One of the most celebrated personages in the history of Female Longevity
is the Countess of Desmond, who is usually said to have died early in
the 17th century, aged 140 years. Bacon, in his _Natural History_,
describes her as “the old Countess of Desmond, who lived till she was
sevenscore years old, that she did _dentire_ (produce teeth) twice or
thrice.” Sir Walter Raleigh, in his _History of the World_, says: “I
myself _knew_ the old Countess of Desmond of Inchiquin, in Munster, who
lived in the year 1589, and many years since, who was married in Edward
IV.’s time, and held her jointure from all the Earls of Desmond since
then: and that this is true, all the noblemen and gentlemen in Munster
can witness.”[46] Sir William Temple was told by Robert Earl of
Leicester of the Countess married in Edward IV.’s time, “and who lived
far in King James’s reign, and was counted to have died some years above
140.” There has been much controversy respecting the portraits of this
lady which are said to exist: that in the possession of the Knight of
Kerry, and engraved in 1806, is reputed authentic; and after much
discussion, the Countess has been identified as Katharine, second wife
of Thomas 12th Earl of Desmond, who died in 1534. Fynes Morrison, the
traveller, who was in Ireland from 1599 to 1603, tells of the Countess
living to the age of about 140 years; of her walking four or five miles
weekly to the market-town in her last years; and of her death by falling
out of a tree which she had climbed to gather nuts. There is a tradition
which might be true, of her having danced at Court with the Duke of
Gloucester (Richard III.), of whom she affirmed that he was the
handsomest man in the room, except his brother Edward, and was very well
made.[47]
Of Margaret Patten, stated to have died 136 and 138 years old, a curious
portrait was found at Glasgow, amongst some family papers, in 1853. She
was born in the parish of Locknugh, near Paisley, in Scotland, and is
described beneath the portrait as “now living in the workhouse of St.
Margaret’s, Westminster, aged 138.” And in the Boardroom of St.
Margaret’s workhouse is another portrait of Margaret (there stated to be
136), the gift of the overseers of the parish in 1737. The old woman was
buried in the burial-ground of the Broadway church, now Christ-church,
Westminster, where a stone is inscribed, “Near this place lieth Margaret
Patten, who died June 26, 1739, in the Parish Workhouse, aged 136.” “She
was brought to England to prepare Scotch broth for King James II.; but
owing to the abdication of that monarch, fell into poverty, and died in
St. Margaret’s workhouse. Her body was followed to the grave by the
parochial authorities and many of the principal inhabitants, while the
children sung a hymn before it reached its last resting-place.”[48]
In the Dublin Exhibition of 1853 was a print with this inscription:
“Mary Gore, born at Cottonwith in Yorkshire, A.D. 1582; lived upwards of
one hundred years in Ireland, and died in Dublin, aged 145 years. This
print was done from a picture _taken_ (the word is torn off) when she
was one hundred and forty-three. Vanluych _pinxit_, T. Chambers
_del._”[49]
The following instances of long widowhoods are interesting: the widow of
Thomas, second Lord Lyttleton, who died in 1779, survived his lordship
in a state of widowhood sixty-one years, dying in 1840, aged 97.
The widow of David Garrick died in 1822, in the same house, on the
Adelphi-terrace, wherein her celebrated husband died forty-three years
previously. We remember a small etching of the old lady appearing in the
print-shops just after her death, portraying her characteristic
dignified deportment. Among the legacies bequeathed to her husband’s
family was a service of pewter used by him when a bachelor, and having
the name of Garrick engraven on it.
The widow of Charles James Fox, the statesman, died in 1842, aged 96,
having survived her husband thirty-six years.
Amelia Opie, the amiable novelist, died in 1853, in her 85th year,
having survived her husband, the painter, forty-six years. He painted a
remarkable picture of Mrs. Opie,—two portraits, full-face and profile,
upon the same canvas; they are said to be faithful likenesses.
Some years since, writes the editor of the _Quarterly Review_, “we
beheld the strange sight of an old woman, aged 102, bent double,
crooning over the fire, and nursing in her lap an infant a few days old.
The infant was the grandchild of the old woman’s grandchild. The only
remarkable circumstance in the veteran’s history was, that she had
nursed Wordsworth in his infancy. She had lived the greater part of her
life in Westmoreland, near the poet’s residence, and there her
descendants had been chiefly born and lived.”
Here are a few instances of women of remarkable talent attaining great
ages:
Caroline Lucretia Herschel, who discovered seven comets, and passed
years of nights as amanuensis to her brother, Sir William Herschel, in
his astronomical labours, attained the age of 97, with her intellect
clear, and princes and philosophers alike striving to do her honour.
Miss Linwood, whose Needlework Pictures were exhibited nearly sixty
years, died in 1844, at the age of 90. No needlework of ancient or
modern times has ever surpassed these productions. The collection
consisted of sixty-four pictures, mostly of large or gallery size; the
finest work, from the “Salvator Mundi,” by Carlo Dolci, was bequeathed
by Miss Linwood to Queen Victoria; for this picture 3000 guineas had
been refused.
Dr. Webster, F.R.S., who takes great interest in records of Longevity,
in 1860 contributed to the _Athenæum_ a copy of the certificate of birth
of a lady in her 100th year, living at Hampstead, namely, the surviving
sister of the authoress Miss Joanna Baillie, who died 1851, aged 89.
This document is as follows:
Copy of an entry in a separate register of the Presbytery of
Hamilton, under the head “Shotts.”—That Mr. James Baillie had a
daughter named Agnes, born 24th September 1760, attested and signed
at Hamilton the 25th day of November 1760, in presence of the
Presbytery.—Signed, James Baillie; John Kirk, Clerk; Patrick
Maxwell, Moderator.
In the same year, 1859, died Lady Morgan, the novelist, at 76; Leigh
Hunt, the poet and _littérateur_, at 75; Washington Irving, at 77; and
Thomas de Quincey, at 76.
Lady Charlotte Bury, the novelist, attained the age of 88, retaining her
beauty and conversational accomplishments to the last; she died 1861.
The Dowager Countess of Hardwicke, who died in 1858, in her long life
brought points of time together which, at first, seem separated by
impassable spaces. She was born in 1763, and was consequently 95 years
of age; but her father, the Earl of Balcarres, having been advanced in
years at the time of her birth, their two lives extend back to before
the beginning of the eighteenth century; and it was strange to hear, in
1858, that a person just dead could speak of her father as having been
“out in the Fifteen” (1715) with Lord Derwentwater and Forster, and
having been begged off by the great Duke of Marlborough. Yet such was
the fact; and not only so, but having been born in 1649, the three lives
of grandfather, son, and granddaughter stretched over a period of 200
years; and, when her grandmother was married, Charles II. gave away the
bride! When this venerable lady was born, Pitt the younger was 4 years
old; Fox, a lad of 14; and Sheridan of 12,—so that they were strictly
her contemporaries; Burke was turned of 30; she was 21 years old when
Dr. Johnson died, and a well-grown girl when Goldsmith died, so that she
might have known them both; and Sir Joshua Reynolds may have painted
her, as she was near 30 when he died. All the literature of this
century, running back to the birth of Scott and Wordsworth, eight or
nine years after her own, was as much hers as ours. She was married and
26 before the French Revolution began; and the whole of the American
Revolution must have been within her personal recollection.
Then there was Viscountess Keith, who died at about the same age, 95,
and who had been “the plaything often, when a child,” of Johnson, and
who received his last blessing on his death-bed. She was the daughter of
Mrs. Thrale, and was a link that directly connected us with the Literary
Club at its foundation, all the members of which she must have seen, and
most of whom she was old enough to know well as a grown-up young lady.
Lady Louisa Stuart, the daughter of the Marquess of Bute, actually
remembered her grandmother, Lady Mary Wortley Montague, who died in
1762. She herself died 1851, aged 94, and was the intimate friend of
Scott, and one of the few original depositaries of the Waverley secret.
And Mary Berry, aged 89, and her sister Agnes, 88, both died in 1852,
having lived in the best of London society for sixty years. For the
amusement of these ladies, Horace Walpole wrote his most delightful
_Reminiscences_.
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Footnote 46:
_History of the World_, book i. chap. 5.
Footnote 47:
Chambers’s _Book of Days_, vol. i.
Footnote 48:
Walcott’s _Westminster_, p. 238.
Footnote 49:
Eironnach; _Notes and Queries_, No. 215.
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