CHAPTER XIII.
Funeral of the Duke of Marlborough—His bequests to the Duchess—Immediate proposals of marriage made for her in her widowhood—Character and letters of Lord Coningsby—Character of the Duke of Somerset—His Grace’s offer of marriage to the Duchess.—1722.
All that funereal honours could add of splendour to the great hero’s memory, was duly executed. His Majesty George the First, and the nation in general, how divided soever in their tributes to his name when living, were unanimous in paying such honours to it as the vulgar prize. The King himself offered to defray the expenses of the funeral, but the Duchess, with the Duke’s executors and relations, declined accepting this gracious proposal.
We spare the reader the entire enumeration of those revolting details which accompany the barbarous custom of a body lying in state; the bed of black velvet, as Collins describes it with trueheraldic pleasure, “properly adorned;” the coffin, with its water-gilt nails; the suit of armour placed upon that mournful symbol, decorated with all the honours of the great defunct; a general’s truncheon in the hand; the garter, the collar, the pendant George, and the now useless sword, in a rich scabbard fastened to the side. These, with the ducal coronet, the cap of a prince of the empire, the banner, the crest, were all duly examined and appreciated by the nobility and others who thronged to Marlborough-house, where this sad and absurd pageant was performed. Suites of rooms were likewise opened, and adorned with escutcheons, with ciphers and badges interspersed, all lighted by silver sconces and candlesticks, with wax tapers, prepared for the crowds who were obliged to wait, previous to penetrating into the room of death.
On the sixth of August, the solemn procession, one of the most imposing that the metropolis of England had ever witnessed, took place, Garter King-at-arms directing the whole ceremony. The coffin, with the suit of armour, as on the bed of state, lying on an open bier, was preceded by horse-guards, foot-guards, and artillery, all in military mourning, amongst whose still gorgeous array, detachments of forty riders, at intervals, inmourning cloaks, added to the solemnity of the scene, whilst a band of out-pensioners of Chelsea Hospital, seventy-three in number, corresponding to the age of the Duke, constituted an interesting portion of the attendants. Many of these poor men doubtless remembered the great general in the day of his fame.
The Duke of Montague, as chief mourner, followed the bier, in the coach belonging to the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough; whilst the Earls of Sunderland and Godolphin, as supporters to the chief mourner, succeeded in that of the present Duchess of Marlborough. Then came eight Dukes and five Earls, amongst the former of whom was the Duke of Somerset, who at no very remote period proposed to the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough to change her illustrious name to that of Somerset. The coaches of the King and of the Prince of Wales preceded a long line of carriages in the procession, which drove along Piccadilly, and through St. James’s, Pall Mall, and Charing Cross, to the west door of Westminster Abbey. The body was deposited in a vault at the foot of Henry the Seventh’s tomb. Amid the sound of anthems, and the solemnities of our beautiful church service, were the remains of Marlborough lowered to the dust.
The Bishop of Rochester, Dean of Westminster,in his cope, read, “Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God,” &c.; and the choir sang, “I heard a voice from heaven.” Then Garter King-at-arms advanced, and recalling the spectators to the vain honours of the world, enumerated the titles of the deceased, proclaiming, “Thus hath it pleased Almighty God to take out of this transitory world, into his mercy, the most high and noble prince, John Duke of Marlborough,” &c. The attendant officers broke their staves of office, and delivered them to Garter, who threw them into the grave. Thus the vain ceremonials, most exacted at the period when they can least avail to elevate and honour the poor fragile dust, were terminated.
The body was afterwards removed to the mausoleum at Blenheim, erected by Rysbach, under the superintendence of the Duchess.[298]
And now was Sarah Duchess of Marlborough left alone, for the only relative who truly loved her was in the tomb; her grandchildren were young, and in her surviving daughters she had little or no consolation.
What were her feelings on the final separation with the partner of so many years, we can but conjecture. It is said that there were certain traits of his conduct to her that she could not,long after the Duke’s death, recal without tears.[299]She had attended him sedulously, and even devotedly, during his long illness;[300]and that the Duke appreciated her devotedness, is obvious from a passage in one of the numerous codicils to his will.
The Duchess’s personal comforts, as far as they depended on her pecuniary interests, were carefully considered in the Duke’s disposal of his property. On the first arrangement of his affairs, he bequeathed to her the income of ten thousand a year, free from all taxes and charges, with the option of changing five thousand pounds a year which his grace received from the post office, for an annuity on his property, reflecting that the public grant ought to devolve on the person who should bear his title. But, some years after this bequest was made, the Duke, in the following terms, added another, to mark more forcibly his affection and gratitude to the Duchess.
“And whereas in and by my said herein-before recited will, I gave to my said wife and her assigns, during the term of her natural life, the sum of ten thousand pounds per annum, clear of taxes; and whereas my personal estate is since greatly increased, and my said wife has been verytender and careful of me, and had great trouble with me during my illness; and I intending, for the consideration aforesaid, and out of the tender affection, great respect, and gratitude which I have and bear to her, and for the better increase of her title and honour, to increase her said annuity five thousand pounds a year,” &c.[301]
The title and the honours of the dukedom of Marlborough descended upon his daughter Henrietta, Countess of Godolphin, with a reversionary entail upon the male issue of any of her sisters. The Countess’s son, Lord Rialton, was to receive, in consequence, a more ample allowance than his cousins, together with various heirlooms of great value. Amongst these, the service of gold plate presented to the Duke by the Elector of Hanover, and the diamond sword given to him by the Emperor Charles, are particularly enumerated.
To the Duchess of Marlborough were left the plate and jewels belonging to the Duke. She was permitted to dispose, by will, of the estate at Sandridge, which the Duke had purchased; but was requested to leave Marlborough-house, the site of which had been granted to her by the crown, to the successor in the title. She was also appointed one of the trustees to the Duke’swill, in conjunction with his three sons-in-law, and with several gentlemen.
The Duchess was likewise entrusted with a bequest of much importance, as matters then stood. This was the sum of fifty thousand pounds to be expended in equal instalments, in five years, for the purpose of completing the palace and other works at Blenheim, under the sole control of the Duchess. Wealthy, independent, and still agreeable in her person, the Duchess had not been many months a widow before endeavours were made to induce her to change that state, and to enter once more into matrimonial life. Those who thus sought to ensnare her, were, however, but little acquainted with the Duchess’s real sentiments.
The earliest, and not the least ardent suitor to her grace, was Thomas Earl of Coningsby, whose admiration of the Duchess appears to have commenced even before Marlborough was committed to the tomb. Lord Coningsby was a politician of a sort peculiarly acceptable to the Duchess; and, as was her habit with other friends, she had maintained an occasional correspondence with this active Whig peer, who had always expressed the most sincere devotion to her husband. This attachment appears to have been returned by Marlborough, who professed, in writing ofLord Coningsby, to place considerable reliance upon his judgment; whilst Coningsby, on occasion of the Duke’s leaving the kingdom in 1712, went so far as to say, that “he had now not a friend in the country.”
Such were the terms on which the subsequent suitor stood with the husband of his “dearest, dearest Lady Marlborough,” for so he repeatedly calls her in his letters.
Lord Coningsby, when he offered his hand and fortunes to the Duchess, did not degrade her by the addresses of a man unknown to distinction. Not only their old friendship, and a correspondence bordering all along upon the line which separates friendship from love,[302]but a high reputation for courage and abilities, might authorise his lordship not, at least, to expect a contumacious rejection. Early in life he had signalised himself at the battles of Aughrim and the Boyne; and, upon the latter occasion, had the honour to be near his Majesty King William the Third, when slightly wounded in the shoulder, and the good fortune to be the first to apply a handkerchief to his Majesty’s hurt.[303]
For his services on this occasion, Coningsby was elevated by William to the peerage of Ireland;and in 1715 the honour was extended by George the First, and he was created Earl of Coningsby, with his title in remainder to his eldest daughter Margaret.
Lord Coningsby having thus graced an ancient name by well-merited distinction, acquired the confidence and good-will of his political friends by his consistency as an advocate for the Protestant succession, and by the solidity of his judgment upon all parliamentary affairs. It appears to have been the desire of Godolphin and Marlborough, frequently, to consult one who had taken an active share in the settlement of the great national question at the time of the Revolution. “Upon all parliamentary affairs,” says Godolphin, writing to Marlborough in 1708, “I value very much Lord Coningsby’s judgment and experience.”
Lord Coningsby, at the time of Marlborough’s death, having been twice married, his eldest daughter by his second marriage[304]was created, in her father’s lifetime, Baroness and Viscountess Coningsby of Hampton Court, in the county of Hereford. Besides this favoured daughter, Lord Coningsby had four others, two of whom appear still to have been unmarried, and residing under his parental care, at the time of his lordship’s singular correspondence with the Duchess of Marlborough.
Scarcely four months after the death of the Duke,[305]we find, by a letter preserved among the Coxe Papers in the British Museum, that the Earl of Coningsby had begun his invasion upon the Duchess’s new state of independence, and had commenced his siege like a skilful pioneer. He begins by expressing the most poignant apprehensions on account of her grace’s health. The letter is dated London, Oct. 8, 1722.[306]
“When I had the honour to wait on your grace at Blenheim, it struck me to the heart to find you, the best, the worthiest, and the wisest of women, with regard to your health, and consequently your precious life, in the worst of ways.
“Servants are, at the best, very sorry trustees for anything so valuable; and that which terrified me, and which has ever since lain dreadfully heavy on my thoughts, was the coolness I imagine I observed in yours, when you lay, to my apprehension, in that dangerous condition which it was my unhappiness to see you in.
“Think, madam, what will become of those two dear children which you, with all the reasons in the world, love best, should they be (which God in heaven forbid) so unfortunate as to lose you.
“I can preach most feelingly on the subject, having been taught, from the ingratitude of theworld, the want of true friendship in it; and, from the most unnatural falsehood of nearest relatives, how uneasy it is, upon a bed of sickness, to think of leaving helpless and beloved children to merciless and mercenary (and it is ten million to one but they prove both) trustees and guardians; and had I not trusted in God, in my late dangerous indisposition, that he would not bereave my two dearest innocents of me their affectionate father, such thoughts had killed me. But God has been merciful to me, and so I from my soul pray he may be in preserving you to them.
“I could give many more reasons for your grace’s being in this place at this time; but these will prove sufficient to one so discerning,” &c.
Lord Coningsby’s children appear, indeed, to have been the objects of his tender solicitude; and it seems to have been his aim to have interested the heart of the Duchess in behalf of these little innocents, as he calls them; to whose newly acquired rank, doubtless, some portion of the courted lady’s wealth would have been an agreeable addition. It must have been, indeed, no easy task to address in terms of passion the Duchess, whose shrewd mind would instantly dispel the colouring which was so coarsely dashed over the real purpose of the valiant lord. The Duchess, be it remembered, was now in her sixty-secondyear, at which age women may be venerable, but never attractive. It would be well if our sex would learn discrimination, and remember the difference.
In November, the Earl gained courage to write a still more explicit letter to his beloved friend; and his letter contains something like an intimation that the subject of a more intimate union than that of friendship had already been broached between himself and the Duchess. The reader may judge for himself, from the following extracts, since it is difficult and dangerous to take the interpretation of love-letters entirely into one’s own hands. The letter is so extremely characteristic and absurd, that since it has never before been published, we are disposed to give it almost ungarbled to the reader.
After premising that he found the innocent glee of his children his great and only solace, when returning tired, and more heartless than ever, on account of the dismal state of the country, from the House of Lords, his lordship observes—[307]
“Albemarle-street, Nov. 20, 1722.
“Albemarle-street, Nov. 20, 1722.
“Albemarle-street, Nov. 20, 1722.
“Albemarle-street, Nov. 20, 1722.
“And these little innocents have been my only comforters and counsellors, and, under God, my support, from the most dismal day I was sounfortunate to be deprived of the most delightful conversation of my dearest, dearest Lady Marlborough, to whom alone I could open the innermost 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 sometimes 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.
“How these pleasing expectations were frightfully lessened by the ill state of health I found you in at Blenheim, I need not tell you, because you could not but see the confusion the melancholy sight put me into. And it was no small addition to my concern to see (as I imagined at least) so much indifference in the preservation of a life so precious amongst those entrusted with it; and had I not been deluded to believe that I should soon have the honour to see your grace here, I had, before I left Woodstock, sent to you to know by what safe method I might communicate to you any matter necessary for you to beinformed of, relative to my dear country, or your still dearer self.
“But I was not only disappointed of these intentions by the long progress you have made, and during which time, by inquiring every day at your door, I learnt from your porter that he knew not how to send a letter to you till you returned to St. Albans, and where, the moment I knew you were arrived, I presumed to send you the letter to which you honoured me with an answer by the post, but likewise by your letter coming in that way; and now I am altogether at a loss to tell my dear Lady Marlborough whether the pleasure that dear letter brought me, or the terrors it gave me, had the ascendant in me, and of this doubt you, and you alone, must judge.
“First, then, the pleasure was infinite to hear that your health was restored to you.
“But then the terror was unutterable when you took so much pains to let me know how little you valued a life that I thought inestimable.
“Again, the pleasure was vastly great in reading those delightful words which so fully expressed sincere Lady Marlborough’s regard to me, and concern for me and my dearest children.
“But then the terror was insupportable upon me, when I found you were unalterably determined not to see this place this winter, but likewiseyour letter being sent by the post, and which was opened by the miscreants of the office, seemed to be a sort of dreadful indication to me that you designed to put an end to all future correspondence with me.
“And when I had the additional mortification of being assured that you had been in town, and at your own house, for a day and a night, and would not allow me or mine the least notice of it, which, with the dismal thoughts that it brought into my head and heart, I will for my own ease strive for ever, for ever to forget.
“Your commanding my dearest Peggy to show me the letter your most beloved writ to her will help me to this happiness, and makes me hope I shall receive an assurance, under your dearest hand, that you designed it for that purpose.
“Though I desire above all things in this world to see you for a moment, yet so much do I prize Lady Marlborough’s safety above my own satisfaction, that I would not have you in this distracted place, at this dismal juncture, for any consideration under heaven. I intend, by God’s permission, to leave it myself soon; but whither to go, or how to dispose of a life entirely devoted to you, I know not till I receive your orders and commands.
“But I live in hopes that the great and gloriousCreator of the world, who does and must direct all things, will direct you to make me the happiest man upon the face of the earth, and enable me to make my dearest, dearest Lady Marlborough, as she is the wisest and the best, the happiest of all women.
“I am, your grace knows I am, with the truest, the sincerest, and the most faithful heart,
“Your Grace’sMost dutiful and most obedientHumble Servant,Coningsby.
“Your Grace’sMost dutiful and most obedientHumble Servant,Coningsby.
“Your Grace’sMost dutiful and most obedientHumble Servant,Coningsby.
“Your Grace’s
Most dutiful and most obedient
Humble Servant,
Coningsby.
“There is no such cattle or sheep as your grace desires, to be had till July next.”
Such were the terms in which the devoted Lord, devoted certainly to some fascinating object personified in her form as its representative, addressed the venerable Duchess. Her reply, most unfortunately, is not preserved; and with this remarkable letter the correspondence, as far as we can glean, closes. Dr. Coxe, whilst with tantalising brevity he has described Lord Coningsby’s letters as “the rapturous effusions of a love-sick swain,” has not deemed it important, nor perhaps correct, to leave us any further details of these singular addresses, which so grave anhistorian, as he who has commemorated the fortunes of John Duke of Marlborough, has considered as impertinent in so serious a narrative.
Lord Coningsby did not long survive his disappointment. He died in 1729; and his daughter, Lady Coningsby, leaving no issue, the title, in 1761, became extinct.
The Duchess was, at the time of the Duke’s death, sixty-two years of age. Her health appears to have been still unbroken; her beauty far less impaired than that of many much younger women. Her income was more than ample, since she found means, even when maintaining a princely establishment, to accumulate sums, and to purchase lands, which she left to her grandchildren. Her wit, her experience, her consequence in society as the widow of Marlborough, all contributed to give her a proud distinction in that gay world to which she was devoted.
After the Duke’s decease she resided principally at Windsor Lodge, employing herself chiefly in the management of the affairs which had devolved upon her, and in the superintendence of those cares which she had bound herself to bestow upon her grandchildren. But there were those who thought that Sarah Duchess of Marlborough, her wealth, or her former influence, might add dignity evento those already exalted in their own estimation above the majority of their fellow creatures.[308]
Charles, sixth Duke of Somerset, at this time a widower, proposed, within a year or little more after the death of the Duke of Marlborough, to the Duchess to unite herself to him. He pleaded even a long and respectful passion, and addressed her grace with a humility which only the fashion of those times could have extracted from one who bore the appellation of the “proud Duke.”
This nobleman had long been acquainted with the widowed Duchess of Marlborough. In former days, before the Duchess of Somerset had supplanted the proud Sarah in the affections of Queen Anne, the Duchess of Marlborough appears to have occasionally employed her talents and address in soothing the offended pride of the Duke of Somerset, whom it was necessary for the Whig party to conciliate.[309]Lord Godolphin, however, could not be brought to enter into the Duke’s scheme “of being a great man at court.”[310]For the “proud Duke” did no injustice to the qualityof his intellect by the absurd state, and wearisome self-importance which he affected, even to the annihilation of natural feelings. He was a man of no talent, but of unbounded pretensions. Mr. Maynwaring justly observes, in writing to the Duchess, speaking of the Duke’s desire to exalt his importance as a party-man, “For a man that has no talents to do any one thing in the world, to think that he is to do everything, and to have all preferments pass through his hands, is something so much out of the way, that it is hard to find a name for it.”
The Duchess of Marlborough had, in former days, thoroughly understood, and as thoroughly despised, the shallowness of his grace of Somerset’s understanding, and the unbounded arrogance of his pretensions. The Duke was one of those beings, of whom a simple delineation in works of fiction would be called exaggeration. Holding his exalted station by a disputed right,[311]he took precedence in his degree, in consequence of the first Duke of the nation being a Catholic. This pre-eminence, hazardous to one of limited capacity, was maintained by the Duke almost in a regal style. He intimated his commands to his servants by signs, not vouchsafing to speak tothem. When he travelled, the roads were cleared of all obstruction, and of idle bystanders. His children never sat down in his presence; it was even his custom, when he slept in the afternoon, to insist upon one of his daughters standing on each side of him during his slumber. On one occasion, Lady Charlotte Seymour, being tired, ventured to sit down, and he left her, in consequence, twenty thousand pounds less than her sister. He gave precedence to no one but the Duke of Norfolk.
Notwithstanding these absurdities, the Duke possessed some fine qualities. His pride was accompanied by a sense of honour, and his conversation graced by a nobleness of sentiment, which, in spite of a hesitation in his speech, must have well become a man who aimed at so much. He was a firm and generous friend; patronised the fine arts, and, what was perhaps of some importance to a widower disposed to marry again, possessed a fine exterior. At the time when he made proposals to the Duchess of Marlborough, he had, however, passed his prime, and was sixty-five years of age. Already had he linked himself to one of the noblest families in the land by his marriage with his first Duchess, the Lady Elizabeth Percy, the heiress of the Percys, and the widow successively of two husbands, Lord Ogle, and ThomasThynne, Esq., the last of whom was shot in his coach by Count Coningsmark, in hopes of carrying off the heiress of the Percys. This Duchess of Somerset had been on apparently friendly, but actually, scarcely on good terms with the Duchess of Marlborough, who perceived, through the veil of courtesy and submissive sweetness, the ambitious designs of the “great lady,” as Swift termed her. She fixed her eyes, as the Duchess discovered, upon the place of groom of the stole, an office which proved a temptation to many; “but covered the impertinence of her ambition and expectation within, with the outward guise of lowliness and good humour.”[312]Such was the Duchess of Marlborough’s opinion of the Duke’s first wife; and when she further discovered that the Duchess of Somerset was secretly undermining her at the very time that she pretended to lament the misunderstandings between her and the Queen, it is not to be supposed that the pretended good-will which was still maintained, was anything but a very hollow alliance.
To the Duke, however, the Duchess of Marlborough’s conduct had been friendly. She gave him timely notice, through the Duchess, of a resolution of a “certain great man,” probablyHarley, to dismiss the Duke from the post of master of the horse, for telling cabinet council secrets. Eventually the Duke was dissatisfied with the conduct of the Queen, and retired from court, but his Duchess remained, to gain unbounded ascendency over the weak Queen’s mind, and to continue her attendance on her, until her demise.
Notwithstanding the difference of their political career, the Duke of Somerset never forgot that his first Duchess was a Percy, and, as such, entitled to devotion and respect. Possibly he thought that he could alone pay her a suitable compliment in soliciting the Duchess of Marlborough to succeed her, and to console him for the loss of his first Duchess.[313]But she to whom he addressed himself answered his proposal in a manner worthy of her superior understanding, becoming her years, and admirable as addressed to the “proud Duke.” She declined a second marriage as unsuitable to her age; but added, that were she addressed by the emperor of the world, she would not permit him to succeed in that heart which had been devoted to John Duke of Marlborough.[314]
The Duke received this refusal with submission,and even consulted the Duchess respecting the choice of a wife. At her grace’s recommendation, he married the Lady Charlotte Finch, second daughter of Daniel Earl of Nottingham and Winchilsea.[315]The Duke, it is said, never forgot the distinction between a Percy and a Finch. “The Duchess,” says Granger, “once tapped him familiarly on the shoulder with her fan;” he turned round, and with an indignant countenance said, “My first Duchess was a Percy, and she never took such a liberty.” Whatever had been the early opinion entertained of the Duke by the Duchess of Marlborough, she became, in the latter part of her life, extremely friendly towards this absurd nobleman of the old school, and consulted him frequently on the management of her affairs.[316]
The Duchess, notwithstanding such temptations to her resolution, formed no second marriage. The Duke of Somerset survived her grace, and lived to attend the funeral of George the Second, as he had done that of Charles the Second, James the Second, Queen Mary and William the Third, of Anne, and of George the First. The long period of twenty-two years, during which the Duchess of Marlborough survived herhusband, if they proved less eventful than her youth and middle age, are not wholly devoid of interest, when considered in conjunction with the eminent characters who figured at the same era.