The universal regard, which is paid by mankind to such accounts of
publick transactions as have been written by those who were engaged in
them, may be, with great probability, ascribed to that ardent love of
truth, which nature has kindled in the breast of man, and which remains
even where every other laudable passion is extinguished. We cannot but
read such narratives with uncommon curiosity, because we consider the
writer as indubitably possessed of the ability to give us just
representations, and do not always reflect, that, very often,
proportionate to the opportunities of knowing the truth, are the
temptations to disguise it.
Authors of this kind have, at least, an incontestable superiority over
those whose passions are the same, and whose knowledge is less. It is
evident that those who write in their own defence, discover often more
impartiality, and less contempt of evidence, than the advocates which
faction or interest have raised in their favour.
It is, however, to be remembered, that the parent of all memoirs, is the
ambition of being distinguished from the herd of mankind, and the fear
of either infamy or oblivion, passions which cannot but have some degree
of influence, and which may, at least, affect the writer's choice of
facts, though they may not prevail upon him to advance known falsehoods.
He may aggravate or extenuate particular circumstances, though he
preserves the general transaction; as the general likeness may be
preserved in painting, though a blemish is hid or a beauty improved.
Every man that is solicitous about the esteem of others, is, in a great
degree, desirous of his own, and makes, by consequence, his first
apology for his conduct to himself; and when he has once deceived his
own heart, which is, for the greatest part, too easy a task, he
propagates the deceit in the world, without reluctance or consciousness
of falsehood.
But to what purpose, it may be asked, are such reflections, except to
produce a general incredulity, and to make history of no use? The man
who knows not the truth cannot, and he who knows it, will not tell it;
what then remains, but to distrust every relation, and live in perpetual
negligence of past events; or, what is still more disagreeable, in
perpetual suspense?
That by such remarks some incredulity is, indeed, produced, cannot be
denied; but distrust is a necessary qualification of a student in
history. Distrust quickens his discernment of different degrees of
probability, animates his search after evidence, and, perhaps, heightens
his pleasure at the discovery of truth; for truth, though not always
obvious, is generally discoverable; nor is it any where more likely to
be found than in private memoirs, which are generally published at a
time when any gross falsehood may be detected by living witnesses, and
which always contain a thousand incidents, of which the writer could not
have acquired a certain knowledge, and which he has no reason for
disguising.
Such is the account lately published by the dutchess of Marlborough, of
her own conduct, by which those who are very little concerned about the
character which it is principally intended to preserve or to retrieve,
may be entertained and instructed. By the perusal of this account, the
inquirer into human nature may obtain an intimate acquaintance with the
characters of those whose names have crowded the latest histories, and
discover the relation between their minds and their actions. The
historian may trace the progress of great transactions, and discover the
secret causes of important events. And, to mention one use more, the
polite writer may learn an unaffected dignity of style, and an artful
simplicity of narration.
The method of confirming her relation, by inserting, at length, the
letters that every transaction occasioned, has not only set the greatest
part of the work above the danger of confutation, but has added to the
entertainment of the reader, who has now the satisfaction of forming to
himself the characters of the actors, and judging how nearly such, as
have hitherto been given of them, agree with those which they now give
of themselves.
Even of those whose letters could not be made publick, we have a more
exact knowledge than can be expected from general histories, because we
see them in their private apartments, in their careless hours, and
observe those actions in which they indulged their own inclinations,
without any regard to censure or applause.
Thus it is, that we are made acquainted with the disposition of king
William, of whom it may be collected, from various instances, that he
was arbitrary, insolent, gloomy, rapacious, and brutal; that he was, at
all times, disposed to play the tyrant; that he had, neither in great
things, nor in small, the manners of a gentleman; that he was capable of
gaining money by mean artifices, and that he only regarded his promise
when it was his interest to keep it.
There are, doubtless, great numbers who will be offended with this
delineation of the mind of the immortal William, but they whose honesty
or sense enables them to consider impartially the events of his reign,
will now be enabled to discover the reason of the frequent oppositions
which he encountered, and of the personal affronts which he was,
sometimes, forced to endure. They will observe, that it is not always
sufficient to do right, and that it is often necessary to add
gracefulness to virtue. They will recollect how vain it is to endeavour
to gain men by great qualities, while our cursory behaviour is insolent
and offensive; and that those may be disgusted by little things, who can
scarcely be pleased with great.
Charles the second, by his affability and politeness, made himself the
idol of the nation, which he betrayed and sold. William the third was,
for his insolence and brutality, hated by that people, which he
protected and enriched:--had the best part of these two characters been
united in one prince, the house of Bourbon had fallen before him.
It is not without pain, that the reader observes a shade encroaching
upon the light with which the memory of queen Mary has been hitherto
invested--the popular, the beneficent, the pious, the celestial queen
Mary, from whose presence none ever withdrew without an addition to his
happiness. What can be charged upon this delight of human kind? Nothing
less than that _she wanted bowels_, and was insolent with her power;
that she was resentful, and pertinacious in her resentment; that she
descended to mean acts of revenge, when heavier vengeance was not in her
power; that she was desirous of controlling where she had no authority,
and backward to forgive, even when she had no real injury to complain
of.
This is a character so different from all those that have been,
hitherto, given of this celebrated princess, that the reader stands in
suspense, till he considers the inconsistencies in human conduct,
remembers that no virtue is without its weakness, and considers that
queen Mary's character has, hitherto, had this great advantage, that it
has only been compared with those of kings.
The greatest number of the letters inserted in this account, were
written by queen Anne, of which it may be truly observed, that they will
be equally useful for the, confutation of those who have exalted or
depressed her character. They are written with great purity and
correctness, without any forced expressions, affected phrases, or
unnatural sentiments; and show uncommon clearness of understanding,
tenderness of affection, and rectitude of intention; but discover, at
the same time, a temper timorous, anxious, and impatient of misfortune;
a tendency to burst into complaints, helpless dependance on the
affection of others, and a weak desire of moving compassion. There is,
indeed, nothing insolent or overbearing; but then there is nothing
great, or firm, or regal; nothing that enforces obedience and respect,
or which does not rather invite opposition and petulance. She seems born
for friendship, not for government; and to be unable to regulate the
conduct of others, otherwise than by her own example.
That this character is just, appears from the occurrences in her reign,
in which the nation was governed, for many years, by a party whose
principles she detested, but whose influence she knew not how to
obviate, and to whose schemes she was subservient against her
inclination.
The charge of tyrannising over her, which was made, by turns, against
each party, proves that, in the opinion of both, she was easily to be
governed; and though it may be supposed, that the letters here published
were selected with some regard to respect and ceremony, it appears,
plainly enough, from them, that she was what she has been represented,
little more than the slave of the Marlborough family.
The inferiour characters, as they are of less importance, are less
accurately delineated; the picture of Harley is, at least, partially
drawn: all the deformities are heightened, and the beauties, for
beauties of mind he certainly had, are entirely omitted.