John, Fourth Earl of Sandwich
By ZOFFANY.
Small Full-length.
(Seated near a Table, on which he rests his Left Arm. Crimson and Gold Court Dress.)
Miss Margaret Ray
By GAINSBOROUGH.
Half-Length.
(Blue Dress.)
Born, 1742, Murdered, 1779.—Some say the daughter of a stay-maker in Covent Garden, others that she was born at Elstree, in Herts, where her father was a labourer. In early life, she was apprenticed to a dressmaker in Clerkenwell, but her first meeting with John, fourth Earl of Sandwich, was at a shop in Tavistock-street, where he was buying some neck-cloths. Struck with her extreme beauty, his lordship took her under his protection, established her at Hinchingbrook, and superintended her education. Margaret repaid the pains that were bestowed on her, but her especial talent was for music, and under the tuition of Mr. Bates, (afterwards secretary to Lord Sandwich) and Signor Giardini, her sweet and powerful voice, was fully developed, and she sang to perfection, in the Oratorio of “Jephthah,” in Italian bravuras, and in the catches and glees, which so often formed part of the varied entertainments, at Hinchingbrook. Every Christmas, indeed, Lord Sandwich caused an oratorio to be performed, at his country house, where Miss Ray was the principal attraction, although she had several rivals in musical talent, both professional, and amateur. On one occasion Mr. Cradock, an intimate friend of Lord Sandwich’s, tells us that he accompanied his lordship, Mr. Bates, Miss Ray and another lady, to Vauxhall, where some musical friends met them, and they sang catches, and glees, in the box, to the delight of the audience, who greatly admired the beauty and vocal powers, of the fair (to them) unknown performer.
Miss Ray was remarkable, while under Lord Sandwich’s roof, for her discreet and circumspect conduct, in a most equivocal position; and his lordship appears to have been very strict, lest anyone, as he expressed himself, “should exceed the boundary line,” that he had drawn. For example, at the oratorios where she shone so conspicuously, the society were not expected to notice her, and she herself was sadly embarrassed one evening, when Lady Blake advanced between the scenes to converse with her, the singer well knowing such a step would arouse the noble host’s displeasure; a well grounded suspicion as he went so far as to say “such a trespass might occasion the overthrow of our music meetings.” The Bishop of Lincoln’s wife pays this tribute to Margaret: “She was so assiduous to please, so excellent and unassuming, I felt it cruel to sit directly opposite to her, and yet find it impossible to notice her.”
At these oratorios, the Duke of Manchester’s band generally attended, and Lord Sandwich took the direction of the kettledrums, as, indeed, he sometimes did at public music meetings, at Leicester (and elsewhere), where Mr. Cradock says: “The Earl and the Otaheitan, Omai, (whom he had brought with him) divided public attention.”
Mr. Cradock was with Lord Sandwich, when he first became acquainted with Hackman. My Lord had taken Mr. Cradock to Cambridge, to vote for a candidate for a professorship in whom he was interested, and brought his friend back with him, in his chaise to Hinchingbrook. Under the gateway they met a neighbour, Major Reynolds, with a brother officer, who was presented as Captain Hackman. Lord Sandwich, with his usual hospitality, invited the two officers to a family dinner, and in the evening, he and Miss Ray encountered Major Reynolds, and Mr. Cradock at whist, Captain Hackman preferring to overlook the game. There can be little doubt that Miss Ray inspired the young soldier with love, at first sight. Hackman at that time was on a recruiting party at Huntingdon; he became a constant visitor at Hinchingbrook, and it seems that whenever Miss Ray drove out, he constantly waylaid her, bowing low as she passed. There was evidently a great difference of opinion as to Miss Ray’s feelings, with regard to her new admirer. One account of the transaction affirms that she was not insensible to his devotion, and that the black servant, believing she was false, imparted his suspicions to Lord Sandwich. The same authority states that his Lordship taxed his beautiful companion with her inconstancy, and either through his influence, or that of Major Reynolds, Hackman obtained a recommendation to Sir John Swaine, Adjutant-general in Ireland, where he remained nearly two years. But he never forgot the beautiful Margaret, and leaving the army, he entered the Church, obtained a living in Norfolk, and wrote her a passionate love letter, in which he proposed marriage, and went so far as to promise tenderness, and protection for her children by Lord Sandwich. This offer was refused with decision, whether from fidelity to her protector, anxiety for her children’s welfare, or indifference to her adorer, we cannot say. Her situation was certainly not one of calm enjoyment. One evening at the Admiralty she complained to Mr. Cradock, that she did not believe either Lord Sandwich, or herself was safe to go out, from the fury of the mob, and that coarse ballads, and libels were sung under the windows, which looked upon the Park. Bursting into tears, she besought Mr. Cradock to intercede with Lord Sandwich, to make some settlement on her, not from mercenary motives, but because she wished to relieve my Lord from greater expense, and to go on the stage. Her voice was at its best, Italian music her forte, and she was sure that through her friend Signor Giardini, and Mr. Cradock’s friends Mrs. Brooke and Mrs. Yates, she could secure an advantageous engagement. As might have been supposed, Mr. Cradock declined to interfere, and the matter dropped.
In the meantime, Hackman, on the receipt of Miss Ray’s letter, which put a stop to his long cherished hopes, stung to the quick, and in such distress of mind, as brought him to the verge of madness, rushed up to London. He strove to effect an interview with the singing master, Signor Galli, but this was prevented by the vigilance of Lord Sandwich, who entrusted the Italian with the task of informing Mr. Hackman that Miss Ray would have no more communication with him. He took a lodging in Duke’s Court, St. Martin’s Lane, and on the 7th of April, 1779, he passed the morning in reading Blair’s Sermons, and dined with his sister, and her husband, a newly married couple. He then went out, proceeded to the Admiralty, and seeing Lord Sandwich’s coach at the door, he imagined it likely that Miss Ray might be going in it, to call on her friend Signora Galli, at her lodgings in the Haymarket. Thence he walked to the Cannon Coffee-house, Charing Cross, and watching the carriage pass, he followed it in time to see Miss Ray, and Signora Galli enter Covent Garden Theatre. On going in, he was distracted with jealousy at seeing her addressed by “a gentleman of genteel and handsome appearance,” whom he afterwards found to be Lord Coleraine. The performance was “Love in a Village.” He went out, furnished himself with a brace of loaded pistols, and returned to Covent Garden. When the play was over, he kept Miss Ray with her two companions in view, through the lobby, where there was a great crowd, until she was under the piazza, and her coach was called, in the name of Lady Sandwich. He was pushed down by a chairman, running suddenly against him, but recovered himself in time to pursue his victim to her coach, in which Signora Galli had already taken her place. Stepping between Miss Ray, who had accepted the arm of Mr. McNamara (of Lincoln’s Inn Fields), and the coach, he discharged his right hand pistol at her, and his left at himself. The beautiful and unfortunate woman, raised her hand to her head, and dropped down dead at his feet. Hackman fell at the same moment, but finding that he was still alive, he beat himself about the head, with the pistol, crying to the bystanders to kill him. The murderer, and the victim, were both carried to the Shakespeare Tavern; the corpse lay in one room, while the wounded man was attended to, in another. He enquired for her, and declared he only meant to kill himself, and had failed in his object. He was taken before Sir John Fielding, who committed him to Tothill Fields Bridewell, and afterwards to Newgate, where he was constantly watched to prevent his making away, with himself. He was attended on his trial by a friend, and on first entering the court, was much agitated, sighing, and weeping while the evidence was being given, yet at the same time showing a courageous, and even noble deportment as concerned his own fate. He made a most pathetic speech, in which he confessed his guilt, but attributed it to sudden phrensy, as regarded murder. The suicide, he said, was premeditated. He had no wish to avoid punishment; he was too unhappy to care for life, now she was gone, and he submitted himself to the judgment of Almighty God. A letter found in his pocket, to his brother-in-law, taking leave of him, and speaking in the most affectionate terms of his “beloved woman,” seemed to bear out his testimony. His hearers were much affected, but on his return to the cell he became composed, and said he was rejoiced to think, his time on earth was so short. After his sentence was passed, he received the following letter in prison:
“If the murderer of Miss —— wishes to live, the man he has most injured, will use all his interest to procure his life.”
The prisoner’s reply was as follows:
“Condemned Cell, Newgate.
“The murderer of her, whom he preferred, far preferred to life, suspects the hand from which he has just received, such an offer as he neither desires, nor deserves. His wishes are for death, not life. One wish he has: Could he be pardoned in this world, by the man he has most injured? Oh, my Lord, when I meet her in another world, enable me to tell her—if departed spirits are not ignorant of earthly things—that you forgive us both, and that you will be a father to her dear children.”
He suffered death calmly, and thus ended the career of a man, who seemed formed for better things.
Mr. Cradock, who was sincerely attached both to Lord Sandwich, and the unfortunate cause of so much sorrow, tells us that on the day following the murder, he went to the Admiralty, and saw old James, the black servant, whom he found overwhelmed with grief. It was he who began to break the terrible news to his master, when Lord Sandwich interrupted him, by bidding him “allude no more to the ballads and libels, of which he had heard enough.” “Alas,” said the faithful old man, “it is something more terrible than that.” Others then came in from the theatre and related the dreadful intelligence. Lord Sandwich, stood for awhile transfixed with horror, then raising his hand exclaimed, “I could have borne anything but this,” and rushed upstairs, desiring that no one should follow him. He shunned society, for a long time after the dreadful catastrophe, and his friend Cradock tells us, that he went to see him, and found him terribly depressed one day, sitting under the portrait of Miss Ray, “a speaking likeness;” doubtless the one in question.
By Miss Ray, Lord Sandwich had four children, viz., Admiral Montagu, Basil Montagu, Q.C., John Montagu, and Augusta, married to the Comte de Viry, of Savoy, an Admiral in the Sardinian Navy.
This beautiful portrait by Gainsborough, belonged to Admiral Montagu, and was purchased by John, seventh Earl of Sandwich, in 1857, of a picture dealer, at the instigation of Mr. Green, of Evans’s Rooms, who told him he much wished to possess it himself, having a collection of portraits of celebrities, but the price was beyond his mark.