CHAPTER VI.
Vexations and disappointments which harassed the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough—Vacillations of Anne—Her appointment of Tory bishops.
The ensuing five or six years of the life of the Duchess of Marlborough present little else than annals of party rivalries and of court dissensions. Those who once envied her had now their revenge. To thirst still for power, and to be bowed down ever and anon by a secret but all-pervading influence; to witness one day the altered countenance of her royal mistress, and to experience, the next, relentings of her sovereign’s weak mind; to suffer the sneers of her adversaries, and to encounter the still more grating pity of her friends; to be blamed by all parties, and even reviled by almost all the Whig leaders, save the devoted and moderate Marlborough, or thefaithful Godolphin,—these were the trials of the Duchess’s middle age.
That her temper was soured by these vicissitudes of hope and fear, and by the excitement of all those angry passions which disappointment kindles, cannot be doubted. From the great age which she attained, and from the clearness of her intellect until the close of her existence, there is no reason to suppose that her health, or even her spirits, were eventually impaired by the everlasting contentions of which she was the centre.
For a while, after her explanatory letter to the Queen, and her Majesty’s reply, “the great breach,” as the Duchess calls it, was not made public.[123]It was some time before Marlborough and Godolphin could be convinced of the secret influence which Harley exercised, or that the former, especially, could be induced to take the matter seriously to heart. The Duchess in vain importuned him to revenge her wrongs, and harassed him until he was heart-sick with the details of all that her enemies performed and projected. “You may be sure,” writes the Duke to her from Helchin, on Sept. 19, 1707, “I shall never mention Mrs. Masham, either in letter or discourse. I am so weary of all this sort of management, that I think it is the greatest folly in theworld to think any struggling can do good when both sides have a mind to be angry.”[124]
Yet, in spite of this simple philosophy, the poor Duke was constrained to acknowledge himself “not the same man,” after vexatious and embarrassing letters had reached him from England. It was not, however, long before the Queen’s dispositions were completely manifest. It was said that Prince George was brought into the scheme to co-operate with Harley against the Whigs, and that his mind was worked on by representations that he had not his due share in the government, and that he was excluded from it by the great power which the Duke of Marlborough and the Lord Treasurer exercised. The Queen, it was alleged by the new favourites, was a mere cipher in the Duchess’s hands, whilst the Duke controlled her affairs; and it was moreover declared to her that there was not now a single Jacobite in the kingdom;[125]an assertion made to dissipate her fears of the high church ascendency—with what foundation, the succeeding years fully evinced.
There were now three bishopricks vacant; and the Queen quickly marked the course which she meant to pursue, by appointing Dr. Blackhall to the see of Exeter, and Dr. William James tothat of Chester. These divines were, indeed, men of excellent character, and so far the Queen was able to justify herself to her ministry that she would have none but such men appointed to bishoprics. But they were likewise strong Tories, who had submitted to the Revolution, yet condemned it, and had objected to all the measures by which that great event had been followed. To qualify this proceeding, the Queen made other translations more acceptable to the Whigs; and before the meeting of parliament, in a conference of the leading members of that party, they were assured that her heart was wholly with them; yet Harley’s industrious endeavours to convince the Tories that such was not the case, and that the Queen was weary of their adversaries, and knew her friends, were calculated to counteract that impression.
Marlborough lost no time, when news of these nominations reached him from England, of expostulating with the Queen upon her choice of the two bishops. A letter, addressed by him to Lord Godolphin, being shown to the Queen, drew from her Majesty a vehement defence of Harley, with an explicit denial, at the same time, of her having been influenced by him in her late conduct.[126]“Mr. Harley,” she assured her great general, “knew nothing of her Tory appointments,until it was the talk of the town.” She disclaimed my Lady Marlborough’s imputation, as she deemed it, that she had an entire confidence in Harley; and wondered “how Lady Marlborough could say such a thing, when she had been so often assured from her that she relied on none but Mr. Freeman and Mr. Montgomery.”
The Duke, after an earnest expostulation in reply to this letter, suspended his remonstrances, calmly awaiting the current of events by which we are carried along in life, often independent of our free wills. He remained abroad all the summer, endeavouring to draw his affairs in Holland to a close, and solacing his wearied and vexed spirit with the hopes of one day enjoying in tranquillity the shades of Woodstock. Much of his time and thoughts was devoted to the completion and decoration of that magnificent palace, destined for two as gifted beings and stately inhabitants as ever trod its banquet-hall. In the midst of war, and, what harassed him far more, of politics, he turned with almost youthful delight to the minutiæ of those preparations for his luxurious home, which had in his mind an association with a deep-felt sentiment.
“My glasses,” he writes from Meldert, “are come, and I have bespoke the hangings; for oneof my greatest pleasures is in doing all that in me lies, that we may as soon as possible enjoy that happy time of being quietly together, which I think of with pleasure, as often as I have my thoughts free to myself.”[127]
And when the Duchess, in her letters, responded to these sentiments, his pleasure was blended with affectionate gratitude.
“I am obliged to you for your kind expression concerning Woodstock; it is certainly a pleasure to me when I hear the work goes on, for it is there I must be happy with you. The greatest pleasure I have, when I am alone, is the thinking of this, and flattering myself that we may then live so as to anger neither God nor men, if the latter be reasonable; but if they are otherways, I shall not much care, ifyouare pleased, and that I do my duty to God; for ambition and business is what after this war shall be abandoned by me.”[128]
The Duke wrote habitually in this strain; but of late, the hollowness of those whose personal advancement constitutes the sole business of their lives, had been painfully manifested to him. Since the knowledge of the Duchess’s downfal had become general, her failings, and the defects of the whole “Marlburghian faction,” as it hasbeen called by a contemporary writer, constituted the subject of general conversation; “being,” says the caustic, but not dispassionate Cunningham, “bandied about the town by gossiping women, and by them greedily sucked in; whilst the inexperienced multitude, who, for the most part, look with envy on the grandeur and good fortune of their superiors, rejoiced at the Duchess of Marlborough’s disgrace, and began to carry themselves with great insolence, as if any one of themselves were to have succeeded her in the Queen’s favour.”[129]
The Duchess, meantime, retired to Windsor; and, according to the same authority, “lived in quiet, nor did she take any pains to appease the anger of the incensed Queen;” although repeatedly advised by her friend Mr. Mainwaryng, not to absent herself wholly from the court,—a line of conduct which he urged, not solely on her own account, but for the good of her friends. But the Duchess disregarded his admonitions; and by this indifference the artful Mrs. Masham gained ground, skilfully availing herself of her rival’s absence to ingratiate herself more and more in the Queen’s favour. Prince George, it appears, was unfavourable to the Masham faction. As a spectator, comparativelybut little concerned in all that passed, he probably dreaded the intrigues, the petty commotions, among the female hierarchy, which disturbed his conjugal repose. The Queen, at this time, fell into the inconvenient habit of holding nocturnal conferences with the Harley and Masham confederacy, and her health suffered in consequence. A humour in her eyes was the subject of public concern; and Prince George remarked in public, that it was no wonder she should suffer, but rather that she should not be otherwise indisposed, from late hours. This remark is said not to have fallen from him unawares. It was evident, in the sequel, that the Prince deemed the removal of Harley from the confidence of her Majesty indispensable.
The Duchess now aroused herself from her apathy; but it was too late. She employed spies about the Queen, and gained intelligence of all that happened. She worked upon the minds of Marlborough and Godolphin, and besought, if she did not command, their interference in the matter.
Serious thoughts of quitting her employments, and of resigning her offices in favour of her daughters, having received from the Queen a sortof vague promise that her employments should be made over to them, now occupied her mind. For some time, the advice of friends, and more especially of her confidential correspondent, Mr. Mainwaring, delayed the performance of her intention. Yet, before finally giving up the game, she was anxious to make one more effort against the adverse party.
Before affairs came to a crisis, the discovery of a treasonable correspondence between a man named Gregg, and the Queen’s enemies abroad, arrested the downfal of the Marlborough family, and delayed the elevation of Harley. Gregg was a clerk in the office of the Secretary of State, and much in his confidence; and there were many who hesitated not to consider the secretary as implicated in the delinquencies of his clerk. Yet it was by Harley that the affair was first brought to light.[130]More especially, Lord Sunderland charged Harley with being privy to the crime of Gregg; nor could the asseverations of the culprit, who was drawn in a sledge to the place of execution, and hanged, wholly silence the bitter accusations and unworthy suspicions of Sunderland.
The Queen, when urged to investigate the conduct of Harley, showed considerable reluctanceto act in the matter. She was “moved,” to use an old-fashioned expression, when Marlborough and Godolphin spoke to her on the subject.[131]When, irritated by her determined though meek opposition, they told her plainly that it was impossible for them to do her Majesty any service whilst Mr. Harley remained in the council, she was still firm; and to the expressed resolution of Godolphin to leave her, she seemed insensible. But when Marlborough proffered his resignation, her royal heart was touched, and she studied by arguments and compliments to change his determination; but both her Treasurer and her General quitted her presence in disgust.
Anne repaired on the same day to the council, where Harley opened some matters relating to foreign affairs. The whole board seemed to be infected with sullenness; and, upon the Duke of Somerset remarking that it was impossible to transact any business whilst the General and the Treasurer were away, a deeper gloom overspread the faces of those who were present. The Queen then perceived that she must yield—a conviction which she received with feminine wrath and perverseness. She sent the next day for Marlborough, and told him that Mr. Harley shouldin two days be dismissed; but she gave her concurrence to this desired measure with a deep resentment, which her tenacity of impressions rendered indelible.
It might now be expected that the Duchess’s restoration to favour would ensue; but those who looked for such a termination of the political broil knew nothing of human nature. Anne never forgave being compelled to part with Harley. Her ministers perceived that they had lost her confidence; and Harley, through the favour of Mrs. Masham, still enjoyed opportunities of “practising upon the passions and credulity of the Queen,” as Lady Marlborough expresses it.
Among those members of the ministry who went out of office in consequence of Harley’s dismissal, was the celebrated Henry St. John, who immortalised the name of Bolingbroke.[132]He at that time held the office of Secretary at War; but his rise to political influence had begun in the earliest years of the Queen’s reign.
Of a most powerful natural capacity, to which were added splendid attainments, the result of a careful education acting upon an ardent and grasping mind,—of great but misdirected ambition,—LordBolingbroke was one of those men by whom Fate dealt unkindly, in subjecting them to the temptations of a political career. There is, indeed, no reason to conclude that Bolingbroke, untempted by that ambition to which he sacrificed so much, would have adorned private life by purity and temperance,—which were not the fashionable virtues of the day. When even the high-minded and reflecting Somers could tarnish his great qualities by licentious habits, there can be little cause to wonder that one who, like Bolingbroke, lived in a whirlwind, could be profane without a blush, and grossly immoral without contrition. Born not only with strong passions, but more especially with the most perilous of all, the passion for notoriety, Bolingbroke had not the protecting influence of a religious faith to temper his extravagances, nor to chasten his erring spirit when the dark hour had passed away, and had left his mind free to admire and worship the beauty of virtue; and to draw the comparison between his own conduct, and that rule which should have been his guide. The cable by which he was connected with that anchor which alone can keep the frail bark firm, was cut away. The infidelity of Bolingbroke, and his endeavours to impress his opinions upon others, are too well known to require further comment.
It may be well, from his intimate connexion with the political affairs of the day, as well as from the regard which the Duke of Marlborough once entertained for him, to trace the progress of that extraordinary mind, and of that inconsistent yet lofty character, of which Bolingbroke, both in his works and in the history of his life, has left us ample records.
It may seem unfair to say, that his early scepticism and his youthful thirst for distinction may be attributed, in some measure, to his education among individuals of the Presbyterian persuasion. Not that we mean, by such an assertion, to cast the slightest reflection upon the pious and generally conscientious body of non-conformists. But Bolingbroke, like many other young persons whose friends are opposed on matters of controversy, was the object of persuasion—the innocent cause of polemical discussion—the victim of well-meant efforts which drew in contrary ways.
This gifted descendant of a long line of eminent and ennobled warriors and statesmen was born at Battersea, in Surrey, in the year 1672, at the house of his paternal grandfather, Sir Walter St. John. The civil commotions, in which his grandfather had taken a prominent part, were then, in those later days of Charles the Second, hushed, not quelled; and theeffects of political and polemical differences not only still existed, but were cherished as sacred recollections by the elder branches of the St. John family, of whom Lady St. John, the grandmother of Bolingbroke, was an influential member. This excellent and zealous lady, although a charitable benefactress to the orthodox institutions of her village, was a steady adherent to the Puritans, and an earnest promoter of their principles in the mind of her youthful grandson. Unluckily she adopted that course of instruction which has been found to be peculiarly unsuccessful in training the minds of youth to certain religious impressions. It is universally remarked how little we respect what we have been forced to commit to memory,—however valuable may be the subject, however attractive the form of what we are thus compelled to receive into our rebellious imaginations. The spiritual adviser of Lady St. John, and the instructor of Bolingbroke, was Daniel Burgess, one of those singular compounds of fanaticism, shrewdness, humour, and obstinacy, who often obtain so remarkable an influence over the strongest intellects, as well as the most devout hearts. This zealous man acted with the usual blindness to the inclinations of youth, and with the ignorance of human nature which such persons display. “I was obliged,” saysLord Bolingbroke, writing almost with loathing of his earlier days, “while yet a boy, to read over the Commentaries of Dr. Manton, whose pride it was to have made an hundred and nineteen sermons on the hundred and nineteenth Psalm.”
These spiritual exercises were, it is more than probable, counteracted, or at least discouraged, by his grandfather, who, after the Restoration, conformed to the national church, and received into his family, as chaplain, the learned Dr. Patrick, afterwards Bishop of Chichester and Ely, who remained many years in his family.
Henry, the object of these well-intended cares, claimed, on his mother’s side, an alliance with the ancient and noble family of Rich, Earl of Warwick; from which loyal house he probably received those predilections for the Tory party which a mother could so easily implant; an influence which no non-conformist divine could readily counteract. But whilst thus he grew up, culling from different sources contrary opinions, it is probable that from his Presbyterian tutor he acquired that ardour for singular distinction, which is the characteristic mark of sectarianism of every description, and by which, indeed, in conjunction often with higher motives, its ramifications are extended and maintained.
It was not until after Bolingbroke had passed the period of early youth, that this love of display, not to dignify it with the name of ambition, took a higher aim than the desire of being the most lavish, the most fearless, the most eccentric, and the most profane profligate of his age. At Oxford, his powerful comprehension, his ready wit, the subtility of his reasoning, the extent of his memory, raised expectations of his career, which were soon dissipated by his mad and outrageous, rather than sensual course of pleasures. When he moved into the sphere of fashion to which his birth entitled him, it became his degrading boast that his mistress was the most expensive of her class; and that he could drink a greater quantity of wine, without intoxication, than any of his companions. Yet, in the midst of such associates as envied or extolled his supremacy, St. John never wholly lost that desire for better things, that love of knowledge, and value of intellectual excellence, which afterwards raised him from debasement, and which still ennoble his name, in spite of his unprincipled political career, and of the obliquity of his moral conduct.
It was not until the latter end of the reign of William, and after his first marriage, that HenrySt. John applied himself to politics. He was then twenty-eight years of age. Unhappily for him, he consulted what he deemed expediency (his guide through life) in the first respectable connexion that he formed. He married the daughter and co-heiress of Sir Henry Winchescomb, a descendant from the famous clothier, Jack of Newbury, who entertained Henry the Eighth and his suite. The union which St. John thought proper to form might have been considered prudent by his friends, but it proved adverse to all improvement in his domestic conduct. His wife, though commended for her personal and mental accomplishments, yet failed in fixing the gay, inconstant Bolingbroke. A separation ensued; and though much of the lady’s fortune, which amounted to forty thousand pounds, became the portion of her husband, it was subsequently, with the exception of some estates, given back to her family after his attainder.
So far his worldly interests were concerned; but it was Bolingbroke’s fate, in after life, to attach himself strongly to the wife of the Marquis de Villette, the niece of Madam de Maintenon, and to be truly, passionately, and long hopelessly attached. His jealousies, his uncertainties, the sickness of hope deferred, were a retribution tohis former indulgence of what are too lightly termed the pleasant vices; in which his vanity, perhaps his passions were concerned, but in which the heart participated not.
Bolingbroke entered parliament in 1700, as member for Wotton-Basset, on the Whig interest. His wife’s connexions, as well as his own, had considerable influence in the political world. But the natural and acquired attributes of the young politician were far more potent than family influence, which can place a man in the national assembly, as one may plant a tree, but cannot make it grow, nor enable it to stand the wintry blast.
It was, perhaps, not among the least of Bolingbroke’s advantages, that he was one of the handsomest men of his time. Notwithstanding the dissolute life which he had led up to the period of manhood’s prime, when he became a noted politician, St. John retained a sweetness of countenance which usually belongs to innocence alone, combined with a dignity, the outward token of a high quality of mind, and perhaps the hereditary mark of ancient blood. His manner was eminently fascinating; and the awe which his acknowledged abilities might have inspired, was dispelled by a vivacity which,strange as it may appear, has been almost invariably the accompaniment of the most profound thinkers, and of the most energetic actors on the stage of public life.
To these personal advantages, Bolingbroke, in the maturity of his intellect, added an astonishing penetration into the motives and dispositions of men. Perhaps he trusted too greatly to this faculty, for he was often deceived, where duller spirits might have perceived the truth. He possessed the art of acquiring an ascendency over all with whom he conversed. If he could not convince, he was contented to waive contention, and to gain his point by entertaining. His powers of eloquence, even in that age, when the art of rhetoric was sedulously cultivated, were supereminent. Perhaps the greatest merit of eloquence is perspicuity; and this Bolingbroke displayed in a very uncommon degree. A prodigious memory, the handmaid of oratory, did not ensnare him into the fault of pedantry, common to men so endowed. How admirably he has avoided this defect in his Letters on the Study of History, must be remembered with gratitude by those who have perhaps sat down to peruse the work with dread, but have arisen from it, not wearied, but delighted and informed.
His eloquence possessed the charm of a noble simplicity. Yet his language, although apparently only such as would be suggested to any person speaking familiarly on similar subjects, was selected with a skill the more refined that it could not be detected. Sometimes he would pause for a moment’s reflection, when in the midst of an harangue; but the pause was succeeded by a full, clear, impassioned burst of eloquence, to which all the stores of his memory, the depth of his logic, and the elegance of a mind never debased, whatever might be his immoralities, contributed, like pellucid streams flowing into the one mighty torrent.[133]
It was in the dawn of his political career that St. John gained the approbation, almost the affection, of Marlborough.[134]Until after the defection of Harley from the ministry, Marlborough and Bolingbroke were more than political allies. The great general admired the talents of the young debater, and loved his society; as men who have lived long enough to appreciate all the various sorts of excellence, love the promise of the young, and hail its progress with almost prophetic accuracy. Bolingbroke, on the other hand, whateverwere the differences of after life, whatever the wrongs sustained by Marlborough, whatever his own tergiversation, reverenced, almost affectionately, the hero of Ramillies,—a victory achieved whilst he himself was in office. His eloquent tribute to the great hero’s memory is well known.[135]
It has been supposed, and not without reason, that St. John was indebted both to the Duke of Marlborough and to Harley for his introduction to office, in 1704, as Secretary at War and of the Marine. That he considered himself chiefly bound in honour and gratitude to Harley, is evident from his resigning his post, upon the dismissal of that minister. A friendship of some years had, indeed, at the time of that event, subsisted between Harley and St. John. But it was a friendship such as worldly men could alone avow and endure; hollow, interested, and already verging into rivalry,—as the closest intimacies are found to be sometimes nearest to the deadliest hatred. Never was there an alliance, bearing the name of friendship, so ill assorted. Harley was a man of industry, research, method; a statesman of no extended views, yet an adept in the craft. His morals were, for his time, more than respectable, his integrity unimpeachable,although it was not of a description suited to the nicer notions of our modern days. It was his aim to conciliate both Whigs and Tories; to maintain the Protestant succession, yet to conciliate the adverse courts of St. Germains. To effect his ends, he scrupled not to employ any means which appeared to him expedient. If not actually deceptive, he was, at any rate, constantly treading on the brink of that moral precipice, falsehood: versed in all Parliamentary forms and records, he was at once an able leader of the House of Commons, as well as a consummate manager of courts.
Bolingbroke, on the other hand, with a less share of principle than Harley, displayed a decision and courage which bore the aspect of consistency and disinterestedness. His devotion to the Tories, which proved his ruin, caused him to disapprove the half measures of his friend and subsequent rival. Yet he was not wholly devoid of a deep, designing spirit; for Bolingbroke, though in this instance he misunderstood the general sentiments of the nation, yet was not deceived in the real, heartfelt secret wishes of his royal mistress, on which he relied.
At the period when the “great breach,” as the Duchess of Marlborough called it, took place, Bolingbroke was, however, the warm adherent ofHarley; and in compliance with their mutual bond, he quitted office, after three years’ enjoyment of its dignity and emoluments.[136]