THE CORNWALLIS FAMILY.
The death was lately announced of two of the last survivors—only one of the name is now left—of a family whose chief played a very conspicuous, and for himself unfortunate, part in this country a century ago—the marquis Cornwallis. His only son, who married a daughter of the celebrated match-making duchess of Gordon, left no male issue, but five daughters. Two of them, the countess of St. Germans—wife of the earl who accompanied the prince of Wales on his visit here—and Lady Braybrook, died some years ago; and recently Lady Mary Ross, whose husband edited the correspondence of the first marquis, and Lady Louisa, who never married, have also gone to their graves.
The family of Cornwallis is very ancient, and can point to many distinguished members. Its ancestral seat is at Brome, in Suffolk. This is a fine old mansion, and the hall, which is very lofty and open to the roof, is an excellent specimen of the work of other days. The chapel contains capital oak carving. In the village church there are monuments worth notice of the family.
Following the fate of so many other places, Brome passed after the death of the second marquis to a novus homo, one Matthias Kerrison, who, having begun life as a carpenter, contrived in various ways to acquire a colossal fortune. His son rose to distinction in the army, obtained a seat in Parliament, which he held for thirty years, and was created a baronet.
He left at his death a son and three daughters. The former, long married, is childless. The sisters are respectively the wives of Earl Stanhope, the well-known historian; Lord Henniker, a wealthy Suffolk proprietor; and Lord Bateman. It is understood that under the late baronet's will the son of the last will, in the event of the present baronet dying childless, succeed to the property. It will thus be observed that Brome, after having been for four centuries in one family, is destined to change hands repeatedly in a few years.
When the second Marquis Cornwallis died sonless, the marquisate became extinct, but the earldom passed to his first cousin. This nobleman, by no means an able or admirable person, married twice. By his first marriage he had a daughter, who married Charles Wykeham-Martin, Esq., M.P., whose father, by a concatenation of chances, became the owner of Leeds Castle, near Maidstone, in Kent—a splendid moated baronial pile, dating from the thirteenth century, but added to and improved in admirable taste. Leeds was formerly the property of the Fairfax family, whose chief, the present lord, resides near Washington. It came to them from the once famous family of Colepepper.
Earl Cornwallis married a second time late in life, and had an only daughter, Lady Julia. From that time his one idea seemed to be to accumulate for this child, and accordingly at his death she was the greatest heiress in England, her long minority serving to add immensely to her father's hoards. Of course, when the time approached for her entering society under the chaperonage of her cousins, the marquis's daughters, speculation was very rife in the London world as to whom she would marry, and many a mamma of high degree cast sheep's eyes at the heiress, and thought how charmingly her accumulations would serve to clear the encumbrances on certain acres. But they were not kept long in suspense. One night during the London season, when the ladies Cornwallis gave a grand ball, a damper was cast over the proceedings, so far at least as aspirants to the heiress's money-bags were concerned, by the announcement of her engagement. Said a lady to a gentleman in the course of that evening, "Most extraordinary! There seem to be no men in the room to-night." "Why, of course not," was the rejoinder, "after this fatal news." Lady Julia's choice fell upon a young officer in the Guards, Viscount Holmesdale, eldest son of Earl Amherst. Lord Holmesdale was unexceptionable in point of position, but his pecuniary position was such as to make one hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year a very agreeable addition to his income. It may, however, be a satisfaction to those less richly endowed with this world's goods than Lady Holmesdale to reflect that being an heiress generally proves rather the reverse of a passport to matrimonial bliss; and by all accounts she is no exception to the usual fate in this respect. We can't have everything in this world.
Lady Holmesdale's property was tied up by her old father (whose whole thoughts were given to this end, and who was in the habit of carrying his will on his person) to such a degree that in the event of her death her husband can only derive a very slight benefit from his wife's property beyond the insurances which may have been effected on her life. She is childless, and has very precarious health. Her principal seat is Linton Park, near Maidstone, Kent, in which county she is the largest landowner. In the event of her dying without issue, her estates pass to the son of Major Fiennes Cornwallis, who was second son of the late Mr. Wykeham-Martin by Lady Holmesdale's elder half-sister.
A cousin of Lady Holmesdale, Miss Cornwallis, the last representative of a third branch, died some years ago. This lady, who possessed rare literary and social acquirements, bequeathed her property to Major Wykeham-Martin, who thereupon changed his name to Cornwallis. The major, a gallant officer, one of those of whom Tennyson says,
Into the jaws of death
Rode the six hundred,
only survived the Balaklava charge to die a few years later through an accident in the hunting-field. "A fine, modest young officer," was Thackeray's verdict about him, when, after dinner at "Tom Phinn's," a noted bachelor barrister of eminence whose little dinners were not the least agreeable in London, the story of that famous ride had been coaxed out of the young militaire, who, if left to himself, would never have let you have a notion that he had seen such splendid service. The only Cornwallis now left is Lady Elizabeth, granddaughter of the first marquis.