In 1647 the paper entitled Parliament of Ladies for that year said, ‘The rattle-headed ladies having assembled at Kate’s in the Covent Garden, and choosing a speaker, at last resolved on Lady Isabella Thynne.’ But we have dwelt perhaps too long on the vagaries of one whom we are assured ‘was most beautiful, most accomplished, most humble, most charitable.’ The destinies of the two women who had been early friends, but whose characters were so opposed, seem to have been strangely entangled. Lady Isabella was fated to cross Lady Ormonde’s path once more; the occurrence is a curious one, and is related in the life of Lord Broghill (afterwards better known as the Earl of Orrery), who was at the time in high favour with Cromwell, and had pleaded Lady Ormonde’s cause to some purpose, with the autocrat, being deeply attached to that most noble lady and her husband. He had just returned from Ireland, where he had distinguished himself, when he was summoned to the Protector’s presence.
‘If you are still interested in my Lord Ormonde’s safety,’ said Oliver, ‘you had better advise him to leave London. We know all about him, where he is, what he is doing, and he had best absent himself.’ The hint was given and taken, and Lord Ormonde left England in haste. A short time elapsed, when one day Lady Ormonde was much distressed by receiving a domiciliary visit from one of Cromwell’s functionaries, who ransacked the house, and carried away every paper he could find.
She immediately sent for her faithful friend, and besought him to intercede once more in her behalf.
Broghill lost no time, but hastened off to Whitehall, where he found the great man in a towering passion.
‘You have undertaken, indeed, for the quietness of a fine person,’ he said. ‘I have allowed my Lady Ormonde £2000 a year, out of her husband’s estates, because they were sufferers in Ireland. But I find she is a wicked woman, and I promise you she shall pay for it.’ It was some time before Lord Broghill could gain a hearing, but when he was permitted to speak, he asked what proof could be adduced of Lady Ormonde’s treachery, upon which Cromwell threw him a letter, that certainly left no doubt of the writer’s Royalist tendencies and disaffection to the existing Government.
‘This had been found,’ he said, ‘in searching the escritoire at Ormonde House.’ Lord Broghill could not help laughing. ‘But this,’ he said, ‘is not the writing of my Lady Ormonde.’
‘Indeed,’ exclaimed Cromwell angrily, ‘and pray who wrote these lines?’
Bent on saving Lady Ormonde’s credit, Lord Broghill not only told him the letter was from Lady Isabella Thynne, (between whom and Lord Ormonde there had been undoubted love-passages,) but he produced some other letters of the same lady, to identify the handwriting, and further proceeded to relate several anecdotes of a most lively nature, respecting her, which turned all Cromwell’s anger into mirth, and he laughed immoderately.
Broghill’s judicious conduct had gained Lady Ormonde’s cause. But some time afterwards she went to reside at Caen, her husband being on the Continent, and Lady Isabella having got herself into hot water once more, recalled and claimed her friend’s promise. Nor did she do so in vain: Lady Ormonde welcomed her to her house, where Isabella remained two years, during which time Lord Ormonde was a frequent visitor. We do not give the dates, as they are not clearly set down by our authorities; but to the best of our belief she was in England in 1653. Lord Clarendon tells us ‘that Hyde’s heart ached for poor Lady Isabella Thynne.’
No less a poet than Waller wrote verses to her, on her playing the lute, on her exquisite cutting of trees in paper, etc.