Van Keppel was probably among the first who made the addition to his
baptismal appellation. Towards the close of the century it became
customary for each knight to call himself after the spot of ground on
which his principal castle was situated. Accordingly, our Walter
assumed the name of an islet on the river Issel, on which he created
his Hoofdslot, which Hoofdslot is now occupied by the descendants of a
female branch of the family. Passing over a long line of ancestors, we
arrive at Oswald Van Keppel, Lord of the Voorst, who (the genealogists
show) bore sixteen quarterings of nobility on his escutcheon. Oswald
dying in 1685, his son, Arnold (whose portrait is under consideration)
succeeded to the lordship of Voorst. He was now thirteen years of age,
Page of Honour to William of Orange, Stadtholder, and the youngest,
liveliest, and handsomest of the five Dutch noblemen who landed with
their illustrious countryman at Torbay on the memorable 5th of
November 1688. On his accession to the English throne, William III.
raised his page to the confidential post of amanuensis, and from that
time never slackened in his partiality and friendship. In 1695, on
Keppel’s attaining his majority, he was created Earl of Albemarle,
Viscount Bury, and Baron Ashford, and, shortly afterwards, Knight of
the Garter. Mackay, in his _Characters_, describes the new Peer as
‘King William’s constant companion in all his diversions and
pleasures,’ and as being after a time intrusted with affairs of the
greatest importance. He was beautiful in person, open and free in
conversation, and very expensive in his manner of living. ‘About this
time,’ says Bishop Burnet, ‘the King set up a new favourite, Keppel, a
gentleman of Guelder, who was raised from a page to the highest degree
of favour that any person had ever obtained about the King. By a quick
and unaccountable progress he engrossed the Royal favour so entirely
that he disposed of everything in the King’s power. He was a cheerful
young man, that had the art to please, but was so much given to his
own pleasure, that he could scarce subject himself to the attendance
and drudgery that were necessary to maintain his post; he had not,
however, yet distinguished himself in anything. He was not cold or
dry, as the Earl of Portland was thought to be, who seemed to have the
art of creating enemies to himself, and not one friend; but the Earl
of Albemarle had all the arts of Court, and was civil to all.’ If this
spoiled child of nature and fortune counted his Court duties as
drudgery, the same could not be said of his military avocations. He
studied the art of war under his Royal patron, one of the most
consummate captains of the day. So satisfied was the teacher with the
capacity of his pupil, that he not only initiated him into the secrets
of his strategy, but imparted to him no small share in the execution
of his projects,—a confidence which, although placed in so young a
man, the King never had reason to repent.
In the year of his elevation to the Peerage, Albemarle accompanied the
King on the memorable campaign which ended in the surrender of Namur
to William III., who left his friend behind for the transaction of
some necessary business in that town, whilst he proceeded to his
Palace of the Loo, before returning to England. Here the news of
Albemarle’s sudden and alarming illness so distressed the King that he
sent his own physician, the eminent Dr. John Radcliffe, to the
sufferer’s assistance. Albemarle soon recovered under the good
doctor’s skilful care; and so delighted was the King to have his
favourite restored to health, that he acknowledged Radcliffe’s
services in the most munificent manner. In addition to his travelling
expenses, the Doctor received £400 and a magnificent diamond ring;
Radcliffe was also offered a baronetcy, but he declined, on the plea
of having no son to inherit the title. In 1698 Lord Albemarle received
a grant of 100,000 confiscated acres in Ireland, which grant, however
(as in the case of Lord Athlone and others), the Commons of England
very properly refused to ratify. The following year the King sent some
of the most skilful British artificers to Holland to decorate and
beautify the house and grounds of the Voorst, at a cost of £50,000.
What this large sum would represent in these days, the writer does not
feel competent to hazard an opinion.
In 1701 Lord Albemarle married Gertrude, daughter of Adam van der
Duen, Lord of Gravemoor, whose descent is traced by the genealogists
of Guelderland to Alphert, ninth Lord of Bridesden, and through him to
Siegfried, son of Arnulf, Count of Holland, who died in 999.
The Treaty of Ryswick, in 1697, had procured for Europe a few years’
suspension of hostilities; but in 1702 broke out the Spanish War of
Succession, when Albemarle was sent on a mission to Holland by Royal
command, but was soon recalled in hot haste to England to his dying
master’s bedside.
‘The King,’ says Macaulay, ‘was sinking fast.’ Albemarle arrived at
Kensington exhausted by hasty travel, and William bade him rest for
some hours. He then summoned him to make his report. It was in all
respects satisfactory: the States-General were in the best temper; the
troops, the provisions, the magazines were all in good order;
everything was in readiness for an early campaign. William received
the intelligence with the calmness of a man whose work is done; he was
in no illusion as to his danger. ‘I am fast advancing,’ he said, ‘to
my end.’
To Albemarle he gave the keys of his closet and private drawers. It
was now about seven in the morning. The Bishop knelt down and said the
customary prayer: when it was ended, the King was no more. By a
codicil to the Royal will, Albemarle came into possession of the
lordship of the Breevervoorst and 200,000 guelders.
In June 1702 an heir was born to the house of Keppel, who was named
William, after the child’s patron, and Anne, after the reigning
sovereign, who stood godmother in person. Shortly after the birth of
this son, Lord Albemarle returned to his native country, where he
passed the greater part of his time, and took his place as a member of
the Assembly of the States-General.
We have not space to do more than glance at his military career.
Suffice it to say that he served with distinction successively under
four of the greatest commanders of their day,—William III., Marshal
Auverquerque, the Duke of Marlborough, and Prince Eugène of Savoy; all
of whom in turn bore public testimony to his merits as a soldier.
In 1712 he was, on the recommendation of the Duke of Marlborough,
appointed to the command of the Dutch forces, and on the death of
Queen Anne he was sent by the States-General to congratulate George I.
on his accession to the British throne. The new monarch, accompanied
by his son, the Duke of Gloucester (afterwards George II.), was Lord
Albemarle’s guest at the Voorst on his first day’s journey towards his
new kingdom. In 1717 Albemarle was nominated by the nobles of Holland
to compliment Peter the Great on his visit to their country, and he
accompanied the Czar in great state to the city, which his Imperial
Majesty had first entered as a journeyman carpenter! Arnold Keppel,
first Earl of Albemarle, died the following year, and was succeeded by
his son, William Anne, Viscount Bury. The portrait of which we are now
speaking is a replica of one in the possession of the original’s
great-great-grandson, the present bearer of the title. There are
several other likenesses in England of this distinguished man, among
which may be noted one at Woburn Abbey, that came into the Russell
family in consequence of the marriage of Lady Elizabeth Keppel
(daughter of the second Earl of Albemarle) with the Marquess of
Tavistock in 1764.
A.
------------------
_No. 6._
WILLIAM LAMB, SECOND VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.
_Black coat. Hand resting on a table._
BY SIR GEORGE HAYTER, R.A.
------------------
_No. 7._
GEORGE, THIRD EARL COWPER.
_Blue velvet coat. Blue and gold waistcoat, and breeches. Sword. Stick
in one hand, Holds his hat in the other above his head, as if in
the act of saluting. Landscape in background._
BY ZOFFANY.
He was the first Prince of the Holy Roman Empire in the Cowper family.
------------------
_No. 8._
JAMES BUTLER, FIRST DUKE OF ORMONDE.
_In the robes of the Garter. A wand in his hand._
BORN 1610, DIED 1688.
BY SIR PETER LELY.
THE biographer of the second Duke thus alludes to the antiquity of the
family:—‘It is sufficient for the honour of the house of Ormonde that
its original is too ancient to be traced, and that its first descents,
even after it became considerable for its possession, power, and
alliances, cannot be ascertained.’
According to the above-quoted author, the immediate ancestor of the
family, Theobald Walter, accompanied King Henry II. to Ireland about
the year 1171, when Roderick, King of Connaught, and many other petty
Princes, yielded up their sovereignty to the English monarch. Theobald
Walter did Henry good service in the new country, and received as a
reward such extensive grants of lands, as determined him to take up
his residence in Ireland; and from that time forth the fortunes of the
family have been bound up with those of the sister island. The post of
Chief Butler (hereditary) was also assigned him, with a further grant
of what was called ‘the prisage of wine,’ which entitled Theobald and
his descendants to one tun of wine out of nine brought by any ship
into Irish ports. In 1315 Edmund le Botillier (it is an open question
if the name were derived from the office) was created Earl of Carrick,
as a recompense for his loyal services to Edward II. He was Guardian
and Governor of the kingdom of Ireland; and henceforth his descendants
in the succeeding reigns were almost invariably connected with the
government of that country, whether as Lords-Deputy, Lords-Justices,
or Lords-Lieutenant.
Lord Carrick’s son married the King’s cousin, and was in 1322 created
Earl of Ormonde. He had also the rights of a Palatine in the county of
Tipperary conferred on him,—rights which were taken away and restored
again and again in the troubled times of that ever troubled country.
Few families in any part of the world have been more remarkable for
the vicissitudes of fortune than the Butlers. The seventh Earl of
Ormonde died without sons, and left his two daughters very large
fortunes; the youngest married Sir William Boleyn, and was grandmother
to Queen Anne of that name.
Sir Piers Butler, a distant relative, became heir to the Irish
estates, but King Henry VIII., at the instigation of his
father-in-law, Sir Thomas Boleyn, prevailed upon him (chiefly, it is
said, by conferring on him the title of Ossory) to relinquish the
earldom of Ormonde in favour of the said Sir Thomas, on whose death,
however, a few years afterwards, the rightful Earl of Ormonde resumed
his title. We are induced to give these details in consequence of the
strange coincidences which befell the heads of this family in
different reigns.
Thomas, the tenth Earl, a man of undaunted courage, who began his
military career at an early age, was a great favourite with Queen
Elizabeth, and for a time with King James I. ‘His courage in the field
and his spirit in private occurrences were remarkable. He always held
the Earl of Leicester at defiance, and did not scruple to charge him
to the Queen as a knave and coward.’ There is an amusing anecdote told
of the two noblemen meeting one day at Court, in the antechamber.
After the usual exchange of civilities, says Lord Leicester, ‘My Lord
Ormonde, I dreamed of you last night.’ ‘What could you dream of me?’
inquired the other. ‘That I gave you a box on the ear,’ was the
rejoinder. ‘Oh,’ exclaimed Lord Ormonde; ‘do you not know that dreams
are always interpreted by contraries?’ and with that he bestowed a
hearty cuff on the Royal favourite. This one-sided satisfaction
entailed on Ormonde a visit to the Tower; but he was soon released.
The Queen had a great fancy for him, in spite of Lord Leicester’s
enmity, and used to call him her ‘black husband.’ His dark complexion
had gained for him in Ireland the nickname of ‘Dhuiv,’ or ‘the Black.’
He was three times married: first to Elizabeth, daughter and heiress
to Thomas, Lord Berkeley; secondly to Elizabeth, daughter of Lord
Sheffield; and thirdly to Ellen, daughter of Lord Barry and widow of
Lord Poer, whom he married when he was old and blind. He had children
by his second wife only,—a son, who died in boyhood, and a daughter,
Elizabeth. This young lady married, by her father’s wish, her cousin,
Lord Tulleophelim, who died very shortly afterwards without children.
King James I. obliged the aged Earl of Ormonde, much against his will,
to bestow the hand of his widowed daughter on one of his own Scotch
favourites, Sir Richard Preston, whom he first created Baron Dingwall,
and afterwards, in (what his Majesty was pleased to call) right of his
wife, Earl of Desmond, an act which caused universal dissatisfaction
in Ireland,—so time-honoured a title to be bestowed on an alien. Not
content with this deed of injustice, James ordained that Preston
should become possessed of the bulk of the Irish property which
Thomas, Earl of Ormonde, had bequeathed to his successors in the
title. At his death in 1614, the King used every endeavour to persuade
Sir Walter Butler (who became eleventh Earl) to yield up his rights in
favour of Lord Desmond, but, with the true spirit of his race, he
showed a bold front to the tyrant, in consequence of which he was
thrown into the Fleet prison, where he remained in captivity for eight
years. His eldest son, Lord Thurles, married Elizabeth, daughter of
Sir John Poyntz, of Iron Acton, county Gloucester, by whom he had
James, first Duke of Ormonde, and several other children.
The subject of our notice was born in 1610 at Newcastle House, in
Clerkenwell, belonging to the Duke of that title, but inhabited at the
time by Lady Thurles’s father, Sir John Poyntz. The infant was nursed
by a carpenter’s wife at Hatfield, and remained in her charge, when
his parents returned to Ireland, till he was three years old, when
they sent for him; and the Duke used in after years to relate that he
could call to mind, even at that tender age, how he had been carried
in arms through the streets of Bristol, and what he then noticed on
the bridge. He appears to have had a most retentive memory, for he
also recollected being taken to visit Thomas, the aged Earl of
Ormonde, who was living at his estate of Carrick-upon-Suir, and who
felt a great interest in the child, not only as his future heir, but
on account of his former friendship with Sir John Poyntz. The Duke
often spoke in his later life of the impression his kinsman had made
on him: a grand old man, with sightless eyes and long white beard,
wearing his George round his neck, which he never laid aside, whether
sitting in his chair or lying on his bed. He would take the boy on his
knees and caress him, this last year of his life, for Earl Thomas died
in 1614. James lived on in Ireland with his father and mother, till
the unfortunate death of the former, who was drowned off the Skerries
on his voyage to England in 1619, _v.p._
The little Lord Thurles accompanied his mother to London the following
year, and went to school at Finchley, under a Roman Catholic priest,
who educated him in his own creed,—the actual Earl of Ormonde and all
the younger branches of the family adhering to the Church of Rome. But
Thurles was a ward of the Crown, and the King removed him from
Finchley, and transferred him to Lambeth Palace, to be brought up as a
Protestant, under Abbott, Archbishop of Canterbury. The Primate
troubled himself very little as regarded the youth’s education,
probably because he received no allowance whatever, even for the
maintenance of his pupil. To the young Lord himself James only doled
out the paltry sum of forty pounds a year for all expenses. The
biographer of the second Duke, in alluding to these circumstances,
says that ‘intelligence found means to supply the want of education.’
Even after his marriage Lord Thurles studied Latin, from his uncle’s
domestic chaplain, when on a visit to Iron Acton. He also acquired a
knowledge of the Irish language, which he found of the greatest
service to him during his government, enabling him to communicate
personally with the Irish chiefs. He became, indeed, in every way a
most accomplished gentleman; his grandfather, the stout-hearted Earl
of Ormonde, had endured imprisonment and hardship of all kinds rather
than submit to the unjust demands of the King, or surrender his lawful
rights, but at the expiration of eight years he was released, and a
great portion of his estates restored to him,—upon which he hired a
house in Drury Lane, and sent for his grandson from Lambeth Palace to
come and reside with him. Lord Thurles was delighted with his
emancipation from the dull atmosphere of the Primate’s roof. He mixed
in all the gaieties of the town, and took especial pleasure in
theatrical representations and in the society of the leading members
of the profession. He was also a frequent attendant at Court, by the
express wish of Lord Ormonde, who left him in London to make his way
in the world, while he returned to Ireland to look after the property,
which had been long neglected. The circumstances attending the
marriage and courtship of Lord Thurles were of so romantic a nature,
that we are induced to give them in detail, although reluctant to
record a stumble on the threshold of so noble a career. It was at
Court that he first saw his cousin, Lady Elizabeth Preston, daughter
to Lord Dingwall and Desmond, already mentioned, by Lady Elizabeth
Butler. She was a ward of the King’s, who had placed her under the
care of Henry, Earl of Holland, who held an office at Court. Though
very young, she had a perfect knowledge of all the family disputes,
and had been much influenced in Lord Thurles’s favour by the advice of
her kinsman, Lord Mountgarret, who not only highly commended the young
man, but pointed out to the heiress that their union would be a means
of reconciling all former difficulties. When the cousins met at Court,
Elizabeth ‘liked the person of the young Lord, which was very
handsome, his mien and manner witty, insinuating; and the vivacity of
his parts, with the sprightly turn of his wit, made the conversation
most pleasing to her.’ This was remarked on, and the King admonished
Lord Thurles not to meddle with his ward. The secret of this was that
the Duke of Buckingham had arranged with Lord Desmond that his nephew,
Lord Feilding, should espouse Lady Elizabeth Preston, with a remainder
to their heirs of her father’s titles. The said Earl of Desmond had
also received from the King the power over the wardship and marriage
of Lord Thurles, so that there seemed but little hope of the union on
which the cousins had set their hearts. But Elizabeth had the spirit
of her race. Her affections were irrevocably fixed, and she was in a
humour to say with the beautiful bride of Van Artevelde:—
‘Me shall no earthly potentate or prince
Toss, like a morsel of his broken meat,
To any suppliant: be they advised
I am in wardship to the King of kings,
God and my heart alone dispose of me.’
Now Lord Holland was inclined to further Lord Thurles’s suit, actuated
thereto, it was said, by pecuniary inducements; but the Royal commands
were not to be disobeyed, openly at least. There was one in the house,
however, who was in a position to assist the lovers, and that was Lady
Isabella Rich, Lord Holland’s daughter, Elizabeth’s chosen friend, and
sister in all but name,—a lovely, sharp-witted girl of her own age.
She admitted Lord Thurles every day, at all hours, in a clandestine
manner; nor did her parents object or interfere, but allowed her to
make a feint of herself receiving the young man’s addresses; and
implicit trust was placed by all parties in Isabella’s rectitude.
Alas for the compact! which we must believe was begun in good
faith. Lord Thurles, as we have said, was young, handsome,
agreeable,—captivating, in fact, and the _rôle_ of confidante is
proverbially dangerous. In an evil hour he forgot his loyalty to
his betrothed, and Isabella forgot her friend, herself, her duty,
and all but her infatuation for the man who was playing a double
part by the two girls. Few romances can outdo this real history in
sensational incident. Lord Desmond was drowned about the same time
as his wife died, and the latter left as her last injunction that
Elizabeth should marry her cousin, and thus restore the property
to the rightful branch,—for Lady Desmond had never been easy in
her mind over these unlawful acquisitions. Buckingham was
assassinated, and King Charles I. gave the Royal consent to the
union of the cousins; ‘and so,’ says the biographer of the great
Duke of Ormonde (who, by the way, makes very light of this
episode), ‘the marriage was joyously celebrated, and everybody
content.’ We are not informed how the unfortunate Lady Isabella
fared on the occasion; her content could not have been great; but
the _dénouement_ remains to be told, and though, as a matter of
dates, it should come much later, we think it advisable to finish
the concluding acts of the drama in this place.
Several years afterwards, when Lord Ormonde was in Paris, he went to
the Academy to visit a handsome and intelligent youth, whom he had
sent thither for his education; whereupon he sat down, and wrote a
long description of the boy to Lady Isabella (then the wife of Sir
James Thynne of Longleat), being a subject in which they had a common
interest. As ill-luck would have it, he at the same time indited a
letter to his wife, and misdirected the covers. While Lady Ormonde was
making the discovery that she had been cruelly deceived and betrayed
by the two people she at that time loved best in the world, Lady
Isabella came in, and found her reading the fatal letter.
Tears, sobs, caresses—an agitating scene—ensued. Isabella humbled
herself before the woman she had so grievously injured, and sought by
every means of fascination that she possessed, to soften her just
resentment. Lady Ormonde, generous and high-minded, almost beyond
belief, raised the suppliant, who was kneeling at her feet, with the
promise not only of forgiveness, but of unchanging friendship,—a
promise nobly kept, as we shall see later. Scarcely more marvellous is
the fact, for we cannot doubt the evidence, that Lady Ormonde not only
never upbraided her husband, but from that day kept a profound silence
on the subject. Nor was this all. Some time afterwards, when Lady
Ormonde was residing with her children at Caen, she received a letter
from Lady Isabella, who had again got herself into hot water,
recalling her promise of unchanging friendship, and asking for
shelter. The generous-hearted exile not only welcomed her old
companion to share her small house and straitened means, but allowed
her to remain for nearly two years under her roof, during which time
Lord Ormonde was a constant visitor. The destinies of the two women,
who had been early friends, but whose characters were diametrically
opposed, were strangely entangled,—Lady Isabella, being described in a
contemporary journal as ‘one of those rattle-brained ladies,’ was most
eccentric, to say the least of it, and full of ‘strange vagaries;’
while Lady Ormonde was remarkable for sound sense and judgment, and
for her dignified and stately deportment. We make an extract bearing
on this subject from the Life of Roger Boyle, Lord Broghill,
afterwards Earl of Orrery. This nobleman, who, like his father and his
brothers, was a zealous Royalist, was surprised one day at receiving a
summons from the Protector, who bluntly offered him a high command in
the army in Ireland under Government. Broghill gave for answer that
nothing should induce him to take arms against the King, his master.
‘No one asked you to do so,’ was the angry retort; ‘I offer you the
alternative of serving England against the Irish insurgents, or
proceeding without delay to the Tower of London.’