Head
The head of the administration was variously known as the Justicar, the Lord Deputy, from the seventeenth century the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and later the Viceroy. Before 1707 he represented the government of the Kingdom of England, then that of the Kingdom of Great Britain, and finally from 1801 that of the United Kingdom. He was also the personal representative in Ireland of the monarch.
By the nineteenth century, the Lord Lieutenant was declining in importance by comparison with his chief aide, the Chief Secretary for Ireland. By the late nineteenth century the Lord Lieutenant was sometimes, but not always, a member of the British cabinet, but the Chief Secretary invariably was a member.
The Government of Ireland Act 1920 gave the Lord Lieutenant a new role, that of the Crown's representative in the two new Irish UK regions of Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland. However, Southern Ireland's institutions never came into operation due to the Irish War of Independence. Upon the independence of the Irish Free State from the United Kingdom in 1922, the Lord Lieutenancy was abolished, with its functions being transferred to the two new offices of Governor-General of the Irish Free State and Governor of Northern Ireland respectively.
Read more about this topic: Dublin Castle Administration
Famous quotes containing the word head:
“Unquiet wanderer
Draw the Glasnevin coverlet anew
About your head till the dust stops your ear,
The time for you to taste of that salt breath
And listen at the corners has not come;
You had enough of sorrow before death—”
—William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)
“I consider criticism merely a preliminary excitement, a statement of things a writer has to clear up in his own head sometime or other, probably antecedent to writing; of no value unless it come to fruit in the created work later.”
—Ezra Pound (1885–1972)
“I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn’d over
upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart,
And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my
feet.”
—Walt Whitman (1819–1892)