CHAPTER IX.
Final separation between the Queen and the Duchess—Some anecdotes of Dr. and Mrs. Burnet—Dr. Burnet remonstrates with the Queen—The Queen’s obstinacy—Dismissal of Lord Godolphin—Letter from the Duchess to the Queen—1710.
The Queen and the Duchess never met again. But, in the midst of enemies, there were not wanting friends, faithful to the Duchess, and true to the Queen and constitution, who ventured to remonstrate with her Majesty upon the hazardous change in her counsels which her whole demeanour augured.
Amongst those who privately and earnestly pointed out the impending dangers and difficulties, was the Bishop of Salisbury, Dr. Burnet, who has done ample justice to the “economy and fidelity of the Duchess to the Queen, and justice to those who dealt with the crown,” whichthe Duchess of Marlborough manifested in her brilliant, but arduous career.[166]
Dr. Burnet had been assimilated with the Duchess in political, and in what was then considered almost as the same thing, religious, opinions. A close intimacy existed between the Duchess and the exemplary and third wife of the excellent prelate, the last of his three consorts, all of whom had been distinguished either in rank, in piety, or attainments. Mrs. Burnet took an active part in the concerns of the Duchess, who frequently communicated with her, and received letters in return, discussing the topics which then agitated the world, within the precincts of the court. At this time a staid matron of nine-and-forty, Mrs. Burnet could well remember the agitated times of James the Second, during whose reign she had retired with her first husband, Mr. Berkley of Spetchley Castle, Worcestershire, to Holland, to avoid the calamitous scenes which she expected to witness, and had remained at the Hague until the Revolution. Distinguished for piety, benevolence, and virtue, it was the lot of Mrs. Berkley, after a happy union with her first husband, to be left an opulent widow, in the prime of life. It was her choice to devote herself,for the seven years of that isolated, but possibly not dreary state, to works of charity, and to studies which would have adorned the leisure of the learned lords of creation. By her exertions, schools for the poorer classes, then little regarded in general, were established in the neighbourhood of Worcester and Salisbury. By her superior, although not classical attainments, she obtained the friendship of Dr. Stillingfleet, who declared that he knew not in England a more considerable woman than Mrs. Berkley. In his union with this amiable woman Bishop Burnet was eminently happy. Her influence in society tended, as that of every woman should, to make virtue throw its beams “far in a naughty world;” to elevate domestic, sober qualities in the eyes of men, by proving them to be compatible with the highest attainments; to be the counsellors as well as the solace of those whose vocation leads them to dive into the troubled waters of life.
The Bishop, who proved to all his wives an excellent husband, left to this, his last and his best, the disposal of her own fortune, and the entire charge of his numerous family. Mrs. Burnet, it is evident from many passages in the Duke of Marlborough’s letters, was not only the intimate associate and correspondent of the Duchess, but the object of respect and esteem to all the greatleaders of the Whig ministry. She gained that ascendency, doubtless, in a great measure by her moderation—a quality which proves to the actors in difficult times as beneficial as the mariner’s compass to a vessel at sea. It was a quality in which her eminent husband was peculiarly deficient, and the want of which obscured those great and good qualities, and that real regard for truth, for which his contemporaries did not give him justice, and which posterity has slowly and, as it were, reluctantly assigned to him.
Mrs. Burnet, unhappily for those whom she instructed by her example, or guided by her influence, was, at this time, no more. The winter of 1708 had witnessed her death, from a pleuritic fever attending the breaking up of the frost in January. With consistent attention to all her engagements, she was buried at Spetchley, by the side of her first husband, in compliance with a promise made to him. And on this delicate point she thought it proper to leave an explanation in her will, for the consolation of her second helpmate, Dr. Burnet.[167]
The afflicted and then aged prelate did not survive his wife more than six years; and the close of his eventful and laborious life was saddened by seeing those principles which he had consistentlycontemned, triumph, and produce renewed confusion and contention. Dr. Burnet was, however, unhappily for his party, but little qualified to advance its popularity by his courtesy, or to gain proselytes by any other measures than an earnest, sincere preference of certain principles. His conversation was singularly deficient in the arts of address; his sincerity was involuntary, and in certain situations provokingly obtrusive. His love of politics, in which he took perhaps too great a share for one engaged in concerns of far higher importance, was derived, according to his own account, from the conversation of his father, who had the same fondness for politics as the excellent prelate himself, and whose arguments and anecdotes engendered that taste in the mind of his son.[168]Hence sprang up that ardent, active, and unquiet character, adapted to do some good, but to incur much censure, in such times as those in which the Bishop lived. The character of Burnet, written by the Marquis of Halifax, and given by that nobleman himself to the Bishop, portrays with much delicacy of touch, and probably in not too severe a light, both the brilliant parts and the strong shadows of Burnet’s mind: it brings to view the singleness of heart, the impetuosity of temper, the quicknessto be offended, the readiness to forgive, the disinterestedness, the christian heroism, which were offensive to lesser men, from the high example which they presented, and which could not, without inconvenience to more selfish minds, be imitated.
Qualified thus to obtain respect, and having long exercised a considerable control over the Queen’s spiritual concerns, Dr. Burnet now undertook, in the crisis of her affairs, to remonstrate with his obstinate, and as he considered, misled sovereign. Perhaps, if certain anecdotes be true, there could not be a person less qualified in manner, although admirably in intention, for so delicate a task. The Bishop had an awkward habit of remembering any circumstance disgraceful to an individual, and a still more awkward practice of letting those facts escape, in conversation, just at the moment when all the proprieties of life required that they should be concealed. When Prince Eugene, some time after this period, visited England, Dr. Burnet, anxious to see so remarkable a person, requested the Duke of Marlborough to accomplish a meeting between him and the Prince in society. The Duke consented, on condition that the Bishop would be careful to let nothing drop from him which might offend the feelings of his illustrious guest; andDr. Burnet was invited to dine, in company with the Prince, at Marlborough-house. It was not beyond the remembrance of most of the party assembled, and certainly still in that of the Bishop, that Prince Eugene’s mother, the famous Countess of Soissons, had been imprisoned, about thirty years previously, with several other ladies of Paris, on suspicion of poisoning.[169]The Bishop had assuredly no intention of reminding Prince Eugene of this circumstance, and indeed, conscious of his infirmity, he resolved to sit incognito during dinner, and to listen, not to converse. Unluckily for the rest of the party, however, the brave Eugene, seeing a prelate at table, inquiredof the Duke of Marlborough who it was, and being told it was Bishop Burnet, addressed himself to him, and inquired, by way of conversation, when he had last been in Paris. The Bishop answered with precipitation, “that he did not exactly remember the year, but it was at the time that the Countess of Soissons was imprisoned.” As he spoke, his eye met that of the Duke of Marlborough, himself the quintessence of caution and courtesy; the poor Bishop was overpowered, and, by way of making the offence ten times greater, hastily asked pardon of his highness for his error.
The worthy Bishop’s asking after “that wicked wretch, the Countess of Wigton,” of her son, the Earl of Balcarres, and his avoiding Lord Mar because he did not like him, and knew that he could not avoid “babbling out something which would give him offence,” proved his involuntary propensity of speaking his thoughts, and his consciousness of that inconvenient propensity.
Dr. Burnet now, during the winter of 1710, undertook to speak to the Queen on her affairs, more freely than he had ever in his life done before. He told her the reports that prevailed, of her intention to favour the design of bringing the Pretender to the succession of the crown, on condition of her holding it during her life. Herepresented to her Majesty that her accordance in such a scheme would darken all the glory of her reign, and would arouse her people to a sense of their danger, and to the necessity of securing the Protestant succession; in which, the good Bishop assured her, he would plainly concur. He sought to work upon Anne’s timid temper, by declaring to her, that if such were her plans, he believed that her brother would not wait until the term of her natural life for his possession, but take some means to shorten it; and that he doubted not, when the Pretender was on the sea, there were “assassinates” here, who, upon the news of his landing, would try to despatch her. To these emphatic arguments the Queen listened patiently, and for the most part in silence, and, with her usual timid and crooked policy, gave the Bishop to understand that she thought as he did. Yet his remarks produced no effect upon her mind; and no other consolation was left to the Bishop than that of having honestly and forcibly delivered his sentiments.[170]
The appointment of the Duke of Shrewsbury to the office of Lord Chamberlain, in room of the Marquis of Kent, who was made a peer, was the next event talked of, after thelast stormy interview between the Queen and the Duchess. Godolphin, who was at Newmarket when the staff was given to Shrewsbury, remonstrated in vain with the Queen; and although the most positive assurances of fidelity to the Whigs were given by Shrewsbury, it was impossible for the ministry not to entertain considerable suspicions of his sincerity.
The dismissal of the Earl of Sunderland from the post of secretary of state, in the month of June, was the first decisive blow struck against the power of the Marlborough family. It was aggravated by the refusal of the Queen to listen to the remonstrances of Marlborough, and the epistolary arguments of Godolphin.
“No consideration proper to myself,” writes the Duchess, “could have induced me to trouble the Queen again, after our last conversation. But I was overcome by the consideration of Lord Marlborough, Lord Sunderland, and the public interest, and wrote in the best manner I could to the Queen, June seventh, 1710, begging, for Lord Marlborough’s sake, that she would not give him such a blow, of which I dreaded the consequence; putting her in mind of her letter about the victory of Blenheim, and adding the most solemn assurances, that I had not so much as a wish to remove Mrs. Masham, and that allthe noise that there had been about an address for that purpose had been occasioned by Lord Marlborough’s discontents at that time, which most people thought were just. To this the Queen wrote a very short and harsh answer, complaining that I had broken my promise of not saying anything of politics or of Mrs. Masham; and concluding that it was plain, from this ill usage, what she was to expect for the future.”[171]
There is little doubt but that the Duchess’s interference in this design, as she herself says, hastened its execution; certainly it did not retard it; for Lord Sunderland was dismissed from his office, greatly to the joy of the high church party, who extolled the Queen for her spirit in delivering herself from that arbitrary junto by whom she had been kept in an inglorious dependence. The Duke of Beaufort, one of this party, on appearing to pay his respects to her Majesty, complimented her “that he could now salute her as Queen indeed.” But poor Anne, unfortunately, scarcely ever enjoyed more than the shadow of that authority which was disputed by factions, both equally intent upon personal aggrandisement.
Changes in the ministry were now of daily occurrence.Henry St. John, the eloquent advocate of Tory principles, was made secretary of state. The Duke of Marlborough, whose skill in discovering the depth of any man’s capacity was acknowledged to be most profound, had already prognosticated that he would become an eminent statesman; but he wanted the firm foundation of integrity. Lord Chancellor Cowper resigned the seals, at first much to the discomposure of the Queen, who, with an unusual earnestness, begged him to keep them one day longer; but the next day, having consulted Harley and Masham, she received them readily, and gave them to Sir Simon Harcourt, an avowed adherent of the Pretender.[172]
Yet it was not until after other steps had been taken that affairs arrived at that point, according to the opinions of Godolphin and the Duchess, in which the game might be considered as utterly lost. For some months, indeed, the Whigs agreed to unite more firmly on these occasions, and determined that none of them should think of quitting, “but should rub on in that disagreeable way as long as they could.” Eventually, however, the current against them proved to be too strong even for an unanimous cabinet to contend against.
The most ungracious act of Anne’s reign was her dismissal of the disinterested, the faithful, loyal, and hard-working Godolphin. His disagreement with the Duke of Somerset, called, in derision, by his party, “the sovereign,” tended doubtless to split the forces which the Whigs could ill spare. Somerset was a proud, interested, and equivocal politician, whose personal views made him vacillate from side to side.[173]From the correspondence between Mr. Maynwaring and the Duchess of Marlborough at this time, it is evident that the Whigs depended much on the Duke of Somerset’s movements to decide the balance of power, notwithstanding the opinion entertained by the Duke of Marlborough “that he was an ill-judging man.” It is also obvious that the utmost persuasions were adopted, both by Maynwaring and by Mr. Craggs, to induce the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough not prematurely, nor unnecessarily, to throw up their employments; and there were even many persons who recommended the Duchess to “live easy with Mrs. Masham,” and who resented the Duchess’s indignant refusals to truckle, as the Duke termed it, to her arch-enemy.
At last the final blow against the ministry was struck, by the dismissal of Lord Godolphin.The probability of this event had been asserted ever since the removal of Lord Sunderland, but had been positively denied by Anne,—who, through her former secretary, Mr. Boyle, had sent assurances to foreign courts that no more changes would be made in her ministry. “And yet,” relates the Duchess,[174]“in less than two months after this, and even the very day after the Queen had expressed her desire to my Lord Godolphin himself that he would continue in her service, she dismissed him; and her letter of order to him to break his staff was sent by no worthier a messenger than a man in livery, to be left with his lordship’s porter,—a proceeding which in all its parts would remain very unaccountable, if the Queen had not, to those who expostulated with her, made this undoubtedly true declaration, that she was sorry for it, but could not help it. Unhappy necessity!”
The Duchess could not view these changes without making one more struggle. It was probably at the united desire of the party that she wrote a long, an able, and a characteristic letter to the Queen, of which the precise date (for, like many ladies, she did not always date her letters) is unknown. It was written, however, before the dismissal of Lord Sunderland,whilst yet the ministry remained entire, and whilst the “collection,” (as the Duchess termed those statesmen who were talked of to succeed her friends) were in expectation only of the places and honours which they attained.
This celebrated and extraordinary epistle, penned with the freedom of an equal, was intended by the Duchess, as she declared, to express to the Queen freely those truths which no one else appeared to speak to her Majesty. It contained the strongest remonstrances, not only on the injustice done to the Duke of Marlborough by the new system of policy pursued, but on the injury which public affairs would receive, from the loss of credit and of confidence in the government. With respect to the proposed dissolution of parliament, the Duchess says—“When once the parliament is dissolved, and the credit of the nation lost, it will be in nobody’s power to serve you, but the French will come upon you unawares. I heard a comparison of our credit, as it now stands, which I was pleased with. It was said to be like a green flourishing tree full of blossoms, which, upon the least change of ministry, would be nipped and blasted, as fruit is by a north-east wind. And I was told of a very unlikely man to understand the matter of parties, that is, Sir Godfrey Kneller, who, upon the newsof Lord Sunderland’s being out, was going to sell all he had in the stocks, but a friend advised him to wait till it was done. If such a man as this thinks of doing so, it is easy to imagine that the alarm will work very far. And I cannot for my soul conceive what your Majesty would do all this for.”[175]
These exhortations were of no avail; and perhaps added fresh inducements to the strong determination of the exasperated Queen; they certainly served to put the new favourites on their guard. But the Duchess wrote no letters to her Majesty without submitting them to the perusal of Godolphin,—the Duke of Marlborough being unfortunately abroad at this critical period.
The Duchess, in the meantime, resided chiefly at Windsor; the works were, nevertheless, still going on actively at Blenheim; and the Duke, in his letters of this period, earnestly entreats her to hasten the completion of the great court leading to the offices, and of the north side of the house, that he and the Duchess might have one side of the house “quiet;” “for, one way or other,” adds the wearied and broken-spirited Marlborough, “I hope to be there next summer.”[176]
Early in June, however, the Duchess, it appears,was prevailed upon to come to London, not entirely with the Duke’s approbation, for he was fearful that her coming to town, and not waiting upon the Queen, might have an awkward appearance. He commended her letter to the Queen, yet, in a subsequent despatch, begged her to write no more, since the behaviour of her Majesty did not warrant nor encourage other addresses.
The summer passed in anxious surmises on the part of the Duchess, whose sanguine spirit was sometimes buoyed with hope, though checked by the experienced Marlborough’s more rational fears of utter ruin to their cause. At length, in the beginning of August, the dismissal of Godolphin destroyed every prospect of recovering the favour that had been so long actually withdrawn. Even Marlborough was not, it appears, prepared for this last blow, although sufficiently expecting mortifications.[177]The event was unexpected even by Godolphin, to whom the Queen had, only the day previously, as has been already stated, expressed her wish that he should continue in office.
Mr. Harley was made one of the first of the seven lords commissioners of the Treasury;[178]and, in September, Lord Somers was dismissed, and the Earl of Rochester appointed president of the council in his place. Various other changes were made, which sufficiently proved to the country that henceforward a total change of measures would be adopted; and from this time the glory of Anne’s reign may be said to have departed.
Whilst these occurrences were passing in London, Sacheverell was parading the country after the manner of a royal progress, and great violences were committed by the mob who followed him. Yet government took no notice whatsoever of these outrageous and scandalous proceedings, so derogatory to the cause of religion, which was made a pretext for these insults to her sacred name.
The Duchess, meantime, received the condolences and counsels of her two friends, Mr. Maynwaring and Dr. Hare, afterwards Bishop of Chichester. She also still assembled about her a little party of friends, and received without displeasure the compliments of a certain nobleman, Lord Lindsey, whom her friends called “her lover,” and on whose devotion many jests were passed by her familiar associates. The joke was too freely used to infer any foundation for it, even in the most scandalous chronicles of thatscandalous day; yet was the Duchess still beautiful; still did she surpass the four most noted toasts of the times, her lovely daughters; still, and even to a late age, did she retain the freshness and vigour of youth—hair unchanged, complexion, spirits, activity, and a sparkling wit, to which the utmost candour gave an indescribable charm.[179]