high, cold sticklers for “decorum,” were quite uneasy at this skirmishing: yet I doubt if Lord Redesdale liked them at all the better before the end of the entertainment.

I never met a cold-blooded ostentatious man of office, whom I did not feel pleasure in mortifying: an affectation of sang-froid is necessary neither to true dignity nor importance; on the contrary, it generally betrays the absence of both, and of many amiable qualities into the bargain.

I never saw Lord Redesdale more puzzled than at one of Plunkett’s best jeux d’esprits. A cause was argued in Chancery, wherein the plaintiff prayed that the defendant should be restrained from suing him on certain bills of exchange, as they were nothing but kites. – “Kites!” exclaimed Lord Redesdale: – “Kites, Mr. Plunkett! Kites never could amount to the value of those securities! I don’t understand this statement at all, Mr. Plunkett.”

“It is not to be expected that you should, my lord,” answered Plunkett: “in England and in Ireland, kites are quite different things. In England, the wind raises the kites; but in Ireland, the kites raise the wind!”

“I do not feel any way better informed yet, Mr. Plunkett,” said the matter-of-fact chancellor.

“Well, my lord, I’ll explain the thing without mentioning those birds of prey:” – and therewith he elucidated the difficulty.

Lord Redesdale never could pronounce the name of Mr. Colclough (a suitor in the Chancery court). It was extremely amusing to hear how he laboured to get it off his tongue, but quite in vain! Callcloff was his nearest effort. I often wished I could recommend him to try his dog-teeth. – His lordship was considered by the Irish bar a very good lawyer. They punned on his title, as he had singularly assumed one so apropos to his habits: they pronounced it Reads-a-deal. But his lordship’s extraordinary passion for talking, added Talks-a-deal to his appellation. He was told of both sobriquets, but did not understand punning; and perhaps he was right.

On the discussion of the Catholic bill, in 1792, Lord Westmoreland, then lord lieutenant of Ireland, certainly did not approve of the precipitate measures wished for by his secretary, Major Hobart (afterwards Earl of Buckinghamshire). I had the honour of distinctly knowing the sentiments of both, and clearly saw the shades of difference which existed between them, but which, of course, I had not the presumption to notice. I felt convinced that both were my friends, and was desirous, if possible, to run counter to neither.

I never had disputed the political right of the Catholics theoretically: but I had been bred up amongst Williamites, and had imbibed (without very well understanding their bearing) strong Protestant principles; and hence I deemed it wisest neither to speak nor vote upon the subject at that period; and, in fact, I never did.

The Irish Catholics had conceived a wonderfully high opinion of Mr. Edmund Burke’s assistance and abilities. – Because he was a clever man himself, they conceived his son must needs be so too; and a deputation was sent over to induce young Mr. Burke to come to Ireland, for the purpose of superintending the progress of their bills of emancipation in the Irish Parliament; and, to bear his expenses, a sum of 2000l. was voted. Mr. Keogh, of Dublin, a very sensible man, who had retired from trade, was extremely active upon this occasion.

The bills were introduced, and resisted: a petition had been prepared by Burke; but being considered neither well-timed nor well-worded, certain even of the warmest Catholic supporters declined to present it.

Young Burke, either totally ignorant of parliamentary rules, or supposing that in a disturbed country like Ireland they would be dispensed with (especially in favour of a son of the great Burke), determined he would present the petition himself; – not at the bar, but in the body of the House! Accordingly, he descended from the gallery, walked into the body of the House with a long roll of parchment under his arm, and had arrived near the Treasury-bench, when a general cry of “Privilege! – A stranger in the House!” arose from all quarters, and checked the progress of the intruder: but when the Speaker, in his loud and dignified tone, called out “Serjeant-at-arms, do your duty!” it seemed to echo like thunder in Burke’s ears; he felt the awkwardness of his situation, and ran towards the bar. Here he was met by the serjeant-at-arms with a drawn sword, – retracing his steps, he was stopped by the clerk; and the serjeant gaining on him, with a feeling of trepidation he commenced actual flight! The door-keepers at the corridor now joined in pursuit; but at length, after an excellent chase, (the members all keeping their seats,) he forced through the enemy behind the Speaker’s chair, and escaped! no doubt, to his great satisfaction. Strong measures were immediately proposed: messengers despatched in all quarters to arrest him: very few knew who he was; when Lord Norbury, (with that vivacious promptness which he always possessed,) on its being observed that no such transaction had ever occurred before, exclaimed, “Yes – I found the same incident some few days back in the cross-readings of the columns of a newspaper: – ‘Yesterday a petition was presented to the House of Commons – it fortunately missed fire, and the villain ran off!’”

It was impossible to withstand this sally, which put the House in a moment into good humour. Burke returned to England unsuccessful, and the matter dropped.

It being observed by some member that the serjeant-at-arms should have stopped the man at the back-door, Sir Boyle Roche very justly asked the honourable gentleman – “How could the serjeant-at-arms stop him in the rear, whilst he was catching him in the front?”