_BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES_
OF THE
Portraits at Hinchingbrook:
BY
MARY L. BOYLE.
_1876._
LONDON:
PRINTED AT THE VICTORIA PRESS, PRAED STREET, W.
(OFFICE FOR THE EMPLOYMENT OF WOMEN.)
TO
JOHN WILLIAM,
SEVENTH EARL OF SANDWICH,
THESE SKETCHES ARE INSCRIBED BY HIS FAITHFUL KINSWOMAN,
MARY LOUISA BOYLE.
MDCCCLXXVI.
In the notices of the more celebrated characters in this Catalogue, it
will be understood that historical and well-known events (which will be
found in the annals of England), have been made purposely, to give way to
details of a more domestic nature.
UPSTAIRS-CORRIDOR, STAIRCASE, AND ADJOINING ROOMS.
_Edward, First Earl of Sandwich_:
BY FELIZIANO.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(In a long black doublet, with the Star of the Garter, and
the Jewel given him by the King of Sweden, over a long white
waistcoat with innumerable buttons and gold embroidery; deep
ruffles; holds his hat in one hand, the other rests on his hip.
Painted during his Embassy in Spain.)
Lord Sandwich is here much altered in appearance from his
former portraits, but Pepys tells us he wore his beard in the
Spanish fashion on his return from his Embassy; and a French
correspondent about this time says: “Le Comte de Sandwich étoit
bien fort, l’air doux, assez d’embonpoint, qui ne commençoit de
l’incommoder qu’après son retour de l’Espagne.”
Born, 1623. Died, 1672.—The second son of Sir Sidney Montagu, by Paulina,
daughter of John Pepys, of Cottenham, near Cambridge. Sidney was the
seventh son of Sir Edward Montagu, and brother to the first Lord Montagu
of Boughton, was Groom of the Bedchamber to James I., and Master of
Requests in the succeeding reign; sat for Huntingdon, and in 1640 was
expelled the House for declining to subscribe to an oath framed by the
Commons, “that they would live and die with their General, the Earl of
Essex.” Montagu said he would not swear to live with Essex, as being an
old man he would probably die before him, neither would he swear to die
with him, as the Earl was in arms against the King, which he (Sidney) did
not know how to separate from treason. For this boldness he was expelled
the House by a majority of three, and sent prisoner to the Tower, where
he remained a fortnight. Thus did he prove his loyalty, though he had
nobly withstood on the other hand those measures which he considered
detrimental to the liberties of the subject. He had two sons, and a
daughter, married to Sir Gilbert Puckering of Tichmarch, in the County
of Hunts. His eldest son Henry was drowned through the carelessness of
a nurse, when only three years of age: his second son Edward became his
heir; who married before he was twenty, Jemima, daughter of John, Lord
Crewe of Stene, a family that sided with the Parliament.
Clarendon tells us, that Sir Sidney Montagu never swerved from his
allegiance; but his son being emancipated from his father’s control when
very young, and married into a family which “trod awry,” was won over
by the “caresses” of Cromwell to take command in his army, when new
modelled by Fairfax, Montagu being then little more than twenty years of
age. Indeed, when only eighteen he had already raised a regiment, and
distinguished himself at its head in several actions, to wit; Lincoln,
Marston Moor, and York; and the following year at Naseby, Bridgewater,
and Bristol; his conduct at the storming of which last named town was
reported to Parliament with the highest encomiums, not only for his
gallantry, but for the successful manner in which he carried on the
negociations with Prince Rupert. But notwithstanding Montagu’s military
zeal, he opposed the undue influence of the army in the House of Commons,
especially in their bringing about the seclusion of eleven members, and
he formed and kept his resolution not to resume his seat (for Huntingdon)
until the members were restored. In spite of this independent conduct, he
was appointed (on the elevation of Cromwell to the Protectorate) one of
the Supreme Council of Fifteen—and he only then in the twenty-fifth year
of his age; and shortly afterwards he became Desborough’s colleague in
the office of High Admiral.
In 1656 he accompanied the gallant Blake to the Mediterranean, on whose
death he succeeded to the sole command of the fleet, in the exercise
of which, says Lord Clarendon, “he was discreet and successful.” But
the death of Oliver Cromwell changed the whole face of affairs, and
Montagu, who had been on a mission to carry on diplomatic negociations
with Sweden and Denmark, returned from Copenhagen (without orders),
resigned his command, and retired for a short time into the country. On
the reinstalment of the secluded members, he was sworn Privy Councillor,
and again appointed Admiral of the Fleet (or as Pepys has it, “one
of the generals at sea”), conjointly with Monk, who was minded, as
Montagu says, “to get into the saddle,” and would not be left out in
anything; but Monk was to remain on shore, and Montagu to put to sea, an
arrangement at which the latter did not cavil.
A reaction of loyalty had set in lately; affairs were in a doubtful
state; negociations were set on foot to recall Charles; the King’s health
was drunk openly, whereas before, it had only been done in private, and
Montagu became most zealous in the royal cause, although, as he told
his kinsman Pepys, “he did not believe if the Protector [Richard] were
brought in again, he would last long, neither the King himself, (although
he believes he will come in), unless he behaves himself very soberly
and well.” Indeed, before he embarked, Montagu had a conversation with
Richard Cromwell in which he told him roundly that he would rather find
him (on his return from sea) in his grave, than hatching mischief; upon
which that mild man replied that he would do “whatever Montagu, Broghill
(afterwards Earl of Orrery) and Monk would have him.”
We now quote constantly from Samuel Pepys, (Montagu’s kinsman and
“Boswell”) who had been appointed his secretary, and he says: “Yesterday
there were bonfires, and people calling aloud ‘God bless King Charles
the Second.’” While the fleet was fitting out, Clarendon records that
Montagu sent over his cousin to the King in Holland, to say that as soon
as the ships were ready, he would be on board and prepared to receive and
obey His Majesty’s commands. He also sent word what officers he trusted,
which he suspected, etc., and desired to know privately if Charles had
faith in Monk; this was no small inconvenience to the King, seeing he was
debarred from communicating to either the trust he had in both, which
might have facilitated their designs. Pepys accompanied his patron on
board the “Nazeby,” which the youthful Admiral had already commanded with
honour, and for which ship “my Lord” (for so Pepys prematurely designated
his noble kinsman) “discovered in his discourse a great deal of love.”
Again, “a messenger from London brought letters which will make May-day
1660, remembered as the happiest May-day in England for many years. In
the House of Parliament a letter from the King had been read, during
which time the Members remained uncovered, and an answer of thanks had
been returned to His Majesty’s gracious communication, and better still
a supply of £50,000 unanimously granted to him. Then the City of London
made a declaration that they would have no other Government than King,
Lords, and Commons, and ‘both Houses of Parliament did concur in the
same.’ My Lord told me plainly that he thought the King would carry it,
and that he did think himself happy that he was now at sea, as well for
his own sake as that he thought he could do his country some service in
keeping things quiet.” About this time, Montagu was elected M.P. for
Dover. May 3rd, 1660, a letter and declaration were received on board the
“Nazeby” from His Majesty, offering “grace” under certain conditions, and
stating the royal wishes and requirements; upon which Admiral Montagu
called a Council of War, and dictated to his secretary the form of a vote
which was then read and passed unanimously. Afterwards Pepys accompanied
“my Lord” to the quarter-deck, and there read the declaration to the
ship’s company amid the loud cheers and “God bless King Charles!” of the
seamen. After a merry dinner, Pepys took boat and visited every ship in
the fleet to make known the royal message, and doubtless it was as he
said, “a brave sight and pleasant withal” to be received with “respect
and honour” and to bring “joy to all men.” On his return to the “Nazeby,”
Montagu was much pleased to hear the fleet received the communication
from the King with a transport of joy, and he showed his secretary two
private letters that he had received from Charles, and the Duke of York,
couched in the most friendly language.
Montagu had now indeed, as Clarendon observes, betaken himself most
generously to the King’s service. He was occasionally much tried by the
over-interference of his colleague, Monk, “yet was he willing to do him
all the honour in the world,” and let him have all the honour of doing
the business, though “he will many times express his thoughts of Monk
being a thick-skulled fool.” But Monk was most influential, and Montagu,
with his wonted magnanimity, sacrificed his own pride to advance the
cause of his royal master, and the prosperity of his country. So wise,
judicious, and temperate was he, though still young.
He dearly loved his profession, and seemed to take a pride and pleasure
in adorning and ornamenting the vessels under his command. “My Lord
went about to-day to see what alterations were to be made in the armes
and flags, and did give me orders to write for silk flags and scarlet
waist-clothes (to be hung round the hull of the ship to protect the men
in action) for a rich barge, a noise of trumpets, and a set of fiddlers.
He oftentimes played himself on the guitar with much contentment,” and
appears to have been as hospitable in his house of wooden walls, as at
his fine seat of Hinchingbrook, “receiving the gentlemen who visited him
with great civility. Frequent messengers from and to the King at Breda,
and divers bearing letters from the Houses of Parliament. On the 9th
of May, a certain noble from the House of Lords, to desire my Lord to
provide ships for the transport of the Commissioners to His Majesty, who
had just been proclaimed in London with great pomp. On the same day the
Admiral received his orders to sail presently for the King, a command
which he obeyed with alacrity, and of which he was very glad.”
On arriving at the Hague they anchored before that “most neat place
in all respects,” where “my Lord” kissed by proxy the hands of the
Queen of Bohemia, and the Prince of Orange, sending a deputation on
shore including his secretary and youthful son. The Prince of Orange
himself, is a “pretty boy.” In the evening “my Lord showed me his fine
cloaths, which are as brave as gold and silver can make them.” His royal
master appears to have been in a different plight and badly off both
for “cloaths” and gold and silver too, and when he received a supply
of both his Majesty was so much overjoyed that he called the Princess
Royal and the Duke of York to inspect the treasures, as they lay in the
portmanteau. The Duke of York was now named High Admiral, and visited
the “Nazeby,” (where he was received with due honour), accompanied by
the Duke of Gloucester. On the 23rd, the King came off from shore, and
entering Montagu’s boat (he having gone off to meet his Majesty), “did
kiss my Lord most affectionately.” The two Dukes, the Queen of Bohemia,
the Princess Royal, and the Prince of Orange accompanied Charles in his
visit to the “Nazeby,” a proud day for Samuel Pepys as well as for the
commander; and the “Nazeby” was re-christened “Charles” by her royal
Sponsor; and no wonder, for the first name could be in no ways pleasing
to any of the parties concerned. And so they set sail for England, “his
Majesty walking up and down the quarter-deck, and telling mightily
interesting stories of his escape from Worcester, and other adventures.”
At Dover the King was received by General Monk with great acclamations,
but Montagu remained in his barge, “transported with joy that he had done
all this without any the least blur or obstruction in the world.” Two
days afterwards he received the Order of the Garter, with which he was
invested on shipboard; the like honour being conferred on General Monk,
a rare occurrence, as it was seldom given to any one beneath the rank of
Earl.
On the Admiral’s arrival in London, he received the Office of the Great
Wardrobe, and had the thanks of Parliament for his services and loyalty.
Pepys describes with much perspicuity the constant labours in which he
and his patron were engaged at the Admiralty, showing that habits of
business were a part of this remarkable man’s qualifications, and that in
whatever capacity he acted, it was done zealously and diligently. In July
1660, he was raised to the Peerage, by the titles Baron of St. Neots,
Viscount Hinchingbrook, and Earl of Sandwich.
He was very merry at the expense of his matter-of-fact secretary when he
dined at Whitehall soon after, and “my Lord talked very high how he would
have a French cook, and a Master of Horse, and his Lady and child to wear
black patches (which methought strange), and when my Lady said she would
get a good merchant for her daughter ‘Jem,’ [afterwards Lady Carteret],
he said he would rather see her with a pedlar’s pack at her back, than to
marry a citizen. But my Lord is become quite a courtier.”
At the coronation of Charles II. my Lord carried the staff of St.
Edward, and when he accompanied the King from the Tower to Whitehall,
even in “a show so glorious with gold and silver that we were not able to
look at it, Lord Sandwich’s embroidery and diamonds were not ordinary;”
and afterwards “he talked to me of his coat, which was made in France,
and cost £200.” The prudent Pepys occasionally regrets in his patron a
magnificence and generosity pushed to extravagance, which indeed caused
great anxiety and trouble at different times, not only to himself but to
his good wife and housewife, Jemima, and his trusty secretary. Likewise
the noble Lord himself confessed, and lamented a taste for card playing.
The marriage of Charles II. with Katherine, daughter of the King of
Portugal, being now agreed on, the King chose Lord Sandwich to be his
proxy on the occasion, and to fetch over the new Queen from Lisbon,
proceeding also to Algiers to settle affairs there. On arriving at
Lisbon, Lord Sandwich detached Sir John Lawson, and ordered him to the
Mediterranean to curb the insolence of the Corsairs, after which he
himself proceeded to Tangiers, where he did some execution on the Turks,
and managed his negociations so well, that the place was given up to him
by the Portuguese, and Lord Peterborough was appointed Governor. Pains
were afterwards taken to preserve the fortress, and a fine mole built:
but in 1683, the King sent Lord Dartmouth to bring home the troops and
destroy the work, and it fell into the hands of the Moors. There still
exists a gate named after Lord Sandwich. “When at Lisbon my Lord sent
over presents of mellons and rare grapes to his Countess in London; the
grapes so fine that Mistress Pepys packed some up in a basket to send to
the King’s Majesty.” Lady Sandwich also received a civet cat, parrot,
apes, and many other eccentric proofs of her Lord’s remembrance, which
she showed to Mr. Pepys when he dined with her at the Wardrobe.
The ambassador had some trouble with the matrimonial negociations, and
“‘great clashing’ with the Portuguese Council, before he could get the
portion paid. But the King of Portugall is a very foole almost, and his
mother do all, and he is a poore prince.” The Queen was a great recluse
on board and would never come on deck, but sent for Lord Sandwich’s
“musique,” [he loved a band on board his vessel] and would sit within
her cabin listening to it. Pepys did not admire the ladies her Majesty
brought over, thought their farthingales a strange dress, and regrets
that they have learned to kiss, and look up and down freely, already
forgetting the recluse practice of their country. Queen Katherine gave no
rewards to any of the captains or officers, save to “my Lord,” but that
was an honourable present, a bag of gold worth £1400.
In the same year, 1662, “when the Duke of York went over to fetch the
Queen Mother Henrietta Maria, they fell into foul weather and lost their
cables, sayles and masts, but Mr. Coventry writes me word they are safe.
Only my Lord Sandwich, who went before in the King’s yacht, they know
not what is become of him;” which troubles his poor secretary much,
“and there is great talk he is lost, but I trust in God the contrary.”
A watery grave, indeed, awaited him, but after a nobler fashion. “He
carried himself bravely in danger while my Lord Crofts did cry.”
The same faithful chronicler, although uneasy at his Lord’s predilection
for play, and for the little regret he evinced at losing £50 to the King
at my Lady Castlemaine’s, is never tired of extolling his magnanimity
and forbearance, especially in the matter of his kinsman, Mr. Edward
Montagu, with whom he had altercations, and “who did revile him to the
King,” as was supposed; but “my Lord,” pitied and forgave him. He was an
ill-conditioned man, and got into great disfavour at Court, “through his
pride and affecting to be great with the Queen.” In 1663, my Lord leased
a house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields for £250 per annum. He determined to go
to sea once more, and confides to Pepys the state of his finances, having
£8000 a year, and being in debt £10,000; but there is much due to him
from the Wardrobe. In the middle of this discourse Lady Crewe came in to
inform his Lordship another son was born to him, upon which the devout
Samuel remarks, “May God send my Lord to study the laying up something
for it.”
In the latter days of July 1664, our gallant sailor once more put to sea.
The fleet in which he served under the Duke of York was most successful,
striking such terror on the coast of Holland that the Dutch Admiral was
afraid to venture out. There was also great success with his fleet in the
Goree, and 150 ships of the Bordeaux fleet laden with wine brandy, etc.,
were brought into our ports. In the meantime there were all manner of
Cabals at home, not only ignoring Lord Sandwich’s prowess, but impugning
his courage and disinterestedness. Pepys is much vexed with the silence
maintained on my Lord’s account as regards some of those grand naval
victories “to set up the Duke and the Prince, [Rupert] but Mr. Coventry
did declare that Lord Sandwich, both in his councils and personal
service, had done honourably and serviceably.”
Jealous of his fame at sea and his favour at court, the Admiral’s
enemies, with Monk at their head, sought for some pretext to undermine
his prosperity, and they hit on the following. It appeared that it was
contrary to the strict regulations of the Admiralty that Bulk, as it was
called, should be broken into until the captured vessels were brought
into port. Now in a noble engagement with the Dutch, Sandwich, Admiral
of the Blue Squadron, broke through the enemy’s line, being the first
who practised that bold expedient: and he, willing to reward his seamen
for their gallant conduct in the action, gave them some portion of the
prize money, (which was their due) at sea, not waiting until they had
come into port. This was turned to his disadvantage, and his adversaries
even dared to insinuate that he had helped himself, as well as his crew.
But this accusation was too barefaced, and the King stood by him in these
difficult times. Charles II. has often been accused of ingratitude, but
at least he never forgot his obligations to, or his personal friendship
for, Lord Sandwich, although His Majesty’s unconquerable indolence
prevented his influence being as great and decisive as might have been
expected in the Monarch of the Realm.
In the intervals of his employment, Lord Sandwich, who was the fondest of
fathers, came up to London frequently to settle the preliminaries of his
daughter Jemima’s marriage to the son of Sir George Carteret, an alliance
which gave great satisfaction to both families, and the negociations for
which were carried on by the indefatigable Pepys. Indeed it was a good
thing at that moment to find any cause for rejoicing, as our Diarist’s
pages are now full of the record of calamities, caused by the Plague then
raging—“no boats on the river, the grass growing up and down Whitehall;
all the people panic stricken, and flying from one place to the other for
safety”—with innumerable ghastly records of that terrible time.
Lord Sandwich was appointed Ambassador Extraordinary to the Court of
Madrid, to mediate a Treaty of Peace between Spain and Portugal. After
some conference with the Queen-Regent Mariana, he prevailed with her to
acknowledge the King of Portugal, and to agree that the King of England
should be Mediator to the Peace. For this purpose he left Madrid and
arrived at Lisbon, January 22, 1667. The Peace was concluded in the most
satisfactory manner, and the King and the Duke of York wrote Sandwich
autograph letters of thanks and commendation. He returned to Spain to
take leave of the Queen-Mother, who was most friendly and grateful to the
English Envoy, and presented him with full length portraits of herself
and her son, the Child-King, painted, says Lord Sandwich, “by her Court
painter, Don Sebastian de Herrera, and most excellent likenesses.” The
portrait of himself, of which we are now speaking, was also painted
during his residence in Spain, and he pronounces that also an excellent
resemblance.
Lord Sandwich’s letters show his steady adherence to the Protestant
religion, and to the interests of his country: likewise his excellent
judgment. He was much opposed to the sale of Dunkirk, and strove to
arrest the increasing power of France. In fact, the measures he advocated
gained him the good will of the whole fleet and of the disinterested part
of the nation, but gave great offence to the Duke of York. In the year
1672, on a new war breaking out with the Dutch, Lord Sandwich served as
Vice-Admiral under the man who had become his enemy. On May the 19th,
the English fleet, which had been joined by a French squadron, came in
sight of the Dutch fleet about eight leagues off Gunfleet, but being
separated by hazy weather, the English stood into Southwold Bay, and
there anchored till May 28th. Jollity and feasting seem to have been the
order of the day on board the English ships, whereupon Lord Sandwich
expostulated at such a critical moment, advising that they should stand
out to sea, seeing they ran in danger of being surprised by the enemy,
as the wind then stood. The Duke of York not only declined to follow
this excellent advice, but is said to have returned an insolent and
taunting reply. The next day proved the prudence of his wise Admiral’s
advice, as the firing of the scout ship’s cannon gave notice of the
enemy’s advance. Then the cables were cut and the vessels ranged in as
good order as time would permit. Lord Sandwich, in his brave ship the
“Royal James,” one hundred guns, sailed almost alone, and was the first
to engage the enemy at seven o’clock in the morning: his Royal Highness
was the next to fire, his vessel being becalmed; and this sudden calm,
combined with the resolution and prompt bravery of Lord Sandwich, saved
the fleet, otherwise endangered by the fireships. Interposing between
his yet disordered squadron and the “Great Holland,” Captain Brakel,
sixty guns, (which was followed by a fireship, and soon seconded by the
whole squadron of Van Ghent,) the gallant Englishman defended himself
for many hours, disabled several of the enemy’s men-of-war, and sank
three of their fireships single handed! while Sir John Jordan, his own
Vice-Admiral, and several others, instead of coming to the rescue of the
Blue, sailed to the Red to assist the Duke of York. About noon, until
which hour he stood at bay like the brave lion that he was, and after
giving, as a Dutch historian has it, the utmost proofs of “unfortunate
valour,” a fourth fireship, covered by the smoke of the enemy, grappled
the “Royal James,” and set her in a blaze. Of one thousand men who formed
his crew at the beginning of the action, six hundred were killed on the
deck, (among whom was his son-in-law Carteret) many wounded, and only
a few escaped. When Lord Sandwich saw it was all over with the “Royal
James,” he ordered his first captain, Sir Richard Haddock, the officers,
his own servants, etc., into the long-boat, peremptorily declining to
leave the ship, in spite of every entreaty: and when the boat pushed off,
the noble form of their commander still stood erect on the quarter-deck
of the burning vessel. As Sir John Jordan, whose duty it was to relieve
him, sailed past in the morning, Lord Sandwich had remarked to the
byestanders that if they were not relieved they must fight it out to the
last man, and bravely did he keep his word. Thus perished the man whose
noble end to a noble life, called forth eulogiums from friend and foe.
Bishop Parker, a partisan of the Duke of York, says: “He fell a sacrifice
to the service of his country: endued with the virtues of Alcibiades,
untainted by his vices; capable of any business; of high birth, full of
wisdom, a great commander on sea and land; learned, eloquent, affable,
liberal, magnificent.” The Duke of Buckingham, who was in the fleet says:
“Lord Sandwich was such a loss, the Dutch might almost have called it a
victory.” Gerard Brandt, a Dutchman, says: “He was valiant, intelligent,
prudent, civil, obliging in word, and deed, and of great service to his
King, not only in war, but in affairs of state and embassies.” We have
seen by Pepys’ testimony, how beloved he was in domestic life.
On the 10th of June, his body was found off Harwich, clad in the uniform
he had worn with so much honour, still adorned with the insignia of
England’s noblest Order, of which he had proved himself so worthy a
knight, the gracious form, strange and almost miraculous as it may
appear, unblemished in every part, save some marks of fire on the
face and hands. Sir Charles Littleton, Governor of Harwich, received
the remains, and took immediate care for the embalming and honourably
disposing of the same, despatching the master of the vessel who had
discovered the body to Whitehall, to present the George belonging to the
late Earl, and to learn his Majesty’s pleasure, upon which the King,
“out of his regard for the great deservings of the said Earl and his
unexampled performances in this last act of his life, (and indeed it
might have been said his life throughout) hath resolved to have the body
brought to London, there at his charge to receive the rites of funeral
due to his quality and merit.” The remains were conveyed to Deptford in
one of the royal yachts, and there taken out, and a procession formed of
barges, adorned with all the pomp of heraldry, the pride of pageantry,
with nodding plumes of sable hue—attended by his eldest son as chief
mourner, by eight Earls his peers, by the Lord Mayor and many companies
of London, with drums all muffled, and trumpets, and minute guns
discharged from the Tower and Whitehall: the body covered by a mourning
pall of sumptuous velvet, beneath the shadow of the British Flag under
which he had served so long and died so nobly. All that was mortal of
Edward Montagu, first Earl of Sandwich, was interred on the north side of
the altar in Henry VII.’s chapel in Westminster Abbey, on July 3rd, 1672.
The compass which he wore during the last hours of his glorious life,
and the Blue Ribbon which clung to the heart even when it beat no
longer, still hang in the same frame with the miniature portraits of
himself, and his wife, beside the spirited picture of his last action,
by Vandevelde, in the ship-room at Hinchingbrook, where the hero’s name
is still revered, and his memory cherished with honest pride by his
descendants.
“Pride in the just whose race is run,
Whose memory shall endure,
Binding the line from sire to son
To keep the ’scutcheon pure!”
_The Honourable John George Montagu_:
BY HOPPNER.
HALF-LENGTH.
Born, 1767. Died, 1790.—The eldest son of Viscount Hinchingbrook,
afterwards fifth Earl of Sandwich, by Lady Elizabeth Montagu, daughter
of the Earl of Halifax. In 1790, he married Dorothy, daughter of Stephen
Beckenham Esq., and died a few months afterwards at Mrs. Beckenham’s
house in Grosvenor Square.
_John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester_:
BY SIR PETER LELY.
HALF-LENGTH.
(Crimson Robe, over a Cuirass.)
_John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester_:
BY WISSING.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(In Armour, holding a Truncheon.)
Born, 1648. Died, 1680.—Son of the second Earl, by Anne, daughter of
Sir John St. John Bart., and widow of Sir Harry Lee, of Ditchley. The
father, a staunch Royalist, died before the Restoration, and left his
son little inheritance beyond his title; but that little was well and
carefully managed by the widowed mother. Rochester distinguished himself
at school, and also at the University, and although he fell into bad
habits in early life, he always retained a love of learning which was
most beneficial to him in his latter days. He travelled under the care of
a learned Scotchman, Dr. Balfour, whose name he never mentioned without
affection. He distinguished himself in several naval engagements under
the brave Earl of Sandwich and other commanders, and married Elizabeth,
daughter of John Mallet, Esq., “the beautiful heiress,” who, after
supping with Mistress Stewart, was quietly returning to her lodgings
when she was seized upon at Charing Cross by some emissaries of my Lord
of Rochester. The lady did not incline to his suit, although it would
appear the King himself had spoken to her in behalf of his favourite. But
this violence so incensed his Majesty, that he ordered my Lord Rochester
to the Tower, and there seemed every chance of his being supplanted by
his numerous rivals. Pepys does not tell us how the adventurous lover
at length prevailed on the lady to accept his hand, but he enumerates
“Mistress Mallet’s servants:” “My Lord Herbert,” [afterwards 6th Earl
of Pembroke,] “who would have had her, my Lord Hinchingbrook, who was
indifferent to her, my Lord John Butler [son of the Duke of Ormond] who
might not have her, Sir ... Popham who would do anything to have her, and
my Lord Rochester, who would have run away with her.” Verily, she made a
bad choice among so many.
Lord Rochester was remarkable for his wit, but also for the extreme
licentiousness of his manners and writings. He was a great satirist and
had many readers in an age when grossness of style was not only tolerated
but admired. His Poem on “Nothing,” and the satire against Man, showed
great ability, lavished on a bad cause. Of an elegant person, easy
address, and winning manners, he was, indeed, a dangerous companion, and
his profligacy was notorious, even in the reign of Charles II. He was
a great favourite with his royal master, who delighted in his sallies,
and declared he preferred Rochester’s company, even when he was drunk,
to that of any other man, when sober. In his pursuits after adventures
he would assume all sorts of disguises, sometimes that of a beggar, or
porter, or even a quack doctor; and he well knew how to sustain every
kind of character. Horace Walpole says of him, “the Muses loved to
inspire him, but were ashamed to avow him.” De Grammont said he had more
wit, and less honour than any man in England.
But it was reserved for Bishop Burnet, in whose society and conversation
he fortunately took great delight, to effect a radical change in the
opinions of a man whom the Divine himself had always declared born for
better things. By gentle forbearance, considerate kindness, and honest
candid friendship, Dr. Burnet brought the suffering and unhappy man, to a
sense of the error of his ways, and the letter the Bishop received from
the penitent shortly before the death of the latter, is most conclusive
on this head:
“Woodstock Park, June 25, 1680.
“My most honoured Dr. Burnet,
“My spirits and body cling so equally together, that I shall
write you a letter as weak as I am in person. I begin to value
Churchmen above all men in the world. If God be yet pleased
to spare me longer in this world, I hope in your conversation
to be exalted to that degree of piety, that the world may see
how much I abhor what I so long loved, and how much I glory
in repentance, and in God’s service. Bestow your prayers upon
me that God would spare me (if it be His good will) to show a
true repentance and amendment of life for the time to come, or
else, if the Lord please to put an end to my worldly being now,
that He would mercifully accept of my death-bed repentance, and
perform His promise that He has been pleased to make, that at
what time soever a sinner doth repent, He would receive him.
Put up these prayers then, dear Doctor, to Almighty God, for
your most obedient, and languishing servant,
ROCHESTER.”
During his last, and most painful illness, he listened with meek
deference to the exhortations of many godly men, and received the
Sacrament with his Lady, which he told Dr. Burnet gave him the more
satisfaction, as for a time she had been misled by the errors of the
Church of Rome.
Towards the wife who had so much cause of complaint against him he
expressed the sincerest affection and contrition, so much so as to call
forth the most passionate grief on her side. He took leave of all, sent
messages to many of his thoughtless comrades, hoping that as his life
had done much hurt, so by the mercy of God his death might do some good;
called often for his children, his young son, and three daughters,
thanked God in their presence for the blessing they were to him; and died
quietly, and peacefully at the last, after suffering terrible anguish of
body, on the morning of the 26th of July, 1680, at the Ranger’s Lodge at
Woodstock.
_Frances, Lady Carteret_:
BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(In a White Dress, playing on a Spinnet.)
Born, 1694. Died, 1713.—The daughter of Sir Robert Worsley, of
Appledurcombe, Isle of Wight, by Frances, only daughter and heiress of
the first Viscount Weymouth. Married in 1710 at Longleat, the seat of her
grandfather, to John, Lord Carteret, great grandson of the first Earl
of Sandwich, Ambassador Extraordinary to the Court of Sweden, principal
Secretary of State, and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and one of the Chief
Justices for England, during the Sovereign’s absence beyond seas; in fact
the holder of many offices and dignities which he filled with honour.
Lady Carteret accompanied her husband when he attended the Queen to
Hanover, and in that city she died, quite suddenly, while playing on the
harp. She was a friend and correspondent of Jonathan Swift.
_Charles, Lord Wilmot_:
BY HAWKER.
HALF-LENGTH: OVAL.
(A Boy in a Blue Mantle.)
Born, ——. He was the only son of John, Earl of Rochester. Died in 1681, a
minor and unmarried, when the title became extinct. With all his faults
Lord Rochester appears to have loved his only boy tenderly, and to have
earnestly desired to keep him from the evils into which he himself had
fallen. The following letter addressed by the father to the son is a
touching proof of these better feelings:
“To my Lord Wilmot:—
I hope, Charles, when you receive this and know that I have
sent this gentleman to be your tutor, you will be very glad
to see I take such care of you, and be very grateful, which
is the best way of showing your obedience. You are now grown
big enough to be a man, if you are wise enough, and the way
to be truly wise, is to serve God, learn your books, observe
the instructions of your parents first, and next your Tutor,
to whom I have entirely resigned you for these seven years,
and according as you employ that time you are to be happy or
unhappy for ever. But I have so good an opinion of you that I
am glad to think you will never deceive me. Dear child, learn
your book and be obedient, and you shall see what a father will
be to you. You shall want no pleasure, while you are good, and
that you may be so is my constant prayer.
ROCHESTER.”
_Lady Brooke_:
BY KNELLER.
HALF-LENGTH.
(Blue Dress.)
This portrait has no name in the original catalogue, but it appears
almost certain that it represents the Lady Anne Wilmot, eldest daughter
of the Earl of Rochester, and sister to Lady Lisburne, and Elizabeth,
Countess of Sandwich. She married Francis Greville, son and heir to Lord
Brooke (he died in 1710, eleven days before his father), by whom she
had Fulke, who succeeded his grandfather in the title, William, and two
daughters.
_Viscountess Lisburne_:
BY KNELLER.
HALF-LENGTH.
(Loose Blue Dress, Blue Veil.)
Born, ——. Died, 1716.—Lady Mallet Wilmot, was the third and youngest
daughter, and co-heiress, of John, Earl of Rochester, by Elizabeth,
daughter of John Mallet, Esq. She married John Vaughan, Esq., afterwards
created Baron Feathard and Viscount Lisburne, County Antrim, Ireland.
They had two sons and several daughters. Lord Lisburne died in 1721.
_Lady Anne Montagu_:
BY KNELLER.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(Oval. As a Child, White Dress.)
Born, 1674. Died, 1746.—Daughter of Ralph, Duke of Montagu, by his first
wife. Married first, Alexander Popham, Esq., and secondly, her cousin,
Lieutenant-General Daniel Harvey, Governor of Guernsey.
_Jemima, First Countess of Sandwich_:
BY ADRIAN HANNEMANN.
HALF-LENGTH.
(Blue Satin Dress. Scarf in the Left Hand.)
The eldest daughter of John, first Baron Crewe of Skene, North Hants, by
Jemima, daughter and co-heiress of Edward Waldegrave, Esq., Co. Essex.
Married in 1642, to Edward Montagu, first Earl of Sandwich, by whom she
had five sons and four daughters.
That useful gossip Pepys was very proud of his acquaintance with Lady
Sandwich and he seems to have neglected no opportunity of getting news
for his “Chronicle,” from her, as well as from her housekeeper, Sarah,
who knew a great deal about Court matters and was most communicative,
particularly in affairs of scandal. His first mention of Lady Sandwich
is where he goes to dine with her and tell her the news (by order of Sir
William Pen,) how that “an expresse had come from my Lord [then with
the fleet] that by a great storm and tempest the mole at Argier had been
broken down and several of our ships sunk,” and he thanks God, “that
unlucky business is ended.” In another dinner at the “Wardrobe,” my Lady
showed him a civet cat, parrot, and ape, which her Lord had sent her as
a present from beyond seas. Her Ladyship, moreover seems to have taken
Mr. Pepys into her councils, as regarded matrimonial alliances for her
daughters, as we find him commissioned to inquire into the estate of Sir
George Carteret, whose son Phillip was a suitor for my Lady Jemima, a
marriage which afterwards took place, and every particular of which is
detailed with a great sense of reflected importance by Pepys “who wore
his new coloured silk suit on the occasion.” He assisted Lady Sandwich to
settle accounts at that time, and he does not forget to inform us that he
was invited down to Hinchingbrook, to keep her company, “so mighty kind
is my Lady; but for my life I could not.”
On the 28th of May, 1665, he goes to my Lady Sandwich’s, “where to my
shame I had not been a long time,” primed with a highly spiced story
of “how my Lord of Rochester had run away with Mistress Mallet, the
great beauty and fortune of the north,” and he found Lady Sandwich both
interested and distressed by the news, as she had intended the fair
heiress for her son, Hinchingbrook; and even now, she hoped the match
might be broken off between the lady, and Lord Rochester, in which
particular she was disappointed. But strangely enough, the daughter of
the run-away couple did, unfortunately for her poor husband, become
Countess of Sandwich.
Pepys goes all alone with my Lady to Dagenham, near Romford, in Essex,
where Lady Jemima Carteret and her husband resided: “and a pleasant
going it was, very merry, and the young couple well acquainted; but
Lord! to see what fear all the people here do live in”—on account of
the Plague. Two years afterwards we find our Chronicler walking up from
Brampton, where he resided for some time, to Hinchingbrook, to spend
the afternoon with that most excellent discreet and good lady, who was
mightily pleased, as she informed him, with the lady who was to be her
son Hinchingbrook’s wife. He found the two Ladies Montagu “grown proper
ladies and handsome enough;” and the Countess, as was often the case,
conferred with Mr. Pepys on financial matters, complaining they were much
straitened in circumstances, and she had had to part with some valuable
plate, and one of the best suites of hangings. We are assured by the same
gentleman that “the House of Hinchingbrook is excellently furnished, with
brave rooms and good pictures,” and that “it pleased infinitely beyond
Audley End.”
Lady Sandwich died at the house of her daughter, Lady Anne Edgecumbe,
at Cothele, County Devon, and was buried at Carstock, in Cornwall. The
children of the first Earl and Countess of Sandwich were: Edward, who
succeeded as second Earl; Sydney, who married the daughter and heiress
of Sir Francis Wortley, of Wortley, County York, which patronymic
he assumed, and was father-in-law to the famous Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu; Oliver, who died unmarried, aged 38; John, in Holy Orders,
died unmarried, aged 73; Charles married first, Elizabeth, daughter
of Francis Forster, and secondly, Sarah, daughter of —— Rogers, of
Newcastle-on-Tyne, Esq., by both of whom he left issue. The daughters:
Jemima, married to Sir Philip Carteret, who fell with his father-in-law
in the battle of Southwold Bay, May, 1672, in consideration of whose
services the King elevated his son George to the peerage, as Baron
Carteret; Paulina, who died unmarried; Anne, married to Sir Richard
Edgecumbe, by whom she was mother of the first Lord Edgecumbe, of Mount
Edgecumbe, County Devon; she was married secondly, to Christopher
Montagu, brother to the Earl of Halifax, and died in 1727; Catherine,
married to Nicholas, son and heir to Sir Nicholas Bacon, of Shrubland
Hall, Suffolk, and afterwards to the Rev. Mr. Gardeman. She died at the
age of ninety-six.
_Edward, First Earl of Sandwich_:
BY ADRIAN HANNEMANN.
HALF-LENGTH.
(In Armour. Badge of the Order of the Garter, or lesser George,
suspended from the Neck by Gold Chain, Lace Cravat, Long Hair.)
_Elizabeth, Viscountess Hinchingbrook_:
BY KNELLER.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(Seated, holding a Book. White Satin Dress. Blue Ribbon in
Front.)
Born, ——. Died, 1761.—The only daughter of Alexander Popham, Esq., of
Littlecote, Wilts, by Lady Anne, daughter of Ralph, Duke of Montagu.
She married firstly, Viscount Hinchingbrook, only son of Edward, third
Earl of Sandwich, by whom she had John, who succeeded his grandfather as
fourth Earl, Edward, and William; and two daughters, Mary and Elizabeth.
Lady Hinchingbrook married secondly, Francis Seymour, Esq., of Sherborne,
Dorset, by whom she had two sons and one daughter.
She died at her house in Charles Street, Berkeley Square, and was buried
in South Audley Street Chapel.
_The Hon. Richard Montagu_:
BY RILEY.
HALF-LENGTH.
(Oval. Crimson Dress. Lace Cravat.)
Born, 1671. Died, 1697.—The second son of the second Earl of Sandwich,
by Lady Anne Boyle, daughter of the Earl of Burlington. He was M.P. for
Huntingdon. Died unmarried.
_Edward, First Earl of Sandwich_:
BY SIR PETER LELY.
HALF-LENGTH.
(Star of the Order of the Garter on Shoulder.)
_Edward Richard, Viscount Hinchingbrook_:
BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER.
HALF-LENGTH.
(Oval. Blue Jacket, and Velvet Cap. Hand resting on Hip.)
_John, Earl of Rochester_:
BY WISSING.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(In Armour, with Crimson Robe. Lace Cravat.)
_Elizabeth, Countess of Burlington_:
BY SIR PETER LELY.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(Standing by an Arch. Dark Dress with Pearls; Dark Blue Scarf
over the Shoulder. Holding a Wreath of Flowers.)
The only daughter and heiress of Henry Clifford, Earl of Cumberland.
Married Richard, Viscount Dungarvan, eldest son of the great Earl
of Cork, at Skipton Castle, in Craven, 1635. Lord Dungarvan was
distinguished for loyalty and bravery, in common with his father and
brothers. In 1642, he and the Lord Inchiquin defeated the Irish army near
Liscarrol, on which occasion the Earl of Cork’s four sons were engaged on
the royal side, and Viscount Kynalmeakey was slain. After many successes
Lord Dungarvan carried over his forces to England, on the cessation
of arms in Ireland. In 1643, he landed with them near Chester, and
subsequently joined his Sovereign in the County of Dorset, when by reason
of his services, and his marriage with the daughter and heiress of the
Earl of Cumberland, Lord Cork (he had succeeded his father in the Irish
title) was created Baron Clifford, of Lanesborough, Co. York.
On the triumph of the Parliamentary cause he went beyond seas, but he
promoted the restoration of Charles II., and was advanced to the dignity
of Earl of Burlington, Co. York. Lord Burlington died in the 86th year of
his age, and by Elizabeth his wife he had two sons, and five daughters,
the fourth of whom, Lady Anne, married Edward, second Earl of Sandwich,
a match which Pepys much approved. He speaks of an interview with Lady
Burlington at Burlington House, where he first saw and saluted her: “A
very fine speaking lady and brave, and a good woman, but old and not
handsome.” Perhaps Master Samuel was not at that moment in a humour to be
pleased, as, “bringing in a candle to seal a letter, they set fire to my
perriwigg, which made an odd noise.”
_Edward, First Lord Montagu of Boughton_:
HALF-LENGTH.
(In Peer’s Parliamentary Robes. Holding in his Hand the Badge
of the Order of the Bath suspended from his Neck.)
Born, ——. Died, 1644.—The eldest son of Sir Edward Montagu, of Boughton,
North Hants, by Elizabeth, daughter of Sir James Harrington, of Exton,
Rutland, Knight, by whom he had eight sons and three daughters: the third
son, Henry, being ancestor to the Dukes of Manchester and the Earls of
Halifax: and the sixth, Sidney, to the Earls of Sandwich. Edward, the
eldest, was also Knighted of the Shire, and then created Knight of the
Bath at the coronation of James I, he did good service in Parliament;
was much opposed to Popish doctrines, was one of the first named on the
committee to consider the confirmation of the Book of Common Prayer, and
many weighty matters, was the principal promoter of keeping a day of
public thanksgiving on the 5th of November, in remembrance of the failure
of the Gunpowder Plot, on which day he also instituted a charitable gift
of “forty shillings yearly to the world’s end,” to be given to the poor
of certain towns in Northamptonshire, if present at Divine Service the
same day. He was advanced to the dignity of Baron Montagu, of Boughton,
for his services and great abilities, in the nineteenth year of the
reign of James I. He was remarkable for his piety, not only attending
constantly and punctually at church, but having regular prayers on week
days, “as also singing of two psalms after supper in the hall in his own
house.” He was a patron to men of letters and learning, showing great
discrimination in his choice of bestowal of livings in his gift, and
“an enemy to pluralities and non-residency.” Not only did he do good
“to the good to make them better, but also to the bad to keep them from
worse.” It is scarcely credible how many poor as well as rich he fed. It
is reported that a hired coachman of London, who had been at my Lord’s
house, told on his return that he had seen 1200 people served in a day
at my Lord Montagu’s door, which was not credited, and a wager of £10
laid. It was brought to trial and proved. He built a fair Hospital at
Weekly for eight persons, with a liberal allowance, and a blue gown to
each every second year.
But this good and noble Peer fell into misfortune through his loyalty
to King Charles I., and Lord Clarendon relates that the Parliament took
him prisoner at his House of Boughton, “a person of great reverence
above fourscore years of age, and of unblemished reputation, because he
declared himself unsatisfied with their disobedient proceedings towards
the King.”