Some Old Time Beauties | Page 3

"A Petition to Time in favor of

the Duchess of Devonshire," and implored the Inexorable thus:--
"Hurt not the form that all admire. Oh, never with white hairs her
temple sprinkle! Oh, sacred be her cheek, her lip, her bloom! And do
not, in a lovely dimple's room, Place a hard mortifying wrinkle.
"Know shouldst thou bid the beauteous duchess fade, Thou, therefore,
must thy own delights invade; And know, 't will be a long, long while
Before thou givest her equal to our isle. Then do not with this sweet
_chef-d'oeuvre_ part, But keep to show the triumph of thy art."
A dramatic fate has befallen the original canvas. In 1875, it was sold at
auction, and was bought by a firm of dealers for the then highest price
paid for a single picture in England. The publicity gained by this was
taken advantage of by the purchasers to exhibit the picture. One
morning when the gallery was opened, the frame only was there; the
picture had vanished. The canvas is lost.

[Illustration: MARY, THE HONORABLE MRS GRAHAM by
GAINSBOROUGH]
LOVELY MARY CATHCART
Like the happiest countries that have no history, the tranquil life of
joyous content leaves little to chronicle. Only in the nobility of
character of a husband who grieved her loss for years, and in his strong
dignity, and devotion to her memory, do we get a hint of the gracious
and good lady whom Gainsborough has made immortal for us.
And in that phrase of her lifetime, "lovely Mary Cathcart," is a whole
biography of benignity and beauty. She came of one of the most
ancient and noble families in Scotland, and was the daughter of the
ninth Baron Cathcart, called "Cathcart of Fontenoy." Her brother
William became the tenth Baron, and afterwards the first Earl Cathcart.
He had studied law, but abandoned it for the army, and had a gallant
career therein; becoming a lieutenant-general in 1801, and
commander-in-chief of the expedition to Copenhagen in 1807;
afterwards acquiring reputation as ambassador for several years at St.
Petersburg. He was perhaps the earliest of British noblemen to marry
American beauties; having wedded the daughter of Andrew Elliott of
New York, in 1779.
In November, 1774, there was rejoicing among the retainers of the
House of Cathcart, for there was to be a double wedding. The eldest

daughter, "Jenny," was married to the Duke of Athole, that same Duke
who became a friendly patron of Burns, and in reference to whom the
poet writes, when addressing some verses to him: "It eases my heart a
good deal, as rhyme is the coin with which a poet pays his debts of
honor and gratitude. What I owe to the noble family of Athole, of the
first kind, I shall ever proudly boast; what I owe of the last, so help me
God, in my hour of need I shall never forget."
The second sister, the Hon. Mary, was married to Sir Thomas Graham
of Balgowan, a descendant of the Marquis of Montrose and of Graham
of Claverhouse. The youngest sister, Louisa, later became Countess of
Mansfield, and her portrait, by Romney,--a seated profile figure with
flowing draperies,--is that artist's most masterly work.
After eighteen years of happy married life, she died childless; one of
those good women that were--
"True in loving all their lives,"--
"a surpassing spirit whose light adorned the world around it." Her
husband grieved greatly. He was ordered to travel to divert his despair.
He visited Gibraltar, and there the dormant martial spirit of his
ancestors was aroused by his environment. Though then forty-three
years of age, he immediately entered the army as a volunteer. He
rapidly rose in his profession, and had an especially brilliant career in
the Peninsular War. In 1811, he became the hero of Barossa, and in the
same year was made second in command to the Duke of Wellington.
He was created Lord Lynedoch of Balgowan, Perthshire, and frequently
was thanked by Parliament for his services. Sheridan said, "Never was
there a loftier spirit in a braver heart." And alluding to his services
during the retreat to Corunna, he said, "Graham was their best adviser
in the hour of peril; and in the hour of disaster, their surest
consolation." Scott eulogizes him in the poem, "The Vision of Don
Roderick," in the lines,--
"Nor be his praise o'erpast who strove to hide Beneath the warrior's
vest affection's wound, Whose wish Heaven for his country's weal
denied; Danger and fate, he sought, but glory found.
"From clime to clime, wher'e'r war's trumpets sound, The wanderer
went; yet, Caledonia, still Thine was his thought in march and tented
ground; He dreamed mid Alpine cliffs of Athole's hill, And heard in
Ebro's roar his Lynedoch's lovely rill.

"O hero of a race renowned