The queen's comrade : the life and times of Sarah, duchess of Marlborough

-

( 7///.'

.'. • o /

QUEEN'S
COM RADE

The Life and Times
of Sarah Duchess of
Marl borough. By
FITZGERALD MOLLOY

Author of " The Most Gorgeous
Lady Blessington" "Court Life
<Below Stairs9yy « The Life and
Adventures of Peg Woffington "

WITH 18 PORTRAITS
AND ILLUSTRATIONS

VOL. II

London

HUTCHINSON & CO.

NEW YORK: DODD MEAD AND COMPANY
1901

PRINTED BY

HAZELL, WATSON, AND VINEY, LD.
LONDON AND AYLESBURY, ENGLAND.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II

CHAPTER I

PAGE

London Town in Ancient Times — Class Distinctions — The Suburb of
Kensington — Picturesque Thoroughfares and Their Frequenters —
Quaint Signs — Street Criers and Their Wares — Hackney Coaches
and Their Swearing Drivers — Sedan Chairs and Their Bearers —
A Gang of Devils — The Mohawks and Their Practices — Lady
Wentworth is frighted — A New Invention enlightens the Street —
St. James's Coffee House and Its Customers — The Great Whig
Lords — White's Coffee House and Those Who flocked there— With
the Parsons in St. Paul's Churchyard — Description of the Young
Man's Coffee House — A Favourite Resort of the Beau — Good Com-
pany at Button's — Addison, Dick Steele, Dr. Garth, Nicholas Rowe,
William Congreve, and Dean Swift — Gambling at Tom's Coffee
House — A Young Man from the University — Playing for a Wife —
With the Players at the Bedford — Betterton, Dogget, Booth, and
Colley Gibber — My Lord Marlborough's Favourite — State of the
Stage — Queen Anne's Proclamation regarding the Playhouses — The
First Censor — Descriptions of the Theatres — Her Majesty's Love of
Horse-racing 327

CHAPTER II

The Duke of Marlborough's Ardent Letters to His Wife— The Victory
of Blenheim — Rejoicings in London — Thanksgiving in St. Paul's —
Procession of the Trophies of War — Substantial Rewards to per-
petuate the Memory of Great Services — The Ancient and Royal
Manor of Woodstock — Its Historic Associations — The building of
Blenheim Palace — A Magnificent Miniature — The Prince of Wales
and His Sister Anne — Proposals to invite the Electress Sophia to
England— The Queen's Displeasure — Growing Estrangement be-
tween Her Majesty and Her Favourite — Complaints of a Cold
Letter — The Duchess writes plainly— Lord Sunderland is made
Secretary of State — The Victory of Ramillies— Fresh Rejoicings
followed by New Favours to the Duke— The Duchess coldly thanks
Her Sovereign — Erection of Marlborough House— The Oak King
Charles planted — The Queen humbly explains . . . .351

iii

Contents of DoL n

CHAPTER III PAGE

Admiral George Churchill is suspected by the Duchess — Abigail Hill
and Her Family — The Queen's Friendship for Her Bedchamber
Woman — A Design "deeply laid" — Abigail's Secret Marriage —
The Queen takes her Furtive Way to Dr. Arbuthnot's Lodgings —
The Duchess hears of It — Expostulates with the Sovereign — Writes
to the Duke — Explanatory Letter from Her Majesty — Influence of
Robert Harley — Extraordinary Letter from the Duchess to Her
Majesty — Abigail writes to Her Kinswoman — The Queen's
Affectionate Note — Abigail's Marriage is acknowledged — Two
Unions Which divert the Town — The Queen thinks Abigail
mightily in the Right — Abigail visits the Duchess — A Woman
raised from the Dust — Her Grace's Anger with Abigail — The Queen
"looked very uneasy" — The Duchess "puts on an Easy Appearance" 385

CHAPTER IV

A Troublesome Year for the Queen — Her Unwillingness to part with
Robert Harley— Difficulties with Her Council— The Duchess of
Marlborough's Request — Her Letter to the Queen — News of an
Invasion — Anne's Regard for Her Brother — Who for the First
Time is spoken of as The Pretender — Her Majesty's Dread of the
House of Hanover — The Queen is lectured by the Duke of Marl-
borough — Her Meek Reply — The Duchess is once more wrathful —
Commands Her Sovereign to be silent — Letters from Her Grace —
Replies from the Queen — Her Majesty goes to Bath — Illness of
Prince George — An Italian Magician offers to heal Him — Prevalent
Belief in Occult Power — Fortune-tellers and Astrologers — John
Partridge, Student in Physick and Astrology — Dean Swift's Joke
and Its Consequences— Prince George dies — The Duchess and the
Queen — Jealousy of Abigail — Parliament wishes Her Majesty to
marry again — Her Judicious Reply — Court Mourning — The Duchess
writes to the Queen — Her Majesty complains to the Duke of His
Wife — The Latter has a Violent Interview with Her Sovereign —
The Duke again speaks of retiring 411

CHAPTER V

Ministers consult about a Bedchamber Woman — The Queen dreads the
Loss of Abigail— Her Secret Petition to Her Tory Friends— What
Peter Wentworth has to say — Common Discourse of the Town —
Her Majesty slighted by the Duchess of Marlborough — Her Words
repeated and exaggerated to the Queen— Desires to wait on the
Sovereign — Her Majesty's Dread of an Interview— The Duchess
hurries to Kensington Palace — Is admitted to the Royal Presence —
Interview and Conversation with the Queen — Their Final Parting —
Insolent Letter from Her Grace— The Queen determines to dismiss
Lord Sunderland — The Duke and Duchess beg Her to retain Him
— Her Majesty's Reproach to the Duchess — Who forwards Her
Some Private Letters — The Queen's Brief Reply — Lord Dartmouth
receives the Seals of Office— His One Great Defect— Lord Godolphin
sends William Penn with a Message to the New Secretary of State . 451

Contents of IDoL n

CHAPTER VI

PAGE

The Duke of Marlborough writes to the Exiled Queen— Her Majesty's
Answer — Lord Godolphin is dismissed— Flings His Staff of Office
into the Grate — The Duchess of Marlborough is enraged — Plot to
punish Her Majesty— Is forbidden the Court— Endeavours to frighten
the Sovereign— Her Estimate of the Queen— Threatens to publish
Her Majesty's Letters— The Duke of Shrewsbury is employed to
recover Them— Why Their Publication was prevented — The Duke
of Marlborough's Return— He is advised to get rid of His Wife-
Interview with the Queen— Brings a Penitent Letter from the
Duchess— Her Majesty is determined to deprive Her of all Her
Offices— Mortification of the Duke Who throws Himself on His
Knees— The Queen demands the Gold Keys of Office— Which the
Duchess flings at Her Husband's Head— A Glimpse at the Ducal
Household— The Duchess abuses Her Sovereign— The Duke thinks
there is no Help for it — The Queen complains of Her House being
pulled to Pieces 475

CHAPTER VII

Queen Bess's Day — Arrest of the Pope and the Devil — They are viewed
by Dean Swift and the Town — The Duchess of Marlborough designs
to keep Assemblies — The Remarks of a Country Gentleman — The
Duke of Marlborough is accused of Peculations — And dismissed the
Army — He writes to Her Majesty — Seeks the Friendly Services of
Lord Dartmouth— Duels are fought — But very Odd Figures at Court
— The Queen gives Prince Eugene a Sword — Plot against Her
Majesty— The Duke of Marlborough intends to make a Ball —
Abigail is made a Great Lady — The Queen's Concern for Her
Brother — Who writes to Her — She consults the Duke of Bucking-
ham — Abigail and the French Envoy — The Duchess employs
Pamphleteers to abuse the Queen and the Government — And is
libelled in Return — The Duke complains — Death of Lord Godolphin
at St. Albans — The Duke of Marlborough goes into Exile — Cause
of His leaving England — The Duchess's Farewell affronts to the
Queen — Her Letters from Abroad— The Duke's Offers of His
Service by Turns to the Court of St. Germains and the House of
Hanover 491

CHAPTER VIII

Queen Anne suffers — Unable to take Exercise — Anxiety regarding Her
Brother — Refuses to sanction a Proclamation against Him — Will
not allow the Elector of Hanover to reside in England — Baron
Schutz is forbidden the Court — Writes to the Electress Sophia —
The Queen's Letters to Hanover are published through the Agency
of the Duchess of Marlborough — Tom D'Urfey is rewarded for His
Doggerel Lines on the Princess — Sudden Death of the Latter — The

Contents of tflol* n

PAGE

Duchess of Maryborough's Letter — Lady Masham taunts Lord
Oxford — The Queen and Her Wrangling Ministers — Dismissed the
Dragon — Her Majesty swoons at a Cabinet Council — Dreads another
Meeting — Is found gazing at a Clock — Taken ill — Lady Masham
writes to Dean Swift — And Peter Wentworth to His Brother — The
Sovereign raves about Her Brother — Cabinet Councils are held —
Secret Conclaves in Lady Masham's Apartments — Dr. Radcliffe is
sent for — Queen Anne dies and George I. is peaceably proclaimed . 521

CHAPTER IX

The Duke of Marlborough returns to London — Peter Wentworth's
Comments on His Entry — His Grace's First Disappointment —
Illness of Lady Sunderland — Death of Lady Bridgewater — Intro-
duction to England of Inoculation — Hostility to the Practice by
Doctors and Parsons — George I. lands at Greenwich — Description
by an Eye Witness of His Entry into London — Appointments at
Court and in the Government — The Duchess and Walpole — Lord
Oxford is sent to the Tower — The Rising in Scotland — Death of
Lady Sunderland — Her Letter to Her Husband— The Duke of
Marlborough has a Paralytic Stroke — Recovers and goes to Bath —
Letter from Her Grace — Concerning the building of Blenheim
Palace — The Duke is again attacked by Paralysis — The Duchess
takes Him to Marlborough House — Some Account of that Residence
— Her Grace employs Sir John Vanbrugh to arrange a Marriage for
Her Granddaughter with the Duke of Newcastle — Correspondence
between Them and Subsequent Quarrel — Why Lord Oxford was
never brought to Trial — Hatred of the Duchess to the Government
— She is accused of aiding James Stuart — Her Interview with
George I. — His Majesty's Reply to Her Letter . . . .541

CHAPTER X

The Duke of Marlborough's Declining Days — Interest in His Grand-
children— Their performance of All for Love — A Day with the
Prince and Princess of Wales — The Duchess of Montagu's Descrip-
tion of the Parisians — His Grace of Marlborough makes His Last
Will and Testament — Precautions to prove His Sanity — Lord
Sackville's Description of Him — His Illness — The Duchess rushes
after Dr. Mead— Death of the Great Duke— The Story of the Shorn
Locks — Lying in State — Magnificent Funeral — Proposals of Marriage
to His Widow — Lady Isabella Montagu weds the Duke of Man-
chester— Her Grace's Reply to Her Grandmother — The Duchess of
Marlborough's Scheme to marry Lady Diana Spencer to Frederick
Prince of Wales — Discovery by Walpole — Lady Diana marries Lord
John Russell — Disputes between Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough
and Her Mother — The Young Duchess patronises Musicians and
Poets — Her Friendship with Congreve — The Playwright's Vanity —
Voltaire visits Him — Goes to Bath with the Duchess — His Death
and Will— Her Eccentric Conduct— The Dowager's Comment . 58]

Contents of iflol. n vn

CHAPTER XI

PAGE

The Last Years of the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough— Her Aversion
to Sir Robert Walpole— Letter from the Bishop of Chichester — Her
Grace replies — Quarrels with Her Daughters — Death of Henrietta
Duchess of Marlborough — The New Duke— The Dowager's Wrath
at His Marriage— Makes a Puppet Show to illustrate Her Grievance
— The Singular Punishment of Lady Bateman — Her Grace's
Favourite Grandson, Jack Spencer — His Prodigality — Fanny
Murray's Contempt for Money — The Dowager pleads Her Case in
the Court of Chancery — Refuses to part with the Diamond-hilted
Sword — Eccentricities of the Duchess of Buckingham — Proud of
Her Royal Descent — Intrigues to place James Stuart on the Throne
— Her Answer to the Duchess of Marlborough — The Duchess of
Shrewsbury diverts the Town — The Dowager Duchess on the
Immortality of the Soul — Lively Letters to Lord Marchmont —
Engaged in writing an Account of Her Conduct— Her Secretary,
Nathaniel Hook — Negotiations with Pope to suppress Her
"Character" — Reasons for writing Her Defence . . . . 609

CHAPTER XII

Storm produced by the Dowager Duchess's Book — She does not care
what Fools or Mad People say — Employs Henry Fielding to help
Her in writing a Vindication— The Duchess of Buckingham draws
near Her Death — The Ruling Passion strong in Death — She makes
Preparations for a Pompous Funeral — Wishes to be laid beside
King James — Strange Vicissitudes attending His Majesty's Remains
— Candles burn round Them for over a Century — Charles Duke of
Marlborough and His Grandmother — He knows not Right or Wrong
— The Dowager Duchess erects a Statue to Queen Anne— Dwells
on Former Days — Purchases a Chamber Organ Which beguiles Her
Loneliness — Anxious to have a Biography of Her Husband written
— Collects Papers and Letters for the Purpose — Employs Two
Literary Men Whom She instructs — Her Desire is never gratified —
Her Death at Marlborough House— The Terms of Her Will— Jack
Spencer becomes Her Heir 639

ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOL. II

QUEEN ANNE Frontispiece

JOHN CHURCHILL, FIRST DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH . . page 359

SARAH DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH ,,408

THE DUCHESS OF SOMERSET ,, 489

ELIZABETH CHURCHILL, COUNTESS OF BRIDGEWATER . . ,,546

ANNE CHURCHILL, COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND ... „ 555

MARY CHURCHILL, DUCHESS OF MONTAGU .... ,,585

HENRIETTA CHURCHILL, SECOND DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH „ 606

CHAPTER I

London Town in Ancient Times — Class Distinctions —
The Suburb of Kensington — Picturesque Thorough-
fares and their Frequenters — Quaint Signs — Street
Criers and Their Wares — Hackney Coaches and
Their Swearing Drivers — Sedan Chairs and Their
Bearers — A Gang of Devils — The Mohawks and
Their Practices — Lady Wentworth is frighted —
A New Invention enlightens the Street — St. James's
Coffee House and Its Customers — The Great Whig
Lords— White's Coffee House and Those Who
flocked there— With the Parsons in St. Paul's
Churchyard — Description of the Young Man's
Coffee House — A Favourite Resort of the Beau —
Good Company at Button's — Addison, Dick Steele,
Dr. Garth, Nicholas Rowe, William Congreve, and
Dean Swift — Gambling at Tom's Coffee House —
A Young Man from the University — Playing for
a Wife— With the Players at the Bedford—
Betterton, Dogget, Booth, and Colley Gibber — My
Lord Marlborough's Favourite — State of the Stage
— Queen Anne's Proclamation regarding the Play-
houses— The First Censor — Descriptions of the
Theatres — Her Majesty's Love of Horse-racing.

VOL. II.

CHAPTER I

•f

COMPARED with its monstrous overgrowth in
the present day, London was in the reign of
Queen Anne a comparatively small and compact city.
And this being an age before class distinctions became
lost in a democratic mass, each section of society was
marked by its dress and manner, and lived in its own
quarter of the town. In this way the staid and busy
tradesman, great merchants, and bankers, dwelt with
their families above their shops or offices east of Temple
Bar ; barristers, solicitors, and law students were to be
found in and around the Temple ; the environs of
Drury Lane were given over to the poor players and
pamphleteers, the ready-witted writers of lampoons
and satires, to singers and musicians, to those who
penned comedies and tragedies, or indited fulsome
praises to some proud patron.

In the vicinity of the Royal Palaces of Whitehall and
St. James's lived the courtiers whose great mansions
rose in the Strand or Piccadilly ; whilst persons of lesser
distinction resided in Leicester Square, Covent Garden,
or Bloomsbury, from whose new-built Queen's Square,

329

33° TOe Queen's Gomrafce

refreshing views might be had of the breezy hills of
Highgate and Hampstead. The now dingy and depress-
ing neighbourhoods of Theobald's Road, King's Cross,
and Clerkenwell, were then wide-spreading fields with
country lanes, and tree-sheltered farmhouses ; Edgware
and Hampstead Roads numbered but a few houses that
lay far apart ; footpads had their wicked haunts in the
unkempt grass-grown spaces behind the site on which
the British Museum now stands ; and for many years
of Anne's reign, no other building stood between
Devonshire House and the fields known as Hyde Park,
which were protected by hedges and ditches and " a
sorry kind of balustrade or rather with poles placed
upon stakes, but three feet from the ground."

Kensington was considered at this time a suburb,
and was not easy of access in wet weather from
London, on account of the state of its roads, in whose
deep ruts horses stumbled and . coach wheels stuck, to
the great danger of those who rode or drove. It had,
however, been brought into fashion by King William,
who considered its air beneficial to his chronic asthma,
and who on his first coming to England had rented
Holland House, before he bought from the Earl of
Nottingham the residence afterwards known as
Kensington Palace.

Though the London streets were dark and narrow,
they could boast of a picturesqueness which the modern
spirit with its desire for space and its aim at conven-
tionality has destroyed. With high-pitched roofs,
projecting stories, canopied doorways, and oak-beamed

(Quaint St^nboarbs 331

fronts, the houses, weather beaten to harmonious hues,
stood irregularly, jutting here and receding there all
down the twisting thoroughfares. And at a time when
glass had not come into common use, the shop fronts
freely exposed their wares. Above them, hanging from
carved and iron branches, swinging in wild weather and
plentifully dripping in wet, were the signboards that
often met in the centre of the street ; each exhibiting
in all the bravery of bright paint and lavish gilding, the
figure of some monstrous beast or fabled bird, a human
head, some quaint design or strange conceit by which
the shop it hung above was known to its customers
and others.

And up and down these streets all day the criers
went calling out or chanting their wares, rivalling each
other in their noises, their accents proving their country
origin in many cases. The woman with the white
handkerchief loosely knitted over her russet gown,
wide-stretching basket on her head, cried out ripe
cherries and fair strawberries, sixpence a pound ; she,
with the muslin cap fitting close to her brown face and
tied under her full chin, sold bed-mats or door-mats,
or good table baskets made by her own strong hands ;
the youth, out at elbows and grown a size too large for
his small clothes, sold pamphlets and news-sheets,
amongst them being the 'Daily Courant, the first daily
paper published in England, which came into life the
same week that Anne came to the throne ; the little
man in the russet coat with blue worsted stockings,
was ready to mend brass or iron pots, or give good

332 zrfoe (Slueen's Comrafce

money for old metal ; the thin dark person lean as a
scholar, offered for sale Moore's or Partridge's
almanacks, wax wafers, fine writing ink, long thread
laces, and pretty pins for pretty maids. Others told of
the virtues of New River water ; of lily-white vinegar
threepence per quart ; of fat capons ; of oysters twelve-
pence the peck ; of merry new songs or the full and
true account of the latest execution ; of delicate cucumbers
to pickle or asparagus ready for table ; all of which they
were eager to dispose of, whilst their combined cries
deafened the ear, like a chime of human bells.

Their clamours were often temporarily silenced as
they were driven from the centre of the streets by the
hackney coaches with their many-caped, whip-cracking,
swearing drivers, by the grumbling chairmen labouring
under the weight of their burdens at the rate of a
shilling a mile, or by the carriages or coaches of men
of quality, cumbrous vehicles painted and gilded, hung
on leather straps, lined with blue or crimson velvet, and
drawn by four or six horses. Beside these the common
or hackney coaches made a poor appearance, with their
worn out jades and their window-frames supplied with
white canvas to keep out dust, or to shade from the
sun, or with tin in which holes were pierced to admit
air. The most common and comfortable mode of
conveyance was the sedan chairs, though their carriers,
a drunken brawling lot, were the terror of the town,
ever ready with sulphurous language and clenched
fists to dispute for the carrying of a fare, whom they
not infrequently tumbled into the mud as they took

ZTbe /Ifcofoawfes 333

their unsober ways through the ill-paved and badly lit
streets at night.

Their obscurity gave welcome opportunities to that
large but unpopular class who found robbery a
prosperous though perilous profession ; and also to
the gang of young dare devils who, in 1712, swept like
a plague through the town, drawing their swords or
flourishing their tasselled canes to maim and bruise
their helpless victims, out of sheer depravity, which
they mistook for the exuberance of youth. These
formidable gallants were known as the Mohawks, a
name, says the Spectator, which they took " from a
sort of cannibals in India, who subsist on plundering
and devouring all the nations about them."

Against a body so formidable in numbers, so swift
in their methods, the town watch — an easy-going,
decrepit lot — made little resistance ; an early interference
with the nightly amusements of the Mohawks resulting
in certain disfiguring marks being left on the guardians
of the peace. The way of these young bloods, explains
a quaint publication, " is to meet people in the streets
and stop them, and begin to banter them, and if they
make any answer, they lay on them with sticks, and
toss them from one to another in a very rude manner.
They attacked the watch in Devereux Court and
Essex Street and made them scower ; they also slit two
persons' noses, and cut a woman in the arm with a
penknife that she is lam'd. They likewise rowled a
woman in a tub down Snow Hill, that was going to
market, set other women on their heads," etc,

334 Ube (Queen's Comrafce

Swift amongst others considered the Mohawks a
political party, whose design it was to assassinate the
lord treasurer and punish the Tories. "It is not safe
being in the streets at night for them/' writes the
Dean to Stella. " The Bishop of Salisbury's son is said
to be of the gang. They are all Whigs ; and a great
lady sent to me, to speak to her father and to lord
treasurer to have a care of them, and to be careful
likewise of myself; for she heard they had malicious
intentions against the ministers and their friends." On
this the Dean took care not to walk late at night and
went to the expense of hiring a chair ; but he was
advised by the lord treasurer not to be carried through
the streets, " because the Mohocks insult chairs more
than they do those on foot." He adds : " They think
there is some mischeavous design in those villains. . . .
Lord Winchelsea told me to-day at Court, that two of
the Mohocks caught a maid of old Lady Winchelsea's
at the door of their house in the Park, with a candle,
and had just lighted out somebody. They cut all her
face and beat her without any provocation."

That this was not exaggeration is proved by many
other correspondents, among them Lady Wentworth,
who, writing to her son Lord Raby, says : c< I am very
much frighted with a gang of Devils that call them-
selves Mohocks ; they put an old woman into a
hogshead and rooled her down a hill ; they cut of
some nosis, others hands, and several barbarss tricks
without any provocation. They are said to be young
gentlemen, they never take any money from any ;

tbe Suburbs 335

instead of setting fifty pounds upon the head of a
highwayman, sure they would doe much better to sett
a hundred upon their heads. "

At certain times in each month when every moon
was expected to do her duty, no efforts were made to
light the thoroughfares : at other periods householders
were obliged to hang out lanterns above their door-
ways. Oil lamps were also suspended from ropes
crossing the streets, giving them a melancholy and
uncertain gloom. In the fourth year of her reign
Queen Anne was graciously pleased to grant letters
patent for " enlightening the suburbs of London and
city of Westminster and all other cities and places in
England by new invented lights or lamps called conic
lamps" ; whilst later on, in 1709, " a new sort of light
called the Globe light " was invented, which " is
observed to enlighten the street with a true steady
light in no way offensive to the eye."

The first of these was seen at St. James's coffee
house near St. James's palace, which Dean Swift used
to frequent, and when the Irish post was due, give
eager glances at the glass frame behind the bar, where
letters were kept, to see if one waited him from the
woman who loved him. In Queen Anne's reign there
were over three thousand of these " places of con-
venience," or coffee houses, the forerunners of clubs,
in London. By paying a penny, or twopence, or
sixpence, according to their rank in the social scale,
a man was free to enter one of these public resorts ;
where he could sit as long as he pleased in the

336 ftbe (Queen's Comrabe

enjoyment of a good fire or the company of his friends,
read the news sheets, listen to the latest intelligence, the
most diverting scandal, smoke, drink a glass of liquor,
a dish of tea, or a cup of coffee.

At such places letters might be written and called
for, business appointments made, and ardent youth
might exchange simpers and bandy words with the maid
selected for her charms who stood at the bar. Though
all who paid the nominal fee might enter their hospitable
doors, each coffee house had its own set of frequenters.
At the Cocoa Tree, where besides tea and coffee,
chocolate could be had at twelvepence the quart or
twopence the dish, the great Whig nobles congregated.
Here was Lord Chancellor Somers, a bland and
courteous peer, whom William had mightily favoured
and who was detested by Anne. And with him most
frequently came Lord Halifax, a politician of some
merit, a versifier with a knack of making pretty ballads,
the patron of poets who fed him on dedications, a lover
of Italian music then lately introduced to the town, a
gallant who with a frightful figure " followed several
beauties who laughed at him."

Here also came my Lord Sunderland, husband of
Lady Anne Churchill, who having succeeded to his
father's title and estates, signalised that event by
throwing out of the library the works of the Fathers
of the Church, which he termed " the dregs of
antiquity," and supplying their place with the writings
of Machiavelli. As great a Whig as any, the Duke
of Devonshire was likewise a constant visitor, a man

Ube Greatest IRafee in En0lan& 337

admired by many, for his presence was handsome,
his dress of the richest, and his courage was such that,
when insulted before royalty by Colonel Culpepper,
he had boldly dragged that rash individual from the
presence chamber and wrathfully caned him on the
head, for which he was fined five thousand pounds.
And amongst them, liveliest of all, was King William's
close friend, Lord Wharton, who had the reputation
of being the greatest rake in England, a man with a
fine eye for horse flesh and a good head for a bottle,
who Swift says, " was wholly occupied by vice and
politics, so that baudy, profaness, and business, filled up
his whole conversation." Another ardent Whig who
delighted to entertain his companions of the coffee
house with stories of the late King, was the Earl of
Ranelagh, who as he had ruined himself by his passion
for building and his extravagances in gardening, had
been appointed by William as superintendent of the
royal edifices and pleasure grounds, and allowed to
try his desecrating hand on Hampton Court Palace.

White's coffee house, not far removed from the
Cocoa Tree, was frequented by the great Tory lords,
such as the Queen's uncle, the Earl of Rochester ;
Lord Jersey, now a sturdy Jacobite ; Lord Nottingham,
who was Secretary of State under Anne, as he had
been under William ; Sir Edward Seymour, erect and
stately, haughty and sour, who was Comptroller of
Her Majesty's household ; the Duke of Shrewsbury,
her Lord Chamberlain, who from the suavity of his
manners and graciousness of his bearing, was known

338 ftbe CSiueen's Comrade

as the King of Hearts ; and the Duke of Buckingham,
who, when Earl of Mulgrave, had made love to the
Princess Anne when he was banished from the Court,
but who eventually consoled himself by marrying
her step-sister, Catherine Darnley, a natural daughter
of James II. In memory of old times, as gossips
said, Anne on coming to the Throne made him Lord
of the Privy Seal, and raised him to a dukedom.

Child's coffee house in St. Paul's Churchyard was
the resort of the clergy, who at this time held a
much lower grade in social life than now ; and
who — at the time when almost every nobleman kept
his chaplain — were frequently treated with indignities,
and occupied a place in their patron's household
that was but little above the servants. It was usual
at this time for the clergy to appear abroad in
bands, cassock, gown, and wig ; and like the followers
of less peaceable professions, their ranks were divided
into factions, under the terms that in the previous
reign had come into vogue, of high church and low
church ; the former siding with the Tories and opposing
dissent, whilst the low church party were more tolerant
regarding dogmas, and less liberal concerning the
prerogatives of the Crown. So that the soothing
effects of tea and snuff did not always harmonise the
gatherings at Child's coffee house, especially when
the boisterous Bishop Trelawney was present. His
lordship was one of the many concerning whom the
scandal loving Bishop Burnet said ill things ; for
he accused Trelawney of being drunk at Salisbury

Coffee Ibouses 339

in a certain inn on a given date, which the accused
most forcibly denied. But if Dr. Trelawney, who
was a baronet as well as a bishop, did not indulge
in strong liquors, he certainly and habitually used
strong language, a habit he always set down to the
baronet as an excuse for the bishop, and found little
satisfaction in the reminder and reproof of a God-
fearing friend, that if the baronet would be damned,
the same fate must befall the bishop.

Jonathan's coffee house in Exchange Alley was the
favourite resort of stockjobbers, whilst Baker's close
by was patronised by merchants. The Grecian, in
Devereux Court, Temple, was thronged by lawyers
and learned men, amongst whom was Sir Isaac Newton,
and Dr. Douglas, who had the high honour of dissecting
a dolphin before the Royal Society. But the Young
Man's coffee house at Charing Cross, was perhaps
the most fashionable of the day ; for here " their
tables were so very neat and shin'd with rubbing like
the upper leathers of an alderman's shoes," and the
floor as clean swept as if the owner "would impose
the forfeiture of so much mop money upon any
person that should spit out of the chimney corner."

This house was the favourite resort of the beau,
who admired himself greatly, and gave himself
extravagant airs. Wearing a full-bottomed periwig
on which a cocked hat was set sideways, a neckcloth
with fringed ends negligently tied, a red waistcoat
woven with gold and open at the top to show a fine
holland shirt, a camlet coat much embroidered, with

340 abe <aueen's Comra&e

its skirts extended by wire or whalebone, silk stocking
and buckled shoes with high red heels, he considered
himself dressed to perfection. In winter he added
a muff suspended round his neck by a ribbon, in
summer he carried an amber-headed cane, whilst at
all seasons a silver-hiked sword hung by his side.

Entering the coffee-house with a dainty step, he
made a display of his Italian snuff-box whose lid
contained a mirror for the satisfaction of his eyes,
ordered wine which he sent back half a dozen times
to show his excellent judgment, until the worst was
brought him which he declared the best, smiled until
his white teeth were admired by all, ignored all
commoners if a noble lord were present, shook billet
doux from his pocket as he drew out his scented
handkerchief, consulted his gold watch with a frequency
that spoke ill for his memory, quoted jests from the
last new play which he spoiled by repeating, and
boasted of his acquaintance with a noble duke who
revealed to him the secrets of the Court, which upon
his honour he dared not impart even to his best
friends, because His Grace had bound him to secrecy.

Amongst all the fops that frequented this house,
none wore braver apparel, none was more gallant
than Robert Fielding generally known as handsome
Fielding. A man of goodly shape and fascinating
personality, he was the hero of a hundred intrigues
before his career as a bachelor ended by his
marrying the notorious Duchess of Cleveland, who
for many years had swayed and plagued the Merry

Sosepb Hfcbteon 341

Monarch's life. This marriage on Beau Fielding's
part was mercenary ; for the Duchess was wealthy if
ancient, and imprudent. Nor was she so generous
as he expected, for seven months after they became
man and wife, he broke open her desk and took
four hundred pounds from it, and when she would
have prevented him he beat her sadly. On that she
put her head out of the window and cried " Murder,"
when a great and jeering crowd collected, at which
the gallant Beau Fielding fired a blunderbus. The
result was his wife had him committed to Newgate and
bound him over to keep the peace.

It was at Button's coffee-house, in Russell Street,
Co vent Garden, that the wits and pamphleteers, the
poets and satirists chiefly gathered. Here, amongst
others, came the stately Joseph Addison, who having
made the grand tour, returned to England about
the time Anne came to the throne. Generally silent
in- company, he made an excellent listener, wrote his
polished lines with toil, and drank good wine with
relish, being grave and taciturn over the first bottle,
gay and frolicsome with the second, and sick at the
third, as Voltaire says. Made independent by his
wife, widow of Edward Rich, Earl of Warwick, and
by the Whigs who employed him, he could afford
to write in elegant luxury for the Guardian, whose
publication was devised at this house, and on whose
front door was fixed a letter-box in the shape of a
lion's head, designed by Hogarth, into which writers
were invited to drop their contributions.

342 t£be (Queen's Comtabe

It was at this coffee-house that Addison so often
met his friend Richard Steele, who though his parents
were English, had been born in Ireland, a fact that
seemed to account for his extravagant habits, fluent
tongue, and that ready wit that ran like a golden
thread through the core of his comedies. A Whig
writer, like Addison, he was also a contributor to the
Guardian. Prosperity smiled on him, patrons
rewarded him, matrimony brought him riches, but his
love of good living and gay company, his desire for
display and general thriftlessness, often forced him
into difficulties ; as may readily be imagined of a man,
who after giving a guest an excellent dinner, spent
the last half-guinea left to his family in sending out
for a dessert which was unneeded.

As a further illustration of his character the story
is told that once, when he had assembled a goodly
company round his board, one of them asked why
he kept so many liveried servants, on which he
answered it was because he could not afford to
dismiss them. " Why not ? " said the questioner.
" If you must know," answered Steele in great good
humour, " they are bailiffs who have come here rather
inopportunely, I own ; but that I might not lose the
pleasure of your company or hurt your feelings, I put
them into livery as you see." The guests were so
pleased by this frank explanation that, rather than
have so excellent a host hampered by bailiffs, they
went bail there and then and the fellows were
dismissed.

Br, Oartfo anb f>is patients 343

It was here also that Dr. Garth, physician and
versifier, when lingering late over his wine one night,
was asked by Steele if his patients would not need
him, when the doctor had the honesty to reply that
it did not matter in the least whether he saw them
that night or next day ; for nine had such bad
constitutions that no physician could cure them, whilst
the remainder had such good ones that all the doctors
in the world could not kill them.

Here likewise came the poet, John Phillips, celebrated
for his " pomp of diction " ; and Nicholas Rowe, a
gentleman out of Devonshire, well proportioned in
his person, with elegant manners more sauve than
sincere, who living in ease and comfort, wrote at his
leisure such plays as Jane Shore, 'Tamerlane, and The
Fair Penitent, and edited the first commodious edition
of Shakespeare's plays, to which he prefixed a life of
the poet which, to damn it with faint praise, was " more
to be commended for the intention than the execution."

A frequenter of this coffee-house far more brilliant
as a playwright and more winsome as a man, was
William Congreve, who, graceful in his person, refined
in his manner, witty and charming, had gained a
reputation for good comradeship before he was out
of his teens, and later by his brilliant comedies won
the universal favour of the town. Adventurous and
original, it was his delight to disguise himself beyond
recognition, and live with low characters at Gravesend
or Houndsditch, where he diverted himself by their
ways, studied and reproduced them in his plays,

VOL. II. 2

344 Ube (SJueetVs Comrafce

and told a hundred good stones of them to his
companions.

Amongst these was Dean Swift, black browed
and bitter tongued, hungering for church promotion,
a writer of unapproachable satire, a follower of the
Tories, and a man of genius. A frequenter of the
Court he had been taught by William how to cut
asparagus in the Dutch fashion and to eat it stalks
and all ; and was now waiting until it should please
Her Majesty to appoint him to a bishopric, an ambition
never destined to be fulfilled.

At Tom's coffee house, situated in the same street,
high play and grim tragedy were not unknown ; the
one not unfrequently following the other, in these
days when gambling was indulged in by all, from
the Queen who was described as a " card-playing
automaton/' to the shoe-blacks stationed at Whitehall
and St. James's Palaces, who were therefore known
as the black-guards. The cards used were generally
illustrated by scenes of memorable events, such as
the flight of King James, the coming of the Prince
of Orange, the burning of " mass houses," the coronation
of Queen Anne. Sharpers, marked cards, and false
dice were as plentiful as dupes ; great sums were
lost and won by the nobility, and the lower classes
carried away by excitement, occasionally risked all they
had ; the invariable custom being to pay as soon as
possible all debts of honour. When acting on these
conditions, a young man from the university had
parted with his waistcoat, coat, and shirt, and was

Betterton 345

found at Tom's shivering in a corner, he was hailed
by his friends with laughter, for, said they to him :
" Who ever thought to see thee in a state of innocency ? "
Something which he probably did not value so much
as a suit of clothes, was also lost at cards by a person
in Westminster, who in the first year of Queen Anne's
reign, was indited for " playing away his wife to
another man, which was done with her own consent/'

At the Bedford coffee-house in Covent Garden, most
of the players might be found, telling many strange
tales of the dire hardships common to their wandering
lives, before merit brought them appointments to the
patent houses ; or extolling their own talents as they
boasted of victories won over sullen audiences, and
of praises given by their patrons. Here, seated in an
arm-chair drawn close by the fire in winter, and always
surrounded by a group of attentive listeners, was a
man with a broad face and small eyes, a corpulent
body, thick legs, and large feet, who was none other
than Thomas Betterton, the greatest actor in the days
of Charles II., who had sent him to Paris to see the
French theatres, and had appointed his wife a teacher
of elocution to Mary and Anne. The latter bore
kindly remembrances of him and had seen him perform
since she came to the throne, for at the age of seventy-
five he had appeared on the boards of the Queen's
theatre in the Haymarket, just a few months before
they carried him to his grave in Westminster Abbey,
on May 2nd, 1710.

Dogget, a lively little Irishman, who was so famous

346 zrbe (Queen's Comtabe

a player that he made about a thousand a year, and yet
did not disdain to have a booth at Bartholomew fair,
came to the Bedford " dressed neat and something fine,
in a plain cloth coat and brocaded waistcoat," when he
praised the Whigs and dammed the Tories as he was
much interested in politics. And so highly was he
estimated, that the managers of Her Majesty's theatre
gave him " thirty pounds to act six times, which he
did and filled the house each time/' as Sir John
Vanbrugh writes ; this being, it may be added, the
first instance of starring mentioned in the history of
the English stage.

A favourite actor of my Lord Marlborough was
young Estcourt, who once had been apprenticed to an
apothecary ; for which dull trade he had a loathing,
whilst he loved the stage, for whose service nature
had fitted him, his manner being easy and free whilst
"he had the honour in comedy alway to loetificate
his audience, especially the quality. "

One of the quality who had become a player was
Booth, who was closely related to an earl and was
married to the daughter of a baronet. At the early
age of seventeen he had run away from home and
sought his fortune on the stage, at first in Dublin
afterwards in London where, because of his family and
his talents, he gained quick recognition from the town.
Even more aristocratic in appearance than he, was
Colley Gibber, the son of a sculptor, who would have
gone to the university if he had not joined William's
forces on their landing.

Colics Gibber 347

As there was no fighting to be done, he had left the
army and joined the stage, where above all others
on the boards, he excelled in his representations of
simpering beaux and swaggering fops. The air with
which he helped himself to snuff, his profound bow
to my Lady Betty, his nice adjustment of a clouded
cane, were pronounced inimitable ; whilst presently he
added vastly to his reputation by writing witty
comedies — clear mirrors of the times — in which he
played parts that suited his perfections.

It was at the humble suggestion of Colley Gibber,
that Her Majesty issued a proclamation against one of
the worst nuisances of the playhouse. It was not only
that the poor mummer had to contend for a hearing
against the noisy footmen in the upper gallery, to which
they were admitted free, and where they waited to
attend their mistress's chair or call their master's coach ;
against the orange wenches, who not only called their
wares and rattled their pence, but conveyed love notes
across the house from beau to belle during the perform-
ance ; or against the audible remarks of the powdered,
scented, and brocaded youth, lolling in the side boxes
and ogling the fair sex ; but he had also to suffer
interruption from such of them as chose to crowd on
the stage during the play, to loll against the side
entrances, to call to each other, to comment audibly on
the acting, or to spoil a scene by crossing the boards at
the most critical moment.

To remedy this and much else, Anne issued a
proclamation on January I7th, 1704, stating she

348 Ube (Slueen's Comrabe

had given orders to the Master of the Revels, who
then held the same position towards the stage as
the Lord Chamberlain does now — and also to both
companies of comedians acting in Drury Lane and
Lincoln's Inn Fields, to take special care that nothing
should be performed in either of the theatres con-
trary to religion or good manners, upon pain of her
high displeasure and of being silenced from further
acting. And being further desirous to reform all other
indecencies and abuses of the stage, which had
occasioned great disorders and justly given offence,
she commanded that no person of what quality soever
should go behind the scenes or come upon the stage,
either before or during the acting of any play ; that
no woman be allowed to wear a mask in either of
the theatres, and finally that no person should enter
the house without paying the established price for his
place.

This order met with such popularity that three days
after its issue, the House of Lords offered its thanks
to Her Majesty for " restraining the playhouses from
immorality."

Unfortunately her orders were not obeyed, for two
months later, in answer to complaints that had been
made to her of many indecent, profane, and immoral
expressions that are usually spoken by players and
mountebanks contrary to religion and good manners,
she once more commanded her Master of the Revels
to take special care to correct such abuses. That this
might be made more easy to him, the Queen ordered

plays to be Itcensefc 349

that all stage players, mountebanks, and all other
persons mounting stages, should bring their several
plays, drolls, farces, interludes, dialogues, prologues,
and other entertainments fairly written, to the said
Master of the Revels at his office in Somerset House,
to be perused and corrected and allowed under his
hand.

The theatres in these days were small compact
buildings, but dimly lit, save on great occasions such
as the visits of royalty. As there were no footlights,
the stage was indifferently illuminated by candles set
in circular pieces of iron, and suspended by ropes and
pulleys by which they were lowered between the acts
and regularly snuffed. The pit was fitted with benches
covered with green cloth but without backs, and was
filled with members of the professions, who often sent
their footmen to keep their places until the performance
began. An amphitheatre rising under the first gallery,
was occupied by persons of the best quality; tradesmen
with their wives and daughters watched the play from
the gallery ; above their heads were the lacqueys ; the
side boxes were filled by beaux who wished to display
their splendour, and ladies of the highest fashion. The
play began at five o'clock in the afternoon during
winter, and its attractions were always enhanced by
entertainments or interludes of dancing and singing,
and occasionally by the performances of dogs, acrobats,
and conjurers : these being found as attractive as the
acting of the famed Elizabeth Barry or the graces of
Nance Oldfield.

35° tTbe (Queen's Comrabe

The fact that gout made movement painful to the
Queen, was probably the reason why she so seldom
visited the theatre ; but that she enjoyed a good play
was evident, for the actors of both houses were
occasionally commanded to appear before her at the
Court of St. James, when the tragedies or comedies
of Shakespeare or Dry den were performed.

However, she far preferred sport to art, and in her
younger days had been devoted to hunting. When
increasing corpulency prevented her riding to hounds,
she a gave herself the divertisement of hunting " in an
open calash, in which she would sometimes ride above
forty miles. Her Majesty's interest in horse flesh was
so great that she had a residence at Newmarket, which
she frequently visited, and where she kept racers under
the superintendence of Tregonwell Frampton, known
as the father of the turf, the oldest and cunningest
jockey in England, who made as light of throwing
away five hundred or a thousand pounds at a time,
as another man would his pocket money ; and was
as calm, cheerful, and unconcerned when he lost as
when he won. Both the Queen and Prince George
continually gave prizes of gold plate value a hundred
guineas to be run for ; but whether her own horses
ever won one of these is uncertain, though it is true
she gained a prize at the York races worth fourteen
pounds.

CHAPTER II

The Duke of Maryborough's Ardent Letters to His Wife
— The Victory of Blenheim — Rejoicings in London
— Thanksgiving in St. Paul's — Procession of the
Trophies of War — Substantial Rewards to per-
petuate the Memory of Great Services — The Ancient
and Royal Manor of Woodstock — Its Historic
Associations — The building of Blenheim Palace —
A Magnificent Miniature — The Prince of Wales and
his Sister Anne — Proposals to invite the Electress
Sophia to England — The Queen's Displeasure —
Growing Estrangement between Her Majesty and
Her Favourite — Complaints of a Cold Letter — The
Duchess writes plainly — Lord Sunderland is made
Secretary of State — The Victory of Ramillies — Fresh
Rejoicings followed by New Favours to the Duke
— The Duchess coldly thanks her Sovereign —
Erection of Marlborough House — The Oak King
Charles planted — The Queen humbly explains.

CHAPTER II

]V /T EANWHILE the Duke of Marlborough was
1.VJL commanding the allied armies abroad in the
midst of almost insurmountable difficulties, that would
have driven an ordinary man to despair. For he was
not only obliged to plan great campaigns, fight battles,
and endure weary marches, but to satisfy the Dutch
deputies, to pacify mercenary and sluggish German
princes and British ministers, to conciliate the jealousies
of foreigners as well as of his own followers, to answer
dispatches which poured in on him from every court
in Europe, and to suffer fatigue and anxiety, fever and
ague that brought insufferable headaches and dimness
of sight in their train.

Anxious to share his troubles and care for his health,
his wife had more than once asked permission to join
him ; but this he would not hear of, at a time when
he could not ensure her comfort or safety. However,
though he might spend fourteen hours in the saddle
or be racked by headache, he found time to write to
her whom he usually terms " My dear soul." In one
of his letters written in May, 1 704, he says that one

353

354 ftbe (SiueetVs Comra&e

of hers (which seems to have been unusually affec-
tionate), had almost gone astray, and adds, " I would
not for anything in my power it had been lost ; for it
is so very kind that I would in return lose a thousand
lives if I had them, to make you happy." In com-
pliance with her wishes he had taken from his strong
box the last note she wrote him and burnt it, but
he asks permission to keep this, that he may have the
pleasure of reading it often, and that it may be found
amongst his belongings when he is dead ; for, he con-
tinues, " I do this minute love you better than I ever
did in my life before. This letter of yours has made
me so happy, that I do from my soul wish we could
retire and not be blamed. What you propose as to
coming over, I should be extremely pleased with ; for
your letter has so transported me, that I think you
would be happier in being here than where you are,
although I should not be able to see you often. But
you will see it would be impossible for you to follow
me ; but love me as you do now, and no hurt can
follow me. You have by this kindness preserved my
quiet and I believe my life ; for till I had this letter,
I had been very indifferent of what should become of
myself."

All his correspondence express the same tender
affection, and generally speak of his hopes of ending
his days quietly with her, whilst he continually refers
to the violent headaches that distract him.

It has been stated that since the days of the Crusades,
Europe had never been so generally excited, so

Victors of JSlenbeim 355

expanded in force or movement, as now when the efforts
of two allied forces were combined to crush the power
of France. The feelings of the English nation may
therefore be imagined on receiving news of the victory
of Blenheim, which went far towards that end ; and
the sentiments of France may be gauged when it is
stated that a proclamation was published in that country
making it unlawful to speak of the battle.

On the memorable day when it was fought, August
1 3th, 1704, the Duke of Marlborough had spent
seventeen hours in the saddle; but no sooner was
victory assured him, than tearing a slip of paper
from his pocket book, he wrote a pencilled note to
the duchess telling her " I have not time to say more,
but to beg you will give my duty to the Queen, and
let her know her army has had a glorious victory.
M. Tallard and two other generals are in my coach,
and J am following the rest. The bearer, my aide-
camp, Colonel Parke, will give her an account of
what has passed. I shall do it in a day or two by
another more at large." This note on the back of
which is a bill of tavern expenses, is preserved in the
archives of Blenheim Palace.

When Colonel Parke had delivered this note to the
duchess, he was ushered into the presence of the
Queen, then living at Windsor, who was overcome
with joy at the news, and anxious to present its bearer
with the usual reward for such intelligence, of five
hundred pounds ; but instead of this the gallant soldier,
who was also a courtier, begged that Her Majesty

356 tlbe (Queen's Comrabe

would give him her portrait, which she did with great
good will.

On the day following that on which the victory was
gained, the duke found time to write again to the
duchess. " Before the battle was quite done yester-
day," he says, " I writ to my dearest soul to let her
know that I was well and that God had blessed Her
Majesty's arms with as great a victory as has ever been
known. For prisoners I have the Marshal de Tallard,
and the greatest part of his general officers, above eight
thousand men and near fifteen hundred officers. . . .
As all these prisoners are taken by the troops I com-
mand, it is in my power to send as many of them to
England as Her Majesty shall think fit for her honour
and service. My own opinion in this matter is, that
the Marshal de Tallard and the general officers should
be sent or brought to Her Majesty when I come to
England ; but should all the officers be brought, it
would be a very great expense and I think the honour
is in having the marshal and such other officers as Her
Majesty pleases. But I shall do in this as in all things
that which shall be most agreeable to her. I am so
very much out of order with having been seventeen
hours on horseback yesterday and not having been able
to sleep above three hours last night, that I can write to
none of my friends. However I am so pleased with
this action, that I can't end my letter without being so
vain as to tell my dearest soul, that within the memory
of man there has been no victory so great as this ; and
as I am sure you love me entirely well, you will be

ZTbanfesaix>in0 at St. Paul's 357

infinitely pleased with what has been done, upon my
account as well as the great benefit the public will have.'*

Four days later in another letter he tells his u dearest
life " that if he could have such another victory " I
should then hope we might have such a peace as that
I might enjoy the remaining part of my life with you."

Bonfires, the ringing of Church bells, the drinking of
much good wine and loyal toasts in taverns, debates in
coffee houses, the writing of ponderous odes, the
rejoicing of eager crowds in the thoroughfares, testified
to the general joy : whilst Her Majesty decided to
celebrate the victory by going in pomp and state to St.
Paul's, there to make public thanksgiving.

Accordingly on the morning of September the yth,
1704, the sky being clear, the air temperate, and the
sun bright, the town was early astir and eager to see
the royal procession which it was promised would be of
extraordinary splendour. By eight of the clock, all
the Knights of the most noble Order of the Garter,
met in the Council Chamber of St. James's Palace,
wearing their velvet robes and jewelled collars, and
having been duly marshalled, betook themselves to their
great coaches emblazoned with arms, each drawn by six
horses, and started for the cathedral, it being then two
hours from midday.

After them came the Knight Marshal with his
gallant men on horseback ; followed by the equerries
and gentlemen ushers to Prince George ; the women of
the bedchamber to Her Majesty; the maids of honour;
his Royal Highness's lords of the bedchamber ; and

358 Ube Queen's Comrafce

Her Majesty's ladies of the bedchamber ; all in
the royal coaches drawn by six horses. After these
followed the proud Duke of Somerset as Master of
the Horse, with the Duke of Ormond as Captain of
the Guards in waiting ; a detachment of the horse-
grenadiers, Her Majesty's footmen, the yeomen of the
guard, and then drawn by eight horses came the Queen's
State Coach where she sat dressed in great splendour and
wearing many jewels, her consort beside her, the
Duchess of Marlborough, plainly dressed, and Lady
Fretcheville, a lady of the bedchamber in waiting, seated
in front of her, a troop of her horse guards closing this
lengthy procession.

The streets through which it passed were lined by the
militia of Westminster as far as Temple Bar, and from
there to St. Paul's, by the City trained bands. From
the windows and balconies of the houses hung rich
tapestries and bright carpets ; chains of flowers crossed
the thoroughfares, and on scaffolds stood the City
companies in their gowns, each with bands of music
that made great cheer. At Temple Bar the lord
mayor in a crimson gown, and the sheriffs in their
scarlet gowns, all brave men on horseback, awaited
Her Majesty, on whose approach the lord mayor
dismounted, made her a speech, and surrendered her
his sword which she handed him back, when he carried
it right proudly before her to the cathedral.

Having reached there, Her Majesty who was a trifle
lame from gout, was assisted from her coach and received
by her great officers of state, her nobility and privy

JOHN CHURCHILL, FIRST DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

Page 359.]

's Continental IReceptton 359

councillors, and led by her husband and followed by
the Duchess of Marlborough she was conducted to
the choir where she sat on a throne opposite to the
altar, Prince George beside her. Then a sermon
was preached by the dean, prayers were said, and the
Te Deum admirably well sung ; after which the Queen
returned in the same order to St. James's, whilst the
populace cheered lustily, and the great guns at the
Tower and in St. James's Park volleyed and thundered.
The Duke of Marlborough still abroad, was received
everywhere from the Danube to the Rhine with extra-
ordinary enthusiasm, and honoured by princes and
potentates, the Emperor of Austria creating him
Prince of Us and of the Holy Roman Empire : whilst
he was received in Berlin with almost royal honours.
Writing from that city on November 2Qth, 1 704, Lord
Raby says the duke was regaled in an extraordinary
manner there, the King, his Court, the ministers and
people of all degrees striving to express the great
satisfaction they had in seeing His Grace at Berlin.
" His Majesty besides lodging and entertaining the
Duke and his attendants in the Hotel des Ambassadeurs,
gave His Grace very noble presents, as a hat with
diamond button and loop, and a diamond hatband
valued at between twenty and thirty thousand crowns,
and two fine saddle horses out of his stables with very
rich furniture, besides several other marks of his bounty
and generosity. . . . His Grace has given great satis-
faction here with that affable obliging behaviour which
answers all his other extraordinary qualifications, and

VOL. II. 3

360 zrbe <Siueen'5 Comrade

he is extremely contented with this Court and the
success he has had in his negociations, which will
appear to be much for the advantage of the common

cause."

However gratifying these honours must have been,
they could hardly have compensated for the fatigues
he had suffered during the recent campaign. In
writing to his old friend Lord Godolphin, he says
that nothing but his zeal for Her Majesty's service
could have enabled him to endure the hardships of the
last three months, and that he is sure he looks ten years
older than when he left England. Nor does he say
this in complaint for, he adds " I esteem myself very
happy if I can make any return for Her Majesty's
goodness to me and mine."

Made anxious by his constant reports of ill health and
fearful lest prolonged strain might cause a complete
collapse, the duchess begged him to retire from the
army and live in peace in their home. In reply to a
proposal that so much agreed with his own inclinations
he answered, " What you say of St. Albans is what
from my soul I wish, that there or somewhere else
we might end our days in quietness together ; and if
I consider only myself, I agree with you, I can never
quit the world (retire) in a better time ; but I have
too many obligations to the Queen to take any
resolution, but such as her service must be first
considered. I hope however in a little time all this
business may be so well settled, as I may be very
easily spared, and then I shall retire with great

fl&arlboroucjb arrives in Enslanfc 361

satisfaction, and with you and my children end my
days most happily ; for I would not quit the world,
but be eased of business, in order to enjoy your dear
company."

On his way to the Moselle and when eight leagues
from Treves, he wrote once more, but in a state of
depression, as two sentences will show, and at the same
time prove the small value he at this time set upon
the world's judgment. " This march " he says " and
my own spleen have given me occasion to think
how very unaccountable a creature man is, to be seeking
for honour in so barren a country as this, when he is
very sure that the greater part of mankind, and may
justly fear that even his best friends, would be apt
to think ill of him — should he have ill success. But
I am endeavouring all I can to persuade myself that
my happiness ought to depend upon my knowledge
that I do what I think is for the best."

After various minor successes, the duke returned
to England, to reap some of the rewards of the great
victory. Crossing from Holland in one of the royal
yachts he sailed up the Thames amidst vociferous
cheering, every vessel flying its flag, and landed at
Whitehall steps on December i4th, 1704. Here he
was met by the duchess, their daughters and sons-in-
law, with several friends, and was conducted to St.
James's Palace where the Queen and Prince George
received him with the utmost friendliness. News
of his arrival spread through the town and crowds
gathered in the streets to catch sight of the hero of

362 Ube (Queen's Comrafce

Blenheim ; whilst little else but his achievements was
talked of in the taverns and coffee houses.

Next day he went to the House of Lords where he
was presented with a congratulatory address ; whilst
a committee of the House of Commons waited on
him to express their thanks for his glorious services.
In his answers to both he showed a characteristic
modesty, claiming little merit for himself, but saying
that next to the blessing of God he owed his success
to the extraordinary courage of the officers and soldiers
under his command. A glimpse of the kindly and
simple manner of the man whom the greater part of
Europe was combining to honour at this time, is given
by John Evelyn, who tells us that he waited on Lord
Godolphin and there found uthe victorious Duke of
Marlborough, who came to me and took me by the
hand with extraordinary familiarity and civility, as
formerly he used to do, without any alteration of his
good nature. He had a most rich George in a
sardonyx, set with diamonds of very great value ;
for the rest very plain. I had not seen him for some
years and believed he might have forgotten me."

On January jrd, 1705, the trophies of the victory
which had been temporarily placed in the Tower,
were removed to Westminster Hall, in a triumphal
procession, amidst the wild enthusiasm and ringing
cheers of the people who pressed from all quarters
to see them. An impressive pageantry accompanied
these conquests, headed by prancing horse guards,
by regiments of foot guards, by a cavalcade of the

tfteception in %onbon $6$

highest nobles in the land, and followed by a hundred
and twenty-eight pikemen each carrying a standard.
Artillery thundered, the swaying multitude were mad
with joy, as this glittering parade took its way through
the streets and the Green Park, where it was viewed
by the Queen and the Duchess of Marlborough ; for
not since the days of the Spanish Armada had such
an ostentatious spectacle delighted the public.

Three days later the duke attended a great
entertainment given him by the lord mayor and
heads of the city at the Goldsmiths' Hall. His
progress there was almost royal in its state and
reception ; for he drove in one of Her Majesty's
carriages attended by the Lord Treasurer, the Master
of the Horse, and the Prince of Hesse, and followed
by a numerous train of coaches in which were foreign
ministers, generals, and men of the first rank. Not
only were the streets through which he passed, thronged
by those eager to catch a glimpse of him, but windows
and roofs were crowded by those who lustily cheered
him. At Temple Bar he was met by the City
Marshals, and conducted to the hall where a great
feast was spread, and where presently the hero of the
hour heard his praises sounded in phrases that must
have quickened his heart.

Whilst these public demonstrations were being
continued, the Queen always generous, desired that
the duke should receive some substantial reward
from the nation. But remembering how her wishes
to endow his heirs had been thwarted the previous

364 Hbe Queen's Comrade

year, she thought it best that the suggestion of a
recompense should come from the representatives of
the people. Nor had she long to wait for this, for
on January nth, 1705, the Commons presented an
address to Her Majesty, asking her to consider the
means proper for perpetuating the memory of the
great services rendered the country by the Duke of
Marlborough.

The Queen returned a formal answer that she would
give their desire her consideration, and later sent a
message to the House saying " that she was inclined
to grant the honour and manor of Woodstock to the
Duke of Marlborough and his heirs for ever, and
that she desired the assistance of the House to effect
it." A more noble or gracious gift could scarce be
selected to reward the greatest achievement ; for
Woodstock with its ancient manor and leafy glades
was not only royal property, but had historic
associations of both the Plantagenet and Tudor
Sovereigns ; for the Black Prince had been born
there, it was the scene of Fair Rosamund's tragedy,
and the sometime residence of Elizabeth.

In accordance with Her Majesty's wishes and without
any opposition a Bill was passed by both Houses on
March I4th, 1705, giving this ancient and royal domain
to John Duke of Marlborough and his heirs for ever,
on the condition that the possessor should present to
the Queen and her successors "a standard or colours
with three flowers-de-luce painted on them, for all
manner of rent and services." Anxious to prove her

Moofcstocfe Destrosefc 365

personal gratitude in addition to that of the nation,
Her Majesty gave an order to the Board of Works
to erect at her expense a splendid palace to be known —
in commemoration of the victory — as the Castle of
Blenheim. Plans for this were submitted by Sir
Christopher Wren to Lord Godolphin who highly
approved of them, but the building was eventually
entrusted to Sir John Vanbrugh the architect, play-
wright, and friend of many good men, who was then
employed in erecting Castle Howard for Lord Carlisle.

Vanbrugh earnestly desired to preserve the ancient
royal residence at Woodstock, a picturesque building
with ivy-covered walls, corner towers, a quadrangle
court, and a gate-house, that stood on an elevated
spot, surrounded by woods and overlooking the river
Glynn ; but the duchess, who had no romance in her
nature, no reverence for ancient things, no delight in
historic legends or associations, would not allow it to
form part of the new building, or even to remain where
it stood as an object of interest and beauty that would
add to the view from the palace about to be built ;
and was not satisfied until every stone of it, including
its ancient chapel, was pulled down, and its materials
" made use of for things that were necessary to be
done " ; her chief reason for this piece of vandalism
being, that its preservation would be a useless expense.

The foundation stone of Blenheim Palace was laid
at six o'clock on the afternoon of June i8th, 1705.
From the account given in the news sheets of the
day, neither the Duke nor Duchess of Marlborough

366 Ubc (Queen's Comrade

seem to have been present. Seven gentlemen, we read,
flung down a guinea each, and then struck the founda-
tion stone which was eight feet square, was finely
polished, and had inlaid on it in pewter, the words
" In memory of the Battle of Blenheim June 18, 1705,
Anna Regina." When this ceremony was over,
festivities followed. " There were about a hundred
buckets, bowls, and pans filled with wine, punch,
cakes and ale. From my lord's house all went to
the Town Hall, where plenty of sack, claret, cakes,
etc., were prepared for the gentry and better sort ;
and under the Cross eight barrels of ale with abun-
dance of cakes were placed for the common people.
There were several sorts of musick, three morris
dances, one of young fellows, one of maidens and one
of old beldames."

Though in later years, and with what must be
politely termed her frequent inaccuracy, the duchess
was pleased to say in a letter written to Mr. Hutchinson,
that u the Queen never did a generous thing of
herself" ; yet a fresh proof of Her Majesty's bounty
and kindness was given to Her Grace at this time,
when as a souvenir of the victory of Blenheim,
Anne had a miniature portrait of the Duke painted
on ivory, covered with a diamond of the purest
water, cut with a table surface, framed with brilliants,
and valued at eight thousand pounds, which she
presented to the duchess.

Whilst Marlborough was being loaded with favours,
he was not forgetful of the exiled claimant to the

's Sacobfttsm 367

throne, and the Stuart papers state that he continued
to make secret professions and protestations of zeal
to King James's son. A short time after his return
to London, His Grace invited himself to sup with
his sister-in-law the Duchess of Tyrconnel, then paying
a short visit to town. Ardent in her advocacy of the
Prince of Wales, she reminded the duke of his former
promises and questioned him regarding his future
intentions ; but always cautious he answered her
merely in general terms. Not satisfied with this
she insisted on his coming to particulars, when he
solemnly assured her that without entering into cir-
cumstances or fixing time, he would do everything
which honour or justice demanded for the Prince.
Lord Godolphin had likewise given proof of his
zeal to the Queen over the water, by promising that
as Lord Treasurer, he would seek an opportunity
to pay part at least of the long arrears of her
jointure.

Though Queen Anne had been obliged to agree
to the settlement of the Crown on the House of
Hanover at her death, she frequently thought of her
unfortunate brother, and it was believed that, could
she have carried out her wishes, she would have
endeavoured to appoint him as her successor. In this
year 1705, a miniature portrait of him was secretly
conveyed to her, on seeing which she kissed it fondly
and burst into tears ; for the features before her not
only resembled those of her family, but forcibly
reminded her of her son the Duke of Gloucester, at

368 tTbe (Queen's Comrade

whose death she had written promises to her father,
which in dying he recalled to her, and that she had
made no effort to fulfil.

In this same year her sympathies with her brother
and her dislike of the House of Hanover were plainly
exhibited. The Parliament, which had sat for near
three years, was according to the Triennial Act passed
in the last year of William's reign, near its expiration ;
when Anne, who was exacting and jealous of all the
privileges of royalty, dissolved Parliament and so
preserved the ancient prerogative of the Crown. When
it reassembled in October, the Whigs were greatly in
the majority. As already stated the Queen by education
and inclination was led to dislike the predominating
party ; and since the beginning of her reign her favour
and patronage of the Tories had been a source of
contention between herself and her favourite who was
an ardent Whig. Party spirit now divided the Court,
the town, and the country into factions whose violence
seems incredible in modern times ; for not only did
men write pamphlets, fight duels, and besmear each
other's honour in the bitterness of their political ardour,
but women ever immoderate in their enthusiasms,
distinguished themselves by wearing patches on one
side of their face or the other, according to the section
they followed, that their sentiments might be seen at
a glance

The feelings of the Tories on being thrown out
of power may be imagined. To regain it they were
prepared to take any steps no matter how inconsistent

41 Between ZTwo Stools " 369

with their principles, which they were ready to sacrifice
in order to gain their ends. Their first effort was to
raise a cry of alarm that the Church was endangered
by the rule of the dissenting and republican Whigs ;
and to save it the Tories so far forgot their Jacobite
leanings as to suggest that the Princess Sophia of
Hanover, the next heir to the Crown should reside
in England ; it being argued that, although her
highness was a Lutheran, her presence would in some
mysterious manner protect the Church from its enemies,
The Tories also knew that this measure was so
objectionable to the Queen that she would never forgive
the Whigs if they supported it ; whilst they believed
the nation would decry the same party if they opposed
it ; so that between two stools they must come to
the ground.

The proposal to invite the Princess Sophia to
England was mooted by Lord Haversham, whose
intemperate language had caused the House of
Commons to threaten him on one occasion with
prosecution, and was supported by the Duke of
Buckingham and the Earls of Rochester and Notting-
ham. The Queen who deeply resented this suggestion,
had gone to the gallery of the House of Lords that
she might listen to the debates on this subject, and
perhaps temper their bitterness by her presence ; but
her mortification was intense when she heard Lord
Nottingham urge as an argument for inviting over
the Princess Sophia, who was then in her seventy-sixth
year — " that the Queen might live till she did not

370 tTbe dlueen's Comrabe

know what she did, and be like a child in the hands
of others.1'

In order to oppose their political enemies and gain
the favour of Her Majesty, the Whigs declared it was
best for the security of the Crown and the safety of
the nation that the heir presumptive should be in
entire dependence on the reigning sovereign ; and
that the rivalry which must arise between the two
courts would only create animosity between different
parties and involve them in disputes. The Queen
was so incensed by the Tories and so grateful to the
Whigs, that in a moment of impetuosity she wrote
to the duchess saying, " I believe dear Mrs. Freeman,
and I shall not disagree as we have formerly done ;
for I am sensible of the services those people have
done me that you have a good opinion of, and wiJl
countenance them, and am thoroughly convinced of
the malice and insolence of them that you have always
been speaking against.1'

But instead of all disagreements ending between
the Queen and the duchess, they rapidly increased,
until the close friendship that had bound them from
youth was finally sundered for ever. This was chiefly
effected by the duchess's inordinate sense of her own
importance since her husband's victory of Blenheim
and the honours that followed, as well as from the
fact that her supreme ascendency over her royal mis-
tress, was unwilling to tolerate Her Majesty's political
opinions and sympathy for her brother, which happened
to differ from her grace's sentiments.

lEarl of Sunfcerlanfc 371

Amongst the general causes for this growing
alienation was the particular instance of the appoint-
ment to office of Charles, Lord Spencer, who on the
recent death of his father had become third Earl of
Sunderland ; for the duchess desired that her son-in-
law should hold a place of trust and profit under
Government, whilst the Queen had an aversion to a
man — who Lord Dartmouth says " was universally
odious " — because of his republican principles, and his
opposing her wishes of continuing her consort in his
offices, in case he survived her.

Added to this, Her Majesty was unwilling to oust
Sir Charles Hedges from his office as Secretary of State,
which it was the duchess's determination should be
filled by her son-in-law. She had already induced the
Queen to take the Great Seal from Sir Nathan Wright
and give it to Sir William Cowper, a dissenter and a
Whig whom Her Majesty looked on with suspicion ;
but this fresh suggestion was not so graciously received.
Nor did the Duke of Marlborough, who had little
regard for his son-in-law, favour this design. Though
the extreme Tories had given his grace many causes
of mortification by hampering his plans, complaining
that he had exceeded the limits of his instructions,
and the responsibilities of a subject, in order to promote
his own interests, yet the duke had without breaking
with them, endeavoured to conciliate the moderate
and liberal members on both sides, and tranquillise all
by his own calm views and wise counsels.

But in the midst of worries and fatigues, whilst

372 zrfoe CJueen's Comrade

continuing his campaign abroad, he received letters
from the Queen, the Lord Treasurer, the Speaker, and
the duchess asking advice, making complaints, claiming
his interference, until he was oftentimes driven dis-
tracted. The impetuosity and intolerance so strongly
characteristic of his wife were at variance with his
gentleness aud toleration ; and she continually not
only carped at the Tories and lauded the Whigs, but
upbraided him with taunts and sarcasms that wounded
a nature far finer and more sensitive than her own.
In one of his answers to her written on August jrd,
1705, he says :

"I received yours of the iyth yesterday, in which
you complain of me having writ a cold letter, which you
think may be occasioned by one I had then received
from you. It is most certain that upon many occasions
I have the spleen and am weary of my life ; for my
friends give me much more uneasiness than my enemies.
But for you, my dearest life, I love you so well, and
have placed all my happiness in ending my days with
you, that I would venture ten thousand lives to preserve
your good opinion. You sometimes use the expression
of my c tory friends/ As I never will enter into party
and faction, I beg you will be so kind and just to me
as to believe that I have no friends but such as will
support the Queen and government."

In another letter written three weeks later he assures
the duchess that when he differs from her, it is not that
he thinks those are in the right whom she says are
always in the wrong : but it is that he would not enter

3Botb parties are in tlbe Mrons 373

into the unreasonable reasoning of either party, for he
had enough to contend with in carrying out his duties.

But he still continued to be besieged by correspondence
whose reports and rumours and complaints distressed
him ; so that he declares it is terrible to suffer so much
uneasiness. As to parties, he thinks both are in the
wrong ; but that the Queen had no choice but to
employ or put in office those who would carry on
the war, in other words the Whigs ; otherwise every-
thing would go wrong. He states that the jealousy
and suspicion he has to endure make him so weary,
that if it were not for his gratitude and concern for
Her Majesty, he would retire and serve no more.
" For I have had the good luck to deserve better
from all Englishmen," he adds, " than to be suspected
for not being in the true interest of my country, which
I am in, and ever will be, without being of a faction.
And this principle shall govern me for the little
remainder of my life. I must not think of being
popular, but I shall have the satisfaction of my
going to my grave with the opinion of having acted
as became an honest man. And if I have your esteem
and love, I should think myself entirely happy."

Knowing the influence he had with the Queen, his
wife forwarded Her Majesty this communication, and
at the same time wrote her a letter remarkable for its
freedom and force, as well as valuable in showing the
strain which their friendship suffered at this time,
October 1706.

The statement in the duke's letter that the Queen

374 ZTbe (SlueetVB Comrafce

had no choice but to employ those who would carry
on the war, gives the keynote to the duchess's angry
feelings ; for the Whigs were in favour of continuing
a campaign to which the Tories were opposed as
being a drain on the nation for which it made no
return ; and Her Majesty who was of their opinion
had only a short while before written to the duchess
saying she " had no ambition after the King of Spain
was settled on his throne, but to see an honourable
peace, that whenever it pleases God I shall dye, I may
have the satisfaction of leaving my poor country and
all my friends in peace and quiet."

Such a sentiment as this seemed to call for castigation
by the duchess, who as even her friend Bishop Burnet
admits, was " violent and sudden in her resolutions
and impetuous in her way of speaking." That she
was impetuous in her way of writing will also be
seen. In addressing the sovereign on this occasion,
she says

" I must in the first place remind you of the name
of Mrs. Morley, and of your faithful Freeman, because
without that help I shall not be well able to bring out
what I have to say, 'tis so awkward to write anything
of this kind in the style of an address, tho' none I
am sure ever came from a purer heart, nor can be
the tenth part so serviceable to you, if you please —
because they are generally meant for compliment, which
people in Mrs. Morley's post never want, though very
often it turns to their own prejudice.

" What I have to say is of another nature ; I will

44 plain an& Donest" 375

tell you the greatest truths in the world, which seldom
succeed with anybody so well as flattery.

" Ever since I received the enclosed letter from
Mr. Freeman, I have been in dispute with myself
whether I should send it to Mrs. Morley or not,
because his opinion is no news to you, and after the
great discouragements I have met with — only for being
faithful to you — I concluded it was to no manner of
purpose to trouble you any more. But reading the
letter over and over and finding that he is convinced
he must quit Mrs. Morley's service if she will not
be made sensible of the condition she is in, I have
at last resolved to send it to you, and you will see
by it, how full of gratitude Mr. Freeman is by his
expressions, which were never meant for Mrs. Morley
to see. He is resolved to venture his life and fortune,
whenever it can be of any use to you, and upon recalling
everything to my memory, that may fill my heart with
all the passion and tenderness I had once for Mrs.
Morley, I do solemnly protest I think I can no ways
return what I owe her, so well as being plain and honest.
As one mark of it, I desire you would reflect whether
you have never heard that the greatest misfortunes that
has ever happened to any of your family, has not been
occasioned by having ill advice and an obstinacy in their
tempers."

This was indeed a mark of plainness and honesty
such as probably no subject had ever before given to
a monarch. But more in the same strain follows.

" Though 'tis likely nobody has ever spoken

VOL. II. 4

ITbe CJueen's Gomrafce

thoroughly to you on those just misfortunes, I fear
there is reason to apprehend there is something of this
in the case of Mrs. Morley, since she has never been
able to answer any argument or to say anything that
has the least colour of reason in it, and yet will not be
advised by those that have given the greatest demon-
strations imaginable of being in her interest. I can
remember a time when she was as willing to take
advice, and loved those that spoke freely to her, and
that is not five years ago, and is it possible that when
you seriously reflect, that you can do the business
upon your hands without it ? Can flatteries in so short
a time have such a power ? Or can you think it is
safer to take advice from those you have little or no
experience of, than of those who have raised your glory
higher than was ever expected ? And let people talk
what they please of luck, I am persuaded that whoever
governs with the best sense, will be the most fortunate
of princes.

" I am sure this letter will surprise Mrs. Morley,
who I believe was in hopes she had got quite rid of me,
and should never have heard from me again on any
such subject ; but instead of that I have ventured to
tell you, you have a fault. There is no perfection in
this world, and whoever will be honest upon that
subject, does one in Mrs. Morley's circumstances more
service, than in venturing a hundred lives for her ; and
if I had as many, I am sure I could freely hazard them
all to convince her (though I am used as I don't care
to repeat) that she never had a more faithful servant."

/l&an" 377

Her Majesty's reply if ever written, has not been
discovered, but the effects of this letter and another
equally forcible, both printed by the duchess in the
Account of her Conduct, may be gauged by a sen-
tence or two penned by Lord Godolphin to her
grace. " You chide me for being touched with the
condition in which I saw the Queen," says he. " You
would have been so too, if you had seen the same
sight as I did." Eventually the duchess gained her
desire regarding her son-in-law ; for her partisans
having entered into a cabal against Sir Charles
Hedges, he resigned his post as Secretary of State,
when Lord Sunderland was appointed in his place
on December jrd.

It may be mentioned here that Lord Sunderland's
appointment was strongly opposed by the other Secretary
of State, Robert Harley, <c whose interest and secret
transactions with the Queen were then doubtless in their
beginning," writes the wrathful duchess. "This man,"
as she terms him, had shown such ability that he had
been three times elected Speaker of the House of
Commons before holding his present post. Although
bred a dissenter, he was in politics a moderate Tory.
His natural eloquence brightened by wit and humour,
his genial temper and pleasant conversation, made him
generally popular. But from the time he opposed the
Duchess of Marlborough's views, she regarded him with
an aversion that cost her far more than at this time she
would have believed possible.

Before Lord Sunderland's appointment was made,

378 Ube (Slueen's Comrafce

his father-in-law had won the great victory of Ramillies
which had placed his skill and courage at a much higher
point than ever in the eyes of Europe. In a letter
dated May 24th, 1706, which he wrote to announce the
event to his wife, the great general and affectionate
husband said, "I did not tell my dearest soul in my
last, the design I had of engaging the enemy if possible
to a battle, fearing the concern she has for me, might
make her uneasy ; but I can now give her the satis-
faction of letting her know that on Sunday last we
fought, and that God Almighty has been pleased to
give us a victory. I must leave the particulars to this
bearer, Colonel Richards, for having been on horseback
all Sunday, and after the battle marching all night, my
head aches to that degree that it is very uneasy for me
to write. Poor Bingfield holding my stirrup for me
and helping me on horseback was killed. I am told
that he leaves his wife and mother in a poor condition.
I can't write to any of my children, so that you will
let them know I am well, and that I desire they will
thank God for preserving me. And pray give my
duty to the Queen and let her know the truth of my
heart, that the greatest pleasure I have in this success
is, that it may be a great service to her affairs ; for
I am sincerely sensible of all her goodness to me and
mine. Pray believe me, when I assure you, that I love
you more than I can express."

The Queen, who was at Windsor when the news
reached her, at once wrote to the duke telling him she
wanted words to express her sense of the vast service

Biarg of State affairs 379

he had done his country, and begging that he would
take great care of himself. This victory excited as
much pride and enthusiasm as that of Blenheim, much
to the satisfaction of the Whigs. Addresses and con-
gratulations were offered Her Majesty ; praise of the
great general was universal, and another thanksgiving
held at St. Paul's, the whole ceremony being " per-
formed with great decency," says Narcissus Luttrell in his
" Diary of State Affairs." According to the same quaint
account, " there was a greater number of the nobility
attended than ever was known upon such an occasion ;
the Dutchesse of Marlborough and Countesse of
Burlington were in the coach with Her Majestie, the
prince not there, being unable to endure the fatigue ;
the guns in the park were discharged when she left
St. James's, the streets lined by the train'd bands, and
the several companies of this citty in their livery gouns,
and the houses crowded with spectators."

The return of the " wise and valiant general " to
London on November i8th, 1706, was the signal
for an outburst of enthusiasm by the public. Both
houses of parliament congratulated him on a success
" that no age can equal"; and later the House of
Lords requested Her Majesty to perpetuate his memory
by continuing his titles and honours in his posterity,
and solicited that she would be pleased to indicate
in what manner they should be limited. In reply the
Queen expressed her desire to have them extended
to his daughters and their heirs male in succession,
and recommended that the Manor of Woodstock

380 TTbe Queen's Comta&e

with the house of Blenheim should always descend
with the title.

Hearing this the duke, after thanking the peers
for their intention, said he had made an humble request
to the Queen and would also to their lordships, that
the Manor of Woodstock with the house of Blenheim
should go with the title after the Duchess of Marl-
borough's death, on whom they were settled in
jointure. This request was granted, and five thousand
a year settled in perpetuity on his heirs. For these
benefits the duchess thanked the Queen with a studied
coldness and formality that must have surprised her.
u Whether I have or have not the honour to see Your
Majesty," she wrote, " I find there must always be
something which obliges me to return you my humble
thanks. The concern I have in the settlement made
to Lord Marlborough's family by Act of Parliament,
makes a necessity of my giving you the trouble of
them upon this occasion ; and though it is not natural
to me to make you so many fine speeches and com-
pliments as some others can do, yet nobody has a
heart fuller of the sincerest wishes for your constant
happiness and prosperity than your poor forsaken
Freeman."

The tone of the above is explained by the indorse-
ment which the copy bears, by the writer, who says,
" This letter to the Queen shows that I did not omit
taking any reasonable occasion to please her, even
when I saw she was changed to me ; for it is certain
she never took any care of me in the settlement ;

ibouse 381

and if I am ever the better for it, it is not owing
to her friendship. But whatever the world said of
my behaviour to her, I never failed in performing
all manner of decencies and faithful services to her
whilst it was possible for me to do it."

A further token of the royal favour was given
to the duchess at this time. She had long desired
to have a town residence worthy of her position,
and had selected for its site a house standing in
St. James's Park close by the royal palace, formerly
occupied by the chaplains of Catherine of Braganza,
wife of Charles II., and known as the Friary. On
leaving England for Portugal, the Queen Dowager
had given this residence to the Comtesse de Royer
during Her Majesty's lifetime ; but when this ended
in 1707, the duchess again applied for the site, a grant
of which was given her for fifty years, together with
a portion of what had once been the royal pleasure
garden. The old house was quickly pulled down,
and on its site arose the handsome structure of red
brick and white stone now known as Marlborough
House. Its architect was Sir Christopher Wren, and
its cost was between forty and fifty thousand pounds,
but then, says the duchess " it is the strongest and
best house that ever was built."

An incident in connection with its erection gave
great offence to all lovers of the Stuart family ; for
in clearing the grounds for its site, a young oak was
cut down which had sprung from an acorn plucked
by Charles II. shortly after his restoration, from that

382 Ube Queen's Comrafce

famous tree at Boscobel in which he had hidden from
his pursuers. He had planted this in his private
garden, where he had proudly marked its growth from
year to year, and its removal by the duchess was
repaid by the town by many bitter lampoons directed
against her. It is evidently in reference to one of
these, that Peter Wentworth in writing to his brother
Lord Raby, says, " I have now sent you the verse of
the Garden Plot, which I had heard talk't of with
rude application, but cou'd not meet with before.
The house is to be built after the model of the Duke
of Bucks, upon which account there is struck up a
greatest friendship where there has lately been a
coolness, the said Duke and Dutchess with her Grace
of Marlborough visset their work very often together.
But since the Tatler has put out advertisement, that
he's a printing a choise collection of Latin sentances
for the benefitt of Mason and Builder, may be his
Grace will stay till he sees them come out, before he
resolves of any to be fix upon this new building, of
which he's the chief architect."

Meantime, the duchess's influence with Her Majesty
was gradually decreasing, the breach between them
was made wider not only by Her Grace's censure of
the Tories, but by her arbitrary manner which carried
independence to rudeness, and by letters which outstrip
the courtesy not only due from subject to sovereign
but from friend to friend. A dispute regarding
Church patronage added at this time to the estrange-
ment between them ; for the Queen, always anxious

Cburcb patronage 383

to support her prerogatives, desired to fill the vacant
dignities in the Church, whilst the duchess was of
opinion that power should be entrusted to the Keeper
of the Seals, Sir William Cowper who was willing to
wrest that privilege from Her Majesty. In reply
to a remonstrance written by the duchess on this
subject, the Queen gave it as her humble opinion
that the Crown could never have too many livings
at its disposal, and though it occasioned her some
trouble, it was a power she did not think reasonable
to part with. " You wrong me very much in thinking
I am influenced by some you mention (the Tories)
in disposing of Church preferments. Ask those whom
I am sure you will believe, though you won't me,"
says this Sovereign lady, " and they can tell you I
never dispose of any without advising with them (the
Whigs) and that I have preferred more people upon
others' recommendations than I have upon his that
you fancy to have so much power with me."

In former times, when the Queen and the duchess
parted for a day or two, the former had written to
express her longing for a sight of her friend ; but
now her grace's more and more frequent absences
from Court brought no expressions of regret, no
requests from her royal mistress to return.

And though Her Majesty had formerly penned
notes to her favourite four times a day, she now left
the duchess's letters unanswered for a week. "I am
made sensible that you were in a great disposition to
complain of me," writes the duchess to her Queen,

384 Ube dueen's Comtabe

and again she says, " I beg Your Majesty's pardon
for not waiting upon you, and I persuade myself that
long as my letter is, it will be less troublesome to
Your Majesty."

Up to this time her grace's implicit belief in her
power over her Sovereign slave, blinded her to the
immediate and personal cause of their ever-widening
estrangement ; but she was soon to learn who it was
that had gradually crept into that place in the royal
favour which, deeming it her own undisputed monopoly,
she had wilfully neglected to guard.

CHAPTER III

Admiral George Churchill is suspected by the Duchess
— Abigail Hill and Her Family — The Queen's
Friendship for Her Bedchamber Woman — A Design
" deeply laid " — Abigail's Secret Marriage — The
Queen's takes her Furtive Way to Dr. Arbuthnot's
Lodgings — The Duchess hears of It — Expostulates
with the Sovereign — Writes to the Duke — Ex-
planatory Letter from Her Majesty — Influence of
Robert Harley — Extraordinary Letter from the
Duchess to Her Majesty — Abigail writes to Her
Kinswoman — The Queen's Affectionate Note —
Abigail's Marriage is acknowledged — Two Unions
Which divert the Town— The Queen thinks Abigail
mightily in the Right — Abigail visits the Duchess —
A Woman raised from the Dust — Her Grace's
Anger with Abigail — The Queen "looked very
uneasy" — The Duchess "puts on an Easy
Appearance."

385

CHAPTER III

WHEN at last it became plain to the Duchess
of Marlborough that she no longer held her
former place in the Sovereign's friendship, instead of
attributing the cause to her own conduct, she imme-
diately suspected that her brother-in-law, Admiral
George Churchill, had influenced the Queen against
her. As a Gentleman of the Bedchamber to, and
prime favourite of, Prince George, whose duties as
Lord High Admiral he transacted for His Highness,
George Churchill — who is described as " a coarse fat
man much marked with small-pox " — was supposed
to have gained Her Majesty's ear ; whilst as he was
on unfriendly terms with his relatives, had agreed
with the Tories in condemning his brother's manage-
ment of the war, and at a public dinner had joined
in a sarcastic toast which reflected on the great general,
the duchess had little doubt as to the use he would
make of his influence with the Queen.

As usual, she hurried to communicate her grievances
to her lord, on which he wrote back : u I cannot
believe but that you lay a great deal more to George

387

388 TOe (Slueen'5 Comrafce

Churchiirs charge than he deserves ; for the Queen
has no great opinion of him, and never speaks to
him." Soon after the receipt of this letter her sus-
picions fell on another relative, one Abigail Hill, who
had been appointed as an attendant on Her Majesty
by the duchess, in order to lighten the duties which
became irksome to herself as she advanced in position.
Believing that gratitude and affinity would bind this
bedchamber woman to her own cause, she had placed
her in a position where she could observe and report
on the tactics of the Court and the feelings of the
Sovereign ; when satisfied with Abigail's conduct and
discretion, the duchess more and more frequently
absented herself from attendance on the Queen, of
which she was growing tired, it was only to discover
with inexpressible scorn that this bedchamber woman
was now honoured by Her Majesty's confidence and
affection.

As already stated, the duchess's grandfather, Sir
John Jennings, was the father of two-and-twenty
children. One of these married a merchant named
Hill, who was a cousin of Robert Harley. The
merchant had an unprosperous career, which led to
bankruptcy, and having brought four children into
the world, he himself quitted it. The duchess loftily
states she " never knew there were such people in the
world " until an acquaintance brought her word of
their existence and declared they were in want, on
which she immediately sent ten guineas to the aunt
she had never seen, with an assurance that she would

Hbtgatl fbill 389

do what she could for her and her children. After this
Mrs. Hill waited on her, and measures were taken to
provide for them. The eldest daughter Abigail,
already in service as a nurserymaid, was sent to
Holywell House, St. Albans, where, says the duchess,
" she lived with me and my children, and I treated
her with as great kindness as if she had been my
sister." Some time after, when a vacancy occurred,
she was made a Woman of the Bedchamber to the
Princess Anne, through the influence of her cousin ;
whilst the second daughter was appointed laundress
to the Duke of Gloucester, and on his death she
received a pension of two hundred a year. As for
the boys, the eldest was given a place in the Custom
House, and eventually rose to hold a good position.

" His brother, Jack Hill," writes the duchess, " was
a tall boy, whom I clothed (for he was all in rags)
and put to school at St. Albans to one Mr. James ;
and whenever I went there I sent for him, and was
as kind to him as if he had been my own child.
After he had learned what he could there, a vacancy
happening of Page of Honour to the Prince of
Denmark, his Highness was pleased at my request
to take him. I afterwards got my Lord Marlborough
to make him Groom of the Bedchamber to the Duke
of Gloucester; and though my lord always said that
Jack Hill was good for nothing, yet to oblige me
he made him his aide-de-camp, and afterwards gave
him a regiment."

Abigail Hill was an unattractive woman, with a

390 tTbe (SlueeiVs Comrafce

pallid face, a large red nose, and downcast eyes ; whilst
her movements were slow and silent, and her manners
unobtrusive. She was also observant, and the Queen
found her sympathetic ; for she was an ardent adherent
of the Stuart dynasty and a staunch Tory ; and when
bitter contentions between Her Majesty and the domi-
neering duchess had often reduced the Sovereign to
depression or tears, Abigail by a soothing word
showed her feelings for her mistress — a comfort which
was not lost on Anne, whose clinging nature demanded
kindness and affection from those around her.

As the coolness increased between Her Majesty and
her grace, the former extended her friendship to
Abigail, whom she gradually came to regard as her
comforter and confidant, in whom experience taught
her she might trust ; until in the afternoon hours,
when Prince George, now a chronic invalid, took his
customary nap, Abigail was summoned to narrate
the news of the town and the doings of Whig and
Tory partisans, which both agreed to praise or
condemn.

On another point they had also arrived at a common
agreement : that Her Majesty's favour of her servant
should be kept secret from the duchess, whose im-
perious temper both feared. When the latter waited
on the Queen, Abigail absented herself from the royal
presence, and when with her imperious kinswoman was
shy and reserved, and, as the latter wrote, " avoided
entering into free conversation with me, and made
excuses when I wanted her to go abroad with me ;

"H 2>eaf0n t>eepls laffc" 391

and what I thought ill-breeding or surly honesty has
since proved to be a design deeply laid, as she had
always the artifice to hide very carefully the power
which she had over the Queen."

But this " design deeply laid " had not yet been
discovered ; and Abigail's possession of the royal
favour might have remained unsuspected, if circum-
stances regarding her marriage had not brought it
to light. As she was a grown woman when first
she became known to the duchess, she must now have
been middle-aged. Her mature choice of a husband
fell on Samuel Masham, who by the favour of her
grace had been made page, equerry, and groom of
the bedchamber to Prince George.

The son of a baronet who had lost his property
because of his loyalty to Charles I., and who could
boast of a descent from George Plantagenet Duke of
Clarence, Samuel had by this time obtained a com-
mission in the Army in which he rose to the rank
of colonel, and is described by the duchess as "a
soft good-natured insignificant man, always making
low bows to everybody and ready to skip to open
a door."

The marriage, which in every way was suitable, took
place privately in the apartments of Her Majesty's
favourite physician Dr. Arbuthnot, in St. James's
Palace, in the spring of 1707, the Queen, whose gout
caused her to move slowly, taking her furtive way
by night through the long passages and corridors
that divided her apartments from the doctor's, that

VOL. II. 5

392 Ube Queen's Gomrafce

she might attend the ceremony ; and being accidentally
seen by the small son of one of her underservants,
through whom news of y[er Majesty's condescension
eventually reached the duchess. No reason for keeping
the marriage a secret is apparent, save that perhaps all
concerned feared the interference of her grace, whose
imperious will and pleasure it was to regulate all things
within the palace walls.

On hearing the news she immediately hurried to
Abigail and asked if it were true that she was married,
when the latter acknowledged it was, and asked pardon
for having concealed it. " As much reason as I had
to take ill this reserve in her behaviour," writes the
duchess, u I was willing to impute it to her bashfulness
and want of breeding, rather than to anything worse.
I embraced her with my usual tenderness and very
heartily wished her joy ; and then turning the discourse,
entered into her concerns in as friendly a manner as
possible, contriving how to accommodate her with lodg-
ings by removing her sister into some of my own.'*

She then enquired if the Queen knew of the marriage
and innocently offered her services if necessary to break
the news ; but Abigail, who " had by this time learnt
the art of dissimulation pretty well, replied that Her
Majesty had already been acquainted with it by the
bedchamber woman, " hoping," as the duchess explains,
" by this answer to divert any further examination into
the matter."

On hearing this the duchess's temper rose and
" bursting into the royal presence " she demanded of

"Some /listen? in tbe Hffair" 393

the Queen why she had not told her of Abigail's
marriage, " expostulating with her/' to use her own
phrase, " and reminding her that she used to say when
she was desired to keep anything a secret, she would
however tell it to me, because according to Montaigne's
observation, telling a thing to a friend, is only telling
it to oneself; but yet she had kept the secret of my
cousin Hill marrying Mr. Masham, a long time from
me. But the only thing I was concerned at, that it
plainly showed a change in Her Majesty towards me,
as I had once before observed to her : when the Queen
was pleased to say * that it was not she that was
changed but me, and that if I was the same to her,
she was sure she was to me ' ; the Queen added with
a good deal of earnestness, ' I believe I have spoken
to Masham a hundred times to tell you of her marriage,
but she would not/ This startled me and blind as
I had been before, I began to open my eyes when I
came to reflect upon these words which plainly implied
that Mrs. Masham had often had consultations with
the Queen, though she would not have been thought
to presume to speak to Her Majesty about this or
anything else."

" The conduct both of the Queen and Mrs. Masham/'
continues the duchess, " convinced me that there was
some mystery in the affair, and thereupon I set myself
to enquire as particularly as I could into it ; and in
less than a week's time I discovered that my cousin
was become an absolute favourite, — that the Queen
herself was present at her marriage in Dr. Arbuthnot's

394 ftbe (S&ueen's Comrade

lodgings, at which time Her Majesty had called- for
a round sum out of the privy purse ; that Mrs. Masham
came often to the Queen when the Prince was asleep,
and was generally two hours every day in private with
her ; and I likewise then discovered beyond all dispute
Mr. Harley's correspondence and interest at Court by
means of this woman. I was struck with astonishment
at such an instance of ingratitude, and should not
have believed, had there been any room left for
doubting."

The impetuous duchess immediately wrote to her
husband complaining of the abominable plot which had
undermined her, and of Abigail's treachery ; when he,
who was at this time in Lower Germany with his
army, replied briefly and with his usual temperate
judgment and good sense, that " The wisest thing is
to have to do with as few people as possible. If you
are sure that Mrs. Masham speaks of business to the
Queen, I should think you might with some caution
tell her of it, which would do good. For she certainly
must be grateful and will mind what you say."

The Duchess who indulged in the habit of letter
writing, so dangerous to impulsive people, then
addressed a note to the Queen concerning Abigail,
to which she received the following reply from Her
Majesty : " I beg you would not mention that person
any more who you are pleased to call the object of my
fayvour, for whatever caracter the malittious world may
give her, I do assure you it will never have any weight
with me, knowing she does not deserve it ; nor can

13our /I&ajests rin$?" 395

1 ever change the good impression you once gave
me of her, unless she should give me a cause, which
I am very sure she never will."

Abigail's possession of the royal favour seemed to
throw light on many small matters which previously
had not been thought worthy of notice. " It became
easy now to decypher many particulars," writes the
duchess, " which had hitherto remained mysterious,
and my reflection quickly brought to my mind many
passages which had seemed odd and unaccountable,
but had left no impressions of suspicion or jealousy.
Particularly I remembered that a long while before
this, being with the Queen (to whom I had gone
very privately by a secret passage from my lodgings
to the bedchamber) on a sudden this woman, not
knowing I was there, came in with the boldest and
gaiest air possible, but upon sight of me, stopped ;
and immediately changing her manner and making a
most solemn courtesy said, ' Did your Majesty ring ? '
and then went out again. This singular behaviour
needed no interpreter now to make it understood."

It was, however, sufficient to kindle the duchess's
rage, and to form the subject of a correspondence
between herself and royalty, as will be seen from the
following submissive letter written by the sorely tried
peace-loving Sovereign. " You are pleased to accuse
me," says Her Majesty, " of several things in your last
letter very unjustly, especially concerning Masham.
You say I avoided giving you a direct answer to what I
must know is your greatest uneasyness, giving it a turn

396 Ube Queen's Comrade

as if it were only the business of the day that had
occationed your suspicion. What I told you in my
letter is very true, and no turn as you are pleased to
call it. It is very true I had the minute before you
came into the door, sent for Masham to come to
prayers she being in waiting ; and as soon as you weare
gon I went to publick prayers and the minute they
were over went into my clossett to make an end of my
private ones, and I did not see Masham again until I
went to supper ; and I did not think it necessary when
I writt last to trouble you soe much on this subject,
hopeing you would have believed the short answer I
then gave you."

This letter which is preserved in the Blenheim library,
was not given by the duchess in the Account of her
Conduct, where mention is made of Abigail's " singular
behaviour " and complaints of the Queen's duplicity.

A greater grievance lay in store for her grace when,
from enquiries and watchfulness, she learned that the
detested Robert Harley, who was Abigail's kinsman
and friend, on pretence of transacting state business
with the Queen, had been frequently admitted to the
royal presence by the bedchamber woman, where he
endeavoured to strengthen Her Majesty's predilection
for the Tories, and ripen her prejudice against the
Whigs of whom her Ministry was largely composed ;
for with consummate skill he touched on the point to
which she was most sensitive — her royal prerogative —
and represented that as the Whigs engrossed all offices
of the State, they had reduced her to a degree of

Sn HnoitEmous jfrienfc 397

dependence unworthy of a Sovereign. Nor did he
fail, with that tact which was his great talent, to point
out how wholly she was dominated by the duchess,
and endeavour to persuade her to independence ;
words which were not lost on her pliant mind,
sorely humiliated by the haughty treatment she now
received from her former favourite.

As Harley was a Jacobite as well as a Tory, her grace
detested him, and in public " despised his civilities with
a haughty scorn," whilst in writing of him she could
not find words to describe him, had not an anonymous
friend been kind enough to supply them, as she states.
" He was," says this unnamed individual whose force so
strongly resembles that of her grace, " a cunning and a
dark man, of too small abilities to do much good, but
of all the qualities requisite to do mischief and to bring
on the ruin and destruction of a nation. This mis-
chievous darkness of his soul was written in his
countenance, and plainly legible in a very odd look,
disagreeable to everybody at first sight, which being
joined with a constant awkward motion or rather
agitation of his head and body, betrayed a turbulent
dishonesty within, even in the midst of those familiar
airs, jocular bowing and smiling, which he always
affected to cover what could not be covered."

Fortunately for him the world was not so discerning
as the duchess or her descriptive friend, so that he
continued to enjoy Her Majesty's favour, though it is
evident the latter is warned against him in the letter
written to the Queen by the duchess in the August of

398 zrbe CSlueen's Comrade

1707. This patronising epistle begins by requesting
Mrs. Morley to return a picture " which I know you
would not have me trouble you with/' says her grace ;
" and I have been so often discouraged in things of this
nature, that I believe nobody in the world but myself
would attempt it ; but I know Mrs. Morley's intentions
are good, and to let her run on in so many mistakes
that must of necessity draw her into great misfortunes
at last, is just as if one should see a friend's house on
fire and let them be burnt in their beds without en-
deavouring to wake them, only because they had taken
laudanum, and did not desire to be disturbed.

" This is the very case of poor dear Mrs. Morley ;
nothing seems agreeable to her but what comes from
the artifices of one that has been always reported to have a
great talent that way. I heartily wish she may discover
her true friends before she suffers for want of that
knowledge."

The concluding paragraph betrays the jealousy
the once- great favourite could not help feeling.
" Finding Mrs. Morley has so little time to spare,
unless it be to speak to those who are more agreeable,
or that say what she likes on these subjects, I have
taken the liberty to write an answer to this — which
you will say is sincere and can be no great trouble
to sign it with Morley."

The Queen who was spending the summer at
Windsor, where she delighted to hunt the stag in her
chaise, was now in better spirits than she had been since
the death of the little Duke, her son ; one cause for

Hnne'5 Domestic troubles 399

which was that in the previous spring, April 24th, 1707,
the union of Scotland with England had taken place,
a fact she described as " the happiness of her
reign." It must also have been a satisfaction to her
kindly nature that at the same time a barbarous law
was repealed in Scotland, which had allowed the torture
of criminals as a means of eliciting evidence ; a law
which had been set in force under Queen Mary, when
a follower of her father's, Nevill Payne, had been
tortured to death.

Her Majesty would have been much happier still but
for her domestic troubles, chief of which was the health
of her Consort, who through self-indulgence had grown
enormously stout, and who suffered severely from
asthma. Always devoted to him, her nights were
frequently disturbed by his fits of coughing and painful
efforts to catch breath, when assisted by Abigail, who
slept in an ante-room, she supported him in a sitting
position and did all she could to lessen his distress.

The strained situation regarding Her Majesty, the
duchess, and Abigail, remained the same throughout
the summer. When in attendance on the Queen at
Windsor, her grace generally found Mrs. Masham in
the waiting-room, ready to go into the royal presence as
she the duchess came out. On one of these occasions
as she passed, she told Abigail she desired to have
some talk with her, when the bedchamber woman
answered with a low courtesy and a great deal of
humility that she would wait upon her. But days
came and went until her grace was about to leave

400 Ube <&ueen'8 Comrabe

Windsor for Woodstock, and Abigail did not keep
her promise ; whereon her kinswoman wrote to her
on September 23rd, 1707.

"Since the conversation I had with you at your
lodgings, several things have happened to confirm
me in what I was hard to believe, that you have made
me returns very unsuitable to what I might have
expected. I always speak my mind so plainly, that
I should have told you so myself, if I had had the
opportunity which I hoped for. But being now so
near parting, think this way of letting you know it,
is like to be the least uneasy to you, as well as to
your humble servant." Having despatched this to
Abigail's apartments, the duchess waited all the
morning for a reply ; but as this was not forthcoming
she set out for Woodstock where an answer was sent
her, " the whole frame and style of which shewed it
to be the genuine product of an artful man who
knew perfectly well the management of such an affair."

This reply, which the duchess believed to have
been dictated by Harley, was written with a simplicity
and diplomacy that must have surprised and irritated
its receiver. " Whilst I was expecting a message from
your grace," it began, " to wait upon you according
to your commands, last night I received a letter which
surprises me no less than it afflicts me, because it
lays a most heavy charge upon me of an ungrateful
behaviour to your grace. Her Majesty was pleased
to tell me that you was angry with me for not
acquainting you with my marriage. I did believe

"Justice to fenow /!&£ Hccuser*

after so generous a pardon your Grace would think
no more of that.

" I am confident by the expression of your letter,
that somebody has told some malicious lie of me to
your grace, from which it is impossible for me to
vindicate myself till I know the crime I am accused
of. I am sure, madam, your goodness cannot deny
me what the meanest may ask the greatest ; I mean
justice to know my accuser. Without that all friend-
ship must be at the mercy of every malicious liar,
as they are who have so barbarously and unjustly
brought me under your displeasure, the greatest
unhappiness that could befal me. I therefore make
it my most humble request to your grace, that if
ever I had the least share of your friendship, you
would be pleased to give me that parting token to
let me know who this wicked person is, and then I
do not doubt but I shall make it plain how much
they have wronged me, as well as imposed upon your
grace. As my affliction is very great, you will I hope
in compassion let me hear from you, and believe me
what I really am, madam, your grace's most humble
and faithful servant."

The answer made by the duchess to this letter
was brief and candid. " Her complaints," she said,
were not caused by any ill offices done her, but resulted
from her own observations. But as she did not think
the subject could be discussed in a letter, she would
wait until they met to talk it over, and meanwhile
give her no further trouble.

Ube CJueen's Comrade

The duchess was now persuaded, not only that
she was being undermined in Her Majesty's favour
by Abigail, but that the latter was being used by
Robert Harley to strengthen the Queen's prejudices
against her Whig ministers, and in this way to hamper
their endeavours. Lord Godolphin, always timid and
vacillating, had by this time become a Whig ; having
been frightened into joining the ranks of those who
were once his opponents, by their general threats to
reveal his dealings with the King over the water, and
by the particular intimidation of Lord Wharton, who
declared he had " the lord treasurer's head in a bag."
Probably instructed by the duchess, Lord Godolphin
assured Her Majesty that Harley's interference with
the Government was of the utmost prejudice to her
affairs ; but the Queen placed little faith in what he
said of one whom she secretly favoured, on which the
Lord Treasurer, acting no doubt in obedience to a
stronger will than his own, said that if Harley continued
to act as he did, and have so much credit with her
as he had, both the Duke of Marlborough and himself
must quit her service. At this the poor Queen was
greatly troubled ; and, as had always been the case
when such threats had been made, she at once wrote
to her dear Mrs. Freeman. In a letter penned at
Kensington Palace on October 3Oth, 1707, she says
that if she had not answered all her friend's letters,
she hoped it would not be imputed to anything but
the fear she had of adding to the ill impressions
Mrs. Freeman entertained of her. For though both

44 Jnsenstble of i£x>erstbina " 403

were of the same opinion in the main, they could not
exactly agree in everything, and what she said was
not considered to have any reason in it, which made
her unwilling to enter into particulars.

"But though I am unwilling to do it," continues
the Queen, " it is impossible for me to help giving
you some answer to your last letter, in which I find
you think me insensible of everything. I am very
sorry you, who have known me so long, can give way
to such a thought as that I do not think the parting
with my Lord Marlborough and my lord treasurer
of much consequence, because I did not mention
anything of my Lord Marlborough's kind letter
concerning me. The reason of that was, I really
was in a great hurry when I writ to you, and not
having time to write on that subject to both, I thought
it was the most necessary to endeavour to let him
see he had no reason to have suspicions of any one's
having power with me besides himself and my lord
treasurer, and I hope they will believe me."

She trusts that dear Mrs. Freeman will not think
her so insensible of the great services rendered her
by the duke and Lord Godolphin, nor of the misfortune
it would be if they should quit her service. She was
however certain their love of honour and their
patriotism was too great to make them resign without
a cause; "And I beg," she concludes, "you would
not add that to my other misfortunes, of pushing
them on to such an unjust and unjustifiable action.
I think I had best say no more for fear of being too

404 ITbe (Slueen's Comrabe

troublesome. But whatever becomes of me, I shall
always preserve a most sincere and tender passion for
my dear Mrs. Freeman to my last moment."

Not satisfied with these expressions of humility and
affection, and probably in the hope of softening the
Duchess's mind, the Queen wrote her another letter
a few days later, so generous and appealing that it
must be given in full.

" My dear Mrs. Freeman.," it ran ; "I cannot go to
bed without renewing a request that I have often made,
that you would banish all unkind and unjust thoughts
of your poor unfortunate faithful Morley, which I saw
by the glimpse I had of you yesterday you were full
of. Indeed I do not deserve them, and if you could
see my heart, you would find it as sincere, as tender,
and passionately fond of you as ever, and as truly
sensible of your kindness in telling me your mind
freely upon all occasions. Nothing shall ever alter me.
Though we have the misfortune to differ in some
things, I will ever be the same to my dear, dear
Mrs. Freeman, who I do assure once more, I am more
tenderly and sincerely hers than it is possible ever to
express."

When the Court came to town, Abigail acknow-
ledged her marriage, which there had never been any
reason to conceal, and was congratulated by her friends.
Any notice it caused was completely eclipsed by two
other unions which were celebrated at this time. The
first was that of the eccentric Lady Derwentwater,
daughter of Charles II. and Moll Davis. She had

to fetes (Brtason" 405

first been united to a certain Mr. Grims, but he,
departing from this weary world and his flighty wife,
she gave herself to James Roock. Writing of the
event Lady Wentworth says : " Grims has been
dead not three-qrs of a year yet ; she turned Lady
Tuften's children out of the church and said she
would not be marryed tel they went out. She was
marryed in whit sattin and she came and went in
her moarning coach. She has setled fower hundred
a year upon him for her life, and the rest she keeps
for herself and hous."

The second marriage, which caused much amusement,
is gossiped about by another member of the Wentworth
family, and is contained in the Wentworth papers.
" Mrs. Harriett Cavendish that used to kiss Grigson
the gardener is married to Lord Huntingtower ; and
Lord Dissert his father says he suspected it, and could
have hindered itt if he had pleased, but if he had
known his son would have hang'd himself or cut his
throat he should not have hindered him."

But such gossip did not divert the duchess from
thinking of her grievances regarding Abigail, who was
expected to wait on her grace when the latter re-
turned from Woodstock. "But to my great surprize/'
says the Duchess, " I was twelve days at St. James's
under the same roof with her, before I had so much
as any message from her. At length, having one night
past by her window in my return home, she sent one
of her maids to my woman to ask her how I did, and
to let me know that she was gone to Kensington."

406 zrbe (Queen's (Tomrabe

This behaviour seemed so ridiculous to the duchess,
that when next she saw the Queen she could not help
speaking of it, and at the same time telling her of
what had passed between them. " The Queen looked
grave," to quote the duchess's words, " and said she
(Abigail) was mightily in the right not to come near
me. T answered that I did not understand that, since
she had expressed such a concern at my displeasure,
and since the clearing up of matters had been reserved
to our meeting. The Queen replied that it was very
natural for her to be afraid to come to me, when
she saw I was angry with her. To this I answered
that she could have no reason to be afraid, unless she
knew herself guilty of some crime. It was the Queen's
usual way on any occasion where she was predetermined,
(and my Lord Marlborough has told me that it was
her father's,) to repeat over and over some principal
words she had resolved to use, and to stick firmly to
them. She continued therefore to say it was very
natural, and she (Abigail) was very much in the
right. So that this conversation with Her Majesty
produced nothing but an undeniable proof that the
new favourite was deeply rooted in her heart and
affections ; and that it was thought more advisable
to let the breach between me and Mrs. Masham
grow wider and wider, than to see any method to
make it up."

The suave and compliant Godolphin was asked to
remonstrate with the Queen, when he, thinking it not
beneath him to interfere in this petty quarrel about a

"H Bab purpose at Bottom " 407

bedchamber woman, did as he was bidden, and reported
that " he had indeed convinced the Queen that Mrs.
Masham was in the wrong ; but that it was evident
that Her Majesty would have preferred considering
her to be in the right."

It was possibly as a result of his representations
that a day or two later Abigail wrote to the duchess
asking her " to appoint a time to be waited on, that
she might learn from her wherein she had offended. "
A time and place were named, and Abigail appeared
before the irate duchess, as might a prisoner before
his judge. With her customary straightforwardness
her grace began by plunging into the subject of their
dispute. It was plain, she said, that the Queen
was much changed towards her, and that such change
could only be attributed to Abigail's secret manage-
ment ; that the latter had been frequently with Her
Majesty in private, and that the very fact of her
attempting to conceal this by artifice from such a
friend, was in itself a very ill sign and enough to prove
a bad purpose at bottom."

At this and whatever else the duchess may have
said and left unwritten, Abigail burst into tears, and
in her nervousness made a tactless remark, that she
was sure the Queen who had loved the duchess
extremely, would always be very kind to her. The
effect of these words may be imagined.

" It was some minutes," wrote her grace, " before
I could recover from the surprize with which so
extraordinary an answer struck me. To see a woman

VOL. II. 6

408 ftbe (Queen's Comrabe

whom I had raised out of the dust, put on such a
superior air, and to hear her assure me by way of
consolation, that the Queen would be always kind to
me. At length I went on to reproach her with her
ingratitude and her secret management with the Queen
to undermine those who had so long and with so much
honour served Her Majesty. To this she answered
that she never spoke to the Queen about business,
but that she sometimes gave her petitions which came
to the back stairs, and with which she knew I did not
care to be troubled. And with such insincere answers
she thought to colour over the matter, while I knew
for certain she had before this, obtained pensions for
several of her friends, and had frequently paid to
others out of the privy purse, sums of money which
the Queen had ordered me to bring her ; and that
she was every day, long with Her Majesty in private."
Abigail heard these reproaches in silence and then
rising suddenly hoped the duchess would give her
leave to call occasionally and enquire for her health,
" which however/' adds her kinswoman, " it is plain
she did not design to do, for she never once came
near me after this." For all that, when Abigail's
marriage was made public, the duchess and her
daughter, Lady Sunderland, called on her : " not,"
says the former, " that I intended to have any further
intercourse with her, or to dissemble the ill opinion
I had of her (as I had fully resolved to let her then
know, in case I found an opportunity of speaking to
her privately) but purely out of respect to the Queen,

SARAH, DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.

Page 408.]

"Wttbout ©ne Ifcinfc Motto" 4^9

and to avoid any noise or disagreeable discourse which
my refusing that ordinary part of civility might
occasion."

The duchess continued in a state of anger with
Abigail, and of indignation with the Queen : for like
many another well-meaning, tactless, and self-righteous
person, she was blind to her own shortcomings, and
could not see that her own acts and words had caused
this alienation between herself and her sovereign.
When the Christmas holidays came, she went to pay
her respects to the Queen, but before entering the
royal presence, found time to learn from a page that
Mrs. Masham had just been sent for by Her Majesty.
When the duchess went to the Queen she saw that
her Sovereign looked very uneasy. " She stood all
the while I was with her," writes her grace, " and
looked as coldly upon me as if her intention was that
I should no longer doubt of my loss of her affections.
Upon observing what reception I had, I said I was
very sorry I had happened to come so unseasonably.
I was making my courtesy to go away, when the
Queen with a great deal of disorder in her face and
without speaking one word, took me by the hand ;
and when thereupon I stooped to kiss hers, she took
me up with a very cold embrace and then without
one kind word, let me go."

As may be imagined the duchess on returning home
treated Her Majesty to one of those expostulations
framed " in the plainest and sincerest manner possible."
Amongst other things she pointed out the difference

410 ube (Queen's Comrade

between her last reception and those she had formerly
met with when Mrs. Morley was so glad to welcome,
so sorry to part from her ; and declared her reproaches
were not to be wondered at on receiving an embrace
" that seemed to have no satisfaction in it, but that
of getting rid of her, in order to enjoy the conversation
of one that has the good fortune to please you much
better, though I am sure nobody did ever endeavour
it with more sincerity than Mrs. Freeman has done."

It was some days before an answer was made to
this lengthy epistle, when the Queen, always anxious
for peace, " softened what had past." On that the
duchess was so much pleased that she " once more
put on as easy an appearance as she could " ; and
the year ended without further outbreaks of hostility
between them.

CHAPTER IV

A Troublesome Year for the Queen — Her Unwillingness
to part with Robert Harley — Difficulties with Her
Council — The Duchess of Maryborough's Request
— Her Letter to the Queen — News of an Invasion —
Anne's Regard for Her Brother — Who for the First
Time is spoken of as The Pretender — Her Majesty's
Dread of the House of Hanover — The Queen is
lectured by the Duke of Maryborough — Her Meek
Reply — The Duchess is once more wrathful —
Commands Her Sovereign to be silent — Letters
from Her Grace — Replies from the Queen — Her
Majesty goes to Bath— Illness of Prince George
— An Italian Magician offers to heal Him —
Prevalent Belief in Occult Power — Fortune-tellers
and Astrologers — John Partridge, Student in
Physick and Astrology — Dean Swift's Joke and
Its Consequences — Prince George dies — The
Duchess and the Queen — Jealousy of Abigail —
Parliament wishes Her Majesty to marry again
— Her Judicious Reply — Court Mourning — The
Duchess writes to the Queen — Her Majesty
complains to the Duke of His Wife— The Latter
has a Violent Interview with Her Sovereign —
The Duke again speaks of retiring.

411

CHAPTER IV

THE following year 1708, was destined to produce
many events which sorely tried the Queen.
The first of these happened in February when she
was forced to part with Robert Harley, a Tory minister
whom she had come to regard as her friend and adviser,
but whose influence and intentions were dreaded by
the Whig ministers in general, and Lord Godolphin
and the Duke of Marlborough in particular. The
former had frequently threatened to resign his post
as Treasurer should Harley be retained in office ;
whilst the latter wrote to the Queen that out of
regard to his honour and reputation " no consideration
could make him serve any longer with that man."
He furthermore requested Her Majesty to regard
him as forced out of her service so long as Harley
continued in it.

These threats had little effect on the Queen who
was unwilling to dismiss Harley, and a Cabinet Council
was summoned as usual for Sunday, February 9th ;
Sundays being generally the days selected by Her
Majesty for holding council with her ministers. Before

4'3

(Siueen'0 Comrabe

the Cabinet assembled the duke waited on his Sovereign
and repeated his determination not to sit at the same
board with Harley, on which she earnestly strove to
alter his decision ; and would not promise to part
with Harley. At the appointed hour the Cabinet
Council assembled but neither Godolphin nor Marl-
borough were present. Her Majesty having taken
her seat, Harley as usual began with the business of
the day, when half-smothered murmurs were heard,
on which he paused ; when the Duke of Somerset
rose and addressing the Queen said " that if she
suffered that fellow to treat of affairs of the war
without the advice of the general, he could not serve
her."

At this the Queen broke up the meeting and retired
in anger and alarm. News of what had happened
spread rapidly through the town causing the greatest
concern, the Whigs expressing bitter dissatisfaction.
But for all that Her Majesty refused to dismiss Harley
until he came and begged her to accept his resignation.
This request was backed by Prince George who was
alarmed by the feeling roused against the Secretary,
and Harley went out of office.

Speaking of the disturbed Cabinet meeting, Lord
Dartmouth says " Next morning the Duke of Rox-
borough came to my house and told me the Duke
of Marlborough was gone in a great pet to the Lodge
at Windsor, and left the Queen incensed beyond
measure. I asked him if he had seen her. He said
there were particular reasons which made it improper

continues Ube Mar 415

for him, but advised me to go immediately and make
my compliments, which he could assure me would
be very well taken. Accordingly I went ; the Queen
received me most graciously, and it was plain I had
not been sent thither by chance. After I had made
some professions of duty and zeal for her service,
and resentment for the insolent treatment I understood
she had received from some of her servants . . .
I asked her if it would be agreeable that other people
should express their duty upon that occasion. She
said it would ; upon which the back stairs were very
much crowded for two or three days till the Duke
of Marlborough was advised to return and make his
submissions ; which in appearance were accepted by
the Queen."

Robert Harley's resignation was followed by others,
and satisfied with the fresh appointments made, the
Duke of Marlborough went abroad to continue the
war.

A day or two before his departure, the duchess
waited upon Her Majesty to give her a piece of
her mind. She began by saying that although the
Queen did not speak of her affairs as formerly to
her friend, yet everything that passed was told her
by the duke and Lord Godolphin, who she foresaw
would be forced to leave Her Majesty's service very
soon. When this happened, the duchess continued,
she could no longer remain at Court. She had
therefore a favour to ask Her Majesty, that she
would give her leave to resign her appointments to

4i 6 zrbe (Queen's Comrafce

her children, so that she might have the satisfaction
of seeing them enjoy these places as legacies from
herself.

The Queen remained silent and embarrassed at this
unexpected request to continue in the same family,
posts which were valued at between six and nine
thousand a year ; but the duchess continued her
importunities by saying that her daughter's appoint-
ments could not injure any one, and nobody could
wonder that Her Majesty would wish to bestow this
mark of favour and friendship on one who had served
her so long : all of which, as she admits, the Queen
heard " very patiently," and at length, possibly by
way of avoiding a promise, said she could not grant
this request because she would not part with the
duchess as long as she lived.

" But I still continued to press the Queen to grant
me the favour I desired of her and the Queen denied
it in the same kind way," writes her grace. " At
last the whole ended with this, that if the duke
could continue in her service, I should not desire
to leave her ; but if that proved to be impossible,
I hoped she would be pleased to grant my request
of resigning my places to my children. The Queen
promised me she would do it, and I kissed her hand
on that account." Not satisfied with this verbal
promise, the duchess did not rest until Her Majesty
had also given it to her in writing. And scarcely
was this done when, on March 3ist, she wrote the
following letter.

jfurtber C&uarrels 417

" MADAM. Upon Lord Maryborough's going into
Holland, I believe your Majesty will neither be sur-
prised nor displeased to hear I am gone into the
country, since by your very hard and uncommon
usage of me, you have convinced all sorts of people
as well as myself, that nothing would be so uneasy
to you as my near attendance. Upon this account
I thought it might not be improper at my going
into the country, to acquaint your Majesty that even
while Lord Marlborough continues in your service,
as well as when he finds himself obliged to leave it,
if your Majesty thinks fit to dispose of my employ-
ments according to the solemn assurances you have
been pleased to give me, you shall meet with all
the submission and acknowledgments imaginable."

Her resignation was not accepted and her quarrels
with royalty were continued for some short time
longer.

It was at this period that an alarm spread through
the kingdom that King James's son was about to
invade Scotland. To this purpose he was brought
by the disaffection to Anne and the loyalty to him-
self existing in that country, especially amongst the
Highland clans ; by the Queen's known timidity,
and her aversion to the Hanoverian line ; by the
correspondence that had passed between himself and
Marlborough and Godolphin ; by the favour in which
he was held by many Tories ; and by the support
of the Jacobites. Whether he intended to claim the
crown or merely to secure his succession is unknown.

418 ube (Queen's Comrafce

Preparations were immediately made to meet the
attack, and a Cabinet Council was held presided over
by the Queen, who was deeply distressed by fears
for the safety of her country and the fate of her
brother. At this council Admiral Sir George Byng
was commanded to sail for Dunkirk with twenty-three
ships of war. On asking for instructions as to how
the Prince should be treated in case he fell into his
hands, it was suggested by some present that u measures
of despatch " or death, should be dealt him, on which
the Queen burst into tears and the council broke
up in confusion.

The invasion was mere child's play, though entered
into very seriously by the Prince, then in his twentieth
year, who under the name of the Chevalier de St.
George, joined the expedition. His ship carried
services of gold plate, liveries, uniforms, and every
requisite for a splendid court ; whilst his banners and
colours bearing the royal motto " Dieu et mon droit,"
had been blessed by the pope.

No landing was gained by the invader, and the
single running fight between his handful of ships and
the English squadron could not be dignified by the
name of an engagement. One of the enemy's ships
called the Salisbury, once captured by France was
now retaken, the others were driven out to sea and
were glad enough to return to France, though with
the loss of four thousand men from hardship and
sickness. The Prince was not captured, though
four of his English followers met that fate ; they

"/Ifcan proposes, Gob Msposes" 419

being Lord Griffin, Lord Clermont, his brother Mr.
Middleton, and Colonel Warcope. All of them were
tried for high treason and Lord Griffin was condemned
to death ; but the Queen was miserable that this old
friend and follower of her father's, and adherent of
her brother's should be executed, and she granted him
a reprieve. Eventually he died in the Tower, it was
supposed of old age.

Though having little belief that this invasion could
succeed, both Marlborough and Godolphin were eager
to hear of its results. When news was brought them
of the dispersal of the French fleet, the former kept
silent, but Godolphin after a pause raised his eyes
and said " Well, man proposes and God disposes."

Parliament congratulated the Queen on the defeat
of the invasion, and in speaking the reply framed
for her, she for the first time referred to her brother
as the Pretender, a term by which he was henceforth
known to all supporters of the House of Hanover.
At this period Her Majesty was much disturbed by
an intimation given her by Lord Haversham, that
Parliament intended during the next session to force
her into inviting the Electoral Prince — afterwards
George II. to reside in England. In her alarm she
wrote to the Duke of Marlborough then in Germany,
begging that he would discover whether there was a
design " that the young man should make a visit in the
winter, and contrive some way to put any such thought
out of their head, that the difficulty may not be brought
upon me of refusing him leave to come, if he should

420 tlbe diueen'0 Comrabc

ask it ; or forbidding him to come if he should attempt
it. For one of these two things I must do, if either
he or his father should have any desires to have him
see this country ; it being a thing I cannot bear to
have any successor here, though but for a week. And
therefore I shall depend upon you, to do everything
on the other side of the water to prevent this mortifica-
tion from coming upon her that is and ever will be
most sincerely yours. "

The fact that the duchess, with her customary want
of tact, had recommended this visit to the Queen, did
not help to reconcile them ; the former acting in this
as the mouthpiece of her party, who a little while
before had opposed an invitation to the Electress
Sophia, in order to gain Her Majesty's favour ;
despairing of which they were now willing to show
their resentment by harassing her. Amongst Her
Majesty's other troubles at this time were the failing
health of her husband ; an endeavour to dismiss Abigail;
and the conduct of Lord Sunderland whom she accused
of employing her name and authority to secure the
election of his own partisans, and who in turn rudely
remonstrated with her on her partiality for the Tories.
In writing of him to Lord Godolphin on June 22nd
of this year she says : "I cannot forbear putting you
in mind of the promise you made to me when I first
took this person into my service, which was that if
he did anything I did not like, or something to that
purpose, you would bring him to make his leg and
to take his leave. I need not mention the many

"Mfoen will all ttbfs Blootebefc cease ?" 421

instances that are' past of his behaviour ; you must
remember them very well."

It was no wonder she complained that there was
no end to her troubles, and that in a letter to the
Duke of Marlborough — in which by the way she terms
herself his sincere and humble servant — she should
speak of her afflicted heart.

In July the duke at, a great loss of life, won the famous
victory of Oudenard. When the news was communicated
to the Queen she, according to Tindal, exclaimed, " O
Lord when will all this bloodshed cease ? " However,
a letter of hers to the Duke remains, dated from
Windsor on July 6th, 1708, in which she declares she
wants words to express the joy she felt for such a
glorious success, for which, next to God, her thanks
are due to her great general. " And indeed," continues
this epistle, " I can never say enough for all the great
and faithful services you have ever done me. But
be so just as to believe, I am as truly sensible of them
as a grateful heart can be, and shall be ready to show
it upon all occasions. I hope you cannot doubt of my
esteem and friendship for you ; nor think, because I
differ from you in some things, it is for want of either.
No, I do assure you, if you were here, I am sure
you would not think me so much in the wrong in
some things as I fear you do now. . . . And be assured
I shall ever be sincerely your humble servant."

To this the duke replied by returning thanks for
her goodness, and saying that whilst he was ready to
give his life for her service in the Army, he would

422 ube (Queen's Comrabe

no longer hold office in her Ministry. He felt obliged
he continued, to speak his mind freely, and assured
her it was her duty as a good Christian to have no
more resentments to any particular person or party,
but to make use of such as could carry on the war
with vigour, which was the only way " to preserve our
religion, our liberties, and the crown on your head."

With this lecture ringing in her royal ears, the poor
distracted Queen sat down to reply to the great
general. In the course of her letter she says : " For
tho' you say you will serve me as a general but not
as a minister, I shall always look upon you as both,
and never separate those two characters, but ask your
advice in both capacities on all occasions. You seem
to wave giving any answer to these two letters I have
mentioned, and after answering my sincere congratulations
on your last glorious success, you tell me you think
I am obliged in conscience as a good Christian to
forgive and forget all resentments I may have to any
particular person or party. I thank God I do forgive
all my enemies with all my heart, but it is wholly
impossible in human nature, to forget people's behaviour
in things so fresh in one's memory, so far as to have
a good opinion of them."

However, the duke's faithful and humble servant
celebrated his victory by going once more to St. Paul's
Cathedral and there returning thanks for that event.
The 1 9th of August was fixed for the occasion, and on
that peerless summer day great crowds gathered in
the streets, and much bustle and preparation were made

tTbe Bucfoess's Jealous ffvirp 423

outside and inside St. James's Palace, from whence the
royal procession was to start. Her Majesty 's private
apartments were crowded from an early hour in the
morning by her dressers, her women of the bedchamber,
her ladies of the bedchamber, her maids of honour and
ladies-in-waiting, the Duchess of Marlborough moving
supreme and commanding amongst them. As Mistress
of the Robes, she laid out the jewels which she wished
the Queen to wear, but Her Majesty who never cared
for such adornment, absolutely refused to don them ;
an act her grace set down to the influence or
interference of Abigail.

Great therefore was the duchess's wrath at this
disobedience of her Sovereign, and an altercation was
begun in the palace and continued in the royal carriage,
nor could the duchess's jealous fury be silenced in the
church where she continued to complain, not only
of Mrs. Masham's influence, but of the duke's loss
of Her Majesty's confidence and favour ; and when
the Queen would have replied, she was haughtily
commanded to keep silent. Although Anne had
borne with stormy interviews, taunting language, im-
pertinent letters, and a contemptuous air to which two
contemporaries bear witness, this last insult from the
duchess touched her to the quick, and was never
forgotten or forgiven.

The proverbial calm failed to succeed this storm,
for next day the duchess forwarded a letter of the
duke's, together with a peremptory note from herself
which said, " I cannot help sending Your Majesty

VOL. II. 7

424 ftbe (Siueen's Comrade

this letter to show how exactly Lord Marlborough
agrees with me in my opinion, that he has now no
interest with you ; though when I said so in the church
on Thursday, you were pleased to say it was untrue.
And yet I think he will be surprised to hear that
when I had taken so much pains to put your jewels
in a way that I thought you would like, Mrs. Masham
could make you refuse to wear them, in so unkind
a manner ; because that was a power she had not
thought fit to exercise before.

" I will make no reflections upon it ; only that I
must needs observe, that Your Majesty choose a very
wrong day to mortify me, when you were just going
to return thanks for a victory obtained by Lord
Marlborough."

After two days' deliberation the Queen wrote the
following answer which shows a marked change from
her usual communications : " After the commands you
gave me on the thanksgiving day, of not answering
you, I should not have troubled you with these lines,
but to return the Duke of Marlborough's letter safe
into your hands, and for the same reason do not
say anything to that, nor to yours which enclosed it."

The duchess declares she thought this letter ex-
traordinary, and she hurried to write a long reply,
which contained no word of apology or regret. It
was intended, as she roughly stated, " to explain what
you seem to mistake in what I said at church. I
desired you not to answer me there, for fear of being
overheard. And this you interpret as if I had desired

IDfett to ffiatb 425

you not to answer me at all, which was far from my
intention. For the whole end of my writing to you
so often was to get your answer to several things in
which we differed ; that if I was in the wrong you
might convince me of it, and I should very readily
have owned my mistakes. But since you have not
been pleased to show them to me, I flatter myself
that I have said several things to you that are
unanswerable."

After this stroke her grace makes a bargain with
her Sovereign ; for if the latter will listen to the
duke's advice, and convince him he has not lost credit
with her, the duchess will trouble her no more with
disagreeable letters. She concludes by saying " The
word command which you use at the beginning of your
letter is very unjustly supposed to come from me.
For though I have always writ to you as a friend,
and lived with you as such for so many years with
all the truth and honesty and zeal for your service
that was possible, yet I shall never forget that I am
your subject, nor cease to be a faithful one."

Before the month of August ended, the Queen and
her Consort set out from Windsor to Bath, whose
waters, it was hoped, would benefit him. The Royal
pair and their suite took three days to make the
journey, resting one night at Oxford, where they were
loyally entertained, not only with a great dinner, but
with a vocal and instrumental concert, where " several
poesies were exhibited in honour of their visit."
Within half a mile of Bath they were met by two

426 ube Queens Comrabe

hundred maids most richly dressed, all in the costume
of Amazons, and at the west gate the mayor and
corporation welcomed them with many formalities,
and conducted them to the Abbey House, which had
been prepared for their reception. The night closed
in with illuminations and other popular manifestations
of joy.

A month's stay at " the Bath," as the phraseology
of the day had it, was of little service to the Prince
of Denmark, whose end, it was seen, could not be
far distant. And news of his illness spreading through
Europe, Her Majesty received a quaint and curious
letter, yet preserved in the State Paper Office, from
an Italian living near Asti, who was not only a
nobleman, but a philosopher, a magician, and an
alchymist. This individual, whose estates had been
ruined by the war, offered, in consideration of ten
thousand pounds sterling, to restore her high and
mighty Majesty to her former youth and beauty and
to heal her serene Consort. Nay, in his extreme
generosity, he stated that, if Anne would give him
apartments in the Tower, he would by his wonderful
art of alchymy convert copper, brass, and other base
metals into gold for her use.

That he did not use this remarkable power to
enrich himself, instead of asking from another, must
have struck the Queen as strange, and probably de-
stroyed her faith in his ability to heal and rejuvenate.
It may be mentioned here that at this time belief in
an all-ruling fate, in the power to foresee and predict,

"ZTbe Stan of ZTbe parrot'* 427

in the unknown forces surrounding and swaying
humanity, in the lore generally termed occult, was
as common as it is now. Charles I. had consulted
William Lilly the astrologer, though he had failed
to take that wise man's advice. The same seer had
been summoned to appear before the House of
Commons on October 25th, 1666, to account to the
eager crowd that assembled to see him, for the manner
by which some years previous to their occurrence,
he had predicted the fire and the plague that had
devastated London ; to which he answered simply
that he had applied the judgment God had given
him to the study of his art, whereby such things
were made known ; satisfied with which answer, the
Commons dismissed him with much civility.

As already mentioned, Queen Mary had consulted
Mrs. Wise, the popular fortune-teller, and the Lord
Treasurer spent much time in search of the philo-
sopher's stone. Those in lower stations resorted to
the astrologers, who in more liberal days were not
liable to the law as rogues and vagabonds, and
therefore advertised in boldness and with security.

Some amusing examples of their recommendations
of themselves to the public, remain to us in the Harleian
Manuscripts and in the newspapers of the day. One
of the fraternity, who Jived at " the Sign of the Parrot
opposite to Ludgate church, within Black Fryars
Gateway/' says : ic Noble or ignoble, you may be
foretold anything that may happen to your Elementary
Life ; as at what time you may expect prosperity :

428 Ube (Queen's Gomrafce

or if in Adversity the end thereof ; or when you may
be so happy as to enjoy the Thing desired. Also
young men may forsee their fortunes as in a Glass,
and pretty Maids their Husbands in this Noble, yea
Heavenly Art of Astrologie."

A quainter advertisement stated that u In Cripple-
gate Parish, in Whitecross street, almost at the farther
End near Old Street (turning in by the sign of the
Black Croe in Goat Alley, straight forward down
three steps at the sign of the Globe) liveth one of
about thirty years Experience, and hath been Coun-
cillor to Counsellors of several Kingdoms/' This
wise man of the East boasted that he " hath attained
to the Signet Star of the Philosopher. He likewise
hath attained to the Green, Golden, and Black Dragon,
known to none but Magicians and Hermetick Philo-
sophers. He hath a secret in Art far beyond the reach
or knowledge of common Pretenders." But he was
rivalled by " A Person who by his Travels in many
Remote parts of the world has obtained the Art of
Presaging or Foretelling all Remarkable Things that
ever shall happen to Men or Women in the whole
course of their lives, and to the great admiration of
all that ever came to him, and this he does by a
method never yet practised in England."

One of the most popular if most pretentious of
these astrologers was John Partridge, who cast the
horoscope of the Duke of Marlborough, which may
yet be seen in the British Museum. Partridge, who
lived " at the ' Blue Ball/ in Salisbury Street, in the

"Aerlinu* Xiberatus " 429

Strand,'* and who styled himself c< student in physick
and astrology/' began life as a shoemaker's apprentice.
His thirst for knowledge led him to study Latin,
Greek, and Hebrew, which, having mastered, he was
enabled to read works on astrology and medicine in
these languages. Eventually he abandoned the making
of shoes for the study of the stars, in which science
he was instructed by an eminent astrologer, John
Gadbury ; and in 1678 issued a Hebrew calendar.
Two years later he began the regular publications of
his almanack called Merlinus Liber atus. The fulfilment
of many of his predictions brought him much renown,
and he was at the head of his profession when it
occurred to Dean Swift to raise a joke at his expense
and by means of his own calling.

Accordingly, towards the end of 1707, when
Partridge published his annual almanack, another ap-
peared called " Predictions for 1708, written to prevent
the people of England from being further imposed
upon by vulgar almanack makers, by Isaac Bickerstaff,
Esq." The most important statement this contained
was that John Partridge would infallibly die on the
29th of the following March of a raging fever. The
astrologer's ire may well be imagined, not only by this v
impudent publication, but by another which appeared M
on the 30th of March entitled, " The accomplishment
of the first of Mr. Bickerstaff's Predictions, being an
account of the death of Mr. Partridge, the almanack
maker, on the 29th inst." A detailed account was
then given of the astrologer's death, with a report of

430 ITbe (Slueen'0

a full and true account of his confession of imposture.
This publication was eagerly bought, and its statements
were so implicitly believed in that the Company of
Stationers struck Partridge's name from the rolls, and
demanded an injunction against the continued publication
of his almanacks.

In vain the astrologer protested that he was the
victim of a pack of rogues, and advertised that he was
"not only now alive, but was alive upon the 29th of
March in question/' for the public persisted in believing
that BickerstafFs prediction was true, and that some
impostor, for his own ends, was striving to represent
the late John Partridge. For some years he was
unable to issue his almanack, but resumed its pub-
lication in 1714, and continued to predict by the
science of astrology until the following year, when he
died at Mortlake, leaving behind him a sum of two
thousand pounds.

In those days might also be met witches who cast
spells and worked charms, and who were believed to
give life or death to those they favoured or hated ;
one of them being burned at the stake for this unholy
craft in the beginning of Queen Anne's reign. But no
recourse to occult lore was had to heal Prince George,
who in the month of October 1708, lay seriously ill
at Kensington, the air of which suburb was considered
better for his asthma than that of London. With an
unswerving devotion, the Queen attended and waited
on her dying Consort, who, though he possessed little
individuality, capacity, or ambition, had for five and

ITbe Ducfoess again writes to Ube CJueett 431

twenty years been a faithful and placid husband. That
their companionship was now drawing to a close became
plain to all. " Nature was quite worn out in him, and
no art could support him long," wrote Godolphin to
the Duke of Marlborough.

No doubt the same correspondent wrote similar
news to the duchess, then living at St. Albans. Though
her last interview with the Queen had ended in bitterness
and she had absented herself from Court for several
weeks, tidings of the Prince's danger stirred her better
nature, and she immediately wrote to the Queen
expressing concern for Her Majesty's impending
misfortune, and offering her services if they would
be acceptable. But these expressions of loyalty and
tenderness were counterbalanced by censure and com-
plaint, for the opening sentence of her letter began
" Though the last time I had the honour to wait upon
Your Majesty your usage of me was such as was
scarce possible for me to imagine, or for any one to
believe." This note had hardly been finished when
news reached the duchess that the Prince's death was
momentarily expected, when ordering her coach she at
once drove to Kensington Palace, and with characteristic
want of tact, sent her letter to the Queen with a
message to say she awaited Her Majesty's commands.

A moment later she hurriedly swept through the
hushed and serious groups waiting the final moment
in the ante-rooms, and found herself in the death
chamber and in the presence of Her Majesty, who
received her coldly. In an agony of grief Anne was

432 ftbe Queen's Comrade

bending above her husband, whose pitiful gasping for
breath made his ending more painful The duchess
had been in the room but a few minutes when death
brought him relief. What follows is related by her in
her private correspondence.

When the Queen realised that her Consort was no
more, she wept aloud and wrung her hands in an
outburst of misery which none could see unmoved ;
on which the duchess asked all present to leave the
room. When they who had once been dear friends
were alone, the duchess knelt down beside Her Majesty
and strove to console her, but the Queen without
answering continued to cry and wring her hands, for,
sore stricken by her loss, no words had power to
comfort her. When later the violence of her grief
became subdued, the duchess asked Her Majesty if
she would not go to St. James's Palace, but the
Queen replied she would stay where she was.

" That is impossible," said her grace dictatorially,
" what can you do in such a dismal place ? "

Although the Queen persisted in staying, the
duchess continued to persuade her to leave ; for
even at this melancholy moment the dread of a rival
and the pangs of jealousy were not absent from the
consoler's mind.

"I fancied," she wrote, "that her chief difficulty in
removing was for fear she would not have so much of
Mrs. Masham's company as she desired, if she removed
from thence ; and without seeming to think so, I said,
* Nobody in the world ever continued in a place where

H Broken promise 433

a dead husband lay/ and where could she be but within
a room or two of that dismal body ; but if she were
at St. James's, she need not see anybody that was
uneasy to her, and she might see anybody that was
a comfort to her, as well there as anywhere else." As
the Queen's face seemed to express some satisfaction
at this permission, the duchess added that Her Majesty
could leave privately in her grace's coach, and that she
would send away all the company in the ante-chambers
so that they might not see her as she passed. To this
the new-made widow consented, and taking off her
watch said : " Don't come to me before the hand of
my watch comes to this place ; and send to Masham
to come to me before I go."

" This," continues the duchess, " I thought very
shocking, but at the time I was resolved not to say
the least wry word to displease her, and therefore
answered that I would, and went out of the room with
the watch in my hand."

The Queen was then left alone to take a final
farewell of her dead husband, whilst the duchess went
to give the necessary orders. But she did not send
for her rival, as Her Majesty had requested and she
had promised ; for "I thought it so disagreeable for
me to send for Mrs. Masham to go to the Queen
before all that company, that I resolved to avoid that "
she writes. " When the time came I went into the
closet and told the Queen I had not sent for Mrs.
Masham, for I thought it would make a disagreeable
noise when there were bishops and ladies of the bed-

434 Ube Queen's Gomrafce

chamber waiting without, that Her Majesty did not
care to see, and that she might send for Masham
herself to her to come to St. James's at what time
she pleased." To this the pliant Queen agreed,
and left the death chamber leaning on the arm of
the duchess who so far had triumphed over her rival.
But as Her Majesty went through the rooms and
galleries of Kensington Palace from which the courtiers
had been ordered to retire, she called for her hood
which was brought by Mary Hill, Abigail's sister.
As the Queen took it she whispered a few words
which the duchess imagined was a kind message to
Mrs. Masham, who, she says, " had not appeared before
me at Kensington, but upon the alarm of the Queen
being to go with me to St. James's Palace, she came
into the gallery with one of her ministers, the Scotch
doctor Arbuthnot to see Her Majesty pass. Notwith-
standing the Queen's affection for the Prince, at the
sight of that charming lady, as her arm was on mine,
I found she had strength to bend down towards
Mrs. Masham like a sail ; for in passing she went
some steps nearer to her than was necessary. And
when that cruel touch was over, of going by her with
me, she turned about in a little passage room and
gave orders about her dogs and a strong box. When
we came to my coach, she had a very extraordinary
thought as it appeared to me ; she desired me to send
to my lord treasurer and to beg him to take care
and examine whether there was room in some vault
to bury the Prince at Westminster and to leave room

Ube !JBet>cbamber Woman fleb 435

for her too. I suppose it was where her family,
kings and queens had been laid, but in case there was
not room enough for the Prince and her too, she
directed another place for him to be buried in."

With drawn blinds they drove to St. James's Palace,
where news of the Queen's loss had already reached,
and where she was received by her silent and sorrowful
servants, and led to her apartments by the duchess
who gave her a cup of broth, a kindness her grace
did not neglect to mention. She also says, " That
very day he (Prince George) died, she (the Queen)
eat three very large and hearty meals, so that
one would think that as other persons' grief takes
away their appetites, her appetite took away her
grief."

It was whilst Her Majesty was at one of these very
large and hearty meals, that her grace entered the
room to find Abigail actually standing near the Queen
whom she endeavoured to comfort. The bedchamber
woman fled on seeing the duchess ; but her flight
was not taken in the humble manner she had sometimes
affected, says the duchess, " but with an air of insolence
and anger. I attended the Queen upon this affliction
with all the care that was possible to please her, and
never named Mrs. Masham to her. She would make
me sit down, as she had done formerly, and make
some little show of kindness at night when I took
my leave ; but she 'would never speak to me freely
of anything, and I found I could gain no ground.
Not to be wondered at, for I never came to her but

436 ZTbe diueen's Comrade

I found Mrs. Masham just gone out from her, which
at last tired me, and I went to her seldomer."

The Prince died on October 28th, 1708, in his
fifty-fifth year, and was buried in the Stuart vault
near Henry VII. 's Chapel in Westminster Abbey,
on November I3th, the funeral, which was attended
by all the ministers and officers of state, taking place
in the evening by torch light. Notwithstanding the
duchess's hints to the contrary, the Queen was so
overcome by grief for her loss, that according to
Cunningham the historian, " she could scarcely endure
the light." For three months she lived in seclusion
nursing her sorrow, holding no drawing-rooms, and
never venturing abroad. Peter Wentworth, who on
the death of the Duke of Gloucester was appointed
equerry to Her Majesty, in writing to his brother
Lord Raby on January 4th, 1 709, says, " The Queen
now sees company once a week in her bed chamber,
in a chair by the bedside, goes to Chaple every Sunday
and holy day, so that she begins to appear in publick
pretty much." In another letter written a week later
he refers to the addresses sent by both Houses of
Parliament to Her Majesty in which they begged
" she would not indulge her past sorrow so much as
to decline the thoughts of a second marriage "^ in
which " all their hopes of happiness did consist." Her
Majesty's dignified reply to this suggestion was, that
she had taken sedulous care for the Protestant succession,
" a proof of my hearty concern for the happiness of
the nation ; but the subject of the addresses is of that

"Ube Ibasts Wtfcow" 437

nature, that I am persuaded that a more particular
answer is not expected." The town made merry over
the solicitude of Parliament for Her Majesty's second
marriage, and a broad sheet was cried about the streets
called " The Hasty Widow, or the Sooner the Better."
" There was nothing in the paper but a parcel of
proverbs," says Peter Wentworth, " but the impudence
was the title and coming out after the address to the
Queen." In another letter he tells that Her Majesty
has ordered " prayers for her having children to be
put out of the Prayer Book and used no more." The
same gossiping authority writing on April 5th, 1709,
says " All that goe to Court here are in as deep
mourning as ever, which you may observe from a
Gazett which give leave to all persons that has not
admittion to her person to go out of mourning ; even
that's report to have been publish't without the Queen's
perticular order, and 'tis said she has been angry at
it, but I believe that only proceeds from an order
that the Queen gave last friday, that noe lady should
be admitted to come into the Chapel at St. James's
that had any colour'd handkerchiefs or anything of
colours about them, for she said to lord chamberlain
that there was ladys that came into the very face of
her with those colour'd things and she would not
suffer it in her house. Some say the Duchess of
Marlborough's daughters have set the example to these
ladys that have given offence ; and this puts me in
mind of the observation among the ladys, on the
first night the Queen saw company upon her bed,

438 tTbe (Queen's Gomrabe

that the Duchess of Marlborough was the only one
that had powder on her hair, or a patch on her face ; "
a means of showing her disregard for the outward
appearances of sorrow.

The duchess who expresses little sympathy for the
Queen and infers that Her Majesty's sorrow was not
profound, had discovered that soon after the Prince's
death, his widow used to sit in the rooms where he
formerly worked at carpentering, and that were still full
of his tools ; her choice of the apartments being made
— according to her grace — not from any sentimental
motive, but because they communicated with Abigail's
apartments by a back stairs, by which the new favourite
could secretly introduce Harley and such other Tories
as she pleased, to converse and advise with Her Majesty.
The duchess declares herself amazed at the discovery,
" and when I spoke to her of it," she says, meaning
the Queen, " she seemed surprised, just like a person
who on a sudden becomes sensible of her having done
something she would not have done, had she duly
considered."

On the last day of June 1709, the Queen went
to Windsor, but instead of taking up her residence
at the Castle, installed herself in a house near it which
she had purchased before she came to the throne.
That she considered it cooler and more convenient, were
reasons for her selection in which the prejudiced duchess
did not believe, her conviction being that the Sovereign
remained there that she might secretly receive Abigail's
friends and her grace's enemies ; foremost amongst

®ueen rebucefc to Bonfcase 439

whom were Harley, who was ever ready to represent
the growing discontent of the nation at the prolonged
wars which cost England so much blood and money,
and echo the popular cry " that the Queen was reduced
to bondage by a single family, the members of which
monopolised the honours and wealth of the State."

Towards the end of August, Peter Wentworth writes
to his brother : " The Queen sent for the Dutchess from
London to present Bell Davers (on being made a bed-
chamber woman) till when her grace had not been
there since the Queen was at Windsor. The town
talk as if the Dutchess has thoughts of resigning the
Groom of the Stole, and that upon the condition
lady Sunderland shou'd succeed her, but they say
the Duke of Sommersett contess the matter for his
Dutchess wch is what keeps the Dutchess of Marl-
borough from quiting. 'Tis certain the Dutchess has
not nor does not designe to be much at Windsor,
but I believe the talk of her resigning is nothing but
town talk. Her house in the Friary advances pro-
digiously, 'tis now a covering."

Though the duchess absented herself from the Court,
she continued to write long letters of remonstrance
and reproval to her Sovereign. Some account of these
was forwarded to the duke who still continued a
war of which the Queen and her people were growing
more and more tired ; and he, always moderate and
prudent, advised his wife to discontinue a correspondence
which could only lead to a further estrangement.

" I shall say very little to you concerning the Queen's

VOL. II. 8

440 ube Cfcueen's Comrafce

letter which was by no means obliging/* he writes to
the duchess on August I9th; "but if you can't regain
her affections, that matter will continue as it now is.
I would go upon all-four to make it easy between
you ; but for credit, I am satisfied that I have none ;
so that I would willingly not expose myself ; but
meddle as little as possible." A few days later he
ends another letter with an advice which was not
likely to be taken : " Be obliging and kind to all your
friends and avoid entering into cabals," he says ; " and
whatever I have in this world, if that can give you
any satisfaction, you shall always be mistress of, and
have the disposing of that and me."

However, in obedience to his wife, the general wrote
to the Sovereign complaining of her treatment of
the duchess ; on which the much-hectored Queen
replied to him, " You seem to be dissatisfied with
my behaviour to the Duchess of Marlborough. I
do not love complaining, but it is impossible to help
saying on this occasion, I believe nobody was ever
so used by a friend as I have been by her ever since
I came to the Crown. I desire nothing but that
she would leave off teasing and tormenting me, and
behave herself with the decency she ought, both to
her friend and Queen, and this I hope you will make
her do."

But this, neither he nor any one else had power to
do, for the duchess continued to badger Her Majesty
in the same manner, and in October, the month when
the Queen wrote the letter just quoted, her grace

"H Blotttsb Scrawl" 441

hearing that one of the bedchamber women was
dangerously ill, and fearing some friend of the hated
Abigail might be appointed in her place, wrote to
claim the nomination of Her Majesty's servant. The
Queen coldly replied that the duchess need not have
been in such haste, for the bedchamber woman was
pretty well again and she hoped she might live a
long while ; but if she died, due consideration would
be given as to who should fill her place, " and I
believe nobody — nay even yourself if you would judge
impartially — could think it unreasonable that I should
take one in a place so near my person, that were
agreeable to me," writes the Queen.

She continues, " I know this place is reckoned under
your office, but there is no office whatsoever that has
the entire disposal of anything under them, but I may
put in any one I please when I have a mind to it.
And now you mention the Duke of Somerset again,
I cannot help on this occasion saying, that whenever
he recommends anybody to me, he never says it is
his right, but he submits to my determination." The
letter concludes with the sentence, " I am ashamed to
send you such a blottish scrawl, but it is so late that I
cannot stay to write it over again." This communi-
cation is indorsed by a comment of the duchess which
says, " This is a very odd letter, and a very extra-
ordinary thing to make her excuse to me for writing
a very fine hand ; it would have been much more
excusable to have been ashamed of the change in her
style."

442 zibe Queen's Gomrafce

At the Queen's return to town, the duchess waited
on her to demand certain apartments in St. James's
Palace, which would enable her to have a more
commodious entry to her own suite of rooms, and
which she said had been promised her. The Queen,
who intended these lodgings for Abigail's sister,
declared no such promise had been given ; on which
followed one of those altercations now common between
these former friends.

" But supposing that I am mistaken, surely my
request cannot be deemed unreasonable ? " said the
duchess hotly.

" I have a great many servants of my own and
some of them I must remove," replied the Queen
pacifically.

" Your Majesty then does not reckon Lord Marl-
borough or me among your servants ? queried the
duchess, eager for the fray. Embarrassed by the
question Her Majesty murmured an inaudible reply,
on which the duchess went on, ct Some of my friends
having pressed me to wait oftener upon your majesty,
I have been compelled in vindication of my conduct,
to relate the usage which I have received from your
majesty ; and for this reason I have been under the
necessity of repeating and asserting the truth of what
I said, before they could be induced to believe it ;
and I believe it would be thought still more strange,
were I to repeat this conversation and inform them,
that after all Lord Marlborough's services, your
majesty refused to give him a miserable hole to

H Storm of Hnger 443

make a clear entry to his lodgings ; I beg therefore
to know whether I am at liberty to repeat this to
any of my friends." The Queen replied in the
affirmative ; on which the duchess hoping that her
Sovereign would reflect on all that had passed, flounced
from the royal presence.

A few days later and she sought the Queen once
more, this time with a fresh grievance that filled her
with indignation, for news had reached her that a
friend of Abigail's named Mrs. Abrahal, a royal
laundress, had on falling ill been allowed a bottle
of wine a day and had her wages raised. It would
seem incredible that this should rouse a storm of
anger in the duchess's mind, but for the motive she
assigns to the Queen's benevolence. " The secret
of the matter was," she writes, "that this woman
had served Mrs. Masham when she lay in, and
could not attend the Queen herself, to carry messages
to her majesty." The Sovereign must therefore be
called to account for rewarding such a person.

As the duchess in her late interviews with Her
Majesty had become so excited as to allow her loud-
voiced arguments to be heard in the ante-rooms,
the Queen dreaded her visits. On this particular
occasion Lord Dartmouth was told by Mrs. Danvers,
who was in waiting on the Queen, that the duchess
reproached the Sovereign u for above an hour with
her own and her family services, in so loud and
shrill a voice that the footmen at the bottom of the
back stairs could hear her ; and all this storm was

444 ITbe CJueen's Comrabe

raised for the Queen's having ordered a bottle of
wine a day to be allowed her laundress, without having
acquainted her grace with it. The Queen seeing her
so outrageous got up to have gone out of the room ;
the duchess clapped her back against the door, and
told her she should hear her out, for that was the
least favour she could do her, for having set and kept
the crown upon her head. As soon as she had done
raging she flounced out of the room and said she
did not care if she never saw her more ; to which
the Queen replied very calmly, that she thought the
seldomer the better."

A result of this violent interview was a letter
from Her Majesty to the duchess, dated October 26th,
1709, in which she said, "It is impossible for you
to recover my former kindness, but I shall behave
myself to you as the Duke of Marlborough's wife,
and as my Groom of the Stole."

On receiving this the duchess sat down to her
desk, to draw up a long narrative of the beginning
and progress of their friendship, of the favour
with which she had been honoured, and the good
use she had made of it, and of her losing it
through the wicked artifices of her enemies, " particu-
larly of one whom I had raised out of the dust ";
for like those of her temperament she could not
see that her own blamable conduct was the cause
of her loss. The account was interlarded by extracts
regarding the duties of friendship from Bishop Taylor's
" The Whole Duty of Man," and with directions

dfoalplaquet 445

concerning reconciliation before receiving the Sacrament,
from the Book of Common Prayer. With this narra-
tive a letter was written and sent to the Queen in
which the duchess said, " I will never so much as
presume as long as I live to name my cousin Abigail,
if you will be pleased to write me word in a very
short letter that you have read this history, which
is as short as I could make it, and that you continue
still of the same opinion you were as to all your unjust
usage of me. You will know all I have writ is exactly
the truth, and I must desire that you will be pleased
to do this before you receive the Holy Sacrament."

The admonished Queen replied that when she had
time she would read all the papers and send an answer ;
but apparently she never found leisure to devote to
them, for no reply was ever made. But soon after
when she was about to receive the Sacrament in
St. James's Chapel, " she looked with much good nature
and very graciously smiled upon me," says the duchess,
who adds, "But the smile and pleasant look I had
reason afterwards to think, were given to Bishop
Taylor and the common prayer book and not to me."

In the winter of 1709 the Duke of Maryborough
was back in England, having in the September of that
year won the victory of Malplaquet, which cost the
lives of twenty thousand Englishmen. Though a
solemn thanksgiving was returned at St. Paul's for
this event, the duke could not help seeing that this
long and tedious war, continued at great expense and
severe loss of life, and of little advantage to England,

446 zrbe (Slueen's Comrafce

was becoming more and more unpopular, and that he
himself was losing public favour ; on which he desired
to strengthen his position and increase his power. He
therefore asked the Queen to make him Captain-
General for life, adding that the war would probably
continue during their time. Her Majesty, who had
been hoping for peace, was alarmed by this request,
and took refuge from a positive refusal by saying she
would require time to consider the matter.

Unwilling to grant the great general a power which
his enemies said would have made him another
Cromwell, and anxious to avoid offending a man
already possessed of so much influence, Her Majesty
hit on a happy plan of shifting the onus of a personal
refusal to the shoulders of others. Accordingly when
the Lord Chancellor Cowper next waited on her, she
quietly asked him, " In what words would you draw
a commission which is to render the Duke of Marl-
borough captain-general of my armies for life ? "

Lord Cowper was instantly alarmed lest the Queen
had already given a promise which would hand the
nation over to a military dictator ; and on his express-
ing himself warmly on the subject, she bade him
" talk to the Duke of Marlborough about it." This
the chancellor did without delay, when he assured the
general " he would never put the great seal of
England to any such commission." The Queen,
always timid, now dreaded the effect of her refusal
to the duke's request ; when to support and soothe
her, Harley secretly summoned such peers as were

2>eatb of tbe Earl of JEsses 447

known to resent and oppose the Marlborough influence ;
and on the question being raised as to what action
should be taken if the general resented the Queen's
decision, the Duke of Argyle promptly replied, " Her
Majesty need not be in pain, for he would undertake,
if ever she commanded him, to seize the Duke of
Marlborough at the head of his troops, and bring him
before her dead or alive."

There was no need however to put this fiery threat
into execution ; for the duke merely showed his
disappointment by writing an imprudent and querulous
letter to the Queen, in which, says Coxe his biographer,
he not only reproached Her Majesty for this instance
of disregard to his services, but even complained bitterly
of her estrangement from the duchess and the trans-
ference of her attachment to Mrs. Masham, and
announced his determination to retire at the end of
the war.

A fresh course of friction soon afterwards sprang up
between Her Majesty and the duke, when on the
death of the Earl of Essex, in January 1710, the Queen
desired that his post as colonel of his regiment might
be given to Jack Hill, <c a man," says the Duchess of
Marlborough, " who had been basely ungrateful to me
who raised him ; and whose sister Mrs. Masham, the
duke well knew was at this time undermining the
interest of himself, his family, and friends." The
Marlboroughs believed that the proposed promotion of
Abigail's brother was intended as a mortification to
themselves ; and that Her Majesty's request would

448 ftbe Queen's Comrabe

place the duke in a constrained position ; for if he
agreed, dissatisfaction must arise amongst his officers at
having a younger and less experienced man appointed
above their heads ; whilst if he refused the old outcry
would be raised that the Queen was a mere cypher, a
slave to the Marlborough family.

After some consideration the duke waited on Her
Majesty to represent how prejudicial it would be to her
services to have so young an officer preferred above
others of higher rank and longer service, besides
showing the world the extraordinary favour she felt for
Mrs. Masham's brother ; but the only answer he
received was that he would do well to advise with his
friends." Lord Godolphin then tried his powers of
persuasion on the Sovereign, but without better effect.

A Council was held on the I5th of January, from
which the duke absented himself, a fact that failed to
draw the slightest comment from the Queen, who was
probably aware that he had gone to the great lodge at
Windsor in discontent. The duchess says the news of
his withdrawal made a noise in town, and many spoke
to Her Majesty of the ill consequences of mortifying a
man who had done her such important services, to which
she answered they were fresh in her memory and she
had as much kindness for him as ever. From Windsor
the duke wrote to her asking her to reflect on what
the world must think " who have been witnesses of the
love, zeal, and duty, with which I have served yoa,
when they shall see that after all I have done, it has not
been able so protect me against the malice of a bed-

TTbe Bufee threatens to retire 449

chamber woman. Your Majesty will allow me on this
occasion to remind you of what I writ to you the last
campaign, of the certain knowledge I had of Mrs.
Masham's having assured Mr. Harley, that I should
receive such constant mortifications, as should make
it impossible for me to continue in your service.'*
He concluded by saying that " the many instances
I have had of Your Majesty's great change to
me, has so broke my spirits, that I must beg as the
greatest and last favour, that you will approve of my
retiring, so that I may employ the little time I have to
live, in making my first acknowledgments to God, for
the protection he has been pleased to give me."

His threat to retire had been so frequently made that
it failed to alarm the Queen ; and by this time it was
no doubt plain to her, that as his own and his wife's
salaries amounted to about ninety thousand a year, it
was unlikely that they who valued money so greatly,
would resign posts for which they were so handsomely
paid. However in answer to the duke's letter she
wrote saying he had no grounds for his suspicions of
her unkindness, and desiring him to return to town.
At the same time she bade Lord Godolphin tell him he
might dispose as he pleased of the post made vacant by
Lord Essex's death.

CHAPTER V

Ministers consult about a Bedchamber Woman — The
Queen dreads the Loss of Abigail — Her Secret
Petition to Her Tory Friends— What Peter
Wentworth has to say — Common Discourse of
the Town — Her Majesty slighted by the Duchess
of Marlborough — Her Words repeated and
exaggerated to the Queen — Desires to wait on
the Sovereign — Her Majesty's Dread of an Inter-
view— The Duchess hurries to Kensington Palace
— Is admitted to the Royal Presence — Interview
and Conversation with the Queen — their Final
Parting — Insolent Letter from Her Grace — The
Queen determines to dismiss Lord Sunderland —
The Duke and Duchess beg Her to retain Him —
Her Majesty's Reproach to the Duchess — Who
forwards Her Some Private Letters — The Queen's
Brief Reply — Lord Dartmouth receives the Seals
of Office— His One Great Defect— Lord Godolphin
sends William Penn with a Message to the New
Secretary of State.

CHAPTER V

THE Duke of Marlborough on returning to town
was received with friendliness by the Queen ;
but a few days later Her Majesty was alarmed by a
report that <c the victorious army commanded by the
Duke of Marlborough was getting up a petition in
order to place him in a life-long command," and that
her Whig Ministers were about to move an address
in Parliament for the removal of Abigail from her
service.

Whatever doubt there may have been regarding the
first part of this rumour, there was none concerning
the latter ; for however extraordinary it may appear,
it was certainly true that the great Ministers of State
met privately and held grave councils regarding a bed-
chamber woman. Amongst them all, Lord Sunderland
distinguished himself by his advocacy of violent
measures ; whilst true to his character, the Duke of
Marlborough urged moderation, and declared it would
be unconstitutional to force the Queen to abandon
her favourite.

Her Majesty's dread lest Abigail should be taken

453

454 TTbe (SSlueen's Gomrafce

from her, drove her to consult her Ministers' oppo-
nents, when separately and with secrecy the Tory
peers, and Jacobites who had been averse to the
Revolution, were brought to her. In his History of
Great Britain Cunningham says that the Queen begged
" that they would be mindful of their duty to her,
and neither to agree to any petition from the army
which the Duke of Marlborough should present to
Parliament, nor suffer Mrs. Masham to be taken
from her." And, in parting from each, she earnestly
said, " If ever any recommendation of mine was of
weight with you, as I know many of them have been,
I desire this may be especially regarded/'

Though these conferences were private, news of
their object soon spread abroad, when the Duke of
Marlborough waited on Her Majesty " to clear himself
from the calumnies of his enemies," and assure her he
was unaware the Army had any intention of petitioning
Parliament to make him Captain-General for life. The
invaluable correspondence of Peter Wentworth reflects
the gossip of the town on these movements of the
Court. Writing to his brother on January 24th, 1710,
he says —

" Upon the Duke's coming to town his friends
report all is well and right again, but others talk as
if there was great matters in agitation such as the
Queen can never consent to. 'Tis certain there's a
great Hurly burly at Court, but the particular acca-
tions 'tis impossible for me to learn, at least not saft
for me to writ, however I'll venture to tell you what

"Jt Ubfngs sbou'fc come to JEjtremftss " 455

common report says, vis, that Ld. M insists upon

his being sole General during the Queen's and his
joint lives, and the Dutchess of Ormond, Lady
Fretcheville, lady Hide, Coll Masham, and Mrs.
Masham together with their brother and sister be
immediately remov'd from Court. This they say has
not a little alarmed the Queen, who is said to be so
much astonished at it that she has frequent consulta-
tions with the Contrary party what to do in so nice
a conjuncture, and that the General officers has been
sounded by both Sides to discover what they wou'd
do if things shou'd come to extremitys.

" If these things comes to be more common dis-
course, I'll venture to writ more at large. It has
been talk't as if yesterday was to have been the day
to have mov'd for an address in the House of
Commons to the Queen, to have had Mrs. Masham
removed from Court, and all this sessions they say
the House of Commons was never fuller, so 'twas
not thought a proper time to move what they were
not sure of carrying. . . . Whether the party adverse
to Mrs. Masham had any such designe, I can't say,
but this am asure of that the Queen gave the Vice
Chamberlain Cook orders to tell all her friends in
the House of Commons, that is to say all that had
any dependant, that any such address wou'd be very
disagreeable to her.

" The Court is still in deep mourning " adds this
gossip "wearing Coffs upon their coats sleeves, wch
will be till Lady day, and no Arms upon the Coaches ;

VOL. II. 9

ftbe (SlueetVB Comtabe

the rule for the morning of this year is to be as for
a Father. Long pockets for the summer were liked
to have obtained being an universal fashion, but this
Winter its totally out again, and theres no but young
fellows in the Army and the Smarts of them that wears
those coats with bottons up the arms."

Writing three days later the same correspondent
says, he hears the duke is all submission to Her
Majesty's pleasure, but he " cou'd not forbear telling
her he had a fresh instance of his enemies imposing
falsities upon her for truths against him, such was
their making her believe he or any of his friends
had made any interest among the members of the
House of Commons to Adress her majesty for the
removal of Mrs. Masham, wch he protested as he
was an honest man he never thought of, and if her
Majesty wou'd be pleased to tell him who informed
her so, if he did not convict them of untruth, he
wou'd be content to be banisht her favour for ever,
and begged hard that that might be made a test,
who was to be believed, he or them. He said she
knew he had mov'd it to her majesty, as what he
thought wou'd be for her service and for the ease
of her Ministry, but it never entered into his thoughts
to stir up the Parliament to prescrib to her what
servants she shou'd keep about her person. . . .

" 'Tis said the Queen has been so provok'd as to
declare to more than one, she has been so slighted
by the Dutchess of Maryborough, that she can't indure
the sight of her. ... I am told that the Queen has

Courtiers neglect ZTbe Bucbess 457

said to the Duke that the nation wanted a Peace, and
that it behoved him to make no delays in't."

This remark was probably made to the duke when
he went to take leave of Her Majesty before going
to conduct the war abroad. At this final interview
he begged that she " would permit his wife to remain
in the country as much as possible, and that she would
be pleased to accept of her resignation in favour of
her daughters, when the peace was made." The Queen
readily granted the first part of his request, and the
duchess assuming that the second was also agreed to,
waited on the Queen to return thanks for the advance-
ment of her daughters ; but Anne received her with
sullen glances and such coldness of manner as would
have awed another courtier. The duchess however
asked if the duke had mistaken Her Majesty's
meaning, when the reply was given her " I desire that
I may never more be troubled on the subject."

The courtiers, quick to notice the setting of one
favourite and the rising of another, now began to
neglect the duchess and to follow Mrs. Masham,
much to the mortification of the one and the triumph
of the other. " Mrs. Masham is now visited in
crowds by Whigs and Tories, some of whom I have
heard wish her damn " writes Peter Wentworth in
September 1710. " For my part I hadn't the courage
to go with the crowd yet, because I know she reckons
me in the number of those that rail'd at her, tho'
I never did."

Though the Duchess of Marlborough was unwilling

458 ZTbe (Sheen's Comrade

to resign her profitable places at Court, she withdrew
from town and was at this time occupied in guarding
the interests of the Whig ministers, in quarrelling with
Sir John Vanbrugh about the building of Blenheim, or in
ordering brocades and velvets from patterns sent her by
Lord Manchester, English Ambassador at Venice, with
which to furnish the palace or Marlborough House.

But in the midst of such business, news reached
her that reports of angry and indiscreet words she
had used regarding the Queen, had been repeated
and exaggerated to the royal ear. Evidence remains
that her violent temper and rash tongue led her to
speak contemptuously of the Queen ; Lord Dartmouth
amongst others saying that " she used to entertain her
confidents with telling them what a praying godly
idiot the Queen was " ; and he adds that her grace
was wise enough to think they would keep such a
secret for her ; but Lady Fitzharding, " who could not
keep her secret in King William's time, was as little
disposed to do it in Queen Anne's."

But as a story never loses anything by being repeated,
especially by a courtier, it was probable that the
duchess's abuse of her sovereign was magnified. As
an example of this her grace says it was stated, that
when she and the Duchess of Somerset were about
to stand sponsors for an infant to whom the name
of the Sovereign was to be given, she — the Duchess
of Marlborough — had said, " There never was any one
good for much, of that name ; I will not stand for
the babe if she is called Anne."

"Call ffoer (Beetle " 459

What really happened was explained by the duchess
in the following words : " At the christening of the
child of Mrs. Meredith, I was pressed very much
to give the name, which properly it was the place
of the Duchess of Somerset to do ; at last to end
the dispute, it was agreed by all that the child should
have the Queen's name. After this had been settled,
I turned to the Duchess of Somerset and said to
her in a smiling way, ' That as the Duke of Hamilton
had made a boy a girl and christened it Anne after
the royal godmother, why should we not make this
girl a boy and call her George ? ' The Duchess of
Somerset laughed at it, as I dare say the Queen
herself would have done if she had been present.
But this was represented to the Queen in as different
and false a way as possible, as I heard afterwards
from very good hands."

At news of these misrepresentations the impetuous
duchess immediately resolved to return to town, intrude
on the Queen, and vindicate herself from such charges.
Her Majesty, however, fearing a repetition of those
turbulent scenes which had marked their recent inter-
views, failed to show an equal eagerness to see the
duchess, who then wrote to request that her Sovereign
would give her half an hour's audience before she
retired into the country. To this came a royal reply
asking her to put what she had to say into writing.
The duchess was unwilling to comply with this request,
for she hoped that a personal appeal and explanation
would have a better effect with Her Majesty ; therefore

460 Ube Queen's Gomrafce

she answered that her communication <c was of a nature
that rendered writing it impossible," and named three
several hours, during which she knew the Queen was
usually alone, as suitable for their meeting. Her
Majesty, however, coldly refused to see her at such
times, but appointed six o'clock the next afternoon for
the visit ; that being, as the duchess remarked, " the
hour of prayers, when she could least of all expect to
be at leisure for any particular conversation."

Before the appointment could be kept the Queen
wrote once more to the duchess, desiring her, as the
latter says, " to lay before her in writing whatever I
had to say, and to gratify myself in going into the
country as soon as I could." These repeated refusals
must have sorely tried the proud spirit of one accustomed
to receive implicit obedience from her royal mistress.
They also strengthened her determination to gain her
wishes at all cost of dignity. Accordingly she wrote
again urging that an hour's leisure might be given her,
and stating '" that when her majesty should hear what
I had to say, she would herself perceive it impossible to
put things of that nature into writing ; that I was now
going out of town for a great while, and perhaps
should never have occasion to give her a like trouble as
long as I lived.

" The Queen refused it several times in a manner
hard to be described, but at last appointed the next day
after dinner. Yet upon further consideration it was
thought advisable to break this appointment ; for the
next morning she wrote to me to let me know that she

"tto scratcb at tbe (Queen's Boot" 461

should dine at Kensington, and that she once more
desired me to put my thoughts into writing. "

The duchess at last seems to have grasped the reason
of the Queen's refusal to see her ; for in her next letter,
after having begged leave to follow Anne to Kensington,
" I assured her majesty that what I had to say would
not create any dispute or uneasiness (it relating only
to the clearing myself from some things which I had
heard had very wrongfully been laid to my charge) and
would have no consequence, either in obliging her
majesty to answer, or to see me oftener than would be
easy to her ; adding that if that afternoon were not
convenient, I would come every day and wait, till Her
Majesty would please to allow me to speak to her."

Without waiting for a reply which she feared would
contain a refusal, the duchess hurried to Kensington
Palace determined on seeing the Queen. Details of
what followed are given by her grace in the Account
of her Conduct ; in a letter addressed by her to Mr.
Hutchinson ; and in some MS. pages amongst the Coxe
papers in the British Museum, from which the following
is compiled.

On reaching the Palace the duchess found the Queen
had just dined, the royal dinner-hour being about two
o'clock ; and as there was no one in waiting to announce
her, she asked the page of the back stairs if it was not
customary for him " to scratch at the Queen's door
when anybody came to see her ? " When he had
answered in the affirmative, she desired he would give
the customary scratch and ask whether Her Majesty

462 TOC (SlueetVs Comrafce

would please to see her then, or whether she should
come some other time.

The page stayed longer than was usual ; long enough
she thought to give time for deliberation as to whether
she should be received or not, and to settle "the
measures of behaviour," if that favour were granted.
Meanwhile she who had been accustomed to gain
admittance to Her Majesty at all hours, awaited the
reply with impatience, seating herself on a window-
ledge " like a Scotch lady waiting for an answer to
a petition."

At last the page returned to say the Queen would
receive her. As she entered the royal presence she saw
that Her Majesty, who was alone, was seated at her
desk. Showing some embarrassment, probably due to
fear, she said to her visitor : " I was going to write
to you."

" Upon what, Madam ? " promptly queried the
duchess.

" I did not open your letter till just now, and I was
going to write to you," remarked Her Majesty who
was given to repetition.

" Was there anything in it, Madam, that you would
have a mind to answer ? " her grace asked.

" I think there is nothing you can have to say but
you may write it," replied the Queen coldly.

" Won't Your Majesty give me leave to tell it you ? "

<c Whatever you have to say you may write it," said
the Sovereign.

" I believe," answered the duchess, checking her

"flMit it into Mrftfna" 463

indignation, " Your Majesty never did so hard a thing
to anybody as to refuse to hear them speak — even the
meanest person that ever desired it."

" Yes, I do bid people put what they have to say
in writing, when 1 have a mind to it," came the royal
response.

" I have nothing to say, Madam, upon the
subject that is so uneasy to you : that person (Mrs.
Masham) is not that I know of, at all concerned in
the account that I would give you which I can't be
quiet till I have told you," the duchess said.

" You may put it into writing," repeated the
Queen.

But the duchess, unwilling to lose this long-sought
and hardly gained opportunity of speaking her mind,
hurried to say there were those about Her Majesty
who charged her with uttering things of which she
was no more capable than of killing her own children ;
that she seldom mentioned Her Majesty's name in
company, and never without respect ; on hearing which
the Queen contemptuously turned aside and said,
" There are many lies told."

In order to make her interview the shorter, and
her innocence the more apparent, her grace requested
that the Queen " would be pleased to let her know
if anybody had told her anything of her of that
nature, that she might then take an opportunity of
clearing herself, or begging Her Majesty's pardon,"
on which Anne, referring to an expression in the
duchess's letter, that she did not wish for a reply,

464 Ube Queen's Gomrafce

remarked, " You said you required no answer and I
will give you none.'*

The duchess persisted and assured her Sovereign it
was but reasonable to enforce her just request, adding
that she would not ask the names of the authors of
the calumnies spoken against her ; but the only reply
she received was, " You desired no answer and you
shall have none," words which were repeated over
and over again. " It is probable/' comments the
duchess, " that this conversation had never been
consented to, but that Her Majesty had been care-
fully provided with those words as a shield to defend
her against every reason I could offer."

They could not, however, act as a shield against
the duchess's persistence, for striving to suppress her
fury, she went on to say she was confident Her Majesty
would not treat her with such harshness if she believed
her only desire was to do herself justice and not ask
a favour ; on which, foreseeing a storm which her timid
nature feared, the Queen moved towards the door
exclaiming, " I will quit the room."

" When she came to the door," says the duchess,
" I fell into great disorder ; streams of tears flowed
down against my will and prevented my speaking for
some time. At length I recovered myself and appealed
to the Queen in the vehemance of my concern." The
appeal was a repetition of what the duchess had already
said so many times in writing and by word of mouth ;
her former friendship for Her Majesty, the faithfulness
with which she had served her, the zeal shown for

"Ubat is /!&£ Business" 465

her service and security, her unflinching candour, the
whole winding up by another request to know what
was laid to her charge ; in answer to which came the
same reply, " You desired no answer and you shall
have none."

" Will Your Majesty then make me some answer
at any other time ? " enquired the duchess, boiling
with scarce suppressed rage. But once more came the
reply, " You desired no answer and you shall have
none " ; on which the duchess, flaming with anger,
and no longer able to control herself, said, " I am
confident you will suffer in this world or the next
for so much inhumanity." To this the Queen calmly
replied, " That is my business.'* The duchess then
hurried from the royal presence and sat in the long
gallery where she remained some time whilst her
passion cooled and her tears were dried. Then with
the wonderful insistence that marked this indomitable
woman, she returned to the room she had just quitted
and " scratched at the door." It was opened by Her
Majesty and they stood face to face, anger and indigna-
nation in the eyes where friendship and trust had once
shone. After a second's hesitation, the duchess began,
" As I sat in the gallery I thought Your Majesty would
not be easy to see me when you come to the Castle at
Windsor, whither I understand you are shortly to
remove. Should that be the case, I will refrain from
going to the Lodge, that I may not be charged with
a want of respect for omitting to pay my duty to
Your Majesty when so near." To this speech, which

466 Tibe CJueen's Comrafce

the Queen was unwilling to accept as conciliatory,
she answered " You may if you please come to me
at the castle ; it will give me no uneasiness."

From this remark the duchess inferred that the
Queen would not refuse to see her in public, but that
she would not endure the trial of another private
interview. The duchess then departed, and these two,
once the closest and dearest of friends, met in this
world no more.

Her grace, however, was not aware that this
interview, which took place on Good Friday, April 6th,
1710, was to be their last : for on the following day
she wrote to the Queen asking permission to wait
on her concerning " a matter of life or death." Her
Majesty's curiosity to learn what this might be, was
not so great as her fear of another meeting, which
she immediatly wrote to decline. The duchess then
sent her a letter written by the duke, giving an account
of a man then on his way to London who " had been
guilty of many vile practices at Vienna, and was a
very great villain," and whom the duke desired might
not be admitted to see the Queen, but be sent out
of England immediately.

In forwarding this communication the duchess
eagerly seized the opportunity of haranguing her
Sovereign. Her own letter enclosing her husband's,
neither contains the slightest apology for her parting
words, nor regret for the result of her visit, but
expresses an insolence that is astonishing even in
coming from her. The original letter, which may be

"IReep HJour Gbaracter from falling" 467

found in the Coxe MSS. in the British Museum, runs
as follows.

" There was something very unusual in the manner
of the last conversation I had with your majesty," it
begins, " in your declaring you would give no answer
to whatsoever I said ; and in the disorder that appeared
by your turning from the candle when you thought I
was going to mention something that you did not care
to hear of, that I can't but think you are ashamed of
the company you generally have, and sensible of the
ill consequences of having such a favourite, and of the
reflections that are made all over the town upon it,
since 'tis certain that nothing your majesty ever does,
can be a secret ; if then there can be a pleasure in
anything one is ashamed to own (for which I have no
taste) I am sure you will pay very dear for it. I
never yet heard of any prince that kept little company
that was not of course unfortunate. . . .

" What I now say, is for no private interest, nor
with any particular regard to myself; I only wish you
would choose such people to converse with, as would
keep your character from falling in the opinion of your
subjects ; and besides the interest you would have in
it, you would find it much more easy to pass your
time in such a way as to have no need of any
disguise.

"I beg you Madam for your own sake, to think
what the world must say, upon your showing that your
real confidence and kindness is gone from those that
have done you much true service (and that have so

468 ube (Queen's Comrafce

much respect paid them at home and abroad) to
Mrs. Masham, her sister, and a Scotch doctor, and
others one is ashamed to name ; and in short to
anybody that will make court to her (Abigail) who
must always be contemptible wretches, since they can
condescend to such lowness in order to compass their
ends with your majesty."

This letter, which was forwarded to the Queen who
had returned to town, was answered from Kensington
Palace in a single sentence. " I received yours with one
enclosed from the D of M," the Sovereign wrote, " just
as I was coming downstairs from St. James's, so could
not return the enclosed back, till I came to this place."

By this time Her Majesty had determined to rid
herself of a faction that virtually exercised all the
powers of monarchy, and in whose hands she had been
from the beginning of her reign but a mere puppet.
For the Duke of Marlborough represented his Sovereign
abroad and swayed the councils of the Continental
states ; his duchess dominated the Court ; whilst their
friend and connection, Lord Godolphin, with the aid
of his Whig ministers, managed the Parliament. And
all three had controlled her actions, and forced into her
councils men whose principles and manners were alike
objectionable to her.

Aided by friends, amongst whom were the Dukes
of Somerset and Shrewsbury, her maternal uncle Lord
Rochester, and her adviser Robert Harley, the Queen
now considered herself strong enough to break a
connection which had become a bondage.

ZTo 1Remo\>e Hbigail 469

Her first important step in this direction was to
dismiss from his office of Secretary of State, the Duke
of Marlborough's son-in-law Lord Sunderland ; a man
whose Republican tendencies had been distasteful to
her, whose behaviour to his Sovereign had bordered on
insolence, whose efforts to introduce into Parliament
an address to remove Abigail from her service, she had
not forgotten, and whose violent temper and aggressive
manner had frequently offended his own colleagues.

Rumour of this intention brought the bitterest
mortification to the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough.
" If I were to make the choice," writes the former,
" I would much rather be turned out, than Lord
Sunderland should be removed ; so that I hope all
my friends will struggle with all their might and
power ; for if this point be carried, there is nothing
disagreeable and ruinous but must be expected." And
in another letter addressed to the Duke of Shrewsbury,
who he hoped would persuade the Queen to keep
the Secretary in his place, the duke says : " 'Tis not
his relationship to me and the kindness I have for him,
that concerns me so much as the effect it may have on
the Queen's service and the public ; for as such a step
will generally be thought to be aimed at, and must of
course reflect upon me, it will in a great measure render
me incapable of being useful to her majesty's affairs
either at home or abroad."

Instructed by the Duchess, Lord Godolphin hastened
to the Sovereign to represent the ill effects her deter-
mination would have on the great General " when the

470 Ube (Queen's Comrade

fate of all Europe depends upon his being encouraged and
heartened," to which she calmly replied, " the Duke of
Marlborough is too reasonable to suffer a thing of this
kind to do so much prejudice to himself and to the
whole world, by taking it to heart ; and surely nobody
knows better than the Duke and yourself, the repeated
provocations which I have received from Lord
Sunderland."

As may be imagined, the duchess was not idle mean-
while, for a furious letter addressed to the Queen was
sent by her grace to the duke, with orders to copy,
sign, and forward it immediately to Her Majesty. This
violent epistle found its way into the fire, and a more
temperate letter was written instead, which said, " I did
flatter myself no body could have prevailed with you to
carry your resentment so far against him in my absence,
as is mentioned in your letters, and to give me so great
a mortification in the face of all Europe at a time when
I was so zealously endeavouring to serve you at the
hazard both of my reputation and of my blood ; but
tho' any consideration of me were wholly out of the
case, I should hope for your own sake you would
suspend any further resentment in this one matter, till
I have the honour to see you, and opportunity of
thoroughly examining and reasoning upon it with your
majesty."

Such a communication as this must have seemed poor
and weak to the fiery duchess, who unable to restrain
herself any longer, wrote the Queen a letter described
by Coxe as <c a long and acrimonious remonstrance."

"H Iflers Sfoort Answer " 471

This once more referred to her own truth and
honesty, her husband's zeal and merits, the affection
formerly shown by Her Majesty to both, the ill usage
she had recently given them ; and then spoke of the
mortification Lord Sunderland's removal would be to
the duke. From this she proceeded to dwell in
insulting language on Abigail, whom she considered the
sole cause of her own loss of favour, and threatened the
Queen that a fresh movement would be made by parlia-
ment to remove so objectionable a person from her
service. She next gave her frank opinion of the Duke
and Duchess of Somerset, once her friends but now, as
she considered, her enemies; and to show the opinion once
held of the Queen by his grace, who at this time enjoyed
the royal favour, she enclosed a confidential letter he
had written her, in which he referred with little ceremony
to Her Majesty. She likewise sent the Queen several
letters the latter had addressed to her years previously,
expressing an ardent affection which was contrasted
with the coldness now shown her, and requested that
they might be returned.

Her Majesty in reply, briefly reproached the
duchess for breaking her solemn promise of never
speaking to her again of politics or of Mrs. Masham.
" But I shall trouble you with a very short answer," said
the Queen, " looking upon it to be a continuation of the
ill-usage I have so often met with, which shows me very
plainly what I am to expect in the future." As to the
Duke of Somerset's confidential letter, and her own
affectionate correspondence which the duchess had the

VOL. II. 10

472 Ube Queen's Comrade

bad faith and insolence to send, the Queen merely
remarked in a postscript : " I do not return the letters,
knowing they can be of no use to you ; but must desire
all my strange scrawls may be sent back to me, it being
impossible they can now be agreeable to you."

On receiving this note the duchess rushed once more
to her desk, to tell Her Majesty she thought herself
justified in breaking her promise not to refer to politics
or to Abigail, because the Queen had not read the long
lecture she had sent her the previous October, and given
her a precise answer ; she next referred to the dreadful
account Abigail might be called on to render to the
nation, for the advice she had given, which threatened
to ruin a man who had won six pitched battles and ten
sieges, and then continued, " I hasten to the latter part
of your letter in which you desire that all the letters I
have of yours, may be sent back, and give the reason
for it, because 'tis impossible they can now be agreeable
to me ; but though your majesty takes care to make
them less pleasure to me than I once thought they
would have been, I cannot yet find it in my heart
to part with one. And though I cannot dispute your
keeping your own letter that I sent you, I can the more
easily spare it, because I have drawers full of the same
in every place wherever I have lived. Yet I much
wondered at your majesty's keeping the Duke of
Somerset's, which I only sent to show what he once
thought of the Duke of Marlborough's services ; 'tis
not surely usual to detain another body's letters."

Finally came an appeal regarding Lord Sunderland.

OLorfc Suttoerlanfc fctemis^ 473

" My concern for Lord Marlborough's honour and
reputation in the world," she wrote, " and the great
trouble he expresses on this occasion, brings me to
beg your majesty upon my knees, that you would
only defer this thing till there is peace, or an end of
the campaign ; and after such an expression your
majesty can have no doubt of my ever entering into
anything that can displease you."

The Queen took no notice of this letter, with which,
all direct correspondence ceased between them.

Her Majesty was still resolute in her desire to rid
herself of Lord Sunderland, and on June ijth, 1710,
wrote to Lord Godolphin, " It is true indeed that
the turning a son-in-law out of his office may be a
mortification to the Duke of Marlborough ; but must
the fate of Europe depend on that, and must he be
gratified in all his desires, and I not in so reasonable
a thing as parting with a man whom I took into my
service with all the uneasiness imaginable, whose be-
haviour to me has been so (objectionable) ever since,
and who I must add, is I believe, obnoxious to all
people except a few. I think the Duke of Marl-
borough's pressing so earnestly that I should delay
my intentions is using me very hardly ; and I hope
both he and you, when you have considered this matter
more calmly and impartially, will not wonder that I
do not comply with his desires." Two days later
Lord Sunderland was dismissed. On the Queen
offering him a pension to soothe his disappointment
he declined it, saying, that "if he could not have

474 Ube Queen's Gomrafce

the honour to serve his country, he would not plunder
it."

No sooner was Lord Sunderland dismissed, than
Lord Dartmouth was appointed in his place as Secretary
of State. Swift describes the latter as a man of letters,
full of good sense, good nature, and honour, of strict
virtue and regularity of life ; adding that he " laboured
under one great defect — that he treats his clerks with
more civility and good manners, than others in his
station have done the Queen." And no sooner had
the seals of office been given him, than Lord Godolphin
sent the Quaker, William Penn, to assure him nobody
approved better of the appointment than he did,
"though it was not decent in regard to Lord
Sunderland, to make public demonstrations of any
satisfaction upon that occasion."

Lord Dartmouth soon became the friend and con-
fidant of that lonely and harassed woman Queen
Anne, who held long talks with him ; many of her
opinions being given in his valuable notes to Burnet's
history, which " the blabbing Bishop," as he was
irreverently called, altered and modified to please the
wishes and spare the faults of those whose favour
and interest he desired.

CHAPTER VI

The Duke of Marlborough writes to the Exiled Queen
— Her Majesty's Answer — Lord Godolphin is
dismissed— Flings His Staff of Office into the
Grate — The Duchess of Marlborough is enraged
— Plot to punish Her Majesty — Is forbidden the
Court — Endeavours to frighten the Sovereign —
Her Estimate of the Queen — Threatens to publish
Her Majesty's Letters — The Duke of Shrewsbury-is
employed to recover Them — Why Their Publication
was prevented — The Duke of Maryborough's
Return — He is advised to get rid of His Wife —
Interview with the Queen — Brings a Penitent
Letter from the Duchess — Her Majesty is deter-
mined to deprive Her of all Her Offices —
Mortification of the Duke, Who throws Himself
on His Knees — The Queen demands the Gold
Keys of Office — Which the Duchess flings at
Her Husband's Head — A Glimpse at the Ducal
Household — The Duchess abuses Her Sovereign
—The Duke thinks there is no Help for it—
The Queen complains of Her House being pulled
to Pieces.

475

CHAPTER VI

IN his voluminous " History of Great Britain,"
Macpherson makes a statement founded on the
examination of the Stuart papers, to the effect that
the Duke of Marlborough, on learning of his son-in-
law's dismissal, allowed his passion to overcome his
natural caution ; and in order to triumph over his
enemies and revenge himself on the Queen, immediately
wrote to the Duke of Berwick (son of King James),
offering his services in placing on the throne, the
youth who was known to some as James III., and
to others as the Pretender. Although, says the same
authority, the exiled royal family had previously been
disappointed in him, they resolved to treat his offer
with attention and apparent confidence ; besides which
they feared that if he were slighted, he would attach
himself to the House of Hanover. A correspondence
passed between the Duke and the widow of James II.,
in which she begged him to retain his command of
the Army as being most serviceable to her son's cause,
and concludes a long letter printed by the historian,
in which she says — u You desire us to apply to Mrs.

477

478 Ube (Queen's Comrabe

Masham, the new favourite of the Princess Anne.
How can we my lord, apply to a stranger? Mrs.
Masham owes us no obligations. She has neither
pledged her faith, nor promised her assistance. You
have repeatedly done both my lord ; and now it is
in your power to place my son in a condition to
protect yourself."

The Duke unwilling to compromise himself, diplo-
matically assured the Court of St. Germains that
patience only was necessary to establish James III.
upon the British throne ; and their hope that this
would be brought about, was largely placed on Lord
Godolphin, whose attachment to the House of Stuart
had never abated, though it had been kept secret
because of his natural timidity. A blow to these
expectations was therefore struck when, on August 6th,
1710, the Queen dismissed her Lord Treasurer. Her
motives for this were conveyed to him in a brief
letter which said, <c The uneasiness you have showed
for some time, has given me very much trouble,
though I have borne it ; and had your behaviour
continued the same as it was for a few years after
my coming to the crown, I would have no dispute
with myself what to do. But the many unkind
returns I have received since, especially what you said
to me before the lords, makes it impossible for me to
continue you any longer in my service ; but I will
give you a pension of four thousand a year ; and I
desire that instead of bringing the staff to me, you will
break it, which I believe will be easier to us both."

(Bofcolpbfn breafes 1foi9 Staff of ©ffice 479

On receiving this letter Lord Godolphin hastened
to the Queen to remonstrate with her, and asked
if he might continue in his office as treasurer ; but
weary of the lectures and reprimands she had con-
tinually received from him at the dictation of the
duke and duchess, Her Majesty was firm in dismissing
him ; on which he returned home, broke his staff of
office and flung it angrily into the grate. A few
days later and his son Lord Rialton, who was the
duchess's son-in-law, was deprived of his post as
cofferer to the Crown.

All appointments held by the Whigs were filled
by Tories, by whom the Queen meant to surround
herself ; a proceeding that enraged the duchess, who
conceived a fresh means of outraging Her Majesty.
No mention is made of this in the Account of her
Conduct, but is dwelt on in the series of private
letters written by her to Sir David Hamilton, one
of the royal physicians, who originally owed his post
at Court to her grace. The obligation he was under,
and the friendliness he felt towards her, had made
him endeavour to restrain her anger at the dismissal
of Lord Sunderland, and to suggest a tactful behaviour,
by which it was hoped she might regain favour with
the Queen, whose confidence he had obtained by his
good sense and courteous manners.

When therefore the duchess was falsely charged
by Dean Swift, in No. 16 of the Examiner, with
purloining twenty-two thousand a year during the
eight years in which she had acted as Mistress of

48° ftbe (Queen's Comtabe

the Robes, she wrote a letter vindicating herself from
this gross accusation, addressed to Sir David, with
instructions to submit it to the Queen. When he
had done so, and Her Majesty had read it, she
remarked, " Everybody knows cheating is not the
Duchess of Marlborough's crime." Taking hope
from this reply, her grace next asked him, to convey
her offer to the Sovereign to attend her whilst she
tried on some new robes that had been ordered for
her by the duchess as Groom of the Stole ; but the
Queen instantly charged him to prevent her grace
from coming to Court, adding with her usual timidity,
that he was not to say she refused to permit the
duchess's attendance.

It was then that her grace, seeing she was forbidden
the royal presence, put into action the plan already
referred to of humiliating and plaguing Her Majesty,
by a threat to publish the letters she had written
in the fulness of her affection to her beloved Mrs.
Freeman.

This plot is nakedly revealed to Sir David in a
letter written to him by the duchess. There was
a servant, she said, in an humble station, but in waiting
near the royal person, with whom Her Majesty often
gossipped, and who agreed with the duchess that
nothing succeeded with the Sovereign but fear or
flattery, " for which reason," says the writer, " he
pretended he would fright the Queen about the letters
I had in my power, and give her to understand * how
unwilling he should be to fall out with one that could

Utoom tot IReconciltatton 481

do so much hurt as I might do Her Majesty/ adding
' he feared that her provocations would make me
print her letters, for that. I had a great spirit, and was
justly enraged to be in print for such lies as I had
been/ The Queen ordered this man to write me a
letter to Windsor, and send it by a messenger on
purpose. He was to desire me * as a friend not to
do anything that might reflect on Her Majesty,
insinuating that there was still room for reconciliation
with her and me.' And to carry on the matter more
successfully, I writ all my letters to him with a design
he should show them to Her Majesty, who thinking
I knew nothing of her seeing any of my letters, and
as her mind loved to manage such a secret with any
one in a low station, I so ordered it that I might
say what otherwise could not have been told to her."

A concluding paragraph in this letter shows the
duchess's estimate of one who had given her un-
bounded affection and loaded her with favours. " I
am afraid," says the duchess, " you will have a very
ill opinion of me that could pass so many hours with
one I have just given such a character of ; but tho'
it was extremely tedious to pass so many hours where
there could be no conversation, I knew she loved me,
and I suffered much by fearing I did wrong when
I was not with her. I have gone to the Queen a
thousand times when I had rather been in a dungeon."

Sir David was now dragged into this plot between
a servant and a duchess, for the purpose of frightening
their Sovereign ; when on the one hand he protested

482 ftbe Queen's Comrafce

against the publication of these private letters, and
on the other represented to Her Majesty the danger
of provoking such an imperious woman. It was
probably owing to her threats, that the duchess was
permitted to keep her places with the handsome
salaries attached to them.

Meanwhile the Queen, who was determined not to
suffer the presence of a woman who had so grossly
insulted her, and who daily feared the world would
be given her foolish and affectionate letters, many of
which referred to incidents in the previous reign and
severely commented on the late sovereigns, had recourse
to the Duke of Shrewsbury, whose tact and courtesy
were proverbial, and employed him to recover her
communications. All his arts failed however, for the
duchess refused to part with them, though she
ultimately consented not to print them until the duke
returned. News of this affair flew about the town
causing indignation everywhere. In a letter dated
November 28th, 1710, contained in the Bolingbroke
correspondence, Secretary St. John says, " I had almost
forgot to tell you an instance of the admirable temper
in which the great man is likely, on his return, to
find his wife. Among other extravagancies she now
declares she will print the Queen's letters — letters
writ whilst Her Majesty had a good opinion of her,
and the fondness for her, which her violent behaviour
since that time has absolutely eradicated."

On the duke's return no more was heard of this
disgraceful threat. Sir Robert Walpole, then coming

^Unpopularity of ZTbe Ducbess 483

into notice, assured Lord Dartmouth, it was he who
prevented the publication of the letters, " by his telling
her she would be tore to pieces in the streets if she
did." For the duchess, because of her ungrateful
conduct and her avariciousness, had become as un-
popular with the people as their Sovereign was popular.
Lord Dartmouth adds, " But she showed the Queen's
letters to everybody, till Arthur Maynwaring a great
favourite of hers, told her she exposed herself more
than the Queen ; for they only confirmed what the
world thought before, that Her Majesty had always
been too fond of her."

The Duke of Marlborough arrived in London on
December 28th, and immediately paid a formal visit
to Her Majesty at St. James's Palace, when personal
or business affairs were avoided. At the second
interview, the Queen said " I am desirous you
should continue to serve me, and will answer for the
conduct of all my ministers towards you," adding, " I
must request you would not suffer any vote of
thanks to you to be moved in parliament this year,
because my ministers will certainly oppose it." The
duke answered that he should always be ready to
serve Her Majesty, if what had recently passed did
not hinder him.

The desire the Queen expressed, and the coldness
of her manner, must have wounded the general ; but
the words of his advisers were doubtless still more
mortifying to him. What these were we learn from
a letter of Secretary St. John, dated January 2jrd,

484 Ube (Queen's Comrafce

1711, in which referring to Marlborough he says,
" He has been told by the Duke of Shrewsbury, by
Mr. Harley, and by your humble servant, that since
the Queen agrees to his commanding the Army, it
is our duty and in the highest degree our interest
to support him if possible, better than he ever yet
was, and that he may depend upon this. . . . He
was told at first that he had nothing to reproach us
with ; that his wife, my Lord Godolphin, and himself
had thrown the Queen's favour away and that he
ought not to be angry if other people had taken it
up. . . . He was told that his true interest consisted
in getting rid of his wife, who had grown to be
irreconcileable with the Queen, as soon as he could,
and with the best grace which he could."

If this advice reached the ears of the duchess, the
wrathful explosion which followed may be imagined ;
it was, however, sufficient to show the duke the intention
of the Court to deprive her of her profitable appoint-
ments. Before he would finally admit this unwelcome
conviction, he employed his friend, Arthur Maynwaring,
to sound Harley upon the subject, but the latter evaded
all enquiries, to which he would merely answer, " That
is the rock on which all will split, if care be not taken
to avoid -it." The duke also sought out Lord Dart-
mouth, as that peer relates, to remind him of their
former friendship, and to hope " he would do him on
that account, all good offices with Her Majesty, who
he knew had entire confidence in him (Lord Dartmouth),
which he was sincerely glad to see." In their con versa-

" H /l&an must beat a (Boob Deal " 485

tion the duke " lamented the strange conduct of his
wife, but declared withal there was no help for that, and
a man must bear a good deal to lead a quiet life at
home." He seems, however, to have gained little
advantage from any influence Lord Dartmouth used on
his behalf, and deeply grieved and mortified at the
prospect of his wife's disgrace, he sought a private
audience with the Queen on January lyth, 1711, and
handed her a letter written by the duchess, probably at
his command and dictation, for it contains no trace of
her customary arrogance or anger, but is worded in a
spirit of humiliation entirely foreign to her nature, but
in keeping with his own.

" Though I never thought of troubling your majesty
in this manner again," it began, " yet the circumstances
I see my Lord Marlborough in, and the apprehension
I have that he cannot live six months, if there is not
some end put to his sufferings on my account, makes
it impossible for me to resist doing everything in my
power to ease him ; and if I am still so unlucky as not
to make use of any expression in this letter that may
move your majesty, it is purely for want of under-
standing ; for I really am very sorry that ever I did
anything that was uneasy to your majesty.

" I am ready to promise anything that you can think
reasonable ; and as I do not yet know but two things
in my whole life, that ever I did, that were disagreeable
to your majesty, I do solemnly protest that as long as
I have the honour to continue your servant, I will never
mention either of those subjects to you, or do any one

486 TTbe (Queen's Comrade

thing that can give you the least disturbance or un-
easiness. And these assurances I am desirous to give
your majesty under my hand ; because I would not
omit anything possible for me to do that might save
my Lord Marlborough from the greatest mortification
he is capable of, and avoid the greatest mischief in
consequence of it, to your majesty and my country.
I am with all the submission and respect imaginable,
your majesty's most dutiful and most obedient subject
and servant."

The Queen took the letter, but for some time refused
to open it ; when, however, at the duke's repeated
request she read it, her answer was, u I cannot change
my resolution," adding that she must have back her
gold keys as Groom of the Stole and Mistress of the
Robes, which the duchess held. On this the duke,
eager that his wife should retain her profitable places
and her favour with the Queen, in the most moving
terms spoke of the duchess's regret for the mistakes
she had made, her willingness to offer reparation,
their former friendship, his own services, everything
which he thought might melt her ; but the Queen
merely answered, " It was for her honour that the
keys should be returned forthwith," and commanded
that they should be brought to her within three
days. The duke then threw himself on his knees
at Her Majesty's feet, and entreated that at least
ten days might be given him before the keys were
required, " to concert some means of rendering
the blow less mortifying and disgraceful," but the

(S&ueen fcemanfcs ibet ike^s 487

Sovereign saw no reason why this request should be
granted.

Before two days had passed, says the duchess, " the
Queen sent to insist that her keys should be restored
to her." But this was a more difficult task for the
poor duke to perform than even Her Majesty was
aware of, for the duchess refused to give them up.
Accordingly when important affairs next forced him
to wait on Her Majesty, he failed to return them ; on
which the Queen positively refused to discuss any
business until he brought her the keys from the duchess.
He was therefore obliged to return home and demand
the keys, which, heedless of her recent humiliation, the
duchess still refused to surrender. He therefore " laid
his commands on her " to produce them, when after a
violent scene she flung them at his head. The historian
Cunningham who relates this fact says, that glad to
obtain them on any condition, the duke snatched them
up and hurried with them to the Queen, who received
them " with far greater pleasure than if he had brought
her the spoils of an enemy." The same writer adds
that " the duchess flew about the town in rage, and with
eyes and words full of vengeance, proclaimed how ill
she had been treated by the Queen."

A glimpse of what passed in the ducal household is
given by Lord Cowper who visited it the following
day. The duke was reclining on his bed, the duchess,
seated beside him, whilst the company that had come
to condole with them were seated in a circle, listening
to the extravagant raillery of her grace concerning Her

VOL. II. II

488 Ube (Siueen's Comrabe

Majesty. When opportunity offered, Lord Cowper
cautiously whispered to the duke, <c how surprised he
was at all the duchess ventured to say against the
Queen ; although he had heard much of her tempers
this was what he could not have believed ; " to which
his grace mildly replied, " That nobody minded what
the duchess said against the Queen or anyone else,
when she happened to be in a passion, which was pretty
often the case, and there was no way to help it."
What struck Lord Cowper most in her grace's remarks
was, " That she had always hated and despised the
Queen ; but as for that fool," pointing to her daughter,
Henrietta Lady Rialton, who was crying bitterly, " she
did believe that she had always loved the Queen, and
that she did so still, for which she would never forgive
her."

The duchess's anger was not so great as to prevent
her remembering that some nine years previously, the
Queen had offered her two thousand a year, which was
then refused, but which she now thought fit to claim
for the intervening time. She therefore forwarded
Her Majesty a copy of the letter in which that
generous proposal had been made, and before later
favours had been bestowed, asking if the eighteen
thousand pounds would be allowed her. To this the
Queen consented, when the duchess forwarded her
accounts of the Privy Purse, charging this sum, and
writing at the end of them the sentence in which the
money had been preferred ; so that, says the astute
duchess, " when she signed them, she might at the

THE DUCHESS OF SOMERSET,

489. J

H flfcetbofc tbat was all 1bet ©wn 489

same time attest her own letter, and the offer she
had made me of her own accord." Her Majesty on
returning the bills wrote the words, " I have examined
these accounts and allow them."

The accounts which the duchess made out must have
sorely puzzled the Queen or her secretaries ; for her
grace, in whom natural shrewdness supplied the place
of education, had a method of dealing with figures
that was all her own. Lady Bute, the daughter of
her friend Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, we are told,
often sat and watched the duchess " in the curious
process of casting up her accounts. Curious because
her grace, well versed as she was in all matters relating
to money, such as getting it, hoarding it, and turning
it to the best advantage, knew nothing of common
arithmetic. But her sound, clear head could devise an
arithmetic of its own ; to lookers on it appeared as if
a child had scrabbled over the paper, setting down
figures here and there at random ; and yet every sum
came right to a fraction at last."

Her Court offices being vacant were given to those
whom she heartily detested ; for the Duchess of
Somerset was appointed Groom of the Stole and
Mistress of the Robes ; whilst Mrs. Masham was
given charge of the Privy Purse. Her Grace of
Marlborough's dismissal did not end without a show
of vindictiveness on her part ; for in vacating the
apartments in St. James's Palace belonging to her
offices, she ordered all the brass locks placed by her
on the doors, and all looking-glasses to be removed

490 TOe diueen'8 Comrafce

from them, and would have torn down the marble
chimney pieces, if her husband had not interfered.
This conduct so greatly incensed the Queen, that for
a time she stopped the money supplies for the building
of Blenheim, saying she " would build no house for
the Duke of Marlborough when the duchess has pulled
hers to pieces." It may be added that up to this
time two hundred thousand pounds had been issued
by the Royal warrants towards the erection of this
palace.

CHAPTER VII

Queen Bess's Day — Arrest of the Pope and the
Devil — They are viewed by Dean Swift and
the Town — The Duchess of Marlborough designs
to keep Assemblies — The Remarks of a Country
Gentleman — The Duke of Marlborough is accused
of Peculations — And dismissed the Army — He
writes to Her Majesty — Seeks the Friendly
Services of Lord Dartmouth — Duels are fought —
But very Odd Figures at Court — The Queen
gives Prince Eugene a Sword — Plot against Her
Majesty — The Duke of Marlborough intends to
make a Ball — Abigail is made a Great Lady —
The Queen's Concern for Her Brother — Who
writes to Her — She consults the Duke of
Buckingham — Abigail and the French Envoy —
The Duchess employs Pamphleteers to abuse
the Queen and the Government — And is libelled
in Return — The Duke complains — Death of Lord
Godolphin at St. Albans— The Duke of Marl-
borough goes into Exile — Cause of His leaving
England — The Duchess's Farewell affronts to the
Queen — Her Letters from Abroad — The Duke's
Offers of His Service by Turns to the Court of
St. Germains and the House of Hanover.

491

CHAPTER VII

1^ HE dismissal of the Duchess of Marlborough
from Court, did not induce her husband to
put into force his oft-repeated threats of resigning
his posts and employments. Accordingly on March
4th, 1711, he took his leave of the Queen, and once
more set out for The Hague, to continue the disastrous
war which had been of little advantage to England,
and of which the Tories and the bulk of the nation
had become heartily tired.

During his absence political factions into which it
is not necessary to enter, became extremely bitter, and
had risen to fury on November iyth, the date of his
return, generally known as " Queen Bess's day " ;
on which it had been the custom for years to
carry effigies of the pope and the devil through the
streets, and burn them at night amidst great clamour
at the base of Elizabeth's statue near Temple Bar.
On this occasion it was intended that the procession
should be more exciting than usual, and it was stated
that several Whig nobles had subscribed largely
towards the purchase of additional effigies, that were

493

494 ZTbe (Queen's Comtabe

to represent the Tory ministers and to share the fiery
fate of His Holiness and His Satanic Majesty, with
the hope of inflaming the mob and creating a tumult,
in order to show that the Tories, who were advocates
for peace, were unpopular.

Fearing the riots that might follow on such an
exhibition, the Government determined to prevent it.
" Accordingly on Friday last," says a news sheet,
a about Twelve o'clock at Night, some of Her Majesty's
Messengers, sustain'd by a Detachment of Grenadiers
of the Foot Guards with their Officer, were ordered to
go to an Empty House in Angel Court Drury Lane,
which being broke Open, they found in it the Effigies
of the Devil, that of the Pope on his Right hand,
that of a young Gentleman in a Blue Cloth Coat, with
Tinsel Lace, and a Hat with a White Feather made of
Cut Paper, seated under a large canopy ; as also the
Figures of Four Cardinals, Four Jesuits, and Four
Franciscan Fryars, and a large Cross about Eighteen
Foot High, all which being put on Several carts, were
about Two a'Clock in the morning carry'd to the Cock-
Pit and there lodged in a Room between the Council
chamber and the Rt. Hon. the Earl of Dartmouth's
Secretary's Office." It may be added that the young
gentleman who sported tinsel lace and a hat with a paper
feather, represented " the Person who has pretended to
disturb the Settlement of the Protestant succession."

The figures were on view for several days and were
visited by the town, Swift, amongst others, flocking
to see them and being disappointed to find that the

" 3tt 3 bafc been in OLonfcon n 495

devil bore little resemblance to the lord treasurer
Harley. " If I had been in London," says Peter
Wentworth in writing to his brother, " I would have
sent you some of the prints that have been publish't
about the designed procession of Queen Elizabeth's
birthday. The figures that were taken are show'd at
the Cock Pit, and I hear the Duchess of Marlborough
has been to see them. The Duchess of Montagu and
Lady Sunderland went there in a mob to have past
for servant maids, but everybody knew them.

"They say," continues this worthy gossip, "the
Duchess of Marlborough designs this winter to keep
assemblies and live after a most magnificent manner
at her new house ; but I think she might be warned
by the advise she had from a country Gentleman of
about two hundred a year, who was made very drunk
at her house at St. Albans, for it seems she has keept
open house there all this summer ; he told her, her
entertainment was very noble and fine, and if she
had lived so two or three years agoe it might have
signified something, but now it wou'd signifie nothing."

Further reference to the figures which created such
a stir amongst all classes, is made by Peter's mother,
Lady Wentworth, who had the distinction of being
a great-grandmother at the age of fifty-three. " Thear
are aboundenc of storys goe about, but one very
commical, it is that Dockter Gath went to Lord
Darkmuth and told him he was sorry he must goe
to law with him for breaking open his hous taking
his goods out. Soe my lord askt what he ment ; he

496 Ube (Slueen's Comrade

said the hous whear the imagis was taken from was
his, and the Devell was his. My lord sayde he would
return the Devel to him again. The Dr said he
designed to make a great funurel for the Devel and
have a sarment preached. My lord asked what the tex
should be ; he said it was, that his desyples came
in the night and stoal him away."

When on December 6th, 1711, the Queen opened
Parliament, she declared in her speech from the throne,
that she rejoiced to tell her faithful Commons " that
notwithstanding the arts of those who delight in war,
both place and time are appointed for the treaty of a
general peace," and was certain no true Protestant or
good subject would envy her the glory of ending a
tedious and expensive war. In the debate which
followed, the Duke of Marlborough was covertly
censured for prolonging hostilities for his own interests ;
to which he replied that his great age and his recent
fatigues made him wish to enjoy repose u in order to
think of eternity"; but that he could not agree to
the measures taken to gain a peace which he considered
would be the ruin of Europe.

His support of the Whig party in their desire for
a continuation of war, was followed by a damning
charge made by the Tory party against the duke, of
various peculations regarding contracts for bread and
bread waggons for the Army. The duke immediately
defended himself in a reply printed in the Courant ;
letters of accusation followed, and a fierce paper war
raged through the town. At a cabinet council held

fcfsmteseb 497

on the last day of the year, the following entry was
ordered to be made in its books : " Being informed
that an information against the Duke of Marlborough
was laid before the House of Commons by the com-
missioners of the public accounts, Her Majesty thought
fit to dismiss him from all her employments, that the
matter might undergo an impartial investigation. "

The Queen wrote to break this news to the duke
in a private note which he indignantly threw into the
fire ; but in a calmer moment he sent her a letter
saying, " Madam, I am very sensible of the honour
your majesty does me, in dismissing me from your
service, by a letter of your own hand, though I find
by it that my enemies have been able to prevail with
your majesty to do it in the manner that is most
injurious to me. And if their malice and inveteracy
against me had not been more powerful with them than
the consideration of your majesty's honour and justice,
they would not have influenced you to impute the
occasion of my dismission to a false and malicious
insinuation, contrived by themselves, and made public,
when there was no opportunity for me to give in my
answer, which they must needs be conscious would fully
detect the falsehood and malice of their aspersions, and
not leave them that handle for bringing your majesty
to such extremities against me."

In continuation he gave it as his opinion that the
friendship of France, contemplated by peace, would
prove destructive to Her Majesty, " there being in that
Court a root of enmity irreconcileable to your majesty's

'5 (Jomrabe

government, and the religion of these kingdoms " ; and
he concluded by hoping she might never find the want
of so faithful a servant as he had endeavoured to be.

This letter not having the desired effect of reconciling
the Queen to him, he once more sought the services
of his kinsman Lord Dartmouth, and asked him to
represent to Her Majesty " the inexpressible infliction
it was to him to be under her displeasure ; that he
did not pretend to justify his own behaviour in all
particulars much less his wife's ; but as they were
and ought to be her creatures, desired she would
dispose of them any way she thought most for her
service ; which should be entirely submitted to, though
she should think proper to have them transplanted
to the West Indies." When this was repeated to
the Sovereign, she replied she would never show any
disfavour to the duke unless he forced her to do
so; but she could not think his professions were
sincere so long as he placed himself at the head of
a party to oppose everything that was for her service.
u Next day," adds Lord Dartmouth, " there was a
report all over London that the Queen had made
proposals to the duke which he had rejected."

On January 24th, 1712, the report of the com-
missioners against the Duke of Marlborough came
before the Commons, when by a majority of over
a hundred votes a resolution was passed " That the
taking several sums of money annually by the Duke
of Marlborough from the contractors for furnishing
the bread and bread waggons, in the Low Countries,

44 Uwo Iftoblemans falling out " 499

was unwarrantable and illegal." The amount of the
gratuities received by the duke from the contractors
for bread, was estimated at sixty-three thousand pounds;
whilst the percentage he had deducted from the pay-
ment of foreign troops, came to four hundred and
sixty thousand pounds. An order was obtained to
prosecute him, but was not proceeded with.

Amongst the many mortifications which he met
with at this time, not the least bitter was a speech
made in the House of Lords by Earl Poulett, who
in the heat of a debate referred to " a certain general
who led his troops to the slaughter, to cause a great
number of officers to be knocked on the head in a
battle, or against stone walls, in order to fill his
pocket by disposing of their commissions." The
duke heard this with silent contempt, but when the
House rose he sent a message by Lord Mohun to
the earl, inviting him to take the air in the country.
On the latter asking if this were meant for a challenge
he was told that the message required no explanation.
Lord Mohun added, " I shall accompany the Duke
of Marlborough, and your lordship would do well
to provide a second. In the course of the day Earl
Poulett's wife was led to suspect that some mischief
was on foot, when she immediately wrote to Lord
Dartmouth, asking him to order the Guards " to be
ready upon two noblemans falling out." She adds
that she will listen when Lord Mohun comes and
will send a more speedy and exact account. In her
next note, still preserved, this frightened wife says

500 ftbe (Queen's Comrabe

" I listened and itt is my Lord Mallbouro that has
challenge my lord, by Lord Mohun. Pray let them
be secured immediately. Pray burn my letters and
send the very next gard att hand to secure my lord
and Lord Mohun." Earl Poulett was accordingly
placed under arrest, whilst the duke was forbidden
by the Queen to proceed further in this affair.

Encounters of this kind were not uncommon, but
one of the most violent duels was fought a few months
later by the above-mentioned Lord Mohun, and the
Duke of Hamilton. The latter, an intimate friend
of the Queen's, was a staunch Tory, whilst Lord
Mohun was a rabid Whig. He was likewise a man
of dissolute life and drunken habits, and already had
been twice tried for homicide ; one of his victims
being the unoffending Montford the player. A quarrel
concerning property in Chancery brought the smoulder-
ing enmity of Mohun and the Duke of Hamilton
to a head, when a challenge was sent by the former
to his grace. Being accepted by him, they met one
dull Sunday morning in November, on the marshy
wastes of Hyde Park ; the duke having his kinsman
Colonel Hamilton for his second, while Mohun was
supported by General Macartney. All four drew
their swords at the same time, and fought desperately,
but Colonel Hamilton quickly disarmed his antagonist,
when looking round he saw Mohun lying on his back
apparently dead, whilst near him lay the Duke of
Hamilton face downwards. Flinging away his sword,
the colonel rushed to his kinsman whom he lifted to

"Sol& flMs Country for a SbflHttfl" 501

his feet, and as he was still living, was supporting
him in his arms, when Macartney coming behind them,
stabbed the duke who immediately fell dead.

A less fatal duel, which however caused great talk
in the coffee houses, is mentioned by Peter Wentworth.
" T'other day " he says in writing to his brother on
March 9th, 1711, "the Duke of Argile had a duell
with Coll Cout, who has a company of Guards. The
accation on't was this ; the Duke of Argile had a
penny post letter sent him from an unknown hand
that the night before his health was proposed to be
drunk and that Coll Cout said, damn him he wou'd
not drink the health of a man that had changed
sides, and one that had sold his country for a shilling
and wou'd sell his god for half a crown. Upon this
letter the duke went to him to know if he had said
any such thing ; Cout said he was in drink, but
cou'd not deny but he might have said some such
thing ; so they fought in Hide Park, the duke disarm'd
him, and there's an end of the business ; but some
think it worth the duke's while to find out who the
person was that sent him the penny post letter, for 'twas
doubtfull whether 'twas a friend or an enemy."

The action of Parliament in dismissing and dis-
gracing the Duke of Marlborough, does not seem
to have greatly affected him ; for on the visit to
London of Prince Eugene, to endeavour to persuade
the Government to continue the war, his grace was
present at many of the great festivities given to the
illustrious stranger who had shared his campaigns,

502 TTbe Queen's Comrafce

and whom Swift describes as " plaguy yellow, and
literally ugly besides." An interesting letter from
Peter Wentworth gives a glimpse of the town and
of the part played by the duke at this time.

"The Whigs are pleased to give out," he writes
on January 1 2th, 1712, c< there was but very odd
figures at Court on the Birthday. They gave out
before that there would be very little company, and
'twas said the Queen would not come out ; but there
was as much fine cloaths as ever, and I thank God
the Queen appeared both morning and afternoon as
usual, and the next day had got no cold but was
rather better then before, and a friday J was out
with her to take the air in Hide Park.

" On her birthday she gave Prince Eugene a sword
sett with diamonds, the Queen being to be carried in
her chair from her dressing-room to the great Drawing-
room, everybody but the ladies in waiting and my
Lord Chamberlain was keept out of that appartment ;
but when the Queen goes in her chair 'tis my business
to be there, so I saw my Lord Chamberlain come in
with Prince Eugene alone and go into the dressing-
room, and after staying 2 or 3 minutes he came out
with the Sword the Queen had given him in his hand,
and then pull'd off his own Sword and gave it to a
page of the back stairs that stood at his elbow, and
put on t'other."

The next paragraph refers to a dark rumour generally
believed, and sufficiently credited by the timid Queen
to cause her great fright, that the Duke of Marlborough

44 (Buarfcs were fcoublefc " 503

and the Whigs, whom she had put out of office, had
entered into a plot to seize her person, and depose
her in favour of the Electress of Hanover. It also
supports a statement which Horace Walpole says he
had often heard his father make, and which Lord
Hertford told David Hume, " that towards the end
of Queen Anne's reign, when the Whig ministers were
turned out of all their places at home, and the Duke
of Marlborough still continued in the command of the
army abroad, the discarded ministers met and wrote
a letter which was signed by Lord Somers, Lord
Townsend, Lord Sunderland, and Sir Robert Walpole,
desiring the Duke of Marlborough to bring over the
troops he could depend upon, and that they would
seize the Queen's person, and proclaim the Elector of
Hanover regent. The Duke of Marlborough replied,
c It is madness to think of such a thing/ '

Peter Wentworth's letter shows that precautions
were taken against this dreaded act. " There was
better order keept this birthday than ever I saw,"
says he. "At night the Guards were doubled, some
people affirm there was no accation for't, but only
to show their diligence and over and above care,
and to cast an odium upon some people ; but other
people that pretent to know more say 'twas no
work of supperrogation, but what was absolutely
necessary.

" 'Twas talk't of as if the Duke of Marlborough
intended to make a ball that night at his house, but
when he found how it was took as a sort of vying

VOL. II. 12

504 tlbe (Sfcueen's Comrafce

with the Court, he let it alone ; but the Duchess of
Marlborough did send to several Ladies to invite them
to a danceing a friday night. I know some ladies she
invited, but that morning there was papers cry'd about
the Street as representing it a design to sett up for
themselves, that there was several people that had made
cloaths for that day that had not for the birthday ; so
they put off their Ball, but sent to all the Ladies they
had invited, there wou'd be no danceing ; but that
the Duchess wou'd be at home, and shou'd be glad
to see any of them that wou'd come."

At this time the duchess's two daughters, Lady
Sunderland and Lady Rialton, who were ladies of
the bedchamber, resigned their posts : all four of
the sisters were violent Whigs, and deeply resented the
indignities their father suffered from the Tories. Bitter
indeed must have been the mortification of the whole
family when on May 24th, 1711, Robert Harley was
created Earl of Oxford and Mortimer, and Abigail's
husband was also made a peer. From Lord Dart-
mouth's interesting notes we learn that it had not been
Her Majesty's intention to make her new favourite a
woman of title. " I never," the Queen said to him,
u had had the least intention to make a great lady of
Abigail Masham, for by so doing I should lose a useful
servant about my person, for it would give offence for
a peeress to lie on the floor, and do all sorts of inferior
offices."

Harley, however, wished to see his relative uplifted
in the social scale, and his wishes prevailed with the

at last Bbigafl 0rew x>ers rube s°s

Queen, who, it appears, desired that Abigail should
take her honours quietly ; for Lady Strafford writing
to her husband in April 1712, says: "Lady Masham
has not been with anybody or reecaved any visits this
six weeks, and som says the Queen has order'd her to
live very privately, that she may not get the envy of
the Peaple like the Duchess of Marlborough."

Lord Dartmouth describes Abigail as " exceedingly
mean and vulgar in her manners, of a very unequal
temper, childishly exceptious and passionate." It must
be stated, however, that his lordship was not in her
good graces, because " he lived civilly with the Duchess
of Somerset," as he was informed by Her Majesty.
" At last," he continues, " Abigail grew very rude to
me, of which I took no notice. The Queen gave
me a hint of her suspicion, that she or her sister always
listened at the door when I had a conference with Her
Majesty. Abigail likewise showed some disrespects to
the Duchess of Somerset, which gave the Queen a
notion of making her a lady of the bedchamber, and
thus laying her down softly."

Lady Masham's dislike to the Duchess of Somerset
not only arose from her Grace's influence with the
Queen, but because this influence was used to oppose
Her Majesty's favour of her brother James Stuart,
of whom Abigail was a devoted partisan ; for, notwith-
standing the Sovereign's assurance to Parliament in
the speeches written for her by her Ministers, that
her chief concern was for securing the succession of
the Crown to -the House of Hanover, as years

506 ftbe Queen's Comrabe

passed and her illness increased, her thoughts became
more and more fixed on her brother, to whom she
would at her death willingly have yielded her sceptre.
In her sympathy with him, in her desire to see him
peaceably recognised as England's future King, she was
aided by her uncle, Lord Rochester ; by the Duke
of Hamilton ; the Duke of Ormond ; by Lord Jersey,
who had always been a Jacobite at heart, and had
been sent by William to persuade the banished King to
allow his son to be adopted by the reigning monarch ;
and by the Duke of Buckingham, whose wife was the
daughter of Catherine Sedley and James II.

Nicholas Mesnager, the envoy sent by France to
negotiate peace with England, states that such was
Lord Rochester's " feeling of the inviolability of the
line of ancient sovereigns, that although his own niece
Anne, who was on the throne, persuaded him to aid her
Government in the hour of her great need, he did
not conceal from her his opinion that she had no
lawful right to the crown she wore. He is even said
to have told her so in plain terms ; yet she appointed
him the President of her Council. An apoplectic fit
had snatched him away May 2nd, 1711, before any
step could be taken for the accomplishment of his
intentions." His death, Mesnager adds, was a great
blow to the Stuart cause.

Before this happened, however, he had been the
means of opening a correspondence between the Queen
and her brother. In one of the letters written to
his sister by James Stuart, dated May, 1711, and

James writes to Hnne 5°?

preserved amongst the Stuart papers, he begins by
saying, " The violence and ambition of the enemies
of our family and of the monarchy have too long
kept at distance those who by all the obligations of
nature and duty ought to be firmly united, and have
hindered us of the proper means of a better under-
standing between us, which could not fail to produce
the most happy effects to ourselves, to our family,
and to our bleeding country."

He continues by declaring he is resolved to break
through all reserve, and tells her : " The natural
affection I bear you, and that King James our father
had for you till his last breath, the consideration of
our national interests, honour, and safety, and the
duty I owe to God and my country, are the true
motives that persuade me to write to you, and to
do all that is possible to come to a perfect union
with you. And you may be assured, madam, that
although I can never abandon but with my life my
own just right, which you know is unalterably settled
by the fundamental laws of the land, yet I am more
desirous to owe to you than to any living, the recovery
of it. For yourself a work so just and glorious is
reserved. The voice of God and nature calls you
to it. The promises you made to the King your
father enjoin it. ... I am satisfied, madam, that, if
you will be guided by your own inclinations, you will
readily comply with so just and fair a proposal as to
prefer your own brother, the last male of our name,
to the Electress of Hanover, the remotest relation we

tTbe (S&tteen's Comrafce

have, whose friendship you have no reason to rely
on or to be fond of, and who will leave the govern-
ment to foreigners of another language, of another
interest."

The letter concludes by an assurance that he will
make the law of the land the rule of his government,
that he will maintain the rights and liberties of the
Church of England, and give such toleration to
dissenters as parliament will permit.

The Queen was deeply moved on reading this
communication, but knowing the difficulties that stood
in her brother's way to the throne, and the perplexities
that prevented her own wishes, she felt herself unable
to act on his behalf. In this miserable state of mind
she confided to the Duke of Buckingham, and dwelling
on her brother's chances, said, " How can I serve
him, my lord ? He makes not the least step to oblige
me in what I most desire. You know a papist cannot
enjoy this crown in peace. But the example of the
father has no weight with the son. He prefers his
religious errors to the throne of a great kingdom.
How, therefore, can I undo what I have already
done ? He may thank himself for his exclusion. He
knows that I love my own family better than that of
any other. All would be easy should he enter the
pale of the Church of England. Advise him to change
his religion, as that only can change the opinions of
mankind in his favour."

In answer to these remonstrances, James Stuart
wrote once more to his sister a letter remarkable for

"IMafn Dealing 10 best" 509

its honesty in a time of universal deception. The
pith of it is contained in the following sentences.

" Plain dealing is best in all things, especially in
matters of religion ; and as I am resolved never to
dissemble in religion, so I shall never tempt others
to do it ; and as well as I am satisfied of the truth
of my own religion, I shall never look the worse
upon any persons because they chance to differ from
me, nor shall I refuse in due time and place to hear
what they have to say on this subject. But they
must not take it ill if I use the same liberty as I
allow to others — to adhere to the ^religion that in
conscience I think the best. I may reasonably expect
that liberty of conscience for myself which I deny to
none."

The death of Lord Rochester was quickly followed
by that of Lord Jersey, and a little later by the
murder of the Duke of Hamilton, so that, by the
fatality that seemed inseparably connected with James
Stuart's destiny, three of his ablest and most earnest
supporters were removed from the Queen, who now
seemed unable to help him, and who complained of
her Ministers, " I can never get one of them so much
as to speak of him, or to answer me a question about
him, and I don't press them, but I hope they will do
as becomes them." But still all hope was not lost
by those about her of seeing her brother on the throne,
and before the French envoy Mesnager left England
he had some interviews with Lady Masham regarding
" the young gentleman's " prospects. In one of these

sio ttbe Queen's Comrafce

conversations Abigail told him that the Prince's con-
dition gave Her Majesty secret uneasiness. " Nor
was it all the misfortune. By the same necessity of
state she was obliged, not only against her disposition,
but even against her principles, to promote the con-
tinuance of her usurpation, not only beyond her own
life but for ever." She added, it would be an inex-
pressible satisfaction to the Queen " to see herself
delivered from the fatal necessity of doing so much
wrong ; and if it would be possible with safety
to the religion and liberties of her subjects, to have
her brother restored to his rights, at least after her
decease, if it could not be done before. It was true
the Queen did not see her way clearly through this,
and it seemed next to impossible, for the rage and
aversion of the greatest part of the common people to
the return of her brother had grown to such a height."

When their final interview ended and Mesnager took
his leave, he states in his " Minutes of Negotiation,"
from which the above particulars are taken, that he
went away " wondering much within myself that such
a mean character should be attributed to this lady, as
some have made public ; but I must add, that she
seemed to me as worthy of the favour of a Queen as
any woman I have ever conversed with in my life."

For a time it seemed as if the Duchess of Somerset,
whose influence was inimical to James Stuart's cause,
would be removed from Court, not through any
influence or jealousy of Abigail's, but because the Tory
government knowing herself and her husband, who was

Xtbels against Ube <aueen 511

Master of the Horse to Her Majesty, were Whigs, feared
her grace would prejudice the Queen against themselves.
The Sovereign however was bitterly opposed to parting
with the duchess whom she valued as a kind and
sympathetic friend. " If the Dutchess of Sommerset
must out," says Peter Wentworth, " she will leave the
Court with a very good grace, for everybody is pleased
with her good breeding and civility ; and I believe if
her Duke had thought her what all the rest of the world
thinks, capable of advising him, matters would not be
as they are. Their case is the reverse of the Duke and
Dutchess of Marlborough ; in the eye of the world 'tis
she has been the ruin of him, and he (the Duke of
Somerset) the ruin of her." The duchess however was
allowed to retain her office, though the proud duke who
had managed to offend both parties lost his.

Meanwhile the Duchess of Marlborough was far from
idle, though her activity was not productive of peace
or good will to any man ; for without the consent or
knowledge of her husband, she wrote the anonymous
letter to Abigail, a draft of which is amongst her grace's
papers, and employed the pamphleteers and news writers
— who could be found by the score at the coffee houses,
and whose politics and principles obligingly agreed with
those of their employers — to deluge the press with the
grossest libels against the Queen and the Tory ministry.
The result was obvious ; for in return both herself and
the duke were bitterly attacked, lampooned, satirised,
and caricatured with all the mercilessness and indecency
which the licence of the times permitted.

512 t£be (Slueen's Comrafce

The duke's sensitive nature winced under these
attacks of which he wrote to complain to Lord Oxford ;
but his life was at this time made more bitter still by a
threat of proceedings against him for the recovery of
the amount he had derived from army contracts, which
he, whilst admitting that he had received it, declared to
be justifiable ; and by the fact that, as money was not
forthcoming from the treasury for the building of
Blenheim, the workmen employed and those who had
lent certain sums for the purpose of carrying it on, the
whole amounting to about ,£30,000, were encouraged
to sue the duke for their claims which he refused to
pay, as the Queen had undertaken to erect this palace.

He was also saddened by the death of his old friend
Lord Godolphin, which took place on September I5th,
1712, at Holy well House, where he had been staying
with the Marlboroughs. According to the duchess,
when all his debts were paid, he left scarcely enough to
bury him ; but that ceremony was conducted with
much pomp, and for days his remains lay in the
Jerusalem Chamber at Westminster Abbey, waiting
until a sufficient number of Whig knights of the garter
could be got together to act as his pall bearers.

Soon after he was laid to rest in the Abbey, the Duke
of Marlborough suddenly quitted England with the
intention of taking up his residence abroad. " I think,"
writes Lord Berkeley of Stratton to Lord Raby, on
December 2nd, 1712, " the D. of Marlborough is gone
at last. The reason is yet a mistery, and I have often
reflected upon what a great minister told you concerning

0oes into Bjtle 513

him, which I cannot believe. The Duke stay'd at Sir
Harry Furnesses (at Sandwich) for a wind, and now I
hear Sir Harry is dead."

Time which clears many mysteries, revealed that
concerning his sudden departure ; for both Dalrymple
and Macpherson in their respective histories, mention
its cause. From their accounts it appear that Robert
Harley, Lord Oxford, believing the duke's presence
dangerous to the Government, and productive of
uneasiness to the Queen, determined that he should
leave England. The means to effect this lay in the
minister's hands. He therefore requested the duke to
keep an appointment with him at the house of his
brother, Thomas Harley, in St. James's Street, Bucking-
ham Gate, which his grace did in the most private
manner, coming at night in a sedan chair to the back
door. It was then the minister showed the duke a
letter written by him in 1694 to James II., warning
him of the attack which was to be made by King
William on Brest ; and told him that for his own
security, and to end Her Majesty's fears, he must quit
the kingdom.

Lord Oxford then obtained a passport for him, but
not without some opposition from both parties, and
the duke left England in November 1712. On hearing
that he had gone, the Queen significantly remarked,
"The Duke of Marlborough has acted wisely in
going abroad." Before taking his departure the duke,
always careful and cautious, had vested his estates in
the hands of his sons-in-law, and had lodged fifty

5 M ZTbe (Slueen's Comrade

thousand pounds in the Dutch funds, where it would
be secure, no matter what change occurred in the
English Government.

He then set out for Ostend on his way to Frank-
fort, where it was his intention to settle for some time,
taking with him a suite consisting of two gentlemen,
three valets de chambre, three footmen, a cook,
coachman, postilion, helper, and grooms. The duchess
was left behind until she could make arrangements for
their prolonged stay abroad. That he was anxious she
should join him, is shown by his letter to her written
from Maestricht, February 5th, 1713 ; whilst the
affection and perhaps awe with which he regarded her,
are also revealed in the following extract.

" If you have observed by my letters that I thought
you would have left England sooner than you have
been able to do, I hope you will be so kind and just
to me, to impute it to the great desire I had of having
the satisfaction of your company. For I am extremely
sensible of the obligation I have to you, for the reso-
lution you have taken of leaving your friends and
country for my sake. I am very sure if there be
anything in my power that may make it easy to you,
I should do it with all imaginable pleasure. In this
place you will have little conveniences ; so that we
must get to Frankfort as soon as we can."

Her enforced exile must have been bitter to her proud
spirit, that was now more hostile than ever to the
Queen, whom she treated with some farewell affronts.
In the early days of their affection Anne had given a

2>ucbess also 0oes B&roafc 515

beautiful miniature portrait of herself framed in
diamonds to her friend, who now tore it from its
valuable setting, which she took care to retain, and
gave it to a Mrs. Higgens, whose qualification for
the gift lay in the fact that she held an humble post
in St. James's Palace, through which news of this
contemptuous act must spread. Mrs. Higgens took
the portrait to Lord Oxford, who gave her a hundred
guineas for it. The duchess's final insult to her
Sovereign was to return the passport signed by the
latter, saying that " if one signed by Lord Dartmouth
were not sufficient she would depart without one."
She reached Frankfort in safety, and from thence wrote
the following letter to Robert Jennings, a solicitor and
a relative, which with many others of her epistles is
preserved amongst the original MSS. at Madresfield
Court : —

"I am just come now from a window from which I
saw a great many troops pass that were under the
command of Prince Eugene. They paid all the Respects
as they went by to the Duke of Marlborough, as if he
had been in his old Post. The sight gave me melan-
cholly Reflections and made me weep. . . . When I
had write so far I was called to receive the honour
of a visit from the Elector of Miance (Mayence). I
fancy hee came to this Place chiefly to see the Duke
of Marlborough. His shape is, like my own, a little
of the fattest, but in my Life I never saw a Face that
expressed so much Opennesse, Honesty, Sense and good
Nature. Hee made me a great many fine Speeches,

ftbe Queen's Comrafce

which would not be well in me to brag of ; but I can't
help repeating Part of his Compliment to the Duke of
Marl, that he wished any Prince of the Empier might
bee severely punished if ever they forgot his Merit ;
and the Civillitys are so great that are paid him by all
sorts of People, that one can't but reflect how much a
greater Claim he had to all manner of good Usage from
his own ungrateful country.

<c It would fill a book to give you an Account of all
the Honours don him as we came to this Place by the
Elector of Sonnes and in all the towns, as if the D. of
Marl, had been King of them, which in his case is very
valuable, because it shews 'tis from their Hearts ; and
if hee had been their King, hee might have been like
others a tyrant."

In another letter she assures Robert Jennings she is not
so uneasy as he imagines because time hangs so heavy on
her hands, " which you may the easyer believe because
I us'd to run from the Court and shut myself up six
weeks in one of my country Hous's quit alone " ; but
this does not mean that she would not now earnestly
desire to see her friends " and to be in a clean sweet
Hous and Garden tho' ever so small, for here there is
nothing of that kind."

In a more melancholy letter dated June 9th, 1713,
she says : —

" I know one must dye some time or other, and I
really think the matter is not very great where it
happens or when ; but if I could have my wish it
would bee in England in a clean Hous where I might

"1Rot wottb an Ibour's pains" 517

converse with my children and friends while I am in
the world ; but if that must not be I submitt, and I
will own to you that I am not so much to be pittyd as
some People, having never seen any Condition yet that
was near so happy as 'twas thought. When I was
a great Favourite I was rail'd at and flattered from
Morning to Night, neither of which was agreeable to
me ; and when there were but few women that would
not have poysoned mee for the Happynesse they
thought I enjoy'd, I kept the worst Company of any
Body upon Earth, and had reason to be much more
weary then of any that can happen.

"Still wee are like a Sort of banish'd People in a
strang Country, and I could say something to every
Part of my Life that would convince you that 'tis
only a new Sceen of Trouble which few are free from
in this World : and I thank God I can bear anything
with some sort of Patience so long as I have the
Satisfaction to know that I have not been the Occation
of what is call'd so great a Misfortune Myself; and
why should not I bear with any misfortunes that happen
to the whole Country as well as to me ? But the
thought of this indeed is what touches me most,
because that is for ever Destruction to me and all
that I wish well to ; but for anything else it is not
worth an Hour's Pains ; and I can eat."

At the time this letter was written, June 1713, an
estimate of ^60,000 was laid before the House of
Commons for the completion of Blenheim, out of
which £ 1 0,000 was granted. This does not seem to

Ube (Queen's Comrade

have brought much satisfaction to the duchess, who,
writing of the palace, says : —

" But I can't think I shall ever live in it, and indeed
I should be very well contented with the worst of my
Country Hous's. These are melancholly Thoughts,
but when I consider how much of my Life is passed,
and how little there is in this World that is any reall
satisfaction, I can bear with anything of this kind with
more patience than you will easyly believe."

According to the Stuart papers, examined and quoted
by Macpherson in his history of Great Britain, the
Duke of Marlborough soon growing tired of his exile,
sought to regain his former power in England. For
this purpose " he was willing to govern Anne by
yielding to her prejudices" regarding her brother.
Accordingly he once more entered into negociations
with the Court of St. Germains, wrote to King James's
widow, and expressed his devotion to her son, declar-
ing " with an oath, that he would rather cut off his
own right hand, than oppose his views on the throne.
That providing he himself might be rendered secure,
he would not hesitate a moment to use all his credit
both privately and publicly for his service/'

But the duke's offer of his services, always backed
by stipulations for his safety, had been too frequently
repeated and too empty in results to affect the exiled
family ; whilst it failed to regain him the favour of
Queen Anne, whose timid mind had been so impressed
by his supposed complicity in a plot to seize her person,
that, according to more than one authority, the mere

's (Met to lenfc jflfcones 519

mention of his name terrified and threw her into
hysterics. He was therefore told, " she resolved never
to give her consent to his return." In this way the
Queen doubtlessly prevented the accomplishment of
a wish that was nearest her heart.

Disappointed in his desire, resenting distrust of
James Stuart, and the fears of the Queen, the duke
who was a man of many resources, transferred his offers
of zeal and duty to the House of Hanover, in a series
of letters still preserved in the Hanoverian papers.
In one of these written on November 3Oth, 1713,
which with his usual caution " he beggs may be burnt
when read," he charges the Tory ministry with " in-
tentions to bring in the Pretender " ; as instances of
which he pointed out the closer union of the Court
with France since the establishment of peace, " the
giving all employments military and civil to notorious
Jacobites ; the putting the governments of Scotland
and Ireland into the hands of two persons who are
known friends to the Pretender ; the choosing the
sixteen lords to serve for Scotland, of whom two were
with the Pretender last summer and most of the rest
declared Jacobites."

Finally came the strongest proof he was capable of
giving of his loyalty to the House of Hanover, when
he offered to lend money to the Elector " provided
that the interest of five per cent should be regularly
paid." It was suggested that this money should be
spent in support of the Whigs and in harassing the
Tory government and the Queen. As the Elector

VOL. ii. 13

520 abe <aueen'8 Comrabe

would give no security either for the principal or the
interest, the money was never lent.

In speaking of the duke after his death, Alexander
Pope, who was well acquainted with the leading men
of the day, says his grace's inconsistency in correspond-
ing with the Courts of Hanover and St. Germains at
the same time, could be accounted for by his reigning
passion, his absorbing love of money ; for by currying
favour by turns with the Stuarts or the Guelphs, he
hoped to secure his vast riches, under whichever king
came to the throne. " He was calm in the heat of
battle," says the same authority who is quoted in
Spence's Anecdotes, <c and when he was so near being
taken prisoner in his first campagne in Flanders, he
was quite unmoved. It is true he was like to lose
his life in the one, and his liberty in the other ; but
there was none of his money at stake in either. This
mean passion of that great man, operated very strongly
in him in the very beginning of his life, and continued
to the very end of it."

Pope then tells a story supporting his statement.
One day the Duke was looking over some papers in
his escritoire with Lord Cadogan, when opening one
of the little drawers he took out a green purse, and
turned some broad pieces out of it which he looked
at with great satisfaction, saying, " Cadogan, observe
these pieces well, they deserve to be observed ; there
are just forty of them ; 'tis the very first sum I ever
got in my life, and I have kept it always unbroken
from that time to this day."

CHAPTER VIII

Queen Anne suffers — Unable to take Exercise —
Anxiety regarding Her Brother — Refuses to sanc-
tion a Proclamation against Him — Will not allow
the Elector of Hanover to reside in England —
Baron Schutz is forbidden the Court — Writes to
the Electress Sophia — The Queen's Letters to
Hanover are published through the Agency of the
Duchess of Marlborough — Tom D'Urfey is rewarded
for His Doggerel Lines on the Princess — Sudden
Death of the latter— The Duchess of Marlborough's
Letter — Lady Masham taunts Lord Oxford — The
Queen and Her Wrangling Ministers — Dismissed
the Dragon — Her Majesty swoons at a Cabinet
Council — Dreads another Meeting — Is found
gazing at a Clock — Taken ill — Lady Masham
writes to Dean Swift — And Peter Wentworth to
His Brother — The Sovereign raves about Her
Brother — Cabinet Councils are held — Secret Con-
claves in Lady Masham's Apartments — Dr. Radcliffe
is sent for — Queen Anne dies and George I. is
peaceably proclaimed.

CHAPTER VIII

WHILST these events were taking place, Queen
Anne was suffering keenly both in mind and
body. From the age of thirty she had been attacked
by gout in her hands and feet ; and now when close
upon her fiftieth year, that painful complaint continually
threatened to attack a vital part and cause her death.
Unable to take exercise and unwilling to deprive herself
of the enormous quantities of food which her appetite
demanded, she grew enormously stout and unwieldy,
so that walking from one apartment to another became
a task ; whilst, when at Windsor, she was conveyed
from one floor to another in a chair hoist by ropes and
worked by pulleys, which had done the same service for
Henry VIII., since whose time it had remained at the
Castle.

But the pain which afflicted her body was less than
that which racked her mind, threw her into fits of
gloomy foreboding, filled her eyes with tears, and
banished sleep from those tedious and melancholy nights
whose horrors affrighted her. For knowing that her
life was drawing to a close, she was distracted between

523

524 Ube (Queen's Comrabe

the desire to see her brother come into his own, and
the necessity which forced her to sanction the succession
of the House of Hanover. Her conscience cried
out to her to fulfil the promise she had made to her
father, to obey his deathbed command ; to make
restitution to him for the part she had played in
hastening his downfall by the foul charges she had
made against his honour and the stain she had flung
upon her brother's birth, by restoring the crown to the
latter ; whilst at the same time she dreaded lest his
succession would entail a civil war between the subjects
whose interests she had at heart, or deprive them of the
civil and religious liberties which were dearer to them
than life.

Always weak and vacillating, she hesitated to take a
step on his behalf, or to countenance the Electress as
her successor ; and was only decided in one thing, her
bitter abhorrence of seeing an heir to the throne in
her dominions.

Acting in this wavering manner she had, when an
address was presented to her in April 1714, by the
House of Lords, asking that a proclamation be issued
" to take the Pretender dead or alive," in case he
ventured on British soil, answered that she did not see
any occasion for issuing such, but would do so when
necessary, and that the most effectual way to secure the
succession of the House of Hanover, was to put an
end to party jealousies ; a reply that greatly offended
the Whigs.

In return they suggested to Baron Schutz, the

"jflfta&am, Sister, Hunt" 525

Hanoverian envoy, that he should demand a writ
summoning the Electoral prince who had been created
Duke of Cambridge, to take his place in the House of
Lords, or in other words to reside in England. The
demand was accordingly made of Lord Chancellor
Harcourt, who declined to give an answer without
consulting the Queen, to whom he hastened. A Cabinet
Council was immediately summoned when Her Majesty
" exhibited every symptom of violence and passion,"
and declared in the most peremptory manner " that she
would rather suffer the last extremities, than permit
any prince of the Electoral family to come to Britain
to reside during her life. That she considered the
conduct of the envoy in the light of a personal affront ;
and that she intended to solicit the Electress for his
instant recall." At the same time she ordered the
Master of Ceremonies to forbid his appearance at
Court.

She furthermore expressed her sentiments in a letter
to the Electress Sophia, dated May i9th, 1714, in
which, addressing her as " Madam, Sister, Aunt," she
says, " Since the right of succession to my kingdoms
has been declared to belong to you and your family,
there have always been disaffected persons, who by
particular views of their own interest, have entered into
measures to fix a prince of your blood in my dominions,
even whilst I am yet living. I never thought till now
that this project would have gone so far, as to have
made the least impression on your mind. But (as I
have lately perceived by public rumours, which are

526 zrbe (Siueen's Comrafce

industriously spread, that your Electoral highness is
come into this sentiment) it is important with respect
to the successors of your family, that I should tell you
such a proceeding will infallibly draw along with it
some consequences that will be dangerous to the
succession itself, which is not secure any other ways
than as the prince (Sovereign) who actually bears the
crown maintains her authority and prerogative.

" There are here — such is our misfortune — a great
many persons that are seditiously disposed ; so I leave
you to judge what tumults they may be able to raise,
if they should have a pretext to begin a commotion.
I persuade myself therefore that you will never consent
that the least thing should be done that may disturb
the repose of me or my subjects."

Other letters to the same purpose were written to
the Electress, whilst a note was also forwarded to the
Electoral prince by the Queen, assuring him that
nothing could be more dangerous to the tranquillity
of the nation or more disagreeable to herself than his
residence in England. These communications which
the writer intended should be secret, were to her
dismay made public a few weeks later. " One Mons.
Boyer," writes a correspondent of Lord Strafford's,
" has been taken up for conveying to the press those
letters wch were said to be wrote by the Queen
to the Princess Sophia and the Elector of Hanover,
but whether they have dismissed him, or what they
intend to doe with him, I cannot yet learn. I hope
I shall not trouble your lordship with repetition if I

{Tom DUlrfes 52?

write you word how they came to be publick with
us : it is said that the Electress communicated them
to the Duke of Marlborough, as a great secret ; but
that the Dutchess accidentally lighting on them thought
it her duty to communicate a matter of so great
consequence to one Mr. Boscawen, a Relation of hers
in London ; who was so generous to communicate it
to his friends, and they to theirs " ; by which manner
the duchess secured a better mortification to Her
Majesty.

The Electress Sophia of Hanover, now in her
eighty-fourth year, was a woman of great intelligence
and many accomplishments, who despite her years,
preserved a gaiety of heart and sprightliness of manner.
Though careful not to obtrude herself on Anne, the
latter regarded her with jealousy which was turned
to hostility when told that the Electress had said her
great ambition was to die Queen of Great Britain,
and have that fact recorded on her tomb. However,
the Sovereign's anger at this remark was temporarily
turned to laughter when Tom D'Urfey, a song
writer of renown, repeated to her some doggerel
rhymes on the Electress's ambition. It was Tom's
duty and pleasure to amuse Her Majesty daily,
when at the close of the royal dinner he was
admitted to her presence, and taking his stand by
the sideboard, rolled off political squibs, original
verses, coffee-house epigrams, couplets, and various
ballads. To these he added the following lines one
afternoon —

528 tTbe (SSiueetVs Comra&e

"The crown's far too weighty
For shoulders of eighty,

She could not sustain such a trophy,
Her hand too already
Has grown so unsteady,
She can't hold a sceptre ;
So Providence kept her

Away — poor old dowager Sophy."

The Queen was so diverted by this doggerel that
she immediately ordered Tom to be paid fifty pounds
as a reward for his talent. Whilst this squib was still
novel enough to amuse Her Majesty by repetition,
news was brought that the Electress Sophia had died
quite suddenly on June 9th, 1714, whilst walking in
the gardens of Herrenhausen. Always active, delight-
ing in exercise, and fond of work, she kept the
infirmities of age at bay, and preserved her senses
unimpaired to the last. The Duke of Manchester said,
" there was a certain amount of mischief in her
temperament, as there was of Jacobitism in her politics,
and of looseness in her religious principles ; and there
was no sport more excellent in her estimation, than
in setting some clever unorthodox fellow to dispute
on doctrinal questions and theology generally, with
her chaplain, while she sat by enjoying the hard hits
of the one and the embarrassment of the other, and
not particularly caring which had the best or the
worst of the argument."

It was generally rumoured by the Whigs, that the
Queen's private letters, which, through the efforts of
the Duchess of Marlborough, had been given to the

tTbe Ducbess writes to d&r, Jennings 529

public, were the cause of the Princess Sophia's death ;
a statement repeated in the following communication
of her grace to Mr. Jennings, dated July 2nd, 1714.

" The poor old Electress just before she dyd, sent
me the Copys of the Queen's Leter to her and to
the Elector, and the Lord Treasurer's to her. They
are all very extraordinary and I think them so much
worth your seeing that I would send them but that
I believe you will see them without paying the Postage.
7Tis thought at Hanover the Queen's Leter touched
the old Electress so much that it hastened her Death.
She was certainly very desirous of having her Grandson
in England, and write very meaningly to sever all
upon the subject of the Queen's Leters, which I will
say no more of, concluding that you have read them.
I had not the Copy of Her Majesty's to the Elector,
but I was asured that it was rather more furious
against any of the Electors coming into England than
those to the Electresse and young Prince."

Although " every new application to the Queen
concerning her successor was a knell to her heart,"
there were those around her who continually urged
her to take some step towards establishing her brother's
right to the throne, when according to Macpherson's
State papers, she consulted a bishop, supposed to
possess the gift of foresight and prophecy, as to what
would happen if she presented the prince to the privy
council as heir to the crown : " Madam," his lordship
answered, " You would be in the Tower in one month
and dead in three," which alarmed her greatly. As

$30 Hbe (Siueen's Comrabe

her health grew worse the Jacobite agents grew more
bold and active ; visiting and holding council with
Tory ministers and Stuart adherents; and enlisting
both in England and Ireland, men who were ready
and willing to fight for Her Majesty's brother. But
on this latter fact being detected by Lord Wharton,
a great commotion was made throughout the kingdom,
the Hanoverian Court was alarmed, public feeling was
excited, and at a cabinet council held on June 2jrd,
1714, it was agreed that a proclamation offering a
reward of five thousand pounds " for the apprehension
of the Pretender, dead or alive if he were found in
Great Britain or Ireland," should be issued.

On July 7th, 1714, the Queen dissolved Parliament,
being anxious, it was said, to avoid discussions that
might arise on the arrival from Hanover of Baron de
Bothmar, to announce the death of the Electress, and
probably to stipulate for the residence in England of
the Electoral prince. Not only the Court, and
Parliament, but the whole nation was at this time
in a state of the greatest uncertainty and suspense, of
fear and trouble of what the immediate future might
bring.

And amongst those most active in intrigue, was
Robert Harley, Lord Oxford. Considered by the
Whigs to be favourable to the Stuart cause, and known
by the Tories to be in correspondence with the Electoral
family, he had long sought to deceive both parties
without succeeding with either. Nor did his arts
of cajoling the Stuarts and Guelphs by turns, obtain

fllMnteters 531

the object for which they were practised — his retaining
the office of Lord Treasurer or Prime Minister.

His favouring of the Hanoverian line caused a rupture
between him and his cousin Lady Masham, who had
always been a thorough supporter of James Stuart ; and
for the same reason he gravely offended the Queen,
who became anxious he should resign. To bring this
about, Abigail did not hesitate to let the dragon, as
she called him, have the benefit of her thoughts ; for
at times she taunted him by saying, " You never did
the Queen any service, nor are you capable of doing
her any."

In her efforts to oust him from power, Lady Masham
was assisted by St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, the
Secretary for Foreign Affairs, a young man of brilliant
talents, fascinating manner, frank and decisive character,
who was an ardent supporter of the Stuart cause.
Between these ministers a bitter rivalry had sprung up,
and frequently the sovereign, whilst moaning from
pain, dreading agitation, and needing repose, was
obliged to listen to the bitter attacks they made on
each other whilst conducting business. " It was her
office," Dr. Arbuthnot wrote to Dean Swift, " good
naturedly to check the sneers of Harley and to soothe
the indignant spirit of Bolingbroke. In their mutual
altercations they addressed to each other such language
as only cabinet ministers could use with impunity.
Yet the dragon held fast with a dead gripe the little
machine, or in other words, clung to the Treasurer's
staff."

532 ftbe Queen's Comrabe

At length Her Majesty decided to deprive him of
office at the request of the Court of St. Germains,
which, indignant at his duplicity, besought Anne,
through the agency of Lady Masham, to dismiss him,
as may be learned from the correspondence cited in the
Duke of Berwick's memoirs. The ostensible reasons
for this act given by the Queen to her Privy Council
was, " that he neglected all business, was seldom to be
understood ; that when he did explain himself she
could not depend upon the truth of what he said ;
that he never came to her at the time she appointed ;
that he often came drunk ; lastly, to crown all, he
behaved to her with bad manners, indecency, and
disrespect."

In the beginning of July 1714, the Queen, who
of late had suffered from fever, had gone to Windsor,
but a couple of weeks later had come to Kensington
Palace, where it would be more convenient for her
ministers to wait on her regarding state business, one
particular of which was the dismissal of Lord Oxford.
This took place on the 2jth of the month ; and on
the evening of that day a cabinet council was held
at which she presided, to place his office in commission.
No agreement could be arrived at regarding those
suitable to that trust, the Jacobites and Whigs of which
the council was composed, railing and wrangling in a
disgraceful manner from about nine in the evening
until two in the morning, when exhausted and alarmed
the Queen fell into a swoon and was carried to bed.

On regaining consciousness she wept bitterly, and

<aueen 0ef3et> wftb Sllness 533

was unable to sleep throughout the night ; for the
thought of another council to be held next day was
before her, the perpetual contentions of which, she
declared, would cause her death. Once more her
ministers came together, discussed and disputed and
separated without coming to a conclusion, which was
postponed until the following day, Thursday, the 29th.
This she told her confidential physician, Dr. Arbuthnot,
she should never survive.

However, though the suspense and fear of meeting
this council unstrung her nerves, she braced herself for
the ordeal and rose that day. In the afternoon when
Mrs. Danvers, one of her bedchamber women, accidentally
entered the presence chamber, she was surprised to
find the Queen there alone, and standing before a clock
at which she gazed with a fixed expression of terror,
that prompted the question as to " whether Her
Majesty saw anything unusual there in the clock."
Mrs. Danvers received no reply, but when the Queen
slowly and mechanically turned towards her, the dazed
and death-like look in Her Majesty's face caused the
woman to cry out in alarm, when help coming, the
Sovereign was immediately taken to bed.

Two letters are extant regarding that eventful day.
The first, evidently penned in the morning before the
Queen's condition had caused alarm, was sent by Lady
Masham to Dean Swift. In this she says, " I was
resolved to stay till I could tell you that our Queen
has got so far the better of the Dragon, as to take her
power out of his hands. He has been the most

534 ftbe (Queen's Comrabe

ungrateful man to her, and to all his best friends
that ever was born. I cannot have much time now to
write all my mind, for my dear mistress is not well,
and I think I may lay her illness to the charge of
the lord treasurer, who for three weeks together was
vexing and teasing her without intermission ; she could
not get rid of him till Tuesday last." She then trusts
that the Dean, who has given such wise advice will not
go into Ireland, and she continues, " No, it is im-
possible; your charity and compassion for this poor
lady who has been barbarously used, will not let you
do it. I know you take great delight to help the
distressed, and there cannot be a greater object than
this good lady who deserves pity. ... I could say a
great deal upon this subject, but I must go to her, for
she is not well. This comes to you by a safe hand, so
that neither of us need be in any pain about it."

The second letter is from Peter Wentworth, who
went to Kensington Palace at six in the afternoon
and there heard the unwelcome news of the Queen's
illness. Dr. Arbuthnot came out and gave the com-
pany some details, adding that she felt pain in her
feet, " their being Garlick laid to't wch likewise was
well, and was then gone to sleep. Tis now nine
a clock and I am come home to write you this, but
they tell me there's no judging how the decease will
turn till twelve a clock. I overheard Dr. A. in a
whisper say 'twas ten thousand to one if she recover'd,
wch was dismall to me. The chaplains desir'd the
Queen's servants that were in waiting to come and

IRosal Bpotbecars summonefc 535

pray for the Queen, so I and three or four more
was the whole congregation, the rest of the company,
and there was a great deal of all sorts of Whigs
and Tories, staid in curiousity to hear what they
could pick up."

That evening Her Majesty was in a burning fever,
her mind wandered, and all through the night she
murmured incoherent words about her brother. Four
doctors were summoned, a consultation held, and a
decision arrived at that she should be cupped ; an
operation that seemed to give her relief. Towards
the following morning she had a relapse, when the
royal apothecary was summoned to draw ten ounces
of blood from her arm. Whilst this was being done
a heavy fall was heard through the silent bedchamber,
when Her Majesty starting asked what it was, and
heard with concern it was Lady Masham, " who had
swooned from grief and exhaustion."

Shortly before midday on the 3Oth, the Queen
was seized with pain when it was thought she was
dying ; Dr. Mead emphatically declared she could
not live an hour ; but on the lancet being once more
applied, she regained consciousness. That day the
ministers assembled at the Cockpit, where news of
the Queen's condition was sent by the Duchess of
Ormond to her husband, both of whom were avowed
Jacobites. The council was now crowded by Whig
lords, secretly summoned by Lord Oxford to support
the House of Hanover. In the course of their
deliberations it was agreed that the Duke of Shrews-

VOL. ii. 14

536 TOC (Queen's Comrafce

bury, who had recently become a Whig, should be
recommended to the Queen as Lord Treasurer. Though
this was a blow to Bolingbroke who had hoped to
hold that office himself, he undertook to acquaint
Her Majesty with their decision, to which the dying
woman consented. But the duke would only accept
the post on the condition of the Queen placing its
staff in his hands.

A deputation then waited at the bedside of one
who was to have no peace even in death, and she
was asked if she knew to whom she gave the white
wand of treasurer ; to which she faintly answered
"Yes, to the Duke of Shrewsbury." The Lord
Chancellor then directing her hand, she gave the
staff to his grace, bidding him " For God's sake use
it for the good of my people."

News of the Queen's approaching death spreading
abroad, great consternation was felt by all, not knowing
what to expect. Prayers were offered for Her Majesty
at St. Paul's ; the lord mayor was advised to take
special care of the City ; the trained bands were called
out ; a triple guard stationed at the Tower ; an embargo
laid on all the ports ; ten battalions of troops were
recalled from Flanders ; the Elector of Hanover was
invited to hasten to England ; and a fleet sent to
sea, lest James Stuart might come to claim the throne.
In the royal palace his adherents were beside themselves
with grief and dismay ; the Queen's death at this
time not having been anticipated by them ; for says
Peter Rae, in his " History of the Rebellion," " One

" ©b, /IDs poor SSrotbet " 537

of the Queen's physicians, the most intimate with
her, had pretended by some other art (than physic)
whether of calculation, magic, or other infernal specula-
tions, to tell the great men of the royal household
that the Queen would live six years and a half.
This was certainly a reason why they were the more
secure, and had not their design complete, and all
orders and warrants in readiness for the execution
thereof."

Conclaves were secretly held in Lady Masham's
rooms, tears were shed, and hands were wrung ; for
though Dr. Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, wished
to go out and have James Stuart proclaimed at Charing
Cross, when it was believed that if such a step were
taken, the Duke of Ormond who commanded the
Army would seize the Tower, and strike a blow for
the Jacobite cause, yet all others saw the dire hope-
lessness of such an action which would imperil themselves
without serving him whom they desired for king. And
whilst helpless, woeful, and impatient, they gazed at
each other in mute despair, they could hear the
measured tramp of the Life Guards, called out to sur-
round the palace, and the movements of the heralds
at arms, who waited until the last breath was out of
the Queen, to proclaim the Elector of Hanover as
her successor.

Anxious eyes watched life ebb slowly in Her Majesty
as she lay in a heavy slumber, broken by occasional
moans and the laboured repetition of the same phrase
"Oh my brother — oh my poor brother/* Though

<aueeiVs Comrabe

it was feared nothing could now restore her, Lady
Masham privately sent for Dr. Radcliffe in whose
skill all men had faith. At this time the great
physician was living at Carshalton, suffering severely
from gout ; so he sent word that he was ill and could
not come. Later on he wrote to say, " However,
ill as I was, I would have went to the Queen in a
horse litter, had either Her Majesty, or those in
commission next to her, commanded me so to do ; ' '
adding, "But the people about her — the plagues of
Egypt fall on them — put it out of the power of physic
to be any benefit to her." But the populace who
did not know the cause of his refusal to attend their
Sovereign, were so incensed, that threatening letters
were sent, warning him that " he should be pulled
to pieces if he ventured abroad."

On Saturday morning, July 3ist, 1714, the Queen's
doctors ordered her head to be shaven, but whilst
this was being done she fell into convulsions that
lasted a couple of hours. Later she rallied and was
able to take some nourishment. Amongst those who
crowded round the dying Sovereign, was the Bishop
of London, Dr. Robinson, successor to her tutor
Henry Compton, who some months previously had
injured his head by falling down stairs, an accident
which Swift said left him " as sensible as ever," but
was the means of sending him out of life. Calling
for Dr. Robinson, the Queen held a private conference
with him, the object of which may be gathered from
his answer overheard by the Duchess of Ormond.

Beatb of (Slueen Hnne 539

" Madam," he said to Her Majesty, " I will obey
your commands ; I will declare your mind, but it
will cost me my head." She told him she would
receive the Sacrament next day, but a couple of
hours later she became delirious once more, again
called piteously on her brother, whom her wishes
or commands were now powerless to help, and died
between seven and eight o'clock on the following
morning, Sunday August ist, 1714, in the fiftieth
year of her age.

c< Never was sleep more welcome to a weary
traveller than death to the Queen," wrote Dr.
Arbuthnot, who had been a constant witness to the
disturbances into which she was thrown by the conduct
of her ministers. Both he and another of her devoted
servants, Lady Masham, suffered a severe loss because
Her Majesty had left her will unsigned. She had,
however, whilst conscious, given a sealed bundle of
papers — probably letters from her brother and step-
mother— to the Duchess of Somerset, with directions
to have them burnt. This was handed by her grace
to the Lords Justices, or Regents in charge of the
Government pending the arrival of the King, telling
them of the Queen's desire, when they, not without
some debate, decided to destroy them unread.

On Sunday morning the Elector of Hanover was
declared King of Great Britain and Ireland, under
the title of George I. ; this peaceable proclamation
being witnessed by an enormous concourse of people,
a vast number of the nobility and gentry being present

Ube (Slueen's Gomra&e

in their coaches, all of whom seemed mightily satisfied.
At night there was great rejoicing and fine illumina-
tions ; my Lord Bolingbroke having a vast bonfire
outside his house in Golden Square. " But that may
be out of Policy fearing the mob," says Peter Went-
worth, " but there was no accasion for this precaution,
for King George was proclaimed very Peacably and
everything has continued ever since."

Notwithstanding the general rejoicing at the succes-
sion of George I., Queen Anne was greatly beloved by
the people for her generosity, her mercy, her great
charity, and womanly kindness. For three weeks the
remains of this <c crowned slave," as one historian calls
her, lay in state, and were then taken with great pomp
and laid beside her husband and near her sister in
Henry VII.'s Chapel in Westminster Abbey, the
ceremony taking place on August 24th, 1714.

CHAPTER IX

The Duke of Marlborough returns to London —
Peter Wentworth's Comments on His Entry —
His Grace's First Disappointment — Illness of
Lady Sunderland — Death of Lady Bridgewater —
Introduction to England of Inoculation — Hostility
to the practice by Doctors and Parsons — George I.
lands at Greenwich — Description by an Eye
Witness of His Entry into London — Appointments
at Court and in the Government — The Duchess
and Walpole — Lord Oxford is sent to the Tower —
The Rising in Scotland — Death of Lady Sunder-
land—Her Letter to Her Husband— The Duke of
Marlborough has a Paralytic Stroke — Recovers and
goes to Bath — Letter from Her Grace — Concerning
the building of Blenheim Palace — The Duke is
again attacked by Paralysis — The Duchess takes
Him to Marlborough House — Some Account of
that Residence — Her Grace employs Sir John
Vanbrugh to arrange a Marriage for Her Grand-
daughter with the Duke of Newcastle — Correspon-
dence between Them and Subsequent Quarrel —
Why Lord Oxford was never brought to Trial —
Hatred of the Duchess to the Government— She is
accused of aiding James Stuart — Her Interview
with George I.— His Majesty's Reply to Her Letter.

CHAPTER IX

THE Duke of Marlborough had decided to return
to England previous to the death of Queen
Anne ; for by one of those unforeseen turns in the
wheel of political events, he had recently received
friendly overtures, which he gladly accepted, from
Robert Harley, Lord Oxford, that guaranteed his
safety from exposure or prosecution ; Harley's motive
for this reconciliation lying in his desire to keep well
with one who had gained favour with the Elector of
Hanover, and who could recommend his services and
promote his interests, in case his Electoral Highness
became King of England.

Evidence of their friendship is given in a letter
written by Harley to the duke towards the end of
1713, telling him that a royal warrant for ten thousand
pounds has been granted towards defraying the costs of
building of Blenheim Palace ; and also in a note dated
July 1 4th, 1714, from Viscount Bolingbroke to Lord
Strafford, in which the former says " Lord Marl-
borough's people give out that he is coming over, and
I take it for granted he is so ; whether on account of

543

544 Ube Queen's Comrade

the ill figure he makes on the Continent, or the good
one he hopes to make at home, I shall not determine.
But I have reason to think that some people (Lord
Oxford) who would rather move heaven and earth
than part with their power, or make a right use of
it, have lately made overtures to him, and have entered
into some degree of concert with his creatures."

On the Sunday morning on which the Queen died,
the Duke of Marlborough landed at Dover, when he
and his wife heard that she who had raised them to
be the highest subjects in her kingdom, and who had
placed a regal power in their hands, was no more.
Neither of them betrayed grief or respect ; for three
days later, whilst their benefactress was still unburied,
they made a triumphal entry into London, preceded
by a company of the City Grenadiers, surrounded by
their family and friends, and followed by two hundred
Whigs on horseback. The duke's carriage broke
down at Temple Bar, but he and the duchess getting
into a coach were driven to Marlborough House,
where the Grenadiers fired a volley by way of a
parting salute.

All that evening he was visited by a vast number
who declared themselves staunch Whigs and sturdy
supporters of the House of Hanover ; for news of
his friendly relations with the new King had spread
abroad, and his and their triumph over the Tories
and Jacobites was joyfully celebrated.

But our old friend Peter Wentworth was not
amongst these courtiers, for writing on August 6th,

Disappointment for flfcarlborouob 545

to his brother, he says, " the Duke of Marlborough
was never so much out of favour with me as hes
now at present, for the insulting manner he enter'd
the town, he that used to come so privately when
in favour and with Victory, to suffer himself to be
met with a train of coaches and a troop of Militia
with drums and trumps. He's asham'd of it and says
he beg the City to excuse their complyment but they
wou'd not. Today," continues Peter, " Sir John Pack-
ington mov'd the House that Dr. Ratcleft shou'd be
expelled the house for not coming to the Queen when
sent for, but he was not seconded and so it dropt.
He's a dog and I don't love him for what he did to
the Duke of Gloucester ; but however he has this
to say for himself, that he knew the Queen did not
send for him, and had expressed her aversion to him
in her last illness."

The Duke of Marlborough was fully prepared to
resume his former power in the ministry and at Court ;
but his first disappointment came when he learned
he was not included amongst the lords justices or
regents, who were entrusted with the government of
the kingdom whilst awaiting the King's arrival. While
he was still smarting from this slight, the duchess,
whose long experience of courts had shown her the
disappointments, vexations, and deceptions that attend
ambition, begged of him on her knees, as she says,
that he would never again accept employment. " I
said everybody that liked the Revolution and the
security of the law had a great esteem for him "; she

546 ube Queen's Gomrafce

writes, " that he had a greater fortune than he wanted ;
and that a man who had had such success, with such
an estate, would be of more use to any Court than
they could be of to him ; that I would live civilly
with them, if they were so to me, but would never
put it into the power of any king to use me ill. He
was entirely of this opinion, and determined to quit
all, and serve them only when he could act honestly,
and do his country service at the same time."

Having taken the oaths of allegiance and supremacy
to the new king, whose rival he had so frequently
sworn to support, the Duke and Duchess of Marl-
borough went down to Holywell House at St. Albans,
for which they had often longed whilst abroad. After
a short stay there they set out for Bath, where their
daughter Lady Sunderland, who for some time had
been in failing health, was drinking the waters. Their
meeting must have been deeply painful, for it was
evident to them that an internal ailment from which
she suffered must soon end her life. On the 22nd
of the previous March, 1714, whilst they were still
abroad, their daughter Betty, Lady Bridgewater, had
died of small-pox.

At this time the continual outbursts of this foul
disease, for which English science knew no remedy,
used to sweep thousands annually into their graves,
and sadly disfigure those who recovered from its
attacks. It was only some three years later that
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, whilst travelling in
Turkey with her husband, who was ambassador to the

ELIZABETH CHURCHILL, COUNTESS OF BRIDGEWATER,

Page 546.]

tbe Invention of Jngraftfna 547

Ottoman Court, first heard of a preventative for this
malady from which she had suffered and of which her
brother had died. Writing from Adrianople on
April ist, 1717, she says, "The small-pox, so fatal
and so general amongst us, is here entirely harmless
by the invention of ingrafting, which is the term they
give it."

Then follows a graphic and unpleasant description
of the methods of inoculation, and she ends by saying,
" I am patriot enough to take pains to bring this
useful invention into fashion in England ; and I should
not fail to write to some of our doctors very particu-
larly about it, if I knew any one of them that I thought
had virtue enough to destroy such a considerable branch
of their revenue for the good of mankind. But that
distemper is too beneficial to them not to expose to
all their resentment the hardy wight that should under-
take to put an end to it. Perhaps if I live to return,
I may, however, have the courage to war with them."

Accordingly soon after her arrival in England in
1718, she began to teach and practise inoculation.
As she foresaw, all her courage was needed to endure
the results of this attempt to benefit humanity ; for
the clamours raised against her were beyond belief.
The indignation and bitterness with which the medical
faculty denounced inoculation, was only equalled by
their malicious attacks on mesmerism years later. The
clergy were scarcely less hostile, and from every pulpit
was heard solemn warnings against interference with
the will of God in the chastisements He deigned to

548 zrbe (Queen's Comrade

inflict on His creatures. The mob, no less ignorant,
were taught to hoot her as she passed through the
streets, and abuse her as an unnatural mother who had
risked the lives of her own children by this practice,
borrowed from an infidel and barbarous people. So
that for some four or five years, we are told, Lady
Mary seldom spent a day without repenting of her
patriotic undertaking, " and she vowed she never would
have attempted it, if she had foreseen the vexation,
the persecution, and even the obloquy it brought upon
her."

The duke remained at Bath until news reached him
that His Majesty " was hastening over to employ his
utmost care for putting these kingdoms into a happy
and flourishing condition," on which his grace set out
for London to meet and greet the King. In reality
the new Sovereign — who had neither schemed nor
shown anxiety for his succession, and would never
have left his beloved Hanover if the Jacobites had
risen — had not betrayed any indecent haste to visit the
country he was to rule over, and of whose government,
people, or language he knew nothing. For over a
month and a half had passed since the death of Queen
Anne, before he and his son, afterwards George II.,
landed at Greenwich, where he was welcomed by a
great crowd of ministers, courtiers, bishops, and the
people at large, who were all eagerness to see him.

Amongst them was the late Sovereign's equerry,
Peter Wentworth, who says, " I have the satisfaction
to tell you that we have got our King and Prince

prince promises a verp 6as Court 549

safe and well at St. James ; I gave him my hand
to help him out of the Barge, the Duke of Shrews-
bury presented me to kiss the King's hand, and my
Lord Bathurst mounted me up a pretty Spanish horse
to ride by the King's coach side, so that my Person
is well known to his majesty."

The King and his son were conveyed to St. James's
Palace amidst the roar of cannon, the ringing of bells,
the blare of bands, and the cheers of the mob ; but,
says a quaint letter from a correspondent named Hill,
which is preserved amongst the Lechmere Parkinson
manuscripts, " the procession was not in anything
finner than what we have before had, tho the gentlemen
were well dressd, but for want of ladys there was a
great lose in the shew, as will be at the coronation,
which certainly cant be near so fine as twas at the
poor Queens. When the Princess will come in is un-
certain, tho she was expected at the Hague yesterday,
but the wind is now against her coming over. The
Prince promises the ladys a very gay Court. They
say hes much inclined to that sort of life, plays a
pritty deal but very low. The King has supd with
several of the noblemen. He hates much grandeur,
he goes in a Hackny chair and pays em himself. He
thinks our Court has to much state. His two favourate
turks and Mademosel Killmansect I guese you have
heard of, tho perhapes not of the mistake that one
of them led his Majesty into some nights agoe, when
about nine or ten at night he was going to this
Mademosels, who has a house in St. James St. next

550 Ibe (Queen's Comrafce

door to Lady Renelows, where this confident knocked.
The chair was carried in and opened, but the King
soon saw his mistake, set himself down and ordered
to the next house. Whether it proved a jest to him
I dont hear, but a very good one it has bin to the
town and the Lady withall is very ugley."

For many days after His Majesty's arrival at St.
James's Palace nothing was seen but bustle and ap-
parent rejoicing ; courtiers in their best apparel, and
finest wigs, with blandest smiles, pressing forward
through the royal apartments, all of them eager to bend
their knees, kiss His Majesty's hand, and gain his smiles.
For now hopes and fears rose and fell, and envy,
malice, jealousy, and ambition burned in men's brains,
when Ministers were to be made, the great offices of
the Court filled, loyal adherents rewarded, and all
supporters of the Stuarts punished.

Accordingly the Duke of Shrewsbury was made
Lord Chamberlain ; the Duke of Somerset, Master
of the Horse ; the Duke of Devonshire, Lord High
Steward ; Lord Wharton was given the Privy Seal ;
Lord Townshend was entrusted with the formation
of the Government, and Sir Robert Walpole was made
Paymaster of the Forces. The Duke of Marlborough,
notwithstanding his wife's advice, accepted the post
of Captain-General and Master of the Ordnance ; his
son-in-law Lord Godolphin had his former post of
Cofferer to the Court restored to him ; Lord Bridge-
water was made Chamberlain to the Prince ; the Duke
of Montagu was given a company in the first regiment

"Scounbrel anb ipupps anfc iknave" 55*

of Guards ; but the duke's remaining son-in-law, who
had not been included amongst the regents, "having
been too violent and too odious to a great part of
the nation," was made Lord-Lieutenant in Ireland,
which was considered a kind of honourable banishment
from affairs of state. In those days it was not con-
sidered necessary that the Viceroy should reside in the
sister isle, and the fact remains that Lord Sunderland
never crossed the Channel. In October, 1715, he
exchanged his Lord-Lieutenancy for the office of Lord
of the Privy Seal, and joined Lord Townshend in his
opposition to the Prince of Wales, who used to speak
of my Lord Sunderland as " that scoundrel and puppy
and knave."

We have it on the authority of Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu that the Duke of Maryborough, " who was
making almost the same figure at Court that he did
when he first came into it — I mean bowing and smiling
in the ante-chamber, while Townshend was in the
closet — was not however pleased with Walpole, who
began to behave to him with the insolence of new
favour; and his duchess, who never restrained her
tongue in her life, used to make public jokes of the
beggary she first knew him in, when her caprice
gave him a considerable place, against the opinion of
Lord Godolphin and the Duke of Maryborough."

Whilst those who were fortunate enough to make
their loyalty to the House of Hanover apparent, were
reaping high rewards, those who were known to have
intrigued with James Stuart suffered ; for the Duke

VOL. n. 15

552 trbe (Sheen's Comrafce

of Ormond was forbidden to enter the royal presence,
and he and Viscount Bolingbroke quitted the country
in time to escape the fate of Lord Oxford, who was
sent to the Tower on a charge of high treason. The
two former entered the service of the Court of St.
Germains, and were outlawed and attainted. They
then opened up a correspondence with the Jacobites
in England, and as in the last reign, secret negotiations
were carried on to place the King over the water,
on the throne. These endeavours resulted in the
rising in Scotland, where James Stuart landed in
December 1715, was proclaimed King, and made
preparations for his coronation at Scone, where his
royal Scottish ancestors had been crowned.

His hopes of sovereignty were brief, for the rising
was quickly suppressed by the army acting under the
directions of the Duke of Marlborough as Commander-
in-Chief; and James Stuart, hurrying on board a
French vessel, left his faithful Scottish adherents to
disperse and hide themselves in the Highlands. The
complete defeat of the Prince he had so often pro-
mised to support, was chiefly due to the Duke of
Marlborough, whose instructions General Cadogan had
carried out.

Peace was scarcely restored when a blow fell on the
Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, which was not the
less keen because expected; for on April I5th, 1716,
their daughter Anne, Countess of Sunderland, died.
Her loss was the greater because she was the only one
of their children who could check her mother's violent

Sunfcerlan&'s B^fng Misbes 553

temper and soften her harsh ways. The tact, for-
bearance, and gentleness by which this was done, had
often been exercised to prevent the duchess and her
son-in-law from coming to an open rupture ; for he
was not merely aggressive and intolerant, irritable and
dictatorial, but he lived with an extravagance beyond
his means, and spent money at the gambling table
which should have gone to make provision for his
children ; faults which the duchess was not likely to
overlook in silence.

Though, according to Lord Dartmouth, the Earl of
Sunderland was " universally odious," his patient and
gentle wife loved him, as may be judged from the
letter she wrote to him some six months previous to
her death, which was not to be opened until that
event had happened. In this she says, " I have always
found it so tender a subject (to you my dear) to talk
of my dying, that I have chose rather to leave my
mind in writing, which, though very insignificant, is
some ease to me. Your dear self and the dear children
are my only concern in this world ; I hope in God you
will find comfort for the loss of a wife I am sure you
loved too well not to want a great deal."

She continues by begging he will be careful not to
live beyond his means, a matter she could not with all
her care, quite prevent ; and she warns him against his
love of play.

"As to the children," she adds, "pray get my mother
to take care of the girls, and if I leave any boys
too little to go to school ; for to be left to servants

554 Ube (Queen's Comrade

is very bad for children, and a man can't take the care
of little children that a woman can. For the love
that she has for me, and the duty that I have ever
showed her, I hope she will do it, and be ever kind
to you, who was dearer to me than my life. Pray
take care to see the children married with a prospect
of happiness, for in that you will show your kindness
to me ; and never let them want education or money
while they are young." Special instructions are given
regarding her eldest son Lord Spencer. c< I beg of
you," she writes, " to spare no expense to improve
him, and to let him have an allowance for his pocket,
to make him easy. You have had five thousand
pounds of the money that you know was mine, which
my mother gave me yearly ; whenever you can, let him
have the income of that for his allowance, if he has
none any other way. And don't be as careless of the
dear children as when you relied upon me to take care
of them, but let them be your care tho' you should
marry again ; for your wife may wrong them, when
you don't mind it."

This letter was sent by Lord Sunderland to the
Duchess of Marlborough, who cried bitterly on reading
it, and who readily promised to carry out its requests ;
at the same time asking that she might have " some
little trifle that my dear child used to wear in her pocket
or anywhere else." In thanking the duchess for her
intentions, her son-in-law said, <c I thought as soon
as I found that precious dear letter, I ought in justice
to send it to you, that you might see the desires of

ANNE CHURCHILL, COUNTESS OF SUNDERLAND.

Page 555.]

"1ber Griefs soon wear off" 555

that dear dear angel, and at the same time have the
comfort and satisfaction of seeing that, out of your
own tenderness and goodness, you have resolved to
do all she desired in it, even before you had seen
it. The tenderness expressed in that dear letter
towards me, is a fresh instance of the greatness of my
loss and misfortune. This is too moving to say more
of it. I am the unhappiest man living, I feel it and
shall ever feel it."

Lady Cowper, wife of the lord chancellor, and Lady
of the Bedchamber to the Princess of Wales, mentions
in her interesting diary which gives many delightful
views of the Court and courtiers at this time, that
she was so grieved by Lady Sunderland's death, that
she could do nothing but cry wherever she went.
" Everybody concerned for Lady Sunderland," she
continues. " The Duchess of Marlborough mightily
afflicted, but her Griefs soon wear off. The duchess
lived as ill in Reality, though not in Appearance, with
Lady Sunderland as with any of her Children. They
all hated her, and though outwardly Lady Sunderland
carried it fair, yet it was in such a Manner that the
Duchess perceived it was for Interest only, and despised
her for it."

In the early part of this year the Duke of Marl-
borough, who had suffered from distressing headaches
all his life, was now so unwell that his wife writes
she was unwilling to trust him by himself in the
frequent journeys which he made from his country
house to London. The death of his favourite daughter

556 Ube (Queen's Comrafce

in April, terribly depressed him and whilst mourning
her loss, he was seized with a paralytic stroke which
for a time deprived him of speech and sense. This
took place on May 28th, when he was at St. Albans,
to which place Dr. Garth was quickly summoned.

Efforts to restore him were successful and he soon
recovered. The duchess was a devoted if not a gentle
nurse, who domineered over her patient and his
doctor. It was on this occasion that Garth, of whom
it was said " no physician knew his art more, nor his
trade less," begged that the duke would take some
medicine which he disliked. " Do," urged the duchess,
" for I'll be hanged if it do not prove serviceable."
" Then do take it my lord duke," said Garth quickly,
" for it must be of service one way or the other."

Early in the month of July, the duke was well
enough to be removed to Bath, where he was
recommended to drink the waters. After having
spent seven days on the road, he reached the city on
the 1 4th of the month and was warmly received by
the mayor and aldermen, with ringing of bells, the
congratulations of the people of quality and fashion,
and the cheers of the public ; much to his gratification
and that of the duchess. Here his tall but now
slightly stooped figure, wrapped in a cloak, might be
seen walking up and down the parade, enjoying the
morning sunshine, his wife beside him. Towards
midday he drank the waters in the pump room in
company of a number of distinguished invalids suffering
from gout, asthma, or excess ; whilst in the evening

Sixpence a Game 557

he joined the card parties of his friends and enjoyed
a game whose stakes were not extravagant.

His usual stake was sixpence a game, as we learn
from one of Spence's anecdotes, which relates that
one day when the great duke had played piquet with
Dean Jones for a good while, his grace rose from
the table when winner of one game. Some time after
he desired the dean to pay him his sixpence, but the
parson said he had no silver. Not satisfied with this,
the duke asked for his money over and over, and
suggested that the dean might change a guinea and
give him sixpence which he wanted to pay for the
chair that carried him home. " The dean," continues
the story " after so much pressing did at last get
change, paid the duke his sixpence, observed him a
little after leave the room, and declares that after
all the bustle that had been made for his sixpence,
the duke actually walked home, to save the little
expense a chair would have put him to."

On this visit to Bath the duke and duchess took
with them their eldest granddaughter, Lady Harriet
Godolphin, whom as the duchess plainly says, she was
anxious to dispose of. Accordingly, whilst the duke
amused himself with basset or his favourite game of
whist, the duchess and her granddaughter were carried
in their chairs to the Assembly Rooms, where beaux
in laced frills, satin breeches, and velvet coats, and
belles in towering head dresses, low cut gowns, and
hooped skirts, danced minuets to the dulcet sounds
of fiddles and flutes, and flirted outrageously ; their

558 ube (Slueen's Comrade

elders meanwhile sitting against the walls whispering
scandal behind fans, or taking prodigious pinches
of snuff as preliminaries of telling some wicked
story.

The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough being
greatly dissatisfied with the ministry in which he had
no place, a scheme was entered into between him and
other malcontents to oust it from power ; when he
once more began to intrigue with his old friends the
Tories, holding conferences and meetings with them
at Lord Carnarvon's house. His sudden illness had
interrupted his designs, but when he began to recover,
Lady Cowper tells us, the schemers flocked to Bath,
" for though the duke could not advise he could
lend his name and purse, both which the duchess
governed (a pleasure to her, who loved power even
more than the duke). Lord Sunderland came for his
instructions twice or thrice before he went away"
(to Hanover where George I. was then staying), " and
nothing was talked of at Bath but the great things
that were to be done when the King came over. The
Court meanwhile was lulled asleep by the report of
the Duke of Marlborough's illness. People did not
so much as remember the taste the duchess had for
government, and that having the duke's purse at
command, she could do that which the duke's love
of money would never permit him to do ; and 'tis
no wonder Sunderland was so devoted to her, since
he was so well paid for it ; for since this illness she
got the duke to alter his will and take everything

Concern for Xa&s Cowper's Ibealtb 559

from my Lady Godolphin he could hinder her of, and
leave the bulk of his estate to Sunderland and his
children."

Writing on September 3rd, 1716, to the lady of
the bedchamber who gives the above details, the
Duchess of Marlborough says her husband is better,
though " he wants a good deal yet of being well."
However, she has great hope of his recovery, as
she hears every day of people who were worse but
who regained their health by drinking the waters.
Lady Grandison was one instance. " She told me
the other day that she understood or spoke but very
little for a great while, and one of her hands was
dead and withered, which is now filled out like the
other, and nobody would think she ever had the
palsy."

The duchess continues by expressing her concern
for the account she hears of Lady Cowper's health,
" which I have always feared would not be mended
by being at Court. I don't wonder that you find it
melancholy to be away from your lord and children ;
for though the Princess is very easy and obliging,
I think any one that has common sense or honesty
must needs be very weary of everything one meets
with in Courts. I have seen a good many and lived
in them many years, but I protest I was never pleased
but when I was a child, and after I had been a maid
of honour for some time, at fourteen, I wished myself
out of the Court, as much as I had desired to come
into it before I knew what it was."

560 tTbe (Slueen's Comrafce

This letter ends by saying " Her grace of Shrews-
bury is here, and of a much happier temper. She plays
at ombre upon the Walks, that she may be sure to have
company enough, and is as well pleased in a great crowd
of strangers as the common people are with a bull-
baiting or a Mountebank." The duchess complains of
the dirt and odours of Bath, which are worse than any
that came under her experiences abroad ; whilst the
noise keeps her almost always awake. But " I can bear
it with patience and all other misfortunes," says she,
" as long as I think the waters do the Duke of
Marlborough any good."

The duke was so much benefited by his stay that he
was able to leave Bath by the middle of October, when
he went to Blenheim, that he might gratify himself with
a sight of the palace which had been raised to his
honour, but which was yet uninhabitable. The impres-
sion it gave to the duchess was, that it would require a
great many thousand pounds to finish a house which
was as yet a mere shell ; " besides all without doors,
where there is nothing done, and is a chaos that turns
one's brains but to think of it ; and it will cost an
immense sum to complete the causeway, and that
ridiculous bridge, in which I counted thirty-three rooms.
Four houses are to be at each corner of the bridge ; but
that which makes it so much prettier than London
bridge is, that you may set in six rooms and look out
at window into the high arch, while the coaches are
driving over your head."

The building of Blenheim Palace had been suspended

Second Httacfe of paralysis 561

since 1712, when the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough
had fallen under the displeasure of the late Sovereign ;
and the ten thousand pounds which, as already mentioned,
Harley in his desire to conciliate his grace had obtained
from the treasury, had been given in part payment of
the sums due to the workmen and contractors. On
the duke's return he hoped the new King would order
the palace to be finished at the public expense ; but
whilst unwilling to do this, the Government agreed to
pay all arrears for labour and materials incurred whilst
the building was carried on at the cost of Her late
Majesty ; when nothing was left for the duke but to
finish it at his own expense, which was accordingly
done. Altogether the public money expended on the
palace amounted to £240,000 ; whilst its completion
cost the duke and duchess some £60,000 more; making
in all £300,000.

On the Government coming to the decision mentioned,
the duke received an estimate for finishing the building
from its architect, Sir John Vanbrugh, whom he
summoned to meet him at Blenheim, and gave him
directions to set his people to work at the palace ;
whilst the duchess " was pleased to express herself in
the most favourable and obliging manner " concerning
him, as he relates.

The duke and duchess then went to Holy well House
at St. Albans, where on November loth he was seized
with a second attack of paralysis, of so severe a nature
that the three doctors who attended him, thought his
end was near, when all his family were summoned to

562 ube djueen's Gomrafce

bid him farewell. However his grace rallied once
more, and though from this time his speech was
affected, and his health quite broken, he lived for some
years. Instead of keeping the stricken man from the
pitying sight of the people, and allowing him to remain
in the country home he loved, surrounded by the grand-
children who were now his chief interest and delight,
the duchess took him with her to London ; for she still
desired to mix with the world, be in touch with the
Court, triumph over her enemies, hector her friends,
and advance her schemes ; and there can be little doubt
that she felt heartily glad the King had not agreed to
buy Marlborough House, which on His Majesty's first
coming over, the duke, according to Peter Wentworth,
had pressed him to purchase for the Prince of Wales ;
telling him as an inducement, how easily it could be
joined to St. James's Palace.

Though Marlborough House, at this time shut
in on either side by a grove of chestnut trees, its
west front open to the gardens of the palace, its south
to the park then private, would have been a suitable
residence for the heir to the Crown, the King felt
no inclination to buy it. In the same year 1714,
we learn from the Weekly Post, that the duke had
lent it to the Prince and Princess of Wales, probably
whilst they were looking out for a dwelling. " It
is said," continues this statement, " that a terrace will
be erected to join the same (Marlborough House)
to St. James's Palace."

It was not until more than a hundred years later, in

/IDarlborou0fo fbouse 563

1817, that Marlborough House reverted to the Crown.
It was then given to the Princess Charlotte, daughter
of George IV., as a residence, and after her premature
death in November of that year, was occupied for
some years by her husband Prince Leopold of Coburg.
On the death of William IV. in 1837, it was settled
by Act of Parliament on the Dowager Queen Adelaide.
After her demise it was lent to the Government School
of Design, the founder and forerunner of the South
Kensington Museum and Art Schools ; whilst later on
the Turner pictures and the Vernon collection were
exhibited within its walls. Ultimately in 1861 it
was thoroughly renovated, when it became the town
residence of King Edward VII., then Prince of Wales.
Whilst this process was going on, coats of paint and
layers of wall paper were removed from the walls
of the great hall and principal staircases, when pictures
painted by Laguerre, representing battle scenes in
which the first Duke of Marlborough had been
victorious, were found underneath, in an excellent state
of preservation.

Amongst other designs with which the duchess
busied herself at this time, was that of marrying
Lady Harriet Godolphin, whose plainness was com-
pensated for by her brightness and intelligence. Early
in 1714, the duchess had set herself to dispose of
this granddaughter, selecting for her husband, Pelham
Holies, then Lord Clare, but soon afterwards Duke
of Newcastle. Whether Lady Harriet liked or dis-
liked him, was a mere detail which could not be

564 ZTbe (Queen's

expected to influence her imperious grandmother's
choice ; and it is doubtful if those whom she intended
to marry, had ever seen each other at this time.

Knowing that Sir John Vanbrugh was a friend
of the Duke of Newcastle, she commissioned the
architect to open negotiations with, and incline his
grace " to prefer my Lady Harriet Godolphin to all
other women who were likely to be offered him " ;
whilst at the same time " she laid a very great and
very just stress on the extraordinary qualifications
and personal merits of my Lady Harriet," whom she
thought in all respects a young woman most likely
to make him happy.

Sir John Vanbrugh, who as playwright and a wit,
a gossip and a beau, enjoyed the favour and com-
panionship of the great, and was anxious to merit
their favour, willingly engaged to carry out her grace's
wishes ; when it was agreed that the affair should be
managed in such a manner as not to give the Duke
of Newcastle the uneasiness of sending any message
to her grace, in case he did not like the proposal.
Accordingly when opportunity offered, Sir John told
the duchess, he " brought into discourse the characters
of several women, that I might have a natural occasion
to bring in hers, which I have then dwelt a little upon,
and in the best manner I could, distinguished her from
the others. This," continues the match maker, " I
have taken three or four occasions to do, without
the least appearance of having any view in it, thinking
the rightest thing I could do would be to possess

"3 woulfc pawne Hll flhv Sfcill" 565

him with a good impression of her, before I hinted
at anything more. I can give your grace no further
accounts of the effect of it, than that he seemed to
allow of the merit I gave her."

The Duke of Newcastle, however, ventured to say,
though in a very gentle manner, that he wished Lady
Harriet's appearance equalled the descriptions of her
understanding ; on which Sir John gave it as his
opinion, that although he believed she would never
have a beautiful face, he could see plainly it would
prove a very agreeable one, which he thought in-
finitely more satisfactory ; adding further, " that her
shape and figure in general would be perfectly well ;
and that I would pawne all my skill (which had used
to be employed a good deal in these kind of observa-
tions) that in two years' time no woman in town would
be better liked."

His grace agreed that what was said might very
probably be right ; and was inclined to think that
Lady Harriet might make him a suitable wife, especially
as the hopes of having children descended from the
Duke of Marlborough had an extraordinary weight
with him. As for her plainness he was willing to
overlook that defect, his ideas regarding a helpmate
being most unusual with those of his age and position.
" He had made," writes Vanbrugh, " more observations
on the bad education of the ladies of the Court and
towne than any one would have expected, and owned
he shou'd think of marriage with much more pleasure
than he did, if he cou'd find a woman (fit for him

566 Ube (Slueen's Comrade

to marry) that had such a turn of understanding,
temper, and behaviour, as might make her a usefull
friend, as well as an agreeable companion ; but of
such a one he seemed almost to despair."

The came Sir John's opportunity to insinuate that
my Lady Harriet was happily the very sort of woman
he so much desired, and thought it so difficult to
find. The duke so far agreed with him, that civil
things were said about the alliance, and the question
of her fortune broached, his grace demanding a portion
of forty thousand pounds. At this the Duchess of
Marlborough flew into a rage, declaring that such
a proposal was the most effectual way of ending the
business, "since Lady Harriet is not a citizen nor
a monster, and I never heard of such a fortune in
any other case, unless now and then, when it happens
that there is but one child."

This seemed to end the negotiations, and Lady
Harriet was' taken to Bath, where a considerable
offer was made for her " and in a very valuable
family " where the duchess could have had her own
conditions ; but this was refused. There happened,
however, to be a certain Mr. Walters at Bath, where
her grace met him for the first time. Learning that
he was a friend of the Duke of Newcastle's, she
thought it " not unnatural and not unreasonable "
that she should own to him how much she wished
an alliance between her granddaughter and his grace.
The rest was deferred until they met in town. Mean-
while the Duke of Newcastle summoned Sir John

flfcarrta^e IKle^otiations 5^7

Vanbrugh to Claremont, that he might ask if he
had anything further to say of Lady Harriet, what
he had learned of her conduct and behaviour at Bath,
what he had observed of her at Blenheim, and "if
I knew anything that could reasonably abate of
the extraordinary impression I had given him of her,
I would have that regard to the greatest concern of
his life not to hide it from him, for that if he marryed
her, his happiness would be entirely determined by
her answering or not answering the character he had
received of her from me, and upon which he solely
depended."

On hearing Sir John's answer his grace came once
more " to an absolute resolution of treating," and
asked what the duchess had said about the fortune.
He was told that her grace had not mentioned a word
of the match to Sir John whilst at Blenheim, which
greatly surprised the duke, who then related what had
passed between herself and Mr. Walters. Vanbrugh
was naturally surprised and indignant that the duchess
had treated him in so unfriendly a manner, after
employing him for the past two years in striving to
bring about a marriage, and at a time when his
endeavours seemed likely to succeed. The duke,
who did not know her so well, was equally astonished ;
but hoped Sir John would still endeavour to promote
the match. Accordingly Vanbrugh wrote a very civil
letter to the Duchess of Marlborough, stating his
grace's desire, and telling her how surprised both were
to find nothing had been said to him about the

VOL. ii. 16

568 Ube (Sheen's Comrafce

marriage whilst at Blenheim. He ended by telling
her, " I don't say this madam to court being further
employed in this matter, for match-making is a damned
trade, and I never was fond of meddling with other
people's affairs. But as in this, on your own motion,
and at your own desire, I had taken a good deal of
very hearty pains to serve you, and I think with a
view of good success, I cannot but wonder (though
not be sorry) you should not think it right to
continue your commands upon your obedient humble
servant."

He then returned to town, where a certain Mr.
Richards showed him a packet of papers in which her
grace " had given herself the trouble," as he writes,
to make a series of charges against him, covering
thirty sheets of paper, and beginning from the time
when he was first employed to build Blenheim, These
charges ended by saying he had brought the Duke of
Marlborough into the unhappy condition of either
leaving the palace unfinished, or by continuing it, to
distress his fortune and deprive his grandchildren of
the provision he desired to make them.

This was too much for Vanbrugh to bear with
patience, so he wrote the duchess a letter saying
" These papers, madam, are so full of far-fetched
laboured accusations, mistaken facts, wrong inferences,
groundless jealousies, and strained constructions, that I
should put a very great affront upon your understanding
if I supposed it possible you could mean anything in
earnest by them, but to put a stop to my troubling you

"Sorts 5 foab fouled As jffnaers" 569

any more. You have your end madam, for I will
never trouble you more, unless the Duke of Marl-
borough recovers so far to shelter me from such
intolerable treatment."

The duchess had already written but not forwarded
a reply to his previous letter dated November 6th,
1716, telling him it was unreasonable that he should
object to her employment of Mr. Walters, and that
he, Sir John, should have spoken of the marriage when
they met at Blenheim. Without destroying this fairly
civil answer, she added a postscript to it on getting
his second letter, which said, " Upon the receiving
that very insolent letter upon the eighth of the same
month, 'tis easy to imagine that I wished to have
had the civility I expressed in this letter back again,
and was very sorry I had fouled my fingers in writing
to such a fellow."

This quarrel between Sir John and the duchess did
not prevent the marriage of Lady Harriet Godolphin
and the Duke of Newcastle. The bride brought him
a fortune of twenty-two thousand pounds, but she gave
him no children.

All this time Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford, was
still in the Tower, where he had been sent, according
to Swift, at the instigation of the Duchess of Marl-
borough, whose hatred for the late Minister and
sometime abettor of Abigail, knew no measure. After
a confinement of two years, on a charge of high treason
and other crimes and misdemeanours, amongst which
were " giving evil advice to the late Queen and

570 wbe <aueen's Comrat>e

favouring the cause of the Pretender,'' he petitioned
in May 1717, to have his case taken into consideration.
His desire was granted, and on the 24th of the following
month his trial was begun in Westminster Hall. But
no sooner had Hampden opened the charges against
him, than Lord Harcourt moved that they should
adjourn to the House of Lords, which being done, a
resolution was passed that the " Commons be not
admitted to proceed in order to make good the articles
against Robert, Earl of Oxford, for high crimes and
misdemeanors, till judgment be first given on the
articles for high treason."

The two Houses disagreed on the method of pro-
cedure, and various conferences were held, at which,
though he did not take part in the debates, the
Duke of Marlborough voted in favour of Harley's
prosecution, and as his biographer, Archdeacon Coxe,
says, u ranked with the most hostile opponents of the
impeached minister." No doubt his grace considered
he was quite safe in revenging himself on one to
whom he largely attributed his downfall in the
previous reign, and to whom he owed his banish-
ment ; for Harley's grandson, who became Arch-
bishop of York, told the historian, Sir John Dairy mple,
that soon after her return to England, the Duchess
of Marlborough contrived to get hold of and destroy
the letter that had sent her husband into exile,
which was found amongst the papers of the imprisoned
earl.

Eventually, on July ist, the date appointed for the

Ube Jmpeacbefc peer 571

continuance of the trial, no prosecutor appeared, when
the impeachment was dismissed, and Lord Oxford
acquitted of high treason and other crimes and
misdemeanours.

The cause of this unexpected result is given with
great minuteness in the Biografhia Britannica on the
authority of a contemporary, Mr. Serjeant Comyns,
who afterwards became Chief Baron of the Exchequer.
According to him, he and Lord Harley, eldest son of
Lord Oxford, waited one day on the Duke of Marl-
borough, to beg that he would attend the trial on
July ist, of the impeached peer. Somewhat disturbed
at this request that seemed made for an ominous
purpose, his grace nervously asked what Lord Oxford
wanted of him, when Serjeant Comyns replied it was
merely to ask him a question or two. At this the
duke's agitation increased, and he made more particular
enquiries as to why his presence was desired ; when
Lord Harley told him he would be asked to certify
to his own handwriting ; adding that his father, Lord
Oxford, had in his possession all the letters he had
received from his grace since the Revolution ; the
inference being that these were treasonable to the
House of Hanover.

The duke then became so agitated that he not only
walked up and down the room, but pulled off his wig and
flung it away. When the unwelcome visitors enquired
what reply they would carry back to Lord Oxford,
the duke quickly answered " Tell his lordship I shall
certainly be there." The anecdote concludes by saying

572 zrbe (Queen's Comtabe

that " this is the true reason why Lord Oxford was
never brought to trial."

His case which was the sensation of the day, was
soon forgotten in the universal excitement caused by
the South Sea scheme, originally introduced by Harley,
but revived by his enemy Lord Sunderland, who in
1718, had become First Lord of the Treasury. The
scheme was floated for the purpose of paying off part
of the national debt, by the formation of a company
which would have a monopoly of the trade in the South
Pacific. Lord Cowper later denounced this South Sea
Bubble, as it came to be called, "as contrived for
treachery, ushered in by fraud, received with pomp,
but big with ruin and destruction." Whilst its
magnificent promises dazzled and duped all classes, the
Duchess of Marlborough, always shrewd and proverbially
lucky in monetary affairs, sold out when stock was at
its highest, and realised one hundred thousand pounds
by this bubble which ruined thousands and fell as a
calamity on the nation. But though benefiting by the
scheme, she clamoured for the prosecution of its
promoters and patrons, who were her political enemies.

From his close connection with this disastrous affair,
his making one of a ministry she detested, and above
all because of his third marriage with a woman she
considered unsuitable to him in age and family, the
duchess became bitterly hostile to her son-in-law Lord
Sunderland, who in return detested her, and many and
wrathful were the letters which passed between them.

Neither her own advancing years nor her husband's

tTbe Bucbess Hccusefc of plotting 573

declining health brought her any desire for peace or
retirement ; for her mind still busied itself with political
affairs, and her tongue was as acid and active as of old,
in decrying the government she detested. Amongst its
members whom, next to her son-in-law, she delighted to
abuse, were Lord Cadogan, whom later she accused of
striving to appropriate part of a sum of money given
him to invest ; Mr. Secretary Craggs, who she
believed had written her an anonymous letter full of
scurrilous charges ; and Lord Stanhope, who she
thought was anxious to fill her husband's posts.
Wherever she went, whoever she saw, it was her custom
to abuse and traduce them, in return for which, they,
as she considered, entered into a plot to ruin her in the
eyes of His Majesty. For it soon became whispered
abroad that the duchess, discontented and disappointed
with the existing order of things, was implicated in a
treasonable scheme to place James Stuart on the throne.
Nothing could more effectually injure her in the eyes
of royalty, nothing could so thoroughly rouse her
anger than such a report. She, however, kept it from
her husband, and he first heard of it from Lord
Sunderland, who sending for him, plainly accused the
duchess of being in a plot to aid the King over the
water, by furnishing him with a round sum. The poor
duke, who never knew what extravagant step his in-
judicious consort might take, returned home in fear
and excitement which she endeavoured to soothe.
However the full gravity of the situation came home to
her when a few days later she was told, that both she

574 Ube (SSlueen's Comrabe

and her husband had been denounced to the King as
intriguers against his throne.

Her first step was to judge for herself the effect that
this statement had on His Majesty, and accordingly she
attended the next drawingroom. Since the arrival of
the royal family, she and the duke had been received by
them with distinction and friendliness ; and she had, as
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu says, " a nearer view of
them than perhaps it was prudent to give her ; for at
their outset, wishing to conciliate the Marl borough
party, they invited her to a degree of intimacy sure to
end in proving the truth of that wise saying about
familiarity, which we can all remember to have indited
in round hand."

The duchess used to tell an amusing anecdote of
what happened one day when she entered the royal
nursery, where she found the Princess of Wales main-
taining discipline, and one of the children roaring
piteously in consequence. Her grace strove to console
the smarting youngster, on which the Prince cried out,
" Ay see there, you English are none of you well bred,
because you was not whipt when you was young." " I
thought to myself," the duchess used to say, c< I am sure
you could not have been whipt when you were young,
but I choked it in."

On presenting herself at the royal drawing-room, she
was received with marked coldness. Though the King
could speak no English, and the duchess no language
but her own, they had formerly exchanged bows and
smiles, nods and friendly glances ; now, however, His

/iDabame Scbulenbera 575

Majesty's countenance was stern when turned towards
her, and she could find no kindness shining in his eyes.
Willing, nay eager to set this down to accident, fickle-
ness, or to the effects of fatigue, she again attended a
drawing-room, but met with the same stern treatment
from His Majesty. She then resolved to vindicate
herself of the charge of treason, and wrote a letter
to the King which she had translated into French for
his benefit. She next sought a private interview with
His Majesty through the favour of Madame Schulen-
berg, recently created Duchess of Kendal, one of his
German mistresses.

This member of the seraglio, which as Horace
Walpole says, so highly diverted the London mob
and was food for gross lampoons, had been a lady-in-
waiting on the Princess Sophia, when the future King
became enamoured of her ; and for twenty years
previous to his coming to England, Madame Schulen-
berg remained his favourite. On his being called to
the throne, she had refused to take " the terrible
journey " to the country whose people, she had heard,
were so accustomed to use their kings barbarously,
that she feared they might chop off her lover's head in
the first fortnight, and perhaps force her to the same
horrible fate. Accordingly she, whom Lord Chester-
field said was very little above an idiot, remained at
Hanover, until the Germans who had come over with
the King, becoming jealous of the money greedily
accumulated by Madame Kilmansegg, another of His
Majesty's mistresses, begged that Schulenberg would

576 ztbe (SlueeiVs Comtat>£

hasten over ; telling her of the fond reception all Germans
met with in England, and of the immense fortune
that awaited her. Such a temptation as this could not
be resisted, and the journey was made. Though she
had been content with a small pension in her own
country, she soon began to amass money in this : her
hands being ever open to bribery, and her judgment
becoming skilled regarding the prices of places and
offices. She had already accepted eleven thousand
pounds from Viscount Bolingbroke, to obtain for him
forgiveness from the King, and permission to return
to England ; and there is little doubt the Duchess of
Marlborough had paid for the favour granted by
Madame Schulenberg, who was as Sir Robert Walpole
said, " as much Queen of England as ever any was."

Accordingly one day in December 1720, the
Duchess of Marlborough was introduced into the private
apartments of the Duchess of Kendal to await the
King. His Majesty's mistress, who was this time over
sixty, and was tall and gaunt, with rounded shoulders
and a yellow complexion, entertained her visitor until
the door suddenly opened and the King entered — an
elderly man with a pale face, and dull expression,
wearing a dark tie wig, a coat, waistcoat, and breeches
of snuff-coloured cloth, with the blue riband of the
Garter on his breast. To him Her Grace of Marl-
borough made a profound courtesy, and then as she
could not speak French, she merely handed him the
letter written in that language, and bowing once
more, quitted the room.

Ube Bucbess writes to tTbe Ikfna 577

The letter began by saying that her personal applica-
tion to him would have been avoided, if her husband's
health had permitted him to lay her complaint before
His Majesty. She thought that nothing in the world
seemed so incredible as that, after all the trouble and
danger she had been exposed to in her zeal for the
King and his family, she could be supposed to enter
into a correspondence with his greatest enemy, who
must look upon her and the duke as objects of his
highest resentment.

"Your majesty will readily believe," said she, " that
it was with the greatest astonishment that I learned I
had been represented to your majesty as being guilty
of so black and foolish a crime. 'Tis with inexpressible
concern that I have borne the thoughts of it for a few
days ; and therefore I am forced to beg that your
majesty, out of compassion as well as justice, would be
pleased to afford me an opportunity of vindicating
myself from so groundless and cruel an accusation.
This I am ready to do in such a manner as shall seem
most proper to your majesty's great wisdom, till which
time I cannot help accounting myself the most unhappy
of all your majesty's faithful subjects."

The Duchess of Kendal had asked her to return and
receive her answer to this letter, so different in its
terms of respect and humility from those she had
written to Queen Anne ; but her grace refused on the
plea that she could not speak French ; but in reality,
as must be plain to all, that she might receive an
assurance from the King under his own hand, that he

578 tTbe (Sfcueen's Comrafce

held her innocent of conspiring against him. His letter
came in good time, but was far from what she expected
as it merely said : " Whatever I may have been told
upon your account, I think I have shown on all
occasions, the value I have for the services of the duke
your husband ; and I am always disposed to judge of
him and you by the behaviour of each of you in regard
to my service. Upon which I pray God, my Lady
Marlborough to preserve you in all happiness."

Her grace immediately concluded that this unsatis-
factory note had been written at the suggestion of the
hated ministry, and her wrath flamed out anew. As
she could not, as in a former reign, force her way into
the Sovereign's presence and give vehement expression
to her grievances ; and as she even feared to plague
the King with fresh complaints, she appealed to his
mistress to right her in his eyes. Accordingly she wrote
to the Duchess of Kendal, and after profuse apologies
for troubling her grace, said, that though unwilling to
importune His Majesty or unnecessarily interrupt
" those thoughts which are much better employed "
than in considering her affairs, yet she hoped that His
Majesty's compassion and justice would give her some
opportunity to vindicate herself ; for she was impatient
to appear innocent to him above all the world.

" Madam," she continued, " permit me to say I am
injured beyond all expression, and this by an accusation
as absurd and incredible as it is wicked. Neither the
Duke of Marlborough nor myself can have any safety
and security even of our lives as well as fortunes, but

, Secretary Gra000 579

in the safety of His Majesty and his family ; and is it
possible to be conceived, that either of us should be so
weak as to contrive or assist in the bringing on our
own destruction." After declaring that she defies the
whole world to prove her guilty of conspiring, she adds,
c< I cannot suppose any man, of all that I know in the
world, capable of so great an injustice as to be the
author of so wicked an accusation except one, who
perhaps may have malice enough to me, and native
dishonour enough in himself, to be guilty of it ; and
when I say that the person I mean is Mr. Secretary
Craggs, it is enough to add, that his behaviour towards
me has been long ago of such a nature, that I have not
permitted him these nine years so much as to speak
to me."

In answer to this appeal she was referred to the
note already sent her by the King, at which she was so
indignant that she alienated herself from His Majesty's
Court and joined that of the Prince and Princess of
Wales, who were at this time on hostile terms with the
Sovereign.

CHAPTER X

The Duke of Marlborough's Declining Days — Interest in
His Grandchildren — Their performance of All for
Love — A Day with the Prince and Princess of
Wales — The Duchess of Montagu's Description of
the Parisians — His Grace of Marlborough makes
His Last Will and Testament — Precautions to prove
His Sanity — Lord Sackville's Description of Him —
His Illness — The Duchess rushes after Dr. Mead —
Death of the Great Duke— The Story of the Shorn
Locks — Lying in State — Magnificent Funeral —
Proposals of Marriage to His Widow — Lady
Isabella Montagu weds the Duke of Manchester —
Her Grace's Reply to Her Grandmother— The
Duchess of Marlborough's Scheme to marry Lady
Diana Spencer to Frederick Prince of Wales —
Discovery by Walpole — Lady Diana marries Lord
John Russell — Disputes between Henrietta Duchess
of Marlborough and Her Mother — The Young
Duchess patronises Musicians and Poets — Her
Friendship with Congreve — The Playwright's Vanity
— Voltaire visits Him — Goes to Bath with the
Duchess— His Death and Will— Her Eccentric
Conduct — The Dowager's Comment.

581

CHAPTER X

IN his declining days, the Duke of Maryborough
was able to enjoy the peace he had so often
longed for during his campaigns abroad, or in the
midst of the uncertainties and turbulence of party
strifes at home. Though twice stricken by paralysis,
he appeared well, " excepting," says the duchess " that
he could not pronounce all words, which is common
in that distemper, but his understanding was as good
as ever. But he did not speak much to strangers,
because when he was stopt by not being able to
pronounce some words, it made him uneasy ; but to
his friends he would talk freely."

His time was passed at his residences at Holy well
House, St. Albans, at Windsor Lodge, and at Blenheim,
where he delighted in walking about the grounds and
watching the completion of the palace raised to his
glory. But the greatest source of his enjoyment lay
in his grandchildren, with whom he rode and drove,
and in whose lessons in singing and dancing he took
particular interest.

A daughter of his friend Sir Alexander Cairnes,
VOL. ii. 583 17

584 tTbe Queen's Comrabe

who frequently stayed with the Marlborough grand-
children and shared their amusements, describes some
amateur theatricals in which she and they took part.
The plays selected for performance were 'Tamerlane,
and All for Love, or 'The World Well Lost. Dr.
Hoadley, then Bishop of Bangor, but later of the more
important see of Winchester, wrote a prologue for
All for Love, in which amongst other fulsome things
he assured the duke that beauty and virtue strove to
move and recompense his early love, a beauty which
Egypt's queen could never boast, and virtue she
never knew, or quickly lost. The good bishop with
that shameless flattery then in vogue, also told the
duke that the Caesars had to yield their bays to him,
and in justice to own his superior merit.

All for Love was acted in the bow-window room
at Holywell House, Miss Cairnes as Serapion the high
priest, wearing a very fine surplice that came from
Holland. c< The old duke was so pleased," says she,
u that we played it three times ; first, because we
were to play it ; some time after, for Lord Winchelsea
a great favourite there ; and the third time at the
duke's request. The duchess scratched out some of
the most amorous speeches and there was no embrace
whatever allowed. In short no offence to the company.
I suppose we made a very grand appearance ; there was
profusion of brocade rolls, etc., of what was to be the
window curtains at Blenheim. Jewels you may believe
in plenty ; and I think Mark Antony wore the sword
that the emperor gave the Duke of Marlborough/'

MARY CHURCHILL, DUCHESS OF MONTAGU.

Page 585.]

prince anfc princess at IRtcbmonfc 585

Occasionally the duchess took him to visit friends
or acquaintances, and in one of her letters she describes
with much satisfaction a day they spent in the beginning
of July 1720, with the Prince and Princess of Wales
who were then living at Richmond, in a house " very
handsome for anybody but the heir to the Crown."
The duke and herself, she relates, met with a most
agreeable reception, and the Princess, who, when she
became Queen Caroline, was the object of her grace's
special derision, was now she says "so very kind
to the Duke of Marlborough and to poor me, and
had so many agreeable ways of expressing it, that I
really love her ; and I am sure if others are treated
as we were, they will never want a full Court of the
best sort of people that this country affords. All
the attendants from the lord chamberlain and ladies
of the bedchamber, to the pages of the back stairs,
were so civil, that I thought myself in a new world.
There was very good music, though her royal highness
I saw, thought I liked the noise of the box and dice,
and contrived it so as to make me play on, when she
left us in a very pretty manner. "

At the date on which this was written, the duke
had so far recovered, that his youngest daughter the
Duchess of Montagu, for whom he had the greatest
affection, thought it safe to leave him for some time,
whilst she went abroad to see the sights of Paris, and
drink the waters of Aix. In a quaint letter which
she sent her husband, dated May 28th, 1720, which
is still preserved amongst the Montagu manuscripts,

586 TObe (Hueen's Gomrafce

she gives her first impressions of the French capital
where she was then staying. " I was in hopes I
should have heard from you by this time/' she
begins " I want to know how you do ; I have been
here but three or four days and I begin to be tired ;
but I hope it will mend, for I have seen nothing yet
but people that I think very disagreeable. The Duke
of Berwick says he will carry us to see some of the
fine places soon, and I wish he would begin. His
duchess looks like a very ill-humoured woman, and
I think not better bred than we are in England. I
made myself as French as I could the moment I came,
but they wear such loads of red and powder, that
it is impossible for me to come up to that, so I believe
I might as well have done nothing.

It is really true that if you would put a piece of
scarlet cloth upon the whole side of your face, it
would be exactly as they are. Then their hair is as
short and as much curled as Cab's, powdered as white
as snow, with a yellow coarse flourished gauze, ruffled
round their head ; and in this manner they sit and
talk all at a time, of the beauty of their dress ; indeed
I believe they are the most ridiculous people in the
world. I had writ thus far when your letter came
in, which I give you a thousand thanks for, and upon
my word it is the first pleasure I have had since I
came here. I am sorry the inward man is so bad ;
I wish to God, that, and the case to it, was with me,
though I think I could not mend it, but the air
might. There is no smoke here, which coming from

's Mill 587

London I thought very odd, in so great a town ; but
altogether I am not much pleased. ... I think I have
bought the prettiest nightgown for you that is
possible. I hope you will like it, but I beg I may
know exactly."

The duke, who was said to be richer than any
prince in Europe, but who whilst at Bath would walk
at night from the Assembly Rooms or the houses of
his friends to his own lodgings that he might spare
the hire of a chair, had made his will on several
occasions.

After his wife's estrangement with Lord Sunderland
he altered it once more, so that the final disposal of
his wealth, said to have been over a million and a half,
was made early in 1721. Always far-seeing and with
little faith in humanity, the duchess thought it possible
that her daughters, with whom she had quarrelled, or
their children, might subsequently strive to upset this
will on the plea of the duke's inability to make it.
To prevent this she invited to dinner at Marlborough
House those who were to witness his grace's signature
to this document, that they might see for themselves,
and give evidence later if necessary, that her husband
was fully responsible for his acts.

As soon as dinner was over, and the solicitor's clerk
had come to put the seals to the will, the duke rose
from the table and brought it from an adjoining room,
when, holding it up, he declared he had considered it
carefully and was perfectly satisfied with it, and then
signed every sheet. Lord Sunderland, whose name

s88 Ube (Sfcueen's Comrafce

was not mentioned in this deed, died on April I9th,
1722, when his son Robert succeeded him as fourth
earl; and he dying in 1729, was succeeded by his
brother Charles.

It was in this year 1721, that Lord Sackville, then
a child of five, was carried to the gate of St. James's
Palace to see the Duke of Marlborough pass as he left
the Court. " He was then," he says, " in a state of
caducity, but he still retained the vestiges of a most
graceful figure, though he was obliged to be supported
by a servant on either side, whilst the tears ran down
his cheeks, just as he is drawn by Dr. Johnson. The
populace cheered him as he passed through the crowd
to enter his carriage. I have, however, heard my
father say that the duke by no means fell into settled
or irrecoverable dotage, as is commonly supposed, but
manifested at times a sound understanding till within
a very short period of his decease, occasionally attend-
ing the Privy Council, and sometimes speaking in his
official capacity on matters of business with his former
ability."

His last attendance at the House of Lords was some
five months previous to his death, but it is more
than doubtful if he spoke there. Having passed the
early months of 1722 in town, the duke removed to
Windsor Lodge in May, and early in the following
month was attacked by a third paralytic stroke, this
time more severe than the others. Dr. Mead, whom
the duchess considered " the most obstinate and
ignorant doctor that we have had for a great while,"

Deatb of /Ifcadborougfo 589

was sent for, as being the most skilful in his pro-
fession ; but his remedies had no effect, which so
enraged her grace that, caring nothing for the presence
of the Bishop of Winchester, she swore at the doctor
roundly, and when he escaped from the room rushed
downstairs after him with the intention of pulling
off his wig. Other physicians came and went, the
family and friends were summoned, but all saw that
the end was near. The duchess was with him when
it came about four o'clock on the morning of Saturday,
June 1 6th, 1722, he being then in his seventy-second
year.

The only one in the world who loved her, the great
general whose career she had spoiled at its height,
the man whose patience she had sorely tried, and
whose forbearance she had so little valued, was gone.
Hard though she was, her sorrow must have been
great. And it is probable repentance touched her
when, on examining a cabinet where he kept all he
most valued, she found a mass of her own hair.
Then, whilst tears blinded her, she remembered the
day long years before, when furious because he dis-
obeyed her, she resolved to mortify him, and knowing
that her beautiful and abundant hair was a source of
pride and delight to him, she had impetuously cut it
from her head. The shorn tresses had been left in
a room through which he must pass, and in a place
where he must see them. But he came and went,
saw and spoke to her, showing neither anger, sorrow,
nor surprise. When he next quitted the house she

590 zrbe CSlueen's Comrade

ran to secure her tresses, but they had vanished, and
on a consultation with her looking-glass she saw how
foolish a thing she had done. But she said nothing
about her shorn locks, nor did he, and she never knew
what had become of them until they were found by
her amongst those things he held most precious.

Some twelve days later than the duke's death the
General Advertiser announced that the duchess <c comes
to town from Windsor next Monday, and the corpse
of the duke will be brought soon after." The same
authority states that " two Councils were held at
Kensington Palace regarding the manner of his funeral,
which will be performed with extraordinary state and
magnificence ; and as some say from the Tower, others
from Somerset House to Westminster Abbey " ; from
which it seems probable that it was the intention of
the Government to give and defray all expenses of a
public funeral. If such an offer was made, it was
declined by the duchess, who states that she bore all
cost of the sumptuous display which attended her
husband to the grave.

The duke's embalmed body was allowed to remain
for some time at Windsor, before it was removed to
Marlborough House, where it lay in state for some
weeks, " the quality, persons of distinction, and such
as were furnished with tickets " being allowed to walk
through a suite of rooms hung with black cloth and
lit by wax candles, to gaze on a coffin on which a
complete suit of armour was placed, with a truncheon
in its mailed hand, the collar of the Garter round its

ZTfoe jfuneral of /Ifoarlborou^b 591

neck, the riband on its breast, a sword by its side,
and a ducal coronet at its feet.

The funeral which took place on August 9th, six
weeks after his death, and to see which people flocked
from the three kingdoms, was not less magnificent
than that which had attended royalty. The procession
was opened by military bands, a detachment of foot
guards and artillery, heralds, officers, and ministers ;
after which came a funeral car modelled after that
which had carried Queen Mary to her tomb ; its
gorgeous canopy heavy with plumes, military trophies,
and badges. Underneath was the coffin covered by a
black velvet pall reaching to the ground. This was
followed by the chief mourner, the Duke of Montagu,
" having a train cloak five yards long, and being sup-
ported by the Lords Godolphin and Sunderland, and
assisted by eight dukes."

Next came the carriages of the King, Prince of
Wales, and the nobility. Forty riders in mourning
cloaks, and seventy-two pensioners from Chelsea
Hospital, added impressiveness to this scene of woe,
which, as the cannon thundered from the Tower, took
its slow and solemn way from Marlborough House
through St. James's Park to Hyde Park Corner, along
Piccadilly to Pall Mall, and by Charing Cross to
Westminster Abbey, where the service was conducted
by the Dean, and a funeral anthem, specially composed
for this occasion by Bononcini, was sung. The body
was then lowered into a vault near the tomb of Henry
VIL, when the Garter King-at-Arms recited the

592 ftbe Queen's Comrade

various titles and honours of the deceased, and con-
cluded by saying " Thus it has pleased Almighty God
to take out of this transitory world, into His mercy,
the most high, mighty, and noble prince, John Duke
of Marlborough."

No sooner had he finished than three rockets were
set off at the east end of the Abbey, as a signal to
the troops that were drawn up on the Parade at St.
James's Park ; upon which, says the Post Boy, " three
general and most complete volleys were given with
about twenty pieces of artillery that were fired alto-
gether ; and as many with the small arms of all the
forces both horse and foot ; the whole being performed
in excellent order."

Twenty years later the remains of the duke were
removed from Westminster Abbey to the magnificent
mausoleum at Blenheim, which the duchess had
erected from designs by Rysbrach, and where they
now rest.

To her the duke left a jointure of fifteen thousand
a year, free of all charges and deductions ; she was
also empowered to dispose of ten thousand pounds
annually for five years in completing Blenheim Palace ;
which, with the manor of Woodstock, had been
settled on her already by Act of Parliament. She
was at liberty to leave her own personal property
and her paternal estate at Sandridge, to whichever of
her grandchildren she pleased ; but Marlborough
House was to become the property of the successor
to the title.

Mifcowefc 2>ucbes0'0 Suitors 593

After the payment of different legacies to his
youngest daughter, the Duchess of Montagu, and to
his grandchildren, the duke left the residue of his
property to Henrietta, Countess of Godolphin, and
her heirs male, with a reversionary entail on the male
issue of his other daughters. To Lord Godolphin was
assigned an annuity of five thousand a year in case
he survived his wife ; whilst their son, Lord Rialton,
the heir apparent to the dukedom, had an allowance
of three thousand a year, which was to be increased
to eight thousand when the building of Blenheim was
finished.

Though the duchess's imperious temper had become
historic, and her years numbered sixty-two at the time
of her husband's death, yet her great wealth soon
brought her suitors. The first of these fearless men
was Thomas Earl of Coningsby, a politician who
had held office under Queen Anne, a husband twice
made a widower, a soldier who had fought side by
side with William at the Boyne, and an old friend and
adherent of the Marlboroughs. The impression the
duchess gave him of her grief, was not strong enough
to prevent him making his first matrimonial advances,
within six weeks of the duke's funeral.

In a maudlin and effusive letter dated October 8th,
1722, and preserved amongst the Coxe MSS., my
Lord Coningsby has nothing to say of her loss or her
sorrow, but he tells her that when he had the honour
to wait on her at Blenheim " it struck me to the heart
to find you, the best, the worthiest, and the wisest of

594 ftbe (Hueen's Comrade

women, with regard to your health and consequently
to your precious life, in the worst of ways." That
he was entirely of her mind, she must learn when he
speaks of " the ingratitude of the world, the want of
true friendship in it, and the most unnatural falsehood
of nearest relatives," subjects on which her grace
delighted to harangue, in almost the self-same phrases,
and grievances with which he was ready to sympathise.

In the following month of November, he writes to
her again from his house in Albemarle Street, con-
cerning u his motherless little innocents," who under
God had been his support from the dismal day when
he " was so unfortunate to be deprived of the most
delightful conversation of my dearest, dearest Lady
Marlboro ugh, to whom alone I could open the inner-
most thoughts of my loaded heart, and by whose
exalted wisdom, and by a friendship more sincere
than is now to be met in any other breast among all
the men and women in the world, I found relief from
all my then prevailing apprehensions, and was some-
times put in hope that the Great and Almighty
Disposer of all things would, out of His infinite
goodness to me, at His own time and in His own
way, establish those blessings (which He then showed
me but a glimpse of, and suffered me to enjoy but a
moment) to me for the term of my happy life."

The hope labouredly expressed in this entangled
sentence, was considerably chilled when he had the
mortification to learn that she had been a day and a
night in town without giving him the least notice of it.

jfor J£\>ert for )£x>er refuses 595

" The dismal thoughts," writes this elderly and
ridiculous swain, " that it brought into my head and
heart, I will for my own ease strive for ever, for ever to
forget." It was also no doubt for his own ease, that
Sarah Duchess of Marlborough for ever, for ever
refused to marry him ; for what pleasure could there
be in commanding and hectoring such a foolish slave.

But no sooner was one suitor sent about his business
than another appeared. The second was the proud
Duke of Somerset, now a widower, having just lost the
wife whom Her Grace of Marlborough cordially detested.
If the Duke of Somerset had heard that a private letter
written by him to Sarah had been sent to Queen Anne
on whom it reflected, he thought well to forget it in
placing his heart at her disposal. But the duke — who
had no talents to support his arrogant pretentions,
whose pride made him ridiculous, and who behaved with
great tyranny to his family — was refused by the widow,
who told him that marriage at her age would be unbe-
coming ; a piece of information which he who was three
years her senior must have relished. She also magnifi-
cently declared that if she were only thirty, " she would
not permit even the Emperor of the world to succeed
in that heart which had been devoted to John Duke of
Marlborough."

This lofty speech seemed to satisfy the proud duke,
whose ardour cannot have been overwhelming ; for he
immediately asked the duchess to recommend him a
wife, on which she selected Lady Charlotte Finch,
daughter of the Earl of Nottingham, who for her sins

596 itbe Queen's Comra&e

became second Duchess of Somerset. The poor
woman was soon to learn the manner of man she
wedded, for one day having dared to tap him familiarly
on the shoulder, he turned round in anger and amaze-
ment, and with a haughty air told her " my first
duchess was a Percy, but she never took such a
liberty."

Although the Duchess of Marlborough would not
marry, she was busy in giving her granddaughter,
Lady Isabella Montagu, in marriage the following year.
The bride was daughter of the Duchess of Montagu,
one of the most beautiful and sprightly women of her
day ; and of John Duke of Montagu, of whom Sarah
said " all his talents 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."

Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, in one of her lively
letters written in April 1723, tells her correspondent
that " Belle is at this instant in the paradisal state of
receiving visits every day from a passionate lover, who
is her first love ; whom she thinks the finest gentleman
in Europe, and is besides that, Duke of Manchester.
Her mamma and I often laugh and sigh reflecting on
her felicity." The happy pair were wedded on April
1 6th, 1723, and the young duchess who was extremely
handsome, high spirited and witty, soon became the
toast of gallants, the theme of poets, the admired of all

"Hnfc sbe bas a dfootber" 597

assemblies. Her mother and grandmother had long
been at variance, when the late duke listening to their
bitter speeches, used to say, he wondered they could not
agree as they were so much alike. Notwithstanding
this, Her Grace of Manchester managed to keep the
favour of Duchess Sarah whose spirit and sharpness she
had inherited. <c You my sweet duchess," said the
elder woman to her one day in an overflow of kindness,
" You were always the best of God's creatures, and I
love you mightily, but you have a mother" " Yes and
she has a mother," came the quick reply.

The Duke of Manchester who was but three and
twenty when he married, died sixteen years later in
1739. His duchess, who then seemed more beautiful
and fascinating than in her girlhood, was beset by
worshippers eager for her hand and her jointure,
amongst whom was Henry Fox, afterwards Lord
Holland, whom Sarah hated and dreaded lest he should
succeed with her granddaughter ; so that whenever she
heard of an imprudent marriage she would say, c< Ah
well ; I don't care who runs away with whom so long
as the Fox doesn't carry off my goose."

From amongst the number of her admirers, the young
Duchess of Manchester eventually selected Richard, Earl
of Scarborough, for her second husband. Deeds were
drawn, preparations made, and the day fixed for the
wedding, but on the previous night the bridegroom
elect committed suicide, without any apparent cause; so
that it was said the act was done in a fit of insanity.

" I confess," writes Lady Mary Wortley Montagu,

59$ tTbe (Queen's Comtabe

" I looked upon his engagement with the duchess, not
as the cause, but sign, that he was mad. I could wish
for some authentic account of her behaviour on this
occasion. I do not doubt she shines in it, as she has
done in every other part of life." The duchess did not
again select a husband until some eight years later, when
her choice became a nine days' wonder. For she who
was the most fastidious, most fashionable and exclusive
of her set, who had received proposals from men of the
highest rank, and was pursued by a train of admirers,
elected to marry a Mr. Hussey, described as " a wild
Irishman younger than herself, utterly unknown to all
her set of company, and differing wildly from them in
habits and manners."

Another granddaughter, her favourite amongst them
all, in whose marriage the Duchess of Marlborough
interested herself, was Lady Diana Spencer, a daughter
of Lady Sunderland. Her grace's ambitions flew high,
for the husband she selected for the girl was none other
than Frederick Prince of Wales, son of George II.

It was not until a year after His Majesty, on the
death of his father in 1727, ascended the throne,
that the Prince was permitted to come to England;
for since his childhood a bitter animosity had existed
between himself and his parents, who kept him out
of their way as long as possible.

The King, who considered his son <c the greatest
ass, and the greatest liar, and the greatest canaille,
and the greatest beast in the whole world," and
heartily wished he was out of it, kept him very short

44 Ube Secret was buries in Silence " 599

of money, which he tried to gain by all kinds of
contrivances ; so that when the Duchess of Marl-
borough, knowing his wants, offered him a hundred
thousand pounds if he would marry Lady Diana, he
eagerly grasped at a prospect which would not only
supply his needs but have the additional advantage
of outraging his father. This union, which would
gratify her grace's ambition as well as her grudge
against Their Majesties, was arranged to take place
secretly at the Great Lodge at Windsor, and the day
for its celebration fixed. But Sir Robert Walpole
got intelligence of the project and prevented it, when,
says his son Horace, who tells the story, " the secret
was buried in silence." From that time forward
Sir Robert's person and politics became particularly
obnoxious to the duchess. " I think 'tis thought
wrong to wish anybody dead," says she, <c but I hope
'tis none to wish he may be hanged for having
brought to ruin so great a country as this."

The date of this intended marriage is not given,
but Lady Diana Spencer became the wife of Lord
John Russell, afterwards fourth Duke of Bedford,
on October nth, 1731, much to the gratification of
her grandmother, who writing from Blenheim in the
previous month to Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, says,
<f All things are agreed upon and the writings drawing
for Di's marriage with my Lord John Russell, which
is in every particular to my satisfaction ; but they
cannot be married till we come to London. I propose
more satisfaction in it than I thought had been in store

VOL. II.

6oo Ube (Siueen's Comrafce

for me. I believe you have heard me say that I desired
to die when I had disposed well of her ; but I desire
that you would not put me in mind of it, for I find
now I have a mind to live till I have married my
Torismond, which name I have given long to John
Spencer."

The duchess's satisfaction in this marriage was of
short duration, for her favourite granddaughter died
four years later.

On the demise of the Duke of Marlborough, his
titles and honours were inherited by his eldest daughter,
Henrietta, Countess of Godolphin, who then became
Duchess of Marlborough. Frequent and violent dis-
putes and disagreements had long since parted mother
and daughter, who to the end remained unreconciled.
As early as May 1720, Henrietta, then Lady Godolphin,
complained to her father and her husband of the
duchess, who in consequence wrote her son-in-law
the following letter, which is preserved amongst the
Morrison autographs.

" The occasion of giving you this trouble," says her
grace, " proceds from a very wrong account which I
find your wife has given to her father of what passed
between us upon Monday last, I hope only from her
passion, which was the cause of her saying things so
unbecoming her and me that I never intended to have
mentioned the least word of it to the Duke of Marl-
borough and much less to you, till now that I find
I am under a necessity of vindicating myself and that
is so very just and naturall that I am sure no reasonable

"Sbe was no (Boofc Ualfeer" 60 1

person can blame me for it. I can't deny that I have
sometimes complained of her unkind usage to those
that I thought might help to mend it, without making
an noise to the prejudice of either of us, but never in
any way that she had any reason to take ill ; but
having tryd in vain all manner of ways to make her
sensible in any degree of my kindnesse to her, I had
resolved to bear it without any farther struggle, or so
much as complaining even to the Duke of Marlborough
upon any occasion of that nature. However I was so
much touched to find myself neglected to such a degree
in my late sicknesse by a child that I loved so dearly,
that I could not resist upon her last visit to tell her
that I wishd to bee well that I mighte ease her of that
great trouble she was under, in being oblidged to send
or come once a day to know how I did.

" This reproach I must own I thought would have
produced so easy an answer, as that she was ashamed
she had not been more with me, but instead of that
she immediately replyd that she believed I could
remember that I could not give my time to my
mother, and that she was no good talker, meaning
that her company was worth little. This I did think
so uncommon a style for a daughter to her mother,
that it was impossible for me not to reproach her
with such ill behaviour, and to appeal to her how
little I had deserved it from her ; which was only
the occasion of her telling me that she never desired
her children should do better to her than she had
don to me ; that she had the satisfaction of knowing

602 ftbe Queen's Gomrafce

that the world was satisfyd with her upon that subject,
but that 1 was unsatisfyd with my lady Sunderland
and her sister Montagu, and shew that it was not
her fault that she did not please me ; and then she
praised for a quarter of an hour the dutiful! behaviour
of her sister Montagu, who she assured me she heard
allways commended for her very good behaviour to
me, whether I have been in the righte or the wrong
in my complaints to the D of Mar. Considering
how we live together, I think I need not say how
offensive such a conversation must be from one's own
child, not that she could mean it for nothing else
but to provoke me."

Henrietta, Duchess of Marlborough, with whose
name scandal dealt freely, was a handsome and sprightly
woman, clever and somewhat eccentric, fond of gaiety
and company, who delighted in gathering women of
fashion and men of wit around her, and who posed
as a patroness of the Italian composer Bononcini,
the rival of Handel. Seated in her box at the
theatre, surrounded by dandies in satin and lace, spying
glasses in their eyes, snuff boxes in their hands, she
enjoyed the full-flavoured humour of Wycherley,
Gibber, Vanbrugh, or Congreve ; whose comedies
sparkling with wit and flavoured with indecency, but
almost devoid of action, then delighted the town.
From the playhouse her interests naturally spread to
playwrights and poets, chief amongst her favourites
being John Gay and William Congreve.

The latter, a brilliant dramatist and man of i fashion,

603

and the descendant of an old Staffordshire family,
was born at Bardsey near Leeds, but when an infant
was taken to Ireland, where his father commanded a
garrison and afterwards managed the estates of the
Earl of Cork. Young Congreve was educated at
Kilkenny, and at Trinity College, with a view to
joining the Bar. But the law seemed a dull pursuit
to one of his wit, his vivacious conversation, and his
love of good society ; so that he was more often
to be found in the coffee houses, at the tables of
his noble friends, and at the theatre than in the
Middle Temple.

His reputation for cleverness was raised when in
1692, he published a novel called " Incognita, or Love
and Duty Reconciled," he being then one and twenty.
In the summer of this same year he had written his
first comedy, The Old Bachelor, but on reading
it to the players his delivery was so bad, that they
almost rejected it ; yet before he had finished, the
manager, Thomas Davenant, was so persuaded of its
excellence that he allowed its author " the privilege
of the theatre " for six months before his comedy
was put on its boards. The polished dialogue and
brilliant epigrams of the play made it an immediate
success, for it ran for fourteen consecutive nights,
a remarkable proof of its popularity in those days,
and from that time it held the stage.

His second play, The Double Dealer, appeared
the following year, but it had little of the merit of
his first, and was consequently a comparative failure ;

'8 Comtabe

but he regained his reputation as a clever dramatist
when Love for Love was produced at the Lincoln's
Inn Theatre in 1695. In the same year he was made
one of the Commissioners of hackney coaches, at a
salary of a hundred per annum, this being the first
of the Government posts he filled, which eventually
brought him twelve hundred a year, and made him
independent of his pen. This was a cause of no
little satisfaction to Congreve, who prided himself
on being above all things a fine gentleman, and affected
to despise the works which had brought him fame.
Indeed, when he received a visit from Voltaire, he
spoke of them as trifles that were beneath him, and
hinted in his first conversation with the Frenchman
that he wished to be visited upon no other footing
than that of a gentleman. " I answered/' wrote
Voltaire, " that had he been so unfortunate as to
be a mere gentleman, I should never have come
to see him ; and I was much disgusted at so un-
seasonable a piece of vanity."

For many years Congreve lived on intimate terms
with Mrs. Bracegirdle, who had taken prominent parts
in his plays and was the greatest actress of her day.
Their acquaintance which began in 1692, lasted until
about 1722, when he was so constantly and publicly
seen with her, that gossips asserted they were married.
But in the latter year, he became acquainted with
Henrietta, Duchess of Marlborough, when he broke
with Mrs. Bracegirdle, whose affection for him con-
tinued till the day of his death and after.

Sobn (Bag 605

At this time when he became the intimate friend
of Henrietta, Duchess of Maryborough, Congreve had
passed his fiftieth year, whilst his constitution had
long been broken from severe attacks of gout, and
cataracts threatened him with blindness. These draw-
backs did not however, damp his wonderful powers
of conversation, said to be the most entertaining of
any man of his time, and which were no doubt all
the more welcome to the duchess, because her husband
happened to be a dull cypher.

In the spring of 1728, her grace, accompanied by
Congreve, who a little while before had nearly died
from gout in the stomach, and by John Gay, who
was " languishing with a colick," set out to drink
the waters at Bath, where the appearance of the duchess
and her invalids, gave rise to lively gossip. Congreve's
health seemed to improve, but on his return to town
in the autumn, he received a severe shock and some
injury from the upsetting of his coach. He was
immediately taken to his house in Surrey Street, Strand,
where he gradually sank and died on January 27th,
1729.

No sooner was he dead than the duchess decided
to give him one of those costly and theatrical funerals
which were then believed to show respect and affection
for the dead ; she entering into all the details of the
ghastly parade, and selecting the chief mourners, of
whom her husband obligingly figured as one, and her
brother-in-law, now Duke of Bridgewater, as another.
The remains of the playwright who died three weeks

(iueen'0 Comrafce

before reaching his sixtieth year, were borne in pomp
and state to the Jerusalem Chamber, and afterwards
interred in Westminster Abbey.

Three years previously Congreve had made his will,
in which, after leaving sums of two hundred pounds
to Mrs. Bracegirdle, and various needy relatives of
his own, he left the residue of his estate, amounting to
about ten thousand pounds, to Henrietta, Duchess of
of Marlborough. In return she had a marble tablet
erected to his memory bearing the words " Mr. William
Congreve, died Jan. 19, 1728, and was buried near
this place ; to whose most valuable memory this
monument is set up by Henrietta, Duchess of Marl-
borough, as a mark how deeply she remembers the
happiness and honour she enjoyed in the sincere
friendship of so worthy and honest a man, whose
virtue, candour, and wit gained him the love and
esteem of the present age, and whose writings will be
the admiration of the future/'

With grim dissatisfaction the old Duchess of Marl-
borough heard of the foolish extravagance of erecting
a monument to a poet ; and her biting comment on
the inscription was, " I know not what happiness she
might have had in his company, but I am sure it was
no honour."

The younger duchess bought herself a diamond
necklace with the money left her by Congreve, and
this she proudly showed to Dr. Young, author of
" Night Thoughts/' who was of opinion, which he
had not the courage to express to her grace, that the

HENRIETTA CHURCHILL,

SECOND- DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH

Page 606.]

H Masen Smaae treateb for (Bout 607

money had far better be given to Mrs. Bracegirdle,
then living in retirement. Henrietta's affection for
Congreve's memory did not end in the erection of a
monument, or the wearing of a chain brought with his
money ; for she had a waxen image of Congreve made
as large as life and dressed in his clothes, which was
placed at her table, talked to, helped to food and
wine, and at her command treated by the best
physicians of the day for the gout, from which its
bandaged legs were supposed to suffer.

CHAPTER XI

The Last Years of the Dowager ^Duchess of Marl-
borough — Her Aversion to Sir Robert Walpole —
Letter from the Bishop of Chichester — Her Grace
replies — Quarrels with Her Daughters — Death of
Henrietta Duchess of Maryborough — The New
Duke — The Dowager's Wrath" at His Marriage —
Makes a Puppet Show to illustrate Her Grievance —
The Singular Punishment of Lady Bateman — Her
Grace's Favourite Grandson, Jack Spencer — His
Prodigality — Fanny Murray's Contempt for Money
— The Dowager pleads Her Case in the Court of
Chancery — Refuses to part with the Diamond-
hiked Sword — Eccentricities of the Duchess of
Buckingham — Proud of Her Royal Descent —
Intrigues to place James Stuart on the Throne —
Her Answer to the Duchess of Marlborough — The
Duchess of Shrewsbury diverts the Town —
The Dowager Duchess on the Immortality of the
Soul — Lively Letters to Lord Marchmont — Engaged
in writing an Account of Her Conduct — Her
Secretary, Nathaniel Hook — Negotiations with
Pope to suppress Her " Character " — Reasons for
writing Her Defence.

609

CHAPTER XI

IN the last years of her life, Sarah Duchess of
Marlborough spent her time in marrying her
granddaughters, in quarrelling with her daughters, in
roundly abusing royalty, in reviling the Government,
in plaguing the Treasury about the stipend of five or
six hundred a year attached to the Rangership of
Windsor Park, but above all in increasing her wealth
and acquiring landed property ; so that this lonely old
woman, whose income was about forty thousand per
annum, went into the City when she was close upon
her eightieth year, that she might bid for Lord
Yarmouth's estates ; whilst, when in her eighty-fourth,
and only a few months before her death, she was
making enquiries of Lord Marchmont, concerning an
estate near Windsor which she desired to buy, and
entering into details regarding it with a shrewdness
that would have done honour to a child of Israel.

Her particular political aversion continued to be Sir
Robert Walpole, whom she blamed for wrongs and
slights she believed herself to suffer from, and her

denunciations of him were bitter in consequence. In

611

612 ube (Slueen's Comrafce

reference to this feud on her part, her old friend,
who had been tutor to her son and chaplain to her
husband, Dr. Hare, Bishop of Chichester, writing
to her from Barnes as early as August 26th, 1726,
tells her that on the previous Tuesday he had waited
on the Princess of Wales, who mentioned her grace's
quarrels with Walpole, on which the bishop paid a
visit to the statesman to speak of them. The latter
being at leisure, entered very frankly and fully into
them, and protested he had not the least design
of disobliging the duchess, or the least thought of
incurring her displeasure ; for as he considered him-
self obliged to her for the sum she had lent the
Government, he was always ready to serve her ; and
he so little suspected that she was out of humour
with him, that he had thought himself on a good
footing with her until she expressed so much resent-
ment towards him.

Walpole then entered into particulars of the causes
of her anger ; taxes on Windsor Park, and forbidding
her in common with some others, to share the privilege
of driving through St. James's Park, the King having
complained of the number of coaches that passed
through what was then his private grounds.

The bishop, in continuing his letter, hopes it will
be unnecessary for him to say that he had the most
affectionate esteem for her, and not only esteem but
admiration for her fine understanding and good sense,
and for the just and noble sentiments which she
expresses on all occasions in the best language and the

Br* Ifoare's plain Speafeina 613

most agreeable manner, so that one cannot hear her
without pleasure ; " but," says his lordship, <c the more
I esteem and admire what is excellent in your grace,
the more concerned am I to see any blemishes in so
great a character.

" Ill-grounded suspicions, violent passions, and a
boundless liberty of expressing resentment of persons
without distinction from the Prince downwards, and
that in the most public manner, and before servants,
are certainly blemishes, and not only so but attended
with great inconveniences ; they lessen exceedingly the
influence and interests persons of your grace's fortune
and endowments would otherwise have, and unavoidably
create enemies. It is I think confessed to be one of
the most prudent rules of life, for persons in all stations
not to give needless and unnecessary offence, since no
person is so great as not to want on many occasions for
themselves, or relations, or friends, the favour and
good will of others ; and least of all is it desirable to
incur the settled displeasure or ill-wish of a Prince ;
since he can seldom want long an opportunity of
making it felt in some degree or other."

The Bishop must have wondered how such plain
speaking would be received ; but the duchess, who
through life had prided herself on telling unpleasant
truths in a vigorous manner to others, could not resent
the same treatment from an old friend to herself. She
therefore answered by telling the Bishop she had read
Montaigne, and remembered he said that one could not
give a greater proof of friendship than in venturing to,

614 Ube (Slueen's Comrabe

disoblige a friend in order to serve them, and that she
was entirely of his opinion.

"And even when I am not convinced that 1 have
done wrong, I always take it kindly ; and therefore I
am confident I shall never forget it though you desire
me ; and in this I imitate your humble servant Dy,
(Lady Diana Spencer) for when I made a sort of an
apology for telling her anything that may prevent any
mischief to her, she always says she loves me better
for telling her any fault, and I desire you will believe
that my nature is the same ; and I beg of you never
to have the least scruple in telling me anything you
think, for I am not so partial to myself, as not to know
that I have many imperfections, but a great fault I will
never have, that I know to be one."

She then enters into a long defence of herself, and
was exceedingly sore that the Duchess of Buckingham,
although she had written an impertinent letter to the
King, was yet allowed to drive her coach through St.
James's Park, just as royalty did. Nor did the Dowager
Duchess of Marlborough's hatred or abuse of Walpole
cease, in return for which he eventually found means to
punish her. For when she set about purchasing several
old dwellings fronting Marlborough House, in order to
pull them down and give a more spacious and dignified
entrance to her town residence, Walpole quickly bought
their leases and so thwarted her intentions.

At various times in her career she had been in the
habit of writing narratives of the events in which she
had taken part ; and to those manuscript pages, many

H Jfull anfc ZTrue Hccount 615

of the descriptions in these volumes are due. Soon
after her husband's death she set about giving a full
and true account, according to her own ideas, of her
disagreements with her daughters, which when finished,
was sent to different friends for their information and
her own defence.

In forwarding a copy to Mrs. Godolphin, a connection
of her son-in-law, the duchess says she has not been to
see anybody that she could well avoid for a great while,
but she can no longer hold from writing to her on a
very melancholy subject because, says she, <c I am sure
you cannot but have heard all the vile things that have
been reported of me, which has forced me to collect
a great many disagreeable things in order to vindicate
myself to those that I value most, and as I have had
reason allways to think you my friend, I desire the
feavour of you to read this long paper. You will see
by it how long I have endeavoured to hide my mis-
fortunes from the world, but now that there is hardly
a possibility of a reconcilment between me and my
children, from the very injurious aspersions which they
have publickly thrown upon me, I neither can nor I
think ought to suffer any longer under it ; and if I had
not taken so much pains to conceal their faults, at the
same time that they and their wretched friends were
making all manner of false reports of me, I believe it
had not been possible for them to have prevailed so
much as they have don. I have known people of the
most calme temper very much warmed upon account of
their repetation, and having boare what I have done

VOL. ii. 19

616 Ube Queen^ Comrafce

for so many years, rather than hurt my children, I hope
nobody will blame me now for what I do, which I am
forced to by them to prevent my being pointed at where
ever I goe."

One of these children, Henrietta, Duchess of Marl-
borough, died in 1733. Her only son, William,
Marquis of Blandford, predeceased her by two years,
leaving no heirs, when the title and honours passing
to the Spencer line, Charles, fifth Earl of Sunderland,
succeeded to the dukedom of Marlborough, on which
he assumed the name and arms of Churchill in con-
junction with those of Spencer. According to Horace
Walpole, he was modest and diffident, had good sense,
infinite generosity, and not more economy than was
to be hoped for in a young man of such vast ex-
pectations. But whilst having many good qualities,
and opposing the Court to humour his grandmother,
she never liked him, her favourite being his brother,
commonly called Jack Spencer, whose habits were
dissipated and whose extravagance was boundless.

In May 1732, and only a few months before he
inherited the ducal title, he had irretrievably offended
his grandmother, by marrying a girl endowed with
good looks and a great fortune, but who was the
daughter of Lord Trevor, an enemy of the first duke.
At this her grace's rage knew no bounds, and it was
but a small satisfaction to her desire for vengeance
that she was able to turn her grandson and his wife
out of the Little Lodge at Windsor, which she had
lent him. When they had gone it pleased her to

"Sbe is mucb blacfeer wftbin" 617

think that they, together with the bride's cousins, had
stripped the house and garden ; and, to illustrate and
exhibit her grievance, the duchess had a puppet-show
made representing the hated Trevor girls tearing up
shrubs and flowers, whilst the new-made wife was seen
escaping with a chicken-coop under her arm.

Nor was her anger at this marriage limited to her
grandson ; for, finding it had been brought about by
his sister, Lady Mary Spencer, wife of Viscount
Bateman, who had great influence over her brother, she
looked about for some means of justly punishing this
abominable offender. At last she hit upon what
seemed to her a happy idea. She already possessed a
portrait of my Lady Bateman, which she now made
the means of her vengeance. "She did not give it
away," says Louisa Louisa Stuart, who tells the story,
" nor sell it to a broker ; nor send it up to a lumber
garret ; nor even turn its front to the wall. She
had the face blackened over, and this sentence, ' She
is much blacker within] inscribed in large characters
on the frame ; and thus placed in her usual sitting-
room, it was exhibited to all beholders."

On inheriting the ducal title and property, Charles
Spencer was obliged, according to the will of the first
duke, to hand over the Sunderland estates to his
younger brother John Spencer. Though the latter
was a rake who drank deep and played high, and was
far more extravagant than his brother, yet, as has
been said, he was his grandmother's favourite, whom
she loved, admired, and forgave. Both brothers made

618 Ube <SHueen'0 Comrabe

it a rule that they would never " dirty their fingers
with silver " ; and accordingly, when they ordered a
bottle of wine at a tavern, a scramble followed amongst
the waiters to attend them ; whilst their calling for
a chair was always the signal for a free fight amongst
the carriers anxious to handle a guinea or two.

Jack Spencer's prodigality appeared to communicate
itself to those he associated with, and especially to
Fanny Murray, a sprightly wench with whom he lived
on intimate terms ; for, as an instance of her waste-
fulness, it is told that one night, whilst at supper with
a company of gallant men, she complained of the
want of money, when Sir Robert Atkins immediately
gave her a twenty-pound note. " Damn your twenty
pounds," says she contemptuously. " What does it
signify ? " and she clapped it between two pieces of
bread-and-butter and ate it.

Though the dowager duchess, who loved money
dearly, intended to make this spendthrift her heir,
she was unwilling to give his brother the duke what
was legally his ; so that, to settle a dispute regarding
some portion of his inheritance, they agreed to what
was called an amicable lawsuit. But to arrange any-
thing amicably was impossible to her grace, who
amused the town by going in person to the Court
of Chancery to plead her case. In the course of the
proceedings the question was debated as to who should
keep the diamond-hiked sword given to the great
duke by a foreign sovereign, when the duchess, rising
to her full height, excitedly said, " That sword my

Ube Bucbess of Bucfcfngbam 619

lord would have carried to the gates of Paris.
Am I to live to see the diamonds picked off one by
one and lodged at the pawnbroker's ? "

Though her grace's vagaries, sharp speeches, and
quarrels amused the town, it was likewise diverted
by a woman of equal rank and greater eccentricity.
This was the Duchess of Buckingham, a daughter of
James II. and of the Countess of Dorchester, who
was also a woman of strong individuality. It was
the latter who, in wondering why she and those
holding the same position as herself had been selected
by her royal lover, remarked, " we are none of us
handsome, and if we have wit he has not enough to
find it out." The Duchess of Buckingham's pride at
her royal though illegitimate birth was inordinate ;
to humble which her mother told her when they
quarrelled, that she need not be so vain, for she
was not the King's daughter but Colonel Graham's,
which made the younger woman furious.

To show the world she was of kingly descent, she
rigorously kept the anniversary of Charles the First's
death ; for on that solemn day, dressed in deep mourn-
ing, seated in a chair of state in the great drawing-room
of Buckingham House, and surrounded by her Ladies-
in-Waiting also in weeds, she received the friends who
offered their sympathies. On other occasions she
attended the opera in regal robes of scarlet and ermine,
and turned her back on those who she considered had
usurped the throne.

In the previous reign the peace-loving Anne had

620 Ube Queen's Comrade

granted permission to the duchess to drive her coach
through the enclosures of St. James's Park, a privilege
which her grace determined to retain under the new
monarch. But one day soon after the King's arrival,
her coach was stopped by the keepers, when she was
respectfully told that none but royalty were now
allowed to pass that way. At this the duchess put
her head out of the window and said, " Tell the King
that if it is reserved for j royalty, he has no more right
to it than I have," and she ordered her coach to drive
on. On this being repeated to George I., who accord-
ing to his friend Lady Mary Wortley Montagu,
" looked upon his acceptance of the crown as an act of
usurpation, which was always uneasy to him," he
laughed good-naturedly, and gave orders that the
duchess should be allowed to pass through any part
of the park she pleased.

A thousand stories of her whims and sayings were
told in the coffee-houses and at assemblies ; and
amongst others of her treatment of Angelo Maria Cori,
the prompter of the opera. One day when she went
to pay him for her box, this wretched man had the
impudence to be from home. On calling an hour
later she stopped his profuse apologies by asking if he
meant to treat her like a tradeswoman ? She added
that she would teach him the respect due to her birth,
and commanded him to wait on her next morning at
nine. The polite foreigner was at Buckingham House
at the hour appointed, and there he was kept till eight
at night, during which time she sent him merely an

"Bow 1be bas been punisbefc" 621

omelet and a bottle of wine ; for the day being Friday
and he a Catholic, she explained that she supposed he
did not eat meat. In the evening, half famished and
wholly weary, she admitted him to her presence with all
the form of a princess giving an audience to an
ambassador. When he had gone she triumphantly
exclaimed, " Now he has been punished."

Since the accession of the House of Hanover, she
had busied herself with intrigues, as open as they were
foolish, to place her brother James Stuart on the
throne. For this purpose she made journeys to Rome,
where he was then living, but always avoided the French
Court on her way through Paris, because she would not
be received there as a princess of the blood. In Rome
it was otherwise, for even when she attended the opera
in that city, her box was decorated with the royal
crown. Though whilst in Paris she avoided the Court,
she always visited the Church of the Benedictines in
the Faubourg St. Jacques, where the body of James II,
was kept unburied in the hope of its being one day
removed to England. Here she knelt and wept beside
the remains of the late King, when seeing her emotion
one day, a monk in charge took the opportunity of
pointing out that the pall, covering the coffin, had
become very threadbare, expecting that the duchess
would replace it ; but her filial affection was not great
enough to afford such expense.

In the hope of winning Sir Robert Walpole's help
in placing James Stuart on the throne, she reminded
him that, as a reward for restoring the royal family,

622 ube Ciueen's Gomrabe

Lord Clarendon had been allowed " to match his
daughter to the Duke of York " ; a hint of the great
things that might be in store for the minister, who only
smiled at her. But this did not prevent her from
conveying letters to him from her brother, which Sir
Robert always handed to the King, which, when
endorsed by him, were returned to the duchess.

Though His Majesty persisted in taking her treason
so playfully, her grace was deadly in earnest in her
endeavours to deprive him of the crown ; and on leaving
England for Rome, always made over her property in
trust to some friend, lest it should be forfeited for her
dark conspiracies. On one of these occasions her
estates were left in the custody of the Earl of Bath,
who on her return, could not find the deed by which
they were entrusted to him. All search unfortunately
failed to find it, when the duchess grew clamorous and
appealed to her friend Lord Mansfield, who told the
earl he could never show his face unless he produced
the document, shortly after which he had the good luck
to find it.

Her husband, who being a wit, must have enjoyed
her extravagances, left her and this world in 1721,
when she gave him a splendid and costly funeral.
This was eclipsed in the following year by the spectacle
of the Duke of Marlborough's procession to the grave,
much to her grace of Buckingham's discomfort.
However when her only son, a weak lad not then
of age, died in 1735, she resolved to give the town
such a sight as it had not witnessed before. She

tTbe Bucbese's toealtb fails 623

began by having a wax figure of the lad laid out in
regal state, when she sent word to her friends that
if they had a mind to see it " she would carry them
in conveniently by a back door." She next asked
the Duchess of Marlborough to lend her the late
duke's funeral car ; when Sarah indignantly replied,
" It carried my Lord Marlborough and shall never be
used for anybody else." Her grace of Buckingham was
not to be silenced by such an answer, for she at once
wrote back, " I have consulted with the undertaker and
he tells me I may have a finer for twenty pounds."

Though Sarah Duchess of Marlborough remained
mentally vigorous, her health had begun to fail and
her years to impress their weight upon her. Writing
to the Earl of Marchmont in December 1735, when
she was in her seventy-sixth year, she complains of
having the gout, and that her limbs are much weaker
than they were. " At my age," she adds, " I cannot
expect to continue long, nor have I now anything
left to make me desirous of it." In the same letter
she says it is a long time since she had the honour
to pay her duty at Court ; " but I was told," she
continues, " that very lately a very great lady took
occasion publicly in the drawing-room to talk of
the poor dear Duke of Marlborough in the most
foolish and indecent manner that ever anybody did.
But I think what that person says can do nobody
any hurt, not even herself, because she never passed
one day without affronting somebody or other, and
sometimes when it is intended for compliments."

624 tTbe <aueen'0 Comtabe

The very great lady referred to, was probably the
Duchess of Shrewsbury, formerly Adelaide, Marchioness
di Paleotti, an Italian widow with whom the Duke
of Shrewsbury had long been intimate whilst abroad,
and whom her brothers compelled him to marry
when he would have returned to England without
her. Sarah Duchess of Marlborough who disliked
her, described the Duchess of Shrewsbury as tc a very
old woman, an Italian Papist, who had upon this
marriage professed herself a Protestant." On her
arrival in this country, she had been received at Court
and by society as if no dark tales besmirched her
character. A woman of lively manner and quick
wit, her doings and sayings soon made her the laughter
of her circle, in which she heartily joined.

In time she became proud of furnishing the town
with amusement, and she told Lady Str afford that
a story was told about her, the duchess, every year,
but she liked that best which represented her as
going to Lady Oxford and saying, " Madam, I and
my lord are so weary of talking politics. What
are you and your lord ? " On which Lady Oxford
sighed and said she knew no lord but the Lord
Jehovah ; when the duchess made answer " Oh dear
me, who is that ? I believe 'tis one of the new titles,
for I never heard of him before."

The same authority for this tale, tells another of
her grace, in writing to Lord Strafford : " The Duchess
of Shrewsbury is at present very happy," says this
gossip, " for Colonel Murry is come from Scotland,

©mbre 625

with whom the town says she has an intreague. She
is in that as well as in all othere things, not in
the common way ; for last week in the Drawing-room,
Col Murry came in ; so she run to everybody she
knew ' Oh ' says she * here is Colonel Murry ; the
town says I have an intreague with him, so I should
not give him any of my pretty kind eyes, but I will
and smile on him too.' '

On the arrival of George I. in England, the duchess,
who could speak French and German fluently — the
only languages His Majesty understood — made herself
most agreeable to him ; playing sixpenny ombre with
him, telling him diverting stories that made him chuckle
with laughter, and gaining his favour to such a degree
that the courtiers declared she was a rival of Madame
Kilmansegg, the King's mistress who had escaped from
her creditors in Hanover, and joined His Majesty in
crossing to his new dominions.

Writing from Windsor Lodge in 1736, the Dowager
Duchess of Marlborough says : " One of my chief
pleasures is, that after such an hour, in this place, I
am sure I can see nobody. At Marlborough House
it is very different ; for there are many visitors, though
few that have any sense, or that are capable of any
friendship or truth. I would desire no more pleasure
than to walk about my gardens and parks, but alas
that is not permitted ; for I am generally wrapped up
in flannel, and wheeled up and down my rooms in a
chair. I cannot be very solicitous for life upon such
terms, when I can only live to have more fits of

626 trbe (S&ueen's Comrade

the gout. ... I never design to see Blenheim again ;
in a lodge I have everything convenient and without
trouble."

However she still continued to live, and five years
later on December loth, 1741, Horace Walpole who
heartily disliked the duchess because of her enmity
to his father Sir Robert, in writing to a friend says:

" Old Marlborough is dying — but who can tell ?
Last year she had lain a great while ill without
speaking ; her physicians said * she must be blistered
or she will die.' She called out ' I won't be blistered
and I won't die/ If she takes the same resolution
now I don't believe she will." She evidently did
take the same resolution, for she lived for nearly
three years after this date ; the greater part of her
time being spent at Blenheim, which she had seen
finished, at Windsor Lodge, which was her favourite
residence, or at Holywell House St. Albans, where
so much of her early married life had been spent.

Writing from one of these homes, which is not
specified, on March jrd, 1742, to the Earl of March-
mont, she says u I give you many thanks for the
favour of your letter ; and it is a pleasure to me to
find that you approve of my inclination in choosing
a quiet life in the country rather than being in London.
As I am of the simpler sex and four score, I am
sure I have nothing that can tempt me to change
my inclination, since I can be of no use to anybody ;
and though I know some that are very agreeable to
converse with, the uncertainty of seeing them, from

"Ubere must be some Great power " 627

their own natural calls and my ill-health, makes me
choose to live as I do, till something unavoidable
forces me to Marlborough House, where I cannot
avoid many troubles, which very much overbalances
the very few that I can hope to converse with."

After gently referring to the tyrants and fools that
had nearly brought the country to ruin, and the knaves
who to gain more were willing to hazard the losing
of all, she comes to more personal matters and declares
she is much obliged to his lordship and to Mr. Pope
for having the least thought of calling to see her ;
but at the same time the gout, from which she con-
tinually suffers, prevents her from having any pleasure
in conversation.

" But I think," she continues, " I am in no present
danger of death, and when it does come I hope I shall
bear it patiently, though I own I am not arrived at
so much philosophy as not to think torturing pain
an evil ; that is the only thing that I now dread, for
death is unavoidable ; and I cannot find that anybody
has yet demonstrated whether it is a good thing or
a bad one. Pray do not think me wicked in saying
this ; and if you talk to Mr. Pope of me, endeavour
to keep him my friend, for I do firmly believe the
immortality of the soul, as much as he does, though
I am not learned enough to have found out what
it is ; but as I am sure there must be some Great
Power that formed this world, that Power will
distinguish with rewards and punishments, otherwise
the wicked would be happier than the good, the first

628 Ube Queen's Comrafce

of which generally gratify all their passions, and those
that are most worthy are generally ill-treated and
most unhappy.

" I have tired you a great while with writing upon
things that you know I cannot possibly understand " ;
she concludes, " but this truth I can assure you, that
since I can remember, though I can give no account
of how it came to be so, I never feared anything so
much, as to do the least thing that I imagined could
possibly bring any shame upon me ; and therefore I
hope, that for small omissions my punishment will not
be severe, when I go out of this world ; and I think
there cannot possibly be a worse place of any long
continuance than this is at present."

Answers to this letter were sent by Lord Marchmont
and Pope, who banteringly assured her she was the
head of a school of philosophy in which they would
fain become scholars. In replying on March I5th,
she told the earl if she could only receive such notes
continually, she would never come to town ; for in
that way of conversing she could have all the pleasure
she could possibly propose " without the disappointment
when Mr. Pope falls asleep, or the dread of your
taking leave, because you were weary. In this way
of conversing I can make the visits as long as I
please, by reading them (the letters) over and over
again, and by staying here, avoid all that is disagreeable
to my temper at London, where I must go in a very
little while ; and when I am there, I shall see you
sometimes uncertainly, which is a delightful thing,

transmigration of Souls 629

for I cannot be of the opinion, that expectation makes
a blessing dear ; I think it seldom or never pays one
for the trouble of it ; but I shall always be pleased
to see your lordship and Mr. Pope, when you will
be so bountiful as to give me any part of your time."

After giving a straightforward blow to the base and
foolish politicians who vexed her spirit, she continues
by saying she believes her correspondent is as ignorant
as herself as to what the soul is ; but she persists in
thinking there must be rewards and punishments in
the after life. She had lately been reading the works
of some of her dear friends the philosophers, who
gave it as their opinion that the soul never died, but
went into some other man or beast ; and that seemed
to her an excellent argument for its immortality.

" And though the philosophers prove nothing to
my understanding certain," she says, " yet I have a
great mind to believe that kings' and first ministers'
souls, when they die, go into chimney sweepers. And
their punishment is, that they remember they were
great monarchs, were complimented by the Parliament
upon their great abilities, and thanked for the great
honour they did nations in accepting of the crown,
at the same time that they endeavoured to starve
them, and were not capable of doing them the least
service, though they gave him all the money in the
nation. This I think would be some punishment,
though not so much as they deserve, supposing the
great persons they had been, and the condition they
were reduced to.

630 TOe (Queen's Comrade

" What gave me this thought of a chimney sweeper
was an accident. My servants that are very careful
of me, were fearful that, having a fire night and day
four months together in my chamber, I might be
frightened when I could not rise out of my bed, if
the chimney was on fire, and persuaded me to have
it swept, which I consented to ; and one of the chimney
sweepers was a little boy, a most miserable creature
without shoes, stockings, breeches or shirt. When
it was over I sent a servant of mine to Windsor with
him, to equip this poor creature with what he wanted,
which cost very little, not being so well dressed as
the last Privy Seal, Lord Hervey. And as I could
not be sure the souls of these chimney sweepers had
come from great men, I could not repent of their being
so much overpaid as they were."

The remainder of this letter is taken up by an
account of her latest grievance. Being weary of bailiffs,
stewards, agents and lawyers, she desired to lend some
money to the Government upon the land tax, but
Mr. Sandys, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, said that
Government would take no money of hers if he could
hinder it, and gave as his reason that she had spoken
ill of him, which much diverted her grace.

The special object of her visit to London, mentioned
in her reply to Lord Marchmont, was to undertake
the writing of a book describing some of the incidents
of her life at Court, and giving the letters written to
her by Queen Anne, on the political events or family
incidents touched on ; they being a selection of those

H Matm Disciple of ffenelon 631

she had threatened to publish during that Sovereign's
lifetime. This booklet, which was first given to the
public in 1742, when its author was in her eighty-
second year, was called " An Account of the Conduct
of the Dowager-Duchess of Marlborough, from her
first coming to Court to the year 1710." Its contents
were little more than a resetting of certain narratives
she had written years previously for the defence of
her actions, and the enlightenment of her friends. As
she desired the help of some literary man to prepare
them for the Press, the polite Lord Chesterfield recom-
mended Nathaniel Hooke, whom Bishop Warburton
described as " a mystic and quietist and a warm disciple
of Fenelon."

Nathaniel Hooke, the son of a sergeant-at-law,- like
so many another, had been ruined by the South Sea
scheme. He had then become an author by profession,
for which his dulness little fitted him, and diligently
busied himself in writing his Roman history. On being
recommended by Lord Chesterfield to the duchess, as a
secretary, he had waited on her grace, whom he found
in bed. Causing herself to be propped up, this infirm
but indomitable old woman entered into a conversation
with him that lasted six hours, and might have gone
on much longer if he had not become exhausted from
want of food. From that day forward, the work she
engaged him to help her with was continued, she talking
to him for hours, without the aid of notes, but
delivering her narrative in a lively and connected
manner. She would not, however, aDow her letters

VOL. n. 20

632 ZTbe dueen's Comrafce

to leave her possession, which probably led Hooke to
the opinion he afterwards expressed, that they were
garbled. So pleased was she at first with her
amanuensis, that she would have him live in her
house, and whilst there employed him on a delicate
mission.

Some time previously her grace, whose earnest
endeavours were directed to honour the memory of
her dead lord, had offered a handsome reward to
Alexander Pope — with whom the correspondence just
quoted shows she wished to stand well — if he would
write a laudatory poem or " Character " regarding the
late duke. But though Pope by no means despised
money, he refused this bribe, as he was no admirer of
the great general, whom he had described, in some
trenchant lines, unpublished at this date, as one whom
the meanest need not envy.

It is more than probable that the duchess was
unaware of this, but it is certain she knew that Pope
had satirised herself under the name of Atossa, with
that sardonic scorn which was the scourge and dread
of his enemies. With some sense of humour he had
read this poem to the Duchess of Buckingham, telling
her it was intended for Sarah of Marlborough, to the
great satisfaction of his hearer ; and then had it read
to the latter with the assurance that it was intended
for Her Grace of Buckingham. But the references to
her fury, hatred, ingratitude, and "unrespected age,"
soon revealed to the astute Sarah, whose portrait the
poet had sketched ; when she suddenly called out, " I

tbe Bucfoess quarrels witb Ifooofee 633

cannot be so imposed upon ; I see plainly enough for
whom these lines are designed," and then followed
vigorous and plentiful abuse of the diminutive poet
who had written them.

She was wise enough, however, to keep civil with
Pope, for it became her greatest fear that he would
give this likeness of her sketched in vitriol to the
world. Knowing that Nathaniel Hooke was a friend
of Pope, she secretly commissioned him to treat on
her behalf with the poet for the suppression of his
lines ; when on her paying the round sum of a
thousand pounds, Pope promised to destroy them.
So grateful was the duchess to Hooke, that she re-
warded him with five thousand pounds ; and then,
after showing him much favour, she suddenly quarrelled
with and dismissed him. The cause of this, according
to Hooke, was, that finding her grace without religion,
he thought it an act of no common charity to give her
his own ; which the duchess put more tersely by saying
" the man had striven to convert her to Popery."

Compliments, presents of venison, and friendly letters
now passed between her grace and Pope ; to whom she
sent a manuscript copy of the account of her conduct,
to read and comment on. In reply he wrote to her :
" I can't express to your grace the satisfaction the
reading of your papers gave me, as they are now
dressed, as you call it. When the remainder is orna-
mented a little in the like manner, they will certainly
be fit to appear anywhere, and (like truth and beauty)
conquer wherever they appear. Thus you have my

634 tTbe (SSlueen's Comtabe

judgment and advice in one word which you asked
and (which is more than you asked) under my hand."

This show of friendliness continued up to the date
of his death, May 3Oth, 1744, shortly before which
she received the last letter he wrote to her, in which
he said : —

" I was unwilling to inform you how bad I was,
and am unwilling to inform you how bad I am still,
tho' I've again let blood and taken a hundred medicines.
I am become the whole business now of my two
servants, and have not, and yet cannot stir from my
bed and fireside. All this I meant to have hid from
you by my little note yesterday. For I really think
you feel too much concern for those you think your
friends, and I would rather die quietly, and slink out
of the world, than give any good heart much trouble
for me living or dead. The first two or three days
that I feel any life return I will pass a part of it at
your bedside. In the meantime I beg God to make
our condition supportable to us both."

On hearing of his death, the dowager duchess, who
must have had her suspicions of Pope's good faith,
became anxious to have his papers examined, lest he had
left the dreaded character amongst them. She therefore
appealed to her friend Lord Marchmont to have a
search made of the poet's manuscripts, by permission
of Viscount Bolingbroke, whom Pope had appointed
as his literary executor. Lord Marchmont both spoke
and wrote on this subject to Lord Bolingbroke, who
in replying to him says : —

"Btossa" 635

" The arrival of your servant with the message from
Lord Stair gives me an opportunity of telling you
that I continue in the resolution I mentioned to you
last night, upon what you said to me from the
Duchess of Marlborough. It would be a breach of
that trust and confidence which Pope reposed in me
to give any one such of his papers as I think that
no one should see. If there are any that may be
injurious to the late duke or to her grace, even
indirectly or covertly, as I hope there are not, they
shall be destroyed ; and you shall be a witness to
their destruction."

At the time this was written Lord Bolingbroke
had not made himself acquainted with the poet's
affairs ; but when he had he quickly wrote to Lord
Marchmont saying, " Our friend Pope, it seems,
corrected and prepared for the press, just before
his death, an edition of the four Epistles that
follow the Essay on Man. They are printed off
and are now ready for publication. I am sorry for
it, because if he could be excused for writing the
character of Atossa formerly, there is no excuse for
his design of publishing it after the favour you and
I know ; and the character of Atossa is inserted.
I have a copy of the book. Warburton has the
proprietary of it, as you know. Alter it he cannot
by the terms of the will. Is it worth while to
suppress this edition, or should her grace's friends say,
(as they may from several strokes in it) that it was
not intended for her character, and should she despise

636 Ube (SSlueen's Comrade

it? If you come over hither we may talk better
than write on the subject."

Consultation resulted in having the edition sup-
pressed, for which no doubt the duchess was willing
to compensate the publisher, and the offensive lines
never saw the light during her grace's life ; but two
years after her death they were published in a folio
sheet, when, it is to be hoped, they had no longer
power to vex her spirit.

Meanwhile the " Account of her Conduct " — which
after the fashion of the day, was addressed as a letter
to a noble lord — had been given to the public. The
duchess begins hy saying she had been often told
that some people were indifferent, not only as to
whether they should be remembered after death, but
whether, in case their names survived them, they
should be mentioned with praise or infamy. This
was a philosophy infinitely beyond her reach, and she
owned it seemed to her too refined and sublime
to be attained by anybody who had not first got
rid of the prejudices of common sense and common
honesty. She will not pretend to say that the passion
for fame may not sometimes be excessive and de-
servedly the subject of ridicule ; but she thinks there
never was a single instance of an honourable person
who was willing to be spoken of, either during life
or after it, as a betrayer of his country or of his
friend.

After having shrewdly remarked that those who
are indifferent as to what the world will say of them

"Hccount of 1bet Conduct" 637

when they are out of it, are quite as unconcerned
to deserve a good character whilst they are in it,
she continues that, for her part, she frankly confesses
that from the moment she could distinguish between
good and evil, her ambition had been to gain a
good name.

" My chief aim," she writes, "if I have any
acquaintance with my own heart, has been, both in
public and private life, to deserve approbation ; but
I have never been without an earnest desire to have it
too, both living and dead, from the wise and virtuous.
My lord, this passion has led me to take more pains
than you would easily imagine. It has sometimes
carried me beyond the sphere to which the men have
have thought proper, and, generally speaking, with
good reason, to confine our sex."

She then states that after her dismissal from Queen
Anne's service, she had drawn up an account of her
own conduct which she intended to publish imme-
diately, but was dissuaded from doing so by a person
of great eminence in his day, whom she thought her
friend, who considered that prejudice and passion
were then too violent to allow the voice of reason to
be heard ; but that these would in time subdue and
the truth would then unavoidably prevail. " I fol-
lowed the advice with the less reluctance," writes the
duchess, " as being sure of the power of an easy
vindication whenever my patience should be push'd
to extremity."

Later she wrote another account of her conduct

638 Ube (fcueen's Gomrafce

regarding political parties and c< the successful artifice
of Mr. Harley and Mrs. Masham in taking advantage
of the Queen's passion for what she called the Church,
to undermine me in her affections " ; which was not
intended to be published until after her death. " But
my Lord," she continues, " as I am now drawing
near my end, and very soon there will remain nothing
of me but a name, I am grown desirous, under the
little capacity which age and infirmities have left me
for other enjoyments, to have the satisfaction before
I die of seeing that name (which from the station I
have held in the great world must unavoidably survive
me) in possession of what was only designed it for
a legacy. From this desire I have caused the several
pieces above mentioned to be connected together, and
thrown into the form, in which I now take the liberty
to address them to your lordship."

CHAPTER XII

Storm produced by the Dowager Duchess's Book — She
does not care what Fools or Mad People say —
Employs Henry Fielding to help Her in writing a
Vindication — The Duchess of Buckingham draws
near Her Death — The Ruling Passion strong in
Death — She makes Preparations for a Pompous
Funeral — Wishes to be laid beside King James —
Strange Vicissitudes attending His Majesty's
Remains — Candles burn round Them for over a
Century — Charles Duke of Marlborough and His
Grandmother — He knows not Right or Wrong —
The Dowager Duchess erects a Statue to Queen
Anne — Dwells on Former Days — Purchases a
Chamber Organ Which beguiles Her Loneliness —
Anxious to have a Biography of Her Husband
written — Collects Papers and Letters for the
Purpose — Employs Two Literary Men Whom She
instructs — Her Desire is never gratified — Her
Death at Marlborough House — The Terms of Her
Will — Jack Spencer becomes Her Heir.

639

CHAPTER XII

THE Account of her Conduct, produced a storm
which probably the duchess had not anticipated.
Coffee-house pamphleteers, ballad-mongers, writers for
the news sheets, and politicians, seizing on the book,
contradicted or drew disparaging remarks from its
statements, defended those it censured, and condemned
her conduct towards Queen Anne. Bitter indeed
must have been her feelings when she who was fated
to war with the world to the end of her days, read
these hostile comments on her pages ; and although
she declared, " I do not care what fools or mad
people say of me, which will always be a great
majority," she at the same time set about answering
one of the pamphlets which above all others was
more circumstantial in its statements, more severe
in its criticism. This bore the lengthy title, "A
Review of a Late Treatise entitled An account of
the Conduct of the Dowager Duchess of Marl borough,
etc. In which many misrepresentations are detected,
several Obscure Passages searched into and explained,
and Abundance of False Facts set in their true

642 TOC (Siueen's Comrafce

Light ; especially such as relate to the Reigns of
King William and Queen Mary, in a Letter to a
Person of Distinction."

As her grace could rely on the evidence of those
living to prove the truth of her statements, and could
quote letters which there was no denying, she was
assured of having the best of the controversy. But
she needed help to marshal her facts and arrange her
arguments ; and having dismissed Nathaniel Hooke,
she looked about for some one capable of giving a
literary form to her reply. Eventually her choice fell
on Henry Fielding, who about this time had published
his first novel "Joseph Andrews."

Although the son of a general, the grandson of a
baronet, and the great-grandson of an earl, this remark-
able man found himself in early life in circumstances so
unkind, that he had, as Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
relates, to choose between the career of a hackney
coachman and the career of a hackney writer. Selecting
the latter, he began by trying his hand at plays ; then
as now the most profitable form of literary work, his
first comedy coming out at Drury Lane in 1727,
when he was at the sprightly age of one and twenty.
From that time he wrote a number of plays to suit the
public taste and succeeded in making enough money
for the hour, which satisfied a man who was wholly
indifferent to the needs of next day. But at the age of
thirty, he gave up playwriting, married a wife whom
he passionately loved, studied law, and was called to the
Bar in 1740.

Jones " 643

Though the greatest affection existed between himself
and his wife, both were made miserable by his
irremediable improvidence ; for he was no sooner
in possession of a few pounds than he spent them
in reckless extravagance, sometimes living in decent
lodgings, at others in a miserable garret without
the necessaries of life ; now hiding from bailiffs and
again locked up in a sponging house. Always
needing money despite his genius and his friends,
yet quite happy when placed before a venison pasty
and a flask of champagne, this irresponsible man, who
was destined to write " Tom Jones," the greatest
novel of his day, was at this time glad to act as a
hack writer, politely called secretary, to the Duchess
of Marlborough.

So between them they drew up a pamphlet of forty
pages, called "A full Vindication of the Duchess
Dowager of Marlborough ; Both with regard to the
Account lately published by her Grace, and to her
Character in general ; against the base and malicious
Invectives contained in a late scurrilous Pamphlet,
entitled Remarks on the Account, etc. In a Letter to
the Noble Author of those Remarks."

The anger and worry caused by reading and answer-
ing the attacks made on her, had scarcely subsided
when news was brought to the Duchess of Marlborough,
that Her Grace of Buckingham, who had long divided
the attention of the town with herself, was drawing
near her last end, when pride, the ruling passion of
her life, showed itself strongest at her death. For

644 ftbe (Queens Comrafce

the duchess now devoted all her time in devising the
regal pomp and circumstance that must attend her to
the grave. Her first care was to have a wax figure
of herself made and magnificently dressed, which, after
being exhibited at her own house, she desired to have
placed in Westminster Abbey, as was then the custom
with royalty. She next sent for John Anstis, Garter
King-at-arms, to settle the ceremonial which would
attend her burial. And one day when those around
thought every moment would be her last, she suddenly
asked, " Why won't they send the canopy of the funeral
car for me to see ? Let them send it though the
tassels are not finished." Days passed and she still
survived, thinking of nothing save vanity ; and only
a few hours before she quitted the world, she made
her ladies-in-waiting vow to her, that if she should
lie senseless, they would not sit down in the room
before she was dead.

She died in March 1743.

It had at first been the poor lady's earnest desire
that she should be laid in death beside the remains
of James II., which, as already stated, were still above
earth, awaiting their final resting place. But seeing
the difficulties that prevented this wish from being
carried out, she eventually consented to be interred in
Westminster Abbey, where so many scions of her
royal house slept in peace, and where she hoped her
father would ultimately be removed.

It may be added that the body of the exiled King
remained in the Church of the Benedictines in the

3ame0' iJBofcs esbibfteb 645

Faubourg St. Jacques, for nearly a century, where
during all that time, candles were kept burning round
it night and day — until the frenzied mob of the French
Revolution broke into and desecrated the Church, and
forced open the royal coffin. Then this howling,
surging mob, defiant of all things sacred, glorying in
profanity, breathing blasphemy, and longing for
plunder, pressed forward with flaming eyes to see the
perfectly preserved remains and shrunken yellow face
of the King ; when swayed and chilled and frighted by
some subtle mysterious feeling, they turned away and
left him in peace.

The body was then taken possession of by the
municipal authorities, whose officials reaped a profit-
able harvest by exhibiting it to the rabble for a few
sous a head ; so that in death as in life, strange
vicissitudes followed this unfortunate monarch. Ulti-
mately, Robespierre directed that the remains should
be buried, but the many and startling events that
convulsed the country at this direful time, prevented
his orders from being obeyed ; and it was not until
1813, when the Allies entered Paris, that by directions
of George IV. the embalmed body of King James
was with all becoming state removed from Paris and
laid in the Church of St. Germains.

In June 1743, the Duke of Marlborough suddenly
threw up his Court employments, in the hope, as
Horace Walpole said, of reinstating himself in his
grandmother's will. When told of his resignation the
old duchess merely remarked, " It is very natural ; he

646 Ube (Siueen's Comrafce

listed as soldiers do when they are drunk, and repented
when he was sober."

As there seemed little sign of her relenting in his
favour or relieving him of his debts, the duke begged
John Scrope, secretary of the Treasury, who had become
her correspondent and friend, to plead on his behalf
with the dowager duchess. This John Scrope did with
some caution but without much effect, for a few days
afterwards she wrote to him saying : " When I saw
you last you said something concerning the Duke of
Marlborough, which occasions you this trouble, for
you seem to have a good opinion of him and to wish
that I would make him easy. This is to show you,
that as to the good qualities you imagine he has,
you are mistaken, and that it is impossible to make
him easy. I will now give you the account of what
has happened not long since."

She continued by saying that when he quitted all
his employments, he wrote to tell her he had heard
she approved of what he had done. " I answered this
civilly," says the duchess, " saying that his behaviour
to me had been so extraardinary for many years, I
thought it necessary to have a year or two's experience
how he would perform his great promises, and that I
wished him very well. This was giving him hopes,
though with the caution of a lawyer."

Soon after he began to treat, she says, with the
Jews, and asked her to become one of his securities ;
on which as she states, " I gave him a grandmother's
advice, telling him the vast sums he had taken up at

pensions ate not lfteat>£ jflDoneE 647

more than twenty per cent., were as well secured as
when the people lent the money ; that I thought he
would make a much better figure if he lived upon
as little as he possibly could, than ever he had done
in throwing away so much money, and let his creditors
have all that was left out of his estate as far as it would
go, and pay what more was due to them, when accidents
or death increased his revenue, for I could not join in
anything that would injure myself, or the settlement
of his grandfather."

The duke then assured her he would rather starve
than do anything she disapproved of, but a few days
later he had mortgaged certain properties which he
was to inherit at her death. " He has a great deal
in him like his father," she comments, " but I cannot
say he has any guilt, because he really does not know
what is right and what is wrong, and will always
change every three days what he designed, from the
influence and flatteries of wretches who think of nothing
but of getting something for themselves ; and if I
should give him my whole estate he would throw
it away as he has done his grandfather's ; and he
would come at last to the Treasury for a pension
for his vote. But I believe you have seen as well
as I, that pensions and promises at Court are not
ready money."

Even in the last year of her life this wonderful
old woman, still mentally vigorous, occupied herself
about business affairs, in writing her will and regulating
her vast property, and in seeing her friends who found

VOL. II. 21

648 ZCbe diueen's Comrade

her very communicative and entertaining on all topics
save that touching on her relations with Queen Anne,
whom she never mentioned disrespectfully.

It is probable that with the passage of years her
vindictive feelings towards her former royal mistress
and generous friend had softened ; that tolerance if
not affection, had replaced the hatred which, on hearing
of Her Majesty's death had made the duchess say,
<c Queen Anne died like a Roman, for her country's
good." For after writing a spiteful u character " of
her benefactress to be used in the " History of his
own Times," which Bishop Burnet was writing, and
that he, though anxious to oblige her grace had
rejected, she raised a statue to Queen Anne, at Blenheim,
on the pedestal of which she caused to be inscribed a
laudatory tribute to Her Majesty's memory. It is
however to be feared that this was done with a view
to vexing a living queen as much as to praising a
dead one ; for in the Coxe manuscripts a sentence
referring to it says, " This character of Queen Anne
is so much the reverse of Queen Caroline, that I
think it will not be liked at Court."

In her latter days the duchess delighted in recalling
the far removed years of her youth with their sudden
uprise and rich rewards; the swift political changes
she had aided or witnessed ; and in dwelling on the
inner histories of the Courts in which she had served,
the intimate ways of royalties with whom she had
associated, the courtiers who had been her con-
temporaries ; in all a grasping, scheming, sordid, paltry

"H IRew Business" 649

crowd, whose burning ambitions and passions, whose
triumphs, humiliations, or vexations, were now as
toys that had dropped from the hands of sleepy
children.

Lady Louisa Stuart says that in speaking of herself,
the dowager duchess attempted no self-vindication,
" but told facts just as they were, or as she believed
them to be, with an openness and honesty that almost
redeemed her faults ; though this might partly proceed
from never thinking herself in the wrong, or caring
what was thought of her by others."

Almost daily she was carefully wrapped in shawls
and wheeled in a chair about the grounds of whatever
residence she occupied, whilst she beguiled her hours
of loneliness by listening to a chamber organ that
" could be performed by the most ignorant person,"
and was then thought one of the most wonderful
inventions of the age. It had been brought from
abroad and raffled for, royalty taking tickets, " instead
of buying it," as the duchess said, and had been won
by one from whom she purchased it for a thousand
pounds, " an infinitely less sum than some bishopricks
have been sold for," as she remarked. So for hours
she listened to its eight tunes, and consoled herself
by thinking she enjoyed the music more than if at
an Italian opera or a fashionable assembly.

In September 1744, just a month before her death,
she told a correspondent that she had entered " on
a new business," which was the sorting, arranging,
and tying up of bundles of papers and letters relating

650 Ube (Queen's Comrade

to events in the lives of her husband and Lord
Godolphin, as materials for a biography of the former.
She enthusiastically declared that such a book would
make " the most charming history that had ever yet
been writ in any country," and she continues by
saying, " I would rather if I were a man, have deserved
to have such an account certified of me, as will be
of the two lords that are mentioned, than have the
greatest pension or estate settled on me."

Soon after the duke's death a paragraph in the
Weekly Journal, stated, " It has been industriously
reported that his grace has left the history of his
life and actions in his own handwriting ; which since
his death have been put into the hands of Sir Richard
Steele, in order to be published with all suitable
decoration." Whatever foundation of truth this may
have had, no life of the duke appeared until 1736,
when a small volume, chiefly concerned with his grace's
campaigns abroad, and giving little idea of the man
outside his exploits as a soldier, was written by Thomas
Lediard, who at various times had been attached to
the duke's staff, and was secretary to His Majesty's
envoy at Hamburg. That it did not satisfy the
duchess is certain ; for she was now determined that
a full and detailed life of her husband should be given
to the world.

To help her in this great undertaking she employed
David Mallet and Richard Glover, who were more or
less known as writers, ready to indite odes and dedica-
tions to lordly patrons, or ply their pens for or against

Bax>R> /l&allet 651

political men or schemes, for suitable considerations.
David Mallet was a Scotchman belonging to the
Macgregor clan, who began life as a tutor in the
house of a great man ; a bondage from which he
escaped on making the acquaintance of James Thomson,
author of " The Seasons." Instigated by his example,
Mallet began to write odes and pastorals, and finally
furnished the stage with two blank verse tragedies,
Eurydice and Mustapha, each ponderous and
pedantic. Both were produced at Drury Lane Theatre,
when the latter met with such success that it ran for
fourteen nights, chiefly because its high-flown sentences
and long - winded speeches were directed against
George II., and therefore patronised by his son
Frederick Prince of Wales, between whom a bitter
feud existed. As a reward for his offences against
His Majesty, David Mallet was made under-secretary
to the Prince, for which he received two hundred a
year. It is also possible that for the same reason
the dowager duchess, who likewise detested the King,
selected this playwright as one of her husband's
biographers.

Richard Glover, who was to collaborate with him,
also laid claim to the title of poet ; for at the age
of sixteen he had written an ode to Sir Isaac Newton,
and in 1737 a dull poem called cc Leonidas " ; which,
though in blank verse and in nine books, was praised
by good-natured Fielding, and ran into four editions.
Its success was due to its being a manifesto against
the Prime Minister, Sir Robert Walpole, whose

652 Ube Queen's Comrade

opponents liberally subscribed for it. Mallet's enmity
against Walpole, must have been a sufficient recom-
mendation to the duchess, as a writer suitable for the
task she required.

That Mallet and Glover began the work they were
soon to abandon, is evident from her grace's letter
to Mr. Scrope, in which she says, that though
occasionally she suffered pain, she had been able to
hear read, some of the letters intended for the Duke's
biography. " And I hope " continues this old lady
of eighty-four " I shall live long enough to assist the
historians with all the assistance they can want from
me ; I shall be content when I have done all in my
power. Whenever the stroke comes I only pray that
it may not be very painful, knowing that everybody
must die ; and I think that whatever the next world
is, it must be better than this, at least to those that
never did deceive any mortal. I am very glad that
you like what I am doing, and though you seem to
laugh at my having vapours, I cannot help thinking
you have them sometimes yourself, though you don't
think it manly to complain.

" I send you a copy of a paper, which is all I have
done yet with my historians. I have loads of papers
in all my houses that I will gather together to inform
them ; and I am sure that you will think, that never
any two men deserved so well from their country as
the Duke of Marlborough and my Lord Godolphin
did."

The dowager duchess's hopes of seeing her husband's

Deatb of tbe Ducbess 653

biography finished, were never gratified ; for a few
weeks after this letter was written, on October i8th,
1744, she died at Marlborough House. But little
mention is made of the event in the newspapers of
the day. The General Advertiser of the I9th says,
" Yesterday morning at nine o'clock died at her house
in St. James's Park, Her Grace the Dowager Duchess
of Marlborough, in the eighty-fifth year of her age,
being born on the 29th of May 1660 ; the Day of the
Restoration of King Charles the Second to the Throne
of these Realms." And the same paper of the 27 th
of October states, " On Wednesday next the corpse of
the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough is to be carried
from her house in St. James's, in a private manner to
be interred at Blenheim."

Here after her long life of storm and stress she was
laid to rest beside her husband.

According to the directions of her will, her funeral
was private and conducted "with no more expense
than decency requires " ; whilst mourning was not to
be given to any one save those of her servants who
attended the ceremony. To several of these, annuities
were given. The bulk of her vast property, chiefly
consisting of land which she had acquired since her
husband's death, was left, not to her grandson Charles,
second Duke of Marlborough, but to his brother and
her favourite, Jack Spencer, on the condition that
should he "become bound or surety for any person
or persons whatever for any sum or sums of money,
or if he or any person or persons in trust for him,

654 tTbe Queen's Comrade

shall take from any king or queen of these realms any
pension, or any office or employment, civil or military
(except the rangership of the great or little parks at
Windsor), then shall all these my intents and covenants
in behalf of the said John Spencer become void, as if
he were actually dead." In telling Lord Stair of this
proviso at the time it was made, the duchess said she
thought it ought to please everybody ; " for it will
secure my heirs in being very considerable men. None
of them can put on a fool's coat, and take posts from
soldiers of experience and seuvice, who never did
anything but kill pheasants and partridges."

To her only surviving daughter, Mary, Duchess of
Montagu, she gave her gold snuff-box which had two
portraits of the great duke when a youth; also the
miniature painted of him by order of Queen Anne,
and covered with a large diamond ; together with two
enamel pictures for a bracelet, of Lady Sunderland, and
Lady Bridgewater. This must have seemed a small
legacy compared with others left to strangers, such as
twenty thousand pounds and her largest brilliant
diamond ring to Philip Earl of Chesterfield, " out of
the great regard she had for his merit, and the infinite
obligations she had received from him " ; and ten
thousand pounds to William Pitt "upon account of
his merit in the noble defence he made for the support
of the laws of England, and to prevent the ruin of
his country."

In a codicil of her will, she left five hundred pounds
each to the men she had engaged to write her husband's

ITbe Cornell of 1bet Mill 655

biography ; a work which was subject to conditions.
" Her grace," says the paragraph referring to it,
" desires Mr. Glover and Mr. Mallet may write the
history of the Duke of Marlborough, that it may be
known to the world how truly the late duke wished
that justice should be done to all mankind, who, her
grace was sure, left King James with great regret,
and at a time when it was plain it was with hazard
to himself; and if he had been like the patriots of
the present times, he might have been all that an
ambitious man could have hoped for, by assisting King
James to settle Popery in England. Her grace says
she should be extremely obliged to the Earl of
Chesterfield, who never had any call to give himself
any trouble about her, if he would comply with her
very earnest request, which is, that he will direct the
two persons above mentioned, who are to write the
said history, which she is extremely desirous should
be well done. Her grace desires that no part of the
said history be in verse ; and that it may not begin
in the usual form of histories, but only from the
Revolution. And she directs that the said history
shall before it is printed, have the approbation of the
Earl of Chesterfield and all her executors."

A copy of the duchess's will was printed in the
newspapers of the day ; in referring to which Horace
Walpole, in writing to Horace Mann, says, "You
will see the particulars of old Maryborough's will in
the Evening Posts of this week. It is as extravagant
as one should have expected ; but I delight in her

VOL. II. 22

656 Ube (Queen's Comrade

begging that no part of the Duke of Marborough's
life may be written in verse by Glover and Mallet,
to whom she gives five hundred pounds apiece for
writing it in prose. There is a great deal of humour
in the thought."

His grace's biography was never written by these
authors. Glover resented the power vested in Lord
Chesterfield, of revising his labours, and declared that
" the capricious restrictions of the will compelled him
to reject the undertaking." But David Mallet
accepted his own and Glover's legacies, on the con-
dition that he would write the life. That he was an
unscrupulous man is proved by his selling for a
hundred and fifty pounds to a publisher, and without
their owner's knowledge, some letters entrusted to
him by Lord Bolingbroke, to be used with advantage
to his own character, in the biography of the duke ;
and by the base use he made of his supposed occu-
pation to gain his own ends. An amusing illustration
of this, which at the same time shows the inordinate
vanity of a great actor, is given in Tom Davies' " Life
of David Garrick."

According to this authority who knew both men,
Mallet putting a copy of his new play Elvira, in his
pocket, waited one day on Garrick, then manager of
Drury Lane. Whilst anxious to have Elvira produced,
Mallet feared lest a direct offer of it might be refused,
as his former efforts at writing for the stage had not
been profitable to the actor manager. However the
playwright had carefully devised a plan by which he

"H pretty Snuo IFUcbe for l£ou" 657

hoped to gain the manager's favour, and presently on
being asked by Garrick what had lately employed his
talents, he answered that he was eternally fatigued in
arranging materials for the life of the great Duke of
Marlborough. All his nights and days were occupied
with that history, " and you know Mr. Garrick, that it
is a very bright and interesting period in the British
annals. But hark you my friend," he continued, " Do
you know I have found out a pretty snug niche for you
in it ? " Garrick's vanity at once flamed at the idea.
" How, how's that ? A niche for me? " said he, his eyes
sparkling with pleasure. " How the devil could you
bring me into the history of John Churchill, Duke of
Marlborough?" "Ah that is my business my dear
friend," answered Mallet, " but I tell you I have done
it." Hearing which Garrick said, " Well faith
Mallet, you have the art of surprising your friends in
the most unexpected and the politest manner. But
why don't you, who are so well qualified, write something
for the stage ? You should relax. Inter pone tuis. Ha
you know, for I'm sure the theatre is a mere matter of
diversion, a pleasure to you."

" Why faith," answered Mallet, " to tell you the truth
I have, whenever I could rob the duke of an hour or so,
employed myself in adapting La Motte's Ines de Castro
to the English stage, and here it is." The manager
took the play with every appearance of delight, and
produced it, when it ran no longer than nine nights.

Writing fifteen years after the death of the Dowager
Duchess of Marlborough, Horace Walpole states that

658 TTbe (Queen's Comrade

Mallet still defers publishing his life of the duke ; for
sometimes he says he will wait till peace is proclaimed,
and at others that he is translating it into French that
he may have additional advantage from it. It seems
strange that during all this time none of the duke's
descendants was interested enough in the work to insist
on its production, or even see to its progress ; for when
Mallet died in 1765, it was found he had made no
attempt to carry out his contract.

It was not until 1818, that an authentic life of the
duke was written by William Coxe, Archdeacon of
Wilts, who had been tutor to the then Duke of
Marlborough, and who was furnished for his task as a
biographer with the immense collection of papers and
letters the duchess had arranged over seventy years
previously ; the greater part of which he was unable to
use, and that after her death passed into the possession
of the British Museum. Other memoirs of the duke
followed his conscientiously written but dull volumes,
the most interesting and illuminating being the
*' Life of the Duke of Marlborough to the Accession of
Queen Anne/' by Lord Wolseley.

THE END.

Printed by Hazel/, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.

DA Molloy, Joseph Fitzgerald
462 The queen's comrade

M4M6
v.2

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY