Some Old Time Beauties | Page 3

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 of old, Whose war-cry oft has waked the battle swell!"
Old Dr. John Brown, of Edinburgh, wrote of a late Duke of Athole: "Courage, endurance, stanchness, fidelity, and warmth of heart, simplicity, and downrightness, were his staples." They are ever the staples of the Scotch character, and they were all pre-eminent in Sir Thomas. His life was