Dissatisfaction of the Countess of Marlborough—Formation of the new
Cabinet—Her efforts to convert the Queen—Quarrels with Lord
Rochester—Reports concerning the sale of offices—The Duchess’s
sentiments on the proper mode of such appointments—Cabals within the
court.
1701–2. The Countess of Marlborough viewed all these changes with a very
dissatisfied mind. “The wrong-headed politicians,” as she designated
them, who succeeded those “who had been firm to the Revolution,” found,
in her, a determined, and, what was more to their injury, a persevering
enemy. The Countess did not, after the manner of her sex, break out into
loud invectives at these ministerial appointments, nor excite the Queen,
if that were possible, by violent arguments, to maintain a cause which
always becomes dearer to ladies in proportion to the frequency of the
attacks made upon it. Sagacious, though resolute, she resolved, from the
very beginning of the Queen’s reign, “to try whether she could not, by
degrees, make impressions on her, more favourable to the Whigs.” The
difficulties of her task would have deterred a less ardent character;
and the zeal with which she accomplished her purpose argues, in some
measure, for the reality and genuineness of her principles; for if, as
it was broadly stated, offices were avowedly sold by Lady Marlborough,
it could be of little importance to her, supposing that she were
governed solely by such base motives as were imputed to her, which party
had the ascendency, as long as she herself remained in favour.
“As to private interest,” remarks the Duchess, “the Whigs could have
done nothing for my advantage more than the Tories. I needed not the
assistance of either to ingratiate me with the Queen; she had, both
before and since her accession, given the most unquestionable proofs
that she considered me, not only as a most faithful servant, but as her
dear friend.[409]
“It is plain, therefore,” continues the Duchess, “that I could have no
motive of private interest to bias me in favour of the Whigs; everybody
must see that had I consulted that oracle about the choice of a party,
it would certainly have directed me to go with them to the stream of my
mistress’s inclination and prejudice. This would have been the surest
way to secure my favour with her.”[410]
She appears, nevertheless, from one of the Queen’s letters, never to
have abated in her zeal for the Whig principles, on account of the
Queen’s often avowed predilections for the Tories. “Your poor,
unfortunate, faithful Morley,” writes Anne, who, after the death of the
Duke of Gloucester, added the last epithet to those terms of affection
which she generally used, “would not have you differ in opinion with her
in the least thing. And upon my word, my dear Mrs. Freeman,” she adds,
“you are mightily mistaken in your notion of a Tory. For the character
you give of them does not belong to them, but to the church. But I will
say no more on this subject, but only beg, for my poor sake, that you
would not show more countenance to those you seem to have so much
inclination for than for the church party.”[411] Such was the style in
which the Queen of England addressed her subject, about a year after her
accession. But it is probable that even at this time Anne began to fear,
rather than to love this female keeper of her royal conscience.
The world, at least the court world, all contributed, of course, to
intoxicate, by interested adulation, the haughty, rather than vain mind
of the groom of the stole and keeper of the privy purse. The Whigs, whom
Lady Marlborough declared she regarded as her personal enemies, paid her
but little respect, but the Tories were ready to overwhelm her with
compliments, upon any little service, paid or unpaid, which she might
condescend to perform for one of their party. Lord Rochester, whom the
Countess never forgave for having recommended Queen Anne to send her to
St. Albans during the disputes between the two royal sisters,[412]
condescended to write her a “very fine piece,” when a vacancy occurred
in the Queen’s household, and when it was his desire that his
daughter,[413] Lady Dalkeith, first cousin to her Majesty, should be
made one of the ladies of the bedchamber. “I confess,” says the Duchess,
“indeed, I was not a little surprised at this application from his
lordship. I thank God, I have experience enough of my own temper to be
very sure I can forgive any injury, when the person from whom I have
received it shows anything like repentance. But could I ever be so
unfortunate as to persecute another without cause, as my Lord Rochester
did me, I am confident that even want of bread could not induce me to
ask a favour of that person; but surely his lordship had something very
uncommon in his temper.”[414]
The appointment was not given to Lady Dalkeith, on the pretext that the
number of ladies fixed by the Queen had been exceeded during the
lifetime of the deceased lady whom Lady Dalkeith had wished to succeed;
to which was added the declaration, that upon the first vacancy the list
was to be reduced to ten, which number the Queen considered sufficient.
This, probably, was merely an excuse. The Duchess, indeed, declares that
she could have forgiven his lordship’s ill-treatment of herself, if she
had thought that he sought to promote the Queen’s true interest. “But
the gibberish of that party,” as she calls it, “about non-resistance,
and passive obedience, and hereditary right, I could not think it
forebode any good to my mistress, whose title rested on a different
foundation.” She therefore naturally desired to keep Lord Rochester, a
high churchman from hereditary principles, and his family, as much from
the Queen’s presence as she possibly could; whilst she endeavoured by
all possible means to work upon the opinions of the well-disposed, but
shallow and obstinate Anne.
It is not such minds as those either of the Queen or the favourite, that
are open to conviction. “I did,” says the Duchess, “speak very freely
and very frequently to her Majesty upon the subject of Whig and Tory,
according to my conception of their different views and
principles.”[415] The Queen had, indeed, assured her that she could not
give her a greater proof of her friendship than in speaking plainly to
her on all things; and of this proof the Countess was ever disposed to
give her Majesty the full experience and benefit.
The Queen had not long ascended the throne, before an order in council
was issued, to “prohibit the selling of places within her Majesty’s
household.” But this, it was observed, was not done, until Lady
Marlborough had disposed of a considerable number.[416] Indeed, from the
testimony of various historians, this practice, on the Countess’s part,
appears to have been notorious; yet how can her noble professions be
made to agree with her alleged shameless corruption?
“If I had power to dispose of places,” she writes to Lord Godolphin,
“the first rule I would have would be, to have those that were proper
for the business; the next, those that deserved upon any occasion; and
whenever there was room, without hurting the public, I think one would
with pleasure give employments to those who were in so unhappy a
condition as to want them.”[417]
Upon the disinterestedness or the cupidity of Lady Marlborough’s
disposition, and respecting the sincerity of her professions, posterity
is far more likely to put a fair and just construction than were her
jealous and party-inflamed contemporaries.
The conduct of the Queen, in throwing her government chiefly into the
hands of the Tories, was attributed to the understanding between Lord
Marlborough and that party, that the war with France and the grand
alliance should be continued; a measure upon which he founded the basis
of his future fortunes.[418] By some writers it was insinuated, that a
difference of opinion upon political subjects existed between the Earl
and his Countess; and that the Queen’s first political changes were
promoted by Lord Marlborough in opposition to the Countess, and
accomplished for the purpose of being at the head of the grand
confederacy: and it was surmised that he fell into the Queen’s
inclinations to favour the Tories, contrary to the wishes of his Whig
consort.[419] By another partisan of the high church party it has been
declared, that when Queen Anne came to the throne, both the Earl and
Countess of Marlborough were the “staunchest Tories in the kingdom;” and
that the subsequent change of politics was accounted for by jealousy of
the Queen’s relations, Prince George and Lord Rochester, whose influence
was obnoxious to those who would not be contented with a divided rule.
“Hence,” says this writer, “these two noble personages now mentioned,
thought fit to put themselves at the head of the Whig interest, which
they knew they could manage without fears of a rival.”[420]
Meantime, the administration of the late King’s affairs led to much
discontent, and gave rise to shameless peculation. “This was an age,”
says a contemporary writer, “when such a spirit of rapacity prevailed,
that not only were bad men greedy of gain, but even those that were
reputed men of virtue endeavoured to bring all things into confusion, so
that they might acquire to themselves preferments, titles, and
honours.”[421] Godolphin, whose character for probity stood well with
all parties, descended so far as to advise the Queen not to pay the late
King’s debts, or, at least, only so much as he thought proper to allow.
He discharged the claims of those who could exercise the greatest
political interest; others he delayed; others disallowed; a proceeding
dishonourable to the Lord Treasurer, the more especially as the King had
left assets enough to satisfy all demands, independent of aid from the
Exchequer. And whilst this ill-advised frugality was disgraceful in the
extreme, it was likewise inconsistent with the laws of England, by which
every just claimant is entitled to protection.[422] The Prince of
Denmark presented the King’s equipages and horses to Lord Grantham, the
master of the horse. The Queen took the royal ensigns of the Order of
the Garter. When the rest of King William’s goods and furniture were to
be divided, Lord Montague threatened the Countess of Marlborough with a
prosecution for his share, which, it is presumed, he suspected her
ladyship of appropriating; but the favourite contrived to pacify the
angry nobleman, and to effect an union by marriage between her own and
Lord Montague’s family.[423]
Upon the return of Lord Marlborough from Holland, the Queen announced to
both Houses of Parliament her intention of declaring war against France,
and this measure being approved, war was proclaimed on the fourth of
May.
The succession was now settled, and the Electress Sophia of Hanover was
ordered to be prayed for by her christian name, indicating that her
title to the throne was by her own blood. Towards this Princess, eminent
for her accomplishments and personal character, Anne evinced throughout
her reign far more jealousy than she ever manifested towards the young
Pretender, lately proclaimed in France, King of Great Britain. It was
reported, immediately after the death of William the Third, that that
monarch had left among his papers a scheme for setting aside his
sister-in-law from the succession, for bringing in the House of Hanover,
and even for imprisoning Anne to effect this purpose. The Tories, in
order to influence the elections, talked loudly and confidently of the
truth of these reports. Five commissioners, namely, the Dukes of
Somerset and Devonshire, the Earls Marlborough, Jersey, and Albemarle,
were empowered to examine his late Majesty’s papers, in order to prove
the truth or falsehood of these rumours. Eventually they were declared
by a vote of the House of Commons to be false and scandalous.[424]
The oath of abjuration, notwithstanding a general expectation to the
contrary, was taken by both Houses of Parliament, with, however, a
mental reservation by many, that the right of the pretended Prince of
Wales, solemnly abjured by them, was a legal, and not a divine right, or
birthright; nor did they consider their abjuration binding in case of a
revolution or a conquest. “This,” says Burnet, “was too dark a thing to
be inquired after, or seen into, in the state matters were then in.” Yet
the lurking spirit of disaffection, like a blight, had its unseen but
perceptible influence upon all classes of society; more especially upon
that which, struggling to hold the reins of empire, was harassed by
party clamour. The well-known, and, it must be acknowledged, excusable
partiality of the Queen for her own family, kept alive the spirit of
Jacobitism in the country. Lady Marlborough fearlessly spoke her
sentiments to the Queen on this subject.
“When I saw,” she observes, “she had such a partiality to those that I
knew to be Jacobites, I asked her one day whether she had a mind to give
up her crown; for if it had been her conscience not to wear it, I do
solemnly protest I would not have disturbed her, or struggled as I did.
But she told me she was not sure the Prince of Wales was her brother,
and that it was not practicable for him to come here, without ruin to
the religion and country.”[425]
Whilst this struggle for power was carried on between parties at home,
Marlborough was negociating in Holland for a continuance of that
alliance which raised his prosperity to its height. The French monarch,
on the death of William, had in vain endeavoured to detach the Dutch
from the English interest. The personal influence of Marlborough, and
his talents as a negociator, completely frustrated this attempt on the
part of Louis; but some time elapsed before he could, with equal
success, arrange another matter of dispute. The Queen was extremely
desirous that her husband, the Prince of Denmark, should succeed to the
command of the united forces, and, in a great measure, supply the place
of the late King in Holland. The Dutch were by no means agreeable to
this proposition, which was, in the first instance, made an absolute
condition by the Queen. Prince George had the ambition to desire,
without the talent to acquire distinction; he was, moreover, a confirmed
invalid, and of a very moderate capacity for anything, especially for
military operations. The States, therefore, offered to Marlborough the
powers which he had negociated to obtain for Prince George, and that
great general deemed it expedient to accept their proposals, and to
return to England, to expound all that had passed between him and the
States, and to maintain the necessity of promoting a good understanding
between them and England.
Lord Rochester, in the council, with other Tories who were favourable to
the French interests, loudly opposed a war which they foresaw would
augment the power of Marlborough, and consequently of his lady and her
Whig friends. But, notwithstanding these clamours, war was proclaimed on
the fourth of May, in London, at the Hague, and Vienna; and Marlborough
once more set sail from the English shores, and repaired to Holland. But
whilst the measures which he advocated were thus carried into effect,
Lord Marlborough had the mortification to perceive a growing coolness
between himself and Lord Rochester, an impetuous and well-intentioned
man, between whom and Lord Marlborough there had been a friendship of
long standing, unshaken by Lady Marlborough’s dislikes and
bickerings.[426] In quitting the shores of England, the great general
experienced, in the midst of many sources of vexation, how invariably
the eminent, and the successful, pay a tax to the rest of mankind for
the possession of their envied advantages. Marlborough, hurried from one
kingdom to another—harassed by the loss of friends—fortunate, but not
happy—would, in certain seasons of depression, have gladly exchanged all
his bright prospects and high honours, for the leisure of Holywell, and
for the real affection of his idolized wife. Lady Marlborough
accompanied him to Margate, where her husband was detained for some days
by contrary winds. At last the wind changed; the vessel was ready to
sail; the signal to depart was given. Lord Marlborough, who had been
solicitous for war, ardent in the expectation of reaping honours on the
plains of Holland, eager to depart, saw the signal which summoned him,
with unwonted anguish. He contemplated, perhaps, years of separation
from her to whom, in absence, every fond thought was given; who, though
past the bloom of youth, was the object of an attachment almost
romantic—an attachment, enthusiastic as it was, which elevated the noble
and affectionate heart of the great Marlborough. Since the accession of
Anne, his domestic comfort had indeed been impaired by the altered
position of his spoiled and arbitrary wife. The event which called her
forth into public life, called forth also passions which embittered the
intercourse between her and the good, the moderate, the kind-hearted
Marlborough. It was in vain that he had endeavoured to control her
vehement enmities, or to subdue her eager desire of interference in
political affairs. Her busy spirit was not kept in subjection by any of
that useful fear which sometimes serves as a restraint, on important
occasions, to women who, in the minor concerns of life, can act the
tyrant with a resolution worthy of a reasonable cause.
Lady Marlborough was not restrained, by any respect for the
understanding of the Queen, from intruding her notions on politics, when
unbidden or unwelcome. Her high spirit had been wounded, unpardonably,
by the appointment of a Tory ministry, in direct opposition to her
wishes; and she chose not, even whilst obliged to submit, to permit the
Queen to enjoy her sovereign pleasure unmolested. Incessant bickerings,
in which Marlborough and Godolphin were obliged to interfere, and to
soothe the angry passions of “Queen Sarah,” as she was popularly called,
had already begun to weaken the ardent friendship of Mrs. Freeman and
Mrs. Morley, while they embittered the life of Lord Marlborough in
another way. Both Lord Godolphin and the Duke considered it their duty,
in such disputes, to take the Queen’s part. Doubtless, as far as
fluency, courage, and perseverance were concerned, it was obviously the
weaker side; but, in the adjustment of these differences, Lord
Marlborough and his wife were often opposed in opinions; and Godolphin
and Marlborough must infallibly have been disposed to agree with their
subsequent foe, Harley. “I see,” said that consummate courtier, “no
difference between a mad Whig and a mad Tory.”[427]
Matrimonial differences were the result of these rencontres; and the
temperate, benevolent Marlborough suffered keenly from the occasional
irritability of a wife, to purchase whose affections he would, as it
appears from his letters, have made any sacrifice but that of principle.
Notwithstanding all these painful remembrances, the bonds of domestic
life, which he was leaving, had abundant charms to rivet the noble heart
of the most humane, the most exemplary of heroes. Lord Marlborough, who
could face the enemies of his country undaunted, was overwhelmed with
grief when he bade his wife and family farewell. He hastened on board
the vessel, to conceal the agitation which he could not master. How
beautiful, how touching, is the following letter, written by him from on
board the vessel, shortly after this parting!
“It is impossible to express with what a heavy heart I parted with you
when I was at the waterside. I could have given my life to have come
back, though I knew my own weakness so much that I durst not, for I
should have exposed myself to the company. I did, for a great while,
with a perspective glass, look upon the cliffs, in hopes I might have
had one sight of you. We are now out of sight of Margate, and I have
neither soul nor spirits; but I do at this minute suffer so much, that
nothing but being with you can recompense it. If you will be sensible of
what I now feel, you will endeavour ever to be easy to me, and then I
shall be most happy, for it is only you that can give me true content. I
pray God to make you and yours happy, and if I could contribute anything
to it with the utmost hazard of my life, I should be glad to do
it.”[428]
What can we say to the woman who could undervalue such affection, and
fritter away the happiness, the glory of being Marlborough’s wife, in
petty intrigues and heart-burnings which marred their matrimonial
felicity. Some qualities there must have been, generous and attaching in
her character, which attracted, in spite of the vexations raised by her
provoking activity and interference—in spite even of temper, that word
of mighty import in the catalogue of human woes—the ever-returning
affection of her husband towards her. The most gentle, the most
irreproachable of wives could scarcely have deserved proofs of tender
consideration more touching than the foregoing and following letters;
and, probably, to speak seriously, would not have received them. It is a
remarkable fact, that the most arrogant women often inspire the greatest
devotion in those to whom fate has united them, especially if the
partner of that lot be of a gentle and clinging disposition.
“I do assure you,” writes the great Marlborough, on occasion of some
political broil, “I had much rather the whole world should go wrong than
you should be uneasy, for the quiet of my life depends only on your
kindness. I beg you to believe that you are dearer to me than all things
in the world. My temper may make you and myself sometimes uneasy; but
when I am alone, and I find you kind, if you knew the true quiet I have
in my mind, you would then be convinced of my being entirely yours, and
that it is in no other power in this world to make me happy but
yourself.”
On another occasion he adds, “’Tis impossible, my dearest soul, to
imagine the uneasy thoughts I have every day, in thinking that I have
the curse, at my age, of being in a foreign country from you, and, at
the same time, with very little prospect of being able to do any
considerable service for my country.”[429]
And again:—
“_July 17, 1702—from the Meuse._
“We have now very hot weather, which I hope will ripen the fruit at St.
Albans. When you are there, pray think how happy I should be walking
alone with you. No ambition can make me amends for being from you. If it
were not impertinent, I should desire you in every letter to give my
humble duty to the Queen, for I do serve her in heart and soul.[430]
“I am on horseback, or answering letters all day long; for, besides the
business of the army, I have letters from the Hague, and all places
where her Majesty has any ministers; so that if it were not for my zeal
for her service, I should certainly desert, for you know, of all things,
I do not love writing.”
At another time he writes to her, “I am very impatient for the arrival
of Devrell, you having given me hopes of a long letter by him; for
though we differ sometimes in our opinion, I have nothing here gives me
so much pleasure as your letters; and believe me, my dearest soul, that
if I had all the applause, and even the whole world given me, I could
not be happy if I had not your esteem and love.”[431]