Housekeeper’s Room
No. 75 Elizabeth, Duchess of Albemarle
DIED CIRCA 1734.
Seated. Brocaded dress, short sleeves, deep lace. Blue mantle. Jewels.
Ringlets.
She was daughter and co-heir of Henry Cavendish, second Duke of Newcastle, by Frances Pierrepoint, daughter of the Earl of Kingston. Her large possessions made her a most desirable match in the eyes of General Monck, Duke of Albemarle, for his son Christopher. Feeling his end approaching, the anxious father hurried on the negotiations for the marriage, which were pending with Elizabeth’s family, and went so far as to insist that the nuptials should be celebrated in his own bedchamber, a few days previous to his death in 1670.
We have at this time no means of gaining much information respecting the married life of Christopher, second Duke of Albemarle, and his wife; but in 1687 he went out as Governor-General to Jamaica, and died there the following year. Neither are we in a position to ascertain the circumstances attending the insanity of his widow, as we have no trace of her life until the mention of her second marriage with Ralph, Lord (afterwards Duke of) Montagu. This eccentric man, after losing his beautiful and accomplished wife (Elizabeth Wriothesley, widow of Josceline Percy, Earl of Northumberland) in 1690, thought to console himself with the wealth of the Duchess of Albemarle, whose madness was then well known. This trifling impediment was not considered by any means insurmountable, and the unfortunate woman, or rather her large fortune, had many suitors.
One of the disappointed band, Lord Ross, gave vent to his spite, on hearing of Lord Montagu’s success, in 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.’
Finding that the poor maniac had announced her determination of marrying no one but a Sovereign, Montagu caused himself to be presented to her as the Emperor of China, and doubtless the mumming and masquerading which ensued suited his volatile and eccentric humour. But if he looked forward to enjoying his wife’s wealth without her society, he was disappointed, as she survived him twenty-six years. Happy in her royal illusions, served to her dying day on bended knee, addressed always as Majesty, while even after death, her wishes were obeyed by the sumptuous funeral which was given to her remains in the lofty pile of Westminster Abbey compatible with her imperial dignity.