The Royal Marines War Memorial in The Mall, London. At the time, The Mall was a wide avenue of trees and gravel paths for walking or riding: see Wikimedia Commons for an etching from 1750.
Part 1 of 2
THE Duke of Montagu,* who resided in St James’s Park, frequently observed a middle-aged man in something like a military dress, of which the lace was much tarnished, and the cloth worn threadbare. He always appeared at a certain hour in the Mall. His countenance was grave and solemn; and he took no notice of the gay crowd that was passing by him. The Duke singled him out as a fit object for a frolic.
He began by inquiring into his history. He soon learned that he was a reduced officer upon half-pay; that he had behaved with great bravery in the late war;* that he had a wife and several children, whom he was obliged to send into Yorkshire, where they could live cheap; and that he reserved a small pittance of his income to keep himself near the metropolis, where alone he could hope to obtain a more advantageous situation.
John Montagu, 2nd Duke of Montagu (1690-1749) was well-known for his practical jokes. He was, however, as kind as he was absurd. He was a generous benefactor of the Foundling Hospital in London, and fostered the education of Ignatius Sancho (?1729-1780), a British subject of African descent who had been born into slavery in Colombia.
Two major conflicts in the Duke’s lifetime were The War of the Spanish Succession (1702-1713) and The War of the Austrian Succession (1740-1748). The latter included the Jacobite Rising of 1745, for which Montagu had raised a cavalry regiment, Montagu’s Carabineers, which was disbanded following the Battle of Culloden of April 16th, 1746.
Part Two
John, 2nd Duke of Montagu (1690-1749), painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller (1646-1723), just after succeeding to the title in 1709. Time did little to blunt the edge of his boyish humour. ‘All his talents’ wrote his vexed mother-in-law Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, many years later ‘lie in things only natural in boys of fifteen years old, and he is about two and fifty; to get people into his garden and wet them with squirts, and to invite people to his country houses, and put things into their beds to make them itch, and twenty such pretty fancies like these.’
THE Duke took an opportunity, when the Captain was sitting alone upon one of the benches, buried in speculation, to send his servant to him with compliments and an invitation to dinner the next day. Though very much surprised, he said he would wait upon his Grace at the time appointed.
The Duke received him with great civility, took him aside, and informed him that he was induced to give him this invitation at the particular request of a lady who had a most tender regard for him. The Captain entered the room with great curiosity and wonder, which was not diminished when he saw at the table his own wife and children. The wife was as much astonished as the husband.
Soon after dinner, word was brought that the Duke’s solicitor attended. He was introduced, and pulled out a deed for the Duke to sign. The captain and his wife were still more astonished, if possible, when they found the writings contained a settlement of £200 per annum* upon them and their family.
In the 1740s, the Duke and Duchess of Beaufort paid on average £10 10s to their maidservants per annum, and £18 9s to their menservants. Figures from ‘Domestic Service and Gender, 1660-1750: Life and work in the London Household’ (2000), by Tim Meldrum.
