her reign she created him Marquis of Monthermer, and Duke of Montagu.
His first wife died in 1690; when he lost no time in soliciting the
hand of the relict of Christopher Monk, second Duke of Albemarle, and
daughter and sole heiress of Henry Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle. He
does not appear to have been so disinterested in his views where money
was concerned as Collins would have us believe; since this lady, in
spite of her enormous wealth, was a confirmed lunatic, and an obstacle
to their union existed in the fact that she had announced her resolution
of wedding no one but a sovereign. Montagu was accordingly presented
to her as the Emperor of China, and after a short period of eccentric
wooing they were married. Until her death the poor maniac was addressed
as Empress of China, and served on the bended knee. Lord Ross wished to
marry her, and when the Duke prevailed in his suit wrote the following
lines:—
“Insulting Rival, never boast
Thy conquest lately won;
No wonder if her heart was lost,
Her senses first were gone.
From one that’s under Bedlam’s laws
What glory can be had?
For love indeed was not the cause,
It proves that she was mad.”
She survived her husband twenty-six years, and died at Newcastle House in
Clerkenwell, being interred in Westminster Abbey, as became her Imperial
dignity.
Ralph, Duke of Montagu was, as his picture shows, of a middle height,
inclining to fat, and of a dark complexion. He was a man of pleasure, and
self-indulgence, but of refined taste in architecture, and his gardens
at Boughton were world famed. On one occasion he was showing them to the
Duke of Marlborough, who said he believed the water-works were the finest
in the world. “They are not to be compared,” replied the courteous host,
“to your Grace’s fireworks.” St. Evremond, who was a constant visitor at
Boughton and in London, and who met the Duke frequently at the Duchesse
de Mazarin’s little salon in Chelsea, was a pensioner on his bounty, and
is never tired of extolling his hospitality and generosity, also the
charms of the Saturday and Wednesday receptions, at Montagu House.
“On admire avec raison
Votre superbe maison,
A tous étrangers ouverte;
Les jets d’eau de Boughton,
Les meubles de Ditton, etc.”
He says the cascade at Boughton, though smaller than the one at
Versailles, is more beautiful. The old _gourmet_ is never tired of
praising the good living and extolling the comestibles that the Duke
had sent him, and he says: “J’ai été à Boughton voir milord, la bonne
compagnie, l’érudition, les perdreaux, les truffes;” in fact all that
had charms for him in the absence of the Duchesse de Mazarin herself, to
whom he writes. The two men met frequently at the house of the beautiful
Hortense, one of whose most fervent admirers was the Duke of Montagu.
To her he was most generous, for in one of her letters she says that if
Montagu discovered you liked or admired a thing, you need take no more
thought about it: “‘Quelque dépense qu’il faille faire, quelque soin,
quelque peine qu’il faut employer pour l’avoir, la chose ne vous manquera
pas.’ Ce sont les propres paroles de la feue Duchesse de Mazarin.” But it
seems that there was some interruption in their intimacy, for in one of
Algernon Sidney’s letters there is this passage: “Montagu goes no more
to the Duchesse de Mazarin; whether his love or his politics proved too
pressing, I know not, but the town says he is forbid the house.”
His Grace departed this life on the 9th of March, 1708, at Montagu House
in Bloomsbury, afterwards the British Museum.
_Anne, Viscountess Hinchingbrook_:
BY MRS. BEALE.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(Seated. Light Auburn Hair, Dove-coloured Dress. Pearl
Ornaments. Holding a Flower in the Left Hand.)
Lady Anne Boyle was the fourth daughter of Richard, second Earl of Cork
and first Earl of Burlington, by Lady Elizabeth Clifford, only daughter
and heiress of the fifth Earl of Cumberland. In 1667 she married Viscount
Hinchingbrook, eldest son of the first Earl of Sandwich, by whom she
had two sons and one daughter. Pepys seemed well contented with the
marriage for his patron’s son, though he is dissatisfied at not having
a favour sent him, and Lady Sandwich was so much pleased with her new
daughter-in-law as apparently to be consoled for her first born having
lost the chance of marrying the great heiress, Mistress Mallet.
The first time Pepys saw her at Lord Crewe’s he saluted her and invited
her to his house; he thought her mighty pleasant and good humoured, but
neither did he count her a beauty or ugly, but a comely lady; and when
she accepted his hospitality next day he found her “a sweet natured
and well disposed lady, a lover of books and pictures, and of good
understanding;” and he goes on to visit her and her lord afterwards at
Burlington House next to Clarendon House, which he was glad to see for
the first time.
Lady Hinchingbrook and her sister Henrietta, Countess of Rochester,
were undoubtedly shining lights of modesty, and domestic virtue in this
profligate age.
She was buried in the family vault at Barnwell, where a touching
inscription records her many virtues, and the regret her death occasioned.
_Elizabeth Popham, Viscountess Hinchingbrook_:
BY HIGHMORE.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(In an Orange Gown, Lace Tippet and Ruffles. Holding a Fan. A
Blue Hood tied under the Chin.)
_The Honourable Mary Montagu_:
BY WHOOD.
FULL-LENGTH.
(As a Child: in a Rich Crimson Dress, embroidered with Silver.
White Apron, Lace Cuffs, and Stomacher. Holding a Basket of
Cherries, with which she is Feeding a Parrot.)
The eldest daughter of Edward Richard, Viscount Hinchingbrook, by
Elizabeth Popham. Died in childhood.
_Louisa, Sixth Countess of Sandwich_:
BY SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE.
FULL-LENGTH.
(In a White Dress with Brown Drapery. Leaning on an Anchor.)
Born, 1781. Died, 1862. The only daughter of Armar Corry, first Earl
of Belmore, by Harriet, eldest daughter and co-heiress of the second
Earl of Buckinghamshire. Married in 1804, George, Earl of Sandwich, who
died at Rome; by whom she had John William, seventh Earl; Harriet, Lady
Ashburton, and Caroline, Comtesse Walewska.
_Pendant to the First Earl of Sandwich_:
BY VAN ZOORST.
PORTRAIT OF A YOUTH IN BLACK. UNKNOWN.
(Brown Hair and Eyes. Small Moustache.)
_Edward, First Earl of Sandwich_:
BY VAN ZOORST.
HALF-LENGTH.
(Purple Vest, Broad Belt, Buckle on Shoulder.)
_Elizabeth, Countess of Sandwich_:
BY WISSING.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(Loose Dress. Blue Scarf. Seated on a Bank, putting a Wreath of
Flowers round the Neck of a Lamb.)
_The Honourable Edward Montagu_:
BY HOGARTH.
SMALL HALF-LENGTH.
(A Fair Boy in Crimson Coat and Waistcoat, and Frilled Shirt.)
The fourth son of John, fourth Earl of Sandwich. Born, 1745. Died, 1752.
Buried at Barnwell.
_The Honourable Elizabeth Montagu_:
BY WHOOD.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(Seated, with her Hand on the Neck of a Lamb.)
The second daughter of Edward, Viscount Hinchingbrook, by Elizabeth
Popham. Married first to Reginald Courtenay, second son of Sir William
Courtenay, of Powderham Castle, Devon, by whom she had one son, Charles,
(killed at the battle of Dettingen), and two daughters, co-heiresses:
Isabella, wife of William Poyntz, Esq., of Midgham, Berks; and Anne,
married to the Earl of Cork and Orrery. Mr. Courtenay died in 1745, and
his widow re-married in 1759, William Smith, comedian, better known as
“Gentleman Smith.” They lived together at Leiston, near Saxmundham, an
estate bequeathed to her by her grandmother, Lady Anne Harvey, where
she died. Mr. Smith survived her 57 years. There is a portrait of him
by Hoppner, in the National Portrait Gallery. Her brother was very much
averse to her marriage with the actor, but the correspondence seems to
show they lived happily.
_DRAWING ROOM._
_The Duchesse de Berri_:
BY RIGAUD.
HALF-LENGTH: OVAL.
(Hair Dressed High. White and Gold Boddice. Blue Velvet Mantle,
lined with Ermine.)
Born, 1694. Died, 1719. Marie Louise, daughter of Philip, second Duke of
Orleans, afterwards Regent, by Mademoiselle de Blois, daughter of Louis
XIV. and Madame de Montespan. This marriage, which had been determined on
by the King, was not only strongly opposed, by the Duchess of Orleans,
his mother, but Philip himself, then Duc de Chartres, was repugnant
to the _mésalliance_. He was at length overruled by the commands
of his father, and the King his uncle, and proceeded to break the
announcement of his engagement to the proud German Princess his mother,
who congratulated the _fiancé_ with a blow. One son and five daughters
were born to Philip, the second of whom, Marie Louise, married in 1710
the Duc de Berri, third son to the Dauphin, and consequently grandson
to Louis XIV. He was a handsome Prince, full of endearing and sterling
qualities, but his education had been shamefully neglected, and on this
point he was most sensitive. It made him shy of society, and fearful of
speaking in public, and on one occasion he was subjected to terrible
mortification. At the general Treaty of Peace, when it was settled that
the crowns of France and Spain should never devolve on the same person,
the Dukes of Orleans and Berri proceeded to the Parliament House to
attend to some necessary formalities, on the occasion of the death of
the Duc de Bourgogne, and the Duc de Berri found himself compelled to
speak. After stammering and stuttering for some time he entirely broke
down, and retired in confusion. Relating the circumstance to a friend,
he was said to have shed tears of mortification, bitterly complaining at
the same time of the manner in which his education had been neglected
for the express purpose of keeping him in the background. “J’avois,”
said he, “autant de disposition [for learning] que les autres; on ne
m’apprit qu’à chasser, on n’a cherché qu’à m’abattre.” In spite of
these disadvantages the Duc de Berri was very popular, and is said to
have won all hearts, save that of the ill-conditioned Princess whose
outward charms had subjugated him. Even at an early age Marie Louise
d’Orléans laid herself open to the tongue of scandal, and had been
censured for habits of intemperance. On finding there was a chance of
making a brilliant marriage she changed her whole line of conduct, and
persuaded every one, including the wary Madame de Maintenon, that she
was a reformed character. But no sooner was the marriage consummated
than the young Duchess threw off the mask, and returned to all her evil
ways. In nowise touched by the kindness and devotion of her husband, she
thwarted him on every occasion, and delighted to turn him into ridicule,
which was easy in the case of one so diffident and sensitive. But even
his forbearance had a limit; her conduct disgraced them both, and one
day, maddened by jealousy and the insolence of his wife’s Chamberlain, he
sought the advice of his trusty friend, the Duc de St. Simon.
St. Simon spoke strongly on the subject, urging the Duc de Berri to
seek redress from the King, and strengthening his counsel by producing
a correspondence that had fallen into his hands, between the Duchess
and the aforesaid chamberlain. These letters left no doubt of their
guilt: in one of them the lady proposed to elope, but her lover refused
on the plea that the step would not be conducive to his advancement in
life. The Duc de Berri, in conformity with his friend’s advice and his
own convictions, determined to carry the correspondence to Rambouillet
where Louis XIV. was then staying; but unfortunately his movements were
not sufficiently prompt. The Duchess discovered that her husband and
the Duc de St. Simon had been closeted together for some time over some
animated and highly confidential business; it was not difficult to guess
the subject, and no sooner had the Duc de Berri started, than she leaped
into her coach, and pursuing him with all haste, broke into the Royal
presence just in time to find the King examining the contents of the
fatal correspondence. A scene of disgraceful violence and altercation
ensued, and so exasperating and shameless was the language of the
Duchess, that the hitherto indulgent and forbearing husband raised his
heavy riding boot and with one kick sent his wife spinning into the arms
of Madame de Maintenon. The King, whose dignity was outraged on all
sides, lifted his cane to strike the unhappy Prince, but he had already
withdrawn, full of shame at the violence into which he had been betrayed.
As for the Duchess, no sooner had she recovered from the shock, than
without a word to her sovereign, or Madame de Maintenon, she left the
room in a paroxysm of rage. “It is true,” she said afterwards to one of
her ladies, “that I have sustained no bodily injury, but the mark will
ever remain here,” placing her hand upon what, by courtesy, she called
her heart. It undoubtedly remained in her memory; the Duke apologised,
and she pretended to be appeased; a reconciliation was patched up, and
at a wolf hunt held by the King in the Forest of Marly, the Duc de
Berri, who was passionately fond of the sport, rode hard and well. He
was suffering from intense thirst when he fell in with his wife’s coach,
and riding up asked anxiously if she could supply him with a draught of
any kind. The Duchess smiled benignly, and drew from the pocket of the
carriage a beautiful little case containing a bottle in which she said
she always carried some excellent Ratafia in the event of over-fatigue.
The unsuspecting man raised it to his lips and drained the last drop with
many expressions of gratitude. The Duchess smiled again: “It is fortunate
we met,” she said; and the heavy coach rolled on. In a few hours the Duke
was taken ill, and after four days of suffering he expired on May 4th,
1714, at the early age of 28. As in the case of Madame no one doubted the
existence of poison, and at first, public opinion was so violent against
the Duke of Orleans that he had a narrow escape of his life from the fury
of the mob, at the funeral of his son-in-law. Later evidence, however,
seemed but too strong against the guilty wife, although the matter was
gradually hushed up, as in those days the art of poisoning had become a
fashionable pastime. The Duchess did not long survive her victim; she
gave herself up to excesses of all kinds, and concluded her ill-spent
life of 24 years in 1719.
In some letters of “Madame, veuve de Monsieur,” the first Duke of
Orleans, the Princess of Bavaria to whom allusion has already been made,
we are told that the Duchesse de Berri at the time of her death was
undoubtedly married clandestinely to Captain de Rious, whose portrait
Madame paints in the most unflattering terms as remarkable for his
ugliness, in spite of which he was a great favourite with the ladies.
He was absent on duty with the regiment the Duchess had bought for him
at the time of her death. Madame goes on to say: “Pour se tirer de
l’embarras que pouvoit lui donner une oraison funêbre, on a pris le parti
de n’en point faire du tout.” Apparently a prudent decision. The same
authority states that the Duchesse de Berri had grown very large and
florid, (and that she often jested on the change in her own appearance),
which would account for her looking twice her real age in this picture.
_Elizabeth, Countess of Sandwich_:
BY KNELLER.
HALF-LENGTH.
(White Déshabille with Coloured Scarf. Hair en Négligé.)
Born, ——. Died, 1757. She was the second daughter of John, Earl of
Rochester, by Elizabeth Mallet. She married Edward, third Earl of
Sandwich, in 1691. As we have mentioned in the short notice of his life,
the marriage was very unhappy, and Lady Sandwich’s conduct in every
respect most reprehensible, in spite of her numerous panegyrists. She
was a brilliant member of society, and we are told that at the early
age of ten years, she already showed a great taste for reading, and had
begun to cultivate several foreign languages. She spoke French, Italian
and Spanish; Montaigne was one of her favourite authors. She danced and
sang, and played on several instruments, and though learned was in no
wise pedantic. Neither did she waste so much time on dress, as was usual
with ladies of her time. Lady Sandwich went to Paris not very long after
her marriage, and St. Evremond, whose admiration she appears to have
shared with the Duchesse de Mazarin and Ninon de l’Enclos, thus speaks
of her in a letter (without date) to the latter: “Le Docteur Morelli,
mon ami particulier, accompagne Madame la Comtesse de Sandwich qui va
en France pour sa santé. Feu Monsieur le Comte de Rochester, Père de
Madame Sandwich, avoit plus d’esprit qu’homme en Angleterre. Madame de
Sandwich en a plus que n’avoit Monsieur son père; aussi généreuse que
spirituelle, aussi aimable que spirituelle et généreuse. Voilà une partie
de ses qualités.” According to St. Evremond’s implied wishes, his two
friends formed a close intimacy, and Lady Sandwich at Paris seems to
have merited Ninon’s report of her when she says: “J’ignore les manières
Anglaises, mais elle a été très française.” It must have been during
this first visit to Paris that Lady Sandwich made the acquaintance of
the French celebrities whose portraits now adorn the Drawing-room at
Hinchingbrook, as on her return to the French metropolis in 1729 they
were all dead. Mademoiselle de l’Enclos is never tired of praising her
English friend; in a letter dated August, 1698, she says to St. Evremond:
“Madame Sandwich m’a donné mille plaisirs, par le bonheur que j’ai eu de
lui plaire; je ne croyois pas sur mon déclin, pouvoir être propre à une
femme de son âge. Elle a plus d’esprit que toutes les femmes de France,
et plus de véritable mérite. Elle nous quitte; c’est un regret pour tous
qui la connoissent, et pour moi particulièrement. Si vous aviez été ici
nous aurions faits des repas dignes du temps du passé. Vous allez revoir
Madame Sandwich, que nous voyons partir avec beaucoup de regret.” Again
in July, 1699: “Vous allez voir Madame Sandwich, mais je crains qu’elle
n’aille à la campagne; elle sait tout ce que vous pensez d’elle; elle
vous dira plus de nouvelles de ce pays ci que moi. Elle a tout approfondi
et tout pénétré: elle connoit parfaitement tout ce que je hante, et
a trouvé le moyen de n’être pas étrangère ici.” In the lengthened
correspondence between Mademoiselle de l’Enclos and her faithful Abbé,
she constantly reverts to the English lady after her departure from
Paris: “Madame Sandwich conservera l’esprit en perdant la jeunesse.
Faites la souvenir de moi; je serois bien fâchée d’en être oubliée;”
while St. Evremond on his part tells her: “Tout le monde connoit l’esprit
de Madame la Comtesse; je vois son bon goût par l’estime extraordinaire
qu’elle a pour vous. Elle est admirée à Londres comme elle fut à Paris.”
There is a long tedious poem from the same pen, describing the presents
(comestibles) which Lady Sandwich had sent the Duchesse de Mazarin, with
whom she had become very intimate: “Des moutons et des lapins de Bath.”
He speaks of Morelli as friend and physician of all three:
“Sandwich et Mazarin que le Ciel vous unisse,
Et que cette union de cent ans ne finisse.”
He alludes to meeting her often in society, more especially at Boughton,
the beautiful country house of Lord (afterwards Duke of) Montagu. “Jamais
personne n’a mieux mérité d’être reçue magnifiquement, et galamment
régalée, que Madame Sandwich; jamais homme ne fut plus propre pour la
bien recevoir que my Lord Montagu. J’espère que la cascade l’octagone,
les jets d’eau, etc., auront fait oublier la France à Madame Sandwich, et
comme my Lord est assez heureux pour inspirer son goût et ses desseins
sur les bâtiments et les jardins, je ne doute point qu’elle n’entreprenne
bientôt quelque nouvel ouvrage à Hinchinbrooke. On ne sauroit être plus
sensible que je le suis à l’honneur de son souvenir. Il ne manquoit rien
pour combler mon déplaisir de n’avoir pas vu Boughton et le maître du
lieu, que de ne point voir Hinchinbrooke et sa maîtresse, qui est le plus
grand ornement de tous les lieux où elle se trouve.” He writes to Ninon
to tell her of a wager he had with Lady Sandwich, respecting their eating
powers at a dinner at Lord Jersey’s: “Je ne fut pas vaincu,” boasts the
epicure, “ni sur les louanges ni sur l’appétit.”
At Bath she evidently was the head of a coterie; and Pope writes: “I am
beginning an acquaintance with Lady Sandwich, who has all the spirit
of the past age, and the gay experience of a pleasurable life. It were
as scandalous an omission to come to the Bath, and not to see my Lady
Sandwich, as it had been to have travelled to Rome, and not to have seen
the Queen of Sweden. It is, in a word, the best thing the country has to
boast of, and as she has been all that a woman of spirit could be, so she
still continues that easy and independent creature, that a sensible woman
always will be.” Such is Pope’s standard of female excellence! In another
letter to his friend, Charles Boyle, Earl of Orrery, he says: “This lady
is both an honour, and a disgrace to her native country. She resided in
France for some time; but it is a melancholy reflection that we have
either nothing in England, valuable enough to make her prefer her own
country to another, or that we will not suffer such a person to reside
quietly among us.”
In 1729, on the death of her ill-fated husband, the object of so much
praise and admiration, returned to the more genial atmosphere of Paris,
for the remainder of her life.
In June 1751, Lord Chesterfield writes to his son, then at Paris, as
follows: “A propos of beaux esprits, have you les entrées at Lady
Sandwich’s, who, old as she was, when I saw her last, had the strongest
parts of any woman I ever knew in my life. If you are not acquainted with
her, the Duchesse d’Aiguillon or Lady Hervey can, and I daresay will,
introduce you. I assure you it is worth while both on her own account,
and for the sake of people of wit and learning, who frequent her salon.
In such companies there is always something to be learned as well as
manners; the conversation turns on something above trifles; some point of
literature, customs, history, etc., is discussed with ingenuity and good
manners; for I must do the French people of learning justice; they are
not bears as most of ours are, but gentlemen.”
Lady Sandwich died at Paris, at her house in the Rue Vaugirard, July 1,
1757, in the Faubourg St. Germains. In a letter of Horace Walpole’s, to
John Chute, Esq., the same year, he says: “Old Lady Sandwich is dead
at Paris, and my Lord (her grandson) has given me her picture of Ninon
de l’Enclos in the prettiest manner in the world. If ever he should
intermeddle in an election in Hampshire, I beg you will serve him to
the utmost of your power. I fear I must wait for the picture.” At Lady
Sandwich’s death in Paris, although she had taken every precaution to
prevent such a casualty, there arose a great difficulty in securing the
property to her grandson and heir. The French officers rushed in, put
seals on everything, and claimed le “mobilier, les tableaux, etc., par
le droit d’aubaine.” Lord Sandwich sent over his solicitor, who had a
roughish time of it, with these “harpies.” He appealed to the Duchesse
d’ Aiguillon and other illustrious friends of the deceased countess, who
promised him every assistance, and as he discovered afterwards, were
working against him all the time. But the good lawyer was triumphant in
the end and wrote to his noble client that everything was safe, including
the pictures, and he especially notes that of Ninon de l’Enclos, “which
is very valuable,” he says, “and innumerable offers have been made for
it, here.” But it was reserved for Horace Walpole’s Gallery, and some
letters passed on the subject, for although Horace could express his
opinion of Lord Sandwich in no flattering terms, he did not object to
receive a present at his hands; and he offers in return (later) a copy
of the memoirs of the Comte de Grammont, printed at his own press at
Strawberry Hill, which contains an engraving of the afore-mentioned
portrait of Mademoiselle de l’Enclos, Lord Sandwich’s letters on the
subject are in his most jocose style.
_Ninon de l’Enclos_:
BY PIERRE MIGNARD.
(Oval. Crimson and Orange Dress.)