CHAPTER XV.
State of the Duchess of Marlborough with respect to her family—Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough—Lord Godolphin—Pelham Holles Duke of Newcastle—The Spencer family—Charles Duke of Marlborough—His extravagance—John Spencer’s anecdotes of the Miss Trevors—Letter to Mr. Scrope—Lawsuit.
It was not the happy lot of the Duchess of Marlborough to assemble around her, in the decline of life, children and grandchildren, affectionately attached to her, who would seek to soothe her mortifications, and to repair the losses which she had sustained in the early death of their brother and sisters, and in the still severer calamity with which she had since been visited. A woman who is not beloved by her own children can have very little claim to the affection of others. The fault must originate in herself, however odious the consequences appear in those, who, if they could not bestow upon her the filial love whichher temper had blighted, ought never to have omitted that filial duty which no differences ought to destroy.
Henrietta Countess of Godolphin, who now, by an act of parliament passed in 1706, succeeded to the title as Duchess of Marlborough, was long at variance with her mother, and, according to some accounts, was never reconciled.[336]She was beautiful, it is said, but in her disposition her parents appear to have found but little comfort. The Duchess survived this daughter, who died in 1733. Her son, Francis Earl of Godolphin, appears, from the letters lately published, to have been an especial favourite of his grandmother. She complains, indeed, of “his not being so warm in some things as he should be,” (possibly in her quarrels,) but commends his truth and goodness, and declares she never forgot anything that his lordship said to her. By Dr. Hare, also, Lord Godolphin is described as one of the most reasonable and dispassionate creatures in the world. But this amiable character, unhappily for the mother and grandmother, whose asperities he might have softened, was, like most of the promising members of this ill-fated family, removed at an early age: he died in 1731, two years beforehis mother, Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough.
One daughter of the Godolphin branch of the Marlborough family remained. This was Harriott, married, as we have seen, in 1717, to the extolled and favourite minister, Pelham Holles, Duke of Newcastle, one of the most liberal statesmen of those venal days. To his grace the Duchess had, as we have already seen, addressed her complaints of the Duke of St. Albans, and his siege in Windsor Park; and she could not have bespoken the interest of any one more able to promote her wishes. The Duke had been a steady promoter of the Hanoverian interests. Consistency in those days was uncommon, and he was rewarded with honours and places innumerable; yet, far from enriching himself by his public services, or by no services at all, according to the mode then in fashion, the Duke retired from his posts, according to Lord Chesterfield, at least four hundred thousand pounds poorer than when he began life; at any rate, with an income greatly reduced.[337]
The character of this amiable, and, in some respects, high-minded nobleman, which gained, it may be presumed, upon her grace’s affections, aftershe had with much pains and anxiety achieved that connexion which has been alluded to,—has been ably, but perhaps unfairly, drawn by his relation and contemporary, Lord Chesterfield. Satire was not only the natural propensity of Lord Chesterfield’s mind, but the delight and practice of the day. The pungent remarks of Horace Walpole, as well as those of Chesterfield, must be taken with reservation. Neither friend nor foe was to be spared, when a sentence could be better turned, or a witticism improved, by a little delicate chastisement, all done in perfect good humour, and with unspeakable good-breeding, by these not dissimilar characters.
Lord Chesterfield depicts in the Duke of Newcastle an obsequious, industrious, and timorous man, whom the public put below his level, in not allowing him even mediocre talents, which Chesterfield graciously assigns to him; a minister who delighted in the insignia of office; in the hurry, and in the importance which that hurry gives, of business; as one jealous of power, and eager for display. “His levées,” says the Earl, “were his pleasure and his triumph;” and, after keeping people waiting for hours, when he came into his levée-room, “he accosted, hugged, embraced, and promised everybody with a seeming cordiality, but at the same time with an illiberaland degrading familiarity.”[338]The world, however, forgot these weaknesses, in the generosity, the romantic sense of honour, and the private virtues of this respectable nobleman.
Anne Countess of Sunderland, the second daughter of the Duchess, left four sons and one daughter, with a paternal estate greatly impoverished. It was, amongst all his faults, a redeeming point in Lord Sunderland’s character, that his patriotism aimed not at gain. We have already referred to a fact not to be forgotten: when, on being dismissed from the ministry in Queen’s Anne’s reign, he was offered a pension, he nobly refused it, with the reply, that “since he was no longer allowed to serve his country, he was resolved not to pillage it.”[339]His children were, however, amply provided for by the will of their grandfather. The eldest son, Robert Earl of Sunderland, the object of his mother’s peculiar solicitude on her deathbed, perhaps from being more able to comprehend the characters of both of these distinguished parents before he lost them, displayed symptoms of the same aspiring mind that his father possessed. The aversion which George the Second had imbibed towards his father, prevented the spirited youthfrom obtaining any employment. At last, in despair, and wishing to bring himself before the notice of men in power, the Earl entreated Sir Robert Walpole to give him an ensigncy in the guards. The minister was astonished at this humble request from the grandson of Marlborough, and inquired the reason. “It is because,” answered the young man, “I wish to ascertain whether it is determined that I shall never have anything.”[340]He died early in 1729,[341]and the Duchess appears, from a letter addressed to Lady Mary Wortley Montague, to have very deeply lamented the loss of this scion of the only branch she could “ever receive any comfort from in her own family.” On this occasion the poor Duchess remarks, “that she believes, having gone through so many misfortunes with unimpaired health, nothing now but distempers and physicians could kill her.”[342]She is said to have, indeed, loved Lord Sunderland above every other tie spared to her by death.
Two sons and a daughter now remained of this beloved stock. Charles, who succeeded his brother Robert, and became afterwards Duke of Marlborough, was never, according to Horace Walpole, a favourite of his grandmother, althoughhe possessed many good qualities. He was not, however, endowed with the family attribute of economy; neither could he brook the control of one, who expected, probably, far more obedience from her grandchildren than young persons are generally disposed to yield from any motive but affection. Unhappily, the Duke’s sister, Lady Anne Bateman, whom the Duchess had, in compliance with her mother’s wishes, brought up, was but ill disposed to soothe those differences which often arose between her grandmother and the young Duke. She introduced her brother, unhappily for his morals, to Henry Fox, first Lord Holland, one of those unprincipled, but agreeable men, whose conversation soon banishes all thirst for honour, and sense of shame. By Fox, a Jacobite at heart, but an interested partisan of Sir Robert Walpole, the young Duke was won over to the court party; upon which occasion was uttered the Duchess’s sarcasm, “that is the Fox that has won over my goose;” a remark which, like every thing that she said, was industriously circulated. Fox considered public virtue in the light of a pretext in some, as an infatuation in others: self-interest was, in him, the all-prevailing principle;[343]Sir Robert Walpole being, in that respect, his model.
Lady Anne Bateman, intriguing and high-spirited, exercised over her brother an ascendency which was shared by the “Fox.” Influenced by dislike to her grandmother, she introduced the Duke into the family of Lord Trevor, one of whose daughters he married. The Duchess had a peculiar antipathy to Lord Trevor, who had been an enemy of her husband, and with her usual violence she banished the Duke from Windsor Lodge, and then, in derision of the new Duchess, who had, she alleged, stripped the house and garden, she set up eight figures, to personate the eight Misses Trevor, cousins of the young Duchess, representing them, in a puppet-show, as tearing up the shrubs, whilst the Duchess was portrayed carrying away a hen-coop under her arm. This anecdote originates with Horace Walpole, and, from its source, it must be regarded with caution: there are other exhibitions of passion in this extraordinary woman, which rest upon better authority.
The Duchess never forgave Lady Anne Bateman; and whilst we acknowledge the wickedness of that vindictive spirit, it must be owned that the Duchess had much provocation from this grandchild. In addition to the ingratitude of Lady Anne, she had the vexation, when Lord Charlessucceeded to the Marlborough estates, to see him and his younger brother, Lord John, squander away their patrimonial property, and vie with each other in every wild and mad frolic. At length their complicated quarrels ended in what was professedly an amicable lawsuit between the heir and his grandmother, for the settlement of some disputed portion of the property. To the amusement of the world, and certainlynotto the annoyance of those of her relatives who rejoiced in exposing her eccentricities, the Duchess, who was capable of any act of effrontery, appeared in court to plead her own cause. The diamond-hilted sword, given by the Emperor Charles to the great Marlborough, was claimed by Lord Sunderland. “What!” exclaimed the Duchess, indignantly, “shall I sufferthatsword, whichmylord would have carried to the gates of Paris, to be sent to a pawnbroker’s, to have the diamonds picked out one by one?”[344]Harsh and revolting as this exhibition of passion was, her prognostic was somewhat verified in the career of Charles Duke of Marlborough. His life presents a history of embarrassments, which, as the Duchess truly asserted, nothing but prudence on his own part could have prevented. To her correspondent, Mr. Scrope, for whom she appears tohave imbibed a sincere regard, she unfolds all her troubles respecting her grandson in the subjoined paragraph. The tenor of the letter from which this passage is taken, places the Duchess’s character, as a grandmother, in a very different light from that in which the popular writers of her day have chosen to place it. The world, judging, as it often does, most erroneously when it takes up family quarrels, had condemned the Duchess as hard-hearted and relentless. The following simple statement of facts is calculated to mitigate that sentence.[345]
“When I saw you (Mr. Scrope) last, you said something concerning the Duke of Marlborough, which occasions you this trouble, for you seemed 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.
“When he quitted all his employments, he wrote me a very good letter, saying that he had heard I liked he had done it; there are expressionsin this letter full as strong and obliging to me as those in this, dated from Althorpe, October 26th, 1733. I answered this civilly, saying, that as his behaviour to me had been so extraordinary 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 this he treated with a Jew to take up a great sum of money. He wanted my assistance to help in the security, for Lamb has secured all in his power, and would not lessen his own securities on any account. To this letter I gave him a grandmother’s advice, telling him the vast sums he had taken up at 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 of death increased his revenue, for I could not join in anything that would injure myself, or the settlement of his grandfather. I should have told you this before, but in this last professing letter to me, he tellsme that he would rather starve than take up money that I did not approve of: notwithstanding which, in a very few days after my letter, I am assured that Lamb has found a way to help him to a great sum of money; and without saying one word to me, the Duke has mortgaged my jointure as soon as I die, which he certainly may do for his own life; and if he lives till his son is twenty-one, he may starve him into joining with him, and destroy his grandfather’s settlement upon the whole family; for when the settlement was made, there were so many before him, that the lawyers did not think of giving his son any allowance in his father’s lifetime; and I can think of but one way to prevent all this mischief, which I have a mind to do, and that is, when he is of a proper age, to settle out of my own estate such a sum to be paid yearly by my trustees which will hinder him from being forced by his father, upon condition that if he does join with him to sell any of the estate, that which I gave him shall return back to John Spencer, who I make my heir. Whether this will succeed or not, as I wish it, I cannot be sure, but it is doing all I can to secure what the late Duke of Marlborough so passionately desired. He has a great deal in him like his father, but I cannot say he has any guilt, because he really does not knowwhat 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.”
The Duke died in 1758, having, according to Horace Walpole, greatly impoverished his estate; so that his death, before his son came of age, was considered to be an advantage to the property, since the young man might have been induced to join his father in the last mournful resource, according to the same writer, “to sell and pay.”[346]
On the honourable John Spencer, commonly called by the writers of those days Jack Spencer, the affections of the Duchess were, after the death of his eldest brother, chiefly centered. Not all his extravagance, nor the low-lived pranks in which he figured; not even the prospect of seeing him squander away every shilling which he possessed, could alienate from him this fantastic and unjust partiality on the part of his grandmother.He died, after a profligate and disgraceful career, at the age of six or seven and thirty, “merely,” says Horace Walpole, “because he would not be abridged of those invaluable blessings of a British subject, namely, brandy, small-beer, and tobacco.”[347]Notwithstanding these propensities, the Duchess left him in her will a clear income of thirty thousand a year, to the enjoyment of which was annexed a condition, characteristic enough, that he should not accept any place or pension from any government whatsoever. Whilst she thus enriched her unworthy grandson, she disinherited Charles Duke of Marlborough of all the property which was vested in herself to bequeath.
Lady Diana Spencer, the youngest of the Sunderland family, was also a favourite of her grandmother. She appears to have been an object of solicitude to the Duchess, who, it may be remembered, expressed much satisfaction when the Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, called “her Dy” back to bid her hold her head up, which, added the Duchess, “was what I was always telling her.” She also quoted “her Dy,” with much satisfaction, in her letter to Dr. Hare, when she extenuated her behaviour to Sir Robert Walpole.
In 1731, the Duchess was much gratified by the marriage of “her Dy” with Lord John Russell, afterwards third Duke of Bedford. Writing from Blenheim to Lady Mary Wortley Montague, the Duchess, in speaking of this wedding, declares to her gifted correspondent, that it is very much to her satisfaction. “I propose to myself more satisfaction than I thought there had been in store for me.” These were the expressions of hope; but, alas! like almost every other object of the Duchess’s regard in her own family, Lady Diana Russell died early, surviving her marriage only four years. It is impossible to note these successive deprivations without feeling sincere compassion for the harassed and bereaved old Duchess, who beheld, one by one, her only comforts taken from her old age.
Lord John Russell, when Duke of Bedford, became Secretary of State, and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. The well-known strictures on his character by Junius, though not historically just, were not without foundation; but, whatever were his faults, he attained eminence as a statesman; and to see her favourite grace the high station in which this alliance would have placed her, would, doubtless, have gratified the heart, already too proud, of her aged but worldly grandmother.
“Her Torrismond,” as the Duchess termed John Spencer, indeed survived her, though not many years. His marrying suitably was an event which she had much at heart. “I believe you have heard me say,” writes her grace to Lady Mary Wortley, “that I desired to die when I had disposed well of her, (Lady Diana,) but I desire that you would not put me in mind of it, for I find I have a mind to live till I have married my Torrismond, which is a name I have given long to John Spencer.”[348]Unhappily, Torrismond was too frequently to be found in the watchhouse, in company with other young noblemen, to think of domesticating according to the Duchess’s desire.
Lady Anne Egerton, the only child of Lady Bridgewater, was also undutiful, according to the Duchess’s notions, and to be derided and insulted accordingly. She had been brought up by her grandmother, who, finding that she was neglected after the death of her mother, took charge of her when her other grandchildren were left to her care. Lady Anne married Wriothesley Duke of Bedford, the elder brother of Lord John Russell, to whom his title descended.
In Lady Anne the grandmother’s spirit wasapparent. Their quarrels were continual and violent; and the Duchess, charmed, one must suppose, with her conceit of the eight puppet Misses Trevor, invented the same sort of vengeance in effigy for Lady Anne. She had procured her granddaughter’s picture, of which she blackened the face over, and writing on the frame in large letters, “She is much blacker within,” placed it in her own sitting-room, for the edification and amusement of all visiters.[349]
The Duchess of Montague, (Lady Mary Churchill, the youngest of her grace’s daughters,) like her eldest sister Henrietta, lived in constant altercation with her mother, whom she survived; the only one of her children whom the Duchess did not follow to the grave. The character of the Duke of Montague, and the honours which he received, have been before mentioned. The Duchess mingled greatly in the world; her concerts and assemblies are mentioned frequently in the letters of Lady Mary Wortley. Her daughter Isabella, Duchess of Manchester, by her sweetness of temper and superior qualities, fastened herself upon the affections of that heart where so few could find a place.
Such are some of the details which relate to the domestic troubles of the aged Duchess. Her frequent absence from her children when they were young; the absorbing nature of political pursuits, for which she sacrificed the blessings of affection, and the enjoyment of a peaceful home; the consequent necessity of consigning her children wholly to instructors and servants; perhaps, too, the manners of the times, which conduced to banish love between parent and child by a harsh, unnatural substitution of fear as the principle of conduct;[350]all contributed to alienate those young minds from her, whilst yet the angry passions which maturity draws forth were unknown. Consistency, impartiality, and a freedom from selfishness, are the qualities essential to win back the filial affection of which nature has implanted the germ in every bosom if, unhappily, it be destroyed. The Duchess was not only totally deficient in these attributes, but she possessed not that easy and kindly temper which can secure affection, even if it fail to command respect. In her family, notwithstanding all their advantages of person and fortune, she was singularly unfortunate;and she affords a striking instance of the incompatibility of a political career with the habits and feelings of domestic life. It cannot be, therefore, a matter of surprise that her latter days were clouded by depression; that she found herself neglected, and that she hovered between a state of irritated pride, and that condition of low spirits in which we fancy ourselves of no importance to the world, and as well out of it as cumbering the ground. Often, describing herself as generally very “ill and very infirm,” she declares that life has ceased to have any charms for her; that she only wishes “to make the passage out of it as easily as possible.” To her correspondent, Mr. Scrope, from whom she declares she received more civility than she had met with for years, the Duchess partially discloses her feelings. He seems kindly, and we hope with no interested motive, to have entered into the feelings of a morose old woman, who had placed all her felicity in a consciousness of importance, and who found herself “insignificant.”[351]A few short years previously, and who would have anticipated such a confession? Yet the mortifications of an unhonoured old age appear, if we may trust Mr. Scrope’s charitable version of the case, to have improved the chastened character on whose tenderest pointsthey bore. In reply to one of her low-spirited letters, he thus addresses her: “I hope your grace will excuse the freedom with which I write, and that you will pardon my observing, by the latter part of your letter, that the great Duchess of Marlborough is not always exempted from the vapours. How your grace could think yourself insignificant, I cannot imagine. You can despise your enemies, (if any such you have;) you can laugh at fools who have authority only in their own imaginations; and your grace hath not only the power, but a pleasure in doing good to every one who is honoured with your friendship or compassion. Who can be more insignificant?” And he concludes this well-meant expostulation with professions of respect and regard.