NORTH LIBRARY.
No. 1.
THE HONOURABLE PENISTON, WILLIAM, AND FREDERIC LAMB, THREE SONS OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.
THE HONOURABLE PENISTON, WILLIAM, AND FREDERIC LAMB, THREE SONS OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.
THE HONOURABLE PENISTON, WILLIAM, AND FREDERIC LAMB, THREE SONS OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.
In a garden, the eldest in dark satin coat and velvet breeches. His arm round the youngest child, who is standing on a boulder in a white frock. He is also supported by the second brother, dressed in a light-coloured suit. A hat and feathers lying on the ground.
By Sir Joshua Reynolds.
By Sir Joshua Reynolds.
By Sir Joshua Reynolds.
THIS picture was painted for Lord Melbourne, to whom it did not give satisfaction, and he returned it to Sir Joshua. It was engraved by the title of ‘The Affectionate Brothers.’ Peter Leopold, fifth Lord Cowper, bought it from the painter’s executors for £800.
No. 2.
PORTRAIT. UNKNOWN.Black suit.By Bol.
PORTRAIT. UNKNOWN.Black suit.By Bol.
PORTRAIT. UNKNOWN.
Black suit.
By Bol.
No. 3.
A LADY IN THE DRESS OF THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII.
A LADY IN THE DRESS OF THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII.
A LADY IN THE DRESS OF THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII.
No. 4.
PORTRAIT. UNKNOWN.In armour.
PORTRAIT. UNKNOWN.In armour.
PORTRAIT. UNKNOWN.
In armour.
No. 5.
RAPHAEL MENGS.Greenish coat. Red collar. Own hair.BORN 1728, DIED 1779.By Himself.
RAPHAEL MENGS.Greenish coat. Red collar. Own hair.BORN 1728, DIED 1779.By Himself.
RAPHAEL MENGS.
Greenish coat. Red collar. Own hair.
BORN 1728, DIED 1779.
By Himself.
BORN at Aussig, in Bohemia, the second son of Ismael Mengs, a native of Copenhagen, miniature painter to Augustus the Strong, King of Poland. Ismael brought up his boys as painters; he gave them, when quite children, nothing but pencils for playthings, keeping them at work sometimes for sixteen hours a day. After a while the eldest son rebelled against this close application, and made his escape from home, taking refuge with the Jesuits at Prague; but Raphael inherited his father’s love of art, and laboured diligently.
In 1740 Ismael took him to Rome, where the same rigid course of study was enforced; the youth was constantly locked up in the Vatican with his work cut out for him,—tocopy Raphael, Michael Angelo, or the antique the whole day long, with a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water. On the days passed at home, the father kept his son a prisoner in the same manner, and would go out for hours on his own concerns, with the key of the room in his pocket. These early lessons of industry and application bore ample fruit in the future life of this indefatigable painter. Returning to Dresden, the young man’s miniature copies of Raphael, and some excellent portraits in pastel, pleased King Augustus so much that he appointed Raphael Mengs his Painter-in-Ordinary, with a considerable salary. To his Majesty’s surprise, and the great displeasure of Count Brühl, Raphael declined, on the plea that he was too young for such a post. Rome had great attractions for him, and thither he returned. He painted a ‘Holy Family,’ which gained him much credit, the original of Our Lady being a beautiful girl, Margaret Guazzi by name, the child of poor parents, and as good as she was beautiful. The young painter became a proselyte to the Roman Catholic faith, and married his lovely model, nor had ever cause to repent his choice. He remained at Rome several years, painting assiduously, and studying in the Hospital of San Spirito; it was in obedience to his father’s wishes that he returned to Dresden, with much regret, and was obliged by so doing to forfeit many advantageous commissions. Old Ismael, whose nature was violent and cruel, repaid his son’s devotion by turning him, his wife, and infant child into the streets on some trifling disagreement. The story came to the King’s ears, and he once more offered the rejected post to young Mengs, with an increased salary, a house, and carriage. This time the Royal bounty was accepted with gratitude, for Raphael was now a husband and a father. The King was at that time employed in building the Catholic church at Dresden, where the Royal Family still carry on their separate worship,—it being one of the few (is it not the only?)capitals where the Court and the subjects profess a different creed. Raphael Mengs painted the lateral altars, and had a commission for the high altar-piece; but the longing was upon him, in no way singular, to return to Rome, and he pleaded that he would execute the order far better in Italy. He repaired thither, and, after making a copy of the school of Athens for the Earl of Northumberland, he began his altar-piece for Dresden. ‘The Seven Years’ War now broke out, and Augustus was deprived of his electorate, and found himself unable to continue Mengs’s salary. The failure of this income, added to his own improvidence, plunged our artist into poverty; he was obliged to take any orders that offered, and accept any terms proposed, in order to keep the wolf from the door. The fresco which he executed for the monks in the Church of Sant’ Eusebio brought him little pay indeed, but great increase of popularity. He did not carry out a commission he had received from King Augustus to go to Naples and paint the Royal Family, supposing the order to be cancelled; but the Duke of Censano, Neapolitan Minister to the Papacy, urged him to fulfil it, and wrote to Naples, specifying the prices which the now popular painter had received in Saxony. Just as he was starting for Naples, rumours were set afloat which troubled Mengs exceedingly; he was assured that a picture which had been ordered for the Chapel-Royal at Caserta was not required, and that the King and Queen declined to sit to him on account of his prices being reckoned exorbitant. He was perplexed how to act, when the arrival of the Polish Minister from Naples set his mind at rest. Count Lagnasco assured him that the altar-piece for Caserta was daily expected, and that the King and Queen had never demurred at the prices, but were only displeased at the delay. He therefore hastened to Naples, but, on his arrival, found the King and Queen on the eve of embarkation for their new kingdom of Spain, and too much engrossed by their preparationsto give him sittings. They, however, commanded a portrait of their son Ferdinand, about to ascend the vacant throne of Naples. The jealousy of his brother artists made the fair city insupportable to Mengs, and he again took his way to Rome, where he was very popular, and had plenty of work. He adorned the beautiful Villa Albani with classical frescoes, and painted numerous pictures, chiefly for English and Neapolitan patrons. CharlesIII., King of Spain, hearing him highly spoken of, now proposed to Raphael Mengs to enter his service, with a large salary, a house, and carriage, and all materials for painting provided; also a free passage for himself and family on a Spanish vessel sailing from Naples.
Mengs accepted, and was kindly received by the King, but soon found he had to encounter the bitter hatred of all the artists in the Spanish capital. Giaquinto, an Italian, who had hitherto enjoyed the Royal favour, was so disgusted at the success of Mengs, that he abandoned the field, and, leaving Spain in dudgeon, returned to his own country. Mengs was now employed in the decoration of the new palace, and painted the Gods of Olympus in the bedchamber of the King, Aurora in that of the Queen, and Morning, Noon, Evening, and Night in the apartments of the Infanta, besides numerous easel pictures.
He was also appointed honorary member of the Academy of St. Ferdinand, where, being desirous of instituting new regulations and bringing about reforms, he provoked much ill-will, and being himself of a hot and hasty temper, bickerings and disagreements ensued without number. Altogether, Raphael Mengs was far from happy during his sojourn at Madrid; the climate was most injurious to his health, which declined daily, yet he never slackened in his toil, but worked unremittingly from dawn till dusk, and often far into the night. He had already despatched his wife and family to Rome, and now asked permission to join them.Suffering and melancholy, he proceeded on his solitary way, and was delayed some time at Monaco by increased illness; at length he arrived in his beloved Rome, where the affection of his dear ones and the warmth of the climate partially revived him. He now turned his attention chiefly to sacred subjects, and in loving memory of his favourite Notte di Coreggio in the Dresden Gallery, executed a Nativity on the same plan, where all the light emanated from the Holy Child; introducing his own portrait as one of the adoring shepherds. Pope ClementXIV.gave Mengs a labour of love to perform, and in that light he considered it, for he stipulated that he should receive no payment: this was to decorate the walls of the hall destined for the reception of the papyrus rolls in the Vatican. To work beneath the same roof which his illustrious namesake had sanctified, was indeed a glory!
Although enfeebled in health, Mengs was comparatively content, both in the matter of his residence and his work; but he received a warning from Madrid that his leave of absence had been too long exceeded, and it required all the kind intercession of Don Joseph de Azara, Spanish Envoy at Rome, and Mengs’s great friend, to intercede with the King on this score. At last there was a compromise, Mengs agreeing to go to Naples to paint the portraits of the reigning King and Queen for the gallery at Madrid. But his industry seemed on this occasion to forsake him; when in Naples he was very dilatory over his commission, and spent his time in buying coins and vases to add to his collection; and on his return to Rome he had only finished the heads. Then he had to conclude his work in the Vatican, and take leave of the Pope, who gave him a rosary of lapis-lazuli and a set of medals struck during his Pontificate. So little was Mengs in haste to reach Spain that he stopped by the way at Florence to paint the Grand Duke and Duchess, with many other portraits.
He arrived at Madrid, and recommenced his labours in thepalace, to the great satisfaction of King Charles; went to Aranjuez, where he worked both in the palaces and the churches; but relapsed into bad health, and became so ill that the kind-hearted monarch would no longer detain him, and sent him back to Rome,—‘with,’ says Sir William Stirling, ‘a stipend far beyond his requirements, and a fame far beyond his merits.’ Charles also settled dowries on the daughters of Raphael Mengs; but alas! he had not been long at home before his good and beautiful wife died; and he strove to console himself by working harder than ever.
The winter was unusually severe, his studio was overheated, and the bad air increased his malady. His frame became emaciated, and his features so ghastly as to attract the notice of every one. One of his pictures, purchased by an Englishman, met with a strange fate: despatched to England by sea, the vessel was taken by a French cruiser, and the picture sent to Paris. Eventually LouisXVI.sent it as a present to the Empress Catherine of Russia.
In spite of the expostulations of his children, Mengs now put himself into the hands of a German quack, and, to follow his directions without opposition, took a lodging by himself, first in Via Condotti, and then in the Gregoriana.
A nun at Narni had lately gained great popularity by selling a decoction of holy jessamines, by which she worked miraculous cures. To a strong dose of this medicine the quack doctor added a still more efficacious dose of antimony, and thus indeed relieved the poor painter from all further suffering, physical or mental. He worked to the last, and died in June 1779, being buried at San Michele, on the Janiculan Hill, followed by the Professors of the Academy of St. Luke. Don Joseph de Azara, knowing his friend’s tastes, erected a cenotaph to his memory, adorned with a bronze portrait, close to the monument of his illustrious namesake and idol, the divine Raphael. By nature Mengs was choleric and melancholy, moreprone to be ruffled by the petty ills of life than satisfied by his success, which is generally allowed to have been far above his deserts. He was self-willed even to arrogance in his opinions. Finding fault with some Venetian pictures Pope Clement had bought, his Holiness remarked they had been much admired by other artists. ‘Ah,’ replied Mengs, ‘they praise what is above their powers; I despise what is below mine.’
He was severe on other Art writers, and especially on the works of Sir Joshua Reynolds; Azara said he was very truthful, and tells how on one occasion Mengs declared he had never taken a pinch of snuff, though in so doing he would have redeemed a collection of valuable snuff-boxes, the presents of many grandees, from the clutches of the Custom-House officers, who seized them as merchandise. Yet he practised a hoax on his friend Winckelman, and allowed him to publish in his book the description of a ‘Ganymede’ by Mengs, which the painter had passed off on the Professor as an antique. He was a faithful and affectionate husband, a tender and loving father, and gave his children a good education,—but little beside, for, with all the riches he had acquired, he was both extravagant and improvident, and at his death he only left his collections of coins and casts, bequeathed to the King of Spain, and a number of engravings, which were bought by the Empress of Russia. Mengs’s eldest daughter, Anna Maria, was a successful portrait-painter; married to Manuel Salvador Camoni, a member of the Academy of San Fernando, she died at Madrid in 1798. He would not allow his sons to become painters, ‘for,’ said he, ‘if they were inferior to me, I should despise them; if superior, I should be jealous of them.’ One of his sons became a soldier in the service of Spain. Mengs wrote much on the subject of Art, had great command of language, and was a good linguist.
This picture was painted expressly for the third Earl Cowper.
No. 6.
CHARLES JAMES FOX.Dark coat. White cravat.By Hoppner.
CHARLES JAMES FOX.Dark coat. White cravat.By Hoppner.
CHARLES JAMES FOX.
Dark coat. White cravat.
By Hoppner.
No. 7.
FATHER OF JAMES NORTHCOTE THE PAINTER.Dark coat. White hair. Red curtain.By his Son.
FATHER OF JAMES NORTHCOTE THE PAINTER.Dark coat. White hair. Red curtain.By his Son.
FATHER OF JAMES NORTHCOTE THE PAINTER.
Dark coat. White hair. Red curtain.
By his Son.
NOTWITHSTANDING that he exercised the modest trade of a watchmaker in his native town of Plymouth, Northcote boasted of a long pedigree, and maintained that his family was of very good standing in the county. But his pride did not prevent his wishing his son James to follow the same trade, while the young man had set his heart on being a painter. In the notice of the future Royal Academician’s life, we shall find every particular connected with James’s rise to eminence. Among his numerous works, he painted the portrait in question of the father who had done all in his power to thwart his son’s artistic proclivities.
This picture was bought at Northcote’s sale by the fifth Earl Cowper.
No. 8.
SARAH, DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.Red gown, bordered with white fur.BORN 1658, DIED 1744.By Sir Godfrey Kneller.
SARAH, DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.Red gown, bordered with white fur.BORN 1658, DIED 1744.By Sir Godfrey Kneller.
SARAH, DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.
Red gown, bordered with white fur.
BORN 1658, DIED 1744.
By Sir Godfrey Kneller.
THE youngest daughter of Richard Jennings, Esq. of Sundridge, near St. Albans, by the daughter and heir of Sir Gifford Hornhurst. When quite young she went to Court, where her sister Frances (afterwards Lady Tyrconnell) was already remarkable, as much for the laxity of her conduct as for her beauty. Sarah’s features may not have been as regular as those of her sister, but her countenance was most expressive, her complexion beautiful, and the profusion of her fair hair, formed a most attractive combination. Amidst her crowd of adorers, the young, handsome, and insinuating Colonel Churchill stood pre-eminent; he was poor, and by many accused of avarice already, yet he preferred the portionless girl to a rich heiress with a plain face, when the match was suggested to him.
Sarah Jennings was a woman of inordinate ambition and iron will, and she made use of her close friendship with the Princess (afterwards Queen) Anne to rise in the world and push her husband’s fortunes, even before his own distinguished talents had insured his eminence. The tyranny which the high-spirited, hot-tempered Lady of the Bedchamber exercised over her Royal mistress for many years are matters too well known to be here recapitulated. The romantic correspondence between ‘Mrs. Morley’ and ‘Mrs. Freeman,’ showing themanner in which Queen Anne, even after her marriage, gave herself up to the dominion of her favourite, until the self-imposed yoke became intolerable, and was suddenly and completely severed, are historical facts bound up with public events. The Duchess of Marlborough was supplanted by her ownprotégée, Mrs. Masham, and peremptorily dismissed, in spite of ‘rages, prayers, and scenes.’ Voltaire says: ‘Quelques paires de gants qu’elle refusa à la Reine, un verre d’eau qu’elle laissa tomber sur la robe de Madame Masham, changèrent la face de Europe!’—alluding to the political changes which followed the downfall of Sarah. In her latter days her temper became ungovernable; she quarrelled with her husband, her son-in-law, her grandchildren; and on one occasion, when the Duke, wishing to pacify her rage, complimented her on her long fair hair, which was still luxuriant, the furious lady cut it off, and flung it in her husband’s face! At his death a long coil of golden tresses was found in the Duke’s drawer. Sarah survived her husband twenty years, and, in spite of her age (it must be remembered she was very rich), had many suitors, amongst them the Duke of Somerset and Lord Coningsby. To the latter, after reminding him she was sixty-three, she replied: ‘Were I only thirty, and you could lay the world at my feet, I would never bestow on you the heart and hand which belonged exclusively to John, Duke of Marlborough.’
Lady Cowper (the Chancellor’s wife) saw a great deal of the Duchess at Court; they exchanged constant visits, and corresponded, but Lady Cowper had no opinion of her Grace; she describes her trying to make mischief by repeating ill-natured speeches, and goes on to say: ‘She is certainly an ill woman, and does not care what she says of anybody, to wreak her malice or revenge.’
No. 9.
CHARLOTTE, COUNTESS FAUCONBERG.Peeress’s robes.
CHARLOTTE, COUNTESS FAUCONBERG.Peeress’s robes.
CHARLOTTE, COUNTESS FAUCONBERG.
Peeress’s robes.
SHE was the only daughter of Sir Matthew Lamb, and sister to Peniston, first Viscount Melbourne. Married in 1766 Henry Belasyse, second Earl Fauconberg, a Lord of the Bedchamber, and Lord-Lieutenant of the North Riding of Yorkshire. They had four daughters, co-heiresses; but the title is extinct.
No. 10.
PORTRAIT. UNKNOWN.Man in blue velvet coat, braided.
PORTRAIT. UNKNOWN.Man in blue velvet coat, braided.
PORTRAIT. UNKNOWN.
Man in blue velvet coat, braided.
No. 11.
UNCERTAIN.Dark coat. White cravat.
UNCERTAIN.Dark coat. White cravat.
UNCERTAIN.
Dark coat. White cravat.
No. 12.
ROBERT HARLEY, EARL OF OXFORD.Black and gold dress.BORN 1661, DIED 1724.
ROBERT HARLEY, EARL OF OXFORD.Black and gold dress.BORN 1661, DIED 1724.
ROBERT HARLEY, EARL OF OXFORD.
Black and gold dress.
BORN 1661, DIED 1724.
STUDIED under the famous Dr. Birch (who boasted of the number of statesmen he had educated), and showed great promise. In 1688 he raised a troop of horse for the service of William of Orange, whom he joined, but who showed him no particular favour. Harley sat in Parliament, but waited for office till 1704, when Queen Anne gave him a seat in the Council, and made him Secretary of State. He was much opposed to Godolphin and Marlborough, and made common cause with the Queen’s new favourite, Mrs. Masham, to overthrow the power of the Whigs.
The Ministers insisted on his dismissal, but Anne stood by him as long as she could; when Harley was compelled to resign, the Queen said to him: ‘You see the unfortunate condition of monarchs,—they are obliged to give up their friends to please their enemies;’ but so high was Anne’s opinion of Harley, that she constantly consulted him on public affairs, when out of office.
On the downfall of the Whig Administration, he was made Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Treasurer.
He was much censured, even by his own party, for some of his financial measures, by which, however, he enriched the Royal coffers. In March 1711, an event happened that made a great noise, and rendered Harley the hero of the day.A French adventurer, called Bourlie, or the Marquis de Guiscard and Langalleve, was a shifty individual, who acted first as a spy of England against France, and then of France against England, being in the pay of both. His intrigues were discovered, and he was brought before the Privy Council. Believing that Harley had been instrumental in his detection, he resolved to be revenged. While waiting his turn for examination, he found means to secrete about his person a penknife which was lying on the table, among some papers. No sooner was he brought forward than he rushed in a fury upon Harley, and stabbed him several times, the Minister falling senseless on the ground, covered with blood. A scene of confusion ensued, and the Duke of Buckingham, drawing his sword, wounded the assassin, who was conveyed to Newgate, where he died in a few days, either from the effect of the sword-thrusts, or by his own hand.
The event seemed to have revived Harley’s popularity: both Houses presented an address to the Queen, assuring her that Harley’s loyalty had brought this attack upon him, etc. etc., and when he reappeared in the House, a brilliant reception awaited him; and a Bill was passed making an attempt on the life of a Privy Councillor a felony which deprived the offender of benefit of clergy. In the same year, Robert Harley, being then Lord High Treasurer, was created Baron Wigmore, and Earl of Oxford and Mortimer, and next year he received the Garter, and became Prime Minister of England.
Lords Oxford and Bolingbroke at first worked together to withstand the power of the Opposition, and to bring about the pacification of Europe; and the Peace of Utrecht added to the popularity of the ministerial party. But dissensions arose between Bolingbroke and the Premier, and recriminations and fresh intrigues, in which Mrs. Masham was implicated, all of which belong to England’s political history.
Oxford was deprived of all his offices, and accused of plottingin favour of the Pretender. The Queen died, and in 1715 he was sent to the Tower, on an accusation of high treason. He was imprisoned for two years, and on his release gave himself up to the enjoyment of art and literature; he formed a magnificent library, which cost him a fortune, not only from the splendour of the works themselves, but on account of their sumptuous binding. His collection ofMSS., called after him the HarleianMSS., which was afterwards greatly increased by his son, is now one of the glories of the British Museum; it was purchased by the Government after the second Lord Oxford’s death.
Few men have been more eulogised on the one hand, and reviled on the other, but he has been unanimously described as a kind patron of men of letters.
It was Harley who brought into operation the measure known to posterity as ‘The South Sea Bubble,’ which entailed ruin on numbers; and in spite of much opposition he also established State lotteries.
Lord Oxford was twice married: first to Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Foley, of Whitley Court, county Worcester, by whom he had one son and two daughters; and secondly, to Sarah, daughter of Thomas Myddleton, Esq., who was childless.
No. 13.
FIELD-MARSHAL HENRY OF NASSAU, LORD OF AUVERQUERQUE.Father of the first Earl of Grantham, grandfather ofHenrietta, wife to the second Earl Cowper.
FIELD-MARSHAL HENRY OF NASSAU, LORD OF AUVERQUERQUE.Father of the first Earl of Grantham, grandfather ofHenrietta, wife to the second Earl Cowper.
FIELD-MARSHAL HENRY OF NASSAU, LORD OF AUVERQUERQUE.
Father of the first Earl of Grantham, grandfather of
Henrietta, wife to the second Earl Cowper.
No. 14.
LADY ANNE COLLETON.Blue gown, trimmed with white lace.DIED 1740.By Sir Godfrey Kneller.
LADY ANNE COLLETON.Blue gown, trimmed with white lace.DIED 1740.By Sir Godfrey Kneller.
LADY ANNE COLLETON.
Blue gown, trimmed with white lace.
DIED 1740.
By Sir Godfrey Kneller.
SHE was the second daughter of the first Earl Cowper, by his second wife, Mary Clavering. She married, in 1731, James Colleton, Esq. of Haynes Hill, county Berks, grandson of Sir James Colleton, Bart.
No. 15.
LADY MILBANKE.White gown. Holding a pink scarf.
LADY MILBANKE.White gown. Holding a pink scarf.
LADY MILBANKE.
White gown. Holding a pink scarf.
She was the daughter and heir of John Hedworth, Esq., M.P., wife of Sir Ralph Milbanke, of Halnaby, M.P., and mother of the first Viscountess Melbourne.
No. 16.
ELIZABETH, WIFE OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.Light-coloured gown. White veil. Scarf. Coaxing her baby, who is seated on a cradle beside her.DIED 1818.By Sir Joshua Reynolds.
ELIZABETH, WIFE OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.Light-coloured gown. White veil. Scarf. Coaxing her baby, who is seated on a cradle beside her.DIED 1818.By Sir Joshua Reynolds.
ELIZABETH, WIFE OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.
Light-coloured gown. White veil. Scarf. Coaxing her baby, who is seated on a cradle beside her.
DIED 1818.
By Sir Joshua Reynolds.
She was the only daughter of Sir Ralph Milbanke, of Halnaby Hall, county York. In 1769 she married Sir Peniston Lamb, Bart., M.P., who was created Viscount Melbourne in 1770. She was a beautiful young woman of twenty when she first went to London, and took the town by storm. She was as much admired for her vivacity as her beauty, and Sir Joshua Reynolds speaks of her as figuring at one of the fashionable masquerades of the day in domino and tricorne hat, as ‘a pretty fellow’ or maccaroni, with the Duchess of Ancaster and Lady Fordyce, and a charming portrait, in possession of Lord Southampton, represents her in this costume. Lady Melbourne persuaded her husband to buy a house in Piccadilly from Mr. Fox (father of Charles James), who had been a friend of Sir Matthew Lamb, next door to Burlington House, which cost a large sum. Lady Melbourne called it after her husband’s title, and took the greatest delight in furnishing and adorning the interior, on which work she employed Cipriani, Wheatley, the humorous designer Rebecca, and all the best decorative artists of the day. The society was asbrilliant as the walls which encircled them; and Royalty, fashion, beauty, and talent flocked to the receptions at Melbourne House, whose master, bent on pleasing his beautiful wife, threw open his gates with lavish hospitality. Sir Joshua was an intimate, as well as a general guest, and thus had many opportunities of studying the form and features which he afterwards immortalised in the picture that heads this notice. It was painted in 1770, just after Sir Peniston Lamb’s elevation to the peerage and the birth of his eldest son.
No sooner was the London house completed, than Lady Melbourne turned her attention to the embellishment of her husband’s country seat in Hertfordshire, where, in company with her chosen friend, Mrs. Damer (alike charming as a woman and an artist), she planned and arranged the internal decorations of Brocket Hall. Wheatley was again called in, and, with the assistance of Mortimer, painted the ceilings with allegorical subjects. The two ladies were also much addicted to the pastime of private theatricals, as was their mutual friend, the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire; while such names as Sheridan, Fox, Horace Walpole, and other celebrities, figured as actors and authors in Lady Melbourne’s company. It was here, doubtless, that Lord Egremont (then a youth) imbibed that love of art, and that taste for the society of artists, which made him so noble and munificent a patron, to the end of a long life. He was a great friend of the Melbournes, and loved to see his ‘three young lambs’ gambolling over the greensward in his spacious park at Petworth.
Lady Melbourne was very popular with the Royal Family, and one day the Duke of York called on her, and in the course of conversation became very enthusiastic in his admiration of Melbourne House. He confessed he was weary of his own at Whitehall, and would gladly moveinto her neighbourhood. The lady laughed, and said, for her part, she often wished to exchange the chimes of St. James’s Church for those of Westminster Abbey; and they talked on, half jestingly, half in earnest, till the possibility of an exchange of residence was mooted. It appeared strange, but perhaps the amateur house-decorator was lured by the prospect of new walls to beautify, fresh fields to conquer. Before the Duke took his leave, he had gained her Ladyship’s promise to discuss the subject with her husband: ‘For you know, dear Lady Melbourne, you always have your way with everybody, especially with my Lord.’
His Royal Highness was right: if Lord Melbourne raised any objection at first, it was soon overcome; the consent of the Crown was gained, the bargain was struck, the house at Whitehall became Melbourne House, and the residence in Piccadilly, York House, afterwards changed to the Albany, where, in the oldest portion and principal apartments of that paradise of bachelors, the decorations of Cipriani and his colleagues may still be admired.
All contemporary writers speak of Lady Melbourne as a leader of fashion and an ornament of society; Horace Walpole, in particular, alludes to her frequently, ‘in wonderful good looks,’ at the Prince of Wales’s birthday ball at Carlton House, and again at the French Ambassador’s, where it was so hot he was nearly stewed, but ‘the quadrilles were surprisingly pretty, especially that one in which Lady Melbourne, Lady Sefton, and Princess Czartorisky figured, in blue satin and gold, with collars mountedà la reine Elizabeth.
In 1805 her eldest son died; but the mother seems to have been consoled by the promise of future greatness shown by her second son, William, who early evinced a taste for public life, which harmonised with Lady Melbourne’s views. She took a great interest in political affairs, was a staunch Whig, and at the time of Charles Fox’s famous election, she displayed asmuch zeal and enthusiasm as her rival beauty, the Duchess of Devonshire. William Lamb’s marriage with the daughter of Lord Bessborough, which enlarged his connection with all the principal Whig families, was a source of great pleasure to Lady Melbourne. It was a pity, with her political predilections, she did not survive to see her favourite son and her daughter’s second husband each rise to the coveted position of Prime Minister of England.
We have no authority for stating in what light Lady Melbourne viewed her daughter-in-law’s infatuation for Lord Byron; but we know, from his own letters, that he entertained a great admiration for herself. He had never met with so charming a woman. ‘If she had only been some years younger, what a fool she would have made of me!’ With her he kept up unvarying friendly relations during all the vicissitudes of his love and hate passages with Lady Caroline. One day he called on Lady Melbourne, and asked her advice and sympathy. She was a model confidante, and had once given it as her opinion, that few men could be trusted with their neighbours’ secrets, and scarcely any woman with her own. Byron assured her he was wearied with his way of life, that he wished to marry and reform, and settle down at Newstead, and asked if she would assist him in his choice of a wife. Lady Melbourne smiled, and said she thought she knew of the very woman to suit him—her near kinswoman, Miss Milbanke, daughter of Sir Noel Milbanke, heiress to a large fortune, and a peerage in her own right, as Lady Wentworth,—no great beauty, but not uncomely, well brought up, well educated, and amiable. Byron was quite satisfied, but, as may be expected, when Lady Caroline heard of it, she was furious. ‘The girl has a bad figure, is given to statistics, and goes regularly to church,—a pretty wife for a poet!’ The lady refused the man, of whose moral character she had heard a sorry account; but he persisted, and the marriage took placein 1816,—an ill-fated union, as might have been expected, a fact but too well known. Lady Melbourne’s health began to fail; she drooped gradually, till one day the sentence was pronounced in her hearing—she had but a short time to live. She heard the announcement with calmness, took an affectionate leave of those she loved, and addressed some parting admonitions to her beloved William, which he never forgot. Lady Melbourne died on the 6th April 1818, at Whitehall, and was buried at Hatfield Church. Her son Frederick was absent from England at the time.
This portrait was brought from Brocket, where it once hung at the end of the ball-room. It was engraved by the title of ‘Maternal Affection.’
No. 17.
LADY CAROLINE LAMB.White gown. Blue bows. Crop of fair hair.BORN 1788, DIED 1828.By Hoppner.
LADY CAROLINE LAMB.White gown. Blue bows. Crop of fair hair.BORN 1788, DIED 1828.By Hoppner.
LADY CAROLINE LAMB.
White gown. Blue bows. Crop of fair hair.
BORN 1788, DIED 1828.
By Hoppner.
SHE was the only daughter of the first Earl of Bessborough, by Lady Henrietta Spencer, daughter of the first Earl Spencer. She was in Italy when a child, with her mother, but, on their return to England, Lady Bessborough being in very delicate health, Lady Caroline was intrusted for a time to the care of her aunt, the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire. Throughout her life she kept a diary, and she gives a detailed record of her early days at DevonshireHouse. The children saw very little of their elders, and were brought up with a strange mixture of luxury and laxity. The nursery table was covered with dainties, and served with goodly plate, but the young lords and ladies were allowed to run wild backwards and forwards between the servants’ apartments in search of sweetmeats and ‘goodies.’ Caroline’s education was little cared for, her knowledge circumscribed, and she only believed in two classes of society,—aristocrats and beggars. At ten years old she could scarcely write, and could not spell at all; but she composed verses, ‘which were pronounced splendid in the family, and everybody petted me, especially my cousin Hartington (afterwards Duke of Devonshire), who was my constant companion. My chief delight consisted in polishing my specimens of Derbyshire spar, washing my dog, and breaking in a pony.’ Caroline was transferred from Devonshire to Spencer House, to live with her grandmother, and the change did not suit her small ladyship. ‘How well I remember the grand housekeeper, in a hoop and ruffles, who presided over seventy servants.’ Under Lady Spencer’s roof, of whom the poet Cowper speaks so highly, and to whom Horace Walpole, with his usual sneer, alludes as ‘the goddess of wisdom,’ it may be imagined the girl was subjected to a discipline which was so different from the liberty of Devonshire House that she soon broke out into open rebellion. ‘I was indeed very naughty, and used to give way to such paroxysms of rage that a physician was called in. Dr. Warren forbade all study, and desired that my brain should lie fallow. I believe he feared for my reason. I was very fond of music, and cried when I had to give it up. My governess was too severe, my relations too indulgent.’ It was not until Lady Caroline was fifteen that she tried to make up for lost time. As regarded her education, she showed great aptitude for languages,—French, Italian, Latin, ‘and I had even mastered enough Greek to enable me to enjoy a classical play, whentaken to speech-day at Harrow, where my brother was at school.’ She could recite an ode of Sappho to admiring listeners at Devonshire or Spencer House, and was much praised and petted. She piqued herself on her unconventionality, and would plunge into intimacy, or manifest her aversion in the most unequivocal manner. Among the frequent guests at Spencer House was William Lamb, the second son of Lord Melbourne. It would seem strange that the vigilance of the young lady’s relations should not have been awakened by the growing intimacy between her and the captivating younger son. Well bred, well born, with a ringing laugh and an inexpressible charm, which never forsook him in advanced life amid the turmoil of politics, William Lamb had everything to recommend him but a birthright,—and had it not been settled in the family that Caroline was to make a brilliant marriage? Lady Caroline, who loved to record her own adventures, writes to her friend and confidante, Lady Morgan, not very long before her death, recalling her past life: ‘I fell in love, when only twelve years old, with a friend of Charles Fox,—a friend of liberty, whose poems I had read, whose self I had never seen, and, when I did see him, at thirteen, could I change? I was more attached than ever. William Lamb was beautiful, and far the cleverest person then about, the most daring in his opinions, in his love of liberty and independence. He thought of me but as a child; yet he liked me much. Afterwards he wished to marry me, and I refused him because of my temper.’ In another letter she says: ‘I was a fury. He asked me a second time, and this time he was not refused, for I adored him.’ The lady’s relations were reconciled to the match, possibly influenced in some slight degree by the consideration that William Lamb had become heir to a large fortune and a peerage, in consequence of the death of his elder brother.
Marriages never come single in a family. Lamb’s sisterEmily was already engaged, and in the year 1805, within a month of each other, the brother was united to Lady Caroline Ponsonby, and the sister to Lord Cowper. Mr. Lamb and his wife passed the early days of their married life between Brocket (Lord Melbourne’s) and Panshanger (Lord Cowper’s) Houses in Hertfordshire; and when the London season began, Lady Caroline contributed not a little to the former attractions of Melbourne House, where she and her husband took up their abode. Society was at variance as to the bride’s merits; her eccentricities amused many of the guests, and affronted others,—for some people are indignant when merely called upon to stare at what is said to them. The Prince of Wales, anhabituéof Melbourne House, was one of those who encouraged Lady Caroline in her wayward and wilful moods; her startling speeches, her flighty coquetry, her sudden quarrels, and as sudden reconciliations, whether with her husband or any other member of the community, were a great source of amusement to his Royal Highness. Miss Berry speaks of meeting the Prince at Lady Caroline Lamb’s in the year 1808. She says in her Diary: ‘It was an immense assembly. We came away at half-past twelve, and had to walk beyond the Admiralty to our carriage. Many of the company did not leave till past three; the Prince of Wales had supped below, in Lady Melbourne’s apartments, and remained till past six. Sheridan was there, and quite drunk.’ It would appear by these remarks that Lady Melbourne had vacated a suite of apartments in favour of her daughter-in-law, who received on her own account, as in another passage in Miss Berry’s correspondence there is mention, ‘I am going to Lady Caroline Lamb’s to-night. She gives a party, to be convenient for hearing what is going on, about this famous motion in the House of Peers.’ But Lady Caroline was of too romantic a turn of mind to be absorbed by politics; she had always some small flirtation on hand, and her admirers were frequentlyunder age. We read in the Life of the late Lord Lytton some very early passages between him and this mature object of his adoration,—assignations entered into, notes passing clandestinely, engagements to dance broken off and renewed with playful inconstancy. Excitement, even on so small a scale, seemed necessary to the lady’s existence; she would have been bored to death without it. The novelist admired his goddess enough to put her in print, and describes the compassion she displayed one day, when, finding a beggar who had met with an accident, she insisted on his being lifted, rags and all, into the carriage beside her, when she drove the cripple to his destination.
But a luminary was about to appear on the horizon, which was destined to eclipse all lesser lights. Here is her own account of her first acquaintance with Lord Byron: ‘Rogers, who was one of my adorers, and extolled me up to the skies, said to me one evening, “You must know the new poet.” He offered to lend me the proofs ofChilde Haroldto read. That was enough for me. Rogers said, “He has a club foot, and bites his nails.” I said, “If he were as ugly as Æsop I must know him.” Lady Westmoreland had met Byron in Italy; she undertook to present him. I looked earnestly at him, and turned on my heel,’—conduct which the poet afterwards reproached her with. London had gone mad about him. All the ladies were pulling caps for him. He said once ostentatiously: ‘The women positively suffocate me.’ That night the entry in Lady Caroline’s Diary was—‘Mad, bad, and dangerous to know.’ She declared at first she had no intention of attracting him, but she confesses how she had come in from riding one windy, rainy day, all muddy and dishevelled, and had been conversing with Moore and Rogers in that plight, when Byron was announced, and she flew out of the room to beautify herself. ‘Lord Byron wished to come and see me at eight o’clock, when I was alone. That was mydinner-hour. I said he might. From that moment, for many months, he almost lived at Melbourne House.’
Lord Hartington, Lady Caroline’s favourite cousin, expressed a wish to have some dancing of an evening at Whitehall, as his stepmother (Lady Elizabeth Foster) objected to anything of the kind at Devonshire House, and accordingly for a time the drawing-room at Melbourne House was turned into a ball-room. But as Lord Byron’s lameness cut him off from the quadrilles and waltzes, this arrangement did not suit him, and his word being law with Lady Caroline, the dancing was soon discontinued. It was a strange flirtation between the poet and the poetaster. The lady would lie awake half the night composing verses, which she would repeat the next day to the great man, in the fond hope of a few crumbs of praise, a commodity of which Byron was very sparing, he being a great deal more taken up with giving utterance to his own effusions. Lady Caroline was often mortified, Lord Byron often wearied,—at least so it would appear. Lord Holland came up to them one evening as they were sitting side by side as usual, with a silver censer in his hand. ‘I am come,’ he said, ‘Lady Caroline, to offer you your due.’ ‘By no means,’ she returned in a tone of pique; ‘pray give it all to Lord Byron. He is so accustomed to incense that he cannot exist without it.’
A recent biography describes the situation well when it says: ‘He grew moody, and she fretful, when their mutual egotisms jarred.’ William Lamb’s wife was certainly not formed to make home happy. One day she extolled his generosity and lack of jealousy; another, she accused him of apathy and indifference with regard to her flirtations. Her conduct was marked by alternate tenderness and ill-temper: there could be no doubt of her affection for her invalid boy, yet her treatment of him was spasmodic and fitful,—now devoted, now neglectful. More than once a separation hadbeen agreed upon, and Mr. Lamb had even gone so far as to forbid his wife the house, and believed she was gone. He went to his own room, locked himself in, and sat brooding over his troubles. It was growing late, when he was attracted by the well-known sound of scratching at the door, and he rose to let in his favourite dog. But lo! the intruder was no other than his wife, who, crouching on the floor, had made use of this stratagem to gain admittance. Half indignant, half amused, he did not long resist the glamour which this eccentric woman knew how to throw around him. Peace was restored for a short time, but not for long; another explosion, a violent domestic quarrel, occurred one night in London. Lady Caroline went out, called a hackney coach, and in her evening dress—a white muslin frock, blue sash, and diamond necklace—drove to the house of a physician, whom she scarcely knew. She describes with great unction the surprise and admiration of the assembled guests, ‘who took me for a child, and were surprised at my fine jewels.’
It was her cherished vanity to be taken for a young unmarried girl. Her relations were much alarmed at her disappearance. Lady Spencer sent to Lord Byron’s house, who disclaimed all knowledge of the truant. After creating a great excitement in the good doctor’s drawing-room, the lady returned home, to enjoy another scene and another reconciliation. Her mother, Lady Bessborough, who was in very delicate health, was deeply concerned at her daughter’s conduct, the conjugal quarrels, and the intimacy with Lord Byron, which was so much talked of in the world. ‘Poor dear mamma was miserable; she prevailed on me at length to go to Ireland with her and papa.’ On their departure, Lord Byron wrote to his dearest Caroline a most peculiar letter, abounding, indeed, in high-flown protestations, assuring her he was hers only, hers entirely; that he would with pleasure give up everything for her, both here and beyond the grave;that he was ready to fly with her, when and whenever she might appoint, etc.; at the same time reminding her of her duty to her husband and her mother—a most wonderful mixture of false sentiment and shallow feeling, which could only have deceived one so blinded as the recipient. ‘Byron continued to write to me while I was in Ireland. His letters were tender and amusing. We had arrived at Dublin, on our way home, when my mother brought me a letter from him,—such a letter!—I have published it inGlenarvon. It was sealed with a coronet, but neither the coronet nor the initials were his; they were Lady Oxford’s.’ Lady Caroline was beside herself with rage and jealousy; she fell ill. They were detained at ‘a horrid little inn’ at Rock. She arrived in England in the most excited frame of mind. Byron complains of her proceedings, which were of a most melodramatic nature; she went to see him, dressed as a page; she vowed she would stab herself, and wished some one would kill him;—‘in short,’ says the poet, ‘the Agnus is furious; you can have no idea what things she says and does, ever since the time that I (really from the best motives) withdrew my homage. She actually writes me letters threatening my life.’ We have no reference at hand to note when these lines were written, but we believe after his marriage:—